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natalievoncatte · 9 hours

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Kara knows, and that’s the problem.

She knows.

How does she know?

To put it simply, she’s Kryptonian. More specifically: a Kryptonian under a yellow sun, whose wavelengths of light bring forth her genetic heritage when she basks in its rays. If long lost Rao was once her father, Sol is her mother, raising her up to be all that she can be. A creation of a lost super-science, a power to rival gods, a force that made the Guardians tremble in their emerald tower.

Kara can see everything.

The world is alive with light. It cascades and bounces and caroms off of everything. More than that, Kara’s world is bathed in a thousand thousand hues the human eye will never know. When she looks at a person she can see the electrical conductivity of their skin and the heat bloom of their flesh and a myriad of other details, some of which other humans can pick up on a subconscious level, others that humans haven’t even discovered yet.

Kara can hear everything.

She can hear dog whistles and butterfly wings beating and the secret language of cats. She can hear the crackle of radio waves beating the atmosphere and the music of the spheres. She can memorize human heartbeats and pick out the slightest variation, the tiniest wobble that the owner of the heart never feels.

Kara can smell everything. She can sift between the scents of ingredients in her honey bun, detect poisons in a friend’s wine or flowers in a park half a state away. Sharks would be jealous of her. She can scent people but also their moods; fear smells horrific, sickly sweet and rotten. Joy smells hot and bold. When someone walks in the room, she can tell what they had for breakfast, smell of they’re sick, pick out the fragrances of their emotions.

Kara can feel everything. A touch can betray or affirm. To hear a heartbeat is one thing, to feel it another. Her fingertips can read the surface of another’s skin like braille and she can detect the slightest changes in temperature or perspiration, feel the thrum of contentment or fear in an embrace. Her touch is not dulled by her invulnerability. It as sensitive as her other senses.

Kara can remember everything. The day she stepped from her pod into the brilliant golden sunlight beneath a blue sky was the last time she would every forget; her now empowered brain can recall events in the finest detail, down to the soft timbre of another’s voice or the way her hair fell over her shoulder or the softness in her gaze. And so Kara’s memory is hers to be kept forever, never to lose the sight of her.

That is how Kara knows, and knowing that Lena Luthor loves her is a pain so terrible that she almost wishes she could be spared that pain. When Lena sees Kara, her heart leaps and her breath softens and she comes alive with light, bathed in an auric glow more beautiful than a red sunrise. Kara wishes that Lena could see herself as Kara sees her. Radiant, angelic, a little holy.

Lena loves Kara Danvers, the bumbling awkward nerdy shy girl from Vaguely Canada who brings her burgers and donuts and OTPs.

She doesn’t love Supergirl and Kara doesn’t think she could.

That’s how the torture happens. Kara’s infinite perception becomes a self-imposed exile. She sees and smells the way James lusts after Lena, right in front of her. Baffled, she listens to the calm in her heart when they kiss and once she wakes frantically in the night, reaching about to sift through the city soundscape when she hears Lena’s voice cry out, then the sound of Lena’s heart racing and other sounds, and not for the first time, she pleads with a god she doesn’t know to make her human and free her from this curse.

She seeks feeling of her own. It’s pleasant enough but it lacks something undefinable, like a pleasant chocolate cake that becomes unbearable because she could have had something far sweeter and more filling instead. He tries in a fumbling way but it’s to please his own ego more than sate her desire. Then one day he is gone and in his absence all Kara can feel is a dull numbness, a ragged wound with all the nerves scraped out so that only a dull absence has been left behind, leaving her broken in a way that cannot be defined much less repaired.

Kara cannot help but snap her attention to the sound of Lena growing agitated, no matter how distant or minor. She hears harsh words and the heavy thud of a limo door closing and hears the sharp intake of breath as James realizes the mistake he’s made, and though he is her friend and he matters to him she feels a feral, possessive joy that borders on the cruel. It is a hard feeling, a red feeling, a sharp smelling mean feeling that tastes cold on her tongue, this resentment of the man for having a pale shadow of what she could have but wouldn’t.

Lena loves Kara Danvers and Kara Danvers loves her back, but she can never know because to know she must know all of her. Know the Other, the Super, the Alien.

Kara is two people and one of those people has been, well, a bitch.

Because Kara feels spending else. A green feeling, a sick feeling, the feeling of blades flensing flesh from bone while her veins turn to glass and her body burns to ash, the shocking pain of a little piece of home. A little piece that Lena made and didn’t tell her, and Kara makes the worst mistake.

She stops being Supergirl and is just Kara Danvers in a colorful suit, angrily refusing to ask Lena the question: I love you, how could you do this to me?

She does love her. She loves her laugh and her secret smiles and how soft she looks when she’s deep in thought. She loves the pain in her, the mirror of her own. She cherishes it as she wants hers to be cherished, held close by someone who knows what it’s like to watch your world explode or slip beneath still waters and be gone forever. She knows what it’s like to wonder what could have been and know the price you paid for what you have now.

She wants Lena so terribly that she’d almost choose the pain of Kryptonite instead of an eternity of this longing. She needs her, craves her, thirsts for her.

One night Kara realizes what she’s been doomed to. Another will succeed where James failed, and Kara will be spared none of it, and it will endure forever. She will carry memories of Lena in another’s arms into the sun dies.

No.

“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” Lena says.

Kara -Supergirl- says nothing at first.

“I have to fly you.”

Lena nods. She’s doing this for Kara, because Kara asked. When Supergirl extends a hand, Lena takes it and Kara gently lifts her from the ground into a bridal carry, and they fly.

The trip takes nearly an hour. Kara can’t fly too fast or too high. Lena accepts it without complaint.

They land far north of National City, where the warmer climate yields to deciduous rainforest. Kara brings them down on a bare hilltop, an island in a vast ocean of trees. Nearby on a folding table is a basket. It might be important later or it might not. She might have a life of joy or she might spend the rest of forever in a wasteland, waking each day to grief.

There’s only one way to find out. Part of her, the part that hopes, the part that makes her Supergirl, believes in this, in herself, in this moment. She has to, because the chain of events that led her here, flung across endless space to stand in starlight with the most beautiful woman in this world, it demands that it happen. This is fate. It has to be.

Supergirl stands beside Lena. She raises an arm and points.

“There. Second star on the left, and straight on till morning.”

Lena quirks an eyebrow and looks at her.

“You brought me out here for this?”

“Do you see that red light?” Kara asks. “It’s very faint. I don’t know if a human can see it or not.”

“I just see stars.”

“It’s Rao, my sun. I can see him. If I had a powerful enough telescope, I could see it. Krypton. The explosion won’t be visible to Earth for a thousand years.”

Lena looks up, her features bathed in moonlight- alive with a chaotic explosion of hues she’ll never see. She blazes in the night, her eyes a kaleidoscope from which Kara can never truly look away. She’s a rainbow.

Kara falters. Whatever she does tonight, this is it. This is forever.

“You said Kara would meet me here,” Lena says.

“Wait here, please.”

Kara turns quickly and walks into the dark, cape spreading behind her. Once she’s out of sight, she changes without restraining her speed, and walks back to Lena in a hoodie and leggings, hair in a loose ponytail and the back of her neck and hands in her pockets.

She walks back to Lena and stands beside her.

“Hello, Kara.”

“Hi, Lena.”

There is a tense silence between them. Kara devours the moment, consumes it so it will live forever, just in case this is the last time she sees Lena.

“We’re not far from the reservoir,” says Lena. “Why did you ask Supergirl to bring us here?”

Kara swallows hard. “I realized something really important near here.”

Lena turns to her. “What was that?”

“That there was someone who mattered to me a lot, and that I was willing to risk a lot to protect her. There was a moment where I thought I was going to have time make a choice, you or the chemicals. I didn’t have to but I would have. I would have picked you. I will always pick you. I can’t help it.”

Lena is not stunned. Her heart doesn’t miss a beat, but Kara can sense her apprehension, her fear, and something deeper than that.

“You’re Supergirl.”

Kara lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and her legs wobble. There it is. It’s done. She’s free.

“I should have told you sooner.”

“You should have. You should have told me when we fought about the Kryptonite. I thought you would, hoped you would. I wanted you to so desperately, wanted you to trust me.”

Kara’s heart sinks.

“Wait, you knew? How?”

Lena laughs softly.

“The way you touch me. When you pick me up and carry me somewhere, you have this way about you. When I’m in your arms I feel like I’m the most precious thing in the world.”

“You are,” Kara says.

“That and you told me you flew to my office on a bus.”

Kara makes a small, choked sound.

“Oh.”

Lena scuffs the heel of her boot against the ground.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared. I thought if I did, you’d see it as a confrontation and feel threatened. What about you?”

“I’m Kara. Supergirl is something I do, not what I am. When I’m with you I’m just me. I lose that with everyone when they find out. Kara isn’t my secret identity. Supergirl is. I’m just me. I just want to be me, I need to be me, and when I’m with you I am most myself. It’s like laying down all my burdens.”

“Same,” Lena said, softly. “You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like an extension of my brother.”

Kara sighed. “Should we talk about the Kryptonite?”

“No,” Lena says. “Fuck the Kryptonite. Why’d you bring me out here?”

“To tell you.”

“Great, you told me. What did you think would happen next?”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

Lena nods and seems to think about that for a moment. Her pulse has quickened and her jaw is tight.

“Let me ask you a different question. What did you want to happen?”

Kara swallowed hard. “What I wanted was… for us to make up. Be friends. Work it out. I don’t want to lose you.”

Lena turns and looks at her.

“Bullshit.”

Kara flinches.

“That’s bullshit, Kara, and we both know it. You’re a terrible liar. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the staff at CatCo know who you are. Don’t lie to me. Please. Give me the truth.”

Kara looks up briefly, past Lena. She sees that faint red glow and her heart swells in her chest.

“I love you. That’s the truth. I’ve been in love with you probably since our first lunch together and I want you so badly that I can’t breathe when I think about it. I know a dozen languages and half of them aren’t from Earth, and there aren’t enough words in all of them to tell you how kind and wonderful and beautiful you are. I love you so much that sometimes I think,” Kara fights the tightening of her throat, “I think I’m almost glad that I’m here and not back up there under that red glow. I don’t think I could choose a life without you.”

Lena lets out a long breath and Kara is bombarded with sensations. Lena’s pulse races and her shoulders relax and her skin blooms with an ethereal luminous riot of color.

“I’ll never lie to you again. I promise.”

Kara can taste everything.

