#i was stunned and anways i could go on more but here is just a mini rant
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onlyaphcse · 1 year ago
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I was speaking to someone the other day who said that Kitty was the most boring member of the X-Men, and was in their words "useless" with no skills (like what???)
Anyways just as a reminder, outside of her mutant ability...
Kitty is expert ninja (sure due to a possession by a demon ninja but 1. she survived possession and 2. she still trains)
Kitty being an expert in anything with a sharp or bladed edge. Really good with swords and katanas and knives
Kitty being a computer science genius to the point she was as good and sometimes seen as better with computers than the mutant who could talk to machines
Kitty taking being a genius and taking college classes when she was twelve
Kitty being able to speak Japanese, Russian and the languages of Shi'iar fluently, as well as conversationally in Gaelic, Hebrew, and German
Kitty being a skilled pilot in various aircraft and spacecraft (though okay, never let her behind the wheel of a car)
Kitty being Headmistress of the school! Kitty being leader of the X-Men!
Kitty being the heart of the X-Men. Being an arrogant brat that learns to be better, being a point of human contact between mutants and human
Kitty going back to university to learn and humans trying to kill her for being mutant but she saves those humans.
Kitty being a big reason Magneto started to do good? Kitty being a positive influence there? Helping him out and forgiving him after him almost killing her which was the turning point?
Big bullet going to destroy the earth? Literally no other hero stopping it? Phased the whole thing and sacrificed herself? never talked about again?
She phased the Earth in a way to allow the earths core to destroy a threat in a way that Tony Stark said was impossible
Kitty being able to control the Black Vortex and having god-like powers? She voluntarily gave up that up rather than being possessed?
Kitty having killed the likes of Hulk and Emma Frost in various realities.
Anyways Kitty is a brat and arrogant and sometimes stupid, she can be childish and her love life is a mess. But useless???? No skills???
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mrs-monaghan · 2 years ago
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lol, I can’t believe some people are still hanging on that ideal type question.
1. If you’ve been into kpop for a little bit of time, you know every idol has to answer that question at some point, it’s one of those that’s always been asked. And the answer expected is always a description of the opposite sex. We’re talking about Korea here, it’s not the West, there’s been many discussions about it on this blog, it’s still really conservative.
2. Jungkook was young, he was a fan of IU, he gave her name. That’s what was expected, and it was easy as he didn’t have to elaborate. So what. Now, maybe he did have a crush on her (she’s stunning let’s be honest), but personally I’ve never perceived an ounce of attraction to women when it comes to him. I find him quite obviously gay, but who knows. So I think he just went with an easy answer.
3. I still remember him been asked that same question during their debut days (correct me if I’m wrong) and he said something like his ideal type being a girl with well-balanced muscles who wear oversized clothes, something along those lines. Which made some people go 🤨 because even though he could indeed be into muscular women it’s definitely not a common answer especially when you consider Korean beauty standards, even more so at that time. It was a bit unusual and if I’m not mistaken the members teased him about it in the interview (I need to find it I can’t remember it very well).
4. Has everybody already forget JK insta Q&A and when he got asked who was his fav between two female leads of a k-drama airing at the time (can’t remember the title) and he answered… with the name of the male lead?? I feel like everybody has been ignoring that… though I know some said that he answered that to avoid any rumor… hahahaha as if he wasn’t the one who chose to answer that specific question! They always assume he’s some kind of naive or dumb guy, it drives me crazy.
Anway, I could go on and on and on. In my opinion, if Jungkook was asked that ideal type question thingy nowadays, his answer might surprise us. It would not be gendered, I’m willing to bet on that.
Omg i remember that. Jk really said his ideal type is a girl with muscles
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I won't even mention which member was super muscular at the time
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Oops! I lied. 🤭
And it was Jimin who teased him. He asked JK "so that means I'm your type, right?" Coz like I didn't mention, Jimin was very muscular. And JK got all flustered.
But all this talk about antis shoving JK in this tiny box because they only picture him one way, makes me want to share this compilation of babygirl JK
@daintyykoo where you @? This part gets me everytime
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That's Jimin's man y'all.. so adorable 💅🏽
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stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 1 year ago
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NCT Spooky Season [Day 14]
The Lonely Lovely Mansion
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TW: Ghosts? Genre: Romance, Comedy Pairing: Qian Kun x Reader YN Pronouns: Not specified Word Count: 1.0K Prompt: A casual walk through a haunted mansion
[NCT Masterlist] | [NCT Spooky Season Masterlist] | [Yesterday] | [Tomorrow] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]
Notes: Kun is my ult OKAYYYY Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.
Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!
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"Hey, honey," you leaned into your husband, keeping your voice below a whisper, "I know we really want a house but... there has to be other options."
"No, I agree," Kun nods. You both look at the house in front of you and the realtor slapped on a big smile on her face.
"So, what are we thinking?" She throws her hands up to gesture to the house. "It's very Victorian, so elegant!"
"Yeah," you forced out the enthusiasm and you and Kun both gave weak smiles. "We have to get out of here," you whispered to him.
"I know," he holds you a little closer, "let's just play along for now and then we'll leave," he whispers.
"So!" The realtor opens the door with some difficulty and with a key you were sure was centuries older than you. "This is the foyer," she gestures for both of you to look up and you swallowed harshly when you saw the array of cobwebs hanging off the chandelier. "Oop, looks like the previous owners forgot to get rid of this old thing," she looks at the broken mirror.
"Ahaha," your laugh couldn't have sounded more fake, but she didn't seem to mind.
"Here's the kitchen," she leads you into the next room and you move your foot to avoid the strange puddle of red on the floor.
"How long has it been since the last owners moved out?" Kun asks while eyeing the layer of dust on the stove.
"About sixty years," she nods.
"Wow, I wonder why?" You let Kun move you to a less precarious place as he runs his hand along the large fissure in the wall.
"And, before we forget, the living room is right over this way," the realtor takes you into a larger room and smiles with her hands on her hips as you shriek.
"That's a big ass spider!" You shout.
"It's fine, it'll be gone by the time you both move in."
"What the hell?!" Kun steps back, pulling you with him as the large spider takes notice of you.
"Let me just-" the realtor grabs a plank of wood and slams it over the spider's head, the thing simply being stunned instead of dying. "Anyway, lets go to the second floor," she ushers you out of the room and slams the door shut behind her. "Go ahead!" She urges you to go up the stairs and, as soon as you and Kun took one step on it, you heard the whole thing creak and you swear you heard something break.
"Um..." You looked worriedly around and Kun continued up, testing the floorboards with each step.
"Seems stable," he says.
"Oh, yes, very," the realtor catches her breath and walks past the both fo you. Hesitantly, you followed.
"Here's the main bedroom," she opened the largest door and, well, this whole room screamed haunted, that's for sure, and when the old painting hung inside suddenly fell that only confirmed everything for you. "Whoops! That darn draft," she laughs and closes the door. "Anway, the room next to it here could be a great guest room," she opens the next door to reveal the peeling paint and uneven floorboards in it. "Or..." her voice has a teasing tone to it, "it could also be a nursery," she grins and you and Kun laughed awkwardly.
"You mentioned this house had three bedrooms? I only see the two doors," Kun says.
"Right, right, we kind of have to work for the third bedroom," she says. She gestures for you both to follow her and she stops at the end of the hall, feeling for a certain wall panel before pressing on it and the wall pops open. She pulls on it and you and Kun gasp. "Whoops! Who left this here?" She laughs at the bible hung up by a string in the middle of the room.
"Nope! No, no, no!" You shout and turn around.
"It's a no, sorry, this is far from what we're wanting for a home," Kun explains while you both rush out.
"I know, it's a bit of a fixer-upper," the realtor insists.
"Fixer-upper?! This place should be demolished!" You narrowly avoid the hole in the floor.
"With some TLC you'll be able to make this home amazing!" The realtor keeps going.
"No thank you, we don't have that kind of money," Kun says unlocking the car quickly and waiting for you to get inside first.
"Should I put you both down as a maybe for this house?"
"No!" Your shout was apparent through the window.
"No, not at all," Kun says with a tight-lipped smile. He slides into the driver's seat and floors it.
"Damn it!" The realtor curses behind them. After a short while, you let out the breath you'd been holding.
"She was fucking crazy," you said with disbelief.
"I know... trying to sell us a house like that," Kun shook his head slowly. "Are you okay? You didn't get hurt, did you?"
"No, luckily," you shuddered. "You?"
"I'm fine," he does a quick look through of his hands and wrists. "Not to mention that giant spider, holy..."
"They couldn't have even cleaned a little before bringing us in there?!"
"Exactly! If they wanted that house out of their hair they could've at least put some effort into making it look nicer," Kun groans.
"I'm pretty sure the last owners were murdered there."
"Yup, I was."
Kun slammed on the brake and you both jerked forward, held back by your seatbelts. Nervously, you both turn to each other, before you look up at the rearview mirror, spotting the man who sat in the middle of the backseat. He waves at you.
"Hi," he grins.
"Oh my god!" Your hands covered your mouth and Kun was frozen.
"Finally! Someone who toured that damn house can see me!" The ghost relaxes against the seat. "I'm Yangyang!"
"Whatever was in that house is making me delusional," you covered your eyes.
"Nope! I'm definitely one of the ghosts of that house! And, now that I finally found people who can see me... I'm gonna need you both to make the investment."
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Reacting to: “Finding Celebrían” written by Tumblr user balrogballs
This is a reaction to this wonderful essay, please give the essay a read, and just a note that this is just me writing my rambling thoughts, feelings and reaction to this stunning piece of writing.
Celebrían did not mean much to me the first time I was exposed to the Lord of the Rings, in fact, I didn’t know she existed until I picked up the books for the first time roughly 6 years after I’d first watched the films at age 10. My relationship to Tolkien’s works is once of a long-suffering lover who knows and sees all of the faults, cracks and missing chunks, and forgives it anyway because the rest of it is beautiful and fulfilling, despite its faults. But as I’ve gotten older, and wiser, and more experienced in many different ways, I’ve come to appreciate Tolkien’s cracks and missing pieces, perhaps more so than the pictures that are yet whole to enjoy. Celebrían is one of these missing pieces.
The opening of this essay immediately had me going “yes, agreed”, because I too was expecting so much more when I first found Cel in those Appendices and notes. The emphasis put here on Cel’s torment is such an important thing to hone in on, because in a world where there is such beauty, which Tolkien describes readily, for the wife of such a great elf lord as Elrond to decide that the pain she had endured was so much, and so heavy, and so irreparable, that the better choice was for her to leave the shores of Middle-Earth, and her family, behind. Lovers of lotr and Tolkien’s other works are not unfamiliar with the concepts of torture, war, consequences of actions and of death, but it’s still a striking word to use, especially in the context of the Appendices. Seeing this being pointed out certainly made me feel some sense of relief, that indeed I’m no the only one who sees.
Now, The Fields means something specific to Miss Balls, and this entire segment of the essay had me putting my phone down and willing my gathering tears to chill out and leave so I could keep reading. The tone of this section, as well as the vulnerability, made me pause and reflect on why I was feeling so upset at reading it. What about this was resonating with me? I don’t see myself has having my Field, rather, I have many Fields spread across many places. I did not have a steady Field growing up, and the one that I wish I could return to, the original comfort, is something far-off and distant to me; a hazy remnant of my childhood, so old and wrinkly I can no longer be sure of its cosy details. All of my other Fields however… I start to understand why this section is making me want to scream into a pillow. Most of my other Fields are withered, and they too became things I could no longer stand to look at, though I myself have never even considered the concept of cPTSD being a part of my (already damaged) psyche, but this writing has definitely opened a can of worms that was simply waiting to be found. I’m not sure whether to thank you, or curse you out.
Anway.
Following Cel became a natural pathway to trying to understand what was going on with her, but also what was going on with me. By the time she became a true interest in my life, I was already knee-deep into my own lotr writing project, one that’s been years in the making. Suddenly, I had to think about where Celebrían would fit in this narrative, on what kind of things she might say, or do, or like. How do you write someone who exists only in footnotes? As nothing more than a name in passing, another female tragedy, another missing wife. Like Miss Balls, I tried to find her, and felt cold disappointment when I found little to nothing for my efforts. How awful, to be a part of a world so wonderful and bright and big as Middle-Earth, and still be left behind in the shadows, like so many others. “I couldn’t find her in the story.” - and I could not either.
Now, I quote an entire paragraph, because I must. “But I think that was always what drew me to her, that absence. I didn’t find myself in Celebrían, but in the footnote that gestured to her presence. It wasn’t that I understood her so much as I knew how to decrypt the desperate scratches left behind by someone who drowned on dry land. That was how she and I were truly alike: people who wanted to change the world, or a little part of it, and did, did something good - and had all of it forgotten, crammed into a footnote read with a tender, pitying fret.” - I had a whole paragraph of words lined up when I first read this, hell, I was practically cheering in my seat, going “yes! exactly!” as I felt a connection with the words on my screen, but I think the visual of that reaction alone tells more than I ever could in a measly paragraph. The way Miss Balls writes Celebrían, the joy and craziness, the sweet tooth, everything that makes her her, is born within whatever has been unwritten. Cel is not just what we make of her in writing, but rather what she can be to use outside of it, what she is to the world she lives in. I’ve been finding her in my own writing, her small eccentricities that make her more than a footnote. My Cel hates bees, and she loves the colour purple, and she delights in eating with her hands. When I read “I don’t know, if I’m being honest, whether Celebrían changed me, or if I changed her. Whether change is an instant or a process, whether this version of almost-Celebrían mattered to anyone but myself.” I understand, and I wonder just how many version of Cel are out there - how many of us have read this footnote and decided that she was going to be so much more than what is assumed of her.
For Miss Balls, leaving The Fields is written as this freeing (yet scary) necessity (and feel free to tell me I’m talking bullshit, because at the end of the day, I am just an outsider looking in and reading an essay that makes me feel like my heart is going to implode on itself). And it brings me great joy to read this section in which freedom from the place that you perhaps don’t actually know you want to leave, until all of a sudden, you just know, because yeah, it really do be like that sometimes. I can agree with and understand Celebrían being a guide of sorts, at least mentally, because yes, she would not judge, she would understand and applaud. She would sit both of us down, as we leave our Fields behind, and offer us a (too sweet) glass of lemonade and say ‘it isn’t over yet’ with the kindest smile and a twinkle in her eye. The concept of being a “cracked vessel” applies not just to Cel, but to me as well, and I hated being confronted with that, but it’s a reminder that that is not all you are. And now my words begin to make less sense, so let’s slow it down, shall we?
Miss Balls speaks true; all of us that are sucked in by Celebrían are mirrors of a kind. There is no such thing as one Celebrían, and I don’t think there ever could be. The beauty of loving a character who is nobody, is that she can be everybody. I too had to write Celebrían to find her, or at least my version of her, and all of her idiosyncrasies, some of which are still hidden to me. It doesn’t all have to be said, if fact, I think that most of it goes unsaid, in the ways in which she thinks, and walks, and talks, in the colours that she wears, in the shoes (or lack thereof), in the way she styles her hair… “I look at her now, as she is in my head, and there Celebrían is neither alive nor dead.” - And as Miss Balls looks into her dusty wing mirror, so I do too look in mine. My mirror is not dusty, and it does not belong to me, but it is cracked and holding on by a thread. The girl in that mirror is stuck in some of those Fields, and she looks different in every single one, but just maybe, she can be consoled. I know for a fact that my Celebrían would know what to do.
After note: Miss Balls you make me cry, but I’ve been meaning to read this essay since I first saw you published it. Now that I finally have, I just could not stop thinking, and these thoughts flowed out onto my keyboard with such relative ease (relative mind you compared to whatever my writing capability is at any given moment) that I almost felt like should have bit the bullet days ago. Anyway, I encourage everyone to read the essay, especially if you have any love or feeling toward Celebrían because damn. Damn.
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Finding Celebrían
For Tolkien Meta Week — an essay on autofiction, archives, healing, and why I moved across the country after finding out Elrond Peredhel had a wife. Being an essayist irl, believe me when I say I was thrilled to see @silmarillionwritersguild have the personal essay form as a format for Tolkien Meta Week! Here's something from the heart - warning for discussion of cPTSD and (non explicit) references to violence.
When I first found Celebrían in a footnote, I wrapped up warm and followed, certain she'd lead me to where she truly lived in the text.
By that point, it had been a good decade or so since I first read Tolkien – I had been aware that Elrond had a wife, and assumed she was dead or hung up in some other cold meat locker alongside a procession of wives spanning literary history.
It was only years later that I properly came across her, and blinked, realising she was a cursory line which led to a footnote in Appendix A of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, one which referred to her torment in passing, meant to explain why the sons of Elrond and to an extent Elrond himself, were the way they were. 
Fridging was one thing, but torment was another entirely, I thought — and so casually! Tea and torment in the Third Age, tra-la-lally traumatised into "losing all joy" in Middle-Earth and leaving the year after, taking ship to Valinor and leaving behind a grieving family. It was simple curiosity, really, until it turned into a cold, familiar grasp: the clear-cut knowledge of exactly what sort of torment it would have been, that drove away the wife of a noble lord living in what was very clearly described as being one of the last great sanctuaries in a ravaged realm. 
But to understand why The Footnote stopped me in my tracks, I need to tell you about The Fields. 
When I speak of The Fields (which are of course not really fields and neither are they called The Fields anywhere but here), I refer to one of the most beautiful spots in the country. The Fields combined the peaceful pastoral with quaint urban charm, rustic without being remote, safe without being detached. I lived in The Fields for several years, and made a little life for myself that grew into something bigger. 
I had been an activist in The Fields — moved from scrappy student to card-carrying revolutionary — and I did it because I loved where I lived very, very much, enough to think I could kiss it better. And I was good, I was! I belonged on the stage in that sense, I was invited to panel after panel, talk after talk, and I stood on little podiums that grew alongside me. I knew how to carry myself, present myself, leveraged my palatability and conventionality in return for rights and bare-minimum environmental reparations. 
Such wonders, of course, came with a cost I hadn’t foreseen — an incident, a couple really, that tossed a diagnosis of cPTSD into my lap and turned my lovely home into The Fields. And because I had been so good at presenting myself and clambering on podiums with shiny hair, the incidents became the talk of the town, and I in turn very quickly became a subject, the walking, talking cost of resistance. 
A feature of cPTSD, one that sets it apart from PTSD, is the overarching dullness with which the emotional flashbacks grasp you. Not like being plucked off the surface of the earth by a monstrous thing, but rather drowning quietly in sludge you never realised was beneath your feet in the first place. There was never a thing that terrified me about The Fields, it was only ever a quiet, creeping mass taking over everything, and in being so — easy to ignore and disguise. 
I love The Fields, I told myself, even after. I loved The Fields, even though life had turned into air and static, and I had turned into an unfeeling thing. I lived in the middle of that little city but felt as though I was in a small hut on no-man's land, or a joint security area, suspended between towers. I couldn't stand the wonderful hills and valleys, so I tried my hardest to cling onto the reasons I loved them, tried to medicate them back into my heart with the forcefulness of a pacemaker. I shoved things down throats and up noses, walked back onto all those stages, turned myself into an electric hearse chasing a long-dead dragon. I would walk around The Fields on some nights, very cold and very young, the bleached bones left behind by something very promising. 
Can you see why I stopped still at Appendix A, at Celebrían? I tried to follow her, and see where her story began, and what wonders it would end in, because if Celebrían's story ended in wonder then maybe, there might be a chance, perhaps….. 
It would be easy, I thought, I was a writer, a journalist, a researcher - I trained in asking questions and knowing things, even sticky, stunted, back-of-the-throat things that you'd rather not catch sight of in a mirror. The History of Middle Earth book sets were ordered, fresh copies of all the old texts, magnifying glasses held over Unfinished Tales. 
I’d been so certain I would find her. That Celebrían would ramble across page after page, legs dangling over the edge and an indolent expression fizzing on her face. She would be stubborn and glorious and righteous in her fervor to change the world. I would find her in the flesh, and then no longer would I stand in The Fields each night, hollow-eyed, self-haunting spectre holding myself thrall to a single series of events in what has been, objectively, a lovely, loving life.
But a full month went by, and all I found was footnote after endnote after cursory mention, almost all of them clothing her in torment, growing stiff and sharp against the tooth of the page: vicious, like a blade angled backwards. For Celebrían and I, the richest text in the world turned into a landscape of loss. 
What a wonderful, rich, textured world you have!
All the better to swallow you whole, my dear. 
I couldn't find her in the story. I spent weeks and weeks on her, and I couldn't find her in the story and by then I had already fancied myself and Celebrían to be counterparts, like if she laughed, I would laugh too, like if she ran, then I would run too, and if she was lost, then… well. I suppose it shows the power of an enduring text. I had a PhD, at that point I had just gotten my publishing deal through, I'd spoken on all those podiums and done all those real-world, adult things, and still I was not immune to the indulgent tether of a good old self-insert. And then it turned out we were not counterparts but rather more akin to co-morbidities, that The Footnote and its friends were all I would ever know of Celebrían. 
It was summer, I remember, but my hands were cold — autopsy-fingers, my partner called them. Archive-fingers, autopsy-fingers, scrabbling around to find nothing, no indication as to how Celebrían's story truly ended and why I was the person I was. The texts shifted uneasily under my hands, like the Professor himself was turning out his pockets and shrugging, reminding me that it was neither Celebrían's nor my story, not really. Pointed me back to The Footnote like it was a pacifier, and still I turned in circles like a dog chasing its tail, looking for other instances of her name. I found nothing. I began to fear that I had wasted my life.
The Footnote started to blur across weeks, and soon it turned itself into My Footnote. The one I had found, a year or so before the hunt, in a fantastic, recently published book that spoke about activism in The Fields, where I came face to face with myself. But there, I hadn't been standing on a podium or being interviewed or writing pressure pieces or anything I had really, truly done, but I was instead a single footnote — condensed into the things that had happened to me, as opposed to the things I had made happen. As the months went on, I looked for references to myself in new books, newspapers, magazines — and I would find myself, but in the same scrap of footnote, wearing the same costume of torment, tragic poster children of a violent world. 
I sat there looking at the thousands and thousands of pages in the legendarium, the stack of books on things I had worked upon, statutes I had pulled down and little laws I had changed. And then at the scraps of Celebrían and I, reduced to scribbles and crossing outs in the margins. It was like we never lived at all. It seems a rather childish reaction, perhaps, to not finding the story you want in a book you bought. Still, that afternoon, when I put down the last page of HoME I had access to, I crawled into bed and stayed there for a very long time, trying very hard to not touch even the bedclothes around me.
But I think that was always what drew me to her, that absence. I didn't find myself in Celebrían, but in the footnote that gestured to her presence. It wasn't that I understood her so much as I knew how to decrypt the desperate scratches left behind by someone who drowned on dry land. That was how she and I were truly alike: people who wanted to change the world, or a little part of it, and did, did something good — and had all of it forgotten, crammed into a footnote read with a tender, pitying fret. 
But that's not canonical, is it? Yes, her absence shaped the story of the Ring War in certain regards. But who said Celebrían, Celebrían the Person, not Celebrían the Footnote — had ever changed anything, let alone the world in which she lived?
Simple – I did.
My Celebrían was a complete nutcase. I wrote her as a daughter born to a borderline-squirrel of a wood elf, who herself hated small creatures with a passion. I had her take off her shoe and beat earwigs to death, had her talk the ear off a perpetually grieving mother, irritate a kinslayer into planting a pine forest, and threaten the High King with a shovel. She would shove cotton in her ears to block out her husband's snoring, and put four teaspoons of sugar in her tea. She bribed her sons to dispose of a snake, and demanded magical healing for a little scrape on her forehead. 
I cut her into familiar shapes: the shape of someone who spent months unable to bear the slightest touch, whose loved one slept on the floor beside the bed, clinging to a listless hand dangled off the side. The shape of a small house in a forest, and the shape of a wonderful ending, in which she truly did change the world in all the ways she could. I don't know, if I'm being honest, whether Celebrían changed me, or if I changed her. Whether change was an instant or a process, whether this version of almost-Celebrían mattered to anyone but myself. I knew one thing though — my Celebrían is a thousand footnotes long, and counting. 
Footnotes, like most things in the archive, are of course caging things: keeping unpalatable violence in the past, or at least elsewhere, keeping the here and now good and quiet. It's easier to outsource healing and rediscovery to other places, to archives and museums and books and Valinor. Was being a footnote a punishment? What’s worse, being pickled wrongly or never being pickled at all? Was this yet another installment of the cautionary tale stretching all the way through time and reality from Celebrían to me; footnotes about women who held themselves thrall to the memory of violence, who lived as well as they could, till they couldn’t? Would it have been better if she never existed at all?
I don't know. All I know for certain is this: at some point between finding Celebrían and writing her, I moved out of The Fields and across the country.
It had been a long time coming. But for years, I had thought I would weather living in The Fields because even after the Torment, the Footnote, the Diagnosis, I never felt a disconnect from the place, because I was still extroverted and irritating and fizzing with the desire to stay in the Fields and love it, as I had always done. And then suddenly, I wanted to run.
It wasn't as if Celebrían burned The Fields down, leaving me there to watch flames eating its flat, starless sky. But what she did was this: carefully take off my rose-tinted glasses, and say run —- this earth has swallowed you whole. 
I had assumed it was my fault, my attachment to The Fields, that I was looking at things wrong, that I was maintaining unhealthy attachments to sites of trauma, prioritising the wrong perspectives, the body keeps an atlas and all that. But Celebrían did not call me crazy. Celebrían was not the kind of person who would ever call you crazy. She was the kind of person who would lay in a wide-open field beside you and ask you what you were looking at. 
