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clairecrive · 4 years ago

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"it’s been months since we broke up and i just found one of your old sweatshirts in my wardrobe and it’s making me miss you" nikolai x reader with a happy ending pls?

A/n: I can't help myself but give my best man a happy ending, sorry not sorry. Hope you like it x

Warnings: angst, confrontation, happy ending

Word count: 2K

Tags: @jupiterandbutterflies, @agentsofshield, @for-bebbanburg, @randomoutsiders, @pansysgirlfriend, @hannaxmaria, @vintagebitc, @story-scribbler, @crowssixof, @odetostep, @lizzie-he4rts, @korol-lantsov, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @gallysonegoodlung, @a-c-lee, @mriddlemethis (tag list form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

A knock on the door in the middle of the night wasn't something you were expecting to happen. Merely because you were not expecting anyone. Even though, to be fair, it wasn't that late. And considering how everyone's so busy these days, with the Darkling threat looming over your heads, everyone is required to put in some work to plan a strategy that will assure our victory. Or at least, to contain the damage that surely the Shadow Summoner had planned to inflict upon those who had betrayed him.

Sleep was a luxury these days, so really, you shouldn't have been surprised by someone calling for you. Sighing, you walked to the door wrapping your robe around your body.

When your eyes fell onto the person behind the door, you froze. Now this, was a surprise.

You definitely weren't expecting your ex-boyfriend to knock on your door in the middle of the night a month after your break up.

"Nikolai?" the surprise was clear in your voice as well as weariness. If he was here that meant that something terrible must have happened.

"Were you sleeping?" he shuffled on his feet. As if seeing at your door after all this time wasn't baffling enough, his insecurity certainly was.

You shook your head. "Has something happened?"

"Yes," he said rolling his shoulders back. You stood taller as well, bracing for the bad news. "it’s been months since we broke up and I just found one of your old sweatshirts in my wardrobe and it’s making me miss you," he added and pulled something from behind his back.

It was your sweatshirt indeed, one of your favourites, certainly the most comfortable one. One that you usually used to sleep but it was also the one that you had left in his rooms. The break-up had been sudden in the sense that it had been a long time in the making but the bubble had broken abruptly, leaving you no time to retrieve your stuff.

Well, you could have gone to him and ask for your things but you had spent the last month trying to avoid him.

"Nikolai-" now your words were tentative, a slight warning in them. There was a reason why things had ended, after all.

"No, please, just hear me out." There was no insecurity in his voice anymore, nor in his body language. You knew the man in front of him, painfully aware of how stubborn he was. And the truth was that you had missed him too. Being so close to him and yet so far away had been one of the hardest things you had to do.

So you relented. With a nod, you let him in your room.

You closed the door and when you turned around you saw him sitting on your bed. You took a couple of step towards him but decided to stand at a safe distance from him. Nikolai's eyes were on you and you shifted on your feet under his gaze.

"What's there left to say?" You spoke since he didn't. His presence was unnerving enough on its own, embarrassing silence wasn't a surplus you needed.

"I'm aware of why we broke up, what you think. But I need you to know that it was a huge misunderstanding." He said, squaring his shoulders.

You scoffed, crossing your arms on your chest. "Really? And you waited a month to clear the air?"

"It wouldn't have been fair to you for me to have this conversation before." He stated as if he was during one of his diplomatic meetings.

"Because all this time, you've still been flirting with her."

"I wouldn't put it like that..." He slightly grimaced, his eyes leaving yours for the first time to move to his hands.

"Courting, wooing, pursuing, whatever Nikolai. I don't care how you'd put it. I don't care about what you do with her either." Gesturing with your hands, you sneered at his audacity. He wasn't going to get out of this on semantics. Nonetheless, it was over and you didn't want to show just how aggravated seeing him with Alina made you. "It's none of my business." You shook your head and moved towards your window, giving him your back.

"Well, maybe you don't care but I do. Maybe what I have to tell you won't change a thing but I need to at least try." He raised his voice, frustration clear in his words for your attitude. But you couldn't care less, you had just started. "Because this past month without you has been hell and I don't want to spend another day without you." His voice trembled a bit at the end and you knew that it wasn't easy for him to be this vulnerable with you.

"Don't tell Alina that." You teased him in a neutral tone. Back still to him.

"Alina doesn't care, y/n. And neither do I."

"Could have me fooled."

"It would have been a political union." Frustrated, he pointed out. You turned around this time, scoffing at the implicit insult.

"That much I had guessed, Nikolai." You weren't stupid. And you knew Nikolai. As soon as the first wave of pain and betrayal passed, you realized that it must have been a strategic move on his part. Not that it made anything better.

"You...did?" He almost stammered, eyes widening in surprise.

"Of course," you sighed, "but it doesn't make anything better. So if this is all you had to say, I'm afraid it doesn't change anything."

"But- it changes everything. I don't love Alina, I never have." He insisted, standing up from the bed and taking a step in your direction.

"You would have still married her though, wouldn't you?" You pointed out with a rhetorical question that he still felt like answering.

"Well, I-"

"And you didn't tell me anything, did you?" You continued this time without giving him time to speak. "So yes, maybe you didn't love her. Maybe you loved me but would that matter once you were married to her?"

"I'll tell you: no it wouldn't have. Because as much as I loved you, I wouldn't have let you made me your mistress. And you and Alina are good friends, I'm sure you'd grow to love her with time." Your voice has hardened, failing at carelessly exposing an eventual love blooming between them. But Nikolai didn't notice. He was still at the second sentence.

"Loved?"He whispered. Past tense.

"Did you expect me to hold a torch forever?" Your voice softened at his reaction but still- you weren't going to be around forever. He had made his choice, after all.

"Of course not," Nikolai mumbled as he sat down on the bed again and looked down at your sweatshirt still in his hands. You couldn't see his face and you knew that it was a deliberate move. Never had you seen him to defeated and crestfallen. His shoulders slumped, his fingers fisted the material in his hands.

Sighing, you closed the distance between you and sat beside him on the bed. Maybe you had been too harsh but it was an instinct for you to be so defensive. Even though his betrayal had hurt you immensely, hurting him back was never your intention.

"I don't think I could ever stop loving you." You whispered. Eyes latched on your fumbling fingers, you heave a sigh. This felt like the confession it was.

"But you can't expect me to be fine just because you explained Nikolai. It doesn't excuse the lies or the betrayal." You continued, wanting him to understand. Now that everything was out in the open, it was best to speak heart to heart.

"Indeed it doesn't. And I'm sorry I've hurt you, it was never my intention." He agreed and apologised but you shook your head. What good was it an apology now? It wasn't a matter of forgiveness anymore. There was now a lack of trust and you didn't know how to handle it.

"How do you think I would have reacted? What if she said yes, uh? What then, Nikolai? Would an "I love you" fix everything?" Speaking no matter the lump of your throat, you turned to face him. His eyes were already on you. They were glossy and one of his hands reached out to yours to hold it.

"I knew she was going to say no. And I knew that it was a low move on my part considering that you're my whole heart but I couldn't have lived with myself if I didn't at least try," he confessed. You nodded because you knew how much he cared for Ravka's future and having Alina on the throne would no doubt have a positive impact on all fronts.

"Because having her on the throne would have been advantageous for us, for Ravka. It would benefit us in so many ways that I had to try, at least. No matter the sacrifice." The last word came out as a whisper, his eyes flickering between yours and you understood the underlying message. But that was exactly the problem.

"What hurt me the most, Nikolai was that you made the decision for both of us."

"I'm not a strategist but I understand the power Alina holds. It would have still hurt but if you had told me, it would have been different." You explained as his eyes filled with an emotion that you recognized as regret.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I never wanted you to feel like you don't matter to me. Because you do. You have no idea how much you do. And I love you, I really do." His hold on your hands tightened and you were surprised to see how his lower lip trembled a bit.

"I love you too, Kolya." You confessed, unable to pretend the contrary. "But I don't know where to go from here."

"You don't owe me anything, my sweet. I wanted you to know and now you do. That's more than I deserve." One of his hands came up to caress your cheek as he gave you a small smile. You actually leaned to him, missing the touch, the closeness.

You missed him.

And yes, he had made a mistake. Yes, he had hurt you. But was it to the point of no return? To be fair, you knew that nothing had actually happened between him and Alina besides the proposal. And sure, that was certainly enough on its own but in a way that meant that it hadn't actually cheated.

He had surely betrayed your trust and lied to you. But trust could be regained. And work could be done on your relationships so as not to have these communication problems again.

The question is: were you willing to put yourself through that? Because it was not going to be easy. And there was a chance that it wasn't going to work.

His eyes boring on yours, you hoped to convey your insecurity to him. You knew he loved you. And you dearly loved him too. Maybe you could give him a second chance. If love was there maybe it was worth it to put in the effort to make it work.

Scratch that- it definitely was.

"What about what I deserve?" You whispered as your hands wrapped around his on your face.

"Everything and more, my love." His eyes flickered between yours hopefully. Trying to see if he could find the confirmation in them of what your words implied.

"Well, I think that I deserve a prince." You stated with a small smile.

"Even if he's unworthy of you?" He insisted, raising an eyebrow but mirroring your smile.

"I guess I can give him another chance to prove himself."

"He'd be most grateful, my dear. But I'm afraid he'll never deserve you." His face got closer to yours, nose almost touching. He cradled your face in his hands, his thumb stroking your cheeks.

"Enough with the charming, Kolya, I'm already yours. Come and get me." You chuckled with a roll of your eyes before eagerly tugging him closer to you.

"As you wish." He said before he kissed you. Slowly at first, almost as if he couldn't still believe that it was happening. Then with the hold on your face, he pulled you closer angling your face so as to deepen the kiss.

Your old sweatshirt laid discarded on your bedroom floor. Forgotten for the moment as you caught up on your lost time together.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov angst #nikolai lanstov imagine #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov one shot #grishaverse #shadow and bone

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Text

In Name Only - Part 20

A/N: Hello, my sunshines! We’ve come to the second to last part. I hope you and enjoy and I think this is what we’ve been waiting for... As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: none

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

One Year Later

“Sunshine?” as soon as you heard his voice, a sense of panic settled into your bones as you quickly hid the items in your hands in the trunk beneath your bed. There was just enough time to push it back under the golden frame and obscure it with the blanket before jumping to your feet.

Oberyn pushed open the door and poked his head in, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, “I was wondering where you were - the children told me they hadn’t seen you all morning save for a few moments at breakfast.”

“Indeed, they tell you the truth,” you agreed with a tight lipped smile and a raise of eyebrows, “I’ve been...quite busy.”

“Just what are you hiding, my dear wife?” he came into your shared chambers and shut the door behind him, crossing his arms over his broad chest with a look of amusement on his face. Mimicking his posture, you tried to put on a neutral expression before scoffing lightly at him.

“You are bold to assume something of that nature, dearest husband,” you swallowed the lump in your throat and tried not to steal a glance back at the trunk, “I have a household to help run, multiple children to keep after, and a husband that always seems to require my assistance. Has it ever occurred to you that I might be simply busy?"

"It has indeed," he took a step closer and rubbed his chin in mock thought, "but I also know that is not the case right now. What are you hiding, pretty girl?"

"Nothing," you insisted as he raised an eyebrow. He stepped even closer and put a finger under your chin and turned your face to meet his, "you're not playing fair now!"

"Am too," he whispered as he leaned close enough to brush his lips against yours, "it is not my fault you can't say no to me."

"Oberyn," you tried to be firm, you really did, but you were no match for your husband's charm. His large, warm hands found purchase onyour waist as he pulled flush against his body. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck as you crashed your lips against his.

And just as always, he kissed you like it was the first time, like he was still madly in love with you (he was, of course), like it was the only thing in life he craved. Kissing him always managed to be such a blissful, saccharine thing, and you never seemed to get enough, even when you were left breathless.

Reluctantly, you pulled back to catch your breath and rested your forehead against his. Oberyn, feeling ever so cheeky, stole a few more kisses, "are you going to tell me now? Come on, Sunshine."

"Nice try," you offered him one last kiss, as he playfully pouted, "you're not getting anything from me. And even if I was hiding something, my lips are sealed!"

"Sunshine-"

"Oberyn," you walked out of his delicate grasp and headed for the door, "let go of this silly notion! But for now, help me round up the children!"

"I will find out-"

"Umm…" the door to your chambers opened after a loud knock, followed by a nervous faced Asha, "I hope this isn't a bad time...I feel like I've always got the worst timing but I need you both to come with me…and before you ask, the children are all well...its ummm….just come with me. Quickly."

Exchanging a worried glance with Oberyn, you held out your hand, which he quickly took before the two of you followed after the young girl. She was practically flying to the kitchens, casting a look backwards here and there to make sure you were still following.

"Asha? Why such haste? Are you sure everything is alright?" you tightly squeezed your husband's hand as you tried to figure out what could possibly have happened. It hadn't been long since you'd left breakfast and gone to tend to your little project before Oberyn found you. It was hard to imagine what could have happened in the short amount of time.

"Its-"

Before she could another word, you could hear soft, insistent cries coming from the other end of the kitchen. Your hand fell from Oberyn’s as confusion muddled your features. He appeared just as confused and awestruck as you as the cries continued.

“A baby?” you whispered as you turned to your husband momentarily. He shrugged, suggesting that he had no clue what was going on either. Turning back to Asha, you could see had paled lightly, “is that a baby? Who's had a baby...how? When?"

“Yes,” she whispered, reaching for your arm and dragging you into the kitchen. Your eyes immediately landed on a small, golden bundle all wrapped in a basket on the counter. Some small movement came from the blankets as the cries seemed to turn to soft coos, “i-it’s a newborn, I think anyway, he’s so tiny. Someone left him outside the delivery gates a little ago.”

“A newborn babe?” you asked softly before taking a step closer, wondering if it was the right thing to do, “did anyone see anything? Was there a note? Anything at all?”

“I’m afraid not...he was by himself,” she confessed, “i-it’s not uncommon...well in other parts of the kingdoms for mothers, or parents that can’t keep their babies for whatever reason to leave the newborn babes at the homes of those more fortunate, hoping they’ll take them in or find them a better home.”

“Has this ever happened before? Here?” you turned to look at Oberyn, who simply shook his head at you, “so there’s nothing as to his origins? He’s just...alone?”

“Yes,” she answered, “I just...I panicked and I didn’t know what to do. He's so small and he's going to need someone to care for me. S-should I....should he go to the orphanage?”

“No,” you answered quickly, surprising both of them in turn as they cast curious glances at you. Oberyn was already working at suppressing the grin that threatened to erupt on his features, “not yet, anyway. M-may I see him?”

“Of course,” she bowed her head lightly before stepping to the side, “I’ll get back to my duties. When you need me, let me know and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Thank you,” Oberyn’s hand found your shoulder as you look at him with a worried expression on your face, “what’s wrong, my love?”

“Nothing,” you whispered, “not yet...it’s just...I can’t help but to worry about him....”

Walking over to the counter, you hesitantly looked into the sea of blankets and found a curious pair of brown eyes looking at you. His small pouty lips formed a blubbering smile as he flailed his little arms. A smile worked its way onto your face as Oberyn stood behind you, a hand settling on your hip, “he’s beautiful.”

“He is,” slowly, tentatively you reached hand towards him and stroked his little chubby cheek. He had a light shock of dark hair already, and you couldn’t help but think of Oberyn, “how old do you think he is?”

“I’d wager that he can’t be more than a month old,” Oberyn whispered as he looked down at the small boy, “he’s young, so small still.”

“Oberyn…” you looked at your husband with curious eyes, watching as he looked at the little boy in awe. He was still a stranger, but seemed to trust you already, as if he'd known the two of you before. His hand reached for your finger, curling around it in amusement.

“What are you thinking, Sunshine?” he whispered as he studied you in turn, “tell me.”

“I don’t want to send him to the orphanage….” you felt your eyes well up with the familiar sting of tears, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with a wash of emotions, “I...I don’t think we should.”

You looked at the small baby and your maternal instinct seemed to kick into the overdrive. You loved all of your children, and had enjoyed getting to call the twins your own for the last year, and forever more of course, but there was something about the opportunity to raise this baby that caused you some pause. It didn’t mean that you loved your children any less or anything of the sort, but it was just a different experience. Oberyn must have sensed what you were thinking because he reached up and tenderly cradled your face, stroking over your cheek, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“What if we...what if we kept him?” you whispered softly as he wiped away the tear that had pearled up and rolled down your cheek, “what if there’s a reason someone left him here - if he was meant to find us? We could raise him as our own...I know it’s a lot, Oberyn, but I think we could do it…”

“As I have always said, I’ve found that things always work out how they’re supposed to, that they play out as they were intended to,” he agreed gently, “perhaps there is a reason we were lucky enough to be the ones to find him. There is always more room in our family for another member, more than enough love to give. You are a wonderful mother, and any child would be lucky to call you theirs. I love you more than you will ever know.”

“Oberyn…” the corners of your mouth quivered in a teary eyed smile, “I love you so much. There is no one better I could have ever asked for - not a better friend, father, husband, or lover.”

He leaned in and pressed gentle kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and only stopped at your lips, gently brushing his against yours. But before you could steal a final kiss, your ears were met with a few gentle, excited sounding coos from the basket. Pausing for a moment, the two of you broke into a fit of giggles. Oberyn pressed a kiss to the side of your heading before nodding towards the baby.

Turning back to him, you slowly reached into the basket and picked him up, holding him securely in your arms before bringing him to your chest and gently rocking him. Once he calmed down and stopped squirming, you cradled him so you could get a better look at him. He was a chubby little thing, so young and new still, but his eyes were already so bright and curious. There was something about the way he looked at you and wrapped his hand around your index finger that made your heart melt and you knew that you were making the right decision.

“He’s lovely,” you said softly, “we’re going to need a name for him, Oberyn. We can’t just call him...him.”

“Priorities, priorities,” he chuckled as you stuck your tongue out at him, “I think I will leave that up to you, my Sunshine. Whatever you come up with will be perfect. Just like you and our family.”

“Not perfect,” you slowly, ever so gently, passed the baby to him, letting the Prince get to hold his new son for the first time. Ever the expert, he had the little one nestled in his arm in no time; the sight was enough to make you want to cry all over, “not perfect, but filled with a lot of love and good things. Just like this.”

“Just like this,” he agreed with a small smile, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Oh Nym - no, no, no, my love,” your eyes winded in panic as you watched your son clutch at the robe you had abandoned for a few moments. He looked back at you with wide, innocent eyes as he giggled and waved his chubby little fists. You walked back over and pulled the almost six month into your lap as you released his grasp on the fabric, “silly little one, that’s for your Papa! Can’t go on slobbering all over it just yet - that’ll be after we give it to him!”

You wrapped the delicate, silken fabrics back up before tucking them back into the trunk at the foot of the bed. After almost six months of work, six months of slow labor, your Name Day gift for Oberyn was finally ready. You were glad you’d had enough forethought to start planning for it so early and make sure you would have it ready in time. Scooping the babbling baby back into your arms, you set him on your hip as you left your chambers. The sounds of laughter and screaming children had been pouring in loudly from the gardens, and you could spy that they were setting up for Oberyn’s name day celebration.

“Let’s go find your brother and sisters,” you grinned as you kissed the top of his head; he already had a mop of curls starting that surely would rival Oberyn’s one day, “everyone should be here soon, and your Papa will be back just in time for his big celebration!"

Ever the cunning planner, you’d arranged for Doran and Oberyn to attend to business outside of Sunspear for the last couple of days. And luckily for you, Oberyn hadn’t suspected a thing; you’d never sneaked around in such a manner before and on top of it all, Doran had easily gone along with your little ploy. He’d promised to keep his lips sealed and offered to help however you needed. Luckily, between yourself, Ellaria, and all the children, it had practically been a breeze to plan it all. It was a privileged thing, you realized, to be surrounded by such love and generosity, but you always took full advantage of it all.

“Mama!” Saria’s excited voice reached your ears as soon as she ran up to you and wrapped her arms around your waist, “did you see all the people? There’s so many people all here for Papa!”

“And you, and your brothers and sisters,” you promised her, gently ruffling her dark curls, “have you all been helping getting everything set up?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded eagerly, “and so many berries and fruits! Papa always shares with me, do you think he will this time too?”

“Of course, my sweetest little bee,” you promised, “your Papa would give them all to you if that’s what you wanted. And before you ask - of course he’ll share cake with you and everyone else too!”

“Yay,” she clapped her hands as she jumped up and down.

“My love,” Ellaria smiled warmly at the two of you before putting her hands on Saria’s shoulders, “why don’t you go and find your brother and sisters and all get changed for the big party? I expect that all of you will be clean and dressed before the sun starts to set? Do you think you can do that for us?”

“Of course,” she adopted a serious expression before displaying a wide, gap toothed grin, “I’ll go and get everyone ready!”

You looked at Ellaria and offered a thankful smile before moving a silent thank you at her. She shot a quick wink before holding her arms to you to relieve you of the baby in your arms. You kissed the top of Nymeros’ dusting of curls before passing him to Ellaria.

“He grows more handsome everyday,” she cooed at him as she peppered his cheeks in kisses, “and you - more beautiful every day. Motherhood suits you, it has always suited you, sweet girl. You’ve really become the backbone of this household. Seeing how he is now, I don’t know how Oberyn survived without you.”

“I think my husband has managed quite well without me,” you laughed lightly, “I just help him remain more organized and on track. It’s not much, but I think we’ve fallen into a nice routine.”

“I’ve never seen him better than with you,” Ellaria insisted as he bounced the baby on her hip, “he’s madly in love with you, you do realize that right?”

“Ellaria...you...I’m not you, and I know it doesn’t matter, but I think about that sometimes,” you admitted softly, brushing your hand over the linen cloth on one of that tables that was slowly becoming laden with food, “not in a bad way, but I...I’ll never be you.”

“Exactly,” she simply smiled at you, putting her hand on top of yours, “that’s what he loves about you. We had many happy years together, sweet girl, and we share daughters that we love more than anything. We were in love back then, but that was a different time and we were different people back then. But you are the one he’s in love with, not me. And that’s okay, you must always remember that. His heart belongs to you, and yours to his. Just like it was meant to be. You have never seen the way he looks at you, when you’re not looking at him. I’ve never seen him look at anyone that way before. And don’t even try to argue with me - I know him better than anyone...except for you of course.”

“I love him madly as well,” you bit your lip shyly as you caught her eye, “he’s...everything to me. He’s given me so much and I can only hope to mean a fraction to him of what he means to me.”

“You mean everything to him,” she insisted softly, “trust me.”

Before you could say anything, a loud commotion wandered into the courtyard as you turned around to find Oberyn standing there with a surprised look on his face.

