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lotr-fanatic-1 · 1 year

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A Tale of Sacrifice

Prologue: A Dream

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Warnings: None

Word Count: 904

Synopsis: None

Author’s Note: This is an isekai based fan fiction following two main insert characters, one plays as the more prominent main character (Y/n) and another playing the lesser main role (Bf/n). The main plot will follow Peter Jackson’s rendition so there will be no Tom Bombadil, I apologize ahead of time. Furthermore, as of writing this I have only made it halfway through the Silmarillion so feel free to correct me on anything I get wrong, thanks! Finally, I will be adding more characterization to characters who have little screen time, so tell me if they end up being a bit too OOC. With that out of the way, this story is just for fun and practice, so please enjoy.

Finally, characters, settings and so on so forth are not my own (there will be some OCs later on) and belong to whoever has the rights to Tolkien’s source material. This includes Warner Brothers for Lord of The Rings/The Hobbit, The Tolkien Estate for the Silmarillion, and more for other works not by me.

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There was a distant tune hidden behind a cloak of darkness, something warm and bright fighting against a swarm of ice creeping into her bones. It echoed throughout the void in warning, a somewhat threatening tone behind the beautiful sounds.

Despite that, it never ceased its chants of hopes and dreams.

The choir sang louder and louder, a symphony of voices so heavenly she would have thought she was in paradise. But the cold pushed harder until it overpowered and engulfed her being in a deadly embrace.

No longer was there a song, nor a theme to keep the maiden's mind from wandering into nothingness. And in oblivion she stayed until time became a fleeting feeling.

Then in an instant, swift and welcoming, a light took her by the hand and dragged her from suffocation. Her eyes opened and she gasped, air rushed into her lungs like sweet sugar while sunshine pierced her irises. The helping hand disappeared, forcing the girl to scramble out of the unyielding darkness that begged for her return. But she wouldn't, darkness was not what she desired.

So the woman continued to fight and claw and thrash until the shadows retreated for another battle. Only then could she finally breathe again.

Lifting up her heavy head and staring far into the distance, a blurry scene of gold and silver stretched as far as her eyes could see. A sea of light and beauty untold gave her a new sense of finality. As if there was nowhere more perfect for her to be.

Her chest rose and fell with heaving breaths, adrenaline still high from fending off the darkness. So she rose to her full height and allowed the breeze to whisk her away towards the light of salvation. Truth be told, the woman did not think she was dead, just in a dream unlike any other.

The winds began to speak and ring like chimes on a back porch on a breezy summer's eve. The calming streams grew in volume, their methodical trickle setting a beat for the rustling of the many trees littering her path.

Her bare feet tickled against the crisp grass as she neared the beautiful lights in the distance. It all felt so real. Even when figures began to form against the glow seemed to be real despite their imperceivable forms. Their songs each rang differently, welcoming, warm, ethereal.

Struck with awe, the woman couldn't bring herself to speak when one of the figures turned towards her, staring straight through her being. Their heavenly eyes seemed lined with feathers, and atop their head a wisp of clouds that sunk past their feet like hair. The song that danced around them was delicate and light.

"Welcome (y/n)."

The figure's hair began to rise, it would have been threatening if the smile upon their- no- his face wasn't so gentle. And his voice, a smooth rumble akin to thunder.

"H-how do you know my name? Where... where am I?" Her voice seemed so small compared to these majestic giants, nothing but a quivering and groggy mess.

"I know many things, but not enough to answer all." His figure of light shifted, and the others followed his gaze to the glow far away. "You will find answers in time, the will of Eru is only so clear."

"Eru...." The woman furrowed her brow in contemplation, why was that name so familiar? It's origin on the tip of her tongue and when she looked back up to ask the name, everyone was gone.

The sky was no longer in a golden glow, but a sickly darkness consuming all that was. A hand rose from the contaminated earth covered in the blackest armor she had ever seen. It reached out for her and she could no longer move.

With closed eyes, the maiden awaited death.

But it never came, instead, a muffled voice reverberated through her head. It got louder and louder until she opened her eyes and escaped her corrupted dream. Blinding sunlight pierced her gaze with a vengeance.

"(Y/n)! Wake up!" The voice shook her in panic. "(Y/n), you need to wake up!"

Her eyes finally adjusted to the familiar face in front of her, eyes reflecting sparks of wonder stared into her own. "Wha-?" She began, wondering how her boyfriend was with her at this moment.

"Shh! Look around!" His panicked tone was replaced by excitement and a cheeky grin. "Do you know where we are?!"

The woman stared off into rolling hills of green grass, a little farther beyond rows of farms and endless fields with strong trees. Flowers decorated the little gardens in front of small circular doors on the sides of the hills. It was almost as if she was in the Shire.

She glanced over to the young man crouched beside her in the grass. He awaited her answer with a shifting posture and goofy grin, so with a weary smile she shook her head no.

The man's grin stretched farther across his face and his eyes. "The Shire from Lord of the Rings! Just look around, there's hobbits everywhere! And-and it feels so real, you're here too, it can't be a dream!"

The look in his eyes were of starlight, bright and always looking forwards. (Y/n) smiled despite the situation and the forgotten dream, she couldn't help but fall in love with him all over again.

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thequeenofthewinter · 2 years

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Work-in-Progress Wednesday

It's been a weird, yet beautifully amazing week for writing. After a bout of writer's block, I am just SO pleased with how this chapter is shaping up. ...and this one is going to be a ride. <3 I am SO excited about the next chapter that I can BARELY contain myself. As usual, I will relentlessly tag my friends to poke them for snippets: @nocturnalswarehouse, @oblivions-dawn, and @dumpsterhipster, and you know what, why not @romantichore because she opened up the task manager on my crashing brain which helped make this snippet happen. (Please don't feel obligated to participate, but if you have a little something that perhaps you'd like to share, I would LOVE to see it.) Also, tagging anyone else who sees this and would like to participate. <3

There is only one thing she can do. It is dangerous, but there is nothing else she can think of and the only action bold enough to get Yolnahkrif’s attention now.

No time for hesitation, only time for action.

With her decision made for her, she brings herself to standing, pushing through her screaming, tired muscles and disregarding the spinning in her head.

As she inhales, there is a change in the air, a dropping of pressure and slight stirring of the wind as the elements bow to Dahlia’s beckoning. Thick, grey storm clouds race into the previously clear late-evening skies as they block out the last remnants of sun. There is power in the air, so much that that Ulfric can almost taste it; it is ozone; it is earth; and it is uniquely her in every way. It settles over the clearing heavily, coating his skin and causing the hairs on his arms to rise.

It is completely unlike anything the Jarl has ever seen before and like nothing he knew that anyone could be capable of. Sure, he is more intimately familiar with the workings of the thu’um than others, but this is something entirely different: It is raw and untamed, yet it yields to Dahlia’s demands.

If he were anyone else, he might be afraid of it. And while he has seen her Shout before, that was something else entirely—an experience completely other and unlike this in every way. It overwhelms not only himself, but also draws the attention of every living creature in the clearing—including Yolkahkrif—and they turn their eyes upwards.

STRUN BAH QO

As soon as Dahlia lets the words go, rain begins to pour down on them, rinsing them clean. And finally, there it is again—that all-consuming sensation of power—thunder rumbles ominously through the sky, and he can feel the vibrations of it through his boots. Shortly thereafter, several bolts of lightning pierce through the sky, devastating everything in their path.

She has called lightning and the elements to bend to her wishes. All he can do is stare at her in awe, the flashes of electricity lighting up her eyes, as goosebumps prickle their way steadily from his head to his toes.

Who is this woman? How was it that out of all the people on Nirn that she was brought to him? She is frighteningly beautiful, yet wild, just like the storm she was brought to them, her hair dancing around her violently in untamed waves. Perhaps any other man would think that he has made a grave mistake, but not him.

Never him.

He’ll only hold tighter.

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #wip wednesday #dahlia wintersnow #ulfric stormcloak #ulfric x dragonborn #winter writes

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miss-smutty · 3 years

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A/N- I've been dubious about writing Thor but I just had to do this, it's been running around my mind for weeks 🙈 I'll be adding this to my Valentine's One-Shot series

Summary- You've been stood up, on valentine's Day or all days. At least you won't be spending the night alone, now Thor finally has you to himself.

Word count- 1, 806

Pairing- Thor x you

Warnings- Swearing, smut, unprotected sex

18+ Only!

Posted: 10th February 2021

⚡ Bolts of Pleasure ⚡

You leant your head on the cold, marble worktop - the coolness easing the pressure of the already lingering tension head ache. How could he stand you up? Today of all day's.

Somewhere in the distance, over the sound of your own thoughts, you barely hear the sound of the main door sliding open. Nonchalantly wondering who it could be, you knew it wasn't Tony because he was out at dinner with Pepper and you knew this because you were supposed to be there too - a double date.

Something Pepper had organised because she was the one who set you up with that prick in the first place - you can't even bring yourself to say his name. You should've known dating anyone who wasn't involved in anything within the headquarters would end in trouble anyway.

You assumed the other couples would be out doing other romantic bullshit while you were sure all the other guys were on a mission. So who the hell could it be?

The kitchen doors opened behind you and by the sounds of the unmistakably heavy foot fall, it was definitely Thor. Neither of you said anything for a noticeably long pause, you didn't even bother to move your head off of the kitchen worktop.

"You do know it's the day of the valentine's, don't you?" Comes Thors booming voice from behind you, trust him to state the obvious.

"Valentine's Day and yes of course I do, why do you think I'm here? Alone. Banging my head against the counter."

"Please don't do that, I don't want you to hurt yourself" he says with a sincerity in his voice.

"Sarcasm just goes straight over your head doesn't it?" You say, finally standing up to face Thor just so he could see you rolling your eyes at him. You know the statement would be lost to him if he couldn't see your facial expressions.

"Not much can go over my head without me seeing it first, but yes if you say so" ok so even seeing your facial expression didn't work this time. You laugh out loud at his lack of understanding.

"Oh Thor, you do know how to cheer me up"

"Good. Now you may proceed with your head banging if you so wish"

Have you always found his ditziness to be so cute or is this a new occurance?

"I'm going to put my head back down but only because I have a banging headache, these pills should kick in soon. Besides now you're here you might as well keep me company" This made Thor smile from ear to ear as you resumed your earlier position.

Unbeknownst to you Thor had walked in to the room to find you bent over, your delicious ass accentuated by those tight leather trousers you were wearing. He'd been hoping to find you here alone, once he'd heard about you being stood up, but wasn't quite sure how to handle how he found you. If he had his way he would have just walked over and made his move straight away but he'd been taught how things work differently here and he's been working so hard on his restraint.

Now you're bent over again and it's making his mind go blank, all he can think about is how he wants to shove his dick into you while he grabs on to those voluptuous cheeks.

"Thor?" You ask wondering why he's still stood by the doors.

Fuck, the way you say his name makes his fingertips tingle with bolts of electrical current. He wants to hear you scream his name while he's pulling your hair back and slamming his dick between those cheeks until he's balls deep.

"Your trousers are very tight" You hear Thor's footsteps stop behind you and before you can mutter something about him stating the obvious a moan escapes your lips as a slight bolt of electric soars through your core. Where did that come from?

Thor still hadn't quite got to grips with controlling his power while he was in the moment - maybe something to do with all the testosterone. His eyes widened, shocked by your reaction but the way he elicited that moan spurred him to continue.

Thor's hands were still gripping your ass as you got your bearings, realising where the shock came from and not hating the idea. You wanted more.

Moving his hands to your hips as you pushed yourself on to his straining cock, gripping on tightly while he pushed himself against you - his head hanging back as he bit his bottom lip and felt the lightning electrify his body.

Fuck me. If you knew sex with Thor would be this amazing you would've made sure it happened a lot sooner. You could feel his body tingling, like a vibration as the currents circulated through his veins,

flowing with the blood into his rather large appendige.

Thor slapped your ass again, accidentally catching your slit with his fingertips. Your pussy clenched as another bolt of pleasure went through you.

"Shit, Thor" you moaned deeply making him groan with desperation.

He's wanted to hear you saying his name, like that, for a while now and isn't disappointed with the way it sounds falling from your lips. Now he won't stop until your screaming his name, begging for him to fuck you into oblivion.

You pushed yourself against his now rock hard cock craving the feel of him inside of you. The vibration hits your clit and sends you over the edge, making you tremble and your knees go weak as you come, hard. Feeling dizzy as you come down.

Thor catches you as you buckle, turning you around and pushing you up against the counter. Your eyes are hooded with need as he handles your body, gripping at your curves with his electric fingers.

Your body jerks everytime he touches you, little does he know that with every touch your pussy clenches building up that deep orgasm once again. Thor's powers leave other men at a major disadvantage, how can anyone ever live up to this. Even worse, how can you now be around Thor without thinking about what he can do to you every time you see him.

His hand travels hungrily up your top, straight to your nipples while his lips attach to yours. You can feel his facial hair tickling your upper lip, a whole new sensation to your already tingling body.

Thor takes your tender, erect nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Squeezing gently as he emits tiny shocks and watches as you convulse around him, small, soft whimpers leaving your mouth involuntarily.

"Mmm, Thor. Fuck" you can't stand the tension much longer.

He's in awe with how much he can pleasure you with just the touch of his fingers. If he'd known it would be this easy to make your usual fiesty self, submit so easily, he wouldn't have been quite so intimidated by you. Look at you now, quivering under his touch, he's pretty sure your seconds away from fully giving yourself to him. He stops touching you, waiting to see how you'll react, testing his theory.

"Don't stop" you moan, pushing your heat against him as his hands grab your ass.

"Tell me what you want, my love" he whispers seductively against your ear, almost making you come.

"Oh god, do that again" you whine into his neck, wrapping your arms around his neck and savouring the other worldly scent of the god of thunder.

"Do what? My sweet - " his breath tickles your ear as he whispers again, he knows exactly what you want. Nibbling gently on your earlobe as you struggle to hold up the weight of your head, crumbling beneath him. " - Now, tell me what you want"

"I want you. Fuck me Thor, fuck me hard" leaning back on your hands with your lips parted.

"I thought you'd never ask" he growls, his voice becoming impossibily deeper.

Trying to pull down those tight trousers is going to take way too long and he doesn't have the patience for that. Instead he reaches out and effortlessly slits the gusset in half. Unable to contain himself when he sees how wet you are.

You reach down to unbuckle his belt, he's watching you intently, his cock straining against his trousers. You pull them down, just enough to watch his cock spring up, with a weapon like that he has no need for the Mjolnir. You instinctively want to take it in your mouth but there's no time for that now. You lean backwards, watching as he lines his cock up with your entrance. He stops, pausing for an agonisingly long time, watching your face screw with need.

Thor can see how much you want him and he's savouring the moment, relishing in it. Not forgetting how he wants to hear you beg for him, waiting patiently.

You look at him expectantly, grinding yourself forward until you can feel the tip of his cock.

"Thor, please!" You plead embarrassingly, desperately.

That's all he needed to hear before he painfully, slowly eased himself into your tight pussy. Inhaling deeply as your walls clamped around him. Finally feeling the warmth of your insides, a feeling he's been craving since the first time he met you.

You laid back on to the counter while he gripped your thighs, holding them up as he slammed his cock deep into you, the pressure building as he relentlessly pounds you. Those bolts of pleasure sending shocks shooting through your veins, with every thrust.

Thor held onto your thighs tightly, gripping his thumbs into your flesh while he ravages you. Months and months of pent up frustration finally being released. Grunting as he thrusted the brutal strength of his passion into you with force, loving the way your face contorts with every hit of your spot.

"Thor!" You scream his name as you gush all over his cock when he hits your spot, hard, repeatedly.

Your finally screaming his name, hopefully not for the last time. He watches the way your third orgasm builds, clenching around him as your legs shake in his hands.

How could it be the only time, when this is what he does to you? You're a dripping mess by the time he's ready. The gripping sensation rising as your climaxes peak again, releasing sparks of lightning all around you. Pushing his cock deep inside you as he shoots his warm, powerful load into you.

Your hair clings to your face as you fall back onto the counter, your body feels like jelly and you can't move just yet. Your eyes are closed but you can feel Thor still holding your legs while he waits for you to recover, gently tickling your thighs with his thumb.

"I've wanted to do that for such a long time, would you be willing to make love with me again?" He says smiling widely, hardly breathelss at all - the stamina of a god!

"You can do that again?" You say breathlessly, impressed with his enthusiasm.

"I can go all night, my love. I am the god of thunder" he says proudly, puffing out his chest.

"You certainly are"

#thor series #smut #mcu smut #thor x you #thor x reader #thor smut #thor odinson #thor odison x reader #thor odison imagine

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ronsonlywhore · 3 years

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❛ 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗵 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿. ❜ remus lupin x reader

summary: you hate the thunder, so remus makes it go away. (or in which remus doesn’t really make it stop, but he holds you until it does.)

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

a/n: a thunderstorm woke me up this morning.. it was like all hell was raining loose, mother nature was not having it today </3 anyways yeah i was scared, that thunder was loud asf

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the crash of the thunder makes you bolt upright, pulling the sheets toward you frantically and interrupting the peaceful sleep you had managed to fall into. thunder booms again; you dive under the covers, but whether out of annoyance at being woken up or fear of the downpour roaring through the atmosphere, you’d rather not say.

earlier, the thunderstorm currently raging outside had been nothing more than a light drizzle with a few lightning flashes here and there. the thunder had been practically non-existent while you had gotten ready for bed, and it only started until you were half-asleep, too drawn within the tranquil oblivion you had fallen into to notice or care.

there was no way you’d be falling back asleep now, though. the rain hit the windows too heavily, the wind howled like it could knock down hogwarts’ seemingly sturdy walls, and...was it hailing, as well? great, you think, just my luck.

the thunder roars again, loudly resonating throughout the grounds, and you snuggle deeper into the blankets. in a bed a few feet away from you, you hear lily snore, clear as a bell even with the storm crashing through outside. that brings you a shred of comfort; maybe you could sleep away the downpour after all.

that reassurance is quickly snatched away when a particularly big clap of thunder manages to rattle the dormitory window, a feat that is not easily achieved thanks to the ancient magic keeping hogwarts upright.

when you were much smaller, storms like this one would have you bolting to your parents’ room in the middle of the night, your fear of the pitch-black, creaky old house after dark be damned. your mother would say you were getting too old to burrow into their bed but still let you climb onto it, while your father would just peek at you and fall right back to sleep, his snores succeeding in drowning out the horrible thunder.

the summer before your first year at hogwarts, when a particularly scary rainstorm had you running to the comfort of your parents’ room again, your mother blatantly refused to let you dive under her covers. she said you were getting too old, too big, and “whose bed would you dash to at hogwarts?” while your father snored away in sleep, your mother told you to go back to your room and be brave. so, determined to show the thunder who’s boss, you marched back to your own bed with your head held high. your confidence lasted a total of two minutes and thirty-seven seconds, and you didn’t sleep a wink that night. instead, you stayed up, too afraid to sleep, and spent the rest of the early morning thinking about useless things: your dolls and what clothes you would dress them up in, the mudpies you had left to bake in the sun which were surely ruined thanks to the storm, and how you would beat the mean little boy next door to the swingset at the playground the next day.

so that’s what you did now: you thought about futile things while curled up in your dormitory bed, things like lessons and essays you hadn’t started on, chapters you were supposed to have read but could do fine without, parchment and quills and ink you needed to have replenished the next hogsmeade weekend.

in the end, it was pointless; the thunderstorm raged on, and you had never felt more awake in your life. abandoning the hope that you could fall asleep, you quietly pull back the curtains of your four-poster and tiptoe out the dormitory, careful not to wake any of the other sleeping girls in the room. reaching the staircase, you sluggishly walk down to the common room, planning on starting the fire up again and sitting in front of it until the morning, maybe even sneak down to the kitchens for food if you felt up for it.

you stop short when you see a figure sprawled on the stuffy couch, their lanky limbs hanging off of it. as you cautiously step closer, a smile tugs at your face to see it’s remus, transfiguration book abandoned and left open on his steadily rising and falling chest, used parchment strewn all over the floor. you make your way over and sit down on the armrest, contemplating whether you should wake him up or not; he looked happier when he was sleeping, as cliche as that sounded. you wonder what he’s dreaming of.

another roar of thunder; you jump, almost falling off the couch, and decide that waking remus up would only be for the best...after all, you didn’t want him to wake up with a sore neck from having to sleep in that awful position, did you?

you gently shake him, muttering, “remmy...remus.” he doesn’t stir, though, and you take to poking his arm softly, then a bit harder as you start to wonder how heavy of a sleeper he really is. “remus!”

he wakes with a start, the book tumbling down to the floor as he sits up swiftly, calming down only when he sees you standing there expectantly. he rubs his eyes, yawning, and groggily asks, “(y/n)? what are you doing?”