And when you say "oh, just up at the big sky", she wouldn't probe. She would know exactly what you mean when you didn't say "-- because there is nothing ahead of me", and she wouldn't say a word about how the ground around you was soft with decay, reeking like a corpse, that you were caught in the straggling grass of its hair. 
She would instead shrug, wink, and point you towards Gollum, because of course she would. She would tell you that Tolkien, ever the Catholic, had drawn out a perfect depiction of what might have happened if Lazarus was left in that cave. And then she would say, run, for god's sake, girl, run, and you would. I did!
How stubbornly we all cling to the idea of staying fixed until being fixed, to the idea of a ready-made Valinor to sail to if we do well enough at life, stay still enough in the margins! How faithfully we believe that if you spend enough time being a very, very good cracked vessel, maybe one day you might feel the quiet triumph of bearing water again. Celebrían, not the Celebrían of The Footnote but my Cel, the manic pixie freakshow of Imladris, said shut the fuck up and run. That it was no use hungering for the impossible and thumbing listlessly though footnotes, and to instead run, and run, and start digging a garden at the ground you come to a stop at because it is only in new soil that something gentle could unfold unbidden. That as time passes, you will belong less and less to the ground you left behind and more and more to the ground you walk upon, to the new trees and new hills around you, to those who love you still.
Run! she said. How alive you looked, hunting for me. How badly you craved my story. See? There are still stories you crave. You are still human enough to crave. Run! 
I think many of us who love this brief, inexorable footnote of a Celebrían, whether we read her or write her, are bound by a similar truth: that in her we caught sight of something within ourselves. All around the world, these tiny, unflinching mirrors in Appendix A and the rest, tie together and create a hundred different Celebríans, all part of the same thread, each version carrying its own burden, though rarely do we ever acknowledge it in each other. It's a quiet nod, an unspoken connection, a reminder that we are all more alike and less alone than a cursory footnote might imply.
To find Celebrían, I had to write her. And in turn, she wrote me in her image. I look at her now, as she is in my head, and there Celebrían is neither alive nor dead. No, what is most clear in my mind is a girl in a dusty wing mirror, a life packed into boxes, sunglasses sliding down her nose. One hand sandwiched in an ordnance map, prying the pages open, hurtling at a perfectly legal speed down an M-road, The Fields growing smaller, and smaller, and smaller in the rearview mirror. Not gone, not truly, but invisible to the naked eye, unless you know exactly where to look. A grain of sand in a bucket of water, a single, sad-looking fish half-buried on a tropical beach. A finger to the past, a wave from a window, a footnote in an appendix. 
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1d1195 · 4 months ago
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First of all bestie you could NEVER make me hate you especially over a silly hairstyle! And if people end be up hating on you for that… that’s not it lol also this is gonna part 1 of my ramble 😭
ANWAYS I’m in constant conflict with how I feel about that mullet HAHA at first I was like “a mullet?! WHY?” But then I saw the vision and kinda liked it😔 and rn I’m not sure tbh! BUT I’m not sure if it’s bc he’s HARRY and I’m just kind “blinded” by finding him attractive in general lol bc he’s definitely hot no matter what in my eyes so idk lol plus I fear I’m so use to seeing so many people have mullets (I guess it’s trendy now?!) that maybe I’m just not as big of a hater as I use to be lol btw I LOVED the visuals you gave! That tattoo roulette pic has me STUNNED the first time I saw it! And I kinda love you’re not an automatic lhh lover🤭 though I am a fan of when he had a middle part, like for when he did SNL so idk about my opinion lol
I simply am lowkey sick of my phone lately so idk wtf is going on lol though I love polls! It’s interesting what people are thinking! I genuinely don’t remember exactly what was the last poll I got to vote on but I remember clicking on a Sun kissed option and I was in the minority of votes 😭
SAM YOURE GONNA KILL ME WITH THAT BREEDING KINK!!! I will simply cease to exist whenever we get to meet that Harry😵‍💫 I truly love how you write your Harry’s like i simply can’t!!! And bestie I love when a man is begging and just groveling on the FLOOR for forgiveness!! Very excited 😌
Omg you’re of course one of those people!! Honestly I would have been more surprised if babies WEREN’T drawn to you lol I’m sure it’s just a vibe you give off like babies can see your pure and sweet heart! In another universe you most likely would have had your Honey moment or like a daycare moment! And omg that’s absolutely such an adorable moment and such a good concept 😭
Financial anxiety is so REAL! Especially since you mentioned how growing up it impacted you a lot! And growing up poor too, i totally get it!! It’s a very conflicting feeling lol
Omg bestie you don’t even KNOW how obsessed I was with fucking true crime and like paranormal stuff growing HAHAHA the true crime stuff now terrifies me now bc HELLO?!? But honestly some of these murder mystery books I got to reread again are kinda still a slay lol but the pottery stuff I got really into it in middle school and lowkey stopped reading it when the pandemic hit lol anyways finished sorting out some books so I will be donating them later this week!
Agree about the AC!! Growing up in school there was NO AC and we had to constantly suffer with the heat waves! Girl you’re like a young millennial which makes sense you would be drawn to that aesthetic and there’s nothing wrong with it! If it makes you happy then there’s no harm!
I always get so sad/worried when my dogs are slightly off bc I love them 😭 When I tell you the first thing encounter I had with my finaid office I fucking CRIED! Had to wait on a fuck ass zoom for almost two hours only for a MAN to tell me it was my fault(it fucking was a mistake on their end) and to just get loans and a payment plan was my HELL!!! My mom had to calm me down it was so embarrassing lol Anyways I loved that you gave that feedback and honestly very you and I love that!
I actually decided to shorten the black dress to like my mid thigh!! Sounds short but I’m not tall so it will look somewhat okay lol and the second one is actually a dark blue dress that shimmers when it hits a certain light! It looks black but it’s actually blue and I’m excited to wear it! That one will be slightly above the knee! And maxi dresses are cute! And I bet they look cute on you!!
Hope you had a lovely weekend! Hope it was restful and fun! ALSO I hope your week is starting well!! LOVE YOU!!!-💜
I'm putting a cut here because I wanted to warn anyone else that reads our pen pal letters that I'm going to talk about audio porn a little lol what an ENTRANCE to this message idk if you'll even be able to tell where my train of thought came from to introduce it like this 😂
Number one--obsessed with two part asks hehehe I love this for us. SAW THE VISION. I'm glad you saw it I haven't 💀 I think I def have this blindness as well but it's so trendy rn and I'm just NOT hear for it. If my bf got a mullet I would shave his head tbh. I just think his hair looked stringy and needed a wash and I haven't forgiven him for that 😭 I wash my hair every day because Harry and I actually have very similar hair and if I don't wash it every day it gets so greasy and gross (and before anyone comes for me I KNOW it's because I wash it every day 🙃 but I can't do it. I just feel better when I shower so what am I going to do? I do so little for my own self care ANYWAY)
I LOVE polling everyone. I think it's so helpful 😭 and I agree, knowing what everyone thinks really helps inform my decision and focus to write.
HEHEHEHE you may have already met that Harry Not to out myself here but I recently downloaded Quinn which is audio porn and it's *mwah* chef's kiss. It's giving me all kinds of ideas for Harry and I like to find the audios where the guy is all worshippy of the girl. Honestly, I don't even listen to it for the porn part I'm just here for the plot 😂 there's a couple brother's best friend's ones that have me salivating to write something. I'm AMPED.
I think in another life I probably will open a day care. I should have just taught elementary school the way the gods probably intended me to but alas. Knock on wood my group is... don't want to jinx it but I will say I'm not exhausted right now (at least not from teaching).
I'm not tall either so I get it. I love a shimmery dress! That sounds so nice! I've been getting tons of compliments on all my clothes recently so I like to believe I might be figuring out my own sense of style. Even the kids notice and think I look cute which is not the point but I think it's nice they notice because a lot of these kids are so trendy and adorable. One of my students from a couple years ago should have won best dressed. She could have worn a trash bag to soo. She was so adorable and I would ask for her opinion about what I should wear to chaperone prom/homecoming 😂
I hope you NEVER have to talk to financial aid ever again 💕
I had a slightly busy but good weekend. I was very productive and I'm trying to keep pace because I fear October is going to be busy as hell 🙃
I hope your week is going well too 💕 LOVE YOU!
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sweetsbfreex · 4 years ago
Text
my baby, my baby
brought to u by me watching IW for the millionth time
Summary: You ask Steve for one thing before the fight against Thanos (IW), but for the first time in however long he denies you of fulfilling this wish.
Warnings: language?
Pairing: Nomad, Bf!Steve x thanos daughter!reader
-
He was manning the quinjet, not all the way true. Sam was flying the jet to Wakanda, Steve slumped in his seat beside Sam, in deep thought. His chin is set into his palm, his arm sitting up on the armrest, and his palm covering half of his mouth. Looking further down his leg was jittering steadily.
What would happen next was a pretty big deal, none of you on the jet knew what could go wrong. So obviously tensions were at an all time high in this cooped up jet. 
You rise up from your seat between Wanda and Nat. Walking yourself behind Steve’s chair. Your pointer finger taps his embellished shoulder, separating him from his apprehensive thoughts. He looks up at you and the creases that were once prominent in his forehead evaporated. 
You don’t utter anything, only nudging your head behind you. 
Follow me to the back.
Is what’s reciprocated when he too gets up from his seat, letting Sam know he’ll be up front in a second. Once you turn, he follows you down the small aisle to the side “room” away from all the prying ears. 
Finally.
You step into the room first. You weren't going to lie, your heart was beating with so much force and it only grew as he walked past you into the room. You close the door behind you, turning, so you're facing Steve's attentive figure. 
You only smile at him to some extent, prompted to show there were no ill intentions to asking him back here. When you see how nervous he looks, as you take his hand seating the both of you to a bench against the wall.
Your knees tenderly touch. He clears his throat coercing you to go on, raising an eyebrow in confusion. 
“You alright doll?” he asks you, in a gentle manner. Taking the already linked palms shifting it from your lap to his. His other hand blanketing your combined hands. 
“I’m okay. Are you?” you ask the question hesitantly, raising your spare hand to move aside the hair that fell over and veiled his eyes. You desperately wanted to make sure you got a good look at his face. You loved his face.  
His cheeks go plump in a charming smile, and his hand squeezes yours back. 
His hair was long. Longer than you would’ve ever imagined Steve would let it be. Either way you loved every inch of the gold locks. Yet, everytime you told him how much you loved it, despite his insecurity and slight annoyance with it. He'd always fall into a rampage down memory lane. Telling you how his late mother would've hounded him about the upkeep of his hair.  
You adored that about him too. Loved, that he loved so hard and so full. He’d never forget the ones he loved no matter what. 
“I’m swell, you don’t need to worry about me” he tells you. 
You didn’t believe him one bit and you weren’t going to push him about it. You knew how he was...stubborn as ever. But, it was also ,by and large, your job to worry about him–– after loving him of course. Contrary to what he would say (Which was vice-versa.)
“We’re gonna be okay...okay? But I have something to ask you. And you can’t get mad.”
“I’m not promising that, but we won’t shout. We’ll talk it out–– whatever it is”
It was the best you were going to get from him and time was closing in on you guys being able to be like this, anway.  
“I know how you are, but this is a really critical thing we're fighting for here. So, unless I'm in some type of grave danger. I don’t want you worrying about me on the field. No matter what...Make sure he doesn’t get that stone.” Your voice lets you down towards the end, starting to get scratchy and low. 
He stands up in no time. His hands going to his belt, then to his hips, he finally raises one hand to run against his beard.
His facial hair, another thing in the endless things you loved about Steve Rogers. 
When the stubble he usually shaves away kept growing into a full beard, it surprised you both. You in a hot kind of way, he became more adoring by day when decided to stop shaving. 
You walked in on him one day. He was facing the scratched up mirror in a bathroom in a dingy hotel room. Running his fingers against his face, the other clutching onto the edge of the counter. Tilting his head back and to, eyes shifting as he looked over his face. It was another part of the effect of the serum he didn’t expect would happen. 
Telling you a story as he wandered down memory lane again. How he had problems growing stubble as a sickly kid–– so behind on puberty. He even watched Bucky grow his first “stache” at sixteen, but that came to an abrupt stop when Bucky’s mother made him shave it off. 
Steve thought It was weird to think that he could now also.
You were still sitting on the bench. Swiveling your body so you were facing your boyfriend, looking up at his fidgeting build with care. 
Feeling like a child waiting for their parents to dispute whatever impending punishment they would grant. 
“Why would you ask me that?” he finally, finally disrupts his silence. Scoffing at the offensive question. 
He doesn’t look at you with anything negative, only confusion.
“Because. I don’t want you jumping in front of whatever it is in front of me...I know him, he’s my dad. He’ll do anything to get what he wants, even if it means I die.”
When Steve told you that it was actually Bruce calling and told you what he said. He looked at you baffled when the shirt you were about to put on dropped from your grasp.
Once you told him you had knowledge of Thanos and how you knew him, there was a pregnant silence in the air.
If anything it filled the rage towards Thanos in Steve even more, by the time you finished. 
“Are you listening to yourself?” he questions you in disbelief, lips stuck in a sneer.
“Please. Just please, angel.” you maintain.  
You don’t answer either of his questions and he truly hates that. He stays silent for a bit watching your seated figure, looking up at him with the saddest eyes you’ve ever given him. His puzzled eyes shift down to your bobbing leg and your hands wringing together with so much speed and anguish.
He could probably throw up right now.  
And when he shifts his eyes up again, you keep that same look on your face waiting for him to say anything.
He sighs dejectedly, dropping his hands to his side, and walking himself back over to you. He sits closer to you than before. Extending a gloved hand to caress your cheek before fixing the flyaways from your sleek ponytail.  
“I can’t. You’ll always be my priority, and I won’t promise something like that sweetheart” he tells you this languidly. His thumb starts to rub circles against your cheekbone, to calm you down, when he catches the way your eyes widen at his admission.  
“Steve!” your voice breaks. So shocked, you can’t hold back the tears that build up and fall slowly over your face. 
You couldn’t believe this. He’s supposed to love you. Time and time again he’d always remind you how much he loves you and how he’d do anything for you–– too hard to say no to you, his words. Thinking this over you pull your face away from his hold, looking down at your taut hands. This wasn’t a silly death wish. You had to make sure your father didn’t get what he desired, no matter what. 
He hates having to watch you cry, but he doesn’t have much of a choice now. He needs to stand his ground, there was no way he would be arguing about this. And he does this, grabbing your face with a light hand,  so you were face to face again. 
"I love you so much. And if I have to choose between letting you die and Thanos losing. Or you living and watching the universe crumble, you know exactly what I'm gonna choose. I'm not losing you, not if I have anything to do with it"
Albeit how dumb it sounded, there is no notable instance in his life where’d let you perish over him. 
“You’re not thinking this through” you hiccup.
“It’s you, isn’t it? There’s not much to think about”  he smiles at you and as you look at him you can see his eyes glazing over. 
His statement only causes you to cry more. You feel nothing but the pain in your heart and the repositioning of your body. It takes you a moment to realize you’re settled on his thighs sideways. His well built arm warmly wraps around your shoulder, your temple rests against his shoulder, and his lips are placing light kisses to the crown of your head. 
You incline your head, “I love you too much” you say in an awed whisper, raising a hand to twirl in the strands at the back of his collar. Following that, you let your hand spread across the back of his neck pulling him down for a kiss.
“After this we’re done okay? We have our pardon and are going to buy whatever house you want to get. I’m gonna buy you the prettiest engagement ring money can buy, Gonna get whatever animals you want,” you chuckle at that part.
If there was one thing Steve learned while living incognito with you is that you’d save any animal if you were able to. Always stopping whenever you passed by any animal in need in the drary streets. Looking up at Steve, who’d always have to remind you that neither of you could give it the life it deserves right now. Opting to only go to the nearest convenience store to buy whatever safe animal food in sight. 
His hand immediately clutches your face to wipe away the tears that fell without pattern. His smile grows fonder when you do the same.  “‘Can paint the house whatever we decide...maybe even get a house big enough to fit the kids we’ll have?” he tells you the last part in such a timid manner, bearing one of his hands to clutch yours. His thumb running over your knuckles at full tilt. 
The only thing you were able to give him was a stunned look. So shocked you were unable to react like a normal person. 
You squeeze his hand tight only being able to stutter a “really?”
“Of course. I want to have a bunch of small Rogers with you, wreaking havoc around our house” he admits this to you, carrying out such strong eye contact. If his hand didn’t slither down your back, supporting you up and grounding you, you’d jump in glee. 
Fuck. Neither of you had talked about this, but you were glad that you both were on the same page about his. You felt terrified but in a good way, wanting to wholly get this over with and start this dream life with Steve. 
“And this is all gonna happen, because everything is going to go well. We’re gonna win, I don’t want you thinking like that or asking me something like that ever again. Thanos will never be on our list of priorities ever again.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I can’t wait to start that life with you” you respond, winding your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his with force.
He pulls away without notice to place hasty kisses to your cheek, loving the giggles you emitted. Even so, the energy in the room shifts too soon when Sam knocks on the door. Steve allows him entrance. 
“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re about to land Cap”
Steve responds by nodding his head once, stiffly. Letting him know he’d be out in a second. 
You get off of his thighs, so the both of you were standing chest to chest. He claps your worried face. Pulling you into him with little force, so his lips could fall to your forehead, nose, and lips. 
“Remember what I said and be safe, I love you”
“I love you” you recite, bringing his hand down to kiss his covered palm.
With that he envelops you in his arm, his cheek resting against the top of your head. Both of you breathing each other in. Your shoulders relaxing at his loving touch. 
He’d do whatever needed to keep you safe and if it ended in his death, then so be it. You’d do the same for him in a heartbeat, there was no point in either of you arguing this one out. 
––––
Everyone was tired, it seemed like this fight only dragged on with the never-ending monsters. But, with the help of Thor (of course) it seemed like things were only getting positive from there. With the way he rendered lightning, destroying things into dust, you were ready to end this once and for all.  
And when a cloud of grey smoke appeared out of thin air, and a large titanian appeared. You knew this would either be the ending or the beginning of all these troubles. 
“That’s him” you falter, turning to Steve. You give him a quick once over, nothing the way he eyed your father. A menacing, scary look on his face and the furrow of his eyebrows only grow. 
“We have eyes on Thanos” he says into the intercom.
It’s like time stands still for a few seconds, no one moves a muscle. You haven't seen this man in years. You feel as if he doesn't recognize who you are as he glances over everyone, like they're roaches in his kitchen. 
Yet, in a blur, everyone takes their chance on Thanos. Trying their hardest to somehow, someway take this Titanian down. Bruce gets thrown with a shout, Branches entwine Nat, and Sam drops from the air smoothly. 
At some point you hear the grunt of Steve, who somehow gets some punches in, his hands clutching the gauntlet. He shouts from the hefty weight and in a swift motion is stock-still on the ground from the punch he endures. 
“Steve!”
Without a choice you run towards Thanos, your adrenaline kicking in. Kicking in punching only to use your hands to grasp around the metal. You knew towards the end; you were no match for him. 
“Please! Please don’t do this. Dad please I’m begging you” you plead profusely, but he only looks down at you emotionless. “Please, please, please” you cry, your head hangs low for a bit before you raise it up again. “This won’t fix anything! You–– you…JUST TAKE IT OFF” you scream, knuckles colliding with the gold.
You try so hard to think of anything to turn his mind, but he only looks at you like a stranger. Not the little girl he recruited and used to look at with some kind of affection. His type of affection, if you could even title it that, affection. 
Sure, he raised you to be a ruthless killer and thief, but you’d do anything in this key moment to change his crooked mind. 
“You don’t get to call me that again. You chose your path...I always knew you’d be the one to let me down the most” he says all this with so much venom. 
You cry as you're lifted in the air, by his gauntlet hand, and thrown against the bark of a tree. 
You're in a daze. The only things securing you back is the hand against your cheek and a booming, choked up "no". Hearing it a distance away.
You open your eyes to see Steve in front of you, your name on his lips almost incessantly. But when you open them, your eyes quickly move to Thor. Who’s a few feet away from the two of you, shocked and angry. The remnant of smoke in the air. You knew he did it.
“We lost?” you ask Steve, tears already forming in your eyes, as he carefully lifts you to his feet.
He doesn’t get the chance to answer you, though. 
“Steve…?” It’s Bucky, You both look towards him to see him fall slowly, disappearing into a brown dust. 
You both look on, shocked all while Steve tries to drag himself and your weak body to Bucky. But it’s already too late. 
“Buck?!” Steve calls out, but there’s no answer.
You watch on in disorder, stomach plummeting with every second that pasts.  Your eyes catch Wanda looking onto Vision's body in sorrow and as you do, she turns into brown dust.  It was frightening and you were speechless. So much happening around you, you weren’t sure where to look. You weren’t who was going away. 
The hand against your spine, holding you up, starts to feel faint and a headache you had suffered from earlier comes back, but ten times stronger. 
“My head hurts” you tell him, your words come out slowly as your mouth starts to feel numb. You drop your head to his shoulder. “Stevie...I can’t feel your hands” you blubber, chest heaving as your breathing picks up. Everything was happening so, so fast. 
He lifts your head, “Hey, you’re alright sweetheart, you took a hard hit. Just a bit banged up, gotta stay awake in case it’s a concussion” he reassures you.
You don’t believe him and when you look down at your right hand to see it crumbling away little by little. You lift your wrist up, hand gone. You look down to see the brown dust below your view. 
You didn’t want to go. You had merely planned your dream future with him. It wasn’t fair your father would be the one to rip that away from you.
“No. No, you’re alright, stop that” he condemns, bringing your other hand to his bruised lips imperatively. Watching as it climbs up and up, half of your shoulder  already gone. 
“I’m scared. I love you so much Steve”
“I love you so much doll, feel like we’ve been saying it all day” he tries to joke, eyes roaming all over your face. He had to make sure he had your face recognized to a t, even if it was in a manner of pain. 
And you do the same. You weren’t sure where you were going. Were you even dying?! You couldn’t tell, all you knew was Steve and some of your friends wouldn’t be where you were going.
You laugh despondently, low, and mirthlessly knowing how much he needed that laugh at the moment.
“No. I’m gonna––” you start, but never get to finish, because at that moment. In a flash, he’s left with the sight of the soot falling in a sway, like leaves tumbling to the ground. Staring at him gloved palms to see nothing of you there any longer. 
He does nothing but stand there for a few minutes, recollecting the exchange. Not only was his best friend gone, but so was his best girl.  
He had one fucking job. Keep you safe at all times. Not only did he let the whole universe down, he let you down. You were gone. He can only think about the moment you both had on the jet, telling you, you had nothing to worry about. Because you guys were going to win and now she is gone.  He let you down in the worst possible way imaginable. You were gone…
He repeats this to himself, losing hope each time that you would be back in just a second. 
He turns around to see his friends observing him and once he notices that Sam is no longer among the group it only increases his agony. 
“Cap?” Nat mumbles.
“FUCK!” he breaks. Ripping the gloves off his hand before he sets himself against the ground–– his body feeling heavy. His head is in his hand, body heaving roughly as he cries quietly.
Everyone is stunned and takes a step back to give his face, not remembering the last time they’ve seen him this broken or the last he’s had an outburst resulting in a curse word. 
He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to live with this guilt or without you by his side. In spite of that,  there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to try and find a way to bring you back.
– – – – 
realized while writing thing i am not creative...this (beginning) was literally a scene
if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3
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another-stark-sub · 4 years ago
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Can you do Tony and shy virgin reader having their first time for smutty sunday/saturday?? Thanks :)
Ok i got two addituonal requests for virgin!reader, so here we go. 18+stuff ahead!
So... you told Tony you were a virgin
"I understand this may be a bit of a surprise. You can react however-"
"It is. A surprise, I mean." He smiled and rubbed your arms. "Look at you, right? I could imagine you meeting some nice guy in college. Maybe he cooked you some ramen and the two of you just thought-"
"Tony," you chastised.
"Or maybe you and your best friend just wanted to get it over with. Explore maybe-"
"Tony!" You pulled him closer and laid your head on his chest. "You're ridiculous."
He hummed and patted your head. "Hey, I love you, ok?" His arms tightened around you. "Even if you've only gone as far as porn."
"...I hate you."
He laughed a little and kissed your head.
On the topic of sex, you two have talked about more than a few times after revealing your virginity. Tony wanted to plam the whole thing. Candles, music, new bed, all of it.
You... weren't so keen on that. When Tony says he was gonna get you something new, that meant everything would be bought. And he has expensive taste.
So the plan was it would be spontaneous and that you'd have to initiate it. Tony was very clear that he would only move forward with you if you told him to.
So, on a stay-cation with him in Malibu, you two were fooling around in bed when you told him, "I'm ready, by the way." A few kisses, still caught up in it, before Tony pulled away. "Wait, what?"
You laughed and nodded. "I'm ready." You stroked his cheeks. "I love you, and I don't wanna wait any longer."
He looked around. The bedroom was messy, and he was still in sweatpants and an old undersirt. "Right now?"
"If you'll have me?" You laughed.
You has a bit of a bedhead and your legs were not shaved, but god his eyes still darkened and he still took you in as if you were from the heavens themselves. "Of fucking course I'll have you."
He surged forward, pushing you back as he began kissing you. You let out a squeal of his name, but reciprocated the kiss anway.
Clothes started coming off in a random order until the two of you were under the covers, naked and just feeling how each other felt.
When Tony started going down your body, you started closing in on yourself. What were you thinking? Doing it spontaneously? Who cared if Tony bought a whole new bed? He spends too much anyway. Why were trying to curb it?
"Honey?" Suddenly, he was back on top of you, kissing you softly. "What's wrong? You wanna stop?"
