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husbandohunter · 3 years

Note

Dottore with short drabble “You only ever brought me pain and I’m sick of it.”

Something angsty pls? Thank you!

Tainted Glass [Dottore x Reader/Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: Can you escape the prison you made?

(A twisted Cinderella story. The girl was covered in cinders because she was fatally addicted to drowning in flames.)

Warnings: angst, emotional abuse, violence, death

(A/n): To be honest anon, I didn’t know what the word ‘drabble’ means until I googled it. I uh...hope you don’t mind the length :>

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

You fell back against the cold hard floor with your arms bent and head turned sideways. The stinging pain spreads across your cheek. It burns. But your mind was still trying to register what had just came into fruition.

Why?

The thought was so foreign somehow as if you could hardly believe he was doing this. But then the scene plays in your head again. You froze, your gaze enlarged and clueless while staring at the pale ground as it slowly begins to darken in the seeping movement of his menacing, haunting shadow.

"Insolent woman, you wretch!" He spat in a disgusted tone, "How dare you speak to me in such demanding manner? Have I already told you, only talk when you have something important to say?"

You didn't respond, rather you merely let the strands fall in front of your vision as you gingerly pressed your hand against the place where he hit you.

I…don't quite understand…

Dottore glowers down at your hunched form. He was never a man known for the virtue of patience. This man, the one who calls him your husband, you learned a long time ago to not meet his eyes as they would signal a hint of dominance amidst his authority, especially during moments like these. You came to feel his eyes instead, they were usually intense and full of wrath, sometimes crazed and curious while looking at his finest creations. He always loved experimenting in his labratory. After all, it was the only thing that could truly make the madman smile.

What is it that I'm missing? Where did I go wrong?

And you would do anything to obtain at least a fraction of the love he had left in his heart.

He marches onward with heavy footsteps, paying no mind to your well-being, "Tch get out of my sight. I don't have the time to entertain with anymore these theatrics."

At the sound of him leaving you darted your attention towards him, "Wait, come back. Come back, " you plea softly, "Hector…" But he ignores your call. The back of your fiance disappears behind the door and slams it with a resounding thud. He was gone. You couldn't save him.

"No," As a result, you burried your face into your palms and cried.

“I'm sorry.”

…

What is love?

Being raised in one of the most prestigious bloodlines of Fontaine, a life filled with riches since your parents were well known scholars throughout Teyvat, they provided you and your family with everything you needed. From exquisite dishes to priceless jewelry, yet even among those riches you never did find an answer to your question. They were tangibles and short-lasting, eventually leaving you with nothing until the glass of your heart was filled empty. They seemed to have cared more about their fortune along with the brightest child of their family line, your brother, a male heir, someone who fulfilled their expectations where you couldn't do so. And because he was able to give them what they wanted, he was loved.

I see, love is conditional.

Realizing that you possessed no talent to achieve what your brother had accomplished, you came to accept that you were undeserving of their love. Love was for the smart. Love was for the gifted. Love was for everything you are not. There was no place for your kind and thus you locked yourself up in your bedroom chambers along with your fragile heart where no one would try to find you, picking up the books upon the shelves and getting lost in their fantasies.

They told you many beautiful things about the world and many reasons why it was so tragic. Because they weren't real. The story begins with a princess who was a kind-hearted soul, deprived from the care of her evil stepmother and dreams of marrying a prince from a land far far away. They often end on a happily ever after with the princes finding her one true love. You've never seen anything like it. Where two people, despite the struggles they went through, loved each other unconditionally.

Unconditional love only exists in dreams.

Or so you thought to believe.

One day a man marched right at the doorsteps of your mansion. He was a student coming all the way from Sumeru Academia and had high hopes of building a business partnership with your father. The man was declined of course, you watched from the garden bushes as he was sent off back into his carriage. He stops abruptly and turns his head ajar to catch your figure, his inquisitive eyes were both striking and sharp. Like thorns of a rose that was ready to prick anyone who dares to come close. Even so, they made a very lasting impression.

Red eyes.

It was the first time that someone had looked your way.

Couple of months later, the government had arranged a grand ball where all nobles would gather and commit to building their social circle. Useless events. There was no reason for you to engage. While your parents were occupied with the latest gossips and your brother surrounded by fathers who were eager to marry their daughters to him, you snuck outside to the balcony and hid away from the crowd. Quiet at last. And as things should be. The moon was your only friend because she was just like you; half empty. Maybe that was why you still had a glimmer of hope for the other half to be filled.

Part white, you inquired, pristine and untainted. From far away it looked similar to snow.

"My, how pleasantly surprising."

While the other part was stained with black cinders.

You glanced over your shoulder to see a man leaning against the pillar. His mint coloured bangs were slicked back in a trendy fashion, complimenting the white suit he adorned himself with. The golden chains hanging around his ebony boots dangled and clanged with each step he took forward until the light finally reveals his face.

"You seem familiar," you say while squinting your eyes, "Are you the person my father rejected back in February?"

He quirks one brow and you were afraid if you had offended him. But before you could utter an apology, the man splits his lips into a toothy grin and bursts out into a maniac-like laughter. He was completely insane, you thought to yourself. Though he paid no mind to your discomfort and continued to dwell in his amusement, "Hahaha straightforward, I like it! So what if I am? Is it a requirement to be a noble for me to simply have a chat?"

"And if I may ask why?"

"Hmmm, why?" The man reaches for the balcony and presses his back there. He threw his head backward before drilling his ruby gaze into yours, "I too am not fond of annoying crowds. Those snobbish fools thinking they're above everyone else just because they have a couple of mora when that is all they are worth. It's almost too hilarious for my own good."

You could tell there was disdain in his tone. Mainly towards your father who were one of the many unkind nobles of Fontaine and was only liked because of his success. Gripping your hands upon the stone railings, you looked down at the distant trees below while the wind rustled them apart, "I can't deny that," you say dissapointedly, "It's common for nobles not to associate with lower classes as it could potentially ruin their image. Though I may not have been there but I'm sure you had much to offer in terms of your brilliance, erm, Mister…?"

"Hector," Hector placed a palm on his chest with a polite bow following suit, "Hector Dufour-Lapointé. It is a pleasure to make you an acquaintance Lady (Y/n)."

"You know my name?"

"How could I not?" Hector smirks lazily as he danced around you, "I saw you before hiding behind the rose bushes back in your estate. Quite curious why you didn't attempt to say hello."

He even remembers that too. You fiddled with the fabric of your dress, "My apologies. I'm not use to socializing so much."

“Is that so? I think you're not giving yourself enough credit," he complimented while shrugging, "This is much more entertaining than hanging in that insufferably crowded room, it was an unexpected occurence to meet you here of all places. However, I must say time can fly if I'm able to enjoy myself."

You shifted away from his stare, "You flatter me. We've only been talking for a few minutes."

"I have yet to realize it then" Hector's cheerfulness remains at stance despite your gloomy response. He leans forward like a curious child and tosses you a question, "Then allow me to ask, what brings you out here Lady (Y/n)? I don't see any reason when your family are such highly respected people of Fontaine."

"I'm not like them!" You retort instantly, causing the man to glance at you with skepticism, "I mean, I have nothing to do with them and they have nothing to do with me. That's just how it is. They already have Clement after all…"

Why am I telling him this?

"Ah your brother I assume. Yes so I've heard much about his genius mind. There were a few instances where he and I collaborated at Sumeru Academia," Hector speaks as if regarding to his unpleasant memories, "Although he never said anything about having a sister."

"We're not that close. And I'm not very fond of him," you confessed bluntly.

"Neither am I," Hector agreed with a scowl, "He claims his position using the knowledge derived from history books but never tries to think beyond the norm. That ignorant mindset of his will surely be his downfall one day."

"Ignorance can lead to anyone's downfall. If they turn a blind eye to the truth, so much can be taken from them," you paused shortly from rambling too much, "That's what I read in books at least."

"As expected of your lineage," he sighs whimsically, "Such avid readers."

"Well my family prefers documents and research. I've gone through them too but I will always love reading fiction."

"Ha! Seems you really are trying to be different from the rest of your family."

Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, you had already forgotten about the cold breeze despite your dress being less than ideal for the outdoors. The man, although he can be a little to blathering at times, was more than what seemed to be on the surface. At first you thought of him as someone here to take advantage of your relations to your father but he seemed so sincere when listening to your stories, so eager while expressing his thoughts and even made you laugh a couple of times. You didn't realize that the clock had already struck twelve as the guests were preparing to leave but you just weren't ready to do the same.

"Until next time (Y/n)," he takes your fingers and pressed a kiss on top of them, though you were more struck by how he addressed you without honorifics, "I look forward to speaking with you again."

A warm smile graces your lips as you cursty, "Likewise Hector. Thank you for listening to me. I know I must have taken a long time."

Hector sneered but you already learned that it was simply his way of expressing amusement, "Hardly. I was thoroughly entertained."

When your parents found out about your meeting with him, they made it clear that you would never see him again. Hector Dufour-Lapointé is what he calls himself but the real name behind this man was Hector Valliere who came from a village hidden in the west of Fontaine. Rumours said that he was chased out of his hometown by an angry mob, claiming him to be a madman conducting unethical experiments on humans. Shortly after his arrival in Sumeru, he abandoned his past identity and replaced it with a new one in order to enter the academy under legal supervision. Associating with a man of a suspicious reputation would only cause harm to your family's name. Though you could barely care much about their reputation. There was nothing for you to benefit from it.

Few weeks have passed and you evetually gave up on the thought of hearing from Hector. They were only fleeting moments, nothing more. Your routine would stay the same as you kept on plucking more books off the shelves, killing whatever time you had. However the activities you used to enjoy somehow lost it's flair and there would be a slight pain in your chest whenever you turn to a page with the princess as she is surrounded by her friends. What exactly changed? Your family still treated you the same. Did you suddenly grow bored from doing the same thing everyday? Why is it that you feel much more lonelier despite being alone for so long? It was hard to tell in a singular perspective. If only there was someone here to give you some insights on things you couldn't see…

A silver bird lands by your front window and you nearly fell out of your chair as it flapped their wings violently. A machine?! They dropped what seems to be an envelope within the thick bushes before taking off and buzzing into the evening sky. You switched off the lock and lifted the glass within a single movement, snatching the piece of paper so that the wind wouldn't blow it away. Hastily you opened it. Both curious and cautious of why would anyone send you mail in such a discreet approach.

Chère Mademoiselle (Y/n),

I can only imagine the shock of your expression once reading this letter. I'm only writing to you since I assume that your father had already told you those nasty rumours about my past. No matter. I trust that you have a good head on your shoulders to not prejudge people using such miniscule details. I wish to speak with you again. Unless you have other plans staying in that stuffy room of yours, meet me behind the clock tower at 11:00 p.m. Don't be late.

Bien à vous,

"It really is him!" The happiness spreads all across your features as you clutched the letter to your chest. For some reason, your heart wouldn't stop racing. It was a simple yet thoughful action on his part but despite how short his greeting was, every word held the weight of a thousand sparks, "I…I can't stop smiling."

And without hesitation, you prepared to leave. No one noticed your absence.

-------

It was only halfway where you realized that Hector didn't give many details redgarding why he planned this sudden event. You caught sight of him standing under the roofs with his hands hidden behind his back. He had on his signature lopsided grin, brows uneven as he glanced at you casually.

"How very punctual, were you so eager that you couldn't wait?" He teases.

"I was surprised when your bird knocked upon my window," you inform, "Is it something urgent?"

"Not at all. I merely wanted to catch up with old times," Hector tilts forward to emphasize his suggestion, "Care to indulge me for a bit?"

You crossed your arms, "Then what is it that you're hiding behind your back?"

"Hmm?" He hums, "You mean this?"

"Ah!"

Roses. A bouquet of bright red flowers were presented to you, nicely wrapped in fabric. In the language of Fontaine, recieving them could mean multiple of things and you couldn't help but feel hesitant despite his thoughtful gesture, "Why are you giving me this?"

"Is it so wrong for me to be a gentleman? I thought it would be best to prepare you a gift after you put all that effort to come out in such a late hour," Hector mused to himself, "Especially when you had to make sure no prying eyes would catch us."

You let out a small laugh before accepting the bouquet, "I wouldn't go as far to say that."

"Oh?" Although it was hard to see, Hector managed to catch a glimpse of your flushed cheeks hidden behind the flowers. A darken smirk climbs onto his face at the inviting thought of what it could mean, "Tell me more."

The whole night you both spent walking around the empty plaza with only the stars as your guide. They paved a silver path reflected in the horizon above, free flowing like one of the many watercolour paintings hung in your chambers, uncertain where they may lead but you followed them regardless. If it weren't for Hector's inivtation you might have never known about the parts of your city due to the restricted lifestyle you lived. He listened to every one of them. The stories you had to tell when there was no one for you to talk to and the complaints about your brother whenever he wanted to snitch on your actions just to get the praise out of your father. You expressed your frustrations when speaking about your incompetences, joy after reading a good fairytale book written by your favourite author, there was so much to say that you were worried if Hector soon grew tired from them.

"Go on. I'm listening."

And your heart flutters again. Suddenly everything felt so light with each step you took, it was as if you walked across the stars in the sky rather than the heavy pavement of the ground you called your home. But even if happiness was a bliss, it tormented you. Because companionship made you realize how poor your were all along. That you had everything yet you had nothing, slowly withering away like the roses you held in your hand. Convinced that your existence was worth nothing more than nothing itself. Doomed to be dismissed and forgotten. Rotting away...Hector stays by your side as you cried softly into the night.

From a distance the bell rings and echoes just like the time before during Fontaine's grand ball. Hector shows you a secret route so that no one could find you.

"Will you write to me again?"

The request was so innocent, purely from genuine intentions and devoided of anything he had in mind. Hector would always laugh in these situations when things have gone unexpectedly yet pleasingly his way but held back knowing that it would be foolish to waste such a priceless opportunity. And so he gave you his smile, one full of secrets where you had mistakened it as a promise, "Of course my dear."

Every night you could no longer fall asleep since he had occupied your thoughts completely. Sometimes you'd dream of him and their tales would unfold similarly to the ones you have read. It gone to the point where the maids would have to wake you up during late afternoons due to the dramatic change in your sleep schedule. Though, you didn't care what they did to you. As long as no one found out about your secret rendezvous.

You never thought that there'd be a day where you would voluntarily give up reading your beloved fairytales. They were now replaced by a stash of his letters that have been accumulated over the past few months. You read them each day, pacing back and forth within the walls of your room, whispering his sentences as if he were the one saying them to you. He made you feel special. You were addicted to this feeling. Eventually you managed to memorize his words by heart.

The pages of your diary were filled with notes. Like your very own fairytale carved into reality. From the rose petal, now dried, to the hairpin he snatched from a distracted merchant and a single strand of his hair you found within your cloak after a warm embrace, all of these items, a remnant of the man you loved were taped up in these pages. Sometimes you could even feel his prescence because it was all you needed. It didn't matter if Clement threw insults about how worthless your existence was, your parents could lock you in this prison if they wanted to but they shall never take away Hector from you. Never. You swear it. He was your whole world and the prince who saved you from a life made of aching emptiness. You would do anything to keep him by your side. Anything to gain his affection.

Anything.

"I had a feeling that you were the culprit dear sister."

Your arms stutters as they clutched tightly on the scrolls you took off from the shelves. The light crept into the room like arms reaching out to clutch around your ankles, warning you for trespassing. You turned around dreadfully to see Clement pressing his shoulder against the doorframe with his arms folded and a wicked expression aimed at your pitiful state.

"Why…Why are you still awake?" You say in disbelief, "I thought everyone was asleep."

"Please. Not only are you shameless but hypocritical as well. You truly are a dissapointment to our family."

"Wait," taking a step forward, you stopped him before he makes his exit, "I'll put them back. Just don't tell father about this."

But like your parents, your brother was unkind. Clement doubles over and hugs his torso, cackling through his teeth, "Is that how it is?" He swipes his arm up and you see a parchment paper held between his fingers.

"No!"

"Ma chérie (Y/n). I must say all this tenacious effort of sneaking in my letters to your window is becoming more and more tiresome. But of course, you are an exception. I want the scrolls you've mentioned the other day at my lair tomorrow evening. Make sure no one discovers this. I'm counting on you. Cordialement! Hector."

"No…" you whispered, feeling the weight of the world fall upon your shoulders as it shattered apart. Hector. If possible, you hoped that the pieces could just crush you right then and there. Your knees felt weak and a fright takes over but despite your turmoil, Clement didn't show a shred of sympathy.

"So this is why you've been acting odd lately. Pathetic," he flaps the paper tauntingly in his grasp, "I can't decide if I should be impressed or baffled by your actions. A secret romance with a criminal and the bloodline of Fontaine's most respected government associates? Even though you've hit rock bottom, you still decided to dig deeper."

"Clement you don't understand!" Stumbling upon your footsteps, you desperately tried to convey your predicament even if it meant feeding his ego, "Hector is not the man you think. He was shunned by the people of his hometown, treating him as if he were nothing. They…They ignored him! All this time he needed someone to recognize his brilliance, someone to understand." Shakily, you brought your tensed arms to your chest and screamed a silent whisper, "Someone to listen but no one did. He must have felt so alone…"

Clement flinches when you suddenly clutched onto his biceps. When he looked into your eyes, a shiver ran down his spine.

"Hector is counting on me. I'm the only one who can save him. No one else. He needs me Clement, he needs me!"

"Tch."

An ear-splitting scream of his hand against your face echoes across the room. It knocked you out of your stance and you bumped into the table, grunting while the scrolls to tumbled to the floor.

"Crazy woman, I'm embarassed to be related to you!"

While you were still trying to regain your balance, your brother had already ran off. It wouldn't be long before he alerted your parents, the clock ticking away like sand until the final hour leaves you with nothing but an empty glass.

"No," despair swallows the strength away from your legs and you crawled towards where he used to stand, "Don't take him away from me…I need him…"

I can't live without him.

Tears begin to form by the corners of your eyes as you clenched your teeth. This was no time to cry. Balling your fists, you sprinted out of the room, pushing whatever stood in your way as if you were running for your life.

And if you considered everything else, it wasn't that far from the truth.

-------

"Hector! Hector are you there?" After arriving upon his house, you began knocking on his door aggressively. The lock clicks and you were greeted by an evidently annoyed man gnawing his teeth together.

"Tsk. There better be a good reason-"

"They're coming for us! We have to go. Now. Before it's too late. My father is probably already waking and making arrangements for you to-"

"Enough, I can't even catch what you're saying," He pinches the bridge of his nose while you were still stuck in a frenzy state. He takes a step back and opens the door wider, gesturing for you to come inside, "Get in already. I have a feeling that this will be a long night."

Hector observes intently at the words you tell him.

Not out of concern but akin to the way he watches the insects react when he exposes them to a different environment.

He was a scientist after all. A madman in which you deliberately fell in love with, so much to the point that he was able to feel pity for once. How you trusted him wholeheartedly with all of your vulnerabilities, emotions and secrets like handing him your parts just so he could put you back together again. Tinkering was always one of his favourite hobbies and he couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride at the thought of you being completely wrapped around his finger.

Perhaps that was the reason why he loved you. Because he didn't love you. He loved you in parts.

"It was only a matter of time," Hector sighs. He sneaks his grasp into yours, knowing how much it affects you and puts on an invisible mask of deciet, "I already knew this day would happen long before anyone could have predicted it."

"You did?" With worried eyes you gazed at him, "What shall we do then?"

Knowing he hit the target, his lips begin to curl up towards his ears, showing his sharp white teeth that shone against the dim-litted room. Hector asks, "Do you love me?"

A silly question. You didn't hesitate to answer, "Of course I do. I've said it many times."

"Prove it to me," Forcing his forehead against yours, Hector commands in a dangerously low tone, "Kill your brother and only then you can truly be mine."

Your brain sutters, trying to absorb what he had just said. Kill? As in to take a life? It sounded wrong. But...was it wrong if the life belonged to someone who ruined yours?

Dumbfoundedly, you glanced into the bloody orbs of your lover, his black pupils thinning into knives while burning in the hellfire of his true colours. Hector runs a hand from the scalp of your hair, down to your cheek before gingerly sliding his fingers at your jawline. He pulled you close and whispered into your ear.

"Are you scared?"

Ah, this wasn't about your feelings. This was about him and your future and there could be no future you without him by your side.

You let your eyelids drop and leaned into his touch, "I could never be scared of you Hector. Whether it is within my power or not, I will make sure no one gets in our way. I swear it."

"Good," he continues to have you feed on his affection, "I knew I could count on you."

-----------

The news of your brother's death filled every headline Fontain had to offer. He was driven off a cliff while making a trip towards Sumeru. No one survived. The remains were so crushed to the point that authorities had trouble identifying their bodies. The only explanation they could come up with by observing the leftover tracks was that the horse must have gone out of control and ended up dragging the carriage along with it.

Ha. Serves him right.

Food poisoning. The vial Hector made was very effective. You made sure to bury it away from your mansion.

With no other choice, you became your family's next heir. Hector notifies you that he would be away for several months to solidify a unique connection with a man hailing from Snezhnaya. You didn't think he would arrive at your doorsteps with so much authority. Fatui soldiers followed from behind as the staff paved a way for them to enter. Your father was clearly displeased by his outrageous approach but he knew he was in no place to deny.

"Upon the agreement between Fontaine and Snezhnaya, Lady (Y/n) will become Harbinger Il Dottore's wife," the Duke announces, "This news will be publicly announced at the end of October."

Dottore? Is that what he calls himself?

As if claiming his victory, Dottore shoots your father a devilish smile. You could feel the dining table shake when he kept pressing his fist against the smooth surface, begrudingly congratulating you both for the new engagement. Your mother bursted into tears.

Was it worth it?

You watched both of your parents mourn silently in their own manner. Perfectly knowing that you were the main cause. But you weren't able to feel any sadness because in the end, you now had everything you've ever wanted.

The inheritance.

Their attention.

But most of all, him.

And when you were convinced that this was your happily ever after, that fairytales were not just beautiful lies for the sake of comfort, you didn't realize you were already living a life made of beautiful lies conjured by your own mind for the sake of your own comfort.

"You're nothing without me."

Dried and calloused hands squeezed around your throat as you flailed your legs against the soft fabric of the carpet floor. He encases you in a straddling position, enjoying the sight of your tortured and clenched face. Hector…no, Dottore hated it when you disobeyed him. He despised it when his creations don't work the way he wanted them to and he had no use for things that are broken.

"G-hka--k..-"

"How many times do I have to remind you to not use my birthname. Do those ears of you even function properly? Or must I fix them myself?"

You gasped for air when he relaxed his grip. Vision a blur, you coughed a few times before he pulls your arm so that you lay flushed against his chest.

"Don't forget who saved you dear (Y/n). Because of me you were able to escape that miserable life you've despised for years. I expect the utmost gratitude on your part at all times, it is only fair that I punish you for not meeting my requirements, don't you agree?" Dottore lifts his hand up to pinch your cheeks, pulling your head to stare at your eyes, "After all, there is no one else in this world who can put up with you…but me."

His words were poison in which you drank like a woman starved. It made you feel numb to the pain the more you drowned in their alluring scent, the taste was sweet, a remedy for the bitterness of reality where the man of your dreams was nothing but a cruel monster. You came to believe that the reason why he treated you so harshly was because he was scared of losing you. You were caught in the trap of what seemed to be love and devotion when truly, you were just a toy to be used at a means end. He breaks you and he puts you back together, over and over again, filling in between the cracks formed in your glass heart with the phrases you loved to hear. Just like how he filled the other holes of your life where no one else did. You called it kindness. He saw it as entertainment.

Most people pay attention to the flower's beauty but they never acknowledge the thorns hidden beneath it's blossom. That is why they bleed. They get hurt. Though, you didn't mind shedding blood if it was for his sake.

Because you would do anything for him.

You would do anything to bring back the memories of Hector Dufour-Lapointé and save him from the Harbinger that ruined his life. Your life. It wasn't his fault. You knew you could change him to what he was before because you were in love with him, that he might still in there. Somewhere.

Right?

…

Please come back.

Time continues to flow like the tears of your dying heart despite yearning for it to turn at the past. Dottore already left the room a long time ago but you didn't. Raising your head away from your hands, you peered at the door in front of you, begging desperately through a chanting record of despondence.

Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back. Come back.

Images, they slipped through your fingers, slowly becoming more distant until your mind began to see them as illusions. Dreams. Things that were not real. Telling you that your life was a lie.

"Come back to me…Hector."

Because the man you loved was withering in your memories and you couldn't do anything to save him.

A dry croak robbed you of your breath as you turned to look in the mirror.

Worthless. You were always worthless, it was what your parents told you since birth. It was what you became when he wasn't at your side because without him, your existence was worthless. You lied for him, you stole for him you, took a life for him. You destroyed yourself for him to point that it was hard to believe you were even looking at yourself.

Worthless. It's who I am.

And despite it all, you couldn't obtain his love.

(Crack).

Worthless things don’t deserved to be loved.

(Crack. Crack).

But what if it’s because I’m worthless, that he won’t love me back?

(Crack).

Your eyes jolted open, causing you to gasp sharply. When the sweet lies dispersed in your head and cleansed you of deceit, everything started to make sene. You came to realize why your wish was impossible all along.

Dottore...no, Hector, the reason wasn't because he didn't return your feelings. Neither was it due to the fact that he hurt you through his actions. Nor when he made you cry or scream for help before feeding you with more lies, thinking he would never hurt you again. It was none of those things.

It was because the man you loved this whole time was someone who could love no one but himself.

"Ha...haha," sucking in your breath, a sinister laugh escapes your mouth, "Hahahahahahaha.....!"

Everything was worthless.

You grabbed a nearby hairbrush and threw it at the mirror, watching yourself shatter into a million pieces.

There was only one thing left to do.

------

"Ugh, where is it?!"

It was late into the night where every staff had gone to sleep. The Harbinger fumbles with his keys while standing at the door of his basement as he was too busy proceeding with his research rather than considering the thought of rest. Usually he acted upon them on his own will, performing various experiments for enjoyment. However, ever since the Snezhnayan court had requested him to look into the ancient arts of alchemy, Dottore was forced to carry it out before the deadline approached. Otherwise his position as Harbinger would be revoked.

"What a bunch of self-centered blockheads. Can't they understand that it take quality time to get quality results?"

Most of his important documents were stored on the otherside. Half of it came from his father-in-law's library. He had you to thank for that.

"Ah finally," he mutters, though still dissatisfied, "I should have a word with my butler for misplacing them."

Dottore shoves the key into the lock but instead of twisting the knob he noticed something strange. It was old and had yet to be fixed but somehow he didn't have any trouble adjusting his wrist. Then he saw there were a set of freshly made fingerprints upon the smooth metallic surface. However, the only person awake at this time would be him-

An intruder!

Dottore drops everything to the ground and yanks the door open. He skittered down the stone stairs while cursing under his breath. Using the delusion gifted by the Tsaritsa, the Harbinger activated his lazer-like pillars as he took advantage of their glow to light up the unlit room.

"What in the abyss...?!"

Except it wasn't dark.

"All of these scrolls, I recognize them," without sparing a single glance, you spoke nostalgically towards the bookshelves, "It brings me so much memories..."

Dottore clenches his teeth together as his eyes shone an angry red, you were holding a torch dangerously close to his hard-earned collection, "What do you think you're doing?!" He fumed, "Put that out, AT ONCE! Don't make me repeat myself!

"They're precious to you aren't they?" You finally shifted to face him, "More than me."

"What has gotten into you?" He was about to hurl at you until he saw your torch lowering, causing him to retreat. You were strangely noncholant and he couldn't help the feeling of disturbance. Accepting that he didn't have the upperhand, Dottore decided to use a different approach, "(Y/n)."

The sound of your name falls from his lips. You faltered.

"I'm sorry for what I have done. I know I was dishonourable to you, as your husband and lover, and that you didn't deserve to see me so aggressive. You have every right to express your anger, my dear. I was in the wrong."

It was only a mask. You knew it well. But seeing him with softened eyes and a tone so comforting, made you desperately wanting to run into his arms so he could wipe away your sorrows just like once upon a time. To live happily ever after.

Hector.

Dottore runs his fingers through his hairstrands in frustration and sighs, "However the Tsarista needed me to do something very important and I can't seem to fulfill her request no matter how hard I try. It angers me. If I don't finish this, there would be no place for us to stay."

"Hector..." you sniffled quietly. He looks so much like him right now.

"Can't you see I'm doing this for you?" He consoles, yet his weapons still remain, "I only intended to make you happy and there's nothing I won't do to achieve that. How about I show-"

"Enough."

Dottore froze upon your sudden command. He didn't sense a hint of subjugation and it seemed that you had perfect control of your emotions. How very inquisitive. Did you grow immune to the style of his voice? In such a short period of time? The facade he had on was now replaced with a growling animal-like expression. You looked at him dissapointedly. His Harbinger self returned. Hector was no more.

"Ha, you're the same as always. Even before the time you became a Harbinger. The same man that I fell in love with but it is me who will never be the same again," For a moment you averted your gaze as if trying hard to swallow your own words, "Remember when we first met at the balcony? That I told you my favourite books to read are fiction? I knew they weren't real but deep down, I wanted to believe in them anyways. And you know what? They did come true, to some degree..."

As the memories come flashing back, he defenselessly watches your expression contort from sadness to a calm contemplation and finally, enraged disgust, "But you only ever brought me pain and I'm sick of it!"

Swaying the torch to the side, Dottore flinches forward but he didn't dare to come close when your current state was unpredictable to him, "I JUST WANTED YOU TO LOVE ME," you wail, I just wanted to be loved, bringing a clawed hand against your forehead and trembling upon contact, "It's all that I ask for..."

Dottore narrowed his brows. Perhaps he may have gotten too far.

"But I know it's impossible. The world is a cruel place and there's no point in trying anymore. That is why I'm going to set us free."

"...What do you mean?"

You shut your eyes closed and tossed the flaming torch to the ground. A horrified expression takes over his features. It didn't take long for the fire to begin spreading amongst the room.

"NO!" Dottore yelled powerfully, he frantically darts his gaze at all directions as they continued to flicker and blend into his precious documents. You stood still and watched him grab the ones that were intact, savouring the most he could but they slip out of his arms every time he moved. Dottore glances behind him to see a rising cage of hellfire. Then he turns to you.

" 'Til death do us part!" you laughed maniacally.

