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afewmarvelousthoughts · 3 years

Text

Falling Ch. 7

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader [and a few more to come]

Summary: For a moment you had something good, something wonderful. But moments pass. Now, left with nothing but the ashes of a life and a love you fought so hard for, you find yourself in a free fall. Who will you be once you hit the bottom? [Sequel to Only For A Moment but can be read independently.]

Warnings: Loss, grief, drug/alcohol abuse, violence

A/N: Hello again! So this is another shorter chapter but there is a lot happening. I think you can expect shorter chapters for the most part as we roll forward with this story (along the lines of the majority of Only For A Moment) because that’s easier for me to maintain.

There’s also some hints here about what we can expect from our reader in the future, lmk if you have thoughts!

TAGS ARE OPEN

“Oh for fucks sake!” Rocket yelled as your comm cut out. It was just as likely that you were dead as it was that you turned it off.

And if you weren’t dead he was tempted to fix that little problem.

“Nebula, do you have eyes on Trouble,” he found that was a better name for you.

“I’m a little busy!” She yells back.

He massages his temples as he tries to keep himself from outright screaming.

In moments like this, he actually misses the old you. At least when you spent your days in bed, drunk, silent, moving through the ship like some sad ghost he wasn’t worried you were going to get him killed.

He really should have appreciated those weeks of peace more. Never should have taken you to Contraxia, never should have coaxed you out of bed. What he should have done was leave well enough alone and just make sure you didn’t drink yourself into a quiet death.

But no. He just had to get involved.

Now, he was going to have to get out of this pod and find you. That was not the plan. He was supposed to stay in the damn pod. He was the eye in the sky.

But no. No, you had to go and make this complicated.

“I got it!” You say, comms coming in clear, just as he’s about to head down.

“What the fuck do you-”

“Did I stutter?” You huff, clearly running. “I got the payload and I’m heading to the drop point and-” Rocket can make out the sound of a large weapon behind you. “I’d really appreciate you being there right about now!”

“Neb-” He begins.

“En route,” she cuts him off.

He brings the pod down just as you and Nebula make it on the platform, behind you both a concerning amount of muscle in hot pursuit.

“What happened to quiet in and out?!” He screams.

“Just open the door rat!” Nebula yells. He notes that your arms were full of more than just the case you were all being paid to retrieve.

Between you and Nebula, he was pretty sure he was headed toward a much earlier grave. Grumbling he lays down cover fire as he lowers enough for you both to board the pod.

“Woo!” You exclaim as Rocket coaxes the pod as fast as it can go toward the Benetar. “Not too bad.”

“You realize you’re bleeding profusely, yes?” Nebula asks.

Rocket glances back. He’d assumed the blood on your face was from someone else. Now he can see a deep gash splitting the right side of your face from forehead to below your cheekbone.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Ca’al was aiming to take my head though, so I’d say I came out better than expected.”

“Can’t imagine why he’d want your head,” Rocket rolls his eyes as he docks the pod.

“It’s a mystery,” you say as the hatch opens.

“Wait…” Nebula says, hovering in the pod after the two of you have disembarked.

“Ergons take honor pretty seriously,” Rocket says. “Which is why ‘not fucking the mark’s wife’ is high on the list of things not to do when you’re trying to keep a job low key.”

“There was a list?” You quip, turning to face them, smiling despite the wound.

“I’m beginning to think all Terrans are like this,” Nebula says low to him.

“Possibly.” You drop the contents in your arms, kicking a case toward Rocket. “That’s what we came for. And I’ll split the rest if someone will help with this,” you gesture to your face.

“I’m tempted to let you bleed out,” Rocket says as he opens the case. Five tubes filled with glowing viscous liquid are nestled tightly inside.

“Gonna have to wait for a bigger wound for that,” you say as you have a seat.

“With your track record, Trouble, I don’t think I’ll have to wait long.”

You shrug, “I’m apparently like a cockroach.”

“What does that mean?” Nebula asks as she examines the cut.

“Very hard to get rid of,” you hiss the last word.

“Are they formidable beasts?”

“They’re Earth vermin,” Rocket says as he takes inventory of your haul. He hated to admit that it was impressive. Whatever your shortcomings, you were an exceptional thief--he had to respect that at least.

“Same thing,” you say standing. “I mean, look at you.”

“Very funny,” he smiles despite himself.

“This is likely going to scar,” Nebula says.

You shrug, “It’ll just enhance my roguish charm.”

“And piss off the Captain,” Rocket grumbles as he locks the case you’d all been paid to retrieve into one of the storage crates.

“So you admit I’m charming?” He throws a sideways glance at you as Nebula forces your smirking face back to her. “Ow!”

“Who said you were charming?” Rocket asks. “I just don’t want any lectures about ethics and safety from Cap.”

“Which, Cap?”

“Either.” He inspects a container of very high-grade ammo. “How’d you know where this shit was? No way it was just out in the open.”

