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helen-with-an-a · 4 months

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Something About Finals pt 2

Hiya. So this is Part 2 of Something About Finals. This was originally all 1 story but then it was almost 10K so oops. Anyways, have 2 stories ahahah

shout out to @lyak12 for fixing my google translated German

Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2

Description: R and Finals do not get along

Word Count: 6.3k

also these pictures are doing something to me

And then you were off to the World Cup.

You were shocked to receive the phone call that informed you, you had made the final squad. Lena wasn’t though, she had seen the hours of work that you had put in, the dedication, the effort, the blood, sweat and tears. You had kissed her goodbye much like you had done before the Euros, reassuring each other that no matter what, you were there, and you loved the other with all your heart. You weren’t able to watch many of her matches since you often had some form of training or your own matches that got in the way. But you always had the score notifications on. England sailed through the group stages with comparative ease … well definitely easier than Germany had. You had flicked on the final seconds of her match to see Lena sink to her knees. You heart broke for her, a lump forming in your throat as you saw the love of your life look so devastated. You sent her a quick text asking her to call you when she had a moment and reaffirming your love.

“Hey, bubba,” you said softly as her facetime call connected.

“Hi, liebling.” You had never heard her sound so … down. Even after losing the Champions League and the Euros, there was still a little life to her voice. But not now. Now, she sounded so low, so unlike your usual Lena.

“It’s not your fault, you know that, right?” You cut straight to the point. You knew what would be going through her mind. She wouldn’t make eye contact with you through the phone. “Obi, my love. Das ist nicht deine Schuld.” You said emphatically.

“But, if I had just-” She started, trying to prove to you that it really was her fault

“Lena Sophie Oberdorf,” you snapped. “I will not hear it. Das ist nicht. Deine. Schuld.” She nodded but you could tell she didn’t believe you. You carried the rest of the phone call, telling her about the silly in-camp gossip and drama, nearly pulling out a whole stand up show to get her to laugh, or at least smile again. You had ended the conversation as the clock flashed 12, probably a bit too late for you to be up but you wanted to keep talking for as long as possible.

“Bubba, I need to go to sleep,” you said as you went about your night routine, grateful that FIFA had splurged on giving you your own rooms for the tournament.

“Don’t go,” she whined, equally as tired but just as unwilling to hang up the phone.

“Ok, honey. How about I stay on the phone until you fall asleep, yeh?” You could see her perk up slightly, despite the dark circles under her eyes that told you she was not getting enough sleep in the past few weeks. You waited until you heard her breaths even out, her phone in a similar position to you resting against the pillow. You smiled softly, wishing her sweet dreams as you hung up the phone. You sent two texts before you snuggled down to sleep yourself. One to Lena for her to see in the morning, telling her how proud you were of her and how much you loved her. The other was to Alex, sending her the biggest hugs and asking her to keep an eye on Lena for you until you could make it back to her.

The World Cup was a rollercoaster of emotions. But now you were in the final. Just like the Euro final, there was an aura of nervous calm across the England changing rooms … if that was even the best way to describe it. Everyone was doing their pre-match rituals and routine, getting themselves in the right headspace to step foot on the pitch. But there was a nervousness in the air, the anticipation of finally gaining that star above the badge.

Everything was not going to plan. You were still 1-0 down with just 5 minutes left of regular time. Hermoso had the ball as you crowded her out, pressing yourself against her to toe the ball away from her. You had succeeded too, letting Kiera tap it over to Georgia to start another press. You had the weirdest sense of Déjà vu as you turned around, separating yourself from the Spanish defender and moving into the open space. You gasped as you twisted, something popping in your right knee. The familiar pain radiated down your shin and up your thigh causing you to scream as you collapsed to the floor.

No, no, no. Not again. This could not be happening again.

“Kid, what’s wrong?” It was Lucy who appeared by your side first, exactly like the last time.

“Not again.” You whimpered, letting out a sob as you hit your fist on the grass, trying to push the pain away.

“Is it your knee?” Millie asked. This was all too similar to last time and it made you cry even harder. You couldn’t tell if you were nodding or not, but Millie just scratched your head. Just like last time. “It’s ok, honey. The medics are coming.” She patted your hand as you clutched at it. You groaned and whimpered as the medics moved you around, never letting go of Millie and staring straight at Lucy, the layer of tears making it hard to see properly.

Just like last time, the hideous orange stretcher lifted you away as you were clapped off the pitch. Just like last time, you were carried into the medical room and placed on the awaiting bed.

“Kid?” A voice called out as they ran down the corridor. Someone must have pointed whoever it was in the right direction as the next moment, a very flustered and out of breath Leah appeared, phone gripped in one hand. “Yeh, I’m with her now," she directed to whoever was on the phone. “Honey, I’ve got Lena on the phone," she said as she came to your side. You nodded, wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

“Hey, liebling.”

“H-hi.” It set you off on another round of tears, Leah drawing you into her.

“Oh, liebe. It’s ok.” Lena said so gently as she tried to fight her own tears.

She was sitting on the couch in your flat back in Wolfsburg watching the final with most of the team. The disappointment she felt when the ball bounced past Mary’s fingers was nothing compared to the fear she felt as you went to the floor. Not again. Please don’t let this happen again. She thanked the lucky stars she had the forethought years ago to ask for a few of your national friends phone numbers in case she needed to get a hold of you but couldn’t during international breaks. She had just pulled out her phone when Leah’s contact flashed on her screen. She accepted it before she really knew what was happening.

“I’m going down to see her now,” is what Leah had said as soon as the call went through. Alex had rubbed comforting circles on Lena’s back as Jule held tightly onto her open hand.

“Let me switch to facetime,” Leah said, gently taking the phone off you and pressing the right buttons. Lena’s concerned face popped up, taking in Leah’s frazzled expression and your hair pressed against her shoulder, hiding your face from the world. “C’mon, honey.” Leah coaxed you out from her neck, handing you her phone and moving to step away.

“Stay.” You croaked, clutching onto Leah like a lifeline. She nodded, moving her arms to support you as you rested your head back on her shoulder.

“Hallo, liebling.” Lena started again, moving off the sofa and into your bedroom, the soft expression of love visible on her features. “It is your knee?” You sniffed, nodding at her words. She hadn’t seen you look this small, this unsure … ever, she doesn’t think.

“I don’t think I can do this again,” you whispered. Leah knew you were talking to Lena, but she couldn’t help but squeeze you even tighter at your words, her heart breaking. Only you and Lena knew of the extent of your bad days. The days that getting out of bed seemed like too much effort and all you wanted to do was sleep and embrace the darkness. The days were all you could do was silently cry, gripping onto Lena so tightly your knuckles had turned white, and your fingers had started to cramp.

“Das kannst du, liebling. Das kannst du auf jeden Fall. Erinnerst du dich, an das, was ich nach dem EM-Finale gesagt habe? Du schaffst das, und ich gehe nirgendwo hin, du nusst das nicht alleine schaffen.”

“It hurts, bubba.”

“I know, liebe. I know.” Lena implored, Leah squeezing you again at you words. “Aber, du bist so, so stark. Du kannst das.” You shook your head, letting the tears roll steadily down your cheeks. “Ich liebe dich so sehr.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your lashes wet and face red. Did she really mean that? How could she love you after all you had put her through in the past year? Why would she want to stay with you after the nightmare you had been? And now, you were going to put her through it all again. You had clearly disappeared into your mind, certainly enough for Lena to notice. You eyes had unfocused, a faraway look on your face as the thoughts spiralled out of control. You couldn’t do this again. The last time was almost too much to bear. This time … you couldn’t let yourself lean on Lena like you did … she wouldn’t want you to. Why would anyone want a washed-up 21-year-old footballer as their girlfriend? Why would someone want a partner who struggled to keep the bad thoughts at bay? Your breathing had slowed down, the breaths coming far fewer than necessary.

“Hey, hey. Komm zu mir zurück.” Lena called out, catching Leah’s eye in the camera, and exchanging worried looks. Leah shook you gently when you made no effort to acknowledge what Lena had said. You jumped slightly, clearly coming back to the room around you.

“Ich denke … I think … ich denke das könnte mich kaputt machen.” You whispered, sounding so scared of what the future might hold. It was easier to say in your second language. It made it less real.

“Dann werde ich da sein, um dich wieder aufzubauen.” Lena promised. “We all will be.” You looked at her unsurely. How could she promise that? “I know what you’re thinking … stop it.” You looked away sheepishly, turning into Leah more. “I love you more than you will ever, ever understand,” Lena said emphatically, willing you to feel her love even though you were more than 10,000 miles away. She wanted nothing more than to be there in person. She should have stayed in Australia. She should have been at the final, cheering you on. She should have been in that small medical room, letting you cry into her chest.

A throat cleared from the door, a man in the England medical staff shirt sheepishly stuck his head through the gap.

“I’m sorry, duck. But we gotta run some more tests and stuff. Get you strapped up and whatnot.” His broad Yorkshire accent echoed in the small space. You nodded, looking up at Leah, then back to her phone.

“We’ll just be a minute,” Leah smiled at him. He frowned then realisation dawned on him. He smiled at you and shut the door.

“Bubba, I’ve got to go.” You said shyly.

“Ok, liebling. Stay safe, ja?” She smiled; even through the pixels, you could tell it wasn’t meeting her eyes all the way.

“Stets,” you replied automatically. “Ich liebe dich.”

“Ich liebe dich auch.”

“Don’t worry, Lena. She’s in safe hands until we can get her back to Germany,” Leah smiled, rubbing her hands up and down your arms and winking into the camera.

“She better be, Williamson. If she doesn’t make it home to me in one piece, England will never get their captain back.” She faux-threatened, grateful to see the small smile gracing you lips.

The flight back to Germany was nothing like the flight home from the Euros. Instead of Lena guiding you through the airport, sending intimidating glares at anyone in your path, you had Leah and Jill. Leah was absolutely useless. You gave her a little bit of grace considering she was still very much recovering from her own ACL injury but still, she was completely unhelpful and very much not the safe hands that she had promised Lena. Jill was … less useless. She at least took the initiative to wheel your suitcases along for you and helped guide you through to the right gate. But she was a horrible flyer. She was nervous and that led to the constant need to fidget. When she eventually fell asleep, it had been on your shoulder, pinning you in place for the majority of the flight which did not help you swollen knee. You had never been more grateful to hear the Captain announce your descent into Braunschweig airport. You were so thankful that Leah and Jill had diverted their flights to Wolfsburg for you instead of flying straight to Gatwick, but you couldn’t help the desire for them to, in the nicest way possible, fuck off. They were constantly bothering you; they were always checking if you needed anything or wanted something. You knew they meant well, and you were so, so appreciative of their efforts but it was very irritating when all you wanted to do was sleep away the flights and layovers.

