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all-things-fic · 4 years ago

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Country Lane | Divorce Harry III

Thank you all for waiting for this one. Massive middle finger to tumblr for screwing the post up! Divorce Harry III is finally here!

Shoutout to my lovely ladies who taking time to read this for me @harrytheehottie, @harryfeatgaga, @haute-romance-quotidienne and of course @waitingfortwilight. Also, thank you to all my lovely anons and those of you who come off anon to talk about this, I’ve really loved the general chit chat about the series <3

Without further ado, enjoy! Lots of love and happy Saturday! x

*~*

You had no idea where you were.

Surrounded by nothing but overgrown grass and the odd wooden fence. If you listened carefully in the distance you could hear the traffic of what you thought could be the A34 road and you were pretty sure that the last sign you had seen before your car cut out had been for Congleton.

Rubbing your hands down your fresh face, your spa retreat to Mottram Hall for the hen-do of one of the school Mum’s entering her second marriage, was nothing more than a distant memory. As you sat freezing, in your car, looking out onto the harsh autumn weather of October, you were far from relaxed and rejuvenated.

Worrying your bottom lip with your top teeth, you juggled your phone from palm to palm. You knew you had to call him, you effectively didn’t have any choice. Especially after you’d pulled your way through your glove compartment and you hadn’t come up trumps with your breakdown cover documentation.

Part of you was cursing in that moment at how you’d handed the piece of paper which held all telephone numbers and car insurance policy account numbers over to your son to scribble upon during one particularly long car session, just to keep him quiet. You were actually sure it was now stuck on your fridge with a lovely drawing of what you presumed to be Marvel characters all over it.

The worst of it all was that you knew whatever had happened to your car was bad. You knew simply from the way the car had spluttered and started to grind before almost seizing up and stalling to a halt.

Unlocking your phone, you scrolled through your contacts and landed on his contact card. Clicking on it you saw when the last time you had called him was and recalled the soft FaceTime he’d had with your eldest son, who wanted to tell his Daddy about how he’d been picked for the schools first rugby team, taking him out of reserves and off the bench.

Breathing deeply, you ignored the ache the fond memory began to cause and tapped Harry’s name. The dialling tone that greeted you filled the pit of your stomach with knots as you tried to relax in the leather seat of your Range Rover.

Again, you started to worry your lips at the fifth ring, before the line clicked and you heard his warm voice. You froze at how friendly he sounded, his voice held an edge of laughter to it and you heard shuffling faintly in the background, followed by chatter, before it was shut out.

On the other end of the line, Harry had found himself dodging his way around people in his Mother’s kitchen in Cheshire, before leaving the room and catching your call before it cut off.

“Sorry ‘bout tha’,” he spoke an unnecessary apology, probably because of how long it had taken him to answer, as you remained quiet on the other line.

You blinked harshly at the sound of your name being spoken. “Are you still there?” Harry asked, pulling the phone away from his ear to see that the call was indeed still running.

“Ye- yeah,” you stuttered, partly due to a soft tremble to your lips from being cold.

“Everythin’ alrigh’?” He asked, a concerned edge to his question, as you dropped deeper into your car seat.

Another small amount of silence.

“Not really,” you responded, honestly. “Where are you?”

With a small frown, he answered, “‘M at Mums. ‘S her birthday this weekend, remember?”

Shit. You’d forgotten.

Heavily breathing in response, you said, “It slipped my mind. Sorry.”

There was a chuckle at the end of the line.

“Not like you tha’,” he playfully jostled, causing the pit of your stomach to fall through again. You hated how he always managed to make any conversation between the two of you not seem as if you were in the middle of a prolonged divorce. “Usually got everything colour coordinated on our kitchen calendar.”

And he still did that so smoothly too, spoke about things as if you still did them together. The use of ‘our’ and ‘we’ was second nature and so naturally fell off his tongue in a velvety way that was soothing but left you shivering if caught by your touch in a different way.

As if he could read your mind, before you’d thought it, he said, “Don’t worry. I added everyone’s names to the presents so she thinks they’re from all o’ us.”

“I shouldn’t have called, you’re busy,” you responded without feeling, starting to pull the phone away from your ear and back to thinking about how you could get in touch with your breakdown cover. There had to be a way, surely.

“Hey, no,” he was urgent. “Don’t hang up, ‘s fine. I’ve pulled myself away. ‘S okay- please. Don’t hang up on me, something’s not right ‘ere. ‘S okay to still need me sometimes, y’ know?”

“It’s okay, I can sort it myself-“ you flung your car door open. “Can you just tell me know how to pop the bonnet up on this car, cause it’s been so bloody long since I last had to do it-“

“Pop the bonnet? Why’d you need to do that? Have you broken down somewhere?” His questions were clipped as he asked.

“Don’t get arsey with me-“

“‘M not,” he replied, quickly cutting. He really was. “Are the kids wi’you?”

“‘S alright for me be stranded on the side of the road on my own when it’s about to get dark-“

“Did I say that?” Again, he words were clipped. “Are you trying to wind me up?”

“Why have you not told me how to raise the bonnet?”

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before walking the short distance in his Mother's hallway to lower himself, slowly, down to sit on the stairs.

“Underneath the passenger side there’s a lever,” he paused his softer tone, giving you time to find it. As he spoke you trampled against the grass closest to the passenger side and opened the door. Looking down at a red lever, which had clearly made itself known to you now that it had been brought to your attention.

“Found it?” he asked, hearing you hum.

You shut the passenger door of your car and stared at the slightly popped up bonnet, Harry’s voice filling your ears again. “If you feel underneath the bonnet, between the E and the R there is another little lever. Squeeze that and it’ll release the bonnet-“

“Where’s the little thing to keep it up?”

He breathily chuckled, “‘s on hydraulics so keeps itself up.”

Again, you didn’t respond and he was met with silence. Harry rested his chin against his palm waiting for you to speak, eyes looking towards the dimming light as night began to approach.

“Wha’ can you see?”

“Not a whole lot, it looks fine to me.“

“Darling, just let me come to you.”

“But this is why I pay for breakdown cover,” you snapped.

“Where are you?” He asked, voice deep and to your annoyance laced with concern that he should no longer hold.

You stammered trying to figure out some sort of excuse to bullshit him with, eyes taking in the country lane and the vast greeness around you.

“Last time ‘m askin’,” he harshly cut in. “‘S gonna get dark soon, so jus’ tell me where y’are.”

“Somewhere near Congleton.”

“And wha’s the matter wi’the car?”

You noted his voice on his last question was a bit pinched, probably from focusing on another task like pulling on a pair of trainers to bring him to you. He clearly wasn’t playing along anymore.

“Well, I think I’ve had an oil leak but none of the lights have come on to officially let me know whether I have or haven’t. The only thing is the nasty black marks that are on the driveway at home, but ‘s nothing that couldn't probably be jet washed off-“

As you rambled about cleaning the oil from the drive of the Hampstead home, Harry zoned out beginning to list the things he would probably require to bring with him. He was sure some of it could be found in Robin’s old garage, knowing that boxes of tools were still piled in the far corner.

“Send me your exact location via text.”

“Harry-“ you sighed.

“‘M not askin’, ‘m telling,” he abruptly responded.

***

People say that Googling symptoms is never a good thing, you suppose the same could be said for a car.

Were they symptoms though? You couldn’t quite coherently think of another descriptor for them as they brought up search after search at how you quite possibly could have ruined your car.

You tried not to dwell as the sky around you began to get darker while you sat in the safe passing place on the country lane. It wasn’t like you had much choice but to stick around.

Cold, and dithering slightly, you had taken to throwing your coat over your body like a blanket as simply wearing it wasn’t keeping your entire body warm enough.

Car doors locked and eyes closed, you tried to find some solace in your waiting. You didn’t have much avail, as you were interrupted by the harsh white lighting of LED headlights breaking through the dimming dusk sky.

You frowned, eyes squinting as the light got closer and pulled in behind you. A sense of uncertainty filled your body at the new arrival, along the otherwise desolate road.

A figure of a male jumped out of the car behind you, causing you to still all of your movement in your car seat as you tried to make out any features to you that would make you comfortable in knowing it was Harry.

The blinding lights made it far too difficult to see anything and you were beginning to think that the person behind you had left them on, on purpose. Unless they were those annoying ones that slowly turned themselves off.

Staring out you vaguely were able to make out the figure approaching you and as he got halfway you relaxed.

It was Harry.

He rapped his knuckles gently at your driver's side window and then smiled to himself as he realised how you wouldn’t be able to open it due to your inactive engine.

“Open the door for me,” he spoke, his voice slightly muffled as it came through your car window. He watched as you reached for the door handle inside and pushed the door ajar ever so slightly. “Could you have picked anywhere more hidden away?”

You didn’t respond straight-away, deciding instead to take him in as he stood with his left arm leaning up against the doorframe of your car. His right arm taut as he held the car door open and away from you both, not wanting it to cause any obstruction.

Underneath his khaki parka you could faintly make out a worn Versace tee as it hung open, unzipped. You internally rolled your eyes. What kind of person wore Versace to fix a car and possibly get covered in oil in the process?

As you rested your head back against the seat behind you, you silently enjoyed the way he looked down at you. It was always quite frustrating, even more so now you weren’t together, how magnetising he was.

“Do me a favour?” He broke the silent stare, “Lean over and pull the lever for me? Don’t quite fancy walking around the car and possibly going down a ditch.”

“My parking isn’t that bad!” You chastised, watching the way his lips twitched. “I’m being courteous of other cars on this tiny lane, given them extra room near the passing place-“

“You got miles of space this side of the dotted line,” he spoke cutting in, eyes wide and filled with humour. “Surprised you didn’t drive down the hill bank the other side to be extra courteous.”

“Can pull the lever yourself now, hope you break your ankle-“

“No you don’t-“

“I’d just leave you here, you know? Take the keys out of your pocket and go.“

“Don’t need to resort to petty crime,” his voice was a bit weaker now but still just as cheeky. “Could’ve just asked for ‘em.”

Your eyes moved towards the glinting keys that he held loosely by the key ring after quickly retrieving them from his pocket. Tauntingly wanting you to reach out from them.

“You’re just going to pull them away, if I grab for ‘em.”

“‘M not,” he stressed with a slight laughter. “You’re always so cynical and defensive. Not even thanked me for driving out to come and get you.”

You didn’t respond, instead you gently reached for the keys, feeling him slightly shift them from your grip as he enjoyed the determination on your face.

Fingers filled with want, you still grabbed for them, successfully but having to be halfway out of the seat and door of your car in order to fulfill your achievement.

When your feet met the ground beneath you, you quickly shifted around to pull your coat on properly. As you moved from the doorway, you watched as Harry dropped his chest onto the driver's seat and reached across the width of the car to pull the lever without needing to walk around the car to do so.

Putting a bit of distance between you, so you didn’t fall foul of staring too long at his bum in his blue jeans, you stalled yourself as he pushed his body up to standing and flipped through a book in his hands.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He said, flicking through what you now knew to be the car’s manual that he must’ve also grabbed from the glove box while inside the car. When you didn’t reply he tore his eyes away from the pages and over to you.

“You’re a good man.”

The honesty in your voice, knocked him. “‘M not, but ‘m trying t’be.”

The two of you stared at each other in the dimming darkness and you knew your gaze matched his sad one.

Clearing his throat, he threw the manual against the driver’s seat. “Anyway out m’ sight, leave the men to the work an’ all tha’. ‘S got heated seats an’ all, if you’re into tha’ sorta thing.”

***

You felt bad watching him out in the cold and dark, a light hanging from the bonnet the only source around him that you imagined was keeping him going.

Sitting in the passenger seat, you let your eyes roam around the black interior of his car that was incredibly spacious and so suitable for your barrage of children.

Your attention turned to outside again as you saw Harry move around from your car and walk up towards his own. His forearm came up to wipe across his mouth, bringing your attention to his facial hair that seemed to be getting thicker and thicker.

Without needing to be prompted, you pressed the button to lower the driver's side window and watched as he pressed his forearms into the resting place you had created for him now there was no window blocking his way.

“Can you get me one of them shammy cloths from out o’the boot please? Jus’ need to double check the dipstick.”

You nodded as he continued, “Would do it m’self but-“ he paused, opening out his hands and showing how dirty his fingers were to you.

“It’s fine,” you said, leaving the car and joining him. “I feel a bit useless anyway,” you admitted.

Both of you remained silent when he joined you at the back of his car, two sets of eyes easily spotting what you were looking for. You opened the packet of two cloths, a horrible peach colour, and passed him one before swapping places with him.

You moved to stand at the side of the car, watching him drop his head inside the boot to see if there was anything else he needed while he was at the other car.

“Since when did you become one of them?”

“One of who?” He asked, his head popping around the side of his car and out of the boot to look at you.

“Your lights on this car are far too bright.”

He rolled his eyes, remaining quiet as he turned back to the contents of his boot. He wasn’t going to respond to your unnecessary nitpicking.

“It’s really nice inside though. Single about me did well then,” you found yourself saying the comment in a biting fashion, unable to hold your tongue.

“Which one?” He bit right back, a clanging heard from the boot, “I asked you if you wanted a credit, you said no.”

You clammed up. He hadn’t taken what you said as a joke. A bit of light humour, you thought, for the road. It was your own fault. You’d become that sort of annoying person you often could get when you found yourself awkwardly doing nothing with yourself. Your delivery of your joke didn’t help either.

“Think I preferred you when you stayed sat, quiet, in the car,” Harry said, head moving out from the boot again so you could read his expressions. Raised eyebrows and twitching lips.

“Piss off,” you glared at him, slowly turning to walk away.

Now it was Harry’s turn to think you were joking, as he shouted after you. “Really gonna be like that after I turned up to save you. That’s twice now I’ve had t’remind yer.”

“You insisted-“

“I know I did,” he spoke around a chuckle. “Now where’re you off to?”

“‘M walking home-“

“Don’t be so fucking ridiculous,” he shouted after you, a frown jarring through his light features when he moved from the open boot to walk closer to you as you turned back around to face him.

***

He managed to coax you to sit back in the car not much longer after you’d stormed off in a huff. Not without a fight, but this was one he was willing to back down on just to get you to stop storming off.

Looking back on it now, the scene was probably quite funny to some passerby or outsider, or it would’ve been if you weren’t so secluded. A female dressed in the most fetching of clothes - sarcasm noted - arguing in the middle of a street. Like some five year old in need of a nap.

Speaking of naps, your eyes shot open wide at the loud bang of your car bonnet being shut. You hadn’t realised that you’d begun to doze until you were abruptly woken.

Bleary vision was quickly erased with a rub of your eyes, as you moved to face the front and pushed your hair from your face.

You were met with Harry busy fiddling with the wires of his lamp. His face dropped down and hair falling so easily into his eyes. He kept walking rather than look into the car to see if you were still with him. Instead, he dropped everything that was in his hands into the boot and proceeded to annoyingly continue to subconsciously show off by pressing a button to close his boot automatically.

Staying wrapped up in one of your kids car blankets, you curled your legs underneath your body and rested your right cheek against the headrest. You continued to be silent as you started to wake up, eyes blinking slowly as you watched Harry in the dark pull open his car door.