You peek around an exasperated Nebula once more, “There are benefits to fucking the mark’s wife.”

“Stay still!” Nebula snaps. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose the eye.”

Rocket shakes his head. Lucky may be a better nickname than Trouble.

The way you managed to walk a razor edge, never quite tipping one way or the other was impressive. And every job you’d been in on over the last eight months ended up in a payday at least twice what they’d bargained for. Still, there was an all too familiar air of self-destruction about everything you did. Like you wanted something to tip you, slide the scales just a bit past no return.

When he looks back he notices the slightest tremor in your right hand.

Back on earth, he’d seen it a few times, mainly when emotions were high. No one else seemed to notice it, how each time the air rippled just a bit as some of your hold on that insane telekinetic ability of yours slipped.

These days, more often than not, it meant you needed a drink.

“There,” Nebula declares. “That’s the best I can do.”

When she stepped back he could see that Nebula’s best was actually pretty good. The gash had been reduced to a raised bright pink stripe bisecting your left brow, stopping in the middle of your cheek.

“Thanks, Nebula,” you say sincerely. A whir comes from the main cabin as a bottle flies into your open right hand.

“So, how much we got?” You ask as you open the bottle.

“Can probably get 4,000 credits from the ammo alone,” he holds out his hand and you pass him the bottle. No reason he can’t benefit from your vices.

“Hear that, Nebula? At least 2k each for the ammo.”

“Excuse me?” He passes the bottle back to you.

“Did you help fix my face?”

“My ship. I get a cut of everything, Trouble.”

“I only helped because I was getting half,” Nebula manages something between a grimace and a smile.

Rocket playfully rolls his eyes, “Then you can take her half.”

“The disrespect,” you say on a sigh. “Bleed for your crew, then they cut you out.”

“Yeah, yeah. Such a martyr,” he says over his shoulder as he heads toward the deck. “We’ll get the best deal on Paramatar. We’ll get paid for the case then head there.”

Paramatar was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

The money was too good and the distractions too plentiful. Not Contraxia levels of plentiful, but what it lacked in variety it made up for in cost. Everything save for information and ammo was cheap.

He should have kept an eye on you. Or at least asked Nebula to since she couldn’t help but stay sober.

Yes, luck seemed to favor you more times than not. You were also heartier then most humans from what he could tell and you’d picked up on how things worked out here quickly. Still, there were substances and situations you didn’t know were better left alone.

Or maybe you did know and chose to ignore sense.

Who could say? Because when Nebula found you half dead after two days there wasn’t anyone around who knew what happened.

“We should take her home,” Nebula said after the medic left with assurances that you weren’t about to die. “They can help.”

He doubted that. Still, he knew it was the best call. Plus, he could use some peace.

Warm morning sun filtered in through the window, making the few silvery strands in Bucky’s hair shine.

He sat between your legs on the living room floor with his back against the couch. As your fingers combed through the silky mass of hair, his fingers massaged your right calf, still sore from Okoye’s brutal training the day before.

This had become your ritual most mornings.

Usually Bucky was the first out of bed, proving that he was far more a morning person than you’d ever manage to become. He’d start coffee, put on some music, and slip back into bed to wake you before your alarm went off.

It was the best way to begin your day.

Once up you’d down a cup of coffee, talk about nothing, then by cup two he’d be sitting just as he was now--humming along to whatever song played while you methodically sectioned off his hair to braid it back.

The first morning you’d done it on a whim. You frequently found your fingers tangled in those beautiful dark locks and had just happened to put it in a french braid.

That evening he’d casually mentioned how good it was to not have his hair in the face while he worked.

You knew he’d never actually ask. He was constantly concerned he would somehow inconvenience you or be a burden as it was. So since then you’d just begun doing it, without coaxing or preamble.

When you finished he let out a long content sigh, leaning his cheek against your bare thigh.

“Thank you,” he placed a kiss on your knee.

“Of course,” you leaned over, kissing the tender flesh just behind his ear. He hummed with satisfaction, turning his head to look up at you. The morning light turned his eyes a beautiful icy grey-blue.

“I love you, doll,” he says, eyes crinkling as he smiles.

“I love-” you hiss in a breath as pain tears through your skull.

He doesn’t react, doesn’t move, just sits between your legs smiling… Before he turns to dust.

You try to call his name, scream, anything but the all-consuming thrum of your power prevents you from doing anything but sit in frozen agony.

Like an angry beast it thrashes inside your skull, zinging down your spine, until every nerve ending in your body burns with it.

Stop, you don’t know to whom or what you’re begging but it’s all you can manage.

The edges of your vision begin to blur, your warm Wakandan living room fading to an endless swirl of colors and shapes before shadow crept in. Those shadows swelled consuming everything leaving you in an endless, familiar, void.

By now, this place--realm, or whatever it was that your mind saw when your perception went beyond what you were capable of comprehending--was starting to feel familiar. When you last found yourself here, after a night of too much excess, you’d thought of it as The Nothing.