Seeing Lena at the arrivals gate was like a breath of fresh air, like breaking the surface of a pool after being under for too long, like stepping into an air-conditioned room on a hot summers day.

“Hey, liebling.”

“Hi, bubba.” You crutched your way into her embrace, her warm, soft, strong arms cementing themselves around your shoulders as you buried your nose in her hoodie, taking deep breaths of your favourite smell, letting the scent seep into your bones and ease your aching muscles.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to ours? We’ve got a pull-out couch and an air mattress.” She asked over your shoulder to Leah and Jill.

“Nah, it’s all good mate. We’ve got flights and stuff tomorrow so we’re just staying at the hotel here.” Leah explained. You lifted your head out of your hiding place and extending one arm towards Leah. She took you hand, and you squeezed tightly.

“Thank you.” You said to her, sending a tired smile her way. She smiled back.

“Of course, kid. You know I’d do anything for you, we all would.”

“Stay safe, yeh? Have lots of rest and drink plenty of water.” Jill reminded you, taking your hand from Leah and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Yes, mum.” You teased lightly, although Lena knew it was only a façade, an attempt to prove you were fine.

“Love you lots, kiddo.”

“Love you too, guys.” You watched them both walk away before turning back to Lena, never once leaving her embrace.

“Willkommen zu Hause, superstar,” Lena whispered in your ear, smiling as your arms tightened around her waist. “Let’s get you home, liebling.”

“Just … wait. Let me stay here for a minute.” You refused to loosen your grip. You took deep steady breaths that Lena could tell was your attempt at pushing away the darkness.

Eventually, you did make it home, Lena’s hand on your thigh the entire time. The movement of the car, Lena’s soft hum as she sang alone to the radio, the comforting smell … all of it was too much. As you entered your flat, you couldn’t help but let the tears flow. You had been doing that a lot recently. Your knee was hot and sore, the brace was itchy and ugly, Lena was too kind and comforting, you were tired and angry and scared and sad, and it was all too much.

“Liebe?” Lena asked as she came back from the bedroom. She rushed over to where you stood, in the middle of the tiny living room hysterically sobbing. “Oh, liebling.” She didn’t promise you it was all ok, that you were fine and that things would work out in the end. She knew that was not what you wanted to hear. “Es kann sein, dass es dir im Moment nicht gut geht,” she said as she pulled you to her, letting your tears soak her collar. “I can be ok for the both of us, right now,” she vowed. “I’m not going anywhere. You are safe. You are loved.”

You didn’t know how long you stood in the middle of your tiny flat with Lena whispering sweet nothings in your ear, but you did end up in bed, your leg elevated and iced and your girlfriend curling herself around you.

“I’m scared, bubba. Really, really scared,” you whispered into the darkness, long after you should have gone to sleep.

“And that’s ok, liebling. It’s ok to be scared. What happened was really scary, especially so close to last time.” She whispered back, her fingers drawing shapes on the exposed skin of your waist. Only 385 days in between tearing your left ACL and snapping your right one. 1 year and 20 days. 55 weeks. 9240 hours. 554,400 minutes. 33,264,000 seconds. “I love you. And I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.

The next year of your life was the hardest you had ever done. Every time the shadows threatened to overwhelm you, to engulf your entire being and never let you back into the light, Lena was there. She didn’t even realise most of the time. The first few days after returning from Australia was tough but manageable. You had cried some more … a lot more, especially after you shut the door behind Jule and Sveindís as they left your home. It was controllable up until Lena had to go back to preseason training. She had delayed it as long as she could, the club had allowed her a few days to help you resettle into your routine. When her alarm chimed at 8 am that Monday morning, you knew it was going to a rough one. The tiredness, the ache that had settled deep within your soul felt extra heavy. Lena had been reluctant to leave you, and you had wanted her to stay so, so desperately but you slapped on a brave face and watched her from underneath your mound of blankets on the couch as she went about her morning routine. Bathroom. Shower. Coffee. Breakfast. Bathroom again. Out the door. It was a routine the two of you had mastered years ago had hardly ever deviated, yet here you were – catching the kisses she blew your way as she left for the day.

You had tried really hard to keep the darkness away, and you had almost … almost achieved it. It wasn’t until one late afternoon, a week or so before the regular season began, when you had tried to make yourself a cup of hot chocolate and had splashed boiling water of the side of the cup and dropped the mug that everything came to a head.

You were angry, and frightened, and unsure, and in so much pain. You screamed. It hurt your throat, but you didn’t care. You yelled, cursing the universe for doing this to you. It was pure emotion that bubbled up inside. You tugged at your hair, you scratched deep red lines across your stomach, rubbed harshly at your eyes. Anything … anything to make these feelings disappear. You didn’t even realise Lena had come home. She knew you hadn’t been doing well. The physio had pulled her aside after your session to ask for help. Every member of the team, staff and players alike, had recognised your slow descent into the blackness. It wasn’t like the previous time. You had been optimistic last time, excited to be reaching your milestones and goals. But this time it was a struggle to get you into the training centre, let alone the gym and to do any exercises. You weren’t yourself and it was painfully obvious that something was wrong.

She rushed to your side, dropping her bags carelessly on her way over.

“Ok, ok,” she shushed you, wrapping her arms tightly around you to stop yourself from hurting you even more. You struggled at first, out of shock or anger neither one of you was really sure. But you slowly started to calm down. Her body ground you, the warmth at you back providing an anchor to cling to. She rocked you gently from side to side, mindful of your knee but knowing the action soothed you. She stayed silent until you leant heavily against her, most of your weight now being held by her.

“I need help.” It was all you could say. This was no way to live, and you knew that. That’s what made it worse for you was that you knew you weren’t ok; you knew you needed some serious assistance and had been needing it for quite a while. She hummed in agreement, thankful that you could recognise how bad it was.

“We can talk about it later. But first a shower, and then snuggles in bed.” There was no room for argument, not when she was already guiding you to the bathroom. The shower was hot and steamy as Lena cleaned your skin with her body wash, littering kisses as the water washed the suds away. She massaged your head as she worked the shampoo and conditioner through your hair, taking care to untangle the knots. She worked your moisturiser across your body, taking time to go through your neglected skincare regime and pull the softest t-shirt she owned over your head. She took your hand as she guided you to the bedroom, picking up your brush and hairdryer on the way to the vanity. She was so gentle as she dried your hair, braiding it back for you once it was dried. She settled you against the pillows before she slipped in beside you, resting her head against your collarbone and throwing a leg across your waist.

“I’m sorry.” You stared at the ceiling trying very hard not to cry, instead letting your fingers card through the brown strands of hair that were loose down her back.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she argued softly, squeezing you as she made her point

“Yes, I have. I’ve been a shite girlfriend.”

“No, you haven’t. You’ve been going through some real shit.”

“But,”

“Nein. Ich werde es nicht hören,” she refused, drawing shapes on your arm. “You have been through hell and back, yet you always ask about my day. You always stand next to me when I make dinner. You always hold me at night. You always let me choose what to watch on TV, even if you don’t like it. It might be a little dark for you right now, but I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. I told you I was in this for as long as you want me, remember?”

“Of course, I do.” How could you forget your unconventional way of getting together?

“And do you still want me?” she asked.

“Of course, I do.” You repeated, kind of shocked that she would ask such a thing. “I want you forever.”

“Then you have me forever. I’m not going anywhere, and it’s time you started realising that.” You blinked rapidly, trying not to cry for a totally different reason.

“You are perfect, Lena Oberdorf.”

“You are perfect, Y/F/N Y/S/N.” You pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I think I need to talk to a professional, like go to therapy or something.” You said a little while later. Neither of you had moved, just soaking up each other’s presence.

“I think that a very smart idea,” she answered, choosing her words carefully. “Do you want it to be with the club or completely separate?”

“I don’t know,” you worried. You hadn’t really got that far in your thinking, you only recognised that you needed the professional intervention.

“That’s ok,” she reassured you. “The club can recommend someone, like a ... Sportpsychologe, or you can go to the doctors and sort something out by yourself.”

“Would … would you come with me to talk to the club doctors?” You asked. It was silly really, she spent almost every waking hour reminding you that she was by your side.

“Natürlich. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else … unless you want to be alone,” she rushed.

“No, no. I want you there. You keep the bad thoughts away.” You had never told her that, you were sure she knew it in some way.

The next morning, you felt lighter, the ache in your body not as pronounced as previous days. Lena walked with you to the medics office, standing like a silent lighthouse to guide you through the choppy waters. She kissed you softly as you parted for training, her going out with the rest of the team as you went to the gym. It was a sudden change; it wasn’t like a switch had been flicked and suddenly you were all better. But with every passing training session and talk with the therapist, you stood slightly taller, you no longer looked at the weights with distain, you huffed at jokes and eventually started laughing again. You still had your dark days, but things were slowly looking up. The storm was clearing for you, the path more clear with every little success. Walking on one crutch. Walking with no crutches. Weighted exercises. Running on the treadmill with assistance. Running on the treadmill without assistance. Progress was slow, much slower than last time, but it was happening, nonetheless.

The biggest factor in your progress came from an unexpected source. Lena had been approached by her agent in November about an offer from Bayern. The two of you had talked it through at length and came to the conclusion that she should go for it. You had lamented over the idea of long distance, but you knew your love was one for the ages. If Lena could put up with you during the dark days (although she hated when described it as putting up with you. It had been the spark of a few arguments), you knew you could last the time. You still had a year left on your contract for you to be going on a free, so you also reached out to your agent to tell him to start the process of looking at a potential move. It was then that he said an email had come through from another team in Germany looking to sign you. You had questioned the legitimacy; how could a club want to sign you when you had so little playing time? You cried when the forwarded email arrived in your inbox. Bayern wanted you too. The email explained that they were willing to spend the necessary money to get both you and Lena on their team, recognising the undeniable chemistry you had. It was true; almost every goal Lena scored when you were on the pitch, you had been involved in. It was a no brainer – you were phoning the agency back to accept the deal before you even spoke to Lena. You kept it under lock and key for about 2 weeks, making sure your surprise was perfect.

“Liebling?” Lena shouted as she walked through the door, confused as to your location. Normally, when you were home before she was, you were either making a start on dinner or on the couch – both of which were visible from the entryway.

