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thyme-in-a-bubble · 3 months

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the soaring arrow

fused with the foe, chapter two

a/n: we getting somewhere in this one... progress... and by progress, i of course mean that we are one chapter closer to when they finally get to be happy and in love.

summary: “…do you still wanna learn?”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, violence, gore, injury, weapons, big scary dire bear, a bit of a cliffhanger of an ending to this chapter (the drama is here, it has arrived, in the majestic for of [spoiler])

word count: 4706

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Rising yet again from the plush stool, your feet carried you the short distance back around to the opposing seat. Your elbow came to rest against the edge of the small games table as you glanced down at the chequered board and your chin swiftly found your propped-up palm as a bored breath seeped from your lungs.

As you moved one of the ivory pieces, the thoughts you’d been trying to keep at bay for weeks slipped through ever so slightly. The king hadn’t talked to you since the wedding, in fact, whenever you’d been in the same room with each other, his gaze never found you.

You might as well have been invisible.

The arm beneath your face slowly melted down till it layed flat against the table and you let your head follow along. Slumped over, your cheek pressed against your forearm.

Raising your gaze from your up-close perspective of the chess pieces, it fell upon the man leaning

against the wall by the exit. Dark locks only half tied up, a crossbow was strapped to his broad back as his stormy gaze stayed low and locked on the small dagger he absentmindedly twirled and flipped in his fingers.

Letting out another sigh, you didn’t bother straightening out before you asked, “so, is this just how it’s gonna be?”

Halting his fiddling, Barnes’ eyes met yours, “pardon me, your majesty?”

“You just lurking wherever I am, is that how it’s gonna be for the rest of my life?” you lifted yourself only slightly so that both of your palms pressed into your soft cheeks to prop it up.

“No, I’m just here till you get settled, then I’ll go back to my usual business,” the advisor stated.

“And when will that be?”

“I don’t know, your majesty,” he sheathed the short blade at his side, “why? If it’s because you don’t care for my presence then please just say so, I won’t be offended if you’d rather have a different warden looking out for you.”

“No,” you sat up properly, “it’s not that, not at all, I just–… could I maybe go for a walk?” the question hesitantly left your lips.

“Sure, you can,” he nodded slightly, “where do you wanna go? I could show you the Valarian Ward in town, there are lots of museums there you might like–”

“No,” you cut his offer off, “I meant if I could go for a walk on my own.”

“Oh… well, I’m not entirely sure that’s the best idea…” he uttered carefully.

“I am your queen, aren’t I? So, can’t I just command you to let me go by myself?” you tried, blinking up at him like a little puppy, “please, Barnes.”

A low sigh then flowed from his lips as his stare raked across the floor. A moment passed before he opened his mouth again, slowly saying as his gaze stayed averted, “your majesty, I am gonna leave for a moment, I suddenly remembered that I forgot something in my chambers this morning. Please excuse me as I momentarily won’t be here watch where you go,” his eyes flicked up to meet yours, “you got that?”

“Yes,” a bright smile stretched across your features, “I understand what you’re saying,” as you instantly shot up to your feet, “thank you, Barnes.”

Though half regretting his choice already, he still offered you a half-hearted smile, “you’re welcome, your majesty.”

Bending down, you plucked a long-stemmed daisy and added it to the bouquet of wildflowers your left fist was tightly enclosed around. As you lifted yourself back up, your vision washed over the blossoming meadow you stood on, located on the hill directly north of the castle. From here only parts of the seaside community were perceivable, as from this angle the mountainous fortress blocked off the vast majority of Borün city, only the edges closest to the main road, like the city stables and the water mill, caught your gaze. But the farmlands that curved over the rolling hills west of the town had no obstructions in their path. The vision of golden fields as well as wide pens that housed both fuzzy brown cows and round little sheep, that blissfully soaked in the mild afternoon sun, couldn’t help but bring a smile to your lips.

Peeking over your shoulder, the warnings of the king’s right-hand man faintly echoed in your mind as you glanced at the thick forest. Temptation had swayed your feet to carry you dangerously close to the edge. The Noll woods didn’t seem that dangerous from this angle, perhaps it was safe enough on the perimeter and it was just the dangers deep within it that they were so terrified of. So, the next thing you knew, your leisurely stride had crossed the meadow and the dark wilderness had swallowed you whole.

Extending an arm as your feet slowly walked over the crunchy leaves and the pillowy moss clusters, you felt the cool leaves brush against your open palm, almost as if you were greeting each and every one of them as you passed. The chirping birds high up in the dense treetops sang a pleasant melody that caused a bright smile to bloom on your lips.

You weren’t sure how long you ventured forth, deeper and deeper into the twisted forest, but eventually, a small and speckled bush caught your eye, ripe with the vibrant berries you recognised from the layered cake that you had been served for tea just a few days prior. The fabric of the long burgundy cloak you wore billowed behind you as you rushed to pluck the small fruits. A soft hum vibrated at your lips as you tasted their tart sweetness, popping them in your mouth one by one.

Though just as your head was up in the clouds, over the moon about this little slice of paradise you had discovered, a low growl emanated from the tall shrubs just behind the berry bush. Your fingers froze in an instant and the fruits in your berry-stained palm rolled to the ground. Slowly, you raised your gaze as a giant snout pushed through the dense plants and the creature’s rotten breath fanned across your cheeks, causing your stomach to churn.

Holding your breath, petrified with fear, you willed your feet to shuffle back at a terrifyingly slow pace. Your entire body trembled like a leaf on the wind as your eyes stayed glued on the dark animal slowly creeping into the clearing.

A bear, though at least three times the size of any normal one, came stomping into the light. Its footsteps were heavy enough to make the forest floor quake. Long and gnarly teeth curled up over its drooping lip as viscus slobber, and what looked like blood, dripped from its gums, staining the blades of grass below with every hefty step. Nowhere on its scarred skull were something that resembled eyes, so as it sniffed loudly, your hair nearly rustling in the gust, the blind monster detected precisely where you stood.

A snarl rumbled out from its toothy maw as it clawed closer to you like a predator playing with its food just before it pounced. Eclipsing the dabbled sunlight that streamed in through the tree canopy, the massive creature blocked off any chance you had of escape. The petrifying roar it then let out caused your hands to instinctively shoot up in front of your face.

Falling back, you collided with the thick tree trunk right behind you. Adrenaline pumped so furiously throughout your body that the tree almost felt like a pillow, as your body was so filled with terror that it didn’t let you notice any of the pain.

Through your shielding fingers, you caught sight of a swift movement, though it wasn’t the ravaging bear before you. From out of nowhere a broad figure suddenly appeared, slipping in between you and the creature.

Your eyes widened as you saw the king hold a shield up high, groaning from the strain as he blocked the monster’s mighty attack. Drawing a stout axe at his belt, he sliced it low, catching one of the bear’s legs and causing it to reel back enough for him to bash the shield against its snout, sending it back a few paces. The arching blows he then landed on the gnawing beast were a brutal blur to your eyes as he didn’t yield till the monster was slain and its blood stained the mossy forest floor.

Slowly turning to face you, crimson dabbled his features and tainted his beard as he stared you down and roared, “what the hell were you thinking?” his broad chest still heaved from the battle as he took a step closer to you, “you’re not in Obelón anymore, you can’t just wander off!”

“I–… I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your eyes felt heavy as you stumbled to distance yourself from the tree trunk, “I didn’t–”

“You didn’t what?” inching closer, he sheathed his weapons, “think you’d bump into a dire bear? What if it had been something worse, huh? What then? Do you have any idea of what kind of dangers lurk in these shadows?”

Black spots dappled your vision as you just managed a faintly utter, “I’m s-sorr–,” before you collapsed.

As the king caught you in his arms, your cloak unfurled to reveal the silks of your gown ripped and peeking out from the shreds was a grave wound on your waist.

When you finally woke up, you weren’t in the forest any longer, but warm under the covers in your own bed.

You weren’t sure what you noticed first, the familiar surroundings or the sharp sting that throbbed at your side. Wincing silently, you pulled down the blankets and saw the clean cloths that bandaged the injury. As you carefully ran a fingertip over the dressing, a figure at the foot of the bed caught your hazy gaze.

Slumped over on a small stool with his head resting against his folded-up arms, there sat the king, completely out cold.

A clay pitcher of water stood on the adjacent bedside table beside a few empty cups that had a deep green tint to the glass. Carefully, as to not rouse the slumbering monarch, you reached for the jug in order to quench the thirst that scratched at your throat. As your fingertips brushed against the handle and moved it just a tad, an aching wave suddenly washed over you as the attempt stretched and disturbed your injured waist enough for you to recoil back, accidentally tugging at the decanter in the process and retroactively knocking over one of the nearby glasses.

As soon as it smashed to the stone floor, the king bolted up like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you rushed as you clutched your throbbing side and leaned back against the pillows, “I just wanted something to drink.”

Still groggy, he sucked in a breath as he squinted over at you in the bed, “don’t move,” his voice was deep from sleep, “I’ll get it,” and he reached over to fill up the glass that didn’t fall to its doom, “here,” handing it to you, his eyes stayed on you as you took a sip, “how are you feeling?”

Lowing the drink to your lap, you watched the water ripple gently in the glass as you uttered, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking I’d run into any monsters, I just wanted to see the forest. I’ve never been in a real forest before, so I just–… I’m sorry…”

A low sigh flowed from the king’s lips before he asked, “how are you feeling, dove? Does it hurt badly? Because I can fetch you some herbs if it does.”

“It’s not pleasant, but I’ll manage,” as you always did. Your pain tolerance was through the roof when it had to be, “I’m sorry.”

“Would you please stop apologising?” your tense gaze finally flickered up to meet his, “I understand you wandering out on your own, I even understand you wanting to explore the forest, but what I don’t understand is why you didn’t bring a weapon with you. I know you don’t know too much about this kingdom, but you must have a basic understanding of just how dangerous it is, especially The Noll Woods. So why didn’t you bring anything to protect yourself with?”

“What?” you blinked, “I don’t own a weapon.”

Eyes widening, his brows shot up, “you don’t?”

“No…” you shifted lightly under his gaze, “why are you looking at me like that?”

Leaning forward slightly, he asked, “dove, do you not know how to fight?”

“Why would I know how to fight?”

