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unluckilyimnot · 3 years

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Thing they still do/keep after a break up || Tokyo Revengers

Characters: Mikey, Takemichi, Draken, Baji, Chifuyu, Mitsuya, Kazutora, Kokonoi, Inui, Ran, Rindou, Izana, Kakucho, Sanzu, Shinichiro, Wakasa.

Type: angst

Warnings: none

Words count: 1,424

m.list

Do you guys like moodboard or making it ? I really love it and was thinking about doing some to go with some hc. What do you think about it ?

English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there's any mistakes

Mikey

During your relationship, it was normal for him to come and pick you up or leave you at your house. It began to be a routine to pass across your street, just because he never wanted to forget you one morning. Now that you two break up, he still passes by your house. Just to see your silhouette through your windows. Just because he doesn't want to forget that you used to be. But he always gets home late because you don't leave near his house at all.

Takemichi

He trusted you so much that he opened up to you and used to talk to you about what is on his mind. When you were gone, he had no one to talk to like he used to with you. So he just writes messages to you about everything: his day, thoughts, how he felt. Wishing you a good day or night, even saying that he still loves you. Before deleting everything.

Draken

You love photography, and to his sorrow now. You gave him so many pictures of both of you, or just a pretty one that you loved, that he just can't take it off of his wall. They're all mixed up with those of his friends and people he loves. Or used to love. He can't forget you, no matter what he does and it hurts him too much just by thinking that one day he has to take them off.

Mitsuya

One day he told you to stop by his house and take all your measures just to make you a pretty outfit for your birthday. Since he usually uses them as his base it means that you can wear everything he made if you want to. And that way he has his favorite model to try his creations. Now you’re not here anymore, so there is no sense to still use yours when he has a whole bunch of people who agree to try stuff for him. Still, he can’t help himself but doing it and watching it, for hours sometimes, and imagining you in it. Because no-one can pull some of his creations better than you.

Baji

He's an idiot, bad at school but actually trying his best and that was a thing you noticed pretty quickly. You got this habit of trying to sit next to him so you can help him and write on his notes. Same when you help him with his homework. So he has your handwriting everywhere on his school notes. When you broke up, he had the habit of re-read it all the time. Just because it's pretty, sometimes messy. He really loves your handwriting and now his notes feel empty without it.

Chifuyu

He always wanted someone to exchange his manga with, talking about it and leaving notes in it. When you came in the picture, he got the chance to do so and was the happiest. And he couldn't get over it and just stopped. So whenever he reads something, he puts notes in it while thinking of you, what you use to find funny or particularly sad. Use your favorite color and just the code you two created. He feels like he would never get over it even if he finds someone else.

Kazutora

Your fingers tracing his neck was the best feeling in the world for him. He felt like home, the tenderness he always wanted. It gave him the calm he needed, relaxing his messy mind. Nails scratching his skin a bit, following the dark lines. When you were gone, he got to do it himself. Wherever he is. In class or laying down on his bed, he just feels safe while doing this. As if you were still there.

Koko

He's not used to being attached to something, like an object. But you gave him a necklace for your 1 year anniversary and, even if it looks simple and isn't that expensive he just loves it too much. He always wears it. But mostly underneath his uniform cause he doesn't want the others to see it now that you're gone. He's taking good care of it cause if it breaks, he's sure he's gonna cry all over again. It's the only thing you left him.

Inui

You always hold his waist, for everything : catching his attention, hugging him, searching for comfort... It was just a thing you did a lot. Ironically, it was something that gave him so much comfort when you were the one looking for it. Holding his waist himself is a habit he picks up even before you two break up. At first, it was just because he missed you, now he can't fall asleep at night without it.

Ran

You never really stayed close at night, both of you needed space and you knew it. But during the night, Ran always checks if you’re still here, touching your cheek or back. He just feels better and can go back to sleep after that. Now, when he slays his arm slowly on the other side of his bed, it just hits the matter. A little, huffed, sound that kills him inside. Closing his eyes with a deep sigh, he rolls to his side and hides in the big blanket. Cursing under his breath before trying to fall asleep again.

Rindou

He knew it was a bad idea in the first place to get a matching tattoo with you. Nothing lasts forever after all. So he tries to think about it the best he can : now that you're gone, he still has something that reminds him of you. But for life. He feels like he's gonna miss you forever. This little thing in the back of his hands is something he can't stop touching, just because he used to touch yours while holding your hand. If his future partner asks about it, he still doesn’t know if he’s gonna lie or not, he just still loves you so much.

Izana

Izana still uses your shampoo because he couldn’t get to sleep without the scent. Your hair being close to his face almost every night in your relationship developed a need in him. He was always sniffing your hair, touching it and loving it when it was down cause it was easier for him to smell it. His friends stopped telling him it was wrong and didn't help him, instead they let him take his time to move on from you.

Kakucho

He gets used to you always wanting to spend your date in a café you really like : he could go there with his eyes closed. When you break up with him, he still couldn’t stop himself going to the same café. Maybe because he hopes to see you there, but it's also scary to find you with someone else. Yet, he still does, asking for your favorite order just to remind himself ‘cause he’s scared to forget it. Even though he doesn't like it at all.

Sanzu

You forget one of your shirts when you pick up your things at his place after the argument that made you two break up and he never gives it back to you. It doesn't smell like you anymore, so there is no point in keeping it or even sleeping with it when he’s particularly down. But for his mind, it’s something from you and it still makes him feel better, calming his episode of madness.

Shinichiro

Your love for music and band was never a secret for him and he just gets to listen to it all the damn time. He was habituated to whining cause you always listen to the same thing and get a bit too invested into your favorite bands but secretly loves it cause you were the happiest at those times. Now, he checks every new song they can come back with and can’t get your favorites out of his playlist.

Wakasa

You were annoying regarding skincare. Yes Wakasa has pretty skin without doing much but you still asked him for months to at least wash his face before going to bed and, to please you, he did. You helped him find the right product and was so proud that he couldn’t go back after. So his lazy persona washed his skin every evening for you. And keep doing it even if you're gone. He never changes the product and still does it like you’re gonna nag about it if you see his oily skin. Honestly, he missed even this part of you.

Shin ex being kpop stan lol

I hope you liked it ♡

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mhynvxii · 3 years

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KNB SCENARIO/HCDS —

Elementary GOM! + Kuroko, Momoi, Haizaki and Kagami giving you St-Valentine cards !

A/N : Happy (Belated) St-Valentine everyone ! 💞 ne Also going to write more as I will get to have my lil uni break fortunately!

Idea proposed by : lamnwar ( For some reason I can’t tag you ? But I hope destiny guide you toward it also hoping this is to your taste.)

Warning : Not proofread, attempt of humor, Kagami part is just me being a crack, Kuroko part is as short as him and Akashi part is probably having formatting problems :( Tumblr just suppress everything I‘ve wrote in the blank part when putting in draft idk about it now.

AKASHI SEIJUROU —

Everyone was pretty agitated today and Seijurou was a little surprised by all of it even he knew today is the Saint-Valentine. Integrating the elementary recently as he took classes at home before he still was unaccustomed to all the excitation and agitation that could take over a class in a special day like April fool, Christmas, Easter egg or even the Saint-Valentine at 8 year old.

« Everyone, everyone ! Call down ! We’re going to make special cards today that everyone would have to give to the person they like the most in the class, ok ? »

From what he has seen at home, the saint Valentine day was a special occasion where his mother would receive tons of flowers and refined chocolate from Paris. So he didn’t know where the card things came from as they’re supposed to be accompanying a gift but it was probably a commoner thing he has to respect to do like the other kids. Seijurou take place in the line to choose the paper he would write in and return at his seat like his comrades.

It was a white heart shaped paper for him and now he was observing how others would do their cards to make his, also remembering the assignment… it was all about doing drawing and writing nice thing for another person of this class. So he first had to choose someone if he wanted to get done and somehow something in him pushed him to choose you. Maybe it was the cute bandana you had in your hair, maybe it was because he remembered you smell like strawberries but he decided of it and he was quite pleased with his choice : you were his favorite classmate even if you didn’t knew it or at least yet.

He writes traditional Japanese in the front page of the card about how nice was your smile, French poesy in the back about how glad he was to had meet you. But once he have to fill the card with drawing it’s a whole another story, his refined writing skills going to trash when it will come to drawing : He never learnt somehow, it wasn’t necessary at home and at school they weren’t doing this no more because of how late he joined. Now he was in that embarrassing situation having to do just to try, just to not let awful blank. But even little flowers look ugly by him.

He watch his disaster with distance as he finishes it. Willing to dump it in the ben but his teachers apparently decided of something else and ask everyone to now give their cards to each other’s.

How surprised you were to receive Akashi’s as like a lot of person you did a card for him as well but you didn’t know if you had to cry instead of being happy because you thought he was mocking you and insulting writing in a language you don’t understand even in what was supposed to be Japanese. Only words who could have bad connotations you recognized and despair filled you up once you saw a -really- ugly drawing of you with flower in the hands and hair. You’ll never know if it was because he was tired or just because he was trolling why instead of to draw as well in the second page he decided to write a pun on here with a messy handwriting and the traces of multiples erased attempts :

« You’re one in a melon ! I need s’more friends like you :) »

KISE RYOUTA —

On his path to go to school, Kise felt super excited knowing it was the Saint-Valentine. He would always receive plenty of chocolates and funny letters to read from girls crushing on him and his ego would just multiplicate by 3. It didn’t had enough of it at this time, his fan club still being human sized but this time maybe he was excited by something else, something much more interesting… You.

He didn’t know if it was the way your voice would sound when you laugh, the way he would always have fun whenever he would pick you in his team in sport class or even if it was your pretty eyes and smile but something in you made him develop feelings. When he would sit beside you he just felt great, cool, relaxed you name it but it was like he wasn’t on earth for a moment…

Would you give him a card ? Chocolate ? or even better confess ? Because he was capable to do all of this.

When time has come to make the cards in class, Ryouta would negotiate the best color paper cards with your classmates. He picked night blue for you and seduced another classmate to get them to gift him their gold color pen, yes gift him. It was his now. And finally sitting at his place he started to get the work done, focusing on having a nice handwriting and avoiding errors.

Basically everything nice he would see being done in the class he would copy to put in yours but he took care to make it personal so it was just inspired work. Well it was indeed until he got to draw and it became chaotic work, he knew he wasn’t able to draw very nicely but eh this was probably the most awful art he has done and he refused to acknowledge it. « The drawing is nice » he forced himself to believe. Would you be able to tell it was you ?

He didn’t had any time left to ask someone to draw something good for him, it was playing break and he had to give you your card.

« Don’t forget kids : During St-Valentine we gives chocolate and cards to let know people we loves that we loves them, ok ? »

In the snow, with their scarf and big coats, all kids were playing to all sort of childish game when some would execute the assignment their teachers gaves them, especially Ryouta admirers. What slowed him down to reach your group of friends, he had to give his all to dismiss them all politely and run to you with a huge smile on his face. His grin was contagious so you smile as well once you saw him for no reason and turn toward him curious about what he could be here in front of you. You were part of the pure kids who would give their card to a friend of yours just to make sure your friends do not have nothing but here you were with zero cards in hands, flower or chocolate.

And you didn’t believe Ryouta was here to give you one, he wasn’t part of your group but he was a good friend and classmate.

All the white surrounding both you highlight how your cheeks would be affected by the cold and your cute facial traits. The scenery is pretty.

« Hey Y/n ! I made this just for you, take it ! »

Your expression can’t hide how much you’re shocked as Ryouta hand his card to you but if only it would stop there…

« PFF, GET OUT THE WAY ! I’m the one who made a card for them, not you ! Accept mine, Y/n !!

– EEEH ? NO MINES IS BETTER ! AND WHO EVEN ARE YOU DO YOU EVEN KNOW Y/N ?! »

It was a kid in one upper class higher who had a crush on you and you couldn’t understand how as you never saw him before and let aside talk to him… Now he was fighting with Ryouta to confess and you didn’t know what to do, so stunned by all the idiocy and the novelty of the situation. It was the kind of stuff Ryouta would assist to not you…

« Uhm… I don’t know you ? »

Just this sufficed to make the senpai sad, his eyes all full of water even if you just stated a fact. He gives you his card and run somewhere probably crying as you’re just confused. What have even done to him ?

« What a weird person… Ruining all my preparations like this… Anyway just wanting to let you know I think you’re really pretty and very nice, I like you a lot, Y/N..! Uhm and… I also have chocolate with me ! Happy St-Valentine ! »

He says, arranging his hair and scarf because of the physical part of the « argument ». Before to let you enjoy alone his gift and also not be caught by his admirers here he show you his all teeth smile full of confidence and warm like the Sun and run away to hide the red taking all over his cheeks.

You’re smiling already reading the first sentence of his card.

« You’re berry cool ♡ !! ( >ω<)♡(>ω< ✿) Do you want to be my valiant tiny ? »

At this time you were too young to see the lame levelness of this pun.

AOMINE DAIKI —

Aomine learnt about the St-Valentine concept at school and even then he needed Momoi help to fully understand it. Why would he be crafting heat shaped card if he didn’t had a lover ? A boy like him could never just fall under such a disgusting thing like love, people in love tends to act all lovey-dovey, overly affectionate and it’s like they change their whole personality… Just watching his parents kiss repulse him like a lot of young boys, Daiki is a kid of action ! And the only person he would propably marry was his basketball, wich was not a person.

« Daiki, I know there is that someone you might like in the class, isn’t it ? What about Momoi ? »

Daiki face express clearly his distaste to the idea, letting his tongue out he just say «erk, never again, miss. I’m not gonna marry such a crybaby. » and he return to his pouting, defending his right to not participate in the event meanwhile everyone is having fun making their cards. The teacher is desperate.

« Maybe think about your friend in other class ? I’m sure there is someone Daiki ! You must have a comrade dear to you, most unique than others… With who do you play in the court ? »

Daiki, do not want to think about who, pretty sure that nobody he could play with could be that special person his teacher is mentioning and then Momoi got to their table.

« Daiki is being annoying again, isn’t he miss ? But I can tell who’s Daiki lover !! I know them !!

– Hey Satsuki, stop lying I would never be in love, it’s disgusting ! Are you crazy ?! »

The two childhood friends look in each other’s eyes, defying themselves. The teacher standing here is completely distraught… She never had so much problems pushing a kid to participate in a St-Valentine events and never in her career she saw two friends defying each other’s like this at such a young age.

« He likes Y/n a looooot ! He find them beautiful and nice, he told me he likes whenever they would play with us and bring their mom plates !

– …!!!! I… It’s completely false ! They’re cool but I don’t like them like that duh ! They’re just a good friend !

– I don’t belieeeve yooouuu, Daiki is just a liar ! »

The two keep arguing until the teacher bring a blank card and pens for Aomine to write something nice for you. He’s stuck into this now.

« But what I will write anyway in it ? This is so weird to do things like this when I can talk to them directly.

– You’re sure, Dai-chan ? You’re gonna confess ?

– STOP BEING AN IDIOT SASTSU’ !!! THERE IS NO CONFFESION TO DO !!

– BUT YOU JUST ADMITED YOU LIKE THEM !!

– Come on you two, don’t yell at each other’s like this ! And Daiki making that card is important, your friend could always remember that they’re dear to you with that card ! If you just talk to them it’s good but isn’t it nice to have a pretty nice souvenir made by hands too ? »

Daiki whine à little before getting to craft his card but do it anyway, doing the assignment like he feel it. Momoi who has been searching for a pink pen return to his table probably to annoy him and she did.

« Look at my pretty card, do you think my friend will appreciate it ? »

He read what she wrote, laughing because of the stupid pun in it. Were they supposed to put things like it in it ? It’s somewhat fun but also so embarrassing…

« Your card is super ugly.

– Thanks. If you say it’s ugly it mean it’s pretty because you got no taste !

– Delusional a little ? Anyway how do we do stupid puns like yours ? »

Satsuki explain to him and help him find idea just to finally write this :

« How did the phone propose to his girlfriend… he gave her a ring. » « Olive you. »

Daiki wish he could ascend to another planet but he had to give it to you as time was running out. With his paper flower he gives you his card at the end of the day, also proposing you to play with him tomorrow in the park at the school gates.

From all people you never thought Daiki would give you anything but this whole day because of that stupid crush of yours on him, you waited, shyly holding your own card for him. Now was time for you to be courageous as well.

Both of you laugh reading the dumbs jokes but you had to ask him where is your ring because « isn’t he a phone ? » making him a blushing mess while Momoi was mocking him just behind.

« I olive you too. » you say.

And he can’t no more hide to himself how nice it feel to fall for you and this disgusting love. And apparently he can’t hide it from your parents and his as well now.

MOMOI SATSUKI —

Satsuki prepared everything from home, to the chocolate from the card, she took the event very seriously like the only viable occasion for her to try to make you her lover. Her mom was aware of it, Daiki mom was aware of it… The teacher is quite amused by how prepared she is and look at her student sitting during the whole activity as she already has done everything.

One would thought she would be helping others making their own cards or play with her friends but during the whole activity she had to look at you anxiously, trying to see if you were planning to give your card to her when at the same time she doesn’t want to ruin the surprise for herself. She wore her favorite green dress and white boots, Satsuki wanting to appear the more cutesy she has even been wear also funny hairpins in her hair, shaped like strawberries and cherries. What does lead Aomine to mock her as she is almost jumping in her chair from impatience.

« How embarrassing to be in love, erk ? Are you planning to marry them ? Who even are they ?

– Uh ! Who did even ask you anything Dai-chan ? You’re too little to know anything about marriage and love anyway.

– you’re just few months older than me don’t think it makes you better than me !!! See I’m taller than you and like by far !!

– It’s because you’re a cheater, My mom said you drink all the growing milk and soup in our house so I remain short and there is not any soup or milk left for me !!! and I don’t care anyways let me alone– EH DON’T TOUCH MY CHOCOLATES !

– But I am hungry and to who it could be for beside me ??! And Your mom is just lying to you to make you feel better.

– ITS FOR Y/n!!! »

So angry, Satsuki say it so loud everyone hear including you, she becomes a cherry mess when Daiki just shrugged and try to search for that Ryouta popular blonde who probably has chocolate too. Once she saw you looking in her direction, Satsuki try to hide under her table but don’t see the smile in your face. You didn’t finish your card but the essential of your message was here and now you really wanted to talk to her, it was for her anyway.

« Satsuki, there is no need to hide… I think everyone know it anyways. »

The pink haired girl get out of her obvious hiding place just to hands you her chocolate like a bunny would pop off its hole and she stands there shyly also giving you her card in hand.

« Happy st-Valentine Y/n, I lava you. »

She say at the same time you read the front page.

« I would pop a corny question : Would you be my valentine ? » « I lava you. »

Also handing you a rose, she smile greatly making your heart race a little bit faster.

« It’s going to melt, if it stays like this, eat the chocolates… but if only if you want to, of course ! »

Sweet, it felt like a cloud in the mouth and you can’t believe how nice it is.

