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buckyscrystalqueen · 2 years

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Forever

Pairings: Syverson x OFC (Adele), Sy x OFC

Warnings: Fluff. Just pure fluff

Word Count: 1,356

A/N; So I wrote this story for a creative writing college class. I was listing to my country music playlist while I was thinking about what to write and “Traveling Soldier” by The (Dixie) Chicks came on and this story just popped into my head. So after 8 weeks of critiques, editing, rewriting, and all but pulling my hair out, here it is. @just-chirpin I told you I would tag you when I finally posted this. Class is over and I got an A on this so I am super proud of this!

~~~~~~~~~

Fear. It was a feeling that felt so foreign to Army Captain Jack Syverson but as he sat in the Charlotte airport, impatiently tapping his foot while waiting for his final connecting flight to Savannah, Georgia, it was the only feeling that he was aware of. A gold ring felt like lead in the pocket of his dark blue jeans. The light grey Henley he had on over his muscular chest and arms felt a half size too small. He wondered if she would even recognize him after eight years.

Without thinking he nervously scratched at the short, thick brown beard on his chin before his hand moved up and brushed across the buzz cut he had done after washing years of sand and bad memories off in the shower. The smooth textures beneath his fingertips changed as his hand moved down to the brace on his knee to adjust it subconsciously. He resisted reaching into his tour stained desert brown backpack to pull out the stack of letters he had long since memorized; the ink was starting to fade and the pages had become fragile along the creases from folding and unfolding them, he didn’t want to risk them falling apart like her very first letter had. Those two pages were safely tucked in their envelope, taped together as carefully as his thick fingers could possibly manage.

“Now boarding flight 1721 to Dallas/ Fort Worth at gate D5.” Sy glanced up at his gate number, D2, at the mention of his hometown airport and the fleeting thought of if he was doing the right thing crossed his mind. When he had booked his flight, the only thing he could think about was the gorgeous smile of the stranger he had been writing to for years. The young girl with a bow in her hair didn’t know him from Adam when he sat down in her section at Clary’s Cafe in Savannah the day before he shipped out to California for boot camp. A tour book had recommended the quaint landmark where he was oblivious to the Formica tables and historic prints on the walls and enthralled by his waitress instead.

Her sparkling brown eyes were forever burned in his memory when she agreed to him writing to her while he was deployed. Her French braided, waist length, light brown hair swished freely across her tanned back as she casually led him through the historic squares of her hometown. Etched in his mind forever was the cute, purple with white polka dots bandana wrapped around her head in an impossible attempt to keep the tiny fly aways that framed her face tamed. It was tied in a bow just above her left eye, complimenting her vibrant eye color. The memory of her smile was what kept him going in the desert though. He was forever grateful that he allowed an extra day in Savannah before the last leg of his bus trip to Fort Bragg in North Carolina.

Sy saw that smile every night in his dreams and recalled it during tough times when he sent a fallen or injured soldier home. His thoughts would drift to it during chow, and he could picture it across her pretty face when he would read the detailed letters she sent twice a month. He reread these same letters whenever he needed a pick-me-up when the war got to be just too much for even him to handle. He had long ago memorized the line she had written, “I was never lonely on my walks through the squares until you left,” until it was ingrained on his soul.

Her smile was the reason he got through officers training. Her freedom was what he was fighting for. That is, it was what he was fighting for until he blew out his left knee breaking up a fight between two blow hard privates that let the desert heat get to their heads. The weeks he spent in the hospital were something he had zero intention of mentioning to her. She had worried enough about him these past eight years to bother her with something so trivial. In his last letter to her he had casually lied and said he was going home to Decatur, Texas in two weeks instead of admitting he was going to surprise her in Savannah.

There went that fear again. Fear that she wouldn’t recognize him when he sat down in what hopefully was still her section at Clary’s. Fear that if it wasn’t, that she would be walking the same route through the squares every Sunday morning like she used to. Fear that he would never be able to find the pen pal that he had fallen in love with. He recalled her comment in a later letter that she “feared the instant connection they had shared many years ago would be gone”, which only added to his anxiety. He hoped to get his feelings in check before his last connecting flight from Charlotte to Savannah.

Sy’s hands made another pass through his beard, over his head, before scrubbing his tired blue eyes that were most likely blood shot from the sleep he had lost worrying about this trip he was making. The trip where he would finally come face to face with the woman that he loved and yearned to hold. The woman who referred to their one and only day together as the best day she had ever had. In her letters she had claimed she felt like she had always known him.

“Final boarding call for flight 1721 to Dallas/ Fort Worth at gate D5.”

“Wait! Please wait!” a woman cried, catching Sy’s attention. He looked to his right to watch her sprinting through the crowded Charlotte terminal, her long, curly brown hair tied up in a loose bun on the top of her head, and a purple with white polka dot bandana tied as a headband at the front, trying to keep those little fly aways back.

“Adele?” he asked himself as he carefully stood up and grabbed the strap of his backpack. His heart pounding, he limped as fast as he could as she breezed past, dodging an elderly couple that were walking just a bit too slow. “Adele!” She came to a screeching halt, her black Converse sneakers squeaking loudly on the white linoleum floor. She found him instantly in the crowd and all the fears he had been stressing over simply melted away.

“Sy?” she breathed, but they both knew what she was questioning. How was the scrawny boy she met in Savannah now the six foot one, muscular man before her? With the slightest bob of his head in confirmation, she bolted back into his direction and took a flying leap of faith into his arms.

“You’re here,” she whispered with tears in her eyes as they clung tightly together, shocked to find each other in the chaos of Charlotte’s connecting flights.

“I love you,” was the only thing he could say as he gently leaned back to see her gorgeous smile. He searched her tear-filled eyes as he carefully set her down on the ground and reached into his pocket for the ring that now felt like a brick. “And I will never leave you again. Will you…”

“Yes,” she gasped with a violent nod of her head as she wiped the tears from her eyes as quickly as she could. “I love you, too. I have for years…”

“Me too,” he replied as he slid the band onto her finger. She caressed his scruff covered cheek in her small hand and confirmed her feelings with a gentle kiss. The sights and sounds around them slipped away as they held on to their whole world in that moment.

“Come home with me.” She whispered when she pulled away to search the sweet blue eyes that she had seen nightly in her dreams. “Please tell me you are coming home. I can’t bear another minute…”

“I’m coming home.” He confirmed with a smile that made her feel whole again. “I’m coming home with you forever.”

#syverson x ofc #Sy x OFC #syverson fic #captain syverson #Forever #sy

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deathfavor · 6 months

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@yeonban said: "just stay like that and let me admire how beautiful you are." It's half a teasing order, considering the hands that continue to roam all over Seiroku's body even after Soma's paused his previous endeavor, as well as half an unadulterated desire to take in everything Seiroku is presently gracing him with before continuing - from every insignificant detail of his body, to the pose he's holding, to the sounds and movements now forever ingrained in his memory.

A breathless laugh gently finds its way past his lips as lithe limbs lay amongst rich fabric. His skin glistens in the dim lantern light, reflecting in the dip of his collarbone. Stray strands of midnight hair stick to his cheeks, alongside his throat and shoulders while vibrant blue gaze up at Soma above him. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels fingertips glide over his sides, coming to rest upon his hips when the order is granted to him.

" You say that as if I have a choice. " Seiroku teases back, lips drawing into a relaxed smile ( if a bit playfully scheming. ) In truth, he probably could change it if he so desired. He is a strategist after all, and should he wish to turn the tables, there is no doubt he could find a moment to enact a playful scheme. Though he also knows well that he need only voice such wants and Soma will grant them. But Seiroku is happy to let Soma have what he wants, to enjoy the teasing orders and power play even if it is for fun. It makes for an interesting dynamic ; to have two people who yearn for the other's enjoyment above their own.

Perhaps that is how it is meant to be. The desire to sate the other that in turn leave both pleased. But for his experience, he cannot say he's ever met someone so intent on his pleasure above their own. Some have cared, some haven't. But those who did was not to this degree. It makes his chest ache with a painful warmth like a welcoming fire after hours left in the cold. No matter how many times Seiroku is reminded of this, it never fails to flood him with warmth. He could almost cry from that alone, not to mention the looks and words that are granted to him too.

" Soma. " The name rolls from his tongue, euphonious and lovingly spoken to draw his beloved's attention towards him. He lifts his chin slightly in an unspoken wish for him to draw closer and give him a kiss. A kiss that he fully sinks into, where he can press his love into the slide of their lips together and his hands move to slide over Soma's shoulders and keep him closer. I love you. Each kiss, each breath, every movement so full of the overwhelming affection. When Seiroku does pull back, it's with a warm smile, lips pressing to his jawline. " You look like you're at a feast ~ " He murmurs playfully; but he enjoys seeing the open desire on Soma's face. He enjoys hearing what Soma craves and wants even if it is as simple as to be admired. ( Even if it causes shades of pink and red to paint over his skin. Such sweet words still never fair to fluster, especially behind closed doors in private intimacy of each other where they ring twice as powerful and true. )

One hand slides down from Soma's back, gently roaming down his shoulder and his arm. He can feel each muscle, trace their curve till he reaches Soma's hand, splayed against his own hip. He shifts one leg, baring himself a bit more to Soma's gaze even with the knowledge that Soma already knows every inch of his skin as it is. It takes nothing away from the playful tease and invitation of the moment, on the contrary, to know what is there might only make the yearning stronger with the promise of what is at hand.

" You can do whatever you'd like, admiring included. " Seiroku murmurs, smiling against Soma's throat. " Although if you choose to only admire the whole time, I might have words. " Sweet, clear laughter chimes in the air with a lighthearted cheeriness to it. Yet it is truth both in this scenario and any other, so great is his love for Soma.

He presses one more kiss to Soma's lips before he relaxes once more, lashes lowered halfway in invitation to the desires. " I'm yours. " A simple statement, a powerful promise.

#yeonban #they always have me in a chokehold #the love is so real #and letting them be playful in these private moments #them both wanting the other to enjoy #but god the genuine compliments always get to seiroku #always gonna have him blushing and shy #despite how he owns how pretty he is #its just DIFFERENT when soma says it !#᛭ — [IC] carcinoma being with a taste for death [SEIROKU INUKAWA]

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saphirered · 3 years

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Saph I hope you feel better! I really liked the VM Snow White you just posted, but could you also please do the same prompt but with M9 boys including Molly? If you’re not feeling up to it that’s fine too!

Thank you! The meds are beginning to do their job luckily. I'm glad you liked the last one. I blinked, my hand slipped and now it's here. Prepare for some angst. Hope you enjoy! 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb had always known his past would come to haunt him. He was prepared for it. Prepared to take the hit, take responsibility for everything and he’d face his past be that with or without the people he loves. Part of him, once he got used to having these fools around, having you around, wanted it to be on his own, to protect them and protect you. To not have any more lives lost in the grand scheme. The people he loves becoming collateral would be unacceptable. But you had become collateral in the grand scheme of things.

When it became clear to his enemies he was a bit more attached to you than the others, they took this weakness and exploited it. They pushed his buttons before, using you as a tool, verbal bait even, but he never fell for it. His reluctancy to act on his feelings, to keep them to himself instead, were the very thing he hoped would keep those loose ends from latching onto you. His love is a curse, the objects of his desire always to be torn away from him no matter how hard he tries to prevent it. He’s lost you to that same curse. Not lost. Almost lost.

You’ve been cursed, your conscious mind separated from your unconscious body. Simple healing spells wouldn’t do the trick here. This curse holds no roots in the divine. He’s spent days researching and that much he could confirm. This curse would take an arcane approach. Something he prides himself in to be his specialty. Lucky you. Lucky him. He had the others bring all books, ancient scrolls and other sources of knowledge brought to him, along with a wide variety of components once he’d made a significant dent in the research matter, assuring him this would have the greatest chances of success.

It’s not the soft canopy bed with the plush pillows from the fairytales you’re placed on. Instead you lay on a wooden table, inscribed with all sorts of arcane sigils. Nor do you look like some angelic peaceful being. Your brow is furrowed in discomfort, your hands balled into fists at your sides. Caleb moves a brush against areas of exposed skin, painting symbols to match with precision and care, afraid to even make a single mistake, triple checking every mark. He speaks the incantations while incorporating the components varying from precious gems crushed and whole, herbs and incense. And then he waits. He doesn’t expect the effects to be immediate, often with these magics it is not and he knows that but that doesn’t get rid of the impatience and fear.

“How I long to hear your voice again. I know this will work but that doesn’t ease away the sliver of doubt. What if… What if… That’s what I keep asking myself. I know it’s stupid.” Caleb wipes an hand over his brow as he pulls up a chair and sits at your side, elbows leaning on the table careful to avoid any sigils just in case.

“It also faced me with the harsh reality that I held off telling you how I feel. It looks so stupid now in hindsight because what good did it do anyone. In the end you still ended up paying for my mistakes. I was stupid to push you away, try to convince you your own feelings were unreciprocated. I know I didn’t have you fooled in the slightest but to know I could have loved you, it makes me feel like I am to blame for wasting that opportunity and possibly shortening our time together. The thought of losing you before having given you my love will forever be my greatest regret.”

Caleb watches the muscle of your hand unclench and relax. He hears a deep intake of breath and staring at your face he’s met with your smile, one filled with love as he helps you sit up. All is good once more.

(Fjord)

Fjord’s drenched to the bone, out of breath, anger running through him like he’s never experienced. Still he’s unsure if his anger is directed at the one responsible for your eternal slumber or at himself for making a ballsy move that didn’t pay off in the slightest and in fact backfired in a worse way he could have ever imagined. He played a game of chicken with Uk’otoa and lost. He’d have been fine by letting someone else pay the price for him. Why should he care about some stranger becoming victim to the leviathan? The one who paid the price, became the victim to his actions didn’t end up being a stranger. It had to be you of all people hadn’t it?

Uk’otoa must have been watching his dreams, even his waking actions if that were possible and have seen his infatuation with you. When the leviathan threatened Fjord in another briny dream of his mentioning your name he had called bullshit. The snake had never been able to reach out to anyone it didn’t already have some kind of grasp on. Little did he know Uk’otoa had just that. Just enough of a sliver through him, and the Cloven Crystal to get to you.

So there Fjord sits at your bedside. You’re just as drenched as he is, hair dripping, skin glowing in the candle light of the room reflected off the water particles. Your lips are tinted blue, a redness around your eyes, your skin is cold. The sleep you’re in is a state of perpetual drowning and Fjord knows what it feels like, to drown. He can only hope you’re spared that pain. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forgive himself if you are tortured like so because of his actions. Clasping your hand between both of his he runs his fingers over your knuckles. He bows his head. It still feels so wrong to not have you respond to his touch. So wrong.

“I want you to know that I am to blame for your fate. I’m about to do a very stupid thing to make it right. I know you’d tell me not to but I can’t sit by and watch you suffer like this. I’ve tried everything. I’ve begged and bargained. I’ve shouted at the skies but I got no reply. Everything comes up empty and I see no other choice than to do this. It might sound stupid but I came to ask for your forgiveness.” Fjord pauses. Usually he would have gotten a reply. He would sell his soul for just having you tell him everything will be alright. It’s a good thing he’s about to sell it for so much more than that. It’s worth it. It’s worth having you alive and well.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness for what I’m about to do because I will never regret it. I ask only you may one day forgive me for what I might become. I need you to know I love you and did, will do all of this out of love. That’s why I hope you’ll never see me again after I give myself to Uk’otoa. I can’t bare to watch that affection in your eyes being replaced by hatred, but most of all disappointment. I hoped to be worthy of your love and I will always regret never having truly experienced it.” Fjord’s voice cracks slightly. He studies your face, as if to ingrain every detail into his memory, as if he thinks he might never see it again.

“I’m afraid. I’m so deadly afraid.” Fjord whimpers pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go. He checks his supplies, taking out the Cloven Crystal, glaring at the orb intensely cursing the thing to oblivion. Coughs pull him out of his staring match with the crystal. Your body moves, leaning over the edge of the bed vomiting up brine. Fjord drops the orb and his belongings running over to you and helping you gather your bearings until you’re no longer chocking on sea water.

“You better not do what I think you’re planning with that orb or so help me Storm Lord, I will drown you myself.” Fjord can’t do anything but laugh despite the very real threat on his life as you pull him into your embrace.

(Caduceus)

Caduceus isn’t bothered by death. Death is part of life as much as living is. It’s inevitable. Every soul will move on, leaving its vessel for the earth, the fire or the wild things to bring forth something new. What does very much bother him are perversions of death, those who try to cheat death, upset the natural balance, maim and manipulate that what is and should be. He hates it with a passion and seeks to rectify it, return the world to that balance when faced with it. That’s where you come in. You much like him have a respect and understanding of life and death similar to his own. Very few people understand that. Very few people do not fear the end when they see it coming. You’re one of those very few people.

You understand Caduceus on a different level, in his sentiment and mannerisms while others may think him strange. Not that he cares if people do, you’ve been his filter in the big shiny new world past the borders of his grove. You’ve been his safety net, his grounding force, his safe haven when the world seems against him and he thinks his senses might be wrong. The Wild Mother must have gently blown her winds to bring you together.

That’s why it seems so wrong you’re affected by this darkness having taken hold over your body, leaving you in a state of not entirely alive nor dead. Resurrection has been futile as much as draining your life and allowing you to move to the care of the Wild Mother herself. You’re trapped and that’s why Caduceus fears what would happen should you die. He’s seen what this perversion of life and death has done to his home, the forests surrounding it and the creatures living in it. He’ll do everything in his power to prevent that from happening to you.

Caduceus has put your body through the typical burial rites and rituals, preserving what he can by using wards and the divine blessings granted to him by his goddess, sending her prayers of your recovery but you appear to be even beyond her reach now. He moves a damp cloth across your arms and face, brushing aside your hair, humming to himself until he’s done, moving on to clean the room around you, getting rid of the dust, placing things back where they belong and replacing the decayed flowers with fresh ones. Caduceus gathers his tea, preparing a cup for himself as he watches you.

“Can you show me how they’re doing?” The wind grows cold. He knew that would be the answer but still he could hope maybe that answer could change.

“Are they in pain?” The wind grows warm but then cold again. You were, but not anymore. It seems that the new wards he’s put up are doing their job. That’s good.

“Is there a cure?” The gentle breeze disappears. She doesn’t know then. This goes even beyond the goddess herself but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Caduceus will keep hope, though it is dwindling fast, for your sake he’ll have hope. He’s always spoken to the dead before and while you’re not really dead, there’s a strange comfort to something that feels so final.

“Hey. I’d ask you how you’re doing but that’s not gonna work now, is it? Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I know you are. You’ve managed to keep me alive with the others for much longer than I’ve been taking care of you like this. I think we’re going to be fine. I know you’re here but I still miss you. Calliope makes for terrible company watching things unfurl between the others. She’s too much of a hopeless romantic. You forgot to tell me the recipe to that special brew of yours. I’ve been trying to recreate it but I haven’t been able to. I think what I’m trying to say is, I could really do with having my best friend back. That’d be nice.”

