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nightowlwriting · 3 years

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summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

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naokow · 3 years

Text

Get Free

summary: I want to get off, but I keep riding the ride, I never really noticed that I had to decide, to play someone's game, or live my own life.

warnings: angst, manipulating behaviour from eren, female reader (i’m sorry i didn’t make the reader genderless), cursing, smoking, drinking. let me know if i should add something else.

word count: 2.8k

A/N: so let me know if it sucked, pls, thank you. also, English is not my first language, so there can be mistakes pls tell me where my dumb ass was wrong

The hand on the waist was the final nail in the coffin for you.

How dare he dance with another girl. How dare he smile at her, how dare he ignore you and act like you weren't there, too.

"This is just pitiful," Marleen snorted, finishing half of her drink in a sip as she watched the same scene unfolding in the living room, those two uncaring of everyone else, like they were throwing it in your face.

You hummed, not really in the mood for taunts and half assed advices. "Which part?"

Marleen finished her drink and threw the cup over her shoulder, over the improvised bar the frat boys did last year with wood panels and boxes. It landed in the kitchen, someone yelling at the brunette as it nearly missed him.

"You. Honestly, for the last time, you need to—"

Frowning, you tensed and turned to glare at her, only to stop staring at the dance floor. "Honestly, Marleen, for the last time, I'm not fucking Jean to get over Eren."

She raised her hands in mock surrender, taking the half empty bottle of beer from your loosened grasp. "Doesn't have to be Jean, pal."

Groaning, throwing your head back dramatically, you couldn't find it in yourself to debate this subject, again.

Not that it mattered. Not like it was supposed to be a fun night at a frat house. Not like you made a fuss about it, dressed in your best leather pants and top, tattoos on display.

Not like you actually tried a bolder look with the cat like eyeliner and actually put on lip gloss, because you knew Eren liked those, said once your lips were pretty like that, coated with too much cherry glitter—

No, it didn't matter, not even as you sat there, feeling stupid as you pulled at your snake bites, wondering if you should get drunk or just go back to your dorm and complain to Annie.

But the blonde was at the party, too, somewhere among the crowd and probably sulking just as you, if you were to guess after seeing Armin with some junior chick an hour ago.

Marleen pushed herself away from the counter, losing her balance as she fell from the chair, but you saw it coming. Rolling your eyes, you caught her arm and steadied her.

Marleen grinned as you let her go, and seized your bicep, squeezing it three times, like a grandmother would with her grandchildren's cheeks.

"God, I love your muscles."

You loved them, too, but often found yourself wondering if Eren would pick you if you looked different, like the pretty, thin brunette wrapped around him on the dance floor.

God, how much can someone dance?

"Anyway," Marleen sighed, fake annoyance and all that, "Someone has to fuck Jean."

You snorted, "Poor you, volunteering like that for society."

She waved you off, pushing your now empty beer bottle into your chest as she left your side with her arms in the air, waving franatically to catch Jean's attention from his seat on the couch, where Connie was trying to explain something with his fingers.

Putting the bottle behind you on the counter, you tried to stop yourself from looking at him. What good did it do to—

He was gripping her waist, his large hands, clad in rings you got for his last birthday, covering her exposed skin. Her arms were in his hair as he bent to say something in her ear—

No, you noticed, he was kissing her neck and she was grinning sideways at Eren.

Scoffing, you tugged at one of the pierces in your nose. You should know better by now, Marleen once chided after cleaning your face off, ruined make up almost dried on your cheeks.

He knows, Annie scolded from beside you two in the small public bathroom after Eren ruined karaoke night and brought his new girlfriend.

He knows you love him and doesn't care. So do yourself a favour and move on.

Yeah, you watch Eren laugh at something the girl said, move on from the crush you had on him since you were sixteen and his hair was still short and he was crying over his parents' divorce.

Sure, move on and forget all the times you helped him, picked the pieces and put him first. Like he did, all those years going down the drain ever since the school year started and he barely acknowledged you.

"You look like shit," someone took the seat next to you, and you sighed before accepting the offered red solo cup.

"Feel like it, too," you looked at Levi snorting as he sipped on his beer. He looked like he just got out of bed.

Right, you scowled at yourself. You've been so busy preparing to let Eren walk all over you, that you forgot that Levi lived in the frat house that hosted the party.

Hange was talking Erwin's ears off, but he smiled and waved at you from where he stood close to the oven, once you looked over your shoulder to inspect who was there. Hange imitated his gesture without turning to see who, exactly, they were saluting.

Levi ignored them altogether, hair disheveled from his twitching fingers. He probably had a nap, you guessed, from the simple black shirt and jeans. Most likely got dragged down from his room by Zeke, or someone.

You knew him well enough, since he bumped into you almost one year ago, in the parking lot where you were smoking, asking for a lighter. Sure, he ignored your bad mood since you walked over to class when Eren forgot to pick you up.

It was just one time.

It wasn't until many months later that he picked a habit of ditching you and your plans together.

Levi was older by two years, and so were his friends, but they took you under their wing almost immediately.

They were protective of you, especially Hange, but no one came close to Levi anytime Eren made you cry or upset you with anything.

Like now, as he glared at the place where you already knew Eren was having fun with the girl. But you chose to look at Levi, chin in the palm of your hand.

Finally, he turned to take you in, his eyes catching onto the fact that you wore the rings and choker he got for you over the last year, then the many earrings Hange and Erwin got you anytime you wanted another pierce.

"Well, you sure look worse than me," you smirked, but Levi frowned at your attempt.

"He did it again?"

You couldn't find it in yourself to get mad at his words, "He just forgot, is all."

Levi snorted, "He should get checked for that Alzheimer he's been sporting for the last months."

You hit his arm, barely touching him, and huffed. "Play nice."

To his credit, he left it at that and let the noise of the party fall over you, both nursing your drinks.

You pondered going to Hange to ask if you could crash over the night with them, knowing Marleen was busy and Annie probably left by now.

"Want to dance?"

Well, then.

Your eyebrows almost reached your hairline as your eyes found Levi's, "Huh?"

He didn't shrug, or rolled his eyes, simply putting down his bottle and staring at you. You didn't want to look over at the dance floor, or be near that sexual tension, but—

But Levi was trying, and you knew how much he despised the parties, or having to interact, or, God Almighty forbid, dance.

And he was asking if you wanted to, because he knew you liked the song that was playing before you even realized what song it was or that you've been moving your head along with the beat for the last minute.

But Eren was th—

You jumped from the bar stool, "Sure."

You were taller than Levi by some good inches, but that didn't bother him. It never did, not even when you made fun of it at game nights or that one time at the carnival when he was the only one to join you in the big rides.

It didn't bother him, not even now, as you let him put his hands on your bare waist and slightly gaze up at you.

Hands around his neck, you let your chin rest near his ear, "You dance like someone's grandpa."

You could only assume he scoffed as he moved his arms around and pushed you closer to his chest.

"That's how you're grandpa danced?"

You shrugged and let him move your hips to the beat, fingers lost in his hair. "Wouldn't know. He died before I was out, kicking and screaming for the last time in my life at my mom."

Levi shook his head at your words, used to your humour and thankful you couldn't see his smile as he put his forehead on your bare shoulder.

You found yourself forgetting about Eren for a while as Levi danced with you and touched your skin, fingers grazing sometimes over your back or spine.

Then he was lost to your mind altogether when Levi caught your eye and you tried to make sense of the look he was giving you.

Marleen said something about his stares, when you couldn't see him watching.

You wet your lips, and he watched your tongue swipe over the pierces. "What, Ackerman?"

He shrugged, "You hate lip glosses."

It was barely there after all the drinks, but the thin, shiny coat with that stupid glitter was noticable enough for Levi to glare at.

And you did, you did hate lip glosses when Levi's arms were around you like that and his hands didn't shy away at the feeling of your muscles like Eren once did, because, damn, what chick wants those abs?

"'m stupid, I know," you mumbled, head titled close to his ear, but he turned to look at you, not even dancing anymore as his mouth was so damn close to yours.

"Want me to buy you another lipstick? What was it, again? R—"

You laughed, and Levi smelt the juice and whiskey on your breath. "Red, yeah. Still don't know how you found that shade, it was so nice, and I finished it too fast."

Levi smirked a little, "Told you, it's a secret. How else am I gonna surprise you?"

You felt him around you, too real, too much, it consumed you, steadily, as his eyes wondered around on your features.

"You surprise me anyway, Ackerman."

He wet his lips, then frowned, having to remind himself you weren't there for him, that you were in that position only because you were hurting again and because he was stupid and reckless and—

"Take it off, please?"

Levi searched your eyes, "What?"

"The gloss crap. Take it off, please."

Levi's breath hitched. "Are you sure?"

You looked down at his lips, "Help me a little, Levi."

Damn you. Damn you and your beautiful face, that irresistible body and that personality and the fact that it made him fall hard. So hard he couldn't deny you, even if it hurt him.

Because you were still hang on Eren, waiting and suffering, uselessly prolonging the inevitable everyone knew its end, but you.

But now you were in his arms and looking at him like he put the stars that formed those constellations you adored so much, on the sky.

Damn you, da—

He would never admit it hurt to press your lips to yours, to feel that cherry lip gloss first, then the punch as he probed at your mouth to get rid of that crap as you so nicely asked him to.

He hardly noticed how the pierces felt against his tongue, all lost to his mind as he gripped your hips tighter.

He would never admit it bothered him how your fingers played with his hair as you moved your face down and kissed him too roughly for his taste.

But it brought some satisfaction to glance over your shoulder at the shocked, angered Eren, his dance partner forgotten as he stared at his hands on your skin.

Good, it felt good. Even when Levi knew you would regret it the next day and go back to sulking over Eren.

But you brought his mouth back to yours and kept his face in your hands and made him ignore how much it hurt while he bruised your lips with too many kisses.

Levi tried to convince himself that things would finally be better, that it was the right move and he wasn't just a rebound. Maybe, if he kept telling himself that, he would believe it, too.

Even as you pecked his lips once, twice, stopped to gulp down breaths of air, like you just surfaced from water, like you've been drowning and finally, finally, you were free now.

But you stayed close, foreheads pressed against each other's while some stupid disco song started playing and Connie's excited yells surpassed even the stereo system.

You opened your mouth, and Levi wondered if he should be the first to say sorry.

"This is nice."

Flinching, you furrowed your brow and turned to look at Hange. They grinned, inches away from your face. Levi scoffed, and took one, two, fuck it—

He almost jumped away from you, putting space, almost making a statement. He glared at Hange.

"Is this our new secret handshake? I have to tell Erwin," they didn't wait, and you sighed as Hange bounced away to annoy Erwin for the millionth time that night.

You clicked your tongue, Hange forgot to tell you why they interrupted... Whatever that was with Levi, who was now rubbing his face in what you knew was annoyance.

Wetting your lips, and feeling no trace of cherry, made you feel worse than before.

"Right, I'm—"

Levi scoffed, hands back into his pockets as he already moved to walk past you. "Don't. I'm sure Jean would like to continue this."

You wondered why his words stung that much, because you were supposed to feel better after kissing someone. Because it was supposed to make you feel something else than sadness and constant self hatred.

Because—

Eren was making his way towards you, and Levi was already lost in the crowd before you could try to mend things. And say what, exactly? Nothing made sense anymore, your thoughts scattered all over the place because—

"What was that about?"

He was asking you, talking to you, and it didn't feel as good as you thought it would. Neither could bother to step aside, talk somewhere private, people still drinking and dancing around.

But why would Eren go somewhere private with you? It wasn't right. Nothing was feeling right as he glared down at you, at your swollen lips and flushed cheeks, that even the low light of the Christmas lights hanged around the walls couldn't hide.

"What?"

Sure, you were broken. Mind blank and fingers twitching to hold onto something.

Eren frowned, "What was that about, with Ackerman?"

You blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

It wasn't the apology you almost shot at Levi earlier. You sounded too confused and shocked, even for you.

But nothing made sense and Eren was now fuming.

"Listen—"

And you were all years for him, straining yourself to hear him over the music and the crowd that pushed your bodies closer. All because you were used to this, dropping all doubts and latching onto Eren. Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time he was that close to you, couldn’t comprehend the harsh reality.

He was there because it bothered him to lose his play toy, and you were too blind to see it, or anything else beside his eyes as he talked. Blinking, you allowed Eren to take you to the kitchen, something about another drink.

Levi was lost to you as Eren put his arm around your shoulders, barely keeping it there as he started talking about his classes and something his colleagues. You granted him your attention, all of it, never half hearted like he was with you most of the time.

Try all the time.

Because you were better, always so caring and welcoming for Eren to just pick and take whenever he pleased. But he was your friend, you cared too much about him to just let him go or ignore his needs. And he even left that pretty girl to talk with you. Surely, that must count as something.

“Where’s your lip gloss, hm?” Eren inquired, watching you over the rim of his cup as you blinked, head titled to actually think about what he asked. Then,

“Oh, sorry. must’ve worn off,” you struggled to articulate the words, barely thinking them through, feeling small, almost lost under his stare for a moment. Eren smiled down at you, almost cynically, as he put his cup down and took your hand in his.

“Want to dance?”

You nodded, faster than before, with—

It didn’t matter, not in that moment.

Assuring him it was alright, because every little thing was alright to you as long as it was Eren and his hand was taking yours, even if the hold was loose, barely there, like he was seconds away from letting it go.

#eren yaegar #levi ackerman #fanfic #reader #eren x you #eren x reader #levi x reader #hange zoë #erwin smith #reader insert #female reader #aot fanfiction #eren angst #levi angst

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simpingismylive · 3 years

Text

♡~ 2 perfect cards ~♡

Atem/Yami x f.reader

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( The angst in this one.. I cried while writing this ) 🥺

(Also make sure to read ‘Chapter 1. The Past’ first~ )

( Please enjoy!~) 💜

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~~~ 2. Princess no more ~~~

"Y/N!! Are you okay????", your brother ran towards you and hugged you tightly.

"Did this sick psycho hurt you??", terin grabbed your face and caressed your cheek. You still remember his face, scared to lose you, blaming himself that he couldn't protect you, tears in his eyes. It hurts you so much to see him like this.

You hugged him back and tears started to form in your eyes, "Thank you Terin~ I'm fine now. He didn't hurt me, just beeing obsessed with the marriage", you smiled through tears at him while looking up to him. He was so tall compared to you. "Let's get you out of here Y/N!", terin grabbed your hand and ran towards the wall behind us, which hid a secret door. We used this way always as children to sneek out. Just the memory made you smile. You used the big tree as a slide, until one day your uncle had the idea to build a real slide on it. You were sliding down the tree and stood now on the ground of your garden. Your brother brought you to his room and let you in, "Rest up. Take a bath and I'll make sure the guards will get you new clothes!", terin said and you nodded, already knowing your father would search for you soon and he would'nt suspect you here.

Laying in the bath you thought on everything that happened today. We already had evening and soon it would be night.

Today was the first day since months that you missed your mother this much. 'At least she doesn´t have to live as royalty anymore. I don't want this anymore either..', you looked down in the water at your reflection. Your eyes looked tired, empty, almost dead. Your crown was shining because of the sunset. Your neck, shoulders and arms were covered in scars. 'Royalty is nothing more than a curse!', your hand slapped in the water, right through your reflection. Then tears finally started to fall, running down your cheeks. 'Funny.. I thought I wouldn't have any tears left. I just hate myself so much.. why was I even born?', these thoughts crossed your mind often, ever since your mother passed away and your brother was taken away. Right now you just wished nothing more than to give up. You covered your face in your hands. 'Mom what am I suppose to do? I'm all alone..'. All of sudden you heard a voice, the voice of your mother and everything got dark,

"Y/N, don't give up yet! Out there is a reason why you were born! Someone will need your help one day. You're so strong and beautiful. One day you'll see this too!", the voice of your mother said.