“Speak of the devil,” Ellaria nudged you lightly in his direction as his eyes found you, “go to him, sweet dove.”

“Oberyn,” you practically beamed as you dashed over to him, throwing yourself into his outstretched arms, “my moon and stars, you’re home!”

“Sunshine,” he grinned as he effortlessly picked you up and spun around before pressing a hungry kiss to your lips, “I’ve missed you.”

“It’s only been a few days,” you grinned at him “could you really have missed me that much?”

“Of course,” he whispered softly, “what’s all this then? So much commotion and calamity...I daresay I believe you have been up to something.��

“And you, dear husband,” you gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze,”are home much earlier than expected. Of course you’ve come along and ruined your little surprise. Ever the perfect timing, my love.”

“What surprise?” he raised his eyebrows as you sighed and nodded in jest.

“Don’t play coy with me, Oberyn Martell,” you playfully pushed him, “it’s your Name Day celebration, my love. So I suppose I should just say it now, Happy Name Day! I love you more than you will ever know.”

“You’ve planned all of this for me?” he asked in awe as you nodded lightly, “it’s just a Name Day.”

“Your Name Day,” you insisted as you grabbed the front of his lapels before kissing him deeply, “and I wanted to do something special for you. The children helped me plan it of course. They’re been eager for so long...let’s just say that we’ve been planning this for months. Forty-five is something to celebrate, Oberyn!”

“You make me sound so old,” he teased as he wrapped his arms around you and held you against him. You scoffed lightly before laughing at him as he peppered you in kisses, “I love you so much, my Sunshine. Thank you for this, truly. I couldn’t imagine anything better.”

“I would do it a million times over to see that smile, even if it would be once more,” you promised as Ellaria walked over to you. As soon as little Nym saw his father, he blubbered excitedly and made grabby hands at him. Oberyn’s face lit up as he reached for his son and clutched him tightly to his chest, but not before kissing him and cooing at him softly.

“Hello love,” Ellaria pressed a kiss to his cheek, “you’re looking well. We’ve all missed you.”

“Ellaria,” he bowed his head at her, “radiant as ever, and ever the welcome sight. Thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn’t dream of missing it,” she insisted, “we’re family, Oberyn. We always will be. Now why don’t you two go and get dressed and get ready for the celebration. I’ll handle the rest of the preparations.”

“Come on then, my little love,” he brushed his nose gently against Nym’s before reaching for your hand, “come on, my Sunshine. Let us go and get dressed. We have a party to attend it seems!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were sat at Oberyn’s right hand side, watching as everyone carried on chattering happily as they ate and drank and danced to music. It had been a long feast and the children were slowly growing tired and weary; Oberyn had Alistar and Loreza on his lap as he told them all sorts of stores, while Nym slept soundly in your arms and Dorea was on your lap. The others were running around and dancing. His hand held yours almost the entire time, fingers brushing over your soft skin, a reassuring squeeze here and there. It was a glorious thing to watch him, so animated and happy as he chatted away with the children and everyone that stopped by to bless him.

He was handsome as ever, his dark curls adorned with a simple golden circlet that glittered in the firelight, a never ending smile on his face, and a lovely twinkle in his chocolate eyes. A few times he had caught you simply staring, and mouth a quiet what? to which you’d simply responded with a small nothing. He was wearing new robes of golden and bronze, cut and tailored exactly to his proportions and complimenting him perfectly. It was hard to believe that you were just as in love with him now as you had been back when you first started falling for him.

Before the night could get too far gone, you handed the children off to Arianne, who was more than happy to be of assistance. Standing to your full height, you picked up the knife and slowly tapped against your wine goblet to make enough noise to gather everyone’s attention. It wasn’t long before all eyes turned to you and you reached for Oberyn’s hand, delicately taking it in yours. The way he looked back at you was enough to make you melt then and there.

“First of all, I want to thank you all for graciously accepting my invitation to come here and celebrate my husband’s Name Day with us,” you bowed your head slightly at the multitude of guests that were milling about the table and courtyard, “although I’m sure that no one needed an excuse to drink and have fun.”

After a bit of laughter, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to Oberyn’s soft lips; he responded as he normally did, by gently pulling you into him and letting your touch linger. After a moment, you playfully swatted his hands away, realizing that all eyes were still on you.

“Anyways,” you smirked at him, “I want to thank you all for coming and I want to give the biggest thank you of all to my husband, Oberyn Nymeros Martell. You are the love of my life, my best friend, my partner, and the best father to our children. A few years ago I could not have imagined this life - a life filled with so much laughter, love, adventure, and joy. You have given me everything I could have imagined and more. I never thought it was possible to love someone so much that it still manages to take your breath away every time - until you. I know things aren’t always perfect between us - we’re both stubborn and bullheaded at times, but there is no one else I’d rather spend my days with than you, no one I’d rather go to bed with in the evening. Thank you for loving me and letting me love you in return. And on this, the happiest of name days, I wish you nothing but happiness and many, many more to come, my moon and stars.”

By the end, you were speaking only to him, your eyes locked on yours as you spied his glistening with a few tears. He took your hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, “and to my lovely wife - a big thank you.”

“Cheers,” you raised your wine glasses and took a long drink of it. You motioned for everyone to restart their festivities as you sat back down next to him and he pulled you closer to him, “happy Name Day, my love."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"I think he's finally asleep," you whispered as you looked in the small crib that was across your chambers, where Nym was finally sleeping. He'd been fussy all evening and getting him down was a challenge, but miraculously you'd managed. Stroking his little you cheek, you grinned at him, "good night, my little love."

Oberyn was already posted up in bed, watching you with interest as you flounced back over and dove under the bed, "what are you up to?"

"I'm afraid I have one more surprise for you," you pulled the trunk out from under the bed and slowly opened. You bit the inside of your cheek before grinning at him, "its nothing much, but I hope you like it."

Standing up slowly, you displayed the sunset orange robe that you'd spent months working on. It was embroidered with golden suns and snakes, along with a few bees here and there, but the touch you cared about the most was the smallest detail. On the inside of the lapels you had sewn each of his children's names, starting from oldest to youngest.

"Sunshine," his breath hitched in his throat as he slipped out of bed and over to you, "did you make this?"

"I did," you grinned as he took the robe and gently ran his fingers over the delicate fabric, "I've been working on it for some time...you've almost caught me several times! What do you think? You don't have to wear it if you don't fancy it of course."

He quickly cut you off by pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, one hand on the back of your head as he held you close, "I love it. It's beautiful - this is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. I can't believe you'd do this all for me."

"I wanted to," you promised, "besides, what do you get a Prince that has everything? Look at the lapels...personally they’re my favorite part.”

And so he did, slowly running his finger over the dainty gold embroidery that spelled out each of his children’s names, starting with Obara and ending with Nymeros. He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat before turning back to you. His mouth opened and closed a few times before finally managed to come up with some words, “this is amazing. I will treasure this in my heart forever, just like you. I don’t think there are quite the right words to thank you for this, or adequately convey how I’m feeling.”

“A simple thank you was more than good enough,” you promised as you stroked his cheek tenderly, “I would do anything to see that smile grace your features, my love. I wanted you to have something special, just for you. I’m so glad you like it. I love you more than you know, Oberyn.”

He was silent as he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm and pulled you into him. How easily you molded against his body, just like you had been made to fit there. He rested his head on your shoulders as you played with the curls at the nape of his neck. He hummed in content as you held him, lightly swaying with him in your arms.

“I have a small surprise for you too,” he whispered when he pulled back and you offered him a lot of curiosity. This was supposed to be about him, but of course, he’d find some way to make it about you too - that was the beauty of Oberyn Martell. He gave and gave and gave and asked for so little in return.

“Oberyn! You absolutely should not have! It’s your day, not mine,” he offered up a cheeky shrug before walking back over to his bureau, gently playing down the robe, and reaching into the top drawer, quickly pulling out something that glinted brilliantly in the candle light, “Oberyn?”

“I had these made,” he opened up his large hand to display a small necklace, intricately designed from the look of the gold and silver. As you reached up to touch them, you realized it was a sun and moon, perfectly nestled together, “sun and moon - a perfect balance and harmony. When we’re together, they’ll be together, but even when we’re apart, we’ll have a piece of each other.”

“You are a fool,” you whispered as a few tears welled up in your eyes and threatened to spill over, “an absolute fool of a man. But I am madly in love with you. You had these made?”

“I did,” he laughed lightly at the sweet look on your features, “just for you - and for me.”

You ran a hand over the pendants, admiring the craftsmanship of them; they were small but so well made and it was easy to see how much love and effort went into them. When you met his eyes, he motioned for you to turn around. Knowing exactly what his intention was, you lifted your hair and let him clasp the small moon around your neck. It set perfectly, and left warm against your skin. You took the other one and repeated the motions on him, but wrapped your arms around his waist once you were finished and pressed a few kisses to the bare skin of his shoulder, “I can’t believe you did this. There are some days that I still think this must all be some sort of wild fever dream. Surely in no life did I ever do anything to deserve you.”

“I assure you, it’s all very real,” he promised, taking a hand and bring it to the spot just above his heart while you listened to its steady beating, “do you hear how it beats so? It beats only for you. Do you feel how it calls for you? My Sunshine - even on the darkest days you bring light into my life. I would do anything for you. You are my heart, my home, my family - everything.”

“Oberyn,” a few tears had rolled on his golden skin and he quickly moved to wipe them away, “I…”

“At no point did I think I would fall in love with this wild, young girl that seemed to heed no one,” he admitted as he cradled your face, “never did I expect you to love a man like me. Two very different people from different worlds, so alike and so different. But then I saw that smile and heard that laugh and I knew that I was a goner then and there. You proved yourself so kind and gentle with such an open and pure heart, so different from this hardened and weary man. But I knew I could never force anything you did not want upon you, you did not deserve that. If this had been in name only forever, then I could have lived with that, albeit less happily, but getting to call you my wife would have been a privilege either way. I do not know if words could ever be an accurate summation of exactly how much you mean to me.”

“No?” you asked softly as you looked at him with trembling lips from your efforts not to cry completely, “because they’re pretty damn good. How am I supposed to compete with that? It’s your Name Day and yet you are the one whispering such honeyed words to me. I do not...Oberyn, my love...I...every day with you, even our worst days, days we might argue or not agree on everything, are the best days because I have you by my side. You have shown me nothing but love and compassion and...everything since the day we met. I couldn’t ask the gods, the universe, whatever it is, for a better person. I will love you until the end of time, in this lifetime and the next.”

“Those words are pretty good too,” he kissed your forehead, “I mean, they could use a little tweaking, but they’ll do.”

“Oberyn!” you broke into a fit of giggles before clapping your hands in amusement, “very well, my love. You must feel very proud of yourself for that.”

“It’s up there,” he agreed, “but I meant it - every word of it.”

“I know,” you bit your lip and nodded, nuzzling your nose against his, “I know. Why don’t we-”

Before you could say anything else, the sound of a few soft cries met your ears and you both turned to look at the cradle.

“Go on into bed,” he gave your bum a pat, “I’ll get him settled down.”

“Bring him,” you insisted as you slipped under the soft blankets. Oberyn quickly made his way across the room and had Nym resting again his chest as he made his way back. While you definitely had a way with your son, Oberyn was like a magic charm; no matter how fussy or upset the baby was, he always managed to get him settled down in time.

“There we are,” he got in next, resting against the headboard as the Nym slept on his warm, tan chest, and you instantly wrapped yourself around him. It was hard to imagine that so much of your heart, so much of your world, was right there, within two people, “alright, Sunshine?”

“Yes,” you promised softly, gently resting a hand on Nym’s back, “I’m perfect.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #in name only #ino #i am so happy about this part #but i also never want to say goodbye to them!

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pan-fangirl-345 · 4 years ago

Text

On Live National Television

Prompt(s): 'Fuck you, alright? I didn’t ask to fall in love with you.' + 'Don’t say things that you don’t mean my love.' + 'Oh my god, what are you doing?' 'Will you marry me?'

@elenaoftheturks asked: Could you maybe do 7,18,45 for Shoto(bnha) with a gn or female reader(whatever you prefer)? Only if you are comfortable with it of course. (^_^)

A/N: Of course I can do that! I adore the way that your mind works elenaoftheturks, this is an amazing idea! I do have one small request of all of you though! If you want to ask me something, please send in an ask or slide into my DM's if you want me to tag you so you know when it's done! Now here's why: this is not my main blog! Because of this, I can't reply to you in the comments without it being under my main blog, which is irritating to me because I want to interact with you all! So if you could do that for me, that would be great! If you don't feel comfortable doing either of those things, then please feel free to do it in the comments, but just know that I won't be able to reply until I post the request!

TW: Mild swearing, crying (but it's happy tears)

Being pro heroes was a lot more stressful than school had led you to believe.

True, 1-A had been through more than most classes in an even shorter amount of time, but that had been short lived.

This was constant.

But you wouldn't change anything.

You were doing the thing you loved, and so were your friends, so was you boyfriend.

Though you were this close to regretting loving him at the moment.

"Do you guys remember when (Y/F/N) tried to confess to me in our second year?" Shouto asked.

His face, to every one else may have seemed impassive, indifferent, but you could read the way his calm face hide that goddamn smirk that would've been taking over if it had just been the two of you.

But it was a group interview with the entirety of the graduating class of 1-A.

Technically, it had been 3-A, but with all the media coverage of you class in you first year, everyone agreed that your class would forever be class 1-A.

"And you took it the wrong way?" Midoriya asked, laughing.

"Oh my god, I hate all of you," you muttered, hiding your face in your hands.

"What was it that she said to you when you guys started to argue?" Kirishima asked, grinning.

"I said 'Fuck you, alright? I didn’t ask to fall in love with you.' and I honestly think Shouto astral projected for a second," you said, trying to take control of the conversation, despite the way your cheeks heated with the memory. "He stared at me for a good two minutes before he even tried to say anything! And then he couldn't even form the words to say something to me! Then, of course, to make things more awkward, he burst into flames when he finally processed it."

Everyone laughed.

"There are still scorch marks on the wall of the dorms!" Kaminari added, "I saw them when I dropped by for a lecture the other day."

"Seriously?" you asked, laughing, "They didn't redo the wall or anything?"

"No! They still look fresh too!"

Everyone laughed, even Bakugou.

"One thing you never told us, (Y/F/N), was what he actually said when he could speak again," Sero said.

"He said, 'Don’t say things that you don’t mean my love.' I think that made me astral project! Honestly, we've always had a weird relationship, but I guess that's understandable, everything considered."

Everyone laughed again, and Shouto wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

"So," the reporter asked, giving everyone a small smile. "Shouto, (Y/H/N), how long have you been together?"

"Our sixth anniversary is going to be this March," Shouto said.

"Has it really been six years already?" you asked. "Man, way to make me feel old."

Everyone laughed again, and you couldn't help but smile at Shouto.

"We've been graduated for four years, it feels like just yesterday we were being attacked by the L.O.V," you muttered, shaking your head.

"So you all love the job that you do?" the reporter asked.

Everyone chimed in, nodding enthusiastically.

"How hard is it, for you heroes, to be in relationships with each other?"

Everyone turned to you and Shouto, since you were the ones that had been together the longest.

"It's stressful, sometimes," you admitted, glancing at Shouto. "Especially when one of us gets injured, which, unfortunately is a lot, given the recent spike in quirk enhancing drugs."

"But one good thing about dating another hero is the mutual understanding that this job is hard, and there are some things that go along with that, things that make the bad days worse," Shouto added.

"Shouto and I have had longer than some of the other couple here to understand that sometimes there isn't much you can do on a bad day, just be there for each other. But this entire class has gone through a lot of stuff together, and a lot of us understand that," you said. "Although, it is hard sometimes, just letting your partner sit in the dark and brood when you just want them to smile."

"Sap," Shouto teased, and you hit his shoulder lightly.

"You say that like you aren't a dork either," you retorted. "Need I remind you what we did for our first date?"

"No, I remember it well enough on my own, thanks," he muttered, flushing.

You laughed, taking his hand.

"So, on a more series note," the reporter said, giving Shouto a small smile. "Shouto, when I reached out to you about this interview, you said it was conditional. Do you want to tell your friends why that is? Or do they already know?"

"Babe, what is she talking about?" you asked, turning to look at Shouto.

"So, I may or may not have planned a small surprise," Shouto said, glancing back at you. "And I was going to plan on writing a small speech, but you and I both know that we aren't like that."

He gave you a nervous smile, and then said, "(Y/F/N), we've been together for a while, and we learned really early on that this job is really dangerous."

He moved to stand in front of you, and your hands started shaking as he took a box out of his pocket.

"I love you more than I thought possible," he continued, and your hands flew to cover your mouth as he kneeled in front of you, opening the box to reveal a ring. "And if you're okay with it, I want to be more than your boyfriend. And the next time we have one of these interviews, I want to be able to tell people what it's like being married to another hero, and how we make it work."

"Oh my god, what are you doing?" you asked softly, tears blurring your vision as reality set in.

"Will you marry me?" Shouto asked.

Your breath caught in your throat as it constricted, and you nodded, giving him a bright smile.

"I need a verbal answer darling," he reminded you.

"Yes, yes, a million times yes!" you cried, throwing your arms around him, nearly knocking him over as you launched yourself at him.

Your friends were cheering around you, and you were crying in joy, and the audience was in an uproar, but Shouto had one strong arm around your waist, and he was laughing fondly as you continued to hug him.

"You just had to be a dramatic ass about it, didn't you?" Bakugou asked, shaking his head fondly as he watched the two of you.

"W-Wait, you all knew about this?" you asked, pulling away to wipe at your eyes, remembering that this was on live television.

"Yeah, he came to us about three months ago wanting to know the best way to propose to you," Midoriya said, helping you up off Shouto's lap.

"Three months?" you asked, turning to your boyfriend- no, your fiance- who was smiling shyly.

"Yeah, I already had the ring," he admitted softly, taking your hand in his. "I just wanted to know the right way to do it."

"And you decided that doing it on live national television was the best way to ask me to marry you? Did you take Aoyama's advice or what?" you asked, laughing.

"It worked didn't it?" Shouto asked.

"I would've said yes regardless of whether it had been live or not you jackass," you said, hitting his arm lightly.

"I know," he replied, wrapping an arm around you waist. "And that's why I love you."

"I love you too, babe," you said, kissing him softly.

"You two are going to make me sick," Bakugou snarled.

"You're just upset that you didn't think of asking Eiji today," you retorted, rolling your eyes.

Bakugou flushed pink, and Eiji just laughed, ruffling his boyfriend's hair softly, whispering something to him.

Shouto pulled away from you so he could slip the ring on your finger, kissing your hand like an old timey gentleman, and you threw your arms around him again.

"I love you Shouto," you told him, smiling as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"I love you too."

#shouto fluff #shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #marriage proposal #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha #mha #fluff

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yeojaa · 4 years ago

Note

GIRL we need a devil in a new suit drabble where jungkook gets jealous pls bless us😭😭❤️

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. explicit. tags. kook being hilarious and naive, reader being a little frustrated but head over heels, smut in the form of: titty sucking (kook is a big boob guy in this), cunnilingus, kook wanting to love you forever. wc. 2.1k. author note. i am... so in love with this couple so what was meant to be a “kook gets jealous and breaks reader’s back” turned into... this.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t get jealous. Not because he doesn’t care, or he’s unaffected, or any other negative connotation under the sun. He doesn’t because he’s him, too soft and sweet and silly to believe the worst in people. (This, coming from the man who’d steered clear of dating apps and blind dates because he was worried he’d be hurt.)

Once, you’d been waiting for him to pick you - he’d been running late, dinner with his parents and younger sister - and he’d found you chatting politely to an old fling of yours. Well, maybe not so old. A recent fling, a friend of sorts. Someone who’d swanned into your life during your college years and had remained there ever since, popping his head in from time to time.

You’d always been on good terms, caught up for lunch every six months or so when he’d return home from his overseas job. In the past, you’d found familiarity in the shape of his hands, the neon outline of his almond eyes and pouting lips. He was good in bed, as charming between the sheets as he was on the street.

But your heart belonged to Jungkook now - had, before you’d even realised it - and Taewoo was just another guy. Another face in a crowd.

Still, you’d thought your beloved boyfriend would have some sort of reaction. Maybe a quirk of his perfectly groomed brows, a certain tightness belying his displeasure in the softly peaked bow of his mouth. You’d spied neither after extracting yourself from the hug and waving goodbye. Jungkook had been sunshine and sweetness, opening your door for you and stamping a kiss to your cheek.

That night, he’d loved you how he always had, with you crying his name and making a mess of his sheets.

Another time, you’d been at a work function. One of those ridiculous galas you loved, full of women in their highest heels and men in their swankiest watches. (You’d worn Aquazzura that night, Jungkook with an Audemars Piguet loose around his wrist.)

He’d stuck close to your side, far more interested in the way your dress hugged your figure, cut intimidatingly high over your thigh and revealed the swell of your ass at juuuust the right angle. Yejin had been the only one to tear him away, insisting on shots that you knew she couldn’t handle. Anything went if free booze was involved.

Thirty minutes later - give or take, since you hadn’t had a watch of your own on - your boyfriend had returned, flushed and adorable. There’d been a garden of colour creeping over the expanse of his chest, peeking around the collar of his shirt and disappearing into his neatly tousled strands. He’d giggled his way back to you, somehow completely oblivious to the man that’d found you at your table and settled himself into the spot labelled Jeon Jungkook.

The imposter had been affronted, gaze narrowed at the younger man who was a little too loose, a little too smiley. Wholly out of place at an event like this, where people spent too much time up their own asses, noses held aloft and business cards exchanged.

(One of the reasons you loved Jungkook so much. He was a breath of fresh air in a world you thrived in - found humour in, at the very least - carrying you high above the clouds with the sound of his laughter.)

“Hi, baby.” Your darling boy smothered you in kisses, traced them up and over the exposed expanse of your shoulder, nosing against your skin, utterly unbothered by the man shooting him daggers, wishing him ill from the spot he’d wrongly claimed.

Of course, he’d thought Jungkook was making a point - claiming what was his - but that was so far from the truth you’d almost laughed when he’d spoken, voice carrying above the slightly laboured breaths of your lover. “I guess that’s my cue to leave, huh?”

You’d smiled, nodded with a hand threaded into cornsilk curling over Jungkook’s nape. “Looks like it.”

(Then your idiot love - your big-hearted moron, your doe-eyed baby - had come up for air, cheek resting in the palm of his hand. “Where’s your friend?” He’d asked, eyes so wide you couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his question.)

