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middleearthpixie · 2 years

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Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Eleven

Summary: Speech therapist Josephine Asharm has been brought into Erebor to work with Bifur, but trying to find her place among people who eye her suspiciously would be difficult enough under normal circumstances, but when Sophie finds herself caught between the king, his most trusted lieutenant, and the dwarf she’s there to help? She’s certain no good can come of it. Being of Man, not only does she stand out in the dwarf kingdom, she’s not entirely certain she’s actually welcome there at all.

Thorin only agreed to allow Sophie to live amongst them out of a sense of duty to Bifur, who is recovering from an odd head injury (is there any other way to describe having an axe blade lodged in one’s head, only to have it later dislodged during the Battle of the Five Armies?) Before the battle, he spoke only khuzdul. But since it? He’s regained the ability to speak Westron—if only he could but remember any of it. As for Thorin? He’s trying his damndest to ignore the speech therapist, not to mention his own growing feelings for her, even as he is also recovering from his near fatal wounding in the same battle.

Both Sophie and Thorin are haunted by their pasts and are uncertain of their futures, but sometimes, chances must be taken…

A/N: I want to apologize for the slow updates, I haven’t been in a great headspace to write, and with the semester starting this week, my free time is going to be at a premium, so updates may be even slower. Thanks so much for your patience…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm

Characters:Sophie, Thorin, Heather, Fíli, Dís

Warnings: Sex that doesn’t go quite the way it’s supposed to…

Rating: M

Word Count: 6k

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Thorin heard the silvery laughter before he even stepped into the Great Hall and it made him smile as he paused on the threshold. Balin, who had been walking alongside him, was partway into the Great Hall when he realized Thorin had stopped moving, and came back to say, “What’s wrong? Why did you stop?”

Thorin nodded in Sophie’s direction. “Her laugh is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Balin rolled his eyes, even as he chuckled and said, “If I didn't hear it with my own ears, I’d never believe it.”

“Hear what?”

“The mighty King Under the Mountain marveling at his love’s laugh.”

“My love?”

“Thorin,” Balin offered up a long look, “you should only see yourself at the moment. You look almost dazed, as if someone hit you in the face. I have to admit, I’ve never seen you this way and I don’t know what that lassie has done to you, but you are smitten.”

“Smitten? Nonsense. It’s simply that I’m—”

“Smitten,” Balin finished.

“Happy,” Thorin told him, tearing his eyes from Sophie, seated at the far end of the room with Narnerra and Gimli, Heather tucked between her mother and the healer, eyes wide as they flicked from left to right.

“Same difference. And know this, I think it wonderful. The king should find his queen so his sister will leave him be.”

Thorin snorted without thinking. “Have you met my sister? I could marry tomorrow and Dís’ next quest would be to pester me about having children.”

“There are worse things she could do.”

“I know,” Thorin nodded, then gestured for Balin to continue moving, “and none of them are any of her concern. She just doesn’t wish to think about Kíli and his wedding.”

“It’s only a few weeks out. I highly doubt he and the she-elf are going to break it off between now and then.”

They resumed their stride and as they both stepped int the Great Hall, Sophie looked over and her gaze landing on him was like an actual touch. Heat shot through him, growing hotter at the shy smile and faint blush that swept along her cheekbones. Her gaze lowered and he almost groaned, and then did groan as Balin snorted alongside him. “Smitten.”

“Quiet.”

“Go and sit with her.” Balin let out a soft chuckle as Heather slid down from her chair and bolted toward them. “I daresay you’ve been spotted.”

“It looks that way.”

“Mister Thorin!”

Heads swiveled in their direction as Heather launched herself at him and he caught her easily, scooping her up to promptly toss her into the air. “Mimûna, one of these days, you will take me from my feet.”

Her shriek of laughter echoed throughout the Great Hall and when he caught her, she threw her arms about his neck. “That was fun!”

“I imagine it was.” He caught a long tangled curl with his forefinger to draw it away from her face. “What did you do today?”

“Gimli and I explored again.”

“Not near the forges, I hope?”

She shook her head, her expression solemn. “No, sir. We did not go near them. Are you going to sit with us?”

“I might, if there’s room.”

She smiled. “There’s always room for you, Mister Thorin.”

“That’s nice to hear, Miss Heather.”

“And I know Mama would like it if you sat with us.”

Balin chuckled. “I’m sure she would, Miss Heather.”

Her blue eyes sparkled as she looked over at him. “You can sit with us, too, Mister Balin.”

“Another night, my lady,” he told her with a smile. “Tonight, Mrs. Fundinson and I are celebrating.”

“Celebrating?” Heather’s forehead furrowed.

“We’ve been married a very long time. And don’t ask how long, because I am sure to get it wrong and then she will be angry with me.”

“We don’t want that.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow it is, love. Now you be good for your mama.”

“I will, Mister Balin.”

“I know you will.” Balin looked up to meet Thorin’s grin. “Enjoy yourself, Thorin.”

“And you as well.”

Balin walked off to where his wife sat and Thorin skirted several tables to where Sophie and Narnerra sat. Both women looked up at the same time and Sophie said, “Good evening, Your Majesty.”

It took every ounce of will he possessed to keep from bending over and kissing her right then and there. Although, why he should keep himself from doing so was a mystery to him. He cared not if everyone knew about them. Why shouldn’t they? There didn't seem to be a soul in all of Erebor who disliked either Sophie or Heather. And somehow, it seemed to be the general consensus that he should start to think about a future with someone, so it stood to reason they would all be happy for him.

So, why didn’t he just kiss her?

“Mister Thorin?”

He started, having forgotten for a moment he still had Heather in his arms. “I beg your pardon, Miss Heather,” he said with a grin. “I was but woolgathering.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “What?”

“Woolgathering. Lost in thought.”

“About what?”

“Never you mind. Let’s get you settled, shall we?” He bent slightly to set her on her feet, and as he did, Sophie said, “Heather, what did I tell you about throwing yourself at King Thorin?”

“I don't mind,” he said, moving closer to her chair. “Unless you mind, that is.”

“I don't wish her to make a pest of herself.”

“She is no such thing. If it came to that, I would tell her myself. Although, I would be nice about it, of course.” He met her gaze and then, giving into that impulse that wouldn’t leave him be, he bent toward her.

It seemed as if the room went absolutely silent the moment his lips touched hers and although he felt her start, she recovered in the blink of an eye, her lips moving against his as someone called, “Awww!” from somewhere behind them.

With a soft laugh, Sophie broke away, her cheeks red, but her eyes sparkling. “Your Majesty…”

“What? Did I do something I shouldn’t have?”

“Well… no,” she hedged, the blush in her cheeks deepening. “But people will know.”

“We said nothing about keeping us secret, Sophie. Was I supposed to?”

“I thought you might wish to.”

“Why?”

“Well… I… I—I don't know, really.”

He moved around behind her chair and bent to press a kiss into the top of her head this time. “I have no desire to keep us a secret, mesmel.”

“Then, I suppose it’s all right.”

He chuckled. “Good to know, now. And you’re blushing.”

“I know!” Her hands came to her cheeks as a silvery laughter bubbled to her lips. “It’s just that… well… it’s nice.”

“Nice?” He sank into the chair on her left, mindful of the eyes all on them. “I’m not so certain I like that.”

“No, it’s a good thing. It’s simply I am not accustomed to nice.”

A hint of sadness darkened her eyes to pewter for a moment, but then they swirled silver once more. Without thinking, Thorin caught her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “You will become accustomed to it in time, Sophie. I will make certain you do.”

To his surprise, her eyes shimmered briefly and she visibly swallowed before saying, “Your Majesty, I—”

“Thorin.” He winked. “A roomful of people saw me kiss you. I think formality is no longer necessary.”

For a moment, he thought he’d said the wrong thing, as she pressed her lips together. But then, her fingers tightened about his and she gave a sharp nod. “It does sound silly, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but only a little.” He bobbed his head and draped his arm along the back of her chair, smiling when his fingertips brushed her shoulder to send heat streaking through him. “So, I think going forward I should be Thorin to you.”

Her eyes danced with a hint of mischief. “But Your Majesty suits you.”

“It does, I agree,” he said, unable to keep the soft laugh from his voice, “but I was Thorin long before I was Your Majesty and in all honesty, I prefer it.”

“Very well. But, I should warn you, I might take me a while to remember.”

“That’s all right. I’m patient.”

“Mister Thorin!” Heather broke in and he looked up to see her staring at him with wide eyes. “Why are you kissing Mama?”

“Because I like her,” he replied with a smile. “Does that trouble you, mimûna?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her face somewhat scrunched as if she was deep in thought. Then, she looked over at Sophie, whose back stiffened as if she was preparing for Heather’s objections. “Do you like him, too, Mama?”

Thorin found himself holding his breath as Sophie’s silver eyes slide in his direction and it seemed she, too, was deep in thought. Then, she nodded. “I do, love, yes.”

Glancing over Heather’s head, he caught sight of Dís taking in the entire exchange, her own smile barely contained and her blue eyes dancing with the mischief that told him she would definitely be asking him about this latest turn of events at some point in the near future.

He brought his attention back to Heather, who stared up at him and said, “I suppose it would be all right… I think…”

Thorin smiled down at her. “Good. I was worried there for a moment.”

Heather’s expression grew serious once more. “Just be nice to her, Mister Thorin.”

He rose from his chair and moved around to crouch alongside hers. “Miss Heather, I give you my word, I will treat your ’amad like a queen.”

“You better.”

He nodded, as solemn as she was. “I swear upon my life.”

After supper, Sophie rose from her chair and smiled down at Heather. “We should get back to our apartments, love. You still need a bath.”

Heather pouted. “Do I have to?”

“Yes. You and Gimli were running about all day.”

“Fine.” Heather slid down from her chair. “Good night, Mister Thorin.”

Thorin smiled. “Good night, mimûna. Behave for your ’amad.”

Sophie glanced at Heather, to see if she understood what he’d said to her. Heather nodded, rubbing one eye with her fist as she said, “I will.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Heather bobbed her head and slipped her hand into Sophie’s, who smiled at Thorin over her shoulder. “Good night, Thorin.”

To her surprise, he winked. “Good night, Sophie.”

Sophie turned away then, and she and Heather made their way down to their apartments, where Heather said, “Do I have to have a bath, Mama?”

“Yes. I told you, you were running about with Gimli all day, although, I thought he was sick?”

“He was, but he felt better, so Miss Narnerra let him come explore with me. She said he hadn’t thrown up at all today and we promised not to run about too much.”

“Throw up…oh, I hope he didn’t.”

Heather shook her head. “No. He said he was tired, but not feeling bad any longer.”

“Good. But, the fact remains, you were running about and now you look a bit… grimy. Where did the two of you go?” Sophie unlocked the door to their apartments and pushed it open.

“We went to the floor below the forges. The Hall of Kings, Gimli said.” Heather’s brows pulled low. “Only, I didn't see any kings. But, it has a gold floor.”

They stepped inside and Sophie closed and promptly locked the door behind her. Although she had seen that golden floor for herself, she gave Heather an incredulous look. “A golden floor? Why do I think you’re making that up?”

Heather shook her head as she slipped out of her tiny boots. “I’m not, Mama. Promise, I’m not. I didn’t believe Gimli either, when he told me. But, it’s gold. And so shiny. It looks like I could splash about in it, but it’s solid.”

“That’s probably just as well. The last thing I want is you to drown in gold.”

“Why would the floor be gold?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. Perhaps you could ask Mister Thorin next time you launch yourself at him.”

Heather let out a soft laugh. “I like him, Mama. He’s fun.”

“Well, he likes you, too, but you need to remember—”

“He’s the king and busy.”

“Right.” Sophie bent to scoop her up. “Now, let’s get you into the tub before the hour grows much later.”

Their bathing chamber was small, but it was a step up from the one back in Esgaroth. A huge step up, actually, as Erebor had heated running water, and turning the brass tap was a far cry easier than lugging up buckets of water to be heated over the fire. Not only did that take far longer than Sophie liked, but there was always the danger of making the water too hot, or when she tried to cool it, making it too cold.

But Erebor was completely different and the water was just the right temperature as Heather sank into it and let Sophie wash her hair with soap that smelled of lavender and honey. By the time she was finished bathing her daughter, the water was only just getting cool and Heather was more than happy to be wrapped in a thick, fluffy towel, with another wrapped about her hair.

Sophie brought her to her bedchamber, let Heather pick out her nightrail, and then sat and combed out Heather’s thick hair, braided it, and secured the braid with a ribbon. By the time she finished, Heather’s eyelids were heavy and her thumb was in her mouth as she snuggled into the pillows.

“Sweet dreams, little bit,” Sophie murmured, pressing a kiss into her forehead before rising from the bed to smooth the quilts up to Heather’s chin.

“Good night, Mama…”

Sophie blew out the candle and slipped from her room, closing the door by as she stepped out into the hallway to make her way back to the great room. She loved this time of night, when everything was quiet and still, Heather was asleep and that meant Sophie could sit and read, or do whatever mending needed to be done, or just sit and enjoy the quiet.

She was just settling down with a book when there came a soft knock at the door. At first, she thought about just ignoring it. After all, she wasn't expecting anyone.

But then there came a second knock, bit louder than the first. She closed her book and set it on the table, then rose and moved to the door. “Who’s there?”

“Thorin.”

Her heart gave a flutter at his growling whisper and when she opened the door, that flutter grew worse as he smiled down at her. “I know you weren’t expecting me, but I hope you don’t mind my being here.”

“No, of course not.” She stepped back to give him room to pass. “Come in.”

He moved by her. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“No. I just put Heather to bed and was sitting down with a book. It’s nothing that can’t wait.” She closed the door, then leaned back against it. “What brings you down here?”

He faced her, offering up a somewhat shy smile, which surprised her, as he certainly didn't strike her as the shy sort at all. “I—I couldn't stop thinking about you and the more I thought about you, the more I wanted to see you, and so here I am.”

A hint of warmth spun through her at his low confession. “Is that so?”

“It is.” He met her gaze. “And I hope I’m not making a pest of myself, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been in this position and I’m not entirely certain what I’m supposed to do.”

She stepped closer to him and let her hand come to rest on his upper arm. Even through the rough, heavy weave of his henley, the solid bulge of muscle wrapped about that arm felt like stone beneath his sleeve. “You aren’t a pest at all. And to be honest, I don't know what I’m supposed to do, either.”

“So, we’re fumbling together, then.”

“I think so, yes.”