"Mom? I-I don't know.. I really feel like I don't belong in this castle. I don't want to be a princess anymore..", you whispered, grabbing the crown on your head and throwing it in the water.

"My angel~ Out there is a way bigger world. Bigger than this castle. Maybe your place is out there? I'm sure you'll find the answer!~", your mother smiled at you before she disappeared. A few seconds nothing happened. Silence. Your tears stopped. The crown hit the ground. But than it clicked. Standing up, now standing naked in the bathroom, "That's it!! I'm just going to run away! Like I did when I was little! But this time I go and see other countrys, and forests, and seas and meet other people but.. without my title!", you grinned and looked at the ceiling. 'Thanks mom!', you smiled at your necklace and kissed it. 'The answer was so easy, right infront of my eyes. How did I not think about this sooner??', you started to laugh at your own blindness.

"Y/N, are you done because I need-", your brother came in and stopped in the middle of the door. "Uhm.. why are you laughing naked like that at the ceiling? Have you finally lost it now??", he laughed and threw a towel at you. You catched the towel and layed it around your body. Instead your threw one of his beloved ruber ducks at him and laughed too, "Me? Are you kidding? You are the one who has lost it a long time ago, mr. I still take a bath with my cute rubber ducks~". You both laughed and went out of the bathroom. It was just like no time had past. Your brother would seriously never change. You always bathed together as you were little, your favorite thing was the rubber ducks. So Terin let your father buy a lot of them, thinking is was for his son. But it was a present for you, from Terin, your lovely brother.

After you got dressed you sat down next to your brother. "Are you really sure you want to go Y/N? The world is so big and without your title people going to treat you horrible! Besides how do you want to go to another country anyway? It's not like you can just borrow a horse while running away..", terin asked worried. "I'm fine with that Terin! Rather that as beeing locked up here and married to someone who maybe kills me one day! And.. I already have a plan for it!", you smiled and hugged your brother tightly.

"You know Y/N.. if I become king one day I'll make sure to get you back and make you happy! You're going to be princess again! I promise!", than he started to cry while holding on to you. "Mh, thank you Terin. I'll always love you and think about you!", you patted his head.

As the both of you calmed down, you stood in his bathroom infront of a huge mirror. "What are you planning Y/N?", terin looked at the scissors in your hand and than at you. Your eyes were full of determination. "Say goodbye to Princess Y/N", you said as you cut your hair short, so it layed flat against the back of your neck. In the front you just had a cute, short pony left. "And welcome to slave Y/N", you grinned, looking at your poor clothes and your new look.

"S-slave?? WHAT?-", terin almost screamed and turned you around to softly hit your head.

"BY RA Y/N say that again and I will really punch you!", he growled.

"Ouch-", you pout while glaring at your brother

"But see this is my chance to go to another country without beeing seen! So I need your help Terin. Please??", you begged him with puppy eyes. Terin sighed, "Fine let's hear it.. It can't be that horrible!", he smiled at you. But that wasn't long lived as you told him with a proud grin your totally safe plan. "I WON'T SELL MY OWN SISTER!", terin screamed while glaring at you. You pouted, "But.. You're my only hope..". He growled and looked away, "I WON'T do it!".

Then you started to whine, "But..we are a dream-team? Don't you remember??", you looked sad. Terin looked your way and smiled, "We were and we always will be~". Your eyes started to light up, "Does that mean-", "NO! I won't sell you! We need another plan!", your brother hit your head softly once again. Fake yawning while waiting, "Well than please sherlock tell me~", you smirked.

Standing at the nil where all the slave-ships were waiting you were pushed forward and fell purposely down. "What a weak women you are! Heh, roality like me doesn't need you anymore! Come stand up! Faster!", terin said. He looked really like a evil prince now. He played his role so well! This caught the attention of the captain of the ship. He walked towards terin, "Another one to sell? Mhh.. we just wanted to hit sail but fine how much can you pay us?", he asked. I stood up, hands tied behind my back. Hopefully Terin wouldn't get mad and play is role well. "Come the next time you are here again to my castle, the king will take care of it! My name is Prince Terin after all!", he smirked and let the rope fall into the captains hands. 'Perfect~' you thought.

"Woah!! What a great day today is! Alright! Let's go than pretty lady!", he said while tuggging on the rope. You walked, looking tired. "T-H-A-N-K Y-O-U", you quietly mouthed to Terin. After you were on the ship you turned around one last time, he clearly had tears in his eyes.

"I'll just leave your here it's not like you would jump in the water with those ropes right?? Haha~", the captain laughed while walking away. The ship started moving and just like that you felt yourself smiling. You did it. You're on your way towards your real goal. You looked at your brohter and screamed, "Don't cry Terin! I'll be fine! Trust your sister and become a nice and respectfull king!", using your magic to make the rope disappear. Waving at your brother, before sitting down on the ship and looking in the night sky. The stars looked so beautiful.

Before you realised it you fell asleep. Dreaming about someone you had never seen before. It's like this person was calling you.

//Y/N's Dream//

A boy kneed on the ground, holding his face in his hands. Was he hiding? No.. he was crying. The boy was tembling on his whole body. All you could hear was his crying, his fast but shaky breath and his screaming. It broke your heart. Yet you didn't even know him. But you wanted to help this boy. Even if you didn't know how to do that.

The sand, which surrounded the both of you was flying around and the wind got stronger with every second. It was so cold and it seemed so dark around you two. The boy was now hitting his head on the ground while he cried even louder. Your heart felt as if it would shatter any minute. Your soul felt as it would get teared apart. It hurts so much. Your tears started to gently ran down your cheeks.

Without thinking twice, without any second thoughts, without caring what the boy would do and without knowing him, you walked to him and kneed down next to him, in the cold, dirty sand. You leaned forward and hugged him, gently caressing over his back, while your other hand protective held his wounded, slightly bleeding head. The boy didn't move for a second, the crying stopped. Bleeding, trembling hands hugged you back and pulled you closer, "P-Please don't leave me!", he said with a broken, sore voice. "I've already lost everyone, everything is gone. I'm all alone. I couldn't protect them..", the boy started to cry again and whimpered, tightly holding on to you.

A sad smile appeared on your face. You knew just to well how that felt. After the death of your mother you thought so too. Even now you felt so alone. Sometimes you felt so empty. You saw yourself in this boy.

A second later you took the boy's hands in yours and held them in between your bodys. "Please look at me! You're not alone! I'm sorry for your lost but I'm right here! You can see me right?", you whispered gently while looking at his face. The boy opened his tear filled eyes, just to look at you. He nodded while tearing up once more. His eyes were so pretty, red like the evening sun but empty and filled with so much pain.

"Don't worry! I'm not going anywhere! I won't disappear or die! I'm strong. We can make it out of here together! Okay?", you smiled while hugging the boy once more.

All of sudden the wind stopped and the sand got warm. The darkness was gone. A warm, bright light was shining over the both of you. It felt so healing. "Thank you Y/N! You're right, together we are unstoppable! It will always be us against the world.. like it was from the very start since we first met~", the boy held your hands with a soft smile and leaned his forhead on yours. His tears had faded and his eyes were shining with hope now. He looked so incredible stunning. A unique hairstyle, a face you never could forget and his aura was so interesting. But what catched your eye was the golden necklace he wore around his neck. 'Where did I see this before?', you couldn't remember. The boy leaned in to kiss you and you closed your eyes, his lips felt like home. As he pulled away a smirk covered his face, it made your heart jump. You blushed and smiled at him, but wondered how did he know your name? What is his name? Why can't you remember?

But before you could ask any of those question you woke up.

// Y/N Dream End //

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( Chapter 3 will come soon~ Thank you for reading! 💜 )

( I hope you enjoyed~ )

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aryareyes · 3 years

Text

***

Title : The way your eyes burn my soul

Pairing : Gruvia

Summary : Surprise!

Spotlights were shinning brightly, illuminating the dark interview hall, but what set the hall on fire was the audience's energetic ovation.

At the center of the hall, the interviewer, a beautiful young woman was smiling ear to ear, in front of her, her guests of the day, the best duo of the Pop world were seated, delighted matching grins on their faces.

- " Welcome to Pep Talk! Today's a very special day for us because we've our favorite Pop duo, Gray and Juvia with us!!"

The crowd whistled and cheered again as the two stars bowed their head respectfully to the crowd.

- " Thanks Mira, it's our pleasure to be here." The raven haired man answered as he flashed a grin to the public, making girls squeal.

- " Gray's right! We're very happy to be here!" The blue haired girl added, clad in her navy cocktail dress.

Again the crowd cheered but it was mostly male public this time. Mirajane smiled at the public and shifted her attention back to the duo.

- " So, Gray, Juvia, first of all, Congratulations for your last album, Icy Waves. It's a mega huge success! But most importantly, your fans—no actually, people who I know that don't like pop are into it after listening to that album. How do you feel about it?"

The female artist waited for the applause to end before talking,

" We are really glad to hear that." She chuckled contently, a glance at her partner before trailing, "Gray and I worked hard on it...and it was our first album together so..."

- " She worked extra hard for it," Her partner added as she shook her head playfully glaring at him. He smiled as he added, " It was her idea, so Icy waves wouldn't be possible without Juvs here." He winked at the girl, earing a smile in return.

- " He's exaggerating, its our team work."

- " Of course not." He rolled his eyes in response.

Mira chuckled at their bunter eyeing them carefully. Let's get my very wanted scoop.

- "I'm sure your fans love your teamwork. Now, let's talk about this particular song..." she started grinning slowly, earning some whistles and the name of the single from the crowd.

- " Looks like they want the same... The way your eyes burn my soul..." The interviewer paused glancing at the young stars who's cheeks were flushing slightly—at least Juvia's—Gray was doing a great job hiding it.

Mirajane Strauss cleared her throat slightly, getting their attention.

" Your voices...the feel in the song is..." she sighed softly looking for the right word, "...Magic...How did that magic happen?" She asked sincerely.

- " You said it, magic. I guess magic happens in music." Gray answered cleverly, shrugging.

- " I think that answer is too vague Gray," Mira chuckled imploring him to continue.

Gray's lips tugged up as he slid in a more comfortable position on the couch.

- " Recently at your album's success party, there were rumors of the two of you dating, so is it safe to assume the magic wouldn't have happened without that?"

Juvia smiled softly, adorable rosy hues adorning her cheeks.

- " Yes, I think it wouldn't have been magic if there's no feel in it."

Gray's smile turned into something genuine as his eyes were fondly looking over his girl beside him.

- "Are we lucky enough to get more details about it then?"

- " it, here means song right?" Gray lifted an eyebrow playfully earning some chuckles.

- " Definitely the song, but Juvia mentioned something about feel." Mira retorted with a mischievous smile, "So, I'd say the magic of the song—or love."

Gray scoffed. The audience cheered louder.

No wonder she was known for the title of the sweet devil.

Nonetheless, he responded with a natural expression. Years of experience of being the center of spotlights learned him to keep his cool in any kind of situation. He knew to give what the public wants to hear without revealing too much about his personal life neither.

- " We've known each other for a very long time. We'd each other's back through the thick and thin of our careers...so our friendship turned into something more, and I'm truly happy with the change."

The crowd went crazy and Juvia blushed slightly. He looked at her with a soft smile who smiled back brightly. God, she's so beautiful. He thought.

- " Heard that you guys! We were right! Our lovebirds here are dating!" Mira exclaimed in delight—she's a gruvia shipper after all.—" I guess it's time to say—excuse me for my language— Fucking Finally! "

People erupted more into cheers and whistles and chanted their favorite pop stars' ship name. Once the audience calmed down, the interviewer started talking again.

- " Well honestly, almost everyone were shipping you two together since forever and your chemistry is just so perfect. We felt it in the song." She stated as the stars thanked her and their fans.

- " So, now that you got your answers and I've my scoop, let's move to the fun part, shall we?" She continued cheerful with a glance at the public.

- " I don't feel it." Gray stated frowning and Juvia laughed at it.

- " The game is called 'tas-quest.' It's very simple. I'll ask you both questions concerning your partner which you've to answer honestly. Same goes with the tasks."

The two of the nodded and proceeded to play the game.

- " Okay. First question is for Juvia. Who's Gray's crush?"

- " Ouch. You sure want our couple to last?" The said guy retorted with fake mock. "I don't have any other crushes than my girlfriend, right here." He blow a kiss in her way but Juvia hit his arm, glaring at him playfully.

- " Babe. What?"

She huffed with a grin and turned to Mira, " He's a crush on his childhood friend."

- " What?! That was years ago! I was eight! And she's married now, thank you very much." He crossed his arms with a huff.

- " It's still a crush." She argued back.

- " She's a point." Mira smirked as Gray glared at her.

- " Your turn, who's the most jealous between the two of you?"

- " Obviously Juvia." The male singer laughed though his companion she gasped offended at him.

Mira bit back a chuckle as she looked at the young couple in amusement. Juvia pointed a finger at her boyfriend, "You got jealous of a fan on our last concert."

Gray crossed his arms with a roll of eyes. " He was too close."

- " Because he wanted to take a photo." She retorted with a scoff.

- " Yeah right. He invaded your private space and I protected you being the charming boyfriend I am." Gray muttered under his breath, not loud enough for the fans to here but Juvia and Mira did. The latter smirked while the female singer rolled her eyes but allowed a smile.

He was too cute when he was jealous.—She thought endearingly. Without a word she placed her hand on the his that was resting in the bare space between them and caressed it to smooth him. It worked as he gave her a look and she smiled. He turned his aside fighting back a smile of his own.

The reporter cleared her throat to her their attention, "Moving on to the next quest—oh it's actually a task for Juvia." She set her gaze on the girl who hastily pulled her hand away.

- " Yes ?"

- " You've to admit to Gray three of your secrets concerning him that you never would have told him." That earned chuckles and whispers.

- " Now it's interesting. I'm all ears Juvs. " He crossed his arms in curiosity, a playful gleam in his eyes.

- " Oh god, tell me I've a joker." She groaned in response—"Nope." Gray and Mira said at the same time.

Juvia pouted, "If I tell him my secret then it's no more a secret."

The sweet devil giggled, " That's basically the point of the game." The girl pouted more but turned her body slightly to her partner who was looking at her amused.

- " I've always found you cuter when you're sleeping...because you're messy, relaxed and actually a kid." She smiled tenderly at him as his cheeks tinted slightly. Their fans cooed. "...So I may have or may not have snapped pictures of you while sleeping." It was her turn to blush as he recovered from his flustered state to smirk at her handsomely.

- " Will we get some of them? " Mira interrupted.

- " Absolutely not." Juvia chuckled, "They're mine." The young girls sighed heavily but grinned at their favorite couple.

- " Next secret Wat'drop." Gray raised an eyebrow challengingly.

- " I stole one of your hoodies a few months ago and got to know recently that it's your favorite since you went through your room for it." She admitted with a cute frown.

- " Wait. My Detective Conan?" He asked in disbelief. His girlfriend bowed her head. " Guilty." She looked up at him again, " You're mad?" He rolled his eyes at her cuteness. How could he be mad at her when she was looking like that?

Instead of giving her a verbal answer, he ruffled her hair affectionately. Juvia smiled and promised herself to find him the real one he was looking for—the one he had that she stole (because she missed him too much), was not the one he wanted originally. The stocks wore off as it was a limited edition and he got himself the closest thing to the original. So, she would buy him the one originally he wanted.

- " You guys are really cute together!!" Their interviewer squealed as she looked at them and the crowd agreed with her.

They thanked her and Juvia proceeded to the last secret with a groan. "Arghh...I can't believe I'm confessing this to you on a live show."

