#Child running out into the road is most terrifying scenario!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theredsuzuran · 4 years ago

Text

Muzan x reader ~ Lily

This is a song fanfiction on the song Lily by Alan Walker, k-391 and Emelie hollow. This story is inspired by the Japanese legend of yamato no orochi. I might do a second part as well. It's my first ever fanfiction so please excuse my mistakes.

Warning : mention of slight gore and blood

Enjoy

Lily was a little girl

Every decade on the night of full moon the first born female child of (L/n) clan are sent as bride to a powerful demon named Akai lurking on the mountain of Akakura which was believed to be inhabited by oni from ancient times. Your great grandfather and his then pregnant wife was attacked by that demon although on their constant begging and vows of servicing to the demon he spared their lives but on one condition that was they needed to send him one girl from their household every decade on this very full moon night. Your sisters and aunts, who you never get to see were presented to that oni. You being the oldest daughter of your family was nominated as the bride this year.

Afraid of the big wide world

When you first get to know about this, you were absolutely terrified and angry of the idea to be separated from your parents and siblings in order to serve your duty as a bride to that potentially harmful demon who you knew would devour you as you never saw any of your elder sisters or aunts come back therefore it was nothing but a human sacrifice in your judgment and being a child it horrified you, often causing nightmares of the said demon. From a very tender age you were brainwashed that the outside world was a dangerous place and it consists of unknown creatures lurking around the earth's surface with the sole purpose of causing grave harm to people. Being a child you were easily convinced but as you grew older your curiosity got the best of you as well as the urge for understanding the outside world became a necessity.

She grew up within her castle walls

Now and then she tried to run

And then on the night with the setting sun

She went in the woods away

So afraid, all alone.

As a child most of the time you were confined inside the four walls of your room, you were not allowed to go out unless required. There were servants who tended you day and night. It was necessary because the child for the sacrifice should be flawless in every aspect and most importantly healthy or else great catastrophe would fell upon your family. Sometimes you wish you were a sick person. That doesn't mean you didn't try to run away from home. Every now and then you tried escaping from your residence and one time during sunset you were successful in escaping, that was for the first time you went out from your house, you ran miles and miles away, bare foot. For the first time in life you were so far away from home you never imagined this day might come. The softness of the green grass beneath your feet, the fresh air lingering in the atmosphere made your heart giddy. As you stopped running for a while you encountered the sight of a city in which there were lots of people gathering around the street, both men, women and children of your age wearing lavish clothing and accessories, you have zero social interaction skills, servents being an exception even your parents also were not available all the time, on top of that you were timid and young, this overwhelming crowd of unknown people startled you which was honestly frightening but you were determined. Therefore you brush off your worries in order to explore the city, you were happened to be in the middle of a festival, which you seem to know since your servants who served under (L/n) family often talk about such festivals obviously they are not allowed to discuss such things infront of you but somehow you managed to eavesdrop and acquire information. Festivals are truly majestic, it was way better than the stories you have heard from the maids at your residence. It was colourful, lively, cheerful, loud nothing like the world you are used to see. There were various stalls consisting of items like jewelry, cloths that are being displayed on the street, on both sides of the road. The the smell of hot dishes like yakisoba, Takoyaki and ikayaki from different stalls hitting your nostrils making your mouth watery. As you were wandering around aimlessly, admiring the lighting and beauty of the festival, you bumped into a bunch of drunk men, you quickly turned away to apologize but a man with rough demeanor pulled your arm and started throwing curses at your way which definitely made you uncomfortable as you looked around to ask for help but none of them responded or came to your aid.

"look where you walking, brat!"

"I am sorry, please forgive me" you were not accustomed to such rude behavior as your maids and servants and even your family members were gentle towards you which was likely because you came from a very wealthy family. Which was quite visible by those men by the way you dressed, expensive (f/c) kimono wrapped around your figure made with the finest silk in the country and the gold hair pin tucked in your smooth (h/c) hair.

They warned her, don't go there

There's creatures who are hiding in the dark.

"What's with the hurry miss, join us for a bit?" With that said from the other guy, your eyes widened, you tried your best not to cry, they warned me your mind started to race with the worst case scenario as you started to remind your parents word about the outside world but you came back to your senses as they yanked you down the alley. Your heartbeat increasing rapidly, sweat covering your (s/c) countenance, your mind was going blank but you snapped out from your thoughts as you noticed the man's arm closed to your face without wasting any time you bit the man harshly causing him to drop your hand, taking advantage of that situation you ran towards the opposite direction earning screams and curses from behind. You didn't try looking back but you knew they were chasing you from behind. You stumble across the way as never in your life you ran so fast and somehow manage to get into the wood. Being exhausted and breathless you collapsed onto the ground. The sound of footsteps growing lounder as they were approaching you, tears stared to form up in your face am I going to die?

"Found you kitten" one of the drunkards chasing you commented, grabbing a handful of your (h/l)(h/c) hair roughly, lifting you up from the ground, then he took out a knife from his pocket and brought that near your neck in order to create a minor cut which begun bleeding instantly. You screamed in pain but no words came out from your mouth, you felt completely defeated and tired. There was no hope. You felt as if you were going to die but you didn't want to. Yet.

Then something came creeping

It told her, don't you worry just-

Suddenly rustling of leaves and bushes were heard from afar which caught you and the rest suprised.

"Who's there?" The man holding you shouted but complete silence was observed. This pissed off the man even more and he shouted angrily this time with more intensity.

"Come out or I will kill this girl in this instance" no sooner did the words left the man's mouth than he saw you were out of his sight and standing before him was a slender pale man in his late twenties having remarkable dark curly hair and plum red eyes contrasting his features sharply. He was holding you firmly but gently in his arm.

"How did you-"

You saw his eyes glowing under the moonlight pointing directly towards those men, his glare was deadly and menacing which could make anyone fall on their knees. One of the men began to charge towards you but his attempt went futile because the man holding you kicked the man with such immense strength that he went flying over the air and died a painful death crashing loudly against the ground snapping his neck in the process. The other man in feat of pure rage tried to punch that mysterious man but his head exploded due to the pressure of that raven hair blocking his attack. The other man who watched all of that fainted. It was a gruesome scene for you to witness but you tried your best not to cry because the man infront of you just saved your life.

"Thank you mister for saving my life, I thought I was going to die if it were not you I'd be dead, I appreciate your help" your voice still shaking, you lowered your head and then look up for the first time his red orbs met your (e/c) ones. The moonlight reflected through the branches of the trees made you see his face clearly, you have not interacted with men before except your father, siblings and uncles so being closed with a man this handsome made you a little nervous. You could feel your blood rush through your cheeks. Seeing you nervous made him chuckle slightly, he gently put you down on the ground from his arm.

Follow everywhere I go

"A young girl like you should not be roaming around in the woods late at night, there are a lot of people and creatures having full intent to hurt fragile beings like yourself" he spoke to you with his calm, monotonous voice.

"Yes you are right mister and I apologize for causing you trouble but I really needed to come out" you replied with a soft hum. Which made that man curious.

"Is that so? What's your name child?"

"My name is (y/n)(l/n), and yours?"

"Muzan kibutsuji"

A perfect chance for him to devour this girl which was driving him crazy because of the aroma she was emitting, he can take full advantage of this situation, there was no way in hell this girl could protect herself as minutes ago she was cowering with fear and misery, how pathetic he thought.

"I was meaning to say this for a long time now kibutsuji san you have the most beautiful pair of eyes, it's very unique, I am glad to meet you" the sudden compliment coming from you widened his eyes. He have been living for a thousand years now both humans and his underlings alike are scared of him even his demons admire and respect him out of fear. All of them knew how ruthless, manipulative, egoistic and deceitful this man is but this girl shows her genuine gratitude towards him even though she is vulnerable and exposed. What a clueless human he thought letting her guard down to none other but the dangerous Muzan kibutsuji. There was pure innocence in her voice and glowing admiration in her eyes, gleaming with positive energy which evoked strong emotions in all his seven hearts that were stoned ever since he abandoned his humanity.

"Its dangerous for you to go back alone let me escort you home" the demon replied which you gladly accepted. For now.

Muzan held your hand tightly as the two of you began to walk out from the forest and enter the town again, talking on the way, learning about each other.

"How old are you (y/n) chan?"

"I am 13 years old, kibutsuji san"

"Muzan will be fine, (y/n)"

"Sure Muzan!" You smiled enthusiastically, you enjoyed his company as you were not allowed to have friends it made your heart flutter with an unexpected feeling of warmth. You wanted to clinge on it. Never in your life you felt so secure and content.

Top over the mountains or valley low

"Say (y/n), why did you ran away from home?" Muzan asked

"I don't want to get sacrificed to the oni" you replied with sudden drop to your voice. Muzan stopped walking and looked down at you with concern written over his face, he didn't know why he was acting this way but there was this sudden urge to keep you safe, the thought of seeing you suffer made him somewhat sick to his stomach.

"What oni?" He asked this time holding your shoulders gently, he could say you were scare to talk about this but somehow you felt at ease around him which you never felt towards anyone, you started to trust him even though you just met him.

"There has been an old tradition in my family for generations, every decade on the night of full moon the first born female child of our family is sacrificed to the oni living on the mountain of akakura for last 50 years, I am next in line that's why I was running away, I am not ready to die" you replied almost sobbing

Give you everything you've been dreaming of

Just let me in

"Once I attain the age 18, I will too be send to the oni as his bride" tears came rolling down your cheek, the demon lord can sense your terror which you were trying to hide. What a pitiful creature, I shall be your savior he thought to himself.

"You are a brave girl, I admire your inner strength (y/n)" he cupped your face with his arms, caressing your features softly brushing away the tear drop forming in your eyes.

"I don't know for how long" you replied smiling a bit. appreciating his effort to soothe your anxiety.

Everything you want in gold, I'll be the magic story you've been told

Everything was good until you heard your name coming across the other end of the street, it was two of your servants and your uncle approaching both you and Muzan. The look in your face suddenly changed to that of a drastic one, the slight flush which covered your countenance few seconds ago was gone and was replaced with a pale look similar to that of muzan's. It was evident to the demon from your expressions that it was rather unpleasant for you even though they seem to know you and by judging the looks of your uncle, he figured you two are related.

"Where have you gone milady?" One of your maid came rushing towards you, but you hid behind muzan's back averting your gaze from the maiden and your uncle. As you could feel an intense glare coming from him. Thanks to your uncle you are in great trouble now.

"My name is (u/n)(L/n), this girl's uncle, I apologize on behalf of my niece for causing you trouble" the (h/c) hair man said to muzan.

"I am Tsukihiko kibutsuji, Do not worry about that and (y/n) didn't create any disturbance" it would be a bit suspicious to you that why muzan lied to your uncle about his real name if he didn't mention he was a demon earlier when you two were conversing and he needs to hide his identity in order to survive.

"Thank you so much for your help, (L/n) family will owe you for this" he bowed to muzan showing his gratitude towards him while glancing at you with the corner of his eyes.

"You here young lady, I hope you won't run away like this you could have just asked our servants or me if you really wanted to go out that badly, you have made your mother worried sick" the man cooed directing towards you.

𝚕𝚒es you thought You'd never let me go out, you are only behaving nicely because of muzan.

"(Y/n)" the soothing voice hit your ears and you looked up to see muzan "you must go back home, as your uncle stated they must be really worried, right?"

You felt really defeated but you decided to let go of him, he already saved you from a great disaster. It would be selfish of you to ask for more but you really hoped he'd help. Before you headed back you asked turning your head back at his direction.

And you'll be safe under my control

"We will still be friends right?" Muzan was taken aback friends? He thought a genuine smile appearing on his face. He nodded at you which made you sigh with relief and then you waved goodbye to him in the hope of seeing him again someday, your first friend.

"Yes (y/n), we will meet again"

Just let me in, ooh.

#kimetsu no yaiba #muzan kibutsuji #kny muzan #muzan x reader #fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #demon lord #demon x reader #anime

152 notes · View notes

wallwriterstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Obsession ||Yandere!Alec Volturi x Female Reader|| Part 1

Warnings: Yandere!Alec, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships and implied non-con later on. This is possibly one of the darkest fics I have ever written so please be aware if controlling behaviour, gaslighting etc. If this is triggering to you, do not read this fic. This and posts like this one will be tagged under dark themes so please feel free to block that tag if you do not want to see content like this in the future.

The following link will take you to a Citizen’s Advice Page that have resources regarding Domestic abuse and violence. They detail various organisations offering support, refuge and advice for both women and men in abusive situations, however these only apply to the UK.

https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/family/gender-violence/domestic-violence-and-abuse-getting-help/

I am from the UK and therefore am not sure about what resources may be available internationally, however I know many of you are from places outwith the UK. If you have any resources you know of that would be useful or helpful to add here then please do! You can reblog this post with link in or message me a link to have me edit it into the original. I will post this link and any that get added in all three parts of this fic that I post.

Words: 3116

Summary: A request for @tiger-khans-blog Savings your sister’s boyfriend was an act of kindness, something you had done out of the goodness of your heart, but hadn’t they always said the road to hell is paved with good intentions? Alec is aged up to 16 in this fic.

Part 2: When You’re Lost I’ll Leave My Gaslight On

Part 3: These Violent Delights

It had been near constant since you’d entered the room.

His eyes were the most piercing ruby red – until they weren’t. The onyx colour had followed you ever since you’d set foot in the throne room, a sharp inhale being the extent of his communication with you. If he wasn’t so damn creepy he might have been handsome, with his shock of dark hair framing a pale face with all the sharp, angular cheekbones and jawline of a model. He was taller to, definitely taller than you by at least half a head, but his stare was piercing and completely at odds with his otherwise apathetic expression. He showed no emotion at all yet the way he looked at you…it was like the whole world revolved around you and only you. There was hunger and excitement and need and envy and a whole host of other emotions in his eyes. It had made you so uncomfortable you’d gravitated towards Alice as best you could, but the whole plan had gone out of the window when the hulking mass of muscle they called Felix started towards your sister.

Isabella Swan was two years older than yourself, but for most of your life she had been the one taking care of you. Renée hadn’t planned on having a second child but like so many other things in her life, you were a complete accident. As loving as your mother was, she wasn’t necessarily fit to take care of one child, never mind two. Bella was the one who had helped with homework, who had crawled into your bed with you when you had nightmares or were sick. To see Felix coming straight for her was like something straight out of a nightmare and you’d moved without thinking. One minute you were facing the taunting smirk of a mountain man and the next the room had blurred, and your vision was filled with the furious stare of the boy who had been watching you all day.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. His grip on the tops of your arms tight enough to bruise. You winced, wide eyes filling with tears, and in the next second the boy had released your arms and moved to tenderly cup your face. “Shhh, shhhh sh sh, it’ll all be over soon.” He promised, thumbs stroking your cheeks while you tried to squirm out of his grip. His eyes hardened, clearly unhappy with you trying to escape him. You could only see him, his face the only thing in your vision, but you could hear what sounded like rocks colliding, granite smashing. Your body trembled, anxiety filling you up. It wasn’t clear if the boy was more upset with your trying to get out of his grip than your interference with Bella’s execution, but those coal black eyes never lost their laser focus on you.

“Alec?” the petite blonde beside him sounded thoroughly confused while you fought off a shudder. You hated how his name sounded so appealing. Everything about him was enticing, even his scent, but he terrified you beyond belief with the way he was acting.

“Is it the noise? Would you prefer not to see? To hear?” he asked. In the next second it was all gone, like the world had fallen away around you. You couldn’t see, couldn’t hear; you were left screaming in your own head with absolutely no idea if you were still in that awful, awful room or if your soul had mercifully fled your body before you could feel any pain. There was simultaneously nothing and everything, an endless abyss of silence and the imprecise, ever-shifting image of what you thought you remembered the Volturi’s throne room to look like wavering in your head.

Being left alone with your imagination was somehow worse than seeing the actual thing. In your mind Bella was torn in half, one hand stretched towards you while the other remained in Felix’s grip. Alice was trapped by Demetri, Felix holding Edward by the throat. Then the scene would shift and Bella was limp in his arms with Felix’s mouth attached to her neck, both Cullen’s dead and Alec descending on you with that insane stare of his. There were too many ways to envision what mutilation might have occurred and you were beginning to drive yourself insane with them when suddenly the darkness faded.

You blinked rapidly, unsure if what you were seeing was real since it was so blurred. A gentle hand dabbed rough wool beneath your eye and you realised the world looked so watery because you had been crying. Alec used the sleeves of his jacket to dry your tears. Bella was watching you with horror filled eyes, your trembling body almost giving way as you fought the urge to run – you were sure Alec would just drag you back. You could feel his breath on the side of your face. He clearly didn’t understand the concept of personal space.

“Mesmerising, to see what you have seen before it has happened.” Aro murmured, stroking Alice’s hand before she pulled it back with a clearly forced smile.

“But what will.” She reminded him. He clapped his hands, looking so joyful you were left utterly paralysed with confusion. Did he not understand how terrifying this all was? Had he not seen the sheer crazy that was waiting to burst forth out of the boy holding you back? His behaviour was erratic, completely at odds with the rest of the refined and well disciplined Guard. How could Aro not see?

“Yes, yes it’s quite certain, you are free to leave.” Aro informed them. Your breath escaped you in a rush and you immediately tried to dash for your sister. Bella had opened her arms straight to you and the safe haven was so close, yet so far. Alec didn’t let you take a step, hauling you back against his chest and burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“No you don’t, I’ve waited too long.” He grumbled. You struggled frantically, the tears springing to your eyes again as Caius tried to protest his brother’s decision. You had drawn the attention of most of the Guard and the man you knew to be Marcus by now though, the brunette king looking somewhat sympathetic towards you. For a man with no respect for human life to look at you like that could most certainly not be a good thing.

“What are you doing brother? Let the foolish thing go.” Jane said, reaching for his arm. His head snapped up, a growl rumbling through his chest into your spine. If looks could kill, you had no doubt the petite blonde would have burst into flame then and there, bursting into a thousand pieces with the intensity of the danger in his glare.

“Bella!” you whimpered. His hold was like having an iron beam wrapped around your torso, two strong arms refusing to let you move so much as an inch from his chest. It didn’t make sense, none of it did, why was he so obsessed with keeping you near? Did he want you dead? He couldn’t, he’d had plenty of chance to do so by now and hadn’t taken a single opportunity to hurt you on purpose. So what was his problem with you?

“Alec, dear one, is something the matter?” Aro asked, eyes glistening.

“Aro.” His brother held a hand out to him and the black haired leader flashed towards him while you continued to struggle, your frustration mounting.

“Let me go!” you cried, You stomped on his foot – nothing. You threw your elbow back into his ribs – nothing except a sore elbow for you. You tried to pry his arms away from your body – nothing.

“No.” he hissed. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Let me go! Please! Let me go!” you begged.

“I said, no.” he repeated, his voice ice cold. Your heart rabbited in your chest, the nausea in your throat rising until you were sure you were on the verge of throwing up. You could barely breathe and it wasn’t just his tight grip that was the problem. There was a panic attack looming on the horizon for you if he kept this up.

“Please, let her go, she’s done nothing wrong. Aro said we were free to go.” Bella tried. She took a step towards you and with one swift jerk he had turned his back on her. You screamed, your limbs fatigued and losing strength with every hit.

“I’m afraid young Y/N will not be going home with you,” Aro’s voice was soft, “To separate them would clearly only cause harm. Alec cannot leave his mate.” You froze in his grip, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as you lip trembled. Mate? Mate? What the hell did that even mean? Animals mated, not humans! Was that what he was implying? The boy was so horny for you he wouldn’t let you leave? The fear that gripped you was utterly paralysing as you thought of a thousand different scenarios that made you want to be utterly sick with the horror of them; your choices taken from you, your voice inconsequential as he did things to you you never consented to.

“She’s my sister! Please, I’ve looked after her since she was born, you can’t just-“

“And from this day forth she’ll be looked after by me. She is mine.” Alec snarled quietly. He didn’t seem to notice you’d gone completely rigid in his grip.

“Alec her father will be devastated, she hasn’t even finished school, if you keep her here you’ll just make her unhappy.” Edward tried to reason with him, but he merely tightened his grip on you. You cried out, a sharp pain ripping through your midriff as he almost choked the life from you. The blonde-haired Guard appeared in your line of sight then, his expression somewhat concerned as you struggled to force air into your lungs. If Alec could hear you rasping for air he didn’t show it.

“Alec, old friend look at her,” he coaxed. Alec had done plenty of looking at you, you didn’t want him to look anymore. You shied away from his gaze, head ducking and hair falling between you. Shuddering gasps escaped you as your heart began to roar in your ears, a sure sign there wasn’t enough oxygen getting into your lungs. One arm moved from around your waist but you were too scared to move away from him now, his freezing cold fingers gently brushing your hair back. You flinched.

“She’s mine, Demetri.” He insisted, frowning like a petulant child who was being threatened with their favourite toy being taken from them. Demetri nodded his head.

“She is, and yet she flinches from you. You are scaring her Alec, and she will most definitely bruise if you keep holding her so tight, that’s I she doesn’t suffocate first. Do you want that for your mate? Do you wish to hurt her? To make her fear you?” he questioned. Alec gave a soft wince, immediately loosening his grip.

“I’ve hurt you?” he asked, looking a lot like a wounded puppy now. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, not trusting your voice to remain steady and simply nodding in response. His eyes were still wide with conflicting emotion, but Demetri seemed to be getting through to him at least. You were grateful, and pleaded with your eyes for the man to keep going.

“You cannot simply claim her Alec, she is so young still, would you not prefer her to live a full life and come to you willingly?” Demetri wondered. You felt your stomach drop as Alec’s expression hardened.

“You’re trying to take her from me to.” he growled.

“Alec you are-“

“She, is, not, leaving!” he snarled, a sea of black exploding around him. Your eyes widened, a cool mist swirling about your legs as you finally managed to stumble away from him. Only Bella was still standing, the others having crumpled to the floor until only he, you and Bella remained conscious.

“Y/N!” she cried out. He didn’t stop you running to her this time. You stumbled into her arms, sobbing and shaking. She held you tight to her, her fingers pressing harshly into her skin. It felt like butterfly wings caressing your flesh compared to Alec’s vice like grip. “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out, it’ll be okay, you just have to-“

“Make this quick, say goodbye to your sister. That’s what you want isn’t it? A proper goodbye?” Alec asked, mist still pouring from his hands as his black eyes followed your every move. You shook your head frantically.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, I want to go home! Let me go home!” you begged. Alec hissed.

“What don’t you understand? You are my mate! I’ve waited a thousand years for you, you are mine and you cannot walk away from me!” he snapped. Bella tried to hush you, stroking your hair gently as you collapsed into her.

“Please don’t let him keep me here.” You cried. Bella remained silent, horribly, startlingly silent. Her hands shook as she held you close. Alec approached you, the mist seemingly absorbing back into his body as he walked. The room was in an uproar as soon as everyone was on their feet again, Felix and Demetri forcing him to his knees with furious expressions. He still never took his eyes off of you, his expression devoid of any and all emotion suddenly.

“Are you insane Alec? Using your gift on us? We’re trying to help you!”

“How could you brother? You broke our promise and for a human no less!”

“What insolence is this? Need we remind you of your place boy!”

Alec didn’t respond to any of the accusations, his neck straining so he could keep his eyes on you. Aro only had to touch his hand to know his intentions for you, but you didn’t dare look anymore, choosing instead to bury your face in your sister’s neck as you struggled to calm your breathing and sobbing.

“I would advise you leave now.” Felix huffed.

“We can’t,” Edward’s voice was quiet, apologetic, “Y/N, if we take you, he’ll destroy us all.” Your chest constricted, you felt like you could barely breathe as a lead weight settled in your gut. Destroy them? Alec was a killer, if the red eyes hadn’t told you so then his actions just now had. It wasn’t difficult at all to believe he’d go so far as to kill anyone who stood between you both, but what hurt even more was that you didn’t trust him to be good to you if you stayed either. Why did it have to be you? You’d come to Volterra to do something good, to save someone’s life! So why were you losing yours?

“You ought think on your actions Alec, your mate will be here waiting for you, but for now you need some time to reflect on your position. I think two weeks in the dungeons ought to suffice.” Aro’s voice was ice cold, his fury obvious. Clearly, he had never thought one of his own guard would dare use his powers against him.