He said nothing at first, but just held her gaze, his blue eyes soft. Then, he reached for her, caught her face in his hands, leaned in, and his lips met hers—soft, warm, teasing as they slowly moved against hers. She reached for him, her fingers curling about his thick wrists, her toes curling in her house shoes as his lips parted and his tongue swept along hers. Her heart beat faster and her belly was alive with butterflies beating their frenzied wings to send her blood smoking through her veins.

His thick fingers stretched up, into her hair, tilting her head slightly, deepening his kiss, his tongue slow and teasing, caressing hers, setting those butterflies loose to send sparkling delight swirling through her. Her head spun with that delight, heat ribboning through her, pushing her closer to him, closer until their bodies met. His came firm against her, the muscle solid, as if made from the very stone of the mountain all around them. His thumbs swept against her cheeks, his breath a warm puff against her lips as he pulled back to whisper, “Mesmel…”

A smile tugged at her lips, her eyes fighting to close even as she gazed up at him. “I like how that sounds.”

His eyes softened and without a word, he swept her up into his arms and a moment later, they were in her chambers and he bent to set her in the middle of her narrow bed. He loomed over her, all broad shoulders and wide chest, his dark hair spilling all around them as if to block out any prying eyes. The lamp in the Great Room was the only source of light, and it was enough to glint off the silver runes woven into the long braids at either temple, to bounce off the silver ornament gathering his hair just above his nape.

She slid her arms about his waist, tugged gently to pull him flush against her, and while he was heavier than she’d anticipated, she still welcomed his solid bulk, holding tight when he tried to pull back.

“Don’t,” she whispered, smiling up at him. “You’re fine.”

“I’ve no wish to crush you.”

“You aren’t.”

A smile played at his lips. “Are you certain?”

“Quite.”

He bent to her, and this time, his kiss came not gentle and sweet but hot and demanding, and she returned it in kind, tugging his henley up above the waist of his trousers to slip her hands beneath it.

His skin was hot beneath her palms, the ridges of various scars marring the otherwise solid expanse. As her fingernails brushed his skin, he shivered against her, sighing softly into her mouth. He rocked his hips against hers, shivering once more as he pressed firmly into her. He wasn't the only one who shivered. The feel of him, the firm ridge of his erection sensually pressing into the soft ache between her thighs was enough to make her shiver right back.

Thorin broke his kiss, sweeping a feathery kiss over her chin, down along her neck, which she bowed as the heat within her grew thicker and stronger. He kissed down, along her neck, down toward the hollow at its base, and as he did, he shifted his weight to one arm and with his free hand, slid it beneath her tunic. He pushed it up as his hand skimmed along her sensitive skin and when it curved about her left breast and tightened, she couldn’t help her gasp. No man ever touched her so gently, almost as if he was afraid of hurting her. He kneaded that breast so tenderly, brushed his thumb teasingly over the hard bead of her nipple, slid his hand free to shove her shirt higher and as he bared that breast and bent to capture her nipple with his lips, she bowed her back just as she had her neck. Fire swept through her at the soft swirl of his tongue about her aching nipple, at the way such a light stroke could melt her from the inside out and sent heat pooling between her thighs.

She forced her eyes to open, drinking in the sight of her powerful dwarf above her, the way the light danced along his dark hair, the way it swept along the silver streaks woven like strands of mithril through those dark curls. The air, warm from the fire crackling on the hearth, skimmed along her flesh as he bared it, as he pulled away to whisk her tunic over her head and let it fall in a heap alongside her head.

His eyes glittered in the low light as he drew back to let his gaze wander over her, a soft smile playing at his lips as he murmured, “Mahal, you are stunning, Sophie…”

He said it with no little awe, as if he’d never seen anything like her, and that awe in his deep voice sent an unexpected shyness swirling through her. “Thorin…”

He bent, pressing a soft kiss into her belly, above her navel, and without thinking, she reached to thread her fingers through his hair, which was every bit as soft as it look, and smiled when he sighed at the caress. Another hot kiss swept against her skin, up along her ribs, across her sternum, to capture her other nipple this time.

Her hips rose, rocked to meet him again. Her need for him swelled sharply, her body aching for him in a way it never had before. As they met, he lifted his head, gazing up at her with eyes smoldering sapphire with desire. “Sophie… mesmel… if you wish me to stop, you need say so now.”

“Wish you to stop? Why would you say that? I certainly want you to,” she replied, reaching up to catch a long nearly-black curl and drew it away from his face. “Unless you don’t want to—”

He bent to cut her off with a teasing kiss, then drew back to whisper, “I do, love. You should only know how much I do…”

“Trust me,” she whispered back, curving her hand against that very prominent bulge in his trousers, “I absolutely know how much…”

A soft laugh bubbled to his lips. “You are so very beautiful, Sophie… I cannot help my reaction to you.”

The heat his words sent sweeping through her brought back that hint of shyness, the one she hadn’t felt since she was much younger and in the grips of her very first crush. Still, she smiled. “You don't have to say that, you know.”

“I know, but I speak the truth. I’ve thought so since the night we met, when you were chasing Heather down the corridor.”

“Did I apologize for her running into you that way?”

“There is no need,” he told her, shaking his head. “I’m very fond of her, just as I am her mother.”

“So, why did you stop kissing me then?”

His eyes danced in the low light, a hint of mischief sparkling in those blue irises and bent to her once more. His lips met hers, and it was the spark to the kindling. Sophie wrapped her arms about his waist, let her fingers curl into the heavy fabric of his henley to tug it up and when it slid up far enough, he pulled away to let her tug it over his head, then shifted his weight from one arm to the other as she pulled it free.

She couldn't help but stare up at him. The soft gold light from that lone lamp was just enough to highlight the swells of solid muscle across his broad shoulders, wrapped along his thick arms. Dark hair curled away from his skin across his wide chest and down over his belly, where it disappeared beneath the waist of his trousers. Heavy black lines inked an intricate pattern from the middle of his chest toward his right shoulder, where that pattern continued down his arm, stopping just above his wrist.

He smiled, whispering, “I pass muster, I hope?”

“Oh, you definitely pass muster,” she murmured back, gazing up at him. His dark hair spilled over his shoulders, the braids swaying gently as he held himself above her, the silver cubes at their ends throwing off soft flecks of light.

“Good.” He bent to her, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss that stole the breath from her lungs. She let her hands wander up along his arms, over the bulges of rocklike muscle, along his shoulders, slid a hand into his hair where her fingers twisted in the soft waves and held on. The fire returned, slow and steady at first, but as he rocked against her, as he settled between her thighs, it burned with a greater intensity. He arched against her, softly at first, but with each successive pass, he pressed harder into her, searching out his rhythm to offer them both at least a modicum of relief.

Heat wafted from his skin, sank into hers, the ribbons twisting and spiraling through her as he slid a hand along her waist, to the button on her trousers. It gave, the fabric slid away, and his slightly rough palm grazed skin that hadn’t been touched in what felt like a lifetime. She shivered beneath his touch, biting down on her bottom lip as he hooked a thumb in the waist of her trousers to push them down.

He rocked back onto his knees, smiling as he caught the cuffs of her trousers to tug, whisking them from her and as he did, and his gaze fell upon her, his eyes darkened to almost cobalt, his whispered, “Mahal…” almost inaudible.

No man ever gazed at her the way he did right then, his eyes widening ever so slightly as they practically caressed her. Then, his gaze flicked to hers and he smiled, murmuring, “Abnâmul…”

Beautiful. And she felt beautiful, beneath that smoky blue-eyed stare of his, beneath the gentle caresses of his huge hands, of his soft lips. She shivered as he bent over and pressed a teasing kiss just above her navel. He feathered kisses over her belly, swept up between her breasts, and met her lips once more. This time, when he came flat against her, he settled between her thighs and arched against her.

Sophie dragged her fingernails lightly along his back, over the raised edges of scars she’d never seen, along the smooth unmarred skin of his lower back, down beneath the waist of his trousers and when she grazed the firm moons of his backside, he actually shivered against her and sucked in a hard breath at the same time.

His lips found hers, hot and hungry, his tongue plunging between her lips to tangle with hers with a ferocity that had her melting against him. She curved her hands against those firm mounds, pulled him harder against her, and it was her turn to sigh as he gave her just a hint of relief from the tension winding its way through her.

She fumbled with the fastenings on his trousers, but then they gave and when she eased a hand beneath them and found him, he shuddered from the force of his sharp inhale. His low moan rumbled through her as she let her fingertips sweep ever so gently along his heated length, as she curled her fingers about him to caress him slowly from base to tip.

“Mahal…” His voice was husky and low, almost a growl, and disbelief wove through those two syllables, his voice hitching as she stroked him again. “Sophie… mesmel…”

She gazed up at him. His eyes were closed, his lips softly slack, and his expression serious as he rocked to meet her touch. Her thumb slid over his tip, catching the fluid of his arousal to offer up a silken glide on her next pass.

He went still against her. Well, mostly still, as he thrust into her grasp, drew back, and thrust again, whispering, “Mahal—this is—that is, you are—oh, we should…”

She smiled at the faraway tone of his voice and let him slip from her grasp as she murmured, “We definitely should,” and caught the waist of his trousers to push down over his hips.

He rocked back and rose from the bed, then bent to remove his boots and hose, which he left in a haphazard heap alongside the bed. And when he stood, he shoved his trousers to his ankles, then stepped out of them and, for a moment, Sophie forgot how to breathe. She had never seen a man cut as fine a figure as the naked dwarf before her.

He was utterly gorgeous—thick bands of muscle layered his shoulders, wrapped his arms, his thick thighs, his equally thick calves. He was like the mountain itself, solid and compact and when she met his blazing cobalt stare, a wave of heat more powerful than anything she’d ever felt before washed over her.

This time, when he bent over her, he loomed larger still, blocking out the low light as he found her lips and covered her gently, pressing her down into the soft featherbed. He stretched out alongside her, his hand coming to rest on her hip. It didn't remain there for long, though, sweeping lightly down the length of her thigh as his tongue swept along hers. She melted against him, the crisp hair curling away from his hot skin tickled hers, teased her nipples into tight beads once more.

His fingers were light and gentle against her, roaming the length of her thigh. Down along her calf. Up along the back of her knee. They swept over the front of her thigh and then he hesitated, his hand going still just inches away from her melting core.

She shifted, angling her hips to offer up a bit of room for him to ease that large hand between them. He hesitated again, then tentatively brushed along her inner thigh. He grazed upward, and when the backs of his fingers brushed the damp curls at the apex of her thighs, her fingers twisted into his hair and her hips arched to meet his touch.

He crept higher, moving slowly, as if he expected her to halt him, to grab his wrist and yank his hand from her.

A laugh, that. The ache within her was impossible to ignore now and when he brushed those curls again, she couldn’t hold back her sigh, just as she couldn't hold back her shiver when his fingers slid into her heat. To her surprise, he sucked in a sharp breath along with her as he gently slid a finger inside her.

The heat within her spilled over at that soft caress and she tightened about him. Twisted her fingers harder in his hair, her eyes closing, her body humming as he stroked her, as he teased her, as he brought her so close to the edge that she could almost taste the sweetness of relief.

Little by little, her body tensed, hot darts of absolutely bliss poking through her with each pulse, with each swirl of his finger and she met his rhythm, moved with him, the sharp tingles of her climax riding on the tails of those darts.

She reached for him, wrapped her hand about that hot, proud part of him and met him once more, each stroke slow and silken, making him moan softly into her mouth as he arched hard into her hand.

He broke his fiery kiss, whispering, “Mesmel… that feels so very good…”

“Oh, does it…” She smiled up at him, pressing a hand into the middle of his chest to push him onto his back.

He obliged, his eyes going wide as she moved astride him. “Sophie?”

“What?”

She shifted slightly, and when she guided him into her, nothing could have prepared her for his low, rumbling moan, his sudden, sharp thrust, or his growled, “Mahal… yes…”

Sophie sat back, savoring the fullness of him inside her, the sweet pleasure that went along with that. His hands tightened on her thighs, his breath came in quick bursts, and when she gave just a slight roll of her hips, he shuddered beneath her.

She moved slowly, lifted away and came back gently against him, rocked forward and back, as the sensations rolled through her, hot and tingling. He watched her intently, his eyes glittering in the low light, the lids sliding shut, only to have him snap them open once more.

“Sophie…” Her name rolled slowly off his tongue, as if he had trouble saying it, his voice thick and husky.

She found her rhythm, but as she did, he groaned low in his throat and tensed, his fingers biting into her thighs now as he arched hard. He squeezed his eyes shut and as she teetered on the verge of utter ecstasy, as the knots deep inside her tightened, he gave a powerful thrust, shuddered hard beneath her.

And came.

Disbelief tore through her. No! Oh, please no! She was so close to that amazing edge, so close to her own fulfillment, and disappointed shot through on disbelief’s heels as he sank back into the featherbed, his breath coming in short, sharp pants. His eyes closed and he whispered, “Amrâlimê.”

“Thorin?” She stared down at him, the frustration of unspent desire, of unfulfilled arousal swirled through her. The fullness inside her dissipated, and he slipped from her with a low sigh bubbling to his lips.

But, to her surprise, he reached for her, gathered her against him and whispered, “That was—Mahal—that was amazing.”

Perhaps for him. Not so much for her. Still, she let him hold her, even as tears pricked at her eyes. This wasn't fair… it wasn’t fair that once more, she was left yearning for release, for the fiery hot pleasure the man she was with always seemed to savor. Surely there had to be something in it for her as well. There just had to be…

Thorin wrapped her in his arms, pressed a kiss into the top of her head, and whispered, “Sophie, what troubles you?”

“I—nothing.”

“Sophie,” he shifted slightly to look her in the eye, “what troubles you?”

She took a deep breath and shifted off him to stretch out alongside him. “It was over far more quickly than I’d expected.”

A hint of color rose along his cheekbones, as if rising from the depths of his beard as he rolled to face her. With a gentle forefinger, he stroked along her cheek. “It won’t be the next time, mesmel. I promise you, it won’t. It’s just… I didn't expect it to feel that good.”

“Wait…” She stared at him, brows pulled low, “what do you mean, you didn’t expect it?”

A hint of shyness wove into his smile now and her belly fluttered as he said, “I mean just that. I had no idea what to expect, because this was my first time.”

That was the last thing she’d expected him to tell her and at first, had no inkling as to how to respond, so she simply stared at him for a long moment before her tongue decided work once more. “Your first—are you joking?”

“I am not, no.”

“Thorin.”

“What?”

“You must be joking.”

He shook his head. “Why would I joke about that?” He curved his hand against her face and smiled in the low light. “So, did it not feel so good for you?”

“It did at first, but then…”

He came up over her then, urging her onto her back, covering her body with his. “Allow me to make that up to you, then, mesmel.”

She smiled at the mischief dancing in his eyes and decided that her questions would wait.