Right now the only thing she can taste is Lena.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #identity reveal #love confession

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bradshawsbaby · 5 months

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I love you but that’s a terrible idea for the bradshaws

Here’s a little domesticity with the Bradshaws!

“I love you, but that’s a terrible idea,” you insisted, bouncing your one-year-old daughter on your hip as you gazed across the kitchen at your husband and your three-year-old son.

“A terrible idea or a wonderful idea?” Bradley countered, looking up from his spot at the kitchen table where he and Goose had been hard at work building some sort of monstrous imitation of a gingerbread house out of all of the leftover desserts and candies from Christmas and New Year while you had been giving Lydia a bath.

“A terrible idea,” you emphasized, cradling the back of your daughter’s head as she started to doze on your shoulder. “Besides the fact that the two of you have turned the kitchen upside down, now someone’s going to be on a sugar high for the rest of the night,” you explained, arching an eyebrow as you looked from your husband to your son.

“He hasn’t had that much sugar,” Bradley replied weakly, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to recall exactly how many pieces of candy Goose had consumed since they’d started this little project.

“Oh, really?” you asked skeptically, shooting a pointed look at the frosting coating your toddler’s chin.

Bradley winced. “I thought it would be a good way to get rid of all the leftovers,” he explained sheepishly. “I realize now it probably would have been smarter to wait until tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the crestfallen look on your husband’s face. He looked like a wounded puppy. Walking over to him, you dropped a kiss on his forehead and ran your fingers through his hair. “It’s okay, honey. We’ll clean it up tomorrow.”

“Mommy, look!” Goose exclaimed proudly, showing off his masterpiece with sticky fingers.

“It’s beautiful, honey. I love it!” you praised him, holding the back of Lydia’s head securely as you bent down to kiss your son’s forehead. You looked down at his sticky face and hands and smirked. “Daddy is going to have so much fun giving you another bath.”

Bradley sighed. “Yep. I deserve that.”

January OTP Prompts

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #mr. & mrs. bradshaw #the bradshaw family #bradshaw drabble #miles teller #january writing prompts

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

Text

Mind Games

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Darcy x F!R (if you squint)

Prompts

"Please...say something." (26)

Warnings: Gaslighting, Trauma, Jealousy, Fighting. (Happy ending tho)

18+ | Minors DNI | Alluded to SMUT

Natasha was pacing around the expanse of the common room, you'd just uttered the words that held the power necessary to break her. There was no denying Natasha and you were in love, but somehow it is all the woman ever did. After every hookup she'd reiterate that you and her were just helping one another manage your stress, but then she'd ask you in a whisper to stay, and you always did, because deep down this relationship meant more to both of you.

The team knew, and they were all actually rooting for you, Tony even called you his OTP. Natasha would roll her eyes, deny the claims, then fuck you so good that night you let it go. This went on for two years, the both of you were basically inseparable; until you were.

—————

This last month you'd mistakenly said it, those three words that she conveyed with a lingering kiss came out of your mouth like word vomit. Everything changed, she stopped answering your texts, switched out from being your mission partner, and even flirted with others on the team to make her point to you crystal clear that this whole shebang wasn't real.

Except it was real, that was the problem, the woman spent her whole life living in fables. Every night a new persona, a new mark to hit, nothing ever stayed the same for long with her. Change was ironically her only constant, so to suddenly have this beautiful, bubbly woman taking the space of the cobwebs in her heart was foreign. Not necessarily unwelcome, but for the time being it felt that way to her, and now her tactics to keep you at arms length worked, but fuck if she wasn't regretting it all now that you were willingly moving on.

Her eyes stung with the tears she'd been holding in since the night you walked out of her room, and she pushed you out of her life. She felt like she couldn't breathe, as if the walls were truly closing in on her, and trapping her in with her pain. As she'd watched you head off to get ready for your date, without even sparing her a glance, she knew she was losing you.

Fear still held her tightly in it's grasp, but you were more than worth the risk of venturing into the unknown, because truth be told she's already fallen, and she didn't take a parachute. Without you there to catch her, she'd likely crash and burn, as she honestly deserved. However, she wasn't one to give up easily; if this was truly her last chance she'd take it, and most importantly she wouldn't squander it.

"What are you waiting for?," Tony snapped at the still woman, and Natasha shook her head to bring herself back to the moment., "Go!," he instructed, then as if she were a mindless robot her legs moved her out of the room, and up many flights of stairs to get to you, arriving just in time as you exited your room in a stride.

The woman was already winded from the trek up, but once she saw you in that dress, you genuinely took her remaining breath away. She'd grown so used to seeing you in your mission suits, and lazy day sweats that she'd forgotten just how good you looked in a full on get up. Not that you were not pretty enough otherwise, because you were, but this specialty look really accentuated your natural beauty.

Natasha was so enamored by said beauty that she narrowly missed her window to stop you. The familiar dinging of the elevator pulled her from her stupor though, and with all the speed in the world she made it through the closing doors before you could safely descend in peace. The redhead cringed at your cold demeanor as she brought her eyes up to look into yours, but with the sudden drop of the machine she was aware she was on borrowed time., "Y/N..."

"Save it Natasha.," the bite in your tone was so out of character for you, it truly shattered her heart to know that she'd hurt you this badly., "Y/N, please..," she was desperate to explain herself, to tell you she was ready to love you how you truly deserved, but the valid anger was rolling right off you as you shouted., "No!"

"I fucking need you to listen to me, please!," Natasha yanked on the emergency button as she saw you staring in relief at the single digit numbers., "Natasha, what the actual fuck?!," she simply shrugged at your angered words, then she swiftly grabbed your outstretched hands, twisting you about until your arms were crossed over your body, and your back was slammed into the elevator wall., "Natasha..."

"Stop being so stubborn Y/N, and let me talk.," she shut your attempted warning down, and in a moment of calm before the storm you nod, far too curious to see where she's going with this elevator ambushing to not., "Thank you."

"I-.," she paused as she finally met your eyes, this is the closest she'd been to you in over a month, and that knowledge nearly causes her to crumble. The woodsy smell of your cologne, her favorite from your vast collection, hits her nostrils and tears brim in her eyes at all the associated memories that come with the scent., "Nat?," you were rightfully furious, but that didn't mean seeing her on the verge of tears didn't hurt you just the same., "What is it?"

"Please, don't go out with them...," her words are hardly even a whisper, but the closeness of her face to yours allows you audibility, and the settled anger brews with a renewed passion., "You can't be fucking serious right now Nat, you have no right to ask such a thing!," it hurt to see her flinch at your unfamiliar tone, but fuck if it didn't also feel good to air it all out.

"You're the one who ended this, actually no, you fucking iced me out like I was nothing to you, I was just a hole for you to fill until it got too fucking real for you.," your harsh words truly upset the redhead, because never in this entire time had she sought out to use you. Sure, she might've recently reacted adversely with all of her baseless flirting with others, but up until she got freaked out, she'd been only yours. She'd never even so much as looked at another person; how could she when you were always stood in the same room for her to gawk at?

Natasha watched with a blank stare as you suddenly made limited hand gestures before continuing on., "This was nothing, now move out of my way.," you attempted to shove her off, but she slammed you back into the cooled metal, causing you to involuntarily huff., "I said listen to me, not to speak out of turn.," you glared at her attempts at dominance, but you reluctantly gave into her as her hold tightened.

"This.," she dropped her hold on your hands to convey your message more clearly, her pointer finger pressing into your chest before her own., "Was far from nothing, and you know that!," she took in another shaky breath, hearing you say what you did really left her feeling broken. The anger you felt was valid, she even knew she deserved to be shamed, but that didn't stop the feelings of insecurity and pain from festering; holding onto her tattered heart without mercy.

"It was stupid, icing you out, but it happened. There's no undoing the past, no one knows that better than me Y/N, but fuck, hearing you talk about your date awoke something within me.," the truth in her gorgeous green eyes was far too overwhelming for you so you dropped her gaze, but she quickly remedied that by lifting your face back up so she could look into your eyes., "I already knew it was love when I couldn't fathom sleeping alone after having the pleasure of your warm body up against mine, and I can't go on another day pretending it's not all that I want or need, because I fucking need you Y/N."

The confession was all you'd ever wanted from her, the truth you'd always felt in her lingering touches, but were never likely going to hear. Finally hearing it though was bittersweet, to have needed some adverse cause to leave her lips made it hard to appreciate the sentiment. It left you at a loss for words, and Natasha even more desperate., "Please...say something."

"I-.," your lip began to tremble, the words you wanted to say hanging in the thick air as you lost all of your resolve. Crying for the first time really since that first night when you initially cried yourself to sleep; being angry was easier, but now, with her looking at you so tenderly, it was all you could do to breakdown before her., "I'm so sorry, I-I—fuck I can't believe I hurt you like this, please forgive me detka, please."

Natasha pulled your trembling body into her own, guiding your face into her neck, and she felt a bit better when you desperately wrapped your arms around her waist to pull her closer., "I'll do anything you need moya lyubov'.," she whispered, placing a shaky kiss to your temple, "I love you more than my access to words can explain, I need you more than Tony needs his Whiskey, or more than Steve needs an enema."

"Natasha, for the love of God.," you groaned at the mental image now flashing in your mind, but the lighthearted tone made her heart calm., "What? You always say he needs to pull the stick out of his pompous ass, I'm agreeing.," you giggled as she offered further explanation, then after a few short moments of that it was back to the tense silence, but she still felt relief as you hadn't shoved her away from you yet.

"Natasha?," she tensed at the use of her full name, but she pulled back slightly to face you, and the daunting symphony of her mistakes., "Yes detka?," you melted into her hands as they held your face so softly, even more so as she used the familiar Russian pet name for you., "What took you so damn long? Why couldn't you love me back then too? Why only now?"

The redhead sighed, but it didn't stop the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears., "I've never been good with consistency Y/N/N. All I've ever know was constant change, and how to hurt the people I was meant to love.," hearing her own words led to tears falling as she recalled Yelena, the first person who'd been broken by her selfishness, then she remembers her sisters forgiveness, and this all starts to feel a whole lot less intimidating for her.

"Please, do understand that just because I never said it before, that I've still loved you all along.," her rough thumb brushed away your steady stream of tears, while she continued telling you her truths., "I've needed you from the very beginning, it was an instantaneous feeling, I'd never experienced it before, and it scared me so much that it was now my truth."