“what are you doing?” you ask in response, looking curiously around at the bundle of parchment and quills scattered around him. the storm is far from your mind even if you can still hear it outside; remus has become the perfect distraction.

he yawns again and looks down at his watch. you notice he’s still in his uniform...has he not gone up to bed at all?

“i was working on the transfiguration essay due tomorrow...must’ve fallen asleep, i suppose,” he answers, and you realize that he hadn’t done it because of last week’s full moon; but remus was never one to make excuses for himself, even if those excuses were credible.

lightning flashes outside bringing with it another clap of thunder; remus’s attention turns to the window. to your surprise, he smiles.

“is it raining outside?” he asks as he moves for a better view. so much for a distraction, you think as remus exclaims excitedly, “oh, it’s more than rain, it’s a storm!”

his face lights up, or maybe it’s just the lightning continuing outside. he proceeds to stare, transfixed, at the downpour. “beautiful, is it not? how the lightning can be sometimes white, or purple, or maybe even both. how the thunder rattles the earth down to its core,” he says after some time.

beautiful? if beautiful meant terrifying and too intense for your liking then, “yes, i suppose it is,” you answer.

another thunder strike, probably the loudest one that night, makes you jump. remus notices, and, with an expression of concern on his face, says more than asks, “you’re afraid of the thunder...that’s why you woke me up.”

how could one person be so intuitive?

you shrug your shoulders and nod, mumbling, “ever since i was a child.” remus smiles, that warm smile that he had when he was sleeping, as he walks over to the couch again, sitting down and getting himself comfortable. moving the quills and his book out of the way, he looks up at you expectantly. “well?” he asks.

“well what?” you inquire back, confused.

he laughs. “my lap is open for the taking,” remus says and pats his legs. realizing what he’s offering, you scramble over to the couch, laying down and resting your head on his lap, finally feeling truly at ease for the first time that night.

remus picks his book back up again, and you ask, “won’t you be sleeping, too?”

he shakes his head and smiles gently. “no, i have to finish this transfiguration essay. but don’t worry; i’ll be here with you until you fall asleep.”

a few minutes pass, and remus starts idly drawing random shapes on your arm, soothing you until you’re in that state between consciousness and sleep. just as you feel yourself slipping away, thunder booms, and you flinch, the sound startling you.

remus is quick to lean down and press gentle kisses to your forehead, murmuring all the while, “‘s alright. go to sleep, my love.” you can hear the fatigue in his voice, and know he won’t last much longer awake.

the thunder goes away for a few minutes but comes back again, although you don’t notice it much with remus’s arms wrapped around you. you glance up at him one last time before closing your eyes, and see remus dozing off again, the small smile he gets in his sleep back.

content, you snuggle in closer; this might’ve been the longest night of your life, but could proudly say the storm didn’t scare you as much anymore, not when remus held you through the crash of the thunder.

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a/n: why does this feel like the longest thing i've ever written LMFAO. anyways i love remus lupin <3

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@gwlvr @eunoniaa @skaratjung @miraclesoflove @ronbrokemyheart @inglourious-imagines @iiclarixa @drachoesimp

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wardenannie · 3 years

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A very, very angsty one-shot. Warning for pregnancy loss. Crossposted on my Ao3.

Clouds of noxious smoke filled up the crystal cavern, wall to wall. It was only as Levi soared above it, over it with the vigilance of a hunting hawk, that he watched as the hook buried itself in Hange’s left shoulder. Time seemed to slow before his eyes, and that infernal shot was followed by three resounding bangs, each louder than the last in his ears. bang. Bang. BANG.

The bullets were cloaked in sprays of red as they impacted Hange’s falling form. The hook unlatched and the assailant retreated in a burst of steam, but Levi’s eyes never strayed from the squad leader.

“Hange!” More than one of the kids shouted her name in distress as the cavern began to shake.

She struck a pillar, body limp, then slid down its faceted surface, leaving a trail of dark crimson in her wake. One of her hands cupped her bleeding middle, blood welling between her paling fingers.

Levi cursed, dropping down to her side. The others were already crowding around, chips of glittering crystal were beginning to rain down from the cavern’s high ceiling.

“Hange?” There was so much blood. It pooled around her, seeping out of her middle and between her legs. Her eyes were half open, aware but glassy. It looked like one shot had struck her sternum, another just beneath her breasts, and the last had lodged itself in her lower abdomen.

“You-

She coughed, blood spattering from her lips.

“You need to get... get out of here,” her fingers worked weakly against the smooth floor, body tensing like she meant to sit up. “I can’t... just leave me.”

Levi shook his head, pressing a gentle hand into her good shoulder, “Fuck that. Stay down. Moblit, Armin, can you carry her? She needs medical attention, now.”

The men in question rushed to scoop her up, suspending her between their bodies. She winced and sighed, breath coming out in stuttering gasps.

Levi watched them retreat, biting back a torrent of emotion as Hange’s toes dragged trails of blood into the floor. She was close to death, that was obvious. Three pellets of lead had lodged themselves into her insides and torn her body asunder.

Hange Zoe.

His Hange.

The Captain’s heart was in his throat, hands shaking. He wanted to hit his knees and scream and beg whatever powers loomed above to spare her. He’d already lost so much. Levi felt as though his heart were being rendered in two. He would gladly have taken those shots for her, if it were possible, to spare her the pain and fear that accompanied death.

Just the night before she had been so lively, excited for the coming battle. Sweaty over him, moaning under him. Kissing him. Whispering his name in mantra, like a prayer.

Now he wasn’t certain that they would ever make love again, and he couldn’t even be at her side as she faded.

It was Jean who broke him from his trance, “Your orders, Captain?”

Levi shook his head, eyes still stinging, but no tears were shed. He steeled himself, braced himself for the ultimate loss of another friend, a companion, his secret lover. He was a wounded man, but also he was a soldier, and he had a duty to uphold.

Anything for the greater good. Everything.

When he spoke, motioning with his blade towards an opening in the crystal, his voice was low, dangerous, deadly and dripping with venom, “We kill Rod Reiss.”

Someone had to pay for what had happened to Hange. The true king of the accursed Walls would do nicely.

Rod Reiss was dead and Hange was alive.

Upon his return from Orvud, that was all he knew of her condition. Alive. Badly injured, he knew. But gracefully alive.

Levi wasted no time in stabling his horse and rushing through the neatly laid halls of HQ towards the infirmary. Perhaps he was being too obvious, perhaps the kids would catch on to his attachment, but he didn’t care. Hange was all that mattered, he cared about nothing else in that moment.

They were keeping her in a private room, a benefit of her rank. Levi had no intention to leave her side for any longer than it took him to bathe.

When he arrived he found Erwin had beaten him there. The man stood in a shaft of golden sunlight, it caught in his blond hair and brightened his icy eyes, which were paradoxically grim. Dust motes danced around him. Beside him stood redheaded woman in white nurses garb. Her lips were pursed, and when she spotted Levi in the doorway her expression darkened.

Ignoring them entirely, Levi rushed to the side of the bed where Hange lay on top of the linens. She was naked from the waist up, but her entire upper body was bound in fresh bandages. There was a cool rag laid over her forehead and eyes. Relief flooded Levi’s chest and pooled in his gut. He knelt beside the bed, grateful for her peaceful expression and the steady rise of her chest.

“Has she woken up yet?” Levi asked, gaze unwavering. He took her hand in his, not caring that the Commander was watching over his shoulder.

“No,” The nurse answered. Then she cleared her throat, “Mr. Ackerman, there are some complications we need to discuss.”

Levi’s thumb stroked over the backs of Hange’s knuckles. His brow furrowed and he scowled, forced to look away from his lover and at the nurse, “What?”

His irritability seemed to surprise the woman, who took a step back. Levi’s reputation had clearly preceded him.

Erwin laid a hand on her shoulder smiling sadly, “It’s okay, Nyla. I’ll take care of things here.”

“But Commander it’s standard procedure that I inform-

“Shhh,” he shushed her delicately. “Dismissed. Take the rest of the day off.”

She pursed her lips, but didn’t argue any further, retreating from the room on light feet.

“What’s going on, Erwin?” Levi demanded, “You were both acting like someone shit the bed.”

“Succinctly put,” the Commander answered, dryly. Then his expression darkened, and he continued. “I’ve known about the relationship the two of you share for some time now.”

Levi paled, “Shit.”

Erwin sighed, “Though I believe relationships between comrades are ill-advised, I’m not going to stop you.”

“How did you figure it out?”

His thick eyebrows shot up near to his hairline, amused, “Hange isn’t particularly quiet in bed. One stroll by her quarters was all it took.”

Levi rolled his eyes, squeezing Hange’s fingers in his. Of course it was her fucking sex moans that gave them away, “I always tell her to keep it down.”

Erwin cleared his throat, “That’s besides the point, though. I’m only informing you that I know as preamble for what I’m about to say. Levi, please sit on the bed. This is going to be quite the shock.”

Feeling suddenly cold, Levi obeyed without a word. He still held on to Hange’s hand, her touch anchoring him to reality even from sleep.

“When Hange arrived here she had already been stabilized, save for profuse bleeding from the vagina. They managed to dig out the bullet that had perforated her uterus, but the bleeding continued for some time.”

“But she’s okay now, right?” Levi glanced back at her, down her lean body and between her thighs. She was wearing simple grey pants. They were unstained by blood.

“She was pregnant, Levi,” Erwin stated, his voice was even and his eyes were emotionless. “They believe she was between three and four months along. The baby was killed when she was shot.”

Levi went rigid, hands beginning to shake in his lap. His slate eyes widened and he looked up to Erwin with pure confusion and blended agony swirling in his eyes.

“That’s not... that’s not possible,” his voice shook, his heart thundered in his aching chest. She had taken a contraceptive tea... Him? A father?

Erwin pursed his mouth, extending a hand to rest on Levi’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, Captain.”

Levi dropped his head into his hands, closing his eyes tight. It hurt. God help help him it hurt so badly. Every inch of him ached. They gave up so much for this life, and they did so willingly, happily even, but this was simply too much. A baby. Hange had been carrying a baby. Their baby. A baby that they had made together.

“I need,” real, tangible tears stung at the corners of Levi’s eyes. “I need a moment, Commander.”

Erwin nodded his head and left the room without another word, shutting the door carefully behind him.

Finally alone, Levi turned to Hange where she lay unconscious. Her breath was even, chest rising in steady intervals, blissfully unaware of what they had lost. There was no way she had known, she would have told him immediately if she had even suspected she was pregnant.

Levi cried silently, staring at her peaceful face. The tears were hot against his skin, and no matter how he tried he simply couldn’t stem their flow.

He’d had a chance at a family, a life beyond the Survey Corps, beyond all of the violence and carnage and death. A fleeting, beautiful chance. And now it was gone, cruelly ripped from his hands on the floor of that damned crystal cavern.

He looked out the window, at the sky which had once awed him as a boy from the Underground. Now the blue seemed dull, the sun dim.

Nothing good ever seemed to stay.

Nothing save for Hange, who still breathed peacefully beside him. He pulled a chair up beside the bed, content to wait at her side until she opened her wine-colored eyes again.

It was two more days before Hange stirred, and when she did it was well past midnight. On the wall the steady ticking of a clock had lulled Levi into an uneasy sleep in his chair. Moonlight was the only thing illuminating the little infirmary room, splashing through the windowpane in long, silvery shafts. A vase of fresh picked wildflowers was sitting on the bedside table, courtesy of the 104th.

Hange shifted on top of her sheets, shivering slightly in the cool air. Even that tiny reflex pained her, and she made a small discontented noise that awoke Levi with a start.

“Levi?” She exhaled painfully, wincing as her shoulder pulled when she turned her head to face him. Her eyes brightened at the sight of him, ruffled and half asleep beside her. She smiled at him, “Levi, guess what?”

Levi leaned forward, hand reaching instinctively to touch her cheek before dropping to settle over her own hand, “What, four-eyes?”

“I’m not dead,” she wheezed out a laugh, which quickly morphed into a moan of pain.

“No joking around right now,” Levi scolded softly, standing to help cover her with a blanket. “You need to rest.”

Hange’s smile fell as she watched him unfold the blanket then drape it over her body, “Somethings wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Levi lied, unable to meet her eyes.

“Don’t lie to me, little man. I can read you like a book.”

Levi settled back into his chair, “I’ll tell you later, alright? Get some sleep.”

“No,” she would have crossed her arms if she weren’t full of bullet holes. “Tell me now, Levi. Your eyes are a little swollen, you never cry. And you’ve got dark circles. Something bad happened. Tell me now... oh my God, are the kids alright?”

She actually started like she might sit up, frenzied by the thought. Levi rushed to ease her back down onto the pillows.

“Easy four-eyes. The kids are fine, I promise,” he soothed. He took her hand again, stroking her knuckles.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Levi bowed his head, watery eyes obscured by his hair. His very soul ached as he whispered the words, “I love you, Hange.”

She went very still under his touch. They had never said those words to one another before, each afraid it would make what they had too real, too painful were one of them to die. But it was obvious to Levi now that their apprehension had never mattered.

“Levi...”

“You were pregnant,” he choked. “You miscarried when you were shot. Three to four months along, they said.”

Tears were streaming down his cheeks again, glimmering with a beauty that belied their source. His insides were a tangled mass of barbed wire, blood, and pure, unadulterated sadness. Everything hurt.

Hange was quiet for a while, hands folded neatly over her middle, eyes trained on the ceiling.

When she finally spoke her voice was so soft, so low that Levi could barely make out the words, “I should have known. All the signs were there but I ignored them as stress. Oh God, Levi. I should have known.”

Levi leaned onto the bed, “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Can’t I?” Wincing, she raised a hand to touch her forehead, “I went into battle pregnant, I allowed myself to be cornered and shot, pregnant. How did I miss this? How? I killed our baby.”

“No.” Levi said, fiercely, “Kenny and his damned fiends killed our baby. Rod fucking Reiss killed our baby. They’re all dead now. I made sure of that.”

Tears were brimming in her eyes now, and Levi couldn’t help but touch her cheek.

“We needed you there, Hange,” he said, softly. “We’re soldiers. We have a duty to the people of the walls, no matter what.”

The last three words were painful to say, but it was true. Their duty came above all else.

Hange cried softly for a while. Levi held her hand, crying silently with her. He touched her face, her hair, her hands. Eventually he leaned forward to kiss her gently on the mouth. She tasted of salt and blood, and she cupped the back of his neck to deepen the kiss.

When they parted, he whispered into the narrow space between their lips, “If you had died-

His voice cracked, then. And he realized for the first time in two days that he really, truly still had Hange. As long as she was breathing at his side, everything would be okay.

“Don’t think about that,” she breathed, and kissed him again. “We already lost so much.”

Hange scooted over to the left side of the bed, patting the right with her hand, “Come here.”

Wordlessly Levi joined her on the bed. The flow of his tears was beginning to stem. He savored the heat of Hange’s body next to his, and when he rested his head on her good shoulder he could hear the steady beat of her heart. His hand ventured delicately down the taut line of her stomach, settling reverently over her abdomen, right above where the baby had been.

Hange laid a hand over his, sniffing, “Do you think... I mean, someday this will all have to end, right? Eventually?”

Levi kissed her neck, “Eventually.”

“We can try again,” she promised, voice ragged, fingers combing through his hair. “When this is over, we’ll try.”

Levi hummed into her skin, inhaling the scent of her, feeling her alive beneath his touch.

“Levi?” Her voice was clearer now, tears slowing. Her fingers were rubbing circles on his knuckles over her abdomen.

“Hmm?”

“I love you, too.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #my writing #tw pregnancy #tw miscarriage

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lloydskywalkers · 3 years

Note

let me just start out by saying i love ever single one of your stories!!! i’m pretty new to the show and your works just add so much more feeling to everything and it’s sooo good!!! i don’t know if you ever do requests or not, so don’t bother with this if you’re busy!! but if you ever get a chance could you write smthg abt Jay and Kai? their friendship is so underrated but so good and i live for the moments in the show when Kai’s big brother instinct(tm) kicks in for him as well as Nya and Lloyd

aH thank you so much!! i’m so glad to hear that :D and this isn’t...exactly what you asked for, but Kai and Jay have this fun of dynamic that reminds me a lot of me and my brother, and i’ve been tossing around little bits of interaction between them for a while now, so i tried to make something coherent out of those :’D

Jay likes to think he’s pretty good at the whole compartmentalizing thing, for the most part. Mainly because he actually knows what it means, and it is not, for instance, locking your team up in a literal compartment while rushing off to fight the other compartment that is your resurrected homicidal father into submission.

“That was one time,” Lloyd will grumble, as if he’s only almost-died once. And then Jay will flinch, because that’s where his compartments come into play.

(Nadakhan gets one, Unagami gets another, the whole fun-times adoption reveal another, and everything else can get stuffed into the metaphorical attic since they won’t pay rent.)

Unfortunately, the attic is where the bad stuff lives.

Metaphorically.

