#I need peace of mind to heal what broke inside of me during last year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

adorerdraco · 4 years ago

Text

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 2

PART 1

Summary: PART 2 ! of Draco falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and dealing with the consequences of opening his heart to someone.

Warnings: angst !!! but just a little fluff as always, BLOOD, violence, more crying, very detailed sectumsempra scene, mentions of death

Words: 4.9K

A/N: omg i can’t believe so many people liked the first one and to everyone who left me a comment, I appreciate you so much you have no idea plsss you guys are so beautiful. but here is part 2 and I hope you guys like it as much as the first oneee !!!!!!!! this one got dramatic. I’m thinking of doing a part 3, but I’m not sure and i also want to make it be mostly fluff so PLS let me knowww <3 i do not own gif.

It was an awful feeling; the feeling of needing a specific someone to bring him a peace he so very much lacked in his life. It was a feeling of not being able to feel joy unless he had you by his side. He felt stupid and pathetic knowing he had made an even bigger mess of himself and regrettably of you. He felt more weak too, wondering to himself why he couldn’t stop crying and do what he needs to do without several potions or you with him to get him through the day.

He didn’t want to need anyone. He didn’t want to need help. He didn’t want to need advice.

“Why can’t I just do this?” he cried to himself one night in the room of requirement, kicking something by his foot across the floor in frustration. He stared at the dead bird in hopelessness, not wanting to move it from its spot in the vanishing cabinet. He had managed to send inanimate objects, but not living things and that was only a discovery he was able to make when you were still in his life.

It had been weeks, since he left you under the tree, broken and in tears. He regressed back into to his old ways of lacking proper self care, of sleeping and eating, his studies being the last thing on his mind, him distancing himself from his Slytherin friends again. It was right back to square one, maybe even below that this time.

In Potions, he didn’t dare look at you, ever. He moved to a seat in the very back of the class where he would be hidden from you and could sulk to himself in peace.

“Mr. Malfoy, forgive me as it is none of my business, but why are you no longer working with Miss Y/L/N?” Slughorn asked him one day as he came by to grade his potion.

“It is nothing of concern, Professor,” Draco answered bitterly, holding back the scowl that wanted to show but deciding against being any more rude to authority. “I just rather work by myself.”

“It’s a shame, Mr. Malfoy, you both were my star pupils,” Slughorn mixes the potion around, eyeing it with a frown. “Now the both of you are falling behind. This potion is not passing, you forgot to mix in the dried periwinkle leaves.”

Draco never noticed how you would glance at him throughout Potions class. Of course, he was ignoring you and you felt that nasty realization every time your eyes landed on the platinum blond.

You felt numb, to say the least. You cried for days and days on end. If you weren’t in class, you were in your dorm, wrapped underneath the covers wondering why someone you shared so much love and time with had dropped you with no explanation. You tried endlessly to get him to talk to you, cornering him in the corridors, going up to him in class, but he would ignore you until you went away. He never once met your eyes, and your heart broke more every time you saw the coldness in his icy gray’s that made you feel like you didn’t even exist to him.

Your roommates and friends had gotten involved, forcing you to take better care of yourself. Staying up and hugging you while you cried. Bringing you meals from the Great Hall into the dorm. Brushing your hair when it started to become matted. Encouraging you to divulge yourself in studies rather than your sadness.

“Y/N, you are so much more than what you’re feeling,” your closest friend whispered to you one night as you cried in her embrace. “You can’t keep going like this. It’s okay to cry and be sad, but this is eating you up. Remember how strong you are. Remember the healer you are trying to be. You’ve helped so many people, inside and out, let your friends help you now.”

You nodded sadly, and finally accepted the help your friends had been trying so desperately to give you. You allowed them to take you out into the Great Hall again for meals. To Hogsmead for a fun day out. To the courtyard where you guys would sit and just talk. It was nice, feeling your old and normal life coming to light again even if it was just for a couple hours. But when you couldn’t sleep at night and your mind wandered off to Draco, you felt that same empty feeling of a gaping hole in your heart sting at you.

There was nothing you could do or say anymore. The cornering him was getting desperate and made you feel weak. The ignoring was never going to stop. You didn’t cry anymore, forcing yourself to bottle up your feelings for him deep down into your mind, body and spirit to the point where you just tried your best to recognize him as a dream.

Your brain didn’t know any better, right?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Draco sat on the floor of his dorm, head resting against the side of his bed as he twiddled with the letter from his mother between his fingertips. His owl, Aquila, sat beside him and enjoyed the loving pets he was giving her with his other hand. It was rare she let him do this, but he figured it was because she felt that he might have possibly needed this. She nibbled on a crumb of a biscuit he gave her that she had brought with her on her journey from home. Draco sighed and opened the letter again, his eyes scanning over the perfect cursive of his mother’s handwriting once more.

My Dearest Draco,

How are you, my love? I feel as though we have gone too long without writing to each other. I must say, the Manor feels lonely without you and your father here, but the house elves have been keeping me company. They are quite entertaining, some of them. I do hope you enjoy the small pastries I sent with Aquila that the elves also send on their behalf.

I know the pain you are feeling, my son. I know it wears at you and I am deeply sorry that I cannot change it or help you. Please do entrust in Professor Snape, as he is the only one who can help you and understands your circumstances. You cannot get through this alone.

Please also remember that you are just a boy. In these times of turmoil, it is easy to lose yourself in your own despair. You are young, Draco, only 16 years of life and it has already failed you. Please find it in your heart to locate the little several joys in life that keep you going. Despite your situation, It is okay to be that 16 year old boy and revel in those joys for as long as you can before it is too late and they are no longer there. Do not succumb, it is what he wants.

I will always love you, and I hope to see you soon.

All my love,

Mother

He felt tears sting at his eyes, clutching the letter to his chest as if his mother had charmed it with the feeling of a hug. It wasn’t, but he swore he could feel it. He felt sad, knowing she was all alone in that house, but suddenly remembered that his aunt was seeking refuge with her at the Malfoy Manor and his mother left it out for the sake of keeping Bellatrix’s location secret. Seeing as she was a maddened Ex/Present Death Eater and escaped prisoner on the run. The thought of Bellatrix left a bitter and foul taste in his mouth, making him feel even worse that his mother was stuck at home with that beast who was nearly as bad as the Dark Lord himself. He didn’t care that that was her sister, his aunt, she had no empathy for anything, especially not for him. He recalls her telling him right before he went to school, that he should be grateful and honored for being entrusted with a task so important.

As much as Draco wanted nothing to do with his tasks, he didn’t ignore them. He begrudgingly let Bellatrix teach him Occlumency, something he desperately needed to learn and was now a little good at. He had even tried convincing himself that he needed to do this. It was all up to him. He was chosen for this. He hated it, but he was chosen nonetheless. And he would try with everything to save his family and to make them proud, even if it killed him.

He ignored the thoughts of his aunt and his dreadful life options, refocusing on the words his mother wrote to him. They echoed in his mind, imagining her saying them to him.

“It is okay to be that 16 year old boy and revel in those joys for as long as you can before it is too late and they are no longer there.”

His mind wandered to you, knowing full and well you were are the one and only joy in his life he so deeply desires. His mother’s words hit him hard, to the point where he almost ran out of his room to go look for you. Almost.

But he was stubborn and still couldn’t pull himself out of the mindset he had boxed himself in where he thought being with you would be worse in the end for you than not being with you.

So he went over to his desk, Aquila following him before flying up to the wooden surface where she perched herself in front of him as he sat down and pulled out a parchment and quill to begin his responding letter for his mother. He thanked her for the pastries, told her he would try his best in confiding in Snape, loosely promised he would fulfill her wishes of him finding some happiness, and gave her his love. He gave the letter to Aquila, smoothing the feathers on the top of her head one last time before she chirped and flew to the window and then out of his room and into the open dark starry sky.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

More weeks had gone by. And then a month. You were seeing less and less of Draco and for a healing heart, it was the best thing for you, but also the worst. He had even began skipping class as much as he could, not that anyone ever noticed, except you and Slughorn of course.

“Miss Y/L/N, may I have a word?” Slughorn came up to you while you were working on a potion with your friend. The same friend who had given up her seat to Draco who she now despised and regretted ever doing in the first place. She gave you and the professor a look before getting up and heading to the front of the class where she began to pick up vials and jars to store the potion.

“Of course, Professor,” you answer with a polite smile.

“I spoke to Mr. Malfoy about a month ago, he seemed rather distraught,” he began, placing a finger over his chin in thought. “I’m beginning to grow worried of the boy! Is there a reason he’s no longer showing up to class?”

You swallowed thickly before responding, “your guess is as good as mine, Professor.”

“Ah, well, one mustn’t pry too much,” he says. “Also, I’m pleased to see your marks improving in the last couple weeks. Keep up the good work, Miss Y/L/N.”

And with that the professor turned around and left to go check on other students, your friend returning.

“What’d he want?” She asked, setting the supplies down on the table.

“Wanted to know about, Mr. Malfoy,” you mocked quietly, your voice turning bitter when the name left your lips.

You knew Draco’s disappearance was your fault and you felt that twang of hurt beat against your chest thinking about it. That whole conversation with the Professor killed your entire mood. It wasn’t great to begin with, but the feeling of nothing had turned into hurt.

You were roughly stirring the cauldron, preparing to put the nearly finished potion into the two large jars so it could sit overnight. They were right beside your arm and you felt your elbow collide with the glasses, cringing internally when you heard them crash onto the ground and shatter. Luckily there was nothing in them, but you had still made a mess of glass. In your heat of embarrassment and with the people are you now staring at you, you forgot you could easily clean up your mess with magic so like a klutz, you instead bent down to pick up the shards of glass that scattered the floor with your bare hands.

A loud gasp left your mouth as you began to pick them up, feeling the largest piece of glass in your palm deeply slash the skin of your hand. You dropped it, feeling the blood begin to drip down your arms and onto the floor.

“Oh no, Y/N,” your friend sighed from above you, gripping onto your other arm and lifting you up. “Are you okay?”

The question was meant for your hand, but you felt it hit your soul just as it did whenever someone asked you that question when you were so overwhelmingly not okay. You shook your head no, the pain from your hand and your heart taking over you completely as tears began to trickle down your face.

Slughorn came up to the table, waving his wand over the mess of the floor and fixed the damage done to the vases and making the small puddle of blood disappear.

“Class is dismissed, students, you are free to go to the Great Hall for lunch,” Slughorn announced and everyone quickly packed up their things and hurried out except for you and your friend. The full-bellied Professor watched you with concern and you turned to your friend where she took your hand in hers and placed it palm up for you.

You shuddered, bringing up your wand to the cut and simply thought your healing spell before watching it completely fade into a faint light pink scar.

“I’m going to explain to Slughorn what happened and put away our stuff,” she says to you, a sad glint in her eyes. “Go clean yourself up and I’ll meet you at our table for lunch with everyone when you’re done.”

You could only pathetically nod before you slung your bag over your shoulder and trudged off into the direction of a bathroom. You decided to go up to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, wanting to be alone from everyone so you could clean yourself up in peace and also have a meltdown. You didn’t know why you wanted to torture yourself with the ghosted memories you shared with Draco in that bathroom, but you still went.

You took your time getting there and you were only down the hall when you saw the entrance. It was then when you heard a familiar ghastly screaming and wailing. It was horribly loud.

“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”

Moaning Myrtle floated from the large wooden double doors, screaming so loud it ricocheted off all the walls of the now deathly silent castle. You felt all the blood drain from your face as an awful and sickening feeling had bubbled in your stomach.

“It better not be Draco,” you said to yourself, your legs taking longer strides towards the bathroom. “Please, don’t let it be Draco.”

By now, you were sprinting towards the end of the corridor, throwing your bag to the floor as soon as you reached the doors and flung yourself through and into the destroyed bathroom, stepping into a pool of water that had streaks of crimson red. Your eyes followed the trail of blood, stopping suddenly when you found the source.

A blood-curdling scream twice as loud and stronger than Myrtle’s, left your throat as you tripped over your own feet to reach him. You saw Harry Potter, standing a little ways by the door, a panicked and pained look in his eyes as he tried to understand what he had just done.

Once you reached Draco’s nearly lifeless body covered in angry red gashes, you fell next to him, his eyes finally meeting yours for the first time in ages. He was breathing raggedly in choked grunts, clutching at his mauled chest as he struggled to breath. The stormy eyes you loved so much were clouded in fear. Nothing but fear.

You shoved your hand into your pocket, searching for your wand and pulled it out hastily. You shakily waved it over his cuts, thinking and saying any spell you knew that came to your mind in the matter of 5 seconds. This was what you did. This was all you did. Why couldn’t you heal him? None of your spells worked.

“I, I can’t heal you,” you sobbed, resorting to putting your hands over his chest at a failing attempt to stop the bleeding. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“n...o,” Draco said weakly and quietly. He mustered up all his remaining strength and placed a bloodied hand over yours, you grabbed it tightly and leaned over him when you realized he was trying to speak. “S-sorry. lo...ve. y...ou.”

It felt like there was a knife in your chest being repeatedly stabbed into your heart and twisted. His eyes closed and you cried harder, knowing you were going to lose him. Everything was happening so fast. You had only been in the bathroom a solid 10 seconds, everything around you moving in a slow blur but so quickly.

It was as if Merlin had answered your pleas, the sound of the door slammed open and a maddened looking Snape rushed inside, pushing Harry roughly to the side and looking down at Draco and then you only momentarily before dropping to his knees beside him and opposite of you.

“Vulnera sanentur,” he began running his wand over the cuts on Draco’s chest and you watched with wide teary eyes as the blood pooling around you began to retreat back into the wounds. He said it again, and once the blood was back in, the cuts began to close. He chanted it one last time, and the cuts had healed into thick and reddened scars. “Miss Y/L/N, please help Draco over to the hospital wing for some dittany, and quickly please. We might be able to help with the scarring, perhaps avoid it completely. I need to deal with, Potter.”

Draco was half conscious, a dazed and confused look in the gray of his eyes as they fluttered open and closed. You noticed the scar beginning to form on his paled face and you bit back a sob. You knew if that scar stayed there, it would only drive him into a deeper hatred for himself.

You quickly got up, Snape picking up Draco and throwing his arm over your shoulders so that you would be able to help him over to the hospital wing which luckily happened to be a hall away from the bathroom. The adrenaline and sheer love for the boy was pumping through your body which had made you feel stronger in basically carrying Draco through the halls. He was dragging his feet, mumbling incoherently and you couldn’t stop crying.

You saw the doors to the hospital wing open, Madam Pomfrey staring at the scene heading towards her in horror.

“DITTANY!” you called to her. She threw open the doors wider, nodding before she ran back inside in a hurry. A passing seventh year Hufflepuff had dropped all of his books and his bag and linked arms with Draco’s free side, helping you take him inside with much more ease. Madam Pomfrey yelled to rest Draco on the nearest bed and she quickly returned with the dittany, shooing the both of you away from him.

“I’m afraid the two of you are going to have to leave, immediately,” she demands, her hand reaching up to grab the privacy curtain before shielding her and the love of your life from you and the prying eyes of shocked students gathered at the doorway to see what had happened. The Hufflepuff that had helped was already out the door, but you couldn’t bring your legs to move.

“Away from the door!” McGonagall suddenly appeared from behind the crowd of students, a disgruntled look etched into her aged skin. “Return to your house’s common rooms! That goes for you too, Miss Y/L/N.”

She gently placed both her hands on either of your shoulders, guiding you outside the door and out of the hospital wing. She gave you an empathetic glance before grabbing the handles of the doors and shutting them with a loud clang.

The lingering students stared at you in discomfort and grimaces. You looked around, still in a daze and then looked down at your body. You were drenched in blood and water, looking straight out of a horror movie and closely resembling the clothing of the Bloody Baron, Slytherin’s house ghost.

Everything still felt quiet and slow. You didn’t even notice your friends rushing towards you in hysterics, throwing you in hugs as you only stood there, unable to react. You let them pull you away, leading you to your house’s common room, tripping every now and then. You caught a glimpse of Moaning Myrtle in the distance, her cries still very loud and apparent. She had gone around the entirety of Hogwarts wailing the same news that had broken you, only this time you heard the new choice words she had added along the way.

“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER! HARRY POTTER HAS MURDERED DRACO MALFOY!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You sat immobile on the edge of your seat besides Draco’s hospital bed. Much to your surprise, Madam Pomfrey had allowed you to stay overnight with the fallen Slytherin Prince. You recognized it might be her way of paying you back from all your countless volunteering and because of that, she trusted you in knowing exactly what to do when it came to the medical field of the wizarding world.

It was around three in the morning, the incident having happened well past twelve hours ago. You were showered now and in a fresh pair of robes, your pajamas holding in your warmth as a cold draft flowed throughout the dark dimly lit room. The hospital wing was tall and large, it felt like a castle in itself, and it only made you feel more feeble. You scooted your chair closer to the bed, placing a hand onto the mattress right next to Draco’s paled slender hand.

Fingertips ghosted over his knuckles, your body shivering at the closeness of the near contact. You didn’t know how he was going to react when he woke up. It was all a waiting game, and your heart squeezed with anxiety as you awaited his regained consciousness. You didn’t forget the words he said to you right before he slipped away. They rang and rattled in your head like a pinball game on loop.

He had told you he loved you.

The thought of him dying and you never being able to tell him you felt the same haunted you. You thanked Merlin that Snape got there when he did. You also made a mental note to hex Harry into the oblivion the next time you got a chance.

You sighed deeply, your voice quavering as your ran a hand through your tangled hair. His face glistened under the orange lamp on the bedside table, his skin tinged with a grayish undertone and his eye bags deep and dark. The scar you had seen on his face earlier was gone, the skin now just holding a skinny reddened line going across his features as if he was just hit with something. You smiled slightly, knowing it would be gone in the morning and feeling grateful for him that he wouldn’t be scarred with it.

His body was covered in a hospital gown and bandages infused with dittany, but seeing how bad his cuts were before they healed, you knew those would leave something behind no matter what. In your studying towards becoming a Healer, you read about the effects of dark magic and the marks it left behind on its victims. You didn’t know what spell had done what it did to Draco, but it was violent and radiated with darkness.

The softness of his his skin was met under yours, your hand finally allowing itself to fall over his and you let out a sharp exhale at the touch. It wasn’t like earlier when you were holding onto him for dear life, rough and filled with fear and pain, this time it felt familiar. It felt warm despite the coldness of your skin and his. You shook quietly, another set of tears rippling through your body as you tried your best to not wake him. You sat up and slowly leaned over him, looking down at him to observe his peaceful features. He slept soundly and peacefully, his breathing even and quiet. Even though he almost died earlier today, he looked as though he was having the best sleep of his life. The sleep he gravely needed but seemed to never be able to get.

Your free hand softly rested on his cheek now and you carefully moved your lips towards his forehead where you placed a long kiss. A stray tear had fallen onto his skin as you pulled away and you frowned, wiping it away with your sleeve before moving your hand up towards his hair. You smoothed it back, the soft blond strands feeling like silk between your fingers. He was a dream, an angel to you. You stood by what you had told him that unfortunate day under the tree, he was good, and you would tell him again and again until he believed it himself.

Just as you pulled back from him, a sharp gasp erupted and he shot up in bed, grabbing and tearing at his gown as breathless quick pants fell from his lips.

“Hey, Draco, I’m here, you’re okay, relax,” you coo gently, grabbing his hands and holding them tightly in yours so he wouldn’t tear his bandages. Your heart battered against your chest, the waterworks in your eyes beginning all over again. He stared at you, searching your eyes and he began to cry too. The same broken and deep sobbing from months ago you had grown accustomed to hearing.

He threw himself onto you, crying even harder as his arms wrapped around you, his hand on the back of your head pressing you into his chest. You climbed into the bed in deep shaky breaths so that you were now sitting on your knees between his legs. It was overwhelming, to put it lightly, both of you crying into each other as you remembered the fall out, the lonely days and nights, the wasted opportunities, the endless missing of one another’s presence in their lives.

“I’m sorry,” Draco chokes out. “I never meant to hurt you. I thought that by pushing you away, you would be safer, but I can’t do it anymore. I need you, I love you, Y/N.”

You cradled him in your arms, rocking the two of you back and forth, and you shook your head reverently.

“I forgave you the second I thought I was going to lose you,” you respond quickly. “Merlin, Draco, you scared me to death. I thought you were gone.”

The same words from his mother echoed in his head again and he finally understood what they meant.

“It is okay to be that 16 year old boy and revel in those joys for as long as you can before it is too late and they are no longer there.”

Darkness was going to arrive one way or another, it was going to steal the rest of whatever life he had left in him one day. It was out of his hands, out of his control. The time to live his life was now. Because he didn’t know when he would ever have this opportunity of love again, of safety, of light. Everything was undefined and unknown and he felt the anguishing regret of all his decisions when he had seen you in the bathroom hovering over him with a hopeless look in your eyes. He promised himself, to Merlin and to the sun, the moon and all the stars that in the 1% chance that he survived that close call with death, he would never abandon you again. His heart pained at the memory of him trying to sputter out his final ‘I love you,’ not knowing whether or not you heard it or if you understood how genuinely he had meant it.

The room was only filled with sniffles and shaky breathing, both of you still in the same rocking position, afraid that if you let each other go, the other is going to disappear.

“Draco,” you say, lifting his head up from the crook of your neck so that he could look you in the eyes. “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know. Please don’t ever, ever leave again.”

“Not in a million years, darling.”

PART 3

2K notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 4 years ago

Text

Fever Dream

Request: Can you write a scenario of Ash making love with his s/o? Like, they would have tried multiple times in the past, but he was too scared and paranoid so it never went anymore further. But after multiple discussions and psychological help, he finally decided to have sex with his s/o and after they finish, and during aftercare, Ash starts crying because he finally took his first step into recovery. And his s/o comforts him and praises him for doing so well.

-anon

Fandom: Banana Fish

Pairing: Ash Lynx / fem!reader

Genre: Angst / bit of fluff / Smut

All characters aged to 20+

Word Count: 1,402 K

//Contains minor spoilers//

A/N: Thank you so much for sending in my first Banana Fish request! Honestly I planned to write this much much more angsty but... I just couldn’t, I want Ash to be happy T^T Also sorry this was a bit late! I hope you enjoy this anon, I’m wishing you a great day <3

It’s been a year since Dino met his demise and Ash became truly free from his prison. Eiji had moved to Japan for a short while but then moved back to New York. Seemingly everything was perfect, you worked at a local bookstore and you lived with Ash and had a nice peaceful home.

That is until you realized that some wounds took longer to heal.

It all started when you kissed him. You’ve never did before that since you never wanted to make Ash feel uncomfortable. It was a lazy afternoon and just as he was reading a book, you leaned over and gave him a soft peck on the lips.

You were pleasantly surprised when Ash leaned in to you, his lips simply tasted as heaven. With a soft moan you part your lips and with a smirk on his face his snuck his tongue in. You felt dizzy from the feeling of his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth.

Ash’s hand traveled down your back and landed on your ass, giving it a playful squeeze, you let out a soft gasp and giggled afterwards. His hand ghosted over your hip and played with the zipper of your jeans. You mimicked his movement and your hands slid over his firm chest and towards his sweatpants. Your hand softly cupped his erect cock over the soft fabric.

Your eyes widened when Ash flinched and pushed you away. You looked at him, confused, the blond averted his green eyes from yours a faint color of pink coloring his cheeks.

He whispered a faint “sorry” and that’s when you understood that his dark past still lingered over him.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Three months had passed since the day both you and Ash realized that he couldn’t have sex. There was no issue with Ash touching you, quite the contrary, the blond loved to tease you and touch you whenever he could. The problem lied more in when you touched him. There was no issues in hugging or kissing but if it got any further , he would either freeze up or move away.

It broke your heart because he clearly felt guilty about it despite you telling him that it was okay over and over again.

Then Ash, much surprisingly, decided that he needed help and actually started going to a therapist. You always went with him and waited until the sessions were over. You knew how much of a big deal it was. Ash wasn’t exactly a fan of opening up.

You were always there for him. Supporting him, talking to him and saying that even if it doesn’t work out you didn’t mind it. Sex wasn’t that big of an issue as long as you had him by your side. Ash seemed to respond well to the encouragement and the therapy.

