#I LOST THE REST OF MY LIFE IN THAT GODFORSAKEN CITY AND I HAVE NO LIFE IN THIS GODFORSAKEN TOWN I HAVE LOST EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amywritesthings · 10 months

Text

silver underground. / chapter 15.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin)

Word Count: 4.6K

Summary: flashback five - also known as the start of the heist that may grant you a chance at living in the sun

Warnings: verbal arguments, miscommunications, self harm language, mentions of injury, death, and illness

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

CHAPTER 15 - FLASHBACK: FIVE

note: the next couple of chapters will be heavily influenced by the ova 'no regrets'. they are my interpretations of the material. please watch those episode first, otherwise you will get spoiled on elements revolving around levi's backstory.

“This is suicide.”

Furlan winces at your strong reaction. Isabel pales.

They’re both sitting on the edges of the love seat couch, equal parts surprised yet expectant of your reluctance.

Of course they had Levi break the news first.

Neither of them wanted the blow back of your rage at the mere entertainment of such a problem.

Levi, however, can take your anger and neatly fold it with the rest of the clothes you’ve shared since you were kids. He knows how to dismantle your rage in ways the other two have never quite mastered.

At the kitchenette table, the raven-haired man doesn’t move from his chair. Leisurely his arm drapes along its back, legs crossed in front of him. You wait a full table-length away from him, hunched with your hands pressed into the wooden surface separating you.

A stand off.

The other two watch like hawks, awaiting a response from Levi that never arrives. You feel the worry rolling off of Furlan and Isabel in waves, a concern they can’t quite voice, but all you can do is stare at him.

Dead eyes, unwilling to express anger or excitement, meet you.

Right now, you hate him.

You hate Levi’s neutrality.

You hate this godforsaken city.

Most importantly, you hate how easy a few pretty words can upend your entire operation.

After a long stretch of silence Isabel clears her throat, fidgeting with her fingers. “We would be careful, sis. We’re always so careful. The old man said—”

“I know what he told you, Isa,” you snap, and Isabel whimpers with uncertainty. “I think I heard it loud and clear — unless there’s a part of the proposal I missed. Levi?”

His eyes flinch to a narrowed state.

You’re angry.

You’re angry because a devil made an offer.

Not just any devil — a devil from the surface, one that lives within the walls and takes the sunlight for granted. A demon willing to dangle the one thing everyone in the Underground City district desires most on a flimsy little stick:

Salvation.

More specifically, documentation that’s as precious as rare rubies. Papers that bypass the thugs bleeding funds dry at the top of the stairs. A ticket to a better life, one where a person like you can walk among the living rather than fight with the dead for scraps.

The offer sounds too good to be true.

It sounds too good to be true because it is.

(We were offered a job by someone from the surface, someone with the reputable means to back up his payment, and we accepted the terms and conditions in exchange for money and a one-way ticket to the surface.)

Ever since you were seventeen, finding a way for the four of you to live on the surface is all Furlan has wanted. Now you're twenty-one with an opportunity for a way out. You cannot take an entire gang there — the transport of underlings cannot work like that, the logistics are not feasible, but this?

For the people he’s grown up with, laughed with, cried with?

(His family — Furlan has said the doomed word more than once to your face, to Isabel’s, to Levi’s. None of you have ever corrected him.)

What was once a fruitless idea has been fertilized and harvested, corrupted by grubby hands who can make a pipe dream happen.

It’s poisonous to a dreamer like him — like Isabel, who has never lost her knack for dreaming no matter how dire things get, so you focus your efforts on the only other person in this apartment who may see the reality for what it is.

A lost cause.

(A trap.)

“Doesn’t it seem wildly convenient,” you begin with a bite, “that some rich asshole found the three of you wandering the streets with little to no trouble? We’re supposed to have eyes everywhere. We’re virtually untouchable, even on the main roads.”

“The Military Police have been after us for years, James,” Furlan argues, but his words falter closer to a plea. “Pretty sure everyone down here knows our names. And it’s not like the Military Police have no idea where we live, so it stands to reason this guy—”

“That isn’t the point, Furlan,” you tell him. “You’re talking about the MPs. This guy is not an MP. He’s an outsider.”

Furlan’s frown deepens. “So?”

“So?" you repeat. "So you don’t think it’s suspicious, at all, that this shithead is offering us a job—” The humorless laugh bubbling on your lips stops your train of thought. “Actually, calling this a job is an insult to what we’ve built.”

“James—”

“Blackmail, Furlan. It’s fucking blackmail.” You pause, allowing the word to permeate through the room. “He is blackmailing us with the promise of money and the one thing everyone down here wants.”

A right to the surface.

A chance to live a life in the sun.

“Because we’re the only ones who can pull off a heist like this!”

Isabel urges with a naivety you typically adore. Right now? You loathe it.

“How many other people, what other gangs, have what we have? The numbers. The ODM stuff. The old man believes in us.”

On instinct, you sneer.

Belief, like it’s stronger than money.

Instead of taking your anger out on her — she doesn’t deserve it, not when you know her bleeding heart would pour itself dry without hesitation for a chance to bring this found family to surface safely — you snap your attention back to the quiet, contemplative man across from you.

He’s too calm about this; Levi trusts people from the surface as far as he can throw them.

Granted, it’s probably further than the distance you can toss, but still — it isn't far.

So you ask.

“Why?”

Levi's eyes narrow further, thinning to a sliver.

You lean in closer, gritting your teeth. Your necklace dangles off of your neck like a noose.

“Why are you okay with this?”

Curving your steps around the table, you walk towards him. Levi stays seated, eyes stalking your movements with practiced memorization.

“Why aren’t you telling them this is a terrible idea?”

Furlan holds out a noncommittal hand to stop you. “James—”

“Because we don’t have a choice,” Levi interrupts, finally standing from his chair. He doesn’t sound angry, but you know Levi sometimes better than you know yourself. Something is there, just under the layer of nonchalance. “It’s complicated.”

A storm flickers in his eyes when they meet yours.

“There’s nothing complicated about it,” you tell him, your words rushed under your breath. “We make the rules. From the very beginning until now, we make the rules. We don’t let surface scum tell us how to live our lives. We always have a choice.”

His chin tilts to the left. “Not this time.”

“Why?”

“We just don’t.”

“We do, Levi.”

“No, James, we don’t.”

He firmly emphasizes each syllable.

Then, finally, he places the caveat on the table:

“They have Yan.”

The warmth in your body pools at your feet, like the blood has seeped through the soles of your shoes and into the wooden blanks beneath.

It’s no secret that Yan, one of the long-time underlings of the gang, hasn’t been doing well.

Over the last few months, his legs have gone from bad to catastrophically worse. He’s barely managed on jobs, causing him to fall behind on earnings.

From the corner of your eye, you see it: Furlan’s head tilts back, eyes closed. He deflates, shoulders first, until his whole body shrinks.

It reeks of guilt.

(Why the hell would Furlan be guilty?)

Isabel is the opposite; her body tenses as her wild ginger hair flings side-to-side to look at Furlan, then Levi, then back to Furlan, waiting for an explanation.

Then you realize: she isn’t waiting for anything, not like you.

Because Isabel already knows that Yan’s being held hostage; she’s just waiting to see who will say it first — or if she’ll be forced to be the one to bring you into the loop.

Suddenly the world feels smaller, like you’re back in that little makeshift ring by an abandoned street stop.

Alone and fending for yourself.

“The hell do you mean, they have Yan?” You hate how shaken your voice sounds.

“Saw it with my own two eyes,” Levi tells you in a monotone manner. “There wasn’t anything we could do. So, no, we don’t have a choice — unless we want him to die.”

“Which means you all saw it.”

The words of doubt tumble from your tongue. Levi’s eyes tick in a squint to decipher what you mean, but you create physical space with a step backwards.

“All of you knew this wasn’t just about the money from some rich fuck, but you didn’t tell me the second you came back. Why didn’t—”

“I didn’t tell you right away because Furlan has been skimming money for Yan under the table,” Levi blurts, effectively stopping you from crawling into yourself.

The ball of yarn halts in its unravel. An uncomfortable silence fogs the room.

“...what?”

But that isn’t your voice.

Isabel speaks now with the same confusion in your gut. Her fiery hair whips to Furlan for an explanation.

Furlan doesn’t move a muscle.

You blink back into your body, and soon you find Levi standing right in front of you. He urges you with just a look, a nonverbal reassurance:

Breathe.

You’re not alone.

(You aren’t fighting three against one again.)

“It’s no secret that his legs went to shit,” Levi explains, level yet earnest. “First it was his ankle. Then it was his knee. Then it became both knees. Whatever disease he has, it’s spreading and it’s spreading fast. All of us have seen it coming: he can barely keep up with his team. No jobs means no earnings. Those are our rules. Furlan chose to skim off the top to help with treatments.”

Levi tenses under your widening stare.

“I knew," he finishes. "Furlan didn’t know I knew, but I did. Not Isabel, not anyone else — just me.”

Blame me, he’s telling you without saying so. Don’t punish everyone else for this.

(Levi Ackerman, always ready to shoulder your burdens without hesitation.)

Only one question numbly exits your lips: “For how long?”

Levi studies your eyes.

“Since the Nightshade job.”

Piece by piece, the gravity of your situation comes together.

You can feel it weighing down your shoulders when your attention flickers to Furlan.

Furlan trembles as he continues to stare at the ceiling. His complexion is tinged with a mortified, red-handed glaze.

The corner of your lips pull to a sympathetic frown. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It wasn’t anyone else’s business but Yan’s and Furlan’s,” Levi answers for the other man.

“But we could have helped,” you protest, turning your attention back to Levi. "Me, Isabel, all four of us — we could have helped."

“It’s a gang, James, not a church,” Levi bitterly argues. “If we help one person’s problems, then everyone looks for handouts. That isn’t how we operate.”

A hefty glare settles on your brow. “And now these people have Yan, who — by all intents and purposes — we could leave to die. Right?”

A squeak bubbles in Isabel's throat.

Levi tilts his chin with a knowing sharpness.

“Sure, if we want those bastards to torture him for information about us.”

There: the spark, the swift kick in your ass, to ignite the fire in your belly once again.

You’re mad, you’re furious — but not at any of them.

“So I was right,” you chide, chin dropping to your chest. “This is just blackmail—”

“His legs are shit out of luck if he doesn’t receive treatment at a surface clinic.”

A fingertip lifts the tip of your chin back up.

It’s enough of a shock to your system to get you to listen — Levi rarely, if ever, shows blatant affection in front of the other two, yet here he is: blurring the lines for the sake of keeping your focus.

“Bottom line is that I want to work with these pieces of shit just as much as you do, but without the proper medical treatment, Yan’s as good as dead," Levi explains. "Even if we left him to fend for himself, it could still destroy not only our reputation, but he could give them access to everything we have. Bringing Yan back is the best option for business. Furlan, Isabel, and I will do the job—”

Furlan, Isabel, and I?

“Wait.”

“—get him what he needs, bring him home—”

“Wait, what do you mean by—”

“—and we’ll figure it out from there.”

“—just the three of you?” you finally finish, voice smaller with each word. “But what about…”

“The bastard didn’t intercept you,” Levi says, and you push his hand from your chin.

“We need someone to take care of everyone else,” Isabel chimes in softly, shrugging a noncommittal shoulder.

You blink towards the younger girl with her shining eyes, seeking your approval; a cease fire to an awkward evening.

“If it’s a trap created by MPs, then at least we know our gang can get away if they come knocking on our door, right?” she adds. “James is fast. She’s a fighter. She can take them on, no problem.”

“No, Isabel,” you start, “what you need is a B-Team.”

“Hate to say it, but Isabel is right.” Furlan finally speaks, exhaling in a short huff. “He didn’t see your face or ask for you by name, so you’re kind of off the hook.”

In a shocking turn of events, Levi agrees in a matter-of-fact finality. “The less people involved, the better.”

That overwhelming sense of dread rears its ugly head once again, creeping up the veins of your neck.

“Don’t be stupid. Every job needs a B-Team,” you argue right back. “The three of you cannot just go on this job without eyes on—”

“Maybe not this one,” Levi shuts down your offer with little remorse. “This shit’s already two people too many.”

Your eyes grow, appalled.

“You’re serious?”

He doesn’t budge.

“I’m sorry, but are you fucking insane? What the hell happens, then, if any of you get caught?”

“James,” Furlan begins, holding both palms up. Your hair falls into your line of deadly sight when your attention whips to the lanky man with shaggy, ash-blonde hair. “We were doing this way before you came into the picture, okay? Levi and me, I mean."

You scowl. “You two were beating people up for money in fucking alleyways before me, not taking sacrificial bribes from surface pigs.”

Furlan frowns deeply, and you decide you hate him just as much as you hate Levi right now — because Furlan responds quietly and full of respect. Adoration.

“We’ll come home. We’ll make it to the surface, together. Please, you have to trust us.”

Your nostrils flare and the fire in your belly quells as you lock eyes with your friend.

“It isn’t you I don’t trust.”

Never.

You trust the people in this little apartment more than anyone in the Underground City.

You would go to war with them, die for them, if it meant they could be happy.

Surely by now, after all these years, the three of them knew implicitly where you stood.

The problem, however, no longer lies below: it’s the people above you in more ways than one.

(What lies on the surface is the enemy.)

One false move and the four of you stand a chance to lose everything —

Including each other.

Sickened by the absolutes you face, your hands push off the table.

"Fuck this. If you want to kill yourselves, then be my guest. Throw it all away. We’re not making it to the surface.”

Isabel stands from the couch as you turn on a heel, spinning towards the front door. “Wait!”

“I’m not sticking around to watch you die, Isa,” you bite at the young girl. She flinches from your venom. “Same goes for you, Church, and Ackerman.”

You don’t wait any longer.

Can’t; you feel sick to your stomach and don’t want to make a mess of the apartment.

Without another word, you step past the threshold of the apartment and into the damp outdoor air. Your boots shuffle down the narrow staircase, quick and panicked.

Isabel calls out your name — your first name, a cheap trick that usually gets you to listen.

You don’t.

Passing the corner is as far as you get when you hear a second set of shoes following in tandem, hitting solid ground and turning a similar edge.

Let them.

You’re too upset to confront, to ward them off, especially when you have a pretty good feeling as to who may have run after you.

You continue your trek, head bowed to avoid the watchful eye of your gang runts guarding the apartment premises. Through a main street and into an alleyway you’ve grown so familiar with.

Twenty-one; it only took a few years to finally get here, where the dream dries to a mirage.

A warm hand grabs your bicep, anchoring you in place. “Hey.”

You stop.

You don’t fight.

“Hey,” you greet in return without turning, allowing your arm to float in the finite space between bodies.

“Want me to let you go so you can continue your dramatic nature walk?”

Lessening his grip for emphasis, Levi waits.

(I won't keep you prisoner.)

The baritone of his voice, neutral with an edge of care, vibrates through your body like a soothing aloe.

“Depends,” you answer, craning your chin to watch him over your shoulder. “Are you going to run after me?”

“Kind of already did.”

The anger evaporates from the crown of your head to your toes with each passing second. Eventually you drop the heel of your boot to the ground, lessening the strain on your raised arm.

Then the tension between his brows dissolves, too, when it’s only the two of you here.

“Talk to me.” The request is barely above a whisper. “Don’t shut me out.”

His choice of words — your words, thrown back at your face — almost steals your breath.

“You shut me out about Yan,” you argue childishly. “About Furlan.”

“Like I told you, it wasn’t any of our business.”

“And you’re shutting me out of the job.”

“I’m not trying to—”

“It’s our home, Levi.”

You blink away, embarrassed by your sentiment. His hand flexes to let go of your arm. It unceremoniously drops to your side.

“We’re supposed to be… We’re supposed to watch out for each other. All four of us. That’s what we do. We don’t leave each other behind.”

“I know,” he says, somber, as if to apologize in his own way.

“If this is your half-baked attempt to protect me…”

You trail off when something flickers in his eyes. His expression shifts, and your shoulders drop.

“I could be a part of the heist,” you surmise, “but you’re leaving me out on purpose.”

His jaw clenches. “If I could leave Isabel out, too, then I would. Same with Furlan.”

“So it—”

“You’re the only one.”

Levi pauses, fighting to find the right words.

“You were the only one who wasn’t forced into that carriage. Chances are we’ll be flanked on all sides by Military Police. If things go to shit, then I know you’ll be safe back here.”

“Who can really guarantee that I’ll be safe?” You shake your head. “Isabel said it herself: it could be a trap. They could be trying to attack the rest of the gang while the three of you aren’t here.”

“Yeah, and there’s no one I trust more to make sure we’re still in operation. No one.”

He speaks with such conviction that you almost believe him.

(It’s not about trust in protecting assets, but something more basic than that.)

“And if you get arrested, then you don’t want me there,” you finally say what he won’t, and Levi’s eyes dart to the left to avoid yours. “You want me to be the last person standing.”

“We won’t get arrested.” His wispy black hair jostles when he shakes his head. “We’re too fast on ODM gear. The MPs won’t stand a chance.”

Silence engulfs the space. Your brain continues to run the numbers, the logistics, of the proposed heist plan given by this mysterious buyer.

Every scenario, every issue, every failsafe — you can’t shake the foreboding chill in your blood.

“And who’s to say they haven’t already killed Yan?” you decide to ask, running through your list of concerns.

“Yan contacted Furlan two hours ago,” he answers. “He’s already at a first-rate clinic.”

“What if it’s bullshit? A set up, where they’re pretending to be Yan?”

“Do you think I’d fall for a fake report?” Levi scowls, insulted.

“No, but Furlan would.”

“I checked, twice.”

Which means it’s true.

Your doubt never creeps up to Levi, not once.

Dejected in what little choice remains on the table, your attention subconsciously lands on his parted lips.

“...how do we receive the surface papers?”

“He already paid half of what he’s promised. I checked: it’s not bullshit. The money’s real,” Levi explains slowly. “Furlan, Isabel, and I will take the ODM gear and finish the job. Then we’ll get Yan back safely, give the money to the gang, and take you with us.”

“So I just… sit around like an old maid and hope everyone makes it back in one piece? Then we all get to hold hands, walk up the staircase, and strut straight through Wall Sina like we belong there?” You sigh heavily. “It sounds too good to be real.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “But Isabel’s right: we have to make sure our people don’t get stuck in the crossfires with the MPs.”

“Then agree to a B-Team.”

You slide a boot forward, lifting your attention to his eyes. His attention, however, slides opposite of yours — further south, staring at your lips as you propose.

“Let me lead a small group of us to watch your back.”

“James.”

“Levi,” you murmur his name, “look at me.” Surprisingly, he obeys. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to butt out of the one job that might change our lives. You protect me, sure, but I protect you, too. We’ll maintain our distance and have units set up to guard the apartment, but I want to be on the streets making sure you’re clear.”

His brows knit together briefly. “...I need you to be safe.”

“I will.”

“Because if I’m out there thinking for one second that you’re not—”

Reaching for the collar of his shirt, you pull him in to press a chaste yet firm kiss to his lips.

He tenses, seemingly expecting a wild punch, but he melts on contact and wraps his arms around you with a fierceness only a dead man can possess.

Because that’s all anyone can be down here: dead lives, dead faces, waiting for the final nail in the coffin. The world doesn’t scare people like Levi.

(What he’s terrified of, however, is trapped against his chest. Two hearts wildly beating in tandem. Unspoken confessions. The light.)

You nip at his lower lip, causing a tiny, needy noise to exit his throat. His arms tighten, and his feet drag the two of you towards a nearby wall.

Out of view.

His tongue searches for yours and you relent, pressing your hips into his. He makes another short, broken noise, and bunches your shirt into his fist.

Running your fingers through his hair, you drag your nails against his scalp and try to convey your urgency: please don’t leave me behind, please don’t get caught, please don’t disappear.

After a minute he rips his lips away, face tinged with a pink, bashful hue.

You open your eyes, drunk on the sight of his blush.

“...dirty trick,” he huffs without an ounce of anger in his voice.

“I got a couple of those up my sleeve,” you murmur in jest, smiling despite yourself.

He exhales again, sounding close to a laugh, and drops his forehead to yours. You press back, closing your eyes and allowing the moment to pass.

Peace.

(How much time do either of you have left?)

“Take a B-Team to the streets,” he finally relents. “Monitor our movements. Follow any MPs that might turn their attention to our employees. The client stated our target objectives will be making contact regardless of our consent, so as far as I’m concerned, the job’s already started.”

“I’ll keep our people safe, I promise.”

“I know you will,” he reassures, taking a rare moment of affection to lift his chin. His lips kiss the tip of your nose, warming your once frozen insides. “I trust you.”

You nod. “And when you finish the job, I’ll go where you go.”

He hums. “Is that right?”

“I made a promise, didn’t I?”

“Like a dumbass,” he jokes in that deadpan humor of his, and you can’t help but finally smile.

“But I’m your dumbass.”

“What an aspiration,” he groans, feigning annoyance. “My very own dumbass who’s gonna spend too much of her fucking time decorating our very dumbass house—”

“A house?”

Not just a house — our.

You abruptly pull your forehead from his to look him in the eye. Levi mentally backtracks, realizing his grave mistake from the way the whites of his eyes grow, but you press your hands into either side of his face to trap him in.

“Levi Ackerman, are you gonna get us a house?”

He sneers. “Where else are we going to fucking live?”

“Are you kicking out Furlan and Isabel?” you ask, unable to stop the grin from growing on your face.

Levi, knowing damn well he’s been caught red handed, groans and drops his head back.

“With the amount of money we’re making from this heist, Furlan damn well better be able to afford his own house. I’m sick of cleaning up after his shit. Isabel can go with him.”

You bite your lower lip. “They could always be our neighbors.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

The sarcasm bleeds right through, and you can’t help it: the giggle bursts from your throat, and Levi leans in to pepper gentle kisses against the base of your throat.

“Can I get a pet?” you ask, lifting your chin to the sky.

“A furball?” His teeth nip playfully at your skin. You jolt. “The little shit’s hair will get everywhere.”

“It’s your consolation prize for demoting me to B-Team.”

He tsk’s under his breath, allowing a beat to pass.

“Maybe one.”

“A cat?”

“Yeah.”

“Or two.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“I’m negotiating, Ackerman.”

“You can negotiate once we have a key, alright?”

You giggle in response, tugging his chin up to stare into his eyes. Levi settles against you, arms still looped around your waist, and sighs through his nose.

He admires the view, clearly taking the moment to memorize every inch of your face.

It feels too final.

“Come back to me, Levi,” you murmur, pouring all of your emotions into five small words.

At first he nods, small and earnest, before sealing your words with a gentle kiss.

“I won't go far from you."

author's note: I'm glad we collectively giggled and screamed and kicked our feet in the last few chapters. It was a marvelous time. Now I'm out here ruining everything.

Thank you to all of your wonderful feedback, asks, reblogs, etc. I can't believe my draft doc is over 60K words! I want to say we're about halfway through the story I want to tell, if not further in. We're definitely halfway through the flashbacks, so I promise those who have been asking about the CH10 cliffhanger… just hang tight (like James - ha.)

Please note that there will not be an update on August 11, as I have a bachelorette weekend to attend for a friend, so I'm hoping to write through the week and maybe post the next update on August 18.

tag list: @lazylizzy3 @notgoodforlife @sad-darksoul @dailydoseof-love @maliakealoha @nube55 @kateastrophies @blinkingsuns @gomigami @voidszoro @tanyeonn @chishiyasan @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @vigilancio @nomi98 @urfavcelestialangel @milkersonmac

198 notes · View notes

reds-skull · 1 month

Text

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

OOO I'm very excited to share this chapter! We're getting close to the finish line!

Its name is "The Song of Us"

Page 54 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 15:

The Blind man asks his companion, before dawn break, What do you believe, is a beast’s fate, Once death seizes its life, in his inevitable grasp? The beast, his heart knowing of the fallen knight’s pleas, Of men they lost, who were left to be but a worm’s dark feast, Answers, death reaches for monsters all the same as men, For the unjust, for the cruel, For the kind, for the forgiving, All bones become one, until they become none, As death is the only being, to see all as one and the same.

This city is quiet, in the way a drowning is. Something wicked is happening under the surface, hidden from plain sight. If only its victim had air to scream.

The Hunter has intel beyond the SAS’s scope, beyond Laswell’s. Informants, comms. A man pronounced to all as dead. How is it possible, they were written off as a non-threat before?

Soap grits his teeth, tapping the lit end of his cigarette on a wall. Simon started moving a few minutes ago, the poison once again retreating. By the haunted look in his brown eyes, John could tell they both know he’s running out of time.

Price has been arguing with Laswell while helping Simon. Something about the fact the Hunter seemingly didn’t exist a year prior, on paper. Appeared out of nowhere one day with an army behind them, ready to burrow into intelligence networks in a way even Makarov couldn’t.

Makarov’s name came up a lot in that conversation. Enough that Soap had to take a smoke.

Anger thrums through his veins. Begging for blood. The same incessant screaming that drove him to choke the life out of Makarov, the same fire that kept him going through this personal slice of hell.

Maybe he’s an idiot, for wanting to kill the Hunter, for believing it will change anything.

The cigarette’s flame licks his fingers.

Soap crushes it against the wall. He turns around, watching Simon and the Captain. Far enough to not hear them, but they seem to need a bit of privacy anyway. Soap can’t say he’s ever seen Price that emotional, in their short meetings.

He asks himself where Gaz is when the Lieutenant approaches him.

“Price is bloody livid, isn’t he?” Gaz huffs.

Soap hums. His eyes move from the Captain to Simon, his mask still on the ground besides him.

Kyle follows his stare, “did you know Ghost’s identity, when I found you two?”