« My mom helped me doing it, one can say I’ve been trying too hard but I really want to make you feel happy in that special day. y/n. you’re very dear to me and I think I love you, like lovers in love stories ! »

MURASAKIBARA ATSUSHI —

« Chocolate ? »That’s all inspired Atsushi the Saint-Valentine but everything else ? No thanks, he’s not interested. Watching as everyone is giving their all making the cards only annoys him as he don’t get the point of it but once he saw you actively trying to make your card thingie with care intrigued him. Of all people he wouldn’t except you to put so much effort in such insignificant festivity and all of that for who ? Atsushi can’t help but feel a little jealous but now he’s just watching you doing your own thing.

Maybe the St-Valentine was really a good event but it wasn’t something he could grasp the concept ? Seriously… Murasakibara thinks and thinks but just can’t but because there is there some chance that the card you’re making is for him maybe he should too get to work. But what to put in it ? He don’t know, he just do like everyone else and think about a joke to break the awkward glass that this kind of situation can create. A pun from him…

« Donut forget you’re a good friend ! » « I may like you like a maiobou »

It was nice for Atsushi and he left that to it not making the effort to draw much. When time came for everyone to give each other’s cards he would watch how people dared to go your way and gives their lovely paper words to you, some even having perfuming it but you would never give them something in exchange fortunately. Why was he thinking like that ? He just wanted you to not feel like he forget about you like a good friend would do because you two were friend but now…

Maybe it has something more to it… when you two would be playing in the court with Pokemon cards or wrestling stars he felt good. Maybe he liked to share his snacks with you for another reason than you’re really nice and calm to have around ? Maybe it was because you would smell like candies on occasion or you would share with him your favorite bds and he liked them all ?

But what was sure was that that something made him feel cautious, nervous making his big palm sweating. He was intimidating by his height but Atsushi never remembered you watching him weirdly or being scared yet he was afraid to make you uncomfortable or anything weird by giving his card to you. Is it a joke ? At the start he was just doing it for your own well being.

« Y/n-chin, Do you want to be my valentine ? »

He didn’t know he did say this with a straight face but as you say yes and handle him a box of chocolates it’s like he is in heaven.

« How did we get from a donut forget you’re my friend from if I can be your valen-tiny, Atsushi ? »

You said jokingly but he just got all flustered.

« I know it is a lame pun but I seriously couldn’t have done any better in the moment Y/n-chin… Stop teasing me about it.

– Don’t be mean to me… You wrote that you like me like a maioubou, do you get upset when eating a maioubou ?

– You’re-… You’re getting on my nerves Y/n-chin… stop… stop it ! »

KAGAMI TAIGA —

« You’re a Dino-mite » « You’re the burger to my fries » « Bee my valentine »

Kagami is embarrassed by his lames jokes, at first it was just the assignment the teacher gave them all to do but as he was still learning to properly write in English making puns in the language was kind of hard knowing that the pun he would think of in Japanese were not always translatable in English or just not themed in St-Valentine like he must do. And then he saw Himuro card, well written, really good looking even if it was a stupid assignment that most of the class won’t take seriously and he got competitive. And now here is confronted to his inability to make great jokes but can he do even any better ?

« What about I rap it ? Do you think it will do ?

– Yeah why not ? I am sure Y/n would like it.

– But isn’t she fan of Beyoncé ?

– You know how to sing in an RnB style ?

– No but I…

– Then rap. Everyone like Eminem, see ? So I’m pretty sure they like rap if you don’t feel like rapping and really want to stick to RnB then try to imitate the Destiny Child’s. »

If Himuro was setting him up, he didn’t know but it was definitely failing logic here but he followed it now wanting to impressing you more than satisfying his teacher demand. Kagami didn’t get Himuro sarcastic tone and get to work on a rap, choosing a beat and putting it in a mp3 to be able to play it in school. The St-Valentine morning he even has sunglasses on his face with baggy pants and a rose between his teeth. God forbid him to be so dumb at almost 10 yo but maybe it was all because of you this whole dumbery.

He has fell hard for you it has been a while now that he could consider you like a long crush, once he got to be in elementary school with you in fact all of this started but he never mustered the courage to admit he felt different around you, in another way than friendship would allow. He was all nervous and blushing while raping « You’re the fries to my burger, the salad to my steak, the salt to my pepper. Y/n please bee my Vailant tine ! »

And Himuro couldn’t hold a shit when watching this, you not knowing how to react to anything happening.

HAIZAKI SHOGOU —

Haizaki hated St-Valentine, it wasn’t because of how much cringe he found his mom during that neither because of the awful show that would be on Tv instead of his favorite anime but because he would get no cards at school.

He was mean, aggressive and except the group of dangerous idiots he would play with, few of his comrade were courageous to stand really long beside him making him unappreciated. Mostly by the opposite gender even if occasionally some girls would fall for his bad boy persona. But even him, just by ego, would like to receive a card.

« Shougo, if you don’t do anything it’s completely normal that no one would give you anything in exchange.. come on now! If you maybe write something nice about the person you like they would make something for you as well tomorrow! Start making your card now so you don’t have to do anything at home.

– Who said I even want a card ! I don’t care, all the girls here are ugly, they look like pigs and smell like my farts ! »

It’s not even useful to say he has been punished for his words but it was the usual for him anyways. Instead of staying still in the corner of the class he go talk with his crew just to see they’re all doing card like the teacher said and he felt betrayed. Love is for weak they all said five minutes ago but now they were all making these stupid cards and drawing hearts ?

« Listen Shougou, I think like you but I don’t want to be punished you know ? I don’t want the teacher to make a report to my dad again…

– Ugh but what if we don’t want to celebrate this stupid party, she’ll the one not respecting the rules you can defend yourself with that.

– Anyway, it’s already late and.. I really want to give my card to this girl… There must at least one you find pretty, isn’t it ?

– Ugh… nah, they look like dead fishes. »

Even his friends sighs, tired by his lack of objectivity.

« So who’s the less ugly of them all..? »

He’s looking at the class, seriously giving his opinion this time, okay maybe he has been lying for one person but how embarrassing to even admit anything. It was obviously you who got him returning on his words but if he was completely honest he would say that it was not today he found your hair good looking and your face agreable to see. He always found you really pretty.

« Maybe… Y/n, she look like… A dandelion flower, but the ones who smell like dog piss. »

But he still didn’t had the occasion to talk you much so he don’t know if you found him scary or cool. Shougo return at home in his thoughts, questioning himself but also trying to find if it was even worth it to risk a punition if he can just make that stupid card for you. What would it cost him anyways ? Even if you don’t like him he couldn’t care less because all other day of the year he know he’s freaking cool !

He take some pen and start writing on some random paper a little dirty on side because of his biscuits. He writes quickly and draw things he thinks appropriate for a St-valentine or rather things he like like cars, airplanes and other boy stuff. He tried to draw Naruto but he did look like nothing like him.

If you would appreciate his gesture he didn’t know and it kinda made him feel nervous but when time has come to give you your card he make it seem like it was nothing. You were quite surprised to receive something from him even if you didn’t had anything prepared for him in exchange as you barely talked to him before, just knowing he was a trouble maker you didn’t had the energy to follow around in dumbassery but oh well it could have been a worst admirer : or at least you thought once you read the front page.

« I don’t like you or anytheing butt you’re kinda cut some hoe.»

Because it has been made at home, obviously no one took the time to watch for their languages mistakes but Shougo…

He must be trolling right ? You can’t tell as he is smiling like an idiot and you swap that smile on his face by slapping him so fiercely.

MIDORIMA SHINTAROU —

Shintarou was far from being forced to do these cards or at least not really, he was watching the Tv with his dad when Oha asa predictions came during a film break what was unusual but not the most relevant detail, it said Cancers are the most unlucky sign for st-valentine and to break all misfortune they had to be honest with their feelings for once : showing genuine affectionate for persons they love. How embarrassing it was to be looked by his father and having to admit he does appreciate some peoples besides his family and having to sort out your name from his mouth so loudly and publicly for his father to help him.

Fortunately they had some extra st-valentine chocolate box in the fridge somehow and cartoned paper for Shintarou to express all he have to say. It was with a mischievous smile his father let him go to school while he was all nervous and a chaotic walking mess. He must not hide from you for him to not get strike by evil misfortune but it was also so hard to collect the courage to confess anything to you as even yesterday he was mocking the st-valentine.

« Too much chocolate is bad for your health anyway.. »

He said to his friends, in that well known presumptuous tone of his. Then here is in front of you now, the person no one would ever have suspected Shintarou to have a crush on because of how mean, arrogant and competitive he would be with you.

He admired your intelligence, the way how you would always look cool no matter the situation and cleaner than other kids who amuse themselves by sniffing floor and stuff. He liked how your friends would braid your hair and how it would highlight your face making you seem elegant and by gratitude you would put flowers in their hair. It was also the way you can speak so clearly and like a grown up sometimes just like him. Having multiples interests and things to say… Just the right person but he was not prepared to things like crushes yet even at 10. He was too reserved and uninterested by it because of basketball…

« Y/n, please accept this… »

Was the only words he managed to mutters as you have to see his flustered expression behind his glasses, you spot his all red ears and laugh a little until you can read what is in written in the card.

« I think you’re compatible with Cancers ? » « I really carrot about you. I love you a whole watt.»

Scared, you start trembling a little, not knowing to what he was referring by « cancers » if it was what you thought : not only you developed cancer but multiples ? You will die tomorrow ??! You started crying not knowing how to feel about it but cried even harder once you remembered Shintarou’s dad is a doctor.

« Y/n… Is there something wrong..? »

He genuinely don’t know what is happening and try to comfort you like he can by hugging you but then everyone came and cried out loud you two are marrying what led into a marriage ceremony… Shintarou wanted to stop all of this but everyone was throwing snow at y’all wishing both of you happinesses and organizing the ceremony.

« We’re not getting married ? What is all of this ?

– Shht. I’m the mayor and I decided you two are getting married on St-Valentine, alright ?

– Shintarou please marry me, I need to be married before I die…

– Die ???!

– You wrote I have cancer in my card ? »

Were you not so smart as he thought or were you just unfamiliar with astrology ? he felt his soul leaving his body now having to clear the misunderstanding after going through your marriage.

KUROKO TETSUYA —

« to Y/n : What you call a vampire sweetheart’s ? His ghoul-friend »

Said Kuroko with a mic in the hands, their teacher ordered them all to write St-Valentine cards but instead of everyone offering their gift to their cherished person they decided to organize a stand up for everyone to publicly announce their crush to be more original. Pushing Kuroko in that awkward situation in wich he had to say your name first and then read the composent of his card.

« You’re the Apple to my heart. »

What was sure was that he didn’t lack of precense now , but his puns… How he wish all of this would be private like it should have been. His pale skin is just red now as he look into your eyes while reading what was supposed to be funny poetry full of anime references as he know you’re fan of this, like him.

« Please bury me alive now »

He says as he quit the scenery and that he have to face you.

« Don’t worry Kuroko. My card is almost as embarrassing. » you told him but you’re pretty sure you didn’t reach his level or at least you hope.

« But if you want to know, I really liked the ghoul joke. Am I your vampire sweetheart ? »

You thought it was smooth but you get all flustered seeing Kuroko smile and trying to hide his little laugh. How ingrate of him when you were trying to share a little of his shame.

Kuroko didn’t knew from how long he felt those butterflies in his stomach when he was around you and it wasn’t important to him to know but now he felt even more great knowing that you two were caring of each other’s and close enough to dedicate each other’s card to the other making him feel unique and appreciated. How he wish that instead of ridiculizing himself in front of everyone he would have been doing cute and agreable poesy for you to fully get that he was not just being nice an polite but genuinely sharing his feelings.

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jafndaegur · 3 years

Text

Things Said and Unsaid

Jumin Han x MC

Mystic Messenger

a/n: now that the zine is long past, here is my story from the Garden of Eden Zine:) Enjoy!

Jumin twisted the flower stem between his fingers as he reclined further against the chair. Waxy pink petals mocked him in a way that he did not appreciate and the bright bloom weighed heavily, leaning forward in his careless grasp. He rested his chin on the back of his free hand, temple twitching at the not-quite perfect amount of wine for a buzz but enough for a headache.

MC's voice still floated in the air as if she'd just called about her final report for the RFA event.

"All of the flower arrangements are ready for the party," her voice was stilted over the phone even as she tried to be chipper.

Jumin wondered if she felt uncomfortable around him with everything said and done. "They'll look beautiful I'm sure." He reassured.

The pause and silence between them felt unnatural and constricting.

"What did you pick? For the bouquets." He finally peeped out, his voice rocking with concern. Had they always struggled with communicating? The memory of being able to freely converse with her, speaking of any little trivial thing that came to mind an easy and amusing way for him to pass the time. Surely he hadn’t ruined things so thoroughly during the time she had spent at the penthouse.

MC’s airy and pitched laugh reached his ears in a painful display of her discomfort. "That'd ruin the surprise."

And what a surprise it'd been.

Jumin had been eager, and even anxious, in awaiting her arrival to the party. Afterall they all owed its renewed existence to her. And he himself owed so much to her too. When they had parted the night before, V rightfully helping her return to the apartment, it had been with a tender apology. She'd embraced him—held him close and promised things would work out the way they should.

He wasn’t sure if it had been a lie or her convincing herself. Perhaps some odd adherration of both to her conviction.

The day of the party came, but MC did not.

It was obvious that Seven had hesitated his journey before finally making the reluctant trek to Jumin with a piece of paper in one hand and a tied bouquet of flowers in the other.

The pink camellia had seemed so bright and vibrant in the light of the ballroom. And even now in Jumin's hand, standing stark and vibrant, the bloom dazzled against the rest of his muted parlor decor. It smiled and flourished, and yet here he sat more dejected and more confused than ever.

Somehow, he managed his way back to the kitchen, where the rest of his bouquet lay abandoned on his dining room table—scattered petals and bulbs strewn across the wood top due to his careless toss of the bunch. He had been angry and frustrated at the time, but now he felt guilt tugging at the span of his ribs when he thought of the disregard he gave to her last gift to him. The note lay innocently next to it, as if trying to appease him with the gentle slope of MC's handwriting.

I've meant everything Jumin. Said and unsaid. I don't regret anything and I hope you won't either. But we both need this to move forward, I think this is what's right...I hope you'll see that. I've left you the best.

-MC

Among the flowers, pink carnations were the easiest to pick out. The petals crimped and wavy, and the blossoms themselves the most commonplace and plain. And yet MC had made sure the flowers had stayed nestled close amongst bushels of goldenrod. Another odd pick for a formal party. His eye for detail made things easy to recognize that beautiful hardworking and problem-solving touch MC made with every deliberate and precise choice. He knew that much. From the sorrel that warmly held everything together, to the pink camellias blushing prettily at the center wrapped in forget-me-nots.

In times such as these Jumin realized he had one consultant he could count on, a source where information passed easily from itself to him. Where he could learn unhindered and without bias about the best that MC left behind for him. Because surely, she did not simply mean the best flowers from the bunch. She was too clever for that.

He found himself at a library, in the area with the farmer's almanacs and horticulture how-tos. It was an aisle he frequented when seeking answers to inquiries about his vineyard.

Heavy and cumbersome, he found an encyclopedic tome titled Whispers from the Flowers. It was an odd name but upon opening it he found satisfaction knowing that his assumption on its topic had been correct. The flower language. Something not in a million years he imagined himself researching. But for MC, he would do anything. And his beloved left behind one very, very important clue. "Things said and unsaid." And he hoped it was more than a mere sentimental way of saying she left him behind regardless of whether or not she was able to relay all she wished to.

Jumin found the index at the back of the book, searching for sorrel first. MC had meticulously ensured that the green and stringy plant entwined itself around the main bouquet like a cradle. It was hardly a flower and yet the vibrancy of it added life and color outside of the thematic pink hues of the other blooms. Affection. Sorrel is the gateway to confessions and the key to unlocking the heart—it lays bare the raw and pure emotion of those who offer it. His fingers danced over the words, tracing the letters with the faintest of smiles. MC's disappearance seemed like a rather large lack of said-affection, but he knew there had to be further explanation. And all answers resided within the little puzzle she had set aside just for him.

Because she knew and understood he had every capability to solve it. He hoped.

Encouragement. Good fortune. Goldenrod offers the same blade with two edges. One of well wishes and the other of outstretched hands. It is an easy flower to convey both farewells and prosperity.

Jumin’s breath curled within his chest and his fingers hovered. “Farewells.” It was a mutter, something that he dare not speak more than a whisper. MC left behind hide nor hair of her existence. The memory of her laugh and gilded eyes were the only proof he could offer. Yet somewhere amongst the agonizing pull in his chest as he read the summary over and over again, he feared that she had truly meant her goodbye hidden within these flowers.

He knew his own faults had greatly weighed upon her decision to leave with Jihyun that day. But had he really ruined things so much that she chose never to see any of them again to escape him? Were all affections between them nullified because of his shortcomings.

Breath hitched and his fists clenched the book. Memories of true love. Forget-me-nots are the staple flower of sweet love. Anyone gifting their sweetheart with these iconic blooms know every moment spent with their true love will be cherished and treasured. Jumin’s brow furrowed. Contradictory. This was all so illogical and contradictory. If he had not just recently gone through a week-long anxiety attack and now the loss of the woman he had planned to propose to, he’d chalk these meanings up to happenstance and throw the book into the closest recycling bin. But everything said had been meant. And everything unsaid had been meant. He needed for his own sanity and for his own comprehension to know if these flowers truly enveloped MC’s feelings for him. Or if he was just a fool trying to pry into a love that was never his to keep.

“I’ll never forget you.”

A shudder. The words flowed past his lips as he read the phrase mechanically. “I’ll never forget you.” Each utterance a tremor to his heart as the walls constricted and shook.

I’ll never forget you. Pink carnations are easily the most misused and the most misunderstood. Believed to be a simpleton’s flower, the meaning behind this bloom is often lost due to being handed out of context. It’s beautiful and pastel color can often be misleading. It is a mournful flower, often handed at the cusp of goodbye. A beautiful tendril to remember a fleeting yet vibrant romance.

The search through the index for the last flower was a trembling one. Jumin’s fingers skimmed the crisp paper gentle against his skin as he tried to account his increasing pulse to apprehension or suspense. He was approaching the last piece of MC’s riddle and good or bad—real or not—he had been able to come to some conclusion about their parting. About their romance. About them.

His vision blurred and he felt the world spin.

A note had been tucked away close to the spine where the pages parted. It was a small envelope, no bigger than an index card. “Jumin” had been scripted neatly on the front, and on the back, there was a little flower drawn over the edge of the opening flap. He recognized MC’s handwriting anywhere. Impulse struck a chord with his nerves and he plucked the note quickly before forcing himself to slow down. He wanted to finish this mission.

Pink camellias. Longing for you.