If Jay had a nickel for every time he almost lost all of his friends, he’d have two nickels, plus another nickel for Cole falling into the fog, and another for Lloyd getting crushed by a roof, and another for Zane blowing up, and another for Nya in that awful dress with paling skin as her breathing stutters and the light in her eyes draining and —

And Jay is way, way too familiar with how it looks when his family dies, and all the nickels in the world won’t help that.

So while Jay likes to think he’s pretty good at compartmentalizing, he also thinks he’s got a valid excuse for the way he reacts when Lloyd goes down in the fight that afternoon. Sure, some vague part of his mind remembers that they’ve got a plan they’re running, and Lloyd should easily be able to handle a tiny little stumble — but Jay’s mind is stuck in glaring oranges and health bars, the unsteady gasping noise Lloyd had made before he went down, dissolving into digitized cubes just like everyone else, and Jay—

Jay can’t handle that, compartments or not, so he clears the space between them in a heartbeat just in time to take the bullet that comes hurtling Lloyd’s way.

It’d probably be a very noble and touching scene, if one) Jay didn’t make a hideous squeaking noise when it hit because bullets hurt, and two) the bullet would have missed Lloyd by a good two feet anyways.

Ah well, he thinks, as everything devolves into panicked yelling. It’s the thought that counts.

Except thoughts do not count when Kai is involved, apparently. Or any of the rest of the team, for that matter.

“What is wrong with you?” Kai hisses right in his face, eyes wild and sparking. “I was covering Lloyd, what were you doing?”

“Filling in for you, obviously,” Jay retorts. He has an excellent followup to that, real snappy and all, except that’s the moment Kai’s hand clamps down on the bullet wound in his arm to stop the bleeding, and Jay ends up stifling a shriek instead.

Great, he thinks, fighting back stinging tears of pain as he tries not to take Kai’s apparent wrath too personally. At least Cole looks worried, along the the rest of the team, who are dutifully concerned for his wellbeing like proper teammates should be.

“He’s going to need the hospital,” Zane informs them, his voice a lot steadier and calmer than his words make Jay feel. Zane’s eyebrows furrow as he studies his arm. “Stitches, probably.”

Jay swallows, trying not to curse. There’s a sharp scream as Nya finishes taking out another attacker just beyond them, and Jay figures that’s good enough.

“Okay,” Lloyd says, squeezing Jay’s wrist briefly. Either in comfort about the stitches or thanks for trying to cover him, Jay’s not sure. It’s a nice gesture, nonetheless. “Kai, Cole, can you get him there while we finish up? Sooner the better.”

Cole gives a sharp nod, and offers to take Jay from where Kai’s got him in a death grip. Kai shakes his head, and Jay’s stomach sinks. Sure enough, as soon as they’re clear of the scene, Kai starts going off.

“What did you mean, ‘filling in for me’,” he grinds through his teeth, clearly not about to let this go.

Jay bristles in response at his tone. “I meant,” he bites out, through a hot flare of pain in his arm. Kai’s always merciless with the bandages, even when he’s not in a mood. “That you weren’t there. So I covered.”

He should leave it at that, but Jay’s in a foul enough mood to finish with a condescending, “You’re welcome.”

Kai’s expression grows thunderous. “You didn’t need to. I was right there, you shouldn’t have — you weren’t needed, you should’ve held back.”

Jay feels his chest go tight. His head is clouding with anger, and the pain in his arm isn’t helping, but — ‘you weren’t needed’? Kai really didn’t skimp on the jerk juice this morning, did he.

“Oh, like you could’ve done so much better,” Jay glares. “Lloyd would’ve been toast by the time you got to him.”

“I could’ve made it!”

“Yeah right—”

“I would have, and I wouldn’t have gotten hit!” Kai snarls back. Something in Jay snaps. Or maybe it’s just the steadily increasing blood loss, but of all the nerve—

“Well you didn’t, ‘cause you weren’t there!” he snaps back. “You were too slow, which is real funny since your brain is too!”

It’s not his best comeback, he’ll admit, but Kai looks as if he’s about to light him on fire, if he weren’t stuck carrying Jay like the cover of some awful romance novel, blood getting all over his uniform as they both scream at each other. Maybe Jay will get lucky, and Kai will combust, and they’ll both go up in flames before they can remember that Cole is right there watching them.

“Cut it out, now!”

Oops, too late. For all the incensed authority in Cole’s voice, there’s still a traitorous falter that lets them both know they’ve screwed up. They fall silent, the atmosphere heavy with the lingering tension and new sense of guilt.

And the disgusting sound of Jay’s blood leaking through the makeshift bandage and hitting the ground, truly revolting, he hates blood.

“Just…no more. Please, shut up until we’re at the hospital.” Cole marches forward, snatches Jay from Kai’s arms, and proceeds to beat the fastest route to the hospital at a militant pace.

Jay still looks like some helpless romance cover heroine, dangling from Cole’s arms like he is. It occurs to him that he doesn’t even need to be carried — it’s his arm that’s hurt, he can still walk—

But any protests die rapidly at the look on Cole’s face. And at least this way, Jay thinks sullenly, he can fixedly ignore Kai.

Then again, Kai’s got a killer glare, and Jay’s always been garbage at ignoring people when his feelings are hurt.

* * * * * * * *

Despite the fuss everyone makes, Jay’s arm really isn’t that bad. They hook him up with some pretty sweet meds so he remembers zero of the actual arm-fixing, and he wakes up just in time to complain about being held in the hospital for ‘observation’ or whatever.

“It’s to make sure there’s no infection, or that you don’t rip your stitches out,” Nya tells him pointedly. Jay cringes under the look she gives him at that last part. Geez. You get kicked in the stitches one time after sneaking out early and suddenly no one’s got any faith in you. Typical.

“Why couldn’t we have just gone to medbay,” Jay grumbles. “Pixal gives way better stitches than this, anyways.”

“Gun wounds get hospitals,” Nya reminds him. “And it’s not fair to put that kind of pressure on Pix when we can avoid it.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Nya glares at him. “It most certainly was that bad.”

“Oh, so when you get your arm crushed by a car, it’s fine,” Jay glares back. “But when I get a tiny little bullet nick, it’s that bad.”

Nya rolls her eyes, ignoring him. “Just think of it this way,” she says. “Now you have a little more time before Lloyd starts weeping apologies all over you.”

“Aw, no,” Jay groans, leaning back in the hospital bed. “Tell me he’s not blaming himself, Nya.”

“I think we had a promise about not lying to each other, or something,” Nya says, sympathetically. She winces. “Pretty sure he made the connection, too.”

Jay frowns. “What connection?”

Nya shifts, her eyes darting from side to side. “The, uh, the whole…Prime Empire, thing.”

Jay stares at her for a beat, trying to reconcile his blatant shock with the roiling nausea at the mention in his stomach. Nya looking at him all kind and sympathetically isn’t helping, either, because she might have made it down to the final two, but she was never all alone, and the reminder that she’d have been fine if Jay hadn’t gotten her killed twice is—

Bad. Real bad, not good, zero out of ten stars. Maybe he can take a bullet for Nya, next, and that’ll — that’ll help things, maybe. Equivalent exchange? Restitution? Some kind of fancy word that means Jay swears he’s gonna make it up.

In the meantime, he smothers the rising sickness in his throat and sinks lower into the bed, sulking. “It’s too easy to recognize trauma in this team.”

“I hear you,” Nya sighs, wearily. She nudges his shoulder, rising from her seat near the bed. “Speaking of. Someone’s got something they want to say to you.”

It takes Jay a second, but his eyes widen as Nya heads for the door. “Wait, wait wait wait, don’t you dare—”

“Love you,” Nya says cheekily, before taking her merry leave of the room. There’s a brief scuffle from outside, and the sound of Kai yelping, before Nya shoves him through the door, slamming it shut behind him with a damning click.

For a second, Jay’s tempted to hit the ‘call nurse’ button as hard as he can, in some desperate attempt to escape. Then he gets a good look at Kai, who’s turned a pale, queasy color that frankly looks awful on him, which is saying a lot ‘cause there isn’t much that doesn’t look good on Kai, but the expression he has on now—

Aw, man, now Jay’s feeling guilty and it isn’t even his fault. Stupid moral conscience center, he curses himself.

“So, uh…” he begins, because far be it from him to let this kind of awkward silence stretch on any longer. “Nice, ah, weather we’re having?”

Kai doesn’t respond, staring fixedly at the floor, and Jay sizes up the ‘call nurse’ button again. Just for the both of their sakes, of course.

But then Kai takes a deep breath, blows it out, and rocks back on his heels, fiddling with his hands. “I, um. I’m sorry.”

Jay’s jaw drops open. Which is probably an overdramatic move, all things considered, but unless he’s suddenly lost the ability to understand words, Kai just apologized to him.

Kai apologized. To him.

It’s not that Kai apologizing is some great big deal — Kai might have his pride, but he’s also an intuitive and good-hearted person who knows when he’s messed up. But to him?

Jay knows how he and Kai work. Kai knows how he and Jay work, and he’s breaking the rules. Because Kai and Jay don’t apologize to each other. Unless it’s some awkward expression of sympathy, they’ve never needed to. They fight dirty, aim for each other’s kneecaps, swear eternal vengeance and hatred at each other before storming off, then an hour later Jay’s bounding into Kai’s room to show him dumb meme videos and neither of them even remember what they were fighting about.

Acknowledging said fight with something as gushy as apologizing is not only useless since they both forget what they’re apologizing for anyways, but also useless because it’ll take too much time, and counterproductive on top, because it’ll most likely end in another fight about who apologized better. So for Kai to walk in and say sorry—

“Oh no, who did you kill?” Jay says, paling.

Kai spears him with a look, but it’s so pathetically watered-down and miserable that Jay forgets to glare back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jay mutters. “I just—”

“No, no, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Kai interrupts. He hesitates, then sighs. “But that’s fair. I — I was unfair. To you, back there. Like, really unfair, in a bad way, ‘cause you were shot and I know you meant well, but you—”

Kai gestures wildly with his hands, his stream of words cutting off. Jay is left to stare open-mouthed at him again. Babbling like this is Jay’s thing. Kai is breaking all the rules today, huh.

“I just…” Kai trails off, ducking his head. “I don’t like watching you guys get hurt. I don’t — I don’t like watching you get hurt. And I get scared, but it comes out angry, and then I make a mess of things so I’m — sorry. Really sorry, for biting your head off.”

He exhales, a little shaky, fingers balled up in tight fists as his head hangs low, refusing to meet Jay’s eyes. Something softens in Jay’s chest, like gooey melting butter or something else equally pathetic. But it’s rare that Kai vocalizes this stuff, despite the fact that Jay knows he cares, and it’s nice to hear it, so he figures he’s entitled to all the butter he wants.

Jay’s own gaze falters, and the something starts to twist. He bites his lip, tugging half-heartedly at the bandages around his arm.

“Well,” he pauses, thinking of the way his brain had shifted to autopilot when he’d watched Lloyd falter, the razor-sharp shard of terror that always splinters through him when any of their teammates come too close to the awful images of death left in his head. He swallows. “I guess I don’t really have any room to talk,” he murmurs. “Be pretty dumb if I blamed you for that.”

He’s preparing to sink back into his own well of self-pity and loathing, resigned to spending the next few hours until they check him out of the hospital replaying bad memories in his head, when Kai’s next to him all of the sudden, shoving him over on the hospital bed.

“Hey, hey, what’s the big idea—”

“Move, c’mon. You don’t need that much room, you’re a stick,” Kai grumbles, before grinning brightly in success as Jay makes him space. The contrast in expression is enough to startle Jay into silence, and Kai takes advantage. “I know that look. But you already got shot, so you gotta cheer up now.”

“So you’re forcing me into cheerfulness by stealing my hospital bed,” Jay scowls, but the sting is lost in the sudden surge of affection as Kai elbows his way on the bed with him, a steady warmth by his side.

“I’m gifting you my presence, you should be celebrating,” Kai huffs, as he pulls his phone out. “Now stop looking so sad and watch this video I got of a bunch’a geese chasing Zane at the park the other day.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Jay says, but he’s already snickering as he leans his head against Kai’s shoulder to get a better look.

He’s forgotten to tell Kai he forgives him, but like most things between them — Jay doesn’t really need to say it out loud.

#answered #ninjago #my fic #kai smith #jay walker #tumblr pls format right for once #Anonymous

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whereflowersbloom · 3 years

Text

Dum Spiro Spero

The leader of the league of shadows and secrets was watching a beautiful creature bathing in sunlight. Shinning ebony hair catching each breath of early autumn’s glinting sunset, a tendril of her hair catching in the wind as it breaks free from an elaborated braid. Raven was kneeling in the garden, hands working the soil, to bring life, making new life grow. Some moments she stopped to enjoy the autumnal breeze on her face, staring into the distance as if caught in between this world and another.

Looking back Damian never thought he would have this. It had never been an option for him. His life was mostly filled with dangers, blood, threats and uncertainty. Wondering if he would live to see the next sunrise or survive enough to watch the following sunset. His life had been filled with hatred. Hatred towards a parent be believed had abandoned him, an enemy that murdered his loved ones who raised him. He did everything in his power to avenge them but he did not feel satisfaction or any kind of gratification after killing him. No. The emptiness did not fade away.

There were times where he was filled with so much regrets. Regret of rejecting his father and not believing in him, that he cared for him. Regret of the days he spent resenting his adoptive brothers for having the chance of a different life. Regret for not being able to love someone freely. Not until her.

The first time he saw her he couldn’t help but stare in awe. The same day Damian drew in his first breath of Gotham City air.

An eternity could have passed by in the blink of an eye, breath hitched in his throat, eyes quivering with strong emotion, heart hammering in his chest and yet he would have stared at the sight of her the rest of his days. For it was humanly impossible to get his eyes off of her. It was a view he had been starved of for eighteen years.

He stared because she was light.

She was home. Finally.

Porcelain skin, thick locks of raven hair, piercing, unearthly amethysts struck through his soul. And he felt alive, whole.

He had learned an important lesson. Life was too short, shorter if you’re an assassin, it was too precious. You could never waste a second of it, especially with the people closest to your heart. And he made a solemn promise to his family and himself. He decided to live without regret. To take the opportunities that life handed him and most importantly, he swore to himself that even no matter what happened in the past, the terrible things he had done, his faults and mistakes. He deserved to be happy.

That was five years ago.

It was easy to lurk in the shadows of the their house, a petite, cozy cottage close to the league’s headquarters. In the Kunlun mountains he had found a rustic little gem straight out of a Jane Austen or Charlotte Bronté novel, that was how Raven had described it. She had been working on the garden for eight months. There were now fragrant jasmine bushes and two apple trees, one almost completely covered by creamy white climbing roses, clusters of bluebells, foxgloves, pink Hibiscus flowers, pale lavender orchids, and the entire lawn was strewn with white and yellow daisies. In the shadows he knew he would not disturb her reverie. Yet he had been caught, luminous violet eyes wiser than her years cast to where he has hidden with a gentle smile that just pricked the corners of her mouth. “You know I can feel you staring, Damian. The intensity of your emotions is making me go weak.”

Damian couldn’t stop admiring his lover. Because the eyes that followed her were ones brimmed with love, adoration. Stepping into the sunlight, gently he helped her stand up, instinctively wrapping an arm around her waist. “You will never be weak, beloved. Not because of me or anyone.” Words were spoken softly, his other hand reaching to lift a white lily from the blooming bulbs bed and tucking it right behind her ear. Not too far off in the distance the radiant sun continued arching low in the sky reading to say goodbye and allowing the sky to welcome the moon and stars.

One of his long, tanned hands, cupped her face with delicacy, her body aching desperately for his touch. He placed his remaining hand over her chest. She was aware that Damian could feel the rapid pulse of her heart through skin. “Thought you’re stronger than any other living creature in this universe. There is strength in your goodness, as much as there is in steel and fire.” His emerald eyes were filled with so much joy, so much warmth and devotion, it was endless, everflowing.

Raven barely thought she was breathing, willing her unruly heart to ease a fraction, soothe down its beating instead of racing even after all these years together. Damian gently kissed her temple and murmured against her rosy cheek in a low voice that made goosebumps rise on her tender flesh. “Do you know why I fell in love with you?”

She licked her lips and pretended to think about it for a moment. “Because I said you were insufferable our first meeting.” She teased. As much as his presence annoyed her at first, she had come to feel comfortable around him, safe, content. The feelings she had tried to contain became harder and harder to ignore. Slowly, he carved himself into her heart, something she did not have a name for took root. Every time he saw him, heart fluttered in her chest like a child, and everytime he smiled at her...oh Azar she couldn’t take the clash of ardent emotions. After that something inside her began to loosen, shift, to change. She had been a fool, deceiving herself it was nothing more than friendship.

Everything changed for them and she was infinitely thankful both had put in the effort to help each other overcome their fears. They only required a little push from Dick at the beginning, because both were impossibly stubborn.

Damian chuckled audibly. It was a fascinating sound she thought to herself. His hand trailed along her collarbone, enjoying the smooth texture of her ivory skin, grasping the side of her face. Green orbs bored into violet constellations. He spoke firmly and his features hardened slightly. There was a battle raging behind his green gaze, like he was desperately fighting something inside him. His past. “You did not judge me for my past actions, for the assassin I was raised to be. I was coated in blood, spent my days destroying and taking lives. And yet you found goodness in me.” His deep voice was rough and cracked just a bit.

She had given him five years worth of smiles, laughter, love and so much more. Filling the void inside him after losing his grandfather and mother. She had lifted him up. Damian would never let her go. He refused to. How could he?

“Dum spiro spero.” He breathed, heart thundering in his chest.

He did not have tell her its definition. She knew the meaning of the phrase. She blinked in surprise, her mind automatically translated it. While I breath, I hope.

Interlacing his hand with hers, entwined like a vine to tree, he swallowed hard before continuing. “You are my hope, Raven. When I look at you I see hope.” Raven was this incredible force which had burrowed itself so deeply within him being that there would be no uprooting it. Never.

She found herself voiceless, giving time for his words to sink in. Then she did not have to think about her responses for more than a second. She knew exactly what she wanted to say.

Raven held his gaze, unwavering, for another minute before speaking. “I know you really look at me and see me for who I am and I hope you know, I will always look at you and I will see someone who despite seeing the worst of it all, is still kind, good, a generous and compassionate soul.”

The raw emotion swimming in his eyes made her want to embrace him for eternity. He loved her. He loved her more than she ever imagined. She felt her own eyes watering, tears running down her cheeks which Damian wiped away with careful motions.

“I would love to be your hope until the end of my days.” She whispered voice thick with emotion, forehead pressed against his. His skin was warmer than hers, she let herself submerge in the lingeringly tender contact. Unable to hold back anymore Damian kissed her ferociously, with starved lips, pouring all his words and feelings into the caress. Squeezing her frame against his, wishing for any distance to vanish, anything that would keep them apart.

“I love you.” He whispered in the most intimate of ways against her mouth.