“No”, the white skull almost glows in the moonlight, “I only found out when… the communicator tried to use it against him.”

He can feel Gaz scan his features, “and you still decided to work with him.”

Soap doesn’t answer. Simon and Price are hugging now, the movement uncoordinated to Ghost. He doesn’t know how he can tell.

He turns to face Gaz, “I swore we will finish this together. I don’t go back on my word.”

“We both know this goes beyond that, Soap.” Gaz gives him a half smile, “the way you look at him… Haven’t seen you like that with anyone else.”

Soap frowns, scoffing, “don’t know what yer-”

“You have feelings for him, don’t you?” Gaz asks, almost gently.

…Feelings?

…..Could he?

“I…”

“Don’t lie to yourself.” Gaz murmurs, “in all the years I’ve known you, you didn’t act like this. Going against everyone you know, jumping in front of him when Price starts threatening him, letting him rest his bloody head on your legs- c’mon Soap, you’re fucking smitten with the man-”

“Kyle.” Soap stops him, head hanging down to hide the embarrassment painting his cheeks red. He scrubs a weary hand over his features, looking up at his friend between his fingers.

Gaz’s eyes soften. Soap sighs, “I- this is not the time for that kind of shite. We need to fuckin’ dust the Hunter, and then-”

And then what?

Soap lowers his hand, stare unconsciously drifting towards Simon. Since when have his eyes started doing that?

It hasn’t been more than a month since he arrived to this godforsaken city. How is it that John can’t imagine being alone again?

Or… how can’t he imagine an ‘after’ without Simon?

“I won’t lie to you.” Kyle starts, his tone gentler, “I still don’t fully trust Ghost. Even if he is… Simon Riley.” the Lieutenant places a hand on his shoulder, “but I can tell what you truly want, even if you think it’s not feasible.”

“That’s because it isn’t-”

“Bullshit.” Gaz turns John around to face him, “look, we are not good men. We’ve been operating outside the law for… for as long as I can remember. What we do, the way we dirty our hands...”

Kyle lets out a shaky exhale, squeezing his shoulder, “what I’m saying is, we can make people disappear. And if you… if you want that, I can help. I’m sure Price will too-”

“Yer out of yer mind-”

“Are you going to go back to Scotland, mate?” Gaz’s voice sharpens on desperation, “are you gonna go back to feeling like you have nothing to live for? Can you really leave this life, leave Ghost, behind?” He almost whispers the end, “be honest.”

How could he go back? No apartment, endless job search, a buzz under his skin that cannot be scrubbed off, disappointment to his family, emptiness, emptiness, emptiness-

“What else can Ah do?!” Soap tenses under Gaz’s hand.

That hand keeps him steady all the same, “whatever you want, John.” Kyle smiles sadly, “me and Price don’t have that freedom, but you two? You don’t have stuffy generals breathing down your neck.”

“I don’t-” Soap cuts himself off, thoughts whirling faster in his mind. He gets reminded of what his therapist used to say about him, back when he was just discharged.

“You fixate on danger, John. To the point of obsession. You don’t know when to let go, if you believe you can make things right.”

“Even if the cost is more than you should be willing to pay.”

“Just… think about it. Besides…” Gaz looks away, expression darkening, “I have a feeling the 141 might need people like you in the future.”

Soap brows furrow, “dishonorably discharged adrenaline addicts?”

Kyle chuckles, “no”, his hands tighten on Soap’s shirt, “people we can trust. People who are willing to do what’s right, even if they know they shouldn’t. Even if they don’t act the way the higher ups would want them.”

His brown eyes turn to look at John, determination he first saw on bootcamp only growing stronger, “people like you.”

Soap goes through another cigarette with Gaz by the time Price and Simon return to them. Both of their eyes shine with tears.

“Laswell did some digging.” Price grunts, “wasn’t easy, finding intel on the Hunter. They know their way around our networks, clearly.” his stare flickers towards Simon, “this operation-”

“Mass murder” Soap corrects. Calling this an operation would spit on the dozens of innocent people left to rot here.

“Mass murder”, the Captain continues, “is very unusual for the Hunter’s soldiers. Almost… flashy.”

“The communicator admitted it was an attempt to frame me.” Simon rolls up the mask in his hands, slipping it on, “they needed to show the British Army I’m too dangerous to keep.”

“And they knew the SAS would send the 141 because of the informant.” Gaz huffs.

Price nods, “which they did succeed in, but it also exposed them to us.”

“The SAS wouldn’t have investigated it further if ye actually killed Ghost the first time around.” Soap grumbles, wincing a moment later when he remembered who he’s talking to.

The Captain takes it surprisingly seriously. “Correct. This is not the first time they hide behind a smaller, supposedly unconnected criminal.” he hangs his arms on his tacvest, commending voice booming in the empty streets, “the Hunter is now top priority for the 141, our orders are to eliminate them, along with any high ranking officers remaining within their army. This mission is classified to all but us and Laswell - anyone else will be treated as a potential collaborator of the Hunter.”

“What about Soap and Ghost, Captain?” Gaz asks.

Price sighs, “Ghost has escaped after releasing the civilian he captured as leverage. And John MacTavish?” a sly smile pushes his mustache up, ”he has never set foot in this city.”

Kate Laswell isn’t someone Soap knew well, back in his service. Has heard her name being dropped in a couple of debriefs, a few calls here and there regarding missions.

He becomes increasingly grateful she’s on their side, as she brings up more and more intel on the Hunter. Their main source of information is the informant Ghost killed - the man recognized several undercover soldiers moving supplies in and out of the city in the past few weeks. He knew something big was going to happen, but the SAS waved it off as a local gang.

On the day of his death, he managed to send in one last report. The informant knew his time was limited, that his cover was blown, so the message was painfully short.

‘Skull in warehouse, Konservy, game over’

It was not clear if who he referred to when he transmitted the name “Skull”, and at the time the comms officer asked the informant to repeat, thinking it was a mistyped “Ghost”. With what they know now, it’s highly likely he was actually talking about the Hunter, and their red skull insignia. Konservy is a name of a warehouse, two clicks out of the city, as Laswell quickly found out.

‘Game over’ is the agreed upon sign for caught spies.

Price and Gaz have brought out their maps, attempting to lock down the warehouse’s location. Soap and Ghost were gently shooed away after it became obvious they don’t have any more useful intel to provide.

“How’s your neck?” Ghost asks him, the two of them leaning against a crumbling wall.

Soap opens his mouth to answer, when gloved fingers brush over the bruised skin on his throat. “I uh…” he swallows, the hand following the movement, “I feel fine.”

Ghost hums, caressing the wound for a moment longer before pulling away. Soap wants to chase the touch.

He really is in over his head, isn’t he?

“Simon.” Soap looks up at the bright skull mask, “have you thought about… what are ye gonna do after?”

“...no.”

“...Would ye go back? To what you did before?”

Simon stares at him deeply, eyes closing, “I don’t think I can.” he looks back at Soap, “you? What did you do before?”

Soap chuckles bitterly, “ah, I was spendin’ my newly civvi life indulging in only the greatest of pleasures. Like sittin’ in an office for nine hours a day, or knittin’ a scarf on my therapist’s orders.”

Simon’s shoulders shake with a badly hidden laugh, “I’d like to see you knit.”

Soap grins, “oh I was a natural. It definitely didn’t have several holes by the time I was done.”

“How did you get here, then?” Simon asks, mirth still creasing his eyes.

His smile drops, words dying on his tongue, “I uh…” that weeks-old shame starts creeping back in, “was about to be evicted. Got fired, bastards never liked me anyway. I jus’ took all of my money and… ran as far as I could.”

Simon hums, shoulder leaning in to nudge his. Soap thinks the conversation is over after a few moments of silence, the both of them mauling over the words, when Simon surprises him.

“Think I’d like that… running away.” he murmurs.

“Aye? Where would ye go?”

“Don’t know. Don’t think it matters.” Simon leans in closer, their foreheads almost touching, “as long as the company is good.”

Soap feels a shiver go down his spine, eyes wide as he tries to find the joke that must be in Simon’s.

But he looks so painfully sincere, even when he finally leans away, “too bad there’s none ‘ere. Might ask Laswell if she got any tips on finding partners in crime.”

Soap lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “think they make dating apps for fuckers like ye?”

“Doubt I’ll find anyone as mental as you on Tinder, Johnny.” Simon deadpans.

“That’s because yer looking in the wrong place - Christian Mingle is where the real crazy bastards are.”

Simon can’t hold in his laugh this time, and for the first time Soap hears the way he snorts a little when his giggles become uncontrollable. It’s a horribly endearing sound, one that he wants to hear for every day for the rest of his life.

It makes his heart hurt, heavy, sinking in his chest like a death sentence.

Gaz was right.

He’s in love with Simon Riley.

Gaz went back to get the vehicle he and Price infiled with. It had a laptop, a few maps, and the most wonderful MREs Soap ever had. He never thought he’d miss that shite, but after running on a handful of oranges and a possibly moldy sandwich, they tasted like heaven on earth.

As he and Ghost had their meal (Simon’s eyes sparkled in a way that told Soap he was clearly as delighted with the food as he was), the 141 finalized their plan with Laswell. Soap could see them arguing about something, but he was far too preoccupied with eating to care at the moment.

Ghost, however, did care, “need anything, Price?”

The Captain snaps his head up, taking off his hat and scratching at his hair, “we have an angle to breach, but…”

Gaz joins in, “We don’t have intel on how many guards are posted, their location… mission will be doomed from the start if we just go in guns blazing.”

“Why not do some recon, then?” Soap wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “we’re all trained for that.”

“Too risky, the warehouse is exposed, and the Hunter won’t leave any obvious gaps in security if they’re worth their salt.” Price grunts.

Ghost gets up, walking over to the maps spread on the truck’s hood, “then we break in.”

Soap smirks at the assurance in his voice, “and that’s why I love the Ghost.”

He instantly catches the knowing expression on Gaz’s face, as well as Simon stiffening beside him. Soap curses himself mentally, feeling his face heat up in shame. He prays for any god that might listen, that Ghost didn’t take it as seriously as the truth is.

Thankfully, Price saves him from blurting out some more recently-discovered-emotions, “no other way but through, eh Simon? What do you have in mind?”

Ghost scans the maps of the warehouse Laswell has sent over, “The Hunter doesn’t know we’re working together, if they’re expecting an attack they would only expect two people - me and Johnny.” his eyes flicker to Soap’s for a brief moment, “if we split up, the 141 could take them by surprise.”

“You said they’re after you and John, Simon. If they catch you, we might not be able to help.” Price says grimly.

Ghost sighs, looking away frustrated. His head turns to face Soap, eyes calculating, “...what if they don’t know it’s us?”

“What?” Price asks.

Ghost continues, eyes still staring deeply into his, “Johnny can easily disguise himself, he’s done so before. All he needs is to cover up his face and hair.”

The Captain nods to Ghost, “and what about you, son? Everyone knows your mask.”

“But no one knows his face.” Soap answers, understanding washing over him, “but Simon-”

“I can’t be Ghost if we want to finish this.” Simon brushes fingers over the bone-white teeth of the skull mask, hand tightening into a fist.

Gaz nods slowly, “and we can’t be the 141.” he sends a meaningful look to the Captain, “this operation has to be kept secret. If the SAS learns we collaborated with the Ghost…”

“Then we won’t be.” Price walks to the back of the truck, pulling out 3 black balaclavas and throwing them to Soap and Gaz.

Price begins explaining their plan, “Laswell has gathered up a few blueprints of the Konservy warehouse. There are several key points that appear to be far too open for us to breach, all except one - the offloading garage. We’ll split into two teams, me and Gaz will take the offices and CCTV rooms, clearing the way for Soap and Ghost to infiltrate the main machinery room.”

“Our plan depends on each team watching the other’s six, we’ll have to keep comms up.” Gaz adds.

“Once the first team takes over the CCTV room, we will be able to locate the Hunter. The faster we do this, the less likely reinforcements will arrive.” Price hands Soap and Ghost a radio.

“Do we know where they keep their vehicles?” Soap asks while fitting the comms over his clothes.

“Yeah, should be around where we first enter. Why?” Gaz raises a brow towards him.

A wicked smile spreads on Soap’s lips, “might be able to set up a little surprise for any newcomers.”

Ghost chuckles darkly, “always ready to craft a trap, aren’t you, Johnny?”

“Never failed me before, Simon.”

“You can take a look at our supplies, take whatever you need.” Price looks over each of them, “any questions?”

Soap flexes his hands, adrenaline thrumming a familiar song through his veins, anger painting his vision red, “what are we waiting for?”

20 notes · View notes

sanpatron · 1 year

Text

While I wouldn't consider the drabble explicit by any means, I still think it's necessary to put out a warning for anyone who might read it as I'd consider this quite heavy material. It ain't a happy post by any means as the intention is to go over Django's current state of mind and how he's been dealing with everything in his life that has led up to this moment. No holding back. Everything on full display. To anyone who does wind up reading this, I thank you for your time and hope you found something to enjoy regardless of how it's written.

I'm in bed again. Can't be bothered to move. Can't be bothered to go out. Can't be bothered to do a single damn thing that isn't just wallowing in my own misery. I'm tired. I'm sick of everything. I'm so done with myself and this constant pain I've been consumed by. How fucking stupid of me to think I'd be allowed to be happy on this godforsaken island. People like me don't deserve that. People like me are incapable of holding on to anything remotely good. I'm so fucking naive. I shouldn't have let myself get this lost in my emotions. Fuck them. I wish I could get rid of these awful things. Turn myself into an unfeeling piece of shit. I want to be completely devoid of any humanity. There's no point in trying anymore. Let me become a weapon. That's all I'm good for. That's all I'll ever be.

Four years and counting of this bullshit. And what for? I still have no idea. I don't think anyone who's stayed long enough knows either. Wouldn't be surprised if this turned out to be some kind of sick joke played on all of us. Sure feels that way to me. What the fuck do they even need a gangster on this island for? Am I meant to do something? Am I just a tool for them to use in case of another attack? For fucks sake just tell me already! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD TELL ME ALREADY. I DON'T KNOW WHY I'M STILL HERE WHEN I HAVE NOTHING LEFT.

This is Hell. This is my eternal punishment. Strip me of everything that made me who I am; my gang, my friends, my power. Take it all away and dump me here in some fucking hellhole where I can't do a single god damn thing about it. All the talk about fire and brimstone, demons tormenting you for eternity, none of that compares to this. It's a slow and agonizing waking nightmare that I will never get out of. I am doomed to rot here, living out a mundane existence until all my previous memories wither away like my will to continue.

For a moment I decide to sit up in bed and look out one of the windows. Before me is the Cotes Ward, with the rest of the city just barely in view. To think for a while I was actually fine staying here. That I could make a new life and live comfortably. Fuck easy living. Fuck being normal. I ain't that. I never will be.

As I continue to stare out across the city, one of my dogs decides to lie down next to me. Maybe I'm crazy—wouldn't be surprised—but I feel like they can all tell how tired I am. I can see the sympathy in their eyes. They don't need to understand what exactly led me down this path. All they need to know is that I'm sad. That I'm hurting. That I'm in such terrible pain. Those concepts are easy enough to grasp. Universal, even. And while I take great comfort in knowing that they feel for me, I really don't think this is what's going to set me free.

It's honestly suffocating. I don't know how in the hell people can even deal with this shit—especially with no one to talk to. Honestly, who the fuck can I even go to here? There's not a single soul who'd get me. Nobody wants to relate to a fucking criminal of all people. Actually, why do I even still call myself that? It's over! It's done! That life has been dead for years now! Everything I worked so hard for gone in an instant. It's all a sick joke. Fuck them! Fuck them! Fuck them! FUCK THEM! FUCK THEM! FUCK THEM! FUCK ME OF ALL PEOPLE! i can't even revive my own fucking gang here without messing it all up! Jesus Christ, and here I thought I was gonna go places?

I should be dead.

Can't even fucking die here.

Can't fucking end this suffering.

Can't do anything but live with it.

I don't want to. I don't want to.

I DON'T WANT TO.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE MAKE IT STOP.

I DON'T WANT THIS ANYMORE.

I CAN'T TAKE IT.

THIS HURTS TOO MUCH.

My eyes open and I find myself yelling into a pillow. My poor dog is concerned. All of them have entered the bedroom now. I look at them with such exhaustion in my eyes. Wish I could cry it all out. Don't think I can anymore. Don't think I even know how to. Hate this. So tired. So very very tired.

I have no one on this island. I have no one who will stay with me. All of it is conditional. All of it is meaningless. There is no point in making connections anymore. There is no point in trying. There is no point in doing this for her, for myself, for anyone.

I accept my punishment. This is my eternal Hell. My prison.

I give up.

#Drabble ⚜︎#I'm legit serious btw. Don't read this if you don't want to look at smth that's basically a cry for help.#Anyway I'm just glad I finally got this out of my system.

9 notes · View notes

ulalumewitch · 3 years

Text

I’ve had this Elucien fic rolling around my brain for a while and decided to put it out there. No warnings with this one. Just angst and bits of hope for possible futures (I swear I write things other than angst all the time - haha).

Happy Sunday everyone!

Word count: 2,807

Themes: Angst/Hope

Choices

Lucien couldn’t believe it. He could not believe that another Winter Solstice ended in utter ruins because of his mate. Because of his godsdamned mate and he’d had enough. He would end it, and end it now.

“Elain!” He shouted at her retreating figure.

But she pulled the ruby red cloak tighter around her shoulders and quickened her steps. Fresh snow remained mostly untouched on small front lawns and sidewalks of Velaris as he ran from the front door of the Riverside Estate after Elain. Most families and friends likely hunkered down in their homes enjoying fires and brandies and gifts and laughter with no cause to go out walking as the last hours of Solstice crept by entering the darkest hours of night before the dawn.

The longest night of the year. The longest three years of his life. Three years of being both rejected and not rejected by his mate. And he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Would you stop,” he growled as they reached the gate, “You owe me one conversation.”

Elain stopped. Her spine snapped straight. She turned and glared at him, her eyes molten with pure hatred.

Lucien had chosen his words carefully. Tempers he could handle, he’d had enough practice over the centuries with a hot headed High Lord. He could handle master manipulators and sweet talkers. He could handle battle worn generals and courtiers of the most delicate constitution. He could handle gossipers and those genuinely interested in friendship.

But what he could not handle was nothing. He could not handle the looks that went right through him. The unanswered questions. The blank stares. The Solstice presents delicately placed to the side and left alone as if they didn’t exist at all.

“I owe you nothing. Leave me alone.”

“I won’t. You are my mate -“

“I don’t want to be your mate!”

“Then reject me and reject he bond!” Lucien yelled, his voice echoing through the silent night.

The stars glittered in the black sky, now completely clear after the fast moving snow clouds from earlier in the evening had dissipated. It brought just enough snow to coat the city white before moving on. As if the Mother heard every prayer from the younglings of Night Court for a white Solstice, and then granted their wish.

Elain’s nostrils flared and for a moment, the briefest moment, her eyes flashed an emotion he couldn’t quite place but had seen before. And it hit him. She’d possessed the same look of bewilderment when she’d still been sopping wet from the Cauldron’s waters, Nesta clawing at her sobbing. The look of knowing but not knowing.

“Reject it,” he rasped, the fight and fire receding slightly, “Reject it so that I can move on. You think I enjoy this? You think that any of this has made me feel good over the last three years?”

“I didn’t choose you. I didn’t choose any of this. I didn’t want any of this,” she cried.

Lucien took a breath. It was rare he lost control like this. He’d spent centuries honing his reactions and temperament to be the Fox and mold his features and behaviors into whatever he’d needed in order to ferret out information, or to keep his own secrets safe. But he couldn’t do that around her, his mate.

“I didn’t choose you either,” Lucien said.

She flinched, and looked away down the street. She crossed her arms and shivered. Her cheeks flushed a pink as if kissed by two rose petals and once again her beauty struck him like a slap across the face.

“I know you were in love with another male -“

“Stop it -“

“I know you hate being Fae. I know what you did to try and turn yourself human again -“

“I said stop it,” Elain growled through clenched teeth, “Stop it. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can’t take it anymore,” Lucien stated, willing himself to be calm, to stop shouting.

He needed this conversation. They both did.

“You wouldn’t know this because you refuse to ever speak to me but I was in love once too,” Lucien said and took a step closer to her, “I was in love with a female and planned to marry her. And my - And the High Lord of Autumn had her killed in front of me and I couldn’t save her.”

Elain’s lips parted in a silent gasp. Her brow furrowed. For a moment he thought she might ask a question, but instead she closed her lips and looked down at he ground.

“I didn’t choose to live without her. I didn’t choose to run away to another Court and make a home there. I didn’t choose a life of intelligence work, books, sparring, warring, and everything in between. But we don’t always get a choice, Elain. What we can choose is what we do with the things that happen to us.”

Lucien paused but she remained silent. Because of course she would stay silent. Fine. Maybe it would be easier this way.

“I chose to deepen my friendship with Tamlin and to truly be a part of his Court and I made the best of it. I chose to continue my education of Courts and history and everything in between so that I could help keep the peace as much as possible. I chose to become trained as a warrior so that I could be as strong and prepared as possible for any situation. I chose those things to make the best of my life. I chose not to wallow in the what-could-have-beens for centuries because no one can survive that way.”

Lucien took another step towards her so that they were only a few inches apart. He could see Elain’s breathing had increased slightly. Her arms tightened across her chest. But she did not move away.

“I did not choose to be your mate, no one gets that choice,” Lucien whispered, “But we can choose, together, whether we want to reject this mating bond to try to lessen its effects as much as possible. It will never go away completely, but if we officially reject it then we can at least bury it and move on separately and away from each other.”

“Is that what you want?” Elain whispered, and she glanced up at him, her eyes somehow still sparkling as if the sun reflected in them.

Lucien’s heart ached. It was the first question she’d asked him since asking if he could hear her beat those years ago. And she’d been so broken then, he could barely breathe around the memory of seeing her in such a state. So he told her the truth.

“What I want is for you to talk with me and be honest with me,” he began carefully, “I want to know why the Cauldron and Mother saw fit to pair us together. Do you know that mates are equally matched and often so is their magic, their power?”

Elain glanced away and nodded. She shifted on her feet slightly.

“I’ve done some research on it.”

Lucien leaned closer to her and clasped his hands behind his back. He didn’t need her or those obnoxious bats, whom he knew lurked in the shadows, to think he would touch her. Overbearing babysitters the lot of them, even if their hearts were in the right place.

“No one knows what I’m about to tell you Elain. You could use the information against me and spread it to the Inner Circle, or anyone who might wish me harm, or you could tuck it away for private reflection. But I have much more magic and power than anyone thinks. I only let a very little bit show in the company of others. And since we are mates, I have a theory that you are the same. You only show a small bit of what you are actually capable of and have hidden the rest away. Your sisters are powerful, Elain, and I find it very hard to believe that you would be different. I also think that one of the reasons you are so unhappy is because it scares you. I could help you discover what you’re capable of - learn about it, grow with it, strengthen it, control it, and use it. You were not given a choice to become Fae and I am sorry that neither Tamlin nor I realized what was happening until it was too late. You have no idea how sorry I am. And I am sorry that you lost the love of your life in the process. I’m sorry.”

Elain stared at him. Stared and stared.

Lucien could scarcely breathe. His heart lurched forward in his chest, begging him to tug on the bond, to bring her nearer. To touch her. Kiss her. Love her.

But he forced the instinct down. Even though every beat of his heart echoed, my mate, he shut all of it down.

“There are options other than rejection,” he began slowly, “If you would like, Elain, we could discuss it, but it can’t only be me talking. And if I’m being honest, it kills me that I don’t know you. Feyre used to talk about you all the time at Spring Court when she lived there. And over the past three years I’ve gotten bits from her and Nesta, on the rare occasion I speak with her. But those are their perspectives. I would like to know first hand, about you.”

Elain looked away and cleared her throat, “What is it you want to know?”

Hope sparked in Lucien’s chest. He tightened his hands behind his back. Carefully. He had to tread so, so carefully.

“Well, for starters, I’ve always wondered if there is anything other than gardening you enjoy? What do you like? What are your passions? Your dreams? What makes you happy? Upset? Do you have any religious or spiritual beliefs? Do you enjoy sports? Do you have a favorite season? Hobbies? Preferred genre of music? Books? I want to know about you, Elain, and not from anyone else. I want to experience you. I want to know why the godsdamned universe decided why you and I should be together.”

Elain let out a breath that could have been a laugh or a huff of annoyance. He wasn’t sure which, and it killed him that he didn’t know his mate well enough to know which it was.

“I hate winter,” she whispered and looked up at the sky, “I hate the cold. I never want to be cold again. I’ve had enough of it after living in that godforsaken hovel all those years. Spring has always been my favorite season. Is … how is it there?”

Lucien frowned slightly, “Improving at a glacial pace.”

“I remember the night Azriel and Feyre came to rescue me at Hybern’s camp,” she whispered, her arms tightening around her, “And I remember Azriel holding on to me as I held on to that poor girl and watching in horror as those beast things closed in on my sister. I thought she was dead. And then Tamlin came out of no where and saved her. Saved us. I think of that quite a bit actually.”

Lucien stared at her. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

“If he needs assistance with his gardens, I could help. I’m bored to tears in winter here and I don’t think the High Lord of Spring should have flagging gardens, do you?” Elain asked and met his eyes then.

Strength shone in them. Her chin tipped up slightly and Lucien lost his breath. A shiver ran along his spine as he realized his assumption on her untapped and hidden power had likely been correct. He did not stare into the eyes of a doe but a Wolf. Of course a godsdamned Wolf would would lurk under her skin. She was an Archeron sister after all.