“Why would you–…” he echoed faintly before lowing his gaze to the blankets spread out on the canopy bed, “gods, I knew that Obelón’s high walls helped protect its people from many creatures, but I know even that doesn’t stop the citizens from knowing the basics at least. Why didn’t you ever?” he found your eyes once more, “you’re of royal birth. Why haven’t you been in lessons since you were a child?”

Shifting your grasp around the glass, you uttered, “…my father wouldn’t let me…” your brows were still deeply knitted as you said, “I thought it was improper for fine ladies to have such skills.”

“It’s not,” he shook his head, “trust me. Some of the best fighters I’ve ever known were fine ladies such as yourself.”

“Really?” you couldn’t help but inch forward a bit.

“Yeah, my mom for one taught me a lot of what I know, as well as–…” an unreadable expression briefly washed over his features as his sentence suddenly crumbled, “well, others…”

“I always wanted to learn,” you thought back, “used to spy on my brothers when they were training, even tried to convince Callum to teach me in secret, but none of it ever worked out… my dad always found out and then he’d–…” your gaze stayed locked on the outline of your legs beneath the covers as you felt a shiver run down your spine, “I, uhm… I learned to stop doing that. Going against his rules.”

After he helped you place the glass back beside the pitcher, the king’s deep timbre filled the chamber once more, “…do you still wanna learn?”

The gentle wind kissed your cheeks as you squinted your eyes at the circular target close to the ivy-covered outer wall of the front courtyard. Though the training area stood nestled between the warden’s barracks and the royal stables, the king’s right-hand man had ensured that there wouldn’t be as many people crowding the common area as there usually were, a gesture you’d become thankful for as the act of learning an entirely new skill was intimidating enough without having the added commotion of experts in the field directly next to you, granting you the perspective of just how green you were.

Over countless days, bedridden in your chambers, the wound to your side had scabbed over and healed nearly completely. Though the wait was significant, it hadn’t felt that dreary, since at the first dawn you woke, the king’s presence had been exchanged for a tall stack of meticulously selected books. The majority of them were factual records about Eflorr, the land, the history, everything that had been out of your fingertips in the library of your birthplace. But occasionally in between the tomes of the kingdom were books of completely different genres. There was a wide and worn book of fables that had whimsical illustrations on each page, a pocket-sized novel counting the mystery of a fictional rogue, as well as a collection of flowery poems.

Letting the nocked arrow fly, it didn’t pierce itself into the bullseye your eyes were boring a hole into, but instead joined the cluster lodged in the ground.

“I am never gonna get this,” you muttered, nearly tossing the training bow from you.

“Oh, don’t lose hope yet, your majesty,” you twisted your neck to see Barnes standing by the small, open-style stables adjacent to where you stood, petting the cheek of the black horse that stuck its head over the fence, “you’ve only been going for a few days.”

Drawing another arrow from the quiver not yet strapped to your back, but simply resting on the small stool scooted close, you attempted once more, and though it didn’t hit the target, the arrowhead did wedge itself in between two of the stones on the wall behind it.

“Not bad,” your body jumped at the unexpected voice, “you’re getting closer.”

Spinning around, you saw the king, arms crossed and leaning against the building directly behind you, “your majesty!” your eyes grew to the size of saucers, “h-hello.”

“You need to relax your bow arm more,” he pushed himself off of the wall and walked up to you.

“What?” you blinked, still slightly stunned and scrambling to catch up to the fact that he was even there.

“Here,” he stepped up behind you and a sharp breath of air filled your lungs as his touch found the limb clutching the bow, “you need to relax this arm,” his presence ghosted against your spine as his touch adjusted your appendage to the proper angle, “and lower it just a bit,” plucking up an arrow, he too nocked it for you and let his fingers linger over yours as you drew the string back tight, “use the corner of your lips as an anchor,” as the feathery fletching tickled your cheek, you could have sworn that you felt his curled knuckle shyly brush against your features as well, “and since you’re not very brawny, try and keep a bit of tension right here, it’ll help,” his hand slid down to your waist, the other palm briefly joining on the other side before he let go of you. You could feel the gentle gust of his breath on the shell of your ear as his low voice instructed you, “give it a try.”

The arrow then soared through the air and lodged itself into the outermost ring of the target, “oh my gods,” you squealed, your body victoriously wiggling at the sight, “I did it!”

“Atta girl,” he smiled at the result, and you turned your head to gaze back at him, the fact that he hadn’t shifted back yet caused a shiver to crawl up your spine, “see? I knew you could do it,” his eyes finally flickered down to yours, though when the close proximity dawned on him, only a second passed before his feet began to move, “anyways,” clearing his throat, his vision now seemed to wander over anything but you, “uhm… good job,” he offered your upper arm a small pat, “keep it up,” then turned to the high warden still off to the side, “Buck, I need you to take a look at something for me, up in the war room.”

Giving the horse one last scratch, Barnes answered his friend, “sure thing.”

“You know the king well, correct?” you asked the soldier as he walked with you down to breakfast. At this point, you’d gotten fairly used to Barnes acting as your shadow.

“You could say that,” the corners of his lips curled up in a soft smile, “my mom was a servant here at the castle, so I essentially grew up alongside him. Then as soon as I was old enough, I joined the wardens, partly just to stay at his side. So yes, I do know him well,” he nodded slowly, “I know him very well.”

Rounding the corner, you walked down a long hallway with windows facing out toward the sea all along the right wall. Motes of dust hung suspended in the morning sunbeams that spilt into the hall, perfectly still, like flakes of gold leaf trapped in resin.

Glancing over at him once more as you stepped through one of the golden rays, you slowly opened your mouth once more, “can I ask something?”

“You can ask me anything you’d like,” he met your eye.

“Does–…” you hesitated a moment before averting your gaze to gather up the courage to utter, “does the king have someone else?”

Gently cocking his head, Barnes echoed, “someone else?”

“Does he have someone else?” you repeated, sensing heat creep up in your cheeks.

“Oh, uh,” he breathed as you reached the end of the hallway and he stretched out his arm to push open the door you’d arrived at, “no, not that I know of.”

As he opened the door to the smaller of the dining rooms for you to enter, you noticed that you’d been unconsciously gnawing at the inner part of your bottom lip till it nearly bled and you forced yourself to stop, “alright…”

When you crossed over the threshold, Barnes stayed put on the other side, though offered you a small nod before the heavy doors fell shut behind you.

Turning to face the long table centred in the chamber, your eyes suddenly grew wide as an unexpected figure sat on the far end.

“Good morning,” the king glanced up at you as he popped the piece of strawberry lodged on the tip of his fork into his mouth.

“Your majesty! I–, I–…” you blinked a second, finding it impossible to get your feet to move the last few paces over to your set place, “I thought you took your breakfast up in your personal chambers.”

“Felt like a change in scenery today,” he plucked up a porcelain cup filled with steaming tea and brought it to his lips, though paused before taking a sip, “is that alright?”

“Of course, it is,” a shudder ran through you as you shook yourself out of your stupor and sat down at the table.

A generous spread of options layed arced around your empty plate. From seasonal fruits, cut up and arranged on an oblong platter, to hearty bread, sliced and toasted, propped up for it to stay crisp, the selection never ceased to make your belly rumble in want.

When your plate was filled up and you slowly began to pick away at it, the king’s voice suddenly echoed from the other end of the table.

“Are you busy this afternoon?”

“Busy?” you lifted your gaze and sent it down past the short floral centrepiece to look at him, “no, your majesty, not in particular. Why do you ask?”

His elbow was propped against the edge of the table and his hand gently rested against his beard as he continued to stare at you, “I was wondering if you’d care to promenade with me.”

“I know it doesn’t look like much from this angle,” the king pointed to the dark cave entrance on the cliff that the castle stood upon, “but that emergency exit has saved countless monarchs.”

“So, the tunnel leads up to the basement?” you glanced down to the part of the coastline still a ways further down the pebbly beach.

“Yep, opens up into the wine cellar, it’s actually one of the racks that’s concealed as the door down.”

Glancing up at him as you slowly walked beside one another, an amused smile curled up on your lip, “clever.”

“Yeah, my mom thought so, she was the one who implemented it.”

The corners of your lips then dropped back down, and you waited a second before asking softly, “when did she pass?”

“A while ago now…” his vision briefly flickered down to look at the waves foam at the shore, “anyways, I’d recommend taking a guide with you if you’re gonna go exploring in the cave because it can be easy to get lost if you didn’t grow up with it as your playground.”

“I’ll remember that,” a faint chuckle bubbled out of you.

The pebbles crunched beneath your slow stride as you made your way down the beach, closer and closer to where the fort loomed and the docks beyond flourished into the bustling city.

After he’d bent down to pick up a smooth, dark rock, the royal then spoke in a slightly apprehensive tone, “hey, I actually wanted to talk to you about something…”

Noticing that his stride had halted, you stopped as well, “yes, your majesty?”

His gaze stayed on the small rock in his palm as he turned it a few times, “I know I haven’t exactly been the warmest towards you, I haven’t given you any solid reason to trust or even like me,” his ocean eyes then lifted to meet yours, “but we are supposed to rule together, be a team. So, I propose that we call a truce. Let’s start over and try and be friends,” his broad hand then extended.

Clasping your fingers around his palm, you shook on it, “truce,” and a small smile bloomed as you then returned to your walk.

Your eyes didn’t stray long from him, staring at him inquisitively till he, on a glance, noticed.

“What?”

“It’s just,” you squinted over at the man walking beside you, the water gentle and calm behind him, “I don’t even really know you…”

“Well,” he breathed, as if that setback was easy enough to remedy, “what would you like to know?”

“I don’t know…” as you continued to stare at him, your fingers absentmindedly fiddled with the opalescent stone attached to the chain hanging from your neck, “tell me everything.”

“Everything?” his eyebrows raised a second before he exhaled lowly, “alright… uhm,” he then lowered his gaze as he scrambled his brain, “my favourite colour is blue. I can’t stand pears,” he began to list off, “I know I don’t look it now, but I was a very scrawny kid, sick all the time. I’m excellent at skipping rocks, actually learned how to just down there from an old family friend. What else… uh, I don’t have a lot of free time, but the little I do, I tend to either read, history in particular, as well as draw or paint, whenever I have the chance.”

“Paint?” you chuckled as that was one of the last things you thought he’d say.

“Yes,” he nodded, “not many, but a few of my pieces are strung up around the castle.”