Damian took her in his arms, carrying her and not wasting time, making his way inside the small cottage. They were two souls in love, hearts beating the same tune, in perfect synchrony.

Happy birthday chromie 🙈🙈🙈❤️❤️❤️

This small oneshot is dedicated to @chromium7sky my closest friend in the fandom.

I hope you all like it though. @tweepunkgrl @alerialblu @andthendk @ravenfan1242 @carnationmilk @bourniebna @srose-foxfire @sofiii

#damirae #demon birds #damian wayne #damian al ghul #raven roth #teen titans #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #slade wilson #ra’s al ghul #talia al ghul #dc fandom #dc universe #creative writing #league of assassins #damian x raven #dum spiro spero

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

Text

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield, Rosie Holland x Linus Perry

-Warnings: References to sex, language, typos, sad thoughts, attempted suicide, vomiting

-Words: 4.4K

A/n: Thank you so mucg guys with all the live support. Finally done, yay, with part 1

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Words: 4.4K

Four years had passed and Rosie was the only one to stick around. Everything had changed. You and Tom were currently on your trip around the world. Traveling everywhere from Cuba to Greece. Taking in sights of the world.

Embarking on journey covering 3 continents and 10 countries so far. You had already visited the Taj Mahal in India, the Amalfi Coast for some sun, and Iceland just for the blue lagoon hot springs. You and Tom were having the time of your lives, it being the perfect distraction from everything back home.

Rosie was running the mob along with her new right hand and consigliere, Linus. Rosie had been taking on the mantle as the new leader of the Holland mob. Picking up where Parker left off. Trying to do him justice. Tom had helped her learn the ropes but she always had that fiery personality desired for a mob persona.

After four years, Rosie learned to embrace her grief instead of shoving it away, she began to visit Parker’s grave more and more. Tried to every week, but life got in the way. She would bring a new set of flowers to freshen up the old ones.

She knew today would be especially hard, every year it was impossible. Rosie could barely get through the day. Today was her 20th birthday, marking 4 years of celebrating without Parker.

Rosie and Henry’s relationship had grown into one full of misery. Trapped in a loveless relationship, but he was still her best friend. With just one look he would know what she was thinking.

Over the past couple years, Henry has been so obsessed with keeping her safe that it was driving her mad. Rosie understood that Henry didn’t want to lose her like he lost Parker, but Rosie ran a mob and danger followed her everywhere. They started drifting apart when everything happened with the Holland family, creating unfixable cracks in their foundation.

Lately, Rosie had been feeling someone watching her every move. Following her whenever she would be downtown. Feeling a presence she hasn’t felt in a while. Constantly shivering in fear, feeling as though she was observed. From then on, every move she made was calculated and thought out.

When Rosie first took on the mantle, she cleaned house. Eliminating those whose loyalty would always lie with Tom. Trying to affirm the fact that she was so much more than just Tom’s daughter. She had let William go and few others because she brought in Linus.

Even after starting her new regime, things have been a bit off, lately. She hasn’t been sleeping through the night. She’d jolt out of sleep, drenched in a cold sweat. Henry would be startled awake as well by her movement as move to comfort her.

“Roo, you okay?” Henry asked groggily, yawning a bit. Rosie gasping to catch her breath. Her dreams were supposed to be an escape but now they were doing more harm than good. “I don’t know. I keep having these dreams about Parker. Like he was trying to tell me something,” Rosie said, gathering her bearings. It wasn’t everyday she was visited by her deceased twin brother. “From beyond the grave?…Rosie, he’s gone,” Henry pondered. “I know, I just can’t shake this feeling. That he is… he’s.”

“What? Still alive? Honey, we buried him. You cried over him. If he was still alive don’t you think we would’ve shown his face by now. Wilson and Carter are gone, they have been for awhile now,” Henry explained, hoping it would bring her some solace. Henry wasn’t blind to the change in her demeanor, she did open up to him about being followed everywhere she went. “I guess you’re right. But my dreams feel so real,” Rosie whispered, lying back down. Ready to drift off into a deep sleep. One not tainted by the memory of Parker. “Go, back to sleep baby.” Henry said, he knew they would be getting up in a few hours anyway. Tomorrow was a very big day. Henry knew he and Rosie had been drifting but he was all set to give her the best birthday ever.

Henry had bought tickets for you and Tom to fly in for her birthday and stay for awhile. This time of year was hard for all of you but it wasn’t fair to Rosie. The day that is supposed to be about her has always been shared but now no one dared acknowledge it. It was just a reminder of what had been lost.

“Good morning, beautiful. Happy birthday,” Henry whispered, peppering her face in kisses as the morning sun shone through the curtains.

“Thank you,” Rosie sighed. Every year was a challenge. It got a little better every year but she knew she would never fully accept his absence.

“What do you have planned today?” Henry inquired, he was always one for big gestures. He absolutely hated that she no longer enjoyed her birthday.

As a kid she loved the idea of turning a year older, getting to grow up and getting loads of presents of course. You always made the priority of throwing the most perfect themed parties for Rosie and Parker. One year they had a pirate themed pool party with a treasure hunt and another a circus/carnival theme with fair games and a petting zoo. You loved going all out for their birthday. Just spoiling them in general.

Rosie and Parker, also Tom, can’t forget about him, made life worth living. You and Tom did everything for your kids, never wanting them to feel an ounce of sadness.

But the times had changed, you were no longer the mother to a son. It was just Rosie and you thanked God everyday that she was still there but your heart will forever be scarred.

Scars take forever to heal, sometimes never. There will never be a day when you don’t miss Parker or he doesn’t cross your mind. Everything you did from the moment he died was for him, in one way or another. You knew the grief would never stop but you hoped Rosie would one day be able to move on with life.

“You know…” Rosie murmured. “Oh yeah, say hi for me,” Henry nodded along remembering Rosie was going to spend the day next to her better half, Parker.

Rosie proceeded to get dressed and ready for the day. She wore a tight grey dress showing off the perfect curves of her body. And a pair of black high heels to complete her power woman ensemble. “Henry, you aren’t throwing me a party right? I really don’t want one,” Rosie inquired. Rosie would prefer to have all birthdays pass and wash away but she knew Henry wouldn’t allow that. At the most she would have a nice dinner with him and watch a movie.

“You’ll just wait to find out,” Henry grinned cheekily. In reality he was throwing her surprise party to help her find the joy in her birthday again.

“Henry seriously, not this year,” Rosie announced. “It’s never any year. You haven’t celebrated in 3 years. You need to get over this.”

“Get over what? The death of my twin brother?” Rosie asked, astounded at Henry’s previous statement. The nerve he had, wow.

“Roo, I’m sorry,” Henry tried to apologize but Rosie left in a huff.

“Talk later, Linus is waiting for me,” Rosie yelled, already walking out of the room. “Linus, you ready to go?” Rosie said, as she found him drinking coffee in her kitchen. He sat at the bar, legs dangling off the chair as she came down. “Yes, Roo,” he said, a little out of breath from taking the awe of her beauty.

“Please don’t call me that around Henry… What’s on the agenda?” Rosie asked Linus as she poured herself her own cup of coffee.

“Well, Shaw owes you 3 million and the deadline you gave him expired,” Linus explained, he knew Rosie hated having things held over her head. She would prefer to get them out of the way as soon as possible.

“Well then, let’s go pay him a visit. I could use a drink. Afterwards, can you drop me off at the cemetery?” “Of course, Roo,” Linus said. Rosie huffed in response, rolling her eyes at the name. Linus loved to get a rise out of Rosie. Her remarks to his comments were just a sign of their playful banter.Rosie’s relationship with Linus was complicated. They were partners, most of the time.

Rosie had gone really dark over the past years. There were days where she refused to get out of bed. Sitting in bed wasting the entire day away. Henry would come home from work and try his best to comfort her but after Parker he was just as lost as her. They lived in the same house but not truly together. Not as lovers, maybe as roommates.

All Rosie could feel were thoughts of hopelessness, desolation, and misery. Never being able to find that light at the end of the tunnel. She didn’t deserve to find it, thinking she was the one who pushed you and Tom away. Blaming herself for Parker. All these feelings and Henry wasn’t there, too busy with his own life.

One day, Rosie had gotten real low. Couldn’t find a way out so she went to the gun room grabbed the closest pistol, a bottle of scotch, a glass and sat in Tom’s office. She rested on Tom’s chair trying to find the will to end it all. To point the pistol and pull the trigger.

It would be so easy, the flick of a finger. No more pain. She tried not to think about everything she was giving up. Never seeing you or Tom again, or Henry. Never loving him again, if they ever did manage to find their way back to each others arms. Never experiencing the things that made life worth living.

All her thoughts were halted as Linus barged in. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the broken girl hold a gun unto her temple, its safety clicked off. The room was cold as an icy chill ran down his spine.

“Rosie, what are you doing!?!” Linus thundered, trying to stop her before she pulled the trigger. “I don’t know. I think I’m trying to end it all,” Rosie whispered as tears streamed down her face. Deep down she didn’t want to pull the trigger, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“End what all? Your life?” Linus asked, trying to talk her off the metaphorical ledge. Something had to happen that pushed her to this point. Rosie had to be drowning and calling out for help but no one came. “No, it was never about killing myself. It was just about ending the pain and suffering,” she cried.

“Rosie, listen to me. There is so much more you have to live for. This will pass. Think about everything you are giving up.” Linus tried to appeal to the people she loved, you, Tom, and Henry. Losing Rosie would no longer make you a mother. How could Rosie take that away from you?

“I already have and it hasn’t, for 2 years. How do you know it will get any better?” Rosie begged for a true answer. She had been slumping around, letting the days pass her by as she stood silent, screaming non-vocally for help. Trapped in an asylum of misery. “I don’t. But I’ll be there to help you,” Linus exclaimed, giving her the truthful response she wanted. Rosie just needed to hear that she wasn’t alone in this world anymore. “No, you won’t. You’ll just leave like everyone else. Henry doesn’t love me anymore. My parents left. I’m all alone.” “Roo, you aren’t alone. Just hand me the gun and we can work this out. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here,” Linus pleaded. That was the first time he had used that nickname. The name had been reserved for only Henry, Parker and you. In that moment Rosie saw someone she missed so dearly in Linus, Parker. Parker was the only person who was 100% there for her. He was there to talk her off the ledge. He was there at her weakest and in a split second he was standing in front of her.

Rosie gave in, removing the gun from her temple, clicking the safety one and handing it over. She slowly stood up, coming over to Linus and collapsed in his arms. Rosie whispered a small “I missed you” as he held the broken girl. He was the only one who could pull her out. Not Henry, god she wished it was Henry. Linus understood her pain and didn’t try to fix everything.

Henry was the opposite. Constantly worrying about Rosie and trying to find a solution for everything. Things from the slightest backache to feelings of hopelessness. Rosie didn’t need fixing she just needed to be heard and Linus made sure she was. At Harmon’s, the bar was quite empty. Just Shaw and a few of his men. Shaw has borrowed money from Rosie to clear of a few charges. The Holland name had some pull in the legal community. Dating back to Dom’s days but Tom mostly laid down roots.

Linus entered first, firing two shots to take out Shaw’s capos. “Jesus Christ,” yelled Shaw as his protection thudded against the floor.

Rosie followed Linus in, making her presence known, “Shaw, you know I’m not a fan of people not staying true to their word. Do you have my money?”

“Rosie, doll. I paid you in full already. If this just your sad attempt to stir something up we can work this out another time. Shoo, let me finish my drink,” Shaw snickered. “Shaw, I know your games. You have 3 minutes to transfer my money right now. One for each million. I have Linus checking for a deposit of 3 million, make this simple and do it,” Rosie stated with an unchanging expression. “I need more time, that’s not enough. It’s all in separate accounts,” Shaw asserted, his voice starting to waver as he stared down the barrel of her pistol. “Well then, I’d hurry if I were you. Here’s your phone. Just wire the money… Starting now,” Rosie exclaimed as Linus devoted his stare to watch. Glancing at the seconds tick away.

“Fine, I’m going,” Shaw screamed, about to crack under the pressure.

“2 minutes left,” Linus chimed in. “Okay, I’m just inputing the dollar amount, it’s a lot of zeros.” Shaw tried to explain. He was about to lose his life because he was slow.

“50 secs.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6—“

“I’m done,” Shaw said, letting out the breath he was holding.

“That was fast but not fast enough,” Rosie whispered raising her gun square to the back of his head. Her finger slipped to the trigger and fired a shot.

BANG

“Wow, I didn’t think you actually kill him,” Linus said, impressed by her ruthlessness.

“He was getting on my nerves, besides he will never borrow money from me again if he is dead,” Rosie chuckled. “You know I found that really hot,” Linus whispered in her ear. “You always do.” Rosie grinned at his advances, trying to pull her close to his chest. “Hey, this can’t keep happening.”

“Oh, come on. You say that every time. I can’t hide my feelings for you anymore.”

“Well, you are going to have to. I was clear about what this was. So I’m going to ask you this once more time, what do you want?” “I want you.” “Well you can have me in the bathroom in 2 minutes.” “Roo, you’re too good to me,” Linus smirked, following her as she glided to the restroom.

Everything lasted about 30 mins. They were in and out in a flash. The bar now smelled of sex and a dead bodies. Linus was the first to finish, coming out of the bathroom looking disheveled as hell. Sporting the same juts had a quickie look. Linus went to pull the car around after fixing his hair in the mirror.

Linus would never be Henry and that was a good thing, Linus was different. By no circumstances was Rosie in love with Linus or will ever be in love with him, he was merely a distraction. Rosie knew her relationship with him was wrong but he made her feel alive once more.

Rosie emerged from bathroom breathing heavy, almost gasping for air, with sweat glistening on her chest. She straightened out her dress as combed down her hair. Stepping out of the doorway, the smell of a fresh rotting body hit her.

Rosie immediately turned around and lunged for the toilet. She had been in the business for 3 years and never before had her body reacted this way. She hurled into the toilet for a good ten minutes. Eventually bringing her head out of the toilet bowl to wipe off her mouth. The air was now coupled with sex, dead bodies and vomit. She was clueless to what forced her to keep her head in a toilet bowl.

After her nausea spell passed her, she had Linus drop her off near the cemetery. “Oh, you can drop me off here. I need something from the pharmacy anyways,”Rosie informed Linus. She was planning on picking up something for her stomach, it was very unlikely for her to throw up suddenly.

“Ok, Roo. Do you need a ride home?” Linus questioned.

“No, Jared is supposed to pick me up. Thank you,” Rosie exclaimed, getting out of the car. “Alright. Happy birthday by the way. Can I have a kiss goodbye?” “Thank you and no. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah for the party,” Linus called out slowly driving away. “Wait! What did you say?” Rosie remarked but he was already long gone.

Rosie was mentally kicking herself, she didn’t have the willpower to deal with a party tonight. She specifically told Henry, not to throw one but since when did he listen to her.

Their road to ultimately heartbreak was a two way street. Both of them had done something to warrant the loveless relationship. Rosie admitted to herself, that she eventually did stop trying. She stopped constantly asking if Henry wanted to go out for dinner and what time he would be home. Rosie prefers to blame Henry but in reality, she was then one who let go first.

Rosie stopped showing him love, too distraught by his every move because it was a constant reminder her brother wasn’t there anymore. Henry would try to work him into every little conversation, remembering Parker in everything. It grew too much for Rosie. Rosie had never been one for confronting her feelings, preferring to shove them down but how could she, when Henry would never shut up about Parker.

Parker was the main reason a wedge had been driven between them, but she wouldn’t dream of blaming her dead brother. Who couldn’t even defend himself. Rosie needed a reset after Parker but Henry was stuck living in the past.

Rosie was ready to start her life with Henry after graduation but he couldn’t let go. After a while, Rosie became just like him. Stuck drifting into a void of pure sadness. Rosie couldn’t let go, along with Henry. Their lives went in different directions, Rosie was blossoming into a ruthless leader who would only act soft around Parker, vowing to visit his grave everyday. And Henry got left behind at some point, not seeing how he fit in her life anymore.

In the pharmacy she scanned the aisles for some sort of quick remedy. If Henry was throwing her a surprise party, one she specifically asked not for. Rosie didn’t have days to recuperate, maybe a few hours.

She found the largest bottle of Pepto-Bismol and stopped by the card aisle. Carefully grasping a birthday card for her favorite person. One that was funny yet endearing. Parker was addicted to all the corned jokes she would crack. She made her way to the register. In front of her stood a little old woman, she wore a purple floral dress and her white stained hair was pulled into a clip.

“Just this for you sweetie? Oh, who’s birthday is it?” Asked the little lady, referring to the birthday card Rosie grabbed for Parker.

“My brother’s and um, could I also get this,” Rosie responded as her eyes glanced below her. Skimming over the candy bars, gum packets and eventually landing on a pregnancy test. Come to think of it, Rosie was late about a week and a half.

“Of course, honey. Would you like to use the restroom?” Queried the lady. Rosie nodded in response. She finished paying and quickly made her way to the restroom. Following the directions on the box carefully, she needed to be a hundred percent sure, before she told anyone.

Right around the corner was the cemetery. She glided through iron gates, walking across the cobble stone path before she came upon the place she loved most in the world. The place where she would hold nothing back, spilling everything to him.

Life of a mob boss was dangerous but things started to seem eerie for Rosie. She would feel weird presences or someone watching her at eerie times. The same feeling plagued her at the cemetery, today. She knelt down to the headstone, engraved in it read “Here Lies Parker Jackson Holland, Taken from us too soon, a son, a brother, and a friend.”

“Hey, P. You probably get tired of me visiting you. Everyday I’m here and sometimes I think I do it for my benefit more than yours. I hope that wherever you are, you are happy and most likely you are with Charlotte. I’m happy for you, Parker. No matter how much I wish you were here with me, I know that you are happy that you escaped this life. Happy 20th birthday.” Rosie whispered, fixing the flowers that began to wilt from yesterday.

“I have some really amazing news to share with you, but it will have to wait till next time. You can’t be the first person I tell, I’m sorry. He deserves to know before you…. Oh my god, you’ll never believe what happened at work…”

This is the one thing that brought Rosie solace. She persistently blames herself for that fateful night 3 years ago. Rosie would spend hours kneeling next to his headstone. She would tell him about her life and read off the postcards you and Tom sent from your travels. Talking to him as if he was still there.

Rosie glanced at her watch, it was half past five and she hadn’t even called Jared yet to pick her up. “I’m sorry P, I gotta go. Henry, god love him but, that bastard is throwing me a birthday party. I guess I should at least make an appearance. I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you.” Rosie said, walking towards the parking lot.

She stood under the gate for ten minutes waiting for Jared to arrive and escort her home. The weather completely shifted as the sun set around her. The once blue sky changed to one painted with vibrant yellows and pinks. The sky was a sight not to be missed but she could do without the freezing winds that accompanied.

