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deathmetalunicorn1 · 1 year ago

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Hey! Thanks for the chance! The request I want to make is a Female Karna reader x gods.

Reader was a warrioress from India that earned the respect of the gods and received many blessings from them, but ultimately died in battle at the hands of one of her step brothers. Either way, she ascended to Valhalla as a Demigoddess, was accepted as a daughter of Surya and rules the Sun by his side.

She would be called to fight for the humans by Brunhilde, mainly because she was known in life as the Hero of Charity and won't deny any request for help. She will fight against one of the gods (it can be even ones that have already fought), having a golden armour that protects her from everything for a Volund. She'll win, surprising everyone with her skill, the divine blessings she had (mostly divine weapons) and the fact that her Volund wasn't one of the Valkyries, but her father himself.

Okay, for her personality, she may look rather cold, for her expressions is either neutral or serious, but she will smile when she's really happy. She doesn't think that others will be interested in her, since she's weird (because of her usual expressions), so she will be really dense if any god come to her because they are interested in her. Again, she's the Hero of Charity, so even if one of the gods invite her to go out or lay on her lap, she won't think much of it and do it because they ask it, unless the god tells her that he's interested in her romanticall, she won't realize they like her.

A god I want to see reacting to reader "not reacting" to his flirts is Apollo, because he gives me the vibes of a god that wants everyone's attention and like being the center of attention.

The way I kinda imagine her. Yes, I'm a Fate Karna fan. Judge me if you want.

Hope it's not too hard or too complicated for you. I'll be waiting for the post. 😘😘😘

Hello my love! I don’t know this character, but you wrote it in a way where I could write this request. I hope you like it!

-You were a beautiful maiden, honorable, strong, loyal, kindhearted, and lovely, you were a warrior and a proud one at that, only fighting to protect others, something that earned the respect of many of your peers as well as many of the gods in India.

-You were hardworking and passionate, always willing to help out others, and received many blessing from the gods so you would help and protect others, doing more good things.

-However, there were many who were jealous of your blessings and adoration from others, your older stepbrother was one of them, who always had something cruel to say, badmouthing you to whoever would listen, furious that he wasn’t like you.

-This jealousy boiled over when he killed you while you slept, stabbing you and killing you almost instantly.

-Your death was a big loss to your family and peers, who saw you as a saint, and the mourned your death for months, even years.

-When you arrived in Valhalla, you were heartbroken to learn that it was your stepbrother who killed you, weeping into your hands before a man, a god, embraced you, holding you close.

-He was so warm and comforting, introducing himself as the God of the Sun Surya, which stunned you out of your tears, your jaw dropping open which made him laugh and he immediately adopted you as his daughter.

-For your deeds on earth, you ascended to Valhalla as a demi-goddess, ruling over sunshine, helping your father with the sun, and you became loved and adored once again all over Valhalla due to your hard work and kind heart.

-You were usually neutral faced, stoic if you had to use a word, you smiled very rarely but when you did, people would melt around you. Surya learned that this stoic-ness in your personality stemmed from the betrayal of your brother, you were guarding your heart, afraid to be hurt again, but even after being hurt, you were still so gentle.

-Brunnhilde approached you to fight for humanity, despite being a demi-goddess and you immediately accepted, because you loved humanity, and you believed that the gods were doing wasn’t right and you were willing to fight.

-However, you weren’t going to be fighting alone, Surya approached you while you were preparing your weapon, dismissing the valkyrie who was going to be forming a Volundr with you.

-He smiled down at you, brushing your hair behind your ear, “You’re not doing this alone, Y/N.” your eyes widened as he embraced you and started to glow, fusing with you, creating a beautiful set of golden shining armor that looked like the sun.

-Many on both sides cheered for you, as you had proven yourself to many gods as you had been working so hard lately all over Valhalla.

-You were introduced as the Hero of Charity by Heimdall, before your opponent, a being of evil, Chernabog, was announced.

-You lifted your golden blade with sharp focused eyes and immediately charged in at the start of the fight, intent on eradicating this evil monster who you know has killed others just for fun.

-Your fight was the shortest, as you showed your combat knowledge, you were definitely not to be trifled with, but thanks to your moral code, you only fight to defend yourself or others.

-You had not been hurt in the fight, other than a small scratch on your cheek, and your father unfused with you and took you to the infirmary, worried about you but a brightly colored penguin band-aid did the job!

-After Ragnarok all those who were lost were brought back, much to your joy, feeling relieved that nobody was truly lost in this tournament.

-Once humanity was safe you relaxed, enjoying the nice weather, sitting under a tree before you heard a cheerful voice call out, “Y/N! I finally found you!” you turned, seeing Hercules coming up the hill to your tree and you gave him a tiny smile, greeting him.

-You were quite dense when it came to things like flirting, not getting the pickup lines, but many thought it was funny, but they weren’t upset by it.

-Moments later Hercules was beaming up at you, after he asked if he could lay his head in your lap for a bit which you saw nothing wrong with it.

-He reached up, pulling a leaf from the top of your head, twirling it, “So what were you and Apollo talking about earlier, if you don’t mind me asking.”

-Your eyes were full of confusion as you spoke, recalling the conversation, “He told me that I had two more wishes to make, now that he was there, before he called me a campfire and said he wanted some more of something, but he didn’t tell me what.”

-Hercules was quickly sitting up, roaring with laughter, slapping his knee, finding it hysterical that you didn’t get any of Apollo’s pickup lines.

-Hercules laughing only confused you more before he turned with a grin, brushing his hand along your cheek gently, cupping the side of your face, “He was flirting with you, badly.” You were a bit surprised to learn this, as you had never really dealt with something like that before.

-He smiled down at you, getting your eyes back on his and spoke, “Y/N, I like you would like to court you.” Your eyes widened, and he realized that talking plainly, right to the point, was the only way you would understand these types of things.

-Your cheeks turned a bit red, but you smiled brightly, looking like the sun and you leapt up into his arms, knocking him back which surprised him as he started laughing again, hugging you close as you gave him your answer.

-Sunya was watching nearby, a smile on his face, seeing you happy with Hercules, whom he approved of. No way in all of Valhalla was he going to allow you to get with Apollo, he didn’t want to see you get your heart broken again.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror heracles #ror apollo

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calebdumes · 3 years ago

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forcing myself out of my creative rut by writing from the pov of a new character (also i’ve had this idea since star wars day and given what coming up this month, it makes sense tbd)

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

rating: g

word count: 1.4k

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to traverse the blinding heat of the desert to wander the congested streets of Ancorhead but he found himself in the spaceport city all the same. Rugged off worlders and weary townsfolk passed by him as he walked with no real destination, the twin suns of Tatoonie blazing brightly in the cloudless sky overhead.

His feet took him to a small cantina, not far from the bustling spaceport. The tea was sour and tepid but his seat on the outdoor patio gave him a full view of the dusty city and the millions of lives that called the desolate planet home. He often wondered what it would have been like to grow up on a planet like this, nothing but sand in every direction. He suspected his life would have been very different; slow, borderline monotonous but simple, carefree in a way that was so foreign to him that it seemed like an impossible ideal. Tatoonie was a steady, solid planet where nothing ever happened.

Then again, it was this very planet where everything had changed.

Obi Wan Kenobi looked down at this tea, letting his thoughts blended into the murky brown liquid. How many hours he had wasted, thinking of a different life, one that didn’t revolve around this particular planet? Too many to count, it seemed and he saw many more wasted days in his future but what was a Jedi to do in a galaxy that had no want for one?

The familiar ache in his chest throbbed, his throat growing tight with emotion. Obi Wan closed his eyes against the bright landscape and took a deep breath, letting the pain he felt dim as he opened himself up to the comfort of the living Force.

Then, he felt it.

It was like a whisper brushing up against his mind, subtle and unmistakable.

There was a Force wielder on Tatoonie.

No - not just any Force wielder, it was a Force wielder he recognized.

Obi Wan’s first instinct was to run. His objective was to remain hidden, lest his true intentions be discovered. But an abrupt exit, even on such a place as this, would only draw more attention to himself, so he reached for his tea and brought it to his lips, focusing on the bitter liquid as it spilled down his suddenly parched throat.

He let his conscience spread outwards, searching for the being that had sparked the awakening in the Force. He was careful not to draw too heavily on the Force as he looked, he had heard the stories of the Empire’s agents that hunted beings like him. It was only a small fraction of what he was capable of but it was more than enough to find what he was seeking.

His eyes dragged over to a food stall on the opposite side of the wide street. Two beings stood propped up against the furrocrete walls of a building, a young, green skinned Twi’lek woman and a young Human male, both somewhere in their early twenties. While more than one eye fell on the Twi’lek woman, Obi Wan’s attention zeroed in on the man.

He was the Force wielder.

Careful not to reveal himself, Obi Wan studied the Force signature of the man while using his physical senses to discover more about him. He was tall and lean with dark chestnut hair tied back into a tail at the base of his skull. Like nearly everyone on Tatoonie he was armed with a blaster and while he seemed to be deep in conversation with the Twi’lek woman, Obi Wan could tell from the tense line of his broad shoulders that he was completely aware of his surroundings.

His Force signature was much harder to read. It was clouded, hard for Obi Wan to decipher, a twisting maze of traps and durasteel walls. It was a mark of someone who knew the dangers of being a Force user in the age of the Empire. It also spoke of his strength. He was trained enough to know how to hide in plain sight but not enough to remain completely hidden.

Obi Wan pressed harder, diving past the initial defense the man had constructed around himself and couldn’t suppress the gasp of surprise when recognition took hold.

It couldn’t be…

But it was. The Force never lied.

It was Depa Billaba’s inquisitive padawan, Caleb Dume.

Obi Wan let go of his hold on the Force and sat back in his chair, at a loss.

Caleb was certainly much taller than he had been when Obi Wan last saw him, a small little boy with more questions than sense and a voracious hunger for knowledge. Depa had had her hands full with him, his boundless curiosity had led to more than one reckless situation that rivaled the messes his own padawan tended to land in. But looking at him now, Obi Wan could see that wild streak had been tempered, his curiosity hardened into caution that spoke of a life of hardship and survival.

But it hadn’t warped him into something worse. Obi Wan could sense his pain, a dark hole deep in his soul but it was contained. Instead of constant fear, Obi Wan could feel the comforting heat of life surrounding him, it was different from when he was a boy but familiar all the same. Caleb was alive and happy and…in love.

Obi Wan didn’t need the Force to see it. Even from across the street he could see how Caleb leaned in towards the young Twi’lek. How his eyes never left her face as she spoke. His expression was soft and he burned with such adoration that Obi Wan was surprised he didn’t sense it sooner.

Whoever that young woman was, Caleb was deeply in love with her.

There was a sour taste on the back of Obi Wan’s tongue that had nothing to do with the tea. He had seen this before and he had seen where it led. But unlike the tight possessiveness that had leached from Anakin, Obi Wan felt nothing but pure light. Caleb’s love for this woman was unconditional but even still, it couldn’t beat back the cold fingers of fear that creeped up Obi Wan’s spine.

Do you trust him so little? A long forgotten voice echoed faintly in his mind.

It wasn’t about trust, he wanted to say. He had trusted Anakin with his life and look at what had happened in return. A Jedi’s purpose was to love but from his point of view, this type of love would only end in heartbreak.

In the heart of a Jedi, lies their strength. The voice replied softly, fading back into his memories.

Obi Wan glanced over at the two again, the playful smile on Caleb’s lips making the woman’s cheeks flush with color. There was no darkness hiding in the corners of their minds. Despite the pain and horrors Caleb had suffered he was still a beacon of the light, a Jedi, even in hiding.

He wasn’t Anakin.

Caleb kissed the side of the Twi’lek’s cheek, the tips of her lekku curling pleasantly. She wrapped a gloved hand around his and pulled him away from the wall. They walked together towards the spaceport, huddled close as if existing in their own personal universe.

Obi Wan closed his eyes, fighting back the urge to follow after them. It had been so long, so long, since he had seen another Jedi. He had spent too many nights lying awake and thinking he was the only survivor, he was willing to bet Caleb had as well. He longed for the connection all Jedi felt, the familiarity that came with being with ones people. He walked to talk to Caleb, to learn what Depa’s curious padawan was doing, how he survived, if he had come across any other surviving Jedi. He wanted Caleb to feel the sense of warmth he was feeling now, knowing that he wasn’t the only Jedi left in this harsh galaxy.

But he couldn’t risk it, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was placed on Tatoonie for a reason and he could not put that in jeopardy. He could only watch as they disappeared into the spaceport.

Still, Caleb’s presence filled Obi Wan with hope. If he survived, then others could have too.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

Caleb was alive.

Obi Wan was not alone.

#kanera #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #obi wan kenobi #shleby writes #pretchatta #anoray #ailtara #opalknight #eries45 #i wrote this while listening to 'your father would be proud' and man that hurt #star wars: rebels #swr fanfic #swr fan fic #star wars

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thebluesideofmyworld · 3 years ago

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A Good Guy - A Solangelo One-Shot

Summary: Will might be a lot of things. And among those things, Will would dare to say that he’s a good guy. But when it came to Nico di Angelo, would he ever be good enough, though?

Word count: 3900 words || Rating: Teenage and Up Audiences || Read on AO3

Notes:

1. Based on the song "good guys" by LANY 2. My contribution for @after-everything-pjo-zine project. Check out other fics (each fic is accompanied by great fanart so you just HAVE to check it out) in the zine here.

***

Will might be a lot of things. And among those things, Will would dare to say that he’s a good guy. And he would proudly say that it’s because his family raised him to be one. His Mama made sure that he never forgot to say please, sorry and thank you, and his grandma taught him to respect people. Even though Apollo wasn’t around to be an ideal father as Will was growing up in Tennessee, his grandpa showed him how to be a Southern gentleman.

So yeah, he might come across as a young man who with a sassy attitude. But heck, Will knew that he was a good guy. And he’s proud of that.

But here’s the thing. Here’s a thing about being a good guy. Being a good guy might sound like it’s a good thing to do. But being a good guy also sometimes meant that you’re almost as invisible as a wallflower. Because even though you’re good, there were always be better guys. And one thing that Will learned about being a good guy? Good guys never win.

***

“It’s been almost two weeks, you know,” Will said as he kept his eyes at the monthly medical report that he (pretended) to be reading.

“Two weeks since what?” Kayla asked, but didn't bother to pretend that she's actually interested.

“Since Nico went for that quest, remember? Something about Persephone’s parrot or something?” Will said, still trying to keep his eyes at the notes. Because he knew that Kayla might still see the worry in Will’s eyes. (Sometimes it’s almost scary, how his siblings knew him too well).

“Oh? Really? Has it been two weeks yet?”

“Almost,” Will said, decided to leave the detail that it’s actually has been 11 days and since Nico had left the camp early in the morning and now it was almost dinner, it’s been almost twelve freaking days since Nico left the camp for that stupid quest.

“I mean, of course, it might be nothing but well, I thought it was supposed to be a short, simple quest?” Will continued. “Usually if it’s just this small quest, it never took him this long before. Usually it would just be like, three days, five, at the most, and like, a week if he took a detour to impulsively do something unnecessary, but never this long.”

Will lifted his head and turned to look at Kayla, who didn’t seem to share the same worry as Will. Her eyes were still fixed on the glossy pictures of the magazine that she was looking at. A non-committal hum coming from her was the only sign that she was (kind of) listening.

Will tried to focus on the lines of writing in front of him, but the letters were all jumbled and he couldn’t make himself try to read anything. His mind was too busy thinking about different reasons and scenarios of why Nico wasn’t back yet from the quest.

“Do you think I should ask Chiron about it? Probably he’s heard from Nico, y’know. Like, maybe something came up and I don’t know, maybe Chiron knew or maybe even Rachel got a vision or something, or-“

“Or you could have just contacted me, Solace. Pretty sure that it doesn't hurt to try IM me”

Will stood up and spun to face the direction where the voice was coming from. He did it so fast, he got dizzy because of it. It took him two seconds before his eyes could fully focus on Nico di Angelo, who was staring at him. His face looked nonchalant, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

“Uh, hey,” Will greeted, gripping the desk as he suddenly needed to get a hold of himself. “You’re back.”

Nico gave him a single nod, brushing away some strands of hair from covering his eyes. “Yep. I just got back.” He shrugged his shoulders before continuing. “Thought I’d drop by here before I report to Chiron.”

Will tightened his grip on the desk, trying his best to hold himself from closing the distance between him and Nico just to pull Nico into his arms.

“And uh… What brings you here?”

The emotional part of him wished that he was the reason why Nico came straight to the infirmary after the quest. But the rational part of him shushed him. That damned rational part of him told him that hey, it was him who wanted to see Nico, not the other way around.

Nico kept his eyes at Will and there was something in those dark eyes that Will couldn’t really put his fingers on.

“I thought you wanted me to have a check-up every time I got back from a quest?”

Of course.

Will tried to ease the dull pain in his heart by giving Nico a small smile. “Yeah. Of course. Need to make sure that you won’t fade into the shadows again, huh?” Will let out a nervous chuckle. “I mean, I am your doctor, and a doctor only wants the best for his patients.”

This time Nico stayed silent as he nodded. Will gestured to a nearby cot with his chin.

“Now, if you could just sit down over there, please?”

Still saying nothing, Nico strode to the cot and quickly sat there. Will took a deep breath, mentally telling himself to be professional, and let it out in a long exhale. He made his way to where Nico was waiting for him.

The check-up was a regular one. And there was nothing new about how touching Nico made stupid butterflies do some stupid dancing in his stomach. He ached to ask Nico questions about what happened in the quest and why it took so long. He wanted to know whether Nico ever thought of him while he was on the quest the way Will kept on thinking about him while he was away. He wanted to listen to Nico talk to him, with that slight accent that made his voice so melodious, almost like he was singing.

But it would only scare Nico away.

So he kept his eyes at the board where he jotted down the notes about Nico’s vitals.

“So, uhm… This quest was a bit longer than usual, huh?” Will asked, almost proud of himself that his voice sounded normal.

Nico hummed as he put his jacket back on. “Yeah, we had an unexpected encounter with some empousai. Luckily, David is unexpectedly good at fighting.”

At the mention of the name, Will lifted his head up. “David? You mean the new camper? That Athena kid?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah. For someone who never held a sword before, I have to say that I’m impressed.”

A strange, nauseating heat flared inside Will’s stomach. “Really?”

“Yup. In fact, I promised to give him an extra lesson in sword-fighting tomorrow.”

That strange heat swirled even more inside Will. He stretched his lips into a lame attempt to smile at Nico.

“Oh,” Will said. “Nice.”

“In one way, he strangely reminded me of Percy, you know? The way he held his sword.” And Nico continued talking for a while about that stupid new guy. Will listened, humming every now and then just to show Nico that he’s listening.

Half of his mind wished that the harpies would find that David kid to be a nice target for their dinner. The other half of his mind scowled at him for having that kind of evil wish.

“Okay. Everything looks good. Just make sure that you drink enough water,” Will said as he wrote the date and signed his name on the bottom part of the report.

“So I can go now?”

Will nodded. “Yeah, you’re free to go now,” he answered as he walked back to his desk to put the record in the folder.

“And you’re not even offering to walk me back to my Cabin like a good Southern gentleman?”

Will spun on his heel quickly. He stared at Nico with wide eyes, thinking that he might have been hallucinating.

“What?”

Nico snorted and slid down from the cot. “Never mind. I need to report to Chiron first anyway.”

Will blinked, and it took him a full two seconds before he had his voice again.

“Nico-“

But Nico was already one step away from the door. He stopped and looked at Will over his shoulder. The left tip of his lips curled up, just slightly, forming a ghost of a smile. He gave a two-finger salute to Will.

“I’ll see you around, Solace.”

Not waiting for Will to answer him, Nico stepped away. And just like that, he’s out of sight.

Will stared at the open door. There is this hollowness inside his heart that he couldn't explain. Like he just missed a chance.

He always thought that he’s a good guy. Or at least, he’s trying to.

But would he ever be good enough, though?

***

“What are you doing here?”

Lou Ellen’s voice startled Will.

“Me? Uh…” Will scrambled to pick up the book that he just dropped and showed it to Lou, like he was trying to prove something. “I was reading!”

Lou Ellen stared at him with a glint of amusement in her eyes as she gave Will the Look. The ‘don’t-give-me-bullshit’ Look.

“What, am I not allowed to read in peace?” Will said, a bit defensively.

“Hey, it’s cool dude,” Lou said. “In fact, it was nice to see you somewhere else aside from the infirmary,” she added.

Will relaxed a bit, going back to lean his back on the tree.

“I can see why you choose this spot. It’s much quieter than the infirmary on your busy days,” Lou said.

Will hummed. His eyes flickered to the far left, to the clearing a few yards away, just for a split second before he opened his book.

“And the view from here is also… decent.”

Lou Ellen’s tone made Will quickly look up again at the daughter of Hecate. She’s now grinning at him, like she just figured something out.

“How long have you been spying on those two?” Lou asked, gesturing with her chin to two demigods in the clearing who seemed to just finished sparring.

Will gaped at her. He blinked and quickly shook his head. “What? No! I’ve told you, I was reading here!”

But Lou Ellen didn’t seem to care about Will’s reaction as she waved at the demigods in the clearing.

“Hey, Nico! David!”

Will’s eyes widened in horror this time as he turned his head around, only to see that Nico and the new Athena kid walked towards them.

“Lou!” he hissed in annoyance.

Lou Ellen just gave him a teasing smirk. “What?”

