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iouinotes · 4 months

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Show-off | Mike Ross

pairing: Mike Ross x female!reader

show: Suits

genre: smut word count: 2,9k

summary: you and your co-worker Mike dont get along very well. But when you have something that he needs, suddenly everything is different.

a/n: Just watched the first two episodes of "Suits" and something about Mike is really attractive-

Working in a well-known office as a lawyer has it's advantages. Such as being respected by business people or being able to afford a lot of things, you spend all your evenings analyzing documents rather than meeting actual people.

Nevertheless, sometimes there are also negative factors. For example, my co-worker Mike, who really believes, that he is with his ridiculously skinny tie and sarcastic humor better than the others. Or right now, better than me.

"God, I cant believe you. Can you behave for once?" I use my fingers to push my hair back in frustration, noticing how my head starts to hurt. Its 10 pm and I'm currently trying to stay calm, though because of one man in particular, my nerves seem to be getting thinner within seconds. Valuable time is wasted that I could spend somewhere else instead of with him.

"Now it's my fault, that you don't have the documents with you? Sorry, I can't help you being organized in your own workplace." His voice irritates me. Everything about him is so frustrating.

"I told you, I didnt get the message! How am I supposed to know, that you need something, when you don't tell me anything about it? Maybe you should stop being so childish and ask me in the first place, instead of running to Rachel!" If our job had nothing to do with justice and we werent literally standing in a law company right now, I would kill him. And then I wouldn't hesitate to go to court and say it was self-defense, because I didnt want to hear any of his miserable excuses anymore.

"So what do you think, I should do? I need these documents for tomorrow. Please, I know you don't like me, but it is really urgent." Why does he has such blue eyes? The look he is going me is even more irritating than his voice.

I sign, exhibit my laptop and try to put the pens back, that are laying all over my desk.

"Okay, fine. As I said, the documents are at home, so-" I don´t even get to finish my sentence.

"Great, so I'll meet you there. And I wont even tell anyone, if your place is a mess." His eyes wander over my messy desk, and even If I don´t like to admit it, it's a bad habit of mine. But, he shouldn't make any assumptions about the neatness in my apartment.

"I hope you loose the documents on your way home." At my words, he grins smugly.

"Well, then I could lie and say you didnt found them anymore and I hadnt had the chance to go through them." He leans towards me.

"I'll run you over with my car." He raises his eyebrows at my threat.

"You sure should do something that makes you smile more often. Is that even something you know how to do?" I show him my middle finger and turn to left my office. When I close the door, I hear the laughter in his voice.

"The next storm should be named after you as quickly as you left the room." He follows after me.

"Can you shut up for once? Oh, I forgot. You don´t last one second being silent. Thats a shame, the world could finally heal." His hand rests on his heart, his features fake a hurt expression.

"Ouch. You really don´t like me that much, huh?" His eyes try to search mine.

"You get on my nerves on purpose every fucking day. Should I thank you for that?" I turn my head to look at him.

"Yes, you should. Your life would be so boring without me." He grins at me again from the side, that typical grimace that is always adorn on his face.

"You wish." When I tell him my address, he raises his eyebrows, but before he can make an unfavorable comment, I get into my car.

