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wizardofrozz · 7 months

Note

hi, Rozz!!! from the kiss prompts, can I please request:

"i'm sorry, i had to." with Sawbones (simping uncontrollably for him tbh)

can’t wait to see how the mean one handles a first kiss 😅

Love It When You Hate Me

OC Sawbones x reader, Original Clone Troopers

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: mention of injury, Sawbones being an asshole. I think that's it lol

A/N: Thank you for the ask Sev 🖤 I get so unbelievably happy when anyone simps of Sawbones lmao I got a little carried away with this but I don't even care, it was worth it 😂

Before the war, you hadn’t traveled much, staying busy in the emergency wing of Coruscant General. Then Geonosis happened, millions of troopers materializing out of thin air to fight a war most people hadn’t even been expecting. That was how you ended up working for the GAR, traveling around the galaxy to lend your medical knowledge to the troops that needed it most. You had visited several medical centers and worked alongside combat medics across numerous battalions.

The Ord Cestus Medical Center was your most recent assignment, offering an extra set of hands after a large influx of troopers came in. You smiled at the clone stretched out on the bed before you as you checked his vitals. You didn’t even know his name but it didn’t seem to matter to him.

“Am I gonna make it, doc?” he asked, a smirk lifting the side of his mouth. The trooper’s arm was secured to his chest, his right shoulder still healing after being violently ripped from the socket.

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, smiling when he laughed. It was a welcomed sound in a place so steeped in pain, meaning you noticed when it cut off abruptly. You checked for any sign that he was in pain but his expression gave nothing away; you followed his eyes across the room and held in a sigh.

As a civilian, you hadn’t been sent into combat areas, making relief missions your most common assignment. Most of the time you spent with a battalion was fleeting but there was one that was an exception: the 104th battalion, the Wolfpack. General Plo Koon’s men still fought infantry battles but they also spent the most time rescuing other troops or offering aid to civilians. If it was by accident or due to a request from the general, you were called in, along with a few other civilians, to offer their medics a few extra hands.

Now, seeing one of those medics, most notably the chief medical officer, wasn’t what you were expecting.

Sawbones looked just as stormy as ever despite the crutches he was hobbling around on. You had heard the stories, the things he’d done in the name of the Republic but your inner idealist wrote them off as exaggerations. Although, when he trooper beside you shifted uncomfortably, glancing at you, it made you wonder. You followed Sawbones’ journey across the room, letting your eyes linger when he stopped at another Wolfpack member’s bed. You huffed under your breath and turned back to the trooper you were treating, gently patting his arm.

“Get some rest,” you ordered with a smile. The trooper flashed you a tense smile before shuffling down, stretching out on his bed. The next patient on your list was a few beds down, closer to where Sawbones was still lingering and you slowed your pace. You had your fair share of run-ins with the Wolfpack’s mean CMO and while his attitude made you want to steer clear of him, there was something about him that had your mind wandering back to him.

Sawbones was harsh on a good day but you had also witnessed a side to him that you’d almost consider...soft. He threw nasty comments around, scaring off anyone who dared get too close but he cared for his injured men with a gentle hand. You had a feeling his threats weren’t empty, but he wanted to help more than hurt, even if he had a funny way of showing it.

Sawbones turned his head slightly as you neared your next patient. His beard was neatly trimmed and you could only remember seeing it long and unruly out on the field. Now that you thought about it, that was the first time you had seen him in anything but his armor; the starchy, gray scrubs made him look softer, less abrasive. You offered the trooper, Dodger, a smile as you approached his bed. It was hard to miss the anxiety lining his expression and you hoped the simple gesture helped a little bit. Dodger’s jaw flexed but he squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath in preparation.

“How are you feeling, Dodger?” you asked, perching on the corner of his bed near his feet.

“Been better,” he mumbled, pointedly not looking at the hip-to-ankle cast he wore. You could feel eyes on your back and ignored the curious glances as you reached for his hand. Recovery was going to take some time but there was nothing unrepairable.

“Enough babying them.” You jumped at the voice from over your shoulder, twisting around to find Sawbones leaning on his crutches, his face twisted in a scowl. “They’re soldiers, not children.” There was a tense silence as you just gaped at him, taken aback by the bitter edge to his voice. Endless, dark eyes bore into yours and it took you a second to shake off the shock.

“Excuse me?” Sawbones arched a brow before shifting his attention to Dodger over your shoulder.

“You live to fight another day. Congratulations,” Sawbones said, his tone flat and uninterested. Dodger blinked a few times before letting out a long, slow breath, and slumping down in his bed.

“Uh, thank you, sir,” he murmured, nodding at the medic. Sawbones grunted before making a slow turn, heading back across the room and all you could do was stare after him. When you looked back at Dodger, there was a half-smile on his face that only grew when he caught the flabbergasted expression on your face.

Then the anger started to build, swelling like an impending storm and you stood so fast you staggered. Dodger tried to get your attention but you were already stalking toward the door Sawbones disappeared through. Finding him was easy, seeing that he could only move so fast and you picked up your pace. You could only imagine the look on your face but it must’ve been ominous enough for any passing staff to step out of your way.

You caught a glimpse of Sawbones disappearing into one of the smaller labs scattered around the medical center and hurried after him. There was one other clone sitting at one of the benches when you stepped inside, the pair turning to look at you.

“Leave,” you ordered, stepping away from the door. The clone hesitated, glancing at Sawbones and it only made your anger spike. “Out.” Sawbones leaned against the workbench, taking some of the weight off his broken leg, his head turning to follow the other clone as he stomped out of the room.

“What?” he asked, arching a brow.

“How dare you," you hissed, storming across the room, carelessly invading his personal space. “I am not one of your subordinates that you can talk down to. You had no right to step in like that.”

“And?” The unbothered air around him made you seethe; any crush you thought you might’ve had on him got shoved to the back of your mind. You ground your teeth together, taking another step closer.

“I don’t care what your problem is. I don’t care why you act like an asshole as if it’s your job but you will not treat me like some incompetent moof-milker.” You jabbed a finger into his chest, relishing in the quiet grunt he let out. “I’ve worked my ass off all my life and if you’re so emotionally constipated that my kindness bothers you, then I’d suggest sucking it the fuck up.”

Sawbones blinked at you, his eyes flickering down to where your finger was still pressed into his chest; when his eyes lifted again they seemed shadowed and it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Suddenly, you felt your confidence withering as his expression darkened, his head tilting down, bringing your faces closer together. Just as you were about to take a step back, Sawbones surged forward, slanting his mouth against yours as he cradled the back of your head.

Your eyes widened comically but it didn’t deter him and before you knew it you were melting against him. His mustache tickled your skin and you found that you liked it, closing your fist, tugging him closer by his scrub top. Sawbones rumbled deep in his chest, parting your lips to slip his tongue into your mouth and you whined involuntarily.

It was just a kiss and yet it felt more erotic than any other kiss you’d shared with another person. The movement of his tongue was a mockery of what you desperately wished his hips were doing and it made you shiver. Sawbones broke the kiss so suddenly your head spun and you swayed closer, following his lips before you could catch yourself.

“Sorry,” Sawbones panted, his hand sliding down to your neck, “I had to. I like it when you get mean.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “You only speak one language: asshole.” It felt like a monumental accomplishment when Sawbones laughed; it was a sharp, harsh sound but it brought a smile to your face nonetheless.

“I speak another language too,” he murmured, bumping your noses together.

“Yeah? What’s that?” You barely finished the sentence before he pulled you into another dizzying kiss. Yeah, you would happily speak this language too.

Ragu list:

@a-single-tulip @wings-and-beskar @anxiouspineapple99 @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @starrylothcat @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @trixie2023 @wolffegirlsunite @clonemedickix @sev-on-kamino @commander-sunshine @dukeoftheblackstar

#clone oc x reader #sawbones x reader #original clone trooper x reader #OC: CT-2697 Sawbones #OC: Sawbones #star wars #the clone wars

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megamindsecretlair · 8 months

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It Started With a Whisper - Chapter 8

Chapter 7 Chapter 9

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Some sentences are intentional AAVE. Non-inclusive language. Cursing, Angst, mentions of violence, Hurt/Comfort, some fluff. Sorry if I missed some!

Summary: You are the front desk clerk who started a few months ago and you have a major crush on Sam Wilson, the handsome and sweet trauma counselor. Sam is released from the hospital, but you go with him to visit Steve. You have an uncomfortable talk.

Word Count: 3,120k

Masterlist

A/N: This is a little more or less a wrap up of CA: Winter Soldier. There had to be a clear break and it's wordy, but these two had to clear the air. Also, sorry babes! I'm going on vacation next week and would have liked to whip something up and save it to the drafts but no go, home life is too hectic. Plus, breaks are important! So, no new chapter next week. I tried not to leave it on a cliffhanger. You can however use this to tell me your theories! Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I love hearing your thoughts!

Taglist: @multiversefanfics @chaos-4baby @leahnicole1219 @capswife @anghstybean

Over the next two days or so, Sam explained some of what was going on. The hospital released him with his assurances that he’d take it easy. You were there for that conversation so he couldn’t finagle his way into your pants. The disappointed look on his face had you ugly snorting when the doctor was out of the room.

Your heart ached listening to him recount how Steve and Nat had stepped into something huge involving Hydra and he volunteered his services. No, you were definitely not happy to hear that. He told you about kidnapping a man but it was to make him tell the truth. How he was ambushed on the freeway by a freak with a metal arm.

You thought he had to be lying about the man ripping the steering wheel out of the car. But nope. What you saw on the news were those Hydra agents taking him to be killed. You asked him not to spare any details and you almost wished you hadn’t. You had been so close to losing him, many times over.

Agent Maria Hill helped him, Steve, and Nastasha escape and he met some man named Nick Fury. That’s when they had the genius idea to have five people go up against an entire spy organization. It was frankly a wonder how they were still breathing. Sam got most of his injuries from the man you saw on TV, Rumlow, and Sam jumped out of a window.

You smacked him at that point. He chuckled and leaned away from you but you were walking down the narrow hospital hallway towards Steve’s room and he couldn’t get far. “A window, Sam?”

He shrugged. He shrugged! Like it was no big deal. “The building was collapsing. Would you rather I stayed and get pancaked?”

“That’s not funny, Sam,” you said.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. It was the only thing I could do,” he said.

For the past week, you had been visiting Steve in his hospital room. Sam played Marvin Gaye for him while you curled in the corner to read. You found that you didn’t want Sam to go anywhere without you. It was silly. Oftentimes, you felt like you were intruding. But Sam never ordered you away. He stayed away from the Steve stuff. You suspected that he wanted to ask permission or something.

In a short period of time, Sam had a real admiration and respect for Steve. It was obvious in the way that he insisted on coming back, hoping that today would be the day that Steve woke up.

You caught Sam looking at Steve sometimes. Like he looked up to an older brother or like a well-respected mentor. Which was insane. They had to roughly be around the same age right?

You mentally did the math. You weren’t very good at math. Point was, there was a bond there. You guessed being shot at, fighting alongside with, and battling for a common cause lended itself to a deep, quick bond. You supposed it was as close to having his wingman back as Sam was going to get.

So you’d keep your teasing down…at least a little.

Sam read quietly and you looked at the healing cuts on his face. You looked at how content he looked sitting and reading. Listening to Marvin Gaye like an old man. You’d have to ask the story there eventually.

“On your left,” a small, tired voice said.

It took you a minute to look up and see Sam smiling at Steve. He looked at you and his smile got bigger, puffing out his high cheekbones. You got up and crossed the room.

“Saving New York wasn’t enough for you, huh?” You asked.

Steve smiled softly. He was still having trouble keeping his eyes open. He finally managed and looked at you.

“Well, you know. Can’t seem to stop finding trouble,” he said.

You slid your hands around Sam’s shoulder. Steve caught the action and you stood your ground, refusing to feel like you were talking to your parents. So embarrassing.

“Thank you, for looking out for him,” you said.

Sam looked at you but your eyes were on Steve. You weren’t quite brave enough to explain how much Sam meant to you or the secret boiling anger you felt. Steve should have known better. Sam was a grown man and you had a bone to pick with him too. However, Steve understood the score. He knew who he was up against. He knew that going up against Hydra was a big deal. A huge deal.

And from the battle that you saw on TV, they nearly lost. Sam still hadn’t shared everything. You wondered if you were even entitled to know everything. As long as Sam would have you, you’d be here. And that made him part of your circle. Part of those under your care that you would protect against Death itself. Protect against Steve if needed be.

You hoped all of that flashed through your face. Steve seemed like the smart type. He sighed and rested his head back against his pillow. His face was cut up ten ways from Sunday. But he blinked those true blue eyes at you and subtly nodded.

Sam was lost and nudged you to tell him what he missed. You smiled at him and kissed his forehead. “I’ll leave you two to catch up. Coffee?”

Sam still looked at you but it was clear you weren’t going to talk about it yet. It was too new. You hadn’t explained the whole protective bear thing you did and you weren’t sure how to do it. One thing you liked about Sam was his total honesty. The least you could do was be totally honest back. No matter how ugly.

You left the room and left them to talk. You took the long way down to the machine to get coffee. You passed by a small waiting room where there were a few family members sitting and shuffling amongst themselves. A TV played in the background.

It was a replay of Natasha’s speech to Capitol Hill. She was so badass. She was one of the coolest people you’d ever met. She faced down aliens, Hydra, and the orange idiots down in government with a smirk on her face like she knew things. Like…knew things.

Her file got leaked to the world like everyone else’s. You weren’t sure if you wanted to spend time going through any of it. It was no secret to you that organizations and the US government were shady. But to White America, it was the second coming of Jesus. They just couldn’t believe it.

You stood and watched as Natasha told Capitol Hill to kiss her ass. Then she walked out as if she were walking away after an explosion. You grabbed the steaming cups of mysterious brown liquid and headed back to the room.

Sam was laughing at something and Steve groaned, trying not to laugh as well. He clutched his stomach and groaned faintly. You handed Sam his cup and he took a sip without complaint.

You were undecided but you braved it anyway. Hell, you paid for it.

“We’ll let you get some rest, man,” Sam said.

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve said. Steve looked at you and you seemed to be sizing each other up again. You were both protective of Sam and he had no clue. “Take care of this one, Sam.”

“I plan on it,” Sam said. He stood up and slid his arm around you. You soaked up his warmth and hugged him a bit too hard.

You smiled at Steve and nodded your head. He nodded his back.

Together, you and Sam left with Sam promising to return to see how Steve was doing. Steve nodded sleepily and went back to sleep. You left the room and headed down to the car, silent the whole way.

“You gonna tell me what that was?” Sam asked. He opened the car door for you and you got inside. Nervousness bubbled in your stomach. But you wanted the foundation of your relationship to be built on honesty.

You waited for Sam to climb in on his side and start up the car. This conversation needed to be in private, where you can see his face and gauge his reactions. “Let’s grab some food and head to your place. We have a lot to talk about it seems.”

Sam smiled softly and nodded. You talked about nonsense while he drove. You talked about what you and Ariel got into in his absence. How the people he counseled never stopped believing in him and his innocence. He was touched and you caught the smile on his face knowing that.

You grabbed food and soon you were at his place. The knots in your stomach were worse. You barely swallowed the drink in your hand as you walked into his apartment. You got settled at his dining room table while Sam piddled a little bit. You got the sense that he was stalling a bit. His shoulders were hunched and he kept finding little things to clean up.

“Sam, come here,” you said.

Sam chuckled and sat beside you at his dining room table. You both opened the wrappers on your food but sat looking at each other. He was the more experienced one when it came to professionally talking but hard conversations were hard no matter what.

“I really like you. And it’s uncanny because I barely like people. No one has patience anymore. They want to know absolutely everything right this second. And people treat introverts like there’s something wrong with them to begin with. But you never have. You’ve always been patient and kind and sweet. You…put me at ease.”

Sam smiled and reached out to take your hand. You gripped his hand and marveled at the strength of him. Those hands were capable of tremendous pleasure and protection. But who defended him?

“You’ve heard about my hectic home life. It’s rare to feel…safe I guess is the word. You make me feel safe. And that makes me want to keep you safe. I will overstep. I will argue until I’m blue in the face that you need to look out for yourself. I will drive you crazy doing anything in my power to make sure you’re okay. You’re mine to protect now.”

Sam looked down at your combined hands. “There’s nothing you can do that will make me not want to be with you. I will take your arguments, your nagging, your protectiveness. I’ll take anything you give me,” he said. He lifted your hand and kissed the back of it. His soft lips pressed gently against your hand. He lowered it back to the table but didn’t stop holding it.

“You’re mine to protect, mine to defend, and mine to hold.”

You smiled. Those butterflies in your stomach took flight and warmth replaced it. Sam had no idea the amount of peace he brought you. There was no guessing with him. It was easy and breezy.

You always thought that you wouldn’t find the type of love your parents found. Before your mom got sick, they were the standard that you set all relationships by. If a man looked at you funny, you dropped him and moved on. You refused to accept anything less. Looking back, you could see why your exes were vitriolic. They hated your high standards. They called you a delusional bitch. They called you bossy.

At the time, you thought they were trippin’. Why was it that Black women were expected to accept the bare fuckin’ minimum? No one told other women to accept mistreatment, lack of help, and lack of support. Black women had to be surrogate mothers, sisters, best friends, doctors, maids, and therapists to their significant others and then berated when they couldn’t accomplish it all. Or dogged out, cheated on, and disrespected when asking for help.

You could accept your part in those failed relationships. You never gave anyone a chance to be who you needed or wanted. You thought it was your divine comeuppance when your mom got sick and your prospects dried up like a shriveled prune. It was why you kept Sam at arm’s length. He needed someone without so much baggage.

Looking at him now, looking at the way he looked at you, you didn’t want him looking at anyone else like that. Possessiveness swept through you without mercy. He was yours. The Devil himself would have to drag you kicking and screaming from Sam.

“You say that now…” You said, hoping to inject some playfulness in all this serious talk. “But that also means I get a little excited when I’m protecting what’s mine. I didn’t have to say the words to Steve, but he knows now that you’re mine and I’m going to protect you. Even from him. He should have known better than to let you get involved in this. This was a suicide mission, Sam.”

“I asked to be involved in this,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter. He should’ve told you no,” you said.

Sam smiled. “I would’ve helped anyway. I…needed to help him. Does that make sense?”