He swung his body into the car with an almighty groan, one that caused you in your sleepy haze to softly smile. He looked shattered as he relaxed in his seat and rested his head backwards.

With eyes closed he sighed heavily, letting you take him in without a care. You’d noticed that at some point since your nap he’d removed his coat and now he sat in just his t-shirt and jeans. Both, of which, now looked like they had seen better days.

His brow had begun to perspire as he entered the warmth of his car, the quick switch from the Baltic (slight over exaggeration) temperatures outside to those more welcoming inside the G-Wagon could do that to you.

“Don’t think it’s fucked completely,” he said to break the silence, wiping his face and sweat with the back of his hand and wrist, to try and ensure his oil covered fingers didn’t leave any other stains on his skin.

You enjoyed the way he used the back of his hand, wrist and forearm to wipe at his now slightly clammy skin. Stupidly it emphasised how defined his upper body had become. “Dipstick wasn’t as dry as I was expecting,” he continued, “Just topped her up and ‘m ‘oping she turns over and sounds as good as new.”

Again, silence. His eyes staring straight ahead of him, yours enjoying his profile. God, he had a fantastic nose. It was definitely something that your daughter had inherited and you wondered if it would be a feature that a loved one in her life would sometimes admire in the next generation.

“Got any baby wipes wi’ you?” He cut his eyes to yours from the corner of his vision, taking in the way you were curled up in the passenger seat wearing the car blanket of your eldest son.

His eyes lingered on your shape for a while, dropping down and enjoying the way you had curled yourself up and presented to him in such a cosy vision. It meant you felt relaxed around him and that was all he ever wanted.

It was a nice contrast to the emotive happenings between the two of you that had almost become commonplace of late. A foreign feeling that was so simple, but so exciting.

Without verbal response you reached from your handbag that was in the footwell to have a look inside at the contents.

“Don’t wanna leave this car, been a bit spoiled over the last hour or so. Could do with an upgrade myself as they’re all getting older and need a bit more room,” you spoke as you rummaged around, movements still slightly sluggish.

You were successful in finding what you needed, the rustling of the plastic packaging jarring to your ears. Quickly pulling at the cover overlay, you swiftly pulled out a couple of wipes with such a mom-like finesse that had you balancing them on top of the now closed packet as you turned to face Harry.

“Don’t even think about making it a clause in the divorce,” he joked, eyes looking up at you from underneath his brow. His eyebrows snapped up in shock as you snatched at his hand and abruptly pulled at the baby wipes you’d retrieved from inside your handbag.

The two of you fell silent as you wiped at his left hand first, watching the black of the oil slowly leave his fingers. Breathing was heavy in the empty space as you didn’t dare raise your gaze higher to look into his eyes, that you knew were watching you.

“It’s so attractive, how much of a Mum you are,” he dared to say what he really thought as his humoured expression fell away. “Cleaning my hands up nicely, like ‘m your child that’s made a mess of m’dinner.”

“Harry,” you sighed his name, fidgeting softly in your seat. He chuckled in such a husky way that you found yourself softening regardless of the way it riled you.

Releasing his left hand, you reached straight for his right. Seeing the way he caught himself and stopped it before it fell against his lap. He smoothly reached for you, brushing your hair behind your shoulders as it began to curtain across the right side of your face.

“Last time m’hands were this dirty, you were licking and sucking ‘em clean.”

You felt your face begin to heat up from his brazenness.

“Are you blushing for me?” He whispered, his left hand moving along your jaw, to tilt your head upwards. He had a hold of your jaw, slightly rougher than before and while your face played ball, your eyes did not. “‘S been ages since you blushed fo’me.”

Again the sound of breathing filled the car, Harry’s gaze all over your features before his other words punctuated the air, “Look a’me.”

As your eyes moved sharply to the right, you looked at the way he’d lolled his head back. His thumb slowly pulled at your bottom lip, watching the way it softly bounced from his touch, before he lifted it to trace faintly over your Cupid’s bow.

“Missed your lips,” he admitted, enjoying the light puffs of breath that bounced against the pad of his thumb. Before you could think, you’d taken his thumb inside your mouth, an appreciative groan leaving his lips.

You felt the way his fingers cupped under your chin, gently stroking at your skin, silently caressing. Teeth nipping playfully against the skin of his thumb as you pulled away.

“How much?” You asked, lips turning to ghost against the inside of his hand.

His eyes lingered as you watched him nudge his chin up slightly, silently asking for you to come to him.

You sucked in a heavy breath as you leaned into him, the dimming ceiling light of the car slowly allowing darkness to swallow you both. A faint smile nudged your lips as your nose fell against his top lip.

He scooped you under his arm - lining you up better - hands trying to hold you as near to him as he could as you leaned over the centre console of the car to be closer to him.

“Enough,” he husked, before adding, “Your nose is cold,” in a passing tone, lips against your temple now. Breathing deeply through your nose you let him pull you even closer, unable to believe that you weren’t close enough. Muffled apologies left your lips, about how your nose was cold.

The soft drag of his lips to yours pulled you under a haze that swept away your apologies and into a tender reacquaintance. His lips were slightly shaking against yours and you weren’t sure if it was to do with the cold that he had found himself in or if it were due to his nervousness.

Regardless he was steady. Knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted. Pulling kiss after kiss from you in the slowest fashion that you felt yourself beginning to warm up.

“‘S nice to have a little kiss,” he gently spoke against the corner of your mouth. “Missed you treating me to ‘em.”

“I think you just know exactly what to say,” you murmured as you allowed him to continue ghosting his lips over yours. “Know exactly what you're doing.”

“‘F you’re suggesting that I’m trying it on,” he murmured against your lips, “I absolutely fucking am.”

“Would never have guessed,” you looked at him with heavy eyelids, head now nudged back slightly to enable you to see his entire face. He smirked at you, eyes blinking slowly as he willed you to him once more.

His hand was secure around the back of your neck, fingers messily woven through your hair. His other hand gently massaged at the top of your back, over your fetching loungewear that you had chosen to drive home in.

“‘S it working?”

“What do you think?”

Harry’s eyes dropped in a slow blink as he felt the way your hand lowered down his chest and abdomen, which was wavering slightly from his nervous anticipation.

Dropping your head down to his chest, you left a kiss to his pec as you mumbled and felt the button of his jeans giveway to your fingers and thumb. “I am grateful, you know?”

“Yeah?”

The ruffle of your hair against the cotton of his tee filled the car, him recognising it as you nodding.

“Me too,” he assured.

And he was. Grateful.

For the life he’d had with you up until this point.

The family the two of you had created. The one you were so fiercely fighting for. Messily and viciously, all from a good place. The best place.

He licked at his dry lips, leaving his mouth to hang open slightly as he watched you descend down to his semi that was hidden in the confines of his jeans.

“Both of us need warming up,” he mused, his hands sliding from your hair and down your back, slowly and gently to your slightly raised bum from how you had placed yourself over the center console. “In’t that right?”

A dull slap of his hand against your leggings-clad bum had you rocking back as you felt his hands slide under the waistband to massage at your cheek.

Swallowing heavy, Harry tilted back his head and even through his hooded eyes he caught his blissed expression in the rear view mirror, as he felt you take his balls into your mouth and gently suckle.

He rasped your name as he basked in the dirty licks, heavily laden with saliva from your watering mouth before you took him into your throat. Obscene sounds from your actions wove between his heavy breathing and quick pants.

“Fuck me, darling.”

With his hand that was still against your bum, he pulled you closer. Hands desperate to have purchase of something as you gently but messily sucked and licked, desperate to feel the tickle of his pubic hair against the tip of your nose to know you’d successfully taken him all the way down.

His breathing was shaky, a quick hiss leaving his lips as he felt the way your nails dug into his denim clad thighs from his previous movements to try and hold steady. The position wasn’t ideal, but the feeling of your shaking breath against his wet cock as you nosed against his jeans had him smiling.

As you turned your head slightly to look at him from the corner of your vision, you noticed the way he was looking down at you. How powerful he seemed in that moment as you were slightly beneath him.

The thought changed though with the way his hand came up to your face, his thumb against your wet lips for the shortest time before he cradled the back of your head to help pull you back up and avoid any mishaps.

He tugged you forward to crush his mouth to yours with pleased hums as he tasted himself on you. Lips smacking as he pulled kiss after kiss from your mouth, smiling at the eagerness of you both.

His hands joined yours as they pulled at his jeans, his hips lifting in the seat and his arms strong as he pushed the denim and underwear down to sit closer to his knees.

“Mm,” he hummed, as his bare bum cheeks met the heated seat beneath them. “Put the seats on fo’me.”

“Don’t say I don’t ever treat you nicely.”

He huskily chuckled as he brought your lips back to him again. “Nice an’ warm,” he lazily spoke, acknowledging the heated seats. “Jus’ for me.”

And he knew every bit of his words meant the double entendre that you had caught,looking on as you pulled away to sink back into your own seat

Looking over at him, you noticed the lust behind his eyes as he slowly pumped his hand up and down his wet and aching cock when you sunk back into your own seat and watched his head loll against the headrest once more. His nostrils flared as he bit down on his bottom lip and nudged his chin up, getting you silently to come to him once more when he’d seen your movements in removing your own bottoms had ended.

“Wouldn’t do this for anyone else, y’know that?” You said around your messy kiss as you raised your legs and felt his hands guide you to straddle him. Hands splayed across your lower back and the top half of your bum as he secured you to him.

“Should bloody ‘ope not.”

As you sat above him, you could feel him there. Sprung back and wet. Your mouths rested against each other, heavy and open. Eyes moving to and fro over each other’s.

“Been at this too long to start sharing now.”

Your hips moved forward at his words, with the smallest of motions but it was enough to make his cock glide between your lips. His expression was one of immeasurable pleasure regardless of how little the touch.

Deep down you knew you didn’t have time for this sort of behaviour. The kind where you revelled in the nudge of him against your clit, and the way it caused you to gasp lightly while your brow creased and forehead fell against his.

“Take it,” he encouraged as you rolled your hips on him. “Let me in.”

Heavy breathing and shaking hands, you held Harry’s eyes as you reached behind you to take him in your hand.

Wrapping your fingers around his length, you raised yourself, feeling him shuffle down slightly in his seat to help ensure you didn’t bump your head as you lifted. Fingers gave way when he lined up nicely, slipping only his tip inside of you.

This stretch was one like no other. A burn that you savoured as much as the expression that welcomed you from the desire felt by the only man who had ever made you feel this way. His one hand crawled up your back, to cup around your neck, anchoring you to him.

When you were fully seated shaky exhales bounced against each other’s lips. Every tremble of you above him felt so vividly by Harry. The way your thighs shook from the small confines you found yourself in, to the quiver of your fingers against his neck and jaw.

“You’re so big,” your moan was feeble. Embarrassing in many ways. Especially given the amount of times you’d done this with him.

“Mm,” he agreed. “‘S cause ‘m so hot for you. Got me so hard. Always have.”

“Always will-“

“Always will,” he confirmed.

Your moan was thick as it left your throat, his words enough to get you to roll against him and have you clit drag pleasing against his pelvis.

He groaned, knowing that’s what you were doing too. Having been in this position so many times before. No one had ever had you this way, and you knew no one ever would either. A pleasure this giving was one of familiarity. Aided so deeply by feeling.

When your mouth met his again the only word to describe your kiss was sinful. His tongue waiting to meet yours, flicking so easily and far too filthily for those on the cusp of middle age.

But he still had it.

The gleaming boyish gaze and curling smile. Could charm his way into any heart and into any pair of knickers. But the ones he had chosen time and time again were yours. Regardless of their sexiness at times.

“Yes,” you gasped, pulling away from his mouth and feeling his hands encourage the knocking of your hips against his.

You were close, nowhere to go and not wanting to go anywhere. How you had made it here so quickly, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was the surroundings, how you potentially could get caught. Maybe it was because your partner - husband - just knew you so well.

His eyes didn’t want to leave you as they admired the flushed skin you were beginning to show and the gleaming, plush lips that you were rolling into your mouth to hide your pleasure.

“That’s it, fuck me,” his voice was hushed, quick in its delivery. “‘S wha’ it’s all about,” he hummed, as you rocked your hips over his. Knocking his head back against the headrest once more.

As he looked down his nose at you, he watched as your eyes fell to your navel, taking in each roll of your hips. Your expression dropped with realisation, slightly pained. “What’s wrong?”

Looking up at him, you wish you hadn’t. You wished you’d kept your eyes down to see the ripple of his abdomen each time your body flexed around him. That way it wasn’t doused in emotion, it was just raw pleasure that lived in your mind.

“We shouldn’t be doing this anymore. Needs to be the last time.”

A mix of a breathy laugh and scoff left his lips as he urged you to restart your hips that were starting to stall above him, “Bit late for tha’ now, don’t yer think?”

Falling against him, you hid your face feeling his lips over the shell of your ear and against your hair. His hand gently stroked at your hair, lips moving to your temple and pressing affection kisses that did nothing but make you feel worse.

“Do you want t’stop? Mm?” He asked, feeling your hips so tight against his, but your core so open that he hoped you would say no. Widening his thighs he pressed his feet into the footwell, seeking momentum to meet your hips with his own.

“‘S okay to love me still,” he groused, feeling your chin tremble from his words. “‘S okay to let me love you still. This is okay, us just doing this is okay.”

It wasn’t okay and he knew. He also knew everything he was saying - every single word - was just a way to satiate you.

So, you let them. Swallowed the lump in your throat and inhaled deeply.

His words were cut short as he groaned, “Sit up for me, fuck me properly.”

Sitting yourself up, you felt the way Harry’s hands moved so that the backs of his fingers were smoothing against your lower stomach. Sweaty palm turned, he pressed it gently down your stomach and let his thumb finger your clit.

The softest frown hit your brow, as his thumb slowly rubbed in a downwards motion at your sensitivity. From his actions you felt a warmth pool around both him and you, Harry groaning appreciatively as he felt it too.

“Yeah,” he stressed the word as you gripped at his t-shirt which sat against his stomach. Cotton in handfuls as you scrunched the fabric. “‘S tha’ nice- good?”

You nodded.

“‘S it enough?”

You nodded with more fervour. Eyes holding his as you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and scratched along his right forearm as he continued to gently swipe at your wet clit.

The abruptness of the rock to your hips showed itself as the warmth within your belly grew. Eyes now hooded, you were unable to stop them from closing as your mouth parted to desperately say, “Don’t stop.”

And you didn’t know who you were talking to; yourself or Harry.

Harry responded with a moan so deep that you clenched down around him, causing his free hand to reach up and squeeze harshly against your hips.

“‘M going to come so hard for you ‘f you keep doing that,” he gritted, breathing shallow as he felt his chest constrict. “Like tha’, just like that.”

His words were low, and like just moments before you weren’t sure if they were for him or you, but they had you moaning his name. Head dropping against his, his hand gripping at the back of your neck.

With one hard roll of your hips, you cried out, forehead against his chin and mouth fallen. His hand squashed between your bodies as you shook and convulsed.

