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aidansplaguewind · 1 year

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The First Kiss

I decided to post this because we've all been missing a bit of creepyshipping. It was going to be the beginning of something I wrote forever ago and was going to progress as Sansa aged. It's not finished in that sense and I can't guarantee that I will finish it but you can read this as a stand alone.

And I've stated before and I'll state it again, my Petyr has blue eyes (not green) because we aren't picturing book Petyr. We're picturing Aidan’s Petyr and I can't see him with green eyes.

Warnings: Underage, grooming

The First Kiss

The first kiss was hardly a kiss at all. Not a real kiss, with sucking and nibbling and tongues. No, the first kiss was much more innocent than that or so he would have led her to believe.

Sansa had been forced to attend her dreadful aunt Lysa’s birthday party and being the perfect child that she was, would not dare challenge her parents on such a matter (or any matter). Wearing the dress her mother had instructed her to, she had greeted her aunt with all the feigned enthusiasm she could muster and resigned herself to an evening of boredom and avoiding her cousin, Robin, as much as was possible.

Lysa’s one and only son was a scrawny, spoiled child whose every word sounded like a whine. On that particular evening, he had gathered together all the younger children in attendance - Sansa’s younger sister and two younger brothers included - and coerced them into a game that he called The King’s Service. A made-up game where he, of course, was the King, and the other children were his subjects that had to do various tasks to prove their loyalty.

At thirteen-years-old, Sansa regarded herself as too mature for such childishness - and frankly knew it was a ploy to make the children do Robin’s bidding - so she snuck out of the parlor to seek refuge from her cousin and the boring adults that were already well into their cups. She retreated up the stairs and into the library, the only place in her aunt’s house that she enjoyed. She had concluded that no one would likely be interested in books when wine was flowing so freely downstairs.

It was a large room with bookshelves lining all four walls, as well as a few rows of shelves in the center of the room, making it almost like a real library, only smaller. All the shelves were crowded with books upon books and even more books. Sansa often wondered why her aunt had bothered with such a place for she had no knowledge of the woman ever reading. For Sansa, on the other hand, libraries and the books that filled them were a place of wonder and excitement. In books she could be anyone, go anywhere, and do anything that she dared to imagine.

She walked slowly down the rows, running her fingers along the book’s spines, and stopped when she spied a copy of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. She took it from the shelf, opened it, and flitted through the pages, allowing the smell of the old paper to waft up to her nose.

“It’s a first edition you know.”

Sansa jumped, startled, dropping the book in her hands. As she knelt to pick it up, she heard quick footsteps coming toward her across the hardwood floor. Just as her hand touched the book, another larger, masculine hand grabbed it from her.

“Sorry...Uncle Petyr,” she stammered, standing upright and looking up at her aunt’s husband. “You scared me.” She felt her cheeks burn with humility, knowing she was about to receive a reprimand for dropping the likely valuable antique in her uncle’s hands.

“It’s all right, sweetling. Accidents happen. Why aren’t you down at the party? Or playing with Robin and his minions?”

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I’m too old to play their games.”

“But not quite old enough for the games in the parlor? Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful expression in his eyes.

“I guess not. Why aren’t you at the party, Uncle Petyr?”

“I’m not much of a party person if I’m being honest. Nor do I find amusement in artificial conversation.”

He turned and walked back across the room, returning to the desk that Sansa hadn’t noticed when she had first entered and that he had likely been watching her from the entire time. Sansa followed him. “What do you mean, artificial?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” he answered, taking his seat.

She did know what he meant. Conversations that take place where you pretend to care about what the other party is saying. Pretend to find them funny when they tell a joke and release a forced, slightly exaggerated laugh. Pretend to like them. But she had never heard anyone admit to these things.

But Petyr Baelish wasn’t just anyone. Sansa had known the moment she had met her aunt’s new husband, that he wasn’t like any other person she had ever known. It wasn’t something he had said or even done, necessarily; it was a feeling. His sapphire blue eyes hid so much more than what appeared on the surface, a doting, husband and his new wife. Sansa could see that it was a façade but no one else around them seemed to notice. Only her. And when his eyes met hers, she swore that he was aware of her knowledge.

In truth, something about him made her feel uneasy and slightly uncomfortable but that same something made her all the more curious. Being near Petyr Baelish was quite like being too close to the edge of a steep cliff. One knew that it was dangerous but was powerless to fight the urge to step closer to that edge for just a tiny peek at how far down the fall would be; and possibly even more fascinating, what lay below?

“Would you like a drink, Sansa?” he asked, going into the desk drawer and taking out a bottle of dark brown liquid and two glasses that he sat atop the desk.

“I’m not allowed to drink alcohol.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

She thought this over for a moment, wondering if it was some sort of trick to get her into trouble. But her father would likely strangle him for giving it to her and so, she decided they were on an equal playing field. Plus, she couldn’t deny that she was curious, she had never tried alcohol before and longed to know why adults loved it so much and what about it made it too dangerous for kids to drink. It was exciting. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

Her stomach fluttered at his choice of words. It was a good feeling, but she didn’t fully understand it. Her father had sometimes referred to her as his girl, but it didn’t garner the same reaction.

Petyr filled each glass about a quarter of the way full and returned the bottle to its drawer. She waited for him to hand her a glass, but he did not. “Come here, sweetling.”

Her eyes darted to his, then down at the floor and her heart rate instantly sped up. At the moment, the desk separated them and even at that distance he made her feel strange. Now he was asking her to go around the desk and stand at his side.

“I won’t bite. I promise. Come along.” He smiled but his eyes did not.

Returning her eyes to the floor, she slowly made her way around the desk, stopping a couple of feet in front of him. He turned his chair to face her. “Come now, sweetling, I promised I wouldn’t bite but I’m afraid I don’t have another chair, so you’ll have to sit on my lap.”

Her heart rate accelerated instantly. Alarm bells were going off in the young girl’s head and a small voice in the back of her mind, a voice that sounded very much like her mother's, told her to turn around and leave the room. Warning her that if she did as he asked there would be no going back. A pact would be sealed. Leaving would be the right thing to do.

But Sansa Stark was so tired of doing the right thing.

She closed the distance between them and carefully placed herself upon his lap. One of his arms immediately wrapped around her back and his hand grabbed her hip, holding her in place. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

“There. Not so bad, is it?” She shook her head, eyes finally looking up into his own. He smiled and handed her one of the glasses. “Now try this.”

She took it with both hands and took a rather large gulp that she immediately regretted. The liquid tasted awful and burned like fire going down her throat. He chuckled, no doubt at the face she was making.

“Yuck. Why do people drink this stuff?”

“It gives some men courage.”

“Does it give you courage?”

He regarded her with watchful eyes, a twitch at the corner of his mouth his only reply.

That flutter in her stomach returned and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was sitting on her uncle’s lap in a dimly lit room. She had never been so close to another adult male’s body, except her father’s. Petyr’s scent filled her nostrils - mint and sandalwood - and it was almost intoxicating. Or perhaps it was the alcohol now burning in her stomach, she wasn’t sure.

He took the glass from her hands and placed it on the desk and the lack of it, although small it was, made her feel as though a barrier had been taken down between them. She placed her hands in her lap, fidgeting.

“You are an extraordinarily beautiful girl, Sansa. Do you have very many boys chasing you yet?”

She shook her head, unable to fight a smile at his praise.

“Are you blushing? I think that might make you even prettier. If that were possible.”

Sansa wasn’t sure what to say, not used to compliments from a man other than her father. But when her father gave her such praise it didn’t feel so sinful and everything about her current circumstances felt very much a sin, though technically Petyr had not done anything that would be considered wrong. At least she didn’t think so.

“I think you’re probably very smart too, aren’t you, Sansa?”

“I guess so.” She shrugged and met his eyes again, the look in them intensifying the warmth she had felt in her stomach since swallowing down the alcohol. She couldn’t read the expression there, due in part to her young age and inability to recognize such emotions yet, but she could sense the danger, nonetheless. Oddly enough, it gave her no notion to jump from his lap and leave.

Like all girls her age, Sansa had been warned of strange men since she was old enough to talk but Petyr Baelish wasn’t a stranger. With that being said, she knew that a man did not have to be a stranger to bring harm to a young girl. Not necessarily the type of harm that comes from violence but the type of harm that can come from a man with impure urges. On countless occasions Sansa’s mother had warned her away from any man that tried to touch her in inappropriate places and alluded to many other things of an adult nature that should never take place between a man and a child. Was Petyr one of those men?

“What on earth is going through that head of yours, little one?” he asked, snapping Sansa out of her thoughts and back into the present. Back into the room where she sat on her uncle’s lap and still tasted the bitter liquid of the alcohol on her tongue.

“Um...I don’t know." Her voice trembled at the thought that those penetrating eyes of his would be able to see into her own and know exactly what she had been thinking. If he could, he must have found it rather amusing because the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk.

“Are you comfortable?”

She only nodded. Then he took his right hand, the one that wasn’t wrapped around her waist, and placed it on her leg just above her knee. Her dress was long enough that it fell well past her knees but even through the fabric Sansa felt a sudden current from his touch that spread and rushed up through her entire body, a tingling warmth like nothing she had ever felt before.

“What about now?” Petyr asked.

“I’m alright,” she answered, at once regretting speaking because the shaking of her words would reveal her trepidation.

“Do I frighten you, sweetling?”

For a split second she thought to lie and blurt out a resounding “no”, but she stopped herself. For some reason she felt that she could be honest with him and not offend him in the slightest. In fact, she was almost positive. He didn’t strike her as the type of person who became easily offended. Or shocked or anything for that matter.

“Maybe a little,” she answered softly.

“Rightly so.”

For the most part, Sansa had kept her gaze fixed on her hands or anywhere but his face and eyes but when he uttered those words her head snapped up quickly to see what she would find there. He chuckled at her reaction, and she found only amusement in those sapphire eyes. Feeling her cheeks blush she looked back down at her hands. What was he laughing at, she wondered, feeling somewhat stupid suddenly?

“Are you mocking me?” she asked.

“No sweet girl, only teasing.” His voice sounded very apologetic which only seemed to make Sansa feel even more stupid for being so easily riled. “Fear isn’t always such an awful thing. Sometimes the things we are frightened of can be terribly exciting, wouldn’t you agree?”

Do I? She wasn't entirely sure, for she was only 13 years old and had yet to do very much living. Fear was a normal reaction to danger and Sansa wasn’t familiar with danger. She grew up in a wealthy, somewhat religious family that tried very hard to keep all of its children on the straight and narrow. Sansa, being the second oldest, and the oldest girl of the Stark children, already carried heavily the burden of responsibility that comes with setting a good example for one’s younger siblings. She was often the basis of comparison when her parents were scolding her younger and wilder sister, Arya. Why can’t you be more like Sansa? Sansa is always such a little lady. Sansa makes straight As and has never gotten into trouble at school.

But she remembered a few times when the idea of not being the perfect daughter had brought her quite a thrill. It was only a minor thing really and could hardly be considered dangerous in the true sense of the word, but on a few occasions, she had sneaked her cell phone after her parents were asleep and stayed up extremely late texting her friend Jeyne and cruising the internet. She had been terribly afraid of getting caught. The Stark children who were old enough to have cell phones, which was only her and her older brother Rob, had to turn their phones in to their parents every night before dinner. The rest of their evenings were devoted to homework, family time, and then showers. One night Sansa was absolutely dying to text Jeyne. Earlier in the day Jeyne had heard from another girl at their school that Joffrey Baratheon had told someone that he had a crush on Sansa. Joffrey was the richest, cutest, and most popular boy in school and Sansa was elated and overjoyed at the possibility that he might like her. She and her friend had talked about it at every opportunity possible all day long, but it wasn’t nearly enough, what with classes and schoolwork getting in the way. That night, Sansa left her room and pressed her ear to the door of her parent’s bedroom. When she was sure the only noise she could hear was her mother’s soft snoring, she slowly opened their door and crept quietly towards the dresser where she knew her parents kept the phones.

She remembered the insistent pounding of her heart and how all her senses seemed to be heightened in fear of getting caught. She remembered the rush she had gotten, a feeling that tingled and rippled through her entire body all the way down to her toes, when she made it out of their room and back into the hallway without being noticed. She had stayed up for quite a while, texting Jeyne, and giggling under her covers before returning the phone back to her parent’s dresser. The thrill and excitement returned the next morning at breakfast when, half expecting her parents to have noticed the phone slightly out of place, she realized that they had no clue as to what she had done the night before. That their perfect, well-behaved daughter who always followed the rules, had broken several the night before.

