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sweetandgentlecreature · 9 months

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Friendly Fire

Author’s Note: Hello, again! I’d like to thank everyone who liked, commented, and shared my first little project. The love it received was overwhelming for a newbie to the fanfic scene, and I’m so grateful for the input and encouragement. This story takes place in the same timeline as my first installation, so if you haven’t had a chance to read Homeward Bound yet, you can find it here. Don’t worry, though! There won’t be a specific timeline to follow. The idea is to give little glimpses into an established relationship, so you’re not missing anything (yet!). We started with a reunion, so it only seems fair to take it back to where it all began. I can’t wait for everyone to meet the new woman in Sy’s life. Happy reading! Summary: Last night, Syverson met the love of his life. If only he could remember it. Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female OC Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol consumption and weapons, adult language, and (almost) implied smut. Sy is his own warning. I am an adult, and due to the nature of this content, all works created by me will be rated for those 18 years and older. Minors, DNI.

“Oh, fuck me,” Sy groaned to himself. He threw a heavy arm over his face and sighed, doing his best to block out the sun as it creeped in through the blinds, but resistance was futile. Stupidly optimistic birds chirped their early morning songs, each shrill call rattling around in his skull like an angry swarm of wasps, wild and pissed off. His body felt heavy, his joints ached, and his stomach churned. “I’m gettin’ too old fer this shit.”

Sy could handle a little hangover. He’d done it before, and Lord know’s he’d do it again. In truth, he’d been burning the candle at both ends since he’d made it home. Sy hadn’t taken a leave since his first year in the military. His reasoning? 30 days go by too quick, no use in getting comfortable somewhere just to pack up and ship out again. This time though, he’d decided that he’d earned a bit of a break. That, and his mama was threatening to cut him out of the will if he didn’t show his face at least once this year. Not that he’d get much, of course; that wasn’t the principle of her empty threats. He knew it just as well as she did. She was starting to get up there in age, and time waits for no one. Especially not for Clayton Syverson.

Groaning softly, he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, heavy limbs moving a little slower than usual this morning. He stretched and yawned, balling up a fist to rub the sleep from his bleary eyes. A thought crossed his mind as he worked to get those old bones moving again and he stopped dead in his tracks, hand still over his left eye and mouth still agape. “Wait…how the fuck did I make it home?”

Sy took stock of the room around him. At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of place. Everything was just as he’d left it. The tops of the dresser and chest of drawers were bare, as was the nightstand. The laundry basket that sat atop the trunk at the foot of the bed was still there, filled with neatly rolled t-shirts, socks, and skivvies. The only things that seemed to be out of sorts were his bed (since he hadn’t had the chance to make it yet), and his jeans that laid crumpled on the floor at his feet. “Weird,” he mused, and pushed himself to stand. Padding off to the bathroom for that blissful first piss of the day, he lifted the seat on the commode to relieve himself. Hold on. Lift the toilet seat? He hadn’t had to do that since he left home, nearly a decade ago.

“What the fuck is goin’ on, now?” Must’ve been a visit from the toilet seat fairy, since he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had stepped foot into this old house. Sy could feel the hair on the back of his neck start to prickle up as he washed his hands. When his eyes found his reflection in the mirror above the sink, he had to talk himself down again.

“Get a grip, dickhead. No one broke in just ta’ use the can.” Wandering back out to the bedroom, he’d almost made it out into the hallway, when he’d heard it. One more step, and he might’ve missed it. The soft creak of old floorboards below gave him another moment of pause. Sy held his breath as he listened intently for a moment, almost willing the house to groan again under the shift of weight. Nothing. A rush of wind left his chest as he sighed and shook his head. He swore himself off of corn liquor, never again, and took the stairs two at a time on his way down to raid the fridge for something to eat. “Hmm…somethin’ smells good. Is that–” Bacon. That ain’t no toilet fairy down there. Someone’s here.

Soft, tranquil humming echoed down the hall. Whoever it was seemed to like Fleetwood Mac, as they aimlessly flipped slice after slice of pork products into his skillet. A loud pop of grease made him, and the intruder, flinch. “Oww! Shit!” Then the tap squeaked, followed by the sound of rushing water, and Sy thanked God that he hadn’t had time to fix it yet. Good. He knew this old farmhouse like the back of his hand, so he knew exactly where the stranger would be standing when he'd walk in. They’d have their back to him, and he’d have the upper hand. Reaching blindly into the armoire to his right, he drew the revolver from the false bottom of the drawer and peaked around the corner of the doorframe. His thumb hovered over the hammer, ready to cock it, when what he saw gave him pause. Who he saw, was more like it.

“I know you.” The words came tumbling out before he could stop them. Her head snapped up from the sink as she turned towards the sound of his voice. She was just as startled as he was.

“Well, I sure hoped you would.”

Turning off the tap and reaching for a towel to dab at her scalded hand, she leaned against the counter like she owned the place. Her hair spilled down her shoulders and back in effortless, mahogany waves. The shirt she wore was stolen, and wrinkled from sleep. The logo was faded yet unmistakable, and the hem fell to about the middle of her sunkissed thigh. Why was she wearing his Skynard shirt? She watched as his eyes grew wide with realization, and it made her laugh.

“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy,” the intruder smirked, and lifted up the shirt to reveal a pair of cut off levis beneath it. “You sure tried like hell, but…nothing happened. How’s the head?”

Visions of last night’s bonfire flashed through his mind. It felt like flipping through a stack of polaroids. Everything was blurry, all soft and fuzzy at the corners. One minute, he was leaning against the tailgate of his truck, nursing a beer and watching as his friends acted a’fool. The next, Johnny was passing around a quart of his homemade moonshine and calling him a pussy for trying to turn it down. Damnit, Johnny. Sy recalled that the eyes that stared him down from across the room now were the same ones that gleamed at him in the warmth of the flames that flickered between them the night before. If only he could remember how they got there.

As if to read his mind, she nodded as she spoke, returning to the stove just in time to salvage the last of the bacon. “You, uh…you went a little hard with that paint thinner Johnny had. I just wanted to make sure you made it home alright. Hope that’s okay.” Sy licked his lips slowly as he processed what she was trying to say, then gave a short nod. He removed his finger from the trigger and tucked the gun away again as smoothly as possible. He didn’t want to spook her. She made him breakfast, after all.

“Right. Thank ya, Miss.” Deeming it safe again, he crossed the threshold into the kitchen and watched as she turned off the flame beneath the cast iron on the stovetop. He felt out of place, like he should be doing something to help, so he crossed the room to grab the orange juice from the fridge.

“Merrin,” she finished for him, then reiterated. “I’m Merrin. And you’re…Sy? That's what they call you, right?” For the first time all day, Sy cracked a crooked smile her way and pulled down two clean glasses from the cabinet beside the sink.

“Yes ma’am, but my mama named me Clay.”

“Clay. Got it.”

Breakfast was served, and the two strangers sat down to eat it. Merrin filled him in on what he missed from the night before. Johnny bet Sarah that she couldn’t shotgun a beer faster than he could. He lost. Petey and Melissa snuck off to the woods to skinny dip in the creek and came back with poison oak in some pretty intimate places. Roscoe passed out in the grass, and Luke and James had to carry him back to the house. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Saturday night in rural Texas. He asked about her, where she came from and what she was doing in his neck of the woods. She told him how she’d moved to town about six months ago, how she’d bought that cute little split level on the corner of Oak and Adams street. All Sy heard, though, was that he could’ve been sitting here with her six months ago. Maybe he outta come home more often.

–

“So,” he started, rinsing the suds from the face of his plate as he stood at the sink. They’d demolished that stack of bacon and eggs and were working to clean up after themselves. “How’d you end up in my shirt?”

Merrin smirked as she dried a glass and tucked it away again. “You don’t remember?” She was all too pleased to share this story. Sy laughed a deep, hearty chuckle that rattled loudly in his broad chest and shook his head.

“Well…” she teased. “We’d been staring at each other most of the night. I’d been waiting for you to introduce yourself, but after a while, I just thought I must’a looked funny or somethin’.”

“Mhm…” he hummed, his eyes never once leaving hers. He’d had a cup of coffee and a handful of Advil with his toast, so things were a little clearer now. He remembered watching her from afar as she chatted and giggled with her friends. He remembered thinking he’d want to remember the way she looked when she smiled his way. How he wanted to remember the way the light danced in her eyes when she laughed. She continued before he could ask her to carry on.

“When you finally got the courage to make a move, you decided that I looked a little thirsty. You grabbed me a beer, crossed the yard, tripped over a tree limb, and…poured it down my back.”

Sy winced. Surely she must be joking. One look at the smile on her face told him that she wasn’t, and he groaned. “Well shit, sugar. I’m real sorry. At least let me–”

“It’s already in the dryer. Don’t worry, big guy. You can pay me back when you take me out to dinner Friday night.” She gave a playful pat to his chest and grinned, brushing by him on her way to clear the rest of the table. Sy turned to follow her, his eyes grazing over the curve of her backside as she bent down to grab a napkin from the floor. He smiled, stacked the plate into the strainer and tossed a dish towel over his shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan, darlin’.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill smut #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fluff #captain syverson fic #syverson #henry cavill characters #syverson fluff #syverson smut #cpt syverson

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micheya · 11 months

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The Sound of Music | Genshin x Reader

Characters:

Part 1: Cyno and Albedo Part 2: Dehya and Fischl (out soon) Part 3: Razor and Yanfei (out soon)

Prompt:

"Eggo, what instruments do you play?" "piano, cello, guitar, electric bass, double bass and ukulele"

Synopsis:

Of all the instruments you play, what's their favourite?

Content warning:

No pronouns mentioned. Second Person. Can be interpreted as platonic or romantic

Genre: Fluff

Word count:

Cyno x reader - 1009 Albedo x reader - 969

@favonius-library my submission for the gift exchange for @egnengg

Cyno - Guitar

Leading on from the previous windblume festival and his quite strange but fun insistence to committing to his role as an adventurer, he thought it was perfect that you knew how to play instruments, even if you didn't get round to performing often, you had immediately acquired the role of "Travelling bard, tenacious and tactful with every touch made when playing their instruments." quite literally his words.

In any case, a guitar was just the most practical of the instruments you played. Carrying a double bass and piano around certainly wasn't efficient, and asking for someone to carry them or for a carriage to travel across the nation would be expensive. "That and we're supposed to be experienced and seasoned travellers,” he'd say, but really what's a TCG match without you playing some good background music as he once again takes Tighnari and Collei down. (You still didn’t know what being seasoned travellers had to do with you carrying what instrument. You assumed, maybe he was trying to say travellers don’t carry more than they can handle, and are efficient in terms of travel weight).

While the ukulele had the same benefits, and was technically easier to transport, he just much preferred the heavier sound and diverse range of a guitar. It would fit his range in voice when singing, and honestly it sounds a whole lot more dramatic when monologuing at the beginning or near the end of a match.

“You really thought such a move would work on someone as well versed as me?”, “I commend your efforts, you fought valiantly, but alas fell an inch too short.” and “And now begins yet another fateful match, another block in the road I have yet to carve a path through. I will emerge victorious.” and…

Well, you get the point.

Tighnari is almost resentful with the way you’ve been enabling him, groaning in displeasure whenever Cyno was or wasn’t playing. He seemed to always have something to say when near a TCG match. You’d think every once in a while he’d pull a book worthy quote, then he’d pop a joke right after and you’d instinctively stop playing to wallow in your disappointment. “I thought it was funny.”

And some were!

“Just not this one” you’d reply. Putting your guitar to the side for a bit, to relieve yourself from the ache of that day’s session.

When your hands would ache on the journey of your collective vacation, he’d often stretch out your hands, while massaging ointment onto them. You didn’t necessarily need the help, but it sure did feel nice, and getting free supplements for your skin at the request of Cyno to Tighnari surely could be counted as another win. Especially when he’d be the one insisting you play, “If our tactful and tenacious bard could play some battle music for the oncoming duel, we would be most grateful.”, “Y/n, how are your hands feeling, up for some practice with your guitar?”, “I really like that last song, could you play it again?”, “I found this music sheet being sold by a merchant, it looked like it’d sound good so I bought it. How about you give it a go.”

He was your biggest supporter, along with Collei and Tighnari, almost too big of a supporter (though in your heart you don’t think it’d ever be possible). It was endearing, and you were happy to have someone anticipate your next little performance, no matter whether you played perfectly or made a few to many mistakes.

When asked of any hobbies outside of Genius invocation TCG, he’d smile fondly and answer playing guitar with his family. Collei had one day gone to Cyno talking about wanting to learn the guitar after watching you play for so long, she thought it’d be fun, she didn’t know if she’d be interested in the instrument in the long run for herself but figured it would be a fun way to bond and also help with the rehabilitation of her fingers.

He nodded, humming thoughtfully too, he had often wished for the opportunity to play with you, the thought of spending more time with you never ceasing to warm his heart. So plucking up the courage to ask you to teach them, the two bashfully yet filled with a steadfast determination, approached you with their newly bought guitar’s.

‘Why not?’, you thought, “You already have your guitars, and this would be good for Collei… Let’s make a schedule.” and therefore began what would be a weekly session with Collei and, if lucky, bi-monthly Cyno would join due to his work schedule, (with Tighnari popping in to watch with some snacks).

Off duty, the way Cyno would express himself would sharply contrast with the deadly aura he’d exude when interrogating wrongdoers. His neutral expressions on and off duty, while similar, would often have his co-workers tilt their heads trying to play ‘spot the difference’. His eyebrows would ever so slightly relax their barely seen creases now completely unseen, the slight downturn in his lips instead changing into a slight upturn.

Many couldn’t put their finger on what exactly on his face had changed, but then again the fear that they had done something unknowingly wrong for the general Mahamatra to even be in their presence often clouded any sort of thought process they had going on.

“What brings you here today, General?”

“Be at ease, I’m just here to report on my latest mission. The perpetrators have been turned in, and so I’ll be taking my time off for the next two days.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re in a good mood.” The Professor unknowingly let out a sigh with his chuckle, that’s why he seemed a bit different.

“Yes, I wasn’t expecting it to be so obvious, but really it’s to be expected.” Unable to hold back his smile at the thought of the next guitar session with you and Collei he nodded, “I was very particular in finishing this job quickly, as I’ll be going to visit my family.”

Albedo - Ukulele

One of Albedo’s most recent wonders in his life is how you make his synthetic heart beat with joy when around. It’s always a joy to spend time with you, even when he’s busy with his experiments and hardly sees anyone all day. Those little passing-bys he manages to squeeze in when in Mondstadt for work has him counting himself fortunate.

Especially when he knocks on your door to be greeted by the sound of small excited footsteps and a joyful, “Y/n! Y/n! Big brother is finally here!”

Whenever he hears that, he’s only reminded of Klee’s answer when he had asked how she could always tell it was him at the door. “Wow, Klee, you were right.” You smiled standing behind her as she leapt onto her brother’s leg in a tight hug, “He does knock to that rhythm. You really do have a good memory, huh?” You praised the little girl as she nodded an even bigger smile on her face.

“I know my brother the best.” Letting go of said brother she puffed out her chest, arms by her side to further showcase the pride she held. It was endearing, and she almost seemed to glow in the afternoon sun that peered through the doorway.

“I’m grateful to have such a caring sister like you, Klee,” Albedo said, patting her head, before finally entering your house, “So, what have you been up to today? Drawing? Learning some new music?”

Barely finishing his sentence, Klee grabbed his hand and dragged him through the building, with a “Follow me!”, taking him to your music room where pillows, crayons, drawings and instruments lay on the ground. “Look, look..! This is me….and this is Y/n and,” The ‘and’ was elongated, “we’re playing in front of a crowd, and” again the ‘and’ elongated, “We're singing a song-” She dropped her picture and picked up a ukulele, one of two, Albedo’s eyes followed her, a soft smile instinctively making way, as he took two of the stray pillows on the floor, handing one to you and sitting down next to you who soon followed suit. “We’re singing this.”

Klee took a breath, a little cough rumbled to clear her little chest, as she sat down (more like suddenly dropping her body weight without caution) and wiggled a bit more to adjust herself. One more exhale escaped from her with closed eyes before she slowly opened them with a smile again.

Clumsy, but clearly well practised, fingers played a C chord, her first ‘down down up up down up’ strums, a little slower than the original tempo, but in the beat (which she was proud of) it was supposed to be in, “...You are my sunshine-” An uncontrollably bright smile appeared on your lips, as you swayed and nodded along to her, even with the little pauses between the change of chords. “You make me happy, when skies are grey…”

Albedo glances between the two of you, seemingly pausing, despite there not originally being any movement. He feels warm, and overcome with an overwhelming fondness to the situation, a stark contrast to the type of intrigue he feels when researching new alchemic breakthroughs. Truly a different type of revitalisation, he thinks when watching Klee fumble but finish the performance nonetheless, glowing at the applause, hi-fiving and running back to the image she was previously explaining.

It was a bit longer than a pass-by greeting (He would have to apologise to Timaeus for the late report), the three of you ultimately eating lunch together talking about anything and everything. All taking turns listening intently to the topics of interest each person had. It was more than just a normal pleasant afternoon stroll, there was an emotional connection strengthening with each visit, an invisible link formed with every activity spent together and a bit of time invested into learning more about the other person, with making an effort to get along with those they also loved.

“So, Klee, what song will you be learning next?” Albedo asked. His body shifted ever so slightly, inclined towards her.

“I want to learn piano next. Twinkle twinkle little star.” She replied, mouth still full of food, “Can we, y/n?”

“Oh, really? But you looked particularly good at the ukulele, are you already done with it?” He frankly was a tad bit disappointed, he thought she looked especially cute when playing it, and thought he’d be able to see future performances with it.

“Don’t worry. You can see Klee play ukulele more another time.” The young girl responded, “I just really really want to play the piano this time. It looks soooooo cool!”

“You really do know me well, Klee” Albedo once again smiled.

There seemed to be no shortage of those that day. There also seemed to be no shortage of those same smiles the next time he dropped by for Klee’s next performance, which was as cute as the last. He supposed that it wouldn’t matter what she played, she'd still look adorable. However, he knew he still held a bit of bias to how her voice sounded when singing along to you or her playing the ukulele. Maybe it was because that was the instrument he had seen her playing first. The one he first witnessed you teach her, and the instrument out of size and cost convenience she bought to learn along with you, kicking off this new implicitly agreed on rendezvous.

Yes, he was quite fond of watching you play your other instruments. But the ukulele held a slightly different emotional weight to it, he figured it was also these little bits of bias held within the heart of a person that made them human. On days like these, any doubt of him being anything but, would fade away.

A/n: Please reblog :')

#favoniuslibrary #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #albedo x reader #cyno x reader #albedo x gender neutral reader #cyno x gender neutral reader #albedo x gn reader #cyno x gn reader #genshin imagines #genshin oneshot

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 3 years

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Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

242 notes · View notes

ediths · 3 years

Text

the weekend

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You get a lot more out of a songwriting session with Harry Styles than you ever bargained for.

Warning(s): cheating, explicit language, suggestive comments (nothing super explicit happens though), angst

A/N: this is a submission for nat’s ( @harrystylescherry ) song fic challenge!! this is based on “The Weekend” by SZA, so i’d recommend listening to that either before or while reading this so you get the gist of what this is about!!!

Masterlist | Request | Come Talk | Patreon

You’re nervous.

Should you be? Not really. You’ve written songs with and for hundreds of fantastic artists before, but there’s something about helping Harry Styles write one that has your nerves on end. Maybe it’s his fanbase, how they pick and critique everything to get the full experience. Maybe it’s the expectations of another number one from the next new song. Maybe it’s the way that your sister had sent you text after text freaking out about how good he is at what he does (If he’s so good, why will he even need your help? What if he hates the fact that you’re there and that makes him despise you?). Or maybe, just maybe it’s the way that you run headfirst into him when you walk into the room.

Immediately, there’s a ring clad hand on your shoulder to help steady you. “Are you okay, love?” he asks, British accent thick through his words.

You nod, cheeks burning with the embarrassment of the mishap. At least he doesn’t seem to hate you, though. He seemed pretty chipper, so maybe he just likes to have a new set of eyes and ears every so often to aid in the songwriting process. That thought sets you at ease, and you immerse yourself in the routine of it all.

The entire day goes by faster than you’d like it to, honestly. It’s filled with suggestions, edits, and ideas thrown into the air. It’s all very smooth and you find yourself wishing that you worked with people more like Harry more often. He’s smart and talented but he isn’t stuck up about it. That’s something that you like about him, he knows that he’s capable of doing this but he’s not cocky.