“You monster! You fucking monster! Edward I can’t leave her here, she’s my baby sister!” Bella protested. You tightened your grip on her shirt, eyes itchy red and cheeks wet as the terrible weight of hopelessness sank down on your chest. There was no way out. Even if they had tricked Alec and let you leave what then? Did you run from him for the rest of your life? Did you just wait for him to find you? Maybe the dungeon might mellow him out some? It was a bit of a relief really, when the stress just shut your brain and body down, even if the moment of relief was as brief as blinking.

You could almost pretend nothing had ever happened, that perhaps you were at home, as your consciousness dripped back into you. You were on soft sheets, your pillow cradling your head, and you wanted to just burrow away in them. The only thing was, you could feel sunlight warming your skin, and that addictive, woodsy smell was not the lavender your laundry usually came out smelling like. You felt awfully nauseous for a moment when you opened your eyes, your body readjusting to having your brain in control once more, but the red eyes that met yours were far kinder this time than Alec’s aggressively territorial stare. The chestnut brown hair and angular face was familiar to you, and you warily sat up to lean back against the headboard. Demetri let you put the distance between you with an aura of calm that tempted you to relax to. He was alone, no Felix or Jane by his side, but that didn’t mean he was any less dangerous.

“Where’s Bella?” you whispered. She had to be somewhere nearby. Maybe she was in the bathroom? Or had gone to find food and drink? How long had you even been out? Whose room was this?

“She and the Cullen’s departed for their return flight to America not an hour ago.” Demetri informed you. Your stomach dropped, your nausea rising and face paling.

“No…no she – she didn’t leave me here, she didn’t….you’re lying!” Knees curling to your chest, you gripped tightly at your jeans until your knuckles turned as white as your face.

“Not without protest,” he assured you, his voice softer now with sympathy, “But it seems Alec has become unpredictable. His reaction to the mate pull unnerved us all, you are not alone in your fear, though perhaps we fear different things.” His voice was soothing in a way not much else to you was right now. Thoughts swirled in your mind, the bitterness at your abandonment only outweighed by terror at being left behind.

“What is he going to do to me?” you asked, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. Demetri’s head tilted.

“And that is why I am afraid…I truly cannot tell you.” He murmured. He didn’t exactly comfort you when the tears came again, your eyes beyond irritated with all the crying you’d done today, but he didn’t stop you from letting your emotions run away from you instead. He remained close enough to remind you you weren’t alone, but Demetri didn’t hold you as Bella would, or stroke your hair or do anything remotely soothing. His greatest gift to you in that moment was to simply let you be human.

You didn’t know how long that would last.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #yandere alec #alec volturi #alec volturi x female reader #demetri volturi #felix volturi #jane volturi #request #volturi #dark themes

250 notes · View notes

soheila-1996 · 5 years ago

Text

Wake up, Rookie- Part two

Paring: Ethan x MC

Warnings: Traumatic brain injury/ coma, mention of car accident and drink driving.

Word count: 2,113

Catch up here

Tags: @dulceghernandez @rookie-ramsey @choicesandanimeruleme @aylamwrites @ethansmommyissues @schnitzelbutterfingers @therookie @lilyvalentine @sitihania @cordoniaqueensworld @eramsey28

Any feedback is always super appreciated! :) All characters belong to Pixelberry

(Ethan’s POV)

Who knew that one phone call could change everything?

One call could change your entire world?

It’s now the next evening. Time passes so slowly in here. A minute feels like an eternity in this place. It’s hardly any wonder why people become so antsy after being here for sometime.

This entire situation is making me see this place differently. I now understand why people hate this place. I’d never thought that I would come to hate it but I guess I was wrong.

If I could turn back time and make her stay, I would. I’d do anything to change it so we’re not in the situation we’re now in.

Casey’s friends have all stopped by; they’re just as equally concerned as I am. I wish I could change it but I can’t. Everyone is being so kind and empathetic because they don’t know that it’s my fault.

Her parents are on the way and they’ve contacted her brother. Calling her parents was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do because I can’t tell them with full certainty that she’s going to be okay. I wish I could but I can’t.

The driver that crashed into her car was drunk, he got away completely unscathed. The audacity that man had to get drunk, crash into her then just drive off is unbelievable. The police pulled him over shortly after the accident for running multiple red lights- at least they got him. That’s something but means very little to me right now.

I wish it was him.

The hard thing is that I’m not even sure she’d want me here.

My mind keeps wandering to the worst case scenarios. A traumatic brain injury isn’t something people quickly recover from; if they recover at all. When- if she wakes up she’ll have possibly months of rehabilitation in front of her. Apparently, the car had rolled a couple times before stopping, that’s pretty obvious by the state the rest of her body is in.

I turn to the door when I hear a knock. Soon Abigail, Casey’s mother, strolls in. I'm surprised that her dad isn’t behind her. I gently place Casey’s hand down onto the bed and then stand to greet her mother. Abigail pulls me into a hug that I soon return.

“How’s she doing?” she asks as she pulls away.

“She’s er…” I turn around to briefly look at her lying unmoving. “She’s doing well considering. Harper operated on her last night to relieve some of the pressure on her brain-”

“Brain surgery?” She interrupts. I simply nod. From my point of view it's terrifying even though I know why it needed to be done but I can't imagine what it’s like for her. I can’t imagine how I would feel If it was my child. “But she’s okay?”

“Yeah. Like I said, she’s doing really well. She’s stable.” Abigail nods and walks over to Casey’s bed- Again, I can’t begin to imagine how this feels for her. Her hand hovers over Casey’s hand laying lifeless. She goes to touch her but decides against it.

“You can touch her,” I tell her, “Just be careful that you don’t move anything.” I moved to stand beside her as she picked up her daughter’s hand. We both stay in silence for a little while as she continues to examine her daughter’s battered appearance.

“I didn’t think she was going to look like this,” she whispers. She turns around to face me, still gripping Casey’s hand. “When you told me- I didn’t think-”

“I know,” I nod and place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Anthony is at the hotel,” she tells me. I was wondering where he was. I know that Casey and her dad are as thick as thieves.

“I know. You don’t have to stay at a hotel. You and Anthony can come and stay at our house, Casey would want you to.”

“He couldn’t...He just couldn’t come and see her like this,” She explains. I understand how she’s feeling. I understand Anthony's hesitation to come and see her; I had the same feeling when I arrived at the hospital the other day after speaking to Harper.

***

After the phone call from Harper, I rushed to the hospital. Going 20 over the required speed limit but I just need to get to her and the roads are like a ghost town anyway. As soon as I reached Edenbrook, I quickly parked my car, then burst through the ER doors. Tears are streaming down my cheeks but I don’t care- there are far more important things to be worrying about than whoever sees me crying.

My eyes are wandering frantically around the ER; Harper had told me that she would meet me here but I don’t see her anywhere.

I feel sick.

“Dr Ramsey.” I turn around at the sound of my name being called. I’m faced with a young, nervous looking woman- a nurse I’m able to tell by her scrubs. “Come with me.” She walks towards the elevator and so I follow, assuming that she’s taking me to wherever Harper is. As soon as we leave the elevator- I soon realise we’re on the floor where the ICU is located, we round a corner and bump into Harper.

“Thank you, Jen,” Harper said, smiling warmly at the woman. “I can take it from here.” With that Jen takes her leave.

“What’s going on?” I ask, cutting to the chase.

“Come with me.” Harper leads me down a hallway and into a small, unoccupied meeting room that contains a small table and a few chairs. Harper gestures to a chair but I continue to stand. Harper turns around to face me, leaning back against the table.

“Harper...please just tell me what’s going on. Is she okay?” I plead. I’ve already figured out that she’s not based on the fact we’re in an ICU meeting room and Harper has never been someone to exaggerate. I know If it wasn’t bad, Harper would’ve just told me on the phone but she didn't and now I’m panicking.

“She’s critical, Ethan,” Harper tells me. My heart sinks right down into my stomach. It’s what I expected if I’m being honest but… “ She was taken immediately to CT when she arrived, there is considerable swelling on her brain. Ortho is coming down shortly to make sure all the broken bones have been set correctly. As you can probably imagine, she’s got quite a few of them. She has a compound fracture in her right leg, a few hairline fractures in her right foot and the left leg is basically in the same state, she’s also broken her left femur, she’s broken her right wrist too and has a fair few cuts and bursaries all of and has a seat belt burn across her chest. None of the breaks have caused any problem with circulation so that’s something. Obviously the head injury is the one we're most concerned about. She is unresponsive and so far has had no response to any stimuli. We’ve intubated her and she is on a ventilator now.”

My heart just continues to sink as Harper lists off her injuries. My knees threaten to buckle from beneath me but I hold myself up. “Just...Just tell me she’s going to be okay,” I beg her. I know that she can’t tell me that but I just...I need her to. I need a little smidge of hope that everything is going to be okay.

Harper looks down at the floor then back up to me. She gives me a sad smile, “Ethan, I wish I could but you know I can’t.”

A tear slips down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away. I let out shaky a breath, sniffling. “What do I- Harper, what do I do now? I don’t know what to do.”

Harper steps forward and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You just wait. She’s a fighter; give her a chance. Do you want to go and see her?”

My eyes begin to tear up again. “I can’t,” I say shaking my head. “I can’t I- I can’t see her like that, Harper.”

Harper gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze, “You can. You have to.”

I hesitantly nod. Harper leads me out of the room and down another hallway until we reach her room. I go to open the door but then I think back over what Harper just told me about her condition and then I let go of the door handle; shaking my head.

I can’t.

I just can’t.

“She needs you.” If only she knew that the reason she’s laying in that bed to begin with is my fault. I shake my head; she doesn’t need me. “She really needs you right now.

Against my better judgement, I push the door open. I stand frozen in the doorway and let out a loud, uncontrolled sob. Even my imagination hadn’t managed to conjure up something this bad.

Even my nightmares aren’t in any way shape or form this bad.

***

The room is otherwise silent except for the machines surrounding Casey’s bed and the clock ticking on the far wall; Abigail is sitting beside me silently. Neither of us know what to say to each other. Is there anything we can say?

It’s been nearly two days and I don’t think I’m ever going to be okay or get used to seeing her like this. I’ve had moments when I’ve wanted to walk away and not come back because it’s hard. It’s too hard to see her this way. It's frightening how she was okay one minute and then she’s like this the next. It’s terrifying how quickly things can go wrong.

The silence with the exception of the machines is deafening. How anyone else in my position is able to keep their sanity intact is beyond me right now. Considering the circumstances it’s probably not completely unacceptable to lose my shit but I don’t really want my breakdown to be hospital gossip; which without a shadow of a doubt, it would certainly become.

I choose to close my eyes for a second but I immediately open them again once her heart rate monitor begins to incessant beep as if it’s a truck reversing. I get to my feet, accidentally causing the chair to topple over in the process.

“What’s happening?!” Casey’s mother asks me as the room is filled with an ear piercing long string of sound as Casey goes into cardiac arrest.

Shit!

I know what I need to do but I’m frozen in place. I can’t move, i can’t think, I can’t act in an attempt to save her life. My girlfriend's life.

Soon the crash team rush into the room in a flurry of colours, sounds and strategic, practised movements.

In the distance I vaguely hear Abigail arguing with someone that’s telling her to leave. I don’t move; I just watch in horror as one of them is pushing down on her chest as the team continues their resuscitation efforts, another is standing at the head of Casey’s bed with a bag valve mask connected to the end of the already placed intubation tube. From where I’m standing I’m able to hear a crack as one of her ribs snaps. I wince and look away to see Harper and Naveen standing in front of me, both trying to get my attention.

“Ethan, leave. Now,” Harper tells me. I shake my head in defiance, I don’t want to leave, I need to be in here. I want to know what they’re doing to her. I need to know if their attempts work. I don’t want to hear it from somebody else if, god forbid, they don’t manage to bring her back.

I turn away from Harper and Naveen and back to Casey. I flinch when her body arches off the bed as they shock her. I feel someone, Naveen probably, place a hand on my shoulder. “Ethan, come on. You don’t need to see this.”

I still make no attempt to move; I’m still frozen in place. Naveen and Harper essentially drag me out of the room. They both move to stand in front of Casey’s room to prevent me going back in. I move away from them when I realise that they’re not going to move. I move to the wall beside the door and slide down it and buried my face into my hands. I don’t care who sees this. I just need her to be okay. If she’s not; I’m not sure I will survive it.

#open heart #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey fanfic #dr ethan ramsey x mc #dr ethan ramsey fanfic #dr ethan ramsey #dr ethan jonah ramsey #open heart 2 #choices open heart #choices open heart 2 fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices oh fanfic #soheila-1996 writes

87 notes · View notes

neighborhoodmoonchild · 5 years ago

Text

ᾰ̓γᾰ́πη - Pt. II

Pairing(s): Cursed!Seokjin x Reader

Genre(s): Fantasy Au, Fluff, Soulmate Au

Summary: “There’s a story whispered around here. One surrounding the beautifully carved statue of a man at the center of the town. Legend says that when the hand of his true love graces his palm, he shall wake from his cursed marbled slumber. It’s always been a silly old wives tale, until you give in to a friend’s dare.” (prompt idea from writing-prompt-s)

Warning(s): mild language

Word Count: 2.8k

Part I, Part 2, Part 3, ...

taglist: @best-space-boy @maryelixabeth @mochimaw @yeontanismypresident @hannahantonette17 @ign-is @fanfuckingfic @koala-wonderland @suchgayaesthetic @dulcaet

~ if you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, feel free to send me an ask! thank you💜

For the record, you’d never once been so thoroughly stupefied by anything the entirety of your existence. Not that much has ever happened before this...debacle, but still.

Lying on the ground, however, draped with a recently statue-turned-man as the faces of every person who’d openly mocked your beliefs sit painted with the same concoction of horrified wonder, it was safe to say, this was definitely a first.

It was like your mind was awake while your body lay paralyzed. Thought after thought, albeit incoherent, made rounds throughout your consciousness. Limbs splayed across the dirt, useless, like those of a rag doll.

Perhaps part of the initial stun could be blamed by the impact with which the body crashed into yours, as well as the force of hitting the ground.

Maybe, in your likely now-concussed state, you were not actually under a man who a mere moment ago was marble. It’s believable that this was all just some brain-trauma induced hallucination. You probably just tripped on your way to the statue and hit your head. Really, really hard.

That scenario could have very much been the one you decided to go with, that is, until the man started to lift himself up, just enough to look down at you.

Even if you didn’t want to lock eyes with the, admittedly, incredibly handsome man you found yourself in such a precarious situation with, it wasn’t like you had any other choice.

Space only big enough for a single breathe lay between you.

His eyes, a lovely dark, warm brown shade that gave you such an odd sense of security, studied your own.

This close, every detail of his face was on HD display for you, from the length of his lashes, the slope of his nose, to the curve and plushness of his lips. Horrifyingly enough for you, that meant every one of your flaws must be painfully on display for him as well. Look at you now, suddenly worried about how you looked to a once-inanimate object.

It was an oddly intimate moment, one that you weren’t quite sure you wanted to end before it had begun, or to continue forever, until the sun set and the stars shone and everything in-between. The way your head swam, thoughts torn between two opposing sides, a regular Capulet-Montague affair within, it was like losing sense of yourself.

There was no way this was really happening; that this man has come to life at your hand. However, you couldn’t deny the tangible evidence that is the vessel hovering over you now. Oh yeah, there’s a strange man on top of you...and everyone is watching.

Like a cadaver reanimated by a bolt of lightning, you shot away from the man, pushing yourself back on your butt and scooching like a child until you were satisfied with the distance between. Skin painfully alight with the burn of embarrassment, you didn’t dare look back into the eyes of your ‘soulmate’ just yet.

‘Soulmate,’ it’s like that very word incited an allergic reaction in which your body suddenly had the urge to convulse until whatever contents remained in your stomach were one with the earth.

Trying merely to catch your breathe, you almost didn’t register the warmth of a hand pressing firmly to your back.

“I, um, think we should take this somewhere more...private, perhaps?”

That voice, the slightly monotone, yet strangely comforting voice of the girl you both tolerated and treasured. The only one that treated you as an equal; an actual human being.

“Mira...” It sounded choked, weak, like saying her name was a laboring task you weren’t sure you could handle. Turning back to look at her, you could tell how horrified you must have looked based on her own expression.

If anyone knew what to do in this insane situation, it’d be her.

Rising to her feet, Mira took in the way your body curled in on itself, to shield you from the alarming situation of which you had no control over and no clue how to precede. It stung at a piece of her that had been buried deep down inside for a long time.

Strange, was all she could pen it as, but you are her companion here, and it was her duty to aid you in this, especially considering the circumstances.

———

The walk home was quiet. One on the outside might almost call it peaceful, tranquil, but it was none of the above.

After suggesting to take this to her home, Mira helped you and the stranger to your feet and broke up the little side-show that had gathered. The townspeople were a mixture of curious, horrified, and smug; seeing the girl they taunted get stuck in this situation was irony at its finest.

While there were plenty of broken hearts staggering their way back to their homes with heavy souls, no one could deny that this was fate, and whether they agreed with the outcome or not, it was not their place to question.

Many, however, did get a good laugh in when you had paced frantically around the circle created around you, practically begging people to take the man instead. It was pathetic, sad, pitiful, and it left all with a disturbing sense of pride.

‘Serves her right,’ they all thought, only speaking it aloud once they were sheltered within their own walls.

They weren’t wrong though, you did look and feel wholly pathetic. On the verge of tears, begging people you loathed to help you, and right in front of the poor, confused man who was at no more fault than you. It wasn’t your best moment.

Thus, the journey to Mira’s was awkward if anything. You strode a few paces ahead, mind foggy and emotions scattered like confetti. Mira made a comfortable wall between you and the man, who brought up the rear, taking in his surroundings with curiosity and a weird sense of familiarity.

Nobody dared say anything, not that there was much to talk about at the moment. Tensions were running high, and a calm, quiet, middle ground was needed before any successful conversations were to be had.

You couldn’t help the slight tears pricking at your lash line, threatening to spill over any second. It made you feel dumb, crying over something as if you were a child who didn’t get their way.

But the thought of spending the rest of your life otherworldly attached to a person you’ve never met before was terrifying. It has always been you on your own. You have enough struggles as it is. Oh, how mother will get a kick out of this.

Your mind wondered if she would even understand what was going on. She’d been in the home on the east side for a few years now, after the dementia got to be too much for you to deal with alone. She’s doing better there anyways, and it wasn’t like you weren’t unaccustomed to going it solo anyways.

Your head slowly swiveled back to catch a quick glimpse of the man behind you. He was swinging his head side to side, back and forth, taking in everything like a puppy. His clothes, now that you were looking, were very outdated, things you’d never seen before except in history books or century dramas on Netflix. He didn’t look real. Another irony, you guess.

Before you could turn back and focus on the road ahead of you, his eyes shot down to catch yours. He didn’t seem scared, upset, or even worried. In fact, he looked almost sympathetic. It probably had to do with the terrified expression you had a hard time fighting every time he caught your gaze. The heat crept up your neck quickly and you shot your head forward to get away from his stare.

Before you knew it, you were standing shoulder to shoulder with the man as Mira unlocked and swung her front door open. The porch creaked under your weight as you shifted to gain some space, the nervousness making you antsy and unable to stand still. He didn’t seem to notice you move away from him, but you weren’t about to look at him and check.

Once inside, you placed yourself in one of the large wicker dining chairs you occupied often during long debates with Mira over the years. Her house was quaint and quite charming. A decent size, especially for her living alone, and giving off a rustic, bohemian air that made it feel homey to even the most distant of strangers.

Speaking of strangers, it was an odd sight to say the least, watching the tall man cross the room stiffly, dropping down onto the velvet couch with a sigh. The humanness he possessed after being rock only a few hours ago was unsettling. You don’t know what you expected him to act like, but then again, any expectations were out the window and 100 miles downwind by now.

Considering how off-put you are by the whole thing, it both amazed and scared you how easy it was for your gaze to linger over him. What it was that pulled you to him, you couldn’t put your finger on- no, you didn’t want to put your finger on in fear of the implications. The longer you were in his presence, though, the more curious you became. And we all know how curiosity plays out, just ask the cat.

Again, as if you both really were connected in some fantastical way, his eyes instantly found yours. This time, however, the nervous heat that usually accompanied it vanished. Instead, locking eyes almost brought an innate sense of peace within you; comfort.

“So, would either of you like some tea?” Mira’s way of easing the awkward air quickly broke the two of you from...whatever that was, and it immediately threw you back on edge. Grabbing the edge of the chair till your knuckles paled, your voice took on a defensive tone.

“ I’d like to know what the hell is going on.” Laced with a sharp venom you weren’t even aware you were capable of, the statement immediately caught all attentions, air increasing in its thickness instead of dissipating like Mira had hoped.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look back at the man, so instead you focused all of your negative energy, unfairly, on Mira. Her face twisted into an uncomfortable grimace as she thought of the best way to talk you down from your growing agitation, but before she could speak, a light chuckle wafted through the tiny room.

That snapped both of your heads towards Mr. post-statue.

Even with both of your uncomfortable gazes, he didn’t seem affected. It wasn’t like he couldn’t read the room, or understand the gravity of the situation. It was more like he had this innate sense of optimism; that everything was going to work out and he just didn’t see the point in getting so serious.

“I think it’s pretty obvious what’s going on.” You wouldn’t say you were surprised by the soft, honey-tone of his voice, or that you were entranced by it, but if you were to deny, you’d be utterly lying to yourself.

Maybe there was more to this soulmate thing than just waking him up and living ‘happily ever after’. Was it possible there were physical and psychological changes that came along with it? It doesn’t seem too far fetched considering the events that have taken place today. At this point, anything could happen and you wouldn’t be any more surprised. Maybe it’s the shock talking.

“What?” Once you said it, you want to take it back. God, could you sound any dumber? The first thing you say directly to him, and it’s an idiotic reiteration that makes you sound like you can’t infer from context clues and common-freaking-sense what he means.

A quick urge to bury yourself somewhere far away from here shoots through your being, but it’s not a look of disdain that you are met with, but a sweet, soft, smile. It’s not that he seems to pity you in any way, but that somehow knows exactly what you’re feeling without you having to say it. Although, now that you’ve realized it, that small sense of fright wiggles in the back of your mind. A stranger should not be able to read you as easily as he is.

“If I’m awake, it means the spell is broken.”

You stare at him as his face lights up, as if remembering something wonderful; a long lost memory just now recalled.

Suddenly, he bolts up, coming straight for you. Despite your heart protesting, your body starts, pushing yourself as far against the chair and curling tight to protect yourself. As you flinch, your eyes shut and you suck a quick breath in. Like being charged by a fearsome beast, you react in such a way that you don’t even have to open your eyes to know the affect.

The footsteps stop instantly, and when you do open your eyes, you see the man frozen in place, face paled and arms limp at his sides. He was only a few feet away, but even when he shortened the distance between you, he suddenly felt further away now than before.

The guilt of reacting in such a way was a feeling you weren’t accustomed to, and you couldn’t lie that you felt worse after seeing the pained expression on his face.

He slowly backed his way back to the couch, lowering down onto it while avoiding your gaze. Strange how quickly it went from you avoiding his, to him avoiding yours.

“I’m sorry...I know...I know how scary this must be, and I shouldn’t have gotten so excited,” he started, voice low and cautious, like he was afraid to scare you again. Seeing the hurt in his eyes and hearing the strain in his voice affected you more than it should.

Carefully, your body returned to its original position, unfurling to show him that you weren’t afraid of him. You don’t know why it was suddenly so important for you to assure him but it was a natural reaction you didn’t think twice about.

Brown eyes once again catching your own, you tried your best to give him an apathetic smile, something to rid his beautiful features of that sorrow you inadvertently caused. When his eyes shone with a newly-gained light as the corner of his mouth upturned the slightest bit to return your gesture, you knew that no matter the insanity of this situation, you’d probably do just about anything to keep that smile on his face.

“I just never thought this would happen.” A slight pink hue rises to the apples of his cheeks and it takes a strong part of you to hold yourself together and not swoon at how adorable he looked.

“That what would happen?” Mira speaks up and reminds you that you are, in fact, not alone and you recompose yourself.

The man clears his throat and despite the increasing blush on his cheeks, he manages to look from Mira back to you, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck.

“That my soulmate would find me.” This time it’s you whose blushing, the heat creeping up and spreading to every part of your body. The implications of being a soulmate, let alone to someone you don’t know, made the uneasiness resurface. Even though you felt a growing warmth for this random man, you weren’t about to throw your inhibitions out the window all for the sake of being ‘soulmates.’