“I will have to keep my eye out for those, your majesty,” you smiled.

“Oh, and please, no more of that,” he pleaded, “you shouldn’t call me your majesty any longer, we’re friends now,” he momentarily turned to toss the rock into the rippling sea, and a small ring bloomed on the surface as it delved in, “you are my wife,” the corners of his lips tugged upwards as he faced you once more, “you should call me by my name.”

“Alright, Steve,” the name felt oddly intimate on your tongue, “I’ll try my best to do better.”

As he smiled down at you, a shadow suddenly soared across the sky above both of your heads. Lifting your eyes to the clouds above, they swiftly went wide in fear as you saw the creature that flew straight towards the village.

“Oh gods, is that a–”

“Dragon,” Steve uttered before you could.

The winged behemoth of a beast had scales like the darkest tree bark, but in the sunlight it soared through, they shined regally like an oil spill.

Grabbing you by the hand as warning bells rang out over the seaside community, Steve dragged you with him and he addressed the two wardens that had lingered a few paces back while you both were out, “take her inside, through the cave, stay low, away from any windows.”

“Yes, my liege,” they swiftly replied and moved to defend you, but as the king’s grasp left yours, you reached out to halt him.

“Wait!” your fingers rushed to snag your lucky charm off, “here,” and you layed the fine necklace into his open palm before finding his eyes one last time and uttering, “please don’t die.”

Closing his fist around the jewel, he offered you a grave nod before the wardens led you into the cave and the king rushed down the banks and up the algae-slick steps that led up to the harbour.

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venusstorm · 2 years

Text

𝙇𝙡𝙤𝙮𝙙 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛…𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩?

*𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵>>*

Masterlist | w/c: 650

*𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

*𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵!𝘓𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘥 𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘹 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

୨♡୧

“You mad at me, Princess?” Lloyd coos.

You scowl, turning your head away as he tries to kiss your neck. He reaches for your hand, but you yank it out and flip to the other side of the bed before he gets the chance.

“Oh, so you’re really mad at me tonight.”

He sighs, pushing aside the covers and moving closer to you. His hand rests on your lower back, rubbing it softly in hopes of you breaking your silence.

“Just let me help you.” His tone is gentle, understanding that getting upset wouldn’t make your little attitude disappear.

“Just leave me alone,” you mutter.

“Baby…you can talk to me. I know—"

His presence and proximity begin to overwhelm you, and quickly you find yourself verbally lashing out. “I said. Leave. Me. Alone.”

His movements stop and quickly you feel a dip in the bed as he slides his sweatpants back on and exits the room without another word. Your heart drops but your pride keeps you in place, huffing as the bedroom door shuts, leaving you alone with his lingering scent.

Tears spring from your eyes as you try your best to push the thoughts away.

He doesn’t actually want you. He’s gone for days, sometimes weeks at a time. He’ll find someone prettier, less needy. For fucks sake he’s Lloyd Hansen, why would he settle down with you of all people?

You constantly battled with insecurity, anxious that the love you have for others would never truly be reciprocated.

Lloyd would do anything for you, yet you’re laying here, scared that one day he’d get up and leave and never return.

And it only worsened when he was away for work, just you alone in this big house, painting and waiting like Rapunzel trapped in her tower.

As time passed you grew frantic. You latched onto his pillow, inhaling his scent until you grew dizzy.

A soft knock sounds on the door and unknowingly you release a heavy sigh of relief. He came back.

“Princess? I got you something.”

The door swings open, revealing a tin of your favorite cookies from the bakery near town, held tightly within his hands.

“They didn’t have milk chocolate so I got fudge. I hope that’s o—"

His face drops once he sees the tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re hiccuping, sniffling into your shirtsleeve with pure guilt. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Lloyd drops the cookies onto the dresser, racing to your side. “I hate seeing you like this, Princess. Just tell me what’s wrong and I swear I’ll do everything in my power to mend it.”

You hiccup. “It’s hard.”

“What’s hard, baby?”

“Being without you for so long. Waiting. I— I can’t stop thinking the worst. What if this isn’t the life you want? What if I’m not the life you want?”

He frowns, his eyebrows furrowed because Lloyd can’t possibly imagine a life where you weren’t his sweet girl. His Princess. “I’ll always want you,” he assures.

Lloyd presses his forehead against yours. His steady breath tickles your nose, his lips parted to speak. “Being away from you is the hardest part of my job. I’ll be bruised and bloody, a gun aimed at someone’s forehead and yet, the only thing on my mind is you. Always just wanna get home to you.”

You sob into his shoulder, your arms wrapping around his neck as you release a floodgate of emotions.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. I know I’m being stupid. I know you love me. It’s just…sometimes I get scared.”

“Hey, shh. It’s okay, pretty girl. I know it gets hard for you. Don’t ever feel guilty for feeling emotions. Just talk to me next time and we can work through it together. Okay?”

You nod, your eyes glazed and wide as you finally look at his piercing gaze. “Okay.”

Lloyd grins as he pushes himself off the ground, pressing his soft lips against yours. You groan as he grows rougher, his body joining you beneath the tangled mess of sheets.

#lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen angst #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen #the gray man #chris evans characters #lloyd hansen x black reader #hurt/comfort #insecure reader

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sarahowritesostucky · 4 months

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📖 "Hydra Sanatorium"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dub con everything due to a/b/o biology, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30), omorashi

Summary: Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty.

Steve's been developing too much of an attachment, he knows he has. But he might not have the self control to remain detached anymore.

Chapter 1: A Weekend in the Pens

Chapter 2: Holding It in

Chapter 3: A Catalyst

Chapter 4: Release Therapy

Chapter 5: Excited Catatonia with Aggression

Chapter 6: Inflation Therapy

Chapter 7: Pheromonal Oil Massage

Chapter 8: Sensory Reset Therapy

Chapter 9: Persistent Genital Arousal

Epilogue I.

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callmissrogers · 4 months

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There For His Girl | Steve Rogers x Reader One Short

Summary: Y/n has reached her limit. Work has been difficult. People have been short, and some just mean. It all brings her back to her childhood, and right now, she just wants to pretend to be ok. So determined to pretend she tries to push her concerned husband away.

WARNINGS ⚠️ This contains mentions of a toxic relationship with the reader's mother and quotes some of their arguments. If this is a trigger for you, please DO NOT proceed. It also contains angst, fluff, and comfort. Also, very little editing and wrote on my phone.

Steve Rogers x wife reader

Word count: 1,370

Notes: The next part in the That's My Girl series will be going up today or tomorrow. I was feeling the need for some comfort myself, so this is what I wrote. Hope you like it!

Y/n slammed the door, tears streaming down her face she pressed her back into the wall and slid down until she was a small ball on the floor.

"Why do I do this?" She sobbed hating herself.

Y/n had had a rough few days. It seemed like no matter what she did or said, people were short with her. Everything was going wrong, and after one mistake, which led to a snarky backhanded compliment from Tony Stark himself, well, Y/n was done. Usually, it didn't get to her like this anymore, but her emotions frayed to a breaking point.

Her dad always told her she wore her heart on her sleeve but she just thought her mom was right and that instead of enduring this made her a nuisance.

Why should she be so bothered when people utter unkind things to her?

Why can't she pull herself together?

"You're always start crying! Stop trying to make me feel bad"

"You're stabbing me in the back by trying to do something different"

"Don't you know I need you here? Stop thinking about yourself and making everything harder on me"

This and many other instances where y/n would be belittled, ridiculed, screamed at, lectured for two hours at 1 in the morning, and reduced to making herself as small and as unseen as possible while being a sobbing mess, had made her what she is today.

Too sensitive. At least that's what she told herself at times like this.

And why couldn't she just talk about it like a normal person instead of blowing something trivial out of proportion?

Literally five minutes ago....

Steve had come home the night before. Poor guy had been so tired that he fell asleep in uniform on the couch.

Y/n had been carefully tiptoeing around the kitchen so as not to accidentally wake him up. Intending to surprise him before heading to work.

She was supposed to be going over mission plans with Vision today. This was the kind of work that excited her. None of the agents would bother them while they were working, which meant that she could just disappear for the day.

She platted up breakfast and carried it over to set it on the coffee table in front of the sleep soilder.

Tho he didn't actually wake up until she set down his mug of coffee.

Eyes fluttering open he peered up at her groggyily. "Hi" He mumbled, pushing himself upright. "Hey sleepy head." Y/n said, trying to make her voice sound chipper.

Steve sighed contentedly as he stretched out his muscles before standing up.

"Mind if I go change clothes before I enjoy this masterpiece?" He asked. Y/n turned to face him, attempting to smooth down his wild bedhead and then said, "Go ahead"

He was back a matter of moments, settling down next to her and drinking deeply from his coffee.

"Thank you for this," He sighed leaning over and gently kissing her on the cheek. Y/n just nodded, trying to keep her mind on a healthy track she focused on eating.

"Did you sleep well?" Steve asked. Taking another bite, she thought about lying and telling him that she had had the best night sleep.

"Sorta" She said trying to stiffle a yawn. "What does sorta mean?" Steve asked turning to look at her. "Nothing really. I'm good! Nothing some strong coffee won't fix."

Steve placed his hands on her shoulders, making her look at him. He studied the dark circles, the faint tint of bloodshot in her eyes, how she held herself and her fiddling hands.

"Hm," He said, his voice low in his chest.

Y/n knew exactly what he was doing, shaking his hands off her shoulders and standing up she said, "I should probably get ready for work."

Steve stood up, grabbing her wrist and stopping her. "Y/n, you look exhausted." "I'm fine" "You're twirling your hair, which means you're not telling the truth." "Steve, c'mon I don't have time for this" "Y/n, it looks like you've been crying" She pulled his hand off her wrist and started to walk away from him, "I'm going to work." "Sweetheart, please just tell me what's - " "Steve! Please just listen to me and leave me alone!" She yelled, cutting him off. She ran off to the bedroom, and that's when the door slammed.

Steve stood there a moment, thinking about honoring her request and leaving her be. But his protective nature overtook him and he decided that the best thing to do would be to be there for his girl.

In the bedroom.

Y/n sat against the wall still crying into her hands, body trembling, thinking hateful thoughts about herself.

She heard Steve knock on the door, saying "Sweetheart, can I come in?"

When she didn't answer him, he slowly opened the door and stepped inside.

