#But then I thought “wait if the gods can’t go to Alaska then can they go to other countries?” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shewastheheart · 2 years ago

Note

can you please write another carlesme one shot? pretty please? i love the way you write them

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind words! Of course! I'm not sure if this is even close to what you may have had in mind, but there's this idea I've been turning over in my head about Carlisle having had a different path and well...

They’d heard the rumors, the talk of an angel of death amidst their world, but they considered themselves somewhat off the grid. ‘Vegetarians’, their friends from various covens considered them, dismissive and pitying.

And they were, for the most part.

But no matter how little they participated in the typical happenings of a vampiric lifestyle, that did not protect them from the all seeing eyes of the Volturi, the whimsical laws of their world.

He receives his orders and sets out within the day to the United States. He studies the maps and the file he was given. He replays the instructions Aro gave him over and over again in his perfect memory.

It is time again, dear brother, to do what God has put you here for. To excavate the earth of its horrors by donning the horror yourself. End the suffering they bring.

The words never sat well with him, no matter how many different ways Aro chose to rephrase them each time he sent him out on these missions. In his 300 years, his work has dwindled, and he has been grateful, but - according to Aro - the Lord’s work is never done.

“Go forth and do His work,” Aro would smile. “Sweet angel of death.”

Esme is perched in her favorite tree, far into the forest and high into the sky, painting the early morning dawn rising before her on a canvas. Her paints are balanced precariously on a nearby branch, but they hold steady once her paintbrush departs the palette.

“Esme?”

She inclines her head in acknowledgement without taking her eyes from the artwork she attempts.

“Yes?” she replies, breaking the silence of the morning as Edward climbs up into the tree beside her.

His body is long and lanky, rough and awkward at times, causing the limbs to shutter and shake beneath his weight. Birds take flight at the disturbance, chirping in irritation at her son.

“I... I was thinking about heading down to Alaska for the week.”

Esme pauses, retracting her brush from the board to glance over at him, the downcast eyes and sheepish look. Technically, she is older than him, born in 1895, while he had not entered the earth until 1901, but his life stopped seventeen years later, while hers carried on a near ten more. Though, in vampiric years, he will always exceed her, his experience greater and more expansive.

He's been seventeen for just shy of one hundred years. She’s been part of the living dead for barely eighty.

Yet, in moments like these, he looks ever the boy he was the day his heart stopped beating.

“What’s happened, Edward?” she inquires, placing her supplies on the branch holding her paint and turning to face him.

“Nothing, nothing, I just...” He pauses, doesn’t speak for a long while, and she doesn’t push him. If she’s learned anything in these last eight decades, it’s to let him think it all through.

Edward is special, she’s always known that even before he explained his abilities to her. He can hear everything, every thought in every person’s mind. She knows how loud it can be for him in his own head. So she waits, patiently letting him sort through the chaos crowding his mind.

“There’s a girl.”

She nearly falls off the tree in glee.

“Esme.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” she grins, quickly covering it with her palm.

“It’s torture, mother,” he growls. “She’s human, she’s annoyingly persistent, and I can’t hear her.”

He lists the issues off on his long fingers, sounding so much like a troubled teenager in that painstaking moment, but his face looking absolutely agonized.

“And her blood - it’s different, it’s stronger than the others, it’s-” He huffs and buries his face in his hands.

Esme eases across the distance from her tree to his, sidling up next to him.

“I - you know, I always wondered when you would find your mate, so maybe-”

“She’s human,” Edward groans into the cove of his palms. “She can’t be. She can’t. I won’t allow this.”

“Okay, okay,” she hushes him, placing a tentative hand on his back. “We’ll figure this out. It’s going to be okay, son.”

Ever so slightly, he relaxes into the weight of her slim hand on his shoulder blade.

Just in time for him to be knocked from the branch.

It was easy enough to find the home located deep in the Washington woods, the impressive structure made from wood and glass. A beautiful home, one he almost felt guilty to destroy.

He would have to burn it once he was done here.

Finding its occupants was a simple next step, his silent travel through the surrounding forest leading him to the murmur of their voices.

The two of them sat high in a tree, sharing a branch and apparently so engrossed in a conversation that they fail to hear him quietly scaling the trunk a few feet behind theirs.

He decides to take out the male first, lunging across the distance and seamlessly knocking him from the branch from behind.

They go sailing to the forest floor, crashing to the ground in a shattering fall that carries the sounds of an earthquake.

His element of surprise did the job, taking the man completely off guard. His opponent sputters before fighting back, slipping from Carlisle’s tight grip.

“Who are you?” the other man - the boy, he looks to be just a boy - chokes out, spewing dirt from his mouth.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Carlisle Cullen,” the boy snaps before Carlisle can make his next move, causing him a moment of pause. “Who - who are the Volturi?”

“How do you know that?”

“I - I heard it, in your mind,” the boy says quickly, arms up and ready to brace against Carlisle’s next attack.

The words shock him into stillness.

“You - you can read my thoughts?”

He doesn’t get to hear the boy’s answer. In the next second, an iron grip hooks around his neck, flings him into the nearest tree.

He grunts as he hits the tree and then the ground, the force impressive. He’s not used to the women being as great of a problem-

Carlisle ascends from the forest floor by the grip on his neck, a forearm cutting into his larynx as he’s pinned to the splintered spine of a tree at his back.

The sight before him would steal his breath if he had the oxygen stored in his lungs.

Yes, he saw her on the tree before his attack, but the glance hardly compared to this view of her blazing eyes level with his, the curls of caramel locks whipping his cheeks in the wind, and the scent of honeysuckles assaulting his senses.

“Touch my son again, and I will singlehandedly destroy you. Piece by piece,” she tells him, her voice calm but razor sharp.

She applies a jerk of pressure and he feels an alarming crack fissure along the side of his throat.

“Esme.” The boy’s voice at her back, his hand on her shoulder. “Esme, he’s not going to hurt us. Not right now, anyway.”

Those fiery eyes assess his face, holding his for a long moment before easing the pressure.

It feels terribly wrong, but all he can think in that split second is that he wouldn’t mind if this is how his life finally concluded.

The woman releases Carlisle with a huff and instantly moves to the boy, her son.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She’s checking over him like a true mother hen, fluttering around him like an anxious bird.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” the boy brushes her off, but he can sense the warmth of appreciation in his tone.

And with that assurance, she’s spinning on her heel, the sundress she wears fluttering around her calves.

“Who the hell are you and what do you think you’re doing?” she snarls, approaching him with that gorgeous fury back in place.

“Carlisle Cullen,” he says stupidly, stopping himself before he can hold a hand out to her. “I - I was sent here on assignment. Whenever we learn of certain individuals of our kind engaging in the most gruesome of sin, it is my job to handle the problem.”

“Sin?” she echoes incredulously.

“It was reported that you - your coven - are a threat to mankind-”

“We are all a threat to mankind,” she snaps, advancing on him again. “Some more than others, but certainly not us. Neither I, nor Edward have touched a human in over fifty years, so you and your employer need to either get your facts straight or update your records. Because you’re in the wrong place.”

It’s then that he notes her eyes.

Amber. A fiery brown like whiskey, flecks of gold around her pupils alive and sparking at him.

Far from red.

A quick glance to the boy, Edward, tells him the same.

“You abstain from human blood?”

Her eyes roll, but he notices a slight softening to her posture, a gentling to the maternal fury he evoked.

“Like I said, it’s been decades. I was the last to falter, shortly after my transformation. Since then, we have survived only on animals,” she clarifies, stepping back to stand closer to Edward.

“Not to mention, Esme goes for only the weakest and oldest,” Edward mutters, earning a swift elbow to the side.

“I don’t understand,” Carlisle murmurs, more to himself than the pair before him.

Aro had said the two he was to kill were menacing to the Pacific Northwest region of the United States, their bloodlust uncontained despite multiple warnings. He was shown pictures, blurred but clear enough to match the woman and the man before him.

The location matched, the identities, but... if what Edward and Esme says is true-

“He lied to you,” Edward cut in, finishing the thought he didn’t want to have. The onslaught of memories, the suspicions he’s pushed away for years, centuries, following and causing his skull to ache. “He likely always has been.”

“There’s no reason for him to...” But he can’t finish the argument. Aro loves control, power, more than all else. Is it possible he has somehow been keeping track of any and all vampires who may pose even the potential of a threat to that power and then ordered Carlisle to destroy them before the risk could grow?

“You are providing them with an act of mercy, Carlisle,” Aro had told him the first time he had made such a request. “Like Gabriel, the angelic messenger of God, you are delivering the good news that their suffering is over. To die at your hands, to be done with this eternal damnation... you are curing them of a plague none of us asked for.”

“Then why do we continue on, brother?” Carlisle had asked, noting himself, Aro, the court of vampires among them.

Aro had not missed a beat.

“Why, to keep order. This sickness, this spread of immortality will never end. Not truly. We cannot selfishly end our own lives and leave this earth to perish at the hands of the damned. It is our responsibility, our cross to bear, to continue. To fight the evils and keep them at bay. It is God’s will.”

Carlisle slumps backwards against the tree.

“We hold court over this hellish earth,” Aro explained to him softly. “And then we send you, an angel of mercy and death all in one, to cull it of what few demons we can. What other purpose could us, the damned, serve?”

He is a fool, to have ever believed that Aro ever gave a damn to what God would expect of them.

“Your leader, Aro, must have learned of my abilities somehow.”

Carlisle thought of Alice, the poor girl who often stuck close to him, whom Aro used to see futures and follies they were supposed to prevent.

“She must have seen you. Known your decision,” Carlisle surmises, no longer needing to explain the entirety of his thoughts with Edward reading them. He only explains further for the benefit of Esme. “Alice can see the future. She can see the decisions of others before they are even made. Aro - he told me Alice was able to see the wrongdoings of those I was sent out to... end.”

Now he understood why he and Alice were never allowed a moment alone. Why she always looked so pained, so stricken, each time he left for a job.

Carlisle slides down to the ground, thumping his head back against the hard bark of the tree.

He is no angel, only a monster.

It is not until the woman, Esme, crouches in front of him that time takes on meaning again.

“Carlisle?” she calls gently, the outrage gone from her face.

It’s the first time she’s said his name and he can’t deny it’s the most wondrous thing he’s ever heard. It’s a peculiar feeling, that even through his sudden grief, his upheaval of self-loathing, the proximity of this woman, the sound of his name in her mouth, is like a lightning bolt of clarity through his senses.

“Would it be too late,” he inquires hoarsely. “To request for you to destroy me piece by piece after all?”

Her brow creases in concern, the lovely line of her mouth turning downwards.

“There’s only one reason I would do that and something tells me you mean no harm to me or my son any longer.”

He scoffs, rubbing a hand down his jaw. “No. I never - I never meant harm to anyone. I thought I was... what a fool I am. To think I was doing a favor to my victims, doing what had to be done. A sick, masochistic fool.”

“You wanted to die from the moment you came into this existence,” Edward supplies from behind Esme. “You were only doing what you were told, doing what you thought your only purpose was.”

Carlisle shakes his head. “That doesn’t excuse it. Not at all.”

“No, but it offers understanding to your actions,” Esme tells him, her eyes soft now, golden like honey.

“You hated this,” Edward adds, his head tilting, eyes scrutinizing. The boy was completely in his head now, reading through every putrid thought. “Even though you hate what you are, a vampire, you despised killing the others. I even sensed your guilt as soon as you tackled me.”

“I tried to make it quick,” Carlisle chokes out. averting his eyes from Esme. He can’t look at her, not while he talks about this. “To take a life like that... mortal or not, it felt wrong. It always felt wrong.”

The sudden, feather light brush of a touch on his bent knee, brings his attention back to the present, to the woman in front of him.

“You don’t have to be that anymore,” Esme says ever so softly to him. It feels like something inside of him is splitting open, some dormant, suppressed part of him that died the day his humanity did. He somehow feels as if he is alive again.

No longer an ‘angel’ of death, a grim reaper, a husk of a human. He could be more, he could be what he always wished he could be, do something better with his abilities. More than Aro allowed, more than he himself ever allowed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to her, to them both. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’ll be okay, Carlisle,” Edward promises, no doubt sensing the overwhelm of panic in his mind. “You’ll be fine.”

The boy’s gaze falls to Esme and so Carlisle follows it and has the overwhelming urge to believe the words.

It’ll be okay.

If their kind could cry, she thinks Carlisle would be sobbing. He looks stricken, so destroyed by himself, his realizations. His brown eyes - a coppery shine with not a hint of red to them - have darkened severely over the hours.

She sits in front of him for those passing hours, one hand on his knee like an anchor. Part of her is afraid that if she lets go, he’ll drift away into the darkest parts of his mind that she knows Edward examines as they speak.

When morning turns to night, Edward offers to leave them for a hunt, reluctant at first, but they are both hungry. They were supposed to go earlier this morning, after she finished painting.

“You can go,” she assures him. “Carlisle won’t hurt me.”

Carlisle’s eyes flick up to find hers, a hint of horror at the mere thought, she’s sure.

Edward nods. “I know. I’ll be right back.”

In a flash of movement, he’s gone.

“Is he really your son?” Carlisle asks, staring into the swaying branches the boy left in his wake.

“Not biologically, no,” she answers. finally releasing his patella to fold her own legs beneath her. “Edward turned me in the 1920s.”

Carlisle’s brow arches.

“It wasn’t an easy decision for him,” she’s quick to add. “He hides it well, but I know he still feels guilt for it, still questions if he made the right decision.”

“May I ask what happened?”

Esme nods. “My husband and I, we were visiting Chicago. That’s where Edward is from, where he had been living since he was turned a few years earlier. My husband, Charles, he... he wasn’t a good man.” She instinctively begins to rub the mended bone of her wrist, one of the many bones he broke that final night. “We had gone to see a movie, he had been drinking, and after the film ended, he took me out into the back alley, beat me until I was nearly dead.”

She feels Carlisle stiffening before her, but she doesn’t dare look up until she’s finished.

“All I remember, all that Edward told me, is Charles being wrenched off of me. I had already passed out when Edward bit me.” She flips her hand, allowing Carlisle to see the two half moons healed on the inside of her wrist. “Edward used to hang around the city, targeting rapists and murderers. And abusive husbands, it seems.” She swipes her thumb over the scarred flesh. “He was wracked with guilt when I awoke a couple of days later, couldn’t stop apologizing long enough to explain what had even happened to me. The thirst took over, I made my first kill soon after.”

Esme swallows hard, never wanting to remember the face of the life she took, the innocent man walking outside that fateful day. But she’ll never forget it.

“We decide to move after that.”

“Here?” Carlisle asks, his voice gentle.

“No, Wisconsin first. Then Wyoming. Now Washington. Fans of the W’s apparently,” she jokes, finally risking a glance up to Carlisle’s face. “Edward’s only seventeen, but he’s been seventeen for nearly a century.”

“You’re a good mother to him,” Carlisle offers, a tentative half-smile tugging at his lips. The first she’s seen since meeting him.

“I try to be,” she murmurs, her lips rising to match his. “I love him as if he’s mine. I always have.”

“I’m sorry again, for how we had to meet,” he sighs, eyes falling to his lap.

“Then let’s change it.”

Esme extends her hand. Carlisle looks up confused, so she flicks her eyes to her hand, wiggles her fingers until he gingerly slides his palm into hers.

She ignores the ridiculous flutter in her stomach that she doesn’t quite understand.

“Hi,” she smiles at him. “I’m Esme Platt.”

His eyes shine for her.

“Carlisle Cullen,” he replies, giving her hand a tender shake.

“Pleasure to meet you. Now tell me your story, Carlisle Cullen.”

