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xanthippe74 · 3 years

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Drarry ficlet: Momento mei

2399 words | general audiences | angst with a happy ending

Thanks to @glittering-git for the beta!

Read below or on AO3 here.

Memento mei

It seemed like a blessing at first.

In the months after the war ended, the articles chronicling Harry’s deeds in the Prophet slowly waned from full pages of lavish words and photographs, to barely a mention of his name. Harry felt lighter for it, free. By the time the first term back at Hogwarts was almost over, he could go to Hogsmeade without worrying about flash bulbs startling him every time he stepped out of a shop.

“They finally got tired of you, mate,” Ron said with a laugh as they trudged back to the school after a morning of Christmas shopping. Harry scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it, none too gently, into Ron’s grinning face.

Harry and Ginny’s break-up didn’t get so much as a mention, even in Rita Skeeter’s gossip column, which had been relegated to an ignominious corner ten pages back from the front page. When he came out as bisexual and briefly dated Terry Boot that spring, he braced himself for a fresh round of publicity. It never materialised.

Harry looked in the mirror of the eighth-year boys’ bathroom and found he was truly comfortable in his own skin for the first time. His life wasn’t going to be scrutinised and dissected for public consumption anymore. The people around him didn’t think he was a freak or a waste of space.

One year after the war, with a handful of NEWTs to his name, Harry was at a loss for what to do next. There was no particular career he felt inclined to pursue, so he put his energy into renovating Grimmauld Place and spending time with his godson. He wondered at times why no one had offered him a job—Ron and Hermione had been deluged with letters—but he never mentioned it to anyone. It would have sounded awfully big-headed to expect anything to be handed to him like that, much less complain about it. While his friends began training programmes and apprenticeships, Harry Vanished broken furniture and stripped mildewy wallpaper off the walls. On the weekends, he met the usual Hogwarts gang for pub night or a party in someone’s cramped flat.

Harry looked in the mirror on his way out to meet his friends, giving his hair one last check. Maybe he’d meet someone new tonight. He winked at his reflection before leaving his newly-renovated bedroom.

Two years after the war, Harry didn’t think twice about walking through Diagon Alley on a busy Saturday. There were no stares or requests for autographs, no whispers when he paused to look into a shop window. He met friends for leisurely lunches. He ate ice cream at a table in front of Fortescue’s and watched people strolling by in the summer sunshine. Once, Harry walked the entire length of Diagon without realising that George had flicked a spell at the back of his head as he’d left the joke shop.

Harry looked in the mirror when he got home and was bemused by the things that didn’t warrant a second glance in the magical world, like hair that shifted between purple and orange every five seconds. He went over to Andromeda’s house to show Teddy, who laughed to see his godfather’s hair change colours like his did.

Three years after the war, Harry’s friends started forgetting to invite him to things. At first, they laughed it off as absentmindedness or a simple oversight. “I’m sorry, Harry! It must have slipped my mind,” was an excuse he began to hear more and more often. And then they began to look confused when he confronted them, like it was strange for Harry to expect to be included at all. As the months went by, the hosts of the get-togethers weren’t the only offenders—not a single person seemed to notice when Harry didn’t show up for something. When he mentioned it later, they would only lament all the fun he’d missed out on. His frustration curdled into self-pity.

Harry looked in the mirror the day he found out he’d missed Lavender’s engagement party, studying his unremarkable features and the unremarkable haircut he’d had since he was eighteen. Was he really so boring and unimportant that nobody thought about him much anymore? He didn’t mind in the least that the wizarding world wasn’t fawning over him, but it cut deeply that the people dearest to him no longer seemed to want or need his company.

It was only when his closest friends stopped recognising him that Harry began to suspect that something was terribly wrong. The first one was Luna, but she was often so lost in her own thoughts that it didn’t strike him as odd that she’d drifted past him in Diagon without saying hello. Then Molly looked at him blankly one day when he arrived at the Burrow for Sunday roast, as if Harry were a stranger who’d wandered in by accident. Thankfully, Ron was passing through the kitchen and greeted him as he usually did. Molly gave herself a little shake and ushered them both into the lounge.

Four years after the war ended, Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt didn’t mention Harry’s name in his speech commemorating the Battle of Hogwarts.

Hagrid didn’t invite Harry to tea for his birthday, as he did every year.

And when Harry popped into Neville’s flower shop to wish him happy birthday, Neville responded to his greeting with a baffled look. Harry watched in horror as he turned to Hannah and mouthed the words, “Who’s that?”

Harry spun on his heel and went right back out the door.

Either he was going mad or everyone else was. He walked around London for half the night, unable to think straight. The city was a vast ocean, and Harry felt like a small boat that had been set adrift, tossed around by waves of panic. When he was calmer, he decided to turn to the two people he knew he could always count on for help.

On his twenty-second birthday, Harry woke up on his sofa and rushed to the Floo to call Hermione before she left for work. He was flooded with relief when he heard footsteps approaching the fireplace. Ron’s face appeared in the flames—and immediately twisted into anger when he saw Harry.

“How did you get this address? Who let you into our wards? Get out!”

Harry sat on the floor for a long time after Ron had slammed the Floo connection closed.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

Oh, god—Teddy. Harry scrambled to his feet. Would Teddy shy away from Harry as he would from a stranger, the next time they saw each other? He stumbled up the stairs and dry heaved over the toilet.

Harry looked in the mirror and prodded his chalky face with his forefinger. Did he look unrecognisable to everyone but himself now? Did they see a different face, a different person when they looked at him? Or were they all under some kind of spell that erased their memories?

How had he been forgotten by everyone who loved him?

Forgotten.

You will be forgotten.

The phrase echoed in Harry’s head, causing him to sink down onto the bathroom floor. Over four years ago he’d heard those very words, snarled by a Death Eater as she’d been dragged out of the Great Hall by Aurors after the final battle. Harry had been so exhausted that the dank weight of her magic settling upon him had immediately vanished from his mind.

“The Dark Lord will always be remembered! But you will not, Harry Potter. You are nothing compared to him—utterly insignificant! You will be forgotten!”

Harry went to St Mungo’s to see the Healers, who shook their heads at the young man who insisted he was supposed to be famous. When they couldn’t fix him, they called in an Unspeakable who specialised in breaking obscure curses. After an hour of waiting, a man in hooded grey robes swept into the examining room. He didn’t show the slightest sign of recognition when he introduced himself to Harry as Unspeakable Malfoy.

Harry looked in the mirror above the sink while Malfoy cast diagnostic spells at him. He tried not to cry.

Malfoy didn’t make any promises when he was done with his spells, the results of which he recorded in a small notebook. He promised to send an owl if he found anything and asked for Harry’s name again so he could write it down.

If Malfoy couldn’t fix this, Harry decided on his walk home, he’d have to leave England. If he went someplace where no one had heard of him, they couldn’t forget him, right? The tears he’d held back at St Mungo’s slid down his cheeks as he thought about how much he’d gained, and now lost, since his eleventh birthday. Maybe he didn’t have the most exciting life or a career to boast about, but there were people who loved him. There were happy times and an old house that he’d turned into a home with his own hands.

Harry went back to Grimmauld Place and waited for word from Malfoy. He paced through the high-ceilinged rooms and climbed the long flights of stairs until his legs ached. He caught himself holding his breath, listening for a knock on the door or the roar of the Floo. When they never came, he went out to the back garden instead and lay on its small rectangle of grass. He considered where he might go—California or New Zealand. Or maybe some South Pacific island where it never got cold.

At last, Malfoy’s owl arrived four days after he had examined Harry. He’d identified the curse and, more importantly, found the countercurse.

Back at St Mungo’s, Malfoy greeted Harry coolly and ordered him into a chair. The countercurse was a droning chant in a language that Harry didn’t recognise, accompanied by complex wand motions that made him dizzy to watch. He closed his eyes until it was over, hardly able to breathe.

When the casting was finished and the room silent again, Harry opened his eyes and found Malfoy gaping at him.

“Potter? What the hell?” Malfoy looked over at his notes on the table, then back at Harry, his eyes widening even further. Then he said, faintly, “Well, Scarhead, that was quite the predicament you got yourself—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish. Harry launched himself out of the chair and crushed Malfoy in a hug, laughing tearfully into the shoulder of his Unspeakable robes.

“Gracious, Potter, a simple thank-you would suffice.” Malfoy wriggled out of Harry’s arms and stepped back to cast a diagnostic spell at him. “Do you feel any different?”

Harry thought about it for a moment. “Not really. Lighter, maybe?”

“You’re probably just relieved to be famous again,” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. “It must have been terrible not to see your own picture in the newspaper every day.”

“No, that part was actually nice. It was having my friends not even recognise me anymore…”

The rest of the words got caught in Harry’s throat. Malfoy’s expression turned sympathetic, and when he spoke again, it was with surprising gentleness.

“Well, then. I suppose you’d better go see them now, hmm?”

He accompanied Harry to the Floo in the reception area. Harry tried to glance at him as they walked, but he’d pulled up his hood to hide his face from the other people in the corridor. No wonder Harry hadn’t heard anything about Malfoy in the past few years—he’d buried himself in the depths of the Ministry, learning to undo Dark curses.

And letting the wizarding world forget him, Harry thought with a pang.

Harry shook Malfoy’s hand and thanked him. Whatever happened next, he knew he wouldn’t stop thinking about Malfoy, with his sharp gaze and clever mind, anytime soon. Malfoy, too, seemed to consider Harry for a few long moments before he stepped into the Floo.

This time, the only reason why Hermione and Ron were surprised to see Harry was because they weren’t expecting him on a Thursday evening as they were squabbling over what to make for dinner. He almost started crying again when Ron cuffed him on the shoulder and asked him if he wanted a beer.

Hermione noticed that he was upset first, of course. When Harry explained the curse, she blamed herself for not catching that something was wrong. Ron looked towards the pictures on the mantelpiece and swore under his breath. There weren’t any pictures of Harry there.

The good parts of Harry’s life returned to normal after that, and he was almost bursting with renewed gratitude for the people around him. Diagon was off limits again, since the vultures at the Prophet remembered to hound him, but that was a small price to pay. Harry threw himself a belated birthday party in Grimmauld Place, and the rooms were filled with music and laughter and shouted toasts in his honour. He never wanted the night to end.

Harry looked in the mirror before going to bed in the wee small hours, and he smiled with contentment at his bleary eyes and the glitter caught in his hair.

He’d invited Malfoy to the party on a whim, but received a polite note declining. Harry tried again and again—a Seekers game? Lunch in Muggle London? Tea at Grimmauld Place?—until Malfoy finally gave in. He showed up on Harry’s doorstep in jeans and a soft, well-fitted jumper. Harry found himself staring.

“Did you forget that you asked me to dinner, Potter?” Malfoy smirked.

“Oh, no,” Harry breathed. “How could I forget you?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Five years after the war ended, Harry spends his Saturdays teaching Teddy how to fly on his first broom and Sundays being climbed on by two or three small Weasleys who know he keeps sweets in pockets. He orders Christmas gifts by owl post to avoid star-struck witches in the Diagon shops. He slips into the Leaky Cauldron under his invisibility cloak to meet his friends for drinks.

And when Draco reads out the ridiculous articles about him from the Daily Prophet, Harry chucks the crusts of his toast across the breakfast table at his boyfriend and says he almost forgot how much of a prat he could be.

“You didn’t forget anything,” Draco says pointedly.

And Harry has to agree. He didn’t.

#my writing #drarry #drarry ficlet #now with AO3 link and header!

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waitineedaname · 3 years

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It was Tommy Coolatta’s birthday, and Gordon Freeman was shaking in a Chuck E. Cheese bathroom.

He hadn’t planned to end up there. He hadn’t planned to be in many of the places he’d been in the past… god. Week? Weeks? Month? The realization that he couldn’t remember how long he’d spent trying to escape Black Mesa made him grip the cheap tile of the bathroom countertops and shake even harder.

He’d tried to make it through the party as long as he could, he really had. He’d danced with Bubby and Coomer and tried his hand at the arcade machines and eaten what pizza he could stomach. But it was just… so much. He wasn’t sure how the others could party like that after everything they’d gone through. Everyone coped differently, he supposed.

He should probably go back out there soon, for Tommy’s sake. It was his birthday, after all, and after everything Tommy had done for him, he owed it to him to at least celebrate with him. He just… needed a minute. Maybe none of them had even realized he’d left yet.

“Mr. Freeman?”

Damn.

“Hey, Tommy.” Gordon offered Tommy a weak smile, though he could see in the mirror that it was more of a grimace. “Sorry, man, I’ll be back out there in a second. It was just… a lot.”

Tommy nodded, a sympathetic look on his face. “Do… Is it okay if I join you?”

“What? You don’t have to keep me company dude, it’s your birthday. Don’t stop having fun on my account.” Gordon tried to wave him towards the door, but Tommy was shaking his head before he’d even finished his sentence.

“No, I… It’s a lot for me too. The-” Tommy gestured vaguely as if searching for a word and failing to find it, “All of it.”

“Oh.” Gordon blinked. “Then, yeah, pull up a chair, I guess.”

Tommy gave him a small smile and shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned his back against it and let out a sigh that Gordon echoed.

They stood there in silence for a while, Gordon doing his best to get his shaking under control. With anyone else, he might have felt awkward, but this was Tommy. Tommy had been the one to practically carry him through countless tunnels and vats of questionable liquid when he was delirious from blood loss. If there was anyone he trusted to not judge him for having a breakdown in the bathroom, it was Tommy.

The metal of the HEV suit clinked against the linoleum of the sink, and suddenly it struck him how much he wanted this thing off.

“Hey, uh,” Gordon spoke up, clearing his throat. Tommy hummed in acknowledgement, “You’ve read a bunch of manuals, right? Did you read the HEV suit manual?”

“Uh, yeah!”

“Think you could get this thing off me?”

Tommy’s eyes widened like he’d only just realized how long Gordon had been wearing the suit. “Oh! Yeah, I can- I think I can do that.”

Tommy approached him slowly, as if approaching a skittish cat, then became more confident in his movements when Gordon gave no sign of flinching away. He began working on the back of Gordon’s chestplate first, slender fingers working deftly on the bolts and buckles that held it together. It was slow work, but with each piece Tommy lifted off him, Gordon felt he could breathe easier. A literal weight was lifted off him, and it only made him more aware of the ache deep in his bones. Every few minutes, there would be a loud noise from the main entertainment area of the Chuck E. Cheese; Gordon would flinch away from the sound, and Tommy would freeze in his movements, but then they would hear Coomer’s loud laughter or a snide, muffled comment from Bubby, and they would relax and resume their work.

After what felt like eons, Tommy finished unclasping the last buckle on Gordon’s boots, stepping back to let him toe them off himself. The HEV suit was a pile of orange rubble surrounding them, and Gordon suddenly felt exposed in nothing but his socks and the dark jumpsuit he’d been wearing under the suit. He felt like he could stand up straight without straining for the first time in weeks, and the feeling of the overpowered Chuck E. Cheese air conditioning seeping through the sleeves of his jumpsuit left him feeling flayed raw.

Tommy was staring at him with an unreadable look on his face, hands flexing and unflexing in a nervous stim. He reached out a hand, hesitated, then laid it on Gordon’s left forearm. Gordon’s skin burned under his touch. When was the last time he’d felt someone else’s body heat?

“Can…” Tommy’s voice was quiet and sounded as fragile as Gordon felt, “Can I hug you?”

Gordon didn’t trust himself to speak around the lump the size of a tennis ball in his throat, so he just nodded. Tommy outstretched long arms, and the two of them fell into each other.

Gordon’s whole body felt like it was buzzing right down to his core. He was lightheaded as everything hit him in that moment. All he had gone through. All he had survived. The fact that he was out, and he was alive. The fact that this was the first time he’d touched someone and felt it on his skin since he’d dropped Joshua off at his mom’s the week of the test. And it was Tommy who got to hold the title of the first person to hug him in far too long. Tommy who had been kind to him even when stress was making them all snappish, and who had made jokes with him when things felt grim. Tommy who had been the only one he trusted when everyone else left him for dead, Tommy who fought by his side so loyally and who removed that horrible suit with such impossible tenderness.

Gordon pressed his face into the shoulder of Tommy’s filthy polo shirt that smelled like sweat and blood but was warm and had probably been soft at some point, and he let out the loudest sob in his life. His voice shattered on the noise, and then he suddenly couldn’t hold it back anymore, sob after sob wrenching its way out of his throat.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever cried like this. Not when he was in labor with Joshua, not at any point during the Resonance Cascade, not even when his arm was being cut off. Nothing compared to these deep sobs that seemed to claw their way out of somewhere deep in his soul to burst out of his chest as everything crashed into him all at once.

He could feel Tommy’s fist balled in the back of his jumpsuit, and he could feel and hear Tommy weeping quietly into where he’d pressed his face into Gordon’s hair, and the raw sensations of it all only made him sob harder.

They stood there, clinging to each other until Gordon’s knees couldn’t hold him up any longer, and then they both sank to the ground, still holding onto each other like they were each other’s life lines. Maybe they were.

Eventually, Gordon simply couldn’t cry anymore, his tear ducts emptied, leaving him with a dehydration headache and a sore throat. He didn’t extricate himself from Tommy’s hold, though, and Tommy didn’t seem like he was going to let go any time soon either. He’d cried himself empty sooner than Gordon had, and now he was just stroking his fingers through Gordon’s knotted curls. Gordon didn’t want to think about how nasty his hair must be right now, caked in blood and sweat and god knows what else, but Tommy’s hand in his hair felt more soothing than aloe on a sunburn.

He snorted quietly when the simile occurred to him. He’d maybe been spending too much time with Tommy. He then immediately shoved that thought away and squeezed Tommy tighter. No, he had not spent nearly enough time with Tommy. Now that they were out, he could let himself think about spending time with Tommy when they weren’t in mortal danger. He couldn’t wait to watch Tommy’s favorite shows and listen to him infodump about them, or walk Sunkist in the sunshine, or take Tommy to his favorite restaurants, or introduce him to Joshua-

Fuck. God, he really liked this guy, huh.

Tommy pulled back ever so slightly, though he didn’t go far. Just enough to be able to look down at Gordon with those kind, intelligent eyes, and Gordon thought he might pass out. He moved his hand from Gordon’s messy ponytail to cup his cheek, and Gordon was certain he was going to pass out.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked. Gordon laughed despite himself.

“No,” Gordon said, tilting his head to better fit against Tommy’s hand and giving Tommy the tiniest smile, “I don’t think I am.”

Tommy gave him his own sad smile. “That’s okay. I… I don’t think any of us are.”

Gordon snorted. “That’s for damn sure.”

Tommy was still staring down at him with more tenderness than Gordon was prepared to deal with, “Do…” He paused, licking his lips. Gordon wasn’t embarrassed to say he stared at the motion, “I think I’m done with the party. Do you want to go home?”

“Yeah,” Gordon sighed with more exhaustion than a man his age should feel, “I would love that, bud.”

It took some maneuvering to get them both off the floor without tripping over the chunks of HEV suit on the floor, but neither of them seemed willing to let go of each other more than necessary. Eventually, they made it out of the bathroom, Tommy’s hand warm and solid in Gordon’s own. Dr. Coomer looked up from where he’d been punching apart an arcade machine when they entered the room.

“Ah, hello, Gordon!” He said cheerfully. “You appear to have been peeled!”

“Uh, yeah, Dr. Coomer.” Gordon huffed out a laugh, relieved that that was what Dr. Coomer was pointing out opposed to the fact that his face was definitely puffy and tearstained. “Tommy helped me get the suit off.”

“You look very sporting in your jumpsuit, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer said, returning to his destruction of Chuck E. Cheese property. Tommy smiled down at Gordon, and he was suddenly struck by the realization that the HEV suit had given him a couple inches of height because wow, Tommy was tall. Tommy squeezed his hand and looked up to flag down Gman.

“Hello, son. Dr… Freeman.” Gman greeted them both. Gordon nodded at him. The dude still gave him the creeps, but he could appreciate the parental fondness he’d seen him demonstrate for Tommy over the course of the afternoon.

“Hey, dad.” Tommy gave him a slight wave with his free hand, the other still holding Gordon’s. “I- um, this was a really nice party!”

“I’m… glad to, hear it. I, pulled out all the stops.”

“I can- I can see that! But, uh. I’m pretty tired. I-... Can you open a portal to Mr. Freeman’s apartment?”

If Gman thought there was anything strange about Tommy asking to go to Gordon’s home and not his own, he didn’t say anything of it. “Of… course. I, will begin to… wrap things up here before, our, friends can cause too much… property damage.”

He gestured to the nearest wall with very little flourish to show them the glowing green portal that hadn’t been there a minute earlier. Tommy gently tugged Gordon in its direction. Behind them, he heard Coomer call out “goodbye, Gordon!” and then in a flash, they were standing in his living room.

Were this any other situation, Gordon would’ve been embarrassed to show someone the messy state of his apartment without tidying beforehand, but he simply didn’t have it in him to care when his bed was within reach for the first time in weeks. It was his turn to tug Tommy up the narrow stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. They both collapsed on his bed, neither bothering to change out of their bloodstained clothes, which Gordon was sure they’d regret in the morning, but considering he could barely summon the energy to pull the sheets over their shoulders, he decided that was a problem for future Gordon.

Tommy pulled him into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world, like this wasn’t the first time he’d ever been in Gordon’s apartment, like they hadn’t met less than an hour before the worst disaster of their lives. Gordon felt the soft flannel of his sheets brush against his skin, and he felt the softness of his pillow under his head, and he felt Tommy’s warm body all around him, and he fell asleep solidly for the first time in weeks.

#hlvrai #freelatta #tommy coolatta #gordon feetman #my writing #okay to reblog #I have so many emotions involving these two oh god #shoutout to risk for sending me the post that inspired this and immediately killing me dead #I will probably reblog this with an ao3 link once I get it posted there

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brokenangelwings22 · 3 years

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Here's probably my only entry for IHweek. I've finally returned to writing. This is an excerpt from chapter 2 of my story Come Back Down to Earth. You can read the first chapter either on AO3 or FanFiction

Confession (IHweek 7/4) Please enjoy!

Chapter 2: Crawled In and Never Left

Give me the chance to tonight

I'll prove to you what's in my eyes

(It’s My Turn To Fly - The Urge - Titan AE soundtrack 2000)

Ichigo considered himself a reasonable man, but his patience was growing thin with his roommate.