No more waiting. Jumin dropped the book and tore the envelope open. His heart pitter-pattered and he double took the gentle slope of that oh-so familiar handwriting. The gentle sweep and slant of her penmanship was obvious the moment he gazed upon the ink. There before him, tiny and hopeful, was a phone number. He'd arrived at the end of her puzzle with a growing smile, shaking his head with a fond chuckle. His finger brushed the new note.

"You can be greedy, you know," he whispered reverently. "Around me don't worry. Whatever fears or struggles we may have to face, we'll figure them out together. You don't have to hold back for my sake or for yours."

He pulled two business cards from his wallet, placing one in the forget-me-knots section and the other in the section about pink camellias. Satisfied, he closed the book and walked to the front desk where the head librarian sat typing away on the computer. Noticing his approach, they gave him a warm smile. Holding out their hand, the librarian inclined their head.

"Got everything you need?"

Jumin nodded and handed the book over. "I will soon enough. In the meantime, could you place this on hold? A friend is going to pick it up."

"Of course," the librarian nodded. "Name and number."

"Han MC," Jumin decided with a touch of humor, a welcomed break to his multi-day anxiety high, before reciting the number from the note.

The person assured him that MC would be notified and that the book would be on hold for the next twenty-four hours. He bowed his head slightly and graciously thanked them before heading to the car where Driver Kim awaited. There was so little time to get ready but he wanted to make the most of this anticipation that clung to his lungs with baited breath.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme jumin han #jumin han x mc #mysme jumin

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

Bodyguard - Six

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky X Politician!Reader

Summary: As a young and controversial politician, you face some opposition. After a death threat is made and your security is at risk, you agree to get a bodyguard. You don’t expect him to be the most irritating and attractive man on the planet. With a history so deep and twisted you never thought you’d figure it out, a terrible corporation is determined to take you out of the political picture; using any means necessary. The only question is, how far is James willing to go to ensure your safety?

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Injuries, Violence, Language.

Word Count: 1.5K

A/n: Um hi it’s only been like a year or something haha oops. We’re gonna have one more instalment to this series!

INSPIRED BY THE NETFLIX ORIGINAL: BODYGUARD

SERIES MASTERLIST

~*~

You watch as Bucky, Natasha, and Steve argue over what’s best for you to do. Bucky is adamant that you stay in the safe house, away from those trying to kill you, while Natasha argues that putting you in someplace where they can get you could lead them to get answers about who wants you and why they want you dead. Steve, the poor man, is trying to play mediator between the two hotheads.

“What are they expecting me to do?” You ask suddenly, getting the attention of the three.

Bucky looks at you with pursed lips.

“You tried to come clean on national television and they thwarted that. I assume that they think the message got across.” You nod slowly, thinking that over.

“So why don’t I do something that they wouldn’t expect? If they think I’ll lay low, I should do the opposite, right?”

An idea starts to take shape in your mind.

“I could make a public announcement from the safe house. Take a video and send it to every news station in the country to get my message across. Then, HYDRA will be exposed and I’ll still be safe here.” Natasha cocks her head to the side, eyebrows raised as she ponders it.

“Nat, no,” Bucky says instantly. She holds up a hand to silence him.

“We could have Stark secure the network. Make sure that no one can trace the video back here. She’d be safe and HYDRA would be exposed. It works.” You nod, happy that she’s agreed with you. Bucky sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“There’s no way I’m arguing with you two, is there?” You both shake your heads and he almost cracks a smile. Almost.

“Hello, all. I am coming to you from an undisclosed location to give you an update on the threat to America. It was speculated that the terrorists were from outside of the country, but I can confidently confirm that they are American citizens. They work for a terrorist organization known as HYDRA, and they’ve been operating since the 1930′s. Their goal, as of right now, is to strike fear in the hearts of the citizens and wage a war on the Middle East. We must not give in to them. I have been attacked many times, but I will not give in to fear. HYDRA will be stopped and they will be stopped soon. Do not engage if you see them. This is a message to the citizens of America and the terrorists of HYDRA. HYDRA will be stopped. And justice will be served.”

You rewatch the video one last time before sending it off, a weight lifting off of your shoulders while one settles on Bucky’s.

“It’ll be fine, James,” you whisper, taking his hand in yours. He sighs and shakes his head. “I have a bad feeling about this.” You wave off his concerns and stand up, stretching your legs and pulling him to his feet.

“Well... I think I know how to get your mind off of it.” He’s following you up the stairs to the master bedroom and you can’t help but giggle, all the while Tony Stark and Natasha are taking all preventative measures they can online, not wanting the video to be tracked back to the safe house.

Steve has called back up, to get extra security around the house, and sits in his car outside, watching the surroundings for anything suspicious.

~*~

You climb out of bed, grinning at Bucky’s sleeping figure. Rather than disturb him, you get yourself cleaned and dressed then head downstairs to make yourself some tea. The house, surprisingly, is empty, except for a note on the kitchen table written in Natasha’s neat handwriting.

‘Following up on a lead. Be back soon. Call if anything happens.’ You purse your lips and take a big breath in, hoping that this will all be over soon so that you can come out of hiding.

As you’re pouring the boiled water into your mug, a hand is coming up and covering your mouth. You go to drop the kettle, hoping the loud noise wakes Bucky, but a second set of hands grabs it and places it back on the counter.

You’re silently dragged from the house, tears in your eyes as fear spreads through your veins like wildfire.

Then you’re being shoved roughly into the backseat of a car, hands bound behind your back and a gag in your mouth.

You kick against the windows, hoping to break them and give yourself some way to escape, but one of your captors jumps to the back with you while the other takes off speeding down the road and away from safety.

The drive is long, with too many turns to count, and you feel yourself losing hope.

They finally pull up to a large house in the middle of an upper-class neighbourhood, the car sliding into the garage.

The gag is pulled from your mouth and then you’re being wrestled inside the house.

If you weren’t so focused on fighting the men holding you, you’d take time to notice how beautiful the house is.

Then you’re being pushed to sit down in a chair in the kitchen. You glare at the people holding you captive, angry and slightly terrified.

“You, my dear, are far smarter than you seem. Smarter than your father was.” You recognize that voice, and the fact that you do sends a shiver down your spine.

“President Pierce,” you state, not turning as the man walks into the room. He chuckles and sits down across from you, a smile on his face.

“You know, I thought you were dead for a while. Until that video came out. Stark is fast, but not fast enough. We tracked it down and found you. And look at that, you’re hardly surprised to see me here, are you?” You shake your head. You never had a good feeling about the president.

“Well, I’m not going to argue with you and tell you that I’m a good guy. Women like you can never see the bigger picture.” You roll your eyes at him,

“What bigger picture?! You’re trying to start a war with innocent people!” He chuckles and pats your cheek. “Oil. Oil is money. And money is power. Once we control the Middle East, we can start taking on Africa. And then Asia. Then Europe. Until the whole world belongs to us.” You shake your head, disgusted by his greed.

“You won’t get away with this. Everyone knows it’s HYDRA behind the terrorist attacks.” He clicks his tongue.

“Yes, that’s true. But all I need to do is make a convincing video of you confessing to lying, admit that you’re working for the bad guys, and then kill you. You’re a pawn in a bigger game than you know. And you’ve played your part beautifully. I’ll admit, you’re stronger than I thought, but even you can break.”

You open your mouth to speak when suddenly your phone starts ringing.

One of Pierce’s men hands the phone to him and he shrugs. “It would be suspicious if you left without your phone.” A gun is pressed to your temple and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“You’ll tell them that everything is fine and you just went out to grab a few things from the store,” Pierce instructs, accenting the call and pressing the phone to your ear.

“(Y/n)? Where the hell are you?!” Bucky’s frantic voice asks. You let out a shaky breath before answering.

“I’m fine. I just went to grab a few things from the store. You can chillax. And make sure you tell Sam to chillax too, okay? I know he specifically will worry so make sure you tell him to chillax.” He hesitates for a moment, suspicious and worried.

“I’ll tell him.” You feel your eyes start to sting.

“I’ll be back soon. I love you, James.” This is what really tips him off to something being wrong.

“I love you too.” He doesn’t hang up right away, he waits and listens to see if there’s anything to give away where you are.

One of the goons takes your phone from Pierce as he begins talking, hanging up after he’s spoken a few words.

“Steve!” Bucky shouts, dropping his phone and looking for the blond. Steve, Nat, and Sam hurry into the room, each with matching looks of concern on their faces.

“She’s with Pierce,” He says. The other agents look confused before Bucky turns to Sam.

“She kept telling me to tell you to ‘chillax’. I don’t know what that means but she said it more than once.” Sam’s eyes widen. “I told her that if she’s ever in trouble to say ‘chillax’. As a code word.” Bucky jumps to his feet.

“Fuck! I knew it! I fucking knew Pierce was with them. He’s gotta be.”

“Wait... you think that the President...” Natasha trails off and Bucky nods.

“Pierce is working with HYDRA.”

#Bucky x reader bodyguard au #bodyguard #bodyguard au #bodyguard bucky #bodyguard!bucky x reader #bodyguard bucky x politician reader #politician au #bodyguard!bucky x Politician!reader #bucky x reader au #Bucky Barnes x reader au #bucky x reader

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Note

Please tell me there’s a part 3 to amnesia ethan? This is too heartbreakingly good -ohdolans

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: angst, language

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

"I'm not breaking up with you." Ethan states, making Y/N frown. She sits up, abandoning his chest with a puzzled look she simply couldn't hide.

"I'm sorry, were you planning to?!" Her voice is pitchy, enough to show the underlying anxiety he caused with his words and enough to make him chuckle as he props himself up.

"No. That's what I'm saying, I'm not breaking up with you. Ever. Even if this whole thing goes to shit, I'm never going to pull the cord on us. You'll have to do it because I-I can't."

Raising an eyebrow, she gives him a pointed look, "That's not fair. I don't want to break up with you." Using air quotes, she adds, "Ever", in the same tone Ethan used.

"Well, we'll just have to get married then." Ethan shrugs, plopping back down as she playfully rolls her eyes.

"Guess so. Grayson's gonna be living with us longer than the kids." Joking, she lays back down beside Ethan, ignoring the surprised glances he sent her way.

"We're having kids?!"

"Might as well if we get married." Pecking his cheek, she nestles back onto his chest, enjoying the sound of his heart beating. She doesn't miss when his voice sounds in a whisper.

"I'd like that."

Arms folded, she stood outside Ethan's room, unsure what to do. It's been a few days since she saw him last and it ended in tears and heartbreak. How many times can a heart break before it's beyond help?

A part of her knows she shouldn't take it personally, his words are coated in venom because he's fighting his inner demons and she's practically a stranger, but another part of her is just as angry and frustrated as he seems to be.

Memory loss? This is what marks their end? It's horrible to day, but it feels like he died and someone else woke up in his body. Ethan she loved is gone and she still can't seem to let it go; let him go.

Licking her lips, she swallows thickly before walking into the room once again. Grayson suggested so, but she was reluctant. Ethan's unpredictable at best, even with Grayson, but he's downright cruel to Y/N. At least she percieved it that way.

"I'm really not in the mood today." Ethan mutters, his voice low and tone unmistakably disgruntled.

"Wow, this is a new record. One step in and you already want me out." Y/N tried to laugh it off, keeping her tone light.

He turns to her with eyes slightly widened, lips parting as he takes note of her clothes - most notably his Positivity hoodie.

"I didn't know it's you." Ethan admits, licking his lips before turning away and toward the window he's gotten used to staring at. It was the closest connection to the outside world he's had in almost two months.

"I'm sorry I ran out the other day." She speaks up, determined not to let him wreck her mood. She didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing he said he didn't realize it was here - would he not still say the same if he did?

"I was being a dick. It's understandable." Ethan glances at her, realizing she'd come closer to him than before. He couldn't help but notice the wary look in her eyes, aware he's the reason why.

"You were reacting to a stranger inserting herself in your life. That's understandable too." She sighs, moving to the wall just inches away from the bed. She leans back on it, folding her arms as her eyes fall on the door, lessening her anxiety. Knowing where the exit is somehow made it easier, but also sad. She never had to think about an exit strategy with Ethan before.

"Except you're not a stranger, are you?" Ethan's eyes are fixed on her, taking every little change in her expression to heart. He didn't want to make her cry again. The sight of her tears left him in pain and just because he didn't remember her didn't mean some part of him didn't care for her, deeply.

Her lips part with his question, eyes meeting his so quickly Ethan's heart jumped. She's taken aback, hopeful and he knows he made a mistake again. He should have worded it better instead of giving her hope he remembered something. Truth be told, he had fuzzy memories of a girl's laugh echoing in his head but he didn't know for sure if it's hers. He doesn't seem to be capable of making her laugh.

"You left a bag here last time and I snooped. I saw the scrapbooks." Scratching his eyebrow, Ethan continues, "I recognized my handwriting on some of the pages. It's so fucking weird."

"Which part?" Y/N tries, afraid she's going to say something wrong and he'd stop talking. It's the first time he's the one keeping the conversation flowing.

"All of it. I read these thing and watch our videos and photos and it's so clear I was smitten with you and then I can't fucking remember a thing. It's like I don't even know who I am anymore."

Wetting her lips, Y/N sighs. "But you do. You're still Ethan Dolan. You are a brother, a son, a creative pain in the ass. Your mind is something to admire, your sarcasm something to enjoy, and while you may be confused now, I still see the man I fell in love with. You're kind and funny and so sweet. You make everyone's lives better just by existing."

Holding out his right hand, Ethan's eyes flickered to Y/N's who focused on his hand with wonder. He could tell she was uncertain about what she should do, but she reached for his hand anyway.

Her shaky fingers run across his palm and they're icy cold to touch. Her bracelet passes the tips of his fingers as hers curl around his wrist. It's impossible to ignore the number 8 and E charms on her bracelet. They signified him. To Y/N, Ethan was her lucky charm. He always will be.

"Why does touching you make me feel like everything will be alright yet your presence here makes me wanna scream for you to leave?" Ethan speaks softly, quietly as if she wasn't meant to hear him, but she does. It pains her to hear his conflicting emotions, even more so knowing they're just the tip of a very deep running iceberg.

"What about my presence unnerves you the most?"

Pulling her hand up to his face, Ethan plants a tender kiss on the back of it, bringing goosebumps to her skin.

"The expectations. I'm supposed to be the Ethan you love and I'm scared I'm not him anymore. I'm scared I never will be and that I'll lose whatever this was between us and it clearly meant a lot to me then." Pausing, he traces his thumb along her wrist, wistfully flicking the letter E.

"It's also the pain and love I see on you. It's like I stole something from you I can never give back."

Sniffling, Y/N swallows thickly. Ethan looks up, seeing tears brimming in her eyes. "See? I always make you cry."

Shaking her head, Y/N giggles. "These are happy tears because I see and hear the Ethan you think is lost."

And that's when Ethan drops her hand. The laugh echoing really is hers. The giggle confirms it. "What if I never get my memories back? What if I don't fall in love with you again?"

Closing her eyes, the tears brimming before fall. "I don't know."

Part 4

#dolan twins #ethan dolan #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan fic

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archaeologysucks · 4 years

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Sorry to bother you, but do you have any advice for someone who is trying to trace their family history? I'm having such a hard time figuring out where to start, and you seem to have found so many cool things in your genealogy research. Thank you, have a lovely day! :)

The best place to start is from what you know, and what other people in your family know: names, dates, places for your parents, grandparents, great-grandparents. Those are the clues that are going to help you “level up” to finding the next generation.

Get yourself some genealogy software to help keep track of information and start building your tree. I don’t really have any recommendations here. I use Reunion, which is Mac-specific, and a little pricy for a beginner, but I know there are some pretty good free options out there.

Sign up for FamilySearch.org. It’s free and has a lot of primary sources, including most US census records, available and searchable. FindAGrave.com is another really useful free resource. This hobby doesn’t have to be expensive. You can wait to sign up for paid services like Ancestry.com until you know what you’re doing. That being said, Ancestry.com does have some very handy free message boards for specific surnames and places, where you can go with questions when you encounter research roadblocks. Google and Wikipedia can also be helpful for finding out the history of specific places.

Take other people’s research with a grain of salt. Always look for original documents to confirm information. Most people who pursue genealogy as a hobby are not professional historians, and they are not always diligent about checking their research, or knowledgeable about interpreting documents. I encounter wrong and messy research all the time, especially involving individuals with the same names being confused for one another.

Keep it manageable. Don’t try to go back to the beginning of time on any one branch. Remember that for every generation back you go, you double your number of ancestors, and it gets even more chaotic when you take into account all their children and other spouses. By about 700 years ago, you are descended from basically everyone who was alive at that time, in the cultures you descend from, several times over. The further back you go, the greater the likelihood that someone else has already done the work for you, and a note or link pointing to their research is a lot less work than trying to input a hundred more people into your tree. Collecting photos and family stories about recent generations is a more valuable use of your time than trying to set a world record of names, dates, and places with no historical context. I cut off my own tree at 10 generations (about 1000 ancestors + their children), which is probably still too many. When I do research for other people, I keep it to 6 generations (about 60 ancestors).

Be prepared for research headaches. You’re going to encounter weird spelling, bad handwriting, damaged documents, low-quality scans, poor transcriptions, and languages you probably can’t read, all of which are going to make searching for specific information and individuals harder. You’ll learn how to get creative with searches and work-arounds over time. Sometimes you’re going to come to dead ends, where the information just isn’t conclusive, or hasn’t survived. It’s frustrating. Put a pin in it and come back to it later.

Be aware that most genealogy websites are run by the church of Latter Day Saints (Mormons). They have a tradition of collecting the dead, and ceremonially re-baptizing them into their church. It is a practice that many people find disrespectful and problematic, so it’s worth knowing about before you consider posting your own findings online.

This hobby is way easier today than it was 20 or 30 years ago, when you had to send away for documents, hoping that they were the ones you were looking for, and waiting weeks for turn-around time in the mail. I can find out more in one day than my grandmother could find out in months or even years of diligent research!

Good luck!

#genealogy #how to #revolutionarytea

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soundofseventeen · 5 years

Text

Kiss Me Slowly (Yoon Jeonghan)

Happy birthday @babiesanshine!! Gina, I hope you know we love you very much here and we’re so lucky to call you a friend!!(Thanks to your miscs, I was able to piece together your birthday and I had time to put this together!) Enjoy your day, my love bc it’s all for you!

Inspo

Word count: 2558

Jeonghan at your front door at a quarter past two in the morning rarely meant good news. Well it’s not like it meant bad news either; it was more of you losing sleep because he showed up at an unreasonable hour and left at an even unreasonable hour. But he was an idol with a schedule more hectic than yours, so you were always happy to see him even if it meant getting looks from your nosy neighbors who thought you were lonely just as he was leaving at the crack of the following morning. However, the only thing wrong at the moment besides you needing to be up in a few hours, was the fact that it was pouring outside and he was soaked to the bone.

“Are you even aware of the weather...or the time?” you scolded him when you found a clean towel to dry himself off.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I feel sorry for everyone who’s out there.” He chuckled, not really caring that he outed himself.