"I've never needed anyone before, but when I lost you it was like everything around me was dulled.," her eyes matched her sentiment as you gazed into them, the light all but gone., "The warmth of the sun turned frigid with everyday I woke up without you by my side.," she shivered as if remembering the way it felt., "Coffee became bitter without your laughter filling the kitchen in the morning to sweeten it up as we ate our differing breakfast together.," you instantly smiled, remembering how she ate her boring toast and oatmeal with a black coffee, all while taunting you for using all the creamer in the place, essentially "tainting" the coffee, and your dental health as you usually coupled it with sugary cereals or confections.

"Nothing work's right without you Y/N, I'm bombing all my missions, I am not sleeping much or eating, I am unable to even think about anything else but how I hurt you.," she leaned her forehead to yours., "I'm in love with you, wholeheartedly so, and I will do whatever it takes to win you back Y/N. All I ask is that you don't see her tonight, cancel the date, and accompany me up to the rooftop instead."

Natasha pushed the emergency button back into the slot, falling into you briefly as the machine jolted, and in a moment of weakness both of your lips collided for a short embrace. Once the doors dinged the redhead pulled away from you, making quick steps to get to the exit., "Please consider it, I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but I'll be waiting up there until eight just in case Y/N.," and before you could even so much as think, let alone respond, she was gone, much like she'd been all month long.

The doors closed as your body didn't move to leave the elevator, instead you slid down the wall of it while tears fell down your cheeks., "Friday, take me back up to my room please.”

As soon as you entered your safe space you fell into the bed, screaming loudly as you thrashed. On the one hand, your heart only beat for that infuriating woman, but on the other hand you never know if it could beat for another if you had no choice but to move on. Except, you no longer found yourself forced to move on, all you’ve ever wanted was waiting on the rooftop, so you’re not sure why you couldn’t move.

The clock beside your bed read 7:45pm when you finally glanced on over at it, both of your offers for the night expired at 8pm, and so you got off the bed, fixed yourself up at the vanity, and once again entered the elevator, shakily telling Friday to take you to the desired floor.

When you made your way to the common room you saw Darcy looking a little hopeless, and it all faded away when she looked up at your face. A bright smile adorned her face now that you’d arrived, but she failed to see your sad gaze., “I’d thought we were going to miss the movie, but I think we’ll still make it if we leave now.,” her hand reached for yours, but when you were hesitant to grab hers she already knew., “Oh.”

“Darcy, I’m so sorry.,” she gently squeezed your hand while smiling at you., “Hey, don’t do that, I knew what I was up against when I asked you out, and I still tried because you’re worth it.,” she pulled you into her arms for a hug., “I’m just happy to know Romanoff finally figured that out, but don’t make it too easy for her either.,” she pulled away, chuckling along with you., “Wouldn’t dream of it.,” you two shared one more squeezing of your hands before she left out the door, and you made your way to the elevators to see about mending the past.

Natasha sat on the decorated floating bed with her head in her hands, the clock having already surpassed eight about fifteen minutes ago, and her body deflated with each minute that went. Pain began to gnaw at her chest once more, and the sobs she desperately tried to fight off came tumbling passed her trembling lips. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault but her own that you chose the likely safer bet of moving on, still she was cursing the gorgeous scientists name as her body shook so violently that the ding of the elevator went completely unnoticed by her.

Though she’s a spy, she failed to see you at all, so she gasped when two hands adorned with silver rings settled over her thighs, looking up with red eyes, and a torn up lip she saw you. Her hands reached out to ensure you were real, and not just her fucked up mind playing tricks on her, and when you settled your warms hands over her frigid ones she knew it was you., “Y-you came? What about Darcy?”

“Darcy’s amazing—truly, and she’s got never breaking my heart on her side.,” you noted the obvious and the woman bowed her head in shame., “But my God Nat, your touch alone ignites something within me that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find elsewhere.,” you took her hands off your face, maneuvering them until they were on your hips as you moved to straddle the woman on the floating bed.

“You’re like my soulmate or something Natty, I’d never believed in that kind of thing before this, but now I know it’s not only a fairytale.,” your fingers lifted her face up to meet yours, her emeralds glossed over in pain, but still as beautiful as ever as you gazed right into them., “I love you Natasha, with all my heart.,” her lip caught between her teeth to hold back a sob., “More importantly though, I forgive you.”

Natasha couldn’t bare it, your forgiveness was not deserved, but she was incredibly grateful. Her arms were tight as they wrapped around your waist to keep you close, and she began to whisper that same tired phrase., “I love you.,” over and over again. Increasingly afraid that if she didn’t say it, like all the times before, that you’d leave her alone in her deserved misery.

“Don’t say another word.,” you cut her off with your lips slamming to hers while you pushed her into the mattress., “Show me instead…,” Natasha wasted no time as she flipped you over, pressing you into the firm mattress, your reality soon began to blur as you were made to gaze up at the stars. The woman who owned your heart did as told, using her hands she loved you as she always should’ve, your mind slipping away from you as she never slowed down, you began to see beautiful constellations of your very own making as you closed your eyes, and gave Natasha all of you—for good.

———————————

3,063 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 😳

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff pov #gxg #natasha x reader #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasharomanoffpov #black widow fluff #black widow angst #black widow x reader

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charlieconwayy · 1 year

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OTP Meme [2/2 Seasons]: Season 4

Well, maybe, I just wanted these people to see you through my eyes for one night. To see this girl, this woman, who has more class and intelligence and beauty and grace than anyone else who’s walking the face of the planet. And maybe things like this just come tumbling out of my mouth because I happen to be head over heels in love with you, but the scary thing is, I think they’re true . . . You know your mom should get a medal. Mom? Really? Why’s that? Because she raised the perfect boy. And maybe things like that just tumble out of my mouth because I happen to be head over heels in love with you, but the scary thing is, I think it’s true.

#dawsonscreekedit #pacey x joey #paceyjoeydaily #userkate #pacey witter #joey potter #*#gifs: dawson's creek #otpm*#so this was a hard choice for me bc i despise s4 and all the gross stuff that come w it #but doing this set made me realize that they have more good moments than i thought #and i refused to put anything from 414 except the final scene bc fuck that episode (even tho i hate that part of the set bc its ugly)#and there is actually a lot of joey reaffirming pacey which i appreciate even if the second half of the season ruins it #im looking forward to tackling s4 w you kate bc i have A LOT to say

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cariantha · 3 months

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Friends Again

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Category: Fluff Word count: 2.2K Summary: Ethan loses something important. Prompt: Imagine your OTP where both of them have a piece of jewelry that symbolizes their friendship, and it was just for fun and definitely not serious. But when one of them loses their jewelry, they start to realize that it (and their relationship) meant more to them than they thought. A/N: This is a prequel of sorts to Bad Dream. Some of the dialogue used is taken directly from Open Heart: Second Year.

A week before the conference in Miami…

The hour-long drive seemed to pass in the blink of an eye with conversation flowing easily between the attending and his intern. They had reached their destination, the Boston Medical Library, situated on the University of Massachusetts campus.

“Thanks again for coming and helping me with this research. I’m sure you had better things to do this weekend,” Ethan said, parking and turning off the engine.

“You. Are. Welcome,” Sawyer playfully chimed as she unbuckled her seat belt. "And what’s better than solving a medical mystery and saving a man’s life?”

She didn’t have to add “duh” to the end of that sentence. Ethan heard it in her tone and it made him smile on the inside. “God, where have you been all my life?” he thought to himself.

As they headed towards the library, they couldn’t help but notice the large farmer’s market set up in the adjacent parking lot.

“That looks fun,” Sawyer remarked as she eyed the various booths from a distance. A variety of vendors sold everything from fresh produce, to homemade baked goods, to arts and crafts.

Knowing it would make her happy, Ethan couldn’t resist. “Do you want to check it out?”

“You wouldn’t mind?” she asked, surprised.

“Not at all. Believe it or not, I enjoy going to the farmer’s market. My dad and I would go when I was young. There’s a good one at Copley Square you should check out sometime,” he recommended, guiding her toward the first row of tents.

The pair strolled from booth to booth, inspecting all the different goods for sale. Along the way, they laughed at the silly products, exchanged personal stories, and sampled some of the food and drink.

“Ohmygod,” Sawyer moaned, the chocolate melting on her tongue. “You have to try this,” she insisted, holding a sample to Ethan’s lips. Naturally and without thinking, he leaned forward eating the morsel right out of her hand, his lips brushing softly against her fingertips.

“It’s good, right?” she watched as he chewed and nodded affirmatively.

“Would you like me to pack up a box for you?” an older gentleman approached.

Ethan reached for his wallet, “We’ll take two boxes.”

“Happy wife, happy life! Am I right?” the vendor chuckled as he filled a container with chocolate truffles.

Seizing the opportunity to have a little fun at Ethan’s expense, Sawyer quickly replied. “Oh, he’s not my husband… yet. Two years of dating and he still hasn’t put a ring on it,” she waved the back of her ringless left hand.

Ethan snapped his head to Sawyer and with bulging eyes silently asked, “What are you doing?”

“Back in my day, you took a test drive and either made the purchase or kept looking… none of this leasing business,” the outspoken elder shook his head. “I proposed to my beautiful Margie one month after our first date, and I married her three months later. When you know, you know… you know?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him!” Sawyer continued the act, gently backhanding Ethan in the gut.

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose and whispered under this breath, “For Christ’s sake.”

Sawyer burst out laughing, finally breaking character. When the vendor looked at her puzzled, she confessed. “Sorry, we’re not actually together.” Elbowing Ethan in the side, “I just couldn’t resist messing with him. We’re just friends.”

“Well, in my experience, that's a good place to start,” the man winked, handing Ethan his purchase.

As they walked away, he shoved a box of truffles towards Sawyer with feigned annoyance. “Friends? Ha! More like a giant pain in my ass,” he contended.

A short while later they found a fresh produce booth. Ethan quickly occupied himself, inspecting and sniffing different fruits and vegetables. If Sawyer had been paying attention, she might have learned how capable he was with all the beautiful ingredients, but she was distracted by another nearby vendor. When Ethan struck up a conversation with the produce farmer, she slipped away to make a quick purchase.

“Where’d you go?” Ethan asked when she returned.

“I got you something. Hold out your hand,” she urged.

Ethan raised a skeptical eyebrow, but reluctantly did as she said.

Sawyer looped a braided leather bracelet around his wrist and fastened it.

He took a closer look, examining the metal charms. One with the letter E, and another with the letter S. “What’s this for?”

“It’s a friendship bracelet,” she explained, “and since I'm giving it to you, it's official now. We are definitely friends.”

“Is that so?”

“I don’t make the rules,” she shrugged.

“I’m pretty sure you just did.”

Ignoring his snark, “Oh, and it’s tradition that when someone gives you a friendship bracelet, you get to make a wish.”