“C’mon, man! You had a solid chance with Hime last night!” Renji pleaded with him. “Why are you so obtuse?”

“That’s an awfully big word for you.” Ichigo rolled his eyes at his friend. “Ever think of taking your own advice with Rukia?”

Renji let out a long suffering sigh. “You’re both hopeless, and therefore perfect for each other.”

“I’m perfectly happy with how things are with Hime. I don’t want to chance it.”

Renji pulled out a box of pretzel sticks from the cupboard. He fixed a concerned look on his face, and the seriousness unnerved Ichigo.

“Look. I’m not gonna force you. Even if I think you’re absolutely nuts not to. I will, however, point out that you’re an idiot for not telling her how you feel.” Renji pulled out a piece of pretzel and pointed it at Ichigo to emphasize his thought. “You’re gonna lose her one day if you continue to be ridiculous.”

Ichigo narrowed his eyes as his scowl persisted. “You think I am not aware of that?”

Renji placed the stick between his teeth and grinned toothily. “Yup!”

A sleepy noise came from behind the two men just as Ichigo opened his mouth to snap at his friend.

“Mm morning guys,” Orihime yawned as she stepped into the kitchen. “Any coffee? It’s too early.”

“Sorry Hime. Were we too loud?” Ichigo asked, his previous scowl morphing to something more kind.

“No,” she murmured. Her voice was still thick with sleep. She stumbled a little, bumping into Ichigo. “Oh hi wall. You smell nice.” Orihime leaned into his chest and snuggled him.

There was a strangled sound from Renji as he watched the young woman wrap her arms loosely around Ichigo’s waist. Instinctively, Ichigo wrapped his arms around her to steady her.

“Renji,” Ichigo said softly as to not disturb Orihime. “Please brew some coffee for her.”

“Jeez if I had known that Hime could instantly dissolve your sour mood with an embrace, I’d handcuff you both together.” Renji grumbled and shook his head, walking over to the coffeemaker on the counter.

Ichigo hummed a distracted acknowledgement as he idly stroked Orihime’s long auburn hair. She snuggled into his broad chest further. “Thanks. I’ll move her back to her room.” He was already moving towards the living room as he heard Renji’s snarky reply.

“Oh take your time. I’m merely here to serve.”

~*~*~*~

Ichigo sighed heavily as he stepped out from Orihime’s room and shut the door behind him quietly. He turned to walk down the short hallway, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw his two friends standing a few feet away with evil grins on their faces. Squaring his shoulders and fixing a glare at Renji and Rukia, he taunted “Don’t you both have something better to do? Like, absolutely anything?”

Rukia’s grin sharpened further. “Nah, we’re more interested in heckling you.”

Ichigo grumbled, raking his fingers through his unruly hair. “Yeah yeah. You’re both insufferable.”

He flicked Rukia’s forehead and smacked Renji’s upper back swiftly as he moved to leave.

Rukia’s retort was loud as she declared, “And YOU are the annoying brother I never asked for and yet somehow got!”

Renji’s muttering was barely noticeable under the small woman’s rage. “C’mon, Rukia. Let’s leave him be.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, stepping around the ornery woman and made his way to the kitchen. Of course, Renji was right. It annoyed him to no end that he hadn’t spoken with Orihime about how he felt towards her. Hell, if he were being honest, he knew that he was in love with her at first sight.

She’d stumbled into his dad’s clinic, buckling under the weight of her brother’s prone body. This girl, only 12 at the time, carried her six foot and change older brother from the scene of the car accident all the way there. She was battered and bruised from the wreckage too. It broke him to his very soul when he had to tell her that his father was unable to save Orihime’s brother. The ambulance Isshin had called to rush him to the trauma ward of the hospital had simply not gotten there in enough time.

He did his best to console Orihime, who collapsed in a heap on the clinic floor. Her clothes were soiled with dirt and caked in her brother’s blood.

Yuzu had entered the room, and with a kind and understanding voice, ushered the broken girl to the bathroom to wash up. Orihime stayed at his house for several days, mostly walking around with mechanical movements, much like a zombie or a robot, just going through the motions of a semblance of normalcy. At night she’d cry herself to sleep. Ichigo stayed by her side when she was awake, and would help her to bed when she could barely stay up right.

Slowly, but surely, Orihime processed the loss of her brother. Ichigo stuck to her like glue, promising her and to himself that he would always be there to protect her. Orihime professed her gratitude to him soon after she moved back to her apartment, telling him that she was eternally grateful for everything he had done. As time went on, they became inseparable. They went to the same middle school and then high school, which introduced them to new friends that they quickly established into a tight-knit group.

Orihime had grown up beautifully. Her smile, warm and bright, had the ability to render him speechless and lightheaded. He felt invincible and vulnerable all at once. Far too many times, their friends would catch him when he was slack-jawed and mindless, teasing him mercilessly when Orihime wasn’t looking.

He began calling her ‘Hime’ their senior year. He hadn’t meant to, but it just slipped out. She had been followed by a group of boys who often flocked around her, taken by her beauty and her curvaceous body. One of them had ventured to put a hand on her shoulder without permission and Ichigo had snapped. Any restraint he had frayed instantly and before he understood what was happening, he had slammed the cretin against the wall and threatened him.

“You don’t touch women without consent, especially Hime.” He growled at the other guy, clenching the offending limb.

Orihime had called his name softly, telling Ichigo to let the man go, and he had simultaneously dropped him and her request. Ichigo made it a point to be by her side every chance he had. To protect her, love her from a distance if need be. It was enough, at that time.

But once Ichigo, Orihime and their friends entered university, the strain to keep a tight seal over his feelings became increasingly more difficult. His best friend flourished in academics and her social life expanded to include other people outside of their small group. With that also came obstacles, and Ichigo had to fend off more than a few of Orihime’s admirers.

Ichigo gripped the handle of the carafe of coffee angrily at the memory. The steam and scent of the hot brew brought him back to the present. He sighed after loosening his grip and poured two cups, adding cream and sugar to Orihime’s.

Soft footfalls behind him reached his ears, along with a quiet yawn. A grin spread on his lips as Orihime came into view.

Orihime blinked away the remnants of sleep from her eyes, smiling brightly at Ichigo when he offered her the cup he’d gotten for her.

Taking a big sip, she sighed happily. “Thanks, Ichigo. You always know how to make my coffee just how I like it.”

Ichigo smiled gently at her, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Well, after knowing you for ten years, I’d like to think I know you well enough to get your preferences right.”

Orihime giggled and gazed up at him from behind the mug pressed to her lips. “You do, and I’m grateful for that. Lord knows why Rukia insists on adding extra sugar and Tatsuki puts in too little cream. You are a hero among men, good sir.”

Ichigo’s smile widened at Orihime’s playfulness. “I try my best, m’lady.”

“Where are Rukia and Renji?” Orihime asked as she looked around the kitchen.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Hopefully somewhere off annoying someone else more deserving.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Orihime snorted bemusedly, shaking her head in disbelief as he tried to sound convincingly bored and grumpy. She raised her hand to place it on his right cheek in a fond manner.

“What am I going to do with you?” Her question came out more flirtatious than she intended.

Ichigo’s eyes widened at her sweet gesture and instantly leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and revelling in it. He had never realized how touch starved he truly was until Orihime would step into his personal space with her warm smile and kind gaze. It was as if that one thing, a fleeting brush of her fingers, or a soothing embrace had the ability to heal his wounded heart or eradicate any scar left on his soul.

Losing his mother at such a young age had made him a hardened and angry child. He blamed himself for her death, believing that if he had done something, spent more time with her, taken care of her and his sisters more, that she may very well have recovered from cancer. But his father had explained to him many times that the disease was caught too late, and the malignancy had metastasized from her cervix to her uterus and ovaries very quickly. Ichigo was still struggling with the loss of his mother two years later, when Orihime stumbled into their clinic with her brother.

He’d figured that no matter how miserable and heart wrenching it was, he had found purpose in consoling Orihime. It gave him unbelievable strength to bond with her over the loss. Helping her ultimately helped him as well in the end. The desire to be with her only grew. It had crawled in and never left. He’d become greedy for it, overthrown by his desperation to be close to the light that was Orihime.

She continued to lightly graze his cheekbone with soft brushes against him, her warm fingers causing pleasant tingles on his skin.

Orihime cupped the side of his face as she watched in awe how he was drawn to her touch, feeling the soft smile that pulled at his lips. When he raised his hand to place it over hers, she felt herself being pulled by an invisible force, almost magnetic. He had always been like that, and she adored being the one that he let in entirely. She stroked his cheek and began to pull her palm away until he held fast to her. His eyes fluttered open, and the look he had in them made the breath catch in her throat.

“Ichi-“ she murmured breathlessly.

The raw emotion that flashed in his dark amber gaze made her spine tingle, her heart stutter and her cheeks warm. He had the ability to render her tongue-tied with the flicker of something deep and foreign to her. Ichigo pulled her into his arms, finally allowing her hand to move, and she found herself slipping it to the back of his neck and burying her fingers into his soft hair. He wrapped his arms about her, pulling her to his lean, muscular body and sighed happily as Orihime sifted her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp comfortingly.

Orihime pressed her ear over his heart, as he towered over her five foot one frame. The thumping, strong sound of it beating quieted her mind immediately. He slid his hands up and down her back, and she felt herself melt into it.

“I… I just need this, Hime.” Ichigo’s whisper filtered into her ear as he pressed his lips to her temple, sending a shiver through her body. Though quiet, she heard the fervency in his tone. She nodded against him, continuing her movements through his hair. She felt him shudder in their embrace and the breathless ‘thank you’ that he uttered.

“Were you thinking about something?” Orihime whispered back, her eyebrows drawing inwards as the possibility fluttered through her mind.

Ichigo nodded, letting out a stuttering sigh. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m better now.”

She hummed thoughtfully at his response, resigning herself to his simple answer. She wouldn’t push him further.

Finally Ichigo pulled back from her to look her in the eyes. His gaze was still intense, as it flickered with what she could only identify as resolve and something far much more akin to what she assumed she wore as an expression often in his presence. It made her heart skip a beat and her mind to race at the possibilities.

“Hime,” he murmured. The way he said her name was like an urgent plea. It caused her stomach to swoop down like she was on an out of control rollercoaster. She waited on baited breath as he gathered his thoughts.

Ichigo’s mind was restless. His need to put into words how he felt about her, loved her, desired her rushed through and permeated the recesses of his brain. He should’ve been used to the intensity of it by now, but he most certainly wasn’t. The way she watched him gave him strength to form the words, stilling the overbearing thoughts warring to leave his mouth.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. His simple response was anything but, knowing deep down that this could make or break their friendship. The smile she gave him nearly shut down his brain entirely.

“What took you so long?” Orihime breathed before Ichigo’s mouth was on hers, his lips holding nothing back as kissed her with all the desperation and hunger of a man starved. The radiating joy splashed over the burning desire thundering through his veins.

Orihime parted her lips as she let out a sound that would’ve embarrassed her outside of this situation. Instead, she felt exhilarated to an immeasurable degree. Her body quaked at the reverence and pure heat he poured into it. It was as if the dam of years of keeping everything bottled up in fear of losing each other burst and flooded them all at once.

She clenched her fingers in his hair as he delved his tongue into her mouth. Orihime felt her body fight between melting and being drawn taught, like a string on a bow. Ichigo’s hands slid down to her hips, flexing and gripping at her flannel pajama pants and flesh. She angled her head when he held her firmly, seeking out his tongue with her own.