She draws her hand back to her lap, leans forward ready to listen, but he hesitates.

“It’s not a very good one.”

“I told you mine,” she huffs, watching his eyes cut to hers with a sparkle of amusement at her tone. “I won’t judge.”

She waits him out until he finally sighs, leans back into the tree as if getting comfortable.

“I was born in London, in the 1640s.”

#twilight fanfiction #esme cullen #carlisle cullen #esme x carlisle #carlesme #prompt!#my writing #okay so it was supposed to be a one shot #but then it grew #and now I'm 10k in #i'm sorry!#i can write shorter things i promise

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Text

Dummy

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter is the only one of the Avengers who doesn’t tease you for being a little slow

Masterlist

Now you weren’t exactly dumb.

You were just a little slow.

When you joined the Avengers last year, the team learned pretty quickly that your mind moved at a different pace than everyone else. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing and it didn’t keep you from doing your job, it just meant you were the butt of most of the jokes. Every time one of your blunders happened, your intelligence would be mocked in some way. You knew it was all in good fun, but it hurt to it feelings every now and then. The only person who never poked fun at you was Peter. And for that reason, he was your favorite on the team.

“How are there 23 minutes left in this movie and I still don’t know any of the characters names?” Steve wondered as you all sat in the couch in Stark Towers, watching a movie on a particularly rainy afternoon.

“I think the main kids name is Phoenix. That’s all I got though.” Sam shook his head, just as confused as Steve.

“The dogs name is Benson.” Bucky mumbled quietly.

“Who names their kid Phoenix?” Peter wondered out loud as he shoveled popcorn into his mouth. The two of you were tucked into the corner of the couch, sharing a blanket and bowl of popcorn. You looked at him like he was crazy when you heard his question.

“Ummm, Joaquin Phoenix’s parents.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You turned your attention back to the movie as a silence settled in the room. You felt everyone’s eyes on you after a minute and looked around to see everyone staring at you with a dumbfounded expression.

“What?” You asked shyly, shrinking down a little in your seat in discomfort.

“That’s his last name.” Sam stated, chuckling a little under his breath. You realized your mistake and felt your face heat up.

“Oh.” You mumbled, your voice getting drowned out as the rest of the Avengers laughed at your expense.

“Did she really just say that?” Nat looked at the group with a playful smile. Everyone, excluding Peter, nodded as their laughter died down.

“Oh my God.” Steve chuckled. “That’s so stupid.”

There was that word again.

He didn’t mean it maliciously. Steve was the kinda of guy who ushered spiders into a magazine so he could let them outside. And yet, it still stung when he said that word.

Stupid.

You smiled sheepishly and tried to focus on the movie, snuggling closer to Peters side until it ended. You were fully aware that he was the only one who didn’t laugh, and you loved him that.

And maybe you loved him for a few other reasons too.

“Alright. Who has money for the subway?” Sam asked the group as he patted his empty pockets. You were on another late night trip to get cookies from a specific shop in Times Square, leaving without Tony’s knowledge. Everyones hands went to their pockets and collectively made a face.

“Not me.” Rhodey shrugged.

“I don’t have any.” Bruce added.

“I don’t even have pockets.” Nat realized.

“I have gum.” Peter proudly produced a silver wrapper from his pocket. “Oh wait, it’s just a wrapper.”

“You’re telling me we’re earth’s mightiest heroes and we’re broke?” Sam shook his head is disdain.

“I gave my last dollar to a guy in the subway for playing music.” Peter defended himself.

“What was he playing?” You asked him as you tiredly leaned against his arm.

“A mandolin.” Peter answered, making your face scrunch up.

“That’s a language.” You laughed at him slightly, feeling empowered by having the upper hand. Everyone looked at you and a few of them snorted.

“Mandarin is a language.” Bruce said gently, not wanting to embarrass you further. “Not mandolin.”

“What?” You blinked in confusion and looked to Peter for answers.

“A mandolin is an instrument, dummy.” Sam chortled. You smiled tightly as the group laughed at your mistake, looking down to hide your blush.

“Oh. Sorry. My bad.” You laughed shyly as you tucked your hair behind your ear and pretending to read a nearby sign.

“That’s okay.” Peter spoke up in your defense. “They sound really similar. Plus like, French, French Horn. Who knows what’s going on?”

“Yeah.” Bucky said softly. “Or like, bra’s aren’t pointy anymore.”

Bruce nodded like it made perfect sense and Sam just shook his head as he texted.

“What?” You whispered to Peter, not knowing what he meant.

“He’s from the 1920s. He’s still adjusting.” Peter whispered to you out of the corner of his mouth before looking at Bucky. “That’s the spirit. Kind of.”

“FRIDAY is sending a car.” Sam informed the group. “This is never happening again. The cookies aren’t that good.”

“They’re pretty good.” Rhodey shrugged, but wanting the late Nate tradition to end. Sam looked at him for a moment before breaking into a smile.

“Hell yeah they are. Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

Bruce found you in the lab the next day with a pin between your teeth and a pencil behind your ear. Papers with drawings of suits were scattered around the table as you measured a piece of black fabric.

“What are you doing?” Bruce wondered as he took a seat across from you. You glanced up at him before marking a dot on the fabric.

“Mr. Stark asked me to help him with the new suits. I’m trying to make a fabric template for Nat’s gloves.” You told him as you smoothed the fabric out.

“Is it hard?” He asked, watching you intently as you worked.

“Not really.” You shrugged and took a step back to examine your work. “Okay. How many holes do we need? 1,2,3,4,5.” You counted your fingers. “Okay. Five holes.”

You sat back down and put five dots where her fingers would be to mark where you had to cut. You heard a slight chuckle from Bruce and looked up at him curiously.

“Did you just count your fingers?” He asked slowly, wanting to make sure he saw what he thought he had. “To know how many fingers Nat has?”

Your face burned when you realized how dumb you looked, in front of a scientific genius no less.

“Oh, Uh, yeah.” You stammered, feeling very insecure with him watching you now. You moved slower than before and second guessed moves you’d already made a hundred times. Bruce sensed your discomfort and got out of his seat, tapping the table twice as he thought.

“Have you ever heard the expression “the lights are on but nobody’s home’?” He asked you and you were grateful he changed the subject.

“Yeah, I think I have.” You smiled, proud of yourself for knowing something.

“It reminds me of you.” Bruce said so politely that you didn’t realize it was an insult at first. He left the lab to find Tony, leaving you feeling embarrassed and a little hurt. Everyone knew Bruce could hurt you ten times worse with his words than the Hulk could with his fists, you’d just never been his target before. You slumped down in your seat and continued making the gloves, your mood significantly dampened from before he came in the room.

You walked into the kitchen the next morning, sleepily rubbing your eyes. You pressed a chaste kiss on Peters shoulder as you passed him, also more affectionate to your best friend when you were half asleep. You smiled at Rhodey, who was seated at the bar and skimming through a newspaper.

“Did you eat yet?” You asked him through a yawn as you got out yogurt and fruit for yourself.

“No. I needed my coffee first.” He smiled sleepily at you and held up his mug.

“Oh, you mean your sugar with a spoonful of coffee?” You teased him. “Yeah, it’s good you got that out of the way.”

“I prefer it this way. The sugar wakes me up.” Peter defended his drink as he took a sip.

“That’s what the caffeine is supposed to do, mi amor.” You laughed as you ruffled his bed head ridden hair. He was about to make a comeback when his stomach rumbles loudly.

“Someone’s hungry.” You remarked. “Do you want eggs?”

“No thanks.” Peter shook his head. “I can’t eat eggs alone.”

“Well I’m here. And Rhodey’s right there, so you’re not alone.” You told him. “And I can grab Steve and Bucky. They’re just in the other room.”

Rhodey looked up from his newspaper with raised eyebrows and looked at Peter. Peter set his mug down and made a face at Rhodey that told him not to say anything. You looked between the two of them in confusion as you wondered what was going on.

“I meant alone as in without toast, sweetness.” Peter said gently, not wanting you to feel dumb for misunderstanding. “But I am glad you’re here.”

“Oh.” You faked a smile and shrugged like it was no big deal. Peter had handled the situation with ease and you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you normally would. That is until…

“You know, Y/n, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” Rhodey nodded before going back to his newspaper. You froze with your spoonful of yogurt midway to your mouth and looked at him. He didn’t actually call you dumb, but it was implied. You looked at Peter to see if he was thinking the same thing, but his face had nothing but kindness on it.

“You are pretty.” He agreed with Rhodey. “But you’re a lot of other things too.”

You cracked a smile and rubbed his back for a moment in appreciation.

“Thanks Peter.” You said softly and went back to your breakfast. Not wanting to worry him, you ignored the way Rhodey’s comment made you feel and tried to push it from your mind. But no hard you tried to focus on other things, you had one thought prodding at the back of your head.

You were dumb.

A week went by without anyone poking fun at your intelligence. You had a sneaking suspicion Peter had something to do with the lack of comments, but you said nothing. It was nice to have a break from all the teasing and it made hanging out with the team more enjoyable. You all lingered around the kitchen one day, eating all different kinds of lunch when Tony came in the room.

“Eat up, funky bunch.” He clapped his hands. “We have a mission in Alaska to train for and I need all hands on deck. Cap, do you think you can teach Peter that spinny thingy you do?”

“I can try.” Steve looked at Peter and nodded.

“Great. I’m getting a manicure. I’ll be back around noon.” Tony informed you all.

“Wait, I thought you said all hands on deck.” You tilted your head at him.

“I did. Which I why I have to make sure my hands look the best.” Tony waved flirtatiously, wiggling his fingers around like a teenage girl. He smirked as his action was met with some eye rolls and a few chuckles before leaving the room.

“I can’t believe we’re going to Alaska.” Peter nudged you excitedly and you smiled with glee.

“Is Alaska the same as the North Pole? Or am I thinking of Antarctica?” Sam wondered out loud.

“No. The North Pole is all the way at the top. Alaska is below California. Like by Texas.” You said confidently, proud that you knew information that someone else didn’t. Your pride quickly dissipated when you saw the teams faces twist in amusement.

“Wait a minute.” Steve looked at you like you were joking. You shrugged, letting him know you weren’t. Sam burst out laughing and clapped his hands as the rest of the team began to laugh.

“Absolutely not.” Sam grinned as he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Yes it is.” You insisted. “Look at any US map. It’s on the bottom by Hawaii.”

You were getting angry now. You knew you were right this time and they were still teasing you.

“No.” Bucky shook his head is dismissal. “No.”

“Alaska is below California on every map I’ve ever seen. You’re telling me I’m wrong?” You our your hand on your hip and stared at them.

“100%. I am 100% telling you you’re wrong.” Sam said between his laughter. Peter came to your side and showed you a picture of a map on his phone.

“Alaska is US territory but it’s not connected to the rest of the states. They just put it below California on maps to show it’s a part of the US. Thats not actually where it’s located.” He said quietly. You looked at the map for a few seconds before you realized he was right. And if he was right…

You were wrong.

“Oh.” You smiled apologetically and averted your eyes. “Oops.”

You turned around and pretending to clean up the kitchen to hide your searing blush. Your fingers clenched around your sponge when you heard the teasing laughter from behind you.

“Sometimes I wonder how you made it out of high school.” Steve joked as he threw out the crusts of his sandwich. The comment stung you and you began to scrub the counter faster so you could leave the room sooner. Peter could see your shoulders tense and put a reassuring hand on your back. You gave him a tight lipped smiled before putting your dish in the sink.

“I’m still wondering how she made it out of first grade.” Nat teased you and she poked your side.

“I can’t believe she made it out of the womb in the first place with nobody telling her where to go.” Sam said, making everyone laugh loudly. You abruptly threw a dish in the sink, making everyone go silent. You tuned around slowly and faked a smile.

“Haha. Yeah.” You forced a laugh. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

You swiftly left the room before anyone could catch your tears. You felt stupid for even getting upset over it, but their words hurt. Feeling like you were always the dumbest person in the room was taking a toll on you, especially when you weren’t the only one who felt that way. Peter watched you leave with sympathetic eyes, feeling his own frustration bubble at the sound of the team laughing at you. He thought they had listened the first time he told them to stop making fun of you, but they clearly hadn’t. After seeing the pained look on your face, Peter made a decision.

It was never going to happen again.

“Ugh. I’m never gonna get this right.” Peter groaned as he messed up the move Steve was trying to teach him once again.

“You’re getting too much inside your head. Just let it happen naturally.” Steve instructed as he resumed his stance. Peter tried the move again, wiping out and landing on his side with a thud. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you spared with Nat.

“I can’t.” Peter got up and rubbed his arm. “I can’t do it.”

Steve nodded, like he was accepting Peters defeat. You stopped sparing and looked at Peter.

“Yes you can. Come on, Peter.” You encouraged him. “Everyone told Van Gogh that he couldn’t be an artist because he only had one ear but he did it anyway.”

The room feel silent, as it often did when you spoke, and everyone looked down.

“Oh dear Lord.” Rhodey sighed and hung his head and he snickered. You could see everyone else fighting back laughter or cracking a smile, yet saying nothing.

“What?” You crossed your arms in annoyance, looming to Peter for help.

“He chopped his ear off after becoming an artist.” Peter said kindly. “He wasn’t born without one.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Tony beat you to it.

“Speaking of ears, do you think of you shone a light in one of Y/n’s ears, it would come out the other ear?” Tony quipped, making everyone laugh. The tips of your ears burned as that feeling of stupidity sunk in again. You undid the Velcro on your boxing gloves and pretended to wipe sweat from your face as you rushed to the bin where the gloves went. You kept your back to the group and pretending to be putting your gloves away when you were really concealing your pained expression.

“Yes.” Nat jeered. “Yes I do.”

Your shoulders slumped with exhaustion as you turned around, making every effort to keep your face neutral. Your face didn’t give away any signs of sadness, but your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping the bin gave your true feelings away. Peter noticed this and felt his jaw clench. If you weren’t gonna tell them to stop, he was.

“Leave her alone, guys.” He commanded the crowd before looking at you. “Thanks for the encouragement, Y/n. I’m gonna keep trying.”

“It’s fine.” You nodded curtly. “I’m gonna hit the showers. I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

You walked out of the gym, pausing in place when you heard Sams voice.

“Hit the showers?” He laughed. “We just started.”

“Shhh. Don’t confuse the poor girl any further.” Bruce joked back. You looked back at the gym with your eyebrows knit together, taking a quiet step closer to hear what they were saying about you without you there.

“She’s probably like, ‘whats this magic closet that makes rain?’” Rhodey imitated your voice, making you sound as dense as possible.

“Knock it off guys. It’s not funny.” Peter snapped, but the teasing continued.

“Or like, ‘this shampoo says it adds volume, but I used it and I can’t hear any louder than before’.” Tony mocked you, skipping around a little like a child. Your face contorted in misery as they made fun of you. You knew who they really were, and they were good people. They didn’t intend to hurt your feelings, they were only joking around like they did with everyone. Steve was teased all the time for his old fashioned dialect and no one lets Tony live down the kimono incident. Still, all their insults and mockery cut you like a knife.

“Ahh, I love that girl.” Nat shook her head with a smile. “She’s so dumb.”

“She may be slow, but she’s entertaining as hell.” Sam nodded in agreement.

“I said knock it off.” Peter repeated, getting a reaction this time.

“Aw. Peters mad because we’re teasing his girlfriend.” Nat pouted and pinched Peters cheek. She quickly realized how wholesome she was being and punched Bucky in the face to maintain her lethal assassin persona.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter grumbled. Now that you were out of the room, he was the next target.

“He’s right. Hey, maybe that’s why you guys haven’t gotten together yet.” Rhodey shrugged. “She’s too stupid to realize you’re in love with her.”