Gray's eyebrow lifted, " That much secret?" He frowned concerned, " You don't need to tell it."

Juvia shook her head, " No, I should play fair." She mumbled as she stared around at her fans and smiled at them. She then squeezed Gray's hand and locking her eyes on him.

- " I had a crush on you from the very first day I met you." Gray's eyes widened slightly, surprise written all over his face. They forgot they got a loud audience as he blinked at her.

- " Really?"

- " Really." She said softly. He leaned to her side, and kept his voice low. The public didn't notice their murmurs as they've gone wild since Juvia's confession.

-" I don't understand...you didn't like me back then..." He frowned. Juvia gave him a look that meant 'later'.

Mira cheered and turned to them,

" Thanks for playing fair Juvia! You're awesome!"

- " Well, it's almost time. I've a last..." She looked at the small card in her hand before looking back at Gray. " task for Gray."

- " Tell us three things you like the most about Juvia." A gentle smile crossed his features as he glanced at his girl before facing Mira.

- " I think the list is long but I'll keep it short..." He held a hand up, enumerating. " She's one of the most talented and dedicated person I know. Whether it's job or studies or other common things, once she gets into it, she's determined to finish it and gives her hundred percent in everything she does. She's a hard worker and I honestly think that's the reason of her success."

Juvia was touched by his words as she stared at the man she loved talking about her so highly and proudly. She knew why she loved him so much.

- " She's a very good friend—she's this kind of friend who you would call if one day you committed a murder and don't know what to do about it. She'll help you bury the body and get you safely out of the mess." Juvia along with others laughed at his statement.— "Not that I'm planning to murder someone." He added and Juvia laughed more, leaning into him before giving him a look that meant, 'call me if you do'.

- " I guess what I'm trying to say is, she's trustworthy and be there for you through thick and thin. The kind of friend everyone needs to have in their life and I'm grateful to have her in mine." He got everyone's heart with that—if he didn't already had—as they stared at him in awe.

Gray turned to Juvia and locked his eyes with hers as he was about to say his last one. " What I love the most about you is how you look at me. You look at me as if I was your world and you love me so freely and so...easily. You accept my imperfections and love me for myself and not because I'm a star..." He held her hand and pulled her up with him as she started tearing up despite trying hard to not cry. Gray smiled lovingly at her—the one he only reserved for her and never showed in public. " Thanks for loving me, Wat'drop."

Without minding the public—because she saw only him—she brought a hand to his face and he leaned in her touch still giving her that loving look. She smiled, her heart and mind racing as her whole being was consumed of an overwhelming love for the man standing before her. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his in a sweet, soft kiss that sent the room shaking in fan's wild ovation.

When the lovebirds departed from each other with matching grins, hands still intertwined, Mira almost fainted but managed to end the show with hearts in her eyes.

The young couple was in the back of Gray's car as they were been driven back to their respective homes. Juvia was asleep on his shoulder as he kissed her head and stroked her hair tenderly. She's been working on her new album for the past week when they just finished their album and even before the interview, she was asked in her studio. He knew that she barely had enough for the past months. Gray was grateful to his production house to be on vacation but it's not the case for Juvia. She's to work for at least a week or two before her own holidays. Thankfully, he would be still on holidays by that time, hence he'd already planned their vacation—It was a surprise for her.

Half an hour later, Gray was carrying his girl to his bed in his penthouse slowly to not disturb her sleep. He lied her gently on it and proceeded to take her heals off and stripped himself, leaving only his boxers before climbing up in the bed with her. Juvia almost immediately clung to him like a koala, her head placed on his chest, a leg on his and an arm across his stomach. With a soft smile, he wrapped his arm around her and squeezed her to him.

- " Are you sure you don't want to get comfortable before sleeping?" He whispered after a moment. She only tightened her hold on him. Gray rolled his eyes and ran a hand in her hair as he stared down at her.

- " I know you're awake Juvs."

- " Why didn't you change my dress?" Her voice was muffled due to her position as she buried her face in his neck. "I don't mind it. It's just you."

Gray's heart skipped a beat and he rubbed circles on her bare arms.

- " I respect you too much to take advantage of you while you're sleeping." He murmured.

She raised her head up with a yawn but gave him a sleepy smile. "Gray, changing my dress to make me comfortable on bed is not taking advantage of me. You're my boyfriend so it's basically your right." He returned her smile, tucking a strand behind her ear to stare into her beautiful blue orbs.

His smile turned soon into a gorgeous smirk. Oh boy. Juvia flushed and shivered in his hold as his hand pulled the straps of her dress slowly. His eyes were intense on her as he murmured, "Why, I don't have a problem stripping you Wat'drop." His fingers caressed her bare shoulders burning her skin as they went by. "In fact, I prefer you naked around me." His lips trailed from her ears to cheeks down her jaw and Juvia placed her hands on his chest to push back slightly to stare down at him with an adorable pout.

- " You're such a pervert." She murmured. He pecked her lips in response before looking at her innocently. " I'm using my boyfriend rights here." She hit his chest lightly with a soft frown that turned into a smile, wiggled out of his hold ignoring his protests.

- "Close your eyes boyfriend."

- " Nope." Gray grinned back as he found the perfect position to stare at her, his eyes trailing to her bare neck and shoulders as she held the dress to her chest.

Juvia glared at him for a moment and he held her stare before she shrugged. Gray's eyes widened as she let her dress fall and pool around her feet and stood before him, clad only in her undies. He openly gaped at her too surprised to react as he took her in.

Gray knew Juvia was beautiful. He's known her for almost six years now and he'd seen her in daring dresses before.—it was part of the job. But right now, she was actually standing in his room, in his arm length, only in her navy matching underwear. She was a goddess. Before he could even process what was happening, her hand was unclasping her bra and Gray hurriedly turned to the other side, cursing as Juvia's laugh filled the room.

He was a goner if he saw her naked. He wouldn't be able to not jump her after so Gray shut his eyes tight and pushing away the amazing vision he just saw into the back of his mind as he waited for the little tease of his girlfriend to finish changing.

A moment later the bed shook and her arms slipped around his torso from behind as she placed her face on his cheek. He felt her bare legs slipping on his and he knew that she was wearing his t-shirt. He could handle it. He'd already seen her in his clothes and she's very—Stop right there, Gray.

- " Comm'o look at me..." She chuckled, "...I'm not naked—

- " Shut up." He groaned. She placed a few kisses on his cheek with a smile and after a moment, he finally turned on his back. She smiled brightly at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

- " I love you." She whispered and kissed his jaw before tucking her face under his chin.

- " I love you too Wat'drop." He kissed her head squeezing her to him.

- " You said sweet things at the interview." She murmured.

- " I was being honest." He said as he caught her looking at him lovingly—as if he was her world. "And I meant every word." She was his world.

She hummed happily and closed her eyes. His arms were her safe, warm cocon. Her place.

-" Speaking of interview..." she lifted her head up in question, crossed her arms on his chest and placed her face on it, staring at his face. " You said something about crush." His lips tugged up and her own tugged hp in a slow smile under his curios gaze.

Juvia cupped his face with a hand and smiled adoringly down at him. " I had a crush on you in high school. Remember our first meet?"

He recalled it with a fond smile, " You fell on me with books dropping on us. There's so much dust and we started sneezing and the old librarian was yelling at us like a mad woman."

The blue haired girl chuckled happily. " Well, I guess I didn't only fell on you that day but also fell for you."

Gray's eyes widened, " You loved me back then?" His heart thumping against his chest and he was sure that she could hear it, judging by her smile.

- " I thought it was a crush at first. You were so handsome and—"

- " Were?" He raised a teasing eyebrow. She rolled her eyes. "—are and I just liked looking at you..." her eyes locked with his in a playful gleam. " That is until I knew that you were my rival in everything. Literally everything!" She groaned dropping her head on his chest. "It was so annoying. You always beat me in one point or just behind me in a point. So annoying!"

Gray snorted rubbing her back. " I was not used to have a competitor and I hated to lose." She mumbled before lifting her head to face him.

" You hate to lose too." He chuckled but didn't say anything letting her rant about how annoying it was to be constantly on war with him in high school.

- " But I loved bickering with you. I couldn't spend a day without bantering with you. Really." She looked up at him stroking his cheek. "Then, there's this project in our second year and we were partnered up."

- " We ended it, won the first prize." He murmured as she nodded eagerly. " We became friends during that period..." He trailed tracing his finger on her cheek.

- " We were already kinda friends—frenemies, I guess. I've always admired you. You were the first person I've ever met with so much determination to win." She whispered eyes closed.

- " Hmm, I liked you too. But too arrogant to admit it." She snorted at his statement.

- " Then best friends. We were inseparable by the end of high school..." Gray hummed a nod. " You supported me before my uncle to pursue music career."

- " It's because you were incredibly talented Wat'drop." He said sincerely. She smiled as his finger traced the form of her lips.

- " That's an exaggeration but thank you for the compliment." She opened her eyes to look at him, " Want to know something? " He rose an eyebrow, silently asking her to continue. "You were my inspiration to fight for what I want, to fight for my dream." She kissed his forehead gently, " I won't be here without you, Gray Fullbuster."

- " And I won't without you. You were my only family when things fell apart." He retorted as he recalled his dark period—when Ur died.

" You were my strength and my very reason to not give up." Her eyes glistened as his welled up, and she kissed his eyelids, lingering when lips there. "If it wasn't for you, I'd be in streets."

- " You had all our friends with you. We all had your back."

- " True. I'm grateful for them but you, Juvia, you're special. You held me together." She smiled tearfully.

- " You are special to me too. Always have been." He mumbled an 'I know' and rolled them over earning a surprised squeal from her as her back hit the mattress.

She stared up at him bringing him closer with her arms around his neck.

- " When did you know you loved me?" He asked gazing into her eyes.

- " Last year, when you were in your world tour." His love brushed the hair of his nape as he leaned his forehead against hers. " It started with little things. Like when I spent weekends in our friend's place watching movies and how you were not there to lean on or throw my legs on..." He grinned.

- " Then, we'd go to get a coffee and you weren't there to know that I don't add milk in my coffee. Then, I started missing your voice. I'd call you and couldn't get you so I would listen to your voicemail to hear your voice."

He leaned back to look at her apologetic, his being bursting with love for her. " Sorry about that. You know we barely have our phones on world tour."

- " I know, don't worry about it. But I yearned to hear your voice." He kissed her nose and lips in response.

- " By the time you were back, I knew I was madly in love with you and I couldn't imagine a life without you."

He could feel the love in her voice as she said it.

- " You aren't kidding—you practically choked me to death when you hugged me once you saw me in the airport." He teased with a grin.

- " Yeah well, I just realized I loved my best friend for years and you weren't there for eight moths. I wanted to lock you in a room and never let you go away from me."

- " It's creepy." He grinned.

- " You wouldn't have minded would you—wait why're you grinning?"

His grin widened and she held his face up and forced his eyes to hers. A moment in silence passed between them. Both of their hearts beating in sync as the realization settled over.

Juvia worded it slowly.

- " You loved me." Her tone was barley a whisper as she remained their eye lock.

- " I've loved you for a long time Wat'drop. A very very longtime that I denied and fought back my feelings."

- " Why?"

- " Because I've just lost Ur. And I've lost everyone I've loved. You, losing you...was unimaginable... I was terrified that my feelings will take you away from me so I fought them back to keep you with me. "

- " You wouldn't have lost me if you made a move earlier, Gray." She took a breath, " I've always denied my feelings for you as a crush and admiration until I really couldn't lie to me anymore..."

Gray sighed in response, "We we're both idiots huh..." She groaned, " We wasted years! We could've been together while we were still in Uni!"

Gray looked up at her, " Hey, we're together now and we've always loved each other without knowing so we're good." He shrugged and pecked her lips as she still had her pout on.

- " I'm a bit worried you...we are no more high school kids. We are popular now, successful stars in industry. And we're dating." Her voice dropped as she looked at him, " Going in public, was it a bad idea?"

- " Do you regret it?" He brushed away her hair, and she shook her head. "I'm just concerned about what it could do to our relationship...as much as I love my fans, when it's comes to their favorite celebrity's love life, they'd go crazy. Especially when two celebrities are dating. They don't see the fact that under the mask of popularity, it's two normal people with feelings and we can't really fault them." Her eyes started stinging as she stared at him. "I can't lose you, Gray."

He quickly reassured her pulling her in a tight hug. " You won't lose me." He pulled back slightly despite her pressure to stay like that. He stared into her eyes, " Didn't you say that I'm the most determined person you know?" A nod, "Juvia, I fight for what I want. " He lifted her chin up. " I'll always fight for you." He swore.

- " Promise?" Her tone was frail, and he smiled at her. " Promise. And you promise to fight for me?"

- " Always."

She brought a hand between them, holding up her little finger, He wrapped his around it and smiled when he saw their tattoos matching as their fingers locked together. Juvia dragged him to the tattoo parlor past midnight to get it in their half drunken states a few weeks ago. It was on the day of the success party of their first album together, Icy Waves. So they got themselves tattooed a drop of water on his finger and a snowflake on hers.

There's no ice without water and no water without ice. And Gray would be damned if he didn't keep that promise.

**********************

💧❄️ Happy Belated Gruvia day! ❄️💧

#gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #gruvia #fairy tail #gruvia fanfiction #grey fullbuster #fairytail100yearquest

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Note

I may or may not have just sent the 3 word challenge in my real account instead of anon... I'm sorry. Please don't answer there. :)

When you post, post answering here please.

Again, much love,

📚🌻

Don't worry dear! Your identity shall remain a secret 🥰 Here's yet another fic with my Resident Evil OC: Gwen Winters (she’s an adult guys, don’t worry. However this is still an Older Man/Younger Woman relationship)

The words dear 📚🌻 Anon gave me in their previous ask were: Unruly, endurable and system. Please enjoy!

What happens in the gym....

Pairing: Chris Redfield x Female OC

Warnings: Swearing, Spoiler Free 😊

Genre: Angsty Romance

“Sure, throw me in the fire like you always do, Leon!“ Chris snaps, clenching his fists tightly as he glares at his best friend while the two stand in the dimly lit gym.

“Chris, you’re a BSAA captain, for the love of God! You should know better than to complain about something as little as this!“ Leon, while significantly calmer tone and demeanor-wise, is glaring daggers of his own.

“Why me, damn it?! And why her?!“ Chris is not done with his attempts to get out of the situation Leon’s trying to land him in and his partner’s honestly done with it.

“And why not?! You see the same potential I see, why would it be so hard to train her? She’s a quick learner, she’s disciplined when she wants to be and she’s already skilled to a certain degree. You’ve made soldiers out of total wimps before, why is she such a hassle to you?!“

“Because she’s disciplined when she wants to be and I guarantee she won’t want to when she’s around me. She’s unruly, selfish, arrogant and a Chris-phobe. I’m telling you, she hates me!“

It’s about time Leon’s had enough of this conversation. To be honest, he was done with it as soon as it started but he stayed, thinking he’d be able to change Chris’ mind but seeing as how this is a hopeless case, he’s just been wasting his time. “Does she? Or are you projecting your hate for her onto her?” Slinging his duffel bag containing his training gear over his shoulder, Leon finally makes that realization that these are ten minutes of his life he’ll never get back and storms out of the gym without another word.

Chris doesn’t attempt to stop him, in fact, he’s relieved he left. He sighs, silently hating himself for all the shit he said and how he meant none of it. It was all hard bullshit and he doesn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed that Leon didn’t realize. Either way, he’s been cleared of possible suspicion, even if training the newest BSAA rookie still remains as his task.