For now.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Richard Armitage

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franciskirkland · 10 months

Note

Alright to start this ask off I'm just gonna say my interactions w/ you have genuenly been one of the funniest ive had in a long ass time. I've read ur recent post and I empathyse a lot. You seem incredibly funny and genuine. Idk your situation and your background and even your age, but I think you can and are pulling through. Things will get better even if you dont actively want them to. Im not saying this in a vague hope to make the situation you are in better. Im telling you, as a person who from the age of 14 went from therapist to therapist, somehow been on meds that dont fuckin exist yet in croatia, someone who feels trapped in the very /country/ she lives in with no means of escape, someone who is "waiting" for things to finally financially/academicaly/politicaly be better so that I can make something of my life. As it did for me, you will feel joy again in what you do, in what you have, and in what you can achieve. I think it's ok to be down, its ok to feel like "if a bus hit me tomorrow i wouldnt protest" but the thing about people is we adapt rather quickly. So putting yourself out there, going to places you are scared to and believe yourself to be an outcast from is exactly what gets you to meet people and see things that youll remember forever. And after a while the outcast will stop coming to these places, the person there will be someone who belongs. Apathy is a way of saying "fine whatever i dont even care anymore" but youll see how much you care.

I started getting ok after a full decade of *trying* and what I've always found is that for me the saying "don't take anything seriously" is no.1 rule. I get worked up, anxious and overwhelmed with so much so many times.

You may have problems with people at work with friends and whomever, but the main thing you gotta remember is *you cant change anyone but yourself*

And its not a change of personality, hair color, interests, its how much something will get to you, how willing are you to give something up thats not working out and how you will percieve something.

I have no doubt that you know all of this crap but i guess i wanted to say all of that just bc there is no greater pain for me than when i see someone feel like i did regardless of the reason or situation.

Keep on truckin and doing what u love even if its mpregfrance posting. I will always be here to send you to liking-france-jail, mwah <3

hello my sweaty angle <3 i'm sorry i'm just replying to this now. i had to sleep on it because your thoughtfulness deserves a sincere reply.

first of all - thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being so kind, sweet and insightful and offering your support.

the fact that you would take the precious time out of your day to write this out for me is, in a word, unbelievable. i really appreciate you checking in, it's an incredibly caring thing to do. to be honest i'm a little overwhelmed by the magnitude of this unexpected message and i wish i knew how better to express my appreciation.

i really do love to hear that i made you laugh. i live to shitpost. i've always prided myself on my sense of humor and sometimes i feel as if it's slipping away, so it's reliving to hear i've still got it.

unfortunately i still haven't had the strength to eat. i'm heading to work in a bit. things are pretty rough right now, but when have they not been? obviously my present circumstances aren't the root cause of all my problems. in fact my life has improved since moving here.

extensive bianca lore and vulnerability under the cut, apologies in advance.

basically, in so few words, my current situation is that i'm nearly 25 and have nothing to show for it. i've lived in different cities across the US, had great jobs, apartments, friends, roommates, relationships, etc. i have done a lot of living in a short amount of time. but then, in retrospect, it feels like it stopped.

about 3 years ago i was in a very bad place mentally due to the isolation of the pandemic, and i met my husband online. in early 2022 i gave up everything, saved over $10k for the visa and moving costs, and relocated from the US to australia to live with him. our relationship itself has improved from how it used to be, but since the beginning we've had seemingly endless bad luck and financial setbacks.

last year, not long after our (very disappointing) wedding, i suffered a devastating miscarriage. ruptured ectopic, massive internal bleeding, required emergency surgery etc. not only was that traumatic emotionally, but i wasn't eligible for healthcare at the time bc of my immigration status, so we're still paying off the medical bill.

we share a house with my mother in law who is a domineering, emotionally incestuous single mom and an emotionally abusive narcissist. i don't throw that term around lightly, as so many people do these days, but i honestly believe she's devoid of empathy. she's admitted that she dislikes me and thinks i'm stupid because i don't talk much, and goes out of her way to make me feel unwelcome.

so i'm stuck in an area that feels, to me, like the middle of nowhere. i'm not homesick, i love this country. it's just that i'm not used to suburbs. i feel most comfortable in a city where there's people and places and things, neon lights and background noise and stuff to do.

i'd would be happy to live anywhere as long as it's not with her. it honestly feels like a prison sometimes. that sounds dramatic but she's cultivating an unbelievably hostile environment that causes me to feel on edge whenever she's around.

needless to say we need to move, desperately. it's our #1 priority. more than anything else i want a place of our own and eventually a family. we've been actively househunting for the better part of a year, but the rental market is catastrophically bad right now. it's not even about the money, since we're both working we can afford a decent place. it's just that it's so competitive. every showing i've attended, there's been like 30 other prospective tenants. we've been turned down from every apartment we've applied for.

on top of our living situation i have complex health issues that are just getting worse. my energy is zapped. trying to balance work work and housework leaves me with almost no free time to write.

this barely scratches the surface of why I Am The Way That I Am™. i'm not saying any of this to evoke sympathy or brag about 'having it hard'. simply trying to explain. my upbringing was abusive and dysfunctional in a number of ways. i just barely graduated high school. i never had traditional opportunities, i was raised in a way where there's basically no assumption/expectation that you'll ever be successful or fulfilled. i'm diagnosed with ADHD, PTSD and bipolar 2 - haven't been able to get my proper meds in australia. i've been addicted to hard drugs and alcohol. i'm not pleasant to be around. i will probably always look like and act like the lower class, white trash girl that i am. i have spent my entire life in survival mode.

i'm always in the midst of some identity crisis or running away from something. so yeah, i've been hurt and downtrodden. i've also experienced the beautiful side of life from time to time. i've gained a breadth of knowledge and met incredible individuals who introduced me to new perspectives and i'm forever grateful for them. with the way i've lived, i'm very lucky to not be dead or incarcerated right now.

ok, pity party's over. for real this time.

you're pretty much describing exactly how i feel. you know the struggle. the part about waiting to live my life; that's precisely where i'm at. i don't necessarily have a desire to fit in, i just want to get away into somewhere that i can adjust better to.

my isolation is partially due to a lack of energy but also i don't seek out interaction because i'm afraid no one else can understand me. not because i believe i'm too 'complex' or 'damaged' to be understood. that's a load of self-pitying bullshit. it's just scary to be truly seen. or vulnerable. or genuine. bc the results of such openness are unpredictable and uncomfortable.

it's hard, but i know i have to find it within myself to take that push. what's holding me back right now is mainly my material conditions, circumstances out of my direct control. i have no doubt i'll feel at least 50% better when i stop living with this woman.

i certainly have no problem with starting over if something doesn't work for me. contrary to what i might've described, i believe i'm pretty well adjusted, self aware and rational. as is obvious i don't take many things that seriously lmao. i went from caring wayyy too much about everything, being overly emotional and sensitive, to going entirely with the flow and accepting what i can't control or predict.

also i am well aware that you can't change people, that's never been my goal lmao i've never needed someone to tell me that <3

tl;dr, thank you. so much. this really uplifted and inspired me meli, thank you so much for being so thoughtful and compassionate.

it sounds like you're also stuck between a rock and a hard place in your own environment, and i'm sorry to hear that. it's a wretched feeling but i believe you you will thrive no matter the setting, because in all seriousness, you're incredibly talented. i hope you know you should follow your dreams. hell, it looks like you already are and you're giving us the privilege of witnessing it. your art is stunning, the passion and care you put into your work is obvious. your matthew is absolutely beautiful - like his maman.

from a rabidly devoted france woobifier to the designated france hater, i'm only going to say this once but you are validated in your distaste. i understand. you gotta admit though, he is a MILF.

if one thing is certain i will never stop frussyposting. in fact right now i am thinking about france hetalia big fat juicy boobies mmmm milky squishy. i'm giving her a teensy tiny little slut waist and childbearing hips. i would give him a brazilian butt lift but he doesn't even need it!!!

if that is a crime then lock me up. please. strap on the handcuffs and throw me in the crate for naughty little freaks teeheehee >:3

be careful tho. if you keep sending me gay ass love letters like this they're gonna start shipping toxic yuri melianca even harder <3

#this made my day #this ask gave me bottom emoji eyes!!!#DM me if you want babe #ask and ye shall receive #tw vent

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stxrvel · 2 years

Text

the 5 stages of (my) life

summary: he was everything. there was no before or after him. it was just him.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: i think 7k?

warnings: thoughts of loneliness, depersonalisation, mention of depressive symptoms, a lot of bad words at some point, implicit descriptions of sex. i wrote this to be pure angst, idk if i got it, we'll see, you'll tell me.

note: i was watching Grey's Anatomy today and a specific episode about a couple inspired me to write this. it's too inspired by that so thank you Grey's! i don't know if i got the angst i wanted, i hope i did. i actually wrote this just with suffering on my mind. anyway, hope yall like it!! (English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!) also, I uploaded this at half past one in the morning so I didn't have time to edit the quotation marks, but tomorrow night I'll make the text look much nicer!

thank u for reading!

You never thought things would go this far.

"I'm not going to stand here and watch you risk your life because you're incapable of expressing your feelings. I'm not worth being put through this."

"You're talking about my fucking life! Why do you want to take control of all the shit I do now? Fuck you."

"I can't believe how fucking insane you've become."

You never thought things would get worse like this.

"I gave up a lot of things for you and you know it!"

"You make it sound like I forced you to. I never asked you to give up your life for me!"

"Exactly, that's the damn problem! You've never asked me to do anything, you've never asked me to do anything, I've just done all this stuff on my own trying to cope with a relationship that's become… one-sided!"

You had heard for a long time how a great many people had said that their best relationships had started with a flame. You couldn't count on the fingers of your hands the number of times you've heard someone say that the best relationship is the one that is always alive, where they keep the flame burning.

But what if it's not a flame? What if it all started with a fire?

You'd heard a lot of things about love, about life, about attachment, but you'd never really experienced it, and you couldn't know how, with the lifestyle you led, your reactions would be when you finally had one. Although, honestly, you didn't expect to ever have one after so many disappointments and abandonments; however, there was one thing that was common about love, that you had heard everyone say: it comes when you least expect it.

But the moment came and, after that event, you considered that your life had only five stages. Only five truly remarkable things that had brought you to the eternal extreme of misery. There was nothing before, there was nothing after. There was only him.

You had seen that man, by far, about seven times in the last month. He had a stern look on his face, as if he was in a constant staring match with someone inside his head, or as if he was someone completely drained of emotion, who had lived and felt too much and was tired of it.

Or maybe he was just unfriendly.

Every time you went to therapy, within the last four weeks, you met that man.

The two of you always waited, sitting across from each other in the narrow hallway, trying fiercely to avoid each other's gazes. Or well, you tried not to meet his too much, sometimes it really felt too heavy. Then he would be called first and, more often than not, he would come striding out with his hands clasped. If his vibe was too strong for the session, your therapist never tried to point it out. When he left, the doctor would appear behind him with her typical half-smile calling you by your last name, even though you had asked her not to do so several times.

The other times, which were not so common, the man actually took the time to look serene. You even thought you saw him give you a nod in greeting once, but you couldn't be completely sure of that.

You had never spoken to each other, you were just two strangers who happened to be in the same place at the same time of day at certain times of the week. Still, sometimes, when his eyes met yours, you felt like you were looking into a mirror.

Anyway, you had never spoken to each other, until one day you decided to change that, just because what was the worst that could happen?

"After a while it feels like you have no reason to come, don't you think?"

The man turned his head, and it was the first time he saw you out of volition. His clear eyes moved in an almost imperceptible way, analysing something about you, your face, your clothes, your posture. He looked like a predator ready to strike, but he didn't count on you being a very, very chill gazelle.

"I don't know if you can relate, but it's been really hard for me to come these last few times. I think my only motivation is to come here to have a battle with you of who can go the longest without seeing the other for 30 minutes even though our feet are almost touching?"

You thought you heard a snort in response. Mmm, it wasn't much, but worse was nothing.

"You could just not come," he replied, more crudely than you expected, actually surprising you because you didn't expect him to even pay attention to you.

"Yes, I could," you agreed with him, your gaze drifting to the white tiles, "Anyway, I don't have someone who really cares that I'm okay."

You twisted your lips in a very conformist gesture, and dismissed your attempt at conversation as a failure. Indeed, what was the worst that could happen? That the man would think you were pitiful. But what does it matter? He is a stranger. He's the only person you see regularly besides your therapist. Why should you care that the conversation didn't work? You shouldn't expect the opposite. At some point he'll stop going, he can't be as bad as you. When you least expect it, it will just be you in that narrow hallway again.

"Therapy can be very counterproductive for people who are alone."

You looked up when the man spoke again. You didn't know if you were seeing wrong, but his gaze wasn't as hard as before. He seemed… sympathetic.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're not alone when we wait in this hallway."

You didn't answer him. You watched him as if he were a fly swatted on a wall. You didn't know what to say. What was that supposed to be? Words of support? From a stranger? And what was supposed to be a response to them? That man had flipped the table on you, catching you off guard, and that didn't make you feel very good.

You watched him even after a while in silence, when he had already looked away, his head was down and he had focused on other things. You didn't know what your scrutiny was about; you didn't know whether you were looking for a lie or a mockery, a truth or a ruse. You didn't even know what it was all about. But what does it matter anyway? He's a stranger. He's a stranger sharing that narrow corridor with you. A stranger. A stranger who gave you a few words of support. A stranger. It's a stranger. He is a person.

You shook your head, suddenly regaining your composure. You ran your hands over the fabric of your trousers several times, up and down, down and up. Constantly. About ten times.

You didn't know if it was just you, but you felt suddenly obfuscated in that corridor. As if the walls had invisible hands closing around your throat.

You didn't really know much. You only knew that after the doctor called the man, James, you would never again take the liberty of speaking to strangers as if they were acquaintances, especially those in therapy.

But your mind went blank when James stood up and, before he left, looked at you as if it was something he had planned to do. As if he really wanted to do it. As if he had intended to…

No.

No more.

It didn't work.

Of course, it goes without saying that it didn't work.

How could it work? You saw him at least twice a week. And you were weak. Too weak. Too weak. Extremely and potentially vulnerable to suddenly hitting people who gave you a little affection and understanding. You were vulnerable to hitting people. You were vulnerable to ending up in therapy. You were vulnerable.

So what didn't work? Trying to limit your conversations with James to looks. Over the next three weeks, he seemed to have made it his mission to try to keep you company. Did he have any idea how uncomfortable that was for you? But you weren't going to tell him, how could you? Apparently the man wasn't a grumpy, mean looks machine, he was definitely a person who was getting some therapy. He was a person who understood your situation because he had to go through it himself. He was a person. He was a stranger.