Such was the kind of person Jungkook was, with an unwavering belief in the goodness of others, a silver thread outlining everyone’s silhouette. You sometimes wondered what it would take to drive him to any sort of displeasure, any sort of emotion beyond quiet melancholy (seldom seen but heavily felt, when the rare occasions rose) or easygoing amicability (his default setting). Not that you’d ever push to see that, of course.

You were happy. Hopelessly in love. You wouldn’t have traded him for the world - couldn’t even fathom doing anything to hurt him.

And yet, you discover albeit by accident - it’s really not that hard. All it takes is a pretty girl.

“This looks incredible,” she says, standing close, long dark hair falling in a fluid curtain down the line of her back. It’s the loveliest shade, cool-toned beneath the boutique lights, and reflects colour like a waterfall. You’d complimented her on it when you’d stepped into the fitting area, a handful of hangers set across the rolling rack.

Fingers smooth over embroidery, revelling in the feeling of it over your skin. It’s a beautiful thing, black tulle that hangs to your fingertips. Not Jungkook’s preferred style - he much prefers harnesses and so many straps it might as well be a cat’s cradle - but you think he loves it nonetheless.

(You’d confirm, but he’s been stoically silent, seated in the plush chair tucked beside the privacy partition, normally soft gaze hard and trained on his phone. He doesn’t seem very much in the mood to talk, hardly reacting with each outfit change. A nod here, a smile there. Not even the most scandalous of the options - a black corset decorated in Leavers lace - had elicited his usual enthusiasm.)

“You think so?” You’re not insecure about your body - know what it looks best in, which assets to play up. Still, it’s nice to hear from someone other than your doting boyfriend, the people caught in your orbit.

The sales associate nods, beams at you in the multiple mirrors. A hand of her own drifts over the thin strap of the slip - an innocent gesture that dislodges wayward strands of hair from beneath. “Of course— and I’m not just saying that because I’m trying to sell it.”

You nod, satisfied. Even if Jungkook doesn’t seem ecstatic, your own joy makes up for it, buyer’s delight spilling over. “I’ll take the satin robe, the blush silk set, and this in the violet.”

“Great choices,” she hums, pulling back the curtain to the adjoining change room to allow you privacy. Silence follows as you slip the delicate number off, returning it to its hanger. You don’t expect when the brunette continues speaking - presumably to your surprisingly surly boyfriend. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yep.” He’s never been a man of few words, usually so full of excitement that he rambles when he doesn’t mean to.

It’s a dead giveaway - a confirmation that something’s wrong.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to broach the subject, your purchases already paid for and a firm hand on the small of your back the moment you’ve stepped out of the dressing stall. “Jungkookie?” You mean it quietly, just for the two of you, but falter when he slots his fingers between yours and all but tugs you out of the boutique. You hardly even have a chance to toss the helpful girl an apologetic smile, imposing glass swinging shut behind you.

“Men—men are fine. I don’t have to worry about them.” There’s a confidence you’re so proud to see, turning his words as solid as the weight that rests against your hip, sears burning heat into your bared skin. “No other man is going to love you better than me. But women?” A shudder runs the length of his imposing frame, tugs his shoulders up to his ears and tingles the small of his back. “Women are scary.” (It’s a sentiment he’s echoed in the past. In particular, months ago when you’d insisted he dive into the dating scene.)

Hands thread through his too-soft strands, twirl the ends around your fingers as he speaks, nearly muffled into the crook of your shoulder. He’s being so tender, giving you all the love he has to offer as he writes his insecurities into your skin, offers them with the wet of his tongue.

“A woman might sweep you off your feet and steal you away.”

You laugh then - sound snapping past your teeth before you can tuck it away. It filters loudly into the baies scented candle you’d lit when you’d gotten into his apartment.

Jungkook whines in response - a terribly endearing sound that makes you roll your eyes but only with affection (always with that) - and buries his face into your tits, sucking your nipple into his mouth with complete disregard for the tulle that acts as a barrier. Saliva stains the material, makes it stick to your hardened bud as he laves over it with his tongue - bites surprisingly gently - and tugs it just hard enough to have you keening.

“S-s’not funny,” he huffs, palming your other breast in his broad tattooed palm. When he continues, he bites into you like he’s got a personal vendetta against whatever lies beneath your flesh. “She was flirting with you.”

It’s less of a sigh of annoyance - more sensual, drowning in need. “She was not.”

He nips at the delicate flesh again, spreads crimson marks all across the sensitive skin until it’s a mosaic beneath the fabric, his finest work painted by his second favourite brush. “That’s what you think but she was.” The hand previously kneading your skin drops, flat of his palm sliding easily over your bare pussy.

There’s zero hesitation when he slots his fingers on either side of your clit, catches the delicate pearl against the webbing of his hand and applies pressure that has you bucking beneath him. It’s not nearly as aggressive as he normally is but it’s just as good, paired with the sinful motions of his tongue and teeth.

“She wants to be the one doing this,” he continues, saliva pooling across your chest, slipping into the valley of your breasts only to be licked up by the flat of his tongue. He continues even once you’re clean, skin sticky and a little gross but so erotic it makes you quiver. Then he descends, pushes the hem of your new slip higher, and licks another stripe from the joint of your thigh up to your belly button. Repeats it again, moving lower with each pass until he’s sucking your clit into his mouth. “She wants to be the one tasting this pretty, pretty pussy.”

You reach for his hand - the one somewhere near your ribs, side of his wrist soothing against the ladder of bones - and tangle your fingers together as he drives you mad, tip of his tongue switching between sweet kitten licks and tantalising figure eights.

“Baby,” you coax, reprimand almost. Jungkook’s never this lenient, never this sweet on you (not inside the bedroom, at least). It brings you to a different high, his love folded into lovely origami cranes you tuck into your pockets and the spot you’ve carved out for him within your chest.

“Sing for me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t mean literally - refers instead to the sound of your voice when it leaps three octaves, bounces between sultry and singed, burnt at the edges by the fire he brings to life.

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.” Despite how the words muffle, come broken between the glide of his tongue within your fluttering walls, you can hear the sincerity in them. The earnestness that begs you to promise him this simple thing. “Not for her. Not for anyone.”

“I won’t leave you,” you answer, threading the vow between your fingers as if they’re the thread binding your love story together. “Not for her - not for anyone.”

#anon.eml #bts drabble #bts imagine #bts au #bts fluff #bts smut bts jungkook #jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #incoming.eml #work.zip #drabble.zip #devil.doc #jungkook.doc

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years ago

Text

By Your Doorstep (Part 4)

Summary: The reader and Dean celebrate Tessa’s birthday with a big surprise before making a drastic change to their relationship...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 4,100ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentioned past sexual assault (not graphic)

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

_________

Dean’s POV

Two Weeks Later

“Oh fuck yeah!” said Dean, jumping up and down in the driveway as he read over the letter in his hands.

“Dr. Dean that’s a bad word,” said Emily, the five year old three houses down. Dean slapped a hand over his face as she rode past on her bike, her father laughing to himself.

“Hope it’s good news, Dean,” said Chris.

“Very. Sorry about that,” said Dean, Chris waving him off as Dean jogged back inside. He read over the letter again and looked through the packet. “Alright. As long as you keep a B average or above you’re golden kiddo. You get straight A’s anyways so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Dean smiled and gathered up all of the documents, getting them together with Tessa’s birthday present. Y/N had tried to tell him that giving away his old iPhone was too much but all it did was sit in a drawer now when it worked perfectly fine. He was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be thinking about the phone at all once she found out about the grant.

He looked back at the bag on the table and frowned. Maybe she’d take it the wrong way, like he was trying to save her sister or their family or something like that. He could have given them the application and had them fill it out. They would have probably gotten it still. Dean knew his letter he’d included didn’t hurt but he didn’t want to be that guy. He was already a doctor, already helped Y/N with a job, already paid for dates and things. It was no issue for him at all and he knew she didn’t care about the money but he didn’t want to rub it in her face that he could help more than she could.

Dean grabbed his phone and called Cas, Sam stuck in some network client thing all night he’d told him. It rang a few times before it picked up, the echo in the background telling him he was on speaker.

“Deano!” said Benny. “Gonna make it over tonight after all?”

“Hey guys,” said Dean, sitting down on his couch. “You got the crew together?”

“Nah, just us and the girls. They’re still out shopping. What’s up?” asked Cas.

“You know Y/N?” asked Dean.

“The girl you’re clearly in love with? Yes we know her,” laughed Benny. Dean was quiet and heard them shift on the other end.

“Everything okay?” asked Cas.

“I think I fucked it up. I think I’m going too far too fast.”

“What do you mean?” asked Benny.

“Tessa, her little sister, she’s in high school and I applied for a grant on her behalf for her college and she got it,” said Dean.

“That’s a problem how?” asked Cas.

“I don’t want it to come off as me trying to save them or anything. I’m nervous she’s gonna get mad at me,” said Dean. His friends were quiet and knew a teasing comment wouldn’t come. “Guys.”

“Tell her you applied on a long shot and a grant is what helped you with school. You’re not saving the day, just sharing a benefit you got,” said Benny. “Shit I wish I’d had someone do that for me.”

“What’s going on Dean? You’re normally the last person to freak over shit,” said Cas. Dean sat back and stared up at the ceiling.

“Talk to us bud,” said Benny.

“I like this girl and it’s been years and years since I had a girlfriend. You guys know I’m not good for more than a fuck,” said Dean.

“Lisa was a super bitch and you know that’s not true,” said Benny.

“I am in my thirties and I’ve never had a real relationship. I don’t even know how. I’m gonna fuck this up so bad. I know it.”

“Contrary to how often I call you a dick, you are one of the best people I’ve ever met,” said Cas.

“I agree and you know all our friends and especially Sammy would say the same thing. Brother you gotta relax. This girl from what you’ve said and everybody else says, well we ain’t never seen you so happy so stop freaking, go get ready for your date tonight and put some faith in this girl that she’s not gonna hurt you back,” said Benny.

“I didn’t say-”

“Dean, we’ve known you forever. We know when you’re scared. I know most people in your life end up hurting you but take it from us, not everyone will. I got a good vibe from her,” said Cas.

“Me too,” said Dean quietly.

“You doing okay?” asked Benny. “In general you know.”

“Yeah. Most of the time I’m great now. The past few weeks have been awesome. I think maybe that’s why I keep freaking out over this girl. It’s like, fucking finally, I understand what a good relationship can be.”

“You been to Ketch lately?” asked Cas.

“No, not as a patient. I’m okay.”

“Well still go for a tag up every once in a while for us,” said Benny.

“I know. Never would have gone without you assholes getting on my back in the first place.”

“That’s what friends are for,” said Cas, Benny chuckling. “So where you guys going tonight?”

“Monico’s.”

“Fancy,” they both said and Dean rolled his eyes, smiling to himself.

“Goodbye assholes,” said Dean, hearing them laugh before he hung up. He sat up and took a deep breath. “Alright. Shower. Shave and fingers crossed tonight goes well.”

Reader’s POV

“Okay, presents before or after dinner?” you asked as you carried in a bag to Tessa’s room.

“Before, obviously,” she said.

“Alright, well I know you wanted something really badly this year,” you said. “Why don’t you open the green one first?”

“This feels like an iPhone box…” she said with a big smile. She tore off the paper and grinned. “Awesome! What one is it?”

“It’s a ten. It’s used but in really good condition. I got you a case and extra charger too,” you said. “We can swing to the store and activate it tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Y/N, really,” she said. She grabbed the card next and her eyes went wide when she saw the cash inside. “Y/N.”

“It’s your money you gave me. It’s yours. Buy whatever you want, okay?” you said. She nodded and unwrapped a few more small things, a book she’d been talking about, some make up you knew she’d use, a new pair of her nike running shorts that’d been on sale thankfully. You smirked when she picked up the last two presents in the bag. “Alright. I hope these are...suitable for you.”

She tore off the wrapping on one and started to laugh.

“It’s hot pink,” she giggled. “Why is it hot pink?”

“Cause vibrators come in a variety of colors,” you said with a laugh. “I will let you read through the charging instructions on your own and same for the other box. There is toy cleaner because yes you need to wash these things properly and I got some water based lube. Go with water based. It dries up faster but it works better to me. Oh and wash everything like five times before it goes anywhere near anything, okay?”

“Okay,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you actually bought me this stuff.”

“Can’t get pregnant off a toy,” you said.

“Definitely can’t do that,” said Dean, Tessa wide eyed as he popped his head into the doorway. She shoved the boxes back into the bag and he laughed. “I’m a doctor. Sex doesn’t bother me and I think your sister has a point.”

“Oh my God, I forgot he was here,” she said, running her hands over her face.

“I was wondering where you two ran off to,” he said. He stepped inside and pulled out a box from behind his back. “Happy birthday, Tessa.”

“Thanks,” she blushed. She undid the bow and paper, smiling as she opened the box. There was an envelope inside but she picked up the headphones and shook her head. “Dean I can’t accept this. It’s too much. I already know the iPhone must have been yours.”

“You are smarter than you look,” he said. “But I can’t accept your refusal of my present. I have new ones and those never get used and I’m bigger than you so you’re gonna lose this argument one way or the other.”

“I’d listen to him, Tessa. He gets his way when he wants it,” you said. She rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Thank you. People haven’t been nice to us the past couple years,” she said. You glanced down to the floor, Dean leaving his arm wrapped around your waist.

“People weren’t all that nice to me either for a long time,” he said with a nod. “Someday when you’re able, you help somebody else out, understand?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod.

“Open the envelope. This one’s a present to you both,” he said. You cocked your head as she tore it open, reading for a long time before she pulled out a paper and handed it to you.

“Dean,” you said, sitting down on her bed after you’d read it a few times. “Dean this…”

“It’s a grant. It’s very similar to a scholarship. I’m an alumni of Elmdale and the medical school there. Tessa you qualify and so I applied on your behalf a few weeks ago and you were accepted. The grant will cover half of four years of tuition,” he said.

“What does that mean?” asked Tessa.

“It means we will have to pay very little with financial aid,” you said. She was beaming and you shook your head. “You applied weeks ago?”

“After I met you two. This house seemed familiar to me for some reason until I remembered. Y/N I told you someone helped me when I was eighteen?”

“Yeah?”

“I think his picture is hanging in the hall,” he said.

“Our dad?” asked Tessa.

“He got me a job and helped me pay for part of my school. I came here once when I needed his help. Your father was a very good man and it’s clear his daughters are the same. Neither one of you deserves to go through all the pain I did. I don’t want you to. It was no trouble at all to do, I swear.”

“Tessa, I work at Dean’s office as a lab tech,” you said. She turned her head and you saw Dean nod. “I lost my job before. We were scraping by. Barely. We’re okay now but without this grant...it would have wiped out our inheritance. That was for weddings and down payments for houses. We can keep it now...we can keep the house now.”

“You hate this house though,” she said. “I hate this house.”

“Tessa-”

“We can downsize,” she said. “Y/N, every night you stare down at their bedroom door. It’s like we live with ghosts or something. It doesn’t have to be so tight. Do we really need a five bedroom house?”

“It’s not as tight anymore. We’ll talk about it. Let’s go celebrate all the good news,” you said. “I’ve been dying for a Monico’s steak.”

“She seemed pretty happy tonight,” said Dean as you sat on the front porch a few hours later. You hummed and rocked in your seat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Did I overstep?”

“No. You were the boy in the mailroom, weren’t you. Dad used to talk about you sometimes. Mostly when I didn’t want to do something. He told me some people my age have it so much harder.”

“True. But you can’t compare one person’s struggles to another’s. It’s not fair to either one.”

“Would you sell this house if you were me?” you asked.

“I like that you live close by. I’d miss that. But it’s a lotta house for the two of you and it sounds like a change might be a good thing. You could downsize to somewhere else in the neighborhood and probably bank a good chunk of money for later on.”

“We could.” Dean was quiet, gears turning in his head. “What are you thinking of?”

“My house is a five bedroom too.”

“Yours is also newer,” you said. “And bigger.”

“Tell me if I’m crossing a line but...you guys...could stay there if you decided to sell this place. Temporarily. Or not temporarily,” he said. You stared up at him and he looked away. “Like I said, I’m sorry, I know it’s...I should go.”

“Hey. I’m not afraid of you.” His head turned back towards you and he swallowed thickly. “Tell me another secret and I’ll you one.”

“I think I I’m falling in love with you and I’m afraid I’m going too fast and that you think I’m creepy or weird deep down and I’m up to something when all I really see is me and my brother in you and your sisters places and I know how much it sucks and how much it hurts and I know you protect her from stuff she doesn’t even know about. I’m sorry for saying that about the house just now. I’d still like to see you though if that’s okay.”

“I think this is fast too but I also think that part of me fell for you the day you carried her home. You don’t want anything from us. Just to help and it’s not because you pity us or anything like that. If I’ve learned anything yet in life it’s that you don’t know when it’s gonna stop and there’s no use in wasting time.”

“What are you saying?”

“You willing to put up with a teenager, a service dog and someone who has not had a moment to themselves in two years?”

“As long as you don’t snore,” he smiled. You laughed and kissed his cheek. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t like this house anymore. If she doesn’t want it, I don’t want it. Maybe we can do some test runs, stay over for a weekend or two, see if we want to make it a not temporary thing.”

“That sounds great,” he smiled. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“I’m home,” you said on the way back from the store. You’d been staying at Dean’s for two weeks now after a nice couple closed on your old house. So far it’d been great and you were perfectly happy to stay there with him and Tessa for the foreseeable future. “I picked up some-”

“He is not my dad. I am eighteen,” said Tessa as she stormed over to the foyer. You glanced back to where Dean was over in the kitchen and sighed. “I want to go to Paulie’s tonight.”

“Who is Paulie?” you asked as you kicked off your boots.

“A friend,” she said.

“You’ve literally never mentioned him before,” you said, carrying some groceries through the family room and to the kitchen.

“That’s what I said,” said Dean as he peeled a potato at the island.

“I thought I said you’re not my dad so you can shut the fuck up.”

“Hey!” you shouted, Tessa freezing up. “Apologize to Dean.”

“He-”

“We are stable for the first time ever because of him. I trust Dean to make decisions for you when I’m not home. If he said no, then the answer is no. Go to your room,” you said. She grumbled and pounded her feet upstairs. You washed up and gripped the countertop. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe she said that to you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be the bad guy,” he said as he picked up another potato. “Paulie what’s his face doesn’t sound like he wants anything other than in her pants so she can swear all she likes at me.”

“What’d she say exactly?”

“She wants to go over to Paulie’s tonight to hang out with some friends but I overheard her and Hailey talking earlier this week about a party and I don’t need a medical degree to put it together.”

“If she sneaks out I’ll kill her,” you said. You glanced down to Toast’s dog bowl and paused. “Dean what would happen if she drank on her medication.”

“She can’t drink alcohol on that stuff,” he said.

“What would happen if she did.”

“She could have a seizure,” he said.

“Tessa!” you shouted. You jogged upstairs and found her bedroom empty. “Tessa!”

The house was quiet and you put your hands on your head.

“Toast!” you shouted, the dog trotting out from Dean’s bedroom. You immediately ran inside, Dean already upstairs and you saw her sitting out on the balcony in a chair, her face in her knees.

“Can I…” said Dean and you nodded. You followed him outside, Dean walking over and squatting by her seat. “Tessa, what are you doing out here?”

“I wish I was normal, didn’t have a fucked up head.”

“I got one too,” he said.

“Do you have to take medicine for seizures? No?” she said.

“No but my dad used to beat me up,” he said. She turned and he nodded. “He would try to beat up my little brother too sometimes but I would take the hits when I could. Tessa, you can’t drink when you’re on your medicine. You just can’t.”

“I know that,” she said.

“You can’t sneak out and leave Toast behind either. It’s not safe.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Y/N and I get scared too is all.”

“You just pretend to like me cause you fuck my sister.”

“For the record, I don’t fuck your sister. Relationships are complicated. You might not realize this but I care about you for you. If I didn’t I would not want you in my house, in our house, and I wouldn’t get scared about you going to parties with guys that just want to use you for sex. I give a shit about you Tessa whether you believe me or not.”

“You don’t care,” she scoffed. “You feel sorry for us. Nobody on earth would ask two strangers to move in unless you-”

“Tessa you can think whatever you want about me. I’m not your father and I’ll never try to be him. But I sure as shit know how to be an older brother. So be pissed off and be rude and whatever else you want to. I’ve done this before with my own brother. You don’t scare me. The only thing that does is you getting taken advantage of or you getting hurt and Toast isn’t there to help. Someday you’ll get it through that thick skull of yours what the truth is but until then, I’ll be the asshole who doesn’t let you go to parties you’ll get hurt at.”

“You pity us.”

“I’m jealous of you.” She stared at him and you swallowed in the doorway. “Your parents loved you. Mine didn’t. You want to talk about being fucked up? I’m here anytime.”

She nodded and he sat up on the bench with her. You went inside and finished preparing the potatoes, mashing them up and saving them for later. It was nearly ten by the time you heard the stairs creak and Dean walked down them.

“Y/N,” said Tessa. You got up from the couch and walked to the bottom of the stairs, Tessa glancing down. “I’m sorry for how I’ve acted today and treated Dean lately. I was…”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly as he rubbed her back.

“I was scared when we moved in here a few weeks ago. I don’t want to lose you too and Dean takes up time that it used to be just us and I know the accident wasn’t my fault but I feel guilty still sometimes and I know your life is different because of it too and I want you guys to be happy, I do. I just get scared you’ll forget about me. I don’t wanna be alone. I’m not ready.”

“You don’t ever have to be alone, Tessa,” you said. She nodded and looked up at Dean.

“I know. I was silly. But I’m better now,” she said.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said.

“I know,” she said.

“Why don’t you head to bed, Tess. Tomorrow I can come to your session with you like we talked about,” said Dean. She nodded and walked upstairs, Toast trotting into her room. You walked upstairs and into your bedroom with Dean, shutting the door after yourselves. “I should have...change is difficult on kids with PTSD. I should have realized that’s why she’s been so snippy. I thought it was just hormones.”

“Probably both,” you said, climbing onto the bed. He lay down next to you, staring up at the ceiling. “You care for her.”

“You two are a package deal, sweetheart,” he said with a light chuckle. “Can’t love one without loving the other.”

“Like you and Sam,” you smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him in person.”

“Me too.”

“Is Tessa okay? You guys talked a really long time.”

“She was afraid I would replace her, push her out. Granted I do like spending alone time with you and everything but she needs you and I’m not here to take you away from her. I think she understands that now.”

“Dean why haven’t we had sex?” you asked. He sat up and you shrugged. “We’ve dated nearly three months and you don’t even try to cop a feel. For how fast certain things are between us, that one feels a little slow. I just want to understand. I don’t...I’m not saying it’s a problem I just want to know.”