As cliché-fairy-tale-garbage as this whole thing seems, you weren’t some dim-witted damsel who’d fall for a man she just met.

“Maybe you should start with introductions, stave off the soulmate thing for a moment.” Mira sends you an understanding smile, knowing that you’d lack the frame of mind to conduct this conversation without her assistance.

A breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding escapes your lips in a relieved sigh. Turning back to the man, you muster up enough courage to rise from your seat, cross the wooden floor, and stop before him. Shaking slightly, your right hand reaches out to rest midair in front of him, fingers open and waiting.

“I’m Y/N.”

He looks at your fingers, then up at you, then fingers again. Slowly, his hand approaches yours, gliding softly against the pads of your fingertips before lightly grasping your hand in his. Before you can signal your arm to start a shaking motion, he brings your hand towards him and delicately places a soft kiss to the skin of your knuckles. You can feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin, and suddenly it feels like the Sahara desert in the sweltering summer months.

“My name is Seokjin. It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N.”

To Be Continued...

_________________________________________________________________

A.N.,

This part is more-so an establishing piece. I know not much goes on plot-wise, but I needed to develop the dynamic before any of the juicy bits can happen. I hope you all understand and like this newest edition to the story. I originally planned this to be a 3 part series, but there will definitely be more than 3 parts, oops. I hope you all stick around for the ride, and thank you for all the love and support!💜

-Moonie🌙

113 notes · View notes

bitchin-beskar · 5 years ago

Text

Found

Chapter 1: The Hunter and His Prey

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Here is the second story in the I See Starlight series!! We finally get to see Mando!!!! I'd planned on doing the whole series from Cerliah's perspective, but most of this chapter just seemed to flow better from Mando's. As always, this work is un-beta'd and all mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy!!!

Six weeks.

It had been six standard weeks.

The Mandalorian sighed, slumped over in the pilot’s chair on the Razor Crest, the streaks of light flying past the windows in the cockpit a tell-tale sign of the lightspeed he’d been engaged in for the past couple of hours. His whole body ached with the stress and fatigue from the past month and a half, but none of his creaking joints or sore muscles could compare the ache in his heart.

The job was supposed to be a simple one. Ever since he’d cleared things with Karga, he’d been getting Guild jobs under the table every so often, which helped keep fuel in the Crest and food in his and the kid’s bellies. The bounty had been on Tatooine, some low-life, gambling, debt-runner who had pissed off a powerful man. Low risk. High reward. Simple.

He’d flown to Tatooine, and had left his ship and the kid with Peli Motto, who had been thrilled to see them–well, at least the kid–again. He’d paid her credits to watch the ship and his kid, and then he’d gone off after the bounty.

It hadn’t gone well.

The bounty apparently had pissed off a lot more than just a debt-collector. When he’d finally found the bounty, he’d been beaten and near death, surrounded by a group of spice smugglers. Supposedly, his bounty had racked up quite the debt to support his spice habit, in addition to the gambling debt, and when he couldn’t pay, he’d run. The Mandalorian had tried to stay hidden, but wearing a full suit of beskar on a planet that had two suns? Well, he was never going to stay hidden for very long. The group of smugglers had descended on him, and while he managed to take care of all of them, one had gotten in a lucky shot past his beskar, leaving him wounded. And, of course, a loose shot had hit his speeder, causing it to break down, leaving him stranded. Worst of all, the bounty had succumbed to his wounds, and this particular bounty had been one that needed to be alive for payment to be received.

By the time he’d been able to make his way back to Mos Eisley, more bad news had awaited him. Peli was in hysterics when he arrived at the hangar. Two days prior, a group of slavers had attacked Mos Eisley on the orders of the Hutts, and had kidnapped multiple citizens, along with a couple of unfortunate travelers. Peli had been in town buying food when it had happened, and she’d run back to the hangar as soon as the slavers had attacked, but she’d been too late. The kid had been playing with some of the other children nearby, and he’d been snatched, along with all the other kids.

Mando sighed again. He wanted to be mad at Peli, kriff, he’d tried to be mad, but he just couldn’t muster up the strength. She’d been overwrought, sobbing in his arms as she’d tried to explain what had happened, apologizing every other sentence. It had been so unlike the tough, no-nonsense woman he’d met months prior, but he could understand to an extent. He’d wanted to panic when he’d learned the kid had been taken, by slavers no less, but he knew that he didn’t have time to panic if he wanted to find the kid as fast as possible.

Which led to his current predicament.

He’d followed the slavers for three maker-forsaken weeks, always just a day or even just a few hours behind them. He’d contacted Karga and Cara, asking them to keep an ear out for any news, hoping to somehow get ahead of the slavers, but so far no luck. He’d had to stop and take a couple small jobs in order to get enough credits to buy enough fuel to keep up the planet hopping necessary to follow the slavers.

After a quick supply run, he’d jumped back on the trail. It seemed as though the slavers had stopped running, as it looked as though the kid was on Markon-Vel, and had been for a while. But, he wasn’t taking any chances, so he was flying there as fast as the Crest could go.

Finally, finally, after hours in lightspeed, he arrived at Markon-Vel. He didn’t know much about the planet, only that it was similar in atmosphere and geography to Sorgan. He would admit to being confused at why slavers would choose Markon-Vel to settle, or why anyone on Markon-Vel would own slaves, as it seemed to be a simple agricultural world, but it didn’t matter. His kid was there, and he was going to get him back. No matter what.

He landed in the woods a couple klicks from the town closest to the kid’s signal–yes, he’d put a tracker signal in the mythosaur necklace the kid insisted on wearing in case of this exact scenario–and descended the ladder down from the cockpit. He opened his weapons cache, equipping himself with more weapons than were likely strictly necessary, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Armed with his Amban rifle, his WESTAR-35 blaster, his vibroblades, and plenty of small, but powerful grenades for crowd control and distractions, he disembarked the Crest, closing the ramp with the controls on his vambrace.

Stalking through the woods, he quickly came upon the small village. Most of the townspeople who saw him approaching quickly made their way inside, although a few brave souls stayed outside, eyeing him warily. His path was blocked by an elderly woman, fear clear in her eyes, but her stance showed nothing but confidence.

“What is your business here, Mandalorian?” Her voice was steady, but there was a clear underlying tone of worry, clearly wondering what had brought a bounty hunter to her village.

He stared at the woman for a few tense moments, watching as she refused to squirm in discomfort, meeting what she thought was his gaze resolutely. Finally, he spoke. “I’m looking for slavers. They would have had a small, green, alien child with large ears with them.”

The woman’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know anything about any slavers, but–”

She was cut off by the arrival of a young woman, who stepped forward, a clear look of distrust on her face. “Why exactly do you want to know, bounty hunter?” She spat, venom lacing her tone. The elder turned to scold her, but she spoke once more. “No, Grandmother, why should we offer any assistance to one who only sees other beings as a paycheck?”

The Mandalorian tilted his head, observing the bold, younger woman. Very few had the guts to stand up to a Mandalorian, even fewer who dared do so without any weapons on their person. Although he admired her strength and courage, he didn’t want to get into any debates or fights with any of the locals. They didn’t seem to be aware of any slavers, and if it were possible to resolve this without violence against innocents, well, he would greatly prefer that.

“The child isn’t a bounty, but he was in my care until circumstances changed that. I am merely trying to reunite with him.”

The young woman eyed him suspiciously, but the elder woman nodded at his words. “A young woman came to Markon-Vel roughly three weeks ago, and she brought with her a child matching the description you gave.” The young woman protested, but the elder continued. “She purchased the hut on the outskirts of our village, down the main road.”

The Mandalorian nodded, stepping past the two women, and proceeding down the long road through the town. After a few minutes, the small hut the elder had described came into view. He could see a woman kneeling in front of the house, tending to what seemed to be a small garden. He couldn’t see the kid anywhere, but that wasn’t saying much considering he was roughly the size of a womp rat, and the same color as the grass surrounding him. The woman didn’t look like a slaver, but that didn’t mean much either.

He watched as she looked up as he approached, visibly stiffening at the sight of him. He knew he looked imposing in full beskar-gam, but there was some dark part of him that was pleased to see her scared of him, to see the person responsible for the kidnapping of his foundling fearful and terrified.

He continued forward, watching as she stood quickly, glancing behind her before moving forward slightly into his path. He strode up to her, quickly moving into her personal space, somewhat surprised that she refused to back down, despite the clear terror in her eyes.

“Where is the kid?”

He watched as she stared defiantly up at his helm, somehow meeting his gaze, despite being unable to see his eyes. She stared for a few quiet minutes, before the fight seemed to leave her body, her shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly.

“Why do you want him?”

It took everything the Mandalorian had to not start at the question. No denials, no protests, no bargaining, nothing he was used to when it came to bounties or those he had to confront for information. Just resigned acceptance.

He didn’t respond, and she repeated herself.

He took a brief moment before answering her, deciding to be honest. “He is my foundling, in my care until I can reunite him with his own kind. He was taken from me, and I am here to take him back.” There was a challenge in his tone, as if daring her to argue her part in his foundling’s capture.

But he was shocked as instead of her body tensing, becoming defensive, she did the opposite. Her posture relaxed, shock and–was that awe?–coming to light in her eyes. She opened her mouth before closing it, clearly trying to decide what to say. She did this a few more times, and just as he was about to order her to hand over his kid once more, she spoke softly.

“You– he– he’s not your bounty? You’re not here to take him back to the slavers?”

This time, the Mandalorian was unable to hide his shock. He took a small step back at her words, watching as she seemed to have tears appearing in her eyes. A soft “No,” released from his mouth, unbidden, as he watched her seem to debate with herself before turning on her heel, telling him to wait there as she walked towards a small pond in the backyard of her hut.

He watched as she waded through the grass, crouching down by the pond for a moment, gathering something in her arms before turning back and walking towards him.

He felt his heart clench as he saw the kid in her arms, little fingers clutching at her neckline, his little head tucked underneath her chin. His big eyes were closed in contentment, and the woman’s grip on him was comforting, her hand laying across his back in support as she moved towards him. He felt guilt pool deep in his gut as he remembered the vicious pleasure he’d felt when he’d seen that he’d scared her. He’d misjudged her it seemed, perhaps she hadn’t taken part in the abduction of his kid, and the fact that she seemed to care so deeply for his son...

Meanwhile he’d thought she was the one who’d taken his son in the first place–it left a sour taste in his mouth.

As she made her way back to him, he watched as the kid opened his big black eyes, and when he laid eyes on him, the kid squealed in excitement, immediately reaching his tiny arms out towards his guardian. The woman easily handed him over, and the Mandalorian felt a sense of relief flow through his whole body, tension leaking out of his pose as he held his young charge against his beskar-clad chest.

Cerliah had watched with tears in her eyes as the baby cuddled with the Mandalorian standing before her. When she’d first seen the form of a notorious bounty hunter striding towards her small hut, fear had gripped her, and she’d nearly had a panic attack. She would have defended Little One with her life, but she knew it would not do any good, if the Mandalorian was truly there to take his bounty.

Oh, but the relief that washed over her when he said he didn’t intend to return Little One to the slavers…

She would be the first to admit a small amount of shock ran through her when the Mandalorian had declared Little One to be his charge, his foundling. She knew little of Mandalorian culture, only what she’d been able to read in her mistress’s library, but she knew that they considered adopted children to be just as important as blood-kin, so to hear this fearsome warrior declare such an attachment to Little One was what had convinced her to go and collect him from by the pond.

She watched their reunion, soaring happiness and a deep gut-wrenching sorrow warring in her heart. She was so very pleased that Little One was back with his father, but she’d come to love the small baby she’d cared for these past few weeks. She felt the stabbing pain she imagined came from a mother knowing their child was about to leave them, despite Little One never having been hers in the first place.

She didn’t realize it, but tears had leaked from her eyes and began to run in small rivulets down her cheeks, as she tried to come to terms with the fact that she would likely not see Little One again.

The Mandalorian looked at the woman in front of him, another pang of guilt striking his heart as he saw the heartbroken look on her face as she watched the kid. He debated, trying to figure out something to say.

“I thought– He– I was told he’d been taken by slavers.”

He wanted to smack himself for the way his words sounded so accusatory coming through the vocoder, but she didn’t seem to take offense. She reached out slowly, softly rubbing the skin of the kid’s ear as she stared sadly up at him.

“He was sold to my mistress at a slave auction on Lyerra three weeks ago,” she spoke, eyes downcast at her words, pointedly avoiding looking at either him or the kid. “My master and mistress were killed by bounty hunters searching for him later that night, but he’d been hidden with me, and we were able to flee.”

He felt a pit in his stomach. His kid had been in the hands of slavers for three weeks before being bought. It wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought, but three weeks was still too long for his ad’ika to be in the grasp of those kinds of beings.

The Mandalorian was distracted out of his musings as the woman in front of him withdrew a chain from beneath her dress. She lifted it off over her head, fiddling with something on it before re-donning the necklace and tucking it back under her neckline, but not before he caught a glimpse of some kind of amulet or charm.

He watched as she held her hand out to him, a small metal device blinking in her palm. He stared at her for a moment, watching as she prodded him to take it.

“It’s his trigger,” she offered, and the Mandalorian felt his spine stiffen in shock. “I knew where the master kept all of the triggers, and after his death, I took his and mine with me before we’d fled.”

It wasn’t even something he had thought about, but now that he knew of its existence, he felt cold chills run up and down his spine. His son, his ad’ika, had a miniature bomb somewhere on his person, and this woman was holding the device that could set it off. His hand snapped out and yanked it from her grasp before he could think, but she didn’t even flinch.

“I’m sorry.”

The Mandalorian stared at her. Did she just–? “Excuse me?”

She sighed softly, repeating herself. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

Cerliah couldn’t look at the Mandalorian, choosing instead to observe the grass at her feet. “I’m sorry I couldn’t deactivate the trigger.”

He stood there in incredulous silence for a moment, blinking dumbly at the woman in front of him. He wasn’t sure the stabbing guilt that he felt could get any worse, but with her words, it seemed to. He’d come here, assuming the worst, that she’d stolen his kid, and he’d felt pleasure in her terror, and all she had done was protect his son, and keep him safe, and now she was apologizing for something completely out of her control?

“I know someone who can deactivate the trigger. Come with us.”

#the mandalorian #baby yoda #oc #star wars #slow burn #romance #eventually #kuiil's still alive #kuiil deserved better #masterlist #fics

23 notes · View notes

ficsnthings · 5 years ago

Text

Paul “Jesus” Rovia x Male!Reader

Summary: Jesus said he had to run. He didn’t say who he was running back to.

Rated: T - canon typical violence

Read on AO3

Please consider buying me a coffee

y/n = your name

y/e/c = your eye colour

When Jesus awoke in an unfamiliar makeshift cell with no real sense of how long he’d been there, his immediate thought was to escape. He needed to get home to where his people, where his family were waiting for him.

So after assessing that neither the water nor the cookie that had been left for him were poisoned (after all, why they would poison him after going through the trouble of saving him and dressing his wounds if they were just going to poison him?) he quickly ate and drank before he slipped his bonds, watched the guard they had posted on the most obvious exit to keep him in and waited for an opening to sneak away and find another way out, which he found in the form of a third floor window.

If there was one thing Jesus was good at, it was thinking on his feet, but it wasn’t until he’d finally lowered himself to the ground that he realized he really didn’t have a plan now. He knew he needed to get home, but at the moment, he wasn’t sure of quite how far away home was. Even if he made it over the wall, he had no weapons, no real sense of where he was, and no guarantee that the tracker, for Jesus knew that was what the rough looking man with the angel wing vest was, wouldn’t come after him.

These people could have killed him, could have left him out there to die, but they hadn’t. Instead they had brought him back with them and left him with food and water. He decided his best chance at making it home might be to make a deal. But first he needed information, leverage.

So he snuck around, found their supply stores (meager given how large their community appeared to be ), their armory (impressive, considerably more so than their food stores), before creeping around a few of the large homes that populated the street in order to find the man who had brought him there, the man he had assessed to be a leader, Rick.

Later, when he was sitting in the RV listening to Glenn and Abraham’s conversation involving ridiculous metaphors for sperm and procreation, he found himself unable to keep his thoughts away from his own child. The little girl he and Y/n had found abandoned and very much alone right at the very beginning.

The two of them had been quietly making their way through a little town, maneuvering swiftly down a backroad when they thought they heard a baby crying from the inside of a car that was surrounded by a group of the dead. They had paused, waiting and listening, and had almost thought they’d imagined it when they heard it again. Her cries were tired, barely audible above the noise of the snarling monsters surrounding her, but they were there.

Up until then he and Y/n had tried to play it pretty safe. They had avoided other people as well as they could, knowing that trusting the wrong sort, or getting caught somewhere in the panic and desperation of some of those groups could easily cost them their lives, and hadn’t gone out of their way to kill the undead creatures which now roamed the streets, only fighting them out of necessity. But the moment they heard those cries, the moment Y/n had given him that look of I’m about to do something stupid please back me up, he didn’t even have to think about it. He just did.

The two of them worked together to take out the group of the dead surrounding the vehicle, then jimmied open the door using the same crowbar Y/n had been using as his weapon of choice.

Y/n unstrapped the baby from the carseat/carrier that was still locked into place in the back seat and took the baby, who was maybe six, seven months old with a head of wispy brown hair, big blue eyes and pudgy, bright pink cheeks, into his arms. He gently rocked her, cooing and hushing until her little cries quieted and she instead looked up at him curiously. Jesus knew as he watched the two of them that this changed things. That he would do anything to ensure the safety of both his love as well as this rosie cheeked girl whom was already quickly stealing his heart.

Back in the present, his eyes focused in on Rick’s hand reaching over and grasping Michonne’s. The way they smiled at each other, the looks they shared, it spoke of familiarity, a shared closeness, but despite his initial assessment, after observing the two a while longer he got the distinct impression that the two had not been romantically involved long.

Watching the two comfort one another made something inside of him ache for his own love. The man he’d been with since Before.

When they’d met Jesus had just begun putting his life back together after having gone through the grueling process of getting sober. He hadn’t been looking for anything serious, hadn’t meant to get so involved, but Y/n was funny and sweet and beautiful and strong. He was kind and caring, but wasn’t a pushover, wasn’t afraid to call Jesus out on his shit. He’d gradually nudged his way past all of Jesus’ defenses, taking care of him in the little ways he did. A new beanie when his was starting to look a little too worse for wear, another tube of toothpaste to replace the one that Jesus hadn’t realized was nearing empty, a parting kiss over coffee when he left for work in the morning. Before he knew it Y/n had wormed his way into his heart, leaving articles of clothing in drawers that once contained only Jesus’ own, a toothbrush beside his in the cup next to the bathroom sink, and a dull ache of longing in his heart when they were apart.

Jesus couldn’t wait to get back to his family, to hold the two people he loved most in the world in his arms again. He hoped Y/n wasn’t too worried about him. That was one thing he knew was inevitable with him going outside the walls, but wished he could change nonetheless. He hated making Y/n worry.

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

Waiting for Jesus to return was always difficult. Knowing that he was outside the walls, usually on his own, was terrifying. I knew he would do everything he could, whatever it took to make it back to us, but I also knew that nothing out on the road was predictable. Anything could happen to him out there, and if one day he didn’t come back we’d probably never know why.

Sometimes when he’d go out he would get held up in someway, causing him to return later than he’d hoped. On a few occasions storms and bad weather had left him holed up for days waiting for the worst to pass before he could make it home. Far more frequently, however, he would run into walkers, or people. Those were the circumstances that scared me the most. And I could just feel in my heart that was what had happened this time.

Jesus had meant to be home yesterday, had said as much as he’d kissed our daughter and I goodbye right before leaving a few days ago. He could waltz through the front gates at any time now, but knowing that didn’t stop my mind from running through possible scenarios that could have kept him from coming home to us. A day late wasn’t so much in theory, but in this world it could be the difference between life and death.

I tried not to dwell though, didn’t have much chance to do so anyway. We all had jobs to do, and mine was to take care of our daughter, Rosie, and help out around the community wherever they needed a few extra hands.

So that is exactly what I did. I awoke that morning in a bed that felt too empty, got myself cleaned up and dressed, then did the same for our daughter. I fed her and myself, then began our usual morning routine of going out to help maintain the crops before the sun had risen too high in the sky.

After a few hours we would retreat back to our trailer and work on learning our ABC’s. Rosie, in all her three and a half years, had never wanted anything quite the same way she wanted to be able to read. So each day we would spend as long as her young mind could stay focused and willing reciting the alphabet, practicing writing out each letter, and practicing the sounds that each letter made.

Today we were working on learning to write Q, R, and S, which were some of the more difficult letters for a child under four to pick up, but she quickly got the hang of Q and R. She just couldn’t quite get her mind around forming the S on her own. If I mapped it in dots she could trace over it, no problem, but she hadn’t yet figured out how to recreate it herself, yet. It would come to her, I knew. She was very determined and tended to pick things up quickly. She just needed a bit more time and patience.

Patience, however, seemed to be one thing Rosie didn’t have in abundance today. When I could see Rosie’s steely determination quickly beginning to give way to frustration, I decided it was time to switch activities before she devolved into a meltdown.

“Hey, baby girl, why don’t we give ’S’ another try a little later, and right now we go outside and play for a bit, huh?”, I gently suggested.

The little girl in question paused to think for a moment before nodding, “Okay, Papa.”

I pulled her in for a hug after we’d both risen from our place on the floor, “You’ve done such a good job today, Rosie. You’ve been learning very fast, so I think you just need a break before you can get the ’S’ shape.”

We quickly gathered up some of her favorite toys and went outside to play in the dirt in near our little trailer. We raced matchbox cars along side little model horses whose brown paint was chipping in places, making them look more frame overo than chestnut.

As Rosie played, I felt my worry for Jesus creeping back into the forefront of my mind. By now it was mid-afternoon. What if-

“Papa?”, Rosie’s sweet voice interrupted my inner turmoil.

“What is it, baby girl?”, I replied, bringing myself back into the present.

She peered up at me with big, blue eyes and asked, “When’s Daddy coming home?”

“Well…”, I started, but was distracted from answering when Harlan, who must have just returned from his run, came hobbling around the corner supporting Freddie who was a looking fairly beat up and limping at his side.

I quickly stood and stepped towards them, ready to help if needed, “You guys okay?”

Harlan turned his head my way and nodded, readjusting Freddie’s arm around his shoulders, “We’re fine, just gotta patch up Freddie’s leg here.”

My eyes traveled down to look at the wound and I winced, “That doesn’t look so good.”

“Could have been a lot worse if Jesus hadn’t found us.”, Freddie spoke up.

That got my attention, “Jesus?”, I asked, “Is he back?”

Harlan nodded and said, “Yeah, he found a group out there so he’s taking them up to Barrington house.”, before continuing on his way towards the medical trailer.

Relief flooded my system. Jesus was safe, he was home. I knew he’d be round eventually, but I didn’t want to wait any longer. I spent enough time without him when he was outside the walls, when I knew that we could be together I refused to waste whatever time we may have by staying away.

I crouched down in front of Rosie, who had resumed rolling her toy cars through the dirt, and asked, “Hey, baby girl, Daddy’s home. Do you want to go see him?”

Her face immediately lit up with a bright, dazzling smile, head nodding emphatically as she scrambled up from the ground and exclaimed, “Yes, please, Papa!”

I stood as well and she quickly latched onto my hand and began dragging me away from our trailer.

“Hey, hold up.”, I laughed, “You don’t even know where he is.”

She just shrugged and continued tugging at my hand, “I’ll find him.”

I chuckled once more, shaking my head, “Daddy’s this way, sweetheart.”, as I turned and began leading her in the opposite direction from which she’d been pulling me towards, “Daddy’s up at the big house.”

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

“Follow me, I’ll show you where you can get cleaned up.”, Jesus conceded, slightly warily.

Gregory was already making any potential dealings with Rick’s group difficult, and the tension between the two leaders was palpable. Gregory always took any good fortune their community had for granted. He never seemed to be able to look far enough in the future to realize that whatever fortune they had now was only temporary. That at any time someone or something could sour their luck and then they could be stuck in a bad situation made worse by a lack of allies willing to aid them in their time of crisis. Jesus knew what Gregory always seemed to lose sight of: In this new world, people needed each other to survive.

Though Rick’s community needed their help today, he knew that one day in the future, be it in a few months or a few years, the Hilltop may need their help in return.

So Jesus would continue to do what he always did when Gregory was being a particular brand of asshole. He would keep the peace for now and try to talk some sense into him later when he had the chance.