Mostly, at that moment, you remembered the conversation that had led you to be in that coffee shop. It was strange. You felt alien to yourself, to your surroundings, but you tried to keep your mind enlightened so you wouldn't freak out.

"You look different."

"We saw each other three days ago."

James twisted his lips. "That's no excuse for not noticing that you look different."

You took a deep breath.

"You really made it your business to talk about something every time we see each other. Did you get tired of me beating you in the staring duels?"

"I'm just trying to get you back in therapy."

"By harassing me with questions?"

"By turning me into a person who cares."

You frowned. The constant knot in your chest was starting to become more and more unbearable. You felt the food from that morning in your throat.

"You'll get the opposite."

James pursed his lips and held up his hands.

"Hey, are you doing anything on Saturday?"

That had been the first time. Yes. Completely out of the loop, somehow you'd agreed the first time. And maybe it wasn't as bad as you'd hoped. Or maybe it was. You had no idea. Just as you had no idea how you had ended up in the same situation for the fifth time.

Fifth time? My goodness.

"You're particularly quiet today," James' face suddenly materialised in front of you.

At what fucking point had he arrived?

"I'm always quiet."

"Not as quiet as today. Are you okay?"

"What are we doing?" you blurted out suddenly. You didn't even process the words in your head until you saw the man's face contort in confusion.

"What are we doing?" James repeated your question, "We're having coffee in a coffee shop."

"You're a top notch clown, you know that?"

The man let out a laugh, and you watched his shoulders move in time with his breaths.

"We're just sharing time. Don't freak out."

"Sharing time?"

"Yes, sharing time."

"I don't think I've shared time with someone in a long time."

"That's not bad. It's good to share time with yourself."

You twisted your lips. You stared at the bubbles in your coffee, still steaming on the table.

"I had to learn to share time with myself," you looked up to see him with his head cocked to one side, a gesture you had learned to associate with his absolute attention to your words. "You've shared time with yourself?"

James nodded.

"All the time, to tell you the truth. I can barely escape myself."

You smiled at him. The constant knot in his chest seemed to have subsided for now.

"I guess we both got to learn."

The man raised his glass of black coffee, tilting his head, "It's the hazards of the job."

Yes, that was definitely what it had to be about. The things that constantly occupied you outside of coffee shops and therapy. Of the things that occupied your head so that you didn't delve into your intrusive thoughts, even though sometimes they seemed to come alive and present themselves in the faces of the people you saw in your daily life.

Undoubtedly it must have been because of that night job. It wasn't a job you loved, it was a job you imposed on yourself to try to make yourself feel better at night when you were trying to sleep. It was a duty. It was a task you couldn't refuse. Too many people had already died for you to give up. You had nothing left.

Many people said it was the job of a vigilante; other people said it was the job of a criminal. In the end, what did it really matter as long as it left you with a clear conscience?

Your therapist knew, but you didn't know if James knew. If he was aware of it and preferred to overlook it to have coffee with you. Or if he knew and preferred to ignore it so as not to ruin things. Or if he knew and pretended he didn't so you wouldn't notice he was doing it all out of pity. Or if he didn't know.

Honestly, you didn't know which was worse.

Sometimes you thought things were better when you were just strangers in a narrow hallway. Sometimes you thought it would be better if you didn't have to make an emotional commitment to him, even though you knew you were already doing it; unconsciously you were doing it.

You had always believed that it was better to be alone. Not to have company. Not to share time with someone you could potentially lose. It was easier to get the job done when you got home and didn't have to answer a text or remember that there's someone waiting for you to text them that you got home safe and sound.

"Hey, don't overthink it."

James' voice broke your concentration. You focused your gaze on his face, suddenly feeling oblivious to the whole scenario.

"You don't have to give it a name, or even think about it. If you really, from the bottom of you, didn't want any kind of company, don't you think you wouldn't have come the first time I asked you?"

"Are you saying this is what I want?"

"I'm saying that you're a person who's used to being alone, but you don't have to be if you don't want to be."

"You're an enigma."

James smiled. "Thank you. I think the same about you."

But it was true what he'd said, you were thinking too much. One of the things your therapist kept telling you was to try to stop living in your head. Acknowledge your surroundings, feel every sensation and take in every possible smell.

It was difficult when the reason you wanted to be in your head all the time was the same reason that all your senses were perceiving at the same time.

But you tried. You felt the wood of the table and the warmth of the coffee cup, you took in the smell of caffeine and James's perfume, a little piney and citrusy, you savoured the coffee left in your mouth from the last time you took a sip. Slowly you tried to bring yourself back to that moment, to focus on your present and, sadly, to acknowledge that you were in a coffee shop with James Barnes.

It was something you constantly shied away from. To acknowledge that you spent time with him. With him. That he deliberately chose to spend his time with you. That you, intentionally, decided to spend your time with him. With the one who started out as a stranger. A person. A friend. A…

No.

It had been a while since you had decided to stop closing yourself off to all the possibilities life had to offer. Sometimes you didn't recognise how you got to that point, but other times you felt something close to pride for allowing yourself to go that far. And, really, it could have been one of the best or one of the worst decisions you had ever made in your life.

You spent weeks trying to deny James coming into your life, but the moment you opened the door to him, you had only gone up.

You didn't know you missed the company of a friend on sleepless nights and confessions. You didn't know you longed for the warmth of a lover until hours passed and you couldn't tear yourself away from each other. You didn't know you wasted time denying the feeling. You didn't know that you needed to take a few days off from the exhausting work you had set for yourself. You didn't even know that the work was exhausting.

When you were able to recognise all those things, you were also able to recognise that you had been living life on the edge. You were constantly exposed to everything before you met James. Exposed to danger, to death, to loneliness. You were living too fast because you felt you had no time, that at any moment you would run out of time and you wouldn't have done enough.

And then you finally decided to give yourself a break. From everything. Absolutely everything. Everything.

You moved in with James.

Yeah, definitely.

You took turns shopping. You took turns doing the dirty dishes. You took turns cleaning the flat. It felt like perfect harmony; like suddenly everything was in its place and it seemed like nothing could go wrong from that point on.

"Wait, wait!" you exclaimed with laughter. You moved your body off the bed, the peach-coloured sheet covering your body. You tried to stretch to reach for your mobile phone on the nightstand but James' hands around your waist prevented you from moving too much.

"You can answer that when we're done," the man purred, his hands straining, but not too hard, to pull you back onto the bed.

"Hold on a moment, James Barnes," you mumbled back, when you finally reached for the mobile phone and let out a triumphant laugh.

Vanessa Lennox, you read on the screen, as you felt James cling to your back.

"It's Vanessa," you told him as you unlocked the phone to check her messages.

"Vanessa texts you all the time."

"I know."

"All the time."

"That I know."

"These nights are supposed to be for us. She's not asking you out, is she?"

"No, no, she's…"

I'm in trouble. Can you come over?

"She's all right."

I can't, but I'll write to Tommy. He told me he was watching today, he must be near where you are.

"Are you sure?" you felt James' breath on the back of your neck, as his lips began to touch the most sensitive parts of your back.

"Yes…" you replied in a whisper. "She's going to be fine."

"Then stop turning your back on me," James spoke, his breath colliding against the small of your back. You arched unconsciously. "Look at me."

You inhaled air sharply, leaving the mobile phone locked to the side of the bed. You let James's hands guide your movements until you were trapped in his arms, his chest pressed against your back.

"You're bossy sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Only you, to be honest."

"Yeah, sure you have," you smiled incredulously.

You stirred until you could stand face to face with the man you shared a bed with every night. His light eyes quickly met yours, and his hands squeezed each side of your waist.

It was getting a little chilly. There were nights when you didn't know how you could stand to be so long without clothes under those sheets. It was easier for James, the weather didn't affect him as much as it did you at the moment. You shivered as a chill ran through your whole body, from the tips of your toes to the crown of your head. You pulled your body close to his, settling your head where his neck and shoulder met.

"Maybe the window is open," you heard him say.

"You know I always close the windows all over the flat before I go to bed."

"Okay, then we'd better figure out a way to get you warm."

As he finished speaking, the man moved, lowering himself from his position until his head was at the same level as yours. His eyes smiled at you as your teeth unconsciously flickered from the cold your body felt. His mouth also stretched into a smile, one of the many smiles you had learned to love. It was a very homely smile. The kind of smile that only you could see, that only you could see, that only you could see. It was a very domestic smile. It was the smile.

"Do you want me to get the other sheet?"

"No," you answered quickly. "I'm fine. We can proceed."

James let out a laugh. His eyes grew small from the flex of his cheeks as he laughed. You saw every flex and line of his face and it was like a balm to your mind.

It wasn't long before the man, in the midst of his smile and that feeling of ecstasy, brought his face close to yours and kissed you as if he hadn't kissed you in years.

Kissing James was like touching heaven. It was like being at peace after years of constant war. It was a great, vast, calm ocean. It was the absolute silence of tranquillity. It was like a great rest after years and years of travel. With his kisses you could begin to believe that you would never be alone again. With his kisses you didn't feel alone. With his kisses you believed it was possible to never be alone again. With his kisses you lost the fear of accepting him unconditionally in your life.

With his kisses, you lost the fear of loving him.

You loved the way he cradled the side of your face when he kissed you, every time, without fail. You loved the way he would start slow, soft, so tender, then fill you with passion and control your mouth without weariness or fatigue. You loved the way he then moved his hands all over your waist to the curve of your buttocks, as if he was admiring every millimetre of your skin through his touch. You loved the way he made love to you afterwards, sometimes so subtle and sometimes so out of control.

To have James was to have the best of everything at the same time.

"Are you getting up early tomorrow?" James asked as he pulled away from you. When you saw his eyes, his pupils were dilated and his breathing resembled yours: quickened and eager.

"No."

"Good."

He kissed you hard.

"Because you're not leaving this bed until Sunday."

James had begun to accept occasional missions that Fury gave him. You never agreed. No matter when or where they asked you, you would never have agreed to it. But clearly you couldn't just keep him in the flat until the idea was out of his head. You had thought about it a few times, but… no.

You tried to adjust to the fact that he wouldn't be around as much as before, but it was very difficult. It felt as if you had been given the most delicious candy in the whole world, left to treasure it, to savour it a little at a time, to get used to having it next to you, only to have it ripped away from you without warning, totally unprepared, leaving you to realise that everything was really out of your control. You didn't have the candy in your domain, you had been allowed to have the candy and then it was taken away from you.

"Try to concentrate," you heard Vanessa's voice.

You looked up to find her watching you from the roof of the building across the street. You felt a strong desire to rip the communicator from your ear and stomp it to dust with your boot. It was strange. It was a feeling of constant anger that you didn't know how to control. You were constantly angry except when James came to the flat.

"I'm focused."

"You better be," Tommy spoke up, "because my life depends on it."

"You shut your mouth and focus on not losing sight of the target."

"Vanessa, remind me why I agreed to do this."

"Because you're a great friend who supports absolutely everything we do."

Friend. At what point did you start to consider someone a friend? James was your friend. You thought you considered him that. Your partner. Your friend. James was your boyfriend.

"And you're totally unconditional to us."

A friend is unconditional. James is your friend. He's your partner. Friend. James is unconditional to you?

"I have to start working on my boundaries."

"No, our friend needs to start working on her temper. She doesn't get the required amount of sex a day and she's already starting to freak out."

You frowned.

"So you consider your friend's problems to boil down to sex alone?" you snapped at Vanessa, not avoiding the sour tone with which your words came out. You couldn't help but take it personally. Was that being an unconditional friend? Or being a friend?

"No," she replied quickly, "You know I didn't mean it that way. I was joking."

You hummed a nod, downplaying the words. Playing it all down. Because it didn't really matter, it was so silly to get angry about it. And it was very strange for you to get angry about it. You didn't even used to have relationships close enough to allow yourself to get angry about something they said about you. That was the big example of why you didn't do it.

"The target is moving. He's heading for the nest," Tommy spoke again, his serene tone bringing you back to the topic that was truly important. "Do you see him, Vanessa?"

"Got it."

"Good. Just move into the room towards… Wow, who's that? Who the hell's in there?"

"Damn," Vanessa mumbled.

"Wait a minute."

"We can't wait that long."

"I know," Tommy exclaimed, and from his exasperated tone you could imagine how he was running his hands through his hair repeatedly.

"What the hell do we do, Thomas?"

"I told you to wait!"

"We can't wait, dammit!"

"Wait."

"Thomas, I'm going to-"

"Hold on."

You peered through your binoculars. The large panes of glass surrounding the flat where the target was located didn't let you see much inside. The room the man was in was not as well lit, but you had gone in well prepared.

Finally you could see what the others were seeing. The man had entered the room he was supposed to enter, but there was another man in there with him. And, as far as you could see, they had made themselves comfortable. It didn't look like the other man was going to leave any time soon.

"Let's do it," you spoke, breaking the silence, giving voice to the only option they had that neither of the other two wanted to say.

"Are you insane?" Tommy exclaimed through his teeth.

"We don't have a choice. We declare it a red zone and end the mission."

"We don't even know who that man is," Vanessa interjected, her voice unsteady as she was unable to acknowledge that you were right, hesitating because you were running out of time.

"That's what the red zone is all about."

There was a moment of silence. You knew they were both considering it, the idea had been in their heads since the man entered the room, but their moral compass was much stronger than yours.

"He could be an innocent person," Tommy tried to justify not making that decision.

"How innocent can he be sitting there with the target?"

"And how do we know he's guilty?" Tommy exclaimed back.

"We're wasting more time discussing this," Vanessa spoke again, and you could breathe in her deep inhale before she said, "I think we should do it, Tommy."

The man cursed through his teeth.

You looked through the binoculars again, and both men were still inside the room.

You heard a beep on the communicator and then a steady static. Someone had changed the channel.

"I'm relieving myself as mission leader. You're in charge," it was Tommy.

"What?"

"I can't do this."

"Thomas…"

"I can't make this decision. Just… just do it."

You heard the beeping again and then it was Vanessa saying, "Thomas, what the hell are we going to do?"

"Vanessa, aim for the target," you ordered as you began to open the case next to you, just in case a situation like that arose.

"What?"

"This mission has been declared a red zone. We're going to proceed according to protocol."

The woman didn't speak again.

Nor did she say anything when you had climbed down from the rooftops and found yourselves in an alleyway in the middle of the buildings. You were waiting for Thomas, your guns already stowed in the van.

"He relieved himself," Vanessa spoke after a while, and though it sounded like she wanted to ask a question, it sounded like a statement.

"Yes."