Ichigo was quickly lost in the taste of her skin, the sounds she made and the feel of her. His nerve endings felt like they had caught fire. It was a sensory overload in everything Orihime. If he didn’t think he was greedy before, he certainly was now.

~~~(TBC)~~~

I certainly hope you all liked this! I should have the chapter finished bit up fairly soon. Thanks so much for reading!

Also— I’m uncertain why this isn’t showing up in the tags, so I’ll try it again.

#ihweek2021 #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #ichigo x orihime

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laurenandloki · 3 years

Note

Oooo idea time guys and gals,

Giant boy Loki babysitting a tiny child :0

Requested by @just-more-gt-trash !! I’m sorry it took me a while to write this for you! I ended up writing the whole story today just so you didn’t have to wait any longer lol😊

Hope you like it!

——————————————————————————

~Teasing Brings Tears~

“Goodness, how did I get myself into this mess?”, said Loki aloud to himself as you clung to his finger. Loki had decided to introduce you to a couple of movies he had found in his closet because he thought that you’d enjoy them. You’ve always shown an immense amount of curiosity for someone who’s only 8 years old and Loki loved that about you. In a way, you reminded him of his younger self. Always curious, but very reserved and shy. He figured the movies would perk your interest and get you to come out of your shell.

Most importantly, he hoped that it would get you to relax more around him. You always stuttered whenever you were with Loki and he hoped to one day stop that from happening. It wasn’t because you were afraid of him. It was just because of how big he was.

Loki didn’t realize that the movies he found were all horror films. So, at the expense of his carelessness for not checking the content of the films, he was forced to let you cling onto his finger. He didn’t have the heart to tear you off of him, so he dealt with the slow loss of circulation.

“Child, can you let go of Uncle Loki?”, he said. You immediately shook your head no, shoving your face into the huge digit you had your arms wrapped around.

“I am not going anywhere, small one. I promised your mother that I would watch over you for the night and I am going to do just that”, said Loki. He had promised your mother that he’d babysit you for the night so that she can spend a few hours relaxing. He has been friends with your mother now for a few years. She lived her whole life in the Avengers Tower in secret, but once Loki moved in, he discovered her within 4 days.

Her friendship with Loki blossomed, but her relationship she had with the man she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with came to an end once he found out that he was going to be a father. Your mother was devastated. It was hard enough getting certain supplies. She never would have been able to do it all on her own if she hadn’t met Loki.

Loki was furious when he found out what happened, but soon became ecstatic when your mother told him about her pregnancy. He was over the moon! Your mother had never seen Loki so thrilled before. He vowed that he’d protect your mother and, without question, you once you were born.

The same question would be thrown at her day in and day out, “Can the little one call me ‘Uncle Loki’ once they’re brought into this world?” Your mother would always laugh and agree to let him have the title of being your uncle.

He loved playing with you. Casting illusion of different animals seemed to be your favorite thing when you were around 3 years old. Loki didn’t mind your requests. He loved seeing you play with whatever animal you wished him to make. Your mother watched from the side lines. The tight knit friendship you and Loki had was all she could have hoped for.

Anyways, Loki was sitting in his bed with blankets and pillows all around him. You sat cupped in his hands, hugging his thumb close to your body. It was the only thing keeping the tears in your eyes from escaping. You didn’t want Loki to think you were a baby.

“My dear, if you let go, I will cast illusions of your favorite animals”, said Loki. He was going to bribe you in anyway he can. Loki didn’t want to see you scared anymore, especially in his presence.

You surprisingly ignored his offer. You thought that he was just going to leave you be, but after a few seconds passed, there was suddenly a weight on your waist that was pulling you away from Loki’s thumb. You held on with all the strength you could muster up, but it just wasn’t enough. Your hands lost their hold on the thumb and you were soon being lifted up to meet the gaze of two green orbs, Loki’s eyes.

“I win”, said Loki with a smirk on his face. If anything, Loki lived up to being your uncle pretty well. Mainly due to the fact that he loved to tease you.

You didn’t say a word to him. “Oh come now, you honestly don’t think that the monster in the film is real, do you?” He paused for a brief moment so you could think that over. “Well, actually now that I mentioned it, I’m fairly sure those types of beasts live in New York-...” He felt you grip on tighter to his finger that was pinching your waist. Loki smiled mischievously.

He decided to keep on poking you with his remarks. “I have actually seen pictures of those creatures in a book back on Asgard. I do recall one of the chapters stated that they feast on children-...mortal children to be exact.”

Loki expected you to laugh, even spare him a little smile, as he joked with you. He obviously wasn’t being serious. Those monsters in the film were a complete disgrace to the ones that could be found throughout the nine realms. However, none of them ate mortal children as Loki had told you. So in the end, you honestly had nothing to be afraid of.

All he got in return were tears covering your cheeks. You started whimpering; your body visibly shaking. It was hard to keep it together when Loki told you that there really are monsters out there. You just couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

Through your whimpers, which were getting louder, you heard Loki gasp in front of you. As quickly as you started crying, you were gently pressed against a soft, but firm, warm surface. Your eyes shot open and saw that Loki had pressed you close to his cheek, giving you a makeshift hug.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Loki’s other hand approaching. His pointer finger extended outwards and you watched as the tip of it rested on your head and tenderly moved back and forth, stroking your soft hair.

You let it all out at this point. More tears streamed down your cheeks. You stretched out your arms as far as they could and hugged Loki back. The comfort that you were getting from Loki helped a lot.

Loki did his best to calm your nerves. He wasn’t exactly a pro when it came to empathizing with others, but when you, and even your mother, were the ones who needed a shoulder to cry on, Loki would do whatever it takes to get your mind out of its miserable state.

He slowly started to pull you away from his face. A dagger of guilt punctured his chest when he felt you try and grasp onto the skin of his cheek.

You didn’t want the hug to end yet. Facing Loki with the amount of tears that had just left your eyes wasn’t exactly how you wanted Loki to see you. You wanted to be brave for him, but right now it was hard.

Loki held you in front of his face again, gently using the pad of his finger to wipe away your tears. You sniffled as he did this, which made Loki think you were going to start balling again.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright Y/n. I was just joking, my little dove. There are no such creatures like the ones in the movie that even exist”, said Loki.

“B-But you said-...”

“Shh, shh. Forget what I said. What I said were lies. I was just teasing you.”

He pulled his finger away from your face, allowing you to wipe away the excess tears.

Silence filled the space between you and Loki. You had your hands laying in your lap as you sat cupped in Loki’s massive ones.

Loki noticed that he couldn’t feel your tiny form shaking in his hands anymore, so he asked, “Are you alright now, darling?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Y-Yes.”

Loki smiled to himself. “Oh thank the norns”, he said in a funny tone.

You giggled. Loki always knew how to make you laugh. His sarcasm was your number one favorite thing to belly laugh to. You couldn’t even think about the times Loki and your mother had thrown sarcastic replies at each other. You laughed for more than an hour that day.

“How about I choose a movie that isn’t scary? Would you like that, my dear?”, Loki asked as he lowered you down to his chest. You nodded your head yes.

“Alright. Let’s get you comfy then, shall we?” Loki tilted his hand and watched in amusement as you slid down his long fingers. You landed on his chest and almost immediately covered yourself with Loki’s shirt.

He laughed at this. “Y/n, I found the most soft blankets in the tower and yet you cover up with my shirt?”, asked Loki.

“I-It just makes me feel closer t-to you. I feel safe and protected”, you simply stated. You couldn’t see it from your position, but tears had sprung into Loki’s eyes. For Loki to know that you, the smallest being he had ever conversed with, felt safe with him, was the one thing he was most proud of. Many beings that were his size feared him, yet here you were.

“That means more to me than you know, little Y/n. Thank you”, said Loki. You smiled up at the giant god and curled up in a ball. The warmth that radiated off of Loki was much better than any blanket that you covered up with.

“O-Oh! Loki?”, you shyly said. He looked away from the television across the room and down at you with a questioning look.

“Can you c-cup your hand over me?”, you asked.

“Of course I can, sweetheart”, he said. Loki gently rested his hand over you. His hand was so big, he could cover your entire body and no one would be able to tell if there was a little borrower underneath it. He loved how tiny you were.

You could hear the movie that Loki decided to play begin, but sleep decided to take over instead.

Loki smiled from above you. “Good night, my little, brave Y/n. Your Uncle Loki will be here when you wake up. Sleep well.”

#tom hiddleston #loki fandom #marvel #mcu loki #loki laufeyson #loki #loki g/t #loki odinson #marvel g/t #dailymarvel

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demibats · 4 years

Text

make a mess. [bucky barnes]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Run-through: The love and heartbreak of knowing the Winter Soldier

Word Count: 1.5k

Themes: ANGST ANGST ANGST, smut

Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier, was the love of your life. Over the span of the three years you were together, you came to realize that. You would’ve killed or died for him and he would’ve done the same. The magnetic attraction was evident from the moment you met him. Those memories still were as clear as the day it happened.

“This is James,” Steve had said, introducing you to the metal-armed man, “This is Y/N.” Your eyes met and it was like you saw the future you wanted with him so badly in that millisecond.

He playfully punched Steve’s arm with the metal fist before outstretching his flesh hand to shake yours. Once he had your hand in his, he surprised you by bringing your knuckles up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on them.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You said to him, blushing like mad.

He looked up at you, “The pleasure is all mine.”

The pain was still there and all too real. The heavy rocks that existed in your chest never left and you knew they’d stay there. You put on a mask, of course, to hide your pain from the heroes around you. Almost all of them saw through it, but they wouldn’t bring it up in fear of upsetting you or making things more awkward than they already were.

You assisted the Avengers in a way that went overlooked to most. You were a behind-the-scenes agent, compiling data, updating mission reports and doing much research on enemy targets or missions. You worked closely with Maria Hill, but rarely fired your gun. It was necessary to carry it and know how to operate it, but you weren’t in the line of fire often. At least, not anymore.

You kept things business as usual until you were secluded to the confines of your room. You could finally take off the mask you’d forced yourself to always wear in public. It hurt seeing Bucky every single day, having to interact with him, having to act like nothing happened between the two of you. You thought that as the days went on, it would hurt less, but it only seemed to bring more pain into your life.

“You have a lot of freckles on your back.” He mumbled into the back of your head, his metal arm cradling you protectively, his body pressed against yours.

You turned your head back slightly, trying to look at him with a sarcastic expression, “Well quit looking at them.” You snapped, your cheeks heating up as he pointed this out to you.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at how shy his observation made you, “No way, doll, I’m gonna count all of them.”

As he slinked down your back, counting the freckles, he placed gentle kisses on your skin. Eventually he was down between your legs, having given up on counting the freckles. Instead, he caressed your hips, face buried in between your thighs, flicking his tongue against your clit rapidly. You arched your back against his face, tugging on his mocha-colored locks, signaling to him that he was doing a good job, to say the least.

The memories you had couldn’t just disappear. You thought about them daily, hourly. You wished you could have that back again, to have him back in your arms, back in your life in the way he was. It just wouldn’t happen and both of you knew it. You knew that no matter the years that you spent together, the connection you had, the memories that plagued both of your thoughts, that that life you had built no longer existed. It only existed in memories.

You kept yourself busy almost every day, working when you were scheduled not to, working during your breaks. It kept your mind off of the inevitable thoughts that would come once you were alone. Some days you were angry for constantly throwing yourself a pity party, some you were numb to all feelings and some you were so hellbent on keeping yourself busy that you managed a subtle smile every once in a while. It hurt like a bitch thinking that Bucky was actually fine. That was another thought that kept you up at night. How he might be sleeping just fine while you toss and turn without the heavy dip in your beside you, created by his weight.

“You act like I can’t take care of myself, James.” You rarely ever used his first name, but during arguments, it tended to pop up more often than not.

Bucky stood a few feet away from you, trying to fit words together without letting his anger take over, “I have every goddamn right to worry. This is a field mission, Y/N. Of course it’s gonna make me feel uneasy.”

“I know what I’m doing! I compiled the report for this, I did the research. Quit treating me like a child.”

You couldn’t see past the worry as him almost parenting you on what you could and couldn’t do. You weren’t seeing the worried boyfriend, you were seeing a bossy, arrogant man that didn’t even exist.

“Something could happen. Something could go wrong that none of us could expect, and you could be put at bigger risk than you already are.”

You scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean, James?”

You knew what it meant. It meant that because you weren’t genetically modified, that you weren’t some super soldier, or an enhanced individual, that you would only be a distraction to others around you.

He stuttered, trying to think o f the right words to use, but he couldn't.

“Yeah, okay. Get the hell out of my room, James.”

No amount of self-care nights, favorite food binges or Netflix shows could fill the gaping hole in your chest. Heartbreak is no joke and you knew that. You had just never experienced it to this extent. You imagined that Bucky hadn’t either, considering his lengthy past. That thought was the only thing that kept you from sobbing into your pillow. That maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the heartbreak as well.

You thought about the reason why you and Bucky broke up often. Trying to figure out a way that maybe the two of you could still stay together. It seemed unlikely and Bucky was stubborn, he wouldn’t just give in… not even for you. You stayed up late into the night, thinking of him. How maybe some night he might sneak into your room and want you again. Some nights, you would get up and walk toward his room, but you never made it all the way there. It would be too embarrassing if he turned you away.

“Buck, will you hand me that med-kit behind you?” Steve kept his voice calm, staring down at you as you faded in and out of consciousness.

You tried to tell the team that you were fine, that it was just a scratch. It was actually a bullet wound that was bleeding steadily. Bucky didn’t listen to Steve, but instead continued to stare off into space, completely zoned out. Steve got up to retrieve the kit himself, purposefully nudging Bucky to try to get him to snap out of it. Steve patched you up as best as he could, then when he tried to tend to your other smaller wounds, you gestured him away. You closed your eyes, lip busted, broken cheek bone and the top to your uniform ripped away, a large bandage tightly tied around your hips to stop the bleeding from the gunshot wound.

Eventually, you passed out from blood loss and woke up in the Hospital Wing of the compound, wearing a sports bra and loose sweats. Your head ached but that was nothing compared to the feeling of guilt. Bucky knew this would happen and you fought him tooth and nail to be on that mission, to prove to him that you can handle yourself. You knew that you’d never hear the end of it.

And then you did. You heard the end of it two days later when he broke things off, explaining that you’d be safer. His voice was deadpan, avoiding eye contact the entire time. He offered no room for discussion, he only said that you’d be safer and he apologized for allowing your relationship to go on for so long that you got hurt. You were more than physically hurt after he broke up with you. You stood where he left you, angry, wanting to storm after him and yell and cry and work things out, but knew that that would get you nowhere. He made up his mind.

You’d always pictured how things could’ve worked out had you two still been together. You thought about all the dates you hadn’t gone on, about him proposing and having the perfect wedding. Maybe you’d even have kids, he’d talked about wanting a baby before briefly. You pictured them with his eyes, knowing they’d mean more than the world to both of you. These thoughts of yours weren’t helping. Sometimes they’d make you feel good for a moment, stuck in your head, daydreaming. Then you’d be snapped out of it and have to face the realization that that wasn’t in your cards anymore.

You were simply left to put yourself back together and you’d do exactly that. It’d hurt like hell at first but you WOULD be able to do it. He’d made the mess, but you’d make sure no one else would notice it.

#marvel smut #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #captain america #oneshot #smut #imagine #drabble

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

Text

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 10 - Clean This Up

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, who is he really?, 2.9k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: abuse, mild violence

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Alex had said to check the diner, so Victoria opted to have dinner there and asked to see the owner. She was aware of the vigilante-style work she was doing, but with everything else going on in her life, this couldn’t possibly hurt any worse. Folding her hands, she breathed calmly as she peeked at the menu. It was important not to act as authoritative as she usually did, she reminded herself. A portly man with short gray hair and a mustache came over and took the seat across from her.

“Hi there,” the man said, shaking Victoria’s hand. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi, I’m Victoria Molina,” she introduced herself. “I was actually trying to find someone and I was told you could help me.”

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, alright. Who are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for a young man of about seventeen, he goes by Willie? I was told he works here. I just have some questions for him. Would he happen to be in at all today?”

“We don’t have anyone named Willie here anymore,” the man told her. “I actually just bought this establishment along with the hotel about two weeks ago and a few of the staff followed the previous owner to a different business. You might want to talk to him instead.”

“Oh,” Victoria sat back in slight disappointment. “I take it you’re not Caleb Covington?”

“No, he’s the guy I bought it from. I’m Frank Wolfe. I can give you his contact information, though.”

Nodding, she smiled politely.

“I would appreciate that. Sorry I had to come bother you, though.”

“Not at all,” he said. “I apologize that I can’t be any more useful. If you like, I can take your order.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll actually have the carne asada.”

“Perfect,” he smiled as he took her menu away. “I’ll have that information for you in just a minute, too.”

Taking a gulp of water, Victoria sighed. It certainly felt just like any regular case. The fact the business had recently changed hands made her want to be suspicious, but she fought to remain level-headed. It was enough that she was going off the word of a teenage boy and an old poster. If it was a dud, if this trip led nowhere, she would buy Carlos a gift and head home safe and sound.

After finishing her meal, she returned to her hotel room and pulled out the business card Frank Wolfe had given her. Something about the dark purple design and the old-fashioned lettering he’d chosen made her feel like Caleb Covington was at least a little pretentious, if not flashy about his business. Picking up the phone and dialing the number, she held her breath waiting for an answer.

“Caleb Covington, who may I be speaking to?” a baritone voice chimed on the other end. The touch of sing-song in his tone was unexpected.

“Hi, my name is Victoria,” she introduced herself for the second time that night. “I was told you were the guardian of a young man named Willie?”

“Are you with social services?” he asked.

She furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry?”

“I usually only get a call when we have a hearing scheduled, but our last one was just a couple months ago.” His tone had gone from happy to serious at such a jarring speed it took Victoria a moment to process his words.

“No,” she said finally. “No, I’m not with them. I didn’t mean to confuse you. I’m actually reaching out on a personal favor. See another young man I know says they met a while back.”

“Oh, is it the band that came through a few weeks ago?” Caleb immediately picked the cheer back up.

“Yes, I’m glad you remember,” she responded, surprised.

“How are those boys doing?”

“Oh, they’re just fine. I think they’re gonna be a success.”

“Good to hear it,” he said. “Listen, no harm done. I own a swanky little club just in the south of town. I would be delighted if you gave me a visit, and I’d be happy to chat.”

“Sounds great, thank you,” Victoria smiled, unable to believe how easy that felt. “I can stop by tomorrow evening.”

“Wonderful. If it isn’t too much, I’ll make you a reservation.”

“Well, I can’t say no to such generosity!” It had been a long time since Victoria had gone on a night out. This was a much needed vacation, and if it killed two birds with one stone, all the better. She said goodbye and decided since she was practically getting everything she needed at the club, the rest of the day would be spent treating herself for once.

Willie skateboarded up the driveway and only just remembered Caleb’s rule about the pool in time to hop off before pulling off his helmet and going around the back. He took the back route into the house and dropped a number of grocery bags on the counter. One of these days he would age out of the foster system and not spend the morning being Caleb’s errand boy, but for now he just laid Caleb’s credit card on the table and went outside toward his shed.

Opening the door, he saw Caleb standing in the middle of the room, looking around at all of his drawings. Paper covered most of the walls now. Faces with no names to them, locations with no map to their destination - only snippets of a past life. Willie couldn’t stop drawing them. There still weren’t many memories returning to him, but any detail was an important one. He hadn’t drawn this much in ages, since before he found Sheldon. The backwards dream had become a recurring one by now, and there was still very little that he understood about it. Still, he had so many scenes made out of it that he could almost recreate the dream in a very rough animation.

“Hi C-Caleb,” Willie stammered. This never happened. It made him immediately nervous.

“What a collection, William,” Caleb said, not exactly sounding like an awed patron in a museum. “I mean, the sheer volume of work that went into these is absolutely mind-blowing.”

A small pebble of pride rose in Willie’s chest.

“Really?.... Um, thank you.” He couldn’t suppress his smile.

Caleb held up a hand and looked down at his well-manicured nails, and then back up.

“I just don’t understand why I look so hostile in this one,” he said, pointing to the picture in question. “And that one. And all of these in this corner.” His gaze returned to Willie with unprecedented menace.

Willie immediately shrank away, his mouth gaping open.

“Well...I..they’re from a dream.”

“A dream?” Caleb repeated, not liking what he was hearing.

“Yeah, I think it was a memory.”

Willie watched the man straighten his posture, a calculating expression on his face.

“Are these all memories?” Caleb asked after a tense moment, casting his eyes about the room.

“I think so,” Willie said hesitantly.

Caleb lifted a hand and grabbed the bottom of one. It was the first one WIllie had done of his dad sitting inside the truck and smiling at him.

“Hm,” was all that he said for a second.

And then he tore it in half.

Willie made toward the picture in alarm, feeling a part of him inside being torn just the same, but was stopped as Caleb held a hand out.

“Ah ah,” he said. “What have I told you about becoming your own person regardless of the past?” He took a handful of another drawing and ripped that one too.

Ignoring what Caleb said, Willie lunged forward to try stopping him anyway. Caleb was faster, grabbing his shirt and tossing him backward into the wall. He couldn’t help but begin crying.

“But these are my memories, why would you - ” he sputtered, lost for words.

“Because, William,” Caleb continued loudly, pulling as many as he could off the wall and shredding them into smaller pieces. “Your history? The one full of loss and being shuffled here and there? That is all that awaits you. You know it’s the truth; that’s how you ended up here. I offer you the opportunity to become a new person, and I can’t allow you to spoil yourself with reminders. And besides, those little friends you not-so-secretly made a few weeks ago have started snooping around in my business, and I can’t have that.”

He didn’t even pick anything up, he just left paper strewn all over the floor and walked all over it. As he made for the last wall, Willie made one more attempt to overpower him. He leapt onto Caleb’s shoulders and tried to pull him back with all his weight. A fist landed in his eye and he slacked his grip. Caleb wrestled him onto the bed and held him down, a crazed look in his eye that Willie swore he’d never seen no matter how familiar it felt.

“I don’t understand, what do they have to do with it? Why can’t I have friends?”

“I’m doing this for your own good,” Caleb hissed at him. “You” - he reached up and touched the scar on Willie’s head with his finger - “You got a reboot and you know how many people are lucky enough for that? You should thank me. Unfortunately, you can’t have friends when they send someone asking me questions about that little past of yours. That’s just asking for trouble.”

All Willie could do was hold his eye and lay back as Caleb tore up the last of the drawings. Once he finished, Caleb patted himself off and made his way out the door.

“Clean this up,” he told Willie. “And don’t bother doing any more art.”

As the door shut behind him, Willie scrambled onto the floor to search for just one of the drawings. Shuffling through smudged pieces of paper, he saw a few tears drop onto his ruined work. Eventually, he held the picture of his father in two pieces in his hands. Sobbing, he tried to hold them together evenly, but Caleb’s work had made that hard to do. His only hope was to try drawing it again, but he was already terrified of what Caleb’s reaction to that would be if his first one had been this.

A piece of another drawing caught Willie’s eye from underneath. He recognized Caleb’s snarling face from the dream and was surprised at how well it captured what he’d just witnessed. His mind went back to the way he knew the look in Caleb’s eyes. Suddenly, the awful realization dawned on him: he finally understood the dream.

Victoria walked into the club that evening, glad she had taken the time to look and feel fresh. This place was clearly up to snuff and then some. A live band played with dancers scattered throughout, all in bright, sparkly, feathery getup. A tall man with neatly styled dark hair was mesmerizing the crowd as he sang, keeping the energy high. As she was led to a table, Victoria simply sat and watched, greatly impressed with the talent.

Once the man’s solo finished, he bowed, gestured at the band to play on without him, and exited the stage. To Victoria’s surprise, he took the seat directly across from her.

“Ms. Victoria, you look so lovely, how are we this evening?” he asked with a charming smile. “I’m Caleb Covington.”

“Are you kidding me?” she started. “That was you up there? You’re a man of many talents; I’m already dazzled.”

