#i guess he took it as binding considering he told me the things he said on a drunk walk with The Boys which i assume is convos | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wkemeup · 4 years ago

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Sunrise (8)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.3k warnings: sweet happy beautiful bucky, a unpleasant reminder of the past, whiplash of emotion, the angst I warned you about 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how to hold onto this feeling without suffocating it.

It had been nearly a year since he’d felt even an ounce of the relief like what washed through his body when you walked through the door. All it took was a single smile from across the room, the soft brush of your hair over your fingers as you nervously tucked it behind your ear, and he was gone.

Enough for his cheeks to ache from smiling. Enough for his stomach to twist and knot from laughter. Enough for the wrinkles by his eyes to draw long and pronounced— the physical embodiment of joy upon his face.

He wasn’t walking on eggshells, waiting for the carpet to be dragged out from under his feet, for the paralyzing darkness of an empty void to consume him whole. The shadows weren’t lingering in his wake, itching to clench their claws into his spine and drag him away from the one thing that finally drew light back into his life.

For the first time since he stepped back on American soil, Bucky Barnes was happy. Truly and honest to God, happy.

“So! What do you think?” your voice called to him, breaking the trance he’d been in.

“Hmm?” Bucky blinked a few times to adjust to his surroundings. You were laughing at him, a hand over your lips in an effort to muffle the sound. Behind you, a woman directed a pointed stare in your direction despite the busy chatter inside Luciana’s.

“The book, Bucky,” you grinned, tapping on the edge of the binding.

He glanced down. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue sat propped in his right hand, the clip you’d given him the first day of book club nestled in at the center to keep the pages open. Truthfully, he hadn’t read a single word of it since he sat down with you an hour ago. His attention had been better kept watching how you tugged your lower lip between your teeth in concentration, how your eyes widened at a particularly suspenseful part of your chapter, how you clicked your nails against the coffee mug in perfect rhythm with the café music.

“It’s good,” he said, though you pouted at him.

“Bucky you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes!”

Busted. He shrugged, a laugh in his breath.

“Guess there were better things to look at.”

Your lips parted for a second, caught off guard, before you settled back into your seat. Your hands wrung out in front of you, eyes darting down the floor. It wasn’t easy to make you flustered, but damn if it was Bucky’s favorite feeling in the world.

“Don’t insult my books like that, Barnes,” you teased, lingering smile upon your face.

“Wouldn’t call it an insult,” he said simply. “There’s not much that can hold a candle when you’re around.”

The stun didn’t leave your face for a few seconds. You stared at him, then glanced around the room nervously as if he’d said something incredibly intimate. He couldn’t remember the last time this came so easy to him – the flirting, the charm. It was something he’d thrived on before the war and now, it seemed you brought that side out of him again.

“You’re a charmer today,” you observed, laughing through the nervous energy. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugged, reaching across the table to break off a piece of your pastry and plopped it into his mouth. “I’m happy. Can I be happy?”

You nodded quickly, almost a little too enthusiastically, with a smile so wide on your face he wondered if it were possible for it to touch your ears.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be happy.” The words left your lips almost breathlessly. You were looking at him like he was the goddamn sun and damn if that didn’t tug straight at his heart. “I like you happy.”

“I like me happy, too,” Bucky chuckled. He glanced up at the clock. “Come on, we should head over to the VA.”

You downed the rest of your coffee in a single chug and set the cup on the counter. Luciana waved at you as you moved towards the exit, Bucky in tow, and she winked at him as he passed by. He nodded, offering her a tight-lipped smile as he stepped out into the cool Autumn air. Your hand naturally slipped into his and you tugged him along the sidewalk.

“Promise me you’ll actually pay attention to Steve’s spiel instead of staring at me the whole time,” you teased him as you walked over the crosswalk, nudging his side.

Steve was giving a presentation at the VA for the open house; explaining the benefits, the groups, different opportunities, and the respite rooms. It was a big deal apparently and helped to bring a lot of former soldiers into the fold. It was one of your favorite days because there was usually an increase of members at book club for a few weeks after.

“No guarantees,” Bucky replied, face as even as he could manage it. That was, until you swatted his chest and he burst into laughter, drawing the attention of a group of teenagers who eyed him as they walked by. Their lingering stare meant nothing to him when he stood at your side.

When you reached the VA, you pushed open the door, considering his hand was otherwise occupied, and led him inside. There were dozens of people in the lobby, certainly more than he’d ever seen inside. Men and women were mingling around the tables, some sitting on the couches, with paper plates of cheese and crackers from the grocery store.

Tony stumbled by carrying about four boxes filled with cookies, barely keeping his balance.