“No, I don’t think so either. It might help Tam, to have his estate restored a bit,” Lucien suggested carefully, “If you ever wanted to get away from the cold of Velaris during winter, I could arrange it.”

Elain looked away again and whispered, “I’ve been so lonely. I don’t know what to do.”

Lucien frowned as pain wrapped around his heart, and realized with utter horror, it was not his pain but hers. Gods, had she been living with this?

“Elain,” Lucien murmured, “All I’m asking for is to share one meal. One conversation. I’m not suggesting we get mated or married or any of it. Hell, I’m not even asking for a date. I’m only asking for one conversation so that we can both maybe decide if rejecting the bond really is the best thing or if maybe, maybe, there might be something here worth exploring, growing, tending like one of your gardens. No expectations. Just …”

“Just time to decide what kind of choice we want to make with what the Cauldron gave us?” Elain offered quietly.

A breath he didn’t know he’d been holding rasped through his lips. His gold eye whirred. He blinked and golden light swirled around Elain hedged with blush pink and warm vermillion. She looked like a goddess inside the sun, and gods did he want to worship her. But was she worth worshiping? He desperately wanted to find out.

He blinked and his eye showed her as any one would see her once again. Lucien nodded his agreement.

Elain cleared her throat and looked down the street, “I didn’t eat. Did you?”

“Not much, those fools love their drink on holidays,” Lucien offered with a small laugh, “They’re a happy lot though aren’t they?”

Elain shrugged, “I suppose. Are you hungry?”

Warmth spread through his chest. Lucien allowed a smile to touch his lips.

“I could eat.”

“Do you think any of the restaurants are open?” Elain asked.

“You want to have this conversation now?” Lucien asked incredulously.

A smile bloomed across her face. Her rosy cheeks pinked further and he’d never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in his life before.

Elain released her arms and crooked an elbow to him. He stared at the offered arm. Was he dreaming?

“Well, Fox?” Elain asked, “Shall we?”

Lucien’s heart leapt in his chest. He closed the last few inches between them and looped his arm through hers. Suddenly, the weight of a thousand stones of grief and dejection lifted from his shoulders. His heart felt so light he could have wept.

“I know of one restaurant that will be open. It’s not the best, but it’s decent and within walking distance,” Lucien began, “And after this conversation, if you would like to have another - if we would both like to have another - then I can take you to my favorite restaurant. It is in the middle of the largest botanical gardens in all of Prythian.”

Elain raised an eyebrow, “In the middle of winter?”

Lucien grinned at her and winked, “It’s in Summer Court.”

She nodded, “I would like that, if,” and softly cleared her throat, “If we both decide we would like another conversation after tonight that is.”

Lucien nodded, “Very well, Lady Light. Are you cold?”

A small smile. An even smaller snicker.

“A little.”

“Give me your hand,” Lucien offered his free hand to her, palm up.

Elain stared at his open palm. Lucien felt a small lick of pride at how still she became, like a true Immortal creature, she’d mastered the art of preternatural stillness.

Then, she lightly rested her hand against his. Lucien maintained eye contact with her as he closed his fingers around her hand and touched the spark of fire within him. Elain gasped and her eyes widened.

“How did you do that?” She murmured, and a small laugh escaped her, “I’m positively toasty.”

Lucien’s heart fluttered but kept his tone airy, almost bored, “A small bit of magic for me. It’s a gift not everyone possesses. Not many know I can do it. Shall we eat? I’m rather hungry myself.”

Elain nodded, “I would like that, thank you.”

Lucien nodded and let go of her hand but tightened his arm still hooked around hers slightly. He didn’t bother to hide the widening of his smile as she gently squeezed back.

He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother as they walked arm in arm down the street, their tracks the only pair as they made their way away from the High Lord and Lady’s Riverside estate and into Velaris.

Lucien didn’t know what choice she would make in the end. He didn’t know what choice he would make in the end. But at least, for now, there was a sun dawning to end the longest night of the year. And he’d never been happier to see its light.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#elucien #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien #angst #possibility

262 notes · View notes

bubblyani · 3 years

Text

Mistletoe Scheme

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne/ Batman Christmas One Shot

Summary: Trapped in a Basement on Christmas Eve, an unexpected yet impactful conversation starts between Batman, and the civilian he was trying to rescue: You.

Word Count: 4.2k

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Mention of Blood.

Author’s Note: This idea came to me in an instant and never left my mind. Plus, this was a great chance to write more stuff for Bruce Wayne/Batman.I’m a sucker for dialogue. My last Bale Character fic for 2020. Started with Bruce, ending with Bruce heh. Can’t wait to treat you guys more next year. Enjoy y’all! And Merry Christmas!

Desperation. He held her tight with sheer desperation, for releasing was an option deemed non-viable. In fact, he did not wish to. He did not hope to. Not for anything.

If the end of days had dawned, he simply xwould not perceive. If danger lightly tapped him on the shoulder, he simply would disregard. Even if his head dared to crack open, he would simply let it do so. His hold on her was ironclad, and it was final.

Yet his hands, they were nowhere close to the famished, passionate nature as his lips. Those lips, that were willfully enslaved to hers, forming a strong bond that nature never dared to birth before. Sheer Desire certainly displayed its true colors tonight, and two souls were evidently responsible. Thus, he held her, in every manner possible. All in the desperate need to know her, to feel her. To make up for lost time.

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

(An hour Earlier)

The snow fall outdoors seemed barely visible when the fluorescent light flickered with speed indoors. Even the infusion of Sleigh Bells and the joyous Seasonal Music blasting out of speakers all around the city, seemed barely audible. Certainly they all would be, when one was caught in the midst of nowhere.

The beeping of the timer was continuous, until it finally halted, resulting in a deafening blast.

BANG!

The door being the pitiful victim, broke open in an instant. However, instead of falling back down, the steel door remained at a 90 degree angle, revealing a thick layer of concrete standing right behind it. The Impact Mine was simply useless, leaving Batman full of regrets.

Upon the faith of his instincts, he pasted another explosive device on the broken door. And off went the continuous beeps. BANG! One more blast. Yet, all that awaited him was pure disappointment, when the door remained unmoved.

Running out of resources in his Utility Belt, it was evident he was forced to throw in the towel. He had to look upon the truthful face of bitter reality; Trapped in an underground Basement on the outskirts of Gotham city. With no way out. Not yet, at least. With a heavy sigh, frustration had caught up with the Dark Knight, and with a strange headache making its sudden appearance, he brimmed with the urge to curse out loud.

“DAMN IT!!”

Which she managed to do on his behalf.

Turning around slow, Batman watched the woman pace from one corner of the room to the other, her heels clicking out loud. And right then, he was reminded. How he was truly not trapped here alone.

“The signal’s no good…” she said, with the phone held against her ear, “...can’t get a hold of anyone...”

Batman nodded, “Wait here…” he replied in a hoarse tone, before making his away to the other corner of the basement. With the light brush of his fingers against ears of his cowl, a dial tone echoed within his mask. A call was made. The dial tone stopped as the caller finally answered.

“Alfred?” Batman began.

“Master Wayne-” The voice of Alfred Pennyworth reached his inner headset, “ I-trouble-hearing-”

Loud static noise attacked the line with confidence. And Batman began to grow restless. The headache grew even stronger.

“Alfred!” Batman growled, “Can you track my coordinates? Alfred?”

“-Sorr-Please wai-”

With one final static to spare, Alfred’s voice disappeared, leaving nothing but a pin drop silence in the room. The flickering of the lights paused, growing slightly dim in the process. Unwilling to display his own failure, the caped crusader inhaled deep.

“I’m afraid…we’re stuck indefinitely. But don’t worry…” He grunted, his eyes lingering on the empty wall, “We’re gonna make it out here alive”

However, the woman did not respond. Eyebrows furrowing underneath his cowl seemed inevitable for Batman. Would he possibly face eventual panic from her? A meltdown perhaps? He dreaded turning back.

Instead, he heard a soft chuckle.

“Well, bet you never had to go through this before, huh?”

He spun around upon her light hearted reply, and her seemingly friendly demeanor. His eyebrows furrowed once more.

She certainly was unexpected.

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

Never in this life did her lips taste passion at such degree. However, then again, never in this life did her lips meet his own until then. Was pure frustration to blame? Was it the fuel that strengthened this flame? Or could this encounter be worthy of the term “Fateful”? “Destined” ?

She indulged it, the manner in which his lips enveloped in with hers. She was simply the hand, finally uniting with him, who simply was the glove with the perfect fit.

With her fingers lingering in his hair with the utmost care, her other hand clung onto his strong neck. She pulled him close, until any distance between them proved non existent. For the first time, she was certain of what she longed for. More importantly, who she longed for.

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

(Half and hour earlier)

Any man, woman or child that managed to encounter Batman, let alone catch the mere sight of the man, would certainly be aware of a few special traits: His swiftness, paired up with his sense of utmost mystery. The traits that shield him when his arrival was far from expected, and his exit practically invisible. Camouflaged into the darkness of the night.

However, the mere concept of getting trapped in a confined space with him, was simply mind boggling. Even for you. Therefore, your query did not appear to be a ludicrous one. Was it not?

“Well, bet you never had to go through this before, huh?”

“You’d be surprised”

Batman responded, which threw you off guard.

“Oh! really?” You blurted, cheeks flushing, “I-I-”

“But yes…” he said, “…not like this…” He added, scanning the premises for possible clues. A sigh of relief left your lips. Rubbing your forearm, you felt yourself sinking down to the dusty floor. You could not help but trace a hint of awkwardness in the air. At least in your part. You may know of Batman, but you certainly did not have the privilege of knowing him. Thus, there you both were: Two strangers trapped together.

“Guess...” you began soft, “...there’s nothing to do but-WAIT!!!”

Your cry managed to send tremors through the room. Enough for the caped crusader to spin around and freeze.

“Batman…” you breathed, wide eyed, “Are-Are you bleeding?” Perplex was evident when Batman’s lips pursed. But the moment a thin line of red trickled down through his cowl towards his lips, he finally believed your query. And it frightened you.

“I …uh..” He struggled, rubbing it off with his gloved hand. “Did you...get injured?” You inquired with concern. “No…” Taking his hand away, he dismissed quick, “...it’s nothing” “What?” Your eyes widened, ”That’s even crazier!” You exclaimed, stumbling as you rose up with your heels, “ We gotta get that checked” “No, its fine…” “No, its not…” Your instant yet commanding response was surprising, even for yourself, “Your head might be injured, so we need to-” You paused, “ Oh!” A few seconds passed, while bitter realization coursed through your veins, “…but that...that would mean-” Batman nodded, “…taking the cowl off, yes” “Crap…”

You muttered with a sigh.With your hands resting on your waist, you were nothing but remorseful. What you requested from the Dark Knight seemed far worse than the most dire physical challenge. Simply worse than leaping into a pit of fire, or diving into the oceans deep. Compromising his identity, it was a Cardinal Rule that must not be broken.

However, your concern seemed to have overpowered it all. Obstinate, you were not intending to bow down so easy. But why? Could it be perhaps, in your eyes he was the Guardian that Gotham needed? Could it be perhaps, he was a man you always had admired? And could it possibly be that you did not hope for him to die unexpected, all in the sole attempt of rescuing you?

“Okay, how about this?”

You began, “How about you turn around, and take your cowl off-Just hear me out!” You pleaded when he attempted to interject, “If...the wound is in the BACK of your head, let ME clean it up. If not…YOU do it. Seems fair, right?”

Batman stared at you with a blank expression. You assumed his silence for the worst. “No wound or cut should be left untreated. Not even yours” the insistence in your tone was shocking. What had changed you, it simply was difficult to comprehend.

Batman remained quiet. You suddenly were regretful. Certainly you were blinded with obstinacy, and did not know your place.

“Fine…” A grunt left Batman’s lips, leaving you wide eyed and relieved. His cape swished with grace as he turned away from you to sit, “You a doctor?”

“Oh no!” You let out a nervous chuckle, “…my friend is…” you added, kneeling behind, watching him remove his mask, “I’m actually in Publishing… I’m a Literary Publicist. But…that does NOT mean I can’t be a Good Samaritan right- Ah! See?” You cried out, “It IS in the back of your-Oh my!”

Silence shushed you with judgement. And you did not care, especially when blood bubbled out slow from what appeared to be a cut already stitched in the back of his head, full of luscious, brunette locks.

A firm punch landed in your heart. For you could not help but wonder: How far must his body go, in order to save this godforsaken city?

“Everything alright?”

His query woke you from your thoughts. Without the mask on, slight clarity was present in his voice, yet the gruff remained. As he was on a futile attempt to mask his sound. You cleared your throat: “Yeah…Anyways, Let me…” you muttered, pulling the silk scarf that left your neck in a smooth motion. Though your neck immediately shivered upon meeting the chilly air, it did not seem as important as this. Folding it to the thickest layer, you placed the scarf over the wound with care.

The howling wind outside reached your ears with clarity as the silence seeped in the Basement once more. A Christmas Carol involuntarily landed on your lips as you began to hum it. “Angels We Have Heard on High”, to be quite specific. Why that exactly? You simply did not know. And given the silence shown by the other party, it seemed Batman did not mind your humming.

The longer you stared, the stronger your fascination grew for his hair. For there it was, Batman’s actual hair. And you were just a mere turn away from his real identity. Was it idiotic to be starstruck by that fact? Fascination merged with curiosity when you wondered of his face. Could it be possible he was actually handsome? With those beautiful lips he bore, you were not mad to assume as such.

You shook your head all the sudden with an embarrassed smile. For ethics grabbed your superficiality by the ear with disappointment. How dare you even objectify him as such? He is a hero, not Mr. Handsome. And more importantly, why must you think so fondly of his lips?

“If you don’t mind me asking…” you began, attempting to change thoughts, “What the hell happened tonight, Batman?” You inquired, “And who…the hell…was that guy?”

“Dino Maroni…” Batman answered, his voice raised a bit higher than before. Your eyebrows furrowed. “Maroni?” You repeated, “Like…‘Sal Maroni’ Maroni? The Mob boss?” “Dino is his distant nephew…” he explained, “…estranged, from what we’re guessing. Could be that he is trying to earn a place back in the Family” “Huh…” confusion was rife in you. “…He tried to kill Harvey Dent tonight” “HE WHAT?” “Ow!” “Sorry….” You whispered, when you realized your passionate response forced you to press on his wound hard, “….So, that’s why you were on his tail…” you understood, “Until he met me-…” “-kidnapped you, more like…”

Batman was right. Tonight was filled with unexpected events. You knew fully well when you accidentally bumped into a man who seemed to be running across the street. The sight of the passerby’s panic, confused you at first. But when the sweating man grabbed you by the shoulder and placed a pistol on your right temple, the panic seemed justified. The image of Dino spitting out threats to end you, especially at Batman, remained clear as day. No one dared to intervene, which gave him the leverage to flee, with you as hostage. Batman certainly did not take long to find you. Except he met with the unfortunate fate of being trapped alongside you when Dino and his men sealed the door.

“I know Harvey Dent is not exactly ....Mother Teresa to Organized Crime in Gotham, but...” you paused, only to present an annoyed expression, “...on Christmas Eve? Seriously? When will those jerks give YOU A BREAK?”

A hearty laugh leaped out of Batman, surprising you. Amused, you laughed along. “Good point” He replied in mid laugh, hand reaching back to take hold of the scarf instead. The gruff in his voice had vanished, leaving his laughter to ring in your ears with pleasure.

Your own laughter faded as you leaned against the concrete pillar behind you. It was a wonderful surprise indeed. And with that, the luxurious desire for know more about him was birthed. Given the number of times excitement sparked in you the form of mini fireworks, it was evident your fascination for him had grown. More importantly, your attraction.

“I’m guessing you had plans...” he began. You tilted your head with wide eyes. “...before they eventually got ruined by Dino?” He finished, his voice heavy on smoothness all the sudden. Looking down at yourself, you chuckled. “Yeah…Office..Christmas...Party” you enunciated with dramatic energy, your hand smoothing the material of your grey belted robe coat. The robe coat that concealed the beautiful navy blue velvet cocktail dress you wore underneath it, along with pantyhose and heels, “Normally I never show up. But, tonight was supposed to be …” you paused, “...special”

“Hmmm?”

Chuckling again at his inquisitive hum, your eyes remained on your coat, “It’s silly…” you said with embarrassment , “I…I rather not talk about it”

“Hmmm…”

With a hum of acknowledgement, he maintained his silence. You smiled, looking at the back of his head. You sensed consideration in him, you sensed safety in him. But simultaneously, you sensed fear, in you. Fear that this would be the end of a possibly entertaining conversation. Your heart was proof, pacing quick, tapping you on the shoulder with impatience.

“Actually-” you began in softness.

“So you DO rather talk about it…” He amused, voice now almost of a velvet quality, and simply irresistible.

“Guess you ARE good at…making people talk…” you smirked, laughter erupting from you both.

“But anyways…” you added mid-laugh, “…there’s this guy…I’ve had my eye on…” you said, looking up. Batman’s laughter vanished right then.

“I mean…” you paused, with a sigh, “…he seems nice and all…I don’t know” shrugging, you continued, “I kinda thought maybe tonight I’d…I don't know…” you shrugged once again, “…make a move? Let him know I…like him? ” The second those words left your lips, a sourness remained.

“How long have you known him?”

“I don't know…6 months?” You answered so casually, “I’d see him in meetings, always around our colleagues, we never met in private…I don’t know…he’s fine” you stated, “ Seems like the proper guy, ya know?”

“So, what?” Batman teased, “You’re gonna meet him by the punch bowl, and tell him how you feel?”

“What do you think this is? Senior prom?” You giggled, where you heard him snigger in return, “And I believe there WILL be a Punch Fountain…A Champagne Fountain actually-Anyways” you said, before you lost your train of thought, “NO!…my plan actually had more CLASS than that, just so you know…” you added with pride, crossing your arms, “There’s this lovely balcony on that floor and…” your voice growing soft, “I’m pretty sure there’s gonna be a Mistletoe there”

“Are you su-”

“I AM sure! ” You interrupted him, laughter following suite. Joy was quite evident in your tone, “So hopefully, if everything goes right, I’d have him find me there, I don’t know…” you smirked, “…maybe accidentally trip, let him catch me and Voila!…that will be the moment…where our eyes would meet…and then our lips…leading up to the most…gentle first kiss ever…”

You finished with a sigh, your heart evidently immersed in the depths and the beauty of your own haven, your very own fairytale.

“Wow…heh” Batman’s voice shook you awake, “Your planning is really making the criminals look bad…” he remarked, with added laughter. To which you smiled.

“NOW I know you’re teasing…” you replied with a mischievous smile, “ I mean, come on! I could NEVER plan THIS…” looking around the chilly basement, your tone brimmed with sarcasm. Especially when you realized how you jested about the horrid disposition you both were facing.

“Well, you know…maybe with a little hard work…”

 “Oh, don’t you dare, mister!” You guffawed, “Besides, I really wouldn’t wanna see your bad side if I did”

With the laugher dying down once again, you both took in deep breaths. It certainly felt lovely.

“You really thought this through, huh?” Batman inquired with earnest. Shrugging, your eyes continued to familiarize with his hair :

“I guess…” you said, rubbing your shoulders all of the sudden, “Maybe if we’re lucky and we get out of here on time, I’ll still have a chance, But… I don’t know…”  To your disappointment, silence took centerstage once again with a smug look, ready to begin its haughty performance. Until Batman cleared his throat:

“ I know I’m a guy you just met but…” He began, “…should you even go through with it?” His query, forced your eyebrows to rise in unison. Once more, that beating of your heart began to quicken.

“What makes you say that?” You inquired, to which he shrugged his own broad and strong shoulders.  “Well, you said ‘I don't know’ 5 times already, and you barely told me anything about him”

With your mouth agape, You froze. Waves of realization crashed against the sand of your conscious. Did it take Batman, the greatest detective to deduce your hidden doubt? And did he, by any chance, rescue you from a possible regret?

“Touché” You nodded in slow motion, a few seconds later. “Wow…” You chuckled, “..I was actually gonna go through with it, with just one foot in the water, huh? Damn!” Shaking your head, you exhaled with great depth. Along with your exhalation, there exited your blindness.

“To be honest, I don’t even know if I like him. I just…” Pausing, your hands clasped together, “ I was in love with the concept OF HIM” you said, grateful of how the truth had revealed itself to you, “But at the same time…Did I just miss my only chance? To finding someone?” You inquired, heart suddenly growing heavy. Countless nights of your fervent prayer for someone to love you, flashed before your eyes, causing you to feel sheer pity, “ I mean…” your chuckle grew sad, “I’m not getting any younger…And this job ain’t easy…oh!-I’m sorry” you said, involuntary sniffing as your nose grew itchy, “I’m blabbering here…”

“No need to apologize…” A soft, and empathizing reply exited Batman, “It’s not like I can’t relate to that”

With shining eyes, you beamed at the back of his head. It did not take long for a rush of warmth to embrace your soul. The number of times you laughed at comfort, with the help of this man for a few minutes, were simply more than what you would experience within 24 hours.  “I hope he wasn’t as understanding as you…” You said, "Cause if he was, then I missed a great guy”

“On the contrary, I think HE was the one who missed big tonight…” Batman replied, his velvet voice never failing to comfort you. His kindness was brimming, yet you did not mind being soaked by it.

“Thank you-Oh!…has it stopped?” Your eyes widened, the moment he took the scarf away from the head. He nodded. Excitement danced within you as you crawled towards him.

“Great, now we can finally clean this up…” Enthusiasm was rife, while you stood on your knees,“Ugh! I wish we had some saline-”

“No, really it’s alright”

The stitches have finally dried out, even faster thanks to the cold. The need to pat him on the head, or even run your fingers through his locks grew strong. However, that need retracted itself a few seconds later. You shook your head. What on earth was going on with you?

“I do have a bandaid though…” you stated with confidence, bending to your left to reach out for your purse, “…its in here somewhere-Oh Oh no..Agh!”

The unfortunate loss of balance, forced you to gravitate to your left, falling in the process with speed. You were certain your heart would fall out of your chest. But to your relief, your face nor your heart did not meet its fate with the cemented ground. Instead, you were caught by Batman himself. Right before him. Revealing his face.

His face. Your eyes widened. His face.

With a quick gasp, you closed your eyes shut with immediate fear within a split second.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry…” you whimpered. However, to your surprise, you heard him chuckle.

“Don’t apologize…” he assured, as his voice grew softer. Unlike his powerful demeanor, the man behind the mask seemed gentler than expected, persuading you to open your eyes with care. And once you finally did, your eyes indulged the sight before you. The face that simply stared at you.

Around your age, he was blessed with handsome features, that left you breathless. With the black paint that surrounded his eyes, it was a daunting task to trace the beautiful hazel green eyes he possessed.

“I won’t tell a soul…I swear” you found yourself whispering with sincerity. To which he nodded:

“I know…” he breathed.

The manner in which those eyes sparkled, his concern for his identity had vanished. And at last, all seemed clear to you. Bravery kept you calm, as you took one of his hands, placing it over your chest. All that, in order to confirm your suspicions. To confirm that the lightning speed of your beating heart was no hallucination. The stomach acting up with tickles, your overwhelming concern, your indiscriminate joy, amidst the danger. It was evident that Magic had stumbled into you. Finally. That very moment you had dreamed of.

Moving from your heaving chest, Batman’s hand proceeded to cup your face instead. Your breath could not help but hitch. And his touch was to blame, even with the presence of his gloves.

“That Mistletoe Scheme of yours…” He began in a low voice,“…You really upset that it got sabotaged tonight?”

“Honestly…” you paused, “…now that I think of it…it wasn’t that great. So…”

“Good”

Low but pleased, his response brimmed with the power to push you towards insanity. And it engulfed you whole, the moment he leaned forward, and kissed you.

No Christmas gift would ever succeed in providing the magic as his kiss did. If your body was akin to a Christmas tree, then his kiss was simply the electric switch, setting all bulbs alit. Those delicious lips were generous, offering you all that you longed for: Gentle. It simply was the word, with his lips pressed against yours with the softness of actual feathers, awakening every inch of stimulus in your system to life. Gentle was what he promised, as your lips and his, both embarking on their own pilgrimage, to heal one another. And to spark the magic you both had missed for simply too long in life.

Pulling away, your foreheads rested on one another, releasing one long, shaky breath. And all the sudden, his face began to grow very familiar in your eyes. However, you could not place his name. Who was he?

“Bruce Wayne…” he breathed, answering your silent query, “Nice to meet you”

With a dropped jaw, you uttered your own name in reply. This was certainly unexpected. However in all honesty, it did not matter either. Especially when his sheer humanity, and his lips won your heart over already.

Loud, static noise reemerged from his removed mask, causing both of you to jump. The voice of an elderly man followed soon after:

“Sir! Master Wayne!” He said, “I finally received your coordinates! Are you alright? We’re on our way”

Relieved beyond all measure, you both shared sighs and huge smiles.

“Merry Christmas! Bruce” you wished.

“Merry Christmas!”

With his shining eyes, Bruce swooped you in for a kiss once more. Infused with gusto, Impatience had replaced Calm, while Passion had replaced Gentle. Yet, you did not mind. Not at all. Especially when you shared his sentiments to the very core.

Trapped you may have been underground, smothered with the cold. And even so, no form of anger lingered in you towards Dino Maroni. Not any longer. For once in your life, you were ecstatic for a plan to have failed miserably. For this may have been Fate’s real plan after all.