Gwen Winters, she’s such a fucking handful. One cannot tell if it’s because she’s angry with the world, angry with herself or just straight up picked up on the habits of the family that took her in when she was rescued from Raccoon City where she was held as an experiment hamster. A chemistry project basically. Ethan and Mia were recovering from the events back in Louisiana at the time, still probably are, that is not some shit you get over, so they thought having another person in the house would help them. And help Gwen did. See, Gwen isn’t a handful with everyone. In fact, she’s a real sweetheart and Chris knows it too, despite his bogus claims. He knows she’s got a heart and soul of gold and is built with the will of a BSAA soldier already. All she needs is a bit better fighting skills and she’s good to go.

He sees how she acts with everyone around him. She’s been quick to make friends with Jill and his sister Claire and she’s even got Leon’s liking and trust which is hella hard to get, especially after all the shit with Ada. She’s overall a super sweet and lovely girl, even with him from time to time. He’s seen her welcoming, friendly smiles whenever he stops by the Winters’ home. He’s heard her laugh at the jokes he rarely cracks.

Then why does she act like she hates him so often? And why does he claim he hates her?

Chris is snapped back to reality by the sound of rough impact. It’s a very distinct noise, one he places immediately: the sound of fists hitting a punching bag. It’s the middle of the night, almost midnight actually, and knowing how lazy the soldiers on his team are, he can only assume it’s either his sister or Jill, given that Leon just left. However, they’ve had people sneak in to train for free before, so it’d be for the best if he went to check who was releasing some pent up energy on the poor punching bag. Judging by the intensity of the punches being thrown, sounds like the person might be angry as well.

And they have every right to be. Because they are Gwen.

Chris’ face goes a bit red at the sight of the infuriated rookie giving the punching bag her all, punishing it the way she’d want to do to her superior she just heard call her all the names she hates being referred by.

“Winters I-“

“Unruly?“ Punch “Selfish?” Punch “Arrogant?” Punch

She stills herself, sighing and wiping the droplets of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, “You say all that and expect me not to be a Chris-phobe?” She lets out a bitter laugh, rolling her shoulders before continuing her wrath over the piece of equipment she’s threatening to destroy. She hasn’t spared him a single look yet, something he’s rather grateful for because the last thing he wants to see is whatever her gaze is hiding right now. “I’ll talk to Leon.” She says, her voice leveled and breathy, far from the pissed off tone she was just using. This calmness is a lot scarier though. “I’ll tell him I don’t want you to be my trainer. To be perfectly clear, I never wanted you to train me in the first place. I’m just not the type to complain, you know. I’m not picky. Beggers can’t be choosers. I take what I can get. And you were all I was offered, but...” she trails off, delivering a particularly hard punch, “It’s not gonna work. I may not be picky, but I know when to draw the line. I know when I deserve better.”

“Kid, you really have no idea what the case really is here.“ He attempts desperately, taunted by the thought of acting on his instincts and approaching her even if that means being the recipient of one of those hard punches.

“You know, I’m strong. I’m skilled. I can hold my own in a fight quite nicely. I’m endurable. I’m not afraid to work my ass off and sweat and pant like a dog after workouts. There’s not a line I wouldn’t cross, but you still choose to make me feel lesser than any soldier you’ve ever come across, that’s really lovely of you, Captain Redfield.“

“Winters, please...“

“It’s ok, I won’t tell Ethan and Mia. I’m sure they’ll send you to hell over it. I’m not petty like that.“

He’s had enough. He’s had enough of hearing that hurt tone in her voice. He’s done hearing these words she’s so certain are true but aren’t. He’s done lying to her and to himself. Before he can even think twice about it, he grabs her by the arms gently but firmly, turning her to face him despite her hostile attempts to free herself from his hold like a wild animal caught in a trap. He’s surprised when she relaxes, probably seeing that as a quicker way out of the situation rather than struggling though if she tried to free herself any longer he would’ve probably let her go.

“Fucking hell, Gwen, listen to me.“ He looks her dead in the eyes, catching onto the spark of shock created by his use of her first name. But he also sees something else, something that looks dangerously a lot like tears. He knows she won’t cry, especially not in front of him, but knowing that he’s the cause behind the welling of those crystal droplets in her always shiny, always smiling eyes breaks him. When she doesn’t look away nor protest, he continues, “I can’t be your captain. I can’t be your trainer. I can’t be any of that. I’m a strictly professional man, and it’d be highly unprofessional of me to take you in as my soldier.”

“But why?“ She’s fully aware she sounds like a whiny kid - exactly how she thinks he envisions her sometimes - but she couldn’t care less. She wants and needs answers. She knows she won’t be able to fall asleep or keep coming back to the training center if she doesn’t get them.

It’s blatantly clear this is far from easy for Chris. His first instinct is to look away, let go of her, run away like he always does - not that she’d let him do such a thing but still. He’s finds the words impossible to spit out yet he oh so desperately feels the need to get them out of his system. And so, he gathers all the strength within him and finally forces himself to say it.

“Because a captain isn’t supposed to look at a soldier the way I look at you.“

Sure, it sounds cryptic as heck but he has no doubt she’ll catch on. Gwen is a smart and sharp girl, among many other things. She confirms this when barely three seconds after he’s said it, he notices her eyes widening

“Sir, I-“

“Don’t.“ He says simply, a small, regretful smile playing across his lips as his hand slides down her arm to take hold of hers, “I just admitted my dirtiest secret to you and you are still gonna remind me how unprofessional I am by using my title, Kid?“

She purses her lips, the shock momentarily replaced by her signature mild glare, “Well, you just admitted your biggest secret to me and yet you still choose to call me ‘Kid’, huh?”

He chuckles, letting his other hand repeat the movements of the first, “Sorry, force of habit.” His thumbs brush against her knuckles briefly as his head falls, his gaze fixating on where their bodies are connected, “You know, I didn’t tell you this to get myself any pity or anything. I just wanted you to understand and....wanted to get it off my chest. Ethan will kill me if he finds out, won’t he?” He suddenly asks, regaining the courage to look up at her once again.

She giggles, “Who says he’s gonna find out?”

Chris bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head, “You’re right, there’s nothing really to find out abo-”

Gwen has never been a chatter nor can she tolerate when people beat around the bush so she’s quick to cut them off sometimes, no matter how rude that may seem or sound. However, just to clarify, her chosen method of cutting a person off isn’t always kissing them. Just saying - this is a special situation requiring special methods.

Taken aback by the sudden feeling of her lips on his, Chris’ eyes close automatically but not even a second later he responds to the kiss properly: wrapping his arms around Gwen’s waist as her hands travel up to cup his face. The kiss is short - too short if either of them is to be asked - but it’s worth all the words they didn’t say despite wanting to.

When they pull away, Gwen gives him a mischievous smile, “Now he could find out about that and then shit would go south. That’d suck, wouldn’t it Chris?“

He’s only ever heard her say his name twice, once in passing conversation with Claire and once earlier when she paraphrased his term ‘Chris-phobe’, both time spoken with some dose of dislike he now realizes was a cover-up all along. Turns out the two are a lot more alike than they initially thought. Regardless, hearing her say his name with fondness instead of bitterness makes his heart flutter, his body yearn to have her closer, his lips wanting to be in contact with hers again. But he’s a patient and self-controlled man, he’s nothing if not willpower sculpted in a human body, so he keeps his distance, waiting for her to pick the moves, waiting for her to make the decisions just like she’s his captain.

“Big time.“ He manages to say, voice coarse all of a sudden, barely able to leave his throat. “So it stays here, right?”

She giggles again, bringing her lips within an inch or two away from his, taunting him, threatening to break his self-control, “What happens in the gym stays in the gym, Redfield.”

Golden rules of discretion, ones he mustn’t break ever. Especially not when his captain - Captain Gwen Winters - holds so much power over him.

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pinkplantmakesstuff · 3 years

Text

[Sat opposite me is none other then The Commander himself. We are in my office; surrounded by stacks of notebooks and stationary, this is no battlefield and it's clear The Commander is currently out of his depth.

I will admit I was shocked when he agreed to an interview; the Commander is infamously secretive about his private life and personal affairs, and there are terrible rumours about his foul temper and monstrous appearance. Sat opposite me however, is a young, world-weary man]

Exclusive interview continues under the Read More...

Let's start with some introductory questions, can you introduce yourself?

[There's a pause before he finally speaks, he's surprisingly soft spoken.] My name's Alec. [He looks at me, and I have to prompt him for more] Oh I see. Uh people refer to me as the Commander, but I'm, not really? I don't, well I don't belong to the Pact anymore? But apparently the title stuck. And I just, end up helpin' with stuff still. [He shifts uncomfortably, and I need to know what brought him to my office today, why he's changed his mind before I continue with the more personal questions.]

So, Commander, what's changed? Why an interview now? After refusing to talk to any journalists for so long, what caused this change of heart?

[There's a another long pause.] Well, I mean...a couple of people told me it might be...good for appearances, to you know talk to one of you people, instead of just... lettin' everyone make stuff up about me all the time. [I assume he means the rumours that make up most of his public perception - like the idea his mouth is full of flesh-tearing fangs- which I can now confirm to be false. He may have pointed fangs but they are small, and he seems more interested in gnawing at his own lip.] Oh, uh and you can just call me Alec I guess.

Well thank you for choosing to speak to me Comman-Alec, now lets move onto the more personal stuff; what is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

[This seems to catch him off guard.] That, that is kind of, personal. [He grimaces and draws his arm tightly across his chest. "You said you didn't want people to make stuff up about you anymore, why don't you tell people so they know the real you."] I, well, ok. [He gives a defeated sigh but it seems I've swayed him around for now at least] Uh I'm a guy and I like other men. And, uh, there, might be someone. He's...[Alec mulls over his words for a minute, the "fearsome" fangs nibbling at his own mouth again] well he's like, there's a connection? It's hard to explain. ["You've just disappointed many potential suitors I suspect!" At this he lets out a surprised laugh, as if he can't believe what I said. "Is this potential someone your fearsome companion you've been rumoured to be spotted with? With fangs and horns even greater then your own?" At this he frowns, folding his arm in again.] He's not fearsome he's just, well he's great. [I've clearly struck a nerve so I choose to move on.]

Where and when were you born?

[Another one-armed shrug.] Dunno. Some small place. Don't remember it, don't care. And uh, I'm like, well I think I'm twenty? Something like that I don't know my birthday. I think it's in Winter. [At this it was mine turn to let out an incredulous laugh - which I admit was unprofessional of me. "I knew you seemed young but, only twenty? That's, you've done a lot for someone so young." There's another, lengthier pause.] S'pose so. [He doesn't comment on this further.]

Here's something you should know plenty about! What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

[He narrows his eyes at me, and then tilts his head thoughtfully. For a moment I thought he was going to demonstrate his magical capabilities I've heard so much about but then he simply shakes his head, a if deciding against it.] Magic. People don't like it. ["Yes I've heard the rumours of your powerful necromancy, as well as the tales of you being able to transform-" He cuts me off] I fight with magic. [Again I've struck another nerve, but I don't blame him. The rumour-mill has been particularly unkind to this young man, and it's no secret how many people view darker aspects of magic unfavourably.]

Lastly, for these introduction questions, are you happy?

[We sit there in silence for several minutes, and it seems he has no answer for me. I decide to move on quickly.]

Let's move onto the people in your life! What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

Uh, I don't. Well my family is, well she's a baker. We grew up together. And V-my... partner? [He catches himself, clearly trying to protect keep them anonymous.] I don't have any other family I guess. But, I'd do anythin' to keep them safe. [I don't push further but it's clear the Commander's family means as much to him as the next person. Something the rumours have lead people to believe is not the case.]

Have you ever ran away from home?

Yeah. When I was a kid. My friend - the baker. We left together. it was better after that. [Alec doesn't elaborate further to begin with, before realising he's only told me part of it.] From an orphanage I mean - it's the same ol' story about kids losin' family to the Risen then being taken into care when I was a baby. We hated it. We got old enough. We ran away.

You mentioned you have a partner, this mysterious V. Would you consider marriage or having children?

[Alec's demeanour almost doesn't change, but I've not spend years in journalism and not learnt how to read people. This question has clearly flustered the young commander.] Uhh, that's, kind of personal. I don't think about stuff like that? I, well it's just nice having someone around more now. [I was about to move on before he interrupts.] But, kids are good, if, I think I'd have liked too, if things had been different.

Let's talk about some juicy gossip! Do you secretly hate one of your friend?

What? [This clearly catches him off-guard, before letting out a bitter laugh.] No. I haven't got enough of those to secretly hate one of 'em. Plenty of people have made it clear how much they hate me though. I wouldn't be surprised if more of them secretly hated me too. [Another short pause, he shifts in his seat and I catch a peek at the small wings sticking out oh his back.] I'm too tired to hate any of them, especially secretly.

I see, so which friend knows everything about you?

[Almost subconsciously he touches his horns, they are short, stubby things.] I don't think, I have- maybe the two I mentioned earlier know the most. It's hard to talk about things. ["Hmm I'd picked up on that." At this he laughs, the minor tension that had started building up eased slightly.] Yeah I'm not great at words and stuff.

The next set of questions are asked my fans! Are you literate? Have you been to school?

Fans? [He shakes his head in disbelief before leaning back in his chair, hair obscuring his face slightly.] The orphanage wasn't much for teachin'. Next question. [I resist the urge to press further.]

The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

[He seems to spend some time thinking this one over before shaking his head.] Dunno. I guess I just assume most of the people I meet won't stick around long enough to be friends and...well I guess in a way they don't get to stick around I've....I've lost a lot of people. I guess that counts right? [He laughs slightly at this, but it isn't a happy one. Even the commander, who is oft described as cold is clearly affected by the ongoing tragedies he seeks to help stop.]

What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

I don't think I realised Sylvari could glow for like, ages. [He puts his hand up to his face slightly but he smiles slightly as he speaks, and it's only now I've realised he's without his infamous blind-fold. I mention this but he shrugs it off.] I still 'ave it. I just, don't want to wear it right now.

Do you have mental health or physical issues?

[He waves the stump of his missing arm, bandages still visible. Everyone's already heard about the fight against the fearsome Jungle dragon that cost him his arm, as well as the Marshall of The Pact .] Does this count? [He makes no mention of his mental health so I try to press further.] I'm fine.

What is your current main goal?

[Alec shakes his head, before shrugging again.] I'm not gonna talk about stuff like that, in case it puts people at risk, it's, well it's stuff that needs doing to help people.

Let's move onto something easy! Some choices! Drink or food?

Food. I like cooking. ["Really? The famous Commander, known and feared on the battlefield, enjoys being in a kitchen?" He smiles slightly and nods.] It's just nice y'know. I like making things a lot.

Cats or dogs?

Cats. Their senses are easier to see through and they can fit in smaller places. [Before I can ask what he means he continues.] I would like a pet one too I think.

Early bird or night owl?

I prefer getting up early, it means I have longer in the day to get stuff done.

Optimist or pessimist?

[He frowns again.] Don't know. I don't think things are ever gonna go very well. [He merely shrugs when I point out that he sounds like a pessimist.]

Sassy or sarcastic?

I wouldn't say I'm either to be honest. ["There have been reports from Queen Jenna's courts that you have been known to make the occasional sarcastic, scathing remark."] Well there are also reports I've got a huge dragon tail but that don't make it true either. [I don't point out that dry remark he made.]

You'll be pleased Alec, we are finally finishing up! Finally it's time for some "Have you evers". Lets start with have you ever been caught sneaking out?

Nope. I used to be unnoticeable, though, that's changed a...little. [He gestures to himself in what I am assuming is reference to his small wings and horns] Like I said earlier though, magic.

Broke a bone?

Nope not that either. ["Really? With your work on the field and from the battles I've heard, you've truly never broken a bone?] I guess that's just the one thing I got goin' for me I guess.

Received flowers?