“I think you do agree,” Petyr said. “I know you’re a very good girl, Sansa, but I think that maybe underneath that there is a naughty girl dying to be set free.”

Petyr Baelish was dangerous, of that Sansa was certain. She knew because every time she was near him, he became the edge of that extremely high cliff and when she stepped closer, she felt her stomach drop. And there she sat perched on that very edge, not only ignoring her intuition telling her that she might fall but feeling excitement from it. He was frightening. Not outwardly, in plain sight for everyone to see, no. To everyone else he probably seemed smart, cocky, perhaps a man who thought highly of himself but was approachable and non-threatening. But Sansa could feel it. She could feel the insidious cunning behind eyes that gave little away as to his true intentions.

“What do you want to do when you grow up?”

“Um... I don’t know. Marry a handsome man and be a good wife and a good mom, I guess.”

Petyr didn’t reply immediately. He looked at her for a moment, pursing his lips and then shook his head. “Is that all you want? You don’t want to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a... a movie star? Do you even want that at all or is it just what you think girls are supposed to want?”

Sansa wasn’t quite sure how to answer, no one had ever asked her that, not the last part. People always asked kids what they wanted to be, but no one ever asked her if she wanted more or insinuated that her reply was a programmed response. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well, you should. You are far too smart to be hidden away in a house in the suburbs with baby vomit on your blouse and a toddler underfoot planting Legos for you to step on. All while you prepare a dinner to have on the table in time for a man to get home from work that will eat it while whining to you about his long, difficult day and never once ask you about yours. Only to leave you with the dishes so he can plant himself on the sofa and watch television until it’s time for bed, where he’ll roll away from you with hardly a word and leave you wondering where it all went wrong.”

Sansa looked at Petyr then, struck by both fascination and fear. Adults never said such things to her or to any children. They never told them blunt and honest truths. Why was he speaking to her as though they were equals? Then she wondered if the picture he had just painted described his own marriage. Not all of it, of course. Her Aunt Lysa was hardly the type of woman that would leave spit-up on her clothes for more than the amount of time it took her to run and change, nor did she cook, but Sansa felt that something about the general statement of unhappiness rang true. Petyr told people how happily married he was and how lucky he was to have found Lysa but when Sansa thought about it, she knew that she had always felt that he was performing. It was an excellent performance, and others seemed to buy it, but she had noticed that when Lysa went to kiss Petyr he would turn his face so that her lips would land on his cheek instead of his mouth and she had never once seen him kiss her. She had noticed that he pulled away just slightly when her aunt would reach to touch or embrace him, and he never stayed in those embraces for very long.

“We should be friends, Sansa, don’t you think?”

“Friends? You’re my uncle.” She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by friends. Friends were friends and family was family, rarely ever one and the same.

“Only by marriage. I feel that you and I have a connection that goes a little beyond uncle and niece, wouldn’t you agree?”

Sansa nodded, unsure if she understood what he meant.

“And you can tell me things, sweetling. Anything. Things you wouldn’t normally tell anyone else, and you can trust that I will not tell another soul. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” she answered and in this, she did believe him.

“Good. But that works both ways. Whatever I tell you, you keep to yourself. Whatever happens between us, stays between us. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

He smiled. “I knew you would. Now…” He tucked a few strands of hair that had fallen across her cheek, back behind her ear. “You should probably get back downstairs before someone comes looking for you. But would you grant your dear uncle and friend a kiss before you go?”

She assumed that he meant to give her a kiss on the cheek, or for her to kiss him on the cheek, nothing more. Her parents asked for kisses all the time and that’s what they always meant. So, she said yes.

But he did not kiss her on the cheek. He took her face into his hands, leaned forward, and pressed his lips directly onto her own. It was soft and chaste, and he did not hold them there for very long before releasing her, but Sansa’s heart drummed wildly against her chest. No one had ever kissed her on the lips before.

He licked his lips after and gave her one of those smiles that did not quite reach his eyes. “Best run along now. We’ll talk again soon.”

She hopped down from his lap and walked only until she reached the library door, then ran the rest of the way down the stairs.

#petyr baelish #petyr x sansa #pxs #creepyshipping #creepyship #ficlet #fan fiction #mine

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goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog · 3 months

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Soo!!!! Requests are open?!

I can’t guarantee I’ll get to every one, I am depressed asf😂 but if I like it I will do my best because I want to write more and NOT be depressed.

I’m a housewife that’s been with the same man since I was thirteen. We married just after high school and have one child together. (A lots of honesty, I know) I LOVE HIM beyond all comprehension and he’s my book boyfriend as well!!! But I need something to keep me busy while he provides the amazing life he does for us.

My rules are simple!

•MDNI!!!!!!! I WILL report any minors on my page. Any false verification of age does not fall under my jurisdiction to police. If you are a minor masquerading as an adult, you shall handle the consequences.

• no knife or blood play. I’m open to almost any smut preference as long as I’m comfy with it☺️

•nothing pertaining to or mentioning murder play/*unaliving in general. 😤

•I will write for SPN, Starwars, Stranger things, Geralt of rivia, and Spider Man. I’m very set and sweet on these characters and cater to those fandoms. Please feel free to ask about any other characters you might like for exceptions. I ONLY DO x reader fics unless someone is willing to make commission.

• Please do not submit a request based on obscure characters. I’m AUDHD and have a niche to write for what I know. When I write, It’s a hyper fixation and I’m a perfectionist. Please expect delays in content output. I do this for fun and passion, not money.

*In full transparency, having followers or anons to submit requests will help me with my content flow. I lack motivation, and knowing someone is asking for something may help motivate me to write more and pursue my passion for writing. My associates degree is going unused and wasteful😂😂😂 so please help me to fulfil hobby/passion so I can publish a dang novel*

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luoqiu2023 · 5 months

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「Forest whispers」

(1)

It has been a full half day since you entered the depths of the forest, but now you have hardly seen anything else around except for dead branches and shrubs and the ground covered by heavy snow.

You are already exhausted, so you found a place under a tree and cleaned up the surrounding snow to leave a space for yourself to sit down and rest.

As you put down your luggage, you suddenly felt relieved and rubbed your sore shoulders and neck.

This forest is too big... It feels like you won't be able to find it before the sun sets today. You sigh and your confidence in finding that place earlier is instantly shattered. You lean against the tree, hold your head high, close your eyes, take a deep breath, and then bend down to stare at the snow.

What was it like when my father came to this forest back then? He wouldn't have gotten lost like himself, would he

Perhaps because of boredom, you poked the snow on the ground, then picked up a ball in your palm and held it as a snowball, throwing it forward. The snowball landed in the snow and rolled a few times before stopping

You feel a sense of defeat in your heart, after all, a few days ago you thought you could find a wooden house, but now you wander aimlessly in the forest like a headless fly.

Has my father not left any information for me? When you think about it, take out that thick notebook from your pocket and carefully search for it. Unfortunately, it only contains introductions to some wild animals.

You suddenly feel regretful. Is it difficult for you to deal with these animals? I can't guarantee that I won't be swallowed by them before asking for directions.

There is no signal here. Besides being able to use a flashlight, your phone can't even make emergency calls. Fortunately, you have a lot of food with you, so you probably can last for three or four days.

If you haven't found your father's residence before the food is almost depleted and haven't been able to leave the forest, then you can imagine what you will face.

Uncle's reminder is not without reason... maybe I will really get lost in this forest... just like that nursery rhyme sings.

Okay... now is not the time for anxiety!

You muster the courage to put all your bad emotions behind you.

In order to save more energy on the road ahead, you stand up and take out the sled board, place your luggage on it, tie a rope around your waist, and tie the sled board at the end of the rope. You will continue to pull these things on the road behind you.

Running around like this will definitely not find a place, we need to determine a direction.

You take out the photo of the wooden house from your notes and carefully stare at the sky in the photo, trying to find some information.

But there is no sunlight in the photo, it's cloudy... not even a iconic thing.

It seems that there is no clue left... You lost and clip the photo back to the original location in your notebook.

At the moment of putting it in, you seem to see something with a pause in your hand, picking up the book and slowly opening the page.

There were a few inconspicuous small holes on that page that I hadn't noticed before. Now, this kind of abruptness makes you feel strange. After thinking for a moment, you carefully tore off the page and flipped back and forth, but unfortunately, there was nothing written on it, just like

... was specially prepared for this photo.

You stared straight at a few small holes on the page and suddenly thought of something, lifting it above your head.

The weather is pretty good now, and the sunlight is shining through the holes, making it look like glowing dots. At the same time, you can also recognize it.

This is the Big Dipper, but it's strange. The Big Dipper is composed of seven stars, but there are three small holes on top of it, in the southeast direction of the Big Dipper.

You put down the pages of the book, and you can vaguely feel that this is a reminder from your father, but now it's noon... where did the stars come from?

You're not sure what it means on this piece of paper, but you're planning to try to remember that since there's the Big Dipper on it, the star next to it may be the direction

You are not sure if you understand it this way, but still take out the compass and determine the direction to continue moving forward.

————————————————————

(II)

"Hey buddy, do you know how to get here?"

The Asian man who looked very young in front of him patted the shoulder of the person walking in front of him, holding a somewhat tattered parchment scroll with an incomprehensible route map drawn on it. A foreigner about his age in front of him turned around and looked at him silently, finally shaking his head.

"No, I don't know."

"Oh okay, thank you. I'll ask someone else."

He politely thanked him and turned to look for someone else to ask for directions, while the foreigner looked at his back and turned away, whispering.

"Strange people..."

————————

Recalling the end, Treg picked up the kettle and poured himself a glass of water. This time he didn't drink coffee, he took a sip, and the plain water without any taste made the bitter Finnish frown.

He walked towards the door and stood quietly, looking into the distant forest. Treg remembered the scene he had met with your father.

Encountering him again was going to a tavern. He was very depressed about something and wanted to go drink. However, when he entered the door, he saw the previous Asian, and a group of people across from him were drunk.

Impressed deeply, Treg remembers your father laughing and holding up the liquor in his hand, shouting to get across the table to continue drinking, while the other person waved in fear and wanted to leave.

Seeing the group of people leave, he dampened his spirits and took a sip of the wine in his glass. However, when his gaze fell on Treg, he recognized him and greeted him with a smile, asking Treg to come and drink with him.

He was shocked by the empty wine bottles around him. This Asian looked a bit thin, but had a large alcohol tolerance. When he saw him coming over, he was about to ignore him and leave, but was pulled back by this Asian.

"Come and drink together!"

Are Asians so generous?

But when Treg sat down and chatted with him while drinking, he realized that this guy had made a bet with that group of people that if he could drink down the other group, they would agree to take him to the forest.

Indeed, this Asian has achieved it.

When he asked himself why he came to the tavern, the Finnish man's expression immediately became gloomy. The Asian at the table glanced at him and joked.

"Shouldn't it be a romantic issue? You can't catch a woman anymore?"

"..."

Seeing the boy bowing his head and not speaking, he immediately realized that he had probably guessed right.

"Oh..."

He stood up and patted the back of the man who was trapped in love, saying earnestly, "Kid, you've met a good person. Come and ask me!"

"You...? You look about the same age as me."

Seeing his disdainful and disdainful gaze, the man's desire for victory suddenly rose. Although he felt a bit dizzy due to alcohol, he still accurately found his wallet from his pocket and pulled it out. He opened his wallet and showed the photo inside in front of him.

"Look! My wife! I chased her for over a year back then, you don't know how beautiful she looks when she wears a wedding dress..."

Speaking of which, the drunken man held the photo and chuckled beside him as if recalling some beautiful memory. Then he took out another photo from his chest and told himself that it was a photo of his one year old child.

His eyes went from surprise to shock, and then he became envious. He didn't expect that this man was already a father.

After showing the photos to the person in front of him, he carefully collected two photos, picked up a glass of wine, and pushed it in front of him, carefully looking at him.

"So, I'll give you some advice to win a woman's heart. Can you help me find something about how to get into the forest together?"

At that time, entering the forest was basically a taboo for locals, except for some old hunters, because of the things in the forest... Although Treg didn't know the purpose of this newcomer to Asia, this condition was very tempting for him.

"How about it? Is that okay?"

The man extended his left hand, and the dim light in the tavern shone on his face. His eyes were bright, as if he had put starlight inside.

He took the glass of wine and finished it in one gulp, grabbing the other person's outstretched hand.

"Deal."

"XiChengZhao"

"Treg... um... your name is so difficult to pronounce."

"Hahaha."

The cheerful laughter of the Asian came from the tavern, and the two young people got to know each other like this.

"Darling, the sky over there doesn't look quite right..."

