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sc0tters · 9 months ago

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Always His | Jack Hughes

summary: you were always meant to be jack's even if he didn't deserve it.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, swearing, slight degradation, p in v, oral (m receiving, hints to f too), mentions of alcohol.

word count: 6.47k

authors note: this was literally all written today so sorry if it is rushed but I wanted it out before the game (yes we manifested a bit in it) but this is too feed all of the girlies who needed it after the jack content that has come with the stadium series. to the anon who wanted jack and lukes best friend I hope you like this! our honourable mentions today though are @babydollmarauders for picking this plot (cause I'm indecisive) so lets than her for this one coming when it did!

You knew it was stupid coming to New Jersey this weekend.

Jack hadn’t stopped arguing with you since you arrived and Luke thought that he had woken up in some fever dream where his best friend and brother were at odds. You had been around the Hughes family for the last twelve years so it was no surprise that you and Luke grew so close. Being at Umich too it only then on solidified that friendship and everyone swore you were bound to be his one day.

But what they didn’t know was how complicated your past was with Jack. He was always the hot older brother that probably put up with you for the sakes of Luke. So last year when you were at the lake house soaking up the much needed vitamin D, you seemed to finally break Jack.

Not in the sense of emotionally, but you went from being Luke’s best friend to Luke’s hot best friend almost over night. No longer was Jack stopping Trevor’s little flirty comments to you because they were weird, now he wanted to be the one to say them instead. Yet Jack managed to keep his lips shut all the way until your final night at the lake house.

Almost everyone was asleep in the house as the clocks struck 3:19 which meant that nobody noticed when you and Jack were down by the pool table “you are gonna get me in trouble Blossom.” Jack had called you that for years after a Halloween party where you and two of your friends ended up as the power puff girls.

It made you smile as you looked up to see him staring “not doing anything wrong Jacky.” You pointed out as you shook your head “you sure about that doll?” He asked letting out a gasp as your ass went into the air as you potted the ball.

A smirk formed on your lips as you stood up straight “pretty sure.” You watched him take two big steps across the table and before he knew it he was right by your side “think you need to change your answer.” He clicked his tongue when his hands clung to your hips.

The power dynamic had switched as Jack had you swearing you were dreaming “you shouldn’t-” you warned as his lips hovered over yours letting any bit of self restraint leave your body.

Jack scanned your face as he looked for any kind of actual discomfort “tell me you want me to go upstairs without you.” He was amused as he knew he was pushing your buttons in just the right ways.

As your silence made him think that he had gone too far so as he began to pull away it seemed to trigger your mind. Your hands were quick to cup his cheeks bringing his lips onto yours.

Whilst your tongues fought in this needy battle Jack didn’t hesitate to push you onto the pool table letting his hands fiddle with the waistband of your shorts “Jack.” You moaned feeling his teeth graze over your lower lip.

His pupils were blown as they stared directly at yours “I got you Bloss.” The hockey player mumbled as left a trail of hungry kisses down your jaw.

Your legs swing as they hang over the edge of the table “if you aren’t gonna continue then I need you to stop.” You announced feeling yourself get hot under his touch “because I won’t be able to stop myself if you don’t.” Your breath hit the shell of his ear making him grunt.

Jack used little strength to pick you up as your legs locked around his waist “I want you tonight, all of you.” He mumbled kissing your lips again before he walked you both upstairs.

That night caused a fire to roar in your chest as the memories of his hands on your skin plagued your brain. But what you could never seem to shake was the way that he had left you to wake up the next morning all alone. The little evidence that he had been in your room was gone as his T-shirt that had been in your pile of clothes disappeared.

To say you were hurt was an understatement yet the final blow to your heart was that Jack hadn’t just left your room, he left the house. The middle Hughes boy made sure that he was out all day only coming home once he was sure you were at the airport. What made it all that much worse was that he wouldn’t even respond to your messages.

So after a week of trying to get answers from the boy, you stopped caring. You hated how much you had to care about it. Nights were spent avoiding your friends and their nights out as you stayed in your dorm to watch the devils play. You tried so hard to hate him but you couldn’t, and that’s how your friends ended up pulling you out of your rut.

It wasn’t pretty to put it lightly. You were a mess and needed a change which your friends were sure to give you. Jack watched from afar as things began to change. It started with your hair and then before he knew it you were in these tight outfits that had were flashed around your Instagram as you grew closer to the male athletes on campus.

As much as, he wanted to be jealous Jack knew he had brought it on himself. Luke was confused as he watched you step away from him, avoiding all in person contact when you knew that Jack would be there too.

That only worked for so long though as February finally came around and you were left out of excuses to send Luke as to why you were avoiding him. That’s how you landed up on the flight to New Jersey. Of course Jack had no clue you were coming as neither you nor Luke went to offer the boy the courtesy of telling him.

Luke didn’t hesitate to pick you up the moment you were in arms reach of him “Lukey!” You squealed as you were thrown over his shoulder “put me down!” You groaned feeling him almost lose his grip on your legs.

He laughed as he placed you back on the ground “gosh I’ve missed you so much.” Luke mumbled as he pulled you into a hug “too much.” It was the classic bone crushing hug that he loved to give you.

The boy was quick to let you go as he smiled “you’re gonna love the boys.” Luke squeezed your hand as he dragged you through the airport not giving you a chance to respond.

Nerves began to crawl through your body as you found yourself regretting leaving Michigan as you got to the door of the apartment. Jack’s laughter could be heard from inside and you tried your best to act as if it wasn’t terrifying you “you okay?” Luke’s voice was barely a whisper as he saw how your eyes were wide.

You could try to lie to him. You could have tried to say that you were tired or ready to see his family. But Luke knew you like the back of his hand and he would have seen through your lies “just thinking about this weekend.” You were thinking about seeing Jack again but thankfully Luke brought it.

He squeezed your hand once more before he unlocked the door “you took forever!” Jack complained as he dropped his phone into the couch as he locked eyes with you “Bloss.” His eyes grew wide as you tucked your hair behind your ear.

Luke lugged your suitcase into the apartment “hey Jack.” You chewed at the inside of your cheek as all of the emotions that you felt the day he left you come rushing back to you “why are you two being weird?” Luke had watched you both grow comfortable with each other over the summer so now as you stood in tension laced air it was suffice to say that the youngest Hughes noticed.

Jack sat up as he shook his head “just didn’t expect to see her here.” The center wanted to pay little mind to the fact that the last time he saw you, the sun ran through your half drawn curtains and hit your sleeping face to make you look beautiful “think mom said she wanted to talk to you though.” Jack lied handing the youngest Hughes boy his boy before he grabbed you by your arm.

It made a level of panic set through your body “I’ll show you around though.” His tone had him clearly irritated as pulled you into the kitchen “what the fuck are you doing here!” Jack whisper yelled pushing you against the counter top as he sent you a glare.

Your palms grow sweaty as your brain disconnected itself from the rest of your mind “didn’t realise that I fucked you dumb.” He spat as your silence only seemed to piss him off more than “Luke invited me.” You explained crossing your arms as you sent him a scowl.

You watched him process your response as he rolled his eyes “and you decided to come to this of all things?” You knew Jack could be cruel but you had never seen it in person before “Luke started to think that I was mad at him.” You shrugged him off knowing that the answer was more than likely not what he wanted to hear.

As his laugh echoed in your ears you were proved right as you found yourself growing more embarrassed by the second “you start worrying about your friend?” His taunts came as a never ending attack “yes Jack because I’m not a total ass like you.” You spat quickly coming to terms with the fact that the night you spent with Jack was only ever going to be a mere memory.

The boy ran his fingers through his hair as he let out a groan of frustration “just stay out of my way this weekend?” You were unsure if he was asking or telling you to do that but as you saw heard Luke hang up on the call with Ellen, you didn’t want to wait around with Jack “don’t have to tell me twice.” You grumbled pushing past the hockey player as you hit his shoulder on the way out.

At the family skate session came along Jack had to watch you make good on your side of the agreement. Every guy but Jack were privy to your attention but it seemed that as you struggled to skate in a straight line Nico found his place next to you. The interactions were nothing beyond innocent as Nico wanted to know why this was his first time the team was meeting the girl that Luke wouldn’t shut up about. The questions then had to turn to the fact that that Jack had stopped skating as he was now staring daggers at his teammate “should I be worried that Jack is looking at me like that?” Nico’s voice was barely above a whisper as he whispered that into your ear.

You turned to see Jack until he locked eyes with you which made him quickly turn away from you both “Jack is just Jack sometimes I guess?” You let out an awkward laugh “thought it would have been Luke who would have had us all banned from talking to you.” Nico didn’t think much more of it and you were grateful for that as he was quick to pull your attention to Luke in the middle of a media session.

Thankfully for you that was the most you really saw Jack as he made sure to avoid you, the only interactions you ended up having were when he came into the kitchen for his morning coffee and you were still half asleep on the couch. It wasn’t a reality you enjoyed but you assumed that it was the universe’s way of sending you a bit of karma for sleeping with your best friend’s brother. And you stupidly thought that you would be able to get through the entirety of the weekend avoiding Jack, yet Saturday night brought a different story.

The team went out to celebrate the win with their family and friends but you ended up wanting your bed - or in this case your couch - as you wanted to make little effort in trying to communicate with Jack “you sure you don’t want me to take you home?” Luke honestly wanted to spend his time with you and he didn’t mind if that meant leaving the team “no Lu, you go have your fun.” You squeezed his shoulder as you shook your head.

Ellen and Jim were stood waiting for you both as Jack was nowhere in sight “I can get an uber back to yours if you give me your keys.” You held your hand out ready to get your way “I’ll take her home.” The offer made you freeze as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

You didn’t even want to turn around as you knew he was looking at you “glad to see you can still be nice Jack.” Ellen teased as she hinted to the fact that she knew something was going on between you both as neither one of you could offer anything more than a glare to the other “you know me.” Jack placed his hand on your back as you chewed at your cheek knowing that Luke was studying your reactions.

He sent you a final look before he kissed your head “I’ll see you when I get home okay?” Fearing what you might let slip from your lips you nodded sending Luke your best smile “have good night you two.” Jim wrapped his arm Ellen before the trio walked off.

The moment they were out of earshot you began to walk off “where do you think that you’re going?” Jack asked as he crossed his arms “home.” You yelled back not daring to turn around.

Jack couldn’t help but roll his eyes “the car is this way.” He pointed to behind himself as it finally made you turn around “I am walking.” You quipped back making his eyes go wide as he took the short few strides to get back to you.

His grip around your wrist was sore “like hell you are.” Jack wanted to kill you for being so stupid. New Jersey at night in the cold was dangerous for anyone, especially for a girl who didn’t know the state. It made you grow angry as he acted like he cared “this is me staying out of your way so why do you care?” You let your brows form a fine line as you glared at him “look if I drive you home we can talk about it there.” Jack let out a groan as he didn’t think that you would be putting up a fight with him for this.

Your mind swayed back and forth as you knew that Luke would want you home safe “fine.” You sighed as you raked your fingers through your hair “gad to see you can still use that brain of yours.” Jack mumbled as he was honestly relieved that he didn’t have to carry you back to his car.

The ride was probably the most awkward thing you had ever been through. Your eyes were locked to your window as you refused to look in Jack’s direction. He was also irritated as he gripped the steering wheel, Jack played the moments from the lake house over in his head.

It was barely 6:00 when Jack woke up, the foreign aspects of the room around him reminded Jack of the events from a few hours ago. Soft breaths left your lips as you snuggled into your pillow “why’d you have to go ahead and be Luke’s best friend.” Jack sighed as he stared at your sleeping state “could have made my life so much easier if you didn’t break his tooth.” You and Luke became the best of friends after you both ended up laughing once Luke got a softball to the mouth when he offered to help you practice for the upcoming season. Jack always did envy his brother for getting you and he buried those emotions through acting like you were irritating.

Quinn’s voice echoed through the hall as he was on the phone to Olivia who was in Europe awaiting her boyfriend’s arrival “thanks for the night Blossom.” Jack kissed your forehead, careful not to wake you up as you began to stir in your sleep. The middle Hughes boy did his best to ignore the way that guilt consumed his mind. With one quick movement he took his clothes off of your floor as he sent you one final look before he snuck out of your room.

He felt like he was in the middle of a back and forth with himself as he sighed; this wasn’t something he could do again because as much as you might have been good for him, Jack knew he wasn’t good for you. And that was enough for him to make sure you didn’t have a reason to argue with him, it’s the very reason he made sure he wasn’t home when you woke up.

As you let the apartment door slam shut behind you Jack was pulled away from the memory, as happy or sad as it might have been. You headed straight to the kitchen “don’t walk away from me!” Jack dropped his keys in the bowl by his table as he scoffed “you did it to me first.” You were quick to quip back as the words rolled off of your tongue.

It made Jack scoff “that’s not fair.” He shook his head following you into the room as he was now ready to open the can of worms that you were angling to “you want me to tell you what isn’t fucking fair Jack?” You took a step closer to him as you swore that his words were cruel.

You felt tears form in your eyes even as you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you like that “having to wake up alone and get treated like the biggest mistake of your life.” Your voice broke by the end of your words as you didn’t think you would have the power within yourself to hold it together “so you don’t get to stand here and act like I’m being some brat for no fucking reason.” You spat as you went to leave yet you were pulled back by his hand around yours.

Jack cleared his throat as he sighed “I did it to protect you and Luke!” It was no secret that Luke would have been heart broken if he knew that there was something going on with you and one of his brothers, that was a line you were never allowed to cross unscathed.

Yet his words didn’t bring you the comfort he would have hoped for as it made you roll your eyes“don’t roll your eyes at me.” Jack scowled closing the gap to nothing between you both “or what?” You grumbled still agitated as you were left wanting to slap him.

The middle Hughes boy clicked his tongue “I’m not against fucking this bratty attitude out of you.” He warned making you scoff “what about protecting Luke?” You weren’t against using his words from just a few second ago against him as they ran off your tongue.

Jack laughed as he ran his fingers through the ends of your hair “seems like he can handle sharing you so well already.” His voice was laced with envy as he remembered watching you hold onto Nicos arm for dear life and Luke didn’t even bat an eye at it.

You knew it was truly wrong to admit but you were now feeling flustered “so this is all cause you couldn’t handle me getting a little male attention?” You cocked your head as you fiddled with the ends of your sleeves “you got a lot more than a little.” Jack’s voice was barely above a mumble.

Your eyes locked onto his as a smirk formed on your lips “not from anyone that mattered.” It seemed to be the line that got to Jack as he brought his hands to your cheeks as he kissed you.

It wasn’t like the lake house when it was full of lust, this time it seemed that frustration drove that kiss. Milliseconds went by until you had your hands under his shirt trailing up his skin as if this was clockwork in your brains. He let his hand move to the nape of your neck afraid he might lose you if he didn’t hold you. A moan left your lips as his other hand squeezed your ass letting him slide his tongue into your mouth.

He truly never thought he would be the kind of guy who could find himself obsessed with how sweet someone could be. No longer did you have the taste of the cheap beer that Trevor bought on your tongue and now you were like an addictive substance to Jack “fuck you’re such a pretty fucking girl.” He groaned pulling his lips away from yours as he picked you up letting the actions mirror those of the night at the lake house.

A squeal left your lips as you steadied yourself on him with your arms around his neck “shame you had to not be in my jersey though.” The hockey player mumbled as he pecked your lips taking the short walk to his room with you in his arms.

The moment you two walked in there you let your foot shut the door as you didn’t want to break the kiss “you get me in your jersey when you don’t act like a child.” You announced remembering the fact that Jack had been watching you in all of Luke’s merchandise and clothing all weekend.

You were unsure if what you said was right when he practically threw you to his bed “was gonna treat you like a princess tonight but it seems like all you wanna do is keep on acting like a brat.” Jack sighed as he pulled his coat off of his shoulders “and we all know that brats don’t get rewarded.” He leaned down letting his mouth ghost your ear.

Your gasps went straight to his cock as it grew hard against his jeans “then why am I here for you?” It was a blow that made him tug his fingers in the roots of your hair “god are you always this fucking talkative?” Jack spat as he rolled his eyes “really think I need to shut you up.” He mumbled to himself hating how you pushed his buttons and that he actually enjoyed it too.

His nimble fingers undid his pants letting them drop to his knees as Jack let his hand wrap around his aching cock whilst he pumped it a few times “you remember our safe word?” The hockey player wasn’t a monster and make sure you had a word you could use if he pushed you too far “Ace.” You nodded feeling your mouth water at the sight of his precum oozing out of his swollen head.

Jack watched you take some kind of initiative as you moved your hips closer to the edge of his bed only stopping when his cock was merely centimeters away from your face “you look so pretty down there.” The compliment made you squirm as your tongue began to do these kitten licks to his cock peppering kisses on the swollen tip “c’mon Bloss you know how to use your mouth properly so don’t start with this shit.” Jack warned as he reminded you about the last time that you had sucked him off.

That was all it took for you to force your lips around his cock beginning to take as much of him as you could “that wasn’t so hard now was it my sweet girl?” He spoke through gritted teeth as you began to settle on a steady rhythm with your hands going flat against his thighs “let me see your pretty face as you suck my cock f’me.” Jack cooed running his fingers through your hair as he made a makeshift ponytail up as his hands helped you take more of him.

Your tongue swirled around his cock as you looked up at him through your batted eyelashes “tried playing nice and like a good big brother when I could have had all this.” Jack grumbled letting his grip around your head tighten as he grew annoyed “cause you just know you’re my little slut ain’t ya Blossom?” Your thighs came together to suppress the desire that came through your mind as you hollowed out your cheeks.