I don't think so? Wait yeah maybe but they are from people I don't really know as thanks which is nice I guess- I give 'em to...my baker friend coz she likes to display them in her shop.

Ghosted someone?

[There's another pause, it seemed he'd been slowly getting used to speaking to me but this one has him quiet again.] Not....intentionally. Keepin' in contact is hard when you're constantly travelling. And writing is... not one of my greatest talents.

Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

Uhh to be honest I probably wouldn't realise it was a joke sometimes', and if I did and I don't get it then maybe they should have told a better joke. [He shrugs and I can't help but laugh at his honesty]

[There you have it readers, an EXCLUSIVE interview with the feared Commander himself. Nothing like the rumours who describe him as "The Beast", The Commander is just another war-weary fighter trying to do what's right.]

Thank you @the-mystic-dragon for tagging me this was so much fun to write! (Even if it took like, an hour, and I massively changed the format XD) This is written as if it's around mid to late lws3 and before PoF as well as in the au with Vasche! Vasche is @resonatingfern's wonderful character and Alec's "mysterious partner" in this. In terms of tagging, if ya wanna do one go ahead! Though I did change the format quite a bit oops XD

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #my writing #alec shadowdancer #gw2 writing

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fangirl-ramblings · 4 years

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Pairing: Arthur x gn!reader

Characters: Reader, Simon Pearson, Mary Linton, Arthur Morgan

Word count: 3306

Summary: You and Arthur have recently made your relationship official by moving into his tent...but is he really into you...or is he still holding onto his past?

Notes: SFW, Angst leading to fluff

After requesting several wonderful stories from one of my favourite writers and people, I was super honoured to have the chance to be able to write something for the super talented and lovely @littlestarofthewest - Merry Christmas from your secret santa 😘😘

Also a huge thank you to @horsegirl1h (who helped me plot this out) @verai-marcel (for wrangling in all my stupid grammatical mistakes) & @mileycyprus-hill who took a quick look over this and gave me a much better character note on how to improve Arthur's feelings in this story and give me a far better title I could ever think of myself. Thank you all 😘

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

The First Shall Be Forgotten

You slowly opened your eyes, only to find the cot next to you still empty. It was fairly late when you'd finally taken yourself off to bed last night, but you had found yourself unable to keep your eyes open as you'd sat around the scout fire. Your hope of Arthur riding back into camp and joining you in lying down for the night had turned into a wishful dream of waking up with his strong arms wrapped around you, but it turns out it was just that - merely a pleasant dream.

It was only a few months since you'd started dating, with most of that time spent being inseparable, but lately you noticed that Arthur was staying away from camp longer and longer. Yes - the events of Blackwater had changed the gang's luck and the likes of Dutch and Strauss kept giving Arthur more and more tasks to do, but you'd felt like that most of these jobs could be done well before nightfall. Surely Arthur wasn't avoiding you because he was bored of you already….could he?

You sat upright, shaking your head free of any more of those nasty thoughts, quickly making the decision that you should get dressed and help out around camp before Miss Grimshaw marched over to berate you for wasting so much time idling about.

There was a chill floating in the air this morning in camp and so you found yourself shivering as you looked around for your light jacket. Opening your shared trunk, you proceeded to pile a mixture of both yours and Arthur's clothes on to the cot in your quest to find your missing coat. Though you soon found yourself distracted as you lifted one of Arthur's shirts up, tutting to yourself as you saw just how worn and dirt stained they all were. You swore that that man would wear these offending items until they fell apart on him...and some were close to doing so, judging by how often they'd been patched up.

"Ah, there you are," Pearson's cheerful voice booming from behind you, making you jump out of your skin, "I need a helping hand gathering supplies in town and was wondering if you could come along with me for the ride"

"Me? Surely there's someone more capable about?" Although Valentine was only a short ride away, the idea of being Mr. Pearson's captive audience for that short length of time was not high on your list of priorities for the day.

"Well, I don't know if you noticed but we are stretched a little thin on the ground right now," his hands gesturing to the almost empty camp area in front of you, "Mr. Smith & Mr. Escuella are yet to return from Blackwater with young Sean and, as you well know, Mr. Morgan is still yet to return from wherever he has took himself off to. As for the girls..." you tried to stifle a chuckle as he trailed off to glance nervously over at where Tilly, Mary-Beth and Karen were currently sitting at their wagon, making sure they couldn't hear this conversation, "...I'd rather not ask them. Uncle told me of the trouble they got up to on their last visit into Valentine."

You couldn't help but burst out laughing at Pearson's fear of trying to keep three excited young women from creating chaos. "Sorry, sorry," you apologised, wiping your eyes as he looked at you with confusion, "Well...since you have no other options, I'll join you. I've been wanting to pick Arthur up a new shirt anyways." Spotting your jacket at the bottom of the truck, you quickly threw it on, leaving all the other clothes heaped on the bed, "Shall we go now then?"

"Goddamit, why does there have to be a train in the station?" you grumbled as Pearson pulled the horses to a stop at the crossing, which was blocked by one of the carriages belonging to the offending train. After being waylaid by the shop boy slowly loading the wagon with all the goods Pearson had chosen for camp - not that any of these ingredients would do much to improve his cooking, you cruelly thought to yourself - your head was starting to ache from listening to Pearson's constant tall tales. All you had wanted to do was get back to camp and sleep off your headache, but that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon, thanks to this stupid train.

"I know what you mean, I was hoping to get back and make a start on preparing supper," Pearson sighed before suddenly cheering up, "But, hey, at least it gives me more time to tell you about my time at sea. There was this other time..."

Internally, you found yourself groaning, trying to zone out the older man as he recounted yet another story, that this time seemed to involve him somehow, inexplicably fighting a walrus - single-handedly - to save his crew.

You glanced around, finding yourself admiring all the different horses hitched up around the station...until a familiar sight caught your eye.

"Hey isn't that Brutus?" you interrupted Pearson mid-sentence, gesturing towards the big, black Shire horse that Hosea had gifted Arthur a few weeks ago. Arthur had rarely named his horses after losing his beloved Boudicca in Blackwater and was more than content to just refer to this one as "Boy", but after overhearing Hosea called this giant a brute, you'd jokingly suggested the name Brutus, a name that had tickled Arthur and agreed it was the perfect name for this beast.

Put out a little by the fact you had rudely interrupted him just as the story was getting good, Pearson grudgingly glanced over to the direction in which you were pointing.

"Er, it does look like it. So anyway after I killed the Walrus with nothing but my bare hands…"

'So this is where you've gotten to Morgan,' you thought to yourself, once again not listening to Pearson's story. 'Here's hoping you're on your way home too.'

Smiling to yourself that your lover would hopefully be by your side once more, you absent-mindedly found yourself scanning the crowd of people that was starting to thin out as they slowly stepped onto the carriages...until you saw him standing with his back to you.

A smile started to creep over your face as you recognised Arthur's dirty blond hair, broad frame and filthy blue shirt. Just the fact you could see how dirty it was from this distance made you glad that you'd made the decision to buy him a new one now, as that one needed throwing out, never mind a good wash. Anybody would think that man spent most of his time rolling around in the mud than riding a horse around.

With his hands on his gun belt, he shifted his weight to one side and the smile on your face was replaced with a look of confusion as a young lady was revealed to be standing next to him, deep in an intimate conversation.

Unconsciously scowling at her, you were unable to shake the feeling that you've seen her somewhere before, but for the life of you, you couldn't quite place where.

You squinted your eyes to try and focus your vision on her delicate features before a feeling of rage bubbled up from your stomach as she kissed Arthur's cheek, in a way that suggested more than just friendship.

"And I'll tell you - I used that walrus meat to feed a crew of 50...and not one of them complained the way you and the rest of camp do about my cooking" Pearson waffled on down your ear, distracting you from your thoughts about this mysterious woman and how you wanted to jump down and throttle her. Instead you suddenly had the urge to wrap your hands around the cook's neck.

Turning to face him, you barked, "Maybe being at sea for weeks at end with no food makes people more appreciative of the slop you always manage to serve up - no matter the ingredients."

You instantly felt regret as the words left your mouth and you saw the hurt in the older man's eyes.

"Christ, I'm sorry Mr. Pearson. I didn’t mean to take it out on you..." You paused, thinking about telling him about what you just saw, but you doubted this old sea dog would give a damn about your love life and so explained "I just have a real bad headache and it's put me in a bad mood."

He nodded softly and turned away so you wouldn't see him wipe the sting of the tears from his eyes.

Feeling guilty from the hurt you just caused, you looked away to the source of your own pain, only to find Arthur had disappeared from the platform and the train was now pulling out the station. Had he gotten on board with his mystery woman? Gone off to start a new life with her and left you and the outlaw life behind him? These thoughts rattled around your head as Pearson told the horses to giddy up and the pair of you headed back to camp in an awkward silence.

Jumping down from the wagon, you helped Pearson unload the wagon - still with an uneasy tension in the air, before you tried to broker the peace between you both by offering to help prepare the next meal as a peace offering.

"No, it's quite okay," Pearson patted you shoulder to show there was no hard feelings, "You go sleep off that sore head of yours"

You nodded appreciatively, finding yourself thanking him and apologising once more as you picked up the wrapped parcel containing Arthur's new shirt, and headed back to your tent.

As you walked over, you rolled your eyes in annoyance at yourself as you caught sight of the mess you'd left behind this morning. Picking the mountain of clothes up, you threw them in straight at the trunk at the end of the cot, surprising yourself as you heard a loud clatter of something hitting the side of the chest and then dropping onto the floor.

Peering over, you saw that a few shirts and a pair of trousers had missed their target and were now scattered over the floor... alongside a wooden photoframe, laying face down on the ground, that definitely wasn't there before.

Picking it up, you recognised the image of a younger, but still very handsome version of Arthur standing on the left.

'You've always been a good-looking bastard haven't you?' half smiling as you took in his handsome features, 'No wonder you have a long list of admirers to spend all your time instead of me.'

Well before you and Arthur had started dating, you had seen this photograph before. You recalled picking it up from his bedside table back then too, in order to get a closer look of how attractive Arthur's always been.

But sometime between then and making your relationship official, Arthur must have removed it and hidden it out of sight from you. Just as you were about to ask yourself why, you spotted who else was in the picture.

'No…no it can't be,' you thought to yourself as you stared at the beautiful, dark haired woman standing next to him in the image. But, as much as you didn’t want it to be, it certainly was. Looking straight back at you was a younger version of the same woman from the train station…the same woman who had ripped Arthur's heart out and tore it into a million pieces all those years ago when she called off their engagement - Mary.

Time seemed to slow down as your mind went into overdrive. Did he simply remove the picture as a thoughtful gesture so you wouldn't wake up to a younger Arthur and his ex-fiancee looking at you…or did he hide it because he still loved her and her alone? Were you just a stopgap - something to fill the emptiness in his heart until she came back to him? Is that the real reason Arthur had hidden the picture and not gotten rid of it completely? So once he had managed to win her back, he could toss you aside and place it once more on his bedside to stare lovingly at while he held her in his arms?

You hadn’t realise you were crying or just how hard you were gripping the frame until you heard the sudden sound of glass cracking and a mix of your blood and tears began to streak all over her stupid, perfect face. Standing frozen to the spot, you stared and stared at her image, slowly disappearing under the physical manifestations of your hurt and betrayal, until you heard Arthur bellow out your name as he rode back into camp.

"Hey you. Boy, did I sure miss you while I was gone," he cheerfully greeted you as he strode towards you, "I tell you, there's some strange sights out there that I've been dyin' to tell you all 'bout."

"Tell me?" you snarled, acting the wounded animal you currently felt like, "Don't you have other people you'd rather spend your time with?"

"What? What's got into you?"

Your heart panged as you saw the hurt cross his face as he saw how upset you were.

"Listen, if this 'bout me spendin' so much time from camp recently, then I am sorry - but I did miss you somethin' fierce y'know" he assured you, placing his arms around your waist.

"Just like you've missed Mary for all these years?" Just saying her name out loud felt like you had tasted venom on your lips and needed to quickly spit it out.

"Mary? Where's all this comin' from?" He flustered, averting his eyes downwards as not to meet your steely gaze. Upon seeing you holding the photograph, he exclaimed, "Christ alive, you're bleedin'. Here lemme fix you up."

"I'm fine," you snapped at him, pulling your hand away from his gentle touch. Any other time, this small act of affection - the big mean outlaw gently cradling your hand in his - would have made you melt on the spot, but today your inner rage wasn't having any of it. Instead you blurted out, "I saw you. At the train station…with her."

Realising he had been caught out and couldn't bluff his way out of this sorry mess, he sat down on the cot and tried to explain.

"Okay, yeah, I was at the train station with her, but it really ain't what you think…"

"I saw her kiss you."

"You mean when she kissed my cheek? That was her sayin' goodbye. Her and her brother are headin' back East to find their father."

You sat next to him, the photograph still in your hands.

"Still doesn't explain why you were with her in the first place."

"No it doesn't, does it." He sighed, running his hand down his face. "I was on my way back to camp, ridin' through Valentine when I thought I'd check and see if there was any post. Lo' and behold there was just the one - a letter from Mary askin' if I could help with a small problem of hers."

"So you must have been in contact with her if she knew you were in town."

He shook his head. "No. No, she'd recognised the girls after their last trip into town and wrote to me on the off-chance I was also in the area."

"Why?"

"Her kid brother, Jamie, he'd gone and got himself mixed up in this weird cult up in Cumberland Forest. Christ, you shoulda seen them all listenin' on as this lunatic spouted some nonsense about turtles or somethin'," laughing, he patted his leg until he saw your stony expression still waiting for the answer to your question.

"Get to the point please, Arthur."

"You're right, sorry," he said as he nodded, "Jamie was the only one in her family who stood up for me and I owed it to *him*, not Mary, him - to help get him away from those crazy fools."

You fidgeted slightly next to him. You wanted to believe him, but he seemed to be avoiding the main topic of conversation.

"So say I believe you about your reasonings for helping her…why did you keep a picture of her?"

Silence filled the air for a second before he simply answered. "I shoved it in there so you wouldn't have to keep lookin' at it when we lay together...and I guess I forgot all 'bout it."

You looked away as more tears fell down your cheeks. Gently placing his hand under your chin, Arthur turned your face to face his, looking deep into your eyes he told you,

"You’re overthinking – I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.”

"Prove it." You pleaded.

"Okay then...this should show you she's nothin' to me now." He took the broken frame from your grasp and carefully removed the picture from the frame, lingering for a moment before crumpling it up in his hand and walking towards the campfire.

Though his stride was purposeful, you couldn't help but feel he faltered once more as he looked at the flames, but those fears disappeared as he turned to look back at you with a warmth in his eyes and a smile stretching wide across his face. Looking straight at you, his hand opened and the picture fell into the flames, where it lay for a few moments as it slowly rendered into nothing but a pile of ashes.

Making his way back over to you, he picked you up and spun you around his arms.

"I'm all yours...are you mine?"

Bonus scene: Arthur's POV

He slowly removed the picture from the frame, partly being careful not to cut himself on broken shards of glass and partly because he wanted to make sure he was making the right decision. He was convinced that after Mary called it all off between them, he'd never smile, let alone love again. But then you'd walked into his life and brought light back into the darkness he'd found himself in.

But maybe there was a reason he'd held on to this photograph for all this time - a reminder of the good times that existed between them. Heartbreak has a funny way of erasing those memories, but seeing the woman you once considered the love of your life in person has an equally funny way of making those feelings rush back.

But no, the heartache he'd felt for all these years outweighed the fleeting moments of happiness he'd felt with Mary. And that kiss on the cheek to say goodbye that she'd given him at the train station? It certainly didn't give him butterflies like it used too. Looking at her image one last time, he crumpled it up and walked over to the campfire.