Ethan just rolled his eyes. But as juvenile as it seemed, he knew exactly what he would wish for. “I’d wish for you,” he said to himself.

“Hey,” she took his hand and held it for a moment. “In all seriousness, you know I’m here as a friend, right? I mean… I’m learning a lot working with you on this case, and I’m grateful for the experience, but that’s not why I volunteered to help. I’m not here as an intern kissing your ass.”

Ethan knew from the very beginning that Sawyer was someone he could trust. Unlike other interns who would expect something in return, like a leg up in the competition, he knew she had no ulterior motives. Just the kindest and most genuine heart.

He looked her in the eye and squeezed her hand. “I know, Sawyer.”

Five months later…

Alone in the beer garden at Donahue's, Sawyer sat on her tucked leg, facing Ethan’s glowing profile. He stared straight ahead, transfixed by the firepit's dancing flames.

Having mustered the courage to confront the elephant in the room, Sawyer broke the somber silence that had settled between them. “Ethan, why didn’t you keep in touch?” She watched him take a deep, anticipatory breath. “No word from you at all for two months? After everything that happened between us?”

Ethan took a moment to find his words, then turned his head to meet her eyes. “Everything that happened between us is exactly why I didn’t contact you,” he began to explain. “Sawyer, if we’re going to work together on the diagnostics team, we need a fresh start.”

Resisting every urge to reach out and take her hand when she looked away from him, he pressed on. “Your professional development is too important to jeopardize it with whatever… whatever it was that we had.”

Sawyer snapped her head back to face him, “‘Had’, past tense.”

Ethan reached for the whiskey bottle that he had grabbed from inside and poured himself another glass. The sleeve of his green leather jacket rode up just enough for Sawyer to notice a braided bracelet wrapped around his wrist. The same one she gave him a week before their relationship went from friends to forbidden fruit.

“Yes. And the past is where it has to remain,” he added. Ethan’s eyes bored into hers, searching for understanding and begging for forgiveness.

After a long moment, Sawyer broke the connection, looking down at his wrist again. She thought it ironic that he would wear a reminder of “whatever they had,” while insisting that they must now ignore and bury their feelings for one another. That cheap piece of jewelry meant something to him. And the fact that he wore it now, meant that she did too.

So without concern for the consequences, she tested her theory. Surging forward, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him. A long and gentle kiss. An act of forgiveness, and one that he seemed willing to accept since he hadn’t pulled away. But when she leaned back, she saw the turmoil written across his face. Just as she had months ago in Miami.

“Dammit, Sawyer.”

A few weeks later…

As much as he hated to admit it, Ethan desperately missed Sawyer. He missed their easy friendship. The way she always seemed to know what he was thinking. The way he could talk to her about anything. The way he could be himself around her. Not Dr. Ramsey, but just Ethan.

Though they saw each other almost everyday, their interactions were mostly transactional. It had been difficult to let their guards down around each other. Ethan found it too tempting to cross the line, and Sawyer grew tired of the knock-backs.

The night that she helped him set up his Pictagram account reminded Ethan of the way they once were, before he left for the Amazon. It felt normal again. The friendly banter, the trust, the laughter… everything seemed right in the world for those few hours.

After she had gone home that evening, Ethan opened his desk drawer, finding a cherished item. It was something that he’d kept near and dear since the day he left for the Amazon.

“...how are you supposed to know when you’ve met the right person?”

“It’s love, Ethan… you just feel it…”

He slipped the leather over his fingers and rolled the charms with his thumb, as their conversation echoed in his mind. Then he thought back to the day Sawyer gave him the bracelet.

“When you know, you know…” he recalled the old, outspoken man saying.

There was no doubt he felt something for Sawyer, but was it love? Not having much experience with the feeling, he allowed himself to consider the possibility. But how to know for sure? That’s when Ethan remembered something else the vendor at the market said, when Sawyer told him they were just friends.

“Well, in my experience, that's a good place to start.”

A few days later, Sawyer approached the diagnostics team’s office. She spotted Ethan through the glass windows and paused to watch his odd behavior. He was searching for something, lifting up files, checking around the coffee station, and rummaging through the pockets of his outdoors coat. He was on his knees looking under his desk when she finally entered the room.

“Shit…” he muttered, unaware of her presence. When she cleared her throat, he startled and stood up.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Ethan tried to act normal, organizing items on his desk. “Nothing.”

“You sure? It looked like you were searching for something. Can I help you look?”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he clipped. Fortunately, June and Baz joined them for the start of their meeting, and the rookie team member didn’t press any further.

A couple hours later, Sawyer bumped into Bryce as he stepped out of the men’s restroom. “Oof!” he grunted.

“Sorry!” she quickly apologized as he caught her shoulders.

“Geez, Brooks, I know how bad you want to hit this, but at least buy me a drink first,” he teased, soliciting a roll of the eyes from Sawyer. “Whatcha up to?” he asked.

“Just a quick bathroom break, then off to check on our DT patient. You?”

“I’m on Ortho this week. On my way to scrub in for an ACL reconstruction.”

“Niiice. Well, have fun. I’ll catch you later,” she said, putting her hand on the door to the ladies room.

“Oh hey, do you know where the lost and found is? I found this bracelet on the floor.”

Sawyer instantly recognized the accessory. The personalized charms featuring the letters “E” and “S” were undeniable proof. Then it hit her. Was this what he was searching high and low for earlier?

“Luckily, I know who that belongs to, and I’m more than happy to return it to them.”

“Cool, catch you later,” he waved.

That afternoon, Sawyer returned to the diagnostics suite. There she found Ethan standing in front of the smartboard, studying MRI results.

Acknowledging her presence with a side eye glance, “Did you need me for something?”

Sawyer demanded that he hold out his hand.

“Whatever for?” he asked, turning and giving her his full attention.

“Just. Give me. Your hand,” she insisted.

He yielded and held out his hand.

Sawyer fished the leather band from her pocket and wiggled it in front of his face with a satisfied smirk. "Could this be what you were desperately searching for in the office earlier?"

Ethan hesitated, contemplating what he should admit. He finally decided on, “Maybe.”

She took his hand in hers. But before sliding the bracelet onto his wrist, she looked him in the eyes. “Will you, Ethan Jonah Ramsey, be my friend again?”

He rolled his eyes, cracking a big smile as she batted her eyelashes and eagerly awaited his answer. Then he twisted his lips playfully, as if he had to think about it.

Sawyer squeezed his hand hard, letting him know there was only one acceptable answer.

“Okay, okay,” he begged for relief, “I’ll be your damn friend.”

“Good…” she said, her tone more serious as she slid the bracelet over his hand, “because I’ve really missed that lately.”

“Honestly… me too,” he confessed quietly.

“There. That’s a much safer place for it. Wouldn’t you agree?” she asked, making sure the reminder of their friendship was snug and secure.

“I suppose you’re right,” he agreed, giving his wrist a twist.

“Well, friend, maybe we can talk later tonight and catch up a little?”

“Sure, call me,” he started, but then, “No, wait–”

Sawyer’s face fell immediately, assuming he suddenly remembered that he was trying to maintain those infuriating professional boundaries.

“What are you doing right now?” he asked. “How about a walk to Derry’s for a coffee break?”

Sawyer’s happy smile returned. “I would love that… bestie.”

“Let’s not push it, Sawyer.”

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @peonierose @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter @queencarb @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @jamespotterthefirst @liaromancewriter @zealouscanonindeer @tveitertotwrites @tessa-liam @youlookappropriate @kyra75 @socalwriterbee @txemrn

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #choices open heart #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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bluebird722 · 5 months

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After a Long Day

Summary: After a long day of working, a little private and family time are all Jean needs.

Rating: T for nudity

Pairing: Jeankasa

Author's Note: So...I noted in "Beyond the Tree on That Hill" that I was not entirely pro-Jeankasa but liked to read fanfiction and look at fanart. Well...now it's become my OTP, especially factoring in his character development throughout the series! I definitely have more drabbles coming, but this one took only an hour to write.

At last, the day was over. No more paperwork, or catching up on current events. No more writing letters to schedule appointments with overseas officials, or reading up on politics. No more reflecting on past pilgrimages, or reading up on notes from his fellow ambassadors from their previous posts, for future meetings. It was time to call it a day.

After a nice, hot dinner with his family, Jean eagerly hurried to the bathroom blessed with indoor plumbing, turned on the phonograph, took off his clothes, and dipped himself into a hot bath. Leaning his head back over the edge of the tub, draping his arms over the smooth sides, and parting his legs helped him release the stress from his body. For some reason, he felt like he could breathe easier as though the hot water was like a sponge absorbing all the tension. He kept his eyes closed for two minutes, slid his head into the water, and pushed himself up to wipe his face.

He swung his legs side to side, alternating between hitting his knees or moving them together. Making himself relax was itself stressful, but the music really helped. He didn’t know the music or composer, just that the genre was called jazz, but he didn’t really care to know the details. It was just something he knew about because Nicolo had the music player at his restaurant and played jazz for private dinner parties. Jean ignored the chill over his wet skin and watched his bent legs move along to the music.

Knock, knock.

“Jean?”

Only two people would be forgiven for interrupting his private time. He smiled without looking up. “Yes?”

“May I come in?”

Jean pulled apart his legs again and struggled to not smile. “Yes, you may.”

Mikasa–his darling Mikasa, his beautiful wife of three years–walked into the bathroom and hurried to the sink. “How are you feeling? Better?”

“Much,” he sighed. He hung his head back again. “Care to join me?”

Mikasa huffed, though he barely heard it over the running sinkwater. “Maybe later.” After she dried her hands, she walked to the back of the tub and, to Jean’s surprise but overall delight, knelt behind him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. Jean moved his head to touch her shoulder and breathed in her sweet scent. “Better?”

“Much more,” Jean sighed. Her touch was like magic in healing him. She didn’t care that his wet hair was making her clothing wet. One hand drifted over his bare chest and stroked both sides of his collarbone. “I could stay like this forever.”

Mikasa kissed his cheek. “So could I.” She grabbed the shampoo bar and ran the square over his head. Jean tilted his head so she could lather the shampoo throughout every inch of his hair, including his nape and behind his ears. Jean remembered when they were first married, how they used to take baths together and wash each other’s hair out of the love they had for each other.

Now, he had an even greater reason to love her.

Mikasa took her time with his crown and temples, her fingers massaging his scalp and quick to prevent anything going into his ear. Jean stared at the phonograph playing music and closed his eyes with a smile. He needed to close every day, good and bad, like this. His wife moved her hand, tickled his throat, and snaked down his chest, ribcage, and abdomen to finger the small hairs under his abdomen.