A chill ran down her spine as she waited in the darkness. Feeling a sensation that only warranted panic. Rosie felt someone watching her once again. Maybe from a far or up close, but she definitely wasn’t alone. It was silly that she let feelings like those get to her. She was a mob boss for god sakes, scaring even the most menacing of men into submission.

Rosie eyes started darting everywhere a noise left. In the corner of her eye she caught a figure drenched in shadows approaching. She tried to scramble for her gun, but soon realized she left it in Linus’s car.

The stranger kept making advances and managed to get to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a cloth to her mouth. Causing her to be consumed in darkness as her body grew limp.

Back at the manor, Henry was setting everything up perfectly. His mission was to make Rosie love her birthday once more. While Henry was working hard at hanging the birthday banner and decorating every corner with balloons, Linus was no help at all. Lounging on the couch and finishing a beer.

“So are you going to pick up Rosie and get off your ass?” Henry barked, pulling the coffee out from under Linus, causing him to spill his beer.

“Seriously, dude. What’s your problem?” Linus snapped.

“My problem is my girlfriend isn’t here. Aren’t you supposed to pick her up?” “No, Jared is.” “Linus, Jared is here. He has been for a few hours. Where is she?” Henry questioned, starting to worry. “I don’t know. Last, I left her at the cemetery.” “Henry! It’s so good to see you,” you cheered as Tom and you walked in. Hugging Henry after not seeing him for awhile. It still pained you to visit, traveling was the perfect distraction.

“Hope you have been taking care of yourself, son. Where’s Rosie?” Tom questioned. “Yeah, I’ve been good. At the moment, I don’t know where she is. She’s missing,” Henry concluded. You and Tom stood completely still as you processed the news. It wasn’t everyday that your daughter would disappear into thin air, but her job did keep her life in danger.Rosie missing was uncommon. It had happened once or twice in the past but that was 3 years ago. So much had changed, for the better. Yet, you were once again in the same place, in the house you left because everything was too familiar. Rosie missing was all too familiar.

Rosie came to. Opening her eyes to a place she chose to forget. For all she knew it was an exact replica. Warehouses riddled all of London’s ports, she could be anywhere.

“Text your driver and tell him Henry picked you up for a special birthday dinner,” Rosie’s kidnapper barked, thrusting a phone in front of her.

“Really? You kidnapped me? After 3 years of being leader of London’s most feared mob, it’s like been there done that. Do you want money or something? I have a party to get to.” Rosie quipped, annoyed with they man’s pursuits.

“Oh, I know. I believe happy birthday is granted. 20 years is a milestone.”

“Whatever, I don’t really like my birthday anyway.”

“Wanna talk about it?” The stranger pestered on. Rosie had learned lesson from the last time she was restrained to chair, rope around her wrists and ankles, ceasing blood flow. This time it was zip ties, a little basic for any mobster she has had a run with.

“No. I want you to let me go. Seriously, what do you want? I don’t think you know who I am. Or who my father is,” Rosie asserted.

“A moment alone together is all I ask and I know exactly who you are and who your dad is. Correction, who our dad is.”

“Parker.”

A/n: Finally the end. Alright, I'm going to bed. There is no set schedule for the sequel series, I'm just going to post a chapter when I finish writing it. Let me know if you like to be tagged in the sequel chapters.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy @quaksonhehe @housepartyprotocol

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom #mob!tom #mob tom #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x mob!reader #tom holland fan fiction smut #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland masterlist #mob!tom x reader #dad!mob!tom holland

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paellaplease · 3 years

Note

revali x reader 16 (i think?) verklempt please ❤️

16. verklempt - completely and utterly overcome with emotion

19. temerate - to break a bond or promise

pairing: revali x reader summary: falling in love is difficult when neither of you know the end is near.

Night had fallen by the time you mustered the courage to walk up to him. He watched the shining caps of your barely worn boots approach the other side of the campfire, sensing your nervousness as you awkwardly stood for a few beats, weaving and unweaving your fingers.

Either his reputation as the strongest Champion preceded him, or he was completely unapproachable. Throughout the day you would chance a look at him from across the camp, quickly averting your eyes the moment he noticed. You were part of the Princess’ research effort and therefore had some questions— that much he was certain of. Yet you’ve been dancing around him for hours, gathering the will to speak only to have it snuffed out the moment he acknowledged your presence.

Embers lifted from the flames and flickered into the night sky as you finally faced him. Revali held his tongue and gathered his patience, trying to hide the glitter in his eyes at the chance of ‘wowing’ another admirer (nevermind that you were the first).

“Champion, uh sir,” you fumbled with the titles. The question fell from your lips so quickly that his disappointment didn’t register until a second later. “What kind of flower do you favour the most?”

“...”

If the following silence wasn’t damning enough, the Rito was honestly at a loss for how to respond to such an inane question. Seriously? He was better than this. Others have made more important inquiries and had to wait weeks, if not months, for him to clear time in his busy schedule and reply.

Something like this didn’t deserve attention, let alone an answer.

“Swift violets.” He said, before rising from his seat by the fire, dead leaves crunching under the weight of him as he made a beeline straight for his tent.

Parting the canvas, he pretends to miss the earnest wave of goodbye you send his way, ignoring the static in his chest the moment his head hits the pillow. Sleep comes quickly.

A month later you meet again.

The universe seemed to adore playing tricks on him. Crossing the threshold of his home, he catches you investigating the decorative shells hanging by his kitchen window. Amusingly, you were balancing on the tips of your toes, its placement just a tad too high.

There’s something different this time around. You seemed more at ease with your surroundings, no longer jumping at every sound like a stranger in their own skin. The tips of your boots were scuffed with use, and the minute cuts and imperfections in your clothes spoke of days spent in hard work and travel.

Though some things still remain the same. He holds back his smirk when you stumble forward in surprise at the sound of your name, getting straight to business once you were safe from the risk of falling over. “I believe you’re the researcher sent to assess my progress with Vah Medoh?”

“Yes, I am.” You’re quick to snap back into stiff professionalism, he’ll give you that. The bow is low and formal, your back so still that someone could confidently rest a cup and saucer on it. An introduction spills out, followed by an apology when you realise he already knows who you are from the briefing he was given days earlier in Hyrule Castle.

The task was simple really. King Rhoam Bosphoramus wanted a full report on the breadth of Hyrule’s offensive capabilities against Calamity Ganon. From Guardians to Divine Beasts, much had been done in the past year in preparation for their greatest adversary. Now as the whirlwind began to settle, all must be accounted for, down to the last soldier.

Your report was just a drop in what will be an immense ocean of information currently being collated. But it was nevertheless quite vital. He wonders how someone like you was selected for such a task.

“Let’s do our best.” You blurt. Revali could see the millions of thoughts racing behind your eyes when you decide to break away from your military-stiff posture, raising a hand in the traditional Hyrulean greeting between strangers.

The lines of your palm stretch before him like deeply-woven thread. He glances at the wrinkles and grooves in your flesh, remembering that some mystics believe such lines could predict something as unknown as the future. He can’t help but wonder what yours might foretell.

Pressing his wing to your outstretched hand, he declared his agreement. “Of course. You’ll soon see that my ability to pilot Medoh is nothing short of perfect.”

He can’t help it. “And no questions of the botanical sort, understood?”

The sudden playful grin you give him makes all his witty quips screech to a halt, his focus trained solely on the way your face instantly lights up when it isn't held down by strict politeness or pure nervous energy. “I’ll be sure to steer clear from them this time, Champion. You have my word.”

Both of you eventually fall into a comfortable routine. Meals are made together and the chores are done quickly through combined effort. You catch on well, cottoning on to the needs of the day based on the tasks you both decide on the night before.

After breakfast he finds his gear and yours already neatly arranged by the doorway, allowing him additional time with Vah Medoh and you the chance to closely observe. The idea of training with an audience never bothered him, but knowing you followed close behind, notebook at the ready, gave him the extra push to perform just a level better than his previous.

One more arrow, one more extravagant somersault in the air. He even maneuvers Medoh to do a complete 180, reveling in the way your mouth pops open in awe as you walk across what was once the ceiling.

“... .... --- .-- / --- ..-. ..-.” The ancient machine complains, unhappy to be on their back. The Rito pilot pats the metal wall apologetically, watching as you excitedly flit from one end to the other, feeling quite pleased with himself.

Revali dreams of a cliff’s edge.

The precipice looms before him, nothing but fog and the unknown past the point where the ground stops and plummets. Revali looks at you and feels the smooth rock of the sea stone underneath his talons; hears the sound of crashing waves in the distance. Tantalising was the mystery of the void beyond.

The meaning escapes him the moment he wakes up. His pillow was warmed by the glow of the sun, making him realise that he had slept in. Morning was just beginning, and both of you had a full schedule of tasks to get through.

Diverting all his mental energy to the work ahead, he scrubs the sleep from his eyes and shakes away the odd thrill in his feathers. I’m better than this, he thinks.

His tea is still warm when he arrives at the table.

Word of the researcher shadowing him gets around quickly, it’s a small village after all. Some of the Elders glance at you in suspicion, old wounds from disagreements fought with the capital in the past lingering like dye in the water. You don’t seem to mind it, too caught up in the new sights and smells of this vibrant community built in the clouds.

The Rito children are much more enthusiastic about your presence, sharing in your curiosity by matching your questions with their own. Getting comfortable on the wooden slats of the departure deck, you happily play encyclopedia for them.

“Were you this cute back then?” You ask, watching a fledgling hop from one talon to another in imitation of a lizalfos, chasing after their friends who were the heroes in the story, at least for this round of the game.

“I was a model citizen.”

“Not true!” One of them pipes, poking him in the side with the tiniest of wings. “Mama said you were a hennish scallion.”

“You mean a hellish rapscallion,” the eldest of the bunch laughs, screaming when the ‘lizalfos’ tackles them into the ground.

Crossing your arms, you fix him with your best look of authority, shaking your head in mock disappointment. “I apologise but the council has spoken.” He raises a brow at your antics, feeling a little light headed at the adorable way your eyes water whenever you hold back your laughter. “Do you plead guilty for perjury, Mr Champion?”

Champion. The word echoes and reverberates, wrapping tightly around his brain like the blue scarf fitted snugly on his neck. He likes the way you say it, making him wonder about something else.

The words leave his mouth before he can think it through. “Revali will do just fine.”

Mirth drains from your face, replaced instead by surprise. “W-what?”

“I have a name.” He ignores the feeling of his feathers standing at the back of his neck, unclenching his jaw. Relax, he tells himself. “Better for you to call me that than to continuously mess up the titles.”

“Still working on it,” you shrug. Then, you’re gesturing for him to step into your space, leaning forward just the same like you’re about to tell him a secret. You’re close enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath against his beak. He freezes, becoming hyper aware of his heart thundering against his ribcage, not daring to move even a muscle in fear of giving his thoughts away.

“Revali then,” you murmur, almost too soft for him to hear.

It was only when one of the children tugged at your sleeve, dragging you away to explain the appearance of another monster you’ve encountered in your travels, that he allows himself to breathe.

His presence had been requested at the Chief’s office, the old, war-weary Rito regretfully informing him that an urgent message had arrived. Multiple reports had noted an increase in the signs of Calamity Ganon’s resurgence. It came as no surprise, with every Blood Moon summoning more monsters from the void, an omen that something big was coming.

Letters from the Princess implied the worst: that she had exhausted nearly all avenues in awakening her sealing power. The Spring of Wisdom would be her last chance, and after that, who knows? The Champions were to meet again in three weeks at the foot of the mountain, to celebrate or to re-strategise depending on the outcome.

He was never the religious sort but by the Grace of Hylia, please let it be the former.

A headache was beginning to form as he made his way home, the idea of knocking out on his hammock for an hour or so sounding extremely appealing. The day was coming to a close, a cold breeze chilling his back as the orange heat of the evening crept its way to night.

You’re the first one to the hut this time, brown scuffed boots positioned neatly at the doorway. Revali stares at them for a second too long, wondering if you knew your time in the village was coming to an end earlier than expected. The information you had diligently collected was finally required, a little last minute if he had to comment but such were the nature of these things.

The mental image of you puffing out your cheeks in frustration, complaining that you would have to organise the data on the way back, was enough to make his mood perk up— just a tiny bit. Picturing you disgruntled and annoyed, just like when the markets ran out of your favourite produce, was easier to stomach than the thought of saying goodbye.

Leaning against the hardwood of the kitchen counter, you don’t notice him enter the room, too engrossed in the list you’re making.

It's a sight he'd seen before. If he forgot about the sobering news he'd just received, then the day would feel like any other.

The open window frames your form, making you appear like a painting come to life. Rays of light streamed from the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the slope of your nose and curve of your mouth.

Instinctively, you tilted your head to the source of warmth, instantly reminding him of the swift violets that would bloom by the Hebra cliffsides, forever seeking the sun.

Oh.

The ground had finally run out, earth and sky crashing together. There was no denying it now. Inwardly, he cursed himself, following the thought past the precipice, plunging himself deeper into the truth he'd avoided acknowledging for months. The universe truly was cruel.

It wasn’t like he didn’t see it coming. The answer was clear as day, right from the beginning of its inception.

It's the golden hour before sunset when Revali realises he’s in love with you.

Wind plays with the jade clasps of his braids as he appraises Medoh’s central control unit. He’d done this maneuver many times before, enough that he could perform it with his eyes closed.

It was your final day on assignment so shouldn’t he attempt an action that was more daring? He tried to ask. But you had rejected the proposal outright, reasoning that it suggested this would be the last time you both would meet at the top of the Divine Beast. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you smile. “I’ll visit once the fight is over.”

“Guess there’s no harm in going back to the basics,” he mused, inputting the commands before taking a step back.

Leaning against one of the columns, you watch with rapt attention as he points the Divine Beast south. The view abruptly shifts from the towering mountains of Hebra, to the grassy Tabantha Frontier, greenery spanning for miles and disappearing into the white, snowy wall of Mystathi’s Shelf.

You tilt your head up, eyes trained on the heavens. There’s a solemn intensity in the way you look at the sky, as if trying to ascertain a greater meaning to your existence in this world between the cover of clouds and the endless sea of blue. It never gives you the acknowledgement that you desperately want, no matter how long you spend asking it, but that doesn’t stop you from searching anyway.

He understands because he’s tried asking well, too many times to count. Eventually the young Rito stopped looking, opting to make an answer for himself instead.

“Do you ever get tired of it?”

Revali’s silent for a moment, mulling over his answer, before he pushes away from the control unit and starts walking towards you. “There’s no spectacle grander, and I can’t recall a time I’ve been without it. As a Rito, it was your first companion, and so long as you looked above, you were never alone.” He shook his head. “Though I guess to love something so vast and beyond our comprehension would be rather imbecilic.”

He’s running his mouth at this point, the hum of Vah Medoh loud in his ears. “... .. .-.. .-.. -.-- / -.-. .... .. .-.. -..” the beast warns, but he continues anyway.

“It’s far too foolish to pine for something that will never be in your grasp. So it would be best for me to realise that there’s no point in fighting it anymore. I mean, I should feel relieved by the concession that at least I’ll be remembered by someone other than myself.”

Your attentions were no longer directed at the sky, the intensity of your eyes piercing into him, seeing right through his poorly hidden deflections. “Are we still talking about the same thing?”

The urge to plunge himself over the edge and fly away by the sheer fuel of his embarrassment was beginning to feel very enticing. Trust his description of the sky to sound like a confession. “No,” he admits.

“Then…”

Revali thinks about telling you— considers allowing himself to become vulnerable just this once.

You’re still here, feet planted firmly on the ground, within his reach at this very moment. There was nothing he wanted more than to take that last step forward, to close the gap that perpetually rests in between you both. He imagines what it would feel like to wrap his wings around you, and believes that it would be nothing less than holding infinity.

Yet, despite this— despite everything, he sighs. “Another time.”

Almost like reading his mind, you simply nod in response, smiling as you reach out to him. He lets you take one of his wings in both your hands, the firm surety of your touch grounding him into the present. There’s no hesitation in your next words, only a promise of a thousand tomorrows lingering on the corner of your lips.

“Tell me when we meet again?”

“I swear it on my life.”

As usual, what was supposed to be a short and sweet answer became a creature of its own, demanding my full attention until it was finished. Writing in Revali’s POV is so fun, but there’s always that small bit of doubt that I can never do his character justice. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this one.

By the way! Hello to all the new visitors to my blog. Welcome yall. This is the prompt list. I may not answer straight away, but I shall do my best :)

#revali #botw #revali x reader #breath of the wild #writing prompt #paella writes

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

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A Spark In The Snow

Was gonna go for straight comedy but this wrote itself into fluff. Also it was gonna be a one shot but I decided to leave it open to possibly becoming a multi-parter if I have the time. But I tried to leave in the Azula/Daniela chaotic duo aspect I mentioned.

Summary: Azula is a fire in Alcina’s otherwise cold and desolate world. She brings a certain spark to the castle that is as vexing as it is endearing. Anyways, her daughters are fond of the girl so how bad can it be?

A simmering summer, Alcina decides, is more chaotic than a merciless winter. Fire is wild, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It leaps from one thing to the next, searing away all that which it touches. Winter leaves a frosty kiss but it can be dispelled and warded off. Winter is predictable, summer is strange, feral.

Winters is predictable. Azula is anything but. Winters has a knack for smashing windows--breaking anything with a glass surface, really. Azula sets fire to everything that will burn. Winters does it out of spite and malice. Alcina is convinced that Azula does it for the thrill or attention. She knows that attention is Daniela does it for chaos and companionship.

Alcina pinches the bridge of her nose as another thunderous boom resounds down the expansive hallway. She takes a hard and generous swallow of wine, this particular boom had sounded rather expensive. The shatter of porcelain, perhaps her favorite bathtub.

“What are you guys doing!?” Bela screeches. It is a noble thing that the girl is trying to do. Noble but pointless. Alcina has come to find that Azula and Daniela have become quite an unstoppable duo. A duo with such ferocity that even Winters has stopped coming by.

She isn’t sure where the girl had come from nor what sort of mutation has granted her the ability to wield fire in her hands but she is here and Alcina can’t help but feel a fondness for her. She is a small thing, absolutely teeny--even by comparison to someone who isn’t as tall as she. And mostly she is a charming and poised girl. Elegant and well-mannered. Even tempered, a break from the chaos. A refreshing break.

But with Daniela there comes to the surface something wilder. The girl’s laugh is far less than refined when Daniela points to a large crate and yells, “oh, what about that! Set that on fire!” There comes another loud bang and Alcina flinches. She is almost certain that, that had been a crate of clothing that she has been meaning to look through. She grits her teeth and grips the armrests of her chair. She loves her daughters, loves them more than anything else. But if she hears one more explosion…

.oOo.

Azula chuckles to herself as the flames lap at the wood. Her own mother would never let her get away with such a feat. She scrambles her way up a chair. Castle Dimitrescu is somewhat intimidating in its impressive size. There isn’t a single thing that she doesn’t have to ask one of the Dimitrescu sisters to help her reach.