That was all you had to hear. You ran towards your with tears running down your face. Thanks to Peters advanced heating, he heard every heavy footstep.

“Okay. Maybe she is a little slow.” Peter shook his head in disdain at the team. “But you guys are idiots.”

You were quiet the entire way to Alaska, keeping to yourself and silently looking out the window. Peter attempted to talk to you once or twice, but he could tell you wanted to be alone. The Avengers completed the mission within a few hours with minor damage to the area. Peter focused on his job but found himself looking for you every now and then, being as you usually stayed together during missions. He didn’t see you anywhere and assumed you were doing your own thing on the other side of the field. He heart rest assured when he saw you boarding the jet, still looking reserved and aloof from the rest of the team. You took a seat by the window and rested your chin on your hand, looking out at the bleak landscape in front of you as the jet took off. Peter didn’t engage in small talk with the rest of the team and wistfully stared at you instead, silently willing you to cheer up.

“I think that went pretty well.” Rhodey nodded and the team agreed. “But where were you the whole time, Y/n? Picking daisies?”

Peter held his breath as you slowly turned around. You gave Rhodey a frigid smile and shook your head.

“We came during a blizzard so I used my powers to create a heated force field around the area we were in to prevent frostbite and give you guys and easier time seeing in the snow. We were also at a higher altitude than any of us are used to so I kept the air pressure to sea level standard.” You said simply. “And I assumed there would be smoke from the battle so I rounded up the nearby animals and made a separate for field around them to protect their lungs.”

The room went silent, something you were used to at this point. But instead of everyone falling silent because they were laughing at you, they were impressed.

“Oh.” Rhodey blinked in surprise, not expecting the answer he was given.

“I also picked this flower.” You smiled proudly as you produced a Forget Me Not from your lap. Peter couldn’t keep the grin from breaking through on his face. You were the center of attention once again, but in a good way this time. Everyone was pleasantly surprised with what you had done and it showed.

“I didn’t think about the altitude.” Nat realized.

“I had no idea there was a blizzard.” Steve added, looking dumbfounded.

“Because I kept you from knowing.” You shrugged. “I wanted you guys to focus on the mission.”

“I mean, I knew. I just didn’t tell you guys because I was so distracted by my buffed and polished nails.” Tony twiddled his fingers again, showing off his freshly manicured nails. You all laughed, breaking the tension in the jet.

“Well look at that.” Sam looked impressed. “Y/n knew something we didn’t.”

It was almost a compliment, but it still made you feel insecure. You didn’t want it to be this mind boggling every time you did something useful.

“Thanks, Y/n. That was really smart.” Peter said softly as he patted your knee. You put your hand over his and squeezed it. It was the first time someone called your smart, and it made you feel good.

“It was really smart.” Sam said skeptically. He stared at you for a moment before poking your side.

“What are you doing?” You swatted his hand away.

“Just making sure you’re still in there.” He eyed you suspiciously. Peter could sense the attention was making you uncomfortable and changed the subject.

“Are we almost home?” He asked Tony before peering out the window. The flight was a little over 7 hours on a normal plane, but the Stark jet was much quicker. The flight would only take a few hours, but Peter was not known for being patient.

“Yes, Peter. We are almost back at the tower. You can get your diaper changed and your bottle as soon as we get back.” Tony sassed him, making him shrink in his seat. Your body language had completely changed and your were now sitting straight, facing the group. Peter was glad you were feeling better and didn’t even mind Tony’s comment.

“Guys, let’s be civil. We’re all tired. We all want to get home.” You said calmly. “Let’s just focus on how pretty the sky looks tonight. Isn’t is pretty, Peter?”

He gazed at your profile as you looked out the window at the stars, admiring how pretty you looked from the side.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.” He conceded without ever taking his eyes off you. You shot him a smile before looking straight ahead at the dashboard.

“Wow, the moon is huge!” You pointed time a large yellow crescent that could be seen through the window.

“That’s literally the reflection of my banana on the windshield.” Tony deadpanned. He may have been right, but it still looked pretty.

“Should we make a wish?” You asked Peter, ignoring Tony’s comment.

“On the banana?” He asked.

“Yes.” You nodded. “On the banana.”

“Why?” Rhodey asked. “It’s not like people wish on the moon.”

“It feels like we should.” You said with confidence.

“Yep. She’s still in there.” Sam chuckled. And just like that, your confidence receded.

“I hate it here.” Bucky sighed heavily and tuned out of the conversation.

“It must be so peaceful being you, Y/n.” Tony remarked.

“Why do you say that?” You wondered.

“Because instead of thinking about your problems and mistrials, you simply don’t think at all.” Tony said suavely. In only a better for minutes, you’d gone from being the hero to the laughing stock of the group. The sly comments and taunting laughter made you feel like you should stop opening your mouth entirely. You faked a smile and turned back towards the window, tuning out the rest of the way home. Peter chewed his lip as he stared at you, feeling useless to helping you out. The team just wouldn’t let up, no matter how many times he told them to stop. Knowing you weren’t in the mood to talk, he scooted closer to you and put a comforting hand on your back. You smiled warmly at him and rested your head on his shoulder, listening to him point out the constellations the whole way home.

The next day, you and Peter were sitting in the balcony, working on some new gadgets for Mr. Stark when Peter made a startling discovery.

“Where’s my right web shooter?” Peter stood up in a panic when he realized it was missing. “I left it right here.”

“Maybe a bird carried it off.” You shrugged as you twisted a tiny screw into Peters left web shooter.

“I’m being serious, Y/n.” Peter stated. “Mr. Stark is going to kill me and turn me into a decorative rug if I lost it.”

“I’m being serious too. We live in New York and I see birds around here all the time.” You told him as you continued your work. “And you know the pigeons here are feral. A bird probably stole it to pay for his child support.”

Peter usually entertained your antics and joined in with his own batch of sarcasm, but he wasn’t in the mood. His web shooter was missing and their were actual stakes involved. Without his web shooter, he couldn’t be Spiderman. And without Spider-Man, he couldn’t be an Avenger.

“Can you be serious for once?“ Peter whined, picking up everything on the table to look under it.

“I’m just saying it’s possible, Peter. You never know.” You insisted as you put your screw driver down to help him look. You began looking in the flower pots on the windowsill that you and Peter had planted. Peter stopped his search for a moment, growing angry with you for wasting time. He didn’t know if you were joking around or genuine believed his web shooter was in the flower pots, but it made him frustrated nonetheless. A combination of his lack of sleep and stress over losing the webshooter manifested into a moment of unchecked rage.

“No, it’s not possible.” He snapped. “A bird didn’t steal my web shooter. God, do you have to be so stupid?”

The word hung in the air for a moment, settling in to the both of you. Peters eyes immediately softened, feeling instant regret for what he had said. You stopped trifling through the plants and slowly turned around.

“What?” You asked quietly. Peter tightened his lips into a line and tried to justify what he had said.

“I try to defend you but you make it so hard. Can you help me out a little here and not be so…” He trailed off when he realized he had only made it worse. Your face hardened and you looked disappointed in Peter, which killed him. He would have preferred anger or even sadness, but the disappointment killed him.

“So what?” You shrugged. “Finish your sentence Peter.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“No, really, go ahead.” You stated coldly. “You got this far. So what, Peter?”

He looked at you for a moment, getting that feeling of wishing you could turn back time just a few seconds to fix a mistake.

“So dumb all the time.” He finished his sentence with an unsteady voice. Your face scrunched up in a pained expression as you sucked in and let out a shaky breath.

“You were the only one who never called me that.” You whimpered before moving past him and going inside. Peter watched you through the open balcony doors as you disappeared into the hallway with a heavy heart. His mouth was open to apologize, but you were long gone. He’d seen you being ridiculed so many times already, and now he was the one doing it. All that talk about it never happening again, only for him to be the reason it happened. Peter couldn’t live with himself for another minute without you knowing how sorry he was. He took a step towards the doorway until he heard a pigeon land on the table. He watched it curiously for a moment as it pecked at the screwdriver you had been using before picking it up with its beak. It flew over to the edge and began to walk along the railing, still keeping the screwdriver in his mouth. Peter followed the pigeon, walking all the way down the balcony to find a large nest in the corner. He watched as it dropped the screwdriver into its nest, right next to his web shooter.

“Holy shit. A bird stole my web shooter.” Peter said in disbelief. Peter watched as baby pigeons poked out from inside the web shooter to greet the other pigeon.

“Holy shit. A bird stole my web shooter for his kids.” Peters eyes widened even more than they already were. Realized struck him and his shoulders slumped.

“She was right.” He mumbled, angry at himself more than ever. “I yelled at her and she was right.”

Peter wasted no time in rescuing his web shooter from the birds, offering them a nice biodegradable coffee cup in its place, and ran to the kitchen to make you a peace offering. He knocked softly on your door and didn’t wait for an answer before going in.

“I made you this cup of tea as an apology.” Peter stiffly held out a mug with an awkward smile on his face. You looked at Peter from your bed, eyes puffy like you had been crying. You stared at each other for a long time, you with a death glare and Peter with his awkward smile. Neither of you said a word as Peter continued to hold out the mug. After two full minute of silence, a bead of sweat ran down Peters face as he looked around nervously, never breaking his smile. You let out an angry sigh and decided to throw him a bone, crossing the room to accept his mug. You looked into the cup for a moment before looking back at Peter.

“This is empty.” You deadpanned.

“I don’t know how to make tea.” Peter whispered, never breaking eye contact.

“I’ve seen you make it.” You snapped.

“I forgot how to do it.” Peters eyes shifted nervously to the side.

“Bucky was in the kitchen, wasn’t he?”

“I know he hates me.” Peter talked over you as you groaned. “I know he does.”

“Just go away.” You tried to close the door but he kept it open.

“No.” Peter said firmly. “I came in here to apologize.”

“You see this?” You held up the mug for a Peter to see. “It’s my cup of care. And look at that” ,you dumped the cup over, “it’s empty.”

Peter stared at your demonstration with raised eyebrows, surprised that you were still able to be sarcastic when he hurt you. Peter took the mug from your hands and set it on the ground before slowly looking up at your face.

“You’re not stupid.” He said softly with all the sincerity his heart could give. You scoffed and folded your arms, looking to the side when you felt tears sting your eyes.

“Yes I am.” You said like you fully believed it, which was Peters worse fear. “Everyone says so. Even you.”

It hit Peter like a sheet of glass when you looked at him like that.

Like he was someone you didn’t want around.

“I didn’t mean to say that.” Peter apologized. “That is not how I feel. At all.”

“Don’t act like you’ve never thought about saying that before.” You laughed sadly. “Everyone on the team calls me dumb. It was only a matter of time before you did it too.”

“I didn’t mean it.” Peter repeated. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Bullshit.” You snapped. “You’re so full of bullshit.”

“I’m not full of bullshit.” He whined like a child and gave you puppy dog eyes. “I’m full of regret.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as he gave you his best pout, willing you to forgive him. Finally, you caved and cracked a smile.

“I hate you.” You stamped your foot and hung your head, frustrated with yourself for not being able to stay mad at him. Peter opened his arms and you walked into them, arms still folded angrily. You bumped your forehead against his shoulder before moving to rest your chin on it as he wrapped his arms around you. Peter nestled against your hair and sighed, happy that you had forgiven him but still saddened that he had hurt you in the first place. He could see the pile of used tissues on your bed and it killed him to know he made you cry.

“I didn’t mean to call you that. I really didn’t.” He said softly. “I’m the one who’s been trying to stop people from saying that.”

“But they still do it.” You sniffled. “Everyday I get called dumb or stupid or scalene.”

“I think it’s obtuse, not scalene.” Peter reluctantly corrected you. You pulled away and little and let Peter wipe the tears from your face.

“Maybe they’re right.” You shrugged and looked Peter in the eyes. “Maybe I am dumb.”

Peter kept your face between his hands, staring at you for a moment before sighing.

“I once sneezed so many times in a row that I peed my pants.” Peter deadpanned. “I was 17.”

“What?” You chuckled as you wiped your nose.

“I saw Bucky try to take a piece of toast out of the toaster with his metal arm and electrocute himself.” He continued. “And I constantly see Tony bumping into glass doors.”

“I don’t understand.” You squinted your eyes, but sure what point he was trying to make.

“Steve still picks up the phone and asks for the operator. Nat leaves her curling iron plugged in all the time. I do not think Sam knows the address of where we live and I’m pretty sure Rhodey can’t do laundry. He gets all his stuff dry cleaned, even his socks.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You asked.

“Because were all dumb.” Peter concluded. “We all do and say dumb things. You don’t know where Alaska is and no one in this tower can read analog clocks. If we’re all dumb, then maybe none of us are dumb. Or we all are. Who cares?” Peter shrugged, making you laugh. “And you were right. A bird did carry off my web shooter. So no, you’re no dumb. Or stupid. Or obtuse. You’re, uh, you- you…” Peter looked down at he fumbled over his words.

“I’m what?” You raised an eyebrow. You could finish his sentence last time, but this time you were lost.

“You’re…” Peter tampered off again, staring at your confused expression for a moment before pulling you into a kiss. Your hands clenched into a fist and slowly uncurled as you relaxed into the kiss. Peter pulled away too soon and let his eyes flutter open. They met yours and you shared a moment of hesitation, not knowing what happened rest next.

“I’m gonna be honest lovey, I didn’t really have an ending to that sentence.” Peter chris joes softly, his breath fanning your face. “That was mainly improv.”

“You’re pretty good at improv, Parker.” You cracked a smile and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I did a little bit of theater in high school.” He shrugged smugly, making you giggle.

“Mmm. I severely don’t want to hear about that.” You teased before kissing him again.

“Oh, I think you do.” Peter remarked. “Because I once went to the bathroom during intermission with my mic still on and the entire audience heard me peeing.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “You’re so stupid.”

Tag List 🏷

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brightbeautifulthings · 2 years ago

Text

Our Last Echoes by Kate Alice Marshall

"Even the echo of a god is a dangerous thing."

Year Read: 2022

Rating: 5/5

About: Sophia Novak has been told all her life that her mother died in a hospital on the mainland. But Sophie's first memories are of drowning, and the only clue she has about her mom's life is a carved wooden sculpture of a bird that only nests on Bitter Rock, Alaska, an island all but abandoned except for the Landon Avian Research Center. Her mother worked at the center before she died, and Sophia has lied and pestered her way into a summer internship there, where she meets Liam, whose mother runs the research center, and Abby, who's chasing down a mystery of her own. People have been disappearing from Bitter Rock for decades, and the island has good reasons for covering it up. Trigger warnings: character death (on-page, graphic), parent/child/animal death, drowning, body horror, some blood/gore, severe injury, guns, grief.

Thoughts: If you didn't like Rules for Vanishing, this book probably isn't for you. If you liked Rules for Vanishing mostly for its queerness, then this book probably isn't for you. If you liked Rules for Vanishing for its uncanny, found footage horror and the way you can never quite guess where it's going, then you should pick up a copy of this book immediately. I loved everything about Rules for Vanishing and Our Last Echoes both, and as long as Marshall keeps writing horror, I'm going to keep picking up her books. Technically, you can read one without the other, but despite Goodreads' refusal to list them as a series even though they exist in the same universe, I recommend reading them together. It's less about plot or character and more about vibe and overall world-building, but if you were on a ghost road and accidentally stepped sideways into a neighboring dimension, you might find yourself in the middle of Our Last Echoes.

