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anika-ann · 3 years

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In the Strangest Place (We Just Might Find Love) - Pt.2

Type: two-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2750

Summary: You’re hiding from your boss in a supply closet, minding your own business, when a stranger joins you unexpectedly.

Steve is not entirely a stranger anymore; he knows about your troubles and you know about his. And he’s determined to sort out yours this very moment.

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment, a bit of angst, language, something that might be close to a panic attack if you squint

A/N: There we go... hopefully I’ll make mid-week a bit sweeter for some of you ;)

Part 1

“Alright, kids. Let’s have a trip.”

And you just stared.

…what?

“W-what?” you stuttered, suddenly consumed by the familiar feeling of losing the firm ground under your feet at the idea of trying to confront Gregory head-on. Not even Steve at your side was helping at all as the four of you started walking towards the IT department.

“I-I don’t have any prove! I can’t-- he told me he would--- that he would-”

“That he’d twist it around, convince the HR that you were crushing on him and he turned you down, which turned you into a soulless bitch craving revenge?” the billionaire finished for you and you just uselessly opened you mouth, unable to let out a word to deny it. It seemed to amuse him, because he scoffed; and there was something very bitter in that sound too. “Kid, he’s not the first asshole to take advantage of his superior position. I’ve seen the types. Relax. If Cap here believes you, then so do I. Plus, I know a liar when I see one. And you ain’t lying.”

You breathed in shakily, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest. Could it really be so easy? That couldn’t be right…

“T-thank you, Mr. Stark. I-”

“Yeah, yeah, just name your first kid after me,” Mr. Stark uttered, waving it off.

The Falcon next to you chuckled and you shot Steve a confused gaze. Was that how Mr. Stark usually was? You had never met him in person; you had only ever heard him giving a speech on TV and you knew he had a certain reputation, but this was… different.

You were surprised to find Steve watching you; perhaps he worried about your reaction to such bluntness, since he had seen your outburst in the closet. Upon meeting your gaze – probably shy and undeniably surprised – he charmed a tiny smile for you.

“It’s gonna be okay, see?”

“What are you even worried about? You have three Avengers coming with you!” Mr. Wilson questioned lightly and you bit your lower lip as you thought of the source of anxiety indeed.

Yeah, I have three Avengers and they are all men. Sue me for not being sure which side they would take – not until now.

“You’re not a full-time Avenger, Wilson.”

Falcon gasped, clutching at his chest theatrically at Stark’s remark. “Ouch, Tony. My heart.”

You let out a breathy laugh at their banter and felt yourself relax despite your better judgement. You almost let yourself believe it truly would go alright. Well, as much as dealing with such shitty thing could.

“You’re all my heroes,” you whispered timidly, which earned you a bright smile from Sam Wilson.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Cruel, Birdboy. You stole the old man’s line,” Mr. Stark hummed, amused.

“Heh! Sorry, Cap. But I’m sure you have a whole set of other lines to use on her.”

You choked on your own spit as Steve faltered in his steps, his grip on you growing stronger. What the hell did the Falcon just say?

“Oh my God, Wilson, shut up before we get stuck with another harassment report.”

“I don’t think this a subject for joking,” Steve interjected, slightly irritated, and you shot him a grateful look, because he definitely had a point.

Except… once you weren’t in such a sticky situation, you totally wouldn’t mind Steve Rogers using a line on you. Not at all. And his hand around yours felt nice for multiple reasons, the wordless comfort and support only being one of them. It was warm and slightly calloused, a reminder of his physical work, and it was bigger than yours, so sweetly and distractingly enveloping yours…

But now it was so not the time.

Your peculiar group approached the office and you didn’t even have the time to brace yourself as Tony Stark simply threw the door open, not bothering to knock.

“Thomas Ian Gregory, you are fired this very second,” the billionaire exclaimed dramatically.

You would think he was just being a drama queen, except he sounded deadly serious, using your boss’ full name which he must have read out on the door, and his eyes were throwing daggers at the man sitting behind the desk, looking as if he was the fucking king of the world.

Your boss blinked in surprise and eyed all four of you; Falcon with his arms crossed on his chest, Ironman minus his suit with a murderous glare and a hand raised towards him as if he wanted to point a finger and then Gregory’s gaze fell on your hand connected with Steve’s; you wanted to retrieve it quickly, but Steve wouldn’t let you, his grip growing firm. Anger flashed through your boss’ eyes for a second, before he composed himself and rose from his chair with an innocently confused expression.

You wanted to puke and you felt your legs turning into a shaking mess of jello. This was it. Now he would use his slimy words to turn this situation around and you were about to get fired and humiliated so much that jumping under a bus would be the most likeable option for you.

“Mr. Stark, it’s an honour. Captain Rogers, Mr. Wilson. What do I owe the pleasure?”

You couldn’t believe this--- this pig. Seriously. Who the fuck did he think he was?! How could he--- just lie so easily, pretending that everything was perfectly fine?!

But Tony Stark was not fooled by the charade and you mentally sighed in relief, sure they must have heard the weight falling off of your shoulders even in Jersey.

“I’m sure you heard me, Mr. Gregory. You quit and you’ll be hearing from the HR soon. And you’ll be damn lucky if this young lady right here won’t sue you.”

You honestly wished you were invisible when Gregory’s gaze flickered to you, subtle anger with a promise of consequences in his irises – consequences that would come should you not cut this bullshit right now.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr. Stark. If this is about the unfortunate feelings my assistant has for me-”

Tears of rage and baseless shame stung in your eyes at his words and you breathed in sharply to defend yourself; before you could, Gregory continued.

“Though I can see they weren’t very… honest. Obviously my inferior seems to be the ‘love them and leave them’ type, which I should warn you about, Capta-”

Breathless at his malicious made-out theories, you did not expect Steve to drop your hand in favour to tower over your boss, making him shut up with one single glare.

Alright, you could see why he had thought that simply appearing at your office would make Gregory tremble in fear. Your boss actually backed off and learnt onto a table, looking as if he was supporting himself under the weight of Steve’s judgement.

“I met this woman for the first time not half an hour ago, hiding from you, too scared of your dirty hands to return to her own workplace. Trust me, it left an impression, just like you are leaving one now,” Steve grunted menacingly, causing your heart to pound in your chest in fright even with his words not aimed on you. “If I can give an advice, you pack your things as fast as you can, apologize to her profusely, begging for her forgiveness and you don’t set a foot in this building or speak to her ever again. Do we have an understanding?”

You weren’t the only one affected. Your boss tried to reciprocate Captain America’s glare, but he failed miserably. He visibly gulped and circled his desk, still watching the soldier as if he was expecting to get hit; then his eyes just dropped to his desk and he frantically started picking random things from it.

You watched the scene in front of you, paralyzed. Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, pulsing in your temples, your breathing alternating between hitching and picking up. Your vision started to swim.

Holy. Shit.

“Cap, I think you broke her.”

Steve spun to you at instant, his eyes roaming your face; or you thought so. He looked worried now; or you thought so. Thinking and frankly evaluating the stimuli your senses were receiving was a bit difficult at the moment.

What the hell had just happened?

Gentle hands took yours, leading you out of the room. You blindly followed, unsure how to put one foot in front of the other, your body running on autopilot.

It was over. Thomas Gregory was no longer your boss and it had happened without you losing your job. And Steve Rogers had scolded him as if he was a five-year old kid – a very pervert one, but a kid nonetheless. Steve put a fucking fear of God into him. All of that happening within three minutes. And you just… couldn’t quite process all that.

You barely registered getting into and out of an elevator, being seated on a couch, having a blanket tossed over your shoulders and a cup of warm liquid pressed into your hands. You automatically brought it to your lips, only to be stopped by a tender fingers curling around your wrist.

“Careful. It might be too hot,” a pleasant voice warned you and you blinked, finally focusing your gaze, finding rather worried and very handsome face staring back.

You glanced at the cup, surprised to identify the drink as Steve’s hand let go of yours.

“Is that… is that hot chocolate?” you stuttered, bewildered. Well, more like… astonished.

“Yeah. You’re not allergic to milk or anything, are you?”

You looked up back to Steve’s face, only to find him with his brows furrowed in concern, lips thoughtfully pursed. It snapped you to action.

“No! No. It’s just… I didn’t have one in years. Thank— thank you.”

His expression cleared, as he was evidently pleased with himself. “Good. You’re welcome.”

The words fell off his lips so easily. As if he just hadn’t… hadn’t saved your career. Or your mental health, really.

You eyed the table by the couch, setting the cup down, only to fully turn to him. He seemed a bit confused at that; but God, you had something important to say and since you didn’t want to give up the blanket just yet, you decided to get rid of the mug at least to look less pathetic.

“No, Steve, I… thank you,” you whispered sincerely, feeling tears in your eyes for like a millionth time that day. His smile widened a little.

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry if I… if I scared you down there. It wasn’t meant for you.”

“You didn’t-” you blurted out in attempt to deny it and make him feel better, only to waver as his eyebrow rose, picture perfect of doubt. It made you chuckle at yourself self-deprecatingly. “It’s not your fault that I was… surprised by your little hulk-out. I guess I just didn’t see it coming.”

“Hulk-out, huh? How do you feel?”

You shrugged, exhaling slowly, thinking hard about your answer.

“Like I just watched my life take a way better turn that I would expect... and I’m still only watching,” you whispered honestly, which led to his face twisting in a grimace.

“Anything I can do?”

You couldn’t help it; you scanned your surroundings, realizing you were in something that looked fancy enough to belong to Tony Stark and was way too big to be part of an actual apartment. You ran your hand down the blanket covering your shoulders, reaching for the abandoned cup to blow on it softly and take a careful sip of chocolate. Steve’s questioning gaze observed you while you did so and you smiled blissfully into the cup as the delicious rich taste caressed your tongue.

“You mean besides comforting me despite being a complete stranger, getting my harassing boss fired and scaring the hell out of him, taking me to--- here, giving me a blanket and making the best cup of hot chocolate I had in years? Give me a second, I’m sure I’ll figure out something else,” you babbled and Steve’s smile grew, tense shoulders relaxing. “Seriously, Steve. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I owe you. I- I know you’re a hero and all that, but… yeah. I should be asking you what I could do for you in return.”

“That’s not-- I’m not--- ...you make a pleasant company,” he said in the end as if he realized he couldn't deny any of the things you had listed. You lowered your gaze to the chocolate as his eyes twinkled at the statement.

“Ditto.”

“Does that-” he blurted out and you tilted your head to side, watching him curiously when he stopped talking just as abruptly. “This is a terrible timing, but that’s apparently an infamous quality of mine, because usually I wait too long, and… uhm…”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suddenly embarrassed soldier scratching the back of his neck, peeking at your through his eyelashes. Was that--- was he trying to-? No, it couldn’t be.

“Yeah?” you softly encouraged him to continue.

He wetted his lips, causing your previously tight gut to warm up.

“I understand that it’s the last thing you’re thinking about right now, but… when you settle down again... and things are a bit calmer for you… would you- uhm, like to… maybe spend some more time with--- with me?”

If he had blurted the sentence in one go, you would have dropped your mug in surprise despite suspecting this incredible thing when he had turned bashful. But he didn’t so your brain had enough time to process the words slowly leaving his lips, one after another, little shy, little hopeful. Your heart was speeding up with each of them, ready to burst when he finished with a tiny nervous smile.

Well. How could you possibly say no to that irresistible creature in front of you? You smiled into your drink.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

His face lit up. “Really?”

You wanted to chuckle at the pure surprise on his face, but it was just too endearing and so you had to fight the urge to make an embarrassing sound like an aww instead.

“Yeah, Steve. I’d really like that,” you repeated, hiding the teasing note in your voice. “But you’ve got to teach me how to make a chocolate that good, because seriously, it tastes amazing.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” you demanded, a bit hurt, rather surprised. “I don’t want you to give up your secret recipe right away! Just… in time.”

He grinned at you boyishly, leaning a bit closer to you. You held your breath in anticipating, a the change. “I could. But then I wouldn’t get to enjoy the process of preparing it for you and your smile in return.”

You stared at him for few moments, taking the statement in, wondering if he was teasing you or was being serious. The corners of his lips were quirked up as if he was indeed joking, but there was a certain spark of honesty in his eyes.

You decided to play along, whether it was a game or not. Perhaps it was the relief of newly found freedom from a sleazy man in your life that plucked up your courage and woke up your jovial side.

“Aww, Steve, that’s so sweet. Is that your way of telling me you’re planning on spoiling me? Because then I would need significantly less time to… settle down.”

His grin widened at your words. “Is that so?”

“Mm.”

“Well then…” he brought up lowly, torturing you with anticipation when he didn’t continue, only to watch you with a mischievous smile.

“...then?”

“What are your plans for Friday evening?”

Oh, you were so glad you were sitting, because otherwise the force of the moment in which Steve Rogers asked you out on Friday night would knock you down.

You tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t sound like an over-enthusiastic YES, but his blue eyes staring into yours made it very difficult for you.

Dammit, it was harder to talk to him when you could actually see--- you smiled smugly at the idea that popped up in your head and raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.

“I’m hiding in a supply closet. Why, you wanna join me?”

Steve burst out laughing, throwing his head back with that sound and the picture armed your heart so thoroughly it was unfair.

“Sure thing. Would you like me to bring muffins and coffee or do you prefer an actual dinner?”

You found yourself laughing too and you suddenly believed that your life would indeed get better. It already had, after all.

S.R. masterlist

Beautiful divider by @whimsicalrogers

Thank you for the kind feedback on the first part and I hope you liked this one too :))

Thank you for reading!

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america imagine #captain america x you #captain america x reader #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #mcu #marvel #in the strangest place we just might find love #anika ann

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iwillbeinmynest · 3 years

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The Next Move - Bucky x Reader(f)

Authors Notes: So this takes place between episode three and four of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. It deters from cannon a little but I tried to bring it back. Also this isn’t a romantic pairing... at least, not yet.

Word Count: 1.8 K

Notes/Warnings: Attitude and Sass. Mentions of nightmares and dream violence, drinking. I don't think there are any show spoilers in here but I’ll tag it with spoiler tags just in case.

Masterlist

Sharron pulled up to the country Italian home. She parked in the driveway and paused before looking to the three men in her car. “She’s not going to be happy we are here and she’s really not going to be happy when she sees it’s you guys so, maybe don’t talk.” Sharron unfastened her seatbelt and swiftly got out of the car.

They looked at each other before following her up to the quaint little house.

Bucky noticed how Sharron was smiling and looking way too casual.

As if she read his mind she looked back at him, Sam and Zemo and said, in an erie sing-song voice. “Look like you're happy to be here.”

Zemo smiled immediately and Bucky wished he hadn’t seen it. Smiling Zemo was creepy.

Still, he fixed his expression from cautious to pleasant and nodded to Sam who grinned back at him.

This was ridiculous.

Sharron rapped her knuckles five times on the wood frame of the screen door.

“Solo minuto!” A voice from inside the house called in Italian.

They could hear footsteps heading towards the door.

A girl appeared into the hallway holding a bowl and spoon, she hadn’t looked at her front porch yet but froze mid bite when she did.

She locked eyes with Sharron and let her spoon clank back into the bowl. Her jaw tightened as she shook her head and began to turn around.

Sharron knocked again, “Wait, Y/N, please! This is important. I’m calling in a favor.”

Y/N stopped and let her shoulders drop with an exhale. “You only have one left. You sure you wanna use it?”

“I’m sure.”

Y/N straightened her spine and made her way to the door. She unlocked it and held an arm out, gesturing for them to all come in. When she closed the screen door she also closed and locked the front door, making the hallway dark. She pushed past all of them and headed for the living room.

When she made it to the drink cart she turned on Sharron. “ I have two rules Sharron. Two!” She opened a decanter of amber liquid and poured herself a tall glass. “You broke them both and you brought him with you. Of all people, Sharron!”

None of the three men knew who she was referring to.

Sharron nodded. “I know. And you know that I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t important.”

“And why deliver them yourself, huh? You’re doing pretty well out in Madripoor, I hear so why leave?” She finally took a drink.

“Y/N, please if you’d just let me explain-”

Y/N hissed at the sting of the liquor. “I have to move now! I finally have a good client base here and a house I’m actually comfortable in and now I have to leave. Why? Because you broke rule number two.”

Sam leaned into Bucky, “Wonder what the rules are.” He mumbled.

“The rules” She cut in, “Are that one: you call me first. I don’t really do drop in’s. And two: you don’t show up in the daytime.”

Sam nodded. Yeah, they’d broken those rules. “Look, I don’t know who you are but-”

“I know you don’t but the real question is do either of you?” Y/N crossed her arms and looked between Bucky and Zemo.

Suddenly, Bucky realized that she looked familiar but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t place her face.

Zemo took in a breath of subtle epiphany, “Y/N. Y/N Ross, right?”

Y/N’s face soured but she nodded.

Zemo turned to Bucky. “She’s the one who let the two of us meet for the first time.”

He still didn’t recognize her.

“I did my job. You tricked everyone in the building.” She argued.

“This is true.” He nodded with no signs of remorse.

Y/N looked to Bucky then to Sharron. “Why are you here?”

Sharron explained everything. Looking for the serum, finding the doctor before running for their lives, the Power Broker, the Flag-Smashers, all of it. “They need the next move and I don’t have it.” Sharron finished.

By now everyone had settled into a chair or onto one of the couches.

“The next move being?” She nudged the conversation forward.

“We need to get in contact with Karli.” Sam spoke up.

“I don’t have a way to contact her. I don’t deal with people like that.” Y/N said plainly.

“You have contact with people much worse than her.” Bucky guessed. “Which means someone you know has contact with her.”

Y/N studied Bucky for a moment while she decided how to respond.

Sharron cut in before Y/N had the chance to start another argument, “You know a lot of people, Y/N. Surely someone can get them to her.”

Y/N looked at Sharron for the millionth time. “You’re really willing to stick your neck out for these guys, huh?’

Sharron nodded.

Y/N finally relented and sighed.

The trio visibly relaxed. She was going to help.

“How long do you need to stay here?”

“As long as you can give us.” Sharron said.

“Three days. I’ll have to be gone after that.”

“Three days then.” Sam agreed for everyone.

* * * * * * *

Y/n sat in her desk chair in front of half a dozen computer monitors and holographic screens. She sat and worked there for hours. Reaching out to whoever she could toget this task done for Sharron and she’d made it clear that she was only doing it for her.

Bucky and Sam sat in the dining room watching her from a distance.

“Do you remember her at all?” Sam asked.

Bucky shook his head. “She looks familiar but...not really.”

Sharron brought the two of them a cup of coffee, went back for her own and joined them at the table. “Y/N worked at the Joint Counter Terrorism Center in Berlin. Her uncle is Agent Ross, who took her in after her parents died during the battle of New York. She supervised Barnes when he was detained. It was her job to make sure he ate, had water...and she was also in charge of approving who made contact with him. Zemo slipped in and she only realized something was wrong when she looked through the small window and saw him reading the words from that book.”

Bucky looked back at Zemo who was reading on the couch.

“She didn’t know what to do so she ran to find me. In the chaos, she ended up near the cafes where you- or not you,” She looked to Bucky, “Came stalking towards her.”

Bucky got a sinking feeling in his gut. “I don’t remember her.”

“Because she wasn’t your target. You’d been given a different directive. She stood in your way, she told me that she hoped to possibly stall you a bit.” Sharron huffed a single chuckle. “She’s got guts if anything.”

“What did I do?” Bucky felt that familiar guilt creeping up.

“The Soldier,” Sharron specified, “Threw her through a wall.”

Bucky closed his eyes. He felt like he should remember that.

Sam wanted to console him, to remind Bucky that he and the soldier were two different people, but he knew it wouldn’t change how Bucky felt.

“She later helped me steal the shield and your wings.”

“And that’s why she’s on the run.” Sam realized, “Same as you.”

Sharron nodded.

“So why is she here in Italy? Why not Madripoor?” Sam asked.

“Because she hates big cities!” Y/N called from the other room.

Sharron chuckled and Sam looked around, shocked that she was listening.

* * * * * * * *

Later that night Bucky jolted up from a nightmare, this one about Y/N. He was back in Berlin where Zemo had read the words to him and he came up on her in the cafe. Only this time he shot her. That’s what made him wake up.

He silent padded to the kitchen in hope of getting a glass of water. When his bare feet hit the cold tile he noticed the faint sound of the tapping of a keyboard. He turned the corner and from the doorway saw Y/N still at her computer.

“You’re up late.” She said without looking up.

“Have you been working this whole time?” Bucky asked, turning back to get his glass of water.

“No,” She called to him. “I watched two hours of t.v. around midnight.”

Bucky smirked at that. He returned and pulled up a chair near her desk. “Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all.” She yawned.

Bucky sat in silence as he studied everything she was doing. She was in several dark web chats -in multiple languages- with users he didn’t know. All while simultaneously running tracer programs and reviewing satellite images.

She worked for nearly a half hour before she finally spoke again. “So what woke you up?”

Bucky shook his head. “I was thirsty.”

“It’s none of my business, sorry.” She knew he was lying.

“Where will you move to?” He changed the subject.

She shrugged and leaned back in her chair. “I’m looking at moving to Koh Chang.”

Bucky nodded but felt like it was his fault that she had to uproot and leave.

“But it’s time to move anyways. I was getting too comfortable. Besides I think I’m nearing the ‘escape to a tropical island’ stage of my life.” She said with a grin.

“I-” Maybe it was the exhaustion or maybe he was actually making some progress but either way he needed to say something, “I’m sorry for what I did to you... in Berlin.”

“I know.” She stopped and looked at him. “I’m sorry for being so cold. I’ve been told I have a bad attitude.” She mocked herself.

Bucky chuckled but sombered pretty quickly when he noticed a scar on her shoulder. “Did I do that?”

Y/N followed his gaze, “Yeah,”

As hard as it was to hear, he appreciated that she was honest and didn’t seem to pity him.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated.

“You don’t have to be.”

He looked up at her, finally tearing his eyes away from the mark he’d unknowingly left on her.

Y/N shrugged. “I let him in. If anything I should be apologizing to you.”

“Lets just call it even, then.” He offered a weak smile.

She took it and returned one. She took a breath to say something when her computer made a soft chime. She whipped her head over and exhaled. “Gotcha. She’s in Riga, Latvia.”

Bucky sat up. They were getting closer.

Y/N stood from her sat and with a swipe of her hand through the air, all of her computers went black. “It’s time for me to get some sleep. I hope finding her helps you find some peace.”

He nodded and looked down at his empty glass. “Thank you.”

She smiled and patted his shoulder as she passed. “I know I was a bit bitter when you first showed up but...most of that was towards Zemo.” She let her hand fall and softened her voice. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

Bucky sat there as she walked away. No one had ever said that to him before.

He went back to his room and pulled out his little notebook. He wrote her name down on the list of people he needed to make amends with and then immediately ran a line through it.

Then, for the first time in a long time, he slept peacefully.

* * * * * * * *

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

“Until spring comes.” (Freydis’ PoV)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Freydis/Reader (onesided)

Summary: A little snippet of what happens during chapter 38-39 in Freydis’ PoV

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: The usual, passing mentions of injuries/broken bones, and of death/killing.

A/N: This is just the result of me trying to get my writing motor running smoothly again, so it isn’t that impacful or that good lol, so feel free to skip it.

This is her take on the night the reader made her choice, from the middle of the day before to the next one. A bit of fluff, a lot of unrequited pining (like holy shit, I really didn’t intend for her to be that into the Reader but oh well), and out came this. I hope you enjoy!

The man looks at her strangely, as if asking her a question with his eyes alone. Whatever it is, Freydis doesn’t understand, and pushes him with a quiet greeting.

“I…I was sent here to fetch something for pain.”

“What kind of pain? It matters to know that, you know.” You ask from behind the half wall, and even if your voice is as soft as ever the man’s eyes widen and…is that fear?

“A broken bone.”

And when you walk out, Freydis understands why the man was so scared. For such a small woman, you stand as tall as Valdís when you look into his eyes and, head tilted to the side, press,

“I know you. Why d-…?”

“F-For the King,” The man states, interrupting you. He folded quickly, Freydis thinks to herself. “There was an accident near the new stretch of the wall, he-…one of his legs is broken.”

You nod your head, hold your back straight and hold worry and what she is sure to be anger back, and dismiss him with short words. He leaves, and Freydis lingers for as long as you do in the short silence where you take a breath and lower your gaze.

Deciding to give you a moment, Freydis reaches for the small wooden box you asked her to safeguard months ago, where you keep the herbs you seem to be so familiar with, and some she has never seen before but you dashed for when a shipment from the East came with them.

When you turn to her, she offers you the planter of what you called ‘comfrey’ but she has always known as knitbone, the vibrant plant of bell-like purple flowers. You smile in thanks, and walk towards her to get to work.

“I told him not to-…” You bite back your anger with a sigh, shaking your head at yourself, “I married a stubborn, stubborn man.”

Freydis watches you leave, and wonders if you recognize the hypocrisy in complaining about that.

____

You don’t return for the rest of the day. Granted, there isn’t much left of the day by the time you leave, but…it irks her, that the routine she’s so comfortably settled in, where you both close the main door to the shop and overlook what supplies are left, talking quietly with one another before you hug your goodbye and return to the longhouse; is something she will be lacking today.

She wants to resent him. She does, if she is honest.

For having your attention, for having your love, for having your…you.

Because now you are with him, focusing on tending to him even though she knows he will try not to let you, offering him attention and gentleness even though she knows he does not deserve them.

Then again, she doesn’t think she deserves them either.

And yet you offer them regardless.

Freydis tries bending her stiff fingers, but all she manages is to make a jolt of pain run through her arm, all the way to her elbow. The pain is so blinding she has to grit her teeth to keep at bay a cry.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask, not hesitating to drop your work and walk towards her. There’s a small furrow in your brows as you take the hand she was massaging in your own. “Are you in pain?”

“How do y-…?”

“She’s very good at noticing that,” Valdís grumbles from her place next to her, still carving away at a piece of wood. The shieldmaiden grunts, “And the arrogant little witch won’t let you forget it.”

You offer the other woman a smile, but there’s concern still clouding your features, making the softness of your expression a little more cutting. Freydis lingers for a few breaths too long on the realization she is at the other end of your concern, of your care. It makes her feel warm, safe.

“I have to be attuned to others’ pain, I am a healer,” You argue, but it is half-hearted. Your eyes search Freydis’, and you ask quietly, “Are you hurt?”

“No, I just…” Freydis tries squeezing her hand into a fist, but her fingers don’t obey, her joints feel stiff and fat and she can barely move her fingers when pain shoots through her arm. It causes a bit of panic to rise within her, she won’t lie. “There’s something wrong with my hand.”

Your dainty fingers feel cold -they always do- as careful but certain fingertips run between the bones of Freydis’ hand, thumb pressing lightly down the center of her palm towards her wrist.

“There’s nothing wrong with your hand, you’ve just overworked yourself,” You reassure her softly. She nods her head, expecting you to let go and let her get back to work, since you have to be well aware a former slave knows quite a bit about working past the pain, past the point of exhaustion even; but you don’t let go of her hand. She tries tugging her hand out of your grasp, but you hold on, resolute when you state, “I can help.”

“You don’t need to.”

You frown, as if affronted, “I want to.”

It takes you a few moments to gather what you need, before you’re grinding buckeye and arnica, adding it to a thick oil of knitbone root that you have perfected in these last months.

Sitting next to her once again, you extend a hand, asking for hers. Freydis hesitates for only a moment, before putting her hand on yours, letting you work the salve into her skin.

She could swear you breathe a little easier now that she has let you help her, and she wonders -not for the first time- what this ground under her feet has done to deserve you.

She wonders, sometimes, the kind of woman you were before the Christians and their fire. Before you were made queen of the Greeks, before everything. Freydis thinks she sees glimpses of her, more and more often lately, when you sit across from one of the younger girls and teach her how to grind herbs, your eyes bright and kind as you guide her hands; when you walk by her through the streets and catch sight of Hvitserk or that brunette he is always around of, your face lighting up as you wave your greeting; when she drags her feet to the longhouse and finds you sitting by Ivar’s side, your smile lovesick and your eyes hopeful as you look at him.

She wonders if you would have met, she wonders…she wonders if you would be able to see a friend in her, when all you were was a healer that had never known what it was like to lie, that had never chosen to do the unthinkable in the name of survival.

She thinks bitterly that a different fate couldn’t even change the way you feel about him, and doesn’t bother telling herself it is anything other than jealousy.

You won’t ever lose me because of Ivar, you told her, and with time she is starting to believe you. It is a little scary to think of how much she needed words that spoke of what she wanted to hear that, past all the ways she knows better, she finds herself believing them.

But she has reason to. She knows that against the way you know better you try -and succeed, you’re too stubborn not to- to be honest, about everything. And she knows she has reason to believe you when you tell her not even the King can take you from her.

She knows between Ivar and her your choice will always be him, but that she understands. Most would say she doesn’t, but Freydis knows what love is.

____

Freydis keeps her eyes on the darkening sky, wondering how many are watching the falcon circle the longhouse with almost stubborn insistence. Wondering how many will be foolish enough to believe it a sign from Freyja, and not a world of Gods not their own demanding to have you back with it.

You told her a while ago about the deal you and Ivar made, and his promise to let you go when the time comes that you choose to. She knows Ivar is living on borrowed time.

Even if she didn’t know, she would have noticed something was tearing at the King from the inside, and it seems he had more than enough reason to feel that way.

She certainly feels the same.

She told you that she would be with you wherever the Gods took you, and she meant it more than she ever meant anything else. But she wants you to stay. She wants the routine of watching you work as a healer even with a crown on your head, she wants to hear you and that shieldmaiden argue and laugh, she wants to see that shine in your eyes whenever you are with Ivar.

She wants you to stay.

Still, she leaves the door to her home unlocked and, as the night falls, she waits for your presence at her door with a heavy heart, waiting for you to come ask her to let you cross past the barrier of this world to return to theirs.

But you don’t. You don’t come as the sun sets; you don’t come as the heavy darkness of night settles over Kattegat.

The falcon gives up and flies back towards the woods, and Freydis…Freydis almost wants to go to you, to find out what is keeping you here.

But she realizes she knows what it is.

“So, witch.” Valdís starts, taking a seat on the chair across from you and putting her feet up on the one next to her.

“So, shieldmaiden.”

“You insist on calling me something I am not.”

“That makes two of us, then.”

The ruggish woman offers the beginning of a smile at your wit.

“When you have a few princes and princesses,” Valdís starts, and Freydis’ eyes leave the infusion she was so carefully trying to get right to focus on you. She notices the way you falter, but the shieldmaiden doesn’t. Or, if she does, she doesn’t care. “Will you teach them our ways, or yours?”

“I-…um…” You lower your gaze to your hands, before shrugging, “Hiereia of Per-…of Despoina make cruel mothers.”

“Hiereia, that’s what you were back in Greece?”

“A few things more than that, but yes,” You return your attention to your work, “It is said women like me are cruel women to love. We aren’t…we aren’t fated to be good wives, good mothers.”

“They say the same about shieldmaidens,” Valdís comments, shrugging. Freydis notices the nonchalance is a farce, and something like a fierce kind of affection shines in the woman’s eyes. “And they are wrong. Have you noticed tis never witches, or shieldmaidens, who say those things? There’s a reason for that.”

“Will you tell me they just don’t understand?” You ask, a quirk in the side of your mouth as you tease the shieldmaiden.

But Valdís doesn’t falter, “They fear, they will always fear a woman that can be what she wants and still be a woman.”

“I don’t know what I want to be.”

“You do,” Valdís doesn’t hesitate to point out, “And no one, and certainly no title, can stop you from being it. You know that, even Ivar knows that.”

Your eyes meet Freydis’ for a fleeting moment, as if you want to find in her gaze the answer as to why Valdís speaks so surely, as if she too knows of the choice you will one day make. She returns the same confused stare, because she hasn’t spoken a word about your deal with Ivar to anyone, least of all to the woman that threatened her life if Freydis is to ever betray you again.

“What are you saying?” You ask, uncharacteristically braced and uncertain as you look at the shieldmaiden.

“I’m saying he can’t stop you, no one can,” The woman offers a crooked smile, “So, since it will be your choice to make: will your children be raised as Greeks or as Vikings?”

Your eyebrows raise, your breath leaves you, and something like pain intertwined with hope shines in your eyes; and Freydis feels the strange urge to shield you from Valdís’ gaze, to keep your weakness safe from the woman’s knowing eyes.

But she stays in her spot, and watches a small smile slowly appear on your lips. Incredulous, almost afraid, wobbly smile that it is; it makes Freydis feel warm.

Yet she also knows what world you leave behind. She may not speak your tongue, or be familiar with your Gods, or know of your ways; but she knows how much you miss them, how much you love them. How much pain they caused you.

And Freydis, better than maybe anyone, knows why someone might choose to hold on to something, even if that something is the jagged edges of a knife that cuts and hurts.

She also knows what it is like to finally let it go.

So, telling herself it is to try and give comfort however she knows how to -with shadows and secrets and lies- she shrugs on the cloak and sets off through the darkened streets towards the spot she knows will grant her an easy way out of Kattegat.

____

A woman, a woman not much older than Freydis, of dark skin and big almost-black eyes strides out of the safety of the darkness, her gaze probing and cold as she looks her over, gauging whether or not Freydis is a threat.

Freydis cannot help but linger on her hair, the tight braids that are so similar to what she sees the shieldmaidens and warriors wear but at the same time so different.

“She won’t be here,” The woman states gruffly, voice accented and rough around the words. At Freydis’ stunned silence, she betrays what in someone less guarded would have been a smile. “I learned a bit of your tongue. Sieghild taught me.”