Pliant for him, you were too dazed to move as you felt his arm wrap securely around your back and hold you to him, tight.

A merciless and repeated smack of his hips upwards, which you were sure would have the car rocking, made you aware of him seeking his release. He moaned your name, as he pulled you down to him, his orgasm shooting into you.

His heavy breathing was hot against your sweltering skin when you finally came to, his grunts melding into your neck as your core continued to flutter in the aftermath of your own release.

His hands somewhat selfishly and most definitely greedily moved you against him, both crooning at the sensitive rush that met you before he lifted you to aid himself with slipping out.

Cold air met his sensitivity, as he nuzzled against you. Hand crawling up your back, under your shirt and feeling your damp skin peel away from his own as he moved his hand up and down.

“Want to try out the back wi’me after this,” he hummed, brushing your hair off your face with his other hand. His words were heavy as they pressed into the skin of your cheek while he still tried to catch his breath.

As much as you knew you should, you didn’t even try to stop yourself from nodding.

***

Looking forward to hearing all of your thoughts! x

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x y/n #my writing #divorce!harry

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alirhi · 3 years ago

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This is oddly fun lol

Let's see how many of these I can churn out before I get distracted or need a break! (pff. like I need an excuse to watch the show again. Despite its flaws, I really, really love TFATWS, guys)

Without further ado, let's get down to it!

Episode 2: The Star-Spangled Man

I'm pretty sure I'm on record when it comes to my undying hate for John Walker, yes? So obviously, Bucky's grumpiness 100% stays 😂

I'm not really a fan of how much emphasis they put on the shield. I can see it as a catalyst for Bucky to go confront Sam, yes, but he wouldn't keep going "shield shield shield" like a broken record. Bucky has consistently been shown to be an empathetic man. I can't believe for a second that he'd be barking at Sam about having no right to give up the shield; he'd ask why. Sam's got shit to do, so he'd get impatient and not answer.

"Why'd you give up so easily? If you were overwhelmed, I could've helped you-" "You've been ignoring me. Like now, how you're ignoring me walking away from you." "Well, you weren't texting me about this." "You think I needed your permission?!" "No, but I was right there with Steve while he was learning what it meant to be Cap. I wouldn't mind helping you get used to-" "Then go teach him." A vague gesture toward the "Cap is back" posters. Bucky makes a face. "Steve passed the mantle to you. You fought with him. You earned it. That little shit didn't." "What do you want me to do about it?" "Just tell me why, Sam. I mean it. I just wanna understand." "Not now, Buck. I've got shit to do. You see me heading for a plane right now, right?" "This is important!" "So is this." Sam tells him about the Flag Smashers, we get our silly Big Three/Gandalf conversation.

I'm sorry, but that whole jumping from the plane scene is funny as hell, and I love all the nods they added in to jokes from the press tours that brought us this show in the first place (like ripping the sleeve off his jacket lol). I don't think I'd change a single thing from the Big Three convo to Bucky joining Sam in the warehouse.

"You're doing the staring thing again." "You're staring at your watch," Bucky points out. He knows it's linked to Redwing, he's just pointing out how dumb that line is in that situation. They're there for recon lol. They're meant to be looking around.

I don't...particularly care about the other common gripe here? Meaning, "Bucky's a civilian, so why is he allowed to randomly jump in on a military mission?" Bucky's also known in this universe as an Avenger, just like Sam, so I don't think anyone would really bat an eye at him joining. Also, I have my own agenda related to Bucky's apparent freedom to walk in and out of military/government things.

What does bug me (as funny as it is) is Bucky's animosity toward Redwing. Again... Bucky is a certified nerd. Always has been. If anything, he'd be fascinated by Redwing and Sam would constantly have to slap him away because he's leaning in too close trying to see the tiny watch monitor. "I don't trust Redwing" is just old man griping "I don't trust your newfangled technology" and that... that's not Bucky.

And that "we're not assassins" dig, and then laughing when Bucky gets upset? That's not Sam. Both of these men have shown a remarkable amount of empathy, and Sam has a background in helping traumatized vets. If he cared enough about Bucky to be texting him after Steve left, he'd care enough not to make callous jokes about his time as The Winter Soldier, whether he knows the full story or not.

The fight on top of moving trucks looks cool, but makes no logical sense. I keep trying to think of a way to explain this from a story perspective, rather than a lazy "it looks cool!" filmmaking one, and I'm coming up blank. Anyone with half a brain would have pulled over, had the fight, and then taken off. It was a fun sequence, though... Eh. I'll leave it.

When Karli breaks Redwing, Bucky doesn't say "I always wanted to do that." Again, it's funny - I love the jabs about that stupid robo bird XD - but not Bucky. In my version, he smirks and says "You're so gonna regret that."

"You were kinda getting your asses kicked before we got there." Is immediately followed by Bucky staring him down and asking, "And... how did that fight end for you?" Sam adds, "I don't see them in custody. Are-are they following in a van?" He looks around, sarcastically searching for another vehicle. Walker and Hoskins grimace at each other, grudgingly conceding that point.

credit to @dailycelebs

Seeing Walker, and having to listen to his stupid pro-government rhetoric, makes Bucky think about Steve. When we cut from the Flag Smashers back to Bucky and Sam and the closeup of Bucky's pensive face, we hear 1940s Steve angrily telling 1940s Bucky about how the higher ups in the army had already written off the POWs and were going to leave them to die. "I love our country, Buck," he laments, "but what do I do when I'm not too sure anymore about the people who run it?"

"What you always do," is young Bucky's answer, "stand for what's right, not who's in power."

Perfect lead-in to the conversation about handling things themselves.

When Sam meets Isaiah, and hears his story, not only is he horrified and heartsick for him, but he also begins to see Bucky in a new light. He's seeing Bucky's face, the way he tries to hide his emotions and not make this conversation about him, and he's putting things together. He's still upset at being out of the loop, but he's seeing more of the situation than just "omg black super soldier". When Bucky says "he'd already been through enough," Sam asks quietly, "like you?"

The racist cop comes back before Bucky can answer, to arrest him for missing his appointment with Raynor.

ngl guys, I was so moved by the difference in how that cop treated Sam (before knowing he's Important) vs how he treated Bucky (knowing that the government views him as a violent, if pardoned, criminal). He approaches Sam with his hand on his gun, eager to defend Bucky; "is this guy bothering you?" Just because they're having a heated conversation. Then, when he sees that there's a warrant for Bucky, he approaches timidly, apologizes, treats him gently and politely. By "moved," btw, I don't mean "it was so sweet." I mean "this is fucking sick, and very, very realistic." White cops see a white guy and treat him with respect regardless of his actual criminal record, while being openly hostile towards an innocent black man without even knowing who he is, just because he's black. Moments like this made me applaud Spellman.

"You, too, Sam - That wasn't a request" is Sam's first sign that there's something off about Raynor.

Look, again... The couples therapy banter is funny because Sebastian and Anthony are funny, but that scene, from a storytelling and a mental health standpoint, is atrocious. Without some underlying reason behind her actions, Raynor is just a pointlessly terrible therapist.

Rather than insulting Bucky from the outset, Sam is angry with Raynor for violating Bucky's privacy by not only introducing herself as his therapist, but forcing a "couples" session without her patient's consent. With his background pre-Avenging, he knows this shit shouldn't fly. He immediately points out how unprofessional she's being.

Raynor doesn't bother listening - the fuck does she care, really? She shrugs and casually admits it's "slightly unprofessional" but proceeds anyway.

"Whatever's eating at him?" Sam scoffs. "Did you really just say that to a WWII veteran and the world's longest-serving POW with complex PTSD? Did I hear that right? I've had, maybe, like five conversations with this man since we met, and even I know he's been through some shit and-" "Sam," Bucky tries to interrupt, looking uncomfortable. With his crushing guilt, he has an easier time dealing with insults than someone coming to his defense. "No," Sam snaps. "If the HIPAA Slayer over here wants to drag me into this, she's damn well gonna hear what I have to say!" He turns back to Raynor and demands, "Is this how you've been treating him this whole time? Downplaying what he's been through and making a grown-ass man sound like a sulking teenager?" Raynor keeps her cool, but barely. Visibly frustrated and annoyed, she ignores Sam's tirade and tries to force the conversation back onto the track she wants it on. Bucky's embarrassed and doesn't know how to react to any of this, so he still makes that little "he would talk less" jab. Sam, seeing that he's not going to get anywhere with him until they're away from this bitch, glowers and plays along. We get our silly/angry banter.

After their argument with Walker, Sam finally confronts Bucky about what really happened to him.

"He meant HYDRA; HYDRA used to be my people." "Were they?" Sam asks, stopping him and looking him in the eye, not letting him look away or deflect. "Steve was under the impression that they were your captors. I was under the impression that the Wakandans spent two years deprogramming you so no one could use you the way HYDRA did ever again." "I-" Startled, not expecting that, Bucky stutters a little and admits, "Yeah, I... That's true, I guess." "You guess?" "Does it matter? Sam rolls his eyes. "I dunno, does it matter that you were a slave for most of the 20th century?" "I doubt it matters much to my victims." "HYDRA's victims," Sam corrects firmly. "Just like you." Bucky fidgets; he doesn't know what to do or say. No one since Steve has even so much as insinuated that Bucky wasn't 100% culpable for what he did while under HYDRA control. "Look," Sam sighs, "I don't particularly like you. I don't hate you, but I'm not your biggest fan." "...Thanks?" "I just need you to know where I stand-" "Yeah, got it-" "-So you know I'm not biased like Steve when I say you had no choice. I don't know your story, but I know no one flips on a dime from docile and plagued with guilt to an unstoppable killing machine and back without some serious psychological damage behind that. I'm not saying you're an innocent little bunny, but I don't think you're a monster." "Thanks," Bucky croaks, more sincerely this time, and a bit choked up. He clears his throat and looks distinctly uncomfortable as he grumbles, "but to catch these guys, we may need to talk to a monster." Sam cringes. "I was afraid you'd say that."

#sebastian stan #anthony mackie #tfatws #tfatws critical #fan ramblings #show rewrite #if i'd written it #episode 2

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djmarinizelablog · 4 years ago

Note

“I didn’t mean to hurt you”

Prompt list (pick a prompt with your fave ship and send it to me; I’ll write something about it)

Heya, Anon, you didn’t write which pairing, so I’ll take this as a free-for-all! So without further ado, here’s a Levi x Reader for you: [update: the entire fic is now up on ao3]

Levi Ackerman is your mentor and you’re his student. That’s all there is to it.

But love happens, anyway.

-------------------------------------------

He invites you to hang out the moment classes have started and you say yes in a heartbeat. You haven’t seen him in weeks, haven’t talked to him at all during the break. The café is almost empty at this time and you’re just sitting by yourself, coming up with a new piece about your writing. And then someone calls out your name.

You’d know that voice anywhere so you look up and see Levi coming in.

The smile in your face disappears.

He’s with another person. The first thing you notice is their hands clasped together.

"I want you to meet Petra." He introduces you to her, and you have to plaster the smile back.

You take Petra’s hand and shake it. The café server asks if you want to get something. Out of frustration, you end up ordering a ridiculously expensive affogato for later. You look back over your shoulder and see the two of them still holding hands.

"So…” Petra attempts to start a conversation when you get back to your seat. “Levi has told me that you're a budding writer.”

“I got conned,” you say, and Petra laughs. Your sense of humor has definitely improved.

Petra has a pretty face and is very polite. Levi tells you that she’s a fashion designer. Never thought he’d be the type to fall for that. But Petra looks like an angel, acts like one. She touches him tenderly, rubs his thigh as she tells a story, marking him as hers and you're there just sitting right across him. Apparently they’ve been dating for quite awhile now. Levi has made it official just a few weeks back, according to Petra. If you count the days in the calendar correctly, it happened around the time when you told him you were going abroad.

“I never thought he’d actually put a label on us.” Petra claps her hands giddily. “He’s just not the type to do that.”

“Yeah, that’s really out of his character,” you mutter.

Petra then invites you to grab some drinks with them. You ask for your affogato for takeout. The night seems long, lights dim and some obscure playlist is playing in the background as you watch them talk about their plans together. You have never downed so many beers within a span of an hour. After a while, Petra then excuses herself, gives him a peck on the cheek, and says it was nice meeting you. She needs to leave early to catch the last train. Levi offers to walk her to the station, but for some reason, Petra declines.

“You two should catch up,” she points out. Levi turns to look at you and your heart is ready to break. You take out your already melted affogato and start eating it.

He goes back to where you’re sitting and maintains the silence, maintains the distance. Now you’re left nursing your hangover with your stupid ice cream coffee.

Levi then leans forward. “Shit, I just wanted you to know—”

“Know what?” you snap.

“Know about her,” he says quietly. “She hasn’t met anyone else yet. I wanted you to be the first.”

It’s pathetic, the way you’re eating your dessert and crying at the same time.

You're waiting to hear him say, I’m sorry.

You want him to say, I didn’t mean to hurt you.

But it never arrives. He just watches you the entire time. You’re aware that you’re also hurting him just by choosing to leave.

#levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #mi #djmarinizela #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #petra ral #rivetra

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junggoku · 5 years ago

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Lemon Curls and Latte Art - Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

book: Open Heart

pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Nina Valentine)

word count: 6,679

summary: Ethan’s been having a tough time with a case and desperately needs some coffee and time away from the hospital. His small impromptu trip to his favorite coffeeshop may just become more than he expected. (Alternatively: local doctor man goes to get coffee. Gets roasted for 5 minutes straight by cute barista.) A coffeeshop au

A/N: Soooo first and foremost, I’m super excited about this. I’ve been surprised at the lack of coffeeshop au’s in this fandom so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I’d like to give all my love to the wonderful @namkook for keeping me sane through this whole project and for helping me every step of the way. I love you and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you for putting up with my constantly annoying you with this. I typically don’t like my writing, I’m so proud of this one and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did when working on it. Without further ado, buckle in and enjoy! She’s a long one wheew

Sometimes it was easier to just drown it all out. The rustling of the nurses as they moved about. The moans and groans of patients as they anxiously waited for their diagnoses. The shrill voices of interns trying to suck up to him to better polish up on their resumes, instead of focusing on their damn jobs.

On that particularly busy afternoon, Dr. Ethan Ramsey felt it was especially crucial that he drown out all the background noises and forget about his surroundings for a moment, if he was going to hang onto his sanity.

He had been pouring over a patient file all morning, having reached an impasse. When something like this happened, it was best for him to go out and clear his head. Sighing heavily, Ethan pushes out of his leather chair, leaving the mountains of scans and paperwork behind him as he closes the door to his office with a resounding thud.

-----------------

Day 1

The chime of the bell above the door signaled his arrival into Derry Roasters, a soft click of the hinges punctuating through the air as his eyes adjusted to the gentle lighting in the quaint coffee shop.

The scene was completely opposite the hospital, with almost all of the tables here being empty save for an elderly man in the corner with his book. It seemed the cafe was experiencing a quiet afternoon, soft music playing from the small speakers lodged in the ceilings.

