#but trying to force labels on a woman who can’t so much as step outside for a walk without the media going on a frenzy is insane | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atsadi-shenanigans · 4 months

Text

Feeding Alligators 31 - The Bachelorette

Everyone takes a goddamn breather.

On AO3.

Which is when Gale and Shadowheart find y’all.

“What’s all this about a pass?” Shadowheart says, scenting blood in the water.

“That is where we find my people and the cure for these parasites,” Lae’zel says. “We leave immediately.”

To a chorus of negatives.

Astarion groans, because he’s Astarion. Gale questions the wisdom of setting out on a different venture with other priorities already in play. Shadowheart’s lungs have been magic-ed closed again, and while she can stand, walking is pushing it. Wyll just looks troubled (you remember his gut-churning horror over leaving the demon woman and the defenseless who might stumble into her path).

“Why don’t we at least rest here tonight and figure everything out tomorrow morning?” you say.

And then they’re all looking at you, and you wish you’d kept your stupid mouth shut.

“You found a potion?” Gale says. “I couldn’t find you after that mess down there.”

When you ran away. You ditched them. You couldn’t do anything to help, but you should have stayed; they were there on your idea.

“I didn’t want to be in the way,” you say and gesture to Shadowheart. It’s only halfway a lie. “I don’t know about medicine here. I’m sorry. Are you gonna be okay?”

“After some rest and once wiser opinions prevail,” she says and shrugs.

Fuck a duck.

Y’all are starting to draw a crowd, too. Both tieflings and druids. After what just happened, it makes your skin crawl to have so many eyes on you.

“We should probably make camp, then,” you say.

And one by one, the others agree. Now that everything is wearing off, all the adrenaline petering out, the exhaustion comes knocking.

Y’all set up on an outcrop above the druid circle. The chanting stopped. No more green haze swirling in a vortex around, what you can now make out, is an antlered idol. Rath calls a huddle outside the stone door, and he must announce what happened. Some of the druids slump in relief. But others lean in close to whisper. You catch at least two throwing glares at the steps up to the tiefling cave.

You hope they keep themselves armed, tonight.

So that’s one part of this dumpster fire banked. The tieflings can’t stay forever (don’t want to now, for obvious reasons). And as long as they plan to pack up and hit the trail, the goblins need to be dealt with.

But there’s no looming forced march, now. You’ve cut the hair holding the sword of Damocles. If nothing else, you accomplished that.

It’s only late afternoon, but y’all’s group is done. Even Lae’zel, after muttering and (you assume) swearing, takes a moment after she removes her armor to run her clawed fingers through her hair.

Then she busts out her cleaning kit, including that goddamn wheel.

You manage to join Astarion in setting up your tent as far away as possible (which puts you both near the ledge of the little promontory y’all are on). The sun shimmers over deep, blue sea out beyond the drop of the cliffs. The wind carries the scent of salt and water and growing things. It’s nice. You hesitate a moment, and then slip off your repurposed boots and roll up the legs of your trousers to give yourself shorts as best you can.

Then you find the closest tree and flop down.

Soft wind traces through your toes as you wiggle them. You scrunch them into the soft grass and sigh.

“You picked what I think might be the most beautiful spot here.” Wyll, heading up the slope from main camp holding two cups. He hands you one as he comes to a stop beside you. “May I join you?”

You beckon to the open spot of grass. He sinks down. Sighs. Glances at your bare legs and feet and then, with a smile, starts toeing off his own boots.

“Mmm,” he says and takes a sip of what smells like wine. “That’s much better. Good thinking.

You nod. Give him a silent toast and take a sip. Try not to grimace.

Wyll chuckles. “Not to your liking, I presume?”

The wine tastes like all wine does to you: intensely bitter. “Hints of cherries” a label might say. “Subtle smokiness.” It’s all bitter. Rotten, bitter grape juice. A slander to perfectly good juice, even.

“I don’t like alcohol,” you say. Because it doesn’t end at wine.

Beer? Sparkling, bitter wheat juice.

Whiskey? A burning, bitter punch to the back of your throat.

Vodka? Right out; you took a single sip and gagged into the sink.

This, finally out of all things, earns a startled look out of Wyll. “None at all?”

You sniff the wine. Try another sip. Still bad. “Nope. I’ll drink it if it’s mixed with other stuff that covers it. But even then, I can still taste it.”

You can’t tell if his expression is perplexed, pitying, or just amazed. He sets his own cup down right on the grass and leans back on his hands. “So what do you drink, where you come from?”

“Water. Tea.” A thought occurs. You try to keep your voice nice and normal and level. “Do y’all have coffee here?”

“Yes, actually.”

oh my god oh my GOD.

That thought must be showing loud and clear on your face, because he holds up a halting hand. “But it’s rare along the Sword Coast. You mostly only find it in port towns.”

Motherfucker.

You’ve heard the name Baldur’s Gate from some of the others. Astarion is maybe from there? Maybe he knows a place. Maybe you’ll have a reason to go there after all this brainworm bullshit.

“To my recollection, coffee is rather bitter,” Wyll says.

“Not with enough milk and chocolate.”

“Your people drink milk?” he says.

You pause. Right. Because that’s a genetic thing. One that might not be present over in Faerun (but they make cheese?).

“Historically, my mother’s people handle dairy very well,” you say. “My dad’s, not so much, but there’s enough Wh—of my mother’s side over there that my dad never had any issues. None of his side does, far as I know.”

Your fourth cousin might—little five-year-old spitfire. But she’s the only one.

Then you register what he didn’t ask about, and you have to breath calm and move slow so you don’t give your damn self whiplash. “Do you know what chocolate is.”

Please. Please. If there’s one good thing in this whole shitmess, please.

“Oh yes. Again, port cities, but my home town had at least once shop,” Wyll says and you want to kiss him on the mouth. He catches that expression, too. His good eye sparkles. “You’re a connoisseur, I take it?”

You got no idea how the fuck a French word translates, and you don’t care.

“I don’t care who I have to kiss, marry, or kill, if this place has chocolate, I am going to get it.”

His eyebrows lift. He gives a sort of “hmm” lip gesture and nods.

“Noted,” he says.

You both sit in silence for a moment. You’ve probably made this awkward. You get real excited about few things, but when you do, hoo boy.

You take another sip of the wine to try to cover it, and because he was nice enough to bring it and hospitality is written on your bones. He finally takes pity and gestures for the glass. You almost don’t give it back (it’s so rude). But then he gives you a look, and he’s still got that playful glint. He’s not mad. He’s not even annoyed. You hand it over.

“I wanted to tell you,” Wyll says and nonchalantly pours your wine into his. Is that something people do? Wine does seem important to everyone else; probably bad form to let it go to waste like that. “The way you handled that situation back there, with our gith friend. You did well. Not everyone could stand up against her like that. It was brave.”

It really wasn’t. She was attracting attention; would have attracted more, and with what y’all just did, that seemed a bad idea.

You shrug. “Was just trying to keep us all outta trouble.”

Wyll nods. Sips his wine. Stares at the blue sky a moment, where a crow circles far overhead. You wonder if it’s one of Bird Lady’s.

“Well. I’m glad to see the leader of the group I’m joining has a practical head on her shoulders,” he says.

“I’m not…” you start to say. Oh jesus fuck.

He gives you a knowing look. “Especially when that practicality includes protecting people.”

His praise sends a flicker of warmth through you. Quickly doused by cold shame. You’re not a protector. You never saved anybody but yourself. You were good and practical about that, leaving everyone else behind, leaving them to take the blame when you ran off into the night—

You give a tight-lipped nod. Wyll seems like a genuinely good person. There’s no way he’ll understand your bullshit, let alone sympathize with it.

He gives a formal kind of bow, and heads back down the slope towards the campfire, where Gale has two pots sitting over raked-out coals.

The leader. Christ’s sake. The only damn thing you’re fit to lead is a parade of your own mistakes off the edge of a cliff. Why in the fuck these people keep saying that is beyond you.

Though, a little voice whispers. That means you made yourself important, right? Enough to keep around?

Only so long as you keep performing well enough. Only so long as your shitty plans pan out. The second one doesn’t, the second they see how goddamn inadequate you actually are…

Fuck. You should have kept that wine. Slam the rest back just to take the edge off the constant, churning anxiety in your gut. You fiddle with the glowing ring on your pinkie finger.

A scrape as Astarion emerges from his tent with a small stool he one hundred percent did not have before. He sets it down, wiggles a bit to make sure it’s not going to tip over. Glances over to you, and then down to Wyll’s retreating back.

“Making friends, are we?” he says.

You shrug.

“The Blade of Frontiers,” Astarion says. “I might have heard of him once or twice back in Baldur’s Gate. In the lower districts, mind you. The taverns there care more about quantity rather than quality, if you know what I mean. I didn’t think we’d end up inviting obscure monster hunters into camp.”

“Wait, he’s what?” Astarion had been coiled tight when Gandrel identified himself. The look in his eyes as his fingers inched up to the hilt of his knife. “You don’t think he’s here for you, is he?”

“Oh darling, is that concern I hear?” When you only throw some plucked grass at him, he snorts. “No. I expect someone of his caliber wouldn’t be manipulated by the likes of Cazador. Though one can never be too certain, I suppose.”

Wyll, now seated at the campfire, sits enthralled by Gale and a lecture of some kind. He seems affable. Courteous. And very competent.

Unless that’s the point. He saw you as the leader and came to chat. Be friendly. Exactly like someone would do if they were trying to make themself appear non-threatening. He could be playing a long game. Either lull y’all into a false sense of security to grab Astarion in the night, or simply ingratiate himself well enough to try to turn y’all against the vampire spawn.

“Though I suppose having a mindflayer parasite dims the odds of that,” Astarion continues. “Hardly enough time to receive a summons and get himself abducted and brainwormed.”

“Or the shitbag who turned you already knew him, he already got himself abducted, and then that shitbag contacted him. How do y’all communicate over long distances? Is that a vampire thing at all?”

A pause. His whole tone lifts up into a teasing lilt. “You are concerned. Or at least planning something no doubt sinister in that devious little mind of yours.”

You turn and find him a lot closer than we was, looming over you. He’s changed out of his armor and into that silly, frilly shirt. He peers down at you with the sun lighting his hair into a white halo around his face.

“There’s not much we can do right now, I reckon,” you say. “If he’s just some wandering guy hunting this demon woman who got brainwormed like the rest of us, he seems like a good ally. I think we ought to wait and see.”

Astarion taps one long finger against his lips. Watches the camp a moment. And then, all silky, “And if he were a threat?”

You shrug again. “We’d have to deal with it, yeah?”

“Mmm. I have to admit a certain level of curiosity, my dear. Why go through all this plotting and planning to protect a vampire spawn? Even one as beautiful as my good self? We’re monsters, you know—though maybe you don’t.” And if that isn’t a backhanded insult. “Exactly the type of dangerous creature heroes like our good Blade put down. Yet here you are.”

Astarion is a grade-A ass. A for asshole. He left you high and dry after biting you. He tried to bite you in the first place. He’s rude and a thief and very clearly rolls his eyes whenever you do something halfway decent for somebody. You shouldn’t care. Were y’all back on Earth and all of these people normal humans, if you met this man at work or something, you wouldn’t give two shits about him.

Maybe it’s the brainworm connection. Maybe it’s just the first layer of foundation in shared fucking trauma. You’ve only known these people a little over a week, but already, the idea of losing one of them makes you nervous. And not just because you can’t boil a potato over a fucking campfire. It’s because, well…you might like some of them. Sorta. Very tentatively.

Even this pompous jackass.

You ain’t telling him one word of that, though.

“Pretty sure it’d fuck group morale beyond all repair if we go around letting each other get murdered or kidnapped or whatever,” you say. “Sets a bad example.”

That probably sounded really callous, didn’t it? Or maybe Astarion don’t care about stuff like that (he was down for letting Lae’zel go full ax murderer on that idiot man earlier).

The man tilts his head in a sort of nod. Then stands there for a couple of seconds, staring at you. Long enough to become uncomfortable. Long enough you open your mouth to ask if you got a bug in your hair.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” he says.

“Ain’t nobody let Gandrel know who you were. I doubt anybody’ll just stand by if somebody else—Wyll—tries to stab you.”

He actually gives you a fake little pout. “Oh, will you swoop in to defend me, darling? It might be a bit tricky without a chasm to shove him into. Though if you could get him up here, to the edge of the cliff…”

Okay. Wow. Fucking asshole. Maybe Gale had a point kicking him out in the dirt.

Before you can string those words together, he squats down next to you, face level with yours. His eyes are such an interesting shade close enough to see them. Most days, they’re a dull crimson, kind of brown in the right light at the right angle. But all up in his business like this, in full daylight, they’re the color of fresh, arterial blood.

“I do think it’s…sweet,” he says and boy howdy, that last word is doing a lot of heavy lifting there. “Not many would offer to take on a hero for my sake. Even if I’m reasonably certain you’d find a way to kill him without getting your own hands dirty.”

“I ain’t said a single goddamn word about killing—” you start.

And then he reaches towards you. Both brain and body sort of trip over their own feet, and you sit there like a jackass as his fingers brush your hair. Pluck up a blade of grass. Accidentally brush your ear on the way out.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s been bugging me for several minutes. And it sounds like dinner is nearly ready; I couldn’t on good conscience let our dearest leader show up with foliage in her hair. Even if she was the one who put it there.”

When—oh. Right. Throwing grass just blows it back at you most of the time.

Then Astarion stands, dusts off his hands, even as Gale’s voice rings out that supper is, indeed, ready.

He waits for you to climb back to your feet. You step past him to start downhill, and notice he don’t follow.

“There’s really no point in continuing the ruse anymore,” he says and waves dismissively at the gathering below. “I’ll stay at my tent, I think.”

You get it. If you couldn’t eat food no more (wait, what the fuck happened to all those meals he took back to his tent in the first days?) you probably wouldn’t want to sit around and watch everyone else enjoy it. Still. Isolating himself ain’t gonna help none of y’all.

“You sure?” you say.

“Quite. I have a few things I need to attend to.”

Well, you can’t force him. “Right. I think we’re gonna eat up and then figure out what to do, next. Want me to come get you for that?”

His head tilts again, the barest twitch. He looks…odd. Then he’s all smug and smarm again when he grins. “If you like. However, I’m rather beginning to trust your judgment, darling. Careful you don’t take on too many burdens, though?”

Goddamnit, he’s doing it, too. None of them should be doing that. They don’t know you like you do; they don’t know how much of a fuckup you really are, and you’re in too deep now to admit it.

Astarion glances back at you. His chin lowers a touch; gives his eyes a hooded look. “Do feel free to seek me out should you need someone to help alleviate any of those burdens, hmm?”

What a bizarre way to phrase that. And it’s not like he’s volunteered to help with literally anything else (that wasn’t murder). Still. If he wants in on the planning?

“Yeah,” you say and hope it doesn’t sound as weirded out as you are.

Guy is such a nut.

Notes:

Astarion: *seductively brushing Eleanor’s ear* Do let me know if I can alleviate you. Eleanor: *mii channel music playing* Why does he talk like that? My poor girl has the romantic intelligence of a potato. 😂

#feeding alligators fic #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #it's a goddamn isekai #plus size tav #demisexual tav #bg3 fic #astarion fic #slow burn #they're idiots #but they'll figure it out #very eventually

9 notes · View notes

stetervault · 3 years

Note

Hiii! Been delving into Steter now, in the year of our lord 2021, even though I never really did when I was active in the fandom years ago and I was wondering if you'd have some longfic recs for the ship? Like, fics that are Classics(TM)? But happy endings! And I'm not super into those in which Stiles is still underage 😬 do u have any recs? Thanks!

Welcome to the Steter fandom! I definitely have some long fics to rec, some of them are super old lol, and I'll stick to ones around 20k or over, and most of them are finished. And hmm, considering the ship, and a lot of fics like to start off in season 1 where Stiles is still technically a teenager, I'll try to limit these to ones with Stiles being at least 16/17 before anything starts happening, and only 18+ if there's explicit content. I hope that's okay.

drowning in the sea of you by Corpium

Beacon Hills was perfect for Stiles growing up, but now, with werewolves, hunters, and an anxious best friend running around, it's turning into a place too chaotic for an empath like Stiles to handle alone. And pain killers can only go so far.

Wake Me Up by ToAStranger

Stiles has been in a coma for six years. Now he's awake.

Tremors by Corpium

(Stiles has a taste for him now. All Peter needs to do is wait.)

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

Bite Down by EclipseWing

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

as you are by veterization

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are... different. Namely, he's in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Call My Name by KouriArashi

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Devil of Mercy by KouriArashi

Peter's heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels... sharply curious.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby by taylorpotato

Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

Stiles Stilinski, Disaster Chef by Guede

The zombie apocalypse forces Stiles to learn how to cook.

The Will by Guede

We are gathered here today for the reading of Gerard Argent’s will.

On the Importance of Lunar Influences in Gardening by Guede

“Oh, it’s you again,” Stiles sighs. He puts down his basket and drops the bunch of onions into it, and then dusts off his hands. “Can’t you get your own strawberries? I mean, I have it on good authority that wild strawberries? They’re a thing. They exist. They’re out there.”

“But Stiles,” says the werewolf dangling by one foot from the tree, sticky red smears around his mouth and all over his fingers. “Your berries are so juicy, so ripe. Those ones in the woods are mere passing indulgences compared to the royal feast you have in your garden.”

Genii loci Stiles and his father run a community garden, and it’s all good, except for the werewolf who keeps sneaking over the fence to raid Stiles’ strawberry patch (and the hunter who’s constantly hanging around his father).

Runes and all kinds of things by FeelingsDusk (WIP)

Enough is enough. Stiles is tired of being always a last choice when he always tries to do his best for his precious people, so they better get their act together or face being left behind.

The things in the Argent's basement get nearly fatal, the Sheriff finds about the supernatural, Allison can have a wicked, wicked mind and Peter Hale appears to be everywhere.

Oh, and Stiles can't seem to stop breaking the laws of physics with his magic.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise by neglectedtuesday

In the beginning, there are three absolutes.

One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.

Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.

Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.

Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.

Three absolutes.

You Had Me at Canapes by LadyArinn

Stiles doesn't mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn't mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride's uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn't like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

Infinite Space by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles needs Peter's expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills. And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter's just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

Open Wounds by Guede

Talia got out of the fire with Peter, but everyone else died. Years later, they’re still struggling with injuries, but they’ve at least settled in with oddball werewolf Stiles. And then other werewolves start showing up. Familiar ones.

Bittersweet Creek by Guede

When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.

For Great Justice! by Green

Stiles is a vengeance demon, drawn to Peter just as he's waking from his catatonia.

"Whoever did this? We will make those fuckers suffer. I promise you."

Bone Deep by ShippersList

A body in the woods, a mate, and a long-awaited revenge.

Peter had no idea how his life would change when he followed the strange pull in his chest.

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

Soothing the Burn by Therapeutic_Steter (WIP)

Peter is burnt out and breaking down. Stiles notices and offers him solace, along with the one thing he wants most: Pack.

Til Death by Bunnywest

“How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks. “Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is. “He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her. The camps……aren’t camps. Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

Ink Blossoms by Triangulum

"So, you're going to ruin your niece's baby shower with flowers in the wrong color?" the florist, Stiles, asks when they reach the counter. He pulls out a binder and starts flipping through it.

"Not ruin. Mildly inconvenience," Peter says.

"Right, messing with a hormonal pregnant woman seems like a great plan."

"To be fair, her fiance and the father of her baby is my ex-boyfriend," Peter says. "And we weren't broken up when they started 'dating'."

Stiles looks up at him in surprise. "And you're still getting her flowers?" he asks.

"It's under duress, I assure you," Peter says. He absolutely wouldn't be here if his alpha hadn't ordered it.

"Well, shit, yeah, let's get you some purple revenge flowers," Stiles says.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

love me lights out by veterization

Stiles and Peter get snowed in together. (Or: what happens when you accept phone calls from people you haven't spoken to in over five years.)

Uncle Peter Doesn't Date by Mellow (SweetCandy) (WIP)

“Oh don’t lie, you love it.” Peter purred and winked at his newest arm candy, who spluttered for a few seconds, before blushing like a 16 year old virgin. Considering how young he looked Laura wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually 16. “Shut up Peter!” Bambi squeaked, still flushing and averting Laura’s eyes. “Well, anyways, I’m,” ‘Bambi’. “Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you- again.” Stiles smiled sheepishly, obviously nervous. Stiles Stilinski. Definitely a stripper then.

Or: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn't been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski...her uncle's boyfriend.

Under the Songbird’s Wing by mia6363

Captivity easily destroys the will of escape. It can break the fiercest of animal. It can strip the most regal man and woman down to nothing but animal needs.

Captivity can, if met with unwavering determination, shape a person into something unimaginable.

Stiles is sixteen when he's captured. Stiles's first thought is, "I won't die here."

Baby Whisperer by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

“What. Is that.”

Scott looked up at him, apprehensive.

“Her name’s Lily.”

Stiles stared at the fuzzy head peeking out of the papoose.

“Her. Her name. That is a real live human baby. Oh my God-”

“Actually I don’t know if she’s human?” Scott said with a confused frown. “Becca didn’t say.”

“Who the fuck is Becca?!”

Sacrificial Lamb by Bunnywest

The Alpha has a scruffy beard, unkempt hair and dazzling blue eyes. The scar on his face is raised, running down his cheek like a twisting, gnarled rope. Stiles knows that it came from the blade of Kate Argent herself, and that the Alpha got it fighting in the battle where Kate killed his lover, cutting his head clean from his neck, if the stories are to be believed.

The Alpha lets Stiles look his fill, before indicating that Stiles should take the other couch, and Stiles does so, his father’s words echoing in his ears. He can do this, can be pleasant and amenable. The lives of his people may depend on it. The Alpha spends long moments surveying him, before saying, “I like you, Stiles.”

You don’t know me, Stiles wants to blurt out, but he bites his tongue.

The Various Triumphs of Mischief Bilinski by Whispering_Sumire (WIP)

"Hello, Chris," sings a honeyed voice from behind.

Chris' attention snaps toward the intruder, his gun already out of its' holster and aimed at whoever it is — a boy, apparently, with braided russet hair, a red jacket, and wise eyes. He's wearing a gas mask, but Chris can tell by the way his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way sun-burnt sand swirls in his irises, that he's smiling.

Chris cocks his gun.

"You killed my father," he says.

"No offence, but he totally deserved it," the stranger agrees with cheerful solemnity.

"What the hell are you doing in my home?" Chris demands. The kid is perched on a windowsill in Chris' office, as nonchalantly as if this were something he did every day, as if they were familiar.

"I was just wondering," the kid speaks softly, fond amusement sewn through with a peculiar resignation, "how you'd feel about putting down some nazis?"

[Or: The one where Stiles goes back in time and subsequently fucks with everything.]

A Curious Magic by Triangulum

Overall, Stiles is very well-known in the supernatural community. It’d be hard not to be, not with how his reputation has grown like wildfire. He knows and is on good terms with nearly all the fae that reside in the preserve, the asrai that live deep in the lake, the Ito pack, the vampire couple that lives over in Beacon Valley (they buy an ethically-sourced food supply from Stiles), as well as almost every other supernatural entity in the area. But Talia Hale doesn’t like him, and a werewolf pack tends to do what their alpha tells them to.

So it’s a definite surprise when the wards at the edge of his property trip, the tingling down his spine telling him it’s a werewolf, the lack of burning sensation letting him know there’s no hostile intent. Stiles, in his office in the second floor turret, sets down the amulet he’s packing up for Marin and moves to the large window overlooking the front of his property. He’s expecting to see an Ito packmember, even though they nearly always call in advance, and is surprised to see a man that he recognizes as Talia’s brother, Peter.

Light in the Dark by cywscross

It still surprises Stiles sometimes, how easily he’s adapted. Seven months in a world filled with train tracks and soul-sucking fae, and it feels like he’s never known anything else.

Or, the one where diverting the Ghost Riders from Beacon Hills to prey on a different town only succeeded in setting them free.

Vengeance Looks Good On You, Sweetheart by cywscross

Just because Scott refuses to see the Argents for what they truly are - prejudiced serial killers sitting proudly on a mountain of innocent corpses - doesn't mean Stiles will. It's about time someone did something about the Argent Empire anyway, and what a coincidence - summer vacation is just around the corner.

Or, the one where Gerard Argent kidnapped the wrong fucking person to torture. Stiles has never subscribed to the policy of forgiving and forgetting anyway, not when razing the problem to the ground and salting the earth for good measure has always been a far better solution in the long run.

He doesn't expect to have company.

#rec list #teen wolf #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #fanfic rec #akielosrises #ask

133 notes · View notes

maomao-words · 3 years

Text

Here is another self-indulgent piece of writing! (✿´‿`)

I binged Blue Lock’s manga in 3 days and I am now left with an empty void that I’m trying to fill by writing about my favorite characters in it.

On a side-note, I always seem to think of them as 18-19 years old.

Contains few spoilers on some characters’ ranks after the Third Selection!

Being their Personal Manager at Blue Lock: (Itoshi Rin, Seishiro Nagi, Hyoma Chigiri)

Rin Itoshi:

Being assigned to the 1st ranker in all of Blue Lock immediately after your adaptability test barely shocked anyone. At this point in time where the whole existence of Blue Lock centered around Itoshi Rin, it was more than obvious that Rin would only receive the utmost care and the very best of the candidates as his manager.

Ranking first in the agonizingly harsh Entrance Exam and managing to out best all 600 other candidates from over the country, you were always the sole choice for Itoshi Rin’s personal manager.

You were already familiar with Rin’s character, preferences, weaknesses, strengths, diet and overall living style. You even had his body measurements down to the millimeter engraved in your brain. You thought yourself as perfectly ready to assist him in his endeavor, but reality soon proved you slightly wrong.

Meeting the genius called Itoshi Rin for the first time, you swore your blood ran cold within your veins the minute his eyes locked with yours. An oppressive aura, suffocating enough to send shivers down your back, surrounded you immediately the minute you stepped into his room. It took all of your willpower not to tremble in front of him.

Rin’s gaze did not move from yours for what seemed like an eternity, but noticing no visible signs of fear or submission on you, his lips slightly curved in a smirk and he finally stood up from his chair, discarding your test results on the table nearby.

“Not bad. She’ll do for now.”

Once you gained Rin’s initial approval, you started your mission as his closest aid. From the moment Rin opened his eyes to the minute he closed his door at night to sleep, you never left his side. You calculated his calories intake and planned his meals accordingly. You carefully reserved the training field and machines to Rin’s own wishes, making absolute sure they are available for Rin to use without any interruption or interference from other players. You planned, ran around, filled up water bottles and picked up emergency kits more quickly than you have ever did back in your own school’s competitive soccer club. You did that over and over again, to the point that you felt like dying. Until you finally broke down.