“Oh, th-the shieldmaiden.”

The woman narrows her eyes, ignoring her words and insisting, “Why are you here, Varangian?”

“You called for her.” Is all the explanation Freydis can offer. For some reason, this woman makes her uncomfortable, puts her on edge, and yet she cannot bring herself to resent her for it.

Dark eyes roam over Freydis’ figure, before something like a smirk teases at full lips, and the accented voice turns teasing when the woman states, “You aren’t Y/N.”

“She…is needed elsewhere.”

The smile trembles, and Freydis knows what that feeling is, “Him. The King.”

She doesn’t know what to say, since it isn’t even a question. Freydis lingers in between two paths: calling an end to this careless curiosity that got her here and turning her back and returning to Kattegat, or…

“Why did you come here?”

“There was word the King had…returned.”

“A test, then?”

“In part, yes,” Dark eyes look over Freydis’ shoulder, focusing on the world at her back. “I had known winter was his, but…it won’t be just this winter, will it?” At Freydis’ silence, the woman focuses on her, and there’s a strange edge in her gaze that Freydis knows well. The anger at one’s own weakness, the feeling of unwanted attention at having someone witness you falter. “Are you usually this quiet, Varangian?”

“I have a name,” She mentions, defensive. Her name was one of the first choices she was able to make. She wants to be called by her name. For good measure, she offers, “Freydis.”

“Galla.”

She nods in thanks, or in recognition, she isn’t sure.

“Is there anything I can…do?”

Big eyes narrow in her direction, and Freydis sees you in that small gesture, “Why would you want to help us?”

“Y/N would want me to.”

“Don’t speak of her as if she were dead,” The woman snaps, the wood of her walking stick creaking under her tightened hold. The sound seems to be so loud in the quiet forest. Galla’s eyes leave Freydis’, and she takes a deep breath, “We are fine, we will survive winter just fine.”

“Foreigners settling in our land is not something Jarls and Earls will easily accept.”

“Varangians aren’t a threat to us,” The woman states, not an ounce of hesitation her tone, “What threatens us is the same beast that waits for us back home.”

“Christians?”

“Their God,” She sentences. Galla eyes Freydis carefully, before deciding to take a few steps closer. Freydis tenses, but doesn’t move. “If you find a friend of yours praying before a cross, Varangian, do not make the same mistakes we did. Slit their throat before they can spew their lies.”

Their eyes meet, and there’s something in the woman’s dark eyes that makes Freydis feel a little more understood, if nothing else.

When Galla steps back, Freydis rushes to find something to say.

“Will you come back? Try again?”

“She made her choice,” Galla sentences, though it isn’t an answer. Her eyes set over Freydis’ shoulder again, and an almost-smile curves the woman’s full lips. “There isn’t a soul on earth that can make that woman change her mind against her will.”

Freydis offers a smile of her own.

“Should I…tell her something?”

“Why would I leave a Varangian to say goodbye for me?” The woman states, a teasing edge that makes Freydis feel a little more comfortable, let go of a tension she didn’t know she was holding. Galla’s eyes seem to twinkle in the low light. “You’re a brave one, Freydis. I hope I can see you again,” She doesn’t give Freydis time to take in -much less come up with an answer- her warm words, before the Greek steps back again and, nodding her head in goodbye, promises, “Until spring comes, Varangian.”

She bows her head too, and offers, “Until spring comes.”

Freydis watches the darkness of the forest embrace her, as who embraces an old friend. Galla’s footsteps are so quiet, she can almost believe she is alone in the forest as she makes her way back, but she knows better.

____ ____ ____

So, what do you think?

I am still clinging to writing that AU where Freydis and Reader end up together, just sayin’...It can’t happen in this canon of Nostalgia bc it just can’t, but I could write an AU of these two ending up together. I want to write slash for Freydis. If you wanna read some stuff for her, hit me the fuck up, I’d love to fill some requests in f/f pairings.

Anyhow, thank you for reading, hope this was okay!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @chibisgotovalhalla @the-a-word-2214 @fae-sedai @crazybunnyladysworld @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside @aprilivar

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #freydis x reader #freydis #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

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buckyssoldat · 3 years

Text

New future (Sam Wilson x Reader)

Summary: After her first mission with Bucky and Sam, they decide to celebrate. Something happens between her and Sam, something that opens a door to a new future.

Word count: 1544

Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption, Sam and reader being drunken dorks, Bucky being the babysitter

A/N: Thought it would be nice to post this to celebrate the premiere of ‘The Falcon and The Winter Soldier’. Hope everyone likes it!! Also, please check my series ‘Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier’. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :)

“Calm down. You were trained for this, it will all go well.” Sam tried to reassure her. They were outside of an old Hydra base, waiting for Bucky to join them after his rounds around the place. There were rumours about strange activities occurring there, so they had to check. This was also her first mission with the two men. She was previously a Shield agent but was jobless since it fell down.

She took a deep breath. She usually didn’t feel too nervous before a mission, but this time was different. It was her first time working with the super soldier and the Falcon, and she wanted to impress them, especially Sam. Her crush on him appeared as soon as she first saw him. It was impossible not to like Sam – he was handsome, funny, and kind, everything she liked in a person.

“No one is outside, no guards, nothing” Bucky spoke through the intercoms, “We can get in.”

She took another deep breath and entered the base along with Sam.

As soon as the two of them passed through the front doors, they were met by a group of armed men, ready to fight them. Sam tried to call Bucky, but their coms where not working. They were probably being jammed by some weird signal. She and him had no choice but to fight the men.

Sam and she were fighting in such synchrony. It was undeniable that the pair had a lot of chemistry. They had trained together for months, so they already knew every trick each other had, which made it easier when it came to fighting.

“Great work, rookie” Sam teased her as she knocked out the last man standing.

“You know, I’ve been doing this longer than you, bird brains” she teased him back.

Sam scoffed before they started walking down the dark corridor. It was apparently empty. The only people there were the armed men they fought at the entrance.

“There’s only old files here” they suddenly heard Bucky’s voice, “I grabbed everything. Meet you back at the jet.”

“Okay Bucky, we’ll meet you there” she answered him.

The pair headed back to their Quinjet, where Bucky was already inside, waiting for them. Turns out, the files he had found had nothing relevant, only old information they already knew.

“Now this was a bust” she complained after reading the files.

“It wasn’t a bust, I got to see you kick some ass” Sam complimented her with a smile on his face, “Seriously, you did great back there.”

“Thank you Sam” she smiled at him.

After they got back home, Sam suggested they all went out to celebrate her first mission with them. Since she liked to party and both Sam and Bucky were going, she gladly accepted the invitation. All she had to do was shower, put on some makeup and a bomb outfit and then meet them at the club. She decided to go with a short black dress, one that would make everyone drool, but the only person she wanted to impress was Sam. Maybe that was gonna be the night she finally confessed her feelings to him. Maybe.

Sam decided on a big club in the centre of the city. Music was blasting and a lot of people could be seen dancing and having fun. When she got there, she was a bit lost. She tried to find a familiar face, but nothing. After searching through the crowd, she finally managed to find them, sitting in one of the tables next to the bar.

“Finally!” She said when she finally got to the table, “I’ve been trying to find you two since I got here.”

“Well, you found us!” Sam happily told her. His breath smelled like alcohol, which took no time for her to notice that.

“Are you drunk already?” she asked him.

“Nope, we just got here like half an hour ago. We just drank a tequila shot so Bucky could get loose. He hates places like this” Sam said with a devilish smile plastered on his face.

“Hey!” Bucky yelled once he heard his name.

“Great, let’s do some shots then. It’s time to get even more loose, Mr Barnes” she grabbed the super soldier’s arm and started dragging him towards the bar, “We’ll bring the shots back here, Sam!”

Two hours later, both her and Sam were totally drunk off their asses and having crazy dance battles with each other, while Bucky stared at them from the table, silently judging them. Due to the serum running on his blood, getting drunk was a difficult task, so he was barely touched.

“Come on, we should take you two back home” Bucky said when he approached, “you two are too drunk to continue this.”

“We’re nooooooooooot” she protested while pouting. “We’re perfectly fine.” She tried to walk in a straight line but failed miserably.

Bucky grabbed both of his drunk friends’ arms and dragged them outside. After fondling through Sam’s jacket pockets, he finally found the keys to his car.

“Bucky, your hair is so fucking soft” she said as she ran her hands through his hair. “You look like a model.” He just sighed and ignored her, because he knew she was drunk.

He drove them back to Sam’s place so they could sleep it off.

“You two are gonna sleep now, okay?” Bucky advised as he watched her lay down on the couch, while Sam took the loveseat next to her.

“But we’re not sleepy Bucky!” she protested, “We want to dance!”

“You’ll dance tomorrow morning, now it’s time to sleep” Bucky turned off the lights and closed the front door, leaving Sam and her alone.

“I don’t wanna sleep” she whined, “I wanna dance Saaaaaaaam!”

Sam grabbed his phone from the coffee table and put on the first song that appeared on Youtube. She then got up from the couch and started dancing, soon followed by Sam. They danced for as long as they could, eventually getting tired and laying back on the couch. She was with her back against the bed frame, while Sam was with his head on her lap.

“You smell nice” Sam mumbled, making her chuckle, “You look pretty too.” She laughed again. “I’m serious, you look very pretty! How are you still single?”

“I don’t know” she answered while laughing at the same time.

Suddenly, Sam cupped his cheeks with both of his hands and pressed his lips against hers. She was surprised at first, but eventually kissed back. When both pulled away, they started laughing like crazy.

“I can’t believe we just did that!” she said between laughs.

They stopped laughing when they heard someone opening the front door.

“I knew you two were still up!” Bucky exclaimed as he entered the apartment, “Come on, I’m too old to be your babysitter.”

“Uuuh, okay old man” she mocked him.

“Why were you laughing so loud? I could hear you two on the hall” the super soldier informed.

“We were laughing because we kissed!” she answered him with a giggle.

“What? You two kissed?” Bucky looked at them in disbelief. “Well, fucking finally. I was tired of seeing you look at him with hearts on your eyes. Come on, you need to sleep now. You’ll talk about that tomorrow.” Bucky helped her get to the spare bedroom Sam had, and then put his other friend on his own bedroom. “If you don’t sleep now, I’m coming back and I’ll kick your ass.”

“Okay cyborg” Bucky mocked him.

For the second time that night, Bucky put her and Sam to sleep. Instead of leaving, he decided to sleep on the couch in case they decided to get up and do something stupid. Much to Bucky’s luck, they did fall asleep this time.

In the next morning, she and Sam woke up with a hangover. None of them remembered what happened the previous night, including the kiss they shared. And when Bucky was about to tell them about it, he realized they didn’t remember, so he decided to tease them about that.

“Did you sleep here?” Sam asked him as he entered the living room.

“Yeah, I had to in case you decided to do something stupid.”

“Good morning” she greeted them.

“Good morning” Bucky answered with a weird look on his face.

“What’s going on?” she questioned while furrowing her eyebrows, “Why is the old man acting so weird?”

Bucky chuckled, “You two don’t remember anything about last night?” None of them answered. “So you two don’t remember that you kissed?”

“WE WHAT?” She and Sam yelled at the same time.

Even though Sam was pretending to be shocked, he was feeling like the happiest man in the world inside. He had loved her since the first time she kicked his ass on the training room. How could he not love her? She was the most perfect person he had ever met and all he wanted to do was be with her.

She was feeling the same way. After all those months, she finally kissed the man she was in love with, even if neither of them remembered it. Maybe this could open doors to a new future, a future they were gonna share together.

masterlist

#justsamwilson #sam wilson one shot #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x reader #the falcon one shot #the falcon x you #the falcon x reader #the falcon x y/n #sam wilson fluff #the falcon fluff

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squishneedsahero · 3 years

Text

Self Discovery

It’s Who I Am

Part 2

Description: How would The Falcon and The Winter Soldier have played out if you, the younger daughter of Howard Stark got involved? You had been kidnapped by HYDRA at a young age, your mind taken from you as they forced you to work towards creating new weapons for them and when HYDRA had fallen you had gotten free with your scattered memories for you to slowly piece together.

Word Count: 2715

It's a little over an hour later when the three of you reach the airport and board the military plane which had dropped Sam and Bucky at the warehouse. Joaquin is more than a little surprised that you of all people had just happened to be there and had joined their group. You take a seat and lean back with your eyes closed. At this point your cracked rib isn't hurting any more, which you should probably look into as theres a good chance you could also be enhanced thanks to your time with HYDRA, but theres also a good chance you have a really high pain tolerance thanks to HYDRA.

You take off your shirt, leaving you sitting in your leggings and sports bra as you decide to work on the technology in your shirt. You had used Tony's nano technology to create the shirt, and leggings, so they were smart and it was just a matter of programming them to do exactly what you wanted. Right now you wanted to make it so they would absorb most of the shock from any time you got hit, because dealing with super soldiers who you didn't want to kill was just a bit different from aliens you could use brute force on.

Sam and Bucky's talking pulls you out of your thoughts and you look up at them. They begin to argue about something so you go back to your thoughts, preferring those to the sound of their voices. You had found that you were quite good at getting lost in your thoughts, hiding from the world and it's problems in the relative safety of your own mind. You knew very well it was a trauma response, disassociating and blocking everything around you out. It might not be the healthiest thing but considering everything you had been through and the many ways you could respond to that trauma you'd take this response.

You had been working on all of this stuff with yourself since you had basically refused to see a therapist. You knew you should talk to someone but the settings you had seen that they offered therapy made you want to just shut down worse than you simply keeping to yourself with all of this. Before you know it you have already fixed the problems with your suit, gotten the nano bots set to better protect you in a fight.

Once the suit is finished you look up and come back to reality, and realize that the plane is landing. As you zone back in Sam notices and asks, "you good, y/n?"

You blink before focusing on him, "yeah, I'm good," its a lie but for some reason you don't want Sam to worry about you.

He laughs gently and shakes his head, "thats a lie, but we don't have to talk about it. It's not my business anyways, I was just checking."

This causes you to pause for a moment, normally people would continue pushing you for answers, "alright," it comes out almost as a question but the conversation ends there since the plane touches down at that moment.

Baltimore, you recognize the city as Baltimore. You follow Sam who is following Bucky, who is leading the way somewhere in the streets of Baltimore. Sam pauses for a moment to talk to some kid and you gently wave a hello before you all continue on your way. The three of you walk up to a house where Bucky knocks on the door and a kid answers only to say the person Bucky is looking for doesn't live there.

"Tell him the guy from the bar in Goyang is here." That gets the kid to listen and he closes the door as he goes to tell Isaiah who is wanting to see him. It's a moment later when the door opens again and the kid lets you all in.

You barely make it into the room, and see Isaiah when you begin feeling sick to your stomach. You know him. You had done something to him during your time with HYDRA and whatever that something was it was bad enough that the sight of the man in front of you made you feel sick. From the look on his face he recognizes you as well.

Isaiah gives you a sour look and you point towards the door, tears beginning to form in your eyes, "I'm- I'm gonna go," you look down and your hands are shaking. You look back and forth between Isaiah and the door a few times in the space of five seconds, "I'm sorry-" you say quickly to Isaiah before running out the door.

You make it to a tree in the yard where you catch yourself and take a pause to regain your bearings. You're about to hurl, but you're able to hold it back as you let yourself collapse to the ground, leaning against the tree as the tears flow down your cheeks. You grab your head and begin taking deep breaths. You didn't know what you had done to Isaiah but you knew you regretted all of it, that you had been forced to do it, just like every other horrible thing which you had done.

You get a hold of yourself after a few minutes and then sam and Bucky come rushing out the door, they walk past you Sam loudly asking why Bucky hadn't mentioned the fact that there has been a black super soldier for decades. You stand up and once again you're suddenly shaken back to reality as a police siren goes off nearby. It's as though the sound resets you, something that felt familiar as all of your physical reactions to seeing Isaiah disappeared. You stood up straight and made your way over to Sam and Bucky where a cop was asking if Sam was bothering Bucky.

"No. Do you know who this is?" Bucky asks sounding a bit angry with the cops for deciding to pull this shit. You can see the realization come to the cop's eyes as the other whispers in his ear, the regret and embarrassment clear on his face.

"Mr.Wilson, I'm sorry- I didn't recognize you without the goggles." With that he rushes back to the car where they end up finding out that Bucky has a warrant out for his arrest since he'd ditched a state mandated therapy session.

The police take Bucky away, leaving you and Sam in the street. It's once things calm down that Sam turns to you and asks once again, "are you alright? You ran out of there pretty fast."

You pause for a moment, looking at him before answering, "I'm... as alright as I can be." There is another pause as you try to shove back the vague memories that were now remerging due to the immediate threat of the cops is gone. You swallow deeply then shake your head a little before beginning to walk down the street, figuring you might as well get walking if he's going to bug you about this. "It's easier to not talk about it."

Sam is quiet for a bit, simply walking beside you for a while before saying, "look y/n, that might work for now but eventually it isn't going to work anymore. I know you don't know me and I don't know you but, I'm willing to help you. It's just a matter of if you want it, but for now let's just go get Bucky out of prison."

Something about that causes you to pause, and you look at him as the both of you walk. It's a few moments before you decide to speak, "thanks." You walk in silence from there, considering what he had said, of all the people offering to help he seemed the most genuine, your gut told you that you could trust the man next to you. Your thoughts on this topic cause you to frequently glance over at him even if you didn't notice this fact.

Sam on the other hand does notice your frequent looks, but decides to stay quiet, feeling he had already pushed you enough for the short time you'd known each other. Having a quiet moment though as the both of you make your way to the police station he does find himself stealing his own glances at you, not in a crude way. Sam had practically never been around you up to this point and he'd been distracted all day, this was the first quiet moment there had been between just the two of you all day. He had noticed that your eyes are the color they are, or the curve of your nose and how it complimented the rest of your face so well. It was a known stereotype that you were attractive, you were a Stark you had to be attractive, but Sam hadn't taken the time to actually notice this before this and now that he had noticed he wasn't sure if he could forget it.

The pair of you make it to the police station and take some seats it the lobby area, after talking with the officers at the front desk to ask about conditions for Bucky's release. They don't give either of you any answers, leaving you to wait instead. Eventually a woman walks in and up to the both of you, introducing herself as Bucky's therapist.

As she does this Bucky is walked out the double doors, "thanks for getting him out."

"It wasn't me," the woman responds as none other than John Walker comes in, flaunting himself as he does so.

You can't stop the groan of annoyance that leaves your body as you see him and the woman says she has worked with him before.

Once Bucky is out the therapist walks over to him, "condition of your release session now, you too Sam- y/n you're fine to wait."

This tells Sam that it isn't an option for him to say no so he follows, leaving you with John who had said he wants to talk with all of you as soon as they're done. You grab your phone, and walk out to wait in the parking lot for Sam and Bucky rather than having to stand by John and Lemar while you wait and just for good measure you decide to take a moment and call Pepper to give her an update on what it is you're doing.

"Hello, y/n," Pepper answers the phone, "you alright?"

"Hey Pepper, I'm good, thanks. I'm going to be gone for a while, not sure how long but I found something to do and it seems like it might help me find some sort of purpose. I just didn't want you to worry."

"Thanks for letting me know, and good luck y/n," Pepper responds. Pepper had been trying to help you since Tony had died, Morgan was the only real family you had left even if you didn't remember any of them anyways. But making sure you at least had a chance at a life you'd want was the least she could do for you since your brother had sacrificed himself to give everyone that chance.

You had officially been declared dead when you were only 13 years old, it was because of this that you hadn't been included in your father's will. Then with your sudden coming back with the blip and Tony's unexpected death you hadn't been included in his either. This left you with nothing to your name, and to be frank you were okay with that, you didn't see the need for material items. There were so many other things you needed to do with your life that worrying about an inheritance was no where on your list. It was all too important to you to not let anyone down, you needed to re-learn how to be yourself. Be who you had been before HYDRA and all of that had happened. Thats what everyone wanted from you they kept telling you stories about yourself and how you had been when you were younger, how you had dressed, walked talked and acted. You just couldn't bring yourself to want to let anyone down by not being that person any more.

This was why Pepper took care of you almost like another child, you had nothing to your name and no memories of your life before HYDRA. You were relying solely on other people's word that you were who they say you are.

"Thanks Pepper, I'll be home soon, bye."

"Goodbye y/n," then theres a click as Pepper hangs up.

When Pepper hangs up you don't remove the phone from your ear, instead turning to see if John and Lemar had followed you out of the police station. They hadn't so you put your phone in your pocket, and move to lean up against the building while continuing to wait for Sam and Bucky. It's as you take a deep breath to relax for a moment that the door opens and you hear a voice that is already annoyingly familiar, "hey, y/n," John greets you.

You bite off a sarcastic remark and decide to instead say, "hey Josh."

You can hear him struggle to not correct you and then say, "look, we got off on the wrong foot, let's start over, I'm John Walker, Captain America," and he holds his hand out to shake your hand.

You raise an eyebrow slightly as you look at his hand, "yeah," you pause for a moment, "it's not happening John. You introducing yourself isn't going to change my gut feeling about you and honestly I'm sorry because as far as I can tell you haven't given me a reason to not like you, I just don't and you're going to have to deal with that fact." Once again you were blunt with him, you really didn't see a reason to dislike the guy but you did and until he gave you a reason to like him you were going to stick with your gut to be safe.

Relief. That is what you feel only moments after you finish talking to John as you see Sam and Bucky exit the building. John notices too and decides to get their attention by setting off the siren of the cop car you were standing next too.

Once again the sound causes your mind to feel as though it has reset. A sudden calm sets over you, but it's not a peaceful calm, it's a terrifying calm. A calm before the storm though what the storm was you had not a clue.

By the time you come back, and zone back in to reality, Sam and Bucky are standing next to you and talking with John. John is trying to convince Sam and Bucky once again that all of you should work together. Bucky flat out rejects this. Sam on the other hand offers a reason as to why it is easier for you to not work together, and it is actually logical.

John on the other hand does not appreciate Sam's calm and logical reasoning. "Well, if you won't work with me then stay the hell out of my way."

You give him a double take, like are you serious John? Didn't he just say that he wanted to try and start over so that you liked him? Welp, now your gut feeling at least makes sense and you don't have to feel bad for disliking him for no reason.

You follow Sam and Bucky as they walk away, "we don't have any leads, so I say we bet on someone who has a better hand than we do."

There is a moment of silence before Sam says, "no, we aren't going to see Zemo."

Of course Bucky brings up good points and in the end convinces Sam that going to visit Zemo is a good idea. You of course only have a vague idea of who Zemo is and know he is nothing but trouble so you're just going to trust them on this, and your gut was telling you that you could trust them on this. You instinct hadn't lead you wrong yet so you were going to continue following it until it proved otherwise.

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

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Her Dove, His Falcon, Their Shield Part One

Fandom: Game Of Thrones

Pairing: Eventual Oberyn/Reader/Ellaria

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Disclaimer for Game Of Thrones writing here! This installment contains a reader that is a ruff tuff cheeto puff, a damn juggernaut. STRONK. I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to culturalrebel and hulia for recommending me compilation videos, as well as to @zeldasayer for inspiring me to write a hella buff reader. This is peak indulgence, pauldronsexual hours bois. I wax poetic about Ellaria, it’s a great time. I'll see you all with part two on Monday. Enjoy!

Tag List: @culturalrebel @huliabitch @absurdthirst @helplessly-nonstop

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains depictions of canon-typical violence, allusions to canon-typical abuse, depictions of sexual activities with a pregnant party and vague allusions to breeding kink. Stay safe!]

You were sure your fingers were broken.

The pain flickered sunlight-bright behind your eyes every time you had tried to move your pinky or your index, your entire right hand so gristly you didn't dare to look at it after you had bound it up as best as you could.

You clutched your hand to your chest, forcing yourself to focus. The wharf. You had to reach the docks. That had been your plan this morning, before everything had gone so terribly wrong.

You crept through the shadows, dashing away your tears with your threadbare shawl. Your weeping would only be a sign of weakness, urging the vultures to circle on your corpse before it was even cold.

The creak of timbers heralded your arrival to the waterfront and a soft sigh of relief left your mouth when you spotted who you were looking for. The sailor that had promised you passage was there, leaned against the wall of the nearby harbormaster's quarters. He glanced up at the sound of your voice when you hailed him, tipping his head.

"Well well, look what the cat dragged in." He chuckled, wandering hands already tugging at your shawl. "Have you brought the payment, my dear?"

You pulled forth a small purse of coins. "I know it is less than what we promised, but I was unable to-" The man clicked his tongue, obviously disappointed. "I-I am certain we can come to an agreement, please." You begged desperately. You were so close to your escape!

"Darling, we had a deal." The sailor chided, sounding like he was scolding a child. "You bring me the payment, and I convince my captain that having a woman on board our vessel isn't bad luck. Now, at the eleventh hour, you decide you want to bargain?" The man crowded you back against the wall, his face inches from yours when he muttered, "I don't barter with whores." The blow caught you unawares, the back of his hand connecting with your cheek. You shut your eyes when he raised his hand again, gritting your teeth in anticipation of stifling your noise.

Gods, you were so tired of this.

"What are you doing to that girl?" A man's voice demanded, his distinctive Dornish accent thick with either drink or weariness. "Get away from her or I will cut you down where you stand, you cur."

"She is hurt, lover." That voice was lilting, intrigued, a woman's voice. "Look at her hand, and the way her face is turned. She has been struck."

You abruptly felt the sailor's weight removed from your body, the sudden action making you cringe back against the wall. Large, trembling fingers eased your wounded hand away from where you had it protectively curled into your chest. "What has happened to you, sweetling?" You didn't dare to open your eyes and the man tsked after a moment, relinquishing your hand.

"Lover, we must get you onboard, your wounds-"

"A moment, Ellaria. This…" A hand touched your cheek, making you start and open your eyes. Dark, textured leather armor met your gaze, the surface spattered rusty with blood. Your breathing stuttered. You didn't dare to look up at the man who wore the armor, staring at his chest as hard as you could manage.

The hand slid beneath your chin, tugging your eyes reluctantly upwards as your shawl slid off of your head. You gasped when you caught sight of his face. The man appeared battered, the sides of his head badly bruised at the temples and cheeks. There were livid contusions that looked suspiciously like large handprints, as if someone had attempted to crush his skull with their bare hands. His left eye was bloodied, laced with spiderwebbed veins and swollen half-shut. The fingers that touched your face were still shaking, his other hand pressed to a dressing that wrapped around his left elbow.

"Not a girl, I see. A woman." The Dornishman said quietly after enduring a moment of your impolite gawking. "And as such, I cannot make this choice for you."

You swallowed hard. You had heard stories about the people of Dorne, about Sunspear and the supposed depravity that took place there. True, you had been hoping to get aboard a ship and go somewhere, anywhere, as far away as you could manage. And with that sailor denying you passage...

The man's deep brown eyes saddened at your silence. "Would you stay here and endure this mistreatment from men like him, simply because it is familiar?"

You shook your head, fleetingly meeting his gaze and opening your mouth. "I have never been on a ship before, m-my lord." You attempted a belated curtsey. You had no idea who this man was, but it was best to err on the side of caution that he was of a higher social ranking than you. Most people were.

He seemed amused if anything, a pained smile crossing his haggard features. "You will soon grow to love it, little dove."

"If it pleases you, my lord." You demurred in a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. Were you trading one cruel man for another? They often hid their true intentions until their audience was gone. But the woman at his side...she didn't seem fearful. "I have naught to offer for my passage but this, my lord." The small purse of coins jingled softly as you extended it to the man in front of you. "I am uncertain how much distance it will buy me, but I am not afraid of hard work."

The man waved it off, cupping your hand around the purse. "Do not trouble yourself with such things, my dove. Our time grows short."

…

You had been warned of the sea illness, but you appeared to be able to ward off the heaves if you stayed above decks. The fresh salt air stung your cheeks, yet you refused to move from your spot by the railing. You made yourself scarce beside a pile of coiled rope, staying out of the way of the sailors bustling about and watching everything with wide eyes. Your injured hand was still cradled to your chest, but you had no attention for it as you hungrily devoured your surroundings.

King's Landing had been an area tinged gray, dour with gilded suffering. The golden sunsets that would pour through the high windows of your barren room paled in comparison to the sunset you were witnessing now. It was as if the horizon itself was ablaze, a cacophony of reds and oranges that turned the ocean brilliant. You had never seen such a sunset in all your years, and you prayed that it was a good omen.

The sailors sang as they worked, all of them settling into a rhythm in order to keep everything running smoothly. It was fascinating to watch men pulling lines taut and tacking the mighty vessel into the wind, the ship nimble enough to respond to such rapid adjustments.

"There you are, little dove." Ellaria swayed easily with the motion of the craft, one hand resting on the shrouds to keep her balance. You started in surprise, having not noticed her approach. "You enjoy watching the sailors?"

"They are incredible, my lady." You replied honestly, cocking your head to the side. "I know very little about sailing, but surely their skill is unmatched? You must be immensely proud."

Her laughter was a beautiful noise, just as beautiful as she was. "My lover will be pleased to hear such flattery from your lips! He takes great delight in sailing. Now come with me, flattering dove. We must have the healer tend to your hand."

You shakily climbed upright, gripping the bannister with your good hand as if your life depended on it. The journey back to the elaborate cabin was fraught with peril for you, and you envied Ellaria's gauzy, simplistic garb every time your heavy skirts got caught on the various cleats and belaying pins.

Ellaria opened the cabin door and ushered you into the darker environment, tutting between her teeth. "Lover, you should not be upright." She scolded.

The wounded man (now heavily bandaged), shot her a lazy smile from his place at a desk, quill resting on a half-used sheet of vellum. "I know, Ellaria. She tried her best to tell me so as well."

An older woman (the healer, judging from her no-nonsense expression) rolled her eyes and dusted off her hands, approaching you rapidly. You flinched back and she slowed, her gaze flicking to Ellaria in question.

"We encountered this sweet dove on the docks. It is her hand, Ael." Ellaria said quietly, taking your arm. "Come, sit. Ael will not harm you."

You were settled onto a soft cushion and the healer slid your hand into her own, her touch light and careful while she unwrapped your bruised fingers. "How?" She asked, her voice just as quiet as Ellaria's.

You squeezed your eyes shut against the memory, biting your lip. "It was an accident, I didn't mean...I upset him."

"Him?" The man asked, leaning forward and then grimacing in pain. "That man on the docks?"

"N-No, my master. I am...well, I suppose I was, a-a helpmate of sorts. Shield-maiden. I...helped him to don and doff his armor, and I," you hesitated, "well, did whatever was asked of me."

Ellaria made a noise in her throat. "So what crime did you commit, to earn such punishment that would render you useless for your primary task?"

"I...I broke two of his fingers." You extended your uninjured hand in a gesture to allay concern. "I did not mean to! It was an a-accident, he had a trial to prepare for today with a fearsome opponent. His mind was elsewhere, and when I went to slide his gauntlet on-"

"What was your master's name, little dove?" The man interrupted you, his expression thoughtful.

"His name is Ser Gregor Clegane, my lord. An enormous man who has been dubbed The Mountain."

"You mentioned a fearsome opponent. But with a master such as that, who was this fearsome opponent?"

"A prince of Dorne, my lord, one of your own! Can you even imagine?" You sighed dreamily, vaguely aware that Ael was giving you an odd look. She probably thought you childish, still swooning over faceless royalty. "I was told that he was an immensely fierce and clever man, though not in such forgiving language." Then, forgetting your place, you muttered, "I hope that he roundly trounced Ser Clegane."

The man burst out laughing, but winced and held his jaw as Ael fixed him a stern glare. You were certain your confusion was quite bare on your face. "Apologies, I do not laugh at your misfortune, little dove. Rather, at the providence of it all." He explained, still chuckling. "You are to thank for his terrible temper and sloppy work at the trial, then?"

"Oh, you witnessed the duel? What happened?" You asked excitedly, rocking on your seat in anticipation.

"Oberyn, stop teasing." Ellaria murmured, sounding almost like she was chiding him.

Oberyn.

Your heart leaped into your throat as the man tossed you a pained smirk, moving to the pile of cushions and blankets on the floor. "Y...You? You are-?" Your voice failed you.

"Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, a fierce and clever man among many other virtues?" He drawled, looking like the cat that ate the canary as he gingerly reclined on his soft throne. "None other than, sweet dove."

"They are so deliciously genuine, lover." Ellaria crooned to him while you felt your skin flush hot with embarrassment. "They had nothing but lovely things to say about your crew, and now this? Such courtesy."

"Truly?" Oberyn (Prince Oberyn! your mind shrieked in horror) asked, his tone bordering on surprised. "And all of that, without even knowing who you spoke to? Rare courtesy indeed."

"I...I am so sorry if I've offended you, your highness." You whispered, "I know there is no excuse for my ignorance."

"Nonsense! I owe you a debt, it seems!" Oberyn replied cheerily. You dared to look up, finding him with a hand pressed to the side of his well-bandaged jaw. "Ser Gregor sought to crush my skull after I had run him through. Clearly, it is thanks to you that he could not maintain his grip and I escaped with this colorful bruising."

"So you killed him?" You asked, knowing full-well that the hope in your voice was unbecoming.

"If he is not dead yet, he will be soon." Oberyn seemed outrageously pleased with himself, though his eyes were strangely melancholy. "Justice has been served. I only wish that I could have stayed to witness him breathe his filthy last, but it seemed that the royal family had other plans regarding the outcome of the trial. I thought it better to take my leave before they decided to finish what Ser Gregor began."

You ducked your face into your elbow, trying to quickly hide your tears. Ellaria caught your chin though, her confusion evident. "Why do you weep, little dove?"