Whenever Ethan was stuck with a case he couldn’t quite figure out, he found himself wandering to the coffeehouse, a humble mom and pop establishment that made decent coffee. It was a step up from the caffeinated dishwater the hospital cafeteria served and he didn’t hate it at the very least. It was also close enough to the hospital that he could get to it by foot, but far enough that none of the gaggle of bright-eyed parrots interns would follow him to kiss his ass.

Crossing the distance of the room up to the front, Ethan stops right before the register. Having seen not one soul behind the counter, his hand found its way to the small silver bell waiting by the tips bucket, ringing it albeit impatiently. There was normally always someone waiting up at the front, the usual barista－a short and kindly old lady, her slightly stout face adding to the welcoming atmosphere－felt it necessary to be present at all times to best serve customers so they did not have to wait long. So much for that. Their service is going to shit.

A bright ding reverberates throughout the shop, ricocheting off the walls. With a purse of his lips, he waits for a few minutes for someone to respond to the bell, the dimple in between his eyebrows growing more prominent the longer time stretches.

About to forgo the coffee and just head back, his ears pick up a foreign sound coming from somewhere. Is that...singing?

Singing was perhaps too generous a term. There was a faint humming emanating from behind the door that led to the back, and his ears tickled as it continued for a few more seconds, before the door swung open and a figure stepped out.

Ethan’s train of thought stutters for a brief second as ice blue eyes meet a warm chocolate brown, wide and doe-like staring up at him in surprise.

She’s new.

Silence envelops the room and Ethan finds himself studying the woman in front of him as he does with everyone, an occupational habit he’s honed over the years.

Long, dark brown hair cascades over her shoulder like a wave, a pair of chocolate brown eyes to match the curtains as they peer up at him, a hint of curiosity in them. The new barista is donning a polo the color of mustard paired with the black apron of the coffeeshop. His eyes glance over the silver name tag that brandishes the name “Nina”. Next to the tag, a small frog pin sits crookedly, the silver lining a bit dim from what he expects comes from overwear.

In his musings, he doesn’t notice the barista, Nina, pursing her lips, “Are you going to order something or are you just gonna stare at me all day?”

Shaken out of his thoughts, he raises a brow at the bland tone of her voice, before deciding to ignore it, “The Vienna.”

Slipping his card from his wallet, he sets it down on the counter as she rings up his order, sliding the piece of plastic back to him once she’s finished.

Wordlessly, he starts moving over to a table nearby when she pipes up, “What? No ‘thank you’?”

He spins around, a brow quirked as he meets her eyes. The slight curl of her lips tells him she’s mocking him and his lack of a response.

“Thank you.” He speaks, voice flat and face unimpressed. Her lips twitch.

“Gee, you’re a real charmer, aren’t you. I do need to know if you want this here or to go,” Eyes lit with mirth, Ethan itches to end this interaction and head back to the hospital. So much for that break.

“To go.”

The smirk doesn’t leave her face as she turns around and gets to work, and Ethan is eternally grateful for the conversation being over.

A few minutes pass by before he hears his name being called. Striding to the pick up station where the barista placed his order of Vienna in a styrofoam cup, her cheeks lifted into a winning smile, one she must use on all her customers.

Ethan picks it up promptly, the desire to get back to work coursing through him strongly the minute he glimpses at her face (his mistake) and finds that she’s still staring at him with a strange amusement lighting her eyes.

“Hope it's to your liking, Dr. Ramsey.”

“How do you know my name?”

Nina raises her brow, and throws a look at the elegant Dr. Ethan Ramsey, etched into the fabric of his white doctor coat, “I’m assuming that’s your name since it says so on your coat. If you were trying to go incognito, maybe lose the coat next time.”

With a wink, the barista spins around and disappears behind the door to the back, not giving him time to answer to her quip. Something pricks at the back of his mind as he watches her go. Casting a quick glance down at his coffee cup, the letters Ethonk are scrawled on the curved surface, and he couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh or groan. More the latter probably.

Sighing for what was possibly the millionth time today, Ethan tightens his grip on the cup and makes his way out, feeling more annoyed than when he had come. I’m not coming back here.

--------------

Day 2

Why am I here?

He sincerely had no idea why he found himself lingering at the front of Derry Roasters a few weeks later, shoes avoiding the crunch of leaves under his feet as a delicate autumn breeze curls through his hair and rustles the pages of the book he had nestled in his arm.

Ethan had initially planned to not come here again for a long while, having no desire to run into that impudent barista from last time, Nina, her name was.

Annoying.

Shaking away the thought, he pushed the front door open and strode into the cafe, the click of the latch bolt falling back into its frame announcing his arrival once more. The shop was fairly empty again at this time, being so long after the busy lunch rush hour.

As usual, Ethan made his way up to the register, but his steps faltered for a half second when he noticed a new addition to the counter by the pick up area: a small potted cactus, its thorny arms appearing almost golden bathed in the gentle autumn light streaming in through the windows.

A little curious, he continues walking and taps the bell once when he makes it to the front.

Unlike before, the door leading to the back whipped open almost immediately after the ding, and out came the petite barista, long brown hair tied into a loose ponytail today. Small specks of what looks like cream powder dotting her cheek and on the sleeves of her peach-colored blouse, the brunette saunters over and plants herself directly across him.

Chocolate doe eyes instantly find his blue ones and Nina flashes him an amiable smile. Or it would be amiable if it weren’t for the twinkle of mischief he catches in her gaze. He bites back a mental groan.

Ethan opens his mouth, prepared to just tell her his order quickly so he could leave, when she beats him to it.

“Did you see Henry?” Her voice is a little hushed, conspiratorial. Bemused, his eyebrows furrow in place of a question.

“...Henry?”

The barista nods her head in the direction of the pick up station, eyes darting to the potted plant he saw earlier and back to him, “Henry!”

He’s not sure how to respond. Nina waits for a few beats before crossing her arms across her chest, ogling him for a reaction, “We just got it yesterday. I thought it’d be nice to spruce up the place,” She leans forward, her apron brushing against the register.

“You don’t feel a connection with it?” She pursed her lips, brown eyes twinkling with mirth. The furrow in his brows deepens, not quite enjoying the way she was eyeing him.

“Why would I feel any connection to a cactus?”

“Well, you are one emotionally,”

Ethan lets out a short scoff, his expression wholly unimpressed, “We’ve had a grand total of two interactions.”

“And the two were all I needed to know everything,” Nina tosses him a tiny smirk, seemingly relishing in getting under his skin, a frown beginning to mar his features. How tedious.

Sighing deeply and already feeling exhausted, Ethan ignores the quip and barrels forth, “The Vienna.” He tosses his card on the surface of the counter, almost impatient as she gingerly grabs it and rings him up, saying nothing more all the while.

Not giving her an opening, Ethan snatches his card out of her grasp the minute she’s done, and turns around to find an empty table far away from the register.

“I’ll bring it over to you when it’s done,” He hears behind him as he continues moving.

Settling into a table in the back corner of the coffeeshop, Ethan sinks into the leather chair and opens his history book, determined to ignore and forget his interactions with the barista so he can take a break. Why he came back here when he already predicted this happening was beyond him. He won’t repeat the mistake again.

A few minutes later, Ethan feels a presence in front of him and peeks from his book to find Nina placing his cup of Vienna on the table. Turning his attention back to his pages, he reads another line from Robert Service before glancing back up.

She was still standing there. Hands clasped together in front of her chest, Nina was peering down at him, blinking innocently.

“...Is there something wrong?”

“No,” She answers, giving a slight shake of her head in emphasis. She still didn’t move.

“...”

“...Did you want something?”

Her expression shifts promptly, fixing a saccharine smile his way and a sense of dread creeps up his spine.

“Well you see,” Nina sweeps an arm around the expanse of the room, where only one other patron beside him was sitting in the opposite corner, tapping away on their laptop, “no one’s really here.”

He feels a budding headache pricking, “And what does that have to do with me?” He asks, tone flat.

Her large smile widens a little more, “I’m bored and you’re the most entertaining thing here.”

There’s a brief moment where the two of them did nothing, a staredown ensuing with the only sound coming from the ceiling speakers and the tap, tap, tap of the laptop.

Pressure behind his eyes growing, he brings up a hand to scratch at his stubble. Yes, he really regrets coming here today.

“Well what do you want to do then?” The defeat in his voice is evident as Nina starts shuffling over to the chair opposite him, appearing so pleased with herself Ethan could only breathe out another sigh.

“If it’s cool with you-”

“It’s not,”

“-I’m just gonna hang out here with you,” She plops into the leather recliner and beams at him, eyes scrunching into two crescent moons. Huh. “Besides, I’m doing you a favor really.”

His annoyance fading just a smidge, he eyes her, distrustful. Closing his book with a small thud, Ethan leans back, sinking further into the plush material.

“How on earth is you neglecting your work and bothering me when I’m trying to read you doing me a favor?”

Nina flicks her chin at the cover of his book. The glossy surface catches the warm rays of sunshine drifting in through the windows, the text Comrades!: A History of World Communism almost swallowed whole by the natural light.

“I am doing you a favor,” The steam from the coffee mug wafts up and swirls in the air between them, “I’m sure you’re already busy being a doctor full-time, I’m giving you a chance to take a break from your communist endeavors so you can actually enjoy your down time.”

Seeing no point in disagreeing when she looked determined to stay there, Ethan takes a sip of his Vienna, the liquid still warm and settles pleasantly on his tongue. Over the top of the cup, he catches Nina leaning forward slightly as though waiting for his reaction.

Putting the mug back down, he turns his head to the window, content on ignoring her still and watching the people strolling up and down the street outside.

Her quiet voice breaks him out of his reverie, “What’s it like? Being a doctor?”

At the question, Ethan turns his gaze on the barista, finding her peering at him with a mix of curiosity and...admiration?

He shrugs, “It’s alright.”

“...That’s it?” Her head tilts to the side, eyes widening as she silently urges him to elaborate. He’s not sure why he’s humoring her, but he relents and continues.

“It’s...it gives me opportunities to figure out the mysteries of the human body. To find ways to conquer and defeat the things that defeat us,” He keeps his gaze on her, watching as the brunette follows his every word like he’s telling her some universal truth.

Nina nods, seemingly soaking in his explanation and satisfied with it, “That sounds really cool. You’re like a hero,” She laughs a little, a tenderness in it that confuses Ethan, but he doesn’t say anymore on it. Hardly.

A beat of silence falls over them again. There’s no awkwardness in it though and Ethan’s content to let it stretch on.

“I wanted to be a doctor when I was younger.”

The spell is broken and Ethan’s attention is now directed solely at her, the barista tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. When he doesn’t speak, she continues, “Always wanted to help people. It just seemed like the perfect job for me to defend those who were fighting for their lives. For their second chances.”

The small frog pin on her apron gleams as she fidgets, light from outside hitting its metallic surface.

“Why didn’t you?” He finally asks, albeit hesitantly, “Become a doctor.”

A wistful look crosses her face and she smiles, “My brother’s health deteriorated and he collapsed as I was graduating from high school. Things just never worked out,” Nina pauses and considers the room, Ethan noticing for the first time that the other customer had left, no more tap tap-ing sound to be heard.

“But it’s whatever. I like working here. And at least I get to keep my sleep schedule,” She jokes, eyes landing on him again.

Ethan doesn’t speak for a long moment, holding her gaze. At the lack of reaction, Nina begins to squirm, appearing nervous, but doesn’t prod him.

Finally, he finds his voice, uncharacteristically timid, “This place is lucky to have you.”

A blink and a beat later, and a glowing grin stretches across Nina’s face. She chuckles, a soft pink flush dusting her cheek.

Waiting another beat, Ethan clears his throat and begins to move, grabbing his book and nudging the now-drained cup of Vienna away, “I should head back. I have work. At the hospital.” He holds back a grimace. Moron.

Nina tilts her head, the action releasing a couple of strands to fall from her ponytail, “I would hope so, since you’re wearing your white coat,” She snorts when she sees the unimpressed expression on his face, “Go save lives, Dr. Ramsey.”

With that, the barista turns and heads back to work, humming softly as she goes.

A feeling he can’t place courses through him, sending a slight shiver up his spine as he steps out into the street. Just a chill. With that, Ethan makes the familiar walk back to Edenbrook, the gentle breeze returning and dances through the soft locks of his hair the whole way.

---------------------

Day 3

“Quit stalling already and drink!”

Grumbling, he lifts the cup to his lips, taking a cautious sip.

The silence settles throughout the room, and Nina leans forward just a little bit, in an attempt to gauge his reaction. He tries to keep his expression blank.

“...Well?”

“...”

Ethan lets the silence linger for another moment before bringing the cup back to his lips. Slowly, a smile begins to bloom across Nina’s face, bright and smug, “Heh. So what’s the verdict, Doctor?”

He refuses to give her the satisfaction of a reply, instead determined to keep his eyes trained on the inside of his coffee cup. His ears pick up a tinkle of a laugh.

“I told you you’d like it,” The barista giggles, her eyes forming crescent moons, as she attempts to stifle the full force of her laughter. Placing a hand on her hips, Nina gazes at him, her self-satisfied grin making a home on the corner of her lips. Ethan decides, right then and there, that he hates it endlessly.

He especially hates how that cheeky ass smirk makes her eyes sparkle more.

Releasing a bone-weary sigh, Ethan sets the mug down on the table and leans back in the chair, training ice blue eyes on the brunette across from him, “I tried it. Are you going to tell me what it was now?”

Still beaming, Nina sinks down into the soft leather chair opposite him, hand coming up to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind her ears. Crossing her legs, she glances down at the drained coffee cup, “Espresso Romano. As you can probably guess, it’s a shot of espresso with a slice of lemon served on the side and rubbed on the rim.”

A soft calming song plays in the background, the notes resonating through the air and floats around them, framing the little pocket of the world they were occupying. Nina looks back up at Ethan, holding his gaze as she continues, “The lemon’s zestiness brightens the drink and cuts off the bitterness. Which, no offense, but that looks like something you could use some help with.”

Biting back a retort on the tip of his tongue, he picks up the discarded lemon curl, long fingers absentmindedly playing with the garnish. The silence settles once more between them as he takes in what she said.

In a voice so quiet he’s hoping she doesn’t pick up on it, the words leave his lips: “It’s decent.”

The crescent moon smile she gifts him with tells him that she heard it loud and clear. He doesn’t say anymore, but he doesn’t need to. She hears the rest of what he left unspoken.

“Such a way with words. You really should’ve been a poet instead of a doctor,” Amusement never leaving her eyes, she leans over to pick up his mug and plucks the lemon peel out of his hands, dark brown hair falling over her shoulder at the movement. Soft afternoon sunlight streams in, bouncing off the tan of her skin and for a brief moment, she looks like she’s glowing. Ethan frowns, averting his attention to the space behind her instead.

Humming quietly, Nina stands up and turns, the soles of her white Converse squeaking in protest. Tossing him one more knowing smirk, she begins her trip back to the register, the arm of his empty cup resting on the crook of her finger. A minute later, she disappears through the door into the back area, the gentle music from the ceiling filling up the room in her stead.

Ethan releases a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and glances back out the windows overlooking the street, the faint taste of lemon still sitting on his lips.