You sipped some of your drink and shook your head. No, you didn’t understand that at all.

“The military trained me to be a soldier. To be useful. To give one hundred percent of myself to defending this country against threats. When my tour was over and I opted out…there was no way to adjust to civilian life. When you’re over there, you’re fighting for your life every second. You sleep with one eye open, you watch where you step, you keep your finger close to your trigger. You have to trust that the man behind you is watching your back. The military kicks you out with no tools to stop seeing danger everywhere.

“And I learned to adjust but it doesn’t leave you. When Steve and Nat showed up, it was a way to feel useful again. To fight against an enemy to protect this country. Hell, the whole world. Hydra is a parasite and they were willing to wipe out millions of people if I didn’t help. There’s no way I could have sat that out.”

You looked away from the raw honesty and contentment on his face. He’d do it again if he had that chance. You knew it down to your bones. But there was no turning away from that fact. To accept Sam was to accept this part of him as well. He was not going to stand by while injustice occurred. That was like asking the sun not to be hot.

You nodded slowly. You still didn’t like it. You downright hated it. But you could accept it. For Sam, you’d accept just about anything.

“Promise me that you’ll stay safe. I don’t care if it’s a lie.”

Sam smiled and leaned forward to kiss your forehead. He placed his against yours and took a few deep breaths. Then he pulled back far enough to look at you. “I promise that I will always come home to you. It’s not a lie. You keep me going. You’re the one I thought about while I was up there. You kept me alive.”

Dammit, Sam. He was breaking your heart and rebuilding it piece by piece. You kissed him, throwing all of your relief and frustration into the feel of your lips against his.

“You better come home. Otherwise I’ll face Hydra myself and bring you home,” you said.

He chuckled. “I’d hate to see you go up against Hydra. They’d run screaming off of rooftops,” he said.

“Damn, right,�� you said.

With that settled, you dug into your food. Sam told you that he got permission from Steve to tell you the rest. To tell you what the news didn’t know. He swore you to secrecy. He made it clear that you couldn’t tell anyone. Absolutely no one. You agreed, knowing that you’d now have this entire life separate from your family. You were in the know. You and Sam were building something between you that nearly no other couple could comprehend.

He told you about the tragedy of James Barnes. It cleaved you into two pieces. There were some things Sam was missing. Some history between Steve and James that Steve hadn’t mentioned. But he was basically brainwashed into attacking them by Hydra soldiers. He was a veritable boogeyman of the spy world. And he was Steve’s best friend.

“The lunatic with the metal arm who ripped the steering wheel out of the car?”

Sam nodded. “It wasn’t right what was done to him. He should’ve died an old man by now. It wasn’t his fault, what happened.”

You blew out a breath while you absently chewed your food. “Damn.” What exactly did someone say to that? The whole time Sam spoke, you couldn’t believe your ears. Brainwashing, mystical Nazi cults, spies, lions, and tigers, oh my!

“Yeah. I don’t know what happened to him. He’s in the wind,” Sam said.

“Still brainwashed? Like…is that safe?”

Sam shrugged and chewed his own food. “I don’t know. Play it by ear, I’m assuming.”

You nodded and wrapped up eating your food. When you were both done, you helped Sam clear the table and throw away the wrappers. Before Sam got any bright ideas in his head, you ordered him to get comfy on the couch.

You draped a blanket over the both of you and snuggled into him. You mindlessly watched TV, laughed, and joked and pretended that he hadn’t just dropped a load of secrets at your feet.

You were nervous. Beyond nervous. You were afraid that even though he made that promise, he may not be able to keep it. You were acting like your mom again. Your faith in his capabilities is what helped you survive this whole ordeal. It would have to be strong enough to be okay with not knowing everything. Not knowing the outcome.

Sam snored softly next to you. You glanced at him. He was so adorable while he slept. His face was relaxed but with a hint of a smile because that was who Sam was. Mischievous, playful, and so damn brave. You snapped a quick picture of him. Then a funny one with the both of you while you stuck out your tongue to show him later. He really was an old man at heart.

You laid your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. Soon, the soft cadence of his snores and the peace he radiated lulled you into a blissful sleep.

Masterlist | Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Sam Wilson Files #Sam Wilson x Black!reader #Sam Wilson x Black reader #Sam Wilson x Fem!reader #Sam Wilson x Fem reader #Sam Wilson x plus size reader #Sam Wilson x reader #Sam Wilson x you #Sam Wilson #Sam Wilson marvel #Sam Wilson imagine #Sam Wilson falcon #Sam Wilson Captain America #Sam Wilson fanfic #Sam Wilson fan fic #Sam Wilson fanfiction #Sam Wilson fan fiction

53 notes · View notes

lcftyambiticns · 3 months

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♔ ❛ ℐ serve no 𝐆𝐎𝐃 but that which stares back at me ——— in the 𝒎irror. ❜

𝑰nd. &. sel. 25+ 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐔𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐄 roleplay blog for ℒORROAKAN ; self-appointed MASTER OF RAMAZITH'S TOWER &. GREAT ARCHMAGE of Baldur's Gate. TRIGGER WARNING for dark / adult content.

𝓱is ❛ amakiir ❜ : @shadovan

INFO & LINKS UNDER THE CUT.

HEADCANONS OPEN STARTERS MEME TAG STORIES: ✍︎ ℳEMORIES.

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

I. GNEREAL I also write on Discord! Feel free to ask for it if we're mutuals c:

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This is no space for OOC drama, IRL political discourse, people who can't differentiate fiction from reality and think it's okay to police adults on what to write on their blogs (go touch some grass). Hard-block. I will also opt for blocking instead of soft-blocking if our rules clash, if you have numerous triggers / DNIs, or to avoid misunderstandings. In most cases, it's nothing against you personally.

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Please don't soft-block me, I have the memory of a soggy pickle. Hard-block.

Protecting your online space is a mature thing to do, and I promise I'll 100% support that. No questions asked, no hard feelings. We're all here to have a good time.

IV. SHIPPING / RELATIONSHIPS Speaking of having a good time: We're sex-positive and kink-friendly in this house. I enjoy raunchy smut as much as the next depraved soul, but I won't write smut on the dash. The steamy stuff will be moved to discord or IMs.

This blog is multiship, male lean. Matter of fact, I love to ship, so if that's something you'd like to do, slide into my inbox. Fair warning; Lorroakan isn't particularly interested in romance or sex, and he's a prick. Ships will most likely be toxic / one-sided (with the potential to develop into something wholesome over time!).

Pre-established relationships: Yes. I usually don't do romantic pre-established relationships (some exceptions may be made for "what if" scenarios, or if I know the mun), but what if your muse was Lorroakan's childhood bestie? Another (former?) apprentice? A fellow scholar of the arcane he used to work with?

V. MUN They/Them, hatched 1995, dog parent, hyperfixating on problematic villains, D&D player.

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄

GENERAL Lorroakan is in his mid 30s, fairly young considering his achievements (mostly obtained through deceitful methods).

He presents himself as the great archmage of Baldur's Gate, but while he is a compentent wizard and keen enchanter, he is nowhere near as powerful as he claims to be.

Lorroakan laid claim to Ramazith Tower after its previous owner mysteriously disappearend, and he refuses to share the knowledge it holds (at least for free).

He is originally from Athkatla, one of the wealthiest cities in Faerun, but he grew up in the shadows of its splendor. His family (mother, father, two sisters, four brothers) could barely make ends meet, but Lorroakan has always been ambitious and harbored dreams of one day being just as wealthy and powerful as the elite of the Gem District. The practice or use of arcane magic is explicitly illegal within the city of Athkatla, but that didn't stop him; he practiced in secret whenever he could get his hands on a spellbook.

PERSONALITY IN A NUTSHELL . . . as interpreted by the mun ; Ambitious, diligent, intelligent, clever, creative ; selfish, arrogant, manipulative, power-hungry, petty, vain.

He has a superiority complex ; he is vain, has an overly high opinion of himself, makes boastful claims that aren't backed up by reality, has a habit of putting down those who outshine him. In truth, behind his inflated ego, he is insecure and has low self-esteem. Not that he'd ever admit that. In fact, he wouldn't even admit it to himself.

(The way I see it) Lorroakan isn't a straight up villain. However, his ambitions and narcissistic nature drive him to commit morally questionable, and at times, outright despicable acts.

CHARACTER STUDIES / RELEVANT HEADCANONS: bad money habits more about his past & why he is how he is

Shippy HCs CONs of being his lover PROs of being his lover NSFW headcanons

#꧁ * pinned !#DNI.

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lookforthefuture49 · 2 years

Text

I made a Submas au and am finally here to share it :> (Aka the World Wanderer Ingo post after all this time)

ANGST WARNING: IF YOU HAVE TROUBLE WITH INGO-CENTRIC ANGST ITS ADVISABLE YOU STEER CLEAR OF THIS! I'm a bad judge of my own angsty content but I want everyone to be safe. I will be placing the content under a read more.

So.

AUs.

Gotta love them!

Love them so much I finally managed to make another. I have one currently private (it's for a roleplay) that, believe it or not, is super sad and angsty. After I made it, I knew I wanted one I could share immediately, but I struggled. That is, until one day when I was vacuuming while blaring Ghost Towns by Radical Face into my ears. My thoughts drifted to Volo's betrayal and the abilities Giratina could possess, and suddenly and very much against my will, World Wanderer Ingo was born.

You may be asking: Kookie, you've said the name 'World Wanderer Ingo' twice now. Why?? Just get to the po-

Yeah.

The point.

The World Wanderer Ingo AU (Or just World Wanderer Ingo) is fairly derivative of canon in the sense that Ingo accompanies the protagonist in the fight with Volo.

We do not know the powers of Giratina, do we? No. Who said Giratina can't curse people? Well I sure said it could, and that's precisely what it did. Well, it was GOING to curse the protagonist, but someone just H A D to get in the way.

So now Ingo's in a bit of a predicament. I mean, getting cursed can't be fun, and Giratina wasn't exactly being lenient with this one, either. As in, now he's getting sent to a new corner of the Pokemon Multiverse every month. Any universe or time period is game... except for his actual time. He gets a month in each place and then he's in another.

Not to mention he may or may not be Immortal now. And cannot die.

What a fun time.

The only bright side is that he's experiencing time differently than his own- he could spend 3 years getting thrown around and it would only actually be 3 weeks. Not that he knows that, and it sure seems weird that it works that way. Blame it on the difference between universes.

Basically all of these decisions (the immortality, inability to die, and time differences) are plot convenience so I can still give this a semi-happy ending when I feel it's finished. Haha :)

I would really appreciate asks about universes he could end up in- from mystery dungeon-esque worlds to alternate universes to Ultra Beast planes, I am basically up for anything. Mostly because I am out of ideas.

If you decide to send an Ask about a universe he could wind up in, please don't be too descriptive with any gore you might use.

Once again, anything is game

As long as you don't send any incest ship asks. Please don't do that I'm a twin myself and it makes me uncomfortable. That's all I ask. Please keep it to yourself with this.

I want to write some fics for this and I have a song (it's Ghost Towns) downloaded for an animatic too. Idk if those will come to fruition but yeah. If you have any ideas or just,, like this incredibly not-developed concept please tell me because I will be incredibly happy.

So yeah I have a dumb au now

I think I might have left out some stuff I made on accident,,, send asks I'll share it. If I can remember what it was.

#World Wanderer Ingo au #subway boss ingo #angst warning tag #submas angst

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

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Milkshakes

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Overwhelmed when Loki saves you, you respond to his kindness with fear. Determined to apologize, you seek Loki out to thank him with a couple of milkshakes and some fries. Warnings: a tad angsty but much fluff A/N: This is actually one of my favorite fics I’ve ever written. Hope you all enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely

Disclaimer: Picture not mine

Of course it had to be during your lunch break that a supervillain attacked the city. Of course today you decided to go out to eat instead of packing something. And, of course you had to be walking by the building right as it crumbled. You started praying to any god that there may be to save you from being crushed. Though, you hadn’t actually expected one to save you.

In the moments before you would have been flattened, Loki put an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. Raising his free hand, a glimmering green force field appeared around you. The falling matter bounced off of it and landed around you, the shield offering strong protection. Of course you were thankful to be rescued, but did have to be Loki? You knew he was supposedly reformed, but so many news outlets still ran stories about how he was dangerous. A ticking time bomb. You’d never quite formed an opinion on him, and it was causing great conflict in you now. On the one hand, he looked very intimidating from this close, what with his impressive stature and horned helmet and all. But on the other, he was saving you from the actual super villain destroying the city. Perhaps if there wasn’t so much going on, you could think more clearly. Alas, your thoughts were a messy, confused jumble, leaving you fearful of the super-powered god in front of you.

“Are you alright?” he asked in his deep, smooth accent as the shield shimmered away into nothing. The god brought his arm to shield your eyes from the small pieces of debris still falling, the other one still around your waist in a protective manner. “Are you injured at all?

“I, um, uh, I- I,” you stammered, backing up. “Mhm. All good. Uhhh, thanks.”

You were certain you must be the most awkward person in history, but instead of making fun of you, Loki just looked sad. Even with the hurt behind his eyes, his arms shot out to catch you when you stumbled over the wreckage. He guided you away from the obstacles to a place where you could walk unhindered. He moved back from you as soon as he’d finished escorting you.

“You are welcome,” he finally responded. “I am sorry for frightening you. You should get somewhere safe.”

Without waiting for a reply, he left to rejoin the battle. You started retreating from the scene, steering as clear of any large structures as you could, cursing yourself the whole time. Loki had saved you, and you’d been afraid of him. What kind of nonsense was that? And you were certain he got that kind of reaction all the time, based on the way he’d looked at you and realized your bumbling actions were a result of fear. Fear of him after he’d so carefully and gently saved you.

You felt stupid and petty as you joined a throng of people being guided away from the scene. After nearly two years of working to protect the city, Loki should have gotten more praise and love than he did. You realized it now, only moments too late. Someone should tell him he was appreciated, a hero. And if no one else was going to do it, you resolved to do it yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting was dreadfully boring, but someone had to go. Seeing as all the other Avengers were busy, that someone was Loki. Besides, Stark had told him it would be good for his image to head up the restoration of the city this time round. The committee and resources were all a part of Stark Industries, of course, so Loki felt there should be some employee to take care of it instead of him. But whatever, he’d been roped into it now, and he figured that there was some merit to what Tony has said about his reputation.

Luckily, with a week having passed since the battle, great headway had been made with the repairs, and the meeting was much shorter than expected. Itching to get outside, Loki headed to the main doors.

“You don’t understand,” Loki heard someone say to the receptionist as he approached the front desk. “He saved me the other day. I have to thank him. Please?”

Loki just rolled his eyes as he pushed through the turnstile. He couldn’t even begin to count how many fans had tried this tactic to meet their favorite Avengers. Granted, no one had ever tried to see him, but he was coming to terms with it. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder which of his colleagues you were trying to get through to see. Perhaps Steve, or maybe even Thor. Loki was so lost in thought it barely even registered when the voice switched from pleading with the receptionist to calling after him.

He turned and stopped, recognizing the person jogging after him as you, who he remembered from the battle. “May I help you?” he asked in the most pleasant tone he could manage.

“Yeah. Uh, hi. I don’t know if you remember, but you saved me the other day,” you explained sheepishly. “You know, during the attack.”

“Yes, I recall.”

“Oh! Good. I just wanted to say thank you for that. For saving me, I mean. And the city.”

“I see,” the god replied, suspiciously raising an eyebrow. “Well then, you are welcome. Really, I was just doing my job, though.”

“Well, I still appreciate it.” There was a lapse in the conversation, as neither of you were really sure what to say next. “Can we go somewhere? Like for coffee or something. Can I buy you a coffee?”

Oddly enough, that made Loki distrust the situation even more. Ok, maybe you were actually a super nice person who had a guilty conscience for making him feel bad, and maybe that prompted you to come thank him properly. But that you wanted to buy him something, presumably to show your newfound appreciation? Absolutely preposterous. The only people who ever did something remotely as kind as that were his fellow Avengers, and not even all of them or particularly often. Any of the other people who openly supported him didn’t show appreciation, per se. It was more that they felt he’d done enough to redeem himself at this point, which wasn’t exactly the most thrilling phrasing either. But here you were, awkwardly shuffling your feet and asking to buy him coffee. Loki supposed he shouldn’t pass such an opportunity up. And yet, he probably was going to.

“No thank you,” he finally replied, shaking himself from the shocked, catatonic state he’d fallen into. “I do not much like coffee.”

As he walked away, he thought that would be the end of it. That perhaps you’d only been talking to him in the hopes he’d invite you to see the other Avengers, too. That maybe you’d go back to trying to wheedle your way inside at the front desk. Much to his surprise, you came hurrying after him.

“Wait,” you called. “Ok, so scratch the coffee. How about ice cream or tea or a milkshake or something? Anything really, you name it.”

Now that you were outside, he observed you again while he thought, as if hoping the sunlight would reveal your true intentions. He couldn’t find anything malicious in your expression, just some sort of anxiety. Loki must have taken too long in coming to a decision, because you started rambling.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to pressure you into it or anything, but I wanted to do something nice to say thank you and-” you cut off and bit your lip. “Is this stupid? It sounds stupid. It’s probably stupid. I’ll go now. Again, I’m really sorry to have bothered you.”

“One moment,” he said before you could make your retreat. “You said anything I want, correct?” You eagerly nodded as Loki got an idea. “Alright then. I would like a five course meal at the nicest restaurant in London, please and thank you.”

“I, um. I know I said anything but, uh...” You noticed his serious expression had turned into a sly grin. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. My apologies, but I simply could not resist,” he chuckled.

You began to laugh, too. Not in a way that made him think it was out of courtesy or pity, but an honest to goodness laugh. Briefly, he thought it one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard, before quickly shaking the idea from his mind. It was ridiculous; he hardly even knew you. But you seemed pretty adamant on showing your gratitude. Plus, you’d apologized to him, which was more than he could say for most of the people in his life.

“You know, I would usually say tea, but a milkshake actually sounds quite lovely right now,” he told you once you’d calmed down. “That is, if the offer is still open.”

“Of course it is!” you happily told him, the smile on your face growing. Not to mention you seemed much more at ease. “I actually know a great diner that’s just a short walk from here, if that works for you.”

