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jjkpls · 3 years

Text

the wishlist (m) - 2

“Since when do we buy each other sextoys?”

> genre : light angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 5k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; sextoys talk; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity; chaotic oc; clueless koo

previous - next

It all starts with the first box and the vague memory of a warm touch on your face.

When you wake up that morning, groggy from exhaustion and the sensation of having spent the night waking up, again and again, you sense something. You struggle to point out if you’ve dreamt or if it really happened, but there’s the lingering of a warm hand's trace, cupping your cheek, soothing the stress lines on your forehead, and softly brushing your hair back from your face. You can’t tell if it’s happened but it left a lovely sensation both on your skin and heart.

You get up and out of bed, slowly stroll to your living room with a lazy hand raising to your head, meaning to scratch at the snake nest you expect to be sitting on it. Instead, your fingers are met with a rather neat braid you definitely didn’t go to sleep with as you were too fucking done with this day to even try and deal with your tight bun -the very bun that elongated your time to fall asleep by at least a good half an hour. The same fingers that caressed your face took care of your hair and you know exactly to whom they belong.

Of course, giddiness ensues and the mildly serious feeling of mortification -you despise the idea of not knowing in what state he found you, in what state of ugly, of dishevelled, of smelly. There’s no room for embarrassment in this friendship, not this kind anyway, fortunately or not, he’s seen you at your worst (at a time when you didn’t care much if he did or not) so it counters, always a bit, the shame.

He hasn't left your side yet, has he? And he’s exposing himself to this face of yours, so why should you feel bad about it? He sneaks into your apartment at night just to brush your face and bring the covers up to your chin, tuck you nicely in as if he’s your mom or something, so why should you care. He doesn’t seem to mind. He never seems to mind. He’s the best of friends. The best of all the people you know and the best of your friends.

And of course, naturally fitting this role, you’d find the morning of Christmas, a mysterious box you’ve never seen before sitting on your coffee table.

The girls, your friends, have presents for you, you know they do, but yesterday you were working and couldn’t see them, therefore, the little celebration was reported and you didn’t expect, you wouldn’t expect them to come at night or early in the morning to bring you your gifts. It can wait (so they decided).

But Jungkook is sweet like no one else is.

And he came to wish you a merry Christmas even if you were too tired to wish him back and he left a present for you.

There’s not a name attached to it but it’s obvious it comes from him. There’s just a post-it he stole from your desk, with a Merry Christmas written on it, the lines of the letters, round and neat, you’d recognize from any other lettering and a bunny with teeth as big as the eyes smiling at you, drawn next to it.

The box is so pretty, you feel an actual pressure thinking about opening it, as if there is a certain way, a proper way, to go about it.

And apparently, there is. You go wash your face and rinse your mouth, prepare yourself one of your good teas, tear the curtain wide open and slowly, almost ceremoniously, take a seat on the ground, right in front of it.

The box is neat. You don’t know what’s inside, probably a perfume or some kit for the bath you’d assume, but you already know that whatever is inside, even if it’s not of your liking -which is impossible, it comes from Jungkook-, will be balanced out by the appearance of this perfectly elegant, tasteful box that you’ll use again to stock anything, maybe your face masks, maybe nothing -it’ll just sit, looking good on a shelf.

It’s a pastel blue, with a black rose drawn on top of it, the icon to a brand you absolutely don’t recognize. With fingers trembling with excitement you drag the box to yourself, it’s mildly heavy, for some reasons, it gives you a little rush of anxiety. There’s just a tiny black ribbon holding the box firmly closed. A tiny pull on it and it slips open.

Slowly you lift the lid, a grin already plastered on your face, hurting your cheeks. You expect a blinding magical light to come out of it, with the sound of bells ringing near your ears and sense to suddenly knock into you as you’d understand what wondrous present is in front of you.

But none of it comes. There's just a thing hidden inside a black satin bag.

It’s not a perfume nor a bath kit and you’re confused.

A bit scared.

Honestly, maybe a little shameful part of you has guessed it. But the louder yet weaker rest of you can’t see it. It would be too... ludicrous. And wouldn’t make sense, would it? You’ve never actually seen any in real life so how would you know what the packaging would look like and how would you come to this conclusion now? And how, why, how would he, Jeon Jungkook, come about to offer you this?

Doesn’t make any sense.

But somehow, when you pick up the courage to open the little bag and drag the object out of it, you hardly even gasp in surprise when you discover a dildo. You just let it drop to the table, thumping loudly the fake wood.

Why did you guess it to be that and why did he get you this shit?

Scorching red seize your face and your whole being.

You are infuriated.

How dares he? You are mortified. How dares he?

What does this fucking mean?

A joke?

Is it a joke?

If it a joke then what’s the fucking point? It’s not fucking funny. It’s weird as hell and you can’t believe he came in the middle of the night, pretending to be Santa to leave you a fucking kidding present as if your miserable life needed that.

And if it’s not then what the actual fuck? Does he think you’re that desperate? Does he have really no notion of boundaries?

Conveniently your phone lays centimetres away from the offending thing, you don’t even need to get up to grab it and therefore, you start looking furiously for his name in your recent call list. After only two rings as if he was just expecting your call, his bright hello reaches your ear.

“What the actual fuck, Jeon?” He must hear the madness in your voice, both the anger and the hysteria. There’s a pause during which he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a sound and you even check your screen to make sure he hasn’t hung up on you.

“That’s- not- the reaction I expected.” He sounds sheepish. Mumbled words, lisped syllables, long pauses.

“What did you expect?” You yell a bit, you can just picture him, dragging the phone out of earshot and winding, the same way you do when your mom who doesn’t get the concept of telephone screams in it each time she calls you. The realization hits you, that in your quiet little apartment, in this (for once) quiet morning, you are screeching like a banshee. You quiet down instantly, some of the anger soothed down by embarrassment. “Are you insane?” You whisper in his ear and comically, he starts whispering too, with the same alterations to his usually bright and open tone.

“M’not. I just- you said that’s what you wanted so I got it for you.”

Now he’s making stuff up and blaming this insanity on you and that serves to raise a bit more the bar of anger -along with the loudness of your voice, “When have I ever said that I wanted a-“ You choke on your own saliva once your brain realizes that you’re supposed to say the word, out loud, to him. In an angry whisper, as if someone, your mother, for example, could be listening “fucking dildo!” You blush furiously at that and it’s ridiculous. Probably the reason why you didn’t own one in the first place and maybe shouldn’t yet. Because you’re a grown-ass woman of a quarter of a century, living alone and admittedly independent and responsible for your own existence, but you can’t even say the word “dildo” out loud to this asshole of a friend who apparently, and that’s new news, doesn’t have an issue talking about sex and everything related to it with you.

“Y-you said-“ There’s a pregnant pause. You can’t know for sure since you’re not seeing him if he’s faking it or not but he sounds confused as hell. Like he genuinely doesn’t understand what’s wrong. Moron. “You said you wanted sex but not a boyfriend so I thought- it’s pretty much- it’s exactly what it is. Why are you so mad?”

The question in itself serves to drag you a little further over the edge. So much so, it clogs your brain with anguish and leaves you unable to give him an answer.

When he’s starting to talk again, maybe ask again his question, you just hung up, slamming your phone down on the carpet.

You hear it vibrate to life twice before it shuts down completely. Good. At least he knows you well enough, still, to assume rightfully so that you won’t pick up his calls anymore. Not today.

You just have the time to pack the dildo back in its bag and inside its box, throw away your tea that tastes unbearably bitter and maniacally scrub your face in an attempt to get rid of the red patches that don’t want to fucking leave before the telling high beeps of your front door’s digital lock alert you. Your face is soaking in cold water, another attempt to cool it, your face and your troubled mind.

You mean to ignore him. Dipping your head further in the filled up sink, closing your eyes tight shut hoping somehow it’ll help you push aside the calls of your name better.

For a few seconds, it works. You can’t hear him anymore. You wonder if the furious pleas you were chanting in your head could have been loud enough to make the sound of the door slamming behind him as he would have left, completely quiet.

He’s such a try-hard. You hung up on him because he’s saying batshit crazy things and his first reflex is to barge in your house again. You really need to change your lock and not tell him. You can do that. You’re an adult and you have the right to your own fucking place. It’s not a fucking benevolent stay in, for fuck's sake.

The cold water really seems to work. You feel better, light-headed, coming down after the earlier hysteria. And knowing that he’s left and won’t pursue this mess any further, for now, surely helps a lot.

Except it doesn’t last for, as soon as your face leaves the water, your hands reaching clumsily for a towel that falls magically in them, one wipe at your eyes and your worst nightmare is standing right in front of you.

“Fucking- Jungkook!” Burying your face back in the towel, drying your face as much as possible, maybe even trying for a second to suffocate yourself, you wish vainly that when you’ll take it off he would have disappeared.

He is still here though. Watching with dark eyes and a straight severe line replacing the cute button he owns for a mouth, he looks awfully serious for a guy that’s never really serious. Your towel ends up centimetres away from his face, he catches it right before it touches him. You hoped it would blind and confuse him momentarily, long enough for you to escape but of course, this guy would never miss a shot, even a surprise one.

“Why are you like this?” He asks when you try and push him from the ribs, out of the door frame. You hate that you think about it. About his chest being so hard and warm and his fucking smell of sweat that you’d recognize amongst any others (pretty easily as any other makes you gag and this one, probably because you’re a primary animal guided by hormones, leaves you dizzy and wanting). He doesn’t budge until he decides to, mercilessly stepping aside to let you through. Because you’re an idiot, you don’t think and head for the living room and it’s only once you’re there, very aware of his steps following you, that the devilish object of your discord is right fucking there, obnoxiously sitting on the middle of your coffee table. You groan and squeeze your eyes tight.

What meditation technique, an extra effective one, could you use right now before you definitely lose it and throw yourself out the window?

Before you find one, you end up clinging to the opposite wall, forehead pressed to it, back to him, in a vain attempt to suppress yourself from the situation. You might look a little insane or at best, somehow on edge, but who cares at this point?

“Jungkook, if I don’t pick up your call, do you think I want to see your face?”

“But why though?” His tone is still harsher than usual. You notice it and you notice you don’t hate it either. What a little bitch you are. If you like his usual self, with the bright smile, soft words, boisterous laugh, dainty manners, you can’t deny that this rougher version of him, genuinely pissed off as you’ve never seen him, tickles your fancy. You’re fucked. “Seriously these days you- you’re such-“

“I’m what?” You bark, swirling on your feet, expression distorted by an offence he hasn’t even made yet. You completed the sentence he’s never finished with terrible words that you’ve never heard him use talking about anyone: bitch, hysterical, cunt.

“You’re trying to pick a fight with me all the fucking time, I don’t get it!”

Now you feel terrible. You’re still bothered by the raw edges of his tone, it’s literally sending electric shocks to your lower tummy. But his eyebrows have dropped and his fiery dark eyes have turned shiny and sad, your heart hurts in your bosom.

Ugh.

You’re such a bitch.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m insufferable. I’m on my period. Sorry.” You send a mental apology to womanhood. You're just an idiot lacking imagination.

Jungkook frowns, his eyebrows dancing in all kind of ways, before they settle for an, unfortunately for you, attractive finale, one straight down, one tilt up. He stares at you, dubious.

“For three weeks. You’ve been on your period for three weeks.”

The first thing you take notes of is the fact that he dated it way shorter than you would have. Honestly, you found yourself becoming a weirdo with inappropriate feelings that reindeer you into an asshole for at least a month and a half. Before that, it was extremely tamed, totally under control. You’d just notice his handsome face and cute smiles and nice smell, thinking “oh yeah that’s right. He’s kinda attractive. How funny I never really noticed.” And slowly it progressed to not being able to handle him touching you without having something close to a panic attack.

The second thing you note is that he doesn’t believe you. His stare is insistent, turns a bit dark as he lingers, studying your own eyes with judgment in his. He’s frowning even more, looks down at the floor and sighs so deep, heartbreakingly so. He looks hurt that you’re lying and don’t want to share what's really been up with you. If only you could be a better liar.

“It happens sometimes, all women are diff-“

He just sat down on your sofa, eyes fixed on the blue box. Before you can finish your sentence, he sends you a glare that awfully looks like a threat. You shut up. He doesn’t believe you anyway. He knows you and your periods (sort of) way too well. He knows you’re in pain the first day, you’re a bit tender on the following ones and he takes it upon himself to be gentler and not try to play WWE with you on those but you don’t turn into a mean dragon. This much he knows for sure.

There’s something he’s seeking for within the box. He’s grabbed it, holds it now in between his fingertips, piercing virtual holes into it. It’s probably the answer he didn’t find in your eyes.

It makes you flush furiously. Seeing his pretty hands with his long fingers touching it. Here’s the reason, he would have caught it on your cheeks if he wasn’t so busy looking for it elsewhere.

“I really thought that- you’d like it.” He sounds so saddened. You’re caught off guard. Again. So this present wasn’t meant to be a joke. It is a genuine one. It makes sense that he’s hurt then. You’re shitting all over his gift but how could you not? How could he believe that you could just accept that for a random gift? Slowly he makes the top of the box slide up, pout sucked in in concentration, dimple out. Your heart seems to stop at that. He’s not going to take it out, is he?

He can’t take it in his hands.

You’ll die if he takes it in his hands.

Fortunately, he just opens the box, looks at the satin bag, looks at it with a pained expression as if he feels bad for the thing, then closes it back.

“The woman at the shop said that it’s one of the best ones, for starters.” He sulks like a child. Bottom lip all plumped out, shiny eyes under curved eyebrows.

Jungkook looks up at you, ultimate sad puppy look on.

“She said the size and the texture were perfect if you’ve never used one before. It wouldn’t be too... what was that again?” He asks aloud as if you’d know. And you’re mortified. On behalf of him. The concept that he’s not embarrassed right now and that he went to an actual shop, browsed through the shelves and asked an actual saleswoman for help is absolutely insane. Unbelievable if it were not for the sincerity he’s dipped in. “And I picked blue because I know you like this colour. It matches your planner, doesn’t it?” He adds as if he’s not sure when obviously he knows.

It is surprisingly very close in shade. And so what? He expected you to love it so much, take fucking aesthetic pictures with it and your planner sitting on your fake marble desktop, next to Diego the succulent? What an idiot. And for how fucking long did he talk to that woman?

Silence hangs heavy between you. You watch as he scowls some more, mumbles under his breath while staring with despair at the box.

Slowly, resolute to be the better friend you have not successfully been these past weeks (months), you leave your protecting wall. Taking a seat on the carpet, on the opposite side of the table, you do your best to ignore the blue patch invading the bottom of your vision and try to give him the softest expression you can come up with at this moment.

“Why are you so butthurt?”

His curiously perfect round eyes raise in a swift motion, pouty lips agape in a silent little gasp.

“Sorry.” You apologize before he even gets to respond because, maybe, you could try harder to be good and nice to him.

“Because it’s a present.” He starts at a very slow pace. He pauses between words like he’s addressing a dim, dim brain. And he might be honestly. But he’s one to talk. How can he not see an issue? “That I’ve looked for and bought for you. That’s why I’m butthurt, what do you mean?”

“But- since when are we buying each other-“ You need to grow up. There’s no one else but him hearing you and since your last conversation about it, when he too was embarrassed, he’s able to say it just fine apparently. Still, you whisper the following, “sex toys?”

“Since you turned twenty-five and said you were interested in it.” His right-hand raises from the box to start flapping the air and you know it means bad news. He’s upset. When he needs his hands to further accompany his speech, it means he’s a bit too taken by the conversation. And in this case, you don’t feel like it’s a good idea for him to be. “When you were fourteen and into Legos, I bought you a set of Legos.”

Hardly makes sense.

“You’re just going to pretend it’s a random present?”

“It’s not random. I put thought into it.” His eyes are digging up intensively in your own. It might be desperation that leads you to remain still, allow him to look. Hopefully, he won’t dig deep enough to find stuff he shouldn’t. “Why do you hate it? I thought- I don’t know- you’re a- flourished single woman and-“

Flourished? Really? The words don’t come out of your mouth but he reads them on your face and an adorable smile cracks open the mask of gravity.

“Jungkook.” You owe him an effort. Maybe you should look into why it requires an act of inhuman courage for you to admit your shame. It might be because if he were anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by the present for five seconds because clearly, you’re still half of a fucking child but soon enough, you’d probably be enchanted by the thing. Who doesn’t need a good sex toy? You definitely do. You thought about getting one for a long while but never got to it for some reasons and here’s one offered to you (in a very pretty shade of baby blue).

The thing is you don’t think about anyone sexually except for him (and his friend Jimin, once in a while, just by curiosity because the guy is a very sexual being). If you don’t even consider them in this light, you don’t have to think about them using it, do you? But he’s all you think about, unfortunately. And you’re friends. And it feels like one step closer to your fantasy while simultaneously one step closer to betrayal. And he certainly is not offering you this wishing for you to keep close in mind the fact that this is his. His present. He knows about it. Maybe can think of you using it and liking it without any further implications. Because obviously, it’s not like that for him. “It's awkward. How can you not see that.”

“Is it? What is?”

“First of all, we don’t- we- don’t even talk about... it. And suddenly you’re buying me- this?”

“Yeah, I realized that too!” It’s too much enthusiasm. Eyes too big and hands not leaving the air. You can already guess his next sentence. It’s probably going to be a terrible suggestion. “I talk about sex all the time with the guys,” Your eyebrows jump to your hairline at that. You’re not even that surprised but the formulation could probably be fixed. “and you talk about it with your girls, right? But we’ve known each other the longest and we never talk about it. Isn’t it fucked up?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘fucked up’-”

“Well, I would. I am.”

“Don’t you- don’t you see that you’re a boy and coincidentally you can easily talk about it with the guys who happen to be boys and I am a girl, right? And I-“ Who would have thought? It took you fifteen years to finally be giving him the beginning of the talk about the birds and the bees. You would have given it to him sooner if you’d have known how far behind he’s been.

“But what if I need girl advice-“

“I’m sure Jimin knows a whole lot about girls, Jeon.”

“From a girl point of view. Real girl advice.”

“Jungkook-“

“If I ask what the G spot exactly feels like, what-“

“Jungkook!”

He’s amused, the fucker. He’s not as clueless as he sounds. But the crooked grin on his face is too telling. He might just be messing with you. Usually, when he’s just playing he wouldn’t insist so much, he wouldn’t take the conversation this far so surely, there are some genuine intentions. However, he's still having way too much fun.

With his frowned nose, and squinting shiny orbs and stupid bunny teeth.

“You’re just embarrassed, aren’t you?” You might have terribly loud red streaks painting your cheeks that you try naively to cover with your hands. He can see it all and silently, he nods his head, looking like he’s reached the final touch of his experiment. “How? What happened to the teenage girl who spent her nights writing dirty stories about Harry Styles?”

Horror.

How the fuck-

“How the fuck do you know about that?”

“You showed me!” He defends, hands high above in the air like a soccer player claiming innocence. “You did! You don’t remember?” No, you don’t. But you can tell he’s not lying. Apparently, young you was quite the fearless bitch.

What happened indeed?

Years happened. A growing sense of self-preservation along with them. Undesired feelings for an idiot with a bunny smile. An inappropriate sense of shame along with those.

“Anyway. So it’s a bribe for girl advice?” You ask, chin pointing to the box. Jungkook looks down on it, drums his fingertips lightly on the top before he looks up, beaming.

“Sort of.” Shrugging, he adds with a shifty eye that telltales a certain vulnerable sincerity. “I just wish for us to be able to share everything. Be comfortable like before.”

“Before what?” He stares for a long time, mouth shut. He then blinks the moment away and for the first time, you might believe ever, Jungkook looks like he might have a secret too.

“Just before. Back in the days, I mean.” He simply explains. His attention is back on the stupid box. He’s staring at the rose on top of it. Fingers playing with the corner of it.

“Back in your old days.”

“You’re older than me. So you really don’t want it?” Here he comes again with the sad puppy face. Why would it be breaking his dumb little heart to refuse a dildo from him? What kind of insane parallel universe is this? “Is it like a 'men are fine but little Jeon Jungkookie still has cooties so I can’t accept his present, it’s gross'?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh.” Defeated, he sighs. Another one of those soul-harming sighs. “Fine. I’ll get it refunded and you’ll buy yourself something else with the money then.”

Is he really going to make you do that?

As if the question is even to be raised. He can make you do anything.

“No, Guk, sorry. It’s fine. Sorry.” You start, hands clasping over the box you drag your side of the table. The only way you can do it is if you don’t actively think about what’s inside. “I’ll keep it. Sorry.”

“So you kind of want it?” He is grinning from one ear to the other. You can feel him giddy and excited, kind of jumpy on his seat and really, you don’t see any difference with the excitement he portrays each time he gets you any kind of presents and you tell him that you like it.

“I won’t use it.” It’s almost a threat. Eyes squinted in severe slits, index finger millimetres away from poking his eye. “It’s a gift so I won’t make you get a refund, that’s rude but- I won’t use it.” After a second of seemingly deep reflection, he breaks out in his loud, annoying boyish laughter. Eyes watery at the corners and hands clapping like a stupid seal. “I’m serious!”

“Sure.” He’s still cackling, the idiot. “But you should. The lady said it’s a best seller too.”

“Great. I don’t care.”

He has his eyebrows high, a twitch in his wide grin, and the amused black orbs. He doesn’t believe you one bit. “Course, you don’t.”

The idea that he sincerely expects you to use it might drive your delusional brain for a loop. He just wants to be the best gift-giver, the best Santa, and wants you to make good use of whatever he's got you. But how can he not consider that you could not use something like that, to pleasure yourself, when it’s directly related to him, your best friend? It’s weird as hell. It can’t be just weird to you.

Unfortunately, there’s no one you can come up with the question to have them agree with you. You already know what the girls will say. They’re even worse than you when it comes to Jeon Jungkook and your ambiguous (on your side solely) friendship. They’ll say the ship is sailed and start buying themselves bridesmaid matching dresses.

They don’t understand. It’s not like they’ve grown up with someone like him. Someone rather simple, authentic and kind, so much so, so much more than most people, that it turns him complicated because so different from other humans you can meet. There’s nothing to be read in between the lines with him. It’s always lovingly honest, blatant, generous.

He doesn’t mean anything else behind the gift besides a “have a good one!”.

And you didn’t mean anything else but the truth when you said you wouldn’t use it.

At the moment, anyway, you meant it.

A/N: hoping it makes sense and is not too raw, edited it at midnight TT; may i manifest a sugar daddy that would pay me to stay home and write fanfiction for you guys all day :). i really hope you like it, and hope also that you can handle the secondhand embarrassement because even i struggled. let me know what you think of the series so far, sending everyone reading this an infinite amount of virtual kisses and hugs, take care of yourself, love yourself and others a lot, BYEE.

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rheawritessometimes · 3 years

Text

In Bloom

{ Xiao x GN!Gardener!Reader }

{ Summary } Looking for flowers is more dangerous than it seems.

{ Warnings } Violence, Injury, Mention of Death, Not Even Proofread.

{ Notes } Reader runs on dumb luck and also is kind of like an ecologist or something. Reader is a bit of an airhead. This is probably the most serious fic I've written, with no jokes or additions stricken out. But yeah I just typed this out and didn't even read it over, so if it's bad... Just know this is just a little something while I work on longer garbage. Masterlist

{ Word Count } 2,112

Appealing to the Vigilant Yaksha was an easy, one could even say effortless, thing for you. You hadn't taken the almond tofu route as others before you had, instead, you left him some Qingxin flowers. These flowers did not come from the peaks of Huaguong Stone Forest nor the Mingyun Village, rather they were among the finest specimens you had grown in your garden. The translucent white petals were soft like velvet and entirely free from blemish.