It started out slowly.

After countless of sessions, Ash stopped flinching away from your touch then he agreed to you giving him a blowjob. It took a couple of days until he felt relaxed enough for you to actually pleasure him completely. You didn’t mind taking it slow as long as he felt good.

Ash laid on the bed, your lips wrapped around his cock, you look up to him. His eyes were shut closed, soft moans escaping his already parted lips, his hand on the back of your head … Ash Lynx truly looked like a greek god in his aroused state. You felt privileged that you could see such a sight. He was beautiful.

Time passed and after a day of excruciating work, you came home to an Ash that was simply beaming with light. You raised an eyebrow and a small smile tugging at your lips, you closed the door from behind you.

“You seem happy.”

Ash smirked at you as he made his way towards you. Just as you slid off your coat, he caught your lips in a passionate kiss. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears and in that moment the only thing you could feel was his soft lips moving against yours. He let your lips go with a pop, with half lidded eyes, panting, you stare at him.

“I’m ready.” he said simply, tugging a loose strand behind your ear.

Hearing that the both of you were quick to make your way towards the bedroom, your hands constantly all over each other as you did so. A second after you reached the bedroom, the both of you had shed each other from your clothes.

You were laying on the bed as Ash grazed his lips against your skin and traveled towards your neck. He kissed your flushed skin and gave it an experimental bite. A loud moan escaped your lips as a response and Ash chuckled against your skin.

“What lovely responses…” he whispered.

His lips traveled from your neck towards the valley of your breasts, leaving soft kisses along the way. With one hand he cupped you breast, his fingers toying with your hardened nipple. His mouth wrapped around your other breast, his tongue mimicked the same movement he was doing with his fingers, pulling, tugging and rolling your nub between his teeth.

Your back arched up in a response, your thighs rubbing against each other in order to get some kind of friction. Much to your dismay, Ash stopped his movements and looked up to you with a devilish glint in his jade eyes. He licked his lips and you could sweat at that moment your heartbeat stopped.

Quickly, he pulled out a condom from his bedside table. Wrapping himself up, he lined his cock along with your arousal. He gave you one last look and you nodded with maybe a bit too much enthusiasm.

You let out a strangled moan when Ash fully buried his cock inside of you. Letting out a satisfied sigh, your head fell back.

“Fuck, you’re so tight y/n.” Ash breathed out.

Slowly, he started to move. You could feel the hesitation in his movements, the fear of maybe he was hurting you. To encourage him, you moaned.

“Faster…” you whispered.

Reaching out to him, you placed your hand on his cheek. Smiling, Ash tilted his head slightly and kissed the inside of your palm, his movements quickening, your hand fell back to your side.

With every snap of his hips, you saw heaven. Your mind was only filled with pleasure and the only thing that you could focus on was how good Ash was making your feel. Before you can process what he was doing, Ash snuck his hand beneath your thigh and threw your leg over his shoulder. You saw stars as he went even deeper inside of you.

“How’s… how’s that?” Ash asked, panting.

You couldn’t even fathom a reply but knowing he had to hear it, you muster the last crumble of your collective thoughts.

“S-So good.” you moaned out between parted lips. You could feel spit dripping down your chin, you licked your lips.

Ash smiled at your response and shut his eyes, focusing on how good you felt wrapped around him, he bit his bottom lip. Heat starting to build up, you mewl.

“Ash, I’m about to cum.”

“Cum for me then.” Ash panted. “Cum.”

That was all you had to hear. Your eyes widened as your whole upper body jolted up. Screaming his name, your inner walls clenched around his cock and you could feel your cunt throbbing around him as he continued to fuck in to you.

“That’s right,” Ash whispered with a smirk. “ Good girl.”

Ash was soon to follow. With one last strong thrust, he leaned in to you and bit your neck as he cum. You hissed at the sudden pain but Ash was quick to ease it and sucked your flesh. Ash laid on top of you, both of you trying to catch your breath.

When suddenly you heard sniffles.

“Ash?” you called out. “What’s wrong?”

Ash buried his head further in to your neck.

“I’m just…” his breath hitched. “I’m just so happy, finally, finally I’m getting better.”

Weakly, you lifted your hand and placed it on his head. Stroking his blond locks, you placed a soft kiss on the top of his head.

“Yes you are.” you replied with an encouraging tone. “I’m so proud of you Ash. You’re so strong.”

“I’m only strong because you’re by my side, y/n.”

#banana fish #banana fish imagine #banana fish x reader #ash lynx #ash lynx x reader #unmonetized #angst #request #anon #tw : ptsd #banana fish ash

887 notes · View notes

dracosaurusrex · 4 years ago

Text

Palace

Summary: In which you discover a new love in the midst of your heartbreak.

Prompt: “with you, I thought I knew love. but maybe I still don’t” A/N: Hi y’all! So this is my take on the @minty-malfoy ‘s 300 writing challenge :) (Congratulations my friend! You’re amazing!) I have to admit, writing angst is not my strong suit, and I had to do some research to grasp what it was. Within my findings, something that caught my attention in particular was the fact that angst is defined as going through the character’s emotional workings, topped with a newfound sense of strength. There might be some holes present, but overall this piece is molded on that understanding, and I hope it reaches out to you in whatever way that resonates the most.

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

Throughout her years at Hogwarts, Y/N had been able to pick up a number of skills. She may not have been as good at studying as Hermione Granger, or as athletic as Ginny Weasely, or even as creative as Luna Lovegood--no. You were an average girl who didn’t have much to show for except your ability to hide behind a thick mask.

You were typically known for your kindness, which was complimented by a pair of sparkling e/c eyes, a warm smile, and a nurturing personality. Additionally, you were graced with a good sense of humor and an infectious laugh. To all of your friends, you were the embodiment of the sun; a girl whose being was commonly associated with terms such as, “beautiful”, “genuine”, and “loving”. A girl who never seemed to show any indication of internal conflict, who had everything under control.

These perceptions always came in handy, for they molded into the shape of a mask when times became rough for you. Because of this, you were capable of fooling everyone into thinking that you were okay.

You felt your consciousness resurfacing from sleep as the morning lulled your body awake. Your eyes fluttered open to the ceiling with your fingers interlaced over your chest. Meanwhile, rays of early light infiltrated random crevices of the dorm, and birds were singing rather loudly outside of your window. Allowing yourself to lay in the stillness, you treasured the moment, took deep breaths, and basked in what felt like peace.

Your surroundings were blissful--and you were grateful--but waking up now equated to reuniting with the recurring tightness that gripped your heart. Memories of a love that had once initiated butterflies had transformed into needles that prickled your chest. A love that once caressed you now felt like a ghostly presence.

‘Where did it all go wrong?’ You found asking yourself as of late. As you laid in bed, you allowed old scenes of your time with Draco Malfoy to play in your head, recalling the feelings attached to each.

You remembered the rush of adrenaline that you felt the first time you had confessed. You remembered the relief combined with excitement when the feelings were confirmed to be mutual.

You remembered the feeling of your heart skipping when his fingers first slipped into yours, hands intertwined like a glove.

You remembered the temporary sense of confidence that overcame when you initiated the first kiss and the shock that appeared on both your faces after realizing what you did.

The first “I love you”.

You remembered your first time with him--the sweet whispers, the moans, the laughing, the feeling of pleasure as you came onto one another. You remembered the way his fingers stroked your hair as you laid on top of him with his free arm wrapped around your waist.

You recalled memories of exchanges of comforting words during moments where either one of you felt doubt or unease.

You remembered the inside jokes you made, the goofy side of him that he only showed to you.

You remembered the plans you both have made, the exhilarating thought of sharing a future with him. The way he gripped your hands and looked into your eyes as he made promises that ended up being broken.

You remembered the thrill of it all--the palace you had built with him, and how you’ve done so fearlessly until it came crashing down.

You recalled all the love you had ever given him, all of yourself you had devoted to him, all the dreams, the hopes, the what-could’ve-beens in the moment the words fell out of his lips:

“With you, I thought I knew love. But maybe I still don’t.” Draco uttered in a bare whisper.

He kept his hands clasped on his lap as he avoided looking at you. You had found yourselves sitting on the edge of his bed with the moonlight illuminating his dorm.

Just a couple weeks ago you were in his arms, sharing kisses without any thought that this would happen--you were on top of the world--but when it did, you felt knots forming over your chest and your stomach. A sob had dared to come up, but you gulped it back down into your throat. Your mind was racing and your eyes were tearing, but you wouldn’t allow your tears to fall. You couldn’t.

Instead, you grabbed both sides of his face and smiled weakly.

“Draco, I’ll always love you. I’ll always care for you…” Your lips started to tremble as you looked straight into Draco’s eyes. They were filled with so much guilt.

Breathing in and out slowly, you continued, “I just hope the next girl will be able to make you even happier and take care of you much better than I did.”

Your lips were pursed into a tight line as you tried to give a convincing smile of reassurance. Your throat started to sting because of the resistance you made towards crying. In doing so, a tear had found a way to roll down your cheek. He grabbed your wrists as you continued to hold his face, his eyes glazed over with regret. His lips trembled as he witnessed your efforts to be strong.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry! I never wanted to hurt you at all! I-” You hushed his frantic whispers.

“Don’t worry about me, my love. I promise you everything will be okay.” It was at this point that Draco let out the gasp of despair he held in. He proceeded to reach out to wipe your tears. You closed your eyes and allowed them to fall at this point, leaning into his touch for the very last time. Once you opened them, you did the same and wiped the tears that had stained his porcelain skin. Draco sat there stunned at how much you were holding in.

You whispered, “We’ll be okay. Okay?” He could only nod. You remembered the last time you leaned forward to kiss his lips. To your dismay, he didn’t respond. As you drew yourself away from him, you stood up straight and attempted in giving one of your signature smiles.

“I guess I’ll see you around Malfoy.”

You recall feeling dead upon arriving at your dorm. Your eyes were puffy, and you thought you finished crying, but as you tucked yourself to bed, the tears you had kept began to fall.

You broke away from the memory as you silently wiped the tears that had formed in your eyes. It has been about a month since your break up. You hadn’t talked to the boy since then. Instead, you made it a priority to reconstruct your life. Your friends would constantly try to comfort you by saying things like, “Go show him what he lost” or “He doesn’t deserve you, Y/N!” You appreciated their efforts, but Merlin knows that it’ll take a while for you to heal. You couldn’t bring it upon yourself to be angry at him. While the moment left a bitter taste in your mouth, you knew deep inside that the love you shared for one another was never a waste of time.

With a huff, you jolted from your bed, grabbed your uniform, and dragged your legs to the bathroom to get ready for the new school day. The way you handled yourself now was done more carefully than how you used to. Every motion--buttoning your shirt, tucking it into your skirt, tying your tie, and throwing your jumper over your body--was done with more caution. You brushed your hair straight, running your fingers through any tangles, and clamped it into a simple half-do. As you stared into the mirror, you took notice of your appearance. The red tint that lined the edges of your eyes as a result of the tears you shed earlier. You notice the bags that have formed, the slight peeling of your lips. You began to fix your face by applying a light amount of foundation and mascara, followed by a thin layer of tinted chapstick. Slowly, the indications of your sadness dissipated as you put on your makeup. You weren’t really the type to praise yourself, but as you stared at yourself in the mirror once more, you had to admit that you felt a bit pretty. ‘It’s a step forward. Here’s to another day’ You smiled slightly at your reflection, and made your way to the Great Hall.

So far, you managed to show what you considered to be your normal self to your friends whenever they were in your presence. Not wanting them to worry, you did your best to seem energized every time you were joined in their conversations, inserting laughs, and adding on to the fun when needed. You felt obligated to show everyone, including Draco, that you were okay. It’s been like that ever since things ended. The entire student body was aware of the fall. Both you and the boy looked very off the day after it happened. However, slowly but surely, you had reverted back to your sunny self, surprising many of those around you. Only you knew that it was a facade though, and that deep down inside, you still pined for the ghost of your relationship.

Your thoughts often drifted to him. He was sat in the Slytherin table with his usual group of friends. As you took small glances at him, you wondered what went on in his mind, how he felt about you, and whether or not he misses what you had shared with him. You wondered if he took notice of the energy you conveyed, if he noticed the smile that was plastered on your face now that you weren’t together. Was he convinced with your little charade?

You broke your gaze from him the moment he turned his focus to your direction. Not wanting to get caught, you chimed into their conversation once more, a convincing smile of enjoyment on your lips. Once you felt that enough time had passed, you discretely glance at him again, only to have your eyes meet ever so slightly. The time for your classes to start was drawing near. Wanting to be alone in your own thoughts, you left them to walk around.

The hallways you roamed in taunted you as you began to recall, once again, figures of your memories. A warm feeling rose in your chest as you relished the small moments of laughter, playful kisses, and the heart-racing sensation of the back hugs he gave. It was ironic, but reminiscing helped you cope. Perhaps it was the thought of another chance. At the same time, however, you couldn’t deny that it might’ve been the result of the fear of moving on. You sighed, allowing your mind to push away the harshness of the latter. ‘Today will be a good day. I’ll make sure of it.’ With the feeling of encouragement overcoming you once again, you set off to your first class with a new sense of optimism. You weren’t sure about how long the feeling would last, but now that you had it, there was no point in taking it for granted. After all, as long as you were alive, the Earth would still continue to turn, and your commitment to reconstructing your life blazed on.

The fluctuation between sadness and inspiration was a common occurrence in this point of your life. There were nights that felt completely agonizing, but there were also moments where you felt as though you were slowly falling in love with your life and the potential that it holds. It was then that you felt such enlightenment had brought you raw joy and peace. No masks or facades. No fake smiles. These were found in very minuscule fragments throughout the day. It took the form of the sense of concentration that you had when you studied, the feeling of achievement when you understood a difficult concept. It also embodied the scent of rain when it pours, the cold air that accompanies the sunrise, the sight of bookshelves in the library, the blissful feeling of getting lost in muggle literature. Joy was found in the sounds of the crackling fire, a satisfied belly after a good dinner, as well as the company of friends who have seen you at your worst. You were enchanted by the thought of filling your life with these wholesome moments--to take control and be the artist as you paint such details into your canvas. Sometimes such joy became so overwhelming that the heartache you felt seemed nonexistent.

‘How nice would it be to share it with you, though.’ You thought of him.

And perhaps you would be able to one day; but for now, within the sadness you were beginning to embrace this new love. A love that surpassed the borders of romantic affections.

Draco’s words would ring in your mind whenever you thought of this. You would create scenarios in your head, formulating what you would’ve said to him that night with all the newfound wisdom you had now.

“I thought I knew what love was when I was with you also. However, I can now see the pieces of my true love. How it surrounds me whether you’re by my side or not.” You said to yourself, wrapping yourself in hope as you amount to build your own palace once again.

A/N: I might make a second part to this to show Draco’s view on Y/N’s growth, but we’ll see hehe! I hope that moments of peace and bits of joy make their way to you no matter how hard life may become. You’re all deserving of love <3 Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great day!

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy x you #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #hogwarts #slytherin

140 notes · View notes

catxsnow · 4 years ago

Text

OLD WOUNDS PT. TWO

Summary: Dick’s words broke you more than a bullet ever could, it was time to fix that once and for all. No matter the outcome.

Warning: angst, some swears

A/N: Part two babyyyyy. Wasn’t planning on this but I’m glad that I did!

Word count: 3.5k

GIF not mine

Part one

It took weeks for your bullet wound to heal. Weeks of not being able to go out on the streets, weeks of being stuck at home, and weeks with nothing to do except for think about the words that Dick Grayson lashed out to you.

You knew that he was being honest about what he was thinking. Dick never yelled at you unless there was a reason and this one was loud and clear. Dick hated you. He hated you for leaving everyone behind without a second thought. He hated you for abandoning the people that you once called family.

And he was right to do so. You left for your own benefit and didn't think about anyone else while doing so. It was selfish of you, and you regretted it. Of course you did, leaving them left you with no one. You had been alone for years. You didn't want the pain of Jason and Wally's deaths leaning on you, or anyone else that you couldn't save.

Those weeks had left you in a mess. Sleepless nights of wondering how different things would be if you hadn't left. Stressing over whether or not you should ever show your face outside of your apartment again. Most of all, you felt the kind of sadness in your chest that never truly went away.

Dick's words hurt more than the bullet he took out of you.

It was what you needed to hear. You needed to know that you hurt so many people because of your actions. The pain that he cracked against you like a whip stung deep, but the true pain came from knowing that everything was your fault. You took his happiness, and you ruined him for years.

Babs, Kori, they were better than you, they always had been. Morally, skillfully, they always won against you and yet Dick wasn't happy with either of them. He was happy with you and you broke him in return.

By the time that your wound had healed, you needed to get out of your home. You needed the fresh air, the harsh punches against criminals. That was the night that you wouldn't mind if a thug got the upper hand on you.

You had left Gotham the moment you left the Wayne Manor. It wasn't fair of you to stick around after already causing so much pain. Home was only a few cities over, you could never bring yourself to veer too far off.

It felt refreshing to leap from roof top to roof top. The crisp cold air woke you up out of the sluggish state you had been in. This was what you lived for, fighting crime and bringing peace to the people. It was too bad that you could never bring peace with your friends, if they dared to call you that anymore.

That night, you had taken down a few people. An idiotic thief, a pickpocketer, a group of men who were getting a too handsy with an innocent woman. The moment you jumped from the roof you knew that you were way outnumbered. There were too many men at once and you were stuck right in the middle of it all.

It was what you felt like you deserved. More punches than you normally would receive, but not enough that you couldn't take these bastards down. By the time the last one fell to the ground, blood dripped down your cheek and your lips. You spit out a mix of saliva and blood and stormed away from the scene.

The rest of the night was quiet, and quiet was what you were trying to avoid. It wasn't until you passed by your old hideout did you finally stop. It was well abandoned now, you hadn't been there since leaving the team. With a sigh, you headed over to the building. The access code was still the same - Dick's birthday.

Dust covered all the computers but nothing had been changed. You spent a lot of hours in that room. Between you and Dick, it was easy to clock in over thirty hours a week there. You spent a lot of time with him there and being inside only brought back memories that you were trying to diminish, not resurface.

However, you pushed on. You flipped the lights on in the room, looking around at everything that you once had. Dick was right, this was your fault. Everything that happened was because you weren't strong enough to be there.

You fingers trailed over the desks and you walked towards the Zeta Tube Bruce allowed you to have. It made it a hell of a lot easier to get to the mountain or the watchtower rather than going all the way over to Gotham. The machine whirred to life, and with a moments of hesitance, you typed in where you wanted to go.

The likeliness that they kept your name in the roster was slim, and you were sure that it wasn't even going to work. However, when you were beamed out of the room and to the Watchtower, you were more surprised than anything. The robotic voice spent chills down your spine as you arrived.

The Watchtower looked the same as it always had. Cold, empty, never home. Mount Justice had been your home for many years when you finally settled from going from mentor to mentor. The team was the first time that you ever felt like you had a stable life. Leaving it and having to come all the way up there? It never felt right.

You didn't realize you were walking towards the large window that overlooked Earth. A smile made its way to your face as you thought about the amount of times that you and Dick would watch from above. You spent hours with him up there, watching, talking, simply loving him and everything there was to him.

Fuck, did you miss him.

The loss of him hadn't hurt you this badly in so long. Seeing him again destroyed you just as much as him. You hadn't realized how much you missed having him by your side, whether it was fighting crime or in bed. You needed him in your life and it had been years since you had him.

"It's been a long time."

"Bruce," you acknowledged. You hadn't heard him come up behind you but you knew the sound of his voice. "I'm surprised you didn't cut off my access. Not very Batman of you."

"It was Tim that insisted," Bruce finally stood by your side. You could hear the underline in his voice though: Tim, not Dick. Tim always looked up to you when he had the mantle of Robin. He copied your fighting style in many ways and had a similar thought process to yours. You didn't know how he felt after you left.

Tim and Dick were as close as any non-blood related brother could be. During missions, Dick relied on Tim to be the leader of the group, he knew that he could handle things when things got tough. You both did. Tim was just another poor soul that you crushed upon your leaving.

"I take it you healed just fine?" Bruce continued upon your silence. You managed to avoid him, and anyone else in the Manor as you left that night. You weren't surprised that he had still managed to find out about your brief visit.

"Physically, you bet," you nodded. This time, Bruce picked up on your tone - Dick had laid a new one on you. He didn't know what conversation went on between the two of you but Dick had been on edge and snappy ever since you left. "Thank you, for saving me. I owe you one - I owe you lots."

"You could come back," Bruce looked over at you. His lips were in a tight line and his eyes couldn't be seen beneath his cowl. The long black cape draped his shoulders and you couldn't help but wish that you too had a cape to hide within. "We could use you on the team, either team."

"It's been years, Bruce," you sighed. I'm not welcome back, was more like it. You felt traitorous to even show up there, you couldn't consider rejoining the team. When the pain of your friends deaths started to dim, you dared showed your face there again? No, that wouldn't fly with half the members of the team. Dick wouldn't allow it.

You couldn't put him through that. He could barely meet your eyes, how did you ever expect that he would trust you again on a mission? Or trust you to have his or anyone else's back? No, your spot on the team was long gone, you didn't deserve it anymore.

"I'm not the same person that I used to be," you continued. Bruce looked at your bloody, bruised face. Beneath your mask, he could see the outline of fresh purple bruises. A small cut dragged across your cheek and although you tried to wipe the blood from your busted lip, some of it was still smeared around your mouth. In all the years that he knew you, you would never allow someone to get that many face hits - this was on purpose.

It wasn't just the beaten face you referred to. It was the aggression. Your tactics became more violent, less with the law. It was hard to maintain a sense of justice when justice killed your friends. Doing the right thing didn't always get your somewhere in life, it got you killed.

Even your suit had changed. Oliver had designed your original one. It was form fitting, covered any exposed skin and protected your from the harms of your world. Now, you showed off a dangerous amount of skin, not caring what could happen to you.

"Dick has gone through too much in his life, I can't put him through this," you pulled your mask off with a sigh. You eyes that once shone bright at the sight below you were now cold and sharp. Bruce could see the exhaustion on your face and how much being back here was tearing you apart.

"I did a lot of bad things in my life but leaving him was the worst thing I could have done. Doing things right by him isn't me joining the team again, it's me leaving, for good. I'm not coming back Bruce, ever," You fished out the device that he had given you and handed it over to him. He never made a move to grab it. "I can't keep causing pain in other peoples lives just to try and lessen my own pain. Leaving for good might just solve that."

Bruce reached into his belt to pull out a small velvet box. He handed it over to you and with confusion in your eyes, you grabbed it. Inside was a ring, an engagement ring.

"Weeks before Jason died, Dick was going to give this to you," Bruce told you. Tears stung your eyes and your throat tightened up. It had been just over three years that the two of you were dating before Jason died. "He wanted Jason to be one of his groomsmen., Wally to be his best man."

"Why are you telling me this?" You didn't want to hear about how you ruined his plans for his future. You didn't want to know that Dick loved you enough that he wanted to marry you. The reality of how much you hurt him amplified.

"Running from your problems was what caused this in the first place," Bruce didn't accept the ring or the beacon as you tried to hand both back to him. "Dick and I don't always see eye to eye on things, but we both knew that you were good for him."

Bruce said nothing else to you. He glanced down at the items in your hand once more before leaving. The velvet box in your hand seemed to be burning a hole into it. The idea of marrying Dick would once excite you, bring you joy about your future with him because at one point he was your future. Now? Now all you could feeling was the unwelcoming pain of shame.

"Fuck," you muttered. You crouched down, the ring box pressed to your forehead as you tried to decipher your thoughts. Dick was the love of your life all those years ago and you truly fucked that up. No greater mistake could have been made on your behalf. "Fuck."

Why hadn't you just stayed? Why did you have to make the unwise choice of leaving for your own benefit? To pull yourself away from the people that you cared about so that if they ever got hurt you wouldn't have to feel heartbreak? Where did that get you? At home, miserable because you had no one. Miserable because you knew that just as much as you missed your friends, they missed you more.