But being Itoshi Rin’s personal aid did not even offer you the privilege of breaking down in public. You waited until the day’s clamor and chaos was over. You meticulously prepared Rin’s lunch and reminded him to take the few tablets of vitamins afterwards before finally excusing yourself.

Rin raised a brow in faint confusion, as you have never willingly separated yourself from his side, even during meals. But the wound within your chest has finally festered to the point of no return, and you were unable to provide him with a convincing explanation before you gathered your papers and left.

The empty hallway located far from the center cafeteria soon echoed with your faint sobs. You gathered up your knees close to your chest and slowly rocked yourself in hopes of easing your pain. Weeks of harsh labor, zero communication with the outside world as well as the stress that came with handling all of Rin’s demanding responsibilities finally bled over.

You were not giving up. ‘Make no mistake,’ you whispered to yourself between sobs. You were just taking a much earned break before drying up your tears and returning to work.

But just as you began to feel frustrated at the tears still falling on your cheeks, you felt a heavy cloth fall on top of your head accompanied with an extremely familiar fragrance.

You jolted, hand coming up to clutch at Rin’s jacket before glancing up at the tall figure standing by your side. You opened your mouth but a round package slammed into your face next, leaving you to wince in pain.

“Eat that and let’s hurry back. I can’t find my black cleats.��

Rin’s voice echoed in the empty hall, forcing you to bring your attention to the melon bread he threw at you. Sounds of clothes rustling beside you made you look up again, only to find that Rin has sat down beside you, hand coming up to tug you closer to him.

Placing his palm on top of your eyes, Rin’s voice sounded as soft as ever as he whispered.

“Rest. I’m here.”

Seishiro Nagi:

As you stared down at your test results that have finally arrived after a long wait, you suddenly had the urge to cry out.

Why him of all people?

Having extensively studied all of Blue Lock’s key players prior to passing the Entrance Exam as a manager, you were filled with admiration and respect to them and thus felt ready to be assigned to any of them. Any of them but Nagi Seishiro.

A beginning who did not even know the most basic of the basics on football yet somehow blessed enough to be labeled as a genius even among Blue Lock’s outstanding participants. That was Nagi Seichiro.

You abhorred geniuses. You abhorred how easily they reached their goals, how effortlessly they achieved their desires and how the entire world seemed to bow down in front of them. Becoming the personal manager of a hard working individual, like Isagi Yoichi for example, would have made you the happiest woman on the planet. To watch that individual sweat and toil, think and plan all of his minor actions in order to reach the pinnacle of his dreams through both talent and hard work and get to assist him in that process was the reason behind your entrance to Blue Lock.

So when the day where the eleven chosen managers entered the isolated towering building to meet the elite players ranking at the top of the whole project came, all you could taste was bitterness and rage in your mouth.

After Ego finished the basic introductions between managers and players, he gave the green light for you all to start performing your duties. As you began to collect your belongings that were delivered to you by the staff, you could see the tall figure of a young man approaching you from behind.

Without allowing Nagi the faintest chance to offer his help, you hoisted your luggage up with both hands and started walking towards the managers’’ sleeping quarters with only “I will be back shortly” thrown behind your back at the frozen Nagi.

A job was a job after all and you had no intention to slack off because of your personal dislikes. But you will be sure to maintain a professional distance from Blue Lock’s 6th ranker to avoid any unnecessary trouble.

Being Nagi’s personal manager was as hard as you have expected. Having to support a monster who does not cease to evolve with each passing day at a frightening pace would be considered had by anyone’s standards. But you were already aware of the heavy duties imposed on you from the start so you grinded your teeth and bared the pain. The only issue you seemed to have was, unsurprisingly, Nagi himself.

You have intended for your cold treatment the day you both met to be enough warning for the player. You wanted to perform your duties. Nothing less, nothing more. But Nagi seemed to have another idea on the relationship between you.

He did not hinder your tasks nor act difficult on purpose to harm you, but he also made sure to greet you warmly each morning before plopping his large hand on top of your head and gently pat your hair for a few minutes before leaving.

He made sure to stick close to you during meal time, pushing off whatever he deemed not-tasty to your own plate, and innocently smiling when your try to scold him. He always shared his dessert with you, no matter how many times you tried to lie and tell him you disliked sweets. He constantly tried his best not to overburden you with questions on players and tactics and carefully chose the times where you were free enough to answer him.

In short, Nagi Seichiro was a weirdo. A weirdo you wanted to choke.

As the time went by, your perspective on Nagi was entirely transformed, despite yourself. You started to put extra care into his meals, go beyond what is required of you when it came to taking care of his training schedule and treatment and even sacrifice some of your free time in order to answer as much of his questions as you can.

One morning, as Nagi stepped in the room and smiled brightly at you, you found yourself moving in closer to him before raising your arms and catching him in a tight hug. Nagi almost stumbled in surprise, but managed to stable you both as he wrapped his hands behind your back. But before he could even utter a word, your mouth opened and a joyful, “Good morning Sei-chan!” came out.

Hyoma Chigiri:

“Are you sure you wish to be assigned to Chigiri?” Ego’s detached voice echoed in the almost empty hall, stopping you in your tracks. The results of the Blue Lock Entrance Exam for managers were just announced and the chosen eleven were asked to pack up and be ready to leave in a two-hours frame.

“You do realize that your rank actually qualifies you to become Itoshi’s Rin support, don’t you?” Ego’s fingers tapped on the table in a rhythmic manner, not stopping even as you glared at him.

“Yes, sir, I am well aware of that fact. But my decision will not change.” Your voice, calm and steady, caused Blue Lock’s host to grin, his raven locks falling to the side as he tilted his head to inspect you closely. “A calculative, rational and logical tactician as you, who managed to outrank all 600 other participants in a six hour long exam, is moved by mere personal emotions?”

It was hard for any regular person to detect the mockery dripping from each of Ego’s words and not feel their blood boiling within their veins. Only you slightly smirked at Ego, eyes curving in genuine mirth as you joyfully answered: “Yes! Is there any problem?”

All the struggles you have faced so far in order to reach this point were, after all, done for the sake of one person: Hyoma Chigiri. Specializing in medical treatment and athletic injuries as a manager was not a coincidence. You have long became aware of your intense desire to support Chigiri and aid him in his journey to achieve his dreams. No matter how many people laughed at you both, no matter how many criticized your choices and claimed you could do much, much better than an injured boy, playing on borrowed time, your resolve never shook.

As you finally locked eyes with Chigiri after your arrival at Blue Lock, you saw how his shoulders slightly trembled and his eyes widened, and your resolve was instantly renewed. Not many words were needed as you playfully extended your hand to shake Chigiri’s own. He was aware that you were there for him and that you will not change your mind no matter what he says or does.

Your duties at Blue Lock were slightly easier than your fellow managers simply due to the fact that you were already familiar with Chigiri’s routine. Needing no time to adjust, you dove head first into taking care of Chigiri, putting the well-being of his knee as your utmost priority. You tried your best not to bite your lips each time you bent down to take a look at the previously injured area, fully knowing that Chigiri has made his peace with the incident and was now focusing on moving on with no regrets.

Your favorite task to perform was, and still is, taking care of Chigiri’s silky hair. You were faced with his slightly damaged locks the day you arrived at Blue Lock’s building and Chigiri had to apologize a couple of times for ruining the hair you treasured the most. Ever since then, you returned to your usual task of picking hair products for him, drying and styling his hair depending on Chigiri’s schedule for the day. Braids were your go-to style but you also enjoyed changing things up, knowing that it made Chigiri happy each time you tried to come up with a new hairdo.

Now that you were finally reunited with your childhood friend and lover, you were ready to give it your all and see it all to its final end.

#blue lock #blue lock manga #itoshi rin #seishirou nagi #hyoma chigiri #itoshi rin x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #hyoma chigiri x reader

539 notes · View notes

bukojuiice · 3 years

Text

something in the rain — todoroki shoto

ೃ you and shoto were once childhood best friends and sweethearts who had lost touch and communication. 12 years has passed since then, and on a fated summer day in june, there was something in the rain that brought two lost souls back to each other’s arms.

ೃ pairing: shoto todoroki x fem! reader

ೃ tags: childhood friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff

ೃ warnings: none!

ೃ wc: 1k

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr! if you want to be a part of my mha taglist. send me an ask! ♡

ೃ song inspo: film out by bts

Puppy Love…

What a sweet and trivial concept.

Was it not?

You and Shoto met each other at the tender age of 7. Roughly two years into his intense and odious training brought upon him by his father. His mother who still unwaveringly continued to support him, would sneak the half and half boy out in between his trainings. Whether to bring him out to play in the local playground, run around in the flower fields, or to just go shopping in the local grocer. These simple things were enough to make the boy happy. Even for just a short moment.

Then, during one fated day, the sun was about to go down, and no other child was frolicking around the playground.

It was just you.

Alone on the swing, your eyes cast down on the ground, wriggling your feet and dipping them into the play sand. You hear a faint creaking sound of the seat next to you and now you were accompanied by a boy the same age as you were. Heterochromatic eyes filled with innocence and love, a smile that looked like it never left the curves of his face, floofy half red and white hair that gave him a very distinct yet striking appearance.

“Why are you all alone?” He inquires, tilting his head. “It’s almost night time too. It’s going to get scary…”

“You came here alone too.” You snapped back, averting his gaze and your mouth forming into a pout.

He shakes his head, “No I didn’t. My Mommy is just there.” He points to a faint silhouette of a woman not far from the two of you.

“Oh.” You blink. “Well, um- my house is just over there! So, my parents don’t need to always keep an eye on me!” You cross your arms, pointing to your house a few feet away from the playground.

“You’re lucky. My dad keeps an eye on me a lot. He’s scary most of the time too and I think it’s because of my quirk…” His shoulders visibly slump as he breathes out a hefty sigh. “Mommy takes me out to go play when I’m done with my training and I’m happy because of it!”

“D-do you wanna play on the slide?” You ask him, twiddling with your fingers. A faint shade of pink present on your cheeks. “If it’s okay, I wanna share my happiness with you!“

His eyes sparkle. “Sure! But…. wait! I don’t even know your name yet!”

“Ah my name’s (Y/N)!”

“I’m Shoto!” He grins, his eyes sparkling once more and you can’t help but become flustered even more.

Oh, how you wish to see those bright blue and grey eyes again. His fluffy white and crimson hair, and just… feel his lingering presence in your life once more.

Why did time have to go by so fast?

Why did he have to leave?

After a year of feeling nothing but the purest and most blissful emotions whenever you were with him, that all came crashing down when Shoto and his family moved to another city. The reason why was because the neighborhood that you lived in wasn’t “healthy” for him or rather, it was too friendly and Shoto was getting attached to you even though he shouldn’t.

Heroes are built to be as strong as steel after all. Emotionally and Physically. Endeavor doesn’t want his son to be a soft little marshmallow who only beams so brightly whenever he hangs out with the little girl from the quaint neighborhood.

…It’s been 12 years since then.

You’re now a perpetually tired and no-nonsense sophomore college student. Studied hard enough to get a scholarship at one of the most prestigious universities in Japan and now it feels like you’re drowning in a massive amount of school works and extra cred.

Now, looking back at your whimsical childhood life that was only made possible because of one particular Icy-Hot boy, you get a sudden feeling of euphoria course through you as you reminisce the good times.

There was a feeling of inevitability when you met Shoto.

There was something about him that drew you in.

Even at such a young age, you had the sense that the two of you would be together.

That a moment in time would come in where he would look at you in a certain way and the two of you would cross the threshold of friendship into something so much more.

Which proved to be true, as he has always felt the same way as you did.

The two of you knew each other a little better than everyone else.

All the little secrets shared through giggles and fits of laughter, the embarrassing moments shared in a small and dusty playground, and the sweet little memories that the two of you were too young to understand, but what your prying yet loving mothers both noticed.

Your lives were fated to converge like some cosmic dance. Like two shooting stars descending from the night sky. It was always fate.

It was fate that the two of you met. It was fate that the two of you would become friends, playmates, and childhood sweethearts.

But you guess it wasn’t fate that the two of you would remain friends forever.

You are still hoping for a sign in the sky or a word from the stars.

If the two of you are fated to meet again.

The soft boom of thunder and sparkle of lightning awoken you from your slumber.

You had fallen asleep whilst studying for your finals. Just ten minutes of rest. You whispered to yourself.

Those ten minutes ended up becoming an hour and a half wasted and instead of studying and memorizing the chemical formulas, you ended up dreaming about ramen instead.

Some pages of your chemistry book were creased as you had ended up using it as a pillow. You pay this no mind as you mindlessly rub your eyes out of habit, looking out the window, as rain had begun to pour outside.

You continue to observe the rainfall as the soft sound of droplets hitting the windowpane was so soothing to you, giving you a momentary peace of mind.

Your short meditation moment was soon interrupted with the grumbling of your stomach.

“Mom and Dad aren’t home till 9…” You stretch your arms, groggily murmuring to yourself. “Might as well have a trip to the convenience store.” You hop out of your chair, reaching for a grey hoodie and matching sweatpants from your closet, trying to channel the comfy girl look as you head out.

You lock the door to your house, opening your umbrella as you whistle your way to the convenience store, taking each step carefully hoping you don’t step on any dirty puddles and hoping you see some cute little frogs on the pathway.

You stop in your tracks when you notice a black sedan parked not too far from your house. You raise suspicion a little bit until you remembered that a new family was moving in the house near you, so you decided to just brush off your skepticism.

“Welcome to Conbini! May I kindly ask you to leave your umbrella by the door?” The cashier greets you, trying to force a customer-friendly smile. They might have had a rough week and you don’t want to be labeled as those jerk kinds of customers so you nod at her and leave your parasol at the entrance.

“Oh my god.” You were about to drop the bags of food in your hands when you notice that your umbrella was gone from the parasol stand, another customer possibly mistaking their umbrella for yours. You sigh in defeat. “You know what, heck it. I could care less at this point.” You pull up your hoodie, dashing your way back home, hoping you don’t end up getting sick from this careless situation you’ve put yourself into.

You stop in your tracks once again when you see a dashing-looking man standing in front of the gates of your house.

tall, well built, half and half colored hair that was wet and tangled, wearing a long and patterned coat, hands in his pockets… it felt as if he was waiting for someone to come out of your home.

Could this be…?

He was alerted by the sound of your steps rippling with the puddles in the pavement, turning to face you, his umbrella twirling with him.

His eyes grow wide at the sight of seeing you, and you notice his chest rise up, like a feeling of relief and of hope.

“(Y/N)…?”

“S-shoto?”

These are still the beautiful heterochromatic eyes you know and love. Only this time, it had a darker hue reflecting from his orbs. These are eyes who have seen and who have gone through so much.

You can’t even believe it.

Here he was, standing right in front of you. The boy you loved all those years ago.

Even more handsome, mature, and striking, and yet you could feel this broken emptiness radiating from him. Emotional scars that still run deep through him and… at this moment, you just want him to bare his heart to you. All this pain and suffering he has felt all these years.

You feel droplets of water sliding down your cheek like crystal teardrops.

“It’s really you…” You were about to drop the bags of food in your hands due to your blissful bewilderment but Shoto rushes to you with his umbrella, shielding you from the storm.

He was a bit too close and you could feel the heat rush up to your cheeks again, a feeling you have not experienced in so many years.

“Ah. I’m sorry.” He steps back a little from you and you can hear yourself internally monologue “nooo” as he takes a few steps away. “It’s been 12 years isn’t it?” He catches your attention again.

“It is. Yeah...” You nod, still looking up at him, a certain twinkle in your eyes and an inexplicable feeling growing in your chest. “W-what brings you here?” You add, your voice soft and sweet, whether you did this on purpose or not will forever remain a question.

“My family… we’re moving back here.” He replies quickly. solemn, yet there was a tint of excitement in his tone. “My father thought it was best if my mother, my siblings and I lived in a different house than him after… all the pain that he made us go through… and so… here we are.”

“Oh! Would you like to come inside and have some coffee?” You ask, pointing your finger to your humble abode. “We have a lot of catching up to do.” You giggle jokingly, trying to keep the atmosphere light and warm despite the cold weather present around you.

You start heading to the direction of your house, knowing that Shoto will follow you inside until…

he grabs you by the arm, enveloping and pulling you in for a tight yet soft and comforting hug. A feeling that you’ve been wistfully longing for such a long time.

A feeling that only Shoto Todoroki could give.

“I missed you so much (Y/N)… can you share your happiness again with me?”

In the midst of the rainy summer season that brought nothing but dim and grey skies, wet and damp atmosphere, and endless floods of sorrow, you were his spring. The rosebud opening in the watery sunshine.

The whimsical girl with grass-stained knees running around the meadow with him… like a prophecy telling him that new beginnings were about to come, your personality and your appearance reminded him of the cherry blossom trees that symbolized a time of renewal.

You were the rainbow after a storm. Spreading light and color to those around her…

The one who brought back light and color to his life again.

“from all the memories stored in my heart”

I only picked up and connected the ones of you.”

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34 @lovelytarou @ramunegoddess, @serossimpy @laudthingcat

#shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shoto x y/n #todoroki x y/n #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto x reader

207 notes · View notes

xxdragonwriterxx · 3 years

Text

🔥Wings of Freedom (Part 2)🔥

A/N: Finally got part 2 done! Thank you for your patience with this mini series, I’ve been so busy with school lately and I still have so many drafts that I’ve been trying to publish them evenly so I don’t keep you guys waiting for anything too long. Thank you so much for your support, I love all of you so much and I can’t wait to show you the other stuff I have planned for this blog. I have a few requests on the way, so stay tuned for that, but for now, here is the sequel to Wings of Freedom (finally)!

Part 1 is here if you haven’t read it yet!