"Kinda," you offered. "My legs." You glanced down at them. "They're not, uh, very pretty right now." You tried to laugh it off. Humor was a great way to cope after all.
Tony furrowed his brows. "Look, if yoh wanna stop, we'll stop. But my legs are hairier than yours. Would you mind?"
You laughed. "No."
"What about my face?" He stretched out his neck and made serveral weird facial expressions. "Unshaved. Should I shave it?"
"No."
"And you?" He nuzzled his nose against yours. "Stunning. Plus, your eyes go really wide when I kiss you anywhere below your neck. Very sexy of you."
You laughed. "You have a weird definition of sexy."
"What can I say? You're my type."
The laughter only increased as he nuzzled his face in your neck and playfully left kisses there and down your body.
It wasn't until he started kissing down your stomach that your giggles turned to sighs and whines.
"Can I keep going?"
You nodded, and Tony lowered his head between your thighs. He looks so dazed. "God, you're beautiful," were the last words he said before diving in and licking your lower lips. He explored every fold and made sure everything was touched by his tongue before sucking on your clit.
The sudden pleasure sent you over the edge for the first time that night.
"Fuck." He smiled and kissed you on the lips. "You tell me how it feels ok? Im gonna start opening you up with my fingers."
You nodded. He started to kiss your neck while he stretch out your cunt. Once one was in, he asked, "how's it feel?"
"Weird," you admit. "But you lips are doing great."
He laughed and began to explore your walls, stroking and thrusting until finally, you gasped, a funny sensation coming from below.
"Wha-"
"Ah, found it." He stroked that spot again, and you bucked against his hand.
"Aw, good girl. Doing so well for me."
That made you moan, the sound echoing in his ear. Tony wanted to hear that over and over agin. Maybe put it on video. But that was a conversation for another day.
One by one until he had three fingers inside of you and had mastered a pattern of rubbing your clit and stroking your g spot that had you moaning and whining beneath him.
With his fingers still stuffed in your cunt, Tony took a deep breath before asking, "I think you're ready. How about you?"
"Yes!" You nodded frantically. "Please, Tony?"
He smiled and kissed you. He fingered you for a few more minutes, and even when he removed his fingers, he kept a hand near your clit as he positioned himself. "It might feel uncomfortable."
"I know."
"If you think you need it, the lube's right there."
"Uh-huh. Please, Tone, just... fuck me. Please?"
His smile was so delicate and loving. Tony swooped down to kiss you. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
It took some time. An inch in, kisses on your lips and a few flicks of yohr clit, some questions, and then another inch. Sometimes, he did squeeze your tits, trying to create so much stimulation that any stretching sensation was over shadowed.
"There." He sighed and kissed your forehead. "You got all of me."
"I did?" You werent sure if you recognuzed your voise. So soft and dreamy.
He laughed. "Yeah you did." He breathed you and told you, "Thank you."
So full and so still, you started to clench around him. Tony moaned so fucking deliciouslym
"Tony," you whined, "come on, move."
He laughed. "Of you really want me to."
So he pulled out just a few inches before thrusting back into you. The friction was sweet and tantalizing and you wanted more. You told him so, so he did.
Soon, the room was full of moans and the slaps of skin on skin, and when Tony lifted your hips to get a better grip on you, his cock rubbed against your g spot again. Your moans turned into high pitch sounds that only increased in volume when Tony rubbed your clit.
You came around him, lost in pleasure, and he still kept thrusting into you and rubbing your clit. He made aure you rode that orgasm as long as you could, and when you could think clearly, he was next to you kissing your shoulder and cheek. "Hey. How was it?"
You laughed. Your answer was a kiss.
"Mm, ok good feedback." He kissed your nose. "You were wonderful."
You gasped. "Wait did you cum? Fuck, did you-"
"Woah, I did." He laughed. "How could I not?" His smile turned mischevious. "You sound so fucking good when you cum"
You could feel the heat seep into your skin, so you hid your face in his chest.
Tony only giggled and kissed the top of your head.
"I love you," you squeaked.
"I love you, too."
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imbeccablee · 4 years ago
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DekuShield Week Day 1: First Kiss
soooo apparently my first post got eaten by tumblr??? I was gonna submit it to the dekushield tumblr itself but apparently it doesn't have submissions on lmao. oh well, hopefully this one gets through!!
anyway, so here's a little Christmas special!
(yes I know its October and no I don't care)
enjoy!!
--
When All Might told Izuku the two of them had been invited back to I-Island for a Christmas celebration with the Shield family, Izuku had been ecstatic.
He'd really gotten along with Melissa and though things had gotten a little rough with David near the end there, he truly respected the man and knew All Might still trusted him. Izuku was really excited to see the two of them again (maybe one more than the other…), and he was really looking forward to seeing I-Island again!
Now that he's here, though, in the midst of the aforementioned party, Izuku can't help but feel sick to his stomach.
And like, not necessarily in a bad way? It's hard to explain, really. Like, he had been almost giddy with excitement, but the moment he and All Might met up with Melissa and David, all those happy feelings turned into anxiety and nervous energy. He couldn't form sentences correctly, couldn't sit still, he was hyper aware of everything that was going on - he'd almost think he was having a panic attack if he didn't acutely know how those actually felt. But at the same time, he knew he didn't want to be anywhere else in the whole world at that moment. He just doesn't understand it!
And the feeling had persisted all throughout the day, as Melissa and David escorted them to their hotel and to the new additions that had been built in their time away. Izuku wondered if he had suddenly gotten sick, but that wouldn't explain the lingering positivity, nor the fact that All Might seemed perfectly fine, and the man's immune system was worse than Izuku's.
Even now, as he stands off to the side of the party, clinging to his cup of soda like a lifeline, he feels like keeling over on the spot. All Might had left him briefly, having been pulled away by David so he could introduce the retired hero to some of his newer scientist friends, so now Izuku is just awkwardly standing alone, looking like he's about to die on the spot.
This is why I don't do parties…
"Ah, Deku!" 
Izuku jolts violently, some of his drink spilling over the side of his cup and onto his hands, and whips towards the voice. Melissa stands to the side of him, looking unfairly beautiful in her elegant, floor-length dress. His voice catches in his throat as he tries to respond and the sick feeling rockets up to an eleven. He feels like he might throw up, but also like he's two seconds away from breaking out into song, and he doesn't understand.
"Deku?" Melissa's face has taken on a confused note and Izuku realizes he's just been staring at her like an idiot.
He clears his throat, but he still sounds ragged when he says, "H-Hey, Melissa." They both flinch in unison.
"Oof," she says in English, before switching to Japanese. "You don't sound too good. Are you feeling alright?"
And then she steps closer so she can press her hand to his forehead. He physically feels blood rush into his face as her hand lands on his skin, and she gasps. "You're burning up! Let's go find Uncle Might, he can take you back to the hotel. You shouldn't be here if you're sick - "
"W-Wait, no, I-I'm fine, just," he tries to protest, still reeling from the gentle touch of her soft hand on his face.
"No, if you're not feeling well, you should rest!" she insists, before taking his free hand (making his heart flip) and pulling him toward where, presumably, All Might is. "You need to take better care of yourself, Deku."
"Melissa, please, I-I swear I'm fine!" he says again, allowing himself to be dragged through the crowd and toward his mentor.
"Uncle Might!" Melissa calls out and Izuku groans softly.
All Might turns at the sound of his name and greets the two of them. "Young Melissa, Young Midoriya, how are you two doing? Enjoying the party?"
Melissa pulls Izuku up beside her and he barely has enough time to be flustered over how her heels make her absolutely tower over him when he's so close before she says, "Deku isn't feeling well, I'm gonna take him back, alright?"
All Might's content joy turns to worry in an instant. "Young Midoriya, you're feeling unwell? Why didn't you say any - well, actually, that's quite in-character now that I think about it."
Izuku ducks his head in embarrassment and exasperation at the blatant callout for a moment, before lifting his eyes and saying, "Really, I'm fine! It's just hot in here, that's all!"
The two of them stare at All Might with pleading eyes, both trying to get him to do the opposite the other wants. All Might looks a little pinned down.
Finally, All Might says, "Um, well, how about this? Young Midoriya takes a breather outside and Young Melissa can watch him, and if he doesn't get any better, I'll take him back to the hotel."
Melissa huffs a little, but nods. "I suppose that's fine."
Izuku nods. "Yeah, alright." He wasn't lying when he said it was hot inside. Maybe he just needs some fresh air.
He follows Melissa outside until she stops at the street, under one of the street lamps. It's dark enough now that all of them have turned on, as have the light-up Christmas decorations on the surrounding buildings, making everything glow in pretty reds, greens, and blues.
The cold air is already doing wonders on his face. He does feel a bit sick still, but he can feel himself calming down. Maybe he'd just had too much excitement all at once; his day had been jam-packed with reunions and tours. Not to mention, spending all day with Melissa, an incredible, inspirational,, and stunning girl, probably had something to do with his nerves.
Speaking of, he should probably thank her for caring so much. Even if he didn't want to fully leave the party yet (mostly 'cause he doesn't want to disappoint All Might), it made his heart sing that she was so concerned for him.
He turns towards her, mouth opening with a thank you on his tongue, when he sees her shivering, arms wrapped around herself. His thanks dies on his tongue, replaced with, "Melissa! You're cold!"
Way to state the obvious, genius.
Melissa giggles a little, her smile twisted into something mirroring a grimace. "A little. But it's fine, we'll be back inside sooner or later."
Izuku's having none of it. He shrugs off his jacket and feels a chill crawl up the skin under his shirt. Ignoring it, he steps closer to her and quickly wraps his jacket around her shoulders, pulling it tight over her chest so it's covering as much of her as possible.
Melissa looks down at him in surprise, her hands automatically sliding from her arms to grab at the jacket's opening. "Deku?"
"I'm trying to cool down anway," he reasons. "If you're going to stay out here, I want to make sure you're warm too. Don't want you to actually get sick."
Her surprise melts into a warm smile and Izuku's heart jumps into his throat. That sick feeling registers again. "You're too kind, Deku," she whispers as she tilts her head back, presumably to look at the stars. Then she stills, staring up at something directly above them.
She stares for long enough that Izuku gets curious and tilts his head up too, starting to say, "What are you…?" He stops, however, when he sees the white berries and green leaves of a mistletoe hanging from the streetlight.
Immediately, warmth blooms full force in his face again, but he can clearly understand where that came from. His hands tighten on his jacket around Melissa's shoulders as a wheeze exits his lungs. 
Melissa laughs a little at the noise he made and tilts her head down to look at him. He mimics her a second later, feeling like he's about to combust. Before she can say anything, he nearly shouts, "We don't have to!"
She blinks in surprise, but the mirth never leaves her face. "Why, Deku, are you saying you don't want to kiss me?"
Izuku squeaks as he tries to deny it, "What? No, of course not! Who wouldn't want to kiss you?" Kill him. "Ah, I mean, that is, I don't mean that I want to kiss you!" KILL HIM. "No, no, not that, what I mean is, if you don't want to kiss me, then we won't, because I know there's that whole tradition or whatever but that's really old-school and also kind of gross if you think about the implications of two people needing to kiss just because they're standing over a plant so there's a whole weird consent issue surrounding the whole thing and basically all I'm saying is we can break the cycle right here right now and - " He takes in a gasping breath as he runs out of air, the cold having made it so his spiel was shorter than normal.
Melissa just smiles, giggling lightly at his fumbling. Then, she says, "Who said I didn't want to kiss you?"
Now, he feels breathless for another reason.
He stills, staring up at her in shock, trying to process her sentence. Melissa lets him, still smiling softly, like they have all the time in the world.
"You… what?" he says, dumbly. 
"I said," she repeats, "who said I didn't want to kiss you?"
"You…" He can't even wrap his head around this, what?? "You want to kiss me? You want to kiss me?"
Melissa laughs again. "Don't look so surprised! I would've thought it was obvious, with how I've been acting."
"Well, you thought wrong." It slips out before he can stop it, and he quickly takes his hand from where it's holding his jacket closed and covers his mouth. Her laughter increases as he apologizes.
"No, no, I suppose that's my fault," she says. "I should have known better than to assume you knew how I felt."
How she FELT?
Izuku doesn't know if he can physically handle the implications of that.
"Anyway," she continues, "I'll be straight forward then. May I kiss you, Deku?"
Another wheeze escapes his throat and his knees buckle a little. He doesn’t quite fall, but Melissa's hands do surge up and catch his arms. That sick feeling is mixing with a wonderful giddiness, jumping around in his stomach, almost feeling like beating wings - and oh. Oh, he's just stupid, isn't he.
Oh, he's in love with her, isn't he.
"Yes," he breathes, high on the feeling of love realized, blissfully ignoring his own stupidity of the day. He'd been feeling sick because he was nervous and in love and he'd been with her all day, holy shit, he can be so dumb sometimes.
Melissa breathes a sigh of relief, tension dropping from her shoulders, and he realizes she'd been scared he'd reject her. As if anyone in their right mind would reject her. 
Her hands slide up from his arms and cup his jaw, fingertips buried in his unruly hair. She tilts her head forward, slowly, unrushed, and Izuku's eyes flutter shut in preparation. He feels her nose brushes his, feels her breath against his lips, and then - she's kissing him.
He sighs a bit, in relief, a small, hurt part of him, that will never truly die, having expected this to all be a huge prank. But it's not, of course, because Melissa would never hurt him like that. 
Her lips press a bit harder against his, and her hands slide further back on his head until her arms having fully wrapped around his neck. His own hands jolt up, unsurely landing on her waist, as she leads him. She's obviously done this before, while he's completely green.
The kiss lasts another few seconds before Melissa slowly leans back. Embarrassingly, Izuku starts to follow, before catching himself and letting them part. 
They both pant lightly, breathing the same air and still wrapped up in each other. She beams at him, face flushed from more than just the cold. "That was wonderful, Deku."
"R-Really? I-I didn't know what I was doing…"
Melissa hums. "Maybe, but… because it's you, I thought it was amazing." His face turns a few shades darker. She giggles, before her voice takes on a more serious tone. "And… if you wanted, there could be more chances to… you know, improve…?"
It takes him a second.
Then another. 
And another.
"Wait, are you asking me out?"
Melissa snorts a little, before nodding.
"Like, me me? Like, Midoriya Izuku?"
"I don't see any other hero-in-training here, currently wrapped in my arms and standing under a mistletoe, do you?" she teases.
"N-No, I just…" Ah, shit, he's gonna cry at this rate. "This is just too unreal. There's no way this all just happened, that I kissed you and then you asked me out. I have to be dreaming."
Melissa tilts his head towards her (when had he looked away?) and smiles brightly at him. "It's all real. I kissed you and then I asked you out. If it's too much at once, we can wait. I can wait. You're worth it, to me, Deku. I want to be with you, wholly and truly."
Aaaaand now he's crying.
Melissa takes it in stride, leaning back so her hands can comfortably cup his face again and her thumbs can wipe his tears. He grips her wrists tightly, but not enough to hurt.
"I - I just - I never thought you'd actually - that someone like you would - " He's cut off by another sob and Melissa shushes him.
"It's okay, Deku, I understand. It's a lot right now, we can talk about it tomorrow - "
"N-No, wait," he cuts in, sniffing noisily and forcing his tears to halt. He looks her in the eye, breathing shakily, and says, "Y-Yes. I-I'd like to go out with you. Please."
Melissa lets out a breath of her own, eyes wide and shining. Oh no, is she going to -
Tears drip from her eyes as her smile widens and widens, and she throws herself at him, wrapping him up in a tight hug. "Oh, that's wonderful, Deku! I'm so happy!"
Izuku laughs breathlessly, feeling like he's on top of the world. He tightens his arms around her waist and lifts her up, spinning her around as their joyous laughter fills the empty street.
After a few moments of mirth, he sets her back down and they pant heavily. Their foreheads lean against one another as they breathe each other's air.
They stand in silence, enjoying each other's company as they catch their breath. Then, nervously, Izuku whispers, "You know, we're… we're still under the mistletoe. If you, um, wanted to… help me improve, like you said…?" He anxiously looks at her, feeling simultaneously too close and like he never wants to be away from her again.
Melissa huffs a laugh and buries her hand into the curls on the back of his head. "You know, Deku? I think I'll take you up on your offer."
She leans in and catches him in another scorching kiss, and before Izuku loses himself in her, he wonders how he could ever believe he didn't love her.
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omg-imagine · 5 years ago
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⊱ Forget Me Not (9/15) ⊰
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Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader
Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.
Words: 5k oops
Warnings: language, angst and implied smut 
A/N: Sorry for the wait! I do hope you enjoy this chapter since it’s my favorite one to write so far. I mentioned before there was going to be actual smut in this but decided to leave it out since I didn’t want this drag this chapter out. Anways, let me know what you think!
Part 8
“You look stunning.”
Through the vanity mirror, you spotted Keanu standing in the open doorway, his arms folding across his chest and the corner of his lips lifting into a half-smile. Slowly, you turned your head around, noting how exceptionally handsome he looked in a classic black blazer and trousers. With his dark hair neatly brushed and beard freshly trimmed, you simply could not pry your eyes away from Keanu, who merely chuckled in amusement.
Crossing the room in three long strides, neither Keanu could stop himself from staring at you. After rummaging through your closet for what seemed like hours, you settled on a gorgeous navy blue dress to wear for the evening, a choice now deemed right considering the approving expression on his face.
Smirking up at him from your seat, you heard Keanu repeat his earlier statement as he reached down to grasp your hand before kissing each knuckle tenderly.
Life was falling into place, it seemed, even after Keanu’s revelation about your rocky relationship with him before the accident. As you held him quietly that evening in the overlook, an area once dear to your heart, you contemplated fully on what he had told you.
Even though things hadn’t been the way you thought they were and Keanu had kept it from you for weeks, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him.
The present outweighed the past. You couldn’t remember how you felt in that situation, and all you had now were the memories of Keanu treating you nothing but the best. He hid the truth in fear of losing you, and after learning what he’s been through, you didn’t want to be another heartbreak he’d have to endure.
So, you forgave Keanu. Giving second chances to others was difficult for you because of previous relationships, but you strongly believed it was the right thing to do when it came to him.
And you had not an ounce of regret since.
“I’m not even done with my makeup,” you giggled softly, causing Keanu to shake his head.
“You don’t need makeup,” he said, his voice filled with pure affection. “You’re beautiful without it.”
Warmth rose to your cheeks as your eyes met his radiant ones. “Well, I want to look my best. We’re celebrating a very special occasion tonight.”
Keanu shot you an incredulous look. “Turning 56 is hardly special, darling. It just reminds me how old I’m really getting.”
“Hey, 56 is far from old,” you countered, ignoring the small pout he was giving you. “If it makes you feel any better, you get sexier with age.”
“Huh, is that what you believe?”
“Yup,” you replied, winking at him. “And I’m always right.”
You didn’t miss the blush invading Keanu’s face before he dipped down and pressed his warm, sensuous lips to yours. The two of you kissed slowly, deeply, and passionately. His tongue gently probed your mouth open as your hands tightly clenched the lapels of his jacket, pulling his upper body in much closer. All coherent thoughts vanished as you lost yourself in the kiss, drowning in both his intoxicating scent and the taste of him on your lips.
Despite the burning desire for the other in the last few weeks, you and Keanu had yet to become intimate due to a mutual decision to take your relationship slow. Though as time went on, it had only gotten more challenging to control yourselves. You wanted to wait for the perfect moment, but with the way things were going now, you had an inkling that it was coming soon.
Pulling away, you heard Keanu let out a groan in frustration similar to yours. “We’ll be late for our dinner reservation.”
“Do we have to go out?” He whined. “We could just stay in, order some take-out, and watch a movie.”
“Ke, I’ve planned this night for the last two weeks,” you revealed, not sharing precisely what the evening entailed. “Trust me, you’re going to enjoy yourself.”
“I don’t even know where you’re taking me.”
Laughing, you then shifted forward again and applied the final touches to your makeup, topping it off with a thin swipe of red lipstick. “I can’t tell you because it’s part of the surprise.”
“Fine,” he playfully sulked, smoothing out the wrinkles that you had made on his clothes. “I do hope this surprise of yours is good.”
With one last glance at your reflection, you grabbed your phone nearby and checked the text you received five minutes ago.
Everyone’s here. Let me know when you’re on your way.
“Who’s that?” Keanu attempted to look over your shoulder, but before he could see anything, you had already sent a response and placed your cell inside of your bag.
“No one,” you answered nonchalantly, facing him. Your fingers then reached up at his head to fix the locks that fell out of place. For a brief moment, you studied Keanu’s face, your heart instantly fluttering as his warm and adoring chestnut-hued eyes gazed at you. You could tell that he’s in deep thought, and you wondered what he could be thinking about. “Ke?”
“Oh, sorry,” he muttered, snapping out of his momentary daze. “Shall we go?”
“Yeah, but is everything okay?”
Licking his lips, he quickly shook his head and flashed you a reassuring smile. “Of course, everything’s great. I can’t wait to see what you have planned.”
“I can’t wait either.”
“Hang on,” he called out as you started walking away, his hand slipping into yours. Turning around, you stood there as Keanu closed the gap between the two of you, quickly giving you a chaste kiss before stepping back. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Ke,” you spoke, ending the sentence with a small chuckle. “At least, not yet.”
“I know, but I just want to thank you for everything.”
Sighing contentedly, a soft smile appeared on your face. Keanu deserved a good time tonight, and you hoped that what you had planned would give him that.
---
The ride to the address you had plotted on Keanu’s GPS wasn’t too far away, but it felt as though he had been driving for a long while. He did notice how secretive you’ve been acting recently, and he guessed that this had something to do with it. You insisted he dress up nicely for the birthday dinner you had set up at an unknown venue, not divulging any further information no matter how often he pestered you.
With one hand gripping on the steering wheel while the other held yours, Keanu was relieved how normal life had turned out to be now. The two of you had finally fallen into a comforting routine. The day would usually start off with cooking breakfast together and then dropping you off at work before he headed to his. When the end of the day arrived, he would pick you up and have dinner at home. The weekends were typically reserved for romantic dates around LA, just a special time for you and him.
With a sigh, Keanu thought about how extremely grateful he was that you weren’t angry after finding out part of what had happened. You were quite forgiving of him, reminding him again of how unworthy he was of you.
It was unfortunate that he’d learned to somewhat cope with the guilt inside. To help him forget, even if it were only for a fleeting second, he would shower you with all the love and affection he had. He’d focus on the brand new moments you were creating together, pushing away the past to the back of his head and begging it would stay there until he’s ready to own up to his mistakes.
But that’s if Keanu chose to do so.
“The restaurant is just up that hill,” you pointed out eagerly, and he could feel your utter excitement as he turned up the gravelly road.
Keanu had never been to this place before, but it looked pretty nice based on the rustic exterior. Pulling up to an available spot, he noticed that there were only a few cars parked, not nearly filling up half of the lot. It was only Wednesday, and he figured the restaurant wasn’t as busy in the middle of the week.
“How did you find this?” He questioned as he turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt.
“I did a lot of searching on Yelp and came across this hidden gem.”
Getting out of the car, Keanu swiftly jogged to the passenger side and opened the door for you, extending his palm out for you to take.
“And they say chivalry is dead,” you quipped as you stepped out, your hair blowing in the gentle summer breeze.
“It never kills to be a gentleman,” he returned, offering to you his arm afterwards but you held out a finger signaling him to wait. “What’s wrong?”
Quickly, you pulled out a blindfold from your purse and held it out for Keanu to see. He was confused at first until you finally explained. “I’m going to put this around your eyes before we head inside.”
Keanu furrowed his brow at you. “What’s it for?”
“It’s a surprise,” you only said before coming to stand behind him and covering his eyes with the opaque fabric in your hand. “Don’t peek or else.”
Fastening the tie’s ends securely on the back of Keanu’s head, your right hand then loosely wraps itself around his bicep, the left gently settling on his lower back. Carefully, you guided him down the path leading to the building’s entrance. He couldn’t see through the blindfold, but he could sense everything else. From the heat radiating from your soft touch to the aromatic scent of your perfume, it all resulted in the warmth spreading across Keanu’s chest.
You always had that effect on him, and he believed he would never get used to it.
Halting your movements, Keanu heard the sound of a heavy door opening, followed by silence. Slowly, you entered the restaurant, his footsteps echoing on the floorboards with each small step. The sudden quietness was unusual, but before he could ask what was going on, you untied the knot of the blindfold and peeled it away from his eyes, his vision soon adjusting to the lights inside where he recognized the beaming faces staring back at him.
“Happy birthday!” The group shouted out loud as lively music began to play through the speaker, catching him by complete surprise.
Surrounding him were his close-knit group of family and friends, some whom he hasn’t seen in a while. Hugging his mother first before moving on to his sisters, Keanu was genuinely touched by your kind gesture. He did not expect you to gather the people near and dear his heart on his birthday. Glancing to you, he saw you smiling at him.
“Surprise!” you chirped once he got through saying hello to each of the guests and finally having a minute alone with you. “I got you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did,” he replied, leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek. “You planned all this?”
“Not entirely,” you said before pointing behind him. Keanu turned his head and saw her. “Molly helped me call up everyone and organize this whole get-up. But it’s my idea to surprise you with a dinner party for your birthday.”
“T-That’s sweet of you,” he stammered, his gaze returning to yours. “Thank you, Y/N. You didn’t have to do all of this.”
“Don’t sweat it, Ke. I also thought it was a great time to meet your family, too.”
“So, do you want me to introduce you to everyone?” Keanu suggested, hoping it would keep him occupied so that Molly couldn’t approach him for now, at least. It was the first time they had seen each other since that night.
“Sure,” you said with a nod, much to Keanu’s relief.