“I could use a little help, kid!” he called, eyeing you as he frantically made his way to the kitchen.

“Coming, Tony!” You turned to Bucky, smile still present on your face as you ran a hand along his arm in comforting sweeps. “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Go.”

Maybe if he looked close enough, he might have seen a well of pride on your face, but you didn’t give him the chance before you leaned up and pressed a kiss straight to his lips— no cares for the crowd in the room or the fact that Sam and Steve were lingering around the VA somewhere. Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to worry about the stares because, hell, maybe he wanted people to know you were the woman he had the privilege of kissing.

“Go,” Bucky said again, pulling away from you reluctantly as a clanging could be heard from the kitchen, followed by an aggravated moan which could have only belonged to Tony Stark. You pouted, stealing one last kiss before bolting down the hall and out of sight.

Bucky spent a few extra seconds staring down the end of the empty hallway before he turned back to the room. The crowd didn’t bother him as much as it might have a few months earlier. He didn’t feel the same rush of anxiety in his veins as he felt on busy streets, but it didn’t mean he was explicitly comfortable either.

So, he kept to the outskirts of the room, standing along the wall and observing quietly from the corners.

The event seemed to be going well. He’d spotted Steve mingling with a group of older guys with long white beards and biker jackets, laughing as they told him about their adventures biking cross country. Sam found his way over to the couch beside a few of the guests who had busied themselves with the food instead and even found a way to get them talking to one another. Bucky kept his hand pressed into his pocket, a semblance of a smile on his face as he watched Sam pick a chip of the plate of the woman he was talking to without reservation.

It was a good place. A respite. Just like Sam had told him it would be. Bucky found a sense of normalcy in this building he couldn’t have hoped to find out in the real world alone— a belonging – and he knew a lot of that had to do with you.

He was just about to head down to the kitchen to see if you needed any help when he heard a voice that ran like ice through his veins. What it had said was indistinguishable, but Bucky could recognize the thick grovel of the tone almost anywhere. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, trying to remain as small as possible, as he spotted Jack Rollins emerging from the entrance.

With slicked jet-black hair, hardened angular lines upon his face, and a permanent scowl etching down on his features, Jack Rollins was not a man Bucky ever wanted to see again. He spoke with the two men in his wake, gesturing to a woman who was standing quietly by herself, reading the flyers on the bulletin board, as if he were stalking prey.

Bucky’s heart was thunderous as he took a step back. His black slammed against the wall, catching the breath in his lungs. His fingertips brushed over the chill of the pealing wallpaper, trying to find his grounding before Rollins noticed he was there. But luck was never so kind to him.

It only took one scan of the room before Rollin’s eyes landed on Bucky. He stilled, just as surprised to see him, but then, something dark twisted upon his features.

“Sergeant Barnes!” he called over the crowd, a jeering sort of laugh in his voice.

Bucky gritted his teeth, forcing himself to meet Rollins in the eye. “Jack.”

“Been over a year, man. How you been?” Rollins was conversational only in statement. His tone was near threatening, his men following behind him like a shadow. Dark eyes trailed down along the empty sleeve on Bucky’s side, a smile rising on his face.

Bucky tried to pretend as though he didn’t notice. “Recovering. You?”

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Rollins chuckled. Then, he puffed his chest up. “I’ve been working for the private sector.”

That didn’t surprise him. Rollins always had an affinity for the darkest parts of the job overseas. He took too much pleasure in the use of his weapon, paid no mind to the destruction left behind in his wake. Rollins was exactly the sort of man the military hoped to produce; follow chain of command without question, find purpose in your mission, execute without remorse. Seemed he found more of the same when he returned home. Only this time for a bigger paycheck.

Bucky could still picture him dressed in army camouflage with the weight of near forty pounds of combat gear on his back, finger always on the trigger. It felt a bit like that now, Bucky realized, as Rollins narrowed his eyes as if he were going in for the kill.

“You know, Barnes,” Rollins shrugged, exchanging a snide grin with his friends, “I’m a little surprised you’d even show your face around here after what happened. Takes guts.”

Bucky swallowed as though there weren’t blades in his throat. He tried not to let the hitch in his breath show or how his stomach dropped about ten feet below the surface. Instead, he pressed his lips together into a thin line, holding Rollins’ stare as if he were made of stone.

“You should leave,” Bucky said, his voice low enough to break gravel.

“Me?” Rollins mocked, laughing as he turned to his friends. Then, facing Bucky again as a darkness clouded over his features. “That's rich, coming from you.”