More than once throughout the few hours that you’re around him, you find yourself looking over at his features. Really, how could you not? He’s undeniably attractive, and you’ve never been one to pretend that you don’t see something that you like when you do. As subtly as possible, you sneak glances at him. You admire the way that his cheekbones seem to have a natural highlight even in the dim, buttery light of the room. You take in the way that his curls fall loosely into his face, causing him to haphazardly push them away every few minutes. It’s a bit disturbing to you when you look over at him once and find yourself thinking about how cute the slope of his nose is.

You take it all in, but you don’t let yourself do anything else than that. You know that he has a girlfriend, and you’re not going to actively pursue a taken man. Besides, you’ve seen the girl he’s with, along with the girls that he’s been with and you’re pretty sure that you don’t compare, so even if he were single, you wouldn’t try anything.

Shaking the thought completely from your mind, you focus on the page in front of you and look over at Harry. “What if you just release Medicine? That'll be a number one for sure.”

He laughs, full on cackles at your words. He throws his head back and you can’t help but smile at the sound of his laugh. It takes him a minute for it to die down to giggles soft enough that he can get words out. “Never gonna happen, love.”

You greet your Pomeranian puppy, Daisy, as you walk through the door that night. She runs right towards you and trips on her paws. You chuckle at the memory of the first time that she did that. You were babysitting your niece and Daisy took a tumble and all you heard was an “Oopsie Daisy!” You hadn’t yet named her, so you decided that you could just go with Daisy, especially after she continued to trip all over the place. Picking her up, you make your way to the kitchen to feed her and top off her water bowl. As you’re sitting the bowl down, your phone dings with a notification from an unknown number.

Hey, it’s Harry. I hope it’s okay that I asked Jeff for your number.

You force the butterflies away the moment that they swarm your stomach; you can’t have feelings for a man that’s already in a relationship.

Hey, Harry! It’s completely fine, I don’t mind.

You’re a bit confused as to why Harry asked for your number, but you assume that it’s to ask some questions or tell you something about the song, so you let the thoughts leave your mind and you go back to petting Daisy until you get another text from him.

I was wondering if maybe you wanted to have dinner? At my place?

You’re taken aback for a moment at the suggestion of dinner at his place, but then you realize that it’s probably just a thank you. Chances are that his girlfriend will be there and it will be completely formal. Plus, it’s probably just at his place because if he goes out then he’ll get swarmed by paparazzi and he’d most likely want to avoid that as much as possible.

You mull it over for a few more seconds before deciding that you’ll have dinner with him. There’s no reason for you not to, really.

Yeah, I’d love to! Just let me know when and send me your address!

Locking your phone, you place it on the counter before making your way to the bathroom to take a relaxing shower and then head to bed.

When you step into Harry's house, you’re hit with the overwhelming scent of cashmere and vanilla, and it smells unmistakably like Harry. When he sees you, his eyes take you in, and then he’s smiling. “You look great!” he says before pulling you into a hug that you didn’t expect.

Your cheeks heat up slightly at his words. It’s not like you even tried, honestly. You just threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater before leaving the house. His comment makes you smile, though, so you choose not to say anything about it.

He happily leads you towards the kitchen and you can’t help but let some of his excitement rub off on you. When you step through the threshold to the room, you expect to see his girlfriend sitting there, but instead, you're met with an empty room. He must see you looking around because he speaks up. “Amelia’s in Paris for some fashion show she’s doing.”

“Oh, that’s cool! Which show is it? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” You run your hands along your sides nervously as you wait to see if you’ve crossed a line.

He gives you a small smile before shaking his head. “I would tell you if I knew. She hasn’t talked to me in a few weeks. It’s normally like this before shows. She gets even more distant than normal.” The both of you fall silent for a moment, but then he clears his throat and hands you a plate. “That doesn’t matter though, I wanted to thank you for helping me out today, so I made you pasta.” A warm smile graces your face as you take the plate from him. “You can head into the living room and make yourself comfortable if you want. I’m gonna get some wine. Would you like some?”

You nod and walk to the living room after he goes to get the wine. You do as he said and make yourself comfortable on his plush couch. It’s much softer than you expected it to be when you first saw it, and you’re pleasantly surprised.

Once he returns with two glasses and a bottle of wine, you quickly set your plate down on the wooden coffee table and help him set everything down so that he can go get his food and join you on the couch. You pour the wine into the glasses while he’s getting everything settled.

“Thank you for pouring those, I’m trying to make sure I have everything together, so I probably seem like a chicken with its head cut off.” His cheeks tint a slight pink at the admission and it makes you want to reach out and run your hand over his arm to reassure him that everything is alright, but that’s not something that you can do so you settle for trying to make him feel better with just your words.

“You’re fine, Harry. Honestly, this is a lot better than any other meal that I’ve probably ever had, so you’re doing great.” He gives a grateful smile at your words, and you can’t help but feel relieved that he’s no longer feeling as embarrassed. There’s something about him that makes you want to make sure he’s nothing but happy.

“So,” you say, trying to rid your mind of thoughts like that, “did you like what we came up with today?”

“Yeah, I really did, honestly.” He nods as he takes a bite of his pasta and chews. “I think you’re really talented. The things that you came up with today were absolutely phenomenal.”

You feel your cheeks heating up under his gaze and you try to hide that by taking a drink of your wine, but if his smirk has anything to say about how well you hid it, you failed epically.

“Thank you, I think you’re really talented, too. You’re probably one of the most talented people that I’ve worked with, to be honest. And you’re really nice about it as well.”

“You flatter me.”

“Take the compliment, Styles.” You playfully point your fork at him and he laughs lightly.

“Fine, thank you, Y/N.” You both fall into a comfortable silence before he clears his throat and starts up the conversation again. “Tell me about yourself, wanna know you better.”

There’s an awkward tension in the air as you start telling him about yourself, but as the night goes on, you get more and more relaxed around him. It feels like you’re talking to an old friend, not someone that you just met.

And maybe that’s why you invite him to come hang out at your place sometime soon. After all, you could use another friend.

You’re much less nervous sitting beside him on your couch than you were a week prior on his. After you spent that evening at his house talking to him and getting to know him a bit better, you feel much more relaxed and comfortable around him. It’s a great feeling, really, because now that the awkward tension is out of the way, you can focus on just getting to know him even better.

Harry had suggested takeout for dinner just so it was easy and so you didn’t have to dirty up the kitchen just because he was coming over. You reluctantly agreed, even though you felt a bit bad for not giving him a home cooked meal like he did for you, so now you’re sitting beside him with Chinese takeout containers on the glass coffee table in front of you.

It seems like Harry’s a lot more relaxed as well because since he’s walked through the door, he’s been a bit more touchy than normal. You’ve heard that he’s a pretty touchy person, so you don’t think much of it. You revel in it, really, because he’s a really good hugger. He’s also great at cuddling and hand holding and everything else. There’s a part of you that questions why he’s being so cuddly with you, but you remind yourself repeatedly that it’s just in a platonic way.

Once you’re both finished with your meals, he insists that he’ll clean up, so he takes all of the containers to the trash and washes the forks that were used (the restaurant forgot the plastic ones when it was delivered).

“Hey, Harry?” you call into the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?” The moment that the words leave your mouth, you know that they were worded wrong, so you rush to fix them. “I mean, I know what we’re doing, but why? Like why did you want to spend more time with me? We didn’t even talk really when we were writing the song, not more than anyone else, at least.”

He comes into the living room with a furrow between his brows. You refuse to make eye contact with him, so your gaze locks on the tea towel that he’s using to dry off his hands. “I just wanted to know you better, I don’t know really. There was just something about you that pulled me towards you and I couldn’t invite you to coffee or something like that as a thank you or a friend date because paparazzi would eat that up and I really don’t want to jeopardize your privacy like that. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way I should have probably eased more into it, that’s my bad—”

“It’s fine, Harry, I was just wondering,” you cut him off, finally meeting his eyes. “People don’t normally invite me to anything even for a thank you after our sessions, so I just wanted to know what caused you to do it.”

“I don’t see how anyone could pass up the opportunity to spend more time with you.” His words make you smile, and you’re suddenly aware of just how much he affects you. It’s a bit ridiculous, really. Nobody should make you care this much about them within three times of being around them.

Standing up off the couch, you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his waist and bury your head into his chest. He immediately returns the embrace and you both melt into it like it’s the only thing that either of you needs to be happy.

After a few moments like that, he pulls back slightly and pulls you with him back to the couch. He discards the hand towel onto the coffee table and sits down with his arms outstretched. You climb onto the couch next to him and let him hold you close. “What movie do you want to watch, doll?”

Your heart flutters at the pet name, but you ignore it and just shrug. “I dunno, I’m tired anyway. You pick.”

As soon as he starts the movie, you settle into him further and feel your eyes begin to get a bit heavier. The second that you yawn for the first time, he pulls you closer to him. "Do you wanna take a little nap?” he asks, smoothing your hair down.

You nod, letting your eyes slip closed as you cuddle into him. It’s not really that late. He came over at around four and it hasn't been that long, so you assume it’s good to take a nap. Your naps normally only last for an hour or two anyway, so you’ll be up before the movie is even over.

Right before you drift off into a peaceful slumber, you feel a light kiss being pressed to your forehead. If you were completely lucid, you’d say something about it, but your foggy brain accepts it fully.

When you wake up the next morning, you try to stretch out as you normally would, but there are a pair of arms wrapped around you tight enough to hold you in place. It takes you a moment to realize that Harry’s the one that’s wrapping you up in his warmth. Almost immediately, your eyes widen and a gasp leaves you. Both of you fell asleep on the couch the night prior, which means that he didn’t go home. He didn’t go home to his girlfriend.

“Harry,” you say a little louder than you anticipated as you shake him awake. He groans and pulls you closer to him, groaning for just a bit more sleep, but you continue to shake him. “Wake up, Harry, you need to go home.”

“You’re kicking me out already?” he jokes, smirking slightly. His voice is at least an octave deeper than normal, the gravel in his tone sending a shiver down your spine that absolutely should not be happening. None of this should be happening.

“You need to go home and figure out what to tell your girlfriend about why you didn’t come home last night, Harry.”

He chuckles lightly and waves you off, eyes still closed. “Don’t worry about her, love. She doesn’t live with me. Not really, she just comes over to keep up the image. She won’t care where I am.” Squeezing you to him once again, he lets a content smile form on his face. “Now settle back down and go back to sleep, I’m still tired.”

Reluctantly, you settle into him again, your head on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, and you allow the soothing rhythm of it to lull you back to sleep.

The next time you wake up, Harry’s not there. The scent of him is still overwhelming and the couch is still warm where he was laying, but he’s not holding you like he was.

Before you can call out to see if he’s still there, he comes walking into the living room with two cups of tea. “I didn’t know if you were more of a coffee or tea type of person, but you had both, so I just made us both tea.” He reaches out the mug to you, and you sit up and take the cup from him.

“Thank you.,” you mumble as you bring the mug to your mouth and take a sip. The warm liquid washes over your taste buds and down your throat and you can’t help but think that this may be the best tea that you’ve ever had. “This is really good.”

“Thanks, my mum taught me how to make it.” You smile at the way his dimples carve into his cheeks when he mentions his mom.

You make light conversation with him, finding it easy to talk about any and everything with him. There’s something about him that soothes the nerves that you’d usually have with someone that you hadn’t known for all that long. There’s just something different between the two of you.

As you’re finishing up your tea, he takes both his own mug as well as yours to the kitchen and washes them before putting them up. When he returns, he leans down and places a friendly, very friendly, kiss to your cheek. “I’ve gotta go, love. Need to get into the studio, yeah?”

You nod, standing up to envelop him in a hug before watching him leave. For some reason, you find yourself longing for him to turn around and walk right back through the door the second that he closes it behind him. You quickly scold yourself for feeling this way, he has a girlfriend, before getting up to go take a shower and get ready for the day.

Three months later, you and Harry are inseparable. Throughout the time that you’ve known each other, you’ve cried in his arms, he’s screamed at the top of his lungs to get his anger out when something with the label isn’t going right, you’ve fallen asleep cuddled into him, and he’s taught you how to cook food that isn’t frozen.

Harry quickly became your best friend, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s the one person in your life that you know you can count on no matter what. He’s also the only person that knows everything about you, just like you know everything about him. Over the past few months, you’ve learned all about him, and it’s just made you fall a bit harder for him every time you think about it.

You know it’s wrong, you do. You shouldn’t have feelings for your best friend, who also happens to have a girlfriend. From what he’s told you, though, she’s not really his girlfriend anymore. Sure, they’re technically together, but she never talks to him unless she needs something or they have to go out to keep up appearances. There used to be something between the two of them, but that quickly changed when things with both of their careers began to pick up. Now it’s like he’s in a relationship with someone that doesn’t even want him.

It doesn’t matter if he’s in a relationship with someone that doesn’t really want him, you can’t be the reason that someone gets their heart broken, you think to yourself for umpteenth time today.

Sighing, you shake yourself from your thoughts and hop off the counter to come stand next to him as he sautés the asparagus. You lean your head on his arm once you come to a stop beside him, and he immediately lifts the arm and pulls you closer to him. You hum contentedly as you inhale the scent of his cologne. The hints of vanilla and sandalwood make your head spin in the most delightful way as you revel in the feeling of being completely enveloped by him.

After a few moments, you look up at him and watch the way that his jaw flexes every so often while he’s concentrating on cooking the asparagus just right. In reality, though, he’s just concentrating on not looking at you because he knows if he does, he’ll end up doing something that he may come to regret.

He doesn’t keep his eyes off of you for long, though, because as soon as he removes the pan from the heat and scoops the asparagus onto its plate, he’s turning slightly so that he can place his hands on your hips and pull you closer.

Your breath catches in your throat as you peer up into his sea glass green eyes and try to figure out what he’s thinking. Before you can say anything, he’s leaning closer to you and there’s a part of you that wants to tell him to stop, to tell him that this is wrong. The bigger part of you, however, is so caught up in the way that his breath feels fanning over your face that you couldn’t even fathom telling him no right now. He pauses for just a second when his nose is rubbing against yours and your breaths mixing together. You’re just about to make a move when he presses his lips to yours and pushes you back until you’re pressed against the counter. The kiss is eager, sloppy, needy. He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and you immediately open up for him, letting his tongue dance with yours.

Too soon, you have to pull away to breathe, and Harry mistakes it for you regretting it by the way that you harshly pull your face back. He rubs a hand over his face, “I’m so sorry. Fuck, that was so wrong of me, I don’t know what I was thinking I just don’t know how to act when I’m around you. I should have asked, I shouldn’t have done it at all really. I’m so sorry.”

You inhale sharply before chuckling. “Don’t apologize, H. I didn’t stop you. Fuck, I wouldn’t have stopped you, I just needed to breathe, but are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes. God, yes. I’ve wanted this since the moment you fell asleep in my arms. Probably before that.” With that, you place your hands on either side of his face and pull him closer to you, throwing all caution to the wind as his lips connect with yours.

You pull away from Harry, disconnecting your lips from his. He whines low in his throat as he immediately chases after your lips. You just giggle and shake your head no as he pouts. “We have to talk about what’s going to happen, Harry, “ you reason, and he just sighs as he sits up.

“I’ll try to find a way to get out of this relationship as soon as possible, okay?” You nod as you take in the words that he’s saying, ensuring that you understand exactly what the plan is. “I’ll have to find a nice way to do it so that nothing blows up in my face, but I will get out of this. And then after a few months, we can go public.” He brings his hand to your face and caresses the skin with the pad of his thumb. “We just have to keep it under wraps until then.”

You nod, taking in what he’s saying. “That sounds good. How fast do you think you can get out of this?”

“A month, tops,” he promises, sealing it with a sweet kiss to your lips that makes every doubt leave your mind.

That conversation happened almost six months ago, and Harry’s still with Amelia. You try to pretend that it doesn’t bother you, but it does. He told you that he was going to do something and he hasn’t. He promised. You know that you’re supposed to be patient, but quite frankly, you’re tired of sharing him with someone else. You’re tired of him telling you that he loves you so much right before he goes back to her.

So you decide that you’re done with it. You don’t want to be the one that’s hidden anymore. He swears that he loves you, so it’s time for him to act on it. If you were in his shoes, you would have left your partner as soon as you had feelings for Harry. You would have chosen Harry because you’re truly, madly, deeply in love with him. Which raises the question of whether or not he feels the same. Is he lying about that, too?

You shake that idea out of your head as soon as it enters. Of course he loves me, you tell yourself as he lets himself in the door. You don’t move from your spot at the kitchen table when you hear him make his way to you; you just sit there and wait for him to approach you. You know that as soon as he sees your face, he’s going to know that something’s up, and as much as you know it has to happen, you’d do just about anything to put off this conversation for a few more seconds.

This entire thing could blow up in your face, and if that’s the outcome then you want to savor the last few fleeting moments of your life with Harry.

You feel him rest his hands on your shoulder and lean down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Hey, baby.” He comes to sit next to you and you just give a weak greeting in return.

“What’s wrong?” You glance up at him briefly and see the way that his eyebrows are knitted together in concern.

“We have to talk,” you mumble, trying to get the words out without sounding weak. You have to come across strong or there’s no chance of anything going right tonight.

“Okay… what do we have to talk about?” he asks, voice shaky as he prepares himself for the worst.

“It’s been almost half a year, Harry,” you breathe, trying your best to meet his gaze to show him that you mean every word that you’re saying. “I want more than I have, and you promised that I wouldn’t have to share you for more than a month.”

“I know, but I don’t want everything to blow up in my face,” he tries, making yet another excuse that you don’t have the time, nor the patience, to hear.

“Nothing’s going to blow up in your face, Harry!” you say, slightly louder than you previously were. Pushing yourself to stand from your chair, you make your way over to the counter to put a bit of space between the two of you. “Nobody knows about me! The worst thing that happens is that you get blamed for the breakup, but who cares? Is that really more important than being with just me?”

He’s silent, and you have to stop yourself from crying. His silence is never a good thing. He just looks down at the table and rubs his hands through his hair while you try your best to steady your breathing.

“I want more than this, Harry,” you repeat. “I want more than two nights a week when I can call you mine. Sure, we’re technically together, you’re technically mine, but you’re hers too.” The thought alone makes your voice catch in your throat and you have to clear it before continuing. “You say that I’m the one that you want, but who’s the one who can be seen in public with you? Who’s the one that you can show off? Who’s the one that will be going on tour with him? Who’s the one that you’re going to look into the crowd and meet eyes with as you have that stupid heart stealing smile on your face?” He’s silent still and you scoff. He can’t even look at you. “Her. All of those things are her, they’re not me.”

He stands after a moment and reaches out for you, but you know that this isn’t something that can be fixed with a hug and a few light kisses, so you hold up a hand to stop him and say the words you know are either going to make or break your relationship. “I love you Harry, and I know you love me, too. But if you don’t love me enough to choose me, then I need you to go.”

Knowing that he can’t give you what you need, he hangs his head low and holds the tears back as he walks out your door without so much as a glance back at you.

#playlistficchallenge #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot

463 notes · View notes

oliviajdjarin · 3 years

Text

Chapter 15: A Clan of Three

Warnings: really bad depression and mourning in the beginning, mentions of large amounts of death and violence, and injury.

Author’s Note: Almost to the end! I hope you enjoy! I also went a bit off canon for this one, so I hope that’s ok!

(Gif gotten from fuckyeahgrogu)

Your walk down in the sewers was….. indescribable.

You felt like the opposite of a ghost. You weren’t a soul roaming the sewers, you were just a body. Only the physical means of you survived this long, and the remaining piece of your soul was left behind with your Mandalorian.

So much so, that you didn’t even know where you were going. You presumed a way out was the end goal, but you didn’t even think about it. You stared at the floor for what felt like hours, sniffling and trying to find your breath.

You hadn’t felt like this before. Not even when Mando figured out who you were…. because he was there.

You didn’t care if he was bloodied, bruised, half dead, or had a physical ailment for the rest of his life that forced you and only you to carry him for the rest of your days….. you just wanted him here.

The kid seemed to be having the same feelings of numbness and shock that you did. His emotions were completely blocked from you and you could tell he didn’t want you to know what he was actually thinking. You couldn’t blame him, your walls reached their peak once more when you felt Mando squeeze your hand one final time.

How did you even get here? Weren’t you trained to always put the mission first? Why did all of your rational and strategic thoughts go out the window as soon as Mando ate with you the first time?

You wanted to go back in time and tell yourself to look at him for even a second longer. Ask him a stupid question one more time. Just one glimpse would tie you over enough to at least speak again.

“I uh… I made the IG promise to bring him,” Cara said at one point, but you didn’t even react.

You were grateful for her trying to lift you up when mere minutes ago she thought you were the reason everything went wrong, but it felt as if it wasn’t even worth it to hope that Mando was alive. Not when there was a chance he could be dead.

You thought about turning back one too many times, but you couldn’t betray Mando like that.

He asked for a warrior’s death… and he got one.