“Nur eine Minute,” you shouted, voice coming from the closed bedroom door. “Sit on the sofa please, I have something to show you.” Lena did what she was told, highly puzzled by your behaviour. Was she missing some important date? She quickly ran through the key ones in her mind, your birthday? No, her birthday? No, that was in December, your anniversary? No, that was in between Christmas and New Year's. Valentines Day? No, it was only mid-January. In all her worrying, she had missed you walking out of the bedroom. You waited for her to notice you and when that was not forthcoming, you nudged her gently with your foot. She jumped slightly, looking up at you. She drank in your smooth bare legs, blinking in surprise and smirking appreciatively when she realised that you only had on a shirt, your hair fluffed up and makeup done to perfection.

“What’s all this?” she asked, reaching out to hold your hips. You stepped back, chuckling at her pout.

“Look at my shirt, bubba,” you nodded down at your chest, hoping she would catch the logo. As she scanned up the red fabric, she began to recognise the material, the infamous Allianz logo splattered across your torso had the gears turning in her head. Finally, she made eye contact with the Bayern logo.

“Ein Bayern-Trikot?” You span around, showing her your back – although she was more focussed on your exposed arse than whose name was on it. “I am loving the view, liebe,” she teased.

“No, dipshit. Whose name is on the back?” She reluctantly broke her stare and scanned the writing.

“Y/S/N? Liebling, I don’t think Wolfsburg will like you wearing a personalised Bayern shirt.” God, she could be dense at times.

“No, bubs,” you sighed, turning back to face her and shoving lightly on her shoulders. She shuffled back on the couch, allowing you to straddle her lap. Her hands automatically went to your waist, although the confused expression still lingered on her features.

“You can be so thick sometimes, Obi,” you laughed at her offended squawk. “I got an email from my agent a few weeks ago,” you explained, pulling her hair out her ponytail. “I’ve got an offer,” you hinted, playing with the ends of her now-loose strands. You raised an eyebrow, looking from her to the logo on your shirt and back again.

“B-Bayern?” She whispered, trying to keep the hope and excitement at bay.

“Bayern,” you nodded, a wide grin spreading across your face.

“Scheisse … oh, mein Gott. Oh, mein Gott!” She launched her body forward, slamming you into a hug. “You’re going to Bayern?” She asked, her voice muffled by the fabric.

“We’re going to Bayern,” you corrected, drawing her head away from your collarbone.

“Ich liebe dich,” Her eyes flitted between yours and your lips.

“I love you,” you drew her to you, relishing in the quite hum she let out.

It took until the spring for you to start training with the team again. Lena had been with you the whole time. If you thought she was excited the first-time round, she was on cloud 9 this time. She had been buzzing with energy when you told her you were to go out on the grass again. You could see her practically vibrating with joy as you slipped on your underused boots again. She had bounded over to you, chatting away and generally irritating everyone, but her energy was infectious. Running again after so long was … words could not describe the feeling.

Slowly but surely, you were returning back to your old self. You and Tommy had sat down with the medical team discuss your return to match squad. You were performing well at training and things were looking up. You felt ready for the ‘less important’ matches. With the league mathematically won by Bayern with 2 match days to spare, Wolfsburg were more willing to let you return sooner rather than later. But with the Pokal final being the only chance at silverware, the management was reluctant to even sub you in. And honestly, you weren’t sure you were ready for a final just yet. The last three finals you had played in, the Euros, the Champions League, and the World Cup, had not gone your way, two of them being the worst games of your life. You agreed to be on the bench as an unused sub, you knew you had to start getting over the phobia and figured this would be a good way to start – just being in the atmosphere of a final with no pressure to play or perform. You could do that.

You stuck to your old match day routine, the known comforts helping to calm your nerves. It all started with the pitch inspection with Lena, hands brushing together as you walked too close to just be friends, although you had quickly darted over to see Georgia.

“Are you playing?” Georgia asked.

“What? No, oh my god, hi, I haven’t seen you in so long?” you teased, hugging her tightly.

“Hi,” she said bluntly, “are you playing?” squeezing you back just as tightly.

“No,” you shook your head. “Apparently, I’m to view this as a form of exposure therapy.” She looked at you quizzically. “Doing your ACL twice, both of which in a final, kinda fucks with your head,” you joked. She nodded solemnly. “Also, I have some news,” you added. “But you better keep your bloody mouth shut though, Stanway,” you pointed a finger at her. “No telling Leah or Kei or Luce or anyone else until at least the end of the season,” you threatened.

“Alright, alright, what’s the big news then, if it’s so top secret?”

“I got an offer, I’m leaving Wolfsburg.”

“Oh, my god. Where to?” She squealed. You had voiced your concerns to her over the phone about staying in Wolfsburg without Lena.

“Um …” you took a deep breath. “Bayern,” you said confidently. She paused, her mouth open slightly.

“You’re moving to Bayern?” She screeched.

“Lock and key, Stanway,” you emphasised but nodding and smiling anyway. You looked over your shoulder when you heard Lena call your name. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you soon, yeah?” You hugged her again.

“Love you lots and lots,” she said, shaking you jokingly.

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, hope you play like shite,” you jested, laughing as she flipped you off.

The final was going well, you remained calm and collected. Lena had brushed your hair into your usual hairstyle, taking care to smooth your fly aways down. You returned the favour by lacing up her boots, pressing kisses to each knee as you finished. Things were going swimmingly, until Lena got tangled up with the Bayern keeper, and fell to the ground.

“Mein Knie.” You heard her shout from all away across the pitch. You blood froze, your heart sank. No, no, no, this could not … no. You reached blindly for Sveindís as the medics ran on, your eyes never leaving Lena’s body.

“It’s ok, she’s fine.” Sveindís promised, squeezing your hand.

“Her knee,” you croaked.

“Sie bewegt sich, siehst du, die Sanitäter sind jetzt bei ihr. Sie redet, sie bewegt sich. She’s ok.” Marina squeezed your shoulder from behind you, sending you a comforting smile, despite the fact you couldn’t see it. You kept your eyes on her even as she stood up, flexing her knee and walking off the pitch with the medics. Despite reassurances from all the team and the medical staff who had treated her, you never looked away from Lena. You had to make sure she was ok. You stared at her face, trying to register any slight look of discomfort.

When the half time whistle went, you were the first out of your seat, hovering by the tunnel entrance for Lena to appear. She must have seen your anxiousness from a mile away. You were fidgeting with your fingers, biting your lip as you scanned the incoming players.

“Hey,” she said, tapping you on the shoulder. You careened into her, your arms tightening around her waist. “I’m ok. I’m ok,” she repeated over and over again, her hand rubbing up and down your back, feeling you shakily take breaths to stop any waterworks.

“Don’t ever do that again!” You pulled back from her, keeping her in an embracing though.

“I’ll try not to,” she chuckled at your seriousness.

“I mean it, bubba. That was terrifying.” Your mouth setting to a firm line and eyebrows furrowing.

“I know, liebling. And I’m sorry I caused you so much stress.” She let her thumb move across your cheek. “Aber ich verspreche dir, mir geht es absolut gut. My knees are ok, your knees are ok. Alles ist gut.”

“Fucking hate finals,” you grumbled, twisting your body so you could walk back to the changing room without letting go.

“Ich weiß, dass du das tust, Liebling, ich weiß."

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

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milaisreading · 11 months

Text

Yandere!Sae Itoshi x Reader

🌱🩷: As promised, here is the Halloween special story I wrote. Hope u all enjoy it! Thanks for reading 🩷

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. There are talks of murder here, so under 18 and everyone uncomfortable with this topic, please don't read.

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Fall was finally upon Tokyo, and there was nothing (Y/n) more enjoyed than a nice stroll through the city while the cold air hit her face. It was specifically October 31st, Halloween day. And while (Y/n) wasn't much of a fan of that day, mainly because of the pranks, she couldn't deny that she was fond of the decorations, food, and shows. Shibuya was specifically the most visited place during this time of the day, due to all the attractions. Kids and teens were laughing, wearing different costumes varying from princesses to trolls, and adults were either watching over them, or just mindlessly walking around to admire everything. (Y/n) didn't really prepare anything for that day, she just recently arrived from Germany for a week off, and just wanted to rest and enjoy the moment. She planned on enjoying this day alone, but she messaged Rin 2 days prior and found out he was back in Japan, too. The two had then agreed to meet up on this day, since Shibuya will be packed with people, and Rin would have less chances in being recognized.

'At least I hope Rin plans work.' She chuckled and went into a shop to look through some clothes.

"I still have 3 hours till I meet up with Rin." She muttered.

Sae hummed as he drained the water out of the bathtub. He yawned as he walked out of the bathroom to pick out some clothes he could wear tonight. Sae wasn't someone who really cared about dressing up, especially when it's about meeting someone, but this was different. Tonight was the night he would start his plan on making (Y/n) fall for him. The prodigy had to admit that he never expected to fall for anyone, much less the former manager of a football project. But it happened. The more Sae observed the progress of Blue Lock, the more he paid attention to the staff, mainly to (Y/n).

'Well, it is Rin's fault. If he hadn't been so secretive about her, I would have moved on.' The boy blushed a little as he put on his shirt, thinking of the girl. She was... interesting to Sae. She was smart, beautiful, and witty when needed. She was almost flawless in Sae's eyes, almost. The only flaw (Y/n) had is that she wasn't his, but... he will fix that soon.

'With Rin out of the way, my plan on making her mine forever will be a lot easier.' Sae smirked as he remembered the last fight him and Rin had 2 nights ago. It was a normal (?) siblings fight, if you ask Sae. The older Itoshi found out Rin asked (Y/n) out on a date, they started shouting, and before you know it, Rin had a knife stabbed in his chest. Sae had killed his brother. The boy didn't even know how things even played out, all he knows is that Rin shouted something at him, which caused Sae to snap and take the big kitchen knife. So, for the past 2 days Sae had spent his time cleaning up the kitchen, getting a new knife, getting rid of the used one, and at the end he had to get rid of Rin's body. To Sae, that was probably the hardest part, but with a few tools, garbage bags and random chemicals it was possible to do. Sae estimates that it might take a long while till anyone finds his brother's body.

'After all, who visits the deepest pits of the forest these days.'

Sae chuckled and dialed (Y/n)'s number, preparing to say the speech he prepared for the past 5 hours.

2 days before...

"I know what you are planning." Rin sent Sae a sharp glare as the older ate his dinner in boredom. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea of the Itoshi parents to leave their sons alone for a week, but oh well.

"What do you mean?" Sae finally asked.

"I know you want to get with (Y/n). And I am here to tell you, you won't ever have her."

Rin smirked as Sae raised an eyebrow, putting his chopsticks down.

"What make you say that? Then who will have her you? Or one of those pathetic Blue Lock players? Don't make me laugh." Sae rolled his eyes.

"Of course it will be me." Rin said confidently.

"For your information, Sae, (Y/n) knows me better than you. When she comes to our matches, she is there to cheer me on. When she is in Japan, she calls me to meet up." Rin chuckled, not noticing Sae's hands slowly twitch. He was always good with his resting face.