---------------------

Day 4

The coffeeshop feels a bit different in the mornings, fresh dew and the gentle rise of the sun blanketing the room, wrapping it in a peculiar warmth. The lack of customers at this time adds to the ambiance, though Ethan doesn’t pay much mind to any of that at the moment. Instead, his attention is aimed at the disheveled barista in front of him and the mayhem surrounding her.

The next time Ethan walked through the doors of Derry Roasters a week later, he was met with what he could only describe as chaos. A collection of discarded coffee cups littered the counter and drops of milk and cream dotted the floor all around Nina. The brunette ran a hand through her long hair frustratedly, apron stained with liquids.

A quick explanation told him that she had been attempting to perfect the craft of latte art, though Ethan would argue that you can’t perfect something you didn’t even have the basics for. Recognizing that her skills were abhorrent and wanting to please customers, Nina had made it a habit to arrive at the cafe very early in the mornings, where she could practice in solitude. And that was what he had walked in on when he dropped by, having thought to get coffee before his shift later that day.

He watches her struggle with the milk for another minute, bumbling around like a newborn, before peeling off his white coat, a strand of hair falling just over his eyes at the motion. Nina turns at the rustle beside her and is greeted with Ethan’s tall figure peering down at her handiwork.

Startled, she takes a half step back, eyes wide in surprise, “What...are you doing?”

In place of a response, he rolls up the sleeves of his button down shirt and helps himself to one of the aprons hanging on the coat rack by the back area.

“Watching you spill milk on yourself like an infant is getting painful. I used to work as a barista through undergrad so I remember some things...” He pauses, gazing inside one particular mug that was housing what resembled more creamy vomit than coffee, “...though I’m skeptical if it could even help you at this point.”

The flat tone of his voice must have irritated her, as she shoots him a mild glare, a cool determination flashing in her eyes, “That sounds like a challenge, Doctor.”

“It definitely will be.”

A couple hours later, the work area resembles a battlefield, thermometer and portafilters thrown haphazardly all over the counter, milk and coffee powder strewn across its surface in reckless abandon.

Ethan shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest and focused intensely on the mess she’s making, “You’re not doing it right.”

Nina groans, the sound tickling his ear. Her grip on the pitcher slackens which promptly spills more of its milky contents all over the counter.

“I’m doing it exactly as you said. You just suck at teaching,” She mumbles, tsk-ing a little at the new addition blooming on her apron. Taking in the growing clutter decorating the counter, Nina lets out a sigh before turning to Ethan, “This feels hopeless.”

“Giving up already, rookie?” He quirks up an eyebrow, a corner of his lips twitching.

She stops and blinks at the nickname, but doesn’t comment on it further, “No!...Just. Ugggh,” With a loud whine that sounds awfully like a puppy’s, Nina sets the pitcher down, knocking it into the thermometer that was sitting nearby. Placing a hand on the surface of the counter, Nina leans into it, sagging with disappointment. The chagrin expression on her face so directly contrasted her usual bright grin that it makes his chest throb strangely.

Clearing his throat, Ethan glances back down at the mugs, highlighting all her failed attempts. Despite the mess, he could still see her progress, the more recent works showing slight improvements.

With a flick of his fingers, he starts selecting some of the cups out of the batch, “These aren’t too bad. The shape is starting to take place.”

Not looking entirely convinced, Nina skeptically eyes the attempts he singled out.

“You sure?” She points to one, “This one looks like a bad rendition of the Scream.”

Gently, Ethan nudges the pitcher and the thermometer towards her, voice quiet but firm, “It’s an upgrade from the foamy blob you made earlier. You’re getting there. You just need to keep working on your technique.”

Releasing a sigh, Nina relents and pours more milk into the pitcher, readying for another round.

Delicate sunshine slants through the windows and catches on the tips of her hair as she bends forward, eyes narrowed at the face of the thermometer. Ethan keeps a watchful eye on her movements, leaning towards her a fraction more.

Despite the intensity coming off of Nina as she tackles the task, Ethan feels curiously light, as though the usual restlessness humming under his skin was dimmed. Hovering a little closer, the weak scent of apples from Nina’s hair tickles his nose, as she turns to heat the milk. Grabbing the steam wand, she inserts it into the liquid and turns it on, the thermometer clinking onto the side of the pitcher.

When she gets to the part of pouring the milk into the coffee, the hand holding the steamed milk trembles slightly as she tips the wide-mouthed cup of the espresso forward in her non-dominant hand. Stepping ever closer and settling right behind her, Ethan leans his head down until it practically rests on her shoulder, her back to his chest, and brings a hand forward to steady her grip.

At the contact, the warmth of her skin spreads through his fingers, scalding in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

This close to her he can hear the intake of breath, the slight shudder in her voice as she continues, concentrating on the feeling of his hand and the milk as it spills into the espresso.

Morning light grows warmer as the sun rises up higher in the sky, and Ethan loses track of time as he watches Nina pour the foam, successfully forming an asymmetrical flower. The minute she finishes with the last drop, the barista sets the pitcher down, staring wide eyed at her work.

Turning her head slowly, she fixes her stare on him, a look of utter disbelief on her face, “...I did it.”

Ethan’s lips quirk and he nods once, “You did.”

There’s a pause as it sinks in.

“...Oh my god! I did it!” Elated, Nina leaps towards Ethan, throwing her arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Oof,” He braces himself at the force of her knocking into him. Letting out a snort, Ethan finds himself chuckling at the brunette’s joy, a small feeling of pride spreading through his chest, having spent all day trying to get to this point.

The moment lingers, Nina’s arms still wrapped around Ethan’s broader frame, the thumping of her heart beating against his rib cage. In a tiny, slightly muffled voice, “Thank you.”

Tilting her head up at him, she awards him with a gentle smile, the softness of her face accentuated by the tender curl of her lips, “Seriously. It was thanks to your help today. Guess you really are a good teacher,” Nina quips, a levity about her now that made it difficult for him to look away.

Ethan smirks, “Of course I am. I’m good at everything.”

The barista rolls her eyes all the way up to the ceiling, “Glad to see you’ve got a strong ego.”

“Was it not earned?”

“...Okay yes, but it doesn’t mean you have to be annoying about it,” She grumbles, lips forming a pout.

It takes Ethan another minute to realize that neither of them had moved, the both of them still wrapped around each other. The warmth of her skin bleeding through his shirt, the faint apple scent of her hair tickling his nose once more and he unconsciously leans down.

Nina’s eyelids flutter as she moves towards him, and soon he’s close enough that he can count every speck of caramel in the brown pools of her eyes. The pink of her lips. The small shudder of her breath. Every second that ticks by is another he’s falling...Wait, what?

Ethan jolts, his thoughts crashing to a stop, his entire body tensing. Sensing the change of mood, Nina halts as well, pulling back slightly to look at him, brows furrowed in concern, “Are you alright, Ethan?”

No. He doesn’t respond as he starts extricating himself from her grasp, peeling away from her. The groove in between her eyebrows deepen as Ethan hurries to place some distance between them.

There’s another moment of silence that blankets over them, but this one is different. It’s tense, making Ethan’s gut churn a little.

“...Did I...is something wrong?”

Unable to meet her eyes, he holds back a grimace, hearing a tremble of hurt in her voice as she asks. He stays silent for another beat before glancing in her direction, not meeting her gaze, “No, it’s just. It’s...I gotta go. My shift starts soon.”

Not waiting for a reply, Ethan yanks off his apron, roughly throwing back onto the rack before hastily grabbing his white coat and rushing out the door, never once turning back to look at the barista, whose eyes never left his back as he briskly walked off back to the hospital.

-------------------

Day 5

“You’re still here, Ethan?”

At the sound of the voice, Ethan looks up from a patient’s x-rays he’d been examining, finding his colleague, Dr. Baz Mirani, standing in the doorway of his office.

Throwing a quick glance at the wall clock, it read 11:54 p.m.

Damn. It’s this late already? He’d completely lost track of time.

Rubbing a tired hand over his chin, Ethan releases a sigh before packing up his things, and leaving his office for the night, brushing past Baz on the way out. He wasn’t going to be able to do much more tonight.

A full effect of autumn had taken root and blanketed across the town in the past month. Stepping out in the night, Ethan lifted up his face, the scent of the fall leaves and cool evening air caressing the tip of his nose. As he moved closer to his car, a restlessness buzzed under his skin and he was unable to shake it no matter how much he tried.

He’d been feeling this way for about a month now. Ever since then.

A flicker of brown eyes and soft smiles crosses his mind and a gnawing apprehension sits in his throat, one that feels suspiciously like guilt. Guilt and...something else Ethan doesn’t want to define yet.

Sighing once more into the autumn night, he reaches his car door, ready to go home to his bottle of scotch waiting for him. The feeling continues to nip at him though, and he pauses when reaching for the handle of his car, the weight in his backpocket feeling much, much heavier.

Maybe...He suddenly...felt an urge for some coffee.

Before he could talk himself out of it (this is a bad idea), he leaves behind his car and takes off in the direction of the coffeeshop, his footsteps slow and effortful.

The lights are still on when he reaches Derry Roasters, the blinds of the windows all pulled down save for two that overlook the counter. His eyes immediately land on the barista, sweeping away at the floor on the other side of the register, expression tight and disappointed.

The guilt started to creep back in at the look on her face.

This really was a bad idea. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk to her yet, after his abrupt exit last time. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready, but he certainly wasn’t today.

Backtracking, Ethan began turning back in the direction from which he came, but the movement catches her eye and right away, Nina glances up, brown eyes connecting with blue ones. Ah shit.

Seeing him, the barista’s expression tightens a fraction more, a cool gleam flashing across her eyes, and she frowns before beckoning him to come in with a quick nod of her head.

A weary sigh leaves his lips as Ethan ambles over, the ding of the bell ringing out like it was announcing his execution. The minute he walks in, Nina folds her arms across her chest, still wearing her black apron over the pale blue sweater she donned today.

“Did you need something?” She asks after a long, tense moment.

He doesn’t reply, the lump in his throat growing as he hears the familiar line, ones uttered by him not too long ago. The circumstances in which they were said so different.

She presses forward when he doesn’t speak, “You haven't been around much lately.” It sounds a little like an accusation.

“My coffee machine’s working again. So I didn’t really need to come here anymore,” He tries to hold back a grimace at how calloused he sounds.

Nina’s frown morphs into a glare and Ethan’s sure he’d rather be toughing it out in the Amazon right now than having to be the object of this woman’s current woe and ire. He’d rather be anywhere else.

He regrettably continues to dig his own grave, “There wasn’t much else this place could offer since I could just get coffee from my office now,” Why the fuck-

“Well sorry I don’t have much to offer a world renown doctor,” A tinge of bitterness laced in her tone and he holds back a wince.

It was strange how easy it was for him to deal with the people at the hospital, never finding any need to mince words with idiots with fat pockets, and vultures trying to increase their profits at the expense of others. With his patients, always doing his best to be honest with them as they faced their own battles everyday, fighting for their lives. But here, in front of this woman who miffed him and intrigued him to no end, Ethan always found himself hesitating and clumsy with his words.

He stays quiet for too long and his silence, his lack of anything annoys her.

“You really are a cactus,” Nina mumbles, tightening her grip on the broom, keeping her eyes trained to the ground.

Taking a steadying breath, the barista glares pointedly at the crack in the floor before speaking up again, “You’re always like this, you know. I’ve talked to you like five times, and even I can tell you what you’re like.”

He doesn’t speak, the tension in the air making it difficult for him to cut through, his throat closing.

Nina holds up her hand, dainty fingers curled into a fist before she begins counting, “You always have to be sarcastic or ironic about something,” She lifts up a finger, “You’re always grumpy and kind of an asshole,” She puts up another finger, “You’re so closed off it’s sometimes so hard to talk to you because I have no idea what you’re thinking,” She pauses, ticking off another finger as the edge of her glare starts to fade, “...You never say what you mean. You’re so emotionally constipated and you make a habit of running away. You can’t just admit you like something and you always have to find a roundabout way to-”

During her tirade, Ethan had inched closer to her, slipping out what he had hidden in his back pocket. In one swift motion, he presents it to her, shoving it right under her nose and effectively cutting her off mid-rant.

Nina blinks, staring down at the trinket. A small frog keychain sits in the palm of his hand, the plush material appearing velvety under the beam of the ceiling light.

“...What?”

His other hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck as she peers up at him, wide-eyed and confused at the gesture, “I saw it a while ago. I don’t know why I thought of you but I bought it.” He nods at the pin clipped dutifully on her apron, right next to her name tag.

A long stretch of silence envelopes them and Ethan’s not sure what to classify this one. It didn’t feel comfortable nor was it tense like before. The brunette continued to stare at the item in his hand before gingerly, almost shyly taking it into her hands, rolling it a bit between her fingers.

After another long moment, she speaks up, “My brother...always liked frogs,” Voice airy, she keeps her eyes on the plush and continues, “He got sick a lot, and they always made him feel better. So I would always be wearing them and bringing them to him whenever he got sick again.” Nina glances up at him finally and he notices her eyes glistening with emotion.

“He’s alright now, but I guess old habits die hard. I’ve grown attached to frogs myself,” She chuckles.

Ethan watches her, blue eyes lingering on her frame before finding his voice again, “I’m glad your brother is fine now. You’re a wonderful sister.”

Nina remains quiet, eyes still fixed on the gift and Ethan’s not sure why he feels the need to keep going, “I found it in the gift shop at the hospital.”

There’s another pause as Nina freezes again. As the seconds stretch on, Ethan’s worried he overstepped. Maybe don’t tell her that. Preparing to backtrack and excuse himself from this scenario, he readies an apology on his lips, when he’s interrupted by the sound of a snort.

She’s...laughing?

Bemusement takes over his face as he blinks, watching as the barista starts curling over, laugh growing in intensity and volume. One peek at his face and she’s launched into another fit.

Nina continues to laugh, her body shaking as the amusement runs through her small frame. Ethan stands there silently, not sure what he should be doing as the barista keeps giggling, hand clutching the keychain tight in her grip.

Finally, after what feels like ages, Nina’s laughter subsides, fixing her posture and settling her gaze on him, something that Ethan can’t define sparkling in her eyes.

A fond sigh leaves her lips as she regards him, “You make it hard to stay mad,” She lets out, voice delicate like a whisper.

Nina links her hands behind her back, expression happy and radiant, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from her. In his daze, he doesn’t notice her moving, approaching quicker than he has time to form a coherent thought.

Nina practically skips towards him, closing the distance between them. Ethan almost reflexively took a step back, the sudden proximity shocking him speechless as he catches the caramel flecks in her eyes, sparkling and utterly captivating.

“So,” Drawing out the one syllable, Nina’s eyes crinkle into those familiar crescent moons, as she lifts herself up on her tiptoes and leans towards him, noses almost touching. Ethan finds himself rooted to the spot, completely at a loss before her as her eyes reflect like stars.

“Are you gonna ask me on a date or what?”