Gently, he took your hand and made his way around the room with you. Those attending knew about the accident and your amnesia, and were glad to see you were doing alright. Meanwhile, Keanu stood there beside you for the first half-hour, watching you interact with your friends and as well as his family. It helped him forget about Molly for a little bit, who was busy chatting with someone else. Although he knew she wouldn’t say anything to ruin the night for you, he was confident that she would bring the topic up to him.
When it came time to sit down and eat, Keanu was distracted enough to enjoy himself. The interior was lively, decorated with balloons, flowers, and banners. His favorite chocolate cake was displayed on a stand, a specific type that only you and he knew. It left Keanu wondering if it was merely a coincidence, or perhaps deep down, you do remember despite not even realizing it.
Sitting on his right side, you laughed at all of the stories being shared over the table, which was pure music to his ears. It warmed Keanu’s heart seeing you that way, so happy and having fun. You had gotten along with everyone quite easily and had even bonded quickly with his sisters, already scheduling a date set up for next week to have lunch in the city.
Again, life seemed normal. It was as if the fights didn’t happen, or the angry words were never exchanged. Your relationship felt like it was back at its best, where the love was at its highest.
From time to time, he would imagine how things would be if the last six months had been different. Way back then, you had brought up marriage maybe once or twice. Perhaps if Keanu hadn’t screwed up, he might have proposed by now, and you would have said yes.
But nothing lasts in this world, he reminded himself. It was the very same reason he tried to convince himself when he had hurt you.
Lost in his own thoughts, Keanu didn’t notice you whispering his name as you squeezed his thigh. “You okay?”
“I am,” he smiled, his hand reaching down to hold yours.
“Just making sure,” you added sweetly. “I’m heading to the bar to order a drink. Do you want me to get you something?”
“No, I’m good, but stay here. Let me get one for you.”
Nodding, you watched as Keanu stood up from his seat, moving the white napkin from his lap to the surface of his empty plate. “You’ll get my usual?”
“Vodka martini?” He recalled almost instantly, a flicker of a smile passing his lips.
“You know me so well,” you responded, and Keanu excused himself to head to the bar area at the back.
As Keanu waited for the drink to be made, he felt a soft tap on his shoulder, and he turned around, seeing Molly standing behind him with arms now crossed against her chest. With a sigh, his eyes fell to the ground. She had been waiting for a moment alone with him all night, and now she finally got one.
“Where’s Will?” Keanu questioned monotonously.
“Business trip. He did call you this morning to greet you, right?” The blonde replied, her piercing blue eyes studying his stance intently.
“He did,” he gruffly answered, his gaze remaining downcast. “How have you been?”
Molly exhaled deeply. “You and I both know you don’t really care for small talk, especially after what happened.”
“Can’t you just let it go?” Keanu suddenly shot a glare up at Molly to silence her. “Y/N’s finally adjusted to her new normal, and the last thing she needs is…”
“Is what Keanu? For the truth to be hidden from her? You don’t want her to find out how much you’ve really fucked up, and that’s not how you treat someone you love,” she snapped in a hushed tone. “She told me that you said the two of you were on the verge of breaking up before the car crash. Good for you telling her half the story. When are you going to tell her the rest of it?”
Gritting his teeth, Keanu met Molly’s unrelenting stare. “It’s none of your business, Molly.”
“It is my business because I was involved,” she retorted, her patience wearing out. “I understand that you care about her, and knowing her past with Eric, she’s not going to take this one lightly, unlike what you’ve already said.”
“She’s going to walk out on me if I tell her.” Keanu’s voice was low as he eventually relaxed, realizing that it was pointless to be mad. “You haven’t mentioned…?”
“Nothing,” Molly declared with a small shake of her head. “It hurts to keep that kind of a secret, Keanu. Hell, it tears me apart knowing I’m hiding one from Y/N, but she has to know soon. You can’t continue pretending that everything’s rosy when it’s not.”
“And you’re going to tell her if I don’t?” Keanu inquired, looking out into the dining room where he saw you taking pictures with his mother. She would be utterly disappointed in him if she too found out what he had done. He wasn’t raised to be this kind of person.
“Y/N’s my friend, Keanu. Friends don’t keep secrets from each other,” Molly sighed out. “I told her you were a good guy, but what you’re doing is selfish. She deserves to know the truth, and the longer you wait, the worst it’ll turn out to be. What if her memory returns all of a sudden? What are you going to do then?”
Silence. Keanu couldn’t answer because he honestly didn’t know what he would do. If your memory came back, it would be like losing you all over again…
“Just think about it. Look, I’ll give you a week to confess to Y/N or else I’m stepping in. You’ve dragged this on for far too long, but she really needs to hear this from you, not me.”
Receiving no response, Molly sauntered past him afterwards, her heels clicking across the floor, fading in the distance. Keanu stood there, frozen in front of the bar and left alone with his thoughts again. As he glanced at you from afar, all he could focus on was how unfair this situation was. He was content with the way things were now. Your loving relationship had been restored, though buried beneath it was a terrible lie.
Walking back to the table with your martini in his grasp, Keanu couldn’t see himself breaking your heart once more, but he had to do it. Molly had called him out on his selfishness, and the more he pondered about it, the more he understood where she was coming from.
“Thank you, baby,” you smiled as Keanu handed you the glass, your fingers brushing against his delicately.
“You’re welcome,” he returned, meeting your eyes.
Eyes which had yet to see the real him.
You didn’t deserve the real him.
At some point during the party, Keanu snuck out of the restaurant, the guests too tipsy to realize that the celebrant had gone missing. It had become a bit overwhelming back inside, and he needed a minute alone in peace.
The sun had finally set behind the distant mountains, bathing the entire scenery in the heavenly glow of twilight. Keanu found himself standing by the edge of the hill and admiring the view, holding a lit cigarette in his hand. Molly’s words echoed in his mind, tormenting his head and his heart as the guilt showed itself again.
He was selfish. Selfish for hiding the truth. Selfish for lying to you. Selfish for putting himself before you.
Everything he has done was for his own selfish reasons, not because he loved you. Or at least, that’s what it was beginning to feel like.
Keanu wasn’t sure if he could keep up with this charade, and now that Molly had given him one week to come clean, he knew that time was ticking. The end he dreaded was drawing near.
“Ke?”
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw you walking towards him. “What are you doing out here?”
Keanu released one last puff of grey smoke into the open air before dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it out. He never liked smoking whenever you were nearby. “I just was getting some fresh air.”
“You’re not a big party guy, are you?” You asked once you reached him.
“Not really,” he muttered truthfully. “What you did was very thoughtful, and I can’t thank you enough. It got a bit chaotic back there, and I needed a quick break from it.”
“That’s what happens when you have an open bar all night,” you chortled, leaning against Keanu, who slung his arm around you. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“Yes,” he assured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You ask that a lot.”
“Hmm? What do you mean?”
“You ask if I’m okay a lot,” Keanu clarified.
You merely shrugged. “I become concerned because I don’t know what’s running through your mind sometimes. You tend to overthink and get lost in your own little world without even realizing it.”
“Nothing bad with that, right?”
“No,” you denied as you snuggled deeper into his side. “I only worry when you’re too quiet.”
Keanu hung his head low before you turned in his arms to face him. He attempted to mask the waves of emotions flitting across his face, not wanting to alarm you any further. He had forgotten how good you were at reading him, and he didn’t want to dampen your spirits.
But you cared so much about him. He didn’t deserve this.
“I just miss this, you know? I messed up and—”
You placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. “You don’t have to bring it up again, Ke. That was in the past, and you promised to move on. It won’t always be perfect between us, but that’s how we grow as people, right? Even though I don’t remember, I forgive you. I forgive you for the mistakes you’ve made.”
Standing there in Keanu’s arms, glossy eyes locked with his, he could feel his heart sinking at the way you looked at him as if he was your whole world.
He didn’t deserve this.
Keanu couldn’t wait a week despite wanting to. He knew by waiting, he would only be delaying the inevitable.
He was scared. Terrified, really. But he needed to rip it off like a band-aid and face his fears, the consequences.
Because he deserved it.
“There you guys are!” You and Keanu simultaneously turned your heads to see Molly waving at the two of you by the restaurant door. “The cake’s ready whenever you are.”
With a deep exhale, Keanu met Molly’s eyes and nodded at her once. Molly was a good woman, too. She didn’t deserve this either.
“I guess we should go back inside,” you chuckled once the blonde disappeared.
“I guess so,” he agreed quietly before stealing another kiss from you.
As you headed back to the restaurant, his hand holding yours, Keanu made his decision.
He planned to tell you tonight.
---
Stumbling through the front door, you headed straight to the living room and slumped down on the couch, your feet sore from the heels you wore all night. It was past midnight already, and the vodka martinis you downed were starting to wash away, though not entirely. Resting your eyes for a moment, you heard Keanu shut the door before ambling towards you.
“You want a glass of water?” He offered with a small smile, but you only shook your head.
“No, I’m good. Thank you,” you told Keanu. The muted glow emitting from the lamp on the glass side table cast soft shadows over his face, and you could stop thinking how beautiful he was.
And how he was yours. All yours.
Lazily, you patted the empty spot on your left, inviting him to sit beside you. With a low chuckle, Keanu lowered himself onto the couch, and immediately, you rested your head against his chest as he slipped an arm around your shoulders. The room was silent, save for the faint ticking of a clock in the background and the sound of his beating heart pressed to your ear.
“When did you realize you love me?” You blurted out the question that has been floating in your mind for some time now.
Keanu slightly shifted in his seat, his eyes focusing on the inquisitive expression on your face as you continued to gaze up at him. The corner of his mouth raised as you reached out for his hand and intertwined your fingers with his. Only then did you notice how perfectly they fit together.
“Three months after we started dating, you spent the night at my house for the first time,” Keanu fondly recounted as your joined hands came to lie above his chest. “I remember seeing you in the kitchen the next morning, flipping eggs in a pan while singing along to the radio. I had just gotten out of the shower, and you didn’t notice me, but I was there, watching.”
He paused briefly before lightly chuckling to himself. A smile broke over your lips as you pictured the scene he described. It nearly felt like a scene from a romantic movie, two lovers spending the early waking hours in each other’s company. You would do anything in the world just to be in that moment again.
“After soaking it all in, I realized how much I loved the woman standing there, dressed only in one of my t-shirts as she confidently belted out loud a tune off-key. I realized that no amount of money or success in the world could ever compare to the time I’ve spent with you. So, I said it. I told you that I loved you, hoping that I would have all of that— you— for the rest of my life.”
Fresh tears shimmered in your eyes, causing you to miss the subtle crestfallen look on Keanu. You felt the truth in his words; the warmth and affection laced in the voice he used to speak. This was what you wanted, a man who loves you wholeheartedly and without restraint. A man who could make you feel beautiful with merely a smile. A man who would sacrifice everything he has to take care of you.
Keanu was a man who has loved and lost. A man of great strength yet still had his own faults. He was all that you could ask for, and like he said, you hoped to have him for the rest of your life, too.
“Y/N, I—”
“I love you,” you interjected, not even realizing that you did. “I love you, Ke. I’ve been thinking about it the entire night, and right now, I’m sure of it.”
You detected Keanu’s initial surprise after hearing those three words, but the longer he remained quiet, the more you began to worry, though you didn’t know why.
Keanu loved you. He had said so multiple times.
Then why was he reacting as if it hurt hearing you tell him that?
Blinking twice, Keanu sat up, his back straightening against the couch. His face fell the slightest bit, his attention drifting to his secure hold of your hand, his grasp tightening before loosening as if he were ready to let go. “I-I…”
“What is it?” You asked, concern marring your face.
You heard him sigh heavily, watching his shoulder slump momentarily before peering at you through his dark lashes. Slowly, his expression softened along with his gaze. Eyes brimming with warmth, a small flicker of a smile passed across Keanu’s face.
“I-I never thought I would ever get to hear those words again,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and you forgot about your previous uneasiness. “I love you, too.”
And just like that, you felt… complete.
Cherished.
Loved.
Loved by Keanu, equal to the way you loved him.
Heart swelling with joy, you retrieved your hand from Keanu’s and brought it up to cup the side of his face. He leaned into your touch, the bristles of his beard tickling your palm as you licked your lips. Eyes searching his while Keanu’s quickening breaths matched your own, you inched closer and closer until finally, you met him for a kiss.
The kiss was different than the ones you’ve shared before. Behind it was a new meaning, more profound and more special now after admitting that you loved Keanu. Fingers tangled in his silky hair as you deepened the kiss, your tongue slipped past his parted lips. His hands freely ran over the fabric of your dress almost possessively, sending you to a frenzied state of arousal.
Keanu pulled back without warning, and you caught a glimpse of his face as your chests heaved. Hair mussed, and lips swollen, you could see the fierce desire in his darkened eyes. It was unmistakable. He wanted this so badly, his self-control hanging on by a dangerously thin thread.
But you wanted it, too. You wanted it all. To feel it all.
Your hand drifted down to rest on his thigh, a breath hitching in your throat when you noticed the evidence of his arousal. With a soft squeeze, you then questioned Keanu, “Will you do it?”
“Do what?” Came his breathless response, unable to tear his pleading gaze away from yours.
“Will you help me remember how good it can feel?”
Quietly, Keanu carefully stood up from the couch before extending his hand out to you. Tenderly grasping it, you allowed him to pull you up on your feet. You could sense the heat radiating from his body as you stood close, feeling the warmth of his breath fanning over your cool skin.
“Are you sure?” He whispered, and you nodded.
“Yes,” you affirmed, peppering kisses along his jaw, only stopping when your lips reached his ear. “I want you, Ke. I want you to remind me of the love I once knew.”
Without another word, Keanu led you upstairs to your bedroom, where he spent the rest of the night showing you what it means to be truly loved.
Part 10
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lovemesomerafael · 5 years ago
Text
Cinderella of Chicago                Chapter 5:  The Alarm
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For my good friend Anon who loves Otis, too.  Thanks for your patience; this didn’t quite come out how I’d hoped, but OTIS.
Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4 Part 1  Chapter 4 Part 2 
 Also read on AO3
Almost from the moment they met, Brian and Meg knew that there was something special between them.  Now, after dating for several months, neither had any doubts.  Their relationship was serious.  They’d taken their time with sex, and it had been worth the wait.  But more than that, they understood each other.  They got each other’s jokes, and liked a lot of the same things.  Each instinctively knew what the other needed when they’d had a tough shift at work which, given their jobs, could mean anything from sheer physical or emotional exhaustion to psychological distress from the kinds of things they saw in their work.  
Sometimes they just needed to laugh, to be distracted.  Other times, they needed to pound out their frustrations with exercise or let off steam with a heated battle in one of their games.  Comforting each other could mean just providing an opportunity to talk it out, or soothing each other with hugs and kisses.  At times, solace took the form of sex, which could be either soft and slow, or hard and frenzied, depending on what they needed.  The point was, they’d found in each other a source of strength and calm that allowed them to heal and recharge so that they could go back out and do it again the next day.
Depending on his mood, Brian could be so romantic and emotional in bed that Meg got tears in her eyes.  He could also be playful and fun, which was absurdly sexy, too.  Brian seldom called Meg anything but “Pupsic”, which is Russian for “baby” and made Meg’s knees weak every time he used it.  Meg had never felt for anyone what she felt for Brian.
Even several months in, Brian had trouble going very long without making himself crazy thinking about Meg and how it felt to be with her, and the things she did and said when they were in bed together.  As important as that was to him, though, he knew it wasn’t the best part.  The best part was the man he was when he was with her. He worked harder, took better care of himself, made better choices, all because he wanted to be worthy of the way she looked at him, the way she felt about him.  
They were both seeing forever when they looked at each other.  But aside from their feelings, their relationship was usually the opposite of serious.  They loved to make each other laugh, and just found each other entertaining in general, no matter what they were doing.
Meg’s family adored Brian, although most of Brian’s family was reserving judgment on Meg.  His Baba liked her as soon as Meg tried out the polite Russian phrases Brian had taught her, but his parents thought that Brian was the best and brightest, and had very definite ideas about the woman who could be good enough for their son.  A slightly dweeby nurse wasn’t necessarily what they had in mind.    
Brian didn’t care what his parents thought, for two reasons.  First, Baba was teaching Meg Russian.  She’d never done that before with any girl he’d ever brought home.  Which meant his parents would, in the end, be overruled. And second, Brian was in love.  He hadn’t quite found the courage to tell Meg that yet, but he’d begun to float tiny suggestions about moving in together to see how she would react.  They’d figured out how to make their work schedules mesh so that they had more time together, and Brian thought he might be the happiest he’d ever been in his life.
This morning, which promised a lovely spring day, was the beginning of a three-day shift for Brian, which meant a bit of reluctance to part as they kissed good-bye to go their separate ways.  They stood next to Brian’s car, hugging and nuzzling before he drove to the firehouse and she took the El to the hospital.  
“Have a great day, Milyi,” Meg whispered as she stole one more kiss.  
“You, too, Nienaglyadnaya.”
Meg laughed and kissed Brian’s cheek.  “Show off.”
She disentangled herself from him, taking a couple steps backward to grin at him before turning around to cross the street.
“Call me when you get a chance,” Brian called after her, smiling from ear to ear.
“I will.  Be safe.”  She waved while he unlocked the door of his car, whistling.    
They exchanged a few texts that day, as always.  Brian sent a picture of Mouch and Tuesday asleep together in front of the TV, with the news that Tuesday had learned absolutely nothing at obedience school again that week.  He also said he was taking major flak for the asiago chicken pasta he’d made for lunch, which he’d feel bad about, except that there wasn’t a morsel left.  Meg, in turn, sent a picture of Maggie pretending to catch Will in a compromising position with a CPR dummy.  Brian and Meg had a friendly competition going, each trying to outdo the other in sending the goofiest pictures, and their coworkers had gotten involved so that it was evolving into a photo war: Firehouse 51 vs. Chicago Med ER.  The best one so far had been of a line of firefighters, including Chief Boden, taken from outside the Chief’s office with all of their faces smashed up against the glass from the inside.  No one had any idea how Brian had convinced Chief Boden to participate, including Chief Boden.
Brian was deep in a comic book when his cell phone played a snippet of the Princess Theme from Battleground Jupiter, which made him smile before he really even thought about it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, blushing while all the firefighters and paramedics in the common room teased him.  
“Privyat, Vozluyblennaya,” he said quietly as he scooted out toward the bunk room.
“You’re killin’ me with that,” Meg purred, smiling into her phone.
“You’re such a sucker!  It doesn’t even matter what I say, as long as it’s in Russian.  Last night? That was the words to ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’.”
“It still worked for me.”
“I noticed.”  Brian’s low, soft laugh made Meg squirm.
Meg giggled.  “I just wanted to call and say good night.  I used to like my bed, but it’s lonely in here without you now.”
“Count yourself lucky, Pupsik.  Cruz made burritos.  Lonely beats the hell out of a house full of guys who had refried beans for dinner.”
“Oh.  My.”
“Tell me about it.”
They were able to laugh together for about two seconds before Meg could hear the klaxon go off in the firehouse.
“Gotta go.  Sweet dreams.”
“Be safe, talk to you tomorrow.”
Meg smiled as she pushed the “end” button and burrowed between her covers.  She had been amazed at how warm Brian always felt – too hot, sometimes – but she was so used to snuggling up to his warmth that now, when he was on shift, her bed felt cold.  She said a quick prayer for his safety and was half asleep before she finished.
She was awakened by the sound of screaming.  When she opened her eyes, everything Meg could see was on fire.  
Meg was instantly completely awake, which was not a good thing.  Rather than breathing shallowly in sleep, she sucked in her breath in shock, inhaling a deep lungful of thick, soot-filled smoke.  Her throat spasmed and she began to cough.  The good news was that she knew where everything in her apartment was, even in the dark, so she thought she could navigate to the front door.  The bad news was that between her and the front door was a wall of flame.  
Her entire respiratory system clamped down, refusing to take in any more of the hot, acrid smoke that saturated the air.  She was terrified, but after the fire safety courses nurses were required to take annually, Meg instinctively tried to get as low as possible, where there was less smoke. She threw herself off the bed and onto the floor, coughing and wheezing as she prepared to crawl to safety, wherever that was.  
The windows, she thought.  The one in her bedroom was a sheer three-story drop from her top-floor apartment to a concrete driveway, but maybe the bathroom?  She coughed convulsively, blinded by tears now rolling out of her stinging eyes, and began to slither her way across the floor on her belly.  That was no good.  Her dresser, which was against the burning wall, was a mass of flame that cut her off from the bedroom door.  She tried to think, but the heat, the desperate coughing and gasping for air, the burning pain in her eyes, and the deafening roar of the fire blasted at her so fiercely that she could only stare, stunned, at the impenetrable barrier of fire between her and safety.  She whimpered and backed up the way she’d come.  
She wondered if she could tie sheets together into a rope and climb out the window.  At least she could get closer to the ground, so her fall wouldn’t be so long.  She reached up and pulled at the bedsheets, but found that the far corner of the top sheet was already on fire.  She recoiled and left the sheets where they were. Meg had no idea how to make a rope out of bedsheets, anway, and it was getting so hard to inhale, and the constant, helpless coughing hurt so much that she really had all she could do just to keep breathing.  She could see nothing except the frenzied onslaught of the flames, now consuming her bed, forcing her ever further into the corner.  Already, she saw, the flames were between her and the window.  No!  She was now pinned in the corner, surrounded by fire.  How was she going to get out?
Meg’s mind suddenly grasped that she was probably going to die.  It was hard to focus on even such a horrifying thought, competing as it was with the overwhelming sensations of terror of the ravenous fire consuming everything with a speed she would not have believed possible, and her frantic desperation to see anything but the furious glow through eyes tortured by the smoke.  She felt her feet hit the wall as she pushed herself backward along the floor.  For a second, just a second, she put her head down and tried to take a breath of clean air.  But there was none.  She tried again, thinking to breathe more deeply this time, but her irritated lungs refused to open.  She tried to focus her mind, but she was so starved for oxygen that she could only think how black everything was starting to go.   She was surprised to find that she was glad.  The fierce light of the fire hurt her smoke-irritated eyes.  The dark was better.  And the roar was fading away, too.  Good.  
 Brian jumped from the truck before it had even stopped moving.   Everyone on the truck had known he would, and Mouch jumped right after him, reached out, and caught the collar of his turnout coat.
“I know, Otis, but we’re doin’ this right.  Wait for orders.  We’ll get her out safe.”
Brian thought of nothing but getting to Meg.  He struggled against Mouch, but before he could make any headway, the rest of Truck 81 was out and beginning to gather equipment.  
“Otis, I’m not gonna be able to stop you, so you and Mouch get your gear on and take the top floor. But you do not go in until Mouch has checked your gear, is that clear?”  Casey said, hands on either of Brian’s shoulders and face right up in his grill.
“Got it, Captain,” Brian shouted and grabbed the breathing apparatus Mouch was already holding out to him.   They suited up, checked each other’s gear, and headed into the building at a dead run.
Chief Boden rounded the truck at that moment, seeing their backs as they disappeared through the front door.  
“That a good idea?” He asked Casey.
“We need everyone we got. I can’t spare anyone to hold him back, and that’s what it would’ve taken.”
“Yeah,” Boden grunted, turning toward the building, smoke pouring from every window, with flames visible in many. “This is a pure rescue.  We’re gonna lose the building.”
“I know.  Lemme get the rest of the crew searching.”
It took an eternity for Brian and Mouch to make their way up all three flights of stairs to Meg’s floor, partly because of all the equipment they were wearing, and partly because much of the railing and parts of the stairs themselves were burning.  While Mouch went to the apartment next door, Brian wasted no time breaking down the door to Meg’s apartment, noting with horror that the flames were already beginning to diminish as they ran out of readily-available fuel and concentrated on devouring the building itself.  He could see almost nothing through the smoke, but he knew exactly where Meg’s bedroom was.
“Meg!  Meg, call out!   Meg, Pupsic, where are you?”
It was a tiny apartment. There were not many places she could be. Brian almost screamed when he saw that the bed was fully engulfed in flames, but at the same moment, just beyond the fire that was rapidly consuming the carpet, he saw a small, dark shape on the floor.  Limbs curled defensively around herself, Meg was lying in the corner at the foot of her bed. Brian half shouted, half wailed her name, ignoring the flames as he stepped through them to her.  His turnout gear would protect him, he knew, long enough to get to her before the fire did.  
He lifted Meg from the floor, cradling her as tightly as he could so that he could protect her head with his gloved hands.  As he did, she let out a soft, strangled cry, at which Brian simultaneously sobbed and swore vehemently, relieved beyond anything he would have imagined to find that she was alive.  He squeezed her even tighter as he stepped backward through the flames again.   When he’d gotten through, he turned and ran to the hall, calling for Mouch.
“Mouch!  I got her!  She’s alive! You find anyone?”
“No,” Mouch shouted above the sound of the fire and the building beginning to lose its structural integrity. “They musta got out.  We gotta go!”
As Brian led Mouch down the stairs, Mouch radioed to the rest of the team that they were bringing out a victim, unconscious but alive.
The team did what they could, but the building was so old and so fully involved that the best they could do was to control the fire so that it didn’t spread.  All of the residents had gotten out or been rescued, but there were two people already on their way to Med - one with severe burns.
Brian emerged from the building, cradling Meg protectively in his arms, and carried her to Ambulance 61, where he laid her gently, lovingly on the waiting gurney.  After that, all he could do was watch helplessly as Sylvie Brett and Emily Foster worked feverishly to assess Meg’s condition, then embarked on a frantic burst of activity to stabilize her enough to transport.  