Will groaned and quickly stood up, his book abandoned on the grass as he unconsciously ran a hand over his wild locks.

“Hey,” Nico greeted. “What’s up?”

Nothing’s up aside from his heartbeat, Will would like to answer. But of course, he kept it to himself as he tried his best to school his face into a relaxed, nonchalant, I’m-just-chilling-here expression.

“Nothing much,” Lou Ellen shrugged her shoulders. “You two are sparring together here? Why? Is the arena too mainstream for you?”

The new Athena kid gave a half-smile as he brushed off some hair from covering his eyes. “It was my request, actually,” he said. “I just want to have a...” he waved his right in a vague circular motion, like trying to find the exact word to say. “A more… realistic view when fighting a monster?”

That didn’t really make sense to Will. But it seemed to be an acceptable reason for Lou Ellen as she nodded at him.

“And has Nico been a good teacher for you?” Lou Ellen asked.

Will didn’t miss the way Lou gave him a quick glance.

David’s half-smile turned into a full one. “He is!” He turned his head to Nico and smiled at him, like he was pleased at Nico. “Thanks for teaching me, Nico. You are very good at sword-fighting.”

Nico returned David’s smile with one of his small smiles. A smile that could have filled Will’s chest with warm air. But since he’s not at the receiving end of that smile, it turned Will’s chest into lead instead.

“Anytime. It was a pleasure.”

“You will teach me more, yes? And ah… We also need to talk more. About football.”

This was the first time for Will to really listen to David talking, and he couldn’t help but notice how David’s voice had quite an accent. Especially when he pronounced football, the way he stretched some syllables.

Nico’s face lit up. “Yeah! We should! I know that Cecil played football! Right?” His eyes darted from Will to Lou Ellen, like asking for confirmation.

“Cecil? He does. I can take you to talk to him. Come on,” Lou Ellen quickly pulled the sleeve of David’s shirt and led him away from the other two demigods.

Will watched the backs of Lou Ellen and David who were walking away from them. He could feel nervousness starting to creep in on him as their voices slowly faded away, as he realized that he’s now alone with Nico.

Not that he hated to be with Nico. It’s just… this wasn’t his plan. He wasn’t prepared. And Will hated it when things didn’t go as he planned. He hated it when he was unprepared.

“David played football,” Nico said just when David and Lou Ellen disappeared from their sight.

Will angled his neck to look at Nico. “And when you said football, did you mean soccer?”

“I mean football,” Nico answered, turning on his heels a little so now he was facing Will. “The real football.”

Will snorted and slid down to sit on the grass. “They’re the same,” he said, leaning his back on the tree.

Nico followed Will, sitting on the grass. “It will always be football for me,” he said. There was a melancholic tone lacing his voice. And it made Will wonder, maybe it’s something that Nico used to play. In the streets in Venice, when he was just a kid who had no idea that Greek gods and goddesses were real.

“We, David and I, we were talking about playing here. I mean, it would be great, you know? David said he played midfield. I’m usually,” Nico paused, but quickly continued. “I mean, I used to play as a striker. If we can connect well, that would be really cool.”

Will closed his eyes while his stomach churned with a strange, unpleasant feeling. So, not only was this David kid good in sword-fighting, he’s good in soccer too?

“Do you play too? I mean, you can be the goal keeper. I guess you would be great. I mean, you’re tall and it would be a great asset for a goalkeeper.”

Will huffed. Stuck between the goalposts while watching Nico and David scoring goals? Yeah. No, thank you.

“We’ll see about that,” Will said, still with his eyes closed.

For a while, none of them said anything. Will opened his eyes when he heard Nico sighed. He turned his head, watching Nico stand up. Nico brushed his pants, and gave Will a small smile.

“I’ll see you around, Solace.”

Will wondered why that smile looked a bit strained, but returned it anyway. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

He watched as Nico walked away.

Someone would be a good guy for Nico, he thought. And even though Will was a good guy, maybe he just wasn’t good enough. So of course, someone would be a good guy for Nico. Someone else. Not Will.

***

Will didn’t even know why he was here, standing awkwardly near the table where the food and drinks were.

Oh, yes. Because Cecil and Lou Ellen practically dragged him here, to this stupid Halloween party organized by the Aphrodite Cabin.

It’s not that Will disliked Halloween. And it wasn’t like he hated Halloween parties either. What he didn’t like, was seeing Nico talking with David at the other corner of the room. Just looking at the sight made a strange, nauseating fire flame inside of him.

“Pining over di Angelo again?” Lou Ellen nudged him on his shoulder.

“Yeah. How long are you going to act like this Will? Playing it cool while we all know how you wish you’re the one talking to di Angelo instead of David?” Cecil joined Lou Ellen in interrogating Will.

Will only rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” he mumbled, and took another sip of Coke from his cup. He tried to watch the campers who were dancing in the middle of the floor. Some kids from the Hermes cabin somehow got a hold of speakers. And of course, with a little help from the Hephaestus kids, the party had a cool sound system that was now playing pop music.

Lou Ellen sighed. Will stole another glance at where Nico was standing. David was leaning a little to whisper something at Nico. The proximity between those two made it a little bit harder for Will to breathe. He wondered what it was that David was telling Nico. But then Nico turned his head to Will. And no matter how cliché it might sound, Will’s heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. Will quickly looked down to the floor.

Next to him, Lou Ellen clicked her tongue.

“You know what? I can’t take this anymore. It’s been MONTHS. This has got to end tonight,” she said. Ignoring Will’s protest, she grabbed Will’s wrist and pulled him along with her, walking towards Nico and David.

A few seconds later, Will was standing with a flustered face in front of Nico and David.

“Hey, Nico, David! You guys enjoying the party?”

David gave that half-smile again. “Ah, yes. The party is nice.” He angled his neck just a bit so now he was looking right at Will. The half-smile subtly transformed into a knowing smirk. “And you? You… You are the healer, yes? Will?”

Will forced himself to smile politely at David. “Yeah. That’s me.”

David gave a single nod. “Nico talked a lot about you. A lot of good things.”

Will blinked. His eyes darted to Nico, but the raven-haired boy looked away from him. Still, his cheeks were a dark shade of red.

“Is that Cecil over there? I think I want to talk to him,” David suddenly said as he pointed at Cecil with his chin. “Lou Ellen? Come with me?”

Lou Ellen grinned as she nodded and made a 90-degree turn on her heels. “Yeah, come on, David. Let's leave these two idiots.”

And just like that, they left Will again, standing awkwardly less than two feet away from Nico.

“Uh… I didn’t expect to see you here,” Will said.

Nico turned his head at Will, an eyebrow slightly raised up. “Oh? I thought you were the one saying that I need to work on my social skill.”

Will gave Nico a small smile. “Yeah. So. Good to see you here, then. I mean, for your social skills and all.”

Nico stared at Will. And there was just something behind those dark eyes. Something that Will couldn’t put into words. Something that made him unable to look away.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to dance, Solace?”

The question got Will off-guard. Of all the questions in the world, it’s probably the most unexpected one.

“Huh?”

Nico held his eyes at Will’s for another second, but then he looked away. “Never mind,” he said, half-mumbling. His cheeks blushed again into dark cherry color.

“But… do you want to, though?”

Nico’s head turned back to Will. “Want to do what?”

“Dance? Do you…want to?”

Nico bit his lower lip and he looked down for a second. When he looked up back at Will, his charcoal eyes were soft.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On who’s asking me to.”

Will’s heart started to jump around in his chest.

“What if it’s me asking you?”

The eyes that were staring back at him were now smiling.

“Then I guess, it depends on the song, then.”

Will’s heart was probably doing some crazy somersaults right now, but his lips curled up without him even thinking about it.

“Well, it’s my favorite song that they’re playing right now. I hope it suits you?” he asked, carefully offering his hand.

Nico’s smile was as soft as the look in his eyes. And the moment their fingertips touched, Will’s heart soared high and suddenly his chest was filled with warm, light air.

As Will led Nico to the floor, he thought about how long he has been wanting to do this, to hold Nico’s hand in his.

They swayed along with the music. Nico’s left hand felt perfect in his right hand. Will’s left hand rested on Nico’s hip and Will couldn’t care less about the other people dancing around them.

“Your dancing is better than your singing,” Nico said, a playful smile on his lips.

Will chuckled. “My grandma said a real Southern gentleman must know how to dance. And I remember my Mama dancing with me when I was a kid.”

“Your Mam raised you well, I have to say.”

Will hummed. “I’m a good mama’s boy, I can promise you that.”

“I can see that, Will. Everyone can see that.”

“See what?”

“That you’re a good guy.”

This time Will held his eyes at Nico. “I try to be,” he said. “But… Would I ever be good enough for you?”

Nico huffed. “And you said I was the dense one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Nico stopped, but his feet kept on moving. He sighed. “Gods, do I really have to spell it out to you?” He asked, sounding exasperated as he looked away from Will.

Hope bloomed inside of Will and he grinned and oh, how he wanted to shout and laugh. He took his hand off Nico’s hip so he could gently cup Nico’s cheek, guiding him to face him back.

“Do you mean you like me?” Will asked.

“Well, do you like me?”

Will chuckled and he could feel a stupid smile creeping in. “Why do you even have to ask?”

Nico shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Because you’re nice to me but you’re also nice to everyone? Because you don’t seem to care even if I talk about someone else? Because you…” Nico stopped again and shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe because I just…don’t know?”

Will squeezed Nico’s hand just a bit tighter. “I was just… I was just afraid that I’m not good enough for you.”

Nico rolled his eyes. But his lips twitched, like he tried to hold back a smile.

“You’re a good guy, Will. You’re a good guy to everyone. But sometimes I hope that you can be my good guy.”

It’s like a thousand birds were singing inside of Will now as he felt like he was floating in this bubble of happiness.

“Then I’ll be yours, Death Boy.”

Will wrapped his arms around Nico, and pulled him into his embrace.

“I’ll be your good guy, then. I’ll be your everything.”

Nico pulled himself a little away from Will. He looked up at Will and the light in his eyes was like the most beautiful star in a dark night.

“Everything?”

“Everything. Anything you need.”

***

Additional Author's Notes: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :). Reblogs, replies or any other feedbacks are much appreciated. Also please don't forget to check out the zine!!!

#solangelo #solangelo one shot #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo fanfic #solangelo fic

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hercleverboy · 3 years ago

Text

the year of goodbyes

spencer reid x gn!reader

masterlist

summary ↠ over the course of a year, Spencer says goodbye to three people— and hello to one.

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ takes place in s11, talk of Alzheimer’s,

word count ↠ 1.8k

massive shoutout to my beloved @ellesgreenaway for beta reading and encouraging me to finish this piece— india you are my actual saving grace

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.” — Paulo Coelho

People leaving wasn’t exactly a new concept for Spencer.

He knew it all too well, the familiar look that was cast over peoples features, how their eyes got glassy and lips twitched as they prepared to tell him that they were yet another person who would leave him behind— like so many had before.

But their choice of words was always different. He noticed a sort of pattern, when it came to people walking out of his life. They tended to dance around the words, never exactly saying ‘I’m leaving you.’

First, it was his father. He’d watched him pack a suitcase full of things, spit angry words at his mother and then turn to him, his son— placing his hand on his shoulder, mumbling a few cowardly words and that was that. Spencer no longer had a father.

(‘I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to look after you anymore.’)

Second was Gideon, who never actually said goodbye in person (and Spencer couldn’t decide whether that was better or worse.) Instead, he left, wrote words down on a page and then addressed it to him.

(‘Spencer, I knew you would be the one to come down here.’)

And again, with Alex. Not a goodbye, not in the formal sense, but Spencer’s heart ached with how he knew what this was— he recognised the look on her face and knew that once again, he would lose someone he loved.

(‘You know, Ethan would’ve been a lot like you.’)

Everyone in Spencer’s life started to feel temporary. There one minute, gone the next. He wished that meant that he cared any less for them, or that it hurt any less when they left.

Of course, that was never the case.

His mother’s mental state had been deteriorating rapidly, and nothing— not anything that Spencer’s big genius brain could think of — was helping her.

When he visited her, he saw the vacant look in her eyes. He recognised the look of confusion on her face when he’d enter the room, ignoring how his heart squeezed painfully upon realising that his own mother no longer remembered him.

It would take her a few minutes, but eventually the confusion would disappear and she would give him a smile, greeting him with open arms and warm words.

It was a different kind of leaving, but she was leaving him all the same. She wasn’t physically going anywhere, but, mentally?

He saw how she was deteriorating, he argued with countless doctors and medical professionals, exhausting every book and resource he could find— just hoping he could come up with something.

But, no.

He found it a little ironic. He was the boy wonder, the resident genius of the Bureau’s elite behavioural analysis unit, a smartass who had endless amounts of knowledge.

He always had the answer, always had the solution.

Ironic— because the man who was supposed to know it all, had no clue how to protect his mother from a disease that would inevitably take her from him.

It wasn’t something he would ever come to terms with, it was never something he would accept. He knew how it was going to go, the doctors told him as much.

The day would come that he would walk into his mother’s room, and those vacant eyes would never gain clarification. Her confusion wouldn’t pass, and she would no longer recognise him.

Spencer dreaded that day.

He feared it, even.

Because the day he lost his mother would be the day he lost himself.

When Catherine Adams’ file came across Spencer’s desk, he thrusted all of his agony over his mother into the case. It was why he decided that he would be the one to take her down in the restaurant, why he insisted that she wouldn’t perceive him as a threat.

Oddly enough, Spencer found himself intrigued by her. Perhaps, he simply enjoyed being intellectually challenged in such a way. Or perhaps, somewhere deep down in the darkest parts of himself, he liked the attention, got off on being able to outsmart her.

He was smug when he managed to trick her into getting into the back of the police van, under the guise that he’d found her father. (After all, she was ‘just another girl with daddy issues’.)

It was only when Cat gave him a grin, one that contrasted with the tears that slipped down her cheeks, that Spencer felt uneasy.

He crouched down in front of her, whispered a small, “Goodbye, Cat,” before getting up and leaving the van, feeling a weight on his chest that made it difficult for him to breathe.

Again, it was a different type of goodbye. One he was of course relieved about, because with it brought the promised safety of Penelope, now that Cat was behind bars. Although, alongside the relief, there was a sour aftertaste.

It was what led him to take a moment, sitting down on the swings in the park, hands trembling slightly as they grabbed the chains, swinging gently in a slow rhythm that he hoped would calm him down.

The last words Cat had said to him played over and over in his head.

“In twenty years, you won’t remember my name. But I’ll remember yours.”

At first, Spencer assumed she was referring to how after a while, Cat would simply blend into the sea of seemingly never-ending unsubs who all tried, and failed, to outsmart the team.

It was only later that Spencer realised she was instead insinuating that he would succumb to the same disease as his mother— forgetting not only those that he loved, but the ones he hated too.

Spencer’s best friend was going to be a father.

The team were gathered in the waiting room, eagerly awaiting news, when Morgan came out with a smile on his face. “It’s a boy!”

Pure, unbridled joy burst throughout the room, with Spencer lurching forward to wrap his arms around him, laughing and giving his congratulations. He swallowed the lump that began to form in his throat and pushed away the thoughts that swirled around his mind. Deep down, he knew what would inevitably happen, but that moment wasn’t the right time to think about it.

It was late in the evening when Derek Morgan stopped by Spencer’s desk. Before he even looked up from his paperwork, he knew where this conversation was going to go. When he did look up, it all but confirmed it— he saw the sad smile on Morgan’s lips, and watched how his eyes glossed over.

He said nothing though. Instead, he smiled and chuckled as Morgan gushed over his newborn son. His smile got even bigger when Morgan handed over the birth announcement— Hank Spencer Morgan.

Although he knew what was coming, he knew what decision Morgan was going to make, he expected nothing less from his best friend. A man who had grown immensely in the years he’d known him, going from a real ladies man to someone who would give up his job in order to be there for his family.

Morgan placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, a sigh leaving his lips. “Kid, listen. Here’s the thing..”

“I know.” Spencer whimpered quietly, smiling sadly. “It’s okay. I know. And I understand.”

He watched Derek Morgan walk away, sniffling as he willed the tears to keep at bay. He watched his best friend, his brother, walk away. And it hurt, God it hurt. But he was so proud of the man that Morgan had become that he pushed aside the hurt, reminding himself of what he knew to be true.

Everyone left eventually.

Spencer feared that one day, he would look around and find that he was truly and utterly alone.

It was a normal Tuesday morning, and Spencer was making his way through the FBI Headquarters, up to the BAU floor. He stepped into the elevator, his coffee mug in one hand, and his other resting over his satchel. Just before the door closed, he heard someone call out.

“Hold the doors!”

Spencer reached a hand out, pushing the doors back open.

You scuttled into the elevator, looking over to the male next to you with a smile. “Thank you for holding the doors. I’m already running a little late for my first day.” You explained, reaching to press the button for the fifth floor, watching as the elevator doors closed again.

“The fifth floor? The Sex Crimes Unit?” Spencer asked curiously.

You nodded.

“It’s your first day?”

“Yeah, I moved here for the job a couple of weeks back. It was an incredible opportunity, I couldn’t pass it up.” You expressed, and Spencer gave you a tight lipped smile in return. “I’m presuming you work here as well?”

He nodded. “I’m in the Behavioural Analysis Unit, a floor up from you.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. At least I have one friend in the building, if it turns out my new team hate me.” You joked, glad when Spencer let out a little laugh.

“I’m sure that won’t be the case. You seem very likeable.”

You grinned up at him. “Thank you.”

The elevator dinged, the doors opening. You looked over at your new friend, flashing him a nervous smile. “Well, wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” He smiled back, raising his hand in a small wave as you left the elevator.

After a long day of paperwork (and thinking of the pretty person he’d met in the elevator), Spencer gathered together his things before getting into the elevator. It stopped on the floor below, and when the doors opened, he smiled at the sight of you.

You looked up from where you’d been looking down at your phone, mirroring his grin. “Hey! It’s you.”

“Yes—yes, It is, me.” Spencer replied, cringing awkwardly at his nonsensical response.

You only laughed quietly at it, entering the elevator.

“How was your first day?” He asked, only to be polite.

You seemed surprised that he’d asked, but answered nonetheless. “It was good! Turns out my team don’t hate me. Or at least, I don’t think they do?” Your voice raised in question, making Spencer laugh a little.

“See? What did I tell you?” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

You leaned over, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Spencer.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Spencer. For the second time today.”

Spencer smiled shyly, hands delving into his pockets as the elevator dinged. The two of you stepped out, looking at one another with timid expressions.

“My car, it’s that way.” You pointed to the other end of the car park.

“I take the subway.” Spencer responded, wishing he could find a way to make you stay a little longer.

“Well, have a good evening, Spencer.” You beamed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes!” He responded a little eagerly, sighing inwardly before clearing his throat. “I mean yeah, sure that- that’s cool.”

You giggled quietly, waving goodbye before turning toward your car.

Spencer blushed the whole way to the subway station, biting back the smile on his lips at the thought of you.

People leaving wasn’t exactly a new concept for Spencer.

But you?

He had the feeling that you were going to be a very permanent part of his life, and he didn’t mind that in the slightest.

permanent taglist: @beyonces-breastmilk @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @thelovelyrose @averyhotchner @cynbx @calm-and-doctor @reidyoulikeabook @jemimah-b99 @muffin-cup @shadyladyperfection @rigatonireid @amoeebaa @mggsprettygirl @alltooreid @awritingtree @you-sunshine @bunny-script @spencerreid9 @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mystical-and-modern-marauder

spencer reid taglist: @reidtome @justreadingficsdontmindme

click here to be added to my taglist!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x gn!reader #mgg #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds

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smutsonian · 4 years ago

Note

Dark!bucky X pregnant reader with someone else’s baby

dark!bucky x pregnant reader with someone else’s baby

warnings: darkish, smut, obsession, possessiveness, some violence, stalker!bucky, manipulation, asshole ex, i dont do crack but i was on crack when i wrote this but i dont do crack, not prrofread

word count: 1.4k

an: so i have no idea how to make a headcanon so this is an attempt pls go easy on me im a lil bitch

masterlist

- Dark bucky with a pregnant reader having a baby that’s not his will probably be an obsessed dark bonky barnacle

- Like fresh out of hydra bucky who’s so lost but then he sees you, a pregnant woman all alone, carrying bags of groceries.

- He’d be so mesmerized by your glow that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from walking towards you and helping you.

- It’s like he’s never seen something so pure but then there you are, walking around with this light surrounding you. Like a goddess in Bucky’s eyes.

- He would be a terrific actor because you wouldn’t even notice his accent and how does this guy able to speak a lot of words just like that? He’s suddenly a friendly dude. Far from the assassin described all over the news.

- He won’t ask about the lack of a partner by your side but he can easily manipulate the conversation to that topic.

- “How come a lady like yourself is all on your own?”

- And just like that, you tell him your life story. Maybe it’s because of the hormones that you just wanted to rant about your horrible partner that left you the minute you told him the news or maybe it’s because you felt so safe with this hot stranger… A big mistake on your side, to be honest. Or is it?

- Bucky would listen to every word you’d say while he memorizes every single detail about you. The way your lips move when you talk, the way you would lick your lips when you’ve been talking nonstop. How you smell; he’ll inch closer to you just to get a whiff and he’ll be so intoxicated.

- He’ll be walking you back to your home and that will be the start of something…

- Bucky would be watching your every move. He’d call it watching over you but dark bonky is bonkers.

- And he’ll see you interacting with children at the cafe, at the bakery, anywhere and his heart will melt at how you’re so good with children.