"P-Please forgive my loss of composure! I w-weep for myself, my lady." You hiccupped, the words spilling out of you. "I suffered much by the hand of that man. To know that Ser Clegane is in agony or already perished…it feels like a precious gift, yet I should take no joy in the knowledge. To luxuriate in his demise makes me no better than him."

"You are alive and he is not. Luxuriate in that, if you will not give yourself the satisfaction of indulging in vicarious revenge." Oberyn murmured, his tone troubled. "Did he shame you, little dove?"

You raised your eyes to his and he must have seen the truth there, even though you said softly that you had heard of him doing far worse than what had ever been done to you. "I believe I was one of the luckier ones, your highness."

The prince cursed under his breath, rubbing his temples. "I will be overjoyed to be back in Dorne once again. King's Landing is fraught with madness. A wonder that it still fills me with fury! I am half-dead." He muttered.

"Indeed you are, lover. You ought to be resting." Ellaria chastised him, her tone fondly concerned.

"Yes, my love. I am immensely weary. But council me before I slumber. What shall I do with this unforeseen ally?" The prince asked, waving a hand in your direction. "They spake so sweetly to me, and I could have been the lowest man in all of Dorne. Such honesty deserves reward."

"Not to mention that without their aid, your head would have been crushed." Ellaria pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "And I would not be able to do this."

"You graciously offered me passage, your highness. That is more than enough-" You began to protest, wincing when Ael tightly bound your fingers together once again.

Oberyn dismissed your reasoning with naught but a slow flick of his wrist, yawning widely. "Ellaria, the weariness has ensnared me. Do with them what you wish, my love." He mumbled, sinking down into the nest of blankets. Ellaria studied you for a time as you sat silently, letting Ael tend to your hand. You didn't dare to meet her eyes, so frightened that she might view you as defiant.

"I know you must be used to making yourself small, little dove." She finally spoke softly. "Take heart, the people of Dorne are not so cruel as those you have encountered." Ael had finished wrapping your fingers and Ellaria encircled your wrists, the other woman searching your eyes. "Men use such pretty terms to describe the anguish their counterparts inflict upon us. Shamed, as if you were a naughty child." She shook her head unhappily. "I would promise you your heart's desire, for it is because of you that my beloved still breathes. Anything you wish, you need only ask."

You stared at her dumbly, trying in vain to blink back the fresh tears that rose at her practical words.

Ellaria tutted, her hand rising to smooth over your tangled hair in a maternal fashion while the tears spilled down your cheeks. "You are exhausted, little dove." She soothed, a gossamer sleeve catching your tears and patting your face dry. "Sleep now. I will ask you in the morning."

...

You woke to someone gently brushing your hair, the groan of timber and faint sounds of water all around you. Certain that you were dreaming, you hummed and shifted your weight, snuggling a little closer to the lap your head rested in.

"Dove, are you awake?" Ellaria. You nodded sleepily, trying to remember who that name belonged to. "I had hoped to be done before you woke." She sighed. "Try to stay still for me, sweet. I will be finished in a few moments."

As you felt her begin to plait your hair, your mind slowly seemed to shake off the warm haze of sleep. The Mountain. Your hand. Prince Oberyn--

Gods, Prince Oberyn! You flinched, wide awake now. Ellaria patted the top of your head, obviously satisfied with her handiwork. "There! Beautiful." She said decisively. "You slept so soundly, my little dove! You needed the rest, I imagine."

"My lady…" Right back to where you had started, you nearly wept all over again. Your life had been devoid of tenderness for so long, cut off from any warmth or care. Now here was a small smattering, a ray of sunlight through the clouds, and you were utterly in a shambles. "I apologize for my turbulent emotions." You breathed. "I am at a loss."

"Hush, little dove." The woman murmured, a finger tucking beneath your chin to tilt your face up. "You are so pensive! I would see you smile. Breakfast, perhaps?"

You hesitated, your stomach knotting uncertainly. "I do not know if I will be able to, my lady. The ship...I am unused to its motion."

Ellaria smiled at you, a genuine, soft smile that wrapped around your soul like a secret. "We shall eat above decks, my dove. Something light, to baby that green belly of yours."

Gods, was she teasing you? You had no idea what to think as she got to her feet and extended a hand to you. The light played across her golden skin when she helped you rise, even more of her body on display in today's garb. You felt like a drab sparrow beside a brilliant goldfinch, trying vainly to smooth the wrinkles out of your skirts as you followed behind her.

The sky was blue overhead, the sun just slightly above the horizon. It was still early, though normally you would be going to sleep at this hour.

Your shudder had nothing to do with the brisk sea wind.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Ellaria said gladly, tilting her head at you. Her brown eyes fairly danced with good humor, like she was sharing a joke.

Your heart clenched in your chest and you swallowed roughly. When you agreed with her, you were unsure of whether you spoke of the sky or the woman beside you.

After a light breakfast, Ellaria left you to your own devices. You continued to watch the sailors with awe, thankful that they all seemed perfectly content to ignore you.

It did not take long for the prince to grow bored in his confinement, his complaints growing louder and louder until he emerged onto the deck. Half-dressed, Ellaria following after him bearing a light golden wrapper, Oberyn stalked to the railing and stared moodily across the water at the other ship that had departed alongside his at King's Landing.

"Had I not promised Cersei that I would bring that miserable pile of driftwood to her child, I would scuttle the whole affair." He muttered, stroking his facial hair. Ellaria attempted to drape the dressing gown around him, beckoning for you to come assist her. "Even after all the harm she's done, I will not cause undue grief to...ah, my dove!" The sight of you seemed to shake him from his doleful contemplation, and you couldn't help your flush when the prince idly brushed his fingers over your cheek after you had succeeded in helping Ellaria. "Have you decided what you might ask of me, little dove?" Inhaling a bracing gulp of air, you nodded. The prince inclined his head, tucking Ellaria into his side and then raising his eyebrows at you in silent query.

"I ask...I-I ask two things of you, your highness." You winced when your voice squeaked nervously. "First, I humbly request that you hear me until the end. What I will ask...I know that it is laughable." The prince frowned, but nodded. "I was trained for much of my years in the manner of a soldier, as my mother bore my father no sons. That is how Gregor found me." You steeled yourself. "I would like to continue my tutelage and, once I have become a full-fledged warrior, I would ask to join your soldiers and fight under the flag of Martell."

"Why...Why would you ask for that?" Oberyn queried, his tone one of immense confusion. Ellaria looked bewildered as well.

"After everything that has...happened, to me, everything that has been done to me, I am no longer fit to marry." You explained, doing your best to be ginger with your speech. "Yet, I would serve the man who slew Gregor with my very life. All I can ask for is the chance."

The prince lifted his hand, laying it across the back of your neck and tugging you to lean close. He pressed his forehead to your own, his eyes searching yours. "Not a dove at all." He murmured finally. "A falcon. You will have your wish and one better, my falcon. I will not see you amongst the rank and file of soldiers in my brother's army. You shall train as a knight." His hand clapped your shoulder warmly. "A knight of House Martell. It will be difficult! But I know you would not expect ease after the life you have endured." He glanced at Ellaria. "What say you, my love?"

Ellaria's smile was soft and a bit sad. She cupped your face, touching her forehead to your own as well. "Elia would have loved the spirit of this one."

Elia Martell. You had heard the stories, of course, but the depth of the anguish you saw in Oberyn's gaze took your breath away.

The prince nodded sorrowfully after a moment, kissing Ellaria's knuckles. "Aye, she would have. But she can rest easy now, my love, and that is all that matters."

…

"Again!" The battlemaster shouted, his hand extended to direct. "First form!"

You had flourished under the watchful eye of the head warriors of House Martell, training alongside several of Oberyn's own daughters. The strength you had built through your prior training with heavy plate and shield made you unexpectedly hardy, especially when clad in the much lighter leather and chain mail that the Dornish warriors wore.

You were able to wield a pike on foot with relative ease, and Oberyn saw to it personally that you were granted a larger shield. "If you are to be drawing the enemy's attention, I would rather you are shielded…"

You assumed the first stance, your form wavering ever so slightly when Oberyn and Ellaria emerged from a nearby hallway to observe the training.

The prince was well on the mend from his grisly ordeal with Gregor, only bearing a slight tenderness in his left elbow during poor weather. He was a truly lucky man. Ellaria was in good spirits this afternoon, her smile radiant as she waved to you. You bowed, panting a little from the exertion of your training. The battlemaster dismissed you with a grin, overused to such royal interruptions.

Oberyn's younger daughters flung themselves at you in their typical fashion the second they were permitted, all of them piling onto you in an effort to take you to the ground. You struggled valiantly against the assault as Oberyn laughed, the man wading into the mass of bodies after a moment to pluck Loreza from your back. "Such violence from my beautiful children! You are your mother's daughters." He teased with a broad smile, rubbing his nose against Loreza's.

Dorea danced around her mother, tugging at her hands. "May we go to the water gardens, mama?" She asked, pausing to meticulously straighten her petite bracers. Dorea took the training very seriously.

Ellaria nodded, patting her on the head. "Alright my little snakes, rise from the sand and go play." She urged, "You have all done so well in your training today! I am very proud." Elia rolled her eyes, shaking her head when Obella and Dorea shrieked their delight. She was, of course, too old to let such maternal praise cloud her impressions of how her training had actually gone.

You wished you didn't light up as bright as the children whenever the prince and his paramour praised them. You knew that it was foolish.

"We are both impressed with your progress. It has only been five months and yet, you fight as if you were of Dorne yourself." Oberyn observed after his children had departed, his hand resting at the small of Ellaria's back.

You went hot at the praise, bowing and stammering, "a-all due to your faith in me, your highness!"

"How many times must I insist that you simply call me Oberyn?" He asked, the grin he shot you making your knees weak. "After all, unwittingly or not, we conspired together as equals!"

"Do not tease her so, lover!" Ellaria chided him. "We had something to tell her, remember?"

"Apologies, my love." Oberyn cleared his throat, and his face grew incredibly serious. "My falcon, we come bearing wonderful news. My paramour is pregnant once again." He announced, "A new Sand Snake will be born in but six months time."

You gaped at him, then at Ellaria, who was beaming. "Oh, that is...good?" You half-questioned. True, the people of Dorne had radically different viewpoints from the rest of the world when it came to bastards, carnal acts and indeed, their sexuality in general. You were still adjusting to such broad views.

Ellaria nodded, thankfully not visibly offended by your hesitation. "In Dorne, children are a treasured blessing, not the death knell that so many seem to see them as." She rested her hands on the nearly imperceptible swell of her belly. "Oberyn wished to ask you to become my sworn knight, to defend me from such trials that pregnancy brings." Her eyes were dancing again; she was joking with you.

You chuckled nervously, dusting the knees of your breeches off. "I fear I would do more harm than good in that department, my lady." Despite her insistence that she was but a bastard, you always referred to her as 'my lady', just as you always referred to Oberyn by archaic honorifics.

"Are you greatly concerned with the skirmish I am sending you to, my falcon?" Oberyn asked bluntly.

You shook your head. "Not at all, your highness. I have faith in my skill, as well as the competence of Prince Doran's military."

"I will be there as well, though only advising in my elder brother's stead." Oberyn sighed wistfully. "You must be twice as fierce on the battlefield, my falcon! Fill my place in the ranks."

"I must be at least six times as fierce if I were to try and match you, your highness!" You protested.

"The genuine nature of your flattery never ceases to raise my spirits, my falcon! Dorne will need your strength." The prince grinned sharply, "And your ferocity. I assume we can expect great things from you?" He extended his forearm and you clasped it, feeling the coil of muscle that lurked beneath the sleeve of his brocade robe.

"You may depend on me, Prince Oberyn." You replied firmly.

...

It was to be a simple pincer attack, your small battalion held in reserve to strike at the most opportune moment. Everything always seemed so straightforward when in the map room.

Now, in the muddy chaos of the battlefield, you planted your massive tower shield as a rallying point for the foot soldiers and warded off the attacks that poured around it like river water. Cavalry thundered past you into the fray, lances up and proud Martell trappings flapping in the breeze. You struck down Dorne's foes without mercy, attempting to do the absent Oberyn justice.

Until you caught sight of Elia, torn from her horse by a greatsword-wielding warrior. She hit the mud hard, barely rolling out of the way of the man's full swing. He landed a glancing blow on her shoulder and you heard her cry out.

You jerked your shield up out of the ground, terrified beyond measure that she would not hear your voice. You gathered your legs beneath you to brace for her weight and shouted, "Lady Elia!" Her eyes met yours for a split-second. "Ninth form!" With your shoulder and knee set into the back of your shield, you tilted the metal.

The smaller woman bolted up and onto your slanted shield, then wheeled and sprang off with her arm outstretched to grapple the warrior's neck. The man was floored by the blow, he and Elia tumbling to the ground. You thrust your spear through the offending wrist that still gripped his sword, your razor-sharp weapon piercing the weak point in his armor and pinning his hand to the ground as he screamed.

"If any man dares to touch a Sand Snake, he shall lose his hand and his life." You seethed, raising and then crushing the edge of your shield down on his throat. Elia stared up at you, hurriedly accepting your hand when you offered it. "Are you badly injured, my lady?" You asked worriedly.

"Just winded." She jibed but winced afterwards, touching the blood blotting her armor at the shoulder. "Damn it, and perhaps my shoulder could use tending."

"Shall I escort you back to the stratagem, my lady?"

"So courteous! A true knight." She teased, laughing. "Of course, deliver me to the hands of my hen of a father, that he might chatter and squawk about how careless I was." She tossed her head haughtily. "Wonderful."

"I meant no disrespect, my lady." Elia had a rebellious streak that may have very well been the entirety of her body. Fiercely capable and cunning beyond measure, this would be a blow to her pride. But you could not very well permit her to venture on wounded and get herself killed in the bargain, so you herded her gently back towards the stratagem tents.

You were both soaked head to toe with the blood and sweat of battle, so Oberyn's gut-wrenching expression of terror upon catching sight of his daughter was to be expected. "Elia!" He cried, striding out of the tent. "Where is the wound? You would not retreat willingly, you are too stubborn."

"Hush, I am well. Your falcon saw to that." Elia retorted, gesturing at your massive shield. "She clove a man's head off with that simply for touching me."

"He did a sight more than touch you, my lady." You replied stiffly, "I merely retaliated."

Oberyn enfolded his daughter in his arms, squeezing her tightly as you stripped your helmet off. "Straight to Ael with you. You have done well." He praised her, "but this shoulder will need to be tended lest you lose feeling in your hand."

After Elia had departed, you dropped to one knee. "Forgive me, your highness. I was not fast enough to keep her from harm."

"Lightning itself is not fast enough to keep that one from being wherever she wants." Oberyn replied dryly, clapping your shoulder and urging you to stand. "You brought her to me, a task which I'm certain she did not make simple. You are…" he trailed off, staring at you. Since you had removed your helmet, you assumed you must have some mud on your face. Why else would he look at you as though he had never seen you before? Perhaps the sun was in his eyes, or maybe your hair was much more hopeless than usual.

You quickly scrubbed at your cheeks, but Oberyn remained silent. "Prince Oberyn?" You queried tentatively.

"You are capable." He managed to finish his thought after several more moments. His voice was strangely faint. "Thank you for returning her hale and whole to me."

"Are you well, your highness?"

"Quite well. Astonishingly so, given the circumstances."

...

You were knighted formally as Ser Shieldove of House Martell on the following new moon. Oberyn winked at you in playful insinuation when you and several other new knights knelt before his brother to be anointed with seven oils, nearly causing you to embarrass yourself by laughing. The younger prince had become markedly more flirtatious towards you after the skirmish, his teasing bold even for his standards. You had dismissed it though, certain that he was merely expressing his gratitude with some flattering attention directed your way.

At the feast that followed, Oberyn and Ellaria flanked you instead of taking up their usual position at the head of the table with Prince Doran. Ellaria in particular was nearly hanging off your arm as the both of them fed you from their own trenchers. His tender touch while he plied you with fruits and the brush of the pads of her fingers against your lips made your throat burn with an odd emotion that you dared not examine. The flavorful dolmas hit your tongue and turned to ash in the wake of Ellaria's beautiful smile and Oberyn's jests.

The prince was regaling anyone who would listen with the thrilling (and greatly exaggerated) tale of you and Elia in the skirmish. "-my daughter, Elia Sand, though wounded, fought valiantly against a warrior seven times her size. Ser Shieldove, thinking quickly as she always does-"

"That is a falsehood, your highness." You protested, making Oberyn and his audience laugh. "I was in a panic. I was so fearful I would not reach her in time."

"What is a skirmish if not an opportunity to embellish?" The prince teased. "As I was saying, Ser Shieldove utilized one of the many tactics she learned in her knightly training…" While Oberyn prattled on, you felt his hand rest idly on your leg. You barely kept from leaping out of your skin when he gripped down a little tighter, his fingers rubbing circles through the gossamer of your gown and the fabric of your hosiery.

"More wine?" Ellaria asked sweetly, refilling your goblet before you even had the chance to nod.

"Thank you, my lady." You cocked your head to the side. "Are you well? I hope the babe does not grieve you."

Her lovely laughter, combined with the hypnotic press and drag of Oberyn's fingers, made you wish that you could stay where you were forever. "I have done this four times before, my falcon. Or should I say, Ser Shieldove?" She chuckled. "I am prepared for whatever discomfort this little one sees fit to inflict upon me."

You smiled at her, stating sincerely, "I am in awe of you, Lady Ellaria."

"Of me? Whatever for?" She asked in surprise.

"Your willingness to bear children. It is...I do not know if I would ever have the strength for such an endeavor." You admitted softly, leaning in a little. "Your joy is pure and rare, unlike anything I have ever witnessed. You are practically aglow. It makes my heart ache and sing all at once, to see you so happy."

Ellaria took your hands in her own, clasping them to her heart. "Ser Shieldove, your flattery has not lost its edge." She murmured, her eyes bright. "Though I know your duties may take you elsewhere, when you have a moment of respite, I...would be more than willing to have one of my midwives explain certain things to you. I understand that fear of the unknown keeps many in the darkness."

Your heart buckled in your chest, hope and terror at war with one another. "I know not whether I...that is, I am uncertain if I am able, Lady Ellaria." You replied in a hushed tone.

Ellaria nodded, her expression saddened. "I know, sweet dove." After a moment, she rose to her feet. "Oberyn, lover, will you accompany Ser Shieldove and myself to the water gardens?"

The prince immediately rose and you floundered to do the same, caught off-guard by the sudden request. "Of course, my love." Oberyn's tone was light, but you couldn't shake the notion that he had been waiting for her to say something.

His hand stayed on the small of her back the entire stroll to the gardens, and you found yourself envious of those fingers, envious of her skin. To know such gentle touch, to be able to touch so gently…

During the day the pools were alive with the sound of children of all ages, laughing and splashing about in the refreshing waters. But here and now, the only sounds were the wind stirring the water's surface and the low, inquisitive calls of the bullfrogs. Ellaria settled onto a bench, patting the stone beside her after a moment. You sank down in an unwieldy mass of delicate fabrics, longing for your armor. The dress was beautiful, but it drew so much attention.

"Speak to us, sweet dove." Ellaria implored, taking your hands in her own again. "We would know what troubles you in regards to these delicate matters, without fear of judgement or embarrassment."

Oberyn cleared his throat, large hands framing Ellaria's shoulders. "The merrymaking of the evening cannot erase the furrow of contemplation from your brow, my falcon."

You hesitated, staring down at Ellaria's hands wrapped around your own. Her fingers were slender, delicate. "I see the two of you, how tender you are with one another and I wonder if...I wonder whether I might ever find such companionship." You shrugged helplessly. "I am unskilled in these matters. Gregor was...the only one. I do not know if I could ever subject myself to...if I could ever…" You trailed off, biting your lip.

Oberyn muttered an oath under his breath and then quickly apologized, continuing on to say, "Brave, fierce falcon. You were dealt a terrible wound the day that monster stole you away. I had wondered why you did not accept the propositions offered to you by many of the other knights, but I merely assumed it was a difference of our cultures."

You shook your head shyly. "No, your highness. I find their attentions flattering, yet frightening for this very reason." You were dealt a terrible wound. Oberyn regarding it as such, instead of simply as a normal occurrence for a woman to overcome, was strangely heartening. "Perhaps the wound lingers, festers beneath my skin. Perhaps I shall never be gentle again, and never know myself what such gentleness feels like." You thought aloud, voicing your worst fears. "Perhaps my life will be nothing but roughness and the whirling tumult of battle, my only chance thieved away from me."

"Oh, my sweet dove." Ellaria sounded distraught and you turned your attention to her, surprised when you saw her weeping. Her hands cupped your jaw, tugging you close enough to rest your forehead against her own. "You have such an immense capacity for love, daughter-defender. My heart breaks at the thought of you locking yourself away out of fear."

"My lady…" Tears welled up in your own eyes and you tried to wipe them away hastily.

Oberyn shifted to the side, his arms wrapped loosely around both you and his paramour. "Do you watch us often, my dove?" He asked quietly. "Does it bring you peace to see how we exist together and with others, as easily as rising in the morning?"

Your throat ached with your tears. "The way that you touch her, your highness-"

"My body was designed solely for the pleasure of my lovers, sweet dove." Oberyn informed you, his deep brown eyes unbearably soft in the dim light of the lanterns. "It is a weapon on the battlefield, but never in the bedroom. Even if I come at my lovers with passion, there is not and should not be fear."

"I am a knight of House Martell, and yet I cringe at something so mundane!" You tried to jest, tried to smile.

"Many a warrior is thrown from a horse once and refuses to ever ride again." Oberyn pointed out, his hand absently stroking over your hair in a calming motion. "If an action has only ever caused you agony, you learn to avoid it." Ellaria tugged at Oberyn's sleeve, whispering in his ear when he bent lower. The prince smiled after a moment, nodding. "Of course. Whatever you like, my love." He agreed.

"Sweet dove, at some point in the future I would like to invite you to witness us in our bed chamber," said Ellaria, the words from her mouth damning and sweet as honey. "We are comfortable with an audience and multiple partners, as you are well aware. We would be more than happy to display the way certain acts ought to be performed." She laughed after a moment. "Truly, if I get much larger I may have no recourse but to ask for assistance when my cravings grow too raw!"

You swallowed, then inhaled raggedly. How long were you planning on languishing in this manner? Ignoring your desires out of fear and anxiety over what had transpired? Though Oberyn had assuaged your feelings of inadequacy, you no longer wanted to be the warrior thrown from your horse. You were a knight of House Martell, in soul and now in title. "I would be honored to witness such a thing, my lady." You croaked out, wincing and clearing your throat awkwardly.

Oberyn's smile was a fond one, the man placing a kiss on his paramour's forehead. "Never fear, falcon. We shall not push you further than you can go."

…

Some weeks later, the battlemaster woke you out of a sound sleep, his tone one of long suffering. "Prince Oberyn seeks your council, Ser Shieldove. He bade you wear your armor, but bring no weapons."

Your mind whirled. Had something happened? Gods, Ellaria-

You weren't certain if you had ever donned your armor faster. It was scarcely ten minutes before you were striding through the airy halls, your tunic rustling beneath your light armor and mail. No weapons, he had said. What manner of exercise could this possibly be?

The prince flung open the doors of his chambers when you approached, his expression tight yet grateful. "I apologize for rousing you at such a late hour, my falcon."

You dropped to a knee in typical salute. "What has transpired, Prince Oberyn?"

"Ellaria believed that tonight would be a good night for you to...witness. That being said, she wished for your assistance." The man said delicately. "My love is--ah, how to say this without being crass. She is swollen with child, and yet she craves a certain position." Oberyn raised his eyes to your own. "She reasoned that your strength would be sufficient to keep her balance while she indulges."

Your mouth went dry. "M-My strength?" You stammered. He nodded, studying you intently. His heavy gaze alone had you smoldering, had you nodding without thinking twice. He gestured you onwards into their private chambers, closing the doors after you.

Ellaria, her form barely concealed by the thin curtains of their bed, called your name so sweetly. Like a sinner to judgement you crept close, eyes averted from her nudity. "My dove, there is no shame here." She crooned, one finger beneath your chin urging your attentions to her body. Her kiss to your forehead was gentle, her heavy breasts pressed against your armor with her closeness.

"Lady Ellaria." you breathed, wanting more than anything to greedily embrace her in your arms, shield her from the world. No one deserved to even look at her, no one--

Except Oberyn, of course. The prince was leaning easily against one of the banisters, one ankle tucked over the other while he observed his paramour with a blissful expression. Only Oberyn. Your heart ached, full enough to burst with your unspoken affection for the prince and his beloved.

"The prince said you requested my presence, my lady?"

"I want you to see us, my dove." Ellaria said simply. "I may require your assistance, but until then…" She beckoned Oberyn closer and did not finish her sentence.

The prince cupped her face and kissed her passionately, his smile curved against her lips. Once he was done, however, he turned to you. The bristle of his mustache met your forehead, grazing the skin teasingly before he kissed it. "A kiss from a prince. Let us hope you do not turn into a frog!" He said with a grin.

Ellaria's fingers kneaded at his light dressing gown, spurring him to peel and discard the garment. "Come, Ser Shieldove. Sit on the side of the bed and watch us." She implored.

"Are you certain, my lady?" You asked, hesitation plain in your voice even as your fingers twined greedily into their rich bedspread. "It is not...distracting that I am here?"

"Far from it." Oberyn grunted, chucking you under the chin. "It is a rare treat, to have my devastating falcon in the same bed as my lovely paramour. I will not involve you beyond function, of course, not without your consent. You are the audience tonight, and Ellaria wishes to show you the tender acts I inflict upon her."

You did not trust your voice to reply. You knew logically that there was no possibility of Oberyn causing her harm. You watched his hands, the shift of the candlelight shadows playing across the olive skin. Oberyn was languid in nearly every aspect of his life aside from training and battle, so it was no great shock that he was slow in his approach as well.

He trailed a single finger down between Ellaria's bare breasts, over the swell of her stomach. Your hands fisted tight enough to ache in the bedspread when Ellaria crooned to him, the sunset-hued fabric wrinkling in your grasp. You were entranced, enthralled as surely as if you had been under some spell.

"Lover, please…" Ellaria begged, and oh! Her voice was the sweetest music, a wine heady and luxuriant. How did Oberyn resist her? How did he temper his longing, when all you wanted to do upon hearing her ask once was fall to pieces?

"She knows I will satisfy her." Oberyn said softly, as though he had read your thoughts. He lowered his mouth to her breast and her fingers found his hair, cradling him close. His hand wandered lower and lower, seeking out the wetness that had built between her thighs.

Your gorget threatened to choke you when you swallowed convulsively at Ellaria's trembling sob of pleasure, the prince shooting you a smirk from his prime seating.

"I think our falcon has taken a shine to your mewling, my love." He informed Ellaria quietly. His hand spread her wide, fingers lewdly displaying her plush entrance slick and pink, delicious--you caught yourself leaning in and quickly jerked upright.

Ellaria noticed your interest, if her moan was any indicator. One hand left Oberyn's hair and reached out over the blankets to you, fingers extended as far as they could go. She fell just shy inches from your arm, blindly fumbling.

Oberyn carefully scooped her hand back up, kissing her knuckles. "We do not touch her, my love." He reminded her. "Until you need her help to take me, and even then. Our falcon, our dove, she is a warrior, not a plaything." He glanced over at you, his expression mischievous. "It is enough that she wishes to touch you already, my love." His fingers plunged into her cunt and gods, she was wet enough to hear.

Your thighs clenched and you felt shameful, like an intruder, but Oberyn hummed as if to draw your averted gaze to where his fingers plundered her slick folds.

"She is much more sensitive when she is bearing." He sounded a little breathless, his dark eyes nearly black in the dimmed lighting. "I can wring two or three from her with ease, just my fingers. No pain."

"Two or three?" You echoed him in doubt, your voice rasping in your throat when Ellaria's back arched off the bed. She cried out and Oberyn moaned with her, his own enthusiasm evident in the way he claimed her mouth with his. She was beautiful, skin flushed and damp with sweat, and he was so gentle with her.

"I need you now, lover. I cannot wait, please, please-" Ellaria implored against his lips, and the tender way he soothed her hair back from her forehead made your chest ache. "I have missed you beneath me, my sweet Oberyn."

"And I have missed you, my divine Ellaria." Oberyn helped her kneel, then gestured you closer. "If you wrap your arms around her midsection--"

"Is that safe?" You interrupted warily, concern destroying your propriety. Oberyn just chuckled, rolling off of the bed to divest himself of his pants. You fought the urge to bury your face in Ellaria's neck out of embarrassment.

"Sweet dove," Ellaria's hand cupped your burning cheek. "If this is not to your liking…"

"Of course it--I mean, if-if I...what if I do something wrong? What if I hurt you?" You mumbled. "Men act as though we are unreasonably delicate for expecting an ounce of caution, yet we endure so much at their whim."

Ellaria interlaced her fingers with your own, bringing your palms to her defined hips. "I will not break, my gentle dove." She stated, a defiant toss of her head serving to drive her words home. She was the devoted paramour of Prince Oberyn, after all! Already mother to four of his children, soon to be five.

Oberyn knelt on the bed and you couldn't help the way your eyes devoured him. His hair tousled, mouth still red from hungry kisses, lean body on full display. The member that hung between his legs had your breath hitching with a mixture of vague apprehension and arousal, how-

You tore your eyes away, tucking your nose in the thick waves of Ellaria's hair as your thighs flexed yet again. She smelled of comfort, of citrus and the spiced strongwine from their evening meal. Ellaria sighed, relaxing her weight back into your arms. "You are so warm, sweet dove."

Oberyn's hand stroked your cheek and you were unable to conceal your flinch. "Do not fear me, gentle dove. I would never harm in the bedroom; here, I am no longer the Red Viper." His tone was grave, and you saw sorrow in his eyes when you dared to look up. "I am simply a man hopelessly in love." His hands covered your own, tightening your grip on Ellaria's hips. "Now, help my paramour to rend me as she sees fit."

You did as you were asked, feeling the anticipatory tremor that ran through Ellaria's body. She wanted him. She yearned for him, canting her hips as far as she could to draw him close. But Oberyn was thorough, coaxing her thighs apart inch by inch and laving her hot skin with thousands upon thousands of adoring kisses. She was on the verge of collapse before he even deigned to lay down beneath her, and now you understood your place in their endeavor.

She sank down onto his cock without hesitation, a breathless whine of delight leaving her lips while her head lolled back against your shoulder. Oberyn's cry in response was low, wanting, the prince's chest heaving as he thrust up into her. "Ellaria, you beautiful fucking woman." He seethed through his teeth, "Help her take me, my falcon, hold her steady while she tears me apart."

"Oberyn!" Ellaria sobbed, clinging to your arms while he urged her hips forward and back to ride his cock.

"If she wishes for another child, she entices me by laying on her stomach and beckoning me near." Oberyn informed you lazily between arching his hips up to meet his paramour. "When she does I am but her willing stud horse, lost to breed. Her hips fit perfectly in my hands and she begs me so sweetly for another babe, another little one to bring to her breast and nourish. My Ellaria, my beautiful, precious Ellaria."

Oberyn reached up, his eyes so warm and fond as he cradled Ellaria's face in his large palms. You buried your face in Ellaria's hair again, not wanting either of them to notice the tears threatening to spill over.

Ellaria nuzzled against his fingers, coaxing a ragged groan out of Oberyn. "Lover, you always know what to do to make my body sing for you." She breathed, planting her hands on his chest and circling her hips. Oberyn swore and gritted his teeth, his head falling back against the pillows. "But I would much rather you sing for me instead."

The prince's voice broke wordlessly in his throat, the noise sharp with longing. Your eyes widened and your whole body tensed at the sound, warmth coating the worn trews between your legs. What…? You had never experienced such a rapid reaction, and all it had been was a simple groan! Your grip on Ellaria tightened unconsciously and she moaned your name, her body pushing back against your armored chest as she rose up onto her knees.

Oberyn fairly growled at her, one hand clutching at her thigh while the other delved between her legs. She cried out and you could feel her body spasm when he found her center, hips undulating hard to grind herself against his palm. "Come for me, my love, drench me." Oberyn encouraged softly. "Tear my seed from my body, milk me with that divine cunt of yours."

His heated words made you feel like your heart would beat out of your chest. Ellaria tilted her face into your neck, her panting, breathy cries whispering over your skin and making you wish more than anything that you were the one causing them-

She went taut in your hold and you watched Oberyn watch her come with the same blissful expression on his face that he had sported earlier. It was as if his own release was an afterthought, the prince humming to echo Ellaria's incoherent whimpering while he shifted his hips restlessly beneath her. "Keep gripping me, my love, keep-" Oberyn bucked up hard, hands covering your own on her hips to keep her still when he buried himself in her again. His shoulders tensed, thighs trembling as he came with a shuddering gasp of her name.

Gods, you wished it was your name he spoke with such passion!

Ellaria nearly collapsed, your arms around her the only thing keeping her upright. "I have you." You breathed, cradling her back against your chest. "I have you."

The other woman blinked up at you sleepily, one shaking hand raising to stroke over your hair. "Thank you, Ser Shieldove." She whispered. Oberyn clapped her thigh, carefully tilting her hips and closing her legs once he slipped out from beneath her.

"Steady, I need to fetch a cloth." He instructed you, nearly staggering when he rose from the bed. "Gods, Ellaria, you will make me swoon one of these days." Oberyn continued, half-laughing and shaking his head. He wrapped his light robe back around his body, looping the belt once and then abandoning it.

You hid your face at the sight of him stretching languidly, his lithe and golden form barely covered by the haphazardly-tied dressing gown. "You can look at him, you know." Ellaria sighed in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "He loves being observed. He preens." She confided, chuckling softly.