This time a different thought pushes its way in from somewhere in the abyss.

Oblivion, it whispers.

Yes. That felt right. The perfect word for this void that seemed to exist between all things.

Absently, you wonder if you should feel fear rather than this strange sense of peace. Even the hunger that never left you, the howling need for power the stones planted in the marrow of your bones seemed sated, as though there was power enough hidden in the darkness.

Yes, that same whisper from nowhere and everywhere replies.

Now, the fear comes. You will yourself back, forcing your mind to grasp for existence like a drowning man reaches for the surface.

You shoot upright, gasping for air, squinting in the bright afternoon sun.

Sun shone bright on your face.

This was not your dim room on the Benatar.

And…

“About time,” Steve says groggily from a chair in the corner.

“How?” You croak.

He stands, stretching, and crosses the room to fill a glass of water from the decanter by your bed. You take it gratefully, though you feel the ache for something stronger.

“Rocket and Nebula brought you back yesterday.”

Yesterday.

Futility, you try to piece together a series of events.

The three of you had landed on Paramatar, offloaded the haul, split the credits, and… Things got hazy after that.

“Apparently, you’ve been unconscious for over three days,” he sat on the edge of the bed, looking you over. “You look like shit by the way.”

“Thanks,” you say, voice still rough. “You don’t look dewey either.” His hair had grown longer, his beard thick, the circles under his eyes spoke to too many sleepless nights.

“Shocked you remember what I look like,” he snips.

The shot hits its mark and guilt blooms in your chest.

It had been at least 5 months since you’d spoken to him. Once you’d managed to make it back to something closer to a human you simply couldn’t stand the reminder that speaking to him brought, that you had to come back here eventually. You’d wanted to leave everything. Forget about everything you could manage to and become someone else.

“Sorry,” you say, unable to look at him.

“It’s ok,” his voice sounds distant. When you look at him his gaze is in the middle distance, elbows resting on his knees. “Maybe we all need space.”

He sighs, “Clint left. We don’t know where he is.”

“Natasha?”

“She’s hanging on. Tried to find him but didn’t have any luck.”

“He’ll come back around,” you said with more conviction than you felt.

“Yeah,” he plucks a non-existent piece of lint from his sweatpants.

“I gotta head out soon, some kind of situation brewing in Brazil. Don’t know how long it’ll be,” he runs a hand over his face. “But I assume Rocket and Nebula won’t be hanging around too much longer since you’re up.”

So they had stuck around. More guilt bubbles up.

“And I assume you’ll be going with them.”

It isn’t a question but you answer anyway, “Yeah.” He nods, looking down at his hands.

The silence hangs for several pregnant minutes.

Your palms itch to reach out to him, your heart screams at you to say something, anything. But you just sit.

“Y/N…” his voice almost makes you jump. “On the beach when we…” He clears his throat, “You told me I could go… If I needed to.”

Your stomach drops and with it some of your control.

You had said that. Told Steve that if he was too tired to keep fighting in this life that he had your blessing to leave. Your only request-

“But that I couldn’t go without saying goodbye.”

“Steve,” your voice trembles.

He looks at you then, blue eyes unfathomably sad. Without hesitation you reach out for his hand. Gratitude floods you when he doesn’t pull away.

“The same goes for you,” beneath his words is a barely contained flood of emotions.

“This wasn’t-”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head. Gently he touches the new scar by your eye.

You nod. This was one thing you knew you couldn’t hide from him no matter how hard you tried. It was a game he’d played for longer than you’d been alive. Tempting fate, daring it to kill him.

“Not without goodbye,” he says in almost a whisper.

“Not without goodbye,” you promise and, begrudgingly, you mean it.

He gives your hand a squeeze before he stands, places a kiss on top of your head, and turns to leave.

“Oh and, Y/N…”

“Yeah?”

“Take a shower,” he turns and winks.

“Fuck you, Rogers,” you smile despite everything.

“Don’t die,” he says as he walks out.

“You too.”

With effort you drag your aching body from the bed and make your way to the bathroom. Under the bright light you groan.

Steve had not been wrong. You did look like shit.

The scar Ca’al had graced you with was still bright pink and puffy. Far from roguish or charming. Your cheek bones jutted out in sharp angles, lips pale and cracked. And your hair had grown long enough that the ends had started to curl, making you look like a tired crusty mop.

Only after a minute do you even notice your eyes. They’d become a normal feature, whites shot through with bloody lightning cracks, the tear ducts an angry shade of red.

As you observe yourself the mirror begins to tremble.

“Fuck,” you groan, doubling over to press your forehead to the cool bathroom counter.

Once you feel your control tighten just enough you head straight for your bag, praying that-

Your fingers curl around a small smooth rectangular bottle and you let out a grateful breath. Rocket must have slipped it in. The Ciegrimitian liquor was strong, a touch bitter, and reminded you of roses. It was a favorite.