She could feel him kneeling down in front of her, "Sweetheart," He whispered, trying to tuck her hair behind her ear to which she only buried her face further.

The next thing that happened, was Steve scooping her up into his arms and settling down in the arm chair that sat in the room.

Somehow this just made her cry more.

"Oh honey, come on now. Take a deep breath. In through the nose and out through the mouth." He soothed.

After about ten minutes of this, her crying settled down, breath becoming rhythmic.

Once he was sure that she had calmed down enough to be able to communicate with him, he asked his voice low and rumbling through his chest, "Do you wanna talk about what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

She nodded against his shirt. "Everything" she gasped. "Everything?" He asked, pulling her back so he could look her in the face. Dabbing away the leftover tears.

"I'm too emotional. Everything the last few days just hurts. I let everything get under my skin... I just. . Lately, people and Stark are just mean, or maybe I'm just too sensitive.. and now I've yelled at you, too." She said, trying to get up.

"Now hold on a minute, " He cooed, keeping her in place.

"What did Tony say?" "Nothing. I messed up and he was being sarcastic, but I'm such a mess that it hurt" she said her voice breaking. "Alright. Listen to me. One, you are not too emotional. The world tells everyone to button up and be cynical. You, my dear, are a light in all that mess. You do care and that's a very good thing -- I don't want you to listen to anyone that would belittle that, ok?" He asked getting a slow, uncertain nod in response. "Ok. Secondly, people can be mean, especially Stark. People also have power trips and want to pull people down to make themselves feel stronger or better. This means there's one thing you can always be certain of: Do you know what that is?" "What?" "They're wrong. Anyone who would belittle you to make a point or to win an argument or for any other reason, is just a bully." "But what if-" "ah. No what ifs. Thirdly, and this one is the one that's most important of the three." "Then why'd it come last?" She asked clearly beginning to feel a little bit better if she could tease him now. Steve simply rolled his eyes and continued,

"I want you to remember that when you're upset, you can always talk to me. No matter how silly it might make you feel, your feelings are safe with me." "Steve I just yelled at you for no rea-" "No. You had a reason. You were upset. I can see that and you know what that means? It means I can take it too. When I put this ring on your finger," He said taking her hand in his and running a finger across her knuckles. "I signed up for this. I'd rather have you get emotional than bottle things up and hide them from me."

Y/n looked down at their still intertwined hands and then back up at him. Nodding again and breathed out an "ok"

"Ok." Steve replied, giving her his usual comforting smile and kissing her forehead.

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mxssingmemories · 11 months

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It'll be okay.

Pairing: Chris Evans x daughter!reader

Summary: Y/N started a new job and has started getting bad migraines. Chris just wants to be there for his daughter.

Warnings: Migraines, reader breaks down, lots n lots of fluff.

Word count: 615!

A/N: This was requested by the lovely @chrisevansdaughter ! Definitely one of my favorite things I've ever written :) Hope you're having a good day, lovelies!

You were having a very stressful day. Honestly, in your opinion, it was more like a stressful week. You'd just started a new job, and it was..well, one of the most difficult things you've ever done. Your new boss was pretty mean, and even though you knew he'd warm up to you after a while, it was still hard to get through. As a result of this, you were getting less sleep in order to prove yourself to him. In the span of a week, you've gotten about 16 hours of sleep. Almost every minute of your waking hours was spent working on your computer or at the office, and Chris knew it. It was starting to show in the way you acted, spoke, even walking looked slightly concerning to him.

You knew that as his daughter, you didn't even have to work-the money he got from his consistent acting roles was well enough to keep you both afloat for as long as you needed. You'd turned 18 half a year ago, and you just couldn't help feeling that without a job you were just using him.

As a result of the stress and constant lack of sleep, you'd started having really bad migraines. It was something you've had before, but it was never this bad. You'd have at least two a week, and they were unbearable. Your dad was very concerned every time you had one, insisting you quit your job and let him provide for you. Each time you refused, even through tears. You continued to push yourself through everything, and it hurt Chris to know that he couldn't do anything except be there for you when it got bad.

As a result of a particularly bad day, you laid on your bed with a cool cloth over your face to block out the light. When they got this bad, all you could do was take some pain medication and lie down, waiting it out. This was how your dad found you when he got home, and the sight immediately made his heart hurt.

As soon as he realized what was going on, he jogged to the kitchen to grab you some water and a blanket. Coming back into your room with the supplies, he laid the blanket across your shivering body and softly grabbed your hand.

"It's alright, Y/N. I'm here. I've got you." He turned the room light off and closed the blackout curtains, removing the cloth from your eyes so he could see your face. His heart once again felt too heavy;your face held clear pain and he wanted to cry.

"How bad is it this time, baby?" he asked you, making sure his voice was soft. Your eyes filled with tears at the pure love in his eyes, a sob escaping you.

"Oh honey," he whispered, pulling you into his arms. You curled into his chest, letting yourself fall apart for the first time since you started the job.

You cried for what felt like hours, your dad holding you through it. He cradled you tightly, whispering loving encouragement as he rocked you back and forth. Eventually, your sobs ceased to hiccups. Finally relaxing in your dad's loving arms, he planted a kiss on your forehead.

"Please quit the job, my love. It's stressing you out so much. It's so hard to see you like this when I can fix it. Please, baby. I love you, Y/N." he murmured.

Unable to keep resisting, you nodded your head. Sleep threatened to take you right then and there. You finally let it. Your last thought was that your dad was the best person in the whole world.

#chris evans x daughter!reader #chris evans fluff #tw migraines #mcu cast fanfiction #my writing #chrisevansdaughter <3 #chris evans my beloved #hurt/comfort #requested

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evanbuckleyrecs · 1 month

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So I just read this fic and it absolutely BLEW my mind and I can't not share it. I have to tell everyone: GO READ THIS

ashes, ashes, ashes

Written by pinkpeachtea

10,172 words

Rated T

Buck/Eddie, Buck & Christopher, Buck & Bobby, Buck/Tommy mentioned, Eddie/Marisol mentioned

Additional Tags:

Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Pre-Relationship Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, POV Evan "Buck" Buckley, Evan "Buck" Buckley Acting as Christopher Diaz's Parental Figure, Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending(for now) - Freeform, (I might make this into a fic), Speculation for 9-1-1 (TV) Season 7, Speculation for Episode: s07e09 Ashes Ashes, Fire, Evan "Buck" Buckley's Apartment burns down, unfortunately he is still in there, and so is chris, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Not Beta Read

"You said you're not afraid of anything," Chris repeated Buck's own words back to him, still staring at him in favor of ignoring the lasagna, "but everyone's afraid of something."

"I am afraid of you not liking my lasagna. Does that count?" Buck asked with a smile, watching fondly as Chris groaned in his newly adapted I-am-a-teenager-and-I-find-everything-annoying tone, before grabbing his fork and taking a bite. "And?"

Chris mumbled with his mouth full. "'S good."

"I guess then I am still not afraid of anything."

———

Or, someone from Bobby's past sets fire to Buck's apartment. Chris is with him when it happens.

#911 #buddie #911 on abc #buddie fanfic rec #buddie fanfiction #buck & chris #buck & bobby #911 season 7 #911 abc #fire #bobby nash #evan buckley #christopher diaz #emotional hurt/comfort #rated t #10 15k #angst with a happy ending #buck’s loft #hurt evan buckley

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babyjakes · 1 year

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stay all night. [blurb.]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | june '23 ari-themed blurb night

summary | ari knows exactly why you're anxious to fall asleep.

pairing | daddy!ari levinson x little!reader

warnings | sfw regression (daddy!ari and little!reader), reader's been having nightmares (non-descriptive), just very fluffy!sweet!comforting!!!

word count | 555

requested by @brandycranby | ari + “are you afraid to fall asleep because you think you’re gonna have a nightmare?” 🥺

an | ohh aww i love this prompt so much so much and with daddy!ari???? he's so soft the softest the sweetest i just know he would handle this so well <33 i hope you enjoy bby!! thanks for the brilliant suggestion!!

"Maybe one more story, Daddy?" Your eyes are wide as you blink up at Ari hopefully. The large man is snuggled up beside you on top of your comforter, though you're already tucked nice and snuggly into bed.

Ari frowns as he looks at the pile of books between the two of you before glancing over at you directly. His gentle gaze settles on your face as his expression softens. As your daddy, he's attentive... and all-knowing. He can sense your nervousness before even a hint of it becomes physically apparent. "Sweetheart," his voice is low and concerned as he reaches out and brushes your hair back from your face. "We've practically emptied out your entire bookshelf. Aren't you getting sleepy, honey?"

Your eyes fall to your hands as they sit in your lap. You shake your head, but you're not fooling your daddy. He's the kind of man who can see through any lie, especially one that falls from your sweet, honest lips. "Look at you, bubba," the man coos softly as he strokes your hair, smiling gently as you lean a bit against his hand. "My sleepy angel," he hums, "you look pretty tuckered out to me, baby. Why don't we call it a night, hmm? We can always read more books tomorrow."

"But Daddy..." you whimper, your voice trailing off as your bottom lip puffs out unintentionally.

Ari looks at you tenderly, his brow raised in concern as he asks softly, "What is it, sweetie? Can you tell Daddy what's wrong?" You can only manage to pout more at his question, your little shoulders slouching as he smiles knowingly. "Come here, my angel," he sighs as he pulls you over to sit on his lap. "Now what's all this about, hmm?" he asks, cupping your chin to bring your gaze up to meet his. "What's got my pretty girl scared to go to sleep? Are you worried you'll have another nightmare, baby?"

A thin layer of tears builds in your eyes as you feel your cheeks heating up. You nod shamefully, sniffling as your eyes try to avoid his. Ari's brow furrows worriedly as he gently wipes a stray tear from your cheek, murmuring, "Hey sweetheart, hey. It's okay. There's no need to cry," he reassures you as he plants a kiss on your nose. "I know your nightmares have been so scary lately, honey; I know. Here, how about Daddy sleeps in here with you tonight, hmm? Would that help you feel safer?"

Wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, you nod hopefully as Ari smiles gently at you. "Of course, baby. I'll hold you all night long; how does that sound? That way, if any bad dreams come, I'll be right here to make it all better."

"Yes please, Daddy," you agree as he plants a few more kisses on your nose and cheeks. Carefully, he helps you move your stacks of picture books over to your nightstand before snuggling up with you under the covers. "Stay all night?" you ask softly to make sure as he reaches over, switching off the lamp before pulling you securely into his arms.

