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stxrvel · 4 years ago

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bittersweet feelings (1)

summary: you have to deal with the harsh truth after Bucky arrives from one of his missions.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

warnings: nothing i think, just you know English is not my native language so sorry for any mistakes!

words: +2.5k

note: hi! I've been feeling physically unwell since I last posted and have been in bed, but today I was finally able to get a moment of calm and lucidity, so, enjoy and hope you like it!

also, i've been working on a series that I want to publish soon, but I don't know why I always find it difficult to do all that planning. anyway, I really hope I can bring it to you soon! thank u for all the support!

part 2

part 3

Admiring Bucky Barnes from afar has become too much of a challenge in recent days. Before, you were wrapped up in papers, essays, final exams and projects due, locking yourself in your room at a time or living in your university library, simply too busy to wander your eyes over the sprawling figure of Bucky strolling around the Complex. Ironically, he always spent more time there when you weren't there.

But now, completely free of academic responsibilities and banned from going on missions at Fury's whim, you had a lot more time to wander the halls of the Complex, especially in the gym where the man with the metal arm used to spend most of his time. Many times (if not all the time) you felt like a lousy attempt of a stalker, and you was almost 100% sure that he realised what you were doing but preferred not to say anything so as not to embarrass you. And that was much more embarrassing.

But did that stop you? Absolutely not.

He'd cut his hair a few days ago, and although you loved the way his hair looked on his shoulders and the way it blew in the wind every time he walked, as if he were a model on a bloody photo shoot, you shamelessly admitted that you had quickly grown to love his new style. Because, honestly, did something look bad on Bucky?

Your hands moved indiscreetly across the table, crumpling the paper between your fingers that you had previously been reading, as you watched the aforementioned man's shoulders shake after hearing Sam Wilson say something about Scott's card game. You moved your eyes scanning his entire face, trying to memorise the expression on his face as he smiled so openly, as he almost never did in public.

“Am I interrupting your crazy stalker moment?”

Tony's voice startled you, and you turned your head so sharply to look at something other than Bucky that a slight twinge of pain made its way from the back of your neck to your right shoulder. You grimaced and watched the millionaire sit down next to you on one of the black chairs that were spread out in the first floor cafeteria. Ahead of you, a large glass door separated you from one of the side exits of the Complex, where Bucky and Sam had stopped to talk and, surely at first, discuss the mission Bucky had just returned from.

“I'm not a crazy stalker,” you told him dismissively, but your nerves were eating you up inside. Even though you knew you weren't entirely discreet, you still weren't ready for someone to tell you that you were too obvious for him not to know anymore.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say,” Tony commented sarcastically and you felt a quick pang of fear inside your chest, “I was just coming to tell you that Fury made the decision to send you to Milan with Steve the other week.”

Your gaze finally shifted away from Bucky's figure, closer and closer to where you stood, to Tony and you frowned at him in extreme confusion.

“What? So soon?”

“Isn't that what you wanted? To go back to the camp?”

“Well, yes, but I thought his tantrum was going to last much longer.”

Tony let out a laugh and proceeded to open the packet of peanuts in his pocket, “If he hears you say that, consider yourself fired, kiddo.”

“Then it's a relief that no one heard me say it,” you smiled innocently at Tony, who only gave you a tight-mouthed smile in return.

“It's just a recon mission. Steve thinks there's an empty HYDRA base you can investigate, and you're pretty nimble with that non-digitized document review stuff.”

“You mean I'm good at reading physical documents?”

“You know what I mean, eagle eyes. There's nothing you're missing.”

“Ow,” you croon with a smile, “Thanks for the compliment, Stark.”

“You're welcome. Now, don't go freaking out. Barnes is walking this way.”

He then stood up and planted himself in front of you, as your heart did a wild flip and you felt him pause for a second, before resuming his march at an unnatural pace. You didn't even know if it was possible for a heart to beat that fast. You felt sweat beading on your hands and started to breathe through your mouth as you felt the nervousness take over your whole body.

“What?” you exclaimed, staring at him, sitting uncomfortably in the chair across the table they had shared.

“I told you not to freak out, you're only going to make it worse.”

You narrowed your eyes at him with a frown. Next, you took about three deep breaths to try and calm your frantic heartbeat, before Sam's figure - and consequently Bucky's - appeared in your field of view to the side of Stark's body. The man gave you a look with an arched eyebrow, as if to ask you to behave yourself, which was an exaggeration.

That was an exaggeration. You spent a lot of time with Bucky! Even when you two were alone you didn't feel as nervous as you did at moments like this.

When your gazes met, you could barely return the smile he gave you before you turned your eyes to Sam, who had just spoken but you hadn't gotten to hear everything he'd said because your head was in the clouds.

“...and that you're going back to the camp with Steve. How long since you've been out? Almost four months? You must be anxious.”

You just nodded, looking at him through tight lips.

Tony rubbed his eyes in an exasperated gesture.

“I could ask Fury to let me tag along,” Bucky's voice reached your ears like a forbidden delicacy. It had been several days since you'd last heard it and it was like a gift from the gods, “Lest he bore you with his awkward silences.”

“We don't have awkward silences,” you grumbled quickly, not knowing exactly why you were getting defensive. Tony raised his eyebrows at you and you shrugged in place, “I mean, we talk about a lot of things.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky's jocular tone didn't do much for your nerves and sanity, “Name a topic you've been talking about for more than three minutes.”

You pursed your lips and stared at his perfect face, uninjured by the mission, as you conjured up memories of your conversations with Steve. Your almost non-existent conversations.

Your cheeks flushed as you realised he was right, but you weren't going to let him win you over this time.

“One time, we talked all night about a movie.”

“If you're going to say you talked about Lord of the Rings, that doesn't count,” Sam spoke with a half smile on his face.

“Why not?” you grumbled quickly, watching the grimace in his face.

“He talks to everyone about those movies. It doesn't even feel like a conversation anymore, it's like a monologue.”

“Careful, Sam,” Tony spoke up after several seconds, “She likes those movies too.”

“Hey! They're good movies.”

“Good for a nap,” Sam let out a laugh.

You watched Bucky pursed his lips and looked down at the floor, holding back a chuckle.

“They're entertaining,” you muttered with a frown.

Sam pointed at you, his eyebrows arched and his corners raised in a playful grin.

“Well, that's it,” Bucky interrupted whatever Sam was going to say, “You know what they say, to each his own.”

“I'm with Barnes on this one,” Tony spoke up, resting one of his hands on Barnes' shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. Bucky watched his hand and then the millionaire's face with an arched eyebrow, but Tony quickly turned his attention away from Bucky to Sam, “Speaking of Steve, he asked me to tell you to look for him in the main room. He said something about a pending conversation.”

Tony put his arm around Sam's shoulders, leaning part of his body to lead him to walk with him out of the cafeteria. They promptly struck up a conversation on their way out of the cafeteria, and you felt your hands shake once you realized you were alone with Bucky after a couple of weeks of not being able to talk properly with him.

You turned your head away from where the two people who had accompanied you a few seconds before were leaving, hearing the creak of a chair being dragged in front of you. You watched Bucky move his body into a sitting position, settling his forearms on the table and his eyes fixed on yours. Settling into the chair, you gave him a tight-lipped, tense smile. Act normal.

“So the boss finally gave in,” the black-haired man said, his lips curling as he interlocked his hands.

You nodded your head slightly, “It was quicker than I thought. I thought he'd never let me back in the field.”

“And can you blame him? You sure scared the soul out of his body,” Bucky arched his eyebrows, and the mere memory of what happened gave you a feeling of irritability.

You grimaced, “Oh, it wasn't a big deal.”

“It wasn't a big deal? Honey, you threw yourself at those people all by yourself.”

You stared at him for a few seconds, like you did every time he called you names when you were alone. He never did it in public, and it was something you didn't try to think about very often.

“So what? This was all unnecessarily dramatic,” you tried to say in the most neutral tone of voice possible as you crossed your legs under the table.

“There were twenty men,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Do you think me incapable, Barnes?” you arched an eyebrow, speaking with courage.

“No, of course not,” he quickly replied, his gaze softening, “But you disobeyed a direct order from Natasha and put your life at risk. You know how Fury is with you, he cares too much about you.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your back fall against the back of the chair, “But I'm not made of porcelain. I'm as good as Nat, she trained me herself!”

“But Fury didn't see her grow up.”

Well, he had a point and rightly so. You had grown up with the boss, who had practically adopted you, which was one of the reasons he used to be overprotective or refuse you to do some things because he thought it was for the best. And that fact had also helped you form fraternal bonds with all the Avengers until you were old enough and capable enough to be a part of them.

Well, you saw everyone as a nice family except Bucky. And that was a big problem.

You watched him through your eyelashes with an almost imperceptible pout.

Bucky gave you a beautiful smile, the kind that could light up an entire city, “Honey, I understand that it bothers you, but the position you put Fury in at the time, or everyone for that matter, made it hard for him not to make the decision he did. Maybe he overstepped, I'm not denying that, but he was scared.”

“There were other ways...” you started to renege again.

“And would you really have listened to him?” he inquired without wiping away his smile. It amazed you how lenient he could be with you, when with the rest of the world he was a hermit and sulky most of the time.

You sighed. Yep, you could be pretty stubborn when you put your mind to it.

“Well, the important thing is that he finally realised his mistake,” you blurted out with an amused grin. Bucky frowned and pointed the index finger of his metal arm at you.

“I think you missed the point of our little debate.”

“No, no... I understand, Bucky, I do. But Fury have to trust my skills a little more. I could against all of them! It was a spectacle.”

“But you're not always going to come out on top, sweetheart. At some point someone can catch you off guard, and that's what Fury's afraid of.”

“Well, it'll have to happen at some point. Unfortunately, I'm not invincible,” you agreed and admitted what he had said, because he was certainly right, with a tight-lipped smile.

You thought Bucky would be amused, or at least agree with you, but he merely bowed his head, frowned and tensed noticeably. You noticed that his expression suddenly hardened, and it frightened you that you had said something that would have angered him.

“What?” you asked fearfully.

He looked up from the table to look at you again, waking up. He gave you a smile, but a stiffer, harder and committed one. Your chest tightened, “It's not.... It's nothing. Just try to be careful next time, more cautious if necessary. You know, strategist.”

“Yeah, I know, I don't risk it if I don't think it's necessary.”

“That's my girl.”

You froze for a few seconds, just watching him, before your face heated up into an all too violent blush. He'd never said anything like that to you before... but you certainly didn't balk at the possibility that he might again.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you smiled shyly at him.

The sound of the cafeteria doors swinging open distracted the man in front of you, but you kept staring at his profile, gawking and surely with heart-shaped eyes. How was it possible that you liked him so much? Even though it had been a while since you last spoke, it seemed that your feelings for him had only grown three times his size.

Then, you heard it:

“Bucky!”

A woman's voice in the distance.

Confused, you turned your gaze in the direction of the voice, which came from the same place Bucky had been watching for several seconds. She was the one who had opened the doors so frantically, then. You frowned at her from a distance, unable to recognise her figure or features; it wasn't usually easy for you to forget the faces of people you knew, and you certainly didn't know this woman.

However, when you turned to ask Bucky, the half-smile on his face gave you the answer without words. Your chest tightened and you clenched your hands so as not to show the abrupt change of mood you had just gone through when he turned his face and fixed his eyes on yours. All without erasing that smile.

That smile he had on his face for her.

“I guess you'll have to go with Steve to schedule everything about the mission.”

You nodded, uncomfortably, not looking away.

“Fine. In the meantime, I'll go on my date,” he crooned, and the burning you felt intensified so much that it felt like you couldn't pass saliva without straining. But you smiled at him, your lips curving awkwardly and your face reluctant to show a feeling you didn't experience.

“Wow, I thought I'd never hear you say something like that.”

“Life is full of surprises, honey,” he said smiling as he stood up, “Do you want me to walk you to the living room?”

“No, don't worry. I'll be there in a minute,” you replied quickly. It was the first time since you had met him that you wanted him to leave you alone for once.

“All right. Good luck with the old man.”

“Thanks. Good luck with your- your- your date.”

You hated the way your voice betrayed you, but Bucky didn't seem to pay too much attention to it as he waved goodbye to you and started walking in the direction of the woman waiting for him outside the cafeteria doors. You felt your chest tighten as you sighed deeply and a couple of tears welled up in your eyes.

Damn it, at what point had all that happened?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #winter solider #james buchanan barnes #seb stan #sebastian stan #marvel #mcu #avengers #the avengers #tony stark #sam wilson

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watercolorfreckles · 3 years ago

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The Villain and His Therapist - Pt 3

Part 1, Part 2

TW: PTSD episode

Juliet jerked awake, bolting upright in bed. Her breathing came in shallow gasps as she strained to catch her breath. Unease crawled under her skin like spiders and it made her hands shake.

She closed her eyes, working to quell the roar of her thoughts.

It was just a dream. Nightmares are a perfectly normal trauma response. Your body is just telling you what you need to heal from and releasing the effects of that trauma in the way it best knows how. Just a bad dream. Nightmares have no bearing on reality.

Only, it wasn't just a dream.

Her stomach twisted, plunging cold as she remembered the weight of Supervillain's scrutiny, the molten burning of his voice. Any time she stood still, any time she closed her eyes, she was back there again, tied to that chair...

The nightmares still danced behind her closed eyelids. She opened them again, rubbing her face.

When Villain stabbed Supervillain, it didn't sever anything vital. He lived. He was taken to the hospital...where he then escaped as soon as his condition stabilized.

Juliet was promptly thrown into Witness Protection, carted off to stay in a white-picketed house in a very normal, middle-class suburb far from home. She was given a new name for the time being: Jessica Stewart. It hardly held the same fairytale charm as Juliet Meadows, and she found herself missing the way it sounded on Villain's smirking lips.

She blinked as the thought registered, catching her off guard.

To her, the safe house felt empty and cold. While her home was filled with colorful trinkets and art on every wall, this one was bland and sterile in comparison. Clean white walls, wood furnishings. The lack of decor made it feel hollow. In the night, it felt as lonely and unnerving as a graveyard. The walls were thick with shadows. The darkness seemed to swallow her whole.

With a shaky breath, Juliet flicked the light on. A gentle glow washed over the walls, illuminating the space. Panic still clawed at her, so she looked around, dissecting every corner for anything that may be amiss.

She froze as she heard a light plink against the window. She stared at the glass, heart jumping into her throat.

Plink, plink.

Forcing her limbs to cooperate, she slid off of the bed to her feet. She padded across the space with tentative steps until she could peek out the window.

Her blood ran cold as her gaze fixed on a figure standing below. What if it was Supervillain- What if he'd found her and he-

Wait...

That wasn't Supervillain.

Opening her window, Juliet peered down at Villain. Moonlight pooled around him, highlighting his face enough for her to be sure it was him. She released a shuddering breath.

"Villain. How did you find me? What are you doing?" She blinked. "Are you...did you just throw rocks at my window?"

His smile caught the silver light as he tossed what looked like a pebble up into the air, then caught it again without looking. "It seemed fitting. You are Juliet, aren't you? I saw your light turn on, figured you could use checking in on."

She smiled slightly. "No one's supposed to know where I am. How did you find me?"

Villain took his hands out of his pockets to spread his arms wide. When he spoke, his breath clouded in the crisp air. "Doctor Meadows, I'm offended you have to ask that. I have my ways."

"You shouldn't be here."

He flashed a grin. "I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

She studied Villain, who looked up expectantly at her. With a sigh, she conceded. "Come around to the door."

Juliet shut the window and walked to the front of the house, opening the door. Villain stepped inside, his jacket slick with moisture, his hair damp and tousled by drizzle and fog.

He seemed to fill the space, making the room look smaller. In the dark entryway, he resembled his brother to an unnerving degree. The way the shadows caught the hollows of his cheeks and silhouetted the angle of his jaw.

She abruptly stepped back from him and turned the light on, chasing the shadows away. Swallowing, she looked at him again.

Villain's head was tilted slightly, observing her. As always, his defined attention prickled her senses.

She pictured the last time she'd seen him. His brother's blood spattered against his collar--blood he'd spilled for her--after Supervillain had suggested he loved her.

Juliet's vision swam and the world swayed fuzzy.

Warm hands caught her waist, steadying her. "Juliet?"

Villain's voice was uncharacteristically soft, sending butterflies swooping in her stomach.

"I..."

She sucked in a shaky breath, waiting for the world to narrow into focus again; into something solid and real and safe like it should be. It didn't. Her hands trembled.

"I...I can't breathe."

Juliet was distantly aware of Villain scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the couch, setting her down with care. He knelt in front of her. Her ears rang.

She heard the villain's voice as if from underwater.

"It's okay, you're alright. I'm here. Hey. Juliet."

The haze cleared a little and her eyes shot to him at the mention of her name. Villain brushed her hair back, his touch the only thing keeping her rooted in reality.

"You're okay," he repeated softly once he had her attention. He held her gaze. "Breathe in and out with me. Like this." He exaggerated slow breaths.

She mimicked him, keeping her eyes trained on him, zeroing in on the touch of his skin against her temple. She felt untethered, like she could watch herself float away.

"Okay, let's...let's try a grounding exercise," he said as if reading her mind. "Can you squeeze my hand?" He held his palm out to her.

Juliet took hold of it, giving it a squeeze. Her grip was weak and quivering. Villain ran his free hand up and down her arm to keep her present.

"Squeeze it harder. Twice more."

She obeyed, her grasp more firm this time.

"Good," Villain praised, his voice a velvet purr. A shiver trickled down her spine.

He led her through a few more grounding techniques until she was calmer. The last one, she'd taught to him herself mere weeks ago.

Juliet smiled slightly, still feeling a bit numb around the edges, but much more like herself. More human.

"Who's supposed to be whose therapist here?"

Villain offered a gentle smile and it flooded her veins with warmth.

"You were kidnapped, Doctor Meadows. I don't think being a therapist makes you immune to trauma."

She looked at him as he tracked her with attentive concern. Villain frowned and reached out, gently tracing his thumb over the healing slash that marred her cheek. His thumb dipped down to brush her bottom lip.

Juliet's cheeks burned. "Villain."

"Juliet," he countered, his typical cocky playfulness dimmed to a murmur.

His hand lingered on her cheek. Their gazes interlocked.

"Stay," she whispered.

Villain's smile made her dizzy all over again. "Always."

Part 4

General Taglist: @writing-on-the-wahl , @valiantlytransparentwhispers , @distance-does-not-matter , @redbircl , @lilaccatholic , @crazytwentythrees , @thelazywitchphotographer , @deadlygemuwu, @chibicelloking , @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5 , @putridghost , @tobeornottobeateacher , @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @thanatoastie , @vlerlove-deactivated20210701, @feyriddle, yet-another-heathen, @silverwhisperer1

You’re on this list if you’ve asked to be tagged in any of my writing before. I prefer doing a general list instead of individual ones since that is tedious to keep track of. Let me know if you want to be added or removed. :)

This took me so long to finish, I've been working on it a few lines at a time for like 5 days. At first, it just wasn't coming easily to me and I was getting frustrated, but I think it came together well enough to post! Hope you enjoy. Thanks for your support, lovelies.

((Also do you like my new profile pic? this is my fave pic crew I've made of myself lol its cute))

#this took me 5ever #i hope you like it!#i rly like juliet #villain x civillain #civillian x villain #writeblr #writing snippet #my writing #flash fiction #hero x villain #short story #creative writing

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twinklelilstarkey · 4 years ago

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Stopping You - Michael Gray [Part 11]

Words: 10.8k+

Summary: Y/N and Michael finally decide to talk about what happened.

Warnings: Female!Reader. 18+. Smut, unprotected sex [pls use a condom]. Cheating! Overthinking. A very slight mention of blood.

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

“Oh, shut up!” You laugh out loud.

Finn laughs from beside you, laying on his back over Polly’s carpet as you lay on her couch on your stomach, looking down at the youngest Shelby brother.

“I would never do such thing.” You defend yourself, “Is that what you really think of me, Finn?”

Finn laughs with you as he stares up at you, hands resting on his chest, as he continues to assume how possible it is for you scare any girl that he’s interested in, away.

“Oh, please.” He says with a playful look on his face, “You would probably make her so many questions about her life choices that she would just run off.”

“Well, sorry if I continuously look out for you.”

The front door of Polly’s home swings open and almost makes you and Finn sit up by how high you two jumped from how it startled you.

You had been so focused on the conversation that you didn’t even hear the motor of a car outside. And now you two are acting as if you were caught talking about something you shouldn’t have been.

Polly walks inside the house, dark cigarette over her lips, and soon walks in Michael, following her every step.

“But why would he transfer the money if he didn’t need it?” He asks his mother, frown over his face as he closes the door behind him.

Polly shrugs at his words and takes off her furry jacket, leaving it by the hanger before taking the cigarette from her lips and exhaling a large cloud of smoke out of her lungs.

Her eyes move off her son, who has most of his back turned to you and Finn, and Polly finds you, almost falling off the couch from the strange position.

“Why are you on the ground?” She asks Finn, gaining a smile from the two of you.

“It’s comfortable.” He answers.

Michael looks over his shoulder and his eyes meet yours right away. Finn’s answer is able to manipulate a slight grin on his face, which hovers over his lips. There is no vocal answer on his part, just silence and a look of amusement.

It’s been almost a week since your nightmare, a total of 5 days to be exact. And Michael has been in Polly’s house for most of those days, mainly surrounded by work and nothing else.

You’ve questioned Polly about it after he left for the hotel and all you got as an answer was that he was trying to prove to Tommy that he can be forgiven. Quite odd, but who are you to question that?