"And when walks down the isle eventually, she will do it because of me. Because I will be always (Y/n)'s pick. Not you. You are insignificant to her."

Sae didn't know what had possessed him to grab the knife, but he did. With a never before seen speed and strength, Sae was quickly in front of Rin and tackled him to the ground. The younger tried to fight his brother off of him, but he couldn't. All Rin saw at the end was a crazed smile on Sae's face as the older repeatedly stabbed him.

"Looks like your little dreams of (Y/n) will stay only that. Dreams." Sae laughed as he got off of Rin. The younger's eyes wide in panic as he slowly took his final breaths. Knife still stabbed into his chest as a pool of blood surrounded him.

Present day...

"I still can't believe Rin has a girlfriend." (Y/n) said while drinking her got chocolate. Sae sat across from her, trying to keep his usual stoic expression on.

'Cute.' He thought and clearer his throat.

"Yeah. That idiot couldn't wait to see her so he left earlier. Again, I am really sorry he didn't call you earlier."

"It's fine. You don't need to apologize. I just wish I knew sooner so that I could tease him. Oh well, maybe the next time I see him." (Y/n) laughed as Sae shrugged his shoulders.

"For sure. But in the meantime, do you want to have dinner tomorrow? I saw that a new restaurant opened in Roppongi."

(Y/n) put her cup down and slowly nodded her head.

"Sure, I have no other plans for the next few days. But wouldn't it be boring with me for 2 days in a row-"

Sae shook his head and gently took one of her hands.

"Not at all." He gave the girl a tiny smile, causing a blush to erupt on her face.

"O-oh... ok, then!"

'Finally we are going somewhere. Should have gotten rid of that nuisance a long time ago.' Sae thought, holding back a smirk.

#bllk #blue lock anime #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #yandere blue lock #yandere bllk #itoshi sae #yandere sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader

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claireelizabeth85 · 5 months

Text

Come Home To Me - Chapter 8

John Egan x OC!Female

Summary: When the idea of a past life turns out it isn't just an idea or a dream.

Warning: Military inaccuracies, mentions of death.

AN: Thought I’d surprise you all with an extra chapter this week (I’m on holidays and writing will resume when I’m home).

AN2: This is a work of fiction and is based on the TV characters from the Apple TV series. No disrespect is intended towards the real men of the 100th BG.

All previous chapters can be found here

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Sarah couldn't help but marvel at the view as their bomber levelled off at altitude. “Liz, this view! It’s just so beautiful...and so quiet up here.” Sarah felt as though she was in a completely different world. Sure she’d flown commercially before, but this was something else all together.

Lizzy glanced over, happy that her friend saw the beauty in flying. “Sarah, it’s time for oxygen. We’re at an altitude of 10,000ft and the air is thin up here.” She quickly radioed the tower about their holding pattern, then flicked on the internal intercom system, easing their need to keep touching their throats to speak.

Holding the envelope that Johnny had given her, Sarah felt a twinge of anxiety. She knew that they had something to do with this, but she just wasn’t sure what. Breaking the seal, inside the envelope she found a flight plan to Berlin along with a letter. She handed the plan over to Lizzy who took hold of it with a frown. Making quick calculations on a clear window strapped to her knee, muttering a curse under her breath. She switched her radio back to the external setting.

“Tower, this is Queen Bee. Requesting to switch to VHF Channel 7. I need to speak to Geoff, over.”

After a short wait, Geoff's voice crackled through. “Lizzy, it’s Geoff. Everything ok?”

“Geoff, what's up with this flight plan you had sent over before we took off? I thought you said we were a no-go for German airspace?”

Geoff sounded confused. “We didn’t send any flight plans. It was supposed to be as we discussed...hang on.” There was a pause filled with static. “Ok, it looks like someone filed a plan in your name. You’ve got clearance for all needed airspaces. You're all set for Berlin. Flight time is four hours.”

The colour drained from Lizzy’s face. “Berlin, right okay.” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. “Thanks Geoff, for everything you’ve done for me and Sarah. I don’t know how this is going to go and if we’re going to see you again. So take care of yourself. Queen Bee out.”

As she changed their heading, Lizzy's mind raced and her heart pounded with a mix of dread and determination. The uncertainty evident in her frown.

“Looks like we’re heading to Berlin after all. At least there’s no need to steal the plane, huh?” Sarah tried to joke, but it fell flat.

“I...I’m not sure about this. I don’t know if I can go back there. It's the one place...” Lizzy’s voice trailed off, haunted by memories she could barely grasp.

Seeing her friend's distress, Sarah reached out and squeezed Lizzy’s arm. “Hey, it’s ok. If you don’t want to, then we can go back and you can land the plane and it will all be over. But we both know that you don’t want to do that. I know you’re scared Liz, but maybe facing what happened in Berlin is a part of this whole crazy situation. Wasn’t it where your last mission went sideways?”

Lizzy nodded, grimacing as old memories surfaced. “It was a thousand bomber strong mission. One of the biggest missions we had flown over Germany. The IP was the marshalling yards in the city. But the flak…. It was so strong. We lost so many crews, two went down in front of us before we really knew what was going on. I got hit in the leg and I ...it all went black. I think I….”

Sarah held Lizzy's gaze, her voice firm. “No Liz. You were MIA, remember? Rosenthal’s report said MIA.” Lizzy shook her head. “I don’t think I was. I think I stayed on the plane…I told Rosie to get out.”

Lizzy could only see Sarah’s eyes and they were glassy with emotion. “He said you were steadfast in your choice to stay onboard.” Lizzy chuckled. “That’s Rosie, always the lawyer, even when he’s talking about people making idiotic choices.” The sombre emotion hung in the air like a thick cloud. Neither one of them wanted to discuss it further.

As they settled into the flight, Lizzy walked Sarah through the other jobs that the crew would have had, including navigation and teaching her the basics about calling out the timings and when to call out their headings, which were fortunately written down as part of the flight plan.

“Is this what you guys did on missions? Call out the timings and the heading?”

“No, the pilots wouldn’t, it was the Navigator’s job. They had all the maps and bearings of where things were that we needed as markers. We had some of the best navigators in the entire eighth air force. One of my best friends was a Navigator.”

Sarah was curious. “Will you tell me about them? I’ve only ever read about their deaths and I didn’t think to ask as you were a little…” Sarah didn’t want to say the obvious. “Drunk, it’s alright you can say it”.

Lizzy knew that her best friend was screwing her face up in that “I didn’t want to say it” way. “Well you were so upset over that letter, I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Lizzy nodded, acknowledging that she hadn’t been the greatest friend over the last couple of days or even. “It’s just been a little…overwhelming. My head feels like there’s two lives kicking around up there. Two sets of memories and one is so much stronger than the other. It feels like the more I remember the past, the more the memories I make day to day fade. It’s like ... I can’t tell you what school I went to 20 years ago, hell I couldn't tell you what our uni professors were called but I can describe to you in detail the street my parents and two older brothers and I lived on in London 85 years ago.” Sarah’s eyes were wide.

“Oh shit” she breathed out. “What Sarah, what is it?” Lizzy checked all around her, the reaction a reflex and then checked over their direction and heading, making the necessary adjustments to keep them on course.

“I have been looking at this all wrong. I thought you were from here, in the now and somehow went back to the past. I thought the loop started here, but it didn’t! You weren’t born in the 1980s, you were born in the 1900s and you came to us. Like….like….a second chance, maybe. Like you weren’t meant to die, if that’s what we’re thinking happened. You were meant to survive and go home!!’

Lizzy frowned, her eyebrows creasing deep to show her scepticism. “You think I’m reincarnated?”

Sarah let out a chuckle. “No, not in the sense of a dead mummy that came back to life. But think about it, I’ve been your best friend for what, six nearly seven years and you’ve never once mentioned your brothers or your parents, not until now. We only left uni three years ago and you can’t remember the man that made our academic lives a misery! But you’re telling me that you can describe, in detail, a house you lived in nearly a hundred years ago! The only way I can describe it is like the original you, your memories, personality etc was shot forward into a new version but you’ve got a blanket over your head and slowly but surely, as the memories come back, holes appear in the blanket, until eventually the blanket has gone.” Lizzy couldn’t help but laugh.

“You don’t half come out with some analogies! So you think I’m originally from the 40s, I wasn’t meant to die when I did, so what - I wake up 80 years later, not remembering anything but instead have a whole new set of memories, make friends with you so we can go back together?” Sarah was frantically nodding her head.

“Yes! And I think the closer we get to Berlin and this cloud, the more you’re going to remember. The more you’re going to become your old self again!”

Lizzy sat still. Not frowning or laughing but pensive in thought. “But what if I forget you? I don’t want to forget you. Even if what you say is right, I don't want to forget our friendship.” Sarah just pointed at the small black and white photograph propped up against the gauges. “I don’t think you will.”

As they approached Berlin airspace, Lizzy’s grip on the controls tightened, her knuckles whitening. The skies ahead were deceptively calm, crystal clear with only the distant outline of Berlin breaking the horizon, but she could hear the flak in the distance. As they edged closer, the calm shattered, flecks of light, eerily resembling flak, began to burst around them.

“Sarah, do you see that? The flak?”

Sarah, peering intently through the window, saw nothing but serene skies.

“Liz, there’s nothing there. It’s all clear.”

But Lizzy’s world was unravelling. The sky around her teemed with chaos, vivid bursts of flak shredding the air, their sharp blasts echoing in her ears. The distant and unmistakable rumble of anti-aircraft guns vibrated through her body. Her hands trembled on the controls, her breaths quick and shallow. “It’s everywhere, Sarah! Can’t you hear that? The guns—they’re deafening!” Lizzy could feel the plane start to bounce around as she tried to avoid the explosions.

Sarah reached out, her hand gripping Lizzy’s shoulder in an attempt to anchor her to the present. “Liz, listen to me, it’s quiet. There are no guns. It’s just us here.”

But the past was too powerful, its grip too strong. Panic surged through Lizzy as she struggled to reconcile the serene reality Sarah described with the visceral warzone her mind insisted they were flying through.

Suddenly, Sarah's face blurred, her calming voice vanishing, and in her seat, Lizzy saw Major Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal. His eyes concentrating on the situation around them. “Rosie?” Lizzy whispered, her voice trembling as he barked orders, coordinating a phantom squadron.

“Oil pressure is dropping on two and four. Engine three is on fire!” Rosie’s voice cut through the cacophony of the past clashing with the present.

As quickly as it came, the hallucination faded, and Sarah’s concerned voice broke through. “Lizzy, what’s going on? Talk to me!”