"All night, sweet girl," he promises, sealed with another kiss on your forehead. "Just relax and close your eyes, sweetheart. Daddy's here; Daddy'll keep the bad dreams away."

#eun's writing #stay all night #june '23 blurb night #ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x little!reader #daddy!ari levinson #ari levinson fluff #hurt/comfort #ari levinson one shot #ari levinson blurb #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson headcanon #ari levinson drabble #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #the red sea diving resort

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levans44 · 1 year

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Damage Control Masterlist

pairing: steve rogers x SHIELD agent!Reader

warnings: 18+ SMUT*, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, lots of angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut/romance/fluff, mentions of violence, accidents, family member death

summary: Working under SHIELD’s Damage Control division, she was used to handling shitty situations: wrecked buildings, stranded helicarriers, and alien hostages, to name a few.

But a one-night stand with Captain America?

Definitely not one of 'em.

word count: 49,821 (In Progress)

Ch 1

Ch 2

Ch 3

Ch 4

Ch 5

Ch 6

Ch 7

Ch 8

Ch 9

Ch 10

Ch 11

Ch 12

Ch 13

Ch 14*

Ch 15

Ch 16

Ch 17

Ch 18

Ch 19

Ch 20

Ch 21*

Ch 22

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 3 months

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the smouldering scar

fused with the foe, chapter three

a/n: big reveal in this one, you guys. hold on to your butts!

summary: you didn’t know how long he remained silent, frozen in the depths of the answer your simple question apparently had, but eventually, you heard him say, “I wanna show you something.”

word count: 3430

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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masterlist | join my taglist

It nearly looked like snow. But you knew it wasn’t. It was ash that swirled around in the smoky air outside of the small windows.

Sitting on the floor of the chamber that shot off of the grand throne room, your back was pressed back against the stone wall. Numerous servants, mostly elderly ones or others who couldn’t join on the battlefield, had, with a handful of wardens, all gathered in that meeting room. Some were seated at the round table in the middle while others had opted for the floor like you.

Hugging your knees to your chest, one of your hands slowly slid up and down your shin in a self-soothing caress, the movement eventually came to a stop on the top of your knee. Glancing down, you couldn’t help but turn your wrist and stare at the symbolic scar that marked your palm. Without really realising it, your other fingers came up to trace it gently as the terrifying reality of what was occurring just outside of these castle walls nearly ate you alive.

With every hellish thought that fluttered in your mind, you became nervous that you were mere moments away from throwing your breakfast back up.

What if Steve didn’t make it back? What if he was lying dead somewhere right now? What if he was just charred enough to make his demise inevitable, but draw his last few moments out in a torturous wait? What if you had to rule this kingdom, that you’d barely even gotten your footing in, all alone?

Suddenly, doors on the other side of the room were forced open so loudly that it ripped you from your paralysing thoughts and made you jump. Lifting yourself up to your feet, your eyes stayed glued to the exit.

But when the door to the chamber was pushed open, all of the air slipped out of your lungs in an instant.

With soot and scrapes tainting their features, there stood the royal who wouldn’t escape your worries, alongside numerous soldiers behind him.

“Turner, Hardy,” not even taking a second to breathe, he instantly called to the wardens who had been guarding the chamber, “go get some supplies, blankets, food and water, as well as some healing supplies to the throne room,” he commanded, “we’ll use it as a sanctuary and gather the people who lost their homes as well as prepare for some of the injured since the hospital is already dangerously close to full capacity–”

Before you even knew what was happening, you’d crossed the room and nearly tackled the king from how forcefully you threw your arms around him. A breath of air seeped out of his lungs at the blow. It wasn’t till his touch slowly found your spine that you realised what you had done. Scurrying back like his touch had shocked you, “I’m sorry,” your wide eyes blinked up at him and your stomach twisted at the reality of what you’d just done, “I didn’t–…” though when you met his gaze, your shoulders melted back down into place as you uttered, “hi.”

“Hey,” he breathed, staring down at you as guards rushed around him, dashing to fulfil his commands, “are you alright?”

“I’m–…” for a split second you were gonna spill to him just how terrifying it had been, how scared you still were, but looking back at him and the other knights, seeing the obvious signs of the fire they’d just walked through, you instinctively withered down and replied, “yeah. I’m fine,” you tried your best to keep your tone steady, “are you? What happened? Did you–…”

“Steve,” haven already migrated into the chamber, Bucky then tossed the king a roll of bandages, “we’ve got this here, you go take care of your side.”

Watching Steve’s quick reflexes catch the cloth with one hand, your gaze then grew again as it scanned his frame, “your side? What happened to your side?”

“It’s nothing,” he tried to relax his clenched jaw as he said, “it’s fine.”

With chaos buzzing all around the room, you searched his steely eyes a moment before you then turned on your heel. Snatching up one of the healing kits resting on the central table, you then glanced over your shoulder and gestured with your head, “come.”

Weaving through the crowd, you slipped into the vacant war room. A thick table, littered with maps and little markers, grounded the space. Not glancing back at him as you heard him shadow you, he slowly began to lay down the weapons still strapped to him as you pulled out a chair and sat the wooden box down on the table, the glass vials within it clinked against each other at the force.

“You don’t have to help me,” his deep voice was quiet as he stayed near the door, “this isn’t my first burn.”

Unlatching the lid, you glanced back at him as you opened the box, “do you not want my help?”

“No,” he shook his head and lowered his shield and axe to a chair he passed when his feet finally began to shift.

“Then take your armour off,” you nodded clinically as you returned your gaze to the herbs before you.

As he began to near you, he slowly started to loosen the straps of his leather armour, gently shedding it as he watched you search through the kit.

“Where is it, where is it…” you muttered as you plucked up the bottles and read the scribbled labels, looking for the right thing, “ah!” you exclaimed as you located the elderberry and milkweed salve, “there!”

Steve’s brows knit together gently as he placed one of his layers on the chair beside the one you sat in, “…you know how to treat a burn?”

“Yes,” you met his eye, “why? Did you not think someone like me would know about the art of healing? That it would be too grotesque for my fragile little soul?”

“No, I just–… I didn’t know that about you,” he leaned back against the table.

“So, what happened out there?” your eyes flicked down to the crimson stain on his ivory tunic.

Letting out a low exhale, a moment passed before he uttered, “I don’t know if maybe we’d been more prepared that we would have been able to win… we tried everything, but it got away… flew out west… with barely even a fucking scratch…” his eyes stayed locked on the same crack in the floor by his boots, “people that I’ve known and fought beside all of my life got turned to ash in seconds… houses were burned down, fields were set a flame… it just doesn’t make sense… none of it does… I’ve studied dragons and never, anywhere, have I come across an account of them just stopping by a town to kill a few folks before up and leaving again. Dragons are greedy, they’re solitary, they’re highly intelligent, I–…” a heavy sigh then seeped from his lungs, “it just doesn’t make sense…”

A knock then echoed at the door.

Clearing the thickness in his throat, Steve lifted his gaze and said, “yes?”

An elderly servant, balancing a tray, creaked the door open, “I thought some refreshments might do you good, your majesty.”

“Thank you, Hilda,” the king mustered a small smile as she sat the pitcher and glasses down beside him before disappearing out the door once more.

Carefully, Steve then peeled his soot and blood-stained tunic over his head and revealed the nasty burn that stretched across his left ribs.

It was terrible, but for a moment you grew thankful for his distracting injury as you tried your hardest not to make the face that his burly physique conjured.

As you began to smear the salve carefully over the burn, a stifled groan slipped out of him at your first touch.

“Sorry,” the muscles in your body tensed as you could only imagine the pain he was in.

“It’s alright,” he uttered through controlled breaths as he watched your fingers glide over the angry blisters that bubbled at his scorched waist.

Popping the cork back into the stout glass container when the salve had been spread over his wound, you then picked up the bandage and your efforts almost caused you to hug him again as you wrapped it around his abdomen.

When the clean cloth was secured and you’d turned to pack the supplies back up, Steve suddenly remembered, “oh, you should probably have this back,” and removed the borrowed chain you’d been too blind to notice dangling from his neck. Placing the necklace in your palm, a small smile twitched at his lip, “thank you for lending it to me. One could always use a little more bravery and not just when an actual dragon’s spewing off fire over your head.”

“I guess so,” your head cocked slightly, unsure what prompted him to say that.

Searching your expression, he said, “you know, because of the rune.”

“What?”

“Because it means courage,” he pointed down to the scratch in the opalescent stone, “did you don't know that?”

“It does?” you glanced down at the necklace like you were seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah. Is that not why you wear it?”

“No, I’ve just always worn it,” your head gently shook from side to side, “kinda thought of it as a good luck charm since it’s the only item of my mother's I’ve ever had…”

“Cosima, are you sure there isn’t anything more we can do to help?” Steve asked the farmer sincerely.

Shaking her head, her grey locks were cropped so short that they only offered a silver shadow of hair, “you’ve already done so much, your majesty.”

Glancing around at the charred remains of the farm that had gotten the brunt of the dragon attack, the king spotted the gloomy girl that shyly shadowed Cosima’s wife as her fingers stayed weaved in the spotted fur of a young sheepdog.

“Is that your granddaughter back there playing with that puppy?”

Glancing back over her shoulder, a sombre smile twitched at her lip, “yeah, that’s our little parsnip.”

“How is she taking it?” he asked slowly.

“I think our attempt at distracting her is actually working, even just a little bit…” her eyes stayed on the dog a moment longer before she glanced back at the king and you beside him, “the attack turned too many children into orphans. We’re staying with the blacksmith and his wife while we rebuild the farm,” she spoke, “and his brother and sister-in-law didn’t make it as well, so now they are taking care of their nephew.”

“Wait, Mary and Richard?” Steve’s eyes widened slightly, “I didn’t know they were among the deceased.”

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.”

Standing by his side, you’d let Steve do most of the talking. Not just because he knew the people better, but you also just didn’t know what to say without bursting into tears.

Staring at the kid slightly obscured by her grandmother, your feet couldn’t help but shift closer to her and Steve’s voice, “…I was thinking of gathering the town council again tomorrow if you could spread the word to the rest of the members,” slowly faded away as you neared.