I'm afraid this review is just going to be a lot of gushing about both these books, but it feels like these are exactly the horror novels I've been waiting my whole life to read. Marshall expertly executes the found footage format in the way it's meant to be used, as a way of building tension and layering her mysteries rather than forcing us to look the other way while everything important or exciting happens off camera. Nothing stays buried forever, and this is the genre done very, very well. Like in RfV, there's at least one moment in this book that sent a chill right down my spine. While I didn't find it as scary overall, I love the way nothing ever feels derivative and she's constantly taking the spookiness in new, unexpected directions.

I like Sophia, but I was more invested in her mystery than her character. So much of her personality is based around what happened to her when she was a child, some of which she can't remember, that it's hard to separate the two. My feelings for Abby were a lot stronger, and I loved seeing her take more of a role in the story. I enjoy her attitude, and it's fascinating to have a character who's familiar with the paranormal. If she can't explain it, she's willing to get to the bottom of it. Zero feelings on the romance, which takes a little more attention than the ones in RfV, but that's usually the case for me. I love the way all the layers of the story come together at the end, and given that there are supposedly seven "doorways" like this, I'm crossing my fingers for five more books in this universe. (And, while I'm wishing for things, I'd love a novel about whatever happened to Abby and Miranda, which still seems intentionally vague.)

#book review #our last echoes #kate alice marshall #ya horror #5/5 #2022

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years ago

Note

I know you’ve talked about how all the Cullen pairings are eventually going to implode - glad someone said it - but I was wondering if you wanted to talk a little bit about what you think Meyer INTENDED with the pairings - tropes and whatnot? And what you think would have to change in her narrative to make what was intended what we actually saw on the page? Or — what do you think each cullens’ Perfect Spouse would actually look like?

Anon is referring to this post.

And well, you've certainly given me quite the challenge.

Some Musing Ramblings Before We Begin

Sort of like asking me to make Dramione work, I'm not sure I'm the person to ask this. Anyone who reads my work knows that... well, that's a lie, every story I secretly write is a love story. But it's not Twilight in any way shape or form.

Twilight simply isn't a story I would set out to write. This isn't a good thing or a bad thing, it just is, which means that asking me to make Twilight work the way Meyer intended is probably not your best bet.

But I'll try regardless, it's what we're here for.

Bella/Edward

Meyer intended Bella Swan and Edward Cullen to be the best and brightest of all the pairings in Twilight. They have the love and devotion of Carlisle and Esme, the physicality and sexual attraction of Rosalie and Emmett, and are such a grand love that even depressed Marcus takes note. This is the love story that drives the entire series.

Edward is an improvement upon Carlisle, a Carlisle with even better control, and the most beautiful man you ever did see. He's also a gentleman, a man of his time and from an era where chivalry was alive and men courted women. Bella is one of those disturbingly altruistic people who makes you feel bad about yourself just by being in the same room. She's incredibly selfless, kind, and also quite brave.

Together, despite their ups and downs and the many obstacles in their way, they're disgustingly perfect.

However, that's not what we get. On Edward's end he's... Edward about loving Bella. On Bella's end, she has no idea who Edward even is but she does know he's beautiful and special.

And to get what Meyer actually wanted... Christ, Anon, I'll try.

So, the first problem, if Edward was truly a good person then Twilight would never happen.

Edward would have his first day of Biology, miraculously maintain control, and flee to Alaska as he does in canon. However, he would not return. Edward in canon returns due to his budding obsession as well as his wounded pride, in fleeing Forks he feels he has lost to Bella. When Carlisle later points out that a girl's life is on the line, that Edward is foolishly endangering this girl solely for his ego, Edward refuses to acknowledge this.

A good man would never have returned from Alaska, the Cullens would have moved in short order, and Bella may or may not have died in a parking lot or in Port Angeles.

That said, what if Bella is not, in fact, Edward's singer? Then there's not this constant debate of him eating her or his creepy, budding, obsession with his personal brand of heroin.

Well, the trouble with that is that Edward would then never notice her. Even were Edward not a colossal dismissive dick, required per this ask, Bella is one mortal out of many and someone he shouldn't grow close to. Associating with her just exposes her to unnecessary danger from him and his family. Edward is a guest in our world, nothing more, and a kind Edward might chit chat with her in Biology but even if he had a growing crush he'd keep his distance.

As he tried and failed to do in canon, actually.

Basically, change Edward alone, and it's not enough. The Edward Meyer wanted would never get together with Bella. At least, not without a lot of AU-sauce.

But let's look at Bella for a moment. Bella's character also has to be entirely stripped down. The Bella of the books is extremely depressed and her infatuation with Edward is fueled in part because of this. Edward's obsession with her gives her worth.

Obviously, in this new and improved edition of Twilight, Bella can't use either Edward or Jacob for validation. She has to be able to stand on her own two legs. If she does use either for validation, then the relationship must come to an end, as she and her significant other realize just what it is Bella's doing.

The trouble is, what does this not-depressed Bella have to fall in love with? Yes, Edward's beautiful, and that certainly goes a long way, but in canon he's a dick. Bella even thinks to herself that he's a complete dick (even when he's trying to be charming). Luckily for Edward she later decides that this is cryptic and therefore appealing.

Well, in AU land, Edward might be so damn charming that Bella likes him anyway but we come back to Edward keeping her at a polite distance.

So, what we need is a terrifying villain. Let's call him Angelus (though per Twilight this would probably be James). Angelus is a vampire that will force Edward's hand. For whatever reason, he decides to torment and ruin Bella's life, ending the hunt in either eating her or turning her into his bride. Angelus' existence forces Bella to be in the know and for Edward to have to take extreme action.

The pair become closer, grow through undoubtedly horrific trauma, and through said trauma Bella understands not only the pros of being a vampire but the terrifying cons.

Basically, it'd be this story. Just replace the name "Carlisle" with Edward and "Edward" with James.

Alice/Jasper

Alice and Jasper are supposed to have this ineffable, mystic, connection where they're together because... Alice saw them together. And in a way, that's true, but it's supposed to be a thing of beauty, soulmates if there ever were any, and instead it's this dumpster fire with nothing holding them together.

This one's easier in a way, well, sort of. Alice would have to be a completely different character and we'd have to see a lot more of Jasper.

Alice has a bad habit of treating those around her, even those she loves, as chess pieces. She'll put them in significant danger, court their misery, so long as it gets her the future she wants.

And she's extremely controlling.

Right away in the opening of Midnight Sun we see this and how it affects her and Jasper's relationship. The novel opens with Alice hovering, scanning the future for Japser fucking up, while Jasper just sits there in misery. Due to her obsession on making sure Jasper doesn't eat students, she actually misses Edward's plan to massacre Biology and his many plans to eat Bella Swan.

Even if she wasn't, this isn't good for anyone to live with. Jasper has very little concept of free will, whatever happens to him, whatever he'll do, Alice tells him and the worst possible option is always on the table.

For Jasper/Alice to work either Alice's gift needs to go (and that's... sort of all Alice is) or she has to tell no one any vision ever unless under extreme circumstances.

Which would be devastating for Alice. Rather than this mostly well-adjusted, perky, girl, Alice would be crippled by her gift. The weight of the world, everyone's free will, rests on her shoulders and she has to constantly avoid temptation to simply pick everyone's future for them.

Without the attitude Alice has in canon, I think she'd go mad with such a gift, or else be consumed by the responsibility of it.

Then we get to the mess that is Jasper. Jasper's complicated, and I don't want to get into it here, but his love story would have to be... too large to be put to the side like that. The redemption he'd need is not one that can be shoved into a few paragraphs told to Bella, it's frankly the kind of story that would drive an ordinary story.

So we'd have to see a lot of Jasper and Nouveau Alice. Which, of course, detracts from Bella/Edward which is the main point of the story.

Honestly, I take it back, there's no salvaging this relationship. They would have to be completely different people to the point where they're entirely different characters wearing nametags 'Alice' and 'Jasper'. Alice couldn't have her gift, which informs her entire character, and we'd have to see way too much of Jasper who is ultimately a tertiary character.

Carlisle/Esme

Thoughts on Carlisle/Esme.

Carlisle and Esme is a very 'spiritual' relationship per Meyer. They're... mom-bot and dad-bot. Alright, fine, they're the perfect parents with this deep love for each other and a very parental bond with Edward especially. It's the relationship Edward admires the most in his paired off family.

I don't even know how to fix this one.

Again, they'd have to be such different people. The trouble with Esme and Carlisle is that they share no values and are plagued by massive miscommunication. The Carlisle who is perfect for Esme... No, wait, this Carlisle is perfect for her, but that's because she's in Esme Land.

The Carlisle that would be perfect for a grounded Esme is not the one that exists. She'd want someone who would always put the family first, who would treasure her above all other things, that's not Carlisle.

Carlisle, similarly, would want someone that truly shares his ideals. That's not Esme.

So, we're back to nametag land, because one or both have to completely change for this to work. (Not to mention that Esme's probably not supposed to be Esme).

So, I've got nothing for this.

Rosalie/Emmett

I actually think these two are what Meyer intended. They love each other but are mostly held together by attraction. They're a very physical couple and good for the most part but inherently lesser than Bella/Edward.

Sure, I'd argue that they're the most put together couple in the house, but I think they're meant to have flaws. They work well together, but every other relationship in the Cullens has to be a step up or at least have something more to it.

Something Edward and Bella can be better than.

Conclusion

Dear god. Did I only manage to somewhat address Bella/Edward? Was that it? This was worse than I thought.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #twilight shipping #bella/edward #anti bella/edward #carlisle/esme #anti carlisle/esme #alice/jasper #anti alice/jasper #rosalie/emmett #anti rosalie/emmett #meta #headcanon #opinion #shipping

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 2 years ago

Text

HEART'S REDEMPTION - CHAPTER 2

*Warning: Adult Content*

As soon as Sam saw the guy at the bar staring at his untouched food like it was some kind of tragedy, he knew he was the one.

The one who will get him out of this shithole for good.

He can tell at a glance that this guy has the kind of pain that he needs.

Some sort of hurt that goes deep and wants to come out in bad ways.

He can work with that.

‘It was a stroke of luck, finding him but I guess I’m due some luck, after all.’

When Sam had overheard Karin drawing up yet another contract for him, only days after he had finished the last, he knew he had to get away, or at least try.

He’d left with nothing... just walked away... curious to see how far he would get before Karin set the dogs, Pax and Roman on his trail.

Not far, as it turns out. But maybe just far enough.

‘If only I can get this guy to take me the rest of the way.’

For now Pax and Roman have pissed off, though he knows they are waiting somewhere near by, ready to take him back as soon as he finishes what they think he came to do.

‘As long as they believe my man here paid the price already, they know better than to interfere.’

At the moment the man in question is perched on the edge of the bed in his crappy motel room, looking tense as a cat in a rising flood.

It makes Sam want to laugh.

“Do you want to call someone?” Ian asks Sam, looking at his phone.

“One of those national hotline things. Or... your parents, maybe?”

That does make Sam laugh and Ian looks up in surprise, ice-blue eyes startled and wide.

He’s got a nice face, now that I look at him... a bit like a ginger Chris Hemsworth. Kind of hot actually.

Maybe he can use that, too.

“No,” Sam says, sitting next to Ian on the bed and shifting closer, putting a bit of a purr in his voice.

“I don’t want to call anyone. There’s nobody to call for someone like me. I just want to get away from here. Won’t you take me with you? I promise I can make it worth your while.”

Ian stands abruptly and moves away from Sam, running his fingers through his hair and making it stand up in auburn spikes.

“Look I want to help,” the handsome red-haired man says.

“But I’ve got to understand what’s going on here. You’re in trouble, right?”

Sam nods, making his eyes as big as he can... the little lost kitten look. He smirks to himself as he sees it gets Ian good.

“So who are those guys? Human trafficking? Some sort of prostitution ring?”

Sam shakes his head. He can’t lie but Ian is so far off the mark, he doesn’t have to.

“They work for Karin. He owns me.”

“Owns you?” Ian repeats, looking horrified.

“Well he thinks he does. He payed my mother good money, after all.”

“Oh my God.” Sam says, covering his mouth with his hand and sits back down on the bed.

Sam is kind of gratified by Ian’s reactions.

Maybe he’s not just a damaged tool after all.

“Don’t let them take me back there,” Sam begs, reaching out and grabbing Ian’s muscular fore-arm, not having to pretend the desperation at all.

“Please, I’ll do anything you want.”

Ian stands, almost leaping away from Sam’s touch.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Ian says.

“Because it seems like you can tell I’m not. I don’t want anything from you and I’m sure as hell not into kids.”

“Gross. I hope not,” Sam replies, making a face.

“I’m older than I look,” he adds.

“I’m almost twenty one.”

In human years anyway.

Ian Foley looks at the pretty young boy in front of him, skeptically.

“Yeah? Well I’m thirty-four. That makes you a kid to me.”

Sam frowns at Ian but doesn’t ague.

It seems like he might actually be a nice guy.

This means this might be harder than he thought.

He’ll have to switch tactics.

��Where are you heading?” Sam asks.

“Alaska,” Ian says, sounding tired.

“I’m going to Alaska.”

“That’s perfect,” Sam exclaims.

“I have relatives in Alaska.”

Again, not a lie, but defiantly not true in the way Ian thinks it is.

“Really?

Sam nods, hoping to look as innocent and eager as he’s going for.

It seems to work. Ian drops to the bed once more and flops onto his back, pushing the palms of his hands against his eyes.

“Shit,” Ian groans, broad chest rising and falling with a sigh.

“Why do I have a feeling I’m going to regret this?”

A short time later, they are in Ian’s big red truck driving away.

Sam feels like cackling with joy but that wouldn’t fit the image of the helpless innocent, he’s trying to maintain, so he keeps quiet and observes the man behind the wheel.

He can already feel the strain as the bond Karin forced on him stretches tight as the distance between them grows.

Sam needs to break it fast.

The problem is that he doesn’t know how to make Ian stake his claim.

He had told Pax and Roman he was Ian’s and that was a start but he needs a little more to make it stick.

Getting the handsome red-head to say his name a few times might help.

“I’m Sam, by the way,” he volunteers, as they drive along a stretch of straight road boarded by thick trees.

“Ian,” he says, mouth twisted in a grim parody of a smile.

“Nice to meet you.”

A few more moments of silence pass and then to Sam’s alarm, Ian pulls off the road onto the shoulder and stops his truck.

“Wait. What are you doing? Why are we stopping?” Sam demands, again not haven’t to fake the panic in his voice.

Ian looks at Sam, blue eyes rimmed in red.

“I’ve got to sleep, kid,” he says.

“I’ve been driving all night. I brought a meal I didn’t eat and paid for a bed I didn’t sleep in. I’m beat.’

“But we’re still too close,” Sam insists.

He can still feel Karin’s disgusting hold on him and if he doesn’t break it or at least weaken it with distance, Pax and Roman will be able to trace his trail.

“Look here, kid. You want to drive? Knock yourself out.”

“I don’t know how to drive,” Sam protests.

“And stop calling me kid. My name is Sam and like I said I’m older than I look.”

“But you can’t drive?” Ian states and then yawns so wide his jaw cracks.

“Besides, I don’t care how old you are. You look like a kid.”

“Yeah? Well you look like a guy that would take a date to a cheep motel. So let’s not judge people based on appearances, okay?” Sam huffs, crossing his arms across his chest.

Ian pops his door open and climbs out.

“Uh, huh. But I’m a guy that would take a date to a cheep motel. Sometimes things are what they appear.”

As Ian raises his arms above his head and Sam gets a glimpse of tight abs and a fiery treasure trail disappearing beneath the waist of his jeans.

His clothes seem a little big for him, like he’s recently lost weight and yet not bothered to update his wardrobe to reflect the change.

Given the cloud of pain hanging over him, Sam guesses Ian’s had other things on his mind and despite what he said it’s obvious he’s not what he seems.