Jean chuckled and slightly shivered at her gentle, ticklish touch. “That felt nice,” he said seductively. He received a kiss on the cheek and more tender strokes over the hairs around his more intimate region. Reluctantly, he pinched his nose and slid his head underwater one more time, where she helped him rinse the suds from his locks.

When Jean sat back up, Mikasa patted his hair dry and folded her hands over his heart. “Are you truly happy with your life, Jean?” she asked. “I know today was a stressful day for you.”

“I am,” he said, “but yes, I was ready to be done.” Jean lowered himself into the bath water and stared ahead. “It’s not that all this research is burning me out, but…” He closed his eyes. “I had no idea it would be so hard thinking of compromises when you’re meeting with two countries at war with each other. It seems like every time you come up with a good idea, it could jeopardize even part of the other country’s economy somehow, or it violates their law in another way.”

Mikasa pouted, something she rarely did unless she, too, could understand the challenge of avoiding catch-22s in peace negotiations. “I don’t know how to help, though,” she said.

“You are now,” he whispered, “by being here…but it would be nicer…if you took off your clothes and came in and let me love you up–”

She interrupted him with a kiss beside his eye but was giggling. She smoothed her hands down his arms to lace her fingers between his. He folded his arms so both pairs of hands were crossed over his chest and turned his head. She kissed him, first gently and then with more intensity.

Jean kissed back just as hard. He could never tire of kissing her. He kissed her even when she was sick. Every kiss was a promise that more would follow, in good and bad times. He freed his right hand from hers so he could cup her face and deepen the kiss. With her left, she pulled his face to hers, sucking on his lips like they were a juicy fruit. Jean wondered if she suspected how hard he was becoming and that a familiar tugging was growing between his legs.

A loud wail broke apart the couple and shifted them into parent mode. “She’s hungry,” said Mikasa. “I can tell.”

Jean chuckled. “Nine months in you, and you can tell when she’s too warm, too cold, or too tired. Heck, I still can’t believe you can be in a different room from her and know when she needs changing.”

Mikasa, chuckling, reluctantly stood up and left the bathroom. Jean had one minute to himself and the music, and then she returned with her blouse untucked and her baby girl at her breast. No matter what mood he was in, Jean never felt anything other than pure delight to see the one person he loved more than anything else in the world.

Mikasa hummed to baby Sasha for five minutes until she stopped eating, and propped her onto her shoulder to pat her back. Jean smiled watching Sasha turn her head and flex her fingers until she let out a soft belch. “Want to say hi to Papa?” Mikasa whispered. Immediately, Sasha lifted her head, and when she saw Papa, she held out her arms to the man in the bathtub.

Jean happily took her after Mikasa stripped off the baby’s clothes and diaper, and held her up so that her feet touched his chest. “Yes, baby,” he cooed, “even Papa needs bathtime, but not as often as you, because you soil and spit over your clothes every day.”

Sasha, who was already showing signs of her first teeth coming in, still stuck out her tongue between her gums in a smile, like she knew what he was saying. Jean lowered Sasha into the water up to her navel, and then back on her feet onto his chest. He kissed her cheeks and whispered how much he loved her that he didn’t even pay attention to his wife until he heard a splash. She had already disrobed and seated across from him in the tub, her bent legs together. Jean’s smile widen. “At last, you decided to come in.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes, blushing. “She did spit milk over my blouse, so I might as well.” She hugged her legs and watched Jean plant kisses to Sasha’s tiny stomach, the inside of her forearm, and the back of her hand. Watching a father give love to his child warmed Mikasa every time, but seeing the way Jean fussed over and dote on their little girl, their Sasha, made her want to cry in delight.

Normally, Sasha hated bathtime, but she happily splashed her hands into the surface and kicked water to her father’s shoulders. Jean noisily kissed her cheeks to increase her laughter and pulled her up and down into the bath. “We haven’t even had a whole year with you, Sasha,” he said, “but I think I know now the best way to make sure you don’t whine when it’s bathtime. Of course, your mama and I will find out how to make it easier when you’re a little older and more bratty, but we will still love you with all our hearts, and more than anything else in the world.”

Sasha giggled, but then her smile fell. Her eyes crinkled like she was ready to cry.

“She’s hungry again,” Mikasa easily detected. She reached for their baby and sat up to easily guide Sasha’s mouth without dipping her ear under the water. Every time Jean watched his wife nurse their daughter, he noticed that she herself made a face like she was on the verge of tears, like it was the most beautiful way to bond a mother and baby.

“Stay right there,” said Jean. “I’ll be right back.”

Mikasa watched him stand up from the tub (and always admired how fit and toned his naked body was), dry himself, wrap the towel around his waist, and leave the bathroom. He came back with his sketchbook and charcoal.

“Aren’t you–”

“It shouldn’t get wet,” he reassured her. “I’ll put it away when she starts kicking.” Jean quickly opened to a blank page and stole every detail he could, from the reflection of his wife’s knees in the water, to the curl of Sasha’s fingers, how Sasha’s cowlicks hid her face except the roundness of her cheek, and the adoration on Mikasa’s face when she studied her daughter.

Sasha finished before Jean was completely done, but he finished what he knew from memory as Mikasa patted her back. This time, after Sasha belched (and drooled out a little milk), she nuzzled her face into her mother’s neck and closed her eyes. Jean had enough space on his page to bring to life what he saw but did not want to commemorate with a camera.

Mikasa waited for Jean to finish to reluctantly stand up, dry herself one handedly with a towel, let her husband tuck it around her hips, and carry the baby back to her nursery. Jean used this opportunity to drain the lukewarm water and pour in clean water, with a scrubbing of soap for bubbles. When Mikasa came back, she discarded the towel and sat across from him again.

It seemed so long ago, Jean reflected, when he was first attracted to her with all of that long, beautiful black hair and was devastated when she agreed to cut it off. Now, her hair was longer, and he was even more in love with her now. She never tired of hearing him say, “Having Sasha made me fall even more in love with you. I didn’t know how much I could love you more than romantically until I watched you go through labor and give birth.” Of course, Jean had no idea how much he could love or give love until the very moment that Sasha was born. He could only attribute that to the warrior woman across from him, tired from breastfeeding but happy to resume time alone with her husband.

Jean kissed her knee and stroked the cap under it. “I’m always telling you how much I love you, how you and Sasha are the most important things in the world and in my life.”

“Yes.” When she reached forward to stroke his wet hair farther from his forehead, he kissed her skin.

“Well, you have no idea how important you two are to me, how you both make me feel after long, stressful days like today.” He kissed her knee again and decided to peck down her shin later that night in the comfort and protection of their bedsheets. “At the end of the day, I remember why I’m doing this and not letting your embroidery become our sole source of income–so that you and I can watch Sasha grow up healthy and happy, no threat to her life or future, and maybe give her little brothers and sisters, in a peaceful island.”

Jean leaned over Mikasa’s knees, put his hands on either side of her, and kissed her. “Then you and I can continue to live in peace, and we can grow old and pass the same, after a long, good life after everything.”

He noticed that her small smile grew wider. “That’s a future that I want to work for as well,” she agreed. “I would be happy to spend the rest of my life and my bed with you.” She put her hands on either side of his face to kiss him deeper; he gently put his hands on her arms. Jean didn’t know if they were going to make love later, either right there in the tub or within their sheets, but he did not want the night to end.

#jean kirschtein #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman #jeankasa #mikasa x jean #jeanmika #mikajean #fanfiction #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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autumnslance · 10 months

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Year of the OTP - July 2023 - Stars

(More Shadowbringers timeline, have some yearning during a key early moment. Original prompt list Here. 2 sections, 2 screenshots, 850ish words nearly evenly split between 2 POVs.)

Thancred cooked over a small fire as Minfilia imbued his ammunition. There was a sudden pressure in his ears, on his shoulders. The sky rippled…

…and broke.

The oppressive Light evaporated like clouds of steam, plunging the world into darkness. Minfilia shrieked, the cartridges tumbling from her hands. “Thancred?!”

He couldn’t answer immediately, staring up, the stinging wetness in his eyes not from the campfire smoke.

The moon shone down, a gleaming disk of silver. Stars scattered across the velvety darkness, blinking and winking like old friends. And they were, he realized, recognizing constellations memorized to help comrades with their Astrology studies once upon a time.

“Thancred, is this…night?”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he managed hoarsely. “The night sky, the moon and stars.”

She hugged herself. “Then this means…”

“She’s here,” Thancred whispered. His heart tried to beat through his chestplate, his pulse in his ears, echoing: she’s here, she’s here, she’s here, she’s here!

“We have to find her,” Minfilia said, crystal-blue gaze turning from the sky to the shadowed woodline.

“We will,” Thancred replied. “But first we need to pick up those cartridges and eat.”

His mind spun while his heart continued to do backflips behind his sternum. Five years of dreaming, of longing, and Aeryn was here. Had much time passed for her as well? Or was it as the Exarch’s mirror showed, and she was the same as she had been their last night together in Ala Mhigo?

Aeryn’s hair falling in midnight waves down her back, her eyes shining silver in amusement at his jokes and teasing, the lilt of her accent followed by her laughter, the scent of the white violas she wore in her hair, the soft touch of her skin against his, the heat between them keeping the chill of the highland night at bay…

Thancred let out a sigh, hardly noticing his meal, vaguely aware of Minfilia watching him.

Five years in this harsh realm had changed him; would it be too much? Would Aeryn still recognize him? Still want him?

He ought to be sure of the answer; he knew her well enough. But that ever-present voice in the back of his head whispered warnings as always. One would think he’d be able to ignore his self-doubt by now.

“Let’s clean up and break camp,” he said, dousing the fire. Minfilia whined at the loss of light. “Your eyes will adjust; it’s a lovely night, for the first this world’s seen in far too long.”

Thancred paused to look at the sky again. She’s here.

—

Aeryn looked up at the sky again, the familiar moon and constellations looking back, comforting after their absence.

She had only been in the First for a little over a fortnight, the lack of change each day disorienting and the constant press of Light wearisome. How much stranger it must be for the people of the First, who had never seen the night, never known the natural rhythmic shifts in time and weather and the beauty of the true sky!

Alphinaud also kept pausing to look up and smile, his relief and happiness palpable. So many other people as they walked by were staring up, talking to one another in excitement, unable to tear their eyes from the starscape above. There were many tears, prayers and songs of thanks even before they entered the city proper.

As they passed through the checkpoint, the Exarch quietly spoke to a guard. “Any word from Thancred?”