The madman looked back with angry dismay, "You're out of your mind!"

Abandoning whatever he held in his hand, Dottore spins around towards the staircase. He covers his face with his sleeve and did whatever he could to prevent the fire from touching him. However, he accidentally stumbled on his footsteps and something fell off the heights, knocking him in the face. He grunts painfully.

"That will leave a scar," you smile while he clutches at his injury, "I can break you too.”

Just like how you broke me.

Knowing that you've managed to leave a mark of your existence on him in someway, you peacefully watched your lover wobble between the hell you created. But the hell you knew was not made of scorching heat and thundering flames. Hell was empty. Hell was a void. This feeling was far too gentle to be considered hell. If he can't return your love, then at least let these caging arms bask you in the warmth you’ve always desired.

Lifting your head, you looked towards the ceiling and closed your eyes.

Ah, this cannot be death.

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revengeisourlullaby · 3 years

Text

If I Never Knew You Pt.3

Pt. 1 Pt.2 Pt. 3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

Warnings: 18+, smut in this chapter, unprotected sex, (some dom/sub themes, cunnilingus, squirting, slight breeding/impreg language, creampie, cumplay), some fluffiness follows the smut, secret relationship, angst

a/n: Part 3! This is the smut chapter. This is one of the longer ones. I hope this is meeting everyones expectations from what the first chapter had given off. Very excited to share the rest. As always requests/asks are open! :)

Word count. 3.7K

You were awakened with a light knock on the other side of Loki’s chamber door. You kept your eyes closed not wanting to have to face any conflict fresh out of sleep. Remaining in your same position you heard Thor’s voice informing Loki to feel free to make his way to the dining hall. You kept still, wanting to hear the entire conversation without any disruptions or derailings of what was meant to be said.

“Who's the young lady between your legs, brother?”

“One I’m thinking of marrying. The only issue is her parents' blessing, something she’s yet to ask. The right time’s on the horizon, but not quite within reach.”

“Have you spoken to father about it?”

“I have the feeling that waiting until the last moment will work best for me. A bit of chaos if you will.”

Thor chuckled

“You never change, brother.”

“Why alter something that needs not fixing?”

“That bridge is yours to cross and I will be there for you when it happens. Regardless, food will be waiting for you and your lady when you're ready to come out.”

Loki nodded his head in acknowledgment and Thor left the room. With the door closing, you stretched and turned around to face Loki.

“So, you plan on making me your wife?”

“You were awake?!”

“I had stirred awake when your brother knocked on the door. I wasn’t faking it the whole time. Although I’ll admit, it’s nice to know you’re in this fully.”

You stood up and moved to sit in Loki’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Well, since you eavesdropped in on the conversation, are you up to eat?”

You answered, hesitantly,

“Yes...if you’re in it fully and an offer of marriage is in the near future, the least I can do to convey my undying fidelity is to be shared with you in public. I’m ready for it all.”

Standing up, you stepped to the side to let Loki up and lead the way. Once out of his quarters you walked beside him through the corridors of the palace he called home. Arriving in the dining hall to your surprise and relief everyone had already left. The two of you to be left alone. Life felt unusually at ease, anxiety was free from your bones and you had a gut feeling that at least while you were here everything would play out in your favor. It was more than comforting and for once in quite some time you were finally able to eat. A little more than you expected honestly. You hadn’t realized how much you had been depriving yourself of necessary nutrients because eating was the last thing on your mind. Everything had been cluttered for the past year.

It wasn’t until recently that your appetite began to fizzle out. You knew you’d eventually be okay but one meal a day would eventually catch up to you. And right now it was showing.

“Hungry?”

Suddenly aware of your surroundings and Loki’s raised eyebrow you were faced with how much you had actually gone through while being stuck in your head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t look like a pig did I?”

You shrunk, your shoulders making a poor attempt at hiding your embarrassed face.

“No, Y/N, you did not. Simply wondering how you put it all away.”

You paused wondering whether or not you should expose yourself. Relationships were all about transparency, right?

“I haven’t been eating all that much lately. The mental has affected the physical especially within my own home and I finally felt comfortable within these walls and I completely forgot my manners. My apologies.”

“I never said to stop. Indulge till your heart and well, stomach’s content Y/N. This will be your home, thus you may behave however you see fit. There’s no need for change.”

Looking at Loki through your brow you saw that he meant what he said. The expression on his face silently communicating sincerity to you. Your embarrassment faded and was replaced with affirmation.

Finishing in the hall you and Loki walked back into his quarters. Night had fallen over the sky completely and the hallways of the palace looked more familiar to you now. Entering his room you walked past the bed and went straight for the balcony. You looked up towards the sky, looking for the answer to all your questions to be written in the stars. You failed to hear the footsteps behind you and only became aware of Loki’s presence when his arms wrapped around your waist, his head resting on your shoulders.

“You know, the stars aren’t going to give you the answers with any more ease. Believe me, I’ve tried. You just have to do what you don’t want to.”

“I know I just...I just wish it would be easier. I wish we had the freedoms of the cosmos, being able to travel through the entire mass of space without thought of what's to come next.”

You turned around, resting your back against the railing. You looked down and fiddled with your fingers for a moment before you looked up at Loki. The moonlight was bright and full, casting a white shadow across his features. You were unsure of what to do with your hands so you just placed them by your sides and admired Loki for a little while longer. A small smile subconsciously formed on your face and it wasn't until Loki reached for your hands did the haze in your eyes fade.

“If only you knew the chaos I’d bring upon worlds. If only you knew the hells I’d race through, the agony I’d suffer with if it meant you by my side...it would seem that freedom is already had, my darling.”

“Loki, I-

“-No matter the circumstance, you will be by my side. Whatever the battle is you must face with your parents, I swear to you, you will not bear the burden alone. If you were to, then what would I be here for?”

Your hand squeezed around his own and before you got a chance to respond to him, Loki’s hand slipped from your own and tilted your chin up. Staring into your eyes before capturing you into a searing kiss. It felt warm, comfortable, and fueled by fiery passion all at once. You removed your hand from his and wrapped your arms around his neck, weaving your fingers into his hair. Loki’s hands traveled to your waist but didn’t stay long before they traveled further down and firmly grasped your ass in his hand. The action causing an airy moan to slip from you and tug on his hair tighter eliciting a similar response from him. He slipped away from your lips, smirk all too telling of what was to come next

“Coming alive now that the moon is out? You’re like my own personal bloodsucker.”

You playfully hit his shoulder

“Loki..”

“What it’s true darling. You really do, come...alive at night. It’s not a problem though, I quite enjoy seeing you shed the layers you wear while the sun shines.”

Emphasizing his point he squeezed your ass again and tapped under signaling to you to jump. Wrapping your legs around his slender waist, he turned you around and walked back into his bedroom.

“Now that you are in your element, I take it it's time for that prize you spoke of so arrogantly earlier.”

Your eyes widened realizing what you had just signed yourself up for. Loki placed you gently down on his bed and crawled over to face you directly.

“Unfortunately...for you at least, your choice in waiting will leave you in desperate need of a pillow to keep you from waking anyone important up.”

“You’re so snarky, what if I desire to control this evening, hmm?”

“It will be a dream short-lived my love. You and I both know you have a debilitating tendency to fall weak under my touch. It’s irresistible to you.”

Tangling your leg underneath Loki’s, you flipped yourself over so that you were now on top of him. Desperate in having at least one moment to relish in dominance over him. Situating yourself you ground yourself into his now growing arousal. Planting your hands on his chest you brought yourself forward, leaning down into his ear and rolling your hips into his once more causing him to hiss through his teeth. Licking a stripe up from his neck to his ear you ended your trail with a light nibble on his lobe. In your last-ditch effort of a display of power, you whispered in his ear,

“Don’t be dense, you and I both know you enjoy it with much fervor being like this.”

And just like that, your moment of fame was something of the past. Before you could even register that your moment was gone, Loki was already on top of you, and the dress that once adorned your soft skin was being torn down the middle, exposing your body to him.

“Loki!-”

“-My love, there was no room left for teasing. We already established that did we not? Now, to remind you of your place, I’m going to make sure you never forget it or this night we’re sharing.”

Loki snaked down your body, his hands resting on your hips bones while he nudged your sex with his nose. Squirming your way into a submissive role, you rolled your hips down in need of any type of friction.

“Y/N, unlike some people in the room, I fully intend on giving you what you yearn for. You just have to find the willpower of patience within you. Remember I don’t like teasing.”

“But you do like to lie, which you just did right th-”

Your sentence was cut short cuz Loki had licked a tender stripe between your folds. Sending passion electric through your body. Your head lulled back into the bed fully engaged in Loki’s ministrations to your most sensitive of areas. Losing yourself in the moment you failed to notice Loki’s hands traveling up your sides and resting on your pert nipples. Rolling them between his fingers, your fingers clutched the sheets beneath you, needing something to brace yourself on.

“Shit~ Loki, you're so good! Oh my god, don’t stop, I’m so close!”

Lifting his head up slightly you felt the change in atmosphere waiting for his smart remark to leave his lips.

“You said that with a lowercase g right?”

A little extra air left your nose signaling your light amusement to his statement. Only to follow it with a roll of your eyes still amazed by Loki’s narcissism even in such an intimate moment. The lightness in the air didn’t last long for Loki continued his attack on your cunt without warning. Smirking against your folds, he spoke

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. Unless you’re seeking punishment this evening.”

“Fuck Loki!”

His tongue was something otherworldly, finding all your sweet spots and using it to his advantage. He rolled your nipple once more and this time added a lithe finger inside your dripping heat curling it just right to become acquainted with the cute little spongy spot within you. Your hands found refuge in his black locks, rolling your hips into his face feeling your release begin to peak over the precipice.

“Loki, please don’t stop! I’m so close, I’m gonna cum. Please, Please Loki let me cum.”

A reinvigorated fire was now fueling Loki to help you reach your bliss and with a swift back and forth motion on your now swollen clit your orgasm washed over you in a way you hadn’t felt before. Your back arched and your thighs clamped around Loki’s head being completely overwhelmed with your climax. As your orgasm subsided you brought yourself to your elbows getting ready to return the favor to your lover. But he had other plans.

Grabbing your hips, Loki slid you down the bed closer to him and placed his mouth on your sensitive mound once more.

“Holy shit! Loki, stop, I'm so sensitive.”

Looking up at your through hooded lids, he cocked one eyebrow and questioned

“Do you really want me to stop?”

“I-uhh”

Flattening his tongue against your sex your response was lost in thin air replaced with a cry of pleasure. Loki entered another finger into your fluttering cunt and was determined on bringing you to a second rapture which was not difficult considering the aftershocks of your first one were still running through you. You felt the heat pool in your lower stomach and you began to feel the pressure build somewhere lower. For a split second, you became worried about what was going to happen next and you attempted to push Loki away from you not wanting to lose control, but his other arm kept you in place.

“Loki, please I can’t handle it. Please!”

You weren’t quite sure what it was you were begging for. It definitely wasn’t for him to stop because you were so close but rather to save the embarrassment of what was to come. Unable to ward off your orgasm any longer, Loki’s finger made one final motion and your second orgasm was even stronger than the first. Ruining your vision and making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Darling...remind me from now on to never let you writhe out of my ministries.”

Trying to calm down your heavy breathing you looked down at Loki only to be met with the sight of beads of your orgasm trail down his face and your juices glistening on his chin. The sheets beneath you beginning to turn a little cold.

“Loki, oh my-”

Climbing up over your body, he hovered over your face. Somehow while lost in your own euphoria Loki’s shirt was discarded somewhere in the room and you were all but distracted by his toned physique.

“Don’t even think about an apology. Seeing you lose yourself in me like that was more than satisfying and this was just an extra luxury that you allowed me to enjoy.”

He emphasized his point by rubbing his fingers through your weeping pussy causing your body to jerk due to the sensitivity and Loki just smiled at you. Moaning you trailed your hand down to the pronounced tent in Loki’s pants.

“I can’t wait any longer Loki. I need you inside of me. Please.”

Your voice faded into a whimper becoming insatiable with Loki above you. Fidgeting with the button on his pants, it didn’t take you long to have them unfastened, and slipped your hand into his pants, palming his length. Loki dropped his head into the crook of your neck, a low growl escaping his throat. Helping Loki push the fabric down the rest of his legs he positioned himself in between your hips lining himself up with your entrance. Looking up at you, you noticed there was a certain softness swimming in his eyes.

“Y/N, you are so beautiful. Truly you are the most entrancing woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and I’m more than favored to be able to call you mine.”

“Loki, I~oh fuck”

The recurring theme of your sentences being lost in translation continued when Loki prodded his tip at your entrance causing you to suck in a breath of sheer pleasure.

“Don’t tease me, please. Just fill me up Loki, I feel so empty without you.”

A moan and an airy chuckle left Loki’s lips before he fully sheathed himself within your tight core.

“Darling, no matter how many times I have marred your womb you still remain tight as ever. Gods you feel divine.”

Moving at a slow yet devastating pace Loki’s cock was kissing your cervix and sweet spot with every single thrust. Your core clenching around him created a resistance that was licentious and overwhelming for the both of you. Loki pulled himself almost all the way out and then slammed back into your sopping cunt causing a loud high pitched moan to flee from your chords.

“Shit! Loki, do that again.”

Loki repeated the action and your back arched from the bed and your nails dug into his back racking down the length of it. This new pace and pattern of movement were moving you quickly to your third release of the evening.

“You like that Y/N. Like how my cock can make you feel like no one else can. I’m going to make sure that your insides become so familiar with my shape that nothing else will be able to satisfy you.”

Picking up his pace slightly, Loki was still slamming deep inside you. Your eyes were no longer able to stay open while lost in all the pleasure that was tingling your entire body. Quickly though that thought would be eradicated from your mind as Loki’s hand came up to your face squishing your cheeks together forcing your lips to pout.

“Look at me while I fuck you Y/N. I want to watch you fall apart underneath me. I want you to watch as I fill you with my seed, claiming you as mine forever.”

You and Loki had never let him finish inside of you and the idea of him filling you with his seed and becoming swollen with his kid had you squeezing around him tighter than you ever had. Your moans picked up in frequency and you moved your hand up to his neck bringing his face down to your so that you could share a kiss while the both of you were approaching your highs. Loki’s hand snaked down to your core and began lightly rubbing on your clit. The last bit of stimulation fully brings you to the peak of your approaching high.

“Loki, fuck. I’m going to cum. Please don’t stop. Please please please!”

Loki brought his forehead down to rest on yours. A sticky layer of sweat was evident on both your faces. His thrusts became more erratic signaling he hadn’t much time left in him before his high.

“I love you, Y/N. More than you could fathom. And I~ahh”

This affirmation took you by surprise. You and Loki had a strong partnership and you knew that you loved each other mutually but you both had never said it out loud before. Not only did this warm your heart but it also pushed you over your threshold and your climax. Washing over you for the third time that evening. Your fluttering core cutting off Loki’s admirations for you and also sending him over his escarpment.

“I love you too Loki, so much. I~ah fuck you feel so good still.”

Keeping your foreheads still pressed together, you stayed like that until your breathing mellowed out. Waiting for the right moment to speak again. Pulling out of you Loki watched as his seed was spilling out of you due to the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Now look at that. This is something I could get used to seeing. But more importantly, I want to ensure that your womb takes all of me.”

Taking his nimble fingers, Loki was gently pushing back his cum inside of your cunt. You were so sensitive that each time his fingers grazed your now wrecked hole, your body reacted with a quick shake and the tightening of your stomach. Your eyes kept halfway rolling into the back of your head, the overstimulation turning into something of immense ecstasy.

“Come up here Loki.”

Sliding his way up towards the head of the bed where you were, you nestled into his chest. His skin still tacky with sweat, your bodies melding together like human puzzle pieces. Your hand was drawing mindlessly on his chest and eventually found its way to his face where you were thumbing his cheek.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what- of course, I did. Y/N you know that lying to you is something I find absurd. And of the few things, I refuse to lie about, intimacy is one of them. Do not fill yourself with unnecessary doubt.”

Turning his face to yours you shared another kiss with him. Tender and full of passion you were silently telling him that you understood and that the feelings were reciprocated. Pulling away from you he sat up.

“Perhaps we should run ourselves a bath. Clean ourselves up before we grow too tired to think about anything else.”

Sighing you pushed yourself up to sit upright on the bed. Lightly nodding Loki stood from the bed and was waiting for you before moving any further. You looked up at him with pleading eyes

“Carry me?”

With a roll of his eyes and a click of his tongue he begrudgingly picked you up bridal style and walked you to the bathroom of his quarters.

“You are incongruous.”

“Perhaps I am, but for us, it works.”

Setting you down on the edge of the tub Loki began drawing the bath. Steam rising up from the heat of the water. You knew it would sting on the way in but the initial burn would morph into relaxation and ease your now tense muscles. Reaching for the soap on the corner of the bath closest to you, you walked over shakily to the spout of water so that bubbles would form before the two of you got in.

Once the water hit an appropriate height Loki helped you in, already aware of the weakness in your legs. Settling in behind you he began washing you down with one of the many washrags in the bathroom.

“You know, we’re going to have to get this out in the open a lot sooner than we were planning. Especially if you are to have my child.”

“I know. I was thinking about that. Give my silence. Let us wait till morning to run through our thoughts about how to go about this. I want to enjoy this moment with you without the worry of what’s to come next.”

“Understood my love.”

With Loki having the last word, the two of you shared amorous silence while relaxing in the tub. Enjoying each other’s company, the silence between the two of you was necessary to think about what was going to happen next in the chaos of your life. Finishing up in the bath, you two dried off and headed off to bed. Wrapped in each other’s arms, you drifted off to sleep rather quickly. Your body exhausted from the night's affairs. Not knowing that this would be the last night you recognized what peace could ever look like.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel smut #marvel imagine #marvel x reader

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walkerwords · 4 years

Text

“Hold On” Rick Grimes & Daughter!Reader

GIF CREDIT: http://gph.is/2yDy2U6

Request from @joelsheartache: I'd like to request a Rick x daughter!reader. The reader it shot instead of Olivia, but instead of a head shot it's in her abdomen but the shot is still fatal. Rick tries to stop the blood flow and says things along the lines of "You're gonna be okay, baby girl! You just have to focus on me! No, no, y/n, keep your eyes open!" You can decide if she lives or not! This may not be the best request, but I really liked the idea!

Word Count: 3635

Warning: Major Angst

Song I Wrote To: “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet

Note: Oof this was a request that I was both excited and stressed to write. I hope you like it

------

When you discovered your brother was missing, you knew exactly where he had gone.

You knew Carl wanted to kill Negan and you knew that he had been becoming more reckless since everything had happened at Terminus. Then, when Negan had killed Glenn and Abraham in front of him, Michonne had told you that something had shifted in your younger brother’s eyes.

You hadn’t been there when the Saviors had taken your people and killed your friends, but when they had returned and your father, Rick, came to find you, he hadn’t hesitated to take you in his arms and make sure that you were still there, that you were still alive.

You were his eldest and whenever he wasn’t home, you were the one who wanted to look after your little sister. However, seeing how broken they all looked, a part of you wished you would have been there. Maybe you would have been able to stop Negan or at least stop him from taking Daryl.

Living with Negan’s boot on your necks was horrible. Every day you woke up and you didn’t know what was going to happen. While you were used to that due to the new world, this was a new kind of danger and one your father was determined to keep you and your siblings from.

That is until Carl decided to go all lone-wolf and test your patience.

The next time you saw your brother he was being led back through Alexandria by Negan himself. You were helping Gabriel in the pantry when they had arrived. Rage entered your chest as you saw the murderer walking alongside Carl, but when you saw where they were headed, that was when you nearly ran after them. However, Gabriel had grabbed your arm, shaking his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Remember what Rick said. Carl won’t let him hurt her and I don’t believe Negan would harm a child.”

“He threatened to make my dad cut off his own son’s arm, Father,” you spat, staring after them.

“But he didn’t and I don’t know what happened with Carl, but he is still alive and looks unharmed. We have to trust that he will be safe.” You pushed away from him.

“Nobody is safe anymore,” you had told him, “and if he touches a hair on Judith’s head, I’m going to kill him.”

The rule that your dad had given you was simple: don’t let people know you were his daughter. At least, not his enemies’. You looked more like your grandparents than your parents and your Uncle Shane had once said that you could pass for Lori’s sister rather than her daughter which had come in handy at times.

Especially when Gareth hadn’t targeted you when he had attacked the church and so you were able to get a jump on him before your father had brought the machete down.

You kept out of Negan’s way for as long as possible until the moment arrived when Spencer Monroe decided to make an appearance. You never liked Spencer, nobody in your family did. He was proud, arrogant, and he had been stuck in Alexandria for way too long. He was a child trying to be a man and you were done with his high and mighty attitude.

When the moron had invited Negan to drink and play pool out in the street, that was when you had finally approached him and the others. Your brother was standing on the porch next to Olivia when you walked over. His eyes met yours and he shook his head, but you ignored him, planting yourself on the grass below him, crossing your arms.

You watched as Spencer tried to convince Negan to work alongside him instead of your father and you had to keep reminding yourself to stay calm. Rick and Aaron were on their way back. It was only a matter of time before they came home. You knew that was what Negan was waiting for, the opportunity to rub it in your dad’s face that Carl had been returned safely.

As you thought about all the ways you could potentially slit Negan’s throat, a cry of alarm brought you out of your thoughts. Looking up, you saw Spencer hunched over and in Negan’s hand was a blade dripping in blood. He was smiling as Spencer’s guts spilled from his abdomen. Monroe collapsed to the ground as his intestines slipped through his fingers.

Negan went to make some kind of speech when Rosita pulled a gun from the back of her pants. You barely had a second to stop her before she aimed and fired at Negan. You froze, waiting for his body to drop, but the bullet had hit his bat instead.

“Shit! What the shit!” Negan bellowed as Rosita looked at him in utter shock. The next second, one of Negan’s lieutenants slammed Rosita into the pavement, holding her down by her throat. “Shit! You just‒ You tried to kill me!? You shot Lucille!” he screamed. Rosita sneered at him from the ground.

“She got in the way,” she growled. Negan, fuming, turned Lucille to observe the slug that now marred her smooth surface.

“What is this? What is this? This little bad boy made from scratch? Look at those crimps. This was homemade. You may be stupid, darlin', but you showed some real ingenuity here,” Negan spat and then gestured to the woman that held your friend down. “Arat, move that knife up on that girl's face.” Rosita squirmed under Arat, but held her tongue. “Lucille's beautiful, smooth surface is never gonna look the same, so why should yours?! Unless... Unless you tell me who made this.”

“It was me!” Rosita yelled from the ground. “I made it.”

“You see, now I just think you're lying. And you lying to me now? Such a shame. Arat's gonna have to cut up that pretty face,” Arat pressed the knife against Rosita’s cheek. “One more try.” Rosita remained silent.

“Oh! You are such a badass! Fine. Have it your way. Arat…, Negan paused as he lazily looked around the group that had gathered. “Kill somebody,” he finished and Rosita yelled, trying to shove Arat off of her.

“No. It was me!” she tried again, but it was too late. In a single move, Arat spun on her knee, pulled her gun, and squeezed the trigger.

The next thing you heard wasn’t the gunshot, but the sound of your younger brother screaming as heat rushed into your abdomen.

-------

“No!” Carl screamed and Olivia watched in horror as you collapsed to the ground.

Carl vaulted over the railing and slid to your side. “Oh god,” he said, trying to figure out where to put his hands, but there was already too much blood. You stared up at him, trying to figure why he looked so stressed, and when you looked down at yourself and saw the blood, the wound, terror entered your mind.

Not like this.

From down the road came two people, running as fast as they could. Rick nearly dragged Aaron who looked to be beaten. When Rick had gotten to the group, both Tobin and Eugene tried to stop him.

“Rick, stop!” Gabriel said, trying to hide you from view. Rick pushed against the men that held him, handing Aaron over to Tara and Scott. When Gabriel tried to stop him again, Rick shoved him out of the way.

And then, he saw you.

It was like Lori all over again. He walked forward before his knees gave out and Tobin had to catch him again. Carl looked up at his father, tears already flowing from his left eye. “No!” Rick cried, agony soaking his voice.

“Damn!” Negan said, “someone was popular.”

“She’s Rick’s daughter!” Rosita snapped at Negan, getting her voice back as the cut on her face bled. Lucille went from his shoulder to down by his side in a single movement at her words and then Negan took a step back, his face full of shock.

Rick nearly crawled to you, forcing himself to be by your side. His eyes widened as he took in your condition. You knew what he was seeing, there was too much blood. There wasn’t anything anyone could do. Rick was shaking as he knelt in the grass. “No, no, no, dammit, please (Y/N), not like this, sweetheart,” Rick pleaded.

“(Y/N),” Carl choked out, trying to get you to look at him.

“No, I promised her,” Rick cried. “I promised Lori I would keep you safe! All three of you, I was supposed to protect all three of you…” Weak, you reached for your dad, sliding your hand up his face to feel the stubble that you loved so much. Blood smeared along his cheek as you tried to memorize the feel.

“It’s okay,” you whispered.

“She’s only seventeen!” Gabriel hollered, turning his attention to Negan. You were only a year and a half older than Carl and while the two of you had grown up together, you had always felt responsible for him and now as you began to not feel the pain, all you could think of was how you didn’t want to leave him.

“Dammit, Arat! What the fuck!” Negan yelled, approaching her.

“You said to kill someone,” Arat argued, but Negan wasn’t hearing it. He grabbed her by her arm and hauled her up.

“Not a fucking kid,” Negan snarled and then he threw her to his men. “Take her back to the Sanctuary. I’ll deal with her later.” As Saviors took care of their comrade, Negan turned back to you and your family.

Your father was leaning over you, brushing the hair from your face. Lifting your hand towards your brother, you ran it along the side of his face. Carl leaned into your touch, his best friend. You tried to wipe the tears that flowed down his cheek, but you could barely keep your arm up.

“You’re gonna be okay,” your dad said, pressing a firm kiss to the back of your hand, but you were shaking your head.

“No, I’m not,” you said with a weak cough. “I’m so sorry dad,” you told him, tears falling from your own eyes. “I promised not... to go… near him.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Rick said. “Don’t apologize.” You began to cry more as the coldness seeped into your limbs.

“Dad,” you whispered, “daddy, don’t let me...don’t let me turn.” Rick’s eyes closed as his sobs took over him. “Promise me,” you finished.

“I promise, but you have to keep your eyes open for me. Don’t give up...” Rick pleaded and then you looked at your brother, your breathing labored as you mustered up the strength to look him in the eye.

“Tell Judith...Carl, you need to tell her…” you tried to finish, but Carl was already nodding.

“I will, (Y/N/N), I’ll tell her,” Carl promised.

“I love you both so much,” you said. “Michonne and Carol too and...Greene,” you said, not wanting to say Maggie’s name, not even then. “Tell them please.”

“We will,” Rick promised. “I love you so much.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Carl cried. “I’m sorry I snuck out to go there.” You shook your head, silently begging him to not blame himself. “I love you.” You squeezed your eyes shut as you nodded quickly.

You didn’t try to stop the tears now as they came at full force. You had thought about dying since the beginning of the outbreak. It was hard not too. You had seen so much death already, but you never imagined this is how you would meet your end.

With a deep breath, you turned your eyes to Negan, the only person who would be able to deliver your final message. Negan looked at you, bleeding and broken and he wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

“You,” you said hoarsely, “you need to tell Daryl that I meant it. Tell him I meant it. He’ll know,” you said and then with a cough, blood sprayed from your lips. As you stared up at the sky, your father turned his eyes to his enemy and they were as empty as he felt.

Negan’s eyes went from your father’s face to the hatchet at Rick’s hip. His hand curled around the handle, red entering those bright blue eyes of his. Negan looked as if he wanted to say something, but seeing Grimes leaning over his dying child had shut him up immediately.

Your father and brother held onto you as you lay in the grass of the front yard. There had been times that you thought you were going to die. The first time was when the farm was overrun, the second was when a Walker had nearly killed you while you were out on a run with Daryl at the prison, and the last time had been at Terminus.

You thought you would be ready, but you weren’t. You didn’t want to die and you just knew that your father would stop at nothing to avenge your death and that was something that you dreaded, but you also knew nothing would stop him. Not Michonne, not Carl, and not even himself.

Your grip loosened on your father and brother as you grew more tired. You didn’t know what would be on the other side. Perhaps there wasn’t anything anymore, but there was one person you were hoping to see and that was your mother.

All you wanted was your mom.

As darkness filled your vision, you imagined Lori reaching her hand toward you and with a small smile, you took your final breath.

------

Tara was the first one to crumble.

“(Y/N)!” she cried as Eugene caught hold of her, keeping her upright. Your best friend tried to get to you, but Porter made sure to keep her steady and in his arms. Rosita cried on the ground, guilt wracking her body as Gabriel stood by, saying a silent prayer for you. Carl stared down at you, your vacant eyes pointed at the heavens. He gently reached over and closed them, brushing his hand across your face.

“Rick,” Negan tried, but Grimes was frozen in shock. Instead, Carl was the one to answer the killer before him. Carl stood and slowly faced Negan, creating a barrier between you and the enemy.

“You killed my sister,” Carl said, tilting his head that was very much his father. Negan tried to speak, but Carl shook his head. “Get out, Negan,” Carl said between his teeth, his hand reaching for a gun that wasn’t there, “before I do kill you and trust me I’ll do it with my bare hands.”

The look on the teen’s face told him everything he needed to know, but before Negan could react, Michonne came running down the street, her katana swinging behind her back.

Everyone stepped aside as she ran towards you and her family. When she saw your body, Michonne’s eyes widened and then she ran to your side. “Oh, my girl,” Michonne said, gently, laying her shaking hand over your heart tears springing up behind her dark eyes.

Rick didn’t say anything as he reached over and took Michonne’s other hand, something he never did in front of outsiders. Michonne turned to the man she loved and pressed a kiss to his head as he leaned into her.

Then, because he knew that there wasn’t an infinite amount of time, Rick drew his knife, turning it over in his hand. Michonne lowered the blade, not wanting him to do it. He didn’t need to be the one to do it. Instead, Aaron staggered forward and opened his palm, ready to take the burden from the Grimes’ family just as they would do for him.

Michonne passed the knife to their friend as he kneeled down and turned your head to the side. Michonne buried her head into Rick’s shoulder as Aaron severed your brainstem and shoved the blade into your skull, placing you at rest for a final time.