Darkness surrounds me and when I see him going away, I lower my head to the steering wheel. He really is the best at confusing my emotions.

~~~~~

I turn off the lights of my car and get out of it, so I can finally make my way to my flat. Its not something special, I mean I have a living room, which is quite big and connected to the kitchen, a bedroom and a bath. But I am very lucky, because I have a small balcony, from which I can watch the stars at night. But I usually only do that when I can't sleep.

So, when I enter my apartment, I let my eyes wander over the manageable mess, I put some clothes back in the closet and the dishes in the washing machine. The place almost looks decent, when I hear the doorbell.

As I open the door, I'm nervous for some reason. I let him in and turn to my office drawers, looking for the document.

"Nice place. You live here alone?" His fingers trace my bookshelf, I see him reading the titles.

"No, my wife is still at work." When I look at him dead serious, I see him laugh in surprise.

"So, you do have humor. I thought, you were one of those exceptions that wouldn't be able to do that." He means it as a joke, but something in my chest hurts.

When I reply with a monotonous voice, I see his eyebrows pull together. "I live here alone. That's what you wanted to hear?" I'm getting more frustrated again with every second he's around me.

"No- I didnt mean it that way. I'm sorry. My intentions were good, I promise." When I look at him for a moment, I see his honest expression.

It would be so easier for me to hate him, if I didnt know, he was a good human. Well, most of the time.

We are silent for a moment, but when I hear his footsteps, I tense up.

"What are you doing?" He's now standing right next to me.

"Helping you. You seem a little, tense?" I glare at him for a moment and he raises his hands in defense.

"Just pointed out the obvious. But dont worry. You still look lovely." I stop in my movements at his words.

"Thats such shock for you?" His voice shows surprise and a certain curiosity.

"Only that you say it." I look into his eyes.

"Well, you may think I'm dumb, but I'm not blind."

He just called me beautiful, sort of. It´s confusing me.

When I finally find the documents, I hold my hand out to him.

"I don´t think you are dumb. I think you're annoying. And a show-off. I don´t like that." His eyes follow me.

"What do you like then?" His question surprises me. He slowly takes the documents out of my hand, his finger gently brushing mine.

"I don´t think that is any of your business." I try to clear my voice. His touch makes me shiver.

"Come on, tell me. Would that be so bad?" His whole presence is making me nervous and I feel my hands start to shake.

At work, I can always hide behind a mask, pretend that nothing he does affects me. I can act like I truly hate him, even though I catch myself looking at him, from time to time. Especially when he shows off his intelligence without realizing it, impresses his clients and -I would never admit it- me too. It's a certain charm about him, the way he always knows how to answer, while being mischievous and clever about it.

But now, that he's in my apartment and so close to me, it's suddenly different. And I don't know how to react to him being nice.

"I look for someone who isnt afraid of commitment. Someone who is honest and kind, but who also challenges me. I want to feel safe, so I can put my trust not only in myself."

He nods and is quiet for a moment, I begin to feel stupid for telling him all of that, when he responds.

"I get that. Someone whose shoulder you can lean on when things get too much. Someone who meets your needs, who wants to be in your life. For longer than a one-night stand." He smiles at me and I see for the first time, why I possibly could like him.

"Also, statistics show higher rates of being robbed or kidnapped, when you have one-night stands." This remark almost makes me laugh, even though it's frightening.

"Well, who would even notice, if I would disappear? Probably only my clients, because they need me." I lower my head, being completely honest with him for the first time.

"I would notice."

When I look at him, he takes a step towards me. His fingers gently slide over my shoulder and brush my hair aside, the touch makes a warm feeling bloom in my chest.

"I couldn't annoy you anymore. My life would be pretty boring without you. And it's not so bad to be able to look at such a pretty face every day, even if it always looks at me annoyed, like all the time." I quietly laugh at that, feeling surprisingly good because of his compliment.

We look at each other, now being really close. My eyes travel to his lips and I don´t even know how it happens, but suddenly he is all over me. His lips on mine, his hands on my waist, lifting me up to sit me on the desk. I moan softly when his hands tangle in my hair and he pushes himself closer to me, so that he's standing between my legs. One of his hands gently wraps around my neck and I feel my loud pulse.

My hands move too, stroking his back and holding him closer to me by his tie. As he pulls his lips away from me, he lifts my chin with his finger. Now, looking down at me with widen pupils. I hold his eye contact, forgetting all about my issues with him, when he speaks to me with a deep voice (which I suddenly don´t think sounds irritating anymore).

"Be angry at me tomorrow and mine for tonight. I bet, all your frustration from work and your thin nerves can catch a break, what do you say?"

Not much. Because I pull him towards me by his tie and kiss him again. I don't want to stop at all anymore. He returns the kiss with the same enthusiasm and his hands find their way to my waist again to lift me up again. When he crosses the living room with quick steps and lays me down on the sofa, I already feel out of breath and clearly turned on.

His kisses become more intense, his lips move from my mouth to my neck, leaving marks there. But it feels too good to make him stop.

"I will gladly hear your excuses, when someone asks you about your hickeys tomorrow. Because you will be all flustered, when you think again about this moment. Where you are ready to be fucked by your colleague, who you despise so much." I whimper as he pushes up my dress and his hands pull my tights down to my knees. The cold air hits my skin, but I don't really notice it, because his lips are on my neck again and his fingers connect first with my stomach and then further down. I hold my breath as his lips touch my ear and his fingers stroke my folds.

"So wet for me. Didnt think, I would turn you on this much." I kiss him to shut him up.

"You are-" I moan, when he finally puts a finger in me. "-so annoying." He laughs at me.

"Am I? But you seem to like it." I feel myself getting wetter, his fingers feel so good as they move gently but firmly inside me. One of his hands moves to push my dress further up and somehow, he manages to pull it over my head. Now, I'm lying in front of him in just a bra, his hands slowly find their way over my body and to my back, which I lift slightly so that he can open the clasp.

When I lie naked in front of him and he massages my breasts, his lips touch mine and his fingers stimulate me, I feel like I'm in heaven.

He breaks apart, so he can look at me and I draw my eyebrows together, when his fingers increase in speed. My mouth opens and the sounds that escape me echo in the apartment.

"I'm- god, I think I am going to come-" at that he starts to tease me, going slower but a lot deeper. My eyes almost roll back as he hits a certain spot inside me.

"That feels good? What do you say, when you want something?" You stupid idiot.

"You stupid-" I begin to say as his lips graze my nipple and his finger scissor and stretch me out further.

"One word, darling. Say it." And because I feel this knot inside me (and maybe this side of him turns me on, like a lot), I finally open my mouth to please him.

"Please, Mike. I-I need to-" My sentence is cut off as his fingers speed up and I moan loudly.

"Thats a good girl, you can be so good to me, if I make you." His lips search mine as I finally come. My breathing is heavy and when I come down from my high and look at his face, I see the satisfied expression.

"You are done-" I can't maintain my strict facial expression and suddenly have to start smiling. His eyes widen in surprise and I raise my eyebrows, still smiling softly.

"What?" I quietly laugh at his expression.

"Nothing, its just- I have never seen you smiling so happy." I roll my eyes gently. As I look at him closer now, I see the bulge in his pants and the loosened tie. As I lean forward, his eyes shift to my body.

"You still are fully clothed. A bit unfair, don't you think?" I watch him swallow and my hands move to his chest to slowly unbutton his shirt. As I also remove the tie and slip the shirt from his shoulders, I sit myself on his lap. Rocking my hips forward and seeing his eyes close. His hands move to my hips and begin to control the movements, my eyes close too and my head leans into the crook of his neck as the movements become faster.

Sighs and heavy breaths leave his lips and once again, one of his hands moves to grab my breasts, lightly grazing the nipples.

I look at him, noticing his swollen lips and his flushed cheeks. His hair is a mess and his forehead is furrowed, but he tries his best to pull himself together.

I groan as I look at him and suddenly think back to todays afternoon, when he was on a phone call and I heard how he listed one reciting fact after another, without any difficulty.

"What are you thinking about?" His voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"N-nothing" I'm definitely too embarrassed to admit how much his intelligence and the way he seems to know everything, turns me on.

One of his hands moves to my entrance and teases me by just circling around it. When I try to push myself down, he pulls his fingers away.

"You tell me, whats going on in that pretty head of yours and you'll get me." My body feels so hot, I can't think properly anymore.

"You where on a phone call today and you just- you listed without any effort every single point that will help you win the case. You just said it like- it's nothing."

When his fingers dig into me again, I bite my lips. I try to control my moans and not pay attention to the fact, that I just gave him every opportunity to make him be more complacent than his usual self.

His fingers pump into me and I feel slightly overstimulated. But I wouldnt want to stop now.

"You get off by the thought of me, saying memorized facts? Who would have thought that my intelligence would turn you on so much." God, his ego probably doesn't fit in this apartment anymore.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, you still annoy me." Now I'm really just trying to get myself out of the situation. I lean towards him, so he can't say anything anymore and pull on his blonde hair to distract him.

Moans escape my lips and when I notice that his noises are also getting louder, I pull away from him. He looks at me confused.

"I want you inside me." Thats all I say, but he quickly complies with my request. I slide off his lap and wait for him to take off his pants and boxers until he's finally on top of me again. His fingers find my bottom lip and while maintaining eye contact, I open my mouth so he can insert a finger. My tongue brushes against his and after a few moments of him pressing on my tongue, he lets his fingers move back to the spot that needs him the most.

He stretches me for a few minutes until he finally guides his cock to my hole and slowly penetrates me. My eyes close and I hear his breath in my ear as he pushes further.

"You are so tight- good thing finally someone fucks you." I nod without thinking and hear his laughter in my ear.

"You think so too, huh. Would you let anyone fuck you then?" My stomach tenses, I feel the pleasure growing again and every movement of him. This feels so good-

I try to shake my head, but I'm too lost in the sensations to pay much attention to his words.

"No? But I thought, you hate me. Why would you let me fuck you, if you don´t even like me?" His thrusts become faster and more uncontrolled, I feel him getting closer to his own high.

"I-" I try to stutter "d-don´t hate you." I feel myself getting closer and reach into his hair, pulling at the roots and feeling his lips on my shoulder. His thrusts become more powerful and as he moves his hand and massages my clitoris, suddenly everything goes white in front of my eyes and I come.

I feel every inch inside of me, feel his fingers brush over the visible bulge in my stomach and think to myself: god I feel so full

When he comes too, I moan so loudly that it's impossible that my neighbors didn't hear me. His hand finds its way around my chin, he slides a finger into my mouth and I feel my vagina tighten because of it.

He hisses and his thrusts slow down until he finally pulls out of me, trying not to fall on top of me. As I give him some space next to me, he falls halfway on me, but pulls me on top of him in the next second and I can hear his strong heartbeat. With his outstretched hand he pulls the blanket over me, that had fallen to the floor.

We both try to catch our breath and as the minutes pass, only the wind outside is heard. He is the first to break the silence.

"So, you don't hate me?" I lift my head from his naked chest to look at him.

"Only sometimes." He shakes his head and smiles, gently stroking my back.

The evening went by quickly, we ordered a pizza and ate it (clothed) on the terrace. We were going over his documents for tomorrow, I blushed at the thought that this was the real reason he came here, but he just hugged me from behind after we finished and continued watching the stars.

It's not really clear what this evening means for us, but I don´t want to get into that, not yet. Because I'm not sure what it means anyway.

Because now, I have to get used to the fact that his voice no longer irritates me, that his jokes no longer annoy me and that he as a person, is actually not as bad as I imagined.

"Who thought, I was the one to get you relax."

But he is still a show-off.

#suits tv #mike ross #netflix #tv shows #x reader #fictional characters #smut #enemies to lovers #hate fuck

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sarahpaulsonsoftie · 10 months

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(Not such a) Bad Idea

Larissa Weems X reader-

Songfic based on bad idea by girl in red, loosely. Reader is a final year university student and often frequents the Weathervane for their impeccable coffee (it’s just for the free Wi-Fi). Larissa is the principal of Nevermore academy and often frequents the Weathervane for their impeccable coffee (it’s just for the peace and quiet).

Two dumb gays in love and Marilyn meddles.

Huge thank you to @h-doodles who majorly helped me with the plotline with this one. Honestly cannot thank you enough, I hope it meets your expectations :) <3

It was a typical Thursday Morning for you, early enough for the Weathervane to be open, which meant you could claim a booth and work on your thesis statement. Typically, the weathervane was a quite café but for some reason, today it was packed and there was no seating available elsewhere.

Just as you had frequented the café, there was also an extremely tall lady, with ocean blue eyes and always wearing pristine clothing. You would often catch her eyes and she would smile at you, which would make you feel like you were going to faint. God, to see that smile in the morning would give you enough motivation to get through the day, and you would yearn for it long after she was gone.

Almost as if your thoughts had summoned her, in she stepped, noticing how busy it was and she approached the counter, giving her order. Her order is placed in front of her, and you notice her eyes wander around the café and eventually her eyes lock with yours.

You do your best to hide the fact you were staring by turning your focus onto your laptop, a flush growing on your cheeks.

“Hello.” You hear a British accent say and you look up, almost fainting because the woman who you had just been staring at has approached you. Oh my god, she’s British. “Is there any chance I could share a booth with you? Its quite busy in here today.”

“Oh- Yeah, of course, I don’t mind!” You say, probably too enthaustically, but she doesn’t comment and instead you decide to offer up your name “I’m Y/N.” You smile.

The woman smiles wider at you, “Larissa.” She returns, and you feel your face flush. Oh my god, even her name is ethereal. You grin as you turn back and begin to type away.

Moment’s pass, before your eyes raise to see Larissa watching you curiously, and you feel yourself blushing. Larissa takes a sip of her drink before nodding her head to your laptop.

“What are you working on?” Larissa enquires, as her eyes crinkle with her smile. You nearly stop breathing at the realization that she’s speaking to you.

“Me? Oh, uhm, nothing interesting, just my thesis statement for Uni.” You smile and Larissa rolls her eyes lightly with a smirk.

“Of course, it’s not interesting, otherwise you wouldn’t be staring at me every time I come in.” Larissa teases and you feel your ears grow hot, and your eyes grow wide in shock.

“Oh, sorry! I mean no offence!” You say urgently, realizing you’re probably embarrassing yourself even. You try to focus back on your laptop, hoping the floor will swallow you up. Larissa lightly pushes your laptop so its half closed.

“Oh, believe me, it’s quite the compliment actually.” She states with a smile before chuckling. “Gosh, its going to sound rather silly but sometimes, I hope to see you staring to figure out if I’ve made the right outfit choice.”

You’re certain if you blush anymore, you will faint. “Oh, I bet you’d still look good in a trash bag.” You manage to say before you can stop yourself and Larissa chuckles, and you smile yourself.

“Well, Y/N, thank you for that wonderful insight. I’m sure my wardrobe will thank you.” Larissa smiles before checking her watch. “I suppose it’s time for me to leave. Goodluck with your thesis, Y/N.”

Larissa stands to leave and begins to turn away and looks at you again, “You’ll be here tomorrow?” She asks and all you can do is nod.

Friday morning couldn’t have come quicker for you, and you excitedly sit down in your booth, jittering with excitement as you see Larissa enter. You lock eyes with her, and she smiles at you from across the café. You open your laptop and at least try to pretend that you are focused on something other than her.

Larissa grabs her order and sits opposite you in your booth, and you smile at each other.

“Morning.” You smile, looking up from your laptop and Larissa is wearing a sage green dress with a golden chain necklace, complete with a golden watch and you swear you can faint. “I suppose you didn’t feel like wearing a trash bag today, huh?” You joke, your face flushing.

Larissa chuckles lightly and she has you enchanted by the sound. She takes a sip from a drink as she raises her brow at you.

“Oh please, you’re too nice to me.” Larissa states and you take a sip of your own coffee before you close your laptop. Larissa looks at you questioningly, “Off for the day?”

“Oh, no. I’m gonna be here for a while but there’s no point in pretending anything else has my attention when you’re sitting in front of me.” You grin, you have no idea where the confidence has come from, but you decide that since Larissa has decided to sit with you for a second time, it’s the confidence you need.

Larissa chuckles again and smirks at you again. “Careful, you might convince me to never leave.”

You grin at her cheekily, you’re sure your cheeks are flushed but you decide to ignore and begin to speak, “you say that as if it’s a bad thing. Perhaps I don’t want you to.” You say, and Larissa smiles before taking another sip.

“You never told me what your thesis was on.” She states and shuffles somewhat close to you, and you look down at your laptop before looking back up at her.

“Like I said yesterday, nothing too interesting. But I’m currently writing about Rene Descartes influence on modern philosophy, seeing as some consider him the father of modern philosophy.” You say and roll your eyes.

“Ah, and this does not interest you?” Larissa questions, her hands finding themselves onto the table.

“It’s not so much that it doesn't interest me, but I am not too keen on modern philosophies, I know, I know, they paved the way for society today, especially with the way he connected geometry and Algebra, but I suppose at heart, I’m more of an ancient Greek gal.” You say with a light grin, and Larissa looks intently at you, a light smile on her lips. “Sorry, I’m boring you.” You say, and Larissa’s hand reaches out to touch your arm.

“No, I find it quite refreshing how passionate you are.” Larissa states and her hand doesn’t move from your arm, you grin up at her.

“Soo, what about you? What do you do?” You ask and Larissa smiles a tight smile before looking up at you.

“I’m the principal of Nevermore academy.” She says proudly and she watches as your eyebrows furrow together, and she removes her hand from your arm, anticipating some sort of backlash.

“Nevermore? I don’t think I’ve—Oh! Nevermore, the academy for outcasts? Wait, sorry, is outcast the right word? I dunno if I got that right, erm but yeah, I’m sorry if that’s offensive! But also, principal? That’s awesome!” You say, and watch as Larissa breathes a sigh of relief, and you eye her curiously.

“Yes, outcast is the correct term. Although, some would not consider it ‘awesome’, but I suppose that’s their problem.” Larissa states and you look at her.

“Some people just like hating people.” You state, “Like how some people hate me cause I’m gay, but I think that sort of hate just makes you more accepting. But you being the principal of Nevermore academy is awesome.” You smile comfortingly, as you place your hand hesitantly onto Larissa’s.

Larissa checks her watch and frowns before looking at you. “I’m sorry, darling but its time for me to go back to the academy.” Larissa says before standing, “May I see your phone?” She asks and you nod, handing her your unlocked phone, she types in something before handing it back to you with a smile.

“You have my number now, message me if you get bored with your thesis. I hope I can help with the boredom.” Larissa smiles, hesitating slightly before placing a kiss on your cheek. She then begins to leave, looking over her shoulder before waving with a smile.

Okay, so she called you darling, and then kissed your cheek, and THEN gave you, her number. You can die happily now.

You submit your thesis statement draft Friday evening and take out your phone to find the contact Larissa saved. You click onto it and begin to type out a message.

‘I submitted my thesis draft.’ You type and send almost immediately, excited to finally have a reason to message Larissa.

You see the read icon almost immediately and then the typing icon. You stay on the chat and watch intently as the typing icon appears and disappears three times before the message comes through.

‘Does this mean I won’t see your beautiful face in the morning now?’ Is the response and you squeal, squeal. Squeal at the response. You begin to type out your response.

‘No, luckily for you, and unluckily for me, it was only the draft, I still have to submit the real thing ☹’ You type back ‘Plenty of boredom on my part still, and many mornings left in the weathervane.’

‘I suppose you’re not too busy to attend the Harvest festival with me next weekend?’ Is what Larissa says and you swear you feel as if you can faint, this woman is too much and you love it.

‘only if you promise I can win you a prize.’ You respond and there is a grin on your face.

The weekend and week pass quite quickly and eventually the day of the harvest festival arrives. You and Larissa had been in the Weathervane nearly every single morning, except for Sunday, because you decided to take the day to have a break, due to Larissa’s encouragement.

You are dressed already, after much changing and tweaking but you decided on your final outfit change that it would have to do otherwise you would drive yourself crazy.

You pull out your phone and begin to type out a message to Larissa ‘hey, did you want to meet out front?’

You place your shoes on and feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You look to see Larissa has messaged ‘Nonsense, I’m outside yours, we can walk there together.’

Your stomach does butterflies as you almost sprint to your front door and open it and see Larissa standing there holding two cups of coffee. You shut your door as you look up at her and nearly choke on your own breath.

She’s wearing a light green dress that cuts off just off above her knee, hugging her in all the right places, and a matching jacket, her hair pinned up in its usual pristine style.

“Hi.” You say, nervously shuffling on your feet and Larissa smiles lightly before stepping closer and handing you your coffee before kissing you on your cheek.

“Hi, sweetheart.” She smiles, as she pulls back. Your cheeks feel hot, and you look up at her through your eyelashes. “You look absolutely divine.”

“Me?” You manage to say, before looking down at your feet, “What about you?” You ask.

Larissa’s hand cups underneath your chin, as she brings your eyes up to meet hers, a smirk playing on her lips “Where’s the shyness come from, darling? Did I make the right outfit choice?”

“You look like a goddess.” You say, and Larissa grins down at you. You move your eyes away from hers and Larissa lets go of your chin.

“A goddess? That’s a new one.” She smiles and takes your hand into hers as you begin to walk. “Is that from all your university study? Is that where you’ve learnt to sweet talk?”

“Oh, no, it’s not sweet talk if it’s the truth.” You smile shyly up at Larissa and she grins at you, before taking a sip of her own coffee.

It’s a few hours into the night and you and Larissa have been endlessly flirting, lingering touches, longing looks.

You manage to catch a glimpse of a game booth that would let you win prizes, and you grab Larissa’s hand and excitedly pull her towards it, and you look back at her with a grin.

“I believe I promised to win you a prize.” You say and Larissa’s arm wraps around your shoulder.

“You don’t have spend so much time trying to win me a prize, when you’re already here next to me.” Larissa states and you look at her, and bite your lip, trying to ignore the heat that flushed throughout your body.

“I promised.” You repeat and Larissa’s eyes soften as she lets you wander off to the stall. She watches as you speak to the man running the booth and laugh along with him, and you look back towards her with a grin. She’s standing a distance away from you, not wanting to approach, content in watching your excitement.

She watches as the man hands you the throwing balls and you throw the first one, knocking down nearly half off the cans down. She watches as you grin and look back towards her and Larissa cannot help the yearn in her heart.

Your second throw leaves only one can left, and she watches how your tongue sticks out in concentration on your last throw and Larissa grins as you get the last can on the last throw, you jump excitedly and the man running the booth allows you to pick out your prize.

You throw another glance towards Larissa with a smile as you pick out your prize, her prize, and hide it behind your back as you make your way back towards her.

“That was impressive.” Larissa grins and you look up at her with a huge smile. You move your hands from behind your back, showing two matching bear keychains.

“I picked this cause, even if I’m not with you, or you’re not with me, you’ll see it and be reminded of me.” You say and hold out one to her, keeping the other for yourself.

Larissa doesn’t say anything as she takes the keychain from your hand and stares at for a moment before her hand is on your cheek and crashing your lips together.

You respond to the kiss immediately, and Larissa’s hands find your hips before she pulls away and rests her forehead against yours.

“I think we should go back to yours.” She says, slightly out of breath and you nod in agreement, speechless over this woman.

When you wake the next morning, Larissa’s arms are wrapped around your waist and you smile softly before checking the time. 07:04am. You shuffle so you’re facing Larissa and she looks even more beautiful than you could have imagined. Her hair is undone from it’s usual style, laying bare into the pillows underneath it, her face is bare from any makeup and you’re close enough to see every freckle that has graced her face.

Larissa stirs slightly before opening her eyes and looking at you. “Morning, sweetheart.” She says, her voice laced in sleep. Her hand reaches up to your cheek and she places a light kiss to your lips. “Do you know what the time is?”

“Oh, its just passed 7.” You say, leaning into Larissa’s touch. Larissa’s eyes widen in shock before she’s making her way out your bed quickly, speeding to pick up her clothes that are strewn about from the previous. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a meeting with the mayor at 8! Did you see where I put my phone?” She asks and you take it from the nightstand and hand it to her. “Thank you.”

There is a slight nervousness to her nature that you shrug off due to her being late, you get out of the bed and watch as she gets dressed quickly, amazed at how she can pull herself together so quickly.

“Where are you meeting him?” You ask Larissa, standing in front behind her as she uses your mirror to fix her hair into its usual style. She turns back to look at you, her hands pausing their movements.

“At a café in Burlington, I left my car at the academy, so I’ll have to get a taxi.” Larissa says, stepping closer to you. “I’ll message you.” She says, before kissing your cheek and leaving.

Days pass and you have yet to hear anything back from Larissa. You had left her a message, in which she had just read and not responded. You take the hint, no matter how much it hurts, and you do not attempt to message her.

It’s Wednesday morning and you’re sitting in your usual booth. You notice how Larissa hasn’t come in during the mornings anymore. You sigh lightly as you take out your flash drive and spare a glance to the bear keychain you had attached to it.

A shadow darkens your laptop and you feel hope swell in your chest, at the possibility of it being Larissa but as you see another figure, a lady in which you hadn’t seen before at this time of the morning, who had red hair and was wearing glasses, along with a baby blue cardigan over a summery dress. You smile lightly.

“Hi.” She says, almost nervously. “May I sit here?” She asks, and you look around the café and notice hoe the seating is unusually full. You nod and smile. “I’m Marilyn.”

“Y/N.” You return, with a shy smile. You try to focus on your work but notice the lady, Marilyn, staring at you. You bring your eyes up to meet hers and she smiles softly.

“What are you working on, Y/N?” Marilyn asks and you look at your laptop. Déjà vu from the first time you and Larissa spoke. You frown lightly and look back towards her.

“Just my thesis for Uni.” You return, shortly. You don’t mean to come across as rude but you know that the last time you had been nice to someone sitting with you at the booth, you had a one night stand, and she avoided you since.

Yet, your heart still yearned for. Marilyn’s eyebrows furrow together as she watches you together, throwing a glance at your bear keychain.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but you seem quite upset.” Marilyn states and you bite the inside of your cheeks. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but since I’m just a stranger, it might be nice to talk about.” Marilyn shrugs lightly, taking a sip of her drink, and you notice it in a to go cup.

You sigh, contemplating and decide that it would be nice to talk about it. “I, uh, met someone. I thought we were getting along great, we went to the harvest festival together, she kissed me, and then we went back to mine together. I haven’t heard from her since, haven’t seen her since even though she usually comes here in the morning.” You admit, and Marilyn looks at you comfortingly.

“I have a friend, who’s in somewhat of a similar situation.” Marilyn states, “Well, not exactly the same, kind of the opposite, and she’s the avoider. But she did so for a reason.”

You close your laptop and look at Marilyn whose hands are resting on the table and Marilyn smiles softly, looking at you with warm eyes.

“What reason would that be?” You ask, taking a sip of your drink, before avoiding her eyes.

“Well, see the person she was seeing was quite a bit younger than her, and after they got together, she just felt insecure about her age, about the difference in the stages of their lives. I mean, my friend has her career and knows that she wants to stay in her job for the rest of her life, but she confessed to me that the person she was seeing hasn’t even finished studying yet. She’s scared that this person won’t wanna be with her once she realizes the difference.” Marilyn says and you watch her, your eyes feel as if they’re growing wet. You don’t say anything immediately, noticing the similarities.

“Well, has she asked the person she’s seeing? Cause, you know, the woman I was seeing was quite the bit older than me and that was never a problem for me.” You shrug before sighing again. “Guess she just wanted some fun. It was a bad idea.”

Marilyn nods along, listening to what you say before checking her phone for the time. “I’ve gotta go now, will you be here tomorrow?" She asks and you nod.

A week passes and you and Marilyn become quite close friends, often giving each other separate advice. It’s evening time for as you type away on your laptop, its nearing closing time but you have just one more argument to write before you can leave.