The child started acting funny and crying in your arms, and you tried to sooth him.

“It’s ok little guy,” you whispered into his ear, trying to keep your burning throat at bay. “We have to get out of here, ok?”

But it was no use. The kid wouldn’t stand still.

You almost let your frustration with him get the better of you, until you felt it.

The tiniest, faintest tingle crawling up your spine, causing your brain to echo danger throughout the rest of your body.

Something’s coming.

You spun around, eyes widening as you scanned your surroundings. Your eyes were wide and your heartbeat quickened.

You didn’t know if you had another fight in you.

Cara saw your quick movement and spun around as well, using her flashlight to illuminate the tunnel.

“What is it?” Karga asked, and you slowly but surely heard footsteps approaching.

You wiped your tear stained face and took your longspear from its holder on your back.

Mando wasn’t here. You had to take care of the child, and dying in a sewer underneath an Empire base wasn’t the way you wanted to go.

The form of IG-11 appeared through the faint shine of Cara’s light, and you expected to be disappointed.

You expected him to apologize for your loss and be on his way.

But, a limping form of shiny metal was right beside him, and you felt yourself enter your body once more.

The feeling was almost euphoric. If this was the only blessing the universe could give you in your whole life, you would be a damn happy woman.

Cara instantly ran to him to help him stay up, but your shock and joy only allowed your body to drop your longspear and stay frozen in place.

The child squealed slightly in your arms, and that was the noise that made it real.

This was real. He was here.

Not even a second after Cara helped prop him up did you run to his side, slightly slowing down once you got to him, and collide with his chest.

You felt the tears of pure joy start exiting your eyes, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the small puff of air Mando released when your chests collided.

“Easy,” he chucked out, and you laughed into his armored neck, only squeezing tighter. He rubbed your back with his free arm as you sobbed happily into his neck, and the child tapped Mando’s chest slightly with happy giggles.

You finally pulled away to place your hand on the side of his visor, framing the helmet, and looked into his eyes.

You were stuck in an Emperial sewer, beaten and bruised, with virtually no way out in sight….

…but this wasn’t the last time you would look into his eyes, and that was enough.

“Sorry to.. break up the reunion… but we are kinda stuck,” Karga finally stated, and you let out a breathy laugh with Mando following with one as well.

You kissed his cheek, and then lifted his arm over your shoulders while your free arm reached around his back to help Cara move him down the hallways.

It felt good to finally help Mando up, after the many times he had helped you. Even in the horrible circumstances you were in, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Do you know which way to go?” Cara asked Mando, referring to the coverts he had lived in before.

“No, I don’t know these tunnels,” Mando admitted, the child still managing to giggle in your arms.

“If we follow the smell of sulfur, it will lead us to the lava river,” Karga said.

“The Imps will catch us before we make the ship,” Mando said, and you couldn’t help but agree.

“We need the Mandalorians to escort us to safety.”

You could tell Mando was using his helmet to search for tracks, and you could feel his body becoming stronger. So much so, that he started standing and walking on his own.

You felt more relieved than you could even explain. Your “partner in crime” of sorts was back by your side, and it felt damn good.

The group was moving faster, until Mando stopped abruptly after turning down a corridor.

A huge pile of Mandalorian armor and helmets was laying on the floor in front of Mando, and he dropped to his knees.

You knew what this meant…. the Empire had taken an entire covert of Mandalorians down. This was Mando’s family, and the Empire had plucked them off their list as if they were nothing.

“We should go,” Cara said, trying to be gentle for Mando’s sake.

“You go. Leave the ship. I can’t leave it this way,” he said, and the familiar pain in his voice was returning.

You bowed your head slightly, trying to show respect to the warriors in the little time you had to stay there. You had fought Mandalorians before, and they were some of the fiercest people you had ever met. They deserved better than this.

“Did you know about this?” Mando asked Karga, and you could hear the venom returning to his voice.

“Is this the work of your bounty hunters?” Mando said, getting more into Karga’s face. The anger in Mando was strong and dangerous. If the group started fighting each other, there was no way any of you were making it out alive.

“It was not his fault,” a voice said from behind you, and a woman Mandalorian appeared from the shadows.

She was taller, but lean and built. She looked strong and tough, but you could feel her mourning as well.

“We knew what would could happen if we left this place. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter,” she said, referring to when the covert revealed themselves to save Mando.

He had very briefly explained how he got the kid off of this planet before, but you didn’t realize an entire covert of Mandalorians revealed themselves. You were surprised the Empire didn’t wipe them out sooner.

“Did any survive?” he asked the woman.

“I hope so. Some may have escaped off world,” she responded.

Mando took a moment to think, before looking up at her and saying, “come with us.”

“No,” she said instantly. “I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains.”

She began to gather up pieces of armor from the pile and holding them above large blue flames.

“Show me whose safety deemed such destruction,” she asked, and everyone turned to the child in your arms.

“This is the one,” Mando said, gesturing to the now sleeping child.

You tried to keep your face neutral, looking down at the child, but all the eyes on him scared you. This woman was in deep grief, you could feel it, and that made people react in very rash ways. If she felt that Mando was at fault for the pain she had….

“This is the one that you hunted, then saved?” she asked, and the confusion in her voice was slightly comical.

“Yes,” Mando responded. “The one that saved me as well.”

“It looks helpless,” she said.

“It is injured, but not helpless,” Mando responded. “We think he has the powers of a Jedi.”

“Ah, yes, Jedi,” the woman responded, and your heart tightened with fear. If she knew about Jedi, then she had to know what you once were.

“The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore the Great and the Jedi.”

“Are they an enemy to us?” Mando asked cautiously, and you could feel the protective emotions he felt towards his creed and his people.

“No,” she said. “Its kind were enemies, but this individual is not.”

She looked at the child once more. “It is a foundling. By Creed, it is in your care.”

Mando tightened, as did you.

“You have no choice. You must reunite it with its own kind.”

“Where,” Mando asked.

“This you must determine.”

“You expect me to search the galaxy for the home of this creature and deliver it to enemy sorcerers?” he asked, and you couldn’t help the faint grin on your face at his bluntness.

“Until that time, or it comes of age, it is in your care,” the woman said.

“You are as it’s father,” she said, and your eyes widened.

Mando was a father?

If Mando was the kid’s father….. what does that make you?

“And you,” the woman says, looking at you straight on. Your head popped up to meet her gaze, trying to hide the timidity and wonder in your eyes.

“You have helped?” she asks, and you glance at Mando with your eyes for less than a second before meeting the woman’s gaze again.

“Yes,” he responded for you, registering that you were asking for his help. Normally, you didn’t like when people talked for you, but this was Mando’s department, and you didn’t want to speak incorrectly for him.

“She keeps the child safe, same as I do,” Mando says, looking at the woman with confidence.

You grin slightly, looking at the child once more.

“Well then… if you so choose… you are a clan of three,” the woman says, and your eyes snap back to Mando, who is already looking at you.

You had heard about the Mandalorian clans. They treated each other like family, and fought till the death for each other. It had been something you had never had before, but if you were going to do it with anyone, it would be with Mando.

This thought boosted your confidence, and you gave Mando a slight nod of your head, showing that you want this. You want him.

Mando nods back, and says, “Yes. If that is possible.”

You feel the blush creep up your face, and even if you were in a dark and shadowy room, everyone could see it.

You were in his clan. His family. You wanted to jump for joy and squeeze into Mando’s arms once more.

“You have earned your signet,” the woman said, affixing the mudhorn signet to Mando’s right arm.

“You are a clan of three.”

You felt the happy tears creep up again, but you blinked them away. Trying not to ruin the moment.

“Thank you,” Mando stated. “I will wear this with honor.”

You were convinced you had never been happier. The day started with Kuiil dying, fighting for your life, and Mando almost dying, but you made it through. You made it to right here.

You bowed slightly to the woman.

“Thank you,” you said. “I am honored.”

“The honor is mine,” she says to you.

You smiled up at her, enjoying the butterflies in your tummy and the happiness in your eyes.

You had everything you ever wanted… now, you just needed to get out.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife @bookloverfilmoholic

#din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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imagineimaginez · 3 years

Text

Being pregnant was one of the best things to happen to you and Gray. His biggest life dream was finally happening before his eyes and he couldn’t be more grateful for it all. Although you were just as grateful it was hard to really enjoy the full bliss of being pregnant due to the constant nausea and pains you experienced almost daily all day long.

It really hurt Gray to see you constantly in pain. It was bittersweet seeing the woman he loves carry their child. Although he was so happy it killed him to see you in so much pain.

Waking up you instantly felt massive pain shoot through your back and you knew it was a start to another rough day. You woke up with Grayson not by your side however you knew he either was working out or went to go walk the dogs so you went to the kitchen grabbed a water and decided to take a hot shower hoping it could relieve some of the nausea and back pain. While in the shower you heard Gray enter the room. "Hi baby, how are you feeling today, any better?" "No not really my back is killing me and i’m nauseous as always.” Before you knew it Gray was behind you in the shower rubbing your back trying to relieve any pain he could. He rubbed your belly, massaged your scalp and temples and even bathed you. Leaving the shower you did feel a little better. "Did you eat breakfast yet baby?" Gray asks as he wraps his towel around himself. "No i was too nauseous but i’m starving now." “Anything you and bebe are craving that I can make or do you want to go somewhere?" he says as he kisses your belly. "Honestly i’m not really sure i’m just hungry you say chuckling." You both do your skin care routines and brush your teeth. Gray got ready fairly quick while you take your time seeming to actually have the energy to do some light make up today. You throw on a simple sun dress which is perfect for the weather and comfortable considering you were already 5 months pregnant and fairly large already.

Getting in the car with Gray you both decide to stop at one of your favorite vegan cafes and grab a late breakfast. You both sat enjoyed the food and sat and discussed baby shower plans and also plans for the baby’s room. Gray was already in the process of building everything the baby needed furniture wise himself. From the crib, changing table and even your rocking chair. He was determined to do it all.

After breakfast Gray decided it would be nice to walk on the beach for a few and enjoy the scenery considering you were feeling the best you could feel. Walking along the beach, taking in the ocean air and breeze you tried your best to enjoy these moments with Grayson because soon you would have an extra addition and things would be changed forever. Finding yourself after awhile getting tired you decided to sit down on the sand and relax. Gray sat next to you talking to stomach trying to get the baby to kick. "Hi baby, it’s daddy here, mommy and i are having a fun day outside so thank you for being good to her and letting her have some fun. I hope you enjoyed the yummy food from earlier trust me there’s gonna be a lot of it when you come out soon. whatever you want daddy can cook it for you, mommy on the other hand not so much." You laugh giving him a little tap on the arm. "I’m so happy you’re feeling good today mama you deserve good days. It makes me so sad to see you in pain I wish we could switch places" he said rubbing your belly. "Thanks baby, I just want to meet our little one already but please don’t think i’m going to do this again anytime soon" you say giggling. “Ok ok that’s fair" he says kissing your belly, but i can’t lie you look gorgeous carrying our baby i don’t know how i got so fucking lucky sheeeesh.”

Driving home you both listened to nothing but grays favorite kid cudi songs, he was going to try everything in his power to make sure his child came out the womb knowing every single song! Pulling up to your house you saw a car there you’ve never seen before. "Babe who’s here?" “it’s a surprise now if you could just please close your eyes and i will direct you m'lady." "Ok but please don’t let me fall or slip i’m scared" you say laughing. Gray takes you out the car carefully and instead of walking you he whisks you off your feet and carries you to the door. You literally could not stop laughing. He really was the most extra yet best husband you could’ve ever asked for. Getting in the house all you could smell was a small hint of lavender and heard relaxing music. Uncovering your eyes you saw two massage tables and two ladies greeting you. "ummm babe what is all this???!" Gray grabs your hands "As I said earlier seeing how much this pregnancy has affected you has hurt me a lot, and i’m so grateful to you for choosing to go through this to give us a family. Every day I wake up inspired and amazed by you. You’re literally superwoman even on the days you don’t feel like it, so I wanted to do a small token of my appreciation to help you relax and feel loved."

You were literally in tears, Gray just hugged you until you stopped crying. You were so thankful to have someone as extra and amazing as Grayson. He literally made every struggle so worth it. You were truly blessed both you and your baby <3

I know it’s been such a long time since posting anything i just had no ideas :( but plz feel free to message me with requests they’re always open!!!!

#grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan #dolan twin blurb #ethan dolan imagine #dolan twin imagine #grayson x reader

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hotpinkhoshi · 3 years

Text

kiss it better | five

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: tw for death, death of a parent, reference to drug addiction

word count: 4.5k

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

a/n: hi babies thank you for your patience, i know it’s been many many months since i’ve updated! the last time i posted for kib was all the way back in may, which is crazy, i know. but life has been weird and it’s been difficult for me to find the motivation to write. it’s slowly coming back for me and i’m so glad you guys have stuck around with me even if i haven’t been consistent. i’m more grateful than you know!

✩ index here ✩

“She did what?” Dahyun asked, her bite of gimbap nearly falling right out of her mouth.

Youngjae threw his head back and broke into laughter entirely at Mark’s expense.

Mark ran his tongue over his teeth and refused to look up at his friends, focusing awfully hard on the sketch he’d been working on in between appointments. He quickly realized that they had absolutely no sympathy for him.

“Yeah.”

It had been two weeks already since that night, and Mark was just now feeling comfortable enough to spill what had happened after he took you home. He liked to take his own time to process his thoughts before he revealed them to others, and quite frankly, he hadn’t even wanted to tell anyone. But he was starting to think maybe he needed an outside perspective.

“She has guts,” Youngjae said, after finally pulling himself upright in his chair. “Was it good?”

“Dude,” Mark warned, far from amused.

Dahyun cut in. “It’s a good enough question. From what I’ve seen, you guys have some intense sexual tension. If the kiss was hot, maybe it’s worth exploring.”

“We don’t have sexual tension,” Mark defended.

Youngjae snorted.

“Sure. But, let’s say if you did, and the kiss was good…” Dahyun trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows.

Groaning, Mark tapped the end of his pencil against the desk. He glanced up at the wall, his eyes naturally drawn to the photo of your shoulder, of the tattoo he’d designed and permanently inked onto your skin. It wasn’t the only photo he had pinned up of his previous work, but it was the one he looked at the most.

“She’s a kid,” he said, little to no conviction in his voice.

But you weren’t a kid. Mark knew in every way, you were an adult. Even mentally, emotionally, you seemed more mature than he felt most days. Packing up your belongings because you refused to live a life you weren’t satisfied with? He couldn’t imagine anything more grown up than that.

“Mark,” Youngjae’s tone was firm, serious this time. “It’s not the worst thing in the world if you have chemistry with someone. I know it may not be the most convenient girl for you, but… you’ve been by yourself for a long time. You can’t tell me you aren’t lonely.”

He hadn’t thought he was lonely until you came into his life. He had been fine, so fine, living on his own. Waking up alone, eating dinner alone, focusing on his work and living one day to the next.

But now, he looked forward to the sound of your keys in the door when you got home from your evening shift. He bought your favorite brand of orange juice instead of his. He didn’t mind watching outlandish and obviously fake reality shows if it meant that he got to hear your commentary along with it. More than anything, he’d gotten used to the way you made him feel. In the simplest of terms, he was happy.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mark said. “I already fucked it up.”

Dahyun narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”

He rubbed some of the tension out of his forehead, relaying the conversation he’d had with Taehyung that night to his friends. The exchange wasn’t longer than a few minutes, but it was long enough for Mark to potentially ruin everything you’d built for yourself in the last couple of months.

“I didn’t tell him everything - I couldn’t do that. But I told him I’d seen her in the city, that I thought maybe she worked in one of the restaurants near the shop…” A knot of guilt coiled in his stomach. “Fuck.”

He’d just wanted to do the right thing. You were young, you couldn’t see that your parents cared about you. Taehyung cared about you. They deserved to know where you were, especially after everything they had done for him. He could at least point them in the right direction.

“Well, shit,” Youngjae offered, a sympathetic frown on his face.

“I fucked her over, and I haven’t been able to look her in the eye since. We’ve just avoided each other for the last two weeks and I-” Mark heaved a breath, leaning back in his chair. “I hate it.”

He missed you. Even if he couldn’t say it out loud.

“I have an idea,” Dahyun said, her whole body perking up. “Don’t look at me like that, sometimes I have good ideas. Why don’t you invite her along for Yugyeom’s camping trip?”

“You mean the couple thing?”

Dahyun sighed. “It’s not a couple thing. It’s just… everyone there is part of a couple. Anyway, it might be a good way to make things less awkward.”

Mark blinked a few times, waiting for Dahyun to say ‘just kidding’ because it was an absolutely ridiculous idea. “What? How would that make things any less awkward?”

She shrugged. “I mean, it’s a great opportunity to break the tension. If you know what I mean.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Mark scowled.

You spent your entire shift thinking about Mark. Thinking about how you had completely messed up your relationship, and trying to figure out how to fix it all. It had been a stupid, drunken mistake, and you would take it back in a heartbeat if you could.

The past two weeks had been torture, tiptoeing around and trying your hardest to avoid him. You’d picked up extra shifts almost every day, figuring that if you were working, at least you didn’t have to pretend like everything was normal.

All you wanted was to come home, curl up on the couch with Milo and watch your favorite ridiculous TV shows while Mark snickered next to you, entertained by the disgustingly wealthy families on the screen no matter how much he pretended to hate it. You wanted to be able to lean into him, feel the body heat radiating off of him when his shoulder brushed yours.

You missed Mark. Even if you couldn’t say it out loud.

After much debating, you decided that the best way to apologize started with food. And you owed him, anyway, after he opened his home to you and let you stay there free of charge. A dinner was the least you could do.

You could tell once you walked into Paradise Tattoo just before closing time that Mark hadn’t been expecting you in the slightest. He was at the desk, going over papers with Dahyun, when the bell dinged to signal your entrance.

In his ripped jeans and muscle tee, all of his tattoos were on display for you, even the large quote he had inked onto his ribcage. You gulped and shoved your feelings down. That would only make things worse.

“Hi,” you said, greeting both Mark and Dahyun.

“Hey.” Mark scratched his head and straightened his posture. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” you started, wringing your hands in front of you. “I wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner? On me. I owe you, anyway.”

Dahyun piped up, a mischievous smirk on her lips, “That’s a great idea. Mark was just talking about how hungry he was.

Mark cleared his throat and shot his co-worker what looked suspiciously like a glare. “No, I’m fine. You really don’t have to-”

“Come on,” you said, hiding a smile. “How about burgers? There’s a good place around the corner. It won’t kill you to let me pay, will it?”

You could see Mark weigh his options as he chewed his lip. Either end up hungry, settling for some quick frozen food later on, or bite the bullet and let you pay for his dinner. You knew it would hurt his pride to do so, but you wouldn’t back down. It was more than just the free room and board that you wanted to make up for.

“Alright,” he finally agreed. “Let me grab my stuff.”

It only took less than ten minutes for you to walk down to the burger place, but it felt like an hour as awkward silence hung around the two of you. It wasn’t until you were both seated at a corner booth inside the restaurant that you finally spoke up.

“Listen, Mark,” you said, looking up from the packet of ketchup you’d been nervously squishing between your fingers. “About that night…”

“No, you don’t-” Mark was quick to interrupt, but you held your hand up.

“Just let me, okay?” You sighed.

You’d rehearsed these words countless times in the bathroom mirror, and right now it felt like they were slipping right out of your fingers. Where were you supposed to start? With the kiss, straight away? Or getting so drunk that you’d needed to be taken care of in the first place?

“I’m just… really sorry. I was stupid to drink that much and it’s not your job to watch after me. I should be able to take care of myself.”

Mark stopped you again. “I didn’t mind taking care of you.”

“But it’s not your job, Mark. I’m an adult, and you’re letting me stay with you and asking for nothing in return. The least I could do is make it easy on you.”

“Y/N, if you could have seen me at your age, you wouldn’t feel so bad. We all get drunk and stupid sometimes,” Mark said with a shrug. It almost relieved some of your guilt until you remembered the kiss in the bathroom.

“Well...” You shook your head and looked back down at your hands. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him for this one. “I really shouldn’t have ki-”

“Hi! My name’s Lana, I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you two something to drink while you look over the menus?”

A cheerful brunette appeared in front of you, a pen behind her ear and a wide grin plastered on her face. You glanced at Mark, then up at your waitress, not sure if you were grateful for the interruption or not.

“Um, can I just have a water?” you asked, voice small and uncomfortable in your throat.

“Same for me,” Mark agreed.

“Perfect! Let me know if you have any questions about the menu!”

You let out a long breath before you were able to look at Mark again. He was biting his cheek, his lips all twisted and holding back a laugh.

“What?” you asked.