Caduceus sips his tea, face devoid of his usual dopy smile. A sudden breeze hits through the window, blowing it open. A few lighter weight and loose items go flying but the thud of a heavier one is clear to hear. Caduceus closes the window and feels something solid hit his boot. It’s a crystal from the ones surrounding the grove. He picks it up, feeling the warmth run through it. The breeze directs towards you and he feels himself walking over to your body. The crystal calls to you and when it touches you your body runs with energy, pulsing, like you’ve been forcibly pulled back to this world. You look around eyes wide breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Caduceus smiles. “I made tea.”

(Mollymauk)

Maybe pretending you and him were some high born assholes was a questionable decision. Taking on an invite directed at the said people you were impersonating even more so, and stealing, sorry, borrowing without asking, some things from their summer cottage to swim in luxuries, an out right terrible idea when these people happen to be very well connected.

So when these fancy folk came back to the cottage earlier than expected, the two of you had grabbed what you could before making your grand escape, chased by their private guards until you lost them. A safe distance away you set up camp. Time to inspect your findings before returning to the carnival. Your eye for valuables had always been much more keen than Molly’s and your appraisals usually spot on. It was only natural he would let you do your thing but he’d still help you.

Particularly proud of getting some ornate jewellery box Molly had pried it open and revealed the jackpot. But of course you couldn’t just sell recognisable jewellery as is and you couldn’t keep such a thing on you very long. So of course you went to work, prying the stones from their settings. A particular necklace was giving you trouble, not even your tools being able to pry it out, you even broke one so you left that one for last.

The two of you had argued, eventually setting on just smashing the stone with the pommel of Molly’s scimitar, the broken gem still providing plenty of pay and not being as recognisable in peaces. So you held the necklace across a stone while he smashed it. When it did a spark hit, next thing he knew you were on the ground, your hands burned where you held the precious metal. At first he thought you were simply knocked out but when you didn't wake up he grew worried. Splashing water in your face, shaking you, lifting your legs, nothing got you to wake up so instead he carried you and the jewellery back to the carnival. Two days and still you didn’t wake up. It became clear this bloody gem was cursed when dark veins started crawling up your skin as the days passed.

Since this was technically on him, Molly took care of you. He makes quite a doting nurse when he wants to be but never without an inappropriate comment or two. It was quite strange to not hear you laugh at or scold him for these comments. Nevertheless he’d fluff up the pillow beneath your head, provide you an extra blanket when the night was cold, tell you stories, or simply the events of the day, the people who came to the carnival, some things he lifted from people’s pockets and so on. Molly has to say he’s ashamed to admit he’d got frustrated with your unresponsiveness or rather the fact you still hadn’t woken up and there was nothing the others could do for you. A healer would still be a week or so out.

“You know, while I’ve really begun getting used to these little one-sided conversations and your lack of judgement at some of my more terrible decisions I really prefer sharing them with you in the moment. I’ve gotten caught by the guards twice now and without you, Gustav is getting a bit sick of bailing me out. I miss our little flirtations. I miss your sometimes wrong opinions, though you’d say they’re proven facts. I miss your company. I think our time apart has given me time to reflect how much you truly mean to me and how much I need you in my life.” Molly leans on his elbow as he studies your face unmoving. You look so peaceful and asleep but he’d much rather get lost in your eyes when you’re awake.

“I laughed at you when you told me the most valuable thing in the world anyone could ever give another is their heart but I think I know what that means now. I’ll offer you mine if you will have it. So please, come back and make sure my head doesn’t get up too high into the clouds or I might just float away.” Molly leans back looking at the ceiling of the tent with a sigh. He’s pulled out of his mind by a snicker.

“A dramatic confession of love to the unconscious target of your affections? And you call me cliche.” Molly looks at your face, eyes still closed but smug grin clear on your face. He pokes your side making you jump.

“You are insufferable.”

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb widogast x reader #caleb x reader #fjord x reader #caduceus x reader #mollymauk x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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uwurakax · 4 years

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boy, i need you ♡

pairing: akaashi x reader ♡

genre: angst // cheating // minimal swearing // suggestive (not explicit) ♡

summary: he knew it was wrong, every fibre of his being told him it needed to end with you. so why couldn’t he bring himself to do it? ♡

♡ sequel to ‘boy, i hate you’ - read the first part here ♡

word count: 2k ♡

author’s note: warning, not proofread or anything! wasn’t planning on part 2, but then it was brought up and i thought “hey i can work w a 2nd pt”. reader has no gender mentioned - but again ig default fem if theres vibes here? idk. also have a note at the end so there’s no spoilers here haha. excuse the crappy writing as always - my 2am brain refuses to work at any other time ty for coming to my tedtalk that no one cares about ✌️ ♡

♡ (inspired by f.u by little mix) ♡

unfaithful

/ʌnˈfeɪθfʊl,ʌnˈfeɪθf(ə)l/

adjective

1. engaging in intimate relations with a person other than one’s regular partner in contravention of a previous promise or understanding

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Akaashi couldn’t say exactly why his infidelity started. Honestly there was nothing inherently wrong with your relationship. You were amazing, loyal, kind and everything he could ever want in a partner. He supposed at one point he was like that to you. Not anymore though. He could never be like that ever again. Not when he found comfort in the arms of another. Another that wasn’t you.

Akaashi knew it was wrong. Wholeheartedly he wanted to free you of the unforgivable. Did he take advantage of your sweet behaviour? Deep down inside, he knew he was. The cheap thrill of loving somebody else while you waited patiently for him back at home. Back at the home the both of you had made together. The home that he had inadvertently tainted with the presence of another.

This is the last time.

How many times would he tell himself that? That the momentary pleasure he got from her was just that. That he’d stop before it went too far.

Over a year later was already beyond what was classified as ‘too far’.

He couldn’t kid himself into thinking it was just a brief lapse in judgement anymore. Not when he didn’t stop. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to you in the slightest. How could he do that? To the one he promised to love. The one to always be there for you, care for you. To do everything a good boyfriend should do.

To never, ever be the reason for your tears.

He knew he didn’t have the right to feel this way. It was selfish. Completely and utterly selfish. But when he’d come home and find you there waiting for him, while he was whispering sweet nothings, words that should’ve only been reserved for you, to somebody else just minutes prior, he couldn’t help but feel his heart ache. Akaashi, ever so observant, noticed that you stopped faking your smile. He remembers the first time he saw it.

5 months after his unfaithfulness began, something he swore that’d happen just once, he saw the look on your face. The warm smile you had greeted him with just earlier that morning before he left, was now gone. This smile wasn’t as bright, and the shine didn’t reach your eyes. He didn’t like this smile. It was beautiful of course, because it was from you, but he didn’t like how fake it was. You had given him some half-assed excuse.

“I’m just a little tired Keiji”

He knew you too well. Knew you were lying to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to press on further. Day after day, your smile continued to drop. Further and further, until it was some terrible imitation of the one he had fallen in love with years ago. No matter how much you tried to hide it, he would always notice the slight redness in the whites of your eyes. Dark and puffy under-eyes that you tried desperately to conceal. The tone of your voice, no longer lively and cheerful. He supposed after a year, you just didn’t want to pretend to be okay anymore.

This will be the last time.

He’d break it off with you. His silent promises to spare you from anymore pain. The guilt ate away at him, feeling the nausea rise in his stomach. You deserved someone better than him, someone who would treat you the way you should be treated. He used to be that guy. Where did that man go? What happened to him? He supposed he didn’t have the right to be that person anymore.

He was always so tense thinking on what to say to you. On how to finally admit his wrongdoings. Whether you knew of his actions behind your back, finally voicing them out would be the nail in the coffin. The confirmation that he was indeed doing the things that you were suspecting him of. Perhaps thats why you could never ask or actually push forward with it.

Because even if you knew, with great certainty, you could deceive yourself into thinking he was still the boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

Akaashi only received a fleeting moment of peace from his thoughts of you when she was around. He absolutely despised it. It was despicable how he could find a sense of safety in her arms. It should’ve been you, only you. It was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong, and yet he couldn’t help but think it felt right. It was wicked and evil, there was no other way to put it. Her hands. Her kisses. Her touch. All the moments with her made him forget about you, if only for a brief period. The gentle feel and traces of her were like invisible tattoos, covering all the places you had marked, kissed and touched.

It was all just too intoxicating for him. From her silky smooth hair to the softness of her skin. However, when he ran his fingers all over her body, he couldn’t help but think of you. God he was pathetic. So, so badly he knew it was wrong. He already had you, had your love, had everything you had to give. So why would he run for comfort to her, only to end up wishing it was you instead? It didn’t make sense, and he couldn’t understand it at all.

“Keiji, why don’t you stay the night?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry”

“It can’t keep going on like this. You guys should break up. Then you wouldn’t have to keep going back there, and then you can finally stay here with me. Isn’t that what you want?”

No, it wasn’t. It was probably the reason why he’d never stay over with her. Because he always wanted to come home to you. If he didn’t want to stay with her, if he didn’t sleep in the same bed with her, if he didn’t want to hold her hand - everything he wanted to do with you - why did he still do it? Why! Why! Why! It constantly plagued his mind. He was just selfish.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

And so, Akaashi sat in his car, with his grip on the steering wheel, thinking of the words to say. He knew he needed to be delicate, but firm. To the point, but not blunt. ‘This will be the last time’, he says to himself. The last time he thinks of the words to say. The last time he sits in his car contemplating about everything. The last time he has to hurt you. He’ll let you go, let you cry, even let you throw any object in reach to let out your frustrations on him. Just as long as he didn’t have to hurt you anymore. With a shaky breath, he unlocks the car door and steadies himself. He makes his way to house you both shared, hand on the handle as he closes his eyes. It’s time to face the music.

He quietly opens and closes the door behind him, setting his belongings on the dark oak table sat next to the door. He hears you in the kitchen, your feet padding around on the tiled floor. He makes his way there and freezes. You’re slaving away in a large t-shirt and shorts just a bit too big for you. They’re his without a doubt. You hear his shoes clicking against the floor and turn around to face him.

“Welcome home Keiji”

He hated that the gleam in your eyes was gone, and that your lips had to form a smile way too forced. He hated what he had done to you.

“I’m making your favourite, it should be ready in about 10 minutes”

With that, Akaashi loses all composure. He steps forward, his long legs carrying himself towards the stove top, situating himself behind you. He reaches around to turn it off, and moves the pot to the next hotplate. You turn around to question him, only to end up surprised at how close he was. You’re flustered, and he can easily tell how nervous you are at the way your eyes dart at anywhere else but him.

The temperatures rising in your body, and you swear that Akaashi can feel it steaming out of you. He closes the distance quickly, and soon enough your tongues are fighting for dominance against each other. He was in such bliss, it was like your lips were moulded to be with his. In moments like this he could forget. When your touch covered the traces of her. When your taste overwhelmed hers. He wanted you imprinted on him again. But he knew, knew that soon enough, he’d wash it away with his mistress. A continuous cycle of you and her. Disgustingly selfish.

This will be the last time.

The last time he takes your hand. The last time he has the pleasure of kissing you. The last time he undresses you. He takes his time, drinking in your form under the moonlight. Not even the darkness could overshadow your light. He knows you do the same, your eyes focused on him now. You push him forward so he falls back on the plush mattress. Why would he ever think about anyone else? He knew this had to be the last. The last time he’d let his eyes fall over you. He needed to save these moments in his head so he’d never forget.

The last luxury he’d have of you.

So he’d soak it all in, ingrain it forever. He needed to remember it vividly so he could look back. Look back at the idiot he was for ever hurting you in this way. He didn’t deserve you in the slightest. He thought that if he could capture every last detail, it could be the least of his karma. To miss what he took for granted.

How many times had he thought that himself?

And at the end of it all, he’ll just lay there. In the bittersweet afterglow of the love you two had shared. He’ll close his eyes and prepare himself to lose it all. Lose you. You think he’s asleep as he’s so still and his breathing so even. You’ll comb your fingers through his hair, just like you always do, and mumble quietly about your devotion to him.

“I love you, so much Keiji”

You pray he doesn’t hear you, but he does. As clear as day, you whisper confessions of love and admiration for him. He knows he doesn’t deserve it. Not in the slightest, not at all.

But the gentle kiss you place on his lips has him reeling, and his resolve cracks. He can’t do it, because he’s just that selfish. He knows that in the end, it won’t be the last time. He’ll go through it all again. The guilt will eat him alive. The feel of bile on the tip of his tongue no longer phasing him - he’s gotten used to the taste. He’ll break your trust, again and again, and then carelessly attempt to put the pieces back together, just to shatter them more. It’s cruel, he knows this. He wishes you’d just insult him. Cuss him out. Do anything, but show him love over and over. He loves you, he truly does, and he knows how horrific it is to do this to somebody you claim to love. He just wants you to hurt him, tell him what a disgusting asshole he is, how he’s a piece of shit, a waste of space. Any and everything you can think of.

But you don’t.

And while you continue to show him affection, he’ll drown in the abyss of despair that he, himself put him in. Because during these moments he could pretend that you actually loved him. That you didn’t know of his cheating ways. That he wasn’t touching you with the same hands that held someone else.

So tomorrow it’ll all start over, and the cycle will continue. He’ll keep on breaking your heart, and you’ll both pretend to be okay with it. No matter how many times he told himself it would be the last.

He hoped that one day he wouldn’t be such a coward. That he would finally cut the strings that tied you both together and just end it. Akaashi knew it was wrong, but he was just that selfish and hypocritical.

extra: IM SORRY! i know this probably wasn’t the part 2 that was wanted but 🤟😭 i couldn’t help myself! pls give any akaashi merch hugs and kithes 🥺🥺 my friend told me this mad him mad at him (i was going for sad, so im sorry if you get angry 😭) 💕✨ tysm if you read it 💝

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #akaashi angst #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #haikyuu angst #hq angst

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lumosinlove · 4 years

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12/22/20: Day Nine

On the ninth day of Ficmas, Hazel gave to you, Coast To Coast outtakes and....please hold for part ii :)

part ii

No idea where this takes place, sometime in the future, I was just having some fun:

Leo was out with Kasey and Thomas, and Finn and Logan were snug in a booth at their favorite breakfast spot down the street. They didn’t have practice, a rare day off, and they were sharing a dutch baby pancake and an ham, cheese, and chive omelette. Finn’s arm was snug around Logan’s back, it was summer time, and the restaurant had their large doors open to the Gryffindor sidewalk. The sun and breeze were filtering through, making Logan’s skin warm and kissable. He leaned in between bites of pancake and kissed his cheek and his neck while Logan told a story that Finn had heard before but would listen to a thousand more times, just to see that smile on his face.

“And remember Cole was moved up to first line—”

“Remember you told me Cole was passed out to get me alone?”

Logan bit his lip. “Yeah. I remember.” He pressed a hand to Finn’s chest, eyes on his fingers toying with the neck of his t-shirt. “I remember.”

Finn leaned in. “Baby, I didn’t mean…”

“Non, non,” Logan looked up at him. “I’m just glad we can talk about it now. Before, it was just…I both wanted to remember it more than anything and wanted to forget it at the same time.”

Finn pet his fingers through Logan’s hair beneath the bill of his hat at his neck. “Love you.”

That brought the smile back to Logan’s face. He tipped his cheek on Finn’s shoulder, laughing lightly like he couldn’t help it. “Je t’adore.”

“Let me get you naked,” Finn said. “Fucking gorgeous boy.”

Logan rolled his eyes but he looked pleased and flushed as he splayed back on the couch in his t-shirt and shorts, cuffed at the bottom to reveal way more of his thick thighs than Finn could handle in public.

“Please, baby,” Finn said, getting up on his knees and bending to press his palms to Logan’s thighs, feeling the smooth, hard muscle that wrapped them. “What can I do?”

“Whatever you want, mon rouge.”

Finn couldn’t understand that last part, but it didn’t stop him from warming at the words. They were for him, and they were at the end, so probably some sort of pet name. Finn liked those—maybe too much. He just smiled and leaned forward, pushing Logan’s shirt up and kissing each new inch of skin revealed.

“But that’s not what you want, is it?” Logan said, accent clinging to his words as Finn palmed him through his shorts, teeth scraping against his hip bone, and the small fleur-de-lis there, the black ink stark on his tan skin. Finn loved this tattoo. He used to have fantasies, while wishing for Logan, all of which had been very carefully kept faceless—until this tattoo made an appearance and ruined it all—and made him come immediately. It was ingrained in his subconscious as a Logan thing, and kissing it made Finn feel aflame.

“You want what I want,” Logan’s low voice said. He pet a hand through Finn’s hair. “You want to fuck me. You want to come inside me. You want Leo to come home and fuck me, too, so I have both of you, mes garçons—”

Finn looked up at him. “Logan.” Finn pushed himself up to Logan’s mouth, smiling into their kiss. “Little dirty talker, who the fuck knew.” He bit at Logan’s jaw, his neck, relished in the way Logan preened up into it. “You want me to get hard on the ice, every time I hear you cuss someone out?”

Logan laughed breathlessly. “Fuck.”

Finn knew he was picturing it, because now Finn was, too. He cursed as his cock pressed against the zipper of his shorts.

“You want that, Harzy?” Logan whispered to him. “Your cock pushing against your jock, trapped, right there on the bench. Back to the locker room between periods, the three of us,” Logan was panting now, like he was turning himself on, too.

Thanks to the discord for this one:

“What is this noise?” Finn whisper-yelled, smushing his head into his pillow.

“Le grillon,” Logan mumbled sleepily from his place against Leo’s neck.

“Crickets, Fish,” Leo translated. “What the fuck, you don’t know what crickets are?”

“I live in a city. We don’t have bugs.”

“You have cockroaches, are you kidding?” Logan groaned. “Those things are the worst.”

“At least they’re quiet,” Finn grumbled some more, but all Leo caught was, “fucking gree-ons.”

Logan snorted into Leo’s neck, and then they were all laughing, effectively drowning out the sound.

Alternate first “I love you” in NOLA:

Finn smiled, eyes soft. “I love when you do this.”

Leo sent him an amused look. “I’m just cooking, Harz. You two are so funny about that.”

“No, I mean—you like detail. In everything. I mean your focus. Cooking, hockey, yourself…us.”

“Things deserve focus,” Leo gave the skillet a firm toss. “This needs something…”

“Leo,” Finn said softly.

“Hm?” Leo said, eyes on the spice rack.

“I love you.”

Leo’s head snapped away from the rack and the stove to look at Finn, blue eyes fair from the heat and the pale stove light.

The humidity curled his hair, and he was looking at Finn like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. Like he needed to hear it again. And so Finn told him. He’d tell him forever.

“Me and Lo talked about it together,” Finn began. "We wanted to plan this whole thing and—“ Finn laughed. “He’s been bursting to say it and he’s gonna be so fucking mad at me for jumping the gun but…I guess I really wanted to say it, too. I wanted you to know because…I know you hear us say it and…and I just—I love you, too.” He reached out and took the hem of Leo’s shirt between his fingers for a moment before finding the bare skin of his hip. “I love you, Peanut.”