- Then he’ll see how your stomach will grow bigger as the child inside grows and this guy’s protectiveness will grow as well…

- Obsessed and protective bucky is a lot to take in

- BUT obsessed, protective, jealous, AND horny bucky will be the death of all vaginas.

- He’d watch as your asshole ex-boyfriend comes back, trying to win you back and bucky would just wait for how you’ll react while his whole body heats up with anger, hungry for murder. Preferably your ex-boyfriend.

- But then bucky would be all giddy and would wear a grin all the time when he sees you reject the asshole, telling him that you’ve fallen for someone else.

- That grin would soon fall when this asshole of an ex of yours calls you names such as a slut, whore, and whatnot.

- That grin comes back when bucky finally deals with that ex-boyfriend.

- Would you look at that? Bucky answers your call the next day, crying your heart out because your asshole ex came back which hurt your feelings and a very hormonal pregnant woman can’t just go through all that.

- Bucky is there to the rescue because he’s at your door in a blink with a lot of comfort food.

- Your heart melts at that and you’d fall for him deeper every moment he’s with you.

- How can a guy be so perfect?

- You’d secretly wish he’s the father of your unborn child.

- That wish wouldn’t be much of a dream because bucky would confess his love to you and dadadada would you look at that! You’d fall even MORE because of how he kissed your bump, promising you and the baby that he’ll take good care of you.

- Could you be more in love? This man would always talk to your bump and will always be at your service.

- You whine from back pain? This guy will give you the best massage ever.

- Cravings? No problem because this guy will fill your pantry until the whole grocery is moved into your home. The home that became bucky’s as well.

- Of course, due to pregnancy hormones, you’d be hungry for some action and you best believe that bucky will not let his girl wait.

- He’d give you everything.

- He’d see you whining, noticing how you’ve been grumpy the whole day and he’ll act oblivious but he exactly knows what’s happening. He can practically smell your fluids, duh.

- “What’s wrong, doll?” His voice would be extra sultry and you would just blame it on your hormones but this mf is doing it on purpose.

- You’d try to play it cool but this man will do everything that’ll make you so very hot and bothered.

- “How about a massage?” He’ll over, already running his hands over your stiff shoulders and earning a moan from you.

- He only smirks as he plays your body like a fiddle.

- Then all of a sudden, you’re naked.

- He’d cloth you with oil, claiming that it’ll feel good and lord have mercy it does feel good.

- He’d start from your back, going lower and lower until his focus is on your ass.

- Bucky’s pants will get tighter as the smell of your arousal invades his senses and how about that? Now bucky is naked as well.

- He spreads your cheeks before inhaling your scent more.

- He’d admire the sounds you’re making as he devours that pussae.

- Cumming once will not be enough because he wouldn’t stop until you’re begging for his cock.

- “PLEASE BUCKY! I need it!” You’d scream out but that’s not enough for this fucker.

- “Tell me what you want, baby…” He’ll be sucking on your neck, continuously pulling moans from you.

- “I need your cock in my pussy…” You finally whisper, breathing heavily and squealing in ecstasy as his cock finally enters your begging cunt.

- “AAHH fuck!” Bucky would be having visions inside his head as soon as he gets that magical pussy skkskksks because he’s never felt this way before.

- He’d be rutting into you like a starved caveman and you’d be rutting your ass back against him, just as hungry as he is.

- You just feel so good around his cock. Your walls are so snug and so wet, bucky would fucking die for that pussae.

- After a few minutes, or maybe hours idk y’all are a different type of horny…

- You’ve cum a lot of times and bucky has spilled his seed inside you over and over…

- You’d be cuddling and this man is wrapped around you like a fuckin’ koala.

- He won’t let you get away unless you’re in an uncomfortable position. He’d let you adjust but then he’ll be back to cradling you.

- He’s palm would be stroking your belly.

- “I can’t wait for our baby to come,” he’ll whisper in your ear and you know you’ve already fallen in love with this man but fuck it. You’re deeper in it so gluck.

- You’d let him kiss your face and you’d tell him how thankful you are that you’ve met him.

- Then he’s like ‘no IM thankful for YOU’ kind of shit.

- “You know… After giving birth…” You’ll trail off, making bucky wait in anticipation but he already knows what’s coming.

- “I would want to have your baby…” You’ll say shyly but bucky’s having none of that. He’ll be peppering kisses all over your face, almost crying in joy at the words you just said.

- “I fucking love you. I love you more than you’ll ever know.” He’ll stare at you and you’ll stare right back at him.

- “Marry me.” He’ll say suddenly.

- Bucky almost feels guilty when you start to cry but you assure him that those were tears of joy and you’d just keep nodding your head.

- “Yes, I’ll marry you!” You’d share a kiss before going back to cuddling.

- Bucky would be watching you as you doze off and he’ll be admiring you as you start to fall asleep.

- “I love you,” he’ll say before he lets his cheeks fall on the top of your head.

- “I love you too, bucky,”bucky’s heart melts at your sleepy voice as he sleeps peacefully which he was only able to do when he’s with you.

- Bucky would be proud of himself for being able to orchestrate everything and he’s not even guilty about it because, in the end, he was able to have you.

- And soon enough, you’ll be having a big family with him. He’ll make sure of that.

----

an: i think i fucked up at some point lol sorry

taglist

General: @readermia @unlikelygalaxygiver @xoxabs88xox @anncutamarica @chaoticfiretaconerd @i-love-superhero @caffiend-queen @coconutqueen21 @jtargaryen18 @jennmurawski13 @mushyjellybeans @ninjabucky @evnscvll @buckstaybucky @donutloverxo @rebloggingeverything @adriannajackson @la-cey @awaywithtime @gotnofucks @littlegasps

Bucky Fics: @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

Chris and seb: @harrysthiccthighss

Marvel: @jemzeraion

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes smut #dark fic #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!fic #dark!bucky barnes x reader #pregnant!reader #headcanon #bucky barnes headcanon

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

Text

i know you get deja vu

word count: 1.4k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, cursing, it's mild angst up in this b

recommended listening: deja vu | olivia rodrigo

a/n: wrote this short little ditty while avoiding my adult responsibilities lmao. it is not great but i really like the premise, maybe one day i'll do something more with it

Your eyes have to be failing you.

There’s no way he showed up, let alone with another girl – who looks shockingly similar to you. She’s a more polished, more refined version of yourself, and anger bubbles in your stomach the moment you see him walk through the door with her in tow.

When your parents informed you they’d invited Pierre-Luc to your graduation party you shrugged it off. Their reasoning was he’d been a large part of your college experience, and it was sound enough logic. You stumbled across him in a coffee shop during your freshman year and quickly fell into a romance that lasted until a few months ago. The breakup was rather brutal, though your family doesn’t know that, so you didn’t expect him to stop by your parents’ house to congratulate you on completing your degree.

Much to your distaste he does make an appearance, with who you presume to be his new girlfriend. You don’t want to stare at the pair, but you can’t help it – they look good together, possibly better than you and Pierre did. However, you notice that the young woman has on a dress that’s identical to one hanging at the back of your closest. Pierre had bought it for you when you accompanied him to France one offseason, and the thought of him replicating the trip with her crosses your mind.

Finding it too much to be in the same room as him, you excuse yourself from a conversation with some of your father’s business partners and grab your sister by the elbow on the way into the sunroom.

“What’s the matter with you?” She grumbles, upset you pulled her away from a conversation with a boy she has a tiny crush on.

“He’s here,” you whisper shout, doing your best to inconspicuously point to the culprit of your dampened spirits.

“Who?”

“Luc.”

Her expression softens, and it’s clear she feels sorry for you. “Shit. I didn’t think he was actually going to show up.”

You let out a rather strangled laugh. “Me either, but he’s here and I don’t know what to do.”

The two of you stay tucked inside for a few more moments, deriving a plan that gets your ex-boyfriend off the premises as fast as possible without him seeing you. She heads outside first, making sure to grab one of your cousins who’s obsessed with hockey on her way. Together they make a beeline for Pierre, who is beyond excited to catch up with your family. You slip through the door and into a conversation with some fellow graduates in the back corner of the yard. It isn’t interesting, just about future plans, but it keeps you occupied. You’re careful to keep you back turned and your voice low – anything to keep your existence inconspicuous.

Your sister keeps Pierre-Luc busy, chatting to him about how the playoffs went and what his goals for the offseason are. A small crowd gathers around him, mostly just extended family members who haven’t seen him in a while, and he indulges their questions with a kind smile. You can tell your luck is running out, that he’s finally going to spot you in the crowd and rush over to say whatever he came here for. The fates are cruel, and at that moment your mother calls everyone into a circle for a toast.

“I want to thank you all for coming,” she says, pulling you to stand beside her. You can tell Pierre is looking at you, but you avert your eyes and look anywhere but him. Your mother continues talking. “We’re incredibly proud of our daughter for completing her degree, and we can’t wait to see what she does next. If you’re here, we appreciate the role you played in her success. To Y/N!”

Your name is chanted like a chorus, and your eyes meet Pierre’s as he raises his glass. The intensity of his stare makes you blush, and you bury your head into your father’s shoulder, playing it off as being overcome with emotion. More toasts ensue, including one where you thank everyone for their continued support, and then the cake is cut. You try to slip inside, praying that Pierre-Luc and his date will leave, but the devil himself grabs your elbows as you open the back door.

“Congratulations,” he says softly, accent thicker then the last time you heard his voice. You can’t lie to yourself – he looks good. The sunshine has done wonders for his skin, and the tattoos peeking out from his shirt sleeve look new.

“Thank you.”

You offer nothing more to the conversation, which clearly upsets him, but he doesn’t do anything other than knit his brows together. It makes sense that you wouldn’t want to speak to him since the last time you did was the screaming match that ended your relationship. You go to make your exit, but the small girl hanging off Pierre’s side speaks.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she smiles. “I’m Maisie. Luc talks about you a lot.”

“Pardon?” You’re caught off guard. Why would he talk about you to his new girlfriend?

The man in question shifts uncomfortably, like he’s going to get caught in a lie. “Yeah, it’s so nice that you guys are still friends.”

There it is. Saying that you split amicably is probably the only way he could convince her to attend this stupid party in the first place. “Ah,” you sigh, “Well not everyone is afforded the same luxury.”

Against your better judgement, you compliment her dress. Maisie thanks you graciously, explaining that Pierre bought it for her and once he’s cleared to leave Columbus they’ll be taking a trip to France, with a pit-stop in Portugal because she’s never been. Your insides churn, but you manage to keep a glaringly fake smile plastered on your face. The conversation shifts, and you find out that she also studies English Literature and expects to graduate next year. You laugh off all the coincidences, but it’s obvious to you and Pierre-Luc that Maisie is a substitute for the person who came before her.

“Why don’t you go get us some drinks babe?” Pierre asks, and the girl skips away after reaching on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

You fiddle nervously with the hem of your dress, anxious to be alone with him. “It isn’t what it looks like,” he starts, but you cut him off.

“It’s exactly what it looks like Luc, and don’t you fucking dare say otherwise.”

He lets out a defeated sigh. “So what if it is? I think it’s glaringly obvious that I still love you.”

No shit you think, but you bite your tongue and say something more respectable. “I’d say so. She’s exactly like me, but hopefully she won’t mind being asked to put her whole life on hold.” There’s a bite to your tone that you can’t help, but it sets Pierre-Luc on edge.

“You can’t still be fucking on about that.”

You’re seeing red now, irate that he is still choosing to minimize your emotions. “I am! Because you asked me not to continue school, which is something I explicitly told you I wanted to do, just so I could be a more conventional NHL girlfriend. And then you broke up with me when I said I wouldn’t do it.” You inhale a deep breath before continuing. “I hope you have fun with Maisie in France. You should take her to that little café we went to, in Bordeaux, where we ate so much food we couldn’t walk back to the hotel. And I hope that every time she looks at you like you hang the moon, you remember that you’re recycling our entire relationship because you let it fall apart at the seams.”

Perhaps your emotions got the best of you, because the look on Pierre-Luc’s face is nothing short of shock. You’re taken aback too – your parents raised you better than to say hurtful things, but seeing him again brought up a myriad of things you hadn't yet dealt with. Without another word, you spin on your heel and head inside, slamming the door behind you. It shouldn’t upset you this much, after so many months, but for a reason you’re unwilling to admit to yourself it does.

You sit in the bay window of your childhood bedroom, wrapped in a blanket even though it’s the beginning of summer, and watch as Pierre-Luc presses a kiss to her forehead before thanking your parents for inviting him one last time. Just like him, every relationship you have for the rest of your life will be an attempt to replicate the love you had for Pierre – a never-ending circle of deja vu.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice @2manytabsopen if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#pierre-luc dubois imagine #pierre-luc dubois x reader #pierre-luc dubois fic #winnipeg jets imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites

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bruhlsbees · 4 years ago

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paradox burning ; 1/5 || ernst schmidt x fem!reader

summary: after the fight between volkov and schmidt, you comfort schmidt in his quarters

pairing: ernst schmidt x fem!reader

warnings: over the clothes touching

word count: 4,666

taglist: @itsametaphorbriansblog

a/n: if you haven't read the preview i would suggest reading that first to understand the vibe of their relationship better!! chapter two will be up tonight!! just wanted to get this out as i've been lacking content these past few days since i've been celebrating my birthday. hope you enjoy and as always if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

“TAD throttle control, 8636. Line secure.”

Mother Mary be with us...be with Mama and Papa and sissy and Joe.

“Accelerator system status?”

Father give us the strength today, for we have dove into the depths of space to restore humanity as we know it.

“It’s holding for pre-ignition.”

Look after everyone down below on Earth - for times are dark and the sun does not appear to be rising anymore.

“Shepard team, you are go for countdown.”

I pray that you forgive all of our sins, Father, as we have learned our lessons and strive to move forward in honoring thy.

“We’ve all got our fingers crossed here at Mission Control. Let’s make this first one count.”

And help guide us through these troubling times and help everyone remember why we are up here.

“Status boosters?”

Is this Hell, Father?

“Go.”

Have you damned us all to Hell?

“The GNC?”

To pay for our sins?

“Go.”

Tell me, Father...

“Power up.”

Are we damned?

“Commander, Shepard team standing by for your go.”

Perhaps we are and this is where are days will end.

“On my count…”

Among strangers and empty.

“Three…”

Away from family...

“Two…”

Away from friends…

“One…”

Alone in our own thoughts.

“Mark.”

God, help us all.

TWO YEARS LATER

You awoke with a start. Gasping for air as you tugged at your tank top, as if the thin material was suffocating you. Not giving yourself time to process what had happened, you threw your legs out from under the warm covers and let the cool air hit your bare legs, your elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands, catching your breath.

This was the second week in a row now that you’ve woken up from a nightmare. Drenched in sweat and tears spilling from your eyes. It was always a reimagine of the previous one. If you dreamt of your father dying one night, the next it would be your mother. This night, it was your own life that you dreamt slipping away. Your finger pads swiped away the tears that fell down your cheeks before sliding onto the cool flooring, clasping your hands together to begin and pray.

“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit…” You began, crossing yourself as you settled on your knees, eyes closed and hands squeezed together tight. “Heavenly Father I ask that you watch over Mama and Papa...sissy and Joesph, and all those back home,” You cleared your throat, choking down the tears as you continued on once more. “We have been onboard for over two years and I miss everyone dearly. I hope to speak with them soon as Joesph is teaching Mama and Papa how to use video call.”

Even with all the photos that you had around your room, all the videos that you had programmed in to watch whenever you pleased, you were beginning to forget simple things - like how they smelled, the warmth of their hugs, and how they always tried to pawn your younger siblings onto you. You were always so mad babysitting them, losing out on time with your friends, but now...now you wished that you had the chance to babysit them, to be with them once again.

“Father, I ask that you forgive me for my sins, guide us through this mission, and take us home. All of us. Let this mission go well, and we can save Earth. Amen.”

You crossed yourself a final time, bringing your cross necklace from your chest where it sat and to your lips, kissing the gold piece of jewelry before standing up from the floor.

This was an everyday routine for you. Waking up, saying your morning prayer, taking a shower, and being down for breakfast by 08:00. It was early, you knew that, but you enjoyed having the calmer moments before everyone else woke up.

When you entered the bathroom, you went straight to the shower, turning the handle to let the warm water spute out. You were tired, swaying gently in your stance as your eyes grew heavy. The sudden spitting of water struggling to get out woke up, making you jump as you watched the water pressure went from weak to strong.

You pushed down your shorts from that night, pulling your tank top above you, and stepped out of your shorts, dropping the tank top on the floor before stepping into the shower. You were pleasantly greeted by the hot water, sighing as it hit your back and began easing the tension in your muscles.

Morning showers for you were always dangerous - either it could go very well and you’d be out in minutes, or it could go bad and you’d end up falling asleep leaning against the wall. On this particular morning, after dreaming of your own death, you did not wish to fall asleep again, scared of what could come from your slumber. You quickly washed yourself off, massaging your scalp as you washed your hair before taking the toothbrush you kept in the shower, opening up the tube of toothpaste, and began brushing your teeth.

It was such a mundane routine - almost finding it boring the longer you were onboard. Perhaps it was your schedule that was down to the second of when you did things. You never were one to be so particular about your schedule, having one so precise, but after a year of pure chaos on board, a mundane routine is what kept your little sanity still hanging.

When you were finally ready for the day and changed into your suit, you slid on your shoes and pulled your hair back into a low bun, tucking some of the loose pieces of hair behind your ear before heading out of your room and down the hall, going towards the common room to join the others for breakfast.

By the time you made it down to the common room, you were only the third to arrive - Mundy and Acosta beating you to it.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up!”

From your spot at the bagel machine, you looked over into the game room where Mundy and Acosta stood playing foosball, Mundy looking all too proud - indicating that he perhaps was winning. On the other hand, Acosta looked tired, almost too tired to be playing a game of foosball so early with Mundy.

Letting out a laugh, you shook your head and turned your attention back to the bagel, sighing once it finished before pulling it out from the machine and placing it on your plate. You truly didn’t understand how half the stuff you consumed was edible, but you supposed it beat other things you’ve seen those in space eat.

Taking a seat in your spot at the table, your back facing Mundy and Acosta, you brought the bagel to your mouth and took a bite, maybe a little bigger than what was more polite, but you didn’t care, you were starving.

It was the Commander who came in next, greeting everyone with a morning as he got his own breakfast before sitting across from you at the other end of the table. When the two of you locked eyes, you nodded, continuing to chew your bagel before looking down, not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that you had a shit night.

You were pleased when Commander didn’t seem to notice, glancing occasionally into the lounge room where Mundy and Acosta continued to play foosball, Acosta finally gaining the upper hand on Mundy for once.

One by one the rest of the crew began to show: Volkov, Tam, Schmidt, before eventually Hamilton joined as well. When Schmidt came in, walking beside Tam speaking in Mandarian about what you assumed to be something related to the Shepard power accelerator. As the two sat down with their breakfast, Schmidt looked over your way, his mouth twitching into a smile before his attention fell back to the screen pad in front of him that Tam was holding.

You listened in on their conversation, picking out what you could understand through the technical language the two spoke on. As a medical crewman, you weren’t familiar with all of the technology onboard, only the ones related to the medbay that you primarily worked in. You went to school for medicine, exceeding expectations in your classes, and found yourself working for military hospitals since. It came as a surprise to you when they asked if you’d like to be a part of the Cloverfield station. What business did you have going up in space?

When you told your family about the news, they were proud, no doubt, that their eldest child would be going into space to directly help with the ongoing energy crisis. It was evident how proud they were of you, but also how worried with you going into space. You lived with your parents and younger siblings your entire life, leading up until your departure for the Cloverfield station. Separating from your family was hard, and having them not understand how to work even something as simple as a video call hurt more.

Your sister, Mila, would be sixteen now - learning how to drive and preparing for her final days in school before going into higher education, if that’s what she wanted. Your brother, Joseph, would be twenty-three now, doing who knows what with his young man mind. You hoped he wasn’t getting into trouble, or knocking some girl up...although the idea of having a little niece or nephew to come home to didn’t sound all that bad.

But your parents, how were they doing? They were older, growing slower as the days went on. Were they still making it through all of this? You assumed Papa was still running the family shop downstairs, selling candies to the little children of Lapovo - whatever children were left in Lapovo that is.

Mama though, how was she doing? You couldn’t imagine how worried she was, probably baking her troubles away in the kitchen. You missed waking up to her cooking, smelling the sweetness of baklava and sarma. She always wrote you letters while you were away either at school or on the military base that was outside of Lapovo where you worked. Now that you were in space though, sending letters just didn’t happen.

Perhaps tonight you’d try and see if Joseph was online and able to chat.

Everything had been going peaceful that morning, which you enjoyed after the sleep you poorly had. That is until Volkov finally spoke up.

“Six hundred and ninety-four.”

Looking up from your bagel and to your left where he was at, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as Volkov screwed the water bottle back closed, making his way over to the table to join the rest of you.

“Six hundred and ninety-four days I’ve kept our O2, CO2, N2, hydrogen, water vapor and methane at optimal levels.”

Congrats, what did he want, a fucking cookie?

You watched as Volkov stood on the other side of the table in front of Schmidt, almost directly talking to him. There was always something going on between the two of them, and quite frankly it annoyed the living shit out of you. You felt like a mother some days, scolding Schmidt for clearly egging Volkov on - him and his damn anger issues.

It was no different today, as Volkov began his tangent on whatever it was he was about to lay into you all, Schmidt was sitting across from him, a smirk on his face.