“You asked me on our first date, or you made a comment, that I don’t seem like the shy around women type.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t use to be. A smidge, especially if they were the one that seemed to be controlling the situation but it was always good. I had some girlfriends, had some hookups. More than my fair share of hookups. The girlfriends…”

“The bitch one?” you said, getting a chuckle out of him.

“I stopped thinking I was relationship material for a while. So I did hookups for a long time and that was good. Until about two years ago. I haven’t had sex since.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“No. I just...I asked her to stop and she didn’t.”

“Dean she hurt you.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?” he said. He put his back to you and you took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know we sleep in the same bed and…”

“And I don’t need to have sex with you. Would I like it? Sure. But my sister and I aren’t the only ones in this house that need to be taken care of. You’ve done a really good job of that lately and I’d like to start pulling my weight in that department. When you’re ready for sex, you tell me, otherwise, I will just cuddle you real hard until then, okay?”

“Alright,” he said quietly. He reached behind himself and wrapped your arms around him. You kissed the back of his neck, Dean taking slow breaths. “I don’t really know how to let someone take care of me though.”

“We’ll take it slow,” you said. “Like maybe with you being little spoon tonight.”

“Alright. I can try, sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #doctor!dean #au!dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #dean #winchester #dean spn

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years ago

Text

Meeting and Dating Farmer Ted

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Regardless of where the two of you have your first conversation, Ted probably knew of and had a crush on you before you were even aware of his existence.

- He’d probably seen you around school and thought that you were really pretty but just didn’t have the nerve to introduce himself while you were with your friends/around people. But now was his perfect chance.

- You’d been sitting outside of the school, waiting for somebody, when he’d slinked up to you all dorkily suave. Considering you were somewhat distracted by a book, you probably didn’t realize someone was approaching you until they’d; or rather he’d, sat beside you.

- Somewhat surprised and curious, you looked up and over at him, meeting his eyes as he gave you a smile. He greeted you, making small talk as you sat together before asking if you “wanted to go out Saturday night”.

- You found him sort of endearing and cute in a wimpy sort of way so; much to his genuine surprise, you actually said yes.

- For your first date, the two of you went to the movies. He kept sneaking glances at you throughout the night and held his hand open on the armrest like halfway through the movie, waiting to see if you’d take it; which you probably did.

- He probably rushes to go tell Bryce and Cliff about everything that happened after the two of you say goodbye.

- You have your first kiss about a week after your first date. You were sitting together in his bedroom and he’d mentioned how “it may come as a surprise …but you’re the first girl he’s ever gone out with.” before telling you how he really likes you and is wondering if you’ll be his girlfriend.

- Obviously, you agree and after an almost instantaneous “really?!”, he all but smashes his lips to yours. When the two of you pull away, he shyly apologizes but you just laugh and tell him it’s fine.

- And there you have it, the geek finally gets the girl.

- Lots of pda. He wants to show off and flaunt your relationship; particularly because he knows that no one would automatically assume that the two of you are dating whenever you’re together.

- His arm around your shoulder. It makes him feel like a stud.

- Handholding.

- Hugs from behind. He does occasionally give you an actual squeeze but, more often than not, he just wraps his arms loosely around you while the two of you stand together.

- He loves kisses on the cheek. He always tries his best to play it cool but his heart skips a beat whenever you give him one.

- Clumsy kisses. You’re probably going to be his first kiss so expect him to be a little bad at it for a while; and possibly scrape you with his braces.

- Soft kisses.

- Sitting in his lap. He likes wrapping his arms around you and looking up at your face or whatever you’re doing in front of him whenever you do.

- He loves cuddling and enjoys doing it in any way that you can. Spooning? Great! You laying your head on his chest? Even better! Him laying his head on you? Wowza!

- You’ll probably catch him staring at you a lot. He’s just amazed that such a wonderful girl like you is giving him the time of day.

- He calls you pet names more than your actual name, particularly in front of people because; once again, he likes showing off that you’re a couple. He must have at least a dozen different terms of endearment that he calls you interchangeably.

- Lame pick up lines. He still tries to flirt with you; even though he’s arguably bad at it.

- He likes making you laugh at his absurdity, especially if you’re noticeably upset; either with him or at something else.

- Singing along and lip syncing to the radio together.

- Dancing with each other.

- Giving all of his geeky interests a try.

- Letting him explain floppy disks and computers and all that to you. He’s actually sort of brilliant if we’re being honest here.

- Pizza dates.

- Movie dates. I can’t tell you why but I feel like Ted would enjoy watching old movies, movies with like Frank Sinatra in them and all the other golden age of Hollywood stars.

- Taking walks around the neighborhood together; maybe walking a dog together if you’re interested in that.

- Going to the park. You usually sit on the swings together and talk whenever you do.

- Arcade dates.

- County fairs, carnivals, and amusement parks. He likes taking you to those types of things, he thinks they’re really fun.

- Having “his dudes” interrupt and tag along with you guys a lot. He’s quick to tell them to scram but you usually feel kinda bad and just tell them they can stay if they’d like to.

- He definitely tries to get you a bit out of your comfort zone but never minds if you just don’t feel like doing something. The two of you could just be standing and doing nothing and he’d be completely fine with it purely because he’s with you.

- He said it himself: he’s a total pushover for pretty girls. You can convince him to do pretty much anything because he’s too twerked up to say no.

- Doing his makeup. Did you see his lid space? The clean close shave? He’d probably outright refuse at first but he’d give in easy enough and you’d get to make him gorgeous.

- He loves the smell of your perfume. He’ll never admit it but he sprays himself with it before he leaves your house so that he can smell like you for the rest of the night. It’s comforting to him.

- He definitely messes around with your stuffed animals whenever he’s bored, you’re not paying attention to him, or just to make you smile.

- Making you laugh is one of his main missions in life. He loves hearing the sound; even if it’s at his expense.

- Helping him clean up the messes he makes when he’s a total klutz, or just silently helping him when he’s awkwardly and cluelessly fumbling with something.

- Standing up for him; especially if you’re higher on the social hierarchy.

- Walking to class together.

- Sitting with him at lunch; even though it’s sort of social suicide. You get a lot of stares and weird interactions from the other geeks but Bryce and Cliff have gotten used to you and have become pretty good friends of yours.

- Him carrying your things, or you; he’s surprisingly strong for such a little guy.

- You’re like 90% of his impulse control and one of the only reasons he’s still alive. You keep him in check because he desperately needs it sometimes.

- Sharing secrets.

- Having earnest conversations. Most of the time, he feels like he needs to put up a front to seem cool but the longer you're together, the more he realizes you like him for him and that he can just be himself.

- He can act like a bit of a jerk sometimes but he does genuinely care about your feelings and is actually pretty good at making you feel better when you’re feeling down.

- He’s definitely pretty jealous. You hang out with him and a bunch of geeks who are constantly ogling and trying to get close to you. Not to mention the fact that you’re really pretty and could bag a boy who’s much higher on the social ladder than he is.

- He’s not overprotective of you but he does care enough about you to put his weeny ass on the line. He may not be the most helpful in a dangerous/scary situation but he’s fully ready to get his ass kicked to defend you; he’s gotten it bruised for less than that.

- You don’t fight a lot but the two of you do get into a few good arguments and fights. You’ll argue for a while until you move to just leave, he’ll stop you and calm his tone down while trying to reason with you and explain his point of view. He has a habit of saying the wrong thing or doing things without thinking so that may be part of the reason you’re moving to leave.

- He is genuinely sorry whenever he’s blatantly messed up but he’ll usually apologize for his attitude regardless of who’s in the wrong and say “but you have to admit x” and you will have to admit it no matter how stubborn you are.

- He likes when you tell him that you love him but he’s a bit too shy to say it back in fear of messing up his “stud persona”. He’ll usually just give you a kiss and tell you he loves you when you’re alone.

- You’re his first love so he has that naive, “we’re gonna last forever” mindset; even though he doesn’t talk about it all that much. That’s not to say that you won’t though, I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful life together.

#sixteen candles imagine #sixteen candles headcanons #sixteen candles imagines #sixteen candles headcanon #80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon #farmer ted imagine #farmer ted headcanons #farmer ted headcanon #farmer ted imagines #farmer ted sixteen candles

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kanerallels · 3 years ago

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I'd Follow You To The Great Unknown

(for Kanera Week, based on the prompt "found family/believing")

Read on AO3 here!

@kaneraweek

Word Count: 3,299

Tags/Warnings: rated T for allusions to torture and serious injury

Summary: Nothing lasts forever. Kanan and Hera are made painfully aware of that after a slipup during a mission

Kanan had known this would happen someday. It had been inevitable from the start. Even the Spectre could only avoid the Empire for so long.

And he had, since he was twenty years old. For the past eight years, he’d fought against the Empire, side by side with the Rebel cell he’d helped to form-- Sabine Wren, Ahsoka Tano, Ryder Azadi. And eventually, Ezra Bridger and Hera Syndulla. They worked well together. Kanan couldn’t imagine working without them.

But then he’d gone on a mission. Just a routine op, nothing they hadn’t done a million times before. It was a milk run-- what was the worst that could happen?

Typically enough, the Empire had seemed to take that as a challenge. The literal worst possible thing had happened-- an Inquisitor had showed up. And Kanan had known, right then and there, that there was only one possible outcome. Ahsoka hadn’t been anywhere near them, and the Inquisitor had been heading straight for Ezra.

So Kanan had dropped his katana and called on the Force, throwing Ezra as far away from the Inquisitor as possible. And as the Inquisitor had turned towards him with devious delight in his eyes, Kanan had pulled out his lightsaber and ignited it, blue light blazing to life.

They’d gotten away by some miracle. Kanan had managed to hold back the Inquisitor long enough for Hera to bring the Ghost in and pick them up. And now they were on their way back, and Kanan knew what had to happen next.

“Kanan, what are we gonna do?”

Ezra’s question snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked at the kid, who’s eyes were wide with fear. “The Inquisitor-- he saw you. He saw your lightsaber.”

“I know, kid,” Kanan said, keeping his voice calm. And he felt calm, strangely enough. Maybe it was the total certainty he held in his heart about their next move. Putting a hand on Ezra’s shoulder, he told him, “It’s gonna be okay.”

Some of the fear faded from Ezra’s face, and he nodded. “But-- how?”

For the first time, Kanan found himself hesitating. He didn’t want to lie to Ezra about this. But he knew there was no way the boy would let him make the next move, not if he could help it. “We’ll talk when we get home,” he told Ezra. “For now, stay calm, and be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Whatever path is set before you.”

Frowning, Ezra started, “What does that--”

The intercom crackled, and Hera’s voice came over it. “We’re landing. Everyone off, fast.”

The crew piled off, Ezra in the lead. As Kanan headed off, Hera joined him. She caught his gaze, her eyes concerned. “Kanan--”

“We’ll talk when we get to Mace and Depa,” Kanan promised quietly. He started to move out of the ship, but Hera grabbed him by the arm.

“No,” she said flatly. “Now.”

Kriff. Kanan winced, but reluctantly stayed behind as the others filed off the ship. Once they were gone, he slowly turned to Hera, meeting her gaze.

“Kanan,” she said, her voice steady. “Tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

Kanan met her gaze, feeling a stab of pain go through him. He thought about their engagement party, the moment when he’d first kissed her and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he loved her. “I’ll never lie to you,” he said.

“No.” Hera shook her head. “You can’t do this-- there are other ways.”

Resting his hands on her shoulders, Kanan just took her in for a moment. She was beautiful even in her anger, and incredibly strong, and he’d never stop wondering how he’d gotten so lucky. “We both know there’s not. Hera--”

“Don’t do this,” she said, her voice unsteady. “Don’t-- we need you, Kanan. I need you.”

“You’ll be fine without me,” Kanan said. “You’ve always been strong enough on your own.”

Stepping away from him, Hera shook her head. “That’s not the point, and you know it. Please, don’t--” she stopped, her voice breaking, and Kanan’s heart broke with it.

He moved forward and pulled her into his arms, and Hera went willingly, burying her face in his chest, her hands fisting in his shirt. “I can’t lose you,” she whispered, and Kanan felt her shudder.

“You won’t,” Kanan responded, stroking her back soothingly. “You’ll get me back. There’s no one else I’d trust to save me than this team. But I need you to stay strong for them, just for now.”

“It feels like I’ll break without you,” Hera choked out, a sob cracking her voice. “If you’re gone, everything’s going to fall apart.”

“It won’t. They have you, Ezra, and Ahsoka. Together, you’ll protect our family.” Kanan was silent for a moment, then said, “Please, Hera. I can’t do this if I don’t know that you’re safe.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t help, then,” Hera muttered. “To keep you safe.”

“We both know you’re not going to do that,” Kanan said. “This Rebellion has always been important to you, and you need to keep the beginnings of it safe. We both will be, just… in different places.”

Hera didn’t speak, simply clung to Kanan as she cried, and Kanan held her close, feeling tears prickle at his own eyes. But he couldn’t indulge them, not now.

Finally, Hera took a shaky breath. She pulled back, and Kanan was relieved to see determination and resolve glinting in her eyes. “I’ll keep them safe,” she told him. “And then I’m coming back for you.”

“I know,” Kanan said simply.

They made their way back into the Jedi residence, where the others were waiting. Depa was the first to see them, and her eyes narrowed as they approached. “What’s going on?” she demanded. “Ezra told us about the Inquisitor. What’s your plan?”

Kanan hesitated. This was the last news he wanted to bring them. He knew it was going to be hard on them, especially Ezra. But there was no getting away from it. “Everyone’s packing up and getting out of here,” he told them calmly. “We’re getting on the Ghost and heading for Alderaan. Hera’s ship can’t be tracked, so the Empire won’t know where you’re going. You’ll be able to slip out quickly and easily, as long as--”

“Wait, you?” Sabine broke in. “What do you mean? Aren’t you coming with us?”

Oh, Force. Kanan met Ezra’s eyes as he responded, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. “No. I’m not.”

Ezra’s eyes went wide, horror flashing through them. “No. Kanan, you can’t stay--”

“The Empire knows that it’s me they’re looking for,” Kanan said quietly. “I’m the only official Jedi here that has a blue lightsaber. Pryce will jump on this chance to get rid of one of us. If I cause enough of a ruckus when they come for me, it’ll cause the distraction you need to get out of here. And if I don’t go with you, the Empire won’t be so eager to follow.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Ezra protested, panic cracking his voice. “There’s no way I’m letting you go. Kanan, please--”

“Ezra,” Kanan cut in. “This is my choice. I need you with the others, to keep them safe.” Crossing the space between them, he rested a hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “I need you to do this for me.”

Jerking away, Ezra shook his head, angry tears glittering in his eyes. “NO. We can’t just leave you behind-- you can’t just give up!”

He started to back away, but Kanan caught hold of him, pulling him closer. Ezra started to struggle, but slumped against Kanan, weeping into his shirt. “Please don’t go. Please, Kanan.”

Taking a shaky breath, Kanan cleared his throat quickly. “I’m sorry, kid. I don’t want to leave you, trust me.”

“Then don’t,” Ezra whimpered. “You don’t have to leave us.”

Swallowing against the lump in his throat with difficulty, Kanan said, “What I have to do is keep you-- keep everyone safe.” Looking up at Mace, who stood nearby with an unreadable expression on his face, he added, “Sometimes, to protect the people you care about, you have to make sacrifices. This is one of those times.”

Mace’s expression softened slightly, and he nodded. “I’ll stay with you.”

“No,” Kanan said firmly. “You’ve suffered enough at the Empire’s hand, and I need you with everyone else. Besides, the Empire can’t get its hands on more Jedi.”

Reluctantly, Mace nodded as Ezra pulled away from Kanan. Looking at Kanan, he said, “We’re gonna get you back.”

“I expect you to,” Kanan responded, giving him a smile. “I’m proud of you, kid. Keep on fighting, and keep everyone safe for me.”

Looking at the others, he said, “I know you don’t like this. But it’s my choice, and it’s the best move to keep the Rebellion safe. So you need to go now.”

Ahsoka was the first one to move. Stepping forward, she put a hand on Kanan’s shoulder, her gaze compassionate. “May the Force be with you,” she said simply.

Kanan found himself smiling. “And with you,” he said.

Depa was next, and she gave him a soft smile. “I’m proud of you, apprentice,” she said softly. “If this is the path the Force has given you… I’ll admit, I’m hesitant to let you walk it. But I doubt this is the last time we’ll be together.”

“I agree,” Kanan said. “Keep the others safe.”

As Depa moved on, Sabine moved up to him, her expression tight. “I hate this,” she said, her voice flat.

“You’re not the only one,” Kanan admitted. “But this has to happen. Listen-- keep an eye on the others for me, okay? Look out for Ezra.”

Nodding, Sabine said, “Okay. Just-- we’re coming back for you, okay?”

“I’m counting on it,” Kanan said, giving her a grin.

His next goodbyes were to Grey, Styles and Stance, all of whom bid him good luck. Clasping Kanan’s shoulder, Grey said, “Take care of yourself, kid.”

“Take care of my master,” Kanan said, lifting an eyebrow. “And don’t call me kid.”

As Grey moved away from him to Depa’s side, Kanan faced Ezra. Squaring his shoulders, Ezra said, “I won’t say goodbye, because it’s not. We’re gonna come back for you. Just be careful, okay? Don’t make the Empire too mad.”

“Me? Never.” Kanan’s grin faded away, and he said, “I’m proud of you, Ezra.”

“Proud of you, too,” Ezra said, his voice wavering slightly. Taking a deep breath, he said, “May the Force be with you.”

Kanan felt tears in his eyes as he responded, his own voice miraculously steady. “And with you, apprentice.”

With that, Ezra headed onto the Ghost with the others, and Kanan only had two goodbyes left. Hera and Zeb were standing next to each other, and Kanan knew this was going to be hard. But he had to keep it together.

Stepping forward, he opened his mouth, but Zeb beat him to it. “I’m staying,” the Lasat said, his tone brooking no argument.

“What?” Kanan said. “Zeb, no. The only people the Empire hates more than Jedi--”

“Are aliens, especially the ones they’ve tried and failed to wipe out, yeah, I know,” Zeb said, waving a hand dismissively. “But they’ll be coming for you in force, and if you want a real distraction, you’ll need help. So I’m staying. Besides, I told Hera I’d keep an eye on you.”

“Oh, so you’re in on this?” Kanan said, lifting an eyebrow at Hera.

“Humor us, love,” Hera said, folding her arms. “This is hard enough as it is. I want someone with you to watch your back.”

Kanan sighed. “This-- you know what you’re about to walk into,” he told Zeb.

“Yep. So stop warning me about it and finish your goodbyes,” Zeb said. “I’m ready to knock together some Imperial heads.”

Somehow, Kanan felt a smile across his face, and he nodded. “Okay. Give me a minute, though.”

Zeb nodded, and moved just out of earshot, which Kanan appreciated. Turning to Hera, he just looked at her for a moment, drinking her in. “I’m going to miss you,” he said softly.

“Not as much as I’ll miss you.” Hesitating, Hera said, “What if this goes wrong? What if we can’t get back to you, or--”

“Hey.” Kanan moved closer to her, pulling her into a hug. “We’ll see each other again,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” Hera asked, her voice small.

“Well, there’s a certain question I haven’t actually asked you yet,” Kanan said, and felt Hera stiffen in surprise. “And there’s no way the Empire or Pryce or anyone else can keep me from getting back to you to ask it.”

Hera pulled back, gazing at his face. “I-- Kanan,” she whispered, her expression stunned.

“I won’t ask yet,” Kanan said, running a gentle thumb along her jawline. “But when you bring me home… no promises.” He paused, then added, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Hera said, and Kanan couldn’t resist bending down to steal one last kiss, his lips lingering on hers for only a moment.

But then he stepped back, and she was moving onto the Ghost, and then Hera Syndulla was gone. Kanan watched the ship start to rise in the air, then turned to Zeb. “Are you ready for this?”

“The real question is, is the Empire ready for this?” Zeb shot back, and Kanan couldn’t help but laugh.

He had no idea what would happen next. But he knew he’d have one of his best friends fighting with him, and the rest of his family was safe. Pulling the two pieces of his lightsaber from his belt, Kanan twisted them together. “Let’s go make a mess,” he said.

~ ~ ~

Six months later

Hera felt the Ghost humming underneath her as they made the jump to hyperspace, and she let out a sigh of relief.

It had been a long past six months. Shortly after Hera and the others had escaped from Lothal, thanks to Kanan’s sacrifice, it had been completely blockaded by the Empire, making it all but impossible to get in. They’d done anything they could to get news about Kanan and Zeb, although it had been scarce.

It had taken the Empire weeks to actually catch the two of them. They’d taken out the squad that came to arrest Kanan, and then gone on the run. But eventually, they’d been caught, and transported off of Lothal.

The last months had been long and hard, spent trying to find out where Kanan and Zeb had been taken, all the while working with the Rebellion. They’d found Zeb first-- the two of them had been separated. Zeb had been sent to a prison camp called Wobani. Once there, he’d promptly started a small rebellion with some of the prisoners, including a seventeen-year-old girl named Jyn, an ISB agent named Kallus, and a dark-haired man named Ferus Olin. Who happened to be a Jedi.

When Hera and the others had rescued Zeb and his new friends, they’d asked Ferus if he knew where Kanan might be held. The man’s face had gone dark as he said, “I can only think of one place-- Mustafar. But if your friend is on Mustafar, he’s as good as dead.”

“Not Kanan,” Ezra had told him. “He’s not going anywhere anytime soon. And if he does die, Hera and I will go to the afterlife to forcibly drag him back.”

Unfortunately, they soon discovered that Ferus’s theory had been right. Kanan had been imprisoned on Mustafar by the Inquisitors and the Emperor’s Hand.

So Hera had organized an assault on a stronghold full of Sith. And somehow, impossibly, they’d done it. They’d gotten in, and Ezra and the others had found Kanan and brought him home. And now, with the blue lights of hyperspace flickering through the front viewport, they’d escaped.

Getting up from her seat, Hera glanced at Chopper. “Keep an eye on things up here, Chop.”

Just go find him, Chopper said, and for once Hera didn’t stop to argue with her droid. Turning, she headed out of the cockpit and down towards the cargo bay, where the rescue team had entered the ship.

As she arrived on the balcony area above it, her gaze swept across those below her-- Grey and Depa, who were standing close together, holding hands. Mace, who was talking with Ferus, the scar across his eyes obvious in the light. Zeb, joking with Styles and Kallus, and nearby him Sabine and Ahsoka, standing with their arms crossed and their eyes fixed on the three men in the middle of the room.

Stance had been the team medic for a while now-- apparently he’d learned to take care of Kanan when he came back from one too many missions with injuries. Hence why he was currently arguing with Kanan as Ezra hovered near his master, clearly unwilling to let him get too far away.