Bucky held his breath. He tried to draw on images of you sitting across from him at Luciana’s, how you smiled at him, how you made him feel like he didn’t carry such a heavy weight upon his back. He pictured you curled up next to him in your bed, imprints of the pillow on your cheeks and the covers pulled up tight to your chin. He imagined how your hand felt in his, how it brushed along his back, how your lips felt on his cheek, on his mouth.

But those pictures started to fade the longer Rollins stared at him, that devilish smirk upon his face as he ran a hand along his jawline, cracking his knuckles against the bone. Those comforting images of you sunk into the darkness, pulled from him somewhere far beyond where he could reach and suddenly, he felt like he was standing on a pillar at the center of the ocean, nothing but violent waves surrounding him for miles. Alone.

“I mean, what the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?” Rollins jeered, picking up a cookie from the table, inspecting it for a moment before he tossed it back on the platter. It crumbled on impact. “You think you even deserve to step foot in this building after what you did?”

“It didn’t go down like you think,” Bucky shot back, his voice uneven, wavering, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

He tried to repeat the words that Sam had worked to instill in him again and again for months after he came home. They never seemed to stick until the last few weeks but now – now they felt as far away as ever.

I did everything I could.

Some things are outside of my control.

It wasn’t my fault.

He wasn’t sure he believed that with Jack Rollins circling around him like a vulture, amused by the distress quickly forming against Bucky’s features.

From across the room, Sam stood up from his place on the couch, a hand gesturing over to Steve as he caught sight of Rollins. Bucky retreated in his stance, feeling as though Rollins was towering over him, his chest caving in. Rollin smirked, teeth bared and ready to strike.

With venom like precision, Rollins spat, “You’re the reason half our unit is dead, asshole.”

It hit like a sucker punch to the gut, made him stumbled back a few paces as if he were clocked in the chest. The initial blow only lasted for a few seconds before the overwhelming sense of shame seeped back into his veins, slipping through his blood like muddied waters and stealing away the careful, steady progress he’d made.

Then, a lingering acceptance as it cleared him to the surface.

A numbness took over, casting back to the shadows inside his mind. It was what he’d been waiting for since the day he’d stepped foot off that plane – for someone to confirm all the destruction and self-loathing he’d felt since that day.

Rollins was right.

I could have saved them.

I could have prevented all of it.

It was my fault.

He’d been foolish to convince himself otherwise.

“Hey!” Sam barked, jutting out in front of Bucky and shoving a hand to the middle of Rollin’s chest as he attempted to draw closer. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”

“My problem? My problem is you’re letting just about anyone walk through those doors!” Rollins shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky. “Your buddy here is responsible for eight of our own coming home in caskets!”

Bucky flinched, visibly recoiling as if something had burned him, and it seemed to be the reaction Rollins was looking for because a snide grin slid up along his cheeks.

Steve was suddenly on his left, a hand pressed to his shoulder. He was whispering something in his ear, but he couldn’t quite hear him. He could hardly make out what Sam was shouting as he attempted to push Rollins towards the door. A crowd was gathering – standing in watch to observe the shame of a soldier who should have burned in the desert with his friends.

“What’s going on?”

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sound of your voice as you appeared on his right. He didn’t know how long you’d been there or what you heard, but it was the first time he ever regretted allowing himself the luxury of your presence, of your warmth and kindness. You should have been an anchor beside him, but he could feel the rope slipping from his grip, letting him sink down into the ocean or float high into the clouds – somewhere far away from where you were.

You ran your hand along his arm, trying to thread an ounce of comfort back into his body, but he was rigid as stone. The touch was paralyzing. It was a reminder of his emptiness, of his ill attempt to be worthy of your affection. You seemed to notice as you stared up at him, worry filling your eyes.

“Ah, so you’ve got a girl now, too?” Rollins sneered towards Bucky, shoving Sam aside.

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky warned, his voice returning to him only in your defense. He stepped out in front of you, shielding you from Rollins’ gaze.

It only seemed to amuse him more. “Tell me, sweetheart. What’s it like? I mean, can he even get the job done? You wanna try being with a real man again?”

It was Sam that roared in response. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

Your hand rested on Bucky’s shoulder blades as if you were trying to ease him but he felt like he was on fire. Rollins shoved Sam aside to get a better look at you, a predator going in for the kill.

Rollins’ cold eyes stared directly into yours and Bucky felt his breathing stop.

“Did you know half of our unit died under his watch?”

Everything became white noise after that. Bucky didn’t dare turn to look at your reaction, nor could he hear Sam’s defense or Steve’s angry shouts as Rollins continued his taunts. He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, Rollins was on the floor. Sam was shaking his hand out, holding his fist against his chest.