🐉Song Recommendation: “Machine” By: MisterWives 🐉

Word Count: ~3.9k

~~~

Levi felt like he was experiencing deja vu as he glanced around the courtroom from where he stood beside Erwin, waiting for Hanji to come back. Only, he felt a lot more nervous. The first time, he had felt nothing but an impatience to get the event started, his eyes hard and cold as he had looked down at an immature, green-eyed brat who could turn into a titan, waiting for his future to be decided as either a useful tool for humanity, or a human experiment to be tortured in a lab. Now, his insides were doing their best impression of a pretzel, churning and twisting until he felt sick with worry. This wasn’t going to be a meeting about some random brat from the streets, this was concerning the fate of the love of his life.

The night she had come back had been bittersweet for both of them. They had spent the night wrapped up together, (Y/N)’s wings out for the first time around Levi, the warm membranes curled around him protectively so he could feel her heartbeat thrumming through his entire body. They had been cuddled close, holding each other like it was the last time they would be able to do so, unsure of what events would unfold the next morning. Both Levi and (Y/N) knew everything was about to change, knew (Y/N)’s fate would be challenged and decided the next day, but it didn’t stop the anxiety from rolling around in his gut, making his stomach give another violent lurch.

“Hey,” Erwin said lowly, placing a hand on Levi’s shoulder when he noticed his friend’s queasy expression, “She’s going to be alright. We will fight for her with everything we’ve got.”

Levi managed a stiff nod in Erwin’s direction, his heart warming at his friend’s support. Although Levi had never doubted his friends, he had been surprised by how supportive and accommodating they had been when Levi had announced (Y/N)’s initial reappearance. They had both expressed their immense relief at her safe return while Hanji worked to heal her bullet wound, keeping her enthusiastic questioning to a minimum at Levi’s insistence.

Levi’s thoughts were cut short by the appearance of said energetic scientist, the tall brunette carefully picking her way through the rows of gathered officers and moving to stand on the other side of Erwin.

“She’s doing okay,” Hanji said before Levi could even open his mouth. “She’s a little nervous but that’s normal. Everything else is going smoothly so far, so she will be brought out in a few minutes.”

Levi nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He was trying his hardest to stay calm, to keep from lunging at Premier Zackley and strangling him until he promised to let (Y/N) go, but it was starting to strain on him. His skin broke out in a sweat as he forced himself to take deep breaths. He could do this. For (Y/N), he could do this.

He immediately looked up at the sound of the large wooden doors opening with a loud creak, his attention settling on the (h/c) haired woman handcuffed between two guards, her head down so her hair curtained her expression from others. His eyes narrowed and a low growl slipped from between his lips at the sight of the bruises on her arms and legs from the chains and cuffs she had been wearing in her cell. His blood was roaring in his ears as he fought every instinct he had to swoop down and bring her back into his arms. He had almost lost her once, he wouldn’t lose her again, no matter the cost.

Her wings were hidden, the huge black membranes tucked safely in the slits of her back, away from the prying eyes of the assembled soldiers. That at least gave Levi some relief, the knowledge that the extra sensitive appendages were kept from harm or unwanted touch.

The dull chatter in the courtroom hushed as (Y/N) was brought to the center of the room, pushed into a kneeling position on the same platform Eren had been placed on just a few years prior. One of the guards holding her leaned down and clapped her manacles to the sturdy metal post behind her, double checking that she was secure before backing away, moving with the other guard to stand on either side of Premier Zackley, guns at the ready.

The room was so quiet you could’ve heard a pin drop. The people in the room barely breathed as they waited impatiently for Zackley to finish preparing his notes, eager to see if they rumors were true. The Premier cleared his throat, shuffling the papers in front of him as he peered down at the woman on the platform from over the top of his glasses.

“(Y/N) (L/N)?”

(Y/N) looked up when her name was called, her eyes hard as she stared up at the older man.

“Yes.”

“Member of the Survey Corps. Age (#). Cadet under the command of Squad Leader Hanji Zoe,” Zackley read off, glancing at her after every sentence for her quick nod of confirmation. “It looks like you have no criminal record, but your place and date of birth are unknown, so that technically can not be confirmed nor denied outside of the information gathered during your time as a soldier.”

(Y/N) swallowed hard but did not respond, waiting, just as Hanji had told her to do, for the Premier to make his point. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be patient, knowing that if she rushed this, if she wasn’t careful, she could easily be thrown to the wolves.

“It looks like, based on these reports, that you are a loyal soldier who has a clean background, a solid record, and a hard working personality, since it is labeled here that you are about to be promoted to Squad Leader,” the Premier leaned forward, “that means, we are here for a different reason entirely. Tell me, do you know why you are here?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) answered clearly.

“Very good. Now, without further ado, this court is now in session.”

As soon as Zackley opened the floor, a man from the Military Police stood, a smug grin on his face as he glanced at the annoyed scowls of the Survey Corps officers who were watching him.

“Premier Zackley, thank you for that wonderful introduction,” the man started off, making Levi roll his eyes so hard they hurt. “I would like to start off on behalf of the Military Police and say that this woman should be placed in our custody.”

The Survey Corps officers exchanged glances at that. They had been expecting the man to rant on and on about how she should be tortured, experimented on, or killed, not taken in by another branch of the military. The one closest to the King, no less.

“Interesting, state your case,” Zackley said, folding his hands in front of his face.

“We believe she could be of great use with us, sir. She could be a viable source of protection for our current ruling monarch, and we could use her to increase funding for our resources and supplies. Nobles would come from miles around to see her, it’s something we can use to better the lives of all of the soldiers in the military! Instead of groveling for money at their feet, we could charge them to come see her, within the safety of the walls, perfectly ready to display for anyone who is willing to pay.”

(Y/N) had to fight to keep from grimacing in disgust at the thought of being constantly gawked at like some kind of freak, put out for people to see as if she were some sort of entertainment for them, rather than a human being trying to fight for humanity.

“What use is earning money from her like some kind of exotic beast if our soldiers keep dying?” Erwin cut in, making (Y/N)’s eyes soften at the sound of her friend’s hard voice trying to make others see reason. “She is needed in the Survey Corps with us, it’s what she was made for. She can continue to fight against the titans with us, allowing us to give her the proper protection as she uses her gifts to make fighting these man-eating monsters a hell of a lot easier. She would waste away if she was stuck within the walls with the Military Police.”

“Well, as I see it, Commander Erwin, she can’t be trusted outside of the walls with you. She hid this for how long? How many years now has she let her comrades die over and over again, never stepping in to save them? According to her reports, she didn’t try to assist any of you during your missions other than with the normal efforts displayed by every soldier, at least, until she apparently saved Captain Levi. And rumor has it, those two are sexually involved with one another, which would make for that incident to be purely based on bias rather than a change of heart. If she really was meant to be a helpful tool for humanity, she would’ve become that by now.”

Erwin shook his head, his hand reaching out slightly to touch Levi’s forearm when the shorter raven-haired man opened his mouth to retort. “She has already explained to us her reasoning behind that. If she had shown herself on base, she would’ve risked getting hunted or killed, or getting those around her injured if someone decided to use her friends and comrades as blackmail for her capture. If she had shown herself on the field, she would’ve risked sending her comrades into shock, making it difficult, if not impossible, for them to concentrate on the mission, running the risk of twice the number of soldiers dying. She has tried to find the right time to reveal her gift to us, but it’s been nearly impossible for her, something that was proven by the men of the Garrison out on the field when she finally did reveal herself, only to get shot and chased.”

“So you are saying that she was justified in letting the hundreds of lives she could’ve saved die? Because she couldn’t find the right timing?” The Military Police pig said incredulously, his every word like a punch to (Y/N)’s gut. “I was unaware the soldiers of the Survey Corps were so selfish, cared so little about their men in battle. If this doesn’t further bolster my claims, I don’t know what would.”

“That’s not what I said,” Erwin said, his voice cold. “I said-”

“And you brought up the men from the Garrison,” the MP cut off Erwin, smiling wider at the glares thrown his way. “I have actually brought them today as witnesses. They would like to say a few words, if that is alright?”

The Premier thought for moment before giving a slow nod.

As soon as the all clear was given, the MP motioned for two of the Garrison soldiers who had fought beside the Survey Corps that day to come forward. (Y/N) growled low in her throat at the sight of the men, especially the bigger of the two, the one that had shot her. She noticed Levi tense out of the corner of her eye, knowing he remembered just as well. She threw him a quick reassuring glance just as Hanji placed a hand on his shoulder, imploring him not to react. Levi managed to calm himself, crossing his arms over his chest, but she could tell it was taking every ounce of effort from him not to kill the man.

“Names?” The Premier asked.

“Louis Bordgenson.”

“Graham Pickett.”

“Bordgenson, Pickett, could you please explain why you are here? Why do you believe (Y/N) (L/N) should be placed under Military Police custody?”

“We were two of the few to witness what happened when (L/N) saved Captain Levi from the titans, sir,” Graham said. “We are here to support the Military Police in their decision of taking (L/N) into their custody because we believe that what we saw on the field is a perfect example of the Survey Corps’ shortcomings as a branch. They need to be improved, restored with proper management and leadership. And it all starts with weeding out the soldiers that need to be corrected, allowing them to reevaluate their life choices in a place that won’t get others killed. Out on that field, we were attacked by all of the Survey Corps officers when I shot at (L/N) for my own defense, without even pausing for a moment to consider the situation. That woman attacked me, nearly knocked me right into a titan’s mouth with her wings, and flew off, leaving her comrades for dead, even as they still fought for her in the end.”

Louis nodded along with what Graham was saying before opening his mouth to add on. “Exactly. And when we got back from beyond the walls, we were arrested for attacking a Survey Corps officer. We were called lunatics, psychotics, for claiming to have seen a winged woman, and yet, here she is. We were right all along and none of the Survey Corps officers stepped forward to say it was wrong. To top it all off, when she came back, they sheltered her! Hid her with them and tried to pass everything off as normal.”

“From what I saw, (Y/N) (L/N) did not attack either of you,” Erwin said, cutting the two younger men off from continuing with their ranting diatribe. His tone was sharpened ice and his voice was filled with venom, waiting to strike like a snake in the shadows with barely suppressed fury. (Y/N) felt a conflicting wave of pride, gratitude, and apprehension wash through her. She loved Erwin, he was a close friend of hers, but that sometimes made her forget how god damn scary he could be when upset.

“You boys seem to have forgotten that you two were not the only ones on the field that day. From what everyone else saw, (Y/N) performed a great service to save a comrade, exposing herself in the most vulnerable way possible to try to help us escape. To help you, escape. She never singled you out, never tried to approach you in any manner other than one of friendly disposition. She did knock you over with the power of her wings as you mentioned, but she only did that because you were standing too close to her in your attempt to capture her for yourself. She was just trying to fly away peacefully, and would not have left us on that battlefield if you had not ordered your men to charge and fire. Your imprisonment was valid, and your accusations are dramatized and inaccurate.”

(Y/N) closed her eyes as Erwin’s last word rang out. Her stomach was churning and she felt lightheaded, her heart conflicted with so many differing emotions at once. She was grateful for Erwin and the Survey Corps, her friends who were fighting for her, fighting for her future, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she didn’t deserve them and their efforts. While she hated to admit it, the men from the Garrison weren’t wrong. She had spent years hiding her wings away, failing to save her comrades because of her fear, watching as they were devoured when the faster speed of her wings possibly could’ve saved them. Her head drooped a little as the men in front of her fought. Could she even call herself a soldier? A scout? Did she deserve to fight alongside them? Did she deserve… Levi?

She sucked in a shuddering breath, willing the tears to stay back. Maybe she did deserve to be nothing more than an animal to be viewed in a cage. Something to be gawked at and displayed like some kind of trophy. Could she even be considered human? She was so abnormal, so fucked up, mentally and physically. How could she possibly be considered safe enough to be around those she cared about?

Just as she was about to succumb to the notion of her worthlessness, a sharp, deep voice made her eyes snap open and glance to her left where her lover was standing steadfast beside his commander, his silver eyes burning like molten iron.

“Now listen here, all of the claims you have made so far have been either disproven or provided with solutions. (Y/N) has been nothing but the most amazing soldier, dutifully working to take care of everyone around her and constantly fighting for a better world. Just because you fuckwads can’t get your heads out of your asses long enough to see it, doesn’t mean it’s not true. (Y/N) was faced with an incredibly tough decision in her life, and she’s been forced to deal with it ever since she was born. She is just human. Simply, wonderfully, human, and there is nothing wrong with the choices she made,” Levi said, making (Y/N)’s eyes water with the love she felt for the raven-haired man.

“I know she will continue to be a necessary asset for the Survey Corps, where she can keep doing what she knows how to do best. If we lock her up in some manor to be cooed at by nobles, we will be lost. For god’s sake we have to deal with Jaeger every day and she’s significantly less of a threat than he is, but has twice the amount of usefulness to us.”

“Oh, as if that little experiment is going so well,” the MP said with a sneer. “The Survey Corps got custody of that one and look what’s happened? Cities destroyed, people lost. Captain Levi, your own squad got brutally murdered by an abnormal on an expedition because that titan shifter was too useless to do anything to help you. If we let you take custody of this one as well, we fear that the odds of humanity winning this war will shift further downwards. The fate of every human within these walls is in the hands of the Survey Corps soldiers. The last thing your branch needs is another distraction, or in better terms, a mistake.”

(Y/N) winced at the insult, her body flooding with icy fear as murmurs of agreement floated through the crowd. She knew she should’ve expected this possibility, had even reminded herself of the fact when Erwin left to tell the Premier about her existence earlier that week. She had known from the moment she had agreed to reveal herself publicly and use her gifts in battle to fight the titans and save her friends that this could happen. She could be turned against, experimented on, taken back to a cage and locked up, just as she had spent most of her early life. But even knowing about it didn’t stop the anger, the fear from filling her from head to toe, making her shift nervously on the wooden platform. She wanted to speak, wanted to say something to counteract what the Military Police were claiming, but she kept her mouth shut, knowing it was for the best. If she started talking now, fueled by her emotions, after spending the entire time staying quiet, it would look as if she was becoming desperate, trying to hide something. And with how hard Levi and Erwin were fighting for her, the last thing she wanted to do was ruin everything by opening her stupid mouth.

Levi and Erwin were about to retort when the Premier held up his hand, his eyes closed as he waited for the room to settle down again. The room quickly hushed. (Y/N) waited, her entire body tense as she stared up at the Premier, her heart thumping so loudly she was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

Everything will be fine.

“Based on the claims made by both parties, I have come to a decision on where the defendant shall be placed until further notice,” Zackley said.

I won’t let them take you away from me.

“While both parties have put forth compelling arguments, I can not determine whether or not bias or deceit is at play here on either side. It is because of this that I have decided to put you in the place that I believe would be the safest for humanity should things take a turn for the worst.”

No matter what, we are in this together, wings and all.

“(Y/N) (L/N), I am officially placing you under the custody of the Military Police, where you will be kept and cared for until I can find the proper evidence to prove your innocence.”

I love you.

(Y/N) felt her world shift. She heard Levi’s roar of fury, Erwin’s sharp voice ringing out into the hall as he tried to reason with the Premier, Hanji’s screech of shock and anger, but no words registered. The Military Police. Anything but the Military Police. She wanted to struggle against her binds, wanted to roar and scream and snap, wanted to stretch her wings and fly away, far away, just her and Levi together. But she couldn’t do that. She hung her head, unable to hold back the tidal wave of tears this time as they slid down her cheeks in clear rivers, running down her soft skin to splatter on the floor beneath her.

She could practically hear the smirk in the MP’s voice as he thanked the Premier and barked orders at his assembled soldiers to grab her. She wanted nothing more than to slap that smug grin off his face but she knew she couldn’t. She forced herself to take deep breaths as she felt hands rain down on her, touching her, dragging her, chaining her.

When she was finally unhooked from the steel post in the center of the room, the Military Police soldiers holding her tightly between them, dragging her towards the door, (Y/N) managed to look up. She caught Levi’s eye from where he was being held back by both Erwin and Hanji, the sorrow and desperation in those stunning gunmetal hues making her heart shatter. She didn’t know when she’d see him again, if she ever would see him again. And even if she was granted the opportunity to see him, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold him, kiss him, love him like she always did.

Even though her heart was being ripped to shreds, (Y/N) managed a watery smile in his direction, her lips moving to mouth the words, “I will see you again, I promise,” to him. She saw him stand a little straighter, a glint in his eye as he took her words to heart. She just knew that he was going to do everything in his power to make that happen.

No matter what, we are in this together, wings and all.

(Y/N) kept her eyes on him as she was led back through the large wooden doors of the courtroom, refusing to look away from her lover until the doors had completely shut behind her, officially separating her from the love of her life.

87 notes · View notes

221bsunsettowers · 3 years

Text

Buck/Eddie: I Can’t Get Enough of This Kind of Love (Part 2 of the Good News on My TV Screen Buddie AU series)

In just a few days, Buck has been in his second helicopter crash, been rescued by his boyfriend and their friends, witnessed people almost dying at a bug eating competition and the largest charley horse possibly ever, seen a woman with a high heel through her face at a child's beauty pageant, and had his beloved Eddie tell him he loves him for the very first time while tripping on laced brownies.

So there's that.

In which news reporter Buck is an integral part of the events from the episode 2x06 "Dosed".

(Amazing fanart poster by the amazing @jemmalynette! )

(Thank you so much to everyone who left love and kudos and comments for the first story in this series! In my head, the first story was a one and done that I had a lot of fun writing, and then all the requests to make this a series inspired me to do exactly that!

If you haven’t read the first story in the series, I would recommend doing that first, so you get the background of news reporter Buck and firefighter Eddie, and how they first meet and get together. You can read the first story here )

I Can’t Get Enough of This Kind of Love (can be read on Ao3 here)

Carefully placing the box labeled Dishes on the kitchen counter, Eddie immediately went back outside, bending down to grab the next box. "You really want me to like you, don't you?" Maddie's voice came from behind, and Eddie spun around, meeting her stare with a hopeful smile.

"Honestly, Maddie, I really like your brother, so yes please," Eddie answered promptly, and Maddie's gaze softened. She stepped forward, and patted Eddie on the shoulder as she walked past him and into her new home.

"Excellent answer!" Maddie called back, and Eddie felt arms wrap around him from behind. He leaned back into his boyfriend's embrace, smiling as Buck planted a kiss behind his ear.

"Evan!" Maddie yelled out the window, "you can make googly eyes at your boyfriend later, he wants me to like him and my furniture isn't going to move itself!" She smirked as Buck blushed and walked over to the couch, bending his knees and grabbing one end as Eddie dutifully grabbed the other.

"Googly eyes, maybe when you stop making googly eyes at Chim," Buck muttered under his breath, and Eddie laughed as they moved in tandem up the stairs.

"I'll tease Chim relentlessly at work if that helps," Eddie promised with a wink, and Buck grinned mischievously, nodding his head.

"We've got a helicopter crash, a news station was doing a traffic report," Bobby explained as the fire truck screeched to a stop and everyone quickly hopped out. Eddie noticed the rest of his team shooting worried glances at him, but he waved them off with a grateful smile.

"Buck never does the traffic reports," Eddie assured them, as Bobby called them into a quick huddle. "He told me he paid those dues a few news stations ago."

"Um, Eddie?" Chimney said hesitantly, facing the helicopter and extending a finger to point at the back window. Turning, Eddie met Buck's gaze, could see from even this distance how he was working hard to keep his breathing even and his body still.

"Fuck," Eddie breathed out, feeling his heart stutter in time with the still-spinning rotors.

"Eddie, you going to be okay on this one?" Bobby asked softly, laying a comforting hand on Eddie's shoulder.

"Buck needs me, Cap, I'm on it," Eddie promised, forcing his focus onto the job at hand. "We need to watch for dynamic rollover, when we start getting them out the weight of the copter could shift."

"Okay, Chimney, you're going to pull Buck out first, make sure you're keeping an eye on the balance," Bobby ordered as they moved towards the helicopter.

"Eddie, can you shut down the helicopter?" Eddie opened his mouth, about to argue that he should be the one to get Buck out, but then he sighed, nodding, knowing he needed to trust his captain to get Buck out of there quickly and safely.

Still, Eddie couldn't keep his eyes off Buck, lunging forward as the helicopter rocked, but then Chimney had Buck back on solid ground, and Eddie was next to the pilot, stabilizing the balance and shutting off the engine. The second he had the pilot out and in Hen's capable hands, Eddie spun around and grabbed Buck in his own grasp, pulling him into his arms.

Eddie gripped onto the back of Buck's shirt, tugging his body as closely as possible. Buck nestled his face into the crook of Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie swayed them gently from side to side, pressing his lips against Buck's temple. "You're safe, sweetheart," Eddie murmured into Buck's skin. "I've got you."

He could feel Buck nodding and pulled back just enough to see Buck's face, running a gentle finger over a small cut on his boyfriend's cheek. "Let me check you out," Eddie insisted, leading Buck over to a bench and kneeling in front of him.

"You can check me out any time," Buck bantered back with a mischevious smile, and Eddie laughed, shaking his head as he squeezed Buck's hand.

"Sounds like he's just fine!" Chimney called out with a smile, patting Buck's shoulder as he made his way over to where the pilot was sitting.

"No comments about how you're hotter than just fine, or how much you like me kneeling in front of you," Eddie commanded, pointing a finger at Buck, who shrugged and grinned, Eddie smiling back in relief. "You scared the shit out of me," Eddie whispered, leaning in to cup Buck's face in his hands, laying a soft kiss on his lips. "Let me make sure you're okay, please?"

"Yeah," Buck whispered back, resting his forehead against Eddie's, "yeah, of course." Pulling out his penlight, Eddie shined the beam into Buck's eyes.

Nodding in satisfaction, he took Buck through the rest of concussion protocol, checked for any other injuries, and cleaned out the small cut and bandaged it. Next to him, Chimney and Hen were finishing checking the pilot, assuring Buck he was completely fine.

"What were you doing on traffic anyway?" Eddie asked, sliding up to sit next to Buck, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Buck leaned into Eddie's side.

"Oliver called in sick last minute, so I offered to sub in," Buck answered, sighing in relief as Eddie moved a hand to the back of Buck's neck, rubbing at the tense muscles. "I definitely didn't expect to be in my second helicopter crash." As Eddie's hand suddenly stilled at Buck's words, Buck bit his bottom lip, meeting Eddie's wide-eyed gaze. "If it helps, I clearly survived that one too?" he offered up hesitantly, and he heard poorly-concealed laughter coming from the rest of the team's general direction.

"Can't say I didn't know what I was getting myself into," Eddie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, before leaning in to kiss Buck softly. "Let's try to keep helicopter crashes off the agenda, yeah?"

"No subbing in for traffic again or chartering a romantic copter ride for the two of us, got it," Buck recited with a smirk, and Eddie rolled his eyes, nudging Buck in the side before hopping off the bench.

"Any chance I could get you to come back with me to the fire station so I can keep an eye on you?" Eddie asked hopefully.

"I would love that, but I have to get back to work," Buck said ruefully, gesturing at the news van that was already pulling up.

Eddie sighed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Buck's. "Text and call me when you can, please? Just let me know you're doing okay?"

"Of course," Buck promised, sneaking another quick kiss in before heading towards the van. Grabbing the door handle, he turned around. "Be safe out there, babe! And thanks guys!"

Eddie had gotten a myriad of selfies from Buck in the hours after the helicopter rescue. One at his desk, captioned I promise I'm watching out for papercuts. Another getting ready to go in front of the camera, Taking proper electrocution prevention steps. The pictures continued rolling in, Eddie laughing fondly at each one, saving them to his photos because he couldn't resist. Any picture of his boyfriend was one he wanted to have, even when said boyfriend was being a glorious little shit.

His phone trilled out "Breaking News!" again and Eddie quickly clicked on the new picture, a smile spreading across his face as the photo revealed Buck standing in front of the fire station, captioned Practicing fire safety. Shoving his phone in his pocket, Eddie hurried down the stairs, skipping the bottom step in his haste.

"Surprise!" Buck called out with a grin, hurrying forward to meet Eddie, throwing his arms around his boyfriend's neck before leaning in for a kiss. Eddie's arms looped around Buck's waist as he held him close, both men smiling broadly.

"This is a great surprise," Eddie proclaimed, brushing a curl of hair away from Buck's eye. "Did a story fall through?"

"Actually, a new story came up," Buck grinned, grabbing Eddie's hand and interlacing their fingers. "C'mon, let's go upstairs, I want to talk to everybody about it."

"Hey Buck!" Chimney met the two at the top of the stairs, grabbing Buck's hand and pulling him in for a quick hug. "Since we have a chance now, what kind of wine does your sister like best? I'm going over to help her move more of her stuff after work."

"Red, and make sure you bring some popcorn too," Buck answered with a wink, patting Chimney on the shoulder. "Maddie could eat popcorn all day every day and be very happy about it."

"Thanks!" Chimney called back as Buck made his way around the kitchen, greeting everyone else before moving to the coffee maker. Placing a filled mug in front of Eddie, Buck sat down holding his own mug (the one Eddie had brought from home for Buck to use whenever he visited the fire station). Leg brushing against Eddie's, Buck took a sip of coffee.

"Before I say anything else, I just want to make sure you guys know you can absolutely say no to this," Buck began, meeting the eyes of everyone else around the table. "You don't have to give me a reason, and I won't take any offense, I promise." Turning to Eddie, Buck interlaced their fingers. "Including you babe, okay?"

Waiting until everyone had nodded, Buck continued. "My boss knows I'm dating someone from the 118, and after that helicopter rescue this morning, he came to me and told me he wants a story done on a day in the life of the LAFD heroes of the 118. I told him I have to be the one to do it, because I don't want anyone else twisting up the story in any way, and that you guys have to be okay with it or it isn't happening."

There was silence for a minute, and then Bobby spoke. "You know, normally I would absolutely say no to this," he said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair, "because a reporter could get in the way, could create their own narrative that has nothing to do with the truth, or could even use someone's pain or cause harm themselves. But Buck, you also know I trust you. I believe that you will do this truthfully and put the safety of others above the story."

"I will, absolutely Bobby," Buck vowed, blushing at Bobby's words. "I would never spin anything to make you guys look bad, and I would never put anyone in danger or show them suffering, I promise."

"Of course you wouldn't," Eddie said proudly, slinging an arm around Buck's shoulders and pulling him in close. Buck beamed up at him, leaning into his side.

"We all trust you, Buck," Hen said, and Chimney nodded, and Buck smiled bashfully, glancing down at where his and Eddie's fingers were now intertwined on Eddie's thigh.

"So it's okay to start tomorrow?" Buck asked hesitantly, and Bobby let out a gentle laugh, nodding.

"Absolutely, Buck, we'll see you then," Bobby responded, just as the alarm sounded, and the rest of the team leapt to their feet.

"I especially like the part where you'll be at work with me all day," Eddie grinned, leaning in for a quick kiss, which Buck eagerly returned.

"Me too," Buck grinned back, squeezing Eddie's hand before letting go. "Stay safe, sweetheart."

The next day saw Buck arriving hand in hand with Eddie, each balancing a carryout tray of coffees in their free hand. "You know we already love you two, right?" Hen teased, plucking the coffee with her name on it from the tray and taking a grateful sip. "But please feel free to keep the caffeine coming."

"I'm ready for my close up!" Chimney announced, dramatically leaping into the room, arms flourished. He grinned as everyone laughed, before taking his coffee as well.

"Since you're so ready, Chim, why don't you come for your interview first?" Buck gestured downstairs, eyes twinkling mischeviously as Chimney followed him. "We can start with you telling the story about how you got your nickname..."

By the time the round of interviews was over, Buck was near tears. He would swear he heard his cameraman sniffing as well. Every story the 118 had told him had broken his heart and lifted him up, all at the same time, and when his friends and boyfriend shared what were the best things about being a part of the 118, Buck was honored all over again that they had welcomed him into their family.

A sudden alarm jolted Buck out of his emotions and back into the present, and he quickly followed the team as they raced towards the fire truck and flung themselves in, settling into their seats. "You mean I can't just ride on your lap?" Buck pouted teasingly, as he ran to the driver's side of the news station van.

"You've taken a ride on my lap plenty of times, Buck," Eddie murmured into Buck's ear, "and I'm sure we can arrange another ride when we get home tonight." Smirking, he planted a quick kiss on Buck's lips before joining the others in the truck.

"You gorgeous bastard!" Buck yelled at Eddie's retreating back, Eddie's snort of laughter making Buck smile as he buckled his seatbelt and started the car.