Ian wanders off to take a piss and comes back, adjusting the front of his pants and yawns again.

Climbing back into the cab, the handsome red-head leans his head against the back of the seat and closes his eyes.

Sam feels the pulse of rage reaching for him along the weakened bond and suppresses a curse.

Karin knows Sam is gone.

He looks at Ian, who's face is already relaxing into sleep and he swears under his breath.

He hadn’t wanted to do this so soon, or at all.

But he had no choice.

“Ian,” Sam calls softly.

One blue eye opens half-way.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Ian mumbles.

“For this.”

Sam moves quickly, grabs hold and pulls Ian to him, then presses his lips to his.

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hotchseyebrows · 3 years ago

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that's my heart right there

a derek morgan x penelope garcia fic

a/n: hi beloveds :) today i present this happy and soft morcia fic that i wrote in practically one go last night. who needs wips when you can just ignore them all blatantly for new works? thank you as always to @blkantigone for providing another set of eyes, love you lots! love you all too, thank you for reading!

rating/warnings: teens and up, allusions to sex but none on screen, mostly just gooey marshmallowly fluff!

read it on ao3 here!

The sunlight surrounds her in a soft glow. She smiles at him and something inside of him breaks open.

“Let’s get a drink.” It’s not an unusual request for them, but it feels bigger this time. “If you want to.”

Her smile grows. “Yes please.”

A post Exit Wounds fic where Kevin doesn't exist and Clooney the dog is much more important to the narrative. They're in love and finally doing something about it.

word count: 2311

“I kinda love you, Derek Morgan.”

“I kinda love you, Penelope Garcia.”

He thinks about it the whole plane ride back from Alaska. When they board, she gently tugs him to the big couch before sitting directly next to him. He drops his arm around her shoulders instinctually, smiling as she hums and pulls out her knitting. She smells like honey and rain (the respective scents of her shampoo and conditioner and her body wash) and has picked a warm color gradient for her outfit and makeup today. She babbles about her knitting group’s latest gossip for a while as he relaxes into her side.

She seems like her normal relaxed and bubbly self, but he can feel the tension in her shoulders. Their early conversation was comforting, but her worries are still weighing on her. But he doesn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone, so he just kisses her temple and tugs her closer. “So wait baby girl, is Jared going to ask out Francisco or not?”

“I don’t know! I asked him about it before we left and he dodged giving me a straight answer. I think he’s worried about their friendship, but it’s SO obvious that Francisco is wild about him. They’re already best friends, so- he’s just being silly. I told him that.”

The conversation moves on, but Penelope’s friends join the merry-go-round of thoughts in his head for the rest of the flight. They stay close for the remaining 8 hours, usually with some form of physical contact even as they adjust positions over the long trip home. Derek focuses on making her laugh as much as possible and trying to make her blush all at once.

When they land at home after almost 9 hours on the jet, the sun is setting. The team is obviously tired, but in relatively good spirits as they exit the plane. Derek is last, just behind Penelope. The sky is full of the same colors on Penelope’s clothes today, he realizes as they walk across the airfield. “It’s good to be back,” she says, pulling her shawl tight. “I miss you when you go but it’s… easier on me in some ways not to be there.”

It makes him pause, slowing to a stop. Penelope walks further ahead but notices he’s not there and stops herself. She looks over her shoulder at him, waiting. The sunlight surrounds her in a soft glow. She smiles at him and something inside of him breaks open.

“Let’s get a drink.” It’s not an unusual request for them, but it feels bigger this time. “If you want to.”

Her smile grows. “Yes please.”

They don’t dance. This part is unusual. Instead it’s 4 drinks in each at a quiet bar close to Derek’s apartment, and they are glued to each other’s side on the same side of a table in a corner booth. This place doesn’t even have a dance floor.

She leans against his side, nosing at his neck. “You smell good,” she mumbles. He wraps an arm around her, feeling shaky like a ship in a storm.

“Baby girl, is this-” He pauses, not sure what the question should be. Not sure of the answer she’ll give. Penelope picks her head up to look at him, cheeks flushed. Derek swallows. “Am I imagining things, or…”

“You’re not imagining things.” She leans up and kisses the corner of his mouth. “I feel it too.” He grins and pulls her in for a proper kiss. They fall into it easily, as if it isn’t the first time. The first time it really means what it’s meant to. It feels like they’ve been together for years- and in some ways, that’s not untrue.

He brings her home. It’s late, and they’ve had a long case and now a long night, so he knows she’s tired. Still, she stops to drop to her knees to hug Clooney when he comes barreling out of Derek’s bedroom at the sound of them entering the apartment.

“Oh, hello sweetie, hi there, yes, I know, it’s so exciting when Daddy comes home, but it’s even more exciting when he brings me to visit, I know-” Clooney agrees with a quiet woof- “see, Derek, Clooney said I’m his favorite.”

Derek smiles at the way his best girl gets along with his big goof of a dog. “He’s got good taste.” He doesn’t mean the words to come out so weighted, but she looks up at him with such a reverent look on her face that he doesn’t care.

She stands up and drags him through his apartment, Clooney hot on their heels. They get ready for bed at the same time as if they’ve done this domestic routine every night for ages. She won’t stop looking at him like she loves him. Like she cherishes him. He believes her.

She pulls him into his bed, arranging their bodies close together. They don’t do anything more than kiss with their arms wrapped around each other. She falls asleep first with her head on his chest. It makes him feel warm. They shared a bed in Alaska too, and now he’s thinking about not wanting the streak to end. He pulls her closer for the moment, the places where her soft skin is touching his own shooting little bolts of lightning through him as he falls asleep too.

Penelope makes breakfast. He takes Clooney on a run, slipping out of bed when she’s still asleep and kissing her forehead before he goes. When he comes back, she’s in his robe, standing over the stove. He’s sweaty and hot, but she yanks him into a kiss anyway. After the eggs burn a little, he pulls away and takes a quick shower. She’s waiting at the table, coffee made and Clooney napping at her feet. The food is delicious, but sitting here with her like this is better. She tastes like coffee when he kisses her over the table.

Someone surely would have noticed Penelope in the same outfit again today, but over the years so much of her clothing has ended up hanging in Derek’s closet next to his own that she’s able to pick out a full outfit for the day. Today her dress is frilly and bright green. He picks out a darker green shirt to match- just because he can.

They drop into this new routine easily. Their flirtatious phone calls now have this added layer of promise and intent, even if they haven’t made good on it yet. She’s always been the primary person to stop in and take care of Clooney while Derek’s on cases, but now he comes home and she’s still there. His two best loves, sitting on his couch. He gets home after a case with hidden cameras and is feeling particularly exposed over it all. But there she is, smiling up at him, because she missed him. Because she wanted to see him.

“Hi there,” she says. He crosses the room and lifts her off the couch, holding her against him. She follows his lead with ease, trusting him implicitly. His arms wrap around her waist. He can literally feel her breathing like this, and he’s never been so grateful that she’s alive. “Hi,” she whispers again.

“Hi baby.” He nuzzles the side of her head, breathing in the soft honey scent of her hair.

She doesn’t ask what’s got him all worked up. She just wraps her arms around his neck and lets him hold her. After a minute or two of just swaying in place, he leans in and presses their lips together. A gentle kiss at first, but quickly his desire for closeness, to feel her, bleeds into that too. He lifts her legs off the ground and puts them around his waist. Penelope makes a noise close to a whine in the back of her throat, pushing closer. He carries her to his room, kissing her fiercely all the while.

Afterwards, she’s lying on top of him with her head on his chest. Derek runs his fingers through her hair, gently untangling anything he comes across. “I’m glad you’re home,” she says, slightly muffled by her mouth’s position against his skin.

It sounds like she means that this is their home. Or that she is his home.

“Me too.” He pulls her up for another slow kiss. She climbs up on top of him, straddling his hips. Her hands cup his cheeks before running down his chest. He keeps the kiss slow, and she kisses back with ease. Like they’re in love.

Derek is in the break room, making another cup of coffee. Emily slides next to him, a coffee stirrer in her teeth. “You seem happy.”

Derek looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s a nice day, Prentiss.” Emily deliberately looks at where the rain outside is hitting the window. Derek doesn’t back down.

“Whoever you’ve been dating must be a hell of someone. That’s good.”

Derek can’t help but smile. She really is.

“But I want more information sooner than later, Morgan.”

He hums, and picks up Penelope’s coffee cup from the rack. He takes his time filling it before looking at Emily pointedly.

She pauses and then grins. “I fucking knew it. I knew it!” Derek smiles back. “You better take care of her, I swear to God-”

“I will. I am.”

She softens. “She better take care of you too.”

He picks up both mugs. “She does.”

He’s never felt like this in a relationship before. Being with Penelope is easy. It’s just the same as it was, but better and more. She stops by his office a little more, and he swings by the batcave more often than he needs to, but no one notices. It’s just part of the normal Morgan-Garcia antics everyone expects.

She does take full advantage of this and is definitely getting kissed more often than anyone else at Quantico during the day, but Derek doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all.

They’re sitting on a park bench at the edge of the dog park and watching Clooney run himself ragged through the grass. She puts her head on his shoulder. “Francisco asked Jared out a few days ago.”

“I thought you said Jared was the one who was thinking about asking out Francisco.”

“Francisco got tired of waiting.”

He nods. “I know the feeling,” he says before kissing the top of her head.

After they find Ellie’s mom, Derek can’t shake this weird mixture of happy and sad in the middle of his chest. Penelope comes over unprompted with a plate of cookies and a stack of dvds. They lay on the couch, her holding him and Clooney with his head on Derek’s thigh. They don’t talk about it then, but they will later. For now she traces a pattern on his side as Nicolas Cage and Holly Hunter kidnap a baby. Clooney starts snoring. Penelope kisses Derek’s shoulder, arms holding him tight.

They show up together to a little party at Rossi’s. Emily sees them holding hands and grins. No one else notices that, but they do notice when Penelope pulls Derek down into a kiss after he gets her another drink.

“Thank you, mon amour. You’re my hero.”

He laughs. “Anything for you baby girl.” He taps the tip of her nose in punctuation. She pulls him in for another short kiss in response.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” says Rossi.

Emily is grinning widely. Spencer and JJ have matching excited and pleased looks. Hotch has this knowing look on his face. Derek raises an eyebrow at him specifically. Hotch just looks back with the softest smile on his face. He should have known Hotch would have noticed.

“Hold on, does that mean what I think it does or is this something you two are just doing now?” Spencer asks.

Derek looks down at Penelope. “Yes.”

The team laughs. “Yes to which part?”

“Yes,” Penelope says.

Spencer scrunches his nose at her. She giggles. “Yes, as in, it means what you think it does, pretty boy.”

Spencer claps his hands together, swinging them back and forth a little. “Good! Finally. I’m glad we don’t have to wait anymore.”

“Me too,” Penelope says to the group, but she’s only looking at Derek. He leans in and kisses her again in agreement.

Derek takes Clooney out when they get home to let him do his business before bed. When he comes back inside, Penelope is already in bed wearing one of his shirts and flipping through a knitting magazine. He strips down to his boxers and climbs into bed next to her, laying on his back and putting his face on her thigh.

“I think they took that well,” she says.

Derek rubs his face into her skin. He hums, nodding a little.

“When did Emily find out?”

“Find out that it’s you I’m seeing? Or that it was you I was too afraid to do anything about?”

She chuckles. “How about both, then.”

“She cornered me in the break room a few weeks after Alaska. And I never officially told her that I was nuts about you, so I think a safe bet would be her first day on the team.” Penelope drops the magazine and climbs into his lap.

“That long?” He knows what she means specifically.

“Even longer.” She runs a thumb along his jawline and looks down at him with such adoration in her eyes he thinks he might burst.

“Me too,” she whispers, like it’s a secret. He pulls her down into a kiss.

“I kinda love you, Penelope Garcia,” he mumbles against her lips.

“I kinda love you, Derek Morgan,” she says back without hesitation. He kisses her again, 'cause that’s the best thing he’s heard all day.

#morcia #derek morgan #penelope garcia #cm #cj.txt #denelope #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #cjs fic

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reidgraygubler · 4 years ago

Text

hot cocoa and cuddles part two (spencer reid/reader)

Title: hot cocoa & cuddles (part 2) Request: no Couple: Spencer Reid/Gender Neutral!Reader Category: fluff Content Warning: swearing (if any), mentions of a case/s, mentions of illnesses, tbh idk what else to tag Word Count: 2,348 Summary: the team returns back to maryland/dc after the case in alaska. reader discovers they still can’t warm up, even after everything they do. spencer tries to help out, again A/N: the long awaited part 2 of hot cocoa and cuddles. this is for the people who want to read part two and those who were looking forward to it… o.o thanks for all the love and support! Check out my masterlist!

part one

{***}{***}{***}

I pulled my sweater cardigan tighter around my body and shivered slightly. I pulled my hands away from my sweater and wrapped them around my hot mug, which was just hot tea. My eyes de-focused on the desktop in front of me. Anything Penelope and Aaron were saying went in one ear and out the other.

“You okay there, Honeybee?” Derek asked, looking over at me. I shivered and looked over at him. All eyes were on me as I tried to make myself not shake from my freezing-ness. “We’ve said your name like 6 times.”

“We’ve been home for 2 weeks and I am still freezing,” I spoke through clenched teeth. I wrapped my hands around my mug, which was slowly getting colder. “I have done literally everything to keep warm, and I’m still freezing.” I shook my head.

“Maybe you should get a cat,” Emily spoke up. I looked over at her and furrowed my eyebrows. “Sergio keeps me pretty warm at night.” She smiled at me. I laughed lightly and shook my head.

“My apartment doesn’t allow pets,” I mumbled and stared at the table. I shrugged and shook my head. “I guess I just live in this constant state of forever being cold.” I frowned.

“Maybe you should get your blood check. You could have low iron,” Spencer spoke up, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. I looked over at him and shook my head. “Being cold can be a symptom of low iron… You could be anemic... hypothyroidism is always a possibility,” he continued on his ramble/.

“Hey, Spence?" I asked as I looked at him, my hands wrapping tighter around my mug, which at this point was starting to get lukewarm.

“Yeah." He looked over at me with a smile.

“I don’t think I need you to tell me of my impending doom because I’m cold. I went to Alaska, not a hospital filled with a bunch of sickly people,” I whispered. Spencer lifted his finger to retort but failed when I shot him a glare.

“Get a boyfriend.” JJ smiled at me. I looked at her, trying to hide my smile but clearly failing. “Like your own personal space heater in bed. Body heat is a wonderful thing,” she mused as she flipped her file open. I shook my head as I glanced at Spencer.

“Yeah, I’ll look into getting a boyfriend or my own personal space heater. Although, I’m not entirely sure if my apartment will allow those,” I pouted. JJ laughed and shook her head.

“Hey, Honeybee, I’m always free if you need a personal space heater.” Derek smirked at me. I laughed harder than I should have and looked at him.

“You seriously expect me to sleep in the same bed as you, Derek Morgan?” I cackled and shook my head. Spencer shifted in his seat and kept his eyes down on the file in front of him.

“You shared a bed with Pretty Boy over there.” Derek nodded to my friend beside me. I tensed up slightly and glared at him.

“Better him than you, to be honest.” I flashed him a teasing smile.

“Guys, let’s get back on the task at hand. Garcia,” Aaron spoke up as he looked back at Penelope. I stifled my laughter as I looked back at Derek. He grumbled something under his breath as he looked back at his file.

{***}{***}{***}

I swear my heater was up so high (or as high as my bill would allow), I had my fluffiest and coziest pair of socks on, and at least 3 different sized hoodies on… The Alaska case was several weeks ago, I’ve been home ever since then… So why am I as cold as I am? And why can’t I warm up? Maybe I should take Derek up on his offer. Though, I think that’d be a whole new line I’d cross. Hard pass, thank you very much.