Vanessa shook her head in an affirmative gesture. She didn't say anything else. She leaned against the concrete wall with a blank stare.

Your mobile phone rang inside the van.

"Is that Thomas?" your companion asked.

You moved closer to look at the device's screen.

James.

"No."

You took the mobile phone and moved away from the woman's figure, further down the alley. Your heart was racing, it was out of control. You had been waiting for that call for days. You had spent sleepless nights waiting for one measly message. You had taken hundreds of missions just so you wouldn't have to endure sleeping in a bed alone. You felt like your body had been frozen until that moment, until that call, and finally….

"James? Are you here yet?"

A woman called your name on the other end of the line.

"Bucky arrived a couple of hours ago."

Your feet stopped walking.

"And the mission went well?"

Silence.

A beeping and constant muttering was all that answered you on the line.

"Is James okay?"

"He's stable. He suffered some injuries. We lost communication with him in the last few days and we thought that…"

You couldn't quite remember when you had arrived at the old Avengers Complex. Your body moved automatically and your vision was so blurred that you had no idea how you could get through the crowd without bumping into someone. It was all very strange. You spent months convincing yourself that it would never happen again. Ever since James accepted those damn missions, you spent weeks trying to convince yourself that nothing would ever go wrong. That his kisses would always be there. His reunion kisses were the best, they were a wellspring of calm that washed away all the anxiety that consumed you alive during the days when you couldn't hear from him.

You had already made up your mind that it would never happen again. He promised you that it wouldn't happen, that you wouldn't have to relive that heartbreaking feeling one more time.

And he broke it.

You wanted to be relieved to see him. You wanted to be happy to know he was alive. Bruised, but alive. You wanted to hold him, to stay with him and never let him go again. But you just stood there in front of his stretcher. And he didn't try to make you come closer either. He saw it in your eyes, you knew it. He knew it.

Seeing him on that gurney made you angry. It aroused your anger that this man had broken the promise he sealed with so many kisses. You felt so much disappointment that your chest had become a bottomless void of a feeling of impersonality. You didn't want to be there. You didn't want to go through it. You preferred to think that you could overlook it. You should overlook it. Why didn't you overlook it? You could live in ignorance, pretend to be the perfect girlfriend. Everything could be easier for both of you, for you, if you just ignored all those feelings and took this situation as a normal person would.

But your knees gave way to your tears and crashed to the floor. From the corner of the room, you could see your body shake in uncontrollable weeping. You didn't know why it hurt so much, if he was alive. You didn't know the reason for the agonising pain, if he was there. And yet, your face contracted in incalculable pain. It was as if he had died on that stretcher. It was as if you had been called to come and acknowledge his corpse.

And you knew James knew, because he hadn't said anything since you arrived. He had done nothing but watch you.

There, from the corner of the room, you could see him crying with you.

He knew.

You knew it.

The mission was simple.

Infiltrate, seduce, accompany, lull, kill.

But simple doesn't always end easy.

Since James had returned to the flat, he had vowed never to go out on any mission again, under any circumstances. And, indeed, he was keeping that promise. He was spending as much time at home as before.

But you weren't.

Every time James tried to talk to you about that mission where he might have died, you went into a kind of shell where you shut yourself off from all communication and fled from that place to one where you felt more at ease. More in control.

You got so tired of running away that you decided to start investing that time in something that would actually pay off. You started accepting missions with Thomas more often than before.

You knew James was trying to understand you, he was trying as hard and as willing as he could. Sometimes you would arrive and there would be dinner for you in the fridge or in the microwave. Sometimes you'd see your clothes piled in a corner of the yard suddenly neatly folded and smelling decent. Sometimes you'd walk into the bedroom and find little presents on top of the nightstand, right next to your side of the bed.

You knew James was trying.

But you also knew he was getting tired.

Weeks passed since you first came in and he was waiting for you sitting on the couch. It was a very hectic night, with too many questions and not enough answers. Sometimes you arrived and the flat was lonely. Sometimes you arrived and there was no food. Sometimes you arrived and there was only screaming.

But it was easier that way. You'd already felt what it was like to almost lose him, you'd already experienced that overwhelming emotion that had been with you so much in the past, and you knew, beforehand, that if it happened with James, there was no way you'd get out of it alive, so it was easier this way.

So it was easier that way. He'd walk away on his own, you'd forget about him, and you wouldn't have to suffer if he ever died.

Die.

James would die one day.

But not a day when he was with you.

So yes, you did spend a lot of time away from home.

Maybe you really should have thought twice before deciding that this was the best option.

You knew you dreaded James' death, and the loneliness that followed his passing.

But you had no idea how panicked you would be at the thought of your own death, after meeting him.

Because you would forget him, and that would be fairly easy for you, but he wouldn't forget you. And he would suffer, much more than he was suffering since you didn't come home.

"What the hell happened?" you remembered hearing a voice.

You couldn't be too aware of your surroundings lately.

"It was a simple mission," you heard another male voice.

"It was supposed to go well. She was supposed to call us if things got complicated."

You remembered little of being in the hospital.

You remembered a lot of James sitting in an armchair next to your gurney.

You remembered a lot of his silence.

You also remembered when, some days, you were awakened by his cries and had to pretend to be asleep so as not to interfere with his suffering. Because, ever since that accident happened, ever since you could remember what happened after that, James had become wary of his feelings. He wasn't as expressive as he used to be. And you didn't have the slightest idea what to do.

You couldn't believe that before you could get to the point where you could tell how each other was doing just by listening to each other's breathing, and after that you couldn't even meet each other's eyes by accident.

You were two strangers again.

You were losing him. You knew it. Every day that you went without doing something, without talking to him, without showing a hint of remorse for what you'd done, was a day closer to being completely alone again.

And you didn't even show it, but it was painful. Seeing him shut down like that, seeing him lose the sparkle in his eyes when he looked at you, realising that he lost the will to try… knowing that you took away his will… it was all too much.

Really, you never thought things would get this bad.

"What are you doing?"

You didn't think they had gotten this bad, until one day you came to the flat and saw a suitcase in the room full of his clothes.

"I'm tired."

Those were the first words he'd spoken to you in days.

"And I don't have to put up with this anymore. So I'm leaving."

You knew it was going to happen, but for him to say it like that…

"You're leaving?"

James turned to look at you. His icy expression paralysed you.

"Are you still surprised?" he blurted out gruffly, and continued packing his clothes.

You just stood there in the doorframe, watching him move as fast as if he had a coal-fired engine in his chest. As if he couldn't wait for the moment when he could finally get out of there.

"Really…" he spoke suddenly, "You've really gone weeks, weeks, without speaking to me no matter how many times I've tried to talk to you, and you decide to do it now just because you're watching me leave? That's what I needed to do to get you to react?"

You didn't answer, you just watched him, your mind blank. He was angry. Irate, rather. And you knew he was absolutely right, but you couldn't do anything about it. You couldn't do anything about it because things were going your way. If James went away, if he went away hating you, he wouldn't suffer in the future when you died and you could forget him in peace. That was the best thing. The only good thing you could do for him: keep him away from you.

"Don't you think I deserve an explanation?"

Yes, you do.

"No."

"No?" he repeated incredulously. "I know I made a mistake. I made a mistake in accepting those missions. I told you, I did it countless times. And yet, all those countless times you chose to turn your back on me."

The man watched you, his eyes filled with pent-up emotions that he finally allowed to overflow.

"I tried to understand you. I really did. I gave you your space. I tried to do whatever you needed because I knew it was hard for you, but it was like… trying to water a cactus daily. Everything I did seemed to have the opposite effect."

You're right. You're absolutely right. I'm sorry, I was overcome with fear and panic. I got carried away. Please don't go.

"You didn't even give yourself a chance to listen to me. Not once. Do you have any idea how all that made me feel?"

Yes, you must have felt very lonely. Abandoned. Despised by me. It was my fault. I shouldn't have let it all go so far.

"Do you want me to call a taxi?"

Of all the things you longed to say, that was the only thing your mind allowed to come out of your mouth.

You saw him sketch the sternest look of disbelief you'd ever seen. But you also saw pain, extreme pain at the rejection of your words.

"Are you fucking kidding me? How can you be so cynical?" James exclaimed, his face contorted in anger and helplessness. You cringed a little at the shout but didn't move away from him as he came striding towards you in long strides. "Tell me, did you even care about me? At any point in this… relationship, was anything you gave me real?"

You half-opened your lips to answer, but could not formulate the sentences you knew would comfort his heart.

Yes, absolutely everything was real, all my love and suffering was real.

James walked away, and you didn't know if it was possible that his face could look even more downcast.

Your hands were shaking with helplessness. He was still there. You could still try to save him. Why didn't you? Why? Why? Why?

"How can you be so fucking expressionless? How can you not be in pain… for this? How?"

"You're going to be fine," the words escaped your mouth before your mind could process it.

The man turned to look at you.

"You really are…" he raised his hand and gripped it tightly, swallowing his words and turning back towards the wardrobe to start throwing his things into the suitcase.

Suddenly, he let out a scream. And then a cry.

"I swear, if you'd just tell me no, I'd stay."

He looked at you. His tear-filled eyes met yours and you knew that would be an image that would haunt you to death.

"I would stay… I really would, but… I still can't believe you are so foolish. The first thing you did when you left that hospital was to go back to another mission. How could you care so little about your life? How could you care any less that I care about your life?"

I care about my life even more since you're in it. Don't go.

"It's just work," is what you replied.

"No, no, no…" James hummed with laughter, but his face lacked grace. "I'm definitely not going to stand here just watching you risk your life because you're incapable of expressing your feelings. I'm not worth being put through this."

"It's my life, James."

"But you made me part of your life! I'm here! We're supposed to share our lives together. Why is it only about you now?"

"It's supposed to be my choices…"

"But why can't I be a part of them?" James exclaimed loudly. Your mind clouded over, and even though all you wanted to do was apologise from there until the end of time, you had too much pent up anger because of that very inability to say what you truly thought.

You're right, I am unable to express my feelings. I am sorry. Don't go away.

"You're talking about my fucking life! Why do you want to be in control of all the shit I do now? Fuck you!"

"I'm not trying to control anything, goddamn it! I just need to know…"

"No! You don't need to know anything. You don't need to know anything about me. We're here and you're packing your bag. You have no right to know anything."

James let out a snort.

"We're here and you still can't talk to me. I can't believe how bloody insane you've become."

"Just go."

Don't go.

"This is bullshit."

James finished throwing all of his clothes into the suitcase. You watched his every move, every flex of his body, every grimace on his face, every flick of his hair, how his fingers clutched at the things he took, how his scowl didn't lessen one bit. You watched and watched. It was all you could do.

You leaned against the doorframe and watched him take his anger and pain out on his clothes and his suitcase. It gave you a strange kind of feeling to see him like that, something that felt mildly familiar but you couldn't put a name to it. You wanted to turn things back. If you could turn back time you would, and every single thing that went wrong you would fix.

But would you really? Did the problem really go back to when things with James started to go wrong? The problem was you. You were the problem. You couldn't talk, you could only think, you could only repress, you could only suffer. Only you, you and you. Only you because you were alone, because you had always been alone and there was no reason to believe that could change. James lied to you, that was the reason he was leaving and you had no reason to stop him. He had to go. If he didn't want to go through that, he shouldn't have lied in the first place. If he didn't want to go through that, he shouldn't have asked you out in the first place. He shouldn't have met you. He shouldn't have spent time with you. You shouldn't have stopped him.

Stop him.

You should stop him.

James closed the suitcase.

"I did too much for this relationship. I gave up too much for both of us. I gave up everything I was for this relationship. I gave up too much for you and you know it!"

You narrowed your eyes and began to approach him in rapid strides. He towered over you by several inches, and there was a time when you loved that, but now you hated that he could see you that way. He had always seen you that way. So small…

"You say that as if I forced you. I never asked you to give up your life for me!"

"Exactly, that's the damn problem! You've never asked me to do anything, I've just done all this stuff on my own trying to cope with a relationship that's become… one-sided!"

You walked away.

"Just… leave now."

Please leave before I tie you to this flat and never let you leave again.

He wanted to say something else. You knew he wanted to say something else. It was obvious he hadn't said half the things he wanted to say. But he didn't.

He took his suitcase and left.

He really left.

He walked past you, not caring that the brush of his shoulder against yours almost made you fall. He passed you and walked straight to the exit, slamming the door hard on his way out.

He was gone. He was gone. He was finally gone. He was really gone.

Now you were alone. You were alone again. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? You'd done a lot of things in the last few months to make him go away, and he was finally gone… but then why weren't you satisfied?

Why did you want to run after him? Why did you want to go and kiss him? Why did you want to stop him and beg him to forgive you?

Who did he think he was to deserve that after what he had done?

But… what had he done?

No.

What had you done?

#james bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes

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fitrahgolden · 1 year

Text

Something That Digs At Us: 3 - You're the nicest thing I've seen

[Kate and Anthony have a second date, of sorts.

—

I must admit that I truly don’t know if anything interesting is gonna happen in this story and I’m sorry. I just like writing this version of Kate and Anthony.

—

TW: Brief descriptions of a panic attack.]

Anthony opened his eyes to find Kate, still asleep, cradling his head against her chest. He shifted just a little to look up at her. She looked serene. There was no other word for it. He couldn't help the swell of pride in his chest, however unearned it was. He was happy he could be what she needed to sleep through the night, at least one night. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Don’t fuck this up. Still, it made him optimistic about her trusting him and their potential to be together. She had to trust him. He kissed the part of her arm that he could reach and was content to continue lying there, soaking in the warmth of finally being in Kate Sharma's arms.

Eventually, Kate started to stir and moan. Well, that sound is gonna be a problem. Maybe Kate just didn't want to have sex last night. Maybe she didn't want to have sex with him at all. Either way, he imagined Kate waking up to find Anthony lying on top of her with an erection would probably be awkward at best.

He tried to calm himself down when Kate started squirming as she was becoming more and more awake. Anthony squeezed his eyes shut. Jesus Christ, I have to get off of her. He moved over to lie beside her instead. He could tell she was going in and out of sleep, slowly becoming conscious. He watched the process unfold, and felt compelled to stroke her hair and just…marvel at the vision beside him. Wake up, Foxtail.

"Who's that?"

Shit. I said that out loud? "Hey, good morning." He propped himself up and looked down at her.

Kate reached up and patted his cheek. "Good morning. Who's Foxtail? Another code name from the picnic basket caper?"

"Uh…" Anthony ran his hand over his face and sheepishly peeked at Kate, who seemed equal parts curious and amused. "Foxtail barley is my favourite species of grass."

There was silence as Kate's brow furrowed. Then she smiled and chuckled softly. "That's cool."