Reality and memory collided, Lizzy could feel tiny pin pricks in her leg but as she looked down there was nothing there.

The edges of the cloud bank ominously loomed ahead. Lizzy’s resolve hardened as fear tinged her voice. She turned the bomber toward the clouds, the boundary between past and present.

“Sarah, I don’t know what’s going to happen when we hit this cloud. I can see Rosie, and I think… I think I’m not here anymore. You might not be with me. You need to be safe.”

Her words rushed out, a torrent of fear and confusion. “If you end up back at Thorpe Abbotts, find Jack Kidd and Crosby. They’ll look after you.”

As Lizzy pushed them forward into the cloud, the world twisted. The serene blue sky twisted and marbled with the black clouds of anti aircraft, the sound of flak intensified, a roaring symphony that drowned out Sarah’s attempts to reassure her. Voices from the past echoed through the cockpit, shouting positions of enemy fighters in a battle fought long ago.

Time seemed to fracture. Rosie was there again, real and urgent, yanking on her shoulder. “Liz! Lizzy! We have to get out now! Come on, Liz, get up!” Pain erupted in her leg, the fire streaking up her leg and into her spine. “I can’t Rosie, I can’t move. I’ll keep the plane steady and you go.” Shrapnel had torn through flesh, her flying suit stained with blood. “I can’t stand”.

“I’m not leaving you behind Lizzy. That’s not going to happen. I’m not going let you give up. So get up Lieutenant! Get up!” Putting the plane into autopilot and with Rosie’s help, she strapped herself into her parachute, the din of the failing bomber surrounding them. “You have to jump, Liz. You have to go!! Before we’re too low!!!”

Lizzy leaped, the cold rush of air a harsh slap as she plummeted toward the earth. She yanked the ripcord, but the ground approached too fast. She tried to tuck and roll, but her legs buckled under the impact. Pain blinded her, and as she crumpled to the ground, her vision blurred, her consciousness slipping away, sinking deep into the depths of her tormented memories, where war raged on in endless loops.

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If you like the chapter, please share the love. Loves and reblogs feed my soul. If you want to gossip about what could come next, my ask and messages are open.

Taglist:

@wvictoryrollsandredlips @bobparkhurst @thedeviltohisangel @instructionsnotincluded @prettyinlimegreenboots @ginabaker1666 @luminouslywriting

#masters of the air #mota #john egan #gale cleven #bucky barnes #major john egan #john egan x lizzy waterfield #john bucky egan #mota fanfiction

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1348ts · 6 months

Text

Snow (pt.1 invite)

avengers x teen fem reader.

Back story

the reader is a 16-year-old girl with ice superpowers she was a baby when she got sent to Earth (why she doesn't know but she thinks it was because her parents didn't want her) she was found by HYDRA and raised there she was mistreated, used, shot at, train, electrified and so must worst when she turned 5 she didn't feel anything of the things they did to her and even if she did she would never let them know they have too much fun with that. one morning after her daily ¨training¨ she found a baby in her room and later learn she had to care for him she named him Chris. she did she wanted the best and to have Hydra give that she had to do horrible things her name was ¨frost bite¨ cause she freeze people when she was 14 (Chris 9) in her daily ¨training¨ he was the one in the chair and he was the one getting hurt and they didn't stop. she had gotten attached and Hydra didn't like that she tried to get to him but was too late he had passed there was nothing left of him and it was painful for both of them all the anger and sadness broke her even so that she lost control the whole base exploded and she grabbed a picture of them together and ran.

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Two years later reader is 16 now still on the run but she was trained to beat the best to be the best. you had a mission with no stop you went from HYDRA base to HYDRA base with maybe a week between each attack the goal was that nobody ever got hurt by them again. you have so many identities you gave yourself a different name ¨snow¨ and even a normal name ¨Chloe Hallow¨ you closed a painful chapter in your life and started to do better. but on one mission in Germany, something happened that wasn't supposed to happen it was a big base and it turned out the Avengers had heard too and much to our luck they weren't in the way they tried to talk to you and then catch you but failed miserably. you had read about them and everything but you didn't care cause it wasn't useful. Still, now they were very interesting you postponed your planned missions for about 3 weeks by the end you knew everything you even entered the ¨secured¨ compound and snooped through some stuff (nobody nodest). Still, hey you are the best there is you created an account and mailed Mr Fury giving him base locations I mean there are a lot and you could use some help. when he got the mail all the bells went off who sent him that? how doesn't give out his mail not even the Avengers have it? how do you know that there are bases there? he asks you all of those questions in his mail to you. your reply was simply ¨meet me at the coffee shop on 23 Main Street tomorrow at 4:30 PM come alone otherwise I won't show. O and don't tell anyone¨ so he cancelled his meetings and told no one and he got to the coffee shop at 4:27 Like clock-work 4:30 you walked in and sat down but before he could say something you said:¨I know I am young but you want to know you I got your mail Mr Fury and I'm willing to give that information¨ you say ¨go ahead tell me¨ Fury states¨well simply I went in you ¨secure¨ compound and got it from your computer¨ he looks at you impressed ¨and how-¨ he starts but you cut him off ¨how do I know where those bases are? I have my ways¨ you answer he looks at you and says ¨I have a team super heroes you'd be perfect I have seen you're file it is very impressive from whats known at least ¨ ¨im not interested I have a lot of things to do¨ you reason both of you argue for a good while at the end Fury convinces you (that's what he likes to think but you need some chance and you know it it is gonna be hard but you can do it ) you agree to come in on Friday (that's 3 days from now).

if you want more parts just let me know

PS: don't mind the mistakes pls

#avengers x teen!reader #Chloe Hallow #avengers x platonic reader #nick fury #marvel #hydra #feminine reader

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junglejim4322 · 7 months

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(Udo Kier, 2010, on My Own Private Idaho) “I was in Berlin, and I saw a film by the name of Mala Noche. And I thought "Wow. Wow, wow, wow. How independent can you get?" Then I went to a party and I met Gus Van Sant. He came to me and he said, "You know, you are one of my favorite actors. I'm making a movie with River Phoenix and Keanu Reeves, and I would like that you play, if you like, Hans." Of course, if you're German, your name in films is always Hans. Simple. If you make a film in Japan, your name is Hans-man. I thought, "Ah, I like him." Very intelligent man... So I said, "Okay. Here's my address." A couple of weeks later, I got- this was not the time of e-mail, and not even faxes. So he sent me the script, I read the script, and I was scared, I was so scared, thinking, "I have to go to bed with Keanu Reeves and River Phoenix?" My friends back in Germany said, "Fuck you! They are teenage idols in America! Every American actor would love to be able to do that!" Then I wrote Gus back. I love Gus, because he's the one who got me my work permit, and he's the reason that I'm living in America... So it was very funny, and I said, "Okay, I'm coming." I wrote him saying, "I just found a suitcase at a flea market, and Hans should have a suitcase." I brought all my clothes, and I said to him, "Hans should be always dressed very high, should cover his body," because I knew I had to be naked to have sex with Keanu Reeves. Amazing to have sex with Keanu Reeves and River Phoenix! So I came to Idaho, and I was sitting in a restaurant with Keanu Reeves and River Phoenix, and Gus introduced me, and River was amazing. He said, "Hans, sit next to me!" And Keanu didn't understand anything. Anyway, to make the story short, I made the film and I had a great time.”

#‘and Keanu didn’t understand anything’ always kills me 😭#my own private idaho #udo kier #river pheonix #Keanu reeves #gus van sant #film

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pricescigar · 16 days

Text

I promise

Summary: With Harper's 18th Birthday, Shaw gives her a choice that contemplates with everything. And with Charles leaving to go to university, she faces her difficulties to pursue her own dreams.

Westchester, New York, 1950

December 15th

Today was Harper's 18th Birthday, though there wasn't much to celebrate with her grandparents. Since they were away for a week just to get away from the bustling City, and probably away from her too. Which Harper didn't seem to mind too much, she preferred when they weren't around anyway. She always loved it when she had the house to herself, her mind felt a little bit more quiet then. Much easier to handle her thoughts, especially when other eyes weren't questioning her motives and moves…

Shortly after her grandparents left Harper was practising on playing her Harp in her bedroom, reading the music sheet as she played. Hearing a loud knock at her front door broke her out of her trance, she sighed softly in frustration. Gently setting her Harp down, she headed downstairs and opened the front door.

“Dad..?” Harper spoke softly. That's what she's always known him as, all the cards and presents he sent to her. Of course he signed it off as “Dad” Well that was because she was his dad, but with her mind in the state as it is. She remembers him, but sometimes she can’t.

Shaw stood there patiently waiting for the door to be opened, he was holding a bag in one of his hands as well. Elegantly dressed in a suit as always, there hasn't been a day where he hasn't worn a suit. When the door did open, he flashed a smile at her.

“Happy Birthday my Harper, eighteen years old… I'm so proud of you. My sweet little girl.” Shaw said while pulling her into a hug.

Harper was surprised by the hug, but she hugged him back. They two remained like that for a moment before pulling away. “Thanks…” She spoke softly. “You know my grandparents said-”

“They're not here Harper.” Shaw interrupted her. “I know they don't want me here, but they can't stop me from seeing my own daughter. Can they? You're an adult now after all…” His tone was a little firm. “May I come in?” His voice suddenly became softer this time.

Harper stayed silent before she nodded letting him in, watching him walk inside she closed the door before following him into the living room.

“You know the mind, it's an interesting thing.” Shaw started to speak. “Especially in your case…” He looked around the living room, before he then sat down on the sofa, watching Harper sit down next to him.

“I can help you.” He spoke again. “Help you remember the things you have forgotten… Especially when you were much younger…” Shaw looked at her watching her contemplate everything. Maybe he was feeling nostalgic about it all, the memories of Harper when she was just a little girl… Always wanting to be beside him, wanting to see what kind work he was doing. Part of him missed those days...

Then Harriet took her away from him. After Shaw tried to look for her but couldn't find her, he went to Germany until the war ended and went back to America. And then he found her again…

When her powers finally manifested.

But truly, he was proud of her. Even if he wasn't there physically. What she could already do at her age… Even if she couldn't fully remember everything, that was okay because at the end of the day. She was still his daughter, and he still loved her as such.

If he could just convince to join her.

The two would be unstoppable together.

“I want to remember… But I feel like my brain is holding me back.” She began to explain to him. “When I did what I did to mum and Freddie, it felt like everything went black… And then when I could finally open my eyes, everything felt fuzzy.” Harper admitted. “Like… I remember you but then I don't, I remember other things, it just disappears… All the time.”

Shaw listened to her before nodding a little, he contemplated his words before speaking.