I should be asleep right now. 1:30 in the morning and I was sitting in bed with a hot water bottle pressed to my body. Something is wrong and I don’t know what. Crap, what if Spencer was right? What if I do have low iron or anemia? Or that hydro… Hypothyroidism, whatever that could be… I should ask him what that means. I wonder if he would be willing to be my personal space heater again. I mean, I know I kept him warm every bit as he kept me warm when we were in Alaska. And, he knows I’ve been cold. Listen, I’m just trying to rationalize wanting to cuddle Spencer Reid. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t stopped thinking about that. And, I wouldn’t be upset if it happened again.

“Screw this,” I muttered as I climbed out of bed with a blanket around my body. I shook my head as I muttered profanities under my breath. My body shook as I walked towards the front door of my apartment. I slipped my shoes on and left the house, freezing as I left my warm home.

And then I found myself standing just outside of Spencer’s apartment. Better him over Derek, I kept repeating to myself. I have a better relationship with him than Derek. Derek is more of an older brother to me. Spencer... I don’t know what he is to me. But he definitely isn't an older brother...

“Just… knock,” I whispered as I brought my fist to the door. It’s nearly two in the morning. I hope he wasn’t asleep. Although, knowing Spencer he was probably awake, reading over some old files.

“What… What are you doing here?” Spencer’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I blinked before staring at him. He was wearing a black t-shirt and red and black checkered pj pants. Though his hair was messy and disheveled, he was definitely not asleep.

“Just… Just coming to see how you’re doing,” I lied and shrugged. Spencer looked at me, raising an eyebrow. It was clear he wasn’t so sure of my answer. But to be fair, I wasn’t sure about my answer either.

“What’s really going on?” he asked, stepping to the side, silently inviting me in. I looked around his apartment and took a deep breath. His home always smelled like cinnamon and spice. I probably enjoyed it too much. Although, it made me feel warm… Which I was okay with. Answering Spencer’s question didn’t even cross my mind until I turned back and looked at him. “Is everything okay?” he asked again once I was facing him. I took a deep breath as I tugged on the ends of my sleeves.

“Uh, I was just… I was just thinking about the Alaska trip.” I wrinkled my nose as I looked anywhere but Spencer’s face. I was only mildly embarrassed that I was here… asking Spencer if he would want to cuddle with me… because I’m so cold. Man, I’m happy Spencer isn’t the teasing type. Not that he’d tease me about this. I know that anyone else would though…

“What about the Alaska trip?” Spencer looked at me, his tone telling me he was very wary about my statement. I looked at the ground and shrugged.

“Just something you said, I guess,” I started as I looked at him, “Well, something you said earlier today,” I shrugged as I looked back down at the ground. I really wanted my blanket and hot water bottle. Even though I was warmer in his apartment, I was still cold. “Could I really be sick? Is that why I’m so cold?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest as I looked back at him. A shiver worked its way down my body and all the way to the tips of my toes and fingers.

“Come on, I’m gonna make you hot chocolate, and then we’re gonna go lay in my bed, under the covers.” He held a hand out for me to take. I stared at it for a moment before carefully resting my hand in his. He clasped his fingers around mine before leading me to his kitchen.

“You didn’t answer my questions, Spencer. You know more than anyone that avoiding a question means your keeping something from someone.” I watched as he made two large mugs of hot cocoa.

He still didn’t answer my questions as we walked towards his bedroom. And, in fact, he was silent up until I was sitting beside him on the bed, holding my mug of hot chocolate close to my body. Even though I was now in a warmer home, with a hot drink, several blankets, and the warmest person I know (despite his sometimes icy hands), I was still very cold. So, I looked over at him, watching as he flipped through the pages of his book.

“Are you going to answer my questions?” I asked, reaching over and placing my mug on the side table. Spencer looked over at me with a raised brow, slightly closing his book. “Am I actually dying?” I asked, feeling a certain fear grow in my tone.

“You’re not dying,” he said as he folded the corner of the page in his book before closing it. I watched as he set it on his side table.

“You don’t sound very convincing.” I shrugged, pulling one of my several blankets tighter around me. Spencer looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. He carefully gestured for me to move closer to him, and when I hesitated, he pulled me closer to him.

“You’re not dying. You’re not sick. You’re just cold. Everyone knows you’re probably the one who gets cold the most. Even when we were in Florida, you were cold,” Spencer said as he kept his arms around my body, holding me close to his. His body temperature was definitely warming me up, just like it had a few weeks prior.

“Hey! That’s because the stupid officers had the A/C on 65! It was freezing!” I moved away from him and looked at his face. I could feel a giggly smile grow on my face as I kept my eyes on him. “You giving me your sweater was like a gift from God.” I looked down at him.

“I think that’s the fourth sweater that’s gone missing?” He copied my smile before laughing. I looked away from him, trying to play innocent. “And the only common denominator is you.” Spencer poked my nose before he pulled me back closer to him. I rolled my eyes before curling back into his side. The goosebumps that were once on my arms and exposed skin, were now fading away the longer I stayed beside Spencer.

“If it makes you feel any better, they were quite warm.” I smiled. I left out the part that I enjoyed that they smelled like him. “And, I’ll return them washed,” I added, again leaving out that I’ll be sad that they won’t hold his scent.

“If they weren’t my favorite sweaters, I would say keep them. But I’m rather fond of two of those.” Spencer looked down at me with a warm smile. I laughed.

“Thanks for letting me in. I know it’s late. I promise I won’t make this a habit,” I laughed as I looked out onto the blankets in front of me. Part of me wondered what temperature Spencer had his furnace on, and how it was so warm. Mostly because my furnace was on pretty high and it was still like an icebox in my apartment.

“It’s okay, really. You should work on getting a portable heater for your house and desk just so they warm up faster,” Spencer suggested.

I almost, very nearly, said “But then that’d mean I can’t come over anymore,” But I didn’t. So, I just stayed silent.

“Like Garcia said, your own personal space heater,” Spencer laughed. Though, I cringed, remembering what Derek had said.

“Yeah? Or I could just get a Derek Morgan.”

“Who would want him as a boyfriend,” he scoffed, sounding mildly hurt with my joke. I looked up at him with furrowed brows before sitting upright.

“I never said I wanted him as my boyfriend. I was joking that he said he could be my space heater or a boyfriend. I was saying… What I meant was I could get a boyfriend instead. Because, you know…. Cuddling is a good way to-”

“What if it was me,” he asked, cutting me off so swiftly. I had to look at him to make sure he actually said what he said, because he was so quiet and he said it so fast, I almost wasn’t sure.

“You want…” I furrowed my eyebrows, again, as I stared at him. Spencer was looking down at the blankets, probably wondering to himself if he actually said what he said. “Spencer, if you wanted to ask me out all you had to do was ask.” Okay, I was definitely warming up a lot faster now, feeling my blood rush from a sudden secondhand embarrassment that I didn’t really want to feel.

“It’s a lot more than that,” he muttered as he looked at me. I furrowed my eyebrows before reaching a hand up to his face. I carefully guided him so he was looking right at me.

“It really isn’t… Like, ask me a question, any question.” I smiled, feeling my fingertips warm up under the warmth of his skin.

“Can I kiss you,” he asked, his voice very soft. I smiled before nodding, feeling a newfound excitement flood my body. Spencer lifted his hands and cupped my face, warming my cheeks instantly, before leaning closer to me.

As his lips connected with mine, I finally felt warm for the first time in weeks. His arms holding me close to his body, like he became my own personal space heater, again. I could sense that he knew I was warming up because when he pulled away from me and looked down at me, he was smiling.

“I’d be okay if I made a habit of this.” Spencer nodded as he carefully ran a hand through my hair. I couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Good.” I smiled before pressing my lips to his for a moment, “Because I could too.”

if you want to be a part of a taglist or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #doctor spencer reid #doctor spencer reid imagine #doctor spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spence reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid fan fiction #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds one shot

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rphelperblog · 3 years ago

Text

Crave Quote Rp Meme

“He turns me inside out with a look, destroys me with a kiss.”

“I can see something in his eyes. Something powerful and terrible and all-consuming.”

“Everyone answers to me…eventually.”

“There’s not much to be afraid of when you’ve already lost everything that matters.”

“Sometimes life hands you more than a new hand of cards to play—it hands you a whole new deck, maybe even a whole new game.”

“Deep down, I am not different from you. I dreamed you, I wished for your existence.”

“It tugs at something deep inside me, makes me wonder, when I never wonder. Makes me want, when I never want.”

“There are a thousand ways to get somewhere, but not all ways are the correct one.”

“If You Can’t Live Without Me, Why Aren’t You Dead Yet?”

“I want him to look at me like it physically hurts him not to be touching me.”

“It’s written all over his face—he would disintegrate anyone—everyone—if it means saving me. He would literally set fire to the world.”

“Actions have consequences. Mistakes get made. Hearts get broken.”

“If You’re Not Living on the Edge, You’re Taking Up Too Much Space”

“I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”

“We needed each other. We were both in pain, and we filled an emptiness we didn’t know how to fill on our own.”

“Have you ever wanted something so much that you were afraid to take it?Like it’s right there, waiting for you to just reach out and grab it, but you’re so terrified of what will happen when you lose it that you never make the reach?”

“Landing Is Just Throwing Yourself at the Ground and Hoping You Don’t Miss

“Indescribable. Unfathomable. Delicious.”

“This girl looks mischievous, like she knows she’s up way past her bedtime, but she just can’t put the story down.”

“Not when the last time he was happy, he was plotting a hostile takeover of half the paranormal world.”

“You wound me. It was at least three-quarters.”

“… falling over the edge of the world together.”

“Always, baby. Whatever you need.”

“But now, as I stand here, surrounded by the people I love most in the world, I finally understand what it means to rule with compassion. With dignity. With love.”

“Talking to your best friend about the worst thing that ever happened to you in excruciating. Talking to a stranger who doesn’t have any kind of vested interest…sometimes it doesn’t hurt so much.”

“Some Days Life’s a Bowl of Cherries; Some Days It’s Just the Pits.”

“There’s not much to be afraid of when you’ve already lost everything that matters”

“I’ve read everything on my Kindle,”

“It is time to go home, my love.”

“You wear reckless like French women wear lipstick. Subtle some days, red hot on other, but always, always, always essential.”

“And the villain fades away into obscurity, never to be seen or heard from again…”

“A Tempest rising, without fail.”

“The vampire hat is a really nice touch.”

“I’ve got better things to do than waste my time on a guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to everyone.”

“We’re all breakable, my boy. Part of being alive.”

“He’s got the manners of a rabid polar bear”

“Words absolutely no normal person has ever wanted to hear,”

“I thought a stake through the heart is what killed vampires, not—”

“I Like Standing on My Own Two Feet, but Getting Swept Off Them Feels Surprisingly Good, Too”

“You’re more than you think you are,”

“But being able to fool people into thinking you have character isn’t the same as actually having character.”

“When exactly did I become the heroine in some YA romance? The new girl swooning over the hottest, most unattainable boy in school? Gross. And so not happening.”

“I’m beginning to feel like I’ve fallen into Mean Girls, Alaska version or something.”

“There’s a part of me that can’t imagine what world he’s talking about, considering I’m currently living in the middle of a fantasy novel.”

“Biggest fear: Ending up alone because I’ll always love the wrong person. Is that too deep? How about “the ocean.” We have no idea what’s down there. I don’t trust that shit.”

“When I hit on you, it’ll be because you want me to. And we’ll both know exactly what’s going on when I do. “

“Books are fascinating and fun.”

“it would, which, in my mind, proves the theory that you hold on until the other person pulls away because you never know what they’re going through and if they need the comfort.”

“Nothing to do but admit that—obnoxious smirk or not—this boy is sexy af. A little wicked, a lot wild, and all dangerous.”

#open meme #roleplay meme #ask meme #rp meme #memes #ask prompt #rp ask meme #rp ask blog #ask #crave #booklr #book rp meme #book rp #open to anybody #open RP #open to all #open to anyone

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lemomnade · 4 years ago

Text

The Dream SMP as stupid things my friends and I have said Part 1

(All taken from a document of funny moments with some actions or locations changed for dramatic flair)

—

Quackity: I’m not scared of him.

Technoblade: You should be.

Quackity: I sleep with a knife under my pillow.

Technoblade: I sleep with a knife in my hand.

—

Philza: I have gained monk-like patience from being on this SMP.

*Technoblade spawning wither noises*

Philza: I am like a god-level-kindergarten supervisor.

*Tommy screaming*

Philza, reaching for water bottle: Gimme my patience juice--

Wilbur: *presses button*

*cut to “It’s all gone!” and angst*

—

Philza: *Scooting away from Ranboo in his panic room* Ranboo, that makes it sound like you're in the maffia

—

Technoblade: Goose has become a sign of rebellion and anarchy. And considering the nature of Untitled Goose Game… it’s not wrong.

Technoblade, several minutes later after nearly staging a revolution on the SMP: The goose is a god that is to be worshipped. I am his priest.

—

Philza: What are you doing?

Wilbur, while sipping a red substance from a wine glass: Drinking.

Philza: What are you drinking?

Wilbur: Well, technically it’s out of date cranberry juice… but in a way, that makes it aged wine *sips*

—

Dream: Someone’s being rude. Do you need to go to Church Prime?

—

Philza: Are you okay?

Wilbur: I’mplayingacharacterthatsadomesticterroristandits SO FRICKIN GAY!!

Philza:

Wilbur: Roleplay stuff.

Philza: ...ah.

—

Tubbo: Wait, Alaska is connected to Canada? I thought it was an island!

Technoblade: *in a corner writing his evil agenda, desperately trying to spell terrorist correctly and failing*

—

Tommy: I’m mad at you.

Dream: Why?

Tommy: I had another dream.

Dream: *sighs* What did I do this time?

Tommy: You and Techno kidnapped Tubbo, took him to your house, and chopped his head off.

Technoblade: And you were laughing maniacally the whole time.

Tommy: Yeah.

Dream: Sounds fun. *to Technoblade* We should do that some time.

Technoblade, at the same time as Tommy: Yes!

Tommy, at the same time as Technoblade: NO!!

—

Philza, eating with Technoblade: So, what’d you do today?

Technoblade: Well, let’s just say politics suck and baguettes are not particularly useful for sword fighting.

Philza: *chokes*

—

Dream: *in a crab pose*

Tommy: *looks at him*

Dream: I am your demons.

Punz, half of the server following him, now behind Dream: And I am yours.

Dream: *leaps*

—

Eret: Do you want to hear my new philosophy?

Tubbo: ???

Eret: If I cannot be bisexual, then I shall be die-sexual.

Tubbo: *wheeze*

—

Dream: If a sacrifice needs to be made, I’m willing to have the children take the bullet.

The minors on the SMP: You’re always willing to have me take the bullet! And if there isn’t one, you shoot one at me!

—

Tommy: Dream’s not keeping his chestplate on and it’s making me mad.

—

Dream, writing the SMP: All the other SMPs are boring

Wilbur: This ones got some zest to it

Technoblade: *rubs his fingers together* Gotta love ze ZeSt~

—

Tommy: *is trying to kill Dream* I wanna smite this thing but I can’t HIT IT!

—

Video: *explains how a volcano can become extinct and never erupt again*

Tubbo: So volcanoes just die?

Tommy: Yeah, like Wilbur Soot.

—

Technoblade: *Hugs Ranboo*

Ranboo: Friendship!

Technoblade: Sure.

—

Technoblade: Let’s have cake for lunch!