Just as he was about to lead the group upstairs, the front door of the house burst open and a tiny figure barreled in.

As soon as the little missile caught sight of her target she yelled, “Daddy!”, and ran full force into strong arms that automatically opened for her, latching herself to him and hugging with all her might.

The moment Jesus had his daughter in his arms again he relaxed exponentially, finally releasing the breath that he always seemed to be holding whenever he was away from she and Y/n.

He held her tight to his chest, closing his eyes and just breathing her in for a long second before pulling back a bit to say, “Hi, Rosie-girl. I missed you so much.”, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Rosie smiled the easy smile of a small child and said, “I missed you, too, Daddy!”

He smiled back at her warmly, and was about to ask where her Papa was when the man in question came bounding in, closing the still wide open door behind him.

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

As we began breaching the final fifty or so feet between ourselves and Barrington house, Rosie let go of my hand and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her towards the place she knew her Daddy was.

I sighed, shaking my head. That little girl had moxie immeasurable.

I watched Rosie fling open the door before racing through it, leaving it wide open in her wake and as I walked up the front steps a few moments later , I knew we were going to have to have another talk about responsibility and how it was linked to being mindful of our surroundings: ie: not leaving doors open EVER, even if you thought it was safe.

But all these thoughts flew out the window the moment I’d closed the door and my searching gaze finally met that of the man I loved. When his crystal blue eyes met my own y/e/c orbs, I finally felt whole again.

Then he was there and his arms were holding our little girl between us while mine were encircling the both of them, clutching those most precious to me close.

His hand reached to cup my cheek and pull me in for a long, gentle kiss that felt like coming home.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”, he apologized when our lips parted, “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

I scoffed jokingly, “Me, worry? Nah, I knew you’d ninja your way back home sooner or later.”

Jesus smiled, letting his hand stroke down the side of my neck before turning back to the group of strangers that in the excitement of our reunion I hadn’t even noticed where standing in the foyer.

“My apologies for the lack of introductions. This is Y/n and our daughter Rosie.”, he said.

Members of the group smiled or nodded warily in greeting, and Jesus reluctantly set Rosie back on her feet, “Stay with Papa, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes and then you can tell me all about everything I’ve missed out on in the last few days, sound good?”

Rosie nodded, taking hold of my hand once more, “Yes, Daddy.”

Jesus gave her one last warm smile before turning back to the group, “Alright, let’s get you all cleaned up then, shall we?”, and led the way up the stairs towards the bathrooms.

When Jesus returned a few minutes later he was alone, and so the three of us made ourselves comfortable on a couch in the sitting room. Jesus wrapped an arm around my waist, pressing me close against his side while our daughter sat perched on his lap, her little hands absently attempting to braid his long hair (though mostly only succeeding in creating tangles as opposed to the plaits she was going for) as she told her Daddy all about the crops she and Papa had helped to weed and harvest, and the letters she had learned to write and how Papa said that she was learning really, really fast!

In that moment, as he sat with the love of his life and the daughter they were raising together, his own little family, Jesus reveled in the feeling of being home.

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a coffee

Reblogs and Likes make my day :)

#paul jesus rovia x reader #jesus x reader twd #jesus x male!reader #twd x reader #twd x male!reader #paul rovia x reader #paul rovia x male!reader #jesus x reader #the walking dead x reader #male reader #reader insert

121 notes · View notes

trashyslashers · 5 years ago

Note

(Sorry about last time :') You told me to send this next time request were open so-) If you're willing, could you do a soulmate au with Brahms? Where you have a mark on your arm or chest and the closer you get to your soulmate, the more it glows and/or the hotter it gets? And s/o ends up getting lost in the woods during a storm and has to seek shelter in the manor?? (Hope this isn't too much to ask for 💞 I love your hcs and stories! )

No need to apologize! I’m definitely guilty of missing the “requests: closed” on other blogs before a few times, so it’s not a problem. Instead of doing a list of headcanons I just did a tiny bit of a scenario type of deal.

I MIGHT do a part II at some point, but that entirely depends on where I think I could go with this, considering the ending is vague but I’m not sure how much more in depth I could go with this specific AU.

Ever since you were a child, you found yourself heavily preferring solitude whenever you were upset or distressed. The time alone allowed opportunity for you to clear your mind and ponder whatever was bothering you; the peace of mind brought on by the alone time was like no other and you found it hard to feel bad about distancing yourself whenever you felt you needed it.

Now was one of those times.

You’d spent the past year studying abroad in the UK, and while the locals of the small town you were staying in were nothing but kind and welcoming, you couldn’t help but feel horrendously homesick. Not only that, but on top of missing home, the added stress and pressure of school and exams were beginning to take a toll on you both mentally and physically and eventually you found yourself in desperate need of some time to yourself. It didn’t matter where you went - you just needed to be alone, away from other humans.

Fed up and frustrated with everything, one evening you decided that what you needed to remedy your sour mood was a long drive so you could think without any sort of distraction. During the past year of living in town you easily familiarized yourself with your surroundings, and much to your pleasure you learned early on that there were plenty of winding roads throughout the surrounding countryside. You’d been up and down them a handful of times, mostly in travels to other towns if you needed something in particular the one you were in didn’t have, and they were perfect for those times when the last thing you wanted was to be surrounded by other people. So, with that, you settled into your car one evening and set out.

About 15 minutes into your drive, you had a change of plans once you came upon a small parking spot on the side of the road, deep in the countryside. From what it looked like, there were a handful of hiking trails branching off from the road, and without a second thought you decided that you’d quite like to go for a walk, considering it had been a hot minute since you’d really done much exploring, and the air had that mid-autumn chill to it that you absolutely adored. Seeing as no other people appeared to be around, you took it as the perfect opportunity to park your car, tuck your keys and phone away in your pockets, and go for a stroll.

Within moments of being out of your car you were feeling much better than you had been previously, and you dug your hand into your pocket and pulled out your earbuds, fully prepared to spend the next half an hour or so meandering along the trails, lost in your own thoughts.

Despite taking the time for yourself, you still couldn’t completely rid your mind of the anxiety and stress that had been gnawing at it for the last month. While you were pretty good at masking your anxiety you had a few self soothing habits that arose whenever you were feeling particularly antsy - one of which was rubbing at the lovemark on the back of your left wrist, tracing it’s shape.

It was something everyone knew about and everyone had; a small mark, not unlike a tattoo shaded lighter than your skin, located usually on one’s arm or chest that acted as a sort of indicator for whenever you met your supposed soulmate. It definitely saved people time - from what you’ve heard, it’s saved plenty of people from the woes of serial dating and made it much easier to settle down with someone. From what you understood, the closer you physically got to your soulmate, the mark would either change in color or emit a heat of its own (or on occasion, both), and the intensity indicated a closer proximity. Once it numbed and had a more charcoal-like tone, that meant that you finally met the one you were supposed to be with, and that was that. While some people liked this, others found it a nuisance as they felt that dating and discovering things on their own was much more exhilarating and would get a tattoo placed over it.

You had no strong feelings either way.

As you thumbed at the phone of your screen with your left to swipe through your music, your right hand found its way to the back of your left wrist as you went to rub at the mark out of subconscious habit - almost dropping your phone once you realized it was warm.

Not skin warm, no, but rather it was giving off its own heat, and you yanked your sleeve down, turning your hand over so you could actually get a good look at it. Your own mark was a set of lines, looping together to form something that looked somewhat like a clover, and once you got a decent look at it you realized that it had changed from a shade that was a bit lighter than your own skin to an almost peach-pink.

You felt sick to your stomach. Out here? Of all places? Seriously? You were nothing short of perplexed by this. You were wandering through the woods of a country you’d lived in for barely a year, and yet you, supposedly, would meet your soulmate out here? It confused you greatly, and you were left absolutely dumbfounded by this.

Your thoughts were interrupted as a few droplets of rain landed on your skin, and glancing up at the sky through the trees you realized that storm clouds were closing in, and you needed to get back to your car as quickly as possible.

But you, in your daydreams of a stress-free life and deep thoughts regarding your future, had apparently not paid attention in the slightest to the direction you headed in. You were still on a trail, yes - but there were multiple around you, all branching off from the one you were currently walking on. Which one did you come off of? Which direction? The hike wasn’t uphill in the slightest so you had no way of figuring out which way headed towards the road.

Shit.

None of the three paths looked familiar enough for you to determine them as the right one, and the last thing you wanted was to take the wrong path and end up actually lost. Weighing your options for a second, you decided to take the left-most one and figured it was your best bet. The sky was darkening quickly out of both the approaching storm and it being evening, and not wanting to get caught in the worst of the storm you tucked your phone back into your pocket and broke into a light jog.

The further you went, though, you felt your heart sink.

You’d gone the wrong way.

Now you sure didn’t recognize your surroundings in even the slightest - you’d never passed an uprooted tree like that, and even though you were lost in your own thoughts on your way through you would’ve been able to remember passing one.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as you pivoted back around, taking off in the direction you’d come from. The woods were darkening quickly, and you were absolutely terrified at the thought of getting lost out there in the dark. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you opened your camera app with the hope that the flash from the camera would be enough to light your way - you didn’t want to risk draining the battery by using its actual flashlight function. Every few seconds you’d take a picture, the flash illuminating the path just enough for you to see a few feet in front of you, and while it was hardly enough to see it would have to do for the time being.

You felt dizzy with anxiety; you’d always read about how dangerous it was to panic in situations like this and always told yourself that you’d be level headed enough to avoid it, but you managed to prove yourself so, so wrong. You clutched your wrist in your hand, relying on the warmth of your lovemark to warm your hand up as it was becoming horribly stiff from the cold. The rain was pouring down by now and the phone of your screen was absolutely drenched, and you realized that you needed to keep it dry in your pocket because otherwise it would end up water damaged, and you really didn’t have the funds to get it fixed if that happened.

You were left with only the slowly receding light of the sky and the knot in your stomach as you ran along what you hoped was still the path, mentally berating yourself for being such an idiot.

Only you, of all people, would manage to get lost in woods you’d never been in.

As you trudged on, you wrapped your arms around yourself as best as you could in an attempt to keep yourself as warm as possible. It was completely futile, though, as you were already shivering viciously and your joints ached from the cold. No matter where you held yourself - your hands on your shoulders, in your pockets, clutching your wrists, nothing - you felt no relief from the freezing rain and air. The only thing that you had to guide you in even the slightest was your mark, which was becoming uncomfortably warm the further you walked.

Were you about to meet them? How on earth would you, anyway - would you run into them? Were they out here in the woods, too? Were you about to run into a serial killer or something? Oh god, what if you found someone trying to hide a body or doing something as equally as disturbing? Were you going to die?

Well, you most likely would die, if you didn’t get shelter. It seemed dramatic, yes, but considering how soaked through you were combined with the plummeting temperature of the air, you feared that you may end up with hypothermia if you didn’t get warm soon.

Soon though, you realized you weren’t going to come across a dead body or some unpleasant stranger in the woods, but instead a sign of hope.

After stumbling around in the woods for god knows how long, you ended up in what appeared to be a driveway. It was large, paved, and the path that you hoped would lead to some sort of shelter - if you managed to pick the right direction, that is. That thought was short lived though as soon, you realized that you didn’t need to choose a direction because you saw a faint light at the far end to your right. Whether it was a cabin, a warehouse, an oddly placed gas station you didn’t care; you just needed to get out of the cold as soon as you could, and you broke out in a sprint towards it.

The closer you got to it, the better you were able to see where you were - in the front yard of a large, stone manor. It stood grandly in the middle of a small clearing, tucked away so perfectly in the woods that it wasn’t visible from the roads you’d come from. You fought the urge to just run up the stairs - you couldn’t just trespass like that, no way. You’d seen countless horror flicks; film after film about what happens to unwelcome trespassers and you didn’t particularly care about ending up chained to a radiator in someone’s basement or becoming the nth victim to a family of cannibals.

The soft light glowing in one of the front windows hinted that someone was home, and you realized that you’d really had no other choice but to swallow the lump in your throat, take a deep breath, and climb the stone stairs to the huge porch. The porch was massive, long, and lined with enough doors on the wall that you had no clue which to go to - how many damn doors did one house need?

The large oak door situated in the middle of the porch seemed to be your best bet, and after trying to peer through one of the large windows to see if anyone was in there, you hesitantly reached up and knocked briskly on the door, waiting a few seconds.

No answer.

You debated on if it would be a smart idea to knock again - what if no one was home, or if they were asleep? You didn’t want to wake anyone up or anger anyone by suddenly pounding on their door at some ungodly hour of the night, but what other choice did you have? You were hopelessly lost, the rain was freezing cold, and you knew that if you went back out there you’d end up in an even worse position. You shifted your weight back and forth on your feet, wracking your brain for any other possible option other than the obvious one.

Fuck it, you thought. I’m already lost, not like much else could go wrong.

You brought your fist up to the door and knocked yet again, your knuckles sore and raw from a combination of the cold and being knocked against the hard door repeatedly. You prayed something would happen, that someone, anyone, would answer - even if it was just to tell you to get off their property. Anything was fine in your book.

No response, again.

With a defeated sigh you pressed your forehead against the door, your hands resting against it as well. Your heart was heavy with defeat and hopelessness, and you sank down to sit, resting against the door as you tried to figure out what else you could do. It was pitch black out now, and the rain showed no sign of letting up any time soon. You pulled your phone out, your hands trembling as you unlocked it and saw that it was almost 9:30 at night - you’d been gone for almost over an hour at this point. You had only one bar, and it wasn’t nearly enough for any of your GPS or map apps to open and load properly.

It looked like you’d be here until morning, if you even lasted that long.

You hadn’t been this cold in ages; you were trembling violently at this point and your clothes were practically glued to your skin. Your hands and feet were growing numb from cold, and you were worried that your fingers would become too stiff to move soon. You pulled your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them as you cradled your warm wrist against your chest as best as you could.

You had no clue how long you sat there for before you heard a soft thump come from behind the door, startling you from your rest. You jumped up (or rather tried to, you were still entirely too stiff to make any quick movements) and watched as the door slowly creaked open on its own - no sign of another person on the other side.

The house is old, you told yourself. The latch on the door was probably old and weak, too - that’s all it was. There’s no way it was opened purposefully for you.

But what if it was? If the latch was shoddy, why didn’t it open when you knocked on it? Surely, if it wasn’t weak enough for it to open from you knocking on it, or from the pressure of you leaning on it, then it wouldn’t be so weak that it would open from literally nothing.

Maybe, just maybe, it was a sign that you were welcome to come in.

You fought the urge to just run right in, trepidation preventing you from making any hasty decisions as you slowly stepped inside, immediately sighing heavily with relief once you realized how much warmer it was inside. Seeing as no one was there to confront you, you took that as the opportunity to look around at your surroundings; the dimly, but cozily lit foyer you stood in. To the left of you was what appeared to be a sort of den with multiple bookshelves lining the walls, a spinet with yellowed keys resting in the middle of the room. Directly ahead of you was a long hallway that led off into darkness; a bit up on the left was another room that, from what you could see, contained a rather large staircase, and to your right was a fireplace that seemed as if it hadn’t been used in years.

The whole area appeared to be almost totally untouched by any sign of life - it looked more like a sort of display set up for people to tour while learning about the house’s history, or something like that. You’d gone on field trips like that as a child.

The house’s interior was beautiful.

“Hello?” You called out, your voice shaky and hushed. You refrained from being loud, not wanting to disturb the residents any more than you probably already were with your intrusion. Noting the lack of any commotion or responding voices, you took a few weary steps forward, leaning forward and peering into the large room with the staircase to see if anyone was there. Of course there wasn’t, but sudden movement out of the corner of your eye caught you off guard and you jumped back to where you were before. Your heart beat sped up as you stared down the hallway, squinting as you forced your eyes to adjust to the darkness and settle on the humanoid figure at the end. Despite no features visible, the silhouette appeared to belong to an awfully tall man - who was probably staring right at you, unhappy with a complete stranger just barging into his house.

You needed to remedy any issues, before they arose.

“Excuse me - I’m sorry for the intrusion, but - I got lost while going for a hike and… it started to rain and I haven’t been able to find my way back to my car, I was hoping maybe you could point me toward the road.” It took you a second to find your voice, and when you did you worked hard to keep it as soft as possible, not wanting to come off as demanding or rude in any sort of way out of fear that the man may turn on you and throw you out - or worse.

When there was no response, you took a hesitant step forward, only for him to mirror your movements and move closer as well.

Though it creeped you out a bit, at least he acknowledged you this time.

“I really don’t mean to be a nuisance,” You spoke up, as your hand moved under the sleeve of your opposite arm and rubbed at the mark habitually. “But I really am lost and I’m not sure where I should go - ”

The mark was no longer warm.

Wait a minute, was it not just practically burning hot, not even 5 minutes ago? What happened? Did they, your apparent soulmate, move on? You didn’t know if you were more disappointed or confused, and you didn’t bother with finishing your sentence as you pulled your sleeve down.

Despite the light from above being dimmed now that you were further down the hallway, you were still able to see the mark enough to see what was wrong with it; it was no longer that soft, glowing, warm pink that it once was - instead, it had faded into a tattoo-like charcoal black that was numb to the touch.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak or even exclaim anything out of confusion. Your voice was caught in your throat and it felt like your heart had stopped beating altogether and the realization that this was him, this was your soulmate, hit you like a truck.

This was your soulmate - and that was a fact that he seemed completely aware of, judging by the quickness of his steps as he walked to you. He came into the faint light enough for you to see his messy hair and his face - or at least, the doll-like make that was covering it.

Holy shit.

“S-Sorry..” You barely managed to choke out a weak apology.

He towered over you and you were nothing short of intimidated by the situation, completely prepared to turn around and run right back out into the rain.

Before you could, though, his next movement caught you completely off guard: his much larger hand found its way to your left wrist, making an effort to be gentle with it as he lifted it up just enough for him to tug the saturated sleeve of your sweater down, revealing your mark - and also enough for him to position his own wrist just enough for you to see his matching one.

#request #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #the boy

184 notes · View notes

harveywritings92 · 5 years ago

Text

Connor x Albino! Native! Reader

Readers Native name is: Otsi'tsa A Mohawk name meaning: Flower. The reader and Ratonhnhaké:ton were childhood friends until she was captured by colonists at a young age because they thought she was a white child who was kidnapped by the Mohawk, And was renamed Y/n L/n by the orphanage the colonists had left her at, she eventually escaped the orphanage eventually finding her way to Davenport ending with her being adopted by Achilles.

Italics = Kanienʼkéha

Normal = English

"father I've done my work can I go out please?" You ask hopping on your toes in anticipation as Ratonhnhaké:ton and Kanen'tó:kon both stood outside waiting for her as the other children ran passed them, after some consideration your father silently nodded. You smiled along with the two boys and ran off as your father yelled "Be sure to keep your hood on! and stay within sight of the village!"

You nodded pulling the small hood over your head protecting you're pale skin from the sun as you white braid rest over you left shoulder as you and the other kids gathered around in a group trying to figure out what to play when they heard a twig snap you and all the children whipped your heads in the direction it came from and were terrified when group of white men appeared from the woods started walking towards the group.

You felt your heart sink into you're feet as one of the men pointed at you. "See, I told ya them savages kidnapped a little one!" he said gruffly as the presumed leader took a step forward causing the other kids to scatter and hide.

You were too scared to move or scream as one them went to grab you only for Ratonhnhaké:ton to suddenly jump in and hit the man's hand away with a large stick. "Get away from her!" he hissed standing in front of you protectively.

Despite how brave he was trying to act; You could tell he was scared he was shaking like a leaf! The men laughed gave the little boy a swift kick in the stomach knocking the air out of him and sent him off his feet, and the men got a hold of you! you screamed kicked and struggled as they dragged you away all while hearing Ratonhnhaké:ton and Kanen'tó:kon screaming. "Otsi'tsa! NO! give her back! help!!" over and over until the voices faded...

3rd pov: That was six years ago...

Six years since those men took her from her home. Six years since they left her at this awful orphanage! Six years since they forced her to change her name...

Well, not anymore! Otsi'tsa or Y/n as She had been dubbed had been causing a lot of trouble for the nuns and any potential families interested in her...much to the other kids enjoyment.

the nuns chased her around the orphanage demanding she behave herself. "Make me donkey face!!" she'd yell in her people's language causing the old woman to turn beet red due to not understanding what she was saying, and she'd get the ruler foe speaking the devils tongue, it was during one such time something seem to snap in the other kids; they started running around and acting out with the white haired girl!

Soon the entire orphanage was in a tizzy as the head nun tried in vain to get the children under control, Otsi'tsa used the commotion to quietly slip out of the orphanage before they noticed she was gone and hid in the first cart she saw turns out it was headed to the frontier...

The albino was awoken abruptly by the cart stopping she quick got out and jumped into some bushes as the driver came around grumbling and checking the back of his grumbling about the wheel coming loose and looking for tools only to find apple cor and a bite taken out of one of the cheese wheels!

...They barely fed them at the orphanage, So the little native couldn't help herself! luckily she was long gone as the owner frantically look around for who or what was responsible for eating his supplies.

Otsi'tsa wasn't sure how long she trekked through those lands for, But she thanked whatever forces out there, that she hadn't had any run ins wolves, bears or mountain lions! soon she found herself on a doorstep of a of a large mansion, dirty, cold,wet and hungry...

She knocked hoping someone was home and maybe she could get them to give her job in exchange for food? and then continue her way home...there was a cranky voice on the other side that snapped at her to go away...She blinked and knock again causing whoever was yelling to cuss.

the swung open and an angry old man was standing in front of her Otsi'tsa shrank back, as he got one look at her miserable state and his glare soften before sighing and let her inside, She introduced herself as Otsi'tsa,The old man bluntly told the white haired girl he can't pronounce that! So she said he can call her Y/n.

Soon the native girl had gotten to know her host (after he had given her a bath and clean clothes) and noticed how lonely the old man or Achilles as he introduced himself was; she noticed he looked sad whenever she asked where his family was, Since the clothes he'd given her were boys clothes so surely he couldn't be living in this manor by himself?

Eventually she got her answer; While pulling weeds around the property, her red eyes widened when she found his wife and son's tombstones after some coaxing he told her his life story.

And soon Y/n's overnight stay, turned into permanent residency and with that Achilles had started training her to be an Assassin, Three years into her training Y/n was stunned when a ghost from her past showed up on their doorstep.

She was in the kitchen making spiced apple bread when she heard a knock at the front door, surprising the albino native as they hardly had visitors except for Faulkner...But only when he was low on Alcohol, and she'd had already went on a keg run for him not even a day ago! She heard Achilles grumble get up from his chair and answer the door and talk to someone...

Curious Y/n wiped her hands on her apron and went to see who was there, just in time to see Achilles yell and slam the door in that person's face! Odd...And rude. "Who was that?" The red eyed girl asked blowing her bangs out of her face as the old assassin grimaced "No one to worry about!" he huffed scudding to the sitting room as the knocking came from the backdoor.

The native girl hummed bemused and went to see for herself, only for her mentor to bark "Leave it!" from the other room "Stubborn old man..." She mumbled in Kanienʼkéha then she saw someone move out of sight out the window and Achilles move upstairs soon the knocking started up there too! Whoever this person was, they do not give up! She heard the old man snap at the visitor to go away...

But they didn't, they came back the next day! and kept badgering the old man, Y/n could only sigh and shake her head at this whole scenario! when one stubborn hot-head meet another sparks are bound to fly! on the third night, the albino was awoken in the wee hours of the morning by voices coming from outside, they aren't the boy who had been badgering Achilles. No, these were different malicious...

The female assassin got up from her bed just in time to see said boy fighting off a group of crooks and immediately she went on high alert as she got her hidden blade started making her way downstairs, Achilles had the same idea, the albino silently snuck up behind one and stabbed him the back while Achilles took of the boss, And went to help the boy of the ground she grabbed his hand and...

"Otsi'tsa?"

"How do y...Ratonhnhaké:ton?"

The albino gawked at her old childhood friend trying to process how he could be here? next thing she knew Y/n was swept up in a tight bone crushing hug by Ratonhnhaké:ton! she was still in shock before it hit her that he was really here..and return the hug the two pulled away as they got a good look at each other. "I can't believe it's really you.." Ratonhnhaké:ton he said with slight tremble in his voice as he held her cheeks in his hand, his childhood friend cracked a smile.