Carl continued to act as a barrier between you and the Saviors, allowing your father and the woman who had become like a mother to you, say goodbye. Carl, who was still crying, never wavered.

“We’re leaving,” Negan announced and slowly the Saviors turned on their heels and walked back down the road, but not before Negan plunged his knife into Spencer’s skull, finishing him as he had begun moving once again.

Scott, Tobin, and a grief-stricken Tara followed the Saviors out of Alexandria, slamming the gate behind them. In the distance, Tara could hear the wails of Rick, Carl, and Michonne as they cried for their daughter and sister who was stolen from them.

-----

It was well into the evening when you and Spencer were buried.

It was agreed that Spencer would be buried next to Deanna and you, next to the flower bed. A part of Rick wished he could have taken your body to Hilltop to bury you with Glenn, but he knew he had to keep Maggie safe and not draw attention to the other community.

Rosita had taken a car with Eugene to inform Maggie, Sasha, and Jesus of what had happened to you. Rick knew how much Maggie loved you and he dreaded to know how she reacted to the news.

In the light of the moon, Carl, Michonne, and Rick knelt at your grave. Judith sat nearby, unaware that her sister was now gone forever. In her small hands was a bracelet that you had always worn, one she liked to play with. Carl had given it to her just before Gabriel had helped lower you into the ground.

It was silent before commotion drew the Grimes’ family out of their thoughts. From behind a house, Tara appeared, out of breath with wide eyes.

“What is it?” Michonne asked, but Tara was just shaking her head. Rick and Michonne glanced at each other before getting to their feet and following Tara who was gesturing them to follow her.

Carl stayed with Judith while Rick and Michonne made their way to the gate. What they saw, or rather, who, had Rick running at top speed. Leaning against Eric, bloody and beaten, but alive, was Daryl.

Rick ran to him, halting right before he plowed into the archer. Daryl squeezed Eric’s arm and promised him that he was good. Eric nodded and then left the brothers alone. “Daryl?” Rick asked, completely in shock.

“Son of a bitch let me go,” Daryl explained, shaking his dirty hair out of his face. “Just walked into my cell, dragged me out, threw me in a truck, and dropped me a half mile that way,” he said, pointing over his shoulder.

Rick was trying to understand Negan’s reasoning, but all he could think about was the fact that Daryl was home and no longer in his enemies clutches. “He lyin’ about (Y/N)?” Daryl asked and Rick shook his head.

Daryl didn’t hesitate any longer. He walked forward and took his brother into his arms. Rick collapsed against him, careful of his injuries. He clutched at Daryl’s back as the latter shook from emotion as well.

Daryl remembered when he had first met you. You were strong for a kid who had just seen the world burn and he liked you immediately. Then, you had met Beth on the farm and the two of you had been inseparable. He remembered how broken you were after her death and how you worked to overcome it, getting closer to Tara and your brother.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine you lying in the ground, still and cold. Michonne approached Daryl next and kissed him on the cheek as he held her, feeling her grief as well. The three warriors leaned on each other as they felt your loss and then, eventually, Daryl needed to see you.

-----

Michonne and Carl gave Daryl and Rick a moment by your grave. There was a simple marker and the necklace you always wore, a gift from Shane, was looped around the top of the cross for now. Rick was planning on giving it to Judith when she was older.

“What did she mean?” Rick said, breaking the silence. “(Y/N), she told Negan to tell you that ‘she meant it’. What did she mean?” Daryl sighed, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw.

“She once told me that she wanted me to fight,” Daryl explained. “It was after Beth and I told her about my old man.” Rick nodded, knowing the story of Will Dixon and what the bastard had done to Daryl as well as Merle. “I was doubtin’ myself, I didn’t think I could protect anyone again after I lost her. She believed I was a better man than my dad. I guess she really meant it.”

Daryl chewed on his thumb as he looked at the grave, willing himself not to cry. “She was about to be eighteen,” Rick said.

“Born in the winter, right?” Daryl remembered and Rick nodded. “Yeah, Lori mentioned that once.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Rick said after a moment, his eyes on the night sky.

“No more waitin’, man,” Daryl said. “We gotta fight and we gotta fight for her just as she was willin’ to fight for Glenn, Abraham, Beth, and every other damn person we’ve lost.”

Rick nodded and then Daryl offered his hand to his best friend. Rick gripped it tight. He made a silent promise to you then just as he had to Lori as she died, he wasn’t going to let them win and he wasn’t going to let the world take any more of his family.

“We kill them all,” said Rick, “and Negan is mine.”

TAGS: @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @felicisimor @amaroho

#twd imagine #angst #rick grimes x daughter!reader #reader insert #rick grimes imagine #carl grimes #negan #saviors #walkerwords #twd #the walking dead imagines #sad fic #sad imagine #The walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon

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nicekillchanceballs · 3 years

Text

I Might ◑

Pairing: timeskip!Akaashi Keiji x gn!reader Genre: Hurt/comfort, a little bit of romance and fluff? Synopsis: You just wanted your coffee. Instead, you got a stranger together with your drink. Word Count: ~3.7k A/N: I never thought this would be so long please don’t get bored. I also apologize for any grammatical errors, I am so rusty, lol. This is my first work in my Love Me ◑ series. Thank you!! -- sloth 🦥 Listen to I Might ◑ here.

It’s hard to vanish without a trace And whose idea was this in the first place? I might, I might, I might Fake my death tonight So we can start a whole new life

You always have been a regular of this coffee shop you're in right now. Ever since you were a university student, up until now that you're a writer for a lifestyle magazine, you always make sure to visit this café at least every 3 months to unwind and relax -- even if it meant that you will have to starve yourself for days so that you can have the money to treat yourself at this hidden gem of a place.

You ordered your usual. Upon receiving your drink and pastry, you took a seat and table on the balcony outside overlooking the lake below. You are the only person here because the other customers are inside the shop utilizing the fireplace and heater. It is kind of chilly, luckily, you sport a thick cardigan on. You took a deep breath and the scent of coffee, cinnamon, and pine trees helped in calming your nerves down.

As you took a sip of your caramel macchiato, you are mentally listing the reasons why this place became your go-to spot. First, it is located in a place up in the mountains, so it is very cold and only a few people are braving to go here. Second, the coffee and pastries this place offers deliciously hits your coffee-loving sweet tooth. For you, no amount of Starbucks or Tim Hortons can compete with this café. Lastly, and the most important, this place witnessed and cured you of your misfortunes and depression. Every time something bad happens, being the introvert that you are, you tend to go off the grid to escape and do your "soul searching", and this place helped you with that.

You brought out your journal and pen, scribbling random thoughts that fill your overactive brain. Your friend, who is a psychologist, advised you that whenever you feel overwhelmed, you can write the feelings or things that seem to engulf you. “It somehow will help you in releasing your frustrations instead of bottling it up,'' she said.

You looked up and admired the view this place has to offer. The sky is painted pastel orange with hues of blue and purple. You noticed that fog is already forming below, hugging the pine trees around the lake. The lagoon is calm as ever, reflecting the already setting sun. You smiled as you basked in peace and contentment.

However, your tranquility was kind of disturbed when the balcony glass doors opened and a tall man with short, black, tousled hair occupied a seat two tables away from you. He looked like he stepped out of a men's fashion magazine -- he was wearing black-rimmed eyeglasses, a beige turtleneck, black jeans, a long brown coat, and a satchel sling bag. He then settled his tray with his own coffee and pastry on his table. You immediately turned your head away, afraid that this beautiful man may have caught you staring. You felt heat from your cheeks forming as you carried on scrawling in your journal. He's so beautiful, you thought.

However, as you continued to write, you remembered the face of your boss making your blood slightly boil. Well, the reason you are here is because of the stress in your workplace -- asshole superiors, some good-for-nothing co-workers, shitty salary, unreasonable work hours, and your list goes on. Once I gained my needed years of experience, I will immediately resign, I swear on the grave of that ungrateful boss bastard. This anger made you forget about the pretty man meters away from you.

Little did you know that he is also staring at you. He noticed your furrowed eyebrows and the intensity of you jotting away at your notebook. He also noticed your reddened cheeks and the breath vapor that formed as you huffed in exasperation. He was not the one to be observant towards strangers (it is only his friends that he is concerned about), but you have this certain aura that entices him. He smiled as he gulped his black coffee, pulled out his laptop from his bag, opened it, and checked some emails.

You estimated that ten minutes have already passed and you are still writing, anger somehow dissipating when suddenly you heard a loud "Hey, hey, hey, can we talk to the manager?” inside the coffee shop. You sighed because now, your peace is totally disrupted. You whipped your head to look at the commotion inside and you saw a tall man with spiky gray hair and black streaks wearing a black hoodie and jeans. That loud guy was accompanied by another taller man with messy, spiky black hair wearing a white t-shirt tucked in his slacks. The store manager then approached them. What’s with very tall, beautiful people today wanting coffee? You thought.

Shrugging, you looked again at your notebook. Without thinking, you stole a glance towards the direction of the man seated meters away from you. You saw that he was pale and his eyes were wide, frozen in shock. His gaze fell upon you, realizing that you were looking at him. He immediately scrambled from his seat and briskly walked towards you. You instinctively panicked. What is happening?!

He stopped beside your seat and he instantly crouched down, as if hiding from something. You looked down at him, your eyes also a notch bigger than normal from shock. He then softly whispered, “Under no circumstances you will tell anyone, especially them --” he motioned towards the two men inside the shop -- “that I am here. Please.” His emerald eyes are practically begging you. Hypnotized by him, you just nodded. “I’ll just hide in the comfort room, just knock four times when they are gone.” He said and then clambered away from you, making his way towards the bathroom.

You took a deep breath and sighed loudly. You are very confused as to why the man was hiding. Is he a serial killer? Are the two tall men inside detectives or something? Or are they kidnappers? Hitmen? Is the pretty boy gonna be abducted? Your mind was in overdrive. You thought of just packing up and leaving the establishment, but you sympathize with the man you just spoke with. You don’t know why, but you can relate to him.

Your musings are interrupted as the lights in the balcony lit up. Oh, the sun has already set. You glanced at your wristwatch and it was already 6:30 PM. You heard the balcony doors open and the tall, black-haired man entered, with the gray-and-black haired man following suit. Oh, shit, they are here to question me.

“Hi.” The man with black hair smiled at you. “I am Kuroo, and the noisy one there is Bokuto.”

Bokuto is smiling widely, walking towards you but is distracted by the view of the city skyline. He ran and stood beside the balcony railings. “Man, it is beautiful and cold here in Miyagi!”

Kuroo scratched his head, “I apologize for my loud friend, but have you seen a man this tall ---” he gestured his hand just near his temples, demonstrating the height of the man you spoke with earlier -- “he has green eyes and black-rimmed eyeglasses.”

“Yes, yes, he looks preppy,” Bokuto said as he finally walked towards your seat.

You cleared your throat. You have this habit of clearing your throat when you are nervous. “No, I haven’t seen anyone with that description.” You lied as you nervously sip your now cold coffee.

“Oh really?” Bokuto pouted, deep in thought. He then looked at Kuroo, pointing at the other table. “That looks like his laptop and bag.”

You almost choked on your drink as you realized that the man left his things at his table. Shit. Your mind quickly formulated a shitty lie. “Uhm, it is a girl -- an employee that is seated there, not a man.”

“Employee?” They said in unison.

“Yes. An employee of this coffee shop. That’s her laptop. They are doing interviews earlier. Job openings…” You trailed off.

The two men just nodded. Bokuto sighed loudly. “Where did Akaashi run off to? I am getting worried. He’s gone for a week already! His ex-girlfriend is so mean!”

“Hey now, he is a grown-ass man okay? I know he knows what he is doing. Let’s just resume the search tomorrow, shall we?” Kuroo patted his friend’s back.

Bokuto looked at you with his somber, amber, owl-like eyes and said, “Thank you for your help. We are very sorry for disturbing you.”

“So we’ll leave you alone now, thank you again.” Kuroo nodded at you and the pair started walking out of the balcony. You awkwardly smiled at their backs.

When Kuroo closed the balcony glass doors, you noticed his cat-like eyes lingered on you for a moment, glimpsed at Akaashi’s table, and at you again. Maybe it is just the lighting inside the coffee shop, or it is only your imagination, but you saw a small, sly smile forming on his lips. He finally turned his back and walked away.

What the heck was that? Did he know that I’m lying?! I am really a shitty liar. You ran your fingers through your hair. You then stood up and glanced around, ensuring that the two men were really gone. You immediately went to the bathroom and knocked four times. There was no response but you can hear shuffling inside. You immediately went back to your seat on the balcony.

Minutes later, Akaashi emerged from the door, went to his table, and started to gather his things. Oh, he’s leaving already, what did I expect? You thought as you softly face-palmed yourself.

“Can I sit here?”

You removed your palm from your face and looked up at Akaashi. You felt your eyes widen again. “You... You were not leaving?”

“No, not yet.”

You just nodded and removed your bag from the seat across you. He then took the said seat.

"So.." He looked sideways, afraid to meet your eyes because of embarrassment. "I think I owe you an explanation."

You just nodded again, still dumbstruck by his charm.

“To start, I am Akaashi Keiji, well… You can call me Keiji.” He took a sip of his coffee. “And contrary to what Bokuto said earlier --”

“You heard them earlier?” You finally spoke, interrupting him. Oh god, he must have heard my pathetic lies earlier.

“Uhh, yes. Those two are so loud, they sound like they swallowed microphones or something.”

You chuckled at his snarky comment. “Yeah, they really are loud.”

“Anyway… Thank you so much for what you did earlier. I am truly sorry for dragging you into this.” He scratched his head. “Good thing they fell for your alibi.”

“Yeah, Bokuto fell for it. He must really miss you.” You broke a small piece from your chocolate chip cookie and munched on it. “But for Kuroo… I don't know. I think he knows.”

“Oh, Kuroo? He really is a pain in the ass.” Akaashi rolled his eyes and sighed. “So to continue, contrary to what Bokuto said earlier, it is not because my ex-girlfriend dumped me. It's been three months ago already. I kind of expected it because I caught her cheating so many times I cannot count it with my two hands.” He said nonchalantly while holding up both of his hands.

How can he be so cool about being dumped?! You thought, then you noticed that although calloused, he has very nice hands. Blue veins were prominent in his palms, running up toward his long, slender fingers. You want to punch yourself for noticing that at this time. Hey, stupid self, this is not the time for simping on a stranger!

He continued, “I disconnected from everyone because everything is overwhelming me. My job, my boss, bills, rent… Adulting is very hard, you know?” He droned on as he fiddled the cup sleeve of his coffee. "Also, I have always wanted to be a literary editor, but instead, they assigned me as an editor in a manga magazine."

You wanted to ask how he went off the grid because you’re interested in doing that too, but he continued on ranting.

“I am usually a calm and collected person.” Akaashi gulped again on his coffee. “I usually handle problems like a breeze, not even my friends can recognize that I have problems because I immediately find ways and solve them with ease. But now, I think I reached my tipping point, and it’s very hard to keep up with this front anymore. I am just tired, then I find myself driving away from Tokyo, and here I am.” He stared into your eyes, expecting for you to say something. Akaashi surprised himself that he bared his vulnerabilities upon a stranger.

Well, you are also astonished just the same. You realized it is getting serious.

“So.. how long have you been into hiding?”

He counted in his mind. “Today is the sixth day.”

You cleared your throat again. "Since you're very honest with me, can I be very honest with you too?"

He looked at you and nodded. "Yes please. I need it."

"Promise that you won't be mad or something?"

"I promise."

"Okay, let's start." You cleared your throat again because you're nervous. "First, it's okay to admit that you're hurt because your ex-girlfriend broke your heart."

"I am not hurt--" He muttered in protest.

"Ah ah ah." You interrupted him. "Your nonchalance about it did not match the way you narrated it. Too many words for someone who did not care."

Akaashi's eyes widened, as if slapped by the truth. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, okay, I think you're right." He exhaled loudly. "I gave her so many chances…" He trailed off.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later." He looked at you and in all seriousness said, "I am Akaashi Keiji and I admit I am hurt. My heart has been broken. Luckily, very recently, I think I am healing."

You smiled at him. Her ex-girlfriend must be stupid to dump a guy this pure and well.. good looking. “Okay, good, good!" You exclaimed as you took another bite of your cookie. "Well, I don't know if this helps, but I just learned that love is like trial-and-error. Some people get it right the first time, but most of the time, you will try, and try, and try, until you get it right…" Your voice trailed away.

Akaashi looked at his untouched croissant. "Yes, I think that helped." He flashed a faint smile and looked up again. "I'm ready for your next one."

"Okay. Here it goes. Yes, I very much agree that adulting is very hard."

"Right? They did not teach this in high school, nor in university." He poked his pastry.

"I cannot give insights on adulting because I'm going through it too, you know? I am just as lost as you." You removed the cup sleeve of your coffee and toyed with it. "But I can assure you, you and me, we are not the only ones lost. We just have to deal with asshole people, I guess?"

"Yeah. Fuck asshole people." He grinned.

You chuckled. You don't know why a sudden warmth spreads through your chest. Maybe it's because you made him smile? Or the fact that you, a stranger, comfort him? Or the relief that you are not alone dealing with the pressure of adulting? Or maybe all of the above?

"Ready for the third one?"

"Yeah."

"I am pretty much aware that I'm in no position to tell you this, but damn, editor already at such a young age?"

"It's not my dream job, though." He retorted.

"But you're still young." You smiled softly, even though you envy him. In the magazine company where you're working, you're only a writer, nothing more, nothing less. "You must be pretty awesome to be an editor already. You still have plenty of time to reach your dream job. No need to rush, it is not a race." Even though you're jealous of him, you can't help but be in awe of him. Good looking plus smart? Damn. I need to stop simping.

"Yeah." He rested his chin on his hands. "Once again, I guess you're right. What am I in a rush for?" He nodded. "Even though I just met you minutes ago, why are you easy to talk to? Why are you so good at this?" He looked at you with his bright, green eyes.

"Believe me, I don't know. I am usually silent but here I am, babbling things to a stranger.” You shrugged, chuckling. “I am only realizing these things now because of you. Earlier, I was down in the dumps too."

"I am going to ask you later why you are in the dumps, but in the meantime, I am ready for the next one."

You purse your lips. "Okay, Keiji, you must rejoice because this is the last one."

"Okay. I'll brace myself."

"Here it goes.” You held his gaze. “I think you're too hard on yourself. You need to loosen up."

He just blinked at you.

You folded your coffee cup sleeve and slowly tore it as you spoke. "Also, expressing emotions is not a sign of weakness. I think you are tiring yourself out because you keep a front that you are strong, that you have no problems.” You noticed that he winced. “Because of that, you get drained. You must remember that you are just as vulnerable as everyone."

He took a gulp of his now cold coffee.

You continue to tear your cup sleeve. “You don’t need to change how you act after this. You can still be withdrawn with your emotions towards others, I mean, it’s not easy to change yourself after one night, right? But the only thing important here is you need to be honest with your feelings. You should not apologize for how you feel. Also, it is never wrong to ask for help from others. If you’re hurt, acknowledge it. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, acknowledge it. If you’re tired, acknowledge it.”

You exhaled, looked up at him, and saw his eyes were watery.

Shit, is he about to cry? “H-hey, I am sorry --”

His tears finally fell. “Oh.” He touched his cheeks wet from the tears and flinched. “It’s weird. It does not stop.” He pointed at his eyes with a slight panic in his voice.

You felt your eyes water too as you grabbed your packet of tissues inside your bag. “Here, you can wipe them if you want.”

“Thank you.” He removed his eyeglasses and wiped his cheeks. “I cannot stop it.” His tears are still streaming like a waterfall.

“Good lord, when was the last time you cried?” You asked, concerned.

“I-- I can’t remember. It’s a long time ago, I guess.” He sniffed, wiped his tears again, then weakly chuckled. “I am sorry for crying --”

“Ah ah ah.” You interrupted again. “Repeat after me. You should never ---”

He cut you off, “Never apologize for how I feel. Also, be honest with my feelings. Ask help from others.”

You smiled. “Great.” It then took about a good five minutes until his silent crying stopped.

He cleared his throat. “Hey. Thank you. Crying feels good.”

“It is not in my intention to make you cry, but you’re welcome, I guess?”

He chuckled. “Uhm, do you want another drink or pastry? It’s my treat.” He offered while he wore his eyeglasses again.

“Really? Wow, thank you.” My broke ass won’t let this one pass.

“On one condition. You’ll tell me about yourself too.”

“Okay.” You beamed. “But I think you’ll be bored.”

“Nope. I am all ears.” He smiled.

“Excuse me.” A barista walked to your table and smiled at both of you. “We will close in ten minutes, any additional orders?”

The both of you shook your head and thanked the barista. He went inside again.

You looked at your wristwatch. "It's almost midnight already?!"

"Really? Time flies so fast." Akaashi said. You did not see it but he looked at you with his soft eyes.

“So... Let’s go?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The both of you packed up your things and went inside. He bowed to the store manager, then the both of you exited the coffee shop. It was so cold outside that you could see your and Akaashi’s breath. You tucked your hand inside your pockets.

“Hey. Did you also tell the manager about Bokuto and Kuroo?” You asked him.

“Yes. Thank god she is also cooperative.”

“You really thought about this, huh?”

“Of course. However, tomorrow, it’s finally time for me to appear before my friends.”

“I think Bokuto will bawl his eyes out.”

The both of you laughed.

When your giggles subsided, Akaashi spoke. “So…”

“Yeah, uhm, I’ll go this way.” You pointed at the other path. “The cabs are this way.”

“Alright.”

“Thank you, Keiji. Goodbye.” You smiled at him and started to walk away. I like him, I like to know him more, but god, he just came from a breakup. If I get attached, that would count as taking advantage of a vulnerable person, right?! You overthink as you felt your heart getting heavy with every step you take. I am very much going to regret this tomorrow. Very much. You continued to walk down the narrow path, thinking about the many things that happened today.

You are seriously pondering when you suddenly hear Akaashi shout your name, making you stop in your tracks. You turned around and he immediately appeared from your view, running, and halted in front of you.

“W-wait.” He panted, catching his breath. “You told me to be honest with my feelings.”

You just blinked at him, already panicking on the inside.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Please input your phone number. I want to see you again.”

“B-but Tokyo is far from Miyagi --”

“Ah ah ah.” He copied the way you interrupted him earlier and smirked. “It will be worth the drive.”

You felt your heart beat faster as if it wanted to escape your ribcage. “Okay.” You mustered as you typed your number in his phone and thanked the gods that it is somehow dark or else he will see your tomato cheeks right now.

You looked up at him and handed him his phone with your cold, trembling hands.

“This not a fake number?”

“What? No.”

“Just making sure.” He smiled at you.

The moon has never been so bright that night.

#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #hq fanfic #hq akaashi #haikyuu songfic #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu time skip #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyū!!#haikyuu comfort #akaashi #akaashi scenarios

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lovethestars1966 · 3 years

Text

STEREK, falsely accused FBI CH17, complete

IT IS COMPLETE! Yo it is FINALLY finished. And I dead ass forgot to post it on here. It has actually been done for about a week so I am really sorry for my tardiness posting it here. Below is a small snippet of the epilogue,

WARNING does contain spoilers.

Also I apologise for the spelling and grammar errors, I always seem to miss a few.

I’ve put a keep reading because it’s a lot of words, hit that to read the full snippet and his the link to see Stiles crush it as a lawyer.

FINALLY, thank you all so much for the most amazing reviews and compliments, all of them undeserved. You are so fucking amazing and I can’t tell you how much this all meant to me!!! I love you all.

LINK

CH one:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31853854/chapters/78866347

Epilogue: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31853854/chapters/85028854#workskin

—————

“This is not going well,” Stiles hissed into Derek’s ear five days later, the last day of Gerard’s trial.

“Shh,” Derek hissed back, Stiles ignored him.

“Like on a scale of one to ten, one being the best outcome possible, and ten being them overthrowing the case and handing Gerard the presidency, this is a fucking one hundred,” he continued, and Derek turned to him with a quirked eyebrow.

“What could be worse making a sociopathic megalomaniac President?” Derek pondered quietly and Stiles looked to contemplate the question for a moment.

“Making him an omniscient ruler of the universe,” he suggested, and Derek nodded judgmentally.

“Yeah,” he muttered to himself, but loud enough for Stiles to hear, “it was my own fault for engaging.” Stiles frowned and pinched his side.

Suddenly there was a banging from the front of the room, “I will have silence in this courtroom,” Judge Ryder sneered towards them, “if you two are bored of these proceedings, please feel free to excuse yourselves.”

Stiles bit down on his snide response and slouched back into his seat defeatedly. From the corner of his eye he could see Gerard ginning manically, victory well within reach, but Stiles refused to give him the satisfaction of looking over.

Derek turned a bright shade of pink at being called out and choked out an apology that Stiles didn’t plan to echo. This whole trial had been a show.

“He’s just drunk on power,” Stiles huffed quietly once the rooms attention slipped back onto the defences expert they had on the stand, he was currently ripping their own expert testimony apart. Derek didn’t respond this time, just gave him a swift kick to the ankle in warning. “Ow,” he griped and glowered at his husband.

“The defence rests your honour,” one of Gerard’s many lawyers announced smugly and sent Derek and Stiles a mightily superior look as he sat down. Stiles doesn’t regret poking his tongue out at the man for a single second, not even if it earns him another ankle kick.

“And the prosecution?” Judge Ryder asks reluctantly, and turns to face their own team of lawyers the DA of Sacramento lent them. Babies, the lot of them. Stiles was sitting just behind the babies as it so happened, and so he was privy to their hushed conversation.

“Do you have anything?” The man asked leaning over to first chair, a woman in a clean cut pants suit who Stiles could tell really wanted to win, she just didn’t know how.

“After that?” She muttered in shock, “no way, we’ll just leave it for closing statements and finish it then,” he heard her whisper back, and Stiles was growling and then springing forward out of his seat faster than anyone could catch him.

He leaned over the railing, into their little brain trust and pulled both of their seats back until his head was neatly in the middle of them both, just as she was about to tell the judge their decision and hissing a little harsher than necessary.

“Don’t you fucking dare say that!” He whisper shouted, and the whole room erupted in hushed mumblings.

“Excuse me?” The woman balked back, shocked at his intrusion.

“Order!” Ryder yelled, banging his gavel incessantly, “order!”

“If you don’t discredit that testimony right now, you may as well make your closing statement a resignation letter, because no one will hire you after that.” He warns, and he sees a flare of anger shine in her eyes, for a second he thinks she’s going to do it just to spite him, but looking sideways at the jury, she turns back and leans in closer.

“What do you mean?” She asks genuinely interested, although clearly still pissed off.

“You cannot let that be the last thing the jury hears,” he tells her, a bit more calmly now that he knows he has her attention, “they will come into closing already on the defences side, do you know how hard it is to win a jury back with closing, harder than you can achieve I’ll promise you that.”

She growls at the challenge, “Well what would you suggest?” She demands.

“Anything is better than nothing,” he growls.

“Order!” Ryder orders again, and finally settles the court room down,

“Don’t let the the doctor go, cross-examine,” he pushes her, voice urgent. She rolls her eyes.

“And just what could I say up there that wouldn’t make him sound more convincing?” She questions clearly losing faith in him.

“Agent Stilinski!” Ryder calls commandingly, Stiles ignores him.

“Stiles,” Derek hisses more worriedly from behind him, “sit down,” he tries to tug Stiles back into his seat.

Stiles shrugs him off, “Look at his watch, his clothes, for fucks sake his tie pin has a diamond on it,” he growls, and both lawyers flick their eyes to the so called Doctor.

“Agent Stilinski, you have five seconds before I hold you in contempt!”

“Stiles is so badass,” Erica whispers to Lydia beside her.

“I still don’t understand,” the lawyer whispers back, eyes panicked now.

Stiles growls and hangs his head, “I don’t know his name,” he urges her and then lets Derek pull him back finally, and glares heatedly at Ryder.

“Are you finished?” The judge asks, rather condescendingly.

Stiles just holds his hands up as indication, refusing to speak.

Ryder looks disappointed that he couldn’t kick Stiles out, but looks back towards the prosecution lawyers who stare back wide eyed. “Well?” He prompts, “do you wish to release the witness or not?”

The woman freezes momentarily, and then looks back towards Stiles. Stiles bulges his eyes as an indication that she should do what he said already, and she gulps before placing her hands face down on the desk, and using them to heave herself up slowly.

Stiles reflected back on the expert witness and his testimony. He was clearly only here to throw doubt on all of their accounts, unfortunately he had done a very good job of it, and the look on the juries faces, prior to Stiles outburst, was very compelled.

His main schtick had gone along with the theme of Gerard’s entire defence, and that was, ‘the prosecution is mistaken’. He had given evidence that a person like Joseph could be mislead to believe he was following Gerard’s orders, that he was crazy, which was true, but not in that way. He had taken all of their testimonies into question by implying a lack of objectivity, and since this was just a trial on his involvement with Joseph they couldn’t use any of the evidence they had found connecting him to senators and joint chiefs to compound their argument, since that was a much more confidential trial.

Stiles closed his eyes and the woman, Cassidy Taylor, turned away from him and looked up at the judge. This was not going to go well.

“Your honour we do wish to cross,” She spoke shakily and Stiles cringed, he willed her to speak more confidently, not show any fear, and then suddenly, his wish was granted. “Yes,” she said with dawning realisation, “we do,”

Stiles flicked his head up, curious as to what caused this abrupt change, and saw her grinning over at him.

It would seem she had a plan. Stiles felt a tremor of nervousness run up his spine, because she seemed dangerously certain.

“We do,” she repeated, and then stepped out from behind the desk and made firm eye contact with the judge, it was enough to have even Ryder shifting in his seat, “but to do the cross, we wish to invoke emergency council.”

Stiles eyebrows flew to his forehead, and the courtroom, again, erupted into murmurs. That hadn’t been what he was expecting.

Derek looked to him with the same question in his eyes that was floating around Stiles mind, “does she mean you?”

#Sterek #sterek fic #Team Sterek #sterek fanfiction #sterek fics #Stiles #Stiles/Derek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles x derek #SCOTT AND DEREK ARE BROTHERS #related Scott and Derek #FBI BAU #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #complete

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prodtrouver · 4 years

Text

➾ The Criminal Who Loved

All he could do is run, hide, and live. He couldn't go to the town and always hid himself. After such accusation were made, the only person who could clear him is his brother, but he isn't there for him. What if a criminal finds a fairy who doesn't know him? What if he learns to love? Only for him to fear that will be taken away.