After two swallows you feel the power inside you settle.

You stare at the slightly iridescent golden pink liquid in the bottle shifting it so it swirls and catches the light.

Maybe it was possible that you could re-learn to control your abilities, after all, you had gotten far more proficient through training with Bucky and later in Wakanda. But that was before the stones.

If Shuri had been right, and she usually had been, your subconscious built barriers around your ability to protect you. While you could push those barriers by honing your ability, strengthening it like any muscle through time and focus, those barriers would and should always remain. The human mind could only be expected to process so much.

Now, if you were right, those barriers were gone. You had no idea how to begin rebuilding them. If you did you weren’t sure you had the energy to care.

Maybe in time…

Time. Weeks. Months. Years. All without Bucky.

You’d rather lose yourself to that Oblivion than think about the stretch of life laid out before you.

As you lift the bottle to take another drink your fist closes on nothing. A few remaining inches of the bottom of the bottle clatter to the floor, spilling the contents.

This wasn’t new, sometimes you lost your grip and your power… unmade something. This time though-

A cry lodges itself in your throat, threatening to choke you.

Around the edges of the piece on the floor and swirling in your hand between the glittering specks of dust--all that remains of the top of the bottle--is a deep undulating blackness. Not shadow, not darkness, a pure absence of everything.

Oblivion, a whisper from somewhere far away calls in your mind.

You bolt for the bathroom, slamming the door behind you, pressing your fist to your mouth to keep from screaming.

It feels like hours before your heart stops trying to beat through your chest and you’re able to draw a full breath. Only then do you realize that, just like in that void, you don’t feel the hunger. Only then do you realize how silent your power is.

The woman in the mirror stares at you with eyes that are less painfully bloodshot than before, the bruise-like hollows beneath them lighter. Her cheeks seem fractionally fuller.

The changes do not feel like an improvement. They feel like abomination.

Demon. Maybe your mother’s husband and M’Baku had been on to something there.

In the shower you decide to bury this. It was a fluke, or maybe even a hallucination. Maybe you were still recovering from the overdose, your body reacting poorly to another substance being put into it. That was it.

“And she lives to make trouble another day!” Rocket calls out from in front of the TV as you make your way to the kitchen in the common area.

“Much to your chagrin,” you say, opening a cabinet.

“Coffee is in the one on the left,” Natasha pipes up. She takes a seat at the island. “I’ll take some too,” her wan smile doesn’t reach her own tired eyes.

You open the can of Bustelo and breathe in the rich smell. It reminds you of better times--of bodega breakfasts before you knew there was such a thing as Hydra, of slow music-filled afternoons with Bucky. Quickly you blink away the tears threatening to fall.

It was just coffee.

For several minutes the only sound was the burble of the coffee pot and the drone of the flatscreen. The lack of conversation didn’t feel awkward so much as tired, everyone worn down by the grief and turmoil of the last 11 months.

When the coffee was done you poured Natasha a cup, grabbing the half and half from the fridge, remembering her preference from when you’d been on the run with the fractured Avengers. She nodded her thanks, silently fixing her cup.

Your own black brew sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine, a hum of satisfaction slipping free.

“I mean it’s good but I don’t know if it’s that good,” Natasha teases.

“Haven’t had coffee since I left,” you say savoring another sip. Her brows raise at that. Honestly, the fact that you’d hardly missed it was more concerning than your increased drinking habit.

“Maybe we should bring some,” Rocket sniffs the air. “Smells nice.”

You meet his gaze, relief flooding you. A part of you had been afraid that you wouldn’t be welcome back on the Benatar. Honestly, you wouldn’t have blamed them if that was the case. Rocket called you Trouble for a reason after all.

“I will try it,” Nebula announces as she takes a seat beside Natasha.

“Alright. You?” Rocket nods.

You pour a small amount for Nebula and use an espresso cup for Rocket.

Nebula downs her’s in one go, face crinkling. You can’t help but laugh.

“Bitter but palatable,” she says.

“Just like you,” you quip.

Nebula almost smiles, “Is there more?”

The next few hours feel almost normal. No one talked about grief or loss. Natasha complained about the foods that were in short supply, Rocket bitched about prices on contraband being low. You told Natasha the weirder things about space, funny things, like hurling when the ship lost gravity for a few hours. Just friends catching up over coffee.

Except it wasn’t. And, by the end, that fact had left a bitter taste in your mouth.

By the time you got on the Benatar the next afternoon, that bitterness had fermented into rage that no amount of drink was going to cool.

You needed to hit something. Hard.