Your small gift to the adeptus wasn't exactly intentional. In truth, you had left the flowers on the balcony of Wangshu Inn entirely by accident and when you returned to retrieve them they were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a pale man with dark hair leaning over the balcony. When you halted your approach, he turned his head towards you, indicating he had heard your footsteps.

Striking golden eyes seemed to gaze straight through you, sending a chill down your spine. His expression was entirely neutral, you couldn't get even a hint as to what he was thinking. Nothing about his outward appearance screamed danger, but the ominous aura you sensed made you take a step back.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to disturb you," you squeaked out, sounding a lot less confident than you had intended. You take a step backward, but couldn't bring yourself to tear your eyes from him.

"Don't apologize. You're welcome to stay," he replied after a few beats of silence, his tone sounding strained for a reason you couldn't discern.

"Um, okay, thank you," you replied politely, feeling it would be too awkward to leave now. It felt to you as though you were now trapped here for a little while out of social obligation. You stepped out towards the railing, deciding to at least enjoy the view if you had to stay.

The man didn't look at you, but you couldn't help but take in his appearance. He was objectively good-looking with bright amber eyes, dark hair with teal highlights, and his stoic expression. His clothing wasn't outlandish, but it's not the type you would commonly see on the streets of Liyue.

It took a while for the dark mask resting against the man's hip to catch your attention, but once it did you felt like a fool. It was not common knowledge, however, the fact an adeptus resided at the Wangshu Inn was not exactly a secret. One which you were privy to. The mask was the most obvious indication of his status as an adeptus. Not just any adeptus, not that any of them were anything to look down upon, but one of the Yakshas. The last of the five Yakshas.

"Alatus," the name escapes your lips as a whisper before you can think to stop it. Immediately your eyes widen, but before you could issue an apology the man just sighs softly. It doesn't sound particularly angered, but rather weary.

"Xiao. My name is Xiao," he says without turning to look at you. That's all he says before vanishing in a cloud of black mist and falling feathers of anemo energy. The mist and feathers are both quick to dissipate, leaving you standing with your mouth hanging open.

After that encounter, it had become a regular occurrence, at least once weekly, for you to pick one of the finest flowers from your garden and bring it to Wangshu Inn to leave on the balcony, or give directly to Xiao should he show himself. Most often you brought him a Qingxin, but occasionally you would substitute other flowers as not to end up plucking every Qingxin you had grown. You never picked the very best flower, either. Even for an adeptus you couldn't bring yourself to pick the best examples, rather letting them grow in peace for your prolonged enjoyment.

It wasn't until the third time you had come to the inn with a flower for Xiao that he was waiting for you on the balcony. Seeing the yaksha there made you pause, heart skipping a beat in surprise. He turned from his place looking out across the landscape to see you, certainly not as surprised to see you as you were him.

The way he looked expectantly at the flower in your hand has you realizing you had been standing there frozen. You moved, extending the flower out to him in offering. He took it delicately from your hand, looking it over for a moment.

"Thank you," he said softly, so quiet you almost didn't hear it at all. You could only nod stiffly in response. He scoffed at you before turning around again to lean against the balcony railing.

Just as it had the first time you met the yaksha, it felt wrong to just leave. So, you decided to survey the landscape of Liyue with him in silence. After the first few minutes, the atmosphere became rather comfortable between the two of you. Still, by the time he disappeared in a cloud of black mist and anemo feathers, neither of you had spoken a word.

This morning you were out early in the morning to explore the wilds of Liyue. You were no adventurer, though. Your purpose was to analyze the populations of certain flora and fauna. These were trips you made often to various parts of Liyue, wishing to preserve the life of endangered species, and always alone. Bringing people along to the locations of such rare organisms, be it plant or animal, was a dangerous thing. In many instances, rare means valuable and there are those who would do anything for some Mora.

Today you found yourself in Dihua Marsh to check up on the Glaze Lily population. Based on your counts, the number hadn't fluctuated greatly since your last visit, there were even a few new blooms. This brought you great relief, Glaze Lilies seemed to be somewhat of a symbol of Liyue and it would sadden you to see their wild population disappear, even if they remained in Qingce Village and at the Yujing Terrace. It wouldn't be the same.

Once you had sung a few songs to the flowers, not worried about anyone hearing you in this rather secluded area, you made your way back to one of the main roads. The long walks back to the harbor always ended up with you lost deep in thought, which wasn't always a good thing. Lost deep in your own mind, you didn't notice the slow advance of a small group of Treasure Hoarders until it was too late.

There was no time to run away as they surrounded you, it was unlikely you could have outrun them anyways. Fortunately, it didn't take very long for the Treasure Hoarders to discover you had absolutely nothing of value on you, and while they may be thieves it wasn't often a Treasure Hoarder was a murderer. Of course, they had roughed you up a bit before ultimately leaving you alone. There was a nasty scrape on your cheek and you were sure you would be bruised in the morning, but you weren't seriously injured.

By the next day, your muscles ached and bruises had appeared in various places on your body, but the scrapes had stopped bleeding and it was nothing that would stop you from bringing your usual offering to Xiao. You spent some time perusing your garden, looking for the perfect gift. You settled on a Silk Flower, there was some worry in your mind that Xiao would dislike it because they did grow right outside of the Wangshu Inn, but you hope the exceptional fragrance and color of this specimen would gain his appreciation.

Mindful not to fiddle with the flower as to preserve its pristine state, you worried the whole walk to the inn. Even if the adeptus wasn't present, if he rejected the offering you felt you would know. Maybe you would find the flower sitting where you left it on your next visit, or maybe Verr Goldet would tell you about the silk flower she found laying on the balcony. Your heart clenched at the thought and you couldn't help but wonder when you had started seeking the yaksha's approval.

You hadn't even realized you arrived at the inn until you were stepping off the elevator, lost in thought again. Shaking your head, you thought it would be good if you started paying more attention. Getting ambushed by again was the last thing you wanted, the next time it could be worse than petty thieves.

Pushing the negative thoughts from your mind, you climbed the stairs to the balcony you so often visited. Your muscles ached in quiet protest, but the pain was mild. Peeking over the stairs, you spotted Xiao.

For the first time, he was already facing you, leaning with his back against the railing. You wondered if he had spotted you on your way to the Inn, offering him a polite smile as a silent greeting. You extended the Silk Flower to him once you stepped out onto the balcony.

"What happened to you?" Xiao asked immediately, tone stern. He took the flower from you without even sparing a glance down at it. Did he not like Silk Flowers?

"Oh, um, I just bumped into some Treasure Hoarders yesterday. Nothing serious," you answered after finally processing his question, bringing your hand up to the scrape on your cheek without thinking. His frown deepened with your response and the adeptus crossed his arms over your chest.

"You were hurt," he pointed out bluntly. You felt small under his hard stare.

"Oh, it's nothing, um, serious," you assured him with a nervous laugh. He only furrowed his brows at your response.

"If ever again you find yourself in any danger, call my name. Adeptus Xiao. I will be there when you call."

At his words, your cheeks heated up. Was this some sort of special treatment, or did he offer this to anyone? It felt wrong to receive such kindness from an adeptus if it was only for you.

"Promise," he pressed when you didn't answer.

"Okay, I will. If I'm ever in danger, I'll call you," you agreed meekly, feeling a great weight put upon you under his amber gaze. He huffed before disappearing in his usual manner, and it was impossible for you to tell if he was upset with you.

The next time you visited the inn, Xiao hadn't appeared. This wasn't unusual, but the worry that you had displeased him seeped into your bones. You tried to ignore this feeling, going out often to check on wildlife populations and spending extra time tending to your garden. Keeping busy was the best way to take your mind off your worries and stay productive.

A week after your meeting with the Vigilant Yaksha, you were back at Dihua Marsh checking on the Glaze Lilies. You were sitting in the middle of the lilies, singing softly to the patch of flowers when the sound of shouting reached your ears. Looking up, you noticed two hilichurls accompanied by a mitachurl with a stone shield who was charging your way.

There would be no time for you to get up and out of the way, so you closed your eyes and braced for the impact. You could only pray it wouldn't kill you, but even if it didn't you would probably be unable to escape death by the hilichurls soon after.

The impact never came, instead, a gust of wind blew past you and you wondered if the mitachurl had somehow run past you. When you opened your eyes, you saw Glaze Lily petals swirl into the air, dancing around the familiar figure of the Vigilant Yaksha. The mitachurl was already crumbling to dust, returning to the Abyss with it's hilichurl companions.

Xiao turned to face you, mask dematerializing from his face and reappearing at his hip. When he extended his hand down to help you get up, you furrowed your brows wondering why he had been here. Was it incredible luck, or had he perhaps been following you?

Taking his hand, you let him pull you up onto shaky legs. He didn't let go, looking a little worried you'd fall. You finally looked up to his face, scanning golden eyes.

"Why are you here?" you finally asked, throat feeling a bit scratchy.

"I told you I would be there when you called."

His words only confused you further until it dawned on you, the scratchy feeling in your throat was awfully similar to that which came with yelling. Had you truly called his name without even thinking, without even realizing?

"Thank you, Xiao."

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cassiabaggins · 3 years

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First Born

A/N: Kiliel week has finally come to a close! I had a lot of fun writing these and I wanna say a special thank you to @anjhope1 for being an amazing beta reader and getting me out of more than one slump! I have a super short bonus story I might post as well if anyone is interested. Also, the character Minasel does not belong to me, she’s the creation of @deathlikessodaandpizza and I included her as a little treat. You can read her story here if you are interested! Again, thank you all for your help and comments! I hope you enjoy this final part!

First Masterlist

Wordcount: 3k

Tags: @anjhope1 @deathlikessodaandpizza @guardianofrivendell @myrin1234 @wettomatodude @lothloriien @annkdarar @artsywaterlily @hmmm-what-am-i-doing @drowingintheempty @estethell @claraofthepen @kilielweek

Warnings: pregnancy, implied smut

Summary: Kili and Tauriel prepare for the birth of their first child, only they can’t decide on a name!

"Kili," Tauriel says one evening. "I want a baby."

Kili, sitting on his desk across the room, immediately stiffens, his back going ramrod straight. Then, he slowly turns around and just… stares at her, his brown eyes as round as saucers. He doesn't say anything, just stares, and the resulting silence is almost suffocating.

Tauriel shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, waiting for him to say something. It seems like he might, a few times, opening his mouth, and then closing it, and then opening it again, but he never speaks. She bites her lip. Probably should have approached this more delicately. "Kili?" She asks. He starts, like her voice has snapped him back to reality.

"Sorry," he says, suddenly standing up, "I just… now?"

Tauriel nods determinedly. No backing down now. "Yes. Now. I'm ready now."

Kili blinks. Suddenly, he's closing the distance between them, throwing off his shirt, and kissing her all at once. Tauriel bursts out laughing and welcomes his enthusiasm- they know it will be a long night.

Upon waking the next morning, she immediately knows it worked. She can sense, somehow, a tiny life beginning to grow inside her. It's what Kili would call a 'spooky elf power', to just know, right away, but she just… does. She places her hand on her stomach and turns her head to look at her husband. Kili is a messy sleeper, as usual, all sprawled out, the blankets barely covering his naked body. He's matured past the young dwarf Tauriel met in Mirkwood, having grown into his body much more, thickening out from the gangly (for a dwarf) young idiot she fell in love with, a longer beard and several scars also being obvious indicators of the passage of time. Tauriel scoots closer to him and rests her head on his chest, the weight of it waking him. Kili tenses up in a stretch and a yawn, extending his arms above his head, and then wrapping them around her.

"G'mornin'," he mumbles, rubbing her bare shoulder with one large, rough hand and pressing a sleepy kiss to the top of her head.

"Good morning," she replies.

"Wha' time izzit?"

"Early. The sun has not yet risen."

"Amrâlimê," he groans, grabbing the edge of the blanket and yanking it up to his shoulder. "Why did you wake me up? I can sleep in today!"

Tauriel bites back a soft laugh, helping him by pulling the other edge of the cover up and gently rubbing his chest. "I did not mean to. I apologize."

He lets out a wordless grumble, rolling them both over so he's snuggled up against her front, face against her chest, arms around her middle, and legs tangled with hers. "You're lucky I love you. Any other dwarf would protest quite heartily to an elvish witch waking them up before the sunrise."

"Elvish witch?" She asks with fake indignation.

Kili has the audacity to giggle in reply and she tugs at one of the braids that was left in his hair from yesterday. He lets out a shaky breath at that.

"I'm trying to sleep, witch."

"Are you?" She asks cheekily.

"Yes!" He untangles from her and rolls away to the very edge of the mattress, but Tauriel follows him, pressing her body up against his back.

"Kili," she whispers. "It worked."

"What worked?" He grumbles, trying to hide under the blankets. She chuckles and slides her arm around his middle, worming her hand under his arm until he lifts it to let her in.

"I'm pregnant," she murmurs in his ear. Kili goes still again. Then, he snorts.

"You're teasing me. You have no idea if it worked. Not yet at least."

"Oh, don't I?"

"Of course not. That's impossible."

"Mhm. Well. We could always try again, I suppose, just to make sure."

The speed at which he rolls over and on top of her is honestly impressive and she finds herself laughing into his mouth.

“I was being serious,” she says as they fall apart on the mattress, sweaty and sated. Kili looks over at her, wiping his bangs off his brow.

“What?”

“I was being serious. About being pregnant.”

Kili gapes at her, his eyes as wide as saucers. Then he sits bolt upright. “You were?!”

“Of course I was! Why would I joke about that?!”

“I don’t know!”

Kili covers his face. “Sweet Mahal. I’m going to be a father. Already. Y’know, I thought we’d have to try a few times at least! I didn’t think we’d get it in one go-- wait, how do you even know?!”

Tauriel props herself up on her elbow, thinking. “I don’t know. I just... do.”

He nods. “Fair enough.” He takes his hands off his face and looks at her. “We better start thinking about names.”

“Oh, we have time, meleth nin, don’t fret. We’ve a whole year to plan and get ready.”

“That doesn’t seem like enough time,” Kili mumbles.

“We did have several years before this,” She teases.

…

They don’t start thinking about names until a few months in, nor do they tell others about the pregnancy. The reaction from family and friends is ecstatic and the two of them are practically overwhelmed with well wishes and gifts and birthing advice and baby care tips. Tauriel finds herself quite glad that many of the dwarves are still cautious around her, especially when Cassia informs her bluntly that she very well might have perfect strangers come up to her and try to touch her belly the instant she starts showing. And that does not sound fun. Neither does the cravings or aches or morning sickness… For the most part, though, Tauriel is truly enjoying the experience of it. Her body is growing a tiny life! There is a baby inside her, living and developing and moving! She thinks it is beyond amazing and never passes up an opportunity to gush about it.

As the pregnancy progresses, they start thinking more seriously about names in between preparations. Kili has been insistent on a dwarven name, while Tauriel quite likes the idea of an elvish one.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks her husband one evening before bed. Kili is smoking his pipe and Tauriel is trying her best to knit a baby blanket. He blows a smoke ring thoughtfully.

"Names for our baby," he says. "I think it'll be a girl, so I've been thinking of girl names."

"Oh have you?" Tauriel asks, smiling. In her brief distraction she drops a stitch and frowns. This is harder than Dis and Cassia make it look.

He nods. "It’s tradition for the Durin line to give lasses names that end in "-is". My mother is Dis, my sister is Rhís, my great aunt was called Frís, and so on." He takes another drag from his pipe, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that lets Tauriel know he's been thinking quite hard about this.

"What have you come up with?" She queries, carefully unravelling and fixing her mistake.

"Eydís," Kili says. "It means 'good fortune' and she'll be our little treasure. What do you think?"

Tauriel frowns and lowers her knitting into her lap. "Well..." she says but is interrupted as Kili points his pipe at her in a joking manner.

"You don't like it,” he declares.

Tauriel hems and haws, not wanting to hurt his feelings. It’s a nice enough name, but not exactly what she had in mind.

"It's not that I don't like it, I just… I've gotten rather attached to the name Minasel."

Kili squints. “Minasel? What does that even mean?”

“It means tower of stars. I was thinking, since I want her to rise above all opposition…” She trails off, seeing the unimpressed look on Kili’s face, feeling anger flare. “Well! It’s better than Eydis!”

The argument about names does halt for the entirety of the pregnancy, Tauriel will say how little Minasel is being especially active today, or Kili will rub her belly and ask how little Eydis is that day, and from there the same repetitive argument will begin again. Both parents are exceedingly stubborn, and if one would give in, the other would have to give in just on principle and argue that the other name was much better than their idea. “No, really, it's a lovely name!” One will say. And the other will reply, “Well, I like the name you picked better!” And then they'd be right back at square one.

"What if you never decide on a name?" Fili asks one evening. The two brothers and their families are having a day off together, gathered in the large sitting room in the royal apartments. Kili shrugs.

"Then we hope the baby is a boy," he replies.

"And if it's not?"

Kili frowns. "Uhm…"

"How did you come up with the names for your children?" Tauriel asks her brother in law. “Didn’t you two ever argue about that?” Fili, bouncing his middle child, a lad named Kirin, on his knee, shrugs.

"Not exactly. Cassia's only request was our first daughter be named after her mother, and mine was that our first son be named for Thorin."

"What if you never have a daughter?" Kili challenges, "what then?"

"She thinks we will."

"I know we will!" Fili's wife, Cassia, enters the room, holding the littlest child in her arms. The infant, named Arnin, has just woken up from his nap, and blinks sleepily at them all over her arm, sucking on his fingers. "I just have a feeling our next will be a girl."

"After three boys?" Tauriel asks. Cassia sits down beside her friend and hands her the infant. Tauriel coos at him and tickles his stomach.

“I want at least eight children,” the Queen says, leaning back in her seat. “I’ve decided.”

"Eight?! You already have a preposterously large family with less than half that number!" Kili splutters.

“It’s how many she wants,” Fili says, as if that’s a perfectly valid reason.

"Nuncle Kili?" Fili and Cassia's oldest, Thorin, tugs on his uncle's pant leg. He had been playing on the floor. "What does proptserisly mean?"

"Preposterously," Kili corrects him gently, bending down to be at his level. "It means absurd or foolish."

"Oh. Are we pre...pre… prepops…"

"Preposterous?"

"Yes. Are we?"

"Indeed," Kili says, scooping him up into a hug. "Beyond a doubt!"

Thorin giggles and hugs him. "Mama!" He shouts, "we're propsterus!"

Cassia gives him a blank look. She hadn't been listening, busy talking with Tauriel. "Are we?"

"Nuncle Kili said so!"

“Kili, stop teaching him long words he can’t pronounce,” Fili says as Kili sets Thorin back down. The child runs to his mother and climbs into her arms.

“I’m improving his vocabulary!”

“Kili, he’s barely nine, when is he ever going to use the word preposterous?”

Tauriel laughs as the brothers argue, stroking Arnin’s curly hair. “If our baby is anything like this little pebble, I don’t think we have any cause to worry about them taking after Kili.”

Cassia fakes a shudder of horror. “Another Kili, running around causing havoc? That’s awful!”

The two of them giggle.

The months pass all in a rush, but also nowhere near fast enough and near the end Tauriel is well and truly fed up with being pregnant and Kili is desperate to meet his child.

The day of the birth, Tauriel goes into labor in the very early morning, and Kili sprints off to fetch the midwife. His mother and sister in law come to help with the birth. He is permitted to give his wife a kiss but is then promptly booted out the door to spend the time with Fili and his boys in their apartments, waiting with bated breath.

“Would you sit down and relax?” his brother says, blowing a smoke ring from his pipe.

“No! I cannot! I don’t know how you can expect me to sit down and relax when my wife is giving birth!” Kili shoots back and continues to pace. Fili raises an eyebrow at him.

“You’ll be pacing like that for a long time.”

“How long, adad?” Thorin asks sleepily, leaning against Fili’s side. He had awoken from the commotion of Cassia leaving and, despite the early hour, had been too excited to go back to bed, so Fili had permitted him to stay up.

“It depends,” he says, rubbing Thorin’s head. “It took all day for you to be born, so probably about the same.” The lad groans.

“All day?! But I wanna meet the baby now!”

“So does your uncle, but we’re all going to have to wait.”

After about half an hour, Thorin drops off to sleep and Fili tucks a blanket around him before walking over to stand next to his younger brother. “Here,” he says, offering his pipe. “You need this.”

Kili takes the pipe and inhales, letting the pipeweed calm his nerves and still the shaking in his hands.

“How long has Tauriel been having pains?” Fili asks, “Do you know?”

“She said she was beginning to feel it when we went to bed last night. She didn’t want to sleep but told me to.” Kili chews worriedly at the end of the pipe. “I feel like I should be there, helping her or something! I’ve never seen her in so much pain, Fi! Her face,” he waves his hand in front of his own, “was just white. I want to help her, Fili! I need to help her!” Kili cries, before placing his head in his hands.

“You’d probably get in the way if you tried,” Fili says bluntly. He places his hands on his brother’s shoulders and the weight grounds Kili, “Nothing will happen to her, she’ll be fine. You just have to relax.”

Kili looks up at Fili. “Are you sure?” He asks nervously. Fili nods.

“Of course I’m sure. Tauriel is one of the strongest people I know.” He pauses. “Don’t tell Dwalin I said that, though. He’d get indignant.”

That manages to make Kili let out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders fading away. Fili is right. Tauriel will be fine.

After what seems like an age, Cassia returns to fetch Kili and bring him to Tauriel. Right before he enters the room, he stops on the threshold, suddenly nervous. His sister in law turns back to him when she notices he’s not beside her anymore. She trots back to him and frowns, giving him a little shove toward the door.

“Are you going in or not? Go! Go see your wife!” Kili stumbles through the doorway and hurries into the room. Tauriel is sitting up in bed, holding a little bundle. She looks exhausted, her face drawn and her forehead sweaty, but her sunlight smile is beaming across her face. She is clearly happier in this moment, despite her pain and weariness, than she has ever been before.

"Would you like to meet your daughter?" Tauriel asks him. Kili is at her side in an instant, nodding. As he moves across the room, he vaguely notices the midwife and his mother off in the corner doing something, but he doesn't exactly care about them. He only cares about his wife and his newborn child. He sits on the edge of the bed and Tauriel leans against his shoulder, moving the blanket slightly so Kili can clearly see the face of his firstborn. The little baby has his eyebrows and nose and a full head of dark red hair, and tiny, pointed ears.

“Hello there,” he whispers, reaching out and touching that miniscule nose. The baby murmurs a bit in her slumber, her eyebrows drawing down in a surprisingly intense glare for a newborn. Kili feels tears burn at the back of his throat.

“Isn’t she perfect?” Tauriel says, smiling down at the baby, “Our little Minasel.”

Kili looks up from admiring his newborn daughter with a frown on his face. “Minasel?”

“Doesn’t it fit her perfectly?”

“But I wanted to name her---”

“Are you two still fighting over that?” Dis sighs, turning around. “Here, Kili, this is Eydis.”

Quite suddenly, Kili is being handed a second baby. Luckily, he’s held his nephews enough to know exactly how to position his arms and support her head and he does so almost on instinct. This baby is smaller than Minasel, completely bald atop her head, but just as is typical of dwarven babies, has a beard, soft and strawberry blonde.

“Twins?!” Kili shouts. “We had twins?!” Minasel and Eydis, startled by their father’s loud voice, burst into tears.

“Kili!” Tauriel and Dis scold, scrambling to quiet Minasel while Dis takes Eydis back to calm her.

“Sorry!”