“Her timing,” Mark got out, just as he let go of his laughter, throwing his head back.

To your own surprise, you found yourself shaking with laughter as well. Either from Mark’s contagious laugh giggle or the simple ridiculousness of the situation. Here you were, in a burger restaurant, apologizing to your older brother’s best friend for kissing him while you were heavily intoxicated.

You covered your face with your hands to suppress your own laughter, letting your back slump against the cushions of the booth. It all came to you then, just how silly you’d been the last two weeks.

“I am sorry, though,” you said, after you both settled down.

Mark’s eyes glinted as he watched you from across the table, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. “It’s alright. I mean it. Last time I was that drunk, I’m pretty sure I ran around the block in my underwear singing the Canadian national anthem.”

You giggled again at the mental image. “What? How did you even-”

“No idea. It’s like I was possessed by a drunk Canadian mischief demon.”

It was strange to imagine Mark and Taehyung in their teen years, since you’d been so young at the time, you could barely remember anything from that time of your life. You remembered Taehyung wearing the same pair of purple skinny jeans for three months because a girl at school had told him she liked them.

You remembered Taehyung letting you sit in the basement in your favorite cushioned chair while he and Mark played video games on the big screen. It had been your favorite place to read then, tuning out the rambunctious cries of defeat while you got lost in other worlds.

“So we’re okay, then?” you asked, after Lana had come back to take your order and left once more.

Mark nodded, a genuine smile on his lips. “We’re okay.”

“Maybe it’s weird, but…” you began, staring down at the wrapped silverware on the table instead of looking Mark in the eye. “Even though I grew up seeing you as Taehyung’s friend, that feels like a lifetime ago. And now I just kind of see you as… my friend. Like somebody I can trust.”

When you finally looked up at Mark, his expression was unreadable. His bottom lip was between his teeth, but his eyes looked somewhat uncomfortable. You worried for a second that you’d crossed a line.

“I owe a lot to your family,” Mark said after another long moment passed.

Even though you didn’t remember much about Mark from your childhood years, you knew his upbringing had been rough. His parents had been addicts, the kind that never should’ve been together, let alone bring a child into the world.

You’d never met his mom, but your own mother had made enough snide comments about her after Mark had gone home for you to understand just what kind of person she was.

“One of those low life, worthless drug addicts. Sleeping around with anyone that can help her out, if you know what I mean. Never should’ve been a mother.”

She had a funny way of showing her compassion sometimes.

Taehyung brought him over once after school and your mother had gotten one look at his threadbare clothes and hollow cheeks and taken him in as her new project. At first, he ate dinner with your family almost every night, and then she started making Taehyung pass over his any extra clothes he’d gotten that didn’t fit properly or that he simply didn’t like.

Mark did owe a lot to your family.

You didn’t know what to say. You’d been so young there was no way you could take credit for anything your parents had done for Mark, but still, you itched to comfort him. Even now, with the unsaid words lingering in the air, you sensed that he had never been able to fully open up to anybody. Though you didn’t deserve it, you wanted to be the first.

“Your mom,” you found yourself saying. “Is she…?”

Mark shook his head. “She’s gone. Passed away a couple years ago.”

Your face fell. If anything, you had expected her to have taken off for good or maybe gotten into some trouble she couldn’t get herself out of, but you hadn’t expected her to be gone.

“Oh, god, Mark. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

To your surprise, he only lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I hadn’t seen her in a long time before that. Maybe two, three years. Then my aunt showed up on my doorstep with a box of her things and told me she OD’d in a gas station parking lot a week before.”

His voice wavered only slightly, but enough to tell you he cared more than he let on. You could only imagine how painful it would be to hear of your own mother’s passing a week after the fact.

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

Mark shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s weird,” he said, tongue running over his lower lip as he paused. “I’d stopped seeing her as my mother so long ago that… I felt like I’d already mourned her death. Fuck, that sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“No,” you answered as you reached across the table, fingers laying across the back of Mark’s hand. “It doesn’t. At all.”

A moment passed between the two of you. You caught Mark’s eyes glancing down at your hand resting on his skin, but he made no move to avoid your touch.

“I never even went through her things. The box is just sitting at the back of my bedroom closet collecting dust.”

“Do you want to go through her things?” you asked.

Mark paused, chewing at the inside of his lip before he answered. “I don’t know.”

You nodded, somehow understanding exactly what he meant. Though you hadn’t gone through the same thing, you were familiar with avoiding a potentially painful and uncomfortable situation by simply pretending it didn’t exist. Hence why you had four unopened voicemails from your brother and parents.

You found yourself stroking the back of Mark’s hand with your thumb. It didn’t feel wrong to touch him like this, even though maybe it should have. All you wanted was to bring him a shred of the comfort he had deserved to have for much longer than you’d known him.

“Alrighty, and here we’ve got the bacon cheeseburger and sweet potato fries for the lady,” Lana exclaimed, immediately bursting your bubble as she returned to your table with your food balanced on a tray. You were quick to snatch your hand from Mark’s. “And a BBQ cheddar burger with curly fries for the handsome man.”

You didn’t miss the way Lana winked as she placed Mark’s food in front of him. This girl was not getting a generous tip from you, that was for sure.

“I told you, after that depressing dinner conversation, we need to do something fun,” you told Mark as you carried your skincare basket out from the bathroom into the living room.

“And this is fun for who?”

You threw him a playful glance and plopped down onto the floor in front of the couch on your knees, setting your basket on the cushion and sifting through it.

“Both of us. Just trust me.”

Catching the skeptic look on Mark’s face, you could only grin to yourself as you pulled out a tube of your favorite clay mask. He didn’t know just how relaxing a good face mask could be, but you were willing to show him.

“I’ll even go first,” you told him.

Mark lifted his feet to prop them up on the coffee table as Milo curled up like a tiny ball of cotton on his lap. You’d both changed out of your work clothes into comfy clothes, and you couldn’t help noticing how warm Mark looked in his white joggers and oversized black hoodie. You wouldn’t mind snuggling up into that space between his side and the couch cushion…

You sighed and shook your head, attempting to clear the less-than-platonic thoughts from your mind. If you were going to make this friendship work, you would need to stop thinking about him like that. Immediately.

“Can I ask you something?” Mark said after a beat of silence as you popped open the cap to your mask.

“Hm?” you asked, propping your personal sized makeup mirror on the couch so that you could see yourself while you applied your mask.

“Yugyeom’s family has a yearly pass to this campground, and every year he does this weekend camping trip…” he trailed off for a moment and you forced yourself not to react, instead focusing on applying your charcoal mask to your cheeks. “This year, it somehow ended up as a couple thing, so Dahyun suggested I invited a friend along. So…”

Lifting your eyes from your own reflection, you watched as Mark struggled to finish his thought.

“So…” you said, helping him along. “Are you asking me to come with you?”

Immediately, a neon flashing red alarm screeched in your mind. ‘This is a terrible idea! You must say no!’ it screamed.

“Only if you want to. I mean, it’s a cool place. Their lot is right by this swimming hole and there’s a fire pit, so we normally bring a ton of booze and cook our own food over the fire…”

Mark ran his fingers through his deep red locks of hair, his nerves displayed clearly on his face. You weren’t sure why he was so nervous to ask you, but it came off as incredibly endearing. Despite the warnings blaring in your mind, you found yourself nodding.

“Okay.”

Mark looked at you then, his eyes finally locking on yours, and the corner of his lips lifted in a hopeful smile. “Really?”

You couldn’t help grinning as well. “Yeah. I mean, on one condition…”

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” you replied, holding up the mask tube and popping the cap back open. “You let me put this mask on you.”

“Aish,” Mark said and shook his head. “No way. Not worth it.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby!”

You stood from the floor and climbed onto the couch, crawling to his side and squeezing some of the mask onto your index and middle fingers. “It’s not that bad!”

“Get away from me!” Mark exclaimed with a laugh, dodging your fingers. Milo hopped up onto the arm of the couch, stomping his cute little paws a few times.

“Just let me pamper you, Mark!”

He let out another laugh, louder this time, trying to reach for the mask to steal from your grasp, but he wasn’t fast enough. You giggled, ducking to miss his hands as he grabbed for your wrists.

Somehow, you found yourself straddling him, thighs resting on either side of Mark’s waist.

“Real men wear face masks!” you exclaimed with a shout of victory as you finally managed to smear a good amount of the clay mask across Mark’s left cheek.

“Oh, you little-” he replied, hands reaching for your sides underneath the long sleeved shirt you were wearing. He tickled your sides, a joyful laugh falling from his lips when you started squealing.

Milo yapped a few times from the arm of the chair, presumably because he thought that you were hurting Mark or vice versa, but his protective barks only made you laugh harder.

“Mark! Stop it!”

You gasped for breath, wriggling on top of him and dropping the mask tube, fighting between giggling and trying to swat his hands away.

“It’s what you deserve, you sneak,” he said, his hands still squeezing and tickling your sides, unknowingly drifting further up your shirt to your ribs.

Twisting and turning, you finally managed to grab his wrists and yanked them from under your shirt. You held them firmly in between your bodies, even though he could have easily overpowered you.

Your chest heaved up and down with the last of your giggles. Mark stared up at you, still smiling and out of breath. The air suddenly became thick as you held eye contact, your hands falling from his wrists to his chest.

“Y/N,” Mark whispered.

‘Danger! Danger!’ your mind yelled.

Mark’s hands, now free from your hold, landed on your hips. You felt his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt, stroking the bare skin of your stomach. Your heart pounded beneath your rib cage at his gentle touch.

“Mark,” you said, intending on telling him to stop, but it quickly died in your throat.

His chin tipped up, making you realize just how close you were to him now. You weren’t sure who had leaned in first, but only a few mere inches separated your lips from his now. If you only bent forward a bit, you could…

It reminded you, all of the sudden, of the kiss in the bathroom. It had been quick, but long enough for you to slide your tongue past his lips. You remembered the shock to your system the moment you had felt the cold metal of a tongue piercing.

“Y/N,” Mark said again. “Tell me to stop.”

His voice was quiet but you felt like you could read between the lines. He didn’t want to stop, and the only way he was going to stop was if you made it clear that you didn’t want this.

But you did. You’d wanted it from the moment he ran his fingers over the tattoo he’d inked onto your skin one of those first nights, a soft ghost of a touch that made goosebumps form on every inch of your skin.

You weren’t stupid, you knew that this was all wrong for a variety of reasons, the least of which being that he was your roommate. But that meant nothing to you compared to the way his hands felt on your skin.

Before you could open your mouth, tell him that you didn’t want him to stop, an 8-bit version of the Mario Kart theme blasted from somewhere behind you. You jumped, your heart skipping several beats from the surprise.

Mark took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, blinking a few times before he gently guided your hips to climb off of him. “Sorry, I should…”

The ringtone felt familiar but you couldn’t figure out why. Even as you watched Mark grab for his phone off the coffee table and immediately silence it, you wracked your brain to try and remember where you had heard that ringtone before.

It was as if Taehyung had known, the moment that Mark quieted the little voice in his head telling him not to be so close to you and that this was wrong in so many ways, and finally accepted his feelings for you.

Maybe he had a sixth sense.

The moment that had passed between you then had been effectively ruined as soon as he was reminded of two things: you were his childhood best friend’s little sister, and he had already ruined your life even if you didn’t know it yet.

But he’d been so close to giving in. You’d been on top of him, smiling in that innocently beautiful way that you did, your thighs caging in his hips. He hadn’t missed the fact that he could feel you with every inch of him, considering how he’d begged his body not to react, not to harden beneath you. Between the thin layers of his sweats and your sleep shorts, there was no way you wouldn’t notice.

Later, after you’d grabbed a washcloth so you could both wipe the face mask off your faces and awkwardly watch TV for an hour before enough time could pass for you to realistically head off to bed, Mark listened to the voicemail Taehyung had left.

“Hey man. I just wanted to let you know that uh, I’m going to try and head to the city and look for Y/N in a few weeks. If you see her again or have any idea where she might be, let me know. I really appreciate it, my mom’s been going crazy… anyway, maybe we can grab a drink or something once I’m in town. I’ll hit you up. Thanks again, Mark.”

Mark was glad he was in the privacy of his own bedroom when he listened to the message so you didn’t see the way he threw his phone down on the bed, muttering curse words to himself and trying to forget how heavenly you had felt on top of him.

It was impossible. All he could think about was your skin under his fingertips, how your lips had been so soft and smooth and close to his, and how the weight of you on top of him had been enough to make him hard.

His only option was to shut himself in the bathroom and crank the shower all the way to the coldest temperature that he could stand and pray that it would be enough to keep him from sneaking into your bedroom that night.

#mark tuan #got7creators #kibfic #got7 fanfic #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan angst #mark tuan fluff #got7 mark #got7 imagine #writing

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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

Text

Gwynriel one shot

I wrote another fanfic before this one. Each can be stand alones, but I wrote this one awhile ago with the intent that this specific scene happens before the mate bond snaps into place for them. I like the idea of the necklace causing major drama, but I also think Gwyn is a levelheaded person which is where the inspiration for this scene came from. Enjoy!

Nesta had insisted on a dinner party for Gwyn's birthday. Gwyn hadn't wanted a celebration. This day had been one shared with her sister. The sister she had failed. She no longer found this day worth celebrating. She was not worthy of this day. Not without her sister by her side. She found she couldn't deny Nesta though. Not when her and Emerie bounced off chattering excitedly about the night they would plan for her. Even the house flickered with excitement.

Gwyn stared at her reflection. It was so different than what she was used to. She borrowed one of Nesta's more modest dresses for the occasion. It was still much tighter than her priestess robes and showed much more of her collar bone than her fighting leathers had. She left her hair down, mostly to cover the parts of her shoulders that the dress didn't. The final adornment to her ensemble for the night was the dainty necklace given by an anonymous friend.

Gwyn smiled at the memory of Clotho handing her the necklace. Gwyn hadn't realized why the piece of jewelry was important to her. Just that it was. The evening would be fine she reassured herself. She would not allow her thoughts to stray to Catrin. Catrin was gone and she had to accept that. Gwyn stifled a laugh at the memory of previous birthdays. Catrin was a notoriously bad gift giver and even though she knew Gwyn better than anyone, her gifts were never sentimental. One year she got Gwyn a book of songs which would have been wonderful if Gwyn did not already have that exact same book. A book that she had shown Catrin out of sheer excitement when she originally got it.

Gwyn found herself walking up the stairs to the house of wind. She stopped right outside the dining room. She just needed one moment to compose herself. A shadow whipped out as if to alert her of Azriel's presence. She smiled at the shadow before turning to the Shadowsinger. His face was unreadable per usual, but he was staring at her with a new sort of intensity.

"I just needed a moment before the chaos ensues." Gwyn felt the need to explain why she was staring at the door to the dining room. Azriel nodded his head in understanding. He knew better than anyone how overwhelming his family could be.

"Happy birthday Gywneth." He gave his normal smile as he said the words. It was the only smile he gave out. Could barely call it a smile considering it was the smallest upturn of the corner of his mouth. It was enough to ease the anxiety blooming in Gwyn's chest.

"Thank you." She planted a large smile on her face and opened the door to the dining room. She was immediately bombarded by her two best friends.

"I knew that dress would look amazing on you." Nesta smirked. Gwyn had outwardly refused the dress at first. Claiming it would not look half as good on Gwyn as it did on the more petite Archeron sister.

"You look beautiful Gwyn!" Emerie gushed. She looked as though she was going to cry and Gwyn couldn't help but poke fun at her.

"Are you going to cry, mother?" Gwyn's light jesting was returned with an elbow to the ribs.

"We are going to warn you now though, you can't open your gift until tonight. We are all sleeping in the library. I already have it set up for the three of us." Nesta was giving Gwyn the warm smile that always made her feel accepted. She had found a sister in Nesta. Their relationship was different than that of the one with her twin yet it made Gwyn's chest squeeze happily. Her relationship with Emerie was much the same. She knew tonight would be draining and wanted nothing else but to go to her room alone after this dinner. She never could deny Nesta and Emerie especially when they teamed up like this.

"Sounds fun!" She emphasized the words, trying to make herself sound excited.

"Happy birthday Gwyn!" Cassian shouted from where he stood across the room. He lifted his drink to her. Suddenly a wine glass appeared in her hand. She whispered her thanks to the house.

"Gwyn you look lovely!" Feyre walked over to give Gwyn a hug which was ultimately awkward since Nyx was resting on her hip and he just wanted to pull Gwyn's hair. Rhysand appeared next to Feyre. He also lifted his glass to Gwyn.

"Nesta demanded extravagance for you and I couldn't exactly say no. Only the good alcohol for tonight." He sent the priestess a wink. Once again the thought of her sister crowded her mind. Those thoughts were always ready to remind her of what she deserved. Good wine was not one of them.

"Thank you everyone. It means a lot." Gwyn made sure to make eye contact with everyone. She truly was grateful for the effort and she wanted them to know that.

"Well, let's eat." Amren drawled.

Rhysand wasn't joking when he said Nesta demanded extravagance. Her and Emerie had created such a feast that Gwyn couldn't control the shock etched on her face. The item that caught her eye was the fish. Parmesan crusted flounder. It was a rarity growing up the way that they did. Gwyn couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her.

"This was my sister's favorite! When we were younger they served this on special occasions and Catrin would pick it up whole and would pretend the fish could talk." The table had gone quiet. Probably recognizing that any discussion of her sister was taboo. That didn't seem to stop Elain from inquiring. Though Gwyn questioned how much anyone told her. From their few interactions, Gwyn gathered that there wasn't much information the girl was included on.

"Where is she? Your sister?" Elain was genuine. She wasn't trying to be malicious. No one had clued her in and Gwyn couldn't fault her for that. Nesta seemed to think otherwise though. The death glare she sent Elain would have had Amren feeling nervous. The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"She, uh, died." Gwyn didn't like saying the words aloud. They made her feel her lack of control too completely. Elain bit her lip. She was about to respond when Gwyn's necklace seemed to grab her attention. The tension was so thick Gwyn thought she might be suffocated if she didn't try to relieve it.

"What was she like?" It was Feyre who finally spoke up. Gwyn didn't want to talk about Catrin. Not to people who openly judged Nesta for her perceived failings. She looked over to her two friends. Nesta was concerned, but Emerie was giving her such a soft, supportive look that Gwyn responded. She figured at the very least Nesta would never allow anyone to openly judge her.

"She was adventurous and ridiculously beautiful. We were opposites in almost all aspects. We couldn't go a day without fighting. But she was my person. We never really belonged any where, being part nymph, part high fae, we were shunned everywhere. But we always fit in with each other. We always belonged with each other." Gwyn closed her eyes. She was imagining Catrin's face, her smile. Catrin had always been the fun sister. Life was never dull with her. Gwyn was extremely aware that everyone was staring at her. She wished it would stop.

"The mini Pegasus would have loved her." Emerie said. Only the three best friends understood, but it made Gwyn laugh all the same.

"You still would have been the favorite though." Nesta sighed. She had tried to win the Pegasus over, but there was no swaying it from Gwyn's side. Luckily the conversation changed after that. Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta were in a heated debate about which romance author was the best when Mor set a present in front of Gwyn.

"You didn't need to get me anything." A blush of embarrassment rose to Gwyn's cheek. The beautiful female was notoriously bad at gift giving which only made Gwyn more excited to open the gift. If only to pretend it was Catrin giving her the present.

"I promise you, you'll wish that to be the case once you see what's inside." Cassian smirked as Mor rolled her eyes. Indeed, the gift was unnecessary. Gwyn stared for awhile with pursed lips, perplexed, before responding.

"What is it?" Cassian, Rhysand, and Azriel howled in laughter while the rest of the table looked amused.

"It's enchanted shampoo. The smell never fades!" Mor looked so excited despite the amusement from the rest of the table. It reminded Gwyn so much of Catrin that it wasn't hard to find a genuine response.

"Thank you Mor. I love it." She sent her a small smile in hopes of appropriately expressing her gratitude for the present. Azriel placed something in front of Gwyn next. She looked at the Shadowsinger with surprise. She hadn't expected a gift from anyone, let alone the most closed off of the Illyrian males. She began to unwrap it when Elain spoke again.

"I hope it isn't another regift, Az. That would just be unoriginal." The words were spoken as a joke, but the intense stare the two shared had Gwyn pausing her opening. Most of the table sent the pair a questioning look. It wasn't until Elain glanced at Gwyn's necklace again did she understand what Elain had said.

The necklace around Gwyn's neck was meant for Elain, but for one reason or another Azriel had given it to Gwyn. Perhaps he actually intended the necklace to be given to Clotho who regifted it yet again to Gwyn. She didn't really mind one way or the other. She decided it didn't make much difference. Until this moment she hadn't even realized the necklace was from Azriel. She allowed herself to wish for only a moment that the Shadowsinger gave the necklace to her himself without it being meant for Elain originally. Now she would admit that the silent conversation between the two of them unnerved her in the slightest. Gwyn allowed a smile to curve on her lips.