Even if you had only slept with him once before this you knew how to get Jack to the point of no return and that was through turning your mouth into a vacuum of sorts “god you’re so fucking good at this.” Jack groaned as he shook his head as his eyes screwed shut “just like that and then I’ll fuck you real good.” The offer didn’t go missed even as you opened your throat to take more of him.

It was that gesture that sent him over the edge as his body began to shake “you gonna let me make a mess in that pretty little mouth of yours?” He asked surprising himself that the question even came out of his lips. All you could do was nod in response as the sounds of you gagging around him and the warm feeling of your mouth practically sucking him like a straw were enough to push Jack over the edge “right there f-uck!” The hockey player kept your lips wrapped around him for a few more seconds forcing you to breathe through your nose as he began to get control over his breathing again.

Your mouth felt warm as his cock slid out of your mouth leaving your jaw sore “lemme see you swallow that f’me doll.” He mumbled softly placing his hand around your throat so that he could feel you swallow before you stuck your tongue out. Jack watched in awe as a string of spit left his lips and landed on your tongue as you brought it back into your mouth pressing your lips shut “good girl.” He good bending down to peck your lips.

He was reminded on the 43 jersey you were in and that brought a scowl to his lips “think it’s about time I get you out of this.” He added as he shook his head still cringing at the fact that you were in someone else’s jersey “you jealous or something Jacky?” You teased as his fingers ran over the waistline making you lift your arms up.

Jack scoffed as he rolled his eyes “ya cause I’m gonna be jealous of someone else when it’s me who get’s to fuck you at the end of the night?” The hockey player could have laughed at the absurdity behind your words “I could have any man that I wanted.” Even you were unsure of your words as you were left in your bra.

It made him smirk as he crouched to be eye level with you once more “you could have anyone.” He nodded as he took in the sight of the lacey bra against your skin “but you choose to fuck me each time it seems.” You didn’t know how he did it, Jack could take your insults to him and fully flip them on It’s head.

The hockey player ran his finger up your chest from the valley between your breast “don’t go getting in your head now Blossom.” He pleaded as he hooked his fingers under your chin as he forced you to look at him “you gonna let me make you feel good tonight doll?” It seemed that his pet names for you were in full use tonight as if he feared that he would never get the chance to use them on you ever again.

Yet it was so much more complicated than that as you nodded “make me feel special Jacky.” You begged as your voice got caught in your throat “you are forever my special girl Blossom.” Jack mumbled as he stripped you out of your pants and undergarments leaving you fully nude whilst he still had his shirt on “this is mean Jack.” You complained making him smile.

He pressed his lips against yours as he his hands came down on either side of you “just like seeing how wet you get for me.” He confessed eating up the way you whimpered in response “don’t even think that I need to get you ready for me.” The boy confessed as you nodded before he leaned back up to pull the shirt off his body when he kicked his pants off “need your cock.” You begged feeling his fingers run up and down your slit spreading your wetness over your clit “when you ask me so nicely how could I say no?” The question was rhetorical as the sound of him ripping open the condom wrapper was like music to your ears.

Your legs on impulse came up as your heels pressed against your ass “look at you getting all ready f’me.” Jack cooed as he rolled the condom over hid hardening cock “been thinking about doing this all weekend.” He confessed as he ran the covered head over your slit and down your slit before he stopped it at your glistening hole.

His eyes never left yours “yet you had to go act like-“ you were quickly cut off when Jack bottom you out leaving you both silent as your cunt stretched to hug his cock “I act like what?” Jack’s lips found your neck as he began to nip at the skin making you moan.

Jack gave you a few seconds to settle into it before he began moving again “like a fucking asshole.” You moaned bringing your hands up between your bodies as you went to tease your breasts “those are mine Bloss.” He shook his head “and since I’m such an asshole ‘m not gonna share.” It was a quick movement that had your legs over his shoulders as he arched his back allowing him to bring his lips to your nipple.

The feeling made your eyes flutter as his cock hit parts of you that you truly didn’t think were possible “just like that Jack.” You whispered digging your shoulder blades into your bed as you moaned “why are you so quiet?” It was like he wasn’t okay with that as he rolled his eyes “got the whole fucking apartment to yourself so I wanna hear you tell Jersey who is fucking you like this.” Your cunt clenched around him as his words brought this new possessive sense over him.

It made Jack smirk as he brought his lips back up to yours “you enjoy it when I tell you you’re mine?” You weren’t sure if he actually meant it but those words from his lips made you feel like you were dreaming “so so much.” You nodded as he kissed your lips finally tasting his salty release on your tongue that made his cock throb all over again.

The chain that he was wearing from his pregame outfit was still on and it hit your chin as Jack began to quicken his thrusts “wanna make such a fucking mess in your cunt.” His hand softly slapped your thigh as you bit your lip “remember I wanna hear you or I stop.” His warning was all too serious for you as you felt your coil in your stomach begin to tighten.

A flurry of moans and incoherent sounds left your lips as you panicked “you fuck me so good.” Was the only thing he understood before you let his chain get trapped between your lips “you getting close pretty girl?” Jack asked as he let his hand trail between your two sweaty bodies feeling your cunt practically suffocate his cock.

Your head bobbed as he took it as the chance to increase the pace of his thrusts only resulting in a cry that left your throat feeling raw when his fingers began rubbing at your clit “theres my sweet girl.” Jack cooed as the sound of skin slapping echoed in your ears “Jacky ‘m gonna come.” You announced as your legs began to shake trying to trap Jack in your grip.

He shook his head “fucking hold it.” All Jack needed was a little more as he could feel himself not far behind you at all “please!” You begged not knowing how much more of this you could take as it felt like al of the air within your lungs had been taken from you.

His lips were rough against your jaw “told you to fucking hold it.” Jack spat clearly not interested in your complaints as your fingers tugged through his hair “fuck baby you are perfect.” He grunted as you tried to kiss him needing something to stop you from begging and pleading with him to make you come as you feared that you might then not come at all tonight.

You didn’t even stop to notice his words as they were shortly followed by “make a mess on my cock Bloss.” You didn’t need to be told twice and you felt your eyes roll back into your head as your cunt practically spasmed around his cock “fuck fuck shit!” You groaned letting your toes curl as tour body writhed against his.

Jack’s orgasm shortly followed yours as he tried his hardest to fuck you through yours “got you my girl.” He mumbled kissing your shoulder blade as he went to rest his head from a moment when his movements stifled. You both lay there for a few moments trying to catch your breath “holy shit.” Your chest heaved as he slid out of you making him laugh.

The sight of your release oozing out of your cunt made Jack feel warm inside “holy shit in deed.” He nodded in agreement pecking your lips before he got up “think you are up for a bath?” Aftercare did happen to be something that Jack was surprisingly good at but these were stops he only ever pulled for you.

You nodded as you sent him a soft smile “always.” As he picked you up and brought you into the bathroom it was no secret that you were close to falling asleep and Jack was honestly surprised you held out on shutting your eyes until you got dress and was tucked back into his bed where the warmth of his covers took over.

As you woke up with an arm still firmly gripped around your waist you couldn’t help but blink repeatedly gaining your bearings of this foreign room. A soft groan left your lips as you rolled over to see Jack smiling back at you “hey Bloss.” His words were soft as he ran his hand up your side.

You sent him a dull smile as you yawned “think I need to get up.” You went to lean forward as the center stopped you “told Luke you went for a run.” Jack handed you back your phone as he didn’t want to lean over you again to continue charging it.

The boy went to kiss your lips but you were only confused as you looked at him “you know my password?” You tried to remain calm as there were definitely a set of lingerie pictures that you did not want him to ever see.

Your worries made him laugh “you’re gonna have to pick something a little bit harder than your birthday if you want to act shocked.” Jack teased making your cheeks turn red “you’re cute when you get all flustered.” He added delivering the compliment as though it was liquid gold.

His fingers were rough against your jaw as he hooked them under your chin “what are we doing Jack?” You sighed pressing your hand against his chest as you feared not having the strength to say this to him tomorrow.

He frowned as he looked at you “I was gonna kiss ya.” The hockey player pointed out in a duh tone “I mean this.” You motioned between the two of you as this was the second time you landed up in his bed in eight months.

The boy sighed as it was clearly something he didn’t want to talk about “why does it have to be anything?” Jacks words struck you like a slap to the face “you said you liked me last night.” Amid all the arguing you still remembered his confession.

Jack watched you sit up straight as you were met with his silence “let’s just keep things casual.” Jack meant what he said about being worried about hurting Luke and you were still in college and over an hour away by plane. He wouldn’t say this part to you but he was also scared of committing to you and having it stay that way.

Your entire body cringed “so you can continue fucking every little puck bunny that lays her eyes on you?” It was a low blow but you were hurt “firstly I haven’t slept with anyone since the lake house.” He pointed his finger at you making you go quiet.

He continued on “I wanna scream that you’re mine from the roof but now just isn’t the right time for us to get serious.” Jack knew how to make you turn to putty in his hands “you’re right.” You didn’t even know if you agreed with him.

But as he flipped you over leaving you on your back you couldn’t say no to him “of course I am.” Jack nodded letting his lips nip at your skin.

It made a breath catch in your throat “now stop using your pretty little head and let me make you feel good.” He ordered pushing your shirt over your stomach “please Jack.” Your voice was airy as you felt him pull your legs apart letting him face your soaked cunt.

You couldn’t help but wonder as you watched Jack lower his head, if he was truly stupid enough to think that you would wait for him.

But in reality, maybe it was that you craved his love enough to stay, so what would happen when a certain Wolverine began to play his cards right with you?

#jack hughes smut #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes oneshots #nhl smut #nhl imagines #hockey smut #hockey imagines #imagines #oneshots #hockey oneshots #nhl oneshots #amber writes fics

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notquitejiraiya · 2 months ago

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9 Years

Well, here we are again. Back to spew some nonsense you could’ve done without about fic writing and otherwise. As a small introduction to myself, if you miraculously come across this before anything else I’ve done online: hiya, I’m Becks. When I was fifteen years old I decided that I was going to create a Naruto specific blog to post fanfiction on and 9 years later, I’m still here.

This is only my third reflection of those 9 years, the first and second of which you can find linked respectively, but it’s the 24th of September, and so here I am, ready to continue a tradition set by the wonderful @unioncolours of documenting her years in fandom. Sink your teeth in below the cut off if you so wish. If not, have a wonderful day ♥️

Before I talk about myself, a little thank you to her, to Bex. Two days ago, she posted what I consider to be her most powerful reflection yet, and I command the lot of you to read it, feel it, and walk away demanding you treat yourself and others kindly for this year and all those to come. Her heartfeltness and honesty is something all of us should learn from, and it is an honour to share my forename, space, fandom, world with her. Thank you, Bex, for all you do, here and away.

Now, the first thing I must address about this Rebecca here is “job no1”, as I called it in last year’s recap. “Job no1” was to become more concise.

It is safe to say that I did not get hired for “job no1.” Not yet, anyway. Perhaps on the future. Maybe. We’re still in the interview stages, and you know how many rounds these things take.

To set the tone of this past year, I will admit that it is the 24th of September, not just when I post this reflection, but as I write it. As mentioned, I have only written two recaps of this sort in my fandom career, both of which were written ahead of time and posted on the day with little stress. This one is being bashed out when the sun is already setting, and time is running out.

Time is something that has fascinated me for years; it’s something I’ve written scientifically on, written fiction about in short spells, and something I’ve come to respect a bit more over the last year, too. It’s something I’ve especially enjoyed playing with and writing about in the one fic that I’ve published/added to this year. In Grandmaster, one of my favourite passages from the fic and one of the bits I’m most proud of involves time. But I won’t dwell on that. Grandmaster — or GM, as I affectionately call it — will get its moment later on. For now, let us focus still on time.

I’ve had a strange amount of it this past year. I wouldn’t say I’ve had too much, nor particularly little, on average, but I certainly feel as though I have. Even if not, it’s slipped away from me, and this year that feels rather damning. You see, as you might know, I live in Finland at the moment. I say ‘at the moment’ because this time next year, when I’m writing my next recap, that will no longer be true. I already no longer live 40 minutes from the front door of my best friend — moving in the summer upped it to almost an hour — and by next year I won’t be able to jump up, hop on a train and see her when the mood (and life) suits. Many rather saddening things have hammered home time to me since last September, but even considering that one thought makes time seem rather fleeting. I need to treasure it until the summer, and so forgive me if my time at my laptop is a little less than it once was.

More relevant to you reading this, perhaps, is the amount of this year that I have been able to spend writing. Without examining the statistics, I feel like I’ve barely written this year. I know that that is ultimately not true; I have made good progress with GM, and have written snippets of works to come. But I still feel as though I haven’t had the time in year 9 that I would’ve liked, and even less than the small amount I dared to expect.

In the time I did spend writing, though, I largely spent it on GM, so it only feels right that I dedicate a sizable portion of this recap to that fic.

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that GM has consumed me. I view the world through a different lens having conceptualised, written, and frankly breathed the world in that story. I see situations in the real-life chess, and I imagine where that might happen in the GM-timeline, were it there. I see the people I envision when the scene play out like theatre performances in my head, and I think about GM, even when it’s totally irrelevant. Even just a face. I hear songs, and I think about GM. I watch movies, and I think about GM. I sit on the bus or god forbid the train, it rains or it shines, and I think about GM.

I have never, in my life, felt a story in my bones like this. When it ends, which this year it certainly must, I will cry. Don’t get me wrong, I won’t cry because it’s over — I will cry because I will remember all the countless hours that have gone into not just writing but thinking about this fic. It is a part of my daily life and has been for such a long time now. I don’t go an hour, let alone a day, without thinking about it. It has been in progress for over 2 years — during every every wrapup I have written, it has been in progress — and 2 nights ago, I finally posted a chapter, the heart of which I first sent to my friends almost as long ago.

I won’t spoil the contents, as I’m sure many of you may not have read it, but I’ll admit now that I cried as I went to sleep after posting it. It took me three months to be happy with that chapter. Three months. That long to accept a chapter that I knew I had the core, important part of set and the was happy with since almost two years ago. It felt and still feels ridiculous to me. Even three days ago I felt like, surely, I had forgotten how to write. Or maybe I just had never known how to write in the first place. I had lost my touch, at the very least, the very spark that made anyone read more than the first paragraph. How in the world could it be that I manage to write these core lines two years ago, when GMverse was Strangers and only Strangers, yet having honed the voice of this story for so long, I now couldn’t write a single good word?

I felt like such a failure. I felt like there was no way I was ever going to finish it, and if I did, I was sure I wouldn’t be happy with it. But I told myself that I was going to post the fic on Majsasaurus day and so I said, “Fuck it,” to my assignments and I finished it.

I was late hour, but I almost did it. When I read it back before posting, I cursed myself for all the clunky sentences and obnoxious descriptions — which may not even exist, I don’t know — but I still pressed post at the end, and I immediately felt proud of it.

It’s incredible when you realise you can do that. I think perhaps it’s a skill that doesn’t make sense to people when they first start writing. Not giving a fuck, that is. I know I was guilty of it for a very long time, but there’s no point in being a perfectionist, especially if you’re trying to write about realistic people. Real people are so far from perfect that you’re fucking kidding yourself if you waste your time on such things. Year 9 has been a lot about that: settling. Settling for grades in uni I once would’ve beaten myself up over. Settling for a sentence that I know could be worded better, in theory, but I’m not yet the writer who can word it that way. I’ll meet her one day, maybe. But before I get to, I have to mould her. I won’t do that without writing more and more.

In any case, in the words of Shikamaru in my own fic: “They’re just words. They don’t mean anything unless you let them.”

In line with that thought, I want to thank you all for your theories and thoughts and engagement with GM. The fact so many of you have managed to find some meaning or emotion in it that matters to you specifically, even if that differs between people, amazes me daily. It makes me emotional and humbles me and all manner of things I could write an entire reflection on.

It is on that note that, I would like to extend a particuar mention to @twnj who has brought to life so many scenes in GM with her beautiful artwork as well as created so many fun headcanons for outside of it. I am so lucky to have met and to know you, and it is a pleasure being rambly with you, my dear.

I also would like to shout out @backgroundcharacterno5 for creating one of most incredible things I have ever seen by way of this comic. You brought that scene to life more beautifully than I ever could’ve imagined even in my own head, and I cannot thank you enough for thinking of GM at all. Thank you.

And finally, the book club. Learning of your existence blew my fucking mind, and it continues to. I refer to you this way because I do not know exactly how many of you there are, but I bloody love you all, even those of you I have never spoken to. The comments I received from you and from every reader, even if I am shit at replying to them, move me and inspire me endlessly. Your analysis and theories and reactionary comments thrill me and make my heart sing. So thank you. So much.

With GM this past year, I feel I have reached a point as a writer that I never expected to, and am endlessly proud of. I never expected people to be so engaged with something I wrote — I thought I was a one- or maybe two-trick pony with song inspired banter-filled one shots and depressing britishisms. But this year showed me that that isn’t true. Do I have the widest range? No, and I’ve made peace with that. But does that devalue what I make? No. I love it. I have fun making it. And as an incredible, frankly unexpected cherry on top, so do some of you. So thank you for that. You’ve ticked so many of my author bucket list dreams in a single year.

As I have certainly mentioned in past ‘blog’-type posts, there are elements of GM which are personal to me, but in the coming year, I will introduce to you what I consider my most personal fic yet. While I may lend things I have overheard or observed, I rarely let myself into my own work too heavily. I value the power of looking over a shoulder, and do try my best to do that. But I rarely force my shoes on a character.