TAGS

@bluegirlusa1 @l0kisbitch @tazzi-baby @woodyandbuzz20-01 @mooniightbucky @saundrasays @breezy1415 @alyssaj23 @mywinterwolf @wonderlandmind4 @anamcg317 @buckaroo-barnes @jazztherebel @peachthatdrinkslemonade @regulusirius @auskitty @babyimp1967 @katecolleen @handplucked @darkdragonphoenix @issanitydead @thestorydetective @buckysstar @greyeyedsmile14 @watchoutforfrostbite @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2 @jdoenson @gamorazenn @wildmoonflower @cutie1365 @demonlover87 @winterboobearsworld @this-kitten-is-smitten @amorluzymelodia @nutellakirb @nighttwingg @coffeebeforewater @shesalatesh @maniacproffesor

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #Steve Rogers #post infinity war #marvel fic

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storysims · 4 years

Photo

DISCOVER UNIVERSITY - CAS REVIEW 📚📝

Did anyone else see videos from Sims Camp exclaiming that this was literally the best create-a-sim EVER? I definitely saw a few float across my YouTube homepage, and was kind of like... Sure Jan. We’ll see about that.

They weren’t entirely wrong... It’s pretty damn good y’all. There’s still some definite flaws, but major props to the sims team for a seriously awesome bunch of new content. 👏

I was provided with an early access copy of Discover University to review via the EA Game Changers program!

I actually had to stop myself while writing this and close photoshop, because I took ENTIRELY too many pictures. (Over 100, if you must know). Without my self control, we’d be here all day while I showed off my favorites from every angle and yelled in all caps about textures.

So, obviously, I’m not going to show everything. It’s better this way, I swear. 😂

I know a lot of people were really excited about the hair in this pack. And I like it! It wasn’t life changing for me, by any means. But there’s some awesome hairs in here that I’ll definitely get a lot of use out of.

Nothing was too stylized, so it’s all great for the everyday, average sim to wear.

I swear to god, EA hired a CC creator. Fess up, whoever you are. I know you’re out there. I’M ONTO YOU.

So many items, especially in female CAS, look like they were created by the community. And I mean that in the best way possible. It all looks... Cool. Which, sorry, is just not EA’s usual style, bless their hearts.

I’m always looking to cut down on how much CC I need in my game, and this pack alone took easily half of my content out.

This is university, so obviously we’re going to get some branded swag. I’m a giant sucker for stuff like this, so it’s right up my alley. GO FOXBURY! 🦞

The best part though is that all of these have plain swatches. Don’t want to rep your school? No problem! There’s solids for the poor losers who go to Britechester and are afraid to show it.

Guys, as usual, seem to get the short end of the stick. Sure, they can look cute in their little cardigan and blazer, but as @wildlyminiaturesandwich said - “how is my poor male sim supposed to rep his uni while he's out for a morning jog?“

Apparently, he’s just not.

It’s worth noting that there are some clothes that have a color scheme clearly inspired by the two universities, but inspiration doesn’t make for a perfect match.

Someone at EA heard we needed jeans, and my god did they deliver.

They managed to give us 4 new pairs of jeans for the ladies (and another 2 for men, but they actually fit the female frame!), that are all different. Even down to the pockets, texture, and detailing - they’re all unique.

We’ve gotten a lot of jeans that have the same mesh with a new texture on top, and these are definitely not that. It honestly might be my favorite part of CAS. Finally, some variety in the denim department!

Sorry, but I hate the new piercings. I hate them so much. Outside of looking at them when I first loaded into CAS, I’ve refused to touch them. The thought of putting them on a sim to take pretty review pictures was... Not great. Hence the ugly CAS screen of poor Lilith above.

Not only was there a serious missed opportunity to give us a wider variety of maybe more popular piercings (ex: septum, nose ring, etc), the nose studs are glitchy as hell.

Unless your sim has a perfectly formed little CAS preset nose, they’re going to have a lovely metal SPIKE sticking out of their piercing. I feel like this gets said every pack, but who was responsible for QA testing these? They failed.

And to all of my fellow piercing wearers out there, I pose the question - do you take your nose ring out when you sleep? Work out? Go outside in hot or cold weather? That’s right - the wearability tags on these are freaking bonkers.

You can, of course, adjust the filters so all the piercings show up all the time. But good grief, it’s just annoying and unnecessary.

Total CAS items in Discover University:

four male hairs, seven female, and two unisex

five hats and eight piercings

two school themed facepaint options

fourteen tattoos - at the wrist, arms, ankles, and back of neck

eighteen female tops, seventeen for males

ten female bottoms, three male, seven unisex

eleven full body outfits for females, one for males, two unisex

I feel like it goes without saying, but there’s no new content for toddlers or children in this pack.

I’m personally okay with that - like it or not, this pack isn’t about them. But I’d sure as hell love an education revamp for the little ones, EA. Please and thank you.

While I’d never recommend buying a pack, especially an EP, purely for the CAS items... This is the closest I’d ever come to saying it.

tldr; this pack’s CAS is a major win from me. 👏

#the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 discover university #eagamechangers #review

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jeynewesterling · 7 years

Text

Who rescued who? 2/2

Part One

AO3

Two weeks later, Sansa decided to swing by Jon’s house to check on how Ghost was doing. Or how Jon was doing. He’d been texting her frequently with all kinds of questions. What dog food do I get? Online said the first ingredient has to be meat. He’s eating grass, is that ok? It was cute, in a way, how seriously Jon was taking his newfound responsibility.