“For kriff’s sake, Kanan, will you let me--”

“Not yet,” Kanan snapped, his voice vehement. “I need to talk to--”

“Kanan?” Hera said, and she wasn’t sure why her voice was so soft and shaken. Until Kanan looked up, and then she knew.

He looked terrible. Bruises darkened his skin, and blood stained his clothing here and there. It was clear he hadn’t bathed in a while, nor had he shaved-- his beard had grown considerably fuller and scruffier since she’d last seen him. His hair was long and loose-- but Hera wasn’t looking at any of that. Her gaze was fixed on the somewhat dirty bandage wrapped around his eyes.

She was down the ladder before she knew what was happening, and Kanan moved forward to meet her, his steps uncertain as Ezra gently pushed him in the right direction. His voice, on the other hand, was anything but, as he whispered, “Hera. You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Hera said, gently reaching up and touching his cheek. Kanan leaned into the touch, a half-smile twitching across his face.

“I know. The Empire could never trick me with you. I always knew when it was a fake.” He caught hold of her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and pressed a kiss against the back. “I’d know your voice anywhere.”

Hera felt tears prickling in her eyes. Keeping her voice steady, she asked, “What happened, love?”

“The Empire likes to make people vulnerable,” Kanan said matter of factly. “So they did that in the best ways they could think of. When none of them worked, they decided to try this.” A somewhat bitter smile twitched across his face. “So I guess I was wrong when I said I’d see you again.”

“You could always see me,” Hera told him, and pulled him into a hug. Kanan wrapped his arms around her, and Hera felt him take in a quick, shuddering breath. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she whispered.

“Me, too,” Kanan said, his voice shaking slightly.

He sounded fragile, off center, hurt, and Hera’s heart ached for him. For what he’d gone through. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to you sooner, love,” she murmured.

Moving hesitantly, Kanan lifted a hand to her face, and bent to press a kiss against her forehead. “It’s okay. I knew you would come, and you did. And I’m back with you again. That’s the important thing.”

Hera knew that wasn’t all, and she knew Kanan was still hurting, from both physical and mental wounds. But that could wait until another day. For now, what he needed was to rest and heal, with his family around him.

“Welcome home, Kanan,” she said.

A soft smile curled Kanan’s mouth. “Glad to be here, Captain Hera.”

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years ago

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LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES // 4

Four - Casablanca

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

“ You dressed up! “

God damnit. He should’ve known. He really should’ve. Sam stands by his side, shit-eating grin splitting his face in two. He should’ve just worn a plain sweater and no one would’ve commented on it.

But then would she look at him with that joyful sparkle in her eyes and that gorgeous smile? Maybe the little dressing up that he did do, and all the teasing comments from Sam, are worth it if means she’ll look at him like that.

“I didn’t dress up.” Doesn’t mean he has to admit it. No now, not ever.

“ Uh, your jeans are cuffed. You’ve never done that!” (Y/N) points out to which Sam chimes in with a loud “that’s what I said!” words dripping with amusement.

“ It’s just my jeans, it’s not a big deal.”

“ And you quiffed your hair!”

Bucky glances towards Sam who stands beside him with the biggest smile any person has ever displayed in all the times humans have walked this earth. His joy at Bucky’s obvious discomfort knowing no boundaries and, if it weren’t at his own expense, Bucky would even find Sam’s amusement quite contagious.

“ You totally did! He totally did! I didn’t even notice. Hi,” he says and shakes (Y/N)’s hand “ I’m Sam.”

“ So nice to meet you, Sam. And you dressed up too! As a sexy Ghostbuster!”

Bucky can basically feel Sam’s ego inflate at those words and he knows, for a fact, he’ll never hear the end of it.

“ That’s right! I am a sexy Ghostbuster. Not a regular one. That’s exactly what I was going for, thank you. Man, I love her already.” Sam says, directed at both, (Y/N) but mostly at Bucky.

“ You look lovely too, by the way,” Sam points out and for the first time since they arrived, Bucky gives himself a moment to take her in entirely. Not just the little things, the twinkle in her eyes, the warm radiance of her smile. Her. All of her.

The blue and white checkered pinafore dress she’s wearing reaches down to her knees, her legs are covered by white knee-high socks and at her feet, a pair of ruby red heels sparkle as the light reflects against them.

She looks beautiful but what really makes Bucky’s heart skip just a tiny fraction of a beat is the fact that he knows who she’s supposed to be and, whether she did it purposefully or not doesn’t matter, he feels included for the first time in so long.

“ You’re Dorothy.” his lips produce words that his brain didn’t sign off on. They just slip out. They hold so much weight that even if he’d acted fast enough, he doesn’t think he would’ve been able to hold them back. They’re so seemingly insignificant but they hold a meaning that Bucky isn’t sure anyone will ever fully comprehend. Steve would’ve but Steve is — not here.

He hopes (Y/N) understands even a small fraction of what it means to him. And when she smiles, he thinks she might.

“ I am. Do you like it?”

“ You look beautiful. “ And she does. She really does.

Sam is grinning away like he’s just heard the best news and Bucky isn’t sure if he prefers this to his outright laughter at his discomfort or not. This smirk seems like some inside joke Bucky doesn’t get. Like Sam knows something he doesn’t.

“ Can I get you guys something to drink? Beers? “

“ That would be great “ Sam replies.

“ Grumpy? “

“ Sure.”

He can’t get drunk, that’s one of the little things the Serum changed about him. It’s not like he’s here to get drunk anyway but to feel the enthusiastic buzz that alcohol can wash through your system, would be nice. He hardly remembers what that felt like.

He’s gonna drink some beer either way though. It gives him the feeling of fitting in, of belonging with the crowd. Even if he knows that’s one big lie. Sometimes you have to lie to yourself to keep your heart from breaking.

Kim isn’t a friend. Not really. She’s a friend of a friend who somehow always tags along whenever (Y/N)’s friend group gets together. She’s never actually invited but she’s always there anyway. Tonight is no exception.

She’s dressed in some kind of last-minute DIY deer costume, one of those that have been popular a few years back on Youtube, and the way she smirks at (Y/N) as she enters the kitchen already makes the metaphorical alarm bells go off in (Y/N)’s head.

“ So, I didn’t know you know celebrities. “

“ What are you talking about, Kim? “

“ Oh, you know! “ Kim announces and slides up next to (Y/N), casually leaning against the kitchen counter. “ Do you think he can do some cool tricks with his metal arm? “

“ Who are you talking about? “

Obviously (Y/N) is well aware of who Kim is talking about. There’s only so many people with metal arms and only one of them finds himself at this very party. Still, she doesn’t give Kim the satisfaction of reacting to her ridiculous comment. Maybe, (Y/N) naively hopes, repeating her question will make Kim realize just how rude and offensive her words really are.

“The winter soldier! Who else. That’s him, isn’t it? “

“ No.”

“ You sure? I’m pretty certain that’s him.”

“ His name is Bucky!” (Y/N) clarifies, fixing Kim with a stare that conveys just how serious this is to her. “ And he is not some kind of circus freak or entertainer or something. He is my friend. “

Kim shrugs her shoulders so casually that it sends shivers of red hot rage through (Y/N)’s body. The audacity of this woman. “ Okay sure but he is the Winter Soldier, right? I don’t know why you’re acting so sensitive right now. Chill, girl.”

“ Fuck you, Kim. You are so disrespectful towards my friend. He’s so sweet and genuine and wonderful and he deserves to be seen for all that he is. He is not here for you to stare at like a caged animal and he sure as hell ain’t here to be reminded of his painful past. If you can’t treat him like a normal person, please leave. “

There’s a look on Kim’s face that (Y/N) hasn’t seen on her before. One of utter disbelief. One that lets her know that this was the last thing Kim was expecting. And for a little moment, a huge wave of triumphant enthusiasm crashes over her.

“ Whatever.” is all Kim replies once the shock has settled. With a pout on her lips, she shuffles out of the kitchen and back into the crowd. (Y/N) can’t tell for sure if she’s leaving but there’s no doubt in her mind that at least she won’t be harassing Bucky anytime soon.

A bitter taste settles on (Y/N) tongue, as she thinks about Kim’s words again. About the sick and twisted thoughts that reduce Bucky to little more than a human animatronic. It’s disgusting and so so sad and she just hopes Bucky hasn’t heard her say those things.

As she steps out of the kitchen and rounds the corner though, her hopes are squashed. There’s the usual pain on his face, the one that’s perpetually etched into his features as Bucky leans against the wall. But mixed in between, there’s something else. A confusing mess of emotions she can’t quite place. She knows though. He’s heard every last word.

“ Robin came over, started talking to Sam about some band I don’t know. Thought I’d come see if you need some help. “

“ Bucky, I — “

“ It’s fine.” He interrupts her. (Y/N) doesn’t think it’s really fine. Sometimes people just get so used to saying they feel fine, they actually start believing it. Only fine is not something you want to feel forever, is it? Fine shouldn’t be a permanent state. Fine should be temporary. A path to good. To great. To happy.

“ You sure? “

“ Yeah. I uh — I appreciate what you said.”

“ Oh sure. And I meant it. You’re my friend and you deserve all the good things life has to offer.”

He doesn’t know if he agrees with that sentiment. No, in fact, he’s sure that he doesn’t agree. While he is free of the pain that bound him to Hydra, he will never be entirely free of the guilt his past has put on him. One, he thinks, makes him undeserving of so many things. Like friends. Like happiness. Like love.

And yet it’s nice to know that other people see in him what he may never see in himself.

“ Now let’s go rescue Sam before Robin ropes him into some kind of wedding preparations.”

She says, hands Bucky a bottle, and then grabs his free hand to pull him towards the other side of the room where Robin, dressed as Jessica Rabbit, gestures around wildly as she talks to Sam.

At first, (Y/N) doesn’t even realize it but then she notices that the hand holding hers feels different. It’s not as soft to the touch as a hand usually is. The glove is warm and smooth under her skin but she wishes she could touch the metal. It’s not some kind of weird, misplaced fetishization or some sensationalism. It’s the fact that the arm is a part of Bucky as much as his eyes or his smile or his perpetual grumpiness. And she wants to know every part of him for they make him who he is, and who he is is wonderful.

3 hours.

It’s been 3 hours since they arrived at the party. 3 hours of music he doesn’t get from artists he doesn’t know. 3 hours of staying painfully sober while everyone around him gets exponentially more drunk. 3 hours of pretending not to notice the looks he’s getting.

3 hours and then it got too much. He’s well aware that this isn’t his time. By all means, he shouldn’t be here. Not like this. Stuck in a body that doesn’t match his actual age. Forever reminded of the fact that he’s not meant to be here. Usually, he tries to ignore that. Tries to learn about new things, tries to understand.

This party puts a mirror right in front of his face though. Makes it painfully obvious that this is not where he belongs.

What a party pooper he is. He’d hate himself. If his old self could see him now, standing alone on a balcony because he didn’t like the music inside. His old self would think of him as a coward. His old self is probably right.

“ Grumpy, what are you doing out here, all by yourself?”

For a second the music from the inside spills through the doors and into the serene night, only to be cut off a second later when (Y/N) steps onto the balcony and closes the door behind her.

“ Are you not having fun? “

“ It’s not that. It’s just —”

Just what? Bucky has no idea how to put it into words. It’s moments like this one where having Steve around would be so helpful. He’d understand and he’d know what to say. Steve always knew what to say. Steve just didn’t know when to shut up.

“ You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Ever.” (Y/N) says and bumps him with her shoulder as she leans against him looking out at the New York skyline.

“ I appreciate it.”

“ I was hoping you’d like my costume,” (Y/N) confesses after a moment. “ I feel like I tell you so much about all these movies you missed out on and I don’t know, maybe it’s silly, but I wanted you to feel in the know for once. Does that make sense? “

Bucky bites his lip for everything he wants to say is not something you tell someone you’ve only just befriended a few weeks ago. Never has he felt the need to spill his heart, with all his sorrows and fears and dreams, to anyone. Not until tonight. But it’s too much to burden her with. He can hardly carry the weight himself. To put it on her would be an awfully selfish thing to do.

So he just nods his head and smiles and he says “thank you” like it doesn’t mean anything when really it means the world.

“ Okay well, since I can’t bring you to the party — “ (Y/N) says and fumbles her phone from her dress pocket “ — I’ll just have to bring the party to you.”

For a moment she just types away on the screen before a familiar tune sounds from the speakers of her phone. A familiar tune, to Bucky. One he remembers dancing to when he was a whole other man.

Glenn Miller’s Moonlight Cocktail fills the air and Bucky’s lips unwillingly lift into a smile.

“ If I remember correctly,” (Y/N) says and reaches out her hand to him “ you owe me a dance.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head, but grabs a hold of her hand anyway “That’s not how it works. You can’t just say someone owes you something simply because you want it.”

She’s so close now. He can see the lights reflecting in her eyes, can feel her chest lift with every breath she takes.

Here’s the thing about loneliness. After a while, you get used to it. It becomes a part of your life, of yourself, like breathing and sleep. You don’t even realize that you’re missing something. Until one day you’re chest to chest with a beautiful girl who thinks you’re wonderful and worthy of her friendship. And it’s then that you realize how lonely you were and how much it hurts and how much you’ve been missing the touch of another.

“ I’ve always wanted to dance through the night. Ever since I’ve first seen Moulin Rouge in the cinema.” (Y/N) says and they start to slowly but surely sway to the music. It’s tentative steps at first, shy and unsure. Barely there moves but there after all.

Sometimes it’s enough for things to be small. The big moments, the important ones don’t need to be big at all. Some of the most important ones don’t demand a lot of space and yet they take up all the space in your heart.

“ Do you remember your first time seeing a movie at the cinema? “ she asks, looking up at him with her starlight eyes.

It’s not a memory he can recall. It’s one of those that have been lost in the shuffle. Like a sweater you love that’s been lost in the laundry or a picture frame gone missing during a move.

“ I don’t. I do remember my last trip to the cinema though.”

“Yeah? What was it?”

This memory is so vivid, it could’ve happened yesterday. He remembers the old dusty velvet seats. He remembers the propaganda spot shown before the movie, the one that put a feeling in his gut as if he’d just swallowed a sack of bricks, now knowing what was to happen but expecting it. He remembers Ruth Dillinger and her gorgeous blond hair and the way it smelled like soap and flowers. And he remembers the movie.

“ Casablanca. Saw it on a date with a girl.”

“ Aw, you took her on a movie date? Lucky girl. “

“ I don’t know if I’d go that far. I wasn’t half as respectable of a guy back then. Was more interested in sneaking a kiss in the dark than taking her to see a good movie. “

“ Did you do the whole, yawning-arm-around-the-shoulder thing?”

“ Obviously.”

“ Oh, you were just a regular casanova, Mr. Barnes? “

“ For sure. “

New York feels alive with the power of possibility. Of a night being more than a night. Of small moments being big and big moments being so tiny and intimate and small. New York feels alive with emotions. Ones Bucky doesn't understand and couldn’t understand. But either way, he feels happier in that tiny insignificant moment than he had in a long time.

“ I’ve never seen Casablanca.”

At that confession, Bucky pushes away from her a little so he can properly look at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“ What? It’s a classic. I have good reasons for not having seen most of your movie recommendations, what’s your excuse? “

She smiles bashfully and shrugs her shoulders “ I really don’t know. I just never got around to it. I feel like it’s such an important movie, it asks for a special occasion. Like seeing it at some fancy cinema or in concert or something. You know? “

Bucky only chuckles before pulling her close for another soft sway around the balcony.

Only the serenity doesn’t last very long as the aggressive drumming of some EDM song penetrates the quiet and Sam steps out onto the balcony.

“ Hi guys, uh — am I interrupting something ?”

“ No, no. That’s alright” (Y/N) exclaims, sounding a little flustered as she pulls away from Bucky and presses pause on her phone, plunging them all in silence.

“ I’m gonna get going in a moment. Need to catch an early flight tomorrow morning. “

“ Aw, so soon? Well okay but it was so nice to meet you Sam. You’re welcome at any future party or just drop in at the diner whenever you’re around.” (Y/N) says and pulls him into a hug.

“ I will don’t worry. Told you, I like you already.”

They share another quick hug before (Y/N) excuses herself to get Sam’s jacket from another room, leaving Sam and Bucky alone on the balcony.

“ Do not say a word!” Bucky orders as he notices yet another grin forming on Sam’s face.

“ I didn’t say anything.”

“ But you want to. I can see it.”

“ What would I possibly say, Buck? That you’ve got it bad? You know that yourself. “

“ It’s not like that.”

“ Okay, if you say so. “ Sam complies and lets another silence fall over them.

That’s until he speaks up yet again “ You dance. Man, I can’t believe it. Hey, can you waltz?”

“ Shut up! “

The party is slowly but surely winding down. A lot of people have left by now.

Some are asleep on the couch. On the floor. Against the wall.

A few are still lingering around, talking in low voices. Slurred words, tired eyes, light hearts.

Bucky tries not to step on anyone as he maneuvers his way around the apartment, trying to find the room where (Y/N) put all the jackets. It’s time for him to go, no matter how much he wants to hold onto the moment. He’s tired and the party is as good as over. And anyway, he hasn’t seen (Y/N) in a while.

“ Psst, Grumpy“

(Y/N) peeks out from behind a door, beckoning him closer. As he steps into the room he’s embraced by a warm amber glow coming from a string of fairy lights that frame one wall.

On her bed, (Y/N) sits and leans against the headboard, balancing a laptop on her legs. The wall behind her is covered in photographs. Some of her, some of people he doesn’t know. There are pictures taken at concerts, theme parks, the beach. She’s smiling in most of them. Happy. Memories of a lifetime forever caught on film.

This, Bucky realizes then, is something he wants. Not right now but eventually. To make memories. Ones that last. Ones that don’t get taken away from him. And someone to make those memories with him.

“ Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you,” Bucky asks as she pats the blanket and he sits down on the bed next to her.

“ I’ve been looking for this movie and I finally found a decent copy we can watch.”

“ Now? “

“ Yes now. It’s supposed to be a really good one. I think you’ll like it. “

Bucky’s tired. He honestly just wants to go home and try to find at least a few hours of sleep. But she does it again, that thing where she smiles and his heart does the weird fluttery thing. And he can’t say no to that. Why would he ever want to say no to that?

So he scoots backward to rest against the headboard as well and his eyes take in the swirly white font on the screen spelling out Casablanca over the black and white image of a map of Africa.

His smile won’t be suppressed anymore. It takes over his face like it belongs right there.

"Thought you were waiting for a special occasion?"

“ I was and I found it. Now, what’s the romantic lesson I can learn from this one? “ (Y/N) asks as her head comes to rest on his right shoulder.

Bucky considers it for a moment, tries to recall exactly what happens. Some details are fuzzy, some lost altogether. But he remembers the core of it all. The love shared between two people.

“ It is about sacrificing the thing you want most in life to make sure the people you love are safe and happy. It’s about putting the one you love above yourself and breaking your own heart in order to keep theirs from breaking. Love is selfless, never selfish. And love is worth it. I think that’s what it’s about. “

“ That’s a lovely sentiment. But so sad too.”

Bucky only nods in agreement and as the title credits roll he wonders if he’ll ever get the chance to really figure out love. To fall for someone and love them so much he’d give up everything to see them happy. Even himself.

Though they call it the city that never sleeps, New York seems to grow tired. It grows calm and quiet and maybe for a second it falls into a slumber in the same way that both Bucky and (Y/N) fall asleep, cuddled up on her bed, while Ingrid Bergman flies away on a plane and Humphry Bogard walks into the black of night.

Bucky hasn’t slept in a bed in months in fear of nightmares and terrors lurking in the dark corner of his mind.

That night he doesn’t have nightmares. In fact that night he dreams. Of slow dancing on a balcony with only the stars bearing witness to the moment. He dreams of red slippers and fairy lights and black and white movies.

That night he doesn’t have nightmares. Only sweet dreams.

Taglist // if you want to be added or taken off just message me :) //:

@zaynzierulez // @je-like-you // @dracoxxyoflam // @jackiehollanderr // @majo240820 // @kay-gilles // @booksb4looksstuff // @jckie94 // @charmed-asylum // @shawnie--jo // @yllwtaxi // @tailsoflightning //@giuliarogers

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #james barnes x reader #james barnes x female reader #winter soldier x reader #he has too many names idk what else to tag

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ardwynna · 5 years ago

Note

Saying “children should not be exposed to sex” is not “infantilization” it is common sense, and has been agreed upon by society at large. And them being exposed to it doesn’t help them “learn and grow” it is traumatizing. It does the opposite of that. Please step outside your bubble and learn more about this before you do something harmful.

Let’s talk about my bubble. I was a health counselor in college. A high school biology teacher for a stint after that. I am a doctor now. Human biological and psychosocial development is a thing I actually have a bit of learning and experience with, if you can imagine. And I have given ‘The Talk’ in quite a few varied forms.

Now, by “children”, do you mean prepubescents only, the way people generally do? Or are you including adolescents as well, like fandom police? Either way, there is a level of sex talk you can give to prepubescents, they do often want to know where babies come from. Some of them even get the Penis-In-Vagina bit of The Talk and handle it pretty well.

Adolescents on the other hand, well, maybe you’re a fan of US-style Abstinence Only education. I am not. So not. Comprehensive sex education all the way. No ifs, ands or buts. They’re literally going through sexual development. How can you stomach keeping people ignorant about what’s happening to them? It’s dangerous, and in my thinking, unethical. They need to be prepared. You ever explained to a class of thirteen year olds what oral sex and dental dams are? I have. You ever described vaginal secretions and ovulation changes to sixteen year olds? I have. And for the record, they brought it up. Curiosity is normal at that age and they had questions. Some of them were already experimenting and putting themselves at all kinds of risk from ignorance. Lucky I have the actual schooling and certification to answer those questions, eh?

Now, lets talk about fandom. Fanfic is entertainment. Fanart is entertainment. Fandom content creators are for the most part a bunch of marginalized amateurs chucking out works for their own amusement and any friends they can make with similar tastes in this rapidly wildening internet. Fanfic is not The Talk. Fanart is not a How-To. You have a better chance getting a decent version of The Talk at PornHub. You don’t expect people to learn sexual behavior from Game of Thrones, do you? Why would you expect them to go learn it from fandom? Why do you think fandom is such a huge influence? Because I promise you, as huge a part of your life as it might be right now, it’s a drop in a bucket compared to the rest of the world. It just doesn’t have the reach or the capability to serve as an ‘educational’ source. Nobody is saying kids should come to fandom to learn about sex. But if they get an eyeful, honestly the stuff they see here isn’t going to be much worse than Cinemax on a Saturday night.