Piano Man (affectionately referred to by myself and those closest as GMJ) will not be like that either. Not on purpose. It will not be a 1-to-1 retelling of my life, the opinions and feelings and experiences within it will by no means be my own, but it will be an expression of things I love and know more directly than before.

GMJ will be set some 20+ years after Strangers, so I am still not escaping this universe I’ve built for myself (not that I want to escape it). It will follow one of my most beloved characters in Shikadai, and how he meets someone he really ought to have known his whole life, but by chance, has not: Inojin.

Any writing I have done that is not GM this year has been ShikaJIn. I know that many of you who follow me, do so for ShikaTema. I wonder if there are even so many of you now that joined for GM that ‘CHESS’ and ‘Cloud Nine’ are now irrelvant in my list of past fics. But regardless of what you’re here for, and whether you ship them now or not, I hope that you’ll stick around for GMJ. It is not a ship fic anymore than GM is, and I like to think that perhaps you trust me by now to tell you a story you might enjoy.

Besides GMJ I have dabbled in a couple of other potential AUs, the most promising of which is a wartime au, which came about after my dear friend Bex suggested that @clumsydragon28 and I read a book she was reading: In Memoriam. IM was one of the most fun reading experiences I have ever had, and I cannot reccomend reading with your friends enough. The joy is something I can’t quantify, and I will treasure that experience forever.

I myself have read more books this year than I have in years. I haven’t read so many fics, which saddens me, but I am so pleased that there is space in my life for fiction and stories again besides thsoe in my own head.

One of the books of this year will no doubt come when I return home to England for Christmas, because last year, darling Barb sent me (and Bex) a goodie box from across the Atlantic. In it, she placed the US edition of my favourite book: The Beach. It will get loved and cherished this year with its first physical read. I promise.

There are so many other things that I could say here, but ultimately, I don’t know that I have the time. All I can say is that I am so grateful for the people of this fandom space, old friends and new, and even those that have not shown me kindness this past year — you have hardened me to realise I am worth more than I thought.

The next recap I write will mark a decade of notquitejiraiya. That, in itself, seems absurd. But I am certain that I go into it lucky, and grateful, and really really fucking inspired.

Thank you, all, for another notquitejiraiya year. May the next be sweet and full of more frequent updates than the last! ♥️

(PS - I’ll try to be more consice next year, but I’m not making any promises)

#9 years #fucking blimey

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ink-and-dagger · 26 days ago

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Heyyy Inky!!! Guess who it is! (jk) It's me Galaxy!! I've written the DWM song!!! And recorded it! It's called 'One Drink'. (hehe) It's not done professionally in any way, shape or form, but it's certainly finished. It's just a demo of me singing (badly-ish, ignore my baby voice gah I sound like a twelve year old) with a guitar backing, but I do imagine that if I ever do record this, it will be with more instruments than just guitar. 😅 I really really really really hope you like it. Really. Think of it as a love letter from me to you for writing DWM, because it really has been a major part of my life <3 This link will take you to the audio recording (it's on a google drive. Copy and paste it into your browser!): https://drive.google.com/file/d/1QWXoZ8yZHFXhCAlHE4OZURTQGXzL9tlU/view?usp=sharing And I WAS gonna include a link to a google doc with the lyrics on it... but tumblr's being fussy and won't let me insert it. So, I've decided to just put the lyrics at the bottom of this ask, which is gonna make it very long but oh well. Shit happens. Also, if the audio recording link doesn't work - please please please tell me. I'll figure out another way to send it!

Anyway, the recording is accessible for anyone to copy into their preferred browser to listen to (if it works), so if any other DWM fans see this feel free to listen/read! Again, I hope you like it, Inky. Love you and everything you do <3 - Galaxy P.S. Inky, I would love love love to know every single one of your thoughts on lyrics as well if that's possible!

One Drink - Lyrics. A DWM song <3

Saint was a sinner

And he was feared by almost everyone

He was a ruthless killer

A devil, modern to our time.

She, oh she wasn’t perfect

But compared to him; an angel from our sky.

Astrid. Always searching for her horizon

But it seemed like something she could never find.

She shared a drink with him one night

Apparently she’s the only one that would

He pulled the bottle off the shelf, his inhibitions down you can tell

There’s something he’s suppressed

And the walls began to fall

I guess opposites attract after all

One drink that started it all x3

They, oh they weren’t perfect

They would fight all the time like you and I

One fight, got a little too consuming

The pain was a knife through her heart

He thought he jinxed them

He thought this one was a little too far gone

Their only saving grace was the rose tattoo upon her waist

A symbol that in time they’d be alright

And the walls began to fall

I guess opposites attract after all

One drink that started it all x 6

Saint was a sinner

But she found her horizon in his eyes

GALAXYYYY

I'm squeezing you so tight that you'll need to visit a chiropractor to straighten you back out again. I absolutely love this and i'm so honoured that my story inspired you to create a whole ass SONG?! Thank you so so much.

Also what are you on about singing badly? You've got a great voice! Really pure and folksy - it suits the style of song so well, especially with a solo guitar. Can totally picture you singing this song at nighttime sitting by a campfire with the local townspeople hanging off your every word. Also it's so damn catchy - I was already singing the chorus to myself after just the first listen (I may have listened to it 10 or 20 times since hehe)

Here's a one click link for anyone who wants to listen to Galaxy's amazing song!

And I LOVE all the lyrics! They convey the core essence of Silco and Astrid's characters and story so effectively. That's some serious skill my friend. You did in 200 words what it took me over 138k words to do lmfao.

I started to attempt to write out all my thoughts on the lyrics in this post but I had so many thoughts that it quickly proved too crazy to format on tumblr. SO, I put them in a google doc instead lmfao. You should be able to see my comments on the highlighted text but tell me if not.

Thank you again, truly from the bottom of my heart.

#inky answers #ten thousand smooches for Galaxy <3 #drink with me #DWM #DWM song #original song #silco x astrid #astro #astrid #silco #silco fic #silco x reader #silco x oc

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my-deer-history · 9 months ago

Text

Francis Kinloch in the Müller-Bonstetten letters: Part 1

Here is the first batch of translated instances where Francis Kinloch is mentioned in letters written to Karl Viktor von Bonstetten by Johannes von Müller, a gay Swiss historian who Kinloch lived with while studying in Geneva. Throughout this period (early 1775 onwards), Müller is attempting to write his history of Switzerland, and the American colonies are starting to actively rebel against England.

The original letters were mostly written in German (source), with some translated later into French (source). I have transcribed and translated most of the mentions, but there's quite a lot, so I'm going to divide this into several posts. (@john-laurens - enjoy!)

My translations below, with the German and/or French transcripts under the cut. As always, corrections and improvements are greatly appreciated!

10 March 1775

I advance in the sciences; you love me, because I do you; Kinloch, who gives away his heart so sparingly, addresses his letters to the beloved of my heart,* and we see each other daily [...] When I am by Kinloch’s side at Bonnet’s, and spend an hour talking with him, I am happy and cheerful; thus, says the Quran, does a lightning bolt suddenly illuminate the darkest of nights, but the shadow becomes darker after him.

*This follows a mention in an earlier undated 1775 letter that Kinloch asserted he needed at least one year before he could call anyone "friend". Clearly it happened in a matter of weeks here.

18 Aug 1775

…and Kinloch’s questions made me more aware of many points of our constitutions, especially our lack of political arithmeticians. […] Keep well. Kinloch will write to you soon.

21 Aug 1775

If cruel fate separates Kinloch from me, I will hope to have 25 to 30 louis more per year, with which I will be able to carry out this plan of study by spending the summer months in some of the cantons.

23 Aug 1775

I also do not have time [in this letter] to continue my observations along the mark, the Zurich lake, into the drawing rooms of Füsslin, Heidegger, Gessner, Hirzel, Bodmer, etc., nor to assure you sufficiently of Gessner’s friendship; nor to tell you how much I augment my knowledge of Helvetia [Switzerland], and with what pleasure I read Livius with Kinloch; nor to paint Kinloch’s enthusiasm* for you, and his anger with me because it has been so long since I wrote to you; nor my irreconcilable hatred for you, B. To declare to you in very thunderous and defeating expressions that, contrary to your word and honour, despite my repeated requests in the name of the holiest friendship, you have committed the atrocious crime of not writing me any letters to this day. Write to me today, therefore!

*The archaic meaning of the German Enthusiasmus is more along the lines of fervour, inspiration, or passionate feeling than the modern “enthusiasm” suggests.

“Thursday” [1775]*

We are waiting at present for a letter from Mr Boone, which will inform us whether we, Kinloch and I, may travel together in France, or if I must stay where I am. In the latter case, I will quietly await some opportunity to travel with an Englishman, which would let me see Europe and fix me some income. If Mr Boone and other friends do not find anyone, I will go to England with K at around the end of next year and I will not leave him even if he goes to America.

*The exact dating of this letter is unclear, but it is placed here in the source.

Wednesday, Dec 1775

At this very moment, Kinloch is writing a letter to Mr Boone, which might influence my future destination. If I cannot live as I had hoped, according to what I have told you, I would hope that in the case that I must spend my life in solitude, that I may share yours; but that is the way to live!

26 Dec 1775

I find myself in the midst of great doubts. Kinloch cannot stay here past the end of March; we are waiting for letters from England to inform us whether we have enough money to travel together. The American matters make it very uncertain. And even when this journey is over, this unrest will hinder us from carrying out many projects. And now also comes the newly confirmed expedition against Carolina. In this land, so say the letters, is everything in such disarray, that reason has completely lost its power, all courts have decided that no law shall be enforced anymore, all the stations have mixed together, and the clergy preach nothing but rebellion. And the rebellious faction is so powerful that they have decided to send all women and children into the interior of the country, to burn the whole city of Charlestown to ash, and to fight the English over its ruins. Imagine Kinloch’s heart, and his noble mother in this horrid land, fleeing, exposed to all the malice of the soldiers, all the bouts of depredation, hunger and shortages of all kinds. It is very possible that Kinloch himself will lose everything, that his plantations will be laid waste. Imagine for yourself what we must think and feel about all of this.

9 Jan 1776

We have letters from England that confirm the degree to which the entire coast of the North American sea is given to flames and devastation; they also state that the fleet against Carolina has already sailed. Kinloch and I have developed a project for our destination, which will, in all likelihood, be carried out for our shared benefit. At the beginning of April, my friend will go to France to a provincial town; I will go to Genthod to the wise men (these we, i.e. those from Genthod and I, are still keeping a secret at this time on account of certain people). Towards autumn, I will go to Marseille or Lyon, find Kinloch there, go with him to Rome and from there through Tyrol and Bavaria down into the Netherlands, right to the sea. In this way, I will be able to complete most of my material collecting in the summer and have an educational and enjoyable winter. And beyond that? you will ask me. Within one year, it will become clear if America is still inhabitable, if Lord North is still prime minister, if Kinloch will settle in England or America. We will decide accordingly.

19 Feb 1776

Your letters always bring me great pleasure, but it has been a long time since any letter or occurrence has caused me as much pleasure as your second-to-last one did. Your eloquence is Demosthenic when friendship has inspired you, but your heart is full of the greatest and noblest virtues. Bonnet and Kinloch felt a real enthusiasm for you. I however am more determined than ever to follow your advice. [Lists several of his good fortunes.] Mr Bonnet, Mrs Bonnet and Kinloch and all my best friends, besides philosophy and politics - to whom do I owe all of these? Ask yourself!

10 March 1775

In den Wissenschaften schreite ich fort; Sie lieben mich, wie ich Sie; Kinloch, der so karg sein Herz versschenkt, addressirt seine Billets to the beloved of my heart, und wir sehen uns täglich [...] An der Seite Kinlochs bei Bonnet, und nun ich eine Stunde mich mit Ihnen unterhalten, bin ich glücklich und heiter; so, sagt der Koran, erleuchtet ein Blitzstrahl plötzlich die dickste der Nächte, aber die Finsfterniß wird dicker nach ihm.

18 Aug 1775

Les questions de Kinloch ont fixé plus particulièrement mon attention sur plusieurs points de nos constitutions, et m'ont fait sentir surtout combien nous manquons d'habiles calculateurs politiques. […] Adieu, mon ami: Kinloch vous écrira bientôt.

…auch haben Kinlochs Fragen mich auf eine Menge Punkte unserer Verfassungen, besonders auf unsre Armuth an politischen Arithmetikern aufmerksamer gemacht [...] Gehab dich wohl. Kinloch

21 Aug 1775

Si mon mauvais sort me sépare de Kinloch, je souhaiterais avoir par an 25 à 30 louis de plus pour me mettre à portée de réaliser ce plan d'étude en passant l'été dans quelques Cantons.

Wenn das harte Schicksal Kinloch von mir trennt, so wünsche ich mir jährlich 25—30 Louis d'ors, mit denselben würde ich in einigen Kantonen in den Sommermonaten diesen Plan ausführen können

23 Aug 1775

Je n'ai pas le temps non plus dé vous mener avec moi le long du lac de Zurich, dans les cabinets de Füsslin, de Heidegger, de Gessner, de Hirzel, de Bodmer, etc, ni de vous assurer tout au long de l'amitié de Gessner; ni de vous dire combien j'augmente mes connaissances sur l'Helvétie, et avec quel plaisir je lis Tite-Live avec Kinloch; ni de vous peindre l'enthousiasme de Kinloch pour vous, et sa colère contre moi parce que j'ai été si longtemps sans vous écrire; ni enfin de vous déclarer dans les termes les plus foudroyants une haîne irréconciliable, parce qu'au mépris de votre parole d'honneur, de mes prières et de notre amitié, vous ne m'avez point encore écrit. Ecrivez-moi donc aujourd'hui même!

Aber die Zeit erlaubt mir nicht, meine Observationen durch die Mark, den Zürichersee hinunter, durch Füßlins, Heideggers, Geßners, Hirzels, Bodmers &c. &c. Zimmer fortzusetzen, noch Ihnen Geßners Freundschaft für Sie genug zu vermelden, oder meine Zunahme an helvetischen Kenntnissen oder mein Vergnügen über meine Lectur des Livius mit Kinloch, und Kinlochs Enthusiasmus für Sie und Zorn über mich, der ich Ihnen so lang nicht geschrieben, noch meinen unversöhnlichen Haß gegen Euch, B. Euch in recht donnernden und niederschlagenden Ausdrücken anzukündigen, da` Sie wider Wort und Ehre ungeachtet meiner wiederholten Bitten gegen die allerheiligste Freundschaft das gräuliche Verbrechen begangen haben, bis auf diesen Tag mir keinen Brief zu schreiben. So schreiben Sie mir dann heut noch!

“Thursday” [1775]

Nous attendons à présent une lettre de Mr. Boone qui nous apprendra si nous pouvons, Kinloch et moi, voyager ensemble en France, ou si je dois rester où je suis. Dans ce dernier cas j'attendrai paisiblement quelque occasion de voyager avec un Anglois, qui me feroit voir l'Europe et qui me fixeroit quelque rente. Si Mr. Boone et d'autres amis n'en trouvent point, j'irai en Angleterre avec K. sur la fin de l'année prochaine et je ne le quitterai pas même, quand it va en Amérique.

*written in French

Wednesday, Dec 1775

Dans ce moment même Kinloch écrit à Mr. Boone une lettre, qui influera peut-être sur ma destination future. Si je ne peux pas vivre comme je le souhaiterois, d'après ce que je Vous ai dit, je souhaiterois, que dans le cas, qu'il me fallut passer ma vie dans la solitude, je puisse partager la votre; mais le moyen de vivre!

26 Dec 1775

Gegenwärtig befinde ich mich in sehr großen Zweifeln. Länger als bis im Märzen kann Kinloch nicht hier bleiben; wir erwarten aus England Briefe, ob wir Geldes genug haben, mit einander zu reisen. Die amerikanischen Sachen machen es sehr ungewiß. Und wenn auch diese Reisen zu Ende find, so werden diese Unruhen uns an der Ausführung vieler Projekte hindern. Nun kommt noch die neulich beschlossene Expedition gegen Karolina. In diesem Land, wir haben Briefe, ist alles in solcher Unordnung, daß der Rath vollkommen seine Gewalt verloren, alle Gerichte beschlossen sind, kein Gesetz mehr vollstreckt wird, alle Stände sich vermengt haben, und die Geistlichen nichts als Aufruhr predigen. Auch ist die rebellische Faction so muthig, daß sie beschlossen haben, alle Weiber und Kinder ins innere Land zu versenden, die ganze Stadt Karlstown in Asche zu verwandeln, und über den Ruinen derselben sich mit den Engländern zu schlagen. Stellen Sie sich Kinlochs Herz vor, und seine edle Mutter in diesem fürchterlichen Land, in der Flucht, ausgesetzt allem Muthwillen der Soldaten, allen Anfällen der Verwüstung, dem Hunger und dem Mangel. Es ist sehr möglich, daß Kinloch selbst alles verliert, daß seine Pflanzungen verwüstet werden. Stellen Sie sich vor, was wir bei alledem denken und fühlen müssen.