“You know how many pressure leaks we’ve had? Not one. No microbe overgrowth, nothing. You know why?”

“This is a long speech, Volkov.” Schmidt quipped, reacting in you rolling your eyes and pushing your plate forward, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed over your chest, wondering where this would be leading to next.

“Because I disinfect the decks every seventy-two hours.” It was Acosta to interrupt Volkov this time, stating that he was actually the ones to disinfect the decks. He was right, you couldn’t remember how many days you spent helping him, on your knees scrubbing at the decks.

It seemed finally everyone was growing annoyed with whatever Volkov was getting at, Commander Kiel finally stepping in and stating that if he had a point he wanted to make, he should make it now.

“There’s one part of this station. One part that is not working. This is interesting, do you know what part that is? The Sheppard Accelerator.” Volkov continued, not seeming to be in any rush to get out what he wanted to say.

In Mandarian, Tam finally intervened, claiming that eight billion were counting on us and asked what his point was. You could agree, what was this all about?

It was then that Volkov stated that he didn’t have a problem with Tam, but with Schmidt - ‘her German boyfriend’. You couldn’t help but snicker at the comment, clearing your throat just as quick, hoping nobody heard. But someone did, and it was Schmidt, giving you a look that screamed ‘you’re not gonna find that as funny later’.

Everything began to really go downhill from there, nobody seemed to be able to get to Volkov and stop him before he said even more that he would regret. Hamilton directed him to go back to his quarters only for him to snap back that she wasn’t his mother. Commander and Mundy even jumped in, trying to calm him down, but nothing worked.

“Two years on this ship, and this man has delivered nothing,” Volkov pushed on. You hadn’t noticed it until then, but Schmidt had moved from the table and was now standing only feet away from Volkov. You felt your heart begin to pound as you watched the two men. Two men with strong anger issues at only breakfast time, something more than just a disagreement on the way to erupt.

“Volkov, enough!” Schmidt snapped, glaring forward at him. “You need to think very carefully about what you’re saying.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and you thought maybe, just maybe Volkov actually shut up for once. But that brief moment of silence was just that, and he was back to speaking, this time more quiet than before.

“We’ve both heard the reports,” Making his way closer to Schmidt, “Germany is preparing for war, Serbia taking alliances with Germany, and everyday that goes by more and more Russians are starving.” The comment made your heart stop for a moment. That was just a rumor, in all of your messages with Joseph, not once had he mentioned going to war alongside Germany to be true.

You didn’t know why you felt the sudden urge to cry, but you did. Bringing your fingers to your mouth, you began to bite down at the skin around your nails, chewing away at the flesh until you tasted the iron of your blood. Nobody outwardly spoke badly to you, besides the occasional poorly landed joke from Volkov, but you couldn’t help but feel like an outcast, wondering if people really thought you were what Volkov said you to be.

By now Volkov was in Schmidt’s face, the two men radiating their own heated anger off one another, tension filling the room, making you feel like you did in your nightmare, suffocating. You pulled at the collar of your suit, taking the zipper and unzipping the front enough to get yourself feeling less trapped.

“Maybe you’re not in a hurry to get the Shepard working. Is that it? Are you stalling us to help Germany get the upper hand? What about you? What are you doing in the med bay alone, mixing something up for us to take? To slowly kill us?”

He laughed, he actually laughed when he looked at you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. When Volkov turned back towards Schmidt, it was only half a second before Schmidt’s hand wrapped around Volkov’s throat, pushing him back before sending a punch across his face. Volkov was quick to regain his posture, grabbing at Schmidt’s own throat and shoved him back towards the corner, both men trying to pin one another against the wall.

When the scene unfolded, you stood up in shock, mouth gaped and you took a step to the side to try and do whatever you could to help, but felt someone grab your wrist. Turning, you looked down to see Tam’s hand before looking up at her, watching her shake her head ‘no’ and to just wait. And you did, it took everything in you to stick by her side, but you did wait.

Commander was the one to grab Schmidt, pinning him onto the table with his face squished onto the glass. Mundy, on the other hand, held Volkov in a choke hold, keeping him restrained while the Commander lectured the two men - one of which was still trying to get the last word in.

“Keep your mouth shut, Volkov!” The Commander finally boomed, causing the room to come to a standstill. “We have a job to do.”

The room finally fell silent, both men seeming to be relaxed enough for the Commander to think they were free to be broken from their restraints.

“Now, can you two get along for just one day without us having to pull you off of one another?” Moving back, you watched as Schmidt laid on the table for a moment, almost debating on if he wanted to go at it with Volkov again. He decided against it and finally stood up, fixing his shirt before shooting a glare towards Volkov, knocking past him and out of the common room.

You gave it a moment, smiling over at Tam when you felt her squeeze your hand. You nodded her way, squeezing her hand back before you quietly slipped away, moving down the hall quick to go and find Schmidt.

It took a while for Schmidt to really calm down, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if the Commander didn’t rush the test that you were all supposed to conduct that day. It was bad enough everyone was stressed, but having someone be stressed and pissed off just wouldn’t work. You could almost bet that the reason the outburst that morning even happened in the first place was because of the high tensions on board, especially leading up to the next test.

If this test failed, they only would have enough for three more tests. After that... well, they could kiss humanity goodbye.

It didn’t take long for you to find Schmidt, in his quarters struggling to get his suit on as the zipper seemed to be stuck. He was mumbling something in German and you couldn’t piece together what he was saying other than the occasional ‘fuck him’.

When you stepped inside his quarters, the door shutting behind you, he paused his moments, his hands on his zipper, not wanting to look at you. You took a hesitant step forward, not wanting to be on the other hand of his outburst, before stopping once you were only a foot away from him.

“If you’re here to tell me that I was an idiot, don’t bo-”

“I’m not here to call you anything, Ernst,” His cheeks grew red at the sound of his first name, his gaze glancing up at you, watching as you stared back - only instead of something angry, like he expected, your gaze was more somber, worried even, “I just came to make sure you were okay. Here, let me.”

You gently moved his hands away from the zipper of his suit, taking another step forward to pinch at his suit, tugging the fabric down to help the zipper not get bunched in the fabric. You could feel his ragged breath hit your forehead, his chest heaving as the zipper moved higher until your hand stopped above his heart.

His mouth twitched into a smile, feeling your head fall forward to rest against his chest. You felt his arms wrap around you as he pulled you in tighter for a hug, as if you could get any closer to him. His lips sat on your hairline above your temple, kissing you sweetly.

“You trust me, right?” Schmidt suddenly asked. He could feel you tense up in his arms and he pulled back, his hands resting on your arms, squeezing them, “I just, don’t want you to be wrapped up in the middle of whatever feud Volkov has with me. Tam already gets it enough and I just don’t want you to have that on yo-”

You stopped him with a kiss, smiling into it before pulling away, seeing his own smile on his face.

“I can handle myself, Schmidt...I’m not worried with what Volkov has to say,” You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling him wrap his arms around your waist, “Volkov likes to get a rise out of anyone who gives him the time of day. It’s how he keeps himself busy on board.”

The joke seemed to land well with Schmidt, earning a laugh before you felt him begin to rock you both side to side. “But what’s this about Tam being your girlfriend?” You teased.

You grinned at the sight of him rolling his eyes at you, “You don’t have to be jealous about Tam, you know that she’s-”

“Who said I was jealous?” You asked, a smirk toying on your mouth. The two of you often were fond of teasing one another, poking at one another until the other grew red - then you’d smother the other in kisses to make up for the relentless teasing. “Do I need to be jealous of her? Is that why it takes you so long to come to my room at night, are you seeing her before you see me?”

You had pulled away from him midway, now seated on his cot. He was red in the face and gaping as he tried to intervene, but you kept talking.

“I mean, wow, Tam? I didn’t realize you were the type that liked to be dominated-”

It was your turn to be cut off, giggling when he moved across the room, pinning you down against his bed. You felt your heart begin to race, your own cheeks turning red as his face sat merely inches away from you, his large hand squeezing your wrist down beside your head onto his bed.

“You really like to get under my skin, don’t you?” He asked, squeezing your waist. Behind his glasses, you noticed his pupils were blown, his eyes dark. “Do you like seeing me mad, liebling? Does it get you hot and bothered when you see me wrapping my hand around Volkov’s throat? Do you wish that was you?” You felt his hand moving up your side, groping at you until his hand wrapped lightly around your throat.

His thick German accent, mixed with the sultry tone that was dripping from his tongue, made your stomach flip, the heat between your thighs pulsating. Biting down on your lip, your free hand moved up to grip at the collar of his suit, panting slightly.

“Maybe it does.”

Your simple quip seemed to do it for him. Feeling his body shift slightly, Schmidt hummed in though, his hand moving from your neck and down, pressing into your lower stomach, pawing almost at your body before squeezing his way down to your thighs, pulling one up so he laid in between your legs.

By now you were hot and bothered. Feeling him grab at you, call you the sweet German pet name adored to call you. You felt his breath against your neck, shivering slightly before letting out a sweet moan when his lips pressed against the side of your neck, his teeth nibbling at the sensitive spot he knew of.

But you knew now wasn’t the time. Right now you two needed to be with the other crew members to initiate the next jump. The last thing you needed was for someone to walk in and catch you and Schmidt doing, well - that.

“Schmidt...моја љубав...my love, we need to get back.” You withered your hand from his wrist and to his chest, pushing him back until he was staring down at you, a disappointed frown on his face. You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head at how childish he was acting.

“Oh, Ernst - come now, I’ll make it up to you later.” You leaned forward and pecked the corner of his mouth, rolling out from under him before standing up, smoothing down your suit as you walked to the mirror by his closet, looking at yourself in the mirror as you began fixing your appearance.

It wasn’t that you two were embarrassed of each other, no you two were smitten for one another and it was truly sick. You just knew that given the dire of your work, what everyone expected out of the two of you, flaunting your attraction could be seen as distracting.

But that was just it, you two weren’t even dating. You weren’t sure how it all started, but one day the constant pinning became more - and now a year later you were where you were now. Sneaking off at night to see each other, to lay in bed and hold one another. Once this was all over, you knew that you’d return home, would Schmidt go with you?

By now Schmidt was standing behind you, obviously aware of your state of mind, deep in whatever thoughts you were having. When you caught glances with him through the mirror, you blushed and looked away. At that point, you heard him laugh and move forward to help you fix your hair, smoothing the parts that stuck up and tucking the longer pieces behind your ear.

“You look beautiful as always,” He pecked your cheek and wrapped his arms around you, holding you in an embrace, “Do you want to go out first, or me?” He asked against your ear, letting the silence sink in between you two.

You wanted to suggest why not the both of you just leave together, but you knew now wasn’t the time to let a potential argument break out, especially given how sour his mood already was - and it wasn’t even noon yet.

“Why not you?” You finally said, reaching your hands up to squeeze his, “After all, you need to be down there more than me. Acosta and I are just there for moral support.”

Turning in his embrace, you looked up at him and smiled, leaning into his touch when he held your face, “Yes, well, I’d like to think of you as my good luck charm.”

You scoffed, shaking your head at his comment, “If that were true, we’d be off this ship by now.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Schmidt leaned forward and kissed your temple, “Maybe,” He mumbled against you, kissing you once more before pulling back, beginning to make his way towards the door, “Maybe you’re my good luck charm in the sense of keeping me from really doing something stupid.”

Your mouth twitched at the comment, not into a smile, nor a frown, almost like you winced. Besides Tam, you were probably one of the only people on board that completely trusted Schmidt. His temper left him to be rather difficult to be around at times, but perhaps he was right - maybe you were his soft spot, his good luck charm as he liked to say, because never has his temper ever gotten to you.

But there was still that sinking feeling in your stomach, as he headed out of his room and down the hall to meet with the others, leaving you standing alone in his quarters.

If this test were to fail - would Schmidt truly snap? Would you finally feel his wrath?

#daniel bruehl #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #the cloverfield paradox #ernst schmidt #ernst schmidt imagine #ernst schmidt smut #ernst schmidt x reader #ernst schmidt x you #minors dni #paradox burning

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lubdubsworld · 3 years ago

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物の哀れ ~ ( the sadness of things )

( Note : This is just a personal post for myself. I’m trying to just make a record of how the fic was conceived and all that I experienced, writing this fic )

Inspiration :

So, I ran into an article on Japanese words and I was incredibly fascinated by the phrase , Mono no aware or the pathos of things : Basically the sadness of things. It was a very unusual concept to me because it could be interpreted in so many ways.

A little bit of digging around made me realize that some people linked it to the cherry blossom season where the flowers come into full bloom and add such a delicate beauty to the landscape. But of course, being seasonal, the beauty lasts for a very small time. The flowers die and their life ends .

its fleeting and passes by quite soon. So the sadness of things is basically how, the fact that something is fleeting or seasonal or about to end, should not take away from our enjoyment of things. Because yes the cherry blossoms die but people still flock to watch the cherry blossoms.

The phrase came to me at a very troubled time in my life.

My mother’s sister passed and she had raised me for a few years. I loved her deeply and she was only a couple of years older than my mother. Death was a thing that I had always viewed in abstract. The loss of a loved one was not something I had experienced on a very personal level, so it shook me.

And of course, being the person I am , I did what I always do when I get overwhelmed : Research.

I combed through reddit forums on grief, through blogs written by people who had lost loved ones , through blogs by psychotherapists, through online websites offering grief counselling and everything I could think of.

What fascinated me were two things :

1. ) The non linear nature of healing ~ the stages of grief is a myth. Nobody goes through stages of emotional turmoil and then magically becomes better.

By the way the whole stages of grief was formulated with reference to a terminally ill person coming to terms with their own death .

So, it couldn’t really be applied to people dealing with the loss of a loved one. At least not directly.

And the second, one,

2.) The very personal nature of grief ~ depending on how the relationship with the lost one is, grief varies. I realized then that only someone who had lost a loved one would know what its like. No one else could ever possibly understand the grief and pain that comes from loss.

As Heejin says in the sadness of things,” I would never know what his loss was like, because I would never know what he lost.”

It gave me a whole new perspective on how grief at the end of the day has to be a personal journey of healing , one that no one else can help you through. You need to live and hurt through every excruciating second of it.

There’s still so much I want to say about this but I’ll stop here. I’ll probably add to this as days go by. But yes, this wasn’t a fic that i wrote on a whim. It was something of a research project for me. An exploration of grief and healing.

Thank you for joining me in this journey. It was definitely one of the most fulfilling ones I’ve ever had.

The Story :~

You can read it here :

⋆⋆✵ 物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.) ✵⋆⋆

Chapter 1 ⋆ Chapter 2 ⋆ Chapter 3 ⋆ Chapter 4 ⋆ Chapter 5 ⋆

Chapter 6 ⋆ Chapter 7 ⋆ Chapter 8. ⋆ Chapter 9. Chapter 10.

Extra Drabble

Completed.

Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

ABO Dynamics.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts.

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The characters :

Oh, boy.

I could go on about these two for years.

Jungkook and Heejin.

Let me start with Jungkook :

Jungkook in the fic came to me as a very troubled young man. In the fic he starts off as a very depressed young man. The opening scene of him staring listlessly into a bowl of cereal while his friends talk to him and Heejin just watches if from my own experience with depression in 2017.

I would be numb in my body and mind with no idea what was going on around me and it seemed like everyone made all the choices for me while i just flowed along. It was a battle getting up in the morning. I had nothing to look forward to. Nothing to hope for.

So Jungkook , depressed and confused and reeling from loss is our hero.

Our main man.

The one I wanted you guys to root for.

The one I wanted you guys to see yourself in, in those moments when your pain and trauma changes you.

When you’ve always been a soft spoken, kind hearted person but suddenly the pain overwhelms you and you just want to scream the place down. You want to hurt and hurt and hurt because you’re hurting and you don’t know how to process it.

Jungkook’s journey is fraught with pain, endured and inflicted . He loses himself and his identity.

He’s a CEO, a father and a husband and he can’t be any of those things, because of his grief. So there it was the three things I wanted him to find and love and enjoy by the end of the fic :

His career doing something he loves :

Fatherhood raising the daughter he was blessed with : our lovely mina who I modeled on my own daughter ( and loved just as much )

and finally,

A Love that was unconditional and beautiful. That maybe new and different from what he had lost in his wife but just as, if not more fulfilling.

And so I stumbled into the woman who forever changed the way I perceived myself : Lee Heejin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Writing Heejin in this fic is so cathartic for me.

For years, I’ve been her. The voice of reason, the one to compromise. I would be the one every single person in the family would call , anytime anything went wrong.

Kind. Smart. She’ll know what to do. She’ll never say no. She’s always laughing. So witty. She’s so funny.

The phrases just blur in my head. I’ve been this emotional punching bag for people for so long. I had a very abusive father and honestly no one was there to listen to me talk about him. If i tried, they would always ask me what I did to make him behave that way.

So , if you think Heejin is a pushover, that she’s giving too much of herself to people who don’t deserve.....just know that sometimes, saying no and standing your ground is a privilege not everyone can afford. And because I’d been there i understood her.

That isn’t all she is though. She is also someone who knows that she doesn’t deserve to be treated that way. At no point in the fic does Heejin see Jungkook’s actions as anything other than the abuse it is and for that i will always be proud of her.

Heejin’s healing is much more complicated. She isn’t really healed at the end of the fic...because to be honest , I’m not healed and I don’t know what its like to be ....But she is on the path to it, and that’s what matters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

#the sadness of things

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animeyanderelover · 3 years ago

Note

Hii I just want ask can Kanae von Rosenvald and Shuu tsukiyama share Darling?

I was kind of waiting for this the moment I wrote Hc’s for her. And now here it is😏.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, paranoia, protective behavior, manipulation, mentioning of Shuu’s past sadism, clinginess, kidnapping, killing

Shuu and Kanae sharing a darling

🍷🌹Certainly a theatrical duo to have, both having a propensity to act like life with their darling is a drama and even the smallest insignificant looking thing will cause something terrible to happen, be that because their love pays attention to someone else or because they're upset with them. Both are just totally ready to do anything to make their darling content and happy with their life they will now live, so the s/o should be prepared for quite the pampering session for forever from now on.

🍷🌹It didn't use to be always that way, at least not until Shuu kidnapped his darling, introducing them like this to his whole family including Kanae herself. Everyone knew probably already from you, Shuu having looked lately always in such a dreamy and lovesick mood with the small smile on his face. So of course everyone was curious to meet the peron who was Shu's little lover and whilst it was a small shock to discover that you were human, not all of them were bad and you actually looked pretty shaken and scared, terrified of the man who had brought you here and all the new faces, all of them ghouls.

🍷🌹And Kanae is at first envious because she used to be in love too with Shuu, but was never able to tell him since he was a servant of the Tsukiyama family and had to pretend to be a man, all to fulfill the last wish of her deceased family. All Kanae wants is still the happiness of her master and despite being iffy of you, obvious for everyone in the household, she decides that as long as you do not harm him nor pose a threat to him, she will not go against you. How could she when Shuu always rambles so excitingly about how lovely you are, a truly endearing being. It hurts to see him, the person she admires and loves, being so utterly enamored with someone else. But she is also...happy. Happy that he has gotten over Kaneki, only focusing on you now and living his life to it's fullest again.

🍷🌹The rest of the servants is also happy and since their master loves you, they do too and protect and care for you. Human or not, all of them kind of develop a bit of Shuu's obsession and protect you fiercely and are proud for you to be part of the Tsukiyama family from now on. But there is one problem that is discussed quite often under the servants which would be Shuu's two-faced behavior. It can not be kept for very long a secret, not with Mirumo being there and curious about his future in-law. Because the moment the darling tells him what they have gone all through, this man might really just grab his son and beat his ass, finding this kind of behavior unacceptable. What was he thinking? He thought he raised him better like this.

🍷🌹Kanae has a hard time believing her master would do something like this. She does know that he used to play with humans and treat them like things to entertain him and the audience. But he would never treat the person he is clearly that deeply in love like this. This truth is hard to accept for everyone, some feeling a bit disappointed in Shuu and some, like Kanae, in pure denial. It pushes her as fast as talking with you about it, wanting to know from the victim and she feels quite dreadful when you show her some of your scars from old bite wounds and tell her what he did.

🍷🌹She cries, not only because she simply doesn't want to believe it, but also because she feels terrible for you. By now she as well has gotten infected with Shuu's obsession and for that cares greatly for you. And she tries afterwards to console you that from now on everything will be better, that Shuu didn't mean to be this way and that with his father now in the picture, he will change. She manages to believe this, knowing what kind of man Mirumo is and also being sure that Shuu is not really that kind of person you saw him as. There is still this slight sadness in her, feeling upset that Tsukiyama would treat someone as gorgeous as you so terribly and she feels angry and disappointed in herself for this.

🍷🌹But she doesn't lie either, it indeed becomes better, Mirumo keeping his son under control with an iron fist and he can be scray if he wants to be, especially since it is involving you, his future-in-law and Shuu's darling. The servants worry a bit for their master, knowing how harsh his father can be, but he is still the head of this family and everyone dearly respects him, so they can not do anything against him. Afterwards Shuu is a changed man, crying because he treated his darling so poorly and begging for forgiveness in all forms he can think off, kisses, physical affection, gifts, you name it.