Pairing: runaway prince!Mark Lee x half fairy fem!reader

Other characters: mentions of Fairy!Renjun, Elf! Yeonjun and Huening Kai, Prince!Jeno, Baker!Haechan,

Genre/warnings: angst, fluff, running away, mentions of poison, mentions of traps,

No. of Words: 4.3k

The day felt longer than it was. The woods are quiet today which calmed you. The clouds that covered the blue sky, the strong breeze that was weakened by the tall trees; it was a long but peaceful day so far.

The flowers were gently plucked out from the ground to your basket. Your touch was so gentle, the other fairies found it amusing they couldn't feel it.

"Y/n! What do you think of today? Won't you go to the town?" A purple fairy sat on your shoulder. A soft smile on your lips as you softly shook your head. You gave her a dandelion,

"I have more important things to finish. I have no business in town," you softly spoke. You stood from the ground and begin to head back to your fellow fairies who took care of you.

Yes, you're a fairy, a half at least. You were trusted in their care, full of hopes you will protect them because you're one of the two who are human sized.

"Y/n is back! Y/n is back!" A tiny young fairy fled to you. Her small figure around your figure as you gently out the basket down for them.

"Yes, I'm back... Where is Renjun?" You asked, instantly while distracted, they pointed their fingers to the direction where the other is. You smiled, stood, and fixed your dress. "I will be back."

You searched for Renjun, the second fairy who protects the rest. The boy's pretty eyes are glued to the cloudy sky. He's the fairy who paints the skies, the truth to the saying of their world: 'Gods or Deities are responsible for the colors of the sky.'

"Why is Painter Fairy staring at his masterpiece today?" Immediately, he turned around to face you. A slightly serious expression on his pretty face.

"Y/n, there is this boy in this woods. He found the old cabin of your father. He lives there now," he said. Your eyes widen; A boy? Living in the cabin you grew up in?

"Who is this boy, Renjun? Is he bad?" You asked, your nervousness seen yet mostly covered by your courage.

"No, he is not. I could tell he is accused of something. Fear not, I will be here if you confront him." He patted your shoulder. You softly nodded your head, your heartbeat was rapid from the thoughts. Is the boy dangerous? Renjun said he could tell he was accused, what could it be?

"Y/n, you know what to do when you need me.",

You watched from a far as the boy exited the cabin. He combed his hazel hair with his hand as he sat on the stairs of the cabin. He looked at the dead leaves on the ground, his eyes glued there while his expression showed a troubled expression.

He stood on his feet again, he looked around, but your presence remained unknown to him. He returned inside the cabin and locked the door. You moved away from the tree and closer to the cabin. The boy was handsome, almost like a prince.

The way the sun glistened on his face. His shiveled hazel hair that reached his eyes lashes. He looked like a normal human and from his aura that you could feel, he is one. You placed your hand on the cabin wall but something else reflected light on your face.

You turned your head on the side, only to see a sheathed sword. You felt your heart freeze then you heard the door open.

There you are, standing in front of the human boy who looked surprised to see you. He glanced at his sword before he looked at you again. Immediately and by instincts, you backed away. Your figure was shaking and it was visible to his eyes.

"Do you... Live in this cabin?" He asked softly, and made sure you won't be terrified of him. However, he doubted that you live in the cabin for there was dust everywhere when he found it.

You, on the other hand, was still shaking. Your hand stayed close to your chest as you were ready to call Renjun for help. He observed your figure, you had h/c that matched your eyes. You looked magical yet mysterious to his vision.

"I won't hurt you, I swear," he said and moved a but closer. "Do you live in this cabin?" He asked and you nodded. His expression showed how surprised he is... He didn't expect that...

"But not anymore," you said with the left over courage you had. The more you stare at him, the more gentle he looks. You hoped he could say his name faster and as if he could read your mind-,

"My name is Mark Lee, I won't hurt you, don't worry.... Unless, you're one of them." He softly glared which made you take a step back. Judging from you acted just now, you aren't. Anyway, he knows his kingdom doesn't accept female guards nor assassins.

"Are you harmful? What's your objective? What are you doing here?" You asked but he just stared at you. "That's none of your business," he coldly said before he gets inside.

You know curiosity could be bad sometimes but the further you observe Mark, the more perks you notice of him.

The way he scrunched his nose when he couldn't do anything in one try or the way he clapped his hands when he successfully did something difficult. He's a funny and dorky boy, not to mention the way he treated animals is gentle as well.

You sat on the tree branch, your eyes glued on the boy who's feeding baby squirrels. You were surprised, amused with how beautiful the land has become when he came.

The dead leaves are gone, the pond beside the cabin looked cleaner. Flowers of different kinds are even blooming around the cabin. You never knew you would see this sight again of your old home.

However, other than his dorky side, he looks strong and cautious. You found it weird how he looks around every hour as if he's being hunted. You feel attached with the boy, even if it has only been days since you first talked to him.

"How is watching the boy, y/n?" An elf climbed in your shoulder and sat down. You gave him a sliced apple you have before you looked at Mark again.

"He isn't harmful, he takes care of the area very well. The animals loves him too," you smiled and the elf squinted his eyes.

"Don't be too distracted, y/n! He might be dangerous! Maybe, he knows you're watching, and acts nice, so you will think he's not dangero-,"

"Oh, quiet, Yeonjun. If he knew I'm watching then I'm pretty sure he would've talked to me or stopped me already. Therefore, do not overthink," you spat and left the tiny elf pouty and speechless.

"Maybe you should talk to him, y/n!" Another elf showed themself, this time he had a purple hat while Elf Yeonjun had orange.

"Should I?" You asked Elf Huening Kai who nodded. Yeonjun pulled your hair and shouted a 'no'.

"I think the boy there needs someone to be friends with!"

"I think the boy there deserves to be left alone!" Yeonjun said, grumpier from your words earlier. The two elves countinued to bicker while you take matters in your feet.

"Hold tight, little ones," you said and you begin to fidget. They immediately held onto your hair while you jumped down the tall tree. The elves screamed in fear, both afraid of heights while you kept a smile on your face.

As soon as your feet hit the leafy ground, Mark turned around. The surprised boy stared at you as he wondered where you came from.

"Y/n! Don't do that!!" He heard a voice from your shoulders. You chuckled and carefully get off the two elves who were shaking. You placed them on the wood railings of your old cabin while you looked at Mark.

"I'm impressed, you managed to make this lifeless are blossom again!" You said, you sweet smile distracted Mark from his wonders for a split second.

"Ah, yeah- wait, how did you- where did you come from?" He asked, his shocked expression still in his face. Quietly, you pointed at the tall tree where you sat.

"EH- You wouldn't be able to survive that fall!" Mark shouted and caused you to flinch.

"Hey, you big man! Yes, she can because our precious y/n is a half fairy! She can land on her feet like a cat!" Yeonjun pointed at Mark who looked even more shocked.

"Wow... Elves are real or is it a potion you drank?" Mark leaned closer to look at the 2 elves. Instantly, Yeonjun tried to punch his eye with his tiny fist but he was stopped by Huening Kai.

"I'm sorry, he can be feisty," the other elf apologizes while Yeonjun tries to get out of his grip. You sigh which caught his Mark's attention.

"I apologize for the little elf's behalf. Despite his small figure, he is pretty feisty. The gods made the right choice of making him an elf." You said and glared at Yeonjun who looked defeated.

Mark just laughed, still fascinated by the elves and you? A half fairy? He never even knew they exist until now.

"May I come in? I missed this place," you asked boldly, even though it's unknown where you got this confidence from. Mark thought for a few seconds but remembered, the cabin used to be your home.

"Sure,"

"Y/n! We're going with you!" Yeonjun shouted, only to be flicked on the forehead by you. Elf Huening Kai tried to hold his laughter while Yeonjun stayed pouty.

"I'll be back," you said and followed Mark inside the cabin. The cabin isn't really small but it isn't really big either. It was a decent size for a small family. She was in awe, it felt like she was living her past memories once more.

Mostly everything is still the same but certain things have been moved. Mark's gaze followed you as you looked around. The strings of his heart were pulled when a smile appeared in your pink lips.

You looked so happy and relieved, he didn't want to ruin it by calling your name. You mentioned you once lived there, you must have missed the cabin.

Now, he begins to wonder- do you know? Do you have an idea who he even is? Do you know what he did that caused him to stay here? He didn't want you to know, he didn't want to danger you nor your kind.

"Can I go upstairs?" You asked and he nodded. You immediately head upstairs while Mark stayed.

"Hey, you big man! Who are you? Where did you come from!?" He looked down to see Elf Yeonjun and Huening Kai behind him, trying to stop the older from speaking further.

"Yeonjun, stop it!" Huening Kai held the elf's arm. Mark kneeled down to look at the elves.

"I'm a runaway," Mark admitted, and this surprised the elves. Yeonjun stopped moving and Huening Kai's grip became lighter.

"I'm a runaway from the kingdom," he said once more. Yeonjun took a step back and shielded Huening Kai. Fear on the elf's face as he remembered what his fellow elf told him once.

"Are you the runaway who tried to poiso-,"

"Mark! Thank you for letting me in," you went back downstairs. You halted your steps in confusion when you saw the Yeonjun cowering in fear and a confused Huening Kai behind him.

"What's going on?" You asked, Mark shook his head as he quickly looked away.

"No problem, however, I think it's better if you three head back. Night is about to come, it might be too dangerous for you." Mark smiled and passed by you as he head to the bedroom upstairs.

You nodded, although he couldn't see you. He gently places Yeonjun and Huening Kai on your shoulders.

"Why do you look scared, Yeonjun?" You asked but he only shook his head.

"I saw a giant spider behind Mark earlier, so I got scared!" Yeonjun believably lied which made Huening Kai believe in him too.

Shortly, you left the area and head back home.

You walked down the busy streets of the town. A basket on your arm as you head to your favorite bakery. However, on your way there, you saw a few castle guards asking the townspeople.

"Excuse me, young miss," you flinched. You looked to your side, only to see a castle guard.

"Have you see the first prince?" The guard showed you a paper. A paper with Mark Lee drawn below the word: wanted.

Your eyes quickly scanned through the whole paper. Words like 'first prince' or 'attempted to poison the king' or 'ran away'... They all shocked you. Is that what Renjun meant? Is he accused or really did this?

"No, I did not but may I keep the flyer, sir?" You asked softly. Your heart shattering with the news but you didn't understand why. You watched Mark for days and he didn't seem harmful. You needed to know the answer. The guard accepted your request and gave you the flyer.

"Thank You," you mumbled and began to walk away. You forget about the bread, you want to talk to Mark about the truth.

You went back to the woods, away from the guards, away from the town, and on your way to find Mark. The trip took time but you were determined to get the truth out.

You felt your surroundings stop when you saw Mark. He looked so happy when he fed the baby squirrels and the way he chuckled when a parrot sat on his head. You asked yourself again: did he really try to do that?

"Mark," you called him from behind. He turned to face you, a smile on his lips while you looked sad and confused.

"Mark, did you... Did you really try to poison... Poison the king?" You asked, your voice as soft as a whisper. Mark stood still, his smile disappeared from his lips, and it was replaced with a frown.

"You really think I would do that?" He asked, the bowl on his palm was still full of bird seeds.

"I-I don't know, Mark... I barely know you..." You said and Mark slowly walked towards you.

"I was accused, y/n. I don't want to kill my own father. I was accused because they saw the bottle in my bedroom. I ran away, y/n... I ran away because I was scared," his frown never seemed to leave his face. You felt your heart break at how weak and broken his voice sounded.

"How should I know... How can you prove to me that you are innocent?" You didn't have the will to take a step back but he stood so close to you. He delicately took your hand and placed it in his chest.

"I saw a book in the bedroom of the cabin. It said that fairies, even half fairies can tell if people are lying by their pulse. If it's uneven, they are lying. Is my pulse uneven, y/n?" He asked which shocked you. You knew that but never got to experience it.

You close your eyes, suddenly, everything felt silent. You could only hear his heartbeat and it didn't feel uneven. Instantly, a relieving wave washed over your worries. You pulled your hand back as you stared at Mark.

"You... You're not lying," you say and Mark let out a soft chuckle.

"Why would I lie?" He said and you hugged him immediately. He was shocked about your actions but tilted his head when you pulled away.

"How are you going to clear your name? You're not even a criminal!" You spat, angrily. A pout on your lips while the frown was back on his face.

"My brother... Lee Jeno could clear my name because he was with me the whole day the incident happened. He helped me run away as well. If there's someone who could clear my name, it is him," Mark said and everything went silent.

The woods strong breeze weakened by the tall trees again. Birds chirped above you both while little animals played on the leafy ground.

You want Mark's name to be cleared, although you don't know why you're suddenly feeling like this.

A week have passed and everything was peaceful. You felt at peace with Mark, even other fairies and elves loved him.

Here you are with him, both sat on the blanket as you played with the animals and fairies around you two. You feel so close with Mark as if he has been your friend for a long time.

Although, it gave you feelings that you've never experienced before. You have read about it and it's the feeling of love.

They say a fairy who is in love could feel how quick their heart beats. They could hear the thumps of their in love heart. Mostly, they definitely feel safer and stronger with them. Although, you never really showed your magic in front of anyone, other than Renjun, and a potion maker.

"Y/n, you said that you used to live in this cabin. Why did you move out?" Mark asked you as he fed the young fox. You frowned and looked away at the horrendous memory that served as your nightmare.

"My mom was caught and my father was killed," you said, able to trust Mark with your past. Mark stiffned as he looked at you. The sad and pitiful expression on your face was heartbroing for him to look at.

"My mom was a fairy, she was trapped by some mere castle servant for the king. My dad chased after her, only to be killed in the process. I never knew what they did to my mother but the fairies could tell her presence is no longer in this world." You told Mark, your heart wrenched at the vision a potion maker once showed you.

The vision of how they trapped your mother and how they killed you father. It was traumatizing and it served a horrible memory to replay after years.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know that. All I knew was that my father hated fairies. I don't know why but my mother told us, brothers that fairies are just found in books. That's why, I never knew they existed," Mark said and gently patted your back for reassurance.

"I'm very sure they are in a place where they could rest peacefully. I am also sure that they are happy of their daughter growing healthy." Mark smiled which caused you to smile as well. You close your eyes and rest your head in his shoulder.

How could you tell him you're in love with a prince? With an accused prince who is known as a criminal? How can you tell your people and Mark Lee that?

"Y/n, if I return back to the castle, will you go with me?" He asked you and you felt your heart stop for a second. You open your eyes and stare at the boy. His warm brown eyes stared into yours as you think of an answer.

"Why should I go with you, Mark? You are a prince, I am a half fairy who has her village to protect." You softly spoke and once again, the dreaded frown appears on his lips.

"You're right... But what if my name never gets cleared?"

"It will be cleared eventually, Mark. People will know the truth," you said as he took your warm hand. Your soft hand grasping his rough ones. He pressed it over his chest.

"I like you, y/n... Ever since I told you the truth, I feel safer with you. I feel happier with you and I'm afraid that might be taken away from me as well." He cries and you feel your body shake. Immediately, you engulfed the boy in a hug.

"I won't be taken away, Mark. I like you too," you whispered and Mark pulled you closer to him. You smiled in his embrace as he caressed your cheeks.

"Fairy Y/n, will you do the honors of being with the oldest prince of the Dream Kingdom?" He stood up and reached his hand out towards you. You laughed and held his hand before you did a small courtesy.

"Of course, Prince Mark,"

It was midnight when you begin to feel weird. The boy was sleeping peacefully beside you, however, you aren't sure if you could stay any longer. You quietly rushed out of the cabin to warn everyone.

You waved your hand, pile of leaves flying a certain direction to call Renjun. You gently knocked on the trees until a bird comes out.

"Check what is coming," you whispered before it flew away. You turn around, whispering to the small animals to hide for their safety. You looked around throughly, in search for a fairy ring you could control.

"Y/n, I'm here- what do you need?" Renjun asked as he stood beside you. You pointed at the direction that was giving you weird feelings.

"I could feel men walking, a group of them but not many," you said as Renjun nodded. He waved his hand, the same thing you did but this time, the wind became stronger. It couldn't be stopped by the tall trees anymore.

He held onto your wrist, not interested in making you fly away.

"Y/n, can you extend the fairy rings?" Renjun asked as he kept the wind at the same strength. You used the rest of your energy for that day to extend the rings.

Suddenly, the bird arrived and stood on your shoulder. It begin to whisper about what it saw.

"Renjun, the guards left and only two are coming. Those 2 are the princes of the kingdom," you said and Renjun sighed. He stopped the strong wind, only to face you. He patted your head,

"I will be near when you need me. I will be watching from above," he stated before jumping on tree to another. The bird quickly fled after him. You stood there, on your guard as you wait for the 2 princes to come... They must be here for Mark.

"Are you y/n?" You jolted your head up and in your sight, you saw them. Both on their tall white horses as you nod their head.

"I'm Jeno and this is my younger brother, Jisung... I heard from a fairy that our older brother is here, may we see him-,"

"No need, I'm here now," you slightly flinched once you heard Mark's deep voice after woken up.

"Mark, we have evidence!" Jisung said, about to take a step until he saw the line of mushrooms in front of him. "A fairy ring, interesting," he leaned down and saw glitters around each mushroom.

"Jisung, don't get distracted now-"

"I know, I know- actually, why won't you tell him the good news?" Jisung smiled as he looked left and right to see where the ring formed. Jeno sighed at the attention span of his brother.

"We got the poison's bottle checked by a witch. The fingerprints on the bottle belonged to a woman elf. The witch also stated that these kinds of poison could only be brewed by witches and wizards." Jeno explained as you look at Mark for any reaction on his face.

"How will you explain this to father and the kingdom? They will think you're only doing this to cover my 'crime' and not everyone believes in witches and wizards. I think, you guys are lucky you even found one," Mark said but you shook your head.

"Witches and wizards are common if you are in the right area. I believe there are witches and wizards in your kingdom as well but kept it hidden." You explained as you remove the fairy ring. Jisung wowed at the magic you pulled while Mark was shook you actually have magic.

You walk towards them before you reached your palm out. The urge to see the bottle of the poison curious you. You feel like you know something that might lead you to the real criminal.

"Can I see the bottle?" You asked and Jeno handed it to you by the neck of the bottle. Your brows furrowed at the sight of the familiar bottle.

"It's woman but definitely not a witch," you returned the bottle. You look by the trees where you saw Renjun watching. You walked by one of the tall trees and knocked on the wood.

"Elf Yeonjun? Yeonjun, are you there?" You said and Yeonjun popped his head out of the small hole. Jeno and Jisung stood there, shocked.

"Yeonjun, do you know where this bottle came from?" Mark asked and showed the small elf the bottle. Immediately, Yeonjun examines the bottle and he nods his head.

"It's a bottle that belonged to the Potionmaker," Yeonjun said as you thanked the elf before he went back to his hole.

"The criminal is a woman but I don't think she's the one who brewed the potion. Anyway, for now, can you clear Mark's name?" You asked and Mark immediately held your hand.

"Clearing my name means coming back to the castle. I don't want to leave you here," Mark said with a sad face. You chuckled and kissed his lips,

"I will be alright, go back home, Mark."

You bid goodbye to the Potionmaker of the woods. His sweet and confused smile stayed on his lips after his explanation of the bottle. The bottle belonged to him but he doesn't remember brewing poison as he swore to never brew one.

It has been days since you saw Mark. You missed his cheerful voice and his loud laughs. You return back to the cabin and laughed when you saw the young fairies playing chase.

You halted your steps when you saw the familiar figure in the kitchen. You dropped the basket and hopped onto his back. He cackled a laugh,

"Missed your prince too much?" He asked and you moved to hug him from the front.

"Far too much..."

"Jeno has settled in with his significant other and he will be coronated as king soon. The king is alright with me living with my love," Mark said and you immediately connected your lips.

Mark smiled and pulled you closer to him.

"I love you, my prince," you whispered and he laughed.

"I was this accused criminal who fell in love with a half fairy. I love you too, my fairy."

#mark lee ff #nct dream mark #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee drabble #nct 127 mark #mark lee #mark lee nct #nct 127 imagines #nct dream imagines #nct dream ff #nct dream #nct 127 #nct 127 drabbles #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff

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confused-as-all-hell · 3 years

Text

Nesta Archeron

The world was beautiful, and she was so grateful to be in it. To be alive, to be here, to see this. She stuck out a hand over the railing, grazing a star as it shot past, and her fingers came away glowing with blue and green dust. She laughed, a sound of pure joy, and she cried more, because that joy was a miracle.

Nesta Archeron, fierce and bold and wonderful. The Kingslayer, a Queen of Queens, Lady Death. A girl who knew hatred by its true name, who slept with fear in her arms, who made mistakes and fucked up, and is still worthy of love.

Worthy of love.

Nesta is not by any shot perfect. She has made countless rude remarks and several poor choices. But she is portrayed as a flawed characters, and I adore her all the same. This post is not anti Nesta, but I am not blindly defending her mistakes, either. That being said...

For the first few chapters of ACOTAR, we see Nesta treating Feyre harshly, shaming her for having sex with Isaac Hale, remarking on the state of her body, insulting her scarce knowledge. She belittles her youngest sister constantly, makes her feel so awful that our sweet Feyre carries Nesta’s hatred with her everywhere.

Is this okay, by any twisted means? No.

Nes was not incapable of opening her heart; she cared deeply for Elain, and it was said she would do anything for her. Elain is equally at fault here, if not more so, but this is not her post and I will write of her another time. So Nesta stood by while her littlest sister was sent to her death, her misery for none but herself. Nesta is under no obligation to fawn over Feyre, but I do think she might have been civil at the least.

In the midst of ACOTAR, we learned Nesta had tried to seek Feyre, to save her from Prythian. That, no matter the bitter comments, Nesta went in the cold and icy and dark with a mercenary to try and find her sister. She left Thomas Mandry because she realized he would have not gone to Prythian.

Nesta’s soft, warm heart makes it first appearance, a bit of light to wash away the memory of her hatred. Does it justify her actions? Absolutely not. But we do realize Nes cares more for her youngest sister that she ever let on, and that cannot count for nothing.

That gentleness never shows again, replaced in favour of a merciless tongue and sharp disdain. We see the Inner Circle attempt to make peace with Nesta.

Mor made her attempt, complimenting Nesta’s dress, and in turn, she was shamed for her own revealing clothing. To Mor, who was so often ridiculed for her “slutty” clothing, this would have hurt impossibly.

Rhysand tried at civility, making idle conversation, and he was shunned instantly.

Cassian teased and joked with her; this was his way of saying “I’m friendly, I won’t hurt you.” His smile was a ressurance. His laughter was a tether.

I’m not saying Nesta was supposed to instantly embrace the IC. I’m simply saying they tried with her; they extended their hands and love. You cannot blame them for being hurt at her constant hatred.

In ACOSF, we see the return of cold, cruel, heartless Nesta. She is drinking herself into a stupor and going home with strangers every night; these are not bad things. Sex is healthy and fun, and drinking is fine so long as it’s done responsibly. But they’re awful coping methods.

As someone who fiercely loves Nesta and relates to her, it was truly good of Feyre to intervene. If my own little sister hadn’t involved herself in my trauma, I’m unsure if I would be alive today.

Was Nesta right to be angry? Yes.

Did I wish the IC had left her alone? No.

Nesta may have fucked up, but she learned for those mistakes. The very first time she admits she loves someone, it’s to Feyre. When given the choice to run, she stands her ground to protect fiery Gwyn and lovely Emerie. She makes her apologies to the Inner Circle, and while I agree she does not have much to be sorry for, if apologizing will bring her peace, she has every right to it.

I began as a Nesta anti, who hated her with my whole being. She claimed to be unlovable, people loved her anyways; I was jealous. I have always been proud and furious, and my family hated me for it. I, like Nesta did, do not believe myself to be worthy of kindness. It just never occured to me I might be able to forgive myself for my trauma.

So while Nesta did some awful things, I can understand her. I can love her and hold her accountable. I can defend her and admit she was wrong. Being a Nesta stan means forgiving what Nes did to deal with her trauma, and it means adoring how far she’s come.

We can’t live off our hatred forever. Nesta made peace with her past. I think it’s time the fandom does the same.

Nesta Archeron is worthy of friendship and her younger sisters.

She is worthy of her mate, who will give her the world on a chain, or perhaps a bed.

She is worthy of kindness and happiness and respect.

She is worthy of love.

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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years

Text

the sins of the father

pairing: prince!bucky barnes x pirate!reader

word count: 10,095

summary: You were nothing more than the Siren, the She-Demon of the Seas. At least, that’s what you thought.

warnings: POORLY WRITTEN SMUT PLEASE FORGIVE ME IDK WHAT I’M DOING. AND BAD WORDS.

a/n: So like. I’m real nervous about this one. Let me know what you think.

“Captain! Captain!”

Waves crashed up against the side of the ship, dark clouds covering the sky. There was the promise of a storm on the wind, though it wouldn’t come for a few days, you were sure.

“It’s a perfect day for sailing, don’t you think?” You asked as you leaned against the railing of the ship, taking your spyglass away from your eye.

The footsteps that had been hurrying to you stopped a few feet away. “Captain, there’s a ship on the horizon. Royal Navy.” From the voice, you could tell it was Peter. Sweet, sweet Peter.

“Oh, really?” You said as you stared out towards the white caps. “And which Royal Navy is it?”

“Ithair.”

Now that… That piqued your interest. “Ithair, you say?”

The large kingdom was one of the most powerful in the world currently. Their Navy was tough. It was up there alongside Sonia.

But not as tough as your men.

“They’re coming up on the port side,” Peter says, his feet nervously shuffling as he stands before you.

“Thank you, Peter,” you said as you fixed your jacket. You knew he was waiting for orders, but you made him wait just an extra minute or two. “Tell the men to get ready. We’re taking this one.”

Your men were always thrown into a dither anytime you gave the order to get ready for an attack. The excitement in the air was palpable. From your spot on the stern, you could see the men on the other ship rushing around just as hurriedly, clearly worried by the sight of your flag flying high in the sky.

You were the most feared pirate in the seven seas. And for good reason, too. You took what you wanted with no apologies. You were ruthless.

That wasn’t to say you were without honor, though. You had rules.

No women. No children. If a man surrenders, allow him his life. He’s already lost his dignity.

But the Royal Navy, well… They didn’t allow women or children on board, and they didn’t tend to surrender. They were stubborn like that.

“Get ready, men,” you shouted above the rabble as you unsheathed your jewel encrusted cutlass. Your left hand touched the handle of your dagger that your kept strapped to your thigh, ensuring that it was there.

You’d never lost a fight before and you weren’t planning on it now.

As the fight began, you stood above it all, peering down at them like a merciless god.

Your men invaded their ship with ease, taking down any of those who would dare stand against them. Navy men were relatively easy to take down. They got big egos from wearing a uniform, as though wearing a blue coat with some fancy buttons made them better than anyone else.

You walked along the edge of the stern, frowning as your eyes caught on something rather peculiar.

A man not in a Navy uniform. Interesting.

“Peter,” you called out to the young man, who had just finished off a man on the deck below.

He climbed up the stairs quickly, wiping the blood on his cutlass off on his breeches. “Yes, Captain?”

“Who is that man?” You asked, pointing towards the dark-haired man you’d spotted.

Peter had spent many years at the Ithairian court before his parents and uncle died in a fire. His Aunt May hadn’t been able to keep up with the running of the family estate, and the king had cast them out, making them peasants. The young man had joined your crew soon after and sent all the money he made from you and your crew’s raids back to May.

He squinted as he looked at the man, before realization bloomed in his eyes. “That’s Crown Prince James.”

“Oh, really?” You said as you eyed the man, lazily twirling the jeweled cutlass in your hand. “And tell me, Peter… How much do you think the King and Queen of Ithair would pay to get their precious son back?”

It didn’t take much to get the Navy ship to surrender.

Once they realized you were holding their precious prince captive, they became rather docile, actually.

You’d had Peter lure him over to your ship, playing as though he hadn’t a clue what he was doing, a poor clueless orphan that had been kidnapped by pirates and held aboard the infamous Medusa’s Revenge.

The prince’s heart was too pure for his own good.

Once he was close enough, you’d snuck up behind, forcing him to his knees with a swift kick. Both ships had gone silent once they realized you were holding a blade to his throat while Peter tied his hands.

“You tricked me,” Prince James spat at Peter, his face twisted in a scowl.

“I was simply following the Captain’s orders,” he said, which brought his attention to you.

You kept your sword to his throat, teasing the soft, smooth skin there with the dull side of the blade. “RETURN TO YOUR KING,” you shouted to the Captain of the Navy ship, a man by the name of James Rhodes that was glaring daggers at you. You deepened your voice in a way that you had rehearsed over and over. “AND TELL HIM THAT HE MAY HAVE HIS PRECIOUS HEIR BACK ONCE I RECEIVE PAYMENT.”

“This is outrageous!” Rhodes shouted back at you. His blue Navy coat and white shirt was splattered in blood. “You can’t make demands of the King!”

“Oh, really?” You said, a sadistic grin tugging at your lips. “If you won’t tell him of my demand, then you can tell him why his only heir’s blood is spilled all over my deck and why his body was tossed to the waves.”

He kept his dark eyes narrowed on you, as though he was expecting you to back down.

You narrowed yours in return, the playful teasing disappearing as you snarled, “Try me, Captain.”

The air was heavy as the others waited for his response. Finally, he gritted his teeth and asked, “How much?”

“£50,000.”

Rhodes choked on air as he stared at you in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am,” you said as you bent low, your cheek pressed to the prince’s, who squirmed. “I’ll be at the Rimora port in a month. Some of my men will meet you there to collect the money before we release the prince to you. Come alone, or you’ll be getting a head.”

The man had no choice but to agree. He nodded stiffly, before ordering his remaining men back to the Navy vessel.

They couldn’t win the battle even before you captured the prince.

You waited until the Navy ship was sailing back to Ithair to remove your cutlass from Prince James’s throat. “Please accept my most sincere apology, Your Highness,” you said with only a tinge of sarcasm, sheathing your sword. “I didn’t have to fight in this battle, so at least I didn’t drip blood all over your fine silk shirt.”