9 Jan 1776

Aus England haben wir Briefe, welche bestätigen, wasmaßen das ganze Ufer der nordamerikanischen See den Flammen und der Verwüstung gewidmet sey; auch sagen Sie, die Flotte gegen Karolina sey bereits abgesegelt. Kinloch und ich haben über unsre Bestimmung ein Project entworfen, welches allem Ansehen nach zu unserm gemeinschaftlichen Nutzen ausgeführt werden wird. Anfangs Aprillens geht mein Freund nach Frankreich in eine Provinzialstadt; ich nach Genthod zu den Weisen (dieses halten wir, d. i. die von Genthod und ich gewisser Leute wegen noch zur Zeit geheim). Gegen den Herbst gehe ich nach Marseille oder Lyon, finde daselbst Kinloch, gehe mit ihm nach Rom und von da durchs Tirol und Bayern hinunter in die Niederlande bis ans Meer. So werde ich diesen Sommer meine meisten Materialiensammlungen vollenden können und einen lehrreichen und `vergnügten Winter haben. Und was ferner? werden Sie mich fragen. In Jahresfrist wird es sich zeigen, ob Amerika noch wohnbar, ob Lord North noch Staatsminister sey, ob Kinloch sich in England oder in Amerika niederlassen werde. Accordingly werden wir uns entschließen.

19 Feb 1776

Vos lettres me font toujours grand plaisir mais aucune d'elles et en général, aucun événement ne m'a causé, depuis longtemps, un plaisir aussi vif que votre avant-dernière. Vous avez l'éloquence de Demosthène quand l'amitié vous inspire, et votre cœur est ce qu'il y a au monde de plus noble et de meilleur. Bonnet et Kinloch vous aiment avec enthousiasme, et moi, je suis plus déterminé que jamais à suivré en tout vos conseils. […] Mais, et Bonnet, et Mad. Bonnet, et Kinloch, et mes meilleurs amis, et les lumières que j'ai acquises en philosophie et en politique, à qui dois-je tout cela, mon ami? vous le savez.

Ihre Briefe machen mir immer sehr viel Vergnügen, aber seit langer Zeit hat kein Brief und keine Begebenheit mir so viel Freude verschafft, als Ihr vorletzter. Ihre Beredsamkeit ist Demosthenisch, wenn Sie von der Freundschaft begeistert sind, Ihr Herz aber der größten und edelsten Tugenden voll. Bonnet und Kinloch haben einen wahren Enthusiasmus für Sie gefühlt. Ich aber bin entschlossener, als noch Ihrem Rath zu folgen. [...] Hrn. Bonnet, Md. Bonnet und Kinloch und alle meine besten Freunde, nebst der Philosophie und Politik, wem bin ich alles schuldig? fragen Sie sich!

#francis kinloch #johannes von müller #karl viktor von bonstetten #18th century history #queer history #demosthenes mention!#happy valentine's day

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ajokeformur-ray · 1 year ago

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I'm pretty sure it's gonna make me cry, but I'm doing it anyways...

💌

Kelly my love!!! I hope I don't make you cry. I'd never want to do that. Only make you smile. You are... oh, my god, Kelly, you have stopped me from doing some seriously stupid shit these past months.

I know we've been friends for years, but these last few months have been rough for the both of us but no matter what's going on with you, you're always here for me and I hope I've been able to reciprocate in kind. You've stopped panic attacks before they've started, you've gotten me to giggle in the middle of sobbing at 3am because there's a knot in my hair and no one is awake to help me and oh, those scissors look inviting, you've stopped me from watching things I shouldn't, you've stopped me from quitting university three days before the end of the year, you've kept me alive when my self-destructive streak has been stronger than me... I just love you so fucking much. So much.

Your mind is a deep swimming pool and I wanna jump in at the deep end. Your love of your Ghouls, your passion for the Sinclairs and Asa, your gorgeous recipes and your love of food, music, horror films, coffee and kitties... you have such a big heart and you're one of the most determined people I've ever known. If you say you're gonna do something, you do it, and your dependable nature means that you only ever feel safe. I feel safe with you. I can rip open my ribcage and show you the tar on my heart and you'll wipe the rot away with a smile and some kind words which are exactly what I need to hear. You always meet me, no matter where I am, with kindness and love, even if that love includes a short sharp kick to the ass. We both know I need a bit of brutality before I can get myself to do things... I need a higher dose of fear than most people, given the fact I live in so much fear that it's normal for me at this point. You know this, and you work with it as best as you can and I love so much the way you love me. It's so cosy and warm and safe.

I have seen you fight some real demons these last months but you've come out on top every damn time and you've made it through some really awful situations. You're brave, strong, fiercely brave, determined... I wouldn't put money on you if you said you're gonna do something. You're gentle, tender, loving and kind, passionate and compassionate, I love listening to you when you tell me about your dreams, whether they're your waking or sleeping ones, listening to you talk about your Ghouls gives me life, and I just... I just fucking love you. I'd quit coffee for you. I'd go a day without watching HOW for you. I'd eat wheat if you asked me to - pure, raw wheat... pure undiluted poison, if we're calling a spade, a spade. You're amazing. So strong and watching you navigate the shit sandwiches life throws at you is heartbreaking, but it's an honour, too. Thank you for letting me see and know you. I love you so much for all the things I discover.

You're gorgeous, inside and out, in all the ways, and I hope we have many more years together.🫂💖

#eri's love letters

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shapeworldnews · 5 years ago

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Shocking Revelations from Former Devote ‘MS’

This email excerpt is from a former devotee, who heard firsthand from a number of people about their experiences of sexual abuse at the hands of sathya sai baba. Details of one experience is below.

From: m——-i <m——–i@z—–o.com>

Date: Mon, 23 Sep 2019 at 20:38

Subject: Sai Baba

To: d——–a <d——[email protected]>

First of all thank you so much that you give me the honour and opportunity to be able to write to you. And before I put my questions let me shortly introduce myself:

I am a social worker and live near Munich Germany.

My spiritual journey started like yours at a young age. At age 18 I joined an Indian Bengali Guru located in NYC (New York City) called Sri Chinmoy. At age 24 I came to Baba after I wasn’t able to go along the path of Sri Chinmoy anymore. Baba was very much healing me after the “stressful” path of Chinmoy. I liked Baba’s saying “Start early- drive slowly – reach safely”. It meant a lot to me after racing to heaven with Chinmoy.

I was very active in the Sai Center in Vienna in the 90’s. I loved it! In 2001 Baba personally arranged my marriage with my wife who was from Iran and who has been living with me for the past 19 years.

We both had incredible experiences with Baba and I felt his path was so grounded – a blending between spiritual aspiration and worldly life. We loved it. Recently again after many years I have become again very active in the Sai center.

About 1 year ago I had to leave the center.

About 4 months back I received a mail from the Sai Center leader. He wanted to know my opinion about one guru. One Sai devotee warned the Sai community about this guru. See more here about him: https://www.bhaktimarga.org/.

I wrote him back that I know personally Swami Vishwananda and I had no bad experiences. He wrote me back that he lived in Vishwananda’s ashram and that Vishwananda wanted him to massage his penis and more things.

I was shocked!!!

Later on my wife said that we should not forget what kind of rumours there are about Sathya Sai Baba. We watched again the movie “Secret Swami – BBC” after around 14 years, you may know about it (we know the family a bit). After watching this I realized that I had repressed some doubts about Baba. I started to investigate, and I asked a close friend of mine what he had experienced with Baba in the many interviews he had in the 90s (17 interviews) as a young guy.

He told me confidently that he had to preform several blow jobs on Baba’s “lingam”. I am very sure he did not lie to me; everything was very confident. He told me that Baba’s penis was half erected but did not lose sperm. He was not even completely negative about Baba. The only thing he really criticized was that Baba did it with people that didn’t like it.

I was so shocked and confused but also realized that many things I heard about firsthand many times, were most probably true! Before I believed that Baba was “healing” devotee by massaging and oiling their penises. And all the other allegations I thought were just fake rumours from bad people in the internet.

Baba’s “negative side”

As you most probably know: it is true that that Baba had sexual relations with innocent people against their will or in a manipulated state of mind.

Why baba had so much money, gold and silver in his room????

Did he give the order for murdering (the four boys) in 1993?

We know that many times he didn’t really materialize!!! (ok maybe to test people’s faith???)

#latest news #news #world #breaking news #forest #viralpost #viral trends

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

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My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit?

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

#catfa 10th anniversary challenge #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #barton reader #barton reader fic #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers fafiction #steve rogers fanfic #my timid hello my clumsy goodbye #anika ann

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comfortwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Best Friends Brother Part 3 - G.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

This is part 3 of ‘Best Friends Brother’ please read part 1 and part 2, want to be tagged? let me know!

George Weasley x Fem Reader slow burn

Warnings: mention of food and eating, swearing,

The moment your lips touched, fireworks went off around you, George wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him - all of your worries withering away, all you could feel was happiness and pure bliss.

George pulled away from the kiss and slowly opened his eyes, you were in shocked and couldn’t believe who’s lips had collided with yours moments before.

Opening your eyes slowly, you stared into George’s brown ones, his gentle hands holding yours and squeezing them softly.

“T-Thank you for tonight” you blushed, letting go of one of his hands, tucking a stray hair behind your ear nervously “It’s been wonderful.”

George smiled softly and nodded “it has” he paused for a moment, his thumb tracing circles into your palm “same time next week?” he asked, sounding quite nervous.

You squeezed his hand back in excitement and nodded “I would love to” you beamed.

Your three month anniversary was hanging around the corner, you had planned a whole day out on Saturday once George finished Quidditch practice, your heart fluttering in excitement and skipping beats, causing you to squirm in your seat - giggling out and squealing, confusing those around you, especially Ron who thought you were going barmy.

Despite seeing each other every day, the two of you were keeping things secret, you weren't ready for anyone to know - George knew his little brother all too well and so did you, Ron would be far from happy.

“George didn’t say anything to you after he, you know?” Ron asked, acting quite shifty in his chair.

“No he didn’t” you replied, “he’s not interested in me Ron, he just hates creeps.”

“Where were you last night?” Ron asked over breakfast, staring at you questioningly.

Shit! Think of something! I totally wasn’t kissing your brother, no, not at all.

“I went for a walk” you lied “I just had so much energy and needed to get out, I found an injured little owlet and was up all night nursing it, he’s helping me get over Penny.”

Ron believed you and nodded slowly “are you sure you’re ready for another owl?” he asked, trying to sound as caring as he could.

You sighed “I think it’s about time, yeah” you replied “It’s been almost over a year so I figured why not.”

So instead, you wrote to each other a few times a week, you had to admit, you quite liked the schedule; Wednesdays and Sundays nights were for the love letters, Saturdays were for dates unless he couldn’t skip Quidditch and the rest of the week you barely spoke and only engaged in eye contact if you were in the company of others - if not, you would hold hands and kiss in empty broom closets or even in the astronomy tower, but it was rare as Fred was never far behind from his twin.

Dearest Y/N,

Although we see each other every day and go on dates most weekends (when Ron isn’t on your back, or when I’m in detention like now) writing to you feels just as good as the real thing - but still bloody ridiculous.

Fred keeps asking what I’ve spent my Galleons on, told him it was for an experiment to do with our products we’re testing - he’s suspicious but believes me after I made myself sick to get out of Quidditch, oh the things I do for you, Y/N.

I think Gideon is the perfect name for the Owlet, mum will be so heart warmed and honoured when she finds out - but don’t bring the galleons into it of course, not until the joke shop is up and running with great success!

Seeing you last night up in the Astronomy tower was nothing short of the highlight of my day, I wish we could do it more often, but not to worry - one day we won’t need to meet up in private at all.

Anyway, I better get back to some homework before the greaseball comes over and reads this - detention with him always drags.

The next one will be longer, I promise, love.

Lots of love,

Georgie.

Dear George,

You should be focusing, get your head down and do your homework if you can bear it, I swear George, the day I receive a letter from you that wasn’t written in detention will be the day I wink at Snape - it’s silly I’m even asking you knowing that it’s never going to happen.

Your letters always cheer me up, Georgie, I can hear your voice as I read, feels like you’re sitting next to me and it’s good enough for me at the time being, I’m so thankful that we aren’t hundreds of miles away from each other.

Hey! You can’t be skipping Quidditch for me, you plonker! Gryffindor team need you and you’re a bloody good Beater - unbeatable in fact but stop skipping! we can make up for a lost date another time, I’ll try not to miss you too much I swear.

Thank you for gifting me Gideon, he is the sweetest little owlet and I cannot wait to watch him grow and to teach him like I did Penny - if his mother will let me that is. I won’t say a word to anyone, no one will know that you did such a thing although I want nothing more than to tell everyone, your kind-heartedness should never go unnoticed.

The joke shop will sweep you up off your feet and I can’t wait to see Weasley wizard Wheezes everywhere I go.

Thank you so much for last night, please don’t forget to send me your Christmas list - please don’t get me anything - Gideon is enough.

Focus on your bloody homework!

Speak soon and lots of love,

Y/N.

Looking over and your Owl, now named Gideon who had grown so much he was no longer a tiny owlet, you stroked his head and giggled at him as he nibbled on your finger.

“Alright, alright, but don’t be out too long” you whispered, opening your bedroom window, Gideon flapping his wings, leaping out and soaring into the night sky.

You beamed at your treasure, flying away to get some food for the evening, climbing into your bed as quietly as you could, hoping you wouldn’t wake up Hermione or your other roommates. Sliding your hand under your pillow, you patted around for the love letters from George you were hiding from everyone.

Your fingers grazed the corners of the crinkled parchment, lifting up your pillow you retrieved his most recent letter, taking it with you as you dive under your covers, shielding you from your roommates and giving you some privacy.

“Lumos!” You whispered, a beam of light stretching out from the tip of your wand, your cheeks flushing again upon seeing George’s handwriting.

Dearest Y/N,

Thank you for the heads-up, saved me and Freddie a lot of trouble, I swear one day Mr Filch and that bloody cat won’t know what’s hit them - if it wasn’t for you, we would’ve lost all of our plans and The Marauders Map, so thank you again for saving us all that trouble.

These three months have flown by so fast, I can’t believe it, I know this seems rather daft - a tall prankster being all lovey-dovey like this, but you really make me happy and I can’t wait to spend more time with you.

If you ever want to test any puking pastilles or fainting fancies, let me know and I’ll be able to look after you, love.

Looking forward to seeing you on Saturday so we can actually speak face to face - if Ron asks, you already know what to say.

Wrap up warm, it’ll be quite cold in Hogsmeade.

Looking forward to seeing you,

lots of love,

Georgie.

“Where are you off to so early? We never see you anymore over the weekend!” Ron complained, a mouthful of bacon.

“Oh get some manners, Ronald!” Hermione hissed, knitting her eyebrows together and grimacing.

You stood on the spot and stared at Ron, trying to plaster the most obvious expression on your face to make him feel stupid. “I’m off to spend some quality time with Gideon, he’s only a few months old and I want to make sure he’s as stable as Penny was at her age - I won’t be able to trust him to send letters long distances otherwise.” you lied.

But in all honesty, you weren’t really lying completely, next weekend was the end of term and the start of the Christmas Holidays - you wanted to make sure Gideon could deliver George’s letters to the burrow, you wouldn’t be able to hide them around for him to stumble across and pick up any more, and the two of you already discussed the problems of trying to use a device which muggles called a telephone.

“I’ll write you letters every week” George whispered, standing next to you in the corridors swarming with busy students, Fred chasing after Angelina outside “look in the middle of your textbooks, I’ll slide them in the middle of the pages.”

Opening up your book, a piece of folded parchment slid down and fell into your lap, you quickly stuffed it into your pocket, looking around to see if Ron noticed - luckily for you who he was copying Hermione’s classwork.

Ron looked lost for words, swallowing his bacon and thinking about your owl and how much you truly loved them “Alright then, well, see you later.” he replied,

You raised your eyebrows and smiled, waving goodbye to him, Harry and Hermione, walking out of the Great Hall and getting ready to meet George in Hogsmeade.

“She spends too much time with that bloody owl if you ask me” Ron muttered, stabbing some peas with his fork.

Hermione sighed “I think it’s quite sweet actually, she’s quite similar to Hagrid.”

Harry grinned and started to laugh, Ron rolled his eyes.

“Except the fact that she’s not a giant and she only flocks to birds of prey, not dragons or creatures that could kill us!”

“Well, at least you know where she’s going” Fred called out, walking past his brother “George never tells me where he’s off to and what he’s up to on a Saturday, he’s skiving Quidditch practice again and I get in bothered for it - I can’t check either because he’s got that sodding map with him!”

George wasn’t wrong, this time of year, Hogsmeade was freezing - your fingers changed colour and you could feel the ache and tingle against the freezing air that nibbled on your exposed skin.

You embraced yourself in one of the jumpers he had given you, one you were wearing under your fluffy winter coat which matched the colour of the snow. Looking around the small Village, you noticed George waiting outside The Three Broomsticks, looking slightly nervous as he scratched the back of his head.

You walked up to him, as you got closer you couldn’t help but blush at his red nose that had been attacked from the harsh winter air “Hello, George” you smiled softly, pulling him into a hug after clearing the coast of possible students.

George held you in his arms for a moment, taking in your scent and the feeling of your face against his chest, your hair under his chin as it rested on your head. “shall we get a drink, love?” he asked softly.

Following him inside and getting sat down in a quieter area of the pub, George ordered you and him a butterbeer and held your hand over the table, casually checking the map every now and then, checking on his brothers.

“It’s so good to see your face” he smiled, his starry eyes getting lost in yours.

You blushed and smiled widely, your drinks being placed down on your table, “It’s so good to see you too, can’t believe it’s been three months already!”

George took a sip of his butterbeer, the butterscotch warming up his tummy, you mirrored him, leaving behind a white foamy moustache. George smirked and leaned over the table, carefully avoiding spilling his drink as he wiped away the foam sitting on your top lip with his thumb, his index finger lifting up your chin.

The two of you exchanged a quick, risky kiss, remembering you needed to tone things down despite how hard the temptation was to snog him. George leaned back in his chair, sucking the foam off his thumb.

