Hey!! This is for the prompt meme! I’d love to see you do 1 or 30 for James/Vesper, because I think it would be interesting to get your take on them. But also feel free to ignore that and write for any other pairing :)
the love that does not rust
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Canonical Character Death (Vesper Lynd)
Relationships: James Bond/Vesper Lynd
Word Count: 860
Summary:
The first time he said it was on a beach on Lake Como, but it hadn't been the last.
[Read below or on AO3.]
I wonder if that’s why I love you.
The first time he said it was on a beach on Lake Como, but it hadn't been the last.
I love you.
Well, I’m hopelessly in love; nothing to be done about it.
I don’t know why I love you, you know. You take so much pleasure in being awful to me.
Every night, they would lie together skin to skin. Work up a sweat in the summer heat, then relish the burn of their muscles in the aftermath. Trace the marks they left on each other, then shudder through their sensitivity for one last touch. Another would inevitably arrive, then another, and another. The evening breeze always felt like heaven.
Love felt like heaven.
Vesper felt like heaven.
A bird interrupted his declarations one night in Padua. It flew right into their hotel room, tiny, clueless and frightened. Vesper squealed with horrified delight.
In the tiny streets of Bergamo’s Upper Town, he murmured the words into her hair. She grasped his hand so hard he thought would bruise.
In Verona, she sprung out of bed at one in the morning, determined to run to Juliet’s balcony and see it without the crowds. Neither of them could stop smiling. She was loud, her mood utterly infectious as she called out Romeo! Romeo! and grasped him by the collar of his t-shirt to drag him into a wild and filthy kiss.
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night, he’d quoted. Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear. Of course, he followed that up with a joke about what he could do with his rude hand.
He kept the rest of the quote to himself. There was no need to ask the trite questions of a bloody sixteen-year-old boy.
Did my heart love till now? Rubbish. James knew it hadn’t.
By the time they got to Venice, Vesper must have lost count of how many times he’d told her. She never once said it back, even after she implored him to keep saying it.
Tell me again, she’d say.
Are you sure you want to hear it?
You could say it a hundred times a day, darling. I’d never get tired of hearing it.
The one-sidedness never bothered him at the time. It still seemed worthwhile to tell her, to make her sure of it. There was no point in diluting his feelings or hiding them away. She already knew everything there was to know about him. He was all in, and he wanted her to know it.
The necklace, however, did bother him, not that there was much to be done about it. It stayed around her neck until that morning, always visible every day, despite the hundred times she fiddled with it as if she were about to take it off.
He thought when she took it off, she might admit it: that she was in love, too. She might even admit what that look on her face was about, the momentary flicker between whatever expression had been there before he said it and the wide, beaming smile afterwards. That smile, Christ. He’d never seen its like on a woman before.
Some days, he thinks he knows better what that look was now.
(Love.)
But most of the time, he feels as lost about it as ever.
(Was it love? Or was it remorse?)
He feels bloody lost now, standing in front of her grave. More lost than he’s felt since he held her for the last time in Venice, fisting his hands in that sopping-wet red dress.
He’s never talked to a grave before. When he left Skyfall — both times — he never looked back. All the dead agents he knows are names on a memorial wall, where it’s impossible to get a private moment with the dead. There are too many names and too many people in the living world grieving them. The only person he’s ever felt the urge to visit is M, and she would have risen from the dead to scoff at him had he tried talking to her.
Vesper, he has slightly more hope for, though he hasn’t a clue what to say. It’s been a long time.
It’s been no time at all.
I loved you, he thinks. I’d have forgiven you everything because of that. Even if you never said it back. Maybe I still love you.
Mathis once told him it was easy to love the dead because they could never do anything to prove you wrong.
Then tell me how to stop, James had thought. Tell me how to stop, and I will.
He never had found a way to stop. Sometimes the love feels as fresh and sharp as the day they ran away together. If she’s anywhere now — and he’s not sure she is — she must know that. God knows he said it enough.
His eyes sting with the effort of not saying it again, and he blinks away the blur in them until he can, once again, see her face smiling back at him.
That smile is still without its equal.
VESPER LYND
1983-2006.
“I miss you.”
25 notes
·
View notes
you don't know how much comfort your dragon king bkg drabble has given me ever since you posted it!! i keep reading it i love it sm 🥹
as it turns out, the man bakugou is — a bit harder to handle.
he sleeps like a heathen; you once thought the dragon bakugou to be a bit lazy, with how often he tended to curl up in the fields of grass, warm under the sun, but now — it would seem his little human form needs significantly less rest.
almost up all hours of the day, and when he does finally lay down, he's everywhere. a mess of limbs: one thrown carelessly out to the side and the other bent at an angle you can't believe doesn't hurt his joints. his head stays tucked into you somehow, either buried in your neck or pressed against your ribs — or you'll wake to find him nose-to-nose with you. he still snores like a dragon, however.
you're also beginning to wonder if there is a bottom to the pit of his stomach. he ate much before, whole fields of things, but you expected that appetite to dwindle, at least a little, now that his stomach has decreased considerably in size. and in number ? you're not even sure how many stomachs a dragon has; that's not something that was mentioned in the fairytales.
it burns through him quickly, gives him more energy than he needs, and it doesn't ever seem to affect his weight much. already, he's huge and thick with muscle and eating as much as he does never dulls the severity of his cut abdomen. not that you're looking all that much.