"No, it’s not. Having a favourite grass is absolutely not cool, Kate."

"Who’s Kate? I thought my name was Foxtail."

“Jesus.” Anthony fell onto his back and covered his eyes with a forearm. "I know giving you a nickname when we aren't even… Well, it's weird as fuck. It just slipped out, truly."

It was Kate’s turn to roll onto her side to look at Anthony. “I may like it. I have ‘Professor Death Blade’ ready to go if we get there. We’ll just have to see how it goes.”

Anthony peeked at her from under his arm. Don’t ask. It will ruin the moment. “Does… does that mean you had a good time last night?” Anthony grimaced. Idiot.

Kate nodded. “I did. Did you?”

“I had an amazing time last night. I’m glad it finally worked out.” Kate looked down, seemingly embarrassed. Anthony rubbed her arm. “No, no. I understand. I wasn’t trying to… I had a great time, Kate. And I hope we can do it again.”

Kate visibly relaxed and put her head back on her pillow. “Sorry. I mean– Ugh, I’m trying not to apologise for, like, um, for just being who I am. Or for doing what I need to do to be OK. I used to do that all the time. My therapist called me out on it. Rude.”

Anthony nodded and lifted a hand up to Kate’s hair and pushed some back over her shoulder. “Very rude.”

She twisted her mouth. “Can we inelegantly change the subject?”

“My specialty.”

Kate giggled. “What do you have on today?”

“Well, what with Daphne and Simon getting engaged, Mum wants us all at the house today and tomorrow for all kinds of celebrations and family bonding and tormenting of Simon.”

“Poor Simon.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t, either.”

Kate looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath as she spun the ring on her finger. “Kent’s a bit of a drive from here.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need to leave, then?”

“Not really, I just need to go across the hall and pack an overnight bag and go.”

Kate nodded with a quiet, “mmm.”

Anthony shot up to sitting. “Shit, was that you telling me you want me to leave? Sorry, that went completely over my head.”

“Anthony. If you want to leave, you can go, but I wasn’t telling you to. I… don’t want you to.”

“Oh. Good, ‘cause, um… I don’t want to leave, either.” He really didn’t. This almost felt like they were already on a second date. Anthony leaned back against the headboard and Kate followed suit by sitting up. Anthony took a chance and slid his hand into hers and could not stop the sigh of relief when Kate intertwined their fingers and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’m surprised Newton hasn’t run in here.”

He felt Kate shrug next to him. “He doesn’t come in here unless I tell him to. And it’s early, so he’s OK out there. May even still be asleep.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Anthony asked. “And do you have plans today?”

“Visiting Amma, probably. If I can get myself to leave my flat.”

Anthony decided to leave the second part of that alone. “Amma is… Kaveri, right?”

“Right.”

“And Mary is…”

“Mum. Or Mummy, if I’m being a brat.”

“But they aren’t together, right?”

“No, Amma was my dad’s first wife. And Mary’s my stepmother.”

“But Kaveri and Mary are friends?”

Kate nodded.

“That’s… lucky.”

There was silence for a while until Kate looked up at Anthony, “You want to ask more about it, don’t you?”

“Yes, but it seems really personal.”

“Well, seeing as how we’re lying in bed together with nothing but boxers and a satin nightgown separating us…”

“I’m very aware of that.” Too aware.

Kate laughed before continuing. "My parents divorced when I was three. Appa married Mary when I was six. Appa and Amma stayed close. We were all this happy family, really, the four of us. Five, once Ed was born. People thought it was odd. Sometimes they thought Amma and Mum were sister wives, which we all thought was quite funny. Amma and Mary bonded after Appa died. They both… They were both in a pretty bad place for a while. And they had each other to be in it with."

"What was your dad's name?"

"Maaran."

"May I ask why your parents split up? Sorry if this is too many questions."

"No, no. It's fine." Kate looked away, sighing with a faint smile on her lips. "My parents loved each other. Truly. They explained it to me when I was older. They grew up together. Their families are close. They were best friends. Everyone assumed they would get married. It made sense to them, too. So, they did. But they were never in love. And that could have been fine, but they realised they both wanted the chance to find it. Like, passionate, romantic love. And Appa did with Mary."

"And Kaveri?"

"No. It hasn’t happened."

"And she's alright?"

"Oh, she's thriving. I can't keep up with her. And I don't think she needs me to."

Anthony recognised the resignation in her voice. “It’s odd, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“May I ask how old you were when your father passed?”

“Eighteen.”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“So was I.”

“Oh… Yeah, I think I knew that.”

“And you said Kaveri and Mary had each other.”

Kate started spinning the ring on her finger. “I did say that, yeah.”

“And who did you have? Who took care of Edwina?”

Kate sat up straighter and started shaking her head. “Anthony–”

“Kate, I know what it’s like.”

“That may be true but I don’t want to talk about it right now. I don’t want to think about it. Shit.” Kate started hyperventilating. “Shit!”

Anthony moved to face Kate. “Shit, OK. Um…” Anthony heard rustling outside of Kate’s bedroom before Newton ran in carrying a bag in his mouth. He jumped on the bed, ignoring Anthony, and sat in Kate’s lap. Kate gathered Newton up in her arms and took the bag he was carrying. She opened it and out fell a pill bottle. Kate popped one of the pills into her mouth and swallowed it. As she stroked Newton’s fur, she took a series of slow, deep breaths.

Anthony was staring helplessly, at a complete loss. He wanted to take care of her, but he didn’t know how.

“It’s OK, Anthony.”

Anthony didn’t realise he had zoned out until Kate’s voice pulled him back. She’d calmed down, but she was still clutching Newton.

“Kate. I am so sorry.”

“Anthony–”

“I didn’t know what to do.”

“There was nothing you needed to do. That’s what Newton’s for. What meds are for. What breathing is for, remember that?” She smirked a little at that last part.

“Right. I still feel like I should have done something.”

Kate shook her head and put a hand up to Anthony’s cheek. “I know what you can do.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t make it about you.”

“Yeah. Of course. I’m s–”

Kate put her fingers on his lips. “I know. But this isn’t something you need to concern yourself with. At least not until–Well, unless… We’ll have to see how it goes, right?”

Anthony nodded with a soft smile. “We’ll see how it goes.”

Kate almost imperceptibly tapped Newton a couple of times and the dog hopped off the bed and wiggled his stout body out of the room. She pulled Anthony into a hug. He took the opportunity to inhale deeply. “You smell good.”

“It’s probably my soap. It’s–”

“Lilies. Trumpet lilies, to be specific. I imagine they were harvest from the region of–”

Kate pushed him away with a laugh. “Show off.”

Silence settled between them and Anthony found their hands clasped on the bed.

“I need to be alone for a while.”

“Yeah, OK. I need to get ready to go to Mum’s.”

They both nodded but neither moved for a little while.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

“Can I kiss you good-bye?”

Kate nodded enthusiastically. “Please do.”

The kiss was decidedly not of the chaste variety and did not feel like good-bye at all. Still, Anthony found the willpower to crawl off of the bed. As he put his clothes on and turned to leave, Kate giggled.

“Wait a minute. What’s on the back of your arm?”

He looked over his shoulder. “Oh, right.”

“Is that a tattoo of foxtail barley?”

“I told you it was my favourite.”

“You did.”

“Still cool?”

“Even cooler now.”

—

“Ma?”

“In here, Chellam.”

Kate found her mother crocheting in her living room. Kate leaned down and kissed her on the cheek before sitting next to her on the couch. Newton looked at her expectantly and Kate pointed to her feet, so he settled there.

“What are you working on?”

“A jumper for Edwina. Mary helped me pick the colours. Nice, eh?” She held up the work in progress, rightfully proud as it looked like it was coming together beautifully.

“Very. She’ll love it.”

Kaveri’s hands continued to manoeuvre the yarn and hook around each other expertly. “So…”

Kate exhaled as she leaned her head back on the couch and looked over at her mother, whose eyebrows were raised over her glasses. “It…” A smile broke out. “It went really well.”

“Ah, nalla! When is he popping by?”

“Amma…” Kate rolled her eyes.

“I’m kidding–mostly. Somewhat. About thirty percent kidding. I’m happy for you, chellam.”

Kate said nothing.

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“We’ll see if he wants to go out again.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Kate shrugged. “Think he wants to. It’s just… I had a panic attack this morning while he was still at mine. We were talking about Appa and he kept asking about how things were after he died.”

“Why would he–”

“He was the same age I was when his dad passed. I really think he was trying to connect over it. But it was too much. I wasn’t expecting it and it was… It was just too much.” She didn’t realise her breathing had become shallow until Newton jumped into her lap. Kaveri pulled Kate over enough to hold her.

“Ah. Please don’t tell me that boy treated you poorly because of it.”

“No, no. He was fine. He was quite… attentive. But I’ve been through this before. Though I suppose it would be harder for him to ghost me since he lives across the hall.”

Kaveri sucked her teeth. “Let’s try to base our expectations on his actions, hm? Not any goyyala that may have come before him. And if he turns out to be one of them, he’ll have to answer to me, Mary, and Agatha. And we’re all scared of Agatha. OK, chellam?”

Kate nodded.

“So, he was at yours this morning, eh?” Her smile was cheeky.

Kate clicked her tongue. “Amma, please. It was a literal sleepover. I’m still as pure as the driven snow.”

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atinycupofpositivitea · 2 years

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✨ Day 319/365 ✨ of positive reflections and self-care

Let's talk about today 📝

I did all of the things I looked forward to and they made me feel happy and accomplished, like I'm this unique creature that it's at the center of my own world. It felt magical. The day overall wasn't great though, I had to call off work because I had been anxious all day, non-stop panicking and freezing. Mostly due to my sister's mood swings, whenever she gets aggressive I lose completely any focus and procrastinate anything because I have brain fog and I'm too anxious to start any task. Luckily I followed up with my notebook so at least I managed to deal with the emotions on the spot. As for the day, I spent it mostly on social media, laying in the bed feeling bad. Later in the day I had a shower, did my hair, then helped a friend on discord, exercised and did some yoga, which was the highlight of my day. I truly believe in the power of healing, it's just very hard to commit to it (even though it's basically the solution to traumas) and very easy to get depressed instead. But we keep going because we know better.

What are you grateful for today? 🌻

I'm grateful for myself, for doing things I love even when I don't feel like loving them.

What are you looking forward to tomorrow? 🌄

I'm looking forward to talking to my therapist about the anxiety spikes I have been having lately, paired with the fact that I'm barely going out and seeing any friends, on top of the fact that I still haven't found a job. I'm also happy that I will see one of my friends I haven't seen in a long time.

#positive mental attitude #positive thoughts #positivity #we can do this #note to self #self love #mental health #self care #positive #self healing #2022 journal #we are in this together

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fizzingwizard · 1 year

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why is a t-shirt more expensive if it doesn't have sleeves?? lol

buying my dad a birthday present and having my annual "I don't have a family anymore" breakdown :)

I actually think it would have been easier if my parents had separated when I was a kid. As an adult I have no footing to figure out how to be their kid anymore. It feels like we lived together under one roof for decades and are now complete strangers.

First my brother. dealing with his legitimate issues, pushed us all away, and now he only talks to my mom.

My mom separated from my dad also for legitimate reasons and is now living with her boyfriend.

My dad's pushed everyone who loves him away, which he thinks is because they can't handle his political views, but actually it's because he called them all stupid and idiotic to their faces. Multiple times.

Mental illness abounds. My dad won't see a therapist, he'll only see a family friend who believes some pretty hokey stuff about the mind and 'vibrations' etc. But I look at it as at least he's talking to someone. I may not understand her beliefs, but I do know her as a kind person, and if my dad feels comfortable confiding in her then the rest isn't my business. My dad has told me he thinks he has ADHD, depression, he blames it all on his own family life growing up, he recognizes his mistakes - but also he can't stop himself calling people stupid. He really tries when he talks to me though. I do think it's dementia or undiagnosed mental illness because at this point he spouts angry politics like a tic, anything triggers it, any alternative point of view or simple fact check is an attack, and he has to work really hard to rein himself in. But again, he does try with me.

My mom seems really happy and her boyfriend seems nice. I don't dislike him at all. But I feel like I understand the step kid reservations about the "replacement dad." I never did growing up. I just chalked it up to "feeling sad" but it's more than that, it's a future you thought you'd have with one person, instead of disappearing when that person does, continuing with an entirely different person. It's not bad of course. It's mostly good. But it's beyond sad at the same time. Someone was supposed to be there who isn't, even though they're still alive. Someone else is there instead.

Brother seems to be doing much better too. I'm not sure of the details but it sounds like he either officially has some sort of autism diagnosis, or has gathered enough evidence to self-diagnose. It sounds like he's made some supportive friends at his new job and is figuring things out, so that's great.

My dad is the hardest because I don't hear much good news from hi. I don't hear bad news either. I want to hear that he isn't alone all of the time. But realistically I think he's got to have trouble making new friends and being part of a community. He never had trouble doing that before, but his habit of complaining and talking politics constantly gets in the way now. When we talk he usually seems okay, right until he starts talking about our family and how things used to be, and then he starts to cry. So I really struggle through calls with him. Gotta do one today or tomorrow because it's his birthday and I'm so upset just thinking about it.

It's now been four years since my parents separated so you'd think stuff like that would be getting easier. I don't think it is for my dad. And for me, I just keep feeling like my mom's off living her life, my brother's off living his somewhere else, and my dad's living his in another somewhere else, and there's no longer any reason for all of us to be together again. I barely know them anymore.

Ironically I was the one who left first. Not that my staying would have changed anything, though. I just avoided home during what college breaks I could because of my brother's outbursts. I tried to get away. I was lucky that I was following my dreams. Since things started falling apart, I went to college, moved to Japan, got a job, met my boyfriend, and have just been living mostly happily. Idk why all the trouble happened around me instead of to me. I am grateful for it, but it also makes me feel like even more of an outsider.

Even when I was a kid, I didn't have the complaints that my brother did about our family or school or whatever. That doesn't mean his complaints aren't valid. It's a bit complicated but there's plenty of stuff that was messed up. Some of it affected only him. But what did affect me I guess just didn't bother me in the same way. I always felt like anything I didn't like would go away some day so I didn't worry about it. That's why I describe myself as an optimist even though I don't think that's people's impression of me when they meet me haha. But I have a weird optimism that just assumes any bad situation is going to work out. Right now my big fears are mostly about my dad being alone in his old age. I'm still thinking about what I should do. I don't have any money and I don't have a house. Even my apartment is a shoe box. I also live in a different country which my dad wouldn't like (just because he's very much a creature of habit and has never enjoyed things being different - food especially). I'm not in a situation where it's easy, or even possible, to just say come live with me. I'd probably have to leave Japan and go home. Which is something I always knew was possible when my parents got old. But I figured if that happened, I would have both parents living with me, not just one.