"I hope it isn't a ribbon either. I would find that unoriginal as well." The joke did as Gwyn anticipated. Azriel chuckled along with Nesta, Cassian, and Emerie. Azriel hadn't thought of the potential backlash when he regifted the necklace to Gwyn. He had been holding his shadows back all evening. He didn't want his family to know the lack of control he had on them in Gwyn's presence. The second the joke left Gwyn's lips, his shadows danced toward her. He couldn't help but feel relieved that she wasn't upset. He quickly gained control of his shadows again and nudged Gwyn to continue opening the present.

It was a dagger. Gwyn smiled softly at it. To the rest of the group, it would appear to be a simple gift. It meant much more to Gwyn though than any necklace ever could. Azriel had spent many lessons going over daggers with her. They spent hours talking about different metals and styles and weight distribution. The dagger in her hand was perfect, exactly what Gwyn had discussed would be her preference in a dagger. She analyzed every inch of the dagger before coming across the engraving. She laughed a heartfelt laugh upon reading it.

"I know it's not a sword, but I couldn't think of any other name that best represent you." Azriel was giving Gwyn a true smile. She realized that was the true gift of the night. Seeing how beautiful his face looked when a full blown smile graced it.

Nesta threw her head back in a cackle while Emerie and Cassian groaned at the carving.

"What is its name?" Rhysand quirked one eyebrow while looking at Azriel. What could he have possibly named the dagger to elicit this type of response.

"Silver majesty." Gwyn stood from her chair and swung her arms around Azriel in a hug. It was an awkward hug considering he was still sitting down, but it had her heart beating faster and not all together unpleasantly. Azriel too found that the hug shot a thrill into his shadows. It had them curving around her in a hug as well.

"That is the most ridiculous name I've ever heard." Amren muttered as she gulped down her wine. Gwyn didn't care. She thought it was perfect. She realized in that moment, the dull ache left behind by the death of her sister lulled while the shadows danced around her.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #fanfic #necklace #azriel #acosf #acotar

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ 138

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,485ish

Summary: The hospital keeps monitoring Y/N and Morgan. (Refer to this post on why there’s two chapters today.)

The doctor requested that Morgan be held at least twice a day, cause it seemed to be working. Tony was the only one to have held Morgan so far, but everyone understood. Slowly, three weeks passed by. Morgan was doing better, the wires and tubes slowly not needed anymore. Y/N was a different story on the other hand, and that is why the doctor called Tony into her room to talk alone. Tony was sitting at Y/N’s bedside, holding her hand, as the doctor stood at the edge of the bed.

“After have no apparent decline the last few weeks, I was hopefully that maybe we could prepare to wake Y/N,” the doctor started. “That is why I ordered multiple scans yesterday. I got all the results back this morning.”

“And?” Tony breathed out, extremely nervous. He met Rhodey’s gaze through the blinds before focusing back on the doctor.

“And there has been no decline, but there also has been no improvement. After consulting with multiple people, I have decided to keep Y/N sedated for another 3 weeks. Once those three weeks are over, we will wake her, no matter what, and then see what we are dealing with.”

“How bad is this, doc? Really?”

“Unfortunately this is one of the worst cases I’ve seen. But I have hope. Y/N is strong and has been known to miraculously pull through before. I believe that if anyone can get through this it’s her.”

~~~

“I-I don’t know, Nat,” Steve shook his head. “What if Tony comes in and gets mad? I don’t want to upset him anymore than I have.”

“Just hold her,” Nat urged. “It’s time for her kangaroo care and Tony isn’t here yet. That can only mean… just hold her. She’s your niece.”

Steve looked at Morgan in the incubator before sighing. “Fine. But do I have to take my shirt off?”

“Yes,” both Nat and the female nurse replied quickly. With a huff, Steve pulled off his shirt.

“Now, sit in the rocker and I will bring the baby over,” the nurse ordered.

Steve nodded as he sat down. He watched, dutifully, as the nurse picked up Morgan and made her way to him. Nervously, he held out his large hands and let the nurse set Morgan in them. Steve listened intently as the nurse instructed him on the do’s and don’ts and helped get Morgan settled against his chest. He was so mesmerized by little Morgan that he didn’t noticed Natasha taking pictures. He gave his niece a little smile as he rocked her. Rhodey walked in not too long later.

“They’re keeping Y/N sedated for 3 more weeks,” he told them. “She’s hasn’t made any progress, good or bad. They’re going to wake her no matter what, to see what we’re dealing with.”

“How’s Tony taking it?” Natasha asked.

Rhodey shook his head. “Not well. He’s in there right now begging her, and I think God, to make some positive progress, to push through.”

“If she doesn’t… what is this going to do to him?”

“That’s not an option. She has to push through. She has too.”

“Your ma’s going to fight for you, Mo, I know it,” they heard Steve whisper. They turned and watched him. “She’s a fighter, and she would never leave you without putting up one… I was told you enjoy your pa singing to ya. You mind if I try? There’s this song, your ma used to love and constantly sing. I want to give it a try. So bare with me, okay? Okay…”

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high,” Steve began to softly sing, fully focused on the babe in his arms. “There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby. Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue. And the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true… Someday I’ll wish upon a star, and wake up where the clouds are far behind me. Where troubles melt like lemon drops. Away above the chimney tops, that’s where you’ll find me… Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly. Birds fly over the rainbow, why then, oh why I can’t I? If happy little blue birds fly beyond the rainbow, why, on why can’t I?”

Steve pressed a kiss to Morgan’s head. “You keep fightin’,” he whispered to her. “And your ma will too.”

~~~

“Tony,” Pepper called as she lightly knocked on Y/N’s open door. “I brought you some food.”

“I’m not hungry,” Tony muttered, focused on Y/N’s face.

“You need to eat something.” Pepper slowly came into the room more.

“What I need is for Y/N to wake up… this is killing me.”

“I know, Tony. But there’s nothing you can do but take care of yourself. If you don’t, how are you going to be able to take care of Y/N when she wakes or take care of Morgan.” Tony sighed, and held his hand out. Pepper quickly handed him the bag of food. “Rhodey told us what the doctor said… I’m so sorry Tony.”

“How’s Morgan today? I know I missed her kangaroo care time.”

“She’s doing well. Natasha got Steve to cover for you.” Tony nodded, taking a bite of his food. “I know that you both have a rocky relationship, but I know Y/N would appreciate you both for trying to work together.”

“She’d get the biggest kick out of seeing us without our shirts on, holding Morgan.”

“She would,” Pepper nodded. “It’s a good thing Natasha’s been taking pictures of it all.”

“Yeah… it just sucks that Y/N’s not here to see it herself…” Pepper put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I just want to see her smile and hold Morgan, even if it’s just once… she deserves it especially since—since she never got that with AJ.”

“She’ll get it, Tony… she’ll be able to hold Morgan… she has to.”

~~~

The next three weeks went by extremely slow. But while Y/N was making no progress, Morgan was doing well. Before they knew it, they didn’t have to do kangaroo care with her anymore, which honestly made both Tony and Steve sad. They enjoyed that time bonding with her. Finally, all the wires and tubes were taken off Morgan and she was sleeping in a normal newborn baby bed. She was still in the NICU, being closely monitored, but could be held and visited more.

Tony was impressing everyone with how quick he was catching on with taking care of a baby. He was currently trying to calm Morgan down. She was wailing in his arms and he couldn’t figure out how to get her calm.

“I know, I know,” he said, gently bouncing her up and down. “You want your momma. I want her too… just please stop crying. Please.” She continued to wail, so he changed her position in his arms. “Come on, hun. Do you want me to start singing? I can do that.”

“Um… oh Morgan, when you smile I am undone, my sun,” Tony began singing, chaining the lyrics. “Like at my sun, pride is not the word I’m looking for. There is so much more inside me now. Oh Morgan, you outshine the morning sun, my sun. When you smile, I fall apart and I thought I was so smart… My father wasn’t around, my father wasn’t around. I swear that I’ll be around for you. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll make a million mistakes. I’ll make the world safe and sound for you. Will com—“

“Tony!” Steve exclaimed, rushing in with Natasha. “They’re waking Y/N right now.”

“What?”

“They’re waking her right now!”

“Here,” Natasha opened her arms, “I’ll take Morgan. You two should be by her side when she wakes.”

“Okay,” Tony nodded. He looked down at Morgan. “I’m going to go check on your momma now, alright?” He gave her a little kiss. “I love you so much, and I’ll see you soon.” He carefully handed her to Nat, looking worried.

“Don’t worry,” Nat gave him a small smile. “I’ll take care of her.”

Tony nodded and gave Morgan on last kiss before running off with Steve. When they reached Y/N’s room, they weren’t allowed to enter. Standing in front of the window, they could see several doctors and nurses jotting notes down and checking up on Y/N.

“She’s going to be okay,” Steve whispered, mainly to herself. “She’s going to be okay.”

Tony moved up closer to the window when he noticed Y/N’s eyes blinking open. Her eyes found his before the doctor caught her attention. The breathing tube was still in her mouth, but Tony couldn’t help but let out a whimper of relief when he saw Y/N nod in answer of the doctor’s question. With tears forming in both of their eyes, Tony and Y/N made eye contact again.

“I’m right here, honey,” Tony comforted through the window, pressing a hand up against it. “I’m right here.” He could see her hand trying to rest on her stomach, eyes afraid. “She’s okay, Y/N. Our daughter’s okay. Morgan’s beautiful.”

~~~

Tony and Steve were told to wait with Morgan or in the waiting room as the doctors ran tests on Y/N. They were both so nervous, but were relieved at the response they had witnessed from Y/N already. They were both in with Morgan, pacing around a small, private room as she slept in a crib.

“She recognized me,” Tony mumbled, trying not to get too excited. “She recognized me.”

“That means she’s going to be okay, Tony,” Steve replied. “It has to.”

“Yeah… Yeah… you’re right…. I really want to see her.”

“Good,” the doctor came in with a smile, “cause she wants to see you too.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s going to be fighting migraines and light sensitivity for a while, maybe forever. She’s also going to be tired for a while. Again, whether that fatigue be something she’ll be fightings for a little while or life, only time will tell. Her memory and speech is better than we’d hoped. The plan is to keep her in the hospital for at least two more weeks for safety measures. But, Tony, this is the best outcome we could have hoped for.”

“Thank you so much, doc,” Tony shook the doctor’s hand.

“Only doing by job. Now, go see your fiancé.”

Tony looked back at Morgan. “What about—“

“I’ve got her,” Steve said. “Go see Y/N. I’ll follow soon with Mo.”

Tony gave Steve a grateful smile before hurrying to Y/N’s room. When he arrived, the blinds were barely open and he could tell the only light in the room was a lamp. Trying to contain his excitement, Tony took a breath before walking in. Y/N’s head moved slowly to face the door, eyes barely open. A small smile came over her face.

“Hi,” she rasped.

Tony choked on a happy sob. She lifted her hand slightly, waving him over. He fell into the chair at her bedside, grabbing onto her hand and bringing it to his lips.

“You know…” Y/N paused to swallow. “I was hoping for a kiss on the lips. But I guess my hand appreciates it as well.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” Tony’s eyes were bursting with tears. “I’m so happy that you’re okay. I was so worried.” He stood up slightly and kissed her soft and long. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Y/N kissed Tony again before gasping and pushing Tony away.

“What? What is it, hun?”

“Morgan… where’s Morgan?”

“She’s right here,” Steve interrupted, pushing Morgan’s bed into the room.

“Oh.” Y/N held her hand to her mouth as Steve brought her closer. “She’s gorgeous.”

Tony sat on the bed and put an arm around Y/N then gave her head a kiss. “Just like her momma,” he whispered.

“Do you want to hold her?” Steve asked.

“Can I?” Y/N wondered.

“Of course. I’ll hand her to ya.” Steve gently picked Morgan up, who immediately started fusing. “Sshh, sshh. You’re okay.” He moved to the bedside. “Okay, hold out your arms and I’ll set her down.”

Y/N nodded and held out her arms. Ever careful, Steve set Morgan down in his sister’s arms. Y/N swore that her heart could have stopped. She was holding her child. She couldn’t help the tears that slipped down her cheeks.

“She’s perfect,” Y/N whispered. “Absolutely perfect.” Morgan cooed. “Hello, Morgan. I’m your mom… I’m sorry that I’ve been away, but I promise that will never happen again. I will never leave you again…” Morgan began fussing. “Oh, no. Please don’t fuss.”

“Steve and I have been singing songs to calm her down,” Tony told her. “Why don’t you give it a try?”

“I-I don’t know—“

“Just try.”

Y/N took a deep breath before softly starting to sing. “A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you’re fast asleep. In dreams you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep. Have faith in your dreams, and someday, your rainbow will come smiling through. No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true.”

“You’re my dream,” Y/N whispered. “My little princess.”

Steve snapped a few pictures as Y/N sung. Tony was still keeping Y/N at his side, looking over her shoulder to see Morgan. A peaceful silence fell over them.

“Thank you,” Tony whispered.

This caused Y/N to look up at him with furrowed brows. “What for?” She wondered.

“For coming back to us.”

“Always.” Y/N gave Tony a kiss before looking back down at Morgan. “I couldn’t leave—“

Y/N suddenly stopped talking. Her eyes rolling back and she began seizing. Steve swiftly grabbed Morgan from Y/N’s limp arms as Tony rolled Y/N onto her side.

“We need some help in here!” Steve shouted.

As Y/N continued to seize, foaming at the mouth, nurses and doctors rushed in.

“What’s happening?” Tony asked.

“Tony, you and Steve take Morgan and get out of here,” the doctor ordered. “Now!”

“Come on guys,” Rhodey urged, him and Natasha having rushed to the room with the doctor.

“I can’t leave her,” Tony stated. Rhodey grabbed Tony’s arm trying to yank him out of there. “No!” Tony pulled away.

“Tony. Let them do their jobs.” Rhodey tried again.

“No!” Tony weakly tried to pull away again, yet he failed. “Please, Y/N!”

A nurse shut the door once they were out and shut the blinds. Morgan cried in Steve’s arms as Tony collapsed onto his knees on the floor. He looked up at the ceiling.

“Just one break, damn it!” He yelled. “I just want one break!”

next chapter >

I promise that more fluff is coming! And that it will get easier! (Well, until the rest of Endgame comes.) Thanks for baring with me!

I leave for Disney World this week. It is the last big family vacation that I will be on for a while. Because of that, I will not be on tumblr March 19th through March 24th. I will actually be deleting the app so that it’s not a distraction.

Most likely, nothing will be posted during that time. If something is, it will have been queued up. Things that are posted while I’m out of town will not have tag lists attached. I will put this note in all the fic posts until then.

So do not come at me for spending time with my family instead of including the tag list. (I say that knowing that people won’t care and still come at me…. be respectful and get over yourself.)

Check out the 2 ending titles and possible banners here.

Also, I will be taking all of April off for job hunting and such. Please be kind and understanding. This is important to me.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x rogers!reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x sister!reader #Tony Stark fanfiction #tony stark #tony stark imagine #Iron Man #morgan stark #morgan stark x reader #iron man x reader #marvel imagines #marvel imagine

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garbagevanfleet · 3 years

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART EIGHT

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: snuggling, tiny amount of bodily injury Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: I’ve been on a tiny bit on a hiatus, but here you go! Thanks for all of your support! I love you

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @lara-gvf @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack @myownparadise96

MASTERPOST

Kate was missing from class on Friday, to your deep dismay. You had been hoping to tell her about how shitty Trevor had been, but instead, you received a text that she had overslept her alarm and decided to just stay home.

That left you and Josh alone at lunch, just like you had been at the beginning of the year. He was excitedly explaining that there were a few kids in his production that you would “absolutely love”, and you had to agree.

“They’re catching on so fast. Rachel gave them some not-so-easy routines to the choreography, and they’ve almost got it down. I feel like that’s tough for kids so young, you know?”

You couldn’t help but grin as he spoke with such candor.

“I was doubtful that they would be able to get it, but she insisted that they could,” he finished, grabbing his bottle of water and lifting it to his mouth.

You had your lips open to reply until you caught sight of his hand; the knuckles were bruised just lightly enough that you couldn’t tell if it was just the lighting or not. As soon as he caught you eyeing it, he went to set the bottle back down.

“What happened?” You laid your hand down on the table, palm up as a gesture for him to take it. Reluctantly, he did, and you took a moment to inspect.

“It’s nothing, I’m just clumsy,” he said, pairing his assurance with a sweet smile.

You frowned at him in disbelief. “No, you’re not; I saw you make that shot across the room with your sucker stick the other night. You’re very well coordinated.”

He stared into your eyes for a moment as he gauged your reaction, and then hummed amusedly. “It’s really not that bad, it just looks gross. Just a musical mishap.” You shot him a look, to which he quickly replied, “Don’t worry about me, ‘kay?”

Not sure what else to say, you pushed forward the ziplock baggie of apple slices you had been munching on. He reached in and plucked one out for himself.

“Do you want to have a movie night with me tonight? You could invite Kate if you want.”

The offer made you genuinely smile, though you hadn’t quelled the long list of questions you still had.

“That sounds lovely. I think we have string cheese, so we could make homemade mozzarella sticks or something.”

He was looking at you in an oddly serious fashion, and you weren’t sure what he was going to say until he opened his mouth. “Hell yeah.”

+++

You hadn’t considered that you’d have to see Trevor again so soon, or rather - you did, but you had been pushing it to the farthest corner of your brain, not at all ready to think about it. So that’s why when you were sitting in class and he walked in, your stomach lurched.

You tried to keep looking straight ahead, but it only lasted so long before you couldn’t help yourself. He was sitting as far away from you as he could get, but it still wasn’t terribly far.

He had his eyes firmly on his desk, head tipped down. His posture was crumpled in on itself, and you could only imagine how embarrassed he was - or at least you hoped he was. At the very least, you knew he should be.

Until the end of class, you kept yourself busy - even tried to actually pay attention, but when you were dismissed, you let out a relieved breath.

You stood and collected your things, then promptly headed for the door.

On the way out, he looked up and met your gaze, and the sight of his face made the air catch in your lungs.

The skin around his left eye was stained a purplish-grey, his brows tipped down into a scowl.

You hadn’t hit him that hard, had you? A whole cocktail of emotions flooded your brain, and you bit your bottom lip, ripping your eyes away from him as you exited the room.

Your pace was a bit faster than usual, which is why you beat Josh to the B doors by a couple of minutes.

Could slapping someone give them a black eye? You thought yes, but there would have to be some real force behind it. You were pretty sure that you’d have to wind up to get him that good.

“What’s wrong?”

You hadn’t even heard Josh approaching you, so it made you startle just enough for him to notice. He put his hand on your back in a comforting gesture.

“Ah, sorry. I was just thinking,” you replied, giving him a weak smile.

“About what?” he chanced softly.

“Nothing - not a big deal.” You started off walking, him right by your side, matching your pace.

“How are things going with the play? You haven’t even told me what it’s about yet.”

His face lit up. “You haven’t asked. We’re doing Alice In Wonderland. Some of the songs are original.”

“What, like you wrote them?” you asked, looking over at him with a shocked expression.

He nodded, laughing under his breath. “Rachel is working on the wardrobe; costume design and all of that. I have the sculpture class working on the props and set, but they can only come like once a week.”

“Do you need any help?”

He looked over at you, surprised. “Do you want to? Can you paint?”

You shrugged. “Kinda. I mean, I can make it work. I’m not perfect, but it’s manpower, at least,” you admitted.

“No, no - any help would be amazing but don’t overexert yourself. You need to still work on your stuff.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “I’m happy to help.”

+++

You had texted Kate at lunch asking if she wanted to come for a movie night, as Josh had suggested, and she had eagerly agreed. You were still surprised, however, when she showed up with a handbag full to the brim.

You watched her pull out a bag of kettle corn, a few little glass bottles of nail polish, some packets of face masks, a stack of DVDs, and a bottle of white wine - all while chatting you up about her morning.

“This looks like just a girl thing, so I’ll leave you guys to it,” Josh said, not a shred of animosity in his tone, but you frowned up at him from the couch as he stood.

You went to open your mouth to protest, but Kate beat you to it. “Oh, no, you should stay. I brought three masks.” She fanned them out like a deck of cards in her hand.

He raised his eyebrows at her, looking rather impressed. “Oh.”

“You do want nice skin, right?” she prompted.

“He has very nice skin,” you replied in his defense, making her shoot you a look.

“Everyone has room for improvement,” she quipped back, as Josh just shrugged at you.

“I’m down,” he agreed, taking his seat again on the couch. “Are we watching a chick flick?”