——————————————————

Tagged: @tammykelly @ladyerina @kittenlittle24 @everyday-imfangirling @lucy-roo @works-of-fanfiction @bale-is-a-babe @badsext @maddistyles17 @truly-insatiable @gooseyhouse @artsymaddie @quarterback-5 @mamooska8 @strangerliaa @jensen-impala @lilyofthesword @woodencupcake @fonduebitches @soullesstaco @spicybellinger @marvel-lously @glitterypinkkitty @danceyreagan @barikawho @lostgirl0020 @diogodxlot @elena-mayfair @xxdearlybeloved @shewearsprada @lexiespeaks @readingslumpfanfic @misterlords-fics @christianbalefanatic

Lemme know if you wanna get tagged.

Check My MASTERLIST for More :)

#christian bale #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman begins #the dark knight #the dark knight rises #TDK #td kelly #christmas one shot #dc #batfam

253 notes · View notes

animeyanderelover · 3 years

Text

This was requested privately by @headmastermephistopheles. Remember that there will be changes in the original story. I also skipped a lot in here because I didn’t want to rewrite the whole episode. I obviously have to split this in more than one part.

Warnings: Yandere themes, threats, manipulation, blood, death

Summary: Working for the young Phantomhive had always been very interesting, especially if his butler seemed to have a huge interest on you. You yourself had never been normal as well. But who would have thought that one visit in a town would lead you to gain two obsessed admirers and leading you to find out that you were so much less human than originally thought?

Pairing: Yandere Angela/Ash &

reader

Angel, hope of my life

“Holiday, Holiday, we’re going on a holiday! Holiday, holiday, we’re going on a holiday!” Why couldn’t they just shut up? Did they seriously expect the young master to bring you all along just so you would get some rest too? No way that the young master was that kind. You bet he had been just afraid to leave you all alone there to find his manor burned down when he and Sebastian would come back. He did trust you, but he didn’t trust the other three. But you decided to not tell them this, for their happiness sake. You noticed a signpost that you passed by. “Welcome to Houndsworth.”, you read out what stood on it. If you were completely honest with yourself, it didn’t look like the place you were heading to was the paradise on earth, more the opposite. Your suspicions were confirmed when the carriages suddenly stopped and you heard Sebastian speaking:”It seems we arrived at the village everyone.” To say that the scene in front of you was godforsaken would be too nice. “I forgot to mention something. The resort that the queen is planning is yet to be constructed.”, your young master told you. “Yes master.”, all four of you answered and you couldn’t help, but feel bad for Mey-Rin, Finny and Bardroy. Damn that child. Almost as if Sebastian had heard your thoughts his head suddenly turned around and his blood-red eyes met yours. You narrowed your eyes at him whilst he just sent you one of his charming smiles that would have worked on all other persons, but not on you.

Something about Sebastian had always been fishy, he seemed not normal, not human. The way he did everything always so perfect wasn’t normal. But there were many things that weren’t normal in this household. Best example were all the servants, including you, in there. All three of you had a pretty shitty past and all of you had been hired by Sebastian because of your special abilities. You had lived on the streets back then, having run off from the orphanage you had spent your first years of life in. Your parents had set you for whatever reason right in front of the door when you had been really young and the people working in there had taken you in. You had lived in there until you had become eight years. That’s when things had gotten bad for you for a rather abnormal reason. You didn’t know until today how exactly it was possible, but somehow your own body healed visibly faster than others. It was a really benefitting power, but humans were naturally afraid of things they couldn’t understand and so the people in the orphanage had started to avoid you because every wound you had gotten seemed to heal within a day. The children had started to call you witch and no one had wanted to do anything with you. You had felt lonely and unappreciated what had led you to the decision to leave.

Living in the streets had forced you to grow up faster, needing to fight in order to survive. You had learned many things from many people, each one of them helping you realize a important messages in life or tricks that had proofed to be very useful. You had learned how to fight and you didn’t want to compliment yourself, but you were a good fighter. You didn’t possess the strength Finny had, but you were athletic, smart and knew a lot of moves. Sebastian had encountered you one day when you had currently fought against a few other men on the street who had wanted to steal the food that you had honestly earned. You had been too busy with fighting to really hear what he had offered you, taking three from the five guys without much troubles down. When you had been ready to take the remaining two, they had already been laying on the ground, Sebastian standing over them. That’s when he had offered you to start working for his young master. You had refused, but for some reason the man hadn’t leave you alone, instead following you until you had enough and had yelled at him that if he would beat you in a fight, you would join. If you would have known how he was beforehand you would have never made this offer, but you had been so stupid at that time. The fight had been short and humiliating, you had lost and had joined the servants.

The whole landscape plus the city were in your eyes just bleak and the people in there have you some bad vibes, however, it was no wonder. They were probably all highly alert and leery. Who wouldn’t when a giant wolf was killing the citizens. Your young master was honestly such a liar. You just knew that he didn’t bring you here on a holiday. He had a mission and for the manor’s safety he had brought you all along. You felt almost disgusted when hearing that the people in here killed dogs just for fun. That was nothing, but heartless. You were thrown out of your thoughts when you suddenly heard your fellow servants making words of admiration. It looked like you had arrived at your destination. It was an old manor, nothing compared to your master’s manor, but you guessed that not everybody had a Sebastian as a butler. That’s when your eyes suddenly landed on the lady who you assumed was a maid for the one who owned this manor. You would have lied if you would have said that she wasn’t gorgeous. She was very pretty with her greyish hair and amethyst eyes. You didn’t know if she felt your intense staring because suddenly her eyes shifted in your direction. Her eyes widened and for a moment it almost looked like she had just discovered the most beautiful creature on earth. But she quickly pulled herself together and led you inside the house. You couldn’t stop staring at her. It wasn’t because she was pretty, but because of the...strange feeling you had about her. It was somewhat similar to the feeling you always had about Sebastian, yet at the same time it felt like the complete opposite. But it felt dangerous nevertheless.

You stared shocked at the walls in the room the maid had just led you in. Covered with heads from stuffed animals. It wasn’t the first time you had seen this, but the sheer amount of it was what shocked you. It almost looked like the owner of them killed just for fun. A sudden scream and a whipping noise made you turn your head around. You gasped when you saw the scene right in front of you playing. A man, most likely the owner of this house, was hitting the maid with a whip whilst yelling angrily at her. For the first two or three seconds you were speechless, disgusted by this act of cruelty. But the very next moment, before your master could even order Sebastian to do something, you suddenly sprinted towards the woman who was lying helplessly on the ground, preparing herself for the next hit. But the next hit never reached her because you suddenly jumped protectingly in front of her and catched the whip with your hand, ignoring the searing pain you felt. “And who the hell are you stupid little thing?! Get out of my way or else I won’t hesitate to hit you until you whine like a child!!” He raised his whip one more time threatening. But you didn’t move, instead you glared angrily at him. “You’re truly despicable, sir. Hitting a poor woman just like this. Don’t you have any sense of honor left in that pathetic body of yours? I warn you, the next time you attempt to hit I’ll attack. And I swear, I’ll give you each hit you gave her twice as bad back.” For a short moment the man looked shocked, clearly not having expected to hear such with dislike laced words. But in the next second his face twisted into an angry expression. “How dare you, you little brat!!”

You prepared to give him a strong kick in his private parts, but before he could even attempt to hit you he was suddenly stopped by Sebastian. “Couldn’t you have interrupted all of this earlier?!”, you snarled at him. “I waited for my master’s orders. By the way, it isn’t my fault that you played the hero.” You groaned before quickly bending down to the woman. “Miss, are you alright?!”, you asked her worriedly. She stared with wide eyes at you before letting her eyes wander to your hand where a red mark had already started to form. “Why would you do that and let yourself get hurt? I’m not worthy for you to get hurt!”, she said panicked and grabbed your hand, observing the wound carefully. She mumbled something that was, despite the fact that you were so close to her, couldn’t understand. You were a bit surprised by the way she acted, the panicked and terrified look in her face whilst looking at your hand was a bit off for the fact that it was a rather harmless wound and that the both of you had just met each other. You pulled your hand away from her almost desperate grip and she tended up as soon as she didn’t hold your hand in hers anymore. “Listen Miss. I did it because it was the right thing to do. And compared to your injuries this is nothing. By the way, my wounds heal faster than others so it shouldn’t take too long for my hand to recover.” You offered her your unharmed hand which she gladly took. She didn’t let go of your hand, holding it for a bit too long before finally letting go. She glanced shortly at the hand that had touched yours and you saw something sparkling in her eyes. An emotion which you couldn’t quite grasp. What was that? Admiration? Adoration? Love? Why the hell would she have such emotions in her eyes? You couldn’t find a solution to your questions because suddenly Sebastian tapped your shoulder. You blinked confused at him. “Didn’t you forget something (y/n)?” At first you didn’t understand before you realized it. “Damn it! I was supposed to help the others carrying all the luggage in!”

She didn’t stop staring at you. The whole time all of you were sitting on the table she didn’t stop glancing every few seconds at you. It made you feel uneasy, the emotions from before still swirling around in her eyes. It kind of unsettled you. Such strong emotions shouldn’t be reflected in a person’s eyes. Especially not after only meeting someone for barely an hour. Mey-Rin, Bardroy and especially Finny seemed to not notice that. They were busily acknowledging Angela. “...After all we servants go to stick together, right? (y/n), am I right?” You turned around to him. “I’m afraid I didn’t listen. What did you say?” Bardroy gave you a betrayed expression. “Come on, why are you always ignoring me? I said if Angela needs any help we’ll help her. Right?” All attention shifted to you since you were after Sebastian and Tanake the highest ranking servant in the house simply because Sebastian trusted you the most when it came to responsibility. One short glance in Angela’s direction made you feel nervous. She looked at you like your answer would decide something really important in her life. You could understand to some degree that it must be hard to serve for such a jerk, but that still didn’t justify these intense feelings in her eyes. But who were you to judge someone? Angela had been probably beaten up many times before so to finally have someone step in must had been a new experience for her. “Of course. Just call us when you need a few extra hands.”, you answered. “How kind of you to offer your help. Thank you all.” This sentence should have been meant to all four of you, but why was she just staring at you and made it sound like she only meant it for you. You glanced around. Did the others not realize how she kept staring at you? A sudden ringing interrupted the silence and Angela instantly stood up. “I have to go right away. My master is calling. Please excuse me.” Before she disappeared through the door she turned one more time around, glancing at you. You didn’t know why, but your gut told you that there was something dangerous about her. And so far your gut had always been right.

“How are your hands doing? Are they better?” Angela nodded. “My hands are just fine, but what about your hand. I’m far more concerned about that.” You waved your completely healed hand in front of her face. “Told you that you don’t have to worry.” She slowly stretched her hands out to grab yours and observed it closely, just like she had done it when there had been the fresh wound. “Perfect.”, she muttered with an almost worshipping gaze out. You laughed nervously and pulled your hand out once again. “Why are you keep doing this? You make me nervous with that.” She gave you a shocked expression. “I’m sorry! It wasn’t my intention. I was just so glad that your hand healed so quickly! I felt so incredibly guilty when you got hurt just for my sake. I’m not worthy of this sacrifice from your side!” Her outburst was unexpected and confused you. Why was she so concerned about this. “I’ve endured worse than this. Believe me, this was nothing compared to what I’ve endured in the past.” You had hoped to ease her a bit with this, but it had the complete opposite effect. “You got hurt even worse before?! Promise me you won’t bring yourself in troubles again!”

“Master! I beg you! Show mercy this one time! These people don’t deserve the punishment!” So much to promising her to not bring yourself in troubles again. Quite the serious troubles. Being tied up and needing to watch how the young master was chained to a wall just so the dogs could rip him to shreds was indeed very humiliating and frustrating. Not to mention that all of you were left. That was insane! You were being punished for saving a dog! You were being punished for showing humanity! What was wrong with those people?! Where was their honor?! Where was their heart?! You just wanted to punch these bastard Barrymore in his face. He was truly a pathetic human being and if you would have still been able to speak you were sure you would have cursed the whole village by now. So it was probably a good thing you weren’t able to or else you would have angered them even more. “Leave this village immediately and advice her majesty never to send her minions near it again.” You gave a muffled scream of protest out and gave your master a sharp look. “Don’t you dare to humiliate us all like this!”, you screamed in your head at him. But you shouldn’t have worried about your young master. When you heard his words you felt almost proud. Sharp and cruel with his words as ever. But when you glanced at Angela you noticed that she looked absolutely terrified at you. It wasn’t the worst situation you had dealed with. That was at least until you would be chained to this wall as well. Then you would have a problem. “...Get him!” With these words the dogs stormed straight towards Ciel. “Sebastian, you idiot! Where are you when we need you?!”

“You fool! Couldn’t you have appeared 5 minutes earlier?! Then we wouldn’t have been tied down! I mean, I understand that you needed to collect the evidence, but still!!” “Shouldn’t you thank me for saving your life?” The nerves of this man. “Thanking you?! Keep dreaming! You always need to make such a show!” You had actually a few more words to say, but couldn’t because Angela suddenly turned you around and started looking for any injuries. “I thought you promised me that you wouldn’t get yourself in troubles anymore!! Are you hurt anywhere?!” You slowly pushed her away from you. “I’m not hurt and apologize for this. But I did the right thing. I believe that it’s always worth the trouble to stand up for what you think is right.” She looked at you as if you had just spoken nonsense before you continued:”Shouldn’t you be happy as well? After all the guy who mistreated you was just sent to jail. That means you can finally be free.” “Y-you care for me?” You nodded. “It’s as Bardroy said. We servants gotta stick together.” Your attention was turned towards Finny who was holding the dead dog and crying. A shadow clouded your eyes. The dog had reminded loyal to his master the last minute. Sometimes you were surprised how much more humanity you saw in animals than in humans. “Humans can be so disgusting.”, you mumbled out. Angela glanced surprised at you. “I can’t believe that they did this. Of course they now know who was all behind this, but still. To let a living creature die like this. It’s disgraceful. Especially Henry Barrymore. Someone like him deserves to rot in hell.” Angela turned to face you fully. “Do you think that all humans are like this? Dirty?” You looked at her irritated. What was that for a question. “I...suppose that not all humans are bad. But all humans can be corrupted if they aren’t strong enough. But no one is born evil. That’s what I believe. Why asking this?” Angela didn’t answer, instead staring somewhere in the space with a thoughtful look in her eyes.

“What’s wrong Mey-Rin? Why are you screa-“, you paused your sentence when you saw the scene right in front of you. The cellar in which Barrymore had been kept was destroyed. The wall behind the wall was completely destroyed, telling you that something with incredible strength must had done this and the large pool of blood told you what faith the man most likely had suffered. “What...happened in here?”

#yandere black butler #yandere angela #yandere ash

55 notes · View notes

frickfrackapplesnack · 4 years

Text

And I you...Princess

I have not written in months so I apologise if this is shit.

Request: Hi, I was wondering if you could do a one shot of Geralt claims the law of Surprise after he saved the reader's father and comes back for her when she is an adult after a horrible king wants her to be his next wife. She can be a gifted healer and is one of the very few people that is not afraid of Geralt of Rivia

I hope I have fulfilled the request...

Warnings: Swearing, implied smut (I do not write explicitly)

The city was in the midst of celebration. Men, Women and children all pranced around the streets as if they had been enchanted by a powerful enchantment; the kind that once cast gave little control the those under its spell. However, the people were not so cheerful because of a spell but because of the news of one royal engagement. The King of Skellige had shown great interest in the young princess and gave great promise that once married to her, the kingdoms would unite and become an impenetrable force. A hefty promise, but one the King and Queen took into consideration. A banquet was to be held for the men who shared their interest in the princess but it was well known throughout the castle and through the streets of the city that the princess had already been promised to the King of Skellige.

His majesty had been married three times, his wives all dying mysterious deaths only a few months after the births of their firstborn; all of which had been girls. But, no one seemed to be considering this except for the princess in question. Sitting in her room watching over the town while one of the many maids played with her hair creating yet another masterpiece for her to show off to the drooling men wandering about the castle. Everything for the night had been laid out on the bed for her to put on when the time came. The flawless white fabric glistened in the light of the setting sun. One may see it as the perfect wedding dress, one fit for a Queen…but Y/N saw it as the dress that would take away her freedom. It was not a soft fabric, but heavy chains that would surely aid in drowning her if she could not give this horrid King a son. For now, though she enjoyed the feeling of the fingers running through her hair. This was always her favourited part of getting ready, it was calming and it gave Y/N time to think and for now, that was a good thing. Her mother had made a note to tell her that she would not have time to think once she was a married woman. Y/N hated the idea, running around some dusty house yelling at the maids and servants to cook and clean. It sounded like absolute torture.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Y/N questioned. The fingers in her hair stopped, but only for a moment before they started moving again continuing the job they were intended for. Clearing her throat the maid asked what the princess meant. “The engagement of course.” Y/N scowled. “To this rotten King, if you can even call him that.”

“Majesty?” the maids' voice quivered.

“I mean, the things I have heard might suggest he has no brain. I can never see myself marrying someone so stupid.” She sighed. “I have studied my whole life to become a healer, I find pleasure in helping people who truly need it; not marry someone who needs a quick fuck to try and get themselves a son!” she honestly didn’t mean to yell, but it felt good to get these things off her chest.

“Perhaps if you tried to think about the positives, things wouldn’t seem so bad” the maid commented.

“Ha!” Y/N chuckled. “There is no bright side, the only side is the dark side my mother is persistent upon pushing me into” Y/N sighed thinking about simpler times, when she was a child who could carelessly run around the castle or if she really wanted to; venture down into the city and play with the other children. But now, she was a proper princess and could no longer afford to get even a smidge of dirt of her perfect little shoes. “It is absolute hell; I have done better things in my life then stand around while the lords introduce themselves. I have healed a Witcher for fuck's sake!” it was only after she had said this that Y/N realised she had made a mistake. “Get out…” she said.

“I have not finished your majesty.” The maid said, “I have only a few things left to do.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N said “It looks fine, now get out” The maid stopped her work, bowed and left the room swiftly but not before Y/N made her promise not to tell a single soul what she had heard. She had promised the man not to tell anyone she had helped him, to keep their meeting private. For 2 years, she had not let it slip that she had been the one to heal him after he had been employed by her father, to kill a monster that had been wreaking havoc around the borders of the city. She had heard the tales, of course, the Butcher of Blaviken was the one her father was most fond of using. However, when they had met Y/N could not see how the names suited him at all. He was covered in blood, beaten and bruised but his outer appearance gave no insight to the kind of man Y/N saw him to be. He had been nothing but kind to her when she was washing away the blood and wrapping his new wounds. And when he had taken her virginity; he was gentle. So, gentle. She could remember everything about him; the way his muscles moved under her touch when she would wipe a damp cloth over his wounds how his unusual yellow eyes glittered in the candlelight. But most importantly how his body moved above hers. But, after that night she had promised to tell no one of their meeting even if she wanted nothing more than to run away with him, to join him on his many adventures. But no, she was stuck in this godforsaken castle, getting ready to marry a stupid king who was only going to kill her if she couldn’t produce a male heir.

She had written letters to him, in hopes that someone may be able to find him, letters containing her boring day to day activities and how she wished he would come to her again, beaten and bruised after another fight with a monster. Only for them to spend another night together…because that was the most free she had ever felt.

But he had never written back.

All too soon the time had come for the princess to make her way downstairs to the rest of the party, dressed in her new white wedding dress. The time had come for Y/N to drown.

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

The banquet was in full swing, drunken people stumbling about with what seemed like their twentieth drink sploshing about and spilling onto the floor and music bouncing off every wall in the room. Sometimes someone would yell and everyone else would yell back, celebrating. Every man in the room thought they had a chance. All Y/N knew that even if she had been promised to a king; not one of these fools could win her heart. King Hodus of Skellige was in clear view from where Y/N sat snorting like a pig as he consumed greasy chicken leg, laughing with the men around him about some battle he had won a few years back. Y/N couldn’t help but grimace at the gravy getting caught in his greying beard. “He’s disgusting,” Y/N said, directing her words to the King who sat next to her.

“He is my friend and you will treat him with respect.” Her father scowled down at her. “Now shut up and eat your dinner.”

“I’ve lost my appetite.” Y/N shot back “How can one be hungry when watching a pig devour a chicken?” She growled folding her arms across her chest; from the corner of her eye, she could see her mother muttering something while shaking her head. “Excuse me, mother, but unless you’re marrying this disgusting excuse for a man then you cannot comment on the matter.”

“Y/N…” her mother warned.

“Shut up, the both of you!” The King growled. Turning toward his daughter he continued “You will marry King Hodus, to secure the future of this Kingdom and its subjects. I will hear no more argument from you. Do you understand?” Y/N nodded, deciding that for now she would be silenced.

It was another hour before anyone had started to introduce themselves to the Princess, this completely useless ritual only lasted for 5 minutes however, when Hodus yelled amidst the crowd. “Enough of this bullshit, that woman…is mine!” he slurred, unbalanced in his drunken state. “You can all go home; she’s promised to me!” he laughed and Y/N grimaced at his revolting nature. He waltzed up to the Kings table reaching his dirty hand out toward Y/N waiting expectantly for her to take it. However, when she refused to take it he decided to take matters into his own hands grabbing her wrist and pulling her around to stand in front of the crowd trapped in his grip.

“Let go of me arsehole!” Y/N screamed looking to her parents for help but they remained cold and stone-faced. ‘Dicks’ she thought. Her thoughts were interrupted however when the bastard decided to bash his crusty lips against hers, pulling her even tighter against his fat body. Screaming Y/N tried to pry herself away from his grip but he was much stronger than she was making it almost impossible for her to move away as he slid his slimy tongue into her mouth. Her opportunity came when she found the strength enough to bite the disgusting invader. Hodus shrieked shoving Y/N away only for her to bump into another man’s chest.

“Don’t fucking touch me” Y/N snarled turning to see who she had been pushed into, only to meet a pair of strange yellow eyes. Time seemed to freeze as Y/N took the man in, he was much cleaner than he was when they had first met, his white hair straight instead of knotted and his clothes were no longer torn. He almost looked like a prince but Y/N knew that would be an insult if she were to say what she thought out loud. He seemed taller than she remembered although it had been two years since they had seen each other so perhaps he had grown a bit. “Geralt?” she asked, eyes wide as he took her by the arm and moved her behind him.

The King stood from his chair, followed shortly thereafter by his Queen both looking furious at the situation unfolding in front of them. “What the hell is going on here!?” The King yelled, silencing any other murmuring throughout the large room. Y/N looked from her father to King Hodus who was glaring at Geralt as if he had just stolen his favourite mirror. She moved further behind the Witcher shielding herself from the disappointed gaze of her mother.

“What’s going on is that you were about to hand over your only daughter to a murderous rapist with not so much as a second thought.” Geralt growled.

“You have no right!”

“I have every right…or have you forgotten our past?” Geralt huffed. Y/N gazed up at him confused, but he refused to tear his eyes away from the King. “I saved your life old man” he smirked.

“What are you talking about?” Y/N asked moving to his side. “You never mentioned…”

“It was not something I wanted to talk about Y/N, now shut up and let me talk.” Y/N’s mouth fell open surprised by his rudeness, he had been nothing but kind to her during their first encounter, and yet now he seemed a different man. But before she could counteract his words the white wolf spoke again.

“I am here to claim the law of surprise.” These words bought uproar throughout the room, everyone screaming their disagreements while Y/N stood shocked. ‘The law of surprise?’ she thought; ‘Married to a Witcher…who had ever imagined such a life?’

“I regret to inform you,” a voice rose above the crowd, “But she has been promised to me, we are the be wed tonight and sail to my kingdom in the morning” King Hodus chuckled. “Best you be on your way, beast.” Geralt did not falter but instead moved closer to the man who had earlier assaulted the princess.

“She was promised to me first pig.” He smirked. “Besides, you may have kissed her; but I’ve fucked her”

“ENOUGH!” The King yelled, silencing the two men. “How dare you Witcher, come into my home trying to steal my daughter away from her rightful place!”

“She has no rightful place.” Geralt replied. “She has yet to find it.”

“And you think by claiming the law of surprise she will?” The King questioned

“Yes.”

“But she is promised to me!” Hodus roared.

“Stop it, all of you!” Y/N screamed. “I have had enough of people deciding my future for me, it is my life and so I should be the one to decide my destiny.” She was beyond angry, at her parents, at stupid King Hodus and at Geralt for thinking he could just step in to save her. “Everyone can go home; I have had enough of this!” Y/N cried tears of anger forming at the corners of her eyes.

“Y/N” Geralt tried but the girl held up her hand to silence him. She had made her decision, while these men had all been bickering amongst each other she had been thinking. The options for her future and her destiny had been opened to her in ways she had not seen for years. She had a choice. And she had made it. Moving to stand in front of the crowd she spoke.

“I am princess Y/N and while you are here in my Fathers kingdom you must bow down to me for I am my Fathers daughter. And yet you treat me like a wench you can pick up in a pub. I may not act like it sometimes but I am a princess and therefore I have the right to make decisions. If Geralt of Rivia has called upon the law of surprise, then we cannot refuse him. Tonight, I will go with him, but we will not be married. I do not know this man but I know that a life with him will bring me more joy than living in a castle ever could.” She looked at her parents then to King Hodus. “You can all fuck yourselves” she growled grabbing Geralt by the hand and dragging him from the castle forever.

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

Years had passed and Y/N still wandered the continent with her Witcher, going on mighty adventures; learning how to become a true healer of many. Be it human or otherwise, these adventures had enhanced the skills that seemingly sat in a box all these years. Y/N was happy that she could finally help those in need and not just herself.

A week or so after their departure from her kingdom Y/N had learnt that Geralt had read and kept every single letter she had ever written to him, finding that he had not written back for the lack of ink. He promised her that he had always wanted to come back for her, but being too afraid of losing her stopped him from even crossing the border. On the news of her engagement however, he could not stay away any longer.