You hear the door to the café open and you look up, seeing Larissa enter. Almost immediately, her eyes are locking with yours and you look back at your laptop, saving the file and closing it up before you get up to leave.

You make it halfway to the exit before you hear your name being called. “Y/N!” Larissa says, taking long strides, and you look back towards her, moving back slightly as she stands in front of you.

“Oh, hi.” You say, before pulling out your phone, pretending to check the time. “I’ve got to go, but it was nice seeing you.” You say, with a fake smile.

You turn around and leave the café, making sure you do not glance back, yet you yearn to, to turn around and you hope that Larissa will call out your name, but your heart drops as you walk down the street, and she still hasn’t called out your name.

You feel used. You feel sad and used. Did what you have mean nothing to you?

Unbeknownst to you, Larissa watches you leave, her hands gripping onto the keychain you had won for her, her cheeks growing wet as she realizes how much she has hurt you.

The weekend arrives and Marilyn invites you out to a bar, just for a friendly drink she had said. You enter the bar, which lighting is low and you notice Marilyn is at the bar, grabbing drinks and you approach her with a small grin.

“Hi, Marilyn.” You smile and Marilyn grins at you, looking up at you from over her glasses. You notice her taking two drinks from the bartender and thanking him, you furrow your eyebrows at her in confusion as Marilyn smiles.

“Hi, Y/N. I hope you don’t mind, but I invited another one of my friends.” Marilyn smirks, and hands you one of the drinks she has ordered. It’s a glass of red wine and you smile at her taking a sip.

“That’s fine, any friend of yours is a friend of mine.” You smile, and Marilyn grins as she leads you to a table, your eyes are more focused on the bar, and you almost bump into Marilyn as she stops, grinning like a fool as she looks at you.

You move your eyes to the table and to your absolute surprise, Larissa is sitting there is a low-cut dress and her usual golden chain. She stands once she sees you. “Y/N.” She says and you look at her.

“Hi, Larissa.” You say, slightly tense, and Marilyn places her drink on the table. She shuffles slightly before speaking.

“I see you two have already met, which is great because I need the bathroom.” She grins and she rushes away.

“Wait, Marilyn!” You call after her, and she ignores you, as she walks through a crowd. You look back to Larissa and swallow. Jesus, even when you’re mad at her, she still has the ability to make you speechless. You frown as you connect the dots. “You’re the friend Marilyn was telling me about?” You ask, and Larissa steps closer to you. You don’t back away this time, and Larissa takes this a win.

“So that means, you are also the friend that Marilyn was telling me about.” Larissa says and her eyes soften. Her hands find yours slowly, in fear of you pulling away. You don’t and Larissa breathes a sigh of relief before speaking, “I never wanted to use you for fun, Y/N. I just—What I felt- what I feel- is very real and I was scared you’d think I was too old for you.”

You step closer to Larissa, looking up at her through your eyelashes. “I never would have thought that.” You say softly, and Larissa removes her hands from yours, placing them onto your hips. “I was, I am, falling for you, Larissa. You hurt me.” You say, and your cheeks grow hot as Larissa’s grip on you tightens.

“I am sorry, sweetheart. It was never my intention. But after I left yours in a hurry, I thought, I thought, you wouldn’t want to see me because of the workload I have, and I though you might’ve wanted more excitement.” Larissa says, her face coming closer to yours, “But, I have to admit that I am falling- No, I am in love with you, I’m in love with the excitement that radiates from you, the shyness that have when you see me, the passion you have for university, and the I love you.” Larissa confesses, her breath tickiling your lips.

You breath hitches as you close your eyes, before opening them again to see Larissa’s ocean blue eyes staring into your soul. “I’m in love with you too. I love hoe passionate you are about your career, I love how much you care about your students, I love the way you always make me feel so nervous.” You say and Larissa brings your lips together, in a soft, caring, loving, passionate kiss.

You eventually pull away and rest your foreheads together. In the distance you hear Marilyn yell. You both look over towards her as she’s grinning madly before she shouts, “I did it!”

You and Larissa look at each other before giggling.

Fin

#larissa weems x reader #wednesday #larissa weems imagine #larrisa weems #omg these bitches gay #fluff #fluffy asf #nearly died writing this #platonic marilyn thornhill x reader #marilyn thornhill #marilyn is not laurel

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rotworld · 7 months

Text

10: Motel Hell

(previous)

desperate to get out of nelton, you make a risky decision and find somewhere to stay along the road.

->contains gore, graphic description of corpses.

Home is west. Northwest now, so far away it feels like the edge of the world.

You’ve tried to get there a few times. Every now and then, you’ll get lucky. The Drift will have mercy and you’ll end up so close you think you can taste it, the pull urgent but not so taut and uncomfortable. Somehow, it’s always eluded you. You get turned around, your inner compass spinning haywire. The road spits you out just east, too far north, not at all where you mean to go. Lost—that’s what you are. But you never feel that way until you try to find home.

And even if you ever reached it, would it be worth the trouble? Would anyone see you as kin, or would it be a town full of strangers? You don't try anymore. Home is best left abstract and distant.

Night is falling. The shadows grow. The sign seems to lunge through the fog, sudden and vicious. “DRIFT INN. NEXT EXIT.” It’s not close enough to spot off the highway, but you do see a spatter of streetlights and neon. Not enough for a town, just a small place between things for the unlucky and desperate. Anything is good enough for you now. The exit is an uphill zigzag, a silent intersection with a light that takes too long to change.

You see two long gray slabs with red roofs. Nothing around but concrete and tufts of hardy grass growing in the cracks. The parking lot is sparsely occupied, a couple windows aglow behind drawn curtains. Still, you hesitate. Your recent misfortunes have left you somewhat wary. You consult your map. You’ll make the final push for the University tomorrow, get there by dusk. South, then east? Or start heading east now? For once, you find yourself hoping there’s no town in that vast distance, no unexpected detours.

Something flits past the window as you’re planning your morning route. It’s gone when you look up but you were sure, for just a second—

And then you see it. Another, drifting silently into your windshield. Landing on the glass and melting to nothing. The sky is the color of a coming storm. Your heart starts to race.

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: SATURDAY NIGHT BY THE MISFITS]

The automatic doors wheeze open. A single fluorescent tube buzzes overhead. The floor is grimy-looking tile and the walls are off-white. Nobody’s sitting behind the check-in desk. All you can hear is the whirr of an electric fan in the corner and a crackling radio on the counter.

A tiered shelf against the wall displays travel brochures coated in a fine layer of dust, advertising the orchards and public gardens of Green Valley. These must be old. There is no Green Valley anymore—it’s been called the Stillwoods since before you were born, although the occasional antique road sign marooned along the highway might still bear the old name.

The doors open again behind you. There’s a woman standing there, hands in the pockets of a gray peacoat. She’s wearing heels and her hair is meticulously pinned into a neat bun.

She gives you a quick, appraising look. “Hey there,” she says. “Checking in?” You nod and she slips behind the check-in desk, noticeably keeping her distance and never turning her back towards you. She doesn’t give you a price or ask how you’ll pay, simply reaching for a room key off the back wall and setting it on the desk. You don’t think there was a courier sign on the door. Your visible apprehension makes her grin. “So…I don’t actually work here. But I saw you pull up and thought you might appreciate a hand. There’s four of us here tonight.”

You take the key, the plastic tag attached reading 108. “Is the place abandoned?” you ask. That wouldn’t surprise you. This motel was clearly attached to the Stillwoods once upon a time, but now it’s out here in the middle of nowhere. That happens sometimes, during a particularly violent shift or an anchorware malfunction. That’s how the University became its own city, too.

The woman makes a noncommittal sound. “Not exactly. At least, it wasn’t when I got here. It’s like this, see?”

She leans back and turns the handle of the door behind the desk. As soon as it’s cracked open, the smell of blood comes rushing out. She opens it just far enough for you to glimpse the back room and the body inside: head so badly bludgeoned that you don’t realize it’s lying face-up for a while, jaw broken and wrenched open so wide the mouth is more like a gaping wound of teeth. There’s blood pooling on the floor and arterial sprays arcing on the walls. Fresh enough to drip.

The woman yanks the door shut again. She looks unbothered, you think, unusually cheerful considering the situation. She adjusts her small, rectangular glasses on the bridge of her nose. “See what I mean? Kind of a mess. I’d have taken off by now if not for how the sky looks. Rather take my chances here than out in a Drift storm.” The snow is heavier already, a thin layer blanketing the pavement outside. “Anyway, wanna get settled in? 108’s right with the rest of us. Gotta keep an eye on each other, after all. Hard to say who’s a mimic and who’s not.”

You frown. A mimic wouldn’t waste that much food.

The woman is friendly, at least, and endlessly talkative. She’s a University graduate. She’s been living in Splitrock Junction for the past few years, testing the water and soil for “intrusional particles,” but she’s looking for a career change. “Anchorware! That’s where the money’s at,” she tells you. “That’s the future of the Drift, you know. It’s caught on in all the major industries but it’ll get more affordable later. The lab where they build that stuff makes the University look Stone Age. God, if I could get my hands on some of that equipment…”

You barely say a word as she leads you outside and across the parking lot to the adjacent building. Four rooms are occupied in a row, lights on, muffled voices coming through the doors. You walk up in time to catch part of a conversation—an argument, more accurately. They’re talking about mimics.

“So you’re telling me the one that’s see-through and foggy like frosted glass isn’t called a glass mimic?”

“Glass mimics are literally made of glass, man. Or something kind of like it. It shatters if you hit it hard enough.”

“Kind of like it? So they’re not actually made of glass. They don’t even resemble glass.”

“I didn’t name them, okay?”

The woman pauses to knock on 106. “We’ve got another,” she says.

106 opens just slightly, the door halting on a chain lock. The face that peers out at you is obscured by a surgical mask and a pair of sunglasses. “Shit, Chatterbox made it back in one piece,” he mutters. “So either it left you alone or you’re the mimic.” The doors on either side of him creak open. A man pokes his head outside of 105, looking nonplussed. Nobody comes out of 107 but you hear a quiet huff, a quick exhale of laughter.

“Well, this is all of us,” the woman says. “We’re a little short on trust right now so you’ll have to settle for nicknames. That’s Newbie in 105. He’s from outside. Like, outside, you know?”

“Outside the Drift?” you ask, startled.

Newbie frowns. He’s blond and clean-shaven, wearing an open suit jacket and loosened tie. “Couldn’t we have picked our own nicknames? God, it’s freezing all of the sudden.”

“This totally normal, not at all suspicious guy lurking in 106 is Glasses.”

“Bite me,” Glasses snarls. “Half the mimics out here copy faces. You’re not getting mine.”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Shrug is in 107. He’s kinda quiet. Second most likely to be a mimic, if we’re making accusations.”

107’s door opens slightly wider. The man standing there doesn’t show his face, keeping his head down and his hood up, hands stuffed in the pockets of an oversized sweater. He’s on the shorter side. “Hm,” he says, and shrugs.

“And I guess I’m Chatterbox.” The woman laughs. “I’m in 104. The walls are really, really thin, we mostly just yell at each other. Nobody else around so it’s not like we’re bothering anyone.”

You unlock 108 and find a small, musty-smelling room. There’s stiff, crusty carpet, a single bed with sheets that feel like packing paper, and a closet-sized bathroom. You put your backpack on the bedside table and add the Drift Inn to your map.

“So what are we calling you, stranger?” Chatterbox yells. She’s right, the walls are really thin. Four rooms down and you can still hear her fairly clearly.

“Courier,” you say back.

The wind picks up outside, growing from a whisper to a vicious howl. You peek through your curtains and find your footsteps in the snow have nearly been filled in already as more blows across the motel parking lot. You scan the row of cars parked out front apprehensively. The one you saw in the blizzard was an SUV, you think. Silver. Hard to make out in the haze and all the white. You don’t see it out there now. You’d like to tell yourself that those two things can’t possibly be related, but there’s a corpse behind the check-in desk, beaten so badly the face barely looked human.

You don’t want to think about it. You let the curtains fall back into place and sit on the edge of the bed. “Newbie, you’re from outside the Drift?” you ask. “What made you decide to come here?”

You hear him clear his throat nervously. “I’m doing market research, you could say. There’s a lot of interest in developing the Drift, getting it connected to the rest of the world. You guys are missing out on a lot of things. Phones are only local, right, so you can’t call Prismville from the University. And mail takes forever since you don’t really have a reliable delivery service. Uh. No offense, I mean.”

“Didn’t some outsider company already try getting a foothold here a while back?” That sounds like Glasses. “Like a decade ago or something. Putting all those cables in the ground, then acting surprised when they got fucked up after a couple shifts.”

“Ohhh, that’s right! They started growing skin and then they all slithered off,” Chatterbox says.

“Is that what those are?” you ask. “I’ve seen those before. They’re farm pests, mostly. They really like eggs.”

“Mhm,” Shrug adds.

“Can I ask about that? What’s up with the eggs?” Newbie says. “Why are they everywhere? I keep seeing people eat them raw, shell and all.”

Chatterbox laughs. “So those aren’t actually eggs.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“No, I mean, they look just like eggs, right? So we call them eggs.”

“Oh, so these get called by what they look like, huh?”

“Okay, look, there are different kinds of shifts, right? Depending on how things are intersecting, or if they’re intersecting at all, and sometimes—”

The wind shrieks and the windows shake in their frames. Snow drifts under your door, melting on the carpet. Through the space beneath the curtains, all you see is white. “It’s getting bad out there,” Glasses says quietly.

“I, ah, thought the Drift didn’t get snow?” Newbie asks.

“It doesn’t,” Chatterbox says. “Unless the Road Ripper’s around.”

There’s a pause. You’re holding your breath. Glasses is the first one to speak up again, scoffing, “That shit’s an urban legend. Nobody could live out on the road that long.”

“Hm,” Shrug agrees. Or maybe disagrees. You’re not sure.

“What if he doesn’t, though? What if he does come into town sometimes, drifts in and out before anyone realizes who he is?” Chatterbox insists. “It’d be easy. He could slip out with some couriers and nobody’d know. Maybe he is a courier.”

There’s another, longer pause. “Wh—really?” you say, incredulous. “I’m not a serial killer.”

Chatterbox makes a thoughtful sound. “Well, a serial killer would probably say that.”

“I was the last one here! How could I have killed somebody?”

“Not saying you did it, just saying maybe you should leave first in the morning,” Glasses mutters.

The idea of falling asleep here unnerves you, but your car won’t be warm enough. You consider shoving a chair under the door. It’s flimsy, certainly nothing that’ll deter somebody hellbent on killing on you—somebody with the kind of strength you saw—but you’ll hear it fall over at least. You take a quick shower and crawl into bed, too tired to care how stiff the mattress is. The others are loud but the wind drowns them out after a while and the conversation dies down.

Maybe you won’t sleep, you think. You’ll just lay here on your side, facing the door and the windows. Listening for footsteps in the snow, or a car pulling up. Just a few hours, you think, checking the clock. A few hours until dawn, at least. Maybe the blizzard will have moved on by then. You try to keep yourself moving, shaking your foot or tapping your fingers. The room is frigid, the heat barely able to keep up with the cold air seeping under the door, but exhaustion is slowly gaining on you. It becomes a struggle to keep your eyes open.

“…I heard that’s a thing he does,” Chatterbox is saying, sounding muffled and far away. “He picks somebody and follows them around for a while, but he lets them go a few times before he actually kills them. And it’s not like he just leaves other people alone, but that’s kind of different. It’s like he’s whetting his appetite or something. Picks off other people so can hold himself back from whoever his main target is. Maybe it’s a mimic thing? Do you think he shapeshifts? I had a friend back at University who specialized in mimics, I think some of them do similar stuff…”

Your eyelids flutter. Just a few hours, you remind yourself. A few hours and then…

You can’t breathe.

It’s dark, a deeper black than night in every direction, and you can’t breathe. There’s something—something around your neck. Squeezing too tight. Wanting to split you open, wanting to tear into the soft flesh of your throat. It wants to, yet it never does. But even when it lets you go, uncoiling slowly, slinking out of sight, your lungs are on fire. You heave and you choke and you try to scream but you can’t get any air, can’t breathe. You can’t remember how.

There’s something in this darkness with you. You can’t see it but you can hear it breathing in deep, echoing sighs. You can sense its vastness, the crushing weight of its attention. You’re trying to run but your legs are weak and sluggish, flailing, going nowhere. The air ripples and it’s here, above and all around you. Silent. Observing. Your neck throbs where it touched you, skin tender and throbbing with your heartbeat, and still you can’t breathe.

There is a dark moon above you. It’s a misshapen pearl, a silvery stone with a hole punched through its center. It’s growing as it sinks from the sky. It’s bigger than you, bigger than your car, so close you think you could reach out and touch it.

It blinks.

You gasp and jolt awake. It must be morning. Weak light trickles under the curtains. You’re cold, but not as cold as you were last night. The stench of blood is thick and cloying. Your door is open, the chair you wedged under it knocked aside.

You sit up slowly. The room is red. Every breath draws in the smell of rust and rot. There’s hardly a surface in the room that hasn’t been spattered in gore. The walls are glistening with it. There are dark red puddles hardening into the carpet. The bedspread is soaked through beside you because there is a body there, posed atop the sheets as though it climbed into bed with you. It doesn’t have a face, just a head so badly bludgeoned that it could be a split pomegranate, soft and gooey and oozing chunks of meat through cracks in its skull.

It’s wearing a peacoat, gray wool spattered with blotchy red stains.

You scramble out of bed, lunging for your shoes. The carpet is so saturated it squishes wetly under your steps. There’s another body curled up at the foot of the bed in the same unsightly condition, intact except for the gristly paste where a head should be. Blood and brain matter spill across the floor in a pinkish smear, bits of vertebrae poking through the taut, torn flesh of the neck. Newbie’s tie is half-submerged in the slurry, tightened into an uncomfortably small knot.

The third corpse is propped up against the door, seated with its back against it. You shove it aside. You try not to look. But you see red, you see a scalp split apart and a broken shell of skull fragments underneath, little white slivers floating in a soupy clot. A gush of thick, partially coagulated fluid spurts out when it thunks against the ground in your haste to leave, dislodging the sunglasses folded neatly in its lap.

The morning air is crisp. It’s just cold enough that some of the snow has stayed, the shallow layer left revealing the spotted prints of snowboots, a trail of blood, and smooth drag marks. Every door is wide open, a mess of red slush inside. The gruesome trail wanders out of your room and then rounds the corner, vanishing into a section of the parking lot you never thought to check. Nothing is parked there now but you still feel nauseous with fear.

Strangely, 107’s snow is clean. You notice as you’re leaving, starting your car, headlights flashing into the open rooms. Everything else is slick and splattered, dark red puddles frozen to the bed, except 107—the room right next to yours. The footprints, you notice, come out of that room clean. They go only in one direction; only leaving.

You try desperately to remember Shrug’s face but you never saw it. He was careful, keeping his head angled down and his gaze lowered. Maybe it’s just hindsight, fear coloring your memories, but thinking back, you thought he might’ve had a small smile on his face when you looked at him.

(next)

#rotpeach writes #goretober #the drift

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contentment-of-cats · 3 months

Text

Here we go-

We are actually getting the curled tail of the storm in the PNW going all the way down to AZ. Nothing here but some unexpected rain and greyness, though we are looking at a storm system moving in Friday night and staying until Tuesday.

The previous weather systems screwed up everything from power and phone service east from Utah, and shipping is just starting to get back on its wheels. There are still a lot of places serviced by FedEx and UPS that have no service, and where it's not safe for semis carrying LTL to go. It get there when it gets there at this point.

Boss has strep, went to the urgent care last night when it felt like he 'swallowed glass and chased it with gasoline.' Told to stay home. His swabs should be in tomorrow and they can change his antibiotics then. He's thinking of postponing some events planned for February in hopes the wild winter dies down sometime in March.

I have signed up for the Golden Treadmill again. One ghost-written porn novel every six weeks. Apparently the breakneck pace of one per month was to clear a backlog of novels that they tried to have written by AI and could not. Writers couldn't even fix them, the product was that bad, and it was cheaper to round up some freelancers. The outline lands in my inbox on February 1. AI can do a lot of things, but it apparently can't write in long formats and definitely can't write porn. I'll write eight this year and that will retire the medical debt, then start replenishing the savings. If I do eight next year, that will being me back to level. Here's hoping.

Mom's birthday is in two weeks, and it's so strange not to have her here. Even the children of Cluster B parents want to love them and to be loved by them. At the end of her life, there were startling episode of clarity, where she said that she hurt me, that she wasn't a good mother, and that she was sorry. Terminal lucidity is a well-documented phenomenon, but it's still startling to experience. I'm glad that she could experience it, and hope it gave her some peace.

I suppose Mothers Day and her anniversary will be as strange. My birthday is coming around that time, too. I joked after she died that she found a way to make that about her, too. The literal ultimate narc move. However, she suffered with dementia, knowing that 'my mind is dying.' I'm glad she didn't have to miss a birthday this year.

I have my last scan for the year (I hope) next week. After the last week of the month, my labs go to every eight weeks. I want to hope that remission continues, but I also want to be a realist. It's walking the tightrope.

I will have news of the cat distribution system later.

#life in general

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resowrites · 2 years

Text

Sherlock Holmes: The Winding Sheet Part 3 (finale)

Summary: Amelia Bainbridge is urgently seeking the assistance of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, so that she might finally understand what caused her brothers mysterious death six months ago. At first the facts are scant and Mr. Holmes dismisses the case as unworthy of his time. But then Amelia mentions a curious detail and suddenly, the game is afoot…

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (I envisioned Henry’s version but the story could apply to Rathbone right through to Cumberbatch), OC!Amelia Bainbridge, Mrs. Hudson, OC characters.

Warnings: adult/dark themes such as murder, occasional threat of violence/danger, some period misogyny, angsty, mentions of sickness and death, lightly beta’d.

WC: 2394

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! No copyright infringement intended, gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Part 3:

Mr. Holmes strode back into the bedroom with renewed purpose. Having already examined it from top to toe, he was sure that if there was an external cause of Mr. Bainbridge's death, it would now be visible. The curtains were tied back, the bed had been made and the washstand fitted out with a pitcher and bowl. But Mr. Holmes was more concerned with the desk. He pulled back its chair, almost knocking over the bedclothes laid over its back for Miss Bainbridge, and quickly scanned its surface. Some paper and a pot of ink were carefully positioned in the middle but otherwise, the desk was bare. He hastily opened each draw, his hope for what he wished to discover rapidly fading. And then he saw them. Quickly, he lifted one up to his nose and sniffed. The scent was faint but unmistakable. He hurriedly packed them away in his suit pocket, and took one final look at the ceiling just to be sure. He then turned to smile at Amelia.

"Well Miss Bainbridge, I believe we have done all we can for the moment... if you'll escort me out..." they then quickly headed back downstairs, taking care not to slam any doors or tread too heavily. When they'd finally reached the front door, Mr. Holmes did his best to provide reassurance. "Fear not Miss Bainbridge... I believe you will be quite safe. A word of warning, however... if you are offered more light sometime this evening, in whatever form, accept but do not use it. Stay in your room if possible and go straight to bed. If you care to visit me one final time tomorrow... I believe I can explain everything. Good day to you." He smiled at her briefly before departing, feeling no small amount of relief that his presence seemed to have gone unnoticed. This however was far from the case, Mr. Thomas peered carefully from the edge of the curtain he'd pulled aside, immediately recognising the silhouette of the man who was fleeing from his house.

Later that day.

Mr. Holmes contemplated his next steps carefully. Of course, he could conduct the experiment back at Baker Street, but it would likely produce a lot of smoke and that would most certainly annoy Mrs. Hudson. Then again if he headed to St. Barts, he may not get the answers he needed quickly enough. He gambled on being able to convince Dr. Michael Stamford to allow him the use of some equipment for a couple of hours or more. Dr. Stamford, an old and dear friend of Dr. Watson's, similarly held Mr. Holmes in high regard and was usually happy to help in any way he could with his cases. Fortunately, Mr. Holmes found him hunched over several textbooks in an otherwise deserted lab. "Ah... Stamford, I am sorry to drop by unannounced but I have an urgent matter to investigate. Would you permit me the use of some of your equipment?" Dr. Stamford almost jumped at the sound of his voice but soon laughed heartily and scurried his way to the far less jovial detective.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes! How wonderful to see you, sir! I trust you are well? Is Dr. Watson not with you?" While Mr. Holmes appreciated that there were always going to be those who went through life in a jolly and otherwise unfazed manner, he couldn't quite bring himself to mimic such behaviour.

"Sadly not, the good doctor is away on sabbatical though he will return to Baker Street soon. Tell me Stamford, do you have any sulphuric ether?" The doctor's face became confused, not quite understanding why such a chemical would be needed.

"I can certainly attempt to round some up, why on earth do you need such a substance?" Mr. Holmes simply smiled and led the doctor over to a table piled high with various tubes and scientific apparatus.

Sometime that evening.

Miss Bainbridge had elected to spend the rest of the day outdoors, the events of that afternoon had left her nerves rattled though she was grateful Mr. Holmes had managed to get into the house twice without being seen. She felt unusually apprehensive about the oncoming night, though she tried to reassure herself that as long as she followed his advice, she would be safe from whatever dirty tricks she was sure her stepfather had in mind. Eventually, she gave up the struggle of trying to read while her mind was otherwise preoccupied and decided to retire to bed. Chills ran up her spine as she entered her brother's old bedroom, though there was nothing that singled it out from any other room in the house, he'd still died there and Amelia was dreadfully afraid of the same fate befalling her.

Although she was loathe to send her mind racing any further by dwelling on Mr. Holmes, she couldn't stop herself from walking over to the desk to see what had him so transfixed. But there was nothing out of the ordinary, the drawers were still empty and all that remained on top was the paper and ink. She decided she may as well catch up on some correspondence, her friend Fanny would want to hear all about her meeting with Mr. Holmes - especially how handsome he was. Amelia smiled as she sank into the chair and began scribbling away, aware that the light was fading and she'd soon have to go to sleep. About ten minutes into her task, she heard a faint knock at the door. "Come..." she remained focused on the letter, smiling from ear to ear at how she'd managed to describe Mr. Holmes’s thick brown curls. That smile quickly disappeared from her face when she turned to see her stepfather standing in the doorway. "Ah... father, what is it?" He smiled an evil little smile and took the liberty of stepping into the room.

"My dear, I'm glad to see your headache is better. I believe the maid neglected to bring you some candles. Here, you'll be able to write much more easily..." Amelia tried to keep her expression neutral.

"Yes it is getting rather dark in here, thank you, Father." He left the candles and matches on her bedside table before smiling once again and departing. Once she was sure he'd gone, Amelia got up and turned them over in her hands. They were just regular candles, she didn't know why Mr. Holmes had warned her not to use any but she simply shrugged and decided to finish her letter the following morning. She stretched, went over to lock the bedroom door, and got changed into her bedclothes.

The following morning.

Amelia almost missed her stop she was so tired. She quickly excused herself after having fallen asleep on some random gentleman's shoulder and hurried onto the platform. She'd only got a few hours' sleep she was so anxious about surviving the night. Nothing unusual seemed to have happened barring another visit from stepfather near midnight. He'd let himself into the room to make sure she hadn't fallen asleep with the candles burning - or so he said. But he was surprised to look over and find none had even been lit. She'd groggily dismissed him and Mr. Thomas fled the room, his picture a face of anger. At least now she knew he had another key and would probably attempt to enter her room again. Such thoughts filled her with dread and she could only hope Mr. Holmes had good news for her.

The sun was high in the sky that morning and it promised to be a particularly hot day. Fortunately Baker Street seemed much cooler. The morning room had all the curtains drawn and though the air was thick with pipe smoke, she'd rather be there than in the scorching streets. "Ah, Miss Bainbridge... how good of you to join me. Please, sit." She followed his command, eager for him to reveal the cause of her months long nightmare. "Well, it seems I have managed to clear this little mess up." He then threw the same candles that had been in her room, onto the coffee table between them. Amelia stared at him confused.

"The candles? They caused my brother's death?" Although Mr. Holmes often felt impatient at such moments, he could see why the young woman would be confused.