🍷🌹It wouldn't be really surprising when his darling still keeps their defenses up around him, the scars on their body and mind never being able to heal fully. It discomposes Shuu in the worst ways and this is visible for all the people in the household. His father feels bad for the current shape his son is in as well, but he also is not really surprised and Shuu shouldn't either, he messed up in his past. But he has changed now, this is what the servants see and for that they help him to gain the trust of his darling back, this includes Kanae. The girl is determined to make her master happy and if she has to sacrifice her own happiness for this, then so be it. If her master is happy with you, she is as well and if her master loves you, she will as well and defend you with her life.

🍷🌹She grows over time pretty close to you, becoming the servant you are best friends with. All her negative emotions and feelings for you are gone, being replaced by something sickenly sweet and she entrusts you her secret of her being a woman, something she kept secret for a long time. It is such a relief that she was able to tell it to someone, and it is even better since that person is you. And she loves to do things for you and she gets a bit jealous if other sevants do something for you, even though she keeps quiet. From all people she shares the most similarities with Shuu and so her behavior just reminds you of him, the dramatic acting, the tantrums when you hurt yourself or are upset, the other will do give you anything you might desire and the strong jealousy.

🍷🌹She doesn't even realizes at first her romantic feelings, she thought she adored you in another sense. It isn't until she starts wondering how it would be to kiss you and hear you saying you love her and this terrible moment where she feels the smallest pang of jealousy when seeing Shuu being happy with you. It is such a major shock and she is distraught afterwards, ashamed of herself for letting this happen in the first place when you are clearly Shuu's darling. She is unhappy and it is all too obvious that something is wrong with her. Because in one moment she has a content smile on her face and in the next one she is pulling her hair and mutters to stop this, looking like she committed just a terrible crime. She did in her opinion.

🍷🌹And she can not bear to lie to Shuu or you which is why she confesses after a while of battling what to do, asking for forgiveness for letting something like this happen. She betrayed her master and you, seeing herself as a burden for your relationship. It is confusing and surprising as well as shocking for you as well as it is for Shuu. But different from you who tries to comfort her because she is really crushed because of this, he feels a bit clueless and conflicted about what to do. He cares for Kanae, he sees her as family and appreciates her for being always there for his darling. He can not hate her for this, she is family for him and he knew her since he was younger. If it would have been anyone else, he would have slaughtered them. But this is Kanae he's talking about and for that he has some sort of brain freeze, not really knowing how to react to this.

🍷🌹Shuu can not help being more dubious about her afterwards despite not wanting to be that way and neither of you three really knows what to do. So there is a certain awkwardness afterwards and once again Mirumo is the one lending a helping hand, probably because Kanae also told him about this and that she feels like she just ruined everything. It is a bit of a surprise of him as well to know that one of the servants has fallen for his son's love as well, even though you and her were so close that it should have been expected that she might gain feelings for you one day as well. He forces all three of you to talk about this because just being awkward silently will not work for too long and for the biggest part he just listens, giving a few advices here and there. This is something you should solve among yourselves.

🍷🌹For the servants it wouldn't be that surprising to find out that Kanae is in love with Shuu's darling, she looked so happy whenever being near you so it was already rumored. However, the announcement shortly after Kanae's confession leaves them a bit dumbfounded. Who wouldn't when hearing that Shuu actually allowed her to express her more romantic feelings to you? It is a bit odd, even more since she is still your servant since your status as Shuu's darling puts you still higher than her. Yet she still is free to be more romantically with you.

🍷🌹With Shuu still not being sure how to feel after all of this despite having agreed to this option and Kanae being relieved, joyful and guilty at the same time at the beginning it is still a bit tricky. Kanae is determined to still be a good servant for you, a very devoted one and knowing how she feels about you it makes you uncomfortable that she still treats you like you're higher. But if you point it out to her, she just tells you that she wants to do this since you are still her master's darling. She finds it a bit difficult to act less formal around you at the beginning, still bowing and adressing you as her 'master'. With time and help from you, Shuu and even the other servants she manages to loosen up a bit, even though she still never can fully abandon that behavior.

🍷🌹Technically Shuu has the advantage since he is Kanae's master and can demand her when he wants to spend time with you and he kind of does this from time to time since he is clingily-possessive and a major simp for you, he could be glued to your side the whole day without minding it too much. Kanae, despite being needy herself, respects that since she always keeps in mind that you were Shuu's darling at first. But Shuu is still lenient since he watches a bit out for her so he efforts that he can stay a certain amount of time away where Kanae gets her time. And she is a hopeless romantic, she takes her darling on small picnics and other sappy things, matchingly rivalved with the things Shuu does with his darling.

🍷🌹Kanae still differs because she is less paranoid than Shuu is, she doesn't really isolate her darling like Shuu does. He thinks him, his father, Kanae and all the other servants should be more than enough contact for you just as much as the manor he keeps you in. You have all you need here and he despises the idea of letting you out, mainly because even the mere thought of exposing you to other creatures besides the persons living inside this manor makes him already jealous enough. He hates it. Kanae, sharing a similar amount of jealousy, still outs your happiness in the first place and is less possessive than her master is which is why she would take her darling out. Mirumo can talk Shuu into doing so as well, but he will be a clingy man the whole time, glaring at everyone else whilst smothering you in public to make other people aware of your relationship. This is what Kanae tends to do as well.

🍷🌹Still, Kanae is less dangerous for others than Shuu is because he is trigger-happy and kills out of jealousy, very easily and will happily unleash his sadistic behavior whilst doing so. Kanae mostly only threatens people she sees as danger for you, her master, his relationship with you and also her relationship with you, even though she puts her master still above her own happiness.

🍷🌹Both of them actually push the other quite a bit, even though only indirectly and without meaning to be harmful. It is just that both are wonderfully when it comes to being dramatic and all too sappy and romantic with their darling as well as clingy. So if they catch their darling with the other one doing something cute, they get jealous. Not like they will interrupt, but it stays in their mind and the next time they see them, they latch on the s/o a bit more than normally and want to do something else with them. It is not a too terrible thing, they also prepare surprises for their darling together and absolutely team up when someone messed and/or hurt you. In that case it is not only those two, the whole household will gladly help if someone really dares to hurt you.

#yandere tokyo ghoul #yandere shuu #yandere shuu tsukiyama #yandere kanae #yandere kanae von rosewald #yandere karren #yandere karren von rosewald

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pregnant-piggy · 4 years ago

Note

could we get a dad!sirius headcannon or blurb??

All my blurbs turn into little 1.3k fics... I didn't wrote this as part of the dad!marauders series because I already have plans for a fic but I will never say no to dad!sirius. I am quite proud of it and I hope you will like it too!!

Learning how to fly

A cosy cottage stood at the end of a little road of cobblestones, surrounded by green trees and yellow flowers. On the left side of the house there was another, but this one didn’t seem to have the warmth nor the happiness that could be found in the house at the end of the street. A field of wildflowers in more colours than the rainbow lay on the other side of the cottage and trees with light green leaves and light pink blossom stood proudly on the edge. Happy birds flew around, chirping their cheerful songs, telling anyone who listened that spring had begun.

In the back of the cottage there was a yard just as green and full of bloom as the field surrounding the house. Bushes with peony roses, purple and white crocuses and wild orchids stood on the edge of a small patch of grass.

Just above the grass there were two little feet floating and a loud childish laugh sounded through the warm spring air. A little boy with raven black hair like his father and eyes like his mother, sat on a broomstick that flew just half a meter above the ground, letting the points of his feet drag over the grass. A small yell passed his lips every time he made a turn and was just in time not to collide with the bushes.

Behind the boy there was a man running. Two tattooed arms stuck from his shirt and they were held right behind the little boy’s back, making sure that he wouldn’t fall. However, the broom was faster than the dad had thought and for the past half hour he had been running after his son with his arms outstretched and sweat was starting to run down his back.

Sirius had thought it a good idea to get his son a broomstick for his third birthday, but as he was running behind the toddler he began to doubt his decision. Nevertheless were his doubts quickly thrown away as he saw the smile on his son’s face while he cruised through the garden. That smile could get anything done.

‘Dorian, watch out! Your mom will kill us if we ruin her flowers,’ Sirius warned his son when this one waited for the last second to turn around. The little boy laughed loudly and he stopped in the middle of the patch of grass. He turned around to his dad before he let himself fall off his broom.

Dorian landed softly in the grass and lay on his back with his arms wide. Sirius quickly took the broomstick before the boy would mount it again and he lay down next to his son, their heads together and bodies pointing the other way. The little kid was panting lightly and Sirius could hear the blood rushing as his ear was against Dorian’s.

For a moment Sirius closed his eyes and let the sun shine on his face, relaxing at the feeling of the warmth on his skin. It were the precious minutes like these he enjoyed the most. Before Dorian was born, Sirius’ life had been slow and relaxed. Everything in his life had settled down after he had met you and it was only after his son had come into his life that Sirius had realised how lucky he had been to have those few calm years with you.

That didn’t mean that he did not enjoy the busy life he had now. Ever since the words ‘I am pregnant’ had fallen from your lips Sirius’ life had taken a hundred-eighty degree turn. From that moment on everything that had seemed important before had been pushed to the back. Suddenly Sirius had been responsible for a life that was not his own.

‘You see that cloud, Dor?’ Sirius pointed at one of the clouds that were floating over their heads. ‘It looks like a horse.’

‘With a knight on it!’ Dorian exclaimed and he giggled softly. ‘And that one looks like a dragon!’

As the two clouds got closer to each other, Dorian held his breath until the white shapes collided and melted together. Dorian made the sounds of their battle and Sirius laughed loudly. He turned his head to look at his son and a smile formed on his lips as he saw how enthusiastic the little boy was. Dorian’s eyes glittered in the light of the sun and his cheeks shone from the thin layer of sweat that had formed while playing.

While Dorian babbled on about the knight and the monster, the door of the house opened and you stepped out into the garden with two glasses of lemonade in your hands. Sirius brushed his hands through his son’s black curls and the Dorian stopped talking and looked up. There was a question mark in his eyes but Sirius just got up and pulled the boy up too.

‘Mommy!’ Dorian cheered when he saw you standing at the table and he ran towards you. ‘Dad learned me how to fly!’

‘He did? Why don’t you drink some and then show me?’ you said and you gave Dorian a glass. The other glass went to Sirius and he gladly accepted the cold liquid in his body.

Dorian was finished before him and he handed his glass back to you before he ran off to get his broom. You placed the glass on the table and wrapped one arm around Sirius’ waist. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head and together you watched as your son tried to mount his little broomstick.

After a few minutes of struggling Dorian gave up and looked up at his parents. He shot Sirius a helpless look and his dad let go of you before helping Dorian. Still holding the broom with one hand, Sirius bent forward to Dorian and whispered, ‘Let’s show mommy what you can do.’

He gave Dorian a little push and the boy spurted off into the garden. He giggled loudly as he turned and twisted above the grass. Sirius stood in the middle of the grass and he smiled at you as you watched your son anxiously, afraid he would hurt himself. When you looked at Sirius, you rolled your eyes at him, knowing that he had sensed your worries.

After a few rounds, Dorian let himself fall off the broom onto the grass. He jumped up again and ran into your arms, while you cheered him on. ‘Good job, sweetie! You were amazing!’

Dorian smiled giddily and placed a wet kiss on your forehead. ‘Thank you, mommy. Dad’s gonna learn me how to land tomorrow!’

‘Is he? I thought your dad had an appointment tomorrow?’ you said and you turned to look at Sirius.

‘I’ll figure something,’ he shrugged. ‘Can’t let my boy wait!’

Dorian turned in your arms and opened his little ones to pull Sirius into the hug. He wrapped his arms around you and Dorian and kissed you shortly. Dorian pulled a face and pushed you apart.

‘Ew!’ he said and you laughed. Sirius let go of you and took Dorian’s face between his hands, peppering his son’s face with kisses until this one was wriggling so much you could barely hold him anymore.

‘That’s enough,’ you chuckled and put Dorian back on the ground. You brushed his hand through his hair before he ran off to play with the broom again. Wrapping your arms around Sirius you sighed as you looked at the boy that was growing so fast. Sirius seemed to understand your sigh because he buried his head in your neck and nodded.

‘He’s growing too fast,’ he muttered and you felt his hot breath on your skin. ‘Soon he’ll be our little Dorian no more.’

‘If he is anything like you, he’ll always be our little Dorian,’ you smiled and pressed a kiss on Sirius’ head. ‘You are still my little Sirius.’

‘I’m not little!’ Sirius whined into your shoulder and you chuckled, stroking his back.

‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, love.’

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black imagine #dad!sirius #dad!sirius black #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders imagine #harry potter #harry potter x reader

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samingtonwilson · 5 years ago

Text

Mac and Cheese

Summary: Bucky takes the last box of frozen mac and cheese, takes your phone, and makes you fall in love with him. The audacity of that man.

Prompt: “This has been a very bad week and you just grabbed the last box of my favorite comfort food at the supermarket”

Pairing: bucky x reader

a/n: i wrote this and was fully done formatting it and everything, like, 6 months ago. i didn’t post it because it’s approx. 82% nonsense but i figured why not post it now when it’s still 82% nonsense but im struggling to finish everything else. so taal, long time vegan, writes a story about mac and cheese and, listen, idk what this fic is either. can i write a fic without adding sam to it? no.

Mac and cheese. That’s all you want. Disgusting, frozen, usually-quite-mushy-if-not-microwaved-correctly mac and fucking cheese.

The kind with the layer of cheese on top. The kind with that real elbow pasta, not rotini or penne or seashell pasta— real macaroni. The kind you try to only eat one serving size of before you eat everything in the package. The kind you always gravitate to when your eyes are stained red, swollen, and too proud to be anything other than dry.

You take the subway. You switch lines. You endure the smell of the F train during rush hour when you aren’t sure where your thigh ends and the thigh of the woman sitting beside you begins. All for that one Trader Joe’s, out of many, in Brooklyn the hipsters abandon before six because the coffee shop next door closes at five.

Your feet ache in your boots and you’re pretty sure a rock has somehow lodged itself between your toes, it’s starting to rain and you have no umbrella, you don’t think your throat has ever felt so parched.

But you tuck your phone into your back pocket and march into that store with the hideous overhead lighting that makes your skin look like it hasn’t seen a bottle of toner in days like you’re Hades, the box of mac and cheese is Persephone, and Trader Joe’s is Mount Olympus.

You aren’t planning on smiling at anyone in greeting. You aren’t planning on making eye contact with anyone. You aren’t even planning on waiting politely behind whoever is inevitably idly standing in front of the pasta section of the frozen aisle— you’re going to say, “Excuse me.” Like the badass, New Yorker, on-the-verge-of-tears bitch you are and you’re going to toss that mac and cheese into your basket like you’re Steph Curry at the NBA Finals.

Lines are long when you walk in, cashiers bored-looking and tired. The produce section is a jungle of stay at home fathers and people who make their own pressed juice, the salad display a mess of college students trying to eat healthy.

Your eyes accidentally meet those of a toddler who is slyly plucking a grape from a bag he had no intention of spending his allowance on and you smile.

You hold your basket like a designer handbag and dilly-dally only for a moment to pick up some yogurt for breakfast tomorrow.

And some inauthentic babka because there’s no way in hell you’re going to endure Zabar’s after this.

And a package of olive oil popcorn, a bottle of three dollar chardonnay, and string cheese.

But that’s it. Self-control.

You feel the chill of the frozen aisle before you step into it. You feel the magnetic pull of that box with only one step in its direction. You stop for just a second to grab the mini mango and cream pops.

You almost roll your eyes to yourself when you see that someone is indeed standing right in front of the frozen selection of pasta. He’s staring at two boxes— a red one in his gloved left hand and the one in his right hand green.

As you grow closer you notice behind his curtain of dark hair that his eyebrows are knit together and he’s frowning at a decision he must be forcing himself to make.

Sophie’s Choice, but involving mediocre excuses for Italian food and no Nazis— hopefully. Because who really knows these days?

He wears a forest green hoodie under a black leather jacket, black jeans tight around thick thighs. Boots, too. You think you might swoon.

And you wait behind him. You tap your foot, shift your weight, and chew on your bottom lip. You don’t say anything.

He looks over his shoulder when you curse under your breath and set the heavy basket at your feet. He’s apologetic— and handsome— by the looks of it, blue eyes slightly widened and lips downturned. “Shit,” he says as he takes a few steps to the right. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. You kick your basket with the toe of your boot until it lightly smacks against the bottom of the freezer. “No problem. It’s a big decision.”

His eyes lift from the boxes and he smiles. “Biggest one I’ve gotten to make in a while.”

Setting your hands atop the cold metal railing, you stare down into the freezer. You see farfalle with roasted tomatoes, rigatoni with pesto, ricotta and spinach ravioli, roasted vegetable lasagna, cauliflower gnocchi, chicken parm, and… an empty space.

You tilt your head.

You lean away and crouch to read the description cards, looking for the bubble letters to tell you where on Earth your saving grace is. When you spot the card, you stand again. The indicated space is empty, your heart is empty, your will to live is—

A box of organic pesto tortellini is tossed back into the freezer and you look up. Your eyes might lose their prideful dryness at any moment, even in public next to that handsome stranger with the nice jacket and,

the box of mac and cheese.

You gasp audibly and leap backwards. You point at the box in his left hand.

With an expression of panic, he holds his hands— and the box— up in innocence. “It’s okay. I’m not—”

“What the fuck is that?” you shout to gain the attention of customers you don’t even perceive, waggling your finger at the box. Your wide-eyed stare, and bared teeth, and messy hair must be terrifying. You hope they are.

He looks down at his hand. An eyebrow lifts. And, confusedly, he asks, “The box?”

“Yes, the fucking box!”

“It’s mac and—” he meets your gaze again. You’re wearing your anger like armor. But you aren’t scared. Bucky thinks he might never have felt such relief at a woman’s anger. “It’s mac and cheese.”

You shake your head. Wildly. Your neck hurts. “It’s the last box of mac and cheese!”

He glances at the box, then back at you. He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “They might have some in the back—”

You shake your head again. A hint of devastation cracks your voice as you say, “It’s Monday night. Trader Joe’s restocks Tuesday night. This is usually all they have left.”

“I—” He pauses. “Is this shit really that good—”

“No, it’s not but that’s not the point!” you’re shouting again. And crying. Oh, God, you’re crying. In public. “The point is my building is going co-op!”

He tilts his head. “Your building is—”

“And I have to buy my apartment if I want to keep it! And they don’t give raises at my job to women unless they’re willing to suck something I won’t say in front of that kid right there,” you nod toward a little girl in a pink raincoat with her pin straight black hair in pigtails who stares at you in bewilderment. You sniffle. “So I quit. And I’m proud of myself for it. Because I have integrity, and I have self-respect, and I have no gag reflex, so the rejection should kill my boss dead.”

He cracks a small smile when you let out a short, watery, pathetic laugh. Easily, he holds the box out to you. “I hope your boss is dead, too.”

You laugh again and don’t hesitate before taking the box. You wipe your cheeks with your sleeve. “Thank you. You’re nice.”

“Not a popular opinion, but one I’ll certainly take.” He’s smiling and it’s warm. “Sorry— about all that.”

“You’re apologizing to me? I just screamed at you in the Trader Joe’s freezer aisle over mac and cheese.”

He shakes his head and picks up his own basket when you grab yours. “Your building’s going co-op and your boss deserves to burn in hell. You should get all the mac and cheese you want.”

You reach into the freezer for that green box of tortellini he’d thrown in, tossing it into his basket with a smile. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “Still. I’m sorry for yelling and I hope the tortellini doesn’t suck too bad.”

“It’s frozen pasta. My expectations are low.”

You hum a laugh and walk past him to the crowded lines at the registers. “As they should be.”

It’s when you’re lost in the sea of customers and Bucky is deciding between frozen palak paneer and frozen lamb vindaloo with basmati rice that he feels a tug at the hem of his jacket.

He looks away from the green and orange boxes, lowering his gaze to meet curious almond-shaped eyes beneath blunt black bangs. He smiles and she returns it. “Yes?”

She reveals her right hand, which she had hidden behind her pink raincoat, and holds a phone up to Bucky as far as her arm will let her.

“Is that your phone?”

She shakes her head and giggles. Loud, happy, and squeaky. “Yelling lady dropped her phone.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together until a woman, much closer to his height, steps behind the little girl. She takes the phone the girl holds out and offers it to Bucky when he straightens his posture. Her smile looks like the little girl’s. “We figured you would have a good chance at getting it back to her.”

He takes the phone and nods his thanks. Pressing the power button reveals a picture of you and a dog, a large, fluffy dog with its pink tongue hanging low. You’re smiling brightly and, oddly, it seems like the dog is, too.

—

“So you just took her phone? Didn’t even ask an employee to keep it there in case she came back for it?”

Bucky, watching the tray of pasta rotate in the microwave, scowls. “I would’ve if I’d known that was an option. And stop eating my fuckin’ chips.”

Sam tosses back another handful of kettle-cooked barbecue potato chips in defiance so the obnoxious crunching echoes through the kitchen. He smiles sarcastically when Bucky snatches the bag and rolls it up. Half is already gone. “You come up with how you’re gonna get it back to her?”

“Thinkin’ about asking Pepper to post a picture of it like it’s a missing child to that ‘Tweeter’ nonsense,” Bucky replies dryly. He’s glaring at Sam as he leans his hip against the counter. “You and I both know I haven’t come up with shit.”

Sam snorts and is smiling in amusement, deep brown eyes alight. Bucky hates the sight. “Tweeter. You’re so fuckin’ old.”

It’s been hours since Bucky took the phone from who he learned is little Vivienne and her mother, and he is no closer to getting it back to you.