“Sometimes the brain has a funny way of protecting yourself from things… But don't you worry about that.” He reassured her. “I have a gift for you, my special birthday girl.” He smiled, handing the gift bag over to her.

Harper smiled softly, gently taking the gift bag from him. “Thank you…” She spoke, she looked into the bag taking the gift out before she began to unwrap the ribbon from the box.

Inside of the medium sized box was an old necklace which was beloved to her mother, it's old and antique look was still perfectly intact Harper admired it. “Oh wow, it's beautiful.” Harper commented.

“I gifted it to your mother the first night we decided to date.” Shaw said as he picked up the necklace putting the necklace around Harper's neck. “And it looks absolutely beautiful on you.” He smiled.

“Thanks dad…” Harper spoke softly, she then looked at him with a smile. “I'll cherish it and protect it with my life.” She promised him.

“You should join me, you know? I have a club on a Vegas strip. Well almost, planning you know how things go.” Shaw smiled sheepishly. “But. I'd love to have you there, by my side. We can be a family again.”

“I'd like to, but it's my grandparents... No one to take care of them, I'll think about it though…” Harper looked at him, not really fully giving him an open answer.

Shaw nodded, deep down he was a little bit disappointed but she was an adult now. Free to make her own choices after all, but part of him still wanted her to join him.

“Whatever makes you comfortable.” Shaw placed a hand on her shoulder. “But, I'll visit again. Hopefully by then you've made your choice. By then...” He then looked at her again.

“You are worth so much more, you deserve a better life. And I will make sure of that.” His tone was confident. “I won't stay too long. I bet you have a lot planned, I should get going, but enjoy your day okay?” He said before kissing her head. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Harper smiled at him, nodding in agreement. “Yeah… See you soon.” She looked at Shaw, she stood up from her seat and she showed him out of the home watching him leave. A soft sigh escaped her lips, she stayed silent contemplating her thoughts.

The offer did seem interesting to Harper, but so many thoughts were swimming in her mind..

After Shaw left Harper took a moment to compose herself, she left the empty gift box aside and left her home for the evening. Wanting to go and see Charles and Raven. Since she always celebrated her birthday with them too. She headed into the Mansion where Charles and Raven surprised her with a small happy birthday party. They celebrated by giving her a big birthday cake, various presents as well.

Charles bought her an expensive necklace, earrings and a bracelet that came as a set along with her favourite perfume.

Raven brought Harper the various clothes she pointed out a while ago, when the two went out shopping. But Harper didn't end up buying them, since the clothes were so expensive. Which is why Raven secretly brought them while Charles and Harper headed into the bookstore instead.

After they had dinner and had a birthday cake, the three of them listened to music and played board games together.

Later in the night Charles and Harper had a little bit of alone time in the library, where the two of them always hung out together. Which is where Charles broke the news to her…

“Wait …You're leaving Charles?” Harper was in disbelief as she looked at Charles, both of them sat in the grand library in his family home. “Where to?” She asked softly.

“I got accepted into University, Oxford in England to be precise. I want to become a professor. To understand our mutations more, eventually to find others like us too.” Charles began to explain to Harper.

“There's nothing more that I want to help people, to help people like us.” He then held her hands. “You should come with Raven and I Harper, escape from all of this.” He offered it to her.

Harper took his hands into hers. “I'd love to come with you Charles, really I would. But my grandparent's, they're not getting any younger now. Someone would need to take care of them.” Her voice was soft. “As much as I hate them, part of me doesn't want to leave them…”

Charles stayed silent and nodded, he understood the situation. He also knew he was asking a lot from her, a big choice to make.

“You know you can always visit me whenever you want, and I'll happily accommodate you. I'll always write to you.” His hand reached over to caress Her cheek.

“And I'll write to you too.” Harper whispered softly, she smiled as she said that. But there was also a hint of sadness in her eyes, she didn't want him to leave. But Harper also knew he wanted to pursue his dreams. “I'll write to you as much as I can.”

Charles leaned in close to her face, placing her hands on her cheeks before kissing her lips tenderly. His lips were soft and gentle against hers. Harper was surprised by the sudden kiss, she closed her eyes happily returning the kiss back. The two remained like that for a moment longer, before he slowly pulled away from her.

Harper pulled away too, looking into his eyes for a moment before smiling softly. “Promise you won't forget me?” Her voice was a whisper.

“I promise. Can you promise the same thing?” Charles smiled, his voice was a whisper too.

Harper nodded with a smile on her face, she placed her hand on his cheek before she pressed her forehead against his.

“I promise.” Harper whispered back.

“You sure you don't want to come with me? You know it's okay if you change your mind down the line too.” Charles’ voice remained soft.

“Yeah… I'm sure, I don't want to get in the way of your dreams. It's okay.” Harper smiled at him reassuringly. “Do this for you.”

Charles didn't say anything for a moment, but he nodded a little. “Okay.” He finally whispered, he put a strand of hair behind her ear. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Of course.” Harper smiled, she placed her hand on his cheek. “I'll stay with you.”

After a couple months in the summer of 1951 Harper said her goodbyes to Charles and Raven, as they were about to leave to go on their way to England. She hugged both of them individually, tightly, not wanting to let them go. Especially Charles…

“Never forget me, okay?” Harper hugged Charles tightly, he too did the same hugging her with the same tightness.

“Never. I'll never forget you.” Charles’ tone was soft, he kissed her head. Holding her one last time, before finally letting her go holding her hand a little before he joined Raven in the car.

Harper watched the car leave, she waved Them a goodbye feeling an empty feeling in her chest as she watched the car disappear from her sight.

Feeling the tears forming in her eyes.

#x men #marvel #x men fic #sebastian shaw #charles xavier #raven darkholme #x men oc #oc #ocs #harper hugo

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verymentalitydeer · 30 days

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The Affairs Of Sally Bowles pt.1 (the history)

note: this is all head cannon and infers from the very little we know about sally. i tried to make out what her past would be, i’ve been thinking about making this for a WHILE. so i hope you know that this isn’t cannon AT. ALL. but if you have an issue with my own story i ask you to please write your own!!!! i’d adore seeing it

Sally Bowles, from what we know is an english singer at the Kit Kat Club. She was born in Kent, England during the 1910’s. In her life she seemed to have many different faces to put on and people to pretend to be. After finding out one of her more rebellious personalities that she was hiding, her mother sent her to a nunnery in France. Sally lived there for the remainder of her teen years, though she was incredibly bored throughout. She was STRIVING for a way out, and after a few months she found it. A mission trip was held by the nuns, the mission tripe contained a trip to all over europe. Ecstatically, Sally signed up. She was ready to see the world, to have the excitement in her life that she was starving for. But, as Sally would soon find out, the trip was ultimately extremely BORING. One night, when they landed in Antwerp, Belgium. Her, and the group of girls who also went on the trip, settled in a small hotel near a train station. Thoughts stirred in Sally’s mind, about how she needed to leave, how she needed to live her life. That night she picked up her bags and ran off to the station. Sally paid with money that was given to her for the trip to get on a train, any train, that could take her away. That train fatefully lead her to the city of Berlin, Germany.

She was all alone there, but hopeful and giddy. She wandered around the streets for a few days before meeting a prostitute named Elsie. Elsie was 18 with short brown hair and light makeup, her thin figure sauntered down the streets looking for customers at times. Elsie took in Sally in the whore house, not as a worker, but just so she had some shelter. Elsie also worked at a (at the time) small and indie night club called the Kit Kat Club. There, Sally found her love of performing. Which, Elsie encouraged! Elsie was like a best friend to Sally, and maybe a little more by how Sally would flush anytime Elsie would call her her ‘liebling’. Though, a week after sally’s 18th birthday, Elsie passed from a tumor in her brain. Elsie’s funeral was solemn and short, mainly cause no one had enough money to make it a good funeral. Her family came, looking over her tombstone in disgust. Sally was heartbroken, but she swore that Elsie was the happiest she’s been. Sally realized that Elsie lived a life of excitement, a life of whatever she wanted. Where even after she died, she was content. from then on, Sally would live her life in the glitz and glamor.

1/3

#cabaret #cabaret musical #sally bowles #headcanon #1930s #wwii era #backstory #the emcee #alan cumming

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thegloweringcastle · 9 months

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A Million Lifetimes

Happy holidays to @sideralwriting!! My dear, I appreciate your patience with me as I navigated life (& the gift swap) this holiday season. It has been SUCH a delight getting to know you these past few weeks and I look forward to hopefully staying in touch after the swap! I'm sorry this isn't my best work, but I hope you like it nonetheless. I tried my best to add small little details you might appreciate, and I know it's not great but I hope it may bring you some joy. <3

And the absolute biggest hug and thank you to @acotargiftexchange for being so patient with me - I'm sorry I had to be *That Person* this year. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart<3<3<3<3<3

No warnings to be found! Just silly feysand fluff and shenanigans.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Many people use the holidays as a time to reflect on all which has changed. Some measure how much they’ve grown as individuals, others use it as a way to mark the end of a long, grueling year - seeing the short break as a way to signify a year’s worth of change and prompt improvement for the months between the next holiday.

Feyre and Rhys, on a similar note, liked to use it as a way to track how many times they have found each other, over and over again.

***

This time the wind blew gently; not hard enough to urge people inside, but not so gentle that it went unnoticed. In the crowded holiday market of Velaris, two people huddled closer together, sharing heat and smiles.

“I’m just saying,” Feyre’s words formed between them as frosty clouds. “I still think that the winter we spent in Greenland was better than the one in London.”

“But Feyre darling,” Rhysand’s words were not as clear as Feyre’s, thanks to the scarf he kept tight around his face. “London!”

“Yes, London, but it was early nineteenth century London and we had just run into each other - quite literally - from slipping and sliding through sewage.”

“Oh, darling, you forget how I so smoothly saved us from certain doom.” He tugged the scarf away from his face, rewinding it around both of them.

“You didn’t save my shoes, that’s for certain.” She huffed. “All I’m saying is I believe you’re looking at it through rose-colored lenses.”

He chuckled. “I’m not going to win, am I?”

“No, my love. You’re not.” She offered him a pat on the cheek - a consolation.

They wandered between stalls of vendors, watching the holiday lights and decorations in quiet awe. Feyre itched to blend the colors together on canvas, perhaps make a mashup of every holiday she’d ever spent with Rhys. There would be golds and reds from the market they currently walked through, but there would also be greys and browns and greens. Light and shade, with a fair share of tears to balance out the smiles. It would be… chaotic. And perfect. A strange, haphazard image that perfectly depicted their lives.

She tugged on his hand, drawing them to a stop in front of a Bavarian craftsman.

“What about that christmas in Germany?”