"Me neither..." she said back tucking some hair behind her ear and wanted to ask about her father and the tribe but was interrupted by Achilles clearing his throat "As heartwarming as this all is, would you two clean this mess up so we can get down to business?" the two teens separated and got to cleaning up the bodies, than joined Achilles in the manor. The old man went on to explain the creed history and precursors to Ratonhnhaké:ton while the albino went to make something to eat and drink as the two talked as she had heard this all before.

"Until you’re ready, Y/n will act as you teacher while out on the field." Achilles announced confusing the native boy as far as he could tell Achilles and Otsi'tsa were the only ones living here? When his friend sheepishly announced that she was Y/n. "No you're Otsi'tsa." He said confused and the red eyed girl had to explain that the orphanage she was sent to gave her a new name, that... and Achilles doesn't speak their language so Y/n L/n sorta stuck.

"You can still call me by my real name." She assured as Ratonhnhaké:ton awkwardly tested her second name few times, before Achilles explain why she was in charge of him during training as Y/n had more experience then took them down to the basement to show them the wall.

there Ratonhnhaké:ton was temporarily distracted by some assassin robes before Y/n "You have long road ahead before you're ready for those." she stated without even looking at him, the Mohawk boy blushed and started to stammer insisting that he meant no harm.

the albino giggled as Achilles slammed his cane into the ground making the look at him, Needless to say Y/n was horrified ti find out what happened after she was kidnapped the village burned, Ziio and her father's death and most shocking of all Haytham Kenway the grand master of the colonial Templar order was the one responsible and Ratonhnhaké:ton's father.

Y/n didn't know how to process this went out for a run to get some air and think... she eventually found herself at Faulkner's shack the sailors could see something was bothering their Little Missy, but it was clear she didn't really want to talk about it, She always comes to the docks when she wants to think, she heard Faulkner come up behind her a sat down next to her "Now Girly what seems to be the ailment of the day?" he coax after a few seconds she unloaded everything meeting her childhood finding out his father killed her father and half their village, now she doesn't what to do or think! the old sea dog hummed took a sip from his flask.

"That's quite the debacle...I don't have anything to say to that other than don't hold it against the boy, and good luck." He said gruffly and then offered her a swig from his flask the pale girl cocked a brow and took a sip before noticing Ratonhnhaké:ton coming up to them causing her to choke and start coughing as she handed the flask back to Faulkner who got up and left. "*cough* H-How..wh-what are you doing here?" she stammered the boy shyly rubbed the back of his head.

"I saw you leaving the basement you looked haunted.." he said sadly "I didn't mean for you to find out like that." he said taking Faulkner's spot next to her, grimacing when he smelled the alcohol on her person the albino shook her head. "Don't sorry, it was probably for the best I find out now then later." She knowing full well if Ratonhnhaké:ton had kept his parentage from her she would've been on guard and suspicious of him for the rest of their lives, the two sat on that dock for the rest of the morning exchanging stories and how much had changed since they'd last seen each other.

Ratonhnhaké:ton was amazed how Otsi'tsa escaped from the orphanage by rebelling and starting a riot, it was shocking to say the least considering she was the most timid and cautious child in their tribe, mainly due to her condition and her father's over protectiveness, she wouldn’t even harm a rabbit unless she was positive she wouldn't get in trouble! The Albino wasn't even phased when Ratonhnhaké:ton was given orders by the spirits to seek out the Creed and help stop the Templars, she felt he was meant for something greater in life that something wasn't staying with their tribe.

She informed him they had a lot of work ahead of them, and he had better be prepared because the Old man wasn't the one he had to worry about, "I'm one harsh teacher." She teased causing Ratonhnhaké:ton to playfully bump her shoulder. "Sure you are!" he hummed as they got up to raced back the manor. Needless to say Achilles was unimpressed that two of his students were late, dirty and smelled like a bar! Nor was he impressed by the "will they? won't they?" game they played with each other through the years, But that is a story for another day!

~End~

#assassin's creed 3 #connor kenway #connor kenway x reader #ratohnhaké:ton #reader insert #named reader #fanfiction

72 notes · View notes

cornelthecursed · 4 years ago

Text

Turning point

//So, during my little time I was off this site, I wanted to write, but at the same time I couldn’t bring myself to do the replies as I felt a little pressured to make it perfect. And since I needed to put the creative juice somewhere, here came a little idea. Cor’s life had been long and there were many things that happened, he doesn’t usually talk about. Why not give little snippets of his life so you could understand him better? One of the stories he is reclusive about is the story of when he lost his wife and child - the reason behind him becoming a pretty skilled killer. Of course over the years he had dropped the job and was ashamed of himself, but this only proves that he is still human despite being a supernatural being. He also made bad decisions in his youth that he regrets. The stories, if they do come out will be tagged as #histories and I will make a dedicated page for that tag. So here is the first entry: Word count: 1682 Trigger warning: death, gore, grief, blood

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The young vampire was well aware that he wasn’t the best of husbands. He had spent most of the time travelling, making sure that they had enough money to go by since he had nothing come from his parents. Yes, the dowry they had got when they married wasn’t small, but it just simply wasn’t enough. Of course he had worked his hands rough, going from place to place and helping with the woodworking. It was a dangerous work for the likes of him. Being a supernatural being that was just as easily killed by the very material he worked with. But it paid the best in the current era. And he only wanted the best for Emalia. Emalia wasn’t one to want too much to live off of. She was a simple woman, who adored taking care of their small garden and selling the flowers little down the road from their house. Their little ray of sunshine that looked mostly like her mother than Cornelius was always there, bringing smile to anyone who looked at her. Caitlin was her name. The vampire had two girls to take care of and he was willing to do anything in the world for them - if working long hours and coming home late was one of the things, then he would. Yet, nothing had prepared him for what was to come when he returned that night. The roads, as was usual for the hour, were empty. Only his own boots making soft crunching sounds as he walked down the path and stepped on the odd gravel that was in his way. The moon was high up in the sky, providing him enough light to go by to see the tips of the roof of the house over the tree tops. The sight always brought smile to his face. An owl hooted and he hummed in contemplation. He couldn’t see any light through the trees so he figured his wife was long asleep. Turning the corner on the path stopped dead in his tracks. What was that smell? He had a hint of it further down the road but as soon as got closer and closer it only grew stronger. It smelled metallic and of roses…his eyes widened. The pack on that was slung over his shoulder dropped to the ground in a thump. The leather turning in on itself as it sagged on the cobblestones. He had started running towards the house. With each step the smell got stronger. His heart beat faster as the worst scenarios were running through his head. He should have hired some help. He should have taken them with him.

And then he saw it. His suspicions were correct. The smell he registered was of blood. And the one he least wanted to smell. A small choked sound rose from his throat when his eyes landed on the broken down door. It was hanging only on one of the hinges, holding on as if by the sheer will. He had no doubt that if he touched it, it would fall down. His legs were heavy. The next step that he had down felt as if he had rooted in place. He needed to know what happened, but at the same time, he didn’t wish to know. Left leg forward. Right. Left. He stumbled but he was making progress to the darkened house. He could see it glisten in the moon. A pool of blood that managed to slip past the door frame. No. NO! He wanted to scream, but the only thing that got out of his throat was a sob. He stumbled once again, catching himself on the solid wood beam of his front porch. He didn’t want to admit it. This had to be some nightmare. He would wake up to his wife stroking his cheek - their daughter jumping onto the bed. Right?

An unknown force tugged at his chest. His hand was shaking when he pushed the door open. It creaked and then fell against its frame sliding down onto the floor. The smell. The bloodied carpet. The pale body on the floor. His breath hitched. “NO.” He breathed as tears flooded his eyes. “No…Emalia.” He sobbed, finally making his feet work again. Stumbling inside, he didn’t care that his clothes would get soaked with the red substance that was too fresh to have dried away. How was it possible he didn’t hear their screams? Caitlin! Where was his daughter?! Stepping down the hall, it was as if someone else was taking hold of his body. His mind didn’t quite register what his senses told him. Stepping further into the house his hand came to rest over his mouth when he finally noticed what had been done.

Emalia, the petite little being he called his wife. The woman his heart belonged to, laid in a pool of blood that was most obviously hers. Cornel’s eyes flashed red, as his glamour had fallen. He no longer had control over his own magic. The sight of the gruesome act robbing him of any sensible thought as his eyes took everything in. It was clear she was kneeling before she was killed, her legs were soles up. A bile rose in his throat at the cold analysis his mind was making. Of course, he was around death, but it never touched someone so close to him before. Bringing his eyes to follow further. The second his eyes landed on her torso, he wished he hadn’t looked. Where her head was supposed to be, there was nothing, but a rim of skin, flesh and what was left of her bones. It was then his legs gave out. His knees connected with the floor, splashing some of the blood onto the walls and furniture that was nearby. Hands falling limply next to his body as he simply stared at the body. IT took him good few moments before he looked around himself. There was no head in sight. Who…Who would do such a horrid thing?!

His rapid breathing wasn’t helping with the nausea that was slowly but surely building inside of him. The pungent smell of death, not to mention the sight wasn’t helping him keeping his dinner. Leaning against the chest of drawers to his side he belched. The contents of his stomach mixing with the slowly hardening blood. Heaving for a few seconds he took a hold of himself as far as he could. Emalia was dead. It was clear it was her body - he knew it way too well, not to be able to identify it. The question was. Had they taken his daughter too? He hoped against all odds that his wife managed to hide the poor child. Standing up onto his shaking legs and using the drawers as support he finally noted the trail of blood leading to their bedroom. Closing his eyes he slowly stepped over, pushing the door open. He thought that he had seen the worst of it. Oh, but he was so wrong. So god damn wrong. It was then that he screamed. The sound full of pain and anguish. Full of anger at whoever did this to his family. There in their shared bedroom was his daughter. In similar state to his wife, meaning she was dead. The small body of the seven year old child was spared the horrific death of having her little head chopped off clean. But the fact that her face looked terrified was enough for the vampire to want to rip hearts out. She was pinned against the wooden wall behind their bed by a stake. Her eyes, still open were staring at the object that was clearly in front of her. Sobbing he stepped closer, he wanted to get her down from the wall. She didn’t deserve this. None of them did. “Princess…” he breathed, his voice jumped in pitch as he said the word. He had screamed it rough it would seem. She was like a doll. Unmoving when he came closer. With trembling fingers he closed her eyes. His lips were nowhere to staying still. Grabbing the wooden stake, he pulled it out. The body, no longer suspended by it slid down and forward and before she could fall face down he extended his arm to catch her.

He couldn’t remember when was the last time he felt her weight on his arm like that. Sinking down with her he settled her petite body in his arms, holding her to his chest as he slid down the wall she was just pinned to. His eyes were on her, brushing back her black hair that she had obviously got from him. He couldn’t stop them. The tears flew down his cheeks in rivers. Sobs shaking his shoulders as he let his head rest against the wall. Only then he noticed what the unseeing eyes were looking at. “Oh god…” At the foot of the bed, there was the head of his wife. Her mouth still open, clearly pleading to at least let her daughter live. His hand rose to wipe down his face as pained expression ran across it. Subsequently smearing blood onto his cheeks and chin, but he didn’t care.

Holding Caitlin tighter to him, as if she was still alive, he held her, while his head hit the wall behind him. Eyes closed as he clutched at the body in his arms, tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t feel anything and it scared him. The initial pain was replaced with hollowness. Granted his chest felt heavy and constricted, but that was only physical, on the emotional base he felt…nothing. Hitting his head against the wall again he let out a cry of frustration. Why. Why did he have to leave that week. Why didn’t he stay home. Why didn’t he protect them. What kind of a husband he was. What kind of a father he was? He had no idea when, but the exhaustion had taken over him. His eyes shut closed while still holding onto his daughter.

#turning point for cor #why he became an assassin #tw: gore #tw: death #trigger warning #tw:blood #tw: grief #histories

2 notes · View notes

merryfortune · 5 years ago

Note

Hewwo, Merry! I wonder if you're still doing the Types of Kisses writing prompt? If so, could you do 38 + GakuYuga, please? >////

Anything for you Michelle! Sorry for the late reply tho haha

38. Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss.

Word Count: 903

AN: ok to be submitted by anyone as proof of ship

“Yuga?” Gakuto called out. Huffing, and walking like a penguin, Gakuto circled around Yuga’s laboratory and called out for him again: “Yuga?!” His voice louder and more annoyed this time.

Yuga giggled, disembodied and Gakuto huffed.

“I know you are around here somewhere!” Gakuto yelled.

“Yeah, duh, I called you here.” Yuga playfully taunted Gakuto.

Gakuto continued around the trash heap of invaluable treasures that Yuga had ferreted away from the tip and other garbage dumps to proudly call his laboratory. He stomped stiffly as he waddled around in search of his friend.

“Yuga!” Gakuto yelled in his most disciplinary voice. The front door to the lab banged about, stubborn as Gakuto pulled on it and rapped on it in some vain attempt to open it.

Yuga sighed. It was time to give up the game. Gakuto was losing and that made it no fun for Yuga to play. At least the mini experiment he had conducted on Gakuto had proved successful. It really was true that people rarely looked above eyeline to search for things; as a kid and as a short person, Yuga couldn’t relate at all but now tried and tested, that factoid was road approved so it had to be true.

“I’m up here.” Yuga said.

His tiny body lolled over the edge of the gutter. His arms dangled and his blood rushes and he gave Gakuto half a heart attack. He screeched like he saw a dead person when he saw Yuga. Yuga only laughed and offered a hand to Gakuto to help him up on the roof. In the dim of dusk, Gakuto’s reluctance was more than apparent but their hands interlocked regardless. With a tug, and unnatural strength aided to him from Kaizo and his metal clutches, Yuga was able to pull Gakuto up onto the roof.

Gakuto held his breast when he landed. His heart hammered. He glared at Yuga.

“It is entirely irresponsible to be up here. What if you fall off?” Gakuto asked, and simultaneously scolded, him.

Yuga shrugged. Laughed. “Kaizo would catch me but I’m too good at being up here. It’s you you should worry about.”

Gakuto fumed but it sank away to genuine, even terrified concern.

“Is it true?” he asked. “Are you really planning on running away from home? Skipping school?”

“Yeah.” Yuga said, blase to Gakuto’s abject horror. “But only for a day or two.”

Gakuto breathed a sigh of relief over hearing that. It wasn’t great but he was glad that it wasn’t the worst case scenario.

“Have you ever heard of Peter Pan?” Yuga asked.

“The boy who would live forever as a child? Yes, I have heard of him.” Gakuto replied, concerned. A tentatively rose to reach out and touch Yuga to soothe him but for some reason, Gakuto was too scared to.

“Well I’ve been thinking about him and how I’m never gonna be like him. One day I’m gonna - we’re gonna - be grown ups and to tell the truth, I’m scared of that.” Yuga didn’t sound scared. He sounded as though he knew exactly what he was talking about and that he put in much calm introspection on the matter. “I’m scared I’m going to grow up and start having less and less fun and that one day, I will barely have any time for you guys, my bestest friends in the whole wide world, because I’m too busy bein’ dog tired from working some dead end job and that I won’t have any ideas for things like my roads, that terrifies me Gakuto. There’s no road or invention to stop time. Even I ain’t that clever so yeah. One day I’m going to grow up and I’m worried everything will suck.”

“Yuga…” Gakuto murmured uselessly. He pet Yuga’s shoulder. It was cold. He thought about how he was going to graduate elementary school next week. A new president had already been instated too - and it wasn’t even Rook.

Despite the dreary look on Yuga’s face as he spoke, he brightened up. He took a great big gulp of dirty night air and sighed contentedly.

“Which is why I’ve decided that I’ll never grow up. I’m gonna be me for the rest of my life. Silly, childish Yuga who has eight ideas for impossible things before breakfast.” Yuga said, speaking like he was making a cheery vow.

“Yuga…” Gakuto breathed fondly, through a bemused smile.

Yuga turned his head to Gakuto, haloed by city lights and murky starlight, he beamed.

“I love you, Gakuto.” Yuga said. “I don’t want you to leave me behind but I can’t stop time no matter how u tantrum or protest so promise me you won’t become an adult too early for someone like me, because, well, you already kinda are in every way.” He laughed.

“I understand and promise.” Gakuto said.

“Thank goodness.”

Yuga sighed and then swooped in. He pecked Gakuto’s lips. It was a clumsy, childish kiss with all his power and might behind it. Gakuto stiffened. Eyes widening whilst Yuga kissed him, his own clenched as hard shut as possible. Neither of them breathed for the many seconds this strange, clunky kiss ensued for.

Yuga smiled when it was all over. “Thanks, Gakuto.” he whispered and Gakuto could have sworn that there were tears in Yuga’s eyes but he couldn’t tell if they were happy, sad, or something else entirely so he merely nodded.

#writing tag #yugioh #sevens #gakuyuga

5 notes · View notes

starks-sweetheart · 5 years ago

Text

Of Sweet Surprises

A/N: So, I completely messed this up last time by deleting the f*cking post. Anyway! It’s back now! And it’s also on AO3!

Warnings: mpreg, discussion of abortion, implied sexual content, Tony is a bit of an ass, but he gets better at the end.

Enjoy!

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

“Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good,” Peter Parker says exactly two weeks after he and Tony Stark first have sex.

"It's okay, kid. It's probably just a cold."

"I know what a cold feels like, Mr. Stark." He's almost crying now because he doesn't know what's going on and Tony doesn't believe him. "This is bad. My stomach is all in knots, and I've been sick every morning. Just the smell of your coffee is about to make me puke. I think I need to go to the doctor..."

"Look, really. I'm sure it's nothing. You just take a break from the lab today, okay? Take a nap or something," is what Tony says. It can't be anything else. Peter probably got himself all worked up over the fact that they had sex, and he made himself sick. It happens to a lot of people.

Peter just sort of nods and does as he's told, tears brimming in his cheeks. He's always been sensitive, but he never cries about being sick. So why in the world is he acting this way? It doesn't make sense.

Two weeks after that, he feels even worse. He can barely get up in the morning. When he does, all he can choke down is toast, and sometimes tea. Only then does Tony really start to take it seriously.

So he takes Peter to one of his trusted doctors. Someone who can keep his mouth shut about Spider-Man.

This turns out to be a very wise decision, since the doctor chooses to run some very odd tests - who tests a teenage boy for pregnancy? - which come back with even stranger results.

"So, there are only two possibilities," the doctor says, looking at Peter - who is as white as the gown he has on - and Tony - who looks grim, with his hand on Peter's back gently. "You're either pregnant, or you have cancer."

Peter lets out a sort of hiccup sound, eyes going round. That is the exact opposite of what he hoped a trip to the doctor would do. This just makes him more terrified than he already was. Tears roll steadily down his cheeks. Neither of those is something he wants to deal with. Cancer? He could die. A baby? He's still a kid himself. How is he supposed to raise a child?

Beside him, Tony stiffens considerably. He holds his breath. This is a joke. That's not possible. It was one time. No one gets pregnant the first time they have sex. And surely not a teenager. And definitely not teenage boys. They're, like, the last on the list of possible mothers. Parents? What the hell is he even supposed to call this? Peter.

Tony finally looks down at the boy and feels his heart shatter. The poor kid looks completely shocked. He isn't breathing, either, save for a few tiny shaking breaths. And he's already got tears streaking down his perfect cheeks.

"It's very hard to tell at this point which it is," the doctor continues, his voice going soft as he watches the two. "We can do a couple scans to see if any cancer is visible at the time. Judging by the time frame, we won't be able to tell if you're pregnant for a little while longer. It's a bit harder to detect with male pregnancies."

The words go in one ear and right out the other. Peter can't pay attention. He's either going to die or have his life stripped away from him. It's a good thing that Tony pays attention to what's going on. And he really does. He listens intently to the doctor, weighing their options.

"Peter? Hey, why don't we do a couple more tests, okay? Some scans, like he said," Tony says softly, looking down tenderly at the boy.

He expects a nod. Maybe a word or two. But he doesn't expect Peter to throw his arms around him, sobbing openly into his chest. Tony's shirt quickly gets soaked.

"I don't wanna go, Mr. Stark," comes the broken sob. "I don't wanna go. Please. I don't wanna go."

Tony can't tell what he's talking about. He doesn't want to go to the test? He doesn't want to find out? That's not an option. Then Peter whimpers out another sentence.

"I don't wanna die..."

Of course. His mind jumped automatically to the worst possible scenario. Tony should have expected that.

He gently rubs Peter's back, casting a look at the doctor, who quickly excuses himself from the room. Tony kisses the top of Peter's head, holding him close.

"You're not gonna die, okay?" He reassures quietly. "It's alright. You're not gonna die. We got here really early, remember? They're gonna be able to help you. I promise. You'll be okay. I've got you. We're in this together, baby."

Baby. The word is heavy on his tongue. Baby . He plays around with it in his mind, thinking of all the possibilities. Nothing is set in stone, though. He isn't sure that Peter is pregnant. And if he is, he might not even want to keep the baby. He is still a teenager, after all. Not to mention the fact that he's fucking Spider-Man.

Despite the situation, Tony chuckles inwardly at that sentence. That's what got them into this mess.

“Promise?” Peter parrots, looking up at Tony with those wonderful - but currently heart wrenching - brown eyes. “You promise I’m gonna be okay?”

Immediately, Tony nods. Of course Peter is going to be okay. Tony has the best doctors. The best treatment. And Peter will too. Anything else is unthinkable.

“You’re gonna be just fine. I promise.”

They run more tests and do more scans. Every pregnancy test comes back positive. Every scan comes back negative. It doesn’t take a doctor to tell them what that means. And yet, the doctor confirms it.

“I’m unsure if this is good or bad for the two of you, but you are pregnant, Mr. Parker,” he says, delivering the news as carefully as he can. “Either that or every single one of the dozens of tests Mr. Stark had us run was inaccurate. I can recommend a couple different courses of action, depending on how you choose to go forward with this.”

It takes them a moment to figure out what he’s talking about. There’s only one way to “go forward with this”, isn’t there? Peter’s going to have a baby.

When he looks at the doctor again, he realizes what he means. He doesn’t have to keep this baby.

Before he says anything, he looks up at Tony. Without even looking down at him, Tony speaks.

“He’s keeping the baby,” he says decisively, arm tightening around Peter’s shoulders. “ We’re keeping the baby.”

Peter swallows softly. While he doesn’t have any immediate desire to have an abortion, he does want to be able to look at his options. But Tony pretty much just blew that out of the water completely.

Fortunately, the doctor seems to see what’s going on. He gives a little nod and then holds a pamphlet out. Tony tries to take it, but the doctor pulls it back. He makes sure that Peter gets it in his own hands. As much as he cares about Tony, he won’t allow him to take complete control over the decision here. Peter is the one who would have to carry the baby, and he’d likely be the one to do most of the caring.

After the doctor leaves, Peter gets dressed again. He feels very much out of the world. This isn’t fair. He’s pregnant. It was one time! Just one time! What are the odds of that?

He’s probably going to be stuck with this baby because apparently Tony wants it, and Peter can’t do that - he can’t get an abortion if Tony wants the kid. It’s his baby, too. None of this is fair at all.

Tony watches with a stoic expression. Peter’s pregnant. He’s going to have a baby, and it’s his fault. He’s the one who did this to the poor kid. What is his aunt going to think? What is the rest of the world going to think? They’ll find out eventually. When Spider-Man and Iron Man have a child, the world will find out.

When Peter is dressed, Tony wordlessly loops his arm around the boy’s back, leading him out of the hospital and to the car. The drive back to the compound is silent. Where Tony would usually have music, the only sound is the tires on the road and a faint hum of the engine.

Peter leans against the car door, staring out of the window. He feels like some pathetic music video, just watching all the other cars go by with tears rolling down his cheeks.

Once they’re finally there, Peter heads straight to his room. Tony stops him with a single sound in the back of his throat. He turns and looks at him, an adorably angry look on his ruddy face.

“We need to talk, bud.” Tony’s tone and words leave no room for discussion. “Come on.”

He leads Peter to his own room, locking the door behind them and having JARVIS soundproof the room. After sitting Peter down on the bed he pulls the pamphlet out of the boy’s back pocket.

“God, what part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

“This is a no, okay?”

“But Mr. Stark-”

“It’s not-”

“No, alright?” Tony shouts, making Peter recoil and blink. Tony sits on the bed beside Peter, rubbing his face tiredly. “No. It’s just as much my kid as yours, okay? And you’re not going to…. Just because we didn’t use a condom doesn’t mean that…. God, this is so much harder than I thought it would be.”