You rolled your eyes. “How was the game show?” you asked, leading him into the kitchen. You opened the fridge and pulled out a beer, which he declined.

“It was fun, but long. And I didn’t feel like staying home yet. So here I am.” He smiled brightly as if he didn’t have any other responsibility except being there with you.

“Don’t you have dance practice tomorrow?” Or later today? You were too tired to make the correction.

“I’ll have you know that- yes.”

“Okay. Go shower.”

“What?”

“Go. Shower.” You took out the remains of your dinner leftovers, and proceeded to heat them up. Jeonghan was still drying his hair and somehow the fluorescents of the kitchen light accentuated his features, making him look angelic. And it’s not that you didn’t like it, but you hated how the makeup artists whitewashed his skin tone and made him look like something he wasn’t. And this Jeonghan scared you sometimes. Sometimes it felt like if you touched him, he’d disappear. The raindrops that he managed to miss slid down his face, exposing the slivers of the real Jeonghan underneath.

“If you get sick, I won’t visit you until you’re better and you know I’ll leave my doors locked.” Which was true. The germaphobe in you rarely let you do anything when your friends were sick.

“I know,” he chuckled. “Do you have clothes for me?”

“I’ll throw them into my dryer so they’re warm. And I’m reheating some food so you’re gonna eat and you’re staying here so don’t even bother arguing.”

He left once you promised to leave some dry towels in your room as well and you went about your business, seeing that it’d be a couple of hours until sleep could grace you with her presence again. You rummaged through your cupboard and cabinets until you found what you were looking for. You took out a small pot and filled it with water, placing it on the stove next to dinner and proceeded to look for some of Jeonghan’s clothes that you swore he left sometime during his last visit, which proved to be challenging.

You had met Jeonghan sometime in his predebut days when you had already established a secure future for yourself but it had amazed you that he rarely spent nights with you when you became friends, only staying when it was too late or too ugly outside. (He had enough common sense to know when to leave but he was human and forgot from time to time.)

Either way you invested in a pull out couch in your living room which you fixed up for him once you found old pj's and threw them into the dryer along with another towel. (You would’ve given him the spare bedroom but you turned that into your personal library and office room.) And once you heard the water shut off, you ran to the dryer and took out everything and placed them in your bedroom. No way you were gonna walk in on him when he wasn’t decent.

“Han?” you knocked on the bathroom door gently, “I’m leaving your towel hanging on the knob and you can get dressed in my room. The food’s almost ready too.”

His muffled, “Thank you,” sounded and you walked back to the kitchen in time to see the food hot enough to consume.

You lowered the temperature of the near boiling water so it wouldn’t be ready so quickly. You opened another cupboard and removed a plate before opening the curtain to enjoy the view. Living in the heart of Seoul city wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be. Much like the streets of Los Angeles, it remained busy day in and day out, and if it wasn’t for the mostly soundproof room, you never would’ve considered moving here, but it had become your home rather quickly. The fourteenth floor had the perfect view of everything you loved. Your favorite part of the whole place was the skyline you often ogled, even on a rainy night like now. It seemed cold enough that the condensation fogged up the glass and you shivered when your fingertips touched the window to wipe it away.

You sighed deeply, not sure why nostalgia was hitting you at the moment. It could’ve been the late night or the warmth of the room, but you missed something. A tap on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you remembered that you had a guest and you turned off the stove off.

“Do I get to know what you’re thinking?” Jeonghan asked as softly as the night as you served him a plate.

“I want a tattoo of this skyline.” Which was true. It had been crossing your mind lately to get it somewhere on your body. You wondered why no one ever considered turning it into the eighth wonder of the world. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

You turned around to find him running a towel through his hair, and not a hint of makeup on him. This was your favorite Jeonghan; the one with tan skin kissed under the sun and purple bags under his eyes from not getting enough sleep (well, you didn’t like either but that wasn’t what you meant) with a little bit of acne on his cheek from whenever he had eaten too many peanuts and all the moles and freckles that made him Jeonghan. This was what made him look more human and when you felt better about calling him your friend. You felt more comfortable around him when he wasn’t Seventeen’s angel. But that was the price of having him in your life.

“Then get it,” he shrugged. “I was thinking about getting an eyebrow piercing.” He sat at the table as you came with two plates since you figured he wouldn’t eat if you didn’t.

“Are you really?”

“Nah, that’s not my thing, but Joshua was thinking about a new piercing soon. If you two want, you can set up an appointment soon and then I can tag along.”

You nodded, thinking about it. “We’ll see when we all have time. Do you want something to drink?”

He shook his head. “What time do you have to be at work?” He raised his chopsticks and tasted the noodles, slurping them eagerly when his taste buds agreed with the flavor.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t think I’ll sleep a lot anymore.” You smiled a little as he inhaled his dinner, not sure how someone could eat so happily.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I should’ve gone straight home, huh?”

It was your turn to shake your head. “No. I always tell you that my house is open to you no matter when.” Also true. You weren’t ungrateful that he wanted to spend time with you instead of going straight to bed like a normal human being, but you couldn’t deny that a head’s up would’ve been nice. “Thank you for coming. It’s always good to see you.”

“I like coming. It always feels like home.” It stayed quiet while you finished your meals, occasionally looking at each other and smiling. “If you’re tired, you can go to sleep. I can clean up,” he offered.

“I’ll be fine. I can always use a sick day if I want to. You should sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” he protested.

You scooted your chair back, a knowing smile on your lips as you stood up to clear the plates. “Figures. I made you some tea to help you.” You brought back a mug. “Here. It’s still hot so be careful.” As predicted, even with his shower, Jeonghan’s hands were cold as you handed him the mug and you accidentally brushed fingers. “Are you cold? I can turn on the heater.”

“I’m fine,” he smiled as he stood up and decided to go to his comfy pull out bed. “Do you have an extra charger I can borrow?”

You couldn’t help but feel how domestic everything felt which once again you blamed on the late night. He was especially close for comfort and if you reached behind you, you could find his hand and hold it, hold him. But you shook the thought off really quickly. Yoon Jeonghan was a friend, nothing more. You invited him into your room and he sat on your bed patiently while you searched.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan curiously eyed a scrapbook that you left out on the bed and he opened it, revealing bits and pieces of who you were and what crossed your mind. He traced the designs of the washi tape you used, memorizing your handwriting and marveling at how colorful your mind was. He frowned a little when he came across the words in your primary language, frustrated that he couldn’t decipher them.

He didn’t realize how much or rather how little he knew about your home life before you moved here. All he knew was that you moved to escape memories, and Jeonghan didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t tell if the people you were posing with were with friends, family or even fans, but they must’ve been important if you did this.

“Those were the days,” you told him quietly, twirling the charger in your hands. “Sometimes I remember home wasn’t such a bad place.” You pointed to the faces, giving them a name and who they were to you. You turned the pages carefully, revealing everything about your past life, torn between being honest and keeping him on a need to know basis. “You know, when I got engaged, it seemed like I could finally be someone my family could be proud of and I thought I’d be happy.”

“E-Engaged?” He wasn’t sure if he heard you clearly. He frowned, not understanding. “You never told me you were married.” You were so young to begin with; he couldn’t imagine you feeling old enough to go through something so...life changing.

You wanted to scoff, but you held it in. “I wasn’t. He...uh, ran off the day of the wedding.” It was a blow to your ego and to your heart. “He was the one who proposed and made sure we had everything to go.” You took a deep breath. “When I got a hold of him, he was just leaving the airport in Taiwan. That was the last time I ever heard from him.”

“But you...you seem so...and you’re just so...how? Why?”

“I guess I’ll never know,” you said a little too bitterly. “I was so angry, so embarrassed, so hurt. Everywhere I turned, I heard the whispers and felt the pity. God, it was too much. And one day, I just packed my shit and left and didn’t tell anyone.”

At that he chuckled a little, his hand tentatively reaching for your hair and touching it carefully. “It must’ve been a shock when they turned on the TV or went on Facebook one day and saw you onstage, huh?”

“At first, I wanted him to remember me, make sure he never forgot who he did this to,” you admitted. “And then, I just stopped caring. Doing this now, it’s only for me.” You stayed quiet, refusing to not tell him that once you met him and saw him (and his friends) trying to achieve his dreams, you forgot about your vengeance...even if you were successful with it. “I’m petty sometimes, I guess.”

“I think I would’ve done the same thing.” Jeonghan stopped talking after that, letting your words absorb into his brain and wrap themselves around his head. In a way, it made sense why you were so private about everything. He hoped that you made peace with the past and were looking for much better things and looking around the room, he could see a little of that. “Is-is your window open?” He asked when he was sure he could hear the rain falling outside. “No wonder it was cold in here!”

“It helps me fall asleep!” You threw one of your pillows at him and opened the curtain to let some of the moonlight seep through. “But if you get sick, I’m sorry.”

“You’re bringing me chicken soup if I do! Man, the boys are gonna kill me if I so much as let out a cough.”

“You’ll be fine,” you assured him. “Just leave Seventeen’s leaders to me.”

Jeonghan picked up his phone from the bed, pressing the power button to check the time. “I guess I should head off to bed. Thanks again for letting me stay the night. I’ll text Joshua.” He got off the bed slowly, thanking you again and silently left the room, shutting the door behind him.

The sadness came out the moment you were alone, but you didn’t do much about it. When the sun would come up in the next few hours, you’d be back to your normal self of living the idol life and belting out the lyrics of your latest single. Tonight though, you curled up under the blankets, hugging your favorite pillow as you tried not to think about anything.

Before you could succumb to the sleep, there was a faint knock on your door. “Yeah?” When he didn’t answer, you sighed and got out of bed to open it. There he stood rubbing his eyes sleepily and you opened the door fully. “What happened Jeonghan?” The moonlight seemed to be the only thing illuminating your place, making him seem ethereal and dreamlike. You couldn’t stop the way your hand went up to cup his cheek. He didn’t disappear like you thought he would, and you were grateful because you didn’t want to be alone.

He sighed at the contact but didn’t say anything, enjoying the moment. He wasn’t sure what this would mean for you in the future but right now, he didn’t want to think about it. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned in to kiss you. He hoped you wouldn’t run away and shut the door on him, just like he hoped that this was scary for you as it was for him.

He held his breath as you leaned closer. He could taste your lips, enjoying the way your thumb caressed his cheek, overall finding comfort in you.

And then you kissed him slowly.

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lvllns · 4 years

Text

you're like the sun that gives the moon its glow

the wayhaven chronicles. mason x sparrow kingston (nb detective). ~1.9k words. rated m for mature implied sex and language mostly. this is fluff. it’s basically “mason traces tattoos and freckles” the fic.

[read on ao3]

Sparrow is stretched out on their bed, arms raised over their head and legs crossed at the ankles. Their eyes are closed, face a mask of serenity, and there’s a part of Mason that takes that as an ego boost considering what they just finished doing.

He watches them silently, gaze flickering from their hands to their toes. Up and down. Over and over. It’s novel to stay like this. To lie here and just look his fill without feeling like he needs to leave. To get out because he doesn’t stick around. That’s all changed recently and it still twists him up inside. Nat keeps giving him looks, and Felix keeps needling him about love and it’s not like that.

It’s not.

Sparrow is just...well, it doesn’t matter.

Because right now, they’re naked atop their sheets, still a little flushed, and it’s ridiculous how endearing the light pink dusting their cheeks is. Mason reaches over and swipes his thumb over the bridge of their nose. They scrunch their face up, lips pulling in a small smile, but they keep their eyes shut. Gently, he cups their cheek. Stares intently at their face. Painted with freckles, clusters coloring across their face and down to the rest of their body. Their nose, Grecian as it is, pulls his attention and he runs the pad of his index finger from between their brows to the tip of their nose.

“Is it still attached to my face?” Their smile grows wide enough to flash teeth.

Mason snorts. “Seems to be.”

They hum. Tilt their head a little to lean into his touch as much as they can, chasing after his hand like a flower seeking the sun.

He pulls away. Slips from them like water to recline on his side, propping his head up on his hand, elbow on the mattress. They shift, wiggle really, and burrow a little deeper into the blankets. Reaching out, he touches a tattoo on their right side, over their ribs. Handwriting he doesn’t recognize. Sparrow freezes, their body going tight and tense for a moment before relaxing again.

“Can I,” he frowns as he pulls his hand away. “I don’t recognize the handwriting.”

They swallow hard. Reach up and press their palm over the tattoo with ease, like they’ve done it a million times and maybe they have. “You wouldn’t,” they whisper, voice tight. Sparrow clears their throat and shakes their head. “It’s my father’s handwriting.”

“Oh,” Mason says. He blinks rapidly a few times, shuffles through everything he knows about Sparrow and their father and realizes it’s very little. Aside from that one conversation, they’ve never spoken about him. He isn’t sure what to say, where to take this from here, and he opens his mouth a few times like a dying fish before they continue.

“It was written on the back of a picture of the two of us, mum had to have taken it.” Their eyes are still closed, they smile again though it’s distinctly sad this time. Mason curls his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out. “I was barely a year old but he was holding me up, spinning me around.”

His eyes drop back to the ink, to the words permanently written on their pale skin. Fly bird, fly. He doesn’t stop himself this time when the urge to touch overwhelms him again. Mason traces the letters with his middle finger, the faintest whisper of a touch. Light and fleeting. Goosebumps erupt on Sparrow’s body, racing down their side.

Something settles over them then. Heavier than it should be, he thinks, after the sex they just had. So he does what he does best and avoids whatever is hanging in the air around them. His touch drifts to the dermals they have, four bright studs along the wings of their hip bones. He presses his thumb against one and quirks a brow, though they don’t see.

“When did you get these?”

They make a thoughtful sound, something low, in the back of their throat. “I was eighteen, they came before the tattoos.”

“Really?” He scoots closer. Pulls a leg up so his knee touches their thigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way sweetheart, but I never would have expected piercings like this on you.” He pokes the stud on their hip again as his gaze flicks up to their face.

“Mason, the most outrageous thing I had ever done before I turned eighteen was dye my hair blue without asking when I was twelve.”

He really doesn’t mean to laugh but he does. It bubbles out of him before he can stop it. Sparrow cracks an eye open and tries to glare at him but it’s disgustingly...something. Fond, Mason thinks, fond and something else that he can’t place.

“Have I told you lately that you’re the worst, sunshine?”

“Last thing I remember you telling me before this conversation is ‘please don’t stop, right there’ so—”

They swat at him, giggling and rolling around until he’s on his back and they’re straddling his waist. He catches their wrists in one hand. Holds them loose enough they could get away but Sparrow only splays their palms on his chest and leans forward, hair hanging like a curtain around them, hazel eyes glittering with something that Mason thinks looks a lot like happiness.

His heart skips a beat before picking up just a little. Happy. Are they happy because of him? Or for some other reason? His brows furrow, eyes narrowing, but he shakes his head to clear his mind before anything can pull him from whatever this moment is.

“You didn’t even let me tell you the best part of that story,” Sparrow says as they lean back, fingers tapping a rhythm against his chest that he doesn’t recognize.

“My apologies your highness,” he drawls, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Please, continue.”

They push down on the middle of his sternum with the ring finger of their left hand. “I panicked and dyed my hair back to strawberry blonde two days later because I felt so bad I did it without asking for permission.”

There is no chance of stopping his laughter this time. It bursts from him, loud and unapologetic. Sparrow slips off his lap, returning to lying on their back, as they cover their face and giggle. They snort like they always do when they laugh hard enough, and that sets Mason off again. It takes a few minutes for them both to settle down. He tips his head to the side to look at them, their body stretched out again, all long lean lines of muscle.

He rolls back onto his side. Extends his arm so he can touch the tattoo on their right thigh. Geometric with a sunflower in the middle, done only in black like the rest of the art on their body. “Why a sunflower?”

“It’s my favorite.”

Simple as that, it seems.

Mason moves a leg, hooks his foot around their calf so they’re touching again, and smooths a hand over their side. Aimlessly, he begins to connect their freckles. Dot to dot. Patterns that mean nothing and patterns that mean something, though he isn’t sure why. Memories locked away behind an iron door. A room he has no access to but that his body remembers all the same. Sweeping lines, curls and bursts of starlight. He paints them all in his mind while the pads of his fingers ghost across Sparrow’s body.

They shiver as his touch smooths over their ribs. He knows there’s a spot, down close to their hip, that will drive them to arch into his touch or his mouth. He avoids it. Skips to the side, curling his fingers around to touch their back before slipping down to rest on their thigh. Splayed on their leg like this, his hand covers quite a bit of their skin. Palm resting along the outside, his fingers draped over lazily, the tips brushing their inner thigh.

A pull, like a hook in his chest, snags and lures him closer. He goes willingly until he’s near enough that his leg rests over theirs, knee pressing into the bed between their thighs, and he’s tipped to rest more on his stomach than his side. He removes the hand from their thigh. Reaches up and cups their side, fingers spreading over their ribs, thumb just beneath their left breast.

Over their heart.

He blinks. Looks up and finds Sparrow with their eyes closed, a lazy smile stretched across their face.

A steady beat beneath his hand. Slow. Relaxed. Even. He could set music to their heart. Compose something Sparrow could play on their violin. His fingers curl, blunt nails digging into their skin. Each breath has their chest expanding, and he watches for a moment before he swallows hard.

“I...I should go,” he murmurs, lips close enough to their shoulder to brush against their skin. Sparrow hums but doesn’t speak.

He should go. He should get up, pull his clothes on, and head back to his room down the hall. Staying is new, and sometimes it makes his skin feel too tight still. They let him set the pace, whether he drags himself away or clings to them like he needs their skin against his to breathe properly.

Sparrow exhales through their nose, long and slow. “I need to shower.”

It’s an out if he’s ever seen one.

They’ll head to the bathroom and he can slip away without them watching. He doesn’t know why they prefer it that way, and Mason desperately tries not to think about how much easier it is to walk away when he can’t turn around and see them.

The bed moves, shifts and creaks as they untangle their limbs from his and sit up. Cold air fills the space they leave behind. His hand fists in the sheet, fabric bunching up in his grip as he watches them. Sparrow groans and stretches and their back pops in a few places.

“Did I fuck your back out Songbird?” Mason grins and rolls to the side as they grab for him with an indignant huff. They're grinning though, hands reaching for him as they dive for his hands. He snorts, scrambling away as he asks, “Want me to fuck it back into place?”

Sparrow pauses, kneeling on the bed, one hand still reaching for him as it slowly drops. When their eyes soften, he knows they’ve caught that question for what it truly is.

What he’s really asking for.

A reason to stay.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, to be honest,” they say with a grin.

Quick as a flash, he’s off the bed. Scooping them up and tossing them over his shoulder while they giggle and squeal. He smacks their ass lightly, a tap more than anything, and turns his head to nip at their thigh. “Settle down or I’ll drop you.”

Sparrow pinches his waist and he growls. “You would never, you like me too much.”