Now, we have established that adolescents have sexual interest, even if it’s just the academic kind for some of them. We have established that knowledge is better than ignorance. We have established that fandom is not nor should be the source of that knowledge, or sure as shit not the only one.

Now let’s talk about exposure.

To sign up for social media sites, and frankly most online accounts, you have to be at least 13. Adolescent. An age of sexual development and curiosity. At 13, you are deemed old enough to leave the kiddy pool and start swimming with the rest of us. And that means learning how to operate in the wider world. It means sharing space with a wider age group than you’re used to. It means learning how to decide what is for you, what is not for you, and what is not for you yet. Same way you pass the cigs and alcohol in the convenience store before you’re old enough, you can bypass a tagged, age-rated and warned-for fic and stick to something more age-appropriate. But you do have to get used to seeing these things, and passing them by, and saying “Not now.” That’s part of living in a society. If you opt to use a fake ID to bypass the barrier, if you opt to lie about your age online, that’s on you. Only you. The adult world does not stop just because minors exist. The protections of prepubescent childhood are not meant to last forever. Adolescence is a training stage.

So if ‘children’ are being exposed to sex in fandom, they’re exposing themselves. And that’s on their parents and caregivers for not giving them proper guidelines, not enforcing those guidelines, or not giving them enough proper education to satisfy their natural curiosity, or counteract whatever fantabulous imaginary sexual escapade they go looking for online. You can’t leave kids’ welfare up to distant strangers on the internet. Distant strangers, I must add, who have EVERY RIGHT to freedom of expression and living their adult lives to the fullest. The presence of teenagers does not change that. The teens have the tools now to protect themselves. They have the tags and the warnings. But they insist on acting like actual children, prepubescents, and not people who should be practicing their basic life skills. The teenagers on social media and fandom sites need to step up and meet fandom halfway. They cannot be babied forever.

So either the ‘children’ hike off to go ask Alice, if Mommy and Daddy completely dropped the ball, or they start practicing some self control. Because wherever the adults go, the kids follow. They follow despite lockdowns, they click despite warnings, they read despite age recommendations, and that’s entirely on the kids. Because nobody put a gun to their head and made them click.

#such dull people #fandom police #purity patrol #cue mrs. lovejoy

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sirisuorionblack · 4 years ago

Text

The doctor (part 1)

Cedric Diggory x Reader

Summary - When a 25 year old single father Cedric Diggory was woken up by his daughter to get shots he knew something was going to happen but not in the slightest bit did he know he was going to find a new love. (Muggle AU)

Warning - Swearing

Part 1 Part 2

"Daddy!" A voice and little hands of his daughter disturbed Cedric's deep slumber, "Papa, wake up,"

Cedric groaned, his hands blindly searched for his toddler and pulled her underneath his arm, forcing her to lay still. She giggled, "Papa, wake up, its 10,"

He turned his head so that his cheek was pressed against the soft pillows and his eyes were on his baby girl, "Today is Sunday,"

She smiled, snuggling closer into her father's chest. Cedric adjusted so he was laying on his back with his daughter pressed against his chest, "We need to get your shots today, shouldn't we?" He asked sensing his daughter's sudden give up.

She pouted, "Yes". Being a single father was not something Cedric hoped or wanted at the ripe age of 25.

Cedric sighed, rolling to the side making him tower over his daughter who looked up at her father with wide grey eyes. His eyes. She was a carbon copy of his father except for her hair, raven, just like her mother's and just as stubborn as her.

Cedric had never felt a pull like he had to the woman, she was his first love and was supposed to be forever until she felt the need to leave him and want a divorce. Why? He would never know, all he knew on that horrible day was a terrible fight one minute and another minute he was begging his wife not to leave, holding his seven month old daughter delicately in his arms, tears streaking his cheeks. That was a long time ago but they still haven't gotten a divorce.

"Love, we have to get your shots so you stay healthy, right?" He asked, wiping the strand hairs from her forehead.

She hummed sadly, "I don't want to,"

"We can go to the beach after it,"

She pouted, "B-but we need to get many shots,"

Cedric closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shaking off the image of his daughter's quivering lips and tear-filled eyes, "We can do whatever you want after we get it done."

A small smile formed on her face after he proposed his offer, "Late bedtime?" He agreed to all of what she had listed when she finally agreed to get to the hospital.

Both of them get ready quickly so there is no sudden change of decisions and within half an hour they hit the road to the nearest clinic Cedric had booked an appointment at.

"Ms. (L/N)?" Cedric called, knocking on the door of the doctor's office and peeking in.

A young woman turned around and Cedric felt air knocked out of his lungs, she looked beautiful, almost setting an example to the word in his eyes.

"Hello!" she greeted cheerfully, beaming at them. Carrying his little girl in his arms he walked to sit before the doctor's desk.

"Hey," she cooed at his daughter who had her arms tightly wrapped around his neck, her head leaning against his jaw.

"Charlotte Diggory, is it?" She asked looking at the report, "Can I call you Angel?" She asked, grabbing the attention of the toddler in Cedric's arms who nodded with a small blush.

"Well then, Angel, you are here for your," she read the report carefully and grimaced, "shots. Ah, man. I guess you don't want it?"

Charlotte looked at the doctor with wide hopeful eyes and nodded enthusiastically, "Aw, Angel, I hate those too, you know?"

"The needle, it hurts," Cedric’s daughter said, pouting.

The doctor hummed, "I mean if you think it does, then it sure will. Alright now, what do you like the most?"

Charlotte's eyes widened as she spoke about her favourite cartoon character to the doctor who listened carefully and replied at the right moment. Cedric felt a surge of respect for the girl in front of him, the way she interacted with his daughter was something he liked, something he perhaps will grow fond of.

"You love milky bars!?" (Y/N) asked, she looked as though she finally got something that she needed, "How about I give you a deal?" She asked the little girl, reaching into her drawer and pulled out two bars of the chocolate Charlotte loved making him buy loads and loads.

"You get your shots and I give you these, alright?" she asked, looking at the toddler expectantly who was contemplating on the offer and finally deciding chocolates held more worth than needles and agreeing to the offer.

(Y/N) grinned standing up from her seat and taking Cedric's daughter into her arms.

With the minimal amount of screaming from his daughter and maximum giggles and talks, they bid goodbye to the doctor announcing their return tomorrow.

The next day, Charlotte was excited to get her shots that even Cedric was afraid she was getting addicted to, but alas, they had to walk-in in the evening around 7.

"You're leaving?" He asked (Y/N) once they reached the hospital and saw her locking her office door with her bag slung over her shoulder, her coat and stethoscope draped over her arm.

"Ah, well, yep, I did an overtime, so," she said, looking apologetically, "You're here for your shots, aren't you?"

Charlotte nodded disappointedly, "Well, my friend here is a cool paediatrician she will take care of those," (Y/N) said, pointing at the room opposite to hers.

"I can stay here with you if you want," she added, seeing Charlotte let her head lull against her father dejectedly.

"Yes," "No," the father and the daughter answered simultaneously.

"No, princess, she gotta go, she did an overtime," Cedric explained to his daughter.

"Oh, it's alright," (Y/N) said dismissively, and took Charlotte from Cedric's grasp who happily went into her arms.

Cedric felt a sudden pang of jealousy of the girl who took his daughter from his arms but it dissipated as soon as it appeared. Charlotte hadn't been held by a woman other than Cedric's mother for months now and she didn't want it either, she was content being in her father's embrace yet today she had voluntarily moved into a girl's arms.

"Hey, Em," she greeted the doctor in the opposite room she had pointed at, "Shots,"

"Ah," The doctor - Emily - said, preparing the injection. Charlotte had buried her face into (Y/N)'s shoulder.

"Hey, Angel," (Y/N) said, grabbing the attention of the little girl, distracting her as Emily neared to get the injection done, "What was the character you said you liked the most?" She started the conversation with ease as the doctor injected the medicine, soon realising what happened Charlotte burst into tears.

(Y/N) bounced Cedric's daughter in her arms, rubbing her back soothingly and paced the room, whispering sweet nothings. And at that moment Cedric's heart melted into puddles, the way she held his daughter was something compared to a way a mother would hold her child, the sweet nothings would just add on.

"You alright, yeah?" (Y/N) asked, wiping the little girl's eyes, pressing a kiss to her forehead and chuckled, "That's it! Done. One last time tomorrow and no more shots!" She exclaimed happily, handing Charlotte back to Cedric who cradled his daughter against his chest.

"I can drop you if you want," Cedric offered (Y/N) as they walked to the exit of the hospital.

"Oh, it's alright, it's nearby. Besides, I gotta get a few things," She said, politely.

"Well, I can walk you,"

"What? No no, it's alright,"

"Oh come on, I insist,"

After loads of convincing (Y/N) finally gave in, agreeing Cedric to walk with her. Charlotte wiggled from his arms and walked between the two of them, her hand clasped in her father's.

They chatted casually, speaking about anything and everything until they reached near a pub when a woman stumbled forward and into Cedric's arms. As she caught him to steady herself, Cedric's heart clenched, it was his wife.

Looking at his taken aback and frozen form, (Y/N) pulled the little girl closer to her.

"Cedric," she slurred, pouting, "How are you? I missed you a lot,"

Cedric's breath hitched when she said those words and leaned more into him. Somewhere deep in his heart he wanted to give her a chance, but he knew he had given a lot of those, perhaps begged for it yet she didn't use it rather abandoned him and his daughter. He could still not let go the sight of his constant crying daughter as he desperately attempted to calm her down, or when she had longingly looked at mothers holding their children when Cedric held her unable to change it, or at the times he let his daughter alone at his friend's to go for the hearing, it was all because of the woman in front of him and he would never forgive her for it.

He gently pushed her back and guided his daughter and (Y/N) away before his wife shrieked, "Charlotte! My baby girl," she rushed to the little scared girl who held her father's hand tightly.

"Oh, how much you have grown up," she said, dragging a hand down her face.

"Get away from her," Cedric said, as his daughter shuffled to hide behind his leg.

"You can tell me to get away, I am her mother!" She said, glaring at him.

"You have lost the position long ago," Cedric replied through gritted teeth.

"No! Ho-how?" Her eyes fell on (Y/N) who had looked at the interaction confused, "You!" She yelled, stumbled towards her.

Cedric moved to shield (Y/N) from his drunk wife, "Don't drag her into this,"

She gasped, "she stole you from me! That monstrous thing stole you from me!"

More than simply offended by her statement, (Y/N) scrunched her face, "I didn't steal anything from you, you might've lost it. Besides, I don't even know who the hell you are!" She said, angrily marching away with Charlotte tagging along as Cedric turned to deal with the woman in front of him who still stared at the retreating doctor.

"What do you want!?" He asked, irritated.

"You! Come back, we can live together, raise Charlotte like you've always wanted,"

"Live together?" Cedric asked scoffing, "come back, huh? I never left you but you did when Charlotte was just a baby, you didn't want us, you left us at the wrong time,"

"I am sorry, Cedric-" she said, looking at the verge of tears just as he knew he looked somewhat similar.

"Don't." He said sternly, raising his index finger to stop her, "Save it."

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and left in search of his daughter and the girl who sat on a bench huddled together.

"Papa!" Charlotte yelled, rushing into his arms as he crouched, holding her close, "Papa, who was that?"

Cedric gulped not knowing what to say to his daughter, "Don't worry about it, princess," he said, leaning to press a kiss to her forehead.

"That's your...?" (Y/N) asked as Cedric carried a fast asleep Charlotte in his arms.

He chuckled sadly, "My wife, or ex-wife, we didn't get divorced yet,"

"Oh," she said and opened her mouth as if curious to ask another question but resorted to letting them walk in silence while Cedric still wanted to vent.

"Charlotte was seven months when she left," he said, looking down at his daughter's calm asleep face fondly as if etching it in his mind so that it's all he would be able to see and not the contrast of it.

"What?" (Y/N) asked, flabbergasted, "Seven months? She was-oh my goodness," she ran her fingers through her hair.

"You took care of her alone?" She asked, surprise still written all over her face.

"Yeah," Cedric frowned, tears glistening his eyes as a trail of those horrid nights flashed in his mind, "I don't know how I did it,"

She stared at him as if wanting to console him any possible way and as he turned around and she saw his eyes, she wrapped her arms around his torso in an extremely short and quick hug, "I am so sorry," she muttered.

Cedric closed his eyes, the warmth from her seeping into his body was something that he wanted to treasure yet he couldn't, "It's alright,"

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" She asked.

"No, I have to go, you know," he said, jerking his head towards his daughter.

"Ah, ok, take care,"

"Ugh! I dunno! If she had just told me yesterday morning I would have done something," Cedric heard (Y/N) exclaim to her friend inside her office when they had come the next day to get Charlotte's final shot. Cedric knew he shouldn't eavesdrop but the tone of her voice was so intricate that he had to listen.

"She had left a letter on your door yesterday evening," Emily said.

"I came home late yesterday-"

"That's your mistake,"

"Besides, left a letter!? She could've texted me, is she that back in technology!?"

"That doesn't matter,"

"Yes it does, if she had texted me I would have done something about it earlier and not be homeless now!"

Cedric knocked on the door, feeling too uncomfortable to eavesdrop anymore and as an idea popped in his mind. A terrible idea.

"Come in!" She yelled from inside.

"Hey, Angel," she greeted with a wide grin that was almost impossible to tell whether fake or not.

"Um, I couldn't help but hear over your conversation," Cedric said, and quickly added after he saw her raise an eyebrow, "And I am sorry about that. But if you don't mind, there is an extra room in our flat and you stay there until you get home,"

Cedric felt so stupid uttering those words and had no idea where this confidence in him raised from. She gasped at him and stood up.

#cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory #cedric x reader #cedric x y/n #domestic!cedric diggory x reader #father!Cedric Diggory x Reader #harry Potter x Reader #harry potter

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yoonsshadow · 4 years ago

Text

ETERNAL - i

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; murder, death, violence, blood, guns, burnt bodies, nudity [nonsexual], nightmares, drugs? [sleeping pills], a bunch of boys being in love

➳ word count ; 4.8k

➳ note ; I watched The Old Guard on Netflix [a serious recommend if you haven’t already seen it] and got hit with major inspiration. Nothing better than found-family and immortal soulmates. I put of a lot of time, effort and love into this, so please treat it with delicate hands. And please, please, give me feedback if you like it. Thank you, and enjoy :)

They have done this before, enough times—too many times—to be familiar with the routine.

The nightmares, all too vivid and yet frustratingly vague, of blood and pain and death. Glimpses of a face they have never seen, memories that do not belong to them. The lingering thoughts of why another, why now, why at all?

They have done this many times, and yet it never gets easier, never makes sense.

⎯⎯⎯

When they submit to the clutches of slumber, it is beneath the glowing moonlight that shines through the broken ceiling of an abandoned church. Overgrown with vines that hold the crumbling walls together and hidden behind bushes and weeds and shadows, this building will be safe, for them. For now. It may not provide much warmth, or much shelter, but it gives them a sense of anonymity that they so desperately depend on. Right now, it hides them from the world. They are nothing but each other’s, so long as they are here.

Usually, sleep brings peace. Long ago did they learn how to banish demons from their dreams, memories of pasts both true and terrible, and so through sleep they find temporary solace from the demands of their long lives. They hold each other in their warm arms, forget about their worries if only for a brief moment. They are but seven men, seven soulmates, seven loves, existing together without burden.

Until tonight.

It is familiar, the weight that descends upon their chests, pushes against their rib cages. An invisible force both squeezing them and pulling them apart, flooding them with vague images, sounds, feelings. In sleep, they hold each other tighter, safer, but they cannot escape the myriad of memories and thoughts that fill their minds.

A pair of eyes, so brown that they are pure, so dark that they are nearly black, blink at them as sweat begins to shine upon their skin. These eyes are young, but they hold wisdom, maturity, that can only come with death. Witnessing it, causing it, experiencing it. These eyes are filled with desperation in this moment, but also a stubborn determination; they know what is coming, and yet they will continue to fight until their dying breath, as they vowed⎯⎯

⎯⎯a uniform, black, stained with dirt and blood, without any identifying marks. No dog-tags, but a tan line around a soft neck where they would normally hang. Trained muscles behind firm fabric, knowledgeable fingers clutching a military assault rifle. Steel-toed boots, scuffs through the polish, dirt in the seams and drops of red in the laces⎯⎯

⎯⎯heart beating through chest, adrenaline spiking, but something’s wrong, this isn’t supposed to happen, how did they know we were coming? Need to get out, need to get to cover, need to save⎯⎯

⎯⎯the enemies found them, caught them, have them, bound and bloodied in a dark cave or dungeon, they can’t tell. Chains rattle against stone where bodies shift for comfort, but no comfort can be found for bleeding wounds, broken bones, bruised skin. Eyes connect, know they’re saying goodbye, can’t speak but wish they could say something, apologise, curse, plead, pray. By the time footsteps stomp their way in, handgun cocked and aimed at their foreheads, they have already accepted that⎯⎯

Gasps echo in the silence as seven bodies jerk awake, trembling and sweating and aching with pains that another is experiencing. Their minds are still clouded, submerged within their dreams, but they know this routine. They know what they have just seen.

Hands scramble beneath their makeshift bedding as they reach for their journals, their pens, and begin to scribble whatever details they can remember ⎯ eyes, blood, pain, death. They’ve all clung to different images, and they desperately remember everything they can before it washes away with their wakeful clarity.

“I saw, um, eyes,” chokes the youngest, his pencil already sketching the eyelashes with careful precision. “Brown, dark. Looked like a girl’s.”

“She had to be military,” says another. “Maybe special forces? No insignia on the uniform and dog-tags were taken off. Black-ops?”

“I saw a glimpse of a scar on her hand. Might help to identify her.”

“There were others, too; a team. I have a feeling she was the leader.”

“It was a rescue operation, but I don’t think they succeeded. The enemies saw them coming. She was confused as to how.”

“Did you see the gun she was shot with? That’s military grade. It was either supplied by somebody on the force, or they were the force.”

“God, I have a headache.” Seokjin rubs his temples, a pain lingering behind his eyes but never ceding. “Never thought after three-hundred years that we’d get another one.”

Arms curl around him, a sigh breathed into his neck. “Me too, hyung.” Jeongguk nuzzles closer, finds comfort in the warmth of his lover’s broad shoulders. “I feel sorry for her. Now she’s going to have to deal with this too.”

“Hey, what did I say about pessimism?” Namjoon’s pointed look is directed towards the youngest, but the words are for everybody to hear. A reminder. “Our lives may be long, and hard, and difficult to deal with at times. But we have the opportunity to help people, to affect change, and, most importantly,” his eyes soften, “to have each other.”

“Wah, hyung’s going soft on us,” Taehyung grins, leaning his head on Namjoon’s shoulder.

Behind him, Jimin clings around his torso like a koala. “Yeah, those are big words for somebody who so often tells us how insufferable we are,” he agrees.

Sitting up, Yoongi joins the conversation with a voice still deep with sleep. “That’s because you are insufferable. But that doesn’t mean that hyungs love you any less. Eternal life would be extremely dull if we didn’t have you annoying us constantly.”

Taehyung and Jimin smile at each other, eyes glittering with something devious, and something close to love. “You all just bore witness to that,” Jimin says, pointing at Yoongi. “You all heard him say that, so you can’t yell at us for being annoying ever again!”

“Free pass!” Taehyung agrees.

Hoseok, still lounging his head in Yoongi’s lap, rolls his eyes. “Yoongi-hyung said it, but none of us did, so we can, and will, still yell at you.”

The two pout, but question it no further. They could spend centuries arguing over petty things⎯have, regrettably⎯but they’d much rather get along. For now, forever.

“Hyungs,” a small voice whispers into the silent air, drawing attention to where the maknae still hugs into Seokjin’s back. He’s pouting, and they want to coo at him, but his next words break them out of their reverie of adoration. “What about the girl?”

Your ears are ringing when you finally wake, images of your nightmares still clinging to your mind, so vivid, so real. They were filled with pain, and fear, and the bloodied faces of your soldiers as they were shot one after the other. You remember screaming for them, pleading, hoping against hope that they’d listen. But, instead, you had watched them die.

You hope that you didn’t scream aloud, didn’t wake your team. They deserve the rest, even if you couldn’t have it.

Muscles stiff and aching from a restless slumber, you shift in your cot, move to adjust the blanket. But your cot is harder than you’d like, your blanket out of reach. In fact, you can’t move your arms at all.

When your heavy eyelids finally open, you realise why your dreams had felt so real.

The stench of blood and death is so thick in the air that you can taste it, that bitter tang against your tongue bringing bile up to the back of your throat. Your body isn’t just sore, it’s screaming; it’s as though you can feel your muscles re-knitting together after being torn apart. And maybe it’s panic that crushes against your lungs, constricting your airways, or maybe it’s grief.

Because as soon as your eyes land on the dead bodies of your teammates, you can’t breathe.

Your throat is so sore from screaming and crying that the sounds escaping it are torn and scratchy, but you can’t hold them in. Not when you see your friend’s brain splattered over the wall behind her; not when you see your second-in-command holding her hands together, mid-prayer when the shot was fired.

You sob, and yell, and cry out until your throat is raw, and then when you have no voice left, you continue. You may not be dead yet⎯and for what reason, you don’t want to know⎯but you don’t think that you’ll ever truly live after this. How does one move on from their friends, their family, being slaughtered before their very eyes? How does one process the fact that they were left behind?

Through the crushing weight on your chest and the searing pain in your throat, you hear footsteps approaching. The heavy boots do nothing to hide their owner’s steps, impatient and strong, but you can’t find it within yourself to be afraid. The worst thing they can do is torture you some more, maybe even kill you, but you’d welcome death at this stage; you’d welcome reprieve from the sorrow that threatens to swallow you whole.

It’s a man, unsurprisingly, who walks through the mouth of the dark cave, ugly face covered by a mask pulled up to his eyes. He looks at you, something in his half-hidden expression that you don’t have the energy to place, and then says something in a language that you cannot understand.

Heaving a breath and swallowing blood, you meet his sharp eyes. “I don’t understand you.” Your words scratch their way out, hardly discernible, so you try again. “I won’t tell you anything, so just kill me and get it over with.”

This time he shouts, still angry but this time not at you, though he never tears his gaze off your crumpled figure. Like if he blinks, you may disappear.

Once again, hurried and heavy footsteps make their way into the room, a pair of men joining their comrade. These ones are holding guns. You can’t find it within yourself to flinch.