“By all means, lead the way.”

It took approximately ten minutes to get to the restaurant. After properly introducing yourselves, you kept up a light dialogue. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly; just hesitant, as if both of you were afraid of saying the wrong things and shattering the blissful moment. Loki still couldn’t bring himself to fully trust you. Such a feeling just wasn’t in his nature, especially not when it came to someone he just met and had a considerably rocky start with. Even so, he found himself enjoying your company.

Arriving at the diner, Loki held the door open for you as you walked in. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait for a seat, the classic red stools at the bar free at this time of the afternoon. Loki swiveled the seat back and forth ever so slightly, and found himself chuckling when he caught you doing the same thing. You offered him a shy smile as a waitress handed the both of you a menu.

The God of Mischief had only ever had the pleasure of drinking a milkshake once before, a vanilla one when the team had convinced him to try it on one of their outings. He’d thoroughly enjoyed it and planned on playing it safe by ordering the same thing now. When you asked what he was getting, though, you were having none of that. After nearly five minutes of rousing debate, you’d finally talked him up to chocolate. Part of him was having so much fun with the discussion and how animated you became about the topic that he almost didn’t want to concede. But the waitress came back to take your orders, and he didn’t want to make her leave and come back again.

“Oh, and some French fries too please,” you added after ordering your favorite milkshake.

Loki shot you a perplexed look. “French fries?” he asked after the waitress moved away.

“Yeah. Please tell me you’ve heard of them before.”

“I have. I have even eaten them a few times before, believe it or not,” he answered as you turned to face him, leaning on the counter. “But are you certain they go with a milkshake?”

Your jaw dropped open. “Of course they do. Listen, Loki, you haven’t lived until you’ve dipped French fries in a milkshake. You’ll love it, I promise.”

You continued to help him expand his knowledge of Midgardian cuisine as you waited for your order to come. Once it arrived, you dipped a fry in your shake, just as you had said, trying to convince him just how delicious it truly was. The trickster skeptically picked one up and mimicked your actions, plunging it into the frothy liquid. The second it hit his tongue, his face lit up in pure delight.

“See, I told you,” you laughed.

“Indeed you did,” he said back, the corners of his eyes crinkling from how wide his smile was.

An hour and another order of fries later, the two of you finished your snack. Loki was in a better mood than he’d been all month. Honestly, he was a little sad when the bill came.

“Are you certain you do not want me to pay?” he checked as you fished out a twenty from your wallet to cover the low-cost meal. “Or we could split it, at least.”

“Loki, it’s fine,” you giggled. “This is me thanking you, remember? And, honestly, it’s me apologizing, too. I was just startled the other day and there was a lot going on. I hadn’t ever really thought about what I’d do if I met an Avenger, least of all if it happened while they were saving my life. I was overwhelmed; I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about yourself or anything.” Without really thinking about it, your hand moved to rest on top of his. It was a surprise to Loki, but a welcome one. “Because—and I can say this with absolute certainty—you’re amazing, Loki. You do so much for the city. I hope you know how appreciated you are, at least by me.”

His other large hand came to cover yours. “Thank you, darling.” He didn’t mean to say the pet name, but it just slipped out. “I cannot express how much that means to me.”

Somewhere in his heart, he wanted to tell you everything, make you privy to all his inner turmoil. But that was buried underneath years of pain and rejection, too heavy to move for someone he didn’t know all too well, no matter how connected he felt to you in this moment. So he let the urge pass over him, hoping his thanks would be sufficient enough in expressing how he felt.

“You’re welcome, Loki,” you told him, squeezing his hand. Then you stood up. “So, I guess I’ll be letting you get on with your day then. This was really nice, though. Thanks for agreeing to it.”

“You’re welcome and thank you,” he replied. “It really was.”

After waving goodbye to each other, you exited and Loki stayed where he was, picking at the last few nubs of fries left in the basket. He didn’t know exactly why he didn’t leave, too. Just that something was missing.

“Ah, young love,” the elderly waitress who had been serving you all day said to Loki as she came to collect the empty dishes. “Magical, isn’t it?”

“Love?” Loki choked out. “I am afraid you are quite mistaken. It was not even a date. I hardly even know them. I will probably never even see them again.”

“And you’re just gonna let them walk out?” she tsked. “It’s a right shame, sonny. Let me tell you, you don’t just let something like that walk out on ya.”

He looked at the door for a second in melancholic contemplation before bolting out after you. He shouted his thanks to the waitress as he pushed open the glass door, exiting out into the harsh sunlight. As his eyes adjusted, they scanned for your form before it walked out of his life forever. Spotting you, he jogged in your direction and called your name. Funny, he thought, how just earlier that day the roles had been reversed.

“Loki?” you asked, stopped on the sidewalk as he caught up to you. “Are you ok? Did something happen?”

“Actually, the problem is what did not happen.” He kicked a rock with his shoe, as suddenly the ground became very interesting to him. His insides were a nervous mess. Clearing his throat, he gathered his courage to continue. “See, I do not have any way of contacting you again. And it had been my sincere hope that you would want to do this again, let me take you out somewhere.”

“That sounds amazing,” you agreed, jotting down your number on an old receipt you’d found in your wallet. Smirking, you parroted back his words from earlier. “How about you take me for a five course meal in London?”

“Oh, so you have turned my own jokes against me. How very clever of you,” he laughed. “What if we just went to see a movie, instead?”

“Perfect,” you nodded. “Just text me a time and place, and I’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it. As soon as I buy the tickets, I shall let you know.”

“Sounds awesome! It’s a date.”

As you parted ways, for real this time, it registered in Loki’s mind what you’d said. He hadn’t particularly been thinking about his phrasing or in what way he was asking you to hang out. But apparently you’d taken it as an invitation for a date. As Loki arrived back at the Tower and flopped onto his bed, already dreaming of your laugh, he found he was quite happy that you had.

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a-little-revolution · 2 years

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Hello friend, I saw a post you reblogged regarding the horrible fact that some p*dophiles may be attracted to those with dwarfism due to their height. Utterly horrifying. How do you, (or other little people, if you have heard their take on this) avoid that kind of person? are there red flags you have to look for in potential partners? I can't imagine how that would feel.

Have you found that this can affect your self esteem??

Of course you know this, but you do not have to answer any part of this that you don't want to or makes you uncomfortable. I get that it's a really sensitive topic. Thank you for your time and energy <3

Hello friend! Please pardon the delayed response, I had to take some time for self care before answering this question as it is a particularly tough subject. I'd like to start with a content and trigger warning for p*dophilia mention for anyone reading. I won't be getting into explicit details but I will be discussing the topic since I think it's a rather important one.

If that's not the vibe for you right now: Please enjoy this video of Chella Man (a trans, deaf, youtuber of colour) and their partner adventuring in Chicago: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yK7OvydMy30

Unfortunately as a little person I've come across a dishearteningly large amount of men who've found me appealing due to perceiving me as child-like. (I feel my dwarfism also made me a larger target for violence in my middle school and teen years.) The biggest red flag for such instances has been the fetishization of my body size - the over enjoyment of my small hands, my ability to be picked up, etc. These sorts of predators will often reach out over the internet at first rather than face to face, and will often embrace the notion that I am "socially rejected", often trying to claim that they are the only one to see the value of bodies like mine. It's all very toxic in nature. As a child, I was indeed the victim of such people on more than one occasion, but I've learned how to steer clear.

As an adult it's much easier to tell the difference between someone seeing my body as a fetish vs. beautiful. The two have very different airs about them. One is obsessive and objectifying in nature, while the other is kind and caring.

Hope this helps! - Elliot (they/them)

#asks #dwarfism #tw p*dophilia mention #disability

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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Dove

Pairing | Roman Sionis x reader

Summary | there is another little birdie that Roman spends his time with, one that coos away from the spotlight and remains hidden. She is his dove, the love that he refrains from sharing with anyone, a prisoner that does not realised that she is locked in a cage.

Warnings | mentions of violence, can be perceived as imprisonment of reader or not if you want, difficulty with getting pregnant, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Canary walked into the apartment of the boss, nervous to begin her first day at being Roman Sionis’ driver. Initially, the woman hadn’t been sure what to expect of the living space above the club, she suspected that it would be in a similar

She hadn’t asked for a promotion, the woman was content with bellowing her voice in stage, singing like a bird. But now, as a consequence for protecting the Harley Quinn, she was now a driver, a replacement for the one that no longer had the ability to move a vehicle from place to place.

Sionis’ home if it could be called that, was above the club, perched as a nest so that the man behind it all could see everything that occurred around. The windows, large and perfect for viewing out of, were great scopes out into the bustling city, to which the Black Mask brought some fear out into.

He was a killer, that was known. A torturer, a face that Gotham feared. It was merely circumstance for how Dinah ended up working for him in the first place. It was not at all what she had been aiming for, the singing gig was as far as she had assumed she would get, but now, she was starting a new and more personal job for the same scheming man.

But it appeared that she was not the only dame in Gotham that was given the request to walk into the home of Roman Sionis, for a lavished and well clothed woman stood, staring like a songbird out towards the outside world. Her eyes were cast down, surely watching the commotion that riled the streets on a daily basis.

“Ah, there you are.” The voice belonging to Roman Sionis abruptly made Dinah inwardly jump, though she didn’t allow the surprise to dictate to her body. Instead, she turned around to face the mobster, adjoined by Victor that followed after hun, an shrewd smile ragged on his face. “My new driver, are you ready for your first day.”

“Singing was kinda my thing but -“ she watched his expression fade to one folded with creases and instead plastered on a smile, quickly changing the direction of her sentence, “yes, I am. I’m not the worst driver, though, it was a shame of what happened to the last one, concerning the fault of Harley Quinn.”

Sionis rolled his eyes at the mention of the jester like woman, making a noise of disgust, before adding details to Canary’s perception. “He deserved it, that man was bound to get into trouble somewhen, the only difference is that he kept his face. He had a frequent thirst to make my dove uncomfortable, isn’t that right my lovely?”

The woman faced away from the window, glancing convincingly towards the man that had just spoken to her. Not saying a word, she nodded, feeling all the eyes except her own that were present within the premises of the room were on her. It wasn’t much different to normal, but it was a vow she had taken, she did not speak to anyone besides Roman.

Doves mated for life, and within their relationship, she insisted that she treat him the same, which was where the nickname that she had so idly been called had originated from. She was loyal to this man, who was powerful and wealthy all on his own, and that proved alone that she needed nothing more than him to be the centre of the world.

“Hi, I’m Dinah.” She attempted to greet herself, but all that she earned from the spoilt woman was a blank stare, as though she were processing the woman. “Is she okay?” Her question was directed towards either or out of the men, and assumed, it was one of them whom responded instead of her.

“Y/n.” Her eyes snapped up to meet his own, and inside, her stomach crawled as she looked up into his stern gaze. To her relief, he turned back to Dinah, after dismissing her of the title of a white bird, and striking an induction of anxiety within her gut. “She doesn’t speak to anyone, it is difficult for her to trust anyone, let alone exchange worlds with them. Is that not right dove?”

Biting her lip, to reduce the sounds of whimpers that were threatening to spill from her mouth, she stiffly nodded her head, causing a grin to smother the man’s face. “Today, Canary, you will be taking me and y/n to the clinic, we have an important appointment to attend to, is that not right my lovely girl?”

Again she nodded, feeling a pit of happiness swell in the space of her womb. She could feel her dreams moving closer to the reality that she silently lived in, the things that she greatly wanted within her reach.

“I’ll go and start the car.” Dinah announced, wanting nothing more to leave the room. The atmosphere had not at all been uncomfortable in the slightest, but it was strange to see the extraordinary owner of the club that she had worked up appear so domesticated. Though, she thought y/n to be anything but, it was as though she were scared to allow any truths to mumble from her dormant tongue.

She was sure that no one in the entire city had seen the woman out in the open and free. It would not be a surprise if she were imprisoned in that apartment, though it was confusing, for it did not seem like she wanted to leave. Instead, it appeared as though she was scared of anyone else that was not Roman.

Usually, people usually feared him, knowing full well of what he was capable of. Though, instead, y/n was comfortable in his presence, which was one strange thing out of many. Dinah was extracted from her thoughts as the back doors suspended open, the happy couple entering the vehicle, and adjusting their seat belts. “Which clinic?” She asked, glancing back in the rear view mirror at the pair.

Roman had his gloved hands trailing up the thighs of his dove, as though they were sleek platforms of ice, and his fingers were dancing upon the frozen surface. “The one around south, a few miles before that place that sells the terrible artwork.” His taste in everything gave have her an initial and well acquainted idea with what place that he was on about, and thus she started the vehicle.

The strong woman remained in silence, copying y/n’s frequent behaviour as she drove, noticing her small gestures towards the elder man. Her nose rubbed around his collar, directly breathing in the fog of his aftershave, which Dinah could smell already from the distance of the front seat. Though, it appeared sweet as the pair brushed specks of stray hairs out of the others eyes, and padded down their blazers.

Finally, the driver stopped, watching as the pair abandoned the vehicle, and went inside of the small corporative building, hand in hand. Roman’s grip was much tougher than her own, squeezing all human feeling out of her palm, half dragging her inside. Both seemed to appear eager for what lay inside, though, Dinah did not share their enthusiasm.

She had no idea of how long they would be within the clinic, and thus, she had to wait for their return before she could steer and leave. Absentmindedly, she picked the skin around her nails as she waited for Roman and y/n to come back out to the car, the wait feeling like forever as she put on the radio, bobbing her head subtly the tune that she often heard on nights out.

The driver was fast to snap her head up as she heads footsteps, and they belonged to her cruising passengers, that seemed rather deflated. Their once relaxed and worry free mood was nowhere in sight, and instead, when opening the door for y/n and climbing in afterwards, he slammed the expensive door, crossing his arms in thought.

“Is everything okay boss?” She warily asked, feeling as his eyes sent daggers towards her once she used her voice. He released a prominent scoff, shaking his head disappointedly at her enquiry. Roman repeated her question to himself, arrogantly laughing at it.

“No it’s fucking not! I don’t ask for anything, I do what I am supposed to, and the world cannot even let my dove bare my child!” He sulked in his seat, pouting profusely out the window as he once again took in the truth behind his words.

Dinah knew better than to speak, and instead left Roman and his endless rant uninterrupted. Though, as she adjusted the rear view mirror, she caught a glimpse of y/n, smirking quite pleased with the state that her lover had gotten into. It slightly scared Canary, finding the situation that she was mulling over to be silent but deadly.

So far, it was all quite clear. She did not want to carry the child of the business man, and the results that she had received were anything but a curse. She liked to think of them more as a godsend and a blessing.

#roman sionis x reader #roman sionis x you #roman sionis imagine #imagines #imagine #xreader #dc imagines #birds of prey x reader #roman x reader #Roman Sionis one shot #roman sionis fluff #Roman Sionis angst #roman sionis fanfiction #Roman Sionis fic #ewan mcgregor x reader #Ewan x reader #ewan mcgregor imagine #ewan mcgregor fanfiction

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jabbagabba · 3 years

Text

La La Land

Read Prologue

Warning ⚠️

Triggering subjects: disassociation, manipulation, mind control, grief. (READ AT OWN RISK)

Wandavision: spoilers (up to episode 6 - just to be safe), violence

———

Pools Of Despair

You weren’t sure how long it’d been, the drive feeling as though it had taken a lifetime. It might have been just down the road and you wouldn’t have been able to tell; time seemed to move torturously slow under Wanda’s control.

She tried to keep herself calm besides your frozen body, already thinking of a way out as she turned the steering wheel. But it was too late to go back.

‘No other way. No other way.’ The words replayed over and over in her head as she finally made it to the front of the building, and it was the first time she fully looked at you. Your face was stoic, the only sign of life being the soft breaths escaping your mouth. You couldn’t look at her - even if you wanted to - and as she reached a hand to your face, the feeling of complete numbness returned.

During the drive there had been small moments of clarity; moments where for the first time you felt in control. It was almost euphoric being able to push through the fog.

But then, as quickly as it had subsided, she would crawl her way back in.

Even now as she turned you toward her fully, you tried to swim through the heaviness, but the black swirls of grief and anguish just got tighter the harder you fought.

Wanda sighed in annoyance. “You can’t go in looking like that.” She pulled at a strand of her hair with a small huff. “Need glasses.”

You were sure if you had control of your body, the pain of your neck would be unbearable, the awkward angle surely making every muscle strain as you were forced to watch her pull apart the car.

This had to have been owned by the only man on the planet that didn’t carry sunglasses in their car. Wanda almost laughed, a punishment for stealing it? She couldn’t be sure.

“Well...” Wanda pulled the blue and white baseball cap by the brim from under her seat. “Better then nothing.” She gave a small smile as she adjusted it on your head, pulling back and grabbing your hand and letting it rest in her lap. “If there was any other way, I swear, I would let you go. But... I just... I can’t live without him.”

You said nothing as she cried.

———

“Head down, get Vision. Leave.” Her voice plagued your every step, each word carved into your brain as you finally reached the front desk.

‘Sword’ was a nice place - or at least had nice flooring - and from the bright light that filled each and every inch of the glossy tile, you knew there had to be a lot of glass. It was a government building after all.

“Can I help you?” Her voice is chirpy, a polite smile painted on her lips, you don’t need to see her eyes to know it wasn’t anything but genuine. She lets the wheels of her chair carry her forward, her computer forgotten besides her as you near the desk.

“Do you have... a meeting?” She smiles again, more forced and you’re able to see the golden pin on her chest that proudly says ‘Mary’ and try once more to float above the darkness.

“I -“ The word leaves your lips aprubtly and the fight drains from you just as fast. “I’m here to inquire about some of my father’s equipment. I’d like it back.” You let the darkness swallow you whole.

“And who are you again?” Mary is quick to pull her deskphone to her ear, hand hovering over the numbers.

———

The name that fell from her lips made Mary freeze. She looked up with wide eyes, both fearful and exited.

Starks were top priority at ‘SWORD’ - she was sure they were top priority everywhere - and as she desperately tried to recall if her boss mentioned anything about Stark equipment, the girl’s patients quickly wore thin.

“Can you please just tell me where to go? I have a long drive ahead of me.” Her voice was a sharp contrast from her apparance. The girl’s voice was stern and loud while her body was scrunched in on itself, eyes glued to the desk. Mary took a glance over the desk and saw the dark fabric of a dress, the hat didn’t even match the girl’s shoes.