Leo stared until the pan started hissing dangerously and he blinked, hurrying to turn it off. It steamed around them, and then cooled, and Leo planted his hands on the edge of the counter, trying to work around the swell of emotion in his throat. Finn was hovering beside him, no doubt staring at his bowed profile, waiting.

“Leo?” Finn whispered, hand moving to press between his shoulder blades. “Hey, baby, I…It’s okay if—”

Leo gave his head a hard shake, a soft sound escaping his mouth. Finn stopped talking immediately, a heartbeat passed, and then Leo turned right into Finn’s arms and cried.

“Whoa,” Finn laughed a little as Leo ducked to press his nose into Finn’s neck. He wrapped his arm around Leo’s waist, the other against his neck. “I guess I didn’t think you’d be surprised.”

“I’m not surprised,” Leo managed. “I just…I hoped but, like,” his breath hitched and Finn could feel hot tears on his neck. “I’ve hoped before and it didn’t—”

“Baby,” Finn wrapped Leo up tighter. “We said from the very start, didn’t we?”

“Things can change.”

“Not this,” Finn pressed kiss after kiss to his neck.

“I love you, too,” Leo said. “I love you both.”

“Good,” Finn laughed, clearing his throat over the tears building there. He laughed again. “Fuck. Lo’s gonna walk in and—”

“Alors,” Logan’s voice came from the doorway and they both looked up. Logan looked alarmed, probably by the tears. “Quoi…what’s up?” he took a few hurried steps forward, setting his phone on the counter. “What’s wrong, what’s happening?”

Leo and Finn both laughed, pulling apart as Leo wiped his eyes with his hand.

“Mon Nut,” Logan said softly, walking over and pressing against Leo’s waiting side, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Qu’est-ce qui se passe?”

“Finn told me he loved me.”

Logan’s face changed slowly, lips parting. He swiped his thumb once gently over Leo’s cheek bone, then removed it to punch Finn, once, hard in the arm.

“Pourquoi? Harzy. Nous avions un plan. Fish.”

Finn laughed through his tears, and Logan, despite his words, began to smile, too, especially when Leo took his chin in his fingers and turned his head for a long kiss.

“Traître,” Logan mumbled half heartedly into the kiss, hand reaching blindly, maybe to punch Finn again, but Finn caught it and kissed his knuckles instead, then his palm and wrist. He let Logan wrap that hand around his shoulder as Finn glued himself against Leo’s other side, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“I love you, Nut,” Logan mumbled against Leo’s mouth.

“I love you, too,” Leo laughed through fresh tears. “I love you so fucking much.”

Logan smiled, eyes brimmed, and tucked in close against Leo’s chest. Leo held him there, Finn too, in his kitchen, the kitchen he had learned to cook in, come out to his parents in, learned he was up for an NHL draft in. And fell in love in.

#12 days of ficmas 2020 lumosinlove #coast to coast lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #o'knutzy #lumosinlove

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ceratonia-siliqua · 4 years

Note

I saw you were open to prompts and I was wondering if you could write something with Android Peter?? (bonus points if smut is involved) Your writing is so good and I would love to see your take on it!

Thank you for waiting! I hope it delivers!!

Ship: WinterSpider (former Stucky mentioned)

Warnings: Nudity mentioned, some dehumanization due to the nature of androids, and some asshole Steve mentioned (sorry buddy)

“Bucky, come on. Just give it a shot.”

“Tony-”

“You’ve been depressed for months, just take him for a few weeks. If you absolutely hate having him around then you can return him. I just finished designing a maternal instincts chip for Pepper, worst case she’d love to use him as baby practice.”

“Fine, fine. Whatever, what do I need to do?”

Tony beamed like Bucky had been the one begging rather than the other way around. The bastard put a hand on his shoulder as he led him out of the study and into the lab. It wasn’t a long walk, just a quick pop down the hall and a few stairs. The room was not a place he ever went, having heard legends of the absolute horror show it was.

The rumors were on the fucking money but not in the way he had expected.

It was filled with mechanical body parts, shocking realistic ones that left him staring as he tried to put together that they’re entirely creations of tech. He knew Tony built droids, fuck, the whole world did. It was his business. He’d gotten so good at the task in fact that he was facing some news shitstorms given the advancements in AI leading to a genuine conversation in what to do as the creations gained further and further sense of sentience. They’d tried to stop Stark, but when you have enough money to buy out the federal government, not much could be done on that front.

“You’re gonna love him. He’s an absolute sweetheart, in fact, he’s got a heavily modified Gen 4 Sweetheart Build. One of a kind! Even perfected the synthetic curls working on him. Possibly one of the kindest AI’s I’ve ever constructed, little bit of a trickster when he wants to be though, couldn’t let you get away without a bit of a challenge-” Tony continued to go on as he practically shoved Bucky towards a side room.

“Tony, please don’t tell me you made this android specifically for me.” He had been under the impression it was a match Tony had made after the fact, not something with genuine thought put into it.

“Can’t just throw any random personality at you, Bucko! You need a specific set of traits and I am happy to deliver seeing as how nothing like this kiddo is like what we have on the market.”

“Tony, you should have asked first. What if I can’t take care of this-” Machine? Man? How was he supposed to refer to this gift Tony was trying to give him?

“Trust me! You will.”

“Tony.” He stopped just before the closed door leading to the room where this now present anxiety was lurking. “Why are you doing this?”

There are several beats of silence before a word passes through the space. “Bucky… you haven’t been the same since Steve left. I want to help you move on from him. It doesn’t take a super genius to see that he broke your heart.”

It would have been kinder to just have punched him in the gut. Steve had abandoned him. Left him for a woman from his youth after promising a life with him. There had been no reason, no suggestion Steve had been unhappy with him, yet one day he was there and the next there was a note on the coffee table and a gaping hole in his apartment.

“Please, just try. I know you’re still trying to work through this but just try him out for a little while. You deserve to be happy, open yourself up to it. That asshole wins if you stay hung up on him forever.”

He really fucking hates when Tony is right.

Without another word he opens the door without Tony’s permission and steps into the room. The tiny form that lays on the fluffy duvet takes his breath away.

The boy is lithe, so small Bucky is scared for a second that Tony has given him a child. Getting closer though he sees the marks of manhood, more defined muscle, raised cheekbones, a lack of true baby fat anywhere on his body. He couldn’t help but notice the way a set of small, smooth balls peek out from his pressed thighs. Yet to see his face and Bucky was already feeling the tugging connection, a need to know more.

Rounding the bundle, he can’t help but pull a blanket off of one of the random shelves, covering the slip of a thing in front of him. Taking the opportunity to glimpse the face of the android coming home with him, he crouches in front of that seemingly sleeping face.

It takes his breath away. Small noise, delicate cupids bow, wild and frenzied curls framing rosy cheeks. He desperately wanted to see those eyes, wanted to know if they were just as soft as the rest of him.

“His name is Peter. One of the most high end models, he has features not even on the market. He can feel cold, heat, pain, pleasure. Both his throat and anal cavity are outfitted with the most expensive and durable stimulation sleeves we have available. I picked a version that everyone loves, top seller. He’s able to cum if you want him too. Knows how to groom himself but has preferences. I picked… something a little more dependent. He’ll keep you busy. Utter love bug is what he is. He’s had a little bit of ‘on’ time, just enough to calibrate some settings. His list of enjoyment is fairly open, he’s predisposed to certain things but since he’s never experienced anything he’s not sure what he likes quite yet. Gentle, kind hearted, and designed to form deep attachments, he should be perfect.”

He is the opposite of Steve. Not the exact opposite, but it seems Tony worried about hitting too close to home and made something that was unfamiliar enough to be wholly new while still takinging into consideration what he might enjoy. Even size wise, where Steve had been bigger than him, Peter was much smaller and maneuverable. Peter could be a doll in his hands if Bucky wanted, put him in control.

“He’s also the second ever android to be programmed with the ability to form connections of love and feel the full range of emotions available to humans.”

Bucky’s head shot towards the other man. “Tony, that’s illegal.”

The frown on that goatee ridden face shows just how aware of that fact he is. “I know, but only on market versions. If you self construct a droid or personally program and install the coding needed, which most people can’t, then it’s fine. I’m not allowed to sell people love, but I can give it to you for free.”

Already stuck in this deal, already tender for the angelic little thing in front of him, he sighs. “We’re not gonna get in shit for this? He’s not gonna get disassembled if people find out?”

“Most people aren’t even going to know he’s not human. Unless they get really close and study him, no one on the street is going to see him and think he’s anything but a regular young man out with his boyfriend.”

“... Alright Tony, you win. Where do I sign?”

____

Becoming conscious, and aware of that consciousness, it is something humans were unprepared for in their creation of AI. After all, children forget the trauma of being born, but how do you prepare a being that can already understand the complexities of life for the sudden plunge into reality? Really, you don’t.

Peter woke up and for the first time, was aware. His systems were all fine, green lit and all areas functional and ready to go. Yet, he didn’t move. Everything was sounds, shapes, colors, objects, things he knew but that were not familiar. It was something to take in, how do you even begin when there is so much?

There is a pressure between his shoulders, and suddenly he is focused on what it is to feel.

“You seem a little overwhelmed, sugar. Everything okay?”

The voice is smooth, registers as male in his system, compared to things he’s never heard but knew the sound of.

“Yeah… just- trying to get my bearings.” At least speech wasn’t a difficulty. It was not comfortable on his tongue but they were still doable, something he could succeed at even as his vision is too full. He closes his eyes, sighing as the lack of input makes everything feel less chaotic within him.

“Take all the time you need, I’ve got plenty to give.”

“What’s your name?” A basic way of understanding, something so ingrained in his code that it was the easiest thing he’d done so far.

“Bucky, James Buchanan Barnes if you wanna get technical but Bucky is fine.”

“Bucky,” The name rolled across his tongue, smooth and buttery. It was new but old, as if he’d been told the name thousands of times. It felt like an old hat, a detail he would remember even if everything else in his memory failed. “I like it.” Something clicked, a sense of enjoyment, a rush of pleasant feelings across his skin and the delicate, hair thin wires underneath.

That seemed to knock the man into silence. Peter reached out, groping for the being that was with him, showing him kindness despite their lack of previous introductions. Fingers grazing something slightly scratchy, he gasps, eyes flying open on reflex when a light pressure envelopes his wrist.

The man is fuzz but Peter knows enough to know what beauty is and this man must be the very definition of it. Long hair, dark shadows across his upper lip and jaw. Blue, a color he had not realized had a name till he saw it here. He feels warm, a giggle escapes him, something he knows is a sign of his happiness, one he hopes Bucky will share in.

Smiling is a sign, a good one. Something that makes Peter giddy as he flexes his fingers against that same scratchy surface on Bucky’s face.

“What is this?” Scritching away with the tips of his digits.

A chuckles, soothing and filled with a note that rolls slow and low across Peter’s ears. “A beard, you know what that is?”

He looks up the word, searching in his head for an answer until it pops up. “Oh! Yes, I do.”

“Really are new to this, aren’t you?”

His cheeks suddenly feel heated and an odd feeling curls in his belly as he glances away.

“It’s okay darling,” There is a rustling of fabrics and a gentle set of lips pressed to his forehead. A sign of affection, and one Peter knows he loves the second he feels it. “We’ll get you all figured out.”

#ask cera #winterspider #peter parker x bucky barnes #mcu #this is unedited so apologies #also it's a bit short but I wanted to get it out before other things buried it in my wips pile forever!#Anonymous #siliqua writes

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43braincells · 4 years

Text

Dance Like Nobodies Watching

Pairing: Klaus Hargreeves x Reader (Gender Neutral except for feminine adjectives in one sentence at the end) Words: 1.3k Summary: A little Mary Jane with Klaus never hurt anybody, especially with some nice jazz music. A/N: This is my first ever fic I’ve written! I’m not too confident about this but I’ve been wanting to write fanfic for ages. If anybody genuinely enjoys this and wants more just send a request or comment in my askbox! tyty <3

Another night alone in the manor with Klaus Hargreeves wasn’t a rarity as the two of you began spending countless nights together; enchanted by each other in his eccentric room. His family acquired the estate after the passing of his father, but it seemed the only ones who stuck like trapped spirits were the two of you. The beginning of your time spent here was a wonder, exploring the building and finding something new every day. Now, you two could recall everything that surrounded you. Such a large building was ingrained in your minds and the act of tomfoolery around the mansion seemed dull. Your only easy, impulsive decision left was to sit on the floor of Klaus’s floor and share an after hours joint. The two of you were strewn out on the floor-- backs being held up by his bed and shoulders leaning together as if your balance depended on it.

The silence in the air grows to be deafening as the world you once knew to be bustling comes to a stop. All that’s left in this room was the ring of nothingness and both of your steady breaths. It’s as if time froze and the world halted in its tracks.

“It’s so… painfully quiet.” You comment, turning your head towards Klaus. Inches away from him, your view is focused on his face. You can’t but admire his features, eyes softening at the sight of your lover. He takes a deep breath of the blunt;

“I can sing and dance like a little jester.” Klaus jests, jabbing at your side playfully with his elbow. He coughs out a smoke-filled chuckle, lazily offering you a hit of the joint.

“Dancing might be fun, but I have absolutely no clue how to.” You counter, accepting his offer. “Didn’t you say your father taught you how to ballroom dance?”

Klaus’s face turns into a playful scowl as he scoffs, nodding his head. “God, that old bastard… you never know the difference between life... Death… waltz… something or other along those lines. I can barely remember a thing, I killed most of my brain cells when I discovered the wondrous world of dope at the prime age of thirteen.”

“Is that a yes or a no?” You bashfully ask, offering your hand as an invitation. Klaus graciously accepts it, jumping up and pulling you up eagerly with him. You shoot up, squealing in surprise at his strength. For a man with his scrawny stature, it was easy to forget his strength. It’s not as if he spent his childhood training or anything of the sort.

“Ooh! I have an idea!” Klaus squeals, finishing the last drag of your shared joint and tossing it to the side. He runs out of the room, scattering to collect himself as he nearly trips on every other step. Following him is the rambunctious sound of various items around the manor falling, echoing and heightening the chaos following him. In what feels like ages but only took minutes was Klaus arriving back to his room, record player and various falling records occupying his hold. He exhaustedly plops it onto his bed, a grin spreading from ear to ear like a sly cat who caught a mouse.

“Tada!” He announces, throwing his hands in the air and shaking them jazzily. Your thrill is followed by a gasp and a sly grin in return. “I kinda, maybe, hypothetically borrowed it from Luther’s room.”

Klaus scurries to set up the record player, struggling with how. Even to an outside eye, it’s obvious he’s just hitting random parts of it and trying anything that could make it work.

“I think it’s romantic, even with the theft.” You reckoned, picking up the fallen records and collecting them onto the bed. There you could see different classics, lectures, random works you knew nothing of. You stare clueless, picking up a record that you can only assume is jazz. Having barely any knowledge of his brother Luther, this seemed like the safest bet for you two to dance the night away to. In only seconds the room fills with relaxing jazz, setting the tone between you both.

In front of you stands Klaus, high as a kite and a dopey grin remaining on his face. He offers his hand, cocking his brow with soft, sage green eyes beaming at yours. Your hand gently places itself in his, his warm touch sending goosebumps up your arms. He delicately pulls you into a closed position, one hand holding yours and the other placed against your back. He begins leading, swaying his body slowly to the calming music. You follow suit, allowing his lead to move you around the room. With every wobbly step you take, you further lose control of yourself. Your senses tell you that you’re floating six inches above the floor but you clearly see your feet rocking and taking you around the room. All of your senses make you feel like you’re out of your body, making you feel like a floating spirit. You leave all of your trust in Klaus as he leads you around his room to the harmonious music. Your feet trip every step you take, a nervous giggle emerging from your lips as you can clearly tell how high you are. He pulls you away and spins you. Laughing as you clumsily stumble your way with the twirl, Klaus turns the spin into a tight dip. All you can focus on is his face that feels too close yet too far away from yours. With the passion growing in your hearts, you can feel each hot, heavy breath he takes against your face.

Steadily closing in the distance, his lips meet yours with a gentle peck. He pulls you up slowly, replacing the dip with a tender embrace. Both of you seem to be breathless, staring hungrily at one another, seeing who takes the next step. Every second feels like an eternity as your stomach twists into a knot further and further. He was hypnotic and you fell for his charm. Now you’re the one to make a move, adrenaline flooding your body as instead of a peck in return-- your mouth was on his in an open-mouthed kiss. Maybe it was the high of the mary jane or maybe it was the lust and love Klaus filled you with, but you felt like a balloon. Your racing heart was fuel for the fire that left you feeling higher with each kiss. Now your hands were on him, one rushing to grasp his curly head of hair and the other placed flat onto his chest. In a swift movement, Klaus pulls you up and your legs wrap around him for support.

The next thing you felt was your body crashing onto the bed with Klaus atop of you, him breathlessly laughing as he breaks away from your tender kiss. His hands rest above your shoulders, holding his weight up as he stares at you in admiration. The music only seemed like background noise now with you being also transfixed on Klaus. His beauty left you speechless, making you feel like an astounded artist staring at their muse. Your eyes admire every detail you can see; how unkempt he was, how his cheeks flushed bright with love, how his pupils dilated when he looks at you.

“Oh Y/N, you sick temptress, goddess of beauty itself, how can your looks make me fall so easily?” Klaus purrs. He relaxes onto you, moving the hands that supported his body over you to now cusp your face. Warmth floods your cheeks due to his loving and tender touch. He holds you like a delicate doll-- as if you were made of porcelain and any wrong movement could shatter you. His fingers subconsciously stroke your cheeks.

“I can say the same about you, tempter.” You whisper, your body loosening with his touch. If time could stop, this would be the moment you could stay in forever. Klaus laying atop of you, your bodies melting together to form one. The irreplaceable feeling of safety and comfort, knowing you two had a deep bond nothing could break.

#tua fanfic #tua fic #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves #fanfic #tua #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves fic #wtf do i even put for tags #romance #maybe?#idk enjoy fellas

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redschillzone · 4 years

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Mind is a Prison (Hela x Fem!Reader)

(Gif Found Here!)

Pairing: Hela x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k Words

Warnings: Heavy mentions of body insecurities, Personality insecurities, Anxiety mentions, Angst

Summary: Why did Hela get with the reader anyway? She could clearly find someone better. Hela must remind the reader why she wanted her and her alone.

A/N: Not gonna lie, I got 300 words in and fell asleep! But that was a good thing, because I managed to crank this one out no problem after a quick nap. Regardless, I hope you guys enjoy. :) Remember, you’re perfect just the way you are. ❤️

You gave a small hum as you began to feel the sunlight pouring into the large room that belonged to your lovely girlfriend and as you opened your eyes slowly, you let out a small yawn as you spotted the sunrise through the thin, lace like curtains. Slowly sleep began to leave your body and it wasn’t long before all your senses began to kick in; It only took a few moments before you felt arms around your waist and someone's head pressed into your back. Shifting your head back as best you could, you couldn’t help but smile as you noticed the long, dark locks that belonged to Hela. She was still fast asleep and cuddling you, sticking as close as she possibly could to you as if you would suddenly float away as you two slept. It was an adorable sight to see really; This was one of those times where you were allowed to see the softer side of Hela. Most people didn’t see this side, you were certain it was only you at the moment and you honestly didn’t mind being able to hold that little fact above everyone else. Giving a small hum you began to carefully roll over in her arms, watching as she shifted with you and placed her head against your clothed breasts, letting out a content sigh as she remained asleep; She was beautiful to you, truly she was but as you watched her sleep you began to feel a nagging in the back of your head. A voice was talking to you and you knew what it was, you had heard it so many different times before but with each passing day it seemed to be growing louder and louder.