"What are you telling her, my love?" Oberyn called from the washbasin, shooting her a suspicious glance.

"Nothing, lover." Ellaria winked up at you, relaxing into your arms a bit more. "Nothing at all."

"Now, my falcon. Is it your turn?" Oberyn asked conversationally while he tenderly bathed Ellaria's intimate area. The other woman hadn't stopped squirming, trembling beneath his careful ministrations even as she clung to you.

Panic seized your body at the idea of being naked, being vulnerable, exposed, and despite the hard work the both of them had done, you found yourself shaking your head violently.

Oberyn simply laughed, dismissing his own words as a jest and easily soothing your terror.

...

When you returned to your quarters later that evening, you could not remove your armor fast enough. Clad in only your underthings, you slumped into the chair beside your bed and put your head in your hands.

I can wring two or three from her with ease, just my fingers. No pain.

Ellaria's wanton cries rang softly in your ears. The way she had sought him out with her body, sought to be cherished, claimed-

You are so warm, sweet dove.

You flushed hot, rubbing frantically at your eyes. Gods, the way the two of them praised each other, praised you...it hurt, it made your body throb. You bit back a sound of pain, your eyes watering. To be loved by someone, to have their love in return...well, that is what all the songs and stories of man were about!

Yet here you sat on the outskirts of a camp you dared not approach, gazing at the raging bonfire of someone else's affection.

And you envied, with a ferocity that made your jaw ache from how tight you clenched it.

Envied Oberyn, for being a prince, being free to do as he wished, being able to trace secret patterns over Ellaria's skin as often as he pleased. Envied Ellaria, for being brave, being so effortlessly sensual, being able to bring Oberyn to heights of ecstasy that you could not even dream of.

You felt like a child that had been happily playing pretend, only to have a bucket of cold water thrown on you.

Your fingers dug into your thighs, rubbing over the scarring there. No, you would never know, would you? You would never know the true depth of another's love. You were not destined for such things, and you had been foolish to grasp for them in the first place.

You had been greedy, overeager to voyeur on the prince and his paramour due to your deep admiration of and attraction to the couple. This was hardly behavior befitting a knight of House Martell! You would have to do better in the future, instead of taking advantage of the generosity extended to you in good faith. All Ellaria and Oberyn had wanted to do was help you, and you had turned it into some lewd fantasy.

You shook your head at your own thoughts, thoroughly disgusted. You would tear down everything good that you ever had, just to delude yourself into believing you could be bedded by a prince of Dorne and his beautiful lady.

Part Two

#game of thrones #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn x ellaria #oberyn x ellaria x reader #knight!reader #strong!reader #canon-typical violence #oberyn martell x reader x ellaria sand #oberyn imagine #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal characters #I apologize if this is OOC #I hope you can ignore it and still enjoy!#I got very indulgent

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harryskalechips · 4 years

Text

Joy

A/N here’s a fluffy and angsty piece I wrote from a request! It’s a bit long but I hope you enjoy 🥺❤️

Request:

https://harryskalechips.tumblr.com/post/620429539601956864/hi-i-was-that-anaon-that-asked-if-you-understand

Claire has had the biggest crush on Harry Styles since eighth grade, now he notices her but it’s for the wrong reason.

Word count 10.1k

“Fuck baby!” Harry pants as he catches Claire running towards him. She was coming from the bleachers, holding onto the big sign with his name on it.

“Congratulations!” She smiles as her arms wrap around his neck. He lifts her up and spins her in a circle. His sweat sticking onto her skin as he took an inhale of her sweet perfume. “You played so great tonight!”

“I was so stressed I thought we were going to lose the game but I glanced at you in the bleachers.” Harry smiles as he sets her down. “You’re so fucking cute, you know that right?” He takes her chin in his hand so he can lean forward to kiss her.

“I’m your number 1 fan.” She bites her lip as she smiles. “And you know...you looked really good.” Her cheeks flush as she compliments him. She’s been in love with him since 8th grade! How did she get so lucky to be his girlfriend? To be standing in the bleachers cheering him on as she wore his sweater?

---

“Hello?” The familiar voice whispers. “Earth to Claire?” Claire blinks her eyes as she falls out of her daydream.

It’s high school and just like every cliché movie, Claire had a major crush on one of the most popular guys in her grade. Harry Styles. The boy sat next to her in AP Bio and although he barely spoke to her, her heart somehow always fluttered when she would get a whiff of his cologne or when she would make eye contact with him on the field. Funny thing is Harry was on the football team with her brother, Tom. So when she would stay after school for her ride home, she couldn’t help but focus a bit more on the cute boy.

“Are you okay?” Hannah asks as she takes a spoonful of her fried rice. “I was literally mentioning how we should come back tonight and watch the senior boys’ football game-” She chewed on her food a bit more as she notices her best friend staring at the table behind them. Following Claire’s gaze, it was the group of boys from their grade. Since lunches were split between grades and Claire and Hannah always chose to sit near the middle, they always had a clear view of the athletic boys who were having their meals at the circle in front of the big windows.

Harry was sitting on the table with his elbows on his thighs as he laughed at Niall Horan’s joke. The rest of the boys were Jack Norton, Samuel Donevy, Mark Randers, and Kai Dowery. Not all of them were on the senior football team but they played other sports and probably had the highest record of dating the girls at their school… except for Harry. He was quiet and he never showed any interest in a girl. Maybe he’s gay? Claire thinks from time to time.

I mean she’s been observing him since 8th grade. She would look at what snacks he would eat during break time, what sweater he would wear for the week. For God’s sake! Claire started eating oranges while walking back and forth in front of him. She was hoping he would ask for a slice. She thought she looked cute as she peeled her orange walking back and forth. From the corner of her eye, she noticed him staring at her. Maybe, he wondered what she was thinking? Or maybe, he thought her red oversized flannel looked cute on her? … Wrong!

Harry watched her during his break time while he ate the small cookies from the bag in his hands. What the fuck is Claire doing? Can she stop? Holy shit, I would aim perfectly if I hit her in the head with my shoe! Can she choke now, please?

I guess that’s how it’s always been since Claire met Harry. When he first transferred to her school, she fell in love with him but Harry paid no mind to her. Instead, she was just some random girl who he’s known for three years.

“You’re staring again.” Hannah throws a pea at Claire. In retaliation, Claire throws it back as it lands near her elbow.

“They’re just in my line of sight.” She scoffs as she takes a sip of her water. “And yes, we can go watch them tonight but we can’t head to the after-party. I need to study for my chem test tomorrow.”

“What? Claire, how else are we going to have fun? I told Brooke, we were going.” Claire wasn’t just friends with Hannah. They had a bigger friend group of 5 but she and Hannah were obviously the closest. The other girls were at their club meetings.

“Go with Brooke then? I’ll just uber home.” Claire packs up her container. She stands up to throw their garbage in the trash bin before coming back. “You know, I don’t want to let you down like this.”

“Sis, you would only stay home tonight if it wasn’t Harry Styles on the football team.” Hannah teases as they get ready to leave. “At least you’re coming to the game.”

“Tom!” Claire runs to her older brother. Hannah and Brook were already sitting in the bleachers as the game was starting in 30 minutes.

“What?” He snaps back. He was sitting on the bench, taking a sip of his water watching the other boys warm up.

“I’m just letting you know, I’m going to uber home tonight. I’m not going to the after-party.” She had to tell her brother where she was going after the game. Ever since their mom and dad divorced, Tom was in charge of his little sister. He had to drive her to places and make sure he knew where she was. It’s been their routine. Hannah would drive from home and to the party. He would meet her at the party so they can drive home together but it seemed like tonight was not the case.

“You don’t need to.” He takes his sister’s sweater and rubs his sweat on it.

“Tom!” She calls out his name in disgust.

“The party is at our house tonight.”

“What about Ben’s?”

“Renovation.”

“But what about mo-”

“She’s working the night shift in the ER today.” He stands up and takes his foot to his back to stretch. “Now, go. Make sure you order 6 boxes of pizza after the game. The guys and I will bring the beer.”

“What’s wrong?” Brooke questions as she watches Claire climb the stairs to their seats. It was starting to crowd, so she had to yell a bit louder.

“The party is at our house tonight?” Claire replies with a confused face. “Tom is so stupid! How could he plan this without telling me?”

“Claire, you know what that means right?” Hannah shakes her head as she takes a sip of her soda. “Harry Styles is going to be at your house tonight! Perfect timing to seduce him!” She wiggles her brows. Claire cringed. Seduce him? That’s exactly what she didn’t want to do. She can already picture him pushing her off.

“No, thanks.” She pouts. If only she didn’t have a test tomorrow, she could be downstairs ogling Harry across the room. Instead, she’ll be ogling a stupid video with the catchy crash course intro. “You guys have fun but you better tell me if some girl starts talking to him.” Brook laughs as she checks her phone.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s going to be standing in the corner drinking a cup while watching other people get pissed drunk.”

The Falcons won. In other words, Harry’s football team won. It ended with Claire coming out of Hannah’s car with a bunch of people waiting for her to open the door. Now, she sat at her desk rubbing her temples in frustration. She could hear people laughing as the music beat vibrated against her floor, making the glass of water on her desk shake in the corner of her eye. I’m about to-

“Sorry, I thought this was the washroom.” She turns around to see Harry standing in her doorway. He had his baseball cap on backwards. He was wearing a band tee she couldn’t recognize.

“Oh, i-tt’s the next door on your left.” Claire stutters as she stands up immediately. “Hi.” Harry gives her a strange look before looking around her room.

“Hi.” He pauses before talking again. “Nice room.” He was about to go but Claire needed to speak up. This was the only time she had his attention.

“Did you study for the chemistry test tomorrow?” Oh my fucking god… You’re so dumb Claire.

“I don’t have chemistry.” He raises his eyebrow at her before holding onto her doorknob. “Sorry to bother.” And with that, he closed her door shut leaving her dumbfounded. Claire stood there as her heart kept beating fast. That had to be the third time Harry spoke to her.

The first time was in freshman year when he asked her for an eraser during math class. The second time was in Biology class three months ago, when he told her to shut up after she kept asking Mr. Lisak questions about the nucleotides in genes. She hated herself, she really did.

After a while, Claire came to a realization that she couldn’t study tonight so she stood up once again to head downstairs to see what fun she was missing.

“Hannah!” Claire pushed herself through the crowd to greet her and Brooke. They were sitting in a circle with some other kids from their grade. Brooke moved over so Claire can sit with them.

“I thought you were studying?” she whispered to her friend as she took a sip of her mixed drink.

“I couldn’t concentrate.” Claire bit her lip. She was watching the board game in front of them but as she looked up, she noticed her brother laughing with his friends. What stood out to her was that Harry was with them. “I have to go.” Y/N stands up as she watches her brother call her over.

“Where are you going?” Hannah asks as she leans into Gabby.

“My brother needs me.” She sits up carefully as she continues to walk towards Tom. “What do you need?”

“What are you doing down here? I thought you were studying?” He asks as he crosses his arms. His friends were laughing to themselves as they watched the siblings talked. “What are you guys laughing about?” He eyes them. Carlos shakes his head as he looks at me.

“Isn’t Claire in eleventh grade? So, is Styles-”

“Shut up.” My brother interrupts him. “Don’t drink too much, you have to help me clean.” he talks to Claire again.

“What? I wasn’t the one who initiated this whole thing!”

“Yeah, well you came downstairs so you’re automatically co-hosting with me.”

“Reports on last night’s cleanup?” Sandra asks Claire as they walk to Bio. Sandra and Kaitlyn were the other two girls in their friend group but they both hated going to parties so instead, they chose to have movie nights when the other girls were out.

“It was horrible.” Claire rolls her eyes as they enter the classroom. Other students were getting settled in as well. Claire didn’t need to admit it. Today was an absolute shit day. First off, her chemistry test was a total fail. Her mom seemed to be too suspicious about last night’s events, and now, Mr. Lisak was assigning their bio assignments.

“Glad to know I won’t ever have to deal with that.” Sandra brushes her hair away from her face. “You don’t even like parties, I can’t believe you still go.”She sets her textbook on the table. “I know it’s because your boyfriend Ha-”

“Shut up. Don’t say his name!” Claire pulls Sandra’s hair softly. Harry was just so happening walking behind them to his seat.

“Claire.” He calls her out. Harry was calling her.

“Yeah.”

“I need to talk to you after class.” He doesn’t look at her as he unloads his backpack.

Harry and Claire walked alongside each other as they exited the school’s building. She had to text Hannah to find a group of friends to sit with since she didn’t know how long this conversation would take. Harry stopped them in front of a tree near the football field. What did he need to tell her?

“Your brother thinks you have a crush on me.” He keeps a straight face as he looks at her. Claire chokes on her breath. She takes a step back and looks at the field.

“Whaaaat? I do not!” She scoffs back with a particular tone. She never told Tom, how would he know!

“So, you don’t like me?”

“No, of course, I do! You’re such a nice guy- and you play really well on-” She rambles on as she watches Harry just look at her.

“It’s a yes or no question.” He shakes his head.

By the time, Claire got her thoughts together, she notices him already walking away from her, she had to yell. “No! I don’t like you!” He pauses in his tracks and turns around.

“Okay good because I need a favour.” Claire widens her eyes. Harry Styles after three years of having the fattest crush on him, he’s happy to know she doesn’t like him? She lied!

“What do you need?”

“I need you to go on a date with Finn Hartley.” Harry walks back towards her as he holds onto the straps of his backpack.

“Finn Hartley? You don’t even talk to him!”

“How would you know?” Harry questions her making her mouth run dry. She’s been obsessed with you, that’s why.

“I just- I don’t think you hang around him that much.”

“Well, I do. I need you to go on one date with him.”

“Why?”

“He likes you.” Claire widens her eyes once again. How did Finn like her? She’s always been busy with her attention on Harry. She didn’t know a boy liked her.

“How long has he liked me?” She mumbles as her cheeks begin to flush.

“Since the beginning of the year. I lost a bet with him so I had to set him on a date with you.”

“What was the bet on?” She bites her lip. Claire didn’t even realize she was standing so close to him. He still smelled the same. She was wondering if he was warm enough to hug her. Maybe, if she kissed him now, all these feelings would go away.

“Some stupid shit.”

“Why does my brother think I like you?”

“Stop asking questions, Jameson.” He calls her out by her last name.

“Just one date?” She pushed back, ignoring his last statement. Harry just sighs and turns her around before pushing her to walk back towards the school building. She couldn’t help but notice how his hands were still on her shoulders as they continued to walk.

“Yes, one date. If you don’t like him, that’s okay. I don’t care.”

Claire sat in the bleachers by herself as she took a book from her bag. She was staying after school today since Tom had another practice. She couldn’t help but notice Harry doing push-ups with some other boys.

It’s a bit weird how easily Harry’s presence can bring her joy. Despite him not noticing her, just seeing him already made her day.

He was already sweating due to the sunlight that was directly pointing in their direction. He stood up walking to the bench to take off his shirt but for some reason, this was his first time noticing her. I mean, he knew that Claire Jameson sat in the bleachers every time they had practice but this was the first time that he caught himself looking at her.

She sat quietly in the bleachers as she read her book. She seemed to have been smiling from something she was reading but little did he know, it was because she was watching him.

“Did you tell Harry I like him?” Claire sits in the passenger seat next to her brother. He put his shades on and started the car. Claire was watching Harry get into his own car across the parking lot.

“Styles? You like Styles?” Tom laughs as he rubs his itchy nose.

“So, you didn’t tell him?”

“Claire, I’m not going to lie I think you’re kind of out of his league.”

“Really?” She blushed. Her brother thought she deserved better? But Harry was her first love!

“No, you ugly sack of potatoes.” He turns out of the lot as he blasts the music. “I’m so going to tell mom you have a crush!”

“Tom!” ~ Bz. Bzz.

Claire drops her pen and leans over to grab her phone on the bed. It was from Harry.

Harry: I’m coming over tonight. H.

Claire blinks repeatedly as she stares at the message. Luckily, she already updated her friends about Harry but this was just out of nowhere!

Claire: Why?

Harry: I need to give you some tips on how to make Finn have the best date H.

Claire: Shouldn’t he be working hard on how to make me have the best date.

Harry: I’m just coming over to give you some tips on what to talk about. H.

Claire couldn’t help but let her cheeks turn red. She never knew he texted with his initial at the end.

Claire: okay.

“Hey.”, Claire smiled as she opened the door for Harry. It was around 7 PM and he seemed to have change into a red flannel and black jeans.

“Hey.” He glances at her and walks in.

“Sweetie, I see your friend is here.” Claire’s mom steps into the foyer. “I’m Morgan. It’s nice to meet you…”

“Harry.”

“Styles?” Tom comes downstairs with a bag of chips in his hand. He then looks at his sister and laughs. “Holy shit, you actually could go-” Claire throws her slipper at him.

“Mom, we’ll be in my room.”

“Oooooo.” Her brother teases as she pushes him out of the way. She grabs Harry’s wrist so she can take him upstairs.

She slams the door close as Harry sits on her bed. What is she doing? Why is he here? Why did she lie about not liking him? Now, she has to go on a date with his friend, when she’s been wanting to go on one with him!

“Are you okay?” He licks his lips and leans back on her bed. His legs were wide open as he watched her and she had to look away before she invites herself in between them.

“I’m fine.” She glances at his face then looks away. She sits at her desk and looks at him. “I haven’t been on a date before.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”

“How would you know that?” Claire was a bit offended. He knew she’s never been on a date. That no guy has ever been interested in her… no wonder he paid no attention towards her.

“I don’t know.” He looks at her ceiling. She still had those glow in the dark stars.

“Before we talk about my date though, you need to come clean.” She mumbles as she plays with the tiny cracks on her phone. She pushed it away after feeling some glass on her skin.

“About what?” He sniffles and sits up a bit more. He couldn’t stop himself from picking up a frame of her. It was her sixth birthday, and she was blowing her cake with her dad and brother beside her.

“Tom doesn’t think I like you.”

“Oh.” He puts the picture down and shakes his head before looking at her. He leans his chin on his hands before kissing his teeth and replying. “Yeah, It was me. Thought you liked me?” Claire’s heart stopped beating. Was it obvious? How she would always ramble when she would see him? How she watched him on the field and in the cafeteria. Holy shit, how she would eat things based on what he would eat?

“Well, I-”

“Yeah, I know you don’t Claire. I realized you’re just a weirdo.” Claire crinkles her face.

“Thanks.”

“No, but for real, I had to make sure you didn’t like me or anything. That’s fucked up if I tried to set you up with Finn.” Well, you’re in for a surprise.

“Really fucked up.” She laughs at herself.

“Okay, let’s get started.” He yawns a bit. “I told Finn that I got your input about going on a date with him and he’s happy about it-” Harry continues on but for some reason, Claire found herself just looking at him. How he would rub his chin and use his hands to explain things. “Claire. Claire!”

“Yeah!” She falls out of her trance. Trying to pull it off smoothly, she spins her chair around and looks at him. “I’ve been listening!”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Yes, I have!”

“What did I just say?” He smirks at her, leaving Claire to smack her forehead on the desk. “Hey, stop you’re going to get a bruise. Why are you hitting yourself so hard?”

“I’m stupid!”

“Or more like falling asleep.” He pulls her off the chair to join him on the bed. “Y’know if you don’t want tips. It’s fine, I was thinking about talking you through it but I should just leave.”

“No, don’t!” Claire urgently replies back. God, does she sound desperate or what? Seduce him! Hannah’s voice enters her mind. She possibly can’t. Should she?

Claire decides to give a go. Maybe, if he rejects her, this is how she’ll find out if he’s gay or not. She lets her hair down before biting her lip. She leans a bit back on one of her elbows as she reaches over for her remote to turn on the TV. Specifically, Netflix.

“What the fuck are you doing Claire.” Harry sits next to her with his eyebrows furrowed. He pushes her arm, making her completely fall onto the bed. He leans over to take the tv remote but just as he was hovering over her, the door busted open.

“Claire, what did I say. No closed doors when boys- Oh My God!” Morgan yells as she looks at Harry partly hovering over her daughter as the screen of movies and tv shows are on display.

“Mom!”

Harry quickly pulls away and stands up before clearing his throat. Claire sits up as well, tying her hair back up.

“I’m leaving. No closed doors!” Morgan quickly walks away. Harry turns around to look at her before throwing himself back on the bed.

“Are you okay?” He rubs his eyes and looks at her. He honestly thinks this girl is weird. How does Finn like her?

Hm, how should Claire respond to that? I’m fine. I was just trying to seduce you that’s all.

“Yeah, my ponytail was giving me a headache and I was wondering if we should watch a movie while you explain the stuff.” Harry didn’t reply when she was done speaking. Instead, he reached over to pull her hair tie off her, softly as possible.

“There.” He throws it back at her before taking the remote. “Wanna watch a random episode of friends?”

“Um, sure.” She takes the hair tie back as she sits a safe distance away from him so they can watch the show.

Throughout the episode, Harry ended up sitting against the wall with Claire as he spoke about what to expect from Finn or more importantly from a first date. This time she listened well and tried not to focus too much on him. Of course, it still made her heart beat fast when he would laugh at her stupid questions but if Harry thought she was a weirdo… then a weirdo she is.

Click. Claire hears as she opens her eyes. It was Tom holding his phone as he took a picture of her and Harry. Claire wanted to yell at him so badly but she was kind of happy he took the pic. Plus as she turned a bit, she noticed she was laying on Harry’s shoulder. God, how did they end up this way? Last she knew, She was closing her eyes subtly as he continued to explain what was a good conversation starter. Did he think she was a loser? That she can’t even impress his friend? Well, not too wrong, she can barely handle a conversation with him.

Tom laughs as he walks forward to tug on Harry’s ankle. “Yo Styles, wake up.” Claire immediately pulls away as she stretches her arms.

“Fuck did I fall asleep? Sorry, Claire.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you like my sister or not?” Tom glances at his sister before looking at Harry.

“What? No dude.” Harry gets off the bed as he rubs his eyes. “I fell asleep by accident.” He looks at Claire as he rubs his chin.

“Mom is asking if you want some dinner before you leave.”

“Oh no, It’s fine I got to head home anyway.” Harry glances at the clock. It was about 9 PM. He never stayed this late at a girl’s house before. Quite frankly, he never really went to their house, they came to his.

As Harry was driving home, he couldn’t help but sniff his flannel a lot, especially on his left side where Claire was sleeping. As he parked his car and came inside, he noticed how lonely it felt. How the picture of his dad sat on the fireplace. He missed him.

“You fell asleep on Harry?” Kaitlyn clarifies as the five of them sat on the field. Their Classes were about to start in 15 minutes and this was usually the time when all of them could hang out.

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit, when did Harry start noticing you?” Hannah laughs as she plucks some grass and into her fingers.

“I don’t know… ever since my brother hosted the party at our place?”

“It had to be before. Finn likes you! When did that bet take place anyway?” Brooke questions as she lays her head on Sandra’s lap.

“That’s true, you should ask.” Sandra braids Brooke’s hair as she listens to the conversation.

“I barely ever spoke to Finn in my life.” Claire leans up to look at the sky. “Now, Harry only notices me because of him.”

“That’s cute. Imagine if Harry ends up liking you or you end up having a crush on Finn.”

“I don’t know. I’d pick Harry over anyone.”

“Ooooo.” Kaitlyn teases as she playfully pushes Claire into Hannah’s side.

“Jameson!” The girls look up to see Harry a bit further from them. He stood in a black T-shirt and his signature skinny black jeans.

“I got to go. Duty calls.”

“Yeah, your boyfriend is calling.” Brooke burst out in laughter as Claire pulls some grass herself before dropping it in Brooke’s face.

“Yeah.” She catches up to him as they begin to walk inside the building.

“He’s asking you out today during lunch. Where do you eat?”

“In the cafeteria…” Claire pouts a bit as she looks at Harry. He really never did notice her. She sat in front of him every day and he had no idea!

“Oh okay. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What? I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Cut the crap, Claire. I don’t know what’s your problem today but that’s all I needed to tell you.” And with that, Harry walks away, leaving her pretty sad.

She didn’t feel right. How obsessed she’s been about him, only to have him talk to her a couple of times due to a lost bet. It sucked.

Last night before they fell asleep, they were talking about the what-ifs on her first date. She remembered him smiling and laughing at her awkwardness. Now, it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with her.

Hannah sat in front of Claire in their usual seats. She was drinking some chocolate milk while doing her homework. Claire seemed to barely touch her food. “Are you okay? What did Harry tell you?” Hannah couldn’t help but asks. She noticed how her best friend barely looked at the table behind them ever since lunch started.

As Hannah brought the topic up, Claire couldn’t help but look at the table, only to catch Harry already looking at her. Well, hi to you too. “I’m fine. It’s just- Harry was kind of mean today. I thought after getting to know him, he would be a bit nicer.”

“But do you really know anything about him?”

“I know…” Claire seemed to be lost on this one and it upset her more. She claims to be in love with him but she doesn’t even know what he likes? What his favourite colour is? “I know he has a sister named Gemma. She’s in University.”

“How do you only know that?”

“He said it in 8th grade, during a presentation.” Claire shakes her head and looks down. She is so pathetic.

“Hey Claire,” She looks up again to see Finn Hartley standing at their table. “Hey, Hannah.”

“Hi.” Claire forces a smile at him as she feels Harry’s eyes on her.

“I was wondering if I could get your number and take you out on a date?” Finn smiles at her as she glances at Harry once more. He seemed to be far more interested in Natalie and her friends who sat at their table a couple of minutes ago.

“Here you go. I can’t wait where we’re going to go.” Claire genuinely replies as she fills in his phone.

“Thanks.” Finn smiles as he puts his phone in his pocket. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You better come over and help me prepare for this date.” Claire lets out a sigh as she begins to eat.

“Wait so, he’s taking you out to Mcdonalds?” Hannah asks confusedly as she sits on Claire’s bed. “For a guy who seems to like you, his date location choice seems pretty… uh”

“I know right?” Claire pauses as she tries on a new shirt. “ I don’t know it’s fine. It’s my first date though. I’m really excited.”

“I’m really happy for you, babe. After Harry stopped talking to you, I can only imagine how open-minded you are to this.”

“Thanks for coming, it means a lot.”

“Anything for you.”

“So, what would you like to order?” The girl asks the pair as they look at the menu and at her.

“I’ll have combo 1 please,” Finn states as he looks at Claire.

“I’ll have combo three, the chicken nuggets.” She smiles. The night was a bit awkward, she expected Finn to talk a bit more. That’s what Harry told her. Instead, he was quiet as a mouse, barely acknowledging her.

As they took their seats in the booth, Claire couldn’t help but take a french fry in her mouth. She was quiet too and Finn was just trying to eat his burger.

“Are we okay?” Claire couldn’t help but asks. Harry told her that Finn was excited about tonight but instead, he was acting as if he hated being here. The boy looks up and nods his head.

“Yeah, I ‘m fine. Just a bit shy.”

“It’s okay. Me too. It’s kind of my first date.”

“Really? This is probably my third but I don’t go out much.” Claire dips her nugget in her sauce as she laughs a bit.

“Same. Let’s get to know each other.” She takes a bit of the meat in her hands. “ How did you and Harry become friends?” She wasn’t going to lie. Finn was cute but she didn’t know much about him.

“Oh, Haz and I? We’re next-door neighbours. I knew him since he moved in.”

“Why haven’t I seen you during middle school then?”

“Homeschooled.” Finn laughs as he takes a sip of his soda. “You’re probably wondering what our bet was. I would have asked you on a date without his help but I was really nervous.” Claire smiled at him and shakes her head.

“It doesn’t bother me at all. I’m glad I’m here tonight.” Was that a lie? She wasn’t mad to be here but she did wish she was with Harry instead.

“Harry and I were playing soccer in my backyard. I ended up getting more shots than him. I mean, the guy is better in American football than his English soccer, isn’t that crazy?”

“I’m sure he was a bit rusty.” She laughs about their bet. “What was his reward if he won?”

“Nothing actually. Sometimes, I think he purposely lost so I could finally go out with you.”

“That’s nice of him,” Claire admitted. So, she didn’t know much about Harry but that little story from Finn made her think the world of Harry. She wished that he still talked to her.

You guessed it. Claire was stuck on the bleachers again waiting for her brother. Tomorrow, they had a home game so tonight’s practice was a bit more longer. She played with her hair as she watched the boys run from one side of the cone to another. She was trying her best to not look at the curly-headed boy.

After her great date with Finn, she came to the conclusion that maybe it was time to get over Harry Styles.

After all, he really made sure to let her know he doesn’t like her.

Once practice was over, she noticed Tom talking to his friends before climbing the bleachers to meet up with his sister. “Claire, tonight we have a change of plans.”

“What?” She whined. It was already 5 PM and all she wanted to do was head home and sleep.

“Jeffrey and the others are heading to the diner for some food, you can either come or you can walk home.” Claire put her backpack on as she stood in front of him.

“I’ll uber home.” She really didn’t want to walk for 30 minutes if she was being honest.

“I’ll drive her,” A voice speaks out. Tom and Claire look at the bottom to see Harry holding onto his sweat bag. Tom smirked at his sister before walking down again. Claire followed along without another word.

“No funny business Styles, you drop my sister home and then you leave.” Usually, Tom wouldn’t let a guy from his team talk to his sister but weirdly enough, he let Harry drive his sister home. After all, she had a big crush on him. Tom walked away leaving Harry and Claire on the field while the other boys were in the change room. She glanced at Harry to see him rubbing the back of his neck before nodding his head to the exit.

“Let’s go.”

Step by step, Claire followed him to his car. It was a regular black sleek Sedan. She sat in the passenger seat while she watched Harry throw his bag in the trunk before sitting down in front of the wheel.

She sat awkwardly in the seat as Harry just observed her. “What?” She mumbles as she stared straight ahead of her. Harry just laughs at her as he shakes his head. After a couple of seconds, the boy leans over to grab the seat belt on her side. He clicks it on and puts his on too. “You could have just told me.” She bites her lip as she adjusts the strap on her chest.

“Yeah but for some reason Jameson, you act like you have no brain cells when you’re around me.”

“No, I don’t.” She protested as Harry smirks at her. He starts the car and begins to drive. “Thanks for the ride though. It’s nice of you.”

“I wanted to hear about your date last night.” He glanced at her. She’s pretty. Holy shit, stop that Harry.

“Of course you do.” She rolls her eyes as she takes an inhale. His car smelled exactly like him. “It went great though. In the beginning, it was a bit rough but after a while, it was really fun.”

“That’s good to hear.” He didn’t know why he asked her. After their date, Finn knocked on his door, telling him everything about it. It made him a bit… upset. The only question in Harry’s mind was why? Why did it bother him? He barely spoke to this girl since a couple weeks ago and for some damn reason, he’s been thinking about her since.

He remembered how talkative she was during Bio class. She was way too interested in genes than anybody else in the room. How she bit her pencil when she couldn’t understand the topic. He already knew she was going to raise her hand up by the way she kept glancing at her notes and then at the slides.

How she was reading something while she sat in the bleachers or on some nights, she would just watch them train…. He was suddenly getting a bunch of thoughts of her thrown into his head.

“Harry?” She pokes his arm as he stares at his wheel. They finally arrived at her place after not really talking during the drive home. Now, she needed the boy to unlock the door. He shakes his head and looks at her house. Harry shrugs his shoulders, waiting for her to get out but the only problem was she didn’t know what button unlocked her door. “Can you unlock the door?” He presses the button on his side before looking at her. “Thanks… would you like to come in?” Claire screamed in her head. Why would she ask him that!”

“Your brother said no funny business. I’m scared you might try and seduce me again.”

“I wasn’t trying to!” Claire lies as she grabs her backpack and steps out. “Okay, fine go home. I was going to make you dinner!” Harry smiles at her. He was only teasing her but to see her so flustered made him a bit happier.

“I’m coming.” He pulls his keys out and unbuckles his belt.

They sat together in Claire’s kitchen, eating some pasta. Tom wasn’t home yet nor was her mom so they had the house to themselves. Harry already had two bowls why Claire just ate slowly while watching him eat.

“You know, we never really talked and we’ve known each other since eighth grade,” She speaks out as she pours him a glass of orange juice. She sat in her hoodie and her tights after they came home.

“I don’t talk to a lot of people, especially girls.” He mumbled thanks after, she put the juice box down.

“That’s not true. I saw you talking to Natalie and her friends!” He raises his brow at her and takes another forkful of the pasta in his bowl.

“Do you stalk me, Jameson?” “No.” She widens her eyes and pours more juice in his glass. It was still full… “I don’t know anything about you.”

“I have a sister named Gemma.”

“I know.” He drops his utensil in his bowl. He slowly drags the cup towards him since he didn’t want to spill the juice. The girl beside him filled it to the brim.

“Drink it.” He looks at her then his glass of juice.

“I already have a cup. No thanks.”

“Drink it.” He smirks and pushes it towards her. She filled it to the top so she has to fix it.

Claire leans forward as she takes small sips from his glass. She couldn’t help but think of how lips touched it before hers. After she finished it halfway through, she pulled away and wiped her mouth. She was about to look at Harry for his reaction but instead, he pulls her closer to kiss her. He kissed her!

His hand was on her arm as he pulled her towards him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him but instead, she stayed frozen. His lips were so soft just like she imagined. He couldn’t help but suck on her top lip as it tasted like orange juice.

He pulls away as he looks at her and bites his lip. “I have to go.” He sits up immediately and gets ready to leave her house. Claire chases after him and just as he was about to walk through the open door, she couldn’t help but call him out.

“Are you gay!?” She watches him with tears in her eyes. He regretted kissing her. A boy like him didn’t like her. The boy she was in love with wanted nothing to do with her.