Kneeling down before her, you mustered a gentle smile as you asked, “is this your dog?”

Staring up at you, her weary and bloodshot eyes were wide as she quietly replied, “yes.”

“What’s its name?”

Scarcely breathing in your presence, the girl timidly said, “his name is Oak.”

“Hello, Oak,” you scratched the puppy’s fluffy ear, “aren’t you adorable…”

“Excuse me, what?” you glanced up from the expansive map that screeched across the table of the war room and blinked back at the king.

“I said, what do you think we should do?” Steve repeated, “what do you wanna do?”

“You want my opinion?” your shock shined clear through your tone, “really?”

“Of course, I do.”

Letting your gaze flutter to the seagulls flying by outside the window, you exhaled, “well… I’m not sure what I could do to help. I honestly feel kinda helpless,” you shared, “I’m not a carpenter, I can’t help rebuild the homes that burnt down…” but then an idea tickled the back of your mind, “where is it again that the orphanage is located?”

“In The Dandelion Quarter, down by the docks,” Steve’s chin tilted slightly, “what were you thinking?”

“Well, it’s not much, but I kinda wanna go down there, visit the kids if they’ll let me. I don’t know if that’s dumb, but maybe it wouldn’t be nothing if I put some effort into distracting them a bit or whatever they might need. Is that stupid? To do that for as long as they’ll let me?”

“No,” he shook his head, “no, not at all.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” letting his fingers ghost over the backs of the chairs, he slowly curved around to the side of the table where you stood, “we both have an idea of what it’s like to lose your parents. I think it’s a great idea.”

As your lips twitched up into a smile, so did his.

Though as you stood there and momentarily let yourself disappear into his gaze, a thought struck you and you soon found your lips parting once more.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?” he simply hummed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

Noticing that you were gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you forced yourself to stop before you uttered, “why is it that you call me dove?”

You didn’t know how long he remained silent, frozen in the depths of the answer your simple question apparently had, but eventually, you heard him say, “I wanna show you something.”

“Alright,” slowly nodded before following him out of the chamber.

You’d never before entered the room he then showed you to, never even realised there was anything down this corridor. Though a bit dusty, the magnificent office he’d led you to only granted you more questions than answers.

“This was my mom’s study,” Steve said slowly as he stepped aside and let you explore the space, “I haven’t changed a thing in here since she died. Everything’s still exactly as she left it.”

As you glanced around the room, from the polished desk to the untouched tea set still sitting by a soft armchair, a painting on the far side wall caught your eye and made all of the hair of your body stand up.

The portrait was in an informal style, depicting a teenage girl with her arm around another. One of them you knew to be the same lady illustrated countless other paintings within the castle, but the other, the young plump woman depicted in a pair of billowy pants, her you recognised as well.

“Oh my–, is that–…” scarcely breathing at all, you tore your stare away from the painting, “Steve, why is there a portrait of my mother in here?”

Sucking in a breath, his low voice then found your ears once more, “because that is a painting of my mother and her best friend.”

“H-her–,” you felt as if the world might fall out from under you, “what?”

“Our mothers were friends,” he shared slowly, “they grew up together.”

With brows tightly knitted together, you blinked between the king and the painting, “she was born here?”

“She was,” he nodded.

“I–… I knew my mom wasn’t from Obelón, but I never knew she was from here…” tears began to blur up your vision as you stared up at the portrait, “this doesn’t make any sense… I always thought my mother hated this kingdom… she was on a diplomatic mission here when she died, trying to stop the war our marriage eventually put an end to.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he softly corrected.

Whipping your head back at him once more, “what?”

“She wasn’t here for any political reason,” he disclosed, “it wasn’t unusual for her to visit her home, but even that wasn’t the reason why she was here when she passed,” he sucked in a breath before continuing, “Y/n, she was trying to escape. Trying to find a way for both her and her children to leave your father.”

“She was? I always thought they were happy together, that they loved each other.”

“They might have in the very beginning, I don’t know,” you slowly sank down into a chair as he spoke, “but I do remember the way that she spoke about him back then and it was with anything but love. I might have been young, but I wasn’t a complete idiot about what was going on around me.”

“You knew her?”

“I did,” he exhaled, “I mean, I was just a small child, but yeah, I remember her well.”

Feeling your body tremble at the discovery, you hazily heard yourself ask, “would you–… could you tell me about her?”

Offering you a small nod, he then sat down in the armchair opposite the one you found yourself in.

“My mom always told me that she and Saoirse were practically attached at the hip as kids. Where the crown princess went, your mother followed and vice versa. But at my mother’s coronation, Saoirse met King Ivan and it didn’t take long before he swept her with him. They tried to keep in contact, the best that they could, but at one point the letters were so few and far in between that my mom had nearly lost all hope in the kinship. But then, one day, after I was born, your mother started coming around again. She became like family to me as well. Taught me how to skip rocks, how to throw a punch, she even told me stories of the gods. But the last time she was here it was different, everything was different… my memories from that far back are fairly spotty, but I still remember every single thing from that night… the night that you were born… when Saoirse realised her fate, she made my mother promise her that she’d look out for you, that she’d protect you no matter what. We tried to keep you here, to keep you from going back to the very place your mom had worked so hard at freeing you from, but at the end of the day, all we had to prove you staying here were the dying words of a mother, not the blood you shared with a king. My mom always kept an eye on you for the remainder of her life. And then she made me promise to do the same.”

Feeling a heavy tear drip from your chin and down into your lap, you uttered, “so, that’s why you married me?”

Meeting your eye, he uttered, “I married you to protect the daughter of a very kind lady I once knew. I married you to keep up a promise I made to my mother.”

“I see…” the fact that he wed you out of kindness and duty somehow didn’t help how overwhelmed you still felt, “I still don’t understand though why you call me dove. I get why you told me all of this, and I’m-… thank you for doing so, but what does it have to do with that nickname?”

Weaving his fingers together, he glanced down at them, “your mom, uh… it’s what she called you whenever she’d talk to her belly,” unclasping his hands, one of them briefly fluttered up to scratch the nape of his neck, “hell, my mom even continued to call you that long after your father gave you a proper name. I didn’t really realise I was doing it, guess it subconsciously just kind of slipped out when I met you, but I can stop if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“No,” you swiftly shook your head, “you don’t have to stop.”

Glancing up at you, he offered a light nod, “alright.”

Letting your vision flutter back to the youthful depiction of your mother, your eyes took in every little detail as a stomach-turning thought haunted your mind till you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“…do you remember what chamber it was that she–…” turning your head to meet his gaze, you couldn’t get yourself to finish the sentence, though thankfully, the king didn’t need any more words to understand.

“I do…”

Your eyes flickered to your lap to spot the few splotchy tears that had stained the silk.

“…could you show it to me?”

244 notes · View notes

halfrican-heat · 2 years

Text

Ain't Shit (R. Drysdale)

SUMMARY: Set in the Knives Out universe. Ransom wants to be a big happy family and reunite with his girl. But as always, there is more to the story...

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Black!OC

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Cursing, OOC!Ransom, Toxic relationship, Arguing, Single Mom!OC, Ransom cries lol, Heated discussions, Mentions of cheating (It's Ransom, I mean...), Mentions of character death (canon-compliant), Discussions of sex

A/N: I believe that is everything in the warnings, but please let me know if I missed something. As always, please enjoy. Beta'd by @serpentico and my bf :) -Lyv <3

Song Inspo: Ain't Shit - Doja Cat

Masterlist

“No, Steph, I just don’t see the point of having a rich baby daddy if he’s still gonna behave like a fucking deadbeat,” I complain to my sister, rifling through my purse for my keys. “Like he don’t do shit for his damn son or me.”

I sigh, all I wanted was to get into the house. Not be stuck on the damn porch. A cool breeze flutters around me as I shift the phone to my other ear. I shiver a little, digging through my purse a little faster. I know I had them when I got out the car!

“We tried to warn you, sis. That boy ain’t shit and them Thrombey motherfuckers ain’t nothing to mess with. Marta told me they thought she was fucking the grandaddy, girl.”

“Who, Harlan?” I pause. “Marta’s into that geriatric shit?”

“Bitch, for the right amount of money--”

“Stephania,” I warn teasingly, but she continues.

“--I would be, too! They couldn’t prove it. But if she was fucking that old man, I wouldn’t blame her.”

“But ain’t she just his day nurse?” I ask, cradling the phone on my shoulder.

I rifle more rigorously through my purse. Where the hell are my keys?

“Yeah, girl! But they asses can’t imagine someone actually being a decent person ‘cause they’re all crooked as hell. They just assume everyone else is, too.”

I suck my teeth, growing irritated because my keys are still missing. “Fuck, Steph, let me call you back. I can’t find my--”

“Keys?”

The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down my spine. I suck in a short breath, exhaling as I address my sister again.

“Steph, let me call you back.”

“Wait! Wa--”

I hang up the phone and drop it in my purse. I turn to face Ransom Drysdale who leans casually against my stair railing, dangling my keys from his finger. A lazy smirk graces his features as he shakes my keys at me tauntingly.

“You dropped ‘em on your way out of the car. You should really pay attention to your surroundings, kitten.”

His grin is cocky as he tosses my keys in the air and catches them. I keep my gaze impassive, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Ransom, how the hell did you get here?” I ask.

“I drove,” He replies, shrugging.

“Nig-- Ransom, no. How the hell did you find my house? We don’t exactly share the same area code anymore.”

“Oh,” he replies easily. “Darling, I’m rich. You don’t think I have ways of keeping tabs on my son?”

“Well, you’ve never shown much of an interest in him until now, so…”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, and I feel guilty for a moment. His tone becomes serious as he speaks again.

“That’s not true, Amalia. Don’t do that.”

“Yeah. Well, Facetime calls aren’t enough, Ransom.”

I snatch my keys from him, quickly opening the door. I intend to slam it behind me, but Ransom shoves his heavy-ass boot in the door. I groan in exasperation, as he follows me inside. I drop my purse on the chair by the door and slip off my shoes. The door shuts quietly behind me. I look back to see Ransom hovering by the door, surveying the space. For a moment, I feel insecure.

My little duplex isn’t much. The living room is modest with nice but inexpensive furniture decorating it. Baby toys are scattered all over the place along with paperwork from my job. A doorway leads directly to the kitchen with a pass-through and barstools. There’s also a little hallway off to the side that leads to the bedrooms and the bathroom. I know it’s not as lavish as Ransom is accustomed to, so I immediately feel defensive over my little home.