Fin.

taglist: @openheart12 @ethandaddyramsey @noboundariesplease @drethanramslay @ethanramseysgirl @senseofduties @messrprongs @x-kyne-x @ethxnrxmsey @newcolonies @choices-love-affair @sekizincimektup @nooruleman @fightingtheinevitable @kaavyaethanramsey @agent-breakdance @blueacacias @edith-eggs1

#open heart #playchoices #choices oph #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #ethan ramsey fanfiction #my writing #SHES SO LONGGGGGG #please don't let this flop i will swear off writing forever #so help me gOD #no seriously leave your comments and what not i'd love to hear your thoughts #i'm so proud of her sHES MY BABY #my shitty writing

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skrltwtch · 5 years ago

Text

Sleep Talk

Prompt: Persons A and B are cuddling on the couch together watching a movie late at night. Person B (who tends to sleep talk) falls asleep, and A doesn’t notice. B begins saying progressively weirder stuff until they finally mutter “I love you.” A internally freaks out and grabs B’s hand, then says, “I love you, too.” Person B wakes up confused and terrified because it was the first time they ever said “I love you” to each other. (Source of prompt in link at bottom of post.)

Word count: 2,026 words

Author's note: Spoilers for Wonder Woman. I also didn't quite follow the prompt to a T.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

‘It’s movie night!’ I said in a sing-song voice upon entering the living room, fresh out of the shower and in my best jammies, a set cut from cat-printed periwinkle blue cloth. George, sadly, wasn’t wearing his matching set. Shame; I’d packed this set with the intention of us spending this iteration of a three-year-old tradition in couple jammies. That’d have been such a sight — and the Instagram story.

‘The best night of the week — which also happens to be Friday night,’ he said, grinning. He patted the space next to him. ‘Saved you a seat. Best one in the house.’

‘Thank you, my darling.’ I put down the bowl of popcorn mixed with funfetti and chocolate, a recipe I nicked off the Internet, and bottle of Coke, and joined him on the couch, its real estate reduced to fit us both as snugly as bugs in a rug by all the pillows he’d added to the living room’s already hefty count. His idea of home improvement made it difficult for me to ever want to leave this couch and live life off of it. Could I put in a request to work from home like this next week? Senior management were strong advocates of ‘flexible arrangements’ and ‘work-life balance’ after all, and none were more deserving of the latter after the week’s events than I.

‘What are you in the mood for?’

‘What are you in the mood for? It’s your turn this week to choose,’ he said.

‘I was being democratic.’

‘For once, you can pretend my opinion doesn’t matter.’

‘“For once”?’

‘Oi.’ He sank deeper into his seat.

The corners of my mouth ached from chortling a little too much at his expense. I almost choked, actually, to which he said under his breath, ‘Karma’, his face gleaming with smug glee. Fair enough.

I reached for the remote and also handed him the popcorn to keep his mouth busy while I picked our poison; I knew, too, that what he’d said about his opinion not mattering this time had to be a bluff. George? Not having an opinion about movies? The next Pope being Buddhist was far likelier. I counted myself fortunate that we had similar tastes.

So, what was I feeling this week? Last week was Ingrid Goes West, which reinforced his decision to stay the fuck away from social media and reinforced my crush on Elizabeth Olsen. It was one of the unspoken rules to not repeat genres to keep things interesting. If there were no such rule, I’d have watched the entirety of Netflix’s sci-fi thrillers, and he its dark comedies, twice over. I navigated to the superhero movies section. I wanted something loud, light, and that wasn’t too long because of the late start.

The cursor found itself on Wonder Woman. Excellent: it was familiar — this would be our second time watching; we had no compunctions about re-watching stuff on movie night, as long as it was within ‘reason’ (whatever that meant — for instance, watching Thor: Ragnarok five times was perfectly acceptable to me) — and didn’t require a tremendous amount of cerebral effort to follow. It was what the doctor ordered for capping off a long, pretty shitty week. I needed the reminder that it was possible, and worthwhile, to find hope in and remain optimistic about such a bleak, ugly world. Besides, what was more cathartic than watching a superheroine, the world’s first, doing her thing in a movie that was, for the most part, also tastefully done? I didn’t want to enter the weekend continuing feeling like shit, so I hit play without further ado.

‘Hey, don’t finish that,’ I said to George, who’d been popping fistfuls of kernels and chocolates into his mouth like there wasn’t a finite supply.

‘You were taking so long to decide.’

‘I’ve decided!’ I gestured at the Warner Bros logo that flashed on-screen.

‘I’m hungry.’ His pout signalled the being of a sulk. ‘We don’t usually start this late …’

I put down the remote and curled up next to him. Our arms made their way onto each other’s bodies: mine across his abdomen, and his over my shoulder. He took my hand and lay a soft kiss on my fingers before setting it back down on his lower stomach, where he preferred it belonged. Fine by me. I burrowed deeper into his side. His scent, fresh and a little sweet from all the candy he’d taken, provided warm solace, as always.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been made to stay late.’

His fingertips skimmed the curve of my jawline. ‘It’s okay. I was kidding. I know your manager’s a prick with no respect for other people’s time,’ he said. A finger landed on my lip; it tasted faintly of vanilla. ‘Now, shh. Movie’s started.’

For something we’d watched before, Wonder Woman continued to hold our attention. Neither of us succumbed to the temptation of checking our phones nor started conversing with each other about our day, whether the Internet would implode if Chris Pine were to ever join the Marvel Cinematic Universe, weekend plans, whatever. None of that was verboten on movie night. Our attention spans weren’t perfect, and we’d never pretend they were; and some movies, like it or not, were better enjoyed as background noise in the comfort of one’s home. Sometimes we could accomplish so much on movie nights.

‘How’d you think I’d look in that?’ George piped up during the famous No Man’s Land sequence.

‘In what?’

‘Her outfit.’

‘That’s something you could consider for next Halloween.’

He grunted.

‘I’d love to see it.’

‘I want cheese. Cheese in bread. Cheese on bread. Pizza?’

‘You can’t be that hungry.’ I patted his stomach. It emitted a loud, watery rumble.

‘’m puckish.’

‘“Peckish”?’

‘That’s what I said.’ His speech had a slurred quality to it.

‘There’s still popcorn left.’

‘Not chicken wings.’ How’d wings come into the picture? ‘Or Sprite.’

‘Gross, Sprite.’

Despite his and his stomach’s grievances, he didn’t take the popcorn or Coke, or get up to order whatever it was that he wanted. I wasn’t about to surrender the position into which I’d worked myself. Likewise, I was genuinely into Wonder Woman (I attributed that to the fatigue I felt toward all things Marvel after Endgame and my excitement for Wonder Woman 1984) to consider taking any interruptions in my stride. His stomach did stop its fussing after a while.

‘Are my Neopets dead? Is there a Neopets Heaven?’

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to. Because he didn’t need to know I was still on Neopets and could therefore tell him with full confidence that no, Neopets wouldn’t starve to death, and no, the concepts of death and Heaven didn’t, and would never, exist on the site because its staff continued to delude themselves about the average age of their current userbase. Look, I put in too much work on my account, which I’d had since the site’s inception, to simply let it rot in the site’s current state of virtual limbo. Actually, maybe I should come clean and reintroduce him to the site … it was getting a little lonely for little ol’ me in Neopia.

‘What do you think happens to Tamagotchi when they die?’

Okay, what the fuck.

I peeled my gaze off of Gal Gadot — a herculean task — and looked up at him. Oh, God. He really was the old man he proclaimed himself to be. I let him sleep. He, too, had had a rough week at work, and I needed him at his best for what we had planned for the weekend … which, for now, was nothing. I was planning for the both of us to work on it when Wonder Woman entered standard blockbuster fare territory! Once again, work had thrown a monkey wrench into the fine-tuned machinery that constituted our countdown to the weekend: sending texts about weekend plans to each other during office hours and bringing them to fruition once our asses found themselves out the door at six o’clock and not a second later. This was called making efficient use of our time at work. Our managers should be so proud.

George’s sleep talking soon eclipsed Wonder Woman in terms of entertainment value. Frankly, Wonder Woman lost its lustre in its third act, where the filmmakers attempted to convince the audience that Remus Lupin and the fearsome Greek god of war were one and the same. That moustache? In what universe —? The nerve of Patty Jenkins, expecting me to extend my suspension of disbelief to such lengths.

Tonight’s highlights included:

‘Fucking parrots, always stealing my hot dogs in the park.’

‘I am not eating that banana without a fork.’

‘Look, that dog is wearing a tea cosy on its head.’ (I really would’ve loved to see this.)

‘Dad’s going to regret not letting mom pursue that degree in apartment science.’

When I couldn’t resist and asked him what apartment science was: ‘You know, when an apartment and science love each other very much …’

‘Government’s come out and made sex on bicycles illegal. That is a goddamn shame.’

‘Pudding’s never hurt anyone. Not physically, not emotionally.’

I was … a little fascinated, honestly. His episodes, as moderate as their occurrences were, tended to consist of brief, simple sentences and max out at four or five. Did I need to be concerned? Or was work taking a heavier toll on him than he’d let on? That was it: our weekend was going to revolve around relaxation. The beach! Massages! Studio Ghibli on Netflix! Spending the entirety of either day in bed was a need, a must; I wouldn’t care to hear otherwise.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you, George.’ I rested my head on his chest and interlaced my fingers with his.

The realisation of what the words that’d left our lips, been said in our voices, and hung in the air above our heads, begging, screaming, to be acknowledged, were drove me to undo what I did and pause the movie. Why did that sound so … natural? Why was I even questioning this? Our relationship — what we had — wasn’t invalid because those words hadn’t been said — until now, where ‘now’ happened to be borne of a sleep talking episode. Love didn’t have an on-off switch. The things we did together, the things we did for each other, the things we did to each other, said volumes louder about what we were than those three words.

Still, it felt fucking magical.

George stirred next to me. ‘Has it ended?’

‘No.’

He snuffled. ‘Did I fall asleep?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Shit. Did you stop because I —’

How was that sentence supposed to have ended? Because he talked in his sleep? Because of what he said? Do you know what you said, and did you mean it? I wanted to ask. His recollection of what he said while unconscious was a crapshoot; at least it wasn’t convenient whenever it might suit him — like now, perhaps. And I did. I meant what I said. Come on, Y/N. Don’t sweep this under the rug. Don’t play it off as a joke. Do it. Ask him. We were adults, whether or not we liked it. I couldn’t have the weekend start on a note like this.

He pressed me closer to him. His lips brushed the top of my head. ‘I’m an idiot for not saying it sooner — or more often, and when I’m awake,’ he said. ‘I love you. I love you. I love you. It sounds divine.’

Heat danced across my cheeks. ‘It does, doesn’t it?’ Our palms touched. ‘I love you,’ I said softly. ‘I love you, George MacKay.’

I resumed the movie, both better able and more unable to focus on it now. There wasn’t much left to it. Chris Pine had long left the picture, as my interest would’ve, too, notwithstanding what’d transpired.

‘What else did I say?’

‘You wanted to know if your Neopets are dead.’

‘Oh. Well, are they? Can you help me check?’

‘Why are you asking me?’

‘I know you still play.’

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic #mine

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zwiezraczek · 5 years ago

Note

Hi!! So about your blurb post, can you do 3, 9 & 20 she/her with Four or Ben :D love youuu

Rules Were Made To Be Broken [Blurb]

3. “Excuse me but… Why are you blushing?” 9. “You are definitely drunk” 20. “I think I just found somebody to love”

Part 2

~~~

Four’s favorite thing in the world was going out with Seven and Five into a club, “sneaking out” precisely because One never really knew about these small escapades, and getting drunk with them. Occasionally, he flirted. His blue angelic eyes were the greater magnet, and his blond locks were driving crazy some girls out there. Five was always the one to drag Four out of the club, Seven laughing as she scolded him because he was going too far with this girl, playing with her – and that was unacceptable young man, to which he used to answer that she wasn’t his mother but Seven would argue that Four had to listen to her. That night, wasn’t an exception and Four was drinking with Seven at the bar, while Five danced with a guy under the purple lights.

And you stood there, looking at him from afar. You could tell how magnificent his eyes were, this lighting enhancing them so much, and these locks, these curls on his neck: you could die for. But you weren’t one of these girls to go straight ahead, ask the guy to dance with you and probably end making out in the bathroom and even more. Your shy nature showed up, as your friends teased you when they noticed how much you were looking at him, with heart eyes. Without further ado, they pulled you to the bar, under your protest but they didn’t seem to care too much about it. And you were there, sitting at the bar, facing him and feeling dizzy and stupid. You didn’t dare to look at him, fearing his eyes which would make your legs go jelly, and clearly this wasn’t needed. But, as you rose your eyes, you met his, and God knows how beautiful they were and how weak you were yourself. You felt fire on your cheeks, your eyelashes fluttered as the barman put a drink in front of you, you gulped it immediately, ashamed, afraid, stressed out. When you looked back at him, he wasn’t there. Relief and ache filled your body, but you could finally relax… For a mere second, as a hand appeared on your shoulder, just behind you, your friends giggling. Almost brutally, you looked back at whoever was touching you, and you froze immediately. It was him. Shining eyes on you, loud music playing in the background, your cheeks were lava.

“Excuse me but… Why are you blushing?” And his voice added weakness to the magical emotional combo you were living right now. You had some problems breathing, as you looked at him, mesmerized.

“Blu… I wasn’t blushing at all,” you lied, as your best friend leaned closer to look at the guy.

“She wanted to dance with you, if you don’t mind, she couldn’t shut up a…”

“Shut up,” you cut her off as soon as you could.

“I wouldn’t mind dancing with you, I came here to offer a drink but a dance would be even better,” he said, offering his hand to you as your best friend almost pushed you against him.

“She’d love that, go y/n, go,” she encouraged you as you made big eyes at her, taking the man’s hand.

And you danced with him, swiftly on the musics, your back pressed against his chest with his hands on your waist. You could feel his hot breath on your neck as you danced, pressed against each other, your hands up slowly wandering in his hair. He turned you around, so you could face him, your eyes on him, and only him. Nothing could end this moment between both of you, nothing really mattered right here, right now, just him. He leaned down, slowly, until his lips reached yours and kissed you, softly, your body almost swooning as you tasted his lips, drunkenly. Breathless you were when he pulled apart your lips, looking at you with a smirk.

“I think I found somebody to love,” he whispered into your ear, as you had goosebumps.

“I’d love to be your somebody,” you whispered back, leaning your head on his shoulder before slow dancing for a moment.

“Yo Four,” a man screamed, making the man you were with looking abruptly up, “we need to move, now, One’s furious as hell, Five’s already outside.”

“Shit,” he muttered before looking down at you, he searched for his phone in his pockets before handing it to you. “Love, put your phone number here, I’ll call you, I promise.” You couldn't hesitated and typed it, and as you handed it back, he pulled you against him, kissing you one last time, a sloppy quick kiss before he disappeared in between the bodies and the lights in the club.

~~~

“You are definitely drunk Billy,” Seven said, looking back at Four waving his hand towards Five. And indeed, today wasn’t Four’s proudest day, he could feel alcohol in his veins distinctly. But this only enhanced his will to see you again.

“Fuck you,” he snapped looking at Seven. “Blaine, you don’t understand, she’s the love of my life, I fucking feel it.”