— not that you have a choice not to, as he seems to have little-to-no understanding of —
the door to the bathhouse kicks open, with enough force that you already know who it is without ever turning to look. you try not to shriek when you see him, because he seems to like that in some evil, impish way.
you've been alone to wash so far, thankfully, as the inn you'd managed to find was small and far enough out from the nearest kingdom that the occupancy was low — enough for you and your little brute.
the man bakugou comes to stand in front of the bath, blinking and huffing against the steam. finding clothes for him was — nearly impossible, and so the trousers you'd found hanging on someone's line outside fit above his ankles, a bit too tight around his waist. instead of a shirt, you've wrapped him in a scratchy linen, swaddled him up like a baby to cover the small smattering of scales that decorate his body, almost like freckles from the sun, though they gleam just as bright and red as they ever have. no matter his form.
a horn has started to sprout, on the right side of his forehead, and you've done your best to cover that, too.
you have no idea how long this man thing will last. if it's permanent or if he even has control over it. the last thing you need is for him to switch back, somehow, while you're in the middle of feeding him, absolutely demolishing whatever tavern you're in and calling all of king todoroki's guards to attention.
bakugou grunts, almost sleepy, and tosses a fat, weighty sack onto the edge of the bath. it jingles a certain jingle that makes your heart stop.
"oh, allfather—" you move for the edge, awkwardly keeping one arm against your chest despite the fact that he's seen it all by now. when you peek inside and confirm your fears, you lob it back to him furiously, as if it were a steaming potato. "where do you keep getting this stuff?"
things have started to turn up, miraculously. shiny things — like coins and rings and gems. things he could not have simply found rolling around in the dirt.
"go put it back!" you hiss at him, and the tone of your voice makes his frown deepen. you never realized how pouty he was, when he was still a dragon.
you think he understands you, and you're pretty certain he just chooses not to listen; instead of doing what you've told him in the slightest, he simply dumps the coin-purse to the floor, and then lets his linen and stolen trousers cover it as he unceremoniously undresses.
the biggest issue that you would say the man bakugou poses is — his complete lack of understanding of personal space.
"bakugou!" your voice wavers, shocked again by his nakedness. as if you haven't seen it all by now. "no, you — get out!"
but he does the exact opposite, which is hop into the steaming water, ignoring the arm you hold out to keep him away as he saddles up beside you. skin against scales, pressing a nose into your hair to huff out his annoyance, to make it something you can feel.
if anyone were to walk in right now, they would — probably think the lie you'd told the innkeeper was true. that you are a simple traveler and this is your mute, over-sized husband.
regardless, you think this behavior isn't polite. especially in a public bathhouse.
"bakugou," you try again, turning your face away as you speak to the wood-paneled wall. "i'm taking a bath, you have to wait your turn."
all you receive in response is another huff against your ear and a low rumble of disagreement from his chest.
he has yet to speak back, and has only used inhuman sounds as his points of conversation. the only word you've ever heard him utter is oi, which he does when he really thinks he needs your attention. you're starting to wonder if he's named you that in his head. oi.
curiously, you turn back to him and the movement has him pulling his face from your hair, just enough that he can look down at you, too. watch you, with the red-rippled sea in his eyes.
they're — amazing, you will admit. just as bright and detailed as they always have been. fit for a fairytale told by the fire, veiled by the soft-ash of his lashes. he watches you through them, half-lidded, and you wonder if it's something other than fatigue that has them so heavy.
"do you know what i'm saying?" you ask quietly, voice lacking the firm heat you want it to. instead it's heavy, too, weighted by something soft and unfamiliar and frightening. "can you even understand me?"
bakugou doesn't respond, not with a huff or a rumble or ever a purr, like the one he let out on the night he lay over you by the lake. you've only heard it sparingly since then, oftentimes in his sleep when his face is pressed into you.
you try not to frown at his silence, try not to let it disappoint you because it shouldn't; he's a dragon afterall, and you're not sure what it matters. the little horn protruding from his forehead catches your eye and you reach up to touch it gently, watching him blink away the water that drips from your wrist — and then he's turning into you again, too close.
beneath the water, you feel his hands skate up your bare thighs, wrap around your waist until your chest is pulled flush against his. you feel his huff, again, against the damp skin of your neck but it's slower, lighter. not laced with his frustration. some unknown thing you feel guilty for liking.
you drop your hand to his hair, rushing full force into all the damned things you've thought about doing but have been too afraid to. he's soft between your fingers, and you trace your nails lightly against his scalp until he groans quietly; a new noise, one you don't know how to translate.
your fingers stop when they brush upon little spines that have grown at the base of his skull, that have started to trail down the center of his back.
suddenly, tangled up in the bath with him, you wonder how much time you have left.
bakugou huffs again into your skin, a little fiercer this time, and it's because of his light jostling that you realize how rigid you've gone. you try to relax so that he will, too, though you must not do a convincing job, because a sharp nip comes to your earlobe.