“I like your—”

“Mason!” They laugh, hands hanging down and fingers brushing against his skin as he walks.

“What? Nat’s not here to tell me to stop.”

“Please don’t talk about Nat as you’re walking me to the shower like this.”

He snorts, arm tightening around them to keep them safe over his shoulder, and as he kicks the bathroom door shut to the sound of Sparrow laughing, he tucks the ember that burns in his chest somewhere safe.

#the wayhaven chronicles #agent m #txt #long post #'something short' i said and now here we are almost 2k words later #but hey! it's not smut so!#c: sparrow kingston #mason x sparrow #caiti.txt #can't believe i managed to write something wow amazing #writing tag

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faithylilac · 3 years

Text

The Party Party Part 6

So... there was a bit of a situation... a very bad situation. Not a terrible situation, Faithy and Echo are doing quite lovely.

“Well we wouldn’t have been in this mess if I was the party leader!” Dax shouted at the shorter god. She simply huffed and started tapping her foot.

“Well I didn’t see you throwing any ideas around!” She looked around the dark cave they were in, double checking for a way out. “You twat” she said off handedly.

Dax’s eyes widen, sure what he said was rude... but not to deserve that.

What happened between the two residential celestial beings?

There they were, five papers spread across the floor, each with a different task. Cj explained that they decided to pick up side jobs to do on the way to wedding. Ash and Jo had realized they would be a week early if they went straight there, so this was a perfect idea.

Faithy just shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t party leader anymore so if anything happened, it wasn’t her fault.

“Wait which one is first on the list?” Dax finally decided to pipe in, as he knew he was free of compasses.

Carter held up their’s proudly, “we’re going after this thing called the uh....” he quickly flipped the paper around to read, “Mortem Spera... I don’t know if I said that right.”

“What is it exactly?” Ash asked. Carter read some more and shrugged. Apparently no information on it... weird.

Carter on the other hand, was having a tougher time that the two gods. Both of Ash’s and Jo’s cloaks were ripped to shreds. So their ears were out and the open, reminding Carter plenty of what they truly were.... Nyah Nyah kawaii anime cat people.

Jo had on a large hat, thank Gjhar feiiled, but her tail was sticking out. Ash on the other hand was a free cat boy, disgusting...

Carter was scurrying to look for a blind fold, make it out of anything... But there was hinderance to that plan.

“So Carter... Do you like oranges?”

Carter pulled all of his mental strength to not freak out that this cat girl was speaking to him. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes tight. “Why?” Jo just blinked at him. “I don’t want to answer that” carter continued. “I swear it’s not a deez nuts joke.” Jo replied. Carter kinda just roll his eyes but not, being that they are closed. “Kinda... but that’s so random— I’m confused.”

Jo giggle, “I just wanted to know if you liked oranges.” She replied. “I don’t hate oranges.”

“Anyway, I guess you can ask questions about me, or I can ask more about you— whatever you are more comfortable with.”

Carter shrugged, walking past her to pick up something he spotted once he opened his eyes. It was a clothe that was sticking out of rubble. “Uhhhh...” The nymph examined the clothe, it was embroidered with strange writing and lots of stars.

“Ash, you’ve studied a few ancient languages right?” Jo looked over him to find him staring at a large tapestry on the other part of the cave.

“No, where did you get that idea?” He asked. Jo just shrugged, “I didn’t know if you did, was just trying my luck.”

Carter brought over his clothe to compare the writing. It seemed to be the same letters, but slightly different... maybe it was handwriting? Ash looked over at Carter’s finding but they jumped away from him, trying to keep some distance.

“Oh shoot I forgot.” Ash said, flattening the ears on his head. Carter frowned and took a deep breath and inched back toward the bard. “Take this hurry up!” Carter shoves it at him and scurries farther away.

“Ok I guess.” Ash went back to the tapestry, trying to figure out the reoccurring letters.

Jo scooted closer to carter and smiled widely. “So... what happened with cats that caused you to be terrified so much?” She asked sweetly. Carter pauses. “Uhhhh....”

Earlier....

“Ok, everyone stick together. The shop keeper says there’s major stress at the entrance of the cave.” Cj explained as she examined the map that they bought from a gift shop. It was a old mine that housed crystals, but now it’s a tourist attraction.

The whole surrounding town was super old and and had a temple for just about every religion in the land. Even Gjhar feiiled.... Faithy kept her cloak on put away any loose jewelry. The main temple was up north, so as they traveled that way, more and more of them were more common.

But I’ll stop there. The shop keeper said someone covered in dragon scales came through the shop with a large box and went straight into the caves. He seemed like he was running for someone, so whatever was in the box seemed important.

As they ventured in the unconsciously huddled into three separate groups, Faithy and Echo on the left, Carter, Jo, and Ash on the right, and Dax and Cj in the middle.

Definitely unrelated though, Echo was tracing a wall painting with it’s finger and the mountain started shaking. “WHO DECIDED TOUCHING SOMETHING WAS A GOOD IDEA?!?” Ash screamed. “IT WAS CJ” Dax yelled back.

Like it was an action movie or something, rubble came tumbling down and separated the party.

“Ok whatever. Can you use your plants to get us out of here?” Dax asked he traced the walls of the cave.

Cj’s face read “oh duh” but as she went to feel the walls for roots or anything else she frowned. “No good. If I call them I have no idea what it’ll do to integrity of the cave.”

Dax huffed, frail mortals had to be so... frail. Sure the two of them would survive, but his favorite humanoids definitely wouldn’t.

A whistling noise echoed through the tunnel and they taking a fighting stance. Dax signaled her was going further in and Cj followed. They walk around a corner to see a green light emerging from further in.

“You got a few more millennias to live, I’ll go ahead.” Dax said dramaticly. Cj rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Like someone would be able to kill, much less defeat a Chaos god.”

Dax slapped a hand on either side of his face and acted surprised.

“To think you’d have so much faith in me!”

Cj just punched his arm, “that would be Faithy, not you.”

“Can I help you two?” A voice from behind them caused them to scream and Dax jumped into the smaller God’s arms.

Even though she was a goddess, she didn’t have supernatural strength of any nature. So her small frame was having trouble keeping him up.

It was a very very very very very very very old person. Now, Cj and Dax had no room to talk, but they had a better skincare routine.

Dax jumped out of Cj’s arms suddenly and her arms flung upwards in a very fast motion, knocking her down in the process. Dax helped her up and they readjust themselves.

“Are you the reason I heard some rumbling?” He asked as he shown his blue lantern around.

A sweat ran down CJ’s back.

“Actually, it was a lizard thing.” Dax spoke up. Cj looked at him with audacity. He had just blamed her for touching the thing she shouldn’t have, causing the mountain to come down on them. So he knew....

The old person simply nodded, “ah well, it’ll take them some time to dig that out. It earns the nearby too much money from tourist to let it stay caved in.” He explained. “Now, why don’t we talk for a bit? I’ll pour some tea.”

They reluctantly follow him into his little cave house. Well it was a small cave room, what’s the term for that? Google isn’t very helpful because all it’s wanting to do is give me tips for a man cave layout.

“So what brings you into an empty crystal cave? You seem more like adventurers than tourist.”

Back to Carter and the cats.

“Oh yeah... cats.” Carter looked away, trying to avoid the question.

Jo sighed and took a step back. “Ok it’s ok, you don’t have to answer that.”

Carter sighed in relief and turned straight around. “But how did you learn to be so swag?”

Carter paused and slowly turned back to them and was about to answer when Ash interrupted.

“OK GUYS! The thing we’re are after is a weapon!” He then broke his instrument and tore off a part of his cape to make a proper torch. Now you might be wondering how they could see without a torch. Ash and Jo could see enough not to bump into anything and Carter could tell where the general area of something is. That piece of clothe was just pure luck.

“Jo can you light this?” He asked her. She nodded and snapped her fingers to start a flame and lit it like a birthday candle.

“How did you do that? I don’t think archers can do that.” Carter said in confusion. She laughed and pointed at her hat. “I can change my class depending on my hat. Not that I have any control of it... if kinda just happens and I can’t ever remember what hat goes with what, we kinda just got lucky.”

Carter blinked slowly. The hat made no sense and there was so no sense of making sense of the thing.

“Guys look!” Ash held up the torch near the tapestry to show the words formed a picture of a weapon. There were also stars scattered around it.

“How do you even know that’s the thing we’re looking for? It could just be something relating to something else?” Jo asked.

“Carter give me the flier.” Ash asked sticking his hand out. Carter scrambled around to remember where he stuffed it, “it’s on your belt of daggers.” Ash said. He grabs it and hands it to the cat boy.

Ash holds it up and looks for any similarity between the flier and the tapestry. “Well thats only convenient.” He said. Jo and Carter look over his shoulder and the weird drawing on the flier almost matches the tapestry.

“It’s missing the words that make up the weapon.” Jo pointed out. Now that was very apparent to Carter and Ash but ummm.... Jo is nice and is explaining what’s going on for you sweet Reader-Chan!

(Aughh that took thirty years off my life. I feel like I’m writing on Wattpad again)

But every single star was present. “Wow I feel smart for figuring this out.” Ash said proudly.

“Do they make a pattern?” Carter asked. Ash shoved the flier at him and started kicking random rocks until one fell apart. He picked it up and grabbed the flier back from carter and plopped down.

He used the fragile rock as chalk and connected each start. “Oooh smart.” Jo added.

There were five large stars and a few smaller stars scattered as well. When Ash connected them all together it looked like a deformed turkey.

“Surely that’s not right.” Ash quickly dusted off the flier and connected only the large stars. “Ok tell me if I’m wrong, but does this look like a straying path?” He pointed out.

It started at one point, split into three, then back to another. “Oh yeah I can see that.” Jo replied.

“Maybe we were going to split up anyway and the rubble just sped it up.” Ash purposed.

“I still don’t see how this has anything to with the Mortem Spera“ Carter replied. Ash thought on his question for a minute but shrugged. “Most of these stupid quest have no reason to link up together the way they do.” The cat boy replied.

“Wait, that means we should be able to meet back up with the others then.” Jo replied. Ash quickly rips the tapestry off the wall and rolls it up. “I don’t know if this will be helpful, but it’s worth a shot.” They then head off the find the others.

“So these star forgers are immortal?” Cj asked before taking another sip of tea. The elder nodded.

“The only thing known to strike down one of these beings is something called the Mortem Spera.” He replied, drinking some of his own tea.

The two gods looked at each other, remembering that was thing they were hired to receive.

“But hear my warning. No mortal has managed to get their hands on it, and if they did they would surely meet their end.” He added.

“So who wielded it?” Dax spoke up. Dax did not have tea, he was drinking black coffee. Not that the old man had coffee, he made it himself— French press and everything.

The old man fell silent and put down his cup. “I don’t know the answer to that question. My theory was a dying god.” Interesting, interesting cool story bro.

“But I don’t actually know that. But I don’t think too much about the subject.”

“Well thank you for your time, but we need to find our friends.” Cj announced and pulled Dax up with her.

“Thank you for humoring me, you young folk have fun.” He said as he was went back to drinking tea.

Cj and Dax scurried out and proceeded further into the cave. “I’m sorry I don’t think he knows what’s he’s talking about.” Dax said.

“How so?” Cj replied. The older god sighed. “As long as I’ve lived, I would have at least heard about a dying god THAT desperate to live. Sure some seek out the fountain of youth, but trying to kill something like a star forger.”

Cj thought on it and nodded, “he did seem like he belonged in a loony bin.”

They then turned another corner to find... Faithy and Echo having a tea party?

She had on a fake crown and Echo had on a fake mustache and top hat. But this wasn’t your average tea party, it was the real thing. With delicate dishes, a tower of Pastries, and Gjhar feiiled forbid... a white lace table clothe.

“Is this what you’ve been doing this whole time?” Cj asked, not that she was one to ask.

“We ran into this lovely dwarf who owns a restaurant in here and we’ve been waiting on the rest of you.” Faithy explained before drinking out of her cup with her pinkie at ninety degrees.

Dax and Cj looked at them confused, “how did you know we were coming this way?” Cj asked.

“Ahh... so the shop owner was telling us that the cave coming down on itself was just a illusion.” Echo replied.

Cj flops down onto the ground and leaves an indention around herself.

“Yeah the whole thing is tourist trap role playing adventure. At the end they trick you into trading a sack of gold for a wooden spear.” Faith added.

“That does explain why it didn’t get any darker when the rocks blocked the entrance.” Dax replied.

Cj shot up from her Cj shaped hole in the floor and started screaming incoherently. She then stop and narrowed her eyes at Dax. “You’re a Chaos god and you couldn’t sense an illusion?”

Dax just shrugged. “I’m a chaos god, everything I do is legit. I have no use for mortal’s artificial magic.” He said with disgust. “That and I wasn’t thinking about it.”

Then. A loud thundering noise echoed through the cave, causing everyone to get up and put up their guard. But here comes ash carrying a stupidly large tapestry and Jo carrying Carter like a baby. How were they making so much noise????

“Ok good, we all found each other and someone isn’t trying to get through rocks like an idiot.” Ash said in relief.

“How did you know about the illusion?” Cj asked. Ash raised his eyebrow, “what illusion? The freaking flier made a map. It’s stupid simple but it works I guess.” He replied.

So... this was so freaking long.

And color coding is a pain

Never again

Ever

I hate everything

Masterlist

Figure out who everyone is, I dare you

#saveethanchanfromsoup #the party party #friendfiction #original story #cottage core goddess might fight chaos god???#garfield #red herring #don’t trust old people #cat boys

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allfandomxreader · 5 years

Text

After Dust Settles

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: As a teenager, you never could’ve imagined the life you and Steve would share together.

Warnings: Language, minor blood and anxiety mention, but I think that’s it

Words: 2.1k

A/N: So this could either be a one shot or if you guys like it I could make it into a mini series, let me know if you'd like me to continue it!! Not my gif!

Masterlist

Cold tile was pressed against your cheek. Steve murmured somewhere next to you in and out of conscious from his drugged state. You desperately wanted to reach for him, to hold his hand, to escape. God, you really wanted to escape.

When the Russians returned, they yanked your fallen bodies from the floor, asking once again “Who do you work for?” for the thousandth time. You couldn’t answer, your eyes fixated on the blood smears where Steve laid just moments ago. You’ve survived the Demogorgon and even his army of dogs, but you were going to die in a secret fortress beneath your part time job. It was almost comical.

The doctor, which by now you’ve decided wasn’t an actual doctor, reached for tools on a metal try. The scraping of metal sent chills down your spine, his footsteps that grew louder as he reached for Steve’s hand didn’t help either. The boy pressed against your back squirmed to get away from his grip, it was only then did you scream about the code.

The Mind Flayer roars, his hands swarmed around the open area trying to capture anything that dared to move. Your eyes were trained to the floor, trying your hardest not to stare at the creature that stood only a few yards away. You can’t hear anything, not Steve who tried to snap you out of your daze, not Robin who demanded answers to questions you couldn’t quite answer, even the fireworks sounded like they were miles away.

You needed to breathe. Air. You needed air.

It’s been years since the supernatural had left Hawkins, the small town is now deemed safe. There aren’t any more Russians, no sign of monsters, all the fighting ceased after Starcourt. Dust that the lab and the Upside Down kicked up has since settled.

It had been ages since you’ve woken up gasping, hands trembling, and coated with sweat. Nightmares haven’t been so common lately, you almost forgot they existed. Almost.

On any given morning, you’d reach for Steve. Usually, he’d still be sleeping, his lips always parted, his hair messy and fanning the pillow beneath him. Today however, the spot beside you is abandoned by Steve and stolen by four paws and a wagging tail. You smile at Grover, gently running your hand along his spine as his tail thumps softly against the mattress, eyes pleading to stay in bed just a second longer.

Steve would flip if he saw the sight, complaining for days about shedding and muddy paws. The beagle knows he’s not allowed in bed. Steve drilled that memo in his head the second he sprinted through the door, sniffing all his new surroundings. It only took him a few nights to understand the concept. But you let it slide, just this once.

It took only a moment to regain your bearings and be brought back to reality. The room around you is dark despite sunlight trying to invade the room behind closed curtains. Pictures hang neatly on the walls, a pile of Steve’s clothes in the corner, two stray cups litter the bedside table. You are home. You are safe.

Sighing, you pull yourself out of bed and into the kitchen, Grover’s muffled footsteps trailing behind you. The house is oddly silent, Steve clearly isn’t home, the note on the fridge only confirms it. “Store run, be home soon -S”

There couldn’t possibly be anything either of you needed for the day, grocery shopping has always been a Sunday errand. You haven’t even made the list yet, there’s no telling what that clueless man will bring back.

It’s Saturday, the day reserved for sleeping in and movie marathons with your husband. Saturday isn’t a day for waking up alone, weekdays are. Well, not for you, your job demands early mornings whereas Steve’s alarm goes off an hour after you leave. For years, Steve’s always been there the moment your eyes open. Of course, on the day you needed it most, he’s gone. You’ve always had shit luck though.

Grover eats happily while you brew a pot of coffee and scrub away the grime from last night’s dinner off dishes as it brews, quietly humming to yourself. You can’t help but bask in the comfort of your home.

There’s only two bedrooms, a quaint kitchen, a decently sized living room, and a small dining area. It’s nothing like the grand house Steve lived in before, there’s no way you could afford a three story abode and both of you refused to take money from his parents. But it’s away from Hawkins, just a few states away from bad memories.

The life you know now is nothing you could’ve dreamed of as a teenager. Married to your best friend, each of you pursuing dream jobs, being a home and dog owner, with a white picket fence to top it off. It’s all you could’ve asked for back then, and at the time it seemed so untangable, so unrealistic. It was hard picturing such a happy and bright future when you were surrounded with death and gore.

For the most part, both of you have healed. Your wounds are now faint scars, nightmares are a rare occurrence instead of every night. You don’t jump when the phone rings or panic when there’s a knock at the door. You don’t have to worry about saving the world anymore, only bills and what to cook for dinner, or whose turn it is to lock the door. For some, such a simple life would be excruciatingly boring, but for you and Steve it’s paradise.

“Hey sleepy head,” Steve calls from the front door, keys and plastic bags dangling from his hands. “You weren’t supposed to be up yet, I wanted to surprise you with breakfast.” He explains, kicking the door shut with his foot.

“I was wondering why you went to the store so early.” You smile, shutting the tap off and drying your hands. He sets the bags down on the counter, leaning in to peck your cheek.

“I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful even if you were snoring louder than Grover.” You bat his shoulder as he scratches the beloved dog behind his ears. “How’d you sleep?” You shrug, looking away only for a moment but Steve knows your mannerisms too well. His face softens as he pulls you into his arms. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah.” His hand combs through your hair as he holds you close, just his touch and the scent of his cologne put your mind at ease.

“I’m sorry, if I had known, I wouldn’t have left.”

“It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I can fight monsters all by myself.” You giggle pulling away and emptying the contents of the groceries.