Are you seeing the stars too?

Was Thancred nearby? Had he seen the Light split away and wonder why, or did he know what this meant? Was he even in Lakeland, or in another part of the realm where Light still billowed and swirled above? Did he yet care, or had the years he had spent here—years!—dull his affections? What of this companion the Exarch had mentioned?

“Not yet, my lord.”

The moonlight had streamed in through the window of her room in Ala Mhigo, the stars twinkling, their light making Thancred’s fair hair practically glow as they had lounged in the bed, talking and joking, laughing and teasing. His hands had been warm on her skin as they cunningly explored her, his voice low and sending shivers down her spine. His mismatched eyes had glimmered in amusement, the line of his mouth crooking into a smile before leaning in to kiss her again, drawing her close to his warmth against the night’s chill.

The next day his body lay frighteningly still and silent, everything that made him Thancred…gone.

She could count the time in mere sennights and moons. But he had been here without the moon and stars, without her, for five entire years.

Do you know that I’m here? Do you still care? Do you see the stars?

“Aeryn,” Alphinaud called, pausing with the Exarch at the head of the bridge leading into the Crystarium.

She turned her face from the sky to smile at her companions as she rejoined them.

I’m here, her heart silently called. And I brought you the stars. Do you see them? Do you see me?

#final fantasy xiv #lyn writing #lyn edits #YOTP 2023 #Shadowbringers #Lakeland #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #wolcred #Ryne Waters #Crystal Exarch #Alphinaud Leveilleur #Aeryn Striker #Shippy Nonsense

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thatwritingho · 8 months

Text

Kloktober Day 1

Favorite Character or OTP

My favorite character is half of my OTP, so both!

Pairing: Relish! Which is Pickles the Drummer and Olive Axworthy, my OC. get it, because pickle and olive relish, hahaha

Rating: SFW, only mildly suggestive moments

Summary: Pickles makes a miscalculation when planning a date with Olive. Luckily, he thinks of a better plan, and so they ditch the fancy restaurant they both hated to relocate.

What a perfect night for a cemetery date.

It was beautiful.

Glittering crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, spotless white tablecloths, and a bouquet of fresh flowers in the center of their private, tucked away table with a gorgeous view of the city, shielded by a wall of live greenery.

It was beautiful.

And Olive looked absolutely miserable.

Gorgeous, in a black velvet dress that slit up to her hip and gave her immaculate cleavage, showing off both her sleeve and thigh tattoo. Her wild curls were more tamed than usual, her makeup dark and stunning. Around her neck hung the anatomically correct heart pendant he gifted her. Silver glinted from each of her ear piercings, bracelets dangled from her wrists, rings covered her fingers, her nails shone black and pointed.

She was gorgeous, stunning, breathtaking… but still miserable, all the same.

As Olive finished the last bite of her dessert, Pickles gulped down the rest of his wine, bracing himself.

"Everythin' okee, babe?"

Dark eyes flit up to meet green, and she shrugged.

"Yeah. Everything's fine."

The raising of a single pierced brow was all it took, and she sighed, teething at her tongue ring.

"It's just. Y'know…." she gestured around with her eyes.

"What?"

“This place, it’s just…”

“Yeah?”

“...fancy.”

“Is dat a bad thing?”

Olive shrugged, “I mean, like, objectively, no.”

“Okee… And, uh, not objectively?”

“Subjectively?” sighing, she chewed at her lip, glancing around, “It’s just. Not really my thing.”

Pickles nodded, staring at her as he considered how to turn this date around. Where could they go now that she would like? Hell, where did she even like to go? It was too late for a museum or a bookstore, they were too dressed up to go break into some abandoned building or walk in a park. Where was he gonna take her, a fucking mausoleum?

Oh.

Duh.

Grin curling up his lips, Pickles stood, carelessly tossing some cash from his wallet down onto the table, "Well what the hell're we doin' here, den? Let's get outta this place."

Smiling, Olive placed her hand in his offered one, standing to follow him to the limo. She snorted when Pickles insisted on opening the door for her, but thanked him anyway, waiting inside as he whispered something to the driver before joining her. The ride was largely uneventful, save for Pickles slipping down the straps of Olive's dress to snort a line or two or five off her tits.

When it finally rolled to a stop, Olive pried her lips from Pickles', peering out the tinted windows as a large grin took over her face. As she turned back to him, dark eyes sparkling, face lit up in childish delight, and asked "Really?!" with more excitement in her voice than he had ever heard, Pickles felt his stomach flip, heat rushing to his face as his mouth went dry.

"Y-yeah, dood."

Lips pressed to his cheek in a soft, sweet kiss, and Olive bumped the tip of her nose to his.

"Thank you."

Before he had a chance to respond, she gripped his hand and nearly drug him from the limo, but Pickles managed to grab the doorframe, stopping just in time.

"Whoah, dood, hang ahn! Jeezus, the skeletons aren't going anywhere!"

Pickles rummaged back inside, Olive pulling a face when he returned, a pierced brow raising in question.

"What?"

"Is there anything other than champagne?"

Pickles gave her an incredulous look.

"...yew don't like champagne?"

"No."

"...okee. Well, there's a '78 Giacomo Conterno Monfortino or a '96 Domaine Leroy Romanée-Saint-Vivant Grand Cru in dere, too, if yah want one of those instead."

"I have no idea what that means."

Pickles grinned at her blank face, "Ones a barolo, ones a pinot noir."

"...I still don't know what that means. It's just wine. Whatever is fine, it all tastes the same, anyway."

The grin fell from his face at her words, replaced with an expression of shock, disbelief, and mild horror.

"Babe, yew… yew don't actually mean dat, right?"

Olive shrugged.

"Yeah. I mean, aside from the color difference, it all just tastes like wine."

Shell shocked, Pickles swapped the bottle of champagne out for the ten-thousand dollar bottle of wine, the knowledge that it would be absolutely wasted on her beginning to set in.

It just tastes like wine.

Jesus Christ.

He needed to take her to a wine tasting yesterday.

Shaking it off, Pickles slung his arm over Olive's shoulders as they walked through the gates of the cemetery, glancing around at the fog hanging low on the ground, the murder of crows cawing and pecking amongst the headstones nearby as they meandered along the path, the clack of Olive's heels loud in the chilled air. A gentle breeze sent her curls dancing, swaying and rustling the leaves left clinging on the skeletons of trees, an owl hooting somewhere off in the distance.

What a perfect night for a cemetery date.

The moon shone bright behind the sparse, wispy clouds, lighting up her face, her happy, relaxed expression such a stark contrast to the one worn at dinner he could hardly reconcile the two.

"Wanna know somethin'?"

"Hm?"

Pickles leaned in close, whispering, "I fuckin' hate fancy restaurants, too."

Olive laughed, loud and sudden and so hard she snorted, slapping a hand over her mouth as Pickles laughed at her, the both continuing to giggle at each other as the conversation continued.

"Then why did we go!"

"I don't know, dood! A fancy dinner, dats, like, the date!"

"Yeah, but it sucks!"

"Yer tellin' me! Gahd, got all dressed up in dis stupid suit fer nothin'."

Pickles tugged at his already loosened tie as Olive laughed harder, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt

"Yew look hot as hell, though. 'least dere's dat."

Heat flushed to her face at the compliment, and she smiled, biting her lip as Pickles grinned his crooked grin at her.

"Oh, hey," Pickles grabbed her elbow, steering her to the side, "We're here."

Raising a brow as Pickles veered off path, Olive pauses to slip off her heels before following him barefoot amongst the graves, the ground cold and dew-damp on her feet. At the base of a tall, wide, old oak tree, Pickles plopped down in the grass, half-sitting half-laying against it's base.

Grinning up at her, he pat his lap in invitation, "Saved a seat jest fer yew, baby. Best one in da whole house."

Her deadpan made him laugh, and Olive rolled her eyes with a fond smile before dropping down. Freckled arms wrapped securely around her as she curled up in his lap, finger tips ghosting along her arm to raise goosebumps.

The two passed the bottle of wine back and forth, chatting here and there.

"Hey."

Lifting her head from his chest, Olive was met with lips on hers, tasting of wine and weed and cigarettes. His hand gently cupped her face, thumb caressing over her cheek as their lips met time and again, Pickles relishing the way Olive melted into him more and more with each press.

Parting his lips from her was no easy feat - it never was - but Pickles managed, bumping their noses as his eyes sought Olive's in the moonlight. Their breaths puffed and mixed between them, curls scented of wine forming to dance on the crisp night air.

Mouth curling into a crooked grin, Pickles kissed over to her ear and nipped, facial hair tickling with his next words, "Heh. Wanna go fuck ahn a grave?"

To be continued ;)

Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think!

If you'd like to read more of these two, check out Momento Mori, and Olive's Mtl OC Wiki page!!

#kloktober 2023 #kloktober #kloktober2023 #olive axworthy #pickles the drummer #metalocalypse #metalocalypse oc #mtl oc #metalocalypse fanfic #mtl fanfic #momento mori

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hoeforhao · 9 months

Text

🪀 Love bleeds Lilac 🫐 || Minghao Series || Pt.1

⤥pairing: non idol!minghao x fem!reader

⤥genre: fluff, slight mentions of mental health issues, kind of angst but not too much, discovering self love, lots of comfort. A feel good yet deep concept!!

⤥warnings: none except some mentions of mental health problems.

⤥parts: 1/?

⤥author's note: what's a better way to resume writing than doing it with some minghao angsty fluff!!!! I wrote this piece for wattpad almost two years back but it never saw the light of day😮‍💨. This concept is a first for me so tell me if y'all liked this and want other parts 🫐

[Y/n POV]

Colour? Is it really necessary to have colours in our life? Ain't a monochromatic life more soothing to our eyes and our soul?

I kept asking this question to myself everyday but never found the answer. Everyday I see people walking down the streets, in beautiful clothes painting the world with their own colours. But my world? My world embodies different shades of grey. My friends and family see me as a dull person who just wears either dull or black clothes and looks like as if a dementor sucked out my soul.

How do colours really feel like? Will it fill up my empty dark world with bright sunshine? Will it make me walk a bed of roses instead of thorns? With all these thoughts in my mind, I decided to finally pull myself out from the void and let colours touch myself.

[OTP]

" Hello this is Seoulafeel's Parlour. How may I help you today?" the voice on the phone said.

" Yeah Hello. Good morning. I wanted to make an appointment for hair colour. Can you tell me if a slot is available today and the estimated cost of the service? It will be really helpful if less people are there during my time" Iris spoke hesitatingly.