“How kind of you,” he said, fixing his startling blue eyes on you.

“I don’t believe we’ve officially met,” you said as you took off your hat with a flourish, curtsying. You had piled your hair atop your head to tuck under the cap and flattened your chest with a specially made corset. From a distance, you appeared to be a man. Up close, your gender was more obvious, but you could still pass as a rather feminine man. You gave him your name, before quickly adding, “I’m the Captain of this fine vessel.”

Prince James’s eyes widened as he stared at you. “You’re the Siren,” he whispered. “You’re her.”

Raising your eyebrows, you glanced over at your first mate, Sam, who shrugged. “The Siren?” You said, turning back to the prince. “What kind of fucking name is that?”

“The Siren,” he said, as though it were obvious. “The She-Pirate. The She-Demon of the Seas. You lure men to their deaths with a bat of your eyelashes.”

“She-Demon?” You repeated, pursing your lower lip. Facing Sam, you fake pouted. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

“You and I both know you’re much worse, Captain.”

You couldn’t stop the sly smile from creeping up on your face, though your heart twisted. “I do quite like that name though. The Siren. It’s fitting, don’t you think?” You placed your hat back on your head, already walking away from your new prisoner. “Tie him to the mast,” you called back. “I’ll decide what to do with him later.”

Later turned out to be three days.

Prince James stayed tied to the mast, refusing to talk to anyone. When you would approach to speak to him, he’d simply pretend you weren’t there, looking out at the waves. The only person he would even slightly acknowledge was Peter, and that’s because you’d send him to the prince three times a day with food and water.

It was also kind of hard to ignore the boy, with how much he talked.

“Are you always this rude to hosts, Your Highness?” You asked at one point on the second day.

Though he didn’t look at you, his jaw had clenched so tightly that you were sure his teeth would shatter.

“Some prince you are,” you said mockingly, curtsying before returning to your perch at the wheel.

But then the storm you had predicted the day you’d first captured him arrived.

It was the worst one you’d seen in months, sheets of rain coming down hard. Waves crashed into the bow of the ship as you steered into them. Luckily you had a pretty heavy cargo underneath, making it harder for the wind to knock you over and you’d managed to get the sails secured in time, which made your job a whole lot easier.

You were no stranger to surviving storms.

Your heart jumped in your throat as you realized that the prince was still tied to the mast, soaking wet and unable to move. “Fuck,” you swore as you searched for a crew member who wasn’t doing their best to keep water off the deck. “PETER!”

The boy looked up from where he’d been using a bucket to toss some of the collected water overboard.

“UNTIE HIM!”

He knew who you were talking about immediately, running to the main mast and untying the prince.

Your hair stuck to your skin, salt water stinging your eyes as you shouted, “GET HIM BELOW DECK!”

You didn’t see the prince again until hours later, when the storm had died down. You and your men were utterly exhausted. You’d been at the helm the entire duration of the storm, and your arms were aching, despite your years of experience.

Sam had offered to take over for you, allowing you the rest you so desperately needed.

You dragged yourself to your quarters, ready to change into a set of dry clothes and collapse into bed.

But when you entered your office, you were surprised to find Prince James on the chaise lounge that you’d acquired on one of your raids. He was half asleep, his arm hanging off the side.

You cleared your throat, frowning when he didn’t stir. You did it again, a little louder.

Nothing.

Fed up, you shoved his leg, glaring down at him as he jerked awake. “What the hell are you doing in my office, Your Highness?” You spat his name out at him like it was an insult.

“This is where Peter told me to stay until after the storm was done,” he said, glaring right back.

“Did you lay all over my nice chaise in your soaking wet clothes? Or did you at least wait until you were dry?” You asked, rolling your eyes.

Prince James scoffed. “Of course, I did. I’m not a heathen, unlike someone.”

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness,” you said, mocking him with an over-exaggerated bow. “What ever can I do to make your stay more pleasurable?”

“Are you always like this?” He asked as he watched you move around the office.

Stripping off your overcoat, you tossed it on the chair. “Like what?”

“Overly sardonic?”

Your white shirt was sticking to your skin and your corset underneath. God, you wanted nothing more to get out of the restricting piece of clothing. You’d been in it for hours, since before the storm began, but you couldn’t do that with him there. You had to wait until you were really ready to retire to your bedroom for the night.

“Are…” Prince James paused, his brows furrowing. “Are you wearing a corset?”

“And here I thought you were unobservant,” you said as you grabbed the journal you kept from the center drawer.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you wear a corset?”

Sighing, you dabbed your feather ink pen on the tip of your tongue before dipping it in the ink pot. Truthfully, you could wait to do your journal entry until the morning–you’d actually been planning to, since you were so exhausted–but for some reason, you just kept stalling. You could simply go to your room and lock the door, avoiding the prince’s company and his subsequent questions, but you didn’t. “If we run into new ships, it’s better for them to think me a man, so I had a few corsets specially made,” you said softly, biting your lip as you scribbled down details of the storm. You’d take inventory of what all had been damaged in the morning.

“Why?”

Huffing, you snapped, “Maybe your parents won’t pay the ransom just so they can get away from your endless questions.”

“They’re not nearly as interesting.”

Startled, your eyes flickered up to meet his, your cheeks hot. You quickly turned your gaze back to the journal, shaking your head. “Royalty rarely is these days.”

“So?” He prodded. “The corset?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, signing off on the journal entry. “Men don’t respect women. I don’t want them to underestimate me just because I was born with a pair of tits and a cunt.” You slapped the journal shut, shoving it back in the drawer. “Besides, women are considered bad luck on ships. It took my crew a while to stop believing in the superstition and accept me as their Captain.”

“That superstition only came about because people believe sailors will get distracted from their duties by a woman’s beauty,” Prince James said, watching you curiously. In his exhausted state, he seemed to forget his filter as he added, “Though I can’t imagine how anyone can not be distracted by you.”

“Who wouldn’t get distracted by the She-Demon of the Seas?” You bit back, a sarcastic smile on your lips. Before he could respond, you headed for the door that stood behind your desk, leading to your bedroom. “You may sleep there until one of the bunks opens up. Or your parents pay your ransom.” Standing in the doorway, you turned back to look at him. The light coming in from the setting sun cast a glow upon his face. He looked like an angel straight out of a stained glass window in a cathedral.

You shut the door, a soft, “Goodnight, Captain,” coming from the other side of wood as you flipped the lock.

Prince James stayed on your chaise for two weeks, and it didn’t seem like he would be leaving anytime soon. All the other bunks on the ship were taken, filled with your crew.

And you weren’t so cruel to force him to go back to sleeping outside, tied to the mast.

Even though sometimes he was so annoying that you seriously considered it.

You’d stopped by a small port town and while none of your men had abandoned ship and opened up a bunk for him, you did grab him a few sets of clothing, a few pillows, and an extra blanket.

Thankfully, he didn’t make any comments on how they weren’t up to his royal standards, because otherwise you probably would’ve fed him to the sharks.

Then again, he hadn’t made any comments like that after the first few days. In fact, he’d been rather… sweet. His demeanor had swiftly changed after you’d allowed him to be untied from the mast. It wasn’t like he could go anywhere, after all.

Other than the depths of the sea, and you didn’t think he loathed your company enough to drown himself.

Maybe.

“You like him,” Sam said as he passed you a mug of mead, the liquid frothing over the side.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said as you took a long swig, glancing around the deck. It was a calm night at sea, there was no sign of ships on the horizon.

It was a good night to let loose and live a little. Usually, you’d allow the men their drink but wouldn’t partake in it. You’d retire to your quarters before they got too rowdy, though you always heard the music they played late into the night.

James had started joining them a few nights after the storm, when you stopped tying him up.

Some nights, he came to your quarters so late that you were already in your bedroom, though you never could sleep before you were sure that he was on the chaise for the night. You’d lie awake in bed, your corset off, and listen for the tell-tale opening and closing of the door.

Most nights, though, you’d still be sitting at your desk. Whether you were flipping through papers and maps, writing in your journal, or reading from your massive collection of books, it didn’t matter. He’d sit with you and talk. Whether it was for a few minutes or sometimes hours, you’d talk and talk, and you would laugh.

And sometimes, you even felt like a woman. The way his eyes would sparkle in the dim light of the candles sometimes made you think he saw you as more than a captain of a pirate ship.

But that was impossible. Because he was a prince, the heir to one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world, and you were nothing but a She-Demon.

“Don’t play coy,” Sam said as he nudged your shoulder. He wasn’t blind to the way you were watching James joke around with your crew. He was laughing at some joke that Scott made, his head throne back.

“I’m not,” you said sternly. Suddenly, the mead in your cup seemed even less appealing than poison. You handed it to Sam as you stood, brushing off your breeches. “I’m going to turn in. Goodnight.”

Your first mate called after you, though you didn’t turn around. You needed to get away. You needed to get away from Sam and James and the rest of the crew and maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to get away from the feelings that had been blooming in your chest the last two weeks.

You were so stupid. James would never like you, never want you the way you wanted him. You were so stupid for trying to twist your hair into the latest fashions or buying skirts to wear around the ship. You were wearing one now, the loose fabric ending at your shins. Even though it wasn’t nearly as formal as the skirts most ladies wore–especially the ladies at court that James was most used to–it was still a skirt. Even Peter had made a comment that was also sort of a compliment.

But it didn’t matter. It was impractical for a Captain of a pirate ship, and you were stupid for it.

He wouldn’t ever see you as you wanted him to.

Your quarters felt so empty without James there. There were little signs of him all over the room. The two pillows on the chaise, the fur blankets that rested half on, half off. The little stack of his clothing that you’d bought for him. He’d been reading one of your books lately and had left it on the small table by the chaise, a hair ribbon that you’d given him tucked between the pages as a bookmark. It was a new one, Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe, that you’d picked up the same stop you’d gotten his things at.

God, your desk was a mess. Maybe that’s what you could do, you could organize your papers instead of thinking about the way your heart skipped a beat every time you saw the dark-haired prince.

“Captain?”

Speak of the devil.

You turned to see James standing there in the doorway, his fair features illuminated by the candle light. The white shirt he donned was left open, revealing dark hair splattered across his chest. Clearing your throat, you turned your eyes back to the papers on your desk. Your hands were shaking as you tried to organize them, doing your best to ignore how your heart pounded. “Shouldn’t you be drinking with the men and making merry?”

“I have their company every night, they can do without me for a while,” he said, chuckling a little. But when you didn’t laugh with him, he grew quiet. “Captain?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Don’t do that,” he said, taking slow, measured steps towards you.

“Don’t do what?”

He stopped by the edge of your desk, his fingers trailing along the dark wood. “Don’t shut me out. Please.”

Your conversation with Sam from earlier rang loud and clear in your mind. “I’m not shutting you out, Your Highness,” you said sternly, avoiding his gaze as you shuffled through the papers. “Do you wish to get ready for bed? If you do, I can be out of your way in just a moment.”

“No.”

The silence between you was tense as you finally looked up at him. “What do you want, Your Highness?” You asked, hoping he didn’t notice the way your voice wavered.

“You.”

A stunned silence filled the room, your mind going completely blank.

“Surely you can’t be serious,” you said finally as you finally looked up at him, your brows furrowed and your lips twisted in a frown.

“I am.” His blue eyes still shone as bright as the moon reflecting off the sea in the dim light. He whispered your name as he came closer. “Please…”

Shaking your head, you grabbed the papers and turned to shove them in a random drawer, your heart beating against your rib cage like a drum. You were terrified that if he were to look you in the eyes, he’d be able to see the things you felt for him. You’d be done for. A laughing stock. Forget being the Siren, the She-Pirate, the She-Demon of the Seas, you’d just be another woman whose name wouldn’t be uttered without being attached to a man’s. The history books would simply remember you as a prince’s pirate whore, an anecdote before moving onto the story of whatever princess he’d end up marrying.

You jumped in surprise as he came up behind you, his chest pressed to your back. “Your Highness–”

“Please,” he said, his breath hot against your ear. “Don’t run from me.” His hands gently covered yours where they rested desk, his fingertips trailing ever so gently from your wrists up to your shoulder. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured. He spoke your name like a prayer, like it was the one thing that might grant him the grace of whatever god was looking down upon the two of you.

You weren’t sure you were breathing. Your heart had jumped into your throat and taken residence there and oh, his touch felt like fire on your skin.

“Say my name?” He pressed a kiss to your hair, his right hand toying with the loose sleeve of your shirt. “Please.”

He didn’t order you the way a prince would, the way he would’ve when he was first brought onto your ship. No. He asked. And more than that, he asked kindly. He asked as though it would sincerely bring him joy to hear his name falling from your lips.

“James,” you said, your lips curling around the unfamiliar letters as you said his name for the first time.

He let out a content sigh as your loose sleeve fell, exposing soft skin. “Again,” he said as his head dropped to press sweet, almost innocent kisses to your shoulder. His left hand moved to your hip as his lips traced the freckles he found.

“James, please.” Your eyes fluttered shut as your head lolled to the side, granting him access to the smooth expanse of your neck.

“Please, what?”

“Please touch me.”

A growl reverberated in his throat as his hand slowly bunched up your damned skirts, exposing your bare thighs to the cool air, his calloused fingers tickling your soft skin. You could feel a smirk against your neck as he found you bare underneath. “Oh, darling,” he murmured.

“J-James,” you stammered, your knuckles white as you gripped the desk.

“Yes, love?” He asked, one finger daring to tease your folds. “Fuck, you’re already so wet. Is that for me? Huh? Is that for me?”

“Yes. Yes. All for you.” Your breath was already so labored as you felt your knees go weak.

He reached down, and with one swoop, scooped you up into his arms. “Not here,” he said when you looked at him in surprise. “There will be time to take you on your desk later, Captain, but not now.” He kicked the door that led to your private chambers open, his mouth finding yours as he carried you inside. Moonlight filtered in through the portholes that lined the wall, illuminating the small room. He laid you down on your unmade bed as though you were made of porcelain, his hand cradling your head as he laid it on the pillow.

You’d never been treated so gently, touched as though you might break.

You were not a delicate woman, after all. You were made of the harshest storms, the highest waves, of salt and brine. You held your own when it came to battle. Your crew, your men, loved and respected you. You fought for that.

But fuck, if being treated so softly didn’t bring tears to your eyes.

James stood before you as you leaned on your elbows, watching as he stripped off his loose white shirt, revealing miles of tanned skin and that smattering of dark curls on his chest that had teasing you just a few minutes before.

You breathed out his name as he kicked off his boots, his eyes never leaving your face.

He stood before you in just his breeches, breathing heavily as he looked at you. “I’m going to take my time with you,” he said as he kneeled on the edge of the bed, crawling towards you.

“Oh?” You said as you swallowed around the lump in your throat. You were still trying to process how he could look at you like you were the most precious gem in the world.

James unlaced your boots, letting them fall off the bed. “I’m going to spend all night worshiping you,” he said as he pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your ankle. The beard that he’d grown while on your ship tickled your skin as he trailed his lips up your calf. “My darling girl. My sweet angel.”

Your skin felt like it was on fire as he kissed up your leg, getting closer and closer to the place you so desperately needed.

He stopped at your knee. “May I?” He asked as he tugged on your linen skirt, his eyes smoldering in the dim light. He waited until after you nodded to strip you down, leaving you bare on the bed. When you moved to cover yourself, face hot from the heat of his gaze, he stopped you, grabbing your wrists and holding them back. “Don’t hide yourself from me, my darling.”

With a surge of urgency, you pushed yourself up, your lips crashing into his.

James melted into you, his hand moving to cradle your head as he kissed you. His free hand cupped your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

It took you a moment to realize that the whimpering was coming from you.

He broke away to kiss along your jaw, down your neck, to the valley of your breasts. “Fuck,” he said as he swirled his tongue around the nipple that wasn’t being teased by his fingers. He nipped at it lightly before moving to the other, not stopping until both were hard.

You were even more shocked when he licked a stripe down the center of your stomach, stopping when he reached the patch of curls between your legs. “Wh-What are you doing?” You asked, propping yourself up against the pillows.

“Has no one ever touched you like this?” He asked, blue eyes meeting yours. When you shook your head, cheeks flushed, he frowned. “When’s… When’s the last time you were touched at all?”

Shrugging, you tried to close your legs, but he kept them parted. “A while,” you murmured, trying to hide how embarrassed you were.

In truth, it had been more than a year. And it hadn’t exactly been good. Just a one night tryst in a little port town with a man who thought he was better than he actually was.

None of your experiences with men had made you too eager to go out and try to find your pleasure. They all seemed so… selfish.

“Men don’t really like women that are more powerful than them,” you said, avoiding his gaze.

His index finger hooked under your chin, and he tilted your head up so your eyes met his. “I’ve never desired someone more than I do you,” he breathed. His nose nudged yours before stealing another soft kiss. Before you could stop to think, he was back down between your legs, nosing at your curls. His hot breath tickled your most private area before his tongue swiped through your folds.

You jerked in surprise, eyes blown wide. “James!”

“Shh,” he said as he coaxed you back down. Using two fingers, he revealed yourself to him. “You’re so pretty…” Using a flat tongue, he lapped at the wetness he found, eyes closing.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you sat up on one elbow, determined to watch him. You’d never had a man… taste you like he was. “O-Oh…”

There was a slight sting as he sunk one finger into your heat, carefully curling it. It had been much too long since you’d been touched.

It had been a long time since you’d lost your virtue, but you certainly felt like a virgin again.

“I’ve gotta get you opened up for me,” he said before finding your tiny bundle of nerves and sucking hard.

You saw stars as your jerked in his grip, feeling yourself growing closer and closer to something but not quite knowing what. Wonton moans dripped from your lips as you crept along the edge. You weren’t sure what you needed other than James.

“That’s it, darling,” he said, slipping another finger in and carefully scissoring you open. “That’s it. You’re doing so perfect for me.”

His tender words, mixed with the feeling of his thick fingers inside you and his tongue and how long it had been sent you over the precipice.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, watching with hooded eyes as James slowly withdrew his fingers. The wet digits sparkled in the light as he brought them to his mouth, sucking them off with a moan.

As he pushed his breeches down, you were suddenly hyper aware of just why he needed to prepare you so thoroughly.

He was thick. Long, sure, but it was the girth of him that made you pause. You’d had men before, but none of them quite as gifted.

“Is… Is that going to fit?” You asked, swallowing around the lump that had jumped in your throat.

“Yes,” he said as he crawled between your legs, dropping open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of your stomach. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll go slow.”

You drew him into a kiss, sloppy and deep and hoping it would convey the words that you were too afraid to say.

His cock teased the slick folds of your cunt before carefully sinking in inch by inch.

“James,” you moaned as you clutched onto him, your nails digging into the taut muscles of his back. The stretch you felt around his cock was painful, but pleasant.

Yeah, it had definitely been too long.

“That’s it, darling, relax,” he said, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

You bit your bottom lip so harshly you could taste iron. Your breath mingled with his as he sank in to the hilt, his nose nudging yours. You were almost kissing. But instead, he teased you, keeping his rose petal lips just out of reach.

He rested there for a moment, the both of you adjusting. The waves crashed up against the side of the ship, providing a rather pleasant underscoring to the labored breaths that filled the air.

When you were finally ready, you experimentally rolled your hips up against his, causing his icy blue eyes to pop open.

“Damn it, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moaned as he carefully pulled out before pushing all the way back in. He kept his thrusts slow and deep, relishing in the feeling of you squeezing around him. “You were made for me, weren’t you, darling?”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him close as your fingers threaded into his hair. “Don’t tease me,” you said, pulling him into a kiss.

“As you wish,” he said, picking up the pace.

His deep, raspy moans mixed with yours, creating an unheard symphony as the two of you collided. Bass and soprano. Man and woman. Lover and lover.

There was no doubt in your mind that your crew knew what was happening behind closed doors, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as he rocked into you. Their raucous laughter was nothing but static in the back of your mind.

You felt like you were on fire. Every part of you was alight.

You couldn’t be sure how long you spent underneath him. Time was completely lost between sweet kisses and soft murmurs, things he whispered to you but couldn’t quite make out. Sometimes you would catch a glimpse of the moon through one of the portholes as it rose higher and higher in the clear night sky.

You saw stars as he pushed you over the edge yet again, leaving you gasping his name.

You clenched around him and James groaned, his nails digging into the soft skin of your back. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna–” He broke off as he pulled out of you just in time for thick, creamy white ribbons to decorate your stomach and thighs. He stayed bent over you, his forehead resting against yours, as he fought to catch his breath.

A giggle escaped your lips, your chest heaving as you stole a kiss.

Even after what you’d just done, it still made you nervous. It was so… intimate.

A slow smile tugged at his face as he returned the affection. “I love you, my angel,” he whispered into the soft skin of your neck.

Three little words. All it took was three little words to jolt your system.

You pushed him off of you, your heart pounding as you grabbed the closest shirt you could find, throwing it on. It was definitely his, judging by how it hung off of you. “Don’t mock me,” you snapped, glaring at him.

This was all a mistake. He had seen it in your face, how you felt about him. You had become what you always feared you would be, just a silly girl who wouldn’t be anything more than a prince’s pirate whore.

His blue eyes were wide with surprise as he watched you. “What in Heaven’s name are you going on about?” He asked, trying to step towards you. He was still completely bare, and it took everything in you not to give in and go to him.

But you wouldn’t be made a fool.

“You got what you wanted,” you said, a snarl on your lips. “Go. Leave me be. You may tell all the men of the court that you bedded the She-Demon of the Seas. You don’t have to dig the knife in anymore.”

He narrowed his eyes, grabbing his breeches. “Is that what you think of me?” He let out a harsh laugh that was more of a cry than anything. “Do you truly think me so horrid that I would bed you for the sheer novelty of it?”

“Men are all the same.” You threw one of his boots at him, feeling very much like a feral cat backed into a corner. “You say all the things you know I want to hear just so you can get between my legs.”

You were lashing out. You knew. You weren’t stupid.

But you couldn’t allow yourself to be so… hysterical. You would lose the respect of your men, your crew, if they knew that you were throwing a fit.

You willed yourself to go flat, your eyes cold and your lips pressed into a thin line. You would be composed, collected. “Get out of my room,” you bit out.

James stood there, looking a little lost. He held his breeches to his chest like an anchor. “What?”

“Get out of my room,” you repeated. “Before I have one of my men throw you out.”

You wouldn’t let any of them see you so naked, but he didn’t need to know that. As far as he knew, you were willing to let every single crew member see you naked if it meant he would be out.

He swallowed, leaving the room with a stiff nod. “Fine.”

The door shut behind him, and you quickly brought your hand to your mouth. Your teeth clamped around your fingers as you tried to muffle the sob that tore from your throat.

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be so weak.

This is what you got for letting him in, for letting him see you.

You quickly dressed, wiping away the dried remnants of him left on your body. You pulled on your breeches, making a mental note to toss those stupid fucking skirts overboard the first chance you got.

Taking a glance in the mirror, you wiped at your eyes. Thankfully, they weren’t too puffy.

You could cry later.

You came out of your room, appearing very much unbothered.

James had redressed, though he had a new shirt since his old one was in the corner of your room. He stepped forward, his lips moving as though to speak your name.

Before he could make a sound, you were crossing the room, opening the door. You were greeted with the lively sounds of music and laughter from the men still enjoying their night. “Sam,” you called out, catching your First Mate’s attention.

“Captain!” He said with a joyous laugh, waggling his eyebrows. “I didn’t expect to see you out of your quarters again tonight!”

“Gather the money needed for a horse,” you said, your tone causing the smile to drop from his face. “We will dock in Marolan in two days. We will give His Highness a horse to get back to his people.”

“What?” Sam said, his brown eyes wide. “Why? What about…” He trailed off, thinking better about what he was going to say. “What about the ransom money?”

You breezed past him, heading for the stern. You had a feeling you wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, and it would be better to be at the helm and let the salty sea air calm you than toss and turn in your bed for hours. “There are easier ways to get that kind of money than dealing with a prince.”

James called your name, having followed you out of your quarters. “Don’t do this,” he said.

The rest of the crew went quiet, having noticed that something was going down. The music that had rung through the air dissipated.

“I’m not doing anything, Your Highness,” you said as you took your place at the helm. There was an ache between your thighs that you prayed would go away quickly.

It wouldn’t do to think of him anytime you so much as took a single step.

“YOU ARE CASTING ME OUT BECAUSE YOU ARE TERRIFIED OF YOUR OWN FEELINGS!”

Waves crashed against the side of the ship, the only sound amidst the deafening silence.

James was pissed. Perhaps even more so than he had been the first day you’d captured him. His hands were fisted at his sides as he started to climb the steps that led up to the stern. “I love you. And I’m willing to bet all of Ithair that you love me, too.”

“You feel the triumph of a false conquest,” you hissed, standing your ground. “You think me to be a creature you have tamed.”

“I think nothing of the sort,” he said, holding onto the rails. The wind whipped his long, dark locks around his face. “You have me mind, body, and soul, my angel, my darling, my love. Please…”

Your heart was racing. There was a war inside of yourself. You wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms and allow him to hold you, to comfort you. But your head was telling you that this was nothing more than a dirty trick.

The men were watching unabashedly as he came closer. His hand reached for yours, but you snatched it out of his grasp. “I will give you everything,” he said, blue eyes searching yours desperately. “I will give you a throne, a kingdom… me.”

“A She-Demon cannot sit upon a throne,” you spat, taking a step back. “You will marry some princess, someone raised for that life.”

James shook his head, grabbing your hand despite your protests. “I don’t care about some old rule. I don’t want a princess. I want you. I will speak with my father, and–”

Smack.

The slap resounded throughout the air. The prince looked at you in shock, his hand reaching up to hold his cheek.

“Do not touch me,” you said, gritting your teeth. “And it’s your father’s fault that I’m a pirate in the first place. He is the reason for me becoming the She-Demon you hear tavern tales about.”

“What?” He asked, still holding his reddening cheek.

You felt a little bad about slapping him, but you’d made it clear that you didn’t want him touching you and then he did.

“Your father allowed his soldiers to destroy my village,” you said, fury boiling in your veins. “I was fifteen when they came, ransacking our homes, killing our men, kidnapping our women and children. We had nothing to do with his war with our king, but he didn’t care.” Blood trickled from your hands, where your nails had dug so deep into your palms that they’d cut through the tender skin. “More than one of your soldiers attempted to carry me off. I was lucky to make it out alive.”

James had gone silent by now, shock and sorrow written across his face plain as day.

“One of your men chased me all the way to the docks. The only reason I survived was because I made it onto a pirate ship that had docked there.” Most of your men knew your story. You hadn’t tried to hide it, though it wasn’t something that was openly discussed. “The Captain found me and took me under his wing,” you said. “He gave me this ship, but your father is the reason why I’m the She-Demon you speak of.”

“I didn’t know,” he said softly, swallowing down the lump that had lodged in his throat. “I swear to you, my angel, I didn’t know.” He reached out for you again, but thought better of it. “I was only eighteen when the war happened. I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me all the soldiers did.”

“Because you didn’t ask,” you said. “Because we were poor, and the king doesn’t give a damn unless you have a title.” You turned back to the helm, your hands resting on the wheel. “You will get off my ship at Marolan. Speak of me how you wish. The words of a royal mean nothing to me.”

You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your head, as though wishing you’d turn back to him and say it had all been a jest. But you didn’t. You kept your eyes ahead as you set the course for the port city.

“Whatever you wish, Captain,” he said, the words half lost in the wind.

You bit your lip to keep the tears at bay as you heard him go back down the stairs to the main deck before disappearing into your quarters.

It didn’t matter.

You’d be at the helm all night.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and you knew it was Sam without even looking. “What do you need?” You asked, your voice cracking despite your attempt to sound tough.

He stood at your side, his arms crossed over his chest. “Are you going to punish the son for the sins of the father?”

“He has his own sins to atone for,” you said softly, “Just like his father, just like me.”

“Is that what this is? Self punishment?”

“You heard him.” You gripped the wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white. “I am but a She-Demon.”

Sam glanced down to the deck, the men not-so-subtly taking glances at you. “He never called you that, if I remember correctly. He simply said that’s what others have called you. But he never did.”

You didn’t reply, choosing to stay silent as you stared ahead.

If you opened your mouth, all that would come out were broken sobs.

You didn’t speak for James for the last two days he spent on your ship. You stayed out of your quarters during the night, and when he finally awoke and left your office, you snuck in and locked your bedroom door.

You stood atop the stern, looking down at the tiny port town that you had docked at. Your men took the chance to explore some of the shops since this was an unplanned stop.

James stood at the top of the ramp that led down to the dock. You’d had Sam give him enough gold to pay for a horse and then some.

The sun gleamed off his dark hair, tied back with the green silk ribbon that he’d been using as a bookmark. He looked like a man from a romance novel, one of those Shakespearean heroes.

He looked up at you, his blue eyes startling even as far away as he was. “Goodbye, Captain,” he said, his voice barely audible.

You swallowed, looking away. “Goodbye, Your Highness.”

Hot tears pricked your eyes as he walked down the ramp, the sound of the gold clinking in his pocket fading as he got further and further away. Ignoring the men still on the ship, you stormed down the stairs and into your quarters, slamming the door to your office shut and locking it.

It was only once you were alone that you allowed yourself to collapse. You fell to your knees as sobs wracked your body. The feelings you’d been fighting had fought their way to the surface, breaking through your glass exterior.

How had he done it? How had the prince wormed his way into your heart? He had slipped through the bars of its rib cage prison and sunk his teeth into what you thought had been a frozen chunk of ice.

You rubbed your face, trying to contain yourself to no avail.

But something caught your eye.

There, on the chaise, was a folded piece of parchment.

You crawled over to it, feeling no shame at how pathetic it was. Your hand covered your mouth to muffle another sob as you recognized James’s handwriting. Some of the letters were runny, misshapen from the tear stains that littered the paper.

My darling angel,

If you’re reading this, it means that I’m gone. You’ve cast me off your ship and out of your heart.

But I can’t let you think that I was simply trying to conquer you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left without telling you, and you won’t even look in my direction, which is why I have taken to paper and pen.

I meant what I said that night. I love you with all of my soul. You surprised me with your wit, your strength. I never dreamed that I would meet a woman like you, and I mean that in the best way possible. If you would allow me to, I would make you my wife, my queen.