He was so desperate to help her that he would have gotten in the way, but the whole firehouse knew the situation, and Severide had dispatched Cruz to see what he could do for Otis.  Right now, what Cruz could do was hold him back, out of the way.   He let Otis lean on him through the agony of watching the paramedics place a breathing tube in Meg’s throat so that they could ventilate her scorched lungs through her swollen airway.  As they watched Brett insert an IV in her arm and do other things that should have been painful and annoying, there was absolutely no response from Meg.
“Cruz, man, I don’t think I can take it if…”  Brian’s voice failed.
“Don’t say it, Bro. She’s gonna be fine.  She’s not burned, and she’s gettin’ treatment from the best.  She’ll be fine.”
“She can’t die.  She can’t.”
“She won’t.”
“I love her.  I want to marry her.”
“I know you do.”
“But she doesn’t!  I haven’t told her yet!  I was too damn scared-“
“Otis.  Look at me.”  Cruz forcibly turned Brian to look at him, leaning down so that they were eye to eye. “She knows.  Everybody knows.  So she knows.”
Brian’s eyes were wild with fear as he gripped Cruz’s forearms hard enough to hurt.  Someone who didn’t know Brian as well as Cruz did might not have seen how close he was to losing control.  “Joe…” he mumbled quietly, “I want to marry her.”
“And you will.  The two of you are gonna raise a whole houseful of little Russian nerds, and name them all after me.  There’s gonna be Joe, of course, and then Joella, and Cruz, and, uh… Cruzine, and…”
Cruz went on, desperately trying to distract him.  Brian didn’t hear a word he said, but he did hear the confidence and caring in his voice. He saw the certainty in his best friend’s face, and it gave him something to hold onto until, ten agonizingly long minutes later, Brian and Cruz helped load the stretcher into the ambulance.  Cruz helped Brian take off his bulky gear, which wouldn’t fit in the small space in the back as he rode with Meg while Foster cared for her.  All the way to Med, Brian sat, holding Meg’s hand, pouring his heart out to her in whispered Russian so that Foster wouldn’t know what he was saying.  But her guesses weren’t far off, and she had to fight the tears that threatened, seeing the depth of his love and fear.
Brian realized in the endless, excruciating hours that he waited for news and battled his fierce need to see and touch Meg, what it is to have your brothers rally around you in a situation like the one he was in.  He’d been part of the crowd in this room more times than he could count, because it’s what you do, and because he cared.  But now, trying to hold it together and find any way to endure the interminable hours while the ER staff at Chicago Med worked on Meg, he realized for the first time why firefighters and cops do it.  And he realized that he needed his brothers around him right now more than he had ever needed them in an inferno.  In a fire, he knew what to do.  In a fire, there was something he could do.  Here, he could only stand, helpless, imagining one horrific scenario after another and trying to hold on from one breath to the next.  He vowed in that moment that he would always be there when one of his fellow firefighters was in this position, for as long as it took.
Meg’s parents and her sister sat in a tight, terrified knot on one side of the waiting room.  Brian went to sit with them as much as he could, but he was far too restless to stay in one place.  Except for Brian, Meg’s family spoke to the firefighters only when spoken to.  Chief Boden and Captain Casey were as polite and helpful as they could be, but the Armstrongs weren’t in a position to do much more than answer simple questions. All of the firefighters had been here before.  Meg’s family had not.  
Brian found himself scrolling through pictures in his phone, just for something to do.  He and Meg took an insane number of selfies, just smiling, or making ridiculous faces, or enjoying someplace fun.  She was so fucking beautiful.  How the hell had a guy like him found such a perfect woman, let alone been lucky enough to be her boyfriend?  What was a smart, sexy, accomplished woman like that doing with him?  Brian stared for a long time at pictures of himself and Meg, aching for the easy, simple happiness of those moments.  
In addition to their selfies, Brian snapped pictures of Meg all the time, whenever he wanted to remember the way she looked at a particular moment, or just because he felt like it. In some of them she was laughing, in some smiling happily, and in some she was looking at him with what he hoped was the same love he felt for her.  The adorable girl who caught his eye wearing a Tabiti costume and then disappeared.  He remembered his profound joy when he’d found her again, standing outside Molly’s under a streetlight, just looking up at the snow.  How astounded they’d been to learn that they’d been right under each other’s noses all along. He thought about how he’d have felt at that moment, had he known how precious she would become to him.  
And now this.
Brian felt as if nothing was real.  It was as though he was watching an old movie as he and Meg’s family followed Ethan Choi into the treatment room where Meg was lying, white and still, a ventilator tube separating her pretty lips.  Not one word of what Ethan said made any sense.  Brian knew no more of what was going on with Meg, and what Ethan expected in the next days, than if Ethan hadn’t spoken at all.  
What he knew was that, now that he was next to her again, now that he could see her and hold her hand, he wasn’t leaving Meg’s side.  As he leaned over to kiss her cheek, he noticed how strongly the smell of smoke still lingered in her hair.  
“She’s sedated because of the breathing tube.  She’s stable, so we’ll be sending her up to ICU as soon as they’re ready.  Any questions?”  Ethan looked at the group expectantly.
“How long?”  Meg’s mom asked.  “How long will she be like this?”
“We don’t know, Mrs. Armstrong.  I expect at least a few days, longer if it takes her airway longer to heal and the swelling to go down.”
When Meg’s family had no further questions, and Brian just stood, gazing down at Meg with her hand in both of his, Ethan moved toward the door.  “I’ll be here if you need anything, and we’ll be in to take her up to ICU in a few minutes.”
Meg’s sister Jodie stood next to Brian with her hand on Meg’s leg.  On Meg’s other side, her father held her other hand, an arm around his wife.
“Thank you, Brian.  For saving her life,” Meg’s father said gruffly.
Brian didn’t know how to respond to that.  It was his job, but he would have run into that burning building to rescue Meg no matter what he did for a living.  
Jodie briefly touched his hand as he held Meg’s.  “She loves you, you know.  She told me.”
Two fat, hot tears overflowed Brian’s eyes at that.  He just let them roll down his cheeks.  “I love her, too.  I haven’t told her yet.  But I do.”
The four of them stood, just looking at Meg’s ghostly pale face, thinking their own thoughts, until Dr. Choi came back into the room with a team of nurses.  “They’re ready for her in ICU,” he said.
The family was ushered out of the room while a brisk but controlled rush of activity took place around Meg.  Quickly, the group began to move, rolling the gurney between them.  
“Come with us,” one of the nurses said, gesturing for Brian and Meg’s family to follow.  Behind the group heading for the elevator, several of the ER staff exchanged worried looks.  They all knew how serious their colleague’s condition was.  
 The next three days were the longest of Brian’s life.  Chief Boden wasn’t at all surprised when Otis told him that he couldn’t leave the hospital while Meg was in such bad shape; he told Otis just to call with updates and not to worry about work.  Brian’s coworkers stopped by as much as they could, but they were still on shift and couldn’t stay.  Brian and Cruz texted at least hourly, and usually more.
Meg’s family took turns sitting with her, but Brian fought a constant battle with well-meaning people who kept trying to get him to go home to sleep.  He had to explain again and again that he simply couldn’t.  The best anyone could do was to get him to stretch out on a couch in the ICU waiting room when Meg’s family was with her, since she could only have two visitors at a time.  Cruz brought him a gym bag with fresh clothes and things, and the staff let him use the shower in their locker room, but he looked like hell and felt worse. Out of sheer exhaustion, he managed to sleep a solid five hours during one late night and early morning, but the rest was a series of fitful naps cobbled together.  
He sat, holding Meg’s cold hand, for hours on end.  Waiting. Just waiting for whatever it was the doctors were looking for before they would know it was all right to take out that damn breathing tube.  Watching and listening to her breathe.  Praying as hard as he ever had in his life.  
On the third day, his Baba came and insisted that he go down to the hospital’s chapel with her.  They prayed silently for a very long time, then prayed out loud together.  After an hour, Brian couldn’t stand it anymore.  He collapsed against the back of the pew and began to cry.  Baba said nothing, simply sat next to him and pulled him toward her so that his head was on her lap.  He wept for what felt like a lifetime, just letting his Baba pat his shoulder with one hand and pet his hair with the other, quietly crooning Russian hymns to him in her soft, gravelly voice.
It helped.  Brian felt lighter afterward, grateful beyond words as he sat up to let his Baba hold him against her and pat his head as she’d done when he was a child.  He wanted to take care of Meg.  All he wanted was to take care of Meg.  But it was nice, for those few hours, to let his Baba take care of him.
It was late in the morning of the fourth day before Meg’s doctors decided that it was time to lighten her sedation and attempt to take her off the ventilator.  They had to do it in a series of slow steps, watching to see how she tolerated each before moving to the next.  Finally, after over twelve hours of progressively weaning her from the ventilator and the breathing tube, the tube was removed and Meg was allowed to awaken fully.  At first, she was groggily conscious but not able to do much more than respond to commands. She couldn’t even keep her eyes open for more than a second or two at a time, but she did make eye contact with Brian and he could see that she knew he was there with her.  
Her parents crowded around her, hugging and kissing her, telling her how much they loved her and how glad they were to see her awake again and breathing on her own.  Her throat was still too damaged to speak back yet, not to mention the frequent coughing fits she had now that she was awake; she could only smile weakly and nod or shake her head.
Brian patiently waited his turn, giving Meg’s parents and sister all the time they needed.  Now that the worst was over, he was content to sit and watch her, just knowing that she was all right.  Soon, though, Meg’s father stepped back and motioned Brian over.
“I know you want to see Brian,” he said.  “He hasn’t left here since they brought you in.  You know it was him who rescued you from the fire.”
Meg’s eyes, still sleepy and slightly bloodshot from the irritation of the smoke, nonetheless sparkled as she looked at Brian and held out her hand to him.  Her smile, while weak and tired, took his breath away.  He didn’t bother trying to stop or hide his tears as he took her hand in both of his and kissed it.
“Pupsik,” he choked. “It’s so good to see you awake. You have no idea.”  
A tear streaked down her face as she sat up and pulled at the front of his shirt until he leaned over and put his arms around her.  She squeezed him as hard as she could, while he did the same, their embrace lasting for so long Brian felt a twinge in his back, although he wouldn’t have let go for all the riches of  the world. She turned her head into him, so that her mouth was near his ear.
“I love you,” she whispered hoarsely, squeezing him even harder as she did.
Brian heaved a quiet sob. “I love you, too, pupsik. I love you, too.”
Although Meg’s parents and sister were standing next to her bed in the bustling ICU, everyone but Brian and Meg might as well have been on another planet as they clung together for long, long moments.
Meg didn’t have much strength to visit with her family and Brian for long, so her eyes soon began to drift closed again.  The Armstrongs decided that, since Meg was off the ventilator and they couldn’t convince Brian to leave the hospital, they would go home for the night and return in the morning.  By that time, Meg was practically asleep.  They said good night, hugged and kissed her again, and softly left the room.
Brian pulled his chair next to the bed and sat down, preparing to hold Meg’s hand again while she slept.  She opened her eyes a crack and gave a huge yawn, which caused her to cough a little, but when she had recovered, she put a hand on Brian’s arm, looking into his face with what he thought might be expectation.
“What is it?  What do you need?”
To Brian’s delighted surprise, Meg grinned a little and crooked a finger for him to come closer. Gently but gladly, he leaned toward her as she put a hand on his shoulder to pull him to her.  Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss.   She collapsed back on her pillow afterward, and she fell asleep with her lips ever-so-slightly curved in a private smile.
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jack-andthestalk · 6 years ago
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Our Son, Arc II, Obligations, Chp 5.
So almost 3000 words.
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My heart literally hurt yesterday to see that the beautiful @kalendraashtar felt she couldn't continue writing because of horrible anons. It is 100% jealousy, and they are pathetic bitter individuals, who hide behind anonymity. Anyway I want to dedicate this chapter to her because if it wasn't for her her inspiring work I would never have typed a word of fanfic. I don't have an ounce of her gift but I will keep writing anway!I ​ 
Anyways thank you for your comments and asks, it fuels the fire guys! I want to thank @balfeheughlywed and @ladyviolethummingbird  who got me to move the first section of this chapter to a later one and they were so right because I am so much happier with the flow. There is reference to NSFW language below the cut.
Brian patted my hand, a tight smile swept across his face. “There ye are Jamie lad, I was just about to tell ye that I found Claire!” his tone overly light, nervous almost.
Jamie nodded, arms folded defensively keeping his eyes locked on me. “Aye,” he said plainly.
  Brian sensing the tension, made one final attempt at smoothing the waters, “Son I have told Claire that this is not our wish for ye, I ken that might not help yer explanations but…I”
Before Brian could finish his sentence, Jamie’s face grew grim. “This is bullshit” he snarled, “I am damned if I do and damned if I don’t”,  pointing one finger at his father “you absolving yourself of my decisions isna going to make things any better, so dinna bother trying that judicious bullshit with me!” he spat.
  Brian visibly flinched at his words, but he walked towards Jamie calmly, eyes full of sympathy. “I am sorry son. I ken this is very difficult on ye.”
  Before we could speak another word, Willie came bounding energetically into the stables, and we all made a conscious effort to take a step back. 
  “Ma” Willie shouted excitedly “Me and Da have been looking for ye all morning!”, he jumped up into my arms “Where have ye been?” his brows creased together questioningly. “Oh well” I replied, infusing a brightness in my tone that I didn’t feel, “I have been out walking and helping Grandda.”
  Willie nodded acceptingly. “How many friends can I invite to the wedding?” he blurted out, his mind running onto his next plan. 
“The what?” I asked my addled brain failing to follow Willie’s quick turnaround.
  “yer and Da’s wedding,” Willie explained rolling his eyes. “I wanna invite my new friends from School.”
  Jamie stepped forward, taking Willie from my arms. “As many as ye like son”, ignoring my half opened mouth he smiled reassuringly at Willie.
  Brian cleared his throat and started shuffling towards the stable door. “Come with me a bhalaich” Brian beckoned; Willie duly leapt from Jamie’s arms to follow his grandfather.
  “Don’t do that” I hissed as soon as Willie was out of earshot.
  “Claire,” Jamie said ignoring my temper. “Will ya let me explain” his hands outstretched pleadingly.
  “your father has explained it all” I said and stormed off.
_________________
  If my dress had sleeves, they would be wrung within my fingers nervously. "Fuck", I muttered to myself "I am too soft that's my problem".
    The three swift brandies I had downed before arriving had numbed my yapping stomach but done nothing to quench the anxiety roaring around my body.
I had no one to blame for my attendance at this farce but myself, given that my first thought this morning was to board a plane to Boston. My resolve had weakened under Jenny's pleading words.
    "Ya ken mam willna ask it of ye, but she has invited everybody and their mother to this party, if ye dinna show with Jamie, she will would be shamed", seeing my expression she held her hand up haltingly, " I ken right now yer not too concerned of shaming Jamie, but I know ye willna shame mam."
  My answer was quick and wounding "I will do it for Ellen." I said sharply, stamping out the flash of hope that flickered across Jamie’s face.
  Jamie's soft knock on the bedroom door came sometime later, "Are ye ready Sassenach?" his anger from earlier had dissipated somewhat, and instead his eyes held a sadness, the sight was like an invisible hand churning my gut. Part of me longed to pull him to me, missing the solid feel of him but I was still too sore to bridge the gap.
    To occupy my mind and avoid Jamie, I had spent more than the average amount of time readying myself for a party. If I dressed as if going to battle, it might conjure up bravery I didn't own, and to hide the utter devastation that I felt inside. I would be damned if the Dunsany's would know what they cost me.
  Jamie's face when I opened the door, fortified me with just enough courage to face them. "Ye are stunning," he said simply.
__________________
"I dinna want the Dunsany's in my home either" Ellen whispered as we entered through the kitchen door, "but they will be gone tomorrow, and for now we will hold our heads high, aye?"
I heard her message and greeted each guest as warmly as I could.
  Yielding to Jamie's warm hand on the small of my back, just as much an act of compromise as need.
    The Fraser's neighbours and friends eyed me with a mixture of curiosity and something like compassion. I was a stranger, the Sassenach pet name Jamie called me was somewhat different on their tongues.
  To most of them, Jamie's engagement came entirely out of the blue, and they weren't even aware that we were dating, which technically we weren't.
  The flow of congratulations, followed with "sure it will be lovely for Willie" spoke volumes. Our engagement perceived as a necessity, an arrangement almost. Just a girl Jamie had got pregnant, and now he was doing the decent thing by marrying her.
    Everything coloured by the move to Hellwater, I couldn't see our story anymore. Focusing only on the bare facts of mine and Jamie's history, I saw myself from their eyes. A mistake.
    Panic and humiliation were fighting each other for dominance in my mind.
  My status as an obligation was driven home when I heard an elderly neighbour of the Fraser's bend to Jamie's ear. His ruddy cheeks wobbling in merriment "Ye got caught son" he said nudging Jamie playfully in the ribs, "happens to the best of us...our Ann was six months gone when I married her, ye did well to escape the ould ball and chain for four years."
  Jamie's head snapped instantly to me first and then he lent to the man again, muttering something between gritted teeth and stormed away leaving me alone with strangers.
  Hours seemed to pass since I lost Jamie's presence by my side. I  listened to stories I had no part in or knowledge of. I was ignoring the stares and curious looks and raging silently with him for leaving me.
  I pressed my lips together to try and still the scream that threatened to fall from my mouth.
     “Claire?”  Jenny's concerned face was peering at me.
  I moved across the room, away from her searching for an exit I bumped straight into Jamie. Geneva Dunsany trailing behind him, "where are ye going?"
  He was leaning over me, not helping the circulation of air I so desperately needed. “It doesn't matter, I can’t do this”, I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, I glanced over his shoulder at Geneva and Jamie followed my stare, he turned back to me quickly to say something but before he had uttered a word a cold hand reached for my forearm.
  Geneva Dunsany's concerned eyes watching me "Claire are you ok? You've gone a terrible shade."
    "Fine," I said smiling tightly.
  Her blue eyes gazed at me sympathetically this coinciding with Jamie's equally concerned expression made me want to slap something, was he with her when he left me alone? "Look I am sure none of this is easy," she said mildly, "newly engaged and about to be separated."
  Jamie moved a step closer to me as if anticipating my propensity to turn violent. "I just want you to know that we will take excellent care of him" she smiled sweetly.
"I dinna need your family's care Geneva, I am there under coercion. let us be clear, aye?."
  Suddenly it was too much, Geneva's wounded face, Jamie's defensive words. They were all involved in this mess, and I no longer wanted to be.
  Bolting for the nearest door, I breathed apologies while squeezing myself between guests as I left.
   _______
  It was an hour later when Jamie snuck into the stables behind me. "I thought ye went home," he said quietly, tentatively edging closer to me as if approaching a spooked horse.
  "Home?" I snorted sarcastically "and where would that be?"
  Jamie took a moment to consider "I would like to say yer home is with me, but I dinna think ye see it that way anymore?"
  I was at a loss for how to answer him. "Do you have any idea how it felt in that room? I have never felt so alone... so... " searching for a word to sum up how I felt, "so far from home" I finished, hoping that he couldn't hear the break in my voice.
    When his hand snuck around to pull me close, I shrank from his touch.
    "I am so sorry Claire" he held on firmly, ignoring the attempt to sever myself from him.
  "Sorry?" I asked disbelievingly "sorry doesn't come close, Jamie."
    His face fell, and his hand rose to cup my cheek.  Eyes brimming with tears,  I could see the exhaustion weighing down his shoulders.
  Fixing my eyes on a vacant point on the floor, I bit my bottom lip,  it hurt to look at him.
    "Do ye think it is easy for me Claire? It's like ripping my heart out and living without it" his voice falling to a whisper at the final word. Swallowing hard and blinking rapidly, he moved towards me.
  “Do ye not think I am fucking broken at the thoughts of leaving ye?” he persisted.
My mouth curled up in a sneer, "and here you are still only thinking of how this affects you, Jesus Jamie" I snapped.
  His hands reached out and held me firm by my forearms. There was no sound but a ragged drawing of breath. He stood staring at me, eyes searching up and down my face.
  "What would you have me do? Let them leave my parents without a home, a business? Throw away everything they have worked for?"
  "What I would have had you do is not put all that at jeopardy without getting fucking advice first" I spat.
Something flickered in his eyes before he roared "fuck" and kicked an upturned bucket halfway across the stable. Running his hand through his hair he turned from me, his head thrown back.
  I wasn't done.
  "No matter how I look at it, I can't get past that we are not your priority, we weren't your priority when Willie was born, and we aren't your priority now," I said flatly.
    “Claire” Jamie breathed, “That couldna be further from the truth” he shook his head incredulously.
  "This is pointless" I retorted rolling my eyes, "you can't even see what your actions mean Jamie?"
  His bewildered glare told me he didn't have a clue.
    "Look," I said feigning reason. "Our circumstances have changed. It's like you proposed a lifetime ago. I am not naive enough to think that Willie and I may have seen like an obligation."
  Jamie's eyes widened, and he put his hands up haltingly, moving in small steps to stand in front of me.
  "Obligation?" he asked incredulously. I didn't answer, the whispers and swirls of gossip still circulating in my mind from the party.
  "Claire" he breathed, one side of his mouth turning up in a smile. "When I asked ye to marry me, I meant every word, it doesna matter what happens around us Sassenach, what it is between us doesna change."
  His imploring eyes and soft intake of breath made me want to fall into his arms, but Jamie's reluctance to admit the enormous problem our future faced grated on me.
    “Oh ok, so when do you think we should get married then? Where do you think we should live?
When he opened his mouth and failed to say something.  My lips curled up into a sly smile. "The truth is, the day you agreed to move to Hellwater, you ended any future you and I could have."
  Jamie's mouth dropped open, but something close to recognition passed over his face.
  I raised my hand halting the start of his protests, and my voice trembled slightly when I said  "it's not just because we will be separated, your actions speak volumes, Jamie. I gave up everything to come to you, and yet again, Willie and I are down the pegging order."
    His eyes flashed angrily, and he loomed over me "Do – ye – not – think – I – regret –it" he said through gritted teeth.
    "I don't fucking know; maybe it is what you want? Running the show at Hellwater, everyone thinking you're some sort of fucking demigod come horse whisperer, maybe you get your kicks out of that, hmm?"
  Jamie's eyes went as wide as stalks, his hands bunching into fists at his sides before he sent one pounding against the wooden frame behind me. I was reasonably sure I had never witnessed Jamie so furious. I revelled in it, matching his glare with gusto.
    “Are ye crazy?” he asked incredulously. Part of my brain was begging me to stop this before Jamie’s head blew clean of his shoulders, the other half wanted me to provoke him until he said something he couldn’t take back and I would have justification for my loathing.
    Jamie grabbed the top of the gate of the horse stall directly behind me, my eyes followed his hand, and I could see the whites of his knuckles as he gripped it. He was boxing me in, leaning over me to demonstrate his power, it irked me considerably.
  I cleared my throat and gave him a smile that didn't quite meet my eyes. My voice was like honey now.
  "Look you'll be fine I am sure…those Dunsany sisters will be certain to make you feel welcome, I think one of them might even want to fuck you too…so your bed will be warm", the cold gaze that I gave him under my lashes was the perfect accompaniment to the utter filth I was suddenly capable of spouting.
    Jamie grabbed me roughly “What the hell has gotten into ye?” he growled. “Oh come on” I persisted. “You’re pretending it’s a death sentence…when I am sure the Lady Geneva will make it an altogether more enjoyable affair”, my disused British accent now slanted, mocking.
  A rumble came from Jamie’s chest that I knew was going to exit his mouth as a roar.
“Ye think I want to fuck somebody else, is that it Claire, ye think I want to leave you and Willie so I can fuck Geneva Dunsany?”
    I turned my face away, staring at nothing on the wall. "Answer me!!" Jamie roared.
  Turning completely, back to his face I breathing deeply trying to calm myself.
  Jamie's warm breath came fast against my ear. A spiteful tone to his words.
    “Well more fool me because you are the only woman I want to fuck even when yer out of your mind!”
  He pulled me back against him, his fingers pressing into my hips until my bottom met his cock. Hard, aching.
  "Can ye feel that" he hissed against my neck.
  "Even - now," he said haltingly. "I want ye when ye canna even look at me."
  He was rousing something in me that I wasn't sure what to do with.
Heat spread through every inch of me at his touch.
  Another breath.
  "I only want you” he whispered.
II craved him, anger be damned, intense pleasure clawed up my spine and I rotated my hips against him. Teasing.
  "Can ye no look at me then?" teeth snaking into my neck, his chin heavy on my shoulder.
    "No," I said hoarsely "I can't".
    "Do ye want me?"
  "Jamie" I pleaded. "This won't help" My body sending a different message as I slipped my hand back and ran it over his arousal, which earned me an eager groan and a breathy "fuck".
    Slow and steady Jamie's hand crept up the hem of my dress, sure fingers gliding up my thigh until he reached between my legs and felt the wetness there. "Ye do want me," he said while biting and licking the soft skin below my ear.
  Jamie's hand journeyed down my arm and he entwined our fingers where my hand rested above the gate. One knee shoving my legs apart he continued to move his fingers inside of me, teasing the wetness there. I could barely breathe around the need.
  Moaning loudly I thrust my bottom against him, and Jamie drew in a sharp breath.
   I wasn't aware of one other coherent thought, but the sound of the metal clang of his belt buckle hitting the floor as he dropped his pants, and his fist driving himself inside of me.  Losing all heed for where we were or who might see.
  Over and over we punished each other every time Jamie thrust into me, I pushed back.
  Frantic breaths and screams were barely audible over the pelting wind and rain outside. Furious coiling, in my belly, when Jamie slid his hand down to our joining I bowed over at the waist, his soft cries of "Jesus Sassenach" as he stilled and came inside, was just low enough that I wouldn't hear his voice break.