“What? No!” He replies with a particular tone in his voice. He was obviously offended. “Bye Jameson, thanks for the food.” he mumbles.

Claire closes the door and locks it before walking to her staircase and sitting down. Her sleeves were her only substitute as tissues while she continued to cry. Harry Styles was her first kiss and he walked away from her right after.

Let’s go Falcons! Let’s go!

The cheerleaders chanted in the corner of the field as the boys continued to vs the Panthers. Claire was sitting in the bleachers as usual with Brooke and Hannah. She tried not to come tonight but the moment, Hannah showed up at her house, she couldn’t say no. Now, they sat together cheering on their school. From the corner of her eye, she could see Finn sitting with his friends. They were known for running the robotics club, which was really cool.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Claire announced as she stood up from her friends. Their school was winning by 92-77. She was barely watching the game anyways. After last night, she’s been avoiding her brother. She didn’t want Tom to know about Harry and their kiss.

“Hey.” Finn elbows her and smiles. They stood at the front of their vending machine with some other guests standing behind them.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry for not calling you back after that date.” Maybe, he wasn’t interested in her too. “I just- my mom is sick and she went back to the hospital.”

“I’m sorry to hear about that. It’s fine Finn.” She couldn’t help but hug him. She hated it when she heard stories about her friends’ parents. When something bad happened to them, she couldn’t help but feel as if they’re her parents too, especially since her dad left them.

“Styles!” Norton yells at him as he misses the ball. The coach calls time, making their team head back to the benches.

“What were you looking at!?” Tom snaps at him as they huddle up. Harry shakes his head as he takes his helmet off.

“Sorry, I don’t know.” But he did know. He was looking at Jack running with the ball but his eyes caught Claire and Finn hugging near the vending machines. He obviously had no idea why it made him lose focus.

“Get back on the field and if you get your head out of the game one more time, you’re out!” Coach Turner smacks his board on the pole. The other team was finally catching up.

“What took you so long?” Brooke questions as Claire sits beside her again. Hannah was taking selfies with their poster.

“Saw Finn.” She replies back as she smiled at the boy who looked at her one more time before talking to his friends.

“You missed Harry getting yelled at by your brother. I think Coach Turner did too.”

“Why did he get yelled at?” Her brows furrowed as she caught eyes with Harry. He was about to snap the football behind to her brother. It was crazy how they could still see each other even though she was on the bleachers. She wasn’t far though only 6 rows up.

“He missed a play.”

“Party tonight at Ben’s!” Hannah cheers as she leans on Claire’s shoulder but for some reason, Claire couldn’t stop thinking of Harry.

“Another win for the boys!!! HUH HUH!!” Norton yells as the boys enter Ben’s house. Harry followed behind them with a smile on his face as he took a beer from a random guy who offered it to him. After the game, Jack and Tom seemed cool with him again. After all, he scored two touchdowns after his mistake. Now, tonight was their celebratory party… like always.

“You played really well, Harry.” Natalie walks to him as he stands at the table where the snacks were laid out.

“Thanks, Nat.” He purses his lips as he looks at the variety of chips in front of him. He was having a hard choice between them.

“I was wondering if you wanted to I don’t know… Go somewhere a bit quieter?” Harry pretended to act clueless but he knew exactly what she was talking about. He never really liked a girl but he did play around with Natalie from time to time. He just hated the way she talked. Harry was about to say yes until he saw Claire across the room, dancing by herself… surrounded by other people who seemed to ignore her. Where were her friends? Did she know that she can’t dance?

“No thanks.” He walks away to grab Claire from the crowd. He brought her outside on the patio where most people were just chilling. Where was Tom?

“Claire.” He tries to stabilize her as she holds onto his shoulders. “Why are you drunk?” If anything, Harry knew Claire wasn’t the type to lose her self control at parties. He noticed she was just as sober as he was… at least most of the time.

“Why di coach Turnerrr yell at you?” She pouts and leans into him.

“I made a mistake.” His hands placed themselves on her waist. He could feel her skin through the thin cropped cardigan and skinny jeans she was wearing.

“You know! I like Finn.” Harry couldn’t help but look down at their shoes.

“You do?”

“Yeah! Especially when he told me how youuu lost the gamee so he can go on a date with me!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” He lies as he takes a whiff of her sweet perfume. She smelled like lavender.

“You’re British! How could you not be good at soccer?” She looks at him as she slurs. She takes her pointer finger and taps his nose.

“True.”

“You know who I like more than Finn though?” “Who?”

“You! I’ve liked you since eighth grade!”

“What?” His eyes widened. Harry stared at her eyes to see if she was lying but instead, she smiled sweetly as her cheeks were pink as the colour of her room.

“Mhm. Been in love with you since! I always tried to get your attention but you never noticed me!”

“Claire.” He looks at her. He doesn’t know how he feels about the new fact He doesn’t even know what to say. Yeah, he’s always wanted a girlfriend but he never really found a girl for him… well except now. Harry was liking the idea of Claire being his girlfriend. He thought that she liked him but after the first time, she said no, he got his answer and he never thought about it again.

“Holy shit Claire!” Brooke comes out of the house to see them too. She was wondering where her friend was. “Hi, Harry.” Harry took his hands off of her immediately as he pushed the girl into her friend’s arms.

“Hey. I brought her out here, it was pretty hot inside and she’s pretty drunk.” Brooke trusted him as she took Claire. She knew he wasn’t trying to take advantage of her. Truthfully, she heard their whole conversation and the moment she saw Harry’s reaction to Clarie’s confession, she had to come in.

“Thanks.” Harry just nods before walking back inside.

“I knew what I said. Stop bringing it up.” Claire groans as she and her friends sat on the football field just like usual. It was now a Monday and ever since Friday night’s party, her anxiety has been killing her.

“You know, you can always pretend you don’t remember.”

“What?” She takes a sip from her thermos as she listens to Kaitlyn’s suggestion.

“That’s true. You were drunk! Just pretend you don’t remember.” Sandra agrees with her.

“You should. Remember how he just left after kissing you.” Brooke joins into the conversation.

“Tom should never hear about that.” Claire rubs her eyes.

“He won’t as long as you never tell him.” Hannah shakes her head and laughs. “He probably yelled at your ass when you guys were driving home.”

“I still hate how he drinks then drives.” Brooke pouts as she bites her lip. She may have a crush on Claire’s brother.

“He barely drinks though but yeah, I definitely got yelled at.”

“Shit was that the bell?” Sandra sits up and helps the other girls stand up too. “We gotta go. I’ll see you in Bio Claire.”

“Pssst, Psssst Claire!” Harry whispers at her as people enter their classroom.

“What?” She looks at him and takes her pencil case.

“Meet me at the tree during lunch.” Claire wanted to say no. That Hannah needed a buddy to sit with but it was Monday and the other girls had no meetings today so they were going to be a full table anyway.

“What? No.” That was the first time she said no.

“Yes, you will.”

“Class, Let’s get started.”

Harry leaned against the tree as he watched the girl in the dress walk towards him. The sun was shining on her as she carefully walked on the field trying not to get mud on her white sneakers.

“What do you need, Harry? Does Finn want to go on another date?” Claire arrives as she holds onto the straps of her backpack. She was cute, really really cute. Harry had to shake out of his thoughts as he spoke to her.

“You know, you were drunk on Friday.” “I know. I got yelled at by Tom.” She picks up a stick and peels its skin. Harry takes the thing in her hands and throws it away. “Hey!”

“Do you like me?” He cuts her off as he steps closer to her. “You better not lie this time or so help me God, Claire.”

“I told you I don’t.” “Who do you like then?” Harry tested her.

“Finn.” She replies confidently as he clenches his fist.

“That’s not what you said last Friday.”

“I didn’t say anything last Friday! Especially, not to you!” She lied. She knew Harry didn’t like her. She needed to save herself the embarrassment.

“You told me you-”

“I don’t even know anything about you! You barely let me in!”

“Why do you care so much about knowing me!” He yells back at her. She turns around as she feels tears in her eyes. “Are you fucking crying?” She turns around again and sighs.

“I tell you anything you want to know about me but the moment I ask you something, you cut everything short!” “No one cares about me-”

“I do, Harry! I care about you!” She rubs her face and hugs herself. Why did she have to care so much about this boy?

“If you think this is some romantic movie...” He looks at the field then back at her. “That I’m going to comfort you and tell you shit about myself than you’re wrong Claire.” He takes his backpack and leaves her there, by the tree.

“You okay?” Tom unlocks the front door and lets his sister inside the house first. “If you’re still mad about me yelling at you on Friday, you deserve it. You know you need to be careful during these parties.” “I get it, Tom.” Claire walks straight upstairs and shuts her bedroom door.

The pillows surrounding her head comforted her as she continued to cry. It’s pretty sad how she thought he was different. She always admired him from afar but now that she knows him she wants nothing to do with him. She was surprised when her brother opened the door.

“Tom,-” He ignores her and shuts the door. He stands away from her as he watches her cry.

“Did I make you cry or did somebody else?”

“Do you miss dad?” Claire ignores his question and sits up.

“No, I hate him.” He throws the tissue box on the vanity towards her.

“I miss him.” She glances at the picture from her birthday as she wipes her tears with the tissues. “Some times I wonder why I like Harry so much.”

“What did he do? Is he the one who’s making you cry.” Claire shakes her head not to disagree with him but to point the conversation somewhere else.

“Maybe ever since Dad left, I needed to find another person to help me cope with the divorce. Maybe, that’s why I always thought of him.” “I don’t know Claire.” Tom itches his head as he watches his sister. “You do know I’m here for you right. Even when I move off to college, I’m still here.”

“I wonder how I’m going to get home now.” “Learn how to drive you dumbass.” Claire sticks her middle finger at him as she opens her arms.

“Now, come hug me.”

Finn sighs as he kicks the soccer ball past the soccer net. Harry and he were hanging out by the soccer field near their houses. “Fuck man, I don’t know what to say.” He looks back at the curly-headed boy sitting on the grass. “You’re saying if I didn’t win the bet, you wouldn’t have realized you like her? Claire?”

“I’m sorry. I just felt like I needed to tell you about this. You can be mad at me. I just- I don’t know.” Harry rests his face in his hands. Finn sits down in front of him and pushes his arms.

“You sure you like Claire Jameson?” He raises his brows at him. “I thought you said she was stupid and weird.”

“She is Finn! That’s the problem!” Harry falls on the grass as he looks at the sky. “She’s not even stupid. She’s actually really smart. She’s just awkward and clumsy - and she’s so fucking cute like that I don’t-”

“Okay, I get it you like the girl.” Finn laughs sadly as he looks at his friend. “You know, I really think she’s a nice girl but when we were on our date, she couldn’t help but talk about you a lot. She kept trying to ask me questions about you.” “I don’t even know if she likes me. She said she did. I asked her today and then she said no! Girls are crazy man!” “I know but in fairness, this is the first girl you spoke about to me.”

“She drives me crazy.”

“Can you imagine how crazy you’ve been driving her since eighth grade then?” Finn laughs as he stands up again. “Come on, let’s play one more round together and make a bet.”

~ “Hey.” Finn catches up to Claire as they walk in the hallways together. Lunch had just started and she needed to meet Hannah at their table.

“Hey Finn, how are you? How’s your mom?”

“We’re good Claire, thanks for asking.” He holds onto his binder a bit tighter. “I was wondering if I can take you out on a date again?”

“Oh okay.” Claire looks at him. “When?”

“Tonight?”

“Um, on a school night?” “Yeah. I know it’s just my only free day.”

“Okay. Are you going to pick me up?” “Yeah, wear something nice alright?” Claire raises her eyebrows in surprise. Wow, his standards obviously upgraded.

“He’s taking you out again?” Hannah rolls her eyes as she eats her burger. “To Mcdonalds?”

“No. Somewhere nicer.” Claire glances up to see Harry already looking at her. Niall seemed to be talking to him but his attention was somewhere else, or someone else.

“Stop looking at him!” Hannah throws a piece of her sliced cabbage at Claire.”Chant with me. We don’t like Harry Styles, we don’t like-”

“I have to go.” Claire stands up and throws her lunch out. “Go to Sam’s table.” She walks out of the cafeteria. She needed to clear her mind before class and Harry in her peripheral vision wasn’t helping anybody.

She needed to scream at him. She needed to scream at herself. She needed an outlet. By the time she knew it, she was back at the tree from yesterday. As she sat down, she couldn’t help but pout. She’s frustrated, really really frustrated.

“Where we going?” Claire asks Finn as he drives out of her neighbourhood.

“Harbour.” He smiles at her.

“I love the harbour!” She couldn’t help but feel the excitement as she sat in her seat.

By the time, they were there, Finn helped her out of her seat before going back to his. “Finn, Where are you going?” Claire asked in panic as he started his car again. She really tried for this date. She was wearing a bit more makeup than usual and she was even wearing a dress.

“Look behind you.”Finn smiles sadly then drives away. Claire turns around to see Harry in a suit, holding a rose.

“Harry…” She walks towards him. He gives her the pink rose before holding onto her hand and directing them to the restaurant in the front. “Wait, what about Finn?” Harry rolls his eyes as he pulls a seat out for her.

“Is it not obvious that I’m your date tonight.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me love, or I might get that boy to come back here and continue this date for me.” Her cheeks flushed red as she looks at him.

“Why couldn’t you ask me out on a date?”

“I won another bet Finn and I made so, he had to set us up.” Harry licks his lips and smirks. “You better finish everything on your plate sweetheart, I’ve been saving up my money since 5th grade for a date with a girl.”

It was around 6:30 PM as they walked alongside each other in front of the water. Harry couldn’t help but give his jacket to Claire since it was quite cold tonight. “You wanted to know more about me huh?” “Yeah.” Claire rolls her eyes at Harry’s statement. “Just forget about it-”

“My father passed away 5 years ago and we couldn’t pay for our house, so we moved to a smaller one. It’s where I live now. I have a stepfather so he’s been helping my mom now.” He glances at her and squeezes her cheek. “Don’t cry, Claire. I know it’s sad but that’s what life is.” Claire stops walking. For the first time in three years, she’s able to look him in the eyes without feeling nervous.

“I’m here for you.”

“I know.” He takes her hand and nods his head to the right to gesture they should walk again. “You know what’s funny? I ‘ve always known about you. I just never really spoke to you.”

“I know!” Claire laughs as she plays with the rose, bumping it on her face. “I used to watch you all the time and observe what stuff you wore and what you like to eat.” They stop walking in front of the boats.

“So, you were a stalker?” Harry laughs as her cheeks turn red. “Oh, stop acting shy. I like you too.”

“I never said I liked you!” Claire begins to walk again but Harry grabs onto her wrist to pull back.

“Well, I’m telling you… I like you, Claire Jameson.”

“I like you more, Harry Styles.” Harry’s eyes crinkle as he hears her response. He rubs her hair at the top of her head, before kissing her forehead.

“Alright, I won’t fight with you on that.

~ Five months later

“Hey, baby,” Harry smirks as he catches Claire into his arms. Football practice had just finished and Hary couldn’t wait to take his girlfriend home, especially with the heart eyes she’s been giving him since the whole thing started.

“Hi!” She hides her face in his T-shirt as she wears his hoodie.

“Gross!” A voice teases them, “ Styles you better have my sister home by 10.” Tom walks with their other teammates out of the change room. Harry just nods as he takes his girl’s hand.

They walked together towards the tree at the end of the field. The sun was setting as mixtures of purple and pink covered the sky. Claire sat down as Harry laid his head on her lap.

“I have a question.” She asks her boyfriend as she plays with his soft brown curls.

“Mhm.” He closes his eyes and rubs his face on her stomach.

“Would you rather date me or the most beautiful girl in the world?” Harry just rolls his eyes and sits up.

“The most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Harr, that was supposed to be a trick question.” Harry leans in to leave kisses all over her face.

“You are. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.” He kisses her and smiles, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harrystyles fanfic #harry styles imagines #harrystyles oneshots #one direction #one direction one shots #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #frat boy!harry #highschool! au #harrystylesfluff

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anna-pixie · 4 years

Text

my wife / poe dameron -> 3

PART THREE

escape time!!

summary: you’re back to being tortured once more, but a sudden power cut gives you a chance to escape.

pairings: poe dameron x reader

warnings: mentions of torture

***

Your legs are numb, you’ve been sat in the same position for about a week now and you can feel your will shattering already. Is this really happening again?

It makes sense that after a while, the First Order would realise you were feeding them false information. You managed to evade detection for about 4 months, but now you were back at square one, chained up in a dark room being tortured again.

You let out a scream as the ship suddenly drops, your body lurching forward as the dim lights cut off completely. Your cuffs unpower and release your limbs as all of the power in the ship seems to have been stopped. This only lasts for a second but it is more than enough time for you to get out of your binds.

The lights flicker back on and you notice that the door is not fully closed, you sprint over to it and quickly jam your bare foot in it to stop it from sliding closed. You wince at the intense pressure, trying to ignore the pain as you realise this is probably your only chance to escape. You can hear yelling as you make a run for it, and as you hide in a small cubby in the corridor, you realise that there must be members of the resistance infiltrating the ship. Oh, this is way too good to be true.

What if they don’t want you to go back with them? They’ve left you here for 9 months, that’s a pretty clear message, right? You press your back against the wall, holding your breath as you hear the familiar sound of stormtrooper’s marching. A squadron of about 50 troopers march past, thankfully not spotting you as you crush yourself against the wall.

You let out a breath once they pass, carefully creeping into the hallway whilst keeping your back against the wall. You’re so focused on looking behind you to make sure the troopers don’t turn back, that you don’t notice the person running your way.

You crash into a hard body, which sends you tumbling to the ground with a scream that you desperately try to stifle.

“...Y/N?” You look up, a choked sob lodging in your throat as your eyes land on Rey, her saber out as she gazes at you like she’s seen a ghost, “Y/N? Oh, Maker!” She screams, crushing you in a hug that has her tumbling to the ground, her on top of you.

The both of you seem to just forget about the danger surrounding you as you sob, clutching onto each other for dear life.

“Rey?” You question, you’re unsure whether you’re hallucinating or whether she is actually there in front of you. You touch her face lightly, a stifled breath leaving your mouth when you feel her warm skin.

Rey isn’t one to get emotional during dangerous situations, but as she sits before you with sobs racking her body, you realise that they never abandoned you, they couldn’t have. You embrace each other some more until Finn rounds the corner, reminding Rey that they need to hurry up. He stops in his tracks, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him.

“Y/N…?” He takes a moment to be shocked, thankfully snapping out of it quickly and telling you both to get a move on, you can reunite properly later. Finn can always be trusted to be the level headed one.

You realise that yes, you’re still on the First Order vessel surrounded by 1000s of stormtroopers who are ready to kill you on sight. Rey stands quickly, holding her hand out and helping you get to your feet too. Her and Finn take a moment to drag their eyes over you, sorrow coating their features as they take in what has become of you.

To put it simply, you’re a shell of what you once were. The starvation has pulled your cheeks taught and made your skin sickly, you’re covered in bruises and your lip is busted at the side, a trail of blood that hasn’t been wiped is still underneath your lip. Rey blinks back her tears and snaps back into action, pulling out her saber as Finn lifts his blaster.

“Chewie is waiting in the craft for us, we need to go left, we created a … diversion … on the other side of the ship.” Finn explains as the three of you creep quietly down the silent halls, and you jump suddenly when you hear an explosion from the way you just came.

“Yeah, Poe is shooting out the canons as we speak.” Your breath stills, and you fight the tears that prick your eyes at the thought of Poe.

“He’s… he’s here?” Your voice shakes and Rey quickly shushes you, hearing the approaching sound of marching. It’s only one set of footsteps this time but you would recognise them anywhere, “We need to go. Now. It’s Kylo.”

You take a detour down a small corridor, breaking into a sprint once you’re close enough to the hangar. You spot the falcon at the front of the ship, presumably the troopers are too focused on finding the intruders that they didn’t even notice Chewie flying the ship in.

The three of you only dare breathe again once you have climbed into the falcon and the door is closing behind you. You risk one final glance back into the ship and lock eyes with the approaching Kylo. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips downturned as he watches you finally escape. You expect him to shoot at the vessel, sprint towards you with his saber bared, but instead he just mouths two words.

“I’m sorry.”

***

Getting off the falcon at the resistance base feels like it’s too good to be true, you’re greeted by a teary-eyed General Organa who wraps you in your favourite blanket.

Finn and Rey explained everything to you on the way back to the base. You listened in horror as they explained the body that they found (they realise now must have been planted by the First Order) and the funeral they had for you. All the while, you were being excruciatingly tortured. You tried to contact Poe on the ship but his comms must have been busted during the mission, because there was no reply from him.

“We failed you, Y/N. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us.” The General speaks as she walks you across base, you try to ignore all of the shocked faces looking your way. To them, you’ve literally risen from the dead. And you sure do look like hell.

“You didn’t fail me General. Believe me I have spent the past few months cursing you all, but that was before I found out that you thought I was dead. You already have my forgiveness.” Leia presses her forehead onto yours, telling you what she doesn’t need to say with words.

“A certain Commander went straight to bed from the mission. I don’t think he knows about the good news.” She gives you a knowing smile and nods in the direction of Poe’s quarters. You grin at her, giving her a hug before wandering off towards Poe’s room.

Nerves overtake your body suddenly, will it be awkward? You haven’t forgotten what happened the last time you saw each other. You rap quietly on his door but realise that it is propped slightly open, so you wedge your hand in the gap and slide it open.

Poe is curled up in a ball on his bed, surrounded by blankets as he sniffles slightly. You smile sadly at the sight and bite your lip when he grumbles suddenly.

“Who is it?” His voice is deep, unbothered as he doesn’t even look in your direction.

“It’s your wife.”

His head snaps up so quickly you think he might have given himself whiplash, and he chokes on his breath as he sees you there, your eyes meeting for the first time in 9 months. Poe thinks he must be dreaming.

***

(inbox me if you would liked to be added to the tag list, whether for this fic, poe in general, or another character entirely)

tag list:

@thescarletknight2014

@starrykitn

@starlite41

@loki-an-idiot

@kasiarella

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x oc #poe x reader #poe imagine #poe x oc #poe x you #poe dameron x you #star wars imagine

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honestsycrets · 4 years

Text

The Gods Only Knew || [ Hvitserk x Reader x Ivar ]

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader, ivar x reader (platonic? shit i dunno)

❛ type | series

❛ summary | Oleg brought you to a Thing. You’re pretty sure you know why-- despite your lover’s presence.

❛ tags | secret relationships, arranged marriage, brotherly tension, not really a love triangle, unless ya’ll want one, asshole oleg, like usual.

❛ sy’s notes | i wrote this on request for my-little-wolfe, but it isn’t exactly what she wanted. Patreons, I’m really sorry. I went to post this but it seems like the platform has been down.

The gods knew why Oleg made you come on his impossible trip to Norway. There was more than one reason to be here, he said. With Oleg-- you always had to be a step ahead. Always prepared for what would be inevitable. The inevitable was as you knew it.

Oleg had someone he wanted you to meet during this Alþing. As a woman of minor influence, you surely wouldn’t be involved in the creation of new laws or an agreement for the future. You knew he wanted you to meet someone to marry someone despite knowing very good and well that you already wanted someone.

So yes, the gods knew why Oleg made you come on his impossible trip to Norway-- and maybe you did too. It wasn’t as if he needed your consent to marry you off.

You sat with your falcon upon your wrist. On the outskirts of the gathering, you were well aware of the men coming in and out, boasting about their sexual prowess or lack thereof. More likely, lack thereof.

Olga squawked as Dym slashed at the meaty carcass of a small game animal between her fingers. She loved the thrill of feeding him, but not so much watching him snatch it from her. You watched Dym pick and swallow with envious ease.

“I’m sure its nothing,” Olga said. “It is-- well, he probably wanted the company.”

You turned your head over, propping your cheek on your hand. “And that’s why he wanted me to wear this dress.”

“Well--” Olga puffed out her lower lip. She’s struggling to make up a good enough excuse. You don’t blame her. You would too. “At times we should--”

“Should what?” you snapped. “He’s lying to me.”

You just knew it. The only evidence you needed was whoever he would have you meet. You had your suspicions and your hopes. “It isn’t him he wants me to marry.”

“Have a little faith in him.”

You watched Dym swallow his catch of the day and imagine Oleg probably looks the same as he negotiated trades-- or rather, threatened his way through them. You smoothed out your skirt and stood, holding Dym on your wrist.

“It’s hard to when he’s a tyrant. I’m going to shop.”

The journey into the sea of tents was a short walk. Male boys soared past you into the maze of testosterone and their own simple troubles. On occasion, you might have the occasional child, a girl, who stopped to marvel at your presence.

“You’re a princess!” an exclamation of the headdress, rather than a question.

You smiled chastely, “Unfortunately.”

The blonde-haired girl barely understood what you meant now. But maybe, one day, she would. You pressed into the makeshift village. Your fingers had barely run across a fine fur when you heard boots tapping down from the tent’s roof. You glanced up in time to catch a whirl of green and pale skin touch down. The pleats of Dym’s peppered wings outstretched, almost to take off, but you quickly snapped back.

“Prince Hvitserk,” snapped the old vendor, a man from Kattegat, where Hvitserk was born and raised. “Don’t tell me you’re up to your old antics.”

“Old habits die hard, old man.” Hvitserk looked that way, then another, sliding carefully behind you as if to wait for you to finish. It was a lie-- the edges of his fingers considered the back of your dress, tracing the loops of the fabric looped into a bow with his fingertips.

“Here to see my wares?”

“I’m in need of a new coat.” He answers.

He’s being brazen. Many days had not yet passed since you arrived here for the Thing where food and goods would be traded. Hvitserk acted as if-- he was fearful of nothing. The old man’s eyes crinkled in fuller wrinkles, knowingly pushing aside his table.

“Perhaps you should come look at my finer stock.”

“What a good idea. You’re full of them today.” Hvitserk stepped inside. You on the other hand did not. Not until the old vendor gestured his hand with a flick of his head. “Hurry on then. I remember being young. Go before the eyes find you.”

Inside the tent, you did find wealthier furs and capes. There was a place where an old woman was mending cloaks, sitting with an old elegancy you hoped to only come upon in your old age, should you get there. Thwacking behind another flap, you were tugged to the side.

Dym didn’t appreciate that either.

“Ow fuck--” Hvitserk jerked his leather-clad wrist back, not at all ignorant of the bird that was so stubbornly protective of its master, but rather annoyed as you found a stand for one of the old man’s birds. “I thought you taught him not to bite.”

“Not to bite?” you asked, verging on laughter. You set Dym on the stand to sit, languidly moving toward Hvitserk. He brought his leather gauntlet up to motion toward the striations that dominated his wrist.

Hvitserk hissed. “Yes not to bite-- what else?”

“He wouldn’t if you didn’t scare him.” You took his wrist, setting a small kiss to the affected area. Hvitserk hummed appreciatively for the motion. “Maybe I can live with it.”

“I wasn’t sure that you’d come.” He takes a step forward-- and you take one back-- back and back until your back connects with the lip of a table. You pull yourself on top of the heavy table, complete with a pile of furs from small game animals. Ones that the old man surely would sell out of before long.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you kept him ignorant of the truth, partially, because you wanted to be ignorant of it too. It was better when his breath was warm and gentle against your lips, close enough to be familiar. His thin lips pull from their usual flat lipped appeal, pulling with a practiced smile.

“I don’t know. I thought he wouldn’t let you,” he moves his lips soundlessly against the corner of your lips. Small, practiced butterfly kisses verged on a genuine full kiss to your lips. You leaned into the warmth of his cracked lips, only to receive his typical well rounded kiss, the one that said he wanted something else. Then, he moved on, drawing one after another against your neck, the occasional bite that had you smacking him--

“Don’t do that!”

“Why not?” he heaved, his breath was hot and warm, and how could you deny him?

“He’ll see.”

“Then let him see.”

Ten kings were gathered for the Alþing that warm summer evening where the warm waters ran freely, cascading down a local waterfall that set a calm and tranquil backdrop to the warm flicker of an open fire that kissed his cheeks inside a full tent. Ivar’s food had gone bad in a span of minutes in his lap.

Oleg has a way of ruining food. All kinds of food-- doesn’t matter what it is. The way he leans on the edge of the boundaries of society and never means the truth. It truly aggravates him. Ivar might be on the outside looking in but--

At least he means what he says.

“Why don’t you let my brother marry her?” Ivar said.

Sitting across from him at the blacksmith’s tent was Oleg the Prophet. His hair was cut short, smooth with the violent tattoos that marked him as a chieftain of his people; those who sailed east and came back to trade their wealth of goods. This year, he would trade more than honey and slaves.

“He’s insignificant.”

Ivar glanced through the open flaps where you rushed out beside Hvitserk from the old man’s tent. Your long skirt tumbled over the grass. The little children seemed to notice that, stopping you to talk, before they would scurry on. It had gotten late. Night had fallen. You donned Hvitserk’s dark fur. He shared something sweet with you at the tent next to the old man’s, smoothing his finger over your plump lip, and no one said anything. No one would say anything-- a son of Ragnar, a sister of the prophet.

Hvitserk was brazen. Ivar’s head swayed one side then snapped to another. In a rare flicker of empathy, Ivar spoke without weighing his options properly. “I’ve taken too much from him.”

Oleg sat imposingly across from him. His heavy boots propped on a smooth rock, and as he leaned into the flickering flame, it was to bully him into what he wanted. “Come on, Ivar the Boneless. You can’t tell me you’re denying my alliance?”

“No--” he looked ahead, bent over the axe in his lap. “What I am saying is--” the words stutter on their way out, rare for Ivar who normally bore his father’s silver tongue. He gestures with his metal pick, “Look at them.”

Oleg does him that favour and looks where you both stood. Hvitserk bent to whisper something into your ear. Something that the tooth locked prophet hasn’t missed, not in the way you clutched your long waterfall sleeves to your lips, smiling, nodding. He almost lurched up, his brow scrunched up in annoyance.

“What of it?”

“They are in love,” Ivar leaned into the prophet. “How can I take that from him?”

Oleg stared in a way that supplied his reply. “It is easy. You tell them or we can eliminate him entirely.”

“Are you threatening my brother?”

“Do I need to?”

He’s reminded of Hvitserk’s oath. He was going to submit himself to the element of violence-- and in return, he expected Ivar’s renewed loyalty. Unspoken forgiveness. The guards standing watch outside the door are reflections of the men Oleg holds over Ivar’s newly established troops as king.

“Come on Ivar the Boneless… I did not think you were such a stupid man. Here,” Oleg barked your name. “I’ll show you.” You scurried in, setting Dym in his cage, before looking toward Ivar and Oleg.

There’s a sudden realization that spreads across your face-- as if you want to say you knew it, but with your hand tense on the fur, you’re more concerned with whether or not Oleg had seen everything. Ivar looks down, his nails bitting the thickened skin of his palms.

“What is it?” you asked. Hvitserk trailed your steps. He stopped when Ivar’s hand shot out to cut him off from going a step further. His hand tremors. Oleg seized you by the shoulders and sat you down where he once sat, bending in nice and close, where his short-cropped beard itched your rosy cheek.

“You’re marrying Ivar.”

When Hvitserk looked at him, he knew he was fucked. Ivar swallowed dryly and accepts the wealth of eyes upon him when Oleg steps away. “You see?” he pats Ivar on the shoulder on his way out. “It is that easy.”

He knew that look. He’s been here before. Only this time-- he wanted to shout, rather than explain to his brother, that it wasn’t his fault. You sobbed something out but he only catches the end of it. No, no. Hvitserk knelt before you. Ivar faded into the background of the tawny tent.

He’s fucked.

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#hvitserk x reader #hvitserk/reader #hvitserk imagine #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #vikings/reader #Vikings x Reader #honestsycrets fic

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diddlesanddoodles · 4 years

Text

DUMPLING ch 54

WARNING: This chapter contains brief mentions of gore and themes that some readers may find disturbing or alarming.

Nenani could not stop thinking about the strange boy in the tree. What did he mean that she smelled like fire? They all had been sitting around a fire the night before, so should they not all smell like fire? Why only her? Or did he mean that he could smell her magic? Did magic have a smell? And if Haiyer did have magic, as the stranger boy insisted, why had he not bloomed yet? Had her mother put a seal on him as well? No, that did not make sense at all. Their mother ran from Aidus out of fear that he would kill Haiyer for not having magic.

She suddenly had a lot of questions for Maevis once they got back to the castle. And perhaps a few for her mother as well.

They did encounter a number of other bodies as they walked, forever sleeping among the tangled roots, but they did not stop to inspect them as they had the others. Keral’s eyes studied them as they passed, but he kept a steady pace that Farris matched. The kitchen master did not even look at them, and Nenani was growing concerned that he might find them upsetting. There wasn’t much Farris could not face, and the sheer practicality of his manner made it all the more worrying to Nenani. She hated the idea of him being upset. Not mad, she was quite accustomed to that. But the idea of Farris being upset was disconcerting. His eyes seemed to dart away the moment a body came into view, his shoulders tensing up, and there was a subtle shift in his breathing. He didn’t want to see them.

She couldn’t blame him.

………

It was barely an hour passed mid-day when they finally came across a road. It was made of white and grey gravel, pounded flat over years of heavy use, with neatly spaced gouges down the center marking the path of cart wheels. The road looked like a long pale scar carved into the forest, cutting through copses of trees that had stood hundreds of years before there was ever a road. Ten minutes following it and they happened upon the first gate.

Two obelisk-like pillars stood sentry on either side of the road with an ornate iron gate strung between them. The metal bars had been shaped and pounded into elaborate twists and curves. Though it was clearly meant to be a display of wealth, there was something dominating and commanding about it.

Atop each of the obelisks were marbled granite spheres with trees carved into them. Keral rearded the gate with a scrutinizing eye.