But as soon as the insecurity rises, I stomp it down. I did this on my own. Without him. So who gives a fuck what he thinks. After a while, Ransom still has yet to speak.

I sigh, turning my back to him.

“Take your shoes off if you’re planning on staying.”

I leave Ransom behind, wandering into the kitchen. Rummaging through the fridge, I find some leftovers from the night before and pop them into the microwave. Ransom takes a seat at one of the barstools as I go back to the fridge, pulling out a jar of Arizona tea. I fill a glass and slide it to him wordlessly. I fill up a glass for myself and lean against the counter furthest from him. The low hum of the microwave fills our otherwise silent environment.

I size Ransom up, taking in the noticeable changes I see in him. He’s not clean-shaven like he was the last time I saw him. Instead, he has a short, well-maintained beard. His hair is parted to the left and gelled precisely enough to give him a “lightly tousled” look. Very corporate. Very…not Ransom.

His greenish-blue eyes look dull. I would write it off as the lights not doing his eyes justice if not for the reflective glare he’s leveled his cup with. His eyes have lost that vitality and fire I always admired. Instead, there’s something vulnerable about him right now.

Despite this, his physique has not changed one bit. If anything, he’s been working out more. His shoulders fill out his off-white cable knit sweater, a soft look that contrasts his otherwise muscular frame. The muscles of his jaw tense, and I force myself to take a sip of tea instead of reaching to rest my hand on his face.

The shrill beep of the microwave startles both of us. I whirl around, spilling a bit of my drink on the floor.

“Fuck,” I curse, pulling my food from the microwave.

I set the steaming container and my cup on the counter near Ransom and grab some paper towels.

“Still clumsy as ever, huh, kitten?”

I scoff, wiping at the small puddle on the floor. Standing up, I trash the damp towel and turn to him with my hand on my hip.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call you what, kitten?” He shoots back, not missing a beat.

I roll my eyes. Just like that, the pensive, tired man from moments ago has disappeared. In his place is the insufferable man-child I fucked around and had a baby with.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask, fishing through my drawer for a fork.

“I can’t see the mother of my son?” He teases. “After all, I never do anything for you or my son, right?”

Though I know he means it to come across lightheartedly, I can hear the edge in his voice. For the second time today, I feel guilty. I didn’t know he heard that. Still, I’m not going back on a damn thing I said. It’s not like I lied.

“It’s the fucking truth, Ransom. If you want me to take it back then you’re shit out of luck.”

He presses a hand to his chest, feigning offense. I toss the lid from the container aside and shove a bite of pasta into my mouth. Ransom continues with the dramatics, of course.

“How could you possibly say such a thing to the father of your child?”

He continues to “clutch his pearls”, his mouth agape. I chew slowly, arching my eyebrow at him.

“Are you done?”

Ransom huffs, rolling his eyes.

“You act like I had a choice in the matter. Besides, I didn’t make you leave,” He retorts. “You did that on your own.”

I squint at him, swallowing.

“You wanna go there, Ransom? You wanna do this right now?”

He twists his mouth, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth. Ransom slides from the barstool and strolls around the living room, shoving his hands in his jeans.

“Where’s my son?”

“That’s not your business,” I say, taking another bite.

He scoffs, flopping himself on the chair by the door. He fidgets in the seat, shifting to remove a stuffed bear from underneath him. He holds the well-loved toy between his fingers, grimacing before tossing it away.

“My son’s whereabouts are my business, kitten. I’m not asking the world of you to tell me where he is.”

“You’re right, you’re not asking the world of me,” I shrug, pushing my food around the bowl.

Ransom relaxes in the recliner, a smile stretching across his face. He starts to speak.

“Exactly, I’m glad--”

“But I’m not obligated to answer any of your damn questions. So either tell me what you brought your sorry ass here for or leave.”

Ransom’s blue eyes blaze, anger crossing his features.

“You’re a piece of fucking work, you know that?” He bites back, leaning forward. “Get off your high horse, Amalia. You’re the one that fucked off to Albany without a word.”

“Oh, so you do wanna go there!” I exclaim, rounding the pass-through. “Then let’s fucking do it, Drysdale. I’ve been waiting for this conversation.”

He stands to his full height as I confront him. Ransom is heads above me with his six-foot frame, but that doesn’t intimate me in the slightest. I stand chest to chest with him-- well, chest to midsection-- and talk my shit.

“You were the one that couldn’t keep your dick in your pants to save your life! Two hours before our son was born, where were you?”

Ransom grits his teeth, looking to the side. His stance falters a bit.

“Yeah, you didn’t think I knew that, did you? Tanya can’t keep her mouth closed for shit. If you gonna sleep around, at least find a bitch that doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Ransom at least has the sense to look guilty for one moment before he schools his features into an impassive glare. He crosses his arms, sneering down at me.

“I didn’t take you for the sensitive type, Amalia. Mad ‘cause that pregnancy pussy wasn’t hitting like you thought it was?” He mocks.

I laugh incredulously. “You wanna make this about my body while I was carrying your child? You wanna act like you didn’t damn near bust a nut every time you looked at me let alone fucked me? Fine, then let’s talk about where you were one week after your son was born.”

“What the hell are you on about? I was in Boston that entire time.”

I scoff. “Ok. Bet.”

I walk away from him, swiftly moving to snatch my phone from my purse. I tap around for a few minutes before shoving the phone in his face.

“That’s not your ass on a beach in Florida then?”

The picture shows Ransom, clear as day, cuddled up with an overly tanned blonde in Tampa, Florida.

Caught, Ransom pushes the phone out of his face. He drags his hand over his mouth, pacing away from me. He crosses back toward the kitchen as I place my phone in my pocket, turning to him with crossed arms.

“Cat got your tongue, bitch? Ain’t shit to say now, right?”

“Watch it, Amalia.” He snaps. “Who the hell sent you that?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re a liar.”

“Yeah, okay I’m a liar. And you’re a fucking runner. What a pair we make,” He says dryly. “But none of this will hold up in court. Especially not against the best lawyers money can buy.”

The implications of his words hang in the air. His words are like a cold bucket of water suddenly being dropped on my head. For a moment, my world freezes. Questions swirl around my brain, bouncing against every nook and cranny.

Court? He wants to take this to court? Ransom wants to…what? Petition the courts for custody? Why now? Why is he doing this? What does he want with Shiloh?

I feel my body go cold as numbness seeps into my bones. The air feels static, almost sharp. Like breathing in tiny bits of glass. Then all at once, everything inside of me becomes deathly calm. My eyes meet his, brown and blue clashing as I step toward him.

“No, but you know what will hold up? Every sleepless fucking night I’ve had taking care of Shiloh. Every bill, every piece of clothing, and every bit of food I buy for that boy. Every moment I’ve spent with that baby since the second he was born will hold up in court.” I say, moving toward him.

“And if you think I don’t got the receipts to prove it then you got another motherfucking thing coming.”

I stand directly in front of him, my voice lowering as I look up at him.

“You wanna take this to court? Let’s. Fucking. Do it.”

Ransom stares down at me, his glare impassive. I steel my resolve, refusing to back down. His eyes search mine. I know he wants to call my bluff, but he can’t. Tucking his lips, Ransom finally looks away and sighs. He runs a hand over his face and then through his hair before pacing around the living room again. I wrap my arms around myself.

The coldness in my bones has settled, leaving me rattled and frozen in place. I stare at Ransom’s discarded glass on the counter.

Half-empty.

He paces silently. I stand there, continuing to stare into space. A heaviness settles around us as tension strangles the room. Then, Ransom sighs. A deep, heavy sigh laden with fatigue. He drops onto the recliner as if all the fight in him has vanished. He holds his head in his hands, breathing in deeply.

He exhales and lifts his head to look at me. His elbows are propped on his knees, hands clasped in front of his mouth. The man from earlier returns. The pensive, tired man with creased eyebrows and the entire world on his shoulders.

I swallow the pity I feel and give him a heated glare, daring him to break the silence. To piss me off further.

Instead, his eyes swarm with tears. I watch as his face contorts, a broken sob escaping him. He covers his face with his hands, sobbing silently.

I stand there watching him, frozen. Unsure of how to proceed. Ransom was never very forthcoming with his emotions. For once, I feel out of my depth with him. Do I comfort him? Or do I leave him alone to deal with his feelings?

The bitch in me wants to tell him to clean himself up and get the fuck out.

So, I shift awkwardly on my feet. I go back and forth for what seems like forever as he sits in front of me crying. I avoid looking at him, but the sound of his sobs isn’t exactly something I can ignore. I screw up when I take a glance at him, feeling immediately drawn in by the unabashed emotion on display. I feel myself giving in and wanting to succumb to the desire to console him. My resolve starts to crack and then…

Then, he looks up at me with pained, heavy eyes. My heart wrenches in my chest as he mumbles a garbled apology. I cross to him, sliding to the floor just as he crashes into my arms. The weight of his hug nearly knocks me over but I keep myself upright, holding him close to me. Ransom grips me tightly as I stroke his hair, whispering soft reassurances. He buries his face in my neck as apology after apology tumbles from his lips.

“I’m sorry, Amalia. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Were he not sobbing his face off, I might feel vindicated. I deserve this apology after all, right?

I gently shift his face from my neck, encouraging him to sit up on his own. I smile softly at him as he sniffs, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. I brush away a stray tear, stroking his face. He leans into my touch, giving me an all too familiar look.

I clear my throat and pull my hand away, wiping it on my pant leg.

“Ransom, what’s going on?” I ask quietly. “Why are you here?”

I steal a glance at him. He stares intently at me as if weighing his options. He licks his lips before releasing a heavy sigh.

“Harlan is dead.”

The words come out quietly and quickly. They roll off his tongue as easily as a “hello” or “goodbye”. But these words cause my heart to drop and lead fills my chest. My vision blurs and suddenly I can’t see. I blink the tears away and shake my head, searching his face for a lie. He stares back solemnly, tears leaking from his eyes.

“He…no, that’s not possible! He was just…” I trail off. “No…”

He props his arm up on one knee, dragging his other hand over his face. His head lolls back, resting on the recliner. He sniffs, wiping at his nose.

“He’s dead, Amalia. Died three days ago.”

My lungs feel as though they’re about to give out.