Philza: We can’t do that.

Technoblade: Why? No one’s gonna stop us.

Philza: *gestures to government*

Technoblade: *pulls out wither skulls* Did I stutter?

—

Technoblade: *talking to the voices about Carl*

Tubbo: ???

Philza: In case you’re confused, Karl is also the name of his horse.

—

#Dream SMP #Dream #Technoblade #Philza #Philza Minecraft #Tommyinnit #Tubbo #Quackity #Ranboo #Wilbur Soot #Eret #Karl Jacobs #carl the horse #dream smp incorrect quotes #sleepy bois inc incorrect quotes #sleepy bois inc #incorrect quotes

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chipper-smol · 4 years ago

Text

Vanilla 2 Chain

Prompt: Hollow experiences phantom limb syndrome

is more angst time

( https://twitter.com/Perfidy19 )

Nothing lasts forever.

That was the last lesson the Hollow Knight received from their father upon being sealed away in the Black Egg Temple.

Nothing lasts. Not Hallownest. Not the Radiance. Not Father.

Not even the Void, as they had discovered during the time they were sealed away, watching as the Infection searing within their arm at last tore away the final, stretched strands. A silent snap, and the detached limb fell to the floor, sinking into the ground in a pool of writhing ink.

It was then that they had realised, finally, the irony of their predicament, the stump left behind burning with the searing rage of the Old Light.

If even the all encompassing Void did not last, then Hallownest’s perpetuation was truly an impossible wish.

They lamented the irony of it all once again, now as they sat hunched over in their current resting spot, in the corner of an abandoned village home. Ironic, how the very one who had wished the most fervently for an eternal kingdom, would also be the one to teach them the inevitability of the end.

The stump where the Infection had once burned now throbbed.

Yes. Nothing lasts forever. Not even the knowledge that they had once believed timeless meant much in the end. The court manners? Hallownest’s upper class was dead, rules hardly mattered anymore. The training their father, the Pale King, had bestowed upon them? Pointless. They barely even had the strength to stand up. The only, right way to deal with the Infection?

Clearly, that information had been wrong from the start, seeing as how their rejected sibling had found another way to do away with it entirely, while they had only managed to buy time.

“Do you want something to eat, Hollow?”

They raised their head at the sound. Hornet scuttled in through the door, her needle clenched in her fist, a bundle of… something wedged under her arm.

“I did not know what your preference was,” she tipped the contents of the bundle onto the floor. Two speared tiktiks and some baby gruzzers rolled onto a bed of dried nuts and grass. “So I brought a bit of everything. But the gruzzers need some treatment before they can be eaten, so-“

Hollow listened as she talked, her bustling, business-like manner reminding them strongly of the late Queen of Deepnest. Hornet had changed since they had last seen her. No longer the scampering grub that they remembered, she had grown up into a fine hunter, perfectly capable of defending herself.

To think that she had once been no taller than the hilt of their nail, wielding a toy needle made of shellwood. It had been amusing to watch her run around the White Palace, full of energy and free from the stiff formalities of the Royal Retainers around her.

Endearing. Inquisitive. A bit of a troublemaker, but her mischief never put anyone in harm's way. They fondly recalled the days when she would take their nail and attempt to swing it around in the same fashion as the Great Nailsage, her little legs teetering under its weight.

Father had never liked when she did that. While Mother merely watched in amusement, he would personally confiscate the nail, then proceed to sternly lecture her on the dangers of sharp, metal objects. Not that she listened.

Father had not liked it either when Hollow was about to learn the way of the nail. Clumsy, he had called them. Without a mind, he claimed, it would be difficult to teach them to properly balance and swing the weapon, let alone fight with it.

And he had been right too. A long time they had spent practicing alone in secret, repeatedly thrashing the heavy training nail up and down, up and down all through the night, trying to imitate the way the Great Knight Dryya had done it.

Up and down, up and down, the weight of the training nail dragging heavy on their arms, the pain of lifting it twisting at their spell hand, the strain tearing through their shell, through their Void, through the bright, bright orange light that-

“-can you even eat?”

Hollow twitched in surprise, shaking their head clear of the pained haze originating from the stump of their arm.

“No? Well…” Hornet stared down disappointed at the small pile of food she had collected for them. “I suppose I’d never seen the little ghost eat before.”

The look of hurriedly concealed distress on her face was familiar, and made them feel ashamed of worrying her. They raised their a- ... their other arm from where it had been resting on their nail, and picked up one of the nuts. Delicately, they pretended to nibble on it, then hid it away within the Void inside their shell.

Hornet visibly brightened up.

“Oh! So you can. I was worried for a moment there. I’ll go get some more supplies, make this place more comfortable. Then, once you’re well and rested, we shall find a way up the well for a more permanent residence.”

Hollow nodded, then slumped back into their thoughts as Hornet ran out the door.

Thoughts. It was frightening to think that they had been… well, thinking, this whole time despite trying their best to stay empty. The one expectation from their father had had towards them had been simple. Do not think. Yet the act of thinking had become so natural to them that the idea of not thinking had become a notion in itself.

Perhaps that was why their sibling had succeeded where they had failed. They had not been empty enough, not pure enough. Where the Radiance’s angry cries should have fallen on deaf ears, they had instead listened, endured, resisted.

And then when she noticed, oh, she had been so very angry.

And so very pleased.

They could almost see it now, the glaring orange dreamscape blazing with her ancient fury. The floating pavilions bathed in flames, the endless fall through the burning sky. Her booming voice screaming down at them from above, echoing through the infinitely stretching space. Cursing them for all the things their Father did, and Hallownest did, and the moth tribe did.

Through the burning hellscape, her cold, glaring eyes stared right into them, chilling like ice, bright like the lighthouse down in the Abyss. Her eyes shone such cold, piercing light into them, through them, exposing them and their falseness.

I WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN.

They lifted their arm to fight back, to chase her away. They conjured glowing daggers at their fingertips and thr- no, they didn’t throw the daggers. They tried again, but they couldn’t throw the daggers, the daggers were still there, at their fingertips, in their fingertips. They were right there, building up soul energy focused into their hand, but they couldn’t let go, and it was there, building up, that searing white bubbling to molten orange and burning and burning right up to their shoulder and the world was burning and they were burning a-

“Hollow?”

They were once again torn away from their thoughts and the pain in their stump by Hornet gently shaking their arm (Their sword arm. Their spell arm was still gone. Still gone yet it was still there hurting, but it was gone).

She was worried now, that was bad. How did she know, when they had never uttered a word, had never been able to utter a word? Their mask was still expressionless… perhaps their body language? They realised that they had been shaking this whole time. Simply distracted from that fact by the persistent, burning throb in their shoulder.

They dipped their head. How shameful. To think that they used to be able to wait through days of longing for Mother and Father’s company, without displaying signs of being anything but empty. To be able to continue through their training under a facade of normalcy, despite their mask being on the verge of cracking. They had been able to endure years of the Radiance’s torment, all her terrible dreams and her screaming voice.

Yet now? It was just a lost arm, an old wound nonetheless, but it was already tearing them apart to the point of showing such a weakened side of them.

“You seem upset,” Hornet’s voice was gentle, a tone that they had not heard in a long time. “Are you alright?”

They began to shake their head, then nodded. Then slumped over.

“Yes? No? I don’t know?” Hornet sighed. Then, to their surprise, came to sit down next to them. “Are you lost?”

A sigh.

“I certainly feel lost, Hollow. Hallownest was gone. Now so is the Infection. And the little ghost, I… I can’t find them anywhere.”

Hesitantly, they patted her back.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Me neither.

A moment of silence. Then she glanced up.

“But you’re back.”

Hollow tilted their head.

“And that’s good, isn’t it?

Nothing lasts forever.

“You’re not the Pure Vessel, and I’m not the Princess of Deepnest.”

Not Hallownest.

“You don’t have to contain the Radiance anymore.”

Not the Radiance.

Her voice turned shaky.

“I don’t have to… put our siblings to rest anymore.”

Not… Father.

“We can do whatever we want.”

Nor the mindlessness of Void.

...

But none of that really mattered in the end, did it?

“That’s right. It’s alright. It hurts. All of it hurts, but...”

Hornet smiled, and put a hand on their shoulder. For a moment, it did not hurt quite so much anymore.

“We’ll work this out together, won’t we?”

( @hawaiianbabidoll )

( @alaska-ren )

Falling. Flawed. Forsaken. Forgotten. And that sickening, sweet glow of orange.

They deserved this punishment. Every damn second of this madness. It is their sin, it is their lie that caused all this. If they had come to their father and confessed, they would die. But death was a much better fate than this.

The irony. Their end was much like their other siblings’. Falling, eternal, until the inevitable crash.

They only wanted to save their father’s kingdom. Only wanted to make them all proud. Only wanted to be who they were supposed to be.

A failure.

It’s a sea. A constant sea of faces and expectations, with two becoming larger and larger as the years passed.

One pale shining light crowned with horns. One small shell with betrayed, black eyes.

It’s their fault. Gods, it’s their fault. It’s their fault they deserve this it hurts father pleaseithurtsIdon’twantthishelphelpfaultmyfaultmYFAULTIT’SMYFAULTFATHERIT’SMINEF ATHERFATHER F A T H E R

End Me

Fathe-

The Hollow Knight shot forward and reached for their nail, only finding a warm hand holding their wrist. Flowing, gentle red filled their vision and the warm hand placed theirs back on their lap.

“Sibling,” Hornet called out again, softer this time. “You’ve been dreaming.”

Hollow lowered their head, the void inside them pulsing and making their shell cold and trembling. Hornet hesitated, and with Hollow’s nod, sat beside them. Hollow stayed still, and would have placed a calm air if they could ever do it again at all. They had no more need to hide, so why...

“Sibling!”

“Troubled mind?” Hollow huffed and looked away when Hornet chuckled. “Care to let me in?”

My mind is a dark place, sister. I do not want you to be here.

Hornet’s eyes softened before crossing her legs and hugging her knees close. “Silent as ever, sibling.” The wind crawling through the dark caverns served as her only response.

“Do you regret this? All of this?” Hollow twisted their head and their wide eyes met tired ones. Their chest squeezed in anguish, sorrow, and grief. They were not the only casualty in this war between gods. They copied Hornet’s pose, and placed their head on their only arm.

... There are many things I wish I had done, but if I were given the choice to sacrifice myself once more for our future, I would do so in a heartbeat.

Perhaps it was their shared wyrm parentage, or their bond as siblings, or just pure intuition, but Hornet more than felt Hollow’s unspoken reply. “Oh, no,” she chuckled and shook her head, “No, no, no, I won’t let you do it again.” Hornet turned her body and fully faced the sibling she grew up with for so many years. “You will not sacrifice yourself again. Not to me. Not to any of us. Not to yourself.”

Hornet stayed quiet, eyes never leaving Hollow’s lowered head. Hollow didn’t have the energy to look at her anymore, to even lift their hand anymore. Both Hornet and they were born for a purpose. With that purpose stripped away, what are they?

“We were both children, sibling,” Hornet’s words carved through the silence, and struck right into Hollow’s soul. “Children are not meant to carry something as heavy as... this.”

“It is much easier to disappear, isn’t it?” Hollow’s eyes rose to look at Hornet’s cloak, too tired to look her in the eyes. They nodded, it is easier. If they disappeared, they wouldn’t think, wouldn’t feel. They’d be so much closer to being ‘pure’.

“You know, when you were sealed in the egg, when you disappeared... When... my mother disappeared,” Hollow swallowed a lump in their throat when a tiny crack shattered Hornet’s voice. She stopped her words and looked away. Hollow watched as she swiped at her eyes and took in deep breaths.

“I have watched this kingdom grow, fall, and die. I stayed when everyone left. I could have chosen to disappear as well, it would be so easy.”

“But that is not what it means to live.” Hornet moved and placed herself in front of Hollow, her red cloak billowing around her.

“Hollow, I want you to live.”

I do not know how.

Hollow’s silence was disturbed by the rustling of fabric. They watched as Hornet dusted herself off and in moments looked as the Princess Protector of Hallownest she always was.

“Then, do you think you can walk with me, sibling?”

The tilt of her head and bright determined eyes took hold of something in Hollow’s chest. Something warm.

I think... I can walk with you, sister.

Hornet stood and offered her hand, “Together?”

Together.

( @snakeyarts )

( @nonbinary-ghost )

Hornet let out an almost imperceptible sigh as they reached the hot springs, the damp air warm against her shell. The journey from the Black Egg Temple to the Crossroad’s Hot Springs was not a long one, but it had taken her more than a day to reach it given her… charge.

Hornet glanced back at her sibling, something twisting in her shell at the sight of their battered form leaning heavily on their longnail by their one remaining arm. Their whole body shook as they panted for breath, bits of void leaking from the deep wounds in their side and the crack down their mask despite the bandages of webbing Hornet had applied. They way they slumped weakly, like an old rag doll with the stuffing worked out of its joints, made Hornet’s heart ache. They looked scant inches from death.

Hornet did her best to mask her worry, trying to exude an air of calm confidence as she stood upright, ever ready to dart forward to catch them if they stumbled. She urged them forward with a hand wave, hesitant to touch them for fear of causing them more harm. Sometimes, when hurt so gravely, it was best for one to move for oneself if possible, since one knew what ways would hurt.

The tension in Hornet’s shoulders eased only once she helped lower the once Hollow Knight into the warm waters of the hot spring, offering her hand for support as they unsteadily waded into the water. She watched in wonder as they visibly relaxed into the warmth, the flow of void leaking from their injuries slowing as white flickers of light began to float around them. Hornet was relieved to see that the graveness of their injuries did not render them completely immune to the regenerative properties of the hot springs and she finally allowed herself the tiniest glimmer of hope. Maybe…maybe they would be alright.

She glanced down at the hard, cloak-wrapped bundle clutched under her arm. Carefully, as if afraid she’d break it further, Hornet unwrapped the shattered mask from the tattered grey cloak she’d swaddled it in. That strange, twisting feeling again clawed at her chest at the mask cracked perfectly in half cradled in her hands.

Ghost…

When she had swooped into the Black Egg Temple to aid them against their sibling, Hornet had possessed little hope for any of them to survive. At best, she’d hoped to defeat the Radiance, to vanquish the infection once and for all. At worst, she knew a slow, painful fall to the void or infection would be their only end as the Radiance’s calamity continued to blaze through what little remained of Hollownest. To be perfectly honest, she had thought hardly anything at all. She only knew there was an opening for her aid, a way to give Ghost the chance they needed to enter the Hollow Knight’s dream as they had with her mother. Survival had been, frankly, the last thing on her mind.

Yet, when she had awakened once more in that temple, soft white light seeping in through the shattered ceiling to replace the fading void and haze of infection, that traitorous emotion had crept into her shell. The veins of orange infection lacing the walls of the temple withered and died, fading to black before crumbling away. That almost painful stab of hope only grew sharper when she discovered her sibling, the Hollow Knight, sprawled across the cracked ground, void dripping from their missing arm and the deep pits in their shell, but somehow, miraculously, still alive.

Ghost, however, had not been so fortunate, and the nail of remorse that had lanced through her at the sight of their shattered mask had nearly brought Hornet to her knees. It wasn’t fair. The three of them had done it. They had won. They had beat the Radiance and her infection. Together. So why, then, had she and the Hollow Knight survived, but Ghost had not?

Knowing it was futile but still harboring that foolish flicker of hope, Hornet lowered Ghost’s broken mask into a shallow edge of the spring. Maybe, if their mask was whole, Ghost could come back, as the Hollow Knight had.

The white shards stayed sharp and jagged in the murky waters, as inert and still as stone.