At least 3 of the nights of those 5 days, Michael slept over at Polly’s. For a reason you do not know why, but it surely has to with Gina. You didn’t ask Polly about it, assuming she wouldn’t know, but honestly because it sounded wrong just to imagine yourself questioning such a thing.

Like said before, he had been working for most of his time over at the house, hidden in Polly’s office or seated at the dinner table, surrounded by papers while holding a cigarette between his fingers or lips as a way to lift off his stress.

You two didn’t talk much, but most of your conversations were in the mornings. Like the one after the night of the nightmare. They would end when his mind was somewhere lost in the papers and you two fell into the natural silence between sentences. You never disturbed him to keep the exchange of words alive, therefore, the talking of the day was done.

Michael and Polly continue their conversation soon after taking their eyes off Finn and you and, slowly, start making their way to the kitchen, where most silence of the house resides.

Their voices are low, but you can tell that they’re talking about work - something you’ve been forcefully pulled away for these past few days.

You look back at Finn once they’re out of your field of view and he’s staring at the ceiling, deep in thought.

“Who’s occupying your mind, uh?” You tease him, poking his chest.

He snaps back to reality and looks over at you, playful smile on his lips as he adjusts his head on the tall pillow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He says back.

Your eyes widen at his words and a shocked expression twitches your features.

“So, there is someone in your mind?” You ask in a squeak, not controlling your vocal cords in a such exciting moment, “Finn Shelby, I cannot believe you.”

He stays silent, his smile just grows at your shocked and squeaky words.

“What’s her name?!” You ask in almost a scream, overly excited.

“I’m not telling you that,” He says, lifting and turning his head to the side on the pillow, “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, Finn, come on!” You drag out your words for dramatization, “Can you just tell me if you two are dating or not?”

He thinks for a second and you just stare at him as he does it.

Seconds later, he’s still silent, slowly getting on your nerves over playing with your excited emotions like that.

“I swear I won’t look into it, just please answer my question.” You plead.

Finn sighs, slowly giving up.

“Okay…” He breathes out, “I am not telling you her name. But…” You hold yourself up with your elbow in excitement, “We are dating.”

A loud gasp escapes your mouth, and you hold in another shriek of excitement over his words.

His smile is just enough for you to believe that he likes the girl too much to sell any more information about her to you, but you honestly couldn’t feel any happier.

“For how long?” You ask, holding yourself up to sit up, unable to contain your emotions.

“I’ve known her for a bit. Been dating for like… 2 weeks?”

Your jaw almost hits the floor, but before you could even ask why he didn’t tell you before, you got yourself the answer. You would’ve gone all inspector mode to try and find any girl in Birmingham that is overly happy about a certain event.

Nothing he wouldn’t do for you too. Plus… You were in a hospital not that long ago-

“Wow.” You sigh, falling back to lay on the couch, “You were seeing someone while I was dying?”

A loud laugh escapes Finn’s mouth and bite in your smile to continue your acting.

“No! God, I was seeing her before you got shot.” He tells you, “Good to know that’s what shocked you the most about my whole confession.”

“I have to have my priorities.”

He continues to smile up at you, finding your words so amusing that he’s finding it hard to hold his chuckles every time you open your mouth to speak.

“Does Polly know?” You ask him.

“No-”

Before he could have finished saying the simple word you’re already out of the couch and running to the kitchen.

Sure, it hurt a little to do that movement so quickly, but you’ve got a great mission up ahead… Tell Polly the big news: Finn has finally stopped having sex with everyone that has a pair of legs.

Finn laughs at your excitement yet doesn’t stop you. Polly will know now or later anyway.

Either you tell her now or someone will, in the future. Or worse, her second sight might let her know of the news when they’re in an argument.

A wave of chills runs through Finn’s spine at the thought, and he shivers absurdly as a reaction.

Thank god he told you first.

You run in the kitchen and Michael continues his conversation, not finding any problem with you hearing anything he’s saying.

You wait beside them for the conversation to end, hands behind your back, swaying back and forth on the heels of your feet like a child waiting for her parents’ permission to go play outside.

Michael finishes and Polly gives him a quick answer. You don’t care enough to hear them. You just want to dump out the news at the center of the table.

“Do you have that on paper?” She asks Michael and he nods, “Go get it.”

Michael nods again and leaves the room, leaving you to stare back at Polly with a huge smile.

“What do you want?” She asks.

She looks down at the ashtray as she dips the tip of her cigarette down, yet you see her hiding a playful smile, probably finding yours contagious.

“Finn just told me that…” You pause to add some suspense, “… he has a girlfriend!”

Polly, right on that second, looks up at you with widen eyes.

She stares at you, analyzing every small bit of your face, trying to see if you’re joking in anyway, but she finds nothing.

“He has a fucking what?” She whispers in shock.

(…)

It has been a few hours. All of you had lunch together, which was filled with a whole bunch of teasing Finn while he tried to hide behind his hands and act like he only wants to stare down at his food.

And, of course, while that happened, you tried not to choke in your water or water while laughing so hard.

Now, Finn is sitting beside Polly on the couch as she tries to squeeze out of him as much information as possible. Michael is standing by the couches, packing his stuff up to leave.

You make your way down the stairs, just returning from the bathroom, and Michael looks over his shoulder at you.

“Are you leaving already?” You ask him, curious.

“Yeah. Need to go take care of something.” He says, being careful with his words. Polly has been too careful with pulling you away from work, Michael doesn’t want to be the one to break that lack of information.

He looks back to what is in front of him, and you notice three boxes of what you believe is paperwork related to the family’s business.

Polly and Finn are still siting, deep into their whispers, probably hiding any kind of potentially important information about his girlfriend from you.

Before you can even tease them for their antics, Michael says something.

“Could you help me carry this one?” He asks.

You nod right away. It’s one of the smaller boxes, the emptiest too. It won’t even make you blink an eye with any possible discomfort.

He piles the two bigger, and fuller, boxes and grabs them, their height only reaching up to his chest. You grab the smaller one, holding it on your hip. You help Michael with the door and leave it slightly open before following him to his car.

The silence between you is not by any means uncomfortable. It’s quite comforting, actually.

Michael opens the backseat door open with some difficulty and turns back for you to give him the other box. You do it and as you’re about to turn and leave, he says something.

“Wait.” He says, making you look at him, “I have something for you.”

“For me?” You ask confused.

He doesn’t answer. He closes the door and walks over to the front seats, opening the passenger seat door, hiding whatever is in front of him with his body.

Michael turns and you have to bite your tongue to not say anything.

It’s a small bouquet of flowers, most of them being wildflowers, your favorite. The exact same ones that have quite a history when it comes to the two of you.

You and Michael didn’t argue in your relationship, but when it did happen, and when he would be the main reason behind those same fights, he would give you flowers.

It was a rare occasion for you to receive them, but this type of bouquet is Michael’s apologetic bouquet. Always has been. It has all your favorite flowers arranged just like you loved, always in the same way to show off their vibrant colors.

“What are you apologizing for?” You ask and a small grin forms on his lips.

You remember them.

“The same thing as I’ve been apologizing for the past few weeks.”

You extend your hand and take the bouquet from his hand, ignoring how your hand rested right above his for some good few splits of a second.

You bring the flowers close to you, hiding any kind of positive expression, as you admire them silently.

“There’s a note inside. But you can read it later.” He lets you know.

“I will.” You say, looking back up at him, but this time, with a small grin.

He nods, small smile prominent on his lips as he does it. He looks relieved, probably because you accepted his flowers in the first place, but, also, nervous, almost like those same flowers are a ticking bomb of some sort.

“I’ll see you later, then.” You decide to say, breaking the intense stare down.

“Yeah,” He exhales, “I’ll see you later.”

To escape any possibility of another stare down, you turn on your heels and start walking towards the house. As you stand up the porch, you steal a glance over your shoulder, already finding Michael looking straight at you.

You offer him a small smile, different from the grin, and finally step into Polly’s home.

The sound of Polly’s and Finn’s voices fill your ears, and you close the door behind you, trying not to look back at Michael, who is still standing by his car.

The front door closes, slowly, and Polly lifts her gaze to meet yours, finding the slow motion and lack of slamming of her door so unlike you. You step aside into view and a gasp escapes her lips.

“Are my eyes deceiving me?” She says out loud.

“I’m afraid not.” You answer, eyebrows lifted, trying to show that you’re as shocked as she is.

She stands from beside Finn, who is as shocked, and walks towards you. She takes the flowers from your hands and analyzes them.

“Let me guess.” She says with a playful tone, “Another apology?”

You chuckle at her and she smiles brightly at you.

“You’re correct.” You announce, stealing a look at Finn, who looks amused, “Might have to write this one down as the official thousandth one.”

“I’m glad you’re keeping count.” Polly jokes with you making you smile.

She walks back to the kitchen to get a vase and you follow right behind her. Finn stands from the couch and does the same as you.

Polly sets them over the kitchen counter gently and looks around for the perfect vase, one you can later take to your own home, when you’re healed.

Finn walks up to the flowers and analyzes them silently, just like Polly. He brings up his hand and carefully pulls something out, a small envelope.

“I’m sure this is for you.” He says, handing the envelope to you.

You take it into your hands and hold it carefully close to you.

Polly starts filling the vase with water and looks back at you, staring down at the small paper, just the size of your hand.

“Well, open it!”

You smile at her tone and you do as told. Finn looks at you questioningly as you undo the top and Polly stops the water from running.

You take the small note from inside the envelope and put down it down. You unfold it, careful with making it face you and you only, and as the word meets your eyes, Polly swears she sees them brighten.

Meet me behind the barns tomorrow at 3. – M

(…)

With both Polly and Finn at work, possibly at a meeting, you’re left to stay home alone until 3. You’ve taken your time to get ready. You’ve done your make-up, nothing too intense, just your normal light look, and have gotten dressed.

A floral green dress hugs your body, nothing unlike your usual style. Not a suit, but something you would wear when out with Polly at your day’s off. And on top of that, a long dark coat, which covers your body from any cold wind.

What even is going to happen today?

You step out of Polly’s home, keys in hand and coat closed enough to protect you from the harsh wind meeting you as soon as you make your presence to the outside world.

You climb in your car. Poor thing as been sitting there by the front of the house for days now, quite sad.

As you make your way to the familiar location, Michael is standing by his car.

He didn’t expect the day to be so cold and windy, but like any other place close to Small Heath, the weather is just unpredictable.

He shakes his cigarette, letting the white and bright red ashes fly with the wind as they burn at the tip of the poisonous, yet addicting and calming, stick. His eyes are stuck on the gravel under his feet, heart ponding against his chest and with his hands shaking.

It’s like taking you on your first date all over again.

He’s just a nervous and anxious wreck.

The sound of a car door closing in the distance makes him snap back from his thoughts and look over his shoulder. You’re right there, just a few meters away from him. Your jacket is open, falling by your sides, as its material and your thin dress move with the, now, calmer wind.

“Sorry for being a little late.” You apologize and he shakes his head.

“No worries.”

He leans away from his car and walks to stand beside you. Your hands are stuffed in the pockets of your jacket, shielding them from the cold, and with that he takes your outfit in, finding the flowers in the fabric somewhat familiar to his gaze.

“Should we start walking?” You break his trance.

“Uh- Yeah, yeah.” He nods.

The abandoned barn stands tall beside the two of you as you walk by it. This is just outside of Small Heath. A small barn where Tommy used to have some of his horses, ones that weren’t exactly for racing. Maybe family horses… Can you even call them that?

Right behind the old structure, is a vast field. One, that for you to meet its true beauty, you have to walk for some good few minutes or well… get yourself a horse and ride for not even 3 minutes.

The green fields meet your eyes and for a second, you feel like you’ve lost your ability to breathe. The air is clearer where you stand then from whatever corner you stand in the whole Birmingham, but god, it’s breathtaking.

No sight of pollution, of smoke or even of people. Just peaceful green, tall wild grass, trees scattered through each curve of the irregular grounds.

It’s as calm as nature can be.

You walk beside Michael, both of you admiring the familiar grounds you step on, yet not opening your mouths to break such a comforting silence.

The sounds surrounding you are nothing but the patter of your feet on top of the grass, which is so tall it comes close to your upper thighs, the wind hitting the tall leaves and making them hit your legs, the branches of the trees moving and making the leaves collide with one another, and simply the wind over your ears.

Everything so silent it even makes your ears seem to vibrate.

“God, Michael, you are unbelievable.” You tell the man behind you without even looking over your shoulder.

“You were the one that had the idea!”

“And you went with it!” You say in a louder tone at him, “You’re supposed to be the one with the brains in this relationship, not me.”

The man chuckles from behind you, each of you riding your own horses as the sun shines on the two of you, marking and showing nothing but its natural beauty of the season.

“We can still go back.” He says, reigns resting by his legs, letting the horse move on its own.

“And say what?” You ask with a smile, “Yeah, sorry, Polly. The party was the most boring idea ever, and we had to walk out?”

“Something like that.”

You exhale out a chuckle and shake your head.

“Why did she even let the neighbor plan out the party?” You ask him.

You look over your shoulder to stare at your boyfriend and he’s already looking at you.

“She said something about wanting to give the woman a chance.” He shrugs, “Did you expect any less from her? She has been apologizing to my mom for the past year, this party was the least she could’ve done.”

“A cake would’ve done it.”

Michael smiles in amusement at you and you continue to look at him.

“You really think you can buy your way to my mom’s heart with a cake?”

“I did.” You say and he rolls his eyes. “And it worked.”

“It worked because you were already part of the family. And hitting my mom’s side of the car is not the same as what you did.” He says defensively.

“I think what I did was quite horrid, if you ask me.”

“I thought it was funny.” He smiles.

“Yeah, well, that’s because you like seeing your crazy family in distress and me in trouble.” You defend yourself, checking the field in front of you to see if you’re close to your destination, “Seriously, Michael, you worry me sometimes.”

A loud cackle of disbelief escapes Michael’s lips and you grin at the sound.

“You broke a vase of flowers on my cousin’s head! You didn’t destroy a whole side of a car!” He tells you and you turn back to him.

“Yeah! I know! But it still made me almost pee myself in fear when it happened.” You confess, finding it almost impossible not to laugh, “I could’ve had nightmares with what could’ve been my consequence.”

“God, you’re dramatic.”

You smile and stop the horse, finally standing by the usual area.

“No, I’m just realistic.” You tell him, “Finn could’ve gotten hurt, and if he did… I could’ve been dead by now.”

“Wow!” Michael chuckles. “You’re just… out of this world.”

“Oh, thank you.” You say, finding his words, out of context, funny. “But still… I feel bad for leaving.”

“Don’t.” He says as you jump down off your horse, “My mom won’t care, and Finn left like 2 hours ago. Nobody cared.”

“Still… It’s your birthday Michael.” You tell him, “You should be celebrating it.”

Michael jumps out of his horse and brings the reigns to the front, walking over to you with the horse just a meter behind him.

As he lets go of the reigns, like any other time here, he stands tall in front of you, not caring that the horse is moving away to go eat the perfect patch of green grass not too far away. You look up at him and wait for him to say something.

“And I am.” He says, “I prefer to stay here with you, then eat whatever was on that table.”

He presses a kiss over your lips, and you gasp.

“That is mean, Michael!” You say defensively, “That woman worked very hard…! And all night!”

He thinks of what to say next for a bit.

“And you still gave the idea to leave.”

Your mouth opens in disbelief at his words.

“You’re heartless, Y/N.” He says, amusement thick on his tone, lips twitching to smile again.

You scowl and smack his chest, hard.

“You little bitch.” You curse him out, making him laugh and take a step back from you.

The silence stays thick between the two of you, yet as soon as the wind lifts off ever so slightly, Michael finds himself being curious. He steals a look your away and notices you’re walking while staring down at the grass.

“You’re quiet.” Michael comments out loud, snapping you back to reality.

You blink your thoughts away and quickly lift your head ever so slightly, not enough to stare at him but enough to see how much you still have to walk.

“So are you.” You whisper back at him, soft grin on your lips, “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

You look over at him, ignoring your overthinking mind that hesitates so much to do it, and to your surprise, he’s already looking at you.

“About…” You sigh stretching out the word in your lips, shifting your gaze forward once more, finding his eyes intrusive for some reason, “Old times?” You answer as a question, unsure. “The past few days have made me kind of stuck in memories, I guess.”

He nods, even though you’re not looking at him anymore, and also brings his gaze away from you to stare at the greenery at his front.

“That makes two of us.” He confesses.

“Really?” You ask, surprised.

“Yeah” He nods, again.

You nod, pursing your lips while saying to yourself mentally ‘who would’ve thought you’re not the only crazy one’, and, in a quick decision, you decide to blur out whatever is on your mind.

“Mine were actually about, uhm…” You hesitate, catching yourself and your urges midsentence, and Michael notices, bringing his gaze back to you, “That one time we both came here-” You sigh when lost for words and you shake your head slightly with a scowl.

Your discomfort over your own troubling thoughts doesn’t go unnoticed by Michael, and he decides to ease up some of it with his words.

“One time? Out of the thousand times we came here?”

You look back at him and feel yourself relax at his playful tone.

“Yeah. It was a quite special day, actually.” You add.

A full-on smile appears on the man’s face, pearly white teeth out to show amusement at your words.

“Again. Which one out of the hundreds of days like that?”

Your heart tightens at his words and you welcome them with a smile, shaking your head at his comment. Your hand lifts and lays over his arm, pushing him away from you as playful push for him to shup up such nonsense.

Michael looks down as the smile on his face stretches and a chuckle escape both of your mouths.

Your playful touch had been missed, and his body made it obvious to him. The way it warmed up and boiled after so many years of pure and utter cold.

Your hand falls back to your side as you two continue to walk in silence, eyes focusing on the path ahead.

In a simple matter of seconds, you find yourselves looking at each other, silently. Almost as if admiring one another.

“It was your birthday.” You admit, “The year before you left.”

“Why that one?”

You shrug, checking if you’re still too far from your destination.

“I don’t know. It just came to me for some reason.”

He nods and you steal a glance at his smiling self.

“Was it the amazing food that we loved so much that we had to run off?” He starts, “Or was it the amazing entertainment it was given to us throughout the evening?”

A laugh escapes your lips, and a weight lifts off Michael’s shoulders. How relaxing it feels.

“God, don’t remind me of that.” You say to him.

“Why? Is the awfully well decorated cake hunting your mind?”

Another chuckle leaves you and you roll your eyes.

“I see that you’re just as mean as before when it comes to analyzing other people’s hard work.” You joke with him and he smiles down at you.

“Guess so.”

Silence falls back in between you and you two walk calmly again, nothing rushing you to leave and get to the usual spot any quicker.

“What about you? What memories of the old times have been hunting you?” You jokingly ask.

“There have been a lot of them.”

“What was the last one you thought off?” You ask, trying to ease the question for him.

“Our first date.”

You snap your head at him, not expecting him to also confess that he was thinking of two of you, and he smiles at your reaction.

“Why?”

“I was shitting my pants before coming in here. Was scared you would bail on me. Just like I felt in our first date.” He confesses and you scowl.

There’s a silence of a few seconds before you decide to break it with your curiosity.

“Why would I bail on you?”

He scoffs.

“We both know the answer to that question.”

Silence.

Back to complete and utter silence, yet this time. It’s not as comfortable.

The sweet and loving conversation has died down with the slight indirect mention of how your relationship came to an end.

The patter of your feet is all you hear but also all you prefer to look at in this moment.

Michael steals a glance at you and notices the way you hesitate to look up.

He curses himself in his head and his smile is back down, dead, with no reason to come back so soon.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No.” You cut him off, “Don’t worry about that.” You stuff your hands back in the pockets of your jacket. “We had to talk about that sooner or later.”

He nods and you look up, seeing him do it.

“We’re getting close.” He announces, making you look up.

Oh God, you missed this.

The fields look the same, just as green and still with small specks of color from the wildflowers. The trees seem to have gotten bigger and fluffier in a way, but they’re still standing tall and creating the perfect little hidden spot between them.

Exactly where you and Michael used always sit.

Michael notices that you had stopped walking after taking a few steps alone, and when he looks back over his shoulder at you.

Memories and all types of emotions erupt through your body harshly. You breathe in deeply, eyes showing the slightest bit of tears of which you can not tell if it’s either sadness or happiness to be back after so long.

Michael notices your different mood, yet he doesn’t understand what is going on. He turns to you completely, having his back to the familiar fields to check on you and his eyes are stuck.

Your eyes are filled with emotion, a soft scowl is written over your face, decorating it. Your body seems to shake slightly at the wind that seems to love to come back at unfortunate moments, and you’re just there. Standing and staring.

You break from your trance as something in front of you appears. You look down to see Michael extending his hand to you, face soft with a comforting expression.

You lay your hand over his, taking it out of your warm pocket and Michael pulls you in further to take steps closer to your destination.

You do as he does while your hands fall connected by your sides. Your eyes are focused on them, staring down as if to check if it’s real or just like in your nightmares, realistic, yet so far deep in your mind that it will bring you great terror in a space of seconds.

Slowly, you get closer to the scenery you had just stared in the distance, and you start to notice small details. There are not as many flowers since autumn is still very much present in this day, yet the place is just as warm and welcoming, still shielding you from most of the cold wind.

Your hand stays connected with Michael’s even when you stand between the familiar trees, neither of you feeling capable enough to pull away yet. Your other hand reaches and touches the trunk of the tree you used to always sit next to.

It feels so unreal that you almost have to pinch yourself.

“Feels weird to stand here.” You confess.