“Oh, well, I hope that remains a constant while you’re here,” he said. "But you came to ask me about some other things, what were they?”

“Yes, I had some questions about Willie.”

Willie sat outside the bodega, unwilling to move for a while. He felt like everything inside of him was empty, as if Caleb had possessed claws and dug everything out until he was left hollow. The many ideas that had risen in his mind in the past few hours were all too much, all at once. If he dared, was he sure he could handle everything that might come his way? Every time he’d heard that ridiculous speech about starting over, becoming his own, yada-yada, he hadn’t considered any of the options he was now contemplating.

He’d already done some things. Already bought some things. Now he got up to collect Sheldon and held him tightly as he nodded to Escobar, who saluted him back. The man had said he didn’t want a dramatic thank you. Stuffing the items he purchased in his bag, he kept a hold of Sheldon as he skated off into the darkness.

“So, you see, Willie isn’t missing. He was abandoned,” Caleb was saying to Victoria. “Poor thing has struggled to adjust. I’ve dealt with some handfuls in the past, but I really have been doing the most for him, and he’s been with me for more than three years. I think it’s really sweet of those boys to raise a concern, and I hate to be a dead end, but that’s the truth of it.”

Victoria sat, nodding in acceptance.

“That makes a lot of sense, Mr. Covington, thank you for providing that for me.”

“Oh, call me Caleb. We’re all friends in here.”

“Okay, then, Caleb,” she corrected. “What got you into foster care?”

He put a hand over his heart and a fond look came over him.

“The youth are just full of so much magic, and I hate to see that their parents have chosen to lay it to waste. I’m the one who takes some of the tougher cases so I can bring out the best in them. You see that young man over there, Dante?” Caleb pointed at one of the dancers. “Classic rebel when he was young. You wouldn’t even know, he’s turned into such a gentleman. There’s a few more here and there in the club. I call them my graduates.”

“Well, I will tell you,” Victoria said. “When I first talked to you on the phone I wasn’t expecting you to be so generous. But now I can see that it’s just how you are.”

Caleb shot her a playful smile.

“Victoria, no need to butter me up. I do have some tight business practices to keep up.”

Fluid poured over every inch of the shed. Willie had made sure it was more than enough to get things going. He’d made sure to get the essentials: food for himself and Sheldon, a few changes of clothes, and a stash of money he’d taken from the safe in Caleb’s bedroom. The man shouldn’t have given him the combination in the first place.

Stepping out of the shed he looked at it one last time. What a sad, lousy existence. Living to perform for this man who shut him up inside this little thing and he had actually called it home? The further he was into his plan, the bolder he began to feel. He remembered when he had missed getting into the Pearl and that feeling of wrongness that had made him so frustrated. This feeling he had right now? It was so right. It was so right it drowned out anything scary about this whole idea.

He looked back at where he had put Sheldon on a small leash and tied him along the fence around Caleb’s backyard. It was definitely a safe distance. Then Willie pulled a box of matches out of his pocket, lit one, and looked at the flame for a minute. He held it just over the threshold of the doorway so it would land inside. It was so weak, like he had been ever since his accident. But he knew it was going to become so powerful, and he desperately hoped that he could retain some of that power for himself.

“Clean this up, Caleb,” he said, and he let his fingers go.

Victoria had stayed just a little longer to enjoy more food and music before standing up and heading toward the door. Caleb saw her on her way out and made her stop for a moment.

“It’s been a lovely night, and I’m grateful for everything you told me,” she said to him.

“Well I’m glad you took the opportunity to see what I have here,” he replied. “If you’re ever in the city again, please stop by. We’re always partying and putting on the best show.”

“Oh, I most certainly will,” she said, smiling as she made her way outside.

Someone tapped on Caleb’s shoulder from behind. Wordlessly, he turned to see who it was and why it was important.

“Sir,” one of his servers said. “You have a phone call. It’s the fire department.”

“What?” Caleb spat as he went to pick it up.

Willie sped along on his board the best that he could with Sheldon in his arms. He carefully made it down the ramp onto the freeway, controlling his speed as well as he could. He could picture Caleb now, just getting back to his home, eyes wide as he came upon the blaze. It was a very strange feeling, but right now Willie chose to focus on his newfound freedom. The cost wasn’t the matter right now. Freedom was all that was going to take him and his cat as far as they could go. The destination for now was Los Angeles.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #aunt victoria #caleb covington #tw abuse #tw mild violence #viva las vegas #clean this up #fiddlepickdouglas

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zhanyes · 3 years

Text

No salvation for sinners in Hell

Words: 2,762 Tw: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

A look into Jian yi’s life in the Mafia.

“He prays for mercy as the souls of the dead drag him down, his blackened soul, his withered heart, screaming for reprieve, yet only silence answers his calls in the void of his own doing, for all that he has done, there is no salvation for sinners in Hell.”

. . .

He was brought to hell on the night of his first day of High School.

He wonders, if he didn’t go home that time, if he just accepted Zhengxi’s offer of staying over for the night, would things have ended differently? He could almost chuckle at the thought, such wishful thinking had no room in hell, not when the answer has always been at the cost of his own life and everyone else’s.

The mafia took him in when he was halfway through the familiar path going to his apartment, and everything else was a blur after that, or maybe that was just the drug pushed into his system. Either way there really wasn’t anything he could do at that time.

When he woke up the next morning, it was with a throbbing headache in an unfamiliar place, he wasn’t even sure he was still in China, for all he knew he could have been shipped off to the other side of the world. He only felt a small amount of relief when he saw the familiar figure of Brother Qui, not that it helped any, the man refused to answer any of his questions and only instructed him to get dressed. Without anything else to do, he followed and was led to a patio where a man with pale brown hair sits alone.

Even from the distance he could tell that the man was dangerous, and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he knows this man, or at least he should. For once, he wished he was wrong.

The man was introduced as his father, but more importantly, the boss of the most powerful Chinese Mafia. He was told about his past, how he was taken by his mother away from the mafia to live a “normal” life, how they striked a deal that he was to be left alone until his mother passed away and he was no longer under her protection.

He didn’t get to grieve the implication behind the man’s words, his mother was dead, and he knew without a doubt that the same man was the reason for that.

The man, his father, said it was only a matter of time before he came back to his roots, it was his fate. He wonders, what was the right reaction at that time? To cry? Scream? Laugh from the absurdity of it all? He doesn’t know, but he ended up doing a combination of the three anyway. He vaguely remembers the look of disgust on the man’s face, like he was lower than the dirt they stepped on (he knew he was), before he was dismissed back to his room.

In the end, he never got to ask where he was.

. . .

The following days felt like a dream (or was it a nightmare?) he was led throughout the mansion, Brother Qui told him it’s where he would be staying from now on and everyone there was tasked to serve him (“and to keep him underwraps.” he didn’t say it but the underlying threat was clear enough).

The next day he was forced into a car to be brought into the mafia base on the outskirts of the city they were in. He remembers hundreds of people, in various black and red suits, bowing to them, before he was ushered away to a darker hallway devoid of people.

The first corpse he sees is the body of a woman in her 30s, from where he stands he could see the three bullet holes shot through her chest, and from the way her jaw was open too wide and rows of broken teeth, there was no doubt that it was broken. Her eyes were still open, fear still palpable even after her gruesome death.

On the day he lays his eyes on the first corpse he sees, he vomits the only meal he had for the day. Brother Qui kept quiet as he cried and retched, only forcing him up to move further down the hallway where more bodies lay. When he asked why, the only answer he got was silence, and he guessed that was enough. Hell was no place for the living.

They go through the same hallway everyday, and everyday the corpses change, but they’re no less dead than the ones who precedes them. Sometimes he hears screams, the unmistakable sound of gunshots being fired, one, two, three, and the cracking sounds of bones breaking. It goes quiet after that.

He wonders if maybe Brother Qui was trying to do something, to desensitize him from the blood and the gore, of seeing dead people with empty eyes.

He gets his first kill a week after he was taken.

. . .

That day, he was led through the mafia base like always, through familiar corridors, through the sea of people showing respect, and through the dark hallways where corpses lay. But then for the first time since he arrived, there were no corpses, not even a splatter of blood on the grimy floors and walls. And when they reached the end of the long hallway with a single door, somewhere he’s never gone so far before, when Brother Qui hesitated before leading him inside, when he catches the brief look of pity and regret on the gray eyes turned on him before the usual steely gaze took place, he really should have known.

Inside there was a bound woman around his age, if not a little older, with a gag preventing her from screaming and teary eyes turned on him, pleading. Beside her is the man who calls himself his father, looking oddly at peace, though his eyes carry no small amount of malice. There were only four living souls in that room and a projector.

His first instinct was to help the woman, rushing to drop to his knees in front of her and posing to untie the binds wrapped around her. His hands didn’t so much as graze the rope before the projector opened, and his world stopped.

He should have been relieved, the tears in his eyes should have been out of happiness, and this sinking feeling in his chest should have been out of longing; for the first time ever since he was taken, he saw Zhan Zhengxi again, on the screen but it was him nonetheless. God, he missed him so much. He would have been happy, overjoyed really, if only he wasn’t looking through the visuals of a sniper, a trigger away from taking his everything.

A gun was put on his open palms, its weight heavy in all sense of the word. The man said it was his choice, he held the life of the people in this room including his own, the only rule was that there will always be a loss at the end. The choice was so easy, he could shoot at his father he had no attachment to, but he wasn’t stupid enough to believe the words that came out of those smirking lips. This was a test he was bound to lose, he only ever had two choices from the very start.

Briefly, he wonders what would happen if he took his own life instead, but quickly set the thought aside. He was too scared to die.

He looked at the screen again, Zhan Zhengxi was still there, still clueless to the danger he was being faced with. He looks as beautiful as he always is, if only a bit distraught. He notices the dark bags under those ocean blue eyes he loves so much that were definitely not there before he disappeared, the frown, the slump of his shoulders, and thinks, ‘Ah, he’s taking this hard.’ He looks at the man he’s loved all his life, his best friend, his everything, and looks at the woman who was nothing but an unfortunate stranger.

Ah, I’m a fool. He thought. There was never a choice in the first place.

“Make your choice, son.” The man, the monster, orders.

With one last look to Zhan Zhengxi, he aims the gun shaking in his grasp at the woman who struggles fruitlessly. He wants to close his eyes, he wants to run and never come back, he could feel his stomach squeeze as the meal he ate steadily climbed up his throat, but all he could offer was a whisper that meant nothing as he pulled the trigger.

“I’m sorry.”

Blood and brain matter splatters on the walls and his skin, tainting it red, dirty. He does nothing but continue to watch as the last remains of life leave the woman’s eyes, taking a part of him as it goes. He can’t bear to look at the proud smile his father shines at him as if he did something good, as if he didn’t just kill someone. He doesn’t look at the screen again, at Zhan Zhengxi, and it dies leaving the room half-lit just like it was before, a room of four people reduced to three by his own hands.

This is hell, and he was a sinner.

. . .

He didn’t get to see Zhan Zhengxi anymore after the incident, but the message was already ingrained in his mind nonetheless. His loyalty came at the cost of losing his best friend. It became easier to follow orders after that.

He spent most of his days at the mansion learning about how the Mafia worked and how he can be of use to it. Every strategy for success, every possible way to kill someone, every weakness to exploit, every winning move in the board game was forced into his mind. There was no time to spare details, no time to grieve or to rest.

Brother Qui told him that more than strength, more than any gun or any sword, the mind was the Mafia’s most dangerous weapon.

When he’s not studying, he goes off to train with the Mafia’s men. Because while knowledge was important, it can’t help you dodge a bullet or fire a gun, or at least that’s what they said. So everyday, he goes to bed with new bruises and new ways to end someone’s life. His heart continues to wither in his chest.

There were days when he would be called to his father’s office, to talk he says, after all they’ve been separated for so long. But he knew, it was nothing more than a master making sure that his dog’s leash was tight enough to almost choke it, no chance at escape and only kept to follow commands. He hates those meetings the most.

Sometimes if he’s lucky, his father won’t see him at all, Brother Qui would just introduce him to the people of the Mafia and tell stories about their expeditions. He never asks, and frankly he doesn’t like the stories either, but he figures it’s Brother Qui’s way of giving him the slightest bit of normality. Those days, his chest feels a bit lighter, and the fire threatening to consume him seems to burn less, those days he’s grateful for the white-haired man.

. . .

It’s a month after his first kill that he meets a familiar face again. He Tian came like a ray of light, like salvation in the form of a teenager he came to call his friend. But like everything he’s been through as soon as he stepped foot in this hell, he was met with disappointment as He Tian strides past him, ignores his desperate calls, to kneel at the foot of the monster he loathes the most.

Ah, he really shouldn’t have been so surprised.

He finds out, He Tian has been part of the mafia for some time, and his brother, He Cheng, was the right hand man of the boss, succeeding their father. He finds out that He Tian was sent to his school to look after him, to befriend him and make sure he didn’t do anything that could deface the Mafia.

Suddenly, flashes of memories flood his mind, of sleepovers and late night calls, of the trip they had in the mountains, of that little quint café they often go to and the usual table they might as well have reserved for their little group, the band they thought of forming, and he feels so much betrayal he could almost taste it. It tasted bitter on his tongue.

When they were finally left alone, he wanted to say so much, he wanted to scream at him, to ask why, why did he do this, he wanted to hit him, his fists clenched so tight his nails were forming crescent moons on his palm, and he knew He Tian would have let him do everything he wanted then. But one look at those dark eyes and his resolve dissolves into thin air, he could do nothing but crumple to the ground and sob as arms wrapped around him. There was no warmth nor comfort that either of them could offer.

He Tian shared the same eyes he sees in the mirror every morning. Hopeless, lost, stuck, they were on the sinking on the same boat after all. And he understands then, hell could never offer comfort to children born into sin.

. . .

His second, and the hundred that followed, kill happened two weeks after their meeting. It was his first real mission, Brother Qui said, he said it was to test everything he’s learned so far, and he was assigned to join the fray with He Tian. Apparently, there was a small group trying to overthrow the Mafia and it was messing with their business so they had to do something about it as soon as possible. Of course, that meant eradicating the whole group. Death was the only way to come to a conclusion in this life.

He considers not going, if only to stew off his own guilt, and wonders what this is all for. He really, really should have known better. The choice was, and will never be, his.

The answer to his rebellion came in the form of Brother Qui’s severed head on a gift basket.

. . .

He remembers staring at it numbly, cupping his hand on the cold cheek while fresh blood drips down to his bed. His eyes, the only warmth he could turn to, were nothing more than empty sockets crying red, and his mouth, that told him stories he didn’t even like, was left open in a scream that could never be heard again. Belatedly, he notices the strip of paper folded where his tongue used to lay.

‘I expect good results from your first mission, Jian yi.’ It read.

The silence was broken by anguished screaming, and he wonders where it was coming from. Only when he felt the scratchiness in his throat did he realize those screams were coming from him after all. When he came to, he was curled up on the floor, it seems somewhere along his breakdown he dropped Brother Qui’s head and could only try to hide from it as empty sockets looked through his tainted soul.

He ran to the bathroom to vomit until there was nothing left in his stomach. He scrubbed his hands, his arms, his skin, everywhere he could reach, raw but the blood never washed away.

That night, He Tian found him submerged in the bathtub overflowing with water.

He didn’t know what happened after that, he vaguely remembers being carried to He Tian’s room and being swaddled with blankets near the fireplace. He remembers the sting of disinfectants on his arms where he scrubbed too hard, and in the midst of it all He Tian kept quiet, eyes dark and unreadable.

. . .

In the morning, he goes through the mission with the note at the forefront of his mind. With every kill he makes, with every scream he ignores, with every blood spilled on his hands, his heart grows blacker than black, until only ashes are left inside his chest.

He returns to his father with only good results as expected, for the first time, he looks at the proud smile, and kneels at his foot. He realizes, there are no winners in a war except for those who started it, there are only losses for those who serve.

So he continues to kill, because death means nothing to the Mafia, it was only an extension of the life they were forced to live. He never questions again what all of this was for, there was never an answer.

After all, this is hell, and he is a sinner. He could never belong anywhere else.

#19 days #19 days mafia #19 days fanfic #19 days fanfiction #Jian yi #he tian #zhan zheng xi #zhanyi #brother qui #old xian #why did I write this #forgive me for the angst i put in this fandom #angst

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bloodyblade · 4 years

Text

Tremble For My Beloved [1]

Pairing: Thorin x Fem!Reader Summary: AU in which the daughter of a nobleman was running for her life after an orc attack, and after being welcomed under Gandalf's wings, joins the quest to reconquer Erebor. Sort of. Warnings: Mentions of violence and gore, a tiny bit sad. Word Count: 2.353 words.

[Ao3]

Chapter One.

The earth beneath your feet was shaking and trembling, or perhaps it was your legs that were too spent from running in a desperate and unprepared sprint. Entering a crumbling house, you hide behind a wall, standing on a crouch to be able to take a peek on the outside from the window. Holding the machete tightly to your chest, your eyes sweeped the hiding place you chose looking for possible exits.

Sweat was running down your face, lingering at the eyebrows and making their way down. Your heart was beating as strong and fast as a drum, you could feel it in your chest, throat and the sound in your ears. Harsh breaths were coming out silently as you could manage. You were trembling. Exhausted, scared and hurt. Dirt was accumulating under your fingernails along with specs of blood that also tainted the green dress you wore, shoes and thighs, finer than many could ever wish for, had its beauty and delicacy ruined. You looked ruined.

Your hair, that before was put in an intricate updo, was now almost completely loose and caked with sweat and blood that wasn’t yours. Askell, who you grew up having him as your shadow, died for you. He was your protector, always have been. A knight dedicated to you, before you could even walk and always accompanied you through your most important feats -learning how to walk, riding a horse for the first time and then falling epically on your ass, watching you from afar on your every name day. God, it was his blood on your hair, face, chest, dress. The blow was so hard on his head that he fell over you, who were behind him just like he demanded you should be. You scrambled back but part of his body landed on you, knocking you to the ground with him before you could push his body off, Askell’s heavy armour making everything even more difficult. Just as the enemy turned around, you finally managed to get free and balance your protector’s weapon by your side. It was pointy and shone under the candle lights, as if it had never been used before. Because it hasn’t, Askell never needed to. No one in your father’s state ever needed too.

But looking up and coming face to face to this… creature’s face, your blood ran cold. It was pale and ugly, uglier than any story could ever make up. So you got up at your fastest pace and with as much strength you could gather, took the knight’s weapon and ran. Ran until your lungs were on fire and felt like your deep, uneven breaths weren’t enough to keep your body going. Everything passed in a blur, as if your body alone knew what it was doing and so you dodge the fights and screaming and crying people, successfully making your way out of your forever home and the whole manor and what else it consisted of. As you slowed down, you ventured into a small city, knowing you must have ran a lot, for the city your caregivers always spoke of was certainly a few miles away.

And that’s how you found yourself where you are now. You didn’t look back in fear of what you could see and in fear of your enemies, which was most definitely a stupid decision but you couldn’t go back now. You knew your father had enemies, but never thought anyone would be so cruel to try and murder not just your family line but other nobles that were present at the feast your father was giving. Did someone hire them? Did your father somehow get on these creature’s bad side and leave them seeking revenge? How would dad even get in their way?

Don’t think about it. Those things didn’t matter, not anymore at least. Askell was dead, your father was most certainly dead right now and your mother died the moment you took your first breath. You heard how people would whisper that when you came out of your mother’s womb, you stole her breath and ultimately caused her death, and that it was a sign of a curse they were certain you carried: anyone to ever love you would most likely face an awful and painful death. So far, they weren’t wrong. Perhaps you were cursed.

You stayed alert for a while, besides the sounds of your now normalizing breaths, all you could hear were the sounds of nature that surrounded the place. Overgrown grass surrounded the house, allowing for all kinds of bugs to make home there. She could see the flickering soft light of the fireflies, hear the cicadas and buzz of wings that flew past your face, way too close for your liking. And you started to lose track of time, your legs growing tired from carrying your weight in the same position for too long. Slipping slowly towards the ground, you let yourself rest for a moment, closing your eyes and puffing a shaky breath past your lips. You were so tired. It felt like a fever dream, the people chatting and laughing and eating and mingling around. The sound of your father’s boisterous laughter ringing loud and accompanied by many others. A song played on the background softly, a few people fluttering on the ground with grace and kids running around, being chased and chatiest by their caretakers. Braids more intricate than others, some showing off and proudly stating their status, either as rich as piss or happily married, courting. Beads as beautiful and delicate than many could ever wish for. Gosh, you did wish to have one on her hair at some point in life. But now all that seemed so… shallow and unimportant.

How could such futile happiness become a bloodbath so quickly? Thankfully you didn’t see any children hurt and held ignorant hope that they managed to flee to somewhere safe. Gosh, you could hardly believe that, on her way there, she slashed one of the monsters, the hard blade buried itself on his shoulder as he screamed in rage and pain, blood trickling down it’s bare chest and after tugging once, twice to get it out of him, it’s blood rushed out like a horror story would detail, making him stumble and set its eyes on you form, but before he could do anything, you hit it with the machete hard on the knee, making him fall on his face. Although the goal was to kill it with a hard strike to his chest, the weight of the weapon didn’t allow you to do so. But this creature was the same that killed Askell, so you felt a hint of satisfaction to cause it enough damage to somehow avenge him.

But it’s not like you didn’t get hurt at all, you were no fighter, even if Askell did try to give you self defense classes with a smaller sword. Main word being try. You could manage, but doubted you could handle yourself in battle, but he assured you that you would never need to go into battle as long as you had him. Your hairline was definitely sore and the skin open, allowing a little blood to pool around and dirty your face worse than it already was. On your run, you tripped and fell on your hands and knees, getting your palms scrapped and pulsing with pain from the fall and having to carry a heavy weapon your unprepared hands were unused to.

And you waited for something, anything. But nothing came. Were they waiting for you to leave the place or go back to the manor? It was better to stay here until morning, wasn’t it? Probably, yes. So, with your knees to your chest, you put your head between them, allowing your body to relax a little and feeling yourself going a tiny bit slack, your machete close by your side.

If it weren’t from the footsteps on the house terrain, you would’ve fallen asleep for your eyes were heavy and mind fatigued. Standing up slowly and carefully, trying to step as lightly as elves would, you picked up your weapon and walked towards the front door. Whoever was outside, their steps were light, but not light enough that you couldn’t hear them. You could also notice how confidently they were walking, so it couldn’t be children either, and by the sounds of it, they were alone.

Your head was pounding and your hands were shaking again, you were reaching the peak of exhaustion. You held your breath as three knocks sounded one after the other on the door. After not giving any kind of response, the door opened slowly and creaked loudly and a tall, slim robbed figure stood at the door, against the moonlight only their silhouette can be seen.Holding the weapon in front of you with both hands, you took a fighting instance, or what you thought could be described as it.

“Reveal yourself.” You demanded with a slight tremble and agitation to your voice, only to have the figure step forward with a chuckle. It was a man, with a long staff and grey robes that reached the ground and covered the length of his body. And he was old, a long beard adorning his face. A pointed blue hat complemented his appearance, making him look like… like he wanted to seem like a wizard.

“Ah, I figured you would be here, Y/N daughter of Sindel, son of Serill.” The senile man began, walking closer so you make out his features. His beard was as long as she initially made out, and as white as his long hair, just like the scarf he wore. His bushy eyebrows framed his eyes, wrinkled due to the warm smile he was trying to convey.

“Who are you and how do you know my name? How do you know my father?” You asked, keeping yourself unmoving where you stood. He sighed deeply but didn’t let his lips turn any other way.