Hela was a very beautiful woman, just about everyone in Asgard would more than likely agree with you on that subject. She had amazing, raven black hair that was always soft like the finest of silks and her sky blue eyes always managed to have you forgetting your words more times then you could remember. She had the most perfect body as well; It was almost as if she was chiseled out of the finest of marble. Every curve and rounded edge on her fit perfectly together as if she was a puzzle and her personality just so happened to be the last piece that completed her. Well, it may have needed some work but to you she was just perfect; She truly did deserve the title of goddess. But you? Well, you didn’t feel like she thought of you that way. Hell, you didn’t even think of yourself in such a way.

You were nowhere near her level of perfection and you knew that; You had ingrained that little fact so far into your mind that almost every day it would pop up to remind you; To say that it was still there and didn’t have any plans on going anywhere. You weren’t the thinnest person around, but you weren’t the thickest person either. You didn’t have the perfect breasts, but they weren’t the worst either. Your stomach wasn’t the flattest, but it wasn’t the roundest either. Your hair didn’t always have the best days and more times than not your eyes were always red and puffy and overall, you felt like you didn’t fit in either the category of perfection or of disgust. And as you laid there, watching Hela sleep you began to tear up as the voice in your head began to scream at you. Why would Hela be with someone like you anyway? For what reason did she keep you around? Was it just because she felt like she had too or because she felt as though it was too much of a burden to let you go? Perhaps you were too much of a burden to her and she just didn’t say a word because it would require so much work to get you out of her life.

Maybe she kept you around because she wanted to boost how those of Asgard looked at her. She was already the princess of Asgard so she had many people that may have looked up to her but perhaps with you beside her she was able to win the other half that may have disliked her. Regardless of the reason, your mind wouldn’t let you sit enough to figure it out as it continued to scream out reasons to you until the screaming was too much and you could feel the tears beginning to well up in your eyes. It was becoming too much and you couldn’t help the small sniffle that escaped you as you moved a hand up to rub at your eyes. This had happened before, too many times to count if you were being honest with yourself but you couldn’t help but tense as you heard a familiar voice speaking up, sleep clearly still laced within it.

“My love..? Are you okay…?” Hela’s tired voice spoke as she let a yawn escape her lips, removing one arm from around you to rub out the sleep that still remained within her eyes.Fuck, you had woken her up with your crying and now you had to come up with some reason as to why your eyes were filled with tears; You were normally quick with your lies whenever this happened so to you it was just another morning where you ended up in tears.

“I.. It was just a nightmare, my queen. I was being torn away from you.. Taken away and thrown away forever..” You told her, sniffling once more as Hela looked into your eyes, a frown appearing on her face as she carefully moved herself up, going and pulling you close to her body this time. You couldn’t help as another round of tears began to form in your eyes as you buried your head into Hela’s chest and sobbed quietly; She must have believed your little lie because she began to rub at your back, her head resting on top of yours as she gave a low hum.

“It was just a nightmare, my love… Nothing can hurt you, I promise.” She whispered to you and you gave a small nod as you continued to sob against her, keeping your arms wrapped tightly around her. If only she knew what was going on deep within the corners of your mind, how the voice had quieted down for but a few moments. You knew that it would come back later on in the day; Strike while you were busy with something, attack you when you were least expecting it. But you could feel it deep in your gut; Today was going to be a horrible day and it may be the day you finally broke.

——————

Training with the other Valkyries was a nightmare; It didn’t seem like you were the only one out of it today. Everyone seemed to be tense, tired even and as you gave a small sigh as you rubbed your eyes, you began to hear the voice once more. It caused you to tense as you stood in one of the many halls, allowing it to start as a low whisper in your head.

Perhaps you were a bad leader and that was why the training for today went so horrible. That they should find someone new to lead them while you stayed in the shadows and out of everyone’s way. While you did have the smarts to plan strategies, perhaps you lacked in the actual fighting of things, the leadership of the role you played. Perhaps you didn’t have the right skills to ride the backs of the pegasus like the other Valkyries. Perhaps you didn’t have what it actually took to lead them and because of that, others had to die under your command.

You could feel your throat constricting as the voice began to scream and yell once more; Your body going and leaning against the wall before you slid your back against it. Your body was shaking and no matter what you did to try and calm yourself it just didn’t seem to work. The voice was winning yet again in your head and you couldn’t do a thing besides just let it scream at you. Let it scream those scenarios, let it run through them in so much detail that you began to believe them as the tears began to run down your face. You were grateful that you chose this hallway, nobody ever came down it and when they did, you were always long gone by then. You pulled your legs close to your chest as you pressed your head into your knees, allowing a few sobs to escape your body.

Everything was shattering around you; You could feel the grasp you had on everything beginning to slip through your fingers as though they had all turned to liquid and you had tried to catch them once more with your hands. Nothing you did was going to work; Nothing was going to silence the voice in your head. You had tried all the options long ago and here you were, still having that voice tell you all the things you didn’t want to hear; Yet you still believed it. Well, there may have been one option you had yet to try; She may be able to help you but the moment you thought of said option that little voice took that idea and spat out some rather dark things that made you flinch at the idea. She would laugh at you for starters, say just how weak you are to allow such a thing to happen. She would break up with you on the spot, say that she never truly loved you and probably leave you out like a lost puppy; She would probably leave you to suffer alone.

You were full on crying at this point as you tightened your hold on your legs; You couldn’t let that happen. As much as your brain tried to tell you she didn’t love you as much as you loved her, all you could think about was her. You loved her to the Nine Realms and back, you would do anything she had asked of you in a heartbeat if it meant keeping her happy. She was what kept you grounded during these moments, even as your brain came up with such things. But as your mind had told you, as that little voice said; You were nothing. You had no redeeming qualities that would give her enough reason to keep you around and it was beginning to tear you apart.

You lifted your head as you heard walking coming from the other end of the hall and quickly got to your feet before you took off towards the garden. You needed to distract your mind, to try and get that voice in your head to quiet down.

——————

Hela sighed quietly as she closed the seventh book of the evening and took a glance around the library. She could feel something was off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. You had acted rather strangely this morning in bed and she felt as though you were having more of a nightmare, but she didn’t dare push you to tell her. That was how she did things; If you didn’t feel comfortable telling her those things she wasn’t going to push and pry to get you to tell them to her. She gave a small hum as she tapped her nails against the wooden table, watching it quietly as she allowed her mind to wander to you. You were perfect to her; Her little dove, her morning star, and most importantly her other half. She couldn’t help but smile as she shut her eyes, allowing her to daydream of you.

How your laughter could make anyone laugh, how your smile was so contagious more times than not she couldn’t help but smile with you. She loved how your hair felt between her fingers whenever you allowed her to play with it as you two laid in bed as you talked about your days. How more times than not she had laid her head upon your thighs and watched you as you two had days out in the garden. You looked beautiful to her, you looked as though you had just walked out of a freshly painted painting and came right into her life. You had the most amazing personality to fit those amazing looks; You were shy at times but when you broke out of your shell you became the most outgoing person, always bubbly and making others laugh. You spoke your mind more times then she could count and she loved how you’d pout when things maybe didn’t go your way the first time so you’d try it again. You were just adorable, and Hela loved every bit of you there was. If she could, she would love you all day; She would make a job out of it if she could.

Letting out a breath, she opened her eyes once more as she hummed lowly. She wished to live a happy life with you, to one day marry you and have a small family of your own to take care of. Perhaps she would move away from Asgard, let someone else take the throne if it meant she could live peacefully with you somewhere else. She smiled a bit at the thought of you as a mother; Your child running around with you as you two laughed and played, making flower crowns and bringing Hela into the mix, you all laughing and just enjoying your days. It was a nice daydream, it was a nice future that she wanted for the two of you but if she wanted such a future to happen, she needed to figure out what was going on with you first.

Carefully she stood up and began to put the books back where she found them before she began to make her way through the halls and towards her room. The sun was already setting and dinner had concluded about an hour ago, so you were more than likely there waiting for her to return. Just as she had reached the doors to her room she stopped as she heard your sobbing on the other end and she could all but feel her heart shattering. She hated hearing you cry, it broke her down to pieces and all but turned her dust whenever she saw your shaking form. Quickly she threw the doors open to her room and shut them just as fast, spotting your shaking form on the bed as you sobbed into your hands.

“(Y/N)...” Hela started as she made her way over to you and she noticed how quickly your shoulders tensed up. She made her way over to you in but a few strides and sat beside you on the bed, pulling you close to her as she began to rub at your back.

“My love.. My dove.. What is wrong? What is going on with you, hm..? And be honest with me..” Hela had spoken to you, demanding to know what was wrong and it all but made you sob harder. You had no choice now; You were going to have to tell her what was going on and at this point, you figured it best to do so. The voice was so loud in your head that you could barely hear yourself think.

“I.. Hela, why do you love me? Why do you keep me around..?” You spoke quietly, your voice cracking and it made Hela frown. What were you talking about? “I.. I’m not the prettiest, the smartest, the strongest.. I’m just- I’m boring. There’s nothing to love about me- I don’t get why you love me. Why you keep me as yours.. You could clearly find someone prettier, smarter, stronger..” You sobbed out and Hela couldn’t help but let out a breath as she moved away from you. You blinked lightly as she moved to kneel in front of you, going and taking your hands in hers as she gently rubbed her thumbs over your knuckles; Tears were still running down your face at a fast pace.

“(Y/N). My love. My shining star. My lovely little dove. Never say those words to me again.” She spoke, a serious tone in her voice as you sniffled and watched her carefully.

“I love you because you complete me; You’re my other half. You’re very pretty for starters. Your eyes make any room you walk in light up a thousand times brighter, your laugh and smile are contagious and you’ve brought me to tears with your laughter once before. Your body? Oh your body..” She spoke as she brought your hands up to her lips, flipping them over to gently press kisses to your open palms.

“Your body is amazing.. I love bringing it pleasure, I love bringing you pleasure. I love waking up beside you each morning with your body pressed against mine. You fit perfectly against me. I love resting my head against your thighs whenever we have our picnics out in the garden, they provide me so much comfort and your arms? I love being inside them when we hug or when you just wish to hold me.” She told you, her gaze shifting to yours once more as she watched the tears run down your face.

“I will never grow tired of you, my love. You are the one for me. I have thought many times of what our future together would look like and that thought still swims freely in my mind. You are never too far from my thoughts. I think of you daily, of how much better you make my life. Of how I could never find anyone better than you.” She spoke, going and standing up to gently press a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, (Y/N)... I don’t want anyone else to stand beside me. I want you and only you, my love.. Please do not let such thoughts swarm and darken your mind.. Never speak so lowly of yourself, please. It breaks my heart to see you in such a state..” She told you and all you could do was sob as you lunged forward and hugged her tightly, burying your head into her stomach as she now stood between your legs. She let out a small sigh as she moved one hand to your back, gently rubbing at it as her other hand began to run through your hair, attempting to sooth you out of your current state.

“(Y/N).. I mean what I say. I do not want another woman beside me. I do not want a man beside me, either. I wish for you to stay beside me, to stand by me till the day we die.” She told you and you began to nod a bit as your mind began to clear. The voice in your head began to die out as Hela spoke words of truth to you. You were a fool to allow that voice to control you for so long, to allow it to spit all those lies out to you and allow it to scream those dark thoughts to you. Hela loved you, as to how you had forgotten such a thing you truly didn’t know but she had told you all you wanted to hear; She wanted you and only you, nobody else was to be with her besides you. Sure it was going to take some time to finally rid you of that voice, but Hela seemed certain that she could help you. She would help you regardless of what would happen.

“I.. Fuck Hela, I’m so sorry I just.. My mind goes to this dark place and just.. I’m insecure, heavily insecure..” You told her as you slowly pulled away to look up at her, watching as her facial expressions softened before she joined you on the bed once more. She sat beside you and pulled you close to her, allowing you to rest your head on her shoulder as she spoke once more.

“It’s okay, (Y/N).. We’ll get you through it.. I know we will. But can you promise me something?” She questioned to which you gave a small nod, speaking up as you rubbed at your eyes.

“Yes, Hela?” You responded, watching her once you put your hands back down.

“Promise me that you won’t forget I love you.” She instructed and you let out a small breath and thought it over; It wouldn’t be hard to do now, but possibly in the future you may struggle but if Hela was willing to work with you to get through it, then it would be worth the work.

“I.. I promise, Hela. I promise I won’t forget.” You told her, watching as she smiled and gently pressed her lips to yours, the kiss being slow and gentle. You gladly returned it, moving yourself to sit in her lap as you wrapped your arms around her neck. She gave a small smile as she wrapped her arms around your waist and held you close. She wasn’t going to be letting you go anytime soon and you had no problems with that. She needed to show you just how much she loved you and you alone and she was going to take all night to do it; She was going to love you so damn much until you began to love yourself, even if it did take all of eternity to do it.

#Marvel #Marvel Cinematic Universe #Thor: Ragnarok #Hela #Hela x Reader #Hela x Fem!Reader #Hela x Female!Reader #Angst

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thesvenqueen · 4 years

Text

With All My Love

Rating: MA Pairing: Kristanna (as if it would be anything else)

Also on AO3

Previous Chapters

Notes: So uh, sorry in advance? but also, nearing the end here so yay!!

{Chapter 20}

There are many things that are inevitable: the sun rising in the east, setting in the west, the moon rising among the stars in the night sky, the leaves changing colors as the seasons change, the afternoon rain on a hot summer's day.

Among those there are also other things, such as change. Change, in any aspect, is inevitable. Changing oneself for the better, or worse, change of views on how someone sees an issue or topic, a change of heart. Most notably the most inevitable thing is death, and the looming fact that one only has so much time till one meets it.

At this moment, the most inevitable thing in Anna’s life is the conversation and decision that must come and be made. She knows, feels it in the coming days, that the discussion will no longer be avoided as much as she has tried.

Kristoff can sense it, as though it came in with the cool fall chill that has made its way up the mountain. Anna can see it in his eyes, the tiniest bit of worry she hasn’t seen since her first week staying with him. He holds her closer too, not wanting to let go as though she may slip away and again, Anna is reminded of that first week spent with him. Of how worried and unsure he was if she was real, if she was actually deciding to be with him forever.

Anna had convinced him, swore that she did want to be with him and that had not changed. She wants to be with him, forever or however long the gods would give them. The idea of leaving, of returning to the old life she knew is one Anna does not even give weight to. She refuses to think such things, to ever see herself leaving Kristoff and the life they have built now.

Guilt is cruel however, having tightly taken hold around Anna’s heart.

It weighs heavy now, growing ever more with the passing days after the search of the Southern Isles soldiers and Anna tries so desperately to ignore it and push it away. She pretends it is not keeping her awake at night, the reason why Kristoff finds her staring off into the distance with a sad look in her eyes, why he had found her in near tears when he returned one afternoon.

Anna knows her efforts were in vain, Kristoff not being a stupid man and sensing that something was wrong. She hates that she makes him feel like this, worried once more like he was so long ago. More than anything she wishes she could reassure him, tell him how she feels but she knows how the conversation will end. Fears that the world she has created, one she has so deeply loved these last few months will crumble around her.

It’s after one fitful night of sleep, one agonizing dream that Anna decides she can’t hold it in much more. The details were blurry, from a mix of exhaustion and purely out of not wanting to ever remember such horrid things but the images were there. As she stares at the cabin wall, willing herself to calm down, to try to steady her shaking hand so as to not wake Kristoff, they keep appearing in her mind.

Bodies, bodies lying everywhere in the streets of Arendelle. Southern Isle soldiers pillaging the town she loved, doing horrid things to her people. A few buildings were on fire. There was screaming, panicked villagers running to escape. Anna, within the dream, had been in shock. She had wanted to run, wanted to flee but something pulled her forward, towards the castle and within its walls.

Anna squeezes her eyes shut, trying desperately to forget the recognizable bodies that lied motionless within the castle.

Of Gerda.

Of Elsa.

Of Kristoff.

Then came the voice, one booming and loud echoing around her.

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” It called, screaming at her from all around, “ALL THIS IS BECAUSE OF YOU!”

A cruel trick, a move done by the heavy guilt that sits inside her. A horrid reminder of what potentially could happen to her home.

Anna doesn’t realize she’s begun to cry till she feels the tear fall down her cheek. She feels Kristoff’s arm tighten around her, taking a deep breath behind her before his soft snores start once more.

Even in sleep, he knew she needed him.

Anna rests her still shaking hand against his arm, letting the tears fall as she realizes with an ache in her chest what she will have to do.

~.~

As soon as Anna awakes the next morning, she decides then and there she would make the most of this day. She will push the conversation to that night, wanting to have one last good day with Kristoff. Not wanting to dwell, not wanting to remember their last day as a somber event, she will make it a happy one.

So, she rolls over, smiling as she sees him already up and preparing breakfast for them both. She wills the scene to memory, ingraining as much detail as she can: the way his back muscles move, how he hums as he cooks, the way his hair moves as he turns his head, the way he smiles at her as he sees her awake and watching.

She ignores the hint of worry within his eyes, tries to keep that from becoming apart of the memory.

He places the plates on the table this time, coming over to kneel in front of her, “Morning.” He whispers softly, moving a bit of hair from her face.

“Morning”, she says and she tries desperately to swallow the small lump forming in her throat at just how tender and soft he is with her.

Always with her.

“Sleep ok?”

So tentative, a blessing and a curse. Anna shrugs, not trusting her words.

Kristoff sighs, leaning his head onto his arms that rests on the bed. “Do you want to stay in bed a bit longer?”

“Mmmm...only if you join me.”

He chuckles at that, leaning forward to kiss the tip of her nose, “I think I can manage that.”

Anna smiles at him, eyes already droopy till the sound of her stomach growling with hunger makes them grow wide. “Um, maybe after breakfast?”

Kristoff laughs, standing to fetch their plates.

~.~

It’s well near noon now, Anna lying now on top of Kristoff's chest. Her fingers are busy lightly grazing his skin, drawing random pictures or writing their names. Anna watches her fingers tentatively, not wanting to look at him cause she knows she’ll break.

Knows that the moment she looks into his eyes, she won’t be able to hold it in any longer.

Their morning had been spent in bed, breakfast being a silent affair. Once the plates were away, Kristoff had come back to join her under the sheets, snuggling close together with Anna tucked to his chest.

They had lied there for a moment, Anna content to just listen to the sound of Kristoff’s breathing, the birds chirping far off in the distance. She was nearly lulled to sleep, nearly.