“Hey, Amelia,” Seven hailed Five, waiting arms crossed in front of the club, “our boy Billy right here got a phone number and wants to marry a girl he just met.”

“You’re not a disney princess Billy,” she teased him. “Besides, you know the rules.”

“Screw the rules, she’s different.”

He screwed the rules, he did.

~~~

When you went back home, butterflies in your stomach, you couldn’t tell what happened to you on that night. You never felt that way, yes of course you did, this crush feeling was always strong when you saw somebody attractive but nobody ever replied, nobody did the first step. Except this stranger. You didn’t even knew his name, but typed yours as you gave him your phone number. What a dumbass you were, you thought. You’d never see him again, for sure, you were fun to play with probably, and as nothing had happened, he would never call you back, simple. Your thoughts wandered between expectations and reality, darkness and light, never really letting you rest. But still, you left your phone on the nightstand, because fortune favors the bold.

~~~

Four held nervously his phone, playing with it, turning it on and off, thinking, guessing, whispering, stressing out. All that because of you. He knew your name, y/n. It sounded perfect. It sounded heavenly. And all he had to do, was to press the call button. Nothing else. Two days already passed, and he still hesitated like a high schooler. But today was the day to call you – with some beer’s help, no biggie. He waited until being all alone to call you from this crappy phone Once once gave him, unchipped he said, you’d be an unknown number, he also said. Four couldn’t care less if it meant hearing your voice again, because the few words you exchanged weren’t enough. He didn’t got enough of you. Neither did you. He pressed call.

“Hello,” you answered, a bit surprised to receive a call so late, not expecting him to call.

“Y/n,” he asked, hoping that the number you gave him was really yours.

“And you are…?”

“The one who loves you and who left you like a coward a few nights ago and couldn’t get himself to call you,” he admitted shyly, enjoying the sound of your voice.

“You’re joking, right,” you pressed your phone against your ear, you knew it was his voice, but you needed to hear it, you needed confirmation after these days waiting for him to call you.

“It’s me, it’s absolutely me, love,” he assures, whispering these words softly as his heart is almost out his chest, speeding up like crazy. “I’d love to see you, love… I’m so sorry I had to leave you like this.”

“You can always apologize properly tomorrow, in the coffee shop next to the club around ten,” you surprised yourself telling him this, you couldn’t tell from where this boldness came, but you wanted to see him again so badly, to know him, to hear him, to see him and his eyes again. Anything seemed possible to you now.

“I will be there then, love,” he answered back, his smile could almost be heard through the phone. “I promise.”

“Stranger stranger, tell me your name,” you chanted, laying on your bed now, looking at the ceiling.

“It’s Billy,” he whispered after a few seconds of reflection, his body aching to lie to you so he told you the truth, and at this point he couldn’t care less. It was reckless, and he knew it, he was putting the whole team in jeopardy for a girl he met once and fell in love with, but he felt it: you were different.

“So, see you tomorrow Billy,” you whispered back, teasingly, “have a good night, we’ll have plenty of time to discuss tomorrow.”

#thank you nonnie 💕#it's so nice to hear aaaah love you tooo 💕#i hope you like it! ^^#ben hardy #four x reader #four!ben #four/billy #four ben hardy #ben hardy four #6 underground ben hardy #6 underground #six underground ben hardy #six underground #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy blurbs #blurb

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redroseredemption · 4 years ago

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Kamen Rider Ex-Aid Review

Since I’m getting closer to the ending of Ghost, I’d thought I’d post my review of Ex-Aid. I know it’s been a while since I finished the show but it took me a while to digest it and get all my thoughts together without raging. This is gonna be a controversial one. I know a lot of people love Ex-Aid, but if you’ve been watching my liveblogs, you probably know how this review is gonna end

Still trying to find a suitable review style so I hope you like the one I came up with. Without further ado, let’s get this over with… What I Liked: -The Opening: I freakin’ love Excite! It’s one of the best toku theme songs. Every time I’d watch an episode of Ex-Aid, I would sit through the opening just to listen to this song. It’s that good. Too bad for like 10-12 episodes it was more like an ending song but I didn’t mind it too much.

-Kiriya: Kiriya was, without a doubt, the best character in this show. Loved his lying ass personality. Loved his Hawaiian shirts. Had a pretty heartbreaking backstory and every time he was on screen he was a joy to watch. Also his actor’s hot

- The Game Driver and the Gasthats: At first I wasn’t sure about them. They’re so campy looking with their design and the neon bright colors, but over time I grew to really like them. They’re so different compared to other Rider belts. An odd one but I find when the belt says “GASHATO” very satisfying. -Kuroto and Masamune Actors: I love how much fun they’re having playing their characters. I’ve heard Kuroto’s actor is the one that gave him the crazy personality and Masamune’s actor is a famous musician and carries his gashat to his shows. I think that’s really sweet.

-Brave and Para-DX design: All his forms are great. He’s the best looking rider in my opinion in this show next to Para-DX who designs is just gorgeous. I’m still not a fan of the eyes on the visor, but they work better on them than the other suits.

-Taiga and Nico: Taiga by himself is an emo asshole who withheld the “treatment” of a patient because he wanted a gashat, but when he’s with Nico he’s tolerable. They’re dynamic made me kind of like him as the show went on. I’ve heard what the brave and snipe movie does to him, however I’m only basing his personality on the show, not the movies. In the show, he did get better. He was still an asshole, but less so in later episodes. And Nico, while annoying and bratty, I enjoyed her overall. Together, they had some of the more memorable moments in the show for me. -The Saki Revival Scene: That one scene when Masamune releases Saki and she keeps saying “Become the world's best doctor” is amazingly well done. How there’s no music when Saki keeps repeating her line and her face is glitching out. The tone of that scene was phenomenal. What I Didn’t Like: -Emu: Despite the fact that I put him in the “Didn’t Like” section, I don’t think Emu is a bad character. It’s his characterization I hae a problem with. He’s super inconsistent. Generally, he’s an empathetic person, but sometimes he uses that empathy in the wrong ways. Both Taiga and Hiiro hate him for a good 3/4ths of the show and multiple times Emu considers them his friends. Then there’s the scene with Kuroto where Emu says “he’s a good person.” That whole speech made me good “What the fuck is wrong with you, Emu?!” considering Kuroto killed Kiriya, Emu’s friend! The whole “M” personality part of him was not handled well. There are times throughout the show where I wasn’t even sure who was who. When you can tell who is who, like the one time Parad possesses Emu, he doesn’t know how Emu talks...even though he’s supposed to be “M” and should know how Emu speaks… I don’t know if that’s Emu’s actor, Hiroki Iijima, not being able to act as “M” or Yuya Takahashi not knowing how to write a character with a split personality. Whatever it was, the split personality part was very hard to follow. There’s also times where Takahashi tries to make Emu a badass and it comes off very awkward and out of character. One scene I wanna bring up is the one where Emu straight-up murders Parad. There’s no build-up to it, no foreshadowing, no indication whatsoever. He brutally beats up Parad and “kills him.” All to teach him a lesson about humanity and death. It’s so out of character and cruel for a character that’s supposed to be empathetic and caring. And all because we needed another “shock death.” It felt like Takahashi wanted to do this scene and he was going to do it no matter how little sense it made.

Hiiro: The hot embarrassing himbo.There’s being tsundere and then there’s being a dick and Hiiro is a massive dick. I got where Takahashi wanted to go with him. Hiiro is a man who lost someone he loved and he is still suffering from it, however, in my opinion it wasn’t executed well. The only scenes we see of Hiiro and his girlfriend, Saki, together before she “dies” are when he’s being a total dick to her and when she succumbs to the virus. That’s it. If we had scenes where they were a loving couple, I could be more sympathetic to Hiiro but he’s no different before Saki died and after. He’s just an asshole and yes, I get that some people are simply assholes, but if you want me to care about your character then don’t make them assholes without subsistence! This whole subplot could have been half the length with how long they dragged it out too. Speaking of which… Saki: Who is Saki? What did she like to do? What dreams did she have that didn’t center around her boyfriend? Saki was a McGuffin. A McGuffin for Hiiro to obtain. Hell, I think even Masamune describes Saki as a princess trapped in a castle at one point. She was an object. I really hate saying that but there’s no better way to describe it. She’s an object in human form for our heroes to obtain. If Saki was given a character at all, I wouldn’t be as pissed as I am with her treatment. Taiga: What is better than a character that’s an asshole for no reason? How about TWO characters that are assholes for no reason! Taiga wasn’t interesting by himself. I didn’t care about him or his “struggles” (which barely got to see in the show proper anyway) The only times he was was when he’s with Nico, but other than that I really didn’t care for him.

Kuroto: The villain of the first half of the show that becomes a meme. I don’t have too much to say about Kuroto, just that it’s clear Takahashi had a set plan for Kuroto that got thrown away once he came back. His character was done better in Build with Gentoku and from what I’m hearing about Zero-One, Gai as well.

Parad: Creepy gremlin that should not have been "M" “ I didn’t understand life that couldn’t continue.” No you understood, you lying sack a shit. In all seriousness, Parad never felt like he was a “full character” to me. He always felt like nothing more than a lackey like Graphite. Speaking of Graphite…

Graphite: If there was an award for the most wasted character in toku, he’d be it. He was the bugster created from Saki’s death. He was Hiiro’s and Taiga’s antagonist and what did they do with him? Throw him under the bus for half the show, force his ass back and then he dies a few episodes later… what a character The Tone: This was the worst aspect of this show for me. One moment, there will be a serious scene and then a second later, wack zany shinanigines happenes. Like the whole scene where Hiiro and Emu are talking about Kiriya’s death and Emu trips over himself. Or when a character dies and the voice pops in with cheery fanfair and says “GAME CLEAR” It’s like this show wants to tell this deep dramatic, story but you got clowns running aorund in the background honking.

Overall Thoughts: This show wasn’t for me. I couldn’t take it as seriously as it wanted me to. I could go on and on about Ex-Aid but I think this sums up my feelings fairly well. I have a lot of Rider shows to get to. Who knows maybe there will be a season worst than this one but for right now Kamen Rider Ex-Aid is the worst season I’ve seen yet. It goes in the “trash” tier.

(I have watched Kamen Rider Black and Gaim, but it’s been YEARS since I’ve seen them and I don’t feel confident to rank them with how long ago I’ve watched them. Also I’m ranking Amazons season 1. Haven’t watched season 2 yet)

#kamen rider ex aid #kamen rider ex-aid #kamen rider build #kamen rider amazons #kamen rider #redrosereviews #tier list #ex aid negativity

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bluesey-182 · 5 years ago

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We Have To Stop Meeting Like This - Chapter 8

holy shit??? i finally did it??? i finished this chapter??? amazing. since there are so many chapters now i’m just going to start linking the fic on ao3 instead of linking all the posts separately. i hope that’s okay. now, without further ado, here is the update:

--------

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d answer.”

On the other line of the phone came the blasting sounds from a video game as someone shot a simulated gun. “Why?” Cardan asked. It sounded like he had his cell on speaker phone. “Cause it’s one in the morning?”

Jude couldn’t help herself--she rolled her eyes even though he wasn’t there to see it. “No, Cardan, because I thought both of your hands had been gnawed off by a giant rat. Of course because it’s almost one o’clock.”

There was uproarious laughter--deep and male--from the other end that didn’t sound like Cardan’s laugh. His roommate, probably. But if he had heard her, that confirmed her theory about being on speaker.

“First of all,” Cardan’s amused voice cut through the laughter. “The only rat that would be big enough to best me in a fight is an R.O.U.S from The Princess Bride and they don’t actually exist. And second of all, darling, I’m a nocturnal creature, so of course I’m awake to answer your late night booty calls. Now what can I do for you?” Machine gun fire continued in the background from his end, joined with shouting from Cardan’s roommate to “watch out, dude, watch out! damnit now you’re dead. way to go, geezer.”

“I just,” Jude began but quickly cut off, unsure of how to proceed knowing that someone else was listening in on their conversation--even if he was clearly wrapped up in whatever violent video game the two boys seemed to be playing. “Um…”

“Hang on, Jude.” There was some mumbling from his end as words were exchanged, then a click like a door being closed, and suddenly the game’s noises were gone and Cardan’s voice was closer. He had taken her off speaker. “Okay I’m alone now, sorry. Is everything okay?”

“I just,” Jude started again and trailed off once more. “I can’t sleep.”

It had been almost a week since her last seizure. A week since Cardan broke down her door to find her on the floor laying in her own blood. Six days since Madoc hired someone to fix the girls’ door, five days since Madoc ordered Jude to move back home until they could get her seizures back under control, and two days since Vivi finally helped Jude convince their father to let her stay in her own apartment. The last week had been exhausting and yet Jude was restless. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t scared after what had happened.

“Do you want me to come over?” Cardan offered helpfully, and the sincerity of his offer nearly brought tears to Jude’s eyes.

“No,” she admitted. “No, I want… out. I don’t want to be here right now.”

“Where do you want to be?”

“I don’t actually know.”

A brief silence washed over them, interrupted only by the sound of Taryn’s cat meowing from somewhere in the apartment. Finally, Cardan said, “I’m on my way to pick you up.”

--------

The first thing Jude noticed when she got into Cardan's car was his wild hair. The perpetually messy curls were somehow even more unkempt than usual. The second thing she noticed was that Cardan was wearing sweatpants that fit him in a very pleasing way underneath a hoodie that some primal part of her begged to steal from him. The third thing she noticed was his smirk at her noticing him.

"Good evening," Cardan said in a mockery of a stereotypical vampire voice.

"What, are you Dracula now?" Jude teased.

"I think I'd be more of a faerie than a vampire, actually."

"Then why the vampire voice?"

"Jude Duarte: ever the critic."

"Spare me.” Jude tugged the seatbelt across her body and buckled it with some effort--the buckle itself was coated in a sticky substance that was likely spilled soda. She hoped it was soda. “Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"Cardan--"

"I promise there's not immediate danger to your person, if that's what you're worried about. Just trust me?"

Jude searched Cardan's face for any trace of deceit but came up empty. Hesitantly, she nodded her assent. Satisfied, Cardan put the car into gear and drove down the street like a person who decidedly deserved to have their license revoked. At Jude's surprised shriek, he laughed, earning himself a scowl from Jude.

"I thought you said there was no immediate danger to my person," she said.

"I just floored the gas a bit, it's not like I ran a red light into oncoming traffic."

"You really are such a terrible driver, you know that?" Jude asked once Cardan had stopped laughing. Instead of a verbal response, Cardan reached for the volume nob on the radio and turned his music up to deafening volumes. As he had done before in the car, Cardan began singing along to the words--the sound more shouting than singing--as he occasionally looked over to Jude to sing parts of the lyrics to her. His face was so openly happy and carefree that something in Jude’s chest tugged on her like a line trying to reel her into him. Watching his lips form the words made her want to kiss him. Hearing his terrible singing made her want to join in. Watching the streetlights flash across his face made her feel free, alive, happy. Her mind told her heart that she was right where she was supposed to be.