When they aren’t around she has to quite literally scale counters and furniture. And the bed...she had thought her bed at the palace was large. The one she sleeps in now has room for several of her as well as a mongoose-lizard or two.

And it is no wonder, she hears the thunder of Lady Dimitrescu’s footsteps.

“OhHHh fUcK!” Daniela shouts. Before Azula’s reflexes have a chance to kick in, she snatches her off of the chair she had worked so hard to ascend. “She’ll never catch us.”

“And what if she does?” Azula asks.

“Then we’ll just burst into a cloud of flies and...oh wait you can’t do that.” She slows her pace to tap her chin. “Then we’ll just have to...set MORE things on fire!” She throws her hands up. Azula gives a yelp of surprise as her body is tossed into the air.

She catches herself on a chandelier and pulls herself onto its fixture. It bobs precariously though she can’t imagine that she weighs anywhere near enough to bring it down.

“Whoops.” Daniela winces from below.

Having successfully launched her partner in crime to oblivion, she is left to fend for herself.

“Where is your sister?”

“Which one, mother?”

“The fiery one.”

“Cassandra’s is in her room.”

Alcina inhales deeply. “Azula. Where is Azula.”

“Oh, right, yes. Well you see, she’s really small and so I may or may not have thrown her clear across the castle.” Perhaps her lie would have had more success if she hadn’t offered the chandelier a wink. Alcina reaches up in an attempt to pluck her down. Azula ducks under the woman’s hand but one misplacement of her hand has her tumbling to the ground.

With a most devious grin, Daniela lets out a screech and catapults herself into the air. She practically bodyslams Azula as she catches her and takes off into a full sprint. “Daniela, you get back here!” She hears Alcina groan. “Bela, catch your sister!”

Daniela takes Azula’s arm and positions it out in front of her. “Make fire!”

“Do you think that your mother will finally replace this hideous wallpaper if I just…” she holds the smallest candle wick of a flame to the wall and lets Daniela’s sprint do the rest.

“Our mother won’t have a choice. Oh! Maybe if we set all of...everything on fire we can finally redecorate the house. I was thinking of something more daring like…” she trails off. “Like we can take a whole bunch of man bones and string them up on the balcony like wind chimes. Oh and I saw this neat thing at Karl’s factory. I heard minimalist is in...which is exactly why we need to clutter this place up. I was thinking sofas in the middle of the hallway and lamps hanging form the chandeliers.

“Daniela, that sounds awful. Let’s do it!” Though she is nearly certain that it will end up driving her just as mad as it will drive Lady Dimitrescu.

Daniela comes to an abrupt halt and bursts into a cloud of flies as she collides with Bela who erupts into her own separate cloud. Azula lands with an oof. The fire, a testament to her success and thrill, crackles behind her. Bela reassembles with her hands on either side of her head, “what have you guys done!?”

“We don’t like the decore and wallpaper so we’re remodeling!” Azula declares more boldly than someone who has landed flat on the floor ought to.

Daniela lifts her off of the floor and turns her around to face the fire. “It’s…” she wipes a tear from her eye “...glorious.”

“You guys are the worst.” Cassandra grumbles. “I think that my favorite seat cushion was down this hallway.”

Daniela rolls her eyes. “Who actually bothers to pick out a favorite seat cushion anyways?”

“I do, Dani!”

Azula shrugs. “If it was in this particular hallway that it was an abomination to upholstery.”

“It’s not about the aesthetic! It’s about the feeling it gives your buttcheeks when they sink into it’s plush fabric.” Cassandra explains. “Haven’t you ever sat your ass down on something so fluffy it transported you to a new dimension?”

Azula shakes her head.

“Then how’d you get here?” Daniela asks.

Bela rolls her eyes, “because obviously comfortable seating is how you move from one universe to another.”

“The right level of booty comfort can go a long way.” Daniela insists.

“I hate to say it, but I think Daniela is right, Bela.”

With a fire blazing wildly behind her, Azula sits back and watches the siblings bicker. Such is the pattern that she has fallen into. It is thrilling, fun, and exhilarating. This world, wherever it is, is bizarre and uncanny. Messy and wild, and there is a sense of freedom in the chaos. In becoming part of the chaos. Something liberating that she can’t find in the Fire Nation. Something that compels her to shake away what remains of her overwhelming need for perfection.

.oOo.

Alcina finds that the fire child is much easier to manage when she is sitting upon her shoulder chattering away about the politics of her own realm and how she rather enjoys having three sisters instead of one aggravating brother.

And upon her shoulder, away from Cassandra and Daniela, Azula retains her more soothing, soft spoken demeanor. The one she takes up when looking over books with Bela. This is the topic of discussion today, “I’ve never read anything like this. The history of your world is quite intriguing.”

“I am glad to hear that you are getting comfortable here.” Alcina takes a seat, picks up her kiseru, and has a drag. The smoke trails up and Azula fans it away.

“It would be wonderful if you could get some smaller chairs, climbing these is just about as tiresome as some of my firebending katas are.” She absently kicks her legs at the air, offering Alcina’s chest something of a massage.

“I suppose that I can do that for you.”

“Perfect.” Azula claps her hands together.

For some time they sit in silence and then the girl speaks. “I’m glad that I found you. I don’t...I don’t feel like a monster here.”

Alcina furrows her brows. She has been around many a monster. By all means, she thinks it fair to call herself one. But the girl, this small, delicate thing… “why would you think that?”

“Everyone else does. My own mother…”

Alcina’s heart pangs again. Suddenly she doesn’t feel quite so much like a monster, “a mother who can’t love her child is no mother.” And for a moment she isn’t sure if she is speaking of Azula’s mother or of Mother Miranda. “A mother who makes her child feel insignificant is a monster.” She reaches up to stroke Azula’s hair.

“You don’t think that I’m a monster?”

This girl, this beautiful girl has been made to feel unloved and unlovable.

“Why would I think that, dear?”

She shrugs. “Daniel and I have set everything you love on fire.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You haven’t set yourselves or each other on fire.” She sighs. “I suppose that this castle was due for some renovations anyhow.” This seems to delight the girl.

“My mother had a fit when I set a single, withered rose on fire.”

“Things work differently here, as you are finding.” She rises to her feet. “It has been a while since I’ve had company on my strolls through the courtyard; my girls are unable to tolerate the cold. Would you join me?”

.oOo.

“Firebenders don’t much like the cold...mother.” It sounds strange to say on her tongue, but it feels perfectly correct. The woman’s face seems to fall. “But I’m sure you have something warm for me to wear while we’re out.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll fix you a cup of wine--if I remember correctly you prefer it without blood--and we’ll head out.”

“No blood, that’s correct.”

“Strange girl.” The woman chuckles.

She isn’t sure that she is the strange one here but she keeps it to herself while Alcina sets her back on her shoulder and makes her way into the dining room. Minutes later she finds that Alcina hasn’t any winter clothing that is even remotely her size. Instead, the woman bundles her up in a nest of blankets that very well may be Alcina’s own winter coat.

The outside world is cold on her cheeks. She finds herself pressing her hands against them as Alcina points out her favorite places in the courtyard, her favorite flowers and her favorite statues. Much like all else in this world, Azula has never seen anything quite like it. It is grand and elegant place as cold and grey on the outside as it is warm on the inside. It has many twisting, sharp spires and stone gargoyles to top them. In places it is broken, ancient. Gloomy and depressive in a haunting way that Mai would appreciate. “Your castle is beautiful, mother.”

“Thank you.” She smiles. “I am pleased to know that you don’t find it off putting.”

.oOo.

Azula burrows further into the blankets.

“Are you getting cold?”

“I’ve been cold.” She replies.

“I suppose that I’ve had my fill of nightair.” She cups her hand over the girl’s head, hoping to provide her with even just a little more heat. “I ought to check up on Daniela.”

Azula nods and leans into her chest, pulling the blankets tighter around herself as she does so. “Thank you.” She mumbles. “For letting me stay here.”

Alcina ought to thank her for staying. She can’t remember the last time that she has had company, human company that she found pleasant. Human company that didn’t find her terrifying and monstrous. She just hopes that the girl will never have to see her in her second form. She shouldn’t like Azula to look upon her with fear and disgust. She thinks that it is an inevitability. Everyone leaves her eventually. Everyone save for her daughters. This girl, she reminds herself, is her daughter. She likes to think that she wouldn’t leave.

“It is no trouble at all. I do hope that you will stay with me for a long time, dear.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Resident Evil #Azula #Alcina Dimitrescu #Lady Dimitrescu #Daniela Dimitrescu #Bela Dimitrescu #Cassandra Dimitrescu #Fanfiction

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otonymous · 3 years

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Prisoner Of Love (Ikesen Kenshin - NSFW)

Description: Can two victims of circumstance find their way to love? Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Spoilers for the first half of Kenshin’s MS. Potential trigger warnings: angst, imprisonment, mild mentions of injuries, self-harm and death, self-loathing, anxiety, possessiveness (it IS Kenshin after all 🤣), slight dub-con elements, profanity, vaginal intercourse, squirting Word Count: ~3100 words (~17 minutes of angst and smut) Author’s Notes: Sending out a super giant thank you to the incredibly kind and gracious @azuchi-princess for commissioning this Kenshin piece from me. I cannot tell you how honoured I am to have been entrusted with writing for your husbando! 🥰💕 It was an absolutely wonderful process working with you, and I’m so glad to have been able to indulge in my need for angst and smut at the same time!

(SPOILER ALERT!) This story takes place shortly after Kenshin has MC (read: YOU!) placed behind bars as his “spoils of war,” but I have taken creative license in altering the events that occur afterwards. Moreover, the perspective shifts between that of the reader’s and Kenshin’s in the hopes of delivering that optimal punch of angst 👊🏼🤣

Please note the warnings listed above — especially the potential triggers — and avoid this read if anything makes you uncomfortable. Otherwise, dear readers, I sincerely hope that you enjoy this piece! 💕

Chapter I (Kenshin’s POV)

Betrayal.

Cutting deeper than the sharpest blade.

Unforgiving like Himetsuru-Ichimonji, severing the red string of fate as quickly as it is drawn from its scabbard.

So why was it that Kenshin still couldn’t bring himself to hate her?

Footsteps echoing along stone walls in the bowels of Kasugayama Castle — the very place where he had her cast behind bars — Kenshin wanders, trapped in a hell from which there was no escape.

For the confines of the mind were impervious to even the God of War’s sharpened steel.

And in between each beat of his thunderous heart, he hears her: gentle tears rolling down that delicate face to fall on packed earth, the ground’s inhospitable chill reaching up through limbs to rob even the final vestiges of warmth from bone. Her every shuddering breath is a weight upon his chest, suffocating until Kenshin clings to the reins of reason holding him back from storming her cell like a madman, animated solely by the fire commanding him to see, to touch…

…to love her.

Hands clenching into tight fists, Kenshin’s knuckles blanch whiter than his already pale skin when he slows to a stop. Round the corner and there she’ll be.

Woman of the Oda. The Devil King’s own.

She, who had lied in the same breath that commiserated with him as they waited for Sasuke’s return. She, whose tears left him dazzled, catching the light of the fire like precious stones even as their salt stung, seeping into his open wounds. She, who had held his hand within her own, caring not about sullying her perfect skin with his tainted blood.

Because tainted is what he is. It is what he deserves.

And yet, he can’t help but see the moonlight in her gaze, shimmering like a spectre every time he closes his eyes. Can’t stop himself from desiring the tender warmth of her smile. Still wonders at her fearless bravado in the face of a man who brought nothing but death and destruction upon friend and foe alike.

Isehime.

No.

No, he will not see her, Kenshin thinks, gaze frosting over as he wills the ice in his veins to freeze a heart he no longer wanted to feel. He walks away, forcing himself to believe that the sound of her sorrow growing faint was nothing more than mice in the walls.

Chapter II (Reader’s POV)

Ethereal moons beckon from scrolls depicting each of the four seasons — resplendent colours discordant against the drab stone walls on which they hang.

Cherry blossoms flutter against gold-foil skies; delicate petals frozen in time as they float across a folding screen.

Even the futon in the corner of your cell seemed fit for a princess at court, much more luxurious than the one in which you had slept at Azuchi.

The Dragon of Echigo had took it upon himself to see that his spoils of war would want for nothing, and yet he would deny you the one thing you truly desired:

The man himself.

Sasuke, Shingen and Yukimura would visit — sometimes together, sometimes in turn — graciously sharing their company for which you were so starved. Your ninja friend swore with as much emotion as he could muster to do anything and everything possible to persuade his lord to release you, or at the very least, agree to see you. Yukimura couldn’t stop shaking his head, the expression on his face indignant to see you treated thus, ‘boar woman’ though you were. As for Lord Shingen, he likened you to a bird in a gilded cage, trying to tempt you with offers of freedom and a ready smile on his face that surely would’ve moved any woman to see it…

…any woman but you, that is.

For in your eyes, there was only ever Kenshin — the man who came to your rescue time and time again without knowing your true identity. Intoxicating like the finest sake, each and every moment spent by his side became a precious embrace of a memory, emblazoned in your mind until it was impossible to forget:

The black cape that flowed from broad shoulders like a powerful wave, trailing behind him that night he saved you from those thugs in Azuchi. The way your feet dragged behind his footsteps, moving slow just to watch him cut swift through tall grass with all the seasoned grace of a dancer. His porcelain skin glowing from within as if lit by the light of his own moon.

And in his eyes…sorrow as unfathomable as the sea was deep, rising like smoke from sapphire and emerald in those rare moments the Dragon of Echigo let down his guard. But alas, no more.

You had broken his trust.

How many nights have you lain awake, seeking out pinprick stars through the sliver of window high above your prison and thinking about how things might have been different? What if you had disclosed your relationship with the Oda at the very start? Would the press of the cold steel of his blade be more of a consolation against your neck than the heartbreak spreading from chest to limb every time you lay down to sleep?

Sleep?

No, that was not forthcoming these days — rest a luxury you couldn’t afford until the moment you could face Kenshin for yourself and tell him that you never meant to hurt him, never meant to lie. That though Nobunaga found you first, you had no ulterior motive in approaching Kenshin other than the fact that you…you…

…simply couldn’t stay away.

No matter what anyone tried to say about him.

For even on the battlefield, every nerve singed as the stench of freshly spilt blood filled your nostrils, you still couldn’t tear your gaze from the one they revered as the God of War. Like an immortal stepping from an unfurling scroll, Kenshin moved with the fluid grace of a master painter wielding his brush, completely at one with his sword as he dispatched his enemies with a precision that terrified and awed all at once.

And when he held you in his arms that night — the same hand which had claimed countless lives bleeding into your own as you clasped it in prayer for Sasuke’s safe return — you had felt no fear; only the wish that time would stretch into eternity so that you might forever have him near.

“Kenshin.”

You say his name once…twice…the syllables rolling off your tongue to echo down the hallway like a ghost, lonely and forgotten in the dungeons of Kasugayama Castle. What was freedom to you when you couldn’t bear to break the shackles chaining you to a god who would never look your way again?

Chapter III (Kenshin’s POV)

“Kenshin.”

Her voice halts him in his tracks, one hand shooting out to rest upon the cool stone wall as Kenshin bolsters himself against the sudden weakness in his knees. When was the last time he heard her speak his name? Had it always sounded so melodic, caressing up the spine to curl gently upon the lobe of his ear?

That she is calling for him at a time when she should’ve been fast asleep is a source of elation and anxiety all at once, She is thinking of me tempered by the dread in knowing that she wasn’t getting the rest her body needed. And slowly, slowly…the scales start to tip: if she didn’t sleep, she’d become too exhausted to eat. And without eating, she would…

…die.

The nightmare would begin anew. Except this time, it would be her blood on Kenshin’s hands, spilling crimson over the scars left behind by Isehime’s lifeless body.

She’ll slip away from you like the other, the voice in his head chastises, full of malice as darkness begins unfurling from the corners of his mind, tightening the vice in his chest. They come hard and fast, thoughts tangling one over the other like a labyrinth of vines from which there was no escape:

Poison runs through your veins. Loving her would only doom the girl to misfortune and regret.

If she is not yours, could you possibly surrender her to anyone else?

You cannot outrun your curse. All those you hold dear will end up like Isehime: sleeping in the cold earth.

No one must lay eyes on her beauty, witness her elegance, know of the rare flower blooming in the depths of this dungeon.

No one but you.

Fist pulling back, Kenshin releases the full force of his strength in a punch to the wall. Bruised bone and shredded skin send blistering pain to interrupt the cacophony in his head, silence reigning supreme once more until

“Kenshin?”

…she calls for him again, voice coloured with anticipation this time. He hears a shuffle, sees her in his mind’s eye — throwing off the covers of her bedding to press against the bars, straining to peek around the wooden slats that kept her from freedom. Kept her from him.

“Please, Kenshin…is that you?”

He knows not why he does it, body moving before his mind is even aware. Kenshin had managed to make his way to her cell undetected every night since he put her there, standing silent in shadowy corners just to watch her sleep, allowing the rise and fall of her breath to soothe him with the knowledge that she was still very much alive. But now, in a single moment of thoughtlessness, he had thrown it all away.

She gasps to finally see him and even the sound of that is beautiful, resonating clear like the note of an expertly plucked koto. His gaze falls on her tightened grip around the bars, follows the solitary tear gathering starlight as it rolls down her cheek. And when her eyes widen in horror to look upon the state of his injured hand, Kenshin feels it:

A shift deep within, barely perceptible but wholly significant, like ice cracking beneath the surface of a frozen stream.

And the rush of waters that follows drowns the lovers in a flood from which neither was capable of nor willing to escape.

Chapter IV (Reader’s POV)

Perhaps he really was a god, answering every prayer that ever slipped past noiseless lips to materialize before you in that prison. His white kimono is pristine beneath that black cloak, as if emphasizing the sanctity of his being, the unalterable distance between Uesugi Kenshin and a mere mortal such as yourself. But then the rivulets of red run down that swollen hand to tell you otherwise; the revelation bittersweet because maybe now, there was a way for you to be together, complicated though circumstances were.

So you reach for him through the bars and he complies, watching as you lay kisses upon bruised fingers, feeling the familiar sting of your tears as they seep into wounded flesh and broken hearts — full of sorrow, full of joy…and impossible to stop.

“Push me away.”

His voice is soft for the hard edges of his words. Head lifting, you meet those striking eyes, focused and still. Yet, you felt the storm brewing in those blue and green depths, turmoil barely concealed beneath the ice of his gaze. And there, standing before the man whose very blood stained your lips, you refuse.

Lightning flashes in those eyes and suddenly, his fingers are curling tight about the sleeve of your kimono, Kenshin pulling you close through the bars in one swift motion until the stilted rhythm of his breath is dancing hot over your skin.