“Well, I brought some choices. Otherwise, I’m open to suggestions if you guys have any good ones.”

“Maybe we should let Josh pick,” you suggested. “Since he’s going to be the one really watching it while we do nails.”

She smiled at you and then him. “You heard her - gentleman’s choice.”

“So, if I pick Human Centipede,” he started through a shit-eating grin.

You lovingly rolled your eyes at him. “If you own Human Centipede, I’m going to be moving out.”

He tipped his head back and laughed unabashedly.

In the end, he picked a rom-com, which you knew he would, and took a seat next to you on the couch. About a quarter of the way through, you realized that Kate didn’t have a lot of intention of actually watching a movie, per se. It seemed that she was more interested in using it for background noise.

The night was therapeutic. Everything felt easy. You found yourself laughing genuinely, leaned in to watch as Kate dabbed a wet washcloth over Josh’s nose, causing him to scrunch it up in distaste. She immediately scolded him, explaining that it had to be wet for the mask to work right, and he needed to sit still.

Once it was on, you couldn’t help but snap a picture of him as he play-pouted at you, his bottom lip jutted out.

It wasn’t until your nails were finished that you started to feel a chill. “Does it feel cold in here to you?” you asked.

Both of them looked at you questioningly.

“Maybe just a little bit,” Kate agreed.

Wordlessly, Josh stood and grabbed a thick blanket from the basket by his side of the couch and then spread it out of your laps. You had thanked him, and that had fixed the problem for then, but by the time Kate was packing her stuff up and ready to leave, you had a chill you just couldn’t shake.

As soon as she was gone, you turned to him and frowned. “You really aren’t cold? Like at all?”

“It’s a little cold, yeah,” he agreed, but you sensed it was mostly to make you feel better. “Do you want a sweatshirt?”

You nodded, giving him a grateful look.

“I hope I’m not getting sick,” you mumbled.

He frowned at you, rubbing at your shoulder. “Hang on, I’ll check the thermostat.”

His feet made a patting sound as he crossed the hardwood; a sound that had become a comfort to you.

“Hmm, it is colder than usual in here. I’ll turn the heat up,” he replied, and then a moment later, he finished. “The heat isn’t kicking on for some reason.”

You shot him a concerned look, suddenly terrified you were going to freeze.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, where are you going?” you asked as you watched him make his way to the front door.

“Just into the hall, sit tight.” With that, he disappeared.

You pulled his sweatshirt on and sat back onto the couch, your knees tucked up to your chest and the blanket up to your neck.

When he got back in, he gave you a sympathetic look. “Apartment 4 said that theirs is working just fine, so I think I’m going to call the landlord.”

“It’s 9:30 at night,” you reminded him, brows tipped up in concern.

“Yeah, but heat is kind of an emergency here in the winter.” The phone was already up to his ear as he spoke. You could hear the line ring and then someone pick up on the other end. He explained the situation to her with ease at first, but he seemed to quickly lose his patience with her.

“That’s absolutely ridiculous,” he snapped, filling a tea kettle with water. “It’s going to get freezing in here tonight.”

Then a pause, and you could hear her responding pointedly.

He let out a huff. “We don’t have the money for that. What are we supposed to do?”

You could hear him relent, just by the tone of his voice. He thanked her and then promptly hung up. You waited for him to come over, two cups of tea in hand, before you threw any questions at him.

“Well?” you asked, knowing full well that nothing had been accomplished.

He exhaled a long breath. “She said she’ll get someone on it later tomorrow, and if we wanted it fixed tonight, we’d have to pay for it upfront and she’d pay us back minus the emergency fee.”

You frowned but still reached your hand out of the blanket to set comfortingly on his knee. “It’s okay. Thank you for trying.”

“We’ll pile the blankets on you tonight,” he promised.

But even with - what you were sure was - twenty pounds of blankets, you were cold in your bed. You laid, staring at the ceiling for nearly an hour, trying to will yourself warm. You even tried moving around a bunch under the blankets, hoping to produce enough heat from friction, but it was no use.

You had known what you were going to have to do just moments after settling under the covers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it until you started to shiver involuntarily.

You let out an annoyed huff and pushed the covers off. It wasn’t until you were out in the open air that you realized how much warmer it actually was under the covers.

You crossed the hall, poking your head into Josh’s doorway.

“Josh,” you whispered into the dim room, and he stirred instantly.

“Yeah,” he responded, a rasp in his throat.

It took you a second to work up the courage to ask, “Can I sleep in here tonight? I cannot get warm for the life of me.”

“Yeah, of course.” His reply came after a moment of him shifting over for you.

You rushed back to your bedroom, snatching the blankets off of the bed. They were too thick to really bunch them up in your arms to carry, so you ended up half-dragging them over. When you returned, he held the comforter open for you.

“I hope I’m not intruding.” You climbed in, quickly pulling all of the blankets over you as he helped you situate them comfortably.

He shushed you assuringly.

“Why is your bed so warm?” you complained, shuffling down until the blankets were up to your chin.

The smile on his lips could be heard through the hum he let out. “I’m used to the cold. I’m sorry to tell you that this isn’t even close to the coldest it’ll get here. You probably haven’t had to make your own body heat much back home.”

“This is literally like body heat donation for the needy,” you teased, turning in bed until you were facing him. “Can I lay where you were laying?”

“What, no,” he said through an incredulous laugh.

“I bet it’s so warm though,” you whined. “Feel how cold my feet are.”

You shifted until you could press your toes against his bare ankle, making him jolt.

“Jesus,” he hissed. “If you want the heat you’re just going to have to come over by me.”

You took a second to gauge that response, trying to find any evidence of teasing in his tone. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“How do you wanna do this?” His tone sounded like it was inching toward disbelief.

Through a frown, you asked, “What do you mean?”

The sound of him quietly clearing the sleep from his throat filled the otherwise quiet room. “Just. I don’t know, do you wanna put a blanket between us?”

You giggled breathily at him. “No, I’m too cold to be worried about modesty, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Okay, I’m just going to lay here and you just situate yourself however feels comfortable for you.”

Without any hesitation, you scooted toward him until your chest was flush to his side, your chin rested against his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” you inquired, snuggling deeper under the sheets.

The warmth was heavenly.

“Your skin is fucking freezing,” he mumbled, clearly close to sleep again already.

“Good, so you see that the situation is dire,” you quipped, wriggling your fingers until he let you slip them between his chest and his bicep. His muscles jumped, and you could tell just how cold your skin was just from the way he felt hot to the touch.

He breathed a laugh, and in a teasing tone, agreed, “Life-threatening, I’d go so far as to say. Wake me up if you need anything, okay?”

You agreed, pressing your nose against the sleeve of his shirt, and drifted off.

+++

When you woke, it was to the sound of his alarm. You felt him reach a hand out of the covers and flick his phone off, putting a stop to the shrill ringing instantly.

It took you a second to realize you were borderline hot. You couldn’t figure out why it was so dark until you realized that one of the sheets was almost completely over your head, blocking out the sun that shone through the slats in his blinds. You wiggled until your head was out from under the blanket, but quickly pulled it back up to your chin when you felt how the cold room made your skin prickle.

Once you got your wits about you, you wiped the sleep from your eyes, popping them open in shock when you realized the position you were in. You weren’t sure if it was him, or you, but somehow he had shifted in the night so that your chests were pressed flush together.

In his sleepy state, he placed his hand on the back of your head, pressing your face back into his neck where it was positioned - unbeknownst to you.

With your nose touching his skin, you could feel his pulse on the tip of it, slow and steady - like he wasn’t really awake. The smell of his cologne was familiar to you now.

“Josh,” you whispered, tipping your head up until you realized the limited mobility you actually had.

He hummed, and you knew the second he was conscious because his muscles tensed all at once before loosening enough to release you.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as you untangled your legs from his. “I must have really been out.”

“It’s okay, I was too.” You looked up at him with a smile. “We survived the night.”

He hummed through tilted up lips. “That’s good; I would have been really upset if you died in my bed.”

After a moment, you groaned a complaint. “I do not want to get out of bed. I know it’s going to be fucking freezing. If we move out of here, can we go somewhere warm?”

He tilted his head over to meet your eyes with a subtle smirk.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he replied. You were contemplating pressing further, but he spoke again. “I’m staying home today from school so I can be here when the repairmen come.”

You frowned. “Do you want me to stay instead? Or with you to keep you company?”

“No, I’ll be good. You need to go to school and stay warm.”

You grimaced at him, secretly wishing he had asked you to stay so you didn’t have to get out of bed.

“Okay, you’re sure?”

He laughed at you. “Yes, you should get moving. Feel free to wear any of my warmer clothing.”

You shot him a grateful look before closing your eyes and throwing the blankets off of yourself.

#brightest blue fic #josh x reader #josh kiszka #josh kiszka fic #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #writing

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heyitsmerose · 3 years

Text

Ateez Reaction to their s/o having pmdd (Hyung Line)

PMDD - (Premenstrual dysphoric disorder) Is a menstrual disorder that many women have that causes extremely painful period cramps, nauseousness, sever mood swings and is overall quite frustrating to deal with. I am writing this imagine from my experience of pmdd, however remember everyone’s body is different, and in no way do I want to generalise any illness. Okay thank you, happy reading! :)

Word Count: 2.5k

Mature Language*

Smut content

Hongjoong:

It was Friday night, and that meant movie night for you and Hongjoong. It was something you suggested, and although Hongjoong refused initially, you know how much he secretly loves it. Probably more than you in fact. This week, it was your turn to pick a movie, and you had picked a simple rom-com, one that you’ve watched hundreds of times and one that both you and Hongjoong absolutely loved. You sat on either side of the couch with a bowl of popcorn in the middle.

About halfway through the movie, you noticed Hongjoong staring at you, you looked back up at him and shrugged, asking him what was wrong only for him to sigh and shake his hand. You were confused to say the least, however when you looked back up the movie, you realised why he was acting the way he was. You saw the lead actors cuddling up together on the couch, it was one of your favourite scenes, as the characters finally realised their love for eachother. In your case however, you realised Hongjoong wanted to cuddle you too, but was too shy to admit it. You sneakily took that as a sign, and scooted closer to him. The second he saw you scooting closer, a wide smile erupted on his face, and he took you in his arms. It was small moments like this that made you realise how much you loved him. You scooted closer to him and buried you head in his chest, while he rested his chin on your head. He wrapped both his arms around your waist and nuzzled your neck.

“I love you so much” He whispered

“I love you more” You whispered back taking his knuckles and kissing them

Another 20 minutes later, you started to find the position you were in a little uncomfortable. You were on your period anyways and your chest was starting to feel really sore. You tried moving Hongjoong’s arms away from you subtly, but he noticed and looked at you. You just smiled and shook your head while watching the movie again. A few minutes later, your chest started feeling really sore, and you decided to just massage it to relieve the pain. This didn’t go unnoticed by Hongjoong however.

“Um babe, what are you doing?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“Nothing sorry, my chest feels a little sore” you croaked out, already feeling the strain in your back too.

“Ahh, you’re on your period, it’s the 17th” He realised all of a sudden

“Wait you- how did you know?”

“I just remember” He shrugged a blush growing on his cheeks

“Anyways, do you want me to help?” He asked sincerely

“Sure” You responded chuckling, thinking he was joking. Instead he just moved your hand aside and slid his hands under your thin white top.

“Wait, you’re being serious” You asked genuinely surprised. You hadn’t done anything intimate yet, despite making out a few times, this was definitely a first.

“Yeah” He said nonchalantly, unhooking your bra. He let your bra fall to your stomach, before taking it out and throwing it to the side. He then put his hands back under your shirt, not touching you yet.

“May I?” He asked lovingly, looking you straight in the eyes. You nodded, and his hands gently made contact with your stomach. You immediately got chills and he kissed the back of your neck, giggling.

He then proceeded to slowly glide his hands up, cupping both breasts in his hands. Instantly, you sighed in relief and comfort. He started kneading them slightly, skilfully using his fingers to ease the tension. He kissed the nape of your neck and squeezed you breasts tighter. You gasped and sighed, feeling like you were in heaven. He then trailed his hands further up towards your shoulders and back using his fingers to put pressure on certain points and relieve the tension. You sighed in response, assuring him that you felt better. He trailed his fingers back to the front, and took his hands out of your tshirt. You turned around in his lap, and kissed him on the jaw.

“Thank you” You said sincerely looking at him with nothing but love in your eyes.

“Any time babe” he responded kissing your nose.

This became a regular occurrence, and he often gave you massages during that time of the month.

Seonghwa:

You and Seonghwa rarely got time together due to his busy schedule, however after a lot of begging the KQ staff, all the boys had gotten the weekend and a few days off. You and Seonghwa particularly were overjoyed, and he quickly booked a weekend getaway for the both of you. It had been so long since you last got to spend time together like that, so you were excited to say the least.

Once you both arrived at the location, you were thrilled to see mountains and a river just from your balcony. You couldn’t have asked for more. You wanted to simply lounge around in your hotel room all day, since it was the first day of your period. Knowing you had pmdd, you knew the best option would to be to stay at the room for just a night, and to just let it pass. You changed into some black thin leggings and one of Seonghwa’s hoodies and made yourself comfortable on the big bed and fell asleep. A few hours later you were awoken by Seonghwa’s honey like voice.

“Baby, it’s time to get up, I’ve made a reservation for the both of us at a restaurant nearby.”

Not wanting to disappoint him, and feeling very grateful, you changed into a simple above the knee, bodycon dress and did your makeup quickly. The second you stepped out, a bright red blush spread across Seonghwa’s face, only for him to come closer and lovingly kiss your on your temple.

“I love you” He whispered

“Me too” you whispered back into his chest

While walking down to the restaurant, you kept pausing while walking due to dizziness. This was common during your cycle. Due to heavy bleeding, you often felt dizzy, however you tried hiding it so Seonghwa would not get worried. After a while however, he realised how you kept falling behind, and he decided to ask you what was wrong. As he approached you though, you swayed forwards and fell into him.

“Hey, hey, hey, Y/N what’s wrong? Is everything alright?” He asked, putting his hand around your waist to hold you up. You tried looking back up to him, but your eyes kept drooping and your legs felt wobbly.

“No, it’s just, I’m on my period, and I feel a little dizzy, nothing too much though” Seonghwa tilted your chin up to look at your face and without a word, bent down with his back facing you.

“Hop on” He said. You were too dazed to respond, and simply obliged. He turned in the opposite direction and began walking home.

“No, no, no wait where are we going, the restaurant is the other way” You told him as sternly as you could.

“Hun, did you expect me to take us to the restaurant, when you’re obviously in pain? Besides you’re more important, so please don’t ever hide stuff like this. I know how bad your periods can get.” He said softly, only for you to hear.

“But the reservation-”

Nevermind that, I love you, okay, and you come first, besides I packed some ramen too, and I’m kind of in the mood for that.” He said and you chuckled at him.

The rest of the way you both sang songs while walking home, and once you did reach home, he babied you to no end.

Yunho:

You and Yunho were out with the rest of Ateez for lunch just to enjoy yourselves and take a break from their busy schedules. You were all out at this new cafe/restaurant, and it was not too far from the dorms. Your period wasn’t going to come for another 3-4 days at least, but the cramps had started and you tried your best to power through it. You didn’t want to bother Yunho, and so you agreed to lunch with a smile on your face. Anyways, going out with everyone could technically distract you from the pain so why not.

You both had arrived last, and the rest of Ateez and their significant others were already there. Everyone welcomed the both of you, and after you said your greetings, you both sat down. Being the talkative outgoing person Yunho was, he was having fun while laughing loudly and talking to his friends. You adored this side of him. He was acting like such a child and you were reminded of why you fell in love with him. Everyone decided to play a game of truth or dare, and you simply agreed.

At this point however, your cramps had begun to set in, and every once in a while you let out a pained whine or sigh. You played for a few rounds, but nothing too serious happened. Except for you having to scarf down an entire lemon, and Wooyoung and San having to kiss eachother on the cheek. After a few rounds, everyone decided it was time to order. While going through the menu however, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your abdomen, and you banged your head down on the table. The rest of the members were talking loudly so they didn’t seem to notice. Yunho however, did. In fact, the second he heard the clanking of the forks and spoons, on the table after you head had hit it, he went into panic mode.

“Y/N?!” He whisper yelled.

“yeah” you groaned out

“What’s wrong are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just I have really bad period cramps and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to bear them.” You sighed out, your voice cracking at the end.

“Hey, you should have told me before we left, you’re more important than this lunch meet up, we can always reschedule”

“I know, I just don’t know what to do now, I’m sorry for ruining lunch” You said, your head still against the table.

“It’s alright sweetheart, we can leave” He said. He gave you the cap he was wearing to cover your face, and proceeded to fake a call.

“Hello? OH MY GOODNESS, NO WAY!” he yelled into the phone.

Everyone looked at him weirdly, while you simply chuckled at is funny antics.

“Okay everyone, my pet parrot just gave birth, we gotta go! bye everyone!” He yelled as he pulled your hand and left the cafe. You heard a few laughs and giggles from the rest of the members and a “he doesn’t even have a pet parrot”, while the both of you just giggled and walked home.

Upon reaching home, he got you a heating pad and offered to give you a nice massage to ease the pain. It was safe to say, all pain was soon forgotten.

Yeosang:

You and Yeosang were quite the couple. Yeosang, despite being known to dislike skin ship, loved initiating it with you. Quite ironically, he was always the clingier one, in need of affection. You didn’t mind thought, obviously. It was a normal night, and you were both cuddling. One of his arms around your waist and the other in your hair, playing with it, with your head in his chest, inhaling his musky scent. It was not abnormal to cuddle for hours as it was a way for the both of you to take a break and spend some time together, in a relaxing way. Noticing it getting quite late, the both of you decided to sleep and so he picked you up, with your legs around his waist and tucked you to bed. He soon crawled under the blanket too, and put his arm under your head. You snuggled into his neck and kissed it lightly before falling asleep.

About a few hours later, it was around 2 or 3 in the morning and you felt slightly nauseous. You were on your period anyways, so this wasn’t anything new. Slightly groaning in your sleep, you tried to ignore it to no avail. Soon, the pain and nausea got so unbearable you couldn't help but cry. You didn’t want to wake Yeosang up, so you just silently cried into his shirt, while whimpering softly. You soon felt his hand trail up under your shirt and rub circles on your skin.

“Baby, I can hear you, is everything alright? Why are you crying” He said huskily. Swearing at yourself for waking him up, you tried turning to the other side to avoid him, only for him to sit up and take you in his lap.

“Y/N please tell me what’s wrong, I want to try to help you, please” He said softly into your hair.

“I don’t know, I feel nauseous and my stomach hurts, it’s probably just my period cramps” You said sighing. The second you did however, you felt bile rise up in your throat so you ran to the washroom. You threw up whatever you had into the toilet, and painfully clutched your stomach.

At this point, Yeosang was also wide awake and was up and by your side as instantly. Tears were flowing out your eyes due to the frustration and pain.

“I’m sorry Yeo, I just I don’t know why this is happening to me” you sighed, frustratedly. You clutched your stomach again and let more out, while he held back your hair and pat your back. He gently kissed your temple, and decided to get meds for you.

“Don’t apologise hun” he said while walking back to you. He wiped your lips and helped you brush your teeth, after which you took the meds. Despite feeling a little better now, you still sat on the ground in the washroom, feeling guilty.

“Hey Y/N, are you still feeling nauseous?” Yeosang asked carefully, crouching down to take your chin in his hands.

“No, it’s just I can’t help but feel guilty for waking you up late in the night, every month, I must seem so burdensome. You cried, looking at him with watery eyes.

“You have no reason to feel like that hun, I love you and I’ll be there for you no matter what” He said, wiping your tears with both his thumbs and holding you close.

He held you close for the rest of the night, humming you songs and rubbing your stomach.

#ateez x reader #hongjoong #seongwha #yunho #yeosang #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #san #wooyoung #mingi #jongho #ateez sad #ateez whump #ateez angst #ateez danger #ateez ff #ateez fanfiction

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vivianweasley · 4 years

Text

In Love With My Best Friend (Fred Weasley X Reader)

Summary: When you realized that you have always loved George, it was already too late. Instead of being the bride, you became the bridesmaid. But it seemed like you weren’t the only one who’s in love with their best friend.

Pairing: Fred X Fem!Reader, George X Reader (unrequited love)

Warnings: angst (George getting married!) to fluff, drinking

Word count: 1.9K

A/N: I was listening to “Lucky” by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat while writing this!

Please do NOT repost my work or translate it on another site without permission! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcomed

There are always a few things in life that people just take for granted.

Like that year’s Christmas Eve at the Burrows. That night, after a few glasses of butterbeer, you fell asleep lying on George’s shoulder. His shoulders were broad and he smelled like sweet cinnamon and caramel. You just felt so warm and secure next to him. At that time, you still couldn’t understand what that warm feeling in your heart meant, but you just naively believed that this feeling of warmth and security would never go away.