More foreign words are thrown at you, some that seem like questions, but your mind is too rattled, head too sore, to even try to comprehend what they might want from you. Your shoulders ache from where your arms are secured behind you, and your legs ache from hours⎯maybe days?⎯of disuse. So you sigh, level what you hope is a glare towards the two newcomers, and repeat, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Looks exchanged between them, hesitation, and then, “You should be dead. Why are you not dead?”

In a moment of weighted silence, you try to determine if they’re serious. Because surely they aren’t asking you how you are alive while being held captive by them. But they don’t elaborate, so you’re left with an even greater migraine than before. “Are you fucking serious?”

The expletive makes them simultaneously point their rifles at you, and this time, you do stiffen. You may be feeling slightly suicidal right now, but you also have reflexes.

“I don’t know why I’m alive.” The admission is spat from between your teeth, reluctant and bitter. “Why don’t you ask whoever it was that killed the rest of my team?”

“I killed your team,” one of them says. The first one. Without a gun, obviously having thought there would be no threat in entering this dungeon. “I killed you, too, shot you in the head myself. So tell me again. Why are you alive?”

“Maybe you’re a bad shot,” you reply. “How am I to fucking know why you let me live? Now do me a favour, will you? Either let me go or shoot me for real this time.”

You don’t have time to register the sound of the gunshot before the bullet goes through your forehead.

“Anything?”

A sigh is the only response that Namjoon receives.

“Alright,” he continues, “what do we know for sure about her?”

“Honestly, hyung?” Jimin looks up from the laptop he’s perched at. “I don’t think we even truly know if it’s a woman. We saw her⎯their⎯eyes, but not much else. Like, sure, we think it’s a woman, we’re pretty sure of it, but nothing’s certain. The visions were really vague this time around.”

“He’s right,” Yoongi agrees, never looking up from the screen of his own computer. “I’ve been searching the military databases, but it’s hard to pinpoint covert operations that don’t technically exist. We didn’t get a dog tag number, or an insignia, or even an idea of which country’s military she’s in. I hate to say it, but we might just need to wait until tonight. Get some more pieces of the puzzle.”

This is what Namjoon was afraid of, not that he was expecting anything else. His boys are good, but even they can’t work miracles.

“I feel sorry for her,” Jeongguk hums, cheek pressed into the couch cushion where he’s taken a rest from research. Not that he ever really started; that was always his hyungs’ strong points. “I mean, she’s all alone right now, probably really confused, really scared. I know I was before you all found me.”

That sentence strains their hearts, makes them pause. Jeongguk had been alone for nearly a decade before they had finally found him, lonely and of unsound mind, unaware of the curse he’d been unwillingly given. They’d spent years helping him heal, helping him accept, and now they can proudly say that he is stable and content. Happy, even, sometimes.

You, however. You are in the exact same place that he was. Maybe worse, they don’t know.

Taking slow steps towards the couch, Hoseok gently lifts Jeongguk’s legs to place them on his lap when he sits. He feels the strong calf muscles beneath his fingers as he strokes the uncovered skin, bare only for their eyes, until the young one has relaxed his worried muscles.

“I know it’s hard, Jeongguk-ie,” Hoseok says, voice just above a whisper, soft and yet sure. “I know that we all want to find her as soon as possible, but we can’t just yet. Hopefully the next dream will give us more, but until then, we just have to stay focused. Let’s not get lost in that mental spiral, okay?”

Jeongguk hums, not fully sated with the answer but understanding nonetheless. “M’kay, hyung.”

The comfortable silence in the room following their conversation doesn’t even stretch five minutes before a figure slams into the building, flourishing his arms and announcing his arrival enthusiastically.

“We’re back, bitches!”

Seokjin follows behind Taehyung, closing the church doors after the younger had slammed them open and looking exhausted. “Taehyung chatted with the cashier for half an hour before he even asked for help. We could have been back hours ago.”

“Hey.” Taehyung directs a look at the oldest. “Her outfit coordination was unlike anything I’ve seen this century. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s as old as Hoseok-ie hyung!”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Hoseok asks Seokjin, who is smiling despite himself.

“Definitely a compliment. I’ll admit, she reminded me of that one fashion mogul we knew in Paris. The one...Jimin, you know the one I’m talking about. Red hair, lazy eye?”

“It wasn’t a lazy eye, hyung,” Jimin corrects, “she was just keeping an eye out in all directions.”

“Yeah, anyway,” Seokjin says, “none of that matters. We got the stuff. Took a while, but we got it.”

Taehyung empties his plastic shopping bag onto a wiped-down old table, cardboard boxes falling onto the surface. “I’ve got to say, modern medicine is pretty ground-breaking. I wish we were smart enough to have invented it earlier.”

“Do you think it’ll work?” Yoongi asks, sounding a lot less interested than he actually is. “I wouldn’t think that sleeping pills would affect us.”

At this, Namjoon bites his lip. “Usually, I’d agree with you, but I’ve been doing some thinking. If the pills aren’t hurting us, our bodies shouldn’t heal too quickly; they should still have time to take effect. Just like how we can get drunk but not have liver issues, or smoke but not get cancer.”

“But smoking’s still gross,” Jeongguk mumbles.

“So,” Hoseok ponders aloud, “if we take the pills, it should prolong our sleep so that we can lengthen the dream? Do you think it’ll work?”

“We’ve never been able to test it,” Namjoon shrugs. “The worst thing that could happen is our body processes it quicker than it works, and we have a normal night’s sleep with normal visions. It’s worth a shot.”

“I think a few of us should not take the pills,” Seokjin says. “That way, if the pills really do work, some of us can still wake up normally in case of an emergency.”

Namjoon nods his head in agreement. “Okay. We’ll rock-paper-scissors it tonight. Until then, let’s rest.”

The second time you wake up, you are significantly less disorientated. You know where you are, what has happened and, most importantly, that you should definitely be dead.

You’d seen the gun, heard the click, felt the bullet spilt through your skull. You know what a killing shot is, have dealt a few yourself, so you know that you should not be opening your eyes to an intense headache right now.

An acrid odour drifts through your dazed thoughts, a stench so strong, so unpleasant, that bile immediately rises and spills from your mouth. You don’t have much to vomit, so you spit mostly water and stomach acid onto the ground beneath you as you wretch from your aching throat.

No, not the ground. Something far worse.

When the tears from your eyes clear away and you look to the ground, you see what is digging into your skin, jabbing at your muscles; you aren’t sure why, or how, but you are lain across a pile of bones and scraps of cloth, sizzling flesh still warm to the touch and sticking to you in chunks. You are atop a pile of burnt bodies, unharmed and soaked to the bone with the reeking smell of charred flesh.

Your stomach is empty, and so you can only scramble from the pile and retch.

For several minutes, all you can do is allow your body’s attempt to empty itself on the ground. Even more so than before, your mind is overwhelmed with thoughts and questions and worries, most of which lead to the fact that you are lying naked in the middle of a desert, next to a pile of burnt bodies, unharmed and somehow alive.

You are at least thankful that you are already lying on the ground when you faint.

There are seven pairs of eyes⎯brown, warm⎯that look at you, look at each other. Words remain unspoken, for the pupils reveal every thought, every emotion. I care for you deeply, they say, now and forever. The words are not meant for you, not yet, but they feel familiar. As if you have heard them in every past life⎯

⎯Surrounded by trees, a sight which would usually calm you but now only acts as a hindrance, you run through the familiar forest without grace. Bare feet bleed trails of red through the undergrowth, sore arms never dropping the heavy weapons that slow you down so. You should not be alone, never usually are, but now you are accompanied only by your panic and the wolves that chase you. These ones, however, do not howl or gnash their feral jaws; they calculate, the way only a human can⎯

⎯Metal hangs heavy around your lithe neck, skin raw and bleeding beneath its unrelenting grip. Fingers grab into your filthy hair, knotting into your bun. Worthless piece of filth, growls a man. You are not unfamiliar with his tone, nor his insults, though this is the first time you have felt a glob of saliva being spat onto your cheek. Can’t even follow the basic rules. Somebody really ought to make an example of you⎯

⎯This room is bright, brighter than the last, and yet somehow glooms darker than all. Shadows hang heavy in the corner where invasive eyes hide, but you can look only to the man who sits in front of you, posture relaxed despite the tensity that thickens the air. Go on, he taunts as you are shoved to your knees, the pain nothing compared to the fear that fills you at the sight of the executioner’s sword. Show us that smile of yours. Grant the world one more. Grant him, he nods towards another figure who you refuse to meet gazes with, one last dazzling grin. You do not, but you do whisper an apology under your breath, one that will never be heard⎯

⎯Gold silk hangs from your broad shoulders, the fabric draping gracefully down your tall body. Each detail stitched into the delicate robe sparkles in the candlelight, patterns that tell stories of love and power and beauty. Jeonha, somebody says to you, a face that is hidden from your view. I am sorry for this, Jeonha. Gold silk soon turns crimson when the knife plunges into your back. You are not even allowed the courtesy of looking into your killer’s eyes⎯

⎯You had always thought that you would live longer, survive the odds set against you, but you know now, as your mother tends to the gash carved into your chest, that this time, luck is not your benefactor. It is not so bad, she assures, though you know the look in her eyes, see the light in them dimmed with grief of a life not yet lost. You wish to tell her everything, anything, but the words bubble up in your throat and you struggle to spit them out. She knows, though, you can see that she knows, and her calming hand rests over your heart, which beats slower and slower with each moment. I love you, my sun, my son. Rest well. Her hand grows cold, or maybe that is you. For you no longer feel, no longer worry, only close your eyes and fall⎯

⎯Urgency pumps your blood faster, the sound echoing in your ears, as your weeping eyes search around you. Nothing, not the chaos around you nor the wound in your shoulder, can stop your wobbly legs from moving, not when you have to find him. There you are, comes his voice from behind you, and you turn so quickly that you become dizzy. But he is there, wounded yet alive, and he is offering you a smile that you struggle to return. You fall into his arms, he into yours, hold each other with all the strength that you have. And when an arrow pierces through your heart, spearing through his chest, you are connected even when you fall, lifeless⎯

This time, you wake with a gasp and a speeding heart, images so vivid still lingering in your mind. Your chest is still sore where your heart lies, the organ heavy with another’s grief, and you are surprised to find yourself covered in your own tears.

Still in the dirt, still nude, still alive, and still confused, you know that the only way to survive is to keep moving. Memories of dreams that had felt so real may plague your mind for a while, but you cannot dwell. You have had nightmares before, strange and also plausible ones, and you know. You know that to submit to the darkness of your own mind is a death sentence in itself. So you stand up, dust off your bare skin, and begin walking in an unknown direction.

You only cast one glance back at the bodies behind you. Your team, in all probability. Your friends. You are leaving them in the middle of nowhere.

This, too, you do not allow yourself to dwell on. Not now. Not yet.

Though the night has long since begun, darkness creeping into every corner of the room, one figure lies awake, thinking. Listening.

He is selfish, he supposes, for choosing not to sleep in a time when it can be so important. He should be allowing the visions to greet him, remembering the details, soaking it all in. Instead, he blinks away his exhaustion in exchange for wandering thoughts. He is not ready to allow another’s memories into his mind; for his to enter their’s. He has unwillingly revealed his sins to far too many already.

Hoseok is afraid. And he is tired.

Around him, his six loves breathe deeply, bodies relaxed in slumber and minds lost to the visions of their eighth soul. Some stir, occasionally, and he is sure he’s heard one of the maknaes whimper, but all is otherwise silent.

He would die a million painful deaths just to ensure that they could maintain this peace forever. He supposes he has, already. But he doesn’t regret it. Not for them.

Though the silence is calming, it also beckons his eyes closed and his mind into darkness. So, in an attempt to battle the tantalising call of sleep, he rolls over, stands up, and quietly sneaks out of the crumbling building they’ve taken shelter in.

The air outside nips at his skin, prickling goosebumps down his back and arms, but it is always chilly at this time of year, in this part of Europe. He forgets which country they’re in. Possibly close to France, but likely somewhere in Italy. He can smell salt in the air, the ocean not far away.

Yes. Italy.

Through thick undergrowth and overgrown weeds he wanders, mind idle and busy all at once. His feet take him around the perimeter of the area⎯a consequence, he supposes, of living a paranoid life⎯but his thoughts are elsewhere. On a girl he has yet to meet. On you.

How will you react, he wonders, to this life? To them? Through the brief flashes he has seen of you, you are a woman who seems steadfast, capable, and determined. But he’d also seen your team; felt the love you hold for them. Will you be able to part from the life that you can no longer lead? Will you eventually accept them as your new family?

There are too many questions, too many things to worry about. This is why he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching him from behind until two arms wrap around his shoulders.

“You should be asleep.” The words are whispered beside his ear, warm breath fanning down his neck. He shivers, but doesn’t respond. “What’s wrong? Let me help.”

Hoseok sags into the strong embrace, allows the arms to tighten around his chest, and sighs. “I’m worried, Namjoon.” Namjoon hums, doesn’t say anything. “Is it selfish of me to not want to see her memories? To not want her in my head?”

A pair of plump lips kiss the tip of his ear. “Perhaps,” Namjoon says. When Hoseok stiffens, he pulls him closer. “But being selfish is not necessarily a bad thing. You are allowed to prioritise yourself every once in a while.” Namjoon can sense that Hoseok is not yet appeased, so he adds, “There are six of us here to take the visions when you can’t. And if you do decide to rest, there will be six of us here to hold you through it. Being selfish does not mean that you are alone.”

“I’m so tired,” Hoseok whispers, and they both know that he is not referring to his lack of sleep. “We’ve all got such baggage, so much hurt, and I wonder if adding the weight of an eighth will be too much.”

“Hey.” Namjoon gently turns Hoseok in his arms, holding him close still. They look into each other’s eyes, see everything that they have grown familiar with. That they have grown to love. “We will also have another person to help share the load. For now and forever, we are in this together. It’s okay to have doubts, or worries, but never forget that you are ours and we are yours.”

Foreheads touch and eyes close, the silence of the night engulfing them as they share each other’s heat. And here, they are okay. They still have fears, still have troubling thoughts, but they are not so bad when they are together.

“C’mon,” Namjoon mumbles. “Let’s go back inside. Whether you decide to sleep or not, we should stay with the others. You know how they can get about cuddle piles.”

This does make Hoseok breathe a laugh. “Okay. And hey, Namjoon.” He presses their lips together in a brief, soft kiss. “Thank you, my love.”

“My eternal,” Namjoon replies.

That night, they both allow sleep to take them. They join the others in dreams of bloodshed, heartache, and death. And they hold each other a little closer. And they are okay.

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634 notes · View notes

bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Seventeen ~ Split

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1482

Warnings: None

A/n Hello hello! I know it’s not one of my normal update days, but this one is short, so enjoy this angsty bonus chapter!

Cosima

Weeks pass in routine. In the mornings I research with Alex or study Sindarin alone, sometimes venturing into the garden or library to occupy my time. The lunch hours are typically spent in the company of friends, and Lavandil and I have been passing many of our afternoons together in her shop. As the summer continues, business only grows, and I can see why she asked for the help. Her art is quite popular! She tried to teach me how to weave and, unsurprisingly, I’m terrible. So I mainly help clean and work with the customers.

Three nights a week, Alex, Baranor and I meet in the library and continue our lessons. On that, I actually am making progress. It’s allowed me to converse with Lavandil’s customers in their own language. It’s also helped me feel much more self-sufficient here. No longer must I have to rely on Lavandil or Rumil to translate when we go out. Ellyn I speak with still have to slow their words and repeat things several times, and sometimes I must ask for clarification, but the progress really is liberating.

Two days a week, right after breakfast, Alex and I meet Elrond in his study.

Lord Elrond insists on using the power in his fæ to attempt to aid us in recovering our memories. I hate to admit it, but his efforts are wasted and, on my part, not really wanted. Besides the memory of Mara and Nonna, I don’t remember anything, and at this point, I’m not sure I want to. I’m already too attached to the people here, and I’ve seen where that’s gotten me. I don’t want to remember people from home — love them, miss them, and then realize I can never return to them.

I don’t make much progress, anyway. Most days, Alex and I have nothing but headaches and exhaustion to show for our work. Every now and then, one of us will remember something small — a passing event or an aquauntaince from childhood — but nothing of real interest. Elrond agrees that the headaches and exhaustion are signs that we are not yet healed from whatever ordeal resulted in us arriving in Arda. He’s been keeping an eye on our fæs — apparently they are somehow injured — and says that the original wounds are all but healed.

Alex’s progress is less encouraging. His old wounds are healing, but nearly every time Elrond or Baranor checks, there’s a new injury. They don’t know what’s causing it, but privately, I have a theory. While Alex says he’s accepted this world, knowing him, there’s a part that’s still hanging on to our homeworld. Maybe that’s causing too much stress to allow him to heal. Because I’m healing, and I’ve fully accepted this world for what it is — impossible, different, but real.

And then at night time, training continues with Haldir.

I am careful to keep distance between us except when absolutely necessary. By the way he does the same, he’s recognized the urgent precariousness of our situation. As much as I want to confess the feelings I keep so tightly bottled up inside, to fall into his arms and ask him to love me forever, I cannot.

Because my forever is abysmally different than his.

So I keep my distance.

My effort to avoid excessive contact or time with him is helped by the fact that, not long after our first training session, he became incredibly busy. Though relations between him and Glorfindel are still tense, the two work tirelessly to train the newer guard. Often, by the time I make my way down to breakfast, Haldir is long gone, off to lead drills.

The distance between us hasn’t helped my internal predicament.

Too often, I catch myself following the line of his jaw, remembering the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, wanting to return to that excitement of just the two of us under the stars.

I don’t act on these thoughts, nor communicate them to anyone, though Lavandil certainly tries to break that resolve. She’s adamant that, even with my lifespan to consider, it is better to spend the time we have together in happiness rather than holding ourselves back from something that could be great.

I forcefully disagree.

I’d rather cause myself a little pain now than put Haldir in a position where he could be broken later.

Surprisingly, Rumil, once my tormentor, has become my closest ally. Any time someone attempts to bring up the subject of me and Haldir, Rumil promptly shuts it down, usually changing the subject to something outlandish enough to properly distract everyone. He kindly occupies my newfound free time and we go riding together at least once a week. Since Rumil has Roch, Haldir allows me to take Faervel out, and, where the horse used to be indifferent towards me at best, he now whinnies in greeting the second I set foot in the stables.

My life in Imladris is nice. It’s peaceful. It’s filled with wonderful friends and so much to discover. And I’m happy, there’s no doubt about that…even if something is missing. I caught my feelings early and took preventative action by distancing myself from Haldir, which is good…but it’s…unfulfilling, in a way, to stay far from him. I miss eating meals together and talking about our days before training sessions. I miss constantly having him around. I miss him teasing me and moments where it’s just us.

I miss him.

But I won’t lose my resolve.

If my sadness can save Haldir pain, then I will bear it.

{***}

Haldir

Summer in Imladris passes quickly. My days revolve around training the newer guard, and they show promising progress. Lothlórien’s borders are much more extensive than that of Imladris’, and I am confident adopting some of the techniques I use with my wardens at home to fit Elrond’s guard will help them be more prepared when the orcs attack again. My brothers have been indispensable, kindly offering their help and allowing me to use them as examples for the other soldiers. Orophin, of course, plans his schedule around Lavandil’s, but I have him with us about three days a week. Rumil joins nearly every day, only disappearing on Saturday mornings to take the horses out with Cosima.

Cosima.

My mind has been consumed by her for weeks.

If I am being honest, it’s been consumed with her long before then, probably up to the moment she arrived in this world. I now understand that my desire to keep her near me after the attack, and every moment after, was not only a preventative measure to make her feel better — it was my need to keep her close. To keep her safe. To have that reassurance that she is alright, and, if we were to be attacked again, I could defend her myself.

I really do owe Rumil an apology.

Turns out my brother knows me better than I know myself.

But despite the startling realization that I want to be with a human woman—not just any human woman, Cosima—the days continue.

Not of small concern is Cosima’s health which, mercifully, is improving. Her sessions with Elrond to attempt to regain her memories must be helping — though her memories have not returned, the scars on her fæ are nearly completely healed.

Aside from my monitoring of her health through Elrond and Baranor, my busy schedule prevents me from seeking her out. We continue to train together three times a week — she is making vast improvements — but our interactions are hesitant, a little awkward. I worry I overstepped my bounds that first night, or perhaps, even before that — maybe the night under the stars — for she certainly keeps her distance now. No longer do we eat together or talk in our free time. It’s a strange feeling, but it causes me stress not to see her during the day. Even a quick interaction would be enough, just to catch a glimpse of her smile or hear the approval of her laugh, but those are few and far between.

But, as much as it pains me, it is for the best.

I hate to think of it this way, but Cosima’s life is short and her future uncertain. Were she an elleth, there would be no issue — I could tell her of my feelings and she could return them and we could spend the rest of our never-ending lives together.

But Cosima is human. Even if she does choose to stay in Arda forever, her forever and mine are vastly different. If I give in, do as I so desperately want to and build a life with her…

She does not know it, but she has the power to break me.

And, while I still hold a sliver of the ability to keep that from happening, I must seize on it.

A/n Thanks for reading, and happy weekend! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day! See you Monday with a new chapter :)

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hogarthwrites · 4 years ago

Text

just friends

pairing: young samuel drake/reader (m/f)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

words: 3,155

summary:

Sam's your best friend, and you're hopelessly in love with him. It's cliche and it's stupid, but you can't help it. Is it really okay to be in love with your best friend even though you know it might ruin things between you two?

note:

Hi! This is a two-part story. The first part takes place in the past, in 1989, while the second part will take place in the present day.

tags: unrequited love, best friends

1989

You stared at your notebook covered in doodles as your history teacher, Mr. Phelps, talked on and on. A 90 minute class felt like three hours and you couldn't wait to just get out to see Sam.

Your vision kept blacking out as you tried to stay awake, something Mr. Phelps noticed right away.

“It was ironic that the British Empire condemned pirates when they pillaged and stole more than those buccaneers ever have, isn't that right?” The old man was looking directly at you and you blinked yourself awake and nodded.

“Yup, I agree,” you tried to act like you were interested.

“Welcome back,” he laughed.

You sighed and slumped further into your chair. 3 o’clock couldn't come any sooner.

As soon as class ended, Mr. Phelps asked to talk to you and you gulped as you picked your backpack up and walked to his desk where he was looking through papers.

“I'm worried about you,” he slid a paper across to you and y ou picked it up and frowned at the F in red taunting you.

“I'm gonna have to ask for a guardian or parent’s signature on this.”

“Really?” You sighed.

“I'm sorry, but it's just school policy,” Mr. Phelps shrugged. “Look, don't be afraid to ask questions, alright? I'm here to help.”

“Sure,” you pursed your lips and shoved your test paper into your bag.