Michael steps closer to you and nods.

“It’s been a long time.”

“A bit too long, maybe.” You add and he agrees again with a nod, “We used to almost come here everyday before winter. I missed it.”

You look up to meet Michael’s eyes and their icy blue color meets your gaze right away. They’re soft, familiar, and comforting.

“Want to sit?” He asks you, eyes still connected.

You nod and he lets go of your hand, for your (big) disappointment.

Michael takes a seat next to the tree and lays his back against it, and you’re quick to follow him, sitting by him, legs to your side as you adjust the thin fabric of your dress.

Michael sighs and your eyes find him again, he looks nervous. More than you.

“I should be the one to start talking.” He whispers, making you tilt your head as if to signalize that you’re listening, “I… Uhm… I-I don’t even know where to start.”

“The beginning would be great.” You joke, gaining a playfully annoyed look from him, “Okay… Uhm…”

You think for a second. Would it be too harsh id you just asked it?

“Why did you do it?”

Michael holds in a gasp at your sudden and direct question, and you continue to stare at him. He notices how you’re analyzing his face, from hair to chin, from ear to ear.

You’re studying him intensely, trying to find the answer yourself in his features.

“It’s stupid.” He says to you.

“I don’t care.” You admit, “I just want to know why.”

He has said, weeks prior, that he did not know why he had done it, which did lead you to scream at him and throw a plate at his head.

But you didn’t believe him, not even a bit. And the fact that he is hesitating to say it out loud now, it’s just a clear reason that good things surely aren’t going to come from his mouth.

“I did it be- because… Fuck.” He comments mid-sentence, shaking his head, finding his nerves ridiculous, “I did it because I couldn’t focus at work.” He licks his lips, eyes still focused on you, “Every time you called was awful. I felt helpless when you would tell me that you missed me and that you were worried about me.”

He sighs and you look at him confused.

“I just couldn’t deal with it anymore. I couldn’t hear you tell me to be careful anymore. I knew I was going to get hurt at one point- It’s bad, I know it is, but I- I just couldn’t deal with your calls… They just made me want to come back home every time, and I… I knew couldn’t.” He confesses, stressed with his own words.

What the fuck is he saying?

“I started to worry about myself. I-I would panic because I was scared that I wouldn’t come back at one point… If I got too hurt or- you know.”

You stay silent.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He tells you.

Silent is set between you two again, and you, honestly, just want to hit him.

“You’re such a fucking idiot.” You curse at him.

He doesn’t say anything back, yet his mind is filled with questions: did I say enough? Did I say too much? Do I look or sound as much of an asshole as I feel like I do?

God, his words sounded so much better in his mind. Now it just all sounds like… He’s stupid, that’s what he sounds like.

You can’t believe him for a few good seconds.

For so long, you made yourself think so many awful things about yourself, and now you know you weren’t even the exact cause of the problem.

He didn’t break up with you because were too clingy or too annoying over the phone, it was because you were making him… be careful?

“What did you want from that one call?” You question, “And be honest.” You sound calm, surprisingly. “Just me to stop calling?”

“No.” He scowls at you, “I expected you to move along with your life. Find someone else.”

Oh, and the urge to punch him intensifies.

“I knew it would take time, but… I wanted you to find someone better, to just live your life.” He says sincerely and you continue to stare at him. “God, this sounds dumb but… It would be better for you to have someone in case I would never come back…” He sighs, “Does that even make sense?”

You don’t answer him, so he continues.

“When you stopped calling. I thought that’s what had happened.”

Calling after his final call, he means.

“God, Michael...” You exhale, looking away from him and shaking your head.

“It’s stupid of me, I know.” He comments to you, “I’m really sorry.”

His voice is small in the middle of your silence. It’s thick with emotion and you just know that he is beating himself for it still. For everything that he has done and stopped doing for the past few months.

His thoughts are degrading in every way possible. Michael can’t see a reason why they shouldn’t be. He knows you went through really rough few months because of him, now. Thoughts like his shouldn’t even be compared to something as small as a pinch.

You look back at him, yet your eyes don’t meet his. His gaze is focused on something in the distance, mind completely filled with thoughts you’re sure that you’re too familiar with.

“I’m going to forgive you. Not now, but I will.” You confess, “It will just take a bit of time on my part.”

Michael clenches his jaw, not really believing you for a second.

Is it bad that he doesn’t feel like he deserves it? He just gave you the most half assed justification and apology, yet you are still thinking about forgiving him?

Like, what the fuck?

“My ego is just too big for me to forgive you so soon.” You crack up a joke.

The slightest of curve appears over Michael’s lips, but his eyes still don’t go to you. You scratch the side of your neck and without him noticing, you shift to sit closer to him.

You look back at him before starting to talk again.

“Just so you know.” You start, “Your plan didn’t really work… I didn’t move on after… After you ended things.” You whisper.

His head snaps back at you and you hold a comforting look to welcome his eyes back to your own.

You don’t want him to feel worse, you really don’t want to. What’s done is done. Both of you can’t go back in time to change anything.

“You didn’t?”

“No.” You chuckle.

“Why not?”

“Fucking Birmingham men are disgusting.” You justify with a disgusted look on your face. “And I was already working for your family when I was feeling more… okay, so, I had to stay here, stuck with the sight of either saggy old men or just way too cocky younger men.”

He grins slightly at your distaste for the locals, and you offer him a smile.

“I am, supposedly, from Birmingham” He says, trying to sound offended, “And you dated me just fine.”

“Yeah, well…” You comment with a cringe and his grin grows, “You’re still three quarters a country boy, so you don’t really count.”

He rolls your eyes at you and you hit your shoulder with his playfully, swaying to force his stiff body to move a bit.

But, even with the playful mood and slight grin, he still looks hesitant.

“What’s done is done, Michael. The best thing we can do now is learn from it.” You tell him with a soft voice.

He just stares down at you.

“And just so you know, I should be upset at you. I feel like I should. And don’t get me wrong, I want to beat you up for being this stupid.” You confess, “God, you were supposed to be the smart one in all of this.” You add, exhaling your words.

He doesn’t say anything.

“And the reason why I’m not mad is that it has been a long time. I took a long time to heal and grow as a person.” You continue, “I just feel like all of that would’ve gone to waste if I became upset over the reason why it all happened.”

Still nothing from him.

“Blaming and hating ourselves doesn’t get us nowhere, you know?” You ask, “Especially hating other people. It’s just so stupid. Life is fucking shit. It is, but-” You sigh. “I don’t have to hate you for it, or… blame you for it.”

Where the hell are you going with this? Michael asks himself.

“You moved on, right?” You ask rhetorically, “Maybe it was meant to be.” You shrug, “Sure, it was a little harsh, but you found Gina. If you hadn’t made that last call to end…” You move your finger around to point at the two of you, “this… You would’ve been still dating me and not been able to be with her.”

Your words sort of hurt Michael. It is the truth, everything is true. If it weren’t for that last call, he wouldn’t have looked or thought of any other women but you.

No Gina, no nobody. Just you.

But is that supposed to sound like a bad thing?

His heart still beats for you, he knows he still feels for you. Every day that passes, it gets more and more intense. The same way his love for Gina disappears, yours grow.

It’s like his heart is pushing Gina away and open back the space that you once used to own and rule.

“What?” You question when noticing that Michael has been staring down at you and hasn’t said a thing.

“I still feel like I would’ve taken back what I did.” He confesses.

“And what about Gina?”

He shakes his head dismissively.

“She would’ve been fine without me.”

There’s a silence between you two again, and you’re just registering what has said and trying not to take it in a certain very biased way. All of that while he just stares at nothing.

“Where is she, by the way?” You ask curiously, “You’ve barely spent any time at the hotel lately.”

Michael scowls at thought about the fight they had in Polly’s kitchen.

“Yeah… We’re going through a rough patch, right now.”

“Really?” You ask and he nods, “God, you guys went from happily engaged to this in what…? A month and a half?”

He sends you a slight glare.

“What? It’s true.”

“What happened to not hate others? And that that will get you nowhere?” He comments and a smile grows on your face.

“Yeah, well…” You chuckle, “I don’t hate her. I just… dislike her. She was rude to me.” You smile at him, “But, seriously, I really don’t like her. At all. Like god damnit, Michael, I’m sorry to say, but you sure don’t know how to pick them.”

A big chuckle escapes Michael and you smile at him triumphantly. He shakes his head at you and brings his gaze back to yours.

“I picked you. For years.”

“Yeah, and that’s why that’s obviously the highlight of your life.” You say nodding at him, and his lips finally stretch into a smile.

Who knew insulting him would’ve fixed his sad mood?

You bring your hand up and hesitatingly, you lay it over his, letting your fingers find their way to the space between his thumb and his pointer finger, sliding into his palm and giving it a squeeze.

Michael’s eyes move to your hands and you hold your breath, scared that he will pull away.

His eyes slowly come back up to you and they’re as soft as you’ve ever seen them. He holds your fingers and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your hand softly.

You give him a small smile and he exchanges hands, connecting your left hand with his right so it’s more comfortable to him.

He intertwines your fingers, slowly, and his movements are the slowest you’ve ever seen them, yet they’re sweet. Letting your fingers slide and fall themselves in between his or yours.

“I missed you.” He whispers under his breath, making you look up at him again. “A lot.”

You grin at him and give his hand a squeeze as your answer.

You don’t know it, but Michael is biting his tongue to not apologize to you again. The urge to do it is stronger than him.

It’s like if he repeats it for as many times possible, you will eventually forget what he did.

He doesn’t want you do forgive him. He wants you to just forget it. Act as if everything as always been perfect.

“I substituted you with Finn, so I can’t say the same.” You say playfully, making his lips pull up again.

“I noticed. Weirdest fucking pair, I swear.” He scoffs.

“Jealousy is a serious disease, Michael.” You comment back, nodding.

“Could say the same thing about you.”

“Excuse me?” You ask confused, yet still smiling.

“You’ve barely had a full conversation with Gina, but you just told me you ‘dislike’ her.” He says, amused tone, “Sounds like jealousy to me.”

You laugh at him and shake your head.

“Wow! You really are crazy.” You say, making him smile, “Must have been the air in New York. Probably messed your brain up.”

“Stop” He pokes your leg with his other hand, “Insulting.” Another poke, “Me.” Another poke. “It’s not funny.”

“Then why are you smiling so brightly at me, hey?” You ask with as just as big of a smile.

You two stare at each other with the smiles on your faces and your heart quickens at the sudden change of atmosphere. Everything seems so perfect between you two. Gina doesn’t seem like a barrier between you two anymore.

It’s like old times.

“Are you still marrying Gina?” You catch yourself asking.

His eyes widen slightly at your sudden question and your smile falls slightly. You’re embarrassed at the sudden slip of words but it’s already too late.

“I’m not sure.” He answers.

You react shocked at his answer. What is happening?

Both of your hearts are almost coming out of your chests, it’s like they’re going to explode if a specific confession escapes both your lips.

“Why?” You whisper, your voice failing you.

“I don’t-” He thinks for a second, “I don’t think I love her anymore.”

You hold in a sigh and continue to listen to him.

“I’ve been telling myself that she has changed ever since we got here, but…” He pauses, searching your face for any hesitation, “I think she has been like this all along. And all that has changed as been that-” He suddenly stops.

“That what?” You whisper, almost feeling out of breath.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He confesses, “I can’t stop comparing her to you. Or look at her and just… wish that she’s you.”

Your breathing is heavy, almost like you’re fighting the weight of a thousand stones on your chest. Everything is going on too quickly, but all you feel is relief.

“What are you saying, Michael?” You ask, voice falling into a whisper again.

He stays silent, almost as if rethinking about what he’s about to say.

Your eyes unconsciously lower to Michael’s lips and his smile as fallen as well. He’s serious. Your breathing has gotten quicker without you even realizing, and when your eyes go back to Michael’s, you find him doing the same thing.

“I love you.”

You stop breathing, shock erupting through your system.

“I never stopped loving you. Never. I’ve been lying to myself for all this time, trying to make myself believe that I was happy with Gina but I’m not.” He says, “I’m not happy with anyone else but you. Because I can only love you. Only you. Nobody else.”

He said it.

He said everything that has been troubling his mind for so long. He finally said it.

He said what you have been dreaming that he would say for the longest time. You almost can’t believe this is reality. Your body has gone numb, your heart is beating at an insane speed.

It all just feels so unreal.

Michael’s mind is going at miles a second, overthinking ever curve of emotion in your face. Every twitch, every slight movement in your hand still holding his, now more loosely than before.

What if he spoke too soon? What if he just… destroyed everything you two could’ve still shared. You probably don’t even think about him in that way anymore. All that could’ve been shared as just friends was all destroyed now with his confession.

The confession you have waited for so long and expected it to never be real. The confession of his love for you.

You take a deep breath, feeling Michael tense up next to you at what seems like a way to compose yourself into talking again, and suddenly you let go of his hand.

Michael almost gasps at the lack of your natural warmth against his palm and his heart begins to break, threatening to shatter with just a simple movement.

And then, you just bring your hand behind his neck and pull him towards you, letting your lips connect like the old times. Like the old times you have been visiting lately in your mind for this long and painful time.

It all feels like fireworks are erupting through your body, pinching your muscles and making them rise awake to reality.

You and Michael don’t move for a few quick seconds, but as soon as his lips move and his head tilted slightly to the side, you felt like you could cry.

His nose scrapes your cheek as you kiss sweetly and slowly, and Michael’s hands find their way to you. You gasp against his lips as his hands touch your waist and the thin, almost see-through, fabric of your dress does you no justice.

You bring both of your hands to his face and cup it close to you as he pulls you in to him with his hands. You sit on your knees, rising and your lips disconnect with the sudden movement.

You meet his eyes before you move any further and you feel like you’ve fallen in love all over again.

Michael pulls you in and you move to straddle his lap, his eyes run through your body, eyeing every bit of skin his eyes can lay on as you move, and your jacket opens naturally. You lean your lips to his again and he is the one to begin the kiss this time. His fingers dig deliciously into the ribs by your waist and your hands go up to his hair.

His hands drag from your waist to your hips and down your legs, rising your dress to finally touch your skin. Its warmth is so familiar and so calming that Michael feels like he could pass out right in that second.

You gasp as his grip on your upper thighs intensifies and you pull away slightly. There is absolutely no regret or shame in both of your stares, absolutely nothing. Michael brings his hands up and slides the jacket off your shoulders.

You let him take it off and he lays it by his side, a hand comes to rest over your back and in the matter of a second, you’re laying on your back on the cold but dry ground while Michael is hovering over you.

Michael connects your lips again and you smile into the kiss. His lips as just as soft as you remember them, and he still kisses in the same way. You feel like you’re in a dream all over again.

He pushes away and before you could even open your eyes, his mouth starts pressing soft and wet kisses all over your neck. Your hand moves back to his hair and he slowly leaves a trail down your jaw and neck down to your exposed chest, savoring absolutely every bit of soft exposed skin.

You pull down the collar of his blazer and he seems to get the hint, because he lifts off you, making your body erupt into shivers from the cold. He takes off his jacket and throws it next to you, and as his hands work down his waistcoat, your lips find their way to him again.

A soft inhale of air escapes Michael’s mouth at the feeling of your lips and he’s quick to take off another layer of his suit, not caring if he rips a button or not. He lays you back down and follows you to the ground, holding himself up by his arms and laying right in the middle of your legs.

You two smile at each other as soon as your noses touch and the sound of a soft peck interrupts the silence.

Michael is completely lost in the bliss of the moment, just savoring every single second of it. While you still believe you’re in shock with whatever is going on.

Months prior to this you would’ve passed out with just the idea of seeing Michael again, and probably even punch yourself if you knew what would happen later on, or now. But, god, you couldn’t care less, now.

With only an arm holding him up, Michael squeezes the soft skin of your thigh and starts layering the skin close to your neck with kisses all over again. You, impatient as one can be, lay your hand over his and pull it further towards you.

The dress falls to your hips and exposes your skin to the cold evening. Both of your hands play with the buttons on Michael’s shirt before being able to pull it off him and expose his chest to you.

He presses a kiss onto your lips again and sits up on his knees, pulling away from the kiss and staring as if to make sure this isn’t his mind playing tricks on him and it’s really you.

He discards his shirt to one of his sides, not really caring if it will fly with the wind and it will lose it forever.

“What do you mean ‘okay’, Michael?” You ask, confused, staring at the plain wall in front of you.

“I’m agreeing with what you said. Maybe it is true.” He says through the phone, “You keep on calling me every day-”

“What?” You ask, scowling, “I haven’t called in so long… You-you haven’t picked up any of my calls… Michael, I just want to check on you.”

“I am fucking working, Y/N- God. It’s always the same thing. You’re always fucking checking on me. I. Am. Fine.” He says with the most arrogant and angry tone you’ve ever heard him with.

“How am I supposed to know that? You’re almost across the world, Michael, the only thing I can do is call you.” You defend yourself, shaking your head in confusion, “We haven’t talked in months.”

“I just. I just want you to stop it, okay?” He questions. “I am so done with this. With you making everything seem like such a big and dangerous thing when it never is. You just keep on distracting me all the time. I need to work.”

“What?”

“You did it just now. I went to work today, like any other day. Stayed on my office, did what I was supposed to do. What Tommy ordered me to do. I just told you that I had someone on my office, and you got all fucking worried- like Jesus, Y/N.” He takes a deep breath, “This is my job. I need to do this-”

“I know.”

“You don’t seem like you do.” He continues, “You’re constantly asking and-”

“That’s not true-”

“But it is. Every time you call, it’s always this same thing… I’m tired.” He sighs his words at the end.

You stay silent for a few seconds, letting his words sink in.

“I’m… just worried about you.” You whisper and he sighs, “I- I didn’t mean to-to interrupt you or to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

Tears well up at your eyes and a small shaky breath escapes your mouth, yet it isn’t picked up by the phone.

Michael stays silent as well, making your heart ache more by each second.

You blink your tears away and look up at the window beside you, letting the streetlights shine into your cold and lonely room.

Your bed is still made. The wind of the winter is still hitting the old windows harshly, making them whistle as they hold themselves together. But that is all you have, their whistle and the soft lighting.

Other than that, is you and your silence.

“Well, if I’m such a burden to you then maybe it’s better if we stop talking to each other.” You let the hurtful words escape your mouth before you could even catch them. Too late to take them back.

You don’t hear anything from the other side of the call. For a few seconds you believe that Michael had ended the call before you even said anything else, but his voice comes back.

His voice comes back and shatters the silence with the bitter truth.

“Okay.”

And after that, all Michael heard was the small and weak beeps signalizing the end of the call. Signalizing the end of you and him ever being together. Signalizing the end of your long relationship.

And the supposed end of your love for him and his love for you. Just… the end.

You tilt your head to the side as Michael continues to kiss down your neck and you close your eyes. Your hand is lost on his hair as you get lost in thought. Why does the memory need to come back now?

Michael lifts his head and looks down at you. The look on your eyes confused him and he pulls back to look at you.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, fearing the worst.

You don’t answer, yet your hand moves to cup the side of his face. He leans closer to your palm and your heart tightens.

He’s sorry. He apologized. He regrets it. He wants to take it back. Michael. Your Michael wants to take it back.

You pull him closer to you and you reconnect your lips with his. The kiss is soft all over again and the feeling is enough to push all those awful memories and thoughts away.

Your hands travel down his cheeks to his neck and lightly travel down to his chest and his stomach. Your feather like touch makes Michael’s skin erupt into chills from how soft and light it is.

“I love you.” You whisper into his lips.

He looks at you in the eyes and whispers his answer back.

“And I love you.”

Your fingers fidget with the button of his pants and soon unbutton it with a quick movement. Michael looks down at your hands and smiles, looking back up and presses a kiss onto your jaw.

He pulls away, and without wasting any more time or feeding more into your impatience, he takes a hold of your dress and pulls it up, exposing your underwear and your stomach. Michael takes a hold of the sides of your undergarments and pulls them down your smooth legs.

The cold air and the sight steal small, almost inaudible, gasps from the two of you. Another piece of clothing flies off to the side, which makes you chuckle slightly, and Michael smiles at the sound of your laughter.

You stare up at the tree above you for a second and you soon feel soft kisses being pressed at the bottom of your stomach. It has been long enough since you’ve felt something like this, yet it feels familiar, which makes sense.

It is still Michael. It has just been a long time.

“Michael,” You call out of him, holding yourself up by your elbows, “There’s no time for this, please.”

You didn’t have to say twice, because Michael quickly rose his body back up and pressed a kiss into your lips again.

There’s the sound of his zipper and soon the shifting of fabric and while lost in the kiss, Michael lays you back on the ground comfortably. His hand grabs into your leg and squeezes it softly, feeling himself lost for a second as your soft hands travel through his skin.

You gasp into the kiss as you feel him press into your entrance and Michael clenches his jaw at the sudden warmth touching him. You pull him close to you and Michael’s spear hand almost digs into the ground as he hides his head on your neck.

His other hand aligns him and slowly, he moves his hips towards yours. You groan lowly at the intrusion and he stops, giving you time as he doesn’t you to feel any kind of discomfort.

Your hand, that holds the back of Michael’s head, closes and he moves slightly again, moving in closer and closer to you, taking your movements as a hint for him to keep going. His cock slowly sliding into you, inch by inch, letting your warmth and wetness envelop him into its familiar hold that he so missed.

You gasp and he holds himself steady right as your take him all in. He lifts his head to check on you and his lips pepper your skin with soft kisses, some lost in his uneven breathing as he does so.