You were friends with the famous Weasley twins since your first year at Hogwarts and the three of you have been best friends for about twelve years now.

But regardless of being given more than a decade, you were still stupid enough to finally realize during the war that you have always loved George. And still you did nothing after that big realization, because you were afraid that he would find you weird or feel awkward around you. You just couldn’t afford sabotaging your friendship with him.

Plus, he’s your best friend so he would always be there for you, right? You could just confess your feelings whenever you are ready. So what’s the hurry?

But life rarely goes according to people’s plans. George eventually got a girlfriend. You were sad, but you weren’t hopeless. It was not like he never had a girlfriend before. So as long as he was not married, you could still wait for him.

But then, he proposed to her.

Fred told you this news when he came to your apartment for your weekly movie night. He always knew that you fancied George, so he decided to tell you this before you hear it from George at tonight’s dinner at the Burrows.

You swore to Merlin that you heard a huge exploding sound when you heard that news, but your apartment was perfectly quiet, dead silent even.

And then you went through what the muggles called the five stages of grief.

Denial. “Ha ha ha, that’s funny Fred. You got me, that’s a good one.”

Anger. “How could he do this to me! This is so not fair! I was here first! I was here for him for twelve years! This is not fair! I need to get him back! I don’t care if I’m gonna ruin the wedding! Fred Weasley, are you with me or not!”

Bargain. “Merlin, please! What should I do! I can trade anything for this, please!”

Depression. “Fred, I need some time alone. Oh I’m not sad...I just...I’m not crying......I’m sorry about your shirt Freddie, didn’t mean to use it as a tissue. I’ll wash it for you tomorrow.”

And finally, acceptance. “Merlin of course! I would love to be your Maid of Honor! I’m so happy for you George!”

You’ve prepared so much for this wedding, possibly overthinking every detail of it. For example, what should you say for your Maid of Honor speech?

Tell them how Fred accidentally splashed paint on your dress the day before the Yule ball, and how George managed to get you a new one one hour before the dance? No, you’re not the bride. This is not about you.

Tell them how you and George hid chocolates in the secret passage at Hogwarts when you were 12? The chocolates all melted after the summer and ants were crawling all over the secret passage. No, you wanted to keep that as your secret memory.

Tell them how George prepared for his bride’s birthday present when they first started dating? He decided to give her a whole box of puking pastiles for her to skip work, but you strongly opposed that idea. That’s a nice story, relevant to both the bride and the groom.

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

You were sitting on the stairs at the Burrows, holding your notes in your hand and your nails anxiously tracing the side of the paper. The wedding was just at the tent beside the Burrows, but you were panicking now.

What the hell were you doing? The man that you’ve loved for so many years was getting married and you became the bridesmaid? How the hell did you get into such an unpleasant situation?

You knew that he doesn’t belong to you. He never did. You knew that, but going to his wedding is different. Did you really have the courage to watch him get married to another person? Were you really ready to face the fact that from this day on, George Weasley will never be yours? But you just wanted him to be happy.

Twelve years of memories with him raced through your head. You missed that and you missed the you at that time. You wanted to start over.

Your brain was a mess and the insides of your stomach felt like they were tangled together. And you couldn’t remember a single full sentence from your speech that you spent the entire night memorizing.

You wanted to run away.

“Are you still planning to steal the groom? Thought we are a team.”

You turned your head slowly towards the source of the voice and it took your brain a few seconds to process and give you a name, Fred. You tried to sound as normal as possible, “Oh no, don’t have the energy to do that anymore.”

You thought Fred just came here to make a lighthearted joke, but he sat down next to you on the stairs, “You know, you don’t have to give the speech if you don’t want to. You don’t even have to be the Maid of Honor.”

“No, I have to. I promised him.”

“Or you can give me your notes, or to Ginny. There are so many choices, take your pick.”

“It’s ok Fred, I can do this myself.”

“Fine, just remember that I’m always here to help.” He sounded so serious it surprised you. You’ve never seen Fred being so serious before.

You nodded.

“Alright! Let’s go then!” He pulled you up from the stairs and you followed him to the wedding venue with your head held high.

The wedding went well. When this moment, this moment that you’ve dreaded for so long, finally happened, you were actually feeling calmer than you imagined. Watching them exchanging wedding rings and becoming legal husband and wife, you actually felt relieved for a moment. This was finally the moment when you accepted the fact that George never belonged to you. This was finally the moment when you could officially let go of this unrequited love that you never really knew how to deal with.

After Fred’s toast, it was your turn. You stood up and everyone was staring at you now. Suddenly, you found yourself panicking again. Were you really feeling calm right now? Were you really ready to do this? What if you started to break down during the speech, with everyone watching? Your throat went dry. Your face was burning up, but your hands and feet were cold.

But someone held your hand under the table. You turned to Fred. He smiled at you and whispered, “You can do this.”

His hand was warm and his smile was so comforting, making you believe that you can indeed do this. You felt warmth gradually returning to your limbs. You felt like you could breathe again.

You eventually finished your speech without crying or stuttering. The guests were cheering and you saw George grinning at you, “Thank you Y/N!”

You replied with a soft smile. It was finally over. The wedding came to it’s conclusion and so did your decade-long unrequited love. Nothing dramatic happened. Everything was just the way as it should be.

You fell on your chair. You were grateful that your poor heart could finally find a moment of peace and tranquility. “When all of this is over, maybe I could finally get a good night sleep.”

“When all of this is over, maybe you could give yourself a break in Greece,” Fred replied.

“What do you mean?”

“Charlie was invited to study a really rare breed of dragons in Greece and they said he could bring two friends.”

You suddenly sat up, “Are you bringing me!”

“Yea, Charlie was bringing me and George at first, but I guess George won’t be available for the next month. So I thought I should bring you since you love Greek mythology and all that.”

“How did you know that!” You were surprised. You always loved learning about Greek mythology, but you never told Fred and George about it because you thought they won’t be interested.

“Please Y/N, I’m not that stupid. I saw you reading about it all the time.”

“I never thought you were stupid. I just thought- you couldn’t read!”

He looked hurt, “Is this how you treat someone who’s gonna treat you to a grand trip?”

“You’re right...Where’s Charlie? I need to thank him!” You replied and he laughed.

Slow music started to play and the bride and groom started dancing. The guests soon followed them.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N, may I have this dance?” Fred stood up. He bent over a little and offered his hand.

“Of course!” You smiled as you put your hand in his and followed him to the dance floor. You two were dancing right beside George and his bride. This scene took you right back to the night of the Yule Ball. That night, Fred was dancing with Angelina and you were dancing with George.

Fred thought back on that night too, “Looks like you’ve finally found the better dance partner.”

“Didn’t know you could dance too,” you teased, but you also wanted to compliment him. You always thought Fred would be more into dancing to up-beat musics, instead of slow sappy love songs like this. But now with your hand on his shoulder and his hand on your waist, leading you, it felt just right.

“Of course! But you still chose George that year, it’s your loss.”

You rolled your eyes, “Please, it’s not like you’ve asked me or anything.”

“Was planning to, but George asked you first.”

“What?” You thought he was only joking, but he stated it so matter-of-factly. A familiar tingling sensation started to rise in your stomach.

“It’s true. Why? Are you regretting your decisions now? Are you falling in love with me now?” He winked at you as he teased you.

“You wish!” You kicked him, but your heart was beating like crazy and you could feel your face heating up.

Oh no. Not this again! You finally moved on from George and now you were falling for his twin? You tried to calm yourself and regain some senses, but you could already feel the heat from your cheeks spreading to the tip of your ears.

Please, you were not going to make this kind of mistake twice! Because you knew from experience, it sucks being in love with your best friend!

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

Many stories would be so different if different people were telling it. Like that Christmas Eve at the Burrows that you remembered and held dear to your heart for years.

That night after you fell asleep on George’s shoulder, George fell asleep too, leaving Fred to be the only sober one. He tried to wake his brother, but the two of you were sleeping like the dead on the couch. Fred sighed and decided to carry you upstairs to Ginny’s room.

You were so drunk, but you still didn’t forget to mumble a “Thank you” when Fred tucked you in. He found that adorable. A warm feeling started to rise in his heart as his fingertips caressed your flushed cheeks. He couldn’t help but left a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Good night love.” He whispered with a soft smile before closing the door and leaving, knowing this night was probably going to live in his head for a long time.

People all say that Fred is the more insensitive and oblivious twin, but that’s not true when it comes to the person he loves. Long before you even realized that you loved George, Fred figured it out.

But that’s alright, he knew he still got a chance. He knew he would always be there for you and one day maybe you would realize that too. He knew what’s your favorite song and what’s your favorite book. He knew how to make you smile so easily. He just felt so lucky that he’s in love with his best friend.

Part 2

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x0401x · 3 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #26

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Opera-phile

I had a hobby that I couldn’t tell anyone about. People like me were no rare breed.

Amongst the hobbies I had heard about from my friends until now, the one that made me think “this might be a bit hard to tell someone” the most was that keeping ice cream lids when they finished eating it. They said they would write down the date on each lid and store them in one of those clear files sold at 100-yen shops. They could only eat ice cream on special days when they were little, and they still couldn’t get over the habit of that time. The face of the person who had told me about this seemed simply satisfied in some way. Regardless, this may not have been something so difficult to say because it was revealed at a drinking party.

Now. Bringing the topic back to me.

If you were living alone in a foreign land called Sri Lanka, you could do whatever you wanted. I could get up at any time, eat whatever I felt like, study the things I enjoyed and go wherever I wanted with my Three-Wheeler. I didn’t have much, but the prices were cheap. My culinary repertoire was also noticeably increasing. Even if I danced alone in my room, no one would be watching. No, my dear dog Jirou would stare at me with a bit of a strange look, but there were times when he’d eventually jump up and down and start dancing with me. Even if I listened to music at a loud volume, the same went for my neighbors.

Therefore, I was now thinking that maybe my stopper had come off a little.

I had bought the CD in Colombo, the real capital of Sri Lanka. As one would expect of the biggest shop in the country, they sold a lot of things that were unlikely to be available in Kandy.

The jacket featured a black-haired woman with a spellbound face, both of her arms outstretched. It was an opera CD with twelve songs.

I went back and forth in my room, shouting, “ah~, ah~”. What an opera was? No, I did know. It was traditional singing style – something like a musical, in which singers such as tenor, paritone, soprano and alto would perform along with a play. But something about them that diverged a bit from musicals was that the words used were old, the melodies weren’t excitable, and they were mainly either Italian or French, I believed.

I had no choice but admit it at this point. I liked opera.

Nakata Seigi had the words “I’m in love with opera” floating about in his head. I was driven by an urge to scream “gyaaah” and make said words disappear, but on the CD jacket, Maria Callas was making a spellbound face as usual, and that made me happy. I had purchased this CD after much hesitation over buying this or buying that. There was no way I wouldn’t be happy about it. Still...

Somewhere in my head, I recognized this as something embarrassing.

My dear boss was always telling me to think rationally at such times. He told me that whenever I thought my mind was moving in absurd ways, it always happened that there was some sort of timid development in me, which I either hadn’t noticed or, even if I did notice it, I’d ignore it – but once I understood it, it would stop being absurd.

Why would opera be embarrassing in the first place?

How I had come to like opera? The trigger was the radio. When I was staying at a hotel for a while back in Tokyo, I tended to feel down because I had nothing to do other than study, so I’d sometimes listen to the radio broadcast at the hotel while devoting myself to physics and English.

The singing voice I heard at that time was – how should I put it? – tremendously wonderful.

I couldn’t think that it was the voice of someone from the same world as myself. Someone was singing in a place just a few ways away, and as I listened to it, my body felt like my body was airily floating up – it was that kind of voice. I didn’t have any preferences for either male or female, and if anything, I liked both. The title of the song being streamed was written in the hotel’s guidebook, so I went to a video streaming site and searched for the same song by other singers and the songs that came before and after said piece. Faust. Madama Butterfly. Otello. Rigoletto. The Magic Flute. Don Giovanni. Whenever an opera song was used on a TV show, i became able to at least tell which prelude it was from.

And this passion hadn’t cooled down even now that some time had passed since then.

I walked around the room again, shouting, “Uuuh, uuuh”. Jirou energetically followed me from behind. It was almost as if he meant to say, “It’s fun to go a stroll even inside a room, huh, owner?”. Sorry but it’s not like I’m taking you on a walk, I thought, yet Jirou couldn’t care less, letting out a sweet voice as I held him up and rocked him, and then running off to the yard as if he had gotten excited. Just as I felt relieved, thinking about what a cute fella he was, I found myself imagining something. I could see myself at the drinking party, talking about how I liked opera. The reaction I pictured was an explosion of laughter.

“‘Opera’, you say. What’s up with that? It’s that thing where fat people raise their voices like crazy, right? You like that? Why? No way, Nakata, didn’t you just want to have a rich people hobby just ‘cause you’ve well-off these days? Like, those that feel like you’re superior. That’s exactly what opera is. Okay, I get it, but that ain’t very interesting, so how about we change the topic?”

It gave me chills.

I wasn’t creeped out by how people might talk about my hobbies. However, it was painful to have the whole genre of opera, which had saved me back when I was put in a spot like a light reaching out from the sky, be judged by people who didn’t even know the difference between Callas and Pavarotti and not be able to defend them. I had to protect what was important to me. Or else, it would get damaged. I wasn’t referring to the long-standing form of art that had been cultivated for hundreds of years. I meant my own heart. That was painful to me.

Yeah, I was somewhat aware that this wasn’t an “embarrassment”. But I was scared.

I was low-key terrified of having people pointing their fingers at me from behind with words such as “eccentric”, “weirdo” or “pretentious” for having a preference that was different from other people’s – and something that I seriously liked, no less.

With a deep breath, I took the CD’s vinyl cover. Unlike Japanese CDs, there was none of those convenient little ears that made the cover come off when you pulled it. I slowly cut it with a pair of scissors, set it on a nostalgic stereo radio and played it while referring to the table of track numbers on the backside.

Just from the intro, I already knew who was singing and what song it was.

Maria Callas’s “Casta Diva”. It was a song from an opera called “Norma”, and the meaning of it was “chaste goddess”.

What it made me reminisce to was a seriously horrible time, when I had to prepare for my death to a certain extent. Whenever this song played in the hotel’s radio program, which repeated itself over and over, this song would connect me with paradise, telling me that I didn’t need to worry about trivial matters, so I was able to leave it all aside and relax. It was that kind of song. Without a doubt, my biggest and best saver was that beautiful jeweler, but from the sidelines, opera had definitely helped me keep my sanity.

That was amazing.

I was grateful from the bottom of my heart that this form of art, which couldn’t be classified as mainstream at all in Japan and probably overseas as well, had maintained its thread of life across the centuries. It had saved me. Would the CD sales be of any help to it? Thankfully, I had some money to spend and was probably able to buy a set of all-track CDs per month. Would that be a form of repayment of any kind? It would be great if so, I thought wholeheartedly.

“Casta Diva” wasn’t too long a piece. With a voice that sounded like it was vanishing, the song ended. For whatever reason, it made me feel like crying, no matter how many times I had listened to it. It was too beautiful. It was an impossible speculation, but if Richard turned into a song, I felt that his form would change into something very close to this one.

Once I finished listening to the track, the “aaah”s and “uuuh”s had disappeared from my head. I liked opera. Opera turned into my strength. So I wanted to cherish it.

Even if someone ridiculed me for it, the problem was with the person, not with me or with opera. And my precious, beautiful shopkeeper had stated that “no discriminating other people based on their preferences” was one of the main principles of Etranger. What was I going to do by discriminating myself?

I was going to keep buying opera CDs from now on too, I swore proudly to my heart, yet secretly decided not to write about it in my blog or talk to Richard about it. Not because it was embarrassing. But rather because I had the gut feeling that I couldn’t predict what would happen in the end if I told him.

On that day, I was busy with preparations for cooking. First Saul-san, and then Richard would come to Kandy to hear the reports about the progress of my studies. It was also like a test. But I hadn’t studied half-assedly enough to chicken out at that. Above all, thanks to the negotiations in Ratnapura, I was conscious that my eyes were well-trained, if I could say so myself.

If it didn’t go well even with this, that was fine. I was happy to find new challenges. Lots of things became easier once I started feeling that studying was fun.

And since they were coming over, they wouldn’t get angry if I prepared a bit of a feast. More than anything, being able to cook a few people’s share in this house had me overjoyed. After all, I was basically living alone, so just how many times had I found delicious-looking and cheap food but had to tearfully give up because I wasn’t sure if I could eat it all by myself?

Being surrounded by things that made you happy was extremely good for the heart.

Deciding to go for an additional blow, I set the CD in the radio. A long aria began at the end of the first opus of all songs. It was a French opera called “La Fille du Régiment”, and being fond of this one had greatly helped me when I was studying French.

The man who started to sing that he was going to marry the army was a world-renowned tenor.

In the beginning, the man sang that he was going to do meritorious deeds in the army, cheered on by his companions. Since I had been listening to the words ever since back when I could only hear them as katakana spelling, my mouth moved without any reference. Of course, my voice didn’t sound like that of a tenor, but it had the same gist as somehow trying to sing in the range of a singer from some music show. Just that was fun enough.

A fish pie was baking in the oven. There were three types of curry in the smaller pots. My Nakata-style sliced veggies pickled in soy sauce, which were a mixture of chopped coconut sambal and dried fruits, were lined up on a cutting board, and the fresh fruits that I planned to make into mixed juice were all completely ready. The only thing I had left to do was preparing watalappan for dessert. It had to chill in the fridge for a while, so it was necessary to make it in advance. However, since it was my third time making it, I had the procedure memorized. No worries.

The tenor raised his voice amidst joy. The man who sang, “Ah, I’m going, I’m going to marry the army” didn’t like the army in particular, he was just in love with the abandoned girl that all the men from the regiment he was enlisted in were raising together.

The key switched to waltz. The true value of the tenor would ensue from that point onward.

The oven beeped, indicating that the pie had finished baking. With light steps, put on my gloves, took out the whole iron plate with the pie on it and gently slid it into a white porcelain plate.

A series of splendid high Cs. This referred to when the tenor raised their voice a great deal. If the composer was wonderful in reproducing the feelings of happiness into the music so keenly, then so was the singer who sang them so faithfully, I believed. The feeling of excitement turned into the melody just the way it was.

I arranged the dishes on the table and peeled the fruits. The high Cs continued one after another. I opened a can of coconut milk and mixed the contents with nut paste. The song was approaching the end. “What a fate, what a fate,” he sang, sounding merry. The highest note was near.

The song was coming to a close while celebrating happiness with the highest note. The feelings of the singer weren’t recorded in the CD, but I could hear them as comfortably as could be.

It wasn’t nearly high enough, but I sang along at a fairly loud volume.

At the same time as the song finished with a flashy grace note, I lightly kicked the open lid of the oven. It closed up neatly. With this, everything was all set. I was going to put away the CD set before the guests arrived.

Or so I had planned.

After the peak of my excitement, I noticed that someone was standing outside the window. He hadn’t come in from the front door. Hence the chime didn’t ring.

“Bravo, bravissimo.” A beautiful man wearing a white shirt and sunglasses, said glasses charmingly pushed up above his forehead, was smiling while applauding at my stiffened self.

The test was terrible that day. I didn’t think there was any issue with the contents of my answers. However, since I was stuttering so much, Saul, my mentor who was so picky about manner of speech as well as the contents of it, pointed out that I should “act more dignified”. I knew that better than anyone. There was too much noise interference in my head with things such as, “Why did I put opera on in such high spirits? What did he think of me now? As I thought, does he think that this hobby doesn’t suit me? No, that’s definitely impossible when it comes to my teacher, so I have to take control of my self-consciousness”.

And so, this is a story that happened more than half a year after that. Something that took place in Sri Lanka in May.

“Eh?”

“Happy birthday, Seigi. Here is a little present.”

“A bank deposit transfer certificate?”

“Good job reading it. That is from the USA.”

“USA...”

“There was a seat that you would probably like, so I purchased a year’s worth of it.”

“A year”? This wasn’t potato chips or cup noodles. What kind of seat was that? Was there a truck coming to deliver it? While thinking about such things, I continued reading the A4 paper, and when I got to half of it, I roared loudly. I let out a voice that sounded like a crushed frog, I believed.

The seat that Richard had given me was indeed a seat. But at a music theatre in America, which was likely the world’s most famous. It was a one-year membership card.

This was proof that “a seat will be reserved for you”. A seat just for me, for any performance, that I could use whenever I went there.