Soon, the babies are quieted, sleeping peacefully. The midwives finish their work and leave the new parents alone to bond with their children. Somewhere along the line, Kili and Tauriel had traded babies, and Kili is now holding Minasel. Tauriel is nursing Eydis (another thing that isn’t as easy as it looks) and Kili carries his eldest daughter over to the window to get a better look at her. She squints hard when the sunlight hits her face, screwing up into that glare again, and then slowly blinks open her eyes. Kili’s breath catches in his throat. “Hello,” he whispers. Minasel squints at him, then opens them wider. “She has my eyes,” he says softly to Tauriel and draws his daughter up to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead. She sighs and sinks back into peaceful sleep.

“I’m glad she does,” Tauriel says, “I love your eyes. Eydis hasn’t opened hers, yet.”

Kili comes over to the bed. The smaller baby has finished nursing and is now laying peacefully in Tauriel’s arms, her eyes still squeezed shut. He sits down beside his wife and leans against her shoulder. “Can you show us your eyes, Eydis?” he whispers. To both their surprise, she squirms a bit and then blinks slowly. Her eyes are brown as well— wide, curious, and bright. She yawns hugely and makes a little noise that melts both their hearts. Kili beams.

“They both have my eyes!” He says happily.

“They do indeed,” Tauriel replies. “Here, why don’t we lay them next to each other?” She carefully sets Eydis on the bed and pats the space next to her tiny body. Kili lays Minasel down in the open space, and both babies immediately curl together as if they are still in the womb. Kili looks up and Tauriel with a tearful smile.

“They’re perfect,” he says. Turning to his wife, he smiles softly, “You’re amazing, amrâlimê.”

She blushes a bit. Even after nearly a decade of marriage he still manages to fluster her with his sweet words. “Thank you, meleth nin,” she says.

He leans forward and kisses her gently.

“Thank you for loving me,” she whispers and he smiles against her mouth.

“As if I could do anything less, my starlight.”

“That’s new,” she laughs.

“Aye, trying something out. What do you think?”

“I think ‘Starlight’ would better fit our little Minasel,” she replies honestly.

“I think so too, but what about Eydis?”

“She’s a little gem, isn’t she?”

“Ithtir and Ibinê,” Kili says softly. Tauriel gives him a confused look.

“I’m sorry?”

“Those can be their secret names, Ithtir and Ibinê, ‘Bright Star’ and ‘Little Gem’. Don’t you think they fit?”

Tauriel looks down at the twins, a soft smile on her face and sighs happily.

“They’re perfect.”

#kiliel #kilielweek #kiliel week #kilielweek2021 #kiliel week 2021 #kili #tauriel #my writing #fili #fili x oc #cassia baggins #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic #lotr #tolkien

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

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Sunday 13 April 1834

7 50

12 55

fine morning F49 ½° at 8 50 about which hour breakfast – read yesterday’s papers till 11 1/4 then writing out journal – read the short prayers in 35 minutes to my aunt and Oddy at 11 55, and then sermon (or lecture) 3 Volume I Mr Knight in ¼ hour – at my desk at 1 ½ and finished writing our journal up to so far of today till 2 1/4 - Thomas brought a letter from Miss W-, 3 pages and 1st page crossed - Rather disappointed at my not going till Tuesday - if entirely on her account, will be ready by 2pm or before tomorrow - wants me to set off ½ hour earlier than the time proposed to see Dr Belcombe her cousin not come I have not felt quite comme il faut without either much liking or being able to explain to him how I very charitably want you to bear the burden of doing it for me doesn’t suppose she will be prevented returning with me but Dr B- may will to try change of medicine and if I am detained a day not to let them be anxious about us here – not to expect us later at latest than ten poor girl I fear how it is and when she complained of enlargement this day week and uncomfortableness in walking it was that something coming on which I have unfortunately given her and which π- gave me in 1822 and which she would only laugh to think I had given poor Miss W- as she did on my giving it to Isabella well this will indeed set me against π- I shall say nothing but never never go near her again indeed without this added bar between my faith to Miss W- would have been enough this punishment is come to qualify my happiness and I deserve it why had I anything to do with π- when another man’s wife she had been bane enough to me writing the above till 2 ¼ pm and from then to 5 40 wrote 3 pages and ends to M- and 2 pages to Miss W- - ‘Shibden Hall Sunday evening 13 April 1834. Your letter, my dearest Mary, of Monday made as deep an impression upon me as I am sure you must have thought it would. I have read it again and again, and quite believe that I shall not slip too soon, and too entirely from the remembrance of our whole regard I have held so long - why should I ? Our respective duties, those which you have incurred before me and without me, and those which I have incurred more recently but more advisedly, demand no new sacrifices on either part. Let each of us do all that remains in our power towards the happiness of each other and let the world only have it to say, that friendship must be true which bears so well the test of heaped-up years and changeful circumstances. Mary! Since the past can’t be recalled, let us both try to make the best we can of the future - we have had experience enough – it is our own fault if we do not profit by it – we make our own fortune, Predestinarianism is absurd. Are we responsible agents? (What Christian dares deny it?) Then we are free ones; for God can’t be unjust. Let us not lose ourselves in subtleties and sophistries, there is one straight forward path of right and it is only in swerving from it, to this side or that, we become entangled. Cheer up Mary! The prospect is brighter than you think – we were both unhappy while we were both uncertain. Do you not remember telling me that the 3 most unhappy people you know, were those (you know to whom I allude) who had every earthly reason to be most otherwise? At least one of the 3, naturally contended and cheerful, could have given some reason for the extraordinary fact you mentioned. I saw, while yet it was afar off, the little curl upon the wave that betokened the coming storm. I warned you from the 1st, yet every eye saw better than your own. I have often told you, your blindness was unconceivable - the trouble came and the end of it could only be what it is - the little bark that held my hopes was wrecked. But sigh nor for me - the hand of Providence was by and I am safe – my only anxiety is for you. I have none for myself . Thank God! I know not that I have need of any - but I shall still watch over your happiness with more affectionate solicitude than you think – ‘the heart that has truly loved never forgets’ and you will always find me a friend, whose sincerity you may trust. Regret not the past. Be thankful, and be assured that heaven has ordered all things well. I hope you will find me a great and safe and lasting comfort. I am conscious of no feeling with which you on yours can find fault. I hope we shall all meet by and by and that the individual happiness of each will only add to the common stock. Mary! You may live to do a world of good to me and to us all. I will see you in the summer if I can, but I dare not count upon it for the state of my aunt’s health as well as other circumstances may put it out of my power.

Announcement to M- respecting Miss W-

I can’t be quite so much under my own control, as formerly - my days of solitude are surely drawing to a close. I am going to York on Tuesday – at any rate we shall be at home on the latter day to a late dinner. My father, aunt and sister are so well satisfied that all Shibden disagreeableness are smoothed away as much as possible. Marian has really taken me by surprise I had certainly no right to calculate upon her being half so kindly accommodating. My father’s life seems more and more uncertain and my aunt’s state of extreme suffering can’t be supported forever. But she rallies extraordinary every now and then. I suppose your friends are not yet on the other side of water. Heaven prospers all you schemes of heart and happiness and mental improvement. I am glad Miss Cholmly is in your neighbourhood, it was very good of her to beg to be remembered to me. Do pray give my remembrance in return. I saw her to get advantage last summer and thought of her more than once afterwards. Her being an old friend of yours was nothing against her. I often thought, I should like to see Emma Strickland again - I did not see much of Mrs Milne in York, but thought her looking thin, and anxious. I suppose Hamlyn was off on Monday, and that Mrs Milne would return with Charlotte to Langton. But no more - my own mind is not perhaps less than yours astray from chit chat. God bless you my dearest Mary, you will find my regard affectionate and steady and especially yours. A. Lister.’

To Miss W- said grieved over having put off going till Tuesday - my first impulse was to go tomorrow, or, to do quite as I liked this evening, but after thinking about all the afternoon saw it would be better to keep to Tuesday now it had been fixed – she would understand all this on coming here or on seeing me. ‘But your account of yourself puzzles me. However not a word more just now’ - very impatient to see her - the time will seem an age – will see Dr Belcombe – he to be at Heworth Grange at one or 12 ½ - do not see what can prevent her returning with me ‘but we will be guided by Dr Belcombe. I can be patient, or wait, or do anything for your health’....... ‘I cannot tell what to think’.... ‘I shall not write much more. I am too impatient etc. I do not pretend to care nothing at all about you..... I should be off this evening if I did as I liked. Don’t go beyond the garden on Tuesday morning. Ever my dearest faithfully and affectionately yours. A. Lister’. Dinner at 6 – coffee in an hour – having Marian with me the whole time. From 7 5 to 7 ¾ wrote all but the first 4 lines of this page and sent off by Thomas my letter to ‘Miss Walker Heworth Grange York’ and my letter to ‘Mrs Lawton, Claremont House, Leamington, Warwickshire’ musing over my letter till 8 ¾ then with my aunt till 10 read papers – very fine day – F55° at 12 ¼ tonight

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

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Breakable Heaven (pt. III) - p.l. dubois

Part I II

Here’s part III! One more part after this, then we’re going to be finishing up our time with Laurel and Pierre-Luc. It’s seriously been so so much fun writing this over the past few weeks, and I’m excited to get to keep the story going. Many many thanks to @hockeyboysiguess for being a great sounding board for Breakable Heaven so far, my favorite response of hers to anything I’ve sent has got to be “that’s rude.” So, enjoy! Reblog if you enjoy it, come scream into my inbox, and I still read every tag!

Part III

July 10 (sat)

Laurel was exhausted. Two hours after the wedding, her and her meager bridal party had shown up to her house, piling everything she hadn’t yet brought over to Pierre’s apartment into her SUV and Madeline’s white sedan. She left her old apartment with the keys at the front office and one last wistful look into the place that had once been her own. She’d miss it, she thought, as she and Pierre drove down the Ville-Marie Expressway towards his apartment, her fingers still trying to get used to the feeling of having rings on it. She’d only lived in the space for a year, but it was in that building that she started her dream job, that space that she adopted her dog, that apartment where she met one of her best friends and that place where she got married.

They had spent a few hours half-heartedly unpacking her boxes; Laurel was excited to get settled in, but she was also the world’s worst procrastinator and even at 6 PM, all that she had managed to get done was folding some clothes and adding her book collection to the shelves in the living room. Pierre poked his head into the spare room — her room? — rolling his eyes when he saw her “progress.” “I was going to order in, what do you feel like?”

Laurel hung up a blazer in the closet. “Pizza?” she asked hopefully. “Though I’m really going to have to teach you to cook one of these days. We can’t survive off of take-out and pasta alone.”

“If that’s how you want to be,” he responded good-naturedly. “I’ll have you know that I can cook more than pasta, though.”

“Really?” Laurel asked, raising her eyebrows. “What’s the Chef Dubois specialty?”

“I make a mean salmon,” he replied, before returning to the living room. That was another thing she had to get used to quickly as soon as they started going through the marriage process: Québec didn’t allow for women to take their husbands’ names at marriage. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought too deeply about, but Laurel supposed she’d always assumed that she’d take her husband’s name when she got married. But then again, she always assumed she’d get married under normal circumstances. Her parents aside, Cloquet wasn’t an absurdly conservative town, but it was still certainly something of an anomaly for a married woman to still have her maiden name. Which is what she was now. A married woman. Oh God.

Pizza with white wine may not have been the most conventional choice, but it got the job done, Laurel thought as she lay in bed at half past midnight, the birds outside her door insisting on making her efforts to fall asleep as futile as her efforts to ignore them. She’d already been in bed for an hour; after dinner, her and Pierre watched a few episodes of Black Mirror — also probably not the best choice to do before bed, but oh well — before he wished her a good night’s sleep. She had taken a melatonin and drank a cup of tea before bed, put on a playlist full of rain noises, but nothing seemed to be working. Maybe it was because it was the first night in a new place, or the birds outside, or just the craziness and excitement of the day catching up to her.

Laurel felt like a child again as she padded over to Pierre’s room, like she was five and back in Minnesota, crawling into her parents’ bed after hearing a wolf howl somewhere on the property. But really, she didn’t really care what she had to do if it meant she could get a good night’s rest. She knocked lightly on his door, careful not to wake up the dogs, who had long since fallen asleep in a corner of the living room. “Mmm?” he answered. She turned the doorknob. God, I hope I didn’t wake him up. She didn’t, as it would turn out; Pierre was propped up on his headboard, scrolling through his phone as he moved his eyes from his screen to her figure in the doorway. “You good? Everything okay?”

Laurel shrugged, wiggling her hand. “I don’t know what it is, I tried everything but I’m just not able to get to sleep. I’d try and wait it out, but my sleep cycle will be thrown off for a week if I’m not able to get to bed tonight.”

He moved over from the middle, reaching over to the side of his bed and getting another pillow before throwing back the covers and patting the spot next to him. “C’mere.”

“Are you sure?” Laurel said, furrowing her brow, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was wearing an old t-shirt and panties, leaving very little to the imagination.

He nodded, putting his phone down on the nightstand, smiling softly at her. “Of course. What’s mine is yours, eh?” That was all it took for Laurel to climb into the right side, claiming it as her own, and throw the duvet over her body. She fell asleep almost instantly.

---

Laurel woke up to the unmistakable smell of bacon frying and the other side of the bed devoid of Pierre’s sleeping form. She straightened the bed before walking out, where she was greeted by two plates on the breakfast bar, a pot of coffee brewing, and her husband at the stove.

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook?” Laurel teased, leaning up against the granite countertop.

“Good morning to you too.” Pierre shrugged. “I hardly think being able to fry an egg and not burn toast qualifies as cooking, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Laurel stepped further into the kitchen, lightly dragging her fingers over his back in a silent thank you as she opened the cupboard. “Let me get the coffee, at least,” she said, grabbing two mugs off the shelf and the creamer out of the fridge. “How do you take yours?” Laurel asked, glancing at Pierre from the side as he buttered the toast.

“A little bit of cream, more sugar,” he replied, sliding the plates onto the bar as she handed him his mug. “Perfect,” he said, smiling. A few minutes into breakfast, with Laurel just about to crunch into her second piece of toast, he spoke again. “So, I was thinking…”

She nodded. “I should hope so?”

Pierre laughed, ducking his head. “I was going to post something about the wedding today, online and stuff, but wanted to check with you first.” They had spoken about it once or twice before the wedding, both of them knew that it wasn’t practical nor honest to think that they’d be able to keep the news from everyone over the entire duration of their temporary marriage. And part of the “sell,” part of what she needed to prove, was that their relationship was real. And real would mean posting about each other online, real would mean flying down a few times a month — thank God her schedule gave her a long weekend, and thank God the flight wasn’t too long — for games and galas and real would mean meeting his friends and him meeting her family and Laurel had to stop thinking about it all before her head exploded.

“Go for it,” she said. “I don’t like having to hide from it any more than you do, so it’ll be a relief to let everyone know, give a heads-up to the four people on my Instagram page who actually care about my life.

Pierre poked her arm. “Five, now.” He opened his phone, scrolling through the pictures Madeline had sent from yesterday. She had run a small side business doing photography in university, and insisted on taking their photos as a wedding present. “You deserve something beautiful to look back on,” she had said. The final book wouldn’t be done for a few weeks, but she had sent over the raw shots the night before. “What about this one?” He leaned over to show her. Their foreheads were touching, his arms wrapped around her waist as they stood in the middle of one of Vieux Port’s cobblestone side streets. Laurel’s fingers brushed the back of his neck, her other hand loosely holding her bouquet. If you didn’t know, they looked like a real couple. They looked like they were in love.

“It’s gorgeous,” Laurel murmured softly. “I knew Madeline was talented, but wow. She outdid herself.”

Pierre nodded in agreement. “She did. I know I already told you, but you really did look incredible.” Laurel’s cheeks burned; she raised her mug to her lips, hopeful the oversized ceramic would cover enough of her face that he couldn’t see the effect his words had had on her. Laurel opened her own phone, scrolling through to find the matching photo. A few minutes later, he handed her his phone and she passed hers, giving their captions one last once-over before giving up their secret. Her eyes flitted across the screen.

Yesterday, I had the incredible fortune of marrying @laurel.klerken, the best person I’ve ever had the fortune of loving. I know it might come as a shock, and that we’ve kept our relationship under wraps since realizing after years of being friends that friendship just wasn’t enough any more, but this wasn’t a decision that either of us made lightly. Laurel, you’re an amazing woman, and even though it’s only been a day, an amazing wife. Whether it’s for your patients, your friends, or me, you make everyone around you feel warm, safe, and cared for beyond measure. You have a sharp wit and an even sharper mind, and I have endless admiration for how committed you are for standing up for what’s right, even when it’s not popular and even if it’s gotten you in trouble once or twice. Marriage is a partnership and a journey, and I’ve never been so excited to start a new adventure.

Laurel sniffed, not even noticing the tears pricking her eyes until Pierre handed her a tissue. “Thanks,” she murmured. “You don’t think you’re laying it on a little thick, though?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Not at all.” One tap later, and it was posted. Three minutes later, his phone rang as they were doing the breakfast dishes. Cap ❤️ flashed across the screen. Pierre grimaced. “It’s the captain. I should probably answer this one,” he said, pressing the speaker button as he dried his hands on a spare towel.

“You’re married,” Nick Foligno said, wasting no time. “Is this a fucking joke?” Laurel more than understood his apprehension, but the words still stung.

“Yes I am,” Pierre said slowly, “and no, it’s not a joke. Laurel and I are legally married in the province of Québec.”

She could hear a labored breath from the other line, followed by an airy laugh. “What the hell, man?”

Nick was ultimately happy for them, and after being introduced to Laurel after they switched the call over to FaceTime he apologized for his reaction, but Laurel waved him off. “You’re just looking out for your boy is all. I’d do the same.”

Nick nodded. “Take care of him for us, Laurel. Your address still the same?” He looked over towards Pierre, who hummed his assent. “Janelle and I will send you something. Something useful.”

---

July 28 (wed)

“Something useful” turned out to be a gorgeous set of Wüsthof knives and a stand mixer, the latter of which Laurel was nearly jumping out of her socks with excitement to try. Baking had long since been one of her favorite hobbies and her go-to method of stress relief; while she was grateful for the arm muscles her years of having to hand mix everything had given her, she wasn’t going to miss the extra effort. So Laurel Klerken was taking full advantage of her new toy. She had gone down to the Jean-Talon market in the morning, which was quickly becoming one of her favorite weekly activities. Especially with Pierre around to help her, she was learning to shift her speaking into the Québecois dialect, and her French was good enough to order from the vendors in their language and be understood. In her book, that was a win. The peak of summer meant it was berry season in Montréal, which meant it was time for Laurel to break out her nana’s blueberry oatmeal muffin recipe. And chocolate chip walnut cookies. And a French apple tart. Okay, so maybe she went a little bit overboard, but they had their desserts for the week and it made the kitchen smell so good.

Pierre opened the door just as Laurel was pulling out the last pan of cookies, walking around the corner into the kitchen and raising his eyebrows at the view. She looked over at him. “You going to complain about your wife’s baking when you’re the primary beneficiary?” she asked, challenging him with a playful smile on his face.

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, holding the mail between two fingers. “No.” He picked one of the cookies off of the cooling rack, taking a bite. “Definitely not.”

Laurel nodded towards the mail, walking over to the sink to wash her hands. “What came in the mail?”

“Nothing much,” he said, shrugging. “Just a little letter from IRCC.”

Her eyes lit up. “Immigration finally got back? Did they send my card?”

Pierre nodded, handing her the envelope. It barely took five seconds for her to rip it open. “You, Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, are now officially a permanent resident of Canada. Congrats, babe.”

Laurel squeaked in excitement, dancing around in the kitchen , the holographic detailing on the card catching the glow of the late-afternoon light. She threw her arms around Pierre, giving him a kiss on the cheek that was just barely off to the side of his lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said breathlessly.

“Don’t mention it.”

She pulled back, still smiling. “No, ‘don’t mention it’ is for when you bring home dinner without being asked, or take a drunk friend home from the bar. Not for things like this,” she said, wiggling her card. “This is everything to me, P. I get to stay in the city that I love, I get to stay at the job that I love. I get to —” She looked down, eyes widening. “I can finally get a health card!”

Pierre let out a laugh. “Out of everything, you’re most excited about that?” Being a dual citizen who lived in the U.S. for the better part of the year, Pierre understood the absolute chasm of accessibility that separated the American and Canadian health insurance systems better than most, but he still looked at his wife’s choice with incredulity.

“Of course it is,” Laurel said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. She still had insurance purchased through her work, but the fact that now it was so much easier and official and came out of her taxes instead of having to try and navigate the bureaucratic system of forms and checks and private insurance companies made it so much easier. “It’s just nice to finally be a part of a system that acknowledges healthcare as the human right it is. That’s another thing about how it works in the U.S., it’s tied to employment a lot of the time so it’s not always a guarantee.”

She gave a tense smile, leaning back against the counter. “I might seem a little worked up about it, but that’s because I am. Uh,” she paused, eyes flickering up towards the chrome-plated track lighting, “my dad lost his job when I was a kid. He was a foreman at a construction company, but then the recession hit in ‘08 and he was laid off. We lost our insurance. Maggie and I were able to get on MinnesotaCare, which is the state insurance for low-income families, but our parents didn’t get approved. Not enough money to go around, I guess,” she scoffed. “Unemployment wasn’t paying enough and mom’s job isn’t full-time, so she doesn’t get benefits. Apparently they think healthcare is a benefit.” Laurel took another pause. “And then Dad had a stroke. It wasn’t serious, thank God, but the bills...Maggie was almost graduating high school and headed off to college, and money was tight even before the layoffs. We were able to come up with the money, but only because the community really came together, in a way I had never seen before. I still haven’t seen anything like it since. Bake sales, church fundraisers, garage sales.” The tiniest of smiles played on Laurel’s lips as she looked back up at her husband. “Do you know how much pasta Minnesotans can eat at a spaghetti dinner?”

“A lot?”

“A whole hell of a lot,” Laurel confirmed. “But anyways. That’s when it became personal to me, and I think it’s why healthcare and access to quality care is still something that I’m still so passionate about and invested in. It’s why I became a nurse.”

Pierre walked over to her carefully, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “It makes absolute sense, Laurel. I know that probably wasn’t easy for you, so thank you for sharing. It means a lot to me that you’re willing to let me in like that.” Laurel wasn’t a cold person by any means; she was one of the kindest and most giving people Pierre had ever met, even in the few months that they’d known each other. But she was someone that could be guarded at times — for very good reason — and it meant the world to him that she was willing to let him chip away her hardened exterior little by little to see the brilliance that lay within.

She pressed against his side, her head resting on his arm. “You’re my husband. Why wouldn’t I?”

---

Laurel was in the ensuite of her and Pierre’s room, washing her face before going to bed, when she heard her phone vibrate with a text. After that first night, Laurel had made it a habit of sharing a bed; she’d never slept better in her life than the past two and a half weeks, and even though she may have been loath to admit it, waking up to an incredibly attractive man — who was shirtless half of the time — wasn’t something she was about to complain about. “Can you get that for me?” She was expecting a text from her mom, something about confirming her and her dad’s flight times for their visit next week.

“Laurel?” Pierre called cautiously.

She turned towards him, patting her face dry. “What? Did their gate get changed or something?”

He shook his head, walking towards her and holding the phone out like it was a bomb. “It’s Maggie.”

Laurel’s mouth immediately went dry. “M-Maggie?” She took the phone, staring at the screen, open to the text.

“Do you want to talk to her? You don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it,” Pierre said, searching her face for any semblance of apprehension. As far as he knew, she hadn’t talked to her sister in years, and he didn’t know why that was suddenly about to change.

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I just...I have no idea what she wants. Why, after three years, is she finally deciding that she wants to be a part of my life again?” She looked down at her phone.