“I’m Gandalf, the grey.” He brought his unoccupied hand to his chest, introducing himself kindly, before letting it fall along with a sorrowful expression on his face. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but I vowed your father to take care of you should… the unexpected turn of events happened before time was right.” He motioned for you to lower your hands, and you did it hesitantly. If he wanted, he could’ve hit you that staff he was holding, but he probably needed aid to keep standing. He looked very old. “In fact, you’re not safe at all while you’re here, come.” He motioned for you to follow him as he turned around but you didn’t move an inch. How did he know your father and did this man owe him anything? Did you even know your father at all? He looked back at you, taking carefully your fear struck features and ratted clothes and understood. Of course he knew there was a slight possibility you didn’t know anything at all about who your father truly was but more importantly, who you truly were and just how important you are.

“How do you know you’re not one of them?” You finally voiced your main concern at the moment, Gandalf cocked his head to the side. “My… My family was murdered. How do I know you’re just trying to lure me out here so they can finish what they began?” You took another step back, waiting for an answer. He didn’t look exactly threatening but you couldn’t afford to trust anyone, not right now.

“Would that answer your question?” He asked as he handed you the object that was in his possession. Where did he get this? It was a dagger. Your mother’s dagger. One of the belongings she left for you, passed from mother to daughter in your family’s lineage. The design on the hilt was intricate and beautiful. It was rather dusty and had a few marks of use, but you were sure it would’ve been from her. Your father often told you how skilled she was, but never allowed you to use it. It was merely something decorative laying proudly on your nightstand. Until you lost it. You cried for days and dared not to tell your father, he would most likely be furious. Askell told you once how your parents knew your mother could possibly not survive after birth and how she separated and dedicated something for you, her first and only child. Your dad did ask you once about it, he probably already knew by them, but you decided to pretend everything was where it was supposed to be. Which was wherever you wanted it. That earned you a pointed and warning glare for him but you only smiled sweetly back then. Now you had a slight idea where it went.

And it could be a copy, a very good one, for there were several skilled blacksmiths your father knew about. If it weren’t for one detail, you would not have believed him: two designs on the blade. The vessels of the sun and moon. Your mother has always been so devoted to Mahal. Your eyes glazed over, but you didn’t allow yourself to cry. Straightening yourself, you looked at the man that was waiting patiently for you to analyze what was yours by right. You looked at him with determination and a chuckle left his lips as he smiled again.

“Come, let’s get you somewhere safe for the time being.” He beckoned you closer again and this time you obeyed.

“Where are you taking me?” You questioned as you looked around warily, searching silently with a calculated gaze for any threats. Night time was never kind for those endangered and that’s exactly what you were. You could trust him, maybe. But you didn’t know if you could protect yourself and the old man as well. What’s with the pointy hat anyway?

“Well, my dear,” he began, waiting for you to fall into step besides him “You most definitely are in desperate need of a shower.”

#bb writes #thorin x reader #thorin x you #the hobbit imagine #thorin oakenshield x reader

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snk-oc-guide · 3 years

Text

Please review my OC?

Danica Orlov Name meaning: "Danica" is the latin word for Danish, but it is also the personification of the morning star in slavic mythology. "Orlov" means "son on Oryol" in Russian, a nickname meaning eagle. Nickname(s): Red(for her hair color), Dani (by her yearmates)

Species: Human Gender: Female Age: 16 (850) Height: 170cm Weight: 60kg

Relatives:

Radek Orlov (father)

Francine Murphy (mother)

Birthday: June 3rd, 834 Birthplace: Mitras Residence: Wall Rose Status: Alive

Occupation: Soldier Affiliation: Survey Corps Former Affiliation: 104th Training Corps

Former Occupation:

Seamstress Apprentice

Medic Apprentice

Field Medic

Thief

Scullery Maid (Dishwasher)

Graduation Rank: Outside Top Ten

Titan Kills: During Battle of Trost

Solo: 0

In Team: 0

During 57th Expedition:

Solo: 0

In Team: 0

APPEARANCE: Danica is a juvenile female with thick, auburn hair that sweeps down to her shoulders which she wears up in a bun or ponytail and amber colored eyes. Standing at a height of 170cm, she is broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped, fairly muscled and not very well-endowed. Her fair skin is heavily freckled, as if someone generously sprinkled breadcrumbs on a plate, and the stress and small numbers of sleeping hours of the past years have painted crows feet and dark circles permanently on her eyes.

As a soldier, Danica wears the standard uniform with the badge of the Survey Corps. When off duty she dresses in a loose, boat-necked green shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black opened vest, black tights and knee-high sturdy boots.

PERSONALITY: Danica is a reserved, mature, pragmatic and intelligent girl whose caring heart and kind nature have hurt her heavily after the fall of Shiganshina.

As a child she was open and expressive, unafraid of taking risks and getting hurt. Surrounded by people she loved and who loved her in return she led an idyllic childhood. Unafraid of work, she was completely in her element when helping around her foster family's bakery or later in her apprenticeship.

From an early age she showed restraint over her anger, not wanting to hurt those around her and preferring to just back down from an argument, although she couldn't always keep a lid on her emotions. For her to get really angry took a good reason or a buildup overtime, but when it happened she would stop caring about the feelings of others and use her words to strike where it hurt most. After reducing others to tears, Danica would feel ashamed and renew her effort to temper herself. Her self-restraint was noted by her foster family who encouraged her to always be levelheaded.

Sensitive and empathetic to those around her, Danica craved a greater understanding of people and the world in general, although she never entertained thoughts of going outside the walls. She was content with her lot in life, with her work and with her family and friends, even if they weren't related by blood. Despite wondering now and then who her real parents were she never gave it much thought as in the end she felt it didn't matter.

After the fall of Shiganshina, Danica retreated into herself, becoming listless and apathetic. It didn't help that the Beckers blamed her for living, while their daughter did not and had ceased all relations with her. That the only person in her life who remained committed soon afterwards suicide when both of them were drafted among the refugees for the culling of '46 made things even worse for Danica. She felt abandoned, lonely and depressed. Her thoughts and dreams gave her no rest, when she wasn't thinking about Adele (the Becker's daughter), she was thinking about Gigi (a seamstress and friend).

The world felt old and decayed, she was constantly tired and weary and only got up every day out of bed because she could not stand the thought of wasting away. It also helped that her new employer in Trost had taken a liking to her and had started her on a crash course in medicine, to increase her chances of coming back. Not wanting to disappoint him or to be useless she persevered. A larger part of her simply didn't want to die.

The horrors of the expedition that came from both Titans and people who had nothing to lose and no restraints anymore, left a lasting mark on Danica. Unable to view humanity with kindness or concern anymore, Danica grew to have problems relating to those around her. The loss of the man who had helped her and later her partner in crime only made her sink further in her depression. Had Hannes and one of his officer not been notified of Elia's body and found her alongside him, Danica might have just remained there until she wasted away. Hannes kindness however rekindled something inside Danica who realized she still wanted to live and that she was tired of being tired, sad, weary, guilty, ashamed, lonely and always having to start again.

Her decision to join the Garrison changes after the Battle of Trost however when she begins piecing the puzzle in front of her and realizes that things are not what they seem. Wanting to learn the reasons behind the war, but more so about the Colossal and Armored Titan who had ruined her life she decides to join the Survey Corps, even if she would come to regret it.

HISTORY: Radek Orlov was a Military Police officer whose affair with Danica's mother, the youngest daughter of a noble non-Eldyian clan affiliated with the ruling government, saw him transferred to the Survey Corps when it was discovered Francine was with child. As for Francine, herself, she was forced to go into hiding until Danica was born then give her up so that the Murphy's wouldn't be affected by scandal and that her engagement to the eldest heir of another noble clan could go through.

(rowan) you say her mother, francine, is from a non-eldian clan. that isn't possible, as all the residents within paradis are eldians. even the members of the ruling government are eldians

Francine's father wasn't completely without mercy however, even if he sent Danica as far away as Shinganshina, he also arranged for his bastard granddaughter to be taken in by a foster family as well as an apprenticeship to a seamstress when she reached her tenth birthday.

Danica grew up with the Beckers, knowing nothing of this, in a cheerful, lively and loud environment. She was best friend's with the Beckers middle daughter, Adele and often time helped around the family's business, the bakery. From an early age she developed a curiosity for herbs, brought on by Beckers varied recipes that included them and when she left their household for Madam Girard's, she was very happy to receive a book on botany from them. This passion slowly turned into gardening which became her hobby, as she would from there on always keep a small pot to grow mint in it (using the leaves alongside baking soda to wash her teeth or to chew to keep her breath fresh).

At Madam Girard's, a local seamstress of some renown inside and outside Shinganshina, Danica would spend most of her days sewing alongside her teacher and the other girls in her employment. Despite the long hours of work, she grew quite close to the other girls, the two she roomed with, Yulya and Gigi, especially. Whenever given free time, she would more often than not find herself in their company or visiting the Beckers. Sometimes Yulya and Gigi would join her at the Beckers and soon Yulya and the Becker's oldest son, Gregor grew close to one another much to Danica's great joy, as she had been the one to introduce them.

(rowan) i think it should be noted that just because danica is apprenticed with the seamstress, it doesn't mean she lives with her. it just means she basically has an internship, and will treat it like a job, except she is only getting paid in knowledge/experience. if this was a farm, i could understand having to live there, otherwise i find it kind of weird.

STORY: On the day the Colossal Titan appeared, Danica and Adele were out together. The frightening sight made them lock hands. When the breach occurred, Danica was blown back by a piece of falling debris. Adele was not so lucky and Danica was left to stare in shock at the disembodied arm she was holding hands with. Her best friend being a mere smear on the floor, Danica was on the verge of going into shock when she was jostled by the panicked surge of the fleeing crowd into dropping the arm and running. To this day she cannot remember how exactly she managed to escape to the boat, but when she came to all she could do was tremble and cry.

Upon arriving in Trost she tried to find anyone she knew and eventually stumbled upon Gigi who was quite a fright, having been witness to a Titan devouring Madam and crushing Yulya underfoot. Eventually Danica managed to reunite with the Beckers who asked about Adele. Claming up, all Danica could find in her power to do was shake her head much to the family's horror. Asked to leave and not come back by a grieving mother and father, Danica went off and she and the Beckers never spoke again. Returning to Gigi's side, the two of them eventually found work, Gigi with a local tailor and Danica with a doctor thanks to her knowledge of sewing and botany.

(rowan) i can understand grief making the beckers react unfairly and out of emotion, but considering they've raised danica since she was a baby and have treated her like she was their own, i'm surprised by their reaction. it makes it seem like they never loved her in the first place. if that's the case, i think their behavior towards her should change a bit, and danica should come off as a bit more neglected. since before it seemed like they loved and cared for her.

When the culling in 846 was called, both Gigi and Danica were drafted from among the refugees. Gigi unable to cope and fearful of a terrible death, hanged herself, much to Danica's horror as she was the one to find her friend.

(rowan) while i think this is an interesting idea, during the culling, only men were selected out of the civilians to take part in it. the women and children were left alone. it doesn't state that specifically, but if you go back to look at the images about the event, you don't see any women or children. just the male civilians and the members of the survey corps.

even if that wasn't the case, however, i don't see why gigi and danica would be selected. the world needs children to grow and take place of the older generation. they also need women to keep the walls populated. so why would two young girls be sent off to die, when the government knows they could be potential future mothers? it makes more sense to weed out the old, since they're going to die anyway.

this is just my take on it though! since nothing is officially stated regarding the people they selected among the civilians, you're free to do as you like.

Dr. Owen, despite his gruff and cantankerous personality, was in his own way of great help to Danica especially concerning the upcoming expedition, emphasizing that her medical knowledge no matter how limited might just be her ticket home. As it so happens he was right and Danica was placed among the soldiers of the Survey Corps, alongside their own medics when the expedition began.

Danica would be among the few civilian survivors who returned from the culling. Changed by the horrible things she had seen and the many wounded she could not save, Danica decided she would never again step a foot outside the safety of the walls and that she would not pursue a career as a doctor. Returning to Dr. Owen to take her few belongings back, she was dismayed to find out from his neighbors that the old man had died, knifed for trying to break up a fight.

Alone and without anything to her name, Danica is forced to sleep on the unsafe streets. In the days to come, unable to find employment and going hungry she begins stealing food to survive. Soon she encounters a young boy, Elia, a thief and pickpocket, who suffers of pneumonia. Like her he is a refugee forced by circumstances into such a life and his sickness makes it even harder to find honest work.

The two of them team up to survive and grow quite close to one another, Elia going as far as to teach Danica parkour so that they can make easier escapes during their heists. This partnership does not last as Elia takes a turn for the worse and dies one night. Once more alone, Danica realizes that nothing in her life has had any stability ever since Shiganshina, that the past year had been nothing but hunger, pain and suffering. Weary and tired of this lifestyle, but not knowing what to do she remains alongside her friend's body until two Garrison officers come upon them.

Elia's body is taken away and one of the men who found her, Hannes takes Danica to a pub for a hot meal, going as far as to secure a job for her there as a washer in the kitchens. The kindness shown to her, leaves Danica in tears and she decides then and there to enroll in the military the coming year and join the Garrison on her graduation.

When the time comes she signs with the 104th Cadet Corps. The intense training as well as her own continued practice of parkour, leave Danica exhausted more often than not at the end of the day. Despite her growing skills, she does not care much about grades as she is still quite set on the Garrison and makes sure to put in enough effort to pass, but not overtake anyone. More concerned to learn how to defend herself, she focuses only on improving herself without putting effort into any exams, not caring about the instructors opinions that she could do much better. This coupled with her own reserved nature, her inability to connect to her peers or relate to their worries, paint Danica as stuck up and someone who thinks she is better than everyone else. When she eventually learns how others perceive her, she is both mortified and distressed. Until that moment she had not realized how much she had changed the past two years and as the situation is something of her own doing and she has no idea how to change, Danica remains on the outside more often than not. Eventually as team building exercises are introduced, her natural abilities as a leader shine through and her relationship with her yearmates becomes friendlier, although she is still seen by most as stuck-up.

(rowan) danica seems like she doesn't care about the people around her, and she is only focused on reaching her goals. i thought she also didn't get close to people, as a way to protect herself, since up until now everyone she was close to either left her or died.

that brings me to wondering why all of a sudden, danica cares how others perceive her. since she never took time to get close to her yearmates, i find it weird that she suddenly cares about what they think of her.

unless, her becoming "mortified and distressed' has more to do with herself, and her realizing how much she has changed. and less to do with her finding out what they think of her.

this is just an observation i made when i read her backstory and etc, so i could be wrong in the assumption. either way, i hope me pointing it out helps in some way.

Graduating outside the top ten, Danica is stationed alongside the other cadets in Trost. Despite having lukewarm relations with most of her yearmates, she is buoyed with happiness, knowing that she would join the Garrison soon. This is remarked by the rest of her teammates: Vera Fermi, Leon Mikaelsson, Theo Durand, Kathrin Beckert and Felix Grey. Assigned to patrol the six of them, get to know one another a bit better but the appearance of the Colossal Titan puts a quick stop to Danica's joy and her first honest attempt in years to make friends. Her reaction isn't missed by the rest of her squad, who despite their shock and horror have an easier time, never having seen titans before and still somewhat optimistic as to their own chances. They manage to get Danica moving to HQ where they receive their orders. Despite her shaking, Danica is aware enough to order Theo Durand to requisition additional gas canisters and blades to carry as the possibility of running out is quite high. She assigns him and Felix Grey to divide the burden among themselves, placing the remaining Vera Fermi, Leon Mikaelsson and Kathrin Beckert as the scouting/vanguard of their squad, with the two logicians and herself as a medic behind.

Surprised but seeing the merit of her idea, they prepare and head to their assigned position only to find that the Titans had advanced. Realizing that the first line of defense had fallen, Danica has an outburst of nerves, cursing everything in sight. Devising a plan to separate and pick them off one by one, using her and the logicians to lure them in while the three assigned to the vanguard take them out works for a while. But as titans fall, her squad mates become overconfident and bite more than they can chew. Vera is caught and Leon and Kathrin jump to her rescue. They are promptly killed by titans and Felix and Theo try to make a break for it, overcome by fear. Their mistake costs them their lives but allows Danica to use their death to make her escape. She doesn't stop until she finds more of the 104th cadets and as they hopelessly watch the advancing enemy, Danica is filled with dread. Unable to stop wondering how much time they have until the Armored Titan appears, Mikasa's sudden arrival and lousy speech emboldens her and she joins the rest of her yearmates in making a break for HQ to resupply. (Things go more or less as they did in canon at HQ)

The Rogue Titan's leaves Danica without words, more so after Eren emergence.

Keeping a close eye for the appearance of the Armored Titan as they flee for the safety of Wall Rose, Danica makes a few realizations:

The Armored Titan was nowhere in sight.

The Colossal had appeared as suddenly as it did in Shiganshina and just as suddenly dissipated, much like the Armored.

Eren's titan form was already discomposing when he emerged.

(rowan) i thought danica didn't remember much after the fall of shinganshina? i thought she just remembered her friend dying, and then somehow making it to one of the boats and arriving at trost?

that being said, i find it weird just remembers something like the armored titan appearing, nonetheless disappearing. especially considering the chaos that was taking place. it'd be hard to keep track of something like that.

Although her mind is in a jumble and she hasn't yet come across what exactly is wrong with this picture, she asks Mikasa and Armin to allow her to stand with them when defending Eren. Despite their skepticism about her intentions and Mikasa's threat that she would die if she were to make a move for Eren, she is allowed to defend him to the panicked Garrison. Once Commander Pixis arrives on the scene and agrees to Armin's plan, the three ask Danica why exactly she stayed with them. The only thing Danica thinks to say is that "The Armored Titan hasn't appeared." This confuses them, until Armin straightens all of a sudden as of just now noticing the same thing. Both Armin and Danica come to realize that the Armored Titan might not appear at all, that those two titans had already found what they wanted.

(rowan) very confused as to why danica would want to put her life on the line for people she doesn't know. i'm surprised she even knew their names lol but it just seems very random for her to want to suddenly stand in defense of eren. what is she gaining? what is the point to it?

also, her assumptions revolving around the titans are weird. at this point, no one knows anything about the titans other than the fact they are out to end humanity without rhyme or reason. thinking of the armored titan and colossal titan as things with "motives" or "reasons" is not fitting for the current timeline, where they don't know anything. so her thinking that the two titans "have already found what they wanted" is weird, as titan's don't have thoughts. and as far as they know, the colossal and armored are just that: titans.

another thing i don't think fits, is danica putting the armored and colossal titans together as a pair. as in, if one appears, then the other one isn't far behind. titans don't work in teams or anything, so to expect that from them doesn't add up. even if they had showed together during the fall of shiganshina, that was just one instance. there isn't much of a pattern to turn it into something predicable.

Danica is left frothing at the mouth, her mind working overdrive as she suspects the Colossal and Armored might both be like Eren, shifters, and that the people who died five years ago were merely collateral, instead of their main objective.

(rowan) again, this is something no one knows about yet. in the current state the word "titan shifters" hasn't even been discovered. they all think eren is an actual titan who has adapted to fit in with the humans to kill them all. very far fetched, but again, they don't know much about titans except that they kill humans. eren having been a titan is enough to confuse and scare them.

the fact that the intelligent characters such as armin, hange, and erwin, took a bit to discover there were others like eren says enough about how unbelievable the theory is. according to these people, there is no world outside the walls. how could they even imagine something like titan shifters existing?

so, unfortunately, i don't think it'd be fitting to have your character draw that conclusion. no matter how smart they are, i doubt they're smarter than the aforementioned characters. if anything, danica needs more evidence before jumping to such a conclusion.

Burning with anger, Danica is quick to interrogate Eren about his transformation and how it came about to see if Armin's plan had a chance. As he tells what he remembers, Danica realizes that Eren's intent, his desire to kill the titans might have been a trigger and advises him to think only "I will pick the boulder and seal the breach" and only that. She is quick to point out that if he loses control of this power, even if he's never before realized he had it, things could take a turn for the worse not only for himself but Mikasa and Armin too. Eren agrees readily, but can't stop asking why she is so fired up. Danica tells them that she too comes from Shiganshina and that she too has lost everyone, to the trio's surprise as Danica has never even hinted at her past before. With a better understanding of one another, they part ways. The mission is a success from the start as Eren takes Danica's words to heart as well as minimal loss of life on the part of Eren's protectors. Not long after Eren and the rest of his team's triumphant return, the Survey Corps arrive. As the battle comes to a close and the Garrison and Survey Corps join forces in cleaning the town of Titans, Danica becomes aware that her suspicions were right and that there's more going on than what can be seen at first glance. Although she cannot point to why exactly the two titans waited so long to mount another attack, especially as the Armored could have just made a run for Wall Rose and no one would have been able to stop him, Danica realizes that she wants answers. Knowing that if she joins the Garisson she might not ever find out why they attacked, why so many had to die (why did she have to suffer so much), she tears up and laughs bitterly knowing that her only option is the Survey Corps if she plans to go ahead with finding answers. Even as she shakes with fear, a much bigger part of her burns for knowledge.

(The rest would be spoilers when I get to writing as it steadily turns AU, since Danica manages to save some people (Mike [by agreeing to tell Zeke everything about the VME in exchange for their lives], Gelger, Nanaba [by being there on orders to inform them about the Beast Titan, and being able to help, also by realizing that Henning and Lynne's blades and canisters might still be of use after Gelger gets injured and she and Nanaba run out]) and even befriend them. Her past also comes under scrutiny in the Uprising Arc and that is when she learns about her parents.)

(rowan) i highly doubt zeke will spare mike if danica tells him about the 3dmg. if anything, i could see him killing them both/leaving them for dead right after getting the information. the only way to spare mike, is to not let zeke get a hold of him at all lol

as for her past, i have to ask, will it really change anything? if she discovers her birthright, what will it mean to her? you said her family is a noble one, but why are they so important? what is it exactly that they do? i feel like, to have such a background, it will have to mean and result in something important. otherwise, it would have just been better to make her a random orphan in shiganshina, rather than a bastard noble child.

STATS Combat: 7/10 Initiative: 7/10 Wits: 9/10 Teamwork: 7/10 Agility: 10/10

(rowan) i think some of the stats are bit high considering the information i was given. i would make initiative, a six, considering so far i've seen her having to receive a "push" before she does anything.

teamwork, is also a little high, considering her standoffish attitude. i would make it a six.

A/N: I'm sorry for giving you more work, but I've had this idea stuck inside my head for a while now and I really need some advice if the OC is worth actually writing in the story. I've tried to give her constant character development and a believable reason for joining the Survey Corps and I don't know how much of my ideas come across since English isn't my first language and there might be some spelling mistakes. I've also added the characters I would like to save and possible explanations about how she goes about them, but I'm a bit unsure if Mike's is even possible, because while Zeke does seem practical, he's also kinda ruthless.

(rowan) no problem at all! thank you for submitting this to us, and i hope i was at least a little bit of help.

as always, i like to remind everyone that you don't have to listen to my critiques, but they are honest thoughts and observations i made. and i also say them with your best interests in mind! :)

#submission

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writeblrfantasy · 3 years

Text

a king and his knight | part 3

“i don’t even know your name,” the prince said, his face filling with color. “i’m so sorry, i wasn’t even thinking to ask.”

the knight was disappointed that his worst fears were confirmed, the prince really had no idea who he was, but it more than made up for it when he told the prince and the prince said his name with a smile, soft vowels and gentle tone. he introduced himself by his first name, which the prince already knew, of course, but felt odd calling him by. the prince insisted, however.

every day the knight rode a bit out, searching for signs of the battle and stopping when he heard it, the sounds lesser every day. three days passed before the knight deemed it safe enough to return. the ride back was slow and tense. neither knew what awaited them. the knight couldn’t even enjoy the prince’s arms around his waist.