Sam was lying on the grass in the park and reading a book when you found him, and you tilted your head to see what the book was. Treasure Island . Again.

“You know grass stains your jeans?” You nudged him with your Nike Cortez sneakers.

“Well look who the cat dragged in,” Sam gave you a lopsided grin as his brown eyes met yours.

You felt your cheeks burn and you quickly sat down next to him so you wouldn't have to face him. It was something you didn't want to admit, but you had a budding crush on Samuel Morgan, your cocky, way too ambitious best friend who was probably deranged.

“Fuck my life,” you groaned as you plopped down on the grass.

“I thought grass stains your jeans,” Sam tugged at your denim skirt.

“Fuck you,” you stuck your tongue out.

“Oof, cranky.”

“Sorry, it's just been such a shit day.”

“What happened?”

You pulled your test and put it on his chest. “That happened. Uncle Arthur’s going to skin me alive.”

Sam looked at the paper, and you almost thought he was going to laugh because he looked so amused, but instead he sat up.

“Let me help you,” he simply said.

“Help me?”

“Yeah! Like those tutor people.”

“What makes you the history expert?”

“My mom taught me, and pirates are kind of my thing. You know that,” this time it was Sam who nudged you with his worn out Chuck Taylors. “Come on, let me help you.”

“Fine, but can you do me a favour?” You propped yourself up on your elbows.

“Yeah, what is it?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Can you wait for me outside if Arthur decides to kick me out?”

It was a joke of course. Arthur wouldn't dare kick out his favourite -- and only -- niece. He did, however, lecture you about your priorities and banned TV for a month. As soon as you got to your room, you looked out your window and saw Sam smoking next to his red motorcycle.

You waved out a handkerchief to signify that things were good, and you could've sworn you heard Sam laugh before he drove away.

Sam’s apartment was actually a room he'd rented out in an older woman’s ( she’s just a friend , Sam had said) home near the city. It had a bed in the corner with an Indiana Jones poster above it and books piled on the wardrobe.

You sat on the floor, your back against the bed while you wrote the essay Mr. Phelps asked you to do while Sam read on his bed. Soft music played from somewhere outside and it was softly raining outside and all you wanted to do was lie down on the cool floor and take a nap.

“Done,” you announced as you finished your last sentence.

“Alright,” Sam plopped down in front of you, your knees touching. “Show me what you’ve done.”

Saying nothing, you held it out for him and buried your face between your knees.

“Hmm,” Sam grunted. “I mean, you’ve certainly memorised what you needed, but…”

“But?” You peeked up at him and saw that he was sucking in his cheek.

“But why was it important that pirates like Thomas Tew and Henry Avery pillaged the East India company?”

“For treasure?” You cocked your head to the side.

“Close, but you see, India’s economy dwarfed Europe’s at that time, and there weren’t any powerful navies in the Indian Ocean, which made a lot of the vessels there an easy target,” Sam explained, his hands flailing around as he talked. He did that a lot, and you thought it was kind of cute.

“Oh, alright,” you wrote what he was saying down on a piece of paper. “You make it a lot easier to understand than my stupid textbook.”

“Good to know,” Sam grinned. “If you get a good grade, I’ll take you out. My treat.”

Your face lit up. “Promise?”

“I promise. We’ll go anywhere… As long as I can afford it.”

“I’m holding you to that promise,” you stuck your tongue out.

It was quarter past nine when you were done rewriting your essay and Sam had fallen asleep. He was your ride home, but you figured if you walked fast enough you’d get home before 10 PM. You put your books away and looked at Sam who was gently snoring, his brown hair messy on his pillow.

He stirred when you covered him with a blanket, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t really make out.

“Good night, Sam,” you whispered as you turned off the light and stepped out.

Sam was waiting outside after school with a smug look on his face. You held up the paper as you approached him, doing a little victory dance before giving it to him.

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “I’m a wonderful tutor.”

“Oh please, you were asleep for most of it,” you jokingly punched him in the shoulder.

“I think the A on this piece of paper makes your point moot.”

“Fine,” you giggled as you took your paper back and stuffed it back into your bag. “Where are you taking me then?”

Sam hopped onto his motorcycle and patted the seat behind him. “I dunno, it’s your choice.”

“Hmm,” you tapped your chin. “I’ve always wanted to go on a picnic.”

“Really?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Alright. But what about food? It’s not a picnic without food.”

You ended up buying burgers and a small cake at a local diner and without a picnic blanket, you laid out a little lace handkerchief on the grass where Sam meticulously set the food. It looked a little ridiculous, but it was the best you both could have done with what little budget Sam had and at short notice too.

It was a cool evening and you happily ate your burgers while Sam blabbered on about Henry Avery. When he leaned back, his pinky touched yours and you froze, unsure if you wanted to move away or not. It was funny how just the tip of his finger touching yours made you feel hot and all you wanted to do was take his hand in yours.

Sam kept talking, but you wondered if he noticed that you probably just stopped breathing. You read plenty of romance books, hell, you even ready Forever by Judy Blume, but you never knew what it felt like to actually be in love. No, you shook away the thoughts. I can’t be in love with Sam… This is just infatuation. Nothing else.

You practically memorised him, the way he’d run his fingers through his unkempt hair, how he’d talk with his hands, how he’d bite his lip when he was upset. You saw him fall in and out of love with a variety of people, and you were always there for him. It was almost pathetic how much you knew about Sam Morgan, and you wondered if he memorised you the same way you did with him.

Something cold dripped on your cheek and you looked up as rain started pattering down.

“Oh shit,” you frantically picked the mostly eaten cake up while Sam picked up whatever was left of the burgers and the handkerchief and followed you to a gazebo nearby.

“Well, that ruined a perfectly good picnic,” Sam had his hands on his hips. “Is the cake alright?”

You looked down at the soggy cake. “It had better days.”

Sam laughed before he stuck his paper cup into the cake to get another slice.

“Really?” You looked up at him.

“What?” He shrugged between bites. “It’s still a cake. It’s not like the rain is dirty or anything.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“It’s fine,” Sam shrugged again. “Thanks for the picnic, by the way.”

“Nah, you paid for it.”

“But it was your idea. I haven’t been on a picnic since…”

Since his mom passed away. He suddenly looked forlorn.

“I know, Sam,” you reached out and touched his arm.

“Do you mind if I steal this picnic idea? Nathan might like this too,” he forced himself to smile.

“Not at all. Tell him I say hi, alright?”

“Sure thing.”

The rain lasted long enough for Sam to mostly finish what was left of the cake and once the sky cleared up, he drove you home.

“Thanks for helping me, by the way,” you smiled as you stood by his motorcycle. You could hear the sound of a TV blaring inside and you knew Arthur was probably waiting up.

“That’s just what friends do, right?” Sam grinned. Right. We’re just friends . “I’ll see you on Monday?”

You nodded and watched him drive away. Arthur was fast asleep on the sofa while an old western played. You were always grateful he took you in when your mother ran off to Europe and your dad felt you were too much responsibility, but it made you sad Sam and Nathan didn’t have the same privilege.

You turned the TV off and placed your somewhat damp essay on the coffee table before going to your room.

I don’t love him . It was a lie you constantly told yourself. Believing it was getting harder every time you were with Sam and you could barely look him in the eyes without butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You tried to make yourself stop, but you just ended up thinking about him more.

Your grades improved, much to Arthur’s delight and you hoped you could keep it up until after graduation at least. You applied to some colleges, but you were nervous with your mediocre grades and lack of extracurricular activities.

“And I can’t escape / I’m a slave to love…” Sam sang as he tossed a baseball up and down. He didn’t seem like it, but he was a pretty good singer. You were on the floor again doing your homework while he sang along to the song that was playing outside.

“Is there a bar here or something?” You asked.

“Nah,” his brown eyes followed the baseball. “There’s this old man who plays music on his roof. The lady says it’s because he misses his wife or something.” He shrugged. “It’s not too bothersome. He has good taste.”

“I guess it’s better than Arthur’s loud westerns at home,” you muttered. “That’s sad though. He must have really loved his wife.”

“Yeah,” Sam simply shrugged.

“What? You don’t think you’ll be an old man yearning for his spouse someday?”

“I don’t even think I’ll fall in love, to be honest,” he ran his fingers through his hair.

You laughed. God, I hope you’re wrong .

“What about you?” He nudged you with a socked foot.

“Gross, get your nasty socks away from me!” You shrieked, which made him push his foot against your back more. “Sam, stop, I swear you’re disgusting.”

“Come on,” he teased. “I bet you have a little crush. Was it Vicky? Whatever her name was? The one with the…” He gestured at his chest.

“No!” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “Don’t be rude. Vix is just a good friend, and she’s dating some guy anyway.”

Sam gave you a smug grin. “Alright. Keep your secrets.”

It was quiet again while you went back to your homework, your heart pounding from the interaction. What a bastard, you thought. If he knew… If he knew I had a crush on him, this would all be over. You didn’t want to think about what it would be like without Sam.

“I got this fancy letter for you from the University of Texas at San Antonio,” Arthur strolled into your room and handed you a letter. “You really wanna move that far away from your ol’ Uncle Arthur?”

“It’s a good university,” you stuck your tongue out as you tore open the envelope. “Please, please, please,” you whispered.

You barely read past the “Congratulations!” when you squealed and jumped out of bed. “I made it!”

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Arthur embraced you. He looked at the letter then frowned. “Biology?”

“Yeah, I think I kinda wanna be a doctor someday,” you bit your nail.

“And someday you will be,” he ruffled your hair. “Promise you’ll phone as much as you can, alright?”

“I’m still here, Uncle Arthur.”

“You’ve just grown up so fast,” he sighed. “What am I gonna do when you’ve gone off to be a doctor?”

“You could get a dog?”

“Huh,” he grunted. “Maybe.”

A week later, he came home with a puppy named John.

As graduation loomed closer, you felt excited, but you were left with a melancholy feeling of having to leave Sam behind. He was his usual, oblivious self, but you wanted to do it. You wanted to tell him before you left.

It was getting warmer again, so it was different to see Sam without a jacket on as he squatted on the pier, skipping rocks in the river. It seemed like there was something on his mind and he didn’t even notice you coming up to squat next to him. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a rock skipping far.

“Nice,” you said and he looked at you in surprise.

“Oh, hey,” he gave a weak grin. “Didn’t know you were here already.”

“Yeah, you seem busy.”

“Nah, just got a new job out of state.”

“You're leaving?” You felt your heart drop.

“In the fall, yeah, but not for long I hope.”

Sam fell silent, and you felt your heart beat quickly in your chest. Was this the right time? You were graduating in a few weeks, then you were off to San Antonio, unsure when you were ever going to see Sam again.

“Sam,” your voice was weak and he hummed in response. “I–I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah? What's that?” He looked worried when he turned to you.

“I could tell you anything, right? Promise you won't laugh?” Your cheeks flushed and you felt like your heart was gonna leap out of your chest. What am I doing?

“I won't laugh.”

At three, you took a deep breath. One... two…

“Sam, I like you,” you blurted out. “No, I think I'm in love with you.”

His expression softened at your words.

“I'm sorry, I tried my best not to let it get to me, but we're parting soon and I just thought–”

“I've always known,” Sam interrupted.

“What?”

“That you have a crush on me.”

“Oh.”

“I didn't wanna say anything because this is the best friendship I've ever had, and I don't wanna ruin what we have. We're great like this.”

Oh .

Best friendship.

The butterflies in your stomach turned into moths and you wanted to vomit. A lump in your throat grew and you held your breath. The last thing you wanted to do was to cry in front of Sam.

“I'm sorry,” you looked down at your feet.

“Hey,” he lightly nudged you. “We'll always be close. I'll write to wherever you are in the world. I promise.”

“Alright,” you nodded weakly. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Bring it in,” he held out his arms and you leaned into his embrace, trying not to sob into his shoulder.

You spent the night crying while you packed your bags, deciding not to bring anything that reminded you of Sam to college with you. You had to get over him.

Your chest felt heavy as you felt your heart break with every stupid lovesong that came on the radio. Why did you even bother confessing, of course Sam wouldn't be into you. Why would you even want to ruin your friendship like that?

The day you had to leave for the airport, Sam was at your window early in the morning.

“Mornin’, college student,” he smiled as he climbed into your room.

“I thought you were going to see me off at the airport,” you yawned.

“Just thought we could spend a bit more time together,” he looked around your now empty room. “Wow. You're really leaving.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “San Antonio, here I come.”

Sam didn't react, instead he turned back to look at you, his brown eyes scanning your face. “Hey listen, uh, a few weeks ago… I'm sorry about that.”

“Oh,” you sat on your bed. “No, it's fine. You're right, we're great friends.”

“I didn't mean to break your heart or anything.”

“I completely understand, Sam.”

He reached into his pocket and asked for your hand. There he placed a little medallion with a star engraved on it. It looked more like a little coin with a chain pierced through it.

“Here, it's a late graduation gift. I couldn't get out of work to buy it early enough, but I made it just in time last night.”

“Sam, this is beautiful,” you gasped. You made your way to the vanity and put the necklace on.

“It's just so you won't forget me, the most amazing friend you could ever ask for,” he looked smug.

“And it was such a sweet moment too,” you shook your head. “Thanks, Sam. I don't think I can ever forget you.”

You hugged him, feeling his arms around you tightly. At the moment, you felt your heart break, suddenly missing someone who was right in front of you. Your tears flowed, and you buried your face into his shirt as he soothed you.

“Promise we'll see each other next summer?”

“Promise.”

“Promise you'll write and call?”

“I promise.”

But Samuel Morgan was gone by the next summer.

#sam drake x reader #sam drake #young sam drake #fluff #ig

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mercuryonparklane · 4 years ago

Text

I seriously debated keeping this one in the drafts...

Okay, I felt compelled to analyze the timeline of all of Taylor’s rumored/alleged boyfriends (barring any that she supposedly dated pre-fame) and why I believe they could have been fake/pr setups...

Disclaimer: this is all speculative and is just my opinion. No one has to agree... we don’t all have to agree because really the only people who know the truth are Taylor and those she has shared it with. I do have a very skeptical view of the entertainment industry and pr, so that is a bias I will own up to. I especially think Taylor, for a very long time, was willing to play along with the pr side of things, but eventually reached a breaking point (as any normal human under that amount of pressure and scrutiny likely would). Whether that means she has faked all of her public relationships or some of them or just aspects of them... I can’t really, truly know that. So, just keep in mind that this is one little, insignificant person’s view of Taylor’s public relationships and that I do not personally know any of the people involved...

Don’t take this too seriously, peeps... I’ll even tag it as crack theory...

Joe J.: June/July-September/October 2008

If nothing else this feels like a typical pr setup of two young stars. He had Camp Rock, a Jonas Bros’ album and a tour and concert film to promote. Camp Rock came out on 6/20/2008. The Jonas Bros’ third album, A Little Bit Longer, was released on 8/12/2008. In August, Taylor joined the band on stage during the filming for a concert movie that would be released in February 2009.

Taylor had an album that was released just weeks after their alleged breakup. An album which contained a few songs that would be attributed to Joe J. due to the publicity surrounding their relationship. Hmm... what a great way to drum up interest in an album that includes quite a few heartbreak songs. Not saying I know that is the case, but they both had a lot to promote between June and November 2008.

Lucas T.: March-April/May 2009

He was in the Hannah Montana movie, which was released 4/10/2009. Taylor had a cameo in that movie and also wrote a song for the soundtrack. Lucas also played Taylor’s love interest in the mv for YBWM, which premiered 5/2/2009 on CMT. He was in one of her Myspace vlogs in April 2009. IMO, this was a setup to promote the Hannah Montana movie and the YBWM mv, but it didn’t really take off. Lucas later said they dated briefly, but he realized that he just saw her as a friend...

Taylor L.: August-December 2009

They played a couple in Valentine’s Day. In September, just days after the VMAs where KW interrupted Taylor on stage as Taylor L. stood a few feet away, Taylor went to an Owl City concert at the Bowery Ballroom where she met the man who would supposedly inspire “Enchanted”. Umm... “please don’t be in love with someone else”... even though I am currently dating Taylor L. and he is my forever crush, but like, I am totally crushing on you actually. I have no clue if any Swifties have ever picked up on that discrepancy.

Oh, and Taylor L. also “dated” Selena in early 2009 and I doubt Taylor would go there, even if they ended on good terms. I mean, it’s possible, but idk it seems unlikely to me.

John M.: December 2009-February 2010

I think Taylor admired him as a musician (this seems to have been mutual with John praising her talent multiple times) and she may have seen him as a mentor at first. I do not believe that anything happened between them beyond that. I think he was so thrown off by “Dear John” because of that. He was already tweeting in the spring of 2009, hinting at wanting to collaborate with Taylor. The album their duet was on came out in November 2009, right before they started “dating”. Although it wasn’t released as a single until June 2010.

Besides, Liz (friend or otherwise) has remained a fan of John and even went to his concert a few years back. So, either she didn’t care that he screwed one of her supposed good friends over or it didn’t go down how people were led to believe it did.

Jake G.: October 2010-December/January 2011

Unless this relationship started much earlier than everyone has been led to believe, it is very unlikely that ATW is about him. It certainly seems to have been written prior to the maple latte/scarf/sister’s house articles that were abundant after that pap walk. Either Taylor used him as a scapegoat for a song that wasn’t about him or he was a willing participant in a pr scheme to make sure people thought the song was about him.

He couldn’t have been setup with his costar, Anne H., because she was already in a long term, committed relationship. At the time Taylor was still good pr since she was still known as a kind of girl next door, all American type with genuine talent.

I’m not saying I know for a fact it was fake. I’m saying there are plenty of reasons why I think it was. Everyone has different perspectives... mine is that this was purely a pr setup.

Will A.: sometime in 2010 and/or mid or fall 2011-January 2012 or May (?) 2012

They were likely just friends, but people did think they were dating back then. The songs that people think he wrote about Taylor (”White Dress” and “Kiss Me Slowly”) were recorded in 2010. So, if she started dating him in September 2011, which people think because the dress she wore to his May 2012 birthday party was the one she is wearing on the “Begin Again” cover art, then those songs aren’t about her. About the party dress... Sarah B., who took the picture, was also friends with the Parchute guys, so maybe the photoshoot that the picture on that cover art came from happened earlier that day.

He was friends with Liz’s ex Jason and one of his best friends is still to this day very close friends with Liz, so that’s probably how he met Taylor. I think Taylor hung out with that crew a bit back then. AND those times Will and Taylor were seen hanging out in late fall/early winter 2011, Jason and/or the other friend were there. Yes, I am saying that Taylor was hanging out with Jason in November/December 2011, just a few months after he and Liz supposedly broke up. She was also still hanging out with Liz a lot at that time and after, though, so I think it was all good.

Conor K.: July 2012-September/October 2012

This was Taylor’s worst pr. If it was a real relationship... it is borderline predatory. If it is fake... still a big yikes... I don’t have much to say about this one. I think it was fake and an attempt at making him the muse for “Starlight” (how cute, this song she wrote about his grandparents sort of became about them), “Begin Again” (nevermind that the copyright record say the song was written in 2011), and EHC (nevermind that the song was written in May 2012). It would have been great pr, though, if he was a couple years older. Taylor should have fired Paula after this one... (because the public should have never known about it, real or fake).

Harry S.: November 2012-January 2013

Similar to all the others before (and after), there were “random” sightings, including a birthday trip to “the lakes” and blatant pr (go on and wear that fox sweater and paper airplane necklace, Taylor...). That NYE kiss, though...

Calvin: February 2015-May/June 2016

Taylor finally dropped her old publicist and brought on Tree. First step, was to erase the “boy crazy”/“man eater” label (and possibly the “professional beard” label) and become an independent woman who just wants to have fun with her gal pals. It got a bit gayer than expected (whether Kaylor was really a thing to some degree or not is irrelevant to the point). The gay rumors were actually catching on even faster and people were like “oh, that’s why she couldn’t keep a man” (sexist/homophobic as all of this is/was, ofc).

Enter Calvin... a playboy DJ who some might deem “tall and handsome as hell” (peeps, I am not really the best judge of a man’s attractiveness, so this is just how I think people see him). He seems sooo straight. I don’t know how else to say it. All of her other supposed boyfriends had gay rumors, whether or not those rumors were just people gossiping or had some basis in reality... I think he is the only one that doesn’t have them, that I know of anyway.

I know a lot of people think they were really together, but I think this was an attempt to have her in a more serious, long term relationship to counteract both the gay rumors (not necessarily as a cover for a woman because I don’t think all of the guys have been or need to have been covers for a secret relationship with a woman, it’s about appearing straight) and the “can’t keep a man” narrative that had followed her around. Even if they were in some sort of situationship (not what I think, just theorizing here), it wouldn’t have been a steady thing and they seemed to not like each other very much when all was said and done.

I still laugh that he said Taylor was the opposite of his type (and specified that he likes brunettes) in November 2014 and then he allegedly dated her for almost a year and a half, starting literally a few months after he made that comment. If that was a real relationship, he was either playing it cool when he said that or he misjudged her or Taylor was determined to date him because it was a challenge.

Either way, it seems like her team controlled the public narrative and maybe Calvin was okay with that at first, but over time it seemed like he wasn’t a big fan of that. Maybe that visit to the strip mall massage parlor was a bit of a rebellion...

At least they both got some royalties out of it...

Joe A.: September 2016-Present

Taylor’s team absolutely has control of the public narrative and he seems okay with that. He is a literal mirrorball. He is whatever Taylor supposedly says he is in her songs/whatever Swifties want him to be.

He likes to drop fun facts like how his family jumps into a freezing pond at Christmas or that he worked at a yogurt shop as a teenager. Whether they are real or not... he seems to be playing into the pr. Dropping little bits of information that will tie him to her songs... it is very “maple latte”/“paper airplane necklace”/dark jeans and Nikes... OR Taylor is just taking the few facts people know about him and using it to pin songs on him.

If he is a beard (which imo he likely is), I think he gets along with Taylor and doesn’t mind the minimal pr of it all.

I don’t think he is WB, either way...

Again this is just my view of things. This has no bearing on which women Taylor may have dated. I could do a separate post on what I think that timeline might look like.

One point I will reiterate is that I do not think that a beard would always be a cover for a secret relationship with a woman. I think it sometimes is, but it can be more of a general cover for someone who is gay. So many people think Taylor is the straightest person who has ever lived simply because of her public dating record. I mean, heteronormativity and homophobia also play a big part in that...

Edit: I completely skipped Tom lol. I just don’t buy that one either. Maybe he thought it would be good publicity or maybe he was led on to think it was more real than it was or maybe he was just having fun. Idk. All kinds of articles written about them at the time included some caveat about how they seemed fake or were maybe filming something...

#gaylor crack theory

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