"Whoa!" Buck's jaw dropped as he took in the crowd, and particularly the monitor lizard, in front of them. "Did you know monitor lizards have long forked tongues just like snakes?"

"Ah, a fan!" the woman nearest the lizard exclaimed, clapping her hands as Chimney darted out of the way. "His name is Claude, and the winner gets to take him home. Do you want to give it a try?"

"I'm okay over here, thanks," Buck responded quickly, as he took in the rest of the scene before him, namely the man struggling to breathe. As the 118 made their way over to the man, Buck made sure he and his cameraman stayed out of the way.

Chimney and Hen both flinched as they knelt down beside the man. Buck had the cameraman swing the camera away as soon as he realized the patient was in clear medical distress, instead having him film the other competitive eaters at the table, which unexpectedly included the woman with live cockroaches crawling back up out of her mouth.

As the man began breathing again (and consequently began throwing up live crickets), the camerman got footage of the saved patient and the 118 loading him into the ambulance. "Did you know Joey Chestnut once ate seventy four hotdogs in ten minutes?" Buck piped up eagerly, and Eddie grinned, giving Buck a quick peck on the lips as he hurried towards the truck.

"You are so smart, babe," Eddie said proudly, Buck beaming as he slid back into the driver's seat of the van.

"Even live bugs erupting out of people's mouths can't turn you two off from kissing, huh?" Chimney called out as he started up the ambulance. Eddie shook his head, offering Chim a proud grin and a wink as he drove off.

After rescuing a body builder from the largest charley horse anyone there had ever seen, the fire truck and news van pulled back into the station, Buck hopping out to join the 118 as they headed towards the kitchen.

"You did good, kid," Bobby said with a smile, squeezing Buck's shoulder as he passed. "You put the people above the story." Buck ducked his head, blushing, as he did a pleased little hop on his way towards Eddie.

"He's right, babe," Eddie grinned, tugging Buck into his side, planting a kiss to the top of his head. "Just like the day we met."

"Thanks, baby," Buck said with a bashful grin, turning his head to steal another kiss from his boyfriend, before squeezing his hand and pulling away. "I've got to get in a call to Taylor and give her an update before the next call."

"I'll be waiting on the couch," Eddie promised, and Buck winked at him before striding away, already pulling his phone out as he headed towards the bench right outside the station.

"Want a brownie?" Hen asked Eddie as she walked over, holding out the last brownie on the plate.

"Thanks, I'm starving," Eddie answered, grabbing the brownie and taking a bite. "Are there more treats on the table for Buck? He's just calling in to his boss."

"There are plenty of delicious snacks left," Hen promised as she settled into a chair. "Just not any more of these between you, me and Bobby."

"As long as there's sugar," Eddie laughed, looking fondly over towards Buck, who had now hopped up onto the bench and was skipping back and forth across it as he talked into his phone.

The next call brought them all to another unexpected venue, this time a child beauty pageant. "Is that..." Buck asked, trailing off as he stared at the reason the 118 had been called.

"A woman with a high heel stuck in her face?" Chimney responded, shaking his head as they made their way towards her. "Yes, yes it is."

The little girls were all swarming around Buck, who had crouched down immediately and was now occupied giving out smiles and high fives to the giggling children. So it took him a bit to notice that Eddie and Hen were definitely not acting like themselves. Eddie was staring down at the kids surrounding Buck with a look of shock and some terror too, his eyes wide and his body frozen.

"Eds, you okay there?" Buck asked, carefully rising to his feet and laying a hand on Eddie's arm.

"Are we giants, Evan?" Eddie asked, dragging out every syllable, before getting distracted for a minute trying and failing to see his own tongue. "Or are these the tiniest ladies ever?"

"Um, they're definitely kids, babe," Buck responded, eyes squinted in confusion even as he couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Your hair is glowing," Eddie breathed out in awe, holding his hands out over Buck's curls. "It's making my heart warm." Buck blushed, reaching for Eddie, who just kept making grabby hands at Buck's head. Buck quickly gestured to his cameraman to stop filming, before turning to Chimney.

"Hen's doing it too," Chim answered, just as confused, as he finished up with the injured woman and watched her be taken out on a gurney. Both men turned to see Hen poking a balloon, giggling with delight each time it bounced back at her.

"They are definitely tripping," Athena said matter-of-factly, coming up from behind them, having finished putting the high heel attacker in handcuffs. Hen hurried up, beaming as she took in Athena's face before delightedly informing her she smelled like love. Athena calmly nodded her thanks before radioing in for RA backup.

"The brownies," Chim said suddenly, turning to Athena. As Athena pressed him for more information, Buck heard Eddie start loudly crying, and ran to his boyfriend's side.

"I don't like this," Eddie blubbered as a police officer gingerly handcuffed him.

"Hey, hey sweetheart, it's going to be okay, I promise," Buck promised, cupping Eddie's face in his hands reassuringly, Eddie leaning into the touch. "Just breathe, I've got you."

Eddie sucking in air and puffing out huge dramatic breaths was definitely a sight Buck was tucking away for later, to tease his boyfriend with when it wouldn't make Eddie start crying more. Athena shook her head and sighed, exchanging a fondly exasperated look with Buck before explaining to Eddie and Hen what had happened.

"We don't want you to hurt yourselves or anyone else," Athena finished, as Hen was beginning to reach for her for another sniff and a hug.

"Yeah, yeah I like that idea," Eddie choked out. As Athena helped guide them towards the door, the backup RAs rushing in, Eddie tugged back towards Buck.

"I've got you, let's get you somewhere you feel safe," Buck said gently, squeezing Eddie's arm in reassurance.

"I love you, beautiful Buck," Eddie whispered into Buck's ear, before planting a sloppy kiss on Buck's cheek and letting himelf be led away, a stunned Buck following silently behind him.

Stumbling out of the bunkroom a few hours later, Eddie blinked at the bright lights, sighing gratefully as Buck pressed a large glass of water into his hands. After Eddie downed the entire glass without stopping, Buck refilled it and joined Eddie on the couch.

"Are you feeling okay now?" Buck asked softly, as Eddie placed the now-empty second glass on the table and leaned his head onto Buck's shoulder.

"Just got a headache, dry mouth, and an overwhelming sense of humilation," Eddie huffed out, burying his face in Buck's shirt. "I can't even imagine what came out of my mouth."

"You don't remember, huh?" Buck sighed softly, and Eddie quickly lifted his head to look at him.

"Buck, please don't tell me I said something horrible to you," Eddie said quickly, grabbing at Buck's hands. "I was out of my mind, I had no idea what I was saying."

"That's what I was afraid of," Buck mumbled, staring at the floor. Eddie tugged at his hands until Buck looked at him again, and Eddie's eyes grew wise as he took in the pained look on Buck's face. Reluctantly, Buck pulled away before responding. "Eddie, you told me you love me."

"Shit, that's what I was afraid of," Eddie sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. The whimper that slipped past Buck's lips, the sharp intake of shaky breath, and the footsteps quickly retreating had Eddie snapping his head back up, yelling "Buck!" as he saw his boyfriend's back moving further and further away.

Sprinting, Eddie reached out and grabbed Buck's hand, planting his feet and refusing to budge an inch as Buck tugged half-heartedly. "Eddie, please," Buck whispered, fixing his gaze on the floor. "I can't watch you walk away, okay?"

"And you think, what, that I want to watch you walk away instead?" Eddie was fully aware how much of himself he was putting on display, but he kept going, fingers under Buck's chin to tilt his head up and meet his eyes. "I meant I didn't want the first time I said it to be while I was out of my mind on laced brownies surrounded by tiny beauty queens."

"Wait, Eddie, what..." Trailing off, Buck's breath hitched, his wide watery eyes staring into Eddie's.

"Turn the camera on," Eddie said firmly, gesturing to where the cameraman had left his equipment while he went to grab food with the crew. Buck opened his mouth, but Eddie gently lay a finger across his lips, shaking his head. "Please trust me, and turn the camera on. Point it right at me."

Buck nodded, shaky, picking up the camera and resting it on his shoulder, turning so the lens faced Eddie, who was now sitting down on the couch. As soon as the light switched on, Eddie looked straight into it. "You once asked me what was the best thing about being a firefighter with the 118," Eddie said, voice strong even as he wiped the fresh tear on his cheek. "And I said it was the comradery, that that was what I missed from being in the military, and I had found it here, again, with this team."

Lacing his fingers together, Eddie rested his chin against his knuckles, keeping his gaze focused on Buck, who appeared frozen, all breath and words caught up in his throat, eyes glued on Eddie's face. "But that's not true. I do care deeply about the people here, the family I chose, but that's not the best thing about being a firefighter here."

"Then what is?" Buck whispered, hands gripped so tight around the camera his knuckles had turned white.

"The best thing is that I met the love of my life," Eddie said, making sure his voice was loud and clear, that both the camera and Buck couldn't miss a single word. Eddie shrugged helplessly, letting out a watery laugh as he bit his bottom lip. "This gorgeous man refused to air someone else's pain to gain viewers, and suddenly I was watching the news way more than I ever had before, just to see his face and learn his name. Turned out his name is Evan Buckley. And he's the bravest, smartest, kindest man I've ever known. And I am so, so in love with him."

Buck sniffled loudly, and Eddie knew his own voice and face were full of the degree of emotion he only ever really showed around his son...and now around Buck. There wasn't any point in fighting it, especially not if it ever made Buck doubt how much he was loved.

"So Buck, you can use this video in the story, you can keep it for yourself if you ever need a reminder of how very loved you are, you can do whatever you want with it. I know I don't always say how I feel, and I'm sorr-" His words cut off on a surprised huff as Buck suddenly put down the camera and ran to the couch, bouncing onto the cushions and tackling Eddie onto his back, immediately wrapping his arms around him.

"I love you too, Eds, so much," Buck sniffled, wiping at his eyes, "and if this is you keeping your emotions hidden, I don't think I would survive having you turn them on full force." Eddie laughed, grinning up at Buck full force, before reaching up and pulling him down into a slow, tender kiss, one that Buck eagerly reciprocated.

When the special on the 118 aired, Eddie and Buck watched it snuggled up on the couch with Christopher, all three in their pajamas and surrounded by empty pizza boxes and popcorn bowls. Christopher giggled and clapped his hands every time he saw his dad, and patted Buck's cheek with a grin every time he heard one of Buck's voiceovers play over the images on the screen.

The special concluded with a montage of the 118, all explaining why they joined the station and what it meant to them. Eddie heard his sound bites about the military and comradery interspersed with the others, before the camera focused in on him again. "The best thing is that I met the love of my life," Eddie heard himself say, the image on screen changing to a video clip of Eddie hard at work on the scene of a car crash, the very first day and the very same place he and Buck had met.

"The best thing is that I met the love of my life too," Buck's voiceover rang out over the footage, before the video faded out to a wideshot of the fire station. "And he is a hero, surrounded by heroes. The 118 never hesitate, never put their safety over the well being of others. They spend long days and nights in harrowing conditions, helping people through horrific experiences, and these brave men and women never ask for anything but to know where the next emergency is. We all owe the dedicated members of the 118 far more than we may ever know. So next time you pass by a fire station, think about saying thank you, even though they will never ask you to."

Eddie couldn't stop smiling, pressing kiss to Buck's temple, who grinned up at him from where he was nestled into Eddie's side.

The video shifted to one of Buck, hanging off the fire truck by one hand, grinning mischeviously. "Just please, please don't bring brownies. Try a nice gift card instead. Trust me on this. This is Evan Buckley, signing off, thank you for watching."

Eddie's laughter rang out over the closing credits.

If you would like to be added to my Buddie fanfiction taglist and/or my Good News on My TV Screen taglist specifically, just let me know!

@dancer-me @buddie-buddie @perfectlynervousbeard @i-had-bucky

23 notes · View notes

writing-red · 4 years

Text

The Emerald Manor | 5

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: It’s their sixth year, Draco and the reader are placed in an arranged marriage by their pureblood families, expected to follow through they navigate their feelings for each other amongst the many other social pressures at Hogwarts.

Warnings: major themes of physical and verbal abuse, maternal body shaming, nasty parents, mommy issues, daddy issues, jokes about suicide, I may even be missing some things

Word Count: 11k

A/N: self care is important if these warnings may trigger you please consider that chapter carries heavy themes, take care of your brain <3 also this is the longest thing I’ve ever written, she’s a beast

‘You and Draco shall be traveling from Hogwarts directly to Malfoy Manor. Since you will be meeting his parents before you see your father and I, I demand that you look presentable and remember the manners I’ve taught you. Your father and I will meet you at Malfoy Manor the night you return from school for dinner. As you will be staying with the Malfoy’s for the entirety of the Holiday, I will pack and send the clothing I find suitable for you to wear throughout this visit.’

The words from your mother’s letter rang in your head as the train pulled into London. As much as you hated everything she was putting you through for the sake of blood purity and her social status, you did not wish to incur her wrath.

As you stepped off of the Hogwarts express and onto platform 9 3/4 on Draco Malfoy’s arm, you looked the part of the picture-perfect pureblood pairing. You were both matching in all black, your Gryffindor tie, and Gryffindor friends nowhere to be seen. If your mother were to see you, you could swear she would shed a tear. You were finally the young lady she had been grooming you to be since birth.

Draco led you out of King Cross Station to where a large black driverless carriage awaited both of you. Everything about the situation made you want to vomit off of the sidewalk and onto the street, but you took Draco’s arm as he helped you up the step and into the carriage. As hard as it was to admit it, you knew that Draco would be the safest person in your world for the next couple of weeks, and you would have to cling to that as hard as possible. You sat right next to him in the carriage, refusing to let go of his arm. You held his hand tightly in yours, reaching for any sense of security you could scavenge.

Draco knew you were afraid and that you would rather die than admit that to him, so instead of teasing or chiding you for it, he didn’t bother when you chose to sit next to him or when you refused to let go of him. He took the opportunity to make you feel safe. It’s all he’s really wanted to do anyway.

You had been to Malfoy Manor before, but it had been a while, every family takes turns hosting society events, and you were only ten the last time you attended one at the Malfoy’s. That had been the first year your mother had forced you into a corset, and that was about all you could remember about their estate. But when you rolled up to the gate, you wondered exactly how you could forget the lavish mansion. It was cold, looming, and dark, as was yours, the sharp wrought iron gates refusing entrance to anyone who didn’t make the cut. The stark white peacocks that stalked along the border of the estate offered more of a threat than any romantic reminder of nature, their cold eyes bored into as if to remind you that you would never fit in here.

Draco could feel anxiety rolling off of you as the carriage approached the manor, and he wanted with everything in him to cure it.

“Y/n,” he said in a whisper tone even though you were out of earshot from anyone who could be listening. “I know I haven’t been the best in the last month, but please know that I do care about you.” He could sense your disbelief. “I know you don’t believe me, I know that I haven’t given you a reason to, and I know that this doesn’t feel like the time. I’m sorry I don’t know how to say this. But, I am here for you through this. Please let me be.”

You knew that now wasn’t the time for an argument, that it wasn’t the time to ask why he hadn’t said this before you were walking in the doors of his house and not that morning in the courtyard when you had bared your heart to him, and he had ignored you, but as you were thinking, he interrupted you.

“Just nod, please, just show me that you understand,” he said, his tone desperate for some reason you couldn’t identify.

You nodded, maybe to placate him, or maybe, perhaps because this time you had heard him, even if it was just a little, it was enough to plant the prospect of trust.

“Alright,” he said and exited the dark, ornate carriage, offering his hand to you when he had landed on the ground.

You took his hand, more for emotional stability than physical. “Thank you, Draco,” you whispered into his ear, for his hand or his words from just moments ago, neither of you was sure.

Narcissa had been waiting for you outside of the entrance to the manor. She was clearly eager to see you and to see her son home from school.

“Mother!” Draco greeted, what seemed to be a genuine smile graced his face for just a moment. Narcissa took him in his arms and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. It was the briefest of interactions, but you could tell that she cared deeply for her son. “I know you have met her before, but this is Y/n, Y/l/n.”

“Yes,” her voice was kind and utterly elegant. “Darling, I haven’t seen you in years, you have grown into such a stunning young woman. Welcome back to our home.” Narcissa opened up her arms, and you welcomed the embrace, not remembering the last time you had received one from your own mother. You reveled in the short interaction even after she released you. “I am truly delighted to have you. And your mother sent your things yesterday, they are in your room.”

“Thank you for having me, Lady Malfoy. It is an honor to be invited into your home,” you said, speaking the words your mother had instructed you to say before.

“Please, call me Narcissa, there is no need for titles between us. And we are happy to have you,” she said, her features softening for a moment. “Now, come inside. I can’t risk you and Draco getting sick before the Holiday has even begun.”

You followed Draco and Narcissa inside through the grand doors. The room was filled by cold light flowing in through the grand windows framed by black curtains, most of the stone floor was covered by an ornate rug, and there were two black stairways curving to the same location of the second floor, which from its spot far above you provided its own dark mystery. The manor was anything besides inviting, even the silver and green Christmas decorations were distressing in their coldness.

“We will be meeting down here for drinks at 7 tonight,” Narcissa informed you and Draco. “Y/n, that’s when your parents will be arriving. So Draco dear, why don’t you show Y/n up to the room across from yours, and you two can clean up before dinner.”

Draco nodded and gestured for you to take his arm again. As you did, you turned to thank Narcissa once more. “Thank you again, ma’am.”

She cut you off before you could finish, “Narcissa dear, please, I won’t have you calling me Lady, ma’am, or anything of the sort.”

You nodded and smiled, “thank you, Narcissa.”

Draco led you up the set of stairs to the right side of the entrance and down a dark hallway lit only by the occasional candelabra. It reminded you much of your own house, a dark museum dedicated entirely to your family’s great pureblood history. Draco showed you to a black door at the end of the hallway, across from another black door and near the only window in the corridor.

“Well, this is your room,” he said, gesturing to the door he had shown you to. “Apparently, you’re across from me,” he said, referencing the door not three feet away from you.

“I’m sure there’s some sort of underlying meaning there,” you said, trying to lighten the tension.

A smile graced Draco’s lips for just a moment before falling back into its usual stone near-scowl.

“I have to admit that I’m glad you’re close-by,” you said, so quiet he could barely hear you, quietly enough it was as if you weren’t even admitting it.

Draco hid the joy that bubbled in his heart when you muttered those words. “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready for dinner. We should head back downstairs at five-till.” He advised, and you nodded before he disappeared into his room, the door closing behind him.

The room was more comfortable than you had imagined it to be, even more, comfortable than the one you had at home. The walls were covered in green tapestries depicting nature, a black fireplace with a fire roaring inside rested against the wall across from the four-post bed that had what looked like the softest comforter in the world and a plush bench residing at its foot. On the floor beneath your feet was a perfectly soft grey carpet that laid over dark wooden floors. On the wall that housed the fireplace stood another black door that was open and led to an intricate bathroom, inside of which was a closet. But what took your breath away was the wall covered in bookshelves and a vast collection of stunning books. You could even spy a few muggle authors, which surprised you.

If you could spend the entire Holiday in this room and not leave once, you would be content, although, as that sadly would not be your reality, you hauled yourself into the bathroom for a quick shower. You still felt sick to your stomach with nerves, and you were hoping that hot water would soothe you even just a bit. You didn’t spend long under the running water, nervous about the time, departing out of the shower, drying yourself, and stepping into the closet, you found a dark emerald green dress labeled ‘dinner, night one’ in your mother’s script, of course, she didn’t even trust you to pick out your own clothing. You drew the dress onto your body, holding your wand in your teeth as you willed magic to help you lace up the corset the way you knew your mother would expect it to look. You used the same guide for your hair and makeup, everything exactly as she would want, even though you were sure that you would find some way to fuck it up.

Just as you finished, you heard a soft knock land on your door. You opened the door to Draco, who was wearing a variation of the black suit you so often found him in, although you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly handsome he looked in it. And part of you didn’t want to stop staring at him. Part of you wanted to skip dinner and pull Draco into your room by his tie.

“Y/n, you look lovely,” he said kindly. “Emerald is a stunning color on you.”

“Thank you, Draco,” you said, a bit of blush rising to your cheeks. “You are quite handsome yourself.”

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“Will I ever be?” You said.

He didn’t have to verbally respond for you to know that he understood. He just offered your hand, led you back down the long dark hallway and down the stairs, which seemed steeper now that you were wearing heels. But Draco’s steady hand assured that you were ascending the stairs gracefully. You let out the breath you weren’t aware you had been holding in when you realized you had beat your parents to the first part of the evening. You could only imagine the lecture on tardiness your mother would be ready to deliver had you arrived after her.

“Darling, you somehow look even more beautiful than you did earlier,” Narcissa said when she caught sight of you. “Draco, did you tell your fiancée how lovely she looks this evening?” Narcissa asked, glancing at her son.

“It was the first thing I heard once I stepped out of my room,” you assured her, your cheeks reddening even more at the sound of her compliment.

“Good,” she said and smiled.

Impeccable timing as always your mother and father appeared in the Malfoy’s grand fireplace, your Mother and Father had clearly not spent a second thinking of anything but these two weeks for some time, they were both dressed perfectly for the event at hand, their sour faces completing their outfits.

“Layah, William,” Narcissa greeted them as old friends, which of course they were, your mother had been friends with Narcissa and Bellatrix back in their Hogwarts days, and your father was on many of the same boards as Lucius.

“Narcissa, thank you so much for having us and for inviting our daughter into your home,” your mother said, false kindness wrapping around her voice like a snake. “I hope she’s remembered her manners,” she shot you a glare, causing anxiety to roar in your stomach.

“Merlin, Layah, you’ve raised the perfect daughter! She’s been nothing but kind and pleasant since she arrived,” Narcissa assured her friend, not catching the look Layah had sent you. “This is my son Draco,” she gestured to Draco who was next to you, just across from her.

“Lord Y/l/n, Lady Y/l/n, it’s an honor to meet you again,” he said as he politely bowed his head now.

“Come now, let us start with drinks in the sitting room,” She said, showing the party into a somewhat smaller sitting room. The room was covered in silver, art, and luxurious furniture you were sure came from the 18th century, which was arranged perfectly for conversation. You found yourself sitting on a love seat with Draco on Narcissa's instruction, which didn’t surprise you much.

A house-elf came in and began handing out drinks as the conversation started, mostly between your mother and Narcissa, Draco, and your father. You didn’t mind being ignored. You simply held your glass tightly and tried to not be sick.

“So, Y/n, Draco tells me you’re a wonder at potions!” Narcissa said, startling you a bit as you weren't expecting to be drawn into the conversation.

“Well, Professor Snape has been a fantastic teacher, and I really spend most of my time at school studying anyways,” You could only think that if you were at the Burrow, Fred and George would be cackling at the lies you were boasting. You were more likely to spend time running around getting into trouble than study.

“She really just is modest, Mother,” Draco said. “She’s the reason I have such good marks in the class this term.”

You smiled sweetly, unsure otherwise of how to respond. It didn't help that you and Draco knew that Hermione was undoubtedly the best in your year, but that wasn't the point here.

“Darling, don’t sell yourself short. Coming from a family like yours, I am sure you are an incredible witch,” Narcissa said.

“Thank you, ma’am,” you said and gave her a respectful bow of your head, intent on displaying the manners you had been taught and that were expected of you.

“Now, Draco, I am curious what you wish to do once you leave Hogwarts,” Your father interjected. You could only presume that he was uncomfortable with the compliments being offered to you.

The conversation continued on, you remained mostly ignored, and as your drink refilled itself a second time, you found yourself feeling a bit more at ease. While you weren’t aiming to get drunk, you were trying to rid yourself of those pesky nerves eating at your stomach. As you calmed yourself, the house-elf returned to call the party to dinner. You silently reminded yourself to get her name when you could. You were sure she experienced nothing but cruelty here.

As you rose from the love seat, you were sure to remember all of the perfect ladylike manners your mother had been sure to instill in you. Taking Draco’s hand when he offered it and leaving your glass on its coaster, you would most likely be having wine with the meal, and it would be considered rude to bring along a dirty glass. You knew that you would never forget these stupid little societal rules no matter what happened with your life. You sat at the incredibly made-up dining table next to Draco, which you knew was intended to encourage you two to make conversation. After everyone was seated, conversation resumed, but it wasn’t until the second course arrived that your mother finally mentioned the wedding.

“Narcissa, I do believe you’ve landed on a date for this summer?” Layah asked.

“Yes, I thought that the 22nd of June would be lovely seeing that it’s the longest day of the year,” Narcissa said. “Y/n, what do you think?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed. Of course, nothing about this wedding was perfect, but you knew better than to oppose. “Summer is my favorite season, and the Summer Solstice has always been special to me.” What you were saying was true. You had always loved the heat, joy, and magic of the day.

“Lovely, we’ll work on getting out the necessary notifications this week,” Narcissa said, and you nodded.

“You two have made quite the match,” your father said to Layah and Narcissa. Of course, he would approve of Draco, he was everything William wished his son had been. “Y/n, I hope you realize how lucky you are.”

Underneath the table, you clenched your nails into your palm, breaking the skin on your hand as you tried to brush off your father's remark.

“I’m glad you approve, sir,” Draco said, dismissing his second statement.

Dinner continued on, snide remarks occasionally coming from your mother after you would speak, and constant praise to Draco from your father. However, Draco and Narcissa acted as a barrier of sorts from your parent's attacks, which made the whole thing just a little bit more bearable. When dinner ended, Draco and your father left to smoke, which was expected, and Narcissa invited you and your mother back to the sitting room for tea.

“Y/n, Layah, I was wondering what you were thinking for Y/n’s dress,” Narcissa asked as you sat back down on the loveseat.

“I did not have anything in mind,” your mother said.

“Well, my family has a very old tradition where the mother passes her dress down to her daughter,” Narcissa started.

“Oh, Narcissa, I’m sorry to say I don’t have my dress any longer.”

“See, the thing is I still have mine, which had, of course, belonged to my mother, her mother, and so on, and since I don’t have a daughter, I was wondering if you would like to wear it Y/n?” said Narcissa, sure to direct the question away from your mother and towards you.

“Narcissa, I would be honored!” You chirped, your face lighting just a bit with a genuine smile, the motherly love she had extended to you in the last seven hours was more than you had experienced in your life, and you would be happy to have a piece of her with you in the ceremony.

“Dear, I doubt it will fit,” your mother said to you, that evil faux smile on her lips.

“I’m sure it will!” Narcissa said, her excitement shining through her smile. “Anyways, isn’t that what magic is for, Layah?”

“Sure, Narcissa,” your mother drawled as she shot her friend one of those cold snake-like smiles. “Narcissa, would you mind if I stepped out with my daughter for a second?”

“No! Of course, I forgot you haven't seen her in so long, please stay here. I’ll go check in on the gentlemen,” she said and left swiftly.

You wanted to beg her to stay. You wanted to scream and cry and demand that she not leave you alone with your mother, but that would only end you in more trouble than you could possibly be in now.

“Merlin, Y/n, you’ve put on weight. Are you not exercising at school? Just because you’re betrothed doesn’t mean you stop taking care of yourself, foolish girl,” she said the second Narcissa was out of earshot.

“Sorry, mother,” you cast your eyes to the floor.

Your mother rose from her seat, she’s a tall woman with harsh features, and she loomed over you when she made her way over to the love seat.

“Stand,” she said, and you did so instantly and with grace. “I’ve been told that you’ve been acting decently for once in your pathetic life,” the witch said as she inspected you, from the way you tied your corset to the curls in your hair, you kept your eyes on the floor, staring at the tips of your shoes. Suddenly she grabbed your chin with as much force as you believe she possessed and drew your face up so that you would be forced to make and keep eye contact with her. “If you screw this up, I promise you will not live to see the Summer Solstice, do you understand me?”

You drew in a breath, which was a mistake, a sign of weakness.

She released your chin, and with the opposite hand struck you across the face. “I asked you a question, now answer it.”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand,” you said, and you drew your hand up to cover the red mark that was forming on your cheek: your skin prickling and a headache seeping into your skull from the force of the strike.

“Good,” she said as she brushed her hands off on her skirt as if to rid herself of any filth she may have picked up from you. “Your father and are leaving for work for the next few days, although we plan on returning Wednesday for lunch, stay about your wits until then. Am I understood?”

You nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”

With that, she swept out of the room, her expensive black dress accentuating her exit. As she left, Draco came in the way she had exited. Seeing you holding your cheek with your eyes cast to the ground, he hurried over to you in concern.

“Y/n, did anything happen?” he asked, his tone as rushed as his entrance.

You shook your head ‘no.’

“Darling-”