Ms. Felice walked out of the door and came to Treg's side. She pointed to half of the sky, which was shrouded in dark clouds in the distance, and said to him anxiously.

Treg followed his wife's direction and looked over there. When he saw the black cloud, he immediately sounded an alarm in his heart.

"Damn it, there's a blizzard coming at this time... Jim!"

He quickly entered the room and shouted his son's name, while Jim came out of the room and went downstairs in confusion.

"What's wrong, father?"

Treg quickly put on his down jacket, and when he saw his son come down, he handed him his coat.

"A blizzard is coming soon, let's go buy something to stock up with me."

"A blizzard? Wait a minute..." Jim was stunned when he heard these words. "So what should she do? She's still in the forest!"

"..."

There was an instant silence in the room, and after a while, Treg finally left. He walked out of the room without saying a word, and Jim knew his father didn't want to take care of him. He grabbed his arm anxiously.

"Father!"

"This is her business! We shouldn't have intervened!" Treg shouted, which startled Jim. His hand, which had originally grabbed his father's arm, trembled and fell down, and he lowered his head in silence.

At this moment, the father also realized his mistake and looked at his son apologetically.

"Sorry... but really, there's nothing I can do about it... let's go."

"Hmm..."

Isn't Treg worried anymore? Of course, he hopes you're okay more than anyone else. You're that guy's daughter... But with the arrival of a blizzard, he doesn't have a chance to find you. He can only go and ensure that his family is okay first

He can only pray that you can come out of the forest early, or find her father's residence. He has checked the food you carry on your body, which is enough for you to survive for three or four days, provided that you have not encountered any danger

At this moment, while walking in the forest, you also noticed something was wrong. The surrounding wind became noticeably cooler, and the weather began to be somewhat gloomy. The temperature around you noticeably decreased.

You found a high place to check the situation, and when you see the sky ahead as black as ink, you know it's not good

"... it's terrible."

————————————————-

(III)

The current situation is very bad. You are facing two choices, either to turn back or continue moving forward, but neither is known. If you go back now and cannot remember the route you took before, you will lose your direction. Choosing to continue to go deeper will make you unsure of what danger you will encounter.

Anyway, it's not a good outcome

Your heart is very conflicted and you don't want to give up halfway, but you are also afraid of danger. As a blizzard is approaching, you have decided to find a place to take shelter, after all, building a tent alone is not enough.

You look around to see if there are any caves or anything, but unfortunately, besides the vast white snow, there are only trees hanging with ice debris around.

It seems that I'm not lucky

You let out a sigh of disappointment, dragged your things behind you and continued walking forward, hoping to take a chance before it snowed. Anyway, it's too late to go back now.

Half an hour later, snowflakes followed the strong wind and began to descend on this area.

You are walking alone in the forest, surrounded by trees that are no longer bare. The pine and cypress leaves are covered in thick snow, and the snow is falling heavily. However, you can't even think about why the trees here grow so well. Now, you not only need to be vigilant about the appearance of wild animals around you, but also constantly worry about whether you will freeze to death here.

This is really too bad... isn't it?

Long periods of hiking leave you exhausted, forcing you to stop and rest in place. Sitting on the sled board, you look up at the looming high slope not far away.

Time is running out, let's stop here. The trees here are quite dense and may be able to block a lot of heavy snow from blowing.

After choosing the location, you put down your things and packed them up. The wind around you was even stronger than before. Although it was still in the afternoon, the sky was gloomy and uncomfortable. You know this is a precursor to a blizzard, so accelerate your movements and set up the tent.

You made sure to tighten the rope that fixed the tent, otherwise the strong wind could easily blow people and their tents away... You never expected to wake up and find yourself in an unknown place.

The cold wind is causing pain on your face. You bury your face deeply in the thick scarf. After completing the task at hand, the heavy snow and cold have already arrived. The cold wind blows the snowflakes flying wildly, making the seemingly gentle white snow extremely aggressive. You stand up straight, and your body appears so small in the cold wind.

You squint your eyes to see clearly into the distance, but the high slope in the distance has been pulled up by the gray white screen, and the sky is terrifyingly dark. You take a deep breath and turn around to get into the tent you have set up.

With a snap.

The light of the kerosene lamp illuminates this small space. You place it aside and sit quietly on the laid carpet. The snow itself is cold, but fortunately, you bought a blanket before so sitting on it won't make your buttocks cold.

The tent outside was trembling with the howling wind, as if it was about to tear apart your only hiding place. You listened quietly to the noise outside, took out your father's notes from your arms, and opened them.

You have read the notes written above many times, flipping through the photos again and again. Apart from some animals and scenery, there are also a few childhood photos of yourself, and there is very little text on it that you can understand.

There are too many things you don't understand... No matter how many times you read it, you still can't find any clues, including yourself who has been searching for it in confusion. You start to doubt whether your choices are correct.

You feel down, quietly close your notebook and put it away.

Your stomach started growling, but you didn't have the mood to eat anything. Dragging your tired body into your sleeping bag, you planned to rest first.

You are too tired... both mentally and physically.

Perhaps taking a nap would be much better? You think so.

It was really warm in the sleeping bag, and you closed your eyes tired and fell asleep deeply.

#assassin’s creed x oc

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tipsygnostalgy · 11 months

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The Stranger: Post-Read Review

Finished The Stranger. The main character is this absolutely insufferable autistic girlfailure of a man who continuously pretends he's divorced from the world when he isn't. I want to put him in a washing machine and spin cycle him until his brain matter falls out of him like black ballpoint pen ink from fabric. It's an incredible book, 9/10, could not recommend enough.

The last three pages are absolutely breathtaking, but even before then the imagery, the build-up, the focus on color/senses/heat and the complications of a man who is so utterly removed from the world, just as much as it is removed from him, and finds peace in that. He has no hope (which IMO is a lie, but I digress) and he's ready to start over, he's opened himself to the gentle indifference of the world by obtaining the ability of being indifferent to it back. Man, I need to case-study this guy. I'll probably end up writing a full review once I've re-read it. Some rudimentary thoughts, not intended for anyone to understand, but I'm thinking twelve miles per hour.

He can think of me as annoying all he wants, but this is kind of a loser way of thinking. I honestly can't tell if he's aroarce or just has zero emotional "object permanence."

He does this thing where he rids himself of all hope and finds comfort in a guaranteed death/outcome and although I respect the grindset, I can't help but note that he purposefully rids himself of all hope. It's almost cowardly?

Marie deserved better. Does he have any idea how lucky he is to have a hot French fiancé who likes swimming and loves him for his insanity, oh my god. I could treat her better, I know I could.

He's not divorced from the world?? He has a fiancé (though he notably doesn't tell her he loves her/tells her it doesn't matter), he has wants and desires and needs, and he has a fuckton of influence on other people. Almost adventurer-like in that sense.

He reads as very repressive, someone who realized that "to will is to stir up paradoxes" but never quite reached the "fuck it we ball" stage. He actively tries not to will, and it's just eugh. Like I said, insufferable.

Absolutely loving the idea of a definitive end allowing for freedom. If you know for certain you are going to die in an XYZ way, it gives you opportunity to do whatever the fuck you want until then. Trying to escape it only makes things worse/fulfills your prophecy—kind of like the Oracle of Delphi.

This guy was canonically autistic before autism was even established as a diagnosis. And though I myself don't have an autism DX, I have a good number of the traits, and I can see myself in him. No concept of time, texture-temperature sensitive, shot-dead emotional OP/OP in general, taking unfamiliar metaphors very literally, being annoyed by people imposing expressions and meaning and "actually you feel this way! :)" onto me. Oh, and never being able to identify my emotions. Camus slayed.

#tgreads

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the12thnightproject · 2 years

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A Mitsunari Night's Dream Chapter 27: Tab A

The return of Mozumi's pillow book brings with it an awkward conversation, an emotional revelation, and a late night escape.

Chapter Excerpt:

I learned a long while back that time travel can not be initiated by closing your eyes and reopening them.

I tried it anyway.

Nope.

Mitsunari was still in front of me, clutching the pillow book, and I had a feeling we were about to have a very awkward conversation.

“Lord Nobunaga suggested that I read this,” Mitsunari finally said.

Ok. Nobunaga was totally capable of being an enormous troll and doing just that, but… “Why?”

“I wanted to understand love.” He brushed at a page in the book, then gave it a closer look and slammed it closed.

Ah. Say something. Say something. I sank down on a cushion by the tea table. And said… nothing.

Mitsunari seated himself on the futon.

I mentally composed a hundred or so quippy comments before settling on, “Why?”

There was a slight hesitation before he answered. “Because I need to know what it feels like. Does it hurt? I think it must hurt sometimes.”

I took the book out of his hands and placed it on the desk. And then flipped it over so it was face down. “This is not the kind of book that will help. It might not be in any books at all.” (Modern self-help industry nonwithstanding). “Love is different for everyone.”

He nodded at the pillow book. “It seems like it would be futile, then to write this sort of text.”

“That’s not love. Well, I mean people who are in love enjoy those activities, in fact being in love likely enhances the experience – but that sort of thing can be enjoyable between any two-” Two or more, but I didn’t feel like I had the mental capacity to explain that “-people who are willing to participate.”

“That makes sense. In which case, I have a follow-up question.” He tapped the book. “Is the knowledge in this necessary for…” He left the sentence hanging.

I waited, but he didn’t fill in the blank. “I’m pretty sure it’s the kind of thing that people figured out long before there were books. Or there wouldn’t have been people around to write the books.”

“Yes. I see.” He sighed. My answer apparently hadn’t been satisfactory.

“Honestly, I don’t think this book is a ‘how to.’ Mozumi collected it because he enjoyed looking at the drawings.” Given the way he had treated Shohime and tried to manhandle me, I could almost guarantee that he hadn’t obtained the book for clues to how to satisfy a woman. “I mean, sure it probably helps to know what you’re doing. But you don’t need a book.” I reached my foot out and gently poked his calf. “Yes, there are things that you can figure out without a book. If two people pay attention to what each other likes, then it’s a good start.”

It looked like he was filing that information away to mull over later. “I’m not always adept at understanding what others like or feel. Is it permissible to ask? For example, if I said, ‘Okatsu, where do you like to be touched?’ it would be ok?”

My hand flew to the base of my throat before I could stop it, and I could feel my face grow warm. “Um. Yeah. It’s ok.”

He nodded as if I had answered more than one question, then opened his mouth to ask another, but I put up my hand. “Please. I am really not the person you should be talking about this with.” At his quizzical look, I sighed. “When it comes to the examples in that book, a lot of my knowledge is purely theoretical.”

“Ah. I understand. Would you like to borrow this book when I am finished reading it?” His expression was almost completely blank, save for a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth that hinted at suppressed laughter.

Was Mitsunari actually… teasing me?

Well, we’ve already established that what I would have liked would have been to back out of the room and re-enter to pretend this conversation never happened, and … wait…. “What were you doing when I came in?”

He crouched next to me and opened to a page where the couple appeared to be performing something extremely acrobatic, for reasons unknown to me. “This looked rather difficult to achieve, and as I am generally clumsy, I wanted to test it out in case it was something that could potentially result in an injury.”

My first thought was that that made sense in a weirdly illogical-logical way. But that was swamped by the realization that this entire situation was completely ridiculous and I started laughing.

Mitsunari looked hurt, so I hurried to explain. “No… No. I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at-” I gestured to the room at large. “All this.”

A smile slowly bloomed across his face… and it was joy. “When you walked in… the look on your face. You must have thought I had gone mad.”

Link to entire chapter:

@arrthurpendragon

#ikesen fanfic #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ao3 link #ikemen sengoku fanfic #mitsunari ishida #ikemen mitsunari #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen hideyoshi #ocfairygodmother #ocapp #cybird ikemen series

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wsioms · 2 years

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Who Really Owns Your Linkedin Profile?

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cashcardhelpsusa · 2 years

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How To But Top Seed That Accept Cash App Borrow?

Are you searching for the top seed banks that accept Cash App Borrow in your area? Look no further. Check out this list to find the top seed banks that accept Cash App. It includes information on each bank and their most popular strains.

The rise of online shopping platforms and payment services has taken the world by storm. Consequently, You can buy almost everything, including seeds, from the convenience of your home.

Cash App, a convenient contactless payment method that lets you send and receive money immediately and securely, is the best. Many people wonder if they can use Cash App Borrow to purchase seeds online.

Good news! There are many seed banks that you can use to buy seeds using Cash App.

Seed Banks accepting Cash App include Just Cannabis Seeds Express. Greenpoint Seeds

Express. Seedsman. ILGM Seed Bank. Sunwest Genetics. Crop King Seeds. Rocket Seeds. Lucious Genetics. COF Seed Vault.