So Sansa went to the pet store to build a little giftpack for the new dog owner. It was too easy to get carried away, she picked out a variety of chew toys and dog biscuits, even printing up a dog tag to add to Ghost’s collar with Jon’s information on it. Should Ghost ever get lost again, he’d be able to come right back home, no problem. Sansa fluffed up the colored tissue paper swaddled around the toys before knocking on Jon’s door. She smiled when she heard Ghost’s protective little barks and Jon muttering “Back, Ghost, back!” before opening the door, his leg wedged in the opening as a furry white form tried to bolt outside.

The scowl on his face softened when he saw who was at the door. “Oh, hey Sansa. What’s up?”

“I wanted to see how you two were getting along. Is this a bad time?”

He hesitated a moment before saying, “No, now’s great. Come on in.” He managed to maneuver Ghost away from the door just long enough for Sansa to slide into the hall. She kicked off her shoes and bent down to scratch Ghost’s soft little ears. He affectionately nipped at her hand before flopping onto his back, exposing himself for belly rubs. Sansa gladly obliged him.

When Sansa glanced up at Jon, that frown had returned, that little crease between his brows that would become permanent if he wasn’t careful. “Are you sure everything’s ok?”

Jon’s face shifted to a more neutral expression. “Yeah, it’s just… –You’re so good with animals, y’know?”

Sansa laughed as she pulled a wriggling Ghost up in her arms, he already weighed more than he did two weeks ago, standing up so she could talk to Jon face to face, not face to shin. “It’s literally my job to be good with animals.”

“Ygritte hates him,” Jon confessed, reaching between them to stroke Ghost’s back. “She just stormed out of here ‘cuz he chewed up her shoe.”

“He’s a puppy!” Sansa said indignantly. “He’s still learning better. She needs to have some patience with him.”

“I think she was actually madder at me. I told her she couldn’t yell at Ghost, because you told me that the negative reinforcement stuff doesn’t actually work, and she started yelling at me instead, saying I was taking his side and knew nothing if I really believed animals had emotions like that, and I don’t know, it all kind of spiraled.” Jon sighed heavily, shoulders slumped and a kicked puppy look that could’ve given Ghost a run for his money. “She didn’t think I should’ve rescued him, she wanted me to leave him where I found him.”

Sansa hated that Ygritte made Jon look so miserable. She always picked the stupidest fights and for some reason, it was always up to Jon to apologize. It just wasn’t fair. “She’s the one who doesn’t know anything. If she spent any time with animals, she’d—” She managed to stop herself from getting too carried away. She knew she was hardly unbiased, but really, how could some people not like animals?

Jon tried to brush it off, his nobly stupid habit of devaluing his own feelings for the sake of other people. “It’s not a big deal. I’m sure she’ll come around once he’s better trained. We started obedience classes a couple days ago.”

“But she might not.” Sansa apparently lost her filter because even though she knew how stupid it was to get involved in his relationship, she couldn’t seem to shut herself up. “Animals are intuitive, they can sense negativity.” Jon was about to tell her she was being ridiculous but she pushed on. “It’s possible that maybe Ghost knows that Ygritte doesn’t like him and he doesn’t like her in return.”

If anything, Jon looked more anguished than before, which was not Sansa’s intention at all. “So you’re saying I have to choose between my girlfriend and my dog?”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s only… don’t expect his attitude to change if hers doesn’t. Or maybe I’m wrong,” Sansa backpedaled, not wanting to make him any more miserable than he obviously already is. “Maybe he does just need obedience school.”

Jon grumbled an incoherent response, which Sansa understood as an end to that conversation so she changed the subject. “Has Ghost been chewing a lot?”

“A bit, yeah. Mostly sticks in the yard, sometimes the table legs. Ygritte’s were the one shoes he’s eaten though.”

“Hmm.” Sansa stuck a finger in Ghost’s mouth and poked around his teeth. “I think he might be losing his puppy teeth. That always makes dogs chew.”

“That’s not a thing, is it?” Jon asked in disbelief. “Like little kids lose their teeth?”

“Exactly like that. Except there’s no tooth fairy for dogs. Which reminds me,” Sansa set Ghost on the floor and lifted up her gift basket. “I got you something. Or, I got Ghost some things.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jon said, but that didn’t stop him from digging through the tissue paper to the goodies inside. “You really didn’t have to do this.” There were a dozen toys of different varieties. Sansa didn’t know his preferences yet, so she got Ghost a little of everything. A little stuffed moose, a red rubber bone, a braided rope if he turned out to be a tugger, and of course everything squeaked. As if he knew the package was for him, Ghost stood on his hind legs, bracing himself against Jon’s leg as he tried to inspect the basket. “Ok, boy, let’s see what Sansa got you.” Jon sat cross-legged on the floor and Ghost immediately crawled into his lap to get a better view of his spoils.