“I’ve been training Gideon” you beamed, the butterbeer warming you up “he’s finally got the hang of flying long distances and coming back in one piece.”

Meeting George in the small and squashed broom closet, he examined your tired features, looking slightly concerned, his hand resting against your face.

“Are you alright love?” he asked, “you look exhausted.”

You nodded and replied “I’m fine” suppressing a yawn “been up all night with Gideon, he’s growing so fast and he won’t allow me to baby him forever - he’ll be big enough to deliver letters soon.”

George felt a part of him fall in love with you all over again, the picture of you and Gideon in his mind made his insides got all warm and fuzzy - more so than his drink.

“So now he’ll be delivering you letters over Christmas!”

George went quiet and scratched behind his head like he did when he stood outside the pub, he paused for a moment and pursed his lips, licking them. “About that..” he trailed off, staring at his now half-full glass of butterbeer.

Your insides started to sink suddenly but your hopes were lifting, trying to figure out what he was going to say.

Is he staying at Hogwarts for Christmas with me whilst everyone else goes home? Am I unable to send him letters over Christmas if he goes back home?

“What is it?” you asked, both curiously and nervously.

George broke out into a smile, quickly glancing at the map again, then looking back into his favourite pair of eyes.

“Well, I was wondering...” he paused again “if you would like to stay at the burrow over Christmas, with me, everyone else of course but-”

“Yes!” you squealed, getting excited “oh George I would love to!”

George broke out into a grin, so relieved you were willing to come and spend some more time with him, a chance for the two of you to try and get some private time together, in the comfort of his own home.

“I had to ask mum ‘on behalf of Ron’ so if she says anything, just go through with it” George said quietly “Ron wouldn’t remember asking me to do such a thing anyway - his head is that clouded with Hermione.”

You swallowed down the rest of your drink, remembering to wipe away your foamy moustache this time “This is going to be wonderful, George” you smiled, squeezing his hand over to the table “Two whole weeks that we can just.. just be ourselves together!”

George smiled but remembered to remind you “We still need to keep everything on the down-low, it will be a full house and if we disappear it will be obvious we’re together - we’ll just need to wait for everyone to go to bed or go for a walk when they’re too busy to notice.”

You nodded your head, remembering that you would now be under not just Ron’s watch, but every Weasley who wouldn’t approve of your budding relationship.

George kissed your hand and looked down at the map once more, his smile dropping.

“Shit!” he panicked, getting up out of his seat.

“What is it?” you panicked, following him to the back doors in the pub.

He stared down at the map, his eyes following the group of feet storming into Hogsmeade “Fred, Ron, Harry - everyone’s heading this way - to this bloody pub!”

You swallowed hard, the butterbeer churning in your stomach, George’s drink rising up into his throat.

“When we can get away I’ll head to the owlery!” you put your coat back on, pulling the zip up quickly “you go hurry to Honey Dukes or Zonko’s when you get the chance, you’ll find your letter folded in your Quidditch jersey!”

George nodded, looking up from the map and quickly kissing you on the lips, the look in his eyes expressing the most sympathy you had ever seen.

Keeping things a secret would only get harder, harder than you and George were expecting.

Tag list: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @sebby-staan @xmalfoyweasleyx

#george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fanfiction #George Weasley one shot #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #ron weasley #ron weasly x reader #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley oneshot #ron weasley fanfic #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic

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fakecrfan · 4 years ago

Text

POV: You wake up in the TMA universe at the start of season 1.

You find yourself on the streets of London, cold and confused.

You try to figure out what happened and get home. You discover the place you lived no longer exists. The place you worked no longer exists.

You try to call the numbers of family, friends, anyone you knew. Baffled voices that you don’t recognize answer you, and then hang up.

As you're wandering around the streets getting increasingly terrified, you pass by the Magnus Institute. Then, everything makes sense.

You hurry in and blurt out: "I would like to make a statement"

Rosie smiles politely.

“Alright, let’s get you the proper forms then.”

She tells you that the Archivist, Jonathan Sims, will see you in a moment. As you are waiting for him, you recall what happens to people who give statements to Jonathan Sims. Unceasing bad dreams. Unrelenting panic attacks. Enough that Jess Tyrell stopped being able to go out in public.

"Ah," you think. "I will not do that then."

You leave in a hurry. Outside, you realize:

oh, I'm the only one who can stop the apocalypse now, aren't i

You shiver. That thought can wait, you think. For now you need to find... somewhere to stay. You are effectively homeless. No, not effectively. You are straight up homeless.

You pull out your wallet to pay for food. Your card is declined. You try to use cash, only to be told it’s counterfeit. Everything is just a little too much to the left of your reality for you to navigate.

Finally you find social services of some kind. They ask for your information, including your NIN. you aren't surprised when they say the info they have on file for that number is.... not you. You are disappointed though.

They help you to a homeless shelter. You sit on your cot and cry self-pityingly for a bit, and then that pressure comes back to your mind:

The world is going to end. You know the world is going to end. You're the only one who can do anything about it.

You turn over and decide that's something you can deal with in the morning.

----

The next day, you think about it again.

"That's something I can deal with when I have an apartment," is what you think then.

So that becomes your next project. Finding your footing as a displaced person. Social services helps but it's... sporadic. It takes months for you to get more stable housing.

When you lie down on the couch of the new, well, new associate you've made, you once again remember that the world is going to end. That you are the only one who can do anything about it.

"I'll think about that when I get a job"

-----

Time continues to pass. As you are trying to get on your feet, you make feeble attempts to... start something.

You go to the Magnus Institute a few times. But it's hard. You've always had terrible social anxiety,. And everyone there seems so cold. You can feel eyes on your back: staring, watching your every move. Normally that alone is enough to make you quit for the day.

A lot of times, the main cast you remember is out doing research. When they are there, you are about to walk up and speak to them when the anxiety hits you again.

What if Elias sees you talking to them? What if he kills you?

You decide to retreat for a little while, then. Just to think of a better plan.

You spend the next month getting your first job in this new world. You start a timeline of when you think the apocalypse is going to happen, but remembering the canon dates is hard. It's not a very helpful timeline, and so you give it up.

Eventually you think the best thing to do is to wait until Elias has been arrested and then talk to the others. When Elias is in prison, he can't murder you for revealing your plans.

This means Sasha and Tim will die. But--they might have died anyway, even with your intervention. Who’s to say? Anyway, you’re not the one who will kill them. It’s not your fault.

You scan the news every day for things about the Magnus Institute, particularly the head of it getting arrested.

During this time, you do a little better. You have a nice apartment now, you think. Nice by your own standards, at least. You decorate the place a little. Get some video games that you like--or well, they aren't the same ones as in your world, but close enough you think?

Months pass.

One day it hits you that maybe the papers would never actually report on Elias being arrested.

Oh shit, you think.

You go back to the Magnus Institute then. By this point, Rosie recognizes you. She grants you the same expression one grants a wayward alley cat. You ask who the current head is. You are told "Peter Lukas."

Shit.

"Can I make a statement?"

Rosie looks nervous. "Um, the Archivist is on medical leave."

"Okay can I talk to one of his assistants?"

Rosie gets this very tired look in her eyes.

"I'll... ask."

Rosie phones the archives extension

it rings

"They've all really been through it recently," Rosie tells you. "They don't--like to talk to anyone else, now."

"I have to talk to them," you say. "Um, can you--can you tell Martin Blackwood specifically that I need to talk to him? That it's about Jon?"

Martin is--you like Martin. Martin will be nice and safe. He'll be easier to talk to than Melanie at this point, or Basira. Still, Rosie looks tired again.

"I'll have a chat with him," Rosie says. "How about you go home for now, and I'll call you when I've talked to him."

"But--"

You're bad at this. You were always bad at this. You can barely sign up for anything on your own. Your mother has done so many calls and filled out so many forms for you.

You never cultivated the skill of standing in a lobby and insisting to talk to someone. Maybe you'll just irritate Rosie and she'll blacklist you if you dig in your heels now. Anyway, you're already so tired from this. You think about going home, and playing some Medal of Honour IV.

"Fine," you say.

You go home. You play the game. You sleep.

You're not giving up, you say to yourself. You're just--biding your time.

Rosie does not call you.

It pains you, but you realize you have to go back in and ask to speak to someone again. You'll go today after work, you decide.

No, wait, you're too tired from work today. You'll go tomorrow.

Maybe on the weekend.

----

You finally go back

Rosie tells you she just--hasn't been able to get a hold of Martin.

"Fine," you say. "Any of the other assistants."

Rosie actually looks a bit worried for you. "Um, they're not--they don't take well to unexpected visitors. Let me wait and chat them up about it."

You do not listen this time.

You march down into the basement level where the archives are. The door is--well. Shit. It's barricaded? You knock. You keep knocking.

"Melanie! Basira!" you say. "I have to talk!"

The door opens too quickly. You barely get a glimpse of Melanie's snarl before she strikes and your vision goes white.

She hits you a few times. No knives, just fists. You hear Basira in the backround, barking for Melanie to stand down. Once there is an opening and you can blearily see again, you run away in terror.

It's not--you didn't intend to run. You were just afraid.

----

You go home, and realize that Melanie didn't even really hit you in a super serious way. Nothing that would warrant a hospital trip, at least. Nothing that has left you with a lot of pain, outside of the immediate terror of physical violence.

You probably could have stuck it out there. You should have.

You think about all the months--no, years now--that have passed without you making any progress.

"But that’s not my fault,” you say.

"I was having a really hard time. I was homeless. I've been struggling with my mental health. I still have to keep the rent paid and feed myself."

"It's not my fault. It's not."

"I will do something. Just--I need some more time."

You sleep.

You decide to wait a bit for your bruises to heal up before going back.

When you do drag yourself back to the Institute, now there is a PTSD reaction to going into the Institute on top of the social anxiety.

You leave quickly. Rosie looks so sad for you.

You do try to go back. You do try to get back in contact with the Archives, or go back when Jon is back up. But there's always something. Not something directly stopping you. Just--

Tiredness. Work. Illness. Doctor's appointments. Panic attacks. The Archives staff being unreachable.

The world is going to end. You're the only one who can stop it.

"That's not true though," you think. "I mean, technically anyone could. I just have a little more information that could help."

"It's never one person's fault," you tell yourself as you crawl into bed after another flight of anxiety struck you as you were about to cross the street to the Institute. "It's everything. It's--a whole system. It's Jonah's fault really. If I don't--I'm not to blame."

“I’m not to blame.”

----

You are playing Medal of Honour V when your phone lights up with a notification that there was an outburst of violence at a place known as the Magnus Institute, and billionaire Peter Lukas has disappeared in the confusion.

You should get up. It’s going to happen, and happen soon. You hand twitches on the controller.

You remember a quote you saw before you ended up here, on Facebook of all things.

"Don't wonder what you'd be doing in Nazi Germany. Whatever you're doing now, is what you would have been doing then."

Because bad things were happening in the world all the time, your preachy Facebook aunt said. There is always genocide, and famine, and war. It’s not some movie fantasy from the past.

You think about that. About the horrors in your world. Those movements that you retweeted support for and occasionally donated $5 to. The protests you awkwardly passed by on your way to work.

You quietly realize what kind of person you are. What you would have been doing in Nazi Germany, or the civil rights era in the U.S., or during the catastrophes in your own world, or right now.

It's what you were always going to do.

And so you get back to Medal of Honour V.

----

You're still dreading the apocalypse of course. It won’t be easy. It will be around six months to a year of full on torture, specifically designed to be the worst you have ever felt. Something about that soothes you. Something about knowing you are a victim too, or maybe knowing that you’ll be punished.

But--it will end, and then you'll be alright. Everything will return to normal, and you can go back to your apartment and your job and your games. It’s not all that bad.

You feel a twinge of guilt for Martin and Jon, who you could ave intervened for. You feel more than a twinge for the worlds the Entities will infect after. But--maybe it will all work out okay. Maybe the universe is a kind place. Maybe other worlds will be able to handle the fears better.

Who knows! There is always hope!

----

[When the sky turns red and the great Eye opens, when you start to hear the howls of your apartment neighbors through the wall--

Nothing happens to you. You are fine. It does not touch you.

Oh.]

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fic #self insert #reader insert #my writing

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5thmarauderwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Blurted Confession — Remus Lupin x Slytherin Reader Request.

Requests are: OPEN.

Requested by Anonymous: “could you do a remus x slytherin reader where the marauders are all in class and see her with a hufflepuff friend and he's like... wait she's so NICE actually? just a lot of fluff in general 👉🏻👈🏻“.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Slytherin!Reader.

Word Count: 1,7K

Warnings: None, it’s fluff all the way.

A/N: This was my first time ever writing for Remus and I loved every second of it because: Remus is baby. [insert here a cute emoji]. Hope you like it, Anon! <3

Remus had the vague notion that Professor McGonagall’s voice was tolling in the background as she explained the fundamentals of the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell to her very attentive students, but he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to a word she was saying. Instead of being focused on the extremely difficult subject being taught by one of the most strict Professors Hogwarts has ever had, his chocolate eyes were glued to a very interesting and unexpected scene: a y/h/c Slytherin girl he had seen – and not so discreetly stared at – quite some times, mostly in the library, chatting happily with a Hufflepuff girl. And they seemed really close?

The girl had intrigued the boy ever since he first saw her; she was reading one of his favourite muggle stories in the Wooden Bridge, which happened to be one of his favourite places in the castle to get lost inside his books. However, he never really got the chance to talk to her. If he was being honest, talking to her was something he was never entirely sure he wanted to do, since she seemed extremely intimidating; mostly, he knew, because of the house she was sorted into.

Remus was never one to judge a book by its cover; he definitely did not hold any sort of prejudice against all Slytherins. Sure, the house had a few individuals of doubtful character, like Severus Snape, Mulciber and that Avery boy, but then again, they could’ve ended up in any other house. So why was he so intimidated by the fact that Y/N was a Slytherin? Remus knew many of the Slytherins held a profound dislike for the Gryffindors, and maybe, just maybe, that’s what had really refrained him from ever talking to her. Deep down, he was afraid of being rejected by one of the few girls that were actually able to catch his eyes over these five years he had been attending Hogwarts.

“Mr Lupin?” Professor McGonagall called, snapping Remus out of his thoughts. Once he focused on her, he felt a lump starting to form inside his throat as he noticed the clearly displeased glare she was sending him.

“Yes, Professor?” He answered weakly, feeling all the eyes of the room on him.

“Am I boring you with my class?” She asked blatantly, winging her brows.

“No- no,” he muttered, desperately wanting to crawl into a hole, as he hated to be on the spotlight.

“Perhaps you’d rather having Miss L/N explaining today’s lesson to you?” The Professor pursed her lips in annoyance, bending her head to her right. “Since you clearly seem more interested in her than in whatever I have to say.”

Remus felt his cheeks burning as a crimson tone painted his face. “I told you he was looking at her!” He heard James whispering, probably to Sirius.

“Sorry,” Remus was able to mutter after a few seconds.

Minerva McGonagall sent him a last death glare before turning to the blackboard and, waving her wand at it, writing down what she had been explaining since the beginning of the class. Remus quickly grabbed his pieces of parchment and the quill he had packed in his bag this morning and started to furiously take notes, avoiding to glance in Y/N’s direction at all costs.

“Smitten with the little snake, are we Moony?” James Potter wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at his brown-haired friend.

“Oi! Don’t talk about her like that!” Sirius Black scolded him.

Remus and James both snapped his heads towards Sirius and said in unison, “excuse me?”

“Since when do you advocate on behalf of a Slytherin? James asked with an utterly shocked frown.

“She’s friends with Regulus,” the raven-haired boy shrugged. “She always looks out for him, besides she’s the reason why we’re on speaking terms again.”

“Did she help you mend your relationship with your brother?” Remus asked, gobsmacked.

“That and she also helped me when I ran away from home after Walburga had burned my face out of the family tree,” he smiled weakly, his mind clearly traveling back to the dreadful day.

“How so?” James seemed even more shocked than before, if this was even possible.

“Y/N and Regulus were hanging out in his room when my charming mother started to scream at me and command me to leave the house and never come back,” Sirius answered with a grimace. “Y/N came to my room to help me pack my stuff and gave me all the money she had with her, in case I had nowhere to go and needed it.”

“Wow, she’s…” James started, looking for the right words.

“Actually nice,” Remus completed his sentence, completely awestruck.

“She is, Moony,” Sirius smiled at his friend, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “You and she have a lot in common, actually.”

Remus stared at the table with a lopsided grin after Sirius’ words. Y/N was an honourable young woman who had an incredible amount of kindness inside of her. Stealing a glance in her direction, his chocolate eyes locked with her y/e/c ones and Remus could feel his stomach churning inside of his belly as she sent him a sweet smile.

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

A week had passed since the Transfiguration class and Remus hadn’t still talked to Y/N, despite Sirius offering again and again to be his wingman and introduce the both of them formally. Even James and Peter tried to boost his confidence by saying she would be crazy not to be interested in him, but the boy still couldn’t help but being afraid of a possible rejection.

Remus kept on studying Y/N and her behaviour for the days to come, noticing how sweet she was to her Hufflepuff friend and how she would stick up for her when some nasty seventh year boys tried to bully the girl. He noticed how she always smiled at herself when reading a book, which he found extremely adorable. He noticed how her eyes would light up when talking about something she was passionate about. He noticed every single little thing about her. What he also noticed is how his heart started to flutter inside his chest at the mere sight of the girl.