“For a man with the reputation for being very hospitable, his garden gate sure don’t look it.”

“Doesn't matter the man’s reputation,” Farris replied. “All gates are meant to keep folks out. Be a lot more suspicious if it looked more welcoming. Besides all that, a gate means we’ve made it. So we can get on with the rest of this madness and get back to the castle.”

The gates themselves were locked tight by a severe-looking padlock, but Keral still gave it an experimental jiggle that sent the iron works screeching and moaning in protest. A few moments later, as though having rung a bell, a figure emerged from behind a bend in the road. He walked quickly, but his short stature and portly middle made his walk more of a waddle. And if the flushed complexion and puffing cheeks were any indication, he was not very pleased. His eyes looked between Farris and Keral’s faces and then to Jae and Nenani, who both were peeking out from behind the brothers’ heads. His eye narrowed and he flung his arm out to his right in a manic gesture.

“Deliveries are to be made at the red gate,” the man said, waving his arm. “How many times must we tell you bloody...”

The man paused, suddenly taking note of Keral’s coat and its color. A little of the blood in his cheeks drained away. Keral’s easy stance straightened and his muscles and tendons tightened as he assumed a more commanding presence.

“Deliveries?” he asked, tilting his head curiously. “We aren’t here to deliver anythin’. We’re in need of some assistance as it happens.”

The man swallowed thickly.

“W-well, if you’re needing food, you’ll have to come back later,” the man said. “Alms are only distributed on Fridays. And His Lordship isn’t in residence just now.”

“I know he ain’t here. And we’re not looking for alms either,” Keral said. “My name is Keral Athair, Captain of His Majesty’s Rangers and I’m here to claim quarters for myself and my companions.”

The man balked, and a condescending scoff was just at his lips when his brain reminded it whom he was speaking to and he disguised it behind a cough. He readjusted his stance to match Keral’s, but his shorter stature and more rotund figure did not quite make the effect. “To claim quarters? Sir?”

“Aye. I’m sure you're familiar with the practice, ain’t ye? A man in service to His Majesty may call upon the lords of the kingdom to – ”

“Yes, yes. I am aware, sir, of what claiming quarters means. We just don’t see many rangers up this way and so it has been quite some time since we’ve had...the honor to host,” he said. “And may I ask why you’re here to grace us with your presence?”

“On business for His Majesty,” Keral replied and supplied no more.

Nenani watched the exchange with a mixture of confusion and anxiety. She had never seen anyone talk to Keral the way the sentry did. In her experience, he commanded a great deal of respect. It was a new proposition to witness anything to the contrary. And if Farris’s expression was any sort of a tell, he felt similarly. She wondered if it would be better for him to say who they and Jae were. If a captain of the Rangers did not merit an immediate invitation inside, then perhaps the king’s adopted son and the two heirs to Silvaara would. But Keral remained tight-lipped.

The sentry looked very uncomfortable and ill equipped to know what to do, and it was clearly annoying Keral, who snorted with impatience.

“So then might we be brought up to the house?” he asked shortly. “I’ll need to make use of your falconer to send the king a message. It is of some importance.”

The last part was said with an exasperated inflection. Finally the man seemed to understand well enough, and he stumbled forward to open the gate. But his expression was curiously dour. The iron gates were pushed aside with the screaming of their hinges as the man stepped to the side and waved them in.

“Follow me, if you please.”

The sullen-faced man said nothing as he led them down the long drive. There was a stark contrast between the trees inside the gated property and those outside. While winter had ravaged the foliage of color and leaves, the manicured and pruned trees of the Brennan estate looked as though it were still midsummer.

They were lush and full of leaves, and there was only a splash of autumn colors here or there. The rest were all a verdant green as though suspended in perpetual summer.

“Does he have men tie the leaves back onto the tree?” Jae whispered to Keral. The ranger’s eyes remained steady and he only grunted noncommittally.

“Lord Brennan must be mighty proud of gardeners,” Farris said to their guide. “To be able to keep color like that in this cold.”

The sentry’s head shifted as he answered. “His Lordship takes great pride in his family’s estate and heritage. Maintaining Blythe trees takes a delicate hand and firm knowledge for them to keep evergreen.”

“So it’s not their natural state fer ‘em to be green like that this time ‘a year?” Farris asked.

“Those trees were cultivated by His Lordship’s ancestor more than eight hundred years ago,” he said. “It is a symbol of his house and is believed that so long as the Blythe trees stand, so shall the house of Brennan. So yes, sir, great pains are taken to keep the trees healthy and prospering. Their coloration is a consequence of the superior care they are given.”

Nenani was surprised at just how long it took for them to reach the house. The road took them though two more locked gates before the house came into view at last. Even then, it still took the group another ten minutes to transverse the long drive and arrive at the great stone entryway of the house.

It was easily the largest house she had ever seen. It wasn’t a castle in any sense of the word, but a grand house.Tan and dark stone stacked together in a very pleasing way to make tall strong walls topped with sloping roofs. A single large dormer overlooked the property. For a house, it had many windows and did not appear to have been built with defense in mind, unlike the Vhashallan castle. A vast meadow spread out behind the manor, and she could see the mountains in the distance.

And yet, the nagging voice in her head was buzzing again, much in the same way it had when they had first ventured into the forest. But she was quick to shake the feeling away. This house belonged to Lord Brennan. Her recollection of him was that he seemed very amiable and friendly. Her mother had taken such an immediate liking to him at the dinner. But his house, much like the forest that surrounded it, did not feel welcoming at all.

But then, she had to admit, how something looked upon first meeting did not always reflect the truth of it. She had experienced such a phenomenon time and time again since coming to Vhasshal. Farris and Keral were both such examples. And they were not in any state for being overly critical. So she ignored the little nagging voice. Looking to Farris and then to Keral, she felt secure enough to know there was nothing to worry about. It was nerves, she told herself. She was merely eager to return home.

……………….

A tall, thin woman giant waited for them at the front door. The sentry rushed ahead of them to whisper something in her ear, and she had to bend herself over for him to reach. Her expression did not change, and she merely nodded.

“I shall take it from here, then,” she said to him. “Please return to your post.”

In stark contrast to the sentry, the housekeeper was calm and composed, as though she had been expecting them all along. She was dressed all in a mottled black and dark green fabric and wore her large, hawkish nose proudly. Her small brown eyes stared down along its length. It was almost comical the way she held her head so far back, as though she were going to sneeze at any moment and wanted to be prepared.

“I do apologize, my lords,” she said. “But His Lordship is away at court on His Majesty’s invitation. But the hospitality of this house is at your disposal. I am afraid, though, you have caught us in a bit of an awkward time, however. Most of the rooms are under renovation and are not decent enough for occupation just yet. I have a few small rooms upstairs we put you up in.”

Keral did not meet the woman’s eye but instead gazed around at the house behind her. “We don’t need nothing fancy. A single room will do for all of us. And I’ll be needing to speak with your falconer as soon as possible.”

She dipped into a polite curtsy. “I shall send for him immediately. We also have accommodations more appropriate for the humans, sir, if you wish.”

Keral shook his head. “No. They’re stayin’ with us, ma’am, thanks all the same.”

The woman’s lips pursed tightly. “Of course, sir. I only meant that...”

“They stay with us. We don’t plan on intruding for very long and they’re tired from the journey. If you could show us to a room, we’ll sort it all out ourselves.”

The woman dipped again and made a vague gesture to follow her.

Through the main entry, they spilled out into the atrium. The floors were a dark-colored wood, polished to a high sheen, as were the walls. Marble pillars drew the eye to the ornate wooden ceiling and the carved stone statuettes at the corners, like little stone spies. Tapestries were hung along each wall leading to the main staircase. It too was made of the same dark wood. However, the housekeeper led them down a smaller corridor off to the side, a servant’s entrance, and they followed her to a much more humble set of narrow stairs that led them to a modest guest room. There were three beds lined up along a wall close to the only window. There was a small table on one end of the room and a simple fireplace at the other.

“I shall send the maid up to light the fire for you gentlemen,” she said. Farris went to one of the beds and helped Nenani down from his pack before slinging it from his shoulders. Keral did the same with Jae but did not pulled Haiyer from his pocket. “Shall I send up some supper for you as well, my lord?”

“You’re most kind, ma’am,” Keral replied. “If it’s not too much trouble, could ye have some brought up fer the humans as well?”

She gave the smallest of smiles and inclined her head. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

“My name is Miss Embrews, if you should need anything else. Once the falconer has arrived I shall send a footman to inform you.”

“I would appreciate it,” he replied. And with that, Miss Embrews turned and shut the door behind her. Her footsteps faded away and only then did Keral’s stance relax. He turned to his brother. “That was odd.”

Farris snorted. “That sentry was a prickly lil’ bastard.”

“He was,” Jae agreed, bouncing experimentally on the bed before flopping back. “Why did you tell them who we were? Wouldn’t that have...I dunno, put more of a fire under their arse?”

Keral’s eyes wandered around the room, taking in all the details. “Hm. Eh, might have. But I have a funny feeling. Better play it safe and not say anythin’. Fer now.”

Nenani’s ear tingled. Keral’s senses and intuitions were sharp and well honed. If he was picking up on something just as she was, perhaps he was right and they needed to proceed carefully. Lord Brennan may be genial and kind, but that was no guarantee that his servants were anything of the sort.

“It feels weird here,” Nenani admitted. “The forest felt that way too. Like...something saying we shouldn’t be here.”

Farris nodded. “Aye. Have to agree with ye two. Somethin’s off. Don’t smell right.”

Keral had been walking the room, assessing it and poking at the walls experimentally. He kicked one of the bed’s legs and upon Farris’s comment, he spun on his heels to face his brother, eyes alight with inspiration. “Ye know what it reminds me of, Farris? When Mum would get worked up over something and she’d spend two days washing and polishing everything in the house until it sparkled.”

Farris’s eyes widened. “Fuckin’ hell, yer right. Even smells like it.”

“Everything’s too clean,” Keral said. He looked around the room again with new eyes. “Even the castle ain’t this clean.”

“If there’s no one living here,” Jae said, pushing himself onto his elbows. “Doesn’t it make sense that it’d be clean?”

“Might be. But ye remember when Warren had the Queen’s apartments renovated before the weddin’?” Keral asked. “All the hullabaloo and all?”

Jae nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“Ye remember how filthy the place was all the while? With all the supplies and dirt being tracked everywhere from the workers?”

Jae’s lazy expression widened with clarity. “Yeah. I do remember that.”

Keral nodded. “Aye. She says they’re renovatin’ most ‘a the rooms? Where’s the evidence of it? Where’s the supplies? Where are the workers? The dirt?”

Farris made a displeased rumble. “We need to send that message out quick and get outta here.”

Keral nodded and reached into his pocket to fish Haiyer out and set him down next to Jae. The little boy sprang up to his feet and spent several moments happily celebrating his freedom by frog hopping in circles around the other boy.

“I’ll send the message and we can rest here for the night. Just gotta keep our eyes open fer anythin’ off. And we’ll move on tomorrow with some supplies and maybe a cart. Whatever they’re doin’ up this way, I’ll need more than a funny feeling to inspect further. My position gives me a lot of freedom to dig around, but I’ll need more that to do much of anything. Right now at least.”

“He was really nice at the dinner,” Nenani said. “Mama really seemed to like him.”

“No surprise,” Farris said. “He has a good reputation at court. The king likes him.”

“Haven’t ever spoken with him myself,” Keral said. “But he always seemed a friendly enough man. Not one to show off or bring attention to his person. An odd trait in a courtier.”

Jae snorted. “You mean like Colem does?”

“No one does it like Colem,” Keral laughed. “But say what you want of the man. Personally, I find him to be quite amusing.”

Jae glared up at the ranger. “You only say that because you know how much he annoys me.”

Keral grinned but did not deny the accusation. “Believe it or not, there’s a lot more to that loony bastard than ye might think.”

Jae looked as though he wanted to reply, but they were interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Farris, who had sat down on the bed, reached out to coax Nenani closer to him. Keral motioned for Jae and Haiyer to remain where they were and then turned towards the door. He cracked it open and asked, “Yes?”

“I’m here to build the fire, milord,” said a young and high pitched voice. Keral pulled the door open to reveal a young maid with thin mousy brown hair tucked up under a simple cap. She, like the housekeeper, was very thin, with a hawkish nose. It was painfully obvious there were shared relations. She hurried inside, awkwardly carrying a load of firewood and some flint. “It won’t be but a moment, milords.”

She made quick work of setting the logs inside, but as she worked with the flint, striking it repeatedly to bring up a spark, her eyes darted to the side every so often. Jae, who sat on the bed nearest to her, watched and did not miss the quick glances his way or the pursed lips. Looking to Keral, he shared a bemused look. The ranger only gave a small nod and Jae got up from his spot, taking Haiyer’s hand, and they moved further up the bed and closer to Farris.

The maid rose to her feet as the fire began to burn properly and she gave a small bow. “The footman should be here shortly with your food, milords.”

Keral nodded. “Thank you.”

As the girl departed, a tall middle-aged man crested the stairs carrying a tray. The maid stepped gingerly aside as he moved into the room, and she gave him an amused grin before dashing off back down the narrow stairs. The same smile graced the footman’s face, but dropped the moment the maid was out of sight and he turned to the room. He sat the tray upon the table and turned to Keral.

“Will there be anything else, milord?”

“No, this will do fine. Any news of the falconer?”

“He lives in a cottage away from the house, sir. But Miss Embrews has sent for him. Shouldn’t be much longer, sir.”

Though displeased, Keral nodded. “Good.”

“If it pleases milord, I could take whatever message you may have and meet him halfway with it.”

“No, I will wait for him. Thanks all the same.”

The footman looked disappointed but gave a short nod and quitted the room. The food he had brought consisted of an iron pot and two bowls with a loaf of bread. Farris went over to it, taking the bread in his hands and scrutinizing it.

“Their ovens run too hot. Bottom’s burned,” he said as he dropped it back onto the tray. “I’d kick Quin in the arse fer tryin’ to serve that t’ anyone.”

“Not every baker can be as amazing as yers, Farris,” Keral replied, looking at it for himself. “Looks perfectly fine to me.”

“Say the man who eats dirt,” Farris quipped back. He pulled the lid off the pot. Inside was a cream colored soup with various vegetables and hunks of pale meat. “Looks under seasoned.”

Keral rolled his eyes.

“Gods forgive anyone who under-seasons food around you,” Keral grunted. “Just ladle it out and complain later.”

Farris merely grunted and took up one of the bowls to ladle in the soup. As he filled the first bowl and went to grab the second, a sudden flash of gold light filled the room, startling the lot of them.

“Wait!” cried a familiar voice. An orb of transparent gold hovered over Keral’s head, making quick circles around him. Startled, Keral shied away from it but frowned when recognition hit him.

“Ellis!” Haiyer cried out in delight, getting to his feet and rushing to the end of the bed. “You came back!”

Annoyed, Keral resisted the urge to swat at the fairy. “Oh, back already are we? Where’s that mage ‘a yer’s lass? Don’t suppose he’ll be turnin’ himself in, eh?”

Her voice was frantic and quick and no one could make out what she was saying. She flew away to fly laps around Farris’s head.

“Gods piss on it, girl!” Farris barked. “We can’t understand a word. Slow down.”

The fairy’s golden light took on a red hue as though manifesting her frustration. She flew to the soup pot and slammed the lid back onto the pot and stood on top of it.

“Don’t eat the soup!” she said, breathless.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Keral asked, the annoyance turning to anger.

“Poisoned?” Farris asked, his expression matching his brother’s.

“No!” she said. “People! There are people in it!”

#Dumpling #g/t #Giant/tiny #G/t story #giant tiny #Nenani #Farris #Keral #Jae #Haiyer #Ellis

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eremiss · 4 years

Text

12: Tooth and Nail

(light cw: descriptions of post-fight injuries and being poisoned/drugged. Takes place during Post-HVW MSQ “Consequences”)

Ten minutes, Thancred had said. Ten minutes for Gwen to try and wait out the lingering symptoms of the poison she’d been dosed with, make sure Falcon’s Nest wouldn’t fall apart in their absence, and try to find Honoroit --”If you truly must.”-- then they were heading back to Ishgard to deliver the news of the disastrous Conference. His tone had brooked no room for argument.

She took extra care to mind the time, as being late would likely have Thancred assuming the worst. They’d already had quite enough excitement for one day and she had no desire to add to it, plus his mood was already poor enough.

Ten fruitless minutes later Gwen trudges up the ramp to the landing platform, shoulders hunched and spirits low. The garrison’s morale is understandably poor and there’s naught to be done about it, though it seems her departure isn’t cause for it to deteriorate further. There was no sign of Honoroit anywhere, and the people she’d spoken with hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him.

Her stomach rolls and twists, a weak, nauseous ache permeating her limbs that shivers up her throat whenever she moves too quickly. She’d retched up the tainted wine the moment she was able, but it had plainly been in her system long enough for its effects to linger.

If I knew what was in it, I could maybe try and counteract it somehow… But she doesn’t, and the woman who does is likely dead.

The landing platform is deserted and quiet, the chocobo stables practically empty compared to when she’d arrived. Apparently she’s the one that has to wait for Thancred for a change.

Whoever is supposed to be on watch has abandoned their duty for the moment, and no one around to see her wander past the gates. The wind is faster and sharper without buildings or mountains to block it, cutting through her outer layers and straight down to her bones. She shivers harshly and crosses her arms tightly across her chest as her bangs whip her face and her ears burn themselves numb, missing the sweltering heat of the barracks. At least the sharp chill doesn’t make her feel ill.

Gwen sweeps her eyes across the empty platform, wondering where Honoroit could have gone, and what he might’ve been thinking. There’s no way he just up and abandoned Emmanellain, surely? He’s stuck to his master’s side like glue through everything until now. He couldn’t possibly…

There’s a lump on the far side of the platform. A small figure with brown hair dressed in familiar blue and white garb. It looks sort of like--

Her heart leaps into her throat. “Honoroit?”

He twitches and raises his head, peering blankly at her as she rushes over to him. “M-Miss Ashe?” he croaks, confused.

“Hush, hush, don’t talk,” she chides gently, panic and worry tightening like vices around in her chest as she kneels to inspect his wounds.

Bruises are splattered across every ilm of bare skin, and his clothes are torn and dirtied with patterns that distinctly resemble boot prints. His face is mostly black and blue with a nasty cut over his brow and on his lips, one of his eyes swollen nearly shut.

Honoroit tries to sit up, slow and careful as he shifts his weight and favors his right side. He only makes it halfway before he grimaces and sinks back to the ground with a pained sound.

A fresh surge of concern mutes the dismayed, impotent static buzzing through her thoughts. Questions and anger can wait. She lays a light, comforting hand on his arm and hopes she isn’t touching a sore spot. “Be still, Honoroit...”

He needs to get somewhere warm, first of all, as his lips are distressingly blue. Ideally that will be somewhere with a healer, as her initial assessment of his injuries isn’t good. Even natives of Ishgard aren’t immune to the cold, and she has no idea how long he’s been out here lying on frozen stone. But how to move him without worsening his injuries....

“Honoroit!!” Emmanellain’s distraught voice cries from behind her.

She lifts her head as two sets of footsteps rapidly approach, the nobleman making panicked sounds every step of the way with Thancred, expression grim, just behind him.

When Emmanellain is finally able to see the extent of Honoroit’s injuries his face twists with horror and he drops to his knees by Gwen’s side. “No, no! What have they done to you!?”

He reaches towards Honoroit, and Gwen puts an arm in his way. He whirls on her, his stricken glare demanding an explanation.

She tries to appear calmer than she feels and makes a mollifying gesture, shaking her head. You shouldn’t move him.

A wash of different emotions twist Emmanellains face one way and then another, and he looks like he has half a mind to shout at her. Instead he makes an aggravated, high-pitched whining sound and slaps his hands down on the stone ground.

“Is that you, my lord?” Honoroit offers a feeble smile and struggles for a light tone, as if making a jest, “You... you seem rather flustered.”

“Because of you, you imbecile!” Emmanellain exclaims, “What in the seven hells happened to you!?”

“My… my apologies… Some few of the guests expressed a wish to leave...and I implored them to stay.” He makes a weak imitation of a laugh, “It would seem they took issue with my request.”

Rings would explain the small cuts and abrasions in the bruises on his face...

Gwen’s stomach lurches in a way that has nothing to do with the poison she’d been dosed with. All of her worried thoughts take on a frazzled, angry edge that wears at her already thinned nerves. A twinge in her clenched jaw and a telltale ache shooting from her teeth to her temples signal that she successfully kicked off a headache.

“Gods forgive me…” Emmanellain groans, burying his face in his hands. “If I had only been more careful with my words!”

“Do not blame yourself my lord,” the younger elezen insists. “I know… I know that you and your brother have Ishgard’s best interests at heart. That poor woman… She lives in the past, clinging to memories of the lost.”

He’s admirably composed considering everything that’s happened, even accounting for the fact he’s generally more mature and levelheaded than his master. Empathy for the dissidents and protesters has only made his conviction for Aymeric’s cause that much stronger.

“But the future holds so much promise. So much joy. And you…” His voice wavers and Gwen tenses, her heart skipping a beat. “You... know that better than any…” His words fade to nothing and his eyes slip closed. Then his head lolls to his chest.

Gwen immediately checks his pulse. It’s steady, thank the Twelve, as is his labored breathing, but his complexion has gone frighteningly pale.

“Honoroit?!” Emmanellain half rises, panicked. His mouth works uselessly for a moment before he turns his fearful eyes on Gwen, “Gwen, do something!”

Her chest constricts sharply and she freezes

Ever since the Vault she can’t...

Couldn’t, a small voice corrects. Y’shtola has been tutoring her for more than a moon, and she’s made enough progress that she’s begun regaining the ability to use healing magic. It’s feeble and terribly taxing, a far cry from the white and red magic she used to wield, but she can manage it. As she is now, weakened by that poison and with a fresh host of doubts welling up and knotting in her chest...

But Honoroit needs help. And she can help, at least minorly.

She bites her lip, voices she’ll never hear again murmuring at her in time with her heartbeat. One rings out louder than the others, gentle despite the volume.

For those we have lost. For those we can yet save.

She can’t fully mend his wounds, but she can at least ease his pain. No matter what her clinging doubts try to mutter, she knows she can do something. Not much, maybe, but not nothing, and that’s enough. It has to be. However draining it is on her, she’ll manage. She’s had worse, after all, and she can rest and recover once they’re back in Ishgard. For now... She has to at least try.

Gwen takes a steadying breath and makes a clear place in her mind before holding a hand over Honoroit’s chest. She closes her eyes and breathes, gathering her focus and recalling Y’shtola’s patient instructions, replaying the simple exercises they’d practiced for bells. When it all feels solid enough to work with, she begins to mumble an incantation.

As the spell takes shape a weak light flickers to life under her hand, drifting over Honoroit like mist. She senses bruises of all shapes and sizes, cuts, cracked bones... no internal bleeding or anything blatantly life-threatening, at least. It’s an issue of quantity, the sheer multitude of otherwise-lesser injuries amounting to something more severe.

With the injuries assessed, she shifts her intention to healing. Immediately the spell begins to pull at her in earnest, drawing out her energy and replacing it with intangible weight that begins to pile on her shoulders.

Even a layman could tell that her conjury is that of a novice, at best. But, feeble as it is, it’s still enough to slowly mend cracked bones and knit broken skin, and the cuts on his lips and brow gradually close. Hopefully he’ll be able to rest a little easier.

She knows it won’t be long before fatigue settles in, but hopefully Thancred and Duskfeather will make sure she at least gets back to Ishgard before she falls asleep on her feet. Her head is still pounding a dull rhythm, and she’s sure it will likely start to worsen soon, too. It’s fine… So long as the spell is working, it’s fine.

“He’ll live, but it’s imperative we get him inside and into the care of a chirurgeon once he’s stable,” Thancred says calmly. With any luck his steady composure will help Emmanellain pull himself together. “Gwen can only do so much.”

“Only so much?!” Emmanellain demands shrilly.

Gwen winces, squeezing her eyes more tightly shut against the kick of doubt and frustration that tries to crack her barely-solidified concentration. She screws up her mouth and works to ignore that, too.

Thancred’s tone hardens, “It’s a sight more than either of us can offer, unless you have knowledge of conjury that you’ve been keeping secret.”

Emmanellain struggles for a response, half syllables coming out one after another before he settles for an angry hiss. “Gah! We were so close! Why does it all have to fall to pieces!? Don’t they want to live in peace!? Don’t they want to be happy!? We all want the same thing, and still-- STILL it falls to pieces!”

The words buzz in her ears like stinging bugs, the volume piercing her focus. Suddenly she can feel sweat gathering on the back of her neck despite the wintry chill, and the edges of her vision are doing strange things.

“Tell me, what--what was I supposed to do, hm?!” He demands, a desperate, petulant twinge cracking his voice.

She can feel the way each throb of her head rattles the focus she’d worked so hard to gather, pain and exertion freely jostling her thoughts.

He stomps his foot furiously, “Someone, anyone, tell me: what was I supposed to do!?”

Her vision warps and her headache throbs in her teeth. The spell unravels in her thoughts and on her tongue, and she abandons the incantation with a pained groan.

It’s hard enough to heal Honoroit between her struggles with conjury, the headache, and the lingering symptoms of poison, and now Emannelain is making it all worse by yelling.

She drops her head into her hands and gulps steadying breaths, fingers icy and numb against her pounding head. Stop being dizzy, stop being dizzy... She isn’t sure if it’s her numbed fingers or a genuine fever making her skin so hot to the touch, but the sheen of sweat suggests the latter.

His voice cracks with panic when he realizes she’s stopped her healing spell. “What are you doing?! Don’t stop!”

The Banquet, the Vault, Azys Lla, the Antitower, faces she’ll never see again, and too many other godsamned things shove up up against the inside of her skull until her head feels like it’s going to split in two.

All at once her throat itches with a stifled scream, her eyes sting and her chest aches like she sprinted for malms without stopping.

She doesn’t know what she should do, what she wants to do, but her nerves are bristling, her heart is pounding, and her body is thrumming with desperate, impotent fury, and she’s so sick and tired of losing people, of failing, of being so useless-- of-- of--

A hand clamps on her shoulder and gives one firm shake.

Her thoughts upend and crash back to the earth, abruptly deflating and crumbling into splinters and shards.

“Breathe.”

She sucks in a mouthful of wintry air and chokes on the cold. After a few tries she catches her breath enough to loosen some of the knots in her chest. When did she start holding her breath...?

Gwen’s head is still a litlte woozy as she looks up. Thancred is leaning over her, his mouth set in a firm grimace and his expression woodenly calm. He twitches his head towards Honoroit, Focus. Heal him.

The tide of anger and adrenaline passes as quickly as it came, taking the dizzy spell and a modicum of her headache with it. Gwen wipes the sting out of her eyes in place of shaking her head, pushing away the briars and splinters clinging to the inside of her head. She’s no less overwhelmed than she had been a minute ago, but she’s pushed off the worst of it for the moment. That’s good enough.

Thancred releases her shoulder, straightens and turns to face Emmanellain. The nobleman is being surprisingly quiet, perhaps realizing he’d overstepped.

She counts the breaths hissing between her teeth and grasps for calm, pushing her shoulders down and trying to clear her mind. The sight of Honoroit, battered and unconcious, is sobering enough to quell the last simmering strains of irritation and get her mind back in line again.

She closes her eyes and re-gathers her focus through the haze of her headache, trying to ignore the briefly-forgotten fatigue that’s still hanging on her shoulders. Twelve but white magic is so much more taxing than it had ever been--than it should be.

Gwen rests her hand on Honoroit’s chest to center herself and stubbornly, purposefully mumbles the incantation over and over until the sounds and shapes of the words hollow out a big enough place to hold her concentration.

Emmanellain speaks, “Well? If you have something to say, say it!”

The spell takes shape again, magic trickling from her into Honoroit and flowing out to the worst injuries yet in need of attention. She can feel that the spell is weaker than before, that it’s working more slowly, but it’s still helping. That’s what matters.

Thancred’s voice is hard and flat, scolding, “Stop looking to others. You make your choice and you live with the consequences.”

There’s brief sputtering followed by a few harsh, seething breaths.

Suddenly there’s a short, hard impact. Instinct identifies the sound before her mind can: a punch.

“And what would you know about consequences!?” Emmanellain spits bitterly. “You, who always knows just what to say and just what to do! Your every deed is greeted with a round of applause!”

Gwen winces away from the words, bitterly wondering how fate’s timing could be so spectacularly terrible. There couldn’t be a worse time for such perfectly aimed words. Matoya’s cave and the Antitower are scarcely a sennight behind them. People claim fate likes to ‘jest’, and apparently its sense of humor is twisted and cruel.

All at once the air grows close and heavy, bristling with energy like the calm before a storm. Apprehension tightens across her back and she catches the inside of her cheek in her teeth, worrying thoughtlessly at it. It is much too quiet...

A much louder, harder impact rings out, more like a thunderclap than a drumbeat.

Emmanellain’s yelp of pain is abruptly cut off by the heavy, metallic thud of a chainmailed body hitting stone ground.

Thancred’s voice is low and furious, the point of a knife sinking home. “You know nothing about me. I have fought tooth and nail for the people I hold dear-- done everything in my power to save them, to protect them...and I have failed.” A beat of silence filled with a harsh breath, “Learn to live with it. I have.”

A heavy feeling settles in her stomach, apprehension morphing into worry that convinces her turn her head. She opens her eyes and peeks over her shoulder, keeping the majority of her focus on her tenuous spell.

Thancred is standing over Emmanellain with a face like a thunderstorm, fists clenched tight at his sides. Emmanellain stares silently up at him, frozen in shock.

Thancred seems unharmed, while one side of Emmanellain’s face is rapidly darkening and his jaw is hanging at a slightly awkward angle that suggests it might be broken.

Gwen has never heard Thancred so furious before. She’s never seen him snap. He spat those words like curses, like they’re a burden he’s suffered and agonized over for ages without reprieve. They speak of a kind of deep ache and near-hateful sort of guilt that Gwen is much too familiar with.

Thancred turns brusquely on his heel and storms away in silence.

Gwen avoids Emmanellain’s gaze and turns back to Honoroit.

She immediately resolves to talk to him, but not until he’s had time to cool off and settle out. She’ll do what she can for Honoroit first, then she’ll go after him.

Gwen is more than a little wobbly on her feet as she staggers back down the ramp into Falcon’s Nest. Her vision is behaving itself, but her head is throbbing, her legs are weak, and her stomach is refusing to settle down.

Though it took entirely too much effort, she still finds no small amount of satisfaction in successfully managing healing magic again. She’s improving, slowly but surely.

Casting her eyes around the open square turns up nothing, and she rubs at her heavy eyelids with a pout. She’ll have to go searching, then. But where to start? On a whim, she turns for the barracks.

She finds Thancred in an out-of-the way spot a stone’s throw from where she’d hidden earlier to purge the tainted wine from her system and wait for her grasp on conciousness to solidify. He’s leaning against the wall and radiating the air of a man better left alone, arms crossed tightly across his chest and a stony glower on his face.

He glances up as she approaches, shrewdly scrutinizing the rhythm of her steps and the way she’s carrying herself.

Concern, discomfort and reemourse coil around her chest and tie knots in her head, images of Matoya’s cave flitting past her vision. She takes a slow breath, feeling a bit like she’s readying to try more healing magic.

Mourning and grief do crazy things to people, and no one handles it the same. Gwen knows that. She withdraws, physically and mentally, growing hollow and distant and numb. She wilts and shrinks, always drained and slow as if she’s wrapped in a layer of lead that separates her from the world, trying to insulate and protect herself. She hasn’t yet mastered pulling herself out of it, but she’s always --eventually-- managed it with the help of her friends.

Thancred closes himself off and binds himself to his mistakes, as if not forgiving himself for them means he won’t make them again. He pushes others away and walls himself in with his hurt, treating it as a lesson to be learned rather than a wound to mend. It lies just beneath the surface and drives him to lash out when it grows too painful to hold, like on the landing platform, and over time it sinks into him, a weight he carries that he never speaks of or shows even as it changes him.

But...

It’s not that Gwen thinks he doesn’t have the right to his misery or grief, especially after losing someone so dear as Minfili. The events of the Antitower are barely behind them. Of course he’s still hurting and struggling with all of it.

It’s how he’s handling it--or rather, not handling it, and what it’s doing to him that she’s worried about. He’s hurting. He’s insisting on struggling alone, on holding everything in and carrying it with him, like he did after being freed from Lahabrea, and refusing to allow it to rest.

It’s too soon to really begin healing, maybe, but not so much that she can’t remind him that he isn’t alone.

Gwen stops in front of him, just out of arm's reach. Her limbs are heavy, her head is throbbing and her stomach is shifting unpleasantly, but she does her best to keep her discomfort to herself. She settles her weight on her feet and regards him with a concerned and placidly questioning look. What was that back there?

They stand in silence, simply looking at one another and waiting.

Thancred’s expression loses a smidgen of its harshness, though otherwise remains flat. Gwen loosely folds her arms against the chill, chewing the inside of her lip and worrying the sleeves of her coat between her fingers. She can wait for as long as she needs to.

Thancred shifts against the wall and sharply turns his head, putting the black wrap of cloth towards her. A dismissal, most likely. He doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t want sympathy and, more than that, he doesn’t want her there. It stings, even as she corrects herself that he likely wants to be left alone to brood and doesn’t want anyone around.

Blue and purple are creeping out from beneath the edge of the cloth. The evidence of Emmanellain’s punch.

Gwen shifts her weight, numb fingers prickling as they slowly warm, her teeth sharp against the inside of her cheek. Then she takes one slow, somewhat cautious step forward.