"In a manner of speaking... yes. You see your case struck me as particularly unremarkable at first. But when you mentioned the locked windows, it seemed to me that there must have been something placed in your brother's room that depended on them being kept shut." Amelia still didn't quite follow him but she continued to listen carefully. "When you mentioned your stepfather was an importer, my first port of call was the dockyards. I have a contact there who keeps an eye on any strange or unusual imports for me..." Again, she was confused.

"Forgive me Mr. Holmes, but how would candles qualify as an unusual import?" He smiled at her briefly.

"They wouldn't... except these are not regular candles as you have no doubt realised. And had I not been looking for them, they most likely would have escaped everyone's attention altogether." She had to admit she felt defeated. The situation was no clearer to her now than it had been before she even visited Mr. Holmes. "Some decades ago Miss Bainbridge, an inventor in France stumbled upon a way to make candles cheaper and more effective. It involved the mixing of arsenious acid into stearine wax..." Amelia's expression turned horrified.

"Arsenic! Good lord, it can't be... how on earth did my stepfather get his hands on that?" It was a perfectly fair question though one Mr. Holmes could only surmise.

"Given that he is an importer, one would imagine your stepfather has an array of contacts who could source for him any item he requires. However, given that 'corpse candles' are now banned throughout France and elsewhere, it would seem your stepfather had these specially made. I am still tracing the precise manufacturer though I have already alerted my colleagues in France." Amelia felt her sense of indignation rise, only her stepfather could be capable of something so dreadful.

"But Mr. Holmes... they look like ordinary candles, are you sure they're what killed my brother?" He hated being questioned in such a way. He was always economical with words and wouldn't have confirmed his suspicions unless they were correct.

"I am quite sure Miss Bainbridge. Another colleague of mine was able to help me conduct the necessary experiments yesterday afternoon. As soon as the fatty portion of the candle dissolved in sulphuric ether, the arsenious acid was precipitated for collection. We estimated about four grains of arsenic per candle, about the usual amount." Amelia could hardly believe what she was hearing. It was a horrendously insidious and ugly way to murder someone. For a while, she was lost for words. Mr. Holmes had to proceed cautiously, taking into consideration her obvious grief. "I am sorry Miss Bainbridge, it was a wicked act and I will help you to seek justice as best I can. I have already contacted the local police and they are seeking Mr. Thomas as we speak. He may try and feign ignorance of such a purchase but once his bespoke order from France is confirmed, he will have little choice but to confess. It will then be down to the jury whether he is committed to prison indefinitely... or hung.” Amelia looked up steadily and he could see the fire in her eyes.

"Mr. Holmes I hardly know what to say... I'm stunned that you would even think to examine something as innocuous as a candle. Tell me, was there any way we could have known?" For a moment he felt sympathy for this troubled young woman.

"Miss Bainbridge, you must not seek to blame yourself. I knew a substance was the cause of your brother's death as otherwise, the autopsy would likely have been far more conclusive. Our means of testing is not perfect and the results are often inaccurate. As murder is also my line of enquiry, I have made it my business to acquaint myself with all manners of killing - from the brutish to the subtle. I have come across few arsenic deaths in recent years as fortunately, the substance has largely fallen out of use. However, it has a peculiar garlic like odour when used in candles... as soon as I held one in my hands I knew that it was likely the cause of your brother's death. I have also taken the liberty of ordering another toxicity report, it does not surprise me that the last autopsy performed was inadequate. Given the large spate of scarlet fever deaths, it was most likely rushed, or only trace elements of the poison were found. That is sometimes the case with sufferers and it makes the job of determining any malicious intent much harder. Fear not though Miss Bainbridge, Mr. Thomas will get his comeuppance. Tell me, did your brother notice any symptoms before his death... any at all?" Amelia had to cast her mind back.

"Well, he complained of headaches... though his eyesight was poor and he regularly suffered with them. He was also drinking far more... but again that could have had any cause. Oh if only he hadn't insisted on reading before bed! This whole nightmare could have been avoided..." tears began to fill her eyes and Mr. Holmes didn't quite know what to do.

"That is doubtful Miss Bainbridge, your stepfather was determined to remove you both from the picture, and had you not contacted me when you did, you would likely have succumbed to the same fate. But you must take heart... your troubles are now over. Mr. Thomas will not darken your doorway again.” And Mr. Holmes was true to his word. Another autopsy confirmed Mr. Bainbridge had been gradually poisoned. Mr. Thomas was swiftly arrested as were his counterparts in France. All the men involved were eventually tried and hung and Miss Bainbridge finally had the peace of mind she'd so longed for. However, she wasn’t quite so carefree again and ordered the sole use of gas from then on, never again was a candle to be bought into her house.

A/N: Hi guys, as a huge Sherlock Holmes fan of both the original stories and the many series/films, it’s my pleasure to present this new short series. This is the final part! I hope you all enjoyed the ending and felt I captured something of the spirit of the original stories. Any feedback is appreciated and I hope you’ll continue to stick around and enjoy stories in the future!

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

#henry cavill #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #sherlock fandom #henry cavill fics

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lavnderkiwi · 2 years

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hello. just wanted to update everyonee cause i've been kinda back and forth with being m.i.a. i've been dealing with a lot of stuff. mainly my anxiety has kicked up again after a year of not being around and so now i'm in a constant loop of worrying about my health (my head has felt weird this past week but i went to the eye doctor and despite my anxiety, i think its my eyes coupled with some sinus issues) and i can't see my primary care doctor until july 5th so now i either have to see if i can switch doctors so i can get a sooner appointment or just hope the issues go away within the next week. (its possible i have covid and just don't know it. i tested negative last week but i'll check again on friday).

my anxiety hasn't flared up in a year so my brain is trying to figure out how to deal with it because i don't have many pills left so yea. (i have a lot of health anxiety mainly. its annoying af.) but anyways, i've just been sleeping or playing story of seasons on my switch and waiting for my glasses to arrive so i can start wearing them. just praying and hoping i'm okay (honestly, i lowkey believe that i am but the human brain is an asshole sometimes).

i've also been apartment/house searching with my bf so thats stressful. mainly to rent because as of right now, neither of us can afford to buy a house. so...yea. thats pretty much the basic update for me.

edit: I also wanted to mention that i did go to urgent care last monday and my blood test came back fine. but again: its best to just overall check and make sure you're good! tomorrow i'll call and see if i can switch primary doctors so i can get checked out sooner!

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theglitterypages · 3 years

Note

#49, #33 and #51 with canonverse!Levi

From prompts 33, 49 and 51.

Prompts List

Levi Masterlist

Title: When Jealousy Kicks In

Pairings: Levi x fem! reader

Summary: Levi is secretly an insecure man, especially when it comes to being a lover, that's why when the two of you started seeing each other he chose to keep the relationship private. He's totally afraid of how people around the two of you would react because deep down inside him he feels like he doesn't deserve you. He's having problems in expressing his feelings but he's trying his best to be the best version of himself for his lover but seeing how other cadets or officers flirt with you he couldn't help but be jealous.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2000+

NOTE: Sorry if it took me so long to respond, I'm a bit busy in school :< hope you'll like this one.

•••••

Levi was quietly standing as he observes you interact with the cadets, your face is stern as you command them.

Levi could clearly see how the Cadets gets distracted whenever you walk past them, he couldn't help but draw in a deep breath, you seem oblivious of how the men in the Scouts sees you. However, every single stare doesn't escape from his sight, the way those ears get red every time you'll approach them and tell them to fix their postures, the way the cadets gets flushed whenever you smile when you see that they're doing a good job in their training.

Levi knows what they feel because he feels the same, despite of being unable to express his feelings for you openly because he chose to keep the relationship private, he still find a way to watch your every move whenever he has the chance.

He already memorized the meaning of those little gestures, you'll tuck some strands of your hair behind your ear with a pout to keep yourself calm and your brows would met whenever you see the cadets slacking off.

He knows you'll bite your lip because you're getting bored and he knows why you're tapping your fingers on the side of your legs whenever you're organizing your paper works.

Levi is shocked of himself, he's surprised of how he was able to memorize those small details but despite of the fact that he knows you too well, he's envious of how other men can openly express their admiration towards you.

He couldn't do that, aside from the fact that he's kind of shy, he never experienced this before and the only time he was able to feel the feeling of being loved, was when his mother was still around.

It's been years of coldness not until you came in his life.

“Captain? Commander Erwin is looking for you.” says Eren.

Levi snapped out of his thoughts and stood up, he gave a nod to the teen before heading to Erwin's office.

“We'll be waiting for Hanji and Captain YN before we proceed.”

Levi lazily sat down on the chair and waited for you, he purposely dragged a chair beside him so he could give you a sign to sit down beside him, hoping he could hold your hand secretly under the table.

When you finally came with Hanji, your eye immediately settled on his gray ones and you let out a small smile after seeing him took a glance on the chair placed on his left, you knew what he wants so you walked towards him and sat on the chair he saved for you.

“Thanks.” you whispered quietly before giving his thigh a gentle tap under the table, Levi hid his smile by looking down on his lap and clearing his throat, Erwin looked at your direction but later on proceeded to his agenda.

“According to Hanji, the experiments that she's been conducting is going well so far. If this would go on we can proceed to our original plan.”

You listened to Erwin's plan, even if you already heard about it. You're just preparing yourself to give some suggestions in case you hear anything that appears to be risky.

But who are you kidding? If it's Erwin everything is risky, you've been working for him for so long yet there are still times where you're left in the dark, not that you mind it but sometimes it pisses you off whenever something changes without you knowing.

Levi on the other hand is getting bored, aside from the fact that he's sleep deprived, Erwin is talking for so long, he actually think that Erwin would've been a priest if he didn't became a commander.

Maybe he will be one once he retired.

To fight the urge of falling asleep, he looked at you in his peripheral vision, he loves how your slightly pouting your lips as you concentrate to Erwin's never ending story telling.

His eyes then traveled down to your lap where you're tapping your fingers in a rhytm he doesn't know about, a small smile made its way across his lips and he looked up to see if everyone is busy listening to Erwin and when he saw that everyone's eyes are on Erwin, he slowly set his hands on top of yours, gently intertwining your fingers.

You were taken aback but when you looked at Levi his eyes was already on Erwin, you'll jusy pretened that you didn't see those blush in his cheeks.

It is not usual for Levi to do something like this but your boyfriend is unpredictable in terms of physical contacts and you don't want him to be more awkward if you would react dramatically.

•••••

When the night came, Levi was almost done in his paper works but he chose to stop working and decided that he'll just do it all tomorrow, just like what he was always doing every night, he secretly made his way to your room and knock for four times.

It is a secret code, you'll know that it's Levi depending on how many knocks you've heard and at that night you were about to sleep because you thought he wouldn't sleep beside you so you were surprised to hear him knock on your door.

When you opened your door, you were greeted by his tired eyes, you immediately reached for his hand and you dragged him inside before closing the door quietly.

You pulled him towards the bed and he sat with a sigh, “Is it fine if I'll sleep here?” you chuckled and nod your head before pressing a kiss on the tip of Levi's nose.

When the two of you decided to lay down on the bed, Levi kept you close in his chest as he caress your hair with his eyes closed.

You couldn't help but be suspicious of his actions, there's something wrong and you can feel it, he's holding you so tight but not enough to hurt you but it is enough to tell you that Levi is in need of some sort of reassurance from you but you have no idea what kind of reassurance it is that he needs.

“Lev, do we have a problem?”

“Brat, what are you talking about?”

“Something's bothering you, I can feel it.” you slowly pushed him away from you, looking up at him with a worried look on your face, “I'm just tired and I need you, is that a problem?” he asked you softly, you froze as you looked in his eyes, trying to see if he's lying.

“I have no clue of what’s bothering you, so can you at least give me a hint?”

“I just...I want you close to me because I need rest.”

“Fine.” you sighed, you hugged him sideways and let your head rest in his broad chest as he hums. “I love you.” he kissed the top of your head and you hugged him tighter with a smile plastered on your lips, “I love you too, Levi.” you responded.

•••

You were the first one to wake up and when you are greeted by Levi's peaceful sleeping figure, you've decided to leave him so he could sleep more.

You knew how Levi couldn't sleep the way other people sleep, his mind is actually much active at night and the responsibility that he bears is also not helping.

That's why you carefully get dressed and when you're done you carefully kissed him in his forehead before walking out of the room.

But the moment you closed the door, you realized that some may see Levi going out of your room and once that happens, everyone will find out that the two of you are seeing each other.

You agreed to keep the relationship secret to avoid interference of other people in your relationship, you were about to go back to your room to wake up Levi but Hanji suddenly appeared, waving at you with a playful smile on her face.

“Oi, Captain. The Cadets are out, except the new Levi squad of course but the whole building is ours.” She laughed loudly and you got worried that Levi might wake up and see what's going on so you immediately drag Hanji away from your room.

“We should prepare for breakfast!” you told her nervously, Hanji frowned at you for a moment but she later on smiled, she loves the food you cook so she really want to see you prepare breakfast, thank goodness she didn't notice your awkwardness.

•••

“Captain L/N, Captain Levi is asking for your presence.” Armin walked towards you with a smile, you pat the blonde teen's head and proceeded to make your way to Levi's office.

You don't have to knock on his office, Levi wouldn't mind it at all.

When you opened the door of his office, his eyes immediately shot upwards and he met your gaze, a small smirk formed in the corner of his lips and you frowned as you sat at the chair across his before leaning forward to give him a quick kiss on his lips.

“So? What’s so urgent that you had to call me so early in the morning?” you teased.

“I just wanted to see you again.”

You were the one frozen in your seat at how natural those words escaped from his lips, Levi smiled at you and his eyes went back to his paper works.

“And it's not early, you didn't wake me up before you go.”

You pouted and reached out for his face, you caged his face inside your hands and slightly pinch both his cheeks.

“Sorry, you look so peaceful earlier and I knew that you're so tired Lev.”

Levi's expression softened as he look at you, he didn't mind sleeping for a long time if it's your order but he's disappointed that he didn't get to see you first thing in the morning, he slowly took your hands off his face, he placed the files on top of his table on the right side before he looked at you.

“Sit on my lap.”

You stood up to comply to his orders and when you've got to sit on his lap, he kept you close to his chest, his hands caressing every parts of your body that he could reach.

As much as you love the attention and the way he's doing it, you realized that Levi is extra sweet and more clingy than usual. You looked up at the raven haired man with your brows furrowed, your hands rested on his chest.

“Did you do anything wrong, Levi? Is there anything you wanna tell me?”

“Yes..”

"What is it? I swear Levi Acker—”

“I love you.”

It's official, your heart has died because of too much affection and love from your man.

You blinked for a few times before slapping his chest, "I love you too but I know that something is wrong, so please can you tell me? We promised not to keep secrets right?” Levi looked down at you and you see how different emotions flashed through his gray eyes.

Levi was amazed of how well you knew him, sometimes it really feels like you can read his mind and as silly as it sounds, he kinda believes that it is because you're destined for him.

“I just want to be better for you. I want to be a good lover.”

“Ahuh? You're not my Levi, bring back my Levi you imposter!”

“What do you mean?" He asked softly.

You gasped and stood up from his lap, while pointing your finger at him. “You—You've changed.” you told him.

Levi looked down on his lap, specifically on his hands placed on top of his lap as he recalled how you were talking with the married scouts while feeding the horses.

Flashback

“Ralph, how's your lovely wife?” you asked as you gently pet the horse in front of you.

“Still a happy wife, Cap. I spent the week off on our house, just the two of us catching up.”

You nodded knowingly and proceeded to feed the horse, when you were done you looked back at Ralph and pat him in his back proudly.

“That's a real man, never forget to give love and affection to your wives my dear comrades. That's the key to a happy marriage.”

“How about you, Captain? You're still not saying yes to one of your suitors? You probably have high standards don't you?”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, of course they had no idea that you're already seeing Levi but you decided to share something about yourself. “I don't ask for much, I just need someone who would take care of me, someone to talk to and a lover who's also a great companion.”you proudly stated, the soldiers around you nodded in agreement and clapped their hands.

“There are many men on the queue, Captain.”

••••

“I'm not the man that you want that's why I'm trying to—”

You had to cut him off by kissing his lips, Levi's eyes widened but he wrapped his arms around your waist and pull you to his lap, you ran your hands through his raven hair before pulling away with a smile. “I was describing you, Lev. Before you became my lover you were my companion and till now you never fail to take care of me. Don't overthink because I love you.” you looked in his eyes and you saw how it glistened.

“I realized how I could be cold most of the time and I want to...I want to change myself so I could be deserving for your love.”

“You've always been deserving and I don't want you to change because I love you as you but I want to ask a favor.”

Levi held your hand and kissed the back of it before looking straight into your eyes as he waits for the next thing you would say. “Spill it.” he whispered.

“Just keep me close and don't let me go.”

“You don't have to tell me that.” he smirked before leaning forward to press his lips against yours, his hands went back to your hips, pressing you against him as he let out a sound you never heard from him before.

You raked your hands through his hair as you gasped after you felt him bite your lower lip, he took it as an opportunity and dart his tongue forward, exploring the territory that still feels new despite of the fact that he's already explored the insides of your mouth a lot of times already.

It was time to pull away for both of you to breathe and Levi's chest rose and fell while a smile is written all over his face.

“Marry me.”

Your mouth gaped open in surprise as you feel tears started forming at the corner of your eyes. “I would love to but why is it so..sudden? You're scaring me.” a low chuckle escaped from his lips and he licked his lower lip as he look at you.

His eyes was just like the night where he confessed to you, just like the time where you first kissed him on his lips.

“I can't see you with any other man, I would die once that happens and I wouldn't want any other woman to bear my child. I love you, I love you so much so marry me? I can give you time to think about it.”

“I wouldn't want anyone else to be my husband Levi.”

Levi smiled as he pulled you close to his chest he hummed happily as he caress your back, “In the middle of my endless battle and nightmares I find my peace by your side. Despite of the fact that I'm used to cold I still seek for your warmth.” Levi has always been a man who's not afraid to face his everyday alone, he had nothing to lose—once had nothing to lose but ever since you came into his life, he found himself coming back to you to feel your warmth, to remind himself why he has to fight, he keeps on coming back to you to find peace.

In the world full of chaos, he found his peace and it is you all along. He looked down at your hands Intertwined in his and he couldn't help but smile of how your hands fits in his as if it was made for him. As a smile made its way into his lips he showered kisses on the top of your head and you giggled.

Levi frowned as he playfully poked your sides. “Don't you laugh at me brat. I just want to make sure that you know how I feel.” you slowly moved away from him and smirked as an idea popped inside your head.

You really have to avoid a deeper conversation because you might end up crying, the words he said are too powerful to ignore but maybe you'll cry about it when you're alone.

“Believe me, I do. Bring back my grumpy Levi, now. I miss his insults.”

“I don't want to. You'll end up sulking asking me to break up with you.”

“I'm not marrying you anymore.”

“See? I didn't even start.”

#levi x reader #aot fanfiction #aot x y/n #aot x you #captain levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi x y/n #snk levi #levi ackerman fluff #aot levi #levi x you #aot x reader #aot fic

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imagineyourworld-old · 3 years

Text

The Duchess and the Captain (Part Two)

Rex x Fem!Duchess!Reader

Summary: You get to know your husband, Duke Palpatine, and quickly realize what you will be missing in your marriage. Can Captain Rex make you feel better?

Warnings: Mentions of smut (maybe slight smut, I don’t really know, sex is not forced on the reader but expected of her and therefore might be triggering to some, but no detailed descriptions)

Previous Part, Masterlist

-------

The next few days passed you by in a heartbeat. You spend most of your time getting acquainted with your new home, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. In addition to the main house there was the orangerie, a small tea parlor in the park and two different gardens just for afternoon strolls. And of course the stables, houses for servants, barracks for the guards and so many other building you didn’t even try to remember.

“You really are lucky”, your mother sighed with a content smile.

The two of you were strolling through the rose garden behind the house, the smaller of the two gardens. It was beautiful, everything was well kept and every flower had its place, but every time you were here you felt out of place. Confined to your life, trapped like the birds that Padmé had told you your husband insisted to keep locked in cages in the garden.

“I will be sad to leave you, but I really do need to get back to your father and brother. Now that you’re happily married it’s Edward’s turn and finding him a wife will be a lot more challenging than finding you a husband, you know how stubborn he can be.”

Though you tried you couldn’t really listen to your mother. All she talked about was how lucky you were to be married to the Duke, how happy she was for you and how excited you must be to see your husband again tomorrow.

You let your gaze sweep through the garden until it halted at General Skywalker. The General had been following whenever you set foot outside the house, and even inside he was never far. The first time you met he had told you that those were your husband’s wishes, that he was only there to keep you safe, but part of you feared he might be reporting your every move back to the Duke. Even the smile the General send you could not easy your suspicions.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Finally your mother’s word rang through to you.

“I’m sorry. I’m just... lost in my thoughts...”

Your mother put a reassuring hand on your arm. You leaned into the familiar touch, a small piece of home in this strange new place.

“Are you thinking of your husband? Do you miss him very much?”

Sometimes you were sure your mother had to be joking. She must realize that you didn’t love, didn’t even like, Palpatine. And it wasn’t just the age difference, which in itself made every interaction with him awkward, he was just so cold. It was obvious he cared as little for you as you did for him and that might have been what bothered you most. You had been more or less forced to marry him, for his money, his title and because no one else had asked to marry you, but he could have had anyone. Half the girls in the country would have married him in an instant, so why did he choose someone he didn’t have any feelings for? Why did he waste his one chance at happiness and propose to you?

“I... I was just thinking that our marriage might not be as it should. We’re nothing like you and father”, you finally said, hoping this would both voice your concerns and not be too obvious about them. But your mother just laughed.

“Darling, that is normal. Relationships take time and work, your father and I didn’t instantly fall in love, but when you’re raising a family together and spending your lives together love will come. And you are so easy to love, it will be alright.”

You should have known your mother would not understand your concerns, she had never shared your dreams of marrying for love, of being swept off your feet in a fairytale like romance. Before you could pretend to agree with her, however, you were interrupted.

Obi-Wan came to a halt before you. He inclined his head in a small bow before addressing you and your mother.

“Your Grace, my lady, the Duke has returned and wishes to see you.”

At first you thought, though you knew it was wishful thinking, that he was talking about another Duke. Maybe one of your husband’s friends had come to visit and wanted to meet you for the first time. But you knew you would have had to face Palpatine, even if he was a day early.

“Thank you, Kenobi. Thought I would like to change before greeting my husband. If you would be so kind as to send Padmé up to my room.

The butler nodded.

“Certainly, my lady.”

-------

Half an hour later you were sitting in the drawing room with your husband.

“I take it the house is to your liking”, he said.

Those were the first words either of you had spoken since your “Good afternoon” ten minutes earlier.

You sat your cup down on the saucer and smiled at him. A smile you hoped seemed happy and sincere.

“Very much, thank you.”

Silence took hold of you again. You refrained from playing with your spoon or the hem of your dress, two of your nervous habits your mother had told you a thousand times to drop.

You looked around the beautiful room. The curtains were moving ever so slightly in the wind that came through the open windows, one of your husband’s ancestors was staring at you from the huge portray above the fire place, his eyes seemed to follow your every move.

“I will only be here one night. Urgent business calls me away my estate in Naboo tomorrow, technically I should not even be spending the night and go there right away, but I suppose we should get to work.”

You turned away from the picture to look at the Duke. He was staring at you with an unreadable expression in his cold eyes, so cold and calculating, they almost made you shiver.

“I’m not sure I understand”, you said, hating how weak and uncertain you sounded. “What ‘work’ are you referring to?”

For a moment your husband’s masked moved as he looked at you in shock. You hated how he could make you feel dumb and inferior without saying a single word, but you knew it was not your place to say anything about that.

“I am of course talking about producing an heir.”

Now you couldn’t stop the shiver. You knew you had to give your husband an heir, multiple if possible, but part of you had hoped he would forget all about that part of your marriage after your wedding night. But you knew your duty and you had heard more than enough stories about women who refused their husbands, or even had lovers, and the terrible things that happened to them and no matter how much you didn’t want to, you would rather get it over with than suffer the same fate.

“Yes, I... of course. I am looking forward to it.”

Another cold glance from Palpatine and the very forced smile fell from your lips.

“It is not for you to look forward to or to enjoy, it’s is your duty.”

All you managed to do was nod. What else were you supposed to do? Where you supposed to answer anything?

Palpatine seemed content with your reaction though. He placed his tea on the small table between you and got up.

“One more thing”, he said as he reached the door. “I will be taking General Skywalker with me from now on, there were some... disputes the last couple of days and I will be needing more protection. Captain Rex will be your personal guard from now on.”

Without so much as a goodbye he left the drawing room and closed the door behind him.

With a loud sigh you leaned back on the couch, ignoring where your corset dug into your ribs uncomfortably. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“It’s just one night, he’ll be gone again tomorrow”, you whispered, knowing that it might just be one night this time, but that your husband would always come back for more and there was nothing you could to to stop him.

“My lady, are you alright?”

You hadn’t heard anyone entering the room, but even without looking you recognized the familiar voice. Though the words were professional, the tone made it clear that Rex wasn’t just asking because it was expected of him, he really cared, at least to some degree.

You opened your eyes to find his own focused on your face, an uncertain look in them, as if he wanted to step closer but didn’t dare to.

“No”, you whispered.

Abruptly you sat up straight again. Panic flooded through your veins. You were supposed to say “I’m fine”, not tell anyone, especially a guard, a servant, that you were not alright.

“Is there something I can do?”

Now the Captain really did take a step towards you. He wasn’t close exactly, definitely not as close has he had been that night in the kitchen, but you could have sworn you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes and smell a mixture of leather, horses and something you could only describe as sunshine.

You shook your head. There was nothing he, or anyone, could do. You had gotten yourself into this situation, and not just the having to sleep with the Duke part, but the whole entire marriage. Though it had been expected of you, you could have declined his offer. Your mother would have been disappointed, your father mad, but they would have come to accept your choice.

After taking another deep breath you decided it was time to get up. But for some reason even something as simple as standing seemed like an impossible deed right now. The Captain instantly noticed your struggle. He stepped even closer, close enough for you to take his hand when he offered it to help you up.

His skin was rough, making it obvious you were holding the hand of a guard, someone who saddled horses and shot guns all day, but that roughness felt realer than any of the soft fabrics you had touched all your life.

You knew you should let go the moment you were on your feet, you knew what this would look like should anyone walk in on you, but your thumb seemed to have a mind of its own when it started softly stroking the Captain’s hand.