“Draco, I’m fine,” you hissed, dropping your hand and looking up at him. The mark from the strike remained, and he saw it clearly. You took a moment to calm yourself. But you couldn’t help but feel guilty for your harsh tone when you caught his eye, the same eyes you had agreed to trust, at least while you were here, “I'm sorry, I just wish to go to bed if you don’t mind.”

He shook his head to give you a silent, yes. He had only seen you act like this up close and personal once when he pissed you off just that past week, but even in that, you had a beautifully bold and courageous anger about you that seemed to spark cherry red. This was different. Of course, he had seen you at events when you were both young, but you hadn’t attended them in recent years, and you acted far differently at Hogwarts. Even around him and his friends, you were yourself, even when he sought ways to piss you off. He thought back to the playful banter you had with Blaise just this morning, which felt like ages ago, or the fire you spat at him when he invaded dinner at the Gryffindor table. Here, in the presence of your parents, you were in a state of survival and fear. He was finally starting to see why you had been so afraid of him and this whole marriage. To you, he embodied everything you were afraid of, everything that kept you from living your life in fear of it being taken away. Should you say the wrong thing, wear the wrong dress, or use the wrong fork, befriend the wrong person, it would cost you. You were someone else here. He recognized the look of fear you had when the silver letter landed between you two, that night of the party all the way back in September, and even that morning in the courtyard when he refused to hear out your fears, preferring to remain ignorant to his own petty feelings.

“Can I walk you up to your room?” He simply asked, now wasn’t the time to pry. He would have to prove to you that you could trust him, and that would take time.

You merely nodded and took his arm as it was offered to you. Draco showed you out of the room where your parents were all saying their goodbyes.

“You two should be heading up to bed now, especially after such a long day of traveling,” Narcissa noted.

“Yes, mother,” he said and gave polite nods to your parents. “Sir William, Ma’am, it was a pleasure getting to know you tonight. Thank you for joining us, and thank you for allowing Y/n to stay for the Holiday.”

“Please, Draco,” your mother started. “William and I are so often out of the house for work that she would have been alone most the time, and we can’t have that, can we?” She elicited a grotesque little giggle, to which everyone politely responded with smiles despite the thinly veiled insult.

You watched as your father took your mother's hand, “well goodnight Draco, Narcissa,” He said to the two, then his eyes landed on you, his tone shifting from polite to the one you were so used to hearing him use, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight, father, mother,” you said as they disappeared into the grand fireplace.

“Well, I won’t keep you two. I’m sure you need to sleep after today,” Narcissa said. “Goodnight, both of you.”

“Goodnight,” you and Draco said together before you parted ways, and Draco led you back up the set of stairs to your rooms. You released his arm and disappeared into the darkness without a word, the effects of the day settling heavily on your shoulders.

Sunday passed with little activity. You mostly took the day to explore the manor with Draco as Narcissa was busy running errands throughout the whole day. You were excited to find the library in the manor filled to the brim with old books. They were, of course, all wizard-written, although most of them seemed to have not been opened in a couple of generations. The fireplace alongside the comfortable leather chairs and the grand windows made it the perfect space to read. It seemed to be the only other comfortable room you found in the space. It was the last room Draco showed you on the extensive tour, and you both spent the rest of your day in the library. You went between reading and writing out details of your break thus far in letter format to your friends. You were hopeful that you may find the opportunity to sneak them out some way, and you didn’t want to forget a detail when you did get a chance to recount the events of your holiday. Draco, who sat across from you in his own chair, had a spread of books and charts along with a notebook that was clearly well used. You didn’t bother him with questions about what he was doing as you enjoyed the opportunity to sit in peace. In fact, it was the first time the two of you were able to occupy a space together without finding your way to one another’s throats.

Monday morning, you awoke on your own despite the darkness of the room. You took your time getting ready, allowing yourself to remain in the peaceful space as long as you could. You found a casual dress your mother had packed for you. Of course, there wasn’t a single pair of pants in sight. God forbid you have an ounce of comfort over these next two weeks. After you got ready, you realized you weren’t entirely sure of what you were meant to be doing or where you were supposed to be. You decided to walk downstairs and find breakfast. You made your way downstairs and through the maze of the house, through the dining room and sitting room till you finally reached the kitchen. Already inside was a house-elf, different from the one who had served dinner last night, hard at work cooking, and beyond him, you could see Draco sitting in a breakfast nook, eating. You slowly made your way over to him and took a seat across from him.

“Good morning,” you said as you sat down next to him.

“Good morning,” he said and smiled at you. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you. I just figured I’d let you sleep.”

You shook your head, “Don’t apologize. It was nice.”

“Are you hungry?” He asked, and you responded with a nod. Shortly a plate with toast, poached eggs, and fruit appeared right in front of you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly as you began to eat.

The two of you sat in silence as you both ate your breakfast, you didn’t have anything to say, and Draco didn’t know what to say. This lasted about fifteen minutes and was only interrupted by Narcissa entering the kitchen.

“I’m so glad you two are here,” she said when she saw both of you.

“Good morning, mum,” Draco said, and you echoed him.

“We are going to Diagon Alley today, and we are going to get both of you fitted so that Madam Malkin can start adjusting your clothes for the wedding,” she explained. “Then, I thought the two of you could get lunch in London once we were done.”

You and Draco nodded, “Sounds lovely,” you said.

“Perfect, we’ll leave in an hour,” Narcissa said, then left the kitchen, likely to prepare for the trip.

You were excited to go to Diagon Alley. You hoped you would be able to sneak into the twins' store and, at the very least, see Fred and George, who you missed dearly now that you hadn’t seen them in nearly a year now. You also figured that you would be able to sneak them your Although, you limited your expectations, not wanting to get your hopes up if you couldn’t make it. The hour passed quickly, and at precisely 11:23 in the morning, the three of you utilized the grand fireplace to floo to Diagon Alley. The whole place was cold, so many shops had been boarded up, lights were out in many shops, although you found a slice of joy when you saw the lights up in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. You didn’t have much time to look as Narcissa quickly whisked both of you into Madam Malkin’s. It wasn’t until you were inside that you noticed the large black garment bag Narcissa had been carrying, something you could only assume to be the dress she was passing on to you.

“Draco, you go run your errand first while Y/n tries her dress on,” Narcissa said before you even went in and he nodded, clearly not wanting to argue with his mother on this one. While you wanted to see where this errand was taking him, Narcissa turned you around and gently pushed you inside of Madam Malkin’s shop.

“Ah, Lady Malfoy! I’ve cleared out my whole afternoon for you two. I take it we have a very special project at hand,” Malkin said as you entered. “Give her here,” she said regarding the dress, which she indicated by holding out her arms.

Narcissa softly handed over the wedding dress. Madam Malkin hung it up on a nearby garment rack, unzipping the black bag revealing a stunningly elegant white gown in impeccable condition. “Let’s get this on you, dear,” she said, ushering you over, and you complied quickly.

It took both her and Narcissa to get the dress on you due to the sheer weight of the thing, but once it was on, it fit nearly perfectly. But Madam Malkin flitted around you, taking notes, making marks, poking you when you moved, and making suggestions to Narcissa about changes that would better accentuate your figure. You just stood there and let the two of them make the decisions. You didn’t feel that you had much of a stake in the wedding anyways. What more was the dress? Eventually, however, they separated you from the dress, Malkin placing it back in the garment bag and zipping it up so that when Draco returned, he wouldn’t see it, not that it mattered much. Your marriage had been doomed from the start.

“Dear,” she interrupted your thoughts. “I’ll schedule one more fitting with you when it’s done. Lady Malfoy was saying the wedding will be in late June?”

“Summer Solstice,” you said. “But Narcissa is doing most of the scheduling since I’m still in school, so it may be better to schedule the fitting with her.” You felt bad for deflecting, but you genuinely didn’t know much of anything going on with this event.

“Oh, of course, I’ll be sure to do that,” she said, and as you turned to leave, she stopped you. “I noticed you were quiet during the fitting, is there anything you’d like included in the dress? It is your wedding, isn’t it?”

“I love peonies,” you said, then turned to leave, not wanting to speak about the dress anymore, it playing to your anxieties for some reason. When you reached the front door of the shop, you were met by Draco and Narcissa, who had gone to retrieve him while you were changing. “I’m sure it’s just as bad for the bride to see the groom in his wedding ware,” you said to Narcissa. “Would you mind if I stepped out for a moment?”

“No, darling go right ahead,” she said, and as you exited, you caught Draco’s eyes. While you may have fooled his mother, you knew in that second you hadn’t fooled him. It was clear that he knew you pretty well, but you quickly made your way out of the shop and down the alley.

When you were sure they couldn’t see you, you slipped into a practically empty Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, devoid besides two quintessential red-heads.

“Y/n!” You heard Fred’s energetic and happy voice from the top of the shop.

“Come quickly, I haven’t long,” you urged, although instantly regretting your request as each of the twins apparated only a centimeter away from you on each side.

“What’re you doing here?” George asked.

“Getting Narcissa Malfoy’s old wedding dress fitted for my wedding,” you whispered as if you were worried that she could hear you.

“No,” the two whispered in unison, to which you nodded in confirmation.

“Draco is getting his robes fitted, and I used the whole bad omen thing as an excuse to sneak out. I just wanted to see you two,” you said. You had begun breathing easy again for the first time in twenty-four hours.

“We’re happy to see you, Y/n,” George said, all sense of humour aside.

You pulled four letters out of your pocket on the inside of your coat, “These are for you two, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione if you can get it to her.”

“Ron doesn’t get one?” Fred asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“I figured he and Harry would share I didn't have all that much time,” you answered. “I had ought to be going. Please send letters once I’m back at school I’ve missed both of you.”

“We’ll send you half the store-” George started

“-A care package,” Fred finished his thought, and you pulled the twins into a hug.

“Stay strong,” they said from either side of you.

“Stick to what you know is right,” Fred said.

“We know William would be proud of you,” George said. The twins had known your brother well since he had been a close friend of their older brother Bill's. William had been a Gryffindor as well, and he played quidditch alongside Bill. He had been the reason why doing something other than what your family had set out for you could even be perceived as an option.

“Thank you,” you whispered before disappearing out of the door. It was relieving to see them even for just that moment, and you were comforted when you noticed that Draco and Narcissa hadn’t ventured out of Madam Malkin’s just yet. You took the time you had left to rush into Flourish and Blott’s, a place they would expect to find you in. Of course, not long after you hurried in, Draco sauntered in, finding you in the potions section near the front of the store.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he said, not mentioning the look you had shared earlier, and you nodded.

“Call me predictable, but I do love books,” you again found yourself lying through your teeth.

“Well, my mother has returned to the manor. She expects us to go get lunch if you’re up to it.”

“Absolutely,” you said, the hesitance on your voice obvious.

“But?” He asked.

“Would you mind if we went and picked up a couple of pants, my mum didn’t pack me any, and I just really hate how cold my legs get in these dresses,” you said, gesturing to the dress and tights you were currently wearing.

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” he said, and you perked up a bit. “I just don’t know where to go.”

“I’ve got somewhere you’ll love,” you said, and being that money is of no consequence to either of you, you showed Draco to Bond St. somewhere you only knew of because of a shopping-obsessed cousin of yours.

You found it surprisingly amusing shopping at muggle stores with Draco. You were both well respected in the shops you entered, which you assumed him to appreciate, along with the clothes' general quality and style. You enjoyed picking out clothing for him, finding a particular oversized black turtleneck and tight slack duo a bit enticing.

Draco, while enjoying the fashion, also enjoyed seeing you loosen up. He was aware you had slipped into the Weasley’s shop, but it didn’t bother him as much now that he was able to see you relax just a little bit with him. Indeed he didn’t find it boring to watch you trying on incredibly beautiful clothing, and he loved sneaking money too whoever was helping you and surprising you with the purchase. At this point, he didn’t know how to express his love to you otherwise, and he wanted to do so; however, he possibly could.

This went on for longer than either of you anticipated, although it was more fun than tiring or boring. Eventually, once you had made it through your last store, you finally made it to the restaurant you had been meant to go to in the first place. It wasn’t long before you were seated, your many bags stowed in coat-check.

“I have to admit today’s been more, well, fun than I assumed it would be,” you said as you opened the menu.

“I’m glad,” Draco said, an unmistakably kind smile on his face.

A waiter came to your table relatively quickly, “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” you greeted kindly.

“I am afraid you will not be needing these menus as today you are being treated by the Chef,” the waiter informed as he collected the menus from you. “Any allergies we should be aware of?”

“None,” Draco said and smiled, “Thank you.”

“Of course, sir, I’ll be back shortly with drinks.”

“This really is lovely, Draco,” you said as you settled into your seat.

“Anything for you,” he said and smiled at you.

You couldn’t help but question him again for just a moment, was this more of that image you had promised to maintain, but there was no one to prove your relationship to. Could it be genuine, could it be that he lied to you that morning in the courtyard?

The dinner continued on in the same pleasant fashion as your day had. You and Draco exchanging banter as you had earlier. You both took your time with each other and with the evening, allowing yourselves for once to truly enjoy the other's presence. It helped that the food was incredible and the atmosphere utterly romantic. The lights dim, and the sound of sensual jazz playing live, allowing your senses to fizz along with the music like the champagne in front of you. At the end of the night, Draco didn’t even consider letting you pay, although you promised to get him back, which he believed. Being that the coat-check was run by a very kind witch, you didn’t have to worry about your bags.

“I guess we have to go back now,” you said, clearly not too happy about that fact as you both exited the restaurant as you made your way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

“Look, I know I haven’t been the best to you in the past, but I’m here for you. Alright? Whatever you need, I’ve got you,” Draco said, the sympathy in his voice still slightly jarring.

You reached out, took his hand, and smiled weakly. Not only were thoughts of your parents approaching lunch on your mind, but you were beginning to believe him. “Thank you, Draco.”

“You two must have had an eventful day,” She said, referring to the bags that arrived before you along with your late arrival time.

“I thought I’d take my girlfriend out on a proper date,” Draco said, placing a kiss on your cheek, causing a soft blush to rise up.

“Well, I’m glad you two had a good day,” Narcissa said and smiled.

“Yes, thank you for the suggestion,” you nodded.

“So, tomorrow, a wedding planner will be here to meet with Y/n and I for the full day,” she said to you. “So Draco, you can work on those errands we had spoken about.”

There were those errands you had heard mention so many times, which you found never failed to make Draco tense up.

“Alright, well, I’ll be off to bed. I was just waiting up to see you home safely,” Narcissa rose, closing her book as she left the room, the tea following her up the stairs.

You were left in the foyer with Draco, and neither of you were sure what to say.

“Well, it seems we both have another full day ahead of us,” he said after a moment of silence. “So, we should probably head upstairs.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” you nodded, still so close to him you were alarmed by the tension between you too.

“Today was nice,” he said. “I really enjoyed spending time with you.”

You nodded again. It felt like your brain was turning to mush as all you could smell was him, his musky cologne, and minty shampoo intoxicating. The darkness of the manor seemed to close around the two of you, lit only by the fire you were standing in front of.

“Let me walk you up to your room,” Draco said, offering you his hand, which you kindly took, escorting you to your door, departing once you disappeared inside.

As you got ready for bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Here he was again, soft, kind, and caring, and so incredibly confusing. A part of you loved being around him, joking with him, throwing playful insults back and forth, and merlin you couldn’t get over his cologne or how badly you wanted to run a hand through his perfect platinum blonde hair. But another part of you couldn’t help but see the cruel bully who didn’t mind making your life as hellish as possible, who didn’t think twice before shouting your private life out for the entire school to hear, and you couldn’t help but question whether or not everything he said to you was a lie or was the truth. Not to mention those mysterious meetings and errands. Eventually, your busy mind found sleep, although you found yourself shooting awake every so often due to terrible nightmares. You couldn’t sort them out but images of your father standing over you while you sat in a pool of your own sharp red blood, a sea of well-dressed purebloods at your wedding with Voldemort looming over you and Draco. Every time you awoke, you were nervous that you had awoken Draco. Although you had no evidence, you had awoken the other girls in your dorm with your screams more than a few times in the past six years.

You awoke, absolutely exhausted from the sleepless night, but you dragged yourself out of bed, wanting not to be late for your appointments with Narcissa and the wedding planner, although, after yesterday, you were sure that the two of them would be making most of the decisions while you looked pretty and nodded in agreement on topics that made you feel sick. You donned a perfectly simple yet elegant black dress and headed downstairs in the hope of finding breakfast and, more importantly, tea. You found Draco sitting in the same spot you had found him in yesterday and the day before eating a green apple.

“Good morning,” you greeted as he swallowed the bite he had just taken.

“Good morning. Did you sleep, alright?” He asked, his voice laced in concern revealing to you that he may be aware of your restless night.

You resigned to nodding, unsure of how to answer, and not wanting to outright lie but also not wanting to reveal your nightmares in the middle of the kitchen.

“I got this for you,” Draco said, sliding a book towards you. Your screams had awoken him a few times through the night, but he chose to ignore your dismissal of his question, trusting that you would come to him when you needed him.

“What is it?” You asked, picking up the old book and examining the cover.

“Open it,” said Draco softly.

You did as instructed, finding an envelope inside addressed to Draco from Theodore Nott. You were puzzled but opened it up to find parchment covered in Harry’s messy scrawl.

Dear Y/n

You peeked at the beginning of the letter, excitement raging in your stomach. “Draco, how-” you whispered, your tone shifting back to the one he was used to hearing from you.

“Read it later,” he said smartly, and you nodded, tucking the letter back into the book. “I’m sure there’ll be more, but that one came this morning.”

You caught his eyes and held eye contact with him, all sincerity falling over you, “Draco, thank you, I know this, that my friendship with them isn’t easy for you. You don’t know what this means to me, what you doing this for me means.”

Your words struck Draco, he knew you’d be happy, but he didn’t consider entirely what it would mean to you. He was so deep in his thoughts, he was deeply startled by the kiss you placed on his cheeks. Although momentary, he knew he’d never forget the feeling of your soft lips on his face. The moment absolute bliss, he simply craved another when you stood back up. He wished he would grab your hand, pull you down onto his lap and kiss you back properly, but he wanted to give you the time you deserved. This touch, unlike many you had exchanged, was genuine.

“Anything for you, Y/n,” said Draco. They were the only words that he could think to say.

“Oh no, am I interrupting a moment?” Narcissa asked, half-way through her entrance to the kitchen.

You snapped the book shut, and straightened yourself up, the kiss you gave Draco affecting you more than you thought such a modest action could possibly affect you.

“No! Don’t worry, Draco was just surprising me with a book I didn’t think I’d be able to get otherwise,” you said, your words thinly veiled to the boy sitting next to you.

Narcissa smiled, excited that you two were getting on so well. “Well, I am sorry to interrupt, but we have an appointment in the sitting room.”

“Of course,” you said before turning to Draco. “Thank you again, Draco, have a lovely day.”

“You as well, darling,” he said and smiled back at you, watching intently as you left the kitchen alongside his mother.

He couldn’t help but feel a sense of melancholy wash over him as he saw you redraw your walls as you walked away. This wasn’t the life you deserved, and he could only feel that he was locking you into it, but somehow at the same time, he was your last chance at survival, and as you had pointed out in September, it could’ve been several guys, but he was glad it had been him. He sat with his thoughts for a while longer before rising to get about the terror of a day he had ahead of him.

Your day wasn’t much better. The sea of colors, choices, flowers, linens, menu options, types of chairs, different styles of canopies, and the list only seemed to grow every time you thought you’d reached the end. At the very least, the planner was sensible and didn’t talk your ear off about how exciting it was for you to get married. It was as if she understood that you, as a sixteen-year-old, wasn’t exactly anticipating this nor expecting it to be the best day of your life. Nevertheless, there was a mountain of things to get done. Narcissa helped with it all, honestly, she was more excited about the whole thing than you were, but you didn’t mind. The woman had shown you nothing but kindness, and her happiness brought a bit of lightness to your dark world.

“And I have a list of Master Malfoy’s groomsmen, but not your bridesmaids, ma’am,” the planner, Alexandra, directed this statement to you, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You hadn’t considered bridesmaids, and the thought of having anyone but Hermione, Ginny, and Luna with you made you want to burst out in tears. But it was evident that you couldn’t have them. “I guess, Pansy Parkinson, and Astoria Greengrass,” you paused, entirely unsure of anyone else you knew who wouldn’t be murdered for stepping foot at this event.

“Well, your fiancé only has three groomsmen, so you really only need one more,” she noted, and you looked to Narcissa for help.

“My cousin’s daughter, Ismelda Rosier, is coming, and I’m sure she’d love to be a bridesmaid,” Narcissa said, smoothly saving you, and you released a silent breath of relief which admittedly didn’t last long as the thought of spending your wedding celebrating with two girls you hated and one you didn’t know settled in your mind.

You continued sorting through the many tasks till darkness fell, and you were interrupted by your knight in shining armor, Draco.

“I think eggshell linens would be lovely,” he said as he entered the sitting room, approaching the table the three of you had gathered at. “Pardon my interruption, but dinner is ready. Will you be joining us, Miss-”

“Alexandra Frey,” she introduced herself. “No, but thank you for the invitation. I’ve got lots of work to do, Mrs. Malfoy. I’ll be back next week, the same day?”

Narcissa nodded, “Thank you for your time Alexandra, we’ll see you next week.”

You stood and made your way to Draco, excited to get away from the headache you’d spent your day dealing with. “You are my knight in shining armor,” you whispered in his ear. “If I had to talk about napkins for one more second, I’m going to find a window.”

Draco laughed quite loudly, causing Narcissa to sharply turn around, “What are you two giggling about?” She asked although a smile was on her face.

“Mother, I’m going to have to confiscate my fiancée from you. I’m afraid you’re going to kill her with talk of napkins.”

Narcissa shook her head, she hadn’t heard her son laugh like that in years, and it brought light to her heart to watch you bring it forth with such ease. “You know, after today, I’m quite tired. I think I’ll take dinner in my room if you don’t mind. You two go ahead and eat,” she said, and neither of you offered any debate.

“Thank you, Narcissa,” you said sweetly, and she nodded as you both headed off into the dining room. You chose the seat next to the head of the table as was social protocol, although Draco swept around you, electing to sit closer to you.

“It’s just us, I doubt anyone will care,” he said as he sat down.

“Mister Malfoy, how incredibly improper of you, whatever will I do with such a mannerless man?” You teased, your exhaustion accompanied by this morning's gesture emboldening you.

“I guess you’ll have to find peace with the fact that you’re to marry a beast who does not know his table manners, Miss Y/l/n,” he teased right back.

“I may just faint,” you said breathily, mockingly wobbling in your seat.

That laugh, that vivid, rolling laugh that reminded you kindly of waves meeting the sand, returned to your ears.

“So, how is our wedding turning out?” He asked as drinks, and your first course appeared on your plates.

“For one, I think it is preposterous that the only reason I am apart of planning and you aren’t is because I am a woman, and you are a man,” You said, as you lightly touched his nose to emphasize your point. “You are most likely way better at these things than I am. And second, my bridesmaids are Pansy, Astoria, and your cousin Ismelda, so that’s exciting.”

“Merlin, Pansy is going to hate that.”

“How was your day?”

“Certainly not as interesting as yours,” he masterfully dodged your question, which you let drop.

You continued talking, going back and forth just as you had Sunday night, but tonight was slightly different. You had started to trust him, brick by brick taking down a wall just for him, and he was beginning to understand you. Again you found the time you spent with him to be incredibly pleasant, pleasant enough for you to occasionally notice butterflies rattle around in your stomach.

When dinner ended, and it was time for you to both get to bed, you somehow both rose from your chairs on the same side. Luckily Draco had some of his whits about him and gracefully caught you by the shoulders, holding you just far enough away so that you wouldn’t bump into him but close enough so that it felt like your stomach was being shredded, his lips just centimeters away and the dim light suddenly feeling very romantic. But you just stepped back and allowed him to show you up to your room.

You awoke Wednesday morning, the monotony of your routine beginning to set in. You found your way back into the closet and picked out another perfect little black dress your mother had provided you along with a corset underneath to cinch your waist and a matching sweater. You styled your hair precisely as she would like it and followed with your makeup, applying it with an expert hand.

It was around nine when you made your way downstairs and into the kitchen to find that you were the first to arrive.

“Good morning,” you greeted the house-elf, whose name you still didn’t know.

“Are you talking to Zilsey, Miss?” she asked you.

“Of course, and please, when it’s just us, call me, Y/n,” You requested kindly.

She nodded, “Did Zilsey do something wrong, Miss?”

“No! No, I just wanted to say hello and good morning,” you said, softening your tone as much as you could.

“Oh, thank you,” she said. “Can Zilsey get you anything, miss?”

“No, thank you Zilsey, is breakfast out on the table?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss, it is.”

“Thank you, Zilsey.”

You sat down at the breakfast table. You weren’t hungry, in fact, you were mostly nauseous with nerves at the thought of the day that was ahead of you. You poured yourself some tea and found an apple. You sat with yourself and your tea for a while until Draco appeared in similar black attire.

“Good morning,” he greeted, another book in hand, and you perked up a bit.

“Good morning,” you stood to greet him.

“This is for you,” he said, passing you the book, and you took it.

“Thank you, Draco,” you said with the same sincerity you had the day before.

“Anything for you,” he said, kindness softening his grey eyes.

“Do you mind if I read it?” You asked as you both sat down in your respective spots.

“No darling, go ahead,” said Draco as he started placing food on his plate.

You opened the letter from ‘Pansy Parkinson’ underneath the table as a layer of precaution. Excited to see Hermione’s neat scrawl and your name at the top.

Y/n,

I miss you so much I hope that you are staying safe and everything is going well. Harry told me that Draco came to him and Ron on the train and told them to write to you through him. Did he come up with this on his own? I think you should ask him about the morning in the courtyard again, I have the feeling that there is more to what’s going on than what he’s told you.

Everything is going well on my side of things, I still haven’t been in touch at all with Ron, but I know that Harry and Ginny are doing well, but if they haven’t written you yet, I am sure they will soon. Harry has a whole conspiracy theory going around Draco, and I’m positive he is going to ask your thoughts, although he may wait until we return to school. He said that he’s worried Draco is reading these, but I doubt it. I’ve got a wonderful Christmas present for you, but I’ll wait to give it to you until we return.

Please know that I’m here for you no matter what and that I love you.

Stay safe and write me when you can,

Hermione.

“Thank you for these Draco, I really can’t say it enough,” you said once you finished the letter.

He nodded, “Anything for you.”

“Hermione says I should give you the benefit of the doubt,” you said as you folded the letter back into its envelope. You knew exactly what you were doing with those words.

Draco swallowed the pumpkin juice he had just picked up. “Does she?”

Elegantly, you nodded, “She does.”

You knew this was enough to tell him that your feelings for him existed and that you were considering something real, something better than this game of tennis you had been playing.

“Well, she is the smartest witch in our year.”

“I thought that was me,” you smirked.

Draco smiled, and playfully shook his head at you.

Breakfast continued, full of banter and flirting, and as you were waiting for the events of the day, you moved into the sitting room. Although eventually, your parents arrived, and the second they were announced, you hastily reconstructed your walls and straightened your back. Draco, picking up on every little change in habit you exhibited.

While it wasn’t raining outside, it was quite chilly, although Narcissa had utilized magic to put up a sort of weather-proof bubble around the outdoor dining set, allowing the lunch to take place out in the Malfoy’s beautiful garden. Even in winter, flowers, vines, trees, and hedges thrived green, white, silver, and blood red. Despite this, the gardens seemed cold, lifeless, and fake.

You and Draco made your way through the fog to the transparent bubble that sat in the center of a clearing out past the maze and under a series of trees and vines where your parents were waiting.

“There are the love birds,” Narcissa said gently.

“We were waiting for you all in the sitting room when the elf announced your presence,” Draco explained, catching your mother's judgmental gaze on you.

“Don’t worry, we haven’t been out here for more than a few minutes,” said Narcissa.