Thancred tenses but doesn’t move, clinging to the hope she’ll go away if he ignores her long enough.

She takes another step and comes to a stop, now well within arm’s reach. She cautiously lifts a hand towards his face.

The motion makes him twitch and he jerks his head back around. She pulls her hand back in time to avoid colliding with his bruised cheek.

His expression is guarded as he glowers at her, a hint of incredulity and impatience tugging at his mouth while his eye is sharp. There’s a feeling tense expectation hanging about him that has a definite, bristling edge to it. He’s braced for a reprimand or a lecture, and is plenty ready to retaliate and start an argument. In fact, he almost looks like he’s hoping for an excuse to do just that.

Gwen gives him nothing of the sort, regarding him with a calm, weary look. She tentatively moves her hand towards his bruised cheek again, carefully studying his reaction.

He allows it, watching her like a hawk.

She stops short of touching his bandana, fingertips hovering just beside his cheek. She focuses on the back of her hand and scrounges up the last onzes of her energy for just one more small conjury spell.

Thancred’s jaw shifts beneath her hand, his shoulders tightening and lifting like he’s getting his hackles up.

A somewhat tenuous whisper of soothing magic ripples out of her fingers and flows across his skin. The effort leaves her feeling a bit like she stood up too quickly, but she sets her jaw and keeps at it. The fringe of blue and black begins to gradually soften and melt away, shrinking back beneath the edge of his bandana.

After a few slow, drawn out seconds his jaw flexes and he lets out a long, slow exhale that sounds distinctly like resignation. A bit of tension bleeds out of his posture and his shoulders begin to slowly sink back down.

Thancred’s expression gradually smooths out, angry sparks fading and antagonistic edge dulling. Eventually it settles into the dour, brooding look she’s more accustomed to.

His jaw tenses up, relaxes just enough to shift, then tenses again. She imagines the sound of his teeth grinding.

He turns his head ever so slightly, just enough that his cheek barely connects with the pads of her fingers. He takes a few careful breaths and closes his eye, brow not quite furrowed. There’s an air of resigned expectation to his silence and the passing seconds, as if he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Gwen doesn’t say a word, maintaining their slight connection and not pushing for more. He’s free to pull away, or to lean in. He’s free to talk, or not.

At length his eye opens again, and he looks a great deal calmer and more composed. “...I may have overreacted.” His voice is quiet but unapologetic, as flat as his mouth. “But it needed to be done. He was becoming hysterical.”

Gwen tilts her head a little, acquiescing the point. Thancred’s reaction wasn’t appropriate, no, and it was worryingly unlike him, but it was… understandable. Emmanellain is the one who threw the first punch, in all fairness, and he’d been doing a spectacular job of hitting their sore spots before that. She doesn’t blame the young nobleman for his frustration or whatever else he’s feeling, but that doesn’t mean she’s willing to listen to him rant whilst trying to heal his manservant.

Thancred takes another long breath, gaze drifting slowly over the stones around them. Eventually the silence urges him to speak again, “I understand the desire to look for reasons. For excuses. To convince yourself you had no choice. But the past is the past, and there is naught to be gained from reliving your mistakes.”

His tone has a heavy undercurrent of repetition to it, as though he was reciting words he was tired of hearing. Yet the words make his frown turn pensive, if a little wrinkled with bitterness, in a way that makes her think he’s yet working to fully process that statement himself.

Gwen tilts her head the other way, giving him a meaningful look. Are you telling me this? Or yourself?

“I know this,” Thancred insists immediately. “I know this.” His expression tightens, almost slipping into a grimace, and his eye drops back to the ground, “But he…”

He he huffs a sharp, frustrated breath and shifts moodily against the wall. He makes a point to keep his head still, maintaining their tentative connection.

She wonders how much striking Emmanellain made him realize the extent to which everything is affecting him.

Baby steps. Healing takes time. Understanding and overcoming one’s frustrations with themselves is a long road, and acknowledging them in the first place is the first step. He’s taken a step in the right direction. Hopefully.

Gwen can senses his cheek isn’t quite healed, but reluctantly admits she’s too spent to finish the job. She still has to fly to Ishgard and deliver the report to Aymeric, after all. And with her luck she’ll likely have more to endure after that, too, poison be damned.

She lets the spell peter out with a weary sigh, letting her hand linger for a few more seconds before dropping it back to her side.

Thancred takes a long moment to look her over again, bluntly studying her face and the way she’s holding herself. "You look hellish.”

Gwen’s lips twitch with a hint of a smile. No one is around, they’re alone and in private for the moment, so she reaches out to brush the tips of her fingers along his knuckles.

He watches, not quite impassively.

As her hand withdraws his turns, slowly as if it’s half-frozen. He curls his fingers just enough for the tips of hers to catch on his.

It’s surprising how steadying such a small thing can be.

Less than a breath later he lets hers drop. He shoulders himself off the wall and straightens up with a bit of muttering, brushing off his clothes. “Get your bird and let us away. We’ve important matters to attend to in Ishgard, and have kept the Lord Commander waiting entirely too long already. The lordling can arrange his return on his own time.”

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

Tooth and nail - adverb with all one's resources or energy; fiercely

Oy vey @_@ this FFXIVWrite is really kicking my butt.

This is the first, and only, idea that sprung to mind when I saw the prompt. This part was so intense, and the conference just felt like the latest thing in the long list of “everything is going wrong fuuuuuu” @_@ I need to write more about this particular time in Post-HVW

#ffxivwrite2020 #Guinevere Ashe #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Gwencred #Post-Heavensward #Dragonsong War #My Writing #UGH MY BRAIN #god when he punched Emmanellain @_@#I was like 'oohhhh shit o.o... Uh Thancred? You good my guy?'

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captainjanegay · 4 years

Note

hi kasia! could you try “quit staring! they’ll notice us!” for the drabble challenge? just a little fun prompt to try ☺️❤️ i just posted this one too— i shouldn’t but it seems fun!

OK so. This took an unexpected turn. And it’s also 1.5k. I hope there are no mistakes but I can’t promise anything. I really hope you’ll like it, love, I quite enjoyed writing it ;’)

Bucky noticed them about 10 minutes ago. It really wasn’t that hard, they were quite obvious, even despite all the precautions they seem to be taking. Maybe someone without enhanced hearing, years of tactical training and god ole paranoia of constantly being watched wouldn’t notice. But unfortunately, Bucky isn’t that someone.

He spotted them as he and Steve were taking their last laps around the Prospect Park. They stared. Bucky smiled at them in response. They run away. At first he assumed it was the last he’d seen them. But he was proven wrong quickly enough.

Now, he is very aware of the two little kids, currently hiding behind a tree about 20ft. from where he and Steve are sitting. They can’t be more than 7, maybe, although the girl seems to be a bit older than the boy. Every so often one of the little heads peaks from behind the trunk and takes a quick look at them only to disappear again. Bucky tries really hard not to laugh.

The funniest part is that Steve seems to have absolutely no idea. He has a little notebook balanced on his knee and there’s this slightly detached look on his face, the one he always gets when he’s sketching something. Bucky loves that look. Although he is kind of surprised and impressed by how Steve even managed to bring the notebook. His workout shirt is barely containing Steve’s body. The pants aren’t much better, really. It all looks ready to burst at the seams. But anyway, the point is—when Steve’s drawing, there are very few things able to shake him out of his zone.

Apparently little kids don’t possess this kind of power.

“I’m telling you I’m right!” Bucky hears the girl’s insisting voice.

“Maybe! But maybe not! And mum always says we can’t talk to strangers!”

“Captain America is not a stranger! And quit staring! They’ll notice us!”

Bucky snorts quietly, leaning back on the bench. Accidentally, as he tries to make himself comfortable, he nudges Steve’s shoulder. The other man sends a distracted glance his way but does a double take seeing Bucky’s smile.

“Why are you laughing?” Steve asks.

“It’s nothing,” Bucky waves a hand at him.

“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you? What did I do this time, you jerk?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow and chuckles again. “I wasn’t laughing at you! You’re paranoid, Rogers. Not everything revolves around your ass.”

“Oh really? That’s not what you—” Steve starts but Bucky covers his mouth with his hand before he can finish.

“Don’t be gross in public, please. It’s enough I have to put up with you at home,” Bucky says but his laugh betrays that he’s not being serious. “And I was laughing because there are two little kids hiding behind that tree,” he discreetly points this head in the right direction, “and they’re very excited about seeing Captain America.”

“Really? I mean I’ve seen them before but aren’t they just playing? Why do you think they even recognise us?”

In response Bucky raises his eyebrow and points towards the tree again. Just as Steve looks, a dark haired, curly head appears but hides quickly, noticing that Steve is watching.

“OK, you might have a point. So what—”

Before he can finish there is movement from behind the tree. The girl emerges first, a determined look on her face that seems oddly familiar to Bucky. She’s basically dragging the smaller boy by his arm and he—not having any options left, so it seems—trotes after her. She stops in front of the bench and squares her shoulders, jutting her chin out. It doesn’t seem to faze her in the slightest that both Steve and Bucky are staring at her expectantly. Bucky is impressed. The little boy is a bit more wary, partly hiding behind the girls back.

“Hello,” she says. “I’m sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to make sure. Are you Captain America?”

“Hi,” Steve answers with a smile. “Well, ye—”

“Or ex-Captain America, right? I’ve heard that the Falcon is now the Captain. So should I call you ex-Captain America or—”

Bucky tries really hard not to burst out laughing, seeing Steve’s stunned face. He only partially succeeds. He has to cover his mouth with his hand to hide his amusement from the kids.

“You can just call me Steve? But yeah, I am—I used to be Captain America.”

“OK, Steve. I just wanted to make sure I recognised you correctly. You were a great superhero. I’m going to be Captain America when I grow up, too,” she says, matter-of-factly. “Me and my brother go for karate lessons. He’s not as good as me, though, but he is still little, he’s only 6.”

Said brother is still quite wary of them but his annoyance wins and he elbows his sister on the side as she says that. Steve’s face gradually becomes even more confused.

“I was wondering - is the shield very heavy? I’m not that strong now but I’ll manage it when I grow up. How much does it weigh?”

“Um—,” Steve glances over at Bucky, looking a bit lost. “Oh, I don’t really—I’ve never really checked how much exactly it weighs. But it’s pretty light, even for someone without superstrength. It’s actually made of a very special and light materials—”

“Oh yeah, Proto-Adamantium, I know! I’ve read an article about it once,” the girl nods.

Bucky has never expected that from all the things Steve has ever faced—both before the war and the serum and later—all it takes to intimidate him is a little girl. Quite an extraordinary little girl, but a little girl nonetheless. It is the best thing that Bucky has ever experienced. He can’t wait to tell Sam about it. And warn him about the possible competition for the job.

Turning his eyes away from the pair for a moment, Bucky notices that the little boy is staring at him. It’s nothing new. People tend to stare at him, even after all this time. He can’t blame them for keeping their guard up around him. It sucks but he got used to this. Anyway, he smiles softly at the boy, hoping not to scare him more.

To his surprise, the boy takes a step to the side, emerging from behind his sister’s back and then another one that takes him closer to Bucky. He is wringing his hands nervously but his gaze is still focused on Bucky.

“I—I,” he tries quietly and Bucky waits for him to continue, still smiling encouragingly. “I really like—your arm, Mr. Bucky. It’s—it’s really cool.”

“Oh.” It’s the only thing Bucky manages to say. He looks to the side at his metal arm, sprawled across the back of the bench. Slowly, he lifts it up and rests it on his knee. “I—Thank you. My friend in Wakanda made it for me.”

“That’s so cool! Can I… Can I touch it?”

This too takes Bucky aback for a moment. Even adults aren’t really eager to touch his metal arm. It probably has something to do with the fact that they’re afraid of having their bones crushed or something. But he nods and the boy’s whole face lights up. He slowly reaches and takes Bucky’s hand in both his little palms and inspects the black metal closely. The gold parts glisten in the sun as the boy slowly twists Bucky’s hand from side to side.

“Whoa!” the boy says under his breath, watching the plates move with a quiet whirl. “This is the best thing ever!”

The only thing Bucky can do is to watch, completely speechless. The thing is—half of the time Bucky still hates the arm. Not as much as the previous one but it still brings back bad memories. For the longest time he preferred to detach it completely and just covered his shoulder. Even though all the wars have ended, the arm is still seen as a weapon and it makes Bucky see it that way, too, no matter how many times Steve kisses it and holds it. But seeing the pure awe on the boy's face, the way he holds Bucky’s hand without even a hint of fear. It isn’t something Bucky’s used to.

He tries to answer all the questions the boy asks—and it turns out that he can be as inquiring as his big sister—and he hopes his voice is not as trembling as he feels.

After a few more minutes the sister—who is clearly the boss around here—announces that they have to go. The boy pouts slightly but agrees. When he lets go of Bucky’s hand, he smiles up at him.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Bucky. You’re my favourite superhero!”

And then he runs after his sister to the other side of the park. Bucky just sits there, his brows furrowed in confusion as he watches the kids go.

“Buck? You OK?” Steve asks, nudging Bucky lightly on the side.

“I’m—,” Bucky tries to answer but his voice breaks weirdly. He blinks a few times, trying to get a grip on himself.

“For what it’s worth,” Steve says and he leans closer, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “You’re my favourite superhero, too.”

“Fuck off,” Bucky laughs wetly, half-heartedly trying to push Steve away.

And Bucky has never expected that after all the things he has experienced and done—both before the war and later—someone could still see a hero in him.

five word prompts

#stucky #stucky fic #pls feel free to send me more!#it was fun and i really hope you like it Helena :') ♥#this is what happens when someone asks me for a drabble lmao #prompts #hbalbat #ask #my stucky #my writings

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oopsitsstella · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found

Han Solo x Reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary: After being separated for over a year, Y/N finds Han Solo and Chewbacca on a rebel base on Hoth

Warnings: Some angst, mentions of death and injury.

Y/N had almost given up hope she’d ever see him again. In another world, she wouldn’t be Y/N L/N.

She’d be Y/N Solo.

But a smuggling venture gone wrong had left Han and Y/N separated, and now Y/N was working with the Rebellion.

‘Why can things never go our way!?’ Y/N exclaimed, backing up towards the exit.

‘That’s a very good question, sweetheart.’ Han called back, looking between the stormtroopers surrounding them.

Chewie let out a roar, and Y/N hummed in agreement. ‘Mhm, this is definitely not going to end well.’

‘Yeah, I got a bad feeling about this.’ Han said.

Suddenly an idea popped into Y/N’s mind. It was risky, but also the best shot they had. She raised her blaster, aiming it at the nearest stormtrooper, and hit him square in the face.

That caught the stormtroopers off guard, and the trio took the opportunity to run out, the troopers following close behind.

‘Go! Get to the Falcon!’ Y/N called to Han and Chewie, shooting at the stormtroopers behind her.

‘What? No! I’m not leaving you here!’ Han exclaimed.

‘Someone has to survive and finish the job, and if I’m not part of that, then so be it!’

‘I’m not about to loose you Y/N.’ Han said, looking at the h/c girl.

Y/N grabbed Han by the collar of his jacket, and pulled him down to her level, pressing her lips to his in a fleeting kiss.

‘Go. I’ll hold them off, you get out of here.’ She said with a stern tone of voice and Han eventually, reluctantly conceded.

Aside from a blaster shot to her arm, she had gone out unharmed.

And she had tried to stay true to her word. She searched for Han and Chewie for months, over a year, before she gave up on searching. She had traveled from one part of the galaxy to the other, and hadn’t found them. That’s when she joined the Rebellion.

She had become a mechanic on a Rebellion Base on an outer rim planet, and she was a good one, after having stayed on the Millenium Falcon for so long.

It hadn’t been too long since the Death Star had been destroyed, and now Y/N had gotten duty on another rebel base, on the ice planet Hoth. And later the same day Y/N had arrived, she walked into the flight hangar, and spotted an all too familiar Corellian YT-series freighter.

The Millenium Falcon had barely changed since she last saw her, even thought it had been years. She still looked in need of a few repairs. Or a lot. But Y/N just wondered how much the people residing inside had changed.

She wasn’t sure if it was fear, or something else, but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to walk closer. Was she afraid to confront her past, and the man she loved? Maybe.

So instead of walking towards the ship and trying to find Han or Chewie, she turned around and left. However she hadn’t gotten far until a roar sounded from behind her, addressing her. When she turned around, she was met with the face of a tall, brown, furry creature. A Wookie. Chewbacca.

‘Hi Chewie.’ Y/N couldn’t help but smile seeing the familiar face, and Chewie quickly walked towards her, wrapping her in a hug.

‘I missed you too, Chewie.’ Y/N laughed, hugging him back. ‘Yes I know I’ve been gone for a long time.’ She said at Chewie’s roar.

‘I tried to find you! I looked for you for over a year, and I couldn’t find you.’ She explained, and Chewie roared at her again.

‘Why do you think I left the hangar?’ She questioned him. ‘I’m scared.’

Chewbacca rumbled in Shyriiwook, saying Han had barely stopped talking about her since they got separated, and Y/N sighed.

‘I know.’ Y/N sighed. ‘And yes, of course I still love him.‘

Y/N glanced down at the ring that was hanging on a chain around her neck. It was the ring Han had proposed to her with, it was (gold/silver) with a f/c stone sitting in the middle. She had stopped wearing it on her hand, not wanting to loose it in some ships mechanics, but she always wore it around her neck.

‘So I guess I don’t have an excuse huh?’ Y/N said, looking up at Chewie again. He roared in agreement, and Y/N heaved a sigh, before walking back into the hangar, Chewie following.

She walked up the ramp to the Falcon, and spun in a circle once she was inside, feeling memories flood through her. She and Chewie walked into the main area of the ship, and Chewbacca roared for Han to get down there.

‘Alright, alright, I’m coming!’ Han’s voice called, and Chewie gave a sound of encouragement to Y/N before he left the ship. Soon after Han came into view, and he froze mid step.

‘Y/N?’

‘Hey, hot-shot.’ Y/N said, a smile growing on her face.

Han crossed the room, coming to a stop just in front of Y/N, his eyes flicking across her face.

‘I thought you were dead.’ He said.

‘I almost thought you were too.’ Y/N replied. ‘I looked for you all over the galaxy, for over a year. And I couldn’t find even a trace of you.’

‘You can blame bounty hunters for that.’ Han said. ‘Smuggling isn’t exactly the safest thing.’

‘You think I don’t know that?’ Y/N asked. ‘It’s thanks to that we lost each other.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘So am I.’

Y/N then then stood up on her tiptoes, connecting their lips. Han’s arms wound around Y/N’s waist, while she wrapped her arms around Han’s neck.

Y/N hadn’t realized she had missed Han so much, but now, memories flooded her mind, from the years she had spent with Han, the countless adventures they had been on together.

‘You kept the ring.’ Han observed once they separated.

‘Of course I did.’ Y/N replied, a slight smirk on her face. ‘You know me, I was too stubborn to give up hope that we wouldn’t see each other again.’

#han solo imagine #han solo x reader #star wars imagine #star wars x reader

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squishneedsahero · 3 years

Text

Sour Lemonade

It’s Who I Am Part 3

Word Count: 2320

How would The Falcon and The Winter Soldier have played out if you, the younger daughter of Howard Stark got involved? You had been kidnapped by HYDRA at a young age, your mind taken from you as they forced you to work towards creating new weapons for them and when HYDRA had fallen you had gotten free with your scattered memories for you to slowly piece together.

After you all had left the prison where Zemo was being held, you and Sam unintentionally follow Bucky into this garage with a ton of old fancy cars in it. It is at this time that Sam turns to him and asks, "wait- where are we?"

Bucky avoids the question by bringing up Zemo once again, "we need to get Zemo out, he's our best chance to figure-"

"We aren't breaking Zemo out of prison." Sam responds bluntly.

There is a split second pause and then Bucky begins, "can I give you a hypothetical? Let me run you through a hypothetical." From there he runs the both of you through this scenario of how easy it would be to break Zemo out, with the ease he goes through this scenario you're pretty sure he has already done this without asking you or Sam.

Your theory was proven correct mere moments later when Zemo walks in and removes his hat. Sam and Bucky begin to argue from there and Zemo asks, "if I could-"

"NO!" Sam and Bucky shout simultaneously.

Zemo quietly nods his head and says, "apologize" under his breath.

From there Bucky talks Sam into it and Sam decides to go along with it as Zemo is already out and he might as well keep an eye on things.

Once they finish talking you look at Bucky and just say, "this is stupid." Then you turn and look at Zemo for a moment before going back to looking at Bucky, "so, how are going to do this?"

"We will go to Madripoor." From there Bucky and Zemo run you and Sam through what the plan is going to be as far as it is that they know what to do.

Before either you or Sam has the chance to ask how you'd get there, the four of you are already on your way to the airport. From there you all board a private jet, learn that Zemo is a Barron and has a butler.

It is once you all are in your seats that Zemo actually turns to you. "Y/n Stark? How unexpected... you still struggling with your memory?"

You look at him, then look at Sam and Bucky, before deciding to ignore him and the fact that he is trying to provoke you. From there he moves on to instead harass Bucky about the names he has in his journal, which Bucky chokes him over before taking his notebook back. This starts an entire conversation on Marvin Gaye and how he is one of the greatest musical artists of all time.

It takes a good few hours of flying to get to Madripoor, during this time Zemo tries another couple times to get you to talk to him... but he's careful since both Sam and Bucky are there and will do who knows what to him if he messes with you. He finally stops when you tell him to, "either stop being a coward and get out whatever is on his mind or to fuck off." He knew quite a lot about you, that much was obvious, but that was why you had gone to him, because he knows about HYDRA. Despite knowing a lot about you, your attitude towards him seemed to surprise him quite a bit. You took note of this, knowing he was prodding and probing to see how it is you would react, knowing that it couldn't mean anything good for you if he was interested in you.

You all leave the plane, Sam getting a nice suit to wear and they somehow talk you into the fact that to pull this off you'll need to wear a dress. You weren't necessarily happy about the idea, dresses, especially more revealing dresses were not your thing, as you preferred to keep to yourself and stay covered nearly from head to toe, to the point that the idea of a morph suit had crossed your mind more than once. When you stepped off the plane in your heels and dress you're thankful that at least it's dark and that it will make the many scars that covered your body less obvious. Sure, your scars from your time with HYDRA might not be as noticeable as a prosthetic arm but they were deep and hadn't healed well, leaving them obvious against the rest of your skin.

"I look like a pimp," Sam comments as the four of you walk.

"Only an American would think a well dressed black man looks like a pimp," Zemo says then once again explains who it is that Sam is supposed to be pretending to be. Then Zemo was himself, and Bucky pretending to once again be the Winter Soldier. Then you. You had been given what seemed to be the only obvious role for a woman, at least when it came to men and sleazy places like Madripoor, you got to be the stupid girl hanging on the Smiling Tiger's arm. At least it's just Sam you tell yourself, not Zemo and definitely not Bucky, not that you had anything against Bucky but due to him and you having some shared time with HYDRA you weren't really comfortable with him. Probably because he would have been the one they sent to take you and fake your death, the reason you'd had such a panic attack at the feeling of his cold metal hand over your mouth back in that warehouse.

The four of you get out of the car, and your act begins. Your arm naturally links with Sam's as you walk into the bar together, your grip is a bit tight and Sam notices but he knows you've been through a lot even if you haven't a clue what exactly it is that happened to you. He gives your hand a slight, reassuring, squeeze, you look at him and offer a slight smile, squeezing his hand in return before loosening the death grip you had on him.

Zemo knows exactly where it is he is heading, going right up to the bartender and asks to see Selby. The man behind the bar somewhat ignores Zemo to instead as Sam if he wanted his usual. Sam only nods, not wanting to use his voice and risk revealing that he had an American accent. You watch in disgust as the man dissects a snake right there on the counter and adds something from its innards into the shot glass before handing it to Sam.

"Ah, Smiling Tiger, your favorite."

"Yep," Sam says, barely getting the word out, but he pushes through and takes the shot.

All you can do to help him is offer another gentle squeeze to his hand. You hadn't let go of his hand since you had entered the place and something about it seemed to be helping you stay calm despite the crowd and the volume of the place.

Zemo asks once again about Selby, then as some guy is about to jump him he says, "Soldier, attack," of course it is said in Russian but you understand it.

It is with ease that Bucky flips that invisible switch, turning on the Winter Soldier and quickly downing the man before being told to stop. In those few seconds you heart reaches your throat and you feel your knees begin to buckle under your weight. Sam feels you begin to shake next to him and puts an arm around your waist to steady you. Surprisingly this helps pull you back into the moment. Your legs still feel weak but you lean your head on Sam's shoulder and try to ground yourself, you don't even think about it as your arm finds its way to go around his shoulders. By the time the fight is over with you truly are hanging on Sam's arm like the eye candy part you're supposed to be playing.

You don't think too much about it, focusing more on the current threats than the one thing making you feel safe. You're still holding onto him when you reach the room Selby is in and Zemo begins speaking to her. The both of you let Zemo do the talking, he offers Bucky and the code words to control the winter soldier in exchange for information on who is manufacturing the super soldier serum.

"Where can we find him?" Zemo asks, Selby about the scientist who is making the serum.

"Oh, Zemo, the bread crumbs you can have for free-" The woman gets interrupted by the ringing of Sam's phone. "Answer it. On speaker," she says, leaving no option for Sam but to answer his phone.

He tries to answer it and play it cool, you can hear the woman on the other end and she isn't making it easy on Sam to stay in disguise, obviously trying to talk about something important to the both of them. Next thing you know the conversation comes to an end as the woman yells at what is most likely some kids before saying, "sorry Sam I got to go."

The phone clicks as it hangs up, and Selby just asks, "Sam? Who is Sam?" The next moment there is a ton of shouting, a gunshot, and then for you things go dark.

When you come too you're lying on a couch in an extremely nice house. You can hear voices off in an adjacent room but you don't make any move to get up. Instead you lie there, trying to gather your thoughts in your scrambled mind. Something had happened. There was a familiar feeling of a cold sweat over your body and you feel nauseous. You try and focus on the conversation with Selby, where it had gone south and what had happened.

The memory was on the tip of your tongue but you couldn't get a solid grasp on it, you grab at it and keep digging. There had been yelling then the gunshot. Selby fell to the floor, dead. You take a deep breath as you remember letting go of Sam. You had let go of him and Zemo had shouted something in Russian. That was when things went dark. Zemo knew a key word. The words that HYDRA had used to control you.

You slowly sit up and look at your hands, they were covered in blood, you didn't know who but Zemo had activated something inside of you, causing you to kill someone. Anger swelled within you, Zemo had used you. He had broken into your mind with a single word and caused you to attack. Your heart feels as though it will explode as you stand up and without warning enter then next room.

You notice Sam and Bucky, but not Sharon. Your eyes lock onto Zemo and in less than a second you're across the room, your hand on his throat as you push him against the wall. "What do you know?" The anger in your voice is clear, an anger you couldn't remember seeing in yourself before.

"So now you'll speak to me?" Zemo taunts you and you slightly lessen the pressure on his neck only to be able to slam his head back into the wall behind him with more force.

"I said tell me what you know and what the hell you did to me back there." You can feel the eyes of Sam and Bucky on you, Sam is standing behind you now but you just hold out your other hand in warning. If he wants you to stand down it will mean knocking you out. You aren't taking no for an answer Zemo will give you answers.

As you stare Zemo down its as though he's staring down the barrel of a gun. He knows that he'd hit a spot with you by doing what he had, he wasn't scared of death, but your look did make him feel some fear. You weren't a killer. "You were the one HYDRA used to torture people. A brilliant mind they got completely under their control by only giving you parts of your memories as you needed them. You were their top scientist from the time they took you, you did terrible things, gave many people long and drawn out deaths when they wouldn't do what HYDRA wanted. You used innocent people as test subjects for your weapons, you killed just as many people as he did," he nods towards Bucky, "but at least he made their deaths quick and relatively painless."

You continue to stare him down, slowly you released your grip on his neck and stepped back. Turning to Sam you ask, "where's the bathroom," Sam looks at Sharon, causing you to notice her for the first time, and Sharon gives you directions to the bathroom.

You go on your own to the bathroom, taking your time with washing your hands and then slowly sliding to the floor and sitting with your back to the door. Zemo was right. He knew exactly who you were and could probably name every single terrible thing which you had done and who your victims were. You grip your forehead as you make yourself remember what Zemo had said in Russian, what word he had used to activate your kill switch.

"Лимонад." That was what he said. It was a simple word, a word that meant Lemonade. You begin to say the word out loud to yourself, starting in a whisper as you repeat again and again, "Лимонад. Лимонад. Лимонад."

You can feel your anxiety rise as you do this to yourself, but you can't make yourself stop once you've started. As you sit there, as you repeat that code word, glimpses of your past, your time at HYDRA and even some memories before that, when you were young and would try to play with Tony. You lost track of time as you sat there, bringing your own memories back, with the taste of sour sour lemonade on your lips.

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cruecifymesixx · 4 years

Text

Love and Leather /part Sixxty Seven/

Word Count: 8K

A/N: it has to get worse before it can get better. Two part chapter, almost done with the second part and I’ll have it out later this week. I’m pairing ‘Someone You Loved’ from the playlist

Warnings: Drugs, Language, Angst, Nikki being a fucking asshole

Taglist: @brideofdraculana , @xstarryeyesx , @aryssav , @miserablecunt @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol , @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless, @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @awesomealmostdopestudent, @romanticvengeance , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @rockersbox, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy, , @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch, @waywardprincess666, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer@electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe, @nassauartist @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @lauravic, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe@kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist @marvelismylifffe, @sleepyjunhong @lovemythsworld @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @unknownoblivion @siliwanoel @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor, @duffshairdye, @xpoisonousrosesx, @m0rnlngstar, @cranberrirolls, @oskea93, @love-struck-aries, @idumpyourgrass, @minxtruck, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @cruesixxlover1991, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl, @dogmom2014, @sinningsixx, @motleycrueprincess

*flashback, Nikki’s POV*

-August 1990-

I shook my head, groaning as I pushed through the outside doors and took a deep breath in as I exhaled. Tommy and Vince had dragged me out to a bar while we were home on break. The two left me as they went to sit with some girls who were all over them. I sat down near a fire pit and kicked my boots up on the concrete as I lit a cigarette. I much rather be at home with Van. But, she told me to go out and try to have fun.

I heard a click of pointy heels, “You mind if I sit here?” I looked over at a short woman wearing a little tight black dress as she had a polite smile on her face.

“Go ahead.” I motioned to the chair and scooted over a bit to give her more room to sit down. I exhaled cigarette smoke and listened to the music. Thank god it wasn’t Mötley.

“So, what are you doing in this dump?” The woman asked as I looked over and saw her stick a cigarette between her lips and light it.

I shrugged, “Just out with the guys. But they’re in there and I’m out here.” I took a sip of my water, “You?”

She had a cute little smile, “With some girlfriends of mine. I’m Brandi.” She stuck out her French manicured hand as I gently took it in mine and shook it.

”Nikki.” I let go of her hand, “Can I get you a drink?” I asked, pointing to her empty glass. She handed it over to me, “Malibu sunrise, you look familiar Nikki.”

I let out a laugh, “I get that a lot.” I stopped a passing by cocktail waitress and ordered Brandi her drink, “Can’t say I’ve seen you before. I’m sure I would’ve remembered you.” I looked away from her for a moment, taking a long sip. I shouldn’t of said that.

“Really? I’ve been in a few magazines and a few music videos.” She explained as I nodded.

“I don’t pay much attention to the pop culture shit unless it involves me or my band.”

Brandi laughed as she crossed her leg over her knee and pushed her hair out of her eyes, “The Cure? I’m a Playboy and was also in Aerosmith’s ‘Love In An Elevator’ music video.”

I chuckled, “Change the spelling a bit and you’ll get the Crüe.” I smiled, seeing the cocktail waitress come back over as I paid her and handed Brandi her drink, “Oh? Love Aerosmith but I must’ve missed the video, and probably the last few editions of Playboy.”

“Ah, Mötley Crüe. That’s right.” She chewed on her bottom lip, “You have a girl waiting at home for you? That’s such a shame.”

I swallowed the lump in the back of my throat, “Yeah, I have a fiancé at home, but I don’t think it’s a shame.”

“Oh? So you’re really serious then?” She questioned, I answered with a nod. I watched as she sighed through her purse before pulling out a small baggie of white powder. She raises an eyebrow, “You wanna?”

I looked at the bag she was extending out to me in her palm. I pushed her hand back to her, “I’m sober. Just got out of rehab a while ago.”

Brandi shrugged, “More for me. Rehab? How lame.” She spoke before dipping her nail into the bag and snorting it off.

I exhaled deeply and looked towards the fire, “I’d rather not be blitzed out of my mind. It’s better for everyone around me.”

Brandi wiped her nose, looking at me with her head tilted to the side, “So, you don’t do blow and you have fiancé? So interesting.” She leaned forward, her push up bra was doing its job clearly.

I can look, but I can’t touch.

My eyes glanced down at her tits for a moment before looking back at her, “And you pose for Playboy and also use the famed coke diet. Is that how all of you stay skinny?”

Brandi laughed, “You’re so funny, Nikki.” I chuckled a bit as she scooted closer to me. She reached out and touched my arm, her finger tracing the skull on my forearm, “I love tattoos. I have a few but you can only see them when I’m naked.”

I let out an amused grunt, pulling my arm away from her, “Is that what you say to every guy?”

She smiled, her doe like eyes staring into mine. They were almost golden with the help of the flames in front of us. They weren’t a natural gold like Vans. But damn, they were still pretty.