Select the Cash App option when you reach the payment page on one of these sites. The Cash App will connect your accounts automatically.

Learn more about each bank and how you can use Cash App to purchase seeds from them.

Top 7 Seed Banks That Accept Cash App Borrow Payments

The Cash App was created at the end of 2013 by Square and has quickly become an extremely well-known mobile payment option available. Millions of customers use Cash App because it makes creating an account easy, allowing you to send and receive payments through your phone in just a few seconds. It is undoubtedly faster and more secure than credit or debit cards.

If you’ve used any of the services like Venmo or Zelle, You’ll see that the Cash App is a lot like them and offers quick and easy methods to transfer money or receive. It makes shopping simple without pulling out your debit or credit card, as is the norm. It is also possible to open your phone and buy seeds online in one minute or less using Cash App.

Check out the following listing of the top 7 seed banks which accept Cash App Borrow as a payment method.

Rocket Seeds

Rocket Seeds is a small seed bank based in Canada. They have a good image and are trustworthy, making them one of the most reliable alternatives for buying cannabis seeds through the Cash App.

It has more than 3,000 varieties so that buyers can pick from them. At the same time, the bank ensures an 80% germination guarantee and guaranteed delivery on time.

Just Cannabis Seeds

If you’re searching for top-quality marijuana genetics at an affordable cost, Just Cannabis Seeds may be what you require. The diverse collection includes traditional autoflowering, feminized, and regular cannabis seeds for classic and new varieties.

Although it’s a smaller seed bank than other choices listed, Just Cannabis Seeds is dedicated to offering customers an excellent value for their dollars.

ILGM Seed Bank

ILGM Seed Bank is one of the top seed banks that accepts the Cash App. ILGM Seed Bank offers free seeds with every purchase and has a vast range of seeds. They’re a reputable company and have an excellent reputation!

Another advantage of using ILGM Seed Bank is that it is possible to order in-store or on the internet, making it highly convenient to purchase from the bank using the Cash App.

Salient Features

● Free Seeds with ever order

● 90% Germination guarantee

● Different payment methods, including Cash App

● Shipping is free to the U.S

● Free Growing book

● Excellent customer support

Weed Seeds Express

Another seed bank that works with the cash App includes Weed Seeds Express. It’s incredibly reliable, has an impeccable reputation, and offers rapid, secure, and secure delivery to all customers worldwide.

It’s renowned for its excellent seed quality, as well as the variety of the strains. From female seeds to regular seeds to autoflower seeds, you’ll be able to find what you require.It also has an option for beginners who need very little care to ensure a good harvest.

Crop King Seeds

Crop King Seeds is a Canadian seed bank operating since 2005. It provides over 500 combinations with various flavors and effects and can be tailored to your desired outcomes. You can find everything from autoflower to regular to feminized seeds on its website, which is easy to navigate.

The most significant feature of this bank’s seed is that it supports different payment options such as PayPal, Bitcoin, Money Order, and even the Cash App Borrow.

Crop King Seeds provides fast and reliable customer support. It also assures high germination rates to improve your satisfaction.

Sunwest Genetics

Sunwest Genetics is the largest seed bank in Canada. They’re recognized for their exceptional customer service, extensive range of seeds, and affordable costs.

The company delivers to many countries around the globe. So if you’re outside Canada and still want to purchase at Sunwest Genetics, they can bring your order to your doorstep. Sunwest Genetics has a fantastic blog that provides details about the cannabis industry and news from worldwide.

Some of the essential points that compel people to like Sunwest Genetics

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● Free shipping on orders of more than $200

Seedsman

With over 20 years of operation, there is no reason to be surprised that Seedsman is at the top of reliable seed banks.

Offering over 25 different seed banks and offering more than 350 varieties, the Seedsman collection is available to customers worldwide. Seeds are of high quality, affordable, and backed by an extremely high germination rate.

The website is straightforward to navigate, and customer service is fast, which makes your shopping experience more enjoyable.

Benefits Of Buying Seeds With Cash App Borrow

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Hence, these are excellent things to remember when looking for seed banks that accept cash Apps.

CONCLUSION

This article lists the top 7 seed banks that accept Cash App Borrow. We also discussed the advantages of using Cash App to purchase seeds. As you all know, Cash App’s best feature is its simplicity which even a novice can easily use, and It is convenient to buy seeds using Cash App.

We believe this post shall indeed prove to be beneficial for the Cash App users. If you still have any issues, you can feel free to contact us at any point of time.

For more information - https://justproms.com/read-blog/13443

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wokieeshopify · 2 years

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30 Best Health and Medical WordPress Themes 2022

Our health is important, and we place our trust in a plethora of doctors, nurses, pharmacists, and other medical professionals every day. It’s vital, therefore, that the website for your medical practice accurately portrays the level of trust, compassion, and care that you provide. However, with so many WordPress themes available, it can be difficult to know what to look for.

When choosing the best medical WordPress theme for your site, you’ll want to look for plenty of customization options. This will provide your patients with an easy-to-navigate (and well-presented) website. You’ll also need functionality for displaying your practice’s contact and opening information – Google Maps embedding and a timetable plugin are practically essential. Online booking is also a bonus, although its importance may depend on how your practice operates.

In short, there are plenty of options. As such, in this list, we’ll point out the best medical WordPress themes that are available. So take a look, choose your favorites, and be sure to check out their live demo sites before making a purchase!

1. Exponent

Working in the medical industry means you probably don’t have much time to spare (if any). However, you also need to make sure people keep walking through the doors. Exponent can help you do that, especially when you have little time to devote towards creating your website.

There’s a fantastic drag-and-drop page builder (not to mention a header builder) built into this theme. However, the real selling point is the variety of demo layouts on offer – including one specifically for medical sites. This demo’s default header includes practically everything a visitor will need to get in touch with you, while a clear and prominent call to action invites them to book an appointment.

Just about everything you’ll want to get up and running quickly is contained within this pre-built site. However, if you have your own requirements – such as displaying comprehensive team profiles or adding booking forms – the aforementioned page builder will let you make whatever changes are needed.

While Exponent is a multipurpose theme, it doesn’t feel like a ‘jack of all trades, master of none’. It’s a particularly strong solution for creating your medical website, one that’s well worth checking out!

More Info / Download Demo

2. Mediz

Working in medicine requires rock-solid credibility. While visuals aren’t the only factor, you wouldn’t trust a doctor’s office or a clinic with a website straight out of the last century. For a theme that tells future patients your clinic is on the cutting edge, Mediz might be the remedy you’re looking for.

This theme ships with three pre-built demos for hospitals, clinics, and dentist offices. Beyond that, you also get to play with 12 page layouts for elements such as contact pages, doctor portfolios, service lists, and more. Every single page features a clean, modern design, with a strong preference for blue tones. In the realm of color theory, this has been shown to increase trust — precisely what a medical website needs.

Mediz looks professional and it also includes several features to help customize your website. They include a drag-and-drop page builder, support for Google Fonts, and integration with WooCommerce, among others.

You wouldn’t want to visit a clinic that doesn’t offer the best in terms of treatment, and its website should also reflect this level of commitment. If you’re looking for a theme that enables you to promote your medical business in the best light possible, check out Mediz.

More Info / Download Demo

3. Medin

When it comes to your medical website, there’s one thing you can almost guarantee about its visitors – they’ll be in a hurry. To help them out, your site should streamline the process required to contact you as much as possible. Fortunately, Medin could be just the theme to help you do that.

Unlike other themes with tons of demo layouts, Medin only has three options. These cater to dentists, surgeries, and clinics. However, this doesn’t mean the theme is lacking in features. There’s plenty of scope for creating a layout that suits your needs, especially when you use the bundled WPBakery Page Builder plugin to your advantage.

Medin has another neat trick up its sleeve to help your site’s visitors ascertain key information about your practice – a ‘quick view’ bar in the header. This will display practically whatever important information you desire when moused over, which is a thoughtful touch and pushes the functionality of this particular theme further than many of its competitors.

Overall, Medin’s feature set performs admirably. However, where it really shines is its approach to User Experience (UX). As such, it’s likely to be a top pick for your shortlist!

More Info / Download Demo

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wonderful-writes · 3 years

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Presume

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tom thinks you’re too pretty to be any good at academics. You can imagine his shock when he’s proven wrong.

Word Count: 2k (2,097)

Author’s Note: The idea for this fic was given to me by @bellaswansrealgf. It was such a fun topic to write, so thank you so much bae for coming up with the idea! I’ll definitely be using more of your suggestions in the future.

Tom Riddle found himself becoming increasingly irritated. How could Professor Slughorn possibly expect him to work with a partner? What kind of fool did Slughorn think he was? Tom was perfectly capable of completing his project himself, and it was rather insulting for his professor to assign someone to help him. And not just anyone. Slughorn had assigned you.

You, the pretty girl, were in no capacity an ideal partner. You were friendly and charming and surely too bubble-headed to know a thing about potions. You were probably irritating and selfish and vain, too. Tom would have rather been partnered up with the clown from Gryffindor than with you.

“Tom, right?” you asked as you took a seat next to him. You were dressed in neat robes and had nicely styled hair. You probably spent all morning on it.

“Yes,” he replied curtly without so much as a glance your way. He began flipping his textbook to the desired page and scanning it with his eyes.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced.

Tom ignored you as he continued to read the page.

“So, what kind of potion do you think we should make?” you asked him, opening your own book.

Once again, Tom didn’t bother to look up or respond.

“Hello?” you tried again.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Listen, I know potions is probably not your area of expertise, so it’s best if you just sit there and let me work.”

“Excuse me?” you asked, surprised at how this stranger could claim to already know you without having ever spoken to you. “How would you know if I’m not good at potions?”

Tom scoffed. “If you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly look like you’d be much of an academic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you questioned, starting to get offended.

“Well, I’m the best in the class,” Tom said like it was the most natural thing to come out of his mouth. “Professor Slughorn probably sent you here so that I could babysit you. You can’t be any good if you need me as a mentor.”

“I don’t need you as a mentor,” you told him. “Professor Slughorn wanted us to work together for this assignment.”

“Like I said,” he replied, turning back to his book, “maybe you should let me handle the assignment.”

You were beyond aggravated. How could someone who barely knows you make such assumptions about you? You were more than adept in potions, and it was unfair of him to shut you down without letting you prove your skills.

“You realize this assignment is worth 25% of our grade, don’t you?” you asked him as you crossed your arms.

“Precisely,” he answered. “Which is why I won’t let you mess it up.”

You had never met a more arrogant person.

“If you’re going to be this way,” you declared, “I’ll just ask Slughorn if I can work alone. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience the great Tom Riddle.”

Tom breathed a sigh of relief as you packed your belongings and walked away. You were attractive, sure, but you were also annoying. He was glad to be rid of anyone who didn’t let him take charge.

Slughorn allowed the two of you to work separately. To Tom’s approval, you set up your station far away from his. He almost pitied you. It couldn’t be easy for someone like you to complete an entire project by yourself. People like you only cared about their appearances or what the latest gossip was. There was no way you could make any of the complicated potions on the list of options for the assignment without help.

By the end of the week, Slughorn had finished grading the students’ potions and their accompanying essays. Tom, ever so confident in his abilities, was shocked when he didn’t receive a perfect score.

“What did I do wrong, Professor?” he asked after class had been dismissed. “I could have sworn I didn’t miss anything.”

“You forgot to crush the bay leaves before you put them in,” Slughorn explained. “But not to worry, my boy. You chose a highly complex concoction. It is almost guaranteed that any student who attempts to recreate it will forget at the very least one step.”

“Did anyone else choose that potion?” Tom wondered.

Slughorn nodded with a twinkle in his eye.

“And did anyone get it right?” Tom asked. He was doubtful that anyone in the class could have succeeded at something he failed to perfect, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“That’s for me to know, my boy,” the teacher answered. Seeing the frustrated look on Tom’s face, he chuckled and added, “Just know that you shouldn’t judge your partners so prematurely.”

Tom spent the majority of the night ruminating on Slughorn’s words. Could it be that you were the student who had gotten the perfect score on the potion he had attempted? He refused to believe it. Slughorn must have been referring to another student, one that Tom was paired with in the past. You couldn’t possibly be the partner in question.

It had been weeks since Tom came in second for the first time in his life. He convinced himself that it couldn’t have been you who bested him. Of course, he speculated who the true victor could be, but he couldn’t put his finger on who in the class could be worthy of such high marks.

Eventually, the time came for the annual examination preparation. Professor Slughorn’s students were assigned a series of practice exams to help them prepare for the actual ones. Each practice test focused on a different area within potions, and it was the students’ job to be well-versed in all of them.