He let out a sound that was something between a sigh and a growl while tensing and relaxing within a single second. At first you feared you had overstepped a boundary, a personal that is, because this was without question overstepping any professional boundaries. Your eyes had been focused on your hands, but you slowly lifted them to meet his gaze. The Captain’s eyes were darker than they had been just moments before, but there was an warmth in them you had not seen before.

“You know”, you whispered in a soft voice as not to interrupt the moment. “I feel better already.”

And you really did. The guard’s touch and the warmth in his eyes made you feel more comfortable, more relaxed, than you had been for days.

He opened his mouth, closed it again and then cleared his throat. His voice was deeper than it had been moments before and it made your body tense in unfamiliar places.

“I’m glad.”

It seemed as if he wanted to add something when the door burst open.

“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Skywalker needs your help, he lost something and keeps mumbling about how you’re his only hope”, the intruder, another guard you recognized as Rex’s brother Fives, exclaimed.

You hadn’t noticed the Captain had let go of your hand until he took a step back. His cheeks were slightly darker than they had been before, but his expression hasn’t changed.

It was only then, when the blonde moved away from you, that his brother realized you were even in the room. He shot the Captain a look you could not read, no matter how much you wanted to, before bowing slightly.

“Your Grace, I did not see you there.”

A soft laugh found its way out of you. You couldn’t help but instantly like Fives. He was more relaxed than his brother, though they shared a light in their eyes that told you how much alike they could be.

“It’s alright, Fives.”

The guard’s eyes widened in shock.

“You know my name?”

“Your brother told you a bit about you, about your other brothers as well. I myself am very close to my older brother Edward, so... Sorry, I... I should probably stop talking.”

The times your mother had told you not to discuss family with anyone, especially servants, came to your mind and after already breaking protocol with the Captain earlier you though it best to be quiet.

Fives didn’t seem to notice your awkwardness as his eyes moved between you and his brother, which you, on the other hand, didn’t notice.

“We should get to General Skywalker then”, the Captain finally said, interrupting the silence.

With a nod, a “Good day, my lady” and a bow Fives left the room. His brother followed, but turned around to face you once more.

“I hope you’ll feel better soon”, he said with a smile. A smile that told you that he didn’t regret what had happened between the two of you earlier.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you felt the same and tried to show it in your next words.

“Thank you, Rex.”

This time he heard you calling him by his name, the most beautiful sound he had heard in his life. But instead of closing the distance between you again, to touch your hand one last time before returning to his duty, he just bowed and hurried to leave the room.

-------

That evening dinner was a quiet affair. Your husband barely talked, even though your mother tried her best to strike up a conversation. But the hardest part came after the meal when you had to say goodbye to your mother, who would be leaving early the next morning.

“I will miss you so much, my darling. But you will be just fine, I know it. You’re going to be a great duchess and a good wife.”

Your mother had tears streaming down her cheeks as she said this. She had the same proud look in her eyes as she did when you had accepted the Duke’s proposal and when you had exchanged your vows, after all, having your daughter marry a rich duke was every mother’s dream and her’s had come true.

You told her that you would miss her as well, to give your love to your father and brother and that you would write as much as possible and then, after tearful hugs and kisses, your mother was gone and you were all alone.

With tears still drying on your cheeks you sat at your vanity table and stared at your reflection. In the few days since the wedding you seemed to have aged a lot, not in the positive maturing sense either, you simply looked exhausted. Dark bags were under your red eyes, the colour has left your skin and even your hair seemed lifeless.

“Pinching your cheeks should help”, Padmé offered as she stepped into the room.

You turned around to face your maid. She was holding a candle in one hand and a piece of cloth in the other. Before stepping closer to you she laid the cloth down on the foot of the bed.

“I have brought you a nightdress your husband wants you to wear.”

The look in her eyes spoke of sympathy and pity and even though you knew she was being kind you resented her for it. If Padmé ever got married she could choose her husband, choose someone she loved and who loved her and not marry a cold old man because it was expected of her.

“Is there”, Padmé started but hesitated to continue. Only when you looked at her and nodded did she speak again. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable tonight?”

You took a moment to think about it but ended up deciding that there really wasn’t. You had already downed more wine than usually at dinner and it had done nothing to calm your nerves and in the end you decided that you would rather be fully present for what was about to happen than give your husband the opportunity to do whatever he wanted without resistance.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll manage.”

Call it women’s intuition, but both you could tell that Padmé didn’t really believe you.

“Forgive me for speaking so boldly, but if you ever want to talk about what happens in the bedroom between husband and wife, or anything else for that matter, I am here for you.”

In that moment you realized that just because your mother had left didn’t mean that you were alone. Yes, Padmé was your servant, but you knew other girls who were good friends with their lady’s maids, so why shouldn’t she be your friend as well as your servant?

“Thank you very much for the offer, but I doubt there is anything you know that I don’t. After all, you’re not married.”

She raised an eyebrow and seemed to consider something before ultimately shaking her head.

“I’m not”, she said in a tone that made you question whether there was someone who held a special place in her heart. “But I have heard that some women think of other men when in bed with their husbands.”

For some reason you didn’t want to investigate any further Captain Rex popped into your head. The feel of his rough hands against your soft ones, the warmth in his gaze, the sound of his voice and laugh. You quickly shook your head, both to get rid off the thoughts and to hide the colour rising to your cheeks from Padmé. Fortunately your maid knew not to press the issue any further.

“Should I help you change into your nightdress?”

-------

You supposed you should consider yourself lucky that your husband seemed to be in a hurry to get his visit to your bedroom over with. He was in and out of your room within minutes. The time he was with you, and inside you, still felt like hours rather than minutes. The entire time your husband didn’t speak a word, not even a “good night” when he left again and if it hadn’t been for the noises he made you would have thought it was just as much of a duty for him as it was for you, but your mother had told you enough for you to know that the noises meant he was enjoying himself.

As soon as you heard the door from your sitting room to the corridor close you hurried off the bed and to your bathroom. Padmé, as if she’d know you would need it, had left a second bowl of water and piece of cloth next to the one you used to wash yourself in the morning. You tried to clean your nether regions as best as you could before returning to the bedroom, where you covered as much of the bed as possible with the two clean towels you had brought from the bathroom.

Though you didn’t feel as clean as you would have liked it would have to do for now and it didn’t take as much tossing and turning for you to fall asleep as you had anticipated.

-------

The next morning Rex didn’t see you until a few hours after Palpatine had left. He had asked Echo to stay with you while he arranged for the General’s absence, but around midday he finally managed to relief his brother and take on his duty of watching over you.

You were seated on a small chaise in the rose garden and Rex tried not to stare at how the sun shone on your hair and made your skin glow. Your eyes were closed and he couldn’t tell whether you were sleeping or simply relaxing, all he knew was that you looked more peaceful than you had the day before.

“What were you doing all day? I thought you were supposed to always be with me”, you asked.

Rex didn’t know how you could tell it was him standing in the shade of the cherry tree and no longer Echo since your eyes were still closed. For a moment he entertained the thought that you could sense him as much as he could sense you, but he banned that idea from his head almost as soon as it appeared. You had probably just opened your eyes for a split second and seen him, that had to be it.

“I had to sort through the General’s notes for training and timetables to keep everything running smooth while he is gone, that took a while.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. Finally you looked at him. He felt as if your eyes could look straight through cloth, flesh and muscle to into his soul, and find something growing there you were never supposed to see.

“I’m glad you’re here now, Captain.”

The almost teasing way in which you pronounced his rank reminded him of how you had said his name the day before. He had heard beautiful instruments, stunning voices and the exoctic birds the Duke kept around the gardens, but nothing compared to how you said his name. To him it no longer sounded like a name, but a beautiful song, something to cherish, to think of before falling asleep at night and to haunt one’s dreams.

Though Rex wasn’t what you would call shy, he was very reserved, especially when dealing with his employer, so he did nothing but nod at your comment and then stare straight ahead. He had already allowed himself too many liberties with you and now, as your personal guard, he had to remain professional, or else risk losing everything.

You, however, did not seem to get his subtle hint, because you just kept talking.

“I must admit, I much prefer the other garden, what was it called again? The rose garden is beautiful and everything, but it’s just a little too close to the house, I much prefer something more private. But it is too hot to take a single step more than necessary. I really don’t know how you manage in your uniform, you must be melting. Though, if you want, you could take off your jacket. Only if you want, maybe you’re cold, maybe it’s just me who cannot take this heat, but if you want to -”, you stopped your rambling mid sentence.

Rex risked a short glance at you. Your face was red, as was your neck, and a single drop of sweat was running down your temple to your neck and even further down towards an area he would not risk looking at.

“I’m sorry”, you said after a bit of silence. “I often find I cannot stop talking when I’m nervous.”

He tried, he really tried, not to show his surprise, but his eyebrows seemed to have a will of their own when they lifted in confusion. Though Rex managed not to look at you when he spoke, a small victory.

“What do you have to be nervous about, my lady?”

Part of Rex knew that this conversation could go in a direction it shouldn’t, meaning anything other than the most basic small talk, but another, larger, illogical part, wanted you to keep talking and to listen to every single word you said.

Your shadow and your footsteps on the gravel told Rex that you were coming closer. Still he did not turn around to face you, not even when you stopped and stood next to him, close enough that he could touch you if only he moved a few centimeters.

“Everything, to be honest. And nothing at the same time. I am married, living in a big house and should be the happiest girl alive, but it’s just not what I imagined. I feel so out of place, event though this is my home now, and my husband -”

Rex felt you taking a deep breath rather than hearing it, your whole body relaxed after your exhale.

“I guess I should stop talking now. After all, my husband is your employer and the only person who should talk about him even less than me, is you.”

It was your resigned tone that finally made Rex turn to face you. Your blush was gone, instead you had gone quite pale. Only your bright eyes and your lips, the bottom of which you were currently biting, gave your face pops of colour.

“Did he hurt you?”, Rex asked against his better knowledge. Yes, he was supposed to protect you, but that protection did not extend to the Duke, who, as your husband, was legally allowed to do with you whatever he wanted.

You hesitated for a fraction of a moment before shaking your head.

“No, he didn’t. It’s just... My marriage simply isn’t what I had been expecting.”

Both relief and sadness flooded through Rex. Of course he was glad the Duke hadn’t laid his hands on you, but his heart was also breaking for you.

“I suppose I was simply holding out hope for a knight in shining armor for so long that even now I can’t get rid of the idea. But that’s on me for reading too many books and wishing for a fairytale.”

A twinkle was back in your eyes. Maybe, Rex thought, you were thinking of your childhood dreams or even a childhood love. And though he didn’t like the thought of that, a feeling he shoved down as deep as possible, he was glad to see some of your sadness gone.

“I’ve heard of other women who gain their happiness through their children instead of their husbands”, he said in a low voice. It was something he had seen with his mother, who gave all her love and care to him and his brothers and didn’t seem to have much for her husband.

“Children...”, you stepped closer to Rex after whispering the word. Your (y/e/c) eyes settled on his honey coloured ones. “That’s the whole reason the Duke even married me, to give him an heir. I guess that really is all I’m good for.”

Rex’s eyes widened in shock. Did you really think that? Did you not see that there could be so much more to your life?

“I am sorry, my lady, but I disagree. There is so much more to you than the ability give the Duke an heir. You have your whole life ahead of you and-”

Suddenly Rex noticed the way your eyes hung on his lips, the astounded expression on your face.

“I... I’m sorry, it’s not my place to say such things.”

One second you just stared at Rex, the next you reached out and held his hand in yours. A soft smile was on your face and just like that all his worries of getting scolded disappeared and were replaced by a feeling of content and warmth spreading from his hand all the way to his heart.

“Thank you, Rex”, you said, your voice soft and sincere. “No one has ever said anything like that to me. You’re a kind man.”

Rex had gotten compliments before, from his mother, his brothers and his General, but never had they meant as much as the four simple words coming out your mouth. He could have sworn his heart stopped at the combination of your smile, your touch and your words. You were giving him so much by simply being with him and he knew, deep down, that nothing he could say would ever repay you for the way he felt in that moment.

I finally managed to continue this story. Sorry it took so long, but I wanted to take my time to do this right and with uni starting again time is something I don’t have a lot of recently.

But a huge thank you to everyone who read and commented on the first part! It really means a lot, even though I haven’t figured out how to reply to you using this blog I have read the comments and they warmed my heart. I hope you’ll enjoy this part as much as the first one and are looking forward to part three.

Taglist: @and-claudia @pinkiemme @callme-eds

#captain rex x you #captain rex imagine #captain rex au #captain rex x reader #captain rex #imagine #star wars imagine #star wars self insert #clone wars imagine #star wars au #clone wars au

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mimisempai · 3 years

Text

I will always wait for you

Summary:

Sometimes to work out his nightmares, Sam goes flying and Bucky waits for him, knowing that he will always come home.

🌈 Happy Pride month ! 🌈

To celebrate, 1 day, 1 story.

Be ready for smiles, laugh, fluff, tooth rotthing fluff, positive vibes and a lot of love!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31925692

1719 words - Rating G

As Bucky slowly awoke from his sleep, he became aware of three things. The first was the absence of a warm body next to him, the second was the morning light streaming in through the open window, and the third was a small post-it note, lit by the ray of sunlight and lying on the pillow where Sam was not.

He took the post-it and read what Sam had written. It was short, and exactly what Bucky had expected.

Bucky,

I had a bad night. I needed to go flying.

I love you,

Sam

Taking a quick look around the room, he saw the briefcase that contained Sam's armor opened which confirmed what Sam had written to him. Shuri had done a good job of allowing the armor to have multiple appearance options, so Sam regularly went flying just for fun or often to clear his head, as it was now the case.

Bucky quickly understood that it was not because Sam didn't want to see him or couldn't stand his presence. Sometimes Sam just needed that to feel better, to fly free, without purpose or mission, to exorcise the demons that haunted him. Bucky better than anyone could understand that.

Bucky decided it was time to start his day.

After making the bed and changing into a casual outfit, he headed for the kitchen, stopping to look at the pictures that filled the hallway wall.

There were family photos there, both blood-related and not, many of them taken by Sam. He ran his fingertip along the frame of a photo taken on their wedding day. A rather cute photo that the photographer had been desperate to take, Sam smiling, his face framed by Sarah and Joaquin kissing him on both cheeks, each on one side. Sam's sister Sarah had welcomed Bucky into their family, no questions asked, and Joaquin, Sam's teammate had become like a little brother to Bucky.

Bucky, who had been alone for so long, had found happiness with this family, he was bound to them with a bond stronger than blood.

He couldn't help but smile when he saw this picture and the one next to it where he and Sam were supposed to be looking at the camera, but were looking at each other. Bucky was happy to see Sam's smile immortalized in this picture. But his throat tightened every time he saw his own face in that picture. He looked so happy.

A happiness that at one time in his life he never thought he would have.

Sam was everywhere in their house.

When Bucky arrived in the kitchen, he saw his breakfast tray ready, as they had always done for years, the first one to get up would prepare it for the other. This morning there was a can of coffee he didn't know about. Bucky removed the post-it note stuck to the can to read it.

Carlos said that your coffee hasn't been delivered yet, but I found one that tastes almost the same. Try it. Or throw it away and get a Starbucks if you're not happy.

Love.

He put the post-it note in his pocket with the first one he'd found on the pillow.

When Sam had become Captain America ten years ago, knowing that Bucky had chosen to stay in Delacroix most of the time unless there was an urgent mission that required his skills, they knew they would have complicated schedules. Sam would regularly have to leave unexpectedly, without them necessarily having a chance to say goodbye.

So Sam had started leaving post-it notes, and Bucky was responding to them. Over the years, this has become an essential part of their relationship. Not just for urgent matters, but also for general messages, and sometimes just a gentle thought written down for the other to find later.

Bucky sipped his coffee, which he had to admit was not bad at all. He looked at the calendar hanging on the wall with scribbled events and Sam's work schedule for the week hanging next to it. He saw that Sam would have to leave for periods of several days, lots of events and press conferences. He was disappointed for a brief moment, as they would not see each other for several days. Some might say that he had got used to it, but for him it meant that after ten years the attachment was the same if the thought of Sam's absence had that effect on him.

But he wanted to make their lives more pleasant, as Sam did, so he went to get the ingredients for some muffins. Chocolate chip muffins were Sam's favourite. Bucky had discovered a passion for cooking. Well, especially when it came to cooking for Sam. The others...

He took one for himself, then packed the others in a plastic box, and stuck a post-it on it telling Sam that he would be of no use to anyone if he starved.

After folding the laundry he decided to sit in the living room and read, today was a day of rest for both of them after all so he was going to enjoy it.

After two hours of reading, Sam wasn't home yet, but it wasn't nearly long enough to start worrying. Maybe he had decided to visit friends or family. But it was more likely that he was flying high in the sky. He had once told Bucky that there were only two things that made him forget his nightmares: flying and Bucky's arms. Too bad he didn't wake Bucky up and let him help him with the second.

Looking for something to distract his mind, he took the small notebook that Sam had given him the other day. He had seen that the previous one was full. Sam had given him the first notebook 10 years ago, to replace Steve's. He told him that since this was a new life, he should have a new notebook to fill with positive things. Since then, Bucky had been writing down things he wanted to do, visit, eat, listen to. This was his second notebook. As he flipped through it, he found a new little post-it note

I took the liberty of adding a few lines... I hope you won't mind.

I love you (so much more than 10 years ago and less than tomorrow.)

Bucky smiled, feeling moved, and ran his fingers over the notebook, tracing the familiar curves of Sam's writing.

Then he went to the last page where Sam had written something.

-Listening to Trouble Man (You stubborn old man)

-Trying a new delicious recipe for Sam (though nothing outdoes your muffins)

-Being nice to Redwing (jealous of a bot, how cute of you)

Shaking his head and laughing, he put the notebook back in its place.

He continued to walk around the living room. He found himself in front of the fireplace. Winters were not cold, so a fireplace was not common in Louisiana homes. And yet it was Sam who had wanted it when they built their house after Bucky had confided in him that what haunted him most in his nightmares was the cold. The memory of his cryogenic sleeps.

So when the roles were reversed and Bucky needed warmth after a nightmare. When he didn't want to disturb Sam or when Sam wasn't there, He would light the fire and sit in front of it until the heat made him forget his nightmares.

The way their relationship had started, who would have thought they would have come to this. Certainly not him. But they were perfect together in a way Bucky would never have dared to dream.

Bucky figured Sam's nightmare must have been particularly hard on him, to keep him out there for so long, but he trusted him to tell him about it when he needed to.

In the meantime, he picked up an old record and headed for the record player. Another present from Sam when Bucky had told him he missed the sound of old records.

I hadn't anyone till you.

Bucky remembered when this song had come out. As he listened to the lyrics now, he thought they were prescient.

I hadn't anyone

Till you

I was the lonely one

Till you

I used to lie awake and wonder

If there could be

A someone in this wide world

Just made for me

His eyes fell on another post-it note on the record cover.

Bucky, you little sap, I'm sure you think this song is written for you. The someone just made for you, you think that's me right?

Well you're right and it's mutual.

With love from your fool in love.

He read it several times and put it in his pocket with the others. The little piece of paper may not have been warm, but Bucky felt a familiar warmth spread through him.

Music filled the room and Bucky opened the living room window to let the breeze in.

He lay down on the couch, the book he had started this morning in his hand, resting his head on one armrest and his feet on the other. He quickly became absorbed in his reading, absentmindedly humming the song. When he got to the part Sam mentioned in his little note, Bucky began to sing out loud as well, and as his voice faded with the music, he heard the door open behind him.

Bucky sat up and turned his head, Sam was home.

"Stay where you are, love."

Sam came to join him, kissed him gently before sitting against him, Bucky closed his arm around him.

"Hi," Sam said softly, a half smile on his face. "I missed you."

"Hi," Bucky replied, pressing a kiss to Sam's head. "I missed you too. Did you have a good time?"

"Yes, I did," Sam replied. "Did you have a good time too? I'm sorry I wasn't there most of the day."

"Of course you were there," Bucky replied. It was the truth. Sam was always there, even when he wasn't physically there. Bucky could see him everywhere. There were traces of him, of them, everywhere. And when he left, he always came home. In Bucky's arms.

He tightened his embrace and whispered softly, "You are here. And I will always wait for you. Always."

_____ I think the sappy one is me but well...

I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

Not beta'd

#sambucky fic #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #married #fluff #tfatws #caatws

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mardereads19 · 3 years

Text

Elriel Month 🌸🦇

Day 22:

“Hello,” Elain said as she opened the door. She reined in the urge to avert her gaze and furrow her brows, but she did not make her voice sound as friendly as she should have.

Lucien cleared his throat. “Hello.” His eyes had widened when she had been the one to open the door instead of her sister or a servant, but he had recovered quickly. Now he looked as unruffled as if he had always known it’d be Elain he’d been meeting here.

“Every person has give aways of emotions. Tells that reveal what they are feeling —if they’re lying, what their weakness is, and if they are about to attack,” Azriel had said to her during training a few days ago. “Your assignment for tomorrow is that you find give aways in the people you encounter today.”

“Do all of the tells mean the same thing in everyone? Does biting the lower lip, for instance, mean nervousness in everyone or is it an individual thing?” Elain had asked.

Azriel had smiled at her with approval shinning in his eyes. “That’s a very good question. Tells are individual. What might represent nervousness in you, might represent anger in someone else.”

“How will I know what the give away to the people I see mean for them individually?”

“You get better at that with practice. But for tomorrow you only need to note the tells, not what they may mean. Look out for tapping fingers, for roaming eyes, for biting a lip —anything that might reveal emotions.”

And Elain had gotten so good at it that she noticed Lucien’s quick twitch of his fingers. She was willing to bet he felt nervous, perhaps self-conscious, underneath the calm, collected air he was trying to pull-off.

Good, she could almost hear Azriel’s voice whisper in her ear. She held back a smile and opened the door wider, the heat of the mid-day sun hitting her with the warm breeze. Today was a hot day. “Come in.”

Lucien hesitated —another tell— before stepping inside the river house’s foyer. Once she had closed the door behind him, she let herself study him.

Even though Elain was not fond of being in the same room as him, or that this male was her cauldron-given mate, she could not deny he always looked pristine. Even with the heat, Lucien wore a white dress shirt with a pine-green vest and pants. The color brought out the red of his hair —which was elegantly tied at the nape of his neck— and the gold of his eye. She also thought that the scar across his other —metal— eye that others found gruesome and grotesque, made him even more handsome. Nothing like an imperfection to highlight the beauty.

He shifted on his feet and Elain almost asked him what made him so uncomfortable, except she already knew. She felt it, too. “Where are Feyre and Rhysand?”

Elain tilted her head. “Desperate to get away from my presence?”

Lucien whirled towards her, her tone that had been full of disdain, his eyes widening once more. “No, that’s not what I—” He frowned with worry before adding, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She focused on his real eye, the one that would reveal his emotions, and found sincerity in his gaze. She nodded once. “Feyre and Rhys are gone on Court business, but they asked me to receive you.”

Feyre knew damn well what she had been doing when she left Elain at the river house with the task of receiving Lucien. She and Rhys had both urgently needed to visit the Hewn City to present Nyx and remind the Court of Nightmares who held the reins of their small kingdom. Apparently, the job could not wait one more day.

Lucien inclined his head in a nod. “How is the baby?”

Elain let her lips twist up in a genuine smile, the image of her small nephew coming up into her mind. “He’s healthy, thank the Cauldron.”

Lucien nodded, again. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Nyx had been a blessing. Having him here took her mind off of distracting thoughts. Taking care of him focused her —that is, until she studied his wings and her mind drifted off to another male with wings like that.

Elain shook her head to dispel the image of Azriel. She had to focus on the task at hand, of listening to her mate.

But as Lucien began to update Elain on the Spring Court’s and Tamlin’s current state, she couldn’t stop her mind from drifting off, again.

Mate. This male before her was her mate. What did that mean? Why did that matter? Elain knew the answers to those questions according to the Fae, but the answers were not the same to her. Now you are Fae, too, you know? she reminded herself. Yet as much as she tried to assimilate to their culture, their lifestyle, it was seemingly impossible.

“Reaching complete silence is imposible. It’s even harder here, in Prythian, to achieve stealth. The sharp hearing is an obstacle you must learn to overcome.” Azriel’s voice from one of their initial training sessions rang in her head.

“If it’s impossible, how do you do it? How do the Wraiths do it?”

Azriel had smiled. “The Wraiths are more silent than me —impressive, I know— but they are half shadows themselves.”

Elain had chuckled and raised her brows. “I hadn’t noticed any difference between your levels of stealth.”

Azriel had dipped his chin. “Well, I did train them regardless. Just how I am training you.” And the look he’d given her had made her shift on her feet. Azriel noted the tell and she’d gone still again.

“As I said, complete silence is imposible, but if the sound could be reduced enough to almost imperceivable, it will seem completely quiet. Let’s begin with your footwork.”

Elain slammed back to reality when Lucien mentioned Koschei. And she blinked a few times to remember she was in the river house foyer and not in the ceiling or garden training with—

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Lucien frowned slightly before saying, “Vassa doesn’t have much time here, before Koschei pulls on her reins. What is Feyre and Rhysand’s plan to find his location?” His eye held a shine and Elain could have sworn she saw fire dancing in his golden iris. His voice had also taken on a fierceness that Elain couldn’t help but admire.

“I don’t know the specifics of it, but Rhysand and Feyre have been trying to find a safe way to visit his lake.” Elain hesitated for a second, not knowing if this information was clear to share or not, but Lucien was their ally, and he was friends with Vassa, who might be the best source of intel they had at the moment. “Azriel and Cassian had an encounter with the death god at his lake already and it did not end well.”

“Bryallin had the crown, that’s how she had controlled Cassian,” Rhys had said in one of their meetings with the Inner Circle. Elain had been walking past the door in the hallway, but she had stopped and listened.

Azriel had spoken next, the sound of his voice making her heart skip. “My shadows warned me to run from there, Rhys. Even if Koschei had no controlling powers, those he does have are dangerous. I’m still not sure how Elain’s —and Feyre and Nesta’s— father could strike a deal with him.”

“Koschei also said he had been preparing for us or some other shit like that,” Cassian added. “I’m not sure if it’s wise to return there without learning more, finding a weakness or something.”

“We know he wants Vassa back,” Amren suggested.

Feyre spoke up, “We are not going to use Vassa as a bargaining ship, Amren.”

“I also don’t think Vassa could guarantee our safety.” Rhys’s comment was followed by a short silence.

A shadow had flowed out through the open door and glanced —or what Elain would interpret as a glance from a shadow— at her before quietly making its way back to Azriel. Elain had taken a step closer to the gap and looked inside the study to see it lift to his ear. The shadowsinger did not glance towards the door, but she saw him smile. Her heart ached with the sudden need to touch those slightly twisted lips.