“When have I ever let you fight on your own?” Steve helps place the food items on the counter, pancake mix, chocolate chips, and syrup are now placed neatly on the laminate. “I rented a few movies for tonight, I got The Princess Bride, The Labyrinth, and Alien 2.”

“We’ve already seen those.” You laugh, grabbing a mixing bowl from the cabinet above.

“And we loved them so we’re watching them again --hey stop that, it’s my turn to cook.” He says gently tugging the bowl out of your hands. You raise your hands in surrender as he begins to follow the instructions printed on the box.

Steve and you have always gone back and forth with household chores. You made it abundantly clear that you’d never be the kind of wife to do all the cooking and cleaning the second you said “I do”. It wasn’t a shock that Steve was okay with this, he was already used to caring for himself since his mother was barely around to do it for him. Hence the chores list hanging on the fridge, each of you having an even number beneath your names.

While Steve cooks, you set plates and silverware on the dining room table before flicking through the mail. You don’t open the ones labeled for Steve or even the bills, that can always be a problem for Monday.

One stands out amongst the rest. To Mr. and Mrs. Harringtonyou smile at the scribbled handwriting, you don’t know if you’ll get used to being Mrs. Harrington. “I think the kids wrote us.” You pad back into the kitchen, waving the crisp envelope in the air. You tear into the paper as Steve cranes his neck, hand still mixing pancake batter.

A single polaroid falls into your hands, each kid dressed in their cap in gown. Their arms are thrown over each other’s shoulders, grinning at the lens, their happiness frozen in time. “Miss you both, can’t wait to see you.” You read aloud, smiling at the faces you miss more than anything. “They’ve gotten so big, I can’t believe they’re graduating.”

“They’re about to be adults like us.” Steve chuckles, scooping batter into the skillet. You don’t look away from the tiny photo, tracing their faces with your fingertips. You can only imagine Mrs. Wheeler ordering them to pose, to stand up straighter, to smile for “just one more!”the same way she did when it was you, Steve, Nancy, and Johnathon graduating.

“They look so happy.” You whisper. Steve looks up then, noticing the falter in your smile. He sets down his spatula, ignoring the pancake that will most likely be burnt by the time he returns.

“Are you?” He asks, weaving his arms around your torso.

“The happiest.” You kiss his cheek, passing the photo into his hands for him to get a good look.

“Do you think that’s why you haven’t been sleeping well?” He nods towards the invitations plastered onto the fridge, “Your nightmares usually come back before we visit. Do you think it’s anxiety?” He asks, walking towards the fridge and placing the picture right in the middle of graduation party invites.

“Maybe,” You shrug, flipping the forgotten pancake, only earning a glare from your husband. “It was burning!”

“I told you it was my turn to cook!” You laugh and hop onto the counter as he takes over once more.

“I get scared sometimes,” You admit, Steve doesn’t turn away from the food but you know he’s listening. “Like, I get it, it’s over and it’s been over. And life has been so,so good, you know? But I feel like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For us to have to fight again and I’m so tired of fighting.”

“Hey,” Steve whispers making his way towards you, his fingertips absentmindedly stroking your arms, “It’s been over for a long time. And I understand, returning to Hawkins has always been hard, but we’ve done it many times and everything has been okay. We see the kids, we spend too much money at the arcade, we eat dinner with our parents, and then we come home. We come home without bruises, we come home without something new to give us nightmares.”

You sigh, leaning your head against Steve’s chest knowing he’s right. It’s just anxiety, it had to be.

You and Steve eat in a comfortable silence, the only noises are from your forks scraping against plates or him asking if you could pass the syrup. You’re lost in your own thoughts, feeling excitement to return to the kids but dreading the “Welcome to Hawkins” sign once you enter city limits.

“Steve?” You ask, he only hums in response as he shovels another bite into his mouth. “Let’s say it isn’t over. When we go home and for whatever reason the Mind Flayer is back and they asked us to help… Would we do it?” Steve ponders for a moment as he chews, swallowing before he answers.

“Yeah, I’d like to think we would. It’s not really in our nature to sit back as our friends save the world.” He smiles, although there’s a hint of pain evident in the way he curls his lips. “We’d fight how we always do… Together. All of us.”

“Yeah,” You nod, pushing your now empty plate forward. “Can you do me a favor?” He quirks a brow as he stands, grabbing both dishes to clear the table. “When we leave, can you make sure to pack that bat?”

“The bat? You want me to pack the bat?” He laughs.

“Yeah, you know, just in case.” You shrug.

“Anything for you.” He kisses the top of your head before heading into the kitchen to start the dishes, leaving you alone at the table, once again lost in your thoughts.

You hope visiting Hawkins will be like the last one, a vacation spent smiling, laughing, eating Mrs. Wheeler’s home cooked dinner after the kids’ graduation ceremony. You hope the door is closed like everyone told you, you hope El won’t have to use her powers to defeat a greater evil again. You’ve already saved the world twice; you hope you won’t have to do it a third.

Forever Tags: @superfrankie111 // @rueinn // @lemonadeorange73 // @simplechicwithacrazedheart // @youshutthefuckupville // @captainpeggy40

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #Steve Harrington gif #steve harrington hc #steve harrington one shot #Steve harrington fic #joe keery #joe keery imagine #joe keery fic #joe keery headcanon #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things preference

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im-a-meteorite · 4 years

Text

i’ve been marathoning the harry potter movies since im in quarantine and i’ve been taking some notes. i’ll post them all bc why not

sorcerer’s stone

harry knowing that there’s no post on sunday,, a genius

hedwig’s theme playing when harry looks out of the window and sees an owl flying by, very nice

hagrid doing magic at the house on the rock thing,, wouldnt the ministry be able to track that?? since there’s no wizard that lives there, they should be alerted?? or did they remove the trace from hagrid once he got expelled?? like does it work by the trace only or? bc if it doesn’t work by location then how would they know that a muggle witnessed the magic?? idk anymore

the kids staring at the nimbus 2000 and saying its the fastest model yet,, then the camera zooming on the handle w/ the background blurred -> the most straight forward foreshadowing

hagrid is actually the worst person to take harry on his tour situation,, like bro literally left him in the middle of a train station

the weasleys and harry going to the platform while theres a shit ton of ppl walking around,,, statute of secrecy where??

the great hall is on the first floor?? i thought it was on the ground floor

ew the hats

i wish the movies had dumbledore’s weird few words speeches

“theres not one witch or wizard that went bad that wasnt in slytherin” broooo

mcgonagall is so savage i love her

snape is an asshole

a crap ton of chessboards in the great hall study hall scene,, foreshadowing the challenges?

madam hooch really yeeted herself out of neville’s way

✨🥰 oliver wood 🥰✨✨

harry really wiped the troll buggers on his robe,, disgusting

snapes hair is lowkey on fleek tho,,

making most of the slytherins ugly bc they’re the “evil” house is just a disservice to all the inbreeding

hermione setting snape on fire is truly iconic and very extra tbh like sis why tf would u know a spell like that

seasonal transition wasnt that great tbh

overall the directing style is kinda basic

“not in the restricted section,,” rule breaking hermione is the best hermione

dumbledore’s handwriting is so extra and loopy like tf?? but it fits his character

the hedwig flying season transition was good

“immortal?” “it means you’ll never die.” “i know what it means!”

50 points each for being out of bed??? wtf is this point system

filtch saying there’s werewolves in the forbidden forest,,, thats illegal sir

hagrid calling the trio by their first names but draco by his last,, we love favoritism

harry’s thoughts r so ridiculous,, “snape doesnt want the stone for himself, he wants it for voldemort!” lmaoo wtf,, evidence pls sir,, u don’t even know he was a death eater. was it the bad vibes?? bc same

harry figuring out that the person who gave hagrid the dragon egg is voldy,, a genius

“kill us faster?? now i can relax!!” ron is so iconic i love him

“lucky we didnt panic!” “lucky hermione pays attention in herbology”

how is it that harry’s hand burned quirrel but not the skin on harry’s neck?? that shit makes no sense

yeah i really cant imagine this dumbledore fighting voldy in movie 5

hermione’s headband in the reunion scene is so cute i love it

chamber of secrets:

how is dobby even allowed to just jump on the bed?? like is it bc harry isnt his master that he can do smth like that

“dobby has heard about harry potter’s kindness” or whatever,, bro u work for the malfoys either the elves gossip or draco is waxing poetry about harry

aunt petunia saying “we have ice-cream” after that whole affair is just ridiculous

DIAGONALLY

this seems like the extended version bc i dont remember the borgin and bruks scene to be that long

the close ups with lucius and ginny’s books r insane lmao like chris columbus made it so obvious

also mr weasley’s acting is so funny like its so exaggerated

lucius malfoy is so dramatic and extra we love it

also lucius knowing hermione’s name and “draco’s told me all about you”??? bro whats with draco?? lmaoo

snape really got mad with the whole car business

mandrakes r fucking weird bro how did jkr come up with that

PERCY WALKING WITH PENELOPE CLEARWATER??? HOW DID I MISS THAT??

omg colin had so many lines?? wow

omg erol with the fucking howler,, iconic

ron’s facial expressions?? pure comedy, rupret is so good

LOCKHEART REALLY SAID “GOOD GIRL” THEN WINKED AT HERMIONE

“pesky piksy pescinomy” this bitch dumb

“why is it always me?” poor neville

omfg ✨🥰 oliver wood 🥰✨

ahh using the seeker position for fighting

ew draco used the m-word

the shit the basilisk is saying is so lame lmaoo

how does harry not recognize that he’s hearing a different language?? or does parsaltongue act weird

HOW IS THE WHOLE SCHOOL IN THE SAME CORRIDOR???

“i know the counter-curse that could’ve spared her” bitch the dirty looks he got?? omfg

the movies would’ve been 500% better if they had lee jordan’s iconic quidditch commentary

“scarhead” “TRAINING FOR THE BALLET, POTTER?”

“what did you expect?? pumpkin juice??” madam pomfery is a queen

dobby is dumb dumb

“who am i, hedwig? what am i?”

“reading? i didnt know you could read?”

“look at my face” “look at your tail!”

“you can’t cancel quidditch!”

“oh harry, if you die down there, you’re welcome to share my toilet”

lockheart: do you live here? ron: no *smacks him in the head with a rock*

“voldemort is my past, present and future” are all slytherins this dramatic??

the tension between hermione and ron in the last feast was insane

justin filtch fletchy is so ugly im so sorry i cant

prisoner of azkaban:

im sorry but harry doing underage illegal magic pisses me off every time

aunt marge 🤢

“do they use a cane boy?” “oh yeah, i’ve been beaten loads of times”

that whole scene is so chaotic

“you cant do magic outside of school!” “oh yeah? try me”

sirius really dumb for barking at harry like it makes no sense

the knight bus is probably one of the best things in this movie

“whatcha doing down there??” “i fell over” “whacha fell over for?” “i didnt do it on purpose!” “well come on then, lets not wait for the grass to grow”

harry leans over and looks for the grim, stan: “whatcha looking at?”

“yeah take it away ernie,, its gonna be a bumpy ride”

this whole thing is written and directed so perfectly

i hate how they replaced tom bc it really made no sense

all the bits of magic in the leaky caldron is so genius

fudge reminds me of trump but like dumber

the blue lighting and coloring is just great, it fits the colder vibe of the story (not like HBP with the hazy/blurry effect)

ugh the glass and mirror transitions are one of my favorite things,, alfonso curon really did that

i love the weasleys,, also everyone looks great in this movie

omg the scene with arthur talking to harry about sirius with the sirius poster always being in sight?? amazing

contrast of light and darkness just echos the whole dementor vs patronus situation

i dont even understand why remus took the train other than for the nostalgia

the lights slowly turning off in the different carriages?? amazing

the visual representation of the dementors’ effect is great

REMUS!!!

i wish there was more emotion from remus when he’s talking about sirius,, like that was one of his only friends

snape clapping literally twice for remus,, ajhshsh

ahh the placement of the slytherin and gryffindor tables right beside each other to increase the tension and further the plot

oh yea the new dumbledore, also cool hat he has

omg the new fat lady painting

omg the candy scene?? so cute i love lads being lads. that scene just echo’s dumbledore’s light in the dark quote bc its storming outside at night and they’re creating a happy environment within the dark especially with the dementors

ah yes the clock references + following the bird to show us important parts of hogwarts and putting the whomping willow in the forefront

ron’s reading of harry’s tea leaves,, still on point tho. ron really has a knack for divination

buckbeak! omg drapple

draco is so hot especially with that ring also the slytherin pins??

“oh yeah, terribly funny, really witty. god, this place has gone to the dogs”

the kids look so messy i love it + harry’s uneven tie

HERMIONE CLINGING TO RONS ARM!!

“its killed me! your gonna regret this, you and your bloody chicken”

omg the boggart lesson

“riddikulus!” “this class is ridiculous”

fuck snape!

draco really pushed someone with his bandaged arm

remus is such an amazing professor i love him and i just miss him so much

ugh harry in this hoodie?? amazing

remus and harry’s conversation with the music :(( lily :((

wtf is that eye painting??

percy screaming about being head boy,, bro stfu

sirius is such a dramatic little bitch i love it

seasonal changes marked by the wimping willow

“turn to page 394”

what a fucking rude ass bitch,, i hate snape

harry really be seeing the grim everywhere

i wish they had “wheres wood?” “trying to drown himself in the shower”

winter transition with hedwig! + clock tower

“come and join the big boys”

i just adore this scene of the twins giving harry the map (bro i really want a series about the marauders)

whos that skinny bitch with draco???

harry’s way too rash tbh

also mcgonagall being also too nonchalant about the whole marauder’s situation?? like those werent your students

remus is a soft boy dark academia icon

if only dumbledore wasnt a dumbass,, remus could have been uncle moony raising harry with sirius

ron’s nightmare scene?? iconic

“my dad didnt strut. nor do i” umm james potter was also a drama queen sooo probably strutting

“you, YOU FOUL LOATHSOME EVIL LITTLE COCKROACH” “hermione no, he’s not worth it”

sirius’ dog form really looks like a rabid dog omfg

the part where hermione grabs harry while she’s on the wimping willow omfg

“only one will die tonight” YOU DRAMATIC BITCH UR NOT MAKING THIS BETTER

“finally the flesh reflects the madness within” “well you’d know all about the madness within, wouldn’t you remus?”

why the fuck is the shreaking shack is swaying in the wind??

QUARRELING LIKE AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE

why the fuck didnt they knock peter out?? like tf?? they’re actually dumb dumb there were so many ways for this to go right

this man really sent 2 13-year-olds on this dumbass mission

buckbeak really beat up remus,, “professor lupin’s having a really tough night”

harry’s a fucking psycho with this patronus bullshit,, i cant

can they stop screaming while flying on buckbeak?? someone might hear them

im still mad sirius didnt get his name cleared,, so much would’ve changed

“we did it” “did what? goodnight” i fucking hate dumbledore and his mindlessness omfg sometimes i wanna punch him in the face

fuck snape for outing remus as a werewolf,,, but also he really didnt have to resign. like istg wheres the marauder energy when it comes to defying everyone??

i wish the movies had went into the marauders’ history :(( its one of my favorite aspects of the series

#harry potter #harry potter movies #philosopher's stone #chamber of secrets #prisoner of azkaban #hermione granger #ronald weasley #remus lupin #sirius black #severus snape #albus dumbledore #minerva mcgonagall #movie marathon #notes #harry potter notes

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marril96 · 4 years

Text

Far From You

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: With quarantine having taken its toll on your relationship, you decide to win Rowena back by all means necessary.

A/N: Huge thanks to my awesome friend @midnightsilver for the prompt.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

Rowena was in a bad mood. Which wasn't a novelty; grumpiness seemed to be one of the woman's default settings, right alongside whining and attention-craving. However, the imposed quarantine seemed to have taken its toll on her, her regular irritation rising to levels that were, at best, barely tolerable, and, at worst, made you want to go outside and hug the sickest-looking stranger in order to get some time away from her.

It wasn't always that bad, though. For the most part, she just sat in silence and huffed and rolled her eyes at random things. That was, when she wasn't cursing out the politicians and the irresponsible people who'd made these safety measures necessary on the TV — a few times quite literally cursing them, eyes sparkling violet as she willed her magic to strike.

To say she was handling it badly would be an understatement.

Rowena was a social creature. As happy as being home with you made her, she loved to travel. Loved to explore different places, experience the world, get to know it. Being holed up in a house was worse than prison. At least prison could be escaped from without fear of catching a nasty disease.

It wasn't that she was afraid of dying. The devil himself hadn't managed to kill her, and neither would a measly virus. But she wasn't too thrilled about the possibility of getting sick. So she stayed home. Like a good little girl, she obeyed the officials' rules and holed up, leaving only when it was her turn to get the groceries.

Though she tried not to let it get to her, the changes in her temper made it clear she wasn't handling the situation well.

Not that you were any better. You weren't an adventurer like her, but you missed your freedom. Missed walking the streets, the sun bathing your hair, Rowena's hand in yours, a wordless but firm statement that she was yours. Missed heading to different restaurants, or ordering delicious food home. Missed Rowena randomly telling you to pack your bags, a promise of a new, exciting adventure sparkling in her eyes.

But, most of all, you missed Rowena. You were living in the same house, yet, as of late, it had started to feel like you were strangers. You still talked, but it was strained, distant. Like two random passengers on a plane discussing the weather to pass the time. You barely touched each other. When you kissed, it was pecks on the cheeks and mouth — solely initiated by you. An empty, passionless habit. A learned routine rather than a loving gesture. And sex… you'd engaged in it twice since the quarantine had taken place, and it, too, lacked its usual passion.

The quarantine had taken its toll on your relationship.

Today, sick of the distance, of the constant cold amidst the warm house, you decided to fight it. Decided to fight for your relationship. Things were horrible, not just in the United States but everywhere in the world, but that didn't mean your life had to be the same way. You could still live. You could still be the couple you'd worked hard to become.

What you had was worth fighting for.

So when Rowena went on another tirade against politicians as she watched the morning news (looking quite ready to throw her steaming mug of tea at the TV), you said in your most irritated tone, "Okay, I get it — you hate them. No need to get so worked up. It's not like they give a damn."

The look she shot you had to have killed before. You would have been frightened had you not known her the way you did. She might have been a serious threat, but when it came to you, she was a puppy. A cute, glare-y puppy who finally paid attention to you after days of nothing.

You plopped down next to her on the couch, set your mug next to hers, and shot her your brightest smile. "Hi!"

Rowena rolled her eyes in the fashion of a trained theater actress. Over the top, dramatic, her style to a T. She picked up a large grimoire that was resting next to her and spread it open on her lap. It was one of her newer books, acquired mere days before the quarantine had taken place. You'd looked forwards to exploring them with her, learning new things, asking questions she would pretend to be annoyed at but would answer with the ferocity of a teacher eager to spread her knowledge. Just like old times.

Instead, she'd taken to reading the books on her own. Using them as a distraction from the awful things happening in the world.