Y/N was glad he had decided to return. She had never been so happy, so free, so in love. Every day would bring adventure, and Y/N found solace in the fact that when they had a moment alone, without any danger or job needing to be done. They could lay in each other’s arms and whisper the words she had been waiting to say her whole life.

“I love you Geralt.”

“And I you…princess”

#geralt of rivia #geralt imagine #geralt x reader #the witcher imagine #the witcher #geralt #xreader

1K notes · View notes

theloreofwhatilove · 4 years

Text

She said the easter eggs 🐣 are lyrical 📝 instead of visual 👀 so here’s every parallel I could find so far 🔍

🍂 the 1

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit 🆚 I’m doing better than I ever was (ciwyw)

and if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow 🆚 if I bleed you’ll be the last to know (cruel summer) 🆚 you drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleeding (cardigan)

roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool 🆚 have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years? (lover) 🆚 I've been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night (daylight) 🆚 once in twenty lifetimes (cardigan) 🆚️ only twenty minutes to sleep (epiphany)

for never leaving well enough alone 🆚 I never leave well enough alone (me!)

and it's another day, waking up alone 🆚 and I woke up just in time, now I wake up by your side (dress) 🆚 we both wake in lonely beds, different cities (sad beautiful tragic)

🍂 cardigan

when you are young, they assume you know nothing 🆚 when you’re young you just run (this love)

high heels on cobblestones 🆚️ I was walking home on broken cobblestones (betty)

a friend to all is a friend to none 🆚 all of my enemies started out friends (the archer)

your heartbeat on the High Line 🆚 my heartbeat skipping down 16th avenue (ithk)

you stepping on the last train 🆚 we wait for trains that just aren't coming (new romantics) 🆚 I stood right by the tracks (sad beautiful tragic) 🆚 the train runs off its tracks (sad beautiful tragic) 🆚 Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train (tlgad)

marked me like a bloodstain 🆚 made your mark on me (dress) 🆚 you’re still all over me like a whine stained dress (clean) 🆚 this love left a permanent mark (this love) 🆚️ and you can aim for my heart, go for blood (my tears ricochet) 🆚️ sir, I think hes bleeding out (epiphany)

and when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone's bed, you put me on and said I was your favorite 🆚️ but I know I miss you, standing in your cardigan (betty)

leaving like a father, running like water 🆚 clear blue water, high tide came and brought you in (this love) 🆚 skies grew darker, currents swept you out again (this love)

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss 🆚 made your mark on me, a golden tattoo (dress)

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs 🆚 can't turn back now, I'm haunted (haunted) 🆚️ you know I didn't want to have to haunt you (my tears ricochet)

I knew I'd curse you for the longest time 🆚 it's 2am and I'm cursing your name (twily) 🆚️ cursing my name, wishing I'd stayed (my tears ricochet)

I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired 🆚 you searched the world for something else to make you feel like what we had (wonderland) 🆚 “what you've heard is true but I can't stop thinking about you” (style)

and you'd be standing in my front porch light 🆚 stand there like a ghost shaking from the rain, she’ll open up the door and say “are you insane?” (hygtg) 🆚 wishing you were at my door, I’d open up and you would say (enchanted) 🆚 this is the last time I let you in my door (the last time) 🆚 you find yourself at my door just like all those times before (the last time) 🆚️ and maybe I don't quite know what to say but I'm here in your doorway (this is me trying) 🆚️ Betty, I'm here on your doorstep (betty)

and I knew you'd come back to me 🆚 this love came back to me (this love) 🆚 now you say you want it back, now that it's just too late (ayhtdws)

the smell of smoke would hang around this long 🆚️ clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke (daylight)

to kiss in cars and downtown bars 🆚️ remember when I pulled up and said "get in the car" (august) 🆚️ pulled the car off the road to the lookout (this is me trying) 🆚️ remember when you hit the brakes too soon? (ootw) 🆚️ all I know is that you drive us off the road (ayhtdws) 🆚️ "I rent a place on Cornelia Street" I say casually in the car (cornelia street) 🆚️ we were in the backseat drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar (cornelia street) 🆚️ I'm drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar (cruel summer) 🆚️ she said "James, get in, let's drive" (betty) 🆚️ lyrical smile, indigo eyes, hand on my thigh, we can follow the sparks, I'll drive (ithk)

🍂 last great american dynasty

their parties were tasteful, if a little loud 🆚 it was so nice throwing big parties (tiwwchnt)

there goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen 🆚 in the end in wonderland we both went mad (wonderland) 🆚 it's all fun and games 'til somebody loses their mind (wonderland) 🆚️ and there's nothing like a mad woman, what a shame she went mad, no one likes a mad woman (mad woman) 🆚️ they'd paint me out to be bad so, it's okay that I'm mad (the man)

filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names 🆚 jump into the pool from the balcony, everyone swimming in a champagne sea (tiwwchnt) 🆚 in the winter, in the icy outdoor pool, when you jumped in first, I went in too (paper rings) 🆚️ roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool (the 1)

Holiday House sat quietly on that beach, free of women with madness, heir men and bad habits, and then it was bought by me 🆚 bad bad boy, shiny toy with a price, you know that I bought it (cruel summer)

I had a marvelous time ruining everything 🆚️ they say I did something bad but why's it feel so good? most fun I ever had and I'd do it over and over and over again if I could (idsb)

🍂 exile

you’re not my homeland anymore 🆚 our country guess it was a lawless land (dbatc)

you were my town 🆚 you’re the west village (false god)

now I’m in exile seeing you out 🆚 and I can still see you; this ain't the best view, on the outside, lookin' in (the outside) 🆚️ visions of dazzling rooms I'll never get let into (beautiful ghosts)

I think I’ve seen this film before and I didn’t like the ending 🆚 music starts playin' like the end of a sad movie, it's the kinda ending you don't really wanna see (breathe) 🆚 tried to change the ending (cardigan)

you were my crown 🆚 they took the crown (ciwyw)

I think I’ve seen this film before so I’m leaving out the side door 🆚 you gotta leave before you get left (idsb) 🆚 should’ve known I’d be the first to leave (getaway car)

we always walked a very thin line 🆚 you and I walk a fragile line (haunted) 🆚 lost your balance on a tight rope (innocent) 🆚️ I'm still on that tight rope (mirrorball)

there is no amount of crying I can do for you 🆚 you never did give a damn thing honey but I cried, cried for you (cold as you)

you didn’t even hear me out 🆚 could you just try to listen? (sad beautiful tragic) 🆚 I screamed so loud but no one heard a thing (clean)

🍂 my tears ricochet

and if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too 🆚️ and if I get burned, at least we were electrified (dress)

even on my worst day did I deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me? 🆚️ even in my worst times you could see the best of me (dress)

and if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake? 🆚️ if the story's over why am I still writing pages? (dbatc)

and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves 🆚️ loose lips sink ships all the damn time (ikp)

cause when I'd fight you used to tell me I was brave 🆚️ this ultraviolet morning light below tells me this love is worth the fight (afterglow) 🆚️ if you wanna fight, baby let's go (battle) 🆚️ now we're fighting dirty (battle) 🆚️ fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves (afterglow) 🆚️ combat, I'm ready for combat (the archer)

🍂 seven

I was too scared to jump in 🆚️ don't be afraid to jump then fall (jump then fall)

🍂 august

but I can see us lost in the memory 🆚️ hold on to the memories (new years day) 🆚️ I bet these memories follow you around (wildest dreams)

and I can see us twisted in bedsheets 🆚️ you see me in hindsight, tangled up with you all night (wildest dreams) 🆚️ and I can still see it all in my mind, all of you, all of me, intertwined (daylight)

cancel plans just in case you'd call 🆚️ paper cut stings from our paper thin plans (dbatc) 🆚️ I never planned on you changing your mind (last kiss) 🆚️ my best laid plan (hoax) 🆚️ I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans (ithk)

cancel plans just in case you'd call and say "meet me behind the mall" 🆚️ phone lights up my nightstand in the black "come here, you can meet me in the back" (delicate)

🍂 this is me trying

they told me all of my cages were mental 🆚️ gold cage, hostage to my feelings (so it goes) 🆚️ put you in jail for something you didn't do (afterglow)

and my words shoot to kill when I'm mad 🆚️ I've been the archer, I've been the prey (the archer) 🆚️ they strike to kill and you know I will (mad woman)

and it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound 🆚️ what do you say when tears are streaming down your face in front of everyone you know? (tmik) 🆚️ and it was like slow motion,standing there in my party dress, in red lipstick, with no one to impress (tmik) 🆚️ all of the moment I knew tbh

🍂 illicit affairs

tell yourself you can always stop what started in beautiful rooms 🆚️ visions of dazzling rooms I'll never get let into (beautiful ghosts)

a drug that only worked the first few hundred times 🆚️ my drug is my baby, I'll be using for the rest of my life (dont blame me) 🆚️ gave up on me like I was a bad drug (dbatc)

look at this godforsaken mess that you made me 🆚️ we made quite a mess babe (I almost do) 🆚️ I've been picking up the pieces of the mess you've made (ayhtdws) 🆚️ I'm a mess but I'm the mess that you wanted (dwoht)

and you know damn well for you I would ruin myself 🆚️ for you I would fall from grace, just to touch your face (dont blame me) 🆚️ nothing safe is worth the drive (treacherous)

you showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else 🆚️ the rest of the world was black and white, but was were in screaming color (ootw)

🍂 invisible string

cutting me open, then healing me fine 🆚️ paper cut stings from our paper thin plans (dbatc) 🆚️ so cut the headlights, summer's a knife, I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone (cruel summer) 🆚️ but I'll be alright it's just a thousand cuts (dbatc)

pulled me out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar 🆚️ dive bar on the east side, where you at? (delicate)

🍂 mad woman

do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? 🆚️ I see your face in my mind as I walk away (breathe)

no one likes a mad woman, you made her like that 🆚️ look what you made me do (lwymmd) 🆚️ dont blame me, love made me crazy (dont blame me)

and women like hunting witches, too 🆚️ theure burning all the witches even if you arent one (idsb)

does she smile? or does she mouth "fuck you forever"? 🆚️ but if I just showed up at your party would you have me? would you want me? would you tell me to go fuck myself (betty)

🍂 betty

you heard the rumors from Inez, you can't believe a word she says most times, but this time it was true 🆚️ the rumors are terrible and cruel, but honey, most of them are true (new romantics) 🆚️ ain't it funny, rumors fly, and I know you heard about me (blank space)

in the garden would you trust me if I told you it was just a summer thing? 🆚️ and I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate (cruel summer) 🆚️ I dont trust nobody, and nobody trusts me (lwymmd)

I don't know anything but I know I miss you 🆚️ I don't know how to be something you miss (last kiss)

just thinking of you when she pulled up 🆚️ he says, "what you've heard is true but I can't stop thinking about you" (style)

🍂 peace

the devil's in the details but you got a friend in me 🆚️ it's nice to have a friend (inthaf)

you paint dreamscapes on the wall 🆚️ you put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray (cold as you)

I talk shit with my friends 🆚️ if a man talks ahit then I owe him nothing (idsb)

and you know that I'd swing with you for the fences 🆚️ lights flash and we'll run for the fences (ikp)

give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other 🆚️ you can hear it in the silence (you are in love)

but I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm 🆚️ he built a fire just to keep me warm (ciwyw)

all these people think love's for show but I would die for you in secret 🆚️ I, I loved you in secret, first sight, yeah, we love without reason (dwoht)

🍂 hoax

my twisted knife 🆚️ I brought a knife to a gun fight (ciwyw)

your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in 🆚️ even if it's a false god, we'd still worship this love (false god)

don't want no other shade of blue but you 🆚️ deep blue but you painted me golden (dwoht) 🆚️ it's blue, the feeling I've got (cruel summer) 🆚️ I'm with you even if it makes me blue (paper rings) 🆚️ my hearts been borrowed and yours has been blue (lover) 🆚️ we're so sad we paint the town blue (ma&thp) 🆚️ I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue (afterglow)

you knew the hero died, so what's the movie for 🆚️ you know the greatest films of all time were never made (the 1) 🆚️ all of my heroes died all alone (the archer)

you knew it still hurts underneath my scars 🆚️ with every guitar string scar on my hand (lover) 🆚️ you drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleeding (cardigan)

you knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score? 🆚️ but now we've stepped into a cruel world where everybody stands and keeps score (eyes open)

my only one, my kingdom come undone 🆚️ I dont like your kingdom keys, they once belonged to me (lwymmd)

59 notes · View notes

tellywoodtrash · 4 years

Text

immj2 16.11.20 lb

chanchal interrogating ishani, ki did riddhima spill about what happened that day. ishani like no dice, but imma beat it outta her so help me goddddd.

aryan coming throwing shit around. coz vansh has left everything in his will to dadi. thank fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkk. none of you snakes are worth 5000 cr. i mean, ishani is, but idk, maybe not that whole amount at once.

ishani is like THANK THE LORD, VANSH HAD AT LEAST ONE WORKING BRAIN CELL. “kahin uss riddhima ko nominee banaa dete, toh humaare sar par chadhke tandav karti woh.” snort.

chanchal telling aryan ki “vansh ke baad saara business toh tuney hi sambhaalna haina”, and lmaoooooooooooooooooooooooo ishani’s face:

i honestly love her the most. MAKE HER THE NEW KING OF THIS EMPIREEEEEEEEEEE. SHE DESERVESSSSSSS IT.

ishani saunters off and chanchal is telling aryan ki anyway dadi ke haath laga hai sab, she’ll write it all to you; coz siya is in a coma, who knows when the fuck she’ll wake up, and ishani is walking talking TNT ka khaaaaan, that’ll blow up any second now. tujhe hi sab milna hai. lol bohut hi zyaada khushfehmi. can’t waitttttt for vihaan (whether he turns out to be vansh or not.......) to come show them thenga.

some parcel came outta nowhere for mummyji and it’s filled with all the stuff of her “long lost son who got kidnapped”. veryyyyyyyy conveniently opened by riddhima.

mummy has started filmfare nom-worthy performance on discovering the relics.

there’s a letter too! basically says i kidnapped your kid for money, but when you didn’t pay up, i threw him in a river. i’m confessing all this coz i’m now dying of cancer and want redemption. sounds to me like someone watched both ‘the prince of egypt’ and ‘badlapur’ in one day and did a mashup of those stories to write this letter.

watch out meryl, viola, jodie.......... mummy has gone beyond filmfare and is now doing OSCAR worthy performance about how she keeps losing kids.

lmao i am aryan, watching this nautanki:

mummy like it’s all coz i neverrrrrrrrrrrr accepted riddhima as a motherrrrrrrrrrr, mujhe maaaf kar dooooo.

of course riddhima’s dumb ass forgave her. god, this chick just tooo easy to scam.

someone’s come to say “final goodbye”. coz he’s taken a transfer. sure.

lmao riddhima is the biggest mood when dealing with an ex who just won’t leave you the fuck alone.

is it just me or has his hair become more........... vansh-y??? like, height-wise.

blah blah he wants to apologize to everyone........... for what exactly? he said he was just doing his job, why to say sorry for that??

lmao ishani has appeared and is ready to kick kabir’s ass. omfg i think this might be my new fav dynamic of this show, ishani v/s kabirrrrrrrrrrr.

RIDDHIMA DOING NOTHING TO STOP HER ALSO, LMAOOOOOO

whole family has appeared and he’s like sorry kehne aaya tha and all and THENNNNNNNNNNN....... NAZAR PADI ON THE TABLE FULL OF ARTIFACTS.

anupriya like don’t touch my son’s shit and........

“yeh sab mere hain!!!!!!!!!”

hahahahahahahhahahahaha ishani is truly my absolute favourite character of this show from now on.

“maaaaaaaaaaaa?????? iska matlab aap meri maa hain??????” lol bohut hi bhadddda actingggg.

riddhima agrees with ishani.

kabir narrates exact story mummy did like 5 min back.

he’s giving proof ki i know the collar of this uniform has a K behind it and everyone’s shockedddddddddd ki oh god yet another middle class orphan is gonna make their way here

wow the terrible acting from mummy and beta is just.......... peak today. i can’t take it.

my question is, kabir has come to this house and seen anupriya a million times before, it never clicked for him then????? anupriya looks to be baaaarely in her 40s, she wouldn’t have looked much different when she was younger. why didn’t he recognize her then. SOMEONE USE YOUR BRAIN AND ASK HIM THAT. ISHANI, ARYAN, SOMEONE?!!!?!?!

ok ishani didn’t ask that but she’s like that kid was thrown into a river, i’m pretty sure he’s dead. and kabir doing extra naatak ki yes, i was thrown into the river but a policewaala saved me and raised me and that’s why i’m police now.

ugh itnaaa sasta acting lol.

high time this pinky and the brain team up and take the rest of these fuckers downnnnnnnn.

lmao riddhima is soooooooooooooo angry rn. she didn’t even get this mad when her fucking husband paralysed her. that’s just how much petty hatred male exes deserve. the fact that that their bitch ass is even alive and wasting oxygen on the damn planet is fucking unacceptable.

OMFG MUMMY BETA ARE LEGIT WHISPERING INTO EACH OTHER’S EARS WHILE HUGGING, GIVING SHABAASHI ABOUT THIS BRILLIANT PLAN. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. SERIOUSLY, YOU COULDN’T WAIT TILL YOU WERE ALONE???????????????????/

“kamaaaaal ki acting, KAMAAAAL KI ACTING!” lmaoooooooooooo honestly, this show would be fucking unwatchable if not for vishal cheesing it up in every other scene and making it so damn hilarious. kabir played by anyone else would never be this likable. his dialogue delivery of these lines is just A+

lmao he’s hamming some more about how he’s been searching for his mom allllll his life and today he’s leaving the city and finally found her.

LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE AROUND THEM HAS A FACE LIKE SOMETHING WITH 8+ LEGS CRAWLED ACROSS THEIR DINNER PLATE. IT’S SO HILARIOUSSSSSSSS.

he’s like mom, come with me, and she’s like “tum yehi ruk jao!” and omfggggggg the reactionsssssssssssss:

“ab yeh bhi yaheen rahega?????” alkjdsalkjdlaskjdlaskj chanchal’s no filter ways really come in handy sometimes.

kabir’s like no no mom will come with me. starts leading her out and dadi is like no anupriya is a part of this family and will not leave. and if you can live here in this house................... riddhima will decide that. lmao this should work out well.

kabir trying to jedi mind trick her.

even ishani is pleading in her mind, please riddhima no kehnaaaaa. aaaaaand....

“haan.” great.

big mood.

lmao booooooo, the amount of shit you get away with just coz you’re so stinkin’ cute. you’re exactly like my asshole cat son. just worming your way into my heart by the power of your adorable faces, you absolute bastardssssssss.

oh of course. she had this conversation with vansh, about if mummy ever found her son, he’d like to welcome him into this family as his brother. sentiment mein aakar haan keh diya. BITCH HE DIDN’T KNOW THAT IT WAS GONNA TURN OUT TO BE YOUR EX WHO WAS HAATH DHOKE BEHIND HIS GODDAMN LIFE. IF HE DID, HE WOULDN’T HAVE THOUGHT TWICE BEFORE PULLING THAT UGLYASS GOLDEN GUN ON HIM AND SHOOTING HIM BETWEEN THE EYES.

this is a sweet scene and all but dude how the fuck am i supposed to overlook the fucking ugly beetlejuice suit. if i never have to see this godforsaken garment ever again, it’d still be too soon.

also jesus, were you a goddamn kid just 10 years ago, COZ HOW ELSE THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE A MINION WATERBOTTLE FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD?!!?!?!?!! OH GOD YOU GUYS, IS VANSH JUST 19 YEARS OLD OR SOME SHIT, AND THE BEARD AND THE VOICE THREW US OFF INTO THINKING HE’S 30?!?!?!?!?!!?! OH MY GOD, I FEEL LIKE A PEDO NOW. 28 IS MY LIMIT ON HOW YOUNG I’LL GO FOR WHEN I LUST AFTER SOMEONE.

anyway i’m fwding this scene so that my mind won’t dwell on these horrible possibilities. and that horrible fucking outfit.

lmao riddhima is like kaash tum yahaan hote, tum bhi yehi karte. snort, okaaaay sis.

“tumhari riddhima hoon main. aur hamesha wohi karoongi, jo agar tum hote toh karte.” ok everybody start monitoring your drinks from now on. pata nahi kab kya mila de yeh madam vansh 2.0.

ishani is, how you say................ LOSING IT.

ahahahahahahahahahaha aryan, who's going to town on the punching bag, is like i already picture him here, hence the vigorous mid-day cardio.

“mera toh mann kar raha hai ki main 2-4 jamaa ke aaoon. kabir ko nahi, uss riddhima ko!!!!!!!!” The Biggest Mood, Ever.

“pehle woh bhai ki tarah sochna toh seekh le?!?!?!?” bhai ki tarah chodo, pehle BAS SOCHNA HI SEEKH LE, WOHI BOHUT HAI.

ishani like i’m sureeeeeeeee kabir found out the story about mom’s missing son and now that vansh isn’t here, wormed his way into the house. PRESENTING TO YOU, THE ONLY ONE WITH A BRAIN IN THIS HOUSEEEEEEEEEEE. THE FACT THAT VANSH SLEPT ON HER AS A FUCKING PILLAR TO THIS HOUSE IS FUCKING RUDE.

“yeh sab kuch hua hai uss stuuuuupid riddhima ki wajah se!” that’s what they should call the show.

ew kabir is in riddhima’s room and getting all touchy and LIKE BACK THE FUCK OFF MAN. SERIOUSLY, YOU GOT WHAT YOU WANTED, NOW GO HANG OUT WITH YOUR MOM ALL DAY LONG, INSTEAD OF ACTING SKEEZY.

yeah riddhima pretty much told him that. threw in some more shit about how she’ll hate him till she dies, coz he’s the reason vansh died.

he doesn’t look happy about that. this fucker still wants herrrrrrr. ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. kabir yaaaaaaaaaaaaar, you can do so much bettterrrrrrrrrrr. get yourself an hot evil shawty with 4+ brain cells dude!

she’s dragging him out. nice.

kabir still talking and she’s like do i literally have to kick your ass out?????? damn girl, there’s the spine i like to see.

askljdaslkjslkdjlaskdjlaskdj he’s like main bhi vansh jaisa hoon, iss ghar ka beta hoon. lmao good you said this in front of riddhima and not ishani, warna ***** phaad ke tumhare haath mein de deti.

riddhima also handing it to him, but verbally. but it’s lameass shit like no you’ll never be like vansh, not in 7 janam. like, ok i get she’s really mad at him for what happened, but i don’t get what’s this sudden hatred of his personality?????? she doesn’t know the whole truth and abhi se itni nafrat??? based on what?????

lmao he muttered “woh toh waqt hi batayega” as he was leaving and she’s like BITCH WHAT YOU SAY?!?!?!?!?!?!

hee hee hee hee. i loveeeeeee when he makes his exasperated faces.

some more sweet talk about how she’ll see his intentions aren’t bad at all, and she’s like justttttttttt gtfo my room man.

"kahin kabir ko yahaan rehne ki permission dekar kuch galat toh nahi kar diya???” LMAO YA THINK?????????????????????/

haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaye. finally. aankhein taras gayi thi.

bro refusing more shady work coz “abhi mere paas chote-mote kaamon ke liye time nahi hai. kuch bada plan kar raha hoon.”

mmmmmmmmmmmm baby what that mouth do??????

“vansh ki body ka toh main antim-sanskaar main kar chuka hoon.” ohohohohohohohoho symbolism samajhhh rahe ho aap loggggg???? new identity, who disssssssss waala scene hai.

“riddhima vansh rai singhania, main aa rahaa hoon.”

oh aaja, aha aaja, aha aaajaa, ah ah aaaaja, ah aa aaaja, aha ha aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

#ishq mein marjawan 2 #immj2 #immj2 lbs #episode liveblogs

18 notes · View notes

buckthegrump · 5 years

Text

Whenever You’re Ready

Summary: Bucky lost the love of his life three years ago and he’s still trying to figure out how to deal with that. But that gets harder when he gets an unexpected visitor.

Warnings: Mentions of death, angst, so much angst, fluff, a whole lot of feelings y’all

Word Count: 6.2k

A/n: I had this thought and needed to write it

“I’m sorry, sir,” the officer said, “We have reason to believe that -”

Bucky stopped listening after the officer said ‘I’m sorry’. The words ‘I’m sorry’ were never followed by good news. Or even just neutral news, it’s almost exclusively followed by bad news. Especially when the ‘I’m sorry, sir’ comes from a doctor or a police officer.

But it didn’t matter that Bucky had stopped listening because he knew what they were about to say. They were going to tell him that they couldn’t find her body and that they were presuming her dead. But she couldn’t be dead. Y/n had promised that she wouldn’t die on him.

“We also lost his trail,” the officer finished.

“What?” Bucky’s head snapped up.

“He disappeared.”

* * *

Bucky sat up. The room was dark and silent. He glanced at the clock already knowing what time it was 1:35 am. The exact time that he was told that his fiance had been killed. No, not killed. Murdered.

It was the same dream, same memory, every year on the same day and he woke up at the exact same time. He was positive that no matter how many years passed it would be the same. He didn’t know if it would be worse if it was a happy memory that reminded him of what he was missing, or if he should be glad he was stuck with the worst night of his life.

The dream happened for months after and then it slowed to once a month until it only happened on the day.