“Say it. Say you hate me, that you want absolutely nothing to do with me. Do it now or else—”

“No. Never. How could I ever bring myself to hate the one I love—”

The grimace on his handsome face cuts you off, the great Dragon of Echigo trembling at the very word, love, like it was dirty, taboo. And as the final threads of control slip from his grasp, Kenshin is moving once more without thought — his body a slave to the dictates of the heart. Yanking on the ring of keys hanging from his tapered waist, Kenshin throws open the door to your cell and in an instant, he is by your side.

“Fine. Then I’ll make you hate me.”

His whisper is a promise.

The keys clatter as they’re thrown to the ground, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears, deafening with every pounding beat of your heart to feel his lips on yours for the very first time. The insistent tongue pushing into your mouth carries a hint of sake, the fervour of his kiss leaving you intoxicated and desperate for more.

Long fingers thread through the silk of your hair, Kenshin’s grip gentle yet firm as he angles your head to deepen the kiss, bringing you closer and closer until the end of his exhalation marked the beginning of your next breath. And hadn’t it always been this way, you forever chasing after the mystery that was this beautifully broken man? The intensity of his want is a spell that bewitches, inexorably pulling you into the crucible of his desire, passion matching yours flame for burning flame until all else was extinguished.

Good and bad, right or wrong.

Words insignificant like ash in the face of this all-consuming love.

“Hate me,” Kenshin begs, teeth sinking into your lower lip until the taste of your blood mixed with his. “Please…or else I’ll never give you up.”

Open-mouthed kisses now trailing wet along the column of your neck, your fingers find purchase in his golden hair, pulling hard as you yield to the sensation of his breath moving lower and lower still. Kenshin groans, the sound resonating from deep within his chest to send a rush of heat that dampens the sacred space between your legs.

Body ready and heart set, your mind had been made up long ago. So you grasp onto those shoulders — broad and strong — to pull Kenshin up before you. And in the silent space between the beating of twin hearts, you say with a conviction so strong there could be no doubt,

“I am yours.”

The sound that catches in his throat is guttural, almost feral as those eyes of emerald and sapphire train on you with the intensity of a thousand suns. A sea of emotions flit across that handsome face, subtly shifting until one finally wins out:

Need.

You barely feel it though it must’ve taken considerable force to tear your obi off, the sumptuous kimono he gifted you with slipping from your shoulders as the God of War sets you upon the futon fit for a princess. Elegant even in haste, Kenshin disrobes with the grace of snow falling on frost-covered pine, revealing porcelain skin stretched over perfectly sculpted muscle that beckons to your every nerve.

And before the dungeon’s chill could rattle your bones, he gathers you into the heat of his embrace. Skin to skin, the arms wrapped around you tremble when he whispers, “I’ve wanted you so desperately, I-I don’t think I can hold back.”

Head falling back onto your pillow, you will Kenshin to see the sincerity, the surrender in the darkened gaze that reflects his very image.

“Then give me everything. I want…all that you are.”

It tears a breathless gasp from your lips, mouth drawn open in a silent scream when Kenshin fills you to the hilt with a single thrust — the thick, hard heat of his cock testing the limits of your body with its size. Equally skilled in bed as he was on the battlefield, the God of War is a force to be reckoned with, the swing of his hips graceful even as they connect with yours, ruthless in speed and intensity.

He moves within your body like he belongs, pulling out only to dive even deeper into slick depths until pleasure bloomed pink along your skin, the hardened tips of your breasts so enticing Kenshin couldn’t help but take them into his mouth in greedy turn as he continued thrusting, harder and faster until your legs began to shake.

“Oh god, Kenshin! You feel…so…good...ahh!—”

Pants and screams echo down darkened corridors, the sound of your pleasure in being taken this way resonating in the corners of every prison cell until you think to bite onto the sleeve of your kimono. But Kenshin just shakes his head, the sweat of exertion glistening on his body as his fingers move towards your mouth.

“No, I want…hmm…to hear you. Every sound you make is…precious to me. Let it out.”

With that, he removes the embroidered fabric, lips pressing to yours to swallow every licentious moan for himself as he props your legs up against his shoulders. All of a sudden, like pieces of a puzzle sliding into place, the motion awakens sensations you never before knew existed.

Unable to scream with your lover’s tongue in your mouth, your body responds in the only other way it knew how: convulsing beneath Kenshin until he is forced to pull out, allowing a flood of your arousal to cascade past swollen lips, spilling down the insides of your thighs in a lewd display that wets the bedding beneath your entwined bodies. And yet,

“More. Please, Kenshin…I want more…”

…you were insatiable.

The sight, sound and smell of you so undone ignites a fire inside the warlord, his mind scrambled by lust. And when he slides into you once more, he fucks with absolute abandon, yearning for complete union even as he leaves you breathless to finally spill into your depths.

* * *

You awake to moonlight glowing soft beyond shoji screens and the rhythm of a heartbeat, measured and slow beneath your ear. The robe you wore was fresh and soft; vague recollections of Kenshin gently caressing your fatigued body with a washcloth filtering in and out of your thoughts. At some point, he must’ve carried you to his chambers, sleeping now as you were upon his chest.

Lifting your head, you gaze at your lover in repose. It fills you with affection to see him — heart tightening to bind you to this man. And as his muscular arm winds about your waist, you knew you would forever be a willing prisoner to his love.

Thank you so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikesen kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin #uesugi kenshin #ikesen kenshin smut #ikesen smut #my writing #commission #azuchi-princess #thank you again my dear!#you are lovely to work with

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

Text

So @primrosesjemma asked me what I thought of a Kathony Marvel AU and

Now this exists!

✨Midgard ✨

The Anthony and Kate Thor AU that no one asked for!

It's also on Ao3!

✨✨✨✨

“Mother, Please!” Anthony’s voice had broken through the clamour of court, pleading with her up on the dais. His mother’s eyes looking sadly down at him, her mouth a tight line, his siblings avoiding eye contact, regret etched on Colin’s face as their mother spoke.

“I’ve tried to teach you, Anthony. And I’m sorry that I’ve failed you, but something has to work.” Her voice had been grave as the hammer was snatched from him, her voice whispering “Whosoever holds this hammer, if they be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.” Her arm shot out the hammer flying away from the throne room, spinning through space.

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” And then Danbury’s staff tapped against the floor sharply, and Anthony was surrounded by colour, falling through space, panic gripping him, and everything went dark as he crumpled to the ground.

___________________

“Why do we have to be out here so late?” Edwina’s voice groaned beside Kate, from her position in the backseat, her legs hanging from the window. “The beach look exactly the same at night as they do during the day.”

Kate sighed, her paintbrush moving over the canvas in broad strokes. “You know that’s not true.” Edwina rolled her eyes again, returning to her book. “And I never asked you to come with me, you piled in the car before I could stop you.” Her voice dry.

“Someone has to make sure you have some fun!” Edwina tutted, her book hitting Kate on the back of the head.

“You know, Eddie some of us actually enjoy our jobs.” She swatted at her sister. “Not all of us are boring professors.”

“I enjoy my job very much thank you, I’m moulding the minds of tomorrow.” Edwina said primly.

“Oh and how well moulded they must be by you and Indiana Jones Jr.” A smirk rising to Kate’s face as Edwina’s hand swatted at her.

“Matt’s a nice guy! And he’s really sweet. You could stand to meet a nice guy Kate. How long has it been since Jack?” Kate made a noncommittal noise. “That means too long.”

Kate sighed, eyeing the storm rolling in on the horizon, standing from the easel and packing her equipment away.

“Well Edwina, some of us don’t have handsome men fall out the sky for them.” Kate said dryly flicking her sister on the ear. Laughing as her sister’s beautiful face crumpled in a frown, sitting up, pulling her legs from the window.

“Well at least we got to see that.” Edwina said suddenly, her face a little awe-filled as a bright beam of light shot overhead, all the colours on the spectrum woven together lighting up the sky. Kate felt her mouth drop open in surprise, at the sudden beauty of it.

“What do you suppose that was?” Edwina’s voice shook a little. Kate cleared her throat.

“Probably the aliens coming to reclaim you.” Kate said sarcastically, snapping the boot of her car closed. “Come on, Let’s get home.”

Thunderclouds crackled over head, causing anxiety to bubble in Kate’s stomach as rain started to beat down on the roof of her car, the windscreen wipers swiping against the glass, still obscured. Kate shifted her glasses nervously.

“Well this came out of nowhere.” Edwina said quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Kate replied quickly, ignoring her mounting panic.

“You know why.” Kate’s eyes shot to Edwina’s only momentarily, but apparently it was long enough.

There was an odd cry outside the window, a shard shout of “DANBURY PLEASE!” And a man appeared directly infront of the car. Kate swore loudly, spinning the wheel quickly, the tyres sliding across the road, too much water, Kate’s heart pounding as Edwina screamed, and then the back of the car collided with something with a sharp Thud!

Silence engulfed the car, Kate and Edwina breathing heavily.

“Did you… fuck,Kate did you hit him?!” Panic climbing in her voice. “Oh my god, you did. We’re gong to have to tell Mum that we murdered a man. How is she going to face the aunties?!”

Kate took a deep breath, and forced down her own mounting panic. “I didn't hit him! I tapped him. Lightly! And he was in the middle of the road! He nearly killed us! And he might not be dead.”

“Well we’re going to have to check!”

Silence engulfing the car again, as Kate took a deep breath, the thunder crackling overhead again, as she stepped out into the rain, her glasses covered instantly.

“Stay here, Eddie.”

She made her way slowly across the road, the headlights of her car illuminating the man’s form laying in the road, as she rushed forward. The man was tall, she could tell his long legs crumpled beneath him as she knelt over him, her hands reaching to touch his face.

“Sorry, Sir?”

His eyes flew open, brown eyes pinning her in place, his wet hair falling over his brow.

“Where are we?” His voice like rough velvet. Relief washing over her. Her victim was conscious and responsive, at least Mary wouldn’t have to discuss her jail sentence over tea. Though he was blinking very confusedly.

“Burnham?”

A frown settled more throughly on his very handsome face. “Where’s that?”

Nerves settling in her stomach again, “Somerset. Sir, we need to take you to the hospital.”

“Midgard.” He seemed to groan, Kate felt her brow furrow.

“England.” She said slowly. “Sir can you just get in my car so I can make sure you aren’t going to die. My step mum doesn’t really need to see me get arrested.”

He shook his head, looking at her curiously. “Your human medicines won’t work.” He said abruptly, standing pushing his hair back from his face, stretching.

Kate felt confusion grab at the edge of her consciousness. “Right. Well, I’m really going to have to insist.”

“You hit me with this contraption and now you’re concerned?” He questioned.

“You walked out into the road!” Kate said indignantly, taking hold of his arm and attempting to drag him towards the car.

“Madam unhand me!” He said, his eyes wide with surprise.

“No! I don’t know who you think you are, but we are going to the hospital.”

“Anthony. God of thunder.” He said, smiling brightly, disarming Kate as she slipped on the wet tarmac surprised by his statement, his strong rms steadying her. “And you are, human woman?”

Kate’s mouth fell open a little.

“Cleopatra.” She said sarcastically, a little in disbelief. Anthony regarded her carefully.

“Why do I not believe that?”

Kate had opened her mouth to respond when a tap to his shoulder cut her off. He turned politely in the direction, his eyebrows raised.

“Hello, Sir, Anthony, God of Thunder. I-” Edwina started

“Hello!” He responded politely. Edwina looked baffled.

“Hi. I’m Edwina. Sheffield. I’m really sorry we ah… hit you with our car. But if you could just unhand Kate and get in the car so we can make sure you aren’t going to die that would be amazing.” She smiled charmingly.

Anthony looked between them carefully. “Why do I not think I have any say in the matter?”

Edwina smiled again, taking him by the hand and leading him towards the car. “Oh you don’t.”

“If I come with you, will you help me find my Mjolnir?” He said suspiciously, the rain still beating down on them as the three of them got in the car.

Kate looked at Edwina confusedly What the fuck is happening? Edwina shrugged, bemused.

“Sure, Anthony. We’ll help you find your Mjolnir.” Edwina said placatingly, the same voice she used with the neighbour children when they fell over.

“Excellent! Let’s go to this hospital then!”

And as Kate pulled back out onto the road, she couldn’t help but wonder if aliens really had come.

#this is so stupid I don't even #thor! kathony #marvel au #an-thor-ny #midgard #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #edwina sheffield #edwina sharma #kathony fic #bridgerton au

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cassandra-moon · 4 years

Text

You’ve come back

Adara stared up at her ceiling with tears streaming down her face and onto the sheets. Today marked a full year since he left, now where was a different story. She honestly didn’t know, he just went into town and never came out, and when she went to look for him, either nobody knew or they’d refused to tell her anything. If that wasn’t enough, she found out she was pregnant only a month after his disappearance. Now here she was, finally in a place of refuge where she and her baby daughter can rest peacefully, but her life was not complete nor peaceful.

There was always that, feeling in the back of her mind that wouldn’t leave her alone. Every night she’d lay awake, left alone with nothing but the deafening silence and her thoughts and the many questions that plagued her mind. Did I do something for him to leave? Does he still love me? Did he ever love me? Inhaling deeply, Adara rose from her, her long black hair fell to her back, wiping the tears from her tanned face, made sure her baby was secured in the crib, and left. As she walked into the garden, she looked up towards the skies and prayed to the gods, begging them for some sort of sign that her beloved was out there, somewhere, looking for her. As she pried, she couldn’t help but cry because she knew that no matter how much she prayed, deep down in her heart she knew he didn’t care.

Clenching her hands into fists and grinding her teeth she spoke, “I really should hate you. I want to hate you, but I can’t.” She collapsed onto her knees and cried. No matter what, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Memories of the two of them invaded her mind as she tried.

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

Adara sprinted away, her heart pounding in her chest as her bare feet collided with the cold mud of the forest floor, glancing behind her, her assailant gaining speed, a smile plastered on his face. Despite her situation, Adara wasn’t scared, she wanted him to catch her, but she wasn’t going down without a sight. Quickly, she ducked into a bush and slid down the hill, regaining her balance as she sprinted away, “that should put some distance between us.” She felt so alive, so confident that she didn’t even notice the figure jumping from tree to tree just above her head until he jumped down and tackled her to the ground.

Adara screamed in delight as her beloved nibbled on her neck and growled playfully in her ear, his black hair fell like a curtain off the night sky surrounding them. Once they calmed down they looked into each other’s eyes, the world around them began to grow silent and dark until it was only the two of them in the world. “You truly are the most beautiful being on this earth.”, his words sent a shiver up her spine as she stared into his dark brown eyes through her hazel ones. “I love you, Seraphim”, she whispered before her lips locked with his and her legs were around his waist.

****

Adara stood, her knees ached from kneeling, wiping the salty tears from her face once again. She had shed so many tears for that man and she wanted to stop, but she knew that in the end, she would shed more. She often found herself in her fantasies, hoping that she’d be working in the garden, and one day she’d look up and see a man, covered in shadow emerge from the trees and it would be her beloved. His walk would turn to run as he’d surround her entire body in his strong arms and whisper in her ear “I’ll never leave you again”, before making love to her till dawn.

“I need sleep, this is too much for one night.” Just as she had turned, a voice called out to her, “Adara.” She whipped around, eyes darting in every direction in a desperate attempt to find the voice that sounded just like the voice she’d call out to in her dreams. Timidly, she called out in a quivering voice, “who’s there?”

A man emerged from the dark, eyes glowing red and claws sharp, he dropped his bident to show he meant no threat to her and placed his hands in the air. Adara’s heart thundered in her chest so much that she swore he could hear it on the other side of the field. “Wait, I just want to-Hey!” Before he could finish, Adara had made it back to the house and opened the door, she screamed as the tall demon raced over to her. With a burst of adrenaline followed by the sound of her wailing child she slammed the door and locked it, then she grabbed her baby and hid as far away from the door with the raging demon on the side.

An audible sigh came from the other side of the door and one final thud, this time a lot less aggressive. “Adara, please listen to me.” She stopped shaking, “That voice.” She shifted slightly over to the bed and placed her now a quiet baby in her crib before carefully striding over to the door. “I know you must resent me for leaving you that night. I know you feel as though I abandoned you to raise our child, but please know this, since that day, even during this war, I have always loved you, and I’ve never stopped thinking of you. Thinking of the ways we’d spend our days. I missed you so much, Adara.”

Realization struck her. This man. This demon. Was her beloved? Without hesitation, she flung open the door where she came face to… well, chest, with the man she only thought she’d see in her dreams. Looking into his eyes she could see the man behind the monster that stood before her, the man she loved.

“Seraphim?” She hesitantly lifted her hand up to his face and cupped on his cheek, he leaned into her palm and she could feel the tension leave his entire body as he placed his hand on hers and kissed her fingers. She moved her hands further and ran through his silver and gold hair.

She remembered a time where he’d lay on her lap and let her comb his hair with her fingers while she told him how beautiful she thought he was and how much she loved him. “I truly don’t deserve you”, he told her as he fell into a deep slumber on that first floor and she’d follow him soon after. To her those memories were bitter sweet, they reminded her of the times she spent before he left her, and that made her furious. As tears once again built up, she retracted her hand before bringing it back down on Seraphims face hard, forcefully turning his head to the side forcing him to grunt out in pain.

Seraphim lifted his hand to his burning cheek and gazed out in astonishment. He whirled back, fangs bared ready to strike her back until he saw her face. Tears ran down her face and he could tell she was in pain. This was his fault, he’d hurt her in a way no person should ever be hurt.

Cautiously, he wrapped his arm around her body and pulled her into his chest. He knew this would calm her, it always did. Just as he thought, her sobbing quieted and her body stilled, nothing calmed her down more than the sound of his heart beating. “I’m sorry”, he said breaking the silence. “I had no intentions of leaving you for so long, the job was to be done and done quickly so I could return to you, but the Fates had other plans and led to a creature, a giant. It infected my mind, and I had followed it’s orders. And the result of such an ordeal, I have become a monster.”

The time in Seraphims voice said it all, he truly felt awful for what he has become. If he didn’t feel ugly inside and out before, he sure felt like that now and that's something Adara wasn’t going to have. She never settled for her loved ones hating themselves.

Looking into his crimson eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her level. Seraphims breath quickened as she leaned in and captured his lips, it felt heavenly. Urges he thought he’d never feel again began to rise and soon he found himself lifting her up off the ground and walked into the house.

Adara could feel the bulge push into her stomach, she herself could feel her own arousal pooling between her legs. A had found its way under dress and began pushing it over her head revealing everything to the man above her. “You have not changed a bit, you’re still beautiful.” Seraphim ran his clawed fingers up her body until he squeezed one of her plump breasts and played with her nipple. “I thought I’d never get the chance to play with you like this ever again, I promise I will never leave you alone again.”