“Merlin’s beard! Go talk to her already,” Remus heard the annoyed whisper of Sirius Black in his ear. He had been lost inside his own head for quite a while whilst his eyes involuntarily stared at Y/N from behind a bookshelf.

“What are you doing?” The brown-haired boy hissed with a frown as he turned back to face his friend.

“Helping you with your love life, of course,” Sirius shrugged as if it was obvious.

“I meant here. In the library. You never once stepped a foot in here,” Remus narrowed his eyes.

“Like I said, helping you. You’re looking like a creep hiding in here and staring at her in despair, just go up there and say hi!” Sirius whispered with a poignant urgency, bouncing his arms to reiterate his point.

“I’m not hiding to look at her!” Remus answered exasperatedly. “I was searching for a book!”

“Mate, you weren’t eyeing those books, that’s for sure,” Sirius chuckled as he crossed his arms and leaned against the old bookshelf, his brows defiantly winged.

Remus heaved a sigh as he steadied himself in the bookshelf opposite to Sirius, facing the books disposed ahead of himself and avoiding the gaze of the raven-haired boy, “she seems like a bloody magnet, mate. I… I don’t know, my mind is completely focused on whatever I am doing and next thing I know, my eyes land on her and I just… sort of lose track of time?” He huffed disheartened.

“You really are whipped, aren’t ya?” Sirius shook his head with a smile.

“I guess I am,” Remus nodded, turning his body in Sirius’ direction.

A mischievous smile flickered quickly through Sirius’ lips as he looked behind Remus’ shoulder for a second before turning his attention back to his friend, “tell her that.”

“Tell her what? That I find her extremely kind and sweet? That she is one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen? That I can’t stop thinking about her? That she makes my heart flutter inside my chest? That I’d like to take her out not only in one but in as many dates as she pleased? We don’t even talk to each other. How can I possibly tell her that? Where do I begin from?” Remus blurted out.

“How about by saying hi?” A female voice said from behind him.

Remus widened his eyes in shock as he turned on his heels abruptly and was met by Y/N’s piercing y/e/c eyes. The Slytherin girl had a smile on her face and her lower lip was pressed between her teeth.

“Y/N!” Remus exclaimed, clearly nervous, as his cheeks turned crimson. “Hi!”

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Sirius winked before wiggling his brows and walking away.

“So… Does Remus John Lupin fancy me?” Y/N asked as her own cheeks acquired a pink tone.

“Well, I guess there’s no point in denying when you’ve heard my entire confession…” he started nervously, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Why would you want to deny it?” Y/N asked and Remus could notice her face falling a little, his heart twinging with hope.

“Because I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable in case you don’t feel the same way,” he shrugged, a sweet smile on his lips.

Y/N’s grin widened as she stared into Remus’ chocolate eyes, “well, I could never feel uncomfortable for being fancied by you, not when I’ve been fancying you myself for the past two years.”

“You fancy me?” Remus asked incredulously. “Me? For the past two years?”

“I thought it was obvious, since I can’t seem to stop staring at you,” she shrugged with a giggle.

“Actually, I’ve had my eyes on you for about the same amount of time,” he chuckled, biting his lower lip as he gazed at the ceiling.

“And instead of talking to each other we just stood there hoping the other would notice our crush…” Y/N stated slowly. “Merlin, we’re such idiots!”

“We really are,” Remus agreed, both staring at each other with lopsided grins. “So… would you, maybe… like to go to Hogsmeade with me next month?” He asked after a moment of a comfortable silence.

“There’s nothing I’d like more,” Y/N answered with a wide smile.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black #james potter #the marauders #the marauders imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader

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unpeumacabre · 3 years ago

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soaring dragon dancing phoenix - 龙飞凤舞: prologue

Yunmeng is no longer home for Wei Wuxian, for he is no longer welcome. And so when he visits he can always count on Jiang Cheng descending upon his head with the full strength of heaven's fury, to chase him out. But one day when he sneaks into Yunmeng again, days go by without Jiang Cheng making an appearance. Something has happened to Wei Wuxian's prickly shi-di, something that - once they reunite - they will find is far greater than they could ever have anticipated. Accompanied also by Wei Wuxian's dear friend (?) Lan Zhan and a Lan Xichen who has only just reluctantly left isolation, the four of them set out on a journey that will bring them across the greater part of China to the mystical Kunlun mountains of mythology - and more importantly, may bring them love, healing, and reconciliation.

If only Wei Wuxian could take his head out of his oblivious arse and start putting himself in other people's shoes for once...

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Wangxian, Xicheng, Wei Wuxian & Jiang Cheng

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)

Count: 1.5k

next ->

One year after the events of the Guanyin Temple, and the death of former Chief Cultivator Lianfang-zun.

Lan Zhan!

I agree with what you said about Sect Leader Yao, that old fart. He wouldn’t know a good idea if it bit him on the arse. If I were you I’d have snuck into his room at night and shaved off his eyebrows – but then again, you’re Chief Cultivator, and you have to follow boring things like rules and protocol. Don’t worry, the next time I’m in Pingyang I’ll … It’s a secret! Look forward to the next time you have a discussion conference with that pig-headed old fool.

I’ve finally reached Yunmeng. Little Apple took such a long time to get started from the inn in Jiangling. I think he had a crush on one of the serving girls, to be honest. Even apples didn’t work to drag him away from her. I had to conjure a mirage of her all the way from Jiangling to Yunmeng to get him going – can you imagine that? One of these days I’ll have to find a nice little female ass to keep his little Little Apple happy … Hahaha! I can practically see you rolling your eyes at me now, Lan Zhan. You still can’t take a dirty joke after all.

Anyway, I digress. It’s nice to be back in Yunmeng and be able to pick all the lotus pods I want and to flirt with all the pretty Yunmeng girls, although none of them are as pretty as you are, of course. You’d make a big stir if you came to Yunmeng – you should visit with me one of these days when you’re free! Although I know of course you have responsibilities as Chief Cultivator etc etc but I promise you it’ll be fun! One of these days I’ll come kidnap you. Then Lan Qiren, that old man, would really have an aneurysm, ha! I’d kidnap you just to see his reaction.

Don’t worry about me, I’m talking nonsense as usual. I wouldn’t really kidnap you, unless I was really bored. And Jiang Cheng would probably beat my ass for trying. Honestly, it surprises me that I haven’t had the honour of Jiang Cheng’s company yet. Somehow, he always knows the moment I step into Yunmeng – it’s like he has a spell set up to go off whenever I’m in the vicinity??? And he never fails to turns up for an hour or two just to shout at me, thrash Zidian around a bit and tell me to go back to Gusu. Then he storms off somewhere to drink tea or something. I swear he’s going to die of high blood pressure one of these days.

Well, I expect I’ll see him around. He’s bound to turn up sometime or other. Looking forward to your reply, and counting every one of your twenty words,

Wei Wuxian

***

Lan Zhan!

Thank you for expressing your concern for Little Apple’s wellbeing. He’s eating well (as usual) and living happily in the city stables where I left him. He has a new crush on the stable boy though, but I’m not worried about that – it seems like his affections are as transient as floating smoke and passing clouds. He seems to be like his former master in the sense of being indiscriminate with regards to his choice of partner, which makes me wonder why he’s taken such an intense aversion to me. I guess it’s just the same old story with me and animals all over again.

It’s my third day in Yunmeng, and still no sign of Jiang Cheng anywhere. Perhaps he’s simply busy with some night hunt or other and can’t be bothered to whip my ass into shape. I’ve been visiting his favourite haunts the past few days but no luck – it seems like he’s really busy this time. I’m starting to worry, and although I never thought I’d ever say this, I miss his grumpy ass. It’s been the longest I’ve gone without hearing him call me a fucking idiot, haha!

Anyway I have a funny story to tell! Yesterday I went to investigate rumours of walking corpses at the base of Yunmeng Mountain. Apparently some farmers came across them and ran away but one of them was caught and eaten.

But guess what, Lan Zhan? Actually, it was nothing more than a group of hermits who’d come down from Yunmeng Mountain five days ago after meditating in seclusion for three years, and they were doing their Bagua ritual circle walk around one of the dove trees at the base of the mountain. They hadn’t bathed once in those three years, and so when the farmers came upon them and saw them chanting and moaning and pacing around the tree they were mistaken for walking corpses! Hahahaha how ridiculous is that??? Anyway I cleared up the misunderstanding. The farmer who was apparently eaten fell down a cliff when he was trying to escape from the “corpses” and broke his leg, so the hermits rescued him and patched him up. He was perfectly fine. I talked to them and they seemed like a pretty normal bunch to me – they were quite a big group when they came down the mountain at first apparently but then most of them decided to go down south and back home instead of lingering in Yunmeng. That’s about all the excitement I’ve had so far, I think.

Well, anyway, thank you for the twenty-one words you used in your reply. You have gotten quite adept at teasing me, haven’t you? Looking forward to how else you may surprise me next,

Wei Wuxian

***

Lan Zhan,

No, I don’t think Jiang Cheng fell off a cliff too. As much as you might wish for it to happen, he’s still my brother an important sect leader, you know! Anyway I already checked all the cliffs around the mountain before I received your letter so it couldn’t possibly be so.

Besides, I went to Lotus Pier earlier today – just to check on how things are going, you know, in case they need my help or something, nothing to do with Jiang Cheng. I just stayed outside the gates because I thought Jiang Cheng would probably descend from the heavens on a cloud and break my legs the moment I stepped foot into Lotus Pier, but some of the disciples spotted me and asked me what I was doing there. They said there have been people disappearing just outside Yunmeng, to the southwest and twenty li outside the main city, and when some of the Yunmeng Jiang cultivators went to investigate a few days ago some of them disappeared. So Jiang Cheng decided to take a few more of the Yunmeng Jiang disciples and investigate himself.

Since I have some free time, I’ve decided to help them out. They’ve been gone for four days already – the beast must truly be a handful indeed. It might be fun to go and help, although I think Jiang Cheng might spontaneously explode when he sees my face. Well, maybe the explosion will end up killing the monster, who knows.

It’s quite odd, though; some of the disciples who escaped even said they saw the spectre of Jin Guangyao, that wily old fox, hanging around the cave where they were attacked. Although of course that is impossible, for he is probably still trapped in Nie Mingjue’s coffin, fighting a battle till the end of time. Well, I guess I’ll see for myself if what they saw was true or not.

I had not known that you were capable of silk embroidery. Your skill is indeed fine – as expected of the esteemed Second Master Lan! I shall treasure your gift until the end of time. The cherry blossoms flowered today, and they made me think of you. I wonder if you still remember visiting Tanzhou with me when we were looking for the remaining pieces of the Yin metal? Was it your first time attending such a festival? You looked so surprised by the petals raining down on you then! I miss those times.

I will write to you again tomorrow when I have rescued Jiang Cheng from the human-eating monster. I will make sure to give you a good account of his face when he sees me there to interfere with his night hunt, ha!

***

Dear Lan Wangji Hanguang-jun Mr Chief Cultivator Sir,

I am writing this letter to you because I know you to be a good friend of Wei Wuxian. Just today, I visited Lotus Pier and found that my uncle has been missing for a week, and Wei Wuxian with him for two of those days. They have apparently gone in pursuit of a human-eating monster twenty li southwest of the main city limits of Yunmeng. It must have been a fierce creature indeed to have ensnared both my uncle and Wei Wuxian

Unfortunately, as I am currently extremely and regrettably tied up in Lanling Jin sect matters, this humble person would like to humbly request for your help in locating and possibly rescuing them. Thank you.

Best regards, yours sincerely and most humbly,

Sect Leader Jin Ling, Lanling Jin sect

#wangxian #xicheng #upm works #upm #cql #wwx #lwj #jiang cheng #lxc #jc #mdzs #mdzs fanfiction #cql fanfiction #wei wuxian x lan wangji #jiang cheng x lan xichen #wei wuxian #the untamed #lan wangji #lan xichen

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barkkletshunt · 4 years ago

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Those Worth Fighting For Part seven

Part one Part two

Part three Part four

Part five Part six

Part Seven (You’re here) Part eight

Taglist:

@ladybug-182 @fruit-snacc-ace @miraculous-simmer7 @lavenderjunes

@use-flamethrower @fan-written @all-mights-asscheeks @birdie-posts

Sorry if the tags aren’t working, I tried and I’m not sure where I went wrong with it?

If I have time the next part will come out with some art! Don’t expect the art to be any good though lol

“So then, I go to the window and there is Adrien on Kagami’s front lawn with a big sign that says prom on it, and by the way neither of us knew he was going to be in France at all. It was a total surprise. So I’m so shocked my mind completely blanks out and I shout down to him that yes, I’ll go to prom with him. He yells back ‘tall Kagami’ and I turn around and just ‘your boyfriend just asked to go to prom with me.’ Without skipping a beat she leans out of the window and tells him he’s too late, she already asked me.” Marinette laughed, wiping a stray tear from her eye that began to form from how hard she was trying to not burst into a fit of giggles until the story ended. “In the end the three of us went to prom together.”

The four around the table shook their heads. “Mari, dude, if you can’t get through that story without laughing how are you supposed to do your toast?”

“I’ll just practice it a lot until it’s no longer funny to me, simple. I’m not even going to worry about it anymore.” The blue haired girl shrugged. When she was younger she would have worried about that, but she was long since past that. At least, she hoped she was. She had done enough interviews with Alya in her teen years, and then enough speeches as Ladybug to fill her with a confidence she lacked as a teen. She was nervous, but instead of the all consuming nervousness that would make her fumble and trip over her words it was now an excited nervousness. She was excited about it.

“I think you’ll do fine,” Felix winked at her, his face never changing from the impartial look he had on since he came into the restaurant.

They all had made their way back to the same place after the amok, even if Felix was late once again. The blond had made his excuses of needing to take care of some errands that he had forgotten, but it hadn’t mattered much to any of them. Marinette had saved a seat next to her for him and he was more than happy to take it.

“Why not talk about the moment you realized those two were perfect for each other?” Nathaniel asked, playing with the straw in his drink. “I know you have a million stories about that.”

“Something like Adrien saving Kagami from a bully, or a dance of just the two of them where they lock eyes and suddenly the whole room disappears?” Marc hummed, their author brain going into overdrive at the thought of romance. “Maybe you saw him protect her against an akuma or amok?”

Marinette thought for a moment. What was it that made her realize that they belonged together? After all those years fawning over Adrien, it was Kagami’s love for him that made her step down, but what was the exact moment?

“It was at Chloe’s fifteenth birthday party.” Marinette started, recalling the time before Hawkmoth had lost and her world began to fall apart and fix itself simultaneously. “Adrien’s dad thought it would be a good idea for Kagami to go with him and keep an eye on his son, and they started the evening miserable because the paparazzi outside the hotel told them that they always looked so perfect that it made sense that they would be perfect together. I only got to spend a few minutes with them before being pulled away by Chloe, but when I went to find them and bring them some hot chocolate they were on the roof ruffling each other's hair and talking about anime, and goofing around like I hadn’t seen either of them do before.”

“They saw that the other understood their background and chose to help break out of that image with each other and just be kids.” Felix’s words surprised her, but he understood exactly what had happened.

“They were so embarrassed when they saw me that I challenged them both to hot chocolate drinking contests to ease the awkwardness. They didn’t even realize I didn’t have one for myself before chugging theirs and burning their mouths at the same time.” Her two messy friends meant the world to her, and she knew no one would understand them like they understood each other. Both of them had strict parents that would only let them escape and be kids when they were with the other, and they took those opportunities and made every moment count. They were what each other needed, and then when they got their freedoms they were still the ones they chose. “I think that’s also when they stopped acting perfect in front of me. Adrien really started to bug me to watch anime so he could talk about it with someone other than his girlfriend, and Kagami soon demanded to be my dress up doll because she never got to do that growing up. They became my best friends and honestly, I think I’m better for it too.”

“How romantic.” Marc swooned, leaning against Nathaniel who caught his significant other with a laugh. “Childhood friends, to rivals, to lovers. 50K slowburn.”

“Once there was an akuma trying to hurt Adrien and Kagami picked up the nearest weapon she could find and just went at ‘em and I have never seen Adrien’s face light up like that. The boy just wants to be loved and protected.” Nino joined in. “Alya and I were shocked, we both had our money on Adrien ending up with someone else, but we’re both happy about it. Speaking of which, I gotta update her on what’s going on here. She’ll flip.”

Felix shifted in his seat, catching Marinette’s eye as Nathaniel and Marc continued talking about Kagami and Adrien’s relationship. He wasn’t there for all those moments, he wasn’t a long term friend of everyone so he didn’t know Alya or Chloe and she wouldn’t doubt it if he had felt out of place in the conversation.

“Pst,” she scooted herself over, getting closer to him and leaning over to whisper at him. “You look nice today.”

Felix blinked in surprise. Within seconds his face was growing warm and he used his hand to cover the lower half of his face as inconspicuously as possible. “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to say that, Miss. Dupain-Cheng?”

“I’m afraid I beat you to it, Mr. Graham De Vanily.” She whispered back. “But it’s okay, you might get me next time.”

How long had it been since she was able to flirt with someone without losing herself in the what-if’s and teenaged anxiety that had plagued her? How had one battle fighting side by side with Ryuko, Alley Cat, and the others given her so much confidence that she hadn’t had even during the fight itself? Was it that damned cat’s words? He had unknowingly complimented her to her face and she was still beaming with pride over being called brilliant. Being complimented on her looks was nice, but the way he had complimented her on her mind was something else. She supposed that was what did it, after all. Being told that she was great because of who she was and not because of how she looked filled her with a pride she didn’t even want to describe lest it dampened the feeling inside her chest.