You assumed your seat next to Draco and across from your mother as sandwiches and teas appeared on the table before you. The lunch went as the dinner before it had, your parents focusing entirely on you and your mother shooting snide remarks about your appearance or your attitude whenever she could fit them in, although this time, your respite was a glass of champagne and holding onto Draco’s hand under the table.

“Layah, I’m sorry you aren’t able to make any of the appointments with the wedding planner. I’m sure you’d love to see how it's all getting along,” Narcissa said.

“Oh, I trust you completely with all that Narcissa, it really isn’t in my area of interest,” she said.

You were surprised that she wasn’t, in fact, more controlling over this whole process, although it was likely because she just wanted rid of you. Lunch continued on, and as it did, you noticed the stares you were receiving from your father, typically, he would just ignore you. In fact, the only time you received this much attention from his was when you screwed up.

As tiny desserts and espresso hit the table, your father rose from his seat. “If you don’t mind Y/n and I are going to go on a walk, I’d love the opportunity to talk to her, Father to Daughter,” he said to gritted teeth, taking your wrist tightly in his hand, and departing, dragging you along with him before anyone could say anything.

He took you inside and upstairs, shoving you into the first open guest room he could find and instantly cornering you.

“Your mother and I have been made aware that you’ve found yourself in the arms of Harry Potter more than once and that now he is writing to you here. Now usually, I would have your mother deal with such slip-ups. However, we have also been made aware that you slipped away in Diagonal Alley the other day to see some Weasleys. I thought you would’ve learned from your brother's mistakes.”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say as the shock of him finding you out rose to your expression.

“Don’t think we don’t have eyes on you, girl. Now, what do you have to say for yourself, considering slip-ups of the same nature are what got your brother his early spot in the grave,”

“Father, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll do better,” you recited the taught promise. You couldn’t think, the persistent reminder of William and the overbearing presence of your father overwhelming your mind.

He glowered at you, “You know that promises are not enough. We really did expect more from you, Y/n.”

“I know, sir, I apologize-”

In order to shut you up, William raised his left hand and backhanded you, the sharp cold ring bearing your family crest cutting your from the bottom of your cheek to just under your eye.

“You will not be embarrassing your mother or me after we leave on the errand,” He said, spitting on the ground next to you as you pressed yourself into the wall as you clenched your eyes closed. “Look at me when I speak to you!” He roared as he pulled out his wand and held it to your neck.

“Yes, sir! Yes, I’m sorry,” you sobbed, but when you looked up at him, he silently cast a dark spell that began to open the scars that littered your back, one you had experienced twice just this past summer.

As the curse started to take effect, you fell to your knees, and the man standing above, you stepped back in order witness to his work. When you were down, tears started streaming down your face from the pain, and you were focused on the screaming wounds on your back. He grabbed your hair in a fist and pulled your face up so that you’d have to look him in the eye as your blood seeped into the fabric on your back.

“You’re just a stupid little girl unable to comprehend the world around her. You’re not to ruin the legacy our family has worked so painfully hard to craft, you’ll shut up and be a pretty little face. You’ll marry Draco, you’ll stand by as we win this war, and you’ll have pureblood babies. You’ll be the Malfoy’s problem, and you’ll bear their name, but I won’t allow you to blatantly write off everything this family stands for. Your opinion, your thoughts, that overactive brain of yours doesn’t matter. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you croaked.

“Ah, I’ve been looking for you sir,” Draco’s sudden presence caused your father to drop you and turn towards the entrance of the room where Draco was standing. He stood in front of you in an attempt to cover you considering your current state. “Would you mind if I stole Y/n for a moment? My mother wanted to speak with her. Although if you two-“

“No, no son, please go right ahead. I was just saying my goodbyes. Layah and I will actually be leaving now.”

Your father turned back to you, muttering the counter curse to the torture he had started, then giving you a terrifyingly venomous glare before striding out of the room. Not before giving Draco a kind nod. Once he was gone, you let out a sob you had desperately been trying to hold in.

“Y/n, are you okay?!” Draco rushed over to you, dropping to his knees.

"The corset,” you murmured. You didn’t have nearly enough breath to allow for speech to come freely.

Draco pulled out his wand to unzip your dress and quickly undo your corset, ridding you of it as soon as he possibly could. Once he saw all the open scars on your back and the blood that had soaked through all of the layers of your dress, he muttered a nearly silent, “vulnera sanentur” which painfully closed the now fresh wounds. Every one of them turning into angry red scabs and flesh, and the cut on your cheek closing into a raised red line across your face.

“Can you stand at all?” Draco asked you, and you nodded, despite being unsure. “Here,” he muttered, and he picked you up, avoiding touching your back as best he could. He carried you down the hall and into his room, softly sitting you down on his bed. Draco disappeared into his closet, quickly returning with a plain sweatshirt and a pair of his boxers. “Let me help you put these on,” he offered, and you accepted, enveloped in pain you weren’t thinking of much besides your throbbing back.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Or do you want to lay down?” He asked, he was rushed and worried, entirely unsure of how exactly he could help you.

“He knows Draco, he knows about Harry, about the letters, he knows that I went to see Fred and George,” you cried. “I don’t know how he could know.”

Draco sat down in the middle of the bed with his back against the headboard, and he laid you down from your sitting position so that your head was resting on his lap, “Darling, I’m so sorry.”

“He said that they’ve been watching me. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid to think I could get away with anything,” you said as another sob racked your body.

“I promise you that I’ll never let something like this happen to you again,” he said in a soft and gentle whisper.

“Do you love me, Draco?” you asked, your voice so quiet you weren’t sure if he could hear you.

This caught him off guard, but after a minute, you heard him respond, “Of course I do, I have for years.”

“Then, why?” you were referring to the last term and the hell he had put you through.

He drew a breath in, he couldn’t very well lie to you now, “I- well there’s just a lot going on and I. Well, I’m involved in something that could get you seriously hurt, and I couldn’t bear the thought of being the cause of your death because I-” he looked up at the wall to collect his thoughts for a moment then looked back down at you. “I love you, and I didn’t want to tell you now, here, l really care about you, and I don’t know how to convey it because you- you’re perfect and I’m just an asshole, and I don’t know how to do anything but hurt you. You emerged from all of this, from the abuse and the lies about blood purity a better person, and I just let them turn me into one of their own, a pawn.”

It took you a while to think about what he said, the lack of blood, the exhaustion, and the adrenaline seeping out of your body, causing you to take longer than you might usually. You placed your hand over his, the one that was resting on his knee, your voice was lighter and lower than a whisper, “We can fight on the right side of this war, Draco, even in secret, but we’re all that we’ll have. You don’t have to be their pawn. I know your heart is in the right place. You just have to trust me.”

He folded down and stared into your eyes, inches away from your face. After a few moments, your lips met, exchanging a delicate and telling kiss. You loved him, you cared about him, you felt safe with him, and the two of you wouldn’t be your parents. You would make a better legacy for your families. You would change the tide.

Part 6 - The Onyx Ring

Tag list-

@whatawildone @herequeerandstressed @lordfxxker @pillowjj @pointlesscoconut @lovelylangdonx @fire-in-her-veinz @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @oi-itsemily @lukehemmingslut831 @peachybeannn @lovebynorth @bubblesam06 @voidnarnia @bethii1 @arthemis-o-negative @roseyrams @treestarrrrrrrr @streetfighterrichie @dreams-in-blxck

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x you #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #x reader #the silver letter #writingred

267 notes · View notes

dropintomanga · 3 years

Text

Narratives Can Go Through Time-Skips Too

So I just finished reading Nagata Kabi’s My Alcoholic Escape from Reality. It’s another eye-opening memoir about struggling with your mental and physical health. There’s a part in the story that made me think about what it means to talk about yourself to an audience that may never get to know the “real you.”

While recovering from her hospitalization, Kabi talks about wanting to draw fiction more than non-fiction. She felt guilty of drawing non-fiction due to how her previous works strained her relationships with her family. So Kabi decided to work on writing a fictional story, but struggled to come up with something. She would become depressed and went back to drinking alcohol to ease her stress. It wasn’t until she read an online article about a woman who talked about her non-physical disabilities since childhood. Kabi then realized that she should continue writing memoirs and not be ashamed of it (even if they talked about her struggles with pancreatitis) after a fellow manga creator told her to free her pen.

We’re in this golden age of revealing yourself to a wide variety of people who don’t know who you are across a medium (the internet) that allows one to connect to such variety. I think being vulnerable about your fears is a wonderful thing. There’s way too many people who try to act a bit too resilient to avoid dealing with painful emotions.

The thing is though, we change over time. Even if our values may stay the same, certain parts of ourselves go through various processes and grow. The labels we put on ourselves may not serve us any purpose at some point. Our narratives can take unexpected directions which we’re often not good at predicting.

I remember listening to Kabi’s interview at TCAF last month and her words about her conflict about Kabi Nagata, the character portrayed in her memoirs, versus Kabi Nagata, the real-life person. She found it difficult to find the line between the two. I read a book review of a non-fiction memoir about an artist living with schizophrenia and how they used art to cope. She talked about her struggle to define herself as both an artist bound by her condition and an artist recognized for her work. There’s a line that the author said during Mental Health Awareness Week.

“I will talk to anyone listening who has been given a diagnosis. I will say, just give it up—not that it will go away or be any less valid, but your diagnosis will lose its grip on your life, and once you no longer define your experience with this label, then you can start to live a new, happier life.”

I think Nagata is still trying to figure out how to make sense of the labels that make up who she is today and figure out how useful they are right now.

Labels and narratives are easily weaponized by folks who want to make money and promote harmful viewpoints. We get bombarded with messaging to stand for this, support this person, etc. There’s also the problem of “inspiration porn” - portrayals of people with disabilities managing to do well and users shaming able-bodied people who can’t match up to them.

I think that’s the scary thing about being vulnerable and promoting your story to outside folks - it can empower a well-meaning person to become a complete asshole forcing people to believe that a specific way/belief is the absolute answer. I swear people love stories so much because we all want to see and/or be heroes in our lives. They can’t stand the potential for a story with no clear resolutions due to how boring it can become.

It’s hard to combat the power of narrative when it starts to become harmful. The only solution I can think of is better promotion of self-reflection because public policy encourages way too much forward-thinking without taking necessary steps back. All for the sake of promoting stories of inspiration that don’t apply to everyone. So many people are on the edge because of this. Let them take meaningful breaks because the world is too much. That’s the escape from reality we need.

#narrative #mental health #psychology #manga #Nagata Kabi #labels

30 notes · View notes

detectiveinchicago · 4 years

Text

Always you

This one shot is inspired on episode 15 from Season 1 of SWAT.

Fandom: S.W.A.T

Pairing: Victor Tan x reader

Requested by: Anon

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3.716

“What’s on the menu for today?” you asked when you saw your husband cooking when you entered the kitchen.

“Pancakes” he replied turning to see you.

“Sounds delicious” you approached and gave him a kiss on the lips hugging him from behind.

“Do you have to go early today?” he asked you while you set the table for breakfast.

“Yeah Agent DuBois wants me to join a case, it seems to be big, she’s been following these guys in three states” you informed him.

“Keep safe” Victor said to you placing the pancakes on the plates.

“I always do” you replied stealing him a kiss and sitting at the table.

To say that Agent DuBois’s case was great would be a euphemism, not only she had been following these guys across three states but it was also a it was highly qualified team, they were fast, they left no traces and they used an electromagnetic pulse, they knew exactly when trucks would be at every stop so they had been nicknamed “The pits crew.” The last thing I informed her was that they were going to work together with LAPD S.W.A.T to finally catch them and the look she gave her told you everything, she knew, and was testing you.

In the last few weeks, Agent DuBois had been more than strange, it had been almost imperceptible to the others who had recently joined the Task Force but for you you had worked alongside Dubois before it was more than obvious that something was wrong and when He told her two weeks ago, DuBois had gone crazy and had taken you out of the case that he had just started, you were not sure why he was including you now but there were two reasons: that this decision was part of another chain of meaningless decisions that she was making Or that I wanted to prove you working with your husband.

You had never been to S.W.A.T H.Q before but you had heard Victor from time to time talking about the boxing ring and how enormous space was, set up so that S.W.A.T officers could train whenever they were not on the streets.

When he entered the Operating Room, he caught glances with Victor, whom he had seen less than two hours ago at breakfast, but no one knew, since he entered S.W.A.T, Victor had decided that he still did not want to tell anyone that he was with you. In part, he had bothered you because you thought he was ashamed of you, but he assured you it was very early even though it had been over three years since he had joined S.W.A.T. It bothered you, yes, but the subject hardly ever came up, but it didn’t mean that you didn’t think about it, anyway.

You heard how Captain Cortez and Sergeant Harrelson explained to the team the same thing that Agent DuBois had explained to them. You read the names on their T-shirt labels, trying to memorize their names. Agent DuBois seemed to have her mind outside the meeting because when she had to explain what happened next, Sergeant Harrelson had to point out it was her time to speak. The first step was to go for the guy who laundered the money for this band. They had gotten the clue after a Hondo C.I gave him notice of the information.

When everyone left the room, Captain Cortez approached her

“Agent (Y / L / N)?”

“Yes?” you asked her, turning to see her as you walked to the exit.

“What is your relationship with Victor Tan?”

“I’m sure you’ve read Victor’s file and that you already know the answer to that question, Captain” you answered

“Is your relationship with one of my officers going to be a problem?” she questioned, you understood where he was coming from, your relationship with Victor could not put the rest of his team in danger.

“No ma’am, no one in your unit knows, we keep a low profile” you murmured and Captain Cortez nodded

“No one will come out of my mouth I promise” she answered walking towards her office.

When you got to the suspect’s house, the FBI waited outside while SWAT cleaned the building; it was one thing to know the dangerous things that Victor did at work but it was another to be there while he did them, even though you knew he had experience and that what he was doing was like your work you couldn’t help but smile when you saw him leave the house with the suspicious husband.

“Destroying money is a federal crime, did you know that?” you asked the suspect once you had him in front

“And let’s not talk about money laundering” Agent DuBois added, standing next to you with a coffee in hand. How much coffee could that woman drink in a day?

“A lot of that money is from yesterday’s armed truck robbery,” Sergeant Kay commented.

“The serial numbers will prove it” you informed the suspect however when Sergeant Harrelson asked him if he was going to tell them about the gang that was robbing the suspect, he asked for a lawyer, but not just any lawyer, a former porn actress.

And then the day didn’t get any simpler, Sergeant Harrelson’s CI had been murdered, so they had to go inform the family, Victor had accompanied him so when he returned and disappeared through the kitchen doors you followed him silently. When you came in, he was just leaning on the counter with a bottle of water in his hands and staring at the floor.

“You’re good?” you asked, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water too.

“Yes, the mother of the man who died had dementia, the granddaughter and her father took turns taking care of her but now everything remains in her” Victor commented to you while you leaned close but keeping a safe distance in case someone suddenly entered the kitchen.

“Hopefully she will receive a suitable reward, it will not ease her pain but it will surely make the load easier” you consoled him

“I know, sometimes it’s not enough” Victor replied “The good thing is that we found the idiot in the snakeskin jacket in the casino where Hondo’s C.I was before he died”

“That is good, isn’t it?” you asked with a small smile

“Yes, he even said it was fashionable,” Victor said raising his eyebrows

“So I’m lucky you have such good taste in jackets” you joked giving him a hint before Captain Cortez entered the kitchen.

“I interrupt? I ask, looking at both of them.

“Not at all, captain, I was already leaving” Victor replied, leaving the kitchen

“I wanted to ask you if you had seen something strange in Agent DuBois’s behavior recently” asked the Captain sitting in one chair

“Yes” you replied with a sigh “She has been more than wandering the last few weeks, making meaningless decisions, forgetting things and having her head elsewhere”

“That was what I was afraid of” Cortez replied “I just confused the description of the suspect, I’m afraid he could endanger the team”

“It’s not my decision Captain but I don’t think DuBois is in her right mind to decide if you ask me” you confessed “A person like that seems harmless until she isn’t” you added before leaving the kitchen

Everything just kept getting worse. A while later Agent DuBois cornered you in the hall with such impetus she threw some of her coffee on your blouse.

“What did you say to Cortez?” she asked her with a hysterical look in her eyes

“Nothing, I said nothing” you answered raising your eyebrows at her attitude

“You’re lying, she’s been checking my work, you’re checking my work, who do you think you are, (Y / L / N)?” she asked you bringing her face closer to yours “I can report you above for working in a joint force with your husband so with the slightest mistake, you are dead” she added

“Go ahead, do it and we’ll see how it turns out” you replied as she walked away from you with a snort. Once she was away, you continued walking down the hall to Captain Cortez’s office.

“I was just about to inform you, DuBois is not happy that I have reviewed her videos” she informed you

“I know, she cornered me in the hall” you replied with a shrug, “She told me he was going to report because I was working with my husband”

Cortez raised her eyebrows, “She told me she was going to inform Commander Hicks that I had let Tan work with you, although he already knows”

“If she were in her right mind, she would never make that threat, she included me in the Taskforce, the person responsible for all this mess is her” you commented before leaving the door “I will change my blouse”

Once you got to the dressing room you started unbuttoning your blouse

“You’re good?” Victor asked entering the locker room and approaching his locker “What happened to your blouse?”

“DuBois happened” you replied sulkily “Victor this matter is getting out of hand”

“What do you mean?” He asked, turning to look at you.

“DuBois is furious because Captain Cortez questions her judgment and to be honest, so am I and she has threatened to report me” you informed him as you took off your blouse and took the replacement blouse in your hands.

“She can’t do that, can she?” Victor said staring at you

“I don’t know” you said “Anyway, what’s wrong with confessing about us? It’s not like we’re doing something wrong, we’re just married”

“I already explained it to you, this is not the time to tell the team about us” Victor replied closing his locker

“Why not Victor? Are you ashamed of me, you don’t want your team to know that we are marry? We have been married for over 10 years” you asked, frowning at him and beginning to feel anger taking over your body.

“No, I would never be ashamed of you but Annie, Deacon’s wife had a stroke recently, and the team is still shaky” Victor excused himself scratching his head.

“And the three years before that? You have been in S.W.A.T for over three years Victor” you replied closing your bag and heading towards the exit “I deserve more than to be your little secret girlfriend,” you added before walking out the door.

DuBois just had to keep messing up your idea, because fighting with your husband hadn’t been enough, but she wanted to bother you.

“I want agent (Y / L / N) to take part in the operation in the field,” she informed the task force.

“No, I won’t” you replied. The anger that had formed in the dressing room with Victor was still latent and DuBois was crossing many limits.

“Sorry?” she responded by raising her eyebrows and turning to see you.

“I will not expose myself to a highly complicated field operation just because you want to prove a point, agent DuBois,” you said putting your hands on the table “You have a highly qualified team to perform this operation, that was the point of including SWAT in the task force “

“I am the one in charge of this task force, I decide so I say that you are going to go undercover in the field operation” DuBois answered between clenched teeth “And if the problem is because you are afraid to work with your husband, I’m sure Captain Cortez and I can agree” she added, raising her eyebrows and taking a sip of her coffee.

You closed your eyes and shook your head clenching your jaw “Don’t push me, agent DuBois” you answered giving her a death looking and leaving the room. You had had enough, it was time to bring this up the chain of command, however, your boss did not answer you but started preparing the report.

Captain Cortez entered the kitchen where you were writing your report “What a scene” she commented taking a sandwich from the refrigerator and walking towards you

“I am ashamed that all those people witnessed that, I should have kept calm better” you confessed

“Easy, DuBois was more than exposed trying to pressure you” Captain Cortez said sitting in front of you “The team leaves in 15 minutes, I got DuBois to send you with Chris, Street, and Deacon, Tan, and Hondo will go by truck with Luca”

“Perfect” you answered, getting up “I’ll go get ready”

“(Y / N)” Jessica called you “I’m sorry but Hondo is already asking questions, I must tell him” to which you just shrugged and went to the locker room.

While they were preparing the route of the trucks, Victor gave you some glances. You were beyond furious. The point of keeping a low profile regarding your marriage was to avoid the problems at work, not to add them. To this was added the fact that after over three years on the team, he never revealed to his colleagues she was married.

“Ready?” asked Deacon approaching you.

“Yes” you answered placing yourself in the driver’s seat, the four of you would be closely following the route of the armored truck and ready to act when the situation requires it. Once you started the truck, Street who was sitting next to you couldn’t help himself.

“What was Agent DuBois referring to when she said you were scared to work with your husband?” asked Street “The last time I checked I wasn’t married, Deacon certainly is and Hondo I suspect, has a girlfriend so ...”. “

“So you’re a detective too?” you asked him looking at the earpiece “I’m not scared of anything, to begin with, DuBois is just trying to prove that she has control over the operation which she never had” you added stopping as the truck made the first delivery

“C’mon” Chris said in the back seat, “Why it had to be so secret?” wonder curiously

“We keep the information out of the file, only available to our superiors to avoid leaks, I do a lot of undercover work and Victor used to do it too when he was in Vices and when he joined SWAT, it just seemed the right thing to do, at least he believes it that way“ you explained restarting the vehicle.

“I told Annie that it couldn’t be Tan the one piciking the children’s gifts, they were just too good” Deacon commented.

“That’s me, Victor could never choose gifts for children” you replied to Deacon rolling your eyes

“I can’t believe it, how long have you been married?” Street asked, still surprised by that little piece of information.

“This year is going to be 11 years” you replied while he raised his eyebrows

“11 years? Do you mean Tan was married when he entered S.W.A.T?” Chris asked in a surprised voice, “why never told us?”

“There is a detour” Luca said through the intercom

“There shouldn’t be a detour there” DuBois said and rambled on how it was not a real detour but that the crew had placed it there and that they had to intercept them at the airport which led directly to a traffic jam.

“This is not today’s schedule! You’re looking at the wrong day!” You heard how the Captain said to DuBois. Luca asked what they should do and when Agent DuBois hesitated, he heard Cortez’s voice again “Luca, I’m Captain Cortez, precede the stop”

“I give the orders here, Captain” Agent Cortez yelled at him.

“We don’t have time for this. From now on, I give the orders so you can collaborate or you can stay out of my way” Cortez replied.

“My God” said Street, listening to everything.

Luca continued to the stop, but immediately he realized that the gang members were there and the electromagnetic pulse turned off the truck. The girl left with the money and Luca was left in a cross confrontation with the thieves. Victor and Hondo were stuck in the back of the truck with the thieves in command of the truck with the driver as a hostage.

“Deacon, status”

“We’re three minutes away captain” Deacon informed him as you could feel your heart beating hard in your chest, no matter how much you knew Victor was trained for those situations, you still felt like your heart hung by a thread like that. As you approached the truck you saw how Sergeant Harrelson was holding on to the roof so as not to fall, the truck sped up as you approached him until you could catch up with him, you warned the others to hold on and rammed him with your side of the truck until the third attempt it swerved and hit some cars that were parked.

“Get out of the truck” you yelled at the thieves as they got into position.

“Out of the truck” Street shouted again when he saw that they did not go down, you saw smoke inside the cabin, Victor’s trick had worked. One thief threw himself to the ground, and the other took the truck driver hostage, but when Hondo yelled at him from the roof to surrender he simply put his gun on the ground, out of the corner of your eye you saw Victor come out of the car from behind the truck. You finished handcuffing the suspect, smiling when you saw that he was okay. The patrols arrived instantly and as soon as they ordered the chaos they were free to return to H.Q.

Victor entered the locker room where the rest of his team was once they had returned to the barracks, went over to his locker and opened it.

“So ...” Street said, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“What do you want me to say?” Tan asked rolling his eyes “She is my wife”

“Yes, for 11 Tan years! You were married longer than I have been in the police force” Street replied.

“Do not take off years Street that you already see the wrinkles” So I answer jokingly

“That’s not the point, why keep him away from us?” Chris asked, turning to see him

“So we have no secrets on this team” Hondo replied, closing his locker.

“I know, it just seemed simpler, in Vice I was a lot undercover, she spends a lot of time undercover and we already know that leaks are more than common around here, anyone can sell information to someone else” So he explained “It was easier to protect ourselves like this, it’s not personal with you guys “

Deacon shrugged and looked at Hondo “It sounds like a valid argument to me, I would do anything to protect Annie too”

“Speaking of Annie, bring her to the next barbecue” Hondo pointed it out.

“I’ll ask her, but I don’t see why not,” Tan replied with a shrug.

“Great man” Street said, giving him a pat on the shoulder

“The actions of Captain Cortez and Agent (Y / L / N) were unprofessional and there will be consequences of spreading unfounded rumors about me,” Agent DuBois told Commander Hicks. Once everyone had returned to H.Q Agent DuBois asked to have a meeting with the three.

“I already reported to your office” replied Captain Cortez

“I raised a report directly to my superior who I imagine will communicate with yours” you added crossing your arms “My actions were not unprofessional, what you did today really exceeded all limits”

“You what?” asked agent DuBois

“And when the toxicological analysis returns positive I hope you are right, I hope there are consequences” you added frowning

“I know of people who have beaten this, Agent DuBois” ‘Cortez told her “but it’s going to take an honest look in the mirror to get started” Agent DuBois snorted and left the office

“There goes the bat” Commander Hicks said, “I’ll be on the phone all day tomorrow, do you know that?”

“Better that and not put more people in danger in the next city” Cortez replied while you nodded “Nice working with you, Agent (Y / L / N), I hope we see each other more often at the barbecues now that Tan is out to the light”

“We’ll see about that” you replied with a small smile “Nice working with you, Captain Cortez” you added before hanging your bag over your shoulder and leaving the office. You walked down the hall towards the exit, the place seemed deserted, it was almost 10 PM when you could finally leave the compound. The DuBois affair had led to several phone calls. When you got to the exit of the H.Q you saw Victor leaning against the wall.

“It took you a while” he commented when you got to his side.

“I know, Agent DuBois is going to make my life hell” you replied with a sigh.

“It was the right thing to do” Victor replied kissing your forehead “I’m sorry”

“Why exactly?” you asked raising your eyebrows.

“For having kept this a secret for so long and having it explode in your face, for having caused you to be exposed as if you were a criminal” Victor explained passing his arms around your waist.

“Are you ashamed of me?” You asked him, “Is that why you didn’t want me to meet your companions?”

“No, not at all, I’m just trying to protect you” he explained “I don’t know if I would bear that something happened to you because of me, one thing is that you take risks in your work and another thing is that my job puts you in danger”

“Honey, I know how to defend myself” you said raising your eyebrows

“I know you know, but I can’t help but want to take care of you” Victor replied hugging you while resting your head on his shoulder

“I know and I love you for that” you replied giving him a kiss on the lips

“There is a barbecue this weekend at Deacon’s house, the team wants me to take you” Victor commented as they left the headquarters holding hands

“Do you have to bring any gifts? Deacon already deduced that you are not the one who buys the gifts for the children,” you asked him with a small laugh while Victor shook his head.

#victor tan #victor tan imagine #victor tan one shot #swat cbs #swat imagine #swat imagines #s.w.a.t imagine #swat one shot #s.w.a.t one shot

255 notes · View notes

auriel187 · 3 years

Text

Falcon and The Winter Soldier (and The Tigress)

Word Count: 1467

Warnings: Language

Ships: Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader(eventually), Sam Wilson x Black!Reader (platonic)

A/N: If anyone doesn’t like the fact that the reader is black, go away.

"This depression," said Wanda, "it is as if there is a force pressing down on me. So, this music that goes with that flow, that surrenders to the pressure, that's just assisting the depression, not me. I need the artists who struggle against depression and discover ways to win, how to step out from under this invisible anvil and rediscover the forces that uplift the soul." Y/n reminisced of the red headed telepath’s word from the last time they spoke.