“No, that’s the first time I’ve ever used it. Did it work?” She questioned, her nails now cascading up and down my skin.

“Maybe if I wasn’t getting married soon and was single it would. Then I could see what’s under that dress of yours.” I licked my lips as her hand ran over my mine.

“Who says you can’t play around? I don’t see a ring on your finger.” She smiled, giving my hand a light squeeze.

I studied her. I’m Nikki Fucking Sixx. I can get anyone to drop to their knees for me. I’ve done horrible, disgusting, vile things to chicks all because they asked me too. Because I pulled them from the crowd and they said they’d do anything for me. Chicks would let me do whatever the hell I wanted, fucking them with a liquor bottle, passing them around to Tommy and Vince and then back to me. Shit, they still wanted to fuck me even when I hadn’t showered in weeks. All because my name is Nikki Sixx. And now what? I was about to end my reign of being the king of sleaze to settle down and have a forever with Vanity.

Maybe I could be that Nikki Sixx one last time for a final hoorah.

I ran my hand up her inner thigh, stopping at the bottom hem of the silky black dress, “True, I don’t have a ring.”

“Yo Sixx!” I quickly jumped out of the chair to face Tommy. He glanced at me, raising an eyebrow before shaking his head in disapproval, “Sorry to interrupt but Vince and Mick are ready to go.”

I cleared my throat, trying to shake off my nerves as I looked at Brandi, “Oh, uh okay. Well umm it was nice meeting you Brandi.”

“Brandi Brandt? The Playboy model? I’ve seen your stuff and you are fuckin hot!” Tommy chimed as Brandi giggled and nodded.

She stood up, placing her hands on my chest as she reached up and gave me a kiss on the cheek, “Hope to see you again rockstar.”

I smiled at her, watching her turn to leave and head back inside the bar. It wasn’t a bad sight.

“Ow! What the fuck?” I groaned, holding my stomach as a tommy had hit me pretty hard

“Uh? You need something to wipe up that drool? Maybe wipe that lipstick off too before you go home to your fiancé?” I glared at him when he emphasized fiancé.

I rolled my eyes, “I wasn’t going to do shit, T-bone.” I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand, seeing bubblegum pink lipstick on my skin.

“Hey man-“ Tommy puts his hands up in defense, “That’s your death wish and funeral.”

Anarchy greeted me at the front door as I walked in and locked it back up, “Hey sweet girl.” I patted the top of her head, dropping my car keys in the bowl on the entry way table. I walked up the stairs slowly, hearing the TV at a low volume coming from our bedroom. I walked in, seeing Vanity sleeping on top of the blankets in the middle of our bed with the side lamp still on.

I sighed, why was I fucking flirting with her? I shook off my thoughts before kicking off my boots and getting undressed. I crawled onto the bed, gently moving her over and carefully pulling the blankets down so I wouldn’t wake her. I got in bed beside her, throwing the blankets over us as I slung my arm over her waist and pulled her to me.

I felt so god damn fucking guilty, even if I technically didn’t do anything but technically I did do something if I felt guilty about it. I closed my eyes and kissed the back of Vanity’s head as I breathed in the smell of her coconut shampoo, her hair was still a tad bit damp.

Vanity turned in my arms as she nuzzled her face into my bare chest, “How was the bar?” She mumbled before I kissed the top of her head.

“Not fun with you here at home being sick. How are you feeling?” I questioned as I softly ran my hand up and down her back.

She sighed as I felt her lips press a gentle kiss to my chest, “I feel like I’m drunk and on a boat in the middle of the ocean and my head is throbbing. I also feel so damn tired but I’ve slept all day.”

I kissed her forehead, “Maybe you should go to the doctors, get some medicine or something.” I whispered as I felt Anarchy hop onto the bed and lay by my legs.

“I have an appointment next week. I’ll just go then. I’ll be fine. Just hold me.” Vanity whispered, as she tilted her head up and placed her lips on mine before laying back down.

*a few days later*

I stood in line at a pastry shop, waiting to get a box of frosted pink donuts with rainbow sprinkles Vanity had been complaining about wanting. So while she was out at a doctors appointment and getting her nails done afterwards I thought I’d pick some up on my way home. I had gotten out of the studio with the boys a little earlier then expected and had the whole day left. I thought maybe when Van gets home we could go to her favorite restaurant for dinner.

“I guess we meet again.” I heard a women’s voice plus fingers tapping at my shoulder. My eyes went wide as Brandi stood in front of me. My eyes going even wider at that diamond necklace laying between her tits.

“You found me pretty quick.” I chuckled as she stepped a bit closer to me to let someone pass her by.

“Maybe it’s meant to me.” Brandi smiled, “out running errands?” She questioned as I nodded, “Something like that, just picking up some donuts. What about you?”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she looked up at me, “Just finished up a photoshoot so I was just stopping to get some coffee.” I noticed her eyes wander over me, “With arms and legs like yours, I wouldn’t think you’d be getting junk food.”

I laughed, “No, my fiancé is having like weird period cravings or whatever. She’s been wanting them since the other night.”

Brandi nodded, “Did you maybe want to grab a bite to eat?” I stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell to say. I mean, I was hungry.

“I could grab a bite-“ I looked down at my watch, “She won’t be home for a while anyways.”

Brandi tilted her head to the side, “Are you inviting me over to your house?” I watched as her fingers played with necklace between her tits, “For someone who has a fiancé she sure isn’t around a lot.” Brandi laughed a bit, raising an eyebrow as i looked up at her.

“My girls been sick. And she’s dramatic so I’ve been stuck taking care of her.” I explained, for what reason I don’t know.

“Oh that’s too bad. Seems to me like having a fiancé has turned you soft.” Brandi retorted as I shook my head, rolling my eyes as I stepped up to the counter and ordered a half dozen donuts for Van.

I paid and turned back around, “Soft? Hardly. I’m not soft. Just being a good husband.” I explained to Brandi as she stepped out of line and followed me.

“A rockstar who went to rehab, got sober, sips on sparkling water with lemon wedges at bars he probably use to cause chaos at and gets his fiancé her period cravings food. That’s soft.” Brandi laughed, “You’re not a husband, not yet anyways.”

I glared at her, “So fucking what? Look, if you knew me you’d know I haven’t gone soft. I’m still that hard rocking guy.”

Brandi took a step towards me again, closing the gap between us as the breath in my throat got stuck, “Maybe you need a little fun. More excitement then a boring little fiancé.”

I chuckled, “And you’re suppose to be exciting? My girls the life of the party even when she’s sound asleep and snoring. Thanks for the offer, but I gotta go.”

Brandi reached for my wrist to stop me from leaving, “I’ve heard stories about you. I can’t believe they aren’t true.”

I stared her down, “All of them are true. Every single last one of them.”

“Then prove it.”

Ego was one hell of a killer.

*end flashback*

“...I’m sorry it’s late doll. Today was busy with lawyers and being at the studio. Ari’s sleeping, huh?” I swooned over Nikki’s voice as I sat on the fire escape smoking a cigarette and listening to the bustling streets below.

“Yeah she’s sleeping, we have a day trip planned with Clementine to go to the beach tomorrow. You should see how excited she is, she’s never been. I could hardly get her to lay down.”

He lightly chuckled, “Take pictures for me so I can see them when I get back to you two. Fuck, I miss you so much Vanity. You have no idea.”

I smiled and exhaled some smoke, “I miss you too, Sixx. Do you know how long you’ll be gone? Tommy will be out here in a few days..”

“She’s in the process of getting her stuff out of the house but we do that stupid photoshoot early next week. Huh, I saw Tommy today and he didn’t mention anything about going to visit Clementine.”

“Because you’re a dick to her and maybe he knows you’ll catch an attitude about him coming out here.” I explained to Nikki as he let out a light laugh.

“I’d only catch an attitude because he gets to see you and Ari, not because of Clem, I couldn’t give two fucks about her.” Nikki said in a matter of fact type tone.

“Well, I tried convincing you to stay. Would seeing my tits have worked?” I questioned Nikki, hearing him choke on whatever he was drinking.

“Seeing them, maybe playing with them. That might of worked but maybe I would’ve needed a little bit more than playing with your tits.”

I smirked, “oh yeah? Like what?”

Nikki’s voice had a gruff tone to it, “How about I just show you when I’m there? We’ll call it a mommy and daddy play date.”

I took another drag before putting the cigarette out, “Okay rockstar, I’ll be waiting for that but I should get to bed it’s late here...you’ll call tomorrow?”

“Oh right, time differences. Yes babe, I’ll call you tomorrow. I’ll try to call during the day so I can talk to Ari. Tell her I love her when she wakes up. I love you Van.”

“I love you too Nikki. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sweet dreams, princess.”

*a month later*

I was currently sitting in a small circle surrounded by tiny little humans for Arianna’s kindergarten show and tell activity.

“This is my frog, his name is Benny and he does really cool tricks.” I watched as Issac, one of Arianna’s class mates wound up a toy frog and it started hopping around in front of us.

“Baby, maybe you should’ve picked something else.” I quietly told Arianna as she was sitting right next to me.

“No! Daddy said I could.” She argued back as I sighed, nodding as I kissed the top of her head.

“Okay Issac, can you put that away for me now? It’s Arianna’s turn.” Miss Jackie, the kindergarten teacher spoke softly as Issac put away his toy.

“Arianna, would you like to show us what you brought?” I sighed and got off the floor before going to the back of the classroom. Now, I tried telling Arianna maybe you should bring a cool toy or one of the shells you got from the beach this past summer, but no that wasn’t good enough. So, like any other kid would, when one parent says no they go to the next. Nikki had called a week ago and Arianna told him all about show and tell and how she had to bring something cool , so she asked Nikki if she could have one of his basses. Nikki, being the person he is, had one of his basses sent to the house with express shipping.

I took the bass out of its case that was littered with stickers, very inappropriate stickers and brought it over to Arianna as she sat down in the chair with the kids in front of her.

“Well, uh Arianna...what did you bring?” Miss Jackie took off her glasses and stared at her with a confused smile on her face.

“This is my daddy’s guitar- I mean bass?” Arianna looked up at me as I nodded, “And he plays music and he has a lot of friends that take pictures with him and his brothers play with him too!”

All the kids oh’d and aw’d, “Can we play with it?” Riley, another classmate asked.

“Yes you can.” Arianna said but I laughed, “No, these aren’t toys. These are really important to Arianna’s dad and I don’t think he’d want little sticky fingers on it.”

“For the next show and tell I’m gonna bring my dad!” Arianna exclaimed as I tried forcing a smile, “And, and maybe he can play it! And maybe uncle Tommy can come too!”

“Arianna, inside voice.” I brought my finger to my lip as she giggled.

“My dad is in ‘fornia right now doing businesses but he’ll be back. He promised.” Arianna put our dirty laundry out in the air as I saw Miss Jackie raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, I think that’s enough show and tell.” I muttered as I took the bass in my hand and brought it back over to the case. I laid it inside before closing the lid, letting my hand glide over the spray painted ‘SIXX’.

Nikki called a week ago. And he hasn’t called back since.

*Two weeks later, Vanity’s POV*

‘It’s Nikki! Leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon’

“Hey Nikki. It’s Van, just calling to see how things are going. Haven’t heard from you in a while...I know you’re busy.” I chewed on my bottom lip as I glanced over at Ari, feeling tears form but I shook it off, “Uh anyways um, just call whenever you have a moment. We miss you.”

I hung up the phone, wiping my eyes with my sleeve, “No answer?” I turned around to see Clementine standing in the hallway.

“He’s just...he’s busy.” I explained, trying to make myself believe it as well.

“Too busy? Vanity, he hasn’t called in three weeks. Nobody is ever that busy to even pick up the damn phone and call to talk to his own daughter.” Clementine berated as I nodded.

“I know! I know! Nikki will call. He promised he’d call.” I told Clementine, her lips parted to say something but she opted to stay quiet.

“He promised he would call.” I repeated, exhaling deeply. I watched Arianna as she was laughing at the TV. Nikki has to call. He has to come back.

“Does Nikki keep his promises?”

I turned my attention to her, trying to come up with something to say but by my lack of response was a dead giveaway. Clementine sighed as she reached across and touched my arm, “He’ll call.”

*a few days later*

“Mommy, I’m gonna be the coolest kid when I go back to school Monday!” I smiled at Arianna as she was perched up on the counter and I sat below her, painting her toes and fingers a sparkly neon green.

“Baby, you’re already the coolest kid.” I assured as I tickled the bottom of her foot. I continued painting her nails, blowing on them to dry faster because she was getting antsy to move and run around.

“Such a shame about Kurt. I actually really liked Nirvana.” I glanced over, seeing Clementine reading a rock magazine and sipping on a cup of tea at the table.

“Me too, he was way to young but junk will do that to you. It just eats you up and tears you apart. It hard to get off of, I mean, I watched how hard it was for Sixx. He’d attempt to and then something would happen or he’d hang out with the wrong person and he’d slip again.” I explained to Clementine as she nodded and continued flipping through the pages.

“Oh what the hell.” I heard Clementine whisper as I turned back around.

“What? What is it? Something happen too Robert Smith?” I chuckled before I went back to finishing Arianna’s fingers, “Almost done babe. You’ve been good for me.” I smiled as she reached down and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Have you by chance talked to…uh you know who?” I exhaled deeply, “No, it’s just going ringing for days on end before going to voicemail.” I admitted defeatedly.

“I miss daddy.” I looked at Arianna, seeing the pout on her expression as I kissed her forehead, “I know angel. He’s just working and he’s really, really busy…daddy will call.” I tried coaxing her but she was having none of it.

“Why did daddy have to leave? I didn’t want him to go.” She asked as I stared at her, trying to come up with something to say.

“He had to go do some things with T-bone, you know for the music and what not. Daddy said he’d be back in a few weeks, okay?” I tried soothing her, seeing Arianna’s cheeks turn a bit red as tears eventually started coming uncontrollably.

“Why did we have to go!!” Arianna yelled, crying as she pushed my hand away from hers, “I want Daddy!” She cried harder as I scooped her up into my arms, her tiny ones wrapping around my neck tightly.

I kissed the side of her head, my eyes meeting Clementine as I tried calming Arianna down, “Ari…baby, please don’t cry. It’s okay.” I spoke softly, almost in a hush tone as I ran my hand up and down her back, “It’s okay princess. I know, I know you want daddy back here. I do too but we gotta be big girls and stay calm okay?”

I held her in my arms as she buried her face into my neck and shoulder, clinging to me for dear life, “It’s okay baby. I promise it’s gonna be okay.” I whispered into her ear as I felt her sniffles.

Clementine slid the magazine over to me as I glanced down at it. I felt a lump form the back of my throat followed by a ball of hot, blazing anger deep within my gut as I stared down at the nude photos of Nikki and Brandi. I flipped through the pages, seeing more pictures, “The love of my life…” I read a snippet of an article that was quoted from Nikki. I tried blinking back stinging tears as I adjusted Arianna on my hip so she wouldn’t be able to see.

“No wonder he hasn’t called.” I mumbled to Clementine as I looked at the pictures. Brandi was in his lap, white sheets barely hanging around their waists. Her hand was over his mouth and by the look in his eyes, he was smiling and seemed to be enjoying it. I closed the magazine and shook my head in frustrations, “He’s happy to be with her again.”

I exhaled deeply and hugged Arianna, “How about you take a nap and then we can go get some pizza later? Maybe go to blockbuster and get some movies?” I kissed the side of her cheek as she gave me a weak nod. I walked her to bedroom, pulling her blanket back and laying her down, “I love you. So much.”

I left her room, walking back to the table seeing Clementine glaring at the magazine as she read it. I snatched it from her hands as she stared at me. I flipped through the pages a second time seeing their stupid smiles and their stupid wedding rings and all their stupidity.

“Van…” Clementine treaded the waters carefully as I attempted to hold back tears, “Vanity…” I shook my head, stepping away from her as she tried reaching out for me.

“That fucking…” I cried, closing the magazine before ripping it in half and then ripping it again before I threw it in the trash.

“Why does he fucking do this to me?!” I yelped, holding my face in my hands as I sobbed. Clementine wrapped her arms around me as I fell into her embrace, “Why can’t I just be enough for him?!”

“He’s an asshole Vanity. He’s thinking with his dick and not with his head clearly.”

“He said it was gonna be a photoshoot! Not soft fucking porn!” I yelled, swiping a cup of juice off the counter before I crumbled against it, resting elbows on the tile as my hands held my head, “I’m a fucking idiot.” I muttered under my breath, staring down at the droplets that hit the counter.

“What am I suppose to do Clementine? He was here and now he’s not and he’s probably not coming back and Arianna’s crying over him. What do I do?” I cried, wiping my eyes as I sucked in a deep breath of air.

Clementine stayed quiet as her hand ran over my back, “He’ll come back. He’ll have hell to pay when he does but Nikki will come back. Even if myself or Tommy drag him out here. I’m so sorry Vanity.” I shook my head, chewing on my bottom lip as I leaned against her shoulder as I stared at his bass I had hung on the wall because Arianna wanted it displayed for everyone to see.

“I’m so sorry he does these things to you.”

*A week later, Tommy’s POV*

I rolled my eyes, watching Brandi march herself out the front doors, “Wanna beer?” I turned my attention to Nikki, the stupid arrogant grin on his face as he handed over a Heineken. I nodded, taking it from his grasp as I plopped down onto the uncomfortable couch and stared at Nikki as he sat down and kicked his feet up on the coffee table, “So have you called Vanity?”

He stared at me, mid sip as he put the bottle down, “Uh been busy man. She knows that, I’ll call tomorrow..”

Maybe it wasn’t any of my business to ask, but shit, when Clem calls me telling Vanity is crying over Nikki and Arianna is doing the same, it strikes a fucking chord within me.

I furrowed my eyebrows, “Really? Busy? Huh-“ I chuckled a bit before taking a sip, “Or are you just fucking playing strings on her heart again? I know you have a thing for doing that to Van.”

Nikki stared at me in disbelief, “T, it’s not like that at all. I’m-I’m not doing this shit for fun!”

An eyebrow arched, “Oh really? So Arianna is asking for you for no god damn reason when I call Clementine and she’s with them? And Vanity is on the verge of having, yet again, another broken heart over you? Tell me what it’s like then Nikki.”

“I-I don’t know man. There’s just a lot going on right now. Plus, Clementine is probably being dramatic about it all.” Nikki shook it off as he took a long sip off the bottle.

“A lot going on? Nikki! We aren’t fuckin making music! You have nothing going on! Nothing is stopping you from picking up the phone and talking to your daughter!”

Nikki shook his head, looking down into his bottle, “Tommy, I just can’t talk to Van right now, alright? Brandi would freak out and I don’t want to hear it.” He breathed deeply, running a hand through his hair to push it away, “Vanity is fine. She’s a tough girl and I’m sure she understands and is telling Arianna something she’d understand too.”

I was getting more and more pissed off, “And I thought you two were divorced?” I slammed the bottle down on the table, making Anarchy jump up in alert as she sat by Nikki’s feet, “Are you seriously doing this to her?! Again, Nikki?! And to fucking make promises to a kid?! They never forget shit, Sixx! What the fuck happened?! You were so happy to find her and you just toss her to the fucking side again?!”

In a hushed tone, “We pulled the papers…”

I closed my eyes, actual anger burning through me, “You did what?! Are you fucking stupid!?”

Nikki winced at my yelling, it was rare for me to get like this, “I-I don’t know!! She came at me with both blow and a blow job and I withdrew the divorce papers and now I’m fucking stuck! I don’t know how to get out of it! Trust me T-bone, I feel like shit! I listen to Vanity’s voicemails and I just hear how fucking hard she’s trying to keep it together but I don’t even know what to fuckin say to her, man! I don’t!”

“Oh, so sucking your cock and giving you something to plug your nose up just gets your forgiveness automatically.” I shook my head, “You’re a fucking piece of shit. Just like your father!”

I saw the guilt, pain and sadness rush over his face and through his body, “Tommy, I-“

“And you don’t know what to do? Fucking get those papers signed, Nikki! Jesus Christ, what’s the matter with you?!”

“Vanity is going to hate me-“ I quickly cut him off, “No! She’s going to hate you for doing this to Arianna! She’s been through this enough times with you to know how it goes! But That child doesn’t deserve this and you don’t deserve her if this is how you’re gonna be!”

“I’ll…I’ll call her.”

“I’m serious Nikki, Arianna did nothing to deserve this! Should I tell Vanity what’s actually going on? Cause I’ll be out there this weekend.”

His eyes widen, “No! Do not fucking tell her!!”

I smirked, “How about ‘Oh sorry Nikki’s dick and a few lines of blow are more important then you and Arianna! He still loves you, though’. I think she would really like that one.”

Nikki shook his head, “I do love her! Brandi’s just…shes fucking manipulative man. I don’t know how to get rid of her she’s like a fucking bug that won’t fuckin die after I stomp my boot on it.”

I smirked, staring him right in the eye, “I didn’t know someone could hold Nikki Sixx by the balls.”

Sixx narrowed his eyes at me, “Shut up Tommy! She doesn’t-“

“Bet you even had to ask her if I could come over? Does she keep them in her purse too?”

Nikki kicked over the coffee table, balling his fists as he stood in front of me, “Shut the fuck up! I’ll call! I’ll call and I will deal with it and explain what’s going on myself! Just back off Tommy!”

*a few days later, Vanity’s POV*

‘Vanity, just please, please listen to me. I know you’re probably upset and pissed off and you more than likely can’t stand the thought of me. I am so fucking sorry for disappearing on you and Arianna. Brandi and I…we…we attempted to work things out and I-‘

Message Deleted

I stared at the answering machine, chest heaving up and down, hot and heavy tears already falling down reddened cheeks. I quickly swiped everything off the side table, sending a glass vase, the answering machine and papers flying “Bastard.” I sobbed quietly, running my hands through my hair, “Fucking bastard.”

I stomped over to the fridge, slamming open the door as I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and downed as much as my throat would allow me to do so. I closed my eyes, clutching the bottle to my chest as I leaned my forehead against the upper door. How could Nikki do this to me? Why is it so fucking easy for him to hurt me? Am I just a fun little toy he likes to play with when he’s bored? Because that’s what I feel like.

I put the bottle away when the front door opened, Tommy and Clementine offered to take Arianna to the zoo today so I could have some alone time, “Mommy! Look!” I turned to see Arianna who was not only holding up a penguin plush toy but had a flamingo shaped balloon animal hat around her head.

“Wow! That’s so cool Ari! Did you have fun?” I picked her up when she came over for a hug, “Was she good for you two?”

Clementine nodded as she put her jacket and purse down, “Yes, but she did have a minor freak out over a lions roar, other than that she had a lot of fun. She even got to feed a giraffe.”

“Rockstar perks.” Tommy added with a light laugh.

Arianna walked over to the living room, putting her new stuffed animal away in her toy bin while turning on the tv, “What did you do today?” Clementine questioned as I looked at her.

“Oh uh…took the car to get cleaned, window shopped and got my nails done.” I explained, showing off the pastel pink paint job to Clem.

“Did daddy call?” I looked down at Arianna as her eyes were full of hope, “No baby. I’m sorry.”

I was waiting for her to start crying, as that has been the usual whenever I tell her no to that certain question, but she didn’t. Instead she stared at us for a few more seconds before going back to the couch and watching cartoons.

“Nikki called.” I whispered to both of them as their eyes went wide, “Really? That’s good! I told him he-“

“He left a voicemail with a half assed apology and telling me him and Brandi are trying to fix things so I deleted it and kinda exploded…” I motioned over to the mess I had created.

I shook my head, “Anyways, can you guys hang out with her for a little while longer?”

Clementine looked at Tommy who shrugged in return, “Uh sure? Are you going somewhere?”

I grabbed my jacket, “Oh uh yeah! I ordered pizza from Uh that one joint? Antonio’s? And I forgot they don’t deliver so I was gonna go pick it up.” I explained, slipping on my shoes as I grabbed my wallet and car keys.

“Oh, okay. Yeah! We’ll see you in a little bit! Bring back some of their double chocolate chip cookies! I love those!” Tommy chimed in as he kicked off his boots and went to sit by Arianna.

“Vanity?” I stopped at the door, glancing back at Clementine, “Yes?”

She eyed me, a wave of guilt running through me as she knew what I knew and that I really wasn’t going to get pizza.

“Be careful.”

*a little while later*

I walked through the sketchy corridor, ceiling light flickering above me as I could hear people yelling through their doors as well as loud music blaring through speakers. I moved closer to the wall when a group of girls walked past me, glaring.

I stopped in front of dark oak door, with the number 78 plated in gold above the peep hole. I knocked quietly before knocking a bit louder. The door swung open, a cloud of pot smoke hitting my face as a man, with three dots tattooed onto his cheek stood in front of me, “Jason home?”

He let off a toothy grin, as he opened up the door for me so I can come in. I stepped off to the side seeing a group of guys sitting on the couch with white powder and beer bottles sprawled over the glass coffee table.

“Jason! You got a pretty little thing that just walked in!” The man that opened the door yelled for him as I stood by the door, contemplating if I should just leave.

“Ah come hang out with us.” The guy wrapped his hand around my bicep and tugged me over to the couch with him. He forced me to sit down between him and another burly guy that had tattoos cascading down his arm, I even think one was a swastika that had flames around it.

My Hispanic ancestors would be rolling in their graves right about now.

“Want some?” He motioned to the white powder in front of me that either could of been coke, heroin or even meth for that matter.

“No thank you. I’ll wait for Jason.” Right on queue, a door opened up and a ditsy blonde came stumbling out with Jason right behind her. I felt my heart start racing as he handed her money and a tiny bag of drugs before she left.

His eyes met mine as I tried forcing a small smile, “How did I know you’d end up back here?” He chuckled as he walked over to the table I was sitting around, swiping some dust on his finger and licking it off.

“Did your precious little rockstar leave you again?” I watched as he tried keeping himself up and his eyes that were doing summersaults. By the bruises that ran down his arms, he had moved on to smack. Nikki’s eyes use to do the same little tricks.

I cleared my throat, “I just wanted some blow.” I digged into my wallet hearing the hushed oh fucks and the she’s loaded as I pulled out a hundred and tossed it on the table, “Enough so I don’t have to see you for a while.”

Jason reached down to grab the money, “Some blow?” He shook his head and tossed the money back to me, “How about we trade? Blow for blow?” He smirked as his eyes wandered down to the low cut shirt I was wearing, “She gives the best blow jobs boys, and she has a pretty tight pussy even after hanging out with rockstars in Los Angeles. I’m guessing that’s how she got so good.”

I felt a wave of uneasiness run through me as I felt the guy next to me wrap his hand around the base of my neck before trailing down. I quickly stood up and stared at him, “Just give me something Jason. I’m not in the mood for games. Please?”

“Wonder what else she’ll beg for..”

Jason chuckled, “Alright, come on.” He motioned for me as I followed him past the room he came out of and too his bedroom. He closed the door, locking it as I stepped into his room.

“Nice friends you have.” I rolled my eyes as I sat down on his bed.

“They aren’t my friends.” His back was towards me as he was fumbling with stuff on his dresser, “You just want blow? You sure you don’t want smack? It’s a better high. It’s fucking fantastic.”

He had a black satchel in his hand as he sat next to me, “Smack makes me sick.” I told him as he smiled at me.

“Smack makes everyone sick. But you get sick before you feel better. But a pretty nice girl like you doesn’t need that, it would ruin someone like you.” Jason explained as I watched him take out a vile of white powder, “Shoot it?”

I looked at him, nodding as he smirked. Jason dumped a little bit onto a spoon before melting it with a lighter. I watched the chemistry of it all, turning white into brown as it bubbled and became sticky. He grabbed a fresh needle, pulling it out of the package as he put the tip on it and sucked it up into the syringe.

“Here you go.” He handed it over to me as I took it and he wrapped a band around my bicep. I bit down on the elastic as I watched the needle meet skin before I pushed it into my arm, slowly seeing the coke mix with my own blood as I took the needle away from my body.

I let out a deep sigh as my high hit me like a freight train, “Thank you.” I mumbled through hooded eyes as I laid back on his bed. I heard him snort a few lines before he laid down next to me.

“I’m sorry for putting my hands on you. I’ve missed you a lot Vanity. Your friend almost crushed my windpipe, I was coughing up blood for a few days.” Jason explained, feeling his finger tips run over my abdomen and across my hips.

“I should go. Did you want money?” I asked him, pushing his hand away from me as I sat up, feeling lightheaded and the world spinning around me.

“Nah, you take this-“ he handed me a small bundle of blow as I took it from him, “-and just come back when you want to see me again.” Jason took a step closer and placed his lips on the side of my cheek.

“Right. Thanks.” I mumbled before i left his bedroom and apartment.

I stumbled out the doors, holding onto the railing as i started crying, “God damnit.” I clutched my arm around my stomach, feeling knots and knives twisting around inside.

I can do this little bit he gave me and be done with it. It’s all I need. I’ll get clean again after I finish this supply.

*A month later, Clementine’s POV*

I finished picking up the mess from the kindergarteners. Scrubbing paint off the tables and vacuuming up Crumbled pieces of crackers from the floors. I exhaled deeply, it was time for one big glass of wine. Maybe Vanity would like to get in on some wine and Chinese food maybe, apple juice for Ari of course. I grabbed my jacket and purse as I walked out of the classroom, locking up before going down the hallway.

I smiled to the janitors as they were sweeping the floors and washing the glass windows sticky little fingers have touched all day. I was almost at the front doors when I heard a child singing a rhyme. I walked around the corner as bright golden eyes and a messy bun and bow sat in front of me.

“Arianna? What are you doing here?” I put my stuff down as she was sitting criss cross with her backpack still on, “Where’s mom?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know.” I looked at my watch, seeing that it was almost four in the afternoon and school had gotten out over an hour ago.

I sat down next to her as I dug through purse and grabbed my phone, “She didn’t pick you up?” I flipped my phone open and saw that I had a new voicemail.

“No, the car is always over there and it isn’t.” She pointed by the tree that was in the no parking section, “Did she forget I was at school?” She giggles a bit as she dug through my purse and grabbed the candy she knows I always have in it.

“No! No, of course not angel. I’ll call her and see where she’s at.” I furrowed my eyebrows as I stared down at my phone and called her number, it went straight to her voicemail.

“Hey Van, uh…I’m sitting here with Ari wondering where you’re at. Are you okay? I’m gonna take her home and see if you’re there alright? Just give me a call back whenever you get this.”

I kissed the top of Arianna’s head as she stuffed candy into her mouth. I had a feeling the voicemail I had was from her so I clicked on it to let it play:

“Hello Clementine, my name is Jacqueline I’m a nurse calling from Silver Oak Medical Center. We had you on file as an emergency contact for Vanity Blackwood? Just give the hospital a call or come see her at your early convenience. Thank you.”

My eyes almost popped out of my head, “We gotta go babe. Come on.” I grabbed her backpack and my stuff as we walked out the door.

I felt tears burning as I helped Arianna into my car, thank god Vanity had bough another booster seat to keep in here, “We’re uh…we’re gonna go home and get some stuff and then you’re gonna come hang out with auntie for the weekend. How does that sound?” I asked her as she smiled.

“Yay!! Aunties house!” She cheered as I smiled at her and got into my car and drove to Their place.

When I unlocked the door with the spare key, Arianna went straight to playing with her toys in the living room. I went straight to the home phone as I shuffled papers around, finding a sticky note with Nikki’s name and a heart next to it with numbers jotted down. She’s going to hate me but oh well. I took a deep breath in as I dialed a phone number in and waited. After a few rings it picked up, “Hi is Nikki available?”

I heard the light strum of a bass in the background, “Ummm, whose calling?” The voice wasn’t a deep baritone, but a nasally female one.

“This is Clementine, Brandi. You know whose number this is.” I spat out, trying to keep my voice low so Arianna wouldn’t get nosey.

“Clementine? I don’t think we know a Clementine. I think you have the wrong number.” The line went dead as Brandi hung up on me.

“Oh that fucking bitch.” I whispered to myself, glaring at the phone as I punched in the same number again, it picked up after the first ring “Keep hanging up and I’ll leave a lovely little message.”

Brandi scoffed, “What the hell could you possibly want? What? She can’t get it through her thick skull that he doesn’t want her? So she makes you call? Pathetic.”

“No you dumb cunt, there’s a fucking emergency and I need to talk to Nikki.”

”Aww, so sad. Do you want me to get the violin out?” She cackled, “Look I’ll leave a message but he’s a bit busy at the moment.”

“Brandi! It’s about Arianna, it’s serious.” I lied, “I need to talk to him.”

“Tell Vanity to kiss her booboo and that will make things better. He’s busy. Stop calling.” Brandi hung up the phone before I could say anything else to her.

I put the phone down, running my hand over my face as I looked over the numbers, maybe the other one is his office?

I tapped my fingers against the wall, waiting for the receiver to click, “If you hang up, I swear you’ll never reproduce again.”

“Uh…who is this? I kinda like having my dick attached to me..”

I rolled my eyes at Nikki’s voice, “Clem, you fucking idiot. Since you’ve been ignoring your daughter and Van.”

“I haven’t- no! I’m not ignoring them! I tried returning her calls but she didn’t call me back, is she pissed at me?”

If Nikki was standing in front of me, I probably would’ve wrapped the chord around his neck, “Really?! What do you think? Just a few months of ignoring her is going to fly with her? I’m not Vanity, Don’t give me the excuses, Nikki.”

I heard Nikki groan, “What’s going on Clementine, why are you calling?”

“Nikki, Vanity is in the hospital. She doesn’t want you here but I’m not taking Arianna to the hospital because I don’t know what kind of condition Van is in. So I need you to be here for your daughter, or are you actually the asshole I think you are?”

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