“Right.” Mary said. “I’m sorry, just a little... starstruck.” She tried to keep her cool, turning again in her chair and started typing as fast as possible on her little keyboard. The atmosphere was thick with uncomfortable silence and Mary had to make sure not to shiver in the girl’s presence. She scrolled down the list of names and let out a small “ah” when she found your name. Just as quickly as she clicked on it, a pop up window filled the screen

STARK - Access Denined. Call Security

She felt sick; her nerves making her skin pucker as she tried to keep calm. When Mary finally found the courage to move, bile reached through her throat as she saw red eyes looking back.

“Ahh!” Mary was quick to jump out of her chair.

“Fine.” The girl sighed, hand flat on the counter as she took long strides around it. “If you won’t help me.” A red trail flowed through one of the doors; slithering like a snake as it wrapped around the shell shocked receptionist. “I’ll do it myself.”

———

Wanda’s mind had warped, grief and anger become one as she ripped through each and every room of the building. No one was safe from the witch’s wrath as she swung them through various glass panels and equipment. By the third turn she took, guards had given up, opting to instead try desperately to get out of her way.

She had left you at the desk, too transfixed to care and as she heard the various shouts of alarm from down the hallway, she was glad you weren’t in her way.

———

The group of four man were shocked; watching as the two guards dropped their guns and put their hands up for mercy.

“We’ll give you what you want. Please!” One of them - Felix - cried as the woman barreled through the double doors.

Wanda simply flicked her hand and he was sent flying to a wall, his partner following.

“Where is he?” Her accent was thick and the youngest tech almost asked her to repeat herself. “Where is Vision?” The stunned silence only fueled her anger. “You.” Red swirled under one of the men’s feet and lifted him from the ground. “Where?”

If the man could have, he’d be shivering in fear right about now. His life was in the hands of a deranged woman who with a simple flick of her wrist could send him plummeting down ten floors.

Wanda tightened her hold on him in warning and he knew he had to speak.

“Behind us.” He said. “There is a set of double doors, turn left and there’s an examination room.”

“He should be there!” A colleague on his left was shaking as she turn to face him. “He’s not lying.” Wanda let her power swim under him once more beofre gently letting him go.

“Thank you.” She gave a small smile. “Now, go.”

They didn’t have to be told twice.

———

Wanda felt as though she couldn’t breathe, the sight of her dead lover on the table was crippling. Vision was a dark grey; his eyes blank as they stared into her. If it wasn’t for the table itself she would have probably collapsed on to the floor as sobs took over her.

“I cant. I can’t. I -“ The words fell from her lips like a mystical chant. She couldn’t look at him anymore, his body was nothing but an empty shell of parts.

When her body turned to ash; Wanda was ready to die, her last shred of humanity died with Vision. The battlefield would be her final resting place. She chose to spend her last moments hoping that If there was a God that they’d be merciful, that she’d be allowed to spent her afterlife in blissful ignorance.

But instead she woke up.

Five years had passed and she was still there, only now she was alone. It was only after the death of Tony Stark that she let the floodgate of loss fill up her veins. While Thanos was alive, she had a mission; kill him and reverse the snap.

Wanda never imagined the pain that followed. She should have died that day, why couldn’t she have died that day?

Grief had a knack for turning the strongest people into helpless pools of despair.

Vision deserved better. That was what go her up, got her to calm her tears and push herself up. She wasn’t going to let them win. Vision was hers to mourn, to love, and hers to take care of.

She had a new mission, one that was stronger then her need to submit to pain.

But... she needed help carrying him.

———

Your body moved through the halls, following the tethered rope of energy that wrapped around your waist. If it wasn’t for your boots, your feet would have been covered in cuts from the sharp edges of the broken glass that filled the hallways.

The fog had cleared more then before and if you tried hard enough, you might’ve even been able to pull free completely. Wanda was exhausted and the fight had been ripped from you So you let her pull you, let the fog seep through every inch of you.

And as you entered the small room, you forgot you were suppose to care anymore.

“I need you to hold onto his legs.” She said softly, hand stroking his cheek. “Easier to carry both of you.” Your body moved again and you placed a gentle hand onto vision’s ankle.

Wanda wiped the last of her tears away, grabbed onto his arm, and all three of you were lifted off the ground.

———

Hot air blew through Wanda’s hair making her hands continuously push back strands from her face as she walked. The afternoon sun was unrelenting and she had to take several short breaks.

The car was too dangerous to return to - a swarm of agents was not something she wanted to deal with - and controlling someone for almost 24 hour straight took a lot out of her. Her hold on you was weak enough for you to sometimes fully take over, her control turning into a dull ache at the back of your brain.

As she walked in front of you thoughts of running flooded through your brain but the walking had tired your body out, and you were sure that if her little pushes weren’t there, you’d have already collapsed. Even if you had the strength to do it, the empty roads had long ago turned into tall trees and bush. You were in the middle of nowhere and getting loss in the woods with a heartbroken witch was not something you wanted to deal with. So, like a trained puppy, you followed silently behind Vision’s dragging body. It wasn’t hard to keep up, she was as slow as she could be while Vision’s body left a dirt trail.

“Break.” Wanda breathed. Who knew an empty little spot of grass would be so inviting? “Sit.” You felt a small push and follow it down to the ground. You let your fingers grip the direr under them, the cool breeze making you sigh.

“Where-“ The sound of your voice startled both of you but she stayed still. “Where are we going?”

She said nothing, choosing to instead turn on her knees and pull Vision forward by the arms.

“When I was little-“ Wanda smiled to herself as she stared down at Vision. “- I use to dream about this field. Me and Peitro went past it everyday during the summer. It had all these small flowers growing.” You listen intently as she giggles, eyes losing focus as she is hit with the memory. “I always tried to sneak past the fence... but, I was alway stopped by someone.” Her mouth twitches and you feel the pulsing return in your neck. “It’s probably nothing but dirt now, like everything.”

“Where are we going, Wanda?” You try to keep your voice soft, afraid of ruining the small moment as you reached out for her but she was quick to stop you, hand glowing red and inches away from your face.

“Don’t.” She warns. You nod in silent apology.

“We’re not far from a road.” Wanda let’s her hand fall back to her side. “I want you go and call whoever you need to.” You’re almost startled when her control leaves fully from your body, it almost feels empty. “Tell them what I did, or don’t, I don’t care. I have what I want.”

“Wanda -“

“Please.” The crack in her voice makes tears pool in your eyes. “Just go.”

You stand on shaking legs. The world was spinning and you felt as though you had just gotten off a rollercoaster but you tried to steady yourself. Unsure of where to go, you turn to her once more for guidance and she simply points behind you.

Your conscious wouldn’t let you leave. Wanda was tired and you were afraid of leaving her alone. Regardless of what she did; you knew you couldn’t blame her, she had lost everyone.

In a way, so did you.

“I’m sorry about Vision.” Wanda looked up again and gave you a small nod. “About Pietro, about everyone. I wish it was different.”

“Me too, Stark.” She let her fingers wrap around your hand and squeezed. The warmth from the dock returned and you couldn’t help but give her a small grin of gratitude. “I meant what I said at the funeral.”

Both of you were so wrapped up in your own little bubble, you didn’t even question why the birds stopped.

————

Tag list (open, just ask)

@white-wolf-buckaroo @y-napotat

All my stuff is open, and I’m always happy to hear from people so feel free to let me know what ya thought. I always get stuck halfway through writing but I hope it wasn’t too hard to read.

Next chapter will be fun.

#wandavison x reader #wandavision imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #stark!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #teen!reader #daughter!reader #dark!wanda #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #Wanda vision

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purebarnes · 3 years

Text

courage to change— (fem!avenger x bucky!)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ➢ finally developing feeling for each other, bucky and y/n each spend the night with each other hoping to resolve their feelings

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ➢ 2k

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀꜱ ➢ honestly nothing

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋꜱ ! ➢ it’s been like a week but hope you liked this—pretty bad for not being here.

it was pretty awkward for everyone as no one spoke and they didn’t care or dare to open their mouths, it obviously felt weird for everyone to be together again. driving off to sharon safe house, was a pretty nice place to live—she wasn’t going to lie that the woman had some style. sharon and her used to be close but that all changed when they decided to help steve. she never wanted sharon to get in trouble but she couldn’t persuade her father to let go of the charges between all of them.

sharon blamed y/n and was upset at her because she got away with breaking the law. she made it seem more of a higher stake then it was, she got off easily because she was a stark but she still faced the consequences. despite everything bucky did to tony’s parents, he was upset and hurt and he let it all out on bucky. the man had every right to be hurt but nothing could make up for it.

when the news that y/n’s mother had been murdered, she was devastated because she lost the one woman that was still there for her. steve and tony had argued about what they were going to do to bucky but steve kept telling tony that it wasn’t him and it was the winter soldier. at that moment in time, all y/n wanted was vengeance against bucky but he didn’t want to hurt or fight her. she didn’t care.

bucky noticed y/n staring ahead and looking at the rear-view mirror and looking at herself until he snapped out of her deep trance. he asked her if she was okay and she lied once again. they pulled in to sharon house and once they got out, they went inside. the inside was much nicer then she thought it would be, she looked amazed at the furniture of everything in her place.

y/n trailed along to see all the paintings sharon had placed in her house, “huh, looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well—some point, i thought if i had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. you know how much i can get for a real monet?” sharon asked sam walking towards, “easy. deactivate your hustle mode, you sell fake monets.”

y/n could hear the distant conversation between sam and sharon talking about how much they could get for the paintings. zemo spoke up about how they were real, “it’s true. you know, half the artwork in museums like the louvre is fake. real stuff sits in places like this.” bucky said making y/n look up to see sam pulling up his phone to search something up. she couldn’t understand what was happening in the current situation, “okay, guys, i see what your doing. you’re more worldly than good old sam.”

the girl went to see what he typing, “yeah. what’s google say?” bucky asked as y/n went to gently pat sam on the shoulder trailing behind bucky when sharon told them that they needed to change into something else. while sam was changing his shirt, sharon brought some outfit to y/n so that she could wear it. “here you go.” sharon spoke handing her the clothes. y/n grabbed the clothes, “what’s this?”

sharon rolled her eyes gently, “you looked uncomfortable. maybe these would work—we are the same size anyway. give or take.” she mumbled a thank you to the other woman and went to go change. y/n reached towards a bathroom and she bag an taking off the tight shirt and examined the scar on her shoulder.

it was the little scars that made her happy to see where she came from, if it was a battle against bucky with natasha and tony or if it was thanos fighting against the avengers. she hoped it would stay there forever. putting on the clothes, she made it out to where everyone was talking. she could hear some faint things between sharon and sam—nothing she could make out though.

y/n walked to sit across of bucky while he glanced at her but none of them said anything, sharon noticed the tension between bucky and y/n and wanted to see what was up. “what’s this?” sharon pointing to both of them and sam chuckled telling her that everything was becoming awkward for them. “they aren’t really talking.” sam pointed out whispering but y/n could hear him because he wasn’t whispering to quietly.

she furrowed her eyebrows and turned to look at sam, “you’re not the best whisperer.” she said rolling her eyes at him while he kept having the conversation with sharon before she came in, “by the way how is the new cap?” sharon asked while bucky was already getting aggravated by the mention of john. “don’t get me started—please. you buy unit all that stars and stripes bullshit.” sharon scoffed.

she moved towards bucky and y/n, “before you were his pet psychopath, you were mr. america! cap’s best friend.” sharon replied taking a seat and grinning at her comment. “wow. she’s kind of awful now.” y/n chuckled at him before sam went to go around all of them to keep the conversation of the soldier serum. “karli morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum.” sharon looked unsurely about the whole situation that they were doing. “you should really steer clear of all of this for your own safety.

y/n looked up from the floor that she was looking as she went to speak up, “it might be a risk but we need to figure who did it—we got a name. wilfred nagel.” sharon had a anticipated glance before she got up from the seat, “nagel works for the power broker.” getting up to get another drink—“we need your help, sharon. i can get your name cleared.” sam still tried to persuade her into helping them but she kept refusing each time. “you haggling with my life?”

“not like that—i don’t buy that. you pretending like you can clear my name.” she said while sitting down staring at sam and only him at the moment. “okay, maybe it is hypocrisy. maybe your right. what happened to you. but i’m willing to try if you are.” y/n stopped listening to sam’s conversation and finally looked up at bucky when he mentioned him. “they cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he’s met.”

as said before, sam wasn’t a quiet whisperer because both bucky and y/n heard what he had said about him. “i heard that—i don’t trust charity.” y/n chuckled light but not enough for anyone to hear or see her. she thought it was funny to her even though she knew what sharon did—so many times y/n did anything to help sharon and sam. “how about her? you help us out, she will get your name cleared.”

this time y/n looked up wondering how she got dragged into the conversation but sharon still was sure, “she probably wouldn’t do it—she will.” bucky spoke making y/n widen her eyes as she never agreed to do anything and quite frankly it was just she didn’t know if she could do it. “ok, deal.”

she inhaled before nodding and agreeing to do it even though she want sure if it was something that she could surely do. sharon let telling them to enjoy the party and y/n didn’t do the quite thing she told her to do. she saw a lot of people and she decided to have a few drinks and she layer her eyes on a pair of blue eyes. she put her drink down as he came over, “you’re drinking—i mean, is that a crime?” y/n joked to bucky as he shook his head.

“you don’t drink though, it just seemed different for you to drink. go ahead.” he said pushing the drink back towards her but she pushed it away, “you don’t need to take care of me—who says that what my intentions are.” bucky breathed out rubbing his temples. “look, i can drink and do whatever. it isn’t hurting anyone.” she scoffed to him.

bucky couldn’t understand how the conversation turned into her her upset with him, he just wanted to talk to her simply without having any problems. “why do we have to argue on the littlest things y/n.” bucky said shaking his head, sighing at the girl. y/n turned to bucky and looke straight into his eyes, she mumbled a sorry while feeling the alcohol starting to do its worst in her body. “i’m just gonna head out.” she went to walk out the bar and went to go and see the stairs.

she felt dizzy at the lights and couldn’t stand up straight and fell against the wall as bucky went to run up to her and catch her before she fell. “let me help you, please doll.” he pleaded to y/n as she gave up and nodded while bucky pulled his hand out to help her up. they made it towards a a room that y/n was going to sleep at but once bucky brought her in the bed—she laid down drifting away.

bucky smiled lightly seeing her at that state, so sleepy and beautiful at the same time. he admired her for awhile before going to tuck her into the blankets to keep her warm as it was a bit chilling in the room. he placed his phone on the side of her bed and reaching to grab it but she turned to the side hovering over the phone. he sighed, leaving the phone and closing the door gently.

awhile later, bucky knocked on the door but with no response, bucky tried to see if she was awake or just ignoring him. she was actually doing both but not on purpose, the man with metal arm peeped his head open to see her staring at the window. “you awake y/n?” she turned around and nodded and saw him on the edge of the door. “what’s up?—i just left my phone.” bucky walked over to her bed and reach down to grab it but stopped when they looked at each other and we’re meeting each other’s eyes.

it took him a second to see what he was doing, he leaned forward so close to her lips and she just didn’t move to see why they were doing. the amount of space that was left wasn’t that much when bucky paused and asked, “if i do this, i won’t be able to stop.” he warned her and she nodded understanding what he would do. “i know.” she whispered grabbing his cheek and bring down his face to give him a soft kiss and most needed one.

y/n grabbed his shirt pulling him into a deep and more meaning full kiss, she couldn’t stop feeling a sort of way towards him. she needed him and he needed her more then they thought. bucky pulled his jacket off and tossing it towards the floor and started to take off her shirt and stated placing his mouth on her neck started kissing it when she moaned at his mouth on her neck. she heard a knock and cursed. y/n rolled her eyes, “sam?—yeah, uh you alright?”

“yeah. sam, just hit myself. do you need anything?” she yelled but he replied no before leaving and into the room he was staying at—y/n looked back up at bucky and shook her head while pushing him off of her, “wait? what’s wrong?”he frowned at her when she reached the bathroom. “nothing buck. it’s just a lot for me, i don’t want to stop you—what are you talking about?” he asked entering the bathroom.

“you are meant to be happy buck, I just don’t think... i can be that person for you.” as she said that, bucky grew aggravated at her, she couldn’t understand what had happened. “maybe you aren’t the one.” she looked appalled at him before stepping back trying to hear what he said to her. “but i want you. i just want to feel you.” she chuckled at him, patting his cheek. “me too. let’s go finish then.” she said pulling him into the bed and finishing what they had started.

on the other side of the door was sharon and sam listening to them, “i knew it!” sam yelled out making bucky groan at him and yelling him to leave before he would make him leave.

#bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #fatws bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #marvel #fatws series #sam wilson #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic

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theeslytherinslut · 3 years

Text

12 Grimmauld Place (3/?)

Pairings: Sirius Black x reader, Remus Lupin x readers brother

Word Count: 2,072

Warnings: angst, language

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

It was the only room you’d seen thus far that didn’t have peeling layers of dark-colored paints, ranging from deep emeralds to smoky greys and jet blacks. Instead, it was painted likely the lightest shade of grey Sirius could convince his mother to agree to, but looking around, that was probably the only thing she would’ve approved of in this room.

Laughing to yourself quietly, you had a stark, strangely sad realization: this was still a teenager's room. Scantily clad Muggle women postered the walls draped across expensive-looking cars, Gryffindor apparel was strewn everywhere possible, what looked to be a Quidditch banner hung from the ceiling, and various Honeydukes wrappings littered the floor. A large, expensive, very elaborately made chair stood in the corner of the room, buried underneath layers of dark clothing.

“Sorry, probably should’ve cleaned up...wasn’t exactly expecting company though, not that you’re a bother! Merlin, it’s lovely to have someone so love--so...it’s nice to have someone else here.” Sirius finished, as red as the scarlet robes hanging from his canopy bed as he stuttered his way through his explanation.

“This is...this is incredible,” you said, moving through the room to find a picture of Sirius and James with their arms thrown across each other's shoulders, laughing jovially as Remus shook his finger at them in the distance. Chuckling to yourself, you continued to look at the handful of old pictures that littered his dresser.