“You can move.” You whisper at him.

He doesn’t say anything, he lifts a few inches away from you and his hand comes back to your thigh. His movements start and they soon become thrusts.

Your soft gasps evolve into moans and Michael swears he’s dreaming. Your sounds are complete music to his ears, making them vibrate at the sweetness they carry, and, god, he had missed this.

Slowly, his thrusts start to accelerate, and your eyes force themselves closed. The way Michael’s hips hit yours and the way you squeeze him is driving the both of you insane. Your nails are digging into his arm as a small ball of pleasure starts to build up at the end of your stomach.

Michael lifts his arm and lays his hand beside your head. He eyes your body, still covered by the almost see-through fabric.

His breathing his loud and the sound of your bodies colliding with each other is all that fills your ears. His hand lets go of your leg and goes to your waist, his eyes analyzing your chest.

Michael presses a kiss on your sternum, over your dress and you arch your back at the feeling of his soft and warm lips. He clenches his jaw as the fabric stretches and exposes your chest to him, braless, nipples peeking through and appearing noticeable.

A shear layer of sweat covers the top of Michael’s forehead as the wind cools the warmth the both of you are creating. He lowers his head again and kisses you over the fabric of your dress that hugs your body so beautifully.

He looks down at where the two of you connect and a groan escapes his lips.

He, without any warning, grabs into your leg again and pulls up to your chest, letting another soft moan escape your mouth.

“Fuck, Michael…” You whisper at him.

He lifts off you and brings his other hand to your other leg. Still thrusting into your pussy, the sight as just improved to Michael, while you are lost at the difference it made to just rise your legs.

“God, you’re so perfect.” He mumbles at you, voice almost breaking into a whisper from his heavy breathing.

You throw your head back as his movements speed up and the pleasure in you intensifies.

After so long, it almost feels unreal to feel such emotion. It is more than pleasure, it’s an explosion of emotions.

All of those same emotions have been bottled up at the back of your mind and long forgotten, almost as if you had dismissed them because you didn’t believe you would ever feel them ever again.

But they are back and you’re feeling them at such a rate that you feel like tears are starting to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision.

You’ve probably thought this a thousand times, but, god, it feels like you’re dreaming. You pray that this won’t end in any way close to how your dreams usually do, but in a way, you’re not worried.

You don’t fear a bad ending in this, you don’t feel scared or anxious. You feel good. You feel happy and loved. Loved by someone who has shown way more love to you than any other person.

Someone you would vow to never stop loving if it meant that he will never leave your side. Someone that has never belonged to someone the same way he has belonged to you. No matter who has or will come in between you, you know the truth and you believe that it is the truth.

He loves you. He hurt you, but he loves you. He showed he was sorry, he apologized- Jesus, he saved your life. He didn’t let you die in his arms. He cried and feared your death right when you were bleeding a puddle into the ground.

Michael belongs to you and nobody else. He knows it, and he has told that himself that many times before. Now more than ever.

He belongs to you and you belong to him. And that is just how it is, and how it always will be.

A/N.: I am not going to lie... I cried when proofreading Michael’s confession about his feelings. I’m such a cry baby, god.

[Sorry that the apology part was so shit. I, myself, struggled with justify that shit and got myself annoyed with it.]

Taglist: @ohhersheybars @woodland-mist @onlythechicagoway @soleil-dor @finn-shelbys-bulldog @oh-theres-a-woman @peakyxtommy @ms-reader @beautycinders @lovemissyhoneybee @graceedwards @jadesbabylon @marvelismylifffe @a-dorky-book-keeper @peakascum @shanetoo @hufflemendes @cherrytop02 @http-cherries @burnitup @livingforbarnes @iccyyyybitch @ravennaofasgar @carezzesuigraffi @fernweh-fangirl @hufflepeople @huskyhunny @desertgremlin @fireawayxx @lemur46 @sugarcoated-lame @i-sneeze-to-appease @gabytodd @cococola-cocaine @namelesslosers @dibs-on-mikey @lreincarnationl @lil-hungryy @7shadesofharold @sh4desofsadness @fairyofvoid @kennastyles

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Hope you enjoyed this! If would like to make any questions about the characters or when the next part will be available. My ask box is always open.

#michael gray x reader #michael gray imagine #michael gray imagines #michael gray #finn shelby #finn cole x reader #finn cole imagine #finn cole imagines #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines

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another-fantasy-world · 4 years ago

Text

5:1 with Natasha Romanoff

GIF isn’t mine

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Title: The 5 Times Natasha Held Her Tears Back, And The One Time She Couldn't

Pairings: (Romantic) Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Angst. Just pure angst. Maybe a sprinkle of Fluff. Major Character Death

Reader Pronouns: She/They, (I don't even think I put the reader's pronouns in, but it's what I was thinking of.)

Word Count: 5065 words

Author's note: I was feeling angsty these past few weeks so why not? I think this is all the angst I have stored in my body for this month. I'll go back to writing fluff now. I sincerely apologize for this.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

You hated this.

Of course you did. SHIELD managed to destroy what you considered a home. It wasn't the best, they made you fight each other, they made you sit in a chair, electrocuting you or injecting you with weird chemicals. But you were their best, the best in that institute, and now you would have to fight for the top spot again.

“You. You're facing our newbie. We need to test her strength.” This too old to be alive, bulky man pointed at a brunette girl, who was now shaking.

“Let's see if you are what they made you out to be.” Madame B uttered as the guy pushed you to the center.

“Begin.” She said, her eyes focused on your movement.

You begin by circling the brunette, sizing her up. The perks of the power you were born with is that you can easily see their weak spots, parts that would make them cry out for mercy that you'll never give.

She begins the fight with a fatal mistake, running at you with her fist almost hitting your face, you caught the fist and twisted it just enough for her wrist to be broken. She didn't scream, which was disappointing.

You decided to do the next move, still holding her broken wrist, you held her elbow and flipped her onto her back, knocking the air out of her.

“Stand up.” You glared at the brunette, pissed that she was knocked down way too easily.

And she stands up, hiding her broken wrist behind her back as she fought with her legs and feet instead. Blocking a high kick, you held her right foot and slammed your elbow to her knee as hard as you can, making her leg bend in an unnatural way, this time making her scream in pain as she fell down to the ground.

“Eliminate the weak.” Madame B's voice echoed in the room

“Understood.” You replied, kicking the brunette so her face is on the ground. No matter how hard they train and brainwash you, you refused to see the face of your victims as they died, so you always turn their head the opposite way. She cries and begs for mercy, and you smirk at her pathetic attempts of surviving. Should've fought better then.

Producing a dagger from your thigh, you straddled her hips and plunged the dagger deep into where you know her heart is, making blood pool around her.

“Hmm.” Madame B hummed, her body language shows her positivity.

“Fine. We'll take her in.” Madame B said to your previous handler

You stand there, bored out of your brain as people clean the mess you made.

“Natalia.” The name Madame B mumbled brought you back to reality as a gorgeous redhead made her way to you.

“She's going to be the one you'll see frequently. Both of you are going on missions, so get along girls. I can't have our greatest assets kill each other.”

“Natalia.”

“Y/N” you accepted her handshake, her tight grip on your hand as she pulls you close.

“You'll regret killing her.” her voice faltered, giving away that she's close to sobbing her little heart out.

“The weak has no place in this world. It's kill or be killed, Natalia.” You bit back, your grip also tightening

As your handler led you away to a cell specifically made for you, You could swear you heard Natalia say something.

You turned back to see Natasha's beautiful green eyes lined with tears she desperately pulled back.

“Remember me.” She mouthed, tilting her head up to prevent the tears from falling.

It was the first time you saw Natalia hold her tears back

II.

You don't know how to feel.

Natalia escaped the Red room. You were extremely proud of her for escaping this hell. But you were pissed that she didn't even try to inform you of it.

You had been in a mission, an attempt for you to forget about the bond you and Natalia had, It didn't work, because the second you landed, you teleported to her room. A new power that you obtained from them, only to find her bed occupied with another. You grit your teeth and opted to kill this girl that's laying on your beloved's bed.

“Silence. Don't waste your time. She is not here, and killing that girl will not erase that feeling in your heart. We have another mission, let all your frustration out on that.” Your new handler said. This handler was much more gentler than the last one you killed, and you refrained from killing her because of that. She had become a mother of sorts.

“Another mission? I just got back.” You shook your head.

“You need to. I think you'll be interested in this one. Budapest” She hands you a file.

…and Natalia's face was plastered on the file.

“What is this?” You grit out

“Natalia joined SHIELD.”

The anger you felt was what led to where you are now.

“Y/N! Stop! Listen to me!” She grunts as you both land blow, after blow. You, letting all your frustrations out with your body, and her defending herself

“Why should I? You left me. YOU BETRAYED ME!” You say, your thoughts clouded

“They're using you! Fuck. They only see you as an asset for fucks sake!” She winces in pain as your dagger nicks her face, blood dripping from the wound on her face

“I know. So come and save me.” You mumbled when you had her in your arms, a dagger on her throat, threatening to slice it open.

“...I can't” She says, holding back her tears, her hands trying to find your other hand, trying to find comfort in this sick reality

“Then so be it.” You say with finality, hearing your handler say that the mission was complete, and you fulfilled your role of being the distraction.

You drop Natalia, her hand on her throat, trying to stop the bleeding. You both know it wasn't lethal, but it was still bleeding a lot.

“Be careful Natalia.” You whispered, before turning away from her, refusing to see her teary eyes. The sharpshooter was by her side in an instant, making you wish that it was you comforting her, not this man named after a bird.

Natalia can't help but stare at your retreating figure, guilt, regret, anger and sadness weighing her down. 8 years of training with each other, 8 years of flirty missions that would get you both punished, and 8 years of friendship, thrown down the drain, all because she refused to fight for you, all because she was following the rules set for her. It was then she realized, SHIELD isn't that much different from the red room and HYDRA.

Natasha held her tears back once again.

III.

You felt excited for once.

After years of boring, too easy missions that were given to you, you were finally qualified enough for a mission with the Avengers, as if mass murdering people and assassinating people weren't enough qualification. HYDRA suspects that the Avengers will interfere with this specific mission, so they sent you to be a guard of some sort. You complained at first, wanting to move around and not be a body guard, but now you were relieved that your handler persisted you take this role.

“Come here often?” The green-eyed woman says, ordering herself a cocktail.

“No. Not at all. My sister was invited to this whole thing, and I just tagged along. Her personal bodyguard if you will.” You say, facing her and sipping your drink

“Natasha.” She chuckles, extending her hand

“Y/N” You chuckle back, she changed her name again.

“You never changed your name?” She asked, scooting closer to you, sipping on her orange-colored cocktail.

“It's part of my charm, why change it?” You smirked

“What are you doing here, Silence.” She says, her playful attitude disappearing, a frown now placed on her pretty face.

“Ouch, Natalia. Busting out the professional nicknames, that's painful. And giving up on that flirty tactic already? My, my. You must be getting rusty then.” You say, clutching your heart in faux pain

“I don't have time to waste, Y/LN. What. Does. HYDRA. Want. From. Samantha. Durkink?” You chuckled at her attempt of fishing out info

“Why don't you ask Samantha herself?” You say, lifting your glass to the target's general direction.

Natasha's eyes followed the direction you pointed, and there she was, the target, dressed in a dark violet medieval era-like gown, her eyes then roamed around to the delicately decorated ballroom, fit for a royal ball.

You watch her as she tried to get through the crowed that was dancing, laughing lightly when you see her struggling. You then laughed once again when a man mistook her for a dancing partner and instantly pulled her to dance, the crowd was dancing together, all in sync, which amazed you.

After a few minutes, you decide to take Natasha out of her misery.

“May I cut in?” You ask the man who was dressed like that one prince from that movie, Ice or something. You only saw it when you babysat Red room candidates.

He nodded and you slipped Natasha into your arms, your hands on her waist and palm, while her hands were on your shoulder and palm. The two of you waltz quietly for a few minutes, before you leaned into her ear, the one you knew had her comms.

“You have approximately 7 minutes to leave the building with your team. I personally dislike what they are about to do, but HYDRA has found a rather unorthodox way of burning evidence. And as much as I don't like it. It's a way easier way of...burning the evidence away with a bang. You understand right?” You pat her head, looking into her eyes fondly, letting your guard slip for just a second.

“I'm proud of you.”

And that was all Natasha could hear for the past hour. Even as she stared at the now burning mansion, the screams of people that were trapped in that building resonating in the air. Even as she was being suffocated by her team's emotions because the mission failed. All she can hear and see is you. Your eyes burning with passion she had never seen before, not even in missions, you always had an emotionless look on your face, much like hers. And yet, there you were, under the chandelier, looking at her like you care for her, looking at her like she's your world, looking at as if you...love her.

And that was what led Natasha to hold her tears back, even if she was in the privacy of her own room, her eyes on the small rectangular box you gave her.

She refused to believe that you love her. No. Love is for children. Love isn't meant for her. Love isn't meant for you. Love. No. She doesn't deserve love. Especially not from you.

She held her tears back harder when she realized. When all the “unexplained circumstances” happened, she never found who caused it. And now she knew. Now she realized.

You never stopped caring for her after all these years.

IV.

You care for her

After months of beating yourself up, you finally accepted it. You care for this reckless, red-haired assassin, who always seem like she never gets her life together. This green-eyed goddess who can never catch a break. This assassin who betrayed you. This woman who babysits Gods. This woman, who's sleeping beside you, her face oddly peaceful and calm, a complete opposite for what you were feeling.

“Idiot. Spending time with other idiots has made her an idiot herself.” You mumbled, flipping a page of this random fantasy story that's been translated to Russian.

“Hmmn. You were talking shit there Y/LN?” She stirred

“I was. You slept for 2 days Nat.” You say with no emotion in your voice.

“So mean.” She says, reaching around you, pulling you close and buried her head on your stomach. You were taken aback. She was never like this...unless

“What happened yesterday Nat? You know how forgetful I get.” You smiled at her sweetly

“Well, we were on a mission in Indonesia, and you killed your handler to give me ice cream.” She smiled

…ah- her brain must've reset itself when she almost drowned

“...I'm sorry Nat.” You say, a frown on your face.

“When did you start calling me Nat?” She asks, to which you just smirked

“Free, Proven, Easy, Loyal, Secret, Care, Loyal, Love.” You spoke in Russian, and Natasha's eyes turned blank, before they turned into panic

“Y/N? Oh my god.”

“...You have become annoyingly American.” You scoffed, annoyed that her first words after being brought back to reality are that of a Typical American

“Well, I at least needed to pass as American born or else I would've been deported you ass!” She goes to punch your face, but you blocked it with your book.

“Not the face Natalia.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes when she winced in pain

“Don't force your body. You have a flesh wound from the bullet that grazed you.” You say, placing your book on the nightstand and guide her to lay down.

“You promised not to use those words unless needed, Atrax.” She grunts, a cold hard glare directed to you.

“And I knew you wouldn't like living in a false reality, Widow.” You thumped her head with your palm.

“...That reality is a dream we once knew.” She mumbles, tears threatening to fall

You hold her face, wiping the tears before they fall. You knew her as much as she knows you. She hates showing weakness, She hates crying, So you vowed to never let her cry in front of you again.

“It's a dream that I can make a reality.” You nodded

“what?” She asks after a while, surprised

“If I could escape this hell, I would. And I'll bring you along with me, even if I have to tie a rope on your waist. We'll travel to a peaceful land far away and build ourselves a beautiful house with a backyard. Maybe a kid or two. But no more than that. 2 dogs, 2 cats, 3 spiders and 1 snake” You quoted yourself from 10 years ago, making her chuckle, but abruptly stops

“We were young.” She says, frowning

“And?”

“We were foolish Y/N. We were kids!” She shouts in your face

“...ah. I understand. You think that I break my promises? Well newsflash widow. I didn't break a single promise I made!” A look of anger in your face, you drag Natasha by her uninjured arm and pulled her right in front of the bathroom mirror.

“Look at me. Look at you. I promised you that someday you'll look at ballet as a form of comfort and not remind you of the pain it caused, You dance whenever you feel the need to cry! I promised you that you'll get out of that damn red room with or without me, And look what happened! Granted that I wasn't the one to get you out, I made sure you never returned. I promised that someday we'll look into each other's eyes without a dagger on each other's throat...” You trailed off, her green eyes tearing up again.

“I promised that I'll never let you cry in front of me. And I intend to fulfill that.” You say, wiping the tears before they fell once again

“It's not crying if tears don't fall.” You quote her from 12 years ago

And at that moment, Natasha let herself indulge in this sinful dream of hers. Her lips touched yours as moonlight made her bare skin glow, her taking what's rightfully hers, sitting on her own throne. The sweat trailing down her skin as quiet music erupt from both of you. You never wanted this moment to end, but alas the sun rose, and it was time to face reality once again.

“I can't...” She says the moment the sun shone through the curtains.

“I understand.” You say, standing up to get yourself dressed

“I'll leave you with a choice then. If you change your mind.” You softly say to her, left hand clutching the bag that you need and the other holding her face softly.

“See you in a minute.”

Natasha once again held her tears back, her hands trembling as it held the two envelopes that seem so heavy. One containing fresh, new, fake identity and a plane ticket to God knows where. And the other held a car key, a house key and some money to aid her travel back to the compound. Well the choice is heavy. To leave the Avengers behind, and rekindle a lost flame in a faraway land, or to stay, and continue to fight and to protect.

In the end, Natasha chose them.

You felt at peace.

A couple months at a quiet town did wonders to your mental health. You were now playing piano in an old studio made to teach young students ballet. It was now abandoned, but you bought it, just for the nostalgia

“I knew I'd find you here.” You hear her voice echoing, You stopped playing Swan Lake, OP.20, Act II for a second

“Hmmhmmn. You've always been the better spy out of both of us.” You say, switching your piece to The Nutcracker: Dance of Sugar-Plum Fairy

“Ah. My outfit isn't fit for ballet” She says

“That never stopped you before, Widow.” You chuckled, smiling wider when she started to dance to the rhythm you set.

“Why didn't you stay there?” She asked while floating around the room, your piece now switched to The Sleeping Beauty, Ballet Suite, Op.66a: V. Valse.

“Not my scene, as I hate to admit. I missed the chaos. But I miss the silence too. It's a tough choice.”

“Trust me. I know.” She scoffs, then her eye widens at how insensitive that sounded

“Heh. Of course.”

“Switch to Giselle, will you?” She asks, her toes supported her weight even though she's not wearing pointe shoes

“Bossy.” You mumbled, but complying anyways

And there you both reveled in the bond you both had. Both expressing your feelings in the way that you knew the most. Music and Ballet. Your feelings of Regret, merging with Natasha's, Your feelings of Shame, battled Natasha's sadness, Your pride shoved down your throat as Natasha also shoved hers. As the melody you played turned into a much softer tune, Natasha's love vibrated through the air, as did yours, The feelings you held back came crashing down as you too try to hold back your tears.

There was no need to explain to each other. You both knew. Well, you sure hope she knew what you think. After all, you left her a letter in each envelope. And while she never sent a letter back, she had the habit of hacking into your morning radio and deliver small messages through Morse code, leaving you to figure out her puzzle of a message.

“You're happy. I like that.” You say, abandoning your piano to approach her

“I'm happy because of them.” She says, her green eyes staring back at yours

“Good. I'm glad. You seem different now.” Your eyes filled with tears, turning your back to her as you wiped the tears from your eyes

“Dance with me?” You take the hand on your shoulder, and let her guide you in dancing. Waltz has always been your favorite.

“I felt like we've done this before.” She says, her head dropping on your shoulders

“Perhaps in another life.” You concluded, spinning her

As you continue dancing to the silent music, you can't help but think how much you loved this woman. And that you could never handle the pain of letting her go again.

You also knew what this felt like. Farewell. Last Dance. You held her closer.

Natasha was saying farewell.

But you can't let her go. Not now. Not when you just accepted that you do love her, you're in love with this divine being, you're in love with Natasha Romanoff.

Even when no one taught you how to love, even when you knew love is for children, even when you know she's too good for you, even when she's an entirely different person when she's with you, her gentle gazes drown you, even when you know you're not worth of even touching her. You still accepted that you are in love. You are in love with Natalia Alianovna Romanoff.

And you know she feels the same. So why?

Why?

Why was she walking away now?

Why?

Why are you letting her get away?

Why?

Why did you let her break your peace?

Why?

Why did you let her break you?

“Take care of yourself.”

Four words and the sight of her back getting farther and farther away is enough to completely shatter your already broken heart.

Madame B was right. Love is for children.

Natasha didn't need to look back.

She couldn't

Not when your sobs ring throughout the whole studio

Natasha once again held back her tears.

Natasha once again held back the words.

Natasha once again held back her feelings.

Natasha once again held back her tears.

She can never get you back now can she?

Natasha held her tears back.

Pain. Dark. Cold.

That was all you felt right now.

Hours ago, you fulfilled another promise you made when Natasha left you. To make her feel pain. To make her feel the pain she caused you. You fought the Avengers one by one. Catching them off guard and capturing them. Creating cells for them and them only.

You created an elaborate trap for all of them.

You wanted all of them to feel your pain.

You wanted them to know the feeling.

The feeling. The feeling of pain you felt every time Natasha chose them over you.

The feeling of pain when they stole Natasha over and over again.

But you knew you were only making excuses for yourself.

Who could blame you?

Well, all of them apparently.

And then you saw how Natasha fought for them. Screaming for you to let them go. Her resolve never faltering as she fought, taking the floors of the building by storm. Reaching each area where you keep each Avenger captive.