the castle finally came into view, along with a sea of red on the ground. bodies everywhere. the knight had expected nothing less, but the prince let out a small gasp. it took a moment for the knight to realize he wasn’t looking the same way. he was looking east, where two familiar bodies lay. the knight started to say something, but what could you say? he wanted to shelter the prince from this pain, but he didn’t know how to make this any easier. he’d had fears this might happen himself.

he’d failed in his duty to protect the king and crown prince or die trying, but he didn’t feel like he’d failed anything.

the prince jumped off the horse before the knight had even pulled it to a stop, hitting the ground hard and running over to the bodies. the knight quickly dismounted and followed him, hand on his sword, looking around for anyone that might be alive, though he doubted anyone was. everything was eerily quiet.

the prince wasn’t crying. he didn’t appear upset. he didn’t look like anything. he was kneeling beside the bodies, frowning. he was clutching his brother’s bloody hand. his lips moved in prayer. the knight knelt across from him, closing his eyes and praying.

“they didn’t even say goodbye to me,” the prince said, his voice hollow and blank. “they didn’t even tell me there was an attack, i overheard some knights talking about it. they cast me aside for so many years, from the day my brother began his training as crown prince. my mother died having me. my father couldn’t give me a glance. so why do i feel this way?”

the knight still had his father and sister miles and miles away in a small village, but he hadn’t seen them in years, since he’d joined the knighthood. the memory of his mother’s loss with illness a decade before still made his chest seize up. “because they’re your family. because they were all you had.”

the prince stared at the bodies for a long moment more, then stood. the knight heard voices and nearly drew his sword, but it was the quiet talk of townspeople from the town down the hill from the castle. they were looking over the carnage, probably some of them mourning lost brothers or sons. every knight had been slaughtered, but every enemy soldier lay dead, too.

“whatever you want to do...i’ll take you wherever you want to go now,” said the knight. he watched villagers and castle residents slowly approach the prince, most of whom had heard little of him and seen him maybe once. still, they looked at him with curiosity, desperation, silent pleas in their eyes.

the prince looked at them, and the knight saw the moment he made his mind up.

“no, i will stay here,” said the prince. “they need a new king. someone who can rebuild this. it’s the logical thing. i was born to be insurance, after all.”

the knight nodded, tight lipped.

and that was how the prince became king.

the king did indeed rebuild. he made a treaty with the south to discourage more war, he encouraged men from the village and from villages all in the kingdom to repopulate the knighthood, and the knight gained new brothers to teach and train. he fell into the role of commander without meaning to, since there was no one else who could. he liked his job and was good at it, but was he was still most devoted to was the king, who now wore a golden crown on top of head nd sat in a grand throne.

he always looked a little flustered when someone addressed him as majesty, at the constant attention and admiration he got, how eager people were to hear his opinions. he’d never had that sort of attention before, which made the knight ten kinds of mad, especially since he wasn’t getting to bestow the kind of attention he wanted to. but that was just a silly thought. he spent more time in the king’s company now than he ever had before the slaughter, bringing him reports of how the knights were doing, reports of scouts around the area. the king always thanked him kindly and appreciated his work, and many dubbed him the king’s right hand man, senior knight.

the knight was more than grateful for the time he did get to spend with the king now, but it was not enough. he wanted so much more than this, if anything, he’d fallen more in love with the king now that they’d grown closer.

the king did make him his personal knight and personal guardian, which was what the knight had always wanted, even if the responsibility made his stomach heavy with nerves at times. it was more than the daydream it’d once been. he would feel very different if the king died under his oath than he had when the last king died.

he continued to bring the king gifts, made easier since he didn’t have to pretend to read in the library in order to figure out what the king might be wanting, he could worm answers out of the king with questions like did anything cause you difficulty today or is there anything else you require? this made it riskier since there was a higher chance the king would figure out who it was, if he only brought these things up to the knight, so the knight made sure to wait for the king’s wishes to become fairly common knowledge.

one day the knight again rose late after working on a gift all night, perhaps his favorite one yet: a beautiful set of red cushions made from the softest fabrics he could find in town, since the king always complained about the hard, unforgiving seat of his throne. he’d joked that his father must’ve grown ill of back pain.

sewing them himself had been no easy feat, as he’d barely remembered his mother’s lessons from childhood, but after sheepishly asking the seamstress, he’d gotten there in the end. they were as good as they were going to get, so he put them in a wide box and made a new note, a bold, the color of these, blood red, represents the blood i would spill for you, others’, my own, whatever it would take to keep your own blood from being shed. he knew it was likely that only a knight would write such a thing, but perhaps he wanted the king to realize who it was who’d been sending him gifts over the past few years. the knight would be kindly rejected, but maybe he’d be able to move on. maybe.

he still remembered vividly that morning when he’d caught the red on the king’s face, his soft smile as he admired the straps, and couldn’t help himself from waiting around the corner for the king to open his door. the king had chosen not to move rooms after his ascension, he said he liked his rooms just fine. the knight had now been in them and seen all of his gifts displayed and admired by the king, on shelves and bookcases.

the king opened the door and picked up the box, smiling at the note. he didn’t blush, but he held the cushions with shallow breaths, like they were precious jewels. he closed his eyes and kissed one of them gently, making the knight’s heart clench. he didn’t know how he could want the king any more, but he did, and the desire to engulf the king in his arms and give him as tender a kiss as the king had just given that pillow had never been stronger. he recalled the weight of the king on his chest and felt tears prick his eyes.

he sniffled, forgetting where he was, thinking it’d be quiet, and instead caught the king’s eye around the corner. the two stared at each other, still and silent, and the knight watched the king’s eyes dart from the cushions to the note to the knight and back again. the knight watched the moment he figured it out, eyes widening, mouth opening.

the knight ran.

he didn’t show up to his evening report with the king, he was too scared to leave his quarters and seek dinner in case the king was in the dining hall. he sat on his bed, head in his hands, mind refusing to quiet down, wondering why he’d ever thought it’d be a good idea to have the king know who was sending the gifts.

when his hunger and thirst finally won out, the knight opened the door and found a folded piece of paper on the floor. his hands were shaking as he picked it up. now the king was mocking him before he let him go, was he?

the letter was in perfect courtly script.

my dear knight, i know a simple letter is nothing compared to all the wonderful gifts you have given me, but if you would be willing to have it, you are welcome to the gift of my heart. i realized i never thanked you properly for saving my life that day. between that and everything else, you have given me so much more than that. thank you.

the knight blinked, but the words were still there. when he looked up, the king was leaning against the corner of the wall in his sky blue coat, white fur, gold crown, and the most beautiful smile he’d ever worn. it reached more than just the lovely curve of his mouth, his eyes, his posture.

“you can’t be serious,” the knight said.

“i am, i mean it,” the king said. “i’ve suspected for a while it was you. the gifts were too well tailored to me, the notes too personal, like i knew you. you knew me.”

“you didn’t know me before we left together. you didn’t know my name, you’d never even seen me.”

“i knew your face. i had seen you. those shelves in the library aren’t solid, they have slits. i always wondered about you, a fellow avid reader.” the king was still smiling in an enticing, intoxicating way. “but i bet you weren’t reading at all, were you? you were fishing for ideas.”

the knight swallowed. “please tell me you’re not joking. that you’re not just pulling my leg.”

the king pushed off the wall and approached him. the knight, struck with realization only a moment before it happened, could only stand there as the king reached up on his tiptoes to curl his fingers into the knight’s hair and pull him down enough to kiss. the knight was too shocked to react, but the movement of the king’s mouth grew fainter, more hesitant, and he started to pull back when the knight finally shocked himself into movement and wrapped his arms around the king’s waist, pulling him closer and kissing him with years of pent up passion.

they broke apart for breath, but only an inch or two. “i am not pulling your leg,” the king said, and the knight was trying to be a gentleman, but his eyes were glued to the king’s pink lips, “i find you unreasonably attractive and wonderfully kind and gentle and caring and sweet and gentlemanly, trustworthy and strong, easily lovable, i could go on and on and on. please tell me, because i need to know, that you meant all of those gifts, although i don’t know how someone could spend so much time on those and not mean it.”

in answer, the knight knelt at the feet of his king, the man he loved most in the world, the man he would die for without hesitation. he took the king’s soft, smooth, freezing hand in one of his and looked up at him through his lashes. “i meant every gift, every note, with every ounce of my heart. i have loved you for years. i think you are gorgeous and kind and fair and underappreciated. i would consider it no greater honor than to serve you for the rest of my life. i will do whatever i must to give you anything and everything you want. i am hopelessly devoted to you. i always have been.”

the king’s breath caught and he went beet red, which made the knight’s knees weak. with what restraint he had left, he kissed the back of the king’s hand gently, still looking up at him through his lashes. the king’s breath caught again and he pulled him up by that hand, and jumped into a hug that squeezed him tightly. the knight felt tears prick his eyes again as the king whispered, “i love you,” with his arms crossed tightly around the knight’s neck, his head resting on his shoulder, his legs wrapped around the knight’s waist. the knight shifted his hands under the king’s thighs and kissed the side of his neck, simply unable to believe that the man he’d loved for years was clinging to him and hugging him like he’d die if he let go.

“i love you too,” the knight said, embarrassed of how shaky his voice was. the king pulled his head back to give the knight a sweet, heavenly kiss again. the knight was sure he’d gone to heaven. this was the best thing he’d ever had. there was nothing better than the sweet press of the king’s mouth against his, the one warm part of him. he curled his fingers into the knight’s hair again, and he kept letting out little happy noises that made the knight want to drag more of them out of him over and over again.

the knight’s strength gave out and he gently set the king down, leaning down to plant kisses all over his face, unwilling to let him go for a second now that he knew he was allowed. the king giggled and pulled him closer, and the knight felt like his heart would burst again as he watched the king’s face turned red. he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face long enough to kiss the king again.

the knight slept in the king’s bed that night, wrapped around him in the way he’d dreamed of for years. he had all he’d ever wanted, he got to protect the king, shower him in kisses and hold him close, tell him that he was beautiful and breathtaking and cute and wonderful and talented. “you’re so cold, but i can warm you up,” he whispered in the king’s ear, making him go red again.

the king turned to seemingly kiss his neck, then whispered, “you’re hot.”

when the knight spluttered and gasped, the king said, “what? like you said, you warm me up. i never want to leave your arms.”

the knight’s mouth hung open, unable to form words. the king smiled and kissed him.

the knight remained as the king’s right hand from that day onward, his guardian, his loyal servant, but also his lover. he refused to give up his jobs and responsibilities to rule with the king no matter how many times he asked. “i do not wish to rule over a kingdom. all i wish is to serve you.”

and he did, and the king continued to love him just as deeply and passionately as he had since the knight had saved him. the knight continued to bring him gifts and little love notes in script as terrible as always, and was always there to see the king’s blush and smile. only these times, he was rewarded with a kiss. their bond was unbreakable, their love never-ending.

and that is the story of the king and his knight.

these two can have a ridiculous amount of cuddling and kissing. as a treat

thank you all so much for reading, this was an absolute dream to write and i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did <3 i’ll definitely be posting more gay romance shorts in the near future, if you’re interested in those, i might start a taglist for it! let me know if you’d like to be on it!

#writing #writeblr #fantasy writeblr #fantasy writing #lgbt fantasy #lgbt writing #short story #writing short #my writing #lila's short stories

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

A Thousand Years...

Chapter 6

Heart beats fast. Colors and promises. How to be brave. How can I love when I’m afraid to fall. But watching you stand alone. All of my doubt suddenly goes away…..

Summary: A soulmate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master. – Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

A new town, a new job, and a new life, one that you didn’t even expect……

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Gino x Reader, Steve Carlson x Reader

Word Count: 1921

Warnings will include… Smut, language, unrequited/ requited love, cheating, and possibly more. This is brand new, so I will add to it as I know. Chapters will have warnings of their own if need be….

A/N: So my little cousin was watching breaking dawn in the living room, and I was folding clothes in the guest room… When the credits rolled and this song started, this fic hit me right in the face… I couldn’t escape it.

Fic Based on the Song A Thousand Years, by Christina Perri

Missed it so far or just want more in general? Check out my masterlist!!

*****MASTERLIST*****

****SERIES MASTERLIST*****

Two weeks later

It had literally been the longest two weeks of your life. It took hours after Jensen walked out of your door that day before you could pick yourself up off the floor, and by the time you did, you were slap exhausted. There was just nothing left in you. You'd cried it all out. You'd never been so lost. Never been so hurt. You couldn't wrap your mind around the gaping hole in your chest.

You'd heard about grief having gravity, that it pulled you down until there was just nothing left. You'd never understood that before, but you did now. You thought you'd felt loss when you were left standing at the altar. You thought you felt loss when you packed your car and drove away from everything that you'd ever know. You were wrong, so very wrong.

You didn't go to work for three days after, mostly because it took you that long to get up the guts to make your way downstairs to even look at the car he'd given you.

When you called in to work Jensen's lawyer showed up at your house to do the paperwork for you. That was tough in and of itself. You didn't know that man from Adam, but you didn't miss the way he looked at you, like he pitied you, like you were the side bitch Jensen was trying to pay off or the charity case that Jensen had picked up off the side of the road somewhere.

Your brother and sister-in-law couldn't understand why you were so down. They didn't know the whole story. You told them a short form of how Jensen was there when your car was taken away, he felt bad, so he'd brought you this one. They thought you should be over the moon, but your poor broken heart just couldn't fake it. It was just too shattered.

Your nights were filled for the first week with dreams of that hurt look on Jensen's face before he walked out of your apartment door. It was haunting you.

When you finally did go back to work and made your way down to the parking lot you cried from the point you laid eyes on your new wheels, to the point that you pulled into the parking lot of the brewery. Then you had to sit out in the parking lot for five minutes composing yourself before you could even walk in, using eye drops like a crackhead to hide the redness in your eyes so that no one would know that you'd been crying for almost four days straight.

Thankfully Jensen didn't show up to work that day, or the rest of that week, because you didn't know if you could handle it if he did.

The day he did show up to work he came in like he did every other time he'd been there, speaking to everyone, smiling, laughing, being his usual friendly self... To everyone except you. It didn't go unseen by Gino, who pulled you to the side later that day and asked you what happened between you and Jensen. You blew him off, telling him it was nothing, and he was looking into things that weren’t there.

You wondered how long he'd actually believe that.

You spent your lunch break hiding out in your car, the car that you honestly hated because it reminded you of the day you turned down the one thing you wanted more than you wanted oxygen, but you couldn't safely cry anywhere else without being caught. Every time he sidestepped you to wait on a customer, or reached around you like you weren't there to grab something instead of acknowledging that you were standing there and could have handed it to him, it was like he was twisting the knife that had been stabbed in your chest that day. The pain was almost enough to make you hit your knees.

You didn't know why you expected him to treat you any other way. You basically accused him of trying to use you as a side fuck. What did you expect? Him to fall at your feet, begging you to forgive him, fuck him, go on a date with him? He was doing what you wanted, staying away from you.

That is what you wanted...right?

Today had been worse than usual for you. For some reason today was just hard. A regular customer asked you why you were losing weight. You didn't even notice that you had lost weight. Then Jensen all but ran into you when you were coming out of the cooler with a fresh keg on the dolly, and you fell flat of your ass.

It was the first time he'd looked directly at you in two weeks. He didn't say anything, just blinked, then turned and stalked out of the warehouse. Steve came over to help you get back up, and make sure you were okay, trying to apologize for his friend's rude behavior.

You were standing against the counter right now, wiping it down, trying to do all you could not to cry like a little baby because of him. Even though you could feel the tears burning just under the surface, ready to make their way down your face as soon as you made it somewhere that wasn't around a ton of people around.

"Hey, Y/N I have a huge favor to ask you. Like I'll owe you forever and ever and you will be my most favorite person in the whole entire universe for life," Gino said, suddenly flopping down at one of the barstools in front of you, and momentarily snapping you out of your trance.

"Depends, you're really scaring me right now," you tell him, your voice laced with mock sarcasm.

"We have a charity event that the brewery is hosting tomorrow, and I really need you to come and help work it even though it’s your day off," Gino said in a rush like he was trying to get the question out before you could tell him no. "PLEASE!! I'll get on my knees if I have to!"

You closed your eyes for a moment and considered making Gino beg just so you could get a picture for later blackmail, but alas, you didn't have the time to make a decision before Jensen burst through the door of the office that you didn’t even know he was in, brushing past Gino and yourself with enough force to make you stagger backwards and Gino to jump out of the barstool.

"She will do it if she wants to keep this job. It wasn't a request," he barked before slamming the door, leaving you alone with Gino as Steve came to sit down opposite of you at the bar, eyeing his friend with an annoyed look as he walked briskly to his truck.

Apparently it was Jensen’s Idea that you work the charity event. Why didn’t he just come and ask you to do it himself?

The tears you had been holding back weld up again. Jensen had never spoken to you, or about you with that tone, and you didn't know how to take it. Did he completely hate you now? Had you fooled yourself into thinking you were anything more than a side fuck to him? Were you really that diluted?

"Hey, don't let that get to you. I don't know what the fuck his problem is, but I'm the one who hires and fires out here, and you're not going anywhere anytime soon," Gino said, reaching across the bar and patting you on the hand before walking around to where you were standing to take the empty kegs to the back.

"There will also be a pretty hefty bonus in your paycheck for doing this to make it worth you wild," he yelled before disappearing into the door, leaving you with Steve, who looked at you and gave you an apologetic smile.

"Looks like Gino doesn't know yet," Steve said as he watched you poor his usual in a glass before sliding it to him across the bar to him.

"Gino doesn't know what yet?" you asked with narrow eyes.

Steve had always been friendly enough when you saw him around the brewery, but this was the most he'd ever talked to you directly, especially when no one else was around.

"Danneel and Jensen separated this morning," he said, taking a swig of his beer, and watching you closely. "They're getting a divorce."

You stood there for a moment dumbfounded, unable to move. You just looked at him like he’d grown another head.

"Why? Why are they getting a divorce?" you asked him.

Steve shrugged his shoulders his gaze locked on yours as if he was waiting on you to spill whatever it was that was going on between Jensen and yourself. “No clue. There has been something going on there for a while now. They've been distant, nothing like they used to be. I don't think anything serious has happened because he did tell me that they would continue to co-parent and run this place together, so it must not have been anything too unforgiving. He's been really off for about two weeks." Steve finished his drink and stood, throwing his jacket back over his shoulders.

"I can tell you this much what you saw just now, that's not Jensen. I've known him for over twenty years. What you saw just now was stress. He will be here at the charity event alone, Danneel won't be attending, and from what I'm told there will be a young band here. All proceeds from the event will be going to a children's hospital here in Austin, so it's for a good cause. You won't even have to do that much, just serve a few drinks. It's already catered by some of the local places around here, helps them get their name out. So just try and enjoy it. I'll be there too. Jensen will be here as well, Gino, and a think Vickie, so it's not like you will be alone. I'll see you here tomorrow. Try not to stress over it too much okay?” Steve grabbed his keys off the counter and turned to leave. Stopping just shy of the door, turning around to face you again.

"Oh and Y/N, don't be so hard on Jensen, you might be surprised what you would see there if you take some of those walls down you got built up around yourself."

With that, he was out the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Jensen's words rang loudly in your head as you got the broom and started to sweep the front. "You don't know as much as you think you do Y/N."

It made you wonder how much you didn't know, and if you made a horrible mistake by pushing Jensen away. What if he was there because he needed you? You didn't know what was going on at home, and you shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions as to his real intentions.

Gino was already packing the decorations out of the storage room, different flower arrangements, and things that would be placed on the tables for the event. It was going to be a long night that was for you.

The realization that you had possibly made a big mistake was playing over and over in your head like a broken record. What if you messed up the one chance you had with the one person in the world that made you feel the way you felt every time he walked into a room, all because of fear?

You were afraid to fall again. You could see it now plain as day. You were afraid. A coward.

It was only a question now of whether or not it was too late. You wished you could go back in time and take back everything that you said to Jensen that morning in your apartment. You'd never regretted anything in your whole life more than you did that morning.

Steves words ran loud in your ears as you climbed into bed for yet another sleepless night that night. "Don't be so hard on Jensen, you might be surprised what you will see there if you take some of those walls down you got built up around yourself."

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles smut #jensen x you #jensen x reader #jensen ackles series #SPN fanfiction #SPN Fanfic #SPN #dean wichester #jawritter #a thousand years

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sufferingsoup · 4 years

Text

More Pirate AU writing, but feat. ANGST this time around BOIS. She still very soft and kinda sappy tho ngl lol. I can’t help myself. Anyway, hi, it’s me, still obsessed with this AU. Hope you enjoy this! Also it’s unedited bc I’m lazy and barely want to post it as is lmao, so sorry about any mistakes! Check out more of this beautiful awesome amazing fantastic showstopping terrific gorgeous CRISP au @thenerdyalchemist

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The Truth

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So many months.

It had been so many months since they had stopped sending their letters. So many months of desperate searching anywhere and everywhere. So many months of confusion and anger and sadness. And yet, not a single trace of Tiadrin or Lain had been found.

Runaan had started shutting down a couple months ago. Ethari tried his best to keep him hopeful, he couldn’t bear to see him in such a pitiful state, but the search was seeming increasingly useless every added day that nothing turned up. It truly seemed as though they had simply dropped off the face of the planet, gone for good. But that was hard. Tiadrin and Lain were nothing short of family to them, especially Runaan. They had been inseparable growing up, even through the loss of their adoptive father and Runaan’s sudden succession to the pirate throne. Tiadrin and Lain had stuck by him through everything, and Runaan had stuck by them in return. And that love extended to Ethari as well.

Ethari could still remember the short-lived terror, followed by the massive wave of relief and happiness when Tiadrin dumped the bucket of water on him, revealing his deepest, darkest secret to them. They had been confused and a bit shocked at first, no doubt, but it didn’t take either of them long to start cracking jokes and messing about like normal. Their opinions of Ethari hadn’t changed at all, and they had accepted him fully for what he was.

He could still feel Lain’s comforting touch and hear his relaxing jokes and stories as he gave Ethari all of his necessary tattoos in one sitting. It was a rough day, but they had to get them all done in time for the wedding, and Ethari could think of no better person to give him these markings but Lain. He had a steady hand, a good eye for design, and an overwhelming amount of excitement for his best friends and their big day. He made sure Ethari wasn’t in more pain than was absolutely necessary, and did his best to keep his spirits up and nerves down in light of all the big life changes coming his way.

He could still hear the joyous sobbing as little Rayla was introduced to the world for the first time. Runaan had been clutching Tiadrin’s hand and aggressively encouraging her, just what she needed, and Ethari had been holding a trembling, anxiety-ridden Lain on the other side of the bed, trying to keep him as calm as possible. Lain, Tiadrin, and Ethari all broke down crying the second they saw her. Even Runaan’s eyes glistened with tears he stubbornly fought back, but he too broke down the second Tiadrin gently shoved the baby into his arms. All four of them welcomed a beautiful daughter into their hearts that day, and they all felt closer with each other than ever before.

But they were gone now.

Their big, happy family was torn apart, and nobody had any idea how it happened.