Peter is silent for a moment, looking at the man in distress beside him. He knows how he feels. He wishes this hadn’t happened. He doesn’t want to have to make this decision either. But it’s something that they have to do. They have to do this. Whatever the hell this is. He wouldn’t change the fact that they had sex, but if he could go back in time, Peter would make sure that they used condoms.

“I just think we really need to think about this,” Peter whispers slowly and carefully. “This is a lifelong commitment, and… I… don’t… know if I’m… ready for that.”

Tony shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath. Peter wishes he could hear. Wishes Tony would speak up. Muttering isn’t going to help anyone.

“I just want to keep my options open, at least for now,” Peter continues. “And I wanna tell Aunt May. I want to know what she thinks, too, okay? This affects me more than it does you, and I want my family to know.”

Instead of being mature and level headed, like Peter hoped he would be, Tony gets up off of the bed with a huff. He paces a bit, running a hand through his hair. He knows that Peter is right. He can’t force him to have a baby. Even if it’s his. But how is he supposed to balance that with the fact that he wants to keep it? Obviously it isn’t that he has a right to it. He has no more of a right to keep the child than Peter has to free himself of it. So why is this so hard?

“Yeah,” he finally says, forcing himself to give a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, you’re right. Keep your options open. That’s great. I, uh, I think I wanna be alone tonight, okay kid?”

Peter nods dumbly, feeling his throat close up. He’s going to cry. Again. Tony is mad at him. He’s hurt. They both are. So Peter stands from the bed and grabs the pamphlet from the dresser where Tony left it. He ducks his head as he walks past the man, feeling his eyes on him. Usually they would kiss. Usually they would fall asleep in one another’s arms. But that’s not happening tonight. On a night when it most definitely should be happening.

Instead of sleeping, Peter stays up practically all night, reading articles online. Articles from both sides. He wants to be well-informed, after all. He cries reading them.

The next day, he goes back home without even saying hello or goodbye to Tony. He cries on the train.

He cries again when he tells his aunt. She cries with him. She helps him understand everything, talking through it all with him. She wants him to be safe and happy. She wants him to be okay. Once he’s made up his mind, they cry again.

Peter falls asleep with his hand on his belly and tears rolling down his cheeks and soaking his pillow. And a smile on his lips.

The day after that, Peter skips school. He goes back to the compound, shaking nervously. He’s made up his mind - on his own, but with guidance from May - and it’s time to tell Tony.

JARVIS lets him in without any problems, as usual. Tony’s told the AI to always let Peter in, no matter the time or occasion. He makes his way to the lab without even having to ask JARVIS if that’s where Tony is. That’s where he always is. Especially when he’s upset about something.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter says nervously, having to shout over the loud music. It immediately gets quieter. “I, uh… I wanted… I need to talk to you.��

Tony stares at him, not speaking. He has nothing to say. Peter knows his stance on what he’s undoubtedly here to talk about. Peter knows he wants the baby. But Tony knows that it’s important to Peter to get whatever choice he wants. That’s when Tony realizes that maybe Peter is scared.

“Yeah, okay,” Tony says with a tiny smile, putting his work down and walking over to Peter.

He puts his arm around him gently, guiding him once again into the bedroom. It’s better for whatever news to be delivered in the comfort of a bedroom rather than the coldness of the lab. Once they’re on the bed again, Tony leans over and kisses Peter’s nose gently. Then his lips. Softly. Reverently.

“I’m behind you, okay?” Tony breathes, taking Peter’s hand. “Whatever you choose, I’m gonna back you on it. I’m here for you.”

Those words nearly make Peter cry. But there’s no reason to be upset. Tony’s going to support him. No matter what happens. So Peter returns the kiss, takes Tony’s other hand, and swallows softly.

“I’m going to keep the baby, Tony,” he whispers, looking Tony from one eye to the other while he waits for a reaction.

He gets it a moment later. Tony’s mouth goes slack. His eyes round out and then soften so quickly it's almost impossible to see. Then he tugs Peter into a tight hug, kissing his ear, neck, and shoulder. Peter can hear the shaky breaths coming from his mouth. Tony’s crying. And just like that, so is Peter. They cling onto one another crying. But they’re happy tears.

“Oh my god, really? Yeah?” Tony breathes when he finally pulls away. Peter just nods, smiling and laughing through his tears.

“Yeah, really,” he says, leaning forward to kiss Tony again. “We’re gonna have a baby. Tony, we’re gonna have a baby. We have a baby. You’re a dad!”

Tag list: @starker-rays, @starkerforlife, @helloselfindulgence, @peter-b-starker, @lilsoshie, @tigger232

Tony grins impossibly wider at that. He pulls Peter down onto the bed, kissing him over and over, loving the way Peter laughs between the kisses and how he threads his fingers through his hair. When he hears a soft hitch in the boy’s breath, well… he couldn’t complain. They had celebrating to do.

_____________________

#starker #starker fic #starker writing #my writing #tony stark/peter parker #mpreg #male pregnancy #peter is pregnant #tw: abortion discussion

80 notes · View notes

ghostbustermelanieking · 6 years ago

Text

a dozen different lives

summary: Five lives Mulder and Scully shared.

written for a fic prompt by @o6666666 and an anon from a soulmate au prompt list: 19. the one where soulmates are reincarnated and keep finding each other throughout their different lives. it got a lot longer than i expected, so i decided to make it a separate post.

i borrowed a couple of scenarios from my tfwid rewrite, but they don’t necessarily exist in the same universe, and you do not have to read that fic to understand this one. there are also references to tfwid and triangle. in researching the historical portion of triangle, i discovered that the OSS didn’t exist until 1942, but in the TXF universe it existed in 1939, so let’s say that it does here, too.

---

The match is made by their parents. An arrangement that will be beneficial to their families and all of their neighbors. He is skeptical, initially, of the idea of an arranged marriage—although he has been told by his mother and many other people that love is a luxury—and he can tell, as soon as he sees her, that she is, too. But still, skepticism is not necessarily a way out, and they are married that day.

That night, together inside their new home, he offers to let her have the bed to herself. “I do not want you to be uncomfortable,” he says, “since we are strangers despite our new connection.”

Relief washes over her face, and she smiles. She has a beautiful, face-splitting smile. “You are quite kind,” she says, sitting in the edge of the bed. “I believe I will accept your offer, although I do not know if it can last forever. I know that children are expected from this union.”

“It can last as long as we like,” he says. “I would prefer to get to know you, if that is all right.”

She nods, her hands folded primly in her lap. “I would like that very much,” she says.

And so she takes the bed and he sleeps in another room.

When he came up with the idea the day before, he had expected the distance to remain, perhaps for the entirety of their lives together. But that does not seem to be the case. When she shares breakfast with him in the morning, they have a lively conversation, and hope blooms within his heart.

---

Throughout his life, he has seen many unhappy marriages that he knows were arranged. That he knows there is no love in. His parents are an example. He had expected the same thing out of his own marriage. But that does not seem to be the case. He has been getting to know his new wife, and he has begun to care for her. Maybe even to love her. She is incredibly intelligent, maybe even moreso than him, and they often stay up late nights talking and telling stories. She can make him laugh, harder than he's ever laughed before. She is beautiful, radiantly so. She still sleeps alone, and he would never suggest that she does otherwise unless she wanted to, but the way she smiles at him when she says good night makes him melt.

He is not sure that she feels the same way until one night when they fall asleep by the fire. They fall asleep lying next to each other on the ground, and when he awakens, she is curled up next to him with her head on his shoulder, her hair loose and waving. He lays there for longer than she should, waiting until she starts to stir beside him to move. Her face grows red when she sees him looking at her, and she murmurs an apology, avoiding his eyes. He feels ashamed, as if he has overstepped, until that night after dinner. She covers his hand with hers and says in a soft voice, “Perhaps… you could join me in the bedroom tonight, if you would like. It is your bed, after all.”

His heart leaps in his throat, almost involuntarily. He says, “It would be my honor to do so.”

Later that night, she falls asleep curled in his arms. He thinks to himself that it may be the most blissful moment of his life.

---

They spend much time together. Perhaps more (as people like to comment) than a husband and wife should. They go for long walks each day and spend their nights chatting by the fire. She will often accompany him when he is partaking in his duties, and will often offer her own opinions on the matter. They find excuses to spend more time together. He is tempted to explain to people that it is because they are in love, and that is the simple truth of it. He wants to spend time with her, as he should, since she is his wife.

He muses, sometimes, on how fortunate he is. How he could've connected so strongly with a woman who was strange to him not two years ago—how he could've gotten as lucky as to be paired with her. It feels as if it is a miracle.

After three years of marriage, their first child comes. It comes with a bit of a scare, as all births do—he fears, of course, that he will lose her, or the baby, or both—but it is fortunately an easy birth. His wife lives, although she is weak for a few weeks afterwards, and so does the baby. He is so grateful that he nearly weeps at her bedside, kissing her sweaty temple and repeating his thankful mantra: that he is so happy that she is okay, that he does not know what he would have done if he had lost her. He feels as if he is the most fortunate man in the world.

---

Later—years later, when their children are nearly grown and they have been living together for what seems like an eternity—she will take his hands and tell him, “I must admit something to you; I was not at all sure about this union prior to meeting you.”

He laughs with ease. “I will admit the same thing,” he tells her. “It feels so foolish now, to view it in this manner.”

She narrows her eyes at him in a jovial warning. “I was afraid you would be cruel, or quite different from myself. I hated that I had to marry a man I had never met.”

He had felt the same way. He clasps her hand close and listens attentively.

“But you are right,” she continues, looking up at him with the same loving look in his eyes that always brings him to his knees. “Those thoughts seem foolish now. I cannot imagine ever having married anyone else but you. I…” She falters a bit, looking back down. “I find it hard to express, sometimes, the depth of my love for you.”

His chest swells with the same care he has felt for her since that first night they spent together, and he takes her hand and kisses the back of it. “You should not find it difficult,” he tells her. “You make it known. I feel as if the two of us have always understood the other's feelings… and I do understand yours. You need not feel as if there is something lacking in the way you express yourself to me… truthfully, you do not even have to say anything out loud. I know. I would always know.”

She smiles at that, and moves forward until she is leaning against him. He winds his arm around her and leans down to whisper into her hair. “And I love you,” he says, “more than words can say.”

ii.

She has seen the woman before, the one with the fiery hair: at the river when they gather to wash clothes. She has not spoken to her before tonight, but sometimes, when she begins to tell the stories she makes up at night, stories she tells her cousin of fairies and goblins and spirits, she sees the bright-haired woman rolling her eyes, almost playfully.

Now, now their village is ablaze, and she is certain that her family is dead. They were inside the house; the only reason she was not was because she was mending the laundry outside. Her father angers when they burn the lanterns too long, and so she had been mending by the moonlight, and she'd fallen asleep, and woken up with heat on her face and to her little cottage on fire. She had screamed her family's names and they had not answered. The fire spread to the dry grass at the edge of the house, flaring up dangerously close to the edge of her skirt, and God help her, she had ran. She had not known what else to do, where else to go; she did not want to go alone.

And so it was. She had run through the heat, through the burning houses and fields, firelight flickering in her eyes and her skirt clutched in her hands so she would not trip. Until she ran directly into the bright-haired girl from the river. She was her nightclothes, the white of the shift stained with soot, her face smeared with soot and tears, her sunshine hair streaming down her back. She regretted, then, ever describing the girl's hair as fiery.

Neither of them had said anything. They had both been crying, and they were both terrified. The girl had wordlessly reached for her hand, and she had taken it. They both began to run together.

And now, with the inferno far behind them, their pace has slowed to a walk. The girl's hand is cold, as is the night, the freezing wind whipping around them and pushing at their hair. They have never spoken before tonight, but now they whisper to each other in the night as they walk together up the lonely road. The girl speaks of how she escaped, how she had smelled the smoke and felt the heat and slipped out of the window before thinking of her mother, her widowed mother who was the only one inside their small house. The girl cries, and she cries with her, wiping her tears and leaving smudges of ash along her cheeks. She tells the girl of her lost parents and her cousin, a ward of their family who had become like a sister to her. They walk through the moonlight, shivering in the cold.

---

They reach the next village by morning. When they walk into the marketplace, they see the whispers of the men and women at their informality: two peasant girls, one in her dressing gown with her hair loose and uncovered, their faces smeared with soot. When they tell their story, the villagers demand to know why they are the only survivors. They send a rider to go and examine the village, to find whether or not they are telling the truth. There are whispers of witches in the crowd, and she begins to feel for her life all over again. Until an employee of the lord of this manor system spots them and takes pity on them.

They are taken to the manor, being warned repeatedly that they must pray that the lord has much pity as the servant has, that orphans such as them would be fortunate to give such an honor as to work for the lord. There are things she wants to say in response to this, but she bites her tongue and stays at the bright-haired girl's side. Her tongue has gotten her in trouble many times. She does not know what she would do if they were turned away.

But they are not. The pity does indeed extend to two poor orphan girls. The lord remarks that they may start as scullery maids, and that they should learn their duties quickly, and that they should be grateful for the opportunity given to them. They both thank him meekly, heads bowed, although she notes a spark of defiance in the other girl's eyes.

They are shown to a small room with no window, with an even smaller bed that they are to share. And then they are put straight to work.

---

The work is often larger than the work that she used to do in her father's home, alongside her mother and cousin, but it is not that different. Still, she does not take to it quickly, and is often scolded or struck for mistakes. The other girl takes to it quicker and sometimes helps her, offers suggestions in the dark of their shared room. They rise at dawn and to to sleep late at night. Often, she falls asleep with enough space between the two of them that would be considered respectable and wakes up curled up at the other girl's back. Sometimes, she will find the other girl curled up against her as well, her bright hair falling across their faces. It is strangely comforting in a way that initially makes her feel guilty, but she reminds herself that she and her cousin used to sleep close to conserve warmth.

Often, she will have violent nightmares and wake up crying out for her mother, her cousin. The other girl will often press a hand over her mouth, simply to prevent her from crying out too loud—the first time she had woken up screaming, the cook had come into the room and slapped them both, warned them not to wake her again, lest they wake the lord and his family—but then she will calm her. She strokes her hair, wipes her tears away, and whispers, Shush. Shush. You are all right. It is enough to calm her, to lull her back to sleep. The other girl holds her hand as she drifts off.

When the bright-haired girl wakes up crying out, she will do the same for her.

---

As the years pass, the work becomes easier. The punishments and scoffs and cruel words lessen. She grows closer to the other servants, finds a companionable nature in some of them. But the bright-haired girl from her former village remains the most companionable, her truest friend. They often stay up much later than they should, whispering together in the dark. Her friend often urges her to tell her ghost stories, despite not believing any of them. She urges her friend to tell her own stories. They whisper together when mending clothes, when doing the laundry, when drawing the water or changing the bedclothes. They occasionally braid each other's hair in the morning, pick up the slack on each other's chores, share their rations when necessary.

They still sleep curled close together. It is often too cold to do otherwise. Her friend will often reach for her hand and clasp it in hers. Sometimes they will sleep with their arms around each other. Sometimes her friend freezing feet will press against hers. Sometimes she'll wake up with her face in her friend's sunshine hair.

---

The first time that the girl kisses her, in secret in the dark of their room, it feels like they have done something wrong. They both feel guilty the next morning; they avoid each other's eyes, work in silence, slip into bed in silence. She feels guilty, yes, but she also feels embarrassed for her avoidance of her friend.

But she finds she cannot stop thinking about it throughout the days, when she does her chores, in the quiet moments where there is no one to talk to. She keeps thinking of the softness of her friend's lips, of the way she whispered her name just before. She is remembering once when her cousin told her of a kiss with a boy by the river, the way it made her feel. Her cousin said that she was in love. She always said that she had not understood.

The truth of it is that she has lost everyone else she loves in the world, and her friend is all she has left. She loves her dearly; she has known that for years. There is no question of that. (The truth of it is that the two of them go rather unseen. Even their other friends among the servants do not seem to notice them. They do not cry out in their sleep anymore, and so no one comes into their room at night.)

She kisses her friend next, secretly in the dark of their room once again, her fingers tangled in her hair. (Her friend makes a small, surprised sound in the back of her throat, her mouth parting, her fingers clutching tightly at the shoulders of her shift.) It happens again and again, night after night. The guilt lessens each and every time she does it.

---

When the stable boy, the one she has often had conversations with when drawing water, proposes marriage if their lord permits it, she immediately declines.

iii.

She meets him when they are children. Her family lives next to his, and their mothers often do the chores together: hang the laundry, care for the livestock. And so they are often herded along with their mothers to be watched while they work. They begin to play together at a young age, for almost as long as she can remember. The first time he convinces her to run off into the woods while their mothers are distracted, she thinks a part of her knows she has found the right person to spend time with. They come back hours later to their furious mothers and a spanking, both covered in dirt and her dress torn, but she doesn't care at all.

From then on, they are always spending time together, getting into trouble together. She's always afraid he's going to want to play with someone else, but her older sisters have no interest in playing, and his brother is still just a baby. So it's always just the two of them. They get into so much trouble that her mother says, daily, that he is a bad influence, that it's unladylike to run around so and she should sit down quietly like her sisters. But there are no other children around for them to play with, and she refuses to be discouraged. Eventually, their mothers mostly give up.

---

“I want to go places,” he tells her at age ten. They've snuck away from their chores (they usually end up doing chores together; she has no brothers, and since she's always been a bit of a tomboy, her father encourages her to do the chores normally intended for a boy), and they're sitting by the river. He's throwing stones into the river, trying to skip them; she's reading a book from her father's library. “I want to travel the world, and fight pirates, and have adventures.”

“That sounds quite interesting,” she says absently, turning a page.

He throws a pebble; it hits the back of her book, and she looks up at him. “You could come with me,” he says. “You could be my first mate.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes at him. “First mates are not girls,” she tells him. “And besides that, why should you be in charge?”

“Captains aren't girls, either,” he says stubbornly, “but perhaps you could be the first.”

“Aye, perhaps I could be,” she says absently, going back to her book.

He reaches out to tweak her left braid, and she looks up. “I do not want to travel with anyone else,” he says seriously. “Please come with me. You can be the captain, if you want.”

She blinks in surprise, smoothing her mud-stained skirt. “Perhaps I shall,” she says, smiling teasingly at him. “Someday, when we are older.”

He smiles right back. He throws a handful of pebbles into the flowing water, splashes her with a kick of his foot, and she squeals indignantly and splashes him right back.

---

When they get older, talks of marriage begin, of course. Their two small farms have grown into a slightly larger settlement, and there are suddenly more young people around them. Her oldest sister is betrothed, and will be married in the fall, and her other sister begins to whisper. “Are you not betrothed as well?” she asks her with a giggle.

She doesn't want to speak of such things, she tells her sister. She's being incredibly silly. But the older they get, the more she begins to think about it. It is almost involuntarily, but she begins to think about it. When they're mucking stalls together, or hunting, or caring for the cows and pigs. When he's giving back the books she gave him, or telling her stories, or climbing up onto the back of her horse (that she rides bareback despite her mother's horror at how unladylike it is), holding onto her waist and laughing wildly in her ear as she drives the horse into a gallop. They still spend too much time together; her mother tells her again and again that it isn't proper. They are nearly adults, nearly at the age of marriage. They should not be spending so much time alone. But it doesn't matter to her. She's never been much of a listener.

One night when they are seventeen, she wakes to a flurry of pebbles at her window. He's standing in her yard with a lantern flickering across his face, squinting up at her. She's downstairs in a minute, the two of them slipping together into the stables.

They sit together in the loft, brushing aside the hay in case the lantern falls. He hands her half a piece of bread, fresh-baked by his mother, and she inhales deeply, smiling. They chew for a few moments in silence before he bumps his shoulder against hers. “I have learned some news that I wanted to share with you,” he says.

She looks over at him, raising her eyebrows at him. His tone suggests that it is not good news. “All right,” she says.

He takes a deep breath. In, out. He reaches out as if he is going to touch her knee but pauses, pulling his hand back. “I—” he begins before pausing abruptly, clearing his throat several times. “My parents,” he says, “have made a match for me.”

She freezes, her shoulders tensing. The bread, unnoticed, falls out of her hand and below to the floor. “Oh,” she says. “That… that is fortunate.”

“Yes.” His feet are swinging in the air. He isn't looking at her. “It… it is to that girl we often see at the well. They believe her family will be advantageous to have a link to.”

“Indeed.” She swallows, almost painfully. “I… I should offer my congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he says quietly. He reaches out gingerly, again, and does touch her knee with soft fingers. “I… Do you remember when we were young? The things we wanted to do?”

“I do,” she whispers, her eyes half-shut. She swings her own feet. She feels foolish, scrubbed raw, although she could not explain why if she was to be asked. “You wanted to travel the world.”

“I wanted you to come with me,” he says. He taps her knee through her nightgown with one finger. “I… I think about that sometimes. It's tempting to hold onto those childhood dreams.”

Her face goes red-hot, and she shuts her eyes all the way. She feels so foolish, so childish. Like maybe she should have listened when her mother told her that she should not be spending so much time with him anymore. Or when her sister asked if they were betrothed. She wonders if he's ever seen her as anything more than a sister, or a childhood memory. “Yes,” she says, rubbing a hand over her face. She will not cry. There is no reason to cry. Someday she will be married and he will be married and all of this will just be memories. She scoots across the edge of the loft, puts her feet into the rungs and swings herself around so she can descend. “I am very happy for you and your engagement,” she says, swallowing hard. “I'm sure the two of you will be very happy together.”

He sits up a little straighter in the flickering lantern light. “Wait,” he's saying, “wait, don't go…” But she's already gone. She reaches the bottom of the ladder and slips out of the stables, back into the house. She wipes her eyes as she creeps up into her bedroom. She lets herself cry.

---

There is a distance between them following this revelation. They still spend time together, still work together, but there is a distance between them. She feels insecure now, like she has revealed too much, pushed the boundaries. He is as quiet and respectful as she may have expected. They do not discuss the impending wedding, where he will live, if it will be far. They do not discuss it at all.

Her mother begins to speak of a match for her, and she always grimaces at the prospect. She's tempted to say that she'll never be married, but that feels too silly and unbelievable. She had never really considered marriage until recently, and never with anyone besides him. Thinking of it now just leaves her embarrassed, and so she refuses to speak of it. She does the same things she has always done, throws herself into her work and pretends that nothing is wrong.

She must do a bad job of hiding things because he begins to ask, nearly daily, if she is all right. After weeks of replying with a simple, “I am fine,” she loses her resolve and snaps, “And what do you presume is wrong, exactly? Why do you care for my feelings so deeply?”

The way he draws back from her with hurt in his eyes, as if she has slapped him, tells her she may have gone too far, after months of long silences and irritable responses. He mumbles a quick apology and turns away, is gone before she can offer an apology of her own.

They begin to avoid each other. She arranges her chores so that she does not have to work with him. She begins hiding in her room with her father's books (another unladylike habit her mother often comments on, reading) instead of venturing out. Her second sister, now betrothed herself, tells her that she is being silly and she should simply tell him how she feels. She tells her sister that this is ridiculous. She knows he does not feel the same way about her. If she is going to make amends, than she will have to work to preserve their friendship and nothing more. (And even their friendship will ultimately fall through, because it will not be appropriate, once he is married, for him to retain a friendship with a young, unmarried woman.) She tries to tell herself, once again, that she is growing up and a natural part of growing up is losing your childhood. And he is everything she can think of when she thinks of her childhood.

She does not know what else to do. She reads the books he lent her years ago, and greets his fiance as politely as she can muster at the well, and she tries not to think about attending his wedding someday.

---

One day, weeks after their last encounter, his father comes to their house. She foolishly thinks it is about the rift in their friendship, but of course, it is not; he has come to tell her that his son has gone on an extended hunting trip with some of the other men in town, and he wonders if she would mind taking over some of his duties. She's immediately shocked; she had no idea that he was even gone. He has gone hunting plenty of times before, although it's usually with her and they've never gone overnight; her mother would have died with shame. She is a little hurt, but she has no right to be; she reminds herself that she has initiated the distance with him. She tells his father she'll do his chores.

There has been talks of the war; she has heard whispers of them when merchants come through. A few of the valiant men in the growing settlement have volunteered to enlist in the army. But it is largely limited to the coast, and they are far from the ghost. They have not seen any battles, any deaths. It is so far off that they can nearly forget it is happening. And she has forgotten that it is happening, until she gets the news.