A distraction from you.

You tried not to let it get to you too much, but it stung. Your heart clenched with pain, with ache that ran deep to your core. Like poison coursing through your veins, burning you up from the inside one little bit at a time. It was as though she'd grown bored of you. As if being holed up with you inside a tiny house had made her resent you. As if it made her realize living with you wasn't the fairy tale you thought of it as and she couldn't wait to get away from you.

You're overreacting, you told yourself. But, even as you kept repeating to yourself that this was just a temporary thing, that it was stress, a sliver of a doubt still nibbled at you. What if Rowena didn't want you anymore? What if she'd had enough?

You still wanted her, you reminded yourself. You missed her. You loved her. And you would do anything to get things back to the way they used to be.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, which earned you another glare. You ignored it, eyes darting to the yellowed pages of the book that must have been older than the two of you combined. Intricate illustrations adorned the paper; those of flowers, of herbs you didn't recognize. They were surrounded by words in a foreign language. Written in an elegant handwriting, the writing gave off a feeling of class, of beauty. Whoever the witch that had written it was, she had obviously been a lady.

"What's it say?" you asked, feigning nonchalance. Heart, all the while, beating wildly, begging for a response.

Rowena eyed you for a few moments before turning her attention back to the book. "It's potion recipes." Matter-of-fact. Straight to the point. No trace of the warmth that usually accompanied her words.

On the bright side, she responded. It was something. Not much, but a start nonetheless.

"What language is it?"

"Italian."

"The book looks pretty old. When was it written?"

"The 1500s."

"Is the witch who wrote it still alive?"

"No."

"It's really cool that you can understand it."

No response. Not even the usual smile at the compliment. As if you hadn't said a word.

Your heart sank, but, insistent to complete this mission you'd tasked yourself with, you sucked in a breath and pecked her on the cheek.

Rowena flinched as if burned and shot you a startled glance. You smiled innocently. Sighing, she went back to her book.

Another failed attempt. Was there anything you could do to get her back? To get her out of her glum state? To make her your girl again for, as of late, it seemed she was distant from you?

To your knowledge, you hadn't done anything wrong. There had been no arguments — not even the pretend, teasy ones the two of you sometimes got into. You hadn't broken anything hers, or messed up any spells. It was as if she'd just decided she wasn't in the mood for you, that you were too much for her to handle. So she ignored you.

As much as it hurt, you weren't going to let her get away with it. You couldn't. Not after everything the two of you had gone through. You'd survived Lucifer. You'd survived her flashbacks and nightmares. And you would survive this.

Desperate, tears pricking at your eyes as pain squeezed at your heart, dove razor-sharp daggers into it over and over like a merciless killer, you leaned down to Rowena's shoulder and pressed a kiss into it. It was a small kiss, soft as silk, a swift, brief brush of lips against skin. A promise of more, so much more — all she had to do was want it.

Rowena stiffened. You laid another kiss to her shoulder, then another, trailing all the way up to her neck. Her skin was soft, incredibly tender; as expected, a small moan escaped her as soon as you reached her most sensitive place. She could be as mad as she wanted, as confused, as indifferent — the neck kiss always did her in.

Her greatest weakness, even in these difficult times.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" There was a hesitation in her voice, mixed in with the cold that coated her words.

"Having some fun," you said, then kissed her again. And again and again and again, and ran your tongue over a tiny spot just below her ear as if she were the most delicious meal, and then kissed it, and around it. A little game you couldn't get enough of.

"Why?"

Because she wasn't paying attention to you. Because you were lonely. Because she was grumpy. Because you both needed a little distraction from the horrors of the world, and what better way to get it than some intimate fun?

"Why not?" you countered. Dared her to defy you. To push you away as she had for days.

Your teeth grazed the sensitive skin, the milky white flushing red, soon to be a beautiful, rich purple. The kind of mark you hadn't left in what felt like ages. Rowena gasped at the sensation, satisfied despite pretending otherwise. Her vein throbbed underneath your mouth, heart racing, blood running hot.

You couldn't resist a smile. There we go. That was your girl! Goodness, you missed her!

The magic was short-lasted, though, as a moment later Rowena pulled away, looked you straight in the eyes, and, serious as a heart attack, said, "Have you gone bloody mental?"

You sighed. Inhaled. Exhaled. Did your best to remain calm because your thoughts were screaming and you wanted nothing more than to throw a tantrum and then curl up and cry your eyes out.

"Maybe I just wanna spend some time with my girlfriend!"

She looked at you as if you'd suddenly grown a second head. "We're together all the time!"

You used to be. Not lately.

"We would be if you weren't ignoring me." If she could play dirty, so could you.

"That's ridiculous!" she argued. Defensive. Second-guessing, but she wouldn't admit it. She was never one to admit she was wrong.

You'd expected it, really. Had prepared yourself for the blow. That didn't make it hurt any less. Throwing your arms up, you got to your feet and started pacing. Restless, nerves short circuiting, heart pounding like a hammer against your ribcage. Relax, you told yourself. Just relax. You'd wanted this fight. You couldn't give up now.

You looked her in the eyes with all the intensity, all the sincerity you could manage. Made sure she knew you meant business. "You barely even look at me. All you do is scream at the TV and read your books." Her outbursts were fun at first, entertaining. Now, they were exhausting. There were only so many times you could laugh at the very same curse words, even if they were Scottish. "It's like you're sick of living with me."

A tear slid down your cheek; you wiped it with the back of your hand and sniffled. Willed the rest of the tears to stay back, to not betray you at a time like this. You hated arguing with Rowena. You were used to peace in your relationship, to hugs and kisses and love and laughter and everything happy and bright. Whenever you argued, it felt like a piece of you was being torn apart. As if, if you went too far, if you pushed too many buttons, she would decide she'd had enough and, just like back in her wicked days, she would turn her back and leave.

You knew it was silly. Arguments were part of a relationship; they were healthy, so long as they were nuanced. But a part of you couldn't let go of the notion that fights would be the end of everything you knew and loved. It terrified you to the bone, and with the fear came more tears, and before you could try to stop them again, you were crying.

"Darling, that's not—I could never get sick of being with you," Rowena said. "I don't know what you think is happening, but, I can assure you, I've no ill feelings toward you." She flashed a smile, one of those bright, honest ones. "I promise."

You swallowed a lump that had popped in your throat. Gulped in a large breath. "You're always in a bad mood. And you never pay attention to me." You realized you come across as a needy, whiny child, but it was the truth. You felt ignored. You were ignored. Your usually attentive girlfriend had suddenly turned you a cold shoulder. "You don't kiss me back anymore. Don't even get me started on sex. Even when you sleep, you turn your back on me."

She pondered on your words. Twisted and turned them in her head, thought them through. When she spoke, her words were laced with regret, "Y/N, you've got this all wrong." She stood up and reached for your hand, tiny fingers wrapping around yours. The kind of touch you were yearning for, that you were missing. "I suppose I have been a tad distant these days. Not because of you. You haven't done anything wrong."

You allowed yourself to breathe out with ease.

"It's this house. I'm sick of being locked inside all the time," she elaborated. "It's starting to feel like a prison. I miss our wee trips." She pouted. "I miss dinners in my favourite restaurant."

You chuckled.

Rowena smiled. "I miss our walks. Going out for groceries hardly counts as going out."

"I miss it, too," you admitted. "All of it." But, most of all… "I miss you."

"I'm… sorry." It was hard for her to say the words. Two years into her redemption, and she still struggled with apologizing. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I love you, you silly girl. I could never tire of you. Even when you interrupt my reading."

She accompanied that with a small glare, a feigned one.

You rolled your eyes. "Gotta get your attention somehow."

"You've got my full attention now." Her eyes fell to your lips. Trailed down the length of your body. She was so close; you could smell her skin, almost taste her lips. "What is it you would like to do with it?"

"I can think of a few things."

You kissed her, deep and hard. She reciprocated instantly, drawing you in, arms snaking around you to pull you right where she wanted you. She tasted of promise and love and everything sweet, everything you were missing. You melted into her as she took lead, her tongue exploring your mouth, tasting it, marking it. Making it clear that it was her territory, her ownership.

Goodness, you missed this!

Parting for breath, you kissed her again, then pushed her on the couch a tad rougher than necessary and straddled her. Your mouth was back on her neck, kissing the previously marked spot. Licking and biting and sucking, leaving a trail of blossoming bruises in your wake.

"That's it, darling," Rowena moaned in her thick accent, which only made you got at it harder.

Maybe the quarantine wouldn't be so bad after all.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @rowenaslilwitch @midnight-lestrange

#rowena #rowena macleod #spn #supernatural #spn family #rowena x reader #fanfiction #my fics

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harley-sunday · 5 years

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire [02]

Summary During a bank robbery you’re surprised when the criminals seem to recognize you and retreat in fear. Only after do you learn that your high school sweetheart now runs a nationwide crime syndicate and has you placed on a “no harm” list. You decide to pay him a visit after all these years.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader (F)

Warnings: Language. Mentions of a miscarriage.

Word count: 3399

AN: Time for part two :) Would love to hear what you think, so don’t be shy about leaving a comment! Enjoy ♥

Masterlist

The drive from his mother’s house to yours is short, with only a quick stop for dinner at the Italian place you’re pretty much a regular at. You like it there because they know not to bother you with any small-talk and they always let you eat in peace. It’s also where he took you on your first date, so...

The first thing you do when you get home is text Bert, giving him some lame excuse about how this is all much tougher than you thought and how you need more time to recover. You ask for two weeks off, because that seems reasonable, and of course he agrees. Tells you to look after yourself and makes you promise you’ll let him know how you are doing sometime next week. It feels bad lying to Bert, but it appears your morals left you at the same moment those robbers left the bank.

Next, upstairs in your bedroom, you grab a chair to pull out an old battered cardboard box from somewhere deep in your closet and set out looking for your senior yearbook. You find it easily enough, even though you’re not sure why you think you need it.

It sits in your lap now, the fingers of your left hand absentmindedly tracing the embossed letters on the cover. Your right hand is holding a glass of Scotch, because that seems to have become your go-to drink every since this started. You swirl the ice cubes around in your glass, letting out a sigh, finally opening the yearbook.

You find the page that has pictures of the senior prom quick enough and you feel a sad smile forming on your lips when you see the picture of Sebastian and you as the homecoming king and queen. God, you were so happy then. You remember being giddy all night but especially after you two were crowned, because never in a million years would you have thought you’d be elected king and queen. To this day you still wonder if Josh had anything to do with it. He must have. There was some shady shit going on during the election that you know the principal tried to get to the bottom of but couldn’t and so he had no choice but to validate the outcome.

Sebastian and Josh were thick as thieves and best friends for as long as you could remember, their families living next to each other long before both boys were born. They were troublemakers, but never in a bad way, not really anyway. They got really into graffiti at some point, but nothing more than that. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

It wasn’t until a few years later that you found out Josh was into some pretty shady shit during senior year.

Your fingers caress the picture gently and there’s a quiet, “Oh, Seb,” escaping you because what the hell ever happened to you two? It’s then you remember the envelope his mother gave you and you reach for your purse that’s sitting on the ground next to the couch. You take out the envelope and spot his handwriting on the back immediately, a hastily scribbled Lubirea Mea in the center.

My Love

There’s something wet dripping down your cheeks and it takes you a moment to realize you’re crying. Weird. Must be the Scotch. Or the trip down memory lane you’ve embarked on today. Or the fact that even now you still you remember the few Romanian words he’s taught you and how he’s still calling you this after all these years.

You became friends in sophomore year, when Mrs Ellis sat you next to each other in art class and you admired the drawings he had decorated his binder with. Then, in senior year, he asked you to be his girlfriend on New Year’s Eve. He had taken you on a few dates in the weeks before that, but nothing compared to the big party Josh hosted at his parents’ beach house that evening.

Just going there and being seen together made it official to the outside world.

Sebastian waited until it was almost midnight to confess he had a crush on you and kissed you passionately for the first time just as the clock struck twelve and fireworks erupted all around you. It was romantic as hell and would set the standard for your relationship the next three and a half years. Because if anything, he was a hopeless romantic. The envelope you’re holding now telling you he probably still is.

When you went away to Columbus State University after high school and he stayed in Savannah you still found ways to make it work. After your second year you found a cheap apartment close to campus so he could stay with you without a roommate to worry about. The first couple of months of that school year were everything you wanted it to be because he came to visit you almost every weekend and you could see a future together slowly starting to form. He told you he’d been saving money, even though he wouldn’t really tell you how, just that he was working together with Josh on a couple of projects. It didn’t matter to you. All you wanted was to follow him into this dream of buying a house on the coast somewhere and raising a family together.

You trusted him to do what was best for you two. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Because everything changed on your three-year anniversary.

Josh hosted another one of his infamous parties at the beach house, which was now his after his parents decided to spend their retirement in the Bahamas, and, like every year, he invited you even though you hadn’t seen Josh since you left for university and weren’t as close to him as you once were. You knew by then Josh had a reputation in Savannah, his parties often raided by the police because they suspected drugs were being dealt and used. They never caught anyone and sometimes it almost felt like Josh was taunting them.

You were hesitant to go to the party but Sebastian took you out to dinner first anyway, a fancy restaurant on the other side of town that was way too expensive as far as you were concerned but that he deemed fitting for your anniversary. Dinner was nice and not for the first time during your relationship you felt like everything was as it should be. And so when you finally gathered enough courage you told him the big news.

You were ten weeks pregnant.

You’ve never seen him that happy before and you’ve never seen him that happy again since, because when you eventually made it to the beach house you were met with an awful sight. The house was completely engulfed in flames, police and firemen swarming the area, ambulances taking away the injured to nearby hospitals. You heard him curse quietly as he drove up to the house and it was then you saw Josh being wheeled out on a stretcher, unconscious, his body badly burned. Without saying a word you followed the ambulance to the hospital, waiting there for what felt like days even though it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours until the doctors informed you of his condition.

Josh suffered third degrees burns on his face, chest, stomach, arms and legs, and the doctors could already confirm he’d lost eyesight in at least one eye, the second one being dangerously close to following. He would have a long road ahead of him, they warned you, if he even would make it out alive. You stayed in the hospital until his parents arrived the next day, but even then Sebastian never left Josh’ side.

No matter how hard you tried, he wouldn’t meet you, wouldn’t leave the hospital in case Josh would wake up, and so you had to go to there to say goodbye to him when you went back to Columbus after the winter break was over. He seemed distracted, but you figured he was still in shock from everything that happened and sort of admired his loyalty to Josh.

You talked on the phone a couple of times after that, but you never saw him after that last goodbye. Not when you told him you were stressed out about your upcoming exams. Not when you told him you missed him. Not when you begged him to please come see you.

Not even when you told him you’d lost the baby somewhere in the early stages of the second trimester.

He was slipping away from you and there was nothing you could do.

Eventually the findings of the police made it clear that the fire was drug-related and even believed to be an attack on Josh’ life. By then you had learned that Josh had woken up from his coma and that crime still raged in Savannah, some sort of retaliation of what happened that night. There were a lot of gang-related incidents and people were getting beaten up and left for dead almost daily.

You called Sebastian some time in April of that year, fed up with everything, and ended things. You told him you were done. Well, you told his voicemail, because he never answered his phone anymore, and he sure as hell never called back.

You saw him only once after you broke up, in the local CVS of all places on one of your rare trips back to Savannah. You tried to avoid him, tried to make it outside without having to talk to him, but like always he found you easily enough. He tried to apologize for everything that happened, but all you could focus on was how terrible he looked, his face sunken in, his knuckles scraped and bruised, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how much he was involved in all of this. The crimes and the beatings and maybe even the drugs.

You dropped out of university shortly after, needing time to make sense of everything that happened in the last six months, promising the student counselor you’d keep in touch about finishing your last year. You never did. You moved to Atlanta to get away from everything, but mostly to get away from him and the memories of him. Atlanta was a nice distraction, at least the first couple of years.

It took you three years to not think about him every single day. Five years to pretty much forget about him and be sort of happy again. You made it to ten years before you started longing for Savannah again. Made it to twelve before you finally decided to move back.

And now here you are, back in Savannah and back to thinking about him again. You wonder why he still has such a hold over you, because you are sure every normal, sane, person would just turn him in. But not you.

No.

You are sitting here, ten minutes after midnight, on your third glass of Scotch, still turning that fucking envelope over and over in your hands, the melancholy of it all settled somewhere deep in your chest. You put the glass down on the coffee table and sit back, taking a deep breath and then you open the envelope, carefully taking out the piece of paper that’s inside.

You’re not sure what you expected, but not this.

Vă rog.

Please.

You don’t make the drive to Pawleys Island right away. Not in the least because well, you’re definitely over the limit, but also because after reading his plea you suddenly feel so, so tired. You barely make it to bed, stumbling over your shoes that are lying on the floor somewhere and taking your sweet time trying to conquer the stairs while the world is spinning all around you. You vow right then and there never to drink again. Not that much, anyway.

You sleep for at least twelve hours, waking up somewhere in the middle of Wednesday, the afternoon sun shining through your window way too brightly for your liking. By then it’s too late to make the drive, and so you decide to clean your house. It’s your go-to method of dealing with things when you’re upset and it’s quite useful to be honest. Once that’s done you find your trusted duffel bag and pack some clothes. You tell yourself it’s just in case, but somehow you know you won’t be back here for at least a couple of days.

Once that’s done you order a pizza and decide to call Detective Johansson to let him know you’re leaving for at least a week, just to get him off your back. He doesn’t seem very interested and you wonder if you should have even bothered.

You’re up early, nerves keeping you from falling back asleep and so you’re on the road before eight, hitting a little bit of traffic on your way out of town, but things immediately quiet down once you cross into South Carolina. The sun is out and from experience you know it should take you about three hours to get to Pawleys Island, a beautiful drive, the memories of those endless summers coming back as you make your way down the 17, getting closer to the coast after Charleston.

You stop for a coffee and something to eat in Georgetown because you doubt he’ll take you out to lunch once you get there. Panic hits then, because what if he isn’t even there? He doesn’t know you’re coming. It’s not like you made an appointment to go see him. Jesus, what if this was all for nothing? You try to calm yourself by reasoning that his mother must have let him know that you’ve come to see her and that he probably figured out you would come out some time this week.

Wanting to get it over with you ask for a to-go cup at the counter and pour your coffee over, leaving your half-eaten sandwich on the table as you rush back to your car. It’s only about twenty minutes from here, but traffic is slow and so you quietly curse everyone on the road with you.

A wave of nausea hits you when you pull up in front of the beach house. It’s been completely demolished after the fire and the house that stands there now doesn’t have any resemblance to the old house if not for blue window panes. Well, what once were blue window panes anyway. The exterior of the house is in decay, paint is chipping pretty much everywhere and the shrubs have grown so high they’re now covering the porch. It’s weird to think the last time you were here was over sixteen years ago.