Hornet’s shoulders slumped and that childish hope sputtered and died in her chest.

The quiet slosh of moving water brought Hornet’s attention up to the Hollow Knight, surprised to find them moving about already as they carefully, hesitantly, shifted toward her. She blinked at the way the glowing light of the hot spring coiled around them, and for the briefest of heartbeats she imagined that light held a more yellow tinge, splaying out behind them in the Radiances starburst. She could almost imagine their eyes again alight… but no. No, the light was white and wispy, nothing more than steam, and the Hollow Knight’s one uncovered eye was a steady, empty black. The Radiance was gone. Hornet’s sibling was cured.

For a moment, Hornet put aside her disappointment over Ghost’s mask and allowed herself to revel in the relief and joy that zinged through her at the sight of the sibling she had long assumed lost to her alive, if not completely well. She searched their void-black eye for any flicker of light, as the mental image of their glowing-orange eyes seeping tears of infection refused to fade. She cringed as she recalled the way they had turned their nail on themself in a desperate attempt to cut that infection away, to prevent their body from being puppeted into hurting Ghost. She reached out a hand, not quite touching their white mask still half covered in bandages. She was not sure if her touch would be welcome, or if it would only cause her injured sibling greater distress.

“Hollow –“ she choked, surprised at the tightness in her throat. She swallowed. What was she going to say? ‘I’m glad you’re alive’? ‘I’m sorry for everything that happened’? Somehow, everything that came to mind felt inadequate and she fell back on the security of practicality. “Are you alright? Do you still hurt?”

Her sibling stared a moment, as if processing her words. Slowly, they lifted their sodden cloak to glance down at the bandages wrapped around them. Their right arm was still missing, long since eaten away by the infection and well beyond the hot spring’s ability to heal, but the dark void no longer bled from under the bandages. Hornet reached forward, intending to unwrap the webbing to take a closer look, to be certain they were no longer hurt, but the way their sibling went absolutely motionless at the movement froze her in place. She abruptly recalled that they were completely unaccustomed to such care, even prior to becoming the Hollow Knight, and the only sensation they had experienced for all this time since they was pain. Did they fear her touch, worried it would bring harm?

“I promise, I will not hurt you,” she assured them gently. “I wish only to remove the bandages. May I?”

Stare.

Then, ever so slightly, the barest nod of their mask.

Hornet carefully, oh so carefully, removed the bandages to reveal the scarred shell underneath. No longer open, bleeding wounds, the Hollow Knight’s injuries were little more than slightly duller grey scars along the perfect black of their carapace. However, when she unwrapped the bandage over the Hollow Knight’s eye, Hornet had to stifle a flicker of sorrow to find their mask still cracked. She gently cupped their cheek, staring into their eyes as a confusing swirl of emotions eddied through her. The sharp ache of hope in her chest was only sharpened by the dark coil of fear twisting and untwisting in her belly – the fear of doing too little, too late; of potentially discovering that her sibling was actually hollow after a fashion; the fear of them not. There was an uncomfortable itch of confusion somewhere in there too, at their shared survival, and a warm flicker of gratitude tainted with sorrow that they had, even if at Ghost’s expense, though it pained her to admit as much. But most of all was shame, and a steady, burning anger that pulsed in the pit of her belly at what had been done to her sibling, at what trials they had endured.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered. For what, she couldn’t quite find the words to say. How did one apologize for anything that had happened to her sibling? She knew none of what happened to them had been her fault – she had been far too young, too small, to prevent their binding. But she still felt the deepest shame at her continued inability – nay her refusal - to brake those bindings herself, at the role she played in even preserving them. A cold, fracturing pain broke her heart as she fully comprehended just how much they had suffered in all the time that had passed. How could one ever adequately apologize for that?

She could feel the Hollow Knight begin to shake slightly under her touch, their shoulders trembling as their breathing became labored. For an instant, Hornet feared something was wrong, that she’d hurt them somehow, that they might vanish in a cloud of void just as Ghost had.

But when dark tears of void began to spill from their eyes, and their quick breaths quickly dissolved into silent sobs, she realized they were probably only just beginning to process what had happened to them. She went to withdraw her hand, intending to give them space, but their own hand quickly covered hers and they leaned into her touch. Surprise pulsed through her at the motion, at the clear assertion of want without her prompting. An instinct Hornet had long thought dead had the spiderling wading into the water with her sibling and wrapping her arms around their shoulders. They were so much bigger than she that she had to stand to give them a hug, even as they remained seated. But the way they clung to her as shuddering sobs raked through them made them feel so small and fragile in her arms, and she blinked away tears of her own. She gently stroked their back as they cried, holding them tight as if her arms alone could keep them from falling apart. She found herself murmuring that it was okay, that they could cry now, they could let themself feel. The Radiance was destroyed, her infection gone. They had done it - they had kept their oath despite it all. She promised them they were safe. They were free.

For how long they remained like that, Hornet could only guess. Her back and arms had long since begun to ache at holding her much larger sibling aloft, but she steadfastly refused to be the first to draw away. Her sibling needed her, and this time wyrm damn it she was going to be here.

After a time, the Hollow Knight’s breathing slowed, and their shaking lessened. She let them draw away at the slightest tug. The last thing she wanted to do was make them feel trapped. Their white mask was stained with dark streaks and she retrieved one of the bandages to wipe it clean. Her sibling pressed their mask into her hand as she worked and she got the sense that they were trying to express a form of gratitude. Relief and joy had begun to overwhelm all the other emotions that still twisted in Hornet’s chest – not quite replacing them but at least quelling them. Her sibling was alive, and this time they were free. It felt a wonder that such a thing could be possible, and some small part of Hornet swelled with pride at the knowledge that she had helped make this happen, even if mostly unintentionally. She vowed that this time, she would make certain they got to live fully and freely.

Her thumb brushed the jagged edge of the crack in their mask and Hornet’s mind began to search for ways to make things better for her sibling, needing to prove to them through actions that they truly were safe now. That she cared.

“I wonder if the Mask Maker could repair this,” she mused, her thoughts drifting to the strange recluse who lived above her home in Deepnest. She knew he had been the one too craft the Hollow Knight’s mask as they grew up, since the vessels were incapable of molting like an average bug. If he was still alive, maybe the Mask Maker could help heal her sibling.

A thought occurred to her with a cold prickling across her shell and Hornet turned to Ghost’s mask still sitting broken in the water.

Perhaps…

Hollow let Hornet pull her hand away and she carefully plucked those white shards from the water, re-wrapping them in Ghost’s old cloak. Her motions were quick with a new purpose and the Hollow Knight stared at her, their confusion clear in the tilt of their head.

“I have an idea,” she admitted, tucking the bundle in a silk bag under her cloak. A fragile hope had begun to rekindle in her chest. “There might be a way to get Ghost back.”

She paused, then asked, “Do you want to come with me?”

( https://twitter.com/RannHKnight )

( @enbeebo )

( @jenmodri )

( https://twitter.com/hakunoknight )

( @lickthejam )

#hollowknight #hollow knight #telephoneknight #otherart #otherfic #giftcorner #fanart #long post #gOD Rann blew me away with their comic #ohmygod im still #✨ .O. ✨

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hikarimiyanaga · 4 years ago

Text

I'll Always Be Yours Pt. 2

Pt. 1

Second Song: Eroplanong Papel (Paper Airplane)

You finally leave Russia to go to America and try to find the love of your life.

An update!?

I just need to write three more songs and I will finally finish this series. And while doing that I'm also writing a Wanda fanfic too.

.....

I'm suddenly writing fanfics again, considering that there's like a hundred plots waiting for me in my phone.

*shrugs*

Oh well. Inspiration hits when Inspiration hits.

Warning : More Angst

Wait, don't be filled with misery

The hope you dream of will also come

Isn't it enough that you have love

In your heart that is irreplaceable?

You smiled

You yawn as you go through the mall. You’ve finally decided to come to America to hopefully find Natalia. It’s been a week since you’ve got here.

“Y/N?” A hopeful voice calls out your name and you turn eagerly… only to be met by fangirls.

“Yes. It’s me.” They squeal and ask for photos, which you oblige to. When they leave, you sigh in relief.

“Rough girls?” You grin as you face Silvia. She’s your bodyguard who doesn’t really stop fangirls because she’s one of them. She’s been a fan of your paintings since you started.

“Not really. Just… America is intense.” Silvia scoffs at that.

“More intense than Russia?” You laugh at that and shake your head.

“Than Philippines.”

“Ah.” You hum and the two of you begin walking again. As you walk by a fountain, you could see that it’s base was occupied by couples. And you can’t help but remember her.

Her soft lips that you can’t get enough of. Her hands that seemed to mold with yours. Her sexy body that you can’t stop worshipping. Her voice that pants out your name. Her laugh that you could equivalate to heaven.

A single lone tear escapes your eye and Silvia eyes you worriedly. You quickly wipe the tear away and wave away her concern. And then you smile. Those memories… you hope to make them anew and add even more to them. God, you hope you’re not too late.

Blow the wind in your hand cold

Moaning voice, in my hearing

Your thoughts and feelings will fly away

Can it still get to her side?

You close your eyes

It’s winter now. You write in your journal. You decided to let Silvia on her own vacation after she spent the last five months with you just roaming around on this country. You blow into your gloved hands, hoping to ease the cold. You were in Alaska and it was cold as fuck. Damn.

Journal, it’s been months since I’ve been here… Can I ever find her? Is there hope? Even if there isn’t. I just want to see her one more time. To remember why I wake up every day. Why I still wait for her heart to come back to mine. I don’t care if she’s happy with another person or if she’s forgotten me. Just please. Let me see her. Let me see the love of my life.

You whine as you put your pen down. That’s it. Tomorrow, you’re leaving… Is this why your mom makes sure to leave Russia when winter comes around? Goddamn, you’re lucky she always takes you to the Philippines for Christmas. You read over your words and close the journal. You close your eyes and hope the words reach her.

‘Please, whoever the fuck I have to believe I will believe. Just. Let me see her again.’

If my prayers are not heard

Reach out at every moment

I have to shout, I'm yours

The prayer of the heart is you

You’re in Los Angeles now. You’ve been here for three days and you’ve been drunk every single night. It was a temporary high, you know, but it makes you forget about her even if it’s just for the night. You stumble upon your hotel room and reach the balcony. You’re not that drunk to think to jump off from the 15th floor but you’re that drunk to shout out your frustrations.

“GODDAMN IT!” You shout and no one replies, only various car noises and loud music. “JUST ONCE! FUCKING HELL! I JUST NEED TO SEE HER AGAIN!” You didn’t care if it was hurting your voice. You wanted to do something to ease the pain you’ve been feeling. You sob as you slide down on the floor. “I JUST WANT TO SEE NATALIA AGAIN!” You punch the floor and wince as your fist connected to the solid rock. “I’M STILL YOURS, NATALIA! PLEASE!” You breakdown and sob as you hug your knees to your chest.

Damn it. It was the only thing your heart wanted. Her. So why can’t you find her?

“Goddamn it.” You say and you sob again.

Wait, don't hold back your tears

Your feelings will rise to the ceased destiny

Your palm will reach the desire

Can it still get to her side?

You close your eyes

You were now in a random mall. You took a deep breath when you see her red hair. You were about to call out when she kisses the man behind her and all of your words. Your declarations of love get stuck in your throat. And all you can think about-

“Oh.” You say then you laugh. Many people look at you but not her. Never her. It seems that she has really forgot you. Your tears fall down before you can even stop and you cover your mouth to not let the sobs out. Then you realize… was it really her? You stop outside and you see them both get into the car. You meet her eyes for a second and all you could see was unfamiliar. She was not yours anymore. She’s not the Natalia you always knew. The Natalia that you’ve loved. But as the man pulls away from the parking lot, you hold a fist over your heart… Because damn it. She really does still have that effect on you. You close your eyes as you hear their car drive away. You let the pain wash over your whole body and you kneel.

You finally saw Natalia again… But she was not yours anymore. You sob louder this time as you make your way to your car. You lock it and sob your heart out.

And with every stiffness of my resentment

You will not be approached

I’ll Just beg

If my prayers are not heard

Reach out at every moment

I have to shout, I'm yours

The prayer of the heart is you

You stand outside the Avengers Compound and sigh. You researched on her. She goes by Natasha now. You resent her. You gave away your life for her. Every single time that people begged you to let her go and you still held on. You gave away every single year just to fucking wait for her. To make sure that she has someone to go home to. And she was here. Enjoying life with Steve Rogers. The wonder boyfriend. Captain America himself. You scoff as you let the pain take over your heart.

“Hello?” You turn and see Steve Fucking Rogers himself approach you. He’s holding bags of groceries and you smile sadly at him. “Can I help you, ma’am?” He asks politely and you almost punch him… but you knew that it wouldn’t do anything. He’s a super soldier for fuck’s sake… and you… you’re just you. Nothing but a past memory and a phantom from her previous life.

“Just.” You pause as you try to get the words out. “Please. Take care of her.” He tilts his head in confusion.

“Who?”

“Nat.” You grin.

“Oh. Do you know her?” You shake your head at him and begin walking away. Tears fall down as you walk away from the compound’s gates.

“Well, that was weird.” Steve says as he steps into the kitchen.

“What was?” Natasha asks as she eats the remaining sandwich that she got herself.

“There was someone outside. A woman.”

“And?”

“She was just staring at the compound when I arrived. Then she asked me to take care of you.”

“What? Me?”

“Yeah. Nat can only be you, right?” She drops her sandwich and grabs Steve’s collars.

“What direction did she go?” Steve furrows his brows at her behavior.

“To the park? Do you know her?” Natasha nods and quickly gets her jacket and wait for the elevator to take her down.

“I think so!” She answers as the doors closes.

She runs to the park and tries to find you. She smiles as she spots your hooded figure. She runs to you but she slowly comes to a stop as she hears you sing. And oh was your voice beautiful to her ears. But your tone… You were crying as you sang.

You let the music drown out your pain and you begin singing along as you cry. It was as if these lyrics were made for you. You sang in Filipino as you learned it in all your trips there.

Natasha cries silently as she listens to your broken voice. Your quiet sobs and hiccups. What has she done? Why didn’t she come for you sooner? She’s always thought that you were better off without her. That being with her meant that you were also in danger. But as you sit there, singing while crying, she couldn’t help but want to punch herself. You’re crying. And goddamn it, if you were not beautiful. Natasha never forgot you.

She sits besides you and you don’t notice, still wanting to get all of your pain out before you go back. Before you paint again. You finally stop and pant.

“Nice song.” She says but you don’t answer. You were still trying to catch your breath. And she let you rest before talking again. “Y/N.” She calls out but you don’t answer again. Were you avoiding her? She then notices the earphones on your ears and how she can faintly hear music. God. How loud was the thing?

You close your eyes and sigh. She takes an earphone out and you flinch away as you stand. Who the fuc-? Your words die on your mouth, the moment you see her.

“Nat.” You say softly and she smiles at you.

“Y/N.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted-“

“It’s too late, Nat.” She flinches and you take a step back. You run a hand through your hair. “You should go back and I will too.” You put on your hoodie and power walk away from her.

Nat was about to go after you when her phone suddenly rings. She sighs and answers it when she sees that it’s Fury.

A/N:

I'm not crying, you are. Also, no one can stop me from killing myself with Angst.

I'm considering of posting for everyday if possible? Considering I'm going to be home, doing absolutely nothing since Professor are actually considerate for our health... Which is new.

So if I do finish some time this day or next week, then everyday it is.

#Natasha Romanoff x reader #Marvel #Marvel fanfic #Natasha Romanoff fanfic #natasha x you #Natasha x Fem!Reader #Black Widow x Reader #Black Widow x you

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