Though he had confidently strode over to flames, he once more had doubts he was right to finally let Mary go. Turning to face you, everything suddenly became very clear in Arthur's mind. Everything he ever wanted: someone who loved the group of people he considered family, as well as loving him for the man he was - despite his faults, someone who was willing to stick with him through thick and thin, make him laugh when he was down, and never fail to make him smile, that special someone he wanted to grow old with with...he already had that with you.

Without thinking, he opened his hand and let the battered photograph waft downwards, enveloped by the flames and turning to nothingness as he made his way back over to you, picking you up and spinning you around his arms.

"I'm all yours...are you mine?"

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #merry christmas #(i hope this copied over correctly 🙈🤣)#rdr secret santa 2020 #secret santa gift

166 notes · View notes

sanchoyo · 3 years

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danny phantom 14-20 thoughts!! I finished up s1 :D these last few eps were actually really really good!!!

-did. did tucker really just say esperanto was a dead language only spoken as a secret code between geeks. google says around 100,000 people actively speak it. oh my god...it being an auxiliary language doesn't mean its 'just for geeks to speak in code' ...it helps bridge gaps between people who don't have a language in common...

-danny really isn't pulling punches when it comes to fighting the ghost-cop possessed people huh. like he SLAMMED KWAN INTO THE CONCRETE SO HARD. HE THREW PAULINA INTO A BILLBOARD. will that...I mean it WOULD carry over to their bodies non-possessed, right? like if the ghost piloting their bodies gets hurt?? itd be so upsetting to be possessed, lose time, then wake up covered in bruises (and possibly, broken bones??) real horror movie stuff im sure wont be addressed in any way

-tuckers parents seem nice! I like them :)

-WULF IS CUTE AND I FEEL BAD. im so glad the gang realized he was only causing trouble bc of the shock collar walker put on him and helped. also, him wearing that big hoodie with the hood on, and thinking its subtle. we can tell youre still a giant wolfie :) THEN GETTING SUCKED INTO THE PORTAL AAAAH :( anxiously waiting to see Him Again....

-DANNY BLASTING HIS PARENTS THINKING THEY WERE OVERSHADOWED LMFAO GET THEIR ASSES. maddie marking how many ghosts she gets with lipstick tallies on the side of her portal gun? kindaaa iconic tho. (ALSO, SHE WAS LIKE, 2 FT AWAY FROM HIM RIGHT AFTER SHE TRIED TO SHOOT HIM. HOW DO YOU NOT RECONINZE YOUR OWN SON??? like sure, he might have diff hair/eye colors. but like, if one of my family members dyed their hair, and was wearing contacts, its not like id be like 'wHO IS THIS STRANGER!!!' ...he still has all his facial features!! same everything!!! I hate it here)

-paulina being #1 girl realizing danny's a friendly ghost immediately. smart queen. lancer and kwan ran away right after he made this sweet baby face at them:

which is hilarious.

-ok. im not saying his bullying is JUSTIFIED, but. dash looked so pleased with the (cute!) poster he just painted, and danny comes thru the wall and spills paint on his nice letterman jacket. his anger is justified maybe 65% of the time so far...(not the way he handles it, but STILL.) at least lancer is stepping in!! and them making a silly little bet was...cute?? until dash pulled out his GROSS UNDERWEAR AND SAID DANNY WOULD HAVE TO EAT THEM???? WHAT THE FUCK MAN. TUCKER WAS SO RIGHT ITS FUCKING WEIRD TO CARRY THOSE AROUND EWWW. THIS KID IS UNWELL. lancer was right, his animatronic setup was SUPER IMPRESSIVE?? hes actually pretty creative. danny meanwhile is stealing the fright knight's design...I hope dash is taking art classes or smth with his sports

-fright knight is the most bestest ghost so far i LOVE THAT DESIGN. I am biased towards knights, and characters with swords, but he fucks so severely. and should sue danny for copyright infringement for stealing his design for his haunted house. if some 14 yr old broke into MY house and stole MY sword, id also be pissed. his evil winged unicorn rules too with its FANGS. and he just CAN SHOVE THE PORTAL OPEN WITH HIS HANDS??? is he the strongest ghost weve seen so far? idk but hes my fav. SOUL SHREDDER IS SUCH A COOL SWORD NAME TOO. ANY NAMED SWORD ALSO FUCKS. 'flaming bedsheets of DEATH' funny king. ALSO he was polite to dash and tucker when just asking for directions and telling tucker 'oh maybe, just a suggestion, maybe be nicer to me and be more respectful :)' I LOOOVE HIM.

-I noticed this in the Ember ep, but jazz has an electric guitar in her room!! talent musical queen!! its cool to see hobbies just in the bg.

-fright knight's murder castle reminds me of the booby trapped murder castle in zexal!! another supposedly 'for kids' show with murder/trap castles! we love that. if you are a dp fan reading this, give yugioh zexal a try. its also got 13-14 year old protags and involves (alien) ghosts. the cardgame is just a vessel for the plot, which is really good. (I just want more people to watch my fav yugioh, man)

-danny. with a SWORD.

-danny doesnt NEED TO WIN this contest, dash didnt STEAL HIS DESIGNS AND STEAL A SWORD. he also got excited to hear lancer got sent to a dimension with his worst fears too just so he could win the contest? DANNY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!! BRO MAYBE YOURE 14 AND HAVENT FULLY DEVOLPED YOUR WHOLE BRAIN YET, BUT...THATS FUCKED. this kid casually says the most deranged things, I do worry for my spooky son. once again, therapy needed. that judo toss was great tho. I wonder if he actually did pick up some martial arts stuff from his mom?

-danny can fly 112 mph!!! thats so fast! I love the lil montage of him and his friends testing his abilities and stuff, very cute and a good way to showcase what he can do by now and how much more proficient he's gotten from ep 1!!! I'm sure he's going to get more abilities :)

-im glad...maddie's at least TRYING this ep. I do feel for her because her husband is a man baby. but the fact it took 16 episodes to get a kinda semblance of any kind of real concern or attempts at bonding. hmm. jack's 'BACK OFF SHES A MINOR' @ the ghost trying to attack jazz. also was very funny. and him wanting to make an action figure of her? are the parents redeeming themselves to me? slightly. they gotta Work Harder

-THE GHOST. IS FLYING. THE PLANE.

-fenton machete. but she doesnt carry a PHONE??? ???

-I mean I expected vlad when you namedrop him earlier in the ep, and also the title card picture, and dalv corp being fucking vlad backwards. but seeing him just pull up on a golf cart made me bust out laughing. WITH the gift baskets prepared. why wouldnt you at least be suspicious. also, if he wants danny to be his lil sonboy, why is he so fucking malicious?? dude you are going about this in such a bad way. stop it. get some help.

-maddie not even hesitating to drag danny out. fucking good. danny is so right, go on the internet to date. get a cat. how do you spend...how many years?? has it been since college?? at least 20, right, since the parents/vlad are in their 40s? hung up on ONE girl. my god, man. incel drama queen. her kung fu IS impressive, but dude. 'we both know hes a creep' SO right. it sucks but they do need a phone and shit being in the middle of NOWHERE. also, just stealing his helicopter was great. <3

-'you must be exhausted carrying the weight of that mistake you made years ago' 'well we all make mistakes. maybe I'll make one now!' WHY DID THIS EXHCHANGE SEND ME. AND VLAD WITH THE BREATH SPRAY EWWW BITCH. 'OLD BAIT BREATH' SOO RIGHT. both danny and his mom playing him HAHAH hes so dumb. or rather, I think he thinks with his emotions too too much and is...actually pretty gullible? lmao he believed danny was ready to give in SO fast. (which is sad hes that hopeful, like you have SO MUCH MONEY YOU COULD EASILY GET ANOTHER GIRL WHO HAS A KID. AND WOULD WANT TO BE WITH YOU AND BE SUPPORTED. GET OVER THIS (1) WOMAN ALREADY IM GETTING SECONDHAND EMBARRASSMENT AAAAH)

-GHOST BEAR GHOST BEAR GHOST BEAR. it was also in the title card, but I still got very excited. we love bears here

-SAM'S BAT SWIMSUIT COVERUP!!! her outfits are simply iconic.

-'i'd tell you to go to the mens room, but I don't think you qualify' top paulina transphobic moments. :( and him wearing a tanktop to the swim park? hmmm! (actually I think she was overshadowed by then, so, KITTY top 10 transphobic moments??)

-kitty just piloting paulina around makes me feel SO bad tho, paulina's gonna wake up and be like 'wtf do you mean I was dating this rando' like youre leading danny on to make johnny jealous, and also just POSSESSING POOR PAULINA. dude take your relationship problems ELSEWHERE. last time we saw them, they seemed like such a cute couple!! wtf johnny!! I mean, she sucks for trying to make him jealous, he sucks for looking at other girls...maybe they need a break, but Not Like This. or, you know, just. better communication...

-and the A-listers having a full packet and a stamp system. who organizes this. kwan fucking owning being the new danny though, this is hysterical. THE TUCKER/KWAN FLOWER FIELD TWIRL. UNIRONICALLY ADORABLE. and him giving it his all for the poetry slam. bless his HEARTTTT.

-Star owns. actually, all of the extra characters are shining this ep and I love it.

-INVISO-BILL??? NOOOO THEY DID HIM SOO DIRTY. DANNY SWEETIE IM SO SORRY.

-johnny and danny bein friends and staging a fake fight (which danny takes too seriously, once again this child has aggression he NEEDS TO WORK OUT) I hope these three stay friends, I said it before but danny needs more friendly ghosts to hang with.

-at this point, Danny's ghost enemies are a lot like, I dunno, batman's rouge gallery is the first thing that comes to mind. they all have their own gimmick and unique designs, but most of them are easy to beat after learning the Moral Lesson. I still get excited when any of them show up again, though. 18 is another valerie episode!!!! :D skulker really said you two will get along if I have to handcuff you together <3 and the gym teacher really said, youre married now, have a flour baby! ngl, I'm not really watching this show for the shipping stuff (which I am very scared to look at the fandom for after I finish this watch through- I feel like there's probably discourse/arguing about ships...) but. I'm gonna put my opinion out there. valerie/danny > sam/danny. maybe I just really love the enemies to lovers trope. And the secret identity stuff adds Extra Flavor.

-SKULKER JUST HAVING THE BOX GHOST AND DANGLING HIM BY A STRING. HILARIOUS. and him watching them with binoculars and making his silly little commentary. AND MAKING THE SACK BABY CRY. LMAO. THIS DUDE IS A BABY KIDNAPPER. skulker is super fun

-danny, you just...collapsed the water tower. and then attacked the nasty burger machine...mascot thingy...out of anger..I KEEP SAYING HE'S GOT ANGER ISSUES BUT. HE REALLY NEEDS A LESSON IN MANAGING COLLATERAL DAMAGE!!! So does valerie!! They're both pretty focused on each other. I mean it's good of Danny to say he's trying to make sure PEOPLE don't get hurt, but... (I mean I guess it's not something 14 year olds WOULD worry about, but as an adult im like, who's going to fix that? how much money will that take??)

-TUCKER MAKING BANK. and sam and tucker being super emotionally attached to their flour baby and being pretty good parents. that's cute...also him just straight kissing her and being like. WAIT. O_O JDSKAFHD. his mom baking them into cookies was the funniest possible result. tbh I dont feel like this is on tucker, if anything the other kid's shouldve been more responsible! He was just taking an opportunity to get that $$ which I respect

-Danny being more understanding of Valerie's situation in the end (helping her at her job, too, and trying to keep that a secret for her!!!) And seeing them work together this ep, and also her letting phantom get her out of the ghost zone...was very sweet. LOVE that. more valerie eps pls

-me when I realize vlad's big stupid house exploded because of his own carelessness with changing the ghost portal ectofiltrator or whatever: *pointing and laughing*

-me when I realize it means he's gonna go make danny's life hell for it somehow: >:(

-SCOOBY PARODY!!! I feel like there's gotta be some scooby doo/danny phantom crossover stuff, right? also, 'guys in white' men in black wishes

-'oh, that's right! dad married the love of your life! you're bitter and alone!' DANNNNNYY GET HIS ASS ONCE AGAIN WE ARE POINTING AND LAUGHING AT VLAD

-'jack, you captured the ghost boy!!' UMM. he did nothing <3 'we have a weapon's vault??' YOU HAVE A WEAPONS VAULT??? and jack didnt put a handle on the inside. of fucking course he didnt! why would you leave that to your son!! or expect him to clean YOUR LAB when its where you work with probably dangerous chemicals and weapons and hes 14!! give him normal chores, like, I dunno, vacuuming, laundry, dishes...CMON. I hate it here. But I'm glad Jack is more chill about danny while he's a ghost, and willing to work with him for this ep. AND. I DID ENJOY JACK PUNCHING VLAD IN THE FACE. AND GENERALLY JUST OWNING HIM. the ghost punchy fists are actually amazing. like yeah, just punch a ghost in the face. that rules.

-ep 20 opens with the coolest fucking ghost lady design. her tattoos can come off and fight. MA'AM. I like ur nose ring and your cape maam hello 👉👈😳

-sam's grandma is hilarious and the most valid member of her family and I love her. thats my grandma now. and tucker covering for sam by dressing as her. thats true friendship <3 also skipping school to go to a goth circus. just bestie things! sam's parents are haters but for all the wrong reasons.

-'my family has controlled ghosts with this for generations!' WAIT. WAIT FREAKSHOW /ISNT/ A GHOST? I didn't expect that...he's just a fucked up guy controlling ghosts? anyway watching danny shoot at police cars and rob banks while mind controlled. its like, the most stereotypical 'bad' things lmao. (tbh an evil ghost circus troupe is a sick concept)

this gives off big deviantart emo edit vibes

(I'm going to assume evil circus reaper danny has a lot of fan content. people love an edgy au, except this one is canon (even tho its via mind control...having the protag go evil otherwise might be hard, I guess?) but au where he stays with the troupe...that has to exist, right?)

ANYWAY. excited to start s2!! lowkey surprised by how many notes some of these posts have gotten. I've gone back and tagged them all with 'dp thoughts' so they're easier to find on my blog! ^^ and I will probably possibly do (more) fanart on my art blog after I finish the watch of the whole show, so like. @sanchoyodraws follow my art blog :)

#sanchoyorambles #danny phantom #dp thoughts

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 4 years

Text

Feral Fatality

(Part 1)

So this has been in my works for a week now. You see, it was a typical day for me scrolling through Tumblr and visiting some....tags, and then a short drabble inspired me to write about a feral reader totally not because I was craving violence and murder no, which reached more than 4k words on the first draft so here we are! Shitty title, I know. The proofread work went over 7k, and it's not even finished yet. Once I'm done posting this and my main orc fic, I will get into the requests so please be patient!

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Brief blood and violence at the end of the first part

Contains: Swearing, mentions of neglect and abuse (not graphic)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Screams slit through the twilight as the frigid autumn wind blew harshly through the trees of Camp Crystal Lake. The rustling of bushes and cracking of twigs echoed as foolish teenagers attempted to escape, running for their lives when they were the ones who dared step foot in the place, tarnishing it with their sins.

Jason Voorhees, the innocent kid who died several years ago; pushed to the lake by his bullies and left to drown for being different and unsightly— all because the counselors were busy with their fucking business—, returned as an undead killing machine right after his mother murdered them and died. His sole purpose: to protect the land and purge the people who had no right to be here, sentencing them to a horrendous death.

One by one, they struck the ground, lifeless, either chopped into pieces, beheaded, or stabbed countless times by his trusty machete.

Limbs...ripped off with his bare hands.