All this time you thought that you left to avoid the pain, but being back here? That hurt you more than all those years away. The reminder that you once had people that would trust you with their life, that wanted to spent their life with you. Now, you had no one. No one would be willing to take a misfit like you back into their life, not after they had just gotten back to where they were before you left.

Maybe it would have been easier to not have pressed that beacon. Maybe it would have been easier to let those men take you. Whatever pain that they would have inflicted upon you had to have hurt less than what you were feeling now. Emotional pain never went away, physical wounds healed.

You wanted to apologize to Dick. You wanted to tell him how you really felt about these past years but you knew he wouldn't stay long enough to hear you out. Hell, you didn't even have a way of contacting him. The device in your hand suddenly felt heavy. You had one way of getting him to come to you.

"Fuck," you repeated one last time. With the ring weighing you down in the other hand, you pressed the button. Who knows if he would even come but you needed to see him once more. If he truly wanted you out of his life, you would heed to his words - trying to force your way back in wasn't going to be fair to him.

You stood there and waited. The Earth below you was cascaded with darkness as the sun had been on the other side. Darkness of the world seemed to be no less dark than you.

Your heart raced as you heard the animated voice - someone was arriving in the zeta tube. You stood there, still facing the large window that cast into space. Being all the way up here made everything down there feel impossible irrelevant. All the problems that you had within the planet seemed to disappear.

"Why are you here?"

Dick. You turned to face him, unsure of what you wanted to say. There were so many things racing through your head and none of them seemed good enough to even sightly make up for what you did. Nothing you could say would ever make up for it, but you hoped that maybe Bruce was right, maybe there was hope for redemption.

The anger that was on his face fell to one of worry as he saw the state of your face. The bruises that covered your jaw, cheeks, and the blood that had dried up on your skin. No matter how angry he ever was at you, even when you were still here, he was always concerned with your safety first.

"What happened?" He changed his statement. Dick stood at your side, his hand reaching up to look over what was wrong. No matter how tender his touch was, you couldn't help but flinch away. You didn't deserve his comfort. Dick's hand dropped back down to his side.

"Nothing I didn't deserve," you assured. He was in his civilian clothes, but he looked tired. Bags were under his eyes, his shoulders drooped while his hands were in his pockets. "I know you don't want to see me, but I wanted to talk with you."

"I'm here," Dick surmised. That was enough to tell you that though he didn't want to be there, he would listen to what you had to say. However, his gaze went from your face down to your hands, he recognized the small box in your hand. "Where did you get that?"

His voice became harsh. So harsh that you winced and cowered back. Wish shaky hands, you handed him the ring. "Bruce," you answered. "Dick I could apologize to you a thousand times and it would never be enough to make up for what I did, I know that. I could announce to the whole world that I'm a fuck up and that I deserve to be frowned upon and that wouldn't come close to enough.

"Fuck, I know that there is nothing in this world that can make up for my mistakes. What I did, to you, the rest of the team, it was awful of me. I know that. I shouldn't have left but you were right: I am weak. I was too weak to face my fears so I ran. If I would have known better, I should have ran to you instead of away, but I didn't.

"It's too late to change things, to change what I did. I just hope that one day that you won't have to look at me with that same anger in your eyes that you have right now." You played with the small velvet box between your fingers. With a sigh, you handed it back over to him. "You deserve a happy life Dick, and after all of this, the life shouldn't have to include me."

Dick grabbed the ring from you. "I bought this less than a year after we started dating," Dick finally spoke after a long moment of silence. You couldn't tell what he was thinking. "I knew I wanted to marry you. After being friends for so long, I couldn't picture myself with anyone else. You were always the one."

"I'm sorry I ruined that," you sighed. You looked down at the mask that you held in your hands. It was the one that Dick got you when you first joined the team. Even if your costume changed, you couldn't bare to part with it. Reluctantly, you handed that over to him as well. He smiled a little as he held it.

"I came to say goodbye, Dick," his gaze abruptly shifted from the mask, to your bruised eyes. "I put you through too much in this lifetime, I can't keep doing this to you. I figured after all this time, a proper goodbye would do us good. I understand that you don't want me here anymore, I understand no one does."

"I never said that," Dick cut you off. "I never said I didn't want you here. It wasn't fair of me to blow up at you the other night, I'm sorry for being so reactive but I'm not sorry for what I said. You left us, you ran away, but if you truly want to make things right, then you need to stop running.

"You want to make up for everything that you've done? You work your ass off here, on this team. You lead the kids to make the right choices and not to make the same mistakes that you did. That's how you earn my forgiveness, that's how you make things right with the team, with your friends."

Your head hung low. "If you want me to stay, I'll stay. If you want me to leave, I'll leave. Whatever choice you make, I promise you with my life that I will stick with it."

There was another silence between you. Dick's gaze turned away from you and towards the window. "We spent a lot of hours here, looking down at the world that we give our lives to protect. Couldn't bring myself to spend a lot of time here after you left," He honestly told you. Dick handed your mask back to you. "I'm tired of seeing you walk away."

"Then I won't. Ever again," You grabbed your mask from his hand. The same calloused hands that would cup your face when you were feeling scared, the ones that would grab your own hands when you needed comfort, the ones that fought against so many people to protect you.

"Dick, I-" you cut yourself off with a staggered breath. You wanted to tell him so many things: I love you, I never stopped missing you, I want to be yours again. You couldn't. If Dick ever wanted you back again, it would have to be on his terms, not your own. You didn't even know if he ever wanted that.

It didn't matter though. You would live a lifetime in pain just to make him happy for even a second.

"I'm glad to be back."

tagged: @gotta-get-back-to-johnlock thanks for getting me to do a part 2!

#dickgrayson #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson oneshot #young justice #young justice imagine #dc #dc imagine #batfam #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #bruce wayne #catxsnow writes

467 notes · View notes

arthurflecksgirl · 4 years ago

Note

Hi sweety❤️ Can I have a fic where Arthur helps x reader who's having a panick attack? him calming her down, cuddling her... thank you so much 😘

My dear friend. Thank you sooooo much for your request. I really really hope you like the result.

Summary: You`re greateful for how far you and Arthur had come in your relationship, how much progress he made to experience true happiness. But then you discover one of his journal entries. Is he still in the same dark place he was before? Just the thought of him suffering is giving you a panic attack. But Arthur is right there with you...

The dim light from the tv screen was the only light that filled the living room. Murray Franklin was talking to a well known comedian. You watched Arthur resting on the couch. He was falling asleep during the live show, even though he was looking forward to this episode all day, he was so tired, his eyes got heavy when Ellis Draine and his Jazz Orchestra started playing already.

"One day" you thought watching him breathe in and out like it was the easierest thing to do when you suffered from waht he had been through. One day he will be sitting on Murrays couch and telling his own jokes. And his idol will be proud of him like a father. Because he deserved it. He deserved the world.

Arthur seemed at peace with himself sleeping. That was new. Which made you proud of how far you two have come in your relationship. He was getting better.You felt it every morning waking up, receiving your good morning kiss from his coffee stained lips and cigarette tasting breath. He was making baby steps but looking at it now, over a year later it was a total different world he was living in. The one you created together. Ever since you met him you wanted to cure him. To support and comfort him through everyday life. To help him out of his mindset which was all that he had known since he was little.

People kept telling you that it was impossible to heal wounds like his. To heal someone that experienced his kind of trauma. That all he needed was proffessional help. But you knew that they missed out at something. Just because he needed his meds didnt mean that love wasnt the key for his cure. You knew that there were some scars hidden inside of him, buried so deep that it would take years to get through and be able to work on that. But you also knew that being loved was the only thing in this world that could ease Arthurs pain and make him the man he always wanted to be. He was destined to be.

And every single day spent together was proof that he was making progress. His smile became more and more genuine. His laughing fits didnt happen as often anymore and if so they wouldnt last that long because you would hold him and help him breathe until it was over. He also told you about his journal entries and how they changed. His therapist was also seeing the changes. He was talking about how much more poetry and beautiful thoughts filled the pages.

You gently stroke his hair. Watching him sleep always felt pretty intimate to you. He was so vulnerable and unaware of his beauty. But you knew that even in his sleep he was aware of another thing- your love. Thats why he was even able to get some sleep.

You took another close look at his face. You could never get enough of him. It was risky to give him a kiss on his closed eyelids. Arthur had a very light sleep and could wake up any second but there was no way to fight the urge to do so. His eyelid fluttered under the soft touch of your bottom lip, but he didnt wake. You let your index finger travel over his dark eyebrows. They were shaped so perfectly, matching his piercing eyes and the slight circles underneath them. His body was still stressed out from work. His fragile body which was trying so hard not to break down while starving.

His stomach problems caused by his meds was another thing you had to work through. You looked at the bowl on the table. he almost finished his soup today, which was a good sign. You smiled, got up from your knees and walked to his desk to get the empty cups of coffee from the morning. It was time to make the dishes.

But the moment you grabbed the cups his journal distracted you. It was opened. You wondered about his last entries, the ones he wanted to show you because he wrote some new poems lately.

It took you a moment to think about if it was even okay to have a look at the opened page but it was already too late. One sententence was marked, the letters thicker than the rest of the written words. It caught your eye without a warning. And when you read it, your heart stopped for a second.

"I just hope my death makes more cents than my life"

Why?

Why the hell would he write something cruel like that?

The letters started to blurr through your tears. One tear was falling upon the page. Right on the word HOPE.

Shit. Now he would notice that you came near this page. You nerveausly grabbed a handkerchief and pressed it on the spot where the tear was soaking through the page. It was too late, making it look even worse.

You started to cry , throwing the handkerchief on the floor.

Why?

Yo thought he was getting better. There was so much proof.

Did he felt like his life was worthless?

Didnt make any sense?

Was he feeling like all of this wasnt making sense?

You thought you helped him.

Was it al in your mind? His proress? Him becoming a happier version of himself? Was it all a lie you told yourself?

The possibility of Arthurstill being the same tortured soul as when you met him simply broke your heart.

Why was a beautiful and gentle soul like him suffering so much? How cruel can the world be to him?

Was he still wishing he was dead? Was he still lying in bed at night, fantasizing about ending his own life? Would he ever hurt himself again? Risking to being locked up at Arkham, so there was no chance to share a bed together? Just visits with him being handcuffed on the other side of the table? Was there still a chance he was that unhappy inside?

Tears fell like rain.

The pain inside your heart grew with every thought that crossed your mind. If life was still torture to him, why wouldnt he talk about this to you? Didnt he trusted you enough? Was he embarrassed about how he felt? Or was it simply because he didnt wanted you to get worried about his condition?

It was all too much.

You started to feel like your throath was getting tighter. Like the walls were closing in. Everything inside of you screamed. There was this nameless fear inside of your guts. Possesing you, hurting you. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

Dizzyness overcame you with all its power. Cold sweat. All of the sudden the happiness you felt while watching him sleep was being sucked out of your body. And now all you knew was fear. Liek it was the only emotion left in the world. Pure, naked fear in its rawest form.

A panic attack.

You had experienced this before but never this intense.

You sat down on the chair, trying not to look at the opened journal again. It hurt so much. All of it did. Your body. Your heart. Mostly your heart. And your head. Both heavy from tears and the thought of Arthur being suicidal.

Your breathing got heavier as you started to sobb.

And then you heard Arthurs footsteps. His naked feet on the floor. You woke him up. He was finally resting and you woke him. This made you feel even worse.

"Oh my god Y/N, darling. What happened?" He noticed your tears and heavy breathing.

"Dont worry....Arhur....please....just go back to sleep okay? You need your sleep. You`ve been working hard today...."

Arthur checked your pulse "Oh shit, your heart is racing. Did you took any medication? "

"No..."

"Did something else happen?" He checked your forehead, noticed your shaking hands. "Looks like you`re having a panic attack. I know the symptoms very well. I had so many in the past when I woke up from nightmares."

You nodded. Still sobbing like a baby. Arthur gave you one of his handkerchiefes and started to stroke your hair "Oh darling, I kow this feels terrible. But it will pass. Just try to breathe. Breathe with me okay. Remember when you helped me breathe during my laughing fits? I will do the same with you now okay?"

"Okay"

Arthur lifted you up and carried you to the couch.

"Is that okay? Is it comfortable?" you nodded. He was so caring it broke your heart. He cared so much about you, while inside he was suffering from so much pain.

He positioned himself behind you, resting both of his hands on your tummy and told you to breathe in and out like he did. Until you felt your breath becoming one with his. Just as calm and deep.

"Good" he whispered, his gentle fingers under your shirt. He knew that skin on skin contact helped calming you down.

"You`re doing great" his voice was everything you needed to hear.

"Oh Arthur....I feel like I cant breathe...."

"Shhhhhhtt.....baby I know. I know how it feels. Your body is telling you lies. You can breathe. Just do it with me."

"You felt Arthurs chest lifting up and down, his warm breath in your neck. He was everything to you. You needed him to be happy.

Arthur placed thoughtful kisses all over your neck. As soft as a butterflies wings. You tried to concentrate on the details. His long , dark eyelashes crossing the spot behind your ears. The tip of his nose tickeling you. His muffled "I love you`s".

"I`m sorry I woke you up"

"Dont be!"

"There was this sudden fear coming over me. It was like....I thought I was dying."

"I´m right here with you Y/N. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise!"

You nodded. Knowing he was right. Nothing could harm you with Arthurs arms around you. You just wished it was the same the other way around. Wasnt it the same?

His journal said it wasnt. His written words hitting you like a knife.

"Do you know what triggered this?" He asked you, while his hand was caressing your chest.

Should you tell him? He would notice the wet spot on his journal page anyway.

"Arthur I am so scared to tell you this but...I was ...oh god....I was looking at your opened diary page. It was lying on teh table when I was getting the coffee cups and there was this sentence that caught my eyes......" you started to sobb uncontrolable.

"What page?" he asked "Please dont cry. Ohhhhhh please ...." he pulled you closer to his chest so his heartbeat was pressed against you.

"You wrote....."I just hope my death makes more cents than my life...." Arthur. This hit me so hard. I didnt knew you still felt like this. I dont know.....what to say....I`m just.......oh Arthur....." you pressed yourself against him as if your life depended on it. Arthurs white shirt was now soaked with tears.

"Ohhh nooo darling. That was my old journal. My therapist wanted to bring it back to her to proof how much progress I made since I met you!"

You loosened your embrace to look him in the eyes "W-What?"

"Yeah" he shrugged "I just marked the darkest pages to see how far we have come and stopped at this one before going to sleep."

The weight of the world was falling off your shoulders "Really?"

"Yes.....oh Y/N I am so sorry you had to go through these emotions just because I was so stupid to leave my old journal lying on the table. "

"You are not stupid Arthur!"

"Well this time I was"

"It was my fault....I shouldnt have looked at the page in the first place".

The air was finally coming back. Your body was starting to relax again.

Arthur held you close in his arms "That was the old me. And yes sometimes I´m still having dark thoughts but its just.....echoes from the past. Its not part of our reality anymore. Its just ghosts. They`re not real. Just trying to tell me lies. So I am not listening to them . I´m listening to you. To your words of love and comfort. I`m save with you. And you are save with me. Remember?"

"I remember Arthur. I love you so much!"

"I love you more"

"Thats impossible" you smiled, kissing his upper lip.

Arthur rested his head in the crook of your neck whispering "If I`ve learned one thing from being loved, its this: Nothing`s impossible - with you in my arms".

@impulsiveclown @will-you-be-there @jokerownsmysoul @missjoker96 @arthurskitten @lynnesm @nonnymousse @gwynplaine89 @ajokeformur-ray@damnrightobsessedwithim @sgtsavoytruffle @duhliriouss @flowerglitterwoman @thirstforfleck @spookyhome @iartsometimes @you-cant-cry-in-here @bustafatclownnut @jokerismyhubbie @check-out-this-joker @darknessisafriend @arthurhappyclown @neon-umbrella-for-stella @call-me-harley-quinn @arthurjokersgirl

@aarthurfleckk @mylovelycrazyworld @clownalog @ajokerfangirl @the-one-who-is-chaos @sabrinaeileensnape @raven-romanoff

45 notes · View notes

wizardofrozz · 3 years ago

Text

The Perfect Pair

Warnings: swearing, mention of past trauma, mention of child abuse, mention of past sexual assult

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: I’m sorry it took me a few days to post the next chapter, but I’ll be back to updating regularly! *Memories and character thoughts are in italics*

Please read with caution! There is mention of sensitive and triggering topics in this chapter, beware please.

_____________________________________________________________

Chapter 5: Welcome to Asgard

(Violet)

I groaned, rolling on my side; the sudden weightlessness made me fumble to catch myself. I blinked a few times, trying to figure out where I was; I stared down at the painfully white floor I was kneeling on. My head shot up, trying to make sense of my surroundings; an odd orange, translucent barrier surrounded three of the four walls to the room. What the fuck? I got to my feet and realized there were creatures in similar rooms all around me; I wandered closer to the barrier but knew better than to touch it. I glanced to my right and realized that there was another figure about six rooms away from me; it finally occurred to me I was in prison, but I had no idea where. “Hello?” I called to the figure at the end of the row of cells. They stayed lying on their back as if they didn’t hear me; I pushed my conscious away, traveling through the barriers between us. As I got closer, the creature's features got clearer; dark hair, pale skin, high cheek bones. “Loki?” I said louder this time; he moved slightly. He shifted on the bed he was lying on, his eyes finally starting to open; I expected to see surprise, but he only sighed, closing his eyes again. “Loki,” I moved closer, his head snapping in my direction. “Vi?” he whispered, scrambling to his feet. “Please tell me you aren’t really here too,” he sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Look to your left, dear,” I huffed. I watched his head turn, his eyes falling on my body before letting out a deep sigh and looking back at my projection again. “What the hell happened, Loki? Where are we?” I asked anxiously. “Welcome back to Asgard, little one. We’re in the prison near the castle,” Loki scrubbed his face with both hands. “What happened?” I growled, racking my brain for memories. “I don’t know exactly; I remember trying to get the tesseract back but not much else. I remember the Avengers, so I’m assuming my brother wanted us locked up here,” he rolled his eyes, wandering towards his small bed again. “Great, so we’re stuck here,” I threw my arms up, groaning. “Trapped is a better word. I’m surprised you could project yourself here. I guess they only block my magic so strongly. I can only use it in my cell. Yours is just different enough so you can do some things outside the barrier,” Loki tried to smile, but it just left a thin line on his face. “Fuck, so now what,” I asked, my shoulders sagging. “Get comfortable, darling,” Loki breathed.

///

Time seemed to pass differently underground, but maybe that had to do with having no sunlight and no idea how many days had passed. I spent most of the time sending my projection to Loki’s cell, where we would talk, he’d read to me, or we’d just sit there, silent. Loki and I shared much more with each other as the time passed, bonding more than we had in the almost year we were running around together. *** Loki and I sat against the wall, shoulders touching as Loki stared into space and I traced the pattern of the barrier surrounding us with my eyes. “You never did tell me what you meant on the roof in New York?” Loki suddenly said. “What?” Loki’s sudden question threw me off; I racked my brain as I tried to remember what I said that day, but everything blurs together. “When your father was dropped on the roof, you said something that deeply bothered me. You brushed it off and told me you’d fill me in later. Will you tell me now?” Loki whispered, shifting his gaze towards me. The mention of my father made me realize what Loki was referring to; I shifted uncomfortably next to him, trying to swallow around the lump forming in my throat. “Yes, that. Well, what more should I say?” I huffed, curling in on myself. I risked a glance up at Loki, swallowing a gasp; the openness that radiated off Loki was jarring. I’ve never seen him look as open and accepting as he did in that moment. “Uh, well. My mother was captured and assaulted during an attack on Jotunheim; when she was rescued and brought home, she was with child. Me. My father assured her that he would be there no matter what, and he was, but he didn’t love me like his own. He was disgusted by me, but that didn’t stop him from doing the things he did.” I pulled my knees against my chest, desperately trying to ward off the flashbacks of my childhood. “You mean, he….” Loki trailed off, unsure of what words to use. “Yes. When I said preference, I assume you understand what I meant by that.” “I-I can’t believe…who would do something like that?” Loki’s voice was harsh; I could feel the anger and tension that filled the room. “As I said in New York, he wasn’t the only one I knew of. It was like they had a secret group,” I mumbled, resting my chin on my knees. I fought back the bile that stung at the back of my throat as I focused my eyes on the floor. “Disgusting. Foul pigs. I can’t even think of a word to describe that,” Loki spat, venom dripping from every word. “I’m aware, but it’s over now. I watched his heart pump the last bit of life out of him on that roof. If anything, that was too peaceful for him,” I laughed dryly. “I wish you would have told me before….” Loki trailed off again, nervously picking at his nails. “Why would that have changed how you treated me?” I snapped, turning to look at him. Pain and guilt flashed across Loki’s face, his eyes drifting shut for a moment; he puffed out a quick breath before looking at me again. “…Yes. Physical injuries heal, but psychological wounds run deep; they latch on and never let go. I don’t strive to cause you psychological pain. I don’t want to hurt you that deeply.” I wanted to scoff at his admission, but I realized he honestly didn’t want to cause me that kind of pain; all the injuries and pain Loki may have caused me has never been an attack on my mind. “I wanted to say you’re lying, but I can’t think of a time that you said anything to poke those wounds,” I muttered, hoping to find something in my memories that contradicted my statement. “Everyone has their demons, including me. I don’t like my demons poked; therefore, I avoid doing it to others.” Loki smiled softly when I turned my face towards him; sometimes, I wondered what it would be like if we met differently. Would we have traditionally fallen in love instead of the fucked up emotional situation we constantly battle? *** “We haven’t fought in a while.” Loki's sudden statement yanked me out of the memory. “I know, but it’s hard to fight when I feel so helpless,” I whispered. “I know. I can’t say I dislike you as much anymore,” Loki laughed dryly. “I’ve grown to enjoy your company,” I smiled tightly at him, realizing how tired I was. “Darling, you look tired. You’ve been in here a while. Go get some rest,” Loki urged. “Goodnight, dear,” I smiled sadly at Loki, snapping my consciousness back to my body, collapsing on my bed. /// When I woke up again, I stared at the ceiling, wishing there was a way out of this shithole. I took a deep breath and pushing my consciousness towards Loki, I found him sitting on the floor, reading a book, but something seemed off. “Loki?” I whispered. “Hello darling,” he said, keeping his eyes on the book. I felt something odd in the air, realizing Loki was using magic to hide something; I closed my eyes and focused as hard as I could. I found the crack in his shield; I blew out the magic filling the room. “No!” Loki screamed. I opened my eyes and saw the true horror he was hiding; his cell was trashed, everything was thrown in different directions, broken. It looked like he went berserk, smashing everything in sight; my eyes landed on where he was sitting, the clean, put-together image of Loki was shattered. He was sitting against the wall, his clothes disheveled and torn, his hair was wild, and his eyes were bloodshot, tears still rolling down his cheeks. “Oh Loki, what happened?” I whispered, kneeling next to him. He had a faraway look in his eyes as if he didn’t even hear me speaking. “Honey,” I tried again. “My mother’s gone,” he said so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. “No, she can’t be,” I cried. “She can’t be gone,” I mumbled, tears filling my eyes. “Dark elves,” Loki muttered, still staring at nothing. “That’s not possible. They were locked away years ago,” I stated. “Thor’s human found the Aether. It woke them again. My mother’s gone because of a fucking human,” Loki finished with a growl. “Don’t blame her,” I snapped at him; he finally looked at me. “I do,” he said, anger swirling in his eyes. “It’s not her fault, and you know it. Your mother would’ve done the same thing if she was an Asgardian woman. Don’t blame a human for what the Dark Elves did.” I reached out to him, my hand fazing through his. “I can’t even find comfort in you,” his voice was strained, fighting off tears. I plopped down next to Loki; we sat for hours, crying, stewing in the overwhelming sorrow. “Brother?” Thor’s voice broke through the crushing anguish. “What happened? How are you in here?” his gaze falling on me. “I’m not, at least not really,” my voice cracked slightly. “Ah, brother, come to watch my descent into madness?” Loki let out a dry laugh. “I came to ask you for help,” Thor shifted his weight nervously. “You must be really desperate to come to me, brother,” Loki spat at Thor. “Loki, behave, hear him out,” I warned, shooting him a glare. “I need a passage away from Asgard to draw Malekith out before he causes more damage here. I need your help,” Thor pleaded. “What could you possibly have that would make me want to help?” Loki raised an eyebrow at him. “Can’t you just do it because Mother would want you to?” Thor shot back. “Classy brother, use our mother against me,” Loki’s expression was dark, angry. �� “If you do this, you won’t have to come back here,” Thor took a step closer. Loki looked right at his brother before locking eyes with me; I knew he wouldn’t leave if that were the offer. “No deal, brother,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “I won’t leave you to rot here,” he was talking to me now. “Loki, I need your help. I will try to release her when you hold up your end of the deal. Please take the deal,” Thor pleaded with his brother. “He’ll do it,” I said, keeping Loki’s gazed locked on mine. “You don’t speak for me,” he growled at me. “I don’t care. You’re not giving up on getting out of here because of me,” I shot him a look before turning to Thor. “He’ll do it. I hope you’d consider letting me out because he’s helping. I won’t let the fact that he cares for me get in the way of him working towards being a better person,” I sighed, waiting for Thor’s response. “Bold of you think he loves you,” Thor raised an eyebrow at me. “I never claimed he loves me. That doesn’t mean I want him to be stuck here,” I muttered flatly. “I care for him, and he cares for me,” I sighed. “And there’s a difference between the two?” Thor looked back and forth between us. “Yes,” I spat. “Now, just take his help,” I narrowed my eyes. “I’ll be back for you brother,” Thor looked around me before walking off. “Is there a difference?” Loki mumbled. “I think so. I still have the urge to hurt you at times,” I laughed hoarsely. “Oddly enough, I do too,” he laughed; it sounded almost normal again. “Maybe that’s how we love,” I whispered. “I’d still kill you, but I’d prefer not to,” I chuckled. “The only person that I cared about as much as you was my mother. I loved her very much. So maybe I do love you,” Loki whispered, staring at his hands. “I’ve wondered the same thing. Whatever we feel isn’t like everyone else,” I whispered. “I love you, darling, as much as I’m capable of,” he whispered, reaching for my hand. “I love you too, my dear, as much as I’m capable of,” I whispered back, my hand fazing through his, a sob bubbling out of my chest. I plopped down on the floor next to him, trying to hold back tears. “Darling, you look tired already,” Loki’s head lolled towards me. “I am; breaking your magic was hard,” I whispered, feeling myself struggling to stay. “Go, it’s okay,” Loki reassured before I slipped out of his cell.