At the beginning of every week, a new practice exam was passed out, and the grades for the previous week’s exam was posted on a roster at the front of the class.

Tom never bothered with making a show of checking his grades, knowing fully well that he would always be at the head of the class. But with the newfound knowledge of a possible competitor, he couldn’t quell his curiosity.

Making his way to the front of the room with the usual throng of Slytherin boys, he displayed no sign of concern. Why should the best in the year have to worry about some halfwit who ran into a bit of luck one time?

His air of indifference was quickly squashed, however, when he approached the posted practice exam scores and saw that his was the second highest. Second? That couldn’t be right. Tom Riddle never came in second. Who was first? Who could feasibly best Tom Riddle at a potions examination? The most brilliant student in all of Hogwarts, and in his best subject too?

He was horrified beyond comparison when he saw none other than your name at the pinnacle of the score sheet.

You.

Impossible. There was no chance that the bubbly girl with the face of an angel, er, a moron, could ever have received such excellent marks.

He’d seen you around, and you were most definitely not the kind of girl who cared about your performance in school. You were always smiling with your friends or tucking your hair behind your ear or dazzling a crowd with an extraordinary story. When you weren’t smoothing down your clothes or checking your made-up face, you were befriending the professors, something only stupid people needed to do.

So how could you have gotten a higher score than him? There must have been a mistake. He would have to ask Slughorn about it after class.

As he walked back to his seat, he glanced at where you were positioned, a table not too far from his own. You had already started on your assignment for the day, making quick work of the cutting and crushing of ingredients. Sure enough, you were dripping with the grace and beauty of someone who most likely didn’t know the difference between reed and foxtail.

How could one possibly be proficient in any academic subject when they looked like that? You probably spent more time shining your shoes than studying for exams. Then how did you beat him, and twice?

He watched you work for the remainder of the period. To his surprise, you were doing everything correctly. You never added a drop too much or a sprig too little. You stirred with precision and knew what color to look for in the brew. You seemed to know exactly what you were doing. Were you truly more intelligent than he had originally presumed?

Still unconvinced, he approached Professor Slughorn after dismissal to question the scores from the most recent exam.

Slughorn only sent him a mysterious look before answering, “Everything is as it should.”

After the third week of coming in second place, Tom decided that it was enough. It was time he put his troubles to rest and find out for himself what sort of witchcraft was in play.

“Are you cheating?” he abruptly asked you the moment you took your seat. Professor Slughorn was not yet in class, giving the students ample time to converse before lessons began.

Startled, you stared back at him. “What?”

“You must be receiving help on your practice exams or at the very least borrowing notes from someone,” he stated matter-of-factly. “So tell me. Who is it?”

You had had enough of this arrogant git’s behavior. “What makes you think I need help? Is it so hard to believe that you are not the only person in this room who can do well in school?”

“Well I- you see, you’re not exactly the sort to put much thought to academics,” he defended.

“And what sort is that?” you questioned.

“You know, the vain, pretty lot,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d imagine you spend more time on your appearance than on your academics.”

You gaped at the boy before you. “You think I’m pretty? And before you go on, my appearance has nothing to do with my drive to excel in scholarly affairs. I’ll have you know I’m more than capable of receiving just as good of marks as you are, despite what you think.”

“Then work with me on today’s partner project,” he challenged.

“Excuse me?” The last thing you were expecting was for the high-and-mighty Tom Riddle to want anything to do with you after his blatant rudeness.

“If you’re truly as good as you say—”

“You mean as good as the scores prove,” you cut in.

Tom rolled his eyes. “If you’re really that good, show me. Demonstrate your skills on today’s potion, and I’ll believe you.”

So the two of you spent the class working together on the assigned potion. Tom made sure to stand back so that you could have the freedom to do things on your own, silently hoping that you would make a mistake. But you didn’t.

Your potion was perfect. There was not an herb out of place or a drop not potent enough. Everything was as it should.

You had clearly proven to Tom that you were a skilled student, worthy of his second glance. You only hoped that the self-righteous twat would realize not to judge people before knowing them.

“While I hate to admit my own shortcomings, you were right,” Tom conceded.

You smiled at his admittance. “Thanks, Tom. I’m glad you learned something from this experience.”

He had expected to feel more disdain at the fact that he had finally found his match. He was waiting for annoyance, jealousy, some spark of rage at being second-best. But all he felt was a strange sensation.

You were quite honestly brilliant, and he couldn’t remember a time when he genuinely thought that about a fellow student. You were quick-witted, sharp-tongued, and unafraid to back down from a challenge. You stood up to him despite barely knowing anything about him, other than that he was a royal pain to you. And, not to mention, you were quite a sight to behold.

It was no secret that Tom kept to himself more often than not. Sure, he had a group of peers who respected him — whether out of fear or genuine liking is up for debate — but he never got to know anyone on a personal level. He never let anyone get too close or see him for someone other than the shining pupil with big plans. But, for once, he wanted someone to share his genius with.

He intended to make you that person.

—

Part 2

#tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle fanfiction

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wkemeup · 3 years

Text

Sunrise (8)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.3k warnings: sweet happy beautiful bucky, a unpleasant reminder of the past, whiplash of emotion, the angst I warned you about 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how to hold onto this feeling without suffocating it.

It had been nearly a year since he’d felt even an ounce of the relief like what washed through his body when you walked through the door. All it took was a single smile from across the room, the soft brush of your hair over your fingers as you nervously tucked it behind your ear, and he was gone.

Enough for his cheeks to ache from smiling. Enough for his stomach to twist and knot from laughter. Enough for the wrinkles by his eyes to draw long and pronounced— the physical embodiment of joy upon his face.

He wasn’t walking on eggshells, waiting for the carpet to be dragged out from under his feet, for the paralyzing darkness of an empty void to consume him whole. The shadows weren’t lingering in his wake, itching to clench their claws into his spine and drag him away from the one thing that finally drew light back into his life.

For the first time since he stepped back on American soil, Bucky Barnes was happy. Truly and honest to God, happy.

“So! What do you think?” your voice called to him, breaking the trance he’d been in.

“Hmm?” Bucky blinked a few times to adjust to his surroundings. You were laughing at him, a hand over your lips in an effort to muffle the sound. Behind you, a woman directed a pointed stare in your direction despite the busy chatter inside Luciana’s.

“The book, Bucky,” you grinned, tapping on the edge of the binding.

He glanced down. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue sat propped in his right hand, the clip you’d given him the first day of book club nestled in at the center to keep the pages open. Truthfully, he hadn’t read a single word of it since he sat down with you an hour ago. His attention had been better kept watching how you tugged your lower lip between your teeth in concentration, how your eyes widened at a particularly suspenseful part of your chapter, how you clicked your nails against the coffee mug in perfect rhythm with the café music.

“It’s good,” he said, though you pouted at him.

“Bucky you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes!”

Busted. He shrugged, a laugh in his breath.

“Guess there were better things to look at.”

Your lips parted for a second, caught off guard, before you settled back into your seat. Your hands wrung out in front of you, eyes darting down the floor. It wasn’t easy to make you flustered, but damn if it was Bucky’s favorite feeling in the world.

“Don’t insult my books like that, Barnes,” you teased, lingering smile upon your face.

“Wouldn’t call it an insult,” he said simply. “There’s not much that can hold a candle when you’re around.”

The stun didn’t leave your face for a few seconds. You stared at him, then glanced around the room nervously as if he’d said something incredibly intimate. He couldn’t remember the last time this came so easy to him – the flirting, the charm. It was something he’d thrived on before the war and now, it seemed you brought that side out of him again.

“You’re a charmer today,” you observed, laughing through the nervous energy. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugged, reaching across the table to break off a piece of your pastry and plopped it into his mouth. “I’m happy. Can I be happy?”

You nodded quickly, almost a little too enthusiastically, with a smile so wide on your face he wondered if it were possible for it to touch your ears.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be happy.” The words left your lips almost breathlessly. You were looking at him like he was the goddamn sun and damn if that didn’t tug straight at his heart. “I like you happy.”

“I like me happy, too,” Bucky chuckled. He glanced up at the clock. “Come on, we should head over to the VA.”

You downed the rest of your coffee in a single chug and set the cup on the counter. Luciana waved at you as you moved towards the exit, Bucky in tow, and she winked at him as he passed by. He nodded, offering her a tight-lipped smile as he stepped out into the cool Autumn air. Your hand naturally slipped into his and you tugged him along the sidewalk.

“Promise me you’ll actually pay attention to Steve’s spiel instead of staring at me the whole time,” you teased him as you walked over the crosswalk, nudging his side.

Steve was giving a presentation at the VA for the open house; explaining the benefits, the groups, different opportunities, and the respite rooms. It was a big deal apparently and helped to bring a lot of former soldiers into the fold. It was one of your favorite days because there was usually an increase of members at book club for a few weeks after.

“No guarantees,” Bucky replied, face as even as he could manage it. That was, until you swatted his chest and he burst into laughter, drawing the attention of a group of teenagers who eyed him as they walked by. Their lingering stare meant nothing to him when he stood at your side.

When you reached the VA, you pushed open the door, considering his hand was otherwise occupied, and led him inside. There were dozens of people in the lobby, certainly more than he’d ever seen inside. Men and women were mingling around the tables, some sitting on the couches, with paper plates of cheese and crackers from the grocery store.

Tony stumbled by carrying about four boxes filled with cookies, barely keeping his balance.

“I could use a little help, kid!” he called, eyeing you as he frantically made his way to the kitchen.

“Coming, Tony!” You turned to Bucky, smile still present on your face as you ran a hand along his arm in comforting sweeps. “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Go.”

Maybe if he looked close enough, he might have seen a well of pride on your face, but you didn’t give him the chance before you leaned up and pressed a kiss straight to his lips— no cares for the crowd in the room or the fact that Sam and Steve were lingering around the VA somewhere. Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to worry about the stares because, hell, maybe he wanted people to know you were the woman he had the privilege of kissing.

“Go,” Bucky said again, pulling away from you reluctantly as a clanging could be heard from the kitchen, followed by an aggravated moan which could have only belonged to Tony Stark. You pouted, stealing one last kiss before bolting down the hall and out of sight.

Bucky spent a few extra seconds staring down the end of the empty hallway before he turned back to the room. The crowd didn’t bother him as much as it might have a few months earlier. He didn’t feel the same rush of anxiety in his veins as he felt on busy streets, but it didn’t mean he was explicitly comfortable either.

So, he kept to the outskirts of the room, standing along the wall and observing quietly from the corners.

The event seemed to be going well. He’d spotted Steve mingling with a group of older guys with long white beards and biker jackets, laughing as they told him about their adventures biking cross country. Sam found his way over to the couch beside a few of the guests who had busied themselves with the food instead and even found a way to get them talking to one another. Bucky kept his hand pressed into his pocket, a semblance of a smile on his face as he watched Sam pick a chip of the plate of the woman he was talking to without reservation.

It was a good place. A respite. Just like Sam had told him it would be. Bucky found a sense of normalcy in this building he couldn’t have hoped to find out in the real world alone— a belonging – and he knew a lot of that had to do with you.

He was just about to head down to the kitchen to see if you needed any help when he heard a voice that ran like ice through his veins. What it had said was indistinguishable, but Bucky could recognize the thick grovel of the tone almost anywhere. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, trying to remain as small as possible, as he spotted Jack Rollins emerging from the entrance.

With slicked jet-black hair, hardened angular lines upon his face, and a permanent scowl etching down on his features, Jack Rollins was not a man Bucky ever wanted to see again. He spoke with the two men in his wake, gesturing to a woman who was standing quietly by herself, reading the flyers on the bulletin board, as if he were stalking prey.

Bucky’s heart was thunderous as he took a step back. His black slammed against the wall, catching the breath in his lungs. His fingertips brushed over the chill of the pealing wallpaper, trying to find his grounding before Rollins noticed he was there. But luck was never so kind to him.

It only took one scan of the room before Rollin’s eyes landed on Bucky. He stilled, just as surprised to see him, but then, something dark twisted upon his features.

“Sergeant Barnes!” he called over the crowd, a jeering sort of laugh in his voice.

Bucky gritted his teeth, forcing himself to meet Rollins in the eye. “Jack.”

“Been over a year, man. How you been?” Rollins was conversational only in statement. His tone was near threatening, his men following behind him like a shadow. Dark eyes trailed down along the empty sleeve on Bucky’s side, a smile rising on his face.

Bucky tried to pretend as though he didn’t notice. “Recovering. You?”

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Rollins chuckled. Then, he puffed his chest up. “I’ve been working for the private sector.”