So, I had to hear it through the Cloquet grapevine that you got married?? What’s that about, L? Maggie wrote. Laurel pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. The gossip train in her hometown was second to none; to be honest, she was a little bit surprised it even took her older sister this long to hear about it. She was already enough of an anomaly. Less than a quarter of her city had a college degree, even fewer left the state to do it, so her going to Toronto for university was practically unfathomable — even if it was closer than Texas, where her second-choice school was. So, needless to say, she was a frequent headline in the Cloquet rumor mill. She had heard it all. That she had run off to Canada to escape a high school sweetheart turned sour, that she had cut off all ties with her family, that she had shaved half of her head and dyed her eyebrows bright pink. The last one actually had some truth to it, but it was just the eyebrows and she was a drunk 20-year-old, and at least she didn’t get a tattoo of the Maple Leafs logo on her thigh like her friend Ethan.

But this one wasn’t a rumor, and if nothing else, Maggie deserved to know that much. Not much to say. It’s true, if that’s what you were wondering.

Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out third-hand?

Laurel rolled her eyes, sitting down with a huff on the edge of their bed. Not to be harsh, Maggie, but it’s not like you’ve wanted to be that invested in my life since you left home. How was I supposed to know if this was even your number any more? I don’t even know what country you’re in right now.

Her response was almost immediate. I’m working at a hostel in Tokyo. But seriously? I know we haven’t been super close the past few years, but I’m still your sister, and I would have thought you’d tell me about something like this. Getting married is big. You don’t think you’re still a little young? Have you even finished school yet?

I graduated last year, I’ve been working at a hospital in Montréal for over a year, Maggie. And I know it’s a little early, but Pierre-Luc and I are happy. I love him, and he’s a good man and respects the hell out of me. I don’t really need anything else.

It was a few minutes before her next text came through, this time in all caps. YOU MARRIED A FUCKING NHLER? Laurel grew up knowing hockey, obviously; you couldn’t really live in Minnesota and not, and she wasn’t even a half-bad skater herself, but Maggie had always been the more dedicated of the sisters. She’d been the one who was always begging their dad to make the two-hour drive to St. Paul for a Wild game. Even when money was tight, Doug always found a way to scrape up enough for the tickets as her birthday present in January.

Denise from church didn’t tell you?

All she said was that it was some hot French-Canadian guy, and mom said you moved to Quebec, so I thought it could be any number. Fair enough.

Denise seriously called him hot?

Laurel could imagine her sister rolling her eyes all the way in Japan. Okay, fine, she didn’t say hot. But like...am I wrong?

For the first time in a long time, her sister made her laugh. Yeah, okay. He’s hot. I’m very aware that my husband is a class-A babe.

“You think I’m hot?” Pierre said, peeking over her shoulder and wiggling his eyebrows.

Laurel’s cheeks heated. “Yes, okay. I think you’re very attractive. Happy?”

“Very,” he responded. “I’m glad my wife thinks I’m hot. The feeling’s mutual,” he said before walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth, leaving her even more flustered than before. She turned back to her conversation with Maggie. My shift is about to start, so I’ve got to go. But I’m happy for you, L. I really am. You’ve done exactly what you want with your life, and I couldn’t be more proud.

Laurel’s finger traced the words on the screen, a small smile on her face as Pierre came back into the room, throwing back the sheets. She plugged her phone into its charger, turning it face-down onto the nightstand. Things weren’t perfect between her and Maggie; far from it. One conversation over text wasn’t going to change that. But maybe, just maybe, there was still something there that was worth saving. After flicking off the lights, the last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of Pierre snaking his arm around her waist, pulling her to rest her back up against his chest. And Laurel let him.

August 17 (tues

It had been one of the worst days of Laurel’s life, and she wasn’t one for dramatics. Certainly the worst shift of her career. She knew when she chose to work in a pediatric intensive care unit, that it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. If she wanted sunshine and rainbows, she would have gone with something less taxing. Something like dermatology, or working in a pediatrician’s office, or being a school nurse. God knows she could hand out ice packs and tampons. But no, she had to pick critical care, and critical care with children, one of the most emotionally and mentally taxing areas in the entire healthcare field. She saw the highest highs, the incredible moments when a three-year-old girl with a brain hemorrhage was able to get home, or a twelve-year-old boy finally got a kidney transplant after having been waiting for years. She saw the highest highs, but on days like today, she also saw the lowest lows.

Laurel carried her scrub top in one hand, her backpack slung over one shoulder, and tried desperately to regulate her breathing as she turned her key in the lock, pushing the door open. No matter how many times she had helped her patients breathe, she never seemed to be able to take her own advice.

Pierre stood in the kitchen, making a smoothie, but immediately turned off the blender when he saw her face. “What happened?” he asked, gently taking her bag from her and placing it on the floor.

Laurel collapsed into his arms almost instantly. “T-there was a little girl who c-came in yesterday from a car crash, and it was pretty b-bad, but she made it through the night and everyone thought she’d b-be fine,” she hiccuped, “but then right at the end of m-my shift she started coughing up b-blood and she was crashing, so I tried to do CPR until the t-team got there, but it didn’t work and we…” Laurel trailed off, sobbing, gripping the back of Pierre’s shirt like a lifeline. “We lost her, P. And the doctor on call was tied up with another patient, so I had to notify the family, and God, it was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. She was only seven.” She looked down at her scrub top. “I have to go throw this in the washing machine before the stain sets.”

Pierre pulled back slightly, gently taking the navy shirt from her, giving a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll do it. You need to rest. Take a shower, or a bath, get into some comfortable clothes. I’ll take care of dinner.”

It was almost forty-five minutes later when Laurel finally emerged from the bathroom, clad in high school sweats and a faded Blue Jackets t-shirt. “I hope you didn’t mind that I took this one,” she said, picking at a loose thread on the bottom hem, “I hadn’t gotten to laundry yet this week.”

“It’s fine, Laur,” Pierre said, plating chicken stir-fry and rice. Cooking together had become one of their things; Pierre certainly wasn’t as hopeless as some people she had met, and he was right that he made an excellent salmon. But they couldn’t eat fish every day of the week, so Laurel broke out one of her few cookbooks and they had been making their way through the recipes together. They had finished breakfast and were making their way through poultry. Hence, chicken stir-fry. “You look better in it anyways.”

They ate in silence, her half-heartedly picking up forkfuls of rice only to put them down again. She smiled weakly at Pierre. “The food’s good, I swear. I just don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”

“I get that,” he said. “How about I put this in away in the fridge and you can get a yogurt or something? You don’t have to have a full meal, but you should eat something. We can watch something after, or you can go to bed if you’re not feeling up to it. Your call.”

“TV sounds nice, do you still have the old Parks & Rec recorded?” Laurel needed something she didn’t need to pay attention to, something that could just be background noise as she tried to sift through the emotions of her day and try to make sense of it all.

He nodded. “Wouldn’t get rid of it before asking, I know how much you love it.”

They were curled up on the couch together a few minutes later, a striped blanket thrown over Laurel’s lap despite the weather outside still lingering in the mid 70s. It wasn’t for warmth, not really; it was for comfort. Pierre’s arm was slung over her back, his thumb absentmindedly moving across her upper arm. She leaned into his touch, hardly paying attention to the show. “Do you want to talk about it?” Pierre murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You don’t have to, but it might help.” He wasn’t an expert by any means, but Pierre obviously knew that people died in hospitals, in intensive care units even more so. Which meant that there was an almost surefire chance that she had had people die on her watch, die on her shift. Had children die on her watch. And that didn’t mean she was a bad nurse or a bad person, but just that sometimes there were illnesses and injuries so severe that even the best medical care in the province couldn’t save them. So why was this one impacting her so intensely? Had she reacted this way before, with Madeline or her coworkers, and he just hadn’t seen it before? Or was there something different about this case, about that girl that made it hit closer to home for some reason?

Laurel took a shaky breath. “I know you’re right, that it’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside. But that’s what I’m used to, you know? I love my job, I do, but you have to compartmentalize sometimes. With this one, it’s just…” She searched for the right words. “It was so immediate, so in front of me, that I didn’t have any time to reach beyond trying to save her life. I didn’t think, I just went based on instinct and training. And she still died.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Laurel,” Pierre said firmly. “You did everything you could, you did everything right.”

“I know that,” she sniffed, “but it’s so hard to believe sometimes. That if I had gotten there a few seconds sooner, or if the crash team had been a little earlier, she might have survived. And I wouldn’t have had to tell a mother and father that their daughter was dead.” Pierre felt terrible, like there was nothing he could do, because there was nothing he could do, not apart from sit and listen. “I think it was different this time because I finally saw myself in their shoes, I obviously don’t have kids, not yet, but I imagined what it was like to have to be on the receiving end of that news, and it tore me apart, P.” Her voice cracked, and his heart broke. “Being the mom to a beautiful child and then all of the sudden having them all of the sudden stripped away? No longer living? I know that life’s not fair, but fuck, I thought I thought it would be a little better than this.”

Her voice went silent, and Pierre took the opportunity to speak. “It’s not fair, and I think part of what makes you so good at what you do is the fact that you recognize that. You’re so dedicated to giving everyone that comes through those doors the best care, because you genuinely believe that they deserve it. And that’s incredible. You don’t get complacent, you’re never satisfied with just doing things adequately and just enough to get by. You give everything 110%, and that’s how I know the kind of incredible person you are.” He paused. “And I think every parent worries about their kid getting sick, or getting hurt. I know mine did, and I’d be willing to bet yours were the same way. Worrying means you care. And you care the most deeply, the most genuinely, out of anyone I’ve ever met. And I know, when the time comes, that you’ll make an amazing mother. Whoever gets to do that with you will be a lucky man.”

“You really think so?”

Pierre slipped his hand into hers. “Positive.”

September 10 (fri)

Laurel’s fingers tapped nervously on the counter as she waited for Pierre to bring the last of his bags from the bedroom. He didn’t usually schlep a ton of things back-and-forth from Montréal to Columbus every time he needed to travel, but his ticket came with two free checked bags and if there was one thing Pierre-Luc Dubois was, it was efficient. It was the middle of September, and that meant training camps. That meant leaving Québec. That meant Ohio. That meant not seeing Pierre for weeks at a time, when the longest they had been apart since July was a two-day trip to Québec City Laurel took with her parents when they visited in August. Over the past two months, they had settled into a routine, and that routine was about to be broken. Grocery shopping, him washing the dishes while she dried, falling asleep together and waking up with legs tangled in the middle of the bed. She knew that he liked his coffee with a little bit of cream and more sugar, that Georgia got fussy if she wasn’t let out in the morning but Paul was more of a night owl, that dessert wasn’t supposed to be on his meal plan every day but that she could always get him to break for a slice of peach pie. He knew that she needed two Advil on the first day of her period because one just wouldn’t cut it, that her favorite Disney princess was Jasmine because of her independence, and that she liked to light lavender candles when she was stressed.

Pierre wheeled a bag out of the doorway. “That the last one?” Laurel asked, passing Phil’s leash to him as she held Georgia’s. He nodded. She spun her keys around on her finger. “Got both of your passports?”

Pierre patted his jacket pocket. “Right here.” It was easier for him; he could skip the wait in both countries. Exit Canada with the Canadian, enter the U.S. with the American.

It was 2 and his flight wasn’t until 4:15, but Laurel didn’t trust the traffic and she didn’t trust the wait times at the airport. “Guess we should get going then.”

“Guess we should.” Laurel grabbed one bag and he got the other, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and wheeling it out the door. It only took twenty minutes to get to the airport. Laurel pulled up next to the curb, double-checking the signs to make sure she wasn’t about to get fined for stopping, and put the car into park. Pierre was the first to open his door, grabbing both the dogs; Laurel followed suit a moment later.

“You’ve got to pop the trunk, babe,” Pierre murmured. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, right,” she said, pressing the button on her key. It popped open with a telltale click; Pierre hefted out the black bag, she got the silver one. “Do you know how many people are going to have this exact bag? It’s going to be a nightmare at baggage claim, P” Laurel tried to joke. She always coped with humor.

Pierre laughed, this time a real one. “Fair enough. Guess I’ve got a lot riding on my luggage tags,” he said, flicking one of the offending objects around the handle of the bag, the black one. Laurel handed him the other handle, their fingers brushing as he gripped the metal. He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. He could see the apprehension in her eyes. There were a lot of things that Laurel Klerken did well, really well, but lying was never one of them. She was always an open book. “Hey, don’t look so down, Laur,” he said softly. “I know you’ll be missing your personal space heater and Piper will miss her siblings, but you’re coming to visit in two weeks and it’s going to be amazing. I’ll introduce you to the boys and the other wives, you’ll get to catch one of the preseason games, finally see my place in Columbus. It might be weird being alone for a while, but —” He cut himself off. “Scratch that, it will be weird for a while, for both of us, but we’ll get through it. You’re a great person, and not a terrible wife either. People have done long-distance relationships that were longer distances for more time, and they made it through just fine. You’ll be okay, Laur. We’ll be okay.”

Laurel took an unsteady breath, trying her best to put on a brave face. “Not a terrible wife, huh? Well, you’re not half a bad husband either.” As she spoke, she was thinking over his words. How normal they sounded, but how abnormal that was for them. They weren’t a normal couple, all they really were were friends who got married — right? So why was he saying those things, things that made him seem like a real husband talking to his real wife, things that were making her feel that maybe, just maybe, this marriage wasn’t as much of a hoax as the thought it was? And it was only because of that, only because she was either reading way too much into a situation that wasn’t even there or was the premier of reading people’s body language and being able to parse out their unsaid words, that she did what she did next. She threw her arms around her husband, and she kissed him.

#hockey imagine #hockey writing #pierre-luc dubois #hockey #hockey smut #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl smut #nhl #nhl imagines #pierre luc dubois

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acedhigh · 3 years

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SIEGEMAS 2020 @dualrainbow starring: Marius Streicher, Dominic Brunsmeier, Monika Weiss, Elias Kötz. main blog: @elitejager note: hey to anyone who reads this, I haven’t written anything in forever and the only time I’ve ever written a fic was a request, so this is a first for me. as an Autistic person I wanted to touch on the topic a little (i.e how the world views us versus how we view others and express ourselves) and incorporate it into my prompt for this piece. Marius inspires me a lot, I know he’s a popular part of Team Rainbow so I hope you all like it & happy holidays ✌

07 December.

As an icy chill snaked its way down his nape, Marius was reminded of the changed season. Days, weeks even, inside the workroom (his 'safehaven' as he called it to himself), made time and weather and all things mundane merge together in one big negligible blur. The transition between October into November now early December had seemed so...rapid. "Getting lost in one's work" was nothing short of apropos for this revelation; Unfazed by the cold however, he merely rolled down his sleeves and resumed gazing intently at his go-to site for ordering parts - Hated the white background (far too garish) but it offered the best of the best, and a quicker delivery schedule. He'd need it. It wasn't unusual for him to spend great bouts of time in one place. Even less unusual to be knee-deep in a project or two. But it was when morning frost and Christmas music became part of everyday life to crudely round off the year, that Monika and Elias were particularly attentive to Marius and his propensity to isolate. He'd been like that as long as they could recall. It could be almost jarring at first - His quips that'd rub less-familiar colleagues the wrong way, the speed at which his social battery would fizzle out like an ember, and a subtle arrogance which stepped on many toes. In contrast to Marius' heated and bull-headed nature, even his enthusiasm and eagerness to share or contribute somehow seemed misplaced or perhaps just poorly timed; Boundaries were a struggle and frequently crossed line despite how many walls he put between himself and others. He was unpredictable to most. "Hard to decipher", as Monika once put it. She was the first out of the four to recognize he was on the spectrum, and it tugged at her heartstrings to watch him endure contempt in place of a little understanding - But she vowed to hold her tongue. She did not want to patronise or belittle someone as bold as Marius. After all, in many ways she considered him to rival herself academically, and that garnered much of her respect. He was capable, he didn't need her or anybody else to coddle him or worry. Monika did not worry about him at all in fact, until this time of year.

16 December.

Elias had a similar view. Never had he met someone so rigid in his performance, so disciplined, yet so antsy. Must be the whole chaos of creativity, he thought. He recounted several incidences where he tried his hand at entertaining Marius, to no avail. Like things just didn't connect with him or tickle him the way Elias could achieve with others. But that didn't mean they lacked a connection at all - They were close, but where other people stood Marius was always one step further away, by his own accord. It was clear from the get go that the engineer liked to do things his way and per his agenda. Elias would grant him the favour of “breathing room” because he knew that although Marius held people at arms' length, beneath that eccentric exterior there was a shining heart of gold that cared deeply about the people he would shoo out of his workroom. Today was no exception, apparently.

"Hey, Marius--" There he was, ensconced in something technical of course, and drenched in fluorescent white light.

"No!"

"Huh--"

"Don't-- You can't look. Just...I'm busy. And I'm discussing this prototype of mine with the head of BMVg, whatever it is, it can wait."

Oops, Elias. "This isn't for prying eyes, it's commission work. I'll humour you later."

"Ah, err, got it. No peeking. Just don't work yourself to death and I'll check back in tonight. See ya!"

Yeah, this wasn't uncommon he muses, as he's met with a cold hand gesture towards the door. Though Elias couldn't help but wonder if maybe Marius was pushing himself even harder as to not think about the holidays. Dominic's relationship with him was different. Not as warm to the touch. And certainly more volatile, when tension arose. A clash of unorthodox personalities. They were polar opposites in one way, but fiercely empathetic in others, because pariahs stick together even when grating on each others' nerves - It was their non-conformity that made them a good team no matter how unconventional (and potentially troublesome) the dynamics. He knew how it was to be alone like the back of his hand. Maybe that too is the reason for their kinship, once all strain dissipated. Even he occasionally considered how his comrade handled the isolation; Dominic relished it to a degree, a darker mind who co-existed with his demons. But he knew Marius and he frequently observed his drive to form relationships only for them to fall flat or worse because of that same old disconnect Elias talked about on occasion. Never brought it up verbally but nothing could ghost Dominic's perusal. "Damn. Rejected again," Elias jests as he spots Dominic taking a break from playing grease monkey on his bike - Cigarette routinely positioned in mouth and garage wide open so that snow had begun collecting on the entrance floor. This wing was probably his safehaven, too.

"You should leave him to it." Dominic takes a long drag before expelling two plumes from his nose.

"Yeah I know, I know. Just seems wrong to not try. I don't think he's going home for Christmas. Hasn't heard from his Uncle for a couple of years...Not sure why. Marius tells me that's nothing out of the ordinary. Still, doesn't hurt to remind him we're around."

"He knows we're around. If you and Monika make a fuss it'll probably backfire."

"You could be right. But hey, buzzing in somebody’s ear is better than letting them feel ignored. I wouldn't be half as fun if I wasn't annoying."

"...Are you sure 'fun' is the right word?" Dominic concealed his smirk behind another toke.

"Whaaatever. Have a good night Brunsmeier. And don't get too cold old man! I don't know how you have the place all opened up on days like this. I don't want to come back tomorrow morning and find you in cryostasis."

"Uhuh. Well, snow chains. Fitting new ones on the tires and have to put 'em to the test somehow. See you, Smartass."

23 December.

The air was cold and dry and it permeated indoors but the serenity of snow blanketing everything for miles upon miles outweighed the chill in his lungs. Even the sun couldn’t thaw the ice nor interfere with celebrants having their white Christmas. From the moment he'd woken up that morning he rushed to get stuck back into his work without so much as cranking up the radiators. No matter the climate, it wouldn't deter him from his endeavours, much like Winter itself. As he fine-tuned his latest creation Marius felt overcome with accomplishment and relief knowing he had the rest of the day to spare after hours of trial and error. Fingers weaved and arms raised he stretched up high, taking a moment to admire the fully customised apparatus begging to be used. Fishing his phone out of a denim pocket he checked the time and grabbed one of the gift boxes wrapped neatly with a lavender bow. Monika would always make a point of going home to celebrate with her family - he'd heard many stories about her mother's Sauerbraten - and was always the first to leave to ensure she'd catch her flight. Ergo, her turn came first. His soles crunched against the virgin snow as Marius made his way to the dormitories. He could've forgotten the clean scent of fresh air or the sheer brightness the day can bring after spending a majority of his time hunkered down at the workroom. Cutting it close, he was fortunate enough to cross paths with Monika, luggage in her wake while punching in a numberpass for the electronic gate. "Monika!" He called out, waving her down.

"Hm?" Immediately she turned on her heel - Perhaps he startled her, or it was the (pleasant) surprise of hearing that familiar voice in another place other than his station or dorm.

"Monika, I'm glad I could catch you. Here--" Offering the palm sized box it was clear to the both of them that neither knew exactly how to handle the situation without underlying befuddlement. "--Frohe Weihnachten." (Merry Christmas). Ah yes, he'd forgotten that part. He wasn't well-versed in the act of gift giving - not face to face, at least...

"Really? For me?"

"Of course it is. It's purple. I don't know anybody else's favourite colour."

"I'm a little speechless...! Thank you Marius, and Frohe Weihnachten. I got something for you too, so did Elias. You were too busy we didn't think to disturb you and thought we'd leave them on your desk. You're welcome to pick them up yourself beneath the tree Emmanuelle and Yumiko set up in the foyer." Something akin to a glorified 'Secret Santa' Harry suggested for Team Rainbow to build on their camaraderie but appealed little to Dominic.

"Oh, that was unnecessary, but I'm grateful. Then I'm obliged to thank you as well. I didn't expect anything - I just wanted to see what I could come up with. I hope you like it."

"No act of benevolence is unnecessary. I'm tempted to open this up right here and now, I'm very curious. I'm going to show restraint however and open it tomorrow. I'll shoot you a message afterwards, OK?" She unzipped her case and placed it delicately atop folded clothes. Whatever it was, it seemed fragile, and would need the padding. "You take care of yourself Marius. Tschüss!" She passed through the gate and left with a smile.

24 December.

With more confidence after yesterday's exchange next in line was either Elias or Dominic, whoever he bumped into first. Today was bitterly cold and much darker, grey clouds hanging overhead almost as thick as the snow. Still, it was welcomed by those who enjoyed the seasonal comforts of lounging around; Vastly preferable to these scorching Summers in recent years, to Marius' admittance. He could spy from beyond his work station window that Dominic had the garage locked up early and was now dumping fodder to feed one of his burn barrel fires. To Marius, this had grown synonymous with Winter, and was a good way to gauge the severity of the weather - Dominic explained to him that it became habit from his undercover days, and was a quick & easy disposal method of...well, anything that could burn. Which sounded vaguely ominous with the way he put it, and there was no doubt in his mind that it absolutely was ominous. But that was then. He would ponder though, what his fellow operative saw in those flames. If he thought of an array of things and memories like a haunting myriad or maybe he just saw nothing more than a warming fire and burning magazines. It was hardly worth asking either, because he was scarcely linear, and seemed to quietly take pleasure in keeping people on their toes. An enigma for sure. They both were. Joining Dominic's side he could feel heat from the fire and the barrel itself as it raged on between them.