It was then you knew.

They were the villains in your story. Always in the way of you getting your princess back.

Oh how blind and foolish you were.

You were always the villain in their story. The ex-hydra agent who killed more than The Winter Soldier and Black Widow combined. You were the evil sorcerer.

And them? They were the royal knights protecting the Queen.

You scoffed at yourself. Of course you would make a grave mistake. You let yourself drown in the emotions you weren't supposed to have anyways.

“That heart is what'll get you killed. Mark my words, Silence.” Madame B's last words before you killed her.

You deactivated the whole building before leaving a note for Natalia.

You teleported to the rooftop, letting the air kiss your skin. You let yourself enjoy.

Because for once in your life, you don't know what happens next.

“... Atrax.”

“Widow.”

“How could you?”

“...A circle has no beginning nor end. What happens in the beginning shall happen again in the end to fulfill the cycle.” You say, drawing your dagger and turning to face her in all her glory.

The Sun's rays gently touches her skin, leaving her glowing slightly. This. This is one of the many memories you wish to remember when you get reincarnated once again.

She pulls out a familiar dagger. The one you gave her before you blew up that one mansion.

“Are we really going to end this way?” She says, anger and pain shone in her eyes as her face mimicked an emotionless stare.

“It would seem so.”

And so the clashing of blades began. Punch after punch. Kick after kick. Takedowns after takedowns. You don't want to lose. And neither does she.

You both then engaged into what you can call, the dance of death. With the clashing daggers as the music and combat as your choreography.

And then Natasha changed the rhythm. Using her dagger to slice your cheek, just as you did her in Budapest. But that also caused her to open a weak spot of hers.

Ignoring the pain, you decide to change the rhythm as well. Moving like a snake, tangling your feet to hers, making her fall down. You then slammed your boot on her chest, slowly putting pressure, slowly smashing her ribs, making her clutch your ankle, trying to gasp for air.

“Any last words Nat- Black Widow?” You ask, pointing the dagger right above her heart.

“...I love you.” Natasha finally let the three words out of her mouth, regretting not saying it earlier.

You tensed up, your shoulders tensing. Anger flared in your eyes.

Why now?

Why?

Is this fake?

Is she lying?

Why?

“Why now?” You whispered, not even bothering to hold back your tears.

You're tired.

Too tired.

“I always did. I just- Ugh. I just never had the courage to tell you.” She grunts out, trying to push your foot away, but you ended up digging it into her deeper.

“...Liar.” You gritted out, swiftly plunging the knife deep in her heart, enjoying the feel of her blood slowly emerging from her heart, the sight of the life in her eyes slowly fade.

You broke your ritual. You didn't turn her back to you. You saw her face.

…

Why?

Because you didn't kill her.

Natasha thought she was dead. In fact, she felt your dagger dig into her skin.

So why?

Why does she feel your hand in hers.

Right...

You have powers.

…

You have powers.

She instantly opened her eyes, her brain catching up.

“NO! What have you done! You stupid! Reckless! Piece of Shit!” She says, she slaps your face as she sees your eyes closing.

Pain Transfer.

You transferred her pain to your body. You transferred her lethal wound into yours. You sacrificed yourself to save her from the death that you, yourself, caused

You basically killed yourself.

“Forgive me, Natalia. I broke our promise.” You pulled her bloody hand from your chest and held it tightly in your hand.

“You promised to stay alive as long as I am. You never break your promises.” Natasha held her tears back, crying will make it real.

Your death isn't real. No. But loving you is.

She never got the chance to show you how much she loves you.

“This is our reality Nat. I was foolish to think I could ever change it...” You trailed off, coughing out blood. This was the first time you thanked your powers for moving so slow. You have more time. With her. And that's all you could ever ask for,

“...Stop crying Natalia. Heroes always win remember? Besides, I knew you'd let yourself die before you ever think of killing me, so I did it myself.” You grinned at her as best as you can.

“Idiot.” She whispered

“I love you too you know? Please remember that I love you. They love you too. But I love you the most.” You whispered back, the moonlight shining on your bare skin.

Natasha always go back to that night you shared whenever she sees the moonlight, but now, it's corrupted by the feeling of your grip slowly loosening, until it's only her that's holding on.

It was you who always held on.

You held on to the bond no matter how many times you got hurt because of it.

You held on to the hope that someday, you'll get to call her yours, and she gets to call you hers.

You held on, even as she repeatedly let you go.

And she can't help but regret that. She regrets it so much more now.

Now, she's the only one left.

There was nothing more to hold on to.

Nothing but the promise of living a life without you by her side.

Nothing but the memory of your smile.

The memory of you scolding her every time she got hurt.

Memories of you laughing

Memories of you dancing. Dancing with her.

She doesn't know how to say bye to you.

She doesn't know how to let you go now.

It seems like, she's done it so much that she forgot how to do so now.

She remembers every single promise you made. And the one promise you broke.

She can only hope that you can forgive her.

She's going to make you break your own promise.

But it's void now right?

You're gone.

She can cry now right?

She can cry as she reads the last letter you left?

She can cry as she reads the journal where you put all your memories in, because you're afraid of forgetting her, right?

She can cry as she opens the velvet box right?

She can cry as she puts the ring you left her as her necklace right?

She can cry as she reads that all your properties are now hers, right?

She can cry now.

She can let go of her feelings now.

But she can never let you go.

And then, for once Natasha used FRIDAY's soundproof function.

For once. Natasha let her emotions run rampant.

For once, she cried. She sobbed. She screamed. As if it'd make you come back.

If you were foolish enough to think that you can change reality, Then Natasha was foolish enough to hope you come back.

Natasha couldn't hold her tears back anymore.

Taglist: @jj-arms @satxnsupreme

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow angst #natasha romanoff angst

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years ago

Text

The Good I Come Home To ||Leon S. Kennedy x Female!Reader|| Part 1

Warnings: Angsty, PTSD Leon being very jumpy and shell-shocked, mentions of sex.

Words: 3318

Summary: Originally posted to my Archive of Our Own Account.

Part 2 can be found here

Leon has kept it very casual with you for months, seemingly oblivious of the growing feelings you harbour. You have no idea just how badly it hurts him to leave you every time until he tries to cut you out of his life completely. You have other ideas. You just have to persuade Leon they're the right ones.

Leon S. Kennedy was a complicated man in many respects, but it was easy to unravel all those complex layers if you started looking at his core values, his sense of purpose. To serve, to protect. Leon was built to be the bodyguard of humanity, the first line of defence between unimaginable horror and the things he loved. Every experience had moulded him into this hard shell of a man, so far from the one people used to know. It had been interesting, really, to see an old friend from the Police Academy approach him and see just how different they had turned out. They both had the eyes of experience anybody in the force acquired over time, but Leon’s were sterner, like an unbreakable stone as opposed to ice you could chip away at and eventually shatter. This old friend of his had a small-town job and apple pie life. He had the white picket fence and the wife who kissed him when he came home to freshly made dinner. His children were doing well at school.

Leon had listened like his life was a whole other world away. It was visible in his eyes, though he carefully kept it off his face, that the comparison between each man actually disturbed him. You hadn’t meant to see of course. It was pure coincidence you’d happened to be in the supermarket, walking down that same aisle. His old friend had hit the barricade you so often hit when you asked. You’d stopped questioning it after a few months of back and forth and the looming threat of losing him became a dark and unbearable burden.

“So er, heard about the huge explosion at Raccoon. Where’d they place you after that?”

“Nowhere. I work for the government now.”

“Oh damn. FBI?”

“Something like that.”

His job was the complicated topic. Classified and bad enough to put a certain brand of darkness behind his eyes when you asked, it was best left untouched by your hands because it was hidden beneath the many layers of the man you’d only ever been allowed to scratch the surface of – literally and figuratively. Beyond his core values, the simplicity of Leon S. Kennedy lay in his needs. He was a flesh and blood man after all. He was guaranteed to need to eat, to do laundry, to shower, to relieve himself. These simple needs were what made him somewhat predictable to you. On his best days, when he text you days or hours before, you were almost guaranteed to be wined and dined. Okay so the wine and dine option was sometimes more like beer and take-out pizza but it was always paid for by him if you bought the alcohol.

When he was feeling a little less than okay, you’d get no outright statement of his desire to see you, but he’d hedge around the topic and wait for you to ask him, like he was afraid to be a nuisance. You’d only get this awkward and prompting behaviour from him an hour or two before he showed up which left you little time to prepare, but a quick shower was always on the cards. In his worst moments, he’d give no warning and simply show up at your house with smouldering eyes that demanded your attention and everything else you had to give him. God help you, you always gave him everything. As simple as his needs were, as his feelings on the matter appeared, yours were much more complicated. Leon S. Kennedy had made it clear from the start when he met you at the bar that fateful night, all chiselled jaw and playful eyes, that nothing serious was to come of this.

It had progressed to a proper agreement when you both seemed to just keep running into each other. You were free to date, if you so pleased, and he’d stop showing up. He’d be gone like dust in the wind, untraceable and impossible to bring back. You didn’t want that. Until the day either of you became tied down you had agreed you were exclusive. You sated each other only. It was hard to keep to that promise all the time when he was away for long periods, but you remained true to your word anyway, and that was how it had stayed for a solid eight months. Leon came back to a bed you kept free just for him and left in the morning like it was no more than a pit-stop on a long and winding road.

You suspected he wasn’t proud of it. You thought sometimes you could see something softer in his eyes, something that made you think he wished for something more than he was already giving you. There were moments his eyes lingered when he said goodbye, times his hands stayed on you a little longer than they usually did. On rare occasions, when he was just a bit too drunk after what you guessed was a bad job, you let him sleep it off with his arms around you and listened to the whimpers in his sleep with an aching heart. Leon consistently let you have his body, gave you the briefest glimpses at the big heart he held so carefully hidden away, but never once did he let you into his mind. As much as you loved being with him, you had never truly been with him at all. You’d never truly connected with him beyond anything physical. It pained you to know you never would. You cared for him too much. You saw the deep pain he carried with him everywhere, and you’d never be able to alleviate that load because he wouldn’t let you.

You had to pause the TV to be sure you’d actually heard anything at all, but when you heard the noise again it was stronger, bolder. Knocking. Glancing at the clock, you turned the TV off with a frown. There weren’t many people who would come knocking at this late hour, and you didn’t know if your heart was in it tonight to let him in when he would forever keep you out. As if on cue, when you opened the door to a dripping wet Leon, thunder rumbled and rattled the open window in the corridor of your apartment block. A small puddle of water had formed on the windowsill, dripping in as the harsh rain battered the glass. Leaving your door propped with the door stop you kept nearby for moments like these, you crossed to the window to close it and lock out the weather. You felt sullen enough without the storm clouds invading your house.

“Leon if you’re here to drink that’s okay but I’m not really up for-“ you cut yourself off, uncertain all of a sudden as to what it was he was here for. His needs were always so simple, the looks and actions associated with them something you had come to learn to recognise without much conscious thought. This was entirely new. Those piercing blue eyes were sullen, fighting between being as hard as sapphire and as soft as calm ocean waves. What was frightening was the depth of the ocean you saw. It was like staring into an abyss of torment. Red-ringed and with whisky on his breath, it didn’t take a genius to realise Leon had been crying and was in fairly bad shape. Hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, he stared at you through those horribly complex eyes, his mouth half open like he wanted to say something but couldn’t force the words out. He was pale, breaths even but heavy, like he had to physically remind himself to huff out each one.

Wordlessly, you took him by the hand. His skin was freezing to the touch and you guessed the faithful jacket had done little to keep the bitter cold from seeping into his exposed skin. Your theory was proven right when his cheeks were just as cold to the touch.

“I…” you thought he might say more but it was like watching a caveman learn to talk. There were only sounds, no words. He was usually very skilful with his tongue but tonight those talents were nowhere to be found. Pushing his jacket from his shoulders you hung it to dry over the back of your sofa, hoping the radiator would do its job and leave it toasty for him when he inevitably put it on to leave you again. You ignored the stinging in your chest at the thought. Leon didn’t need you to be petty right now. Truthfully, you were frightened. Leon’s carefully constructed composure had been shattered by something and you didn’t think you wanted to know what was strong enough to shatter this man’s rock hard exterior and cut him so deeply. He stood dumbly in your hallway, and you gently pushed him to the edge of the sofa to take off his shoes so they wouldn’t traipse water into your home.

“Shhh Leon, just come with me.” You coaxed him back onto socked feet, leading him down the hall to your bathroom.

“No…no Y/N I, I don’t…” he swallowed.

“Do you trust me Leon?” you asked him, keeping your voice gentle like you were cajoling a wild animal into eating from your palm. Leon nodded without question and you smiled slightly. “Then just follow for me now.” You kicked open your door and led him to the edge of the tub, grabbing a towel from the shelving units there and placing it on the sink.

“What are you doing?” he could barely speak above a whisper, looking confused and upset and lost all at once.

“I’m going to run you a nice hot bath before you catch your death. I don’t know how long you were in the rain for Leon but you’re frozen to the bone.” You said calmly, putting the plug in the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. Leon didn’t answer, merely watched you with the eyes of a man so lost in trauma he couldn’t find his way back to the surface world and make sense of the happenings around him. While you waited for the water to turn steamy, you rubbed at his hair with the towel in your hand to dry it. You knew something was incredibly wrong when he let you mess it up like that. There were very few instances you were allowed to touch his hair and you had to always, always comb it back into place or suffer the consequences. Occasionally, you took a break to fill the tub with some of your prized bath oils. Lavender, camomile, jasmine, all your favourite scents from a beautiful kit a colleague had bought you as part of secret Santa last year.

He didn’t comment as the room filled with intoxicating, relaxing scents, nor when you checked the temperature again and told him he could get in when he was ready. He held the towel in both hands, staring at the cotton as if it might hold some answers.

“Thank you.” He mumbled. You nodded once.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” you asked him. He nodded once, but he didn’t meet your gaze. He was lying you were sure. “Okay. Take as long as you need in here, I’ll be about when you feel ready to see me alright?” you promised, leaning up to kiss his cheek softly. Your lips lingered a little too long, but Leon didn’t move away. He closed his eyes as if the contact was all he had wanted and more. As the door closed behind you you heard the soft, muffled sob he tried so hard to bury in the towel, and your heart broke a little more. Something had shattered Leon S. Kennedy and it didn’t sit well with you at all to see him this vulnerable. He needed the space right now to get his mind back in order but once he did, when he was ready to face you, you weren’t sure you’d get an explanation from him. He’d shut down every time you’d ever asked for one before.

He’d woken screaming one night, lashing out so violently that if you had been sat upright there’d have been no way to avoid his fist and he’d have knocked you out cold. When you tried to ask what was wrong, he’d simply snapped at you to leave him be and left your apartment so fast there could have been a fire under his ass. So, what did you do? Did you just not even try? He hadn’t made a move on you, had specifically said no when he saw you heading in the direction of the bedroom. But if he wasn’t here for sex what was he here for? It only added to your anxiety that you really had no clue what he wanted if it wasn’t your body he’d come for, and though part of you thought that should make you angry, another part of you hoped that that meant it was something more that he was after this time. The kind of more you wanted.

No. You had to try for him. You couldn’t let him go on like this. He didn’t have to fight the war in his head alone, not when you were here. At least, if he wanted to go it alone, he could have someone stable waiting with a safety net if he stumbled. For now you’d let him linger and soak in the tub, and you’d make the most out of the ingredients you had in the fridge. If he stayed, he could eat it off a plate. If he didn’t…well, you’d make some in a container in case. Pasta bake had always been your father’s speciality and it had been your favourite as a child, was still your comfort food now. Chicken and bacon sizzled, pasta boiled, and you grated the cheese to the rhythm of your favourite song playing softly on the radio while the milk and butter warmed on the stove. You snagged a piece of bacon from the wok and let the salty flavour burn your tongue.

With your masterpiece constructed and more cheese grated on top, you slid the dish into the oven for it to crisp up and set your timer, setting about washing the utensils next. It kept your hands busy, kept your mind from wandering too much, but even the sudsy water couldn’t quite keep your mind from ticking over. Why had Leon come here in the pouring rain? What had spooked him so badly he’d thought, in his less than coherent state, that he needed to be here in your apartment? Did the fact he’d come to you mean anything at all or did he just happen to be nearby? You put the saucepan a little harder than necessary into the rack when it slipped from your hands, jumping and cursing to yourself at the loud clang it had made.

“Y/N!” Leon almost roared your name in pure, abject terror. Eyes wide you rushed for the bathroom, hands still soapy and dripping water. He was already out of the bathtub, naked and scrambling through his jacket until he came up with a gun of all things, aimed right at you as you burst through the door. A shriek escaped you and you immediately dropped to the floor, hands above your head.

“Leon it’s me!” you begged. Harsh breathing filled the room.

“Where is it?” he demanded. You peeked up at him from below your arms, lowering them slowly. He was half-crouched, eyes wild and fixated on the door that led back to your room. He offered you a hand. “Come on, get up and get behind me, where is it?” he repeated the question more firmly now.

“Where’s what? Leon I – there’s only us here. I just dropped a saucepan.” You breathed. His expression faltered, confusion flooding his features first , then guilt, and finally grief. His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply, held it, exhaled slowly. He lowered his gun after a few more deep breaths.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking a little like a kicked puppy. You shook your head, slowly pushing to your feet so as not to startle him. His skin was tinged pink, little suds clinging to the ends of his hair. The timer went off in the kitchen and Leon flinched again, hand tensing around the gun. You soothingly placed your hand on his arm.

“It’s just the timer. We’re the only people here Leon, nothing’s going to hurt us. How’s about you dry off and come have something to eat?” you suggested. He blanched at the mention of food and you frowned. “You don’t have to eat everything, just a little bit, you look really pale.” You reached for the towel and held it out to him until he reluctantly nodded and wrapped it around his waist. You left the door slightly ajar and headed for the kitchen to switch off the damn timer. He was so jumpy, so eager to jump to your defence. You plated up a small portion, not wanting to put him off with a large one. You didn’t feel particularly hungry yourself but you’d had a proper meal earlier in the evening, a cup of tea would suffice, camomile and honey would soothe your nerves. Leon had a liking for peppermint you knew. Maybe if he was nauseous that would help him eat? Tea and pasta bake served you sat opposite his place, one hand wrapped around the handle of your mug and the other pulled up to your mouth, your teeth nibbling the side of your nail.

“You’ll make your thumb sore.” He lingered in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if he should sit down or run away. You dropped your hand and placed a more welcoming smile on your lips, nodding to the plate.

“Chicken and bacon pasta bake. It’s good.” You invited. Hesitantly, Leon shuffled to the chair and sat down. You didn’t push him to talk. Months of being with Leon had assured you that pushing would only clam him up further, and you wanted to pry him open tonight. With a sinking feeling, you realised it might be the last night you ever saw him. He’d let himself be extremely vulnerable to you already and you weren’t the type of person to see this kind of trauma and let it go unchecked. You’d want to check in on him, you’d want to help him feel better, and Leon didn’t appreciate the questions you’d have to ask to get the kind of help he needed right. He sighed slightly, picking up the fork and taking a small bite. He looked physically sick for the first few mouthfuls, and you made an effort to distract him with small talk about the weather, your day and all its mundane happenings.

He seemed enraptured by your very voice, soaking in every syllable that crossed your lips and mindlessly working his arm and mouth to clear the plate and drain the mug in front of him.

“Can I have a bit more? It’s really good.” He surprised you with his request but you obliged him, spooning some more on his plate.

“If you’re that partial to it you can take some home to.” You said simply. He nodded once, clearing the second portion with ease and looking much better for it. The colour had returned to his cheeks and he looked a little more put together than before. You settled back in your chair, watched him clean his plate and put it in the drying rack. It was a courtesy you’d never have asked for but were grateful for nonetheless. He didn’t turn around though, keeping his back to you and tightening his grip on the countertop.

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy #female reader #leon kennedy x female reader #angsty #tw ptsd #part 1

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years ago

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Rare Mornings

A/N: I just got to Chapter 6 and it’s all fucking sad and I just need my cowboy to be happy so this takes place at Clemens Point but there’s no spoilers. <<< This was a note I left when I first made this but I have since passed Chapter 6 and I am sad. This doesn’t have a first part and is a stand alone (for now at least) If you saw my previous post about accidentally making a part 2 to something that doesn’t even have a part 1, this is it. Sorry if anything is confusing

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Summary: Quiet mornings with Arthur are rare, but they’re something you enjoy when you can.

***

Thunder rumbled quietly in the clouds above camp. Rain tapped against the canvas of the tent, the gentle noise creating a relaxing ambiance.

It was early in the morning. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Arthur would usually be up by now, getting ready for the day. But he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed just yet. You were too peaceful of a sight to leave.

The cot you were sharing was small, but you both had learned to make it work. While Arthur was on his back with one hand behind his head and his other arm wrapped securely around you, you were on your side tucked into him. Your head rested on his shoulder and one of your legs was thrown up over his hips.

Arthur kept his eyes on you, watching the way you tried to fight falling back asleep. You woke up some time ago after nearly rolling off of the cot and you were doing your damnedest not to fall asleep again. You wanted to spend as much time with Arthur as you could.

But it seemed like you were losing your battle with sleep. Your eyelids grew heavy and your head began to sink forward on his shoulder. Then you jolted suddenly, sucking in a sharp breath and rubbing your eyes.

Arthur chuckled softly.

“Just go back to sleep, pumpkin.”

“No.” You insisted. “This is one of the few times me and you get to spend time alone without everyone and their brother botherin’ us. M’not sleepin’ for shit.”