That didn’t surprise him. Rollins always had an affinity for the darkest parts of the job overseas. He took too much pleasure in the use of his weapon, paid no mind to the destruction left behind in his wake. Rollins was exactly the sort of man the military hoped to produce; follow chain of command without question, find purpose in your mission, execute without remorse. Seemed he found more of the same when he returned home. Only this time for a bigger paycheck.

Bucky could still picture him dressed in army camouflage with the weight of near forty pounds of combat gear on his back, finger always on the trigger. It felt a bit like that now, Bucky realized, as Rollins narrowed his eyes as if he were going in for the kill.

“You know, Barnes,” Rollins shrugged, exchanging a snide grin with his friends, “I’m a little surprised you’d even show your face around here after what happened. Takes guts.”

Bucky swallowed as though there weren’t blades in his throat. He tried not to let the hitch in his breath show or how his stomach dropped about ten feet below the surface. Instead, he pressed his lips together into a thin line, holding Rollins’ stare as if he were made of stone.

“You should leave,” Bucky said, his voice low enough to break gravel.

“Me?” Rollins mocked, laughing as he turned to his friends. Then, facing Bucky again as a darkness clouded over his features. “That's rich, coming from you.”

Bucky held his breath. He tried to draw on images of you sitting across from him at Luciana’s, how you smiled at him, how you made him feel like he didn’t carry such a heavy weight upon his back. He pictured you curled up next to him in your bed, imprints of the pillow on your cheeks and the covers pulled up tight to your chin. He imagined how your hand felt in his, how it brushed along his back, how your lips felt on his cheek, on his mouth.

But those pictures started to fade the longer Rollins stared at him, that devilish smirk upon his face as he ran a hand along his jawline, cracking his knuckles against the bone. Those comforting images of you sunk into the darkness, pulled from him somewhere far beyond where he could reach and suddenly, he felt like he was standing on a pillar at the center of the ocean, nothing but violent waves surrounding him for miles. Alone.

“I mean, what the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?” Rollins jeered, picking up a cookie from the table, inspecting it for a moment before he tossed it back on the platter. It crumbled on impact. “You think you even deserve to step foot in this building after what you did?”

“It didn’t go down like you think,” Bucky shot back, his voice uneven, wavering, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

He tried to repeat the words that Sam had worked to instill in him again and again for months after he came home. They never seemed to stick until the last few weeks but now – now they felt as far away as ever.

I did everything I could.

Some things are outside of my control.

It wasn’t my fault.

He wasn’t sure he believed that with Jack Rollins circling around him like a vulture, amused by the distress quickly forming against Bucky’s features.

From across the room, Sam stood up from his place on the couch, a hand gesturing over to Steve as he caught sight of Rollins. Bucky retreated in his stance, feeling as though Rollins was towering over him, his chest caving in. Rollin smirked, teeth bared and ready to strike.

With venom like precision, Rollins spat, “You’re the reason half our unit is dead, asshole.”

It hit like a sucker punch to the gut, made him stumbled back a few paces as if he were clocked in the chest. The initial blow only lasted for a few seconds before the overwhelming sense of shame seeped back into his veins, slipping through his blood like muddied waters and stealing away the careful, steady progress he’d made.

Then, a lingering acceptance as it cleared him to the surface.

A numbness took over, casting back to the shadows inside his mind. It was what he’d been waiting for since the day he’d stepped foot off that plane – for someone to confirm all the destruction and self-loathing he’d felt since that day.

Rollins was right.

I could have saved them.

I could have prevented all of it.

It was my fault.

He’d been foolish to convince himself otherwise.

“Hey!” Sam barked, jutting out in front of Bucky and shoving a hand to the middle of Rollin’s chest as he attempted to draw closer. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”

“My problem? My problem is you’re letting just about anyone walk through those doors!” Rollins shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky. “Your buddy here is responsible for eight of our own coming home in caskets!”

Bucky flinched, visibly recoiling as if something had burned him, and it seemed to be the reaction Rollins was looking for because a snide grin slid up along his cheeks.

Steve was suddenly on his left, a hand pressed to his shoulder. He was whispering something in his ear, but he couldn’t quite hear him. He could hardly make out what Sam was shouting as he attempted to push Rollins towards the door. A crowd was gathering – standing in watch to observe the shame of a soldier who should have burned in the desert with his friends.

“What’s going on?”

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sound of your voice as you appeared on his right. He didn’t know how long you’d been there or what you heard, but it was the first time he ever regretted allowing himself the luxury of your presence, of your warmth and kindness. You should have been an anchor beside him, but he could feel the rope slipping from his grip, letting him sink down into the ocean or float high into the clouds – somewhere far away from where you were.

You ran your hand along his arm, trying to thread an ounce of comfort back into his body, but he was rigid as stone. The touch was paralyzing. It was a reminder of his emptiness, of his ill attempt to be worthy of your affection. You seemed to notice as you stared up at him, worry filling your eyes.

“Ah, so you’ve got a girl now, too?” Rollins sneered towards Bucky, shoving Sam aside.

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky warned, his voice returning to him only in your defense. He stepped out in front of you, shielding you from Rollins’ gaze.

It only seemed to amuse him more. “Tell me, sweetheart. What’s it like? I mean, can he even get the job done? You wanna try being with a real man again?”

It was Sam that roared in response. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

Your hand rested on Bucky’s shoulder blades as if you were trying to ease him but he felt like he was on fire. Rollins shoved Sam aside to get a better look at you, a predator going in for the kill.

Rollins’ cold eyes stared directly into yours and Bucky felt his breathing stop.

“Did you know half of our unit died under his watch?”

Everything became white noise after that. Bucky didn’t dare turn to look at your reaction, nor could he hear Sam’s defense or Steve’s angry shouts as Rollins continued his taunts. He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, Rollins was on the floor. Sam was shaking his hand out, holding his fist against his chest.

Rollins stumbled his way back to his feet with a vengeance, folding his hands into fists as he charged at Sam.

“Get him out of here!” Steve’s muffled voice called to you as the crowd began to swarm in. Former soldiers joining the chaos, cheering or barreling fists. A man bumped into Bucky’s shoulder, but there was no trace of a reaction on his face. He was empty. He was numb.

Bucky could vaguely feel your hand as you slipped it into his pocket, drawing his own to intertwine between your fingers and you tugged him down the hall. He knew better than to look over his shoulder at the mess he was leaving behind.

***

You took Bucky into the empty library, quickly closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the shouting down the hall. Bucky stood at the head of the couch, his eyes downcast.

“Are you alright?” You knew there was no good answer. It was a foolish question. And still -- you asked.

Your hands slid along Bucky’s chest, up to his shoulders to try and draw some of the tension away, and for the first time, he recoiled under your touch. Your hands quickly dropped down to your sides as you took a few steps back, hands held tightly in front of you. A flash of remorse covered his features as he looked at you, but then the stone swept back in its place and hardened the softened edges you adored. You pushed aside the splinter inside your chest.

“Who was that guy anyway? He seems like a real piece of work.” You laughed, though it was tense and forced. Bucky didn’t so much as crack a smile.

It was silent for a moment. The only sound coming from the low hum of the radiator in the corner of the room. Bucky’s gaze was fixated on the carpet, staring at the years’ faded stains and the dust bunnies at the foot of the couch. A terrible aching tugging down on his lips, on his eyes, on his cheeks, and he barely resembled the man who had teased you over coffee at Luciana’s just an hour earlier.

“He was right, though.”

You swallowed, daring to ask, “what do you mean?”

“I'm the reason half my unit is dead,” Bucky replied flatly. When he looked at you again, you found his eyes were red, his lips swollen from chewing on the edges. His right hand had indents in his palm from where he’d dug his nails into the skin. Your stomach lurched.

“Oh, Bucky.” Your heart broke at the sight of him. “That... That can’t be true.”

He didn’t say anything, but the grit in his teeth was enough to tell you that he believed it. You’d only seen glimpses of how the war had touched him, how it cast shadows over the man he’d been before he stepped on that plane and adorned the uniform, but now – now, it felt like those shadows had consumed him whole. He couldn’t so much as see the soft rise of the sun over his shoulder. He was too swept up in the embrace of darkness. The light couldn’t touch him where he stood shielded by night.

“Why don’t we go to my place?” you offered, inching a step closer. When he didn’t retreat, you gathered his hand into your own. While he didn’t pull away again, you could feel the reluctance in his grip, the rigidity in his stance. “I can make dinner and we'll throw on a movie, okay? Let’s just get out of here.”

Your right hand slid along the side of his face, cupping at his cheek. He usually leaned into the touch, pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. Instead, the most he could force out was a tight-lipped smile that did not touch his eyes. You could practically feel how hard he was clenching his jaw, the muscle tired and aching. Still, he nodded.

As you led him out the back exit of the VA, you glanced behind you to see Rollins sitting on the floor, nursing a bloody nose as a police officer stood over him, jotting down notes as he spoke with Steve. Sam caught your eye for a second, nodding in your direction. A relief washed through you and you tugged Bucky outside before anyone could notice him slip out.

It was silent the whole walk to your apartment. It wasn’t entirely unusual, but it was the first time the air carried a lingering sense of discomfort in it. You wondered what was going on in Bucky’s head, how badly he’d construed whatever Rollins had said to him, even before you arrived. Sam had told you of Bucky’s self-destructive habit of carrying guilt far heavier than he could carry, guilt that didn’t belong to him. He seemed to welcome it like it was made for him. He didn’t mind if it ripped him apart and left him broken and empty when it was done. He seemed to think it was what he deserved.

You squeezed his hand, hoping it might draw back a sense of comfort, but he kept his eyes forward on the empty streets ahead. His hand was little more than limp in your hold.

***

Bucky was just on the edge of sleep when it began to creep up on him. Slow at first, and then, sudden, in violent flashes.

Sweltering heat. The low rumble of a jeep. An infectious laugh on his left and the cold compress of a gun in his hands. A sudden stop.

Bucky gritted his teeth, trying to turn away from the images attempting to draw him under, to sweep him beyond the current, to drown him in the darkest parts of the depth. But the riptide caught hold of his leg and forced him underwater.

Heavy equipment on his back. Sand under his feet. The sun blinding in his eyes.

He swallowed, but his throat was lined in rust. It burned. He couldn’t breathe.

A reflection over a valley. Someone shouting. Screaming. Warning. Frantic.

The kid. Get to the kid!

Then – the heat of a fire scorching his skin. Ringing in his ears. Muffled. Agonizing silence. Blood on the sand, on his shoes, dripping down his side and soaking into his uniform.

Pain. So much pain. So much pain. So much—

Bucky’s eyes shot open. He sucked in a breath of air and it came in short and shallow, barely filling his lungs, and he was panting for more. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, gasping for breath until he took enough in that the dizziness started to subside. His forehead was lined in sweat, his right hand shaking uncontrollably as he gripped at the sheets.

It was as mild as it’s ever been – the nightmares. Usually, he woke up screaming, his voice so raw it ached until morning. He thrashed and kicked and drew blood until something finally jarred him awake. He’d broken the lamp beside his bed four times in the weeks after he came home. It was violent and messy, and it was a damn miracle he’d only felt a sliver of it tonight.

But it had been so long since he had one. He almost thought they had finally released him from their hold before Rollins showed up. For a while, they let him be happy. He should have known better than to expect it to last.

The mattress dipped slightly behind him and with a sharp hilt, Bucky suddenly remembered where he was.

He turned over his shoulder to find you laying on the bed beside him, hair cast up and around you against the pillow, eyes closed, the steady rhythm of your breaths indicating you were still fast asleep. He stilled for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the light scrunch in your nose.

You’d tried so hard to get him to smile the whole evening after what happened at the VA. Constant touches to his cheeks, along his arm, playing absentmindedly with his hand. You made him dinner and curled up against him as you put on a movie that you were certain would turn his mood around, but he remained stoic and cold until you finally resigned to the bedroom.

He could tell how exhausted you were. Even reaching for his hand, there was a helplessness in your grasp, but you’d begged him to stay, insisting you didn’t want him to be alone after what happened at the VA. You held him tight to your chest, told him over and over again that you didn’t care what Rollins said, you knew he was a good man and that was all that mattered.

Bucky wanted so badly to believe that.

But here you were – so beautiful, a light, something good in his life he didn’t deserve.

Sam would kill him for giving into those thoughts again, but all he had in his head was violence and agony and there you were – so peaceful and soft and kind. He'd taint you with all the mess threatening to break through his seams. He’d hurt you. He'd break you. You couldn’t hold him together no matter how hard you tried. He didn’t deserve such kindness. Today reminded him of that.