"You've been out here a while?" "An hour, maybe less." "Can't be too good for you. It's cold & flu season. If you're going to see your nephews and nieces, that's not wise." "I've dealt with worse." "Yes, that's true, I'm sure your lungs appreciate your pack-a-day fitness ritual." "If I smoked a pack a day, BPOL would give me the chop faster than any bad habits could on my life expectancy. Besides, I can still outrun you. Did you come here to give me health advice or was there something else?" "I know you well enough to know that giving you advice often goes unheeded." Much to my dismay. "So no, however--" He presents the red giftbox to Dominic, which he'd yet to acknowledge. Or he didn't care enough to ask. There's a visible confusion that reads in his otherwise stark expression - Like Monika's the day prior. Was it really so foreign for Marius to present his generosity this way? "Oh...?" "Open it, Dummkopf." Rather than muster some spur of the moment retort Dominic does as instructed. He settled the box in snow and crouched down to examine what awaited inside. "Pure silver electromagnetic rods. In a similar vein to an EMP device, rather, a preemptive attack on them and on your target. Think of them as an extension to your CEDs. Place them around in any formation you like to create an electromagnetic field; They will go live the moment your CEDs do. I've included a remote for functionality and to check that they're all within range of each other. The frequencies will be dizzying for enemy weaponry and at the touch of a button, shock anybody standing within the field's radius." Astounded, Dominic can only look down in disbelief at the device in his hands. It's one thing to fix up an old motorcycle, or even a car, but something of this calibre was truly belonging to a prodigious acumen. And that prodigy is Marius Streicher. "Oh, there's also armbands and a 'plate' you fit to the bottom of your footwear to absorb static and safeguard you from being on the receiving end of the electrogrid. That part should be a familiar concept." "..." "Well?" "I don't know how the hell you come up with this shit, but it's incredible." "Mmhmm. Of course it is, I made it. Brave of you to finally admit that." "Don't make me regret showing some gratitude. I mean it. Is this what you've been busying yourself with the whole month?" "Yeah, calculating pulse waveforms took more work than Monika's and Elias' upgrades, I readily accepted the challenge though." "You went to the trouble of making something for them too huh. Crazy." "I did yes. Monika's was no sweat. I pulled up the files on her RED Mk III and tweaked a few things. Utilising the same technology I fitted a lens-like screen to a headpiece, so the intel she needs is always in view, and her handling of weapons isn't compromised. I think she'll appreciate the purple tint I used for the lens. That, and it can also be used for her spelunking - The new and improved Spectre can see beyond solid walls several metres thick, and it can detect hollow spaces like tunnels. If she removes the chip and slots it into the drone I made for her - I'll reveal that part to her once she's back - she can apply the Spectre to airborne recon in the same way as the lens itself." "Now, you're showing off. She's going to use and abuse that thing every chance she gets." "Good. Then I won't have made it for nothing." "What about Elias, what did you give him?" "I haven't given him his yet which works out nicely." "I'm all ears, Brainiac." "Interesting moniker. Elias gets a conal radius motion & thermal detector that bolsters his ballistic shield. This will give him an increase in tactical advantage, by alerting him to whoever is in his vicinity. If there's an obstruction or he loses sight of the enemy he can find them with ease and make his move. Like Monika's, his can mimic the technology he's accustomed to and can also be detached and used with the specialised drone made for him. He'll be able to temporarily blind at range, or cause distraction, meaning if he keeps his wits about him he'll manage to play a part from long distances." Dominic spied something else in the box as Marius gave his run down on each of the devices. Brow furrowed he picks it up and examines it closely, unable to crack what purpose it served. "Hm. And this?" "That, is a personal touch. Call it whimsical but I think you'll like it. His drone is also yours." Shooting the engineer a bewildered glance Dominic held the second remote in hand, waiting expectantly to understand its significance and what exactly made it so 'whimsical'. "I had trouble coming up with a unique quality for each of you. You're both irreverent in your sense of humour, so I decided to play on that. Elias' drone also has a compartment where something, such as a flashbang for example, can be stored and dropped at command. I'll tell him about that. What I won't tell him however is that you have full access to the drone with that control you're holding. I'll leave it to your imagination to invent shenanigans of your own design. It ought to appease your prankster inclinations," Marius smiled knowingly, but only just - A sliver of the pride gathering in his center. Dominic's was blatant and devilish; Cogs turning in his mind already. But moreso this was a gift with meaning, and understanding to a level that excelled clinical intelligence. He had captured all three of them as operatives and as people, as friends, in the best way he knew how. Each gadget was far from mere machinery. Like polaroids immortalising their merits on the field and in life. "Don't expect to hear this out of me again anytime soon but you've outdone yourself." "Hah! It's worth the effort just to wring sincerity out of you, you ornery bastard." "Yeah, yeah, pot calling the kettle black. I know you're not a drinker but come on, show me how to use this thing over a pint - and bring the drone. I want to get Elias back for all his gaudy Christmas music in the dorms. I considered smothering him with his pillow, but this will suffice." He sneered, amused by his own facetiousness. "I know you don't have anything else planned so I'm not giving you much of a choice." After placing everything back in its box Dominic stood up to give his friend a gracious pat on the back. Marius noticed a glint in his eye he hadn't been privy to before - one unlike the dispassion that most would consider default to 'Bandit' - perhaps they were both seeing each other in a different light. An aspect they kept tucked away, save for rare junctures such as these. "Fine. I'll agree, considering the occasion. Might as well get into the spirit of things a little. Frohe Weihnachten, Dominic." "Frohe Weihnachten."

#siegemas #marius streicher #dominic brunsmeier #monika weiss #elias kötz #man do I get wordy #I enjoyed writing this and I think siegemas is a great idea #thanks for allowing me to be a part of it

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eleanorbloom · 4 years

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When You’re Ready Ch. 09

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warning: Angst? And Ethan kinda psyco 🤣

A/N: It took me ages to finish this chapter because, to me, the plot is kind of boring and it was made just for story progression (and I just couldn’t leave it behind nor reducing it to a paragraph for the next chapter), but I have to admit that with the adjustments that I made yesterday, it’s now pretty decent. Fortunately, next chapter is way more interesting.

A/N2: Special thanks to @aylamwrites for helping me with some of my writing/translation issues and for her advices. Gracias gurrrl 💜💜💜

Hope you enjoy it!

Taglist @utterlyinevitable @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations @laiba-the-person @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268 @aylamreads @binny1985 @romewritingshop @cinnamonspongecake

Let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist!

________________

Chapter 9. The Less I Know The Better.

Then I heard they slept together

Oh, the less I know the better.

Eleanor made her entrance into Edenbrook with confidence she never felt before. Not even last year, when she was starting the residency program of her dreams at Edenbrook, she had felt this proud of herself. It was her first day both as a second-year resident and as Junior Fellow Member in the Diagnostics Team, directed by her medical hero, Dr. Ethan Ramsey. And well, yes. The person she had feelings for.

But today was also the first day where she would leave all that in the past, to truly be over him. She would face him, talk to him, and make his presence something so usual in her life that after a few weeks he wouldn’t mean anything but a mentor, a colleague, and hopefully, one day, a friend. But not more than that.

She knew it would be difficult. The night before had been hard enough not falling into his spell again. Her lips were thirsty for his kisses, her skin aching for his touch and her mind only wanted to float into the sky of his eyes once more. But she wasn’t blind anymore. She knew it wouldn’t do her any good.

Bryce had opened her eyes. Even if Ethan had the most selfless intentions pulling away from her to not jeopardize her career, he had hurt her consciously. He had ignored her even when she was drowning. And what Bryce had done just in a few weeks? He treated her like the most precious thing in the world. Like a queen. In the way she always wanted to be treated by someone, but she thought it was just stupid ideas romantic love had put in her head. He had listened to her, respected her space, consoled her when she needed it, and even when she didn’t think she needed it. He had made her his priority. The less she could do at that moment was putting him as her priority over anything she might be feeling for Ethan.

And now, there she was, facing her first obstacle, standing outside the Department of Diagnostics. Big glass walls, and a sliding door before her. She took a deep breath and with a smile on her face entered as the doors slid softly to let her in.

The office was quiet and illuminated by the natural lighting of that summer morning. There was the faintest scent of bergamot and mandarin in the air, probably traces of Ethan’s perfume left early in the morning.

She observed the place taking short steps around. A big desk in front of the entry, a circular table on the right side with a big whiteboard behind…

“I’m here, I’m really here”

“Hey, me too.”

…And a couch between the table and the entry, where it was a man reclined, reading a medical journal.

A tanned man with tiny eyes and a grown beard stood up and approached her. He seemed familiar, but the big smile on her face made her think she might be wrong.

“Um, Zaid? You’re on the diagnostics team?”

“Ah, I take it you’re one of my twin brother’s residents.”—He answered extending his hand to the confused resident.—“Baz Mirani’s the name, immunology’s the game. Game-slash-specialty.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even know Zaid had a twin brother.”

After a few moments talking, her mind raced to the smirk Ethan had given her the night before. That’s why he didn’t want to talk about the team members. It wasn’t about bias, he just wanted to keep it a surprise the fact that Zaid Mirani had a super friendly twin brother that made them look the personification of the yin and yang in terms of niceness and well, in term of twins. While Zaid was King of Sarcasm, Baz had no ability to perceive it. While Zaid was grumpy and serious, Baz was amicable and talkative.

Then it was the time to meet the last member of the team, June Hirata. June was a very intense-looking woman with a British accent and a self-assurance that exuded from her pores.

Eleanor felt a little intimidated by the way the attending was scrutinizing her, but she thought it was normal for a neurologist and psychologist to examine a new colleague not only on a physical level but in terms of corporal language too, just like she was doing it.

After a few minutes of chatting with her new colleagues, Ethan appeared through the sliding doors.

“Introductions done? Great. We’ve got work to do”—He said, while the three took a seat in the table.

She couldn’t help but feel a little twist of nervousness inside her stomach, but she tried hard to suppress any emotions she might feel, and just focused on trying to be just as stoic as her mentor always appears. She put her best professional face and started to observe how the team worked and took notes of all the things they were saying.

June and Baz started asking questions to Ethan, who had all the information about the new patient. Eleanor remained silent, witnessing the exchange, trying to absorb all the information possible. She was a bit intimidated because that level of confidence and questioning was really out of her league, but she tried to convince herself that it was a normal response for a first day.

The team divagated through some symptoms, theories, and diseases until June gave the final idea: Cutaneous Kikuchi disease. With that, Ethan asked her to run a biopsy on the patient's rash to confirm the diagnosis.

Once the team was dismissed, both attendings returned to their other duties, leaving Eleanor and Ethan alone.

“After you’re done with our patient, you can see Ines and Zaid for further assignments.”—He said as he was taking a seat by his desk—"You’ll be balancing your work here with your usual resident duties. Now that you’re a second-year, that will include rotations at the free clinic.”

“Yes Dr. Ramsey”— She replied standing up from the chair—“We will always diagnose patients without seeing them?”

“No, but we’re often asked for help by hospitals all over the country, so it’s a good habit to keep our blind diagnosis skills sharp.”

Eleanor was about to reach the door when she stops in her tracks, hesitating.

“Is everything alright, Eleanor?”

“Actually, could we talk?”

Ethan gazed at her for a few moments before answering.

“About the job or about us?”

“The job. That’s why we are here.”—Eleanor replied with obviousness, but it sounded harsher than she intended. As if it would never cross her mind talking about them.

His eyes betrayed him for a split of a second as he addressed the coldness in her response, but then he just got up from his desk and moved to the circular table. Eleanor sat beside him a moment later.

“I’m all yours”

She couldn't help but shook her head to herself, not missing the ulterior motives in Ethan’s words for the second time straight.

“I’m just surprised how well and how quickly you worked that out. How are you sure you made the right diagnosis?”

Ethan took his time to explain to Eleanor how the team proceeded, the normal way they work, and gave her some tips to be more involved next time. He assured her that it was normal that the first days she would be feeling lost and ignorant, but once she started to obtain more knowledge from medical journals and research, she would improve her involvement in the team.

She nodded at every advice, and when he was done, she kept staring at him inquisitively.

“What is it?”

“Your glasses, I’m not used to see you with those on.”

“Oh, yes. I use them when I work on the computer. Now that you’ll come to the office frequently, you’ll see me a lot like this.”

“They make you look smart”—She teased, trying to diffuse the tension she still sensed on Ethan after her cold response.

“You've caught me. The illusion behind my status. Without these, I’m a simpering moron.”

That seemed to relax his shoulders a bit. They both laughed for the first time without the tension of their actual status, where recriminations wouldn’t be involved this time. Her eyes shined, happy for sharing that moment after so much discomfort.

“So, Zaid had a twin brother and you dared to not tell me.”

Ethan chuckled

“I wish I was there when you saw him for the first time. I can only imagine your face.”

“Haha, very funny. You’re such a trickster, Ethan.”

They had lean close to each other without noticing, their knees touching, and his fingers just an inch away from hers. Her composure stiffed, her will power was once again being challenged.

She couldn’t give in. She had to keep playing the cold Eleanor that didn’t feel a thing about his mentor.

She swallowed hard.

“Well, I should get those test run.”—She informed, taking the notebook in her hand, and then standing up in one swift motion—"Thank you for your advice, Ethan.”

“You’re welcome, Eleanor. Anytime.”—He responded, caught off guard by the abruptness of her reaction.

Eleanor left the office quickly, sensing how his eyes were following her as she passed through the door. She released the breath that had been holding a few steps away from the office.

She had made it.

The interactions during the day weren’t any different. She ran the tests, informed her discoveries to the team (with the help of her intern, Esme Ortega), and then she made quite an impression with the Governor by diagnosing her son was sick; which granted her an invitation to have dinner with Naveen, Harper, Ethan, the Governor, and her staff that night. She had become the best card Edenbrook had to secure important funds to keep the hospital afloat.

After dropping Harper home after the dinner, Eleanor couldn’t suppress the memories of the last time she was alone with him in that car. The night before he left. The night of their last kiss, of the last time they made love. The last time they consciously and voluntarily stared at each other as lovers.

She was in the exact same place where everything had ended and after two months it still hurt.

Eleanor turned to her left, wondering if Ethan might be thinking the same, but his face was serious, without traces of knitted brows or troubled eyes. The streetlights were framing his features in different shapes as the car moved down the streets. She fixated her eyes in his grown beard, which still felt a bit odd to her, but to some extent, it would be useful as a fresh start. He wasn’t the Ethan she knew and wanted. He was the Ethan that left for two months to start over and be the boss and colleague she needed.

Then she looked away, coming back into her senses. She clenched the silk material of her pine dress in her fists until her knuckles were white

“What. Are. You. Doing?” —She asked herself, pressing her fists into her knees harder at every word she said on her mind.

The car stopped before the red traffic lights and she felt Ethan was turning to her, staring.

“Don’t look at him. Don’t.”—She ordered in her head, her composure tensing even more.

But after a few moments, she gives up.

Amber connects with the sky and the earth stopped spinning. She was so lost in him that didn’t notice he had brought his right hand to hers, taking it gently.

“We’ll be okay.”

His thumb caressed the knuckle of her middle finger, and that’s what it took to feel a shiver down her spine. He knew what she was thinking. He was touching her. No. It wasn’t anything. It didn’t mean anything.

She had to look away, but if the first time had been hard, now it would be impossible while he was staring at her. She couldn’t just look away. She wasn’t that brave, at least for now.

From the corner of her eye, she perceived a change in the lights. Her way out.

“It’s… It’s green now”—She said in a tiny voice, his eyes desperate for a moment.

Ethan glanced back to the street, clearing his throat. The air returned to her lungs.

He drove the rest journey in complete silence and he barely looked at her when she got off the car outside her apartment.

“Thanks for the ride Ethan, see you tomorrow”

“Goodnight, Eleanor.”

She had made it again.

The next day, Ethan and Naveen were sharing their remarks about the dinner the night before when they spotted Eleanor, Bryce, and Sienna entering the hospital after their lunch break. Ethan tried to avoid looking at her, not wanting to expose his mixed feelings about her in front of Naveen, but the old had mastered at reading him after so many years.

“Rumors says Dr. Bloom has been doing good these past weeks”—Naveen said as he finds Ethan following her, reluctantly.

“Mmmh?”

“In the company of a surgical resident”

“You mean with that scalpel jockey?”—He inquired, pointing out the resident who was walking beside Eleanor with a brief motion of his head.

“Yes, precisely”

“I doubt it. They are just friends. Besides, I don’t think she’d like someone like him.”

Naveen didn’t miss the bitterness in his last words.

“What do you mean? Just because he is a surgeon?”

“Yes. He is arrogant and shallow.”

“Shallow? To me is quite interesting. I’ve heard plenty of praises from Harper. Very promising, bold, intelligent, and ahead of most of his fellow second-year residents, even some third-years.”

“Hmmm, well, the point is I don’t think Bloom would have that bad taste dating a jock like him.”

“Well, they have been seen pretty cozy. I, personally, have seen them while having lunch or going t-.”

“I’ve seen them too.”—Ethan interrupted—"You say cozy, I would say he’s a harasser who likes to touch women, that’s why he might have his hands all over Eleanor. I don’t know why she lets him.”

“Am I sensing jealousy in your tone, my friend?”

“Jealousy? For Christ’s sake Naveen. Why would I be jealous of a scalpel jockey? And there’s nothing between Eleanor and me to have the right to feel jealous.”

Naveen chuckled.

“Whatever you say, my friend. But to me, they make a nice couple, she looks very happy around him.”—The Chief commented with a smirk full of malice, waiting for his reaction.

“Of course she’s happy around him, he acts like a goddamn clown all the time.”

Ethan turned around and left with his head steaming with anger.

He didn’t believe Naveen’s words. He didn't want to believe his words. He was convinced that Bryce and Eleanor were just friends, or maybe they were having a fling as all resident do, but nothing more than that.

But he couldn’t ignore such information much longer and against all his self-control and dignity, he started paying attention to her interactions with the surgical resident. However, at first, he didn’t find anything extraordinary. They would have lunch with her roommates as usual, hang out at Donahue’s like always, and chat through the hallways of the hospital as all colleagues do. Maybe Bryce acted flirtily and a bit handsy with her, but it wasn’t different from what he has always been with her.

The idea of them having a fling made him feel a pit in his stomach, but at the same time, it relieved him that it was just that. She was sleeping with Lahela so she could to move on. And he couldn’t blame her. But a relationship? Love? With that jock? That was beyond his comprehension.

While he was observing him, Ethan wondered what Eleanor would see in him. He had listened, without no other option, that many residents, even nurses, found him very attractive— ‘hot” was the most used word in fact—, while other residents, mostly men, would say he was cocky and arrogant, but Ethan was sure that even when he agreed he had a cocky way to conduct himself all over the hospital—all over the world— he wasn’t arrogant without fundaments.

He indeed was an outstanding surgical resident, he had heard many praises from Harper the last few months, so he just knew his worth and how to use it, and Ethan couldn’t condemn him for that. And if he was honest about it, he also had to be honest about the fact that he was an outstanding doctor too. He was always kind and nice to patients, always on time to prep them for surgeries, and always had the time and patience to explain for the umpteenth time how would be the procedure to any patient or family who would ask to him. And that was actually an important trait. That said, Bryce Lahela wasn’t so despicable after all, but he was a scalpel jockey and probably was sleeping with Eleanor, and that was enough to Ethan to despise him.

A few days later, th attending was accompanying a patient before her heart valve replacement when Bryce came into the room to prepare her for the surgery.

“Good morning Mrs. Montero, how are you today?”—He greeted in a joyful voice and then he nodded to the attending—"Dr. Ramsey”

“Dr. Lahela”

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared.”

“You have nothing to be scared for.”—He assured—"Dr. Tanaka is the best doctor you could have to repair anything that involves your heart, so everything will be fine.”

“That means he could fix how broke my heart is after my husband passed away?”

Bryce stared at her with a sad smile.

“I’m afraid not. But with the new valve, you’ll get plenty of years to make new memories and adventures, so you’ll have enjoyed your time to the fullest before you left this earth to be with him."

“I like the sound of that.”

“I’m sure you do. And let me say you that you will have the best resident by his side too, so you'll be in the best hands Edenbrook can provide.—Bryce winked warmly at her.

Ethan suppressed a scoff at his words and stood up from his chair.

“I believe you, my boy.”

And then Bryce grinned. A broad smile with his nose wrinkled paralyzed Ethan in his tracks for a second.

The same grin Eleanor had done that night at Donahue’s and that he had found odd and new in Eleanor, but for some reason, it was familiar.

And it was familiar because he had seen it in Bryce Lahela many times when he prepared patients for surgery. That sincere and knowing smile.

“Dr. Ramsey, thank you so much for your company.”

“You’re welcome, Elena. You’ll be in good hands now. I’ll come to see you when you have your new valve, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Lahela”—He nodded before leaving the room with his head racing incessantly.

He had read a while ago that expressions are contagious between people, even at the moment they are displayed, as a show of empathy and to recognize other people’s feelings. He did know too that couples after some time would imitate their expressions and laughs. But it also could happen with friends, family, and whoever you share a place to live with.

Maybe it was normal and Eleanor not only had expressions from Bryce but also from Sienna, Jackie, and Elijah, as they would see each other throughout the day and they shared an apartment.

But there was another option that could explain the fact that Eleanor had acquired a smile from Bryce. But he was so in denial that he didn’t even want to put it into words.

That realization changed everything in Ethan. His focus was now on Eleanor. On study how different she was compared to the months before he left. And in their daily meetings or just in their encounters through hallways of the hospital, he found that she was again the same happy and sweet resident he had met last year, with a calm demeanor, her sunny smile, and firm disposition to help whoever needed it. But he also noticed that this 'start over' between them had been taken seriously by her. She was completely focused on the work and never talked about anything that wasn’t work-related with him, and he never found her looking for his eyes or his touch like she used to, but he could tell she used to grow anxious when she had to be alone with him in the office.

A few days later, Eleanor found Bryce, Rafael, and Ethan on their way to their morning gym session so she joined them in a heartbeat. When she got into the room with her workout clothes on, the three buddies were in the treadmill warming up. She went to the fourth machine and started to run beside Rafael.

“What made you want to workout with us this morning, Ellie?”—He asked

“I always try to find a moment to make any physical activity but I hadn’t had the chance these few last days so I’m taking the chance now. I want to stay healthy,”

“That's a very good reason. The body is a machine. When it goes without use, it rusts.”—Ethan conceded, at the other side of the room, in the first treadmill.

“Don’t think that’s medically accurate, Doc”—Bryce pointed out, running between Ethan and Rafael.

“I know surgeons don’t know how to read a book, but that’s called a ‘metaphor’”—Retorted Ethan. Even if there was a teasing smile on his face, the bitterness of his words was evident to everyone in the room.

“Geez, I’ll tell Jackie to send you an invitation to the hate group for scalpel jockeys, Ramsey. You would love it”—He said, not missing a bit, his confidence not even remotely shaken.

Ethan observed Eleanor, whose smile had fainted with disappointment. After a few seconds, as she observed Bryce was smiling as usual, she quickly shook it off and ignored the attending for the rest of the routine.

Ethan knew there was something there and just the fact that he might confirm the rumors made him angry. At himself and at Naveen. Why he had to tell him? It would have been so much better not to know what Eleanor was doing with her life. It was not his business and he had no right to snoop into her life like he had been doing these few weeks.

---

The unusual bitter comment the attending had said to Bryce, made Eleanor sense that maybe he was suspecting about her relationship with the surgical resident. The multiples times she caught him observing her in her lunchtime, at Donahue’s, and anywhere he would spot her with Bryce were making sense now.

Maybe there were rumors. Maybe Naveen had told him, he surely knew every gossip in the hospital—not just because he was the Chief, but because he liked hospital gossip—, and of course he would deliver this information to Ethan to wake him up. The old man had always been pretty honest about his support toward Ethan and her.

Or maybe he just knew. He just figured it out because of her coldness towards him and because even if she and Bryce tried to keep it lowkey, there was always the chance that he could have caught them the times theye couldn’t help but holding hands or kissing when they were close.

Either way, she didn’t care.

At least not as much as she cared the day before he was back, but now she felt relieved that Ethan might have some clues of her situation. She still didn’t want to confirm it, she wanted to know if he was bold enough, if it affected him hard enough to approach her and ask her about her relationship status.