It is not hard to guess that you think I couldn’t see you as anything more than a pirate, but you’re wrong. The softness that you try to hide calls to me. I want to take you in my arms and show you that the world will not always be cruel to you.

My father was wrong to allow his soldiers to do what they did. It was not your war. You were innocent. If there was a way for me to turn back the clock and stop it all from happening, I would. I would give you your village back, your family back.

Alas, I am incapable of doing so, despite how badly I long to. So I must do the next best thing.

I will be a better king than my father. I will do my best to ensure that there are no more innocent people punished by cruel, battle hungry men.

I won’t allow any more little girls to be sentenced to running from grown men who should know better.

I wish I could give you back your girlhood, my love. I wish I could see you with daisies in your hair, untouched by the horrors of the world.

If you will not allow me to love you up close, then this is how I shall love you from far away. I will do better than my father, in your name.

Is it peculiar of me to say that I miss you already? You are simply above deck, and yet, my hands long to hold yours, my lips feel like winter ice. Must you really leave me alone?

I am fearful that when I leave the Medusa’s Revenge, I shall never see you again.

I haven’t slept in the past two nights, but my nightmares invade my daydreams and make me see visions of a life without you, the life I am facing ahead of me.

How is it that I have fallen so deeply in love with you in such a short amount of time?

Perhaps, if I am lucky, and if you are feeling so gracious, I will hear your voice one last time before I go. Is it so greedy of me to wish to hear my name falling from your lips one last time? To feel you gaze upon my face, even if it is with scorn?

When I am back in my castle in Ithair, I shall pace the royal gardens and lament that the red roses the gardeners so painstakingly tend to cannot compare to thy sweet lips. I shall cry each night that the furs that line my bed are not as warm as your embrace.

Will you miss me as I miss you? It may be wrong of me to hope so, but I do. I shall miss you ‘til my dying breath, and perhaps even beyond then.

Will your siren’s song call to me beyond the grave? I suppose I shall have to wait and find out.

I will speak of you fondly, lovingly, for you were never the She-Demon the bastards tried to make you out to be.

Forever yours, my love,

James Buchanan Barnes

If any of your crew noticed that your eyes were swollen and glassy when they came back, ready to set off, they didn’t mention it.

Almost two years had passed.

Two years, and yet you were still crying yourself to sleep most nights.

Prince James had truly done his damage in the short amount of time he spent on your ship.

Well, he wasn’t a prince anymore.

When you’d docked in Genia about four months ago, you’d been given the news that his father, King George IX, had died, and King James II had been coronated.

You’d avoided docking at any of Ithair’s ports since letting him go. You refused to risk seeing any sign of him.

Your heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

You kept his goodbye letter close to you at all times. When you went into battle, the tear stained parchment was tucked inside of your corset, right over your heart.

You read it every night before you went to sleep, the parchment soft from how often it was unfolded and refolded.

“Captain,” Peter called to you from the deck. The boy had grown so much in the time since James had left. He was no longer the lowest member of the crew. He’d been given more responsibilities, and if you were being honest, was the person you trusted most on your crew, behind Sam, of course.

“Yes, Peter?” You had one hand on the wheel, and you were half lost in a daydream.

“There’s a ship coming up on the starboard side,” he said.

Frowning, you turned to your right, and sure enough, there was a ship much closer than you first thought it’d be.

Had you really been so deep within your own thoughts?

“Do you know whose ship?”

“Ithair. Navy.”

Ice ran through your veins as you turned back to the helm. “Tell the men to ready themselves, but we are not planning on fighting. We’re going to avoid them if we can.” Your hands were shaking as you turned the wheel, planning on making a sharp left and avoiding them completely. “Get Sam,” you said after a moment as your hands refused to stop trembling.

Your First Mate was there within seconds, taking over. “I’ve got this,” he said, ushering you away. He knew how you were feeling with just a look. “If we really need you, I’ll send Peter.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly as you went to your quarters, shutting the door before you began to pace.

It couldn’t be him… could it?

Surely he wouldn’t taunt you with his presence like that. After all, it would be cruel. There was no way he didn’t have some princess waiting for him.

But then again, wouldn’t you have heard of a royal engagement when you heard of his coronation if that were the case?

No. You couldn’t think like that.

Besides, he most likely wasn’t on the ship.

A king had better things to do.

You grabbed your jewel encrusted dagger from your desk, sliding it into its sheath. Your cutlass was already ready at your side, just in case.

But when you opened the door to step out onto the deck, you were caught by surprise.

Your ship hadn’t been steered away as you’d wanted it to. The Ithairian Navy ship was right alongside yours, a plank connecting the two. And more than that, there was no fight going on.

King James stood before you, grinning as Peter rambled onto him about all that had happened since he left.

A board creaked under your foot, and his head snapped in your direction. Your breath caught in your throat as his eyes met yours.

He looked older, more worn. Maybe a little tired. There were shadows under his eyes, and his hair was longer.

It was tied back out of his face with a green silk ribbon.

Your mouth went dry as you stared at him, not daring to move any closer. “Have you come to kill the Siren?” You asked, though you didn’t bother to reach for your cutlass.

If he truly wished to gut you, you would allow him to. It would hurt less than living with the pain of knowing that he wanted you dead.

“No,” he said, his voice soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I’ve come to wed her.”

You blinked in surprise, your heart constricting. “Do you now?” You asked slowly. The letter that was pressed to your chest felt like it was burning your skin.

“Well, I truly hope so,” he said as he came a few steps closer, his hands behind his back. From what you could see, he had no weapon.

Perhaps he truly wasn’t here to hurt you.

“You see, you’re not exactly an easy person to track down,” he said, stopping a few feet away. “Especially since you haven’t docked at any Ithairian ports in almost two years.” He reached inside his coat, pulling out a small box.

“Your Majesty–” Your voice cracked as you snuck a glance at the people watching you. Your crew and his were staring, grins on their faces as though this was the most normal thing in the world.

James ignored your question, looking at the ring with a soft smile. “It took Sam sending me a letter from the last place you’d been docked at, telling me where you were heading, to find you.”

The man in question had the decency to look a little sheepish. “It’s time for something new,” he said, leaning against the railing of the steps that led up to the stern. “You haven’t been happy with this life ever since James left.”

He wasn’t wrong, per say, but you thought you’d hidden it better than you apparently had.

“Well…” You turned to look back at James, shaking your head. “You… You can’t marry a pirate. Or even just a commoner.”

“Why not, my love?” He asked as he got down on one knee, holding the ring up for you to see. It sparkled in the late afternoon sun. “I thought that the point of being king was that I made the rules.”

Your heart was racing faster than it ever had before. “I… I keep your letter on me,” you blurted out, stumbling over your words like a newborn foal. Your fingers trembled as you reached through the neckline of your shirt, into your corset, before pulling out the worn piece of paper. “I read it every n-night before I go to sleep.” You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt a tear hit your hand.

“Have you missed me as I’ve missed you, my angel?” He asked, not moving. His own eyes were glassy, his speech thick from emotion. “I’ve dreamed of you every moment, waking and asleep.”

“I have. I have, James,” you gasped out, your chest heaving against the corset. “I’ve missed you so much.”

His hand reached for your left, grasping it softly and bringing it to his lips. “Will you marry me?” He looked up at you with pleading blue eyes. “Please, my angel? I shall never ask for anything more if you say yes.”

You fell to your knees in front of him, your hands grasping his face as you pulled him in for a kiss. “Yes,” you whispered against his lips. The salt from both of your tears lingered in your mouth, but you didn’t care as you pulled him into another kiss. “Yes, I will marry you.”

The ring somehow found your left finger, sliding on with ease.

“I love you,” you said as you pulled away for air, resting your forehead against his. “I love you so much and I’m so sorry I was too afraid to say it then.”

“Shh,” he said, caressing your face. “You have nothing to be sorry for, my darling.” He stole another kiss, a smile creeping up on his face. “And I love you, too, my siren.”

“James?” You said, your nose nudging his. His breath mingled with yours in the most delicious way. Your chest was pressed against his, your arms wrapping around his neck. It felt so good to have him in your arms again after two years.

You’d thought you’d only get this in your dreams.

“Yes, my angel?”

“Does this mean I have to wear dresses?”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #royalty au #pirate au

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lilliloves · 3 years

Text

FAV FIC LINES

RULES: share your favorite sentence/paragraph from each one of your fics and tag 6 other fic writers to do it too :)

TAGGED BY: @medievalraven @inyoursheets thank you ❤️❤️❤️

TAGGING: @sdktrs12 @wakeupflawless @nakedmonkey @bethsuglywigs @foxmagpie @fairhairedkings apologies if you’ve already done this/been tagged!!!!

First of all I didn’t realize I’d written this many fics (probably bc it’s been so long and I’ve forgotten how to write) so this was like a very hard tag meme but also fun. I chose not to do all of my prompts because it would’ve taken me longer than it already has!

Sorry this got so long I have no control!

No One Has To Know What We Do

"I ain't gonna lie." Rio speaks, breaking the tension in the room with his husky voice.

She holds her breath as his arms reach forward and his fingers brush against her shirt. They start at her hips and trail upwards. Beth's grateful that she's covered because the goosebumps that break out across her skin are enough to light her face on fire. He stops just on either side of her breasts and she sucks in a breath.

"These are the first things I noticed about you." He finishes, eyes on hers even though they're clearly talking about something else.

"You think you're the first person to tell me that?" Beth clips back but she's too far gone to move out of his grasp.

He chuckles and drops his hands, resting them firmly on her waist. His touch is light but heavy all at once.

"That's the second thing I noticed." He continues, squeezing just hard enough to make an impression. His fingers slip under the hem of her shirt and brush soft skin. She bites her tongue to keep from making a noise she doesn't want to make.

"What?" Beth whispers, trying to keep up with the conversation.

"The way you ain't scared to talk back." He pulls her forward so that their hips are touching and the balls of her cheeks burst into flames when he mutters a swear under his breath.

"Should I be?" Beth wonders out loud with no idea how she's stringing sentences together.

"Probably be smart, ya." He mumbles, rocking his jaw.

"Who says I'm smart?"

Rio's eyes flash dark and his gaze pierces hers, sending her spiraling. Beth can't remember ever being in a situation like this one. Where she knows what she's doing is so wrong, will fill her with so many regrets, but where she just can't find it in herself to care.

Love (where it wasn’t supposed to be)

He knows she can’t stand the part he has in her business – and he does know that it’s her business – he may have provided the capital but it wouldn’t have happened without her. He thinks he might be closer to admitting it but, not yet.

Not ever, maybe. He thinks then he’ll have to give her up and he’s not ready for that. He’s certainly not ready to delve into the why of it, either.

Why it is that he’s so fuckin’ stuck on a woman who’s left more scars than the ones tattooed on his skin.

What We Do and Don’t Deserve

She's scared to move, scared to breath and when he moves his head so that his mouth is lined up with her ear, so close that she can feel the warmth of his breath, there's nothing she can do to stop the whimper from escaping her throat.

“I like watchin' you work.”

Me too. She wants to say. I like you watching me too. She wants to say. But her mouth is dry and her voice doesn't work so she‘s silent.

“I fuckin' hate that I like it.”

Leave Well Enough Alone

Beth whimpers and knows he’s left a mark - knows it doesn’t compare to the ones she’s left on him.

He pulls back, lips slightly parted. She has to force herself not to take them between hers again. She can feel how hard he is against her leg and she’s desperate for him to make her come but she can already sense him pulling away.

“You want me to touch you?” He asks, his voice coated in lust but dripping with venom.

Let’s Play Pretend Just For A Minute

"You can shoot someone in the middle of their dining room and smuggle drugs in from Canada but you can't go to a school conference by yourself?"

Nothing But Trouble

She sees him shake his head - she tells herself it's in amusement but more likely than not it's frustration. He's annoyed that she's pulled one over on him but she knows that he's impressed with her ability to get what she wants. His attempt earlier to knock her off her pedestal by being sexually suggestive was worthy but unsuccessful. The rasp in his voice though, the look in his eyes, had made her clench her legs tightly together. She'd never been more grateful to be sitting behind a desk because she knows he would have noticed - knows he would have taken advantage.

The More Things Change

“Sweetheart, you runnin’ this show. I ain’t a good guy. I’d have lifted your skirt and railed you up against my bar a month ago if I thought you could handle it. You got my attention but I don’t got time to hold your hand.”

Standing There In That Dress

"I'm back to being a normal, boring, lawful citizen. I am of no interest to you anymore." It was a joke but...

"You'll never be boring or normal." She'd anticipated that response.

She hadn't been prepared for the next part.

"And, unfortunately, you'll never not be of interest to me."

The Things A Voice Can Do

“I’d pay a lot of money to be in that bed with you right now, sweetheart.”

She sucked in a breath and her cheeks burned red at his words. Yes, this had been what she’d wanted when she’d decided to call him. “You don’t have to pay.”

#tag meme #brio fic #my fic

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tsvestidiabolus · 3 years

Text

the melody never changes

commission for @snurps

➵ my COMMISSIONS are open!

SUMMARY: Robin's reflection on their newest crewmate, from Thriller Bark to Fishman Island, and Brook's growth from solitude to rockstar.

WORDCOUNT: 2529

CHARACTERS: Brook & Nico Robin

ALSO FOUND AT: ao3

Thank you for the commission! I had a blast writing for Brook and Robin. Theirs is a friendship that is immensely underrated.

To the charming skeleton gentleman,

First off, I’m afraid I must deny your inevitable request to see my panties. I have self-respect, and I don’t think they would suit you. Secondly, while we are not currently crewmates, our captain has declared you as part of the Straw Hats, and you’ll find him to be very persuasive. Doubtless we’ll be spending more time together in the future. In order to give you a warm welcome to the crew, I’ve decided to write a personal letter from me to you. Partly because I know how it feels coming into this ship as a newcomer, and partly because I’m frankly interested in you.

As an archaeologist, of course.

We’ve recovered the three strongest of our crew, and those who were in the crew all the way back in the East Blue seemed to recognise the whale you mentioned. It’s funny how life turns out that way - coincidences upon coincidences, friends meeting with friends again. He’s called Laboon, right? I certainly hope you’ll introduce me to him when we arrive at Twin Cape.

Nami is calling out to the crew - I believe she wants us to plan before we inevitably scrap any semblance of strategy and enter the main castle again - so I’ll have to cut this short. If we somehow don’t survive and our mangled corpses rot on the island, which would be a shame, I’d have to hope this letter finds its way to you.

From,

Nico Robin

---

“Yohoho!”

Even now, despite all the hardships and suffering the crew had gone through in the past day, Brook laughed. Such a melodic sound - one could almost mistake it for a song - yet it carried with it fifty years worth of promises.

The pirates were spread out across the castle of Thriller Bark, exhausted from their ordeal (yet at the moment that Luffy would shout it’s time for a party, they would be bouncing with energy) and taking their time to rest. Some of them had been tending to their wounds with the help of Chopper, while others decided to help out those who’d been lost for years. The Straw Hats in particular were fretting with worry over Zoro, even though they all were confident in his survival.

Brook practically danced past most of the Straw Hats, tipping his skull to those he passed by, before he settled right in front of the archaeologist of the crew, her nose stuck in a book. Robin flipped to the next page of her novel, making no indication that she had noticed his arrival.

“Ah, Miss Robin -”

“If you’re about to ask to see my panties, I’ll have to say no,” said Robin.

Brook laughed. “Well, it was worth a shot! But that’s not the reason I’m here.”

Her eyes never leaving the page, Robin arched a brow, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. “Oh?”

“I wanted to give my thanks. You’ve made me feel welcome to the ship already.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Robin said, smiling.

“Yohoho! I’ve never felt so honoured to call someone so beautiful a friend!”

With a tip of his hat, and a blank eyeless stare for a brief moment (which Robin later found out was Brook attempting to wink), Brook danced away from her, his skeletal legs skittling across the ground. It was almost inhumane, the amount of speed the man carried in his light body, but then again their crew was full of monsters. A living skeleton was far from the most terrifying thing in their crew.

As for the most terrifying thing?

Brook was bound to discover, sooner or later.

---

To Brook,

Music has no language; it cannot be misinterpreted. One strum of a guitar can tell a thousand stories and a thousand promises. One beat of the drum speaks of a hundred wars. One note of a violin can sing a song of sorrow in the drifting seas of time. It is the one universal truth.

I see you sometimes, when I’m on watch duty, humming a solo that sounds so… lonely, and so melancholic, that it takes all of my effort not to climb down the mast and join you. But I am a coward, so I leave you alone to your own devices. To that, I am sorry.

How lonely must you have been, drifting alone on those waters for fifty years. Only with your thoughts and determination to keep you going. I’m amazed you can still smile, despite that (at least, I assume you’re smiling. It would be pretty strange for you to laugh without smiling). In fact, I admire you. And while I’m sure my words would have a better effect for you if I said them aloud, as I said before - I’m a coward. It’s easier for me to write this down in ink.

But yet, you were on the cusp of madness, and you persevered. You lived. Sort of.

And to that, I want to know more.

Please, tell me your story.

From your crewmate,

Nico Robin.

---

Quietly, as the eve turned to night and the night to the dead hour, Robin slipped down the ladder from the mast. It was Zoro’s turn now to keep watch, and she knew the swordsman would be perceptive enough to protect them in the instance of danger, despite his injuries and constant napping. But it was not yet time to sleep, for as usual their newly appointed musician was out by his lonesome in the night, a gentle lul of the violin playing a song that reminded her of Ohara. The song was enough to drift the boys and Nami to sleep, and Robin would have dozed off to the melody had she not felt so lonely just from the strings alone. But it was not her loneliness that made her feel this way - she had long since accepted she was part of this crew. That she wasn’t alone anymore.

It was Brook’s.

So, once she was safely down on the lawn of the Sunny, she joined him by the railing, leaning against the wood while he continued his solo. His skeletal hands played the tune delicately, and in time she hummed along to it. The nostalgia washed over her like a wave. She closed her eyes and imagined Ohara again. She could only imagine what Brook was thinking of.

As the last notes of the melody rang out and the song stopped, Robin opened her eyes and smiled at Brook. He bowed his head back, setting the violin down the grass.

“Is that song known outside the West Blue?” she asked. “I’ve only ever heard it there.”

“It’s a West Blue classic!” Brook exclaimed. “Well, I say it’s a classic. It was written by yours truly!”

Robin blinked.

“I would’ve like to tweak it before I left, but sadly there was no time. The original music sheet must be lost as well! I must rely on my ears now to complete it - but alas, I have no ears! Yohoho! Skull jo-”

“You’re from the West Blue?”

It certainly came as a surprise - after all, a majority of their crew had come from the East or the Grand Line, and she had no idea there was someone else onboard the ship that hailed from the West. Even if he was the most recent addition. Robin felt her curiosity peak up the more Brook revealed about himself. His past was becoming more and more of a mystery to her, a clash between his demeanor and his tragedy.

Brook nodded his head in response, his afro bouncing as he did. “I served a royal kingdom there for sometime before I decided piracy was a better career. Of course, I was a musician as well!”

She imagined him flashing her a grin.

“But yes, West Blue, born and raised - ah! Miss Robin, if I recall correctly, you were from the West too, no?” he asked.

“That’s correct.”

“May I ask which is-”

“Ohara.”

She definitely said that too quickly, with too much of a snap in her tongue, that Brook paused and gave her enough time to regret it. Before she could utter an apology, Brook picked up the bow of his violin and held it out to her. Naturally, she was confused.

Brook bowed his head down.

“I understand if you do not wish to talk about it,” he says. “I can assume from personal experience a deep tragedy has occurred there.”

Still, he held out the bow.

“But know that Ohara is wonderful, and that its legacy - whatever that may be - is you.”

Curious, Robin took the bow and inspected it. It seemed ordinary enough. She couldn’t understand what Brook was -

Prof. Clover

Without realising, her hand had begun trembling from the overwhelming everything coming over her, and she looked up to Brook with glistening eyes. The musician panicked.

“Miss Robin, I - I’m dreadfully sorry!” he sputtered. “I didn’t mean to upset you! I merely - I wanted to explain that tragedies don’t have to - I’m sorry!”

“You knew the professor?” She was surprised she could manage to get even that out. “You knew Ohara?”

A relieved sigh passed through his nonexistent lips. “I stayed there for a couple years, back when I was a young man. This violin was a parting gift from my dear friend at the time. He’d just gotten his doctorate, and I think he wanted to show off. Yohoho!”

Robin chuckled, wiping away a tear.

“Ah! But of course, this explains why you know my song!” Brook exclaimed. “Miss Robin, I knew I felt a kinship for you when I boarded this ship. Us both being from the West Blue gives me a sense of familiarity in the crew. I’ve never been more grateful to be alive - ah! But I’m not alive! Yohoho, skull joke!”

Robin was amazed, not for the first time, that Brook could joke and even dare to imply that she was the one being welcoming, when here he was, passing on Robin wisdom that she took twenty years to even consider. It was often easy to forget that Brook had thirty years of experience out on the sea before the tragedy of the Rumbar Pirates occurred, but it was clear that those years were enough to sharpen the man’s mind and strengthen his heart. But his heart was not made of stone, nor iron - it was laid out bare to the world, soft and beating, and his gentle lullabies sung of sorrows from his past that he dare not speak of.

So, she leaned against the railing, a slight smile gracing her lips. “Please, tell me more stories.”

And so he did.

---

Be alive.

---

She’d written the message in the dirt of the prison, pleading with whatever divine powers existed to ensure that the rest of her crew had lived.

After all, Brook owed her a concert. One that would declare to the World that he was alright despite all the pain he’d been through. That humans were resilient.

He’d better keep that promise.\

---

To Brook,

I do not expect this message to reach you. The Government is constantly attempting to interfere with letters from the RA, and no doubt they’ll be trying to decipher any clues about their plans in this message (good luck, cowards).

It’s been almost two years already. No doubt we will meet each other again soon. I’ve been looking forward to this immensely, as no doubt you have too. I think - I understand you, a little more. Now that I’ve been infected with the Straw Hats’ boundless enthusiasm and joy, I can understand how you lived in isolation for all that time. Not just because of the promise you kept to Laboon, but because dying would be spitting on their smiles, right?

Can you hear the waves crash against the shore where you are? Do you hear seagulls, do you smell the salt?

Can you see the moon?

One day we’ll meet again. I look forward to that day.

From Robin.

P.S. I keep hearing about this new rockstar that some of the Revolutionaries are raving about. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?

---

It wasn’t a soft strum that the bony hand had passed over the strings, yet it was strangely nostalgic all the same. No, it was a thunderous sound, booming across the concert hall and somehow could be heard over the screams of adoring fans. It was unlike anything Robin had ever heard before. No - she never felt anything like this before. The vibrations shook her very body, making her suddenly aware of the blood rushing through her veins, of her heart pounding against her chest. The feeling was exhilarating.

She stared from the back of the concert hall to the star of the show. As always, his feathered boa and skeleton-figure was instantly recognisable, as was his laugh.

“Soul King Brook, hm?” she whispered under her breath. She couldn’t hear herself over the sound of the music.

There was something different about his music now. She would have to ask him if he changed his muse. Later, perhaps.

Now, it was time to find the Sunny.

---

It wasn’t hard to find Brook after the battle at Fishman Island. Where there were cheers and melodies, there was Brook. Robin waited by an alley, listening to the sound of Brook’s guitar as he sang a victory song for the pirates. The tune was new, unlike anything she had ever heard before. But there was a certain gentleness to it, despite the upbeat and heart-pounding vibrations it made. Like Brook was unleashing happiness to the world.

When the imprupto-concert was over, and Robin could finally approach Brook, he tipped his hat and stared blankly at her. She assumed he was grinning.

“Miss Robin! Did you enjoy the show?” he asked. “I wasn’t sure about this song, but it looks to be a hit with the crowd! Yohoho!”

Robin smiled back. “It was happy,” she noted.

“Mmhm!” he said. “It was inspired by our captain.”

“Luffy?”

Brook nodded. “I suppose that’s why you picked up on the feelings I was conveying. It’s an honour to sail under his flag, don’t you think?” His voice took on a melancholic tone. “I would’ve never expected to find such a crew years ago.”

Neither did she.

“Are you happy, Brook?” Robin asked. The question had just slipped out, but she was curious to know the answer.

Brook looked at her, tilting his head. “Of course I am, Miss Robin. How could I create such a song if I weren’t?”

Robin paused for a moment, before nodding her head slowly. It made sense. Brook’s music reflected his feelings at the time. And now, as part of the Straw Hats, his tune had become one much like their captain’s.

“Now, shall we return to the party?” Brook said. “I’m sure Luffy would want to hear this too.”

Not a thing could crush Brook’s spirit. Not being alone, not despair, not even death.

He was alive, and he was happy, and he would make sure the world knew.

Robin couldn’t be more proud to call him a crewmate.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #brook #nico robin #one piece commission #writing commission #commission #;; ooc #my fics #nakamaship #writing commissions #commissions open

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fritae · 3 years

Text

The Missing Piece : Chapter 1

Gang leader! AU / Corporate! AU

Characters: Dabi x F/OC

Status: Ongoing

Summary:

Rina Aoki is the secretary of one of the world's biggest broadcasting stations - only she hates her job and wakes up everyday asking herself if this is all there is to life. Then, she meets Dabi: a man of overpowering confidence and many, many secrets. But beneath all that confidence is a wounded soul and years' worth of repressed anger. The two struggle with fear, ambition, vulnerability - but eventually learn that life may just be better when you don't have to struggle alone.

A/N:

There are no quirks in this story. I tried to give it a real world spin. But it will explore dynamics between good and evil, right and wrong, and feelings of family, friendship, love and belonging. I'm super excited about the story and I hope you enjoy it!Chapter 1: the meeting

Chapter One: The Meeting

It was raining.

I hide my tote under my coat out of fear for my laptop. If it gets wet, I'm done for. My boss isn't exactly the most considerate person out there. If anything were to happen to the highly coveted files on it, I might as well hand in my resignation.

I sigh with relief once the bus arrives, and quickly hurry inside.

As I find a seat, I lean my head against the window, not caring for germs or the subtle tremble of the glass. It feels cool against my skin, and not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. But more importantly, it is distracting. It'll give me something else to focus on during the ride.

At least I hoped so.

But within minutes, it becomes clear that my mind has no intention of being distracted. The thoughts creep in and suddenly the soft hum of the engine is no match against the throbbing in my head.

Of course not.

Distractions simply don't last long these days.

So I surrender to the thoughts as I stare at the passing streets, feeling increasingly empty by the minute.

I hate my job. I hate everything about it. Working as a secretary for a broadcasting company is a dream for many. The salary isn't bad. I have access to exclusive events and frequently coordinate with the biggest names in the industry. I know the ins and outs of selling an idea and making it resonate with millions.

But I quickly learned all the people in this industry are insufferable. The whole premise rests upon the art of manipulation, taking something that may very well be worthless and conning people into thinking it will fill a hole they didn't even know they had. The people are superficial, be it actors or other famous personalities. Everyone is so obsessed with images. How to best put on a show to gain the love and admiration of millions.

But what use is their love if it's built upon the distortion of reality?

I shake my head before burying it in my palms.

No matter, I tell myself.

As frustrating and unfulfilling as the work may be, it pays the bills and keeps me busy.

A little too busy...

I get up once my stop arrives. I say a quick thank you to the bus driver before hurrying out.

The cold makes me shiver and I pull my skirt to cover more of my thighs before plastering a fake smile onto my face.

The fake smile is part of the uniform here.

My heels click together with attitude as I make my way through the building. The noise hits my ears immediately. Loud chattering, blaring music and upbeat announcements stand in sharp contrast to the calm of the rainy world outside. I blow kisses as my colleagues call out my name from the studio floor.

My friend and roommate Aliyah takes off her headset to wave me over. She left home extra early today owing to her busy schedule as floor manager. The glaring lights tell me they're about to start shooting but as much as I want to help her with final preparations, I have more important things to worry about right now.

"Can't talk now, Al!" I say apologetically. With one point to my tote bag, she understands. "Good luck!" she shouts back, before returning her attention to the production crew.

I sigh.

I will definitely need all the luck I can get.

I take the elevator up to the highest floor of the company. While our studios are bright, loud and fun. The offices are formal, professional and characteristic of a multibillion dollar company. I knock twice before heading into the largest office at the end of the hall, where my boss is waiting for me. The letters NNTV adorn the walls in an elegant gold print behind him.

A pair of glasses sits on the bridge of Mr. Lane's nose as he reads over today's reports.

"You're late, Ms. Aoki." He says without looking up.

"Apologies, sir. It was unexpected."

"Do I not say to account for the unexpected in your planning, Ms. Aoki?"

"It won't happen again, sir."

He offers me a *tsk* in response.

"Our ratings have gone down this month. Much more than we anticipated." Mr. Lane grumbles.

"CBS' new reality show has attracted a lot of viewers, sir. It's competing with our usual broadcasts at-."

"Then why have you not found a program to substitute whatever we usually air at that time?"

I bite back a sigh. "The current schedule is the most optimal, sir. If we switch around any programs we risk affecting the viewership of The Midnight Show and Killer."

"Well then figure something out!" He barks. "That's what your job is, isn't it?"

"We have a team for a reason, sir. Perhaps we can consult them today? I can schedule an emergency meeting to address this."

I say this knowing the rest of the team won't alter the schedule. The nature of the industry is ratings fluctuate all the time. To change our scheduling at every hint of a drop will only harm our future ratings.

He waves me away. "Schedule it for two hours from now. Cancel anything else I have at that time."

"Yes sir." I confirm, before turning around.

My nostrils seethe as I suddenly hear him mutter *Useless* under his breath.

The rest of the day is spent taking more orders and backtracking on Mr. Lane's previous decisions. Just as I'd expected, the board decided it would be better to simply wait out the next two weeks until the current programs are finished before rearranging any of the schedules. I make a mental note to consider what might be a suitable alternative in the meantime.

The hours drag on. I should have been done at 5, but 7 o clock hits and I'm still taking phone call after phone call. It isn't until a quarter to 9 that I can finally go home.

I sigh as I pass the much quieter studio floor on the way out. I don't find Aliyah among the crew, but I'm sure she's taking care of her own things at the moment. The Midnight Show is scheduled for well, midnight, so she's probably taking a final break before her last project of the night.

Once I am outside, I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding in. Instead of taking the bus straight home, I find myself walking toward Café Du Monde. It sits a few blocks away from the NNTV building.

The smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries greets me as I enter. The soft jazz is welcomed by my ears after a day of nonstop chatter and corporate debate.

As I stand in line, I remind myself to pick up coffees before I leave for the crew working late tonight. Hopefully Aliyah will be back by then.

---

"Shit," I hear the man ahead of me in line mutter. "I think I forgot my wallet back in the office."

He checks his pockets again, but finding them empty he looks up at the cashier. "Sorry man, I'll be back another day."

But before he could walk away, I step up to the register. "It's okay, I got it."

He glances at me. "Nah, don't-"

"It's nothing. Can you add another coffee to the order please?"

The cashier punches a few numbers into the register and I hand him a 20.

---

The man tips his hand in thanks. I nod back at him and walk up to the roof.

With a coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, I sigh. Now to get the day out of my system...

"How can I repay you," A smooth voice says behind me.

I look over my shoulder to see the man walk up to the ledge with me. He has electrifying blue eyes, a head of thick dark hair, and the kind of walk that signifies authority.

"You good at conversation?" I ask.

He thinks for a moment. "How about I let you be the judge of that?"

I pass the man a cigarette. "Then distract me."

"You don't look like the type to smoke." He comments before accepting it.

"Looks can be deceiving." I shrug.

"It feel good or something?"

"Or something." I confirm with a smile. "Just reminds me to breathe in," and with a soft easing in my chest, "and breathe out."

He leans back against the railing. "Hm. You know breathing quality isn't exactly what people would associate with cigarettes."

I roll my eyes. "You know what I mean."

The man chuckles. "Yeah. Although I think rearranging a few things in your life would help more than smoking. Don't want to grow reliant on an outside source for relief now."

"Well, well. Wasn't aware I was speaking to a mental health guru."

He seems amused by that. "That's not what the people working for me would say but it's nice to know their sentiments aren't universal."

"Ah. So you're a shitty boss."

"I'm just a boss." He corrects. "What people think of me has nothing to do with me."

"Must be nice to believe that." I sigh, taking another puff of my roll.

"No reason not to, eh? Letting others' opinions matter to you means you lose power over yourself. There's nothing you could want from them that you can't do for yourself."

"Money?" I suggest.

"That's easy. But it depends on how willing you are to work for it."

"Work quite a lot." I scowl. "...starting to wonder if it's worth the headache, to be honest."

The man leans closer to me, his breath warm against my ear. I try not to focus on the scent of his cologne, musky with notes of amber and cedar wood. "Then what you want isn't really money. Sounds like you want more."

"More?"

"Yeah. Money by itself isn't satisfying," He says matter of factly. He leans away to take a sip of his coffee. "Only when it's coupled with a goal."

"Hm."

"Money doesn't take you anywhere; it's just a means to an end." He continues. There's an air of mystery behind those turquoise eyes of his. "Your goal is what guides you. Where do you want to go?"

Someone in this neighborhood that doesn't live and die for money? I almost want to laugh. What goal guides him then? What does he stay alive for?

But I keep those questions to myself. I shouldn't get too close to a man I'll never see again.

"I want to be my own boss." I say with a soft smile. Be my own boss. Wouldn't that be nice? No more waking up with Mr. Lane's voice already echoing in my head. No more plastering fake smiles and maintaining that "professional" semblance for hours on end. "I'm tired of taking orders from other people."

I almost miss the sudden gleam in his eye.

"Now that's more like it."

---

I leave the cafe with a box of donuts in one hand and a coffee tote in the other.

I said goodbye to the stranger, happy to have shared these thoughts with someone. It strikes me that I didn't even ask his name.

I shrug. Perhaps that's the magic of moments like these. The universe puts us in places we don't expect to be in. Brings two strangers together and they realize maybe this meeting was just what they needed today. The man got his coffee and I...I was able to let my thoughts run freely.

At least for a while.

"And now we abandon the fantasies and return to reality," I mutter with a sigh. I hook my pinkie with the large glass double doors of NNTV and pull the handle toward me.

There's a small audience present now, the guests for the Midnight Show. I walk around them and smile when I find Aliyah, arms crossed and eyes trained on the set, trying to catch any faults before we air.

"Al!" I call out in a whisper. She immediately looks my way, face lighting up at the sight of the coffee.

"Oh, you're a lifesaver!" She says excitedly as she takes the sweets from my hand. "Hey Joe, set this up for the crew, will ya?"

An intern shuffles forward and takes the bags anxiously to prepare a little station for the team.

"How'd you know I needed the coffee?" She smiles at me.

"Because I needed the coffee," I say with a laugh. "And you've been awake far longer than I have."

Aliyah laughs and rubs her eyes. "I forget how much time I spend here sometimes. No matter - you staying for the show tonight?"

I smile apologetically. "You know I'd love to, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I've got a long day tomorrow, I'm gonna need all the sleep I can get."

I say goodbye to the rest of the crew, smiling sheepishly as they spout *thank you*s for the late night coffee and donuts, and make my way home.

Later that night, as I lay in bed with my eyes trained on the ceiling, I feel a sudden urge to whisper these words out loud.

Please let my life be worth more than the value I add to a company.

#dabi #dabi x oc #dabi x female reader #todoroki touya #dabi fic #dabi fanfic #dabi angst #dabi fluff

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frogsandcookies · 4 years

Text

Hellfire

Who ordered a Hunchback of Notre Dame au for Sanders Sides?

Anyways, this is a song fic Hellfire from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Logan is Frollo in this, Patton is Esmeralda, Virgil is Quasimodo, and Roman is Phoebus (the latter two are barely mentioned)

Warning: Minor NSFW themes(nothing explicit so don’t worry but Logan does talk about lust), Violence, Mention of death, A lot of religious stuff (Talking about hell and such)

***Edited on 3-28-21 to remove a offensive word from the writing, I apologize for using it in the original, I wasn’t aware that it was a slur.

___

Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti Beatae Mariae semper Virgini Beato Michaeli archangelo Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis

The sound of the congregation’s singing bounced off of the towering stone halls, echoing throughout the magnificent cathedral and the surrounding city area. It was haunting, both beautiful and terrifying though the townsfolk paid no attention to it, used to the sound by now. The usually bustling city was quiet and dark, except for one house. Logan Frollo’s manor.

The stone faced man was standing on his balcony that looked over the whole city, his hands clamped tightly on the marble railing. His knuckles were a ghostly white and his teeth clenched together tightly. The deafening cathedral bells began to ring and his eyes snapped to the Notre Dame.

“Damned bells.” He muttered before releasing the thoroughly strangled railing and turning quickly on his heel. His robe swept elegantly behind him following his spin, the wind blowing it back as he strided into his home. Just as the bells ceased their ringing, Logan slammed the mahogany doors to his balcony, his face bearing an wrathful expression.

He was restless, clenching and unclenching his hands as he thought about the events that had occurred the past couple of days.

Logan suddenly stopped and his eyes flicked up to the tall portrait of the Virgin Mary which hung above the grand stone fireplace where a crackling fire was lit. Its eyes seemed to watch his every movement and looked into his soul, reading what he was thinking.

Beata Maria

You know I am a righteous man

Of my virtue I am justly proud

“Beata Maria, Saint Mary, why must you look at me so? You have seen from my actions that I am indeed a righteous man who strives for perfection in the citizens of Paris.” Logan said, looking up to the painting who’s leering seemed to increase as he continued to speak.

“Although my arrogance may seem unjust, I think that all of the contributions I have made to this growing city speak for themselves; of which my virtue I am justly proud. Not many can say they helped exterminate the infestation of travelers that roam about our glorious city, corrupting the weak willed citizens.” Logan added, his tone sounding a bit desperate as he pleaded to the painting.

Beata Maria

You know I'm so much purer than

The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd

“The citizens who make up our City of Light are vulgar and common yet I strive to help them reach salvation. Those fools in the Notre Dame do the devil’s work, protecting those wanderers and that freak of a child who I graciously raised.” Logan spat, his anger flaring.

“When I reach Heaven’s pearly gates those weak fools will claw at my feet.” He murmured.

Then tell me, Maria

Why I see him dancing there

Why his smoldering eyes still scorch my soul

There was a jingle of bells and Logan spun around, his glasses nearly falling off of his face as he looked for the source of the all too familiar sound.

“Who’s there?” He called, his hand flitting to his pocket where a silken blue scarf was housed. No one answered his call and Logan yelled once again,”Come out you vile boy!”

Only the crackling of the fire answered him and Logan turned back around. He ignored the painting’s judging stare as he pulled out the delicate scarf, his hands shaking slightly as he caressed it.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about that witch?!” He muttered angrily. The fire crepitated in response and Logan looked into the red orange flames.

I feel him, I see him

The sun caught in his glowing hair

Is blazing in me out of all control

The dancing of the flames brought his thoughts back to the festival. Where he had met him. The man who had somehow wormed his way into Logan’s cold heart.

The boy had shoulder length caramel locks that seemed to float while he danced on the stage, a tambourine in one hand and a scarf in another. The image of him dancing and wrapping the scarf around Logan’s neck had forever been burned into his mind, no matter how hard he attempted to rid it from his brain.

He still felt disgust towards the younger male but accompanying it was a new feeling as well.

Like fire

Hellfire

This fire in my skin

This burning

Desire

Is turning me to sin

It was lust. One of the seven deadly sins that the Lord had preached not to commit unless he wanted to be damned to the fiery pits of hell.

And yet, there it was. His skin burned and a pit of fire replaced his soul. This feeling was new. Logan had dedicated himself to the church, working to eliminate the sin and the sinners accompanying it from the world. While his methods were questionable to most, he saw them as the best course of action and so he went forward, destroying homes and imprisoning countless travelers to the city.

Destroying the nomads had always been his mission; it was as though he had been birthed to do it. He never had time to take his turn with romance, always caught up in his work and never meeting anyone who caught his eye.

Until the festival. The event that had spurred an emotion in him that he had never felt before.

It's not my fault

I'm not to blame

It is the g**** boy

The witch who sent this flame

Logan snapped out of his thoughts and looked back up to the painting who’s stare was cold, much like his own.

“It’s not my fault!” He snapped before saying,”It’s that beastly dancing boy’s fault! He cursed me, got me trapped in his ungodly spell! He was the one to light this fire inside me, I am innocent!”

The fire seemed to roar at this and Logan stopped back, still gripping the scarf tightly in his hands.

It's not my fault

If in God's plan

He made the devil so much

Stronger than a man

“Maria why must I be at fault?! God created me with the intention of tempting me with this sin! But also made the devil to overpower me and damn me to hell!” Logan yelled.

“I am not to blame for this sin, the devil has come and planted this seed in my soul, one that I cannot begin to understand nor control! I am a man of God and yet he still tries to damn me! If in his plan to make the Devil stronger, why must I be included! Oh mother Maria!” Logan shrieked, hitting his fist against the cold stone wall as an emphasis for his words.

Protect me, Maria

“Mary, queen of Heaven, protect me from this sin and allow me to continue following the path to salvation!” Logan said, breathing heavily.

Don't let this siren cast his spell

Don't let his fire sear my flesh and bone

The flames continued to dance, showing him more images of the curly haired youth and Logan screamed in rage.

“Don’t let this witch, this siren continue to tempt me! Wipe him from this Earthly plain and let him dance in hell with the devil! His fire, this fire, burns; it scorches my soul and this temptation is ungodly!” He shrieked.

Destroy Patton Fairhope

And let him taste the fires of hell

Or else let him be mine and mine alone

Logan knew that while this might be a sin, he could try and reform the young male, try and redeem his soul. Without his guidance though, there was no hope and the fire within him would not be quenched until the male--Patton-- had met his own kind of fire. The ever burning fires of the underworld.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Logan spun around, shoving the sky blue scarf back into his robe pocket as the door swung open. In the doorway stood an armor clad soldier, his face cast in shadow due to the light being emitted from behind him.

“Minister Frollo. The g**** has escaped.” The soldier said.

Logan froze, rage bubbling up inside of his as he said,”What?”

“He’s nowhere in the cathedral. He’s gone.” The soldier elaborated.

Logan ran a hand through his thinning hair as a wrathful expression wormed its way onto his face and the soldier stepped back nervously.

“But how did…” He paused, collecting himself and dawning a neutral expression which was just as unnerving at the angry one. “Nevermind. Get out you idiot.” He snarled, waving the soldier back as he turned back to the fireplace, the flames reflecting his swirling emotions.

As the guard closed the door, he faced the fire, adding,”I’ll find him if I have to burn down all of Paris.”

Hellfire

Dark fire

“Hellfire. Darkfire. That idiot can run but nothing can match the troops of Paris. If he wants hell, then I shall bring it to him.” Logan snarled, wringing the scarf as he continued to talk.

Now g****, it's your turn

Choose me or

Your pyre

Be mine or you will burn

“If that witch wants to live then he will wisely choose to accept my offer of forgiveness. If he refuses then may he be burned at the stake like all of those other sinners.” Logan said, smirking as he remembered the many others who he had damned to the stake.

“Not everyone is as fortunate to have won my favor. Choose wisely.” He murmured to the scarf before casting it into the flames. The delicate fabric immediately caught flame and the garment was ash within a span of several seconds. Logan looked up the Virgin Mary painting once more, looking smug before turning away.

God have mercy on him

God have mercy on me

“May God be with him as he decides on his fate. And may God be with me and let this boy join me so we can walk the path of salvation together.” Logan said.

But he will be mine

Or he will burn!

“But let there be no doubt. He will be mine or he will burn. And may that foolish captain and that freak burn with him should he choose this path.” Logan said, staring at the Notre Dame through the stained glass windows where the monster he had raised resided.

#sanders sides #unsympathetic logan #u!logan #hellfire #the hunchback of notre dame au #logan sanders #patton sanders #patton angst #kinda of Logan does threaten to burn him at the stake #ts patton #ts logan #frogs' writing #ts virgil #ts roman #the last two are briefly mentioned so don't get too excited #tw: religious themes #logicality #toxic logicality #unrequited logicality

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buckybarnesthehotshot · 4 years

Text

Into The Unknown VI: Sokovia (bucky barnes x f!reader)

series masterlist

series summary: y/n and James are to go on a quest together. Will they return? (fantasy au)

word count:

warnings: swearing, a bit of angst, talks of death, crappy writing, I never proofread anything,

taglist is open

a/n: take a shot everytime the word Sokovia is mentioned in this (there’s a lot of it in this chapter 💀) also reblogging this with tags later

It didn’t take too long for Sokovia to get in the sights of the pair. After all, the neighboring kingdom wasn’t too far and the ship they were on moved faster than the usual ships. y/n wondered if it had anything to do with the more mechanical elements to the ship.

“That’s Sokovia?” James questioned as the beautiful plant-filled kingdom of Sokovia came to view; its agriculture seemingly working with the physical structures the Sokovians built on the land. It was as though they’d found the perfect balance between nature and their structures to create the beauty known as Sokovia.

“Indeed, it is. It’s breathtaking, don’t you think?” y/n questioned, a smile on her face as she leaned ever so slightly on the railing on the deck.

“Now, I realize why you would want to run away to this place; New York is inferior to this kingdom’s surroundings,” James chuckled, his baby blues shining with excitement as they neared the kingdom.

“I wouldn’t call New York inferior, though Sokovia is a beautiful place. I’ll just say that New York has its own advantages, and so does Sokovia. We just have different ways of living as opposed to the way Sokovians live their lives,” y/n shrugged.

“Is that why we’re on the brink of cutting off all political ties with them?” James questioned, a curious expression on his face as y/n chuckled softly in response.

“You could say that, but that would be half the story. Despite the close relations between Wanda, Pietro, and I, their father isn’t too fond of my brother. It may be the gap between their generations, though I can never be too sure. You can never tell with royals,” y/n explained, earning a nod from James as the ship began to slow down.

“How are people in Sokovia? Do their morals differ from our own?” James questioned, his curiosity about Sokovia growing with every word that slipped past the girl’s lips.

“Well, the people here are kind and they enjoy draping themselves in colorful fabric; something you wouldn’t see in New York. In New York, our people tend to turn to more neutral or dark colors, with long sleeves, their boots, and such. In Sokovia, the weather isn’t as brutal as it is in New York, so the people are free to wear anything of their choice,” y/n gave a reminiscent smile, seemingly unable to properly explain the joys she experienced in Sokovia.

“So, how exactly does this ship dock?” James questioned, his brows furrowing as the kingdom’s port began to come into their view. y/n’s eyes widened, she knew nothing about the inner workings of the ship nor did she know how to do anything besides get on it and walk around.

“You see, James, I have no idea,” y/n spoke slowly and nervously. James’ eyes widened in panic, “Perhaps we may find something useful in the ship’s control room, though my brother told me not to fiddle with much there.”

“You should go. I’ll stay here and make sure the ship doesn’t crash into anything—somehow,” James gulped as the ship neared land.

y/n bolted to the space below the deck of the ship and headed to the ship’s control room; a series of buttons, all of which she didn’t know the purpose of. Did her brother not think to tell her about how the ship worked? Granted, she would have not been able to retain the information.

Of course, her brother was smarter than to leave them clueless. A piece of yellowed parchment stood out from all the metallic panels around it. y/n made her way towards it, smiling to herself as she read the note; one written by her brother.

“The red button lowers the anchor. If you don’t see this in time, I really do apologize,” the note read as y/n was quick to get her hands on the button, praying to herself that she’d stopped the ship somewhere near the docks. At this point, she thought to herself whether a self-steering ship was really something she’d prefer over one she knew she had control over.

Sure, she knew not how to captain a ship, but it couldn’t have been as complicated to figure out as the one her brother left her with. She rushed to the deck, smiling at the sight of the ship anchored right next to the dock of Sokovia.

“You figured out how to anchor the ship?” James questioned, an amused smile on his face as he began to set up the bridge between the ship and dock.

“That, I did,” y/n nodded in response as she helped him lift the bridge onto the dock.

“We aren’t going to be gunned down the moment we step foot on Sokovian land, are we?” James questioned nervously, as y/n furrowed her brows before an idea popped into her head.

“Of course, not! That would be preposterous,” y/n chuckled, leaning against the railing of the ship as she made her way off the railing, “James, you don’t happen to know a thing or two about how to keep a ship secure, do you?”

“Perhaps your brother implemented a security measure against that too?” James questioned, his brows furrowing as though he were in deep thought.

“Even if he did, I wouldn’t have a clue. So far, my knowledge of how the ship works is limited. Lowering the anchor is the only thing I know to do,” y/n chuckled.

“You claim you have connections here in Sokovia, do you not? Perhaps you could head to the palace while I guard the ship for now,” James smiled sincerely at y/n, who nodded in response.

“I’ll return as soon as I can,” y/n smiled, making her way off the wooden bridge, the waves shaking it ever so slightly.

She rushed through the ever so familiar path of Sokovia, her feet moving against the gray-bricked paths of the kingdom as the bright sun illuminated the colorful homes of the Sokovian people. As much as she wanted to stop and stroll the kingdom as she’d done multiple times before, she figured the quicker she could get to the castle, the quicker she’d be able to share the beauty of Sokovia with James; something she wished she could do with everybody.

To her, New York was too gloomy for her. She wondered about if the New Yorkers would change should they encounter the Sokovians. Would they change their ways for the better? y/n always found that Sokovia had a certain charm to it; almost as though the land was built on a land of magic and optimism.

“y/n, is that you?” a familiar voice came from behind her. She spun around to face Sam Wilson; the Head of Palace Security of Sokovia. A smile was painted on his face as he didn’t expect to see the h/c-haired girl back in Sokovia after he heard she’d gone back to her home kingdom.

“Actually, yeah. I was making my way to the palace to visit the twins,” y/n chuckled, earning a nod from Sam.

“I could take you there. I was on my way back to the palace, anyways,” Sam smiled down at her before asking, “Why are you back so soon?”

“I’ve been informed of the reason I was called back to the kingdom. My trip back to Sokovia is just somewhat a detour from the path I am to take,” y/n shrugged as Sam’s curiosity grew.

“May I know what the task is, or do I not have the clearance for that information?” Sam quipped, earning a chuckle from y/n.

“Well, it’s a matter of security with the kingdoms, but there would be no harm in letting you in on the secret, would there?” y/n quipped before explaining, “I, along with another troop from the kingdom, will be searching for the Eternals’ Gauntlet in an effort to defeating Thanos.”

“Defeating Thanos? That would be difficult,” Sam chimed in, his mouth agape in shock.

“Immensely. That’s why the gauntlet could be the key to ridding all the kingdoms of him,” y/n nodded.

“If you’re searching for something, why are you on Sokovia? Is it in the royal vault?” Sam questioned, his knowledge of the Gauntlet limited to the stories and rumors that have been circulating the kingdoms since the beginning of time. Many believed the gauntlet to be a myth, but one thing was certain; to come for the Gauntlet would be a death wish.

“No, I just came to say goodbye,” y/n explained, a sad smile on her face. Sam’s eyes widened in realization, knowing the meaning behind y/n’s smile.

“You don’t think you’re going to survive this trip, don’t you?” Sam questioned, a nervous expression on his face.

“How could I? There are the dangerous waters surrounding the island, the sea monster lurking in said waters, the thick forest? It’s practically a guaranteed death,” y/n smiled sadly before nodding to herself, “When we arrive at the palace, would you please send a pair of guards to the docks to fetch my travelling companion. Leave one to guard the ship, and one to bring James to the palace, please.”

“I’ll see to it that it’s done,” Sam nodded as they got through the gates of the palace, now walking through the massive garden owned by the royal family of Sokovia.

“y/n!” a voice exclaimed as she found herself being tacked into a bush, a pair of slender arms wrapped around her shoulders. After the impact, she opened her eyes to see Wanda there, a bashful smile on her face.

“Hey, Wanda. I didn’t think you’d be out in the garden,” y/n chuckled, getting up and wiping the dirt and grass off her tunic and trousers.

“Things in the palace have gotten quiet without you around, so I figured I’d take a stroll outside,” Wanda shrugged, “Well, you’ve returned, so there’s no need for me to be outside again!”

y/n knew her friend despised leaving the comforts of the palace. Wanda preferred to spend most of her time indoors, away from the scorching sun.

“Well, I won’t be here long, I just came for a visit,” y/n shrugged, earning a look from Wanda.

“Don’t tell me you actually plan on staying longer in New York! y/n, of all places, why would you choose to stay in that miserable kingdom!” Wanda huffed, pretending to faint at her own mention of New York.

“Wanda, first off, it was the kingdom I was born into and I am, for now, second in line for the throne there. And second, trust me, I’d rather spend my time in Sokovia if I had a choice,” y/n chuckled as Wanda’s brows furrowed in concern.

“Please, don’t tell me Anthony plans to step down from his position as king. You and I both know the crown would weigh heavy on your head as queen,” Wanda chimed in, a worried, but knowing expression on her face.

“y/n? Queen? We should be worried if that ever happens,” a voice chimed in from behind the pair. Pietro, Wanda’s twin brother, stood there, smiling down at the pair.

“I’d make a better ruler than you ever would, Pietro,” y/n chuckled, ruffling his gray hair with her fingers, earning a scowl from the prince.

“Seeing as you already told your people you would never take the crown, there would be no way for us to figure out who the better ruler would be,” Pietro shrugged, earning a chuckle from y/n.

“Unless, of course, you both marry each other in an attempt to stop father from waging war against New York,” Wanda suggested bashfully as both y/n and Pietro shook their heads.

“Me? Marry Pietro? That’s unlikely,” y/n chuckled before her face fell as she got ready to drop the news on the twins, “It’s not like I’ll be living much longer, anyways.”

“y/n, what do you mean?” Wanda questioned, her brows furrowing with concern.

“I was called back to New York so my brother could send me off on a ship to an island near Asgard in search of—” y/n tried to explain slowly and vaguely, only to be interrupted by Pietro.

“The Eternals’ Gauntlet,” Pietro whispered softly, his expression hardening at the thought of the Gauntlet itself.

“Mhm,” y/n hummed lowly in response as confusion grew on Wanda’s face.

“The Eternals’ Gauntlet? Like the one mother used to tell us about in our younger years? I thought that was a myth,” Wanda’s lips pursed together as she couldn’t find the words to express her feelings.

“Well, it exists,” Pietro spoke slowly.

“Why is it that nobody’s come for it yet? Surely, an object so powerful would have many attempt to pursue it,” Wanda’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Many have tried. They perished,” y/n chuckled nervously as Wanda’s eyes widened in concern.

“y/n, why is it that your brother’s sending you to collect the gauntlet?” Pietro questioned, concern also laced in his features.

“Thanos has been a prominent threat to the kingdoms. My brother fears our troops may not be able to handle the battle that would ensue if he made his way to New York,” y/n explained nervously, earning a nod from Pietro.

“Can we at least discuss this over a meal?” Wanda chimed in, finally figuring out the reasoning behind y/n’s visit.

“I’ll meet you in the palace. I just need to wait for my travelling companion, since I had Sam call for him,” y/n explained, earning a nod of understanding from the twins as they headed into the palace to request for the staff to prepare a table for them to talk.

It didn’t take long for Sam to return with James in tow. The pair seemed to even get along quite swimmingly as they chatted their way into the gates of the palace.

“What are you doing in the grass?” Sam questioned, raising a brow at y/n as he saw the girl sitting there as though in deep thought.

“Waiting for you both,” y/n shrugged, pulling herself off the ground and sending James a smile.

“You could’ve waited inside the palace, you know that, right?” Sam questioned, a chuckle erupting from his throat.

“Well, I guess I’d rather be in this marvelous garden then indoors,” y/n shrugged as she made her way into the palace, the guards and staff greeting her with a slight nod of their heads. They all knew who she was. After all, when she chose to stay in Sokovia, she frequented the palace because Wanda didn’t want to leave to visit the inn she’d stayed in.

“She seems rather familiar with her surroundings here,” James commented, earning a chuckle from Sam as he shrugged.

“An outsider could mistake her for one of the heirs to the Sokovian throne with how often she was in the palace,” Sam explained, earning a nod from James, “I couldn’t blame her, though. Sokovia is far better compared to New York.”

“As a New Yorker, I’d like to disagree, but from what I’ve seen so far, Sokovia is rather impressive,” James smiled, still taking in his surroundings. The royal palace of Sokovia was grand; so grand, in fact, that the chandeliers on the ceiling made it appear as though the ceiling was dripping with diamonds, which he’d never seen in the palace of New York. Not even the Princess’ bedroom (which he’d only seen once) could compare to how lavish the marble hall they were walking in was.

“Princess y/n, Princess Wanda and Prince Pietro requested that I escort you to the private dining area,” a staff member, clad in a blue uniform with her hair tied up in an elegant-looking bun, informed them, earning a smile from y/n.

“Of course. Thank you,” y/n nodded as she followed after the woman, both Sam and James still in tow as they followed her.

“Travelling companion, huh?” Wanda smirked as y/n, James, and Sam entered the room, the unfamiliar brunette immediately catching Wanda’s interest.

“Don’t do that,” y/n chuckled as Wanda motioned for them to take a seat at the lavish marble table, plates of steaming food on the plates set up in front of the seat. James stood frozen in his place, unsure with whether or not he should take a seat or just stand by the door.

“Are you not going to take a seat?” Wanda questioned, turning to face Bucky with her blue eyes studying his expression. Then she turned to y/n who was already settling into the comforts of the plush velvet dining chair, “And are you not going to introduce your travelling companion to us?”

“James, get over here, you’re a guest too,” y/n insisted, motioning for James to take the seat next to her. He hesitated, only really making his way to the table when Sam gave him a small nudge as he motioned towards the seat too, “James, I’d like you to meet Prince Pietro and Princess Wanda of Sokovia.”

“Oh, it’s an honor, your highness,” James’ eyes widened as he rushed to take a bow in front of the pair after he was seated.

“Both of you, please, eat up, we all have a lot to talk about,” Wanda insisted. y/n had no hesitation as she began cutting into the cooked meat she was served on her plate. She found it rather amazing how the kitchen staff managed to pull together a meal within minutes of her arrival to the palace.

“James, are you not hungry? I could always take your food if you don’t have much of an appetite,” Pietro grinned, practically eyeing the plate of food in front of James.

“Oh—” James started to tell Pietro he could have the food before he was cut off by Wanda.

“Pietro, let the man eat,” Wanda rolled her eyes, smacking Pietro’s shoulder before turning to James, “Please, eat. Being stuck on a ship with y/n must have been exhausting.”

“That was rude,” y/n mumbled under her breath before also turning to face James, “Seriously, though, eat. I believe we left rather early, and I’m assuming you didn’t have much time to eat breakfast either.”

And with her words, he timidly took the fork as he began to indulge in the food presented in front of him by the Sokovians.

#bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #winter solider imagine #winter solider x you #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine

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notyetneedcoffee · 5 years

Text

Wrong Number

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: +18 for smutty dirty talk

* * *

“Thank god you answered. I need you to save me.”

There was a long pause. You knew you sounded desperate.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky Barnes stopped dead in the street forcing several people to weave around him. He looked at the phone in his hand, not recognizing your smooth female voice. The number was not familiar either.

“From what?”

“This team building, touchy-feely conference is going to make me vomit, and if I don’t convince Kevin -” you said the name with distain, “that I have a boyfriend, I’m going to be forced to stab him in the neck with my pen. I like this pen. It’s a Monte Blanc. It doesn’t deserve to be bloodied up.”

The man on the other end of the line chuckled. It was deep and rich. And, completely unfamiliar. You whispered. “This isn’t Joey, is it?”

“Nope, sorry. Name’s Bucky.” Came his amused response. “But I can’t refuse a dame in distress. Anything I can do to help? I’d hate to see you have to resort to stabbings.”

You laughed. Not only did this man’s voice feel like audible whiskey, he was willing to play along. “Really? You’re an angel.”

“No one’s ever accused me of that.”

“Even better.” You smirked. The annoying executive from Palm Springs, Kevin, drifted closer to you. He tried to be discrete, but instead came off as a creeper. You switched to a fake conversation. “I told you, Love, I can’t get out of this. I’m stuck here until Friday night and before you ask, no you can’t come.”

“Is Kevin there?” Bucky asked.

“You’re right.” You sighed, as if answering something completely different.

“Is he close enough to over-hear if you held the phone out?”

“Oh, sure.” You purred.

Damn. His low chuckle sounded like pure sin and caused your crossed legs to tighten.