“We’d be fools to try to taunt Koschei with Vassa, who is still enslaved to him. We need something else, something he wouldn’t venture to hurt us for. Something he wants or, as Cassian said, something that’s his weakness.”

Elain looked up at Lucien now. “Do you think Queen Vassa would agree to meet with Rhysand and Feyre? Now that Azriel and Cassian saw Koschei and his lake themselves, they might understand better any instruction Vassa gives. We need all the help we can get.”

Lucien began nodding even before she had finished her question, his eye filling with hope —for the human queen, Elain noted. “Anything you need, Vassa will be happy to provide as long as she knows about it or if she’s not enchanted against speaking of.”

“Enchanted?”

Lucien’s brow furrowed. “Sometimes Vassa finds it difficult to speak of certain things. She’d be speaking one moment and the next second she’d forget what she was about to say. She never understands it, but my eye,” he gestured to his metal eye, “picks spells up.” His gold eye darkened. “Koschei won’t let her speak of some things, I’m guessing they are vital to learning how to defeat him.”

Elain dipped her chin and tucked away the information for later, when she got to tell her sister and her mate what Lucien told Elain.

The male before her said a few things more regarding the human territory —Elain placing on her face the most neutral mask she could muster, Azriel’s impassive face as her guideline— before bidding her goodbye.

Elain was accompanying him to the door when she realized she should have had invited him into a parlor and offered tea or anything. He was outside before she could apologize, but he turned to her abruptly, like he had been fighting an impulse that won out in the end. Elain just blinked at him, waiting.

“I—” His face flushed. “It was nice seeing you.”

Elain bowed her head and told herself being polite was not the same thing as accepting their fated bond. “As was seeing you.”

Lucien opened his mouth like he might say more, but then he closed it and bowed. He turned swiftly and walked away from the estate.

Elain watched him go, wondering if she would have felt something for him if she had met him differently. He was noble, that much was true for her. But there was no spark of joy in her heart when she saw him. Instead, she couldn’t help but feeling disdain at being around him. It had more to do with the stupid mating bond than it did him. More to do with how everyone expected them to get together at one point or another. More to do with the fact that it was not up to her to decide. The mating bond with Lucien felt like she had no choice.

But if she had met him differently?

Hazel eyes flashed in her mind. A scarred hand extending towards her before guiding her to the garden. Wings sunning as she drank tea and plotted out in her head the next section of the terrain.

Elain shut the door, a sad smile appearing on her face. It would not have mattered if Lucien and Elain had met differently. She had met Azriel first, and it had been born out of him being with the good side. Him wanting to help the humans who had no way of defending themselves.

He had been the one to listen to her when her visions had her speaking in code. It had been him who had assured everyone she was not crazy, but special. That she was not lacking anything, but had gained something.

Elain had tried to ignore it, but this meeting with her mate, where she had not been able to push away memories of moments spent with Azriel from her mind... She could not deny it any longer.

Her feelings for Azriel were like weeds in her heart. The more she tried to cut them, the more they grew and spread. She was so far gone that not even a conversation with Lucien could stop her from thinking about her shadowsinger.

She was buried underneath it. The ivy of her emotions for him. The ivy of him.

It kept on growing.

#elrielmonth #elrielmonth21 #elriel #elain #azriel #elain archeron #elriel endgame #pro elriel #elriel fanfic #elriel oneshot #my writing

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years

Note

I really, really love I’ll Do My Best By You p1 & 2–there’s just something so lovely about the idea of having such a big strong grumpy man totally at your mercy! Would you be willing to consider writing a part 3 where the reader gets a happily ever after with her grumpy mercenary... or at least gets railed into oblivion by him? (Or maybe he’s learned to trust her enough that he can let his guard down with her and she gets to keep the upper hand in bed sometimes, even after he’s all healed up? Dealer’s choice) 💚thirstworldproblemss

I’ll Do My Best By You - pt 3

Sorry! This ran away with me a bit and is much less smutty and more angsty than you asked... I hope you love it anyway.....

Part I ~ Part II

Two evenings later, a knock sounded at your door. It was too late to be one of your few friends in the village come to chat. You knew who it was.

Pero lay next to you in bed, dozing, on his stomach, his arm heavy and comforting over your stomach. The man slept like the dead and you wondered idly how he hadn’t been killed on a sellsword mission, in his slumber.

You eased yourself out from under his arm. He mumbled something, his face momentarily creasing into its habitual scowl before softening again.

Because you apparently had no willpower, you dropped a kiss on his forehead.

You loved him. You shouldn’t. It was stupid.

But your heart wanted what it wanted.

Pulling on your thick robe, you plodded to the door, yanking it open to see William. Your shoulders slumped.

“It’s time, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he said gravely. “Our Captain’s put the word out. There’s an opportunity.”

Opportunity. For death maybe, you thought, unspeakably sad, and angry. But you nodded. “He’s sleeping. Come back in the morning?”

William nodded, starting to turn, but then hesitated. “Thankyou. Truly. For all you’ve done.” He reached into his shoulder bag, ferretted out a little bag, jingled it. “For your services.”

“There’s no need.” The only thing you wanted, this man was going to take from you.

William took your hand, uncurled your fingers, pressed the money into your palm. “Please take it. You saved the life of my best friend.”

“You keep him safe,” you grated out. “You keep him safe.”

William gave you a silent, curt nod. And then he was gone, boots crunching on fallen leaves. You closed the door and leaned your forehead against it, stifling a sob.

“Querida?”

You swiped your free hand over your face, turned to see Pero standing a few feet away, a question sketched on his handsome visage.

“Who was that?”

“William.”

“Oh Si.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. He wore only loose back trousers slung low on his hips, and the light from the guttering candles on various surfaces in the cottage bathed his tanned skin in amber and gold. His skin had healed very well. “He has come to fetch me for a job, no?”

“He has. He’ll be back tomorrow.” You turned back to the door.

“Cielo.”

You didn’t move, but heard Pero’s footfalls as he crossed the small space towards you. “Would you look at me?”

Slowly you turned around, back to the door, hating the way your eyes were so wet.

He lifted a hand and cupped your cheek, and you sighed at the feel of his palm, warm, a little rough. “You should be happy, no? You worked miracles on these old bones. I will be a burden to you no more.”

“Don’t say that,” you choked out. “Go back to bed.” You swiped at your eyes, angry at crying in front of him.

“Querida.”

“Don’t… don’t be nice to me. When you’re leaving tomorrow.”

His face fell, and he crowded into you, embracing you, gathering you to him. Helpless, you went to him, burying your face in the hollow of his throat, breathing him in, half-desperate. “The life of a sellsword is not one that lends itself to love, querida.”

Your gaze snapped to his. “You love me?”

His brow quirked. “What else do I call this ache in my chest when I think of leaving this village behind, hmmm? What else do I call this hunger only you can satisfy?”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t go….?” you asked tremulously.

Pero gently touched his forehead to yours. “And what would I do, hmmmm, hermosa? Assist you with bandaging the villagers who barely speak with you? Make myself useful around the town in some way? Sweep the floor for you?”

You laughed weakly. You couldn’t imagine him doing those things.

“If you go, you could die,” you whispered, breaking eye contact.

“Or perhaps I could bring you the spoils of my contracts, no? Beautiful things from faraway places.”

That he was thinking of a future with you in it made your heart clench. “I don’t need beautiful things.” You spread your hands over his bare chest; warm, scarred, the sparse hair coarse under your palms. You liked the roughness. “You’re all the beauty I need.”

He chuckled. “Such fine words that an old sellsword does not deserve.”

“Sometimes it’s not about deserving.” You pressed a kiss to his collarbone, leaned into him. “Sometimes it’s about not wanting to lose something you just found.”

Pero tugged you away from the door. “Come to bed, querida.”

And you let him lead you to the bed, let him lay you down on it. Open your arms for him and embrace him fiercely, feel his heart beating against yours.

When he slid inside you, the only feeling you could marry it to was one of coming home. Of perfectness. And after he fell asleep, one arm draped heavily over you, you gazed at his face until the candles guttered out, trying to burn his long dark lashes, stern brows, and full bottom lip into your memory, to remember when you were alone again.

*****

Pero was clearing away the crumbs from your breakfast of bread, honey and butter when William knocked again. You crossed to the door with a heavy heart, wishing that last night you’d shoved the bag of coin back in his annoyingly genial face.

You yanked the door open, and William stands there. He’s holding Pero’s looping back scabbard with the two swords slotted into the custom leather sheaths.

“Morning.”

He did at least have the grace to sound embarrassed.

“Morning.” Your mother brought you up with too many manners to be rude. “It’s time?”

“It’s time.”

Behind you, Pero stood. He’d dressed this morning, black tunic, black trousers, underwear, boots, leather armour. Last night you’d stitched the tears in his tunic as he sat by you, telling tales of his assignations with William. They had been friends for so many years. You could never ask him to choose you over his brother. They might not have been bound by blood, but you knew, sometimes the bonds of family you chose went deeper still.

“Give me a moment, William?” he asked, his dark gaze flicking over his friend.

William nodded stiffly, his face flushing for a second, and you wondered that he didn’t have a woman waiting for him, or at least someone he thought of as home.

It was a hard life, the life of a sellsword on the road.

The door banged shut behind him and you steeled yourself.

“Mi amor,” Pero murmured. He cupped his hands over your shoulders, leaned his forehead against yours. “I must go. But I will come back. If you will have me.”

You slid a hand up into his thick, dark hair. “How long?”

“I cannot say.” His voice hitched as he added, “I understand you may want to.. Take other lovers.”

You scoffed. “No. I don’t want other lovers. I will wait, but, not forever.”

He tugged you close, fitting you into his lines of his armoured body, and you exhaled shakily, holding him. “It feels wrong to let you go. I just found you,” you murmured into his chainmail.

“It is the only life I know, cielo.” He stepped back, tipped your chin up with one finger. “Perhaps one more taste of you, to carry with me on the long nights with only the Irishman for company?” There was mischief in his eyes, but you saw the sadness behind it and your heart clenched.

You nodded and he kissed you, softly at first, then deeper, and you opened for him, your tongue dancing with his, and then the energy turned hot and urgent, and you looped your arms around his neck.

“One more time, please,” you whispered, uncaring that William waited outside in the cold, and Pero scooped you up and walked you to the nearest wall. You scrabbled frantically at the ties to his breeches, freeing him, your greedy fingers stroking him, and he moaned into your mouth, one hand leaving your hip to gather your skirts, and in the next heartbeat he was inside you.

You buried your face in his neck as he started to move, and you expected him to set a punishing pace, but instead he moved slow and languid, whispering nonsense in a mix of English and Spanish, his voice low, raspy, and you came together, your eyes wet.

With the utmost gentleness he set you on your feet, kissed you fiercely, teeth scraping, and then swept out of the door.

You watched the wood vibrate in his wake; heard the canter of horses.

And then all was quiet.

*******

Two months passed. The season changed. You helped the villagers, as you always did. A few more of them had warmed to you, you had, after all saved the life of one of the mercenaries who’d dispatched bandits. That alone had elevated your status. A little.

You busied yourself prepping for the winter. A winter you hoped you wouldn’t be spending alone. You collected firewood; roasted meat and salted it, buried bundled nuts. Prepared poultices for fingers and toes that would be chafed by the coming cold.

And then, one not so special day, as the wind fluttered the leaves off the trees that lined the back of your land, the pound of horses’ hooves made you look up.

William and Pero rode towards you, the horses kicking up dust and mud in their galloping wake. Pero’s stubble was heavy, his hair longer than you’d ever seen it, tied back in a little tail, and a cloak billowed around his shoulders.

You dropped the branches you’d been tying together and ran, your skirts bunched up in your hands. Your boots skidded a little in the mud but you went as fast as you could, your heart thudding, skin hot.

Pero pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted so quickly you thought he might topple, and then he was running, too, and you leapt the final two feet and he caught you, and held you so tightly, and you pressed your face to his and it wasn’t clear whether your tears or his were hot on your cheeks.

“Mi amor,” he rasped.

You waited a dozen heartbeats before you pulled back to look at his dear face, smooth your palm along his thick stubble. “You came back.”

He scoffed. “I said I would, no? A Spaniard always keeps his word.”

“I’m not taking him out again,” William said mildly from horseback. “Like an old woman, he was. Pining. I-” and then a woman shouted his name from a distance and he too, leapt off his horse and went running.

You pressed your face into Pero’s neck and smiled.

“I think I would like to stay here. With you, cielo,” Pero murmured into your hair. “If an old dog like me can learn new tricks. If there is room for me at your hearth.”

Your heart simply filled up with joy, as happiness unfurled inside your chest. You burrowed into his broad warmth. “That depends. How good are you at sweeping?”

Bonus:

Unbeta’d. Tagging some people from pt 2, and @alwaysbethewest because she likes finished stories :) @lilkermit14 @dornish-queen @mrsparknuts @thegreenkid @knittingqueen13 @heatherbel @f0rever15elf @thirstworldproblemss @fleurdemiel145 @strangelittlenobody @goblinqueen95 @dartheldur @voteforpedropascal @graveyardnails @pascalesque @marydjarin @theravenreads @roxypeanut @mourningbirds1 @kindablackenedsuperhero @holographic-carmen @starlight-starwrites @jaime1110 @gamingaquarius @the-dazzling-urbanite @keeper0fthestars @wildchild1964 @littlemissthistle @lackofhonor @cryptkeepersoul @alienprincesspoop @ripleyafterdark @tainted-gay-ghost @on-the-razor-crest @beccaplaying @thehiddenmystical @agirllovespancakes @88dragon06 @littleferal @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @songsformonkeys @mxndoscyarika @hiscyarika @mrschiltoncat @havenforafrazzledmind @badassbaker @mostly-megan @chews-erotically @mstgsmy @trashbin2 @randomness501 @libellule2001

#pero tovar x reader #pero tovar fic #the great wall fic #pedro pascal fic #pero tovar x f!reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pero tovar fanfiction #pedro pascal x f!reader

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mrs-hilmarson · 3 years

Text

Run To Me (Part 4)

Pairing: Diane Sherman x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

TW: Brief mention of vomiting. I don’t want anyone getting triggered, so I would rather be overly cautious!

A/N: If you would like to be on a tag list for this fic, please add a comment below or shoot me a message! Excited about the next chapter, things are coming. Again thank you for the love. I am having so much fun writing this and it means even more when you have people who enjoy reading it!

Even though it had been four whole days since the accident, you were not feeling better. Diane had said that the day after was supposed to be the worst, but it seemed like you felt weaker each day. Diane was keeping a close eye on you though, making sure you weren't running a fever and that the road rash and cuts weren't getting worse. She said if you got any weaker, she would bring you to the local urgent care to make sure something serious wasn't going on.

Though you weren't feeling well, you enjoyed the days spent with Diane in the quiet little house, just the two of you. You had learned a lot about each other in the past few days, developing a routine with one another that always ended the day with a cup of that nasty ass tea, but deep and sweet conversation.

You hadn't gone into too much detail about your past quite yet, about your mother or father or what it was like in the foster home. You shared mainly surface level things and funny memories that were light hearted. You knew the heavier stuff would be discussed eventually. Although you were choosing to keep the painful memories of your past to yourself for the time being, Diane had opened to you almost immediately.

You found out she didn't have parents either, her mother dying when she was a child and she was married when she was very young, to an abusive husband that left her for another woman only a year and a half into the marriage. Soon after she found out she was pregnant and she decided to not reach out to her ex-husband and to just raise the baby on her own. Unfortunately she developed high blood pressure and delivered the baby too soon, and she died in Diane's arms before she even had time to discuss options. Her name was Chloe and Diane chose to live a quiet life after that. She moved to Washington only a few years ago and put herself into teaching, science, and her garden. She always wanted a child, but she was just never able have one again.

When she told you that, your heart broke for her. Of course she was so willing to take you home with her. She was lonely! She had promised to take care of you, but you knew as soon as you were back on your feet, you were going to try and care for her too. In whatever way she would let you. You weren't Chloe, and you could never be Chloe, but you could love her with all your heart.

It had been another rough day, as you had suddenly developed a bad headache and had felt queasy for most of it. You didn't really eat much of your dinner, pushing it around your plate. You didn't want to tell Diane you had vomited up breakfast. If she knew you were barely keeping things down, she may get worried.

Diane cleared the plates from the table and brought them to the sink. She noticed you didn't eat more than a few bites. She didn't say anything but turned to you and smiled.

"How about you go ahead and sit on the couch? I'll be there in just a minute," she said quietly. Her voice had seemed to grow more gentle towards you each day.

You smiled wearily and went to the living room, lazily sitting down on the couch. It could have only been a few minutes, but you somehow managed to fall asleep. You were constantly tired and wanting to nap. Diane said it was a good sign because it meant your body was trying to heal itself.

You were woken up by the couch dipping under Diane's weight. You opened your eyes and saw her smiling at you, holding a bowl of something brown. It smelled sweet and you looked at her suspiciously.

"What's that? No tea tonight?" you asked, hopeful.

Diane chuckled and pulled out two spoons, sticking it into the bowl.

"No, no tea tonight. I don't want you to get too much of those herbs and vitamins. And this, it's brownie batter. Me and my friends as teenagers would make a bowl of it and eat it as we talked about boys and school and our dreams," she said, picking up a spoon and licking off the chocolate from it.

You couldn't help but smile as you took a spoon and licked at it cautiously. You had never had the stuff and it was intoxicating. You shoved the whole spoon in your mouth, ready to inhale the entire bowl.

Diane laughed and pulled the bowl towards her.

"Alright, alright speedy... don't eat it too fast. You'll get sick."

You forced yourself to go slower, but the moment Diane turned around you would be sure to put as much of it in your mouth that would fit. This was worth getting sick over. Diane stared at you, drinking up the image of you enjoying the treat she had brought.

"You know," Diane hummed, "I always thought I'd do this one day with my daughter. Make it a tradition and she'd tell me her secrets and we would be best friends."

You're heart ached in your chest. You knew she meant Chloe and you knew she would rather her be on the couch than you. Suddenly the batter didn't taste as sweet. You put the spoon into the bowl and left it there. You looked up at Diane and saw she was almost beaming at you though.

"I'm glad I get to do it with you," she said, picking up the spoon with her other hand and letting you eat off it.

You felt really confused, but happy at the same time. You knew you weren't her daughter, but sometimes the way she said things or looked at you, it was like she wanted you to be. As if that's how she saw you. You weren't sure if you saw her as a mother though, you didn't really know what that felt like. It was complex for you.

"So, Y/n, tell me. What did you do with your friends? Did you have any special traditions with the girls?" Diane asked, eating another spoon of the batter, it dripping onto her lips.

It broke you from your anxious thoughts and had you now thinking about your past. It wasn't that much better but at least it would keep you talking.

"Well, I really wasn't in one place long enough to make any traditions with my friends. But me and my foster sister, the one who lives in town, we would go and sneak out of our group home and head to the woods behind it. The woods had fireflies in them and we would go see the 'light shows' and talk about a bunch of different things. What our families could have been like, what we were going to do when we aged out, the issues we had at the home."

You remembered those nights fondly, some of the few good memories you had growing up. You wondered if there were any woods in the area and if they had fireflies. Maybe you could go and see a 'light show' for old times sake. You would ask your sister when you saw her. But you needed to call her first.

"Uh Diane, could I possibly use your phone?"

Diane suddenly stiffened, the spoon thudding back into the batter. Her face seemed to harden just for a moment before quickly returning to the warm look she often gave you. It took her a moment to respond, making the air between you thick for some reason.

"Sure. Are you okay?" she said, her voice sounding concerned.

She seemed like she was worried and you wondered if she thought she had upset you.

"Oh yeah! I'm fine. I just actually wanted to call my sister and let her know I made it here and that I'm safe and see when she wanted to meet up," you said in a confident tone, hoping to ease her mind.

Her face seemed to twitch and she swallowed hard, clearing her throat. She smiled at you though and you just shrugged off her strange reaction. She pointed to the kitchen where the phone hung on the wall. Diane had phones with chords still in her house, which you found charming, but also a little inconvenient that you couldn't step outside.

"You're welcome to call your foster sister," she said, saying the word 'foster' strangely, "I'm going to go upstairs and get ready for bed to give you some privacy."

She smiled at you and brushed your hair behind your ear before getting up and heading to her room. You waited until you could no longer hear her footsteps before leaning over the brownie bowl and quickly stuffing your mouth with as much batter as you could. As soon as you swallowed it all, you realized you may have made a mistake, but you could regret it later.

You walked over to the phone and pressed the buttons to the number you had memorized by heart. You felt nervous suddenly even though nothing had changed and you had just talked to her a week ago. Your heart race increased with each ringer, anxious to hear her voice.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice on the other side of the phone croaked.

"Mandy? Mandy, its Y/n."

There was some rustling on the other side of the line and you were pretty sure you had woken Mandy up, but you knew she wouldn't mind.

"Hey! I was wondering when I would hear from you. I was a little worried. You were supposed to call me like two days ago," she yawned.

"Yeah I'm sorry. I had a little set back. But I'm here in town and I'm staying with a woman I met-"

Mandy cut you off with a very obnoxious "Ooooohhhhhh!"

"Shut up. It's not like that. She's just a really good friend that I was lucky enough to meet. Now before you say anything else stupid, when and where do you want to meet?"

Mandy chuckled on the other end. She knew you hated being picked on and anytime she sensed even the possibility of making you uncomfortable, she had to crack a joke.

"Well, I have class tomorrow, but I am free after lunch. There is a nice little coffee shop book store on Howard. You can meet me there at like 2PM. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah, that's perfect. I can't wait. I've missed you so much Mandy," you said, tears prickling at your eyes.

"I've missed you too lighting bug. So tell me, who is this lady you are-"

Suddenly Mandy's voice cut off. You pulled the phone away from your ear, not even hearing a dial tone. You messed with the phone for a moment before realizing the line was dead.

"Diane?" you called out, sticking your head around the corner.

Diane was right there, breathing heavy as if she had been running. She startled you and you stared at her, mindlessly passing the phone to her.

"Your phone line went dead," you mumbled.

Diane put the phone to her ear and pressed a few buttons before hanging up.

"I'll call the phone company in the morning. Sometimes someone hits a line and the whole thing goes dead. Were you able to call your friend though?" she asked, leaning against the wall.

You noticed she said friend this time, but you brushed it off. She didn't know the bond you and Mandy shared.

"Yes! I did. I'm going to meet her tomorrow for lunch."

Diane didn't hid her discomfort this time.

"Y/n, I don't think that's a good idea. You're still very weak. You didn't even eat dinner. I don't think you should go out by yourself. Maybe I should go with-"

"No. It's okay. I'll be fine for a couple of hours. I won't be running a marathon, just having a coffee with my sister."

You wanted to spend time with Mandy by yourself and while you appreciated the thought of Diane going with you, you were still an adult no matter how young you looked. It didn't help that at the moment the brownie batter was now fighting against you and you were hunched over slightly.

"Well maybe consider letting me drive you to town? I need to run some errands anyway so I can drive you and that way if you feel like you need to lay down or rest I wouldn't be far."

You would need a ride to town, but you just weren't sure.

"Let me sleep on it. I hate to think I would be using you just for a ride. And-" before you could finish, you start having a coughing fit. Coughing was nothing new to you thanks to the asthma, but this wasn't that. This was the batter.

You tried to keep it down, but it was too late. You threw up, all over yourself, all over the floor, and even on Diane's slippers. You expelled everything you had eaten that day and more and it took a moment before you stopped gagging, laying in a ball on the floor.

Suddenly fear over took you as you saw yourself and the floor covered in vomit. You know your mom would be so mad when she saw it and you would get punished. You didn't want to be punished. You began to cry and you scooted away until your body hit the wall.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to," you cried. You forgot where you were and suddenly you were back at home. You didn't like going back.

Diane quickly ran over to you, not phased by the vomit and held you in her arms. You fought her off at first but she shooshed you and smoothed your hair, holding you close to her. She knew a flashback when she saw one. She held you and whispered in your ear. It took a moment but eventually you came back to present day. You still felt sick, you now smelled awful, your head hurt, and you were embarrassed. For the first time since you had met Diane, you felt tears prickle you eyes and instead of hiding them, you let them flow.

You cried in Diane's arms as she rocked you back in forth, and you apologized over and over again. You weren't sure if you were saying sorry because you had thrown up on her or if it was because she lost her daughter or because you were the mess of a person she felt fate brought her. She kissed your head and took your face in her hands. She wiped your tears with the pads of her thumb and looked at you with tears in her eyes too.

"Hey. It's okay. Stop apologizing. You're safe now Y/n."

She pulled you back to her chest again and wrapped her arms around you tight as if she would never let you go.

"I've got you," she whispered, over and over.

"I've got you, and I'm not letting go."

#sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson fic #sarah paulson #diane sherman #diane sherman x reader #run film

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angelikook · 3 years

Text

Pas de Deux

Pairing(s): Dance teacher!Hoseok x reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort, fluff

Word Count: 6.7k

Warning(s): Profanity

Summary: Your dance teacher, Hoseok, might teach you a bit more than just dancing.

A/n Moral of the story, never seek validation from anyone. You can do whatever you want as long as you're happy and you're not doing anything wrong.

There will be a mention about Blue Side and its meanings. Check this link for the complete analysis (it's in Indonesian). Shout out to the writer for the in-depth analysis.

There were days when you wished you were more flexible. Or athletic. Or both.

Like today for instance.

Your weekly Friday-night private dance class didn’t look too good as usual. First of all, you had a literal dance God stood in front of you as your dance teacher. In front of him, you looked like a baby giraffe learning how to stand on four wobbly legs.

During the past few months you’ve been his student, through ups and downs that had more downs, his smile never faltered, his energy never died out, and his patience never ran out.

Every time you fell on your bruising butt, he only held out his hand to you and put on that million-dollar smile of his. Sometimes- Scratch that- Most of the times, you felt bad when you fell for the nth time in the span of an hour. Other times, you felt bad after your first fall. You definitely didn’t want him to think you were unworthy of his time and attention. That was the worst way a person can embarrass themself.

Your teacher, who went with the name Hoseok, and stage name j-hope, once again danced real slow in hope you could follow him. You both moved at a snail’s pace, but of course, your lack of athleticism wouldn’t let you go for 10 minutes without falling.

Out of nowhere, one of your feet caught up in the other one and made you stumble. And with that, your body unceremoniously collapsed. It was like any other times you had fallen, but unlike those times, you heard a loud crack coming from your foot.

“Oh, shit! Are you alright?” Hoseok stopped instantly and squatted beside you. “Of course you’re not fine. Why did I even ask that?” He mumbled more to himself.

“Which foot was fractured? Can you try moving them?”

You, ever so carefully, tried to move each of your feet. Weirdly enough, you were pretty sure your left one was the one fractured, but you felt a sharp pain when you moved your right one.

You voiced your thoughts, “Umm… I’m not sure which one is fractured. I think it’s the left one, but the right one is more painful.”

Hoseok sighed. “We need to go to the hospital. Here, let me carry you.”

“Wait, I-”

Like you weighed nothing, he heaved you and carried you bridal style. Instinctively, you circled your arms around his neck, his very sweaty and veiny neck. But during this critical moment, a sweaty neck wasn’t on the top of your priorities.

“I don’t think this is necessary,” you said even though the pain on your feet had subsided a bit from being lifted off the ground.

“Absolutely.” He grabbed your bag and turned off the lights. “It would be better if we can use the stretcher, but since I’m alone, we have to settle with this. Sorry if this is uncomfortable.” He walked out of the studio and locked it before walking off to the parking lot.

You estimated that the entire walk from the studio to the parking lot must’ve taken around 10 minutes. At this point, you were 100% sure you felt like a dead weight for him. Yet, he still kept walking while holding you as if it was nothing. It was either you overestimated your weight, or he was stronger than you thought. Your bet was on the second one.