" Sure ma'am. You can book an appointment at 3 in the noon. We will have few customers then and you'll feel comfortable. Also the cost for the colour will vary from 20,000 KRW to 50,000 KRW depending on the type of colour you choose" the person from the other side informed.

" Okay I'll be there by 2:50! Thanks a lot for considering my request. Have a good day" with this she ended the call.

[Y/n POV]

Am I really ready for this? Am I ready to come out of the closet I've been in all these years? But I need to take the risk! I need to know what happens if I live like others do. Let's do it Kim Y/n let's do this!

*Time skip*

It's 14:45 and here I'm, standing in front of a glass door adorned by beautiful white flowers. The board above the gate says "Seoulafeel's Parlour. We make you feel your soul". I guess it's really time for me to listen to my inner voice. After convincing myself for about 7 mins, I finally pushed open and door and stepped in. I had no idea that that one step will change my entire life.

As I bring myself to the receptionist's desk they ask me my name and my appointment time and then escort me to the hair colour station. Being the socially awkward person I'm, I didn't look around and just plopped onto the chair. The hair stylist ties the cape around my neck and tells me to wait for a few mins. As I was waiting while playing with my fingers, I suddenly heard a deep voice; a voice which sent shivers down my spine, one which held a book of mysteries within itself.

"So what colour are you planning on doing Ms?" the voice asked.

I slowly turned my head sideways to see a tall figure sitting on the chair beside me. Only his pants and the sleeves of his jacket were visible below the cape. To my surprise they were all black, just like me, just like my world. His hair was covered his eyes and but I still could feel his side stare, piercing holes into my soul. I was lost in him when I heard the same voice again,

"It's disrespectful to stare at a stranger like that Ms. But I'm a gentleman so I won't mind"

I could clearly feel his smirk even though he was wearing a mask.

I finally mustered up the courage to speak to him.

" I haven't really decided the colour yet. I may go for blue. The colour blue attracts me a lot just like the endless seas."

"Well blue is indeed a fascinating colour. It makes the soul wander free and dream beyond boundaries"

I was shocked. I always used to think that I was the one who always found deeper meanings in everything. But him talking like that make me rethink.

" What colour are you going for then?" I asked.

"Red. Just like the Earth's burning core. Just like how hell is defined in books. But also the colour that made the poets define love with it" the man replied.

I just hummed in response.

"You know right that red and blue makes purple? The colour of finding yourself and finding the one who makes you fins your self"

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flightofaqrow · 2 years

Text

tag refresh, ships

(reminder that ‘+’ denotes platonic dynamic)

#* suddenly you're ripped into being alive = qrow + clover *#* her sentences were icebergs / the tip from her mouth / the rest kept in her head = qrow + summer *#* they're always like this = qrow + glynda *#* get my gray hairs from you = qrow + winter *#* caught between brains and heart we both suffer = qrow + james *#* it's all an adventure that comes with a breathtaking view / walking the tightrope with you = branwen twins *#* i always knew that in a crowd of thousands i'd be able to find you = cloqwork *#* they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered = fair game *#* the world is too quiet without you nearby = earth and sky *#* something pretty magical about it = otp ** right hand witch and left hand familiar *#* we may not be the brightest in the galaxy but we're here and we matter = starry skies *#* love me and tell me that i'm good for you = taiqrow *#* we met / i looked up / i knew i would love you because even the sky looked different = feathered bandits *#* went from one conversation to your lips on mine = songbird *#* separate pieces of the same whole = double down *#* falling into mutually satisfying weirdness = pack mentality *#* a person's imperfections make them perfect for someone else = calamitous harmony *#* we are products of our past but we don't have to be prisoners of it = snowbird *#* seek those who fan your flames = wildfire *#* she became more and more beautiful the longer i looked = qrow x summer *

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seraphfighter · 4 months

Note

Hey! 3 for the OTP prompts! ❤️❤️❤️

3. Write about your ship holding hands in a tense moment.

Listen, I do not know how this turned into a 1.6k-word piece, but it did. For some context, this is set in my modern au, because in the canon au Val would simply not put up with this, the badass merc that she is. (and you can blame @glitchinginthegarden for the idea)

To anyone reading, be advised: This fic has references to past abuse and features a man being creepy and scummy in general.

The night air feels refreshing after being in the stuffy bar all night.

V retreats to the entrance of the alleyway next to the bar's main doors. Leaning back against the brick wall, she pulls out her pack of cigarettes and places one between her lips to light it. She takes a deep drag and exhales, the smoke billowing out in front of her. God, she’s worn out. Nights with Judy are fun but she can only handle being crowded against a bunch of drunk people for so long. It’s not her scene.

Checking the time, V pulls her phone out of her pocket. 10:03 PM. Johnny should be here soon. He’d agreed to pick her up coming back from a late night at the studio. Shockingly, he didn’t whine about her lack of a car this time. Probably because she’s sleeping over at his place. She’d been planning on it anyway and she wasn’t going to hop on her bike after a couple of drinks, even though she doesn’t feel the effects of the alcohol.

She occupies her time by scrolling through her feed on her phone while she smokes. Hearing footsteps to her right, she doesn’t think anything of it until a deep voice asks, “Got a spare cig?”

V glances up at the man coming to a stop by her side. Already, she’s annoyed. She has no interest in talking to a random stranger. Hoping he’ll take the cigarette and leave her alone, she pulls out her pack and passes him one. “Thanks,” the man says, mustering what appears to be his best attempt at a charming grin as he uses his own lighter to light it.

She doesn’t respond and returns her attention to her phone. But as her luck has it, the man doesn’t leave and keeps speaking, “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

Fuck, she knows where he’s going with this. “Not interested,” she responds flatly, not bothering to look up from her phone.

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be like that. I’m just saying a pretty woman shouldn’t be out here by yourself like this.” Out of her peripherals, she sees him move a step closer. She moves a step back.

Unease begins to curl in her gut. She shuts her phone’s screen off but keeps it in her hand with a tight grip as she turns her attention to the man. “I said, I’m not interested.”

The man blatantly drags his eyes over her body and she fights back a shudder. A picture of false innocence, he tilts his head. “I’m just trying to be friendly here. Night City’s dangerous you know, it’s not safe for a woman as beautiful as you to be here alone. Something bad could happen.”

God, you can’t be a woman and go anywhere without being harassed anymore. V throws her cigarette down on the ground and uses her boot to smother it with more force than necessary. “I can handle myself, thanks.” She’ll just wait inside the bar for Johnny. Hoping that this will be the end of the conversation, V moves to step past him, but the man is faster, blocking her path. He approaches her and it’s not until she backs up that realizes he’s got her cornered against the wall.

Her heart leaps into her throat. Fuck, fuck. She glances to the side to see if there’s anyone within sight, but they’re alone.

“Let me at least walk you inside, then. I’ll buy you a drink.” When he speaks, she can smell the bourbon on his breath. Markus. Backed into the corner of their room. Her palms are clammy.

She feels like she’s going to be sick.

“What? So you can spike it? Fuck off.” She tries to move past him but again, he blocks her.

The man’s not that much taller than her but she feels small beneath his stare. “Where are you going? We’re just having a friendly conversation.” He flicks the last of his cigarette to the side and braces his hand against the wall above her.

She could knee him in the balls and make a run for it. V’s fast and the man is clearly drunk. It’d be easy to outrun him, right? Why doesn’t she have her pocket knife on her? She should know better than to not carry it.

“Choom, back the fuck off right now.” She’s proud of how steady her voice sounds.

“Or what?”

The screech of tires against the asphalt of the parking lot echoes down the alleyway. Before she can process it, the man is being hauled back and away from her. The man stumbles away and then Johnny’s in front of her, his back to her. With a hard shove, he has the offending man crashing into the opposite wall. Johnny spares a glance at her, his face contorted in an anger she’s not used to seeing on him, before he advances on the man.

“The fuck did you think you were doin’, huh? She told you to back the fuck off!” His voice is a loud angry growl, akin to some of his vocals in his songs.

The man holds his hands up. He looks terrified, the confidence he was exuding with her long gone. “I-I didn’t mean anything by it man!”

“Cut the bullshit!” Johnny barks. “Didn’t mean anythin’ by it? So you think it’s okay to harass my girl when she tells you to back the fuck off?!”

V hates how hearing Johnny refer to her as his girl makes her feel all fuzzy inside, even in this situation.

“I didn’t know! She didn’t say she had a boyfriend!”

Pathetic. This man is pathetic. V steps forward but still keeps herself behind Johnny. “ It doesn’t matter, I told you I wasn’t interested. It’s the same fucking principal,” she snaps.

Johnny’s fists clench down at his sides. “Well? You aren’t fuckin’ deaf! You still think it’s okay? I should teach you a lesson right now, you piece of shit. Maybe then you’ll get it through your thick skull to leave women alone.”

“I’m sorry!” The man almost looks close to tears.

In the parking lot and near the entrance to the alleyway, people are starting to gather. Their yelling is drawing a crowd. V sees more than a few phones with the cameras facing them. They need to get out of her before Johnny’s recognized.

V grasps his hand, forcing his fist to unclench so she can weave her fingers through his. She doesn’t know if it’s his hand trembling or hers. Johnny looks over at her and beneath the anger, she can see concern for her.

“Johnny, he’s not worth it.” Subtly, she flicks her eyes over to the crowd gathering and he turns his head to glance. She keeps her voice pitched low, “We need to get out of here.”

Oblivious, the man keeps babbling. “I won’t do it again, I promise!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Johnny snarls at him.

“Johnny.” She tugs on his hand, more insistent this time. “Let’s go.”

He wants to fight her on it, she can tell, but ultimately he steps back. He turns to leave but not before growling to the man, “Get out of here. I better not see your fuckin’ face again or I’ll bash your skull in.”

Hearing a few murmurs of Johnny’s name, V keeps her head low and turned away as they retreat from the alley, still not used to the public attention. Johnny, as usual, is unbothered. He keeps his head held straight and high as they make the short walk to the Porsche. As soon as they're sat inside, he peels out of the parking lot, gripping her hand tightly where it rests on the center console.

The farther they get from the bar, the more adrenaline V feels fade out of her body. The glass of the window is cool against her forehead as she rests against it. She closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing until her heart rate slows and there’s no longer bile climbing up her throat.