“That was a pretty good year. Bloody cold though.” He shivered, as if just the thought of it sent chills down his spine. “I think it’s still one of my favorites of our firsts. It was refreshing to see you so at ease. Remember how simple it was that year?”

Yes, Feyre remembered that life well. It was among her favorites, she supposed; one of their cozier lives.

***

Feyre could feel the cold seeping through the window of the train even on the farthest side of her bench. Her lace gloves didn’t do much other than look pretty, and not for the first time she grew irked at women’s fashions for being so terribly impractical. Sure, petticoats galore were plenty warm in such low temperatures, but not very easy to maneuver; and narrow-heeled boots weren’t especially stable in slush and ice.

Nonetheless, she was enjoying her travels. Watching the world blur past the window was meditative - reassuring. There may not have been much left for her to escape, but being on the move was the only way to ensure peace and quiet - and the only way for her to feel less adrift in her search for… whatever it was she thought was missing.

The train drew to a halt, wheels screeching against the tracks as it stopped for a station in Munich. The hustle and bustle of people unboarding began immediately, luggage being jostled down the aisle and people rushing past. It was a wonder Feyre even noticed the booklet which tumbled to the floor - she wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t fallen from the pocket of a man with violet eyes.

She leaned over, snatching it during a break in the crowd while trying to keep track of her stranger. Right before he stepped off, his gaze found hers.

Her heart tugged, and before she knew it, Feyre was out of her seat - belongings snagged at the last minute - and braving the crowd to follow the man with violet eyes. The notebook couldn’t have been more than thirty pages or so, yet it sat heavy in her hand as she navigated the crowded station, ducking between people and dodging around suitcases. Feyre realized that she had lost sight of her stranger, but there was a sense of urgency she couldn’t shake. It wasn’t until she was panting for air and had almost certainly gone in circles that she slumped onto a bench, setting her things down with a clatter and letting the book fall open on her lap.

She knew it was rude to look, but it was unlikely that she would find the owner to return it. One peek couldn’t hurt; if it was a grocery list - well, nothing terribly personal there. If it was notes, or perhaps a novel in the making… She was an artist too. It would be fine.

Still, she wasn’t quite prepared for what she found on that random, worn page.

In that icy chill

Of those depthless blue eyes

I see only warmth

I wonder

How might it feel

To succumb to you

Adrift in your blue

“There you are,” A voice deep as night stood out over the din of the train station. “From the train. I’ve been looking for you.”

Feyre snapped the book shut with a resounding thwack and stood abruptly, only to be pinned in place by a pair of violet eyes.

“I’ve been looking for you too. For a while, I think.” She held out the journal. “This is yours?”

“Indeed. Thank you for finding it for me.” Their hands overlapped, making it impossible for Feyre to let go.

“This may sound odd, but for quite some time I’ve been looking for something I think I lost. You seem to be good at finding things,” She could listen to his voice forever. “Perhaps you could help me once more?”

Even as he asked, the pieces began to fall into place. Sounds of past lives ringing through to the present, urging her to hang onto him. Memories returned to both of them, and his grip moved from the journal to her hand.

“Of course.” She smiled, watching carefully for a crinkle around his eyes. “I would love to.”

***

“I have to admit, all those skirts were warm, but they sure were a pain to deal with when nature called.”

Rhys’ laugh boomed between the aisles of vendors. “And it made it much more challenging to undress y-”

“That’s enough!” She clapped a hand over his mouth before he could say anything too filthy. “We are in public, Rhys!”

He smirked. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Yeah, sure you weren’t.”

“I think it’s you who let her dirty mind get carried away.” His grin was impish.

“If I have a dirty mind it’s only because you’ve rubbed off on me.”

He put his hands up, surrendering. “Whatever you say, love.”

They wandered some more between vendors, debating over their favorite holidays together and which first-meeting was their best.

“I thought it was funny when your friend introduced us,” It was a memory that Feyre often thought of, no matter how plain it might have been. “Not sure if it was the best, but it was… normal.” Out of everything, that had to count for something, right?

Rhys laughed loudly, grabbing her hand even tighter. “And he kept meddling in our business no matter how clear we made it that we were together.”

“It was flattering to know he thought we went well together, at least.” She wagged a finger at him, laughing slightly. “At least it was better than the one where you saved me from being burned at the stake. That was pretty horrid, wasn't it?”

He pulled her close, teasing and hinting at a kiss. “At least I got to play hero for you.”

“Oh,” She dragged it out. “That’s right, because we were early in the game and I was, at the time, still half convinced you were a complete prick. Yes, you did need those extra points.”

He hummed, half in amusement and half in agreement. “What about that one we spent at that inn? That was one hell of a time.”

“The place with the armadillos?” She shivered. “Unfortunately, I do remember that.”

***

Feyre did not like the high desert for two reasons. Reason one: The air was too dry, it hurt her skin and chapped the inside of her nose. Reason two: there were too many creepy crawling critters that wanted either to kill her, to eat her, or to steal her body heat.

It didn’t matter if it was winter and most animals had either migrated or gone into hibernation underground. She did not. Like. The. desert.

“Almost there, darlin’.” Rhys encouraged, ignoring the fact that she had just chewed him out in an hour-long tangent for “dragging her into the middle of nowhere for a single, stupid job in the blasted desert during a snowstorm”.

“I thought the desert didn’t get snow.” Feyre was pouting. She knew she was pouting. Unfortunately, she was too uncomfortable to care.

“This is the high desert, love. It’s a bit more dramatic than what we’re used to.”

“Rhys,” She pulled their horses to a stop and faced him. It was getting harder to see as the snowfall grew heavier. “Please tell me we’re close. I don’t want to cut this life short, I especially don’t want to cut this life short because of one stupid decision.”

“I promise you, darlin’, we’re not far.” He turned to face forward, pulling out his compass. “There’s a small town just around this bend. We’ll stay there ‘till this weather clears up.”

Feyre didn’t waste her energy responding - she wanted a hot drink and soft bed now.

Sure enough, Rhys hadn’t been lying. There was a town - small and rundown though it was, Feyre was just grateful they wouldn’t freeze to death in the most miserable place on earth.

Rhys held the door for her, the two of them stepping into an inn and stomping the snow from their boots and shaking the ice from their scarves and coats.

“Howdy there and welcome, I’m Shirley and I sure am happy to see you. What can I do for you lovely folks tonight?”

Feyre looked up from where she was struggling to undo her buttons, ready to charm the lovely owner for a room, before letting out a startled gasp.

The woman - Shirley - held an armadillo to her chest as one might hold a cat or puppy. A snake rested coiled on the hearth, another few armadillos trundled between tables at the restaurant. Other patrons sat at the bar normally, seemingly unconcerned with the lizards crawling around the counters.

“W-we um-”

“Howdy ma'am.” He stuck his hand out, not once looking at the armadillo the lady held. “The name’s Rhysand, this here’s my lovely wife Feyre. We got caught in the snow and were hoping you might be able to spare a room for the two of us?”

“Of course! I hope you two don’t mind cacti too much. Any concerns? You know what, doesn’t matter. I’ll grab a key and show you two on up!”

“That’s perfect. Thank you, ma’am.”

Not even thirty minutes later they had gotten a room and were getting ready for bed. Or, Rhys was getting ready for bed.

“Rhysand, you know I love animals. I adore animals. I do not, however, adore snakes. Or any desert dwelling creatures. They're gross, and dusty, and out to get you. Remember that Christmas in Australia? Boiling hot and everything was trying to kill us.”

“But darling, that’s Australia.”

“That’s irrelevant!” She huffed. “My point is, I want to celebrate our first christmas in this life somewhere other than an Inn filled with wild animals.”

He grabbed her hands, stopping her pacing and making her meet his gaze. “We will. I promise.”

Sure enough, the storm had passed by the time they woke in the morning. They were up and at’em in a hurry, Rhys’ compass taking them to the next town over in time for a holiday spent indoors, together, and most importantly away from wild animals.

***

“I think I still have that compass, somehow. I remember finding it again in an antique shop in that area a few lives ago, then I tucked it away for safekeeping - and the future. Sort of like you do with our rings.”

At the mere mention, Feyre brought hers up to the light. It glimmered beneath the street lamps, scratched and nicked from centuries of wear. Some people may have been bothered if their wedding rings had been so damaged, but Feyre just saw it as lives well lived and loved.

She shrugged. “So that may not have been my favorite, but it wasn’t the worst. In hindsight, it was a more entertaining year, so I can’t hate it.”

Rhys’ shit-eating grin dimmed, shade by shade. “I know which one was my least favorite.”

It was Feyre’s too.

They both sobered and held one another a little bit closer.

***

In all of their lifetimes, through dozens of centuries, it was the longest they had been apart; the loneliest they had ever been, too.

War had a tendency to do that.

In this particular life Feyre had been teaching art classes at an elementary school, biding her time while waiting for something. Someone. There was a pain in her heart amplified by a holiday season spent alone. It felt like every day the rain would just fall and fall and fall, unbroken by sunshine or snow. Even ice would have been welcome - anything to cut through the long, unending shadows.

She sat in a late night diner, avoiding returning to an empty apartment while sipping burnt coffee over a half-finished portrait of a man with raven hair and violet eyes. Something familiar, someone unknown. Behind the counter a server switched the radio to a news channel broadcasting the latest updates from overseas.

Had she known that her next life would be so much fuller, she might not have been so hopeless. Had she known that, a lifetime from then, memories would come rushing back and the stranger in her painting would not be so strange, she might have been less disturbed by the sheer number of renditions she had made of the same man.

Alas, she did not know these things. She didn’t even know the cruel twist of the universe - the war? - taking from her the man she didn’t know she waited for. And so for many many more nights she sat in silence with a tepid, burnt coffee (she preferred hot chocolate) and endless half-finished portraits, always hoping for the rain to stop.

***

Children rushed past them, dodging around holiday shoppers and festival booths with shocking agility. Silence hung between them like a clock’s pendulum at its peak, ready to come falling down at any second.

He squeezed her hand. “It made our next-first-meeting even better, I would say.”

Sparkling lights of all different colors turned to smudges in the background as Feyre focused her gaze on Rhys; on his violet eyes. Some things about him had changed, especially after the war, but his eyes stayed the same. The way he smiled with his entire being remained the same. Reliable. Constant.

“I think I would have to agree.”

***

With time their memories would fade. They would begin again, growing into new lives and apart from each other, but they were inevitably always nudged back together. And each time, they remembered one another a bit more easily.

So when Rhys settled in after the war and his new neighbor felt like home, all he needed was a light push in the right direction.

That day in particular had been windy and icy. Roads were closed, businesses were shut down, students were off of school. The universe handed Rhys an excuse to seek out his neighbor on a silver platter: the power went out, and Rhys knew his apartment was the only one with a classic wood-burning fireplace.