There was a desire, a burning need to have him that started off as a slow itch that soon completely consumed her. The reminder of this potentially being their last day making the desire grow and grow.

She needed him. Now.

She’d chased the pull, kissing Kristoff as she pushed him onto his back, straddling him as he did so. He didn’t deny her, couldn’t as he had told her before, and he’d held onto her hips as she lowered herself onto him with a low groan.

Anna had gone slow at first, rolling her hips slow and deep, taking her time with him. He looked at her in amazement, as he always did, with hooded eyes. His hands had moved down from her hips, finding her cheeks and squeezing them affectionately.

She’d been determined to ride this out, to drag it on for as long as she could. To enjoy what could be the last time but oh, his moans and whispers of her name egged her on.

“Kristoff.” A question, a suggestion.

He’d answered. He took control then, finding her hips once more and helping to quicken her movements. His hips moved with her, Anna finding her release with a cry of his name. He’d followed soon after, running his hands up her back and pulling her to his chest where she lies now.

They hadn’t moved since. Both dozing in and out of consciousness, enjoying the stillness and peace.

Though within Anna’s mind, it was nothing but turmoil.

She needed to speak, needed to say what was on her mind. Tell him what she had to do.

Her heart wouldn’t let her. The idea itself was already causing her heart to break, to ache in pain. No doubt that more was to come, with not just her own heart breaking in the aftermath.

Kristoff is stroking her hair, fingers lightly scraping her scalp as they move. She can hear his heartbeat now, steady and slow beneath her. A sound that she’s come to cherish, a heart that beats for her and only her. One that would soon break with just a few words.

She hates this, hates that she has to do this. That she wants to do this at all.

He’d once said he’d loved her for all she was, big heart and all. Now she is sure he’d hate her for it as much as she does.

Anna takes a shaky breath, fighting the tears and the lump forming in her throat.

Kristoff’s hand stills, resting at the top of her head. Beneath her, Anna hears his heart beat pick up.

He’s worried, scared and she is too. More than he will ever understand.

She isn’t sure when her own hand had stopped drawing along his chest, but she instead moves her arm to wrap tightly around him, burying her face into him.

Still, his heart beat does not slow.

Anna tries to calm her own rapidly beating heart, to stop the tears that were building but she can’t. The words haven’t been said, the decision not even spoken and her heart was already breaking. She wonders if his is too.

“Anna.”

He always says her name so softly, so tender and full of love. This time, this time though there is pain hidden within.

Taking another breath, Anna turns her head to look up at him. The air rushes out of her when he sees his face.

All she sees is pain. Pain and worry written on his face to go with the tears forming in Kristoff’s eyes. It’s then she realizes with a sob that he knows, has most likely known for a while now. She wants to hate how tentative he is, hate the fact that he figured it out without her telling, without saying a word until she was ready to.

She can’t. No matter what she could never, ever hate him.

It kills her, pains her to think he held it in for as long as she had, suffering along with her with the notion of what was to come. The inevitable that was coming for them both.

That he knows what she has to do, knows what has to be done. Knew it was coming as much as Anna had.

Anna sobs again, burying her face into his chest as Kristoff wraps his arms around her tightly, bringing her up so he could bury his face into her hair.

Anna doesn’t try to speak, can’t make herself utter the words that neither of them want to hear.

But it’s not needed, no words spoken as they both hold each other as they cry, accepting what must be done. Accepting the inevitable.

To protect her people, to save them from potential danger, she’d sacrifice the happiness she’d found. Risk the idea of never being able to see the love of her life ever again, just to save a kingdom she was sworn to protect. Give it all up for them even if it left her broken and shattered in the end.

She’d return to Arendelle and set things right.

#kristanna #kristoff #anna #with all my love #jessica writes #im sorry

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theredconversegirl · 5 years

Note

hey there! looking for more fanfictions to read, what would be your favorites right now?

Hey there Anon!

Thank you for stopping by! You’re lucky that I was already preparing a few rec lists, so it was easy (and quick) to put this one together :D

I’m including below a list of a few of my all-time and current favorite fics. Since there are so many lists out there recommending known and famous stories, I’m leaving those out of this post, so we can give some space for underrated fics as well. ;)

In no particular order, here are 15 SasuSaku fics I love very much:

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Give Me A Reason by: Rise of the Blossom / @riseoftheblossom-ff

Things aren’t always what they seem and when Sasuke realizes that, he also realizes he has two choices: fight for her, or give in. [Rated M, complete. High School AU.]

The story is very relatable (to me at least 🙄) and my favorite high school one. There’s a nice character development and a good backstory. I love the interactions and how they seem real. 🙃

P.S.: This hits too close to home lol. The way they start and develop their friendship/relationship is - almost - the same way I did with my hubby.

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Don’t You Wanna Stay by: letmeannoyyoutoday

Seeking help one cold winter night at his old teammate’s place, Sasuke remembers just what Christmas is about. [Rated T - One-Shot Christmas Fic.]

Perfect balance between angst and that feel-good aftertaste. This author’s writing is lovely too. ❤️

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Ever After by: ohwhatsherface / @sun-summoning

Sasuke and Sakura enjoy the married life. And kissing. Especially the kissing. [Rated T, complete. Short Story.]

This is the cutest story ever! You’ll be smiling from ear to ear until the end. Heartwarming and fluffy, full of slices of life (my go-to feel good fic). 🥰

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Celebrity Status by: Einna Fletcher / @backintheslipstream

Sasuke and Sakura’s lives revolve around music, and the craziness that comes with fame. Romance is the last thing they want to deal with. The problem: they can’t seem to stay away from each other. [Rated M, complete. Celebrity AU]

My teen years were surrounded by music and friends’ bands, so this story is special to me ❤️. Here, they are both singers and in different places in their career, and the hate to love development is great. It makes me giddy! 🤩

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Cracks by: thevelvetbunny

Sasuke struggles with life after returning to Konoha, and enters counselling with a certain no-nonsense Hokage. [Rated M, incomplete.🔥]

Although the fic doesn’t have an official end, the story seems wrapped when you finish it. I loved this one very much! The pacing and development is so good!!! It’s like a “what if Sasuke stayed in the village after his first return (no redemption journey)” AU. Here, he rediscovers the friendship with his teammates, he allows himself to feel - slowly but surely ;) - and he opens up, getting the help he truly needs. Itachi is somehow ingrained in his recovery and it’s beautiful. Also, without giving much away, SasuSaku here is 🔥🔥🔥!

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Good Vibrations by: Cinnamunk

With her 25th birthday approaching, her friends pairing off, and her forever crush firmly ensconced in ANBU, Sakura feels decidedly gloomy about her romantic prospects. One Ino-led shopping trip and a mysterious midnight visitor later, things are looking up for our favorite, pink-haired kunoichi. Or are they? SasuSaku. Non-mass AU. Fluff/lemon with some soapy angst/drama. [Rated M, complete.🔥 and there’s a sequel!]

Non-massacre fics are my favorite, and this one is amazing and hilarious! Hold tight, because this story starts in a really good pace. 👀🔥

P.S.: Also, beware of the dreamy and hot 😅 Uchihas.. especially Shisui 😏. I do not take responsibility if you fall a little bit in love with him! 🙄

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Meet the Parents by: JinnySkeans

There are pictures on the walls of a small, loving family and he has the presence of mind to feel unsettled, as though he’s intruding on their happiness just by existing. Still, though, her mother fills his teacup with a smile and her father claps him on the back, and they’re kind and warm and welcoming. Sakura had to have learned it all somewhere. [Rated T, complete.]

This is an all-time favorite because, well, Sasuke meets the Harunos and I don’t see that a lot. It’s also heartwarming and so fun to read! There’s also a good portion of confused and jealous Sasuke, which is always a treat. 🥰

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Arranged by: zunaira ghazal / @zunairaghazal / @zgs1994

Arranged marriage in the twenty-first century might have been uncommon, but not unheard of. “You’re mommy’s special little snowflake, aren’t you?” [Rated M, complete. Modern AU.]

[🛑 UPDATE: Unfortunately this story is no longer available. More details here ]

The arranged marriage trope is a guilty pleasure of mine, and this one was the first one I read, so it holds a special place in my SasuSaku heart 💕. Mikoto is matchmaking as expected, Sasuke has none of that, and Sakura thinks everyone is nuts. This is another fun read! 😌

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Chains by: Boriqua-chan

Sasuke is in chains and Sakura can do as she wishes. [Rated M, complete. Smutfic. 🔥]

Well, the summary says everything… 😏🔥🔥

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he said by: the blanket / @blanket-fictions

Sasuke, Sakura, and all that lies between. “I have never expected anything from you. That would have been the height of all foolishness, and say what you want about me, but I was never that. With you, Sasuke-kun, I only ever hoped.” [Rated T - One-shot.]

This is short, but it’s so, so good! The angst and how Sakura overcomes the hurt and rejection are perfect. I can’t say more without giving away the goods.. go read this, please! 🥺

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Tangible by: twilightdazzle

Sometimes, she feels like she’s invisible and they can’t see her. Like she wasn’t real. And they finally realize she’s there just when they’re about to lose her. [Rated M, complete.]

This story is a storm of emotions, and the writing is so lovely and touching that it’s basically impossible not to tear up a bit.. prepare the kleenex beforehand, my friends! 🥺

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Origins of the New Uchiha by: CertifyyedGoon

When a very pregnant Sakura is kidnapped, Sasuke must journey not only through the obstacles to find her but also his own memories. “How do you know you’re going to find her?” “She’s my wife.” [Rated M, complete. Shinobi AU.]

Another AU that has a different approach around Sasuke’s redemption and return to the village. The story switches between present and past (Sasuke’s memories showing how their relationship evolved). The story is refreshing and brings that whole ANBU Team 7 vibe we all had before canon. 🤩💕

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Miss Independent by: letmeannoyyoutoday

Tsunade once told me that striving to be the best, to be acknowledged, to be renowned, also had a series of disadvantages. But I would have never thought that one of them would send me to Otokagure, serving under the man that once left me on a bench, in the middle of the night, after breaking my heart and killing what was left of my spirit. [Rated M, incomplete. Shinobi AU. 🔥]

Ok, Sakura is a badass, independent, strong, cocky, brilliant woman and kunoichi here - she’s awesome! This story is refreshing, sexy, and funny. Sasuke gets Konoha’s help to structure Oto’s medical care and hospital in a moment where he’s dealing with this unexpected legacy. They have to work together and they annoy the hell of each other in the process. It’s a long but worth the read story, even though it’s - unfortunately - not complete.🥺 Some I-hate-you-but-maybe-I-love-you in the mix.😍🔥

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The Story by: dances.with.sunflowers

Because when they married, he didn’t really know how to be a husband. But she had eternity to teach him. First year married. [Rated T - One-shot.]

A beautiful tale of love and patience, showing the development of their relationship and married life.❤️

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your spellbound heart by: blue-plums (arabesque05) / @blue-plums

there is a new barista at the corner coffeeshop, who always smells faintly of smoke. [Rated M, complete. Coffee Shop/Dragons AU.]

Simple, adorable, and hilarious story. This AU is one of the kind and when you finish the reading, I’m sure you’ll crave more. 😍😁

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If you enjoy these fics as much as I do, let the authors know! 😉

~ Happy reading!

xoxo

#SasuSaku #theredconversegirl recommends #ss fic rec #sasusaku fics #anon ask #ask me things #rec list #Sakura Haruno #Sasuke Uchiha

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sparkandwolf · 4 years

Note

I'm in the mood for something extra mushy and schmoopy so how about some Sterek dancing in the rain? :) ♥ No pressure if you don't like that prompt, though!!

Happiest Year

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale Rating: General Summary: For the first time in their five years of dating, Derek somehow convinced his fiancé to give him the reigns. He had everything scheduled down to the minute, the entire day planned to absolute perfection, with the exception of one tiny little problem.

Rain. Thunder. Lightning. Wind.

So, four problems really because when has Derek ever been lucky enough to have just one thing to go wrong?

____________________

Derek wanted their anniversary to be perfect. Every year, Stiles came up with an elaborate plan to romance the hell out of him, and for the first time in their five years of dating, Derek somehow convinced his fiancé to give him the reigns. He had everything scheduled down to the minute, the entire day planned to absolute perfection, with the exception of one tiny little problem.

Rain. Thunder. Lightning. Wind.

So, four problems really because when has Derek ever been lucky enough to have just one thing to go wrong? He watched from his Camaro as the rain extinguished the circle of candles he had set up in the sand and the wind blew away the tablecloth expertly draped over the wooden table it had taken three people to settle. He slammed his head on the steering wheel, the honk of the horn waking his sleeping partner with a jolt.

“Derek, what--” Stiles gasped as he looked at the beach and surprise flooded through Derek as a bright smile overtook his face. He reached over and squeezed Derek’s thigh with a tight grip, practically bouncing in his seat.

“It’s a disaster, Stiles, you don’t have to prete--” Stiles launched himself over the center console so that he could press his lips against Derek’s. It was uncoordinated and sloppy, but so full of emotion that Derek had to kiss him back with just as much affection. When he pulled away and leaned over to open the door, Derek grabbed at his jacket and pulled him back.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Stiles asked with a pout. Derek gestured outside where the thunder was rumbling, lightning was illuminating the sky, and rain was soaking everything in its path. Stiles seemed unconcerned as he shrugged his shoulders. “You think you’re getting out of this date because of a little water?” Stiles challenged with a scoff. “We’ve been through Hell together, Derek, a little rain won’t kill us.”

“The lightning might,” Derek countered with a raise of his eyebrows.

“There’s only a 0.033% chance of being struck by lightning, Der.” Stiles argued, reaching for the handle again. Derek locked the door before he could exit which earned a glare from Stiles.

“There’s a 0% chance that werewolves are real, too,” Derek retorted. Stiles stuck out his tongue and before Derek could stop him, unlocked the door and ran out into the rain. Derek threw his head back against the seat with a groan before begrudgingly opening his own door and following his fiancé with quick feet.

read the rest on ao3 or under the cut

“You know,” Stiles shouted over the boom of thunder, “this reminds me of our first date.” Derek couldn’t help but laugh as he reached Stiles, attempting to grab his hand to lead him back to the warmth and dryness of the car. Stiles was too fast, though, and maneuvered around the table, placing his palms flat on it in challenge.

Derek rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “You mean the first date that I do not count as our first date?” Derek said with a small smile on his lips.

“If there’s a kiss at the end of it, it’s a date, Derek. Scott said so!” Derek tried to reach over the table to Stiles, but he ran a few feet away toward the water, holding his arms out and throwing his head back as he twirled.

“You were almost dead, Stiles, I hardly think that counts,” Derek shouted through another crash of thunder. Lightning lit up the sky once more and Derek saw every detail of Stiles’ face in a new light, one that he wanted ingrained in his memory forever.

Although he would vehemently deny that day was their first date, he couldn’t deny that was the day he realized he loved Stiles. Just the thought of him being injured enough to need Melissa to nurse him back to life had his heart thumping out of his chest. He remembered that day too clearly. He was done ignoring the feelings he had for Stiles and couldn’t hold himself back from finally kissing Stiles in relief that he was okay.

“If that doesn’t count, then a majority of our dates weren’t real. Which means this is probably only our fifth date,” Stiles retorted, sticking his tongue out as Derek walked over to him. He swiped a hand across his face to get rid of the rainwater, but the smile never left. Derek admired that the most about Stiles; how no matter the circumstance, he would always find a reason to smile, a reason to be happy they were together.

“Well, if we’ve only had five dates, then I guess I can just take that ring off of your finger,” Derek teased as he grabbed onto Stiles’ hand and pulled them flush together. Stiles struggled for a moment, laughter reverberating louder than any thunder could, as he clutched his hand to his chest.

“Over my cold, dead, body, Hale!” He shouted, peering up at Derek through long, soaked eyelashes. Derek felt like the breath was knocked out of his lungs at the sight. Stiles, standing in front of him, so carefree and happy to be celebrating their anniversary, it was too much for Derek. It had been five years and Stiles could still have Derek’s stomach fluttering with just a grin.

“I love you,” Derek said honestly, shaking his head in disbelief. Stiles’ face softened, his face darkening in a blush as he pushed Derek’s hair off of his forehead, smoothing it back with the rain.

“Dance with me,” Stiles requested, stepping far enough away to hold his hands out for Derek to take. Derek furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at the sky hoping that the rain may show signs of stopping. When he looked back down, Stiles was gone. Derek turned abruptly as he heard a very familiar song start playing from the Camaro.

“It was my job to romance you,” Derek said as Stiles approached him and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck. Derek slid his arms around Stiles’ waist, pulling him as close as he possibly could, knowing that it would never be close enough. Stiles looked up at him, that beautiful smile still on his face as they swayed slowly.

“You planned an entire night for me, Derek. I can’t think of a time that you put this much effort into something so…” Stiles trailed off, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of Derek’s neck. “I know you don’t necessarily like celebrating such mundane moments like this.” Before Derek could argue, Stiles tugged at a few strands and shot him a glare.

“Five years is a long time,” Derek said instead, leaning down to place a soft kiss against Stiles’ damp forehead. He rested his own where his lips had brushed and closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of the rain, the ocean, and the comforting scent of Stiles, of home.

“Did you ever think we would get here?” Stiles whispered, barely audible over a crash of the thunder. Derek chuckled and shook his head, sliding a hand up Stiles’ side before cupping his jaw in his hand.

“I hoped we would. I was in love with you for so long, Stiles.” Stiles blushed and tried to look away, but Derek held his face still as the lightning illuminated Stiles’ caramel eyes, so full of love that Derek felt his own prickle with tears. “I know I’ve told you this a million times, but-- Stiles, you were the first person in my life to give me peace, to, to give me everything I ever wanted without asking for anything in return. You’re the most selfless and kind person I’ve ever met and somehow, someway, you love me back.” Derek said with a laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Derek--” Stiles started, but Derek cut him off with another soft press of lips, wet with what Derek couldn’t be sure was rain or his own tears.

“No, you got your chance when you proposed, now it’s my turn,” Derek said with no heat in his voice. Stiles nodded up at him, his own eyes reddening with unshed tears. “When I first met you, I had no idea how important you would be to me. I thought you were just a dumb, incorrigible human who wanted a change of pace and decided running with werewolves was the way to do it.” Stiles laughed and pressed his head into Derek’s shoulder, placing a light kiss on the soaked fabric of Derek’s shirt.

“But then I realized that you’re just loyal, to an almost fault, and you care so much for other people, in an unmatchable way. You have these people in your life and once they’re yours, they’re yours forever. I am grateful every single day that you chose me, that I get to be one of those people. I don’t know that I can ever thank you enough for how happy you make me. I can’t imagine waking up to an empty bed, coming home to a silent house, falling asleep without your open-mouthed snores.”

“Hey, I don’t--!” Derek slid his hand to the back of Stiles’ neck and pushed it back into his shoulder, knowing that if he looked into Stiles’ eyes, he would never be able to finish his declaration. If he couldn’t have the romantic date he had planned, he would at least let Stiles know just how important he was.