During the ride to the hospital, you racked your brain for a way to say thank you while actually sounding like you were grateful instead of just for formality. But after minutes had passed, you came up with nothing so you just settled with the old “thank you so much”. You just prayed he could see your sincerity through you.

“Don’t mention it. This is what I always do every time someone is injured.”

True to his words, when he entered the emergency room with you in his arms, a nurse yelled his name and directed you two to an empty bed.

“What happened?” the nurse asked as Hoseok carefully lowered you on the bed.

In an instant, the comforting heat radiating off of him disappeared. In exchange for his warmth, you felt the cold mattress and the typical freezing hospital room.

“The usual. But she said that both her feet hurt.” He gestured to you.

“I’m going to call a doctor, okay?” Without waiting for an answer from you, the nurse left.

Once the doctor came, you explained in detail what happened with Hoseok butting in sometimes to add completely unnecessary details. He said things like, “we were almost done with the class”, or, “we were alone there.” Lucky for him, your pain stopped you from wanting to strangle him.

You talked more about possible treatments, how long it would take, and most importantly, how much it would cost. In the end, it was decided that you needed an x-ray.

“You can leave now if you want. I’ll be alright,” you told him right after the doctor told you to wait for the x-ray. The guilt of making him do all of these was starting to eat you inside out.

You had felt guilty from falling multiple times, and now you fell to the point you broke your ankle. If it was possible, you felt ten thousand times more guilty. And the fact that he wasn’t even complaining at least once made you feel like a disappointment.

Maybe it was better if the earth swallowed you whole right now.

He shook his head as he sat on the chair beside the bed. “No way. How will you get home?”

Crap, he was right. There was no way you could walk by yourself after all this. Or call a taxi. Just imagining you had to wear a cast and a crutch already made you shudder. This was going to be a long month, or months, for you.

“You must feel tired now. You’ve been here for-” You glanced at the clock behind his head. “-around an hour now.”

“Do you have a friend you can call over?”

The question hit you more than it should’ve. Your friends, the same people who indirectly forced you to try dancing, all lived across the city. You knew there was no way they would be willing to spend their Friday night at the hospital with you. In your mind, you could already imagine them going out on a fancy dinner, cuddling with their partner, or watching a movie.

Your lack of response was an answer in itself.

“It’s okay. I don’t have anything to do anyways.”

“You don’t have any more students? Tonight? Tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “You’re my last student for the week.” He stopped for a while before continuing, “And my most interesting one.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Interesting? How?”

“You made me think of… things, basically, clearly.”

“Like what?”

He took a deep breath before answering, “I’ve been the best dancer, performer, whatever you wanna call it. And after I started teaching too, I became the best dance teacher in the city. Like, you must’ve already known that from the tariffs of my classes.”

You nodded.

“But since you came to my class a few months ago, things have changed. I just lost… my confidence in my teaching. Maybe my methods are wrong or I need a different approach or maybe-” His words caught in his throat. “-I don’t cut it to be a teacher.”

Your eyes widened at his words. He had mistaken your inability to do athletic stuff for his bad teaching.

“I think you got it all wrong,” you said urgently.

You didn’t want him to think he was a bad teacher. He was, in fact, far from that. So far, you’ve never met a teacher even half as nice as him or half as understanding as him.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “How?”

You hesitated for a moment. Were you really going to out yourself? Your heart screamed, “yes!” at that.

“Well, you see, I’m not the best at, you know, physical stuff. I was actually setting myself up for failure by trying out dancing.” You saw him frowning even further. You let out a nervous giggle. This was a bad idea, but you were already in too deep anyways. “I know this is confusing. My friends have told me that a lot of times.”

A few seconds of silence passed. Hoseok just stared at you, probably trying to figure you out, who knew. You were just weird like that.

Finally he broke the silence. “Can you drive?”

The question caught you off guard. “What?”

“Driving?”

“Of course I can.” You looked down on your injured feet. “Well, not for a while, I guess.”

“And I take it you never accidentally kill someone, right? Or else you wouldn’t be here, you’d be in jail.”

This time, you were the one frowning. Where was this conversation heading? Nonetheless, you nodded your head, answering his question silently.

He, for the first time after you broke your ankle, broke into a grin. “Then you’ll be fine. And I don’t think you set yourself up for failure.” He pouted. “Don’t ever say that again.”

You smiled back at him. “Okay.”

A few moments later, you were called to do an x-ray.

Wordlessly, Hoseok hoisted you up and put you on a wheelchair he found nearby. With that, he pushed you towards the x-ray room. You weren't going to lie for the fact that it kinda felt nice to be pushed by a handsome guy. On the other side, it only made you feel even more guilty.

Once you arrived in front of said room, a nurse took you in and told Hoseok to wait outside.

With your clumsiness, this obviously wasn’t your first time getting x-rayed. So you didn’t really feel nervous, not at all. Plus, you were significantly older than the last time you got x-rayed. There was nothing to be scared of, right?

Who were you kidding? Of course you’d be scared. Your heart thumped loudly against your chest, you wondered if the nurse could hear it. Probably she could, but even if she could, she didn’t say anything.

Okay, then. Maybe you should focus on something else. What about something to tell Hoseok about his fear? You didn’t do a great job of comforting him. Instead, he was the one comforting you. The hell was that about, Y/n?

Without you even realizing, since you were so focused on Hoseok’s fear, the x-ray was over and you were pushed out of the room. Phew… Wasn’t that easy? But you still haven’t thought of something to tell Hoseok, though. Nevermind, you’d probably be better off improvising.

Hoseok sat on the long bench in front of the x-ray room with a small plastic bag in his hand. You were sure he didn’t have that before. Beside him, sat the nurse who accepted you into the emergency room who now was talking animatedly to him.

For the first time since you entered the hospital, you got the chance to take a good look at the nurse.

Her outfit hugged her curves perfectly, no weird bumps or creases. It was as if the fit was tailored just for her. Her hair was up and away from her face in a tight and neat bun. Her makeup faded here and there from the long hours of working, no surprise there. And her glasses only complemented her whole look, making her look beautiful yet strong at the same time.

Looking at her made you wonder about how you looked in comparison.

You were still in your work out clothes that you designated for dancing. They were saggy in weird places as a sign of old age and definitely had been left forgotten in your wardrobe for a long time because you didn’t work out. The leather in your shoes also flaked in some places, indicating that you needed to buy a new pair. You knew not to buy them, though, remembering you weren’t athletic.

As you looked down on your clothes, you realized there was a giant blob of sauce stain just in between your boobs. Where- What? How did you get that? And why hadn’t you realized it until now?

You abruptly stopped yourself from self pity as the nurse pushed you closer to them. If you didn't have beauty or grace or sexiness, at least you had confidence.

The nurse Hoseok was talking to was the first to notice your arrival.

She stood up and asked you, “Are you alright? Do you need a painkiller?”

She was nice, too. No wonder Hoseok would be interested in her.

For a second you imagined what it felt like for someone to be interested in you. You haven’t felt that in a long time. Not that you missed the feeling, you were content with being single and had no intention to date anyone. At least not while your ankles still hurt.

You shook your head. “It’s not that painful.” You turned to the nurse who pushed your wheelchair. “When will the result come out?”

“In a few minutes. For now, you can wait here or in the emergency room.”

You looked at Hoseok, expecting him to answer for you.

He immediately took the cue. “We’ll wait here. Thank you.”

“Alright. I’ll direct you to the doctor’s office once the results are out.”

You mumbled a “thank you” before the nurse left.

The other nurse, who talked to Hoseok earlier, though, didn’t leave as much as you wanted her to. Instead, she sat back beside him and continued the conversation like nothing happened. Like you weren’t even there.

“When I get off my shift later, do you want to grab supper?” she asked while batting her thick lashes. Were nurses allowed to wear fake lashes, you wondered.

Just like the Hoseok you knew, he turned down the offer politely. “Sorry, I don’t really eat supper.”

She pouted in an attempt to look cute. But honestly, with the makeup and sexy clothes, her cuteness was uncalled for.

Gosh you wished you were as sexy or pretty as her, surely you could get any man you want. Nope, you were still happy with being single.

“What about tomorrow? I get bored on Saturdays.”

“I-” His eyes flicked around the room. “I need to check my schedule first.”

Her face lit up. “Text me, okay?” And just like how she didn’t wait for your answer earlier, she left without waiting for his.

You grimaced at their awkward conversation. “She seems… nice.” It came out more like a question.

He exhaled long and hard as if he held his breath the entire time. “And too much.”

“What-?” you sputtered. “She was blatantly asking you out.”

“Yeah, I know that. That’s why she’s too much.”

A question crossed your mind. “Have you known each other for a long time?”

“Not really. But since the number of my students blew up, injuries became more common, so...”

“Oh.” You nodded understandingly.

You suddenly remembered that you had to comfort him.

“You’re actually a great teacher, you know. At least that’s the review from Google. You have 4.8 stars! That’s awesome.” At this point you just blurted out anything nice to him. “My favorite restaurant only has 3.6 stars.” And by anything, you meant everything.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Thanks?"

“No problem.”

“What about you, though? What do you think of my teaching skills?”

Once again, his questions caught you off guard.

It was still fresh in your mind about the day you signed up for a class with him. How he answered all your questions with his smile never leaving his face. The day of your first class with him, he explained the basics with so much patience. He never said no whenever you asked him to show the moves again and again and again. And today, he took you to the hospital and even waited with you through all the procedures.

He was an extraordinary teacher. And person.

But there was no way you could say all that. It would only embarrass you more.

“I think you’re… nice.”

He furrowed his eyebrows deeper at your words. He surely would get wrinkles early if he kept frowning like that. And that would be so bad for his handsome face.

Okay, maybe it was better if you said all that in the first place.

“I mean,” you spoke up again, trying to redeem yourself. “You’re the best teacher I’ve ever met. You’re nice, understanding, and patient. Something I rarely see in other teachers.” And handsome, you wanted to add, but it was a story for another day.

He finally no longer furrowed his eyebrows.

“May I ask you a question?” he asked quietly.

Another question from him wouldn't hurt, right? “Sure.”

“Why did you decide to try dancing if you knew you weren’t good with ‘physical stuff’?” He did the airquote thing. “Sorry if it’s too personal.”

“No, it’s alright.” You chuckled. “Remember the friends that kept telling me I’m clumsy?”

He nodded.

“Well, they were kinda the reason.”

“Okay…”

You took a deep inhale. “We’ve been friends since the third grade of primary school. We’re basically inseparable. But as close as we are, we have different lives.”

“I understand.”

“One is an athlete. She’s a swimmer and takes part in a lot of national championships. The second one is not as athletic, but she does golf in her free time. She’s extremely good, though. The last one is a pole dancer and she really takes pride in it. So far, I’m the only one who doesn’t really do physical things. In fact, I’m not into physical activities at all.”

“That’s alright. Everyone is different. What do you do?”

“I loved studying.”

“Loved?”

You took multiple deep breaths to prepare yourself to come with the truth. “They always make fun of me for liking reading over physical activities. Until one point I can’t even look at books anymore.” You bit your bottom lip. “They even made a different pact and left me out.”

Books were an important part of your life. And reading was the only time when you could let yourself go from the harshness of the world. The time when you could forget your problems, or even who you were, for a little while. Knowing your friends didn’t like that made you question yourself.

“I think studying is important.” He commented. “If no one is studying, no one will get to be anything.”

“I know that. And I wanted to learn how to be more physically active. That’s why I took this dancing class.” Then you added, ”It’s actually my last resort. I’ve tried and failed other activities.”

“I don’t think you should listen to them. Even your oldest friends can’t be right all the time.” He smiled reassuringly. “Thanks for sharing your problem with me. I’m gonna show you just how amazing non-physical activities can be.”

He looked down on his lap and immediately handed you the plastic bag he'd been holding. "The nurse gave it to me, but you can have it instead."

You accepted the bag and peered inside. There was a loaf of bread, still looking fresh and warm.

After that, everything just flew by. Maybe because you were tired and the day was almost over, or maybe because you had Hoseok beside you, who made waiting felt fun. Or maybe both, who knew.

Soon the results came out and the nurse took you to the doctor’s office with Hoseok following in tow. The doctor explained everything and helped you, along with Hoseok, to get used to walking with crutches. You were also given some pills to ease the pain. And after all that, off you go.

You were back in Hoseok’s car, heading home. Somehow, the smell of his obnoxious orange car freshener smelt comforting compared to the hospital’s disinfectant.

“You really shouldn’t have waited for me.” You glanced at the time on your phone. It was almost midnight. “It’s really late now. I’ll have to give you a big tip later.”

He laughed. It sounded like heaven in your ears. “There’s no need for that. I’m just concerned with your health. Plus, I do this to all of my students. Think of it like part of my service.”

You giggled. “Alright, if you say so.”

He snorted. “One time, a student was even left all day in the hospital by their parents so I had to wait overnight until they came.”

“That’s horrible. Don’t they care about their kid?”

"They do. But they care more about their alcohol."

"I take it they were drunk while their kid was injured?"

"Apparently their stress response is getting drunk."

"Oh my…"

"When I say you're not even half bad as my other students, you have to believe it."

Proving to you one more time about how much of a gentleman he was, once you arrived at your apartment building, he parked his car and helped you out of the car. He guided you all the way to your apartment, making sure you weren't hurt on the way. Maybe you really should find a man like him. Or maybe… him himself?

Nah, you weren’t looking for a partner, remember?

He helped you settle down and was about to leave when he stopped in the middle of the doorway.

He turned around. “Wait. Do you live here alone?”

“Why?”

Instead of answering your question, he blurted another question. “Does your family live nearby?”

“They live outside of the city. Why?”

He looked like he was deep in thought before shaking his head. “Nothing. I’ll just come back tomorrow to help you since you’re alone.”

You weren’t one to stop a handsome guy from helping you, but you already owed so many favours for him.

“You have a date with the nurse, remember?”

He scoffed. “I told her I need to check my schedule. Looks like it’ll be full.”

Okay…

A question suddenly came out of your mouth, "Why do you keep helping me? I have no use for you. I can't attend your classes anymore."

It was true. You wouldn’t be able to do any physical activities, including dancing, for a few months. Not to mention your lack of athletic abilities that would demotivate you from trying to dance again even after you recovered.

At first, he looked startled. His eyes widened and mouth agape. But then he quickly regained his composure before answering, "Is it wrong if I think of us as… friends? Are we not friends after all of this?" He gestured to your leg.

You gestured to your surroundings. "But friends don't do this. My friends don’t do this.”

"Don’t base your understanding on them. They're not good friends, Y/n. I'm sorry.”

“But-” You really wanted to counter his argument, defend your oldest friends. But you knew deep down that he was right and there was nothing you could do.

“Let me be a good friend for you, okay?" he said as he linked his pinky to yours. Marking his promise and the start of your friendship.

He wasn’t one to break promises and you knew it firsthand. Had you known him before, you would’ve tossed your friends long ago.

Over the course of a week, he’d shown you care more than what you’ve gotten from your friends your entire friendship.

He cooked you breakfast, because he said that you had to stop eating junk food if you wanted to recover fast.

“Athletic or not, health is very important,” he said.

“Yes.”

“That means you need to eat healthy, Y/n.” He rolled his eyes. “And don’t even try to give me the puppy eyes, it won’t work on me.”

He force fed you your meds when you intentionally forgot about them.

“I put your meds directly beside your glass and you still managed to forget?” he yelled. “Drink it, or I’ll leave this instant.”

At his threat, you immediately took them. You enjoyed his company and weren’t ready to have him leaving you.

Because he noticed how sullen you looked when you realized you couldn’t go out, he tried to cheer you up by dancing crazily to a song playing on the TV. He waved his arms randomly and went around you while yelling incomprehensibly.

“Can you feel the energy, Y/n?” he asked in between his yells.

“No. Stop before the neighbors complain! You’re too loud!” You cupped both ears with your hands.

“Tell me you feel the energy then I’ll stop.”

You chuckled. “Fine. Yes, I feel the energy. Now, stop!”

He abruptly stopped and threw himself beside you on the couch.

“Ew, you’re sweaty. Get off of my couch!”

Among everything that Hoseok had to help you with, adulting was the hardest. In particular, the working part of adulting. Obviously, you needed to take a leave for a month and in order to do that, you first had to go through your boss’ wrath. Fortunately, a certain man with the stage name j-hope was ready to help you.

“It’s gonna be easy. I mean, how scary can bosses be.” He dismissed your worries with a wave of his hand.

“Very scary, I warn you.”

Contrary to his belief, after the phone call with your boss ended, Hoseok was scarred for life. Bosses were indeed scary, especially your boss.

With wide eyes, he whispered, “Never ask me to call your boss again. He’s literally a devil in disguise.”

“But did I get permission to take a leave?”

“Oh, shit! I forgot about that.”

“Hoseok!”

When he had a class to teach, you tried to fill the void by texting your older friends. But as expected, they instead made you even worse.

One said, "Hope you get well soon. We'll come back once we're not too busy."

What about the two others? Well, they only read and liked your messages.

That was alright, right? They all had their own lives and were probably busy. It wasn’t like your injury was a big deal anyways… right? There was no need for them to be worried about you or shower you with attention or visit you. Yeah, that was absolutely normal… not.

There was no need for moping around, though. The next day, your old friends and your knight in hypebeast clothes came over. Yes, said knight was Hoseok. Yes, they came at the same time. It was okay to have a handsome man and your way-past-hormonal-stage friends to be in the same place at the same time. Or at least that was what you initially thought.

"Y/n," one of your friends said with a frown on her face. "What happened? We were so worried."

You almost wanted to roll your eyes. They didn't seem that worried when you texted them yesterday.

“And who’s this?” another friend asked while staring at Hoseok. And it wasn’t a nice stare either, more like a judging stare.

You scowled, but still tried to keep some decency. “This is my friend slash dance teacher, Hoseok. Hoseok, these are my friends that I told you about.”

The last one of your friends was the first to shake his hand. “Wow. Is that so? I hope you only hear nice things.”

At that, both you and Hoseok faked a laugh. Your friends didn’t seem to realize though.

“Yeah, nice things indeed,” you commented once your laugh died down.

You were in the middle of talking and catching up with your friends while Hoseok interjected here and there when you needed to go to the restroom. Both to relieve yourself and to hide from the awkwardness for a while. It always felt weird to merge two friend groups.

“Guys, Imma go pee for a bit, okay?”

Hoseok instinctively stood up to help you, but you gestured to him to sit back down. “I got this, don’t worry.” You gave him a small smile and went to the bathroom.

Sure it did take longer for you to just pee compared to when you weren’t injured, but it still didn’t take too long in your opinion. The cast made everything more complicated, but not particularly harder. However, when you were flushing down the toilet, you heard some talking noises, way louder than usual. It sounded more like angry yellings. And as you were washing your hands, you heard a slam of a door. What was happening?

Couldn’t stand to not know what just happened any longer, you quickly finished your business and went out, only to find your once full-of-guests living room now bare with just Hoseok in it. All the while, Hoseok was cleaning up the coffee table while humming a tune.

“Where-?"

You didn’t even get to finish your question when he answered, “Your friends left.“

“So soon?”

He shrugged as he tossed away the cloth he used to clean. “They probably have things to do.”

“And they didn’t even say goodbye to me.” You sighed and plopped yourself on the couch. “I only heard loud noises and a door closing. They didn’t say anything to you?”

“Nope. But, I told them to get their life together before criticising people.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Never in your friendship with your friends had you ever told them off like that. Sure they weren’t that nice, but you didn’t feel it was right to do that. Yeah, you were pretty much a coward. You scared your friends would leave you.

But to have Hoseok said that? Sure it was nice for your friends to know they were jerks, but you were surely going to lose your friends now.

You huffed and your shoulders sagged.

“What did they even do?” you asked as you watched him taking a seat beside you.

“You’ll find out. It’s better if you know it first from them.”

His answer only made you more curious and mull over what could have happened. What did they do that made a nice person like Hoseok say such a thing? Why did they leave abruptly? Would they end your friendship because of that? Would they ever explain to you what happened? So many questions were running through your head, but you couldn’t even guess the answer for any of them.

Hoseok knew how much you were distraught by what happened, so he, being the sunshine that he was, took you to watch him teaching dance to little kids.

“I’d be the oldest student there,” you whined.

“You come not as a student.” He laughed. “You come as my friend.”

“They’d be embarrassed if I watch along.”

“No way. They’re cool with it.” Then he added, “And cute.”

He wasn’t one to lie. The kids were indeed adorable. And their parents were also nice. While you were talking to the parents, the kids occasionally went to you to show you or ask you something. Mostly to ask you what happened to your foot. But one asked you a question that made your cheek heat up for the rest of the class.

“Are you Uncle Hobi’s girlfriend?”

“Oh- Umm…” you stuttered. “I-”

The parent quickly cut it before you could answer. “Don’t ask a question like that!”

“But I’m curious since he said he likes someone.”

You wondered who he liked, but you knew better than to gossip about romance with a kid. So in the end, you refrained yourself from asking.

Once the class finished, Hoseok came up to you with a proud grin and a sweaty body.

“How was it?”

“You were right. They were cute. But one little birdie told me something.” You smirk.

“Oh, no. I don’t want to see that face.”

“C’mon. Just answer me. Who are you crushing on, Hobi?”

He groaned. “You knew about my crush and the nickname. I shouldn’t have brought you here. This was a bad idea.”

“I think it’s fun,” you teased. “Now, entertain me.”

He sighed. “It’s a girl I know from one of my classes.”

“Not the nurse, huh?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Never the nurse. Did that answer your question?”

“Not really. But I’ll take it for now since you’re stinky. Go take a shower!”

“Yes, ma’am.” He laughed.

His Friday schedule, that used to be filled with a class with you, was now empty. He was a high-demand teacher, his empty classes were almost instantly filled, but no one really wanted to have a class on a Friday evening. That was reserved for laying in bed and nothing else.

So, instead of letting you mope around during the time which you should have been having a class, Hoseok took you to his secret space on the other side of the dance studio. Secret space because no one in the world knew what was inside aside from him and one curious student that accidentally found it.

Hope World was the name. Such a fitting name for a place with a warm atmosphere, two huge speakers, several smaller speakers, and two giant monitors. There were also a lot of hypebeast plushies and decorations. On the couch, on the table, even on the floor, covering most of the surface in the room.

You took a seat on the couch while feeling its soft surface beneath your hand. “What is this place?”

“This is where I make music. I’m a dance teacher by day and a music producer by night.” He grinned.

“Why did you decide to show me this? This seems… personal.”

“Because I want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with doing the things you like.” He turned on the computer and played a song.

“The song is called Blue Side. For a long time, I have had problems finishing this song. But then I found the final piece.”

“What was it?”

“I needed to let go of my past happiness for a greater happiness,” he answered without hesitation, as if he already rehearsed that. “That’s kinda the gist of the song, too. And I think you need that advice right now.”

He was right. Sacrificing your past happiness that was your old friends would probably change your life drastically. You needn't seek their validation in anything you do. Only you mattered because you were the one living your life. Question was, were you ready to let them go?

You looked at him in his eyes. A small smile played on your lips. “Thank you.”

He smiled back before going back to his computer to change the song.

“Okay enough of depressing shit. Let’s dance!” He carefully took your hands in his and pulled you up on your feet.

“I can’t dance,” you whined. “With or without the cast.”

“We’re not doing that kind of dance, you doofus. We’re just swaying along to the song.” He wrapped an arm around your waist so you could follow his sways easier. On instinct, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He swayed ever so slightly, following along the rhythm of the song. The melody filled around the room, into your ears, and out of it again. Hoseok’s strong hands held you, making sure you were steady and wouldn’t topple over. The smell of the room that was so Hoseok, you were pretty sure he used his own perfume to freshen his room. Yet, among all of these foreign things, you felt just right. You felt home.

Once you got the hang of it, you laughed. “This is the easiest dance move you’ve ever taught me.”

“Glad you think this is the easiest because I don’t know any other easier moves.”

“Well, I’m sorry for being unathletic,” you defended yourself. “I didn’t ask to be born like this.”

“What? Born naturally gorgeous?” Soon after those words left his mouth, he looked anywhere else but you, totally pretending like nothing happened.

With cheeks burning, you complained, “You can’t say that and pretend nothing happened.”

He looked back at you and laughed. “Why? Are you shy?”

You punched his chest in a joking manner.

It was when the song stopped when you realized how close you were to Hoseok. You could even smell his cologne, see his tiny freckles scattered on his face, and feel his breath that smelled like mint, a sure sign he ate too many mints. If he was handsome from a distance, he was mesmerizing up close.

Your eyes found his and you saw how captivating his eyes were. Pools of warm brown eyes, deep enough to drown and hypnotize you. And when he smiled, they turned into crescents with wrinkles at the side. Simply put, he had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen.

Your mind snapped back into reality and you immediately let go of him in a panic. Just as you let him go, he also let you go on instinct, making you unable to keep your balance and struggle to find your footing.

“Oh, shit!” He steadied you again with his hands on your waist. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes widened at the event that just unfolded. “Yeah. Thanks for saving my life again.”

“Just so you know, I don’t mind saving you repeatedly if that’s what I need to do to keep you alright.”

It was safe to say that his words echoed in your mind for the rest of the day.

The next day, your questions from the previous days were answered.

“We’re very sorry about what we did,” one of your friends said as soon as they entered your apartment.

“Is this about when you guys left a few days ago?”

“Yes. But we have a reason for that,” another friend answered.

“And the reason being?” You raised an eyebrow, anticipating what was coming next.

You were no longer sure if you wanted to hear it.

“We-”

“We talked shit about you to Hoseok,” the last one interjected. Always to the point, that one.

“We’re very sorry. I know it was wrong and stupid of us to do that. We get it if you don’t want to befriend us anymore,” the first one spoke up again.

Sure you felt sad, but a part of you knew that this had been happening long before. It was more like you waited for them to finally come clean and confess to them, so you weren’t surprised at all. And with them coming clean, you were relieved. You could finally let them go in peace. Just like what Hoseok had said.

You nodded your head slowly. You didn’t have the strength to even look at them in their eyes. “Thanks for being honest with me and for being my best friends all this time. But everything has an end and I think this is ours.”

“I assume they have apologized?” Hoseok asked after looking at your bright smile. The smile of a person who could finally let go of their burdens.

It was Sunday, the day after your friends confessed, and you were stuck in the library with him. While you wanted to listen more to his songs, he wanted to take you to the library. It took a bit of bickering, but he won in the end since you both had never been to a library together before.

“Yes. Thanks for defending me. You didn’t need to do that.” You reached for a book that was too high.

Hoseok came behind you and grabbed the book before handing it to you. “Hadn’t I done that, they’d still walk all over you.”

Oh how true his words were, but you weren’t going to admit that.

“Whatever. I’m still grateful, though.”

“You’re very welcome.”

You sat at a corner and he followed suit, sitting right beside you.

“And what did you say to them?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t remember, but what’s important is that I cut ties with them. I did exactly what you had taught me.”

“I know you’re a good student. Always diligent and curious. And a fast learner, too.”

“Aren’t you proud of me?” You grinned at him.

“I’m always proud of you, ever since the first day you joined my class.”

Sure, there were days in which you wished you were more athletic, but if it weren’t for your lack of athleticism, you wouldn’t have been this close with Hoseok. Or ending your toxic friendship. So you gotta give the credits where it was due.

“Last lesson, enjoy the things you love to do unapologetically.”

“One question, what was your past happiness?”

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rokutouxei · 3 years

Text

catching your attention

genshin impact | G | 2930 albedo / aether