The muffled snapping of branches reached your ears as the vehicle's wheels ran over them, stirring you from your nap. You rubbed your chilled skin under your clothes as you looked out of the window, thumping your forehead on the glass when you leaned forward the moment you saw the scenery. Trees, both ancient and young, their leaves varying in hues of green, orange and red, filled your line of sight. It was still early in autumn, your favorite time of the year, not hot but not too cold either. You watched in awe as the warm-colored leaves cascaded down from the branches and down to the ground, some carried by the wind farther from their origin.

The view did its best to distract you from a couple in session a seat before yours. They always seem to do that all the time, regardless of place or occasion.

This was a week-long getaway after graduation, they said.

Nothing but a white lie.

An excuse for the girls to hook up with their campus crushes, a week of fucking and smoking drugs.

You, however, just got invited —forced— by your "friend" Eloiza, the self-proclaimed hottest girl in the entire school, typical captain of the cheerleading squad; blonde and curvy. Her words were much too sugar-coated that even a deaf person could tell she had ulterior motives.

She only planned to use you as a tool to raise her fame. A stepping stone for her own gain.

That wasn't the only reason though.

Everyone knew who you were, but only by your name. News and rumors alike spread like wildfire through gossipy mouths. Your deeds were known throughout campus.

(Y/N)(L/N), top academic competitor and multiple-award winner, a straight-A student for five years in succession. Some believed you were a genius, the rest called you insane.

You wouldn't call yourself a genius though, you did not possess the obsessive need to acquire eternal knowledge and discover the secrets of the universe as most of them do, to effortlessly solve every problem that comes their way.

If that were the case, then you wouldn't be here in the first place.

You only love learning and indulging in the beauty of Mother Nature, plus a handful of hyper-fixations.

Fine, a buttload of hyper-fixations. And such came in handy in various situations.

You were unrivaled, not one of your peers could come close to your level of wit. Many people wished to have a brain like yours, and just as many hated you for even having one, praised you just as much as slandered your name and judged you.

Despite your reputation, the poor school didn't broadcast it, at least every time. The staff probably got tired of repeating the same phrase over and over again. Which caused more than half of the whole campus to never believe you to be the one behind all of that, laughing at your face when you said your name.

"You? The (Y/N) (L/N)? Ha! As if I'd fall for that! Everyone knows how she looks. You're the absolute opposite!"

"You got to be kidding me."

"You're a joker, aren't you? Is this a prank? If so please stop it, don't pretend like you're her."

Yep, and it goes on and on and on. They were right, you didn't look like someone who would win contests or excel in class.

You constantly wore clothes that hid your form, silent unless spoken to or asked to answer, distant and reserved, you preferred the company of books and nature to the rowdiness and prying hands of humans. A sociopath they deemed you. Quite an extreme word to use when you simply wanted to enjoy the only things that made you happy in this living hell.

You only know a handful of people who approached you first-hand and praised you genuinely, even asking for an autograph, which really surprised you.

Yet, they would never understand you even if you explained, because you can't, words evade you when it comes down to voice out what you feel. Even if you can, no one would care. And even if they did? You doubt it was real. Everyone wants to use you, and they seem to believe you'd let them. You didn't trust anyone. The last time you did only left you sobbing on the dirt.

You wanted to be left alone.

To connect with nature and get as far away as possible from your parents. Parents who kept shouting profanities at each other, the main cause for your depression and anxiety levels to skyrocket, the shaking turning into trembling, 7 hours of sleep to barely a blink.

That's why you agreed to go in the first place.

You hated your household—despised it— a mess of broken shards of bottles and ceramics littered your kitchen floor more often than not. You didn't bother cleaning it up anymore, your mother would just waste away her money on more things to break and throw them at your joke of a father when they fought anyway.

Not only that, you thought...No, you believed if you worked hard to be the best and win countless competitions, your parents would give you recognition and reconcile for your sake, but no, no, no. They didn't care one bit about you or your medals, it was as if you were never even included in their lives at all. Even birthday celebrations ceased to exist in everyone's books after your 13th.

So you gave up.

Down into the void, your wishful thinking went, that they'll become better people over time, that the attention and love you deserve will be given one day. Instead, you wallowed yourself in your studies, besting everyone in everything academic. Oh, but you weren't athletic. Far from it. Damn, you were getting thin and sleep-deprived from being neglected, dark circles under your eyes every time you looked at your reflection. People hating your existence wasn't helping, some teachers even suspected you of cheating.

There's no way in hell you'd let yourself get dragged down to end up like them! You were of legal age now, a fresh graduate from high school, you doubt your parents even knew that since they didn't fucking show up on your graduation day. You were moving out of that shithole of a town. Anywhere is better than where they breathed and spat their poison.

And so here you are. Standing in this breath-taking and mysterious place. Camp Crystal Lake, it is named, secluded, barely touched by modernization as it is hidden between mountains and trees as far as the eye could see. Not to mention its namesake, the lake, you imagined it would mirror the sky, be it day or night. You loved it, you adored the fresh, breathable air that went through you the moment you stepped out of the van.

You also knew about him.

Resolved to never go back to that goddamned house, you took everything you had and needed; the special little trinkets you've collected through the years shoved into a box, the few clothes you had, art materials, and your precious books carefully packed inside a big travel bag, along with your stocked up canned goods, convenience food, snacks, and toiletries.

And other, important things.

You hauled your baggage out of the van and got off, immediately moving to the side and away from everyone.

You got used to people ignoring you that you didn't care anymore.

Why waste your time with them when you can have all of it to yourself?

Eloiza led the group into the larger cabins, the others went straight into the lake for a swim. You even notice some teens disappear into the trees, most likely for a quickie.

In return, you stayed out of their way, fully satisfied being invisible and with your own company as you trudged to a cabin, the one you caught a glimpse of earlier in the van. It was a long way's separated from the rest, closest to the forest and hidden behind a few trees.

You were panting when you finally stopped in front of it, clearly not used to walking long distances and carrying stuff near as heavy as your weight.

Upon closer inspection, you found yourself gaping at its appearance. The wooden walls lost their color as they aged, white and brown mushrooms grew on the ground along with green moss sticking to the beams, and a few vines crawling their way up and on the roof. Despite all of that, the cabin looked sturdy still.

There's this "one with nature" vibe that drew you to it, like a string pulling you closer and inviting you. Ominous most would say, but you almost cried when the rich scent of earth and oxygen filled your lungs as you took one big inhale, sighing in content for once. It was a lot smaller compared to the others, but you didn't care. As long as you were left alone with your stuff you were a-okay.

Perfect.

You turned the knob and peeked inside, letting out a small gasp and opening the door wider to see the whole thing.

Old as it is, it was proper and neat, regardless of the tiny cobwebs on the upper corners. A small, square dining table sat in the middle of the first part of the place, two wooden stools placed underneath. There were cupboards on the wall and a simple sink with an empty space to the side. You went to the next room, doorless and separated with but a wall of thick plywood. It had a single bed in the corner, off-white cotton sheets sitting atop, not a wrinkle in sight. No pillow though. There's a decent-sized closet along with a small table on one side of the bed. One of the windows had a hole in the middle, a ray of sunlight streaming in through the cracks. It was too big for the size of a gunshot, so maybe a rock.

A bit hesitant, your fingers traced the wood, feeling the inconsistent texture. When you went through the back door, your smile reached your ears when trunks of trees and bushes greeted you...

Wait, is that what you think it is?

Stepping closer to the treeline, your jaw dropped when you spotted a thicket of fruit-bearing plants past them, gathered in a tiny clearing.

Blueberries.

Purple little cuties poked out of the green shrubs, sporting a vibrant hue that caught your eye. The sun shone overhead and providing the energy they needed. Blueberries managed to grow in the area despite the trees fencing them.

Tempted and suspicious, you crouched down, inspecting the shrub if it really was a blueberry plant and not a deadly doppelganger. Once you were sure it was, (it would be hilarious if you simply died from nighshade poisoning), you plucked one and brought it to your mouth. It was sweeter than you expected, with a slightly bitter aftertaste. You hummed in delight, wiping the juice with your thumb when it dribbled out, staining your finger and lips.

You didn't want to anger anybody. Hell, coming here was already trespassing, so you didn't push your luck and left it alone, hoping they'd forgive you for picking one. They surely didn't look wild with the way they lined up.

You scanned the rest of the area, eventually going back inside to unpack after your little evaluation.

The sun was a hand's away from setting when you finished. Pride swelled in your chest at the work you did, your things stocked and organized with care inside the cabinets and drawers. You won't have to worry about your food for now as cupboards were filled to the brim with them. You also had a decent amount of money left from your savings account that your parents weren't aware of. Prize money, allowance, and the salary you got from doing online jobs all went into it. The camp was a few miles off the road, and a couple more to the nearest gas station with a convenience store. Very far yes, but it's better than living with the people who made you do this in the first place.

You just hoped you wouldn't die walking.

Everything was worth it, anyways. You were free now, at least that's what you think.

You trudged to the bed, eyeing the cushions, wary and a little scared to touch the sheets that appeared to be cleaned just recently, you didn't even lay a finger on them ever since you got inside. Oh, but your tired muscles were screaming to just flump down and relax.

So you did.

You dumped yourself face first and inhaled. It wasn't smelly nor fragrant, just the simple freshness on the cotton fabric. You felt beat but ain't sleepy, yet, so you reached to the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a book to pass the time as you waited for the sun to go down and give way for the moon. Its spine and pages had creases, worn out and yellow-stained from age and use. It was a horror-mystery novel told through a first-person narrative, a story of a middle-aged detective and her Maine coon in their attempts to solve a murder case of a young European lady named Cassandra Chase.

You dozed off in the middle of chapter 21, the part where Dinnie, the cat, discovers a valuable clue to the crime, a rotten limb in the dried basement well.

—

Jason settled down on the stairs of his porch; shoulders relaxed and hunched as he leisurely sharpened his machete with a small whetstone. Lines of sunlight kissed him through the leaves of trees, the birds in the area chirped on their perches, and the grass swayed, gentle, as a cool wind passed by.

His day be so fine. No troublemakers to deal wi—

The alarm rang, announcing unwelcomed arrival. As if a switch flipped inside, he's already on his feet, making his way swiftly to their location.

A new batch of wretched youngsters, another day ruined. Hunting them down makes his blood thrum in his veins, yes, but they soured his mood, just when he was at peace. He's dead set on slaughtering them in the most gruesome ways possible, only then he could go back and enjoy the serenity the nature around him brings.

He surveyed the area, camouflaging with the wilderness, silent as he watched and counted the soon-to-be corpses, his mother's voice at the back of his mind, guiding him.

They decided to go either to the main cabins, or the lake...even into the trees.

All but one.

Jason already planned to cut down the couple later as they lose themselves in the forest, doing nasty, dirty things to his camp. The killer shifted his attention to you, curious as to why you didn't join the lot. Instead, you walked back down the road. He followed and saw you approach the small cabin, separated from the rest, your eyes widened...

Adoration?

You were quiet— except for the little gasps of awe you let out in between pants—as you looked around and over the place. The ones you came with were rowdy and destructive, a complete opposite. He hid as he observed you from afar, moving around to adjust his vision on you. You smiled every time you looked to the trees, he noticed.

Why were you smiling like that? Why did you pick this cabin? Were you planning on defiling it?

The last question in his mind made his blood boil. He'll kill you first if that was the case. That cabin you chose was special, it was where he and his mother used to stay. He occasionally visits that one to keep it clean and free of dust. If you even think of—

Jason, sweetie...look closer. She does not have such intentions.

His mother's words rang in his head. Even from where he stood, he could see what you did inside. You looked a little hesitant, touching and drawing back your hand before letting your fingers feel the wood as if it was something delicate. Despite the initial...shyness? You proceeded to make it your home, somewhat, dropping the large duffel bags you carried on your front and back, and a similarly large roller case on your left. It was as if you planned to stay for a long time.

Jason hears you take a long breath and sigh as you went out the backdoor. You grinned wider when you saw the nature around you. You stepped forward, straight in his direction...

For a moment he thought you saw him, seeing your jaw drop. You moved closer, and he just froze there, until you crouched down.

Oh, his plants.

He watched you as you gently picked a fruit, your gaze...soft. You brought it to your mouth, some of the juice spilling on the side and you wiped it with your thumb.

Cute.

You went back inside and continued to unpack your things, carefully maneuvering around the cabin.

Maybe he'll spare you if you continue to be good. You didn't do anything dirty, yet. It's only a matter of time before the camp is shrouded in darkness and his hunt will begin.

Let's see what you'll do before that happens.

Jason tracked down the three that went into the forest. He knew the place like the back of his hand, and it was easier to pinpoint them as he heard moans.

What he saw was utmost disgusting, two girls pleasuring a male with their mouths in broad daylight.

Kill them, my boy! Such foul beings need to die! Kill them, kill!

He circled them, steps soundless. Jason gripped his machete and brought it down the guy's neck, embedding the weapon into the bark, the head rolled down, oozing with blood, and fell against the women, drenching them in red. Not a single cry left from their mouths as he sliced both with one swing, blood pouring out of their throats and staining the ground. Jason dragged their bodies and tossed them into a pit he dug beforehand, making quick work in burying them.

A swift end. Now he waits.

#jason voorhees x reader #jason x reader #friday the 13th #blood #violence #slatra #lmao #my writing #fiction #horror #slasher x reader #feral reader #slasher x fem!reader #reader insert #slasher fic #slasher x reader fic #jason voorhees #friday the 13th fic

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not-so-mundane-after-all · 3 years

Text

Touching | 8. shielding the other one with their body, Dick & Rachel - for @wonderbatwayne

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: Safe Haven

Series: Physical Affection - Tumblr Prompts

Pairings/Relationships: Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth

Summary: "The answer is simple, Grayson. Five years ago in this very place you took what's mine away from me. Now I'm taking what's yours."

2x07 AU

Check out the prompt list | REQUESTS OPEN

____________________________________________

Safe Haven

You really wanna be back here?

Dick tried to ignore his father's voice as he marched between the rows of wooden benches.

"Where is he?"

Deathstoke led him to this church - to the place where everything went down five years ago. But now it was empty.

Bruce showed up in front of him, blocking his way.

He's feeding on your guilt. Like a spider. He's lured you away from where you need to be… who you need to protect.

"He killed my friend," Dick argued. "Nearly killed Jason. He has to be stopped."

Very heroic of you. Except… you don't give a shit.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You don't know."

But I do, Bruce said as he walked up to him. I know everything. That's why you brought me. Just like I know why you keep sneaking off on these solo runs, just like you did five years ago. You have blood on your hands.

"Not just me."

But you have more, son. Blood only you and Slade know about. You're afraid of the dark. Always have been. Even as a little boy. The great chasm of silence. The coldness of isolation. You're afraid if the others know your secret they'll leave you and you'll be alone, again. And they may.

His heart sped up in his chest, his mind forgot how to breathe for a monent.

"They don't need to know," he said finally. "What difference does it make? It's done, it's in the past. It's behind me."

But it's not. It's got to come out.

"God damn it!" he shouted, feeling his nerves snapping. He was really getting tired of all this bullshit. "Can you leave me alone?"

You know how to get rid of me. You've known the whole time.

Tears started burning behind his eyes.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Of course you do, son. You always have. You just have to tell the truth.

But he couldn't. It was too much. It would destroy him, destroy everything he had with his team.

"It's too hard." he whispered, dropping his head in shame. It was getting harder to keep tears at bay.

His father reached out and gently brushed his fingers down Dick's cheek. Even if he was only a prodcut of Dick's own fucked up mind the touch felt very real and it brought some sort of comfort to him.

His gaze then fell on the altar and he froze, noticing something he hadn't before. Bruce stepped out of his way when he moved and walked up the stairs to a heavy wooden table. Upon one look at the display it showed his blood ran cold.