Sansa took a seat beside them, pulling out the toys one by one and explaining her choices. Before she could finish, Ghost must have decided which one he liked best because he dove after the moose and scurried across the room. He whipped his head back and forth, tossing the toy around just to chase after it again. If it even looked like Sansa or Jon moved to take it from him, Ghost growled and ran another lap around the sofa.

Sansa and Jon sat side by side watching Ghost play, occasionally throwing the moose to the opposite end of the room whenever they managed to snatch the slimy thing from his maw. “He really is the cutest.”

“Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Stark?”

“Absolutely.” Sansa pulled the basket towards her. “You missed the most important present.”

“There’s more?”

“Just one more,” she said and passed him the little silver, bone-shaped dog tag, already engraved with Ghost’s name and Jon’s phone number. “So he doesn’t get lost again.”

“Sansa…” This more than anything seemed to choke Jon up. Sansa pretended not to notice when he dabbed at his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “The flyers, he still might have another home, someone might be looking for him. He’s not mine.”

“Yes, he is.” She put her hand over his, curling their entwined fingers around the license. “You’re the one who saved his life when every other car on that road couldn’t be bothered to stop. You brought him to me because you wanted to make sure he got the best care instead of just dumping him at the pound. You wouldn’t even leave him alone when I was examining him because you didn’t want him to think you were leaving him. Jon, he’s yours.”

As if to emphasize her point, it was at this moment that Ghost wandered back over to them to inspect what was held in their joined hands. He nosed at their knuckles until Jon opened his palm, showing Ghost his tag. “What do you say, boy? Think you want to stick around with me?”

Ghost sat back on his haunches, chin raised just so, inviting Jon to affix the tag to his collar. “I guess that makes it official.”

#jon & ghost #jonsa #jon x sansa #puppyfic #who rescued who

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valerie · 7 years

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Listworthy: Simon Kassianides (@simonkass / #SimonKassianides)

Name: Simon Kassianides DOB: 7 August 1979 Height: (taller than me!) Degree of separation: 2 (Tom Hardy=>Marina Sirtis=>me!) My list or yours: mine First sighting: probably Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. First meeting: Alas, has not yet happened

Why oh why another Listworthy? You would think that having one “Beyond Listworthy” would mean he was the last. But you would be wrong, so very very wrong. My fangirl heart is quite an open thing, ready to spread that love to the next one.

I’ve apparently been following Simon for some time on Instagram but I have no idea when it happened or why it happened. I just know that I’d see his pictures now and again and think, “Yeah, nice looking guy.” It’s a little maddening not knowing when he caught my eye. Who was the one who led me to him? Did I see him on a show and think, Hmmm, he looks interesting? It’s an utter mystery. Maybe I’ll figure it out but so far, I’m coming up empty.

I do know when the adoration suddenly turned on with me– late December 2016. Simon was in Greece and doing those Instagram stories. I’d see his face next to mine and click and see pictures of him out and about and I would envy him a bit because Greece has always been on my list of places to visit “someday.” So I watched his Instagram stories and sighed over the different sights. “Someday.” And yes, sometimes he slipped in a selfie just to remind us all whose story we were watching. In the midst of all this Instagram story watching, Simon posted a picture of himself from a photo shoot and it sparked something in me I could not deny.

It was just him, looking out at a view, shirt and jacket on but unbuttoned so that we have our own view of part of his chest and stomach. Romance novel cover work right there and my mind went that way because that’s how my mind works. A story started in my head and Simon was the man in it. I never scoff at inspiration so I went with it even though I was actually working on another story. And of course writing about a man who looks like Simon made me do a little research on the man.

For me, research on an actor entails watching his work. I started with the second season of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. We had stopped watching several episodes into the second season so when I started, I was re-watching. And I remembered many details of the episodes but not Simon. How did I totally and utterly miss him the first time watching these episodes? What was I thinking? Or not thinking? How the hell did I not notice him?

I wanted to take it slow (I’m still taking it slow) and I just finished his episodes of the second season of AoS. I have watched Desert Dancer (small part for Simon but such a good movie!), an episode of Zoo (the French accent threw me off), skipped to his parts on How to Get Away with Murder as well as Nikita (the Spanish accent was DELICIOUS) and Covert Affairs (love the dapper first scene). My favorite thing to watch is his short, Trust No One. It’s ten minutes or so of action packed intrigue and it ROCKS. I hope it gets made into something longer because I want to know MORE. I always want more. And the short really deserves to be expanded into something even more awesome, especially if it features more Simon.

Research also entails following on social media and keeping an eye out on articles and interviews. Simon updates somewhat regularly on both twitter and instagram. As my regard increased, I started tagging him in my tweets and somewhat randomly he would like or even retweet. I have gotten into the habit of posting screenshots (filtered and otherwise touched up) from his various works and those are usually the ones that have gotten the likes or retweets. I try not to tweet AT him too often because I don’t to seem like a total nutter especially since he seems to actually sometimes read tweets directed at him. So a reply from him is a special kind of thrill and I’ve been lucky a couple of times. I guess I’m doing a decent job of not being too crazy.