“Well then, until next time, you look wonderful. You’re outfit choice is on point, as always.” His comment hit straight to her heart. There it was again. A comment on something she chose being good. “And although you are trying to start a fire with my face, I am enjoying this time with you away from colour pallets and order forms. I like seeing this other side of you, Marinette.”

“I’d like to say the same thing, but it has come to my attention that you seem to only wear suits, Felix. This is the same side of you I always see.” She couldn’t help her grin. There was a strange formal banter between them that she found exhilarating. In it’s own way it made her feel like part of the aristocratic world that he and Adrian and Kagami belonged to, without having to deal with the fakeness that the latter two often complained about. “Dare I say, I don’t believe you own anything that isn’t a suit.”

“I’d hate to inform you of this, but you’re incorrect on that front.” Felix moved the hand that was covering his face to let himself rest his chin upon it. “I do, and I’d prefer it if you don’t go to the press with this, own a few sets of pajamas.”

“And are they silk and made to look like a suit?” She asked, now leaning against him to softly poke at his arm. “I bet you had them custom made so that you would never appear unprofessional.”

“Well, well, aren’t you curious to see my pajamas? Shame you won’t get to see them until our fourth date.” Felix leaned his head against hers, and her heart began to race.

“So, are you two actually a thing?” Nino’s voice broke them out of their moment. Marinette and Felix realized how it must have looked to the others and immediately sat straight in their seats.

Nathaniel elbowed Nino in the ribs. “Dude!”

“What? I’m just trying to clear things up for my daily Alya report.” Nino tried to defend himself from the onslaught of hands trying to hit him from Marc and Nathaniel. “It gets complicated sometimes and you know my girl won’t let anything rest until she has all the info!”

“If Miss. Dupain-Cheng would like to, as you put it, actually be a thing, then I would be honoured to.” He said it so simply that Marinette wasn’t sure why she had hesitated before. He did like her.

“Only if you wear your pajamas to our next late night planning session.” Marinette wasn’t willing to let the pajamas slide. “I have to see you out of a suit before we get all lovey dovey. It’s a rule.”

“Did you make that rule just for me?”

“Of course.”

“Well, don’t I feel special.” Felix thought to himself, making a bit of a show of it as he tossed his head side to hide. His braid that previously rested on his shoulder now swinging back and forth behind him, looking like a cat's tail as it got ready to play. “I think I have room to negotiate here, so if I may I am going to put the added condition that you must also wear your pajamas.”

“I don’t think this is supposed to be a business transaction, dude,” Nino tried, but Marinette held her hand up. She could negotiate.

“I’ll accept those terms on the condition that you buy coffee, and we get to watch a movie together with some popcorn.” Marinette raised her brow, daring Felix to try to get a better deal out of her.

“If I am purchasing coffee, popcorn, and a movie, then I will push for some baked goods from your parents bakery.” Felix held out his hand. “Well?”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Graham De Vanily, but I accept your terms.” Marinette took his hand and shook it. That was the most fun she had ever had while figuring out plans for a date, and she knew she’d have more fun watching the movie with Felix than she just did. “A movie date in our pajamas with snacks it is.”

“I’ll pick you up friday night at eight?”

“I can’t wait to see your suit pajamas.”

“I bet you have frills on yours.”

“And you don’t?”

#felix x marinette #felinette #fanon felix #felix graham de vanily #Marinette #marinette dupain cheng #marc anciel #nathaniel kurtzberg #Nino lahiffe #adrigami #adrien x kagami #Those worth fighting for #twff

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chooseyouovereveryone · 3 years ago

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Hi- as a big Naya fan, how do you deal with grief about her passing? We are nearly 2 years on and I'm just not coping well. I almost feel like I was in a sense of shock and denial when it happened but in the past few months it has really hit me all of a sudden, and I've been crying a lot about it. But I feel it's not normal for me to be this upset about someone I never knew!?! And am I ever going to be able to watch stuff again with her and feel happy??? I'm suddenly struggling to even watch Glee scenes, which was never a prob before.

Hey,

Okay I don't touch on this much because it's still raw for me too but, if it helps it helps.

Posting under the cut incase people don't want to read this:

First of all, don't be so hard on yourself. There is no "normal" way to grieve, it looks different on everyone. And it really doesn't matter if you knew her or not. It's an incredibly tragic situation and I can guarantee it's touched many people beyond her family, friends and fans. Like even someone who had never heard of her would hear/read about it and find it terribly sad. But as a fan of course there is an added layer of sadness. It's absolutely okay for anyone to feel sad about this and cry and grieve her, and no one should ever invalidate your feelings.

I can kind of relate to your feelings of being in denial. I experienced that too. My ex called me to tell me she was missing and I went into a state of absolute disbelief and yeah...denial. I remember thinking there was no way she could be gone, that she'd be found safe and alive and be reunited with Josey. She was way too vibrant and talented and too good of a person to be gone. I think I knew deep down but I refused to believe it, then she was found and I was consumed by grief and yet more disbelief. I just couldn't wrap my head around it, and I don't think I accepted it for well over a year. I struggled to talk about her in past pronouns and I think it's only in the past 6 months or so that I've started to get some closure and accept she's no longer here.

There's really no guide book on how to deal with it, and everyone does it differently, and there's no right or wrong. For me I like to celebrate her and do things in honour of her and keep her memory alive by talking about her. I know some people who can't bring themselves to watch anything with her in, but I'm the opposite, and when she first passed I found myself completely revisiting everything she was (and still is). From Glee to watching all my old fav interviews of her to listening to her audio book again. That's how I feel right now but maybe one day my feelings will change and I'll struggle to watch things. I'm sure your current predicament will change too, and you'll find yourself being able to watch and enjoy her again. That's the thing with grief, it's ever changing. How you feel tomorrow might be different from how you feel next week.

Just take each day as it comes, one day at a time. If you ever need to talk further my messages are always open.

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monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

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Male orc (Vilugh) x male reader (sfw) - Part Two

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This should have gone up on here yesterday, and has been available on my $5 Patreon tier for a week as the fourth ‘early release’ story on Patreon in July (every Wednesday).

You may recall the first chapter that I posted as an unedited WIP (Tumblr link) a while ago and had lots of encouraging comments about and some interest in seeing more from Vilugh and the prince. So, here it is! Sorry it's a bit late - things have just been nuts here lately. I wanted this to be the final chapter, but... plot happened. So... there'll be more in the future!

Content: continuing on from last time where our scholarly prince with the unfathomably dickish king for a father was told he was going to spend six months with the orcs, we see Vilugh again, meet his sister, and finally, get to the encampment. (tw: brief mention of past death of reader’s older brother, and constantly being compared to him by the aforementioned dickish king...)

Wordcount: exactly 4000. *nice*

Part One

To say that I was furious with my father for only deigning to inform me of my new situation for the next six months would have been an understatement. I knew I wasn’t the ruler-son that he’d envisaged taking over from him, but I had thought that my rather impressive record for strategy and tactics spoke for itself, not to mention that I was responsible for almost single-handedly planning and instigating massive economic reforms that not only refilled the monarchy’s gradually-dwindling coffers but promoted trade and gave our floundering, stagnating economy a huge boot up the backside. And yet, still, I was not enough. I was not my brother.

Fuming, I strode along the corridors from the great hall up to my chambers and nearly flattened a poor serving girl as she left one of the rooms along the way. “I’m sorry,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Highness,” she chirped, dipping into a curtsy and scurrying away before I could explain myself.

My reputation had gone from ‘scholar prince’ to ‘Royal Monk’ by the time I was twenty five, but I was also known for being moody and sullen, with a perpetual scowl on my lean - I thought gaunt - face. No wonder I’d frightened her. As I stared in the speckled mirror in my bedroom, I saw a face and body that would hardly impress the orcs to whom I was about to be packed off like a spare bit of cargo for six months. Why? What what did my father have to gain from sending me to a group of people who, until my teenage years, had been our enemies? They weren’t exactly our best friends now either.

The orcs right across the continent had begun to think about trade with us since Khraxh and her warband had first agreed to peace talks, and while the mountain orcs were still ferociously opposed to any kind of truce or trade talks with the soft, plains- and forest-dwelling humans, Khraxh had clearly seen the advantages that at least a ‘polite understanding’ would have with us. We had the monopoly on iron ore with our goblin-run mines to the east, and due to our superior charcoal burning techniques, we were able to forge steel like almost no one else, save perhaps the goblins themselves.

Goblins, like humans, had a long and turbulent history with orcs. Historically, encounters between the two peoples mostly ended in absolute annihilation of entire goblin communities by the larger and stronger orcs - hence their very slight preference for dealing with humans. It really was only a slight preference, however. Goblins were wary and untrusting of most folks, but it was understandable. They were a skittish, intolerant folk, quick to be offended and even quicker to give it.

Staring into that age-freckled mirror, I saw my lacklustre, pale skin, with no distinguishing features, save perhaps for my mother’s dark eyes and a slightly hooked nose. Where Dannan had been the golden boy of our family - qujite literally with his curly blond hair - I was the proverbial and, of late, the literal, dark horse. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark expression…

Needless to say, I got little sleep that night, which added to the dark shadows beneath those dark eyes. I turned it over and over as I lay amid the fine silk sheets. In the end, I came to the rather unsettling conclusion that my father hoped I wouldn’t survive my time with the orcs so that he could install someone like my cousin Balgrun on the throne after his demise. Not that anyone imagined that a king as tenacious and bitter as my father would ever give up his hold on life; he was simply too stubborn to die, I was sure of it. True, I was useful, but I was not a leader. I honestly crumbled to a trembling, stammering, sweating mess if I had to address the public myself, and I considered more than three people to be an abhorrent crowd. He’d raised me to be the shadow to my brother’s light, and I fulfilled that role too well to be trained to shine in public now.

Gritting my teeth the next morning, I stood on the sweeping steps of the royal castle, awaiting the arrival of the orcs.

The squeal of a war boar from the far side of the castle’s curtain wall announced their presence before the trumpets and shouts did. I drew a deep breath and kept my skinny hands folded behind my back. No need to let them see me shaking. The king emerged from the doors behind me and fixed me with his usual, emotionless glower. “Don’t embarrass me, son,” he muttered under his breath. “They do us great honour by taking you to the heart of their lands for so long a time.”

I raised my eyebrow. My mother had been able to do that, according to Rigmore. The castle steward and she had apparently been good friends, and when I had learned to do it, he had laughed and said I was the picture of my mother. Naturally, I did it around my father whenever I could just to rile him up. “Tell me, father,” I said with carefully controlled coolness in my voice. “What exactly do you hope to achieve out of my royal stay with — what was it you called them yesterday? — oh yes… ‘those beasts’.”

His lip curled and his eye twitched. “You will do well not to repeat that, boy,” he snarled.

I laughed and shook my head. “Out of the two of us, I seem to be the only one who values my hide, father. Fear not though, I have no intention of pissing off my captors.”

“Captors? Guardians, more like. The honour of hosting the son of the most powerful king on this continent will not be lost on them,” he said fervently, grey eyes drifting to the portcullis and main entrance to the bailey behind me.

“Surely you had some mission in mind for me then?”

“Win them over with that naive charm of yours,” he said dismissively, still not looking at me. “You could have charmed your way into the beds of half the nobility of this kingdom, despite your… physique… Fuck them if you have to,” he said in a hiss in my ear, “But I want them in an advantageous trade deal by the end of next spring. Butter them up, win their trust, and we’ll have the brutes in our pockets.”

“And if I don’t manage that?” I asked.

His eyes flashed. “Then you really aren’t of any use to me at all, are you?”

It wasn’t a wholly unexpected answer. The man was always the king before he was my father, but still, I barked out a loud and undignified laugh just as the orcs entered amid a clatter of cloven trotters and squealing war beasts, feeling empty and hollow. “Goddess be merciful,” I cursed. “You just want me out of the way while you wine and dine Balgrun in my absence. Oh yes,” I chuckled back at him over my shoulder, practically skipping down the stairs and strangely looking forward to my six month ‘holiday’ from the backstabbing and conniving of the castle. “I asked around; I know you’re asking my dear little cousin to stay. Perhaps you can show him the ropes in six months, and perhaps the orcs will decide I’m more useful as a toothpick than a diplomat, and you’ll have a reason to go to war with them again, wipe them off the plains, and then nothing will stand in your way between the coast and the mountains.”

And with that, I left him sputtering on the steps, his face a rather nasty puce colour. I’d figured out his alternative plan, and if he thought for a moment I was going to let him have it, he was a dotard.

“Greetings,” I said, addressing Vilugh in the common Trade Tongue. “Regrettably I have not had the chance to learn your language yet, otherwise I would have greeted you in your own tongue.”

The orc swung down from his boar and dropped the reins to the flagstone floor, ground-tying the beast the same way I might have ground-tied my mare. Starling was, to my relief, already saddled and ready for me, standing with her bridle in the hands of a groom and stamping her hoof in anticipation of an outing.

Vilugh was every bit as colossal and imposing as I remembered him from the last time I’d seen him, if not more so. I knew he had to be ten years or so older than me, and if he was thirty five, he was still in his absolute prime. His green-skinned chest was largely bare, save for the leather strap that reached diagonally from one hip to the opposite shoulder, holding up the leather hunting skirt that hugged his hips and hid very little from the imagination. He didn’t have the defined abs of the veiner fighters I’d seen who liked to show off their lean, oiled bodies for the attention of the crowd, but his middle was packed with solid fat and muscle that spoke of the strength of two or three oxen. His thighs could have crushed one of our warhorses to a bloody slurry if he’d fancied trying, and his hands were as big as the buckler shields favoured by fancy duellers in the city. Small for a shield, but very big for a hand.

His eyes were still that unnerving black that I recalled from my youth, and they were every bit as perceptive as I remembered too. He raked his gaze up my slim form, no doubt also cataloguing my physical features and sartorial preferences. That day I had chosen simple buckskin leggings, suitable for long distance riding, and a loose, linen shirt. My hair was tied back in a practical style at the nape of my neck, and across the front of my saddle, I had instructed my servant to tie a leather hunter’s jerkin for when evening drew in and it inevitably got much colder. In my saddlebags I had had simple, comfortable clothing packed, with none of the fripperies and fineries with which a prince might be expected to travel. Orcs were a pragmatic and practical people, and having a whiny prince demanding to stop for wine and grapes halfway there would win me no favours with them.

“We can teach you to speak orcish if you want,” Vilugh said in a voice like a rock slide.

I couldn't help but grin at the chance to learn something else, and nodded. “Thank you. I’d like that. I can’t promise to be any good, but I’ll try.”

To my surprise, Vilugh laughed. “From what I hear, you’re a quick learner, prince. You’ll catch on quick enough I reckon.”

Relief washed through me. The warrior was polite and had a sense of humour. As much as my father’s court frustrated me, I knew where to tread there, and how far I could push and poke before I risked too much. With the orcs, I had no idea yet what might provoke them or amuse them. I also had no idea how they felt about this arrangement, or how my presence among them would be received.

“If you’d like to rest or feed your mounts, and seek the same for yourself, then please make yourselves comfortable, otherwise I’m ready to leave whenever you are.” I left it up to him to decide, and after a quick look at my father, still standing on the castle steps like a lone lion on a rock while hyenas prowled below, Vilugh shot me a look of a different calibre.

“These boar can ride all day without stopping for food or water; three days without rest,” he said in a measured voice, walking at my side and casting my entire body into shadow with his immense height and breadth.

He was testing me, and I didn’t fall for it. “And yet the ride from your mother’s bastion is four days from here,” I replied with the same even tone.

Vilugh’s eyes glittered with amusement. “The piss you people drink for ale should be enough for now.”

It was easy enough for me to take a chance on his sense of humour with my father’s bowmen lining the walls and the honour guard ranged up the stairs nearby. “For you or for the boars?” I quipped, turning away and inviting him to follow me.

Again, the massive - and honestly quite intimidating - orc let out a long, loud belly-laugh of amusement. “Hay will do for the boars just now, though they prefer meat when they can get it.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” I muttered.

The boars were seen to, and I led Vilugh and the two other orcs who had accompanied him up to meet my father. Neither Vilugh nor his fellow warriors bowed or bent the knee to my father I was pleased to note, and it got my father’s hackles up like a like a bristling tomcat. I almost could have kissed the enormous warrior just for putting my father on the back foot already, but honestly, what did he expect? Did he think the orcs would prostrate themselves before him? They’d hardly done that last time, so I couldn’t imagine he’d be so conceited as to think they’d do it this time.

“Your majesty,” Vilugh said.

“Welcome,” my father said, his tone more tightly-clipped than the box hedge in the castle’s knot garden. “Will you be staying for some refreshments before you return to your people with my son?”

“Just long enough to give the boars a breather,” Vilugh said with easy diplomacy.

The other warriors he’d brought with him were the older, one-armed orc I’d skittered away from as a child, and a female I didn’t recognise but who had the most incredible, blue eyes I’d ever seen. Vilugh must have caught me admiring her in the great hall because he leaned in close and growled without real sting, “Stare too long at my sister and she’ll most likely cut out your eyes, princeling.”

“I was just admiring hers,” I yipped quickly, regretting the rather boyish note to my usually hoarse tenor. “Blue eyes are not so common in these parts, that’s all. I meant no offence by it.”

Seated beside him at the table, she leaned close to her brother and barked something in orcish at him. He looked briefly back at me, and then responded in the same. They conversed for a moment and I sat there with my spine dead-straight and my jaw clenched. When Vilugh turned back to me, he grinned. “Rhana says that if the pretty human princeling wants to stare at her, he can, but he’ll have to answer to her wife when we get back.”