He could roll over and try to fall back asleep but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to. He threw the covers off of him exposing his legs to the cool air of the room. He got up and made his way to the bathroom.

The water from the shower was as hot as it could possibly be. The hope was that it would get so hot it would burn away the pain, but nothing he tried was taking away the pain. The grief group he went to was just starting to make the pain a little less but -

Hours passed and the once nearly boiling water turned to ice against his back. All he wanted was to stay in the shower but he was meeting friends soon.

At 9:30 Bucky got into his car and drove to the cafe. Sam and Steve were waiting for him when he walked in. His friends decided that day when Bucky found out that he shouldn’t be alone on that day and so every year on that day, they would take the day off and spend all day together.

Sam was the first one to spot Bucky, he smiled and waved.

“You were almost late, Barnes,” Sam said calling Steve’s attention to the new arrival.

“Well,” Bucky said as he sat down in the empty chair at the table, “I don’t think I could be late anywhere.”

Sam and Steve chuckled slightly at this. They remember the countless fights that Y/n and Bucky got into about being late versus showing up at least five minutes early. Y/n won and now ever since Bucky’s been on time for everything.

“How are you doing, Buck?” Steve asked. Bucky shrugged. “Did you have the dream again?”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered. “I pulled out one of her dresses the other day, it doesn’t smell like her anymore. And I’m having trouble remembering the last time I told her that I loved her. But the day I found out she was dead -” he laughed humorlessly, “that day I can remember perfectly. It’s really fucked up when you think about it.”

Sam began talking about one thing or another and the conversation started flowing easily. And for a while, Bucky’s heart didn’t feel as heavy as he knew it was but it was nice to feel lighter.

After their coffee, they all went to watch a movie that ended up being terrible. It was about a man who didn’t know the ‘real’ value of life until his wife left him and took the kids. Sam leaned over and whispered snarky comments in Bucky’s ear. Bucky only heard about half of them, the ones he did hear were rather funny.

But Bucky couldn’t help but think about how lucky this guy was that he got a second chance. That he was able to go back to his wife and tell him everything on his mind, and Bucky would give anything to have that chance.

* * *

After the movie, Bucky got into his car and when he looked into the rearview mirror he saw Y/n. He gasped and looked out the windshield and then back into the mirror but she was no longer there. He let out a sigh of relief.

“What’s your problem?”

Bucky’s head snapped to his passenger seat where Y/n sat. She was looking at him.

“What?” She asked with a cheeky smile.

He turned back toward the wheel of the car and started driving.

“Did I do something?” She asked clicking her seatbelt into place. “Are you mad at me? Is it because I said that Star Wars isn’t as revolutionary as Legally Blonde? Because I’m right I don’t know why you’re trying to fight it, I’m always right? Also, do you think Firefly might be overrated? Because I have a theory that if they had more seasons it would’ve been one of those shows that started out great but then just ended terribly.”

Bucky gripped the steering wheel as tightly as he could. His bottom lip was shaking and every breath felt like it might be his last. She continued to talk like this was an everyday occurrence. Like Bucky hadn’t been slowly dying from the inside out because the love of his life, his soulmate had left him to live in this world without her.

“Ok, baby blue,” the nickname made Bucky tear up, “what is up? Is this because of the Star Wars thing? Or have you changed your mind about marrying me?”

“Never,” he whispered. He glanced over at her half afraid that once he acknowledged her she would disappear. She was still there beaming at him with her wild eyes that sparkled and her hair pulled back in two french braids.

“Good, because I was thinking about some things that should happen for the wedding,” Y/n continued to talk wedding the rest of the way home.

At every turn, Bucky was sure that she would vanish but she didn’t, she just talked and didn’t mind that Bucky wasn’t saying much of anything (which wasn’t too different than when she was alive). He was just going to see this time as a gift. Live in this fantasy for the rest of the day because there was no way that this would continue after he fell asleep.

While Bucky was getting ready for bed Y/n sat in bed and watched him.

“Wow,” she said in her best Owen Wilson voice, “My fiance is hot as fuck.”

Bucky snickered and rolled his eyes. He climbed into bed, he laid on his stomach head faced towards the ghost of his dead fiancee.

“Goodnight gumdrop,” he muttered.

“Sleep tight, baby blue,” she whispered and Bucky could’ve sworn that he felt her kiss his forehead.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky Barnes fell asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

The first thing that registered was a horn blaring past him. He blinked his eyes a few times trying to figure out what was happening. He was in his car stopped on the side of the road off of US 26. It was dark outside and he was on the portion of the highway that was surrounded by a forest.

He looked to his passenger seat but just like he suspected Y/n wasn’t there. The more concerning issue was; how did he get here? And why was it 2 am?

He chalked it up to sleepwalking and drove back home. He flopped back into bed instantly going back to sleep.

* * *

Bucky spent most of his day at work on autopilot, but that was no different than any other godforsaken day. Tony, his business partner, barged into his office an hour before quittin’ time.

“What do you want Stark?” Bucky asked not taking his eyes off the screen.

“I was thinking about something the other day,” Tony paced in front of Bucky’s desk, “I know we mostly work with veterans who are dealing with PTSD but we should set up a foundation that also helps with the spouses and the significant others of vets or people who died overseas.”

Bucky froze before actually looking at Tony. He didn’t say anything so Tony, being a babbler, started to babble.

“I mean we could open it up to everyone else that lost someone because I know that you had a tough time coming back to work, and it’s ridiculous that society puts a time limit on grieving. So I was thinking that we set those up. And before you ask yes I was a little apprehensive about bringing this up to you because I wasn’t sure how you would react -”

“I like it,” Bucky cut him off.

“Good, because I kind of already set the plan in motion.” Tony gave him a thumbs up and promptly left the office.

This wasn’t an unusual thing, Tony having an idea and setting it in motion before consulting with Bucky. Luckily over the years, Bucky had gotten good at retroactively putting things to a stop when needed.

Bucky really did like the idea of setting up another foundation that helped people with the grieving of a lost loved one and mentally kicked himself for not coming up with the idea himself.

* * *

Bucky had snagged a coveted seat on the light rail train that ran through the city. It wasn’t a subway because it wasn’t underground, which Bucky (and most of the people in the city) found ridiculous because that meant when it got too hot outside the train was only able to go so fast.

And being the end of July the annual heatwave was rolling into town. The AC on the train was only doing so much during rush hour and people were packed in tight.

Bucky was doing his very best to ignore the discomfort by reading a book, but the book was getting boring and had recycled the same plotline about three times now and he was only halfway through.

Just as he was closing the book the train came to an abrupt stop and someone fell into his lap.

She looked at him wide-eyed.

“Sorry,” she grimaced.

And it felt like the whole world froze. There was no one else in the world but them and she literally took his breath away with one word. He was certain he’d never seen anyone quite as beautiful as she, just as he was sure he would never find someone more beautiful.

“It’s ok,” he breathed. “I’m Bucky.”

She smiled at him and Bucky’s heart nearly burst out of his chest. “Y/n.”

“So,” he was very conscious of the fact that she hadn’t moved out of his lap, “do you make it a habit of falling into people’s laps?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

“Is it working?”

She chuckled softly and got out of his lap. “If it was, how do you see this conversation ending?”

“Best case scenario?” He asked and she nodded. “Exchanging numbers and dinner plans.”

She pulled out her phone, quickly unlocked it, and handed it over to Bucky. “Let me apologize for literally falling into your lap.”

“There’s really no need to apologize,” he said as he took her phone and put his number in.

When he handed it back she typed something in then looked back at him. “This is my stop. I’ll see ya around Bucky.”

Bucky watched dumbstruck as she hopped off the train at the stop. A second after she disappeared into the crowd his phone buzzed. An unknown number had texted him a simple message: Y/n Y/l/n.

* * *

The next time Bucky saw Y/n was when he went to get after-work drinks with Tony, Steve, and Sam. It had been a month since the anniversary and the next day Tony and Bucky were launching their new foundation.

Steve was telling a story about a date he’d had recently and Tony and Sam were just taking the piss out of him for everything that he’d done wrong on the date.

Bucky looked up in the middle of the story and found Y/n standing next to the jukebox staring at the options. She turned her head towards him and smiled. He blinked and when he opened his eyes she was gone.

He didn’t see her again for the rest of the night.

But the next morning around 5 am, a full hour before he would get up to go to the gym, he woke up on the side of the road again. It was the same spot as the last time. As Bucky drove home he kept his eyes peeled for any hit and runs, he wasn’t sure what he would do if he ended up hitting someone with his car while he sleepwalked.

* * *

Her skin was soft beneath his fingers as he drew lines across her skin. She let out a sigh as she slept next to him soundly. Bucky had woken up with the sun on that particular Saturday and he knew for a fact that Y/n would be pissed if he woke her up.

So he laid there with her and watched her sleep. He pressed a soft kiss to her bare shoulder and she shifted so she now she was laying on her side with her nose nuzzled into her pillow.

“Y/n, are you awake?” He asked softly. He smiled when she didn’t answer. “You don’t know this yet, but I’m going to propose to you. I don’t know when or how but I have the ring. I think you’ll like it, and I hope you say yes. God, I have no idea what I’ll do if you say no. Please don’t say no.”

She continued to sleep soundly, breathing deeply. He brushed his thumb across her eyebrow. The only time she looked this at peace was when she was sleeping, or after Bucky had shown her what she did to him.

“I love you,” he whispered.

A few seconds later she groaned and made the same noise she always did when she woke up, a small whimper that her night’s sleep was over. She opened an eye and looked at him.

“Were you watching me sleep again?” She asked in a hoarse voice. Bucky h’mmed in response. “You fuckin’ creep.”

“Oh yeah, because I’ve never caught you watching me sleep,” he chuckled.

“Uhh, when I watch you sleep it’s to make sure that you’re still breathing. Some times you’re sleeping so deeply I’m afraid that you’re dead,” she argued fully awake now. “Please don’t die on me.”

Not caring that neither of them had brushed their teeth yet, he kissed her lips softly. “I won’t as long as you promise to wait until we’re both well into our 80s or 90s.”

“Deal, but I hope you know that when I do die, I’m going to come back and haunt your ass so you’ll never actually be able to get over me and date someone else. I’m selfish like that.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” Bucky admitted.

“Well, when you say things like that it makes me feel bad for finding Sam really attractive. I hope you know that if you break your promise, I’m definitely turning to him for comfort and then we’ll fall in love and have a million babies,” she teased.

“Oh, a million babies?”

“Oh yeah, one million babies, and they’d be so much cuter than any babies you and I would have.” She smiled smugly until Bucky poked her sides and started tickling her. She giggled. “No!”

“Take it back!”

But she didn’t she just kept laughing and swatting at his hands. After a minute or two, he stopped and kissed her again. He paused and looked at her, really looked at her in the morning sunlight that peaked through the drapes of their bedroom window. He leaned over to his nightstand and opened the drawer and dug around for something.

“What are you doing?” She sat up and leaned against the headboard. Bucky turned around holding a ring. It was simple enough, it was a white gold band with a blue sapphire with two smaller diamonds on either side of it but the gems on the ring were huge. “What are you doing?” She repeated.

“I have been waiting for the right time, the perfect time to do this but I realized that when doesn’t matter. The perfect time wouldn’t make a difference, what matters is the person. You might not be a perfect person but neither am I, but you are the perfect person for me. So Y/n, I’m breaking one of your rules and asking you a question before breakfast,” he extended his arm slightly so the ring was closer to her, “Will you marry me?”

Y/n gasped shakily as tears welled up in her eyes. “Yes, of course!”

Bucky took her left hand and slid the ring on her finger, thanking the heavens that it fit. He stared at the ring as it sat on her finger.

“Are you not going to kiss me or anything?” Y/n asked snapping Bucky out of his daze.

“Neither of us have brushed our teeth and your morning breath is so bad -”

“My mom just called, she says that I can’t marry you.”

Bucky shook his head at his fiancee. “Shut up,” he chuckled and kissed her.

* * *

One Saturday, early January, Bucky was eating his cereal staring at Y/n or her ghost or whatever she was.

“Can I help you?” She asked cocking her head to the side.

“Are you a ghost?” He asked.

“You already know what I am, Barnes,” she answered solemnly. “You’re just afraid of what it means if you’re right.”

“But if you’re a hallucination,” his voice broke as he spoke, “that means you’re not real.”

“If I was real then you wouldn’t be keeping the fact that you can see me a secret?” She leaned back in her chair.

“I could just have a fever,” he reasoned.

“You’ve been seeing me off and on for months. If your fever had lasted this long you’d probably be dead,” she propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand.

“So what’s wrong with me?” He asked, cereal long forgotten.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged then gasped. “Maybe I’m a vision from a god or some higher power. Here to tell you that you’re missing something.”

“But what would I be missing?” Tears began to fall down his face.

“Do you not miss me?”

“I miss you every goddamn day but there’s not much I can do about that.” There was a brief silence and Bucky found himself wishing that she was actually something he could touch, not an uncommon wish for him. “I should go see a doctor, shouldn’t I?”

Y/n gave him a sad smile and Bucky pulled out his phone.

* * *

Y/n was sitting on the couch with Bucky, her legs on his lap and he was going over something that Tony had sent him. Bucky was petting her legs.

“Why are you petting my legs like a dog?” She asked pulling one of her headphones out of her ear. “You know I’m not into pet play.”

Bucky stopped his movements and glared at her. “Must you make everything dirty?”

She grinned. “Yes.”

Bucky shook his head and put the stack of papers down on the coffee table. He crawled over so his head was on Y/n’s stomach without missing a beat she started running her fingers through his hair. He moaned at the feeling and closed his eyes.

“What are you listening to?” He asked his voice muffled but the fabric of her shirt and her tummy.

“The podcast My Favorite Murder,” she said. “If you just gave it a chance you might enjoy it.”

“Why are you so obsessed with true crime?”

“Well if I’m prepared for it then I have a better chance of surviving and listening to how fucked up people are, helps me learn what to do if I’m ever in that situation.”

He chuckled softly, he lifted his head and looked at her. “You realize the chances of you getting murdered are very slim right? Besides, I’ll protect you if that ever becomes a real possibility.”

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes, “You’re very strong and manly. Will you please just listen to this one story about people who live on an island and one of the couples shares a pair of stainless steel teeth?”

Bucky didn’t really have that much of an interest in true crime, but he’d be lying if he said that story didn’t sound interesting.

“Fine, but just that one story,” he said, “You’re not going to hook me on this.”

He lied, she got him hooked on that podcast and any time they came out with a new episode they either listened to it together or texted the other if they were apart.

* * *

Bucky was listening to the podcast that Y/n had gotten him hooked on. He was sitting in the waiting room for the doctor and Y/n was in the chair across from him watching him closely. He was doing his best to just listen to the podcast but her stare was making that hard.

“Barnes?” A nurse called.

Bucky sprung up from his seat and followed the nurse back into the exam room.

“Bucky Barnes,” the doctor greeted when she walked in.

“Dr. Cho,” Bucky greeted.

“What seems to be the problem?” She asked settling into the office chair in the room.

“I keep seeing my dead fiancee,” he said bluntly.

Dr. Cho pursed her lips and nodded her head. “Are you sleeping well?”

“Yeah,” he said completely forgetting about the sleepwalking he’s been doing.

“How long has it been going on?” She asked making a note in her chart.

“It’s off and on for a few months.”

“But not all the time?”

“No.”

Dr. Cho sighed. “Well, it might be a psychological thing if that’s the case the next plan of action would be to see a psychiatrist.”

“And another option?” Bucky asked though he already knew the answer.

“That you have some sort of brain tumor,” she answered and Bucky’s entire body sagged, “So I will schedule you for an MRI, but I would also like fo you to talk to someone.”

Bucky nodded silently agreeing with her.

After he got home that day he looked into some highly rated therapists and when he talked to his friends about it they all had suggestions for him.

* * *

The hauntingly familiar sound of a horn blaring startled Bucky awake again. He was sitting in his car that was idling with the radio playing quietly. The clock in his car told him it was 4 am. When he looked around he noticed that it was the same part of 26 that it usually was.

He really needed to find a way to stop himself from sleep-driving.

* * *

The room was eerily quiet. Bucky picked at his jeans pretending to rid them of pieces of fluff that didn’t exist. He’d been sitting in this room for almost half an hour silently, other than the initial hellos.

“You won’t know if this works until you talk to me and we are able to start a discussion,” Maria Hill, his new therapist told him.

“I know, I just don’t know where to start,” he said.

“Start from the beginning.”

So he did. He told her the story of how he met Y/n and falling in love with her and then proposing. He only wavered a bit when it came to the birthday party he’d planned for you.

* * *

“Are you sure you sent her the right time?” Natasha asked.

“Yes,” Bucky answered.

Natasha had asked that question about five times and it didn’t matter that Bucky had shown her the text that said he’d told Y/n to meet him at the restaurant at 6:30. Nor did it matter that Y/n had texted at 5 saying ‘hey love, I’m going to be a little late the meeting is running long and I still have to talk to some people afterward.’

No, none of that mattered to Natasha who was nervous that Y/n would hate the surprise.

Bucky had set up a dinner for Y/n’s birthday. She thought it was just going to be her and him but Bucky had also invited all their friends because Y/n had started complaining that they didn’t all hang out together anymore.

Natasha was th only one who was worried for the first ten minutes of Y/n not showing up. After that everyone started to get more and more concerned about her unusual tardiness. Until they all decided to call the cops.

* * *

“They didn’t believe us at first,” Bucky told Maria. “They said that we had to wait 48 hours before we could officially file a missing person’s report. But we knew. It didn’t matter to them that Y/n was never late and if she was she would’ve called or texted. They thought she was running from me.”

Maria was quiet as Bucky took a tissue to blow his nose.

“They never found her body either, isn’t that just a kick in the nuts?” Bucky laughed sardonically. “And the last thing I told her to her face was ‘just so you know you lost the game’ which might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Maria gave him a confused look. “The game?”

“It’s this thing where once you start playing the game you can never stop and the way to win the game is by not thinking about it but once you think about it you’ve lost the game,” Bucky explained.

“That’s counter-intuitive.”

“That’s the game.” Bucky shrugged. “I’ve also been seeing her.”

“Natasha?”

“No, Y/n. Not all the time but sometimes. We talk and I know it’s crazy but I like being able to talk to her again.” Bucky bounced his leg as he thought for a moment. “I’ve also been sleepwalking. More like driving.”

“What?” Maria looked shocked.

“Not all the time, but sometimes I’ll wake up to find myself in my car stopped on the side of the road. It’s the same spot every time, I never hit anyone or anything as far as I can tell.”

“Well, there are ways to get around sleepwalking maybe have a friend spend the night to stop you from getting into your car, set up an alarm system, I can send you a list of what some of my other clients have found helpful.”

* * *

A week after his therapy appointment Bucky was in the hospital for his MRI.

It wasn’t until he was in the machine when he heard her voice.

“I hope you still have that amazing insurance because MRIs are not cheap,” she said and Bucky held back the urge to roll his eyes, “Are you ignoring me because you don’t want to look crazy in front of the doctors? Because you know that they know why you’re here right? They already know you’re crazy.”

As Bucky lay there for the rest of the scan Y/n sang a song that had been stuck in Bucky’s head for the past week. When he came out of the machine she was standing there in the corner of the room. He didn’t say anything but he made eye contact with her.

“You’re still missing it,” she said. He furrowed his brows at her. “Bucky you’re missing it.”

An hour later Bucky was sitting in front of a neuro doctor.

“There’s nothing showing up on the MRI,” Dr. Banner told him, “Medically? You are fine, Mr. Barnes.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

* * *

It happened again. He woke up on the side of the road in his idling car. But this time the sun was just beginning to rise. Bucky slammed his hands against the steering wheel before turning his car around to head back home.

He was about halfway home when something realized something. It was what Y/n had told him about missing something.

Every time he’d woken up on the side of the road it was after he’d seen Y/n. That’s the only time he’d sleepwalked was the night after all of the hallucinations. Which made him wonder, why that particular spot?

He could’ve gone home and just ignored his thought for the rest of the day but that might actually kill him.

He flipped a u-y and drove back to the spot. He pulled over on the shoulder. When he got out of the car he took a few deep breaths.

Not really knowing what he was going to find or if he was going to find anything be began walking through the forest.

“This is the part of the horror movie where I die because I’m walking through a forest because a hallucination told me to. If Y/n could see you now she’d kill you for being stupid. Also if you get murdered they are definitely going to make fun of you on all the podcasts for being a complete idiot,” he mumbled to himself as he stumbled through the foliage and brush of the forest floor.

He walked for about a mile or two before he came across a small cabin in the middle of nowhere.

“What the hell?” He whispered to himself.

Then someone from inside the cabin let out an ear-piercing scream. Bucky finally had a logical thought and pulled out his phone to call 911. They told him to stay on the phone with him and they were sending units to him.

The screaming had stopped and Bucky almost went into the cabin. It was only a few minutes later when he heard the sirens and the officers came and two pairs walked over to the cabin and went in. Bucky was standing next to an officer who was told to wait with him.

There was a gunshot, not long after one of the officers made a call over the radio for an ambulance because there was a girl in the cabin who needed medical attention.

The officer that hung around with Bucky took his statement as they waited for the ambulance. Giving the statement to the officer was a blur and he tried to find a way to tell the officer that visions of Y/n had led him here without actually telling him that.

When the EMTs made it through the forest the ‘girl’ was escorted out of the cabin and Bucky’s heart dropped. There was a woman walking with the officer who looked so much like Y/n but her hair was unkempt and looked like she hadn’t eaten in years.

But then her eyes met his.

“James?”

“Y/n?” He asked and his voice broke. Bucky didn’t wait for her to answer again as he ran over to her, how he managed not to trip over anything was a mystery to him. He stopped right in front of her. “Is that really you?”

Y/n let go of the officer and lifted her hands to his cheeks. She gently touched his face and he leaned into her touch. He was almost sure that at any moment he was going to wake up from this dream to an empty bed.

“You found me,” Y/n whispered before collapsing into Bucky’s arms.

* * *

Bucky sat next to her hospital bed and watched her. He was afraid that she would disappear. But he could touch her, he could feel her again. But he wouldn’t. Not until she made the first move, he wouldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do, he didn’t even know what’d happened in there.

The detectives that had come around informed him that any number of things could’ve happened during those three years and she would be a very different person now. That she would need countless hours of counseling.

Y/n had been unconscious since she fainted outside the cabin. Bucky knew he should call everyone, tell them that Y/n was alive, but he also knew that they would all want to come and see her so he settled for the two people who needed to know. Tony, because there was no way in hell Bucky was going into work today or anytime this week. And Natasha, because Nat would kick his ass if he kept this from him.

Everyone else could wait until Y/n woke up and was ready for visitors.

* * *

Natasha had come in an hour after Bucky called and cried into his shoulder. She’d stayed for a while before Bucky told her to go home and that he would call her the instant Y/n woke up. Natasha had been reluctant at first but agreed because it didn’t look like Y/n was going to wake up anytime soon.

Which wasn’t true because an hour after Natasha left Y/n’s eyes fluttered open. She looked over to find Bucky wide awake watching her sleep.

Y/n gave him the smallest of smiles that somehow still took his breath away.

“You were watching me sleep,” she croaked.

“I thought you were dead -” he stared and had an apology on the tip of his tongue but she cut him off.

“Don’t apologize for not looking for me,” she ordered.

“But -”

“No,” she said firmly. “You were working with what you had.”

“How ok are you? Scale from one to ten.”

“If one is I’m dead, I’m gonna go with a one-point-five.” A tear fell from her eye and Bucky wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. Her lip began to tremble. “Um, he uhh -”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Bucky cut her off. “Not yet.”

There was a silence that Bucky didn’t know if he should fill or not. He knew what he wanted to tell her, but he wasn’t sure if he should if it would be what she wanted to hear.

“I’ll understand if you don’t want me anymore,” she told him. “I know that three years isn’t really a long time but if you don’t -”

“You can’t get rid of me that easy, gumdrop,” he told her and a sob escaped her lips. “I’d go get you another ring tonight. I meant what I said when I told you that you are the perfect person for me. And I still want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“But baby blue, I’ve changed. I’m not the same person I was. I’ve done things -”

“Y/n, neither of us are the same person we were three years ago. And whatever you did, kept you alive,” he said, he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. “So yeah, we have some stuff to work out but my heart belongs to you and you alone. And I’m not giving up on you.”

Y/n reached out her hand for Bucky and he took it. Her frail hands wrapped around his one, they were cold. He could only imagine the rest of her body was just as cold.

“You still wanna marry me?” She asked softly.

“Do you still want to marry me?” He pulled over a chair not removing his hand from hers and sat down.

She nodded. “But I’m not ready to. Does that make sense? Like, I wanna be ready.”

“I would wait forever for you,” he told her.

“So you lied,” she sighed and he furrowed his brows at her. “Clearly, you couldn’t have changed that much you’re still the cheesiest person on the face of the planet.”

Bucky scoffed and pressed a gentle kiss to her hand. “Promise me you’ll let me know if you don’t want me to do something. Like if I touch you in a way you don’t like, you have to let me know. I never want to be the reason you’re in pain.”

“Ok,” she whispered. “Where’s everyone else?”

“I only called Natasha and Tony today because I wasn’t sure how you would react to a room full of people wanting to see you. I can call them if you want and get them here.”

“Not yet, I haven’t seen you in three years,” she played with his fingers. She hadn’t let him go as if she had been touch starved for so long.

“Ok, whenever you’re ready.”