Bucky leaned in and pressed a short kiss to your temple. It was feather light and still, you sighed in your sleep. He tried not to notice when the corners of your lips curved up into a smile.

Then, he crept out of the room, stealing one last look at you as you turned onto your side, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Something tugged inside his chest, begging him to stay. He could feel it pushing him back toward the bed, to your embrace and the comfort it brought, but he turned his back. He ignored his every instinct to return to your side and dragged his feet of the bedroom instead.

Despite his reluctance, he found himself lingering on the photograph in your hallway of the Air Force pilot; sandy blonde hair, a tight-lipped smile, features that made him look younger than he probably was. A pang of jealousy wretched into his stomach at the sight of this nameless man. Shame quickly followed.

You never spoke of the man in the photo – the nameless Air Force pilot who stood at your side in front of your parents. The way you pressed out a smile despite your tears, the position of your stance angled closer to the pilot as if to preserve your last remaining moments together, made Bucky question what had happened to this man. This was clearly a man you had loved. Might still love.

Bucky didn’t dare allow himself to wonder if he had ever measured up. He supposed now he would not get the chance.

Bucky let out a sigh as he turned away from the picture. He made it all the way to the door before he heard the squeak of the floor boards behind him.

“Bucky?”

Sleep was still etched in your voice. You yawned as you folded your arms, squinting at him to adjust to the dim light in the kitchen. Bucky clenched his jaw, reluctantly turning to face you.

“It’s the middle of the night,” you said, eyes flickering to the clock above the stove. It was then you must have noticed the jacket draped over his shoulders, boots on his feet, hand begrudgingly releasing the door knob. Your face fell. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t know what to say. Was there an easy way to break your heart? Was there any excuse that could allow both of you to walk away from this unharmed? There was no good answer, but his silence certainly was worse.

“Bucky?” you tried again and he could hear the inflection of concern etched into your tone. You took a step closer to him and he held himself firm. He was stone now. It was what he had to be.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered out, voice low, though he met your eye. “I can’t do this.”

If you were still half asleep a moment ago, you weren’t anymore. Your eyes widened, lips parting. Your arms fell down to your sides.

“What... What are you talking about?” you exhaled, barely above a whisper. He could hear the hurt in your voice, the confusion, and he hated himself for it. You stepped closer, reaching out for his hand. “Please, just come back to bed. You look like you haven't slept for—”

Bucky pulled his hand away the moment you touched his fingers. It forced a hitch in your breath, a step back. You hadn’t expected him to recoil from you like that. Two times in the same day. You were losing him, the realization clear in your eyes. He was slipping and he would not take the tether as you threw it to him.

“This is about what that man said at the VA, isn’t it?” you asked timidly, your lip quivering. You shook your head, trying to hold back tears though Bucky could practically hear the tension from the lump in your throat. “He was... he was just being cruel. I don’t believe a word of it. And neither does Sam or Steve – the people that love you, Bucky. Don’t give in into him. Don’t let him win.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, rendering his reaction colder than you deserved.

You reached out for him again, a habit, though you pulled your hand back to your chest before you could touch him. It was shaking.

“Honey, please,” you tried again, unwilling to give up on him like you should. “Come get some rest and maybe you’ll feel better in the morning. Just... don’t go. Don’t be alone with this.”

You were begging. He could hear it in your voice. The desperation. And still—Bucky offered you nothing in return.

He sank so far inside himself you couldn’t reach beyond the cliffside to offer your hand. All it took was a single push. He was already standing so close to the edge. Rollins had set a hand on his back, like an old friend, like an enemy, and shoved. Bucky didn’t even try to catch his fall.

“Whatever this is...” Bucky murmured and eyes focused down at the tile, unable to look at you as he broke your heart, “it’s over.”

His heart was splintering as he said it and still, he turned and left without another word. He didn’t wait for your response, didn’t wait to see whether his cruelty had ended in tears, and closed the door behind him. You didn’t attempt to follow.

You’d understand eventually, he convinced himself. Even a woman as compassionate and loving as you couldn't possibly love a man so broken, with jagged edges and open wounds, with shards of glass embedded inside him and poison in his touch. Empty and hollow. Broken.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

wait on {din djarin x reader}

summary: boba fett is a good therapist, and din djarin is spectacular at being nosey. the result? a much needed conversation. perhaps there’s a silver lining. {kinda based on this song}

warnings: angst, language, swearing, s2 spoilers

this one hurts a lil bit but i promise the ending is happy. enjoy!!

-jazz

The air between you was thick, not unlike the beskar that the Mandalorian was wearing.

It was funny, really, because you’d never minded the armour all that much before. Your ability to see straight through it and see Din Djarin for what he really was had been what made him fall in love with you, and you with him. Now, it felt like a barrier between you. Inches of thick metal and fabric, shielding him from the world around him. From you. The one person he usually held closest to his heart; the one person he’d let see his face for the first time in years. The man was hardly a conversationalist at the best of times but he’d opened up to you. Shared his world with you and intertwined it with yours. Built something with you that you'd both protect with your lives.

Now, he was straying away. Forever attached by an invisible string, but with galaxies and galaxies between you. Even though he was mere inches from you, sat two seats over, there was a chilly air; if your relationship was a warm, welcoming house, the atmosphere he’d plunged you both into was the cold winter’s night on the other side of the glass. You wanted to go back, to drag him inside and slam and bolt the door behind you. Instead, you were forced to watch through the windows, knowing what was there but never quite truly getting close enough to let it envelope you.

You couldn’t hold it against him. The last few weeks had been rough on you both, and it only come to a head today. Grogu had been taken by the Imps and the Crest had been blown up before your very eyes. It was one of those times that truly and wholly showed the difference between you and Din: you sought him out and he pulled away. You’d learnt a long time ago not to follow him. You wanted to. Fuck, you wanted to, but you’d learnt the hard way that it was a bad idea.

Despite the icy silence and ache for your kidnapped toad son, you were still grateful for the fact Boba Fett had offered his ship as transport and shelter. You weren’t entirely sure what his deal was, but Din seemed to trust him, and so by extension, you did too. Things were a little cramped in the hull of the ship, but there was a spare sleeping quarters for you and the Mandalorian to squish into, assuming he’d let you. You didn’t want to ask him, because you were scared of the answer.

Instead, you found yourself sat out on the dusty plains of...wherever the hell you were. Boba had parked the ship up overnight so that you could rest; it seemed to be some kind of desert planet. Not too different to Nevarro or Tatooine, but perhaps a little colder. The sky had long faded to black, casting a darkness over the sandy plains ahead of you. The chilly air was a welcome contrast against the stuffiness of the bedroom - it wasn’t even hot in there, just filled with some kind of inexplicable tension. And not the sexy kind; the regular, all-consuming type. You could feel it slowly etching into your frontal lobe, sinking in its claws and giving you a stress head-ache. Letting out a few deep breaths, you let the gusts of cold wind blow over your bare arms.

‘A little cold out here, isn’t it?’

The voice was gravelly and unfamiliar, but one that you knew belonged to Boba Fett.

‘Yeah, maybe.’ You didn’t turn around to look, instead letting your eyes stay focused on the distance. There was nothing ahead. Just darkness and sand. ‘Fresh air is nice, though.’

‘Or maybe the air inside is bad.’ He countered. Boba took a seat on the rock beside you, jokingly whacking his knee against yours. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Just...what happened today, I suppose.’ You replied. ‘We lost the kid, and our ship.’

‘You’re handling it better than your Mandalorian.’ He replied.

‘I don’t think he’s my Mandalorian.’ You snorted. ‘He’s just...he doesn’t normally deal with so much at once. I think he just needs time to process it all, you know?’

‘Perhaps.’ Boba said. ‘And do you always make excuses for him?’

‘I beg your sweet pardon?’ You turned to look at him.

‘Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I’ve always been an observant man.’ He began. ‘I saw how you immediately went to him, to check on him, and how you fought beside him, yet he’s barely even looked at you.’

‘Ouch.’ You muttered. ‘You might be observant you but certainly do not tread lightly.’

‘My apologies.’ He curtly nodded.

‘It’s not always been like this.’ Your words felt forced. You were making excuses. ‘And it won’t always be.’

‘You know him better than anyone, or so I assume.’ Boba reminded you. ‘But don’t be afraid to remind him what he has, despite what he’s lost.’

He was right. Din could be distant, and he could be fucking ignorant without even trying, but you hadn’t strayed from his side once. Not for a second. It could be frustrating to deal, with but you loved him with your whole being, in a soul-consuming sorta way, and you knew he was capable of coming around. Your mother had always preached songs of love being patient and kind but as you saw it, it was frustrating, and at times the most inconvenient thing in the world. You must have had the patience of a saint to deal with him. He was just lucky he made it worth it (and that underneath all the armour, he wasn’t too bad to look at. It certainly helped his case).

You let out a sad laugh. ‘I couldn’t. Di - Mando already struggles to express his feelings and I’d only make it worst if I said he wasn’t doing it well enough.’

‘You know your worth.’ Boba said. ‘Only you can decide if he appreciates it enough.’

‘He does.’ You quickly replied. ‘I know he does.’

He gave you a doubtful look, one that said I think you’re bullshitting, but I won’t disagree. He was simply sharing his observations, even if they were a little much. But the man hadn’t had any proper social interaction for a long time, so you could hardly blame him - and he had a sort of wise air to him, like he’d been round the block a couple times. He certainly seemed like the sort of person you should listen to.

‘I’ll leave you with this: the life of a Mandalorian is complicated.’ He dusted off his knees, before standing up. ‘You should make sure it’s worth it before you fully commit.’

‘I-’ you tried to speak, but you were cut off by the sound of a twig snapping under someone’s boot. Why the fuck were there twigs in the desert? More to the point, why was that your immediate thought?

You both sharply turned around, coming face-to-face with a Mandalorian. Not a Mandalorian, but the Mandalorian. The one you’d just been talking about. The one whose heart would have been broken into a million tiny pieces if he’d even a word of what you just said. And, from the way his helmet tilted ever so slightly to the left, you figured he’d heard more than enough. Fuck.

'Don’t let me stop you.’ His modulated voice wavered ever so slightly. ‘I’ll see you inside.’

He turned on his heel, heavy steps taking him back towards the Slave I. To anyone else, his body language hadn’t changed, but you could read him like a book. A complicated book, and one that was missing more than half its pages and was in a dozen different fucking languages, but one you’d read a thousand times. Understanding Din Djarin was hard, and you’d only just begun - barely touched the surface in fact - but it was more than anyone else could say.

‘Wait!’ You leapt up, almost comically falling over as you rushed after him.

Sensing that his presence was probably not welcome, Boba returned to his seat on the rock, silently hoping that Fennec Shand was either a) asleep, or b) had enough common sense to stay the fuck out of the way of whatever was about to go down.

‘I swear to maker if you shut that door -’ you were cut off by...the door shutting in your face. Djarin: 1. You: 0.

You let out a small groan, slamming your fist against it.

‘Okay, maybe I deserved that.’ You quietly muttered. ‘But will you please listen to me?’

Silence.

‘Fine.’ You splayed your fingers out against the metal. ‘Ice me out, Din Djarin. I’m more than used to it by now.’

There was a gruff hmm from the other side of the door. Had he really just taken offence to that?

‘It’s funny, really.’ You continued. ‘Because the part of that conversation you didn’t hear was me defending you. Like I always fucking do, because I know that despite everything, you’re a human being and you love me.’

There was a small thud, as though Din had placed his hand in a similar position to yours.

‘But Boba has a point.’ Your voice fell to a whisper. ‘I keep giving and I get nothing back. Instead of letting me in, you just shut me out and I know you’re upset at what he said but for the love of everything holy in this shitty world, do not prove him right.’

It was a risky ultimatum, and not one you’d seen coming. Your chest had tightened as soon as the words left your mouth, because you knew that if Din stayed silent, that was it. You’d have to let him go; to accept that you would never get back what you putting in. Before, you were able to convince yourself that you were okay with that but maybe, just maybe you weren’t. Waiting around for something that had no guarantee of happening was like beating a dead horse that had no guarantee of coming back to life. The only thing that was promised was emotional exhaustion and then eventual death. You would have liked to have found something between those two waypoints - whether Din Djarin could be the one to give it to you? You didn’t know.

After a moment of silence, the door finally opened, and you came face to face with him. Like actually face to face with him; no helmet, no armour. Just a loose tunic and tired brown eyes, matched with lazily-shaven facial hair and knitted brows. That was Din. Your Din.

‘Can I just...can I just talk for a moment?’ He asked. ‘I have something to say and I want to get it right.’