Runaan was taking it particularly hard. They had been siblings to him, and now he was left with their daughter and no explanation for her as to their disappearance. He was shutting himself out from everyone, even Ethari, in a desperate attempt to maintain some kind of control. He would be up all hours of the night, searching through his maps and notes and books in hopes of finding even the tiniest clue. He was exhausted and sad and angry and terrified all at once, but he would not allow Ethari - much less anyone else - to help him. He would snap at the crew over the tiniest of annoyances, and gods forbid any townsfolk get in his way when they were docked; if Runaan hadn’t been intimidating before, he was absolutely terrifying now. He would make mistakes and drops things when he was especially upset, which only made him all the more angry. He had given up taking care of himself almost entirely. His hair was always a frazzled mess, he would forget to eat until Ethari all but forced him to, and the bags under his eyes seemed to be carrying the weight of the world within them.

Ethari sighed heavily, clutching the tiny baby in his arms protectively as he swung lightly in his and Runaan’s hammock. Runaan was holding a meeting of sorts, calling all the pirate captains he could to see if anyone had found anything, and to try to come up with a new plan. Ethari scrunched his eyes shut tightly for a moment, shaking his head before staring back up at the ceiling.

/It’s useless, they aren’t gonna have anything new.../

His heart ached. Of course he wanted to find them, or at least an explanation, but it had been a year. If nothing had turned up before, it was extremely unlikely anything would turn up now. He just wanted Runaan to drop it. The constant searching was worthless, and it was doing nothing good for his physical or mental state. He just wanted to pull Runaan into his arms and hold him while he cried. He just wanted to help him come to terms with the death of their beloved friends. He just wanted Runaan to take little Rayla in his arms and acknowledge her as their new daughter. He needed to move on from this, but he refused to do so.

Ethari dragged a tired hand over his face before looking down at the peacefully resting baby in his arms. She stared back up at him with big, bright, lilac eyes, burbling at him. He offered her a sad smile and offered a finger to her. She grasped it firmly with her tiny hands and examined it quizzically for a moment before shoving it into her mouth. Ethari chuckled softly and allowed her to suckle on the tip of his finger for a moment before taking it away. He mussed up her soft tufts of hair as she watched him.

“Oh, Rayla, what’re we gonna do?” He asked her quietly.

She just stared back at him, enthralled by his deep, soothing voice.

“He’s killing himself over this. I don’t know how to get through to him this time, he won’t listen to me no matter what I say.” He sighed.

She prattled at him in response.

“Yeah? You should talk some of that sense into him.” He replied.

Rayla released a loud squawk and a giggle.

He chuckled and nuzzled their noses together gently, allowing her to tangle her tiny fingers in his ratty white hair and tug as she liked.

“You always know just what to say.” He sighed, smiling sadly as he watched her play with his soft, uneven locks.

The bedroom door slamming open told him Runaan was back. He snapped his gaze towards the entrance as his husband stomped into the room with steam billowing out of his ears. He threw his captain’s hat on the floor and chucked off his cloak. Ethari sighed softly and rolled out of the hammock, approaching him cautiously. Rayla watched Runaan intensely as they drew nearer.

“Nothing?” Ethari asked. Runaan rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Don’t start.” He snapped, heading straight for his desk without sparing him a glance.

“I wasn’t.” Ethari stated, allowing his mild annoyance at Runaan’s dismissal to show on his face. He stared at his husband’s back as he leaned over his desk, “I don’t live and breathe just to hassle you, you know.”

Runaan sighed deeply, his shoulders tensing for a moment before he stood up straight and turned around, staring at the floor.

“Right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take this out on you.” He admitted, his voice gentler this time.

He walked back up to Ethari and took his waist with one hand, cupping his cheek softly with the other and pressing their foreheads together. Rayla stared up at them quietly from between their chests.

“Nobody has found anything, and...” he cut himself off, his grip on Ethari tightening a bit as his face scrunched up in frustration.

Ethari gave him a gentle kiss, wrapping a comforting hand around the back of his neck. Runaan melted into his touch, but he was still tense. Ethari sighed and pulled back a bit, sliding his hand up to rest along Runaan’s jaw. He tilted his face up towards his own with his palm and fiddled with Runaan’s earrings with his fingers, examining his tired face. Runaan looked back into Ethari’s eyes, his walls up and guarding his emotions, but Ethari was already behind those walls with them. He was sad and angry and deep in denial. Ethari gave Runaan a meaningful peck on the tip of his nose before tangling his hand into Runaan’s messy hair and pulling it out of its bun. It unraveled and fell to its full, glorious length, but it was still quite messy.

“C’mon, let’s get you straightened out. This is no way for the great pirate king to look” he said softly, taking Runaan’s hand and tugging him towards their hammock. Runaan resisted, sighing heavily and trying to shake his hand away.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t have time. I need to look over-“

“No, you don’t.” Ethari gripped his hand firmly and gave him a stern look that softened after a moment, “You’ve looked over every piece of paper on this ship and all the others’ about a thousand times each now. I can’t even read that well and I could probably recite each one to you.”

“But I /must/ have missed something! I just need to-“

“No, you don’t. My shade, you have poured every second of your life into this, every ounce of your energy, for the past year. There is nothing you could have possibly missed.”

“But-“

“Come.”

“Ethari...”

“Come here.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, having the same silent battle they had had so many times over the past year. Runaan heaved a heavy sigh and looked down.

“Just once more, then you can have me for the night.” He bargained, hoping his usual excuse would work. Ethari stood his ground this time.

“It’s always ‘just once more,’ isn’t it? Then it’s all night and all of the next day and then you’re off on another false lead the next.”

Runaan remained silent, staring at the floor, his hand lifeless in Ethari’s grasp. Ethari stepped towards him again, pushing Rayla gently into his arms. Runaan looked away and tried to step back, but Ethari wouldn’t allow him to run again.

“You haven’t held her in weeks.” He stated.

“I shouldn’t. Not like this.”

“Why? Would you hurt her?”

“No! I would never!”

“Then take her.”

“I can’t.” Runaan hesitated.

“You can. You will.” Ethari insisted.

“I shouldn’t.”

“She is your daughter.”

Runaan stared into Ethari’s serious eyes incredulously. Ethari knew how Runaan felt about becoming Rayla’s father. He loved her with all his heart, and he promised them he would take care of her if anything happened. But he didn’t feel like he deserved it, didn’t think he could be a proper parent. He didn’t want to take Lain or Tiadrin’s place in Rayla’s heart. He didn’t want to accept that this was their new reality. A tiny voice from between them broke their silent argument.

“Wuni!”

They both looked down at the baby in Ethari’s arm. Rayla’s big eyes were set on Runaan’s, and her tiny hands were reaching out towards him desperately. She was squirming insistently, trying to get closer to him. Runaan teared up, his lower lip trembling ever-so-slightly, and Ethari caressed his cheek gently.

“She’s missed you.” He said softly, pushing her closer to him. As soon as she could reach, she grabbed at one of the long, loose locks of bright white hair hanging over his shoulder. “Take her, and let me take you. We all need this.”

Finally, Rayla had won. Runaan took her gently into his arms, nodding hesitantly.

“Okay.” He breathed.

Ethari pulled him into their bedroom, sitting him down in their hammock while he gathered up a brush and some ribbons. He eased himself into the hammock behind Runaan and began to gently work the knots out of his hair. He brushed softly for a long time, Runaan relaxing back into Ethari’s lap as he played quietly with Rayla. He made sure to massage Runaan’s scalp a bit with every stroke, deeply enjoying the feeling of running his hands through his husband’s soft hair for the first time in weeks. He left the piece Rayla had claimed for later, as she seemed to be enjoying styling it herself with her mouth.

“So, what did you all decide?” He asked after a while. Runaan sighed and shook his head. Ethari could feel him tensing up again.

“Nothing. They want me to call it off. Damned cowards.” He spat.

Rayla protested by swinging her fists a bit at his sudden intensity, yanking at his hair. He pulled back a bit, but he was still tense.

“You don’t want to?” Ethari questioned.

“Why on Earth would I do that?”

“Because it’s been a year, and you haven’t found anything.”

“But we could!”

“After a year of nothing?”

Runaan sighed frustratedly.

“Listen, I understand that the chances are low, but we can’t just give up on them!”

“It isn’t giving up if you tried your best.”

“How? We’d be quitting without finding a single thing just because we’re tired.”

“After a full year of looking in every corner of the world trying to find anything and coming up empty handed every time.” Ethari sighed as he laid down the brush and began to weave his hair into a simple braid, leaving Rayla’s piece and a matching one on the other side of his face hanging over Runaan’s shoulders, “You can’t just keep looking for the rest of your life, love. You’re already killing yourself over this, it isn’t healthy.

“Trust me, I know how you feel, my shade. I miss them, too. I want an answer as much as you do. I want to be able to tell Rayla what actually happened to them, better yet to actually see them again. I love them, and you love them, but at some point you have to let this go.”

“But what if they’re still out there, Ethari? What if we’re just overlooking some tiny detail and all it would take is just once more search? How can I just stop when we could find something tomorrow?”

“How do you know you’ll ever find anything? When will it be enough? Do you want your entire life to be dedicated to finding them again?” Ethari questioned.

Runaan stayed silent, looking down at little Rayla and lightly shaking the long, thin finger she was gripping. Ethari tied off the first section of the braid with a dark green ribbon and wrapped his arms tightly around Runaan’s waist, pulling his back flush against his chest. He rested his chin on Runaan’s shoulder and gazed down at the baby in his husband’s strong arms.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but we’re her parents now.” He muttered against Runaan’s ear, “We need to take care of her. We need to be there for her, and you can’t do that if you’re wasting yourself away trying to find them. I don’t want her to lose another parent. I don’t want to raise her alone, Runaan.”

“I don’t want that either.” Runaan whispered, tears welling up in his eyes again as he leaned into Ethari’s touch, both to reassure his husband, and to comfort himself.

“Then don’t make me.” Ethari pleaded.

Runaan laid his head back against Ethari’s strong shoulder, staring up hopelessly at the ceiling.

“Just one last search. Just in case.” He offered half-heartedly. Ethari shook his head softly and pressed a sad kiss to Runaan’s neck.

“You know that won’t be it if you do.”

Runaan released a single, strained sob. Ethari felt the tears dripping onto his shoulder and held him a little tighter, his own eyes threatening to release the floodgates as well. Runaan turned his head towards Ethari’s, burying his face in his neck as Ethari gently rubbed his stomach.

“I know. I don’t like it either.” Ethari sniffed.

“I just want them to come back.” Runaan whimpered.

“I do too.” Ethari sobbed, crying with his husband.

They stayed this way for a long time, crying together in their hammock as Runaan finally saw the truth. Rayla watched them silently for a while, confused.

“Wuni? Dari? Oh no.” She whimpered, eyes pooling with tears. Runaan and Ethari looked down at her and shook their heads in unison.

“No, Rayla, it’s okay! We’re okay, little shadow.” Ethari cooed, wiping away his tears quickly and offering her a sad smile and a reassuring finger, which she happily grasped with one hand after letting go of some of Runaan’s hair. Runaan stroked her cheek softly, holding her a little tighter.

“We’ve got you, Rayla. We’re never leaving you.”

And that was the truth.

#long post #tdp #tdp pirate au #tdp ethari #tdp runaan #writing #ruthari #elf husbands #shit I’m in love with this AU #SOMEONE HELP ME IM DROWNING IN CONTENT #my writing

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lauras-collection · 5 years

Text

More Than I Know [Part 7]

Tom Holland x female reader

Masterlist

Summary: You finally tell Tom what happened with Joe, your sister get’s married and dancing with Tom turns out to be more than just dancing.

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: fluff, reader talking about somewhat of a toxic relationship? nothing else I think (let me know if there is anything in there that I should add)

A/N: Remember when I said that I was going to split the wedding into two parts? Yeah, those turned into three :D Was the story of Joe inspired by real-life events that happened to me? Maybe (read: yes)

I’ve never been to a wedding so I kinda guessed the whole thing. I hope you like it anyways!

I hope you enjoy!

The wedding was taking place in the so-called Great Room of the castle which was beautifully decorated for the occasion, much like the dining room from last night, everything in white and gold. As you walked down the stairs towards the entrance to the Great Room you saw that Tom was waiting for you next to the door. He looked dashing in his black suit, his curls swept back nicely. When he noticed you, his eyes widened a bit, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something but no words came out. You walked over to him and he reached out his hand for you to take.

“Wow, Y/N... You look absolutely stunning.” You blushed at his words as you took his hand.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” He smiled at you and pulled you closer by your hand, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Shall we go in?” He asked nodding his head in the direction of the door. You nodded, so Tom linked his arm with yours and led you inside the Great Room.

Your seats were in the front of the room right beside where your parents were going to sit once they arrived. Daniel was standing on the other side of the aisle talking to his parents. He was shifting his weight from one leg to the other his eyes moving towards the door every so often even though he knew it would be a while until Kate would arrive. Tom kept holding your hand as you sat down and you nervously played with his fingers. He eyed you with a small smile.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah... Is that weird? I’m not the one getting married, yet I’m nervous.”

“I don’t think it’s weird.” He shrugged his shoulders squeezing your hand reassuringly. ”This is a big step for your sister so it’s a big step for you as well. But for what it’s worth, I think the ceremony will go smoothly and everything’s going to go according to plan. Your grandma told me how much planning went into this, I think it’s impossible for something to go wrong.” He chuckled and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh as well.

“You’re right. This is probably the most meticulously planned wedding of the year.”

Throwing one arm over your shoulder Tom pulled you closer and placed a kiss on your temple. “I’m glad I can be a part of it. Thank you for inviting me.”

“No, thank you.” You whispered afraid someone could overhear you. “For agreeing to accompany a complete stranger to a wedding.” You couldn’t believe that only weeks ago Tom was a mere stranger in a coffee shop. It felt like you’d known him for months, if not years. It’s crazy how much things can change in such a short amount of time.

“You never told me what happened with that Joe guy.” Tom said after he saw Joe enter the room, subconsciously pulling you a little closer.

“Huh, you’re right...” You raised your eyebrows. You had almost forgotten about Joe. When you first saw him yesterday you were afraid that you’d be thinking about him the whole time, even if it was just because you wanted to avoid him. But the thoughts of Joe had been completely erased by Tom. “Well, we met when I was fourteen and I was immediately smitten with him. He was always nice and kept hinting that he had feelings for me, too. He lives a few hours north from London so every time I asked him about his feelings for me he said ‘yeah there’s undoubtedly something between us but I just can’t commit to a long-distance relationship.’”You mocked Joe’s voice making Tom chuckle. “But instead of keeping his distance from me whenever we did see each other he kept my hopes up. Whether I wanted to or not, I always hoped that one day we’d be together. Until I tried to take the initiative once. I asked him if I could visit him, you know, to talk. Told him to give me a weekend where he had time. I looked up trains for the dates he gave me. And let me tell you those tickets weren’t cheap. But I was willing to pay that and travel several hours to see him.

“In the end, he told me he had other obligations that weekend but he could probably fit in a couple of hours to chat. That’s when I suddenly realised that he never cared as much about me as I cared about him.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Long story short, he led me on for a long long time.” You pursed your lips as you looked at Tom. He looked down at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher.

“Phew. Well, that’s definitely his loss. But how come he’s here now?” He turned around to look at Joe again who was talking to one of Daniel’s friends.

“He’s a family friend. But I really expected Kate to tell me that he’s coming.”

“But you’re good now? No lingering feelings or anything?”

“Nah. I didn’t even think about him until you brought him up just now.” You gave Tom a proud smile.

“That’s great, love.” He rubbed your shoulder and before either of you could say more your mother sat down next to you talking about how excited she was.

The ceremony was beautiful. Seeing your sister getting married had you more emotional than you had expected. You teared up quite a few times while your mother was quietly sobbing next to you. Tom squeezed your hand every once in a while with a small smile.

***

The reception was being held in the dining room that you had already seen yesterday but this time the decorations were even lusher, which you didn’t think was possible. But it still looked beautiful. Everyone congratulated the newlyweds, pictures were taken and you really enjoyed yourself.

Kate insisted on throwing her bouquet and even though you tried to stand as far back as possible, the beautifully arranged flowers landed right in your hands. Perfect. Your mum clapped her hands and pushed Tom in your direction waving the photographer over.

“We need a picture! C’mon Y/N, show us who caught the bouquet!” She stood next to the photographer with the biggest smile and you rolled your eyes.

“Me!” You said with fake enthusiasm and clenched teeth. Tom laughed as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Don’t sound too excited, love.” You looked up at Tom, putting biggest smile you could muster on your face. He looked down at you, a similar expression on his face. “That’s more like it.”

After that, the wedding breakfast was on the agenda. And to be honest you were really hungry. Because of your late morning, you hadn’t really had the time to eat actual breakfast. So the wedding breakfast would literally be your breakfast. You and Tom were seated close to the head table. You were sharing a table with Joanna, her husband and Lottie as well as Joanna’s mother, your aunt Mathilde. She was your mother’s oldest sister and just as enthusiastic about weddings.

After everyone was finished with their food, speeches were held which ended up being just as emotional as the ceremony itself. You had also prepared a little speech and your hands were shaking with nerves as you stood up. You had the sheet of paper lying in front of you in case you lost your place. You wrung your clammy hands as you looked around the room introducing yourself.

“When Kate introduced Daniel to us for the first time, I immediately knew that he’d be the one for Kate. Every other guy Kate brought home before him was bound to be kicked out by her eventually. And there were a lot.” You chuckled and so did everyone else who knew of Kate’s dating history. “No one ever had the strong-mindedness that matched Kate’s. It’s not a secret that she can be a handful sometimes. But Daniel is the perfect counterpart to that.” You turned to look at Kate and Daniel sitting at the head table. “You complement each other in the best possible way, and every time you guys look each other you can see that true love really exists. Kate, I’m so happy for you.” You had tears in your eyes again and so did your sister. You laughed at your emotional state. “Look at me, I’m crying again.” You wipe away your tears before continuing. “Daniel, you’re the best husband I could ever wish for for my sister. Welcome to the family.” You raised your glass with a smile and Daniel mimicked your motion sending you a wink, mouthing ‘thank you.’ Everyone else raised their glasses as well and cheered. You finally sat down again, having to wipe some more tears away.

After Kate and Daniel had danced the first dance as husband and wife the dance floor was quickly filled with people. You were talking to Lottie when you felt Tom’s hand on your thigh. You turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“D’you wanna dance?” He asked with a sheepish smile and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips.

“Of course I’d like to dance.” You nodded and turned towards Lottie. “Will you be alright while I dance with Tom?” She only nodded too engrossed in a colouring book to give you a verbal answer. Her tongue was slightly poking out between her lips while she tried to stay within the lines. You reached for Tom’s outstretched hand and he pulled you to your feet before leading you to the dance floor that was in the middle of the room. The DJ was playing a somewhat upbeat song so Tom and you started duelling yourself with the most awkward dance moves you both knew. While you did the robot, Tom showed off his best boyband moves, making you burst out laughing. Tom grabbed your hands and twirled you around until you were dizzy and out of breath from laughing. He pulled you close so you lightly collided with his chest his arms wrapping around you. The current song faded out and the DJ’s voice was heard over the speakers.

“Let’s get romantic with a little bit of Ed Sheeran.” You heard Kate squeal, she was a huge fan, and run to grab Daniel to dance with him. The first chords of Kiss Me were heard and you automatically wrapped your arms around Tom’s neck with a blush on your cheeks. He slowly swayed you from left to right, his hands on your waist. Tom was looking at you with a cheeky smirk as his hands moved towards your back, inching lower towards your butt.

“Ah ah.” You grabbed his wrists. “Your hands stay right there” you moved his hands back to your waist. “around my family.” You playfully glared at him.

“Around your family, huh?” He pulled you closer so your chest was pressed against his. “So if we were alone, you’d let me?” He raised an eyebrow, that stupidly attractive smirk still on his face. Yes, you’d let him. But you won’t tell him that.

“You’ll have to find that out for yourself.” you shrugged and gave him a smirk of your own. Tom’s cheeks lifted into a genuine smile as he continued to sway you on the dance floor.

After a few moments of looking into your eyes, he moved his face a bit closer as if to tell you a secret. “Did you known I met Ed Sheeran at the premiere of his concert film?”

“Is that supposed to impress me, movie star?” You made an unimpressed expression, even though you were indeed a little impressed.

With a barely noticeable shake of his head Tom let out a soft laugh, one of his hands moved to your cheek. He softly pulled you closer until his lips touched yours. You were surprised by the feeling of his soft lips against yours for a moment. But then you allowed yourself to close your eyes. This was most likely one of the last times you got to kiss Tom, might as well enjoy it. Your hands moved into his hair pulling him even closer as your mouth opened, your tongue meeting Tom’s. You melted into his touch, forgetting everything around you as you kept kissing Tom. His thumb softly caressed your cheekbone as you tilted your head to the side, urging your lips against his.

You were slightly out of breath when your lips eventually separated from his. The song was over and the DJ had decided on something upbeat again. But you didn’t even really notice. Tom’s forehead was against yours, his nose brushing against your own and you could feel his breath on your lips. Tom pulled you closer by your waist.

“Y/N I...” he paused and swallowed thickly as if he needed to pluck up the courage to say what’s on his mind.

“You..?”

He moved his head back a bit so he could look into your eyes and you knew that what he was going to say was important.

“I don’t-“ You were suddenly grabbed by the shoulder and pulled into the forming conga line by Dave who laughed at the face you pulled. He couldn’t have picked a worse time to do that.

Part 8

Thank you for reading 💕

Let me know what you think! :)

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#tom holland au #tom holland fic #tom holland series #fake dating au #tom holland x reader #more than I know

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ifandomalot · 4 years

Text

This is Love. (2/3)

Summary: Steve makes you realize, touching isn't always so bad. Along with that there are consequences for actions that you have to live with. Steve makes a decision that might mean he losses you and his unborn baby forever.

Warnings: unexpected pregnancy, kidnapping, fighting, girl got some abandonment issues bc of this ya feel. But this is a timeline week by week, mention of abortion. Also i did not proof read this, a bitch is lazy so.

Part 1 / Part 3

The bright light of the sun peaks through the cracks of broken curtains, the small breaks of brightness illuminating the soft features of your face. Steve's eyes flutter, long eye lashes form a pattern of touching his cheeks and below eyebrows, the body’s way of deciphering if it was time to get up. Even stuck between the veil of mumbling tiredness and real life, his eyes don't lie to him, it was clear, you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

Small breaths from parted lips, patterns of sleep red against your cheeks, he smiles softly. His hands are gently as they rub the fading bruising, wanting to add some love to the pain.

He decides to allow you to sleep, showering and getting ready for the day before slipping into the kitchen to make breakfast. He was nervous around you, he wanted to talk, but really didn’t know what to say. The majority of the morning was spent thinking of the right words, how he should apologize.

Steve’s breath hitches when he sees you. A lady named Wanda introduced herself to you, and offered you new clothes, which of course was accepting seeing all you had were Steve’s.

“Um, I, Hi.” Steve is red, a mumbling mess. He’s spent hours practicing the right words but forgot them instantly. Beautiful, your hair still a little wet from the shower, a simple white t-shirt and a pair of jeans showing the curves of a woman. Steve almost feels guilty thinking about you in this way, especially since he knows exactly what you look like under those clothes. “I made you breakfast.”

He wants to press his hand on your back, lead you to the stool on the kitchen island but instead extends his hand to the pile of french toast. Steve isn’t hungry, sleep or hunger don’t come easy, instead he lives on guilt and self-pity.

You pick at the food, Steve’s constant stare makes you nervous. Every time you look up, he’s looking at you. Steve clears his throat, managing to finally squeak the words out. “I’m sorry. For, what happened.”

His touch maybe was unwanted, but he didn’t hurt you, If anything he saved you. You didn’t blame him for this, unlike Steve. He was just as much a victim as you were. “You did what you had to do.”

“I could’ve did better, I could’ve said no or fought them when they tried to come in and get you.” You shake your head. He wasn’t the reason why you hated being touched, the men before him ruined it for you, spoiled a chance at ever being normal.

“If anything you saved me, if it wasn’t for you I would still be there.”

“I don’t like this feeling I have. It feels like I wronged you and I’m sorry.” Small tears of frustration fill his eyes, he swears he’s never cried this much before like these two days.

“I don’t blame you.” You stand, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. With Steve breaking down like this you were practically useless, no comfort to anyone. You leave quickly, leaving Steve to drown in his pool of guilt by himself.

The first week is hard, he tries to talking to you but you just continue to blow him off but someone still end up in his bed at night, no talking, just the security of knowing he won’t let them take you away again.

The following week there is progress, you take your time by end up joining him for breakfast every morning, accompanying him on his run. Your night time routine filled with way more conversations, he finds out your favorite flowers are sunflower and it matches you, the sun always finds it’s way on your skin, you’re his little sunflower. But he never dares to touch you.

The third week is when he finally does it. It’s a late night, the two of you decided to watch a movie. The warmth of the covers makes you sign, winter was coming, snow was always your favorite, if only it wasn’t so cold. “Are you cold honey?”

Steve had developed this habit of nick name calling, it didn’t bother you much, quite honestly made your cheeks heat up, you felt safe with him. “A little.”