And yes they had things that they would have to work out together and individually, but Bucky meant it when he said that he wasn’t going to give up on her.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes AU #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #death tw #mentions of death

468 notes · View notes

talltales · 4 years

Photo

—OPEN CHARMS ARE LOST ON VELVET; M'AIDEZ THIS MY M'AIDEZ, M'AIDEZ THE HIGHER WE CLIMB THE SMALLER WE SEEM, MAD WITH POSSIBILITY request by @jjpmoans!!

la faim, la soif et la chaleur vont de pair.

despite the unspoken prayer she hears on the tongues of friends and strangers alike; uttered into the unrelentingly humid and overly bright september days, summer lingers. the asphalt burns beneath the soles of her flip-flops; housing heat that wraps around her ankles and clings with heavy tendrils she can feel as she walks.

“maybe we’ll see rain.” the elderly man sitting in front of an abandoned playground says as she passes, his eyes never leave his paper. he flips to the next page, unperturbed by the sunlight bearing upon his hands. the band of his broken watch gleams in the light as he moves.

sweat drips down her back, beneath her shirt and she thinks, maybe.

maybe.

she, like everyone else making their way home, moves quickly and keeps a healthy distance between herself and the nearest warm body. the occasional blast of air conditioning coming from the odd doorway provides welcome relief, if only for the second it takes to pass the threshold.

it’s a luxury that most can’t afford; many of the residents have resigned themselves to languishing under the heat, aided only by bottles of lukewarm water and half-price ice cream cones offered every other block.

the slums are named so for a reason.

the air carries the scent of the odd perfume—vanilla and berries—and something unmistakably human. however hellish it is, there is something beautiful about the cracked city streets and the aged buildings flanking them; tinted in hues of gold-peach and stretching into the clear sky.

they, like the people themselves, stand in open defiance of time and the inherent neglect that comes with existing in such a wretched place.

she finds the thought is strangely satisfying—a boon that holds the faintest smile on her lips as she ducks into the next set of open doors with a passing glance at the fire escape climbing the side of the building. faintly, she spots a wisp of gray-white smoke curling out from a window; a peek of faded denim.

her smile grows into a grin.

the foyer is long disused, an enduring artifact of times past. silently, she ghosts her hand over the notched desk where a door-keeper might have made his living and slips into the old, caged lift. the fractured button beneath her fingertip flickers to life when she pushes it—shining dimly in the shade of the elevator shaft towering above her head. her ride to the fifth floor is quiet, punctuated only by the mechanical clank and groan of the structure as it rises.

as the pen slides open—none too quickly—she tugs her keys from her pocket and finds the right one with the tips of her fingers. the rest jangle uselessly outside of her grip, swinging against the back of her hand. her only guide to the door is memory and the cool, hazy light filtering in through the dust-covered window at the end of the long hallway.

his door—last on the left, beside a strangely thriving pot of lilies—stands out like a beacon; painted in shades of red with a chipped number 9 hanging perilously from a loose nail. she slots the key in and turns it, breathes a sigh as the—barely—cooler air fans outward in a pleasant mimicry of a spring breeze.

“i could almost fool myself into thinking you had air conditioning,” she calls out, because she knows that he’s there; can smell him in the air—amber and smoke—and hear the sound of him shifting beneath the tinny acoustics playing on his radio.

“that illusion will fade with time,” jinyoung retorts, from his perch on the windowsill. he rests against the frame, half on the fire escape with a cigarette held loosely between his fingers. she watches as he takes a drag and sends another column of smoke spiraling into the air, “trust me on that.”

she kicks her sandals off and steps into the space proper, with interlaced fingers resting atop her head, “i believe you, but it’s hell out there.”

her path to him is a winding one. she skirts around the coffee table where his half-dissembled vhs player sits abandoned—another unfinished project taken up in his spare time—and picks up the glass of ice water sitting on the edge. the condensation trails over her fingertips, providing some relief from the thick heat rolling through the open window.

the air is fresh, at least.

“have you been there all morning?” her eyes slide down, taking in the picture he makes with interest. jinyoung has never been overly fond of clothes; many of his afternoons are spent wandering his apartment shirtless, and that much hasn’t changed. he looks comfortable in loose jeans but little else, the single button undone for reasons she doesn’t bother to understand.

for all of his effort to stay cool, however, beads of sweat trail down his jaw and pool in his collarbones. he glistens in the sun, a modern myth come to life, pushing back the dark strands clinging to his forehead.

if there is one good thing to come out of this, it is the sight before her.

“yeah,” his answer comes with a note of exasperation, and she notes the way the hand not holding his cigarette lays on his thigh, tap tapping against the fabric. jinyoung is bored and that never bodes well for his mood.

she takes a sip of his forgotten water and nearly sighs at the sensation of something cool on her tongue.

“pity, you could’ve been on the corners making a little money off this.” she lifts the glass when he turns in her direction, brow raised. the comprehension that crosses his face is tinged with amusement.

“i’m no entrepreneur,” the smoldering light of his cigarette is extinguished in the tray beside him, before he crosses his arms over his chest. she tries not to examine the way his muscles shift beneath his skin.

“there’s a demand. even the balloon seller down the street is raking in a profit.”

jinyoung’s head tilts as a disbelieving laugh—low, a little untamed—slips into the air between them, “how?”

her shoulders lift, though even the effort of shrugging feels like it’s too much. she takes another long sip of his water, then another step closer, “who knows? but you’re missing out, either way.”

“are you going to drink it all?” he sidesteps, watching her swirl the glass thoughtfully. silently, she plucks the few remaining cubes floating in the glass before setting it on the nearest surface—a worn end table that’s certainly seen better days.

it’s a miracle that they don’t melt in her grasp. she carries them like precious cargo, only sparing him a humored look, “i’ll share.”

“there’s nothing in the glass.” he speaks slowly, as if addressing a small child. she merely raises a brow in response. boredom does terrible things to someone like him. jinyoung enjoys keeping his hands busy, because it keeps the darker thoughts at bay—

not everyone thrives in these godforsaken places, but she’s long accepted that he will always be a little angry.

a little bitter.

when he lifts a hand to wipe away the dew clinging to his upper lip, she grasps his wrist with her free hand and holds it, “i’ll share.”

and if he’s a little late in recognizing her intent, she doesn’t blame him. the heat has made her mind sluggish too; she moves mostly on instinct—driven by a base sort of delight with the way he looks, silhouetted in a gold hazy light that makes him look like he’s been touched by divinity.

jinyoung says nothing, merely watching her as she shifts to hold one cube between her thumb and index finger. soon, it follows the curve of his jaw and he jolts, lashes fluttering before he fixes his attention on her face. her focus moves with the melting ice clasped in her hand and the journey it makes down to his chin, before circling up to trace the edges of his mouth.

with little prompting, he parts his lips and she tips the cube onto his tongue and mirrors the movement with the remaining cube —before it melts on her tongue, she leans in and presses her lips to his; smiling against them when he catches the clue swiftly and opens his mouth to her.

she relishes in the coolness his kiss offers; remnants of ice quickly dissolving as he presses closer with an appreciative hum, tilting his head to draw the softest of moans from the back of her throat.

and even when the heat creeps back in—heady and narcotized—she doesn’t dare move away.

la faim, la soif et la chaleur vont de pair.

#request #member + prompt #jinyoung fanfic #got7 fanfic

31 notes · View notes

phantom-of-decadence · 4 years

Text

God Forbid & the Devil Fears // Chapter One \\

Fandom: Hannibal (TV series)

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Will’s Dogs, Mischa (mentioned) - more to be added

Pairing(s): Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter

Summary of Entire Works: Moving from town to town is exhausting work to keep your face hidden and your hobbies going, but it's worth it to find that crushing high

Hannibal drags himself all over the country, following specific people to kill and following a strict set of rules he laid for himself, struggling to keep his blood lust under wraps.

He soon finds himself in dreary town called Oak Creek and coming face to face with a local who is too curious for his own good.

Albeit, he intrigues Hannibal too, but he is left to wonder if he wants to kill the local or treat him like a delicate rose, blooming in winter's chrysalis...

Warnings: Blood, gore, description of death, murderous thoughts, hunting, pretentious language

Wordcount: 5,514

Tags: AU!No cannibalism, AU!Bookshop Will, AU!Righteous Hannibal, other tags to be added, Will is autistic, pining, angst, gay panic, subtle flirting, eventual smut, fluff, fluff/comfort, pet names, gay thoughts, hunting, hannibal is the scruffy one, so is will but he has standards for fuckssake, hannibal tries to be polite, he is still a murderer though,

A/N: Because we all fucking love putting religion where it doesn’t belong. Also I tentatively made Will on the autistic spectrum ((I will be doing my best to portray autism correctly and read up on it, please let me know if things need to be fixed. I want to do this right))

The POV is not set in stone, I just wanted to open it with something different, going between first person and second was very interesting and I hope it gives insight on characters. So I will likely switch it to third if the next chapter gets written, or keep it like this. IDK, its a toss up

The title will become so relevant later

Towns all look the same, especially when they were all small and in the middle of nowhere.

I move between them often, just stay long enough to admire my handiwork and then I move on for my next target. Leaving what I had done behind me, before they could figure out who had done it.

Where was the fun in being found?

I try not to show my face in the towns I grace, I play a guise that I am visiting friends, family, relations or on my way to see them.

So I stop in a place to rest, a sleepy village that hides a monster. It’s only for a few days at most, I hardly ever eat in a restaurant unless I am stalking, or I get something quick to sate my hunger. And even then, my stomach will not settle for it.

In all the towns I visit, I find nothing to delight in besides the people that they hold within them, those who have not properly answered for their crimes. They walk among the others with their shoulders unburdened and their minds dark, on the prowl for their next victim, warily searching.

Their faces and names, dragged through the mud and branded traitors to mankind and humanity. Some were even locked up and away from the humanity they tried to destroy. Those creatures were the sloppy and messy, only focused chasing the high.

Others I knew, were more careful, calculated and didn’t get caught, didn’t get their due even though they left carnage in the wake of their high.

I knew that high, I craved it. Like all of them.

The high was something that I couldn’t live without.

Was it an addiction?

Maybe.

I never really thought about calling it an addiction, it was a desire to me. Something I could control, something that I had strength over.

An addiction is an urge that had power over its victim.

I would not let the blood lust that curled in my chest to control me, it tried to. Often times when I looked upon a face too soft for this world, too soft for this time.

I did not often give those rushing thoughts too much consideration in the long run, I knew that I should. When I have the time.

But I didn’t have the time, not now.

I was in a new place, looking for a new face, and finding a new desire.

All these towns looked the same.

They were all sleepy, with aimless people wandering the streets. Disguised in neutral colors, abandoned effects, cobblestones and dirt roads.

Diners, mom&pop shops, locals and hardly hints of modern urbanization. Everyone knew everyone, and they didn’t take kindly to an unkind face they have never seen before.

So you have to smile, blend in, pretend you’re one of them - normal, at least; but on the inside you are screaming endlessly and desperately craving for a rushing, dizzy high. A desperation to see red dripping from a wound you made on their exposed throat as their tongue wagged with senseless words, and to the look of shock and stunned silence on the faces of those that surrounded you, the face in front of you.

The thought of it made my mouth water, my hands shake with anticipation on the steering wheel, and my chest crushed with a weight, like I had been sunk deep in the dark depths and been made to stay there, the pressure choking excited gasps from my lungs until I was drowned by the waves of the ocean.

These are the moments where I was powerless, the crescendo of my high - when euphoria rolled through me in waves, and I lost all sense of control.

It hardly ever reached that point, outside of the smooth slide of my knife against uneven skin.

This town was different. I could feel it the moment I drove past the sign that welcomed me into Oak Creek, or perhaps it was just the sinking unease that trickled through me like an impeded stream when I saw the deteriorating sign of that godforsaken fast food restaurant that so many people fattened themselves at.

It’s yellows and reds well faded over time in this dusty little village that didn’t see fit to continuously update it.

I would’ve considered this place abandoned with its looming and dark buildings that were worn with the years of neglect; but Oak Creek’s residents seemed none too concerned about the gloomy haze and bitter cold that rolled over the sky, holding a threat of snow over them.

They didn’t care. They continued to roam the streets, all bundled in fleece coats. It was almost admiral how people in this dreary town continued their aimless patterns in the cold.

The drive past the buildings and to the motel was a short one, on a winding road that dodged small, nestled grey shacks that remained under maintained.

When I came upon the motel, I took note of how well it fit in well with the rest of Oak Creek with a tilt of my head; sleepy and cold and deteriorated, like the rest of the town.

The roof and grounds covered in a fresh blanket of snow, the dark wooden structure was sparse from decoration, save for a sign that read the name of the motel which I barely registered in the back of my mind.

It was the only lodgings in town, after all.

I slowed my car to a stop in front of the motel, turning it off and slowly resting back against the leather seat as I watched the dreary outside in order to collect my thoughts in a neat line.

I began to wonder why those I stalked, kept to themselves in small towns that were underpopulated. Where people are unlikely to speak about the acts they witness or the people that pass through, because they knew better than to talk about other people’s business.

If my prey wanted a chance, then why not find a populated city?

They would be more likely to be found by someone that wasn’t me, perhaps it was the assumption that small towns like Oak Creek didn’t care. And they didn’t, they kept their nose out of private matters unless it concerned the community directly.

But, I like to think my prey enjoyed the hunt, the thrill of the chase.

Mutual respect, perhaps?

Make it easy to dispose of putrid waste?

Kind of them.

Why do towns exist, little places like these, without much foot traffic or tourism? How do they make their income, how do they willingly feed off of one another and fight their neighbor for profits?

How do they justify it?

Do they?

Or is it something unspoken, untold and unfixed?

No tourist attraction, no myths, legends or killers.

That they knew of.

Towns like this surely had no discourse to them, they were a still lake who never had its surface disturbed by wind, leaf or rock. Intentional or not.

Where was the vibration of enjoyment?

These thoughts careened in my head as I left the warmth of my car and made a hasty entrance into the motel, I feigned a smile as I stepped up to the desk to obtain my key from them, “I’m just passing through, on my way for a baby shower.”

I answered the desk clerk’s invasive questions in a polite manner as they tried to get to know me, a brief guest in a drizzle of visitors.

What was behind the urge to know everyone in these dwellings?

Could I consider it all basic politeness that was due to every human?

They couldn’t possibly know what I was by a singular glance. They were simply ordinary.

I would only be here for only three days at the most, that’s how long it would take. To find him, his pattern and then drag him out of his dwellings and gut him like the senseless and cowardly pig he was.

I almost felt guilty for comparing him to a pig; pigs had more character than this man.

Though, I suppose he wasn’t entirely senseless, he moved often from his crimes, never got caught and made his killings few and far between.

This time, he made an error, he slipped up. Stayed for too long to revile in the chaos that was created, he got a little sloppy. He still retained more intelligence than half of the detectives and pawns for the FBI hunting him, because he crawled away, right under their noses.

He couldn’t crawl away from me, I found him and he didn’t even know.

Yet.

My routine began when I was handed my key and directed to my room.

Once I entered the ‘cozy dwellings’ as described by the advertising, I put the “do-not disturb” sign on the doorknob. Some previously have considered it peculiar how much I value the privacy and discretion in my life.

If they were inside of my skin, shared my experiences, they would understand. A man who soaked their hands in red does not leave hand prints on others uninvolved in their crimes.

I scoured the room, began to measure and map it in my mind. I sat my travel bag down by the bed before I eased myself onto the creaking mattress, listening for how thin the walls were, how much sound would enter and escape.

I could hear the sounds from the road outside of these lodgings; it was mostly silent, no cars rumbling by. Everything was within walking distance, so I understood that people didn’t use gas unless it was completely unavoidable.

No sounds on the road, not many people milling around. No cacophony of noise to cover up the wails of a dying man, questions would be raised.

It couldn’t be here.

I knew the home address of the man I was hunting, I knew a lot about him.

I made that my job to know him, all of his names that changed from town to town and crime to crime; his given name was Peter Martin, not a name that stuck out in a long list of names that the devil keeps.

I wondered why he never kept his name as it was given, too mundane perhaps? Did he want to strike terror into the hearts of others with a frightening name?

Peter Martin would not be giving me that answer, that wouldn’t be the question I was asking him.

I needed to go to his home and watch him, establish his pattern the way a bee would every single day, a drone existing to serve a queen. Existing to serve the chance that a high would be waiting for him around the corner.

Despite having just arrived to my room, I was ready to venture out into the frigid ghost town.

The prospect of a hunt, of a chase - the temptation and soft promise that I would get that depth crushing high in a manner of three days time, was enough for me to rise from my bed and leave the warmth of my lodgings behind.

The sooner I was able to map out Oak Creek, the sooner my hunt could begin and I could move on to the next deserved high.

I stood, staring down my own reflection in the mirror that sat above the desk, trying to assure myself that I looked like one of them.

With the plaid scarf tucked tightly around my neck, leather gloves on my hands, and knit cap pulled down over my ears, I looked less of a killer than what I actually was.

You cannot help feeling what you are in your soul; but for a brief moment of peace, your mind can let you forget what you actually are.

In the end, when it truly matters most, you will always know what you are in the darkest parts of yourself.

I closed the door behind me, taking care to ensure that the “do-not-disturb” sign was on before I left the premise; though left nothing incriminating in my room. I kept that with me, at all times.

Then again, I was a fond of using whatever was within reach of my hands when it came to achieving my high.

Some considered it resourceful, when I used a “Live~Laugh~Love” wooden poster to nearly sever the head of an escaped child rapist. He had struggled too much, knocked the knife from my grip. That was the closest thing I could reach.

The snow crunched under my boots as I trudged along the slate sidewalk that led from the motel and into a graying Oak Creek, it was mostly empty save for a couple dressed in brown and tan winter clothing, too wrapped up in each other to notice that they had passed me.

I didn’t have the desire to quirk the corners of my mouth up when our eyes met for a singular second, I knew my gaze was emotionless and empty even if they didn’t register it, I did.

I found difficulty to fit warmth in my features unless I had reason to do so, a reason that would hopefully benefit me in the end, and people in love is not a reason to show warmth.

We passed each other and that was the end of it.

I passed several stores in the area, none of which I took too much note of. Save for a diner, I would need to eat, after all.

The sky was still as grey and callous, if not more so, from the time I arrived.

Dark skies settled over the horizon, assuring to bring fresh snow and harsh winds that burned my nose and cast tears in my eyes trying to see past the frigid breeze.

I never particularly cared for winter, it was too bitter and gloomy.

Only one aspect of winter was appeasing to me, it was the whiteness of the snow. How undisturbed it fell, the way it gently kissed the earth and how it looked when red spattered over it.

I enjoyed writing my love notes to the earth on pure white.

I continued down the sidewalk for a few minutes longer to take everything in, but I soon found myself looking up at a wooden sign above a shop that read, “Pages and Pawprints, a collection of books and friendly faces to keep you company”.

I don’t exactly remember what called me towards the cobblestone store that was more window than it was building, but I turned my attention to it fully. It looked almost completely desolate, but I approached it all the same as curiosity drove me more than logic.

I knew I shouldn’t be showing my face too much in Oak Creek, thankfully satisfaction brought the curious cat, back from the dead.

I opened the glass door, trying not to notice how the handle was shaped in a dog’s paw; I was instantly greeted by the sound of a bell ringing and a couple of subdued barks from dogs laying down, near a couple of tables and chairs.

My eyes were drawn to the six dogs lying on multiple beds that had been provided for them, they were all of different size and color and all eyes were locked onto me.

Subtly, I wondered what I had been expecting? The owner of this store was clearly infatuated with canines and their hair, whereas, I was not. I considered turning around and leaving, though something kept me there.

Perhaps it was the warmth in contrast to the outside, I paused to loosen my scarf and unzip my jacket. I left the knit cap on, however.

The door closed behind me, ringing out the chime of a bell once more just to announce that I was still there, deciding against the thought to leave.

My gaze remained on the dogs for a second more, but none moved to greet me. I allowed my eyes to wander until I found a man sitting behind a mahogany desk. The only one who wasn’t looking at me, but at the computer in front of him.

I moved in his direction, searching for a conversation, these trips got lonely. Save for the people I gutted; I still valued conversation I could have with people who wouldn’t remember me.

“Hello.” The smile on my lips was immediate as I got close enough to study you.

Your hair was dark and unkempt, tousled, forgotten about. Designed by the way you slept, heavy and slicked in sweat from what I can only assume was nightmares, if Oak Creek was always this cold.

Your head tilted up to acknowledge me, the slightest quirking of your pink lips in response to my spoken word, yet you made no move to respond to me.

Your face was almost the same as your hair, unkempt stubble and a sheen of dampness on your forehead, dark circles under your eyes. Which refused to look up at me.

Your blue eyes didn’t settle, they looked everywhere but at me, darting around in that pretty little skull of yours. Trying to lock on something in your shop that would ground you.

I could smell a lot coming off of you. Most notably, that stink of an aftershave that made me want to wrinkle my nose in disgust. I resisted the urge because I smelled another thing rolling off of you, blatant apprehension of my person.

It would’ve strung my chest with hurt, if I cared in that way.

A quick glance to your hands, in your lap now, were shaking and fidgeting in a looped pattern, told me this is what you were always like with new people.

You got sensory overload quickly, when it came to humans, and their noises, and their energy... you liked your dogs though. That much I could see when your gaze rested on them for once.

I wanted to push you a little bit, I wanted to stare at you and make you squirm with the weight of my gaze until your heart was racing, make you talk to me and answer my buggering questions...

At least I thought I wanted to do that. To test you, see how far you would go.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t find it within myself to do any of that.

I turned my body, my dark and unnerving gaze away from you, and looked into your store to try and figure out the purpose of it really was; dark bookshelves, assortments of books that were organized by color, it looked like.

The walls were a deep maroon and had pictures of people and their dogs hanging from it, small plaques here and there.

I found myself smiling at the ensemble, despite the disdain I held for animal hair - it seemed to complete the look. The shop was neatly kept, it was something you were proud of, something you were deeply passionate about.

I could feel your eyes on my when I turned my back to you, curiously studying the way I held myself and what I wore, too many layers for a local.

Turning my back to people wasn’t something I would consistently do to strangers, but I knew you had no reason to hurt me, that was the last thing you were capable of.

“What are you here for?” You asked me, finally speaking. Your voice was raspy and soft but baritone in your chest, you sounded hesitant to speak because you didn’t know who I was, and I wanted to keep it like that.

To protect you, to protect myself more.

I knew that you were used to the people in your town, you were used to a pattern that repeated itself and I disrupted it. So you were cautious and tiptoeing around me, as if you could sense what I was.

I had to assure myself that you didn’t.

I parted my lips to answer you, politely as my mind turned back to the thought of small town people wanting to know everything, “Nothing in particular, I was exploring town-”

“You’re not from around here.” You stated sharply, prompting me to incline my head over my shoulder to look at you with a brow raised. I was smiling even if you weren’t.

You looked away, apprehensive again.

I didn’t have the time to wonder why I smiled at you, what the reason was that benefited me but it brought a blossoming warmth to my chest.

“No, I’m just passing through. I thought I should find a couple of places to entertain me on my short visit.” I affirmed your suspicion of my ‘wayfaring stranger’ position.

“Oh,” You took a second to try and collect your thoughts before you spoke again, and something stutter in my beating chest as I faced you once more and saw the creases on your forehead, lips pulled into a taunt line as you considered how best to showcase the things you were passionate about.

Your blue plaid shirt was ruffled, coated in a layer of dog hair; pushed up past your forearms, revealing pale skin and faded scarring. You had left your thick jacket and scarf somewhere else, out of reach.

My fingers twitched by my side, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by my staring, but I wanted to touch your skin and inquire how your arms earned those stripes. I remained silent until you spoke.

“I have owned this shop for three years now and I have books imported from different countries and states, I don’t really put labels on what this space is... but you can buy the books, a-and take them home.

“Or you can read them here and put them back, s-sometimes I open it for crafts on certain day.” You explained to me, your eyes still darting around, a smile and a blush decorated your face. For a moment, you met my gaze before you were focusing on your dogs again, “My dogs are friendly as they can be, they like people and it functions as a safe space if anyone needs it.”

As I listened to you speak about your shop, I reflected a bit internally. I concluded that the safe space you spoke of was for you, mostly. You almost looked like you were refraining from telling me every last detail detail of your beloved dogs, you instead turned the topic elsewhere.

My mind turned towards myself after a beat, I wondered what this stuttering in my chest was; it wasn’t the weight that shackled me when a potential high presented it’s face to my keen eyes.

This was something else entirely, like my bones were made of air instead of tension. Hyper fixation sat heavy on my chest, the same way as when the blood lust dripped down my teeth, accompanying the urge hunt, the desire to know you, your soul, and everything under your skin. All of you.

My claws would flex with the want to sink into you and hold you still, only stare into your eyes, your entirety. I wanted to look you in the eyes and see who you really were, but I didn’t meet your gaze.

I followed it to the books, to the dogs.

This feeling was wrong. It wasn’t how I felt when the perfect prey was within the grasp of my talons; perhaps it was the desire of someone innocent, to see them bleeding.

I had not set my sights on innocence for the longest time.

I promised Mischa that I wouldn’t dig for innocent breath or blood, ever again; but these desires made feel stuck and powerless, rooted in one spot as your words tumbled through me.

I only ever knew one way of getting that power back, to take it away from someone else. I didn’t feel the need to take it back from you, I simply let you keep it... whatever made you feel comfortable with me.

I smiled, the corners of my eyes crinkling as you told me about the genres that you carried, several of which, I didn’t even care for.

You looked so enthused, a twinkle in your eye that mesmerized me, so I could only stand there and thank you, telling you that I would go get the books you recommended would entertain me for a spell.

I kept my eyes on you, watching as your face lit up, you smiled and laughed softly, fingers clasping together as if you were shy or astonished that someone would listen to you.