____________________________________________________________

Series Masterlist | Chapter 6

Taglist:

@criminalyetminimal @kendallthesimp @marvelfansworld

7 notes · View notes

alolowrites · 4 years ago

Text

After All These Years

Summary: After being apart for six years, you wonder if you are ready to see Toshinori again.

Tag: @centerhabit (Tagging you as promised! Sorry for the long wait!)

Author’s Note: It is finally here! After four months (I think?), I finally finished writing the sequel for The Point of No Return. For anyone who is new, I highly recommend you read that story first! Apologies for taking a long time getting this story out; I was playing around with a new formatting style.

Once again, I appreciate the incredible response The Point of No Return received from everyone! I’m still touched by all the comments, likes, reblogs, etc it got!! Thank you once again!!

Without further ado, please enjoy the story!

Word Count: 2.3K+

Six years.

It’s been six long years since you’ve returned home.

Stepping off the plane, you bow at the flight attendant and follow the crowd through the gray tunnel. You find your luggage with ease and quietly walk away. Various shops appear, each selling items travelers needed last minute; one man rushes inside to buy a neck pillow while a woman debates between two beverages.

There’s one store that catches your eye with its colorful display. Hero merchandise spews out the door as pop music plays to lure interested customers into the shop. A familiar color scheme stands out from the rest, tugging your heartstrings a bit too harshly; the imaginary marionettist enjoys seeing you suffer.

“I AM HERE!”

You jump from your spot. The famous phrase repeats and you look below to see a little girl squeezing the All Might plushie toy with glee. She skips away, the toy dangling in her hand and All Might’s comical smile mocking you until it disappears into the crowd. Not even thirty minutes in Japan and already you are regretting your decision.

No, no. You can do this.

You had more than enough time to heal from the pain. At least that’s what you tell yourself to soothe the nerves squirming around. You push them aside. As much as you enjoyed your stay in America, you missed Japan; it is your real home. No matter how far you travel from the island, a part of you stays behind.

And it’s that part of you which holds you back from ultimately moving on. A shuffling noise grabs your attention. An employee proudly adjusts a life-size cardboard cutout of All Might outside the store, and a few tourists stop to admire him. Despite not being real, you feel his eyes stare deep into your soul; your fingers twitch and your skin suddenly becomes itchy. Sighing, you drag your feet down the hall to find the exit.

You need a drink.

—

Glass cups clink over the loud noise bursting inside the restaurant. Laughter erupts at the table after you shared a hilarious story during your time in the States. The mood is lively and relaxing as you savor the rich sake flavor exploding in your mouth like fireworks. Oh, how you missed these fun outings with your friends. Seconds later, a waiter passes by with actual fireworks fizzling on a delicious looking plate. It must be someone’s birthday today.

Your eyes follow the plate and blink. Peeking out from a distance are strands of blonde hair. They are like a batch of wild yellow wheatgrass flowing in the meadow. Someone’s large frame is blocking the view. Another waiter brings more appetizers to your table, but you ignore the food begging for your attention. Nothing matters except for the hair currently teasing you from afar. It can’t be him…right?

You stop breathing when the boulder moves, and you're disappointed. It's just a random stranger laughing into a guy's shoulder. You slump back against the booth. The sake is clouding your mind and making you see things. Maybe you need some fresh air; it is getting kind of stuffy in this dimly lit sauna.

Just as you stand, the whole restaurant rattles. You grip the table as the lights sway and flicker uncontrollably. Confused murmurs buzz in the air until the building shakes again with greater force. Dust puffs out from the ceiling, and tiny cracks spread through the walls. Everyone rushes outside, the streets filled with headless chickens panicking like no tomorrow. You grab onto your friend’s hand for dear life to avoid getting separated.

The vibrant district spirals into chaos as the screams deafen your loud heartbeat. You have no idea where the crowd is going nor what is happening. You are a fish who got caught in a net trap with no way to escape. Suddenly the madness stops, and a live shot appears on the large TV above you. Glowing on the screen is a bloody All Might fighting against the incarnation of evil itself. As the battle rages on, you stumble forward when you see him.

Toshinori Yagi. The man behind the All Might mask.

You watch in horror as Toshinori—in his real, but weak form—persisted on with the fight. Grown men wail in pure agony that their throats turn red. A woman desperately bites her fingers that she almost chews them off. The tension in the air is so palpable that it suffocates you. Clutching your shirt, you hopelessly witness the bloodshed battle getting progressively worse until a miracle happens.

Toshinori rises from the ashes to deliver the final blow. It rocks the entire ground and makes everyone lose their footing; even the TV screen flickers, but doesn’t lose the picture. When the black smoke clears, you see Toshinori is alive with a victorious fist in the air.

He won.

That’s the last thing you remember before passing out in your friend’s arms.

—

A rainstorm hurls through the city.

The water droplets lightly tap on your black umbrella, the noise surprisingly soothing to your ears that you almost fall into a small trance. A bright light illuminates half of your face, exposing the conflict swirling through your eyes. One car rushes down the street, and you go back to avoid the tsunami wave coming from the sidewalk.

Once the coast is clear, you walk forward but stop when you reach the sidewalk’s edge. You can’t go beyond this point. You’re afraid you’ll drown, not from mini sea emerging on the road, but from your guilt that is deeper than an oceanic trench.

The hospital’s bright lights glare back at you. Toshinori is in one of those rooms recovering from the severe wounds he received days ago. As much as you want to visit him, see him in person, hold him in your arms…you just can’t. Not when you feel so guilty for leaving him six years ago in roughly the same state—a damaged hero.

You grip the umbrella’s handle. Someone calls your name.

Whipping around, you relax at the sight of a tan overcoat standing a few feet behind. The man walks over and dips his chin to greet you. “Welcome back. It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Detective Tsukauchi.” Your lips curve into a faint smile. “How’s work treating you? Still hectic as ever?”

“Crime never sleeps,” he jokes, and you two chuckle. The rain furiously falls all around you, drowning out the brief happiness you felt. Tsukauchi gazes at the hospital. “You should visit him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate seeing you again.”

“I can’t. Not after what I did to Toshinori six years ago.” Your chest tightens as you fight back the tears. “There’s no way he’ll forgive me after I broke his heart.”

A hand squeezes your shoulder. Watery eyes stare up to meet Tsukauchi’s reassuring smile, the warmth shielding you from the cold rain pouring down. He murmurs, “Something tells me he will.”

You stare back at the hospital; a light turns off, and you wonder if that is Toshinori's room. Tsukauchi’s words echo through your head like a soft chant. You shuffle forward and stick one boot out on the street; it hovers above the fast stream running toward the drain. With a deep sigh, you pull the foot back and hang your head low.

You couldn’t do it.

—

Toshinori adjusts his arm sling until he’s comfortable.

Despite being sickly frail, he feels the bed mattress sink under the weight of his heavy thoughts. He hasn’t been the same since the Kamino incident. The power of One for All no longer flows through his veins, making him feel like an empty vessel. Toshinori was the Symbol of Peace—the strongest hero in the world. Now he is a retired hero after defeating All for One, for good this time. Yet Toshinori wonders if this is all just a dream. The sharp pain shooting down his arm convinces him otherwise.

It will take time for Toshinori to get used to his new life.

A soft knock interrupts his thoughts. Toshinori glances at the door with furrowed eyes; he’s not expecting any visitors today. The doctor medically cleared him this morning.

“Come in,” Toshinori answers, fixing his arm sling. The person enters, and he glances up only to do a double-take; his blue eyes land on you, mouth agape in astonishment. Sitting straight on the bed, he chokes out your name and asks, “Is it really you?”

“Hi, Toshi,” you weakly smile, putting aside the wet umbrella as you calmly approach him. “It is me. Do you mind if I sit here?”

He numbly shakes his head as you take a seat on the chair. The dam bursts, and all his memories of you swarm at him like a massive tidal wave. Toshinori endures the brutal force even if he nearly drowns on the spot. He blinks and notices something off about you. You’re smiling, but your eyes tell a different story. They are empty and full of despair as if you are in mourning; it worries Toshinori very much.

An awkward silence falls between you two. Your finger anxiously scratches the chair’s armrest while Toshinori’s feet shuffle on the floor. Every ounce of your self-confidence goes down the drain the longer you stay quiet. Guess that pep-talk you did outside moments ago had a time limit. You bite the bullet by breaking the silence.

“How are you feeling?”

“To be honest with you, broken.” There’s a brief pause before he profoundly sighs, “And also a bit lost.”

“I know what you mean.” Toshinori’s ear twitches at your whisper and snaps his head up. You squirm under his intense gaze. Your eyes roam to the gauzes tightly wrapped around his injuries he received from the fight; it gives you a deja vu moment. You clench the armrest, the guilt eating you alive. “I’m sorry…”

The hero frowns. “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything—”

“Yes, I did! I left you, Toshi!” He hears the pure anguish tainting your voice as watery eyes come into view. With quivering lips, you croak, “When you proposed to me, I accepted it knowing fully well the sacrifices you must make for the greater good. Yet, I got scared after you decided to go down the path that might result in your death and just…abandoned you. You trusted me, loved me, and I left you.”

A tear rolls down your cheek, which breaks Toshinori’s heart.

“I thought I made the right choice by staying far away,” you whimper, hands curling into fists on your lap. “But the longer I did, the more it hurts me knowing your inevitable fate was getting closer.”

Toshinori unconsciously scoots closer to you, ignoring the pain shooting from his sensitive wounds; they don’t matter to him right now. He opens his mouth to speak, but stops. Out of nowhere, you shoot up from the chair and stand in front of the retired hero.

“I was in Kamino the night you fought All for One, probably nearby too. When I saw you, the real you, on TV and at death's doorstep, I-I just thought about the day at the hospital six years ago. During that moment, I realized one important thing…”

Your body trembles as you unleash everything with a swift but powerful confession that leaves him speechless.

“I still love you, Toshinori. I always have, and I always will. If you had died on that night before I had the chance to say this—”

You choke as your throat goes dry…

…and then break down, crying into your hands.

The intense feelings you kept buried deep inside your heart finally manifest into the light. No one knew you carried this agony for so long. Toshinori grunts as he stands up from the bed and carefully comforts you with his good arm. He holds you close, not caring if your tears bleed through his white shirt and wet his bandages.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your ear. “I’m sorry for making you feel this way. It was never your fault; if anything, it was mine. I’ve made many mistakes throughout my life. However, my biggest mistake was losing you.”

He steps back to graze your damped cheek gently. His fingertips twitch as they remember the softness of your skin. You close your eyes and enjoy his feathery touches.

“I should have fought harder for you, for us, all those years ago.” Toshinori bores his majestic blue eyes into yours. They are alive and filled with deep admiration for you. “Despite what happened, just know that I love you, and I never stopped loving you. Not once.”

Your heart skips a beat while his throbs like a steady bass drum. He reaches inside his pocket, and you gasp when you see the engagement ring shining against the light. It’s the same one you left behind all those years ago.

“Although my time on Earth may be dwindling, I hope to cherish every last second I have with you. It’s still your choice, but…” Toshinori clears his throat and grasps your left hand. Determination swirls inside his eyes while asking, “Will you accept this ring and marry me?”

“Yes.”

You squeeze his hand as elation surges throughout your body. Toshinori slips the ring on your finger, the cold metal snugging around your skin. Oh, how you missed the feeling of it after six long years. Without hesitation, he captures your lips for a sweet but passionate kiss; the pain washes away and you are giddy.

Pulling away to rub your eyes, you pout, “I probably look like a mess.”

“Nonsense, you look beautiful.”

“Always the charmer,” you playfully tease, sniffling a little. A ray of sunlight shines through the windows, basking the whole room in a warm, golden glow. With soft eyes, you caress his cheek and smile. “Now how about we get out of here and take a nice stroll through the park, for old times’ sake?”

“I would love that.”

It’s as if nothing has changed between you two after all these years.

As always, thank you for reading!

#toshinori yagi x reader #all might x reader #toshinori yagi #all might #all might imagine #bnha toshinori yagi #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha imagines #the point of no return #sequel

152 notes · View notes

honeyhan-123 · 4 years ago

Text

The Artist ~ II

Summary: When Steve meets the reader at an art class he immediately becomes enticed and maybe, just maybe, she can help heal his wounded heart.

Warnings: Lil’ bit of angst/previous heartbreak

Word Count: 3.2k

AN: Here it is! The next chapter of The Artist! Thank you so much to everyone for their feedback. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get the next chapter out by next Saturday as I have a uni exam on the Friday but I’ll try.

As usual, a massive thank you to @imanuglywombat for the beautiful moodboard and @magdaleneruth for being an exceptional beta.

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Part One

II.

Despite the serum making him run hotter than most, harsh temperatures always managed to seep under his skin. The cold wind nipped at Steve, sending a chill down his spine, he’d spent enough time on ice for one lifetime.

Days like these reminded him of those nights, when he’d tuck in next to Bucky. Most of the time they hadn’t been able to afford heating—when things made a turn for the worse, Bucky would crawl in next to him, cocooning him in his arms, sharing his body warmth.

Steve had struggled for a long time after the first of those nights. A mixture of emotions has swirled inside him and he had no idea what to do, let alone what to think or how to feel about it. He felt lost.

Bucky was his one constant—the one person he could come to, always. Who could he turn to when he, himself, was the catalyst?

Maybe it was wrong by old world sensibilities. He didn’t see it. He didn’t care, not really. Not when the even beating of Bucky’s heart thumped against his back as he drifted into a peaceful slumber.

It was only years later, during the war when Steve had met Peggy and found that same solace that he had realised what it meant.

Steve shuddered against the wind, curling himself further into his jacket, trying to wrap it around him tighter as though it would help him purge those memories from his mind.

He heard a sound before he felt the impact—catching against his chest, it almost clapped against his coat. Digging his hands from his pockets, he grabbed the paper. He could barely make out the heading as the wind kept folding it over, this way and that, obscuring his sight of the blasted thing.

When he finally managed it, his face broke out into a smile.

Calling All Art and Wine Lovers. Do you love art? Do you also love wine? Come down to Roman’s Bar for a night of painting with accompanying wines. Entry fee $25. Drinks and easels are supplied but feel free to bring your own.

He skimmed the rest of the flyer to find the first session was happening Monday night. it would only be painting a fruit bowl or something like that, but for some inexplicable reason Steve felt compelled to go. It almost felt like fate that he’d happened upon that flyer. Not that he put much stock into that.

Maybe he could convince Sam to go with him… maybe Bucky? He had always been interested in Steve’s art back in the day. It might even help him feel more like himself. Steve knew he hadn’t been adjusting very well since coming back from Wakanda, since that conversation. The world still felt so new and different and he hardly trusted himself due to his days as the Winter Soldier.

With his mind made up, Steve strolled through the city streets, a new found warmth blooming in his chest and a smile on his face.

‘I’m not sure, Steve. I was never that good at art like you.’

It was Sunday evening that Steve had finally decided to broach the idea of drunken painting with Bucky.

‘You don’t have to be, Bucky! That’s why this is so perfect. I can guarantee you it will be a relaxed night of drinking some wine and painting a couple of pieces of fruit. It’ll be fun.’ Steve could see him mulling over his words, his brows pulled close into a frown.

‘What if they recognise me, though? That’s a great way to ruin everyone’s night.’

‘Bucky.’ Steve clasped a hold of the brunet’s shoulder, forcing him to look into his eyes. ‘Everyone knows it wasn’t you in Vienna and everyone knows you weren’t in control for all those years before.’

It broke his heart to hear his best friend talk so dismissively about himself. He tried not to let it show on his face when Bucky shrugged his hand off of his shoulder.

‘I think it will be really good for you, getting out, you know? Letting people see the real you. You’re an Avenger, Buck. You can’t hide away forever.’

‘I don’t even know who the real me even is anymore.’

‘Then this is a perfect starting point. You can find out if you like drinking wine and painting.’

Maybe he was stretching, but he was just so eager to show him the new world. Bucky had to face the fact that if he continued hiding in the shadows, then rumour mill would only continue to turn.

He was desperate to get his best friend back. Things hadn’t been quite the same since that night. ‘Look, if you hate it, I promise I won’t bug you about going back.’

Steve could tell Bucky still wasn’t a hundred percent sold on the idea, but he nodded. ‘Fine I’ll come. Where the hell are you taking me, Rogers?’

Despite the near perfect mask Bucky’s face wore, Steve could tell he was nervous. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will be fine.’

He let out a sigh that turned to a muttered uh huh before stepping forward and pushing open the frosted glass door.

Steve had no idea what he had been expecting but Roman’s Bar was definitely not it. He couldn’t help but be taken aback. The room was buzzing despite it being a Monday. It looked to be a popular after work hangout for those that lived in the Brooklyn area.

‘Hi there, are you looking for a table for two?’ A handsome man came up to the pair, his voice was deep and flowed like honey. Steve peered at the tag on his chest pocket and read that his name was Miguel.

‘Uh… I’m sorry. I think there’s been a mistake.’

Realisation washed over the man’s face and he nodded in understanding. ‘You’re here for the wine and painting class correct?’ Steve nodded, relieved that he at least wasn’t making a complete fool of himself. ‘Don’t worry, it’s right through here. Most of the painting patrons come in through the side entrance over on J Avenue. I’m sorry for the mistake.’ He led the two men through the heaving crowd and Steve started to get second thoughts.

He had expected a more elderly crowd, similar to the one at Maxine’s class last week, not young twenty-somethings. Yet when Miguel pushed through a velvet curtain at the back of the room, they were led down a small hallway—Steve could see another door leading out onto the street and assumed this was the entrance Miguel had been talking about. They were led through another frost glass door and he was relieved to see a room much more like the one he had been expecting.

It was small, cozy, and slightly old fashioned—a complete contrast to the sleek, modern bar he had just left. They’d only just arrived but Steve already felt right at home. Some soothing Jazz was playing from a record player in one corner of the room, completely drowning out the vibing music that had been pumping out on the main floor of the bar.

‘This is Susanne. She’s the lead instructor for tonight. I hope you fine fellows have a pleasant evening.’ As he turned to start heading back to the main room, Steve could have sworn he saw Miguel wink at him and it sent a rush of excitement through him.

‘Good evening gentlemen. You’re just in time, we were just about to start. The entry fee is $25 each. Will you be paying together or separately?’ Susanne’s voice was soothing and Steve hastily fished a fifty from his pocket.

‘Together, thank you.’

She nodded and took the bill, heading over to a small bar in the back corner of the room.

‘What can I get for you? Would you like a glass of the house white or red? Other options are available, but at an extra cost.’

He shared a look with Bucky before responding. ‘Two of your house reds, thank you.’

‘Of course, dearie.’ She pulled two glasses from underneath the counter and uncorked the bottle. The dark red swirled in the glass as she poured.

Steve thanked her again as he and Bucky took their drinks.

‘If you need a refill at any point just let one of the servers or instructors know. Now it’s nearly eight, so why don’t you grab a seat and we’ll be starting very soon.’ Steve smiled and led Bucky off, searching for a pair of seats together.

The easels were set up in a semi-circle around a stool with a bowl of fruit. There were only two rows and even though the first wasn’t filled yet, Steve headed for the back row, knowing it would make Bucky more comfortable.

Once they were all settled in, Steve pulled his sketchbook from his bag and placed it on the easel. Even though the bar had supplied some utensils, he again opted for his own pencils—this time bringing some coloured ones along.

He could see Bucky’s eyes darting around the room, assessing everything from neighbouring faces to points of entry. It had been so long since he’d been able to rest. Steve just wanted to put him at ease or at least offer him some respite to the memories that plagued him.

He sighed at the thought, having more than enough guilt for them both.

The door swung open, catching Steve’s attention. He felt his jaw go slack at the sight.

There you were. You wore the same button down shirt and jeans as last time and Steve figured they must be your painting clothes. You seemed slightly frantic searching through the crowd, more than relieved to find Susanne as she bustled over to you.

‘I’m so sorry I’m late. Work was hectic, there’s this big case and–’

Susanne cut you off shaking her head with a smile on her face. ‘You don’t have to apologise, darling. You're hardly late, we haven’t even started yet. Just grab a seat and we’ll begin soon.’ You smiled, graciously handing over some cash before taking a seat in the front next to an elderly lady Steve had noticed earlier.

‘Oh! Darling you’re here!’ The woman greeted you excitedly, leaning over to give you a slight hug. ‘I was worried something had happened, you’re normally so punctual.’

‘It was work.’

‘Is that boss of yours giving you a hard time again? I honestly don’t understand why you don’t tell him where he can stick it and just quit.’

A melodic laugh escaped your lips and your eyes crinkled slightly. You smiled further as one of the servers approached, carrying a glass of shimmering white wine. You thanked her by name as you took it.

Clearly you were a regular here.

‘If only, Gladys… but you of all people know how expensive Brooklyn’s gotten to live in.’

She hummed in agreement. ‘It’s nothing like it was in my day. But still, you shouldn’t be stuck behind a desk at a job you hate. You should be out there, showcasing your work. It’s truly remarkable.’

‘I don’t hate my job. Besides, I’ve already been down that road, remember? And failed hard.’ Even in his short time of knowing you, Steve could hear the lie on your voice and felt a pang of sadness for you. ‘That’s what led me to Mr. Barber’s company.’

Gladys nodded and before she could respond, Susanne stepped up by the stool.

‘Hello all and welcome to tonight’s ‘Fine Art and Fine Wine’ class. If everyone has what they need, we should be ready to get started.’ She lifted the red cloth from the table, revealing the bowl beneath. It was a clear glass serving bowl that had blue swirls of ink running through it and inside was an arrangement of autumnal fruits—

Pomegranates. Blood oranges. A passion fruit and some figs, all ornately placed.