Onward to the criteria!

TALENT I don’t know that he’s made me cry yet but Simon has managed to elicit all the other reactions from me with his work. I probably shouldn’t have liked Bakshi (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.) as much as I did but he played him with just enough dapper snark without being smarmy. I knew his time was ending and it still made me sad but the character got what he deserved, I suppose. Besides his natural accent, I really liked his Spanish one, which is really weird because it’s not usually an accent I like. I wasn’t too keen on the French one (just in general) but his American accent will do. He’s played an array of different characters and I look forward to delving into more of his work. He does not disappoint. If you want the whole tour de force (writer, director, actor), check out his short Trust No One. I promise, you will be impressed.

EDUCATION All right, a man who goes to college and actually gets his degree is TOPS with me. Simon has a degree in International Business and a Masters in Finance. How did this man become an actor?! Well, we are all the better for it and I’m sure his educational background has helped him in his current field.

KINDNESS Simon has been very kind to me with the random replies and likes on twitter and instagram. I like to think that I’m being mostly proper in my mentions of him and he is taking it in kind. One of the reason I don’t choose more “mainstream” fellas for my List is that sometimes their actions are put to greater scrutiny. Simon isn’t followed around by paparazzi and studied in minutiae so he can do he pleases and he can control his image. So far, he does a lovely job of it and although I don’t hunt for information on him (yet?), what I’ve read so far has been quite pleasing. And as I said, he’s only been lovely to me in our scant interactions.

SPORTS Here’s one that stumps me. I have no idea if Simon likes any sports, played any sports, hates sports. In the time that I’ve been paying attention to him, he hasn’t mentioned any games or attended any sporting events. It could be that I haven’t been paying much attention or his favorite sports haven’t been in season. Just as I don’t know when I started with him so to am I clueless on his stance on sports.

LOOKS Darkly handsome, dark eyes, great fit in suits– really, what more could you want? (Okay, maybe a little down and dirty but I’m sure Simon could rock that too.) If there’s a trace of boyishness, it’s merely that, a trace. My recent Listworthy fellas have had more than a trace of boyishness so there’s something a bit exciting about a man who is undoubtedly a MAN and not a boy. Maybe it’s my age but there’s something infinitely appealing about a man who can wear a suit and look good in it. Simon is perfect romance novel fodder with his looks and the different accents he’s done certainly helps in the daydreaming.

LAST THOUGHTS Simon Kassianides represents mystery to me and I just love that about him. His work has shown him to be passionate and talented and I am sucked in by him each time he’s on screen. It seriously boggles my mind that I cannot trace to the beginning of my regard for him. How or why did I start following him?! It’s maddening and exciting at the same time. It’s as if a part of me knew I’d fall for him at some point and it became a waiting game. I do like when that happens. I don’t mind when the Listworthy sneak up on me.

What would I say to Simon if I ever met him? Hmmm, I’d do what I do online and hopefully be respectful and politely adoring while trying to be adorable. I would say how I’m looking forward to his future work and how I appreciate the random likes on the socials. I’d apologize for not noticing him the first time around on Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Then I’d ask for a hug and picture (or a hugging picture?), give him a kiss on the cheek, and go along my merry way. I’d be totally satisfied with that.

Believe me?

I have this feeling that my regard for Simon Kassianides is of the long haul variety. How do I know? As I mentioned, he’s quite ideal as romance novel fodder and what do I do in my spare time besides tweet and instagram to my lovelies? I write romance novels! (It’s turned into a compulsion and it doesn’t even matter that no one has really read them yet.) Simon has already appeared in two of my recent stories. Seriously, how many times can I use Sullivan Stapleton, Henry Cavill, and Philip Winchester as the fellas in my stories? (Lots of times, in case you’re wondering.) So it’s nice to have a new fella. Keeps me young at heart.

So Simon, if you actually read this (or someone you know reads this), I’ve been having a grand time checking out your work so far and I’m quite sure you’re going to be the reason I watch shows/movies I’d not otherwise pay any mind. I hope we meet some day because it’s always my dream to meet my fellas. Thank you for the bits of attention online, I do appreciate the random sunshine. I am looking forward to what’s next for you. And if you follow me on twitter or facebook, I’ll be eternally gobsmacked. Even if you don’t, I’ll still keep my eye on you.

Ever with love…

Simon Kassianides can be found at:

simonkassianides.com http://twitter.com/simonkass http://ift.tt/2osl6Z0

Professional photos belong to their respective owners Some photos found on Simon’s instagram Screenshots by me

from Listworthy: Simon Kassianides (@simonkass / #SimonKassianides)

#Listworthy: Simon Kassianides (@simonkass / SimonKassianides)

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