It could be good though. I just don't know how I'd do it. If I had to move home, I have no idea what that would mean for my boyfriend, who has never expressed an interest in even visiting the US, let alone living there. Having ties in different places feels like being made to decide who you love more.

#fizz's life #personal

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meditating-dog-lover · 26 days

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Health update

My skin is looking better and I feel better. I haven't used steroids in a week and a half. I got some inflammation today. Probably because I haven't used steroids and possibly due to rising progesterone during the luteal phase (apparently may trigger some inflammation but I'm not 100% sure here).

My neck and ear infections disappeared 95%. My face does have some rashes, but nowhere near as bad as it was 2-4 weeks ago.

My hands may be inflamed, but look great for skin that hasn't been treated with steroids in a week and a half. I couldn't go a week without steroids or protopic since March.

I know fasting for too long made my inflammation way worse. It leads me to believe that ultimately, my eczema has a stress/hormone root cause (besides genetics of course). I'm meeting with an OBGYN next week to ask about how hormones play a role in inflammation. I'm not crazy about the idea of birth control, but I can ask about supplements like Vitex, chasteberry and DIM to see if they can help. In general being in charge of my hormonal health can be very helpful, especially in the context of stress and skin inflammation. I know reducing steroid use and not fasting and reducing stress and following an anti-inflammatory diet will also help with blood sugar and insulin resistance. We associate eating sugar and junk with blood sugar imbalances. But chronic stress and medication can elevate blood sugar. Such as prolonged fasting and steroids.

I've been eating a banana each morning. I'm taking a break from fasting, but am breaking my fast with a healthy carb. I now also have a lot of energy and can go for daily walks of 11k steps.

I'm seeing a psychiatrist tomorrow and I hope that goes well. I'm also seeing my therapist and plan to go more often, because I need it lol.

I want to eventually focus on gut heath and see a dentist. I want to go with my mom. I'm going to speak to my therapist about this. I don't like dentists and feel like they either recommend treatments that are unnecessary or know nothing about health in general. Ask a dentist if they know what vitamin K2 is and watch them give you a confused look. I know fat soluble vitamins and minerals are great for teeth. Unfortunately I do have issues with malabsorption, which prevents me from absorbing enough nutrients from food and supplements. I know this has an impact, which is why gut health here is important. I'm taking my enzymes and drinking aloe juice, but I'll see how this goes and if I need to modify my protocol.

Another good thing - by following my anti-inflammatory diet, I'm avoiding foods that have hidden sugars (which are inflammatory by nature). These include sauces, sandwiches, breads, pizza, fried/breaded foods, processed cheeses, white pastas, etc... Some other foods like instant oatmeal, yogurt, non-dairy milks and coffee do too. But I get those unsweetened. With that, I'm consuming less sugar and am reducing my cravings for sugar in general. I do eat chocolate sweets, but in small portions (I tend to stick to 70% dark chocolate). I had a mocha last week and 1/4 of a semi-sweet Crumbl cookie and some dark chocolate caramel pieces. I keep the portion sizes small. I lost my cravings for sugary baked goods like cookies and brownies in large portions (I had a brownie with my mom last month when I ordered pizza and it just felt too sweet an decadent, that I had to have a healthy dinner afterwards instead of pizza). So a small piece will do (like the 1/4 cookie). I know this helps a lot with things like blood sugar and insulin resistance and even teeth. I do have a sweet tooth and I satisfy it with 70% chocolate because I love chocolate. But I keep <70% chocolate and baked goods and mochas to a minimum. I do have them but in smaller portions, thanks to my new diet which reduces my intake of hidden sugars, and I don't even feel deprived. I do get sauces that use avocado and olive oil as bases (like mayo) and I found an app that shows local restaurants that don't use inflammatory seed oils.

I'm feeling better now. I'm just worried about my skin because I'm worried about future flares and things getting worse. But I'm seeing overall improvement. And I'll go see the psychologist and dentist with my mom in the future, which is also causing me stress.

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karasa · 8 months

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Do you think i'm crazy?

Originally Published Jul 24th, 2017

Do you think I’m crazy?

Because my therapist does.

I’d like to preface this with a quick thank you, to the internet. Specifically weird facebook, specifically aesthetes. Thanks for giving me space to completely ignore my own shitty shitty thoughts and delve into a more reformed sense of self-deprecation and great humor. Thank you, mr. skeletal

I’d also like to say that it is close to a miracle that i am still here, and alive. If you told me when i was 12 that i would actually make it to see 20, it wouldn’t have made sense.

Depression creeps. It creeps up on you like lights dimming in a theater. Your eyesight gets fuzzy and your breathing slows down and you let your mind set into a new reality. Depressed is a word I learned early but never actually used, because from what i understood about the word, if you are depressed, you need help.

Help isn’t a hug or a smile or someone who wants whats best for you: help is a waiting room with no one in it. Help is a 3 page consent form and no family vacations because you have to pay for therapy. I never ask for help anymore.

Moreso depression is the feeling that help cannot come, it is not available to you and it never will be. it is hopelessness, helplessness, loneliness incarnate. I am in love but I am lonely. There are places to go for help — but I can’t.

Can’t. Can’t means a lot more when you talk about yourself. It’s a reflection of what you think you ought to be doing, and how much you believe in yourself. If someone says that you are qualified and you say you can’t, the idea is that you are being modest, because you can! you, are qualified, able. Can’t is a failsafe. Can’t will get you nowhere. Cannot’s have not gotten many people anything they deserve in life. However with depression, it seems like you can’t be deserving of anything.

I constantly find myself apologizing.

One time I apologized to a woman, for opening my backpack and getting my notebook out, though it had nothing to do with her and she wasn’t in the way at all but i felt compelled to admit that i’d been so foolish and stupid and dumb, moronic and unfit for society because my notebook was in my bag, not my hands. She laughed at me and told me not to apologize, so i apologized again, cursing myself for being so stupid as to apologize to someone who clearly didn’t care. Apologizing for existing, in my experience, is the most intense rejection of self.

It’s hard to do things for yourself when you’re feeling undeserving. Bathing, brushing your hair and putting on a full outfit. Making breakfast, lunch or dinner. Making a Healthy breakfast, lunch or dinner. Making plans. Going to the grocery store. Going to the pharmacy, going to your friends, going to the kitchen, going to the mailbox. getting out of bed, cleaning your room, smiling, hobbies, calling your parents. Every little thing feels like a to-do list written in the worst handwriting imaginable. By even trying to get started, sometimes, it becomes too much to bear. and we break, and we curl back up in the blankets, and promise to try again tomorrow.

If i could explain anxiety, I probably wouldn’t have a headache right now. I wouldn’t be afraid to go outside if anxiety had a cause/effect kind of spiel, but instead anxiety is best defined as Jean-Paul Satre’s hell: a feeling you cannot escape. Anxiety is getting off the bus one stop early because you don’t want to miss your stop and you’re not confident enough that when you press the button, it will work. Anxiety is spending 2 hours getting ready for a party and spending more time trying to convince your friends to leave than actually enjoying yourself. Anxiety, goddammit its that feeling you get when you don’t know whether you completely aced that math test or if you got every question wrong and it keeps you up for three days only to go into class and find out that on the way to work, your professor had her window open and all of the papers flew out, so you have to take a make-up test that day. It’s wasted energy because your body can’t think straight.

Somedays i can’t leave the house. Makes it hard to have a job and class and friends when that happens. It’s never as bad as I expect, but expectations are our own form of realities, so when I make it back after my scrimmages I find myself, exhausted.

Why did I do that Why did I do that

Why did I do that

Why

Did I

Do that

(why did I do that?)

Every scenario you wonder why it went wrong, every scenario it is your fault why it went wrong. It’s schrodinger’s predicament, as it may or may not have happened in the way you believe it did, but you will never really know what happened until you peel back the lid that you’ve closed tight on yet another experience that haunts you, like if you forgot the name of the person’s birthday party you were at, or rather, you weren’t sure of you’d forgotten it, so you tried so hard to avoid using any name to refer to them all night that you ended up hiding behind the snack bowl, hoping to listen in on a conversation that would open your mind up to the realization that you were right about this person’s name the whole time.

Every layer you reveal is another one of your close friends, verbally giving you a pat on the back “don’t worry about it, it’s really fine.” If I had a genie, if genies exist, someone should ask for a redefinition of the word “fine”

Is it fine that I spilled some water on my lap at dinner? Or is it fine if I knocked the whole pitcher over. Is it ok? Or is it just “fine”? With the redefinition of fine I believe I’ll find myself at ease a lot more, but then everything will not be fine.

I started to carry around reminders about how insignificant some problems are, however the panic sets in before I can get my shaky little fingers around the crumpled up fortune in my pocket.

At the end of it all, im grateful for a mind able to dissect my own faults and frenzies, grateful that I am not debilitated by such fears and feelings.

At the end of it all I still breathe and walk around, I brushed my teeth today and even though at the end of the day I don’t think anyone really gets what I’m saying,

At the end of it all, it will be ok.

#words #therapy

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petunia-petals-please · 2 years

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The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

- The Bad. - The Good. - The Ugly - What I am Learning - How I am Growing - Conclusion,

The Bad.

Today has been one of those days that just seems to keep getting worse. It started off with a missed phone call from my lawyer about my SSI, which had me feeling down right from the start. I was really looking forward to getting some good news, but now I have to wait to hear back and find out what was so important. The bad.

The Good.

I did have a therapy session today, which went alright, but it's still tough to talk about everything that's been going on. My therapist is great and always makes me feel better, but some days are just harder than others. The good. My boyfriend has been working on some projects all day, which has been great to see, but it's also a reminder that I haven't been able to do much lately. I've been trying to figure out how to use this Oracle Virtual Machine, but I just can't seem to get the hang of it.

The Ugly

To top it off, I'm starving and there's nothing good to eat. I feel like I've tried everything, but nothing seems to satisfy my cravings. I just want to take a nap and start over tomorrow. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day. I just feel like I keep struggling to miss opportunities if that makes any sense. I have so many things going on at once at all times and I don't know which direction to go with. Not to mention the fact that I am actively self teaching myself how to do all this new computer tech. I am trying to figure out how to setup a new wordpress site through oracle so that I can have the domain that I want and not have to pay for the service. Which would be AMAAAZING! Because who wants to have to pay for things when you can get them for free? Am I right?

What I am Learning

Its just really hard. It is one of the most challenging things that I have put on my plate in a really long time. Not to mention the fact that I am not that tech savvy to begin with. HA HA. But I will preserver in the end! I don't know what sparked the initiative to want to do this inside of me was but whatever it is I kind of like it.

How I am Growing

I was talking to my therapist today about how I've never really been one to take initiative in my life. I've always just went with the flow and let other people be the conductors in my life. However, more and more recently that's been changing. I have been more willing to take the first step and push myself to do and try things I never would have before. Its a really exhilarating feeling. I can feel and see myself becoming a new woman that I love and appreciate and respect. I am no longer shying away from things that make me feel insecure or obsolete. I am taking challenges head on. Not only am I facing these challenges but most of the I conquer as well. This is not to say I don't get frustrated or stuck sometimes because believe me, I do. But I am learning how to take breaks and do things in increments instead of trying to rush and get everything done all in one sitting. I really think that I have my boyfriend and starting this new company to thank for my new found talents. I would have never been this patient with myself if life never put certain obstacles in my way forcing me to slow down and embrace things step by step. I literally have no choice but to do so in some circumstances and now I try to apply it with everything I do. Stop being so impulsive and think.

Conclusion,

Think before I react. Think before I respond. Think before I do. Think before I think. ha ha. - The Bad. - The Good. - The Ugly - What I am Learning - How I am Growing - Conclusion, Read the full article

#howiamgrowing #mentalhealth #thegood #theugly #whatiamlearning

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cherienymphe · 3 years

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all of my writing explores dark themes such as non-consent, dubious-consent, and a/b/o subjects. if any of this offends you, this has been your warning!

➯ dividers by @firefly-graphics | @straywords

➯ banner by me

Daddy Dearest

You’re a single mother who’s new to town. Steve Rogers has convinced himself that he’s exactly what you and your son need.

Claimed

A mission goes awry and Steve loses control. {alpha!Steve}

Made for the Gods

The God of Lightning takes what the God of War has. {mythology au}

Kept Woman

Being in the wrong place at the wrong time finds you at the mercy of a dangerous man with an obsessive hunger that can’t be satisfied. {mafia au}

Unhappily Married (completed)

Your dream job becomes a nightmare when your employers reveal their true colors. {dad!Steve}

I II III IV V

Protect & Serve

Escaping an ugly past, you have no choice but to return home. While much has remained the same, Officer Rogers is a new addition who has won over the hearts of the town in your absence. And no one believes you when you start to see him for who he really is {cop!Steve}

Regrets of Yesterday

➥ Seeds of Tomorrow {II}

➥ Mistakes of the Heart {III}

Your arranged marriage to the infamous Steve Rogers isn’t what you initially thought it would be, but things have worked out better than you could have imagined. However, your arrangement with your husband becomes complicated when feelings, and circumstances, that neither of you anticipated come into play {mafia au}

Stranger Beside Me

You and Steve have the perfect relationship, and you want to keep it that way. It’s why he can never discover your secrets, but your secrets wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for his own.

Cruel Intentions

After escaping an abusive ex, you find solace in a therapist recommended to you by a friend.

Love Bites

In a coven, the master’s word is law, and humans are nothing more than pets to symbolize wealth and prestige. They tell you that being the master’s pet is a great honor, but the poorly constructed façade is broken when you forsake honor for love {vampire!Steve}

The Beguiled

You and your brother are reunited with old friends, one preparing for his upcoming nuptials and the other now a king. Your kind friend Steve has now been replaced by a man with a seemingly harmless infatuation, but when has the desires of a king ever been harmless? {king!Steve}

I II III

Love and War

Even the love of a goddess is no match for a god’s envy. {mythology au}

Unhappily Married

➥ Where you struggle to accept your fate

➥ Where the baby finally arrives

➥ Character POV

Daddy Dearest

➥ Where you struggle to accept your new reality

➥ Where you’re pregnant

Cruel Intentions

➥ Where Nakia comes to visit

➥ Character POV

The 10th Commandment

➥ Where Steve learns the truth

➥ Hypothetical dark!Steve {not canon}

Claimed

➥ Where the reader makes peace with her situation

She’s With Me

➥ If Steve had stopped her escape

Stranger Beside Me

➥ The Aftermath

#Steve Rogers #dark!steve rogers

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uncpanda · 3 years

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The Ties that Bind: Mayhem

AN: This is the after math of Mayhem. From Season 4 episode 1 I believe. In which we get a lot of reader and Aaron friendship!