She had always loved the flowers and the birds, loved the sunlight and the clouds that drift by. She had always loved the way the leaves move in a breeze and that soft whispering sound they make, like nature loves to chatter too. Yet the tiredness that began a while ago remains like a veil over her skin, grey and cold. And as she watches the petals and the twigs that sway outside the window, there is only a creeping sorrow where there should be joy. It sits like November rain on her skin, enough to chill what was once warm inside. At any other time she would have called a friend, asked for the warmth she needed to ward it off, just a little is enough.

No longer. Now she just lets it come, drop by drop and she feels like it is an ocean falling upon me instead of rain - that the grief of years she carefully suspended has all condensed right above her head into a cloud large enough to block the sun. They say it can't rain forever, that there will come a time when it must cease, that the last drop will have fallen. Thing is, she just doesn't care. She will still be true to myself, still help others, but she planned to just stay here in the cold, comfortably numb.

“Steve represented the best in all of us. Courageous, righteous, hopeful. And he mastered posing stoically.” The audience let out a small chuckle as Sam spoke fondly about the man whose shield he was holding.

Y/n felt her stomach twist as she saw the senator nod his head at Sam’s words. She watched as the smile faded before he continued. The sounds of cameras shuttering filled the silence.

“The world has been forever changed,” Sam continued “a few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil. We need new heroes.” It made Y/n shudder. ‘New heroes’ like the old ones were replaceable. Heroes like Steve. Like Tony…

Like Nat.

Steve giving his shield to Sam was a message. ‘Sam, I trust you will do the right thing, ' was that statement. Sam giving his shield to the Steve Rogers exhibit is the right thing. At least in his eyes. He was right, the world needed new heroes.

“Ones suited for the times we’re in. Symbols… are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning.” Y/n grimaced, fiddling with the bracelet that clung to her wrist. Her painted black fingers ran over the word ‘котенок’ as she walked with burning tears that she blinked them away. “And this thing…” Sam chuckled, staring at the shield. I don’t know if there’s ever been a greater symbol, but it’s more about the man who propped it up, and he’s gone. So, today we honor Steve’s legacy. But also, we look to the future. So, thank you, Captain America, but this belongs to you.” The room burst into applause as he placed the shield in a cube shaped display case.

When Sam spotted Y/n in the crowd, he hopped off the stage and walked up to her. He had a small smile on his face as he pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m glad you made it.” He whispered into her dark curls.

“Of course I came, Sam. You know what you and Steve are to me.” She kept her voice steady and cold, not that Sam seemed to mind. He of all people knew what would happen if she got emotional. The label angry black woman wouldn’t even cover it, being what she was, she would be shot on sight without question.

“Are you doing alright? It’s been a while.” He pushed her shoulder lovingly as a small grin broke across her face. She tried to play it off like she was fine, but Sam knew better.

“I just miss them. I’ll get over it.” Y/n replied with a shrug, the pressed silk top hanging loosely off her starving frame.

Grief made people do crazy things. In Y/n’s case the loss of three of the four most important people in her life made eating relatively hard. Especially when the three she lost would still be here if they hadn’t gone back to save the one she lost. Her loss stared her in the face every time she saw her one, and now only, closest friend. “Y/n, I think we both know that’s not true, otherwise you’d be over it. I know it’s hard. I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through but you can always talk to me.” To which she nodded. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.” He said quietly, backing away slowly, leaving Y/n alone. Y/n took a look around the room but found nothing left to keep her there, so she left, heading to the only place that felt like some semblance of home.

Standing in the building that reminded her of everyone she loved and lost, Tony Stark’s name, Steve’s punching bags, the room painted a deep scarlet with a mirrored wall. Y/n walked deeper into the room, peeling off her heels replacing them with ballet shoes before calling out, “Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y, Can you play my ‘Family Playlist’ please?” She asked, beaming at no one in particular when ‘Back In Black’ began playing over the speakers. Her thoughts were running a mile a minute as she danced on par as the music changed from song, after song, after song.

You pay for everything one way or another. If you are lazy you will pay with the pain of failure. If you love to eat and indulge you will pay with the price of your health and self esteem. Yet if you love ballet, if you wish to fly as if God had remembered to sew on your angel wings, you will pay in the pain of training, in daily dedication, sweat and struggle. If you love someone, you have to sit and watch them in pain, suffer in ungodly ways…die. Those who try to save the world are always the ones that die to save it. In this life, what are you paying for and how? The cost-benefit see-saw is always there. Y/n learned from an early age that her emotions were a thing to suppress, and so when the ballet teacher asked for them they came forwards as an untapped fountain and took all by surprise. They called this her gift. She called it her release. The only thing that kept her from lashing out.

“You just keep dancing,” her teacher said, watching as she spun with excellent pursition. “You don’t stop until the burning in your body is too much.” Y/n was at that point but she pushed through it. She didn’t stop until the playlist ended and just as she made her way to the ‘Red Room’, her Red Room, she found her way home. Clicking the TV on to fill the silence her heart dropped when she heard it.

“-Unrest, in the wake of recent events, has left us vulnerable. Everyday Americans feel it. While we love heroes who put their lives on the line to defend Earth, we also need a hero to defend this country. We need a real person who embodies America’s greatest values. We need someone to inspire us again, someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So, on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero.”

She was physically quaking with unbottled rage. Her eyes were trained on the TV as a man, a white man, came into view on the screen waving it around like it was a fucking trophy to flaunt. She unconsciously walked up to her flatscreen and waited. She wanted to hear them say it. She wanted to see if they had the balls to say it.

“Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.” She punched the TV with the force that caused her knuckles to bleed. Right in the face of the man carrying Steve’s shield. Sam’s rightful shield!

29 notes · View notes

lapis-arts · 3 years

Text

The Knife of Amphibia

Chapter 2: Prison Escape

Summary: Months had passed since Anne's arrest. After putting up with mistreatment and retaining her innocence, she finally thinks about breaking out of prison... Little did she know, someone is willing to help her out.

Fandom: Amphibia

Features: Assassin AU, Aged Up Anne and Plantars

Warnings: Violence, blood, interrogation

Word Count: 1,807 Words

Anne woke up in her dingy cell that morning. Her body had ached all over from sleeping in the prison’s horrible conditions for the last few months.

Lady Olivia was nowhere to be found to hear her out, having to replace the king's duty to restore order in the city, lest it burned down completely. She had told General Yunan what happened word for word since day one, but it all fell upon deaf ears. All Yunan wanted was for Anne to confess to the murder and she might get life in prison. She wasn't going to, though. She knew what happened, her story stayed consistent throughout the months, so she stood her ground and retained her innocence.

It had felt like today was the final day of her life as guards came to her cell and dragged her to the torture chambers once more, strapped down into the chair for the torturer to do as Yunan ordered. The tall and hulking toad burned Anne repeatedly with a red-hot iron rod, the human crying out in pain, the general trying once again to force a confession. A few burns later, Yunan finally stepped in.

"Ok, ok, that's enough!" She said, motioning for the torturer to leave them alone. Anne growled as the woman got closer and spat in her direction.

"I already told you everything that happened... Why won't you listen to me!?" She hissed. Yunan just gave her a grin as she walked up to Anne and placed a hand on her chin to make her look up at her. "Oh, you foolish human.. It was part of the plan all along." Yunan said, about to reveal her hand to Anne.

"Wh-what?... What are you talking about?" Anne asked, clearly confused by what Yunan was telling her.

"Andrias was bound to be murdered before you and Marcy arrived earlier than noticed.. You just showed up at the wrong place at the right time. Now, I get to hit three flies with one stone." She chuckled, Anne staring wide eyed at the general in disbelief.

"You're insane..." Anne said, her brows furrowed in anger as she tried to struggle through the straps, the thick leather leaving rope burns on her skin the more she struggled to break free to beat up Yunan senseless.

"It's far too late to put up a fight, Anne. The whole kingdom believes you killed Andrias in cold blood and poor Olivia has no time to listen to your pleas. I'm in charge of your fate now.." Yunan smirked, grabbing the iron rod the torturer left in the burning fire, poking at Anne with it to get an official fake confession for the last time.

"Don't make this harder than it already is.." she threatened, burning Anne every time she refused to agree to the confession, the human stifling her cries of pain the best she could, not giving Yunan the satisfaction of hearing her pains.

After enough torment, Yunan knew the human wasn't going to give in. By that account, refusing to admit to the murder, Yunan had sentenced Anne to death by guillotine.

Anne was to be thrown back in her cell and await execution for the next few days, her body completely sore and covered in fresh and painful burns. She can't take on this abuse anymore. Anne had to get the hell out of there. She was clearly innocent based on the evidence, but a conspiracy damned it all...

Something didn't add up.. Why would Yunan kill off Andrias? Did she have something to do with the plague, or does she just want to rule Amphibia for all the glory and power? No matter what the newt's motives were, Anne needed to get out or her head will be rolling from the chopping block this weekend no matter what. For now, all she wanted to do was rest and slumped into a corner of her cell to sleep the afternoon away.

---

Later that evening, Anne woke up from the sound of a guard rattling the bars of her cell, signifying that it's dinner time already.

"You should eat up, Anne. This meal is from a friend." Is all the guard said, leaving rather quickly. A friend, was it? The human made her way over to the food tray, seeing a bowl of soup as usual, but it was actually warm and fresh this time. As she pulled the bowl away, she noticed a folded piece of paper in tact. She nearly tossed meal aside and quickly opened it, a small key falling out on her lap, yet revealed a handwritten note directed to her, and she couldn't be more relieved to recognize it was Lady Olivia's handwriting in particular.

"Hello Anne. I apologize for my absence, but I know for a fact you are innocent. I've pestered Yunan to extend your trial, but she's too over her head for reasoning and I have no time on my hands to continue doing so. Take this key, escape your cell and take refuge into the sewers."

Anne wasted no time at that point. She looked out the bars of her cell to check for no guards doing rounds, and slipped the key into the cell lock and got out. To her convenience, it seems like the guard who gave her the note left a sword on top of one of their tables, Anne gladly took it and fled the area. The human stuck close to the walls, peeking over the corners to make sure no guards were in sight. In some parts of the prison, Anne had to stick to the pipes and vents near the ceiling to avoid the guards scattered across a room. Never had she been more grateful to endure Marcy's stealth training, as it came quite in handy until she reached the exit point.

Just outside of the entrance gate was the river that surrounded the prison. If she could find a way out, she could easily dive and swim to the sewer entrance on the other side. Unfortunately, in order to do that, she had to get through the guards. Anne evaded the guards doing rounds, sticking to the shadows and hiding behind storage containers. She managed to slip through a broken window the entry office hadn't fixed yet, seeing a newt guard yawning while he was writing something down. Anne couldn't take any chances and neutralized him, putting him in a chokehold until he passed out.

"Sorry.." she muttered under her breath, quickly traversing to the next room, taking down whoever was there. Next to the window was a control panel, a lever off to the side labeled "Gate."

Bingo, her one way ticket out of here.

She quickly pulled the lever and waited for the gate to open, slipping out through the back door. All the guards turned their attention towards the gate, puzzled as to why it was opening. Once the moment was right, Anne sprinted as fast as she could towards the exit, shoving guards aside as they got in her way.

"Sound the alarm!!" A guard yelled, a couple of officers running towards the nearest alarm, hastily ringing the series of bells.

"Shit!" Anne growled as she heard the alarms ring out, pushing herself even faster towards the ledge. Near the edge of barbed wire fence were the watch towers by the lifted bridge, the prison guards hearing the alarms and spotted Anne down below. The guards grabbed their crossbows and shot at her, Anne pulled out her sword in response, slashing a few bolts out of the way, save for one that nicked her right on the shoulder, drawing blood. Anne hissed from the sharp pain, but ignored it once she reached the ledge, and finally jumped off.

She dove down a few yards into the water, quickly swimming away. She made her way to the sewer gates just across, swiftly opening and shutting them close as she entered, finding a loose pipe and shoved the metal in between the handles of the gate, making sure no one would enter for a good moment.

Once the adrenaline rush ended, Anne took off deeper into the sewers and stopped as she was met with a locked gate. She took a step back to rest for a moment, collecting her thoughts before continuing on, processing that she actually broke out of prison.

"Oh my fucking frog.. I actually made it out.." she panted, sliding down the wall onto the floor to take a breather. After regaining herself, Anne turned to the locked gate again, trying to figure out a way around it. Off to the side of the wall, was another handwritten note, seemingly from Olivia again.

"Anne, if you made it, then congratulations! Beyond the sewers should be your exit, and familiar friendly faces should see to you after you leave through the storm drain. Good Luck"

Anne looked up the gate and saw a little crawl space, climbing up and crawled through to get to the other side. She soon heard footsteps and officer commands echo through the sewers, knowing it was the Royal Guard trying to find her. The human stuck towards hiding again, trying to avoid much conflict as she could this time around. Anne even had to endure swimming through the sewer water under bridges just avoid detection, thankfully leaving unscathed.

After exiting the sewers out of a storm drain, Anne finally reached above ground where she saw a familiar looking family wagon, seeing three young looking frogs keeping watch. It wasn't until she saw that unmistakable aviator hat on one of the pink frogs that she realized who it was.

The said frog with the hat turned towards the drain to see the human climbing out of it, his eyes widened in disbelief as he realized who it was and quickly hopped over to her.

"Anne! You're ok!" He said, jumping into Anne's arms and hugged her.

"Sprig! Hey buddy!" She hugged him back, embracing the moment for a bit before she placed him down as the other frogs came to see her. "Hey Polly, hey Ivy. Damn, it's been a long time." Anne said. While the sentiment was nice, they all understood they didn't have time to waste.

"We gotta get you to Wartwood! It wasn't easy for us to get past the barricade." Ivy explained, Polly brushing off the situation. "Oh please! Those guys are nothing. We can take them on if they're trouble." That statement hinting the young frogs certainly weren't going down without a fight.i

After that, the frogs quickly got Anne into the fwagon, making sure there were various hiding placing for Anne just in case someone inspected them. Sprig took the driving seat and grabbed Ol' Bessie's reigns and finally took off to make the journey to Wartwood.

#amphibia #amphibia anne #anne boonchuy #assassin au #amphibia yunan #general yunan #amphibia sprig #sprig plantar #amphibia polly #polly plantar #amphibia ivy #ivy sundew #the frogs are there just towards the end lol

10 notes · View notes

pvremichigan · 3 years

Text

Until We Meet Again. [Arc Drabble]

TW: Vomit, blood, alcoholism mention, murder mention, memory loss

“From the look of it, I think I only need one more. Does it have to be specific? ...”

“No... Alright, makes things a lot easier. Yeah... Yeah make sure you keep contact with him, keep trying. Do whatever you gotta do.”

The voice on the other line spoke back, giving Mich a short verbal response.

“I appreciate the help. I do. One more and... Yeah, I’ll head over. When?”

The woman looked outside the window, her heart sinking the more she thought about the outcome. This was now or never... And if she hesitated, she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. It’s just her... Just her at this point. She can’t deny the fear that built up inside, but time was running too thin.

The house was nearly covered inside with sticky notes about reminders and tasks, labels and tips. It looked like a damn video game tutorial... Everywhere there was SOMETHING about something or someone. Names scattered the notes, scribbled the more she had to remind herself. This morning she had gotten confused and a bit startled at the sight of two wolves in her house. She had no idea what to do, especially considering they were following her. It took far more than a half an hour to remember that those are her own dogs... Not wolves. Their names slipped her mind more often than not.

She was a mess...

“... I’m going to shoot for tonight. Can’t stall anymore. Don’t wanna risk any of the souls losing value.”

She sounded so unsure. It was as if she was pulling away by the minute. Her brain screamed that she didn’t want to do this but at this point, she really has no choice. It’s either this... Or lose herself to the brink of death.

“Yeah- Yeah I’m still here. Just thinking. I know, I’ll uh...”

It’s getting dark.

“I’ll head out now. I’ll be in touch. Thanks, Carter.”

As soon as the call ended, the weight of Mich’s body seemed to drop her down on the couch. Her legs had given out and her hands began to shake. She felt extremely ill, blocking her mouth with her fist just in case. Her blood chilled her body, everything felt cold and numb aside from the sensation of a rapidly beating heart. Funny... Her heart doesn’t even do anything for her, yet it can still react to her mind and emotions. It certainly didn’t help the situation.

Her skin grew cold. Her face pale... All she could do was sit stranded on the couch with an anxiously bouncing leg. The sound of the world tuned out. It was only ringing... Ringing that grew louder and louder. For a moment she could’ve sworn she heard it outside of her mind. It sounded so close, so real... And so utterly loud. Her eyes stared forward in contempt, her entire being practically frozen in this loop of doing nothing but break internally. This was a prison for her, this fear had been the warden keeping her in place and refusing to let her truly approach her mistakes with vigor. The fear creating a cowardess she had to face in any reflection she walked by. The fist didn’t fix anything... A wave of blood forced it’s way out of her throat and past her lips, an unprepared silent wretch as she was forced to hunch forward, splattering onto the carpet. No bile, no mucus... Just pure blood. Her nerves got the best of her. The last time this happened... It was right after she had shot Ryan dead. She stared in shock, frozen yet again as the shaking grew worse. In that moment, flashes of that miserable night sparked in her mind. All six shots... The tears that dropped from her eyes... And the final view of Ryan desperately and weakly reaching to her before his body went limp... And he lay there dead. Since that moment, her life had spiraled downward. One mistake led to years of agony and misery.

The paralysis caused by her fear had broken as she ran her hands over her face, tired and stressed from everything that had to be done. There were too many thoughts of regrets and ‘what ifs’ and ‘if only i’... But no matter the rate of those thoughts that haunted her in this moment, it still didn’t change the fact that what was done, was done.

It had been over 3 years now... Compared to her lifespan, it was such a short time to deteriorate her mind. She never recognized the importance of a soul until her actions truly came to bite her in the ass.

Now she has no choice but to risk everything to fix her biggest mistake.

The movement out of the corner of her eye had caught her attention. the larger dog... B... The larger dog... The big one... The older dog... Why couldn’t she remember his name? Mich felt the sting of tears burn the entire area around her eyes as she truly realized in that moment how far gone she was and how there was no turning back. Her own dog, her main boy and she couldn’t even remember his name. As the reality of the situation hit, her heart had shattered into pieces. Louder and harsher than porcelain could ever dream or glass could ever achieve. The strongest material out there had shattered within it’s final moments of stability. What could anyone make of a pile of rubble, sharp and dangerous to bother with? There’s no gluing that back together.

There’s no mending that object that had been beaten by the owner and those around her. There’s no salvaging what she had.

The woman got up, legs growing weaker as she slowly and weakly made her way over to the dog. The ears of the boy lowered a bit, noticing his mother’s energy was like nothing he had sensed before. The redhead fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around the dog. The dog she owned and knew... But could not name. Her silent tears dampened his coat as she continued to hold him. This was her physical apology for everything. Everything this dog witnessed through these years. He watched her heart shatter after Brandon... Then swell after Ryan. He met his new brother who he loves dearly. He noticed Mich fall into a habit of alcoholism... Smoking more often. Altercations happening frequently if not daily. There were people she had made mad pounding at the door. The casualties and violence had skyrocketed, and there was less remorse to be found in her actions. He watched his mother fall into the worst parts of her life... Watched her breakdown after that floating man came into the picture. He watched her begin to avoid Riley and stray away from him. He watched her flinch at Riley’s name... He watched countless nights of her getting drunk and crying herself to sleep. He even watched several weeks straight go by where she didn’t get up from the couch once. Then slowly but surely... He watched her forget everything she’s ever known. Her legacy, her empathy, her mind, her family, herself... And the most painful part, her own dogs. Beaux head seemed to push against hers, as if he were holding her back to tell her he forgives her... That he still loves her. He always will.

That’s his mom...

It had been a while that she had remained on the floor with Beaux. Nearly an hour of an unmoving embrace. During that whole time she tried her hardest to recall his name... She felt like a failure when the point came to where she just couldn’t. This was it. This was the final stage of it all. If she doesn’t get to it soon... She will never be able to finish what she started.

She’ll never be able to heal.

“I don’t know your name, I’m sorry... But if I come ba- ... When I come back, things will be different... I promise. I promise you, big guy. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I’ll be a better owner...”

“I’ll be a better mom.”

She nodded into his fur to assure him she’d return. Whether he understood her or not, the verbal promise was also a promise to herself. She will return. She doesn’t have a choice. She has things to do here... People need her.

But how long will it be...

“Take care of your brother...”

Sniffling a bit, she tries to break away to stand up, but Beaux kept his head locked around hers for just a moment longer. Strained whines nearly whistle tone whistled through his muzzle. He didn’t wanna let go... But knowing his time was up, he finally let her stand up. The whining still rang, as if his last plea for her safety. Beaux grew anxious, his paws adjusting and shifting as he sat. She gave him a tight smile, patting his head and bending down once more to give him a soft, loving kiss on the forehead. One more pet and she had to pry herself away. Not looking back, she headed down to the cellar to collect everything she needed. By everything, she means everything she needed. Because for a couple of months, or even years...

She won’t be coming back.

Jack hadn’t been home that day. It made it much easier for her to leave without a trace. She grabbed the bag full of things she needed, heading back up the stairs. Her gaze was glued to the door, her steps coming to a halt as her body forced one more hesitation.

‘It’s now or never.’

That was all she needed to break the concrete around her feet as she forced herself forwards to the door, grabbing the handle and forcing her body to twist it. As easy as a task that it was, her body’s fear was the biggest obstacle there was. A war had ensued within her, but the first battle was a success as Mich finally pried the door open and dragged herself out. She shut the door behind her, locking it up and taking a step away from the house to look at it as a whole. The memories she had... The pain these years have brought upon her. All that was to be left in the past. It’s time to finish this... It’s time to move on.

A shaky breath, she took one last good look at it. A long moment of preparation and perseverance... One last good look... Before she turned on her heel and took her final steps away. She can’t go back now. There’s no going back.

She didn’t look back.

‘Until we meet again.’

#[[Pull the Trigger]];; ic #[[Trail of Smoke]];; Drabble #[[Gun Powder]];; Mich

4 notes · View notes

zutaradreams · 4 years

Text

1000 Follower Fic

When I reached 1000 followers, I decided to write a story based on one of the prompts for the latest Zutara month. This story features aged up characters, where Zuko is never banished and serves in the navy under Admiral Zhao. Katara and Sokka never find Aang and travel to the North Pole on their own. As requested, this is for Day 9: Shatter. Please enjoy! It will be up on AO3 soon!

@zutaramonth

The Healing Hut

He says a lot of things as the fever works through him. He curses every time he moves, when he feels the pain surge through his body. He thinks he talks to Mai. He calls for his mother at one point. He imagines his father, but never lets a plea for him leave his lips.

Through all the murmurs of a fevered man, the first thing he says consciously when he realizes he is not alone is: “My uncle?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know your uncle.” Then two cool hands massage his temples, and he falls back to sleep.

He hears a lot too. “I can’t leave. They’ll kill him.”

A man says, “The guards will make sure no one does.”

“The guards want to kill him.”

“They can’t. He’s worth more alive.”

“Not anymore,” the woman’s voice replies, the one the cool hands belong to. “He asked for an uncle.”

“That would be General Iroh.”

He wants to speak up, say “yes, did you find him”, but the air around him is so hot, and he feels like he can’t breathe.

“Ozai’s brother,” the man adds.

Ozai.

The air feels hotter and hotter. He moans in pain. The hands find him.

“That’s Ozai’s son you’re helping, Katara. And the whole tribe knows it.”

“And they know this is the man who killed Zhao.”

“Yeah, too late,” the man sneers abhorrently.

“He’s part of the reason I have my bending back.”

“Yue’s the reason you have your bending back!” he shouts.

“Look, I couldn’t just let him die out there. Especially not by Zhao’s hand.”

“So you’ll save his life, nurse him back to health, and then what?”

The woman, Katara, gives no answer. She prods at his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He wants to shout at her to stop touching him; it all hurts so much. But then she pulls her hands away, and he realizes he does not hurt as much as he did before.

“Good, your fever’s going down. Now how are those ribs?” Her hands trail down from his forehead to the center of his body. “Hmm, not as good as I want them to be. This might hurt a little.”

His chest seizes in pain immediately as she attempts to mend the shattered bones. He wishes he could stop her. He wishes he could burn her hands from his body. He wishes she would let him die.

“There. That’s better,” she says softly, and opens his mouth to bend water down his throat.

His fever breaks that night.

She’s not expecting to see his hazy eyes staring back at her when she enters the healing hut. It’s easier to heal Prince Zuko when his eyes are closed and he’s lying still. Now that he’s awake, now that his fever’s broken, now that his bones are on the mend, she wonders what to do with him.

“You,” he says in a deep, raspy voice, deeper from his illness. “You were at the oasis.”

“Yes.” She stood with Sokka and Yue, trying to protect the moon spirit from Zhao and his men.

“Katara.”

She wonders why he feels the need to call her by name. She’s surprised he even knows it.

“I should be dead.”

“You should.”

“The force of Zhao’s attack-”

“I was able to heal most of the burned skin with minimal scarring. The force of the blow shattered your ribs. I had to work quickly to stop the internal bleeding. You’ll have to stay in bed longer, though. You still have a lot of healing left.”

“My uncle?” he asks again.

“I don’t know.”

As far as she knows, every Fire Nation soldier drowned in La’s revenge...every single one except Zuko. Sokka tells her La spared him because he would have died from his injuries. Katara thinks La spared him out of gratitude, for delivering the fatal blow to the one who harmed Tui.

“Who would know?”

“I’ll ask around. Let me check on your ribs.”

Her hands are less steady now that golden eyes watch her every move.

As soon as he can sit, he starts making demands - for a ship, for parchment, for an audience with the Chief.

“Eat the food I brought you,” she says, rolling her eyes. She’s starting to prefer him unconscious. “The broth is delicious.”

“I need to let my father know I survived.”

“He knows,” she tells him. Chief Arnook sent word to the Fire Nation, hoping to settle on a ransom. “He knows you killed Admiral Zhao. You’ve been labeled a traitor to the Fire Nation.”

He hurls the bowl of soup at her. She bends it right back at him.

Sokka urges her not to heal him again, and she’s inclined to agree. She holds out for three days before she wonders how his ribs are faring.

He’s the only patient in this healing hut. He thinks he knows why. He’s a traitor to the land he’s from and a prisoner to the land he’s in.

“What will your people do with me?” he asks, while she soothes the bruises beneath his scarred skin, evidence that his bones are moving back where they belong.

“They’re not my people,” she reveals.

There’s nothing more absurd to him, that this young woman with hands cloaked in healing water, would not consider these people of the Northern Water Tribe hers.

“I’m from the South. I came here with my brother a few years ago to learn waterbending.”

“I didn’t realize the South had any waterbenders left.”

Her hands still.

“That’s thanks to your people.”

He doesn’t see her again for five days. His ribs ache.

“He’s a liability,” Chief Arnook says.

“Yeah, especially now that you told the Fire Lord we have him,” mentions Sokka critically. The relationship between the two of them suffers irreparably now that Yue can no longer keep the peace between her father and her husband.

Katara wonders if this means Sokka will consider leaving the North Pole now. Maybe she can convince him to come home, the way she had to convince him to leave all those years ago. But Sokka will never leave, not when he’s Arnook’s heir by marriage, not when he has a son he has to raise alone.

This may be her time to leave, however. “I can take him back to the South Pole,” she offers. “That way the threat’s away from here. The Fire Nation won’t attack the South Pole. There’s no need when they’ve already taken everything. The North, on the other hand, has too much to lose.”

“Katara-“ her brother begins. He doesn’t want them to be separated. He still stands by some promise he made to their dad that he would always look after her. But she’s grown up now. She’s a master waterbender. And it’s time to go home and wait for new waterbenders to be born. It’s time for her to teach them.

“My mind’s made up,” she says.

Prince Zuko will return to the South Pole with her, as a prisoner of the Southern Water Tribe.

He’ll trade one icy pole for another, it seems. When he hears the news, he wishes she had let him die.

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as I think you’re able,” she replies. “It will be a long journey. You’ll need your strength. How do you feel today?”

His body feels better, but nothing else. His mind is raging at the thought of spending the rest of his life in that plundered village of ice and snow. He’s seen it before, briefly when he was under Zhao’s command, as they searched for the Avatar. He never wants to see it again.

She helps support his weight when he begins walking again. His arm hangs around her shoulders, and though he’s working hard to keep the indignance plastered on his face, she can tell by the stride of his steps that he is eager to walk again.

They take laps around the hut until his breaths grow heavy, and then she helps him back into his bed. He eats his soup without protest.