Aether loves Albedo’s company, but not when he’s ignoring him and has all of his attention focused on sketching… well, him. He’s stubborn and in love enough to find a way to catch Albedo’s attention back.

It starts like this: he and Aether are in the heights of Dragonspine, after a trek on the lookout for a specific, elementally-infused kind of starsilver. A blizzard had trapped them into a small cave, and it was an easy decision to make that it would be better if they wait it out instead of daring to walk back to the alchemist’s camp at the foot of the mountain.

Albedo starts a fire with some wood he’d found and some sort of pyro potion in his bag. Paimon’s line of sight goes back out to the white-gray of the hailstorm.

“Looks like we’ll be out here all night,” she muses. “Paimon hopes we can get out soon because I’m getting hungry.”

Aether pulls out a sandwich from his bag as if by second nature. “Mora meat?”

“Mora meat!” Paimon exclaims, before snatching the food from his hands. With that, she retreats to the other side of the fire, happily munching on her snack.

Aether has memorized all the necessary tricks to get Paimon off his back, and like this… with Albedo so close… well, it would be a shame not to use them.

Said alchemist is sat down on one side of the fire, and Aether crouches down by him, a serious expression on his face. “We won’t have time to finish your experiment by tonight,” he says, rather guiltily. “Sorry.”

While his elemental sight may have made their trip much easier, they still ended up making a turn in two in the wrong direction, taking up extra time. Albedo only shakes his head. “It’s alright. The materials aren’t time-sensitive. They can wait until tomorrow. On the other hand, I will have to apologize, as this trip will delay your return to Mondstadt and take you away from your Guild duties.”

Aether waves his hands in the air dismissively. “It’s alright, Katheryne isn’t too strict about those,” Aether says. “Not much to sketch in here, though, huh?”

“To the uninterested eye, yes. But the patterns of the rock formations are quite fascinating if they’re to be studied, or perhaps even mapping the interior of the cave.” Albedo pauses. “However… there’s something more involved I’d like to put to paper, if I may.”

Aether cocks his head to the side. “What is that?”

“May I sketch you?”

The traveler blinks, as if not quite believing what he’d heard. “…Me?” he asks, pointing to himself. He faintly recognizes the sharp thrumming of his heart from underneath his shirt. When Albedo nods, he shrugs a little awkwardly, despite being all fire and light on the inside. “If you’ll have me, then alright. Not much intrigue in this face.”

Albedo begins to pull out his sketchbook and some pencils from his bag. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. Sometimes it’s more of memory-keeping than it is about research and alchemic purposes. It’s not every day I get caught in a blizzard with you.”

For some reason, that makes Aether’s face flush. Albedo can be so smooth at times—like he doesn’t even try. “Well, then go for it. It’s an honor to be drawn by you, Chief Alchemist.”

“Please, there are no titles here, just you and me.” Albedo turns toward Aether, who is fidgeting just the littlest bit from nervousness. “Would you mind—facing a little bit—” Before Aether can react, Albedo is reaching out and tilting Aether’s face towards him, fingers on his chin. Aether is sure Albedo can see the up-and-down bob of his throat as he pulls away. It’s alright; he’d caught the redness in Albedo’s ears too, anyway. “There we go. Perfect.”

With that, Aether coughs out remnants of his surprise and nervousness by clearing his throat, and Albedo returns to his seat, hiding behind his sketchbook and pen and faux concentration.

Paimon shakes her head, looking up from her now-empty wrapper of Mora meat. “Silly boys,” she says, with a sigh.

It is pretty obvious to everyone who works with Albedo for even the shortest amount of time that it doesn’t take long for him to get lost in his work; all focus and long attention span and seriousness, he can go at his alchemic experiments for hours without interruption, not even for a drink or a bite or a toilet break. Once he gets into his zone, there’s no stopping him, unless one yanks him forcefully out of his little mind-field, not that many people have ever tried.

It becomes pretty obvious to Aether, ever since that blizzard night on Dragonspine, that the same can be said about Albedo and his sketching.

Albedo likes to draw. What was once specifically for research grew into more of a hobby. Now, when there is nothing urgent to do, he finds himself heading to places where there might be something nice to sketch—scenery, a living thing, an object. He can lose track of time there. He gets engrossed in his work as he catches the details he adores the most. Then after that, he packs his materials and heads off to the next best place.

The alchemist generally likes to draw things that catch his interest, so when he admits that he finds himself wanting to sketch Aether far more often than he thought he would, Aether feels a surge of embarrassment—and still-secret joy—fill him. He thought to himself: this would be the perfect time to get to know Albedo more, maybe get closer to him. No ulterior motives, of course, just wanting to be familiar with a friend, of course…

But Aether quickly finds out that his imaginations of what a sketching session would be are far from reality.

At the start, Albedo sometimes participates in idle chatter, a little ramble on what he’s planning to draw and how he approaches his sketch, but within a few minutes, he goes quiet, and all disappears. It’s just him, his sketch, the visual of his subject, and nothing else. It would probably take something drastic like a trio of geovishaps to truly take him out of this trance-like state, because it’s pretty solid.

(Heck, Aether’s tried. He’s blurted out an I love you! while Albedo was sketching him and the latter hadn’t even noticed. Aether still doesn’t know what to feel about that.)

At this point in their… friendship, Aether wouldn’t dare admit that when he offers a trip out to Starfell Lake or Dragonspine or Stormterror’s Lair, he just wants to hang out with Albedo, not… be forced to sit still and observe his—well, objectively, very rationally, handsome face, his teal eyes, the platinum blonde hair, so soft in its braid, his boyish face, the…

Well, the important thing is, sometimes he just wants to be a ‘more than a friend’, not… a model.

So he tries.

Slowly moves until he’s out of position to see if that will snap Albedo out of it and force him back to place. It doesn’t work. Moves sharply, like he’d gotten a flash of pain and fell out of place. There’s a blink of concern in Albedo’s face for a moment before it disappears, and it doesn’t work. Aether tries singing. Aether tries talking to himself. Aether tries calling out Albedo’s name, louder and louder each time. Hell, there was one time Aether tried to call the attention of a ruin guard. He loves indulging Albedo, loves to see the other man’s works more than the average person, but sometimes he wants his active, conscious presence, not an artist’s focused absence from the world.

Aether knows the drawings could be the smallest admissions of love, the proof that Albedo wants to treasure these memories he has of Aether, but—

He wants Albedo here. In the now.

And Aether is stubborn and will find a way to make that happen.

“What’s the easiest way to catch Albedo’s attention?” Aether asks Paimon once, while they’re off in Liyue, and out of the hearing ears of anyone who could out him ahead of his own confession.

Paimon blinks at him curiously. “You seem to catch his attention pretty easily.”

“No, not like that,” Aether clarifies, “like, interrupting him when he’s drawing or in the middle of an experiment. I don’t know how to talk to him when he gets like that.”

“Have you tried to yell his name?” Aether nods. “Move in front of him? Shout? Surprise him?” Aether nods at everything. “Huh, he’s pretty stubborn when he concentrates.”

“I know. If you have any idea, would you tell me?”

“Of course! Paimon would love to play matchmaker!”

Aether spits out the bite of sunsettia in his mouth. “No!”

“Honorary Knight,” Sucrose greets him, as he enters the Knights of Favonius’ alchemy room. Timaeus confirmed that Albedo was at the Dragonspine camp today, so Aether decides it is safe to visit Sucrose and that she would be alone. “How can I be of assistance?”

“It’s a… bit of a personal matter,” Aether mumbles quietly, sitting on top of one of the empty desks. Sucrose nods and listens patiently, twiddling with her thumbs as he describes the issue at hand.

She makes a face of confusion, then concern, before shifting back to an awkward smile. Her cheeks are pink, as well—god, Aether knows, but what a reminder that this is really such an embarrassing situation he has gotten himself in.

Sucrose says, “I’m afraid even I don’t know how to get his attention when he gets into that state. Mister Albedo is pretty intense about his research, and so we try to make sure to get all questions answered before he begins any experiments. He can go on for hours, after all, and we wouldn’t be able to contact him.”

“I see…” Aether sighs, slowly losing hope that there’s anyone who knows how to solve his little Albedo problem. “Well, thank you for your time, Sucrose. I’m sorry if I interrupted anything.”

“Oh, no, please, any time,” she beams. “If anything, I believe Mister Albedo is very taken by you if his sketches are any indication. I’m sure if there’s anyone who will be able to find a way to get his attention in the middle of his focus, it’s going to be you, Honorary Knight.”

Aether flushes, thanking the gods he’s already got his back turned and on his way to the door. “Thank you, Sucrose!” he calls out, before closing the door behind him.

Geez, who else is he supposed to ask?

“My, if the Honorary Knight himself is offering to buy me a drink, how am I supposed to say no?” Kaeya cheers, seated by the bar in Angel’s Share. Charles had been kind enough tonight to offer Aether a glass of an alcoholic drink as well—but only one, he squints, still doubting his age. Not like Aether can show an ID proving he’s a thousand years old. Kaeya insists on a toast. “How can I help you today, Aether?”

“It’s about Albedo.”

“Ohhh,” Kaeya smirks. “Come to me for relationship problems? I’m flattered.”

“It’s not—” Aether groans. There’s no getting out of this when it’s Kaeya. “Just help me out, okay?”

Surprisingly, Kaeya listens very attentively as Aether describes the situation, especially in the way Aether’s ears get redder and redder with every sentence. And it’s not from the alcohol, either. Kaeya swirls his glass of Death After Noon carefully, “hmmm”-ing and “mmhmm”-ing every few seconds.

“I see. So you want to get your boyfriend’s attention sometimes.”

Aether glares. “He is not—” he sighs. “Yet, at least. I hope.”

“That’s the spirit,” Kaeya laughs, taking a swig of his drink. “You know, there is something I’ve noticed about Albedo when it comes to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes, to you,” Kaeya nods. “See, when we’re in the same room, even if he’s not particularly part of the conversation we are having, if anyone so much as whispers your name, he turns toward the sound like a moth to the flame.”

Aether flushes. “I-is that so.”

“Mhm, definitely so. You can ask Jean and Lisa,” Kaeya says, awfully confident. It takes a moment for Aether to register that even Jean and Lisa know, and he’s a little mortified. “Now, this is a shot in the dark, but how about you try doing it the other way around?”

Whispering? How will that even work? Kaeya’s practical advice is always rather useful, but when it comes to things like these it’s easier to believe that he’s just fooling whoever is asking him, so Aether doesn’t really put much faith in its results. Still, he wishes for the best. Whatever that is.

So one day, when they are over Starsnatch cliff as he gathers cecilias and Albedo sketches the view, “Albedo,” he whispers carefully when he gets close enough, “I love you.”

Albedo tears his gaze away from his sketch and looks at him with surprise in his star-bright eyes.

Aether wills his soul to leave Teyvat at once.

It takes a while for them to negotiate their relationship into blossom. Albedo has long acknowledged it, but now he has to reckon with his emotions, as he tentatively confesses his return of feelings. But that’s far from the end of it, as apologies are exchanged with compromises made between a traveler who has to go out and far away more often than not and an alchemist who only knows his lab and his sketchbook, and very little on love and relationships and affection.

Still, it is there, and now that they’ve both come to light about it, it grows.

(Paimon, upon hearing of this later, sighs in relief.)

“Do you know how many times I’ve confessed to you in the past?” Aether asks, as he and Albedo walk back to Mondstadt, armfuls of cecilias in their hands. “Twenty-five. All of them while you were sketching. You never noticed.”

“I’m sorry,” Albedo says awkwardly, stumbling a little and kicking a pebble out of his path. “It was never my intention to ignore you, but even if so—”

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Aether laughs, nudging him with his shoulder. “At least now you heard it. I can’t believe it’s Kaeya’s advice that would work after all this time. Feels a little silly now.”

“Sir Kaeya is definitely more socially adept and mindful than I am, so I am not as surprised it’s his word that allowed us to get to…” he trails off. “Well, this.”

Aether smiles and to Albedo, it’s like morning.

“I just—I just have one request though, Albedo,” Aether says, as they round the path overlooking Windrise. “I know how important sketching is to you, as an art form and—well, for memory-keeping.”

“You remembered.”

“I did,” Aether nods. “But now, now that we’re—well, this,” he gestures with what of his hand he can move, “I would like it if you could… well, if we could leave the memory-keeping for later, and… turn to memory-making, you know? Live it now, while I’m here, while you’re here.”

Albedo looks like he’s being torn apart for a brief moment, wondering if there’s anything deeper about what Aether had said, but then he relaxes as his eyes turn back to him.

For the here. For the now.

“Anything for you,” he says, voice gentle like cecilias in the wind.

They’re sitting in Starfell Lake in the middle of the night after a venture off the beaches of Stormbearer point. They spent half the entire day with each other, talking and enjoying each other’s company; and now, Albedo is quietly sketching him as he usually does. Aether is looking out at the lake, reflecting on the Statue of the Seven, the first he’d ever seen here in Teyvat, when he spots a little flutter of red coming from the other side of the lake.

“Is that—”

“Ah! Mister Honorary Knight! And Big brother Albedo! It’s me, Klee!”

“Klee? What are you doing out here at this hour?!”

“Fish-blasting! Don’t tell Master Jean! Come with me!”

The little girl in red begins to run towards them, and Aether turns to “wake” the other. “Albedo,” he whispers, and the latter slips out of his trance.

Before he can even ask what is it, Klee’s voice rings clearly through the field again. “Mister Honorary Knight! Big brother Albedo!”

There is, again, that flash of pain in Albedo’s face, eyes trained on the sketch. He’d finished Aether’s eyes but hadn’t fully drawn his braid out yet, just the fluff on his head. Before he can speak, Aether holds his sketching hand in his.

“Albedo. Let’s make memories here.”

The alchemist takes a deep breath and smiles at his boyfriend. “Alright.”

With that, Klee still a few meters away, Aether lifts the sketchbook to cover their faces, hiding them from sight as he presses a sweet kiss on Albedo’s lips, quick and soft.

“What are you doing back there?!” Klee asks, peering from above the sketchbook, just as they’ve parted. There’s a scarlet glow on their faces she can’t quite see in the moonlight—thankfully.

Aether grins as he puts down the sketchbook on the grass, turning to lift Klee in his arms. “Our little secret!”

“Noooo!” Klee frowns, but then laughs as Albedo pats her on the head. “Klee wants in too! Tell Klee!”

Albedo smiles at her and then at Aether. “How about we keep our secret, and we keep your secret from Master Jean?”

Stars form in the little girl’s eyes. “Oh, that’s great! There’s lots of fish to go kaboom!”

Aether and Albedo hold hands all the way to Klee’s favorite fishing spot.

#albether #aebedo #genshin impact #aether #albedo #what tags does this fandom use holy shit #fic #rated:g

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starlightsearches · 3 years

Text

Fences - Modern AU Neighbor! Hux

@aramanna asked: Neighbor!Hux fanfic? Your dog wanders into his yard and you start talking after clearing up the mishap?

Hey friend, thanks for the request! This is kind of a modern version of a post TROS Hux, where he’s a little healthier, I think. The reader is a teacher because I’m a self-indulgent bitch 🥰 Also, I’ve never seen Peter Rabbit, but reading this again I feel like this might just be Thomas McGregor. Let me know if I’m right, I guess 😂😂😂

Warnings: discussion of a family member passing away, mentions of hospice care, maybe language?

When Armitage Hux isn't working, eating, or sleeping, he is in his garden. Which, for him at least, was a lot like work. Even so, he found that it relaxes him; there was something about being outside in the evening light—watering his flowers, picking stray weeds—that made everything clearer. He never had space like this when he lived in the city, but now that he’s away from it all, taking care of this space; it’s made him a better lawyer. Whenever he’s stuck on a case, feeling like he's exhausted every possibility, a few moments with his hands in the soft soil helped him unearth the perfect solution to his problems.

And sometimes you were there, in your own backyard, of course. He wouldn't watch you—that would be wrong—but he couldn't help but notice you through the little gaps in the chain-link fence. Sometimes he found you in your hammock stretched between two trees at the back of your house, your legs the only part of you visible as you swayed in the breeze. Or occasionally you’d spread out a blanket on warm summer days, soaking in the sun as you read.

Every so often he'd get the wild idea that he might say something to you, before changing his mind, or losing his nerve. He hadn’t said more than a handful of words to you since you moved in next door a few months ago—only visiting your doorstep on the rare occasion that your mail was delivered to the wrong house, or he wanted to borrow a cup of flour, or he needed some milk. Lately he’s played with the idea of approaching you about replacing the fence that runs between your houses—a terribly ugly chain link fixture—but he’s been putting that conversation off for some time now, waiting for the right moment.

Today could be the day, though. It’s a quiet Saturday, the last rays of sunlight stretching over the thick green grass, the air alive with the smell of earth as the water trickles from his hose over his many flowers, the sound only interrupted by the occasional passing car.

Hux listens more closely when a new sound is added—the slam of your back door, and then a series of gleeful yips, but he doesn’t let himself turn around just yet, choosing instead to feign indifference for a few more moments. This is the real reason he’s been putting off the conversation about the fence. Your incredibly enthusiastic new puppy has given him twice the opportunity to spend time with you. If you could call it that.

He turns now, after what he thinks is an appropriate waiting period, and you catch his eye, offering him a slight wave, which he returns—with the hand not holding the hose, this time. You’re attention pulled away from him for a moment as you watch the little corgi zip around your small yard, but Hux keeps his eyes on you, appreciating the way you light up with laughter at the dog’s antics.

He could talk to you right now, if he wanted. Could strike up a conversation about something inane, like the weather, invite you over for a drink, or maybe dinner sometime. He doesn’t think you’re seeing anyone, after all—hasn’t noticed any overnight guests, hasn’t seen you picked up for any dates. But maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Your door slams again, pulling him out of his fantasy world, and he turns back to see your yard left empty. Another missed opportunity. Hux doesn’t let himself feel too low about it; there’s always tomorrow.

He wakes early on Sunday morning—always awake before the sun rises—and that suits him just fine, padding through his empty house to the kitchen. Grey light streams in through the windows as the quiet morning sounds fill Hux’s ears: water boiling on the stove, the quiet rustle of cat food as he scoops some more into Millie’s bowl.

Where is Millicent? he wonders to himself—she normally sprints into the room at the first sign of her morning meal, but now he sees no sign of her. Hux wanders into the living room, eyes scanning the floor before he finds her by the sliding-glass door at the back of the house, her eyes watchful, tail swishing back and forth.

“What are you doing, Millie?” he asks, and she turns to look at him with her wide, intelligent eyes, offering him a soft meow in response. He really has to stop doing that, talking to his cat. It’s just another testament to the adverse side-effects of living alone. Millicent stays by the door, turning her eyes back to the glass, and eventually Hux caves, walking to the window, hoping to see something more interesting than a stray bird or squirrel.

Hux gasps as soon as he sees it, yanking open the sliding glass, not bothering to find shoes before he steps out onto the cool, wet grass—still damp from the early morning mist. A soft cry falls from his parted lips while he takes in the damage. His garden, it’s ruined.

He picks his way through the clods of dirt that litter the grass, trying to get a better look. There’s not a flower that’s been left undisturbed, every single one of them ripped from the dirt, mangled, crushed. Totally unsalvageable.

The headache that blossoms behind his eyes is all too familiar as it rears its ugly head. He thought he had left it behind with the Order—the unpleasant reminder that there’s so little he has control over, that something always goes wrong. Now it’s back with a vengeance.

Hux hears the little yip from the far side of the yard and turns to look, hoping to catch the culprit that had destroyed all his hard work. He sees the bushy little tail, wiggling as the intruder paws through the soft, brown earth, and he recognizes it immediately. His suspicions are confirmed when he turns the other way, notices the gap created at the bottom of the fence that separates your property from his.

The dog yelps when Hux grabs him and immediately begins to squirm, trying to get free, but Hux holds on tight, stomping back through the grass all the way to your front door, breathing hard. He knocks three times in loud, rapid succession, and he only has to wait for a moment before it opens.

As soon as Hux sees you, his anger vanishes, and a cacophony of other emotions takes its place. Embarrassment is first—you’re standing there in your pajamas, squinting into the first rays of sunlight peeking up over the houses across the street as you rub some leftover sleep from your eyes, and Hux just now realizes that he is also still in his sleepwear: an old t-shirt and some boxers, a ratty, blue robe thrown over his shoulders.

“Hello, Armitage,” you greet him with a smile, the sound of his name on your lips bringing a blush to his cheeks. You’ve always called him Armitage, ever since one of his stray bills had found its way into your mailbox, and he’s never had the courage to let you know nobody calls him by his first name. “Did you need someth-”

You gasp before you can finish, finally noticing the writhing little dog in his hands, and you reach for it immediately, pulling it in close to your chest. “Noodle!” Hux tries to process the exclamation before he realizes you’re still talking to the corgi—that must be his name. You turn your attention back to Hux and he pulls his robe closed over his pajamas, wrapping his arms over his chest. He needs to tell you about the fence, his garden. He can’t let himself get distracted.

You’re talking again before he gets the chance to formulate a sentence, holding the little dog against your hip like a baby, where he rests without wiggling, occasionally licking at your bare arm, looking up at you with his soft puppy eyes. “Thank you for bringing him back, I didn’t even realize he had gotten out of the yard,” you say, “I didn’t leave the gate open, did I?” Hux pauses, wondering how he should break the news to you. You still haven’t noticed the dirt covering the little demon’s paws, and you look at him with such innocence that for a moment, he thinks he should just leave and take care of the mess himself.

His silence says enough, your face falling when you first realize what it could mean. You look to the dog’s paws, then see the mud caking his fluffy little legs. “Oh no, he didn’t . . . “

“You should see for yourself.”

Hux watches as you take in the wreckage that was once his garden. You don’t say anything for a few minutes, just standing, staring. He had been so angry when he had first seen the carnage, but looking at it for a second time, he can’t find any of the leftover rage anywhere inside of him, especially not now, as he’s seeing it through your eyes. You look like you’re about to cry.

“I’ll pay for a new fence,” you say, turning to look at him with such urgent sadness, “and I’ll buy you new flowers. I’ll plant them all myself.”

“That’s- that’s not necessary,” Hux stutters out a response, looking away from you, back to the destroyed flower patch. He can’t stand to see you like this, so torn up over a silly garden, and with every passing moment he grows more and more sure that you’ll never want to speak to him again after this, if he doesn’t make things right. “It wasn’t your fault.”

You reach out to him, your grip firm where it rests on his arm. “Please,” you say, and you’re not just asking, you’re begging, “please, let me help. I can fix this.”

Hux looks down to the place where your hand rests against the arm of his robe, watches the way your fingers flex against him, and his heart softens, lifting his eyes to meet yours again. He gives you the smallest nod, watching as your face lights up with joy, relief, and for a moment, he finds himself feeling incredibly grateful for your silly, little dog.

___________________________________________

Hux looks back, as he wanders through the aisles of his favorite greenhouse, checking, once again, to make sure that you’re still following him before placing a few marigolds in the cart with a small cough. You had admitted pretty early on in your negotiations that you didn’t know much about gardening, but you had still insisted on helping, and Hux just couldn’t say no.

You’re easy to be around, he finds quickly, despite his nerves. He had been afraid that the rest of his day would be filled with awkward silences and stilted conversation, but words flow like water between you. You had spent the drive here telling him stories about your students, about what life was like before you moved, about the family and friends you left behind, and how much you missed them.

“Why’d you leave?” he asks absentmindedly, searching through the pansies for the healthiest of the bunch, his eyes searching for you again when you don’t immediately respond.

“My grandmother,” you begin, suddenly melancholy again, “I used to live with her every summer here. She left her house to me when she passed. I don’t know if you remember her.”

Hux thought back, easily conjuring the image of his old neighbor in his mind. She was a sweet lady who dropped off cookies to his porch when he first arrived at his new home, or occasionally asked him for help hanging a painting, carrying in her groceries. She had been the one who had found Millicent, when she was still a stray. He still remembers how sheepish she had looked, asking if he would take care of the little kitten while she found it a new home. I’d look after her myself, she had said, standing on his doorstep with the little orange bundle in her arms, but I’m not as young as I used to be.

“I remember her,” he says, and you smile again, “ but I didn’t know her that well.”

“She liked you-” you push the cart forward a little, nudging him with your shoulder as you pass, and the contact leaves him struggling for air, “I called her a lot, when she first started to get sick. She always talked about your flowers,” your voice grows thick, and you clear your throat, “she insisted that they put her hospice bed by the big window in the kitchen, so she could still see them whenever she wanted.”

You keep walking, steps a little more hurried now, maybe so he won’t see you tear up. Hux follows closely behind, still trying to process everything he had just learned. He could make sense of your reaction to the flowerbed fiasco now, why you had looked so distraught.

“She mentioned you,” Hux says, walking quickly to catch up with you, “now that I think about it. She’d tell me I’d have to stay for dinner some night, so I could meet her favorite grandchild.”

You laugh, your eyes lighting up in a way that makes his heart drop to his stomach. “That sounds like her; she was always quite the matchmaker,” you respond, before your eyes grow wide with embarrassment, and you realize what you’ve just said. Hux can feel his cheeks grow warm as well, and neither of you breathe, staring at each other in the middle of the aisle. He can scarcely let himself believe it, but it’s impossible to deny, the way you glance down at his lips, your own parting in response. Hux leans in, just slightly, just enough to feel the heat of your skin. He’s not sure if it’s your perfume or the air of the greenhouse, but everything smells like flowers, and desire, a heady scent that goes straight to his head as he watches you close the gap between his face and yours, your eyes still focused on his mouth, your breathing hard.

There’s a slight cough, and then a giggle, and you both turn at the same time, looking to the end of the aisle. Hux can feel his blush grow deeper when he sees the intruders, a group of girls—high school age, he thinks—watching you with wide eyes and mischievous grins.

“Sorry,” one of them says, and the other two break into fits of laughter again, “we were just trying to get through.” You move the cart out of the way good-naturedly as they move past, barely able to contain their laughter as they glide by.

You look at Hux again, but the moment is lost, to his dismay. You clear your throat, looking back at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Is there anything else that we need?” you ask, and he scans the cart in front of you, absolutely overflowing with flowers.

“I think that’s it,” he says, turning back to you. “Let’s go.”

___________________________________________

Golden rays of sunlight pour in through every window in Hux’s kitchen, the warmth of the day just beginning to fade into a quiet, twilight-kissed evening. You’re resting against his kitchen counter, eyes wandering around the space, but Hux keeps his eyes on you as he pours some water into a glass. You’re glowing, he thinks, and it’s not just the sunset. Your eyes are brighter, skin glistening with sweat before you swipe the back of your arm over your forehead to collect the stray perspiration. A soft breeze blows in through the open windows, a breeze that smells like freshly-planted flowers and the first inklings of nightfall.

Hux hands you the glass, and you take it with a smile, drinking deeply. You had both worked through the heat of the day, side by side, planting and watering and cleaning, everything about it natural, easy. He had shown you how to remove the plants from their temporary pots, brush the soil from their roots—watched as you created small indentations in the new dirt, the gentle work of your hands, and he thought back to the greenhouse, and the smell of flowers and your skin.

You finish draining the glass, wiping away a stray droplet of water that travels down your neck before you catch it with your fingers. He moves in closer. He doesn’t want to lose this moment.

There’s a stray smudge of dirt on your cheek, and he brushes it away with the pad of his thumb, pulling his attention to you.

“Thank you, for this,” you whisper, and you smile at his confusion, “for letting me help. I would have felt really guilty if you had to do that all alone.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hux is thrumming, his heart a live-wire. Just being this close to you has filled him with fire—twin sunsets, one inside his chest and the other flooding through the windows.

“I’ll get the fence repaired, as well,” you set your glass down on the counter behind you before lifting yourself onto its surface, sitting with your legs dangling, leaning forward so you can look him directly in the eyes. “Or we can get it replaced, if you’d rather-”

It’s more than he can bear, this small talk, more than he can take to be so close to you and be forced to think of you being so far away, to have you anywhere but with him, in his kitchen, his garden, his bedroom. He kisses you before you can finish your thought, before he can think about being alone again while you’re on the other side of the fence—a whole life-time away.

“I don’t want to talk about fences anymore,” he mumbles against your lips, barely able to hear himself over the sound of your breathing, intoxicated by the feel of you. You pull him closer, wrapping your arms more tightly around his shoulders, and suddenly, fences are the furthest thing from his mind.

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