He kissed your forehead, his hand at the small of your back tracing circles on the material of your chemise.

“I’m thinkin’ I need to go take a trip to one of those fancy boutiques they got in Saint Denis.” You repositioned your head on his shoulder so you could get a better look at him.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna get at one of them places?” He raised his brows inquisitively. You propped yourself up on one elbow, pulling the sleeve to your chemise up into place on your shoulder.

“Molly says they’ve got really nice clothes there. Says maybe even somethin’ you might like.” You looked down at his chest. Your eyes found a scar that cut across his sternum. You traced the jagged, pale line with your index finger.

“Oh, I doubt one of them boutiques would have somethin’ I’d like.”

“Not for you, silly.” You giggled softly, swatting at his chest. He caught your hand and brought your fingers down to his lips where he could press kisses into the pads of your fingers. “For me to wear for you.”

A sly grin came to his lips.

“Shit, pumpkin.” He kissed your palm and then placed your hand on his chest. “I wouldn’t want ya wearin’ anythin’ like that around camp. If anyone else saw ya in that…. I’d get in a whole hell of a lot of trouble.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’d ever wear anything like that around here.” You shook your head. “I already don’t like how Micah looks at me.”

“I’m just waitin’ for the right time to start swingin.” Arthur muttered, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry.”

“Deserves a lot more if you ask me.” You sighed. “But I don’t want to think about him.”

“I don’t either. Ugly bastard makes me wanna puke.” Arthur scrunched his nose up.

There were a few moments where neither of you said anything. You heard a little bit of movement outside of the tent.

“I wish we could have more time to ourselves.” You moved around on the cot so that you could sit on his lower stomach. “There ain’t even walls here. We can’t talk without worryin’ bout someone hearin’ us unless we talk early like this.”

“I know.” He sighed softly, bringing his hands from the outsides of your thighs to your knees where the hem of your chemise was bunched up. He played with the lacy hem for a few minutes. “Maybe after all this here settles…. Maybe we can take a trip somewhere. Just the two of us. We’ll find somewhere nice to stay for a couple days, somewhere I can spoil you.”

His fingers pushed the hem of your chemise up a few inches, exposing your thighs to the cool morning air.

“I heard…. I heard that there’s this place in Saint Denis. It’s a real nice place.” Arthur’s eyes focused on the locket that rested on your chest. “A little cute hotel. Couples go there when they wanna get away.”

“Ohh.” You smiled, leaning down to kiss the scar on his chin. “You aren’t just wanting to take me away for a couple days. This is a week long thing you’re wantin’ to do, Mr. Morgan.”

His eyes followed you as you sat back, baby blues focused on you as if you were the brightest star in the night sky.

“I was thinkin…. Maybe for our honeymoon.” His voice was low.

The smile fell from your mouth as your lips parted in realization. He wanted to do something special with you, he wanted to treat you to a weekend alone together and away from the hectic life of the gang. But more importantly, he wanted to marry you.

Mistaking your silence for a negative reaction, Arthur shook his head and brought his hand up to rub his face.

“We don’t- We don’t gotta do something like that. It’s just a stupid, silly idea.”

“Arthur, it’s not stupid.” You murmured, pulling his hand from his face. “And it’s not silly. I-I thought…. I just didn’t think you were serious when you told me that.”

Arthur furrowed his brows as he looked at you.

“Lemme sit up a second, pumpkin.”

You shifted your weight to your knees, giving him the opportunity to slip his hips out from underneath you. He sat up, leaning against the chest that rested behind the cot. You sat just above his knees, messing nervously with your hands.

“You didn’t think I was serious when I said I wanted to marry you?”

You looked down at your hand. Your eyes focused on your left ring finger. There was no ring there, therefore it was hard for you to wrap your head around the situation. It didn’t feel real. It felt like a dream.

“Pumpkin, you know the only ring I got on me right now…. It’s the one from Mary.” Arthur’s voice was low as he spoke to you.

When you didn’t say anything, he hooked his index under your chin and tilted your head up so that you had no choice other than to look at him.

“I ain’t proposin’ to you with that ring. The second I get the money and find the right one for you—,”

“Arthur, you know I don’t care about a silly little ring.” You cut him off, shaking your head softly. “I just…. I don’t know. There’s so much goin’ on right now. With-With Dutch and his plans for getting us somewhere where we won’t have to run from Pinkertons and O’Driscolls and Cornwall’s men…. Is now the right time for that?”

Arthur watched you for a few silent moments. Then he let out a little breath and rubbed his scruffy chin. He took your hands in his.

“The way I look at it, we ain’t gettin’ any younger. Those problems, they’ll always be there. We can wait if that’s what you wanna do, pumpkin. We can wait until it’s all over, until we get to Tahiti or Australia or wherever the hell Dutch is taking us. As long as I got you, I’m the luckiest man there is.”

You smiled, eyes leaving his to look down at where your hands met.

“You’re such a sweetheart, Arthur Morgan.” You brushed your thumb across his knuckles.

“Nah. I just know how to sweet talk you.” He leaned forward to kiss you softly. “So? What is it you wanna do?”

“I wanna marry you.” You didn’t hesitate to answer. “What do you want?”

“I want that week away from these bastards here.”

He chuckled.

“Arthur!”

“I’m kiddin’ you.” He leaned in to kiss your lips. “I wanna marry you too, pumpkin. More than you know. I think you’d make a perfect Mrs. Morgan.”

“Hmm. The best?” You began to climb out of his lap.

“Of course. Wouldn’t want any other.” His eyes followed you as you slipped on a pair of boots. “Where are you going?”

“To get us coffee.”

“You’ll be back, won’t you?”

“Of course. Haven’t gotten my ring yet.”

The playful grin on your lips made his heart soar.

Taglist: @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader fluff #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #queenxxxsupreme #oneshot

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lansyuan · 5 years ago

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do you love fics where wei wuxian and lan wangji parent the crap out of lan sizhui? do you want to read accidental baby acquisition fics until your eyes bleed? would you die as your heart slowly turns to mush from the softness of this family? bitch the fuck, me too. here are some of my personal favourite fics of wangxian ft their turnip son a-yuan. its a range of canon divergence, post canon, thirteen years of inquiry, raising a-yuan at the burial mounds au etc - there’ll be something for literally everyone. enjoy!

the kite string and the anchor rope by fleurdeliser (38k+)

When A-Yuan gets sick and Wen Qing doesn't have the supplies she needs to properly treat him, Wei Wuxian can only think of one place to go for help.

a crying shame by thunderwear (16k+)

Lan Wangji gets emotionally blackmailed by a toddler. It somehow fixes everything.

to recollect and long for by wonderlands (22k+) *2/3 works posted at time of posting this rec list.

a 3-part series about best boy lan sizhui and his wonderful dads who love him and each other very much.

forgetting envies, remembering your loving hold by cosmicfuss (3k+)

The first time Zewu-jun plays for him he is five and the man is trying to comfort him, playing soft songs good for soothing children. It works to a degree but he wants his gege, he wants his gege to play his lullaby. Zewu-jun apologizes and tells him that his gege is hurting right now, and needs to be alone to get better.

When he plays the xiao, A-Yuan says, "you're holding it wrong!" When he turns fourteen, he learns to play guqin, and is many years ahead of his classmates in that regard. A large factor in that is how much he has practiced Inquiry. He has grown up hearing snippets from the jingshi, of Wangji attempting to reach a spirit that never answers.

When he's sixteen, he hears a familiar tune played in the forest, he and his fellow juniors battling a stone god. It's been years since he's heard it, and he wonders why this man, Mo Xuanyu, knows it so well.

Or, Lan Sizhui grows up and learns, and remembers.

five times wei wuxian tried to embarrass lan sizhui by blackelement7 (6k+)

(and one time he realized just how badly he'd played himself)

or: In which Wei Wuxian starts a fight but Lan Sizhui (with some meddling from Lan Jingyi) ends it.

inquiry by incendir (10k+)

Sizhui cannot fall asleep for a long, long time that night. He hears the ever-familiar melody again. He thinks perhaps he has memorized it by now.

storge by respira (9k+)

Lan Sizhui is a lake.

as the warren grows in number by kore_fics (3k+)

Before Sizhui could take another step he was surrounded by black and red, loud laughter in his ears and warm fingers running through his hair, messing it up. Palms squished both his cheeks together and Lan Sizhui let out a laugh.

Lan Sizhui was home.

tell some storm* by qurbat (31k+) *the moments with Sizhui are in chapter 2, however I highly recommend reading the whole fic, it’s adorable.

"We were raised as a generation of war, A-Yuan," Xian-gege said to him. "If your generation choses to be one of love - well, I don't think any of us would be opposed to that."

In the aftermath of the events at the Guanyin temple, the cultivation world scrambles to understand their current reality. A man roams the countryside with a string of white in his hair. Another sits on the highest seat of power with a ribbon of red around his forehead. The younger generation turns out to be full of romantics. Nie Huaisang is to blame for everything, always. Jiang Cheng realizes that happiness has been more that 16 years overdue.

Wei Wuxian declares that it's time that bitch pays up.

After a generation of war - much to the consternation of the elders, much to the delight of the young, much to the pleased shock of the subjects of the tale - the world welcomes a love story with open arms.

guess we're not eating leaves today by missingnarwhal (2k+)

Baby A-Yuan has cooked up a feast, but only one lucky gege will actually get to taste it!

Set in an alternate timeline where everything is okay after Wei Ying + Wens started living in the Burial Mounds.

response by aki_no_hikari (12k+)

What if Wei Wuxian hadn't been silent to Lan Wangji's Inquiry?

love, in all its small pieces by ynvel (4k+)

Ah Yuan is brought to the Cloud Recesses and exchanges the sun and its ashes for the clouds. Lan Wangji brings a boy home, calls him his son, and renews the promises he made.

Or: Lan Sizhui is adopted by Lan Wangji and learns about his new life. Lan Wangji in turn learns about hope and living again.

child surprise by ariaste (4k+)

He huffs a sigh. “Fine. Just - let’s just make it the law of surprise, shall we? That’s nice and simple, eh? Leave it up to destiny what will bring us back in balance. Let it drop something of yours into my lap, something small, and we’ll call the debt paid.”

Three debts, three repayments.

there's a lunatic in mo village by bastetcg (11k+)

There's a lunatic in Mo Village! And to Lan Sizhui's surprise, Hanguang-Jun has decided to bring the madman back to the Cloud Recesses! How embarrassing!

A mostly canon-compliant look into Lan Sizhui's thoughts and childhood.

on being a big boy by emberloey (1k+)

“My little A-Yuan,” Dad had said the next morning, kneeling down to A-Yuan’s height with a smile, “all grown up now. Soon you’ll be hunting without your poor old dads.”

“Never!” A-Yuan shook his head and latched onto Father’s leg. He smiled up at Father, who smiled back and nodded his head. “A-Yuan always needs Dad and Father!”

in all these shades of blue (i think we found you) by fleetling (5k+)

5 times Sizhui thought about his father's white robes, and 1 time Lan Wangji wore blue.

(Or: Lan Sizhui had never seen his father in anything other than white robes.)

this is when the feeling sinks in, i don't want to miss you like this (come back, be here) by mischievousmurmurs (6k+)

Just now… the butterflies’ conversation. Where did you learn that from, Ah-Yuan?

Ah-Yuan pats his chest. In here, shushu. I feel it in here. And in here, too, he adds, pointing to his head.

Sizhui has never quite been able to remember nor forget the memory of seeing people who he knows loved each other, loved him, and whom he loved in return.

or - a wangxian story, as told by their adopted son.

yours, mine, and ours by casecous (2k+)

When they have both mostly recovered, and A-Yuan is back to his smiling, playful self, Lan Wangji presents him with a forehead ribbon. A-Yuan’s little fingers bump into Lan Wangji’s thumbs as he traces the cloud motif along it.

“You are Lan now. This is very important,” Lan Wangji tells him and A-Yuan looks away from the ribbon to meet his eyes. “You must not take it off as you please. Only family may touch it.”

A series of wangxian family moments.

innocence by snowberryrose (8k+)

In which Wei WuXian gets to raise A-Yuan.

Canon divergence from episode 31.

to recollect and long for by mme_anxious (4k+)

Lan Xichen is there when his brother becomes a father. Lan Sizhui is there when his father's heart breaks, again. Wei Wuxian is there when his son gets drunk for the first time.

Or, the GusuLan forehead ribbon, in three parts.

our little one by writedeku (6k+)

A-Yuan is here. A-Yuan, who Wei Ying loved so much. A-Yuan, who was taught to laugh just like him. Wangji hugs him to his chest and curls over him, ignoring the way the wounds on his back pull and tear. “I have to take care of you,” he says. “I will not leave you.”

(Or: Lan Wangji comes back from Yiling with a child he does not know how to care for and a black hole in his chest. Somehow, he makes it work.)

gathered herbs & sweet grasses by hansbekhart (19k+)

Later, when he’s older, it’s this that A-Yuan will remember most: the stretch of silence, the two of them both dirty and shaking with fever, as he looked at Brother Rich, and Brother Rich looked back at him.

the sacred homeland by particulate (8k+)

He has many names, and some are mouthfuls of blood.

[Or; a chronology of Sizhui, in which he does not forget.]

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (19k+)

His father in white plays the song late into the night, and when A-Yuan wakes up confused and afraid, the guqin lulls him back to sleep.

Lan Sizhui hears his father play the same song every night for his whole life, and never, ever get an answer.

when he comes home to you by kika988 (2k+)

Home is Cloud Recesses now, and that's a thing Wei Wuxian is still getting used to. He still feels like a guest here, most days, though Lan Wangji has done everything to make him feel at home. He stands out like a sore thumb amongst the serene disciples and flowing white fabric.

Cloud Recesses has been home to Lan Wangji and Sizhui for years. It is their home, where they've built their family.

The thought warms Wei Wuxian even as it sits a little ill with him. He's an intruder here, in their homes, in their lives, the same way he had been in Lotus Pier.

five times people didn’t know sizhui is lan zhan’s son and one time they did by trilliastra (3k+)

“A-Yuan.” He repeats, reaching out for the boy, growing restless when he can’t touch him. “A-Yuan.”

Oh. Lan Xichen closes his eyes as the tears start to fall. Oh, Wangji.

Carefully, Lan Xichen takes the boy and lays him next to his brother on the bed, Wangji holds him protectively against his chest and A-Yuan stops his little cries immediately.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen tries again, running a hand through his brother’s hair softly, “who is he?”

“He’s my son.”

5 times the lan head disciple broke the rules by liji (6k+)

“I am not aware of any rule forbidding falling in love,” Hanguang-Jun said at last. There was a quiet sadness in his eye, like he was watching a scene from far away. The novelty of it gave Sizhui the courage to ask his next question.

“Have you ever been in love, Father?” he asked.

(or, five times that Sizhui broke the Lan sect's rules growing up)

the seasons change (but i love you the same) by kdkdkd (7k+)

"Hanguang-jun!"

When did you stop calling me Bàba, A-Yuan?

Lan Wangji had always promised himself that he would never become a poor father like his own had been.

Unfortunately, it feels like he has failed to keep that promise.

✨ bonus round ✨ uncle jiang cheng and nephew lan sizhui

tintinnabulum by respira (8k+)

A small bell chimes, the sound soft and pleasant like the water crashing against a pier, like low whistles in an empty cave, like a guqin playing a lullaby.

#the untamed #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan sizhui #lan yuan #wen yuan #wangxian family #wangxian fic rec #myficrecs #creations #listen i just really love this family #1k

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helnjk · 4 years ago

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In a Crowd of Thousands - Part 1 // F.W.

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: You never really forget your childhood love. For Princess Y/N of Diagon, hers came in the form of a boy whose dream it was to start a business and support his family. As it goes, life–and her duty to her kingdom–had gotten in the way. She longed to see him again, to see the success she was sure he had achieved. Luckily, fate was on her side.

Warnings: food mention

A/N: yay she’s finally here ! i hope you enjoy part 1, i’d love to hear what you think ! xx

Prologue

At seven years old, Princess Y/N of Diagon loved how limitless the castle seemed to be. In fact, most of what she knew about the world she lived in came from the different parts of the castle.

Flowing dresses and shining jewels belonged in the ballrooms, where many adults often mingled to the soft music of a four piece orchestra. Table manners were strictly followed in the grand dining hall, where the difference of a utensil came in the form of its placement beside the plate. Lessons on etiquette and too many sweets from Minnie were taken in the library, where afternoons were spent basking in the sunlight that filtered through the high windows and highlighted the dust that floated around the room.

But what Y/N loved most about the place she lived and grew up in was that it was limitless in its hiding places.

Today, she had taken a trip to the lower floors of the castle and was immediately taken by the hustle and bustle going on around her. What garnered her interest the most, though, was the tantalizing smell wafting through the hallways. Stumbling through the many bodies that littered the busy space, Y/N made her way towards where she assumed the smell was coming from.

She could feel the curious–and somewhat concerned–gaze of the servants she passed, but there were more important things keeping her attention.

“Bill, love, I’m going to need you to go out and chop some wood for the fires, the stock is cutting a little bit low today. Charlie, you need to go gather some more eggs from the chickens today,” a strong voice called out from one of the rooms.

Y/N’s head peeked through the doorframe to see the organized chaos that she assumed was the kitchens. At the center of it all was a woman with fiercely red hair all tied up on top of her head and an apron wrapped around her waist, giving out orders left and right.

The princess nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized that the woman had stopped talking and was looking in her direction with a raised eyebrow.

“Hello there, darling,” she smiled softly, “You’ve wandered a little far from your afternoon lessons, haven’t you?”

Y/N felt the tips of her ears heat up at being caught, but nonetheless she stepped into the kitchen and said, “I’m sorry. It just smells so good in here, I couldn’t help it.”

The lady beamed with pride at the compliment and beckoned the princess over, “Come, you can help me cook this afternoon. I have reason to believe that I’m making the princess’ favorite meal today.”

Throughout her stay at the kitchens, Princess Y/N learned quite a few things. One, Molly Weasley was quite possibly the best cook in the whole kingdom. Two, she knew that the red hair and pale skin seemed so familiar, and now she could finally put a face to the name whenever Fred would mention his mother. And three, the kitchens would always be a sanctuary for the young princess if she so desired to skip her lessons with Minerva.

Speaking of Y/N’s lovely governess, she appeared at the lower floors of the castle just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon.

“Y/N!” Minerva chastised as she crossed the threshold into the kitchens.

Her young ward froze up at the sound of her voice and she slowly turned around to face the older woman, “Oh, hello Minnie!”

Molly looked on at the interaction with amusement shining in her eyes, but did not interfere. Instead, she continued on with plating the dishes she and Y/N had made, humming a soft tune under her breath.

“Dear child, you have no idea what has been going on in your absence,” Minnie sighed, pulling the young princess into her arms and Y/N thought she heard a tinge of relief in her voice, “The Queen almost sent out a search party for you!”

“Well that would’ve been awfully silly of them to do,” Y/N mused, “Why would I ever leave the castle if it’s full of nice people and good food?”

“Yes, well, that’s exactly what I told her.”

An amused sound escaped Molly’s otherwise unbothered facade and both the princess and her governess turned to look at her.

“I can see now why my dear Freddie’s taken quite a liking to you, princess,” the cook explained, a small smile gracing her gentle face.

“Yes, she is quite a character, isn’t she?” Minnie rolled her eyes playfully.

–

At nine years old, Princess Y/N thought she had a good grasp on the inner workings of her home.

With the help of her best friend and favorite redhead, she discovered secrets and passages in the royal grounds that she never dreamt of finding. Because of her unlikely friendship with him, she knew her way around most of the places she wasn’t really supposed to be making her rounds in.

The morning she was up before her chambermaid arrived, she had the crack in the curtains to thank. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Y/N went to shut the drapes closed just so that she could get some more sleep in, but the sight of outside her window gave her pause. The misty fog that shrouded the grounds and the slowly rising sun peeking through the clouds created such a beautiful sight that the young princess couldn’t help but want to be a part of the beauty.

Making a snap decision, Y/N threw on one of her coats over her nightgown and donned a pair of her sturdier boots before slipping out of her room.

If the palace grounds looked stunning from her bedroom window two floors up, it was even more magical up close. As she trudged through the perfectly trimmed grass and moved between the manicured flower bushes, she admired how the fog seemed to glide with her.

Eventually, she found herself unconsciously walking towards the stables. Ever since her friendship with Fred Weasley began there, it had held a special place in her heart. That morning was no different.

“Hello gorgeous,” she whispered to one of the chestnut haired mares, stroking her nose gently. The creature gave a soft huff as if in reply and the young girl grinned widely.

Some shuffling towards the end of the stables caught her attention and she made her way down the stalls. A smile immediately made its way onto Y/N’s face when she spotted the familiar head of red hair. Fred’s back faced her as he worked on stacking the piles of hay.

“Freddie!” she exclaimed, her feet rushing up to meet him, “I can’t believe you’re up this early! Well, I can’t believe I’m up this early but–”

At the sound of her voice, Fred had spun around quickly to face her. His expression was that of someone who had just been caught misbehaving and it confused the princess. Fred’s eyes looked her up and down and he visibly gulped.

“P-princess!” he stammered. He bent down into a low bow–something Y/N had never seen him do before–and said, “To what do I owe the honor of speaking with you this morning?”

“The honor?” Y/N laughed, “Freddie are you alright? You’re acting weird. You’ve never bowed to me before, you don’t need to! It’s just me.”

“Mother always said to bow in the presence of royalty,” he shrugged.