At first glance, Steve knew it was a perfect arrangement. It was simple enough that some of the beginners in the class would still be able to manage but had some difficult elements that would offer a challenge for the more seasoned artists.

Brilliant.

Despite the small fragments of chitchat, Steve quickly lost himself to the sketch—capturing the slight green tinge of the passion fruit or the darker hues of pink from the pomegranates.

It was so soothing, just being able to sit and draw, occasionally taking sips of his wine. Even Bucky looked relaxed. Well, nearly… It’s as close to the word he could manage these days.

The hours had flown by all too soon. Still. Steve felt fairly proud of what he had achieved. It had been a while since he had worked with colour, but he felt he had done a decent job of it.

‘So what do you think?’ He asked Bucky as he started packing up the pencils, sorting them neatly into their colours.

‘It was actually okay. I… I had fun.’ Steve looked about ready to pull a muscle in his face with how hard Bucky’s words had him smiling. ‘Don’t start.

‘I didn’t say a word,’ he defended, hands raised in fealty. ‘You just need to be willing to try and put yourself out there. I know it’s hard, but you’ll always have me.’

Maybe it was still too soon. Too fresh after that conversation.

He quickly averted his gaze back to his drawing. Steve felt a pang in his heart and continued to silently pack up, trying desperately not to think back to that night when Bucky had first returned to the tower.

Steve found himself shivering as he stood out on the landing pad, waiting for the quinjet to touch down.

He knew rationally that Bucky still had a long road of recovery ahead of him. He knew this. It didn’t stop Steve from being so relieved to have him here. To have him home.

Maybe this time around, Steve would be the one to be Bucky’s protector. And maybe, once he was ready… If he was ever ready.

Steve hated himself for thinking so selfishly, but he couldn’t help but hold onto that hope.

Hope that in these new modern times, he and Bucky might actually have a chance.

He had greeted Bucky and quickly shown him inside, guiding him through the multiple hallways and staircases until they reached his new apartment.

Steve had made sure it was the one next to his own, wanting him to be as close as possible. He had even gone so far as to temporarily move out of his apartment in Brooklyn for this.

He’d wanted to stick around, help him settle in but when Bucky told him all he wanted to do was sleep, exhausted from the flight as he was, Steve relented.

Later, they said.

Another day, they said…

Only that day never came.

Over the coming weeks, Steve quickly noticed Bucky was avoiding him.

While he was quiet most of the time with the others, he didn’t find some excuse to leave the room whenever they entered like he did with Steve. At first, he just thought Bucky needed time to adjust.

He gave him time.

He gave him space.

But a couple months down the road, they were well into summer with no mention of the rift between them.

He made sure to wait him out until he knew with certainty that Bucky was back from dinner with Sam.

When he heard his familiar rustling the next room over, he tried to push away the pain that things had fallen so off course. Steve hadn’t even been to dinner with him yet.

He glanced at the mirror, taking himself in. Despite the heavy bags that lined the underneath of his eyes, he felt that he had managed to look at least a bit presentable. A final nod before heading out for the night. A final breath before blowing his reality to bits.

He pads next door and knocks.

When the answer came swiftly, Bucky didn’t seem surprised. If anything, he looked as if he’d been expecting him.

‘Come on in.’

‘Your head’s gonna combust if you keep all that fire locked up in there. Say your piece and it just might bring you some.’

‘I thought… I thought things were better.’

‘Things are better. I’m better. But you—’

‘Then what is it? Tell me what’s going on,’ he begs over him. ‘I can feel you pulling away. You can barely stand to be in the same room as me. Please, Buck. Help me understand.’

He was quiet for a beat, just watching Steve come down from getting so worked up. It gave him time to collect himself, collect his thoughts…

‘I know what you want from me. I take one look at you and I know… but I’m not him.’ Steve looked about ready to argue but Bucky raised his hand, begging to finish. ‘You wanted to understand. I’ll never be the same man I was back then and being around you, being with you? It’s painful, Steve. It’s a constant reminder of what was taken from me and how I’ll never be the same.’

‘You can’t say things like that. It’s not true.’

‘Don’t you think it hurts me that I can’t be that for you?’ He gestured all around the room, never wavering. ‘That we could have all of this together and call it a day… Don’t you think I want that rest?’

‘We can work through it. We’ve been through so much together.’ Steve swallowed the lump in his throat, so ready to contest that he doesn’t have to feel the same. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered—he still loved him. ‘We can get through this, too.’

‘Steve…’ Bucky could tell just how painful this was for him but he knew it needed to be said, it needed to be done. ‘There was a time I loved you so much I’d have fought a whole war for you. Love and war… that’s not something you get out of. I’m still fighting.’

Face buried in his hands, Steve swiped at the tears that stained his hot and itching cheeks.

‘Please, Buck… don’t say it. I love you. Here and now. I don’t care about the rest of it,’ he murmured desperately into his palms. ‘I love you.’

‘I know.’

Both men sat in their defeat as the confession faded into silence.

‘He’s gone. I can’t be him and we can’t be together. I know it’s hard but please, please, don’t hate me. You mean so much to me.’

‘I shouldn’t have thought just because you were here with me now—it doesn’t mean anything. I could never hate you. And I would never want to see you in pain… But I can’t just leave you, knowing you’re out there alone as me.’ He drags a hand through his hair, looking anywhere else. ‘We were friends, best friends. We could go back to that, couldn’t we?’

‘Of course, punk.’ He clapped his back and hoped it wasn’t too much, too soon. ‘Best friends.’

Even as his heart was breaking, Steve managed a small smile. It was a far cry from ideal, but if it kept Bucky in his life, he was prepared to bite the bullet if that’s what it took.

Despite the smiles and promises, things would never be the same after that. Not really…

Tags will be added in a reblog

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #bucky barnes #captain america #marvel #mcu #the winter soldier

116 notes · View notes

indurarinks · 3 years ago

Text

the mardi gras conundrum

( 9. ) “Acheron?” Beyond mere passing curiosity, it was the urgency supporting Bonnie’s need to understand the man sitting behind the wheel of his ridiculously expensive car that scalded her tongue. He was ever evasive, enigmatic and rarely straightforward where his past was concerned. But none of it quelled her demand to search for the truth. She didn’t seek it for personal gain either, she only sought to soothe the battle-weary hearts of her hunters. During the long weeks of bonding with each one of them, Bonnie convinced herself their inner peace was too valuable to be overlooked. Neither was the sharing type yet she was determined to help them heal wounds inflicted centuries ago, in a time innocence still characterised their human lives. And only the deepest betrayal could taint it. Riding in comfortable silence, Bonnie suspected the indecipherable Dark Hunter would resort to the infamous technique called feigned indifference where he pretended not to hear her while she would be forced into accepting his choice for silence. Stoic, and his features impassive, Acheron Parthenopaeus held all the charisma in the universe with full lips pressed against one another into a thin line. His gaze seemed focused on the road but behind that wall of opacity from his shades, Bonnie couldn’t be certain. And if her senses were correct, then he was, most definitely, eyeing her with the stealth of a predator. She felt the burn of his gaze on her. “Back at the comp—“ He sighed. As if the weight of the world had been dropped on his shoulders. “You want to know.” He interrupted her train of thought. “About the... incident from earlier.” The wilderness that rolled naturally from the contained storm of his voice offered her familiar security. A balm to her soul, she would never grow weary of it. It was almost as if he could read her innermost thoughts. And though she knew Dark Hunters possessed different gifts, Acheron seemed to be the rarity to that rule. The odd one out. Kyrian once told her he was the first one to be created. And she figured that was why he shared similar abilities to those of his brethren. Perhaps Kyrian and him were even more alike than her initial evaluation, conducted on the spot, back in Sanctuary when she first met Ash. Their personalities, however, differed significatively. “I—I probably can’t imagine...” she started but her words lost their direction when Acheron steered the Porsche into a new destination. No longer on their way toward the Garden District, it wouldn’t be long until Bonnie recognised St. Louis Cemetery’s aged iron gates. The car came to a stop near its old entrance. And without another word, he vacated the cramped space to welcome the fresh air of February. At first, Bonnie didn’t dare moving. She was paralysed in fear, mostly. The waters in which she swam were dangerous and treacherous, she knew of the promise navigating through the past and what it could potentially entail for the one taking a peek, even if brief, into that old chest of memories. She sensed barely contained pain, and worlds of sorrow and unrestrained grief. Outside, Acheron sat on the hood of his car. Alone. His chin slightly raised, it was obvious his gaze was lost to the skies already painted with the light tones of dawn. The night had come fast but the sun showed signs of similar elation for its return. It was now or never, she thought. As she opened the door on her side, left the car and took a seat next to him, Bonnie registered no movement from the embodiment of enigma himself. His shoulders slumped, his gaze finally sought refuge in wide-open doorway to her soul —those forest green eyes he had gotten lost in on multiple occasions before. But Bonnie wasn’t having any of it by allowing him to hide behind the comfort of his ever present shades. Hesitantly, and watching him from beneath curtains of thick lashes, her fingers took possession of his sunglasses as she slowly stripped his eyes naked. She knew what to expect but the gasp of appreciation still escaped. Liquid mercury swam quietly in his eyes as he watched her disarming him. Bonnie was the first and only one to accomplish that since his rebirth. And while he said nothing, a furious tic thrummed visibly along his jaw. She expected the momentary peak of anxiety after the bold exposure of him. A small grin stretching her lips, Bonnie folded his sunglasses and slid them inside her jeans pocket. For the time being, she was holding them hostage. Despite her calm facade, her heart suddenly became a professional gymnast as it did flips back and forth like there was no tomorrow. “It’s okay, Ash. If you prefer to keep your story to yourself,” she interrupted their silence at last. Besides panic and desperation, she was hit with a fathomless wave of grief the likes of which the young witch had never drowned in before. The raw intensity of these emotions flooring her, she was left breathless for several heartbeats. “I just... I hate seeing the torment of your past shadowing the light in your eyes.” Staggering from the onslaught of emotions, tears prickled her eyes. “You’ve been so hurt. I can sense it. I can.” Her chest rose and fell repeatedly. “You still bleed from your wounds. The past still holds you prisoner. And I don’t even know for how long! I can’t imagine the damage that’s caused on your soul.” Disturbed, Bonnie quickly wiped away the disgraceful tears that managed to escape her defences. The gates were now wide open. Beside her, her companion chose immediate silence. Frozen by the prejudice of his past, he walked trough the wastelands of memories without realising her fingers interlocked with his as she slid her palm on top of his massive hand. An earthquake-like tremor shook the whole of him. “It’s eleven thousand years.” He stated matter-of-factly. Surprise and shock registered on her face. It couldn’t be, her meagre knowledge of history told her it wasn’t possible. Yet, the exhaustion etched on his features spoke a whole different tale. “How is tha—?” She started. “That history lesson is too long and complex for tonight.” His gaze wandered to where their fingers stood united, Bonnie’s index finger stroking his knuckles. “And Bonnie? I’m soulless. All Dark Hunters are.” Promptly rolling her eyes, she smacked him on the arm. Like a masochist, he smiled down at her. “Ow.” Acheron massaged his arm, successfully allowing them both a reprieve from the growing tension. “That ought to teach you not to smart-mouth me! You know what I meant. It may not inhabit your body, Ash, but it’s still yours. Still bleeds. I can see it, you know?” The soft, tangent urgency to secure his understanding clung to the breaths expelled. Since the moment she had been brought into their lives, Bonnie had been silently collecting data, studying and gathering every ounce of information about her warriors. Acheron and Kyrian, in particular, as both had been the ones she had spent the most time with. After careful analysis of her research, she was fairly confident Ash loathed the thought of having someone at his back. He even recoiled with the exaggerated proximity of another. With that thought in mind, and wanting to test her theory, Bonnie leaned closer. Purposely invading his personal space. Even though it was minimal and discreet, he drew back. Inside her chest, the thin walls of her beating heart cracked. The desolation mirrored in those pools of mercury laying waste to the fields of her weeping soul. ───Just how much misery has he been put through? Persisting, she tried again. “Back at the Mikaelson’s, before Klaus showed up, you…” With her insides twisting in oceans of anxiety, she lifted her gaze to his face. The urge to see him impossible to bypass. He was now peering right through her. “I know.” Serene but resigned, the direction of his gaze shifted so that he was staring at the horizon whilst pushing closed fists into the pockets of his worn-out leather coat. Soon, the first timid rays of sunshine broke free. Tearing the darkness apart. Had she been sharing this moment with Kyrian, they’d be on their phrenetic way home. As a norm, Dark Hunters were banished from sunlight, yet their leader stood as exception to that rule. Nothing about Acheron Parthenopaeus was ordinary. After several minutes spent in absolute silence, and with a defeated sigh, she rose from the hood of the car and handed him his shades, certain he had murdered the topic and buried its corpse. Her hands tied, Bonnie decided to respect his deafening silence and privacy. “Come on. Let’s face King Stubborn. I can almost hear his tirade from here.” It was her way of letting him know of her decision. “It was my nephew.” Halfway through her march to her side of the car, Bonnie froze. Her curls bounced back and forth with the abrupt movement of her head as she looked back at him. She almost doubted she heard him when he didn’t elaborate. His tone had been so low as well, as if afraid of the damage the words would deliver. Hesitantly, she approached him again. ─── Was Acheron Parthenopaeus finally allowing her to take a peek into the fortress of solitude of his soul? The sunglasses still caged between his fingers, calloused by countless battles, Bonnie found herself peering deeply into the oceans of mercury of his eyes. Saying nothing, the petite woman simply reached for his hand, securing it between her fingers as she gave him a nod of encouragement. “He was murdered while I lay in a drunken stupor in the room next door. His death and my sister’s, his mother, are on me, Bon. Their blood still stains my hands.” Without pretending she was privy to all the details of that tragic night, Bonnie shook her head vehemently. “It wasn’t your fault, Ash. You would probably be killed too if you had gone into their room… And besides, something tells me you weren’t drunk because you felt like partying. You’re not that type. You were drowning. Weren’t you?” She lowered her chin while her thumb and index finger secured his. Turning his head her way, she then forced him to look back at her. “Weren’t you?” Again, she asked. “That’s no excuse, Bonnie.” Rising from his spot on the car hood, the Dark-Hunter swiftly made his way to his side of the car. “I let them die.” With a sense of finality, he tucked himself behind the wheel of his Porsche. But Bonnie couldn’t disregard the raw vulnerability drenching his words. The agony exuding enough to rob the air inside her lungs. Enough to inject her with a weakness capable of driving her to her knees. Leaning over the passenger’s seat, Acheron opened the door to welcome her inside. And without another word, she took her place beside him. A stirring of magic began tickling her senses then, like a foreshadowing of sorts. In the cramped space, Acheron touched her arm in the midst of shifting gears as he brought the engine to life. Taken by surprise, Bonnie gasped loudly. Not by the touch itself but the sudden flashes of ancient memories taking her brain hostage, without an ounce of mercy. Lying in a pool of his own blood, Acheron Parthenopaeus struggled to rise from the slippery floor of the grand palace. Lost to his anger and bloodlust, his attacker, a male figure of pure perfection with a golden aura, sank his knife into Acheron’s heart before slicing him open up to his navel like a hunted animal being gutted by a barbarous predator. The brutality of the scene alone successfully stealing the remaining air flowing through her lungs. “You died that night, too.” She stated in a whisper, haunted by the violence still burning behind her eyelids. This time around, he didn’t elaborate. But he watched her, from the corner of his eye with a strange light reflected on his gaze. The assertiveness supporting her revelation pushing him to put his every available resource to use, he was soon faced with a growing mystery Acheron couldn’t quite figure out yet. Still petrified by the sudden revelation on both parties, the pair rode in a rather strained silence for the remaining journey. At Kyrian’s antebellum mansion’s gate, the young witch finally dared a peek at the man sitting beside her. “Ash—“, she started only to be interrupted by him. “You don’t have to apologise, Bonnie.” He paused as if weighing the impact of his following words. “I wanted you to know. For some reason.” The air of mild astonishment clung to him furiously before quietly leaving her to her own thoughts as he braved the path toward the main entrance of Kyrian’s exuberant manor with regal superiority that bled from every pore without an ounce of vanity exuded. “One day, Ash. One day, you will tell me every secret you’ve buried deep in your soul. Then, I’ll set you free.” With that whispered vow, Bonnie vacated the car to follow him and, finally, confront her latest source of woe. Their gazes locked instantly as she stepped through the door. The cold morning’s timid breeze blowing, dragged her curls behind her shoulders as her fingers made haste to shield Kyrian from the invading sunlight. Even in darkness, the ancient Prince’s blonde curls glistened like an aura of mortal divinity. Incapable of staying unaffected, her heart quickened at the sight. And though his stance prevailed rigid and unfaltering, Kyrian stood silent. Almost defeated, and at a loss for words. In return, Bonnie’s demeanour evolved through different discharges of emotions as her thoughts raced through her mind. Neither willing to break the silence of discomfort. Drowning in conflict, she entertained their staring contest for a little longer just so she gave herself the time to examine the source of all her current heartache. Convinced her stubborn Dark-Hunter had recovered from most of the damage done to him the previous night, she finally mustered the courage to reveal her intentions of returning to Mystic Falls for a few days. “You look better already. That’s a relief.” Pause. Fidgeting fingers found temporary shelter in her jacket’s pockets. Then she cleared her throat. “Ash is taking me home for a couple of days.” ─── There. It’s done. Best to just blurt it out and take them both out of this misery. Unsure he had heard it right, he sought Acheron for clarification. Or any indication of the meaning behind her words. As the sole witness to their exchange, characterised by tension and uneasiness, Ash chose not to elaborate. Leaving that pleasant task to her. “I’m gonna find Nick. There’s something I need to discuss with him.” And just like that, he vanished toward the kitchen. Betrayal spoiled Kyrian’s patrician features. As a member of the male community, he had hoped his boss would join forces with him in solidarity. To dilute the growing tension building between him and Bonnie. But no, the old bastard slipped through the cracks at the first chance. “Why?” Defeated, he couldn’t even hide his dismay. It took him several heartbeats of aching silence to finally tear it apart. In his head, Kyrian had already demanded her all the answers but none were brought into the light. Only that broken whisper seemed to matter. “You know why.” She murmured back, without wasting a heartbeat. Though Bonnie wouldn’t admit it out loud, her poor bruised heart cracked even further. Pain oozed from it like poison as it continued to pump blood unknowingly of the destruction caused. Suddenly lightheaded, and with weakened knees, she sought swift support from the nearby sofa just to avoid worlds of embarrassment. His rejection had been enough. It stung like a viper’s attack and now she bled. She just wanted to bleed alone for a couple of days before raising her chin and throwing her misfortune over her shoulders as if nothing had transpired.

Guilt-ridden, at least he had the decency of showcasing remorse by fixing his stare anywhere but her eyes. “I’m going upstairs to pack. Can you, please, tell Acheron I’ll be ready in a few minutes?” Sighing in extreme desolation, she left him alone to his thoughts. The whole packing process didn’t take her even twenty minutes, she had been taken to New Orleans against her will after all. A bittersweet smile tugged at the ends of her lips as the memory of the first encounter with Kyrian invaded her thoughts like a Trojan’s horse. She nearly laughed reminiscing on their first exchange of words and how much he had feared her even though he had been the one kidnapping her. Instead, a choked sob escaped. Life had to have a grudge against her, she pondered. All her efforts to turn things around when nothing went right could never hold the walls that sustained any form of happiness. It took her a minute of sitting on the bed that had been hers for several weeks to pull herself together. Her emotions ran haywire and she was having some trouble taking their reigns. Once certain she wouldn’t break as easily in front of him, Bonnie grabbed the bag with her clothes. But as she was leaving her room, she felt the urge to leave a memento that would remind him of her. Aware of his instant appreciation for relics, Bonnie decided to gift him with one of her grandmother’s old necklaces, a witch’s talisman. Her favourite and most powerful. Hoping he would find it after her departure, Bonnie made her way downstairs to find both Kyrian and Acheron waiting for her in a silence that felt strange, thick with tension. “I’m ready to go.” She announced bravely while focusing her attention on the straps of her bag, avoiding Kyrian’s burning gaze. Sensing the unresolved tension between them, Acheron gave Kyrian a meaningful stare with a message only privy to them both before getting up and making his exit. “I’ll wait outside for you, Bonnie. Whenever you’re ready.” Emphasising that last sentence, Ash conveyed his belief the two of them should trade some parting words before her temporary departure. In silence, she nodded and waited until Acheron was outside. “I don’t want you to go, Bonnie.” Kyrian’s delivery almost like a plea took the young witch by surprise. She had expected to be one breaking the silence. “I can’t stay and pretend nothing happen. I’m not like that, Kyrian.” The anguish in her voice becoming more solid with each word. “If I’m coming back here to fight against this enemy alongside you then I need time to put my priorities in order.” Unable to withstand the sound of heartache in her voice, her fallen Prince closed the gap between them and took her face with both hands. Admiring the beauty of her strength, Kyrian closed his eyes for a few heartbeats as he cursed his very existence. For the first time in over two thousand years of solitude and misery, his heart awakened from a long death. But they could never be, regardless of his feelings toward her. That would be a direct insult to his vow and the goddess he served. Resting his forehead on hers, temptation bit him hard as they stood on the verge of goodbye. ─── I love you, Bonnie. The words never came. Instead, he breathed in her perfume. “At least let me be the one to take you home...” With tears prickling her eyes, she attempted her escape but he wouldn’t let her. Kyrian remained frozen as if willing to extend their moment. “I can’t. If I allow it, I’ll just delay the inevitable. Better to just rip it off and hope for the best.” Inside, every wall crumbled to the ground. There was shards of glass everywhere. She was a wreck, bleeding and the ruins of what could be would become unfinished dreams. “I should go now, Kyrian.” Fighting off a sobbing session, she rubbed her eyes to dry unspent tears. After all, nothing would change even if she cried. Opposite from her, an ancient warrior stood deep in thought. Tormented by visions of a future he never meant to have or share with another, Kyrian remembered the tragedy of his human days, mostly marked by the betrayal that had murdered him. An inner voice had once convinced him he was not worthy of love but looking down at her, the infamous “what if” tormented him aggressively. Saying nothing, her Prince pressed his lips to her forehead and closed his eyes to savour the bittersweet moment as he committed into memory every piece of her. “Be safe.” The softness of his whisper practically snuffed out Bonnie’s remaining strength as her knees buckled. With a tenderness that rivalled even her grandmother’s, Kyrian caressed her face one last time as if afraid he might not see her again. He was determined to make her departure the hardest one yet. Only by Bonnie’s perseverance did she manage to break them apart. “I will.” Finally turning around to leave, their fingers crossed paths in intimate touch and his self control flew out the window. Awakening from self-inflicted slumber, Kyrian closed his fingers around hers and pulled her back, drawing her into his body by surprise. He, then, stole her breath with a searing kiss, full of longing and unspoken promises her warrior vowed not to disclose in fear of what might befall her were he to defy the goddess he served. Bewildered, Bonnie gaped at him. Giving her half a smile, he knew he had to let her go but his fingers refused the separation by caressing her face while his midnight eyes dove deep into her soul. “You shouldn’t have done this.” The words came barely above a whisper as she enforced their physical distance by taking his hands hostage. “Goodbye, Kyrian.” Barely holding on, with the grip on her emotions fading with each heartbeat, she made a hasty retreat. The front door slammed, effectively shutting another chapter of her life as the weakened walls guarding her heart crumbled. She couldn’t breathe through the onslaught of heartache and agony. ─── Was this what she was destined for? Her gut-wrenching sobs, though quiet, didn’t go unnoticed by Acheron who waited for her by his Porsche. Rather unsure on how to approach her as Bonnie’s heart bled without restraint, he took calculated steps in her direction in hopes that she would note his presence. And she finally did. “I’m ready.” The strain she put on to have her voice sound remotely even through the remains of her shattered heart reinforced Acheron’s respect for her. Perturbed by her breakdown, the ever observant but quiet Dark Hunter offered her a modicum of solace by drawing her trembling frame into his chest, surrounding her with his strength through an unusual embrace. Massive hands stroked her hair with inimitable softness. “You’re an extraordinary woman, Bonnie Bennett.” The admiration reflected on his lilt administered a sense of temporary serenity. “Just remember it is not an obligation to be strong 24/7. Sometimes we have to drown before we can return to shore.” Struggling for words, she merely nodded. “Alright, then. Shall we go?” As if pulling a rabbit out of a magician’s hat, Ash offered her his hand. “We aren’t taking your car?” She asked, perplexed. Tearing a rift in her skies of grief, Acheron Parthenopaeus conjured a disarming smile she felt particularly victimised by. “No. Not this time. Have you ever traveled through the time-space continuum, also commonly known as teleportation?” Openly gaping at him, she then glanced at his exposed palm, the tears making it a near impossible feat. A stirring of excitement unleashed a few wild butterflies in her stomach as her fingers touched Acheron’s calloused hand. “Should I be afraid? How does it work?” Like any other creature, she grew hesitant just as treaded these unknown waters. “For me, it’s like breathing. Do you trust me?” Assuming an almost defensive posture as if expecting the worst, he stared at her intently from behind his trusted sunglasses. Waves of relief rolled off of him when she nodded. “You know that I do.” His fingers had barely taken possession of hers when he dipped his head to whisper in her ear, “You can open your eyes now, Bonnie. You’re home.” She did. One glance around them confirmed his claim. In fact, he even brought them to her grandmother’s unkept porch, once again proving her his powers far exceeded those of his brethren. Apart from the light discomfort in her stomach, she felt fairly confident on her competence to teleport. “It was easier than I expected…” She mumbled as realisation gutted her. She was back. Back in Mystic Falls, her so-called cursed birthplace.