He’d tried looking for you at the store but there were too many people for a Trader Joe’s that Yelp claimed was the least busy in New York for that to yield results. So he returned to the Tower. He thought about asking Tony to look into the doohickey but figured an invasion of privacy should be the last resort.

He pulls the tray from the microwave with nimble vibranium fingers and sniffs the pasta before setting it down on the counter. He removes a bowl from one of the cabinets and dumps the steaming pasta in it, a sprinkle of freshly grated parmesan from a tub he’d bought— also at Trader Joe’s— a finishing touch.

“She’s cute,” Sam says when the screen lights up with an incoming text notification.

Bucky spins his fork between his fingers as he walks around the counter to sit on the barstool beside Sam’s. He glances at the phone as well. “Very cute,” he agrees. “She had a shitty day. Something about her apartment goin’ co-op. Whatever the hell that means.”

Sam frowns. “Means she’s gotta buy the place. And with New York real estate prices right now,” he shakes his head with a sigh. “She better have a well-paying job.”

“Quit that today, too.” Bucky takes a bite of the pasta and hisses as it burns his tongue. “Boss is a creep that asked for some action in exchange for a raise.”

“Jesus. Poor girl.”

The tortellini isn’t great. It’s a little bland, a bit too dry, and there isn’t enough filling— but it’s better than Bucky had expected. He takes another bite. “Yeah. And I took the last box of mac and cheese. Which is what she went to the store for.”

“I’m surprised your head wasn’t chopped off.”

Bucky smiles. “She yelled— a lot. Was crying, too, ‘til she said something and made herself laugh.”

Sam then begins teasing Bucky juvenilely for having a crush until both men are laughing and shoving one another to see who falls off their stool first, Sam only relenting when Bucky hands the potato chips to him again as a peace offering.

The bowl is in the sink and the chips are down to just crumbs when a loud ringtone— an instrumental version of an R&B song Bucky recognizes from Sam’s many plays of the original— shocks the two of them.

It’s from an unknown number and Bucky is unsure if he should pick up until Sam swipes answer and puts the call on speakerphone. “Hello?”

A sigh. Bucky doesn’t know if it’s one of relief or frustration. “I’m hoping whoever this is found my phone and didn’t steal it.”

Sam shoves Bucky’s shoulder with a toothy grin and Bucky rolls his eyes. “The little girl you almost traumatized in the freezer aisle found it and gave it to me.”

Another sigh— the relief in this one is obvious— and you’re laughing. “It’s you— tortellini dude. Must’ve fallen when I crouched down.”

“Seems like it, yeah.”

“So are you gonna ask for my address or do I have to schlep over to Avengers Tower?”

Bucky and Sam exchange a look. “Avengers Tower?”

“You weren’t exactly in disguise— I realized who you are the minute I left the store. Would’ve recognized you right away but I was in my own head and you aren’t my favorite Avenger.”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah? And who is?”

“Falcon.”

Immediately, the phone is taken from Bucky’s hand. “Hi, baby, you’ve got Falcon.”

A gasp, a pause, then you laugh. Audibly stunned laughter. “You guys actually hang out with each other? That’s cute.”

Before Sam can reply, Bucky flicks his forehead— in reply to which Sam elbows Bucky’s ribs— and takes the phone back. “I can bring your phone to you whenever you’re free.”

“Awesome. I’m unemployed now so any time tomorrow is fine.”

You tell him your address before hanging up and he wishes you a good night. Your laughter is the last thing he hears before three beeps signify the end of the call.

—

Bucky takes the subway. He switches lines to the F train. He tries not to mind the overpowering smell of stale B.O. and deli meat leftover from rush hour, the skittering steps of a rat across the floor in the adjacent empty car. He ignores those who stare at him intensely enough to burn the fabric right off his skin. All for that one apartment in SoHo.

He thinks the gash below his ribs might still be leaking as the warm, moist subway station air blows past him. He can feel that cluster of bruises above his knee— the one from the pipe the hostile operative had ripped off the rickety walls of a nearly destroyed Hydra base— every time he takes a step, more so as he climbs the stairs.

He knows he must be quite a sight with combat boots and tac pants worn and dusty, a simple bomber jacket thrown over a ripped, sliced, stained compression tank. His mind is blank, his eyes shadowy, the ghost of something terrible lurking behind blue and grey.

Posture stiff and muscles cold, steps crisp despite the ache, he follows the familiar path and manages to form the thought of turning around. Not bringing this all to a threshold— or, more accurately, a windowsill— he’s only crossed three or four times. He’s too weak, though.

It takes one rap of his knuckles against the third-story window for a lamp to flicker on, gauzy drapes pushed aside. You smile as he lifts the window open, stepping aside as he enters the apartment with careful grace. He feels less guilty when he sees that your bed is still made and your hair isn’t the tangled mess it usually is when he bursts in at a late hour.

“I have a door.”

“Okay, show-off.”

It’s when he steps into the light of the standing lamp in the room’s corner that your quiet laughter gives way to a soft gasp.

He doesn’t like the widening of your eyes or the way you gently lift the right side of his jacket, fingers light against the torn fabric. But you laugh again, and it shakes in nervousness. “You know I’m not a doctor, right? Or a nurse? Or even a pharmacist with high self-efficacy?”

He nods and, despite himself, there’s a smile pulling at a corner of his lips. His eyes brighten a little. “It’ll heal itself.”

“Confidence. I like that in a burglar.”

Before he can take a step further into your bedroom, you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and point at his feet. “Boots.”

He kicks them off with a sigh and a groan when the shifting of his knee sends a tremor up his leg. His jacket is tossed aside as well, and he catches the black t-shirt you throw to him. You’d washed it, folded it, and put it in your closet.

Just a little more brightness. “You owe me mac and cheese.”

“Oh, I owe you mac and cheese? We’re really holding onto shit from four months ago?”

He nods again and pulls his tank off, withholding a wince.

Eyebrow raised, you cross your arms over your chest. You’re giving him a narrow look but, because you’re clearly struggling against a smile, it’s one of his favorites of the expressions you’ve ever offered him.

You give him a towel next— pastel blue. “Shower and then we’ll see about me owing you something.”

He wants to say thank you, do more than smile.

But he knows if he so much as opens his mouth while you’re looking at him the way you are, he’ll tell you he’s fallen in love with you over the last four months, that maybe he’s been in love since you screamed at him in the freezer section of Trade Joe’s.

He’ll go to say thank you, but the words of a Byron poem he’d learned to impress a girl in his English class more than eighty years ago will come pouring out or he’ll simply kiss you like he wishes he could on the nights he can’t sleep or during the missions he can just barely endure.

He’ll go to say thank you, and then tell you with no clarity whatsoever that you’re what he finds comfort in when he’s had a hard day. That the disgusting, mushy, nothing-compared-to-fresh mac and cheese is just an excuse.

But he just smiles. And nods. And takes a shower.

His hair is still wet as he stands across from you at the kitchen counter. There’s a bowl of steaming pasta between you, a spoon in his hand and a fork in yours. “You’re dripping onto the counter.”

With a cocking of his eyebrow, he shakes his head and you sputter a laugh, shoving his shoulder. “Bucky!”

He laughs then, fully and happily, as he reaches over to wipe the drops from your cheeks and forehead. You only smile back, the gleaming of your eyes making him feel warm all over.

“This shit’s terrible, by the way,” he says after a minute of staring.

You shrug a shoulder. “Told you.”

“And you fought me for it. Publicly.”

You shrug again and laugh. You lean your elbows atop the counter to match his relaxed posture, dragging a noodle through a particularly large puddle of melted cheese.

Looking up, your nose nearly bumps Bucky’s and you hope he doesn’t hear your breath stall. You try to smile. “Makes me feel better when I need to fill that hole in my heart.”

“With cholesterol?” he jokes.

“Yes. It’s excellent. It’s like spackle.” As he laughs and you roll your eyes, you push off the counter to stand straight. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah?”

You hum. “I’m seeing an apartment I want tomorrow and need the rent lowered. And you’re the Winter Soldier.”

He considers that for a moment and you burst into laughter just as his eyes narrow into a fond glare. “You want me to scare them into lowering the rent?”

“Don’t think of it as you scaring them,” you begin, rounding the counter to stand next to him, hip leant against the marble, “think of it as you being an amazing friend and helping me.” A moment later you add, “By scaring them.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. He glances at the bowl to avoid the risk of staring at you for too long. “Fine.”

You grin. “You really take no convincing.”

A snort and he meets your gaze. “Only when it comes to you. I’m afraid you’ll start crying again.”

“So I could ask you for anything and you’d probably say yes?”

He shrugs a bit, then nods. Who is he kidding? You could ask for his right arm and he’d give it to you.

“Okay. Go on a date with me then.”

There’s a pause— in the conversation, in his chest. “A what?”

“A date. It’s like dinner, or coffee, or a movie, or something.” You grin when he takes half a step in your direction and his hands grip onto the counter at either side of you. “It’s this thing people do when they like each other.”

Something much more than like is in the sparkling of your eyes and the tilt of your head. Something that might match exactly what’s in his eyes whenever he’s around you. His insides burn at the thought.

“I know what a date is.”

“They had those back in your day?”

He nods and leans forward. “Not from the Stone Ages.”

Your lips brush lightly against his, hand set on his chest to feel the rapid beating beneath. You smile and he thinks he might melt. “Could’ve fooled me with that hair.”

Laughing, he presses his lips to yours a little harder.

—

Apartment littered with unpacked boxes, misplaced books, and askew furniture, you sit on top of the counter where Bucky works. He’s twirling a knife through his metal fingers, arranging sprigs of chives on the cutting board with the flesh ones.

He smiles when he catches you staring at the pan cooling on the stove. “S’not done yet.”

You sigh. Loudly, heavily. “You took it out of the oven. That means it’s done.”

“It needs to cool for a few minutes or you’ll burn off your taste buds. You want to burn off your taste buds?”

“You want to burn off your taste buds?” you repeat in a high-pitched, taunting voice. You’re scowling and, somehow, look to be on the verge of snatching the knife from him to stab it through his chest. “Maybe I do.”

Less than a minute later, you groan and add, “I don’t care how good you are in bed. I’m about ten seconds from dumping you.”

Swiftly, he chops the chives and turns around to sprinkle a bit into the baking dish. “You know, most people would say thank you.”

“Most people don’t have to wait an hour while their boyfriend attempts to make mac and cheese when there’s a perfectly good box in the freezer that would take four minutes.”

“It’s worth it.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t know if it’s worth it.

He’d asked Sam for a recipe and did his best to follow it despite the autocorrect which had changed “gruyere” to “grape year.” But he trusts it since Sam generally knows what he’s doing in the kitchen. Unlike Steve who had continuously attempted to chime in with useless suggestions such as, “Maybe don’t add the paprika.”

“Just trust me,” he urges as if replying to the growling of your stomach which has interrupted his search for the plates he could’ve sworn he’d unpacked. He’s crouched and searching the lower cabinets as he adds, “You’ll fall in love with me after you try it.”

“Who says I haven’t already?”

He stops searching.

He peeks his head above the edge of the counter and, his eyes wide, he sees you pulling two plates from a box placed on the small nook table. Your smile is small and a bit sheepish— the latter something he’d never seen from you.

“You never took them out,” you tell him, the clatter of ceramic on the wooden surface loud when you set the plates down. As you approach and he stands to his full height, you sigh and roll your eyes at the look he gives you. “Yes, I love you. It can’t be that shocking.”

“It isn’t.”

“Someone should tell your face that.”

Chuckling over the heavy thumps in his chest, he leans forward to kiss you but pauses just to say, “I love you, too, by the way.”

When an empty dish sits between the two of you, Bucky’s stomach warm and full of over three-quarters of it, you stand from the table and walk to the freezer.

Shooting a smile over your shoulder, you grab the familiar red box and toss it into the stainless steel trash can. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “I’m never eating that shit again.”

#this reader is a human disaster #dkjfgdkjgj #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff

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onlyhereforangst · 4 years ago

Text

WWR

I’m baaaaack bitches 😘 let’s be honest the last two episodes were shit & you wouldn’t have wanted that wwr anyways. SO let’s get into the ✨angst✨ that was Nick’s episode under the cut…

Oh but before I start, why yes, yes I called this theory too. Me and this writer share a goddamn brain or something because I’ve literally always guessed big plot points of his episodes correctly 😅

Ok Nick’s dad leaving like that, with poor bby Nick all sweet asking if he promises to bring him back his favorite pastry and him hesitating before he’s going to promise- NO.

*picture Michael Scott gif here*

It’s not faaaaaair, little Nick deserved so much better- so MUCH better. And it’s only going to get worse as the episode goes on, so strap in for the walk down emo lane.

Quick pit stop for cute banter because duh. Nick giving the real estate agent Ellie’s number cracks me up because bro you want this house with her don’t you 👀 you still keep her business cards on you when you could have just as easily gotten your own (or McGee’s) by this point 👀 you just want to maaaaarry her and move iiiiiiin with her I knooooooow it 👀 Ellie’s reaction the split second we see also has me dying because she’s like ha ha this is funny you had to talk to real estate agent you drew the short straw hey wait what the fu— you did not! Before McGee interrupts any protest she can hurl back Nick’s way and that’s just gold right there. Pure middle school flirting as per usual for them and I love it.

Oooooooh Kasie’s lab scene. The growth in this one. Nick worried his family and by extension him, is going to get implicated for murder (or is guilty) even though it sounds outrageous to him, he’s got PTSD from Mona Lisa (and who wouldn’t tbh). But Ellie immediately, like IMMEDIATELY goes and defends him. Is like uh-uh don’t even GO there, it’s not a possibility its just person of interest I don’t care if it’s literal hair at the scene of a man stabbed brutally seven times, he’s not a murderer. The grooooooowth Ellie, I’m so proud of you 🥺 we went from using that logical head to realizing it’s ok to listen to your heart and wade into situations with empathy (especially for the boy you ~*looOOoOoOve*~) And then Nick talking about his dad being dead and a deadbeat and walking out when he was 5, he looks at Ellie almost the entire time, only barely glancing over at McGee like he needs to have that connection with her, she grounds him when this is suddenly very jarring having a relative by semi-involved in a murder. And Ellie isn’t the slightest bit shocked when Nick dumps this news so clearly she’s heard it and by her look, not only has she heard this, but she does not like the man for what he did to Nick. She looks pissed his father hurt Nick like that because how dare any one hurt her man 😤

And oh here it is, we back on emo lane. Nick recognizing and seeing his dad for the first time in 30 years. It’s gonna hit like a 🎵freeeeeight traaaain🎵 at first he can’t even believe its him, he blinks like a thousand times because *surely* his eyes are deceiving him and then his dad goes and uses his nickname, his nickname people the CRUELTY. YOU DON’T GET TO JUST SHOW UP THIRTY YEARS LATER AND CALL HIM BY HIS CUTE LITTLE NICKNAME YOU GAVE HIM AS A CHILD. YOU DON’T MIGUEL. NOT IN THIS GD HOUSE. Ok and now nick is in pure shock because he just got confirmation that his dad is not only *not* dead, but he’s here in front of him, in DC no less, possibly a murderer no less. AND he’s finding this out by chasing him down *not* by Miguel reaching out to him while in DC. The shock and confusion and hurt my poor baby.

And when that shock wears off and it’s just barely contained rage, my heart 🥺 so of course Ellie goes in there with him and nows she needs to immediately be the support she knows he needs but he won’t admit to needing. Nick tries to deflect with a joke at first but oh honey it’s no use. But quick comedic relief for us on emo lane “sit down, no I don’t like sitting” AHAHAHA like father like son I’m cackling because the look Ellie and nick share and nick’s eyes warn her like don’t you dare fucking say it and she’s like yep yep nope I wasn’t gonna say a damn thing I’ll just look down and try to contain my laughter because now is NOT the time. But see I’m on my couch and I can laugh all I damn well please at this scenario that was gold from the writers thank you. On a more serious level this probably hurt nick even more seeing that he’s even got the smallest something similar to his dad. He’s probably desperate to be the exact opposite, he doesn’t want to even consider being capable of what his father was capable so this - while seemingly insignificant - thing like not wanting to sit in a chair will hit deep for him without him realizing it. If something so trivial is the exact same, wouldn’t something much much heavier like commitment to relationships and family be the exact same? Wouldn’t it?? And good god poor nick for going through that mental anguish, on emo rollercoaster lane. Because it just gets better when Miguel’s excuse for being in DC is “visiting family” like call your BULLSHIT Miguel you certainly ain’t visiting family and Nick now knows oh he lies too, great, another win for the Torres blood, fan-fucking-tastic.

Quick peek at viewing room and we don’t believe in personal space, Ellie wants to be as close as possible to her hurting bby 🥺

But back to the emo stuff - Miguel just lying off his ass and Nick fed up with his father’s games because it’s truly just twisting that knife in his back that’s been stuck there for 30 years deeper and deeper. AND THEN Miguel has the audacity to yell out for “Nico” like bitch you do NOT get to call him that either. You walked out on him and never came back gtfo. And Ellie is trying so hard to keep it together but man she wants to do one of two things if not both at the same time - wrap Nick up in her arms and shield him from this deadbeat and/or punch this man through the glass to cause just a fraction of the hurt he caused Nick. But instead she just has to keep her cool to be the supportive girlfriend she is and ask nick what he thinks and then. Then. “He’s lying…because his lips are moving”

Well FUCK. Murder me right now. The anguuuuuuuish. Poor five year old Nick in a 35 year old Nick’s body. That little boy who was promised a big hojaldre in the morning from the next town over is right there. Right there to witness the father he thought he had, hasn’t changed. One of the only memories Nick probably has of his father is him leaving. Him lying and leaving. And what does he do when he finally shows up again?

HE LIES AND LEAVES. HE FUCKING LIES AND LEAVES. (I know I’m getting ahead and technically at this point we don’t know he’ll leave again but whatever sue me because this shit is too much.)

Side note: Ellie talking about a “conflict of interest” that Nick didn’t interrogate his father is laughable considering she should have never interrogated Xavier but ok.

Ooooo lets see some pissed off Nick. Let it loose baby, you deserve this. And I know I wrote about this in the tags somewhere but can we take a second to appreciate McGee’s growth??? Like bro went from straight up denial to acceptance and giving Ellie the look of “go talk to your boyfriend ok we need to make sure he’s alright and we both know your support is going to go a lot further than my support” and Ellie wordlessly kNOWS EXACTLY WHAT HE’S SAYING. She’s like yeah, of course I’ll go help my man why wouldn’t I.

I don’t know why but Ellie asking Nick if he’s talked to his “mom and sister” is just so 🥰 I can’t explain this one to you but I love this dialogue ok. Actually I love this whole ensuing conversation. Nick still is bitter (he has every gd right to be), Ellie playing the supportive girlfriend but *tiiiiiniest* bit of devil’s advocate with saying he might be innocent. Once again, so much growth because honestly she knows what it’ll do to Nick if his dad actually *is* a murderer. Like can we for a second imagine if his dad actually was guilty, right? Nick already saw he was like his dad in trivial things like not wanting to sit in chairs. Nick has already had serious, serious doubts to what he’s capable of aka worried he could, if the right buttons were pushed, be a murderer on multiple occasions. Ellie has been there with him for all of that, she knows how low his confidence is when it comes to his perceived “goodness” and she knows just how much it would break him if he learned his direct bloodline IS capable of murder. She knows how he’d spiral if that was true and so she’s gripping to any small possibility his dad is innocent. But nick, oh poor Nick my heart- he’s done. He opens up to Ellie without literally any prodding. He’s baring his long buried soul to her, that troubled, broken childhood that he surely keeps locked away in fear of letting anyone see a weakness. He bares it without question because he feels so safe in her presence he can let her in to see his deepest shame and by extension his deepest worry 🥺🥺🥺 and poor Ellie, she’s a little lost at how to go about helping him because she does have a good relationship with her dad, so yes all she has here for him is saying his father was guilty of a crap dad but it’s because she’s still trying to convince them both he has to be good. He has to be good for Nick’s sake. Buuuuuuut it doesn’t really work does it, because oh shit pissed the fuck off Nick is a site to behold isn’t it 🥵 kicking down doors once again and his smart “still think he’s innocent” oooooooo damn. Ellie’s face says it all- she’s trying so hard to hold out hope for Miguel, so hard. She needs him to be innocent she’s willing to speak it into existence a thousand times but her face is like fuck this is going to kill him and I can’t do a damn thing about it other than just watch.

More pissed off Nick 🥵 but when you think about it is so so painful, all I can picture is that little 5 year old boy who woke up the next morning waiting, waiting, and waiting. Staring out the window at each car that slows down but ultimately passes. Tugging on his Mami’s shirt asking for the hundredth time when papi is coming back from the bakery with his hojaldre, oblivious to the tears that are slowly sliding down her cheek because she still can’t find the words to tell him what she knows deep down. That little boy who when the sun starts to set the confusion sets in with it. Why hasn’t my papi come back yet? Where is he? He promised. The sadness and sense of rejection that starts to fill his little heart when his mami tucks him and his sister into bed and he asks one final time where papi is and will he say goodnight to them and his Mami has to say she’s not sure when he’s coming home and quietly to the side, “if he’s coming home.” The little boy who weeks later has finally abandoned watching out the window every, single morning. The little boy who had his heart ripped out and thrown to the side of the road when he realized his papi didn’t go to the bakery and instead he was thrown out by his father like a day-old hojaldre. So yeah pissed Nick is fine af but good god the angst underneath is suffocating. Because Nick in this moment doesn’t know the *true* reason Miguel left. He knows what he lived and what he lived is a piece of shit. Nick’s response to “is that what you think of me” is amicable because OOF he could’ve gone the fuck off right there and told him what he really thought of him but he stuck with only a slight dig. TO WHICH MIGUEL. FUCK YOU MIGUEL. IT HASN’T HURT YOU MUCH. FUCK YOU MIGUEL. FUCK YOU. SOUNDS LIKE YOU WERE A SHIT DAD SO YEAH PROBABLY A GOOD THING YOU LEFT. THANK HIM NICK WITH YOUR FISTS BECAUSE HE’S A LITTLE SHIT. FUCK YOU MIGUEL. TOUGHENED HIM UP SO MUCH HE SHUTS EVERYONE OUT. YEAH FUCK YOU.