She answered after only the first knock.

“I have hot chocolate at my apartment and a working fireplace - if you need. Hot water too.”

Her gaze was soft, and she didn’t hesitate before agreeing.

They kept that year simple, soft, easy. It’s what they needed - something comforting. She stayed even many hours after the power had gone back on and the world had returned to operating in full-swing. They fell into easy company as years long since passed came rushing back, and a new promise was made to never be separated for that long.

***

They still had yet to break their promises.

“I thought that was very domestic, even for you.” Feyre grinned, exchanging a few coins for a small cone of roasted chestnuts.. “But I wonder if maybe we’d earned it. So many different adventures and lifetimes… maybe it’s good that we finally have the time for things like hot chocolate and wood fires. And roasted chestnuts.”

His lips turned up, the creases around his eyes softened. “Maybe you’re right.”

When it inevitably grew too cold outside and even their shared scarf and intertwined hands weren’t enough to keep them warm, the couple navigated through the crowded streets towards their shared townhouse.

Cozy, small, but most importantly - theirs.

He took her jacket, she put away his hat. He put the kettle on, she got their mugs and measured out the tea. They moved fluidly together, silently; familiar over so many different lives spent together. It wasn’t until they had settled in together on the couch, warmed pumpkin beside steaming tea on the coffee table, that Feyre spoke again.

“I still don’t know which of our holidays is my favorite. Maybe I don’t have one.”

Rhys reached out to tuck a lock of her hair behind one ear, cupping her face with the movement. “My favorite one is the one with you.”

“That’s most of them - I don’t think that counts as any single one, as romantic as it is.” She placed a kiss on his cheek. “But you sure are a sweet talker.”

“Then it’s this one, right here, right now, with you. When we can finally have forever.”

***

In every one of their meetings and partings, Rhys and Feyre fell together into one single life. Whether it grew from eye contact across a supermarket, a quick handshake in a business meeting, or simply bumping shoulders on a crowded sidewalk, and no matter how it ended, there was another life waiting for them. Homes to be lived in and loved, holidays to be spent bundled up together in a bubble outside of time.

It was the general consensus between the two of them: The best lives were the ones spent together.

#secret santa 2023 #acotar gift exchange #feysand

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

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My Wingman 💋| Joaquin Torres Marvel Headcanon

Link to my marvel Masterlist

Joaquin Torres crushing on an avenger would look like:

Just shortly before the Ultron drama, you were a young recruit to the avengers after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. Unbeknownst to the team—especially Natasha—you were a former Black Widow who escaped the red room during a mission and defected to the U.S. before Dreykov could track you. Because the Red Room was constantly moving, you were clueless to where it could have gone and for your protection Fury had your identity changed and record concealed from the rest of the organization. This of course had people wary and suspicious of you—considering you were exceptional in the field—but you kept a low profile and did whatever Fury asked of you. He promised to inform you if the Red Room every came on their radar and vowed to help you take it down when the time came.

Unfortunately that promise would not happen with the implementation of the Sokovia Accords. Fury was off the grid, and your teammates were at odds with one another. Though you verbally remained neutral and did not physically get involved when the fight in Germany occurred, behind the scenes you were supportive of Steve and became close with him and Sam. You finally went rogue at 17 when Natasha confronted you after she discovered your identity and the fact the Red Room was still active. “Fury knew didn’t he? This whole time—you both knew Dreykov was still out there!” “It’s more complicated than you think, Natasha. I was barely fourteen when I escaped and had no where else to go! Fury did what he had to protect me. We both have tried tracking the Red Room but have gotten no leads.” “Well I have one. So let’s go end this once and for all.”

Together you two took down Dreykov with the help of her adoptive family before ultimately meeting up with Steve to break the others out of the Raft. For two years you went on the run. Then in 2018 you all were called to battle against the Mad Titan, Thanos, where you lost half of the population when he succeeded in his mission. For five years you and Natasha remained at the compound, doing whatever you could to maintain the Avengers. And when the opportunity came to fix it all, you were left heartbroken at the loss of her and Tony.

Sam took you under his wing (pun intended) when you and the other former fugitives received pardons. Steve was gone, the Avengers were not so much an active organization anymore, and the Accords had been abolished. You pretty much became a government agent again—with your true identity now that Dreykov was long gone. Every agency wanted you; FBI, CIA, Homeland Security, OSI, the Secret Service, even the goddamn Marshals were calling you to be one of their operatives. “Have you decided whose badge you’ll wear yet?” “I’ve pretty much narrowed it down to either the CIA or OSI. Ross is with the CIA so that’s a plus, but with OSI I could work with you when you’re off with the Air Force. Honestly, Sam, I feel like just becoming a free lance so I can get a taste of everything.”

In the end, you did become a free lance agent under the code name ‘Red Widow,’ as not to be confused with Natasha since she was always known as THE Black Widow. You wore a similar suit she did, except yours was red and the hourglass on the belt was black. You enjoyed being a free lance agent where you got to be flexible with what you did. But boy was it fucking hell at times. One week you’re escorting the President, the next you’re investigating a potential threat to the country, and (like most times) you’re partnering with Sam when he finds himself in a pickle. It’s on one of those many adventures with Sam that you meet First Lieutenant Joaquin Torres.

After the threatening phone call from Karlie, Sam had called you and you immediately sent a team of agents to protect his sister & nephews before getting on a plane to Riga. It was not even a second after you landed that you received dozens of phone calls, emails, texts, and news notifications about what took place in the middle of a crowded area between John Walker and a member of the Flag Smashers. You pretty much hauled ass to the location when you finally got a hold of Sam—and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel satisfaction at being the one to cuff Walker and escort him to the SUV.

Finally you find your friends, running into Bucky on his way out where you two exchanged words on what he was about to do. “Need me to get in touch with Okoye for you?” “I’m already on it—don’t worry about me.” After saying goodbye you entered the doorway to see Sam and a young Air Force Officer chatting. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” “You’re right on time, Red.” Your voice had the officer, who had his back to you, spinning around to which he froze when y’all made eye contact. First thing you thought was, ‘Damn he’s a cutie.’

Joaquin was practically smitten upon first glance. There was a light blush to his cheeks when he unconsciously checked you as you strutted up to the pair in your eye catching Red Widow suit. When Sam introduced him, the man couldn’t even find his voice, “Uh-Uh hi. I-I’m Torres—Joa-Joaquin Torres.” Sam looked amused, as did you, “Nice to meet you, Joaquin. I’ve got many names, but you can call me Y/n or Red.” Your wink at the end pretty much sealed the deal, Joaquin thinking, ‘Oh yeah, I’m screwed.”

Anytime Sam called you after that Joaquin would silently looking forward to seeing you. He thought you were absolutely beautiful, funny, intelligent, and a complete badass. The first time he saw you in action the man was rendered speechless. Of course he knew who you were (after restoring the population, you and the remaining avengers were international heroes) so Joaquin was pretty much a fanboy (if you know you know 😉). Seeing you take down ten men twice your size in the flesh was something he literally bragged to his squadron about for days.

You were well aware of the little crush Joaquin had on you. And to be honest, you shared the feeling. The first time you saw him you thought he was adorable with his cute smile and blushing cheeks (not to mention he looked damn good in uniform). Anytime Sam called you up and Joaquin was there, you couldn’t pass on the opportunity to flirt with him. “Nice to see your pretty face again, Torres.” “I heard that Sam gave you his old wings…have you decided what to do with them? I could use a wingman now that Sam is off being Captain America and hardly needs me anymore.”

Something about you implying you’d want him as a wingman motivated Joaquin to finish fixing up the wings he had already started working on. It excited him to work with you from behind the scenes, but he was itching to get in the air/on the ground and be an asset alongside you. Sam could tell what his goal was, so the older man slowly took Joaquin under his wing like he did you to help prepare him for the superhero life.

When it finally came time for Joaquin to join in on the action, he became your eyes in the sky while you scouted the ground. The Air Force was pretty much your main employer (similar to Sam) but you still did work for other agencies. And since you and Joaquin worked so well together, it was no surprise you’d call him up for help. He was your wingman after all. Not too long after, you two were a team sought after by the many agencies you did free lance work for. “Damn that’s the third mission this month! Don’t you ever get tired of this sometimes?” “Everyday, but I gotta keep the bills paid, pretty boy.”

Your friendship was very flirtatious. People often thought you two were a thing and were surprised to find out they were wrong. You teased and bickered, gave little glances when the other wasn’t looking and complimented each other. His name in your phone was literally ‘pretty boy💋’ and yours was either ‘muñeca🧸’ (doll) or ‘hermosa🥰’ (beautiful). Each time y’all would call the other the pet names, you’d both blush. The crushes on each other definitely increased with each flirtatious remark.

“Damn girl, you know how to make an entrance.” “Wait don’t go yet, let me commit your face to memory in case I die out there.”

“Imma need you to focus, Torres. I know I’m exceptional to look at, but I don’t want that pretty face of yours getting hurt because you’re distracted.” “If you die out there, who’s gonna dance with me at next months officers ball?”

It would be a good time before Joaquin finally worked up the courage to ask you out. As much as he liked you, there was the fear it would ruin the friendship y’all had created. Joaquin admired you from afar and would brush aside his feelings when it came time to business, but at the end of the day there was no denying he wished for something more. At one point Sam even brought it up, wondering why he hadn’t made a move. “It’s complicated, Sam. She’s my wingman and I’d hate to lose her.” “Torres, I see the way she looks at you. Have you ever noticed she never flirts with anyone else when we go out. At banquets people hit on her, but her eyes are only on you. Trust me, she wants the same thing as you.”

Although Sam’s words made him confident, Joaquin was still anxious it wouldn’t work. So he continued to harbor his crush on you from behind the scenes. Finally you had enough and decided to take matters into your own hands after a mission. It had been nearly a year since y’all met and quite frankly your feelings for Joaquin were starting to become overwhelming. “Are we gonna dance around this forever, Torres? Or, am I gonna have to drag you to the bar to have a drink with me and kick this off once and for all?”

At his incredulous expression, you walked up with your hands coming to his collar to pulled him toward you. That finally had him snap out of his daze, face red by how flustered he was. But within his expression was joy and awe, “I-uh. Are you sure, y/n? I care about you so much a-and I know I’ve made my crush on you painfully obvious b-but I-I don’t wanna ruin what we have—.” “Joaquin, you’ll always be my wingman because I trust you more than anyone else on this planet. The fact you are blind to see I feel the same about is both shocking and adorable. I want you to be my wingman both on and off the field in a more personal manner. So what do you say?”

Let’s just say, the kiss you received was him a great answer.