Another picture nearby showed Sirius sneaking up on James as he very clearly flirted with Lily, her face lighting up with laughter as James jumped up in fright.

“He was always so easy when Lily was around...” Sirius trailed off, smiling sadly at the photos before you. Looking to the other corner of the mirror, you saw three more photos shoved into the cracks.

The first was a picture of the group of them lounged around the Great Lake; you’d guessed Peter was behind the camera because only the four of them smiled up at you. James’ head lay in Lily’s lap, hers rested on Sirius’ shoulder, who waved up cheerily at you. As Lily sat up to meet James halfway for a quick kiss, Sirius stretched out his arm and pulled in a sheepish looking Remus, ruffling the top of his head affectionately. You smiled at the sight of your brother with his friends. The happiness that radiated from this picture was intoxicating, you never wanted to look away.

The next was of them in what must’ve been the Gryffindor common room. Being a Slytherin, you’d never seen the inside of anyone else’s common rooms. Large, comfy furniture was placed strategically around the room, drapings of what you’d assumed to be scarlet and gold draped the walls, an inviting fire dominated the center of the room.

This picture was another of the group of them, but this time a frightened-looking James and a smirking Sirius were evidently getting scolded fiercely by Lily. You laughed upon seeing Remus standing behind Lily in a sort of gesture of good faith but seemingly offered no words to his insolent friends.

“Hexed a fourth year Slytherin,” he explained, you turned to glare playfully at him, and he smiled, “The git tried to stick gum in my hair! I think there might’ve been an incident with myself and a girlfriend of his, though...Anyway, James caught him just before and...well, he was with Madam Pomfrey for a few days, I think. Lily gave us a right good telling off for that one, came close to Minnie’s scoldings,” Sirius sighed wistfully, likely reliving the day in his head.

“Wait...” you trailed off upon seeing the last.

The third picture was in the Great Hall; though many people were in the picture, the center focus seemed to be a group of Slytherin girls standing in the entryway. There, in the center of the photograph, laughing heartily, was you. Your Y/H/C hair was seemingly shining underneath what was likely a very sunny day, your teeth gleaming as you laughed at something someone had said.

“Is that..?” you turned around, looking to find him sheepishly smirking at his feet.

“Yes, I believe it is,” he said. A smile was on his face, but he was scrutinizing yours. “I think I nicked it off Remus at some point.”

“Why?” you shook your head. Surely Sirius Black hadn’t been fawning over you as well? Surely you hadn’t wasted all these years apart because neither one of you had the bollocks. “You could’ve had anybody...”

“Well, I could--and did,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not proud of my whorish boyhood--though it only seems fair having given my recent dating history, funnily enough, a dementor's kiss is not a hot thing.” he broke off when you let out a rip of laughter. “But all that is behind me. I can still hear James suggesting I settle down with a nice girl instead of working my way through the female half of our year. Remus gave up on that idea long ago, I think.”

His smile turned sad at the mention of his friend, and your eyes fell back to the picture of the two of them being scolded by Lily.

“I’m sorry, Sirius,” you said honestly. “The last half of your life...it must’ve been awful. Losing your best mate, your brother essentially, and then being blamed and imprisoned in fucking Azkaban for a decade for it.”

Sirius didn’t answer, merely looked darkly at the floor. You took your cue to steer the conversation in another direction. Tightening your towel around you, you cleared your throat.

“So, this nice girl James wanted you to find, any luck thus far? Do I know her?” you asked, lightening the mood.

“What do you think? This decrepit house isn’t exactly overflowing with options. Unless you count portraits of past, insane, family members, then I’m swimming!” he laughed, skirting around an answer.

“Nothing like a little pureblood incest,” you laughed in return. A draft of cold air blanketed the room, and you shivered. “So, er, I didn’t exactly have time to pack a bag on my way out; you don’t by chance have any clothes you wouldn’t mind me using, do you?”

“Oh, right! Sorry, it’s absolutely freezing in this drafty old house.” Sirius commented, gesturing to your goosebump covered arms. He turned and clapped his hands, flying to his closet.

“Well, I’ve got a bunch of my old school clothes in here...Seems dear old Mum had at least half a heart. This stuff might fit you a tad better,” he murmured, running his hands along the swinging clothes in his old closet. After a moment, he let out a barking laugh. “Here!”

He threw you a maroon hoodie, and you gave him a look, knowing he was teasing you about the housing. Opening the balled up fabric, you smiled despite yourself seeing the front. It was a Gryffindor Quidditch sweatshirt. You grinned giddily as you turned it around and saw Sirius’ last name splayed across the back, complete with his number. What you wouldn’t have given to wear this years ago...

“Did you need pants, too?” Sirius asked, an odd look on his face as you smiled down at his sweatshirt.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. This looks like it should cover everything--I’m a hot sleeper.” you explained sheepishly.

Turning, you padded softly over to the adjoining bathroom and clicked the door shut.

What a turn of events. Standing in Sirius Black’s bathroom, you took stock of the night.

You’d been attacked and almost killed by Fenrir Greyback, only just managing to escape what would have been a horrid death--or worse. After being mended by Madam Pomfrey, Sirius Black was to continue nursing you back to health. Sirius Black, your greatest childhood crush, and the way your heart hammered in your chest even now told you it might not be all the way extinguished. Never once did you think you’d see where he lived, let alone be undressing in his bedroom.

And his bedroom...what a time capsule it was. It made you feel like you were in school again, hoping to catch him in the hallways between classes, always peering through the stacks of books as he and James teased Remus during his studies. And further, it seemed all that time you hadn’t been the only one watching. Sirius Black had been watching you almost as much as you had him in your school years. Evident in that hidden in his bedroom was a photo of you, a photo you didn’t know he snuck. A photo surrounded by the greatest hits of his school years, surrounded by those he considered family.

Trying not to let it all go to your head, you groaned when you slipped the sweatshirt over your head. Though the pain in your body wanted to bring you back to reality, the full, uninhibited scent of Sirius sent you reeling once more. A sickly sweet, smoky scent was the most noticeable. Tobacco, maybe? Suddenly, the image of a young Sirius lounged beneath a tree on the skirts of the Great Lake was brought to mind, smoke rolling from his mouth as he brought his hand down from his lips. Of course, another inherently muggle form of rebellion, a double whammy to his family.

Something woodsy lingered underneath, as if the hoodie had been swaying in the breeze of some forgotten forest for the last twelve years instead of shut up in this abandoned house. Head swimming, you gingerly stepped out into the bedroom before you got lost in your thoughts.

“So, er, about the bed situa...” Sirius said, trailing off as he turned around to see you leaning against his doorway, sweatshirt draped to the tops of your thighs.

“Sorry, shit, I can put something else on if you want...don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I mean, we’ve known each other all this time--sort of, anyway. I must be like a sister to you...this is probably super weird. I’ll just fetch a pair of pants,” you nervously rambled. Sirius’ face had not changed since he saw you, and you were beginning to feel incredibly anxious about it all.

“No, no. Seriously, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sirius said, his old playful smile playing on his lips. Rolling your eyes, you damned the blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Here, I found you these," Sirius said, tossing you a pair of thick brown socks. "I remember hearing you whine about your hands being cold all the time, figured the same might apply to your toes in an old drafty house like this.”

“You remember?” you asked him.

“Yes, well, I overheard you whining about it a time or two, and Remus was always mentioning you whining about being cold...I just remembered, that’s all.” Sirius said, his tone becoming oddly choppy.

“Well, you’re right. My toes were positively popsicles, but I didn’t want to be a complainer or anything, though...” you trailed off, pulling the thick socks onto your ice-cold feet.

“Ah yes, get attacked by a murderous werewolf, blast yourself into a wall, shatter a few bones, but lest you complain!” Sirius teased you, smiling once more.

In the next second of silence that occurred, your stomach rumbled loudly, and you smiled sheepishly.

“Bastard got me right in the middle of making dinner,” you explained.

“Well, come on then. I’ll have Kreacher fix us something; what would you like?” Sirius asked, seemingly happy that he could help.

“What’s he good at?” you shrugged, hungry for anything. Winking at you, Sirius barked for Kreacher as he led you down into the kitchen.

“Yes, Master?” Kreacher croaked, bowing so lowly his nose brushed against the dusty floor.

“Fix us some herb dumpling stew, won’t you? And some of those delicious little mince pies you make.” Sirius said, and at once, the elf nodded and stepped over to the stove.

“And some apple pie?” you asked hopefully as you sank into the seat across from Sirius at the long kitchen table.

“Whatever she asks, Kreacher,” Sirius commanded, smiling fondly at your excited state.

“Of course, Master...Kreacher gladly serves those pure of blood...gladly...whatever she asks..” he agreed in his funny speech patterns.

While Kreacher was cooking, Sirius reckoned it was time to alert Remus and the rest of the Order, and you couldn’t find a reason to disagree.Sighing, you watched him disappear to retrieve Remus.

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morizoras-cave · 4 years

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Uncomfortable

Jake Gyllenhaal x Teen!Co-star!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff-ish?? mentions of mature shit

Description: Your boyfriend forces you to do something you’d rather not, and the whole experience has made you feel weird and uncomfortable. Jake certainly knows something is up and when you tell him, he’s not happy.

Warnings: Non consensual shit, sexual assault, mentions of blowjob, asshole bf

(A/N): hey i just wanna say if you wanna request something please do it! im realizing the benefits of having others come up with your one shots hahahaha.. also no one should force ya’ll to do shit!!! freedom baby!!

You were 5 hours into a 10 hour plane ride, just watching the night sky, as you crossed continents. Your tired eyes blinked at the sparkling stars, but your mind was buzzing too loud for you to sleep.

Yesterday, right before you left again for the press tour, your boyfriend had forced you to do something. Or, well, not forced. Heavily implied he wanted you to do something. Or made you do something. None of those sounded right.

You were trying to justify it in your head. “Please,” he’d said, “you’re gonna be away for the press tour. What’s bad about satisfying me just once?” Then slowly, his pleads had morphed into commands. You didn’t want to do oral. It wasn’t something you felt ready to do. And he’d forced you. Or not.

I mean he was right. You were gone a lot, and if he had to stay faithful, you had to give him something right? But you knew you were worth more than that. But was he justified? I mean, he’d just grabbed your hair and-

You shuddered. You didn’t want to think about it. Maybe that was best. Just moving forward and forgetting it. It was too difficult to figure out, you decided.

“Hey, N/n,” Jake mumbled groggily beside you. He’d nuzzled comfortably into his neck pillow, and fallen asleep like virtually everyone else on the plane. You looked at him and smiled softly. “What are you up to?”

He sat up straight, apparently done sleeping. His hair was messy and his baggy clothes was ruffled and curled. You looked to the screen in front of you, realizing it was pitch black, and you’d done nothing but worry the entire plane ride.

“Nothing,” you chuckled bitterly. Jake’s eyes furrowed and he frowned. He put his warm hand on yours, that was lying on the arm rest. You snapped your head to him and saw him, searching your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. You looked down, wondering whether it was too stupid to talk about.

“It’s just that.. My boyfriend did something that made me kind of.. Uncomfortable, recently,” you choose your words carefully, knowing that if you said something rash, it could make your boyfriend sound very bad. Which he wasn’t. Right?

“What did he do?” Jake’s tone grew much more serious. You blushed, shaking your head. It was a weird thing to say out loud.

“It’s nothing too serious. It’s just.. You know, I didn’t feel very ready to do.. A certain act with him.. And he kind of.. Made me?” Your tone was almost questioning, reflecting to Jake how you couldn’t quite figure the situation out.

“He made you do something?” Jake repeated.

“Well, no- no, that makes it sound.. Too real. I guess..” As you were trying to defend your boyfriend, you realized that he did actually force you. I mean, he grabbed your head! “He.. He forced me. But he was justified!”

“Y/n, forcing someone can never ever be justified..- Okay, tell me what he.. forced you to do.”

“Jake- Please, just let this go, it’s embarrassing!” you whispered to him.

“Y/n.”

You sighed. Jake’s eyes wouldn’t leave your distressed form. You were young and inexperienced in relationships, and Jake didn’t want you to be steered into a dark place because of some asshole. His hand was still cemented to yours, and he squeezed it comfortingly.

“He-.. He wanted me to give him a.. A blow job, or whatever.. And I said I wasn’t ready, but he said that since I was leaving for such a long time, he deserved it. I continually said no, but.. He forced me.”

As the words left your lips, the reality of it hit you. He forced you. Instead of respecting your comfort, he forced you to do something you didn’t want to, just so he could feel pleasure. Tears pricked your eyes.

Jake had gone quiet, seemingly bubbling with rage. He clenched and unclenched his jaw.

“You need to break up with him,” he said finally, his voice low. His eyes found yours again, tears on your face. Putting his hand on your cheek gently, he wiped the tears. “You’re gonna break up with him.”

“Yes,” you agreed firmly, nodding your head. It was now crystal clear in your head, the act of saying it out loud seemingly clearing your perspective on the matter. You sniffled and smiled at Jake, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank you me! Just write him a text already!” You couldn’t help but giggle at Jake’s silliness. It made you feel better.

You and Jake spent the next hour or so crafting the perfect, most hurtful message possible to your soon-to-be-ex. Jake laughed at all the silly and petty stories you told of him, but a part of him remained serious. He never wanted you to go through anything like that. It wasn’t funny to any degree and he made sure you knew that. Lucky you, that Jake would help you like that. No one would ever hurt you like that again, not on his watch.

#jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal #marvel #marvel x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #mysterio #quentin beck x reader #mysterio x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #avengers cast x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #avengers cast x teen!reader #avengers x teen!reader

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nanamismoonchild · 3 years

Text

deceiving the moon chapter 2 --> ferryman

pairing: god!namjoon x goddess!reader

genre: fluff, angst, smut , greek god based au

warnings: choking, mentions of death, blood mention, hair grabbing, reader gets a lil scary

Summary: You’re a beauty. He is handsome. You’re Life. He is Death. You love him. But does he love you? There’s only one way to found out. And it’s by being the Queen.

prev. / next

It was a lovely day out in the forest by the home you shared with your mother. Warm and the Sun God, Hoseok, drove his chariot proudly across the blue sky. The flowers had been blooming and the tree nymphs were growing strong green leaves. The river bubbled and babbled as you dipped your feet into the coolness.

It had been a long harvest for the people who lived on the Earth and you had promised the children that you would play with them while the parents worked to pick their vegetables and fruits. Your mother, the goddess of the harvest, had been quite generous this year and the harvest was bountiful and would feed many for a long time. It took weeks for the harvest to be picked, stored, and then reseeded again. Needless to say, the children had run you ragged. A dip in the river was what you needed to relax your worn bones.

Slipping off the dress you wore, you slide further into the deep water and lie on your back. The river would take you anywhere it pleased and you would let it. It would be a symbolism of you letting the fatigue wash away.

Close your eyes. The river whispered. Relax.

Smiling, you did as it said, knowing the river wouldn’t cause you harm.

It was night by the time you reopened your eyes. Selene was driving her chariot high in the sky just as her sibling was a few hours ago. You swam over to the bank and lifted yourself out of the water. Water dripped off of your body, but it didn’t bother you. The aches from your played-out bones were lifted. You felt rejuvenated. The wind blew across your body, making you shiver, but drying you off.

You had no idea how far you had drifted with the current; however, the tree nymphs would more than know.

Touching one leaf from a tree, you asked the natives of the forest, “How do I get home?”

Nothing.

“How do I get home?” You asked a little louder.

Still nothing.

“What is wrong? Have I angered you? Is Pan angry?”

Pan was the infamous Jimin, companion of the nymphs and god of the wild. Whenever he was upset, all of the forest beings he tended to become upset as well.

However, they would always talk to you. No matter what.

“Hello?”

The forest stayed quiet-unhelpful in your plight to return home to your mother who would be wondering about your disappearance.

“Please, help me,” a voice called out. It was hoarse and disembodied.

“Who’s there?” “Please, help me,” it called out again.

You stepped around the tree that still gave you no answer, and found a man with a blue aura surrounding him.

Your eyes widen as you realize why the nymphs aren’t speaking.

There was a dead man in their view and it was uncomfortable and a sight that is not normal. He should have gone straight to the Underworld instead of remaining on land.

“Sir, are you lost? Why has Thanatos not come to lead you down?” The man simply gazed at you, his dark eyes seeing right through you almost.

“I have not a clue how to help you. Thanatos is the only one who knows where the Doors to the Underworld are located…” you trailed off, remembering information your mother had told you years before. “Actually, I do know where to take you. Please, follow me. “

You knew you should have just started the trek home. The pity for the lost soul had overwhelmed all of your common senses. The natural leader and innate care that was inside of you wanted to take the man where he would not suffer and turn into a ghoul. A suffering soul wanting nothing more than to be alive.

Also, your mother was the goddess of the cycle of life and death. It would tarnish her reputation if the daughter she bragged about could not uphold her name.

The man had no footsteps, but you could see the blue aura following you as you trekked across the mossy terrain. The directions your mother had given you had been based on the location of your home--the navigation was tricky and the only hope you had were the stars as the nymphs were still silent with the spirit in their presence.

“Always follow Orion,” your mother had told you.

Orion pointed in the direction--north--and you followed not wanting to get more lost than you were. You were still naked with a strange man following you. The thought almost made you pause, but the need to get rid of the poor man and get home to hot tea kept you going on.

Finally, after walking for miles it seemed, you came across the clearing that your mother told you to steer clear of. It was one of the many ways to get into the land of the dead.

She always feared that the man who ruled the dead himself would rise up and kidnap you. What a worrisome woman. No man would dare.

The man behind you stood next to you, awaiting instructions.

“You are to tap the grass three times. Do you have a drachma?”

He shook and lowered his head in what you deemed as shame. Your pity for him grew. He died a poor man or he was robbed and killed for his money. No wonder he had stayed on Earth. He could not pay the fee to Jungkook, the ferryman, to cross the river Styx.

That had always angered you as a child. Why should the dead have to pay to cross the river? It never made sense!

“Fine. I will take you down myself. My earrings are drachmas. One should be enough to pay for you. Let us go. “ You saunter to the middle of the field and tap the ground three times with your foot.The man did the same. After a minute or two nothing happening, you turned towards the man, hands on your hips.

“Well, this is a waste of-eep!”