A question persists on the tip of her tongue. It’s bothered her for weeks, and now she feels like he’s in a stable enough mood to answer it. “Why did you kill him?”

Zuko had attacked first, as soon as Zhao struck Tui, not the other way around. Zhao’s final blow, while intended fatally, had been in response to Zuko’s wave of fire. Even on the ground, with shattered bones and melted skin, Zuko rained fire down on Zhao until the admiral’s death.

She would have done it, had her bending not been taken from her. Sokka would have, if he could have gotten close enough without being burned. Zhao expected this from them, the enemy. He clearly didn’t expect it from Zuko. So she wants to know why he did it.

Why did it matter so much to you?

“The sky’s not supposed to be red,” he replies, reminding her of how it felt to have the moon plucked from the sky, how it felt to be without her bending. “He could have destroyed the whole world. Mortals have no business with the spirits. We can’t understand them.”

“Yeah, but La would have handled him, like he handled the rest. You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t know what La was going to do. I just knew what I had to do.”

“What did you think the mission was here?”

“I was told that we were here in case the Northern Water Tribe was harboring the Avatar. I didn’t know Zhao had other plans until we got to the oasis. No one knew. All those soldiers died fighting blindly.”

“They’re all fighting blindly if they think this war is justified,” she returns.

He’s standing in the healing hut when she comes to check on him. He knows not to leave; there are four guards right outside in case the idea ever strikes him. His back is straight, and if he’s in pain, he hides it well.

Wordlessly, she sheathes her palms in water and presses them to his chest, searching for lingering damage to the bones. There’s barely any left.

“I hope you don’t get seasick.”

“I don’t.”

“We leave in a week,” she decides. A week is enough time to work out the details with Sokka, like where to avoid Fire Nation fleets and how much money she’ll be allowed to take with her, and which vessel she’ll be given. Sokka wants her to take a couple guards too, but she’s hesitant to add more stakes to the clandestine transport of the Fire Lord’s son.

He smirks. “You shouldn’t have healed me before we left.”

She’s seen what his hands can do. She won’t let that intimidate her. “You shouldn’t try anything. Not when I know exactly where you’re vulnerable.” Her hands can shatter as well as they can mend. He’ll learn that if he wants to survive the journey.

He could melt the shackles, but he doesn’t desire to have molten metal coating his wrists. This will be his last morning in the healing hut, and his first morning outside in weeks. Two guards grab him by each arm and force him forward, not that they need to. He has no qualms walking out on his own. He wants to leave this land as much as they want him to.

For a quick second, he pauses right outside the entrance of the hut, as soon as he feels the sun on his face.

He looks up to the sky. It isn’t red. It’s blue. He’s a traitor and a prisoner. But the sky is blue.

#zutaramonth2020 #zutara #zutaradreams

205 notes · View notes

justlightlysedated · 4 years

Text

for @zuluoscarecho 🥰🥰

Michael is in the middle of changing the oil on Mr. Jameson’s ancient Chevy, when there are hands wrapped around his ankles rolling him out on the creeper from beneath the hood of the car.

Michael takes in the military uniforms, tactical gear, and the fact that they all have their faces completely covered and is immediately on guard, trying to figure out how to get out of this without actually revealing his secret.

"Are you Michael Guerin?" One of them asks, voice muffled by their masks, but the command in their tone is unmistakable.

"Who's asking?" Michael asks instead, not wanting to give an inch.

"His face matches the picture, Number Two," another voice pipes up. "We can just take him and confirm once-"

The voice is cut off with a painful sounding hiss, but Michael's eyes are narrowed and on the person who seems to be in charge here.

"What are the charges?" He asks, pushing himself up to his feet, and letting the creeper slide back underneath the car. "Because I know you can't arrest me without a warrant."

The group of four soldiers are all pointing their guns at him, except the one called Number Two, whose eyes look too amused for Michaels liking.

"Who says we're here to arrest you?" They ask, and before Michael can think of something to say to that, one of the soldiers closest to him moves, swinging his gun and catching Michael right on the side of the head.

Fuck, Michael thinks as everything goes black.

Michael comes back to consciousness violently, fists swinging and feet kicking, his knuckles smart when he actually comes into contact with someone, who grunts in pain.

"Calm down, Mr. Guerin," the same commanding voice from before says. "We're not going to hurt you."

The only difference in the voice is that it's not muffled anymore, which is the only reason that Michael opens his eyes and gives them a pointed look in answer.

The woman in question is standing in the middle of the room, she's tall and regal looking, blonde hair kept away from her face by a braid. The other three soldiers are sitting on the opposite side of the small room, two more women, one wearing a hijab, the other a brunette with her hair cut short and severe aligning with her chin and a blonde guy, built like a linebacker, hair buzzed on the sides and cropped short on top, rubbing a red spot on his cheek and glaring at Michael, all of them looking around the same age, which is not any much older than he is.

“The fact that you knocked me out and then brought me here, wherever here is says pretty much otherwise, so excuse me for not actually believing that,” Michael says, ignoring the pounding in his head to sit up, not really liking being in a vulnerable position around so many people, especially considering these people were soldiers.

The woman, who he figures is Number Two, straightens up even more, tucking her hands behind her back, and she somehow looks even taller than before as she starts to speak.

“Our apologies, but we need your help,” she says, and keeps speaking before Michael can ask what exactly they need him for.

“We are Troop Eleven-Zero-Six of the USAF, in charge of infiltrating and retrieving. I am First Lieutenant, Barbara Wilson, but everyone calls me Number Two. My team,” she motions over to them and they all introduce themselves, but Michael is still caught back a couple of sentences before when she said they were part of the USAF, the Air Force, meaning that this was either his one way ticket to a dissection table or this had to do with Alex.

“I’m sorry,” Michael says, interrupting the guy who’d been rubbing his cheek earlier. “But I don’t really care who you are. What do you want with me?”

The guy opens his mouth, probably to argue, but Number Two steps up, holding a hand out to stop him before he can say anything.

“As of 0600 hours yesterday morning, our Captain, Alexander Manes was reported MIA, during what was supposed to be a simple routine pick up. Our assumption is that he’s been abducted and is being kept somewhere outside of our jurisdiction. My team has been put on the sidelines and told to wait, while inexperienced older men debate whether or not it would be worth it to use the resources to find him.”

Michael had always known that the Air Force was going to get Alex killed.

Even though it’s been weeks since the last time that he reached out to Alex, the distance making their connection waver and spotty most of the time, like an old radio trying to pick up radio signals that are out of range, Michael reaches out for him almost subconsciously, and he is marginally relieved to feel a sharp irritated nudge back, even if it’s Alex Code for leave me alone.

“What do you need from me then?” he asks, partially because he thinks he already knows what. But at the same time, their soulmate status is something that they never actually discuss with each other, so Michael had assumed that Alex had never told anyone else.

“You are his soulmate, aren’t you?” The girl in the hijab, who Michael vaguely remembers, had introduced herself as Carter, no first name, asks stepping away from the wall she’d been propped up against.

“He’s obviously not,” the guy who he’d interrupted before, and is now labeling, Blonde Asshole, says, a sneer on his face. “There is no way some backwards cowboy hick from Roswell is the Captain’s soulmate. I told you we should’ve checked his mark while he was unconscious.”

“That is an invasion of privacy,” Carter says, sounding disappointed.

Blonde Asshole scoffs, “We’re in the middle of an unsanctioned mission.”

The woman with short hair sends a truly impressive bitch face to the Blonde Asshole, and Michael thinks she introduced herself as Sabrina, “That doesn’t give you the sanction to act like such an asshole. Oh, wait, that’s just a delightful part of your personality.”

Blonde Asshole makes a mocking face at her, “It would’ve saved us the trip. The Captain’s life is in danger. We don’t have time to-”

Michael gets to his feet, effectively shutting him up and turns to Number Two, who stares right back at him.

“Alex is in danger?” he questions, sending a wave of worry to Alex, which is immediately cut off with a stone cold icy wall, like Alex doesn’t want to give him even an inkling of what he could possibly be feeling right now, which usually would make Michael scoff and roll his eyes and go to the bar and drink until he can dull the awareness of Alex in his head.

“Yes,” she says, simply and effectively changing the mood inside of the room. “Our mission before he went missing was highly classified, and it’s entirely possible that it pissed off the wrong type of people, and this is their way of getting revenge. They’ll interrogate him to get as much information out of him first, and then they’ll kill him. And the Captain is a hard nut to crack. He’ll withstand the torture for a long time. But I wouldn’t put it past the Commander to just drop a bomb instead of risking a rescue mission.”

“So we’re not only on a time limit, but we’re also risking possible dishonorable discharge, not to mention actual prison time, so if you’re not going to be any help, you may as well tell us now so that we can find another way to save him,” Blonde Asshole says, and he potentially sounds worried, but Michael ignores him and keeps looking at Number Two.

“So what are we waiting for?” he asks, not caring that he hasn’t confirmed that he is Alex’s soulmate.

He is, which is all that matters. He doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone right now. They’ll get their proof soon enough.

“For the plane to land,” Number Two says, and the plane hits a spot of turbulence on an otherwise completely still flight, and Michael drops down back to the row of seats that he’d woken up on, feeling a little dizzy. He has never been on a plane, and he doesn't understand why knowing he's actually in one, makes him feel worse than not knowing.

Number Two just reaches out and pats his shoulder, “Rest up. Once we hit the ground, there’s going to be no time for that.”

Michael nods his head, thinking that that is easier said than done, but as soon as he leans back against the seat, he feels his eyes flutter close, exhaustion hitting him like a wave, dragging him under and before he knows it, Michael falls asleep.

After the plane lands, he gets shuffled into a standard armored vehicle, squeezed between Blonde Asshole and Sabrina, who asks him if he's an actual cowboy or if he just wears the hat.

Michael doesn't really answer because since the moment he touched the ground, wherever they are, since he didn't exactly get an itinerary before he'd been kidnapped, he could feel his awareness of Alex coming back in full force, and now that he was closer, he could tell exactly why Alex had been pushing and putting up walls, and trying to keep him away.

Their bond was bright hot red with his pain, and not only was he going through whatever it was causing him pain, torture being the likely candidate, but he was also actively trying to keep their bond blocked.

Michael closes his eyes and concentrates fully on the piece of Alex that he had inside of him, feeling it light up in the back of his head, and right on the center of his chest, warm and pulsing.

Alex sends out a drowsy question, probably wondering what the hell Michael is doing, and Michael sends back an image of getting pulled out from beneath the hood of Mr. Jameson's Chevy by his team.

He feels Alex’s alarm sweeping through him, and before he can say or think anything else, Alex drags him out of his head.

Michael gasps as he feels overwhelmed with pain, stinging from the tips of his fingers to an ache in his chest that makes it hard to breathe to the excruciating pain of what he’s pretty sure is at least one broken leg.

Michael opens his eyes with difficulty and takes a look around the cell that they have him in, but there are no windows, and even if he could find it in himself to move, whoever took Alex has his hands cuffed together and tied to his cuffed feet.

If Michael concentrates, he'll be able to tug against the bond and use his powers even while in Alex's body, but before he can, Alex is dragging him out of his head and into their mindscape, a phenomenon that only seems to be possible when an alien is your soulmate since it's one of the many strange things about their bond that isn't like anyone else's.

Michael lets Alex tug him forward and check him over, asking about a million questions, but he can barely hear any of that.

His entire focus is taken up by Alex. Even though he knows that in the mindscape he's nothing more than a projection of his subconscious, which is why he looks all of seventeen years old, the same exact age they were when they fell in love and formed their bond. Michael can't help but be relieved at the sight.

He misses Alex so much while he's away, even more when he's overseas and he can't even get this.

Alex stops speaking, probably noting the lovesick look on his face, and he sighs, but Michael can feel the swell of affection pulsing through him.

"Guerin, focus," Alex requests, snapping his fingers in Michael's face.

Michael blinks a few times before he nods his head, “I’m here.”

Alex nods his head, “Good, now tell me. What do they have on you? Because I can convince Wilson to get lost while I figure out how to get out of here.”

Michael is too charmed by the way he puts air quotes around lost and forgets to actually pay attention to what Alex is saying.

Alex shakes him a little, and Michael blinks a few times before he realizes what Alex is saying.

“Oh,” he says, shaking his head. “This isn’t about me. Well, not about the alien thing. It’s about our soulbond. They think I can help find you.”

Alex furrows his brow and shakes his head, “Tell them no.”

“It’s already a little late for that,” Michael says a little sheepishly, pushing his recent memories towards him.

Alex just inhales deeply and closes his eyes.

"Fine, okay," he says, sounding defeated. "My team is good at extraction, and having a direct line to me through you should get the job done, but-"

He stops himself and turns to Michael, looking at him with a pleading expression, "But you have to promise me that you're not going to do something reckless and dangerous and expose yourself."

Michael wants to tell him that he will do anything if it meant getting him back safely, but he also knows that it's probably a declaration that Alex doesn't want to hear.

"I'll just lead them to where you are and stay out of the actual fight, you don't have to worry about that,” Michael says, and Alex gives him a look like that’s asking for him to do something impossible.

Before either of them can say anything else, Michael feels a jolt of pain coming from Alex’s side of the bond.

Alex grits his teeth, shutting his eyes tightly and shaking his head.

“Is that why you push me away sometimes, because you’re trying to protect me from this?” Michael asks without actually meaning to.

Alex blinks his eyes open, and just looks at him, and Michael can tell that he’s on the right track, but now isn’t the time to be discussing this.

Alex just breathes in deeply, and then narrows his eyes at Michael, and Michael feels a deluge of memories, scents and sounds and limited vision, of the drive to wherever it was that they took Alex.

It’s not a lot, but it’s enough for Michael to piece it together.

“We’re going to find you,” he tells Alex, infusing the words with as much conviction as he can.

Alex gives him a wan smile in return. “I know.”

Michael just nods his head and Alex closes his eyes, and then Michael drops back into his body like he’s been dropped from a great height.

He jolts and his eyes snap open, and he sees Number Two and Carter, turned around looking back at him.

He can feel Sabrina’s hands on his neck, and wrist checking his pulse.

“Is everything okay?” Number Two asks slowly, eyes darting all over him, probably worried that they’d concussed him earlier.

Michael nods his head, “Just conferring with Alex. I know how to find him.”

Number Two looks at him for a long moment, scrutinizing, before she nods her head sharply, "Alright then."

She turns towards the front starting the truck up again while Carter hands him her tablet with their location and the map pulled up, showing real time images.

Michael grabs it gratefully and starts looking for something that matches the memories that Alex gave him.

"Let's go get our boy back."

#malex fic #2kcelebrationfic #this was the first thing to pop into my head when i read your prompt so i hope that you like it :D

108 notes · View notes

juliandev0rak · 3 years

Text

You’re The Reason I’m Leaving

Chapter Three of I’m Your Villain

Words: 3063

Warnings: mentions of death, murder, all the usual things for a story about an assassin

The weather has turned from sun to pouring rain in the span of an hour, and Cadmus paces his room in a dour mood.

There are a few hours till nightfall when he needs to leave for Greythal, and he’s trying to strategize and pack his saddle bag but the incessant sound of the rain is too distracting. It’s giving him a headache and he could really use a nap, or a drink, but he has no time for either.

His pacing stops abruptly as he feels a presence at his back and he turns to see his door swing open soundlessly. It’s nearly impossible to sneak up on him after years of honing his instincts, and even his brother who has magical abilities that allow him to fade into invisibility can’t pass unnoticed.

“Come to see me off, then?” Cadmus smirks, taking in the sight of his younger brother leaning against the doorframe. Alastor looks expressionless as always, his demeanor cold as the icy color of his skin. The Durand family are all blonde, but Alastor’s hair is white.

Alastor takes a step into the room and Cadmus resists the urge to take a step back to distance himself from his brother. Alastor smiles, a look that reminds Cadmus of his father in its unnaturalness. “I wouldn’t be so happy if I were you, Cadmus. This isn’t an ordinary mission.”

Cadmus scoffs,“You’re just upset that father sent me instead of you.”

“No. I have missions of my own, far more important ones.” Alastor walks over to the window, peering outside with disdain.

“I doubt that, but since you’ve clearly come here to gloat about it- do tell me how important you are.” Cadmus rolls his eyes and turns back to the bag he’d been packing. If he has to stand here and listen to Alastor, he can at least do something more useful with his time.

“You have no clue, do you?” Alastor’s tone has gone even colder, his anger turning on like a light. Cadmus has the same temper, but while he’s fire- Alastor is all ice

“No clue about what?”

“You’re easily replaceable, if you fail someone will rise up to take your place.” Alastor sounds like he’s reciting the words from memory. “Father once told me that when you die there won't even be a funeral, you won’t get a burial. He said ‘Why would we make a monument to Cadmus’ failure?’ When you die it will be as if you never existed.”

Cadmus laughs, this is nothing he hasn’t heard before. “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’d like to be cremated then! Makes things easier for all of us.” He crosses the room to where his brother stands staring at the rain. “Now, did you have a point to make or did you just come here to be an asshole? I’m a bit busy if you haven’t noticed.”

Alastor scoffs and turns to face his brother, his expression returned to blank stone. “Good luck then, brother.” The way he says the word is like a curse.

Instead of using the door, Alastor turns towards the stone wall and walks through it as if it wasn’t there. Another of his fancy magic tricks. Their mother had always favored Alastor, she’d taught him all of the magic she knows and as he’d risen in power he’d also risen as a threat. He’s only a few years younger than Cadmus, but Cadmus knows he wants the throne.

Cadmus doesn’t care much for ruling. He thinks being the Comte would be boring, too much administration, not enough action. But it’s his right as the eldest and he’ll be damned if he lets his creepy shit of a little brother take it from him. Alastor is clearly willing to kill for the position, and Cadmus doesn’t doubt he’ll strike when the opportunity arises. So he keeps his guard up, not trusting even the stones around him.

Cadmus has got one more goodbye, and he’s saved the most important for last. His sister’s room is down the hall from his, around a winding corner where guards are always posted. Despite his cruelty, Daphne is the Comte’s favorite child by far. She’s kept in her gilded cage, only to be released some day when the perfect suitor arrives.

Before Cadmus can even raise his hand to knock on the door it swings open, revealing the excited face of his younger sister. She opens the door for him to enter and he takes in the sight of her room, drawn in by the color and vibrancy. Every wall is covered in paintings she’s done, and every window sill is full of plants. It’s her one sanctuary in this desolate place and though the room feels just as cold as the rest of the castle, it’s full of Daphne’s warmth.

“What did father say?” Daphne asks, pulling Cadmus further in so she can shut the door behind him.

Cadmus sighs, not wanting to disappoint her. “I’m afraid I have bad news. He wouldn’t budge.”

“Noooo.” Daphne puts her head in her hands dramatically and Cadmus would laugh if he didn’t hear real despair in her voice. “When do you have to leave again?”

“Tonight. But perhaps once Greythal has been secured father will be less worried about your safety. I’m sorry Daph.”

Daphne heaves a heavy sigh that seems to reveal the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. “I’ll survive, I always do. I have my books at least.”

“Don’t be too hard on Clarisse while I’m gone,” Cadmus says, thinking of the old woman who had been his governess and is now Daphne’s. She’d been strict, but kinder than his own mother had ever been. Or at least more present, which has to count for something,

“You should tell Clarisse not to be too hard on me! She’s practically made my fingers bleed with all the needlepoint she’s been forcing on me.” Daphne scowls, rubbing her fingertips together as if remembering the pain of a needle prick. “I want to learn to fight like you, or do magic! Anything would be more useful than sitting indoors all day. Mother says I’m too dull for magic but she’s never even tried to teach me!”

“She said I was too dull for magic too.” Cadmus laughs, “And trust me, you don’t want to learn to fight.”

“I think I’d look quite imposing with a sword.” Daphne strikes a pose, lifting her hand up as if she’s holding a weapon. Cadmus laughs at the sight of her, over a foot shorter than him and wearing a very impractical gown. She turns towards him angrily. “Nobody lets me do anything!”

“We’re simply trying to protect you, Daph. It’s safer inside the walls.” Cadmus reaches a hand out towards her shoulder but she shoves it away.

“I’d rather die than spend another day trapped in this drafty old castle.” Daphne crosses her arms and looks at him defiantly. It’s the same facial expression Cadmus wears when he’s pouting and while he thinks she’s being a bit dramatic, he understands the sentiment.

Cadmus sighs, unsure how to console her. “One day when you’re the Comtess or when you’ve married some handsome duke you’ll be able to see the world, but for now it’s safest for you here. You just have to be patient.”

“Now you sound like father. I thought you were on my side.” Daphne frowns and he notices a sudden mist of tears cloud her blue eyes.

It’s gone from a casual conversation to actual emotions, and though this is his little sister, the person he’s closest too in the world, Cadmus still has no idea how to handle tears. She watches him for a moment as a tear runs down her cheek and then turns away, hiding her face from him. He doesn’t know what to do but he doesn’t want her to hide things like he does, he doesn’t think he even has the ability to cry at this point.

“Daph,” Cadmus hesitates, then pulls her into a hug. She buries her head in his shoulder and though she’s silent, he can feel her shoulders shaking and the sleeve of his coat getting wet.

“Come back, please,” Daphne pleads, her voice muffled against his coat.“You have to come back. Don’t leave me here.”

Cadmus sighs, understanding her outburst more clearly now. It isn’t just being cooped up inside that’s bothering her, it’s him leaving. She doesn’t know exactly what he does when he’s gone on missions, but she knows it’s dangerous. He’s come back injured before, been left bed-ridden or worse for days, but she doesn’t know how close he’s been to dying.

“Don’t I always come back?” Cadmus says, trying to be comforting. Daphne pushes back from his shoulder to look at him, her eyes red from crying.

“But what if you don’t,” She sniffles.

“I will, Daphne, I promise.” Cadmus doesn’t like to make promises he doesn’t know he can keep, but he’s always come back before.

“I just know Alastor will be a terror while you’re gone.” She frowns, angrily wiping away tears.

“He’s always a terror. Just threaten him with one of your embroidery needles, that’ll scare him off,” Cadmus jokes. Daphne gives him a hint of a smile and pulls back from the hug, reaching into her pocket to pull out a needle.

“En garde!” She says, brandishing the needle forward towards Cadmus. He lets her tap his arm with the needle and then dramatically puts his hand to his heart. “Oh no! You got me!” He fake swoons, falling to the floor in a heap as Daphne bursts into laughter. After a moment she holds out her hand to help him up and Cadmus pulls her down instead, causing her to burst into giggles again. When they both calm down Daphne sits up, leaning against the wall as she looks at Cadmus.

“If you don’t come back I’ll track you down and kill you myself.” She looks at him very gravely, and though the words are humorous, he doesn’t doubt she’d try.

“You sound more like a Durand every day,” Cadmus laughs.

“And bring me back a present,” She says imperiously, with the tone of someone who has never been denied anything in her life. Which is pretty much the truth.

“Yep, definitely a Durand.” Cadmus reaches out to ruffle her hair and she pulls away with an annoyed noise. “I’ll bring you back a flower.”

It’s tradition that he always brings her something new for her botanical journal. He picks the prettiest flower he can find on his journey, whichever flower he thinks she’d like the best. Daphne catalogues the pressed flowers in her journal. and each entry is complete with a drawing and a label. Sometimes he brings her duplicates on accident, but she’s always just as pleased.

He gives her one last hug goodbye and then he’s off to find Agatha who is probably busy hunting mice. By the time his familiar’s been located the sun has begun to set and it’s time to leave. As he’s saddling his horse he looks up at the castle one last time. Silhouetted in the late afternoon light is his mother, standing in the window of the tallest tower.

Her private library and workshop are up there, it’s where he used to take magic lessons before she decided he was useless at it. He’s not allowed up there anymore, not that he minds. The tower also serves as a torture chamber for enemies unlucky enough to be brought in alive. Or for Durand sons who misbehave.

Cadmus turns away from the tower and his mother’s keen eyes and gets on his horse. There’s no use thinking about the past when he’s got the present to focus on.

—————————–

It’s a two day ride to Greythal through some of the ugliest landscape Cadmus has ever seen.

He likes the ocean views of Avronne, the way the cliff sides are both beautiful and deadly, covered in plants and trees which cling to life along their edges. The road to Greythal is all pasture and cows and manure. The city itself is on the coast, but the road there is anything but a trip to the seaside.

It rains the entire night, and when Cadmus stops to rest the next morning he’s thoroughly drenched and grateful for the weak sunlight coming through the clouds. He sleeps fitfully beneath a tree, his instincts on edge in case he’s seen from the road. He wishes he had someone here to take watch shifts, but working alone is safer. He’ll take sleep deprivation over a knife in the back from a traitorous partner.

Cadmus isn’t entirely alone at least. His horse Alecto is very dependable, and although Cadmus wouldn’t admit it- she’s a very good listener as well. He talks to her, and Agatha, as he rides. He tells them about the landscape, about his family, about how he sometimes wishes he could simply relax. Animals are good confidants, they can’t tell his secrets to anyone nor can they try to give him advice or lecture him like another person would.

The trip passes quickly, the landscape blurring together from rain and boredom. When he reaches the outskirts of Greythal on the morning of the party he stops to disguise himself and his horse, enchanting his hair brunette and his white horse spotted brown. He doesn’t intend to be seen by anyone, but it's a necessary precaution. He rides as close as he can get to the castle then continues on foot.

Cadmus surveys the area, looking for a path through the woods so he can avoid the road when he makes his escape later. He finds a well worn path in the dirt and commits the spot to memory. When he returns to his horse he finds Agatha coiling around Alecto’s neck. The horse doesn’t seem to mind the fact that a very deadly snake is in close proximity, Agatha poses no threat unless Cadmus instructs her to bite.

She’s his best tool of the trade, stealthier than he is despite her large size, and deadlier too. One bite from Agatha, or one drop of her venom which Cadmus keeps in a vial, can kill a person in under 15 minutes. He’s built up a tolerance to various poisons over the course of his training, hardly anything can kill him but a blade alone, yet Agatha’s poison would be too strong even for him.

Normally he doesn’t bring her along on his assignments. She’s nearly twelve feet long and isn’t exactly the easiest to travel with, but he’d had a gut feeling to bring her this time- and he always trusts his instincts.

Right now his instincts are telling him to run a perimeter around the castle to see what he’s dealing with. So he does just that, creeping through the underbrush of the woods until he reaches the low stone wall surrounding the castle on the hill. It’s an imposing building, larger than his family's castle. Greythal is a wealthy kingdom while Avronne is a smaller, if more powerful, city state.

Avronne is small but mighty, the seat of a power that reaches far beyond the city walls- that’s what the Comte says at least.

Agatha scouts ahead of him, her movements silent despite the loose brush she slithers through. If something is amiss she’ll alert him. Cadmus keeps his eyes turned towards the castle, watching for the movement of guards. He rounds east towards the back of the castle where he’ll find the princess’ window. Sure enough, a blackthorn tree sits beneath an illuminated window as Xiphos had said it would.

Cadmus takes in the vines which cling to the stone walls, likely strong enough to help him climb up. He tries to calculate how quickly he thinks he can climb it, his guess is around a minute, maybe less if he can get good footholds.

He considers hopping over the stone wall to enter the grounds for a better look when Agatha hisses at him in alarm. He instantly looks up, seeing a small figure he hadn't noticed waving at him. The figure stands from the bench they’d been sitting on beneath the tree and approaches his spot behind the wall, he’s been spotted.

“Fuck. Agatha, hide.” He uses the blade of his sword to inspect his reflection, satisfied that he doesn’t look like himself. Agatha slithers into the underbrush, close enough to defend Cadmus if need be. He considers running, but that would be even more suspicious, and as the figure approaches it’s clear that this is a child. He draws his dagger all the same, just in case.

“Who are you?” Calls the child, a young girl around his sister’s age. He takes in her clothing- expensive, perfectly clean, she must be a noble then. Cadmus doesn’t respond, waiting for the girl to explain herself instead. “Are you here for my birthday party?”

It’s then that he realizes the crown on her head, this is the princess.

He really should run. Instead he stays, stuck to the spot as he takes in the information that he’s been sent here to kill a child. That’s new for him. He’d known she was young- but this girl can’t be older than sixteen.

“My mother said there are lots of guests coming, are you a guest?” The princess asks. She’s blonde, and Cadmus has to blink hard to rid himself of the image of Daphne. She’s so trusting, so naive, so stupid to approach a stranger with no guards around to protect her.

Cadmus should kill her now while she’s all alone and he has the chance. He can kill her painlessly, so quickly that she’ll barely even feel it.

Instead he asks, “What’s your name?”

“You don’t know who I am?” She laughs, taking a step closer to the stone wall that separates them. Cadmus grips his weapon more tightly, but he still can’t make his hand move. “My name is Melia. What’s yours?”

He opens his mouth as if to answer but his body finally catches up to his brain. Cadmus runs. He doesn’t stop until he’s deep in the woods and as far from the girl as he can get.

He certainly hadn’t planned for this.

#cadmus durand #I'm Your Villain #chapter three is here and stuffs finally happening #hehe #give daphne a sword!!#oh yeah also agatha is like a giant snake which i didn’t fully realize until this moment #so just picture cadmus all cool walking around with a giant snake around his neck like a scarf

18 notes · View notes