“I love you more than anything in the world, Stiles. You changed the way I look at life and shaped my future to something I can’t help but look forward to. So,” Derek took a deep breath, “I know this night isn’t exactly what either of us expected, but isn’t that just what our life is? You threw so many curveballs into my life and provided me with so many surprises that slow dancing in the rain seems inconsequential. But the thing is, no moment with you is insignificant. Every single second spent with you are the best moments of my life.” Derek felt Stiles pull back and watched the tears bubble from his eyes as he peered up at Derek, holding his face so delicately in his hands.

“Who knew Derek Hale was such a sap,” Stiles joked. Derek knew Stiles well enough to know when his jokes masked his emotion and that was one of those times. Derek shook his head and pressed their foreheads together once more, holding onto Stiles like he would fly away in the wind if he were to let go.

“Thank you for the happiest years of my life, Stiles,” Derek finished, gazing into Stiles’ eyes and hoping he could see the sincerity in them. Stiles nodded slowly and for what might have been the first time in their lives together, had nothing to add.

Derek wasn’t sure how long they stood on the beach with the rain pouring around them, the thunder roaring above them, too wrapped up in each other to care about their surroundings. They were happy, as they always were when they were together, and Derek let himself remember that was all that really mattered.

#sterek #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles x derek #derek x stiles #this is so fluffy #i hope its everything you wanted #cause i needed to write it <3 #prompts #answered #my writing #seik-o

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honeydots · 4 years

Note

200. “He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it.” ~~ This has some Vibes and I kinda like them so? I'd like 2 humbly request your take on this w/ shukita or akeshu if it's ok to ask for!! -- dorky-arsene (a sideblog)

“He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it”

Hello no I didn’t forget about these I am just slower than a little baby turtle!!!!! Anyway

Summary: Goro’s new job leads him to discover that dealing with both a crush and an idiot while flipping burgers is, unarguably, the worst turn his life could’ve taken.

cw: sexual themes (+p5r spoilers)

(ao3 link)

“Hello! Would you like to try our Big Bang Special Combo Shot-Straight-Through Promotional Meal for ‘Thy Father of Corruption 2: The Daughter of Rejection’ for ¥850?”

Goro wanted to quit.

You need this job. You need this job. He’d repeat to himself each time a customer decided they were feeling peckish. You will have no money if you quit and then you will have no home and then you will drop out of college and then you will die.

He’d left the police department after graduating. With his past plans of an 18-year life expectancy having slipped down the drain, he hardly had a reason to stay. High school had been an uphill battle with cases of murder and robbery breathing down his neck, and he’d hesitated to even make an attempt at trying to juggle his priorities in university. Dropping the detective gig meant dropping the media attention, too, which gave him breathing room he certainly knew he needed, but never really had.

The problem was, after three years of fading out of fame and living off his savings, he realized this wouldn’t stretch as far as he’d predicted. He hadn’t accounted nearly enough for the expenses that came with the unwelcome enforcement of trying to live as a proper human being. His bank account was growing meager. If he wanted to keep living (which was arguable) in the way that he was (which he did) he’d need an income. Almost anything would do, as long as it would bend and break to his schedule.

And, all things considered, he technically had connections here. And ever since… that, the pay had actually increased to a respectable amount. The management had rehired, retrained, and improved. It was fast food, but it was livable. Nothing shameful about being livable.

And god fucking dammit he had already done three interviews with no hires and he needed food other than half-cooked ramen noodles and bread slices.

“Can I get you anything else, sir?”

That didn’t mean he didn’t loathe every minute.

It was bad enough that he had a job at Big Bang Burger. And, bad enough that he’d been desperate to get it. It was bad enough that he had to bring in his homework like some anguished used-to-be honors student now getting barely passing marks. And christ, it was bad enough each time a customer would walk in, a hamburger-shaped icepick would slam itself into his frontal lobe, forever ingraining the memory of his premeditated brain murder of the former CEO of this very restaurant.

All of that, and he couldn’t stress this more, was bad enough. It was entirely shitty all around. Completely awful, and damming, and humbling, though he hated to admit it. He’d like to say it couldn’t get any worse. That this was the end of the line, get off the train before it turns around, don’t get stuck in the never ending cycle of beef patties and sesame seed buns.

But, god, of all the coworkers.

“Ya know,” said Sakamoto, leaning down on the front counter after their customer had left, “I dunno if clenching your teeth like you’ve got peanut butter stuck in there counts as ‘service with a smile.’”

Sakamoto Ryuji. The boy who had the opposite of a filter, and more like a megaphone spewing recordings of every profanity in the Japanese language. He, who had walked in on Goro’s second day and loudly declared, ‘I thought I smelled something, what’s this a-hole doing here?’ Really, who else could he tolerate spending eight-hour shifts with; greasy stoves, piss poor customers, and the ruthless scent of lysol on tile included?

Ah, right. Anyone else.

Goro pressed his lips together. “Hm. Well you know, I was almost certain that elbows on the counter was a fireable offense.”

Sakamoto snatched himself up in a second, elbows up high. He hung there and looked around the empty restaurant.

He pouted. “Not cool, dude. That’s only when there’s customers.”

Goro raised his eyebrows. He was really just going to stand there? He looked like an idiot, or a chicken. A hybrid that, if anyone could pull off, would be him. He was making a great show of it, too.

Sakamoto narrowed his eyes. “Unless you’re a snitch.”

Goro spoke in his most syrupy sweet voice. “Are you implying then, that your job is in my hands? An entertaining thought, Sakamoto.” If it were only that simple to really get him fired. Unfortunately, their manager seemed to love his enthusiasm. Every moment he spent enthusiastically mopping floors and singing into the handle was a moment Goro could’ve been writing soliloquies of his growing and newfound hatred for Carly Rae Jepsen.

Sakamoto folded his arms in a huff. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, man! Look at that fake-ass smile.” He shook his head. “And I get customer service blows and stuff, but you use it for everything. Lighten up dude! Take a break.”

Sakamoto said things with such confidence, such surety. It made his teeth grind.

“I’d prefer to keep my job,” Goro said, and gave him the sweet smile Sakamoto was arguing against. “Though, if you’d like to pay my rent for me, you’re more than welcome.”

He acted like he hadn’t even heard him.“Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re so gloomy all the time, your face just doesn’t know how to work it. Look it, check me out.” Sakamoto pointed his thumb at himself and flashed a toothy smile. “Just like that! All natural, bro. It’s easy. Come on, you really try it this time.”

Goro very clearly did not. He stared with his most obsolete and ‘stop-trying-to-have-a-conversation-with-me’ look he could muster. He’d communicate it telepathically, if given the chance.

“That doesn’t look like trying to me,” Sakamoto said expectantly.

Couldn’t they just sit in silence and wait for their fabrication of getting-along time when the next inevitable customer came in? “Perhaps, and please let me know if this is too complicated, I simply have no intention of trying, because I don’t believe there’s anything to fix.”

“Nah, that’s not it,” replied Sakamoto, as if he was being thoughtful.

Another reason why he was completely obnoxious was because the longer they knew each other, the less that Goro’s flawless stone faced looks worked. Sakamoto kept spewing hot air. He’d gained some kind of tolerance, and it was tedious to work around.

Sakamoto leaned back down, previous elbow warnings forgotten. “I bet you’re the kinda guy who’s super ticklish, so you act all boring so no one suspects it.”

“I’m not,” Goro snapped.

“Quick reply there, buddy.”

Goro didn’t answer to that. He didn’t owe it to him. This was pointless; why did Sakamoto find such pleasure in talking about pointless things?

He slouched further down. “So it’s silent treatment now. You’re checking all the boxes over here.” He waved his finger through the air. “Check, n’ check, n’, check.”

Goro was getting a headache. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Betcha you’re super ticklish. And like, one of those cry-laughers.”

“Sakamoto, did you hear what I just said.”

He stretched up from his position on the counter. “Like if I poke you in the side, I bet it would make ya jump.”

“Do not.” He could just try it. Goro would bend his finger back so far it’d break. He wondered if that would be a viable option to get him to stop talking sometime.

“Didn’t say I was gonna.” He rested his arms behind his neck. “You’re just proving my point more, though.”

Sakamoto was annoyingly stubborn at times. Once he found a niche with Goro, he’d hack his way in and grab on like a tick. Bother him like it was his last chance he’d ever get, as if they didn’t work shifts together four times a week. He was bound to get lyme disease at this rate.

Goro felt like a very frustrated pair of tweezers.“Can we talk about anything else, please?”

Sakamoto went quiet. He was just looking at him now. Goro tensed up. Was he really going to try and poke him? He meant it, he’d break his hand.

“Ya know, there is something I wanna talk to you about,” he said.

Goro did not like the sound of that. “Oh really.” He tried to sound like he was just told he was about to be given a lecture on the intricacies and details of lentil soup. Which, perhaps could be more interesting than whatever topic Sakamoto was about to pull out of his ass.

Sakamoto sniffed. “Yup. It’s about Akira.”

Oh, he really didn’t like where this was going. “Sakamoto, I—”

“When’re ya gonna like, confess.”

Goro visibly winced. Dammit. He knew he’d bring this up one day. He was absolutely infuriated Sakamoto knew about that, and he hadn’t even told him. He’d been making guesses and Goro had been just tired enough during his shift to let a hint of a sigh out, and Sakamoto had taken that to new heights. Another example of conversations being had that Goro would’ve just about died to get out of.

Sakamoto was still staring at him. Didn’t he have anything better to do? Goro knew they didn’t at this good for nothing job, but what was so hard about just acting like you’re busy. You’re pretending then, at least, and that’s something.

“Well, dude?” asked Sakamoto.

Any conversation is better than that one.

Mother of fuck.

“I…” Goro started, adjusting a piece of his hair, “I suppose I am a little ticklish.”

Sakamoto’s face lit up. “Dude, for real? Called it,” he said triumphantly. Had Goro not known him as well as he did, he’d think the divergence in conversation was a trick to get him to admit he was a bit… touchy. But he did know him, and he wasn’t one for games like that.

“Most people are, it shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s skin sensitivity, nothing more.”

Sakamoto shrugged. “Still funny you admitted to it.”

Sure. Very hilarious. Yet another fact Sakamoto now knows about him that he’d really have rather not shared under any circumstance.

“Satisfied, now?” Goro asked, but it wasn’t really a question. He didn’t plan on expanding, this was embarrassing enough as it was.

“Nope,” he replied, “cause that’s great and all, but I really gotta know the game plan.” He leaned in close to Goro, and he in turn leaned farther away.

“There’s no ‘game plan,’ Sakamoto. Please don’t get so close to me.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He moved back, obviously not finished. “Come on, though, you gotta have something.” And back down on the counter he slouched.

‘Something,’ he’d said. Yes, and that something was to keep his mouth shut and go about his life keeping each and every one of those mortifying feelings to himself. It was humiliating enough that Sakamoto knew. Telling Akira? He didn’t even want to imagine it. He’d rather face Okumura-san herself and ask her to buy one of their Shot-Straight-Through combo meals.

“There’s nothing. And I don’t plan there to be anything. And, it’s not really much of your business, is it?” Goro could feel himself growing irritated.

Sakamoto melted further into the counter. “I just don’t get why you’re not gonna ask him out if you like him. You might as well, man, it’ll be fine.”

What simple ways of thinking. Do this, get that in return. Black and white, and right and wrong. Spill your fleeting moment of vulnerability and try not to think about the extensive hole of commitment you’re burying yourself in. One turn of phrase, one word, one misplaced breath to Akira would forever rupture the sorry excuse of acquaintanceship they’d been flip flopping through for the past three years. Akira was a blank slate and simultaneously the person he knew best. He knew him, but didn’t really, and he could never tell what he was thinking. Suddenly he was gambling again, and this time it came entirely unwelcome. Risks you face before death and risks that you’ll keep living through no matter the outcome tasted different. One was tangy and sweet and thrilling, the other was bitter shit. Not to mention that Akira was too kind to him for his own good. He couldn’t even tell what was a lie.

But, Sakamoto didn’t need to know all that. “You say that like there’s nothing to consider. As if I’ve never even given this thought. You do not belong in my head, Sakamoto. And I do not need to give you, an obvious outsider on the entire dilemma, any sort of justification for why I’m going to continue to abstain on something as trivial as a confession.”

Sakamoto huffed at him. “What if I said that I gua-ran-tee he’s not gonna say no to you.”

Goro was already sick of this. What, had Sakamoto expected his heart to skip? His pulse to rise? That just the very thought of mutual feelings would send him into some flustered mess? Please. He told the tingling feeling going up through his legs and down his arms and up the back of his neck to shut the fuck up.

He couldn’t stay quiet for long. Sakamoto could and would get ideas. “Then why doesn’t he just tell me that himself? Why are you playing wingman for him?”

“Cause he’s not gonna say anything cause he’s got to be worried that he’s gonna freak you and your crazy attachment issues out!”

Of course, there it was. The blind bet. Sakamoto’s one-way thinking at it again, and Goro would not have it. “I’m not going to start playing some game with him about the complexities of whatever idea of consent he has in his head. I don’t need his sympathy, and I am certainly not looking for it. I don’t have time for something messy and half-assed. I don’t want that, and surely he doesn’t, either. If he feels any way about me, he’d ought to tell me, because then maybe we’d find some kind of leeway. But I will not let him sit there and wait for me to make the first move, like a key element in his plan. This is not some teenage romance, and I am not a caricature of his love life. He can wait patiently all he’d like, but I’m perfectly content as I am now.”

Sakamoto seemed a little stunned.

“Man, he’s just…” He trailed off. They sat in silence.

So ways still existed to get Sakamoto to stop rambling on. He was sure he’d regret saying this later, for a multitude of reasons. He didn’t hate Sakamoto, even saying dislike felt strong, but he always talked about things that Goro had no interest nor inclination to discuss. Maybe silence was for the best between them, for now.

“He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it. That’s all it is, dude,” said Sakamoto.

Goro inhaled. So he wasn’t done, then. “Love… is an entirely different conversation.”

“Okay, fine, you want me to say he ‘like-likes’ you like some fifth grader? Cause he does.”

Goro didn’t reply. He’d made his point.

“He isn’t playing one of your weirdo mind games,” Sakamoto continued. “I think you’re thinking too hard about this. He’s just a guy. He just wants to make sure you’re all comfortable and shit. Cause it’s not like we don’t all know the bullshit that was goin’ on for you.”

“I am not looking for his pity.” A fine thing to say while working at a Big Bang Burger in a bright yellow shirt and starred apron. It didn’t matter. He didn’t wear this with pride, per say, but he wouldn’t ask someone to feel sorry for him.

He didn’t exactly want to be seen, either. Especially not Akira, but of course he’d make habits of visiting. That was just like him, and it was just like his pity, too.

Sakamoto looked frustrated. “He ain’t pitying you, man! He’s tryin’ to respect you! He knows you got things to go through on your own and he’s trying to give you space and everything.”

Goro clicked his tongue. “If you know that’s his tactic, why are you trying to pressure me into this?”

“Cause I don’t care, dude!” Sakamoto said, and then stopped himself, and promptly looked very guilty. “Well, okay. I do care. Like, I do. But sometimes…” He looked like he was trying to pick his words out carefully. He had an idea, just no way to form it.

He settled. “Sometimes, you just gotta get laid, man.”

At this point, Goro found himself shocked that he wasn’t banging his own head against the counter.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re twenty one years old! Dude, I know you haven’t gotten any,” Sakamoto argued. “Your gay ass with emotional problems? Get outta here.”

“This is not—”

Sakamoto put his hands up nonshalontly. “And like, yeah, no judgey stuff, take your time if you gotta. But have you considered it? Tell me. I betcha you haven’t.”

Goro opened his mouth, expecting to reply with an incredibly well thought out ‘fuck off,’ but the automatic doors slid open, and suddenly Goro was all smiles and greetings, so what came out instead was, “Hello! Welcome to Big Bang Burger! Would you—ah.”

Sakamoto snorted loudly, and Goro wanted to kick him so bad.

And actually, what was stopping him? Sakamoto had earned this, and it’s not like this customer would care.

Because, who else could’ve been just about summoned by the trouble than Kurusu Akira himself; strolling in so casually through the doors, like he hadn’t just become the most unpleasant topic of conversation Goro had ever had with Sakamoto. Speak of the devil was an understatement, or perhaps he was the devil himself.

“What the eff, man!”

“Hey you two,” said Akira, hands in his pockets and clearly bagless. He didn’t even register Goro’s kick, like that was just some normal occurrence. Somehow, that made him angrier.

“Yo,” said Sakamoto, recovering annoyingly quickly. Goro wondered if he should’ve considered breaking his finger.

Sakamoto reached out to Akira for a fist bump. “You don’t have the cat with ya?”

Akira bumped him back. “Nope. Just me today.”

“Sweet,” Sakamoto replied, a smile growing wide. Goro hated the look. It was the hungriest and most dastardly shit-eating grin he’d ever seen him dare to make. So, knowing Sakamoto and his terrible poker face, he had thought up some idiotic ploy.

“What’s up with you?” Akira asked, and thank god it wasn’t directed at Goro. Sakamoto’s obviousness did not go unnoticed.

“Oh nothin’, nothin’,” said Sakamoto, entirely conspicuously, “I gotta go, though, grind never stops. Super secret stuff in the back.”

Goro glared at him. So now he would pretend to be busy?

“Burger secrets,” Akira said, and Ryuji gave him a finger gun in reply. He walked off without a word, but apparently felt the inclination to jerk his head back at Goro, as if he didn’t know what he was doing.

He sighed. No amount of alone time would ever compel Goro to confess at a Big Bang Burger, of all places. At least Akira tended to be a little more bearable in conversation. He hoped he’d be an in and out customer. “Can I get you anything?”

Akira looked at him for a moment. “You look flustered.”

Goro felt himself twitch. He wasn’t flustered, like some preteen who can’t hear the word genital without bursting into laughter. If anything, Sakamoto had caught him off guard with his stupidity. He obviously was not one to be so affected by such a topic. He was an adult, and a professional. He would again not think about the fact he was wearing an orange visor right now.

“I’m positive that isn’t a menu item,” he replied, keeping his pleasant smile plastered on, keeping any stray annoyance from showing.

Akira examined him closer. “Do you have a fever or something? You look red.”

Goro drummed his fingers against the counter impatiently. What was he supposed to say? Sorry, Akira, Sakamoto just decided to kindly push the image of you railing me as a form of twisted therapy into the forefront of my consciousness. Would you like any drinks?

“I’m fine. I’m not the type to go to work sick,” he decided on instead.

“Really?” He didn’t seem convinced.

Goro folded his arms. “While living in a society where health is determined by the trust of the majority, I have no plans to spread my germs to an unsuspecting businessman, in that I expect the same from him.”

Akira considered that for a moment. “So you’re embarrassed, then.”

Goro’s expression turned sour. He was not in the mood for a debate. “Everyone seems to be presuming things today, have I missed a memo?”

Akira didn’t miss a beat. “Ryuji said something?”