‘Of course.’ You nodded.

‘I’m not hurt by what you said.’ He stated. ‘I know I don’t show you enough love and it hurts that I don’t know how, but I am trying. I promise you that much.’

You gave him a tearful smile. ‘Yeah, I know.’

‘I just wish that you could say it to me and not to him.’ He murmured. ‘I don’t want you to hold back on anything, ever. You can always come to me. Even if it’s about me.’

‘I get that.’ Your eyes fell to the floor. ‘It’s just that I know you’re trying your best and I’m scared you’ll think that your best isn’t enough.’

‘It’s not.’ Din’s words took you by surprise. ‘It’s not enough, but one day, I hope it will be.’

‘I don’t know what to say, because if I deny it-’

‘- you don’t have to say anything.’ He cut you off. ‘I want to give you the world. And I will, if you’ll be patient with me.’

You took every word as gospel as he said it. The Mandalorian was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. And to his credit, every promise he’d made to you before, he’d delivered on. You didn’t doubt for a second that this one would be the same. It wasn’t even naivety or wishful thinking.

‘I mean, I’ve come this far.’ You tried to crack a joke. You finally looked up from the floor, his brown eyes meeting yours.

‘I love you.’ He took your hands in his, words firm. ‘That’s all I can give you right now. I’m sorry.’

‘Din.’ The words barely come out as a whisper. ‘Never apologise. Please never apologise. I just...it’s nice to hear it, you know? A little more often than every time you almost die.’

‘Are the words enough on their own?’

‘Yes.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘Because I know you mean them.’

Din wrapped his arms you, pulling you tightly against his chest. It was warm and soft, miles away from the cold armour that so often greeted you. He held you tightly and with a new kind of might you were previously yet to experience, clinging onto you as though it were the last time. It wasn’t - it was far from the last time. Rather, it was the first time. The first time that he’d spoken of a future with you, or fully promised himself to you. You knew you would get there one day. You’d just needed him to say it himself before you could believe it.

Din Djarin was giving you tiny little pieces on himself each day, and one day, you would have all of him.

tags: @meshlababy @bo-kryze @poestardust @aqueencomplexx @princessxkenobi @cosmic-rich @captn-andor @buttercup--bee @maharani-radha @kat-r-in

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin angst #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian imagines #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian angst #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #star wars angst #mandalorian fan fiction #din djarin fan fiction

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luna-the-moth · 3 years

Text

Lucifer, Leviathan, and Satan with a Plant-Loving S/O (SFW)

I accidentally deleted the ask, but here’s what was requested: @hey-its-spades : Hello! For Levi, Lucifer, and Satan if you dont mind uwu . Mc has a knack for plants and has taken it upon themselves to put plants everywhere. ( hanging from ceilings,crawling ivy on outside walls,in the kitchen, library, even luci's study.) All the rooms look a liytle greener and None of them say anything but the student body is saying that it makes the old place look alive and home-y. It makes mc really happy.

Oh I adore this ask! SFW, with a GN! reader. I’m assuming by student body you mean the HoL residents? Since almost nobody outside the household residents visit there. I got really carried away with Levi and the Lucifer angst as well-

My vampire poll for the OM characters

My ask box is open, but please read my rules and guidelines before requesting! Please send them in my ask box, as I can keep track of requests better. Reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Lucifer, Leviathan, and Satan with a Plant-Loving Reader (SFW)

Prologue/basics for all of them:

Ever since you came to the HoL, you decided that it was too....lifeless.

Sure, there were bright candles lighting the halls, but the house was devoid of any life, besides the brothers and Henry.

So you took it upon yourself to decorate, of course!

While many human world plants didn’t fare well in the Devildom due to the poor soil quality, Lord Diavolo had agreed to bring you enchanted soil, guaranteed to grow any plant.

Regardless of temperature or sunlight needs, whatever plant grew in that soil would flourish to its upmost potential.

Asmo had a great deal of amusement with you decorating, advising you on what colors would fit specific areas of the household, and what species of flowers would bring beautiful symbolism as well.

In the house’s entryway, you left a pair of Strelitzia nicolai (giant bird of paradise) plants, as they added a subtle flair.

With long, stemmed leaves, it contributed a touch of elegance and flair.

On the a few windowsills, you had placed Begonia rex-coltorum (Rex begonias), their dark, vivid, colors standing out.

You had planted crawling ivy on the outside walls, making the house seem more inviting.

Lucifer:

Lucifer hadn’t minded your redecoration, as it had matched well with the house’s aesthetic, adding to the beauty.

In fact, he had quite enjoyed seeing you pore over catalogues and books, deciding which one would fit the space best.

Over the next few weeks, he watched as the House of Lamentation became brighter, more colorful.

It was a nice change, he thought.

However, he was surprised when he had woken up in his study, rose bushes in the corners of his study.

Deep, red roses greeted him as he surveyed his study with a pleased smile.

It was no secret Lucifer adored roses, and he was appalled when he had first arrived in the Devildom, as the soil quality was so poor, it could hardly grow anything.

Which meant he couldn’t grow roses, one of his favorite flowers.

The fact that you had thought about him, and wanted to gift him such a beautiful display, greatly moved the stoic demon.

Making his way to one of the bushes, he took off his gloves and knelt down on one knee.

The soft, sweet fragrance immersed his senses, filling him with memories of laughter, smiles, serenity, and Lilith.

Roses were her favorite flower.

As the memories flooded his mind, Lucifer suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of longing, and his vision became blurred.

He remembered the way Lilith used to brighten up when helping him with his garden, an eager grin ever-present on her face.

The way she would make him a colorful bouquet of roses whenever Michael had given him more stressful tasks than usual.

He quickly wiped a stray tear that had fallen from one of his eyes, and calmed himself.

Taking one of the velvety flowers in his hand, Lucifer gently brought his lips to the flower head, leaving a soft kiss, almost as if it was Lilith’s forehead.

The next time you went over to his study for some tea, he brought you into his arms, bringing you close to him.

Kissing your cheek, he lets a small smile break through his usually-serious facade.

“Thank you for the roses, my love. They compliment my study’s aesthetic nicely.”

Placing a small kiss on your neck, he smirked.

“Perhaps I can thank you with a date tonight?”

Leviathan:

Levi actively enjoyed watching you redecorate the HoL.

It was like one of his favorite games, The Grims! (Yes that was a terrible pun for The Sims.)

He had listened with interest as you went off on the best plants that would fit his aesthetic, and would match well with water.

What caught his attention, was when you brought up the topic of bio luminescent plants.

Of course, they weren’t naturally grown in the human world, but scientists had recently found a way to genetically modify tobacco plants.

In doing so, they had spliced the genes with four fungus genes related to bio luminescence, then carefully cultivated them.

From a seedling to maturity, the plants presented a small glow, visible to the naked eye.

The gene modification had no harmful effects on the plants, and the only difference between the lab-modified plants and wild plants, were height.

The entire time you had explained the plant’s origins passionately, Levi sat in awe, watching as you had gestured your hands in an excited fashion.

So this is what you meant when you had said you enjoyed him being so passionate about an anime or game.

At first, Levi had thought you were merely exaggerating to cheer him up, but as he looks at you now, eyes shining with delight, he understood.

You decided that since you were decorating the HoL, you would decorate Levi’s room as well.

You didn’t have access to the bio-luminescent plants, but you decorated his rooms to the nines nonetheless.

So, you had pooled together your money and resources, to create a mini lily pond for him!

You had miraculously gotten him out of the house, for a cosplay con, in which you had ‘accidentally’ forgotten to buy yourself a ticket.

Which we all know is a lie, you had just not bought one for yourself in order to stay at home, assembling the pond with Solomon’s help.

It was small, enough to fit around 6-7 lily pads/lotuses.

You had carefully grown the lily pads in your room, watching as they eventually bloomed into light, almost ethereal flowers.

By the time Levi came home, you had just finished cleaning up, getting the mud washed from your hands and arms.

Upon seeing the lily pond, Levi’s eyes were wide with amazement and shock.

You created and did this, for him?

Absolutely sets down his handfuls of merch, (gently, mind you) and silently steps over to you.

He does his best to hug you like in anime, wanting you to know how much he appreciates this.

Yes, it may be awkward, but it warms your heart knowing that he stepped out of his comfort zone, just to thank you.

He’s too embarrassed to say it while looking at you, but you can hear his voice as he rests his head against yours.

As he pulls away, a blush is evident on his face, his head turned to the side as he awkwardly places his hand against the back of his neck.

“T-thank you, Y/n. It’s a b-beautiful lily pond.”

Satan:

He fully supported your botanical excursion

After all, he’s always had an affinity for plants.

Whether it be for potions, poisons, or mere decor, Satan had a green thumb, through and through.

If his room weren’t full of books, scriptures, and all sorts of literature, he’d fill it with various plants.

So when you had announced that you were going to re-decorate the HoL with various flora, he was buzzing with excitement.

He gathered every human botanical book he knew of, and started leaving them for you on your desk.

Within a week, you had stacks upon stacks of books, knowledge ready at your disposal.

And so you began to research.

Satan was considerate to leave footnotes in a few of them, like what type would pair well with what color schemes, etc.

You smiled while reading through them, seeing Satan’s elegant handwritten flow across the pages.

Within a few weeks, you had skimmed through the books, thoroughly reading a handful of them.

After ordering the plants you wanted on Azukon, (courtesy of Lord Diavolo’s credit card-) you were eagerly anticipating their arrival.

Especially because a few ‘special items’ were in the package.

After all, you wanted to thank Satan properly for his help.

When the various flora arrived, you had carefully cultivated each of them, encouraging their growth.

Satan had assisted you, monitoring their progress, and making sure none of his brothers ruined them.

The following weekend, Satan had a student council meeting planned, as did the rest of the brothers.

Which left you with the perfect opportunity to set up Satan’s gifts.

In his room, you had placed Senecio rowleyanus (string of pearls) plants, their bright green globes spilling over the bookshelves.

Along with that, were lavender candles, with dried lavender crushed inside.

After all, Satan had always (usually) been the most level-headed out of his brothers, despite his title.

He’s much more than the avatar of wrath, and has gone through painstaking time and trials to overcome that.

That’s why you had picked lavender, which without a doubt, would be noticed by Satan.

When he had come back from the meeting, he was already in a pissy mood, as things didn’t go as planned, ending in an argument between the brothers.

However, when he stepped into his room, seeing lavender candles lit, and garlands of plants over the bookshelves, he immediately broke out in a smile.

A real, genuine smile.

Seeing you sitting on his bed, lavender candles lit, plant garlands stringing down from the bookshelves, it was almost like one of the romance novels he had read...

Quickly, he scooped you up in his arms, spinning you until you were laughing for him to stop.

Finally setting you down to gently kabeddon you, he playfully kisses the corner of your lips.

“Thank you my love, these are absolutely beautiful. I shall preserve these for all eternity.”

#my writing #obey me #obey me fluff #obey me x reader #obey me x reader fluff #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me scenario #obey me headcanon #obey me angst

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homoose · 3 years

Text

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x reader)

Summary: Reader tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave for being my beta the past two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week.

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up.

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Y/N’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner.

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Y/N never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Y/N was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now.

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again.

No new messages.

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something.

…

Y/N dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him.

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag.

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left.

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling.

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper.

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath.

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Y/N breathed.

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.”

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Y/N laughed wetly. “Oh my god , mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted.

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Y/N ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Y/N admitted, tears spilling over her lash line.

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost 40 years.”

Y/N heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.”

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf.

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?”

Y/N dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled.

Y/N closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Y/N swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Y/N could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Y/N’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Y/N.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered.

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Y/N heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.”

Y/N listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.”

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Y/N the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes.

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response.

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his.

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on.

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.”

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done.

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.”

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way.

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. ��I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long?

“And then I met you, and you…” Y/N let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough?

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted.

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too.

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself.

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.”

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air.

“Y/N, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.”

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Y/N nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath.

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.”

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again.

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Y/N. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes. “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his skin. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head.

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.”

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.”

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself.

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice.

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered.

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

Y/N took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes tracked the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman— and smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast, and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple.”

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Y/N.

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.”

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane that I stayed with him for five years, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was... that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on— when someone tells you you’re nothing… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now.

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I’ve had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been able to recognize the moments when I’m falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there , and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no .” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and over his heart. “And then he just— left . And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but then you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Y/N dissolved back into the couch, an unwelcome indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.”

She gave him a weary nod, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.”

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check and find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.”

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with her.

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.”

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.”

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you... I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered.

“Agree to disagree.”

———

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