  He slumped over me and grasped me to him. We stood like that not moving and buried deep until Jamie's voice came back against my ear, he pressed a wet cheek against my neck.
   "Are ye going to leave me, Claire?"
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okgoldendoll · 4 years ago
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I've been saying for months that I need a journal. A place to place my thoughts and share my days. A way to reflect, release and remember. With that said I guess I'll start today March 4, 2021. Also seeing as I don't have a journal I'll just post here for now. Lol it's not like anyone will read it anways. Grammar, punctuation will not be taken into consideration in these journal posts. I just gotta get this shit out as fast as possible.
It's 11:24pm at night, I just got of the phone with my partner. A few hours prior I was on the phone with my therapist, confidant aka R. We spoke about asking probing questions, intensional questions, and the importance of communication in a relationship. We also spoke about a goal I had set to do better at reaching out to my friends. Anways during this conversation I asked R for her take on what's a consider to be something lacking in my romantic relationship, communication.
This was something that weighed heavily on my mind at the start of my relationship. In that communication, banter, feelings sharing ect is and has always been extremely important to me. Most relationships I treasure the most are with those I feel I can have deep and meaningful conversation with. But I felt that was something I wanted and have continuesly wanted to cultivate in the relationship I'm in at the moment. I often found and was deeply crushed when my attempts to foster such a relationship was met with resistance and being accused of being argumentative. This cut deeply because that has never been my intention. After speaking with R she advised me that is communication is something I feelmis lacking them I should let my partner know that I value and want to hear there opinions. Inspired by her advised I tried this an hour later in conversation. Least be said the response I got was startlingly painful. I could just be overly sensitive but knowing who I am I doubt that. I started of the conversation by talking about the conversation I had with Rana on how much communication is important to me. Then lead into adding that I would love to hear his opinion more often. And that if he's shy it's alright. Essential I think I was just pushing to get an understanding of why it's usually just me talking. He said that he doesn't like over the phone conversation. Which is fair but in that same token he's just as combative when it comes to deep conversation in person but that's a whole nother story. I assured him that yes I understand his not liking phone conversations but I reconfirmed that I'm not a probing person and in loving him I just want to get his insite and opinions on topics. He got frustrated on told me he's not like me and can't speak for hours about one topic or the same topic over and over. He said that's he doesn't have an opinion to share on the topics I bring up because they're girly/girl topics and he has nothing to say about them. I was BAFFLED you would think I was speaking to him about periods or makeup or something. I was literally stunned into silence because my instant reaction was to be combative and as how what I talked about is a gendered topic. I had literally spoke to him about wanting to have a calendar, becoming better at reaching out to people, goal setting, I spoke to home about communication, and lastly about the delay Sebastian cousin situation. So you can image how confused I was to be told these are considered girl topics. Then we went on to say he has no opinions about any of those things and those are things I'd talk to my girls about. I was actually so upset. He then said when I called you I just wanted to say hi I didn't think you'd want to talk for ages. So I took that as in I don't want to talk to you. So I said to that. Oh so you didn't want to talk to me? And he said no I do but I was in the middle of a game with my boys and I just wanted to say hi. I think I realized at this point that being hurt by the whole situation would literally just escalate things so I was silent for a bit collected myself and clarified that all I wanted was to let him know that if love to hear his thoughts and opinions more often. I didn't expect him to have something to say about everything but that id just like to have or hear him speaking more often rather than it just be me talking all the time for ages. Journal sometimes it can feel like I'm talking to myself, what a scary thought to speak to someone for hours only to come from the conversation having received notbibg from them. I might as well just record myself talking.
Anyways the conversation ended amicably. But I'm still stunned from the shock disappointment I left with. In hindsight it could just be bad timing I was looking for a conversation of merit in a moment where someone didn't have the time or patients to do so. Or is this something bigger than that. For months of carried the idea I'm my heart that something is lacking in this relationship. As much as I can love someone what are the things I need and desire in a relationship that I can do without. Communication has always been one of this things but I never appreciate the importance because with past relationships is was just a natural and free flowing chasm. I've never felt dissatisfaction in my partner's ability to communicate. And it's odd because I feel upset for finding fault in this because he's perfect in so many other ways. Also I should note when I say lacking in communication I don't mean in not contacting. He is never lets a day go by where he doesn't speak to me. What I mean is I find what lacks is deep meaningful conversations. The conversation that have you feeling like you bared your soul to another human being and they saw you, understood you. Those conversations that begin at dusk and carry on until dawn. The conversation that lead you through the past, present and future experience with someone. That leaves you feeling like youve been heard and understood in ways that you've never been understood it heard nefoy. I don't know if you can understand or if you've ever felt it but moments like that...they just  leave you
Feeling that you found your other half.
The all incompusing dissapointment that moments like today leave with could make me cry. I fighting with the idea that not everyone is like you. Perhaps some people are just who they are and it's only you who desires to love in such away. But if that be the case then does that mean I need to find someone who fulfills this desire. Based on past experiences I know there are men who have never led me to feel such a lacking in our relationships. I also wonder am I not being patient or understanding enough. Is this a guy think, is it hyper masculinity, is it just a lack of skill...is this something that can be worked on.if it is something that. An be worked on do I want to stay and work on this. Do all the other amazing things I love about this man outway this desire. I'm not sure if it's even a desire I believe this is something I ABSOLUTELY MUST have in a relationship. Soni see myself having the ability to continue and faster a strong loving relationship if I don't feel the person I love communicated in a ways that I understand and in the same way that I communicate.
Oh my gosh yes that what it is! It's like we're speaking to different languages. And the more I try to communicate and get my words accross I'm met with frustration, anger and dismissal. How much more dismissal can I take...
I previously let it go with the thought oh well some people are just not good at conversations but as long as I live them and they are amazing in other ways I thought it would be enough. But slowly the desire to have shared deep and meaningful conversation returns because that's just who I am and everytime I'm always left feeling an empty feeling that something is t right something is lacking. And it genuinely breaks my heart.
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girl4music · 7 years ago
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I have been so busy I haven’t been able to get round to writing this review but now I can. Kelly Clarkson’s new, and debut album signed to Atlantic Records, ‘Meaning Of Life’ has been an album I have been enjoying and playing on replay as much as I have Demi Lovato’s ‘Tell Me You Love Me’. Self-proclaimed as “soulful”, “jazzy” and “funky”, she really delivers from all areas of her wide vocal range and profiency in using it. But more than that, the material itself is really good too. It’s not just Kelly belting out and trying to make the song sound appealing. The songs are appealing stand-a-lone. They are well-written songs that tell us where Kelly is so far in her music career and life as a mother and wife. She’s talked about how this album is more her as a vocalist. She does things with her voice you haven’t heard from her previously, that really stand out. And you can hear it so well in the songs because they’re just so fantastically produced both musically and vocally. It’s pure clarity. Sometimes even sounds live recorded. She also talked about how this record is 100% her and that she did not have to compromise at all on it. Creatively she could do what she wanted and ask for what she wanted and it would be within the budget without having to say “well, if I get this, I’ll do what you want” which is something she has had to do a lot in the past with her music. Compromising and sacrificing on who she is as an artist just to even get a good enough budget to put the album out. Not naming names... but yeah, he made her life as an artist a living Hell.
Anway, let’s get on to the track by track review. I’m just gonna keep the explanations short because I want to stay focused on the main point. Which is just how different this album is compared to her previous ones. Short and sweet.
1. ‘A Minute (Intro)’
We have an introduction to the album. Ala... X-tina ‘Stripped’ style. Just telling us what this album is all about for her. She just needs some time to unwind and enjoy her life. No rating for this as it’s not really a song. But it’s cool that she’s brought the intro/interlude/outro thing back. I’ve missed that.
2. ‘Love So Soft’
Now we have the debut single to the album. When I first heard this I was surprised how different the style of music was that she was going for. But that’s what signing to a new label gives you. The oppotunity to do something totally different from previous material. Very soulful track. Not really a stand out for me though, apart from the Eb6 head note in the last chorus. That was so amazing to hear from her as she rarely ever uses falsetto, let alone full on head voice, much like someone else I could mention. Both wanting to try something different with their voices than just powerhouse belting. This track was a great choice for a debut single for that reason. So people can hear that Kelly can be more than boombox. Delivering her inner-Aretha soul diva.
8/10
3. ‘Heat’
This track offers more of a pop vibe than the previous track. It’s pretty much a power pop song but with soulful instances, very typical for Clarkson. But I suppose she’s gotta keep bits of her old self musically for the veteran fans. Not really one of my favourites simply because I’ve heard too much of it from her and it’s not necessarily anything different in general from what’s playing on radio either. If originality is something you want from ‘Meaning Of ;Life’, skip this track.
2/10
4. ‘Meaning Of Life’
The title track gets to the real deal ‘soul’ sound Clarkson was promising of the album. ‘Meaning Of Life’ has a church-organ and a choir and it’s stunning to listen to when it gets going. One of my favourites from the album for sure, and worthy enough of being the track that also is the title of the album.
9/10
5. ‘Move You’
When you get to this track, you’ll be floored. ‘Move You’ is the big ballad of the album. The epitome of the album. And for me, it’s the best song on the album and my most favourite. From everything to the musical and vocal production to the vocals to the lyrics to the background voices... it just floors me. I absolutely love how it goes from a simple slow intimate track with Kelly using her lower register to an all out Gospel anthem with a string ochestra and that church-organ again and of course... the choir. Absolutely incredible track.
10/10!
6. ‘Whole Lotta Woman’
This track stands out immediately. It’s a jazz/soul song. Sassy and bold. Kelly has done jazz before with her Christmas album ‘Wrapped In Red’ but it’s amazing to hear it from her 8th studio album. Really showing what she can do with the genre. Again, much like something from X-tina. This time ‘Back To Basics’ style. A real Aretha anthem. I really love it.
10/10
7. ‘Medicine’
What makes this track really intresting is the almost hip-hop style line after the main chorus and the bass vocals following after that repeating the title. Again, very soulful, sassy and strong. As Clarkson always does so well.
7/10
8. ‘Cruel’
Another old-timey Soul track. Actually more of a Motown vibe going on in this one. Sounds like something Meghan Trainor would of written for her debut ‘Title’ album. With the quick-lipped lyrics tightly wound into a legato vocal structure. Kelly really goes for it here with the head voice. So beautiful to hear the purity of her light-lyric soprano tone when she hits those falsetto and mixed notes. Like I said, it’s just such a rarity to hear that side of her range. Really makes this song stand out.
10/10
9. ‘Didn’t I’
Back to the jazz and the musical fullness of ‘Whole Lotta Woman’. Trumpets and trombones sounding off everywhere. Extremely well musically and vocally produced. Less pop, more soul always works best with Clarkson as she has such a huge vocal range and incredible control with it. But not a stand out considering ‘Whole Lotta Woman’ just does this so much better.
5/10
10. ‘Would You Call That Love’
Another power pop song but it has interesting tempo changes, making it sound more progressive in chord progression and compositional structure. But the musical sound itself is very digitally enhanced and processed that Kelly’s vocals don’t stand out half as much as they would given it had better vocal production. Probably the worst song on the album.
1/10
11. ‘I Don’t Think About You’
Back to the balladry. This song is gorgeous. The piano, the vocals, THE HEAD VOICE, backing vocals, chorus, strings. Everything. I love absolutely everything about this track. It’s another high peak for the album in terms of it’s ‘soul’ sound. Worthy of being a single. R&B/Soul radio station would eat this up!
10/10
12. ‘Slow Dance’
Again, Trainor immediately pops into my head listening to this. Maybe Clarkson should collaborate with her. They’d sound great together. And the musical production on this track really appeals to me. Especially that blues guitar solo. That lifts this track into the stratosphere. Totally and completely.
7/10
13. ‘Don’t You Pretend’
This would be a ballad if it wasn’t for the tempo of the chorus which picks up in BPM past the limit boundary of ballad territory. Something I’d like to point out in this track that might not have been thought of yet. This song has a backing vocal rhythm line in it that reminds me of a Christmas song. I don’t know which one. I’m still trying to pinpoint it. Maybe you guys could tell me what it is. A D6 head note protrudes from the musical production that takes you by surprise. I’m still reeling from how much head voice Clarkson has given us in this album. She really restricted that part of her voice in previous albums. Again, I just have to express how happy I am that she’s changed labels.
6/10
14. ‘Go High’
This is like the only track on the entire album that has prominent electronic elements. Vocal effects and modulations, drum-machine beats and weird computerized sounds you’d hear in a trap or trip-hop song. Kinda reminds me of something Sia would do because while it’s electronic... it’s also quite sophisticated and doesn’t sound out of place for Clarkson as she brings in the soul a little later in the duration of the song. I don’t hate it, but I wish she hadn’t made it the ender of ‘Meaning Of Life’. Something else would have been better to end off the album in my opinion.
3/10
That’s it for my review as there is no Deluxe Edition. This is the order of most favourite to least favourite:
1. Move You
2. I Don’t Think About You
3. Cruel
4. Meaning Of Life
5. Whole Lotta Woman
6. Love So Soft
7. Slow Dance
8. Medicine
9. Don’t You Pretend
10. Didn’t I
11. Go High
12. Heat
13. Would You Call That Love
Your opinion may differ and that’s completely fine. This is just mine. I like all tracks in the album of course but least favourites have to go somewhere.
Thanks for reading.
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smittyryker · 8 years ago
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What The Glade Needs (Newt)
This was requested by @heartinhobbiton; Thank you so much for your intricate request. I hope you like reading it as much as I loved writing it. Xoxo!
Cold metal tickled the exposed skin of your forearms as you awoke from a box, which looked more like a giant cage to you. You huffed a breath in and shook as the box rumbled around. Instincts came to you quickly, and you shot up in a sitting position, wrists touching the chilled man-made enclosure. Trying to grasp hold onto an idea of what the hell was going on didn’t work, no matter how hard you had willed your mind for it to.
The box resounded until it halted to a quick jolt, and then there was an opening in the structure. Blinding sun shot through the crack that grew wider and wider, and your arm immediately flew to shield your eyes from the light. The door of the box clattered when a person jumped down to you with a thump. You would have scattered to your feet if you weren’t scared out of your wits.
You finally got a clear look at them when your eyes adjusted to the brightness and you put your arm down. It was a boy with a hard stare, as if he were attempting to look comforting. You fingured that was the intention, at least, but it was giving you a terrible vibe.
Once he saw the sheer terror in your eyes, though, he staggered back. You thought that was the reason, anyway.
“Hey, it’s a girl,” he said loudly, but it came out softly at the same time.
Several gasps and fast-talking urged you to look up further to the people surrounding the opening. They were all boys.
You scooted backwards as your chest heaved, snapping your neck down so your eyes were glued to your lap. You didn’t want to risk looking at them, for it would give them an inclination to speak to you more. Stupid logic, you knew. Maybe you just didn’t want to be greeted by a group of boys you had never before seen.
It then dawned on you that you didn’t even know yourself. Your brain lurched to figure out your name, where you came from— anything— but you came up short every time you racked your mind.
Another boy, one that looked older than the boy who had tried to greet you (you assumed) had hopped down to the box, in front of you. He kneeled down and said something you couldn’t quite make out until he repeated himself.
“Greenie.”
This was all too weird, and you had an overwhelming feeling the situation you were in was dreadful. An inpulsive decision brought your legs to move, after so long of being stunned into the same position.
You, in a hurried movement, hoisted yourself out of the box. As your head was level with the other boys, a whale of nerves were thrown at you like a stack of bricks. All the ones you could see were taller than you; plenty taller and bigger. You needed speed to be on your side for your next move.
Like a lightening bolt, you pushed and elbowed your way through the crowd all the while sprinting as fast as you possibly could.
You would have ran until your legs gave out if you had seen a few boys run up to catch you, but you hadn’t until they were already on your tail. Once you saw them, it only made you run harder than you had previously.
To your dismay, though, five of them were a lot speedier than just yourself.
As one of them jumped and thrusted themselves on you, your back smacked against the grassy ground. A muffled groan ripped from your lips.
“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” A distant voice called out. He came closer and closer, but you couldn’t look at him because of the boy straddling you. If this was the way he tried keeping you calm, he really didn’t know what he was accomplishing.
As the boy who had called out approached you, the boy who had been on top of you rolled off, apologies flying from his mouth. Panting, you brought yourself to sit once more with your wrists holding up your body; this time your wrists were brushed by grass.
“I’m sorry I jumped on you like that,” he said, kneeling down to meet your gaze. You couldn’t find any words to reply back to him, so you just sat there, terrified.
“Wha- What is this place? Where am I?” You asked, getting more anxious by the second. Your hands turned clammy and you willed your legs to stand, but to no avail. “Who are you? Who the hell are you people?” You spluttered out.
“I’m Newt.” It didn’t make you feel any better, especially because of him tackling you only moments before.
A deep-skinned boy appeared from behind him and he bent down in front of you. “A real life girl. Why would they do that?” He asked, but you could only assume it was to no one in particular, since he didn’t get any soft of response. It only bubbled confusion inside you.
Before your mind could race to the topic further, he introduced himself. ”I’m Alby. Welcome to the Glade.”
“Am I supposed to know what that is?” You asked desperately, the fact dawning on you that you knew of no one and nothing here.
The remaining population of boys encircled the three of you. You felt suffocated by the strangers and began coughing, pushing the boys from being so close.
“Get away from me,” you breathed. The two boys nearest to you exchanged an nervous glance, their attention moving quickly back to you.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” the boy with a darker complexion promised.
The words pounded inside your head like a mantra, but you knew it was too difficult to have confidence in. You had no idea who any of the humans in the Glade were. “How am I supposed to believe that?”
The boy who first sprung down to welcome you forced himself through the group and turned to face them all. “Get away from the shuck girl! Don’t you slintheads have any sense?”
A wheezing sound came out of your throat as you rocked yourself gently. “Oh shuck,” the boy that appeared eldest of the three said. He pushed himself off the ground and turned on his heel. “I’m getting Clint and Jeff. Newt, help her!”
The blonde boy put his hand on your shoulder and whispered, ”Hey. It’s okay,” to which you shook your head feverishly. Your head was spinning and every inch of your body felt like it was floating away from you. You were becoming detached.
“We’re not going to hurt you. We’re going to help you,” he cooed. After your breathing seemed to steady, he retreated his hand back to perch on his leg.
You nodded at the boy as you took a few deep breaths. “I’ll- Do you need some water?” He asked in a hushed tone, probably careful not to startle you once more. A humming sound from your throat indicated that you weren’t in the mood for a beverage, or to talk. That should be what he was doing: Explaining what the hell was going on.
He sighed, and crossed his legs. “We were all brought here the same way as you. No one knows who brought us here, but we’re looking for a way out. One day we’ll find one,” he said, looking off into the distance as he did.
You felt your brow perk up and he looked at you again. “There’s a way out somehow. We just haven’t yet found it. But we will,” he assured, shaking his head up and down slowly.
Again, it didn’t make you feel any better; but he made a better effort to get you to calm down now, so part of it was working. Better than being merely assaulted, anway.
As if he read your thoughts, the boy began to speak of his actions, and you right then had noticed the accent laced in his voice. Something about it was comforting you. You didn’t hear the accent in your own voice when you talked.
“I’m sorry about me jumping on you. I really am. We just can’t have people running off like that.”
You raised an eyebrow at him. “Safety reasons, you know,” he added.
You would have scoffed if he didn’t seem so kind. His eyes were warm, and he looked as promising as he sounded; which at first wasn’t promising at all, but now seemed more reliable than anyone else you’d encountered.
Speaking of, the black boy returned with two companions. He leaned down to be closer to earshot. “These here are Clint and Jeff,” he said, pointing at each of them. You nodded, and your eyes went to looking at the natural surroundings.
“They’re Medjacks. You ever don’t feel well and they’ll take care of ya. It’s their job,” he went on.
You didn’t answer him. There was nothing to say that you couldn’t tell to the lankier boy. Your silence made him clear his throat. “Anyway, you need anything, ask me or him,” he told you, pressing his thumb to his chest, them his index finger to Newt’s.
“I’m the one in charge, he’s my Second-in-Command. He’ll show you around.” He turned to the Brit. “Won’t he?” Newt nodded.
“Good,” Alby inquired, placing his hands on Clint and Jeff’s shoulders.
“We’re all settled in, then. I’ll have Gally build you somewhere private to sleep, and do whatever girls do. When you’re not helping out, I mean.”
He continued to tell you the three rules of the Glade, but you had barely heard him. He, without rough intent, clapped you on the shoulder and bit you and Newt goodbye. You watched him as he walked away with the two aids, until Newt had caught your attention again.
“I know this all is confusing. I remember when I first came up in the box,” he started, but never finished. You wondered what him being welcomed into the Glade was like.
“Why am I here?” You quizically asked, hoping he would give you an answer that wasn’t transparent.
“Specifically, I don’t know. Theoretically,” he said with a slight smile, “it’s because a newbie comes up in the box every month, along with supplies, food, all those lovely things.”
For the first time in the Glade, you cracked a grin. “I guess.”
Newt’s back was to him, but a young boy emerged from a hut with a glass of water and handed it to you. You took it without asking, trying to push out some manners but not finding the words. Instead, you smiled weakly at him.
He smiled back; what a cute, chubby kid he was. You felt a bit of happiness rise when he asked Newt to sit with you two, and he answered agreeably.
“I’m Chuck,” the young boy smiled. “Thanks to you, I’m not the Greenie anymore.”
Newt cracked a small smirk. “Yeah, yeah.”
You might have smiled, too, if you had known what he was referring to. “What’s a Greenie?”
“Like a newbie,” Newt informed, using the same word you had responded well to.
You waved your finger at him in newfound knowledge. “I see.”
Newt stayed quiet for a few seconds until asking hesitantly for your name. Your eyes widened, knowing you couldn’t answer him, and his hand went to touch your shoulder.
“Hush, it’s alright. Your name will come to you in a couple days at most.”
You chewed on your bottom lip and settled into the grassy patch you sat on, exhaling smoothly.
The next few hours went on like that, and you were shocked at how fast time went by. It was like you finally were coming to your senses; you even remembered your name: Y/N. You were nowhere near as nervous as you were when you first got there, only some time before.
Chuck was being called to help out with dinner when Newt stood up, offering his hand. You took it with little hesitance and he pulled you up, catching you when you stumbled backwards.
“Sorry,” you said sheepisly, pressing your palms gently to his chest and turning around, letting him lead.
He shook his head and grinned back at you. “Happens all the time.”
“Oh, does it?”
He makes a ‘Yes’ sound, and urges for you to follow him, to which you do.
Newt gestures towards many others working on a hut. Much of them were carrying planks of wood, if not tools and small buckets. “I’m assuming that’s where they’re making your hut. You’re lucky. You don’t have to sleep near the other bastards in bloody hammocks.”
“Good that,” you hear yourself say; a phrase Chuck and Newt had used as you were speaking to them earlier.
Newt turned to flash a smile before spinning back forwards. “You’re catching on quick.”
“I figure it could only help me,” you shrug, a lopsided smile painted on your face for the time.
He goes on to talk about the different structures; the Deadheads, the Homestead, the Kitchen, the Medjack Hut, and all that. He then begins on the types of jobs, and you try to take in as much information as you can hold for one day. Newt seems to realize.
“I know this is a lot. Here, Frypan’s making dinner. Should be done soon,” he says, nodding in the direction of the Kitchen, where he serves the food. You especially remembered that part. Your stomach was growling in hunger.
Chuck finds you, and passes you the first meal. It was stew, with some pieces of bread on the side. To your silent approval, you noticed yours had more pieces than anybody elses. You needed it after such an emotionally-draining and generally tiring day.
Newt sat down and patted the seat beside him; Chuck sitting across from you. There wasn’t much talking as you practically scarfed down your dinner.
The young one smiled as he watched. “You’re doing better than I did. I wouldn’t eat anything.”
Newt’s jaw slacked as he threw one of his hands up to point at Chuck, dead in the face. “What a buggin’ lie that is!” He exclaimed, and Chuck shushed him, laughing.
“Come on, man,” he said with a chortle. “You gotta give me some credit.” Chuck winked at Newt, but all he got was a confused look in return.
“For what? Klunking your pants three times before you—”
“Alright!” A Glader you hadn’t seen before cut off as he sat next to Chuck. It was an Asian boy with a disgusted look on his face.
You had no idea what “klunked” meant, but given the context, you guessed in your head pretty quickly what it was.
The muscular boy who you didn’t know the name of nodded at you. “Well, shuck, they really did send up a girl. Klunk’s crazy. I have no idea what they’re up to.”
You supposed he wasn’t trying to come off as rude, but his words made you feel like more of an outcast than you had previously. He talked about you like you weren’t diagonal from him in the same table. Newt gently nudged you, giving you a knowing look before turning back to his friend. “That’s Minho. He’s a Runner.”
Your mind instantly went to what Newt had told you about Runners— how strong and courageous they had to be, how much stamina they had to have. A faint smile was on your face, despite Minho’s words. “What’s it like?” You asked him, curiosity peaking.
All you received was a curt shrug. “Tiring.”
“Oh,” you muttered, glancing down at your empty plate.
Newt grabbed your plate and utensils along with his own, waving at you as a sign to follow him. You cleared your throat and stood, voluntarily taking both of your dirty silverware.
He fake-huffed and leaned close to your ear after dropping the items in the sink, you doing the same.
“Don’t mind Minho, he’s not the friendliest to Greenies. He’s a real cool guy, though. Running’s hard. He probably just had a rough day,” he told you, and you nodded. Was the dissatisfaction in your voice that evident?