#charmeddelicacy #the mardi gras conundrum

4 notes · View notes

what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner O/S: A Grievous Burden

Summary: Post Sokovia Steve struggles to deal with the deep routed effects Wanda’s magic has on his mind as once more his dreams become haunted with the ghosts of his past.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, angst, night terrors...

A/N: As part of SSB’s Birthday celebrations I decided to publish this little one shot/drabble which sits between Ch 24- Like The Old Man Said...Together, and Ch 25- All Dressed Up And Nowhere To Go.

Steve Rogers was no stranger to bad dreams. But his recurring nightmares had been a thing of the past, certainly since he’d started sleeping next to Katie at night. Her presence comforted him, allowed him to sleep for the most peacefully. But ever since getting back from Sokovia both Katie and Steve had been plagued by bad dreams. Katie’s seemed to be less vivid, mostly centred around the moment she had thought their time was up until Fury had shown up, but Steve’s subconscious for some reason didn’t seem to take him anywhere near Sokovia. Instead, he was catapulted back in time to various points during the war. It was unnerving for him but mostly, they were just that, bad dreams...until one night, for the first time he could remember, he suffered a full scale hallucinating night terror.

The first Katie knew of it was when he was pinning her down against the mattress and shielding her from something.

"Steve." she said gently. Nothing, he simply flattened himself against her further, right arm curled around her head.

"Stay down," he ordered firmly.

"What's going on?" she asked softly, still coming round from the sleep he had roused her from.

"Air strike, men in the hall.” He said, turning to her "I'll head for the door, cause a distraction. You get to the bathroom, get in the tub, cover your head."

She listened intently, then realised what he had said. Air Strike. He must have been dreaming he was back in the war again. She let out a breath and relaxed, reaching up to take his face in her hands.

"Stevie, nobody's there. Everything's quiet."

"You can't hear them?" he looked at her frowning.

"Sweetheart, do you trust me?" she asked.

He nodded. “With my life, you know this Katie...”

"Ok, well, I promise you - there's no air raid, nobody in the hall."

For a moment, Steve just stared at her, his face wracked with confusion. Then, swallowing hard, he closed his eyes. After a moment he raised his head to look around before his face fell back on hers as her thumbs gently moved in long arcs down the sides of his face.

"Steve?"

With a shuddering breath, he pulled himself up, reaching for his shield by the bedroom door. Picking it up he listened for a moment before throwing the door open and he walked out into the hallway. Katie sat in bed listening to the sound of various other doors being opened and shut as he meticulously swept the whole of their floor, checking windows and closets until he ended up back in their room.

His back and chest were both glistening with sweat. He looked at her, his eyes wide before he went into the en-suite and she heard the tap running and the sound of water being splashed against what she assumed was his face. She gave him a few minutes before she followed him, where he was stood leaning forward, forehead pressed to the mirror, chest and shoulders heaving.

“Stevie…” she said gently, as she slipped both her arms round his waist, pressing a kiss to his bare, clammy shoulder. Her touch seemed to do the trick as he took one deep breath and turned to face her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked his eyes looking at her as the palms of her hands spread across his lower back.

"Of course not." she said, shaking her head.

He wrapped his arms around her and she lay her head on his chest and felt his heartbeat as it gradually evened out. Neither of them spoke for a while.

“Your dreams… they’re getting worse." Katie said gently.

“It'll get better," he finally managed. “You know it's been bad before. It will fade after a while."

Katie knew from experience that everyone dealt with traumatic experiences differently. For example, Tony suffered panic attacks and went completely off the rails post both his soiree in the Afghanistan cave and New York. She tended to take a lot of things as they came and worry about them for a while but after screaming and crying would then give herself a kick up the ass to either change things or deal with them. Steve’s worry seemed to manifest itself two fold. He would either be suffering from the inability to stay calm and therefore would exercise, pounding out frustrations on either the pavement or the punching bags. And then there was this, the nightmares. Normally Katie would wake with his jostling but if she didn’t, he would always shake her awake if he needed her, as that was the agreement they had. She would then help him back to sleep either by talking or they would engage in some other un-coventional means of therapy until both of them were spent and satiated enough to return to slumber.

Katie gently took his hand and led him out of the bathroom turning off the light. As they reached the bed he waited until she was in it, pulling the duvet up over her before snagging a pillow and turning to go.

"Where do you think you're going?"

He shrugged. "Thought I'd camp out on the couch. I don't want to keep you awake."

“No way…” she said, throwing back the duvet “Come on.”

He sighed and climbed in as she opened her arms for him to settle his head on her chest, gently stroking his hair as he swallowed, his breathing steadying as her touch soothed him.

"Where were you this time?" she asked

"Azzano… I think” he sighed “To be honest with you, I saw so many things, the dreams now…they all blur into one.”

“You wanna talk about it?” He took a deep breath “It was just loud, and I was in a building and I couldn’t get out. It was so real. When I woke up I knew where I was. I knew who you were, but I just…I dunno…”

They lay in silence, Katie continually stroking his hair as he nuzzled into her closer. She kissed the top of his head and was pleased when about 10 minutes later she heard his breathing start to lower and his head became heavy. He had managed to drift off.

*****

The next night he woke with a start, but that was it. There was no walking or hallucinating, he merely woke from a bad dream and climbed out of bed for a glass of water. When he came back, there was no talking, but he sought solace in his girl in another way, his lips kissing her hard, his hands reaching out and roving over every bit of her body he could find and he fucked her, hard, losing himself completely. They lay afterwards, sweaty foreheads pressed together and Katie simply held him close as they both came round. Eventually he moved off, pulled her to him and they fell asleep, limbs tanged around one another, his hold tight.

The next few nights he was peaceful, and Katie was hopeful that the terrors had passed, but then, four nights after the first incident he broke his hand.

Captain America could put his fist through a two-by-four with nothing worse than slightly reddened knuckles - but Steve Rogers’ hand hadn't been in a fist. Katie had woken to his hoarse cry of “Buck!!!”, in time to see his outstretched, fingers slamming straight through the plasterboard and into a metal stud in the wall as he flailed out of bed, reaching for a man who had fallen some seventy years earlier.

Katie scrambled over the bed like a shot as he was yelling out for Bucky again and again as he knelt among scattered pieces of plaster and wood, his left arm buried inside the wall up to the shoulder.

"Steve," she tried, but he didn't respond, eyes fixed in a thousand-yard stare, face crumpled with an agony that was more than physical, breath hitching and ragged. She felt the tears spring into her eyes and she was just about to ask FRIDAY to send Tony to help when she heard the door to their penthouse burst open and a few moments later Thor strode into the bedroom dressed in a pair of black sweatpants, hammer in his hand.

“I heard the Captain yell, and…” he trailed off as he took in the situation at a glance and then crouched next to Katie.

“He’s dreaming…” she said gently, “He’s dreaming about Bucky, his friend, falling…”

Thor frowned absently, brushing his fingers across the captain's temples as though he was trying to work out a problem. Then abruptly, he rose and was gone, moving almost silently through the darkness.

Whilst he was gone Katie managed to gently work Steve’s arm out of the wall. His broken hand lay twitching in her lap and she was horribly aware that they would need to set the bones before they healed wrong. Thankfully, Thor wasn’t gone long, and he was not alone when he returned, hand firm around Wanda's shoulder. The girl's eyes were wide and her hair was tangled - obviously she had been sleeping.

"Thor," Katie began to protest as she glanced round at Steve. The last thing he would want would be to come back to reality in the middle of some kind of impromptu party.

Thor held up a hand, pausing her even as he turned his full attention to Wanda

"Do you see?" he asked gravely. "Do you understand now what The Vision told you?"

Trembling, Wanda shook her head even as she went to her knees beside Steve. He was still unresponsive, but his breathing was beginning to laboriously even out and Katie knew he was fighting for control. She started to sweep her hand up and down his back in long, firm strokes in the hope it would bring him back round.

Thor knelt too, sounding as though he were some kind of instructor. "When you allowed Stark's fears to work against him," he began patiently, "you found his weakness and dug deep."

Wanda nodded slowly.

"Our Captain carries a grievous burden as well," Thor continued, "He has been sorely wounded and works to heal, but your incautious workings have torn his memories open."

“Thor…” Katie said gently as a horror stricken look crossed Wanda’s face.

"I am sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know. How can I fix it?"

For the first time, Thor hesitated. "My brother would have known," he admitted in a low voice. "He had the skill, when it pleased him to use it." He paused again, and then continued, hesitating slightly. "You must consider carefully, and proceed as seems good to you."

Biting her lip, Wanda looked up at Katie, her stricken eyes locked onto hers.

“If you can, remind him where he is," Katie said gently. “Just bring him round?”

Hesitantly, uncertainly, Wanda pointed and curled her fingers before Steve’s face and closed her eyes. Tendrils of red light flickered from her hands to his temples, and Katie tensed involuntarily. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Steve’s eyes flew open, and his uninjured hand darted up faster than sight to lock around Wanda's wrist, breaking the connection. She squeaked, startled, and froze.

“Steve…” Katie touched his arm causing him to flinch. It took him a second and then he seemed to realize where he was and what was going on. He let go of Wanda's wrist, and looked around at Katie, then Thor hovering behind the young Sokovian, and finally the familiar surroundings of their bedroom. Eventually he looked back at Wanda for a long moment before nodding once.

"Thanks."

A tear slid down her cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely. "I tried to put everything back in place, but I don't know how."

"Can't fix everything," he assured her, with a twisted smile. His old Brooklyn accent came out very strong in this unguarded moment. "And I wouldn't wantcha t' try. There's things in my head you shouldn't ever hafta see."

Wanda wrapped both her arms around herself. Her eyes still looked haunted. "He was like your brother, wasn't he?" she quavered.

Steve bowed his head as Thor dropped a gentle arm round her shoulders.

"We have all lost brothers," he rumbled, looking at her. "We know your pain. You do not face this alone."

Katie could feel Steve was quivering, exhausted beyond words though he wouldn't show it for the world, and all she wanted to do in that moment was to bind up his hand and then put him to bed. As she looked up to suggest to the others they might want to go she was surprised to see Wanda had squared her jaw with determination and she reached out once more.

"I can fix this, at least."

Steve's hurt hand suddenly glowed with red fire. He jumped, surprised, and then watched with fascination as the crooked fingers began re-align themselves. When the bones were straight again, the fire flickered out, and Wanda staggered to her feet to go, Thor right behind her.

“You ok for a moment?” Katie asked Steve and he nodded. She followed the two of them into the hall and gave a short groan as she saw the door that led to the stairs (which were never used) had been completely kicked off its hinges.

“Sorry.” Thor said, picking up the heavy door “I heard the screams and…well, I didn’t know what was going on.” “Just prop it up as best you can…I’ll let you out in the elevator.”

He propped it up, and dragged the sofa over towards it for good measure.

“I really am sorry…” Wanda whispered, tears in her eyes.

“I know, and so does he.” Katie said, giving her a hug. “He will be fine…” Her attention then turned to Thor as she gave the God a hug. “Thank you.” “Any time Little Stark.” He breathed into her hair, before the 2 of them stepped into the elevator.

Katie looked around, trying to think about how they could explain a broken door plus a hole in the wall to Tony, then she realised she didn’t care. She headed into the kitchen, rummaging through the first aid kit for an elastic bandage to keep his fingers straight and wrapped up safely whilst his fast healing worked its magic.

He was sat on the side of the bed when she re-entered the room, his injured hand cradled in his other.

“Here…” she said, and she gently took his hand as he surrendered to her ministrations.

“Is Wanda ok?” he asked gently.

“Yeah, but I’m more concerned about you.” she said, laying his hand down gently onto my lap. “Baby…” “I’m sorry.” He said softly, laying his head against hers.

“What for?” “This…for scaring you?” “Stop it.” She said sternly “I love you, you idiot, I just want you to be ok.” “I will be…” he smiled softly, his lips catching hers “Given time.”

The next day, Katie dragged Steve out for a walk in Central Park, but first she spoke to Tony about the door and the wall. He was surprisingly sympathetic, and didn’t mention the issue to Steve once. By the time Steve and Katie returned home that afternoon both were fixed, the only evidence any repairs had taken place was the smell of fresh paint and plaster which lingered in the apartment for a few days. What thankfully didn’t linger were Steve’s night terrors. Katie didn’t know what it was that Wanda did, but his bones healed straight and it seemed that his mind had healed somewhat straight too. Whilst he persisted with the odd bad dream, they were getting less and less frequent, and there was no repeat of the two hallucinations he had suffered which was a relief to her, as she knew with time and patience and rest, the dreams would stop as well.

#stark spangled banner #stark spangled is 1 #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #katie stark

47 notes · View notes

scimitar-and-longsword · 4 years ago

Note

I know you’re mostly JoexNicky, but would you consider writing AndyxBooker? My HC is that Booker pines hard for Andy. Lots of unrequited love potential. Sex is fine, but feelings are better.

Bold of you to assume I don’t ship ✨everything!✨ And unrequited love/pining???? Mmmmm yes, give me more!!! Ok, here’s some depressing Booker x Andy pining for you anon 💜

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

Love Like a Dying Flame

Booker wasn’t an idiot. Ok well, maybe when it came to some things, but not this. He had no delusions about Andy. He may not have been around to meet Quynh or see her and Andy together. But he’d heard enough, mostly from Joe, to know that there was an insurmountable wall between him and Andy.

Booker would never expect Joe or Nicky to move on with anyone else should one of them die or be lost. So, why would Andy, whose relationship with Quynh had lasted twice as long as Joe and Nciky’s had so far, be any different?

He knew Andy could never love him. Not when Quynh was still dying and invading his dreams every night. But it didn’t matter what he knew he couldn’t have, he also knew he couldn’t help but hope that someday she could see him as more than just another soldier. After all, they did have- had- all the time in the world.

When his wife and sons had all been laid to rest and the reality of facing eternity alone set in, Booker had all but lost hope. Even now, hope was a small candle at the other end of the infinite cave that was his mind. There seemed to be an eternity of darkness between himself and that flickering candle, and often he would lose sight of it completely.

Then Booker would return from death with Andy’s face inches from his own. She’d say something like ‘ Come back to me’ and press her forehead to his as he rocked through the painful aftershocks of healing. In those moments, the flickering flame felt more like a bonfire.

Those moments fueled him. And kept him alive. Perhaps his body would have soldiered on regardless. But Andy was the one who kept the tatters of his soul tethered to earth.

He had vomited after he touched himself and thought of Andy instead of his wife for the first time. The guilt of betraying his wife had been overwhelming even 40 years after her death. But she was gone, and it hurt too much to think of her so long after she had left him. So his thoughts turned to Andy. It took time, but eventually he stopped like an adulterer. No, now he just felt like a creep.

Joe knew something was up. Booker was sure of it. There had been more than one instance where Booker had caught himself staring at Andy only to shake himself out of it and earn a sad smile from his friend. Joe never said anything of course. That wasn’t the kind of friendship he and Joe had. But there was not a doubt in Booker’s mind that Joe knew.

Booker tried to keep his feelings in check, to rationalize them away. He tried to distract himself and sleep with random women as often as he needed to. And for a while, it worked.

But, in the last few decades it had gotten much much worse.

Toronto, 1951.

The four of them were clearing out an illegal arms dealer and Andy had handed Booker a fully loaded Beretta mere seconds after he had fired his last shot. It was the first time anyone had anticipated his needs in battle before. Nicky and Joe, constantly had each other covered, and at times even Andy. But never Booker. Not before this time.

After that they quickly became a team. Their own sub-unit to mirror Joe and Nicky. And they made a pretty good team in a fight. It certainly wasn’t as effortless as Nicky and Joe fighting together, but it worked. Or at least it had worked.

The flame still disappeared from time to time, but after every fight or battle where he and Andy had traded blows on the same enemy, or one of them had killed someone about to make a killing strike on the other, the candle would come into view, still far away. But there.

Columbia, 1983.

He and Andy were helping to escort a group of refugees over the border into Panama. Booker had been on watch, Andy nodding off beside him. Both of their backs against a large tree, the people they were protecting sleeping in the clearing in front of them. Andy’s head had slumped over onto Booker’s shoulder as she finally let sleep take her.

He knew it meant nothing, not in the way he wanted it to. She was tired and his shoulder was as good a place as any. In any case it clearly had not been a choice, she had practically passed out from exhaustion. Still he couldn’t ignore how good it felt to know that Andy trusted him enough to let her guard down like this.

The flame in his mind burned a little brighter after that.

Busan, 2005.

Joe and Nicky had become trapped in a collapsed and still on fire apartment building. Nicky had run in with no plan as soon as he heard shouts coming from inside. Of course Joe had followed him in without hesitation.

Andy and Booker stayed outside, helping people who made it out, even catching a woman who had jumped from the third floor. Booker had broken multiple ribs when he broke her fall.

When the building had come crashing down with Joe and Nicky still inside, Booker had started to rush the building, intending to find his friends. Dig them out by hand if need be. But Andy had stopped him.

She grabbed his hand and stared directly in his eyes.

“Don’t.” she had said simply. Her voice was low and dry.

He had never seen her look so scared, not up to that point. It was the first time he had seen her cry. Not tear up, but actually cry.

He sat with her as the firefighters and police pulled body after body from the rubble, including Joe and Nicky. She had held his hand the entire time. He still didn't understand what about that fire, which was far from the first or the last they had faced, had broken her so completely that night.

The smoldering flames of the wrecked building matched the ones in his mind. He could feel them on his face, and behind his eyes. He could feel them in the pit of his stomach.

And Now?

Booker wasn’t really sure what to think anymore. It couldn’t be healthy to pin all his love and hope on a person who didn’t return the feelings. And it wasn’t fair to Andy. Booker found it difficult to pull himself out of his depression long enough to really consider what was or wasn’t fair though.

He had spent 150 years second guessing every action Andy took. Always wondering if the reason she chose to sit next to him on every couch and helicopter was because Joe and Nicky were joined at the hip and she had no other choice.

God. He felt like a child, jealous at who’s team he was chosen for in some schoolyard game. Not that he could remember what, if any, games he had played as a child.

Or perhaps the reason she chose him over Joe and Nicky wasn’t because he was the only one left, but because it was him. Sebastien le Livre. This selfish, fucked up, mess of a man, who loved his friends even as he cursed them for their happiness. Even as he made the choice to betray them to find his own peace.

He would never be able to forgive himself for what he had done to Andy. He would never know if his gunshot had been the one that flipped some invisible switch on her mortality. And now he would likely never see her again.

His grief had grown so terrible, his self loathing so all encompassing that he stopped being able to feel that flame in the back of his mind. And now he feared he would never feel it again. Doomed to wallow for eternity, mourning all the loves he had lost over the course of his never ending life.

Two months after his exile began he stopped dreaming of Quynh. He bitterly thought that if he had been able to wait just a few more months before making the worst mistake of his life, he would have been able to be there when Andy finally mourned Quynh. Help her pick up the pieces.

He hated himself for that being his first reaction. He was a selfish piece of shit and he deserved to never see her again. She was better off without him.

No instead he had gotten word to Copley to try and discreetly let Nile know that her dreams of Quynh stopping wasn’t normal. Andy deserved to know.

When he stumbled into his apartment in Paris, absolutely gone on cheap cognac, He was determined to live the entire century drunk. He sobered up as soon as his door pushed open without needing it’s key though.

He pulled his gun, stepped into the room, and saw the absolute last thing he had ever expected to see.

Standing before him was the woman whose face he knew better than his own, the only face he knew better than Andy’s.

“Booker.” Quynh cooly said.

She poured herself a glass of water, and added, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

He stood, frozen in disbelief, gun still pointed at Quynh. When a single small thought crept into his mind.

This was his chance, wasn’t it? If he couldn’t have Andy, which he had started to make peace with these last six months. Maybe returning something precious to her would end his exile early and allow him to at least be near her during the final years of her life.

Somewhere in the back of Booker’s mind, a small flame flickered to life.

((Available on AO3 as well, link on my tumblr 💜))

66 notes · View notes

babiedeku · 5 years ago

Note

hi! a request! so in japanese culture, saying "aishteru" is only reserved for couples with maximum level of romance? how about lets say its years after muzan's defeat, giyuu and reader live a peaceful life together. giyuu looks back at all of the pain and suffering he endured as a demon slayer, but his thoughts are focused to the happy moments with reader. being the airhead he is, he says "aishteru", and reader is shookt bec giyuu literally confessed his deep and unconditional love for her lmaoo

hi anon thank you for this request this made me really soft while writing it! im sorry that it took too long to write, but i hope you still like it! :( and i hope i did our boy justice bc it’s my first time writing about him. here’s soft!Giyuu for y’alls! - marianne

my requests are open!

Life truly is beautiful when you’re not off on missions and don’t have the impending doom of Muzan looming over your heads.

It’s been 5 years after Muzan’s death by the hands of the hashiras along with Tanjirou, Inosuke, Zenitsu, Kanao, and the now back to human Nezuko. He’s lost so many people in his life already and yes he still lost countless of friends, fellow demon slayers, and Oyakata-sama which was the trade off he never wanted, but their deaths were not in vain, because life was now peaceful and beautiful.

Giyuu looked at you beside him, you were reading one of the books that was given to you by Obanai and Mitsuri for your birthday recently, you looked so peaceful and soft all wrapped up in his arm, a small smile on your lips as you continued to read, already engrossed in the story.

You were someone that he never expected to come into his life amidst the raging battles and the constant loss of important figure in his life - you were the one person who stayed with him all throughout the entirety of the nightmare Muzan has subjected everyone in the corps to.

And despite the severity of the situation that was at hand before, your kindness and gentleness to those around you never wavered, instead it just seemingly increased tenfold. Such as that time when you were able to cheer him up unknowingly when he had just returned from a mission he had failed to accomplish, letting the demon get away.

“Giyuu-san,”

He looked up from his sword to see you smiling at him softly, you were fresh from a mission, having just returned last night as well. There were still some healing cuts and bruises that peeked through the collar and sleeves of your uniform, but nothing could ever make you less … pleasing to look at, if anything Giyuu finds it admirable how you were able to take everything in stride.

“I just wanted to drop by and give you this,” You gave him a neatly wrapped bento box that contained his favorite meal, simmered salmon with daikon. “I heard you last night over dinner whispering about how much you missed your favorite dish.”

Giyuu was unsure as to what to say to you, but he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. “T-thank you, (Y/N)-san”

Having you in his life was a breath of fresh air he never knew he was craving for. You were his rock, the only person to be able to fully see past his stoic expressions and silence.