You sit in your car for a while, gathering up the courage you need for this. You wonder if he knows you’re here, if he’s already seen you from somewhere behind a window. How free does he feel here? Is this just where he hides out after a robbery or does he live here? Do the neighbors know him? Is Josh with him? God, you don’t even know if Josh is still alive. You shake your head to get rid off all the questions that are now going through your mind in a never ending loop and take a deep breath. You grab your purse from the passenger’s seat, finding the key his mother gave you in the side pocket, and get out of your car.

Looking straight ahead you walk up to the house, a small path cleared in between the shrubs wide enough for you to pass through. You hesitate for a moment when you get to the door, but then you mutter a quiet, “Fuck it,” and open it using the key in your hand. It’s light inside, far from the dark drug den you were expecting, and it throws you off a bit. Closing the door behind you, you take it all in. It’s weird how normal it looks inside compared to faded exterior. It’s completely furnished and almost homely and it’s then you wonder if this is where he lives. You half expect a kid or a dog to come running at you from somewhere then because it’s been pretty bold of you to assume he’d still be single. God, there’s a lot you don’t know about him, you realize, and you wonder what version of him you’ll find here.

“Hello?” you call out, but there’s no reply. Curiosity drives you forward, passing the kitchen on your right, to the living room in front of you. Strangely enough the layout of the house is the same as before and so you find your way effortlessly. The far wall of the living room, on the other end of the house, is made up of floor-to-ceiling windows, with a sliding door on the left side.

The door is open and leads to a deck outside and it’s there you see him, sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs. He looks relaxed, a cup of coffee in his hand, today’s newspaper on the table next to him. You tap on the glass of the door, not wanting to startle him even though you know you really should care less about his general well-being. But you want answers and those are hard to come by if you scare him to death, you reason.

He looks up and over his shoulder, a smile creeping onto his lips when he sees it’s you.

“Fuck,” you mutter quietly, because honestly, he looks as good as ever and your knees, your fucking knees, actually go weak. Using the door frame for support you step outside and see him stand up.

“Dragă,” he says, his voice smooth as butter.

“Don’t call me that,” you bite back, because does he really think he can still call you ‘babe’ after all these years.

“I’m sorry,” he says, actually dropping his head and you feel yourself getting angry because what is he, an actor now? No way does he actually feel sorry. It’s all part of this act of his, you’re sure. His way to get redemption.

But is it?

Because when he looks up at you again there’s this sincerity in his eyes that you’ve seen before. You’ve seen it every time he told you he loved you. Dammit. You decide you need some distance and so you walk back until you bump into the railing, leaning against it you cross your arms defensively, letting him know you’re not here for his bullshit. You take him in, all of him, and are surprised to see he hasn’t changed much. His eyes are still the same. A few wrinkles around them, sure, but still that same striking blue that you could get lost in for hours. His hair’s a little shorter than it was back in high school and there’s a little grey around his temples and in his beard but it suits him.

He still has a lean physique but he’s much more muscular now, and you wonder how many hours a week he spends at the gym. He’s wearing a simple white and blue striped t shirt, his biceps stretching the fabric just enough so that you can tell he’s flexing. The jeans he’s wearing are dark blue, his sneakers so white you wonder if they’re new. He looks nothing like the hardened criminal you made him out to be, and much more like a happily married father of three that you hope he isn’t.

God, what if he isn’t involved? What if he’s just like, their accountant or something? You shake your head you know he’s not.

“Coffee?” he asks, interrupting your thoughts. He’s standing up, but keeping his distance as he walks to the door.

It sounds like a normal question but this whole situation is absurd and so it takes you a while to reply. “That depends,” you finally say, one eyebrow raised, “am I just here for some small-talk or are you actually going to tell me everything?”

“Dragă, please,” he says, but realizes his mistake and quickly adds, “You’re here because I need-” he looks at you, “I need you to know everything.”

“Then I’m going to need something stronger than coffee.” And, because you’re still angry, a sneer, “Babe.”

#Sebastian Stan x reader #Sebastian Stan imagine #Sebastian Stan fanfic #Things We Lost in the Fire #Harley Sunday x Sebastian Stan

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sarahwroteathing · 5 years

Text

Just One Kiss (14)

Word Count: 3328

Summary: The silence is finally broken

Warnings: Language, some talk about war

A/N: Alright. Here we go. Second to last chapter, and I’m really nervous about it. I’m either gonna cry, scream, or both. Probably both.

Catch up here!

After over a month of nothing at all, you suddenly found yourself receiving four letters at once. The sight of the handwriting alone had your knees giving out, and you sat hard on the stairs, clutching the envelopes to your chest as tears of relief ran hot and fast down your cheeks, breaths tearing in and out of you in ragged gasps. When you thought you had regained some of your composure, you pulled them away to look at them again, and a loose, giddy laugh escaping you as you traced your fingers over the shaky penmanship. As you scrambled back up to your room you pressed one, two, three kisses in quick succession to the letters in your hands.

“I knew it. I knew it. You’d never break a promise.”

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I’m alright. More soon, I promise.

-Your Bucky

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Dear Y/N,

I don’t know how much Bucky is planning on telling you about what’s happened, but I think it’s important you know. I have to be careful about what I say, so I’m sorry I won’t be able to tell you everything. Hell, I don’t even know everything, but here it goes…

Bucky’s unit ran into serious trouble. Some escaped. Most were either captured or killed. Colonel Phillips sent the condolence letters before I had a chance to fix things, and I can’t even imagine the pain it must have caused. But Bucky is alive. He was being held along with almost 400 other prisoners, and with some help I managed to set them free. Bucky’s alive. He’s safe now. He’s sitting right next to me, and I’m willing to bet he’s writing you a letter too.

There’s something else. The place I found him…. I don’t know what they were doing to him, but he wasn’t just sitting in a cell with everyone else. He hasn’t said anything about it, and I’m not sure he’s going to. But I thought you should know.

I’m keeping an eye on him here, and I swear I won’t let anything happen to him. I’ll bring him home safe. In the meantime, please keep sending him letters. On the walk back to the base, they’re all he would talk about. They help more than you could ever know. Just watching him read them gave me hope that he can recover from all this, that he’ll be okay. Because he’s not okay yet. He’s trying to hide it, but it’s the truth.

But I’m not giving up on him. Please, please don’t give up on him either. I know we can get through all of this together.

Best,

Steve

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Babydoll,

I know we promised to always tease and make jokes and never for a minute go soft, but God help me, I can’t do that now. I’m so sorry, but I can’t. I love you. I love you with everything that I have, everything that I am, and any moment might be too late to tell you, so it has to be now.

I love you, and I’ve never needed you so badly in my entire life. It tears me to pieces to not have you here, but then I know that wouldn’t solve anything. I’d rather die than have you here and in danger. Especially when I don’t think I could protect you anymore.

The more I see of the world, the less I understand it. That doesn’t seem fair, does it? It was one of the only perks of going I could think of, understanding. I guess that was a bit childish. Because I don’t understand a damn thing. Some of it is what you’d expect. How can things like this happen. How can so much hatred and ugliness exist in a world while the sun still rises every morning, fresh and pink as a newborn.

Sometimes it’s something more bitter. Like how can they sell this as glory. I guess that’s always how war has been sold. Glory. Well, with all due respect, there’s not a bit of glory to be found here. If it ever lived here, it’s long gone. It’s not in the notches on the barrel of a rifle. Because the man beside me cries at night and whispers a Hail Mary for every notch he traces with frozen fingertips. It’s not in the hidden hip flask. That’s just medicine. A way to fall asleep when you’re too scared to close your eyes. And it’s not in the “justice of the cause” either. Whatever the hell that means. We do what we have to. We know the stakes. And we suffocate under the consequences every day. There’s no glory here.

It feels like everything has changed, and I don’t understand where or who I am anymore or what I’m supposed to do. Steve is different. Everything is different. Our orders, the uniforms, the missions, the danger. And I don’t know how to catch up.

Almost every second of every day I think about how I just want to be home. But then I was given the chance to leave all this behind, to head back to Brooklyn, and I said no. Steve is staying, so how can I leave? He may have put on a few pounds, but that scrawny little punk from the alley is still in there somewhere, and it’s still my job to protect him. It’s all I’ve got left. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t think this decision has anything to do with you. I promise, it doesn’t.

I love you. So much. And I think about you all the time. I think about an apartment I’ve never seen before. It’s small, but it’s enough. And the lights are off, but there are blue curtains open to let the moon in. And we stand in the middle of the living room just dancing, and we take turns humming songs. I can hold you just as close as I like. And when you get tired you let me know with a sweet little kiss. And you don’t hide from me when you put on your nightgown, and I don’t get embarrassed after I’ve washed my hair.

And just like the apartment, our bed is small, but we don’t mind it. We don’t want there to be space between us anyway. And we lie there in the dark and whisper for a little while until I’ve told one too many bad jokes and you threaten to kick me out. I pretend to be properly scolded so you’ll be sweet on me again, and we fall asleep that way. Holding each other. Not an inch of breathing space and perfectly happy without it.

It’s the only way I can sleep now. Thinking of you keeps my dreams sweet.

Love always,

Bucky

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I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say any of those things, and I know they upset you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sent it, and if I could take it back, I would. I know it’s not fair of me to ask you for this, but please, please ignore it. Shred it, throw it in the river, burn it like you threatened to when I first offered to write you love letters. I had no right sending you a letter like that, and I am very deeply sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. Can we pretend it never happened? Please?

-Bucky

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James Buchanan Barnes,

Don’t you dare apologize to me, not for that. Do you understand what it was like? To be told over and over again that you were gone, and I needed to start moving on? To keep having my letters returned, to see the one they sent your mother? To keep Rebecca attached to me because neither one of us could stand on our own?

There is nothing. Nothing. That you could have written that would have upset me after all of that. You could have said that you hated me. That you didn’t want to see me again. That you were staying there even after the war ends. It wouldn’t have mattered. The sight of your handwriting alone has made these letters sacred to me. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I will keep every letter until the day I die, and there’s nothing you can do to convince me to do otherwise. But if you don’t want to talk about it anymore, then we won’t.

I’ll take whatever you feel you can give me. Please, please take care of yourself. And let others take care of you too. If nothing else, then do that for me.

I ran to your mother and sister today and to Betty while she was at work, and I think we’ve shed enough happy tears between the four of us to raise the river level a bit. The relief of it… I can’t properly express how it feels to know that you’re alive, that you’re okay.

I don’t know what happened, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But you don’t have to apologize for being upset either, for feeling different. Now Steve is there you can lean on each other the way you always have. And before you know it, the day will come when you can come home to me, and you can lean on me too, just as much as you’d like.

In the meantime, I’d like to reassure you that I the mark on the bottom of the page certainly wasn’t intentional. I didn’t do it for you. I simply needed to blot my lipstick. Think nothing of it.

And don’t you dare every scare me like that again.

Yours,

Y/N

P.S. Your eyes aren’t blue, Louise never smiles, and I don’t love you too.

Halfway around the world, Bucky pressed his lips to the red stain you had left, closing his eyes and letting himself pretend for just a moment that you were there on the other side of the page.

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My girl,

I’m sorry to say that I think letters will come farther between now. We move around a lot, and it’s important that people don’t know where we are until we’re already gone. There’s a different way they want you to address your letters from now on. I wrote it on the back. Just know that even when I can’t respond right away, I’m still okay. We’ve proven by now that nothing will keep me from coming home to you. Remember that.

I don’t know if this is good news or not, but when we’re in between missions, we get thrown into a lot of press. So at least you’ll know that I’m still okay even if you can’t hear it from me. I’ll see if I can sneak a secret message for you. Keep an eye on the news reels.

Now all we need is for you to suddenly get famous so I can see you too. Maybe you should go after Clarke Gable after all. That ought to do it. Just make sure you tell him to keep his hands to himself.

You should also know that you’ve got yourself a new crowd of admirers over here in the Howling Commandos. They can roll their eyes and make fun of me all they like, but I see them smile when I tell stories about you.

They’ve taken to calling you Mrs. Barnes, and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to make them stop. There’s a reason Dugan earned his nickname. Speaking of which, I think Dum Dum is somehow already sweet on Betty. Think you could get her to write him a note? Could be fun, although I think we’d both suffer from that connection.

And did you get new lipstick or does it just color different on paper than it does on you? I’m not joking. I need to know. It’s vital information.

Tell Louise I saw her Benjamin a few weeks back. He’s doing alright and just as in love with her as ever. He showed me a better way to wrap up letters to keep them safe from rain. Turns out we’ve got a lot in common.

Yours,

Bucky

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Dear Bucky,

It’s not as if I spend my time between letters pining for you, so I’m sure it makes no difference to me how often they come. It just means I’ll have more time to not reread your other letters several dozen times.

The news reels! And the papers! I don’t know which are my favorite. With the papers, I can cut out the pictures to hang up and the articles to show off to anyone who looks at me with too much pity. And the news reels! Poor Steve looks so uncomfortable when they shove the camera in his face. But it’s so good to see you both together again.

And your new friends look very tough, but they have humor lines in their faces that makes me think they don’t take themselves too seriously. I’m glad you have them. You look very handsome and serious in your new coat. I know you’re not really in the right place for it, but I hope you still get to laugh sometimes.

And I’m sure this is silly but there was a moment when you looked directly at the camera and tapped your lips. It was just a second, but I almost thought that might have been for me. That secret message you mentioned. But you wouldn’t do that, would you? Make me think about that moment on the docks when you told me to save those words we don’t say? Hmm. I bet Clark Gable would let me say them.

James Buchanan Barnes, why on Earth are you telling stories about me? How embarrassing. What have you been telling them? And I’m certainly not a Mrs. Barnes, nor have either of us ever considered I could be, of course. I hope they know that. Absurd.

Sweet on Betty! She adored the news! Though judging by the look in her eyes, he’s in for quite a letter. I do hope he’s prepared. And if you’ll tell me the rest of their information, I will write to each and every one of them. If they’re looking out for you, they certainly deserve it. And there are some things I’m sure they’ll need to know when it comes to handling James Buchanan Barnes.

I don’t know if I changed my lipstick. You’ll have to come back and find out for yourself if you want that very vital piece of information.

Thank you for the news about Benjamin! Louise was so grateful to know that you’d seen him with your own eyes, and that he seemed to be doing okay. You never can tell these days, especially when men write letters the way that you do. A lot in common, indeed. When did you fall in love with Louise?

Not Mrs. Barnes,

Y/N

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Things went on like this for over a year. Sometimes you’d get a letter each month, sometimes several months would pass before an envelope stuffed to bursting would arrive for you. Bucky took to writing every day, compiling notes until he was able to send them all back home to you at once.

True to your word, you kept up a cheerful and supportive correspondence with each member of Captain America’s new team, including of course the man himself. From them you collected stories that made you laugh interspersed with the occasional moment of sincerity.

Steve sent you the shortest letters, but there was always a sketch at the bottom. Bucky rolling his eyes at Dum Dum. Bucky fixing his hair. Bucky with a letter pressed to his lips.

Eventually the wall by your bed began to resemble the one you’d seen in Bucky’s bedroom, though with a decidedly different focus. You eventually opted to just leave the loose floorboard off and propped against the wall for easier access to your growing collection of letters after one desperate late-night search had yielded two splinters and a few frustrated tears.

Eventually, a tradition arose. You spread the word each time you received a letter, and Betty, Louise, Rebecca, and even Winifred would gather that evening in your kitchen to write notes together. Bucky had his team, and you had yours.

Betty kept the night lighthearted by verbally brainstorming all the jokes and terrible teasing she could include in her own letters, and Winifred surprised you all by suggesting clever barbs of her own while maintaining her perfectly innocent expression. Louise was good at identifying when her skill for emotional expression was needed and discreetly providing assistance. Rebecca generally kept you from slipping too far into sentiment, but she had kindly created a diversion on one memorable occasion when Bucky attempted poetry and you’d found yourself in desperate need of privacy.

And one day in April of 1945, you received a letter you would remember for the rest of your life.

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

Doll,

I’m sorry it’s been so long since I last had a chance to write. I hope you weren’t too worried. But I promise it was worth the wait.

We’ve been covering ground quickly and making a lot of progress, and I think we’ve finally finished what we came together to do. It’s over, honey. I think it’s finally over. We’re coming home soon. By the time you get this, I might already be on my way, thinking how if the boat doesn’t start going faster I might jump out and swim. If I’m too tired for that, I might have a word with the captain and say “I’m sorry sir, but you’re going to need to speed things up. I’ve got a gal back home waiting on me to kiss her, and I’d like to arrive before she changes her mind.”

I’m coming home for you, sweetheart. Like I always promised. Go ahead and brief Mrs. Tanner on the situation so she can start practicing her eavesdropping again. Not to sound arrogant, but I think I was always her favorite subject. She’ll finally get her entertainment back when I spend every night sleeping on the stairs so I can be close to you again. Maybe set out those blue curtains for me so I can have them as a blanket until we find a place to hang them. I hope you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you because I have a feeling I’ll be sticking to you so close you might as well carry me around in your handbag.

And hug Lady Liza as tight as she can for me. I know it might sound ridiculous, but there was a moment during a mission about a month ago when it seemed like everything was about to go very wrong. And I was about to pick up Steve’s shield when I remembered what Betty said to me. Do you remember? About the bad penny that catches your eye in the middle of the street? So I left the shield and went for Steve instead. And it’s probably nothing, but that night I felt like I had escaped something. Like something big was supposed to happen that day. I know it’s nothing serious, but give her a hug for me just in case.

Tell Louise that the war is almost over, so she’ll have her Benjamin home soon too. And ask her to schedule a girl’s night for after I get home. I’ve missed too many of them. I need a new ribbon for my hair.

Life won’t go back to how it was before, I know that. I know that I’ve changed, and I’m sure you have too. But the way I feel never has. And if you’re still willing to give me a chance, I know we can build something for ourselves that’s even better than what we had before. One panel of curtains at a time.

I’ll be seeing you real soon, doll.

Love always,

Your Bucky

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Oooooh god. Oh god. How are we feeling? Sound off! Who’s not dead? Come scream with me because there’s only one part left, and I’m EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT!

Chapter 15

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Tags: @aubzylynn @shifutheshihtzu @internalbullshit @lilasiannerd @kennadance14 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @iwillbeinmynest @wiintershero @scotlandasshole @netflixa @hardcorehippos @singingprincessstudent @sophiealiice @blue1928 @tinuviel015 @jacks-on-krack @a-book-pressed-rose @fvckjamesbarnes @bbparker @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @feelmyroarrrr @breezy1415 @notimetoblog @cherrynat @multifandomgirl-us @teenybucks @angryteapot @nomadicpixel @raven-ur-mum @notimetoblog @vintagepigeon @withahintofpestoaioli @kindaace @sadanddeadsoul @thinkwritexpress-official @promarvelfangirl @orangespocks @multifandomgirl-us @majesticavenger @creideamhgradochas @buckybarneshairpullingkink

#bucky barnes x reader #40s bucky #40s!bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes imagine

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