Before Y/N could reply, Fred simply went back to methodically stacking the bales of hay. She could see the tension in his shoulders as he did so, though, and she was left absolutely puzzled. She tried to think of anything she had done recently for him to be this frigid around her, but her mind came up blank.

“Fred?” she asked tentatively, stepping toward him slowly, “Are you alright? Did I do something?”

“Everything is alright, princess.” He sent a tentative smile over his shoulder.

With a huff, Y/N turned on her heel and made the decision to just spend some more time with the horses. At least they had the courtesy of acting like they enjoyed her company. Granted, she gave them carrots to snack on and they naturally drifted towards food, but that wasn’t the point.

By the time the sun was fully up in the sky and leaking through the small cracks in the walls, Y/N knew it was time to trudge back up into the castle. They were surely looking for her by now. Sighing, she clutched her coat tighter around herself and made one last glance at the redheaded boy who was supposed to be her best friend.

“I’m going now, Freddie,” she called out, hoping to get some sort of reaction from him, “Minnie’ll be looking for me soon and I can’t miss this morning’s lessons.”

“Leaving so soon? When I just got here?”

The shriek that left the princess’ mouth when she saw Fred standing right behind her, by the entrance and simultaneously near the stacks of hay, made him jump. Her head whipped back and forth between the identical redheads at either ends of the stables.

“What in the world is going on?” she demanded.

“Well, it looks like you just met my twin,” Fred shrugged nonchalantly, “His name’s George and I don’t think he’s quite used to being in the presence of a royal.”

“And it never crossed your mind to tell me that you had an identical twin?” Y/N asked, exasperated, “Here I thought you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

The cheeky grin Fred sent her nearly made her roll her eyes, but he draped an arm around her shoulders, squeezed lightly and said, “Maybe I just wanted to be your favorite redhead in the whole kingdom. Didn’t know if I could take sharing you with my less-handsome twin.”

With a playful shove, Y/N replied, “Well too bad for you because Molly is definitely my favorite redhead in the whole kingdom.”

That reply got a reaction from George, who snorted while trying to keep the piles from falling down on him and the princess grinned. She knew he was of a good sort and she would crack his shell eventually.

–

At 11 years old, Princess Y/N had never been so nervous in her life.

She felt as if her feet were physically glued to her place in the middle of the grand hallway as she stared at the doors that led to the library.

There wasn’t anything particularly terrifying about the library. No, the library was a place for her lessons with Minnie and for spending afternoons getting lost in a good book. However, what the princess was about to do was definitely something that sparked a little fear and trepidation in her.

Still, she was going to be late for her morning lessons if she wasted anymore time dawdling in the hallway. With a deep breath, she pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped inside.

Minnie was already seated at one of the center tables, a few pieces of paper spread out in front of her. Her eyes met with Y/N’s and she gave a nod of acknowledgement.

“Good morning, Princess,” she said.

“Morning Minnie.”

Lessons went about as usual, if not slightly tense from the younger girl’s perspective. By the time they had finished for the morning, Y/N was practically shaking in her seat.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been keeping you preoccupied this morning?” Minerva quirked an eyebrow at her.

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” the princess admitted.

“Now dear, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. I think I can tell when something’s on your mind.”

Y/N thought of the way she and Fred had planned everything out meticulously, how decided on exactly what to say to Minnie so that she would say yes. Still, her mind ended up blanking and she silently cursed herself.

“Oh, out with it, Y/N.”

“Please could I go horseback riding with Fred this afternoon,” she said in one breath. Before Minerva could open her mouth to reply, the princess continued, “I’ve been really good with my lessons this week and Fred’s already checked that no one’s riding the horses this afternoon and he said he was going to teach me how to ride without being on side-saddle!”

“Okay dear, take a breath,” her governess chuckled, “As long as you finish your coursework before the sun sets, I’m sure you could go riding with Mr. Weasley.”

At her statement, Minerva was rewarded with a beaming smile and a multitude of ‘thank yous’.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Y/N was a bundle of excited nerves. Being a princess, she had been taught how to ride horses on side saddle, as it was the proper thing to do, but that meant she couldn’t go any faster than a trot. The idea of being able to go racing, feeling the cool breeze on her face and her hair whipping around her, it brought about a giddiness she couldn’t explain.

Fred was already at the stables by the time she arrived, panting and resting her hands on her knees as she caught her breath.

“Well don’t you look excited,” he teased as he fiddled with the saddle of one of the smaller horses.

“Came here as fast as I could, the moment Minnie said I was free to go,” she said breathily.

He replied with a grin and patted the horse after he was finished saddling up, “Well you’re in luck because Poseidon here is all geared up for you. Whenever you’re ready, Princess.”

It took a few tries, but when Y/N was successfully on the horse, she beamed.

Fred stepped back for a moment and she could see his arms were far from relaxed, almost as if he was anticipating an accident. He raised an eyebrow, “Are you alright there or do you need me to stay nearby in case you fall?”

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much,” she rolled her eyes, “Just get on your own horse.”

The redhead sent her a mock salute and skillfully mounted his own horse– a chestnut brown stallion that stood tall and proud. The pair of them began a slow trot around the paddock just so that the princess could get used to things before Fred sent her a wink then nudged his horse to pick up the speed.

Fred often sent her words of encouragement and advice, making sure that she was comfortable with the speed that they were going and that her horse was alright. It warmed her heart to see him so careful and protective. It didn’t take long for her to get the hang of things and convince him that she was fine.

Soon, Y/N was letting out laughs of delight, adrenaline pumping through her veins as Poseidon galloped gracefully through the vast expanse of the estate. Fred let out whoops out joy every once in a while beside her and she felt as if she was on top of the world.

Time passed by in the blink of an eye and soon the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. The orange hue that it left in its wake was stunning and it highlighted the gorgeous curves and dips of the landscape.

They spent a moment appreciating the view, horses side by side. It was the cherry on top of a perfect day, Y/N thought.

–

At 13 years old, Princess Y/N of Diagon truly felt like her world was crashing down around her.

Her hands shook as she sat on the front steps of the palace, elbows pressed against her knees. Eyes locked ahead, she tried to take steadying breaths but all she could focus on was the small dot on the horizon that became increasingly larger as it approached.

A pair of carriages were coming to pick up the Weasleys. Arthur had been offered a baronship–a feat that would provide the family enough funds to live comfortably for the rest of their lives–and today was the day they chose to make the move. The entire family stood at the bottom of the stairs, a line of fiery red hair and excited energy, complete all except for one.

Fred Weasley sat beside his princess, silent and contemplative.

They both knew this moment was coming, and Fred had tried his best to spend the remaining time he had with her. They had spent hours upon hours doing things that they loved to do together.

Afternoons were spent out riding, feeling the sun warm their skin and the breeze cool them again. Late nights were for nicking food from the kitchens and right under Molly’s nose. Minnie had even lessened the amount of time she and the princess had with their lessons, knowing fully well that Y/N needed it.

Still, knowing something was going to happen and actually experiencing it are two separate things. The knowledge that Fred was going to leave her all alone didn’t quell the tightness in Y/N’s chest when the day finally came.

The moment the carriages passed through the gates to the castle, her lip trembled and her breaths shortened.

“Y/N,” Fred mumbled, turning his entire body to face her.

A choked sob escaped the princess and she shook her head.

Before she could reply, the young girl felt the familiar arms of her best friend wrap around her. His scent enveloped her and suddenly her tears were freely falling.

They stayed in that position for a long moment; the princess sniffling and attempting to gather herself while Fred held her. Strong and steady.

“You know how much this means to my family and me,” he whispered, his hands rubbing up and down her back, “I’ll be able to go to school, to finally do what I’ve always dreamed of doing.”

“You’re not allowed to forget about me, alright?” she choked out as her palms went to swipe at the wetness on her cheeks, “When you’re a successful businessman and you’ve travelled the world, you have to remember little old me.”

With a slightly skeptical shake of the head, Fred cracked a small smile and said, “How could I ever forget my favorite princess?”

“Just making sure,” she whispered.

“Now, you have to promise me that you’re going to make your dreams come true too,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“I promise.”

Y/N took a deep breath, eyes closed. She savored the last few moments she had with her best friend, and she squeezed him tightly before moving out of his grasp.

“I love you loads, Freddie,” she said.

“You know I love you too, Princess,” he grinned back at her.

It wasn’t long before Molly was calling for Fred.

With one last squeeze of the hand, Fred stood. “We’ll find each other again, Y/N. I’ll make sure of it.”

All the Weasleys turned to face their Princess, some sending radiant smiles and others waving enthusiastically at her. She couldn’t help but smile and wave back, her eyes drifting towards her favorite redhead as he descended the steps.

As the family began to sort themselves into the carriages, Fred looked back at his best friend one last time and sent her his signature charming smile. She gave him a small wave and then he was out of her sight.

Y/N’s eyes stayed locked on the pair of carriages until they disappeared past the horizon. She remained seated on the steps of the palace until the sun had set and someone had come to tell her that supper was ready.

That night, Y/N fell asleep with the feeling of dried tears on her skin and Minnie’s hands brushing through her hair.

Series Taglist: @prismarts @snoopydoop1 @the-romanian-is-bae @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @manuosorioh

General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @lumos-barnes @cherryweasleys @writingsomewrongs @the-unmanaged-mischief @mrzweasley @inglourious-imagines @pr3ttysw33t @amrtxntias @miraclesoflove

Weasley twins taglist: @pineapplesandpinas @papapapadumb @a-castle-of--glass @hey-there-angels @leovaldez37 @pinkypurplemagic @werewolfslut @surprizeshawtyy @oldschoolkiddo @gcdricreads @turtletaylor98 @secret-obsessions @weaslxyss @serendiipty @nojamsonmytoast @famdomhideout @georgeweasley19 @asuperconfusedgirl @loonylovegood13 @lumielikesbooks @nanahachikyuu @freds-slut @theweasleytwinsgirl @ghost3rr @littlemisswitt @astoria-malfcy @weasleysprofessionalhoe @freddie-weaselbee @daydreamgirl8 @jubilee-the-flying-dragon-pirate

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#fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fics #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley au #weasleyclaw iacot #tw food mention

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write-ur-wrongs · 4 years ago

Text

Of Monsters and Men (pt. 1)

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier travel to a small seaside village after being hired to take care of a monster that has been terrorizing the villagers for months. However when they arrive, Geralt finds that the monster in question isn’t so easy to kill.

A/N: This was getting to be quite lengthy, so I decided to split it into parts. This is the story I wanted to write when I first started watching the Witcher on Netflix and I am nervous and excited to finally be sharing it here!! Like with all my fics, I try to keep my Y/N has physically non-descript as possible, she/her and vibe are the only descriptors. I’ve also not proof-read but will edit errors as I see them post post lol. I hope y’all enjoy this!! Your feedback is always welcome :’)

this is approx. 2200 words and is largely setting the scene. I expect this to story to be told in no more than 3 parts.

_________________________

When Geralt and Jaskier rode up to the quiet coastal village, they were struck by how calm and peaceful it was. The sound of waves lapping against the rocky shoreline, the rhythmic bumping of boats against the docks, and the soft clatter of driftwood windchimes melted together to create an atmosphere that soothed Jaskier to his core. He found himself gaping at the sights that surrounded him in wonder; truly taken by the way setting sun cast a golden glow on everything and painted the cloud-laced sky in rich hues of pink and orange.

“This place…” he sighed theatrically, waving his arms around, “is wonderful! Geralt are you not moved by the sight of it all? Does your soul not sing out! Oh, Geralt! Wow!”

The witcher only rolled his eyes at his friend’s dramatics. Jaskier was always so blown away by the simplest things and it both amused and annoyed Geralt. Yes, the sky and the sea were beautiful sights, but more importantly, they were merciless vehicles of danger, death, and destruction; and Geralt knew better than to romanticize things that were, at their core, dangerous.

Sensing the bard’s eyes on him, Geralt gave him a hum of acknowledgement hoping it would be enough to satisfy Jaskier’s need for collective appreciation. It was, as he dreaded, insufficient.

“Come now, Geralt!” he enthused, “take that stick out your arse for a moment and appreciate the sights and sounds of this charming inlet! Listen to the sea! The chimes, Geralt! Listen to how the wind tickles the –”

“For fucks sake, Jaskier! It’s a fucking port city just like any other. This place is one bad storm away from being wiped out by that scenic sea of yours!”

“Yeesh,” Jaskier said letting out a low whistle. “Was it the stick in the arse bit? Too far?”

“Jask-”

“- because look, you are very stoic but – and I mean this as a compliment Geralt, so don’t get your leather in a –”

“Jaskier!” Geralt interrupted gruffly as he dismounted Roach with a huff. “Will you please shut up! Let’s just find the stables and the inn and get this over with.” Without waiting for Jaskier to catch up to him, he led his mare deeper into town.

Jaskier, refusing to let Geralt’s gruff exterior get him down, dismounted gracefully and lightly jogged to meet up with him, his lute clacking loudly against his back as he ran.

“Remind me again what dreadful little creature brings us out to this enchanting harbor?” he asked, still jogging a little to keep up with the witcher’s long strides.

“Don’t know yet.”

“Oh, ho-ho! A mystery? Always makes for a good song. What do we know so far?”

Geralt stopped and turned slightly towards the bard before speaking.

“Apparently a creature has been killing and dismembering men in town. They are being killed at all hours, bodies found in town, at sea, or out in the surrounding forests. Seems nowhere is safe.” Geralt let his cat-like eyes linger on the bard’s horrified expression for a moment before turning back and keeping on the path into town, shaking his head at Jaskier’s queasiness.

“Yeesh – Geralt! You’re not serious! Why would you bring me with you!?” Jaskier picked up the pace, suddenly wanting to be closer to his friend.

“You invited yourself,” Geralt said, trying to contain his smile, “as always.”

“Of course, I invited myself! You’re far to proud to admit you’d miss me.” Jaskier retorted. “Let’s get these horses to the stables, get rooms, and find food so that you can sort this out as quickly as inhumanly possible,” he said, speaking quickly and with a light waver, trying to pretend the quaint seaside village around him didn’t now leave him chilled to the bone.

“Hmm,” Geralt chuckled, happy to have managed to scare the bard into silence, at least for the time being.

The local pub was busier than Jaskier had expected when they rode into town. Seems the reason the village was so peaceful upon arrival was because everyone had already made their way to the bar. Fortunately, he’d managed to nab them a table by the stone fireplace; after a day of riding alongside the sea, Jaskier was desperate for a cold ale and a warm fire.

“Alrighty then, Geralt,” Jaskier said, holding his hands up to the hearth, “what have we got so far?”

“Not much,” he replied, tearing apart the loaf of bread a barmaid had brought over moments prior, “a couple people stopped me at the inn to ask me if I was here to kill the beast, but they didn’t have any information to offer besides the fact that it was a constant threat.”

“Well, maybe you’ll have more luck here – I mean look around, you’d think the whole town’s come to drink!”

“Port cities, Jask,” Geralt said, letting his gaze scan the room slowly, “the people here either spend their days at the mercy of the sea or waiting for their loved ones to come home. You drink for sorrow and for hope of a bright tomorrow.”

“That was poetic as fuck, Geralt! My influence?” he teased, shooting the witcher a cheeky grin, who merely grunted distractedly in reply.

Now ignoring his still-talking friend, Geralt’s eyes had landed on the two women working behind the bar. One was talking excitedly and kept casting quick glances toward the bard, blushing brightly when she caught his eye, while the other was watching Geralt with inquisitive eyes.

“… I tell you Geralt the more you allow yourself to – oh! Speaking of which, here come a few now!” Jaskier flourished, winking enthusiastically at the blushing barmaid who was making her way towards them sheepishly.

Geralt sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes, already tired of the flirting he was about to witness. To his surprise and great pleasure, Jaskier got up and met her halfway, leaving him in peace with his thoughts.

Having brought his attention back down to the bread before him, Geralt didn’t notice that he had company until she was right in front of him. Sensing her presence, he shot his gaze up quickly, and found her staring at his wolf medallion with a quirked brow.

“Forgive me,” she started, her deep, velvet-like voice washing over Geralt like morning sun after a cold night, “but you’re… a witcher?”

“I am,” he replied, giving her a crooked smile, his own voice, low and gravely and smooth, not going unnoticed by the woman before him. “Geralt, of Rivia.”

“Oh fuck,” she said, with a breathy sort of laugh, “so you’re not a witcher, you’re the Witcher then, aren’t you?”

Geralt let out a low and modest grunt, shaking his head at the comment. He thought himself immune to the scrutiny and awe that came with being the White Wolf, having carried the title for so long, but there was something about the way she was looking at him that left him shy.

“I’m,” he faltered needing to stop to clear his throat, having made the mistake to look her in the eyes, “just a witcher. Really.”

“Well, they don’t send you out for just anything, do they? For you to be out here in our little hamlet…” she squinted at him with a small tilt of her head, “we must be under some kind of threat. Should I be worried?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me, –” he stopped, waiting for her to introduce herself.

“Y/N,” she replied quickly, offering Geralt a warm smile despite the fact that she’d just crossed her arms, “and I mean we do get the odd ruffian coming through town. They always make a mess of things, don’t they? Beyond that, well, I suppose alcohol does breed violence in some,” she gave a light, one shouldered shrug, “but that’s not the kind of crime that would reach your ears.”

Geralt hummed thoughtfully, taking his time to consider Y/N’s words. She seemed almost too friendly, and there was something about her that both drew him in and had him putting up his guard.

“A monster has been picking the men of the village off one by one.” Leaning back into his chair to put some distance between them. “I’m surprised you wouldn’t be aware, considering,” he nodded towards the bar, “your job here.”

“Meaning what?” she retorted, wearing a playful smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Only that you must hear a lot,” he gestured vaguely to the crowd surrounding them, “and see a lot, doing what you do. I would have expected that the disappearance and dismemberment of men in town would be something of note.”

“Well,” Y’N tsked, “I’m sorry to say that you’ve been brought out here on something of a fool’s errand. There’s no monster here; the tale of disappearing men has been told here for months. It started with a woman, too embarrassed to admit that the man who impregnated her left her overnight, telling everyone that a creature from the forest killed him. From there the story grew wilder with every retelling.”

“Hm,” Geralt hummed, watching Y/N carefully with narrow eyes, “I was told dismembered body parts were turning up, consistently, after each disappearance, and that they were being identified as belonging to the latest victim. Besides, I was hired to come here. Why would someone pay me coin to rid a town of ghost?”

“People struck by tragedy will claim to see many things, Sir Geralt,” she replied softly, “not all of them will be true. A dead fish floating at sea, a creature mauled by wolves by the roads, rotten meats abandoned by vendors…” she shrugged, “the mind will twist the truth in order to bring comfort. Who hired you?”

She added that last question quickly, and Geralt could tell it was calculated. Sensing this, he only replied with a quirked brow and a tilt of his head.

Y/N betrayed no sense of frustration when she realized the Witcher wasn’t going to elaborate. Instead, her eyes softened, and she smiled at Geralt with what he perceived as pity.

“Look, the truth is that there is no monster here. Isn’t that right Thalia?”

“Sorry, what?” Thalia, who had just walked back over the Geralt’s table with a tray of ales in her hands, was breathlessly giggling at something Jaskier had whispered in her ear. As she and Jaskier placed four ales on the table, Y/N took a seat across from the Witcher and quickly explained got the two up to speed.

“Oh goodness, that! I can not believe our town’s little lore made it to your ears, Sir Geralt!” She said with wide eyes as she snuggled up next to Jaskier, clinking her tankard with his before taking a generous sip.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jaskier coughed on his ale, “you’re telling me there’s no monster here? That we might actually be able to enjoy a little rest and relaxation here without any horrible monster-killing business? Geralt this is good news!” he exclaimed, smacking his free hand on the table for emphasis.

Geralt only growled out a hum in response, never taking his eyes off Y/N.

“I’ll admit,” Thalia continued, seemingly unaware of the tension between the Witcher and her friend, “it’s scary to think about – you know, murder – but when you actually think about who disappears, it’s not difficult to see the truth.”

At this, Geralt turned his fierce gaze away from Y/N. “What do you mean, ‘who disappears’?”

“O-only that the men who leave aren’t really the type that anyone would miss.” She replied, stuttering a little against her best efforts to not recoil at Geralt’s inhuman eye-contact. “They were mean, violent types. The kind of man that would get crueler the more he drank. Just, awful, evil men, right Y/N?”

Y/N nodded quickly in agreement, taking a slow sip of her ale. “Good riddance.”

“Exactly!” Thalia agreed, clinking her glass to Y/N’s.

“Hell, I’ll drink to that,” Jaskier laughed, before picking his lute up off the floor. “What do you say ladies, a song?”

Thalia cheered loudly and encouraged the rest of the patrons to listen to the bard, letting them all know that he was in fact, the one who traveled with the great White Wolf. Jaskier was positively floating from the adoration as he danced around the pub, pulling cheers and applause after every song.

All the while, Geralt never took his eyes off of Y/N, who had retreated back to the bar after finishing her drink.

Geralt wasn’t sure what to believe. He had a strange feeling about this place from the moment he and the bard arrived, and it frustrated him to no end that even after hours in town, he was no closer to understanding the source of his discomfort. One thing was for certain, something about the story he heard here tonight did not add up, and he definitely didn’t trust its source.

Y/N was standing behind the bar washing glasses, but she wasn’t focused on the task at hand. Instead, her eyes were trained on the crowd before her. Geralt watched her as she scanned the pub with calm, slow-moving eyes that jumped from patron to patron.