The ground had opened without warning, dropping the both of you into a tunnel before closing. Had you been wearing any sort of clothing, your butt would have been saved from the pain, but alas, you were not. Your butt throbbed from hitting the cold ground.

Groaning, you picked yourself up and wiped the dust off of you. The man had fallen perfectly onto his feet.

“Say not a word to any of your ghastly friends.”

He nodded, a tiny smile appeared faintly on his face.

Making your way through the tunnel, you find yourself hearing the moans of the others who had faced Death. A woman could be seen with tears in her eyes as she looked forlornly at a couple who hugged each other near her.

“We’re here. Now we just have to find Jungkook and pay him his fee.”

You moved around a few of the dead folk in line and searched the banks of the Styx. There was no boat and no Jungkook in sight either. He must've already taken a load to the other side. There was no telling how long it would take for him to come back.

There really needed to be a change in this realm. Paying to go to the other side? Having to wait hours on end to wait on the ferryman? The ferryman should have something faster and bigger than the boats that humans use. Odysseus’s boat had travelled far and wide, facing great dangers before being ripped apart by Poseidon in a great rage. Why couldn’t the ferryman of the dead have the same or better?

Fuming, you failed to hear the tell-tale ding of the boat that the ferryman rode, signaling his arrival back. The blue man waved an arm in front of you, forcing you out of your annoyance.

“Thank gods we did not have to wait so long. I simply want to get you on that boat and then get back home.”

At that, you grabbed the blue man’s hand and stomped over to the arriving boat. He was to be the first man on the boat if you had your way. The drachma earring was already in his hand after you took it off while waiting for the ferryman.

Jungkook docked the shabby small boat that could only fit possibly 3 people including him. He was a ghastly white and seemed to have the most brittle bones. He moved slowly without care.

“Could you move a little faster? I have to get home.”

Jungkook peered at you through the hood that he wore, his doe eyes being the only innocent feature that the gods had graced him with.

“You are not dead?” “No. I am the daughter of Demeter. You know me as Persephone. I would like for this man to cross. He was wandering around the forest and scaring the tree nymphs.”

The ferryman blinked at you before turning to the blue man, who had been making it a point to look everywhere but at Jungkook.

“Let me see your payment.”

The blue man glanced at you for assurance before presenting the earring drachma. His hands shook a little.

Jungkook paused and scoffed. A sound that you did not want to hear.

“This is not sufficient. This is an earring.”

“Yes, but it is a drachma. I pierced the drachmas and placed them into my ears for emergencies. This is an emergency. They are more than sufficient. Please let him on board. I will only beg this once. He is confused and lost. I want to see him cross into the Underworld.”

Jungkook’s eyes flashed. His doe eyes had narrowed and become menacing.

“They are not sufficient. It is fake. And you are fake as well. Persephone, the daughter of Demeter, would have no business leading the dead into the Underworld. This man will stay on the banks of the Styx and become a wraith since he does not have sufficient payment.”

A demented laugh erupted from you. You try to cover your mouth with your hands, but it was a failed attempt as the crazed giggles came in waves. Thankfully you didn’t snort. How unladylike that would be.

“You are a fool. Talking to me as if I am not higher than you. If I were not humble, I would look down upon you.”

You took the drachma from the blue man’s hands and kicked Jungkook so he would kneel in front of you. Grabbing a tight fistful of his matted wet hair, you yanked his hand up and shoved the damned silver coin into the ferryman’s throat, making sure it cut his gum and bled.

“You should know better than to call me a fake. I have all the business to bring the dead into the Underworld. Let this man on your boat and take me as well. I would like to speak with the god of the Underworld, Namjoon, himself. There needs to be some changes around here. Starting with you.”

You let him go. He sputtered and spit out the blood that had been accumulating in his mouth before rushing to grab his rower and ushering you and the blue man onto his boat.

He dinged his bell and pushed the small boat off of the dock.

He uttered not a word the entire short journey.

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americancowgirl19 · 3 years

Text

Loving them Both - Part Two

Summary: Michael finds out about God’s betrayal. Y/n vows to stay by his side no matter what.

Warnings: Fluff, angst,

*Please read!* Reader: I wrote this with the idea of the reader being a female but there’s no pronouns used so it can be read as a gender neutral reader.

Pairings: Adam Milligan/ Archangel Michael x Reader

Word Count: 2,421

A/n: So, here’s part two. As I was writing this I had a few ideas for a part three... So, if you guys like the first part and this one and would like a part three, let me know!

Part One

Masterlist

The longer Adam and Michael stayed out the more nervous I got. I vaguely knew who he was with and what I did know about them didn’t help settle my nerves. I was starting to regret convincing them to go talk to Castiel.

My eyes snap towards the door when I hear someone knocking. I instantly smile and practically dash towards it. My hand freezes just before it touches the knob. A thought crosses my mind.

Michael has a key.

Slowly, I lower my hand. My heart drops in disappointment but I remain alert wondering who exactly is behind the door. Leaning forward, I look through the peephole and see a large man. I don’t recognize him at first but then recall a photograph I had seen a while ago. A photograph of Adam’s brother’s.

I don’t know why Dean Winchester is standing on my doormat nor do I know how he figured out where I lived. I do know, however, that he isn’t someone I should trust blindly. While from what I can tell from Adam’s stories the Winchesters try their best in any given situation, I also know that people tend to get hurt around them.

Castiel shows up at the diner demanding to talk to Michael. Michael goes and has been gone for hours. Now, Dean is showing up on my doorstep. I didn’t like any of this.

I remain silent hoping that he would just go away. However, I quickly caught on that it was just wishful thinking when the doorknob began to jiggle. Looking through the peephole again, I notice Dean trying to pick the lock.

Cursing under my breath, I quickly move away from the door. While I did rely heavily on Michael and Adam to keep me safe, I lived a large portion of my life without either of them by my side. It wasn’t the best point in my life but I do know how to protect myself.

By the time Dean managed to get in, I was hiding in a nook in the wall. I could see Dean but he couldn’t see me. He stepped inside silently. It was slightly impressive how quiet he was being despite how large and tall he is.

I watched as he walked around the apartment looking for something. I had a hunch that that something was me. He walked near me. When he turned his back to me, I raised my Beretta 9mm and pulled the hammer back. The movement of the hammer is the only sound in the apartment. Dean instantly tenses. I assume this is a sound he is very familiar with.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that you’re Y/n,” Dean says slowly lifting his hands. I hum in response. Dean slowly turns around and I come out of the nook. I make sure to keep my distance while keeping my gun trained on him. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” He reassures me. I smirk.

“Does it look like I’m scared of you?” I ask lifting an eyebrow.

“Fair enough,” Dean nods. “I’m Dean,”

“I know,” I respond shortly. “What I don’t know is why you’re here,”

“I’m gonna ask that you come with me,” Dean says. I adjust my grip on the gun. Deans eyes flicker to it before looking back at me. “It’s about Michael,” My stance tenses.

“You better start making sense or I’m gonna shoot you and find him myself,” I tell him. Dean shifts in his spot and clears his throat.

“Look, I can explain everything on the way back to the bunker,” I raise an eyebrow. “That’ where Michael is. I’ll take you to him,” He promises. I eye him cautiously.

“I’m keeping the gun,” I say slowly lowering it. Dean nods as he lowers his heads. “What’s going on?” I ask as I follow him out of the apartment.

“How much time do you have?” He laughs a bit tensely.

By the time Dean had filled me in on everything I needed to know we were almost to the bunker. I sat in silence as I absorbed all the information he had told me. I didn’t like anything he had to say but the truth is rarely comforting.

“Are you the same Y/n that knew Adam before-”

“Before he was killed by ghouls?” I cut him off. Dean shifted in his seat and didn’t respond. “Yeah, I knew him then,” I told him softly. “Back when everything was much simpler.” I whisper looking out the window.

“Were you uh... together... then?” Dean asks. I turn my head back to him.

“Why do you care?” I ask frowning my eyebrows.

“Just trying to understand,”

“Understand what?” I press.

“My brother’s situation,” Dean says glancing at me.

“Oh, so now you care about Adam’s situation?” I ask tilting my head. Dean sighs gripping the steering wheel. I find enjoyment in the way he squirms uncomfortably. “Yes, we were together before he died. Yes, we’re together now,”

“Even with Michael?” Dean asks and I smirk a bit.

“Especially, with Michael,” I tell him. Dean sits in silence, his mind reeling. I slowly look away from him and out the window.

“Wait,” Dean whispers before his head snaps to me. “Are you... with them both?”

“Well, aren’t you a smart one,” I smirk looking at him again. “Did you come to that conclusion all on your own?” I patronize. Dean ignores my tone as he tries to get over the shock of the new information.

“How does that even work?” Dean asks in utter confusion.

“Well, we a girl and a guy love each other they-”

“I get that, smartass,” Dean grumbles causing me to laugh.

“It just works, Dean,” I tell him. I glance down at my left hand where my engagement ring rest on my finger. “I love Adam, I always have. Michael is apart of Adam now. At first I just had to accept him because I wanted Adam. But before I knew it, I loved Michael as well. Love isn’t complicated. We just love each other and we just work,” Dean hums wordlessly.

I smile thinking back to when both Adam and Michael proposed. They had continuously switched taking control throughout their little speech. They promised to protect and love me forever and I promised the same. The year without Adam weren’t the brightest. However, when I got him back and fell in love with Michael, the moments we shared shined brighter than any other memory. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, imagine my life with someone else.

“After everything Adam and Michael have been through, they deserve uncomplicated and unconditional love.” I tell him. Dean glances at me and then down at the ring.

“Yeah,” He mutters looking back at the road. “Does Adam ever... say anything about Sam and I?”

“He’s mentioned you two a few times,” I say. Dean glances to me again. “Dean, when this is over. Promise me that you and Sam will leave us alone,” I say shifting to face him a bit more. “I understand that in your line of work, you and Sam have to make hard decisions. I understand your side but that doesn’t change the fact that both Adam and Michael were left in the Cage for years.” Dean holds my gaze for a moment before looking back to the road. “They’ve been through enough. When you get what you need, let them go. Please,”

“Wow, nice setup,” I compliment as Dean leads me into the bunker. He grumbles a response while leading me to where Michael and Adam are.

“Dean,” A rough voice calls out. The both of us look. Castiel then looks towards me and Dean follows his gaze.

“Maybe Y/n can convince him,” Dean suggests before looking back at the angel. Castiel looks conflicted but nods. Dean motions for me to follow him.

“Michael,” I whisper the instant I see him. His head instantly snaps towards me.

“Y/n,” He whispers standing up. His eyes then go to Dean and they narrow. I ignore the look on Michael’s face and quickly walk up to him. Right before I can hug him he lifts his arms up giving me clear access to his abdomen seeing that his wrists are handcuffed together. I hug him tightly and he circles his arms around me trapping me in his embrace.

“I was worried about you,” I whisper to him. “I didn’t think you would be gone for so long,”

“Neither did I,” Michael whispers back leaning his head against mine. The longer my arms are around him the more he seems to relax. “Did they hurt you?” He asks eyeing Dean who stands by the door.

“No,” I mutter hugging him tighter. I burry my head into his neck and gently kiss his skin. “They brought me to talk to you,” Michael tightens his arms as best as he can. I can instantly sense something is off. “What’s wrong, baby?” I ask pulling my head back enough to look into his eyes. I slowly massage his lower back as he presses his head against mine. He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “It’s ok,” I whisper kissing his cheek. “I’m here... I’ve got you,” i whisper.

“God lied to me,” Michael whispers to me. My hands graze along his side and come to his chest. “I gave everything for him. I loved him,” Michael opens his eyes and my heart clenches at the heartbroken look. “Why?” He asks hugging me closer. “I’m not even the only Michael,”

“You’re the only Michael I care about,” I tell him. “The only one I love,” Michael looks into my eyes before moving his head to the crook of my neck. “I don’t know why God does the things he does. He doesn’t deserve you. I can’t change what he’s done and I won’t be able to change whatever he will do but I can tell you this, Michael. I will love you to the end of my days and even then I will continue to love you in death, for all eternity.”

My hands slighter up and around his neck. My fingers thread through his hair comfortingly. My other hand gently rubs between his shoulder blades.

“I love you so much, Michael,” I whisper to him.

“What do I do?” He asks lifting his head. I look into his eyes while massaging the back of his neck. “Tell me what to do,” I force a smile.

I never hated God before but in this moment I loathed everything about him. I hated how he could knock my strong and powerful archangel down to this lost and broken boy in front of me. I hated how Michael gave his entire life trying to please God only for him to kick Michael to the side like he didn’t matter.

“I wish I could,” I whisper. “But I can’t. What you do next is entirely up to you. If you want to fight God, I’ll support you in anyway I can. If you want to run, I’ll run with you. Whatever you do, Michael, you are not alone. You will always have Adam and you will always have me,” I promise.

“I don’t know how I can truly hate him when I have you, his most beautiful creation, in my arms,” Michael whispers kissing my forehead lightly. I smile resting my head on his shoulder. “I love you, Y/n. All I want is for you to be safe and happy,”

“I’m both of those things when I’m with you,” I whisper nuzzling my head against him.

“You’re all I truly need,” He tells me.

“And I’m right here,” I smile looking into his eyes. “Not even God himself can take me away,” He smiles kissing my cheek lightly. Reluctantly, I duck under his tethered hands but I remain close to him. He turns his attention to Dean and Castiel.

“Yes, I will help you,” Michael decides. “What was done in the darkness can be done to God, if he’s as weak as you say. And I know how,” Reaching into his pocket he pulls out a folded piece of paper. “That’s the spell,” Castiel grabs it.

“And the ingredients?”

“Myrrh, cassia, rockrose,” Michael lists.

“We’ve got that,” Dean mentions.

“And, to bind the spell together, the nectar from the Leviathan blossom,”

“A Leviathan blossom? What is that, like a flower?” Dean questions.

“A flower that only grows in one place. Purgatory.” Raising his hands, Michael snaps his fingers creating a yellow portal. “That’s the door. It’ll remain open for 12 hours. Now, it you’ll please,” He raises his hands. Dean pulls out the key and steps forward.

“You coming with us?” Dean asks taking the cuffs off. Michael’s hand instantly finds mine.

“No,” He says intertwining our fingers. In a blink of an eye, Michael grabs a fist full of his shirt causing Castiel to tense. “If you so much as approach Y/n again, I’ll smite you,” Michael promises. Dean raises his hands in surrender.

“Michael,” I whisper kissing his shoulder. The archangel releases Dean. “Let’s go home,” He looks to me before nodding. He pulls me towards the door but Dean speaks up.

“Before you go, can I talk to him?” Dean asks. Michael pauses for a moment before looking into my eyes. I watch as Michael withdraws and Adam comes through. I smile and gently caress the side of his face.

“Hi, baby,” I whispers gently rubbing his cheekbone with my thumb. Adam leans into my touch before turning his head and kissing the inside of my palm. His gives our connected hands a gentle squeeze before turning to his half brother.

“Yeah?”

“Adam, I want you to know that we are sorry,” Dean says sincerely. I hug Adam’s arm in an attempt to comfort him knowing that this confrontation isn’t easy. “What happened to you... You’re a good man. You didn’t deserve that,” Adam looks at Dean for a moment before smiling sadly, tears brimming his eyes.

“Since when do we get what we deserve?” He asks. Dean presses his lips together. Adam clings to my hand as he tries to hold himself together. “Good luck,” He tells them before pulling me out of the bunker.

“You doing ok, baby?” I ask when we finally make it back to the apartment. Adam closes the door and hugs me tightly. “I love you,” I whisper. “Both of you,”

“We love you too, baby,” Adam whisper holding me even tighter.

263 notes · View notes

teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 4 years

Text

sleeping on the blacktop

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: angst, descriptions of a car accident, blood, gore, mentions of death, vomiting, medical terminology (that i know absolutely nothing about !! i am not a doctor or an emt—almost all of my knowledge is from an anatomy class or tv so—don’t come for me pls), my ramblings about fate and free will, i also gave the baby a name (sorry if you don’t like it :( i just hate having y/d/n, ya know? too much work)

word count: 8.5k

synopsis: while harry is away on tour, his wife and baby get into a car accident

author’s note: please, be mindful of the warnings and don't read if you're uncomfortable with anything mentioned and sorry for the sort of rushed ending... other than that, i hope you enjoy! xx all the love

masterlist

—

“You don’t need to do that,” Anne says from behind her, and Y/N flinches, nearly dropping a plate. She got lost in her thoughts, staring out the window in Anne’s kitchen.

“You cooked. It’s the least I can do,” she says. Anne grabs a rag and dries some of the dishes. Gemma is keeping Rhiannon occupied in the next room, and from the peals of laughter, it’s the happiest she’s been in days. Y/N sighs, wiping her pruned hands on a paper towel. If she’s being honest, she’s not doing too well; Rhia has had a hard time adjusting to not having Harry around all the time, causing a varied sleep schedule and more bouts of fussiness in general, and Y/N struggles keeping up.

“How’re you doing?”

Y/N hesitates. She contemplates lying. She doesn’t need one more person worrying for her, and she doesn’t want people to think that she can’t take care of her own child by herself. Harry already worries enough, even though she’s assured him many times that he doesn’t need to be.

She knows that he feels guilty for not being there all the time, but she would never force him to stop touring and doing what he loves, partly because she’s afraid he’ll resent her. Despite him being across an entire ocean, she never feels like he is far; he’s always willing to stop anything when she calls, and he tries his hardest to talk with her twice a day. She always keeps him as involved as possible, sending daily updates and photos.

“It’s tough,” she admits, “but it’s getting better, no need to worry about me.” She offers Anne a weak smile.

“Can’t help it,” she says, pinching her cheeks lightly.

Noticing the dimming sky, the sun sinking below the line of trees in the yard, Y/N sighs.

“We should probably go,” she mutters, slipping into the next room. Despite how tired she is, she can’t help the smile that takes over her face when Rhiannon looks up at her, showing her gums.

“Time to go, bug,” she says, light and lilting. Rhia kicks her legs, making her almost lose her balance. She’s too confident for her own good, like her father; she’s only just started sitting up on her own and thinks she can wiggle around without falling.

“You sure you’re okay to drive, love?” Anne asks from behind her. Y/N rolls her eyes, yet smiles fondly at her protectiveness.

“We’ll be fine. It’s only a few minutes away.”