“How?” I push out, struggling to keep my emotions at bay. “How did he--”

I cut myself off, pressing a hand to my mouth. Ransom’s mouth presses into a thin line. He hesitates before speaking again.

“Heart complications.”

I release a heavy breath, my chest caving. My hand presses into my chest, trying o relieve the tightness that has accumulated. His words swirl in my mind as I try to comprehend them. Pressure rises in my head, and I think I’m sobbing but I can’t tell. My body feels foreign-- like it’s no longer mine. Like I’m floating above it.

He was just here, my brain screams. He was fine. He told me he was fine!

I talked to Harlan all the time. After Shiloh was born, Harlan Thrombey was the only person from that damn family to reach out to me at all. He offered money and moral support. I told him I didn’t want a dime. After all, it was Ransom’s responsibility. Not his.

“I guess I have a habit of cleaning up that boy’s messes,” He had said to me.

Still, the old man reached out weekly to update me on his health and to facetime with Shiloh. Now and then he still tried to send me cash, but I wouldn’t have it. His constant support meant more to me than his money. He stepped in when I felt like I had no one else in the world and, for that, I am eternally grateful. I had plans to surprise him with a visit next month so he could meet Shiloh in person.

But it’s too late now.

Suddenly, I slam back into my body and find myself wracked with sobs that echo off the walls. The tears tumble from my eyes of their own accord as I shrink into myself, curling into a fetal position. Ransom reaches for me, trying to comfort me. I thrash in his arms and push away from him. I don’t want his comfort. I don’t need it.

But he won’t give up. Instead, he pulls me closer and cages me between his legs, one propped up with the other stretched out. I scream and I cry and I struggle in his arms. Still, he holds me tighter. Eventually, I tire myself out and slump against his chest. I listen to the familiar thrum of his heartbeat and, against my better judgment, start to relax. One of his hands rests gently but solidly on the back of my head while the other rubs my back. I grip his sweater, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. My sniffles fill the otherwise quiet space as everything suddenly comes to a standstill.

The subtle rise and fall of his chest reminds me of a time before this. Before Shiloh. Before the arguments and the cheating. Before I ever knew who he truly was. My eyes burn again as a new wave of sadness rushes over me. But I stop myself short, refusing to give in to that pain. I buried it, and I can’t go back.

There are more important things to deal with now.

I sit up, untangling myself from Ransom. I feel his stare on me as I wipe my face and tuck my hair behind my ear. I cringe inwardly at how much of a mess I’ve probably made of myself. Self-consciously, I run my fingers through my hair and detangle some of the kinks. If this wig wasn’t laid as fuck, I’m sure it would be crooked and matted by now. I drop my hand to my lap with a sigh and bite my lip, searching for something to say. But for once, my words fail me. So, I settle for silence instead.

But Ransom has other plans it seems.

He reaches for the hand resting on my lap and holds it in his. He squeezes lightly and I look at him hesitantly. He smiles softly and releases a quiet breath. His thumb strokes the back of my hand as he looks away from me. He faces the direction of the large window behind the chair. The setting sun shines on his face, giving him a warm glow that highlights the green undertones in his eyes.

He draws his bottom lip in, running his teeth over it before releasing it. He lets out a short breath and nods to himself slightly. His gaze returns to mine, determined. I frown, uncertain of him. I move to withdraw my hand but he rests his other hand on top of mine. He gazes at me imploringly and this sudden change unnerves me further.

“Ransom, what is it?”

“Kitten, I need you to listen carefully to me,” He starts, his voice low. “Promise you’ll hear me out?”

I remove my hand, choosing to stand. Ransom sighs and stands as well. I cross my arms, arching an eyebrow.

“What is it,” I repeat.

He rests his hands on his hips. His head tilts towards me a little as he frowns, his forehead creasing. Then, he crosses his arms and turns away from me for a moment. He faces the window, placing one hand over his mouth. I grow impatient and huff.

“What the hell is it? What are you not saying!”

Ransom sighs and looks at me over his shoulder. He looks back out of the window before finally turning back to me. He lifts his hands, his palms out toward me.

“Okay, okay. There’s…Harlan left a will,” He says.

I shake my head, shrugging.

“Okay, and?”

A hand drops to his hip as he drags the other through his hair.

“Look, my granddad was incredibly fond of you. He loved Shiloh,” Ransom rambles. “And…and so he wanted to take care of the two of you.”

“Yeah, and I told him that I never wanted his money. That Shiloh was your son and that I would be fine. Y’all know that. He knew that.”

Ransom laughs shortly, shrugging. “He was a stubborn bastard. We all knew that.”

I rub at my temples as the beginnings of a headache rise.

“Get to the fucking point, please.”

“Fuck, okay. Listen,” He says, exasperated.

He places his hands on my shoulders and levels me with a deep stare.

“Amalia. Harlan…he left-- fuck.” He pauses, swallowing thickly. “He left half of his estate to you.”

Next Chapter: Bad Reputation

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Banners by: @maysdigitalarts

Title card by Me :)

Backup Blog: @thegirlonhamilton

Masterlist

#Ransom Drysdale x Reader #Ransom Drysdale x Black!Character #Black reader #black writer #my writing #black fanfiction #angst #hurt/comfort #chris evans #written by me #written by lyv #Ain't Shit - RD #fanfic #black fanfic #ransom drsydale fanfic

212 notes · View notes

anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount · 2 years

Text

Comfort (Uncle!Chris Evans x Niece!Reader)

@chrisevansdaughter I hope this is okay, hunny, I literally stopped everything I was doing to try and make you feel better!

Warnings: fight between the reader and her dad, swearing, angst, reader’s dad drinks, it’s raining and the reader has to sit outside for like 45 mins, but under a covered porch. i think that’s it but somebody let me know if i need more.

Word Count: 965

Summary: After a fight between you and your dad, you run over to your Uncle Chris’ house only to find he’s not there. When he gets home, he helps you feel better with some special Evans’ secrets: hot chocolate and Disney.

“But Dad- no, I- that’s not what happened!” You exclaimed, tears running down your face as you got into yet another fight with your dad this week. One of your nosy neighbours had said that you had had a boy over when nobody was home last week, and you weren’t allowed to have people in the house when you were home alone. Your best friend, Ben, had driven you home from school, and kissed you on the cheek when you got out of his truck. Even so, you’d known Ben since you were 3, your parents were fine when he was over alone because they watched the two of you grow up together.

“Fine. Explain to me what happened.” Your dad said, stepping closer to you.

Oh. He’s been drinking again. I won’t be able to reason with him. You thought, realizing why the two of you had had so many fights this week. “Ben drove me home last week and kissed me on the cheek when I got out, like he always does. He didn’t come in, because that’s the rule. He dropped me off, kissed me on the cheek, and went home.” You let out a small sob, knowing he wasn’t going to understand and you’d still be in trouble since your mom was working late tonight and wouldn’t be home until long after the punishment was enforced and she would never go back on it unless she really believed you were right.

“I don’t believe you.” He spat out, slurring his words and spitting in your face a little. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you brought a boy in when nobody was home so you could fuck him. You’ve always spent more time with the boys than the girls, and I didn’t raise my daughter to be a whore!” Your dad exclaimed, pushing you backwards a little.

You sniffled, more tears rolling down your cheeks as you grabbed your phone, wallet, keys, and backpack before heading outside in the pouring rain and running a few streets over to your Uncle Chris’ house. You ran up his porch stairs, not seeing his car in the driveway, and banged on the door and rang the doorbell, hoping maybe he was home.

He didn’t answer. So you called him.

He didn’t answer. So you tried calling him again.

He still didn’t answer. So you sat down on the step and cried even harder, not even your favourite uncle loved you.

45 minutes later, he pulled into the driveway, seeing you sitting on the top step, at least out of the rain. “Bubba, what are you doing here?” He called, running over to you, not even locking the car before ushering you inside the house.

“D- Dad and I got in another fight and Mom’s working late.” You let out another small sob, not even really having the energy to cry. You shivered, soaked from running over in the rain and sitting in your wet clothes for 45 minutes.

“How long have you been sitting on the step?” Chris asked, handing you a towel from the linen closet. You told him, and he closed his eyes, tilting his head up towards the ceiling. “Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve come home from the grocery store right away.”

“I called you twice, Uncle Chris, you didn’t answer.”

He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and tried turning it on, predictably dead. “Oh. I guess I forgot to charge it, bubba, I’m so sorry. Why don’t you go take a warm shower and I’ll bring in all the groceries and make us some nice hot chocolate. We can sit on the couch and snuggle if you want, and you can tell me about the fight with your dad if you think it’ll make you feel better.” You sniffled, nodding in agreement and making your way towards the stairs. “You still have some clothes in your room from last time you stayed over, honey.”

“Okay. Thank you.” You said softly, still crying and attempting to hide it from Chris.

“Would you like a hug before you go take your shower?”

“Yeah.” You said, voice cracking in the middle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After your shower, you changed into the comfiest clothes you had at Chris’ house, and went downstairs to find him on the couch with your favourite blanket, two mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table, and your favourite Disney movie cued up on the TV.

“C’mere, bubba. You can tell me all about it.” So you told Chris everything, including how you thought your dad was drinking again, and that was why he’d been mad at you all week. He was always angry when he drank. “You wanna sleep here? I’ll text your mom and drop you off at school in the morning if you still want to go.”

“I have to go tomorrow, I have a test in 3 of my classes and a major assignment due in the other.” You said, curling further into Chris’s arms, relishing in the warmth he gave off. “Will you help me study, Uncle Chris?”

“Of course, bubba. But let’s watch The Lion King 1 and a 1/2 first. We can sing along if you want.” You giggled softly, sniffling again, and nuzzling into Chris’s hoodie.

“Thank you, Uncle Chris.” You mumbled, softly drifting off in his arms after all the energy you used crying. “Wake me up after the movie if I fall asleep?”

Chris smiled softly at you in his arms, kissing the top of your head. “You got it, bubba. Get some rest and we’ll get you rehydrated after your nap.”

“Okay. Thank you.” You said, wrapping your arms around his torso and snuggling closer into his warmth. “I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.”

#uncle!chris evans x niece!reader #chris evans x reader #hurt/comfort #angst #chris evans is such a good uncle #reader has an alcoholic dad #chrisevansdaughter #this is for her and she's the best #i love you hunny

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