“I get it,” you said, looking up to face the boy. “Makes perfect sense.”
You both sat back down and heard Minho telling Chuck all about how he heard the eerie noises of the Grievers, and how they’d been out and about earlier than usual today.
“Real creepy stuff,” Minho said as he finished talking. “Nothing you’d ever wanna see up close,” he said, motioning to you.
Your eyes narrowed slightly. “Oh. Just me?”
He grinned and shook his head. “It wasn’t a girl joke, lassie,” he remarked. “You’d probably be braver than these other shanks,” Minho went on, gesturing to the table in which the builders sat.
You turned your head to look at them, throwing food at each other and being rowdy. Minho made a good point. You were glad you were getting along now.
“I think I’m gonna hit the hay,” he tells you all, stretching his arms and grabbing his plate. “See you tomorrow.”
The three of you wave at him before he turns his back. “Runners must have some good stories,” you think aloud.
Newt shifts in his seat. “You would think.”
“What do you—” You start to ask, but refrian when you hear a noise like the one Minho had described. The clicking sound made goosebumps fly on your arms. Newt breathed deeply, and your eyes moved to look at him.
“You’ll get used to it.”
That definitely didn’t make you feel any better.
But you didn’t ask anymore questions that night. Instead, you bid a goodnight to your new acquaintances and were lead to your hut by Alby.
“It’s not exactly finished yet; Gally was planning on putting a window if you’d like. But this is good enough for the night, yeah?”
“Good that.”
He lets out a hearty laugh and opens the door for you. There lie a bed and a small nightstand, but there was no roof.
“We’ll finish working on it in the morning. There’s no harsh weather in the Glade, so the roof thing won’t be a problem. Just one less thing caving in on ya.”
The joke didn’t make sense, but you laughed anyways. At least Alby was someone you could trust.
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight.”
You sat at the edge of the bed before plopping down backwards and pulling the covers up around you. It was strange to you how fast they had whipped out your hut; At least the necessary structures.
You closed your eyes to sleep, but no sleep followed. Your eyes opened after ten or so seconds at you glanced around the room, then at the open roof showing the night sky. It almost reminded you of the box. The thought of it was giving you Claustrophobia.
You willed your eyes to give you sleep— this time, it worked. Only for a few hours, you assumed, though, because you awoke to a still dark sky.
Taking a gulp of air, you rose out of bed and sat on the edge, contemplating your next actions. Not too much, though, which was probably the reason for your next move.
You leaned forwards and stood, steping closer and closer to the door handle until you twisted it; Cool air breezed against your warm skin and you shut yourself out of your hut, beginning to walk around. Your eyes averted quickly once you caught a glimpse of the box.
It brought you to think of your welcoming to the Glade. Oh, how nice it was. Only if that were true.  
Your thoughts kept you awake until dawn. Sun peaked through the tree branches and shone down on you, making you stand and trudge back to your hut. Just before you stepped inside, though, you saw Newt waving to Runners.
You recognized Minho from earlier, but the other you hadn’t before seen. You barely glanced at them, though. Newt wore a different shirt than the day prior, this particular shirt showing more of his body. Your eyes didn’t linger for much longer, but just long enough to see him call you over.
It slightly confused you, but his kind action didn’t go unnoticed as you ran up beside him. “Hey, Greenie.”
“Y/N,” you corrected, grinning. “Hey, Newt.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” a Runner with blonde hair said to the pair of you before sprinting off into the Maze. You stupidly waved at the guy, long after he was out of eyeshot.
Newt grinned from ear to ear. “That’s nice of you.”
“Yeah, yeah. You clearly do it everyday,” you said, assuming this wasn’t a rare occasion where he sent the Runners off. He stuck up for Minho like they were brothers; Of course it were for him.
“How did you sleep?” He asked, and a gentle scoff rose out of your mouth.
“The first and only hours were pretty nice,” you laughed, and he nodded in recognition.
“I understand; I couldn’t sleep comfortably in the Glade for a long time. I still struggle with it, in fact,” he told you, the last part a bit quieter than the rest. You could only muster a sad smile at him.
“That isn’t what I want to hear,” you said in a deadpan tone.
It took your by surprise when he stopped in his tracks and stood across you, putting his hand on your shoulder. “The Glade’s tough. You don’t deserve it.”
His random act of sentiment shocked you, and you could feel your face get hot. “How do you know?”
He looks at you strangely. “Cause I’ve been here for a long time.”
“No!” You grin. “That isn’t what I meant. How are you so sure I don’t deserve it?”
Newt rolled his eyes playfully, continuing to walk towards the Gardens. “I just am,” he told you, a sincere look on his face. In fact, he seemed the most sincere out of all the Gladers you had met. He was just so genuine, and—
His voice broke you out of your thoughts, but you had barely heard him in the first place. Little did you know, this would be an often occurrence.
You’ve been in the Glade for a full month, becoming friends with Gladers like Ben, Minho, Chuck and Newt, of course, and even Alby became a good acquaintance. It was surreal being in the Glade in time to not be the newbie anymore, though you had been told it would only take a month.
Everyone crowded around the box, awaiting another Greenie. It was another boy, this time, which made you wonder if you had been a mistake. The thought flicked at your head for a long time until the boy stepped out of the box, with the “help” of Gally. You had remembered all about that.
This Greenie wasn’t as quick to run, not like you were, but he was quick to begin screaming and demanding everybody for some answers. You didn’t know what to tell him. You didn’t know much more than he did.
Newt had to calm him, which you suspected, and you accompanied him. “Do you remember your name?” Newt asked him, all the circumstances of your coming up in the Glade were seemingly identical by this time.
You left Newt alone to give the Greenie the tour and hung out with Chuck, lying across his hammock in the Homestead while Chuck sat one someone else’s— he no-doubt prayed it didn’t belong to Gally.
“Are you excited for the bonfire tonight?” Chuck asked, and you’d forgotten all about it. You shrugged, forgetting about how you’d missed yours, but wanted to keep an optimistic attitude.
You nodded, giving him a thumbs-up, and Chuck held his hands excitedly. “Me too, I didn’t go to any of ‘em yet.”
“Why?”
“The only two that’ve gone on were mine and yours, and I was definitely in no condition to go to mine. Hell with it, though. Figured maybe we could finally have some fun in this shank-filled palace.”
You chuckled at the joke and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll see you there. I gotta get to work.”
You worked as a Track-hoe, which you saw as fitting, since you were too disgusted to be a Slicer, Slopper or Cooker (the various smells sometimes made you queazy) but not athletic enough to be a Runner and too smart to be a Builder.
The fields made you calm a lot of the time, while all it made someone like Newt was stressed. You often found yourself feeling guilty because of the amount of weight on his shoulders, but tried not to think about it. He was Alby’s Second-in-Command and there was nothing you could do. Besides, it made sense Newt was in charge. He could mostly keep everyone in check.
Still, the boy ran sometimes, which tugged on your nerves, but mostly tugged on your heartstrings. It bothered you when he wasn’t around, because without your closest friend there, the others oogled over you a lot more freely. You hated it.
Newt gave you a sense of home, which was probably why you liked him so much. Whether or not he reciprocated, you had no idea; because he was such a natural sweetheart. There was nothing stopping you from falling for the Glader.
Someone nudged you in the side and you smiled as you saw who it was; just the person who you had been thinking about. “Hey,” you smiled and he shot you one back.
“Hi, love.”
Love. The nickname made you want to pounce on him and show him all the affection you had stored, but you could never lose yourself and you sanity like that. Still, it stirred something unexplainable inside you. You put your hand on Newt’s arm, gently shoving him. “I’ve got work to do.”
“I like the sound of that. Why do I bother checking up on you? You’re a good egg,” he winked. You don’t know the half of it, you thought. The amount of unladylike things you thought about him were almost overwhelming.
But, he doesn’t need to know.
“Maybe you just like seeing me, or something,” you joked, proceeding to weed the garden until Newt’s finger went up to reach under your chin.
“You’re right. I do.”
Your face flushed, overly content with his movements. “I do, too,” you stupidly said. Still, the kind boy laughed at your silliness.
“I gather you’ll actually be at the bonfire. Am I right?” He asked, and you snapped.
“You gather correctly.”
“Well, then, I’ll be seeing you. Got a lot of work today with the Greenie till then. The bugger flipped out two more times.”
“Good luck, then!” You shouted at him as he turned away, and you giggled. You giggled. Stuck in the Glade with no evident way out, and here you were giggling over a boy. The thought of it made you cringe, but you knew that thinking of Newt could calm your grossed-out ego.
Two more hours of working until you could slip into the shower and bask in the warm water, slathering yourself with soap in preparation for the bonfire. You would usually simply eat dinner, chat, sleep, and repeat the day over again; but this was different. You felt like a veteran now. Of course, that wasn’t the case, but it was nice. You wondered how Chuck felt. Hell, how Alby felt. Then, mentally, you hoped you wouldn’t be stuck in the Glade for as long as Alby has been.
Kicking your thoughts aside, you dressed yourself and set out to see your friends, stepping out of your hut and being greeted with the warm temperature.
Chuck was in your peripheral and you turned your head to look at him clearly. He winked over at you, which you barely saw because of the distance, and cringed at the sight. The corner of his lips curled to a smirk and he motioned for you to go towards him.
“You look ecstatic. I feel like this may underwhelm us,” you said as you approached the young boy, a lopsided simper on your face.
“We’ll never know unless we go,” he sing-songed, grabbing you by the hand rougher than intended and pulling you towards the group of Gladers, ready for the bonfire.
You felt an arm on your waist, and before you could kill any random Glader who tried touching you, you noticed who it was.
“You did say you’d be seeing me,” you implored, making a litter come out of Newt’s mouth.
“Mmm, observant. And yes, I remember.”
He moved his hand away and you instantaneously missed his touch. “Are you gonna have a drink?” He asks, his thumb pointing over his shoulder. You shrugged, then shook your head.
“Baby steps.”
You pinched Chuck’s cheek, who you had forgotten was standing with you for a second, and stood closely to the burning fire. The warmth felt nice on your face after the endless days of work and barely any rest.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Newt asked.
You looked at him and stared. You couldn’t help it. He was so beautiful; his chocolate eyes, his blonde hair, his caring attitude, his charming voice. You nodded absentmindedly, looping your arm through his and laying your head on his shoulder.
Minho came over to commit some tomfoolery, but he figured Gally’s wrestling match was more suitable to act like a jackass. A comical jackass, but still a jackass.
From the corner of your eye, you could see Newt smile as Minho walked past. You adored seeing this boy happy.
You awoke in your hut, racking your brain for a memory until you recalled falling asleep on Newt’s shoulder. He must have taken you to your bed, and you smiled at the thought. Kicking off your sheets, you were excited to wave goodbye to the Runners as you did as of your box-date.
Newt was running today, but he had already began his mapping when you got there, seeing Minho, Ben, and some others whom you still didn’t know the names of. Huh.
You and Chuck went to greet the Runners as they came back, too, and all of them returned safely. All but one.
You cracked your knuckles, a bad habit you had picked up since you were put in the Glade, as you waited nervously for him.
Chuck leaned his elbow on your shoulder, looking at you. “Newt’ll make it, he’s got plenty of time.”
You nodded, wondering what you were all troubled for. To kill time, you and the youngest Glader went to the other huts, asking them about their days. For the most part, they were all the same, but you couldn’t have your mind eating away at Newt getting stuck in there.
But as you entered the Medjack domain, a weird vibe fell over you. Before you could even say a word to Clint or Jeff, Alby busted through the hut with Newt laying unconscious in his arms. Your eyes widened and you knew a stunned expression was evident on your face.
You then noticed that Alby’s eyes were filled to the brim with tears.
“What happened?” You exclaimed nervously, grabbing Chuck by the shoulder for comfort.
“He climbed up the walls, and-” He looked at you, sadder than you had ever seen anyone. You knew how to finish the statement, but you couldn’t believe it.
“He jumped?” Chuck asked in a hushed tone, and it was enough for tears to parade down your face. Your heart rate went up and you could feel yourself shaking.
Chuck turned around and hugged you, trying to comfort you, but you couldn’t hug him back. You could feel a wet stain forming on your shirt from Chuck, and it only made you more uneasy.
You didn’t notice Clint run towards the hurt boy and lay him across a small bed that probably didn’t meet the standard of upmost ‘comfortability.’ But you didn’t give a damn. How did he manage to hurt himself like this?
You pulled up a chair right beside the bed and towered over the boy, concerned and distressed. While Clint was working on his ankle and Jeff was handing him tools and bandages, you put your hand on his face gently. “Why would you do this to us?” You almost inaudibly said, tears falling onto the unaware Brit’s shirt.
Alby urged for Chuck to leave, and you looked at him with the most fretful face. Without speaking, the leader pulled you into a hug and let you unwind your emotions into his chest. Tears coated his tan shirt. You would have felt a bit of remorse, but it was the least of your worries.
“I can’t believe it either,” Alby said through an almost unheard pant.
It felt like someone were scraping out your stomach. You were on the brink of losing your lunch, but your whimpers defeated the longing to do so.
You sat back down after a long time and grabbed Newt’s hand. By this time, Clint, Jeff, and Alby were gone. Minho stood in the room with you, tear stains on his face.
“How did the world get so shucked?” Was all Minho said. He was right. You agreed with all seven words.
Minho only remained in the room for a short amount of time before leaving, you presumed to his room where he could lose his tough demeanor in peace and quiet. The thought made your hands twitch.
Several more hours later, it was when you would normally fall asleep; but you were wide awake. The idea of sleeping this night was dead and gone.
It was 2:07am when Newt shifted in the bed, slowly ascended to full consciousness. Your blood rushed to your veins as you shook kissed his hand, urging him to open his lids.
Right when Newt saw you, his eyes filled with water. “Klunk,“ he whispered, cursing at himself.
From this point, you were only depressed, but after his lame excuse for a welcome you lost the will to be kind and worrisome.
“Is that all you have to say?” You asked bitterly, your eyes puffy from the endless bawling until he awoke.
He only sniffled and didn’t respond, looking down at his own leg— his ankle mangled. You just couldn’t do the same, though. It made you sick.
“Newt, I can’t believe you,” you cried. He still didn’t look towards you.
“How could you do this?” You asked him, sobs ripping through your mouth until you slapped your hand on it. Tears streamed down your face. Your whole body felt cold.
“I hate it here. Don’t mistake that for me hating you, either,” he said in a shattered voice. “But I hate it here. Almost everything about it, I buggin’ hate.”
You could hardly believe how he was attempting to make you feel sympathy for him. You only felt pity.
“I could have lost you. Don’t tell me you care about me, because you don’t. You know how good of friends we are.” His eyes narrowed at the last sentence, but you didn’t care. You continued. “Did you think I was going to be glad you were gone? I’d rather be miserable than dead.”
You had no regard for anything you said that made you sound like a raging prick, and your tears broiled by sadness were now fuming. “I can’t believe you tried to kill yourself like that. You can’t just kill yourself when things don’t go your way.”
Your ending statement was like a punch in the face, and guilt automatically overtook you.
“I can never run again, I bloody figure. I’ll have to be watching these slintheads twenty-four seven now,” he groaned. He either was pretending not to hear you, or didn’t even bother to listen. Both ideas washed you free of any previous guilt you had.
“Well, good going. You did it to yourself,” you spat, storming out of the Medjack hut and slamming the door as you went. You would’ve felt guilty if your heart hadn’t felt so crushed. How could he do that, knowing how much he meant to everyone? It seemed all too selfish, especially considering the pain the whole Glade shared now. The Glade became quieter than ever. One of their leaders finally broke.
Once you realized he was in fact broken, though, you felt absolutely horrible for acting the way you did. You heart dropped to your stomach and sloshed around a couple times just to insult your already wounded mental state. You ran back to the Medjack hut, as fast as your legs could carry you, but took a deep breath before taking a step inside.
Your eyes burned as you entered. “Newt, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, sitting in the chair again and gently taking his hand. His eyes were bloodshot, and you knew the reason. He had been crying, too.
“It just killed me that you did this when you’re the person everybody needs the most, and not just physically. Mentally, the Glade needs to know you’re okay. And you haven’t been. I was a shank not to notice. I don’t know how I could have missed it,” you said in a quiet voice, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “If your attempt worked—” you choked on air. “I don’t know what I would have made of myself. The Glade’s not a complete hellhole because of you. We’re all sorry. We need you more than you need any of us.”
Newt’s grip tightened on your hand, his eyes snapping shut. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to be honest with you.” You would have smiled at him to lightened the mood, if only you could muster one up.
He winced from pain and clutched your arm, and you leaned down to wipe a tear from his face. “I’m so tired, love. Please stay with me.”
You nodded, and in an instant, the boy was in deep sleep. You were left to sit there before him, wide-awake, wondering why the hell things like this happen to good people.
You had stayed by his side for practically three weeks, but it felt longer than that. Like the Newt you knew was someone you met a year ago. A lifetime ago.
Still, you liked him. You couldn’t deny it and there was no point in doing so anyway. He finally realized his mistake— openly, anyway. He apologized for it until you promised to forgive him. But you wouldn’t forget completely.
“Y/N,” Newt whispered, shaking your arm.
“What?”
His face looked as if he were contemplating whether or not to tell you something he’s been wanting to. “Could you help me with something?”
You’d never heard him sound like more of a rabbit in your whole time there. He sounded overly shy and reluctant. “Of course.”
“Could you,” he cleared his throat, his hand moving up to his face to awake his eyes. “Help me walk again?” He looked like he was waiting for you to tell him ‘no’ and spit in his face.
The scene you made weeks prior after finding out clearly didn’t sit well with him. Nor you.
You nodded fast, putting your hands under his forearms. “Come on, then,” you commanded quietly. He grimaced as he let his wounded leg roll off the bed and onto the ground. It had been healing somewhat, but it would never be what it used to be.
Newt hesitated at taking a step, and sat down on the chair you often presenced. “I can’t. It’s humiliating.”
You sighed, squeezing his warm hands. “It isn’t. You can’t just sit forever. I’m glad you asked me, now let’s make some progress,” you said in the sweetest tone you could assemble. He looked at his feet, the black socks preventing him from seeing anything real, but he continued to stare.
“Newt, I’m not going to laugh at you if that’s what you think.”
“I’m just angry with myself because I made myself like this.”
You bit the inside of your cheek to refrain from crying. “But I can help you fix yourself.”
With lots of stumbling taking place, he finally took one step. Then another. Then another. He had a very, very evident limp on his leg, but it was better than not being able to walk.
“You’re doing good,” you cooed to motivate him. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at how his leg shook, barely able to hold up his body weight. He shook his head at himself, and you felt bad being a witness.
“Don’t be discouraged, Newt. You can do it. I know you can.”
“Goddamnit, why are you so sweet?” Newt asked through gritted teeth as a response to his shaky ankle. You allowed a miniscule smile to pass onto your lips.
“Goddamnit, why are you so worthy of life?”
His eyes watered and he held your hand tighter. “Why are you so sweet?” He repeated in a faint volume. Your smile grew slightly, lifting his hand and pressing your lips to the his knuckles.
Newt’s eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, but you felt important under his gaze. “With a bit more practice, you could be out there in no time. In a better Glade.” You paused. “We’ll be more deserving of your leadership.”
Newt shook his head, his face pinker than normal. “You don’t have to-”
“Save it,” you put a finger up to his lips. “We’re going to be better people for you whether you like it or not!”
He laughed at the backhanded threat. “Okay, love. I can’t wait.”
The most genuine smile you had since the accident spread on your face. If your prayers have been answered, things were finally going up from here. — You were correct. In a week, Newt was back out in the Glade, being a leader of sorts. You had made sure that everyone be as little as a slinthead as they could possibly be. If Newt ever pulled a stunt like that again, you just might have to—
You were grateful for not finishing your thought.
Newt had walked around the Glade differently, of course, but you were glad he was acting the same as he always had, for the most part. He still bossed the Gladers around fairly, kept his intelligent view on things, and kept his presence of management all the while.
Speaking of, the first Gathering since Newt was back had ensued, and you were there to see it.
You zoned out for the most part, not having an opinion on the klunk they were speaking of. With a Glader finally being nursed back to their usual self, you’d think they would show some understanding. But their remorse seemed scarce.
You knew it wasn’t at the direct cause of anyone’s actions that Newt had been hurt, but you were still nitpicky about how everyone went about his reappearance.
It were like all your emotions had shown on your face as you looked at Newt and the others, because Newt wrapped his arms securely around your shoulders as Alby rambled. Warmth enveloped you and you felt your heartbeat rise, as per usual.
Shuck this boy for making you feel how you did.
“Anyway, it’s that time of the month,” Alby said as you tuned back in, causing some of the other Gladers to look back at you.
“Shh,” you mumbled in annoyance. Newt’s hands slid to wrap against your waist at the change in tone, placing his chin on your shoulder. He was so close.
“We get a new Greenie today. And no funny business. It’s been a long shuck month for everyone.” He looked around, ignoring Newt’s gaze for reasons you knew. A look at Newt could have Alby blubbering in a single minute. You knew the feeling, but were with him enough to get used to it.
“Dismissed,” Alby said after looking around. Gladers began piling out of the medium-sized hut, but you and Newt didn’t move.
“He had to say that,” he whispered in a defeated tone. “Real bloody nice.”
You shifted in his arms and pulled his face down to place two soft pecks to his cheek. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” he said blankly, his hand reaching down to intertwine your fingers with his. Some Gladers gave you funny looks, but you didn’t have the patience nor energy to pay them any mind.
“Can we have a good time tonight? I want you to be happy,” you virtually begged him.
He closed his eyes, nodding.
“I’ll try to sulk only under good reason,” he jokes, and you smile despite the darkish nature. You hated to think of Newt anguish.
It took a long time to get used to the Newt that you knew needed fixing, but at the same time, didn’t mind putting his broken pieces back where they belonged. It was worth it for the damaged boy. You hoped more than anything that one day he could be as gleeful as ever, living out the rest of his life in such a way.
Until then, you had the Gladers on their best behavior. Still, it didn’t stop the shanks from going all-out and crazy when the next bonfire came. Maybe it was what Newt needed. Even at the fires, he still had the pressure of keeping everybody in check.
You pleaded to Alby that he could possibly take some extra time to make sure the Gladers weren’t off their rockers. To your suprise (and utter gratefulness) Alby agreed without resistance.
Now it were just to make Newt happy.
He was walking more normal than you had seen him walk since the incident, which sent relief through your body. You willed yourself to think it was a sign his almost-constant sadness was diminishing, however long it look.
The Second-in-Command sometimes even worked in the Gardens with you, and he caught on quickly on how to take care of it all. It didn’t catch you by suprise, even a little bit.
As the second bonfire you planned on attending rolled around, you were as calm about it as ever. Just another day, you continued to speak to yourself. No need to get any hopes of.
You realized that living in the Glade was about making life bearable one step at a time. Otherwise, you may not make it for very long.
You often came out of bed with an open mind and a will to make the Glade a better place than anyone had ever seen it, wishing it would be evident in your yardwork.
Even the way you ate, simply, was different. You savored every bite, no matter how unappetizing it was. Minho looked at you oddly.
“You’re a weird one, you know that? Really shucking weird. You sure the Changing isn’t in your brain somewhere?”
“Ha-ha,” was your lame reply.
It made the sweaty Runner grin in victory.
“You guys are both crazy,” Chuck jumped in, picking at the chicken fat on his place; Mostly moving it around with his fork and jabbing at it.
“That’s real nice,” you inquired in disgust, taking his plate as well as yours, starting for the Kitchen.
You saw Newt in the corner of your eye and he waved as his gaze locked onto you. You could only smile back, as your hands were full.
The usual warm feeling you got in your stomach when he was around occurred. It didn’t bother you before and it didn’t bother you now.
“Minho! What the hell are you doing?” Chuck laughed.
Newt sat alone. It was so unlike him that you wondered if Newt really was getting better. Maybe you were just hoping he was, and thus living in a dream world.
You excused yourself and sat down by the boy. Agitation was etched on his face, unlike you would have expected. Your blindness to reality annoyed you.
“What’s wrong? Come join us,” you pried, but he shook his head.
“Don’t you see I bloody can’t?” He asked. It wasn’t a stinging tone; more of a cracked one. He gestured to his leg and lowered his head shamefully.
“I’m a buggin’ idiot,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
You put your hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
“Maybe not like they are,” you said, pointing at the boys who tipsily danced, their movements eager and not-so-swift. “But- maybe we could, you know,” you hinted. His face showed no recognition.
“Slow dance?”
He turned his head away from you, but you noticed the gleaming smile of hope that he wore.
“I’ll embarrass myself.”
“You won’t,” you swore, pulling him from his seat and walking towards a less-dense-in-drunk-Gladers area of the bonfire.
“I think I can recall how to do it. Just follow my lead,” you persuaded.
“Are you sure about this?” Newt asked with obvious second thoughts. You let a smirk rest on your lips.
“Don’t think so much about it. I technically don’t know if I’m doing it right either,” you said in a matter-of-fact manner. His face alleviated. “Now put your hands here,” you began, taking his hand in yours and placing it on your waist; repeating the action for his other hand.
He looked stiff, but amused.
“Then I put my hands here,” you said as you placed your hands on his shoulders.
“And we just,” you cut yourself off, as he mimeographed your movements perfectly. You smiled, tugging on your bottom lip with your teeth. You hummed. “Like that.”
“Well, then. This isn’t so bad,” Newt said, meeting your eyes.
“Yeah. Not horrible,” you joked, continuing to sway with him.
It was silent for a long moment, besides the rowdy Gladers that you mentally blocked out, until Newt spoke up.
“Thank you.”
Your eyebrows crinkled. “For what? You made this progress yourself.”