Ever since Harry left for tour, Y/N has been staying in their lake cottage to be closer to Anne. It’s only a quick 20 minute drive away, which has been helpful during the days when Y/N needed to catch up on sleep, and Anne is always happy to help. She didn’t like to do that very often, feeling like she was taking advantage of her mother-in-law.

The cottage was a cute little thing, perfect for just the two of them, and Y/N was glad to get out of their shared home; it was too big and empty for just her and Rhia. Harry was always able to liven up any place they were at, but now that he’s gone, it felt hollow and dismal.

“You know you’re welcome to stay here. I’ve got plenty of room,” Anne tries to convince her one last time. As much as Y/N appreciated her worrying, she didn’t want to impose, and she’s sure that Anne wouldn’t want to listen to a fussy baby, even though she would deny it to the end of her days.

Y/N puts Rhia in her coat with little resistance, which is surprising, but she only had a short little nap that afternoon, and they had a busy day.

“I know, Anne, but I don’t want to intrude,” Y/N says. “Besides, Rhia sleeps better in our bed, and you need all the sleep you can get, don’t ya?” She tickles her daughter’s little bloated belly, making her giggle sweetly. Once she’s strapped in, the baby stretches and tries to put Y/N’s fingers in her mouth.

“You know I worry about you,” Anne sighs, kneeling next to Y/N.

“No need to worry,” Y/N smiles. Anne tucks the woven green blanket under Rhiannon’s legs. It’s the same blanket Harry had when he was a baby, barely held together with a few threads and love. Y/N stands, hoisting the carrier up to her hip.

“Call me when you get home, yeah?”

“Course,” she says, pressing a kiss to Anne’s cheek.

When they’re settled in the car, Anne stays out on the porch, watching them until they’re safely on the road, offering a wide smile and an air kiss. Y/N is so thankful to have her shoulder to lean on.

It’s a clear night, which Y/N is thankful for, no fog or rain, which isn’t an often occurrence. She stops at a sign, brakes squealing slightly. She stays there for a second, feeling the familiar burn of exhaustion behind her eyes. She rests her forehead against the steering wheel.

“Da, da,” Rhiannon mumbles. Y/N reaches behind her, barely able to reach her on the opposite side of the back seat, and she grabs onto her fingers.

“I know, peach,” Y/N sighs, “Miss daddy, too.”

She never considered how fragile life could be until she met Harry, not in the sense that death is an imminent and constant force, more in the sense that everything, her goals, her view on life, and her priorities, shifted when she met him. He became her influence, and she was willing to go through hell or high water just to be with him.

In summation, it takes all but five seconds for your life to completely change, for better or for worse.

There are dozens upon dozens of tiny events that build up and push you toward that one big moment that will change your life. Nothing is set in stone; different choices lead you down different paths, and your paths are constantly changing, either for better or worse, and slowly but surely, you’ll finally reach the top of that mountain. Every choice you questioned, every sacrifice you made, will come together in due time, just know that you’re working toward a greater purpose.

Y/N has never been a big believer in fate, that everything is beyond your control and that everything is already set in stone, but perhaps there is some truth to it. Fate could have pushed her to leave home when she was young. Fate could have put her on a safe and stable path when she went to university that landed her a good job when she was fresh out of her internship, and fate could have brought Harry into her life.

But she will never claim fate as a sole guide to her life. Fate is not responsible for her success nor her mistakes; that was all because of her hard work and integrity, her youth and ignorance. To her, fate is simply an excuse. People want to put blame on something, and when things seem out of their control or when they make bad decisions, they don’t feel quite as guilty. They’re willing to take credit for good things that happen but won’t when it affects them negatively.

Say, perhaps, that fate brought Y/N to that intersection, then maybe it was fate that planted the trees that obscured her vision; perhaps, it was fate that made the lights in the post go out that evening.

If so, fate has a twisted sense of humor.

If not, why wouldn’t fate give her any time to react before the impact?

How could fate be so cruel?

—

Working as an EMT, there are always certain risks you accept when you are on the clock; not only are you surrounded by an unbelievable pressure, there is always the ominous cloud looming overhead, a thin thread between life and death threatening to break at any moment, and it’s your job to keep them stable until they arrive at the hospital.

Not too hard, right?

Being able to save people from the brink of death and reuniting families makes almost everything worth it, but there are always scenes that stick with you for the rest of your life, and for Leslie Greene, this is one of them.

What stands out the most is the sound of a crying baby.

She’s seen some very horrific accidents: cars that have been reduced to nothing more than a ball of cheap scrap metal, with blood coating the shattered glass, to DOA’s, where the impact made them look unrecognizable. She has seen a lot of unspeakable things and had a lot of good people die on her watch.

But never has she ever had a baby present at any accident scene. That’s new.

Those cries will probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

“I didn’ see ‘em,” the man slurs from the police car. He has a bloodied lip and a slight bruise forming around his neck from the seat belt. The stench of rum rolls off him with every breath. He sits back, eyes dull and hooded, like he doesn’t even realize what he’s done.

Another EMT meets with her half-way to the other vehicle, lodged against the ditch across the way.

“Driver side sustained some serious damage. The baby has no discernible injuries, but another ambulance is a minute out to take her.”

From the driver’s side, Leslie can see the baby on the opposite side of the backseat, the car seat still tightly in place. The baby flails about, legs and arms kicking with strength. The car is twisted and mangled, but most of the damage is on the driver’s side, the door latched closed. Shattered glass cracks beneath her boot.

When they’re finally able to get the car door open, the woman, barely even mobile, opens her eyes slightly, but she flinches back at the bright lights. Blood drips down from her hairline, bruises already forming on her eyes from the impact on the steering wheel. Blood pools on the leather seat as she shifts with discomfort.

James, a newbie who has never been to a scene with this much damage, breathes out shakily. Leslie turns to see his lips curling, close to dry heaving.

“Go get the baby, yeah?”

He nods quickly, pale in the face, and scurries to the other side. The baby is soothed only momentarily before her wails continue. The woman’s eyes snap open fully this time, panic clear on her features. She tugs fruitlessly on the seat belt, a pained groan leaving her when she moves too quickly.

“Please, don’t move. My name is Leslie. I’m here to help.” She presses a hand to her chest, feeling the woman’s racing heart. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she grits out, her eyes fluttering dangerously. From how she reacted to the lights, she probably has a concussion. Leslie cuts the seat belt, and glass falls onto the blacktop, clinking musically until they settle, like they’re sleeping. Through the gloves, she can feel how warm she is, sweat beading down from her forehead. Glass has settled in the divots of her wool sweater, but not before cutting her skin, caking the pearl necklace peeking from the neckline in blood.

“Y/N, I need you to turn a bit. I need to see where the bleeding is coming from,” Leslie says softly, inching her slowly onto her side. She sighs as more blood pools, gushing down her back and soaking her jumper further. It’s from a rib that broke through the skin. She can only hope that they didn’t puncture an organ.

“Does that hurt?” She asks as she puts pressure on the skin.

“No,” Y/N whimpers, eyes fluttering closed. When they get her on the stretcher, with minimal blood loss, she stirs with life again, her trembling hand reaching onto the sleeve of Leslie’s shirt, painting it red.

“Rhiannon—my baby girl—is she…” She swallows back tears.

“She’s fine.” Leslie knows that it’s unwise to lie to a patient; perhaps, she’s not entirely lying, but it’s never a good idea to give a victim a sure diagnosis without actually knowing anything. There may have been no physical signs of trauma to the baby, but internal problems are a very real possibility that they won’t know of until they get to the hospital.

She knows that she shouldn’t lie. It takes seven minutes to get to the nearest hospital, but it’s time that Y/N may not have; despite how quickly they were able to get her into the ambulance, she’s losing a lot of blood.

“Thank you,” Y/N sighs in relief, clutching onto her hand. Her wedding ring nearly cuts through the gloves from the pressure.

“Of course,” Leslie says, easily putting her on an IV.

“My husband,” she gasps suddenly, her arm jerking about. “Harry—he—he’s gonna be worried. ‘M supposed to call. He has to tell her goodnight—“

“Y/N, relax,” Leslie coos. “We will contact your husband. You need to focus on yourself, yeah? Don’t close your eyes, Y/N.”

Leslie can see the fear in her eyes; it’s something she’s grown very familiar with, but it’s not just fear for her own survival. She can see how scared she is for her family. She struggles to keep her eyes open, resilience and weakness fighting for power. Like any mother, she’s fighting for her family. She’s fighting to be able to hold onto and kiss them one more time.

She is trying so hard to fight for her family.

But at the same time, it’s so easy to give in.

“If I don’t make it,” she slurs, breathing quickly out of her nose. The blood from her nose slips down into her mouth, making her cough.

“Don’t say—”

“If I don’t, I need you to tell Harry that I love him, and that…” She lets out a pained whimper, struggling to catch her breath. “I’m sorry.”

“This wasn’t your fault, love.”

Her lip quivers, teeth chattering.

“I’m just sorry for everything.”

Leslie knows exactly what that means. She’s making amends, apologizing for not being able to fight. A lone tear slips from her eye, but Leslie wipes it away.

“I will.” She promises, gripping her hand tighter.

Only two more minutes.

Y/N gives her a thankful nod, and as if she has finally made peace with the world, she falls limp, the light leaving her eyes.

—

Harry has always enjoyed New York, and it’s not very often that he is able to stay for longer than one night. There is just something about it that’s completely different from London or L.A. that he likes about it; He couldn’t imagine actually living there, with the massive crowds and fluctuating weather, but it’s a nice place to visit, very different from what he’s used to.

He’s halfway through the tour for his most recent album, and New York is the last stop before he gets a short break to go home. He has a show tonight at Madison Square, a radio interview in the morning, and then, he’s home free. He’s been looking forward to this break before the tour even began. Don’t get him wrong, he loves performing and meeting fans and traveling the world, but now that he has a family, it gets more and more difficult not being there for the people who need him most.

“So, I heard,” the interviewer begins, smiling widely.

Sadly, Harry has already forgotten his name. The interview was supposed to be a short little thing for social media, only supposed to take 20 minutes, so he could prepare for the concert that evening, but it’s been nearly an hour, and there are no signs of stopping any time soon. Harry holds off yet another yawn, the lack of sleep from the night before washing over him. He’s having trouble focusing.

“You’ve got a baby girl.”

“Yes,” Harry beams. Even though he wants to keep his baby out of the limelight, he can’t help the excitement that fills his chest whenever she's mentioned. He can easily go on and on about how wonderful and sweet and perfect she is. He tugs on his pearl necklace, biting on his lips to keep quiet. He and Y/N agreed that it would be best for Rhia to grow up as normally as possible, which meant only posting about her on his private social media and avoiding busy places so as to not be seen, but some things were simply unavoidable, like interviewers trying to get him to let something about her slip to get their five-minutes-of-fame. It seems rude of him to completely ignore their questions, so he just sticks to very short, vague answers.

“How are you adjusting to fatherhood?”

“Uh,” he laughs, fiddling with his wedding ring. “It was a struggle to begin with. I will admit that, but it’s getting better. We’re still learning how to adjust to everything.”

He says it like he’s actually there, actively helping Y/N, even though he's on the other side of the world. He hasn’t seen his daughter in nearly two months; video chats have absolutely nothing on the real thing. He isn’t helping Y/N put Rhia to sleep when she’s feeling particularly fussy or feeding her at two in the morning, so Y/N can finally get some well-deserved sleep, and he’s not there to play with her or comfort her.

It feels like he’s lying.

He’s a sad excuse of a father. That’s what he really is.

The thought makes the smile fall from his face, but he’s quick to force another one; if there’s anything that he’s learned after years in the public eye, it’s how to fake emotions. The interviewer gives him an understanding smile. He’s older, but not too old, only having a few years on Harry, age wise, but the wrinkles beside his eyes and the nicked ring on his finger suggest years of familial experience.

“I completely understand. I have three boys of my own, and—”

“I am so sorry,” Jeff, Harry’s savior, says suddenly from behind the camera. “D’ya mind if I borrow Harry for a second?”

The interviewer nods.

“No problem. Take 15?”

Harry feels a twinge of guilt as he stands quickly from the chair, happy to finally have a break.

“Thanks,” Harry sighs, brushing past Jeff to the refreshment table. “‘M exhausted. Maybe it’s ‘cause of Rhi, but every little thing wakes me up. Swore I heard her cryin’ last night.” Jeff is quiet, fiddling with his hands nervously. Harry doesn’t notice how quiet the man has gotten, and he opens a bottle of water, rifling through his bag.

“Isn’t it almost 3? Y/N should be callin’ soon.”

“Harry,” Jeff says again, stronger this time. Harry still doesn’t notice how his voice breaks slightly, wobbly and hesitant.

“Yeah?” Harry drinks nearly half of the water, not sparing a glance up. He fishes for his phone, only to remember that he left it in the car. He sighs and turns. That’s when he finally notices how shaken up Jeff is, pale and nervous.

“What’s up? Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he laughs, downing the rest of his water before tossing it in the bin.

“Harry,” Jeff says again, soft and somber, and it makes Harry stop. Dread settles in his stomach, deep and heavy. Jeff has never been one to be the bearer of bad news, and he tended to beat around the bush. “Why don’t you sit down?” Jeff tries to guide Harry over to the cheap stool in the corner of the room, but he rips his arm from his grasp.

Harry has never been one to let his mind run wild; he’s the calm one, who looks at reason and logic. He's the one to tell everyone that everything’s going to be fine; he’s the one who takes everything in stride, like water rolling down his back. Bumps in the road are nothing. He’s the one that comes up with solutions and executes them with ease, but with the way Jeff is treating him, his heart races.

“What?”

“There’s been an accident,” Jeff says slowly, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

It takes a second for Harry to process his words, but when he does, he stumbles back.

His mind automatically tries to reason with itself, that maybe it has nothing to do with him. Perhaps, something went wrong at the venue, and they would have to postpone, lengthening his stay for only a couple more days. Maybe, Mitch got food poisoning and will be unable to play that evening. There are dozens of reasonable explanations as to why Jeff pulled him aside, but Harry knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t have such a mournful look in his eyes, if it isn’t anything less than very serious.

Okay, fine, there was an accident. That could mean so many different things. An accident doesn’t even necessarily mean that they are in grave danger; they could be walking away unscathed.

“W-what? I-i-is it Gem? Mum?” Endless scenarios flicker in his mind, each one worse than the last. The one thing that he doesn’t even consider is it being Y/N or Rhiannon. His mind refuses to go down that road; if it did, there’s no way of knowing how he would react. He doesn’t even consider the possibility of them being in trouble. He hates how long Jeff is taking to tell him, as if holding off will soften the blow. Irritation starts bubbling below the surface, and he finds it hard to keep calm.

“Harry,” he says, shaking his head. “Anne called me. There was a drunk driver, and they’re headed to the hospital now—”

“They?”

His heart stops for a second, and it feels like his chest collapses in on itself. His body feels like it’s reacting to a stressful situation, with adrenaline and fear and anger, but Harry isn’t thinking with a grieving mind; it’s cloudy and slow, delusional, even. He shakes his head.

“No,” Harry mutters, taking a step forward. He can feel tears burn in his eyes, and he makes no move to wipe them. “It wasn’t…” Harry can’t finish the question. It makes him nauseous. Jeff nods solemnly, which, in any other circumstance, would have been answer enough. “Say it,” Harry snaps.

It’s unreal, like a dream. This didn’t happen to him, not his family.

They’re safe. There’s just been a mistake. That’s the only reasonable explanation to everything. Someone made a mistake. Maybe a fan thought it would be funny to pretend to be his mum, and they somehow got Jeff’s number. It had to be a horrible, awful, repulsive joke to get some attention or something; as implausible as that seems, it’s the only thought that makes sense to him because he can’t possibly understand the weight of the truth. He doesn’t know if he can handle it.

His girls are fine.

They have to be.

“Harry—” Jeff tries to calm him down, seeing a bright red flush to his skin, frustration seeping through every pore. Anger isn’t becoming of Harry; Jeff has only seen him angry a couple of times, but never to this extent: red in the face, words shaky, eyes glassy.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“It was Y/N and Rhiannon.”

That is the absolute last thing that he wanted to hear.

Even though, deep down, he knew that they were in trouble. From the first moment Jeff said his name to how sickly he looked when he told him to sit down, Harry knew, deep in his heart and mind, that his family is in trouble. He just wasn’t willing to accept it or even think about it, as if that could change reality. Until Jeff said those five words that confirmed his worst nightmare.

And he feels his world come crashing down, but he’s stuck, frozen, mind not moving nearly as fast as it should be.

“My—my…” He stutters, throat closing. “My girls?” The ache in his chest increases tenfold, and he holds onto his, feeling the racing of his heart and his quick breathing. “You’re fuckin’ with me,” he scoffs, rage building. He shakes his head with denial. “What kind of fuckin’ prick—”

“I wouldn’t joke about—”

Harry knows that. Y/N and Jeff are close. Hell, they even considered making him their daughter’s godfather. Jeff would never joke about something this serious, and Harry knows that, but he isn’t willing to accept the reality because the reality is nearly too much for him to comprehend, to carry on his already weak shoulders.

“No, they’re not,” Harry closes his eyes, hands slipping through his hair like it normally does when he’s anxious. He tugs on it, but the pain is nothing compared to the sick feeling in his stomach or the crack in his pounding heart. He honestly feels like he’s going to be ill or pass out, feeling his mouth dry up, his hands clamming up, and he begins to feel light-headed.

“Y/N’s just about to call me. It’s Rhi’s bedtime.” He rambles, not listening to Jeff.

They can’t be going to a hospital. He talked to Y/N just this morning when he couldn’t fall asleep. He spoke about his worries and doubts and guilt that he felt for being so far away from them, and Y/N soothed all of his fears and reservations, reminding him why he does what he does. Before she left, she told him that she loved him, and he could hear Rhi babbling away in the background, content and happy and safe.

“There’s a plane leaving in a half an hour—”

“And I sing to her. That's the only way she’ll sleep through the night. She hasn’t been sleepin’ very well these past few days,” he says, lost in his thoughts. His words begin to slur.

“Harry, listen to me,” Jeff says, holding onto his shoulders, trying to keep him grounded, from falling apart. Harry doesn’t get anxious often, but when he does, everything comes to a startling halt; he’s not used to it, and he lets it overwhelm him until he can’t function. That’s the last thing anyone needs.