“Far be it from me to come between an orc and her wife,” I chuckled anxiously.

When Vilugh translated, they both laughed and Rhana reached behind her brother and cuffed me on the shoulder hard enough that I was almost sent reeling off my seat and onto the floor, which got another laugh out of them and drew a glare of daggers from my unnerved father. Good. Let him be baffled that I was already getting along with these warriors like soldiers in the barracks. He’d clearly not expected me to have any idea how to behave around them, but while I didn’t spend my spare time in our own guards’ barracks, I observed the way everyone in the castle interacted with each other. It was what I’d been trained to do, after all: notice things and remember them.

All in all, the orcs didn't linger long, and we were on our way within an hour.

The pace of the first few hours of the ride alternated between a brisk walk and trotting, though my mare jogged excitedly for the first hour of that until I finally convinced her that we were in it for the long haul. The grooms kept her fit and well-schooled since I couldn’t step away from the castle regularly enough to do it myself, but by the end of the day, even my indomitable Starling was beginning to flag. I patted her neck and murmured that we’d probably break camp soon, and, sure enough, we did.

Once a small fire was lit, with the dry twigs of plains brush-scrub, and carefully warded in a low pit to stop it spreading across the arid plain, I drew out my rations from my saddlebag and Vilugh shot me a look of mild surprise.

“What?” I asked, nervous that I’d committed some inadvertent transgression by digging in before they’d started eating.

After a moment, the orc heaved himself down onto the ground beside me, long, black plait thwacking against his back at the motion. Then he said almost conspiratorially, “You’re not what I was expecting.”

Unwrapping the bread and hard cheese from their waxed linen wrappings, I frowned. “Just what were you expecting, might I ask?”

He shrugged a massive shoulder and drew out a similarly wrapped parcel - much larger - with dried meat and a hard looking biscuit that I thought would probably crack my own teeth before it broke. “Honestly… going off the last time I saw you, and from what your father said of you in talks with my mother… I thought you’d be a fragile little bird. You’re not.” He looked at me, dark eyes glittering in the fire like polished onyx and added, “You are skinny as a bird, but you’re not weak.”

“How would you know?” I scoffed. “I could be too weak to draw my sword. It could just be strapped to my waist for show…” In fact, it was now unbuckled and lying behind me with my saddle and bags, while Starling was hobbled nearby and looking rather disdainfully at the slim grazing afforded by the scrubland where we’d paused. Finest high-summer hay, it was not.

“You move like a dancer,” he said, and I immediately choked on a breadcrumb.

He had to slap me on the back and offered me a skin of water. I washed the offending clog down and gawped at him. “What would you know about human dancers?” I asked without thinking.

“I’ve travelled to the cities on the coast,” he said. “They dance in the marketplaces on festival days.”

“Oh,” I said. And then my cheeks flushed. “I’m not… You know… those dancers are… uh… paid to do more than dance… shall we say.”

It took Vilugh a moment to catch on, but he seemed embarrassed at his mistake. “I meant no insult by it,” he said. “They’re very beautiful.”

“That they are,” I admitted. My father had tried to entice three of them into bed with me after one evening spent in the company of one of his duchesses, but when I’d shown more interest in her library than her twittering prostitutes, he’d given up. Apparently the finest courtesans in the land weren’t going to make me proper man in his eyes, so it wasn’t worth trying.

Vilugh must have seen my memories swirling across my face, because he didn’t bring it up again, and we ate in a rather awkward silence after that. The orcs drew lots for the watch, and Vilugh drew the first and insisted that as their guest, I should not be expected to deprive myself of sleep. Plus, apparently, the next day’s riding would be harder and he didn’t want me falling out of my saddle when I dozed off. Also orcs’ eyes were more like cats’ eyes in the dark, I discovered, when I looked up and saw Rhana’s glinting at me from across the fire and nearly had a heart attack. She laughed and wished me pleasant dreams.

Taking their well-meaning jibes in my stride, I nodded and bedded down in my humble bedroll. It was the type that hunters used, made of breathable buckskin and lined with fleece to keep off the chill of the plains, and although I’d only spent one or two nights in it in my life, I slept better that night than I had in years, not waking until Vilugh's surprisingly gentle touch at my shoulder stirred me not long after dawn.

Over the course of the next few days, Starling developed a comical rivalry with Rhana’s boar, the two taking every opportunity to bite or scuffle with each other, though it never seemed to get truly vicious enough for either of us to worry about, so we let it play out to our amusement. Perhaps because of that and perhaps because I just simply liked them for their gruff honesty, by the time the wooden palisade walls of the orcish war-band’s permanent stronghold drew into view on a wind-blown hilltop, I felt relatively comfortable with the three orcs who had been sent to fetch me.

The older one with one arm was called Rhakak, and was apparently Vilugh’s cousin. He was taciturn and unflinching, watchful and grim, but not aggressive towards me. I still gave him a wide berth though.

But if I’d thought Rhakak was intimidating, it was nothing to Vilugh's mother.

I remembered her from her visit to the castle, but nothing could quite have prepared me for the sheer presence the matriarch had amongst her own people. She was standing waiting for us as we rode up to the walls of the stronghold, and even though Vilugh had told me that Khraxh wouldn’t hold me to the same etiquette as she would a visiting orc, I still nearly shat my pants in fear when I got off Starling’s back and found her surveying me with a distinctly unimpressed look on her weathered, beautiful face.

She really was beautiful. Her body was honed and muscular, but her movements were sleek and efficient, and in much the way a war galley cuts through the water and bristles with power, so she moved with the dormant power of a life-long warrior. Her long, thick hair had turned grey in the intervening decade since I’d seen her, and she’d lost half a tusk too, but the way the gathered orcs arranged themselves around her reminded me of a wolf and her pack. She commanded absolute obedience in them, and unyielding loyalty. In that moment, I did feel afraid, and suddenly very much not up to the seemingly impossible task I had been set.

With a rather endearing patience, Vilugh had taught me the phrase to speak in orcish upon meeting her, and once I could finally get my tongue around the complex vocal gymnastics of the orcish language, he said I would not be flayed alive for completely embarrassing my tutor.

Thus, upon our first meeting, I nearly sprained my jaw, but I gained perhaps a modicum of respect from the veteran war chief. As the three orcs sent to the castle to fetch me had now bowed, neither did I, but I did incline my head as I spoke. There was no need to act like a prideful brat after all.

If my father was expecting me to make enemies of these people and inadvertently lure them into killing me and sparking a war, then I was bloody well going to do the opposite. I wasn’t a warrior, but I had my mind, and I was damned if I was going to fuck things up and go down in history as the skinny little prince who kicked off the orc-human conflict all over again.

Humble but not meek, studious but not annoyingly curious, polite but not obsequious, opinionated but not obnoxious… I began to feel my way through the stronghold’s hierarchy, and miraculously survived my first week there without insulting anyone.

One week down, twenty three more to go…

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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#exophilia #male orc #orc x reader #male orc x male reader #male monster x male reader #mlm #mlm exophilia #1st person narrative #male monster #male reader

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wonder-kid-pugh · 4 years ago

Text

No Matter What - (Jessie Fleming x reader)

In honour of of Jessie making her (20 second) debut (fuck sake Chelsea) I decided to write this. Now I started it yesterday and it's slightly rushed but I hope you enjoy it!!!

17 years ago

"Don't go too far now Y/n!" My mom shouts as I run into the park. "I won't!" I call back as I keep running. I kick my ball in front of me and chase after it. I start messing around with the ball trying to do tricks. Maybe falling over the ball ever once in a while. I scoop the ball up and try to do some kickie uppies. But I only get to 3 before I kick the ball too hard and sends it flying off to the right through a bush.

I let out a sigh before jogging over to the bush the ball went through. I look to see the ball went through the bush. I push myself through the bush and look around the trail that was hidden behind the bush. I smile as I see a girl standing there with my ball.

I run up to her, "Hey! You found my ball!" She looks up at me and nods while holding out the ball to me. I smile as I take the ball and hold it under my arm, "My name is Y/n. What's yours?" She shifts awkwardly as she mumbles, "Jessie". I tilt my head at her as I scrunch my face at her, "What are you doing back here by yourself?"

She looks down at her shoes as she digs her foot into the dirt, "I was just exploring and I don't really have any friends". I smile at her, "I'll be your friend". She looks up at me, "Really?" I give her a big toothy smile, "No matter what". She smiles while I hold out my ball, "Well do you want to play soccer with me?"

She gives me a small smile and nods, "Okay". I grin as I grab her hand and pull her back towards the park, "Great! Let's go play!"

8 years ago

"Hey Y/n" Jessie smiles as she opens the door to me. But I can't find it in me to smile back as I bite my lip, "Hey Jess. Can we talk?" She frowns as she sees me, "Is everything okay?"

I sigh as I run my hand through my hair, "Can...can we sit down?" She nods as she walks over to the bench at the front of her house as we sit down. She doesn't say anything as she looks at me worried while I sit with my arms on my knees and my head in my hands. Cupping my hands over my nose and mouth I take a deep breath.

She's waiting for me to speak but I can't. Because if I say it out loud it makes it real and I can't take it back after. No matter how much I wish I could change it. "Y/n what is it? Your starting to scare me?" She eventually asks, "what's wrong?"

I can feel her eyes piercing the side of my skull but I don't look knowing it's going to be a hundred times worst if I look at her. I stare at a leaf on the ground as it tumbles past me in the wind, "We're moving away Jess". When she doesn't say anything I chance it and look at her as I see her stare at me in shock with her mouth open in disbelief, "What?" "We're leaving Jess" I breathe out my voice barely above a whisper.

She shakes her head at me as she sits up closer for me, "Is this another one of your dumb pranks? This isn't funny Y/n!" I let out a bitter chuckle as I look away from her, "I wish this was a joke Jess. I really wish it was".

She lets out a shaky breath, "Where?" I run both my hands through my hair as I scratch the back of my head in frustration, "California". Her head whips around at me and I could see the heartbreak on her face. "Dad got offered another job and he wants to be closer to help Grans and Gramps. He's already accepted the job" I explain not being able to bare the silence between us.

"How long until..." She can't even finish her question. Just like how she can't even look at me right now. I play with my fingers as I hunch back over my knees, "2 weeks..."

There's another silence neither of us knowing what to say. What do you say when your best friend has just told you your moving away and you won't be able to see each other.

"Well we'll...we'll get through it. I can come visit you. And we can call and text. And-and we'll see each other at camp. It'll all be fine" Jessie reassuringly. But I don't know who she's trying to convince. Me or herself.

I let out another sigh rubbing my eyes, "Jess....I can't". She furrows her eyebrows at me, "What do you mean you can't?" I bite the inside of my cheek as I look at her who seems to have a permanent frown on her face. I do anything to see her smile right now but I know I have to tell her now or else it would make things so much worst later on.

"Jess I talked with my parents and...we decided that the best thing for me to do is to swap to the American team" I say slowly as if it would soften the blow. But it does anything but, "What?" I go to grab her hand, "Jess you have to understand". But she pulls her hand away from me angrily, "Understand what? That your leaving!" I sigh, "Jess I can't be flying out for every camp". She stands up from the bench as she glares at me, "So your just going to leave me behind? We promised we would make our debut for the national team together!"

I try to reach out for her, "Jess please I wish there was another way but there isn't". "Just stay!" She tells me. "I can't Jess I'm sorry". But she steps away from me narrowing her eyes at me, "So your just going to give up on our dream. Give up on us!" My eyes start to water as I look at her, "Jessie please your my best friend. I wish there was another way but there isn't".

But she isn't having it and instead glares at me, "My best friend would never leave me like this!". I can feel my heart break as I see the girl I so desperately like look at me with so much hatred and anger as she spits out words at me like they're poison in her mouth, "I never want to see you again!"

Nothing could stop the tears flowing down my face as I watch her run into her house slamming the door behind her. I sniffle and wait for a little while hoping that she would come back but I know she wasn't. With a heavy sigh and I turn and walk back to my house.

And she kept her word as that was the last time I saw her before I was on a plane to America heartbroken.

7 years ago

I smile as the final whistle blows signalling the end of the match. I watch as the Canadian players surround her patting her on the back for a job well done. At 15 years old and she already had her debut for the Canadian national team.

The debut we were supposed to make together

I stay for another few minutes before I start to grab my stuff to leave. I just about made it out when someone speaks behind me, "You could stay you know?" I turn and shrug, "I don't want to ruin her big day". Elysse frowns at me, "She misses you, you know. A lot". I give her a small smile, "I miss her a lot too. She seems to be doing just fine".

But she still sighs, "Why won't you tell her your here? She'll want to see you!" The last words she spoke to me ring on my ears as I shake my head, "Like I said I don't want to ruin her big day. She should be happy". "Why did you come then?" She asks.

I sigh as I run my hand through my hair, "Because no matter what I will always care about her. Even if she doesn't want me too".

Present day

I smile in the back of the empty stadium as Jessie celebrates with her new teammates as she holds the community shield which she won from her first match with the team. When I look over at the Man City side I can see Janine already looking at me. Already knowing I was there as she knew I was coming to the match today.

She looks at me and I already know what she wants me to do but I shake my head. I look back over at the Chelsea side one last time before I walk back into the stadium like I wasn't even there.

I had just made it to the carpark when someone shouts my name, "Y/n wait!" My breath hitches as I stop in my tracks as I realise who is behind me. I can hear the clitter clatter of her boots against the stone as she stops behind me. I finally will myself to turn around to see her freckled face and rosy cheeks.

She stares at me lips parted but I can't tell how she's feeling as we both just stand there staring at each other. Until I eventually give her a small smile. "Hey Jess" I breathe out. "Hi Y/n" she whispers. I can't help but look her up and down. It's been years since I've seen her this close up. Sure I've seen her on TV and at matches but we haven't spoken since the day I told her I was leaving.

She was still all decked out in her Chelsea gear. Somehow looking even better than she did all those years ago. It was like the wind was knocked out of me as I meet her dazzling brown orbs which study me as she looks me up and dowm.

"How did you know I was here?" I ask. She looks down and plays with the card in her hand, "I found the flowers you left in my locker. And I knew it was you when I saw this". She holds up the small card that I had sent to her locker along with the flowers. I hadn't signed the card but I knew I didn't need to because of what I wrote.

I always knew you were going to be something great. Congrats on your first very professional game. I'll always be supporting you.

No matter what

I just nod. Honestly I was hoping I would have been gone by the time she saw the card. I just wanted to let her know that someone was supporting her. I knew her family couldn't be here because of the pandemic. And there was no way I was missing her first ever professional club game.

"How...how are you doing Y/n?" She asks fidgeting a bit. I just nod and shrug, "Good. Taking it day by day. Playing soccer the usual". Jess nods quickly before sighing, "Why did you come?" I bite my lip as I sigh. I knew the question was coming and it's been the same even since we were young. But I'm not sure how she would take the truth. So I shrug, "Couldn't miss your Chelsea debut". I could see her roll her to eyes.

"I played like 20 seconds"

I chuckled, "Still played didn't you?" She shakes her lips before staring at me again. "But why?" She presses. I purse my lips and tilt my head at her. She sighs as she closes her eyes and looks at the ceiling before looking back at me, "Why? Why after all these years? After me ignoring you for leaving? Why would you still come and support me?"

I sigh as shove my hands in my pockets and look her straight in the eye, "Because nothing could make me stop caring about you Jessie Fleming. No matter what".

She scoffs, "If you really cared that much you would have stayed". I frown as we're back to this, "Jess it wasn't that simple. I couldn't have stayed with Canada. Travelling back and forth for camps, it wouldn't of worked out". Jess glares at me, "You could have made it work! If it was the other way around, I would have done everything to make it work! Instead you gave up and left me!"

I couldn't take it anymore as I snap at the girl, "I didn't want to leave!" She stares at me shocked. Never in our entire lives have I ever blown up at the girl like this. I barely ever raised my voice at her.

Until now that is

I sigh letting my shoulder slump as I look at the girl, "You weren't the only one who lost someone. Yes you lost your best friend. But I lost my person. The girl who I was in love with since forever". Her mouth drops as she lets out a small gasp at my confession. So I decide to keep going, "I was there for your first cap with the national team. I was there for your first game with UCLA. When you win bronze in Rio. I was there for all of it. Because I'll always care about you Jessie Fleming even when you don't want me too".

Her eyes well up with tears as she sniffs, "I didn't know you were there for any of it". I shrug, "You weren't supposed to". She walks forward so we're now standing closer to each other within arm's reach as she looks up at me, "I'm so sorry Y/n. I was so mad that you were leaving that I didn't think of how you felt. I was just mad because..."

She sighs closing her eyes but I brush a hair behind her ear, "Jessie?" She sighs finally meeting my eyes, "Because I was in love with you too. And I didn't want you to leave". My mouth drops as I watch her fidget on the spot. "Was?" I breathe out as I feel my heart stop briefly.

She looks up at me shyly, "I still am". I can see her glance down at my lips and I waste no time as I cup her cheek and lean down and kiss her. She slowly returns the kiss as she wraps her arms around my neck. The kiss was better than I ever imagined it. My mind was a whirl as I try to comprehend that I'm actually kissing the girl I've liked ever since I was young.

When we finally break apart I lean my forehead against hers as we both breathe heavy. "I've wanted to do that for a long time" I whisper as a small smile spreads across her face. She nudges my nose with her own as she smiles at me, "I love you". I smile as I give her a quick kiss back.

"I love you too. No matter what"

#jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagines #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming #ucla soccer imagine #chelsea #canwnt #woso soccer #woso imagines

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