"ow!" you squeal, but he doesn't let you go far, not even as you try to jerk away from him. in fact, the harder you try the more his teeth show: into your cheek and the point of your jaw and then dangerously low on your neck.
it's not until you finally freeze that he stops, huffing again, with a warmth that burns more than the steaming water.
and then, very quietly, he grumbles, "shitty wife," into your collarbone, just before biting you again.
1K notes
·
View notes
Gimme Pre-Relationship 4, 5, and 6 for Aggie please <3
AAAAAAAHHH MAR MY PRECIOUS TOT
Thank you very much for the ask! Your rules captain! ^^ 🧡💜🧡💜
Ship list here!
💟 Pre-Relationship !!!
4/ Who felt romantic feelings first?
Agatha!
In the event of book 2, she hated Ruggie due to his behavior and attitudes following Leona's orders but after a while, she began to realize how Ruggie was in fact, his skills, humor, responsibilities, intimidation and even his cute side. In love with the hyena boy? 100% yes!💗💗💗
5/ Did either of them try to resist their feelings?
YES Ruggie!
We know that Ruggie is canonically shown to be insecure and sensitive about his origins!
Several times and we also know how busy he's, with extra work, campus activities, studies, and Leona's chores. So he would be hesitant to accept his own feelings for all those reasons and also time! A relationship is a serious thing that takes a lot of responsibility and he knows that soon he can hesitate until his mood upsets some others or Leona so he gets momentum and realizes for himself that this is what wants and he's just worried. But he accepts quickly!!!💗
6/ If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?
I imagine they would be in shock for a while? It's just a little scary to think that your soulmate belongs to another world ( :'D ). Discovering this suddenly even before or in love with this person, it would be fun to see the two nervous, fidgety, and fumbling around each other.
But I think that Ruggie already accepting his own feelings for her, he would immediately think of sharing spaghetti and meatballs, a belief as he said right? With a beautiful meaning T^T/💗
479 notes
·
View notes
Hi, soooo I'm currently studying phisiotherapy AND at the same time I'm sucker for good cuddling and soft scenes AND I have hate love relationship with scars (visually I think they can be attractive but in a lot of other aspects they just suck). Anyway so u know how scar tissue is a bit** to work with and can cause a lot of problems like numbness in scared area, decrease in range of movement, phantom pains etc. What I'm trying to say is Neil needs A LOT of therapy sessions which should contain some salves manual work with scars and maybe needle therapy which is just prettier way to say sticking hundreds of tiny needles right thru scared tissue which most definitely will hurt BUT what if during all of this they only will learn more about themselves and will have excuse to spend long hours together away from prying eyes and most importantly being soft, clingy, touch starved wholesome dumbasses with one shared braincell?
Sorry for long, boring and probably unnecessary not so much question or message as just my thought vomit I just wanted to share.
Have a great day🫡😅🧡
WHAT DO YOU MEAN BORING AND UNNECESSARY I LOVE IT
omg thank you for bringing your expertise into this, I absolutely wrote the “long hours being touch starved wholesome dumbasses” bit into my notebook lmao. Yeah! This is good!! I’m SUCH a sucker for soft moments like this I’m right there with you. I was bouncing ideas with @paradoxolotl on it and I love the idea of Day being very methodical, he might know some of this stuff already and then he goes out of his way to learn everything he needs to know to make sure Abram can still be taken care of when he won’t let anyone else touch him. Still talking him through everything. Andrew would be as careful as we all know he can be, he never takes for granted the trust Abram has when he allows Andrew to give him more painful massages/therapy, and after, Andrew’s touch softens and neither of them ever mention that he’d already finished the actual exercise/massage a few long minutes ago… idk anything about physiotherapy so I bet there’s lots of great art/story fodder here that I’m just unaware of so if you have any specific ideas I’d love to hear them 👀👀 but here’s what I did draw, hopefully it’s not too completely incorrect 😅
(Shout out to @anon-lemon for making me realize I needed to draw Andrew with his hair down 💕)
Anyway thank you for the ask, together we can make this both incredibly angsty AND incredibly fluffy 😌🥰
173 notes
·
View notes