At least a dozen pictures were scattered among lit candles and each one of them showed Rachel. Sitting on a couch with Gar, both laughing. Talking with Kory. Eating breakfast in the kitchen with Hank, Dawn and Donna around. He saw himself in those photos too - training with her in one, walking with her on the street in the other, with coffee cups in their hands and his arm wrapped around her shoulders. But in most of these pictures she was alone, usually somewhere around the Tower, in her bedroom or the kitchen and it was clear all the shots were taken without her or any of them knowing.

At the very centre of the table was a small black box.

With a shaking hand and a heart hammering in his chest Dick reached for it and slowly lifted the lid. On a white satin pillow meant to hold some kind of jewelry lay a lock of dark blue hair, coated in crimson blood.

Dick's knees almost gave out under him, sending him on the floor.

"No."

He left those for you, Bruce said behind him. He turned to his father for a moment, his face twisting in shock and confusion, but quickly came back to the display, hoping it disappeared when he wasn't looking. Because it couldn't be real, just like this Bruce wasn't real. It couldn't be happening. But the pictures were still there, as well as the box and the candle flames were still burning.

Go home, Dick, his father's voice rang in his ears. It seems like one way or another, the monster's been in the Tower all along.

He couldn't take it anymore. The mix of fear, fury, worry, confusion and dozens of other conflicted emotions he couldn't name was about to explode, ripping him apart from within. He smashed his hand on the table sending all the pictures and candles flying, tossed it all on the floor in blinding rage and whipped around, ready to run out of the church. He needed to get back to the Tower, to find Rachel. Maybe this was all some kind of a sick joke, maybe Slade is bluffing, playing mind games on him to keep him on edge. Maybe it's all one big-

"Well, look who finally made it."

Dick stopped to a halt, his breath hitching in his throat. The front door to the church was open, revealing no other than Deathstroke standing in the door frame with his blade pressed to Rachel's neck. She was almost limp in his hold, barely awake but conscious enough to be standing on her feet. Her head was swaying dangerously like she's in a haze, the side of her face covered in blood oozing from a split on her temple.

"Dick…" she muttered, her voice weak and faint as a whisper in the wind carried out in the acoustics of the place and his heart jumped to his throat. He instinctively moved, wanting to rush to her but Slade stopped him, tightening his grip on her and pressing the blade harder to her skin. A drop of blood trickled down the shiny steel and Rachel instantly stilled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." the masked man said slowly, a clear warning in his deep voice.

Dick sucked in a sharp breath, his nostrils flaring. "What did you do to her?"

"Not much. Yet." he slowly tilted his head to the side. "I just gave her something to neutralize her powers. A small gift from this little group that eloquently calls themselves… The Organization?"

Dick felt his fists clenching so tight his knuckles must have turned white. He was trembling but unable to move. His eyes were locked on Rachel's pale face as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Questions were piling up under his skull, starting with how did this happen but there was no time for getting answers, first and foremost he needed to protect Rachel.

"I hope you enjoyed our little game." Slade continued, pushing Rachel onward so he could walk deeper into the church. She staggered on wobbly feet but he didn't let her fall. He wasn't gentle in holding her up either and hearing her grunt made Dick grit his teeth. "You must have had a nice ride around the city, following false leads and fake clues. Gave me enough time to get to this one while the others were busy jumping to each other's throats."

He risked one step forward, glaring at the face hidden behind the mask.

"What do you want from her?" he asked instead of giving Slade satisfaction by reacting to his words. "It's me you're after and I'm here. So let her go and let's get this over with. Rachel has nothing to do with this."

Slade let out a gurgling laugh and shook his head which only infuriated Dick more. His blade twitched in his hand and Rachel flinched, her face twisted in pain.

"Oh don't you see? She has everything to do with this." His masked face got uncomfortably close to Rachel's face and she turned her head away, cringing in fear and whimpering. Dick barely could hold himself back from lunging at Slade. "Poor kid. Snatched from the street, taken under the caring but broken wings of The Fallen Grayson just to be let down and end up dead. Funny how history loves to repeat itself but twists the ending at the last moment."

His arm gripped her tighter and Rachel's body tensed like a string that's about to snap. Her breath quickened and pupils widened up in terror. Their eyes met for the first time and Dick's heart broke seeing how scared she was, how she was silently begging him to save her.

"Rachel!"

"The answer is simple, Grayson." Slade hissed, fixing his grip on his sword and shifting the blade so the cold steel was now touching Rachel's cheek. "Five years ago in this very place you took what's mine away from me." He moved the blade slowly, making a shallow cut on her face and Rachel whimpered in pain. "Now I'm taking what's yours."

And he pulled the sword down.

"DON'T!"

Slade stopped with the sword pressed to her carotid artery and looked at Dick who was aiming at him with the gun he was holding in his hand this whole time. His finger stilled on the trigger, grip so tight his knuckles bleached but his arm - no, his entire body - was shaking. His breath became shallow and rapid, heart trying desperately to break out of its cage.

"DON'T HURT HER!" he shouted and risked taking a few steps closer. He must have looked like a madman and he wouldn't be one bit surprised because that's exactly what he felt right now - madness. "Don't you fucking touch her or I SWEAR TO GOD-"

Deathstroke scoffed.

"We both know you're not gonna shoot." he said in a tone so light like they were discussing weather or something equally trivial.

Dick brought his other hand up to steady his grip on the weapon but in his current state it did him no good.

"Watch me."

"Are you willing to risk your precious little girl's life, like you did with Jericho? Or have you learned from your mistakes by now?"

"Don't listen to him, Dick!" Rachel suddenly spoke. Her voice was strong and she was staring at him with terrified but focused eyes. Dick let himself quietly sigh in relief. Whatever drug Slade had given her must be wearing off.

"Shut up." the assassin growled in her face, threatening her with his weapon again. She eyed the sword and gulped down hard but remained silent.

Dick took another step closer.

"Rach, look at me." he asked gently, for a moment not caring about how Slade might react. Risky move but he needed to talk to her. She did as he told her and their eyes met. "Listen, you're gonna be okay. I promise."

"Oh, isn't it adorable." Slade scoffed again, shaking his head. Dick was almost sure the man was rolling his eyes under that hideous mask. "I see you've learned nothing. Even after all this time you lie in their faces that they're gonna be safe with you. It's pathetic."

Neither of them were listening to his little tirade. While Slade was talking they were having their own silent conversation. Rachel held Dick's gaze to make sure she had his attention, then pointed her eyes at the elbow of the arm Slade was holding her with. Then her eyes went back to Dick and she mouthed one short word.

Shoot.

He shook his head, feeling a bile of fear forming in his throat. It was a huge risk. An inch to his right and the bullet could pierce Rachel's chest. All it takes is for Slade to move or Dick's arm to tremble. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if the bullet went the wrong way.

But her eyes were full of faith and confidence when she was looking at him. A small smile appeared on her lips. She knew he was hesitating because of her and tried to encourage him as well as she could without Slade noticing. He could read what she was trying to tell him in her face.

I know you won't hurt me.

He would never. He'd rather die the most painful death than be the reason a single hair falls off her head.

He pulled the trigger.

Deathstroke's armor clinked when the bullet made contact with his elbow. It didn't do any damage, but that wasn't the point. Slade cried out, more surprised than hurt because he didn't think Dick would actually fire that gun, but the impact made him release Rachel from his hold. She was still swaying on unsteady feet but she instantly lunged herself to the side, hiding between the rows of benches and getting out of the way.

Good girl.

In the meantime a fight broke out between two men. Dick charged at Slade, fueled by hot rage burning inside of him. He didn't have his Robin suit anymore or any of his gadgets but his body was a weapon in itself due to years of training and experience. He was throwing kicks and punches, dodging and turning and moving. Slade threw away his sword and sent him falling on his back with one strong kick to his chest, but despite the hit pushing all air out his lungs Dick managed to quickly jump back to his feet. They danced around each other like it's a choreography learned a long time ago and the moves are now coming back to them with clarity after years of not using them. Every move of the assassin was full of precision and technicality, cold, strong and perfectly aimed while Dick filled his every action with images of those he was fighting for. He thought of Garth falling to the ground with bullet in his chest while connecting his foot with Slade's jaw, sending his head to the side. He thought of Jason hanging on one hand from one of the tallest buildings in the city with terror in his wide eyes as he punched Slade in the diaphragm so hard the skin on his knuckles split and started bleeding. He thought of Jericho bleeding out on the floor of this church when he jumped on the benches and swiftly moved to find himself behind Slade's back. And he thought of Rachel, pale as ghost and terrified, with blood trickling down her face when he round kicked Slade in the back, sending him to his knees.

"So emotional." the man grunted and straightened up. He reached for his baton and with one push of a button turned it into a spear. "So… attached."

Dick roared like an angry lion and attacked again.

This time Deathstroke got the upper hand, pushing Dick back towards the altar. Blocking the spear wasn't easy without any weapon in his hand and soon he was covered with smaller and bigger cuts. He fell on his back at the stairs, hitting the back of his head so hard his sight became foggy but he still managed to use his legs to cut Slade from his feet. However, the man didn't lose his balance, only jumped out of the way and pushed his heavy boot to Dick's chest, then pressed the blunt end of the spear to his Adam's apple.

"You were right," Deathstroke breathed out, turning the spear around. Dick heard his voice as if coming from underwater. His mask was a blur of color. "Let's get this over with." Then he raised his arm and stabbed.

But the blade never made it to Dick's chest.

First he saw a shadow looming over him and when his sight cleared he recognized the head of blue curly hair. He lifted himself on his elbows watching in horror while his heart screamed in agony.

No. Not again.

Please, not again.

Rachel pushed herself between him and Slade and shielded him with her own body, just like Jericho did five years ago.

She slowly looked down at the blade sticking out from her chest before Deathstroke harshly pulled it out. Her hands covered the wound, her fingers instantly turning red and then she swayed, about to fall down.

"Rachel, no!" Dick cried out and caught her, laying her down on his chest. A sob wrecked his body when he saw the waterfall of blood coating the front of her black sweater, making the warm wool stick to her body. He pressed his hand to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding while she looked up at him with those big blue eyes and he felt tears falling down his cheeks. "Oh God, Rachel. What did you do?"

"I had to- s-save you-" she choked out, a drop of blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth. She covered his hand with her own and squeezed it tight. "I cou-couldn't let you- d-die."

In the meantime Slade stepped back and hid his weapon. He was watching the scene in front of him unfold, still as a statue.

"Now you know how it feels," he said, aiming his words at Dick, who lifted his tear-stained face to glare at the man, "to have your own child bleeding out in your arms. Death would've been a mercy for you, Grayson. This… this is a lesson you will never forget."

"I will fucking kill you." Dick snarled at him, gritting his teeth. "I'm gonna hunt you down, you hear me?!"

Deathstoke chuckled and turned his back to him.

"Good luck with that." he threw over his shoulder then headed out of the church, leaving the other two alone.

Dick made some sort of a sound. A noise that he himself couldn't even describe. It sounded as if something had brutally ripped his chest open and tore out of it. He roared like an animal, venting his despair and anger.

"Dick..." a soft whisper pierced through to his consciousness, drawing his attention. "It's okay."

Another sob shook his body.

"Rachel… Rachel, my Rachel." he whispered, hugging her and frantically brushing the hair wet with blood and sweat away from her pale face.

So much blood. He was completely covered in it now, it soaked through his clothes and bit into his skin.

"It's not okay." he shook his head. "I'm supposed to be protecting you, not the other way around."

She managed to smile at him.

"We're supposed to… save each other… remember?"

"Not like this." he said, his voice breaking. "Never like this."

She squeezed his hand again. Their fingers, slick from her blood, entwined together tightly.

"You were my… save haven."

He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Then the meaning behind her words hit him like a speeding train and he held her tighter.

"No. Don't say that." he ordered desperately. "This is not a goodbye, you hear me? You're not going anywhere."

"Dick-"

"No! Help me." he croaked, pressing their clasped hands against her bleeding heart. "Use your powers. Take my energy, absorb it."

She coughed, spitting blood. They were running out of time.

"I can't- h-heal myself."

"Yes, you can. You have to."

But she didn't seem to hear him. Her eyelids closed slowly and her head fell on his arm.

"Rachel?" Dick's voice grew louder, breaking and rising like waves away at sea. "Rachel, my baby, please, honey, open your eyes, it's me, Dick, I'm here with you, I'll always be here, please, please…"

He leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, letting out a painful cry. He howled like a wolf, his shoulders trembling, heavy tears splashing on her round cheeks. It was his fault. All of it was his fault. A part if him knew it would end like this the monent he met her. But his love was too strong and he ignored the warning. Now she was paying the price.

"Don't go, Rach." he begged, his voice shattered. "Don't leave me alone in a world without you in it."

He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand with such force that he felt her knuckles grinding in his grip.

Rachel, please come back. We can do this. You saved my life in more ways than you can imagine. Nothing is impossible for us. I love you, okay? I love you and please come back to me.

He reached deep into his memories. Rachel at the police station in Detroit looks up and stares at him as if she saw a ghost; Rachel, curled up in the bathtub of that crappy motel, surrounded by scraps of paper with crosses drawn on it, throws herself into his arms crying; Rachel leans over him in the asylum and reminds him of his promise to never to leave her; Rachel comes out of the fog with her head held high proudly after defeating Trigon; her smile and eyes wide open when she saw the inside of the Tower for the first time. And many, many other memories he will cherish for the rest of his life.

Heal, he begged because there was nothing else left to do. Take my life, take it all. Heal.

Something changed. Rachel's hand in his hold started getting warmer. He lifted his head slightly, blinking away tears and gasped at the sight of a bright purple glow seeping through his fingers. He watched in complete awe as the wound on her chest slowly started closing until there was nothing left beside a thin pink line that was already fading as well. The color came back to her face and she took a gulp of air, almost choking on it. Then she sat up, her eyes opened wide and she pressed her hands to her chest but to no use because there was nothing there, only drying blood on her clothes. She looked down at herself then back at him.

"How?"

He smiled at her and scooted closer.

"I told you you can heal yourself."

Her brows furrowed in confusion but then understanding flooded her face and she smiled back.

"It wasn't just me… it was you, Dick. You willed me back to life and… and my powers listened." she grabbed his hands in hers. "I didn't heal myself, you healed me."

Still holding her other hand he reached out to cup her face. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes.

"All I knew was that I couldn't lose my safe haven." he whispered softly and that's all it took for her to fall into his arms.

She clung to his shirt, buried her face in the curve of his neck and started sobbing. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her on his lap and started rocking her gently. He loved how warm and familiar she felt in his hold, how solid and safe she was. He pressed a loving, desperate kiss on the crown of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"I love you so much." he mumbled into her skin. Rachel shivered and hugged him tighter.

"I love you, too."

Dick leaned away and took her face in his hands, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Let's get outta here, huh? We need to get you cleaned up."

She glanced at the blood on her clothes, then moved her gaze to his own bloody shirt and jacket.

"You don't look exactly better, you know?"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, thanking God she was still here.

"Yeah, it was my favorite jacket. Now I have to burn it." they both laughed, happy to relax and lighten up, but looking at her face made him worried again. "You sure you're okay?"

Instead of answering Rachel stood up on her own and reached a hand out to him.

"Definitely."

He took it gratefully and got up to his feet, then immediately pulled her closer, crushing her to him.

"I am never letting you go again." he said, his voice hoarse and heavy from emotion.

Rachel melted into him and took a deep breath.

"Please, don't."

Over her head he noticed Bruce standing by the church's door. His father smiled proudly at him and nodded, then slowly turned around and walked out, disappearing in the light of day.

#dc titans #titans #titans season 1 #titans season 2 #titans season 3 #dcu titans #dick grayson #rachel roth #slade wilson #deathstroke

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