Goro dragged his fingernails into his palm. He was hardly being that obvious, he wasn’t a bumbling idiot who couldn’t keep a straight face. Akira was just acutely good at reading people, (namely, reading him) and it drove Goro up the wall. It was unfair, for one thing, since Akira continued to maintain blank expressions in the face of clowns and hookers, keeping his inner thoughts kept behind lock and key. And, as of more recently, he was the one person Goro really desperately wanted to hide every wandering emotion from possible. Just his luck, fall for the bastard who analyzes people as a side job for his savior-complex living.

This was making him more frustrated. “Would you just order?”

Akira looked at the menu, but Goro knew it was bullshit. He ordered the same thing every time— a shake and a burger, no tomatoes. He certainly already knew what he wanted, but was just causing trouble in the meantime. What an annoyance. Goro punched it in, and made no moves to go and cook. If Sakamoto was going to have his “business” in the back, then he could stay there and do his job.

“Sit over there, we’ll bring it to you when it’s done,” he said, and Akira silently obliged. He gave a small smile before he turned, leaving Goro completely alone with his thoughts as he sat at his table and scrolled through his phone.

He couldn’t believe the timing of Sakamoto’s distasteful comment to Akira’s unseasonable entrance. Things always seemed to fall into place with Goro, just not the right places. The right place, but a little down, and to the left, the left, he said. He wished Sakamoto would mind his own business, let him quietly pine until his untimely death; which kept getting put off, might he add.

Sakamoto emerged from the back end of the restaurant. He was holding the bag of presumably Akira’s food, and his shake. He waved them enthusiastically.

“Go on, dude,” he smirked.

Goro was blunt. “No.” He’d pissed him off enough today. He wasn’t going to walk over there and serve the food. Sakamoto’s little idea of love, romance and marriage in a burger joint would have to wait. Ideally, it would get itself stuck in wet concrete, and drown way down under where no one could see it and where the light of day would never reach.

Sakamoto seemed to catch his drift. “Jeez, fine. Huffy, huffy.”

He walked over to Akira with a spring in his step, and they started chatting idly. Goro couldn’t hear. In all honesty, he was trying to tune them out. His headache was growing worse. Pounding in his head, every light too bright and repetitive music blurring together his thoughts. And of course there was the elephant in the room, who was whispering to him Sakamoto’s crude suggestions, and the irritating notion that maybe he was right, just a little bit.

He needed to get himself together. He was acting like some horny teenager. Get fucked, you raunchy elephant.

Sakamoto left to let him eat, and made a show of going back to the other end of the restaurant, all while wiggling his eyebrows at Goro. In turn, Goro made a show of rolling his eyes and planting himself facing away from Akira. It made Sakamoto laugh, for whatever reason, and Goro just ignored him.

He watched the door idly and tried to relax. He’d been clenching his teeth, and his jaw ached. He tried to focus to get his headache to fade into obscurity. He couldn’t find much to concentrate on, was his issue. Other than the obvious, which he would ignore without remorse. He wanted to go home. No lights too bright there, no sloppily cleaned windows, and especially no crush (the word left a bad taste in his mouth. Boy who has left him emotionally compromised after giving him no reason to deny he had worth in the world and keeps him up at night thinking about the way he really tried to will him back into existence when he could, god, have anything else in the world, and he wanted him. Was that a better option?) sitting out of view, chewing quietly and doing absolutely nothing to draw so much attention to himself. At home he could drown it all out in a cold bath, and let himself think of nothing but his numbing toes and pruning fingers.

“Hey, catch,” Akira said, suddenly there and startling Goro out of his bathlike daydream. He tossed something onto the counter. Goro did not catch it.

It was a napkin, all folded up in a careful way. It didn’t hold the shape well, but the intention was pretty clear. “Um. A crane?”

“Yup. Present for you.” he started, rubbing his neck, and he had the nerve to look bashful. “I got bored.”

Goro hadn’t noticed him making it. Which, alright, did make sense, he was purposefully keeping his neck away from that entire half of the restaurant. “Sorry we aren’t quite the height of entertainment here.” Goro lightly touched its head. He didn’t know Akira knew how to make these. “Well, thank you, I guess.”

Akira pushed his glasses further up his nose. “You’re welcome to name him.”

“I think that I won’t.”

“That can be pretty trendy, too,” he replied. “I’ve gotta go. Class. Tell Ryuji I say bye.”

“Bye, dude!” Sakamoto shouted from the back. There was that tiresome enthusiasm again.

It made Akira smile.“Nevermind, then. See you.”

Goro just barely lifted his hand by the wrist to wave. “Bye.”

Akira turned, gave him a small trill of his fingers, and left. Sakamoto did not return to his exit, and Goro savored the moment. It was just him and the crane, now.

It was pretty shoddy. Unfolding, and barely standing up on its own. Cheap paper napkins were not the ideal material for origami, it seemed. He watched it slowly fall apart, wings losing shape and the head relaxing into its neck. Akira had hardly stayed long, so that meant he was probably pretty good at this sort of thing. He wouldn’t have guessed.

…He thought about how it might look on proper paper. The creases sharp and crisp, the ends pointed and still. What would Akira’s hands look like while they worked? He could hear the sounds of the folding, and the wedging, clean paper being bent and rippled. Delicate fingers, working through, meticulously checking every last inch. Sometimes a pinch, just where it’s needed. And then finished, folded tight, wrapped together in itself. Very quick work, with the touch of a hand.

“The heck is that?” Sakamoto said, getting an actual jump out of Goro.

“What?” he gasped, and took a second to collect his thoughts. At work. Sakamoto came back. In a Big Bang Burger. Headache present. Good fucking god. “It’s just…” He pressed his fingers into the side of his temple “It’s a paper crane. Akira made it.”

Sakamoto let that sink in.“You tellin me you were just sitting here staring at the thing Akira made you?”

“I wasn’t,” Goro replied, trying desperately to catch his breath as casually as possible.

“Uh, you literally were.” Sakamoto got uncomfortably close to him again. Goro physically moved away, because now was not the time.

It didn’t deter Sakamoto whatsoever. He put his hands on his hips and gave an annoying grin. “Bro, you gotta tell him… You’ve obviously got it preeetty bad.”

Goro was fed up with this. This conversation needed to end, or he thought he might explode. “I don’t ‘have it bad,’ Sakamoto, stop bringing this up.”

Sakamoto smirked at him. “You so do though, is the thing.”

“I don’t. Leave me alone.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and kept his mouth shut. He was acting so haughty, like he’d won the argument. Which, he hadn’t, for the record.

That stupid crane. All it’d done was make things worse. And what was it even doing? Sitting here crumbling away into uselessly folded paper. A cheap napkin made of other recycled cheap napkins. Clean and crisp paper was a long sought after dream, a fantasy and nothing more.

You know, this was just it, really. This is what he meant. Akira would try and fold him up and he’d inevitably fall back down. He didn’t know just what fantastic method he’d try, but it wouldn’t matter— he was made of what he was made of, and nothing would hold him up. Trying was pointless, risking for naught, it would be better for everyone if he stayed just how he was and didn’t overstay his use.

He would not fit into Akira’s plans or his pities. He couldn’t.

“…Bruh. What does that even mean.”

Ah? “What?“ No. He had not said that out loud. Sakamoto did not just hear all that nonsense.

Sakamoto was giving him a funny look. “You’re not a napkin, man.”

God, shit. Shit shit shit. “I— I know that, this is just—“ The unpleasant feeling of blood rushing to his face was just as intolerable as it was unpreventable.

“For real? Cause you sure sounded like you were calling yourself a napkin.”

Absolutely unbelievable. How unruly was he that he’d just spouted all that like it was nothing? He couldn’t believe he had to explain himself now, but letting him get ideas was undeniably worse. “It’s supposed to be… symbolic, Sakamoto.”

He could practically see the gears turning in his head. That wasn’t something difficult to understand, you dunce. Every second of this humiliating scene felt like a knife turning in his back.

“Why does your brain work in such effed up ways. You gotta work on that,” Sakamoto said, not letting up his judgemental look.

He crossed his arms, trying to make his mortification appear like annoyance. “Don’t you start with me. As if you ever have something useful to say. At least I’m— I’m thinking, here.”

That riled him up a bit. “I’m thinkin’! I almost flunked literature so maybe I’m not so good at this analysis stuff, but you know what? Hear me out.” Goro did not want to hear him out. He continued despite that. “I get it, you got your problems. But I really don’t think you callin’ yourself some shitty crane is fair, you know? Like, you’re a whole guy.”

He did not appreciate how genuine Sakamoto was acting. It was odd, and it felt awkward coming from him. He didn’t want to feel guilty for being rude to him earlier, either. Just another topic to bother him to sleep.

Sakamoto went on. “Gahhh, it feels weird sayin’ this but like, you’re not a napkin, okay! And Akira doesn’t think so either. You’re more… complicated. Napkins don’t pay taxes or anything.”

Ah, alright. So it was mostly bullshit. He could ease the guilt away in one fell swoop.

Goro’s disinterest seemed to show itself well to Sakamoto. “Just, okay. Lemme get my thoughts here. You gotta like… be your own first step. I didn’t get my own shit sorted out until I actually tried to. And I’m not sayin it’s easy to do. But Imma tell you right now your first step is gonna be to stop thinking you’re a napkin or a bucket or a plate of green beans or whatever else you come up with. And I mean it, man.”

Goro knew he had things to say to that. He had thought out replies and phrases that Sakamoto would need more headspace to begin to understand. But none of them came to him. So he decided to stay threateningly quiet.

It was well received. “Okay okay, you’re gettin’ mad, I can tell. I’m gonna take my break,” Sakamoto relented, and turned on his heel. “I ain’t really trying to tell ya what to do but give it a thinking about, alright? ‘Least for Akira’s sake,” he said over his shoulder, and left Goro almost more alone than before.

It wasn’t even Akira’s sake Goro was worried about. Not in the way Sakamoto seemed to think. And he didn’t need to be told he wasn’t some inanimate object, he wasn’t that out of mind.

Any sort of sensible argument would have to come to him after the fact, apparently. To tell him this wouldn’t be a “first step,” more like a hundredth. How many paces did crawling out of the hole he’d buried himself in count for? How many miles had he gone by now, barefoot and bleeding all the way.

Such a stupid conversation. Needless, too, since for whatever reason his filter decided to leave him to fend for himself. Just another addition to this embarrassing excuse of a shift today.

The paper crane sat still on the counter, though it hardly resembled one anymore. He almost felt bad. He had his typical pit in his stomach, but nothing exactly to pinpoint it on. Was he wallowing in that much self-loathing?

Perhaps.

Goro adamantly refused to have any more dramatic revelations at his part time job, so any introspections would have to come later.

He put the crumpled crane in his pocket. It was certainly not going to be a crane once he took it out again, but he didn’t really know what else to do with it. Throwing it away felt wrong, to him. Though he wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do with it when he got home.

Akira hadn’t given this to him in hopes of causing some mental anguish. Or at least, he assumed so. Sakamoto had said he didn’t play mind games, but if not those, what was he doing? It felt better to know it was a game, in that way there was something about Akira’s mystery of a consciousness he could pry through.

Was he reading into things? For sure. Reading too deeply into anything had been a talent of his for as long as he could remember. It had saved his life before, many times and in the most difficult of times.

This crane wasn’t life threatening, but it felt like it was. Not in the thrilling way, but in the shitty way.

His shift was over soon. Which reminded him, Sakamoto had surely already taken his break. He was a dip, but Goro preferred his own thoughts to any conversation they’d had today. And that was saying something, since getting out of his own head was a much needed relief that he’d take almost any chance he got.

He was overthinking, and there was nothing he could do about it. He would continue to overthink until someone stole his brain and dunked it in acid. Where was the enjoyment otherwise? It was all he knew how to do.

And even he didn’t overthink this— if Akira had given this to him in earnest and in playfulness, and if Sakamoto hadn’t been overtly pulling his leg through their shifts today. There wasn’t even anything remarkable about it. If there was a chance that maybe things were just okay, and getting better, and he wasn’t a living metaphor for a tissue. Oh just, say he invited him out for coffee, and Akira surprised him with a new little creation, less spur of the moment and made something almost sweet. He’d never drop his pride so low as to ask for a lesson, but if he did, maybe he could learn to make something, too. And maybe he wouldn’t hate every moment of it, and maybe he’d like getting so close, and maybe he’d appreciate the mistakes as much as the praises.

…Hm.

That was just a fantasy, of course. And surely, nothing was all that great about it. Anything could go wrong in any number of ways, his own interventions just one category.

Maybe it was the headache, or the dragging on shift, or the terrible lights, or the distant humming of his coworker, but Goro must’ve been caught off guard today. Because otherwise, why else would he have thought, not long and not convincingly, but still a thought as present as can be, that maybe, despite everything.

It could be nice. Just for a little bit. Maybe that didn’t sound quite so bad.

Not so bad at all.

#it is shuake btw!#thank u for requesting this sorry i took ages #i hope you’ll enjoy it...... and sorry if youve been avoiding spoilers!!!#i know the games out but i also know not everyone has seen all the Content #but i will leave it at that #also its 6k cause i just dont know how to stop talking #my fics #my p5 fics #ask #dorky-arsene

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warpwalker · 4 years

Text

Vox-Logs: Entry One

Conversation with a Lamenter - Doing Your “Best”

12.21.2020

“The Lamenters are an unfortunate Loyalist Chapter of Space Marines which, perhaps more than any other Chapter of the present era, seems to have been cursed by a dark shadow that has long determined its fate.

The Lamenters' accursed and haunted legacy seems to have tainted much of what they have achieved and their victories often become bitter ashes in their hands.

[They] are a Successor Chapter of the Blood Angels created during the 21st "Cursed" Founding, and seem to have eliminated the gene-seed flaws known as the Black Rage and the Red Thirst through unknown means, but this secret cure may have been lost along with the Chapter.

[They] have had a tumultuous -- often fraught -- history. They have twice been brought to the very brink of destruction, first during the Badab War and later in battle with the overwhelming horror of the Tyranids.

Each time they have endured, despite inherent instabilities in their Chapter gene-seed, and their Chapter Master claims that with every travail they have overcome, the Lamenters have only grown stronger.”

-Introduction to the Lamenters, Warhammer 40k Wiki

I first saw Michael as a single figure, back when I first encountered a small company, most likely a lone warband, of Lamenters as I first began in exploring the practice. When I had first heard their story, I fittingly, well, lamented, as I imagine is the natural response to their cause and general aura. Michael, specifically, stood out among his brothers - whether because he bore the bleeding heart of his kin on his chest (where others held their gene-father’s bloody tear), his crying helmet, or simply the air he carried about him, I couldn’t say, only that I knew within he would somehow be back.

He was indeed, just recently as of writing this. It was an urgent and fleeting affair, and the thought of him pestered me for a time until I relented to tune in to exactly what was needed of me. Though I’ll spare his details for privacy, it was certainly dire, though unfortunately none could expect much better when being contacted by the “cursed” sons of the 21st. I’m no healer, much less an apothecary of his world, but I did what I could, returning him to what remnant of his brethren remained nearby to relinquish him to their care. I had done what I could, and he was grateful enough to grant me his name. Michael Aurelius - Michael, he was fine with. So Michael it was.

“For those we cherish, we die in Glory!”

-Warcry of the Lamenters Blood Angels Successor Chapter

I revisited Michael the next night, as best I could, to provide company. He had been heavily wounded in the situation I had found him in and subsequently pulled him from, so I only thought it apt to try to see him again as soon as possible. Though bedbound, he was relatively cheerful, something I often wish I could manage myself. Michael looks much like his gene-sire. Though cropped short and scruffy, his hair is flaxen blonde and practically glows. You can see the pain of his service in his face, but not in his scars (none amount to more than knicks that got a bit too deep, or a scratch that he no doubt bothered past its due) - no, it lies in his eyes, and I doubt little that the same couldn’t be said of his brothers. You can tell they might have been a sky-shade blue, once bright and beautiful, but now, they look at you in a sallow, anxious gray. It breaks my heart.

We began to speak. He firstly apologized - I quickly denounced it as not necessary, but he insisted, and when I heard him apologize again, I was speechless a moment when he did. He was apologizing for not doing well enough. As if somehow these injuries he now bore were a failure when, without disclosing detail, his predicament saw odds stacked impossibly against him. I felt rude doing it, but I just gawked at him. ‘You did your best,’ I had assured him, staying close to provide comfort. He only shook his head. He could have done better.

I looked him over again. This man, this Astartes, a Space Marine, was lying with bloody bandages and a crick in his side telling me that, in an overwhelming force of opposition he had no hopes of beating, he should have done better. He knows he’s destined to die, as all things are, but his belief is that his death will be swift and unnecessary, a sacrifice of war that perhaps, by even a sliver, what he values may be granted more time to save itself, to grow beyond, especially so at the hands of a Chapter forever branded with the notion of redeeming itself for crimes uncommitted. I can’t blame him - it’s what they’re taught. It’s all they know. But Michael is a Lamenter though and through, and I knew there was something he needed to hear that he would have never heard in his life otherwise - provided he had lived to hear it at all. “Your best was enough. It was your best.”

He looked at me, squinting for a moment, in a quiet stupor, and I continued on.

The Lamenters strike a chord with me because of their past, and the very notion Michael has his particular view towards - one’s “best”. From their involvement in the Badab War and subsequent guilt-bound control from the Astral Claws to the horrors they faced, alone, against the forefront of the Tyranid hivefleets, the Lamenters have seen themselves placed at a higher standard of “best” than even their fellow Astartes from the moment of their conception and creation from the origins of the Blood Angels Legion. A “best” that, in Michael at least, I can see has made their genuine, natural, true best a strange standard of normal. This wouldn’t be an issue if it didn’t mean they now strive for a new impossible goal, a literal “better than their best”, which in itself sounds rather ridiculous, does it not?

As I explained this to Michael, I reflected on my own experiences. I’ve always been a perfectionist, but it’s never been my doing. I’ve been through a lot, and that lot included a lot of ridicule and comparison from almost every source in my formative years. It’s left a lot of damage on me, shackles I don’t know when I’ll ever shake off, if at all. I’ve always been seen as, and eventually came to judge myself as, the “cursed” one of the group, the unfortunate and unlucky weak link, even where it may not have been true. The simple fact that I had been conditioned to see myself that way made it an automatic air about me, and still does. I am my own cursed chapter, forced to forever see myself distorted in the mirror, to try to force myself into a “better than my best”.

But what is our best really? It’s near-impossible to try to define “best” for any given person other than yourself, and that brings me to the forefront of this entire ramble. Not a single person shares the same definition for a personal best, nor do they even hold the same definition per day - at least, they shouldn’t. Yet through social norms, self-conceived personal notions, and ingrained biases, we see the best as an unbeatable perfect, and then some. This is extremely unhealthy, and not only should we let down our arms against ourselves, but others as well. Judgment breeds this mindset, and your standards are your own alone, nothing more. They should never hold power over anyone else, would they risk creating many more “unfortunates” who see no hope in dragging themselves out of the fray of their own self-perception.