But she knew him. Ethan was never a man of facing emotions or tough conversations. He was a master at avoiding feelings and people and maybe he would wait for something or someone who would confirm the rumors. The problem was if he was emotionally prepared for that moment.

______

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #bryce x casey #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan x casey #ethan x f!mc #open heart #open heart choices #choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #oh choices #Oh fanfic #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction #fanfic

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ashcrimson-is-writing · 4 years

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One smokey morning (Loki x Reader ~ requested)

Based on a request: @raven-rust “Could you write me a fluffy/smutty fic w Loki it´s my birthday :)” I´m terribly sorry I just now had the time to write for your request, but since I officially graduated from high school yesterday I was quite busy. Apparently it also turned out more fluff than smut at all. But nonetheless I hope you'll enjoy it and that you had a wonderful birthday! ^^ So take this oneshot as a late birthday present and thanks for requesting something from me :)

Fandom: Marvel Pairing: Loki x Reader Genre: Fluff, (maybe a little bit of Angst, but not really actually) Words: 1600

Loki was able to be a quiet roommate.

Even though he had been living in an apartment with you for almost a year now, he still had problems understanding Midgards technology and mindset from time to time, but he was always very careful to let you sleep in on weekends. Especially since he was an early bird and you absolutely were not. This meant that he would not wake you up, neither on purpose nor by accident, and as much as Loki would sometimes scold about the midgardian way of life or break a kitchen appliance while trying to get it to work, he still managed to be so quiet on a weekend morning that you didn't hear a single, not even a tiny sound from him, until you practically gave him permission to make sounds again with a "good morning" from your mouth. Therefore it was all the more surprising when you were awakened on this Saturday morning by a loud clattering and subsequent cursing, which echoed through the walls and reached you in a muffled state. Sighing, you opened your eyes and blinked against the bright light. The sun was shining warmly through the windows into your bedroom, directly onto the mattress and made the room almost glow golden, as it did most days of summer. It was a beautiful effect, and sometimes, when Loki had been having a restless sleep and decided to stay in bed with you for a little longer, you could watch him staring at the ceiling a bit absent-minded, as if the golden light was awakening bittersweet memories in him. But he never told you what was truly on his mind in those moments.

When he noticed that you had woken up, he would simply put an arm around you and answer your question, what he was thinking about, with, "Just about how lucky I am to be here. With you". And you accepted this answer, because you knew that one day he would be ready to tell you about it.

This morning, however, he had already got up and when you put one hand on the empty side of the bed and found no warmth at all, you also knew that it must have been some time ago. With a yawn, you sat up and took a quick look to the side. It was half past nine and the more awake you became, the more you noticed a second unusual thing. It smelled like something had been burned and after you got up and opened the door to the hallway, you were sure that the smell came from the kitchen. Already quite sure Loki had done something, you quietly closed the door behind you and then carefully walked into the kitchen where smoke was coming from. And in fact, you discovered soon that the smoke came from a coal-black something standing on the stove in a baking form, which was probably meant to be a cake, but now looked more like charcoal. The window was already opened, so Loki had probably thought of the smoke detector, which fortunately was not in the kitchen but in the living room and probably wouldn't go off if the smoke disappeared from the window in time. And also: the table was partly covered with flour and was full of other stuff that had probably been used for the 'cake'. Definitely Lokis work. The god himself stood a little lost in the middle of the room, looking at the chaos with hands folded behind his back, as if it was a crime scene he had to inspect and which definitely wasn't his fault. But when you came in and questioningly said his name, he flinched a bit, turned to you: "Y/N!" and a guilty expression finally came over his face as he let his gaze wander through the kitchen one more time before looking back at you. For a moment he seemed a little helpless, then he breathed out and an somewhat apologetic smile appeared: "I baked you a cake". Looking once more at the burnt dough, it occurred to you what day it was today. It was your birthday. For the moment you had completely forgotten that because of the unusual way you had been waked up . But yes, it was your birthday indeed. And Loki had baked you a cake. Slowly you began to smile crookedly and raised one eyebrow at him. "I guess it just didn't turn out as perfect as I thought it would. But I would like to point out that it is not my fault that Midgardian machines are so imprecise". Baking such a burnt cake certainly had nothing to do with imprecision, but much more with absolute incompetence in the baking field, but you kept your mouth shut about that. At least he had tried to make you a cake for your birthday and it was the will that counted and the fact that you didn´t even really had expected him to actually do something for your birthday, he had never done before. So you continued to smile, touched by the seldom seen sweet side of him, as you walked to the stove, Loki stepping behind you and looking over your shoulder: "You probably won't eat it anymore, I suppose". "No."

Though Loki barely pulled a face, you could see his contrition and gently put your arms around his waist as you turned to him: "But I'm glad you at least tried. And for baking a cake for the first time, it's not so bad... just a little burned." Loki snorted at 'a little'. "We could bake a new cake together," you suggested then, and he remained silent for a moment, weighing the fact that he thought he should bake a cake for you alone, because it was your birthday after all, and the fact that he wasn't sure he could do it properly on his own. Sighing he agreed eventually: " Well, fine, yes. Let's make one together".

Smiling you left his side and went over to the table where you sat down on one of the chairs: “Alright then, get us a bowl and we will make a new cake. Properly this time”.

As it turned out, you were actually kind of lucky that the first cake was completely burnt, because Loki didn't know what and how much of it belonged in the dough either. If you hadn't told him, he would have at least forgotten the sugar and the eggs, and it was probably better that you didn't have to taste his selfmade cake, considering that he had probably forgotten some important ingredients in it. He obviously became more and more frustrated the more mistakes he made, but he stayed calm and followed your instructions, probably mainly because it was your birthday and after a few minutes a bowl of new dough was on the table in front of you. "Now we just need a baking tin" you said as you stood up and went over to the burnt cake, which had cooled down quite a bit by now, making it somewhat easy to get it out of the container. With a soft sound you put the metal baking tin in front of Loki, who then carefully filled the dough into it and walked to the oven with you. You put the new cake into the stove then, closed the flap and looked at Loki: "Okay watch ": before you showed him with which button he could adjust what and which setting was best for the cake. "And now all we have to do is wait until it's ready" with a slight jump you sat down on the kitchen counter next to the stove: "About 50 minutes long". Loki stood in front of you and placed his narrow hands at your sides, murmuring with a little annoyed tone: "That's quite some time, isn´t it?". "Yeah probably" you nodded with a grin: "In fact I'm very sure though that you waited much longer for the other cake. And also: What's 50 minutes to someone who lives to be thousands of years old?". Of course you said it only jokingly and yet a lump formed in Loki's throat for a second. He preferred not to spend his time thinking that yours would be much shorter than his own. And precisely because you would only be with him for a limited period of his life, 50 minutes might even felt longer to him than to you. Or at least that's what he wished. Because even though you both liked to joke about it, 50 minutes were as precious to him as they were to you. Loki didn´t even knew how he would ever be able to live without you. But he wasn't supposed to think about that. Especially not today. Especially not yet.

He reminded himself that he had to live in the very present moments for now, instead of thinking of the future. Turning his gaze from his slightly trembling hands to your loving eyes, he also put a happy smile on his face and gently pulled you a little closer while you laid your fingers on his shoulders and traced small patterns. Deeply exhaling, he moved one hand under your top and up your bare back, making you shudder: "Happy birthday Y/N". Gently he placed his lips on yours and you moved your fingers from his shoulders up to his jaw, tenderly caressing his soft cheeks with a gentle sigh of contentment that created a warm feeling of belonging in Loki. Oh, he could only hope that there would be many, many more days like this and that 50 minutes would never feel short to him. Because right now, most of the hopes he had, came somehow from within you.

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jarienn972 · 4 years

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La Sirena - Chapter Three

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer

My intent had been to post this latest chapter update for @cssns yesterday, but neither Tumblr nor my internet at home wanted to cooperate so Chapter Three was a little bit delayed. I decided with this chapter to jump a few days ahead so that Killian was partially recuperated and able to start exploring his new surroundings. He’s discovered that his “angel” is a mysterious, lonely woman who has been stranded on this stretch of shore for a very long time and he wants to learn more about her. Will he get more than he bargained for though?

I have to say thanks again to @courtorderedcake for her beautiful artwork featured here and to @kmomof4 for being an amazing beta reader!

The first two chapters can be found on AO3 and FF.net or here: One Two

Chapter Three: A Glimpse of the Unknown

By the third sunrise since arriving on this distant cove, Killian was at last feeling recuperated enough to venture beyond the protected thicket. He'd been gratefully accepting Emma's offered sustenance and had enjoyed the few, brief conversations they'd shared. The fruits she'd brought had served to nourish his weakened body, especially after a week or so subsisting on the unidentifiable gruel the pirates had shoved at him. More so, her pleasant words may have been few, but they had helped ease his troubled mind and he hoped to entice her into talking more now that he had recovered enough to carry on an intelligent discourse.

What had brought her here to such a seemingly lonely place? Was she truly alone here or were there others living nearby? He had no inkling whether she'd answer him, but with little else to do, he'd relish the challenge.

For now, he was anxious to stretch his legs and discover a bit more of the isle he'd landed upon. Using a nearby palm tree stump to aid in keeping his balance, Killian found his footing and pushed himself fully upright for the first time since he'd escaped the doomed pirate ship. He'd crawled about the clearing as needed and he'd of course been able to sit cross-legged in the sand to eat, but standing suddenly felt foreign. His legs protested the exertion, although not nearly as much as his throbbing head. He had to pause for a few seconds to allow the dizziness to pass, but he pressed forward despite the realization that he'd likely underestimated the severity of the blow he'd taken from the ship's rigging.

It was also at this moment that it dawned on him what a fright he must look. His uniform had been torn to shreds in battle, made worse during his imprisonment, and now hung in tatters on his gaunt form. The relentless waves had shredded the fabric even further but had barely touched the dark stains. His current state was completely unbecoming of an officer but he was a long way from a tailor so he'd have to make due. He was determined to do one thing to improve his outward appearance - bathe. He'd not bathed properly since he'd departed Liam's ship nor had he shaved. His chin itched of several days' growth of whiskers and he found himself idly wondering if his lovely companion might have soap or better yet - a straight razor - in her possession.

Taking each step slowly and deliberately, he followed a narrow, well-trodden path through the patch of cycads, emerging onto a pristine expanse of shoreline. The sand squishing between and beneath his toes was warm, but not uncomfortable as he trudged toward the water's edge. He'd not yet seen Emma this morning. Perhaps he'd risen before her? He was tempted to turn back towards the rocks and search for her, but he knew she'd come find him in time. Right now, he was eager to wade into the crystal clear bay that stretched out before him as far as the eye could see and allow the seawater to wash away the grime and ease the aches in his joints.

And if the fair maiden wasn't around to see him, he could shed his torn, bloodstained linen shirt and the stiff, uncomfortable wool uniform trousers. A least for a few minutes…

The scratchy trousers were the first to go, followed quickly by his shirt. He'd not even bothered undoing all of the buttons as several were already missing. By the time he reached the water, he'd left a trail of clothing behind but as long as he was still alone on the beach, his dignity remained intact.

He waded into the surf, noting that the shallows extended only a short distance from the shore before dropping into unknown depths. At least the waves were calm as they broke against his legs. He dared only to venture in waist deep, not prepared to test his swimming ability so soon lest Emma need to rescue him again. As he bent his knees to lower his torso into the cool, salty water, he watched the little fish darting around. He cupped water in his open palms and splashed it onto his face, careful to avoid the gash on his forehead as he scrubbed away layers of grime. His wound still stung enough without introducing more saltwater to it.

He wasn't normally a contemplative person but even he had to recognize how recent events had altered his perspective. For days in captivity, he'd had nothing but time to think about those he'd failed. His crew. His brother. Himself. Maybe he lacked the necessary skills to be a proper leader. He'd sailed his crew into certain death and yet, here he was - left to wallow in guilt. Liam would have fought harder. He wouldn't have allowed his crew to be taken prisoner.

And yet Liam was the one who'd given the order to scout the uncharted island. The order had come from him. He was the Captain. Liam had imparted this fate upon them with his order…

Killian squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head, willing himself to banish those thoughts. No, Liam was a good captain. He would never knowingly endanger his crew, especially not with his younger brother leading the expedition. It had been an unfortunate series of events that Killian alone had survived to lament. Fortune had intervened and spared his life, bringing him here to another uncharted, idyllic locale. The cove and its beguiling inhabitant were both ripe with beauty and intrigue.

At some point, his senses became aware that he was no longer alone. He didn't know how long she'd been watching him but he couldn't halt the flush of embarrassment from darkening his cheeks as he splashed an abrupt about-face in the water.

"Apologies," she shouted from the shore. "I didn't intend to startle you."

"'Tis alright," he replied, stupidly arguing with himself as to whether he should cover himself.

"I followed your trail from the grove," she began, waving an arm in the direction of his discarded clothing littering the beach. "If I had known you wished to bathe, I would have recommended the spring-fed pool inside the cavern as being more preferable…"

He chuckled to himself as he gave his head a little shake. Of course, it would have been… "I'll remember that for future reference."

"I am pleased to see that you're feeling stronger today," she smiled while a breezy tradewind fluttered the hem of her tunic, giving him a glimpse of her pale but enticingly shapely legs.

"Yes," he gulped, suddenly even more aware of his current state of undress. "I am feeling much better this morning…"

"That is wonderful. I've refilled the carafe for you back at the grove and brought you some fresh fruit. Is there anything else you might need?"

"You wouldn't happen to know where a man might get some new clothing and perhaps a straight razor around these parts? Is there a town or village nearby where I might find such things? My former uniform is rather an unacceptable mess at the present."

"I'm afraid that the nearest place you'd call a village is more than a day's trek up the peninsula from here and it's certainly not a place where you'd find such goods."

"Ah, pity. We truly are quite isolated here, are we not?"

"Afraid so, but you might be surprised by what this bountiful cove can provide. I believe I may be able to locate some clothing for you and perhaps some personal implements as well. Come join me in the cavern and we can take a look?"

"Ehh…," he stammered, blushing an even deeper shade of crimson. He'd not thought of himself as a prudish person but he was far from a brash braggart who would dare reveal his nudity to an innocent maiden yet. "That sounds like a wonderful idea…"

She seemed a tad confused when he didn't exit the water but after a moment, she understood his hesitation. "Ah - I am truly sorry… I have had little need for modesty in my solitude. I'll leave you be and meet you back beneath the trees in a few minutes."

"Much appreciated," he responded as she turned toward the swaying palms, all the time hearing the ghostly echo of Liam's laughter ringing in his ears.

**********

After ensuring that the coast was clear of prying eyes, Killian padded self-consciously out of the sea. He collected the remnants of his threadbare shirt and used it to give himself a precursory drying off as he fetched his trousers. He would have preferred to burn them rather than don them yet again, but with no other option for clothing presently available, he'd have to suffer and make due. He didn't have the foggiest notion of what Emma had meant when she spoke of the provisions of this bountiful cove, but he had to trust her. He was the outsider here and even though he still knew little about her, he doubted she would have mentioned anything if she couldn't be of assistance.

He chose not to bother putting what remained of his shirt back on as he followed her footprints back into the cycad grove where he'd spent nearly every waking moment since being marooned on this shore. The canopy had provided shade and shelter to him, although he was thankful the skies had been fair. He'd spent the past decade and a half aboard various ships, his leave in port usually brief so this was an unfamiliar experience for the seasoned mariner.

Not necessarily an unpleasant one though, he thought to himself as he arrived to find Emma kneeling in the sand, splitting apart a fig. She silently offered him one half as she bit into the other. Killian accepted it with a nod, popping it into his mouth before realizing she was staring at him with her intense green eyes.

"Have I done something wrong?" he queried with a furrowed brow, concerned he had offended his host with either his actions or his partially clothed form.

"No, no…" she assured him, averting her eyes with a hint of shame. "I was just admiring your pelt…" Her face scrunched in disgust at her errant choice of words. "No, that's not the right word…" She shook her head, trying desperately to come up with the proper term as Killian looked on in confused amusement. "I was drawn to the dark hair that covers your limbs and your torso… The males of my people, they simply do not possess body hair in such patterns."

"Your people don't have body hair?" he asked, incredulously, lifting a curious eyebrow as he wondered how they'd gotten to this conversation.

"Not to the extent of yours… They are able to grow facial hair but only fine, pale hairs adorn their bodies…" Her attempt to explain what she meant only began to exacerbate her awkwardness. "A thick coat of fur is not needed for warmth in our land so I have never seen anyone with such an impressive display of hair…"

"Well, it isn't really for warmth where I come from either. I inherited it from my grandfather, I believe…," he realized he was blushing while he rambled on, suddenly wishing he had something to cover his bare chest.

"Please - do not be embarrassed. I had no intention of shaming you and I should not have been staring - it's not polite - but it has been a very long time since I've been this close to anyone."

"How long?" he caught himself asking, cringing immediately as he blurted out the insensitive question. "Forgive me, please. That wasn't proper for me to be asking."

"It's no matter. We've both made our blunders, have we not?" She mused with a shy grin, the first time he'd truly noticed her smile. It was only visible for a split-second as she abruptly changed the subject, reverting back to her stoic front. "You should come with me to the cavern now. I believe you shall find some of what you seek there."

"Inside the cave?" There was a heavy dose of disbelief in his voice. What on earth would be inside that cavern that would be of use to him?

"Please, just follow me. You will see."

He might have still been skeptical but he was also of the opinion that if a beautiful woman asked you to follow her, you followed her. He'd be damned if he wasn't going to do as requested.

The mouth of the cavern was deeply recessed into the jagged outcrop, making it virtually invisible from the bay. It was dark and uninviting but as they made their way over the ridge and passed into the void, Killian was pleasantly surprised to learn that the interior was relatively well illuminated. Streams of sunlight filtered in through cracks in the cavern's ceiling and he also recognized the acrid scent of smoke lingering in the tempered air, likely residue from the series of torches and lanterns lining the rock walls that Emma used to navigate the tunnels.

With Emma leading the way, they rounded a shadowy corner in a dim passageway that became ablaze with light as they neared. Emma was only a few steps ahead of him, but suddenly there were torches roaring to life. He'd not seen her stop to light the flames, but he shook it off as a trick of his weary head. His injury must be toying with his imagination.

The chamber they'd now entered was clearly Emma's living quarters and Killian swallowed back a swell of unease at invading her private dwelling, although she didn't appear fazed. He noted its simple furnishings as they passed, this not being her intended destination. Tucked away in an alcove, he saw only a mattress fashioned from woven raffia grasses and a series of colorful ceramic carafes like those she'd used to bring water to him. She seemed to have little need for creature comforts or material goods, so different from the women he'd encountered in various ports around the realm.

"Just a bit further," she stated, drawing his attention away from her dwelling and back to the passage. He noted the trickle of water off in the distance, likely a stream or brook formed from the spring she'd mentioned earlier. They pressed forward into another chamber that again seemed to illuminate as they drew closer. The experience was a tad disconcerting to Killian but he was determined to keep his mouth shut - at least until his jaw fell slack by the revelation of stunning wonders all around him.

The narrow corridor weaving through the rock opened into a broad, expansive subterranean room, awash in brilliance from its own natural skylight which opened directly above a sparkling pool. Faint tendrils of steam arose from the surface. This must be the spring Emma had recommended for bathing and it looked incredibly inviting.

"This is the spring you spoke of earlier?" he queried.

"One of them. This is the mineral hot spring. There is also a cool, sweet water spring around the bend. It feeds into this pool as well as one deeper into the cavern," she advised.

"This cavern… I've seen others similar on my many adventures. It's an old lava tube, is it not?"

"Very astute and yes, this entire cove was formed by an ancient lava flow."

"It is quite a lovely place and I see now many of its provisions, but I still fail to see what assistance this is to be for me…"

"It was not the cavern itself that I was referring to. This happens to be where I have stored some unusual items that originated in your world."

"My world?" he asked, confused as she lowered herself to her knees and lit a lantern conveniently sitting at her feet. When she raised the lamp, he could now make out the objects she'd been so cryptically taunting him with - four large marine chests in varying states of decay.

"Are these not from your world?" She brought the lantern closer to the nearest chest. It was covered in faded, cracked leather and decorated with ornate brass fittings and latches that were marred with heavy patina. He surmised that there was once a matching padlock that was lost to time but there was no evidence that it had been removed by force. The whole thing had seen better days, bearing extensive visible water damage. Depending on how well it had been constructed and the quality of the leather casing, it could potentially still be watertight. "I find these washed up on the shore from time to time."

"They appear to be merchant chests, used for transporting goods. We had many like these on my ship, although these appear to be much older."

"I assume they came from ships that have sunk in the treacherous waters surrounding this land."

"Around this placid bay?" he scoffed. "These waters are far too tranquil. These must have traveled here from afar…"

"Do not allow the tranquility of this cove to fool you. These waters are teeming with untold dangers. Your very survival was nothing short of miraculous!" Even in the half-light cast off by the flickering lantern, he noted the stern admonishment that spoiled her visage before she hastily turned her face away from his view. She paused with a haunting silence as she calmed herself before continuing with the prior topic. "These chests, I have searched through them, though they contain little to serve my needs, save for the bits of fabric and notions. I do believe that you will find objects that will conform to your needs so please, feel free to peruse their contents at your leisure. I am going to return to the bay so I may find some shellfish for our next meal. If you need my assistance, just shout. Voices carry well in this cavern and I have excellent hearing."

She extended her arm towards him, offering him the lantern she held. She wouldn't require it to make her way out of the cave. He took hold of the handle as she pushed herself back to stand. Emma paused momentarily as Killian crouched, flipping open the latch on the first chest to uncover the hidden treasures beneath.

"Thank you. This was not at all what I expected…" he said as he poured over goods that had survived their journey well. He glanced over his shoulder with a wide grin crossing his lips, one that instantly faded when he discovered she'd already departed.

How? He'd barely averted his attention for a minute or two… How had she vanished so rapidly and so stealthily? One more mystery to add to his growing list…

When he emerged from the cavern, he sported a billowy black silken tunic featuring tiny mother-of-pearl buttons and linen trousers that were the color of the sand. He'd needed to draw the laces quite tight to prevent them from sliding off of his slender hips, but they were exceedingly more comfortable than what was left of his woolen uniform pants. He'd fretted over not finding a razor in any of the chests although he did locate a short-bladed cutlass within a chest full of treasure, likely once the property of a long-dead pirate. It didn't sit as comfortably in his grip as his service rapier but it was a solid, capable weapon. It would certainly prove useful to split a coconut or filet a fish.

He tucked the blade back into its scabbard as he caught sight of Emma on the horizon. He was prepared to thank her for the clothing he'd found, but there was something about the expression on her face… She looked worried, even frightened and she was running toward him.

"Emma? You look vexed, love…"

"Get back inside the cave!" she ordered. "There's a storm coming. It isn't safe here…"

Killian's brow lifted in confusion as he glanced skyward, seeing only a few sparse, puffy clouds against the azure backdrop of the heavens. There was no foul wind blowing to indicate an impending storm. Whatever was she talking about?

"What storm? There's no sign of rain clouds above…"

"Killian…," she pleaded, catching his arm as she hurried past him and tugging him back to the shelter of the cave. "Don't argue with me. Just return to the cavern, back to the pools. You can not be caught up in this…"

"In what?" he pressed for more information while trusting her judgement and retreating beneath the rocky overhang. He expected that she would remain here with him for the duration of this coming storm but once he was safely out of the elements, she released her grasp and scrambled back toward the ridge. "Emma? Where are you going? I thought you said there was a storm coming? That it wasn't safe?"