She doesn’t notice Johnny pulling over until they're stopped along the side of an unbusy street. Lifting her head from the window, she turns to ask Johnny what he’s doing, but he doesn’t give her a chance before his free hand cradles the side of her face and his lips are on hers. V exhales through her nose and melts into it, languidly kissing him until he pulls away. His eyes dart over her face.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He asks quietly and tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Yeah.” When her voice comes out shaky, she clears her throat and tries again, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little shaken up is all.” She tightens her grip on his hand as she pauses for a moment, gnawing on the inside of her lip. She debates on continuing. “Memories and all that, y’know.”

Understanding fills Johnny’s features. “Shoulda let me beat the fucker up,” he mutters darkly. “Teach him a lesson.”

“The last thing we need right now is you getting a criminal offense. You know that.” She smiles wryly. “The media would have a hay day with it, though.”

He scoffs, “The media’s published worst things about me. Still doesn’t make it right, what he did. What either of them did.”

She blinks past the threat of tears. Dropping her head to his shoulder, she breathes in the familiar smell of tobacco and cyprus. “I know.” Johnny pets the back of her head, toying with her hair and if he notices a few tears soak into the fabric of his jacket, he doesn’t say anything. “Can we just go home, get some greasy takeout, drink too much, and watch a shitty movie?”

Home. She doesn’t even care she called his place that. In her heart, it is home.

He presses a kiss to her temple. “Course we can, Val.”

#my writing #ship: bleed into me #camera shop au #ch: valerie ramirez #silverv #johnny silverhand #female v #cyberpunk 2077 #tw: abuse

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baronessblixen · 1 year

Text

Magical

Yesterday I remembered that I wanted to do the Year of the OTP event. Only took me all of January, eh? So here's the first story. I used the prompts kiss, fake dating and snow.

Set in late season 6, fluff. Wc: 1,144

Tagging @today-in-fic

At first, it was beautiful: A soft, white blanket of snow covering the streets, the trees, and every roof in sight. It was quieter, too, with people smiling, despite the bitter bite of the cold winter air. Now, most of the snow is just slush, barely white, and quite frankly, annoying. At least today it is with Scully rushing towards the bar Mulder begged her to meet him.

It's late afternoon, the sun already set, and Scully just wants to go home. Take off her heels, put her feet in warm, fluffy socks, have dinner, and maybe go to bed at a reasonable time. Those were her plans. Mulder, apparently, has others. She couldn't ignore his texts, pleading with her. Asking her to hurry. If she's honest, she's a bit worried. Knowing Mulder, though, it's probably just a case or something he forgot to mention. But why can't it wait until tomorrow? Why didn't he just call her?

She enters the bar and is not at all surprised at how packed it is. She has to get on tiptoes to look for Mulder, but even then, she can't spot him. Just as she's about to take out her phone and call him, a hand touches her back. She knows it's Mulder before he leans close, his breath tickling her neck, whispering, "it's just me." Heat shoots through her body, making her sweat in her winter coat.

"I'm here," she says, sounding out of breath. "What's so important it couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"You trust me, right?" The question throws her.

"Of course I do," she says.

"I will explain later, but... please just play along? Oh no, there she is again. Please?"

"Who?" Scully asks but doesn't get an answer, because Mulder puts his arm around her and pulls her close. He's wearing the fakest smile she's ever seen and it's directed at a tall brunette that's walking towards them. Scully gasps, briefly mistaking the woman for Diana. It's not her. For one, this woman is much younger.

"Fox," she says, touching his arm. "You can't just wander off!" She snickers but the sound dies on her lips when she notices Scully. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Dana," he says. "She's my girlfriend." Scully snaps her head in his direction. Their eyes meet and his are desperate. Please play along. Please, please, please. All his texts now make sense. Except... they don't. Isn't this woman exactly the kind of woman he's interested in?

"Richie didn't say anything about a girlfriend," the young woman says, crossing her arms. She narrows her eyes and observes Scully, who puts her hand on Mulder's arm, gently squeezing it.

"Richie didn't know," Scully says. She doesn't know who Richie is, but figures it doesn't matter. "We keep a low profile."

"Whatever," the woman whose name Scully doesn't know says. "He's boring, you know. What a waste of time." With that she stalks off and Mulder lets out a sigh of relief. He doesn't let go of her, his arm still around her.

"Thank you," he says.

"Who was that?"

"Natalie," Mulder explains. "Or Nats, as she introduced herself to me. Langly set this up."

"Richie," Scully says, putting two and two together.

"I didn't know he was going to do it. He's here with a date and neither Frohike nor Byers wanted to come. So he ambushed me."

"Poor Mulder," Scully says, biting her lip. It's no use, though, and she starts laughing. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," he says softly, smiling at her. Natalie is long gone but they're still holding each other.

"I owe you. How can I make it up to you?"

"Take me home," she says, much to Mulder's surprise, judging by his expression, "and get us some take-out."

"Done and done." His hand returns to the small of her back, leading her outside, back into the cold. But this time she isn’t cold. Mulder’s hand remains in its familiar place as they walk slowly toward Mulder’s car.

“Hey look,” he says. “It’s snowing again.” Scully lifts her head into the dark blue sky that’s tinged with orange hues. She takes a deep breath and lets the cold air revive her. She smiles when a snowflake lands on her lips. She catches it with her tongue, just like she used to do as a child. That’s when she notices Mulder watching her. She doesn’t know how she missed it. Or why she was surprised by what happened at the bar just now. It’s all in his eyes right now, right here.

“I always thought snow was magic,” Mulder says, his voice as gentle as the snowfall.

“You did?” She asks and he nods.

“If you think about it,” he says, turning to her, “it really is magic. So many conditions have to happen at the same exact time for it to snow. Wouldn’t you call that magic?”

“You know how I feel about magic,” she says.

“Fine, it’s not magic. But it does look magical, doesn’t it? Each snowflake is unique in its form. No two are the same and each is perfect and beautiful.”

“It does look magical,” she concedes. The snowfall is getting heavier, snowflakes catching in Mulder’s hair and his eyelashes. He looks beautiful and she considers telling him so. Instead, she just stares at him and watches him standing there in the snow. Right up until he catches her gazing at him and not the sky.

“Hi,” he says with a grin.

“Hi. So, um, Mulder… what happened in that bar was-”

“I know I should have warned you, but I was desperate.”

“Why?”

“Why?” She nods at him, needing to hear him spell it out. “I wasn’t interested in her.”

“She’s your type.”

“She’s not.”

“Pff, come on, Mulder.”

“Fine, she’s my type. But… looks aren’t everything. I wasn’t interested in her. I’m not interested in anyone who might be considered tall and brunette.” Despite the cold, her cheeks flush. “We were going to get food, right? I don’t want you to turn into an icicle. I think we’ve spent enough time in arctic temperatures.”

“You didn’t even kiss me,” she blurts out and Mulder stops walking again, turning to her.

“What?”

“I always thought that any fake relationship included kissing.” Her heart is thumping in her chest, but she knows she’s right, and she’s not shying away from her feelings, or from his. This time, he isn’t either. He grins at her and pulls her closer to him. Their bodies flush, she has to crane her head to look at him. It’s worth it.

“I hope you know that nothing about this is fake,” he says, lowering his head, his lips so close she can feel his breath against her own.

He steals her ‘I know’ from her tongue and they kiss and kiss and kiss.

It’s simply magical.

#when i say fluff... i mean fluff #i needed this #my brain needed this #let's hope i remember the february fic a bit earlier!#msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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dangermousie · 10 months

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Farscape rewatch: Liars Guns and Money - 2x19-2x21 - meta part the first...

Liars, Guns and Money is my second favorite multiparter in all of Farscape, behind only We Are Screwed in season 4. Interestingly, they both involve Crichton on the ragged edge of sanity and a rescue of one member of the OTP by the other, willing to do anything it takes.

In LGM it's Aeryn willing to do anything (including offering anything (by implication herself)) to get Crais to help to rescue John. In WASS it's John selling his soul to Scorpius. And of course, the insanity in LGM is literal but in WASS it's because John derails utterly when Aeryn is in danger. Before I get to character interactions, I want to mention how much I love the set design for these eps. The gorgeous golds and deep reds, and misty greys?

Crichton has a huge self-sacrificial complex. When Scorpius offers to give back D'Argo's son in exchange for Crichton, he has no idea how effective a carrot he is dangling in front of John (and Scorpius never truly learns, does he, perhaps because he’s hampered by the fact that he’d sacrifice himself for nobody. He is hoping for D’Argo to turn John over, he’s not thinking Crichton would do it himself.)

It's Crichton's own private way of self-destructing. He is, in a lot of ways, walking with so much guilt (because he cannot reconcile what he had become with his inner moral compass of his upbringing) and in a way the only value he sees is as 'victim' to other. Part of the reason he latches on to Aeryn so desperately is because of that same sense of guilt and nullity. She is his one link to sanity: I love the scene in the depository where he is completely losing it and he grabs her and desperately kisses her, as if she is his long drink of water, as if doing so clears his head.

And he tries to tell her about his feelings but also about Scorpius, and he’s falling apart so hard and it’s painful to watch.

This is so Aeryn btw...and so John.

It’s actually a funny exchange that turns heartbreaking later on, as so many Farscape jokes tend to, when she really is ready to kill him later if that is the best outcome:

And even more horrifyingly, John actually ends up begging to be killed at the end of the three parter, something he was trying to avoid becoming the most he is hoping for and still beyond him:

https://dangermousie.tumblr.com/post/723680562432376832/still-sorting-through-my-million-caps-and-thoughts

I love how his love for Aeryn helps him navigate both trauma and insanity. In practical ways - like when he cannot coat Scorpius’ rods with explosives because the chip is fighting him, she does it for him but also in more intangible ways. Aeryn is the only one who is important enough to get through (of course when, as in DMD, even she finally cannot, that is when tragedy occurs). And that is true in later seasons, no matter how obsessed or catatonically destroyed he becomes (I am thinking of the end of PKW when it's Aeryn and his child who bring him out). Oh, and that scene when he desperately and incoherently wants to tell her how he feels. Because he can feel his inner self slipping and it feels as if it's almost the last chance. And she tells him he doesn't have to say it and his face where this is no comfort but a disappointment because he wanted to so badly.

And the end of that part 1, kills me...when he tells her, so quietly and stumblingly, sounding so incredibly vulnerable 'I meant what I said...didn't say' (and he’s not even trying to say what it is, he’s beyond that) and she says she knows and it’s gentle and he is actually at peace with that now because this time he can process that she really does know. And she pulls his head down and puts it on her shoulder (this is such a their thing, he did it to her earlier; and I can’t tell you how much I needed the scene have that moment of touch-comfort at that moment). He is this beautiful broken thing, so far from what he started as but for a brief moment at peace.

#farscape

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