Steve is unsure, his eyes keep flickering to yours then to his hands. What if you didn’t want to sleep with him anymore if he tried?

“I-I can warm you up.” The suggestion made you tense, Steve would never hurt you, not intentionally, but the thought of someone’s hands against your skin made you sick.

“I, ugh -.” You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, you didn’t want him to think he was the reason you didn’t like being touched because it wasn’t true. Nothing good ever came with a male putting his hands on you. The look on his face made you guilty, he looked like he was going to cry. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

Steve shakes his head, “I want you to want me to touch you, not because you feel guilty. My touch is good.”

Warmth radiated off his bare chest, your hand looked so small compared to the smooth skin. “I trust you cap.”

A small smile with no teeth makes your heart pound, never has a man made you feel so safe. His hand gently rests against your wrist, taking it slow as finger tips trace every freckle, every beauty mark of your arm, pads of his thumb soaking up your collar bones, dips in them. Eyes flicker from your skin, to your eyes. A magical moment, where you feel like your floating. The length of your neck and stop at your lips. Thumb so soft against the fat skin of your lip, he’s breathing heavier now, he wants to kiss you but can’t find himself too. “You’re beautiful.”

It only a few days later when the nightmares start, the imagines of hands choking you, touching you inappropriately, hurting you. Steve wakes from your whimpers, your yells and in seconds he’s shaking you, begging you to wake up. The moment your eyes meet his, you shoot up punching him dead in the nose. “Get away from me!”

Blood trickles down the cleft of his lip, it didn’t hurt, not as much as his heart aches for you right now. “It’s me, It’s just me.”

Hot tears burn cheeks as you wrap the blanket closer to your body, cowering away from him but the head board stops you. “It’s me sweetheart, It’s Steve.”

This time when he touches you, you feel calmed, relaxed. His touch is good. Realizing it is only him, not the salient that haunts your dreams, in an instant you wrap your arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. Fingers knot your hair as he whispers soft words, “I got you, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Soon after he learns everything about you, why they took you, what they did to you. Stories you thought you would never share but with Steve it was so easy, talking to him was easy. It became a pattern, sleeping together, sharing meals, going out, small dates, it all seemed to fall into place.

“Steve?” A book is tucked secretly in your lap, a gift from him. Legs stretched across his lap, a pair of glasses make him look older, not in a bad way at all. He is also reading, but eyes meet yours.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Steve chokes as the words hit ears. The soft music in the back ground no longer heard, just heavy beating of his heart as his mouth dries. Honestly, he’s thought about it. You have very tempting lips but the matter was he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, with it only being a month since everything, it just didn’t seem like enough time.

Time was good to you though. Weight was put on, nightmares were almost non existent, Steve had shown you the touch wasn’t always bad, that it can be for comfort, for fun, or just because you care about someone. He had started taking you out in the city, trying new food, and to the extent every Friday you went to the bookstore together.

Blush heats his skin red, chest blotchy with dots and nose warmed. “I-I thought about it.”

“Do you like me?”

Steve watches curiously you sit up, crossing your legs and face him. “I think I like you, I’ve never felt like this with someone.”

Steve felt his heart thump, over and over again. Not believing the words. “I like you a lot, sweetheart.”

“A lot?”

“A lot, lot.” Steve’s fingers reach out, running along the bone of your jaw, and highest points of cheeks. “You’re very beautiful, and I do want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first night you slept in my bed.”

Slowly you lean forward, lips tingling at the thought of his against them. The prickly hairs of his beard tickles your chin, smooth lips meet yours. It was effortless, filled with small breaths, lips meeting lips with such passion it warms his body. It isn’t long, he doesn’t want to push you too far but can’t deny the smile you give him makes his knees weak.

“This feels even better than hugging you.” He smirks at your comment, eyes roaming the beautiful, soft skin of your face. “feel free to do it all the time, sweetheart.”

The next week is scary, all of a sudden you’re sick. Nausea is not your friend, certain foods make you gag to the point he takes you to the doctor. It doesn’t take long, the doctor walks in with a smile, and it confuses him.

“Well congratulations in an order, dad.” To say Steve isn’t happy is and understatement, and the look on your face matches. The car ride is spent with tears, and on his half he’s lost in his head.

“We need to talk about this.” Steve finally speaks one the pair are tucked safely in their room, away from the prying ears of the team.

“I can’t have a baby!” Freaking out is an understatement, you are panicking, eyes puffy red and the tears just can’t stop flying. “I can’t even handle myself.”

Steve’s chest is filled with emotion that threatens to pour out as tears. This wasn’t supposed to happen but he doesn’t understand why he didn’t think this was a possibility, two months ago it had to happen at least twenty times, he filled you twenty times, to be fair he though he was infertile, that the ice took away his ability to produce.

Kids were something of his old life’s dream, a man that didn’t have the responsibility of keeping the world safe. He didn’t want this baby, this baby was made in the darkest times of his life, the times that reminded him of exactly what he was; a monster.

It was an everyday conflict, seeing you made him think of those times but having you cuddled in his chest, kissing his lips made him forget them, made the moment numb to the pain.

“I can’t be a father, I’m going to fuck it up.”

Steve felt bile rise in his throat the moment you mentioned it, “We have to get rid of it.”

“Kill it? A baby?” Having it didn’t sit right with him but killing it? That was the last thing he wanted to do. “It’s a baby, we can’t.”

“You expect me to having this baby with no intention of raising it, I don’t want it.” It even felt sour in your mouth, but you couldn’t give the child what it needed. You couldn’t emotionally support it, you couldn’t give it the comfort it needed, what if the touch of it made you sick like others?

“There are other options, lots of people in this world want a baby.” Steve is a mess, he eyes heavy with tears. The guilt of this will for-surely eat him alive too.

The next day Steve is gone before you wake up, throat is raw from yelling, eyes hurt, physically hurt when they’re opened, too many tears passed them. French toast is on the table, a glass of orange juice and a bowl of strawberries, still hot, not made too long ago.

Steve’s loud voice could be heard from the room along with mumbling of others. Everyone was gathered in the conference room, papers in hand. You decide to join them, talk about what happened last night since there was no doubt they heard the screaming.

Steve hadn’t noticed that you had entered, his looked towards the screen. The face of the man that tormented you for years, case file on show for everyone to see. Pictures of you sliding with the touch of his fingers. You felt dirty, him showing you off like some helpless victim. “We need to move out later for he doesn’t relocate and we loose him again.”

“You’re leaving?” It was a small squeak, everyone’s eyes shifted towards you. Buck’s meeting the guy who was supposed to be guarding the front door with clear annoyance, you weren’t supposed to be in here.

“It won’t be for long. We’ll talking about this later sweetheart.” Steve looked terrible, dark circles under his eyes, hair messily slid back not brushed like normal.

“Later? You just said you were going to be gone.” You argue, heart pounding against your chest as Nat clears her throat. “Let’s give them some alone time.”

“No, we’ll finish the plan, then I will talk to you.” Hard eyes, that leave no room for argument.

“Don’t bother Steven, I didn’t expect you to stay anyways.” The use of his full name is so foreign against your tongue, the hateful gaze makes his chest tight, but he stands his ground, arms crossing against his chest as you walk out without another word.

Hours passed, not another word from anyone, the team decided it was best to leave you be, Steve also thought it be best to give you some time to cool off. The kitchen per usual being your favorite place to be, the breakfast nook naturally had the most light, perfect amount to read a book in silence, watch snow fall peacefully.

Steve was quiet, sneaking up to perch himself on the door frame, eyes roaming over the long column of your neck, the concentration on your face as lips move but no sound as you quietly read the words on the page. The sun always seemed to have a beautiful habit of finding your face, illuminating the natural, raw beauty of you. But the moment his eyes lower from the dips in your collarbones to your stomach, he feels his heart sink, guilt igniting inside the pit of his stomach. "Sweetheart."

The words are spoken so softly but sneak up on you, jumping with a gasp he's right next to you, apologizing quickly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Your face said it all, you will still angry with him. Eyes glaring, it made him sigh, "i think we should talk about this."

His appearance said it all, tact suit was perfectly tailored for him, stretching over every muscles, every swell of man, if you weren't so mad, you would maybe even tell him it looked good. "Why? Seems as if you made up your mind."

You stand, walking away, picking at the plate of cookies on the kitchen island. The situation was stressful and at the moment it seemed effortless to even try but Steve followed, obviously having other plans.

"I am doing this for you." Steve's voice is softly spoken despite his eyebrows raising, jaw clenching, his teeth clenched in annoyance. How could you not see why he's was doing this? Everything he's done is for you, and from now on will always be, especially the seed of his in your womb.

"Don't you say that! You're doing this for you!" Your voice raises, fingers gripping the end of the counter in anger. The truth was clear, Steve didn't want to stay here, everytime he looked at you he felt guilty for what he had done, now trapped with him because of the fact of pregnancy.

"How could you say that?" Jaw muscle flickering, eyea darkening, the anger starting to take over. It filled his veins with molten lava that flowed and bubbled inside his chest. "They did this to you!"

It felt bitter on his tongue, talking about a baby like this. A small, innocent baby that had no idea of the mess of parents it will have. The situation it will be brought in, and the tragic story of how it was conceived.

"You just want to leave because you can't stand the fact that I'm pregnant by you and either you or I dont want it!" The truth hurts, from the moment you told him all Steve has felt was a lump of emotions heavy against his chest, at night it was worse, when you fell asleep all he felt was the crush weight ecoing 'this is your fault'.

Steve's face grows red, big swells of arms crossing over his chest. Standing taller as if he was trying to intimidate you. "You think that's true?"

"You know it. You can't look me in the eyes and say its not. This is for you, they look your sense of security away, stripped you of what you believed in." Despite the anger that filled you, small hands pull on his arm, breaking the wall to beg him to look at you. "Don't go steve, what if they get you again? Don't leave me alone."

It was small, a kiss of comfort against your forehead even though adrenaline of yelling at each other still had him up, pumped and ready to go. "I won't leave you, I'll be back, I'll be a week tops."

"Then just fucking go already!" Unwanted tears welled up, it was strange, usually so intact with emotions, mostly because you tried to show you had none. The bedroom wasn't far but trying to out walk Steve was hard, especially if he had a mission, and in this case making you okay with this.

"Just stop, okay? I will be back, I'm not leaving you."

The door was shut in his face and locked. The sounds of your sobs making him sigh, forehead pressing against the door in frustration. "Y/N, open the door."

No answer. His hand wrapped around the knob, knowing it would break under is strength but was it really worth it? Invading your space, not allowing you to have this time to think. It would be easier, leaving like this, not another word but the cowards way but lately he has felt like a coward.

Steve backed away from the door, despite the pounding of his heart screaming at him not too. Feet carried him down the steps, out the front door where Bucky and Sam were waiting for him. He gives a nod, the fakest smile manageable. "Ready."

Steve was a coward, a man that swore he was here, he would help you. Steve left because he couldn't take the fact you were pregnant with his child, the one he didn't want, the one you didn't care for so much either. A child that could never be loved, a spawn of true evil. Another reminder of what he's done to you. Another reminder that he will never be the same person.

The first few nights was hard sleeping alone, it was lonely too. Wanda and Natasha would talk to you, but there was only so much to be said. They always wanted to take you shopping or out for the day but books are where you found comfort. Weeks passed by, Steve would ask to talk but you always said no when Nat would ask. It was lonely but suddenly it was not, as you couldn't help but notice the swelling of your stomach. A small baby gifted from all the pain you have gone through.

The baby was always there, those nights you couldn't sleep, the nightmare that haunted you, the smiles, all those books you read in a span of two months, whenever worried or fearful your hand found your belly, the reason for this tragic life given.

The morning was one of warmth, heat of the sunshine warming bare skin, sleeping naked because clothes were always hot. According to your doctor the body was raising your body temp by almost 10 degrees, warm just like his father. It was no surprise, maybe there was super serum coursing through his veins. The buttery smell of waffles and warm syrup hit you instantly, stomach growling. Sweet food was something you couldn't get enough of.

"Is that waffles I smell Nat?" You sing song as corner the stairs but suddenly your appetite was gone. After two whole months it was almost bizarre to see his face, hair longer and pushed back, beard full as ever. He still looked handsome despite the fact that small cuts littered his face, bottom lip split into two.

"Nat told me you like sweet things now." It was pathetic really, after what he had done he thought two waffles could win you over?

Beautiful as ever, Steve couldn't help but let his eyes wonder. A sight he's missed for so long. The ghost of you seemed to visit him every night, taunting him with visions of playing with your hair, feeling the soft skin of your face under his thumbs. Even now his fingers burn at the despire to feel it, the softness and pleasure of it. The look on your hurt face said otherwise. He feels his own heart drop as your hands cup your belly in comfort, the child he never wanted but seeing you so round made it so real.

Tears burn your eyes, anymore emotions weren't your own. Turning a heel, you wanted to get a far away from him as possible.

"Honey, honey." His words that once made you blush and warm, were nothing. He was nothing.

Rough collasled fingers touch you so delicately, stopping you from moving, trapping you between the kitchen island and him. "Don't run away from me."

"Dont call me honey." You challenged despite the tears that slipped past eyelashes and left hot trails on cheeks. "Keep your honeys, keep your sweethearts, don't even say my name."

"I am sorry." He begs lowly, he keeps one hand flat against the island, the other reaching to wipe away the tears. "I finally got them yesterday, but when I snapped his neck, I realised that missing two months with you wasn't worth it. I'm sorry."

Two months he didn't have to feel the guilt of seeing you everyday, for two months he wasn't reminded constantly of what he had done to you. Forcing his child on you. But this every moment didn't even compare to the moment now, watching you fall apart in front of him.

"You left me here. You left me pregnant, i had no idea what I was doing." You argue, "All those appointments, all the nights I couldn't sleep without you. Well guess what Steve. I don't need you anymore."

He wasn't expecting the strength as you pushed against his chest, again and again until he stood feet away from you. "Leave me alone."

"The baby?"

"He's got his mother."

"He?" Steve felt his heart pound, rubbing his chest in pain. Not only from you, but the son that didn't deserve a father like him. Just like that you were gone.

Steve wasn't going to give up, the first week the worst he made you breakfast everyday, flowers delivered at the same time, whatever you wanted was yours, to the point that he went to your appointment with you, which you allowed because it was his baby too.

But as the weeks passed, it seemed as if Steve finally saw that it was pointless. The pain he caused was too much, it was true, you didn't need him anymore. He would steal glances now and then, eating his breakfast at the kitchen island as you read your book at the nook. A healthy son growing everyday, noticing how protective you were, hand always there protecting from any danger but none would come to you in this tower. Now sleeping in different beds, never slipped up by wondering in his room, never ate the food he made. Nights were now sleepless for Steve, filled with the heaviness of his emotions felt in his chest, mind always running with the thought of you. He had messed up, but all this time thinking about you made him realize, he was in love with you. The moment you mumbled into his room asking with sweater paws if you could sleep with him, he had known but finally accepting it.

"Steve!" Nat's panicked voice at 2 am followed by pounding on the door broke him from his thoughts, "It's Y/N."

His heart dropped at the sight of you, heavy breaths and tears. Shocks of pain making you howl as Bucky holds you up. "The doctor is coming."

"What happened?" For the first time in weeks, he's touching your skin, soft under thumbs. "Is he okay? What happened?" Its panicked as he recieved no answer the first time.

"I'm scared." You admit as you clench onto his shoulder, using him as support to stand as another yell ripples through your throat. Steve's breathing increases, chest moving faster and faster as the doctor runs in, yelling to take you to your room.

Everything moves as a blur, he didn't want a son but his baby didn't deserved to he hurt or even worse....

Even moments later he sees Nat, he sees the doctor's lips moving but no words register, his heart beat the only sound, faster and faster he clenches his chest, it felt like it was going to explode.

"Steve? Steve sit down." The panic of him has Nat worried now, using all her strength to push him to sit on the couch. Her hands taking strands of hair to relax him.

"I'm." Another heavy breath preventing him to finish his scentence, almost instantly he was back to normal. The panic attack had subsided and finally he was able to think again. "Is she okay?"

Nat nods, "she's in her room steve."

It was most likely you didn't want him there, but at this moment he didn't care. Steve was surprised the room was empty except you curled up in the sheets, hot tears of relief.

"Are you okay?" Steve is on his knees, elbows resting on the bed as he reached for you.

"Hes okay." For the first time in weeks he's heard your voice without words of venom. "You deserves your love too."

Emotion is caught inside his throat, tears threatening his eyes. The whole moment of the situation has him weak as you slip small fingers into his, guiding the the round bump of your stomach.

This baby reminded him every day of what he had done to you, it was his guilt to wear. A baby conceived from unfairness and unwillingness but it was something you have accepted, this was your soon and it wasn't cruel, it wasn't taking away your choice, your son was a gift from this cruel world. Steve didn't understand how until you lay his hand against the swell, the belly round but soft but firm with protecting the life inside of it. Tears slip past his eye lids as a soft sigh leaves his mouth, his son, his chance at redemption. The small kick made him smile slightly, he rests his head against in, a soft kiss of comfort.

"I want this. I fought it for so long but he's our second chance." Steve words are beautiful, but you look at him unsure. What if he breaks your heart again?

"Please." A small whimper, just above a whisper from a broken man.

"We can try, for our son."

Once again his eyes run over the large bump. How could he never want him? Fingers are gently as they draw small lines, the first time he's touched his son.

He wasn't a reminder of his past, what he had done and now realized he hasn't trapped you, you wanted this baby. This was a second chance, to raise this son to be the man he always wanted to be and for you and him. A smile, his heart thumps in his chest, hard. All this time he's spent with you, he's never seen this, a real, genuine smile. Its so sweet, small but the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. His heart is so full, and for the first time in his life, he knows exactly where he belongs. "I love you.."

tags: @suppu97, @lexxxistrips, @nova3312, @lovely-geek, @readermia, @heyiambuse, @yn-the-reader, @serpentvixen2-0, @ashwarren32, @gabloka, @jayde0602

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #chris evans #chris evans imagine

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anonfanfic · 4 years

Note

historical, clexa, sad/angst

Clarke’s fingers dug into the back of her chair as the last lace was tied on her corset. Her body had gotten use to every part, except the sudden loss of breath with every tug.

“Your father is waiting for you,” Niylah held the door open for Clarke. She had no desire to see either of her parents. Today was the day she was going to meet her future husband. This was a union that would unite two powerful kingdoms and nothing Clarke could say would stop it.

“Let’s get this over with,” Clarke sighed, trying to adjust her dress as she body struggled to adjust to the pain of the corset digging into her ribs.

Niylah led the way out of the room and down the long hallway to the throne room. Her parents would be waiting with the guests from the neighboring kingdom. Clarke felt her hands start to shake as they reached the large double doors. It was taking everything inside of her not to turn and run. She had never wanted this, it was what she had been born to do. She had to unite their people to stop any threats of war. Together the two kingdoms would be too large for any other to stand against them. It was for her people.

The doors opened and Clarke felt her face pull into a smile as she walked into the room. Her parents were laughing with two tall imposing figures. The tall man with a thin crown sitting on top of his balding head turned to greet Clarke.

“This must be the princess.” The man, who had a jagged scar on his left cheek, reached out both hands to take Clarke’s and kiss the back. He continued to hold her hand in his much larger and sweaty mitt. He lead her toward her parents and the younger man who bore a striking resemblance to his father, though the prince did have a full head of hair.

The man lifted Clarke’s hand and offered it to his son. The younger man reached out and took Clarke’s hand, placing a kiss right where his father had kissed seconds before. Clarke felt dizzy with how swiftly it seemed things were progressing.

“It is an honor to be marrying such a lovely princess. We shall see our kingdoms stand stronger than ever under our united leadership.” The man placed one more kiss on Clarke’s hand before letting it fall to her side.

Clarke couldn’t speak, she could only keep the same tight smile on her face and nod along with his words.

“Clarke, this is King Marcus and his son Prince Roan.” Clarke’s father introduced Clarke to her future husband as if they were at a dinner party.

“The pleasure is mine.” Clarke lifted her dress and curtsied for the two men. She knew her place in all of this and the less she spoke the better it would be for everyone.

“The King has graciously offered to allow the ceremony to happen here.” Clarke’s father was charismatic as ever. There was a reason he was called The People’s King, he could hold a conversation with anyone at any time if given the chance.

“However,” He continued and Clarke felt her heart jump into her throat. She knew by the chance in his tone that whatever he was going to say was going to shatter her.

“He has requested that your union rule in their kingdom. As a more central location it would be the best…”

His voice drifted away and all Clarke could hear was her heartbeat. It thumped like a war drum in her ears. She felt her knees start to buckle and held out a hand to steady herself from tumbling to the hard, cold floor.

“Are you alright?” Clarke blinked to try and focus and saw that Roan was holding her up.

Clarke cleared her throat and looked at everyone around her.

“I’m fine. I need...air.” Clarke took a few steps back. “I’ve been shut up in my room most of the day. I think I just need a moment. Please excuse me.” Clarke gave one last curtsy to the room before turning and walking out.

She looked around the hall for Niylah, but only found the two guards standing by the doors. Clarke had no time to waste. She walked to the entrance of the palace and out into the bright midday sun.

“Your majesty, do you need a guard?” One of the men at the front gate looked concerned.

“No, no thank you. I won’t go far.” Clarke waved her hand dismissively and took off toward the busy market circle.

Clarke knew exactly where she was going and didn’t want any one following her. She didn’t look away from her destination. She could hear the whispers of the few people she passed, but paid them no mind. Her head was still spinning and she had no idea if her legs would continue to hold her weight much longer.

Clarke reached the small house on the edge of the market circle and knocked on the knotted wood door. She waited a few minutes before knocking again, this time louder, still nothing.

“Lexa?” Clarke tried the door and found it unlocked. “Lexa, are you here?”

Clarke looked inside and saw Lexa walking with a pile of clothing over to a traveling sack laying open on her bed.

“What-what are you doing?” Clarke asked, watching as Lexa carefully folded the clothing to fit in the small space.

“Packing,” Lexa answered simply, not looking up from her work.

“I can see that, but why?” Clarke felt her heart pounding again. She had come to see Lexa to calm herself, but found that everything she had been feeling a few moments ago was nothing. She had walked in to find Lexa packing up everything she owned, this was truly a nightmare.

“Niylah was just here.” Lexa finally looked up at Clarke. “When were you going to tell me?”

Clarke took a deep breath and silently cursed her handmaiden for always needing to speak out of turn.

“Lexa, I had no idea. My father just told me.” Clarke walked over and put a hand on Lexa’s arm. “I would have never agreed if they’d given me the choice.”

Lexa stopped packing and let Clarke move in closer. “I never wanted any of this.”

Clarke lifted her free hand and pushed Lexa’s long dark hair away from her face. She swallowed heavily, wondering if that would be the last time she’d be able to do that. It was all too much to bear. This was who she loved and wanted to be with forever. Lexa had been her everything for so long and now nothing would ever be the same.

“Run away with me.” Lexa lifted her arms and grasped Clarke’s face. Her face brightened as she took a step toward Clarke. “We’ll be so far into the woods before they even noticed, they’ll never find us.”

Clarke looked into Lexa’s beautiful green eyes, the same eyes that had given her so much strength over the years. She loved seeing them so alive and happy. She hated that she would have to end that.

Clarke shook her head and took a shaky breath, her body quivering as she started to cry.

“You know I can’t Lexa. Our people will be destroyed.” Clarked leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Lexa’s. “But please don’t leave me.”

Lexa leaned in and gave Clarke a kiss. Their lips lingered together for a beat before Lexa pulled away. Her bright expression had hardened to a mask that Clarke didn’t recognize.

“I can’t stay. If I stay, I won’t be able to stop myself from seeing you and if we were caught, I would hang. You know that.” Lexa’s jaw tensed and she walked back to her bed and tied up the bag.

“Lexa, I…” Clarke felt the sorrow wash over her body as she watched Lexa pull the bag onto her shoulders. “I love you.” Clarke held back a sob, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

“I love you, too. But it’s not enough. Not right now.” Lexa walked over and grabbed the back of Clarke’s head and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Maybe someday.”

Clarke’s legs finally gave out on her and she fell to the floor. Lexa’s hand rested on her head for a second before Clarke heard footsteps crossing to the door. The door opened and Clarke shuttered as tears now racked her body.

“Maybe we meet again.”

Clarke heard the door shut and knew Lexa was gone. She had nothing left now. It didn’t matter if she married Roan next week or tomorrow. Her entire world had just walked out of her life. She would do what she had to do to save her people. There was no one left who could save her.

#clexa #clexa fanfic #clexa fanfiction #clexa au #clexa historical au #prompt

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