The song changed and Cardan flashed a grin over to her but soon frowned at whatever expression was on her face. Quickly, he spun the volume back down to near silence and asked Jude ever so gently, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she croaked. Really, nothing should have been wrong, but her chest was aching in a way she couldn’t place. It was the sort of feeling of being happy but fearing it at the same time--a fear that it would end. “Can I play a song?”

Cardan looked as if he didn’t quite believe her answer to his question but nevertheless waved a hand to his phone on the dash in permission for her to pick it up. A cursory search through his music library showed her mostly alternative rock and pop music and loud punk songs, but in his playlists she found one with a promising title of “Chill Music.” She also found a playlist with her name on it. Jude pretended not to see it, even though her heart skipped a beat, and instead clicked on the first playlist.

Khalid started playing through the speakers as Cardan turned into an unlit parking lot in front of a chain of mostly darkened store-fronts. The stereo continued to play even after the car was shut off before finally turning off completely when Cardan crawled into the backseat and opened a functioning door to get out of his crap car. He came around to her side of the car and opened the door for her, holding his hand out to her like some fairytale prince asking a princess for a dance instead of a boy in a dark parking lot on a late night outing in his sweats who had also just clambered around his own car like a jungle-gym.

“Shall we?” He asked. Jude rolled her eyes at his dramatics--eliciting a laugh from Cardan--but accepted his hand and allowed him to guide her out of his car.

“Are you ever going to get your dented front bumper fixed?” Jude asked when her eyes caught on the evidence of their first meeting. She was surprised that even after all that time had passed he still hadn’t taken his car into a body shop. He clearly had the money for it. “Or your door, for that matter?”

“Nah, it pisses my dad off that I’m ruining the car.”

“Makes me wonder if you crash it on purpose,” Jude teased.

“Maybe I do,” Cardan admitted flippantly, his voice at odds with whatever flashed in his eyes. “I do a lot of reckless shit. But crashing into you truly was an accident, in case you're wondering. Now, let’s go inside before all my precious fingers fall off. It’s cold out here.”

"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?"

"Well there's only one place still open right now," Cardan said, indicating with his hand one of the only lit buildings in front of them. A half burnt out sign above the doors proclaimed the place to be Ginkgo Garden and the smell of Chinese food drifted through the air. Jude inhaled deeply and looked to Cardan for confirmation of food in her near future. He smiled softly before offering her his hand to hold. Somehow, in the dark, it seemed like no big deal to hold onto him. She took his hand and they strode towards the restaurant.

“Why are they still open?” She wondered aloud. Beside her, Cardan shrugged.

“We’re in a college town and they do late night deliveries to the panicked students trying to cram everything into their brain at once?” He suggested.

“Makes sense.”

Inside the front doors they were blasted with a rush of hot air coming from an unseen heater in the ceiling. Jude welcomed it and, beside her, Cardan shivered one final time as if to shake the cold from his body for good. He released her hand to pull open the second set of inner doors for her, and Jude tried not to mourn the loss of his hand in hers. The restaurant's interior greeted them with green chairs and wallpaper patterned with mandarin trees. Soft music played softly over the sound of clinking dishes coming from the kitchen. Other than the young man standing behind a counter to the left of the door, no one appeared to be in the front house of the restaurant. Cardan exchanged familiar greetings with the smiling guy at the counter as Jude further took in the beautiful and elaborate decorations all over the place. It felt more like a home inside than a restaurant with its cramped but lovingly decorated space. Behind her, Cardan and the man kept chatting like old friends and Jude wondered just how often Cardan came here.

“Jude, this is Harry,” Cardan interjected into her train of thought, confirming her suspicion that he was a regular here. “Harry, this is Jude.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Harry smiled at her with so much genuine warmth that for a moment Jude was caught off guard by the open kindness from a total stranger. On its own accord her face seemed to smile back, but something told her it came out a bit more like a grimace. Cardan grinned at her and turned a conspiratorial grin towards Harry.

“I’m afraid Jude doesn’t smile much,” he said.

“You’re such a dick,” Jude remarked.

“She does, however,” Cardan continued, “say sweet nothings such as that to me all the time.”

Jude rolled her eyes as the two boys chuckled and decided it was best to tune them out. When her efforts proved fruitless (Cardan had proceeded to start listing all the “wondrous, heartfelt names” that Jude had “very fondly” called him since they had met for Harry to laugh at in increasing volumes as the names got more creative) Jude caught sight of a sign near the back that read "Bathrooms" with an arrow pointing in the wrong direction. Over her shoulder she caught eyes with Cardan long enough for an exchange of nods--one from her indicating where she’d be and one from him acknowledging that he understood--then ducked into the single stall restroom and locked the door behind her. Sounds from outside the small room reached her through the thick door as if from underwater. Everything sounded distorted and far away. Though she could hear the undertone of Cardan’s voice, all distinct words were drowned out, leaving behind only a melodic quality to his speech. She loosed a heavy sigh and turned so her back was against the door. From this new perspective, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

She liked to think that the mirror was hung unusually high but knew the reality was that she was too short to see her reflection below her shoulders. In the mirror she could see the dark circles under her eyes as evidence of her sleepless nights. Not for the first time, she wondered what Cardan saw when he looked at her. Did he see the girl in armor or the girl beneath it? Was she pretty to him? Or were her edges too sharp?

Jude tore her gaze away from her reflection and stepped forward to the sink where she turned her attention to the drain instead. As if on autopilot, she absently reached out to turn the sink handle, cupped some cool water into her palms, and gently splashed it onto her face. Droplets of water ran down her arms into her rolled-up sleeves as she allowed herself to stand there for a moment with her hands covering her face. Finally, she took a deep breath, snatched a paper towel from the dispenser, dried herself off, and walked out of the bathroom to find Cardan playing on his phone at one of the tables.

“All good?” He asked.

“Yeah, I got an eyelash in my eye and needed to rinse it out.” The lie came easily, but then again they always did.

“I ordered some food to go, Harry just ran back to get it for us. I was thinking we could take it back to my place and watch TV? I’ll even let you pick the show, as long as you don’t pick something that sucks.”

“Says the guy that watches Criminal Minds,” Jude teased, falling back into their easy banter.

“Hey,” Cardan pointed an accusatory finger in her face as she sank into the chair opposite him and she batted it away like an annoying gnat. “Criminal Minds,” Cardan continued regardless, “is interesting. It’s interesting to me how someone can be so fucked up to do the things they do.”

“And why do you do the things you do, Cardan?”

“Because my family didn’t want me so now I must act up to get attention.”

“See? That didn’t take fourteen seasons to explain.”

Just as Cardan made to reply, the kitchen door opened to reveal Harry carrying a large brown bag. Cardan stood and took the food, goodbyes were exchanged, and then Jude and Cardan were walking back into the cold. Before the doors closed all the way, Harry’s voice called out, “It was nice meeting you Jude!” and she waved over her shoulder and tried for a real-looking smile this time. When she turned back around, Cardan was standing with the passenger side door open for her.

“You know I can get my own doors, right?” She said with no real heat behind it.

“Yes, well, I keep getting to the doors before you and it seems foolish to stand and wait for you to open them for me.”

“I hate you, do you know that?”

“You’re lying. Do you know that?” Cardan grinned his wicked grin and Jude considered stomping on his toes. Instead, she got in the car. Cardan jogged over to his side of the car and pointed at the window controls as a request for Jude to roll it down for him. She shook her head in mockery, pretending not to understand what he was asking. Cardan gave her a withering look and mouthed at her to roll down the window. With her left hand she reached over for the controls and locked the doors.

“Jude,” Cardan groaned through the glass barrier as Jude began to laugh. “C’mon, my balls are freezing off.”

“Fine, fine.” She unlocked the car. Cardan glared at her and Jude continued to laugh.

Finally the sight of him shivering out in the cold, as well as the beginnings of a snow storm drifting through the air, became too pitiful and Jude rolled down the driver’s side window for Cardan to crawl through. Immediately his hands reached for the heater and he turned to her with a scowl as she laughed.

“I so want to be mad,” Cardan said as he reached into the backseat to set the bag of food onto the leather backseat, “but your laugh is distracting me.”

“I’ll stop laughing then,” Jude replied, trying to school her features into a more serious expression. The efforts sent her into a laughing fit again.

“No,” Cardan said softly. His lips curled up into a small smile while he watched her. “Don’t stop. I like your laugh.”

At his confession, Jude’s laughter finally petered out. The sudden silence in the car felt deafening as the two of them sat at stared at each other. The air felt charged with--something. All Jude knew was that if she didn’t look away now, her feelings were going to overwhelm her.

She looked away.

Cardan cleared his throat as Jude played with the hem of her jacket. Neither of them spoke as he turned on the car, connected the bluetooth on his phone to the stereo. Not a glance was exchanged as the music started up again and Cardan turned to look through the rearview window to back the car out of the parking lot. When the car pulled up to the third stoplight in a row, Cardan broke the awkward silence.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“No,” Jude whispered. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“It’s okay.”

Jude resumed fiddling with the hem of her jacket as the streetlight washed over them in green and the car proceeded with its progress down the road.

“I’m scared,” Jude found herself saying.

“I can take you home,” Cardan offered again softly, looking over at her with those dark eyes that she could so easily drown in.

“Not of you,” Jude said. “Just… this whole… seizure thing has had me messed up lately.”

“Understandably so.” Though he still looked concerned, Cardan seemed to have relaxed slightly at her words.

“I mean… What were you thinking?” Jude continued.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jude started, then stopped abruptly. “I mean what were you thinking when I called you? When you found me just laying there? Were you thinking ‘oh god she’s so pathetic’ or--”

“Jude,” Cardan interrupted, stopping her words with a gentle hand placed over her knee. “Please don’t ever think that I’d feel like that.”

“Then what were you thinking?” Until now Jude hadn’t noticed the moisture in her eyes. She tried to hold the tears back, but Cardan noticed them anyway and pulled over onto the side of the road. As the car rolled to a complete stop, all of Jude’s emotions finally poured over and she was crying, she was crying, she was crying. Distantly she registered Cardan’s fingers brushing against the backs of her hands. He asked a question, asked if it was alright to touch her, and took her hands in his when she nodded. Gingerly, he cradled her hands in his. Reached out to wipe away the streams of tears rolling down her cheek. Whispered to her until his voice finally reached her and she began to calm down. His thumb was rubbing soft circles into the back of her hand as his other hand trailed gently through the hair framing her face. Slowly, slowly, Jude came back to herself, back to the car, back to him. She forced herself to look into his eyes because the only other option was to let the shame of her tears consume her. In his eyes, though, was only a gentle understanding. Any judgement or disgust she may have expected was missing from his gaze. The Cardan sitting in front of her was so far away from the Cardan that she had met when he rear-ended her, or the Cardan she had ran into at Valerian’s stupid party. The Cardan in front of her was without armor and she longed to take off her own.

“Do you really want to know what I was thinking?” He asked her gently. Jude nodded, unable to speak. Instead of answering right away, Cardan looked down to where he still held her hand and watched his own fingers draw circles on her skin. His voice cracked when he tried to speak. "When you called me…. when you called me, I had some joke ready to make you laugh or call me a jackass or roll your eyes at me. But then I answered and you didn't say anything at first and I knew something was wrong. I know you don't remember, but I do. You said help. Just help, that was all, but you sounded so scared and my heart started beating out of my chest. I asked you where you were three times before you were finally able to tell me you were at home and then you were completely silent. I drove like a bat out of hell to get to you, pushing the speed limit by 20 in some areas and daring the cops to pull me over, because there was no way in hell I would stop for anything. I was on the phone with you the whole time, just hoping you'd say something else, anything else, but you never did. I got to your place and… you wouldn't answer the door, Jude.” He looked up at her, his eyes glazed over. “I have never in my life been that afraid or that desperate to get to someone. So I broke the door in. I didn't even know I could do that,” Cardan laughed without humor and turned his eyes to look through the windshield. “I was just so goddamn panicked. And then I saw you there, and you were crying, and that was the only way I knew you weren't dead. There was so much blood, Jude. And you weren't moving. And all I could think was ‘I can’t lose her. I can’t lose this girl that makes me feel like I’m more than the fuck-up my family has always seen me as. This girl that makes me feel safe enough to laugh without cruelty, who smiles so rarely but so brightly, who calls me a jackass even though her eyes seem to be begging to say something else. I can’t lose this girl when I’m just finally getting to know her.’ All I could think about, Jude…” When he looked at her this time, it was his eyes full of tears. “Was that you had to be okay. Because I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t.”

Was she crying again? Instinctively Jude’s hand tightened around his and she cradled his hands like he had done to hers. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if there was anything to say. She felt useless as Cardan gathered himself back together without a word from her, but then he brought her knuckles to his lips and brushed a kiss across her skin.

“Thanks,” she whispered lamely. “For saving me.”

“Sorry for breaking your door.”

“I didn’t like it, anyway.”

Cardan laughed, but it was a shadow of his usual one.

--------

At midnight Jude awoke having to pee. Yuri On Ice still played quietly on the television that washed the room in a soft blue light. Empty containers of Chinese food were spread haphazardly around them on the comforter. Cardan was sprawled out on his bed beside her, mouth open slightly as soft noises of sleep escaped him. At the sight of his peaceful face Jude stopped to look at him for a moment. The planes of his face looked softer in sleep--his cheekbones and jawline less like they could cut her heart to pieces, his beautiful mouth so invitingly soft and begging for her to make them smile. And those beautiful black curls of his were a halo on the pillow. He was so heart-achingly beautiful.

She thought she might love him.

The revaluation jolted her out of bed and she rushed to the bathroom while her heart jackhammered in her chest. With the bathroom door closed and safely separating them, Jude tried to reason with her own racing thoughts. Love was a complicated thing. Love was a distant memory that came with her mother spinning her around in her arms and sticky fingers from popsicles and chasing her father around the living room when he snatched her blanket from her. Love was something she chased to get from Madoc, something she found late at night curled in bed with her sisters as they laughed to hide their shared heartbreak, something the morning light seemed to wash away once reality set back in. Love was something that could die, and the thought of losing Cardan hit her like a punch to the gut. For a moment she couldn’t breathe.

No, she couldn't love Cardan. But back in his bedroom, when she crawled into bed and he immediately wrapped his arms around her without waking up, she wondered if maybe it wasn't just possible--but undeniable.

She felt him shift behind her until their bodies were pressed together and then his soft voice spoke into her hair. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she replied a little breathless. "Just had to use the bathroom."

Cardan hummed a response and was likely already halfway to being asleep again when Jude rolled over onto her other side to face him. His eyes reluctantly opened to look at her, bleary and half open. He really was beautiful. Jude’s chest tightened with want.

No, she couldn’t lose him. And yet...

"Cardan," she breathed before she could lose her nerve. "About what you said at the hospital. About you telling them you're my boyfriend…"

"I didn't know what else to s--"

"What if I want you to be. My boyfriend, I mean."

A small, sleepy smile spread across Cardan's face as his eyes drifted closed once more. He pulled Jude into him more so that her head rested against his chest--planted a kiss on top of her head, and said, "Then I'm yours."

Moments later he was softly snoring.

#jurdan #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #the wicked king #my writing #jurdan au #text post #okay to reblog

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