She stopped at the crest of the ridge and lowered her head. He wasn't sure what to make of her body language or the consternation etched into her face as she glanced over her shoulder.

"It isn't safe for you," she replied sternly. "but this storm - it's here for me."

#cssns20 #cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs au ff #siren emma #la sirena

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fk12b · 4 years

Text

Thrill Of It All

Boxer & Rockstar AU in the 80′s AU

Boxer!Bucky Barnes x Rockstar!Reader

@asadmarveltrashbag’s 3K Writing Challenge

A BLAST FROM THE BAST!: Thrill Of It All

Main Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes

Prompts:

“You knocked over my ceramic Hello Kitty piggy bank, bitch”

“Once again, I fell in love with you”

Warnings: So much kissing. Just pure fluff. Boxing??? Rock & Roll??? Old shoes and alcoholism???

Word Count: 6258 Words

A/N: First of all congratulations to my friend @asadmarveltrashbag you’re amazing, and she deserves all the love. Second, thanks for letting me participate in this amazing challenge. And of course, I hope you enjoy this little piece of my mind. Here you go <3000. I’m so sorry for posting this like, so very late.

Based on these songs -> Stacy - Fortune (1985, AOR/Hard Rock/Arena Rock from USA ) + Thrill Of It All - Fortune (I recommend you to listen to these two songs, which they are one of my favorites, while you read this, or simply take a moment to admire these gems. Headphones greatly recommended)

The roar of the crowd could be heard from miles away. They were ready for a good show.

One was King of the ring

The other was the Queen of the pentagram

But they couldn’t care less...

James “Bucky” Barnes needed a moment to relax his mind and clear his thoughts. He couldn’t let his feelings get in the way of this fight, or he would be bound to failure. Sitting on the bench of the changing room, he closed his eyes, letting his head rest in the lockers behind him, taking a deep breath to tranquilize his racing heart. After some seconds, Bucky placed his headphones over his head, pressing play on his walkman.

Always the same routine before a fight. Long deep breaths while he listened to her voice, that was one of the angels, becoming one with the guitar. How lucky he was for being blessed with her voice. Oh, no, she didn’t usually sing. Even though she moved graciously on stage, playing her bass as if it was another part of her body. She was not the lead singer of her group, no. She was the back voice with showgirl soul, brimful of elegance and grace. She was the soul of the rock group.

You stand alone

The look of a stranger in your eyes

Locking the door

Alone in the silence of the night

Pacing the floors, like a cat in the alley

You come and you go, oh such a tease

Barnes could spend hours just listening to her voice, as it made him feel warm, forgetting the rest of the world. The ending of the melody signaled it was the time for him to fight, and once the ballad of the goddess culminated, he stood up from his spot crestfallen, carefully, yet reluctantly putting away his Walkman inside of his bag. He stretched to warm the muscles of his legs, back, arms, cracking his neck, and finally, his knuckles. With newfound strength, he took his silk red robe, wrapping it around his form and putting on the hood, and headed out of the changing rooms, with thoughts of you clouding his mind.

One day I’ll reach down inside

Touch the fire that you hide

A kiss you won’t forget

Just for the thrill of it all

Meanwhile at the other side of the country...

The room you were assigned to in the huge venue’s backstage was almost quiet, with only the background noise the small TV was providing. Some sports channel your friend and lead guitarist of the band, Andy, had left on. You were currently sitting on a black couch, frowning with your elbows resting on your knees and hands laced resting under your nose, debating if you should wear black high heeled boots or just black boots.

The all so familiar opening of the boxing program made you deepen your frown, glaring at the two pairs of shoes on the coffee table in front of you. There was only half an hour left for you to get ready for the show, but all you could think of was your true love, and the argument you had yesterday.

It all started with a small thing. You had been stressed out thanks to the upcoming tour your band was starting today, sorting out last-minute details and making loads of phone calls and meetings with your bandmates, and agent, Tony Stark. Your boyfriend of five years, the world-champion boxer Bucky Barnes, was also tensed due to the nonstop fights he had.

During these past hectic five months, yesterday was the only day both of you had to be alone with each other. You couldn’t talk to each other much since every time Bucky tried to call you, it would go straight to voicemail, as you were twenty-four hours glued to it, talking to your manager or bandmates. And every time you tried to call Bucky to the hotel he was staying at, he would have already moved to the next location.

Bucky’s thoughts went to dangerous areas, thinking you were ignoring him, whereas all you could think of was the tour, as a result of your manager changing completely the detailed planned schedule you gave him, without consulting you, nor the band. You were furious, to say the least.

So, when Bucky finally arrived at your shared home, after five long months of not seeing each other, instead of being greeted with your usual smiley happy face and a tight hug, he was met with your angry self hurrying out of the house, grumbling you needed to go urgently to the studio, sparing him so much than small peck on the cheek.

Once you came back home from the meeting, you were tired and still angry as only half of the problem could be fixed. But Bucky was furious with everything, because his thoughts had clouded his mind, and it only took him to accidentally drop your favorite mug, scattering it into small chiliad pieces for you to snap at each other. The argument grew heated with every passing second until any of you couldn’t take it anymore, ending with Bucky rushing out of the house, knocking some things over after a harsh slam of the door.

When you woke up this morning, at an unholy hour to get ready for the tour, after not having slept a thing as a result of you spending the night crying, Bucky still wasn’t home and you felt hideous. Hence, between sobs, you got into the bus, leaving a letter for Bucky to read, if he ever returned home.

Now it’s up on your feet

Moving around from town to town

I know how it feels

Wearing a smile to hide a frown

When all of the while

I know what you’re thinking

You’re acting so shy

But it don’t mean a thing

The familiar tune, signaling the entrance of the first fighter interrupted your train of thoughts. It was your favorite song that your band had written. The one where the guitar solo, combined with the bass riff of the intro, sounded like a classical symphony, but still having the most heavy metal essence. Every time you played that song, the crowd always went wild with the first two notes and pumping their roar with each passing second. You always joked that it was the perfect song for boxing fight entrance.

And apparently, James Buchanan Barnes thought the same. You looked up to the TV and there he was, walking in all his glory to the ring, with confidence and a fire in his eyes, as if he was a fearful lion king. Your eyes followed his moves until the camera stopped at his face, clouded with determination. But all you could see were his beautiful blue eyes that shone with a newfound intensity. You almost forgot that he had a fight today, regretting not being there in the crowd to support him or watching the fight on the TV.

You were so lost in him and in your thoughts, you didn’t notice your friend JJ, the vocalist, dropping himself next to you on the couch to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. He was the only one that noticed something was wrong since you set foot in the trailer, while the others were still busy doing last-minute phone calls. But JJ saw right through your happy facade, concern for your wellbeing in his eyes, and you broke down explaining what happened that night.

“Stop worrying, everything is going to be all right” JJ reassured you squeezing your shoulder and bringing you to his side. However, you stayed silent, felling how tears cascaded down your face, unable to stop them. “You know that James really loves you right?” You still didn’t respond, eyes trained on the TV, while you watched how he got inside the ring and walked to his corner. To be honest, you didn’t know if JJ’s words were right. As if sensing your discomfort, he gently shook your shoulders.

“Are you seriously questioning his love for you?” Andy gasped, sitting on your other side, pointing outraged to the TV “That man is forever devoted to you. I have never seen someone look at his significant other, the way Bucky looks at you. You are soulmates. I can see it in his eyes” You chuckled at his words, looking down at your thumbs twining them together, while he patted your leg with a reassuring smile.

Andy has always been spiritual and philosophical of the quartet, you weren’t going to deny his words, but maybe, any other day, you would have believed them fully.

“Ten minutes” The stage coordinator, Jerry, shouted from the door while Chanin, your drummer, waited in the doorway. Quickly, wiping the trail of tears away, you threw on the simple black boots that reached your midthigh, before having a tight group hug the four of you and running together to the side stage, simply closing the door to the room.

No one bothered to turn off the TV, left on the sports channel. Barnes versus Wilson, the fight of the century was on, and as the first notes of the very song Bucky used for his entrance echoed through the venue, accompanied by the roaring clamor of the crowd, the first punch was thrown with the first chord of the first verse.

Wilson started his offensive moves, but Barnes’ defensive was impenetrable, and as Wilson stopped to adjust his stance, Bucky used that opportunity to land one of his famous punches, a powerful right hook thrown with his complete right side of his body, just before the referee signaled the end of the first round, in time with the first song. As if both crowds were one, they roared to support their favorites.

The first half of the fight started quite balanced but as Bucky’s stance remained like iron, tiredness was taking a toll on Wilson’s movements, and halfway throw one of the rounds, Bucky Barnes’ fieriness snaped and started throwing punch after punch, leaving Wilson with no time to respond.

Once Bucky threw one of his famous right hooks, that could shatter any jaw because like many opponents said they felt like iron, the fight was over. Bucky Barnes was victorious, having added another big title to his list. After the two opponents hugged, the world champion belt was given to the blue-eyed man, who hurried out of the ring as soon as he had it in his hands.

The press was left dumbfounded, wondering where the champion had to go in such a hurry, as if he had somewhere else important to be than answering their questions. Of course, he had somewhere else important to be. Better yet, someone important to go to. The journalists seemed to multiply themselves in front of Bucky. The flashes of their cameras blinding him everywhere he looked, in his frantic search for a way out from the sea of press and fans. One of the journalists even dared to jump in front of him.

“Bucky, Bucky, Please. New York Times, Do you have some words for us?”

“I’m retiring. Now, I’m sorry, I have a girl to see” The boxer interrupted the man before he started to bombard him with more questions, while the crowd around them gasped and went wild with questions, with a gentle shove to his arm.

“But-” The young journalist tried to pry more words out of him.

“Please, move. I have a girl to see” Bucky said more sternly this time.

“You heard the champion!” Sam Wilson shouted from his left making both of them turn to him, interrupting the interviewer bugging Bucky “Now, move!” he gestured with his head before locking eyes with the champion throwing a knowing smile his way “What are you waiting for” He sternly said, raising an eyebrow to Bucky, who gave him a curt nod in thanks, shaking his head with a small smirk of his own.

The young reporter gulped in fear, not wanting to upset the prize-winning more, he jumped out of his way, snapping pictures at Bucky’s retiring form, prompting the rest of the press to do the same.

One day I’ll reach down inside

Touch the fire that you hide

A kiss you won’t forget

Just for the thrill of it all

And if it’s only one night

Tomorrow’s yours but the moment’s mine

I’ll shoot my super twist

Just for the thrill of it all

It was past midnight when Bucky got back home. He was tired and battered, new bruises adorning his face. Throwing his bag carelessly next to the door, after kicking it with his foot, he peeled off of his body the leather jacket clinging to him like a second skin with a lot of struggle. His tired self and mind only had thoughts about snuggling with you, but the clatter of a shard, when he took a step made his head snap to the floor. It was then when the memories of yesterday came back overflowing his brain.

How he walked away from you, how the pent up stress took a better of him. Bucky felt horrible, as he crouched down to retrieve the pieces of the mess he made, wishing he could have acted better on his actions. The drained man frowned, not recognizing whatever broken object he was holding, but he was adamant about buying a new one to replace it.

When he left the pieced object on the entrance table, it was then when he noticed the house quieter than usual and all the lights being off. Maybe you were asleep? It was late so it could be understandable, but on the back of his mind, he feared the worst. What if you had left him for good? He couldn’t bear losing you, for a stupid mistake, a stupid fight. You made him a better man, you were his rock. He would be lost without you.

To collect his thoughts and racing heart, Bucky went to the kitchen to pick a water bottle, running his hands down his face, and letting out a long breath through his nose. As he reached the fridge, the calendar where you wrote down important events, caught his eye hanging on the wall.

On the day of today, there were to events appointed, his fight and your first concert, signaling the start of the tour. It was then he realized he had been a complete stupid asshole. Instead of being caring and understanding about the stress the tours generated you, always making sure everything was settled to the detail, he was the stupid selfish idiotic boyfriend. And what made him tears sting in his eyes was that he wasn’t next to you to support you.

There was also written the name of the town there, only just six hours away. Letting his head hit the wall, he then glanced around the kitchen seeing a folded piece of paper with his name written on it. At that moment, his heart skipped a beat fearing the worst. In a panic, Bucky rushed to pick it up and without opening it he ran to your shared bedroom.

Once he reached the top of the stairs, his heart and mind were at a mile per millisecond and his worst fears became true when he opened the door to your shared bedroom and you weren’t there.

His mind wasn’t registering anything he was doing or happening, too preoccupied with finding you, as he rushed back to the calendar, for any more details. It was in the side block of notes where the name of the hotel was written. Quickly picking back his leather jacket and bike keys, not caring that his dead tired muscles were screaming at him to stop, he carefully placed the note inside his pocket and roared his baby to life, speeding out of the porch to get to you as fast as possible.

Bucky Barnes drove like a mad man, with only one thought in mind, and he for sure risked his life. But he didn’t care if he had lost you for good. He had to see you and apologize. Now, as he stopped in front of the hotel you were staying at, were a lot of fans had crowded around the entrance to take a peek at their idols, they went feral as all of them recognized him, not letting him stand up from his bike.

The security guards fending the hotel entrance came to his rescue, as they recognized him as your boyfriend, presuming he came to surprise you, pushing people away from him and escorting him, as they marched towards the main entrance, where they told him your room number. With a rushed thank you, he instantly ran up the stairs since waiting for the elevator would take too much time.

Just as Bucky walked throw the corridor leading to your room, he thought clearly. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you were mad at him? Tired and more anxious than he was ever before, it took him a while to compose his thoughts. What he was going to say, Sorry? It seemed too plain, for his mistakes. He didn’t even have flowers with him.

Once he reached your door, he hesitated on knocking, hoovering his fist over it. He was sure you didn’t want to see him but well, it’s worth a shot. With a ragged breath, he knocked on your door.

You thought you had dreamed it, but you swore you heard a knock on your door. Taking a quick look at the digital clock with red bright numbers, you realized it was 6 AM. You were still tired as you still didn’t sleep well. It was always hard for you not to sleep near Bucky because he was warm and being in his arms always made you feel safe. Although, it didn’t help much the constant thoughts of the fight you had flooding your mind either.

Since you didn’t have a concert today, you thought that maybe one of the guards needed something, or one of your friends wanted something, like go sightseeing, before the meet and greet with the fans. You rose from the warm, yet cold bed, placing a robe around you, and trying to tame your mane a bit before you opened the door.

You were surprised to see Bucky on the other side of it, looking down to the floor with a deep frown in his face. “Bucky” you softly whispered, his head snapping up to meet your eyes.

At that very moment, Bucky’s world stopped, again, as if it was the first time he saw you. Even having recently woken up, you were the most beautiful woman of the entire galaxy, and he surely will be blessed if you forgave him. Bucky’s mind halted as he took in your shiny beautiful Y/E/C eyes and merry smile. God, It felt like eons since he had seen that beautiful smile. Had he been this blind all this time?

Without thinking it twice, you crashed yourself forcefully to him, making him stumble a bit at the force, but never losing his balance, hugging him tightly to you. Bucky instantly pulled your much smaller form to him, circling your middle with his strong and sculpted arms. You buried your head in the crook of his neck as you clung to him for dear life as if he was going to disappear at any second, being sure you were still dreaming. You were pressing yourselves into each other so hard, it was as if you were trying to make yourselves into a single entity.

“You came” you whispered closing your eyes, letting him cloud your senses as you felt Bucky move one hand, to cradle the back of your head into his big hand, without letting go of you while you apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, doll” Bucky whispered back in your ear, kissing the side of your head, before cradling your face carefully between his big and battered hands, to rest his forehead in yours “I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, but just know that I love you so much. You are my sun and stars. You make me a better person. I can’t lose you. I’d be so lost without you”

“Bucky” you spoke softly his name as you turned your head a bit, to caress his nose with yours, leaving your lips close to his “What are you talking about?” you wondered frowning, your breath ghosting his lips with each word. Had he not read your letter?

You felt his lips crash into yours in a searing, yet tender, kiss full of love. He poured out every emotion he felt towards you in that kiss. You instantly kissed back holding onto his jacket and pouring out every ounce of emotion into the kiss too. And if it wasn’t for Bucky’s thumb caressing your cheek, you would have thought you were dreaming of this kiss. Bucky’s lips brushed yours, softly, delicately, like butterfly wings, just long enough that he could steal your breath away, feeling the warmth of his skin, and the taste of something undescribable lingering far after. When the need for air felt unbearable, you parted to gasp for air while he rested his forehead on yours.

“Please, don’t leave me” he whispered softly, not wanting to break the magic that surrounded this intimate moment, nuzzling your nose with his, lips brushing together in a feathery touch.

“Bucky,” you said a bit louder this time “What are you talking about?” You pecked his lips, making him hiss a bit as you realized now that he had a split lip, and a bruise forming next to his left eye. Carefully, placing your palm next to it, Bucky leaned into it, after nuzzling it to kiss it “I’m not leaving you, how could I ever leave you? I love you so much.” Bucky couldn’t help but kiss you again, he wanted to get lost in that moment, and so he did until you pulled apart and took shaky, shallow breaths “You are my world, my soulmate” you whispered caressing his cheek looking into his glistening blue orbs, getting lost in them. “You didn’t read my letter did you?”

“I’m retiring” Bucky let out a tired sigh, that’s when you took in his tired form, the bags under his eyes and the still-forming bruises. “I love boxing, but I love you more, doll” He but let his weight slump on you, yet cradling you to his chest.

“James Buchanan Barnes! Did you drive here all night, right after the fight, six hours on your Bike?” you only but freaked out, holding his face to make him focus “Are you crazy! You-”

Bucky silenced you with another kiss, and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breaths mingled, while his other hand got lost in your locks. You ran your fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you both and you could feel the beating of his heart against your chest, running one hand up to his chest.

Definitely, your senses had been seduced and you could no longer think straight. “Y/N” Bucky whispered slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. You smile, your heart fluttering at his voice as you clasped your hands at the back of his neck. Never before has your name ever felt so wonderful “I don’t care, I had to see you” He kissed your forehead as if saying sorry, a weight being lifted over his shoulders.

“You could have come here in the morning, If you had read my letter” you reassured him, untangling your form from his frame reluctantly, dragging your hands down his right arm, the one you knew was scarred and covered in tattoos. Bucky entwined your fingers with his tightly, as you dragged him inside your room, closing the door after him.

Looking down at his clock, he realized it was 6AM. Widening his eyes, at his idiocy he ran his free hand down his face, letting out a long sigh. “Please don’t leave me, I’m sorry for being an idiotic asshole” was all he could whisper as he let you drag him to your bed, making him sit there.

“I’m not going to leave you” You kissed his forehead and scruffy cheeks before you helped him take off his leather jacket and boots “How could I ever leave you?” you carefully peeled the t-shirt that had clung to him like a second skin. You knew he was sore after the fight, as you could see a lot of purple sports covering his skin. After he was only in his boxers, you both got under the covers, holding each other close.

“Because, I’ve been an asshole, baby. I thought you hated me” Bucky spoke tiredness taking over his body, now that he was comfortable and you in his arms. He felt how you kissed his eyelids, that he didn’t know had closed them, as a smile graced his beautiful face, one of your own mirroring his.

“I mean I thought you hated me because I yelled at you” you frowned letting your head fall close to his, laying almost on top of him.

“Uhm, no” he tiredly whined rolling to face you, entwining your legs together “Never, but the note...” he mumbled fighting very hard to stay awake

“We’ll talk in the morning,” you said kissing his lips once more, holding him close to you “Now go to sleep”

“but-”

“Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up” you both let the sleep embrace you, not letting go of each other.

It was a more reasonable hour when you woke up to a feather-like touch, caressing your cheek. You couldn’t help but beam, while you tried to hide, pressing your form closer to Bucky’s chest, that shook as he let out a happy chuckle.

“Good morning, beautiful” he let out in his morning raspy voice as he moved to kiss your cheek, playfully letting his body weight rest on you, making sure he didn’t crush you.

“Morning, handsome” you let out a jawn as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, and took him by surprise when you tackled him down to the bed, straddling his lap, as you both laughed non stop.

Bucky thought he was blessed by the angels themselves, admiring your ethereal form glowing in the morning sun, as he caressed your arms. After all this time, each time he looked at you, it was as if it was the first time he saw you. He would find new different glow of lights when the sun touched your skin, new different shades of your Y/H/L Y/H/C locks and the red of your lips. A new different twinkle in your bewitching Y/E/C headlights, when he looked into them and got lost. At that exact moment, that was all he ever wanted and needed.

“What are you thinking?” You wondered with a bright smile, caressing the purples in his chest, knowing that he didn’t hear a word you said.

“Nothing” the blue-eyed man focused on your caring and loving eyes “Once again I fell in love” he moved to a sitting position, holding you gently to him, cupping your face with one hand. Bucky leaned down and softly kissed the tender area at the base of your neck, before leaving a trail of warm pecks along the length of it and throat, to brush your lips together in a searing kiss, warmth radiating from the spot where his lips just touched, slowly spreading through the rest of you. “I’m retiring from Boxing” Bucky announced stopping your next words with a soft and warm peck “Before you say anything, I’ve been thinking about this, and us”

“But boxing is your life” you frowned hugging his neck as he denied adamantly.

“You couldn’t be more wrong” Bucky smiled softly at you “You are my life” he stated kissing your forehead and lingering his lips there “I spend a lot of miles away from you, for just a mere seconds of glory, when all the glory and all I need is right here in my arms”

Your eyes were glistening with happy tears at his words, holding him tight and close to you. You didn’t understand why he needed to give up his dream, just for you. “Bucky, I can’t as you to do such a thing, just to be with me. Boxing is your dream”

“You don’t understand” he spoke softly holding your hands close to his heart “You are my dream, and I don’t ask you. I’m doing this because I want to” He paused for a moment to look directly in your eyes “I want to be with you, forever. I don’t want you to be worried if I will ever come back to you because I took a blow badly. I don’t need all the glory, nor the money. All I need is you”

By now, small tears were running down your cheeks, were Bucky made them disappear with his thumbs. He held your chin delicately between his fingers tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “If that’s what you want, I’m very happy” you nodded kissing him “I just don’t want you to regret a thing”

You watched how Bucky held a finger with a mischievous smile, moving to retrieve something from his pants on the chair next to the bed. He was hiding something between his palms, a big smile not leaving his lips.

“I was planning on something else but this, right here, is the right moment” He moved one hand to reveal a small velvet box, and carefully opening it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring. You looked at him not believing your eyes, placing a hand over your agape mouth. “A promise to love you forever, I’ll be your friend and my love for you will never end. I will stand beside you, all the way and through the years, as life goes on and on.” He took a deep breath “Y/F/N Y/L/N, will you do me the honor of becoming my lovely wife?”

You could only nod, as by the time he popped the question happy tears were cascading down your face. Taking a deep breath, you croacked a yes as you crashed your lips into his. He had tears of his own as he chuckled when you pulled apart to put the ring on your tembrling hands. You both couldn’t belive it, but now you were engaged, you both feeling as happy as ever. You squealed when Bucky tackled you down to the bed hovering over you, and kissing you in a passionate kiss.

“Uhm, Bucky, Y/N/N?” You heard Chanin hesitan voice as he knocked on your door “I’m sorry for being a party pooper, but we really need to get ready for the meet and greet”

“Oh boy” you gasped having forgotten everything about today, being on cloud nine, that definitely your fiancé have nothing to do with, trying to push him off of you to get ready, to no avail.

“How did you know I was here?” Bucky asked not having any plans to move, until you playfully patted his cheek, and reluctanlty moving off of you.

“We saw your bike when I went to order the breakfast!” Andy happily squealed.

“We heard everything, by the way” JJ squealed too “Congratulations to the newlyengaged” They all cheered together.