“Okay Doll, here’s what I want you to do. I’m going to explain exactly why ‘your boyfriend’ wants to be there, and in shock, you’re going to hold the phone out a little. Turn the volume up a touch so he catches what I’m saying.”

You giggled. “There’s a reason I adore you.”

He laughed. “Ready?”

“Oh yes” you breathed, a little heady. Kevin looked sideways at you.

“Come on, Doll, you know you want me there.” Bucky’s voice rumbled through the phone. “It hasn’t been that long, but my cock is aching for that tight pussy of yours. You need me to fuck you senseless. I know it ‘cause I’m ready right now to bury myself in that wet cunt. I want to taste you everywhere, goddamn Doll, I can imagine your honey on my tongue. Let me come and set you on fire. I don’t care if the whole conference hears you scream, cause Baby, when you come all over me it’s the most beautiful sight in the world. I know I’ve wrecked you for any other man, haven’t I? The way you come for me again and again. I don’t think we can survive until Friday. If you make me wait, when I get ahold of you, I’m going to fuck you until we both pass out.”

You didn’t need to fake the flush on your cheeks. His words, his voice, soaked your panties.

It did the job. Kevin blanched, then reddened, before making a quick escape to the other side of the lounge.

“Oh, you are so good.” You smiled wickedly. “Your real girlfriend is a lucky lady.”

“Got rid of him, huh?” He was silent a moment. “Ain’t got a girl.”

You cradled the phone closer, turning more fully to the bar and waved for another drink. “Shame. Good sense of humor. Quick on mark. Great voice. Extra bonus points for the dirty talk. You even came to my rescue. I’d say you’re quite the catch.”

You could hear his breath, as if he were holding the phone very close to his face. Finally, he spoke quietly. “That’s nice, but you don’t know me, Doll.”

“Well,” you rolled the amber liquid around in your glass. “Now that I don’t have creepy dude breathing down my neck, we could actually have a conversation.”

Again, silence stretched for a moment. Background voices became clearer and somewhat insistent, though you couldn’t make out all the words. Bucky’s voice suddenly filled you ear with a clipped tone. “Good luck with things. I have to go.”

The phone went dead. Well, damn.

You finished your drink alone, imagining what kind of man could possess that voice, dripping with smoked honey and filthy words. You blamed your warm skin on the alcohol, but the slick between your legs resulted from that interaction.

Bucky. That’s what he said his name was. Before you could lose it, you saved the best wrong number you’d ever dialed to your contacts.

* * *

“What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Sam Wilson nudged Bucky in the shoulder, earning a glare that would terrify most.

“Something is bothering you, Buck.” Steve Rogers punched the up elevator button again. They’d gone to an emergency briefing and his friend seemed distracted the whole time. “I can tell.”

Bucky just shook his head slightly, frowning. Steve’s head dropped to one side in a clear ‘really?’ expression. He sighed. “I was speaking with someone on the phone when you guys came to get me, and I realized I never got her name. That’s all.”

“HER name?!” Sam grinned. “What, pray tell, were you talking to HER about?”

“Can it.”

“C’mon. Who is she?” Sam beamed and they all piled in the elevator. “If you’ve got her number, you know we can get, like, everything on this girl. We do have spies here, you know?”

“Sam.” Steve warned as Bucky looked murderous. “If Buck wants to find her, he’s got the know how to do it. Let him be.” Then just to dig a little, he added. “It’s not like she could have made that much of an impression. He didn’t even get her name.”

When the elevator doors opened on the living quarters floor, Bucky bolted straight to his suite. Fuck those guys.

All evening he kept staring at his phone. Her number was there. He could call her. Of course, she’d probably be sleeping by now. What time did normal people go to bed? Plus, she was at some sort of conference, which probably meant early morning meetings. Yes, he decided, she was probably sleeping.

He watched another hour of the history channel before the lure the phone had it in his hands. He could just text her.

Sorry I ditched the call so fast. Work.

There, he felt a little better. He apologized. Sort of.

The beep of his phone made him jump. He looked at the words in shock.

It’s ok. Glad you texted. Would still love to talk some time when I’m not tucked into bed, unless pillow talk is an option! Call me after my sessions. 1600 tomorrow?

You answered him back..

I don’t think I gave my name. It’s Y/N, but you can still call me Doll if you want.

Buck smiled at his phone and said your name aloud, tasting it on his lips.

I’ll talk to you tomorrow. ‘Night. B

He threw the phone down, smiling to himself.

He got ready for bed. Sam’s words began plaguing him as he brushed his teeth. He could look her up. It’s not like people didn’t put their whole lives on the internet for anyone to see these days. Even though he never uses any of that stuff, and didn’t even know how, Bucky knew just who to ask.

“Friday,” he called out to the building’s AI as he sat back in front of the big screen.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes. How may I assist you?”

“If I provide you with a name and a phone number, can you show me if they have any stuff on the internet?”

“Of course.” Bucky spoke your name and phone number. Almost immediately images began to fill the screen. Friday offered a summary. “Y/N, age 33. Born in San Francisco, California. Is a medical doctor with a degree from Stanford Medical University. She is currently employed with the CDC in the city of New York. Five years ago she filed for divorce from her husband only 5 months after –“

Bucky put both hands in the air. “Stop! This isn’t what I was looking for…”

The AI voiced a disturbingly thorough list of information that could be obtained with just a name and cell phone number. He stopped her again. “Friday, is there’s anything on Social Media, stuff she’s shared openly.”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes.” The screen opened to an Instagram account and a Facebook page.

Bucky stared at her profile picture. He picked up the controller and began to skim through the posts full of dark humor, beautiful smiles, random things around the city, and for some reason, her toes. There were pictures of her toes in the grass at the park, in the sand at the beach, propped on the rail of a balcony. He found it oddly adorable.

He found a short video of her trying to say a tongue twister. There was that voice. This was definitely her. Bucky watched the video clip again. Finally, he went to bed, her voice in his head.

* * *

Your phone rang at 4:02, just as you stepped out of the elevator on the fourteenth floor. “Hello, stranger.”

“Hi, Y/N.” Bucky sounded tentative. “Is now okay?”

“Sure, I’m just getting back to my room. We’ve got a two-hour break before a boring ass dinner with a keynote speaker.”

“Any trouble with Kevin?” He asked.

You giggled. “None at all. In fact, he turned the brightest shade of red. Poor fellow, got all muddled looking. All day he kept stealing glances my way, so I kept checking my phone and subtly acting hot and bothered.”

“You’re mean.” He laughed.

“He’s a jerk, and if his pompous ass can’t handle the thought of a man being more virile that he is, tough shit.” You giggled again. “Besides, it was fun.”

“See. Mean.” Bucky grew more serious. “Didn’t mean to cut you off like that. Just some guys I, uh, work with came up with an urgent matter.”

“At least they didn’t walk up to hear you say you want to bury your cock in my wet cunt.” You purred, smiling to yourself as you kicked off your shoes and laid back on the hotel bed. A long silence followed. “Bucky?”

“Sorry.” His rich voice sounded an octave or two lower. “I’m, uh, it’s just -” He stumbled for a moment before falling silent again.

You frowned, asking quietly. “Did I go too far?”

“No.” His voice still held that deep sexy tone, only softer. “I’m just not real used to hearing such things from a woman’s lips, and -” he took a deep breath, “your voice is like silk. It just does things to me.”

“Mmm, good to know I’m not the only one affected by our conversations.” You purred.

“Damn, Doll.” Bucky chuckled. “I don’t even know you, but I could listen to you all day. And I hate being on the phone.”

You wanted to crawl through the line and see if he looked and felt as good as he sounded. “Well, I sure am happy to have dialed a wrong number.”

“Me too. Uh, who were trying to reach when I got so lucky?” Bucky asked.

“Joey. He’s friend from my building. Both him and his husband both work at home, so I thought of them first. I don’t know why.”

“You don’t have him in your contacts?”

“No, new number and I just had it jotted on a post it.” You stared out the window at the rain pelting down. Your phone said it was nice at home. “So, you’ve got a New York number. Is that home?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.” You smiled to yourself.

“Where are you now?” Bucky asked. You heard something conspicuously like a bottle of beer – or a soda, but probably as beer – being opened.

“Orlando. It’s a conference on pandemics. Unfortunately, it’s less science and more ‘we all just need to get along’ communication bullshit.” You sighed. “I’m probably being harsh, but there’s better things I could be doing with my time.”

“So, you’re what? A doctor?” Bucky asked, although he already knew the answer.

“Yes. But I do research, not practice. What about you? What do you do when you’re not saving ladies from creepers?”

“That’s pretty much my job.” He deadpanned.

You busted up. Typical.

“I’m - um – you could say I’m in the high-stakes security business.” Bucky answered when your laugh faded away.

“Can’t really talk about it?” You knew a lot of federal agents and private security officers through your work. They didn’t talk about their work either.

“Something like that.” He hesitated.

“Well, then, if you can’t tell me about your work,” You purred, “you’ll just have to tell me what gets your motor running, Bucky.”

“Oh, really?” His chuckle came deep from his chest.

“Yeah, and don’t give me any ‘slow jazz, sunsets and long walks on the beach’ horseshit.”

He laughed, full and light. “But I like jazz.”

* * *

Getting through the conference with a bunch of phone calls and regular text exchanges with Bucky turned out to be much better than the first few days without. His humor was dark and sarcastic. Although you didn’t delve into anything about his work, and you both kept the exchanges fun, you felt like you’d gotten to know him well. How could you feel a closer connection to someone you’d never met, than you did with the last man you dated for two months?

Bucky had sent you a text stating that he would be on a job and unreachable for several days on the night you arrived back in New York. It was sweet the way he wanted to assure you that he would call, and he felt bad he could only text a farewell. You assured him you understood. He called you an amazing dame.

Work the next week barely allowed for time to miss the text exchanges, so much had piled up in your absence. On Wednesday, you were thirty-two pages into the clinical results of a recent test when the phone beside you rang.

“Dr. Y/L/N.” You answered.

“Good morning, Y/N. It’s Rebecca Kim.”

You recognized the name immediately. She was a private researcher and you both served on several committees together. “Oh, hi. What can I do for you?”

“We’ve had a situation,” Dr. Kim used the term loosely. “There’s a potential exposure here. It looks like, damn I’m not certain, but it might be XF3058.”

You froze. It was a designer pathogen, a targeted and weaponized disease. All the information on XF3058 was highly confidential, kept under tight security. “Is it active, or inert?”

“Currently Inert. But the subject shows signs of full infection and he was among the populous. I need help here.”

“I’m on my way.”

It only took twenty minutes to pack up what you needed and catch a cab to Stark Tower. Rebecca waited for you in the lobby. You would need escorting to the top security research levels. You’d only been here twice before. It was like Candy-Land, all the best tech.

The two of you were joined by Doctor Banner. He was a kind man, bright and quick to offer you a smile. “So, you’re here help figure out if we’re all doomed?”

“It’s a targeted pathogen.” You shrugged. “Unless you have the correct genes, we’re not ALL doomed.”

“We just don’t know how many people it could infect.” He nodded.

“My last estimate was .14% of the populace could be potential targets, which is still hundreds of thousands of people on the eastern seaboard alone.” You began reviewing the data.

Nearly seven hours later the computer in front of you beeped, indicating the test simulation finalized. Looking at the report, you jumped up. “Yes!”

“What?” Banner removed his glasses.

“Gotcha, you little bastard.” You pointed at the screen before turning to the other two in the room. “I’ve been running down the genetic signature. This is an old strain. The degradation in the proteins made me think about sixty years. I then pulled the profiles of the known examples of that time frame, and I can say conclusively this is from the Cold War lab of one Kazimir Maksimov. I’ve got the exact genetic sequenced.”

“So, we can engineer an antidote.” Rebecca sighed. “I’ll get the system on it right away.”

“I’m going to take Dr. Y/L/N up to brief the team.” Doctor Banner stood.

You followed him out of the room and up in bright steel elevators. It wasn’t until then than by ‘team’ he meant ‘Avengers’. Nervously, you smoothed your clothes and tried to check your reflection in the metal wall.

“Don’t worry. They’ll just be glad you found the solution.” Bruce smiled.

“Kinda wish I’d at least been wearing something other than jeans the first time I meet Stark, you know.”

He laughed. “Tony’s all bark and no bite. If he gives you shit, give it right back.”

The elevators doors opened and Bruce led you to a glass encased conference room. Tony Stark, a red-head woman, and sandy-haired man stood around an interactive screen at the end of the room. “Hey guys,” They all turned when you entered. “This is Dr. Y/N. She’s the one Becca brought in. We’ve got news. She’s worked it out.”

“Ah, the CDC doc.” Stark propped a hip on table. “So why aren’t you here working for me?”

“You haven’t offered.” You retorted with a smile. “Can I pull up my files from here?”

Turns out Stark and the others, Natasha and Clint, were far more forthcoming with the details. The victim of the pathogen was actually a Hydra agent taken down in the process of eliminating a hold-out base. They weren't sure if he’d been exposed when the building blew, if he’d been accidentally exposed or purposefully infected.

You were explaining that the virus had been in his system for at least four days when he died, and had they’d not killed him, he would have died within 24-hours. He’d been infectious for seventy-two hours.

“Well, it’s a good thing they decided to torch the place. We didn’t find any survivors after that.” Natasha drawled.

“It’s still hard to believe they just kill them all.” A strong voice came down the hall.

“That’s the way those assholes work, you know that. No loose ends.”

Your head snapped around. You knew that voice. Two extraordinarily handsome men came in. One you recognized immediately as Steve Rogers. The other, he had the voice of liquid sex. Nearly the same height as Captain America, strong – damn look at those thighs – and dark haired, your mouth fell open at the sight of him. His blue eyes locked on yours and he stood a little straighter.

No one missed the exchange, looking back and forth between the two of you.

“Bucky?” You breathed.

A sly smile grew on his face, and you felt yourself flush. “Hey, Doll.”

“Okay, how do you know the good Doctor and I don’t?” Stark scoffed.

“Not your business.” Bucky leveled a solemn stare at Tony.

“Yeah, well.” Bruce interjected. “Doctor Y/N has uncovered the source of the pathogen and we’re working on antidote if it becomes necessary.”

“I thought you said that could take days.” Steve asked Banner.

“She’s good.” He shrugged.

“And I still don’t know why she’d not working for me!” Tony threw his hands in the air.

“I’ve told you before. You’ve yet to make an offer." You threw back at Stark, but your eyes still had not left Bucky. Your brain spun. Thankfully common decency kept your feet planted in place, because every cell in your body wanted to touch him, to smell and taste his skin.

“I may have to change that.” He grumbled.

“You know where my office is.” You finally looked back at the group. “It’s been a long day. I think you’ve got what you need for now. Is there any objection if I call it night?”

“I may have to contact you about the final reports, but that can wait.” Bruce nodded.

“I may have to contact you about what sort of furniture you want in your office.” Tony smirked. Then he waved his hand towards the door. “Go on, get going. We’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Bucky stated immediately.

You both walked to the elevator side by side, not speaking. You stopped at the doors, facing each other. He hit the button, giving you a shy – oh my god – smile.

“So.” You sighed, “an Avenger, huh?”

“Of sorts. Steve brought me in a while back.”

“Ah,” You took his metal hand in yours. All the pieces click in place in your mind. “I seem to remember seeing a briefing about that somewhere.”

You could see the concern in his eyes. You didn’t know much about him. You did know he was enhanced, by Hydra, with a derivative of the same serum used on the Captain. Other than the friendship between the two men, you didn’t know much else from his past.

“Does that bother you?” He asked finally.

You smiled up at him. “Not in the least.”

The elevator doors opened and you stepped inside. Even though the car was empty, you remained close enough to feel the heat rise off of him. “Smart, funny, and gorgeous.” Bucky moved a strand of your hair off your shoulder. “And you smell incredible.”

You placed your hands on his strong chest. He was magnetic, a forceful draw. His hand cupped your cheek, a simple gesture that felt so intimate in this small space. His other hand slapped the stop button, halting your progress. Everything stood still.

“Hey.” He breathed, face close to yours.

“Hey, back.” You whispered.

Bucky’s mouth touched yours, soft full lips brushing lightly. When you smiled into the kiss, his tongue reached for permission but was met with your own. Flaring from sweet to fevered, he pulled you tight against him. Wet, hot, your mouths explored one another.

He turned, pinning you against the wall, hands roaming over your body. You clung to him, fingers in his hair and relishing in the hard muscles pressed against you. When his mouth trailed down to your neck, you breathed out a heavy “Holy shit, it’s good to meet you.”

He laughed against your skin. “Pleasures all mine.”

You took his face in your hands and kissed him again before sighing. “This elevator is probably monitored, huh?”

“Definitely.” He stepped back a bit, allowing you to stand fully on your own feet. “And I’ve been dying to ask you out. Dinner?”

“How about pizza?” You gave him a devilish grin. “We could order in.”

“Anything you want, Doll. Pizza in sounds perfect.”

Bucky released the elevator but hit a different floor than the lobby. The doors quickly opened to an obvious residential floor. You laughed, “Damn, that’s convenient.”

He took your hand and led you down the hall. “I aim to please.”

“I have no doubt.”

You glanced sideways at his sparkling blue eyes, utterly taken by the intensity as he stared at you. The smell of him drew you closer. He smiled as you leaned into him.

Damn he was glad he answered that unknown number.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #fanfic #mcu #bucky barnes smut #bucky fanfic

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justanother-unluckysoul · 4 years

Text

OUAT Fic: For Love And Revenge, PG-13, Killian/Milah

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Killian Jones, Rumpelstiltskin

Word count: 2867

Summary: "His arm throbs in time with his pulse and his heart aches, and he can’t tell if that’s an emotional pain from losing the love of his life or a real remnant of the Dark One’s attempt to rip out his heart. " Killian tries to come to terms with losing Milah and his hand. Tag to 2x04.

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.

A/N: Apologies for taking this fic down earlier but I wasn’t fully happy with how I’d written certain things. But it’s back now and with an extra thousand words! (I only intended to tidy up a few parts but oops, I may have gotten carried away.)

For Love And Revenge

“Even demons can be killed,” Killian is aiming for a threatening snarl, but his voice cracks, “I will find a way.”

“Well, good luck living long enough,” replies Rumpelstiltskin, somehow still managing to taunt him even with a hook stuck in his chest, and he disappears in a dark red cloud.

The hook clatters to the deck. Of course it couldn’t have been that easy to kill him, else the Dark One would never have left himself open to such an attack. Killian’s balance feels off as he picks up the hook. Anger and fear can only drive a wounded man so far, and Killian quickly realizes he's reached the end of its capacity to keep him going. And suddenly his legs don't want to hold him up, and he feels like he's going to be sick. He stumbles to the rail of the ship. He doesn't vomit though, and after a brief interval wondering if he will or not, Killian turns and slumps down to the deck, his back against the railing. His first mate, John, is at his side in a moment.

"Get me something to tie off his arm!" calls John, raising Killian's left arm to slow the bleeding.

There's a flurry of movement. Killian's eyes are drawn back to Milah's body. He reaches for her but she’s further away than he thought. He’s suddenly desperate to have her back in his arms, but someone is holding him down and a scream of rage and grief builds in his throat. He doesn’t even have the strength to voice it. A strange coldness has taken over him. He feels as though he’s in a dream. John is tying something tightly around his forearm. Maybe a belt.

"You're gonna be alright, Captain," John says, "But I need you to stay awake, you understand?"

"Aye," murmurs Killian.

He has every intention of staying awake, but when he's pulled to his feet, the world slips away from him.

He dreams of crocodiles and hooks and Milah dying in his arms. He wakes with her name on his lips.

"Easy, now," says a stranger, "Don't be moving around just yet."

Killian recoils, not recognizing where he is, nor the man leaning over him. He’s also none too pleased to realize that he’s shirtless. Lurching sideways, he rolls off the table and he's on his feet in a quick movement. The action awakens all sorts of aches and pains in his body, dizziness suddenly overwhelming, and he reaches for the edge of the table with his left hand to steady himself. There's a brief moment of sickening realization, but it's too late. Killian goes down hard and barely avoids smacking his head on the table on his way. The fall jars his wounded arm, sending shooting pains from his wrist to his elbow and Killian barely holds in a scream.

"Oi, what did I just tell you?" the stranger says, sounding annoyed.

He hauls Killian to his feet and deposits him back on the table with ease, uncaring of the discomfort the further abrupt motion causes to Killian. The stranger is a big man, Killian thinks, and one he could not take in a fight in this condition. So Killian stays where he's put, cradling his burning left arm, hoping that his carefully measured breaths will quell the churning in his stomach. His head is pounding. If Killian didn't know better, he'd almost believe he'd had too much rum the night before. But he does know better, as his mind helpfully supplies him with the vivid memory of Milah going limp in his arms as the Dark One crushed her heart into dust. Killian’s jaw clenches and he shakes his head a little to dispel the image.

"Drink, it will help with the sickness," says the stranger, his voice gentler now that Killian’s being compliant.

Speaking of rum…Killian takes the offered cup and sniffs it cautiously before taking a sip. It’s not rum, of course. It's hot, spicy, somehow feeling both warming and cooling in his mouth. He finishes it quickly and his stomach does feel calmer having done so, so he risks a closer look at his... He was going to call it his hand but it's not anymore, is it? Well, whatever. It's wrapped tightly in thick bandages, blood peeking through faintly, and he can't quite believe that his hand is really gone. He can almost feel his fingers, imagines that if he tried, he could still clench his missing hand into a fist. But obviously when he tries to do that there's no response from his phantom hand. An uncomfortable shiver runs down his spine and Killian swiftly forces his attention outward.

“I assume this is your handiwork?” he asks of the stranger.

"Yes."

“Then I believe you’ve saved my life. You have my thanks.”

Killian's gratitude sounds hollow even to his own ears. The physician only grunts in response and drapes a rather scratchy blanket around Killian. He’s thankful for the security it offers. His shirts are in a blood-stained pile on the floor, except for his leather coat, which the physician has kindly hung on a hook by the door.

“The wound was partially healed already, by magic, I’m told,” the physician explains, “You are a lucky man, Captain. Whoever did this to you wanted you to live.”

There’s a clear question on the man’s face, although he doesn’t voice it and Killian would refuse to answer anyway. A lucky man. He’s the furthest thing from lucky. He’d rather be dead than live a day without Milah. But he had sworn he’d find a way to kill the Dark One, and Killian’s tired misery slowly ignites to anger again. There are footsteps outside the door, and it swings open to reveal John, carrying clean clothes.

"Captain," John says in greeting, and he looks as though he would say something further but thinks better of it.

“If you’re going to ask me when he can leave, the answer is when he can stand up without falling on his face,” the physician declares.

Killian bristles at that.

“I’m fine,” he growls.

And to prove it he forces himself to stand again, though he’s prepared for the dizzy spell this time, and remembers to balance himself with the right hand. But even after the dizziness abates, it’s still a struggle to remain on his feet. Everything hurts. And the physician only raises an eyebrow at Killian’s efforts, clearly not convinced of his ability to leave.

“And without using the table as a crutch?” he asks, even daring to smirk a little.

Killian wants to punch the man for taking that tone with him. Instead he grits his teeth and lets go of the table, clenching his hand into a fist to try to stop it shaking. He doesn't need help. Putting on his shirt and coat proves a little tricky with one hand and his centre of balance refusing to settle, but a warning glance at John keeps his first mate back. He doesn't need help.

“Make sure he gets plenty of rest,” the physician tells John, not Killian, as though John has any say in what his Captain does, “His body has been through a lot. And if he gets feverish--”

"Got it,” snaps Killian, heading for the door before the physician can make any more demands, probably to do with leeches or something.

The walk back to the Jolly Roger is miserable and Killian quickly regrets turning down John’s offer to find him a cart to ride back in. Now he can’t hear John’s words clearly over the rushing sound in his ears that grows louder the further he pushes himself, and eventually John stops trying. Killian’s too focused on walking in a straight line to care what John has to say anyway. His arm throbs in time with his pulse and his heart aches, and he can’t tell if that’s an emotional pain from losing the love of his life or a real remnant of the Dark One’s attempt to rip out his heart. Finally the ship comes into view. Killian steps onto the deck, planting his feet firmly, forcing a smile at his relieved crew. But he knows his body is moments away from betraying him. He mumbles an excuse and quickly heads for his quarters. He barely makes it down the ladder and when he steps off onto the floor, Killian nearly collapses right there. It’s an effort to stagger the last few steps to the bed, and he barely avoids landing on his wounded arm when he flops onto the mattress. He hates being so weak.

Killian's not sure how long it's been before he feels recovered enough to rise. He must have lain there all night because shortly after the fog in his mind dissipates, John brings him food and water, and reminds him that it's time to change the bandages. Killian can’t bring himself to eat. He takes several mouthfuls of rum instead and his eyes dare John to say anything about it. John wisely keeps his mouth shut on the subject.

"Tommy had this made for you," John says instead, and he deposits what appears to be a pile of leather on the table before leaving Killian to his unpleasant task.

Carefully, Killian unwinds the bandages from his… he still catches himself thinking hand. But looking at the swollen, disfigured mess that is the end of his arm for the first time pushes that thought out of his mind. It’s obvious that Rumpelstiltskin’s magical healing had been carefully designed to keep him alive with no regard for anything else. A horrible cold feeling washes over Killian and he can barely hold his right hand steady as he pours some of the rum over his wound to stave off infection, the agony of it nearly more than he can take. There’ll be no leeches around here, just a waste of good rum. It’s a small price to pay. When the pain eases and Killian can see clearly again, he risks standing and examining the item John had left for him. It’s a leather sleeve of sorts designed to fit over the stump of his arm. It has a hole in the centre so Killian can attach a tool of his choice to it, in place of a hand, and straps to hold it firmly in place. He's seen several men with similar fashions. He never dreamed he'd wear one himself.

Once he’s sure he can walk straight, Killian returns to the deck, wounded arm still tucked close to his side. It feels better though, now protected by the leather. The deck has been well scrubbed clean of his blood and… other things. Milah’s crushed heart, Killian’s cruel mind reminds him, ignoring the attempt he’d made to not think of that. But he slips easily back into his role as Captain, barking out orders and shortly they are heading out to sea. Preparing Milah’s body for her burial is a tricky thing with one hand, not helped by the fact that his one hand won’t stop shaking, but the crew has wisely and unanimously decided to leave him to it.

"I will avenge you, love," Killian murmurs to her, emotion choking his voice, "I promise."

Moments later her body is gone, committed to the sea. Killian straightens his back, clenches his jaw. The need for revenge burns in his soul and gives him strength. He knows exactly what he’s going to use in place of his left hand and where he’s going next. Neverland. He’s going to make sure he lives long enough to follow through with his threat of killing Rumpelstiltskin.

Neverland's weather is settled, almost too warm but with a cool breeze that offsets the heat in the sun. Killian finds himself wondering if it does ever change, as he sits on a wooden crate on the Jolly Roger's deck and sharpens his hook. It was already quite sharp to begin with, but Killian wants it to be more so. He imagines how it will now slice into the crocodile’s chest even smoother than the last time and he feels a flicker of sadistic satisfaction just at the thought of it, although whether or not this is a weapon he can actually kill the Dark One with remains to be seen.

Killian’s crew treats him differently now and Killian hates it. They didn’t question his decision to come to Neverland, at least not to his face. But he notices their whispers, their looks of sympathy, and he hates how they always rush to help him pull a rope or lift something heavy before he can even attempt to do it himself. And he really hates how he keeps forgetting that he doesn't have a left hand anymore, although he could swear he still feels it there at the end of his arm, and he'll hold out his "hand" for a crew member to pass him something, and when nothing happens, he will turn to them in confusion and a bit of frustration, and they'll be looking back at him with pity because he's reached out with his hook instead. And he will snatch the item out of their hands with his good hand (his only hand) and shout at them to bloody do something else, anything to stop them looking at him like he's broken. Like he's weak. Like he needs any help at all.

Several hours later Killian finds himself regretting ever increasing the sharpness of the hook, as he sits at the table in his quarters with blood streaming down his cheek. He'd distractedly gone to scratch an itch there and once again forgot for a moment that his left hand was gone. He'd only remembered when he saw shiny metal coming for his face, but it was too late to stop the motion completely, only to lighten the intended touch. Otherwise the damage would have been a lot worse. With a growl of annoyance at his own stupidity, he grabs a clean kerchief from the drawer and presses it against his face. Killian feels like a damn fool. What will his crew think? They already see him as an invalid. No, Killian thinks, they'll never know the truth of this. Because he's a good liar, he knows, falsehoods always flowing easily from his tongue. The cut doesn't bleed much, thankfully, and when Killian looks in the mirror, he can tell it doesn't need stitching. Another thing to be thankful for because while he's sewed his own wounds before, trying to thread a needle with one hand could prove difficult. And that pulls his thoughts to the times where he'd stumble back onto his ship after a long night, sometimes bleeding, sometimes bruised, usually just tired but whatever his condition Milah would be there to piece him back together. Milah. The memory of her smile and her gentle touch on his skin washes over him like a wave of warmth and peace. But in a moment, Killian's traitorous mind decides to remind him of the last time he saw his love, shattering what little comfort he previously found in his thoughts of Milah. Killian's jaw clenches hard and he turns away from the mirror, taking several large gulps of rum to chase down the lump in his throat.

When Killian finally returns to the deck, he's radiating such a dark fury that none of the crew dare to ask what happened to his face, so Killian doesn't get to spin a story. Although, the way he's feeling now, he'd likely make them walk the plank just for asking, so it's for the best. Killian’s terrible mood isn’t helped at all by the fact his hand, his missing left hand, keeps seizing up with imaginary cramps at all hours of the night. Killian assumes this secondary torment has been deliberately inflicted on him by Rumpelstiltskin’s magic to further his suffering. As if it’s not already enough that the crocodile killed Milah and crippled Killian. Killian spends many hours lying on his bed in the dark, face pressed hard into his pillow to muffle his groans and whimpers and curses, holding his aching arm close to his chest. It's all too much and Killian feels as though he may bloody well go mad with the anger consuming his soul, a raging fire that will burn him right down until there's nothing left, if he can't get it to simmer down. He stares out to sea, breathing in the salty air deeply, trying to calm himself. The sky and sea meet unhindered at the horizon, except for the spot where the island is. There’s still not a cloud to be seen. The wind feels warm now.

END

#ouat #once upon a time #fanfiction #killian jones #captain hook #whump #angst #amputation #phantom pains #my fanfics

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