“No, no, they’re fine. They’re fine. They’re—” He swallows, and like a wave, realization dawns on him, drowning him. His family is in the hospital, and he’s not there with them. “Oh, god,” he cries, feeling bile burn his throat. He sinks to his knees, hand pitifully covering his mouth to keep from vomiting. His vision darkens. It feels like the walls are crumbling down, and he’s stuck, frozen and alone, with no one coming to save him.

Just like his girls.

“Harry, you can’t shut down, not now,” Jeff says, kneeling beside him. “They need you.”

He knows that. He needs to be strong for the both of them, so he wipes away his tears, clenches his jaw, and pushes everything down, even if it feels like he’s choking. He has to be strong for the both of them.

The drive to the airport is a blur. He swallows back his tears until his head feels like it’s going to burst and holds his breath until he can see black spots in his vision, but most of all, he’s numb. A small part of him is still trying to convince himself that this is all just a big misunderstanding, but the larger part, the part that’s screaming the loudest, tells him he’s being irrational and selfish.

It takes 7 hours to get home; he has to travel across an entire ocean to get to his family.

How unfair is that?

He wants to blame the world, God, fate. He wants to curse whatever force existed, but behind all of the hate and accusations and judgement, he is nothing more than a guilty, broken shell of a man.

He’s angry with himself, mostly, with the choices he’s made, with how selfish and greedy he was, and how inconsiderate his actions have been for the past few months. He can’t believe that he could be so self-centered, taking Y/N for granted. She’s his wife; they’re supposed to be partners, equals, and he treated her like she was disposable while he traveled the world, living out a dying dream.

He wishes he was there, to not only prevent it, but also to tell her just one last time how important she was to him and tell her of the pain that would spread in his chest at the possibility of losing her or their child; he wants so badly to show his love for her. In four days, they would have been celebrating six years together, and in that time, he has never doubted his love for her. He knew, from the moment they met, that she was meant to be with him until the very end. They were soulmates.

Now that he might lose her and his baby, he feels like his soul is being ripped out of his chest, leaving nothing but a gaping, painful void.

Jeff sends him a link to Twitter and a message: Harry, take all the time you need.

The post says: Due to a personal emergency, Harry will not be able to make the show at MSG this evening, and all tour dates from this moment forth will be canceled until further notice. Know that he wishes he could be with you all, and please, respect his privacy in these trying times.

He calls his mother shortly after, but she doesn’t answer. When he tries Gem, she picks up after a few rings, shaky and winded. He sighs, trying to quell the tremors in his hands. His lips quiver.

“What’s goin’ on?”

Gemma explains what happened to the best of her ability, that Y/N just left to go back to the cottage after eating dinner And that Anne received a call from the hospital, after he didn’t answer his phone (that part stung to hear).

“Please—” He begins, but his voice teeters and breaks at the end. He can’t help the tears that slip down his cheeks. Exhausted and weak, he finally cries. He cries for his wife, his child, and himself. They’re not heart-wrenching sobs, where he’s keeled over, grief and anxiety spilling out of every pore, but they leave him breathless, chest aching.

“Please, tell me everythin’s gonna be fine.”

Her silence is answer enough. She can’t promise him anything. It’s too early to tell, and she’s not going to lie to him, either, not when his wife and child’s life is in the balance.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Gemma admits, “but I will call you as soon—”

He hangs up before she can finish.

—

Rain thunders onto the broken concrete, a flash of lightning brightening the dull sky. Despite the rain, the earth nearly brimming with life, the hospital is dead. There’s not a soul going in or out. The lights flicker eerily in the corner of his eye. It’s four in the morning, so it’s not much of a surprise, but the sight of it being so lifeless just feels wrong.

His mind is moving quicker than the world can keep up with, it seems, and he feels like it goes against the laws of nature. It’s a strange feeling when you feel like you’re falling apart, but the world continues on; most people on the street wouldn’t bat an eye or even pay any notice to him as he’s deteriorating before their very eyes.

As irrational as it is, it feels wrong. It feels wrong that everyone else is able to go on while his life is crumbling.

He called Gemma when he landed, and there were still no updates on their condition. He broke dozens of traffic laws to get there, and now, he stands outside the entrance, still wearing his wool jumper from the day before, smelling like an airport, with rain soaking his hair. Droplets slip down his cheek and jaw, livening the dried tears from earlier, and they seep into his mouth; he can taste the salt.

He’s just staring at the flickering sign.

He can’t move.

Well, that’s not really it; he can move, he can feel, and he can see, but he doesn’t want to move.

How fucked up is that?

He doesn’t want to go inside. Despite all of his fears, and his longing for answers, and his need to see his family, he can’t move.

Because that would make everything real.

If he goes inside, if he pushes past those doors and sees the doctors, he can’t deny it anymore. When he goes inside, he has to face the very real possibility that he could lose his wife and daughter. He isn’t sure if he’s strong enough to handle it.

He’s being selfish. He knows that. He should be running inside, yelling at doctors and nurses to tell him what they’re doing about his family. He should be trying to do something, anything to see his wife and daughter.

But why is it so hard to move his feet?

And why does he still feel so numb?

He breathes in the cold air, burning his tender throat.

When he finally opens those doors, past the point of no return, he’s welcomed by a blinding light and the scent of antiseptic. The inside is just as lifeless, with dull white walls that leaves his head throbbing and dingy carpet that scrapes against his boots. He follows the signs, leading to the waiting room.

A new round of tears fills his eyes when he sees his mother’s familiar figure. He hasn’t wanted to just completely collapse into her arms, crying, in years, but now, he just wants to be in the comfort of her presence, to forget the world.

But he can’t, just like Jeff told him, he needs to stay strong, for them. He can’t shut down. He breathes out deeply, raises his head, and calls out for his mother.

Anne turns around, and when he sees Rhiannon pressed tightly to her chest, safe and sound, he feels more of his strength return, like he can breathe a little easier. He feels his knees weaken, but he keeps moving. He doesn’t feel quite so empty and broken and numb, a small ray of hope filling him for the first time in hours. He cups the back of her little head, thumb caressing the soft baby hairs. They’ve gotten thicker since the last time he saw her.

“She’s fine, Harry, just a little shaken up,” Anne says, smiling slightly.

His happiness is short lived when Gemma stands from behind Anne.

“Y/N’s in surgery right now. All we can do is wait,” she says, her eyes ringed with red, mirroring his own.

“Da,” Rhia says, and he smiles, a single tear running down his cheek. He wipes it and sniffles.

Y/N pretended to be upset when that was Rhi’s first word. She said it only hours before he had to leave. They were in their home, and Y/N was helping him lug his suitcases out of the bedroom when he heard it. It sounded like another babble, but it became clearer until—

“Da,” she squealed, bouncing in her little jumper chair. “Dada.” She hit a little plastic toy ring on the tray

“Y/N,” he called out for her and knelt down in front of his baby. She rushed out of the bedroom.

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Say it again, peach, show mummy,” he cooed, and Rhi repeated it, again and again, reaching for her father.

“I carry her around for nine months and feed her out of my tit,” Y/N whined, “and this is the thanks I get?”

They laughed, nevertheless. It was a bittersweet moment, as he looks back on it now. He was so happy that Rhiannon was growing and learning, but she was growing up too fast for his liking. He lifted Rhi up out of the chair and pressed a gentle kiss to her chubby cheek, tears stinging behind his eyes.

“She’s just daddy’s little girl. Aren’t ya, peach?”

She left a slobbery kiss, well, her version of a kiss (which was more tongue than lip) on his nose. He scrunched up his face, and her features pinched together in return, mimicking him.

“See, jus’ a little mini-me you are,” he said, tickling under her chin.

And when she called out to him after saying their final farewells in the airport, it made it even more difficult for him to leave.

Maybe it was a sign that he shouldn’t leave.

He should have listened.

He’s knocked back into the present when his baby girl looks up at him, eyes lit up with innocence, completely unaware of the dire situation they’re in. They’re not in their London home, and Y/N’s not there with him. His lips wobble, nose burning. His chest hurts, whether from unshed tears or from the thought of actually losing the love of his life, he doesn’t know.

He cups his baby girl’s cheek.

Rhia has Y/N’s eyes. He loves her eyes. When she first opened them, as he held her for the first time, bundled tightly in his arms, he cried big, fat tears until they were all dried up. He felt nothing but love for this little human because she was a perfect mixture of him and Y/N. He loves Rhiannon’s eyes, but now, they serve as nothing but a deathly reminder of his wife, who could possibly not survive these next few hours.

She gives him a gummy smile, her little tongue slipping out over her lips. There’s some white peeking through her gums, and his heart aches. He wipes some drool from her chin, and she reaches for him, but he backs away.

His stomach sinks, and he wants the ground to swallow him whole. His mother looks at him softly, not a shred of disappointment apparent on her face, as if she knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his own daughter. His throat closes.

How could he be so weak?

Rhia’s smile drips down, but she lays her head back on her Nana’s shoulder. Anne cups the girl’s head, wrapping the thinly woven blanket tighter around her; sadness and pity present in the air.

“‘M gonna check in with the nurse, see how Y/N’s doin’,” he whispers, backing away, and he stumbles down the hallway, following the signs until he sees the nearest nurse, clad in pale blue scrubs. Even though he’s sure the nurse expects him to look nothing less than distraught, he smooths down his clothes and clears his throat, trying to quell the cries building, lips quivering pitifully.

“Do you have any information on Y/N Styles?” His voice is watery and broken.

The nurse looks at him with sad eyes, warm and understanding, like his mother’s. How does everyone else know what he’s feeling besides himself?

“No, I’m sorry, sir,” she says, and he simply nods. He doesn’t have the energy to be upset or press her anymore. The heaviness on his chest building, he doesn’t even try to stop it anymore. He just wants to wallow, curl up and cry until he’s finally able to wake up from this nightmare. He hates the feeling like he’s just given up, accepted that Y/N may not come back from this.

He wants to fight, but all of the fight he has left him as soon as Jeff told him the news.

“Thank you,” he whispers, heading back to the waiting room. He sits down silently on the chairs next to Gemma, the worn wood squealing from the sudden weight. Anne paces in front of them, rocking Rhia back and forth, like she has been for the past few hours; call it a nervous tick or a mother’s instinct, but holding Rhiannon calms her.

Gemma glances at him in the corner of her eye, unsure of how to comfort him in such a situation. He can see her

“I can’t hold her, Gem,” he says weakly, and she looks at him, finding his gaze held on the small little bundle in their mother’s arms. She sighs. “What if—” There’s a bitter taste on his tongue. He covers his mouth with trembling hands, trying to push back the cries swelling in his chest.

“What if Y/N dies?”

It’s one thing to think about it, but saying it aloud breaks his heart in two.

Y/N has been a constant in his life for six years, and in that time, she became his rock, his shoulder to cry on, his stability, who held his heart so close to her. Then, he thinks about his baby girl, who has had her mother for barely seven months, just to have her ripped away so easily because of some drunk who didn’t know when to quit, and he thinks he’s going to be sick again.

It takes only one mistake to set off a series of irreversible events.

Exhausted, he doesn’t fight the sob that comes out, his shoulders shaking as more and more. He heaves for breath, curling into himself. Gemma wraps an arm around him, and he cries into her shoulder. He feels useless, sinking further into the endless pit in his mind. He’s never considered the possibility of Y/N never being there with him, holding his hand through the fire, and now that possibility is very real; he can’t face it.

When he’s run himself dry, he finally looks at her with red-rimmed eyes and swollen cheeks.

“If she dies, I dunno if I could even look at her,” he admits. “To see her eyes...” Gemma just listens. She knows that there’s nothing she could ever say to make the situation any better. She holds her brother’s hands tightly. “I should have been here,” he says, nodding softly.

“Harry, there’s nothing you could have done. It’s that prick’s fault, not yours,” she says angrily. She’s trying to keep calm, for everyone’s sake, but it’s difficult when it feels like her family is being torn apart.

“I would’ve been driving,” Harry insists. “I would be the one in there, not her, and they would’ve been safe.”

“You don’t know that,” Gemma argues softly. She’s never seen him like this before, but that’s to be expected in the situation they’re in. He’s normally such an optimistic person, and to hear him degrade himself is almost too much to handle.

“If she does make it—”

“When she makes it,” Gem snaps.

“She’s gonna hate me. I know it.”

“She has never blamed you for anything, not when fans gave her shit, not when paps would follow her, and especially not when you had to leave. There are some things that are simply out of our control, and she understands. She understands that you can’t be there all the time. She understands that this is your job, and your job has made you who you are today. She won’t blame you for this either, so don’t blame yourself.”

“You don’t understand,” he sighs. It’s true. She does not understand what he’s gone through. She doesn’t know what it feels like, but she knows that the damage is already done. There’s no use in looking back and analyzing everything to see what they could have done differently.

“I should’ve been here.”

“If only things were that simple.”

“Harry?” A shallow, unfamiliar voice speaks from behind him, making everyone raise their heads.

Anxiety spikes in his stomach. He wonders how anyone could have recognized him, since there is absolutely no one else in the hospital, and how insensitive they would have to be to come talk to him while he’s in such a state. Anger bubbles within him, his skin turning hot as he turns to face the woman.

The blood on her uniform makes him pause.

“My name is Leslie. I was one of the first people on the scene.”

“Do you know anything?” She shakes her head sadly.

“But I was with your wife in the ambulance. She wanted me to tell you that she loves you and…” She coughs, hesitation clear on her features. “And not to give up.”

She probably doesn’t realize how much he needed to hear those words because when he stands and tugs her into a hug, she tenses, hesitantly wrapping her arms around him. Again, like when he saw his baby girl, hope warms him, blanketing and strengthening him.

It’s like Y/N is speaking to him through her.

“Thank you,” he whispers, offering her a weak smile. Just as they part, an older woman rounds the corner. Everyone sits up a little straighter, the air becoming a little tenser, when she gets closer to them.

“She’s resting, now, but she should be up in a few hours,” the doctor smiles.

Harry wants to crumple to the ground as a weight lifts from his chest, and he can finally breathe. He’s run ragged, a broken cry slipping out of his blubbering lips. He tugs Gemma into his arms, who returns the embrace wholeheartedly. Such relief and warmth fills him that he can barely hear the doctor as she continues.

“There was some pretty severe internal bleeding, but we got her stabilized. She also had a couple broken ribs, nothing that time and care won’t heal. After we do some more tests, she should be released in about a week. I can show you to her room, if you’d like?”

“Yes,” Harry cries.

When they reach Y/N’s room, Harry pauses outside and turns to his mother. Her eyes, noticing the confliction in his eyes, are soft and understanding. He never thought about seeing her in such a state until now, but least she’s still with him, his little fighter, just like Rhi.

“Mum, can I, uh…” He nibbles on his lip, holding his arms out.

“Course,” Anne says, moving the baby in his open arms.

“Hi, peach,” he says, smiling. She sleeps contentedly, her features relaxed. His heart twinges as she burrows herself into his chest, and he wraps the blanket a little tighter around her.

“We’ll go to the cottage and get some extra clothes for you all,” Gemma says, knowing that Harry needs this time alone. She tugs her mother, who hesitates but soon follows.

He expected her condition to be poor, but that doesn’t stop the burning in his eyes when he sees her, hooked up to what seems like dozens of machines, her face swollen, and stitches along her hairline; she looks so fragile, so broken, but her heart beat is strong, breathing steady. As if sensing her father’s discomfort, Rhi burrows further in his arms, snuffling lightly.

He settles in a chair next to Y/N’s bed, one hand holding hers while the other arm cradles his baby.

“Gave daddy a scare earlier, peach,” he coos. “Daddy’s sorry that he wasn’t there with ya.”

He promises her many things, that she’s safe, that nothing will ever happen to her, and that her mum is safe, too, but most importantly, he promises to be there for her. He cries silently, careful to keep the tears and painful jolts of his chest from waking Rhi. He just can’t help it. After the dust settles and the smoke is cleared, the gravity of the situation weighs on him: he could have lost the two most important people in his life, and he would not have been there.

A nurse stops by to bring a bassinet for Rhiannon and to check on Y/N, who is doing wonderfully, especially after such an invasive surgery.

Y/N wakes after about an hour, just as the sun peaks beyond the horizon. Harry is still up, of course, watching his girls, finding comfort in the heart monitor. He pushes the bassinet back and forth with his foot.

“H?”

He beams when he hears her voice, gravely and worn, but it’s her voice nonetheless, comforting and warm. He wishes that he could hold her and kiss her until his love heals her wounds, but he has to settle for holding her hand and kissing her forehead for the time being.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs, tears slipping past her swollen eyes. “It happened so fast.”

“What are you sorry for, lovie? You did absolutely nothin’ wrong,” he says, brushing back her hair.

“You had to leave because I wasn’t being careful enough, and I—”

His heart aches, eyes glazing over. He hates that he made her feel like his job was more important than her.

“No, none of that,” he says, shaking his head. “That doesn’t matter. Listen, this was not your fault, and as far as tour goes, it’s not nearly as important as you two. I would drop everythin’ if you needed me to. There is nothin’ that I wouldn’t do for you. You know that, right? You both are my life, now; I made that promise the day we got married and the day she was born. You both are my number one priority, and I haven’t been treating you like it. For that, I’m so sorry.”

“Harry—”

“It was selfish of me to think that I could live in the past and the present, live the life that I used to while trying to be a father and a husband. It wasn’t fair of me, and I am so, so very sorry, babylove.”

He kisses her, careful of her bruises, and she sinks further into the bed, comforted by his warm words and tender touches. Her eyes, fluttering with exhaustion and filled with tears, refuse to close, as if she’s afraid that he’ll be gone by the time she wakes. He runs his thumb along her cheek, mindful of the swollen areas. For the first time in what feels like years, his mind is calm, basking in the feeling of happiness as he’s finally able to feel and see his family, safe and within his reach. That’s all he’s ever wanted, and as he sees her nodding off, he presses a quick kiss to her knuckles, whispering.

“Rest, lovie, I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”

She falls asleep with a faint smile.

Perhaps, fate isn’t cruel as many think. Just like anything, it can be merciful and loving for those who are worth mercy and love.

—

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #ellie writes #ellie writes angst #not my gif #credit to owner

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