“Are you presentable enough, so we can open the door to hug you both?” Chanin wondered.

Between chuckles, you quickly got ready so your friends and bandmates could hug you and congratulate you.

One day I’ll reach down inside

Touch the fire that you hide

A kiss you won’t forget

Just for the thrill of it all

And if it’s only one night

Tomorrow’s yours but the moment’s mine

I’ll shoot my super twist

Just for the thrill of it all

You were halfway through the tour, with Bucky by your side. It was unspoken rule that now that he was here, he had to join for the rest of the tour, and since you were engaged and you wanted to spend the most time together, no one hesitated on making room for one more troubled soul.

One of your bodyguards had injured himself while he chased a fan, that wanted to intrude in the backstage, so everyone thought that Bucky was fit for the job, now that he was retired from boxing. Your other bodyguard, Steve Rogers, didn’t complain either, as he loved having his friend Bucky around. For once, everything was perfect.

Halfway through the concert, after the song ended, usually where you talked with the crowd, you joined JJ this time, picking the microphone in front of you.

“How’s everyone?” JJ cheered making the whole stage go wild in a second “Wow! Are you hyped too, like we are? Holy shit!” You chuckled while everyone cheered again “I see you have decided to joing the small JJ-Talk, Y/N/N” he smirked at you placing his arm around your shoulders.

“Yes, it was about damn time, you know!” you happily spoke making the crowded stadium go wilder, if possible “And besides I have a present for you all!”

“Wohow!” JJ did a happy crazy dance, as the people chanted your name “Are you going to do what we ALL think you are going to do!” He looked at you spectantly, along with the quiet audience.

You took a deep breath, creating misterious aura, a smile permanently on your face, suddenly becoming nervous, as you didn’t rehearse what you were about to do “Yes” at that word the croud went savage with glee. “I have a song for all the people that are in love, or need a love song, or just simply, y’know, want to enjoy some music, and I don’t even know what I’m even saying” The crowd and bandmates laughed with you.

After thanking, Scott, the stage coordinator, who placed a tabouret and a microphone in the middle of the stage for your little performance, handed you your red Fender Stratocaster with a happy fanboy smile. Taking a look at the side stage for support, were Bucky was standing enjoying the show, next to Steve, you beamed when Bucky couldn’t help but throw a wink at you, along with a kiss.

“Man, you are so whiped” Steve leaned close to whisper to his friend “Wilson was very right”

“Oh, shut up, punk” Bucky slapped his head focusing back on you.

“So, this song is for someone very special” You cleared your throat as the crow awed “You know, is the cheesy moment-”

“Really? We didn’t notice!” Andy joked making everyone in the venue laugh.

“Don’t listening to him! He’s jealous because the song is not about him” you joked back, Chanin fuelling the joke with a Ba-dum-tss “So, I was saying, this a very special moment-”

“And cheesy” JJ repeated joining the teasing.

“SO, of course my song needs a beautiful” you raised your index finger to stop Andy “and cheesy title” by now the spectators were full on joining your antics clapping and whoping when needed “This song is called you still broke my hello kitty piggy bank, bitch”

Everyone laughed and cheered as the illumination dimed until there was only a spot light, pointed at you.

When Bucky heard the tittle, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, as he had finally discovered what was the figurine he broke. And for the first time, Bucky was going to hear you magical voice live.

As you strung the strings on your electric guitar, the rest of the world disappeared. He let you magical chant envelop him, there was no crapy cassette on a battered Walkman, around his ears to disturb your magnetism. But no cassette was crapy when it held your voice. It was never possible.

You were singing directly to him. This song was about you both, and even though, you were sharing it with the rest of the world it was entirely yours. You were pouring out your heart, voice becoming one with the guitar, that completed you to perfection. And he understood what that letter he found and held it close to his heart, meant. It was a love letter. It was the love letter turned melody. It was your ballad, your love song.

Just for the thrill of it all

And as the roar of the crowd could be heard from miles away, the King of the ring, run to kiss his Queen of the pentagram, as everyone cheered like there was no tomorrow...

Just for the thrill of it all

...But they couldn’t care less, as they held each other close as their hearts roared and cheered at each other, like there was no tomorrow.

Let me know what you thought about it, feedback is very welcomed. And I’m very sorry for posting this so very late.

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hgfstreamchats · 3 years

Text

Alien

highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:43 PM Well, how is everyone else's evening treating them so far? Also, how is the picture, the audio? Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:44 PM Not too horribly. Audio is good, picture seems fairly good. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:44 PM That's something. There we go. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:46 PM Perfect. I think a little horror is a good compliment to today. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:47 PM Agreed. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:47 PM You yourself are doing well? highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:47 PM Never peachier. You? Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:48 PM As well as can be expected. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:48 PM I think we're all in the same boat. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:48 PM So it seems.

How fortunate that we can traverse space without the horrible space garments. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:51 PM In the comfort of knowing organic parasites want nothing to do with us. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:52 PM Though it might be interesting to encounter one, one day. Just to see how they react to a species they cannot eat nor inhabit. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:54 PM You just know there's someone out there who'd leap at the chance to keep a few as pets. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:55 PM I feel as though I know several Soundwaves who would deeply enjoy keeping them. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:56 PM Soundwaves are to xenomorphs as variants of me are to automobiles. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:57 PM There are worse things to enjoy, I suppose. They take up less room than Shockwave's drillers. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:57 PM Better personalities, too. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:57 PM Indeed... highglossfinish — Yesterday at 9:58 PM I always forget how slowly this movie begins. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 9:59 PM Yes, quite a bit more scene setting than the subsequent ones. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:01 PM Yes, we certainly are in space. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:01 PM Their drop ship is pretty delicate if they cannot land in a wind without getting a hull breech. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:02 PM Isn't it though? Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:04 PM Ah yes, their very futuristic readouts that make absolutely no sense at all. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:05 PM I love human notions of how space works. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:08 PM It's remarkably silly. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:09 PM "Let's walk heedlessly onto it." Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:09 PM Even without knowing that the ship is full of parasites, they should probably know better than to go in there. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:10 PM Always better to err on the side of caution and avoid ships surrounded by dramatic music and ominous mist. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:11 PM 'I don't know what it is, let's all crawl right in'. If they could have, the humans would have crawled right into the wreck of the Nemesis, I wager. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:12 PM And stood around gaping, slack-jawed. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:13 PM Poking at the dead. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:14 PM "Mangled corpses, warning signals? Let's not leave!" Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:15 PM No, they surely must investigate further! Curiousity never comes back to bite humans. Oh yes. Touch it. No one could have seen that coming. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:18 PM Shock. Shock. Aghast. There's no better time to take risks and indulge curiosities than the nakedness of space, with a damaged ship. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:19 PM The only one with sense. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:20 PM "We could all die." "That probably won't happen." Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:21 PM They are not even trying to prevent catching every weird alien disease there might be. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:22 PM They're doing everything shy of licking it. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:23 PM If only this could have been prevented. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:25 PM If only, if only. If only there were some interval where someone might have made a different choice. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:27 PM Alas, there was nothing else that could have been done. They had to crawl into the derelict ship, and play with the room full of obviously dangerous eggs, and then break quarantine procedure. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:28 PM "Oh well, too late to pop him out the airlock now." "Also too late to freeze him. Quarantine him. Really, anything that might contain whatever's coming next." Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:29 PM No no, they have to leave him out. Unattended. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:30 PM Unrestrained, obviously incubating something. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:31 PM Leave the door open while you look, that's always good form. No chance a creature could escape further into the ship. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:31 PM Might want to take all your guns and weapons and throw them into the waste disposal units, just for good measure. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:32 PM Because he knows so much about it, to know it's dead now. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:33 PM "Let's hover with our faces directly over it." Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:34 PM I would be entirely unsurprised if they decided to lick it. For 'science'. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:34 PM Concurred. A very sensible suggestion, better to ignore it for the second time. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:37 PM If they don't ignore it, then more bad things cannot happen. And who wants that? Sure, let him cough on you. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:38 PM Cough on you, breathe on you, share food with you. Why not let him spit in your mouths just to see what will happen? Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:39 PM And why not freeze him? From the perspective of the company who wants the xenomorph, it would be much neater if they froze him with the embryo, rather than lose the whole ship and payload, and still fail to get their prize. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:39 PM Listen I'm not subjecting myself to what would surely give me nightmares, but I need y'all to know that from where I sit it looks like you're discussing last year. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:40 PM We very well could be. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:40 PM ....or. at least. Where I am. I certainly hope you're not bothered with similar problems wherever you are. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:41 PM Of all the issues I am plagued with, fortunately respiratory viruses are not one of them. Or hostile aliens, as the case may be. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:42 PM None of the problems that plague organic chests. From viruses to this. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:42 PM Should we question why they have a cattle prod aboard their mining hauler? Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:50 PM ...Huh. I wonder if they're endangered. They certainly seem good at endangering jsjgjjsf Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:51 PM There was still a whole host of eggs back on the original ship. So, likely not endangered at this point. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:52 PM Oh! There are eggs that don't need a host? Ohhhhhh wait Are the hosts like Incubators basically highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:52 PM Exactly. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:52 PM Yes, precisely. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:52 PM Makes sense ....oh ew, now I'm thinking of that very specific wasp I had managed to block from my memory. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:53 PM Egg hatches facehugger that impregnates host that incubates tiny alien. That bursts out of chest. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:54 PM If I recall correctly, the shape of the host does influence the shape of the final creature. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:54 PM Okay, so is the facehugger, like, a separate living organism? Something in the egg that has only the purpose to leap, lay eggs, and die? Is that the baby parasite's true mother? It can't be, it was inside an egg with the baby... remind me not to become a xenobiologist, my head would explode. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:55 PM In a philosophical sense, maybe, but for all practical purposes the true mother is the creature that laid the eggs. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:56 PM I am still extremely baffled by the existence of this terrible turducken of eat-your-insides. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:56 PM Organic biology is messy like that. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:56 PM They can tell the difference between a host that's resisting and one that isn't. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:57 PM Wh-- how do you resist THAT?? Do you mean the facehugger part, or the growing baby highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:57 PM Facehugger. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:57 PM Oh well yeah you can resist that Do they leave if you try to pull it off? highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:57 PM You can certainly try. No, they tighten their tails around the host's neck and if you try to cut them, they spray acidic blood every which way. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:58 PM They do not abandon an attempt at a host unless slain. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 10:58 PM And they're very strong. And fast. And if you manage to take out one, there's usually an entire room full of backup eggs. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 10:59 PM Well That's Gross. What does it matter if they can tell the difference between a resistant host and a (placid? dead?) one? Only that they won't spray things or tighten, or does it effect how they reproduce? ...I can see why most of them died tbh. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 10:59 PM They need the host alive. Otherwise it makes a poor incubator. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:00 PM So it's definitely a warmth thing then? Why exactly could they not just find somewhere warm that ISN'T a person Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:00 PM They do seem to have a preference for mammals as hosts... But the embryo is taking nutrients from the host body, as well as heat. A warm, moist room would not suffice. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:01 PM Ohhh... like... like an egg sac highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:01 PM The egg sac in this case is a live organic. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:02 PM As a live organic, I feel the only appropriate response to that is :( Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:02 PM Such is the nature of parasites. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:03 PM Fair Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:03 PM And you are unlikely to encounter this variety. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:03 PM Now I just need to avoid every variety in my vicinity, thank you very much highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:03 PM You don't have to worry about scraplets. It all balances out in the end. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:04 PM Ok GOOD POINT I can't imagine if termites liked to eat people. uggghh Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:04 PM In the interest of not traumatizing you, I will not elaborate on the many common parasitic species humans do encounter. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:05 PM We're all made of something someone eats. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:05 PM I'm aware of several and have had nightmares about nonexistent ones. That's mostly why I'm not actually watching this movie. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:05 PM And in the end, Unicron may get us all, metal or meat. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:06 PM Time to hang that on a wall at the newbuild complex. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:06 PM That's true... it's just that I might prefer to be eaten from the outside than the inside, if I had to choose... maybe. Which would be quicker? Do i really want to know? I'm sure there are ghost stories scarier than the passage of time and encroaching entropy. Maybe. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:08 PM It is usually the size of who is doing the eating that determines quickness, rather than the direction they eat you from. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:08 PM If I could get philosophical, most stories about immediate personal danger are more frightening to me, because then there's still things left to do, y'know? I'm leaving things behind if I go! If we're all going via Unicron, at least I know I made it as far as I could. Ahh, good point, good point. Though numbers do come into account. I've heard things about ants. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:10 PM ... Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:11 PM Waste of fuel and oxygen they cannot afford to spare. As for ants, much like scraplets, they are too small to efficiently eat you. Which is why it is unpleasant. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:12 PM It's the venom, too... highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:12 PM At least scraplets in large numbers do the job quickly. No more than a few blindingly excruciating seconds. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:12 PM Ants would not. Thankfully they don't take on humans much. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:14 PM What little I have seen of scraplets, they did not do a quick enough job on a decently armored mech. If given the choice, I would prefer something quicker. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:14 PM Understandable Hey how bad are the humans onscreen screwing up? Or are they mostly dead by now Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:15 PM There are only three left, one is looking for a cat, and the other two are making enough racket to attract any predator on the ship. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:16 PM Oh, I've heard about the cat! Glad it didn't get facehugged highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:16 PM It's the survivors of scraplet attacks that keep me up at night. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:17 PM ... Yes, just stand there while it menaces you. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:17 PM Lot of standing still and letting things happen in this movie. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:17 PM .....I get the feeling they're, ah. Not all there. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:18 PM Well, now they are there... and there, and over there... highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:18 PM Hah! Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:18 PM I want to laugh but I feel like that would be mean of me:laughing: Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:18 PM Ah, but it is fun to be mean. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:19 PM Well, whatever floats your goat *boat Please don't float any goats Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:20 PM I will not make a habit of it. And of course the cat is unafraid of it. Their ship is just the worst. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:23 PM If the creature didn't get it, something else would have. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:26 PM One minute for pre-flight systems checks... That would be pushing it. If only their space ships did not include so much tubing, the creatures would not be able to so easily hide. Pity she would immediately be suspected of murdering everyone on board, and blowing the main ship to cover her actions. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:38 PM And the company would be only too eager to push this narrative. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:38 PM Of course! Now then, what horror of gaming do you have in mind? How every automobile drive goes. highglossfinish — Yesterday at 11:44 PM Every automobile drive worth having. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:47 PM Glorious. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:50 PM I tried joining-- is the sound skippy/staticky to you, or is that on my end? I believe Discord calls on my phone have given me trouble before, so I have a hunch it's on my end. Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:52 PM The sound is fine for me. Sharpwing — Yesterday at 11:52 PM ...and now I have almost no sound at all oh no:joy: Ah, well. I tried. It was fun to be here in text form, anyway :blush: Starscreamapillar — Yesterday at 11:55 PM Mammal liquid... Jazz blend... Oh dear. I cannot have a stroke.. but I feel like these commercials are what having a stroke is like. highglossfinish — Today at 12:00 AM It certainly is a feeling. Of some description. And that's all I've got for tonight. Starscreamapillar — Today at 12:01 AM Thank you for the high quality entertainment Knock Out. I always enjoy the nonsense and Bad Decisions you choose to stream. highglossfinish — Today at 12:01 AM And you always make them enjoyable/bearable! Starscreamapillar — Today at 12:02 AM Until next time, farewell! highglossfinish — Today at 12:02 AM Farewell and good night! Sharpwing — Today at 12:04 AM Goodnight! I hope the future treats you both gently♡ highglossfinish — Today at 12:04 AM Here's to that.

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loonyginger · 4 years

Text

when everything falls apart. III.

previous / next

Hey guys, thank you all for reading this short story. It really means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this part, it’s nothing special and I felt a bit meh while writing it but I still hope you like it. Enjoy! – V.

Genre: some angst, I hope?

Pairing: Wooyoung x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Unlike the other times, you decided to decline the offer of the boys to join them at their dorms. Even though all of them tried to convince you otherwise, you definitely weren’t in the mood for forced distraction. For now, your mood was ruined and definitely wouldn’t become better when you’d be around Wooyoung. Before you confronted him, you certainly needed to clear your mind first … to calm down a little. You feared you’d worsen the situation even more if you’d confront him tonight about everything that has occurred.

As you said your goodbyes to the boys, you couldn’t even spot the male you loved dearly. He was nowhere to be seen. Yet, you had no desire to search for him after he made his point clear. He didn’t want to see you for the rest of the night so it’d probably be the best for the both of you if you accepted his wish and just head back home.

Once you arrived at your apartment, you pulled off your jacket and kicked your shoes into the corner in a rather careless manner right before you strolled over to your couch. Without hesitating, you let our body fall against the soft cushions of the sofa, allowing your eyelids to flutter shut. Silence filled your living room where usually music would echo through it. But even music was something you found quite disturbing right now. But then again, the silence wasn’t better either.

Bringing your palm up towards your face, you placed it against your forehead only to inhale a deep breath, trying to collecting your thoughts which endlessly roamed through your head. No, you didn’t want to start crying again but you couldn’t help it. Before you could even try to distract your thoughts, you shed some more tears without moving even an inch.

You had no clue how long you’ve sat there like that but eventually, you drifted off into a rather surprisingly peaceful slumber. At least, in the dream world, you had nothing to worry about … in fact, everything was perfect. You’d do anything for it to become reality.

The sunlight tickled your nose, eventually causing you to fully wake up. Confusion was written across your face as you observed your surroundings carefully, wondering why you’re still completely dressed and not being in your bed. The previous day had been so exhausting that you’ve slept through the whole night without waking up even once. Attempting to blink the tiredness away, you automatically grabbed for your smartphone which did rest next to you, unlocking its screen to check the time.

9:49 AM.

For a brief moment your eyes widened in shock, jumping up way too fast which caused black dots to appear in front of you as light dizziness overcame your body – a sign that you’ve gotten up way too quick for your body. Fortunately, however, you remembered you had the day off. It was Saturday and you didn’t have to work on the weekends so the panic faded as fast as it has appeared.

Your gaze fell back upon the bright display of your phone to check the missed notifications, hoping for a certain name to appear on it which sadly didn’t. You didn’t even bother to answer anyone back for now. Despite the sleep you’ve gotten, your mood hasn’t improved overnight. Waking up all alone on your couch rarely happened considering Wooyoung mostly spent his nights at your place … unlike the previous night.

Rushing your fingers through your hair, you desperately placed your phone back down on the couch, thinking about visiting your boyfriend over at the boys’ dorms. He hasn’t tried to call you nor has he sent you a message. However, you didn’t want to do nothing without knowing what truly bothered the male. Quickly, you have decided to buy some food from the bakery which wasn’t far away from your apartment in order to surprise him with a small breakfast. Food always enlightened his mood.

Being your optimistic-self again, you made your way over to the bathroom to take a quick shower and make you look acceptable again. After the disaster yesterday, your whole make-up got ruined, black mascara and eyeliner being smeared across your cheeks. You didn’t take long until you were all finished, ready to leave your apartment just to rush towards your favourite bakery to buy Wooyoung’s and your favourite food.

Once you gathered everything you required, your feet lead you towards KQ Entertainment where the members would spend their day practising. Passing the security without any problems, you moved to the training room you guessed they’d be at, struggling to open the door with your elbow since your hands were full of the food you’ve bought minutes ago. Seconds later, however, you finally managed to open it up, nearly stumbling into the room which was … empty.

Where was everyone?

Glaring around confusedly, you searched for any sign of the boys but they were nowhere to be found. Carefully, you let the food drop on top of a nearby table, pulling out your phone to text the group about their whereabouts. Not even a minute later, Hongjoong texted you back, informing you that they had their day off today.

Of course, how could you even forget about that? Remembering things was clearly something you weren’t good at. Nevertheless, your friend wrote that Wooyoung has left early to go to KQ anyway in order to practise more moves … or to relieve some stress by dancing which he used to do a lot whenever something was stressing him out.

Humming to yourself, you decided to let the food remain here while you would be searching for your boyfriend. He must be in the building somewhere. Allowing your feet to carry you out of the practice room, your eyes roamed through the silent hallway of the building to find any sign of your missing boyfriend. About a minute later, a familiar sound reached your eardrums. Music. Coming from a nearby room.

It didn’t take you long to recognise the song. Fake Love from BTS. A song your boyfriend was familiar with since he was a big fan himself and also because he did a cover of this dance with San. Curiously, you stepped closer to the glass door, peeking at the way he moved through the room, each move danced perfectly. Soon though, the smile you wore whilst watching him dance faded abruptly.

He wasn’t alone. Instead of San who usually did this cover with him, there was a woman you have never seen before. Furrowing your brows automatically, you watched how they moved along together, perfectly in-synch and way too close for your taste. Who was this woman and what did she do here? You usually knew every staff member of KQ considering you hung out with the boys quite often but this person was far from being part of the staff.

Time passed while you just stood there, observing the two of them moving across the room, passionately dancing to the music which played in the background. And you had to admit you didn’t like the way their moves harmonised. But not only that bothered you, but also the way Wooyoung glared at the brunette once the song ended made your heart sting lightly. It was a look he shouldn’t be giving anyone but you … a look he should have given you yesterday instead of snapping at you.

As the song ended, you recognised that both, Wooyoung and the other female remained in their ending position, heavily breathing while exchanging a long intimate glare with one another. Blinking away your confusion, you didn’t hesitate any longer and placed your hand above the doorknob, opening it to signal them you were being present. It took the both of them a moment to realise that someone else has entered the room but as Wooyoung finally decided to turn his attention to you, his facial expression immediately changed to a surprised one.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?”, he’d question, not even bothering to greet you properly. What a great start of a conversation.

Shoving your increasing jealousy aside, you offered them a small smile before you opened your mouth to give back an answer to his question. “I’ve wanted to surprise you with breakfast. I figured you could need a small break and after yesterd–“

“Sorry, but I don’t have time for that today. Besides, I told you I’m on a diet”, he silenced you, not allowing you to finish your sentence right before he turned his attention back to his companion, completely shutting you out.

“I think we should focus a little more on the chorus. You did great so far but I’m sure you’re capable of doing it even better”, he began talking to the smaller female, ignoring your presence completely which didn’t only confuse but also hurt you not only the slightest of a bit. You just stood there, baffled at the sight in front of you.

“Woo?”, you called out for him, forehead wrinkled upon the decision he has made. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you’d take a small break. I even bought your favourite food only for you. And after all your hard work I think it won’t do any harm to your diet if eat something you like”, you began reasoning, having the slightest spark of hope that he’d change his opinion about having breakfast with you. You weren’t ready to give up just yet.

Your eyes were basically glued upon the expression of your boyfriend which rapidly changed once he heard the words coming from your mouth. Releasing a deep, nearly annoyed sigh, Wooyoung decided to face you again, placing his attention on you whilst the stranger next to him observed the situation attentively.

“Didn’t you listen to what I just said? I’m busy, y/n. Busy. So do me a favour, stop being so clingy and whiny and leave us alone”, he snapped, his voice laced with annoyance which once again startled you. It was just like the previous night, only with the difference that he was with someone this time. Another woman he found more important than his own girlfriend.

Without even trying to ague, you decided to turn around on your heels to storm off, ignoring the glare of the woman on your back. You didn’t even bother to go back to pick up the food you’ve bought for your breakfast, simply leaving the company’s building without even taking a look back. Too many emotions at once flew through your body. Confusion, anger, jealousy and even embarrassment for how he treated you in front of a complete stranger. Since when had it become a habit of him to talk to you in such a disrespectful way? Especially in front of someone else.

Your fingers slid inside of the pocket of your jacket to pull out your phone, instantly starting typing something.

Hey Sannie, care to have breakfast with me?

#ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez angst #wooyoung x reader #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez x you #ateez x atiny

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