Adara smiled before moaning out when she felt a pair of fangs graze her stomach and travel lower until he disappeared between her thighs. She could feel the arousal dripping from her core, she attempted to close her legs out of embarrassment only for Seraphim to open them wider than before, “now, how can I enjoy my feast if you keep it from me?” He loved teasing her, every chance he got he’d tease her in some way or another to get a rise out of her, but now I seemed as though he was trying to make up for the year he was gone.

Seraphim began nibbling on her inner thigh, going closer to her heated core and then leaving her in need as he moved away, chuckling at her frustration as she whined for him to come back. Finally he had enough and dove into her core, forcing a moan from her throat as his tongue invaded every area inside her, she had forgotten how he could make her unravel just with his tongue. The pleasure began to build up as he continued until she burst, sending waves of shock throughout her body.

Seraphim rose her thighs with a smirk plastered down his face as he kicked his lips, “I had nearly forgotten how good you teste. Now let’s see if I can remember how good you feel.” He grabbed one of Adaras legs and flipped her over onto her stomach. From over her shoulder, she could see Seraphim remove the cloth from around his waist revealing his large, hard shaft. ‘Did it grow’, she exclaimed in her mind just as he began climbing his way up the bed. “It’s been too long since we did this. Be still, I know it will hurt.”

Slowly he pushed into her, groaning at her tightness. He tried to hold in his moans of pleasure, he really did forget how good she felt. Adara wasn’t doing any better. Sure it hurt, but it felt just as good, hearing him huff and groan, and feeling him twitch within her. “M-move.” Seraphim carefully and cautiously began to pump into her, his pace began slow but strong, making Adara moan in ecstasy. His pace began to quicken, now instead of slow and cautious, he was confident and brutal. His shaft rubbed her right in every way, she could feel herself begin to burst again, until he stopped. She was about to shout her protest until she was grabbed and flipped back over onto her back and he pushed back into her.

Adara practically screamed out in pleasure but was sil nice when a pair of velvety lips pressed onto hers. Seraphim continued his assault on her core, his grunting and groaning only pushed Adara further off the edge until she fell. “Oh gods, Seraphim!!” Her calls and screams delighted the man and made him increase his pace. He was on cloud nine, his mind clouded with pleasure, he wished this moment could last forever, but sadly it couldn’t.

Adara had come at least three times before he finished, his seed spilling into her with a low moan, gods she missed him. He collapsed next to her, breathing heavy. That was another thing he forgot about, how much energy he’d put into fucking her. He looked over to her, she was exhausted. “I’m sorry. I should have never left you. I’m terrible and I know it. But if you’d give me another chance, I promise I’ll make it up to you, as our child’s father and as your husband.”

Adara smiled, “yes.” They embraced each other once again before Seraphim stood from the bed and walked over to the crib where the sleeping baby lay. She looked just like him, before his transition. Black hair, tanned skin, “she’s got your eyes.” Seraphim sighed before doing something he hadn’t done in almost a year. He transformed back into his actual human appearance. “What did you name her?” Adara stood and placed her hand in his back. “Ariana.” Seraphim smiled down at the sleeping baby before picking her up. “Perfect.”

——————

I told y’all

#bood of zeus #seraphim #seraphim x reader #oneshot #smut #blood of Zeus x reader

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calpalirwin · 3 years

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Nicest Asshole You’ll Ever Meet

Request: May I request a Lip Gallagher X Fem!Reader fanfic? Maybe set during season 1 or 2? Y/N is Kevin’s little sister and gets jumped on the south side. She gets badly beat up and barely makes it back home to her brothers house. No ones home so she goes to the Gallagher’s and Lip answers. He patches her up and it’s cute and fluffy. Maybe she falls asleep in his bed and they end up cuddling and then sharing a blunt? (You don’t have to add the blunt if you’re uncomfortable) Thank you love :)

Word Count: 1.3k

And away, and away we go!

You cursed as you stumbled your way down the street. Kevin was gonna have a field day when he saw you. It wasn’t your fault you had broken the single rule he’d given you. You hadn’t started the fight. Why the fuck would you with odds like that? 5 to 1 was hardly fair. And while they had landed their fair share of kicks and punches on you, you held your own. Kevin had said that you couldn’t start any fights, but he never said anything about finishing them.

“Jesus? Get hit by the L? You know you’re supposed to stand behind the yellow line right?” a voice quipped, and you turned to find the eldest Gallagher boy sitting on his front steps, a cigarette dangling between his lips.

“Reckon I’m still better lookin’ than you, Lip.”

The boy scoffed, before dropping the cigarette and snuffing it out with his boot. “C’mon,” he said, rising to his feet and jerking his head toward the house. “I’ll help ya get cleaned up.”

You waved him off, “It’s fine. I’ll ask V for help.”

“She’s not home. Neither is Kev. Alibi.”

“Shit.”

He shrugged. “So, you comin’ or not?”

“Fiona or Ian home?”

“Nah. Work.”

“Debbie? Carl? Liam? Fuck, Frank?”

“Do I look like a fuckin’ nanny? No. I’m the only one here. Why? You afraid of me or something?”

“Pffft, no…”

Lip smirked. “Oh, I get it. Alright. Did Kev tell you to stay away from me? That’s rich… What did he say? Like the reasons?”

“He said you’re too smart for your own good, and that you’ll use those smarts to get into every girl’s pants.”

The boy laughed. “Yeah, he’s probably right. But he’s gonna be mad either way. You might as well be cleaned up when he flips his shit.”

You blew out your next breath in a huff before crossing into the yard, officially in Gallagher territory, and following Lip into the house.

“Just have a seat,” he said, nodding at the couch before jogging up the stairs.

You complied, whatever adrenaline you had finally fading your body, pain taking its place. You wondered briefly if you looked like how Lip had said you did; like you had been hit by a train. You definitely felt like you had.

You turned to the sound of Lip’s boots thundering back down the stairs, a first aid kit in his hands. His crystal blue eyes studied you carefully as he shook soft brown locks of hair out of his way. “You’re bruised pretty badly, but I don’t think any of your cuts need stitches so that’s good. And nothing looks broken. So, what happened?”

“Stupid girls,” you hissed through your teeth as he started dabbing at your face with an alcoholic wipe.

“Hold still. Sooner I’m done, the better.” One of his hands came up to cup your chin to keep you from flinching away, his hold surprisingly gentle. “Stupid girls did this? Like from school?”

“Yes, like from school.”

“Did you get them back?”

“Sort of. 5 to 1 makes it a little hard to do much besides get your ass kicked. But I finished it, if that’s what you’re asking. And they jumped me. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to walk into odds like that.”

“5 to 1? Shit… so this was Leah, and her stupid fuckin’ friends?”

“That would be them.”

“Which means it’s Tyler’s fault. And Kev warned you about me? Damn…”

“Tyler’s a piece of shit who’d flirt with a rock if it’d flirt back.”

“Pretty sure he has.”

You laughed, then winced, clutching your side. “Don’t make me laugh, asshole.”

“Let me see,” he said, his hands falling away from your face.

“What? No! Are you insane?”

“Oh, relax. I’m not even gonna see your bra, much less your tits. Now lift up your shirt or I’ll do it for you.”

“Fine, fine,” you grumbled, pulling up on your shirt, both of you sucking air through your teeth at the sight of a giant splotch of purplish blue.

“Don’t bite my head off, alright?” he asked, his fingers hovering over your exposed skin.

You squinched your eyes shut, breathing harshly. “Do it.”

His fingers grazed across your ribs, again with a gentleness that took you by surprise. “Probably just badly bruised. That, or you have a really high pain tolerance. Or you’re a really good liar.”

“All of the above,” you grinned sarcastically, dropping your shirt.

“Well, not a whole lot for you to do besides rest.”

At the mention of rest, you became aware of just how tired you were. “Yeah. Rest. Sounds good. Thanks, Dr. Lip.”

“Anytime. C’mon, I’ll help you upstairs.”

“Excuse me?”

“What? You need to rest. And I’ve slept on this couch. It’s not exactly comfortable. You can use my bed upstairs.”

“Or I could go next door. To my bed.”

“Where Kev will find you all bloody and bruised? Nah. Plus, it’s too far.”

“Stubborn fuckin’ Gallaghers…”

“Hey, this stubborn fuckin’ Gallagher just played doctor, and offered you his bed.”

“Where he can play more doctor? Pffft, yeah right. I’m fine here.”

Lip’s eyes rolled. “I promise to not sleep with you. There. Now, are you gonna move on your own? Or do I gotta carry you up there myself?”

“Fuckin, Christ…” With his help, you made your way up the stairs and into a room with a single bed pressed against one wall, a bunk bed perpendicular with it against another wall. “It’s not the top bunk, is it?”

“No, it’s that one,” he said, nodding at the singular bed.

“Well, thanks I guess. For everything.”

“You’d be surprised how often I do this,” he tried to joke as you got settled on the bed and he fiddled with something at the desk.

“Play doctor to all the banged up kids in the neighborhood, huh? Wow, way to make a girl feel special.”

He gave a short laugh. “Have Carl as a sibling, and nobody would ever need med school.” He dug into his pocket, pulling out a lighter. He brought whatever it was he’d been fiddling with- a blunt you now realized- to his lips, lighting it and taking a deep hit. “Here,” he breathed, passing it your way.

You took a hit, welcoming the hazy cloud the enveloped you, feeling the bed dip as Lip crawled in beside you. “I thought you weren’t gonna sleep with me,” you pointed out as you handed him back his blunt.

“Do you see me stripping?”

“No…”

“Exactly. I may have offered you my bed, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna sleep on my fuckin’ floor. I’m nice, not a gentleman.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘asshole’ actually.”

“Nicest asshole you’ll ever meet.”

You took turns passing the blunt back and forth, your back pressed against his chest as you crammed together on the small bed. “Fuckin’ bitch,” you cursed Leah and her friends when you took a hit that left you sputtering, the coughs causing your sides to ache.

“I can fuck Tyler up if you want,” Lip offered. “And I can talk to Mandy about helping you with Leah. Like I personally won’t fight girls, so she’s my go to for that shit. Needed her help back when Debbie was getting bullied.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, cuz that’s what I need. More problems.”

“Well at least start walking with us then.”

“Aw, is Lip Gallagher offering to protect sweet little me?” you cooed.

“We look after our own,” he said as easily as if he was telling you the sky was blue. The bed creaked as he reached over you to turn off the lamp on the desk, before he settled behind you again.

You lay there wondering just what your brother had been thinking in telling you to avoid the boy. Sure, he had more charm and smarts than he knew what to do with. And he was a certifiable asshole. But he was a nice- and admittedly very cute- asshole. And you felt safe with Lip’s arm thrown gingerly across your waist, and his slow even breaths lulling you sleep.

Tag List

@thanossexual @markofdean79 @philthepegacorn @youngblood199456 @tarltongrl96 @ineedmorefanfics @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof

#nicest asshole youll ever meet #lip gallagher #lip gallagher fic #lip gallagher x female reader #calpal irwin

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falsegoodnight · 3 years

Text

tangled au snippet

by request from a tumblr anon - hope you see this and enjoy!

Pascal squeaks and Louis freezes, still holding the pan out in front of him protectively while his heart leaps to his throat. Shoulders raised nervously, he waits.

However, his hit must’ve been pretty strong because a minute goes by and the man doesn’t stir. His lips are parted, eyes shut and muscles slack where he lays with his front pressed to the rug Louis’ mother brought back from the Devil’s Market years ago.

Gathering his courage, Louis takes a step forward, raising the pan higher as his heart thunders in his ears.

Monster, his brain is screaming, the urge to flee growing with every beat of his quickened heart. Stomach churning nervously, Louis surveys the demon’s unconscious body, trailing his eyes over tousled dark hair and pale skin on the exposed nape of his neck. The man is wearing a brown jacket, worn with use and torn in several places. On his hand, Louis can see a collection of rings, not unlike the kind his mother brings back from her travels, though the stranger’s are layered with grime.

He continues his observation, cautiously taking another step forward and sucking in a breath when the floorboard creaks underneath his feet. The man remains motionless so Louis tamps down the lump in his throat, feeling unsettled by a number of realizations. The first is that the man looks harmless.

Louis knows that outward appearances hardly constitute one’s true intentions, but Mother always spoke of ghastly beings - of bony hands and flashing eyes and sharp teeth.

Grimacing, he carefully reaches out and nudges the man’s head, stiffening when it lolls back, revealing the side of his face and the line of his jaw. He looks peaceful lying there, almost as if he were asleep. Nothing like a monster, Louis notes suspiciously.

Still, he turns the pan over so the handle is pointing out and uses it to prod at the man’s mouth, stretching his upper lip to reveal two rows of teeth, not a single one of them sporting any semblance of a sharpened tip.

Pascal scampers up beside Louis, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Maybe the fangs only appear when he’s hungry?” Louis guesses, mind flashing to a book he had read once detailing creatures of the night with fanged teeth and a hunger for blood. He shudders. “Okay, he can’t stay here. He’s going to wake up.”

As if on cue, the man shifts against the floor, letting out a grunt. It’s deep and loud and unfamiliar and Louis panics, grip tightening on the pan before he lands another hit on the back of the man’s head.

He slumps forward, limbs falling lax once again, and Louis sighs in relief.

“What do I do with him?” he asks Pascal, lowering his voice to a whisper to avoid any further incidents.

The chameleon flicks his tail out as if to say: How should I know?

Louis glances around the room, searching for something that will give him a clue as to what to do next. Outside, the sky is painted in burnished yellows and pinks, sun fading out into late evening. Mother still isn’t set to come back till the morning, but Louis really doesn’t want to rely on blows from a frying pan and sitting vigil over this potentially-monstrous man until she returns and can take charge. That’s what she’d expect anyway - for him to be helpless and weak in a situation like this.

His eyes land on his closet, painted teal with a plethora of daisies and other flowers and plants from his book. He glances back at the stranger, mentally comparing the heights and sizes to see if the idea forming in his brain is plausible.

With a small nod to himself, he carefully backs away from the man, keeping his eyes on him and the frying pan extended as he moves towards the closet. It’s only inevitable since he’s facing the other way that his back bumps into the wood, but he still jumps, heart pounding.

“Get it together, Louis,” he scolds himself quietly. Pascal snickers at him and he shoots the creature a glare. He fumbles with the knob while trying to keep his gaze fixed on the stranger, succeeding in opening the door. Thankfully, Louis doesn’t have many clothes, but it’s still a struggle to keep watch as he pulls sweaters, trousers, nightgowns, and more from the cupboard, flinging them haphazardly to the side in a heap.

When the space is finally empty, he takes a deep breath, putting his free hand on his hip as he looks between the closet and the giant, musing over what the best course of action would be at this point. In the end, there’s not really much he can do except try.

Reluctantly, he abandons the frying pan but sets it in near lunging distance, before approaching the man with his head held high.

He remembers his mother’s words about him being too weak to take care of himself and frowns, taking another deep breath. He’ll show her! He can handle a man!

Channeling all his strength, he curls his fingers into the fabric of the man’s jacket and pulls. It only takes him a few seconds to realize that this method isn’t going to work and that the person is heavier than he thought, and he lets go, already seeking a better place to get some purchase.

He curls his arms under the man’s armpits, ignoring the dirt on his clothes that’s already spreading to Louis’ clean tunic before gritting his teeth and tugging with all his might. His arms burn, but he manages to pull the man up, staggering back when the weight settles over him, unfamiliar and solid.

Pascal is absolutely no help, watching him with amusement in his eyes as Louis flounders for control, stuck between not wanting to get suffocated by the man’s weight and trying to walk him back towards the closet. It doesn’t help that he keeps tripping over his hair - he really should have tied it up before attempting to do this, but pausing now would be impossible.

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to make it, breaths coming out in short pants and skin slick with sweat by the time he reaches the closet. He practically shoves the body into the door, heaving for breath.

He’s unused to this kind of physical exertion, unsteady at the feeling of blood pumping through his veins and his lungs contracting as they fight for air. But he did it, he reminds himself. And he can do this.

The confidence falters a bit when he realizes there’s about four inches between the bottom of the closet and the ground, meaning he has to somehow push the man up and into the space.

“I can do this,” he tells himself, repeating it mentally as he shakes his arms to get the feeling back in them before digging his fingers into the man’s hips and hoisting him up, putting his whole body into it. A strangled noise works its way up his throat when he succeeds in shoving the man up and inside the cupboard. He scrambles for the handles, hurrying to close the doors before the man comes falling back out and nearly succeeds, but the flimsy wooden doors aren’t enough to counter gravity.

“No, no, no!” Louis rushes, resorting to using his body to keep the doors shut, pressing his toes into the floor as hard as he can as he strains back against the bursting closet. He glances at Pascal, eyes widening in a plea for help.

Pascal tilts his head again, letting out a small hiss that Louis interprets as confusion. He sighs, gritting his teeth and pushing back harder, knowing he can’t hold it closed forever. He whips his head around to find something to help him and uses his hair like a whip, letting it curl around the leg of a chair and yank it towards him.

Louis uses it as leverage, slamming back into the doors as hard as he can before whirling around and using the top of the chair to fit under the knobs, keeping them from moving apart. He waits in bated breath to see if it holds, hands held out in preparation.

A minute passes and the chair holds steady. He lets out a sigh of relief, wiping his forehead with a trembling hand. Despite his apparent success, he moves another chair and one of his old paint caddies against the closet for extra support.

Then he stumbles back from the closet, head tipping back in relief. Pascal does his version of a cheer, jumping up and down where he’s perched himself on Louis’ dresser.

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” Louis says sarcastically. He sounds breathless though, exhaustion settling deep in his bones. His eyes fall to his abandoned frying pan and he doesn’t hesitate to grab it again, feeling safer with the unconventional weapon in his grasp.

Now that the adrenaline is quickly draining, Louis takes the time to process everything that’s just happened. He just shoved a man in his closet.

“I have a person in my closet,” he says, disbelief rising in his chest. He glances at Pascal who eyes him warily. “I’ve got a person in my closet!”

There is a living breathing human being less than ten feet away from him, broad and tall and real. Only the third human he’s ever seen in his entire nearly-nineteen years of living. He turns to the mirror and stares at his reflection, taking in his flushed cheeks, mussed hair, and the slightly crazed look in his eyes.

“Holy shit, I’ve got a person in my closet,” he repeats, much more awed this time. He lets out a startled laugh, feeling close to delirious. There’s so many other things he should be worrying about, he knows, but he can’t help but feel pride swell inside him as he smiles at the mirror - pride at how he calmly and rationally handled the situation. He swings the frying pan with a scoff, “How’s that for not being able to take care of myself, Moth - ow!”

The pan makes a vibrating noise when it collides with the side of his head and he jumps. Scowling, he slaps a hand over the rapidly swelling bruise that’s forming in its wake. He glares at the skillet, feeling betrayed.

Rubbing at the spot and hissing in pain, he turns his glare to the reflection of Pascal snickering behind him. “Shut up,” he mutters.

coming soon early 2021 to falsegoodnight!

#snippet #tangled au #a long time coming #this is also 1.7k words oops

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