I found that absurd, everyone would listen to your voice if given the chance. I forced myself to look away from your face, I didn’t desire to make you crawl in your skin because of my piercing gaze; somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered why that though struck my skull.

I thanked you again and left my place at the desk, carefully stepping around the many dogs that you owned, they simply thumped their tail on the ground and I feigned a smile to them. If only for your sake.

I disappeared behind on of the shelves so you could no longer see me, and the stutter in my chest slowed down, if only just a bit while I scoured the sections to find ‘drama’, ‘mystery’ and ‘historical fiction’, neatly bunched together.

I could consider these few genres the absolute last thing I wanted to read, but... I was going to grab the books and bring them to you anyway.

I wish my mind would give me a rational answer to why this trembling like a newborn fawn, and sudden airiness of a bird made of feathers came to me.

I should’ve left the store when I had the chance.

This wasn’t the blood lust that coiled within me when hunting my perfect prey, the urge then was unfiltered rage, animistic and primal. The desire to maim as best I could while, keeping my identity restricted at the same time.

This fawn is something else that I don’t know how to care for, a different breed of blood lust that sat on my chest. I knew I would have to do a dissection on myself. I could feel it in the back of my mind, the terror of not being in control of my own emotions.

Mischa in the back of my mind, repeating the words I had said to her, the promise I made to my sister so long ago.

I sighed, defeated, as my hands pulled the four books you recommended, off the shelf and held them in my hands, close to my chest before making my way back to you.

The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Murder on the Oriental Express, The Song of Achilles and of course, Othello. Excellent choices if I were another creature.

You glanced up at me as I came back, your eyes like a lamb’s, wide and curious.

You took a second to look me over as I walked, taking me in as a whole and not a part; I was like a Victorian schoolgirl for a beat, embarrassed I had been caught bathing by the boys as they glanced in awe at me.

I wanted to clothe myself in white satin to hide prying eyes; but in a second beat, I was aware that I was fully clothed and dressed for winter in this dreary town of Oak Creek, standing in front of you.

Nowhere close to what my mind’s eye provided me.

It was jarring to say the least, I almost faltered in my movements under your vision.

Your scrutiny lasted for less than five seconds, eyes finally returning to your computer screen, waiting for me to set the books down on the desk so you could ring up the price.

I didn’t even want these books in the first place, yet you looked joyous that they were in my arms, “I recommend, if you read anything, read The Song of Achilles first, before you leave town...”

You seemed to hesitate on what you wanted to say next, twitchy fingers collecting the books and stacking them neatly, “No-one ever wants to discuss the meaning of it, both within the book or the actual myth.”

You left it open ended, for me. My eyes locked on your wrist, skin pale and almost ashen, and your long fingers stimming below it.

I knew what you wanted, what I was made you curious the same way I had been when I first slunk into your shop. You wanted to find out more about the stranger in your building, like everyone else in Oak Creek.

But you were more forward about it.

“I can come in the day after tomorrow.” My lips parted and my mouth spoke before my mind could finally catch up and remind myself... what rules I was breaking by even offering such an absurd thing.

I blinked, my first solution was to stay away from you, to fight this stutter in my chest and whatever craving I had for an innocent’s blood. If this even was a craving.

I answered your unspoken question and you were a deer in headlights because I gave you exactly what you wanted, you slowly looked up at me, your curls brushed loosely over your forehead and your fingers twitched in uncertainty.

“If you want to talk about the book,” I continued, knowing there was no way I could step back now with my dignity and your feelings intact.

My voice was strained like something was strangling me when I spoke - something invisible to you, but completely seen to me, “I enjoy a lively discussion from time to time.” I offer so it wouldn’t be worse than it was, but I don’t believe it helped the situation.

You stared at me, mouth agape while my chest sunk to the depths against my wishes; then your lips twitched into a smile, “Okay... it’s nice to speak to new people.” Your voice was soft as you accepted my invitation that you prodded from me.

My throat tighten in response, I wanted to verbally agree with you even if I didn’t believe it, I nodded instead to you. I offered to speak with you even though I knew I shouldn’t, I had prey to stalk, catch and gore.

I had to dissect this stumbling fawn inside of me.

Where would I find the delicate time to speak to you?

And why did the thought of not getting the chance, fill my lungs with inescapable breath?

The sooner I left this village and claimed my prize, the sooner I would feel normal again.

I always hated the winter, things were always different and difficult, the ground refused to let things rot no matter how long they had been there.

The amount I owed you for the books I didn’t even want, tumbled from your mouth to distract my thoughts, and I hastily dug into my pockets, pulling out a wad of cash and thrusting it over to you. I hadn’t been listening to you at this point, I just wanted out of this store to cool my buzzing mind.

I needed to retreat from the public and your eyes.

“It’s only twenty-one ninety,” your voice broke through my fog, confusion an undertone in your soft voice.

I blinked in an attempt to get my head right, before I took the money you offered back to me, wanting the right amount because you were a small store who couldn’t cash a hundred dollar bill.

“Oh, my apologies.” I ran through the notes, finding as close as it could get to the total, giving thirty dollars back to you, “Keep the rest.” I struggled out while I gathered my books in my arms and turned for the door.

My pathetic attempt to get away in a haste as if a hunter was on my bleeding trail, though your voice cut me short like a gunshot in a silent forest, “I’m Will, by the way.”

I stopped, my gloved hand on the handle to the door.

I took one moment to look back at you, your cheeks blushing pink and lips turned upward in the smallest smile as you forced yourself to watch me for my reaction.

I let out a shaky breath, preparing myself to break yet another a rule that I set many years previous to keep myself and innocents safe... did it even matter now?

“I’m Hannibal, it’s nice to meet you, Will.”

“Likewise.” You responded immediately, leaving me with your parting smile and I quickly took my leave of Pages and Pawprints, heading back the way I came from, back to my motel where I could brood over the interaction that just passed. Dissect this new, tumbling fawn

I furiously growled under my breath as I walked through the cold, books pressed tightly to my chest and the lingering scent of that horrible aftershave from you, following me all the way to the supposed comfort of my room.

I needed a kill to get you off of my mind.

7 notes · View notes

wongpuppy · 5 years

Text

DESTINED, wong hendery

➵ Rating fluff + slight angst

➵ Pairing tour-guide!Hendery x tourist!Y/N

➵ Word count 2.5k words [ one-shot ]

➵ Summary not all those who wander are lost, but sometimes you were glad you were

Two Years Ago

You mutter a curse under your breath looking around the different foreign signs and stores, trying to grasp at anything that looked remotely familiar or in English.

But alas, the more you wandered into the untranslatable street you were on in Seoul, the more lost you got.

Reaching your backpack, you’re about to grab a bottle of water before something -- or well, someone bumps into you. And when your curse is joined by a much deeper, masculine voice in unison, the both of your eyes meet instantly. Once they do, you could feel something deep in your chest inflate, bloom, your skin tingling everywhere.

He looked like he had to have come out of a Disney movie, features soft and dreamy. A small side smile grows on his face and makes your cheeks flare up, your eyes zeroing in on the attractiveness of the simple action. The second you feel the heat across your face, you quickly look away with a short, hesitant giggle.

“Do you know English? Please say yes, I’m so lost.”

Instantly, the guy’s eyes squint slightly as he smiles wide and amused, chuckling silently under his breath. “I think the whole universe set this up, you know? I’m a tour guide. No such thing as being lost now that you met me.”

“This place has the best Bulgogi, Samgyeopsal, and Japchae in all of Seoul.”

Hendery does this every so often while he walks you to the restaurant you were supposed to meet your friends at, pointing out different sites he liked as the two of you passed through the streets. You were keen on typing into your notes every shopping center, park, or restaurant he’d suggest, only because of how enthusiastic Hendery was as he talked about them.

He’d tell you about intimate or extravagant memories he’s had at those places, face set in a permanent smile the entire time. He seemed to be on a high exploring and reminiscing about good times he’s had, it made you feel blanketed in nothing but pure, unadulterated happiness.

“Hendery, are you from Seoul? Or, well, anywhere in Korea?” You ask with a shy smile as he turns to you with a raised brow, irresistibly bright laughter following after.

“No, love,” Hendery grins at you with that smile that makes you feel warmth spread throughout your body in the brisk February air. “I’m from Macau. I’ve just lived in Seoul for half my life so I know it pretty well, it’s one of my favorite cities in the world.”

“You’re so passionate about what you do, it makes me want to go to all these places I’ve never been to.”

You watch him beam at you from your words, catching how strangers crossing the two of you would stare a little longer at him. It was almost refreshing to hear the way Hendery’s voice raised a pitch or two whenever he talked about being close with some owners of local restaurants or family-owned boutiques.

“I love exploring and finding new places or things, I’m a tour guide in Macau, too. One day I’ll show you around the places I grew up.” The both of you make eye contact and you feel a rush of adrenaline cruise through you when his chocolate iris’ meet yours, a lopsided and intoxicating smile on Hendery’s face making the second you saw it feel like hours. He chuckles breathlessly, cheeks red and eyes twinkling.

“If I can brighten up someone’s day just by showing them through some of my favorite places, I don’t mind not doing anything else for the rest of my life.”

The two of you go back and forth like old friends, catching each other up on important current and childhood moments. You learned about his three older sisters and about the way his sentences would sometimes end abruptly when he sees someone needing any form of help, apologizing to you before going over to offer any form of aid.

The constant grin on his face is infectious, the tops of your cheeks starting to sting as the two of you weave through the streets of Downtown Seoul. The sun is just starting to peek through the clouds, and it’s as if the previously cold, gloomy atmosphere of the densely packed city brightens.

But even as the cold, dry air picked up some warmth, your cheeks stayed a permanent pink the whole time.

“Y/N,” Hendery comes a little closer to your right as the crosswalk gets heavier foot traffic, and when you look up at his face, the same rosy pink is painted across his face. “How long did you say you were saying in Seoul?”

“Only two more days, I really want to stay longer, though.” You hope you don’t sound as sad as you feel, wishing you could extend your stay long before bumping into the handsome tour guide. Seoul felt like home to you, the mere week spent in the city awakening something deep in you that you’ve never felt before.

“We should exchange numbers then! I mean, only if you want to! I could tell you more places to see-”

“Y/N? Y/N, over here!” You turn your head with both annoyance and curiosity at the voice shouting your name over a crowd, only to see your best friend Annie leaning out of a Jeep window waving at you in the middle of traffic. “Come on, the lights going to turn green any moment!”

You gulp, turning back to Hendery with a sadness that solidifies and sinks to the bottom of your stomach. He looks at you with that godforsaken grin, tinged with a badly covered up hint of sadness that fades when you reach out to hold his hand. He quickly wraps both hands around yours, enveloping it with warmth and promise, before reaching up to gingerly kiss the skin of your knuckles.

“Until the next time, soulmate.”

You quickly learn it’s hard to keep track of time with Wong Hendery’s touches.

It all happens so fast, everything that comes after those few ending words. Annie yells your name again and instinctively, you lean forward to plant a short and sweet kiss on the startled boys cheek. Grinning one last time, you squeeze Hendery’s warm hands before letting go and sprinting towards the Jeep, mind empty with only the image of Hendery and his twinkling brown eyes there.

“Who was that? Did you get his number?” Annie asks as you scoot into the car, greeting all of your friends in it with a larger than life grin. You shake your head at her, smile still wide on your face.

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll find a way.”

Current Day

Rolling your lips into your mouth, you cross your arms when you stand in front of the random park you accidentally strolled into. You were definitely lost, but at least now you knew you were in Yeouido Hangang Park.

Chuckling under your breath, you walk over to a bench and sit down with a loud sigh from walking so much; closing your eyes behind massive black sunglasses to fully relax against the wooden pew. Seoul in April was definitely your favorite time of the year from the short week you’ve been here, the sun shining brightly and the breeze-- airy and the perfect counterbalance.

But even as the heat felt good against your skin, the memory of a cold day in February two years ago has never been able to leave your mind.

A gentle, masculine voice ends all thought in your mind, asking if the seat next to you on the bench was taken in Korean. You quickly open your eyes, shaking your head and uttering no in not-so-confident Korean.

After the last time you were in Seoul, you chose to give learning Korean a go, deciding that one day you would definitely live here and wanting to know the language.

You’re about to scoot over more on the bench until you look up at the man and your eyes instantly go wide behind the dark shades.

“Hendery?”

The second those same, sparkly brown eyes meet yours, you instantly take off your sunglasses and bask in the widest, most exultant smile you’ve ever seen. He looks like he’d just won the lottery, a cocktail of disbelief and elation clear on his face.

“The universe is definitely rooting for us.” Hendery bites down on his bottom lip with a wide grin, sitting close beside you to take you in for a warm hug. It takes you a moment to realize what’s happening, forgetting how comforting it was to be around him and never having been hugged by him at all. His arms felt secure and firm, your skin feeling cold the instant Hendery pulls away beaming. “You aren’t lost this time, though, I’m guessing?”

You chuckle shyly, reluctantly pulling away from the comfort of his chest and unable to stop the broadening of your smile when you take in his features. “I’m one hundred percent lost but just been walking a while so I needed to sit and relax.”

“You didn’t look lost at all, I thought you were just a regular person chilling at the park.” He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he speaks, laugh matching yours in pitch and brightness. “And when did you start learning Korean?”

“Learned from someone that being lost doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” Your cheeks are flushed, looking away from Hendery’s piercing brown eyes completely bashful, with the nervous giggle to prove it. “I know I’m terrible at it, I started learning right after the last time I visited but I’m pretty slow at it.”

He’s quiet for a handful of seconds and when you hesitantly look over, you catch the way Hendery looks at you as if in awe before a shy grin replaces his previously slack jaw. “Please tell me you don’t have to be anywhere soon.” He inches closer to you on the bench, leaning over to tuck a stray strand of hair off your face. “My favorite place in Seoul’s a fifteen minute walk.”

Hendery hasn’t changed in the two years you haven’t talked, conversation flowing as if you’ve known each other for years. He asks you questions about your hometown and about what the last two years brought you, if you preferred tea over coffee. It makes you feel special, answering questions you’ve never been asked before, how Hendery nods and beams after every sentence that comes from you.

You almost forget Hendery’s supposed to be taking you to his favorite place, far too caught up in the presence of the boy beside you to notice the wash of falling bubblegum pink petals in front of you.

You have to do a double take once you first see the cherry blossoms, looking at Hendery in complete disbelief before looking back at the falling petals with tears almost rising to the tops of your eyes. Cherry blossoms were your favorite flowers and you’ve never seen them in person before, not even knowing they bloomed in Korea.

After a few moments of watching the flowers fall from the dark brown branches, the both of you utter how ‘cherry blossoms are your favorite flower’ before blushing feverishly and giggling as you walked through the handful of people that crossed the same path.

Hendery’s explaining to you how his grandmother used to take him to a cherry blossom field when he was younger before he gets a call and groans, uttering a quick sorry before pulling out his phone. He turns to you with an apologetic frown, “I’m really sorry but I really have to take this.”

You quickly give him a reassuring smile, not minding in the slightest. You look back at the cherry blossom trees when Hendery talks in quick and lucid Cantonese into his phone. Even if you didn’t understand the language, it was always nice to listen to, the sentences flowing in an almost poetic manner.

Hendery, however, looks slightly downcasted as he ends the call, a small smile slowly growing on his face as he lightly tugs on your elbow to get your attention. “Sorry about that, I forgot that I’m supposed to be somewhere in five minutes. Today’s my eldest sisters birthday and it’s the first time she’s holding a party.”

You chuckle lightly, taking in his shy smile and handsome features, never wanting to look away. “Don’t apologize, Hendery! You should go soon then.”

“Yeah, I should.” He mutters, eyes scanning yours before gulping thickly and inching closer towards you and kissing you, hands cupping your jaw as pretty pink petals falling around the both of you.

Your arms circle around him, wanting him impossibly closer, as his lips press and move against yours. There’s a tangible magic that rushes through your veins, pumping nothing but adrenaline and endorphins. Hendery kisses you with nothing but certainty, hands cradling your face with nothing but promise.

You’re the first to pull away, knowing that if you didn’t, you might never at all. You catch him pout when you do, the look of Hendery’s bottom lip jutting out too cute not to kiss. You peck the perked out lip, holding his hands that were still on your face with a bittersweet smile.

You realize the both of you hadn’t exchanged numbers again, but Hendery needed to leave and you wouldn’t be the one to stop him.

“You need to be somewhere, mister international tour guide.”

Hendery chuckles lowly, a smile making its way onto his face when his eyes do some laps around your face. He lets go of your face but holds your hands for a moment or two before kissing them and letting go.

“I’ll see you around, soulmate.”

A Year Later

“Y/N, we’re definitely lost, how are you not freaking out?” Annie grumbles, trudging beside you alongside the Zhujiang River. You shrug in response, keeping your gaze focused on the pink and bright orange hues of the sky right after the sun fell through the horizon.

The past year was dedicated to traveling to new countries you’ve never been before, already visiting cities like Singapore, Bangkok, Hong Kong, and now, Macau.

“Freaking out won’t help, that’s why.” You stick your tongue out at Annie when she rolls her eyes. “Plus look at how pretty the sky is! This is the prettiest sunset I’ve seen yet.”

You skip over to the railing overlooking the river, smiling almost lovingly at the departing sun, taking in the way the pink of the sky quickly turns into a pastel purple.

Out of all the places you’ve been, Macau was the quickest to fall in love with.

Of course, there was a very big bias to come along, but after arriving at night and being surrounded by completely lit up streets in every color -- you felt like you were in a dream. The weather was just right, just as he’d recommended it would be, and after only being in Macau Island for half a day, you’ve eaten some of the best food you’ve had in your life.

Everything almost screamed Wong Hendery.

“Y/N?”

#wow can you hear how whipped i am for this man #the Prince Charming #neowritingsnet #nct hendery #wayv hendery #wayv hendery fluff #wayv hendery angst #wong hendery #wong kunhang #hendery oneshot #nct writing #wayv writing #hendery x reader #wayv x reader #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct angst #wayv fluff #wayv angst

139 notes · View notes

the-descension-inks · 4 years

Text

Sojourn (Zutara Week 2020)

Summary: It's a strange fate that they have crafted for themselves; lines that don't quite meet, stars that circle each other, and stories that are almost written. (Or, glimpses into Zuko and Katara's lives, told in reverse, from the very end to the very beginning.)

[7/9] Affirm

He doesn’t mind it. He has had enough people looking at him over the last month with pity in their eyes – burned at thirteen, crowned at sixteen, widowed at thirty-one – and he can’t take it anymore.

A drop of sweat trickles down the side of his face, reminds him of how much he detests the sticky humidity of this city. His hair feels uncomfortable, and his crown has never felt heavier.

It’s funny, he thinks, how he misses the dry heat of Caldera City; misses the hot gusts of wind that lash at him without leaving behind a sheen of sweat, a constant reminder of its lurching discomfort.

Read the entire series here, and this chapter under the cut, or on AO3, or on FF.net.

[TRIGGER WARNING: Minor Depiction of Violence]

115 AG

Fire Lord Zuko returns to full-fledged political life a month after losing his wife.

(He’d heard the whispers, of course. Around the palace. In Republic City. Too soon to be coming back, they had said.)

The room in the City Hall feels too small today, the walls closing in, the prickly heat of Republic City crawling its way up Zuko’s skin while the Earth Kingdom representative – Saye, he thinks – goes on and on about how she believes bloodbending can be useful in the field of medicine.

Which, of course, is nothing but a ton of bullshit, but he perseveres through it all. For the sake of fucking diplomacy.

“You okay, buddy?” Sokka whispers to him, nudging his knee underneath the table.

He wonders if there’s anything on his face to suggest otherwise, but gives the other man a reassuring nod nevertheless.

Sokka returns the nod, gives him half a smile, and leaves him alone to his thoughts.

A drop of sweat trickles down the side of his face, reminds him of how much he detests the sticky humidity of this city. His hair feels uncomfortable, and his crown has never felt heavier.

The Earth Kingdom woman – Saye – stands up at long last, and Zuko thinks that’s the end of it. They can hear Katara next, and she’ll shut up everyone who thinks bloodbending should even be allowed to exist with her precise logic and powerful voice, and then they’ll outlaw it, and they’ll just... go home.

(Another heir to the throne left without a mother, the whispers had also said. Zuko had wondered if it had something to do with his godforsaken heritage. Paying for the heinous crimes of his forefathers, or something along those lines.)

“With the permission of the honorary members of the United Republic Council, I’d like to bring someone forth,” Saye tells them instead. “A healer, if you will. I believe her demonstrations will help us reach a better decision.”

There’s something odd about how she says it, the way her eyes glint as she narrows them at him, and only him. He wonders if it’s all in his head, if he is truly starting to lose his mind.

“No harm in wasting a little more time, right?” Sokka asks him under his breath with a roll of his eyes.

“Of course not,” he bites out, an inexplicable feeling of dread settling to the pit of his stomach.

He watches as Saye saunters out of the room, still trying to place a finger on what it is that’s filling him with panic. Sokka turns to him, doesn’t help his thoughts one bit. “There’s something fishy about that woman.”

“You too?”

Sokka frowns, and then groans as he lowers his head onto his hands. “I can’t wait for Katara to shut down all her claims though.” A laugh bubbles out of the man clad in blue. “I’m sure my sister’s temper is already off the roof by now. She’s been waiting for what… an hour now, in this heat?”

Despite everything, Zuko finds a smile ghosting across his lips, and then instantly shakes his head to do away it. His skin crawls again, and it has nothing to do with the heat this time.

He hates it, hates himself for still feeling this way. For feeling, at all.

Saye returns, a woman in tow, a woman dressed in Northern Water Tribe colors. Sokka’s eyes meet his, brows furrowed, confusion apparent.

“Now, if I may,” the Earth Kingdom representative begins.

She looks at him one more time, a maniacal glint in her eyes, and Zuko feels himself stiffen, fists clenching at his sides, body hyper-aware of the stench of sweat and brine.

And then— and then, it happens too fast, the motions a memory – nightmare – etched in his mind.

A knife comes out of nowhere, glistening in the harsh glare of the sunlight— Zuko lunges forward, a word on his lips; no? Nyh?

But it all happens too fast, far too out of control for him to do anything about it— Saye plunges the blade into herself, and all Zuko can see is red and only red. He thinks he hears voices behind him, feels Sokka’s arms pulling him back, but it’s all too familiar, all too similar, till it’s not.

The healer holds up a hand, cradles Saye’s almost limp body, and then begins to move her hands in a movement he recognizes.

Fuck.

Realization dawns upon him, but his heart still hammers in his chest. The blood stops gushing out, held back by an invisible force, as the healer continues to control it; bend it.

The room starts to spin around him, solid lines blurring into shapelessness. There’s a droning; a loud, distinctive, ugly noise that gives him a splitting headache.

This is sick, this is perverse; he wants to yell, but his throat is like sandpaper, and his voice is lost somewhere in between memory and reality.

(The Fire Lady stabbed to death in front of the Fire Lord, and all he did was watch, they had said. It hardly mattered that the words weren’t true. What mattered was that they had been poured into the crevices of reality.)

“Zuko? Zuko?”

Sokka still has an arm around him, and he realizes he is trembling, and that he would have collapsed a long time ago had it not been for that.

“You’ve seen enough,” Sokka sounds incredibly calm despite everything that has unfolded. “Go outside. The rest of us will put an end to this.”

He thinks he nods, but his eyes refuse to move from the wound that is being healed, skin patching up under the healer’s touch, leaving behind only a thin tapered line.

“Zuko, go.”

He nods again, the remnants of blood on Saye’s clothes catching his eye, no longer sickly red, but a dried out brown, and—

She opens her eyes, blinks, once, twice, and locks her eyes upon him. Zuko freezes, feels his hands going cold, sweat sticking to his entire body, and— she smiles.

Bile rises to his mouth, stomach twisting with disgust, skin tainted and repulsive, and he wants to rip it all off—

His feet move on automatic, tearing his body away from Sokka’s solid grasp, and he runs.

Away from the room, away from the blood, away from everything, and when a hand reaches out to catch him as he flies through the sickeningly pristine corridors of the City Hall, brown skin and blue robes and entirely too close, he shrugs it off and just keeps running.

Sokka and Katara find him in the empty room where he hides till his blood stops thrumming in his veins, and his heart stops pounding in his chest.

Sokka hangs back a foot away, but Katara crouches in front of him. He can feel her eyes on him, but does not have the courage to look up.

“It’s done,” Sokka says finally. “It’s banned. We don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Zuko wills himself to nod.

“Come on, let’s go,” Katara tells him.

It almost hurts to look at her, to see the way she looks at him, eyes helpless and teary. Her hands shift, and he’s suddenly afraid she’s going to reach out, but she pulls back before anything happens at all.

And that’s how he knows, that she knows too. She has heard them too.

(Threw himself in front of a lightning bolt to save a Water Tribe peasant, and he couldn’t even save his own wife. These were the worst of them all. The ones that kept him up at night.)

Sokka is awfully quiet, and Zuko wonders how much he has heard. He hates that he cares so much about what shadows hiss in the dark.

He hates there’s some truth hidden in all the lies.

Katara walks by his side, and Sokka walks a few steps ahead, and when his thoughts start to get too heavy one more time, she says, “It’s all talk, Zuko. There’s no truth in it.”

He wonders if she really believes that, but does not dare to ask, and lets the words die on his lips.

It’s not like it’s the first time.

A/N: Again, I have another chapter written for this prompt but figured I’d get this one out first.

@zutaraweek

#zutara #zuko #katara #zutara week #zutara week 2020 #atla #my writing #sojourn

9 notes · View notes