A lone member of the hunting party scrambles into town several days later, frantic and terrified. He tells them that the enemy came across their party when they stumbled across a fort. That they took everyone in the hunting party (aside from him; he escaped into the woods) hostage. That they are taking them to the coast, and there were discussions of whether or not they should be killed.

She is instantly horrified, as is the rest of this town. The men gather to discuss negotiations to get the party back, but the general consensus seems to be that they have no power in this situation. The most they can do is try to get in touch with their country's army, to see if they can organize some sort of rescue, but the best thing to do, they tell the families, might be to give their sons up for dead.

She won't accept that. She refuses to accept that. She sees people who are distressed, his fiance distressedly twisting her handkerchief in her hands, almost theatrically, and she doesn't understand it because he isn't necessarily even dead yet. How can they give up on him when he is still alive somewhere, and he needs help? She cannot understand it. She tells her father that they need to go to find him and the other men, that they can't just leave them for dead and rely on an army of people they have never met to save him, and her father tells her sternly that there is nothing that they can do and she should let it go. That she should not think of these things, especially about another man's fiance. Her mother tells her that she needs to forget it, and she should take this as a sign to stop this unladylike behavior that has been going on too long. She can't understand their dismissal, after so many years with him. She's grown up alongside him, he's as much a part of her life as any of her family, and she doesn't understand how her family, his family can just dismiss it. She saw his little brother at the meeting, and he was as angry as she is, protesting the abandonment of his brother, but his parents and his fiance seemed to have dismissed him as dead. She cannot understand it. She needs him to be safe, she needs him to come home.

Her sister whispers to her, “If you truly love him, you could go for him.” And as much as it is her instinct to deny it, she cannot get the suggestion out of her head.

She slips downstairs that night, steals some food from the kitchen, her father's gun she used for hunting, and slips out the door. She takes her horse from the stable, climbing onto its back, and rides off into the woods without another thought. She is going to get him back.

---

She rides for days, her hair flying out behind her and tangling in the wind, her cloak flapping around her. She is headed towards the coast, towards where the man said they were taking the hostages. She doesn't exactly have a plan, which worries her a bit, but she doesn't know that there's a feasible one. She just knows she has to try.

She stops through many towns on her way, and they all have no information, until she reaches one nearly fifty miles from home. There, she finds a unit of soldiers, and finds one who knows of the hostages. She gets information by lying and telling him that she is his fiance; shame rises in her throat, but she pushes it back, tells herself that she is doing it for him and no one ever has to know.

The soldier tells her that there is an attack planned on the fort where they are being held, and that they may be released during the attack, if they are still alive. He directs her to the area where the fort is and advises her to steer clear of the battle.

She rides in the direction he advises, thinking as she goes about all the things he's done for her and she for him, about all of the promises they made and the adventures they planned that seem childish now. She tells herself that whatever happens after this doesn't matter, as long as he gets out alive. She doesn't care if he gets married or doesn't get married or goes off to travel the world; she just wants him to be okay.

---

She gets there in the midst of the battle, which is almost a relief; she would be willing to charge into the midst of a fort to rescue him, but she feels as if doing so would just get them both killed. She can't get anywhere near the front lines, to her frustration, so she stays at an inn nearby, waiting in the pub to hear news. As soon as she hears that the fort has been captured, that their army is victorious, she slips out to the stables, takes her horse from its stall, and rides straight to the front.

The edge of the fort is crawling with soldiers, enemy prisoners, bodies that have not been moved. She picks through, ignoring the questions and jeers of soldiers, until she sees a cluster of men she recognizes, sitting along a log with blankets around their shoulders. She sees men she recognizes, men she's talked to, and then she sees him—the back of his head, overgrown and shaggy, the slump of his shoulders, and she calls his name. She pulls her horse to a stop as he turns towards her, slides to the ground and begins to run towards him. Shock dances over his face as he stumbles to his feet, the rough blanket slipping from his shoulders, a beard beginning along his jaws and his eyes wide. She calls his name again, running to his side, touching his jaw with gentle fingers. There's a bruise along his face, his eye swelling, and rope burns around his wrists, and he looks so small and whole and she's so happy to see him. She resists the urge to wrap her arms around him. “Are you all right?” she whispers.

He nods, his jaw clenched. “Those bastards were plenty rough, but I'm all right… What are you doing here?” He touches the side of her face with the rough palm of his hand; he almost looks as if he's going to cry.

“I’ve come to find you,” she says firmly, not leaving room for questions. She reaches up to touch the spot beside his blackening eye, and he winces. “What did they do?” she whispers.

“What anyone would do with any hostages… You traveled all this way?” He is staring at her in astonishment. “You have come so far… for me? After everything?”

Her nose stings, her eyes burn; she feels as if she's going to cry. “Of course I came,” she whispers, and smiles. “I am your traveling companion, remember? Your first mate?”

“You are the captain,” he whispers, and smiles back at her. “You… I can't believe you…” He cups her cheek, stroking it with one thumb. He leans down and kisses her softly. She kisses him back, her mouth falling open under his; his hands are on her waist, holding her close, and she cannot believe it. They have never kissed before. When his lips touch hers, it feels as if the horrific scene and all the soldiers around them have fallen away.

When he pulls away, he seems a bit dazed. “I… thank you,” he murmurs.

“I would do it again,” she whispers, taking his hands. Her traveling companion. Her dearest friend.

He looks down down at their joined hands, their tangled fingers. “I… I know that I am betrothed,” he says hesitatingly, “but… I do not wish to be married. At least not to her.”

She sniffles. She squeezes his hands.

“I… I think I would prefer to be married to someone else,” he says.

She dips her head to rest her nose against his knuckles. She whispers, “I think that is very wise.”

He pulls one hand out of hers and lifts it, sliding his thumb under her chin and tipping it so that he meets her eyes. He is looking at her in that soft way he used to when they were children and she helped him to climb a tree, when she first came outside after a long, nasty illness that left her bedridden at age twelve, when they had accidentally fallen asleep in the stables at fifteen and had to sneak back into the house without getting caught, that way he'd looked at her when she first woke up. “Shall we go together?” he whispers. “You can still be the captain, the way I promised you.”

Her answer is her lips against his again, when she rises on her tiptoes and takes his face in her hands and kisses him. They will go together, wherever they go, and this is the way it was meant to be.

iv.

She meets him on accident. It's because of the dead-end job that her father got her, a secretary job for a government official that she's only working at to save money to attend college. A reporter apparently has an interest in interviewing her boss, and she's sent instead. He seems as annoyed as she is at the entire prospect, but after a few minutes, she figures out that he's not really annoyed with her. “I think that's pretty demeaning to the both of us, don't you think?” he asks, and that warms her to him considerably.

He doesn't end up interviewing her, but they end up talking for hours. She slips up and complains about her job, about the lapse in her education, about years of basically being ignored or overlooked, and he doesn't chide her or laugh in dismissive amusement. He listens. He offers stories of his own frustrations with reporting, with the dead-end assignments his boss gives him, and she laughs despite herself. She likes him, almost without having to think about it. When he asks her to dinner after the non-interview, against her better judgement, she accepts.

They take it slow, at her insistence. As much as she likes the guy, she doesn't want to rush into anything. She doesn't want to be duped by some guy who's not looking for anything serious. But that doesn't seem to be the case here. He seems to like her, genuinely like her. He doesn't talk down to her, he asks for her opinions on things. He starts wanting her to come along on his jobs, to do some investigative reporting. She should probably say no, but she's always been a sucker for an adventure.

She doesn't do it on purpose—she used to tell her mother as a child, rebellious and furious, that she would never get married—but she finds herself falling in love with him.

---

“You should quit,” he tells her one night in his apartment, nights that have started becoming more frequent now. She used to feel guilty about those nights, but she's a grown woman, and besides that, half the building has gotten real fed up with her late night phone calls. “You're better than that job, sweetheart. A million times better.”

She laughs, her head on his shoulder. Maybe a little bitterly, but it's hard to be bitter when he's touching her this way, his hand on her spine. “I don't know what else you think I could get,” she says. “You got any ideas, you let me know.” College is starting to look like a dimmer option, considering how little money she makes. She always wanted to go further than this, than being somebody's secretary, but she doesn't know if she really can.

“You could do it, hon,” he says, stroking her wild hair. His eyes are sparkling in the dark, and he's grinning at her like she's worth a million bucks. That's what he tells her all the time: You look like a million bucks. “You could change the world.”

---

In 1938, he proposes. He doesn't do it in the big, public way that she's heard about girlfriends getting proposed to—he does it in the doorway to her apartment, when she's groaning and pulling her heels off, swearing she's going to give up dancing, at least to swing music, and she turns around, and there he is with the ring. She says yes, of course, because what else is she going to do? She loves him, and she wants to, and she says yes, laughing and nearly crying. He scoops her up and whirls her around, right there in the hall in her sock feet, and she gasps out something about her reputation, even though it's long been ruined, and then she kisses him right there.

They make plans for a wedding—a small one, of course, neither of them can afford a big one even with her father—and plans for a life, a little apartment in DC and a real story for him and a real job for her and maybe children someday, everything they've ever wanted. She tells him that he's daydreaming, and he tells her anything can happen. What if there's another war? she whispers, because she still remembers the aftermath of the first one, her mother crying over her younger brother who was drafted and died somewhere in a trench overseas, she never got over it. What if that happens to them?

Neither of them want to say there won't be another war. They've been reading about every horrible thing happening overseas; they both lost people in the Great War. He lost his father. So he doesn't say that. Instead he says, I'd come back to you. Or you'd come with me.

Oh, baby, she whispers, I don't think it works like that.

It could. It could, you know. We'd find each other.

She wants to believe him. She wants to believe him badly. She kisses him instead and tried to picture the future. A good future.

---

In the end, Europe goes to war but America doesn't. And she goes to war before he does. Her boss comes out of his office and smiles too toothily and tells her that he has a little job for her, that he's seen her potential, that he knows she can do it. It's work for that new government agency, the OSS. He wants her to go on a ship to Europe, the Queen Anne; he wants her to pretend to be the wife of a scientist, an important scientist that they need in Europe, so that no one will suspect who he is. It'll be like she's protecting him.

She wants to tell her boss that she has a gun, that she could actually protect him, but she doesn't dare protest. This is the best opportunity she's had in ages, the only opportunity to do something important. America isn't in the war, but she's been reading about the Allies overseas, the fight they've been fighting, and she knows she wants a part in it. She doesn't see any choice to accept.

Later, that night, she goes to her fiance's apartment. She feels the need to apologize, apologize over and over again, but he tells her not to be ridiculous. Tells her that this is important, that this is the type of thing that she was meant to do and that he's proud of her. “Just be careful,” he tells her with a wayward grin, holding her hand. “If you're serving as somebody's bodyguard.”

She shakes her head with amusement and tells him that she's hardly a bodyguard, she's simply there as this man's cover story, and that's all. He shakes his head in response and kisses the top of her head. You'd sock someone's lights out if given the chance, sweetheart, I know you would.

She packs the nicest things she owns—which isn't much; she has to borrow things from her roommates, and even calls her mother out of desperation. She packs her revolver, too, sliding it out of sight under her clothes. If this person is important as her boss has hinted, then she's not going to just stand there passively as his cover; she's going to take action, if she needs to. He sits on the edge of her bed and teases her and tells her she's going to save the world. She rolls her eyes at him; she has no idea whether or not this will be important, but she doesn't feel important. She feels like a doll.

The night before she leaves, he comes to her apartment. Her roommates are out at work, working the late shifts in a factory, so it is just the two of them. She's already told him he can't come with her to the docks. He puts on the radio, on a slow song that makes her shiver, and the two of them sway together there in the tiny sitting room. “It's odd,” she tells him, “but I feel like I'm leaving for a lot longer. Like I'm not going to see you for a while.” It's ridiculous, that she feels this way, but she knows the danger. She's headed for war-torn Europe with a man who's essentially a weapon. She could be walking into danger.

He shakes his head, holding her closer as they move. She can hear his heartbeat under her ear. “It won't go like that, sweetheart,” he whispers. “It can't. You're going to be amazing, and then you're going to come back home, and we're going to be married. All right?”

“All right,” she whispers, his coat scratchy underneath her palms.

When he leaves, he pauses in the doorway, turns around and kisses her sweetly. “I'll see you in a few weeks,” he says.

She breathes out shakily and touches the side of his face, smiles up at him. “See you then,” she says.

When he's gone, she takes off her engagement ring, reluctantly, and slides it into a pocket on the side of her suitcase. She hates to do it, but she doesn't want people seeing it and asking too many questions. She swears she's going to out it back on the second she gets to England.

---

The scientist she's traveling with is a lot kinder than she expected. He doesn't seem to think she's incapable of actually protecting him, although he smiles a little indulgently when she tells them about the revolver. He promises to keep a respectable distance from her, and he asks her questions about her wedding plans. They schmooze it up with the rich people every night, and she retires to her room afterwards, slips her ring on her finger and writes a letter to her fiance. It's not exactly idyllic, but it's okay. It's all perfectly okay, and she keeps telling herself that it can bring her new opportunities, a way to move up in the world and get herself a better job, when the Nazis show up. And right behind them, a man in ragged clothes who claims to know her, who calls her Scully. He claims he knows about the scientist, which is enough to terrify her, but then the Nazis start killing people in an attempt to extract the information. They almost kill her, more than once, push her to her knees beside this man who calls himself Mulder and put a gun to her head, and all she can think of is the bed in her fiance's apartment, the ring tucked into the side of her suitcase, his face when she said yes. How he told her that she'd come home. How badly she wants to see him again.

They almost kill her, and then they don't, and this Mulder guy pulls her away from the ballroom and through the ship, talking about time travel and Einstein and almost getting killed a couple more times. She'd hate him if he didn't, somehow, remind her of her fiance. A more arrogant version of her fiance. He insists that she has to turn the ship around or he won't exist, or history will go the wrong way, and then he grabs her and kisses her. Kisses her hard and passionately, but sweetly.

She forgets herself for just a moment and kisses him back, before she remembers herself and tears away. She socks him hard across the jaw, and winces at the instantaneous stinging of her knuckles. She's furious, fuming, and so distracted that when the Mulder guy turns around and jumps right off of the ship, she has no idea how to react. She throws the life preserver into the water, searches the black, churning waves for him because goddamnit, he does remind her of her fiance, and he may be an arrogant ass, but she doesn't want him to drown. But he never reappears. He's disappeared, with the answers to all her questions with him.

She shakes her head hard and turns away from the deck. She slips back inside and finds the captain and convinces him to turn the ship around. The passengers somehow subdue the Nazis as they re-enter the Bermuda Triangle. She finds the scientist and takes him back to her room, locking the door and loading her revolver. The scientist holes up at the desk, scribbling on sheets of paper and muttering under his breath. She sits on the bed, slides her ring back on and holds the revolver in her lap and wishes for home.

But she never gets home.

---

They’re adrift for days. Weeks, months. She loses track of time. The water is black, and the sky is always dark, and it’s so foggy that no one can see where they’re going. The climate is all wrong here, she thinks, they’re supposed to be in warm waters. The sailors comment that they should’ve reached land a dozen times by now. She stops keeping track of time.

She remembers what that man, Mulder, told her: that they were in a time warp, or something like that. She doesn’t believe in such ridiculous things, she tells herself a million times, but how, then, have they not gotten home yet?

She keeps writing letters to her fiance, even though she knows she cannot send them. She wears her ring all the time now; it doesn’t matter what people think. She sits at the foggy window and looks out into the nothing, her head against the cool glass. The scientist tries to console her, but she doesn’t listen. She draws absent shapes in the glass, shuts her eyes and wishes for somewhere else. She wishes for him.

She dreams, sometimes, when she can sleep. Dreams and wakes up clutching her ring so hard the stone has left an imprint in her palm. She dreams of him looking for her, hiring investigators who search and find nothing, who tell him she is dead and leave him screaming furiously in their faces. She dreams of him crying for her, refusing to go to a funeral her father arranges, refusing to give up even when multiple people tell him that there’s no hope. She dreams that America enters the war and he enlists, hoping that he will be able to find her somewhere overseas. He writes her letters that he will never send. She wishes, again and again, that she could tell him that she is alive, but she’s not entirely sure that she is. She cries herself, crumpling her handkerchief in her fist and wiping cold tears off of her cheeks. She halfway wishes she’d jumped off that ship after that Mulder man, so she could’ve swam home if nothing else.

She dreams, some time later, that he dies. He dies, bleeds out on a beach in France, and she wakes up screaming his name, and there is no one to hear her. The halls are empty, the ballroom is silent. He is dead, and she thinks she might be, too, and there is no way to find him or to go back home again.

She dreams, once, that he comes to the ship. That he walks into the full ballroom, looking lost, and she runs up to him and he picks her up and whirls her around, the way he did when she said yes, and he holds her so tight. He's kissing her again and again, kissing the tears where they fall, and he tells her, I told you, I told you we'd find each other. It's so vivid she almost thinks it is real.

Later, she lies on her bed, watching the ceiling, as drowsiness overtakes her. She is so tired. She's thinking of Mulder again, for reasons she can't quite explain; she can't stop thinking of how much he reminded her of her fiance. He was an ass but he acted as if he knew her, as if he cared about her… or someone who looked like her. He looked a little bit like her fiance, when they were kneeling beside each other on the ground or just before he jumped or right after he kissed her. He said, It's me, Mulder, and he called her Scully… he called her Scully…

“Scully,” he whispers. “Hey, Scully.”

On the other side of the bed, she grunts—her Mulder, please don't wake me up grunt. He curls a little closer to her in bed, stroking a hand over her forehead. “Scully, are you awake?”

“I am not,” she mutters irritably.

Mulder leans close and presses his lips to her forehead. She swats his shoulder lightly, but he can feel her irritation melting away. She opens one eye to stare at him. “What is it, Mulder?”

He lays his head on her shoulder, winds an arm around her waist. “Do you ever think about reincarnation?” he asks softly.

She opens both eyes now, runs a hand over his arm. “Not since that case in ‘96,” the says. “With… the cult.” She's dancing around a subject she knows is somewhat sensitive. “Besides,” she adds, rubbing that same hand over his shoulder, “I don't particularly believe in it.”

“Oh, really.” He rests his chin on her shoulder, turning on his stomach to look at her. “Not even a little?” he teases.

“Not even a bit,” she says seriously. She ruffles his hair, leans down to kiss him lazily.

He nuzzles his nose against hers. “What about the idea of soulmates?” he whispers.

She reaches out to touch his cheek, to cup the side of it. “Mulder,” she whispers back, “what are you thinking?”

He shrugs. “I've just been thinking about it,” he says. He runs his fingers through her hair, scratching her scalp in that way she likes. “What if… what if soulmates were real, or if reincarnation was real. What if we'd been reincarnated?”

“Well, according to that hypnotism session you participated in, you have been,” she points out. “Remember that?”

He shakes his head. “I don't buy it,” he tells her. “I think that if I've been reincarnated, I've been with you.”

“Well, that was what you said when you were regressing through past lives, Mulder,” she says. “I was your sergeant, remember?”

He shakes his head. “Not like that,” he says.

“Well, then, like what, Mulder?” she asks, persistent.

He shrugs. He lays his cheek on her breastbone. “You'll think I'm cheesy.”

“Mulder, I already know you're cheesy,” she teases. When he doesn't say anything, she nudges him. “Hey,” she says softly. “What is it?”

He sighs a little, his hand spread over her stomach. “I've just been thinking about it,” he says, teasing a little now. “What if we're soulmates? What if we have known each other in past lives, what if we were meant to find each other in this one?”

He can feel her smirking. “You're right, Mulder, that is pretty cheesy,” she says, and he chuckles, leaning up to kiss her underneath her jaw. “In all seriousness, Mulder,” she tells him, her voice solemn now, “I don't believe in these things. But I think we're as much soulmates as anybody else is, if you want to use that terminology.”

“You're such a romantic, Scully,” he teases.

She rolls her eyes. Leans over to kiss him gently. “If you don't mind me asking, Mulder… why is so important to you?” she murmurs. “Why do you want to believe we've been reincarnated so badly?”

He shrugs. “I don't know,” he whispers. “It wouldn't really change anything… but it's a nice idea. That we've known each other for so long. That I'll never really have to lose you, because I've found you before and I could find you again…” He slides up the mattress to kiss her hair gently. “It's just comforting, I guess.”

“Mmm.” Her voice is sleepy again; she snuggles into his side. “You're sweet, Mulder,” she murmurs.

“But you don't believe me,” he says good-naturedly.

“Oh, I don't know.” She yawns, her face half-buried in his neck. “I don't know, Mulder. If anyone could find each other again and again, through multiple lives… it's us.”

“That's true,” he mutters.

She kisses him, right there at his pulse point. “I love you,” she mumbles. “Now let's get some sleep.”

“I love you, too,” he says. He's loved her for as long as he can remember, and if it's at all possible, he'll love her until the end of time.

#i dunno what this is lol #xf fanfic #i wrote this

238 notes · View notes

wolfpawn · 5 years ago

Text

Life is a Game of Risks, Chapter 25

Chapter Summary - Tom plans a surprise for Alexianna, but it does not go according to plan.

TRIGGERS - Past domestic abuse, Past emotional abuse, Past sexual abuse.

Previous Chapter

Tags: @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @theoneanna

Request if you wish to be tagged

Tom planned it, saying nothing to Alexianna only that he wanted her and Lily to come over for dinner, and to bring some clothes to stay overnight, that he wanted to watch a movie after Lily went to bed, when she seemed unsure, he insisted he would not force her to stay in bed with him, he simply wanted time with them. The play had taken most of his time over the few weeks, with it ended and with Thor Ragnarok and the associated madness soon to begin, he wished to spend time with Alexianna before that started.

All through the running of the play, she had sent texts and called on occasion, just to ask him how he was and did he need anything, she even came by as she was about to clean the house a few streets over, for no other reason than to drop some cooked dinners, since he had stated that one night, after a show, he was too tired to cook. She had told him she needed to give him something, then arrived with two cooler bags of cooked meals, gave him a kiss and told him to get rested for the next show, Lily, though she would have loved to spend time with Tom, seemed to realise too that it was important not to bother him and hugged him and gave the same orders.

Now he wanted to thank her, so he arranged for them to have a nice night, including ordering a movie she had mentioned she wished she had gotten to see in the cinema in passing. He cooked a roast, ensuring to have the trimmings and smiled at his handiwork. He asked her to be there for five, but by ten past, there was no sign of her or Lily. Worried, he tried ringing her, but her phone appeared to be dead or turned off. He then started to think of different scenarios of what caused her to not come, the most worrying of which was something had happened to herself or Lily, but with no way to contact her, he could not tell. It was almost half past, and with no sign of them, Tom felt his heart sink, he thought at first they were delayed, buses could get caught in traffic, or the Tube could get delayed if there was an issue with the signals; he had thought she would at least contact him, but she had not, he felt hurt. When his phone rang a few moments later, he just ignored it; when it rang again, he cursed and looked at the caller ID, frowning to see her name. Pressing the answer button, he brought it to his ear. ‘Lexi?’

‘Tom, I am so sorry, the Underground was insane, we were stopped between Camden and Chalk Farm for forty bloody minutes, and when I tried to contact you, I realised someone used my data allowance watching Paw Patrol on Youtube.’ His glower lifted. ‘I am so so sorry.’

‘Where are you now?’

‘Outside.’

‘What?’

‘We’re outside your door, the lights are on, but we have knocked three times.’ he rushed to the door and opened it, sure enough, there was a frustrated looking Alexianna and disheartened Lily standing there, rain pouring down. ‘Hello.’

‘Get in, I am so sorry, I did not hear you.’ He ushered them in.

‘I am sorry Tom, I...Oh, Jesus, you had something cooking and everything, I am so…’ He silenced her with a kiss.

‘I am just glad you came, I was terrified something happened one of the two of you.’ Tom took the small gym bag out of her hand and put it by the stairs.

‘No, just public transport.’ Alexianna groaned, ‘That smells incredible, by the way. And, this is for you.’ She handed him a small gift bag. ‘Since you’re finished the run.’ she smiled.

Tom frowned and opened the small bag, pulling out the contents and looking at them, his eyes widening and his smile growing. ‘Wow.’

‘I know you are busy with the Thor tour coming up, but I was hoping before you go that you would want to? I have Elaine booked and everything.’

‘That is why you asked if I was free?’ Tom realised. ‘Of course, I cannot wait.’ He kissed her again. ‘Now, dinner is not as fresh as it was but…’

‘Stop, I literally have not stopped today, we decluttered, so I am starved.’