And then man here is the point where it all just muddies in Nick’s mind. The poor dude. He knows this line of work, hell he was undercover for almost a decade. He understands how that leaves almost no room for a family. He gets it, so deep deep deep down a tiny part of him realizes why Miguel likely *thought* it was ok to ditch his family. But for thirty years he’s felt abandoned- no reasoning can change that.

“It’s good to know he was making a nice living while my family was starving” fucking GET HIM NICK. Damn I wish Miguel had been in the room for that. He deserved to hear that one. Ruthless.

I do not know how I missed this the first time around but holy shit Nick asked to be removed from the case. Nicholas Torres- a man who does not back down. A man who bullied his way into finishing his first ever case with this team that he was arguably way too close to that one too. This is how much pain Miguel brings him. A man who does not quit, not in his vocabulary - was so pissed at getting sent home back when Reeves died, he asks to get sidelined. He actually asks to get sidelined. Holy shit Miguel did a number on Nick and I mean we knew this but 🥺😭😭 poor bby. No wonder you don’t trust yourself in a serious relationship. It’s not the girl you’re worried about it’s you. You don’t think you’re capable of staying, you’re terrified you’ll be just like your dad and leave. once again, you’ve seen the similarities with trivial things and so this just cements your fear of failing at commitment. And this is Nick in just so much pain he asks to step back. oof. I do love Leon stepping into a slight fatherly role for Nick right there though, he shows his support, his pride in Nick and in that moment I think Nick realizes while his father by blood is shit, he’s got several other strong role models in his life that care and that’s why he agrees to work with him.

Nick’s smarts comment about leaving the note behind 🤣 oh classic Torres move. Also do yourself a favor and pause it on Ellie’s reaction to him. GOLD hahaha she’s like ooo-kay did you really feel the need to say that, let’s not. Honestly I think I’ve given this look to my husband almost daily. They married y’all.

So married that she overhears Miguel trying to talk to Nick and her hackles raise!!! She’s like hold the fuck up do not traumatize my baby even more, Nick do you need me??? Because I will get you out of this, I will be here for you, I will fight this man, just say the damn word!!!! And Nick ugh, his look. They can communicate with just a simple look, he knows all that she would do for him in that moment and still nods her off, but that tiny bit of gratitude is present. Then we find out that yes Grace is really good at guessing theories “in order to keep his young family safe, it means he has to leave. Of course he can’t *tell* them why he has to leave so that they continue to stay innocent and safe. So he plays it like he’s a deadbeat dude who was “too young” to be a father and is just now realizing it and leaves his wife, little daughter & son behind. Flash forward thirty years and the NCIS case leads them to him. A piece of evidence pops up with his alias, they go knocking down doors to interrogate a potential suspect (Nick’s father) before our lovely CIA agent interfere and claims he’s innocent because he’s a CI…” like DAMN, I’m good. Hahaha any ways the reason I bring this up is because I feel like I predicted/analyzed Nick’s feelings really well back then in this theory and after seeing his expressions, they hold true. Nick is just absolutely warring with himself during this explanation, searching for anything to confirm his dad truly is a deadbeat (and yes he is still absolutely a piece of shit for what he did, but there’s a “good” reason for his leaving and that’s what makes it so- hard.) and as I said when I first broke this down, Nick understands undercover work and his dad (being the POS he is) brings that up to Nick. Like he should “get” it because wouldn’t he do the same thing since he’s in that life? But here’s where (and Nick doesn’t totally realize it yet) Nick and Miguel are different. Because Nick came back, Nick stayed. He stayed y’all and he says it here but he does not realize the implications of his words quite yet. He is NOT the same as Miguel. Yeah he doesn’t like to sit in chairs but he has stayed. He has stayed through some tough shit too but he’s stayed nonetheless. More than Miguel could ever fucking say, that’s for sure. So yes, when Nick has the come to Jesus and realizes that he is not the same as his dad and he can and will stay? Damn I can’t wait for that moment. Also I wanted to slap Miguel when he called Nick “mijo” because BITCH YOU DO NOT GET TO CALL HIM THAT. YOU DO NOT GET TO CALL HIM YOUR SON. NO. “I’m not perfect but I did the best I could” well fuck you too Miguel because look at this broken five year old boy inside a thirty five year old man’s body. Does that look like the product of a “best you could”?? Does he look “ok” to you??? Fuck you.

But yes here’s my take on where Nick is at: how do you forgive someone you’ve despised for thirty years once you know they “didn’t have a choice” (even though it will always feel like they had a choice or they could’ve explained it to you even if you were only five) and left in reality token you safe and give you a better chance at life? How do you reconcile the real dad and the one you lived with in your head for so long?? How???

And then you’re stuck still reeling from the night before and the bomb that was dropped and the reconciliation you’re attempting to your dad bringing in the ONE THING. The ONE THING he promised to bring home in the morning thirty years prior. How the actual fuck does one come back from that. Can I give another big FUCK YOU to Miguel Torres? Because seriously??? Why do you ever think that’s ok??? Hey I promised my kid I’d bring him hojaldres in the morning for breakfast thirty years ago so may as well make good on that promise right, only thirty years late that’s totally fine right? He won’t tell the difference right?

Fuck you, Miguel.

And they’re still clearly Nick’s favorite because he’s brought Jimmy to a restaurant specifically for them and that just makes my heart break for the man he had to become without a father. He still held onto that love for them even though they were probably always associated with a horrible, horrible memory of being abandoned 🥺🥺 god damn Nick you’re so broken I’m so sorry.

Ellie is still as supportive as ever and good god we clearly have lost all pretense of personal space at this point, what is her we don’t know her isn’t this normal for coworkers? But this conversation implies he called her after his talk with his dad and ugh yesssss 😩❤️ I still think he called her immediately after leaving the building, talked the entire car ride home and while getting ready for bed, needing the comfort of her voice on the other end of the line as he worked through his whirlwind of emotions and tried to come down off the cliff he felt himself on. All pretenses of a bad boy with a mysterious flare forever gone, his heart is open for her to see and he doesn’t give two shits about it anymore. But Ellie does a damn good job of girlfriend duties here and not only supports him but also gently prods him to see if he can maybe one day have a relationship with his father. The parallels she brings up makes him think (and also makes him look at her lips twice 👀 he’s just so close to her how could he not I mean right 😅) and I love that she’s still being v supportive but also trying to help him grow.

And then Ellie giving Nick the option to go with his dad or go to the other location because she’s not going to push anything on him he doesn’t want and then when he chooses the embassy to avoid his dad her reaction had me laughing 🤣 but she respects it. And yet shortly after Miguel tries to team up with Nick and Ellie hears it from the other side of the bullpen, immediately all ears to step in if he wants to avoid him again despite giving him flack for it earlier. Nick can sense her worry and support and this is the moment he takes her advice in just a tiny step and accepts teaming up with his dad. But OMG KILL ME WHEN NICK THINKS HIS DAD IS DEAD BEFORE HE GETS TO TRY AT A RELATIONSHIP AGAIN. HIS WHISPERED “papa’s” I CAAAAAN’T.

Ugh and then his last conversation with his dad while Ellie is checking on him constantly. It’s just too much, that little boy is back, desperately hoping for his dad to stick around. And Ellie is just so happy she can’t contain it for him and it’s perfect. He walks right to her, her hand on his back because they just need to touch each other after such a heavy couple of days and Nick echoes her advice back at her because he’s showing he listens and he values her insight and I just love it.

AND THEN MIGUEL HAS COME TO RIP MY HEART OUT BECAUSE HE’S A PIECE OF SHIT REMEMBER.

My poor bby Nick’s face when he realized his dad LIES AND LEAVES. REMEMBER. HE LIES AND LEAVES. God Wilmer killed it because Nick is literally on the verge of tears and my heart breaks and then yes he goes to Gibbs to see his pseudo-father who he then realizes is more of a father figure than Miguel will ever be and hell that’s okay but STILL.

I will end this WWR with a I love supportive girlfriend Ellie and another big Fuck You to Miguel Torres.

Goodnight.

#ellick #ncis #wwr #18x12 #there's a lot of yelling #there's a lot of swearing #there's just a lot yall #this ep was angst central and you know me 😅#enjooooooy #hopefully i can get 18x13 out tomorrow before 18x14 lol

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

Text

All the Write Places

Pairing: Javier Peña/Reader

Word Count: 3,041

Warnings: Mentions of canon typical violence, some use of (Y/N)

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

A collection of letters between the Reader, who is still in Texas with Javier’s family, and Javier while he’s hunting Escobar in Columbia.

Mi Amor,

It’s Javier again. I know it’s been too long since my last letter, but the DEA doesn’t want any of my personal information to be intercepted. Steve is doing well. He and Connie just adopted a baby. I think her name is Olivia.

I’m sorry I haven’t called in a while. It’s for the same reason I don’t write all too often. I can’t wait to see you again, I promise it will be soon.

Yours forever, Javier.

P.S. keep an eye out for a package.

———

My Javi,

I miss you so much my dear. Your last letter brought me to tears, and I’m over the moon about the package. The jacket is huge on me, but it smells just like you. You be sure to give the Murphys my love, and kiss their little girl for me.

Things are alright here at home. Your mother treats me like one of her own kids, and it’s very sweet. Your father has begun to teach me Spanish, and your cousins constantly ask about when their Uncle Javi is coming home.

We all miss you, but I miss you most my dear. I can’t wait to see you again.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

———

Mi Amor,

The Murphys insist I tell you Olivia is doing well and has received your love. The hunt is long, but the promise of you waiting for me at home is a sure comfort.

I apologize, but I must keep my letters short. Just know that I love you and I will be coming home. I promise.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Corazón,

I know you must keep your letters short, but your mother insists you write more. She misses you dearly. I don’t think she understands the gravity of your job. Your father understands. He is worried for you, and his brother helped him rig his radio to listen to the Colombian news. Every time I hear that name, I shiver. He’s a horrible horrible man, and I cannot wait to see him rot in prison.

To keep this letter happy, I want to tell you your sister is pregnant! She’s overjoyed, and so am I. I know you won’t be home to meet the baby, but I’ll send photos, just as I always do.

I love you my dear. I’ll wait for you to return to me, no matter how long that is.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

———

Mi Amor,

The pictures were just what I needed. They are in my apartment, and I put the one of you and my parents on my desk so you’re always with me.

Tell my sister I’m proud of her and cannot wait to meet my niece or nephew. With luck, we’ll be home soon.

I’m sending another package for you and the family. I love you.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Corazón,

The pregnancy continues to go well, and the kids loved your package. I’m glad you enjoyed the photos.

Unfortunately, I don’t know when I’ll be able to write again. I know it’s hard for you, but my mother just passed, and I’m headed back north for the funeral and to spend some time with my dad. I’ll give them your love, as always.

I wish you were by my side, Javier. The days seem so long without you.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

———

Mi Corazón

You shouldn’t have called me Javier. It was risky, for the both of us. However, I do so desperately miss your voice. I’m glad I got to speak with you.

I promised I’d write when I returned to Texas, and I am home beside your family once more. They’re all jealous I got to speak with you, but the adults understand. Your mother especially understood, and made me swear to tell you she wants you to call for Christmas.

Javier, if at all possible, please listen to that annoying American station on the radio, you know the one that’s obsessed with 50’s music? We listen every night during dinner, and it would warm my heart if I knew you were listening too.

Give Murphy my love. Tell him I can’t wait to meet him one day.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

———

Mi Amor,

I apologize for the call, but you must understand why I risked it. I couldn’t have you grieve alone, not without me to help you through that pain.

I do know the station you wrote about, and I agree it’s annoying. The boys at the office like it, and it’s on while we work. Knowing you listen to it too, it makes my heart swell. One day, we’ll listen to those old songs together, I promise.

My letters will be few and far between, and I apologize. Things are getting worse here, but I vow to return to you alive and whole.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Corazón,

You mother has decided our song is that Bobby Darrin song that plays every day. The one about the man who’s away from his woman and wishes he could grow wings and fly to her side? Beyond the Sea, she says it’s called.

Your father always changes the station when he thinks we’re all asleep. He listens to the Colombian news, and I think he prays. You said he doesn’t miss you, but he does. He absolutely does.

In other news, your sister is about ready to pop. She’s always complaining about how much her back hurts, and she’s adamant that the baby is staying in all nine months only to make her suffer. I’ve enclosed pictures, because we all painted her stomach and it was hilarious.

I hope to hear from you again before Christmas. The holidays haven’t been the same without you.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

———

Mi Amor,

And I thought my family decorated for Christmas. Columbia has some of the nicest holiday decorations I’ve ever seen. I tried to get Murphy to photograph them, but they didn’t turn out quite right. I’ve sent them anyway.

Tell my sister I cannot wait to meet my niece or nephew. I’m sure that tiny bundle of joy will be just what you need over the holidays.

The Embassy is allowing me to call on Christmas, and I’m allowed to stay on the line for as long as it’s safe. With the precautions they’ve taken, I might even be able to talk with you for hours, my love. I cannot wait. It will be the best Christmas present, being able to hear your voice.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Corazón,

I don’t know when this letter will reach you, but the baby came today! Only a day before Christmas. Your sister is pissed that she’ll be spending Christmas in the hospital, but the baby, a beautiful little girl, is so cute. She’s lifted everyone’s spirits, and the promise of your call tomorrow is only making them happier.

I know this will be our reality for as long as it just be, but I want you home Javier. It sounds selfish, I know, but I want you beside me, no matter the price. Please come home soon, my love, or I fear I may forget you.

I’m eagerly awaiting your call. I’ll talk to you soon.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

———

Mi Amor,

Hearing your voice was just what I needed today. I assume I’ll be receiving a letter soon that tells me my sister had her baby, but I couldn’t wait to write.

My love, I have a surprise for you. Before you get excited, I’m not coming home soon. The fight only grows harder, and I don’t know if I’ll be home for years. But I found you a gift, one I know you’ll adore. I must be there to give it to you, in person. I know, how cruel of me to deny you your gift for what may be years. Just know, I will never forget it. It sits on my desk and Murphy teases me about it relentlessly. One day, I’ll give it to you. One day.

I’ll see you again, my love. I swear it.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Corazón,

Your last letter stunned me Javi! You must’ve written that as soon as we hung up. As for the gift, it will be aging waiting for it. Am I allowed to guess? Will you tell me when I get it right?

Your mother was a bit disappointed you couldn’t be with us for Christmas. She made an absolutely heavenly apple pie that she said is your favorite.

The baby grows stronger with every passing day. Maybe one day, she and the Murphy’s little girl can be friends. I think they’d like that.

I’ll see you soon Javier.

Yours truly, (F/N).

———

Mi Amor,

This will be hard to hear. I’ve had trouble simply writing it, and I know it will be hell to read. I have to stop sending letters. One of the DEA’s men wrote a letter to his wife, and two days later he was found dead in a river. It won’t be forever, and I will still receive every letter you send me as long as you keep mailing them they way you are, but we cannot risk anyone finding me right now.

To answer your previous question, yes. Please guess what the gift is. I bet you’ll never be able to guess.

I’ll write as soon as I can.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Corazón,

Not knowing whether you’ve received my letters will be torture Javi. But, as you’ve told me many times, I must remain strong. I will admit I cried when your last letter arrived, but then I imagined you sitting next to a radio, listening to our song at the same time I did, and it was like you were beside me. I miss you dearly Javier, but I will remain brave until your next letter arrives.

Until then, I will simply have to keep you updated. The baby is almost three months now and starting to be a troublemaker, just like her uncle. Your sister jokes her first word will be ‘Javi’ with how much we speak of you around the house.

I also heard, via phone, that Connie is back in the states with Olivia. She says Columbia was just too much, but promised to come and visit me. Give Steve my condolences, I know it must be hard.

Until my next letter, I love you dear.

Yours truly, (F/N).

P.S. Is the gift that book I spoke of over Christmas?

———

Mi Corazón,

Another month, another letter. Now, I make no effort to conceal myself when I listen to the Columbian news with your father and mother. Your mother cries, and your father prays. Sometimes I cry with her, and sometimes I pray with him. It’s hard, not knowing who’s reading this letter first.

Connie came to visit, and she brought Olivia. She’s such a sweet thing, and she adores your cousins. She told me about what she’s seen, what’s happened to her, and I wish for you home more than ever. It sounds horrible, her retellings coupled with the news I barely understand, it sounds awful. The price on your head, and yet you walk around anyway. Please, my heart, be careful. I cannot lose you.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

P.S. This guessing game is such fun. Your sister gave me an idea. Is your gift a camera? I doubt it is, but she wanted me to ask.

———

Mi Corazón,

I apologize for not writing for months. I was traveling to visit my father. He had a health scare and wanted me by his side.

The baby is almost eight months now! Her first word was ‘Javi,’ and we all had a big laugh about it. It’s painful not having you here, or at least having letters.

I listen to our song every night, whenever it’s on the radio. Your sister teases me for it, but I don’t care. It connects me to you. To makes me wonder if some day, we could have a future where there’s no threat, where we could be together.

Please promise me Javier, you won’t get involved with any of this dangerous shit happening in Columbia if you can help it.

Yours truly, (Y/N).

P.S. is the gift jewelry? Your mother thinks it’s a ring.

———

Mi Amor,

I have another torturous request. Please stop writing. Your last letter was intercepted by his men and it was almost very bad. Before I go, please know I listen to our song every night. Tell my sister I love her and her tiny troublemaker, my mother I wish I were home, and my father I’m grateful for the prayers. As for you, I miss you so much my love. I tried to delay the inevitable, but we must stop communicating. I love you, no matter how far apart we are. I’ll write as soon as it’s safe.

Yours forever, Javier.

P.S. No it isn’t the book, no it isn’t a camera, and yes it is jewelry.

———

Mi Amor,

Are you still the same person I wrote to years ago? How’s my sister and my niece, and my parents? How are you? And your father? Murphy and I are good, if a little stressed, because I know you’ll ask.

Things have gone maddeningly quiet. He’s gone, it seems. Disappeared, but I’m sure the radio told you. I know you asked me not to get involved, but I did, and I think I’m in trouble for it. Big trouble.

Anyway, I may be home soon, depending on how it all goes. I cannot wait to kiss you again.

Apologies for such a short message after years of nothing. I missed so much, you’ll have to tell me all about it.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

Mi Amor,

Please tell me these letters are reaching you. Are you still with my parents? Should I call? I think I will, at the end of the week. It’s Monday now. I guess I should tell you, right?

I received good news for you today. They’re sending me home. I know, he isn’t dead yet. But every action has a consequence and unfortunately mine are sending me home before my job is done. Murphy is understandably upset. Yelled for almost twenty minutes about how it wasn’t fair. I’d put my life on hold for almost a decade to catch Escobar, it was only right I was there when he was brought down.

But life isn’t like that, and I’ll be on a plane home in a week or two. I can’t wait to see you. I hope you’re still waiting for me.

Yours forever, Javier.

———

“Mi hija?”

You looked around, seeing Javier’s mother come out for you. The tinny radio playing your song flickered next to your leg. It was on repeat, on a CD Javier’s cousin had burned for you. You’d taken to sitting on the porch swing after dinner was over, simply to take your mind off things. The letters were stacked beside you, the newest one on top. You hadn’t had the energy to even open the new ones. What could you possibly say after years apart? Who would he be? Was he still your Javier?

“Mi hija?”

“Yes mamá?”

Javier’s mother sat beside you. “There’s a new letter in the kitchen for you.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

Standing and gathering your letters and the radio, you followed Javier’s mother into the kitchen. It was warm, and there was an envelope with your name on it resting on the counter.

Picking it up, you turned it over to see two tiny words scrawled across the back.

Open me

You popped the letter open, seeing a small card inside.

The porch. Hurry, before the sun goes down.

Confused, you headed back outside, where the sun had just begun to paint the sky. There was someone on the porch swing, rocking back and forth and humming your song, the same song that was playing from the radio by his side.

The creak of the porch door brought his attention to you, and you immediately put your hands over your mouth and sobbed. “Javi.”

“Mi amor,” he said, standing and wrapping you in a hug. “Oh how I’ve missed you. I promised I’d come home.”

“You did,” you said weakly, collapsing into the hug. “Oh Javier, my heart I’ve missed you.”

Javier kissed the top of your head, smiling as you pulled away a bit. “May I have this dance?”

You laughed, beginning to sway as Javier swayed, both humming your song.

Eventually, once the sun had set completely and the Texas stars were out, you and Javier separated, sitting together on the porch swing.

“Oh,” Javier said, standing suddenly. “Your gift!”

You smiled. “You forgot?”

“I was too busy with something else,” Javier said. “But I think I’ve made you wait long enough, mi amor. Close your eyes.”

You did, closing your eyes and hearing him shuffle in front of you. After a minute of silence, Javier spoke. “Open your eyes.”