I felt lightheaded. Just how much had this “seat” cost him? What was he trying to do by giving something like this to someone who sat in swivel chairs sold at mass retailers? I did have such rational retorts in my head, but above that, I was so, so happy that I started jumping up and down. I could go to a theatre that I only knew about from CDs. Anytime, as long as I had the plane tickets. No matter who was singing.

“Can I really have this?!”

“Do you think I’m some sort of boorish lad who’d take back the treasure after making the other person happy?”

“No way! Uoooh, I’m too excited; that’s bad!”

“You are reacting like a dog again...”

“I’m gonna run in the yard for a bit!”

As I, with a messy katakana pronunciation, sang to myself the chorus part of the aria that had just finished while rolling around in the yard, Jirou ran over and mounted on me without restraint. “Owner, we’re going to play here, right? We’re going to play here, right? Come, let’s play,” he seemed to say, energetically wagging his tail. I was so happy that I hugged him and rolled about, but then I could see Richard laughing. The yard was on a slightly lower level than the house, so the house was wholly visible, so I didn’t think I was mistaken. He really was making a happy-looking face. This might have been my first time seeing that man laugh with such a child-like expression.

At that moment, something suddenly came to mind.

When Richard told me for the first time that he “likes pudding”, did he also think for a bit that it was embarrassing or wonder about what I was going to say? This man had thorough knowledge about the so-called “society”. There was no way that he hadn’t considered the possibility.

But he had told me about it.

Did I not say anything weird to him back then? “A man, liking pudding?” or “Why would a foreigner like a Japanese dessert?” It gave me the creeps. Back then, I didn’t have as much care as now regarding how to handle such circumstances. I just had words jumping out of my mouth like knives. This still applies even now, but I wanted to think it had gotten better, even if just a little.

Had I not said anything to him? Had I not hurt him? I didn’t have any way to confirm that now. If I apologized without knowing what I had said, it wouldn’t be a sincere apology.

But right now, Richard was looking at my happy self and smiling.

So I decided to stop thinking about these things. And from now on too, I would keep making heaps upon heaps of the things he liked.

I had to protect what was important to me by myself. But if I happened to notice something that mattered to someone who was dear to me, I wanted to cherish it too. I had no other choice.

After stroking Jirou, I went back to where Richard was and bowed to him again. He reciprocated the bow with a “you are welcome” and seemed about to start laughing again.

“That’s right, I was gonna make pudding. Wait just a bit more.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“You already got me a seat at the MET; I can’t go along with that flattery even as a joke. I’d be happy if you played with Jirou, though.”

“Then, I will take you up on those words.”

Rubbing my chest in relief, I went back to my room, patting my whole body to remove the dirt and dog hairs, and after washing my hands with soap, I returned to the kitchen.

By the looks of it, I was going to be able to listen to an opera in person one of these days – at least within a year’s time. Once I watched it live, all the curtains would close, right? For real? Was such a thing possible? Apparently yes. Hard to believe but it was true.

That man who was like an incarnation of the worldwide definition of “beauty”, and above that, who was a genius at pleasing me, was fooling around with my hybrid brown dog in the yard, illuminated by tropical sunshine. It seemed that the preparations for our feast would still take a while.

“What a wonderful day,” I hummed tentatively in French. A gorgeous tenor voice wouldn’t come out of my throat, but the things I liked would firmly support my heart nevertheless. Almost like a backbone for it. And there was someone supporting this backbone. Honestly, what a wonderful day. For now, I’d be making pudding. And share at least a little bit of this feeling.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #housekishou richard #jeweler richard #the case files of jeweler richard #nakata seigi #richard ranashinghe de vulpian #richard ranashinha de vulpian #jr short story collection #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation #richard

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

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champagne problems, ch.12

Chapter Twelve: Godspeed: Moving out and moving on. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.0k Warnings: mild swearing, heartbreak, jealousy, talk of breakup/s, serious angst, idiots being idiots, very mild fluff (? idk if you would call it that), this whole series is a real slow burn.

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The solace circulating through your veins as you stared blankly at the packed cardboard boxes of your stuff was strange to say the least. It was undoubtedly odd to be feeling this content about a huge chunk of your life just, ending.

And so drastically for that matter.

You knew you should be feeling sad, mournful even. You were supposed to get married in a matter of months. You were on your way to live the rest of your life with who you believed was the right person. Ethan. Your person. The two of you were about to start looking for a forever home, think about starting a family. You were supposed to start your happily ever after.

Now, you had no fiancé and no place to call home. Yet what you felt as you stood in the half-empty apartment you once shared with Ethan was peace.

Because the heartbreak you were experiencing wasn't for your life with Ethan, it was for Spencer.

“Apart from these here, is there anything else that’s yours?” Luke asked, pointing to the boxes that currently held all of your attention.

You blinked and looked up at him, pausing your thoughts. “I have suitcases in the bedroom, and a few more things to grab from the kitchen.” You advised and he nodded quickly before proceeding to lift one of the cartons.

You watched him leave and couldn't help but think back to the night you ended things with Ethan. How he stormed out before you even got to finish your reasoning and endless apologies; the sound of slamming doors echoing in your ears.

“You okay?” Tara asked, appearing in the doorframe you were currently examining. She shoot you concerned look. “Yeah... I’m just, I don’t know. I guess I’m not feeling what I should be feeling.” You replied averting your eyes to her. “I’m relieved of all things.”

“That’s normal.” She stated.

“Is it though? I’m going through a breakup, and a big one at that. Yet I haven't shed a single tear for Ethan and for what we lost. But with Spencer...” Your voice faded out and you quickly cleared your throat. “I guess I just thought despite everything I would at least feel a little bit sad.” You added, gently shrugging your shoulders.

“Y/N, if anything this proves Ethan wasn't the man for you.” Tara said simply and you nodded, desperately hoping she was right.

Which of course she was.

Tara and Penelope were the only two people on the team who knew the entire truth behind your engagement falling through, and the reasons why. Therefore, only the two ladies knew Ethan wasn't the person for you. Spencer was.

However, that fact remained unspoken.

With one last reassuring smile, Tara turned to the remaining stack of boxes and lifted one carefully. You followed suit, and the two of you made your way outside to the moving truck - where you found Luke and Penelope bickering about how best to fit everything.

“Words cannot express how grateful I am for your help today.” You glanced between the small group after placing the box you were holding at the back of the truck. “Thank you, seriously.”

“It’s our pleasure.” Luke expressed with a wide grin. “Yeah, what kind of friends would we be if we let you do this alone.” Penelope chimed in, her lips twirling upwards.

You couldn't help but smile back at them before turning your attention to Tara. “And thank you for letting me stay in your spare room while I find a place of my own.” She playfully rolled her eyes at your words. “I wouldn't have it any other way girl.”

“Now, we better finish up and get moving if we want to make Rossi’s dinner on time.” She added and all four of you promptly got back to work.

Evenings at Rossi’s were something you always looked forward to greatly. A delicious home cooked meal, an abundance of wine, and quality time spent with your second family. The most perfect mix.

Tonight was no different. The evening was an escape.

See, you had recently fallen victim to crude office gossip. News of your broken engagement spread like wildfire. People had their own theories and speculations as to what really happened. And they weren't shy about adding their own five cents to the story.

Everyone present at the dinner however, knew better than to ask about details of your failed relationship. Tara and Penelope already had the full story, and the others knew you weren't here to share more than you already had. You came to enjoy yourself. So they didn't pry and for that you were eternally grateful.

Especially since one of the reasons why was to make an appearance at the dinner momentarily. And to say you were anxious about seeing him tonight would be an understatement.

The two of you haven't held a conversation that wasn't work related since the night at his apartment door. Every time you got the inclining to talk to him, you were painfully reminded by his words and your heart was in anguish once again. Not that the aching ever went really went away. On most days it hurt to even look at him.

The buzzing office whispers and obvious glances only made matters worse between you and the brunette doctor. It was through such secondary channels Spencer found out about your broken engagement. You had planned to tell him in person, even if things were awkward between you, but you never got the chance. The office chatter beat you to it.

Because of the distance you weren't sure how Spencer felt about the end of your engagement. A part of you thought - rather hoped - he would have changed his mind since you still firmly believed he didn't mean what he said. However, the opposite happened. He seemed more withdrawn than before.

As if that was even possible.

A small smile circled your lips as the brunette doctor entered the dimly lit garden. A smile he noticed immediately from the corner of his eye, while he said hello to everyone else. And although he wasn't looking directly at you, he couldn't help but smile too.

It was a moment you didn't even know you were sharing.

“You should just talk to him.” Penelope nudged your arm, her gaze following yours. “I don't want to make things worse between us.” You replied, your eyes still glued to Spencer's frame.

“Sweetheart, and trust that I say this with love, but it can’t possibly get any worse than it is.” She pointed out.

You chewed down briefly on your bottom lip while she nudged you in the arm again, encouraging you to go to him.

Letting out a deep breath, you downed the rest of your drink. For a brief second Penelope thought she won as she watched you amble in the direction of the handsome doctor. The sly grin on her face quickly disappeared when instead of approaching Spencer, you made a beeline for inside the house.

If you had the courage to talk to him, what would you even say? That you were pathetically in love with him? That despite his pleas, the only man you wanted to be with was him? No, you couldn't admit that. Spencer didn't want you. The pain in your chest was proof enough, he didn't want to be with you.

“Y/N.”

Wiping the lone tear that trailed down your cheek, you did a double take at the sound of your name - the sound of your name coming from his lips.

As soon as your eyes locked with hazel gaze, the air caught in your throat.

“I was hoping we could talk.” Spencer stated calmly, taking a single step towards you.

“We have nothing to talk about, Spencer. You said I should be with Ethan and I broke up with him but that wasn’t because I thought it would change your mind.” You conveyed. A big fat lie.

“That’s not why I want to talk.” Spencer countered, his brows furrowed closely together. “I-I still care about you and I know you’ve been through a lot these last few weeks... I just, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything because you feel guilty that my engagement fell apart. And I especially don’t need you worrying about me.” You spat, surprising yourself at the harshness of your tone. It wasn't intentional and you cursed yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you.

Spencer swallowed. His jaw clenching for a brief second. He knew he deserved your anger. He deserved your hostility and the cold shoulder. Honestly, he was surprised it hadn't come sooner. But as he watched you fight back your tears, he knew there was only one way to fix this - apologise.

He crossed the space in your direction, stopping just mere few inches away from you. He lingered in his spot for a moment, wondering whether he should take your hand in his like he did so many times before.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything.” He apologised.

“I know you are.” You whispered back, loud enough for him to hear. “I’m sorry too, Spencer.”

The two of you looked at each other in congenial silence - the first one you shared in a very long time. For a split second. For one blissful pure moment, everything was back to the way it was. He was once again your best friend, your confidant.

The love of your life.

As he stared so deeply into your eyes, into your soul, you were reminded of the many joyful happy memories you shared. Where the good really outweighed the bad. Where it outweighed the heartbreak.

“Friends?” You suggested, the corners of your lips twirled upwards into a tiny kindhearted smile. It wasn't what you wanted but it was the best you could come up with to keep him in your life.

Spencer returned the expression. “Friends.” He replied, although unbeknown to you it was also not what the outcome he hoped for. Not while the voicemail you drunkenly left him continuously replayed in his mind on loop. The message where you admitted you didn't really believe he didn't want to be with you.

“I-I me-an you uh couldn't-t even look me-e in the eye when you sss-said it.... please-e S-Spencer-”

He wanted you to remember the message. Remember the last time you said you loved him. In his eyes, it would make fixing things between you a lot easier.

But he didn't deserve easy. Not after the way he let things unfold.

You stepped forward, breaking the distance between you. Slowly, with your eyes still fixated on his, you reached out your hand and placed it gently on his forearm. At your touch, Spencer’s heart landed in his throat. You gave his arm a squeeze and said ‘I’ll see you back in there.’, and although he saw the sentence escape your lips, he didn't quite register it. He couldn't think straight. His mind was boggled.

The amiable look in your eyes was captivating and Spencer wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around you. Hold you tight.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss you. Kiss you with all his might. Kiss you like he’s never done before. Kiss you like he would for the rest of your lives together.

There was nothing holding him back anymore, nothing standing between the two of you, and yet the brunette doctor couldn't move.

When he didn't say anything, you dropped your hand and walked around him. He turned, simultaneously following you with his lost gaze. Trying to decipher what was going through your head. Did you also want to kiss him? Spencer settled for never finding out.

With one last smile, you disappeared back into the garden leaving him alone.

Frustrated with himself, Spencer ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. The small box he’d been carrying around everywhere these last few weeks in the inside pocket of his jacket weighing him down. The ring he’d never get to give you.

Fuck, he should have kissed you.

Still I'll always be there for you How I do

A/N: as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset, @ellesgreenaway

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #spencer reid story #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #champagne problems series

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chusui00 · 3 years

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Have A Little Faith

Word Count: 1,783

Summary: You are at Lady Danbury’s evening ball, which is the perfect opportunity to find a potential suitor so that you can finally settle down. But of course, it’s not as easy as it sounds. You’ve found yourself standing far away from everyone else, and just when you think tonight will be fruitless, your childhood friend, Anthony Bridgerton, changes all of the thoughts inside your head.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Tonight was the night where I needed to do a little flirting with men I have never personally met, and hopefully, I’ll impress them with my charms. That’s if they would gauge their attention onto me instead of whatever they wanted to boast about.

Mama practically talked my ear off when we were upon arriving Lady Danbury’s estate, but Richard distracted her with the topic of his new fiancée like the eldest brother he is. I still hadn’t thanked him for his act of bravery, although, that could wait for when we were in the carriage.

In my mind, I ventured on about whether or not he would be at the ball. The last time we’ve met was nearly three days ago when our families agreed to have a picnic in celebration of a newborn baby coming into the world. As much as I enjoyed engaging in social encounters, I had been more comfortable with reading alone in my room.

But alas, he persuaded me to join everyone outside where we could eat and share jokes under the warm sun together. Since then, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his shoulder brushed against mine more than enough times to call it accidental.

The man even offered to feed me a sandwich and delectable piece of scone he had already bitten into. Luckily for the two of us, our families were too immersed with doting over the aforementioned newborn baby to realize what we were doing.

Viscount Bridgerton, informally known as Anthony or Bridgerton by both family and close friends. I was not exempt from the latter formalities, although, I’ve always wondered what my life would be like if I had not crossed paths with him.

He is everything and more when Lady Whistledown wrote about him in her society’s paper last Tuesday. And to be quite frank, he needed to work for what he wanted rather than let it fall into his lap.

It seemed unfathomable the way he charmed his way through women of the ton while simultaneously rejecting them. I found it entertaining to see the crestfallen faces of girls my age, but am I to blame for their naïveté?

Anthony Bridgerton is a Rake through and through, which I can say with the utmost certainty because I am his childhood friend.

Now, don’t get me wrong. He loves his mother and siblings in place of his late father, and he is very passionate in regards of his interests. That includes women who have a pretty face and have given him an unforgettablely good time.

But this did not excuse the trail of broken hearts as well as tearful confessions behind the Viscount. Although a bit discouraging for someone who harbored feelings for the man, I always kept a smile on my face whenever we had a conversation with one another.

Anthony was extremely well-versed in politics, social skills, and the economy. There were times when I tested him on a popular topic in the papers, which as expected, he excelled.

I should not be thinking about the past at this hour. Everyone around me was dancing, drinking their glasses of champagne, and looking for someone to court. Letting out a deep sigh, I brush off a speck of invisible dust from the hem of my dress.

That’s when I see him, politely making his way through the crowd to go to where I am. A silent panic breaks my former calm demeanor, and I quickly stand taller to seem more presentable. It does not go unnoticed in the slightest, thus Anthony chuckles behind a hand then he stands before me in his handsome glory.

“Good evening, Miss Willows. How are you enjoying the ball so far?” There’s a mischievous glint behind those mesmerizing brown eyes, but onlookers would mistake it as a completely different emotion. “Hello, Lord Bridgerton. I’m much comfortable standing on the sidelines rather than dancing the night away. Thank you for asking, my lord.”

He shakes his head with amusement, and he finds my honest reply to be of a different mood compared to the other young women. “Then you shan’t refuse my offer to dance the night away, Miss Willows.” I furrow my brows in confusion and not a moment later, I’m swept onto the dance floor.

I’ve not the chance to process all that has happened, but Anthony keeps me focused on him and only him. He lowers his head to whisper words of encouragement, and I flush like a rose when he sneaks a kiss on the apple of my cheek. It’s too much for me to understand why he chose me instead of any other woman he wanted in the ball room.

“I’m relieved to see that you’re not stepping on my feet, and how beautiful your smile glows, Miss Willows.” I’m temporarily rendered speechless as to why he’s suddenly being quite the gentleman towards me. If it weren’t for the bystanders, he and I would be playfully bantering nonstop about the most random things we could think of.

“Anthony, tell me, what’s gotten into you? I appreciate the change of attitude, but it’s not the Bridgerton I know.” He’s unresponsive for a minute, then two. I can feel his grip on my waist tighten and the subtle action to bring our bodies closer. I’m not sure how I should react, but I needn’t say anything at all when he spins me around.

“My mother wants me to find a young lady to court because she’s tired of me being a bachelor for most of my life.” “Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised because she’s right.” I’m quick to give my reply, and he briefly glares down at me. “Oh, come now, Anthony. Even Lady Whistledown knows about your spectacular reputation and preferences.”

“Yes, but that’s all she knows about me, y/n. I just don’t think I’m capable of settling down with a family of my own in the near future.” The song comes to an end, and we bow before walking together for some refreshments. I say my hellos to several couples, single lords, and some of my friends when we come across them.

“That is a lie because from my knowledge, you’re the spitting image and exact replica of your father, Anthony Bridgerton.” “Y/n, I’m grateful to have met an extraordinary woman like yourself, but sometimes you get on my nerves.” That stabbed me right in the heart. Alright, perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned his late father, but he didn’t have to be so harsh.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you can marry whoever you want to, but you’d most definitely choose a woman with the same personality as yours.” I watch him take a swig from his wine glass, and then he points it at me. Narrowing my eyes as I brace myself for possible humiliation, he sets down the glass and takes my hand to drag me off to someplace other than where we were now.

I won’t lie when I say that I was nervous yet excited to find out where he was taking me. Benedict, Colin, and Eloise all looked our way then at their mother, and I could tell that they had connected the dots. It was a good thing that Lady Bridgerton found her happy place with alcohol, otherwise she would’ve stopped Anthony in his tracks.

We eventually reach our destination, which so happens to be one of countless rooms that was conveniently far away for anyone to hear. Don’t tell me... “Anthony, what are we doing over here? Shouldn’t we be with all those people, and dancing the night away?”

No answer from my captor. He seemed to be in deep thought, and I scoffed in disbelief. I most certainly did not want to spend the rest of my time on my friend, especially when he wouldn’t tell me why he brought me here. “Look, I came to this ball to find a suitor. If you won’t answer me, then—“

Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. The hand that was once squeezing my waist found its rightful place, and the other gently brushed my hair back. I fluttered my eyes closed, letting myself melt in his embrace as we kissed with a fiery passion I knew that had always been between us.

A few moments later, he pulled away then buried his face into the crook of my neck. I felt him inhale then exhale, as though he was trying to control himself from doing something I hadn’t done before. “I want you, y/n. But only if you’ll allow me to court you. We have gone through thick and thin in our childhood, and I want nothing more to continue for the rest of our lives.”

The Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was asking for my consent to be courted, and I would be delusional to reject his confession. I’ve never seen him so sincere and vulnerable like this before, and it made me giggle. He must’ve thought that I was going to refuse his offer, but I snake my arms around his neck then kiss his soft lips for reassurance.

“I’ve never thought you would ask, Anthony. But this means no more secret meetings, alright? If I hear an inkling about you being where you’ve told me you wouldn’t be at, then I’m ending things. Am I clear, Bridgerton?” He swallows thickly and nods, so I’m rather grateful that my warning has gotten through.

I bring my hands to cup his face, and I now see how much he adores me the way he relaxes against my touch. Unfortunately, we’ve been gone for far too long, but I don’t doubt that he’ll come up with a reasonable excuse to his worrying mama.

Anthony kisses the top of my head before taking my hand and leading me back the way we came. I intertwine our fingers to which he brings up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “It might be too soon to say this, but I absolutely and undoubtedly love you, y/n Willows. I promise to cherish you for as long as I am going to live.”

It takes a bit for me to absorb the sudden declaration, but I’m not complaining whatsoever. All that mattered was that we shared equal affection for one another, and we were willing to work for a bright, lovely lifestyle ahead of us. “And I wholeheartedly love you, Anthony Bridgerton. You are mine for eternity,”

Some might say that we were too inexperienced when it came to love, but we ignored their opinions. Like my mama used to tell me when I was a child, “Have a little faith.”

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #romance

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