Giyuu never questioned your ability on being able to read his emotions accurately, and he will never question it, because he’s thankful that he doesn’t have to explain himself to you as much.

“We both know you feel guilty about what happened to Rengoku-san,”

Giyuu just looked at you, a little confused, because you stood by the door frame, with a calm look on your face. He could never understand how you could still be so strong in the news of having just lost one of your colleagues, heck, you were all family at this point.

You both have just lost a member of the family and yet here you stood, calm and collected.

“I should have been the one to have been tasked with that mission,” Was all he was able to say, still not trusting himself with words, because he is not sure how to process these emotions that are bubbling up inside of him.

Crossing his room, you took a seat beside him as he gazed outside his window. “We all signed up for this with the knowledge that each mission could very well be our last. Kyujuro fought with his heart blazing to keep the innocent safe.”

A tear made its way down of his cheek, no longer able to contain his emotions.

Gently grasping Giyuu’s hand into yours, you offered him a soft smile. “He wouldn’t have traded his place with you even if it meant him keeping his life, he would have wanted all of us to take his death as some sort of inspiration to continue the fight against Muzan,”

Even when the nightmare was drawing to a close, you were still there by his side, ready with your warm embrace to shield him from the world, with your words to put his mind and heart at east, and you presence to make it known to him that you will never leave his side, and that you are more than ready to follow him into the fight once more.

He woke up with a jolt, gasping as he tried to make sense of where he was, but all he could see what the familiar decor of the infirmary back at their head quarters.So could that all have just been a dream?

Okayata-sama, Shinobou, Muichiro, Genya - ?

“Tomioka,” You were sitting beside his bed, reading one of the books that Shinobou left lying around in her office. Seeing how shaken Giyuu looked when he whipped his head toward you, and growing realization in his eyes as tears started to form, it broke your heart.

“No,” He croaked, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “please, no.” Giyuu knew it was pointless begging with you, because he knew it himself that no one could give back the people they have lost during the battle.

You could feel your own tears forming in your eyes, it hurt knowing that you have lost people whom you care for deeply and no longer be able to see them, but it also pained you to see Giyuu’s walls get torn down and finally break right before your eyes.

Carefully climbing onto the bed with him, you wrapped him into your arms, his arm wrapping around your waist in a weak attempt to hold onto you.

Giyuu is not a man of many words, and he appreciates that you understand that and don’t hold it against him in times that you seek his loving presence. You have mentioned that he shows his affection to you more so in actions such as compared to words.

And to think that despite the suffering he has endured in his life as a demon slayer, you were always there to shine your bright light to help him get through it and open up your loving arms to give him the warmth and affection that he never thought he needed.

There was a warm feeling in his chest, despite having been married to you for 5 years, he still has some difficulty pinpointing his emotions, and the smile that he just can’t contain whenever he’s with you.

“Aishteru,”

Beside him he heard you giggle softly, causing him to stiffen. Had Giyuu said that out loud? He’s always wanted to say it back to you, but not like this, he wanted it to be special and be said to you at a place that was of significance to you both.

“I love you too, Tomioka, with all my heart.” You said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear, kissing his cheek.

Giyuu, and he was fairly sure of it now, is the luckiest man on earth.

#tomioka giyuu #tomioka x reader #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny #tomioka giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu imagines #giyuu tomioka imagines #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #demon slayer imagines

239 notes · View notes

sea-side-scribbles · 3 years ago

Text

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/81815854

Chapter 75

Peace. Silence. Absolute calm. If this was what being dead felt like, it wasn't that bad. Nick heard muffled sounds from somewhere far away. They sounded like human voices, slightly echoing. Angels? Did he really make it into heaven?

When he opened his eyes, the sight promptly overwhelmed him. A woman with feathered wings floated above him and granted him a tender look. Nick stared back in awe, scolding himself for ever having doubts. “Oh, you're awake”, a female voice said. It sounded otherworldly, but the angel however hadn't moved her mouth. “Am I?”, Nick asked in confusion.

Then he heard footsteps and turned his head into the direction of the noise. To his surprise, a very livid looking woman approached him. Her shape was a bit blurry, no matter how much Nick blinked, but other than that her appearance didn't seem otherworldly. She wore a dirty and wrinkled dress and her up-do was messy. “Don't be afraid”, she said softly and held up her hands. “I don't want to hurt you. The fight is over and we're all Downers like you.” Her footsteps echoed from the walls. Nick finally took a closer look around and the angel turned out to be a sculpture. There were more of her kind on the walls and above him he found something that looked very much like an organ case. He concluded he lay in the nave of a church. There were more beds like his own spread across the hall, proving that he hadn't left this world yet. Wellies slept in the beds or simply lay down. Injured. Examining himself he found bandages on his arms and legs, but he didn't feel pain.

“Be careful. We gave you painkillers, that's why you don't feel anything, but you should take it easy,” the woman advised. “Ah, painkillers...” Nick got it. “That's why I feel like I'm wrapped in a cloud.” “Do you feel sick?” “No...just...weird...”, Nick answered. He had trouble speaking plainly. She nodded, looking relieved. “By the way...I'm Doctor Chaney. If you need something, just call me. Me and my colleagues are here to help.”

“How's Arthur?”, he asked, struggling with his heavy tongue. The woman furrowed her brows. “Arthur?” "The man who's been with me...tall, black hair, glasses...He has a press pass." Dr. Chaney wiped her forehead. "I'm sorry, I wasn't with the group that found you...But I'm sure, if your friend is hurt, he's here. And if he's alright, he's out there helping the others." "I was in the rail tunnel...it collapsed..." Her expression changed. "The train station?" "Yeah...we wanted...the bridge...we didn't make it..." "Well...the tunnel is still unusable, but we reached as far as possible. If your friend was with you, I'm certain that we found him.” Nick moved. “I have to look for him...” “No”, Dr. Chaney said with emphasis. She stepped closer and pressed him back into the bed, gently but decisively. “You would only hurt yourself and delay your healing process. Your friend needs you in good shape”, she went on insistently. Nick looked tired and sad. “Trust him with us. I'm sure that one of my colleagues is already taking care of him. Spare yourself. You still need a lot of sleep. In the meantime I'll go ask for Arthur, okay?” She gave him a confident smile.

Nick's protest melted away. He tried a smile and sank back into his pillow. “You find him, right?” “Yes. I'll go right now”, she answered softly. He wouldn't be the first she had to bring bad news but she didn't say that. When she was gone, Nick eyed the painted ceiling for a while. He wondered how long it had been since he had visited a church that wasn't dedicated to Simon Says. Then he eventually fell asleep.

Waking up for the second time, he saw more clearly, but the pain kept him in bed. “Dr. Chaney?”, he asked into the room. After clearing his throat he tried again louder. “Dr. Chaney!” A man approached his bed. “Dr. Chaney just left”, he explained gently. “Can I help you?” “Arthur”, Nick blurted out. “She wanted to look for him...” He tried to get up but gave up when his body protested. “Careful!”, the man said. “You don't have these bandages for nothing. Who's Arthur?” Nick sighed. “He was with me when you found me. Tall, black hair, glasses, proper suit”, he explained again. “Somebody must've seen him!” He looked around in the room. If he lay in one of these beds, they would know, right? “His full name is Arthur Hastings.” The man pondered. “Well, I've seen many in proper suits, but no Arthur Hastings...but Dr. Chaney will find him, I'm sure of that.” He gave Nick a confident look. “I'm Dr. Wilson. You're probably hungry, I'll make sure you get breakfast.” Nick wasn't actually hungry but he however nodded. When the man left, Nick was alone with his uncomfortable thoughts. How could that happen? Just a few moments ago, Arthur had been with him, joking around and enjoying the last moments of their lives. He could still feel how they had clutched each other. How Arthur had pressed his head against his chest. He had lost consciousness in this position. And now Arthur was gone. How could it be that he wasn't here? How did they separate them without finding him? It impossible that he wasn't here!

Nick felt a sting when another option crossed his mind. No, he wasn't allowed to think that! If something had happened to Arthur....they would know. They would tell him, right? This wasn't the old Wellington Wells that hid all bad news away, or was it? Panic bubbled up inside him.

The man who brought his breakfast wasn't Dr. Wilson. “If something bad happened to my friend...you would tell me, right?”, Nick blurted out. The man was sightly puzzled. “We don't demand you to be happy, if that's what you mean...”, he answered with caution, as if he had to explain it to himself. “Nobody is really happy anymore.” Nick accepted the plate. “So, if somebody dies...” “Yeah...sure...”, the other man answered, as if he was upset about his own words. “We keep finding new ones...We have to keep up...” His face fell, dwelling in bad memories. Nick felt the urge to comfort him. “At least we didn't run out of porridge”, he joked, holding up the plate. The man implied a smile. “I'd prefer some roast pheasant now...” Nick eyed him, then he winked. “Parade-posh, huh?” “If you want to say it like that...” The other man grimaced and turned his head away. “I know how you feel”, Nick said. The man now eyed Nick's black suit, seemingly figuring that there was truth in his words, even though the cloth had suffered during the escape. He now really smiled.

The man later left to help other Wellies and Nick ate up, pondering. Or better, letting his thoughts spin in his head without any result. He didn't want to develop the thoughts that forced itself upon him. He wanted to blame the emptiness inside him on his stomach. Because the pain didn't allow him to move quicker, he ate up slowly. After putting down the plate under his bed he pulled the blanket over him. Soon, he wondered if they had put painkillers in his porridge because the pain eased and he grew tired. He fell asleep again.

The days went by with sleeping, eating and healing. Soon, the doctors freed him from his bandages and allowed him to make a few steps. At his first trip he made his way hand over hand along the stone wall, circling the nave until he was back at his bed. He was able to make longer trips later. One thing however didn't change. He asked every doctor in the church about Arthur, but nobody had seen him. A few times he thought he found him and approached a bed only to realise that he had mistaken someone else for him. Dr. Chaney didn't dare giving him an ultimate answer. Or perhaps she couldn't. Perhaps she simply didn't find Arthur yet. That was what Nick clung to just like the walls at his attempts to walk. If something had happened to Arthur they would know... He also asked them what they thought about bad news. It seemed like they were all Downers. Nobody wanted to withhold the truth but sometimes they simply didn't know it. Nick found out that he wasn't the only one missing somebody.

When he left the church for the first time, he noticed that the Wellies were already removing the wakes of devastation and also the signs of the old administration. Scribbles still covered the walls. They reminded Nick of the Garden District, telling him how naïve he had been when he had seen them for the first time. The remnants of the TV screens and drones were dragged away. The big headmistress got dismembered and carried away in pieces. The working Wellies seemed to be busy but not in a hurry, rather gloomy and dwelling in thoughts. They reminded Nick of himself.

He watched them, hoping to find a familiar face, looking out for the suits his friends had worn at the Memorial Day. They would stand out if they were there. But he didn't find them and when he asked about them he only received pitiful looks.

Soon, Nick was able to help too. It distracted him from his thoughts and it satisfied him to heal the town's wounds. Yet he wondered how he could remove the signs of his old life so easily, throwing away the old screens on which he had seen Uncle Jack for so many years. All of this would never come back, but Nick wasn't able to mourn. He watched the current events as if he was miles away.

The corpses were worse. Nick wasn't surprised about the casualties, he had already come upon them during his escape. But he was shocked about their amount. He couldn't be near them for long and he rarely helped carrying them away. He was sorry because it was obvious that not many volunteered for this kind of work. Some Wellies simply couldn't bear it, broke out in tears or feared to find a loved one in between the piles. Every helping hand was needed. Nick couldn't cry but sometimes the sight choked him. When he found a shock of black hair for example. It was also unnerving to think about the hearts that were trapped in these lifeless corpses. Nick fought back the feeling as good as he could.

Of course he also went to the train station as soon as he could make it there on his own. It was a shocking sight as well. Nick had expected to find signs of the explosion, but what he actually discovered made his stomach turn. The whole street had fallen in, the front of the building had collapsed and uncovered the tunnel underneath. It looked like there had been an earthquake. It was worse than he had imagined it when he was trapped in the tunnel. How did they get out of this alive? Looking down into the chasm with a pounding heart, he saw Wellies climbing down there. When he asked them what they were doing, they said they wanted to clear the way to the bridge. When he replied how risky it was they only said what Nick also sensed. They had no choice. He learned that others tried to contact the mainland, but they encountered difficulties too.

The sight of the ruin that could have been his own grave remained etched in his mind. He realised that somebody possibly still lay down there, somebody who had risked his own life to be with him, somebody who could've been safe on the other side of the bridge by now, who could've had a new life, with his brother who was waiting for him... This night, Nick mourned. All feelings he had bottled up until then broke free. He cried, screamed, threw around pieces of rubble and would've probably caused as much damage as the revolution if not the doctors had grabbed him and filled him with sedatives.

When he woke up again, his body was still weak. He could only cry in silence. Why couldn't he just die?, he asked himself. Why was he doomed to survive every disaster he had caused himself? What was it that fate wanted from him? Nick thought of the many tall mansion blocks in the district. Surely he could jump from one of them before anybody noticed what he was up to. They would simply add his corpse to the others. They would possibly not notice that he didn't die in the fight. He wouldn't be a burden.

What else would he do in this world? He felt the urge to justify himself. He had no future on the mainland and no future in this town. Everything he had wanted was a new life with Arthur... But it felt wrong to go without saying goodbye. He had said goodbye to Morrie and Virgil, at least according to circumstances, and had built them a memorial. He felt he should do the same for Arthur. And his friends. For everything that happened. If Birdie made it?, he asked himself. She had been only a fleeting acquaintance but Nick had felt a certain bond with her he had been too afraid to explore.

Nick left the bed, feeling how the other patients followed him with their eyes, as if they feared he could go mad again. Since he stayed calm and made no quick movements the doctors let him go. He almost knew where to go. He had only visited this place for one time and hadn't been impressed, but he believed that he had been unfair in his joy-soaked confidence. But even if not, it would be enough for his current needs. Strolling through the town like that, he just now noticed how freely he could move. There were no Bobbies around. Perhaps they just didn't wear their uniforms and hid their true identities, Nick toned down his own apprehension. Had they really been this tall or had they only come across as that? Did Hunt make it?

Nick didn't hurry searching the block until he found the right house. The ringing of the bell above the door startled him when he entered. Standing in the door frame, he waited for somebody to appear at the counter, but no one came. Suddenly the place looked very sad. Nick let the door fall shut and felt pity for the shop. Everything was covered in dust. It hadn't been open for a while, he guessed. He took his time to study the supply and ended up walking back and forth between two guitars, one with a blue and one with a sunburst finish. Blue had always been exciting for Nick. It demanded attention, especially in combination with sparkling silver. It said “Look at me, love me, I'm a star!” The sunburst however aroused old desires and dreams, the beginning of something new with an uncertain outcome. Curiosity. Nick didn't feel like blue, so he took the sunburst guitar from it's holders and blew the dust off it.

With his loot he left the shop and wandered through the district for a few minutes, looking for a convenient place. When he found it, he simply sat down on the ground and started to play. He remembered the song that Morrie had liked and he played it so gently as if he caressed the strings. “Now I've seen everything...”, he hummed. Yes, that was it.

It's not the song you wanted, Morrie, but it's the best I can do.

Playing along like that, he attracted other Wellies. Some simply went by, shortly giving him a glance. Many however stayed. Under Nick's spell, they just couldn't decide whether they should continue to work or make a pause, close their eyes and let all worries go. Some simply accepted the invitation and more followed. Also Nick felt better. The town had been so quite all the time. In the old days, there had always been a happy melody, from the broadcasts or the radios in the shops...It had been natural.

More Wellies gathered around him and Nick was happy about them. It meant that he didn't need to be Nick Lightbearer to make people enjoy his music. That even though he'd never slip into his old role again he could continue to do what he loved. If he could bear a lonely life like this. It was a shame that Arthur wasn't there.

Suddenly he saw three people approach him. They stood out from the others because they didn't move slowly and carefully or sat down in a certain distance to him. Instead, they stepped closer with determination. Didn't they like the song? Nick fell silent and looked up to them. Only now he could recognize the dirty and pale faces as those of his friends. Nick stared at them speechlessly.

“Hello Norbert, still the old charmer, aren't you?”, Chris asked. Yet he couldn't hide that seeing his old friend after all this didn't leave him cold. Nick beamed at him. “Yeah, I thought...this is all I can do...” He pointed at his new treasure. “How are you doing?” He stood up. “Well...poxy, just like everyone...” Chris scratched his neck. “But at least we didn't lose anyone.” Nick nodded wistfully. “Hey, how about we celebrate our reunion somewhere?”, Brad offered. “Count me in, but where can we go?” Nick hadn't seen a pub yet that was still in service. “We know a place. Follow us”, Matt said. “You wouldn't be yourself if you didn't find a working bar...” Nick shouldered his guitar and followed. “Just like old times, Nicky.”

Nick was surprised how casual they acted. Of course he was glad that James' drug didn't cause great damage, whatever he had given them. Still, he expected that they would bring it up some time.

They went into a narrow alley where none of the shops seemed to be open, but the band kept going on. Finally, they stopped in a backyard. Nick looked around and found it very lifeless. “Now what?” He turned back to them. Suddenly, Chris snatched the guitar from him. “Hey, careful! This could be the last of it's kind!”, Nick warned him, wondering about his friend's weird behaviour. Chris put the precious instrument down on the cobblestone. Then Nick suddenly received a forceful push from Brad that made him dash against the wall. “Are you crazy?”, Nick protested. Brad didn't look like he had done it by accident. The others flanked him and Nick didn't like their expressions at all. He realised what they could do to him here, in secret and nobody would notice.

“What's wrong with you?” Nick's voice was higher than intended. Brad planted himself in front of him. “With us?”, he snapped. “You better tell us what's wrong with you! We remember a lot of crazy shit happening and we want answers!” “What happened the night Morrie followed you outside?”, Matt shouted. Chris added spitefully: “How convenient that the new lover just showed up!” It seemed like everybody knew Nick's preferences now. “I knew Arthur before! You know that Matt, you already gave me a thrashing for this!”, Nick replied desperately. “And where's Virgil, huh?”, Brad asked, closing up to him. “Speak up, where is he?” Nick squeezed himself against the wall. “He's...he's dead...”, he stuttered, turning his head away. “Yes”, Brad said. “And you drag along a substitute right after!” “Also, you come home covered in blood!”, Chris added. “Then you bring the new guy and he's drugging us into oblivion so we can't see how creepy all of this is...!” “Does he really have red eyes or was I seeing things?”, Matt asked. “And you even dress like him!”, Chris shouted in consternation.”Some crazy shit is going on between you two and we were completely helpless!” “Right before the revolution you run off with your new friend and abandon us while hell breaks loose!”, Matt shouted. “And now when everything's over you''re sitting here warbling a song! I could...!” Brad held him back. “Not yet.” Then he turned back to Nick. “Norbert, you fucked up a lot of things in your life, really”, he said almost gently. “You've always been a spoiled piece of shit but we loved you anyway. We forgave you all your antics in the past so you could be a part of us again. We thought you're really sorry.” He shook his head. “All this time we didn't know who you actually are and you didn't even have the decency to keep us out of this! We won't get your friend, he's too smart to fall into our hands but we can get you and he would hopefully vanish and catch the plague somewhere!” They closed the circle around him.

“No, wait!”, Nick cried. “I never wanted this! I...blundered into it by accident! Believe me, I wasn't myself! I didn't kill Morrie! And Virgil...” He buried his face in his hands. The memories came back with a vengeance and this time he couldn't fight them off. “I...kneeled before him and James led my hand because I didn't want to cut him...”, he said, enduring the scene one more time. “His heart was still beating, I sensed it and that wasn't right. But James reasoned with me and held my hand tight so I couldn't pull it away...We made a few cuts...I didn't move because I was afraid to mess it up...Then James flew into a frenzy. He pushed me away and attacked Virgil. He downright hacked him into pieces and I was only watching...” He broke out in tears. “When he was done, he put Virgil into my arms...” He held up his arms to demonstrate. “Like that...He was still warm...But his heart...It was quiet...” Nick turned his head away, sobbing heavily. The band fell silent and exchanged shocked glances. “Holy shit...”, Chris was the first to retrieve his voice. “Why, Norbert? Why?”, Matt blurted out. “Blackberry Joy...”, Nick said quietly. “He said it's Blackberry Joy, but that's not what it was. At first, it made my head clearer and I thought it helped me. But then I became his spineless slave...I told you I was in rehab...He was my therapist.” The others only stared. “I wanted to become a better person! He said he could help me! I was alone and at the end of the rope, I needed someone to give me a second chance, so I went along! I didn't want any of this!” “Where is he now?”, Brad asked, barely containing himself. Nick slid down on his knees. “You don't have to worry about him anymore...He's...I cut him...” The band was speechless again. “Now it's over”, Nick concluded. “The damage is done...”

Chris' outburst broke the silence. “I can't believe it! How stupid are you? You play along all this time, watch this guy cut people into pieces and don't get it? You let him kill your fans and your closest friends and don't ask any questions? He could've killed us all and you would've watched us die!” Nick curled up in a ball. Brad held Chris back. “Wait...now you're overreacting.” “Really? Now you suddenly like him again? Would you let me get away with it? Do you think he's so dumb we shouldn't expect anything better from him or what? Don't be docile, he plays on that!” “I didn't see you act the hero when you were drugged!” “But he felt better at first, that's what he said! So why can't I expect him to use his damn brain?” Nick looked up to them again. “Please...If you can't stand me anymore, let me go...I'll end myself, jump from a roof or something. I have no one left. But please don't kill me, not you...not my friends...” “What about Arthur?”, Matt said quietly. Nick bowed his head. “James wanted me to kill him, but I couldn't do it. Instead I freed him and he ran away. Later he freed me and we wanted to escape together...”. New tears came. “The rail tunnel collapsed...and suddenly I was here...and he...” Nick shook his head. “Nobody saw him...nobody knows where he is...perhaps they don't want to tell me...” Nick cried again.

“What a coincidence though...that you survived and he's missing...”, Chris muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. “Chris, this is going too far!”, Brad warned. “Yeah, yeah, I know...It's not his fault again, right?”, the lead guitarist snapped. “Just...piss off, all of you!” They watched him leave, following the alley and disappearing behind a corner. “Where do you live?”, Brad asked Nick calmly. “In the church...”, Nick sobbed. “If we let you go, would you promise me to not kill yourself?” Nick was surprised but wary. “Why not?” “Because I don't want it!”, Brad said with emphasis. “Okay?” Nick nodded. “Okay...”

Dejected, he shouldered his guitar again, cast a last meek glance at his friends and then went straight to the church just as he had promised. The other Wellies stared at him again while he walked up to his bed. He assumed it was because of his guitar this time. He tenderly put it next to his bed and petted it's glossy, varnished body. Sleep didn't come easy. He felt like he had lost the only person in the world that had forgiven him his mistakes. Now staying here, begging his band for forgiveness or watching them move on without him wasn't something that motivated him to stay alive. He regretted making the promise. Chris was right. He was too eager to let others tell him what to do. He was an idiot. It still hurt that Chris thought he could do something to Arthur...If he had seen them together...huddled up against each other until the end...Nick still felt Arthur's hands on him. He should've punched Chris for that. Well, he could catch up on it tomorrow. Yes, that was something to keep himself alive for. A smile flashed over his face. It would probably be the last thing he'd do in his life. The fun didn't last long though. His situation was too depressing to be amused about it. Nick simply asked for more painkillers that made him tired enough to finally fall asleep.

Arthur tensed up when the ceiling came down. He clutched Nick, willing to never let him go. He was still clutching when he woke up. Also, he was very baffled about feeling no pain. Everything was quiet and he seemed to still hold Nick in his arms. When he opened his eyes he found himself lying in an unknown bed and what he hugged turned out to be only a very expensive looking blanket. Arthur lifted it up, but there was nobody underneath it. He was alone in this bedroom that seemed like it belonged to a wealthy household. Arthur got up to look out of the window. It was getting dark. The shapes of the houses told Arthur that he wasn't in the Parade District.

How did he get here? Did he dream his escape with Nick? Where was Nick?