‘“Decluttered”?’

‘Yes, someone is now too big for a lot of her clothes, and we don’t have the space to hold onto every last hole filled leggings, so we did, you know that game, “Kiss, Marry, Kill”, we played “Save, Donate, Dump.’

‘How did that go?’

‘One bag for the bin, one each to Barnardos, the Cancer Society and the R.S.P.C.A. and one shopping bag of really cute things to be vacuum packed.’

‘You keep some?’

‘Yes, just a few of her favourites or ones that mean something.’

‘Do you think you’ll ever…’ she looked at him, not having a clue as to what he was implying. ‘Have another?’

‘Child?’ Her eyes widened. ‘I don’t...probably not. I don't think I can go through all that again. She was an angel, don’t get me wrong, but it was too hard, going alone like that, Daniel was incredible, but I...no, I couldn’t.’ Tom simply nodded pensively. ‘Did I…? Do you…?’

‘I think it is safe to say, I am not near ready for that, I am too dedicated to work to be any use to a woman at present with a baby.’ he replied.

‘But down the road?’

‘I don’t know.’ he replied. ‘I can’t honestly say.’ Alexianna found herself kissing her teeth as she thought through his words. ‘Why don’t we discuss this another time?’ He placed his hand on her lower back, ‘You lovely ladies need some dinner.’ Tom looked around. ‘Where is Lily?’

‘I’m in the kitchen.’ They walked in to see her sitting at the table excitedly. ‘Mommy, look what Tom got me.’ She held up a plate similar to the one she had at home. ‘It’s the one I wanted.’

‘Wow.’ She looked at Tom, who clearly looked like he was awaiting a scolding. ‘What do you say?’

Lily jumped down from the chair and rushed over to Tom, hugging his legs tightly as she jumped up and down. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’

‘You’re welcome darling.’ She went back to the table. ‘I just got it because I didn’t want you worrying about the plates again.’ he explained quietly to Alexianna. ‘I know it was concerning you.’

Alexianna had to concede it was true, she had been terrified for Tom’s plates when they had stayed the weekend. ‘So, what’s the occasion?’

‘Well, after everything with Hamlet, and how incredibly understanding you were, I thought we would celebrate with a nice dinner, then after Lily goes to bed, you and I can settle down to watch a movie?’

‘What have you in mi?’

‘You’ll see.’ He wrapped his arms around her. ‘But first, how about some roast lamb, baby potatoes in garlic butter and perhaps even some veg?’

‘Tom!’ She looked at him, ‘There’s no need…’

‘No, there isn’t, but I wanted to.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled.

‘Now ladies, please take your seats and I will get the food.’ He winked at Lily who giggled in return as he brought Alexianna to the table. He organised everything he had readied and soon the trio were eating happily.

When they were done, Tom looked bemusedly at Alexianna, who insisted that she do the dishes since he had cooked. As soon as Lily realised Tom was in anyway unoccupied, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the living area, demanding to know about his favourite Disney characters.

‘I am not too up-to-date with so many. Why don’t you tell me?’

‘I love Moana.’

‘I like Maui.’ Tom smiled.

‘And HeiHei, he’s hilarious.’

‘He is.’ Tom chuckled.

‘I like Judy Hopps too, she’s a rabbit.’

‘The first ever bunny cop.’ Tom nodded.

Lily beamed in delight at his knowing it. ‘Yep, and Big Hero 6, Baymax is the best.’

‘I have not seen that one.’ he acknowledged. ‘My favourite is Baloo.’ Lily frowned. ‘You don’t know Baloo?’ She shook her head. He rose from his chair and went over to a cupboard and took out a DVD, bringing it back to the couch and showing it to her. ‘Have you not seen this?’

Lily inspected it and shook her head. ‘I have seen that teddy.’

‘That is Baloo.’ Tom smiled. ‘Lexi, what sort of rearing are you giving this daughter of yours, she does not know who Baloo is.’ there was no response, ‘Lexi?’ he walked into the kitchen to see Alexianna looking at him sadly. ‘Lexi, what’s wrong?’

‘I could never watch that movie after…’

‘After what?’

‘I grew up, I stopped seeing you. It literally is the one thing that as soon as I saw anything to do with it, I thought of you.’

‘Was that so bad, thinking of me?’

‘It hurt, I always felt saddened by not seeing you and Emma anymore.’

‘Well, that has been mended.’ He smiled. ‘I know she usually goes to bed at half seven, but I was going to ask, could we perhaps delay bedtime for…’ he checked his watch, then the back of the DVD cover, ‘about twenty minutes, I wish to educate Lily on the Jungle Book?’

‘I suppose once won’t hurt.’

‘Leave the dishes, join us.’ He encouraged, his arms snaking around her waist, ‘they can wait.’ his nose rubbed against the side of hers as his breath ghosted the side of her face.

Alexianna sighed, caught in the moment, the smell of his cologne and the fact that he seemed to know every way to drive her insane. ‘Lily....’

‘Come in and keep her company, and me.’

‘Is this the movie you had planned?’

‘No, actually, but it is a very good one.’ Tom chuckled, continuing to somehow use his nose as a way to seduce her, simply by running it next to or over hers. He kissed her slowly and chastely; when he pulled away, she nipped his bottom lip. ‘Lexi.’ He warned though there was a difference in his tone, lust or some other such thing.

‘Later.’ she smiled, causing Tom to look at her startled. ‘Or am I…?’ She asked worriedly.

‘No, Jesus, no. I am more than willing if you are, I just am somewhat startled you said that. I thought it would take longer to get you confident enough to do so.’

‘It was really good, when we…’ she leant in again and kissed him.

‘This is going to be a very long film.’ Tom groaned as he felt his body reacting.

They watched the film in relative silence, Tom interrupting to sing the Bare Necessities and Lily giggling whenever something was funny. By the end, Bagera gained a new lover.

‘Why him, he is so boring?’ Tom jokingly asked Lily.

‘Cause he’s asponsible. He looks after Mowgli without being silly.’

‘Wait, is your four year old actually choosing the adult and more responsible character?’ Tom asked Alexianna in awe.

‘It would appear so.’

‘She is your daughter, there was no mistake in that hospital, she is definitely your daughter.’ Tom laughed.

‘Hey…’

‘Lexi, I love you, but what used you say about Bagera, that he was “the voice of reason and the only adult in the situation”.’

‘He was, he still is.’

'And that is your daughter’s analysis too, I am telling you, you Hughes women are a lot alike.’

Alexianna smiled at him. ‘Lil, time for bed.’

‘Will you read me the Gruffalo?’

‘Of course.’

‘Actually, Mommy, can Tom read it?’

Alexianna stood staring at her daughter. ‘Lily Darling, that is something for you and your mum, and I don’t know the words.’

‘I brought my book, please Tom.’ She begged.

Tom, not used to glistening tear-filled eyes begging him, looking to Alexianna for assistance. Alexianna just looked at him to gauge his reaction. ‘Sweetie, Tom probably…’ Lily began to sniff as tears fell from her eyes. ‘You don’t get anything for crying Lily.’

‘But I want Tom to read to me, please Mummy.’

Alexianna looked to Tom again, noting the small smile on his face at being asked for. She silently asked him if it was alright, to which he nodded and she smiled defeatedly. ‘Fine, clearly I am not good enough anymore.’ She stated dramatically, earning a laugh from Lily. ‘Go, abandon me.’

‘No Mommy, I love you too.’

‘No, it’s fine, I’ll just have to get over it.’ She held her hand up like a damsel in distress. Lily giggled again. ‘Do I at least get a cuddle goodnight?’

‘Yes, Mommy.’ She rushed into her mother for a hug. ‘Sleep tight.’ She kissed Lily’s head.

‘Are you sleeping in with Tom tonight?’ She asked innocently.

‘I don’t know.’ Alexianna swallowed at that, not sure how to deal with her daughter’s questions on the matter.

‘So I don’t get the bed to myself?’ She frowned.

‘Do you want it?’ Lily nodded. ‘Well I am really been kicked out today, aren’t I? Go on, you better let Tom read to you.’ She instructed the pair to go upstairs.

After a few minutes, she went to the base of the stairs after hearing a high pitched noise from upstairs. Listening, she could hear Tom using his skills to bring the characters to life and Lily’s joy at it. Smiling, she finished the dishes. As she left the plate to drain on the draining board, she felt Tom’s hands on her sides.

‘Are you upset?’

‘A little, I have never had to share my daughter before. Daniel was never asked to read over me.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not, as long as you are okay with it.’ she turned and looked at him. ‘I don’t want her to be too much for you, it’s not fair on you.’

‘I actually loved it.’ He admitted. ‘I...I have never realised what it is like to be wanted, but not as I usually am.’ Alexianna frowned. ‘People want photos, autographs and other things from me all the time, you and Lily want nothing of me, and Lily innocently sees nothing but me.’

‘We care about you Tom, you, not the fame or the money. I love how you make me laugh and smile, you make me feel like I can do things I have been terrified to do for so long again.’

‘You wish I didn’t have the money?’

‘No, I am delighted you have the money, you work so hard at your craft, the least that can happen is you are paid well for it.’ Alexianna commented. ‘I am so happy you made it.’ She gave a genuine smile. ‘You deserve it.’

Tom kissed her. ‘I have a present for you.’ Alexianna frowned at him. ‘I planned on giving it to you later, but I think now is the time.’ He walked over to another part of the counter and grabbed a white A4 envelope before handing it to her. Alexianna just stared at it. ‘Open it.’

Still unsure, Alexianna did as he requested, worried by the odd look on his face, a mixture of fear and excitement. She took out the papers, her eyes immediately drawn to the names boldly declaring themselves on the top of the paper before looking down. As soon as she realised what it was she was holding, a sob escaped her, her hand went her mouth and she began to shake violently as tears fell from her eyes fast and heavy.

‘Lexi?’ Tom put his hands around her. He expected many reactions, but sobbing was not one of them, she began to shake more, bent over as she shook from the crying. ‘Lexi, are you alright?’ When she tried to stand straight again, Tom felt almost scared when he realised that her shaking was not from crying, but because she was smiling and giggling like a mad person. ‘Lexi?’

‘I’m free.’ She giggled between the tears. ‘He’s gone, he’s really really gone.’

Tom swallowed at her words, she was so relieved, she was unable to contain her at it. ‘Yes, Darling, you are divorced.’ she erupted in fresh giggles. ‘He cannot come after you. You didn’t have to sign his papers and you don’t have to leave him near Lily, you are free, both of you are.’

‘Thank you.’ She sobbed as she hugged him, her grip akin to a vice. ‘Thank you so much, Tom.’

Tom hugged her close to him. ‘The least I could do,’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Just promise me you will not let him hurt you anymore. If you hear any more from him, tell me.’

‘I promise.’

‘So, was that a nice surprise for the evening?’

Alexianna looked at him in shock, ‘Wait, you did all this for…?’

‘I thought it would be nice, dinner, divorce, a movie.’ Tom smiled cheekily.

Alexianna giggled. ‘The best kind of evening. Thank you, Tom, you shouldn’t have.’ She curled in against him, inhaling deeply.

‘What are you doing?’ Tom chuckled looking down at her.

‘I love your smell.’

‘You are making me really self-conscious.’ He chuckled. ‘Now, about this movie?’

‘What one is it?’

He grinned widely at her. ‘Guess what movie you wanted to watch but did not get to see is booked on my Sky Box.’

‘What...it’s not on DVD yet.’

‘Nope, but it is on Sky Box Office.’

‘Tom...this is too much.’

Tom erupted in laughter. ‘You are going out with an actor and you see dinner and a movie in his home as “too much” God Lexi, you are incredible.’ He kissed her.

#Life is a Game of Risks #chapter 25 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

9 notes · View notes

brokemultidotexe · 6 years ago

Text

Carry You Home Pt.2 | JJK

↬ Pairing: Jungkook x OC [Dami]

↬ Summary: When Jungkook took a job in Syria to be a diplomat’s detail, he didn’t expect to be assigned to her daughter, and he didn’t expect to get along with her daughter so well. During an outing, Dami is taken and Jungkook doesn’t know why or by who. Jungkook knows time is of the essence so he enlists the help of some friends with the right type of skills and does anything and everything he can to bring her home because it’s no longer about his job…it’s personal.

↬ Word Count: 3k

↬ Warning/Rating: Violence | [M]

↬ Genre: Action/Angst

↬ Part: 1 | 2

Jungkook had walked into Yoongi’s house without knocking and walked through the living room back to the computer room where he hoped Yoongi would be. “Before you ask, no her cell phone hasn’t come back on but I am currently trying to see if I can position SM’s satellite and hopefully be able to use it as a google maps type thing. The bad news is that the most we will probably get is heat signatures.” He spun back around and clicked around on his screen.

“We’re in the middle of a fucking desert Yoongi, what the hell is a heat signature going to tell us!?” His voice was rising despite him doing his best to try and keep himself level headed.

“Hey!” he turned and snapped at him. “I get your stressed but you’re not going to turn into an asshole. Did you forget how many times I was able to lead you out of shitty situations with next to nothing? And not that it matters, but the reason it will work is that it gets a lot cooler in the evenings which will show heat signatures if they aren’t in town and did, in fact, start driving off-road.”

Jungkook tugged at his hair, “I need to find her Yoongi.”

“I know that Jungkook but yo-”

“No, you don’t understand! There is so much shit you don’t know about, that I can’t tell you. I need to find her in the next 24 hours Yoongi, or this could get even worse. I don’t have the networking here that I do in the states. The fewer people know, the better. But I’m almost positive this goes up higher than a pissed off terrorist group with some agenda. Jason was with her when they took her. He pushed her into the van. This is so much more…tell me I’m wrong!” Jungkook was thinking about every possible scenario she could be in and it was driving him into a panic.

It was quiet between them, “Alright, let me call Jimin and Namjoon. Between the three of us and the contacts we have, we’re bound to find something. Just go sit down and let me do what I do.”

Jungkook nodded and pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts hoping that maybe he could think of someone who he could trust to help them. But after thinking about it for a moment he wanted to keep the circle as tight as possible so he put his phone back in his pocket and sat down on a chair in the living room. He pressed the palm of his hands into his eyes and started going through earlier today and trying to figure out if maybe he caught something that could give him answers. The human brain takes in so much information at one time that it makes it easy to miss something. Jungkook had learned this process while working in Afghanistan and he was his platoon leader and had to be the one to debrief and give his superiors all the information from missions.

So Jungkook was running the morning with Dami in his mind, seconds at a time. From the time they left the house to the point of him pulling into Yoongi’s driveway. His mind derailed when he thought about how much she had smiled this morning and how happy she was. The fact she made him laugh and the suffocation of guilt for letting Jason anywhere near her. He felt the anger rise with the guilt. If he ever got his hands on Jason he would be the last thing that piece of shit saw.

Dami’s head hurt and the sides of her mouth hurt, they felt raw. She blinked a few times trying to get her eyes to focus. She felt her body jostle and she noticed she couldn’t use her hands to brace herself from rolling. It was then that she noticed the fabric tied around her mouth and something that was holding her hands together behind her. She did her best to sit upright.

“Good, you’re up. How’s your head?” Jason grimaced. “Things didn’t exactly work out the way they were supposed to. I honestly didn’t think you’d fight back like you did.” He reached over and tried to tuck the hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear. Dami pulled back at his touch.

Dami’s eyes were taking in her surroundings. She was in a van that looked to be gutted without any seats in the back. The only seats were the driver and passenger seats, which both were occupied. Her confusion turned to anger as the memories slowly came back to how she got here.

Dami went to ask a question but it was muffled and the material rubbed at the sides of her mouth. “If I take the gag off are you going to scream or cause issues?”

Dami shook her head. He leaned on his knees and pulled the gag down so the material hung around her neck. She stretched out her jaw and licked her lips, “You kidnapped me?” her voice was barely audible as she looked at him.

“I don’t think I would consider this kidnapping per say.” Jason said offhandedly.

“You took me against my will, Jason. Are you joking?” she asked incredulously. She knew losing her cool on him was the last thing she needed to do. Dami had made fun of Jungkook when he made her sit down and listen on what to do if she was ever taken. She thought he was being overly dramatic the last few weeks, but she had never been more grateful. Comply, Compare, and Contact. The three C’s that Jungkook had drilled into her. It was one of the only reasons she seemed so calm. But she was terrified on the inside.

“I haven’t hurt you. I still care about you Dami.” His voice was soft. All she wanted to do was head-butt him in the face, but knew that following through would be an awful idea.

“If you care about me, then let me go. I don’t know what all of this is about, but I have nothing to do with it.” She glanced from him to the people in the front.

“You have everything to do with it. The United States government refuses to listen, so we’re going to force them. It’s much easier to take the child of a diplomat than the diplomat themselves. What we had was real I don’t want you to think that I only used you Dami.”

Dami shook her head, her hands started to shake. This was truly happening and she was terrified. Her mind went through everything Jungkook had taught her. There was some comfort that he did show her how to get out of zip ties if she was ever in that situation. At the time it was just something to do to pass the time while they waited on her mother, but now she needed to apply it to real life. She took a shaky breath and just looked at the ground. She needed to get her thoughts in order and start following Jungkook’s three C’s. For now, she needed to comply.

Jungkook had been banished from Yoongi’s computer room after interrupting him for the sixth time. Jimin was now sitting with him out in the living room. Jimin had served with Jungkook and both had decided to take positions at the same place. The pay was great and it helped to have a friend.

“I know you’ve probably done this already but can you describe anything about them? The vehicle, the people, anything?” Jimin was looking at Jungkook intently. Both had switched into the marines they had been a few years ago. They were already planning and trying to network. They had already moved into the gray area of the law, but not enough to get flagged by anyone.

“Blue van. The paint was chipping and faded. The side mirror had duct tape on it. The driver had on a brown shirt, I think, the guy pulling her in was wearing a blue shirt but I couldn’t really see his face. It shouldn’t be hard to figure him out, I shot his hand. I don’t know how bad it is but I heard him yell out in pain and I saw some blood. Then there’s Jason, he’s wearing Jeans, with a plain white t-shirt and a button down. It was light blue and dark blue plaid.” Jungkook looked over at Jimin, “That’s all I can remember. I keep going through everything again but that’s the most I can come up with.”

Jimin had always been in awe of Jungkook’s ability to recall situations and surroundings when something would happen too quickly for most to even process a single detail. It was times like this where they truly benefited from it. “Can you remember seeing that van any other time you’ve gone out with Dami?”

“No, Minseo hasn’t let Dami go out in a while, at least not into town. There has been serious tension with the Syrian government and Minseo felt it was enough to warrant keeping everyone at home when possible.” Jungkook was beating himself up for letting them walk ahead. He knew he shouldn’t do it, but he had let the wishes of Dami trump his training and better judgment. In his moment of trying to make Dami just a little happier about being able to leave the house, he put her in harm’s way and now he had no idea where she was.

“What about her and Jason. Did they have a fight recently? Do you think this could be something as stupid as jealousy or irrational behavior and he’s just trying to scare her?”

Jungkook groaned in frustration, “Not that I know of, but I wasn’t exactly her confidant in her love life. She knew I couldn’t stand Jason. We had a huge argument about it a few months ago and after a few days of her not talking to me I told her I wouldn’t talk about it anymore and I’d keep my mouth shut. So even if something did happen between them, I wouldn’t know about it.”

Jimin nodded, “Okay, then let’s start there. We both know that it’s probably not that, but while Yoongi and Namjoon work their magic it gives you something to do. We can go back to her house and take a look around. We can take the back entrance so the Yeo’s don’t know.”

Jungkook nodded, “Okay, let me just check with Yoongi before we go.”

“Dude.” Jimin warned standing up with him, “You’re gonna get banned from the house.”

“I just wanna check progress before we go, that’s it.” He raised his hands in defense.

“Then I’ll talk to Namjoon,” Jimin said just about a whisper as they walked towards Yoongi’s kitchen which was where Namjoon had set up shop. He put his hands on boys shoulders. “Hey.”

Namjoon didn’t look up from his computer, “Hey.”

Jimin’s face contorted into confusion, “What is that?”

It was like Namjoon had just realized that they were in the kitchen with him, “Oh. Umm, I’m currently searching through all the radio waves that are around the area we think they may have driven towards. We aren’t sure if they’re even using radios or if it’s only those few guys, but it would let us pinpoint where they are within a ten square mile area.” Namjoon’s concentration never broke from his task.

“We’re gonna go search Dami’s room if anyone finds anything just call one of us.” Jimin motioned for Jungkook to follow him out the back door

“You guys be safe.” Namjoon’s eyes left the monitor for a split second to look at both of them.

“Of course, now nerd out.” Jimin jutted his chin to the computer and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

They both climbed in Jimin’s car and it didn’t take long to get to Dami’s house. Jungkook leaned over when Jimin pulled up and handed his badge along with Jimin’s military ID, “Hey Jongdae.” The guard looked at the badge and handed it back and tilted his head letting them through. Jungkook directed Jimin to park at the back of the house. They made their way through the house as quietly as possible. They would walk by some of their staff a few times before they had made it upstairs and inside Dami’s room. Jungkook made sure to close the door behind them.

Jungkook went straight towards her bedside table and opened the drawer, “She keeps shit everywhere so you’ll probably find random shit in weird places. There’s art stuff everywhere so don’t mess with it or she’ll have my head.” He talked as if there was no chance that he wouldn’t get her back. Jungkook pulled out the notebook he’d been looking for. He felt so awful and wrong breaking her privacy by reading her journal but he didn’t know how else to find out what was happening and if she and Jason had been fighting. He did his best to just skim the pages instead of reading every detail, partly because of time and partly so he wasn’t completely taking away her privacy. His eyes stopped at Jason’s name and made sure to fully read the entry.

I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’ve been stuck in this house for far too long and Jason came over today to spend time together since my mother has lost her mind. Sometimes I don’t feel like he’s truly into me because I won’t instantly open my legs for him. I mean we’ve done other stuff, but I don’t trust him fully. He tried pushing me farther than I was comfortable with. My first reaction was to talk to Jungkook about it and get his opinion, he doesn’t like Jason and I think I’m starting to see it myself. I wish I could go to him about this and it not cross a line. We agreed to not discuss Jason, and I didn’t want to break that so I’m going to try and navigate this myself. But if he keeps pushing me I think I may need to tell Jungkook because I know Jungkook would protect me.

The emotions were so overwhelming. The anger at Jason for pushing her when she didn’t want to have sex. The sadness that she felt she couldn’t come to him about that as well as a small bit of jealousy that he wasn’t sure about. He knows it would have been weird for a few minutes but he would have talked to her, he would have been honest. But lastly the guilt, she knew he would protect her. It didn’t matter what it was about she trusted him and he had failed her. He closed the journal and slid it in his back pocket and told himself it was for research purposes only.

“Hey JK, I think you should look at this.” Jimin pulled a photo from a cork board and handed it to him. It was a picture of Dami and Jason standing on top of a small mountain and he could see something farther in the background. It was a long shot but if they had visited it before, he may take her there to make her feel a sense of safety. It wasn’t uncommon in this type of situation since they had a relationship beforehand.

“Let’s get this to Yoongi. It may not be anything but if they’ve visited there before they could possibly go back. It seems secluded enough.” he slid it in his pocket paired with the journal from before.

“I agree. I’m gonna grab this sketchbook from her bed and bring it back. A quick flip through showed some landscapes so maybe she’s drawn where she’s at before.”

“No.” Jungkook’s voice was firm.

Jimin’s eyebrows shot up, “Why? It’s just a sketchbook.”

“Because you don’t know her. That sketchbook is even worse than me scanning through her journal. That’s the window to her soul, or at least that’s what she tells me. I gave her that for her birthday. She would never forgive me.”

“I’m pretty sure she would give you a pass if it saves her Jungkook. You need to get past your relationship with her and start thinking critically. This is the time to think with your head, not your heart.” He took a step towards him. “Jungkook, never in our friendship have I pulled rank on you but if you want to find her you need to get past breaking her privacy, because if you don’t there may not be any privacy to break.” It was harsh and Jimin knew it but his best friend was so far deep into his self-loathing mind that he was trying to do everything he could to make sure she would forgive him when he got her back.

“Alright, grab it. Let’s get this stuff back to Yoongi’s.”

AN: unfortunately, I needed to repost this because my dumbass deleted the original post, but I’m creating a tag list for this since its impossible for everyone to find it on their dash apparently. If this works well then I may do this for my other fics as well.

Tag Me!

10 notes · View notes