“Don’t be naïve, love. Everything was possible because of you.”
Then he moved his lips close, so no one else was in earshot. “I would have been so much worse off if I didn’t have you to put me together.”
“You mean ‘back together,’” you corrected warmly.
He shook his head. “No.”
You smiled as his hands gripped your waist tighter. Your hands locked around his neck. “Thanks for being you,” you hum cheesily, and as he presses kiss to your cheek, your bodies become intensely close.
You had never been in such near proximity to him, as your insides were screaming for one of you to close the gap.
Your mental calls were answered as Newt’s nose just barely brushed against yours, leaning his head to the side to bring his lips into a mingle with yours.
Though you didn’t remember any previous kisses you might have had, you knew this was the best one you had ever received. All his passion and tenderness were displayed flawlessly in one single embrace.
It was slow, but drew lots of attention. “I KNEW IT!” Minho hollered, making you smile and pull away from Newt.
Newt was grinning like a Chesire cat, and he pressed a kiss to your temple, one of his hands unlatching from your waist and hugging you around your shoulder.
You welcome his warm body.
Your eyes caught Chuck’s for a brief second and he winked at you a second time. You did something you’d never picture yourself doing; You winked back at him.
Newt, too, was doing something he’d never picture himself doing. He was loving.
Loving you.
116 notes · View notes
walking-the-tightrope · 8 years ago
Text
Head over heals
A/N: THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE! Requested by an amzing anon! I enjoyed writing this! Thank you so much! I did take some inspriation from the song Satisfied from the broadway musical Hamilton.
Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader
Warnings: Bit of Language
Summary: Love is hard, especially when you are in love with the same person your best friend is currently fawning over.
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“Y/N we are going to be late!” your best friend, Sarah, yelled at you. You sighed to yourself and threw your hair up in a simple pony tail. You personally didn’t like going out to night clubs at all but it was Srahs birthday so you kind of had to do it just this once.
“Coming,” you shouted as you grabbed your small hand bag and cell phone. Your heels made a loud clicking noise as you walked down the stairs. You pulled at the terribly short and tight dress that Sarah made you wear aggainst your will.
“You know this dress is really more of a top than a dress,” you complained to Sarah, standing next to her while your other friend and unofficial chaufer Megan brought the car out from the prking garage.
“Oh its a dress,” Sarah said, “It make’s your legs and ass looking incredible anyways. I personally couldn’t wear that without a bra.”
“Can’t tell if thats a complement or an insult,” You said to yourself as Megan pulled up the car. Sarah walked around to the otherside, as you got into the car, pulling down the dress as you did. 
“Let’s get this party started!” Meg said, throwing the car into drive and slamming the gas pedal.
“Where are we going again?” you asked, “I already forgot the name of the place.”
“LUX, its the hottest place in LA.” Megan said as she sped on the highway. “Sex, bear and hot men. What’s not to like?”
You rolled your eyes slightly, “I can think of a few things.” you said to yourself.
“What is your thing against clubs anways?” Meg asked.
“I juat don’t see the fun in going to them,” you replied simply. “Honestly, you party all night and drink, have a one night stand with a guy, wake up in the morning hungover as hell and ot remembering a damn thing about the previouse night. Just seems pretty pointless to me.”
“Its not always like that,” Sarah countered. “I met Mike at a club and we became more than a one night stand.”
“Yeah and look where that went,” you said. “He cheats on you and you break his nose.”
Sarah laughed. “Hey, it was good while it lasted.”
“Maybe if you actually enjoy yourself for once instead of just sulking at the bar, you may meet someone,” Meg said as she turned onto a busy street. You could see up ahead a large crowd outside of a building, which you coud only assume was LUX. Meg pulled up to the club building and the three of you got out of the car, Meg tossing the keys to the valet. 
While Meg and Sarah walked with absolute convidence, not caring that their asses where barely being covered by their ‘dresses’ nor that men were cat calling them as they walked by, you kept pulling at your dress, hating the fact that it kept riding up on your ass.
 You were thankful when you dinnally made it into the club itself and there was seating so you wouldn’t be so uncomfortable in the shirt/dress combo. You walked up to the bar and took a seat, your body pounding as the loud music filled the room occupied with sweating and horny people.
“Y/N come on lets dance! It is my birthday you know,” Sarah yelled over the noise. 
“I’ll join you in a second. I just need to rest my feet these heels are killing me!’ you lied. In truth you had no intention of partying with Sarah and Meg, butyou knew that once they got into it, they would soon forget you were there. Meg nodded and dragged Sarah by the hand into the dense crowd.
“Well, you look like you could use a drink,” the bartender, a beuatiful black haired woman said. “What’ll it be?”
“2 shots of Fireball whiskey,” you said simply. She looked almost shocked but at the same time pleased and poured you the two shots. You thanked her and she moved on to the other people at the bar. You drank your first shot with one gulp and stared at the wall, trying to tune out all the background noise.
“I’m guessing clubs are not your thing, darling,” A deep britsh voice said. You rolled your eyes, ready to tell the guy off. You turned to look at him, the words already in your mouth. However, when you looked at him, you were left stumed ito silence.
He immediately struck you as a man who was handsome and he knew it. He had deep, ebony hair and mischevious onyx-brown eyes. He was tall and built but still looked slim and trimmed in his dark suit. Overall, you could help but think just how dashingly handsome he was.
“Oh don’t worry, you’re not the first one to be stunned into silence by my good looks,” the man said. 
You cleared your throat and recomposed yourself. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean you forget yourself Mr....”
“Morningstar. Lucifer Morningstar.” He replied
You nodded. “My is Y/N Y/L/N.”
“So, Y/N what brings you to a place like this when you clearly don’t want to be here?” Lucifer asked.
“It’s my friends brithday. She wanted to come here, so thats what we did.” you said simply. “I am personally just not a big party person. Never saw the point of them, really.”
“You humans are so strange,” Lucifer laughed. “Always need a reason for something rather than just doing something because you can.”
You scoffed to yourself. “You say that like your not human. What do you have, a god complex?”
He looked at you, genuinely offended. “I most certainly do not. Quite the opposite actually. I’m the devil, love.”
“Like the actual devil?” You asked. He nodded as if it were that simple. “Ok, sure.
“What? I’m serious,” Lucifer defended. 
You put your hands up in surrender. “Hey, I just said ok.”
“No but if there is one thing I learned from being on earth is that when you humans say ok, you really mean you don’t believe me or you think its a joke,” Lucifer stated. 
“I just said okay. Seriousl, if you want to be the devil, then who am I to stop you.” 
“Well, I didn’t exactly ask to be the devil.” He said.
“Really? Way I remember it being told is that you and god and his other angels were like a pretty kick ass rock band and then you decided to go solo,”You said simply. At hearing this, Lucifer couldn’t help but laugh and you joined with him.
“Well, I must say I have never heard it put quite like that,” Lucifer said when he regainded his breath again. 
You gave a soft chuckle. You downed your other shot of whiskey. “ Ok so who are you really?” you asked.
“We just disscussed this,” Lucifer siad. “I’m the devil.”
You just shook your head. “Well, it has been nice talking to you. I’m pretty sure you have others to talk to.”
“No, not really,” Lucifer said. He took out a piece of paper and wrote something down. “I do quite like talking to you, actually.” He handed you the paper and you took it. You put it into your small handbag, in its own little zipping compartment to avoid it being ripped.
 “Well, I do so enjoy talking to you as well. Maybe we should-” you began before stopping midsentance as you caught Sarah’s eye from across the room. 
She wasn’t so much as looking at you, as she was at Lucifer. The way she looked at him was with a helpless expression to her eyes, as if she was drowning in all his beauty and grace. You knew without them two having even shared a look, that Sarah was so in to him. And then, you looked at Lucifer who was staring at you in curiosity, as he hadn’t seen Sarah. Then you knew what you had to do. 
“Come with me,” you said, linking your arm through his. He looked at you with a confused expression.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked.
“I think I am about to change your life,” you replied.
He smiled and let out a bemused chuckle. “Well then by all means, please lead the way.”
Sarah was watching you as you brought her face to face wih Lucifer. Lucifer looked at Sarah up and down. 
“Hi.. uhh..I’m Sarah. Sarah Coleman.” Sarah stuttered out. 
“This is that friend I was telling you about, you know the one who’s birthday it is today.” you clarified for him.
“Lucifer Morningstar.” he introduced.
“Your club is quite amazing,” Sarah said. 
“Well, thank you,” He said. You looked between them two and decided now was the time to go. 
“Well, I am going to go home, I am not feeling to well,” You said. “I’ll leave you two to it.” You turned on your heel and walked out of LUX, fully aware of Lucifer’s eyes on you as you left the club
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To say that Sarah and Lucifer had blossomed into something else was an understatment. Sarah would never shut up about her and Lucifer and honestly it both annoyed and hurt you. Annoying because Sarah could honestly not see that she was hurting you everytime. And hurtful because ever since you had met him at LUX on that fateful night, you two had clicked instantly. You had never stopped thinking or fantasizing about.
However, you saw Sarah looking at him helplessly and knew what you had to do. Besides, you were certain it couldn’t have worked out between you two because you simpley were not good enough compared to him. Sarah was perfect for him. 
“Hey Y/N I’m home,” Sarah said, her voice travlling across the apartment. 
“Hey, I am in the living room!” you called. Sarah’s heels clicked softly against the wooden floors as she made her way to you, sitting down next to you on your couch while you continued to draw your current piece, a drwing of Lucifer playing the Piano. You quickly hid the drawing as Sarah tried to look.
“Oh come on! You never hide your drawings from me,” Sarah begged. “What is it?”
“Nothing! Just something I was trying to start before you came in,” You replieed.
‘Bull! I saw something,” Sarah said.
“Why do you care so much?” you asked, frustration evident in your voice.
Sarah looked at you then snatched your sketch book from your hands and jumped up and went to one side of the circle table in the kitchen, you chasing after her.
“What is so bad that you don’t...want...me...” She began, trailing off as she looked at the drawing. You looked at her face, looking for a reaction or for her to realize the nature of your true feelings. 
Instead she smiled.
“My god, you are quite the artist. I knew you were good, but the deatil in this is just astonishing. You got Lucifer’s hands perfect!” Sarah complimented. She tossed your sketch book to you. “Its is honestly a beautiful piece. You should show Lucifer when its done.”
“No!” you said abruptly. Sarah looked taken a back by the sudden out burst. “I just mean, I am not comfortable showing other people outside you and Meg my drawings.’
“Well get comfortable, because you have a date with a guy,” she informed you. “His name is Jullian and he is an artist, just like you.”
“What?” You asked, shocked at the sudden infomation that had been provided to you. 
“Juillian is one of my firends that I met at collage a few months ago. I told him about and you and he said he’d be interested. So I made plans and now I have told you.” Sarah said simply. “Now go get ready. He will be here at 8:30 PM.”
“I don’t want to go on a date,” you retorted. 
“You never want to. I am giving you the push you need,” she replied. “Now go! You have less than 2 hours.” You rolled you eyes but on the inside you were slightly hopefully; Maybe this is what you need to get your mind off of Lucifer.
Jullian was right on time to pick you up. He wore a nice deep red shirt and black trousers completed with black oxfored. His hair was a bright dirty blonf and his eyes emerald green. He had a beach tan and paint stained hands. He was handsome, that of which you could not deny. He took you to a lovely dinner, then you two procceded to do a gallery walk at a new exhibit that had opened just downtown. Overall you two were having a lovely night.
“I had no idea we had some incredible artist in LA,” you said. “Serioulsy we have so may talented people.”
“Tell me about it,” Jullian said. He opened the ca door for you and waited until you were in to close the door. He got in his side, closed the door and turned to look at you.
“I had a wonderful time, Y/N,” he said. “You know, your friend Sarah told me alot about you. How amazing you are and how great of a person you are but meeting you in person...well no words can describe. Your just different.”
You blushed slightly. He truely was a nice guy. “I had a lovely time as well.”
Jullian smiled as he started the car. “Great. You want to-” he began before his phone rang. He sighed. “I’m sorry, have to take this. Hello?” he said into the phone. “Whoa, whoa just slow down.. really?...you have got to be kidding me!...alright be right there do not let her go anywhere!...see you soon.” he hung up the phone angrilly.
“What is it?” 
He gave an agrivated sigh. “It’s my brother, chris. He just snuck out to some nightclub and got drunk off his ass. I have to go pick him up now.”
You nodded. “Ok, lets go.”
“Really?” he asked. “You don’t mind coming?”
“No, its fine. I want your brother safe.” you assured. “Let’s go. Whats the club called.
“LUX.”
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You and Jullian parrel parked only a couple of yards away from LUX, as Jullian did not want to bother with trying to park at the actual club. You two got out and spoke to the bouncer, telling him about Jullians brother and he let you two through quickly.
Once you two entered the club, Jullians eyes shot up in surprise. Yet again it was packed with people, music was pounder and people we talking and danceing. 
“How the hell can I find my brother in this mess?” Jullian asked. 
You shrugged. “Ask aroud, what does he look like?”
“Just like me except he has brown eyes.” Jullian replied. ‘I’ll go ask at the bar, you ask around please?”
“Sure, get me if you find him?” you requested.
“Sure.” 
You walked into the crowd, asking everyone who was sober enough to remeber something. Surpisingly that was very hard. You hadn’t come across anyone yet. You were trying to walk out of the suffocating crowd when you bumped into someone, causing you to fall down and get your nose stepped on by some guy. 
“Oh my dad, I am so sorry love,” a familier british voice said as his srong arms pulled you up and off the ground. You were holding your now bleeding nose as Lucifer guided you away from the crowd. 
“Now I’ll get you some ice maybe and...Y/N is that you?” Lucifer asked, finally noticing your face. “My you are a sight for sore eyes. What in the hell are you doing here?”
“I am just here looking for someone.” you replied. Just as Lucifer was about to say something, Sarah walked up and put an arm around Lucifer.
“There you are Luci, I was looking for you,” Sarah said. She looked down at you and smiled. “Hey Y/N, I didn’t know Jullian was taking you here tonight.”
“Well he wasn’t and-”
“Wait whose Jullian?” Lucifer interuppted.
“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Sarah said. “Jullian is an artist friend of mine who I introduced Y/N to.”
“Yes and then forced me to go on a date with him.” you finished.  “We are just-”
“Hey Y/N, found chris he is in the car.” Jullian interupted. He looked at Lucifer and you could feel the jelousy between the two of them brewing. “Who is this?”
“Lucifer Morningstar and this beach boy must be Jullian.” Lucifer replied, albeit a little harshly. “Honestly Y/N, why did you even go out with this man. You clearly have no intrest in this man and he really only likes you for your body isnt that right?”
“What? No!” Jullian defended.
“Oh come of it, Jullian. Just tell me, what is it you really desire of this girl?” Lucifer asked, staring directly ito his eyes. Something seemed to sweep over Jullian as his whole demeanor changed.
“I want to..to have sex with Y/N tonight. We could get drunk, ave a one night stand and then I could leave her.” Jullian said. You backed away from him, appauled as he seemed to realize what he had just said.
“Y/N I...” Jullian began. You slapped him hard aginst his face.
“You son of a bitch!” you yelled. “Just go! Get out of my face and never come near me again!” Jullian looked genuinly hurt but he left without another word.
“Y/N I didn’t know.” Sarah said. “I am so sorry.”
“Its alright. I had no interest in him anyways.” You looked at Lucifer. “Can I talk to him? Alone?”
Sarah looked slightly skeptical but nodded. “Go ahead, I’m going to get a drink.” And with that she left. You looked at Lucifer and lead him away from the crowd and to a more private area. 
“What the hell?” you said. “Did you really have to do that?”
“What I was just saving you from unpleasentness with that douche.” Lucifer said. “I didn’t want your heart broken.”
You scoffed. “To late for that one.”
Lucifers face turned to one of concern. “Who broke your heart? Tell me and I will appropiatly punish them!”
You looked him dead in those beautiful eyes that had stolen you since day 1 and felt apart of you unlock. “You. Lucifer its you. I loved you when I met you. But...well I saw Sarah look at you and I just knew. Besides, I’m not good enough for you.”
“I think I should be the judge of that don’t you think?” Lucifer said. “Y/N, I love you as well. I just thought you weren’t interetested because you introduced me to Sarah.”
“Well its to late now,” you said.
“No” A familar voice said. You and Lucifers head wiped around to see Sarah standing there. “I heard everything. I’m not mad, don’t worry. The thing is I already knew. I am not blind. It’s ok.”
“Sarah I” Lucifer said.
“Just shut up and kiss already. Honestly its ok.” Sarah laughed. “You two both deserve to be happy.” And with that she left with a smile on her face. You an Lucifer looked at eachother.
“Well, that was...interesting” Lucifer said. “I did not expect that.”
“Me neither.” You replied. “So where d we go from here?”
“The only way to go.” Lucifer said. He pressed his lips firmly against yours, his arms snaking around your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. He really seemed experienced as his lips knew exactly how to move against yours, his hands knew exactly where to sit. 
When you two pulled apart he looked at you. “I think we should continue this somewhere else.”
You couldn’t agree more.
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mintyisland-blog · 6 years ago
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Mass Effect: Andromeda
Okay, I get why people didn’t liek it but it really wans’t that bad everyone. The glitiches were minimal but hey, I’m playing it after a year of its’ release so this time i went by pretty smoothly. I’m just goingot be wiritng what i loved aobut it cause i gotta stay positive, although i think i’m a pretty positive person a majority of the time so maybe i should be critical of it as well. yeah i thnk i will. ANDROMEDA REVIEW EVERYONE.
Okay, let’s start out with my pathfinder. I named her Serinity because that was the name of the protagonist of a christian anime girl manga series...Oh god. Let me rew rowrd that. Serinity is the name of this blue haird main character from a christian manga that was named...Serinity. Redundency..myt bad. Anway, Ryder...let’s keep it skimple. Ryder, was a pretty likeable character. She had some depth but i waill admit there wasn’t that much of a character arch but i guess it just dpens how you decided to protray her. I made her  alot more compasionate and understanding in most moments. I remember lexi giving a proifle on how I was protryahing her. She said I was rash with my actions??? But I was compasionate and caring towards most people. Not gonna lie i paniced during some missions when i had to tap RT at some point.  So yeah...Ryder was meh. I made her pretty funny too so I guess that was good cause my gameplay would have been rather dull. Okay. So I posted on my therepy post on thesome of the chacters, or at least i mentioned them a little but yeah. Let’s start with Jaal.
Jaal...when I first saw him, I was like...hmmm...potential. Potential but I was defienitly looking at Vetra when i first met her cause damn...she’s is one good luooking turian. I didn’t get to romance Garrus from the trilogy (I haven’tplayed Massef 2 and 3...I know I know...I’m stupid) so I thought I was going to make it up when I met Vetra...however when i realized how opentnly emotional Jaal was, I was like doki doki hadr core my dadue.  He was just so caring. The way he smiled at Ryder and called her darling!! Ahhhhhh...so cute. He also went through some emotinal trauma with the discovery of the oriings of his race...spoilers everyone...I tend to love characters who are broken in some aspect. Like trust me, the more broken the character, the more I want to love  them. Perhaps they’re a reflection of me. So yeah, Jaal was broken and I loved that about him well...also with the fact he was very accepting and open abouthimself. I took a clip of wen we went to Hrval and he showed Ryder the blueprints of his pet and a gun. Ryder’s expresions wer epriceless. I’ll try uploading it on here before I fnisish this post. Classic. The romance scene was on point...They’re super cute! I got to se eRyder’s tittes...was not expecting that. but yeah, interspecies SEX! I’m sure Jaal did Ryder right...is it strange if I put I instead of Ryder...I mean, It is a role playing game so I am putting myself as Ryder but it wouldn’t be actually me but it is me making the decions so it is me...huh? Don’t mind me. Now that I thnk about it, if I did put I, it would make me sound like a weird kinky chiick that liker interspecies sex.....???hmmm. Well, I’m kinky ...scratch that. I’m pretty simple when it comes to sex but that’s a discusion for another time. This is about Jaal. ...Something I look for in characters is their eyes. Jaal’s eyes look like a kitties or aligattors...maybe a corss but they were just stunning...I liked them. The general design of the angara was pretty well made. I love how broad their shoulers can ge and his thighs..tem booty. So lusicious. .
Speaking of lusicouls bootie, Ryes REYES!! You damn bad boy you...me and the bad boys have had quite the history. He was a smuggler and the first character I (Ryder) got to kiss and I didn’t mind...okay i was a bit guiltycause I liked Jaal and Vetra at the time. But the cut scene after wards when he ays he came to be someone and then I was all like “You’re someone to me” was cliche but I think that what he needed to hear at the time. I don’t know what the history he lift behind in the Milky way was but he obviously wanted a change. Just like how I want to leave my past behaviors behind and move on. Well...more like I want to become someone just like him. I think that’s why I really liked him. When I disocvered he was the charletan (spilers...my bad) I did’t think too badly of him but I did lose some trust because I don’t tolerate liars...plus I wanted to commit myself to only Jaal at that point too. I feel like my timel timeline was a bit whack but if i play another playthrough I woill get it right. I know some things I’ll change. Like my male rider will be with Ryes..  He deserves love.
Okay, so a quick thing on Vetra was how much she loved her family cause all she had as sid so I really admired how much she wanted to look after her sister. Maybe it’s because Vetra is like my older sister but I think not as strict. Mys sister worries for me but she trusts that I can be an adult and that I fifigure myself out...of course she hhhas my back though.
Okay, Drack...he makes me happy. I didn’t gorw up with a granda or just and grandmpa like figure in my life so i wasn’t sure how to go about interacting with him but honestly I loved him once i realized his grandaughter was back on the Nexus. On his lyalty mission he was just so funny on how he interacted with the other krogan and I love how he uses his age as an excuse. “Just let me be a old grauchy old man in peach”...That’s going to be me when I’m old.  I realized I realliked drack a lot on the mission when were inflitrating the kett shipa and we realized the krogan were being used for exaltation. Initally I picked saving the salarian pathfinder because I wanted at least one of the oriangl pathfinders alive but alsa when I saw Drax’s reaction, I went back to replay 20 mins of gameplay so that I could get on hs good side. Because Honestly the Krogans have gone through a hella lot of shit. Like in the Milky Galaxy and now so they should be given slack. They’re not wanting to be the war like monsters that defined them in the Milky Way. They would be warriors but they would know when to put their swords away. I got that from Inuistion. Which I will probab write aoubt next.
Okay...now that bad companions. They’re not bad bad but I just didn’t findi anything to exciing about sayyyyyy Liam. Love the accent but boy, you are just so impulsive...Kinda gets on my nerve. Like even his lyalty mission was just one big fuck over but hey, he was the one person who wanted to reach out to the angara and wanted tounderstand them on ta better level so i appreicate hisbromance with Jaal...Cora was obsessed with her military history. Like yeah, I get it you were a untress...I don’t hink that would have been a good fit for a Pathfinder now that I think about it because she might have brought a more military based agenda if she were the leader and hat wouldn’t have ended well. It wouldve been the pilgrims with the indians in a sense. It would just be a huge mess. Now for my least favoirte character. Peeebee. ..There’s a comic I saw about if Shepard was in Adromeda and if he had seen Pbee, Garruis would’ve just shot her cause damn...she did look rabid haha. She was just annoying. She was kinda like Sera from Dragon age but I actually liked Sera’s craziness. Peebee was just in your face and needed to uptone her elcorness hahaha.. I liked the fact she made a robot that could kill for methouhg. That’s the only puls side from her. Oh my god...her loyalty mssion was annoying with the fact her ex was probably the most annoying character...more so than peebee so you can just imagine me just rolling my eyes hroughout the enire mission. Like geez...why would she have fallen for someone as self centered as that bitch? Mybe it was ...Maybe she didn’t always act like that but just the fact the ex tried to one up peebee in every way was so annoying. Like geezus...Please obsssess over somethig else please. Just didn’t want to deal with her at all. The end. just kidding. I have more wot rite aobu tlike the plot.
So the plot of the game wasn’t so bad in my opinon. The race of kett were actually thretening as they sought to pretty mch commit gennocide by removing whole species and ...except those speciwould’ve turened into them so they would die but not really die cause t HOld on...So they toak on aspects of certain aliens but when ever I scnaned them I remember sam or Lexi saying that they were all kett...like there was very little left from the species that they had transformed from. And they’re not all Angara right. Casue the Archon said he was a mixture of thousands of species...which means...maybe they travled from another galaxy?? *ponders* So...yeah..a decen villain and with the whole “looking for ahome” aspect,it made a legitmate story line so I don’t understand how people got bored of it. If anything a lot osf the side mission were lengthy and too much snanny. I wish I could’ve gotten more reasearch points for reverant pcause I really wanted to make their amor. but I didn’t san enough stupid scupltures. I was rough. Uh oh...it stopped noooo. I had so much to say. Okay it wasn’t that far behind. I was writing about he Ryder twins and how I hoped that Scott would’ve been brought ealier into the game so you caould actually play as him and he would just have a different load out. Seeing the wtins interacting more would’ve been cool , plus it wouldve gien me incite on Ryder Sr.  who was the classical overworking father who diesn’t pay much attention to his family. I like the fact the loved Ellen though...Like he legitmately love dher but he put his love all towards her insteaand her survival, which was ultimately a good thing cause it saved Ellen. Speaking of which, I’m surprised they didn’t find the cure for Ellen...maybe it’ll be implicated in the DLC? I haven’t heard of a DLC but they should come out with one cause of how they ened it with e qurian ark coming in at the end. (spiler...lol I should propbably put this in the bennning but fuck it.)  Yeah, that’s my review. Yay!
SAM had awesome puns. I don’t care how bad they were...I loved them.
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