Arthur left his room and entered a corridor that was lined with dark wood. The floorboards slightly creaked when he walked over them. Promptly he made more careful steps since he didn't trust this one bit. He'd rather free Nick from wherever he was and disappeared. Arthur opened the next door and found another bedroom. It was empty though. Disappointed, he quietly shut it again. He had hoped Nick to be in the same floor as him, but actually he could be everywhere and his kidnapper too.

After Arthur had found an empty bathroom, he reached a staircase that belonged to a bigger hall. Arthur could look down into the ground floor, where he assumed the entrance hall to be. Before he reached that, he had to cross another floor, where he hopefully had more success. When he stood in the corridor, he heard silent music. Not the Make Believes, it was classical music. This could be his kidnapper. If they were distracted enough, Arthur had a chance to overwhelm them.

Arthur followed the music and entered a room that looked like an office, with tall shelves full of books and a heavy desk. He still crouched on the floor when he froze in surprise, staring at the woman at the desk. Victoria Byng? What did she want from him? Punishing the rotten Downer? If she had Nick in her grip it meant trouble. Victoria was indeed distracted. She read a bunch of papers at once and now and then wrote something down. She seemed to be in a hurry, almost as if she didn't take her Joy. Arthur guessed that the music was supposed to calm her down.

Arthur scuttered over to her and put her in a headlock. “Lovely day for it!”, he greeted her loudly. This didn't fail to have the desired effect. She was startled. "Arthur! Arthur, stop! Let me explain!", she shouted while trying to wriggle herself out of his grip. Arthur didn't let go. "Where is Nick?" "You mean the man who's been with you?", she guessed. Arthur recalled that Nick didn't look like himself during their escape. "He's fine. The doctors take care of him", she went on explaining. Arthur's heart skipped a beat and he fastened his grip. "The doctors?", he snapped. "Not the Joy-Doctors!", she quickly added. "The real ones. Actually the few real ones we still have." Her tone made him relax. "You've been really lucky, you and him. People tried to get through the rail tunnel to escape and when they dug through the debris in panic they found you alive. Other bodies were crushed during the collapse. The tunnel is still not open and they keep finding bodies...it's a disaster..." She paused, burying her face in her hands. Arthur let go. "What happened? Why did so many Wellies stop taking Joy?" She stared at her desk. "I think I am responsible for this...", she said quietly.

"You of all people? Had a bad batch? Or were you just sick of eating rats?" "I have a good friend that opened my eyes...Made me a Downer, so that I can see what I've done..." Her tone was full of pain and regret. "I shut down the Joy supplies and even blew up Haworth Labs. I hoped people would understand and act reasonably...I didn't want to start a civil war..." "It's better than starving to death I guess..." Arthur said, being overwhelmed by what he had heard. "Now at least some of them have a chance to survive..." "I could've saved all of them if not...." She dwelled in thoughts. Arthur found it was odd that he had to comfort a depressed Victoria Byng but he tried nonetheless. "You did the right thing", he said. "I saw the town die right before my eyes. This would've had a much worse ending if everyone kept taking Joy." She smiled a little. "Not many see it that way. Many come here to tell me that I ruined their fun and that they now have to face their guilt and feel hunger and sadness. It doesn't help that there is still no way out." "What about the mainland? Can't we contact them?" "That's what I'm trying to do." She pointed at the phone on her desk. "This is useless by the way. It only works within Wellington Wells. There are some booths in the Garden District but somebody manipulated them to spread mysterious messages. Do you know a Mr. Kite?" "Er..." Arthur scratched his neck. "I heard the messages but I didn't get much out of them. Prudence was talking to him, I think." She widened her eyes. "Prudence? Where is she now?" "I don't know", Arthur regretted to say. "Perhaps she made it out..." Victoria started back at her desk. "Oh, Pru..." Silence ensued.

Arthur suddenly felt uncomfortable standing there. "By the way...why am I here?" She looked up to him again, her expression once more full of regret. "I...I wanted to tell you...all of this...I'm so glad you're alive...I remember clearly how I chased you out and sent the Bobbies after you. This could've been the last time I saw you and I just didn't care...because I was so goddamn happy." She slammed the desk with her hands. Then she got up and came closer. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I just hope you can recover and move on. If there's anything you need... I found supplies my father had collected for himself over the years..." She made a disgusted face. "The doctors do what they can to help the injured...and others try to clear the tunnel. I suppose one day we'll find a way out and perhaps also this town will be worth living in until then." "And what about the Bad Thing? Do you know where they brought the children?" Arthur barely kept his voice from shaking. She furrowed her brows. "There should be files in the Executive Committee. I sent them a message a while ago, but either there's nobody there or the blower broke...I didn't find the time to go there myself yet." "Then I'll go! Give me a permission I can show them, something, to do research on this. I need to find my brother", Arthur urged her. "Your brother? Oh, Arthur, I'm sorry..." She fetched a piece of paper and wrote something on it. "There you go. I'll send them a message that you're coming, just in case." Arthur took the letter. "Thank you." "No problem." They looked at each other in unusual consensus. "Will you be okay?", she asked softly. "Yes...Just tell me where Nick is." "They brought him to the church in the Parade District. The doctors have a base there."

Arthur said goodbye and hurried to go to the Parade District. It was weird to cross Maidenholm again. This part of the town was not as badly damaged as the Parade, since most Wellies had been at the Memorial Festival that certain night, but despite that it was very empty and lifeless. No Bobbies patrolled and Arthur almost missed them. He could cross the bridge without any fuss and even though he knew what to expect he had to stop and stare at the remnants of the once most noble district. Arthur remembered where the church was, so he quickly went there and knocked at the door. A man opened and lit his face up with a flashlight. "Who is it?" "My name is Arthur Hastings. I'm looking for a friend...," Arthur answered politely. "Arthur Hastings, ey?", the man blurted out as if he knew him, eyeing him up and down. "Well, you match the description." "Did he ask for me?" Arthur was puzzled "He ate his heart out!" The man stepped aside to let Arthur in. Inside, he spoke quieter. Arthur saw that the church was filled with beds and the patients were sleeping. "I guess he's asleep right now..." They went along, passing by multiple beds until they stopped. Arthur recognised him immediately and kneeled down before the bed. "Nick...", he sighed. Then he looked back at the man. "May I stay here for the night? I want to be there when he wakes up," he whispered. "Sure", the man answered. He led the way to where they kept the unused beds and they put one next to Nick's. Arthur crawled inside, looking at his peacefully sleeping lover, and felt happy.

#we happy few #whf #wehappyfew #nick lightbearer #whfnicklightbearer #whfnick #whf nick #whfarthurhastings #arthur hastings we happy few #whfarthur #nick x arthur #fanfiction

4 notes · View notes

mostfacinorous · 4 years ago

Text

Stoki Whumptober Day 30: Now where did that come from? (sorry it’s so late! I made it long to help make up for it.) [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21][22][23][24][25][26][27][28][29]

Steve stayed abed for three days-- the longest, Loki was told, and by him no less, that he’d ever followed orders to relax for, and then only because Loki came down to spend the time with him.

If the other Avengers found this odd, they did not say as much to either Loki or Steve, and if they would have preferred their time alone with Steve during their visits, Loki would have been quick to go-- save that none asked.

And so, over the course of three days, he found himself in a myriad of odd social interactions with people he’d tried to kill or manipulate, and was surprised at how… simple it was. Easy.

There was some tension still, of course; none of them would pretend there wasn’t. However, the suspicion he’d expected, the derision or outright hatred? That was nowhere to be found. They were cautious, but varying levels of polite.

The widow was witty and interesting to talk to. She challenged him to a game of chess that he very much looked forward to, and Steve joked again about their combined likelihood of wrecking the rest of the team in any competition due to unfair mental advantage.

Barton came to visit, bringing pizza with him, and they broke bread and had beer, and while he was a touch skittish, it seemed that Steve’s presence had a calming effect on both he and Loki.

Banner came to check on Steve with his own medical knowledge, and to be certain that nothing was going awry, no bones mending improperly or anything. Not, he insisted, that he doubted Loki’s knowledge, but simply for his own peace of mind.

He and Loki and Steve had ended up discussing differing medical techniques from each of their own homes- Steve’s being so far in the past that half of it was forgotten, like, apparently, telling asthmatics to smoke for the good of their lungs, and forcing anemics to eat large helpings of offal to help their iron levels. In addition, Loki learned that Steve’s mother was a healer in his youth, which, Loki thought, explained much of his urge to help others and save those who needed saving.

Loki was more familiar with herbal and magical remedies, and though Banner insisted repeatedly that he wasn’t that kind of doctor, his knowledge of modern science based medical practices was fairly impressive.

And while clearly they all wondered where this was going, only Stark and Barnes were so bold as to ask directly.

Separately, of course, but with an amusingly similar lack of tact.

“So uh-- you guys hooked up on your little time adventure?” Stark asked, during a lull in his questions about the power outage and its cause. Loki would have spluttered had he not been trained in how to hide responses from years in court.

Steve on the other hand, had been in the process of drinking, and he genuinely choked on the water in his mouth.

Loki was up in an instant, patting him on the back and glaring at Stark, who raised his hands defensively.

“Just saying, you come back and you can’t seem to get enough of one another. You can’t blame a guy for wondering.”

“We did not hook up, we nearly died, repeatedly!” Steve protested, his face glowing red under the scrutiny.

“So that’s a no?” Stark asked, looking to Loki for confirmation.

“Stark, our lack of sex lives is really none of your concern. I care for the Captain, which I think is your real question. Beyond that-- we shall see.” Loki glanced at Steve to make sure he hadn’t overstepped, and found such adoration on his face that for a moment, it took Loki’s breath away.

“Oh. Yeah, well, alright.” Stark seemed taken aback, but recovered quickly. “I feel like I should… you know, give you a minute.” He got up and made his way to the door, and Loki followed him.

“I promise you, Stark, he is in good hands.” Loki said softly.

Stark shook his head. “I don’t doubt it. And call me Tony. Have you talked to your brother?”

Loki looked away. “I do not imagine he would take so kindly to this news.” Loki hedged, speaking softer still. “And I do not believe he wishes to see me.”

Tony shrugged. “I get it. I won’t say anything. But it might be worth seeing if you can fix the family drama. Family’s kinda important to Steve, after all-- I imagine he’ll want you to try, too.”

Loki felt a wave of anxious nausea hit him at that, but he just nodded and closed the door behind Stark.

He hadn’t even made it back to Steve’s room when the next knock came, and Barnes let himself in shortly after, not waiting for Loki to answer.

Barnes looked Loki up and down, crossed his arms, and met his eyes dead on.

“You and Stevie an item now?” He asked, point blank.

Loki sighed.

“Your people have so many ways to ask this question. I care for him a great deal, yes.”

“Buck? Stop harassing my guy and get in here.” Steve called from the other room, and that was that.

Barnes was far more interested in the stone, and the stories of the effects of it that Loki had suffered.

He seemed, grudgingly, to accept that long jumps were a bad idea, and that something like remaking his past was… perhaps not the greatest of plans. Especially given that he was closer to whatever Steve was than what Loki was, and he couldn’t handle it near so well.

He left, with much to mull over, and Loki relaxed into the idea that the stone might, at last, be safe.

---

At length, even Loki had to admit that Steve was well again. He healed fast and he needed no more rest-- he was back at the top of his abilities.

Which meant it was time to have their conversation, despite having had parts of it through others.

“So. You care for me, huh?” Steve asked, grinning.

Loki felt his anxiousness bubbling rapidly to a boil within him.

“I should hope that was fairly obvious.” He said quietly, carefully not looking Steve in the eye.

“It is. It’s just nice to hear.” Steve assured him. “Because I feel the same.”

Loki smiled and looked up, then.

“So, where does that leave us?”

“Not enemies, I hope.” Steve started, and Loki laughed.

“No, hardly that.”

“Would you consider-- in my time, we called it going steady. Now I guess it’s just… dating?”

“Is that the same as courtship?”

Steve flushed at that, and Loki smirked a little, charmed.

“Yeah, uh, I guess it’s similar.”

“Good. Then I would like to declare my intent to court you, Steve Rogers. If you’ll have me.”

“Oh, uh yeah. I don’t… know what courtship entails, but yeah, I’ll have you. And um, if you’ll show me how, I want to do the same. Court you, I mean.” Steve was adorably flustered, and it made Loki feel a little steadier on his feet. He stepped forward and took Steve’s hand.

“On Asgard, it’s gifts. Treasures and prizes won, deeds done in your name. It’s a matter of proving oneself worthy of the person they love, and making their partner feel wanted and adored.”

“Oh.” Steve said quietly. “That’s uh, nice, but you don’t have to buy me gifts.”

Loki tilted his head, then nodded.

“I’ll prove myself in deeds, then. And to that end, I would invite you to consider me, if not part of your team, at least at your disposal, if I can be of help in any matter that affects you or your friends.” Loki paused, then added, “So long as it doesn’t involve my using the damned timestone again.”

Steve cracked a smile at that, though he looked like he was thinking very hard.

“Is there anything in particular that you can think of you’d like from me?” He asked, sounding the most timid that Loki thought he’d been for this entire conversation.

Loki squeezed his hands reassuringly and lifted a finger to his lips in a pretense of thinking. “Hmm.” He said. “I can think of one thing, right now.”

Steve seemed to perk up a bit at that, endearingly eager to please.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“Kiss me?” Loki responded, trying not to feel too shy or embarrassed for asking.

However, Steve seemed entirely happy to oblige.

It was a little clumsy, as if Steve had had little experience, but that was hardly a problem; by the time they pulled apart, Loki was panting a little and Steve had turned an incredibly fetching shade of pink.

They rested their foreheads together for a moment and just held one another.

It was an altogether perfect start.

And so it was that, a day or two later, when the Avengers were called out to do some world saving mission, Loki found himself following Steve to board the quinjet and report for duty.

He was stopped, though, with a powerful grip on his shoulder holding him back.

He turned to find himself face to face with Thor, and swallowed.

He’d been so happy with Steve, he had fully forgotten his once-brother was still on Midgard.

“Thor.” He greeted, cautiously but trying for politeness.

“Whatever this game is, abandon it now and return to whatever cave you crawled from.” Thor was stern and his voice thunderous with threats unspoken.

“Thor.” Steve’s, on the other hand, was commanding, and Loki looked up to see him at the top of the steps, one hand on the body of the quinjet. “Loki offered to help us. Same as you. Don’t endanger the team with your drama. That stays here, or you do.”

“I?” Thor asked, shocked that he should be benched in a competition between he and Loki.

It made butterflies flit through Loki’s stomach.

“You’re the only one who seems to have a problem with working with him.” Steve said simply, and Loki realized that was true. Even Barton seemed to be coming around; albeit on his own time.

Thor, clearly annoyed, brushed past Loki to board the quinjet, stopping beside Steve to drop a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“I hope,” Thor said lowly, “That you know what you are doing. Not everyone deserves redemption.”

Steve turned his head to look him square in the eye. “Everyone who wants redemption should be allowed to claim it.” Steve said, loudly enough for it to carry to both Loki and everyone inside.

Thor shook his head, but entered the plane with no further words, and Steve deplaned to take Loki’s hand in his.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly.

In honesty, Loki was shaking. But he pushed it down and refused to let Steve know how affected he was. He didn’t want to be left behind for it. “I am. Let’s go save your people.” He squeezed Steve’s hand, then dropped it to board their transport.

It was a fast ship, as fast if not faster than an Asgardian vessel, and it landed them at their destination less than two hours after they left.

“We’re about an hour outside of Lakhimpur, near the Ghaghara river.” The widow explained. “There are reports that SHIELD vehicles have been spotted around here-- Fury, however, didn’t send them, and doesn’t have any record of missing assets, which means we’re probably dealing with Hydra. And, it seems they are taking hostages, mostly in the medtech field. We’re going to find them, free them, and put a stop to whatever Hydra’s doing. And, on the off chance it has anything to do with samples they took from Steve…” She trailed off and looked from Loki to Barnes, “We have two experts on destroying that present.”

“Thanks, Nat.” Steve said, standing up. “We’re not too concerned about being quiet. I don’t want any innocent deaths, if we can avoid it, and no harming any landmarks, if they’ve taken over anything that might be culturally important. This isn’t our country, let’s be respectful. Everything else, though? Anything that Hydra is proud of? I wanna see it go up in smoke.”

There was a shared expression of pleasure at that, and Loki noted that Thor was, again, staring at him. He kept his eyes on Steve.

“Okay, so, we’ve got sightings on this road here,” Steve pointed on the map,”that leads into the trees. Locals who have tried to see where they go have not returned. My thought is to stage an ambush, steal a vehicle, work our way into the compound in disguise, and destroy them from the inside out. But, we could use a distraction, to get everyone scurrying. So, once we have the car, I want Tony and Thor overhead to give them something to focus on and something to fight. Stay out of range if possible, but draw their attention away from us on the ground while we get the lay of the land.”

Tony and Thor nodded.

“Bruce, Nat, Clint, you three are together once we get inside. I want you to get to the medical labs. Nat, get whatever you can off of their machines, and then wipe them, as fast as possible. You three have some Hindu and some Urdu between you, so you should be able to talk to the hostages. I want you to head up evac for the civilians. Loki, Bucky and I will handle the higher ups. And then on my signal, Tony, Thor, Bruce, feel free to tear it to the ground.”

“I like this plan.” Tony said, intentionally overly chipper, and there were scattered nods throughout the ship.

The plan went mostly as it was laid out. They took down the soldiers in the car and climbed aboard, Barton, Bruce, and Natasha donning their clothing and Steve, Loki, and Bucky hiding in the back.

Loki could hear the sounds of thunder just as they crossed the bridge that led up to the building their car had been headed towards, and the distracted Hydra guards let them in in a hurry.

Once parked, they split up to see to their assigned tasks.

Loki used his trick of diverting the eyes of onlookers, so that Steve, Bucky and he were all but invisible. They made their way deeper and higher up in the building, watching where the more decorated soldiers emerged from, and following that path.

The first problem arose when it became clear that some of the civilians were being held here, close to the officers, and not down with the others that Natasha, Bruce, and Barton were meant to be getting out.

“I’ll take them.” Barnes offered, once he’d broken the neck of one of the men guarding the cell, and Loki had buried a knife in the throat of the other.

Loki was quick to agree; though he had the Allspeak, he was loathe to leave Steve on his own, particularly after what a similar group had done to him.

So he spoke to the people inside, learned that they were the missing doctors, and told them that he was here with the Avengers, and the man with the metal arm would be leading them to safety.

“Just get them down to the other group, if you can-- I don’t want you trying to take them all out on your own. Meet up and help the others, so you have someone on your six.”

Barnes snapped off a sarcastic looking little salute.

“Yes sir, captain sir.” Barnes said, and Steve huffed and rolled his eyes, but smiled.

“How long have you known him?” Loki asked as they continued moving deeper into the Hydra hold.

“My whole life, really, save the part where we were on ice or brainwashed, respectively.”

Loki shook his head.

“It is a strange life you’ve led, my captain. Stranger than most.”

They found the room that was home to those in a position of command, and found them all on phones or huddled around visual feeds of Thor and Tony, raining down annoyance on them from above.

“But why?” One was saying. “They could be destroying us, why are they toying with us?”

“Because,” Said one man, who looked distinctly unlike the rest. Something about him reminded Loki of Barnes, when they’d first met. He was standing very straight, coiled and ready to spring, and he all but vibrated with barely contained power. Most importantly, he was looking directly at Steve and Loki. “Their friends are inside.”

Loki darted forward, immediately placing himself between the man and Steve, which proved to be a good decision. The man pulled out a throwing knife and Loki caught it, reversing it and throwing it back towards him. It landed, and he pulled it from his shoulder and let it fall to the ground as if it was no more bothersome than a fly.

“Steve, take care of the rest, they still have a hard time seeing you!” Loki instructed, squaring off against this one.

The man lunged forward, one hand still holding a knife, which he brought up and under Loki’s ribs, but Loki blocked it-- the blade bouncing harmlessly off of his bracer. The man’s other hand was empty but the fist that made contact with the side of Loki’s head may as well have been concrete.

Loki’s vision blacked out briefly, and he felt himself get stabbed in the side, but it didn’t seem to have done much damage. When he could see properly again, he wrested the knife free of the man and caught his arms in Loki’s own, turning it into a test of sheer strength.

And the man was strong-- stronger than a run of the mill human.

“He’s been modified!” Loki yelled for Steve’s benefit, the words coming out strained as he spoke through his teeth.

“I understand I have you to thank!” the man told Loki. “You left him, and they made me from part of him.”

Loki snarled and took the man’s legs out from under him, landing neatly atop his chest and pinning his arms with Loki’s knees.

“Shame it took you so long to find us; there’re dozens of men like me, now. Cut off one head--”

Loki felt another body crash into his back, but he stayed focused on the man beneath him. Loki summoned another of his knives-- the longer ones for close range fights, this time-- and slid it home through his trachea.

The man fell back and was no more.

Loki turned his attention, then, to the body that had fallen on him-- it was not Steve, which was all that mattered.

He found Steve at a bank of computers, holding a dead man’s hand to a fingerprint reader.

“A good trick.” Loki commented, as he sidled up to him. “I’m afraid I have some bad news, though.” He said, nodding at the man he’d taken out. “It seems we did not get every sample.”

Steve set his jaw.

“Yeah, I’m seeing that. Jesus-- there’s four of them here. We have to warn the others.”

Loki nodded, and watched as Steve inserted a drive into the computer, which then went to work, downloading files and leaving its own behind.

Loki used the communications device he’d been given.

“In case you’ve not run into them yet, there are soldiers as strong as Steve here. Three of them, at least.”

“Fuck!” he heard from Barton, and Steve shook his head but got the drive removed as all of the screens around him began to malfunction.

“Buck, you with the main group?”

“I’m here, the civilians have all been rounded up, according to them we got everyone. On our way out to the car now.”

“Great.” Steve answered.

“Bruce, you wanna go join Tony and Thor, maybe get a little green?”

“On it.”

“As soon as everyone’s clear, I want this place reduced to rubble.”

Steve said over the intercom, before cutting his mic.

“Then let’s get ourselves out of here.” Loki said. “Here, I’ll lead-- just in case they send more of those soldiers our way. I can put up a shield that covers more than yours.”

Steve smiled.

“Real glad you’re on our side, now.” He told Loki shortly, and dropped a quick peck to his lips. “Let’s go.”

Loki did as he said he would, erecting a shield and leading them to safety. They did not encounter the advanced soldiers, which he considered a mixed blessing, and by the time they gained the outside of the compound, the Hydra troops were attempting to fall back.

They let them, checked in with Natasha, and gave the destruction crew the all clear.

Without a car, and with the Quinjet parked on the other side of the wooded area, that meant they were on foot. But at least the company was pleasant, and the enemy was distracted.

“Not bad for a first outing.” Steve said, but his attempt at joviality sounded pinched.

“We will find the rest of these advanced soldiers.” Loki promised him, guessing at what was bothering him.

“Yeah, we’re going to have to.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, still looking distressed, and Loki reached out for him, taking his hand and marveling again at the warmth of him, and how well they fit together.

The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and he could see it in the slant of Steve’s shoulders. He leaned in and kissed him, really kissed him, this time, no quick mid-battle peck, and Steve pulled him in close.

When they broke apart, Loki was light headed, and Steve was looking besotted. He reached up to push some of Loki’s hair behind his ear, and froze.

Steve stumbled backwards, and Loki saw why: his hand was covered in blood.

Loki twisted and twitched aside the cape that was sticking to his side, only to see the knife wound he’d forgotten about earlier.

“Ah.” He said.

The lightheadedness, it turned out, was perhaps at least partially due to blood loss.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured Steve, pressing his hand to his own side with the bloody cape to put pressure on the wound.

And then, from the trees, the three missing soldier attacked, as if they had smelled his weakness.

“Awh, shit.” Loki heard Steve say, just before something was shoved over his head, and he was knocked unconscious.

#Stoki Whumptober2020 #Stoki #Frostshield #capfrost #steveloki #steve/loki #stevexloki #lokisteve #loki x steve #loki/steve #mcu fanfic #whumptober #That Writing Thing I do

21 notes · View notes