Master List

You’re woken up by the sound of knocking on your door. It’s the middle of the night, and you were dead asleep. The key word being were. If someone isn’t dying on the other side of that door, you’ll make it so that they are. You check the peephole, and your brow furrows, before you open it.

You glare at your best friend, “Are you dying?”

Aaron stares at you for a second, “I almost got blown up, does that count?”

You blink a few times, and try to knock the sleep out of your system. That’s when you see the cuts and bruises. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I may lose the hearing in my right ear.”

Your mouth drops open, and you pull him inside, and start looking him over. Other than what you see, there doesn’t seem to be any major damage.

“Satisfied?”

“There doesn’t seem to be a lot of physical damage. What about psychological?” He hesitates, “Aaron?”

He sighs, “I lost a friend. Her name was Kate. She died in the explosion.”

The hug happens without thought. You just wrap your arms around him and hold him close. He returns it immediately, almost desperately. Aaron is touch starved. You’ve known it for a while, and he’d goten comfortable with your hugs, and snuggles over the past two years.

When you pull back, you help him shuck his jacket and tie, and then his shoes before pulling him to the couch. You know he doesn’t want to talk yet, so you settle down and tug him towards you so that his head lands in your lap. His eyes close as you run your fingers through his hair, and sort of massage the scalp. You move down to his neck and shoulders where he twists his body to give you better access. He has knots upon knots from all the stress.

Eventually, his breathing evens out, and you know he’s asleep. You don’t try to move, you just make yourself as comfortable as you can, and eventually you fall asleep too. You wake up to Aaron moving around your apartment. There’s a blanket covering you.

You squint, and then you realize he’s pretty much naked, or at least, you’re assuming he’s naked under one of your blue towels. He’s looking at something on his phone and hovering over his go bag. You take a moment to stare. He’s lightly muscled, but not overly so. There are a few cuts and bruises. He’s also somewhat skinny. You need to feed him more.

“Like what you see?”

You can feel your cheeks heat up, and beat it down with a mental bat as Aaron turns to face you. You put on a false bravado, “How in the world did that explosion make you even more cocky? I didn’t think that was possible. I’m wondering why you’re standing in the middle of my living room in only a towel.”

“I woke up and I felt like I was still covered in gravel, and dirt. So I used your shower, and forgot my go bag out here.”

You toss the blanket aside, stand up, and stretch, “Great. Now I feel like I need a shower.”

“Sorry.”

“And a new couch!”

“Send me the bill.”

You laugh, take one more look at him in the towel and head back to take a shower of your own. Once you’re done, and dressed in fresh lounge clothes, you head back out to find Aaron in sweatpants and a tee-shirt. It’s strangely domestic. He slides you a plate of food, and you take it eagerly. You’re not even surprised when it tastes delicious. Is there anything this man can’t do?

The two of you eat in silence and it’s as you do the dishes you ask, “How are you doing?”

He shrugs, “I called my therapist on the car ride home and scheduled an emergency appointment along with one at an ENT. Both appointments are tomorrow.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He hesitates for a second, “I probably should, but I don’t want to.”

“We could watch movies?”

He smiles at you, one that says thank you for not pushing me, “Sounds good.”

“Do we want to laugh, cry, or watch things explode?”

Aaron follows you back to the couch, “I don’t think anything loud or with explosions is a good idea.”

“Yeah. You lived the real life thing.” He stares at you for a second and you wince, “Too soon. Sorry. How about something historical but dramatized and in no way truly reflects actual history?”

“Sounds perfect.”

You settle down on the couch with him, and it isn’t long before a weigh settles against your shoulder. You look to the side and see Aaron fast asleep, with soft snores coming out of his mouth. You shift, and adjust so that his head settles in your lap, but you can still see how tense his body is. You run your fingers through his hair, and massage his scalp. You move down to his neck, and when he lets out a moan in his sleep you can fill the heat beat at your cheeks.

You scowl, because that was the second time he’d brought out that response in you today. You keep going until the knot of tension releases and then you just absentmindedly stroke the skin there.

“That feels nice?”

Aaron’s gravely voice takes your attention away from the nearly finished movie, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You should do this for a living.”

“Professional cuddler?”

He huffs, and you roll your eyes, “I’ll stick with teaching. By the way, I have a bunch of multiple choice tests to grade. You want to help?”

He snorts at that, “I have enough paper work in my own job, thanks.”

“Spencer helps!”

“Spencer can read 20,000 words a minute.”

You get up and his head drops onto the cushion. You can feel his eyes on you as you put in another DVD and grab the tests that need to be graded. You settle at the coffee table and start grading. Every once in a while you feel Aaron look over your shoulder at the test. You can tell he’s studying the questions, probably answering the questions in his head.

You’re in between movies when his hand settles on your arm. You look at him and you can see it in his eyes: He’s ready to talk. You wait.

“Kate was a friend. I met her when I was consulting with Scotland Yard on a case. We liked the same soccer team, we were both work-a-holics, and we just sort of clicked. We were just friends, nothing else. We were both married at the time. When she and her wife divorced, she took a job with the bureau. Anytime I was in New York we’d meet up for a drink, and talk. We weren’t best friends, but we were friends. She didn’t deserve to die that way.”

You move to grip his hand, because you can tell from Aaron’s face that it was bad. And you’re so grateful that it wasn’t him and that fills you with guilt. You sit there in silence before he moves to put in a new movie.

You spend the rest of the day like that until Aaron gets a call from Haley. You listen as he reassures her that he’s okay, and then asks if he can go over and see Jack. There’s a look of relief on his face when she says yes.

You grin as he grabs his bag and goes to get changed. When he’s done he leans down next to you, “Thank you for today.”

“Any time. Let me know how your doctor's appointments go.”

“I will. Promise.”

As he reaches the door, you call out, “And remember a towel isn’t proper attire for a doctor’s office.”

He rolls his eyes, tosses out a, “Smart Ass.” and heads out the door. You smile as he goes, glad that you could help even a little bit.

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eunoiaflow3r · 4 years

Text

not ur friend

spencer reid x reader

aaron hotchner x reader

part two - part three

a/n: haven’t written for spence in a while lol. hope you guys like it. wow...and i wrote him as an ass. bahahaha what am i going through i’m so sorry.

warning(s): language. angst. not proofread. will be mistakes.

word count: 1.8k

request(ed): no.

summary: y/n overhears something she shouldn’t have. this conversation alters her relationship.

not ur friend by jeremy zucker.

———————-——————&————————————

Hang up, if you ever think of calling me up. Not afraid to say it, darling.

3 days.

It’s been an entire weekend of you ignoring Spencer and his ever intruding phone calls. This wouldn’t have been a big deal except for the fact that this felt like a breakup. Your head and heart was treating this like you were in a relationship and he made it painfully clear that you weren’t.

It was quiet in your apartment. The television was off, the radio was silent, the heater had paused and even the refrigerator wasn’t making the usual silent buzz noise it made. The deafness of it all allowed the conversation you heard friday night play over and over again through your ached head.

Friday 11:37 pm.

“So Reid...” you picked up your phone when it rang and read Spencer’s name across the screen. It wasn’t like him to call so late but you picked up anyway. When it was a muffled Morgan’s voice you heard instead of Spencer’s you realized he hadn’t even meant to call you at all.

“How’s your girlfriend?”

You just knew all eyes were on him. Spencer Reid was very private about his social life. It was rare he even told you about anything he’d been up to. He just wasn’t one for small talk. The fact that you just knew they were talking about you made you press your phone harder into your ear even though you weren’t even sure you should have been listening.

“Oh y/n? Yeah she’s definitely not my girlfriend.”

This stung. There wasn’t even a label or anything that you guys put on it, but usually when Spencer would talk about his romantic relationships he’d get nervous and stuttery and try to change the subject. Spencer’s voice was clear and steady. Zero hints of nervousness and bashfulness. He was serious.

“Really?” This was Emily now, you could recognize her voice. “You guys seem like pretty close friends if you know what I mean.” Her tone was laced with humor but Spencer’s was far from joking.

“No. I wouldn’t call us friends either. She’s just someone I visit. Like y’know...how you would a grandmother.”

A grandmother? He compared you to a grandmother? He said visiting you was like visiting a grandmother?? You could feel the tears in your eyes. You really thought Spencer was a good guy. Why would he say something so rude? Something so hurtful about the person he was sleeping with.

It wasn’t a friends with benefits. You guys had agreed on that, but you weren’t dating either. You had met him at a museum and ever since then you two had behaved as if a couple would. The only difference was that you weren’t public. You weren’t posting pictures, or gushing over how cute you thought your “boyfriend” was to your friends. And you were fine with that. Labels are constricting. You were glad not to have them except when he decided to say he barely knew you at all and compared you to a grandmother.

“Damn.” Morgan sounded impressed. “Does she know that?”

“Maybe.” Spencer paused. “There’s nothing really romantic about our relationship. To be honest, she can be a bit needy at times and it’s suffocating.”

He paused again.

“I’m actually thinking of breaking things off. She wants more and I just don’t like her that way.”

Sorry, I'm not sorry if it hurts. I don’t mean to make it worse.

This is where you hung up. Your tears never stopped flowing. How dare he? How dare he say you were needy and suffocating? You rarely asked him for anything, and didn’t bother him with things at all. You knew he was a busy person. A busy and hardworking person. You never tried to ask him for more than he was willing to give. Ever. It hurt your heart to think he was playing you the whole time.

It hurt to think that all the “I adore you’s” and “I think I’m in love with you’s” were all fake. You were pretty sure with the way things were headed that you and Spencer would have much more than just a relationship. Much more than sex and cuddles. But a meaning - an understanding.

Spencer was your comfort. Your safe place. The person you’d go to if you were hurting, or in trouble. You were his. Countless times he came to your house and cried to you about the stress from his job. He’d hold you and tell you all about his day and what more he wished he could have done.

You’d buy him his favorite food and he’d cuddle you to sleep only to wake you up in the morning with kisses and great morning sex. To hear all of that meant basically nothing to him tore your heart to pieces.

It made you want to throw up. Had you wasted your time? Had he felt this way the entire time and you just never noticed because you hoped he felt the same? Were there signs that you missed? Something you could have done to prevent yourself from falling this hard for someone who didn’t care?

But you thought he cared.

Spencer was the most caring, empathetic person you’d ever met in your life. He was so understanding in a way no one could ever get.

I've decided that I'm not your fucking friend.

This is why you thought that maybe this is why he tried to hide you. Maybe he just was afraid of his friends not liking you, or afraid of someone from where he worked would try to hurt you. You prayed this was the case. You hoped and cried that this was the reason he’d ever let those words leave his mouth.

The reason you couldn’t believe this though is something understandable.

He had never, ever, called you anything other than his friend, and never wanted to go out.

He told you it was because he was protecting you, but he never wanted to even meet your friends. And when you talked about a guy or introduced him to one, he’d get upset and say something like, “Yeah well he seems perfect for you anyway. Not like we’re a thing - do what you want.”

And your brain tried to rationalize this as protection. The more you thought about it the more the other part of your brain screamed manipulation. You tried to ignore it but is that what was happening? Had he been manipulating you the entire time and you just never knew it?

If he was protecting you he wouldn’t call you needy. He wouldn’t not even bother to look at your friends. He wouldn’t feel the need to hide you from the entire world and lie about it in such a - douchebag way.

This hurt you though. His team can call out a liar faster than anyone and they would have said something if they thought he was lying. They would have defended you. The wouldn’t have egged him away and joked about you like you were some embarrassing one night stand.

You expected respect and decency and got dishonesty and asshole attitudes instead.

After the weekend of pitying yourself you realized you needed to stop. This wasn’t your fault. He has issues of his own. Issues he needs to work out and come to terms with on his own. Why should you feel anything for a man trying to hide you? Lying to you? Lying to his friends ABOUT you. Reassuring yourself helped but didn’t help the ache in your heart.

Were you ready for this? Were you ready to throw it all away? After all it could just be a misunderstanding. A misinterpretation. It could be your fault. Maybe you were clingy.

No.

No. Absolutely not. You weren’t going to try to defend his actions.

Right now, there's not much that we agree on. Sit down, if you need someone to lean on.

You called him.

“Hello?” he answered right away. “Where have you been are you okay? I was gonna come over and check.”

“Don’t come over.” You cleared your throat and blinked away tears.

“Then please come to mine. I have to talk to you, I missed you.”

He still has no idea. He doesn’t have a clue what you overheard on the phone. All the pieces of the puzzle you put together. All that you’ve realized in the past 3 days.

You rolled your eyes. Any other day you’d think his obliviousness was adorable but right now it only made you want to punch him in his stomach for lying to you and wasting your time.

“I’ll be over to give you your things.”

And you hung up.

That was so hard for you to do and you had hot wet tears running down your face to prove it. No matter how many times you tried to brush them away they just kept on going down.

Fuck him.

A shower and a change of clothes later you were finally ready to see him.

Honest, if I'm coming to your place, it's to say it to your face...

In your car you tried to talk yourself out of it. You told yourself to just forget the phone call over happened and just go back to the way things were. At least you here happy then...at least...sort of. You were okay. You were happy with him. The time you spent with him was enjoyable but you were tired of being his therapist. You were tired of being his dirty mistress. You didn’t want to be lied to or lied about. You were over it.

When you got there he rushed you in the house and looked down at you confusingly.

You had never been inside his place. The only time you were ever really here was when you were inside waiting in the car so that he could change his shirt.

“I thought you were coming tomorrow?”

“I came now to give you your things.”

“JJ will be here soon, you should probably leave. Why did you bring this stuff?”

“They’re yours. They shouldn’t be at my place.”

He looked confused but took the box from your hands anyway.

“I’m leaving.” You simply said and turned towards the door. The sooner you were out the better.

“Can I at least have a kiss?” Spencer asked in the cute voice he knew you liked.

You closed your eyes. “Sorry Reid, but no. I don’t want to seem needy or suffocating, ya’know? Makes it easier to break things off.”

Color drained from his face as he realized what you were talking about. He couldn’t even come up with an excuse other than a - “No, baby I -“

You put your palm in the air facing him telling him to stop.

“It’s okay. I was just someone you visited...like a grandmother. You shouldn’t miss me too much. We’re not even friends, right?”

You walked out of the house.

You walked out on him. Your heart was beating out of your chest. He was always the one to leave. He was always the one to say goodbye.

I've decided that I'm not your fucking friend.

—————————————-#————————————

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