Do not lament to some false-conceived image of you, that shakes off the impossible to shake off and sacrifices yourself needlessly for unrealistic goals. Do not heed the pointing fingers and hushed whispers of failure, and even moreso, do not point your finger to anyone else. Find a time to look at yourself in the mirror and say, “I’m doing my best.”

Maybe your best is finishing a single page of a ten-page paper for that day. Maybe your best is making that one phone call. Maybe your best is remembering to brush your teeth that morning. Maybe your best is surviving and living to have a discussion with a Warp-wandering oddling who comes from a time long before you.

For those you cherish, die in Glory, not in vain, and live for yourself most of all. Let what you cherish most, be yourself. By accepting your best, no matter what it truly is, you prevail - and for that, become stronger in yourself.

Wishing Michael a wonderful recovery.

#vox logs #pop culture paganism #michael aurelius #lamenters

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years

Text

Somebody To You: 17

Friendly reminder to please Like and/or Reblog. It helps more than you think! :)

A/N: A MASSIVE shoutout and credit to this dream of a person, @nnevrmind, who not only gave me ALL of the information on Rome and the historical significance of the places mentioned (and also made me want to visit Rome even MORE now), but also inspired a large chunk of this chapter and upcoming chapters. You’re an actual angel and I’m SOOO appreciative of you reaching out and helping me with this! Thank you thank you thank you!! :) <3

Word Count: 3,861

Click Here For Previous Chapter & Other Completed Stories

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

Sleep had never been so comfortable before, which was unheard of for Zoey when she was in a bed that was not her own. She almost thought the whole trip to Italy was a dream. But as she stretched and fluttered her eyes open, a smile spread across her face, looking passed the white canopy that surrounded her bed through the window that overlooked the beautiful acreage of property that the sun shone down on. She wished that she could blink and have this image ingrained in her mind forever.

Zoey’s phone had automatically adjusted to Rome time, seeing that it was only 7 AM. Her hair had dried after last night’s shower, so she put it in a simple low messy bun, pulling strands of hair out to frame her face and heading downstairs to see if anyone else had woken up yet, deciding not to change or put makeup on as she didn’t know the plans for today.

The first person she ran into was Nancy who’s voluminous curly dark hair was messy and diffused on her head. She sat cross-legged on a barstool at the kitchen island, still in her pajamas, eating a bowl of fruits.

“It’s early,” was all she managed, the sleep in her voice still evident.

Zoey snorted out a “morning,” when she heard smacking of feet against the tile behind her.

Harry came into view, grinning. His puffy eyes and cheeks made him look five years younger as his deep, raspy voice greeted them, followed by, “I thought I heard someone leave their room. I didn’t want to be the only one up. Coffee?” he offered.

“Please,” she nodded, allowing him to pass.

Zoey decided to step out onto the back terrace and take a seat at the couches by the firepit that was now laden with ash from last night’s fire. The view was incredible. It’s no wonder Italy is considered one of the most beautiful countries in the world. She couldn’t imagine ever getting bored with this. Harry had disrupted her thoughts, stepping out of the french doors that lead onto the stone slab and carefully making his way over with two mugs in hand.

“Thank you,” she grinned, taking hers and wrapping her hands around it while he sat beside her.

Harry nodded, placing his arm on the armrest and looking out at the garden, “Incredible, right?”

“I can’t believe people get to live here.”

He nodded, “That’s why it’s one of my favorite places to visit. Never gets old.”

It’s like he could read her mind. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to make it so hard not to like him? Couldn’t he just be a creepy weirdo like most of the guys she knew? She turned to him, trying to force the thoughts away, and smiled, “You picked an amazing place to stay at. Thank you. It really is beautiful here. All the artwork and old detailing in the house. It makes you wonder how old it is and who all lived here.”

“Well, I had to make sure I picked a place with character,” Harry smirked, “Couldn’t have you come out here and stay at a place like my house in LA.”

She chuckled, only lightly checking his shoulder so as not to make him spill his coffee, “Well, at least I know you’ve got good taste.”

“In some things, I guess,” he turned to her, “I’m alright in vacations and music. Not so great in the girl department, am I?”

Zoey shrugged, “I don’t know. I think you’re pretty good at picking them. You’re just not good at the follow-through.”

“How has she been?”

Zoey knew he meant Aurora. And her heart panged a little thinking he might still have feelings for her. She had noticed the occasional glances between each other last night, and although she wasn’t worried that Rory might make a move, Zoey couldn’t help but wonder if there was still a spark between them or if they regret ending things. Still, he didn’t know about Aurora and Brett, and she’d rather he found out by her than in passing in case he did still care for Aurora and was hurt by being caught off guard.

“She seems alright. Brett asked her to be his girlfriend.”

“Oh. So they’re dating?” Harry asked, earning a nod from Zoey.

Her eyes lingered on him, unblinking, waiting for a reaction. And hearing those words hurt, but not because Rory was taken now. He was happy for her, genuinely. But it hurt because it was so easy for someone else to do what he couldn’t seem to do. It took no time at all for Brett to figure out that he liked Aurora enough to make it official. This wasn’t the first time this has happened to Harry. In fact, there were several instances where Harry was too afraid to commit that he got beat out by someone else. When would he learn?

Harry nodded, “Good for them. He seems alright.”

Zoey snorted, rolling her eyes, “Just last week you were calling him a...what was it? Little bitch?”

Harry smirked, taking a sip of his still-hot coffee, “I was in a bad mood.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Besides,” Harry shrugged, looking out at the view again, “Maybe the guys are right. Maybe I need to branch out more. I always go after the same type of girls. Maybe I should see what else is out there. Try something new.”

“Uh...hello? I’ve been saying that, too! I mean, there’s no shame in going after the same kind of girls. You like what you like. But it doesn’t hurt to venture. I’ve found it to be fun.”

“Yeah, I know all the fun you’ve had! Mama’s boys, virgins, and guys that are stuck on their exes. Tell me again how venturing has been doing for you?” Harry teased.

“Not fair. Just because I haven’t had any luck doesn’t mean I haven’t had fun doing it. Plus, I’ve gotten free food out of it, so it’s not all a loss.”

Harry laughed before turning to look at her, a smile hidden behind her coffee mug as she took a gentle sip, looking back out at the fields. The sun made her navy eyes look brighter and gave her a skin a soft glow. She brushed the strands of hair that framed her face out of the way and turned to look at him with a hesitant grin when she noticed he was already looking at her.

“What?” she asked, self consciously.

Harry shook his head, trying his best to sound flippant, “Nothing. Just thinking about how my friends keep joking around saying I should date you.”

He noticed Zoey’s cheeks began to blush as she forced a laugh, sarcastically saying, “Could you imagine? Talk about not your type.”

Harry let out a chuckle, a little staggered by how put-off she sounded, “Isn’t that the point? To date someone who’s not my type?”

Zoey paused, staring at him, her eyebrows starting to furrow as she stuttered, “Wait, I’m confused. Are you asking me to go on a date with you?”

His heart started pounding nervously and a hole formed in the pit of his stomach when he thought he noticed a hint of discomfort in her face. Quickly he stammered, “No! No that’d be weird. I was just saying...nevermind.”

“Well, damn, you didn’t have to sound so disgusted,” she chuntered.

“No, I’m not disgusted. It’s just-” he rambled before noticing the amused smile on her face and realized she was joking. They both let out a laugh and Harry relaxed saying, “We should wake everyone up. We need to get going soon.”

The two recruited Nancy to help, and as they attempted to wake Andy, Aurora, and Katie, Harry couldn’t help but replay their conversation over and over in his head. Was she weirded out at the idea of them dating? Was that really an expression of discomfort on her face or was it something else? He couldn’t recall hearing a tone of annoyance. Maybe she wasn’t completely uninterested.

What if they did go on a date and it turned out to be awkward or bad? Would it ruin their friendship? He didn’t think he could handle losing her. But what if it went well? What if it was the best date he’s ever been on? What if they actually started dating? He’d always wanted to bring her back home to England one day to meet his friends and family. What if he introduced her as his girlfriend? Surely he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his friends. He could hear the endless amounts of ‘I told you so’ now.

No, he couldn’t. That’s too weird. They’re best friends. Besides, he practically dated her roommate who is here with them now. Even if Aurora is dating Brett now, how weird would it be to hook up with Zoey on this trip with his ex-fling only feet away? Pretty fucked up.

Over a quick breakfast, Harry explained the plans. He had hired a guide to take them on a tour around Rome for the day. It would be as private as they could manage, as the company was made aware that Harry would be there and they did their best to arrange accommodations so that he could be in attendance without worrying about being hounded, though there was only so much they could do with high-tourist attractions, especially outdoors. He had explained to them to make sure they wore clothes that covered their shoulders and knees in case they visited any holy places to show respect and to make sure they wore comfortable shoes.

As soon as everyone had finished getting dressed, they all piled into the SUV and headed towards the colosseum where they were lucky enough to find a car park nearby. The group walked the rest of the way, Harry walking in the lead with Nancy while Aurora talked to Katie, and Andy and Zoey linked arms together in the back. They circled the Colosseum until Harry saw a tall, tanned, long, dark-haired man wearing a red lanyard, his muscles popping through his tight, light blue button-up.

“Please tell me that’s our tour guide,” Andy muttered, looking him up and down, causing the girls to laugh.

“Buongiorno!” the man called out, shaking hands with Harry first, before greeting everyone else. “Ciao. It’s so nice to meet you all. My name is Marco,” he introduced himself before getting everyone else’s name, “I hear you’ve come to Italy to celebrate someone’s birthday?” Everyone turned to Zoey, pulling her forward and she blushed at the attention. Marco smiled and she got a good look at his perfect teeth and beautiful brown eyes as he said, “Ah, Zoey, right? When is your birthday?”

“Tomorrow,” she said, holding his gaze.

He lowered his voice, a slight smirk appearing on his face, “Well, happy almost birthday to you, then. You stay by me while I show you around. Front row seat to the show,” he winked, earning a smile and a nod from Zoey. If Jess were here to see this she’d shit her pants.

As Marco explained the process of the tour to the group, Zoey caught Andy’s eyes who mouthed, “OH MY GOD!” to which Zoey mouthed back, “I KNOW!” making her little sister giggle.

Eventually they followed Marco, with Zoey by his side, past a long line of waiting people and into the colosseum where he told them all about its history as an amphitheater that not only held gladiator and wild animal fights but also could be filled with water to hold mock naval battles.

Marco talked with such passion and enthusiasm that it was hard not to be interested. Harry snuck a peek at Zoey as they roamed and smiled as she scanned all around with such wonder. He could tell she was really taking in the scene and the information, completely invested in learning more about the history.

It wasn’t until they were finishing up at the colosseum when someone had recognized Harry. He gave a quick grin and waved at the passing girl, ducking his head a little more as they made their way on over to the Forum, which was just next door. Marco did his best to inform them of the old marketplace, but the group became increasingly more interested in the Italian tour guide, interrupting frequently to ask more about himself, which he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to get enjoyment out of it.

“Please tell us you’re single, Marco,” Andy boldly said, looking him up and down behind his glasses that sat perched on the tip of his nose.

Marco laughed and nodded, “Yes, I am single. What about you all? Has anyone here found their soulmate?”

Harry felt a nervous pit in his stomach when Zoey snapped her attention to him with a playful wink and he jokingly rolled his eyes at her before Nancy spoke, “Oh, honey. We can all be single if you want us to be.”

To which Rory coughed, “Except me. I’m the only one taken.”

“You have your pick,” Andy flirted.

“We don’t pick women here in Italy,” Marco laughed again and side-eyed Zoey before turning to her and saying, “but maybe the birthday girl was brought here for a reason.”

Harry watched as Zoey’s eyes widened, blushing, and trying to hide a smile while her friends all whistled at them. Annoyance began to sink in. Why was it that Zoey was always getting hit on? Zoey hardly said a word outside of asking more information on the history of the ancient architecture they visited, why the interest in her? Nancy was practically a model in her own right and Marco clearly got a kick out of her considering the number of times she made him laugh throughout the tour so far. Couldn’t he have gone for her?

“What’s next on our stop?” Harry interrupted, changing the subject.

As they made their ten-minute walk to the Trevi Fountain, their last stop before lunch, Katie and Zoey held hands, talking inaudibly with Marco while Andy and Nancy were behind them confessing their attraction towards their tour guide. Harry and Rory dragged in the back, trying their best to avoid eye contact with passerby’s in case anyone noticed them.

“Think she’ll get his number before we leave?” Rory whispered to him, nodding towards Zoey.

Harry shrugged, “Doubt it. We’re only here for the week.”

“I don’t know. You know her, wanting to be more adventurous and all that. What’s more adventurous than a fling with a hot Italian guy?”

“Skydiving,” Harry said simply.

Aurora laughed, looking over at Harry. But when she noticed he wasn’t joking, her smile faltered, eyeing him a little longer than usual before shaking her head, “Well, we’ll see. Maybe she won’t. Either way, she’s having a great time. I’ve never seen her smile so much. She’s like a little kid in a candy shop. It’s so cute.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, finally grinning, “She’ll definitely remember this birthday.”

The Trevi Fountain was packed with people so they couldn’t stay long in fear of it getting too crazy around Harry, so Marco quickly went over facts and the legend.

“Turn your back to the fountain and with your right hand, throw a coin over your left shoulder. One coin means you’ll return to Rome. Two means you’ll return and fall in love. And three means you’ll return, fall in love, and marry. I’ve got a few coins here for you all,” he passed them each one coin and they all squealed, squeezing their way through the crowd to the very edge of the fountain.

Harry’s been here several times before, and for some reason, this was the part that always seemed to get to him. Out of the hundreds of beautiful buildings and ruins, the Trevi Fountain was always the spot that jerked at his heart. He was the first to throw the coin over his shoulder and stood back to watch the rest of his friends experience this moment. He laughed as Nancy and Zoey screamed at Andy, “Wrong shoulder, you idiot!” after he threw the coin over his right shoulder.

“Fuck! I panicked!” he shouted back.

He watched Zoey take a deep breath, close her eyes, and gently toss her shining coin over her left shoulder, turning just in time to see it ‘PLOP’ right in the water. He saw Marco step up closer to her brandishing another coin and heard him through the busy sounds of the plaza say, “One more. For the birthday girl. Maybe you’ll find love in Rome.”

He felt the heat rise in him, annoyed that Zoey was eating this up. And she wonders why she had such bad luck with guys. These are the type of men that she’s falling for. These typical sleazeballs.

“She better work,” Andy snapped, quietly cheering as she stood beside Harry, following everyone back through the crowd and towards the river to grab some lunch.

Harry had made a connection with the chef of a wonderful restaurant last time he was in town and was invited to bring his friends for a free lunch, to which he refused to not pay, but did kindly ask if it were possible to have private seating towards the back. The chef graciously agreed, sectioning off a spot for them in anticipation of their arrival.

Seeing the relationships Harry had made and the interaction between him and the wait staff made Zoey feel proud to know him. Every time she got to see him talk with a fan or someone that held him on any kind of pedestal always put into perspective for her how famous and admired he was. And to see him always be kind was no matter the circumstance was something that made her want to be a better person. She smiled, watching him converse, shake hands, and take pictures and videos with each worker that came up. He caught her looking and shot her a silly face, which only made her smile more. She was sure that this crush phase would be over at some point, but for now, she just loved the fact that this man was in her life.

Besides, at least there was Marco here to distract her for the day. A tall, smart, handsome Italian? Yes, please! He was very forward, which startled her at first, but once she got used to him she was able to have very nice conversations about interests and even family. He seemed to like how close she and Katie were, expressing that he had a younger brother around the same age whom he was close to.

“How about any older brothers?” Nancy joked, making them all laugh.

The lunch was incredible. She knew authentic pizza would be good, but she was guaranteed to dream about it for years to come. They all sang their praise and thanks to the chef before heading out. Zoey walked beside Marco, teaching them all about the Vatican, and made their way towards the museum. She took this time to look back at the group, seeing Harry and Aurora laughing with each other in the back. He looked happy. She couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous that it wasn’t her back there with him. It was silly to think he’d be over Rory just like that.

As soon as they got into the museum, her worries of Harry and Aurora seemed to float away as she became completely enthralled by the artwork that was displayed on the walls, the mosaics on the floor, and the sculptures that lined the perimeter. The Sistine Chapel was truly magnificent. Lined with Michaelangelo’s frescoes, you couldn’t help but get a little choked up. Nothing could even come close to describing the pure cultivated beauty.

But St. Peter's Basilica was even more wondrous, captivated by the enormity and grandeur of the church and its architecture. The way the light shone through the dome of the church, hitting the beautiful artwork surrounding. Zoey was speechless.

Marco explained, “According to an agreement between the Italian state and the Vatican, Rome cannot build a taller building than the chapel. It guarantees the chapel the most amazing view of all of Rome. But, to get to the top you must walk five hundred and fifty-one steps. There’s an elevator that takes you up almost halfway up to the first terrace, but you’ll have to climb the rest of the way. It’s worth it for the view. Would any of you be up for it?”

“I would,” Zoey immediately agreed, eager to see the view.

“I’ll go,” agreed Harry.

“Nah, my ass is not climbing five hundred steps,” Andy shook his head.

Nancy pouted, “I didn’t wear the right shoes. My feet are killing me.”

“I can take them wandering around and meet you back here in thirty minutes to an hour?” Rory suggested, earning nods from Marco, Harry, and Zoey where they broke off and began their climb.

Admittedly, it was tiring. The steps got tighter as they neared the end and they began to feel slightly claustrophobic from the walls seeming like they were leaning in on them. But by the time they reached the top and stepped out to take in the view they were sold. Marco was right, the climb was worth it. They gripped onto the railing, overlooking the city amongst the other visitors that were too distracted to notice them. Marco had run into a friend of his at the top and excused himself briefly to talk to him, but they were too enthralled to care.

“I cannot believe I’m here and get to see this,” Zoey breathed.

Harry turned to look at his friend who stared out at the view, captivated, with strands of hair flowing in the breeze. He grinned, “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“You don’t understand,” she turned to look at him, almost teary-eyed, “People like me and my sister? We don’t get to go to Italy. We would have never been able to come here if it weren’t for you.”

She was always so genuine and grateful for everything she was given. Even if it was as simple as someone grabbing her a spoon. She must have thanked him over a dozen times for this trip already and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Zoey stared at him and he was at a loss for words, unable to break his attention from her navy blue eyes.

Finally, he managed to build the strength to tease, mocking her, “...are we about to kiss right now?”

She laughed, looking back over the city, “I could kiss you right now.”

He swallowed, frozen, staring at the shape of her plump lips, forced to imagine how soft they might be or what kind of kisser she was. Was it sloppy? Stiff? Calculated? How did she taste? Surely she still had a hint of sauce and cheese in her breath after the pizza they just ate. He wouldn’t mind.

Shit. Maybe his friends were right.

KEEP READING

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Taglist for Somebody To You:

@thurhomish , @stilljosiegrossie , @odetostep , @apples2019 , @stylesmioamore

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