Opening your eyes, you gasped. Javier was on one knee before you, holding out a gorgeous ring. “I knew,” he whispered softly. “I knew the minute I received your first letter that I wanted to marry you. If we had been married all those years ago, you would’ve been able to come with me, to have me by your side. And now, if you’ll have me, I want to remain here, with you at my side and with me at yours, for the rest of my life. No more letters, my love.”

You nodded, crying as you practically threw yourself into Javier’s arms. “Yes!” You said happily. “Yes!”

Javier smiled, sliding the ring onto your finger. A perfect fit. “Now we’ll always be together,” he said, kissing your knuckles. “Always.”

Kissing Javier firmly, you nodded. “Always. No matter what.”

And you did stick together. The day he got sent back, you packed a bag and boarded the plane right beside him, ready for whatever horrors would await you. He didn’t want you going, but you insisted. Together always, no matter what.

#narcos #Javier Pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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winnetou-oldshatterhand · 3 years ago

Text

That scene with Nscho-tschi in the bushes

So yeah, I collected and translated a few versions of that scene I wrote. For completeness’ sake: The first one is Karl May’s version, also translated by me.

Then we have a scene from my fic Das Buch, two scenes from a WIP with time loops that probably won’t make sense without context and at the end a little something about sibling banter written by someone with no siblings lol. That one is just for fun and written in about fifteen minutes max.

Original: (translated by me, from Winnetou 1 as on the Karl May website. Page ca 436)

I was already in the process of reaching out with my hand when something Winnetou said stopped me.

„Should I fetch him?“, he asked, whispering.

„No“, Nscho-tschi answered. „He will come.“

„He won't.“

„He will!“

„My sister errs. He has learnt everything very quickly; but your trace passes through the air. How is he meant to find it?“

„He will find it. My brother Winnetou has told me that Old Shatterhand is impossible to lead astray already. Why is he now claiming the opposite?“

„Because today he is facing the hardest task possible. His eye will find any trace; yours, however, is only to be found with his mind, and he hasn't learnt that yet.“

„Still, he will come, for he can do anything he wants.“

She merely whispered those words, and yet there was such confidence, such trust in her tone, I could have been proud of it

„Yes, I have never met a man who so easily learns new skills. Still, one thing remains he will never learn, and Winnetou feels deeply sorry about it.“

„What is it?“

„The wish all of us share.“

Just then I had wanted to make them aware of my presence; but Winnetou spoke of a wish, something that stopped me in my tracks. What wish would I not have loved to fulfill for those good, kind people! They had one and weren't telling me because they didn't believe I would fulfill it. Maybe now I would hear what it was. Therefore I stayed silent and listened.

„Has my brother Winnetou already talked to him about it?“ asked Nscho-tschi.

„No“, replied Winnetou.

„And Intschu tschuna, our father, hasn't either?“

„No. He wanted to tell him but I wouldn't allow it.“

„Not? Why? Nscho-tschi loves this white man deeply; she is the daughter of the supreme chieftain of the Apaches!”

„That she is, and more besides, much more. Every red warrior and every white man would be glad if my sister wanted to be his squaw, everyone but Old Shatterhand.“

„How can my brother Winnetou know this if he hasn't talked to him about it?“

„I know it anyways because I know him. He is not like other white men, he has higher wants than them. He will not take an Indian woman as squaw.“

„Has he said that?“

„No.“

„Does his heart belong to a white woman?“

„Neither.“

„You know this for sure?“

„Yes. We spoke of white women and from his words I understood that his heart hadn't spoken yet.“

„So it will speak for me!“

„My sister mustn't deceive herself! Old Shatterhand thinks and feels differently than you believe. If he chooses a squaw she must be amongst women what he is amongst men.“

„And I am not?“

„Amongst the red girls, yes; no one is equal to my beautiful sister. But what have you seen and heard? What have you learnt? You know how women live amongst our people but nothing of what white women must have learnt, must know. Old Shatterhand looks not for the glimmer of gold, nor for beauty of a face; he looks for things he will not find in a red girl.“

She lowered her head and stayed silent. So he lovingly caressed her cheek and said:

„It hurts me, breaking my good sister's heart, but Winnetou is used to always speaking the truth, even if it is a sad truth. Maybe he knows a way on which Nscho-tschi might reach the goal for which she strives.“

Upon hearing this she rapidly lifted her head and said:

„Which way is this?“

„The one leading to the cities in the East.“

„That's where I should go, you think?“

„Yes.“

„Why?“

„To learn what you must know and be capable of if Old Shatterhand is supposed to love you.“

„So I will go, and soon, very soon! Will my brother Winnetou grant me a wish?“

„Which one?“

„Talk to Intschu tschuna, our father, about this! Ask him to let me go to the cities in the East! He won't say no, he - - -“

That was all I heard, as I started crawling back silently. It felt like sin, having listened to the sibling's talk. If only they didn't notice me now! What shame for them, and even more so for me! Now, on my retreat, it was even more important to remain careful than on my approach. The slightest noise, the smallest coincidence, was enough to betray my knowledge of the beautiful Indian woman's secret. And in that case I would have to leave my red friends the very same day.

The Book: (Winnetou decides to read Winnetou 1)

Of course Charley described their last practice, the last test in detail. He had done incredibly well, many more experienced warriors would have taken longer to find the trace.

Wait a moment – Charley had attempted to sneak up on them? Winnetou vividly remembered him approaching them from the opposite side of the clearing. His brother had overheard him talking to Nscho-tschi? How could they not have noticed? Apparently he didn't have every right to criticize careless young warriors if he himself had paid that little attention.

Of course, he knew why he hadn't been paying attention. His plan had been to tell Nscho-tschi about his own feelings for Charley while they were sitting in the bushes, waiting. Telling her the true reason why he hadn't brought up her feelings for his brother. He had changed his mind at the very last second – a choice he was feeling eminently grateful for in hindsight.

Maybe his reaction to Nscho-tschi's words had been a little harsh but he had been jealous, pessimistic and his own heart had already been broken. Of course he had wanted to wish them all the best, his sister and his friend, but he hadn't known what exactly Charley wanted. His assumptions had gone towards someone just as perfect, as smart, as educated.

But back to the book. The wish he had meant, the wish he had refused to elaborate on was one his brother still hadn't fulfilled. To simply remain in the West, at Winnetou's side, with the Apaches. Of course the rest of his family had wanted Charley to stay as Nscho-tschi's husband, he himself would have preferred that didn't happen, though he'd never have said that. So his words sounded supportive, his deeds were less so. Sometimes Winnetou wished for his sister's confidence, but how could he ever hope his brother's heart would speak for him.

Maybe if he'd been less harsh, if he'd reacted differently to his sister's pain, anything but quickly suggesting education in the cities of the East, maybe his family would still be alive, maybe they'd never have met Santer.

Winnetou still felt surprised that he'd so entirely missed Charley's approach and retreat. Regardless of his heartache, you couldn't pay that little attention. Had it been an enemy both of them would have died. Still, why would Charley have felt he had to leave them over this conversation? Shame of overhearing them and still not reciprocating Nscho-tschi's feelings? That wasn't his fault, no one could control their heart.

After Nscho-tschi had asked to be allowed into the cities of the East, Winnetou had gotten lost in his thoughts. He had worried for her, considered the prejudices she would encounter, all for some vague hope. Their father hadn't been able to deny them any major wishes, not since they had lost their mother, not since he had lost the love of his life.

As of yet unpublished time travel/time loop fic 1:

Maybe it was a mistake, following the script his memories provided, but as of yet he hadn't woken up in the past again... Still, Charley didn't know if he could repeat all of his actions from back then, not identically at least. He had changed.

In spite of his twinging conscience Charley hid back behind that same bush in which he knew the siblings were hiding. It was truly remarkable that he had managed to succeed in sneaking up on Winnetou – a feat that had never been easy, neither in the past nor in the present.

„Should I fetch him?“, Winnetou asked, whispering.

„No“, answered Nscho-tschi, „He will come.“

„He won't come.“

„He will!“

„My sister errs. He has learnt quickly, astonishingly so; but your trace goes through the air itself. How is he meant to find it?“

„He will find it. My brother Winnetou told me himself, Old Shatterhand can no longer be deceived. Why is he contradicting his own words?“

„Because this is the hardest possible task. His eye may find any trace; but yours can only be found with thought. Winnetou doesn't know if his brother has learnt that already.“

Maybe it was his imagination, but Charley felt as if Winnetou had just a little bit more trust in him. Barely there, but something had changed.

„He will come, he can do anything he puts his mind to.“

Nscho-tschi whispered this, like she did back then, her voice full of trust.

„Yes, I have never known a man who is as skilled in everything he touches. There is just one thing he won't do, and Winnetou is terribly sorry about it.“

„What are you talking about?“

„The wish we all share.“

The wish to take Nscho-tschi as a wife – Charley didn't want that, true. If the wish was him staying in the West, well, he was planning on it. Last time he had desperately wanted to figure out which wish to fulfill but no one had ever told him. Would they speak of their wish now?

„Has my brother spoken to him?“, Nscho-tschi asked.

„No“, Winnetou replied.

„And Instschu tschuna, our father, has he asked?“

„No. He wanted to tell him but I refused.“

„You refused? Why? Nscho-tschi loves him, he respects our culture and knows our language; and she is the Apache chieftain's daughter!“

„She is, yes, and she is more than that. Every red warrior and every white man would be happy to have my sister as his squaw. Everyone but Old Shatterhand.“

Winnetou was right about that, unfortunate as it was, Nscho-tschi was not someone who would make him happy, regardless of her skills or beauty.

„How can my brother Winnetou know this, if he hasn't talked to him about it?“

„I know it anyways, I know him. He is not like other white people, he wants freedom. He will not marry.“

„But if his heart speaks? If it speaks for me?“

„My sister must not lie to herself! If Old Shatterhand chooses a squaw she will be amongst women as he is amongst men. He wants to travel. He won't stay.“

She lowered her head and remained silent. Seeing that he lovingly stroked her cheek and said:

„It hurts me to be breaking my sister's heart, but Winnetou will always speak the truth, even if it is not a happy one.“

Nscho-tschi paused a while longer before she suggested: „I could go to the cities in the East, learn, what Klekih-Petra meant to teach us. Learn what Old Shatterhand would want in a squaw, learn his culture as he learnt ours. Not just for him.“

„Winnetou knows Nscho-tschi wouldn't head to the East just to change for a man. She may like Old Shatterhand but what she really wants is to find a way for us to survive.“

Charley was glad to hear as much. He knew her love for him had little hope of ever being requited. She was a beautiful woman, a good friend, but once upon a time he had married a beautiful woman whom he had appreciated as a friend and as a person. Neither of them had been truly happy.

If anyone could find a way to preserve the Mescalero culture Nscho-tschi was surely one of the best candidates. But she had to die. This was his hell and there was nothing he could do.

This was everything he needed to hear so it was time to head back out of the bush and greet his friends openly.

As of yet unpublished time travel/time loop fic 2:

Those hunts and practices that once filled their first months together were fun now, not schooling. Charley proved himself over and over, proved that he knew his way around the West. Rather than painstakingly learning culture and language of the Mescaleros from Nscho-tschi he helped her teach what Klekih-Petra used to teach. He made friends with other warriors, sat with them at night to talk about the hunt for buffalo and bears. He listened to them talking about their squaws and children.

He was more part of the tribe than he had ever been in his first life.

This time when Charley got the task to find Nscho-tschi after Winnetou carried her he didn't listen in on them. He would be fine, regardless of what they were planning. If they wanted something they needed to tell him.

This time he entered the clearing openly, calling them out of the bushes straight away. Winnetou clearly showed his surprise at the speed at which they had been found, proud of the brother who had barely ever been his student as far as he remembered.

A new one with actual banter as a treat: (this is pretty much crack)

As I slowly and carefully crawled towards the bush I knew Winnetou and Nscho-tschi to be hiding in I began hearing furious whispers.

„You never let me spend time with him alone!“, Nscho-tschi was accusing her brother.

„Well I met him first! He's my blood brother, my friend first!“

„That doesn't mean you're his only friend!“

„Of course not, shut up!“

„You shut up!“

I had never witnessed the siblings quite so relaxed, even in their argument there was no malice behind their words.

„Nscho-tschi do this, Nscho-tschi do that, Nscho-tschi I don't want to play with you, Nscho-tschi ate all the berries daddy!“

„Oh shush you did eat those berries.“

„You're just jealous he wants to spend time with me too!“

She seemed to be poking his side as she was talking.

„Seriously Nscho-tschi, shush – if we keep this up Charley will find us just by hearing us talk!“

„You started it... But fine.“

And certainly, the siblings quieted down. Of course, I had already found them, not because of their noise, but they wouldn't believe that if I showed myself now.

It was strange, listening to them tease each other like I had witnessed my sisters argue about dolls and playmates, argue like I had argued with my siblings about everything and nothing at all. Winnetou had always seemed so regal, so otherworldly. He was human though, just like the rest of us.

As if on cue, Winnetou whispered a last time: „This is not going to be a Fort Tennessee situation, clear?“

Whatever he had meant with that, it was time for me to retreat.

#Winnetou #Old Shatterhand #winnetou/old shatterhand #my writing #Karl May #karl may books #Nscho-tschi #Listen carefully this is not a final polished version of anything #this is not beta read or edited or anything #it's a rough draft/translation into a language I don't usually use for talking about this so I'm missing vocab and too lazy to look it up #If I ever post this to AO3 it'll be cleaned up but this already took me a week longer than I had planned lol #angst

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yeah-all-of-it · 3 years ago

Text

I wrote a fic the other day (my first!) that included a brief appearance by an original character named Rhonda, who is Ian and Mickey’s neighbor across the hall. Decided to write a bit of a prequel, exploring how they came to be friends with her. It’s 2 parts because it’s 4.7k and I don’t have an Ao3 account. Link for part 1 is here and at the bottom. Hope you enjoy!

Spill Your Guts: Part II

They walk across the hall and knock on the door. Rhonda answers, wearing a different boho dress than a couple weeks ago. Her hair is in a long side braid.

“Ian!” she gushes and gives him a warm hug. “And you must be Mickey. It’s so wonderful to properly meet you. I’m Rhonda, or Ms. Rhonda as Ian insists on calling me.” She gives Mickey a hug as well, and he awkwardly accepts.

As they enter the apartment, wonderful smells from the kitchen swirl around them. Her apartment is identical to theirs, only hers has much more furniture and is eclectically decorated. It feels warm and homey, much like Rhonda herself.

“Come have a seat, dinner is almost ready. Mickey, we’re having roasted duck tonight. Hope that’s okay. And there’s some Old Styles in the fridge, help yourself,” Rhonda states, and winks at Ian.

Mickey sees the wink and glances over at Ian, who looks fittingly guilty of conspiring over the choice of dinner served this evening. Mickey’s mouth ticks up slightly at the corners.

Ten minutes later, the three of them are seated at the table passing around serving dishes, small talking for a little while.

“This duck is fuckin’ incredible. Oh shit, sorry. Is that okay?” Mickey apologizes.

Rhonda laughs. “You can say anything around me, I don’t offend easily.”

“Oh, that’s good, cause I can be kinda fuckin’ offensive sometimes,” Mickey quips.

They all chuckle, enjoying their conversation and how easily it has flowed, like they’ve been friends for years. Just before dessert, Rhonda says,” So, Ian. I promised you that I would tell you my story at dinner, yes?”

“Yeah, you did.” He turns to Mickey. “She’s let me basically pour my heart out to her for the last three weeks and I was a selfish prick who didn’t even ask her about herself.”

“It’s completely okay; I’m going to tell you now,” she says and smiles warmly at her new friend, grabbing his hand across the table and giving it a little squeeze.

She continues. “So, about 50 years ago, I met the love of my life. It was a different time back then. Much like you boys, we had to hide what we were to each other. Pretend we were just friends in public when we were madly in love in private. I also had an abusive, homophobic father whom, although he was aware since I was a teen, I didn’t officially come out to until he was on his deathbed, too weak to physically hurt me, when I was 40 years old. His last words to me were that I was a huge disappointment and that he didn’t love me. I was a grown ass woman but I felt like a heartbroken child in that moment. Never mind that I had found the love of my life, graduated top of my class earning my Ph.D. in psychology, had a happy successful life. I was a disappointment.”

“Wait, you’re a lesbian?” Ian inquires. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

“No, Ian sweetie, it’s fine. Yes, I am.” Rhonda continues, “My wife’s name was Margo and I loved her deeply. She, unfortunately, passed away about 5 years ago from cancer.

“So, back to my story. It took me years after his passing as a grown adult with an advanced psychology degree to undo even some of the damage he did to me. It still hurts sometimes all these years later. He took so much from me but you know what he was never able to take? My love for Margo and my beautiful life with her. I spent 45 incredible years with her. We traveled all over the world together, experienced so many things, made so many memories. Made love in strange places and safe places and a few dangerous places.” She smiles softly at the memories. “You boys aren’t the only ones who’ve been caught in the act,” she laughs and the two men chuckle, still a little embarrassed.

“You beautiful boys remind me a lot of myself and Margo. Had to struggle through a lotta years. But madly, hopelessly in love. Loyal and dedicated to each other,” Rhonda observes.

Ian reaches over and gently takes hold of Mickey’s hand. He flinches a little but doesn’t pull away, still getting used to affection in front of others they aren’t close with.

“That’s… thank you for that,” says Ian softly. “And I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, sweetie. I try not to dwell on what I’ve lost and just appreciate what I had with her. Makes it not hurt so much.”

“I’m really sorry,” Ian apologizes, “but I have to excuse myself to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

He tries to make it quick, knowing how awkward Mickey probably feels being alone with this woman he’s just met. He’s probably just staring at a spot on the wall or down at his lap. As he’s exiting the bathroom, he hears them talking. He doesn’t want to interrupt but is eavesdropping wrong? He stops for a minute to listen, gauge when he should head back in.

The voices are quiet but he can just make out what they’re saying.

“Mickey, your Ian didn’t tell all your secrets, I promise. He was very respectful of your privacy. He did mention a little about your father though and I just wanted to tell you, I’ve been there and I understand the conflicting emotions that come from a relationship like that. If you want to talk about it, I’m here, okay?”

Ian doesn’t expect Mickey to say anything, but suddenly Mickey is speaking.

“Uhh, ok. Just, like…,” Mickey stammers, searching for words. “He was just such a fuckin’ prick, but it was more than that. He… um… used to beat me and shit. Almost killed me and Ian when he caught us together once. Again when I came out, and when we got married. But still, all I wanted to do was make him proud, not let him down. He’s fuckin’ dead now and I’m glad. But I was actually… sad? maybe?… when it happened? I don’t fuckin’ know.” Word vomit, Ian thinks.

“That’s completely normal, Mickey,” Rhonda replies sympathetically. “I felt exactly the same when my dad died. It’s such a weird feeling, to be upset but not sure why. To be glad you’re rid of them, but you still miss them in a way? It’s so complicated and it’s hard to understand if you’ve never been there. It’s just, weird.”

“Yeah. I’m just kinda numb about it now, ya know? Ian really helped me through it. Always had my back. Always has, actually.”

“That’s funny,” Rhonda states. “He described you the same way. ‘Always has my back’. He loves you, Mickey. So much. It’s so clear to me that what you boys have together is so, so special and rare. I can tell how much you love him, too.”

“I really really do, Rhonda. I try really fuckin’ hard to show him all the time but I’m not sure he knows how much-“

“He knows. Trust me. He knows.”

Ian figures he’s listened far too long; they’ll probably wonder why he was in the bathroom forever.

He steps out into the hallway to head back to the table and sees Rhonda and Mickey sitting right beside each other, looking each other in the eyes, and she has both of Mickey’s hands grasped in hers.

Ian walks into the room and Mickey clears his throat, pulling his hands away, and quickly wipes what appears to be a tear from his cheek. Sniffs a time or two.

“So, who wants dessert!” Rhonda says cheerfully.

———

“Night, boys!” Rhonda calls from across the hallway as Ian and Mickey head to their apartment after dinner. She grabs Ian’s shoulder, stops him for a moment and whispers in his ear, “You were right. Mickey is an absolute gem,” and gives him a wink.

“Sooo…” Ian hesitates, as soon as they are back home. “What did you and Rhonda chat about while I was in the bathroom?” He thinks he’s being nonchalant.

“I know you were listening,” Mickey states matter-of-factly.

“Um, what?” Ian questions.

“C’mon, man. Were you takin’ a shit? You were gone for like, fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m sorr-“

“Ian, it’s okay. I don’t mind. It’s nothin’ you don’t already know anyway. You were right though. Something about Rhonda just makes you wanna spill your fuckin’ guts out to her,” Mickey admits.

“Maybe it’s the psychology Ph.D.? I mean, she’s basically a professional listener,” Ian suggests. “And she’s not, like, legally allowed to judge you or something.”

“Yeah, maybe, but it’s more than that I think. She’s just so fuckin’ like, kind and welcoming and shit. I don’t know.”

“So,” Ian says as he sidles up to Mickey, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “We can be friends with her? Like, actual real friends that do stuff and hang out together? Especially now that you know she’s not after my giant cock?”

Mickey sighs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. We can be friends with her,” Mickey relents and places his hands on Ian’s hips.

Ian bends down and kisses Mickey slowly and softly, holding him close. When he pulls away slightly he says, “That’s great, because we are doing yoga on the roof with her tomorrow morning, 8 am sharp.”

PART 1

#gallavich fic #post season 11 #original character #ian and mickey #tw slight exploration of past trauma

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