The witcher was distracted for a moment when Jaskier sauntered into his sightline, singing a loud chorus of Toss a Coin to Your Witcher. Despite himself, Geralt couldn’t help but smile at the bard, whose face was flushed from the ales and the exertion.

However, as Geralt watched Jaskier twirl across the crowded pub, something in his peripheral vision made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Y/N had turned he head and was staring right at him with a pair of pitch-black eyes.

Like a shot, Geralt turned his gaze to the woman behind the bar – his heart beating loudly in his ears – only to find her smiling warmly at him, her eyes their normal shade.

Instinctively, Geralt brought his hand up to his wolf-head medallion, hoping it would signal the presence of some supernatural evil. But he felt nothing.

He didn’t know what she was, but she was not human.

#the witcher fanfiction #the witcher x reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher fandom #fanfiction requests #fanfiction #fanfic #the witcher series #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #witcher fic #witcher fanfiction #witcher x reader #toss a coin to your witcher #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #geralt x reader #Jaskier

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sin-of-sloth-my-ass · 4 years ago

Text

The Fallen Fairy Pt. 1

A/N: I noticed how inactive the Tumblr side of this fandom is 🤔 If you have any request don't hesitate to ask!

Previous ~ Next

warnings: spoilers

genre: neutral? Bit of Angst?

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"What ya looking at?" Your curious eyes peeked over King's shoulder as you followed his gaze that was directed at Diane and Howzer.

King let out a scream by your sudden appearance behind me, making everyone turn to look at you two curiously, but he waved it off "don't scare me like that, (Y/N)"

"It's been a while since I've been able to scare you, hasn't it" you smiled mischievously, but your words held a lot more meaning than just playfulness. The guilt of that ominous day is something the Fairy King will have to bear to his grave. Your once golden like wings were gone never to be seen again. It was a time never to be spoken of as it was a dreadful day to the both of you.

"Say, my king, you sure you're the sin of sloth? You act more like the sin of envy in my eyes" you mused as you lean your chin in your hands, all while a playful smile was playing on your lips.

Kings scoffed "I told you not to call me that any more. I'm not fit to be a king."

"And I'm not fit to be a fairy any more, but here we are" you replied nonchalantly as you turned in your seat to watch Meliodas and Ban intoxicating themselves with the golden liquid humans couldn't resist.

"What about you? I've seen you staring at Ban a couple of times" He asked as he was the one following your gaze this time.

Unbeknownst to King, it wasn't Ban you had been staring at, but the man opposite of him that held so much resemblance to your past lover. It almost felt like a cruel joke "it's not that deep, besides he's still not over Elaine, so I don't think I have that much of a chance."

"Oi, Tinkerbell" Meliodas called, snapping you out of your haze. Due to your bewildered eyes, a smirk grew on his face as you reminded him of a kid that got caught doing something it shouldn't do.

"What do you want devil's child" you shot back, regaining composure and copying the same smug look he had.

"(Y/N)" King gasped at your response "he's the captain! Don't go around and throw names out like that"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. It's all a joke, right Meliodas?" you defended yourself, but the mischievous look in your eyes didn't go unnoticed by the said boy.

"It's alright King. I know she's just joking" he reassured him. "Anyway, I think the customers could use another round"

"Go ask Elizabeth" you waved him off.

"She's at the capitol" he replied. You grith your teeth "what about Gowther?"

"He went with Merlin somewhere" he informed, amused by your growing irritation "you know our deal. When those two aren't around, you're the one serving the customers"

"Fine" you breathed as you head up from your seat and went behind the bar to give everyone their respective drinks.

"Thank you! What about the uniform, though?" He teased to which you rolled your eyes "don't push it"

To your luck, Elizabeth soon enough arrived, letting you escape the tedious deal you made with the captain of the Seven Deadly Sins.

"Diane!! Let's go train!"

You ran outside the boarhead before Meliodas could come up with a way to rope you into working longer.

You did your best to keep up with Diane's long strolls, cursing in your mind how easier it would've been if you still had your wings.

Once you were deep in the forest and excluded enough from any living creature, you took your fighting stance.

"You know you could always ask Merlin to take a look at your wings. Maybe she finds a way to fix them" Diane said as you did your best to dodge her Golems.

"Mhm, I know. I don't want too, though. It's a reminder to myself of how I failed my kind and how I should work every day to become stronger." You explained as you slashed one of the stone creations with your katana, making it crumble to the floor. You quickly dodged as the other was already coming at you with its fist.

Diane frowned at your answer "you know it wasn't your fault, right?"

"They trusted me. I was their number one defence line and I failed them. I was the royal guard. The one that should protect the Fairy King. How can I possibly be fit for that role when I couldn't even protect my friends? It should've been only me that got killed that day, not them." You mumbled the last part. Diane's creations collapsed as you kicked it with all your force against a tree. You took in the giants emotional state and knew continuing to train was not an option. "Let's go back, shall we?"

By the time you got back, the night had fallen over Britannia. The boardhead was filled with intoxicated people passed out all over the place.

You head up to the roof to look out on the capital that had a few lights brimming in the otherwise dark city.

"I see you made Diane upset," Meliodas said as he joined you and handed you a bottle of ale which you gratefully accepted.

"She asked me why I didn't go to Merlin to see if she could get my wings back" you replied as you took a swig of the toxic liquid.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," he said.

"It's the second time I let my people down" you sighed "if death is not the answer, I guess this is the second-best thing"

"How do you feel about the seal?" He asked as he observed your reaction quietly.

You pressed your lips together as you let his questions sink in "I know it's bad news but at the same time... I haven't seen him in 3000 years"

"I know" he sighed, understanding your conflicted feelings "I hope you understand where I'm coming when I say I'm gonna do everything in my power to prevent them from breaking loose"

"Yeah... I know" you hugged your knees while placing your chin on them "when are you gonna tell them"

"When the time is right" he answered truthfully "what about you? King doesn't know how old you really are, does he?"

"He never asked" you shrugged.

"Would you tell him?" "I don't see why I wouldn't"

"Would you also tell King about him?" You stayed silent at that question, unsure whether it would benefit anyone if you were to tell him. "It's getting late, don't stay up too late."

With that Meliodas left, soon to return as you always had a chat in the midst of the night, while everyone is sound asleep around you

The upcoming sun awoke you from your place on the roof of the boarhead. You lazily sat up and admired the rose gold basked city that was slowly waking up as well.

"Hey Ban, planning on sneaking out without telling anyone?" You heard your king's voice, snapping you out of your dreamy haze.

You observed the two for a little until Ban said something that caught you off guard "I'm going back to the Fairy King's Forest"

It was hard to see their faces from up to where you were seated, but you knew King held a shocked face, mimicking yours.

Your eyes trailed them until you could no longer see them, making you swallow hard as you realized the Fairy King didn't even bother to get you "hypocrite"

You hopped off the roof and went back inside the bar, starting to clean up the mess everyone made the night before.

"Are you sick?" Meliodas asked when he walked downstairs to see who was making all that noise.

"King and Ban left to go to the Fairy King's Forest" you said, not sparing him a second glance.

"How come you didn't go? I thought you went everywhere King went" he asked as he helped you grab a couple of empty bottles.

"He clearly didn't want me there, after all, he left without saying anything." You mumbled "Diane's gonna be heartbroken"

"(Y/N)" Meliodas narrowed his eyes at you. For all those decennia he has known you, he knew something had to be terribly wrong for you not be by the Fairy King's side "I'm no longer a fairy, now am I? Fairies have wings, I don't"

"Neither has King" the captain of the seven deadly sins pointed out.

"He can still grow them. Mine are gone forever" you shot back. "Besides I'm very certain the forest wouldn't give me a third chance. It would be gut-wrenching knowing I could never return there"

"So you rather bask in the unknown?" You silently continuing to clean the used glasses was a sign for him to drop the subject "welp, it can't be helped. Guess you'll be the substitute for King"

"I could never replace my king" you shook your head.

"Your loyalty after all these hundreds of years still ceases to amaze me" he chuckled, making you smile a little as well.

You decided to stay back at the boarhead while the others went to the capital for the ceremony. It was a quiet day as you presumed most of the people of Britannia were at the ceremony to praise the Seven Deadly Sins.

You headed up to your usual spot on top of the boarhead and stared off in the distance and wondered when everything had become such a mess.

It crossed your mind that if Gloxinia was still here he'd probably be ashamed of how weak you've become. He'd probably turn his head at how you let the humans cut off your wings. After all, he warned you more times than you could count that humans should not be trusted. Yet here you were handing them alcohol in return for some golden coins. He'd be rolling in his grave if he'd caught wind of what you were doing right now.

A sudden tremor shook you literally out of your thought process and that's when you felt him. There was no mistake. Even after 3000 years, it still felt so familiar to you.

It didn't take long before Meliodas appeared back at the boarhead. "You felt it too, didn't you"

"Yes," you replied as looked at the Captain of the Seven Deadly Sins. His head hung low while an unease aura clouded his whole body "they're here"

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pumpkinov · 3 years ago

Text

Where the Dust Settles

I will probably move this to Ao3 when I have a way more solid idea of my plot, but for now, it goes here. Mostly so I don’t lose it.

Portia Collins, the sole survivor of Vault 111 has lost more than most. With the Institute defeated, she sets her sights to the next big jobs - unification of the Commonwealth wastelands and the large warship docked at the Boston Airport. More work for the General of the Minutemen, who is finding herself increasingly alone as her companions move on with their lives. John Hancock, the Ghoul Mayor of Goodneighbour is struggling to find his footing in the new political climate of the Commonwealth, and is finding a surprisingly vocal supporter in his local Minuteman General.

Chapter 1. Why do you only call me when you’re high?

Portia observed the Third Rail with a headache forming. Her and Preston had arrived around midday, greeted by Fahrenheit. The relationship forming between the Commonwealth Minuteman and the settlement of Goodneighbour was a point of pride for the General. They were welcomed warmly, and their brief meeting with the Ghoul Mayor who ran the town had been pleasant, if frustratingly shortlived. But as the weather soured, most of the town had gathered in the bar. And it was cramped.

Ensuring that Preston was indeed distracted by Magnolia, Portia slid a cigarette out of a pack someone left on the table and headed to the door, abandoning her coat for the sake of an unobserved getaway. She nodded at Ham as she headed up the stairs, and slipped out the door.

She instantly regretted leaving her coat behind, the wind was frigid and there were clumps of watery snow on the ground. She could see her breath as she dug around in her pockets for a lighter. She came up empty, and was about to head back inside, defeated, when a weight hit the wall next to her. Hancock twisted the wheel of his lighter and held it in front of her, rolling his cigarette between his thin lips as Portia drew the smoke into her lungs.

He lit his cigarette, and flicked the lighter closed, sliding it into his jacket in a movement so fluid it had to be practiced. They smoked in companionable silence for a moment, Portia leaning her head against the brick wall. She eventually rolled her head to the side, fixing her eyes on her silent companion. His face in the portrait was familiar now, dark eyes, noseless and scarred.

“I wish you’d change your mind about joining us in Diamond City.” She commented. “You’re the only leader of a settlement not coming. And the Minutemen could use you.”

He slid her a look, a smirk twisting across his face, “There’s not enough caps in the whole Commonwealth that would convince me to go inside the Great Green Jewel again.”

“Nothing could convince you?”

His eyes slid down her frame, and the smirk widened “I’m sure something could.”

Portia rolled her eyes, and elbowed him. He laughed roughly, and took another deep drag of his cigarette. “Besides Sunshine, I’ve already built my personality around one hat. I don’t think even a ghoul with my kind of charisma could make those minuteman specials work.”

Portia smiled around her cigarette for a moment, “Don’t let Preston hear you say that. He’s very proud of his hat.”

“And yet the General doesn’t wear one.” Hancock breathed a plume of smoke out, tendrils escaping through his exposed naval cavity.

Portia didn’t reply, just smiled and watched a handful of small snowflakes begin to fall around the streetlight. Another freezing night.

“Maybe it’s for the best that you don’t come to this meeting in Diamond City.” She said, flexing the fingers that weren’t clamped around her cigarette. Her fingertips were turning red. “I’ve seen your diplomacy in action, Mayor. I’ve stepped over the dead body of your diplomacy.”

He laughed deep in his throat at the comment. “Don’t flatter yourself General, Finn was on thin fucking ice before he decided to shake you down. I didn’t stab a man for a woman I’d just met.” He finally turned his head to meet her gaze, his black eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, smugly. “I’d strongly consider stabbing a man for you now, given the right incentives.”

Portia took her final drag of her cigarette, and dropped it onto the ground, crushing it beneath her heel. She looked back at Hancock, and breathed her final lung full of smoke out.

“Let me guess, Mayor Hancock, would that incentive happen to be wildly inappropriate?”

His eyes flashed. “Not wildly. Perhaps not for polite company.”

Portia rolled her eyes again, and stuffed both her hands under her armpits. She glanced back at the metal door leading into the Third Rail. She really wasn’t ready to return back to that crowd yet. Hancock seemed to sense her hesitation, he tucked his hand back into his jacket and produced another cigarette. She accepted it, stamping her feet a little to get warm.

“Is there any polite company in Goodneighbour?” She busied herself with lighting the cigarette with Hancock’s proffered lighter, waiting for his usual flirtatious quip. Instead, when she looked up to return his lighter, she saw him watching as Daisy appeared around the corner, wrapped in a scarf and jacket.

“There’s some.” He said quietly. Portia hummed in agreement, waving as Daisy approached.

“Quittin’ time?” Hancock asked her, offering Daisy his arm. “Would you do me the honour of letting me buy you a drink?”

“John Hancock I’ve told you a million times, I’m too old for you.” Daisy laughed. He groaned in response, placing his free hand across his heart, closing his eyes dramatically.

“And I’ll keep asking, let a ghoul dream!” He pitched his cigarette butt and opened the door for her with a flourish, then glanced back up at Portia. “Same again?”

“Mayor Hancock I told you, we can’t be out late, Preston and I are due in Diamond City early in the morning.”

He grinned at her. “So, same again?”

“Hancock!” Portia smiled despite herself. “This happens every time! I’ll take a bourbon and Nuka.”

“For Pete’s sake Hancock!” Ham called, “In or out man, the wind is friggin’ freezing!”

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses!” Hancock called through the door, before looking back at her.

The playful, flirtatious grin he usually held was gone. His face was serious, his eyes still. Portia felt her stomach lurch up as she recognised the look as straight lust. She stared back at him, heart all of a sudden pounding in her throat. She snaked her tongue out, to wet her all of a sudden dry lips. Hancock’s gaze dropped to her lips for a moment, before catching himself. He pulled the smirk back, but his eyes kept their intensity.

“I’ll give you a second alone.” He rasped, “feels like you might not get much of that these days, General.”

Despite the heat rising from her core, Portia grabbed ahold of herself, and smiled. “Bourbon and Nuka, remember?”

Hancock nodded and closed to the door, leaving her to the whirling wind, and her thoughts.

She crushed the half finished cigarette beneath her heel and headed back into the crowded bar, finally defeated by the snow now lightly falling. Preston was at the bar, talking animatedly with Magnolia. The place was crowded, and she had to squish herself past several people. They all turned and stared at her as she passed, and the heat was rising in her face again. Portia never quite felt comfortable in crowds like this. She finally reached Preston, who turned and beamed at her. “General, did you need a drink?”

“No, thank you, I think the Mayor -” She was interrupted as Whitechapel Charlie slid a glass of bourbon and nuka in front of her. “Oh, thank you.” She wrapped her fingers around the glass, and swirled the liquid around.

“I’m just going to freshen up” Magnolia drawled, draping an arm across Preston’s shoulder’s as she rose from her stool. “Don’t go anywhere.” She drifted off in a cloud of perfume, leaving a rather dazed minuteman in her wake.

“You still in there Garvey?” Portia smiled against the glass as she sipped her drink. God bourbon was so sweet. She didn’t really know why she drank it.

He smiled rather bashfully, shaking his head. “She’s really one hell of a woman.”

“Yeah, she has that effect on people,’ Portia dropped her hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to turn in after I finish this - do you need anything else before I go?”

“You won’t stay until she finishes singing?”

“No, I’m beat.” She took another mouthful, just trying to get rid of it now. “But you stay out, just don’t be too hungover for our council meeting tomorrow.”

He grinned at her, “you really don’t trust me, do you General?”

“Preston,” Portia fixed her eyes on her friend, raising an eyebrow, “I trust you to the ends of the earth. I would walk through fire for you. I would, and have, trusted you with my life. But I do not trust you not to get carried away drinking with a pretty woman.”

He laughed out loud at that, wrapping his hand around the neck of his beer bottle as he threw his head back. “Honestly, probably a wise choice.” His eyes sparkled a little under the light. There was a joy she hadn’t seen on his face … ever. Preston had been by her side every step of the way, from the day she thawed out to now. He’d helped her find her son, and destroy her son. He’d helped her mourn her husband, and helped her survive in this new, strange world. Portia would sooner have set herself on fire than quash the happy, slightly drunken glow he was developing across his face.

“Have fun, Preston.” She squeezed his shoulder and moved away, taking a large mouthful and wincing as the far too sweet alcohol burned her tongue. God, why did she always ask for Bourbon, she fucking hated bourbon.

She reached the coat racks at the back of the bar, and started looking for her coat. She drained the last swallow of her glass, and without looking plonked it down on the nearest table.

“Sneaking out without saying goodbye, General?” A familiar rasp came from her left. Portia bit her lip, and pulled her attention away from the overstacked rack of coats. “As if anyone could leave without saying goodbye to you, Mayor.” Hancock was leaning against a chair, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, grinning like he always did. “Do you need another drink?”

“No, thank you but I have to go.” She finally spotted her coat, and yanked it out of the tangled mass of fabric. She slipped it on over her shirt, and turned to face him. “Thank you, though. For meeting us, and hearing us out.”

His eyes softened a little. “I appreciate the invitation General. What you and the Minutemen are doing is impressive, joining the Commonwealth together like this. But I can’t go back there.”

Portia tightened her jacket around her, as Hancock swallowed the last of his drink and straightened up. “Come on, I’ll walk to you to the Rexford.”

“You don’t have to -”

He cut her off, offering her his arm. “It’s part of the Goodneighbour hospitality.”

The soft snow was swirling in the wind now, and Portia braced herself against the chill. It seemed to have no effect on Hancock, whose arm she clung to. He was so warm, even through the fabric of his jacket. Portia had to admit it was pleasant - the square was completely empty except for two of the neighbourhood watch, who nodded at them as they passed. The fresh air was refreshing after the stale smoke and beer they’d been breathing at the Third Rail. They reached the doors of the Rexford, and Portia turned to face him.

“Last chance, Mayor.” She brushed the hair out of her eyes as the wind whipped his jacket around his legs. “Are you sure you won’t come with Preston and I to Diamond City for this meeting? Every settlement group is sending a representative. It’s important.”

The wind had picked up now, and she had to lean in closer to him to hear his response.

“General, you really keep pushing this. Are you sure you don’t just want my company?”

She rolled her eyes, a smile bubbling to the surface despite her annoyance. “Hancock, really. Goodneighbour deserves a voice. Your people deserve a voice. You deserve to be there. If you’re not there, then Goodneighbour; your people? They stay disconnected from the rest of the Commonwealth.”

He fixed his eyes on her for a moment. “You really want to have me in Diamond City?”

She touched one of the buttons on his jacket, just needing a moment without his strange, black eyes boring into her. “It’s only fair, after everything.”

He shifted slightly closer, and her skin prickled. “OK, fine. I’ll come.”

She glanced up at him, a smile breaking across her face. “Excellent-”

“But,” he interrupted, his face still serious. “I will not be coming as part of your Minutemen. I respect your organisation General, but Goodneighbour is for the people, by the people, and I will not come shackled to your cowboy hats and holier-than-thou ideologies.”

She blinked, a little taken aback at the roughness under his usual rasp. “Of course, Mayor. The only shackles will be ones you attach yourself.”

A smile spread across his face at that comment, and Portia cursed herself. She shouldn’t have said that. It was just very hard not to flirt with him, despite his radiation ravaged face.

“I feel like the Minutemen and I may have very different ideas on the best use of shackles,” he murmured, now reaching a hand up to brush against the fingers she’d left on his button. His hands were so warm, and she resisted the urge to melt into his touch.

“Sorry to disappoint Mayor, but I leave the shackling to Preston.” She desperately tried to wheel it in, the air was too intimate now.

He was still looking at her, his eyes hungry. He moved to kiss her, and Portia put a hand against his chest. He stopped, still smiling down at her. The heat coming from him was insane, her fingers spread against his chest.

“Mayor, I don’t mix business with, well, thirty seconds of staring at the ceiling.”

He tilted his head back and laughed at this, heartily. It eventually turned into a cough which took a few seconds to get under control. When he finally regained composure and looked back down at her, there were tears in his eyes. “Oh, Christ Sunshine.” His tone was of amusement, he seemed completely unfazed at her rejection. “I only do business with pleasure. As for ceiling staring, it’s not something I’ve personally experienced, but I’m sure I could find some referrals if you’re concerned.” He wrapped his hand around her wrist, lifted it to his mouth and pressed his lips against the back of her hand; before stepping away from her. The cold wind rushed in to fill the spot where he’d stood, and Portia felt a chill wrap across her.

“Goodnight, General.” Hancock slid a cigarette into his mouth, and turned around. Portia called out to him as he disappeared towards the Third Rail.

“See you in the morning, Mayor!”

There was no way he’d show.

#fallout 4 #fanfic #John Hancock #Hancock #hancock/sole survivor #hancock/female sole

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