Rollins stumbled his way back to his feet with a vengeance, folding his hands into fists as he charged at Sam.

“Get him out of here!” Steve’s muffled voice called to you as the crowd began to swarm in. Former soldiers joining the chaos, cheering or barreling fists. A man bumped into Bucky’s shoulder, but there was no trace of a reaction on his face. He was empty. He was numb.

Bucky could vaguely feel your hand as you slipped it into his pocket, drawing his own to intertwine between your fingers and you tugged him down the hall. He knew better than to look over his shoulder at the mess he was leaving behind.

***

You took Bucky into the empty library, quickly closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the shouting down the hall. Bucky stood at the head of the couch, his eyes downcast.

“Are you alright?” You knew there was no good answer. It was a foolish question. And still -- you asked.

Your hands slid along Bucky’s chest, up to his shoulders to try and draw some of the tension away, and for the first time, he recoiled under your touch. Your hands quickly dropped down to your sides as you took a few steps back, hands held tightly in front of you. A flash of remorse covered his features as he looked at you, but then the stone swept back in its place and hardened the softened edges you adored. You pushed aside the splinter inside your chest.

“Who was that guy anyway? He seems like a real piece of work.” You laughed, though it was tense and forced. Bucky didn’t so much as crack a smile.

It was silent for a moment. The only sound coming from the low hum of the radiator in the corner of the room. Bucky’s gaze was fixated on the carpet, staring at the years’ faded stains and the dust bunnies at the foot of the couch. A terrible aching tugging down on his lips, on his eyes, on his cheeks, and he barely resembled the man who had teased you over coffee at Luciana’s just an hour earlier.

“He was right, though.”

You swallowed, daring to ask, “what do you mean?”

“I'm the reason half my unit is dead,” Bucky replied flatly. When he looked at you again, you found his eyes were red, his lips swollen from chewing on the edges. His right hand had indents in his palm from where he’d dug his nails into the skin. Your stomach lurched.

“Oh, Bucky.” Your heart broke at the sight of him. “That... That can’t be true.”

He didn’t say anything, but the grit in his teeth was enough to tell you that he believed it. You’d only seen glimpses of how the war had touched him, how it cast shadows over the man he’d been before he stepped on that plane and adorned the uniform, but now – now, it felt like those shadows had consumed him whole. He couldn’t so much as see the soft rise of the sun over his shoulder. He was too swept up in the embrace of darkness. The light couldn’t touch him where he stood shielded by night.

“Why don’t we go to my place?” you offered, inching a step closer. When he didn’t retreat, you gathered his hand into your own. While he didn’t pull away again, you could feel the reluctance in his grip, the rigidity in his stance. “I can make dinner and we'll throw on a movie, okay? Let’s just get out of here.”

Your right hand slid along the side of his face, cupping at his cheek. He usually leaned into the touch, pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. Instead, the most he could force out was a tight-lipped smile that did not touch his eyes. You could practically feel how hard he was clenching his jaw, the muscle tired and aching. Still, he nodded.

As you led him out the back exit of the VA, you glanced behind you to see Rollins sitting on the floor, nursing a bloody nose as a police officer stood over him, jotting down notes as he spoke with Steve. Sam caught your eye for a second, nodding in your direction. A relief washed through you and you tugged Bucky outside before anyone could notice him slip out.

It was silent the whole walk to your apartment. It wasn’t entirely unusual, but it was the first time the air carried a lingering sense of discomfort in it. You wondered what was going on in Bucky’s head, how badly he’d construed whatever Rollins had said to him, even before you arrived. Sam had told you of Bucky’s self-destructive habit of carrying guilt far heavier than he could carry, guilt that didn’t belong to him. He seemed to welcome it like it was made for him. He didn’t mind if it ripped him apart and left him broken and empty when it was done. He seemed to think it was what he deserved.

You squeezed his hand, hoping it might draw back a sense of comfort, but he kept his eyes forward on the empty streets ahead. His hand was little more than limp in your hold.

***

Bucky was just on the edge of sleep when it began to creep up on him. Slow at first, and then, sudden, in violent flashes.

Sweltering heat. The low rumble of a jeep. An infectious laugh on his left and the cold compress of a gun in his hands. A sudden stop.

Bucky gritted his teeth, trying to turn away from the images attempting to draw him under, to sweep him beyond the current, to drown him in the darkest parts of the depth. But the riptide caught hold of his leg and forced him underwater.

Heavy equipment on his back. Sand under his feet. The sun blinding in his eyes.

He swallowed, but his throat was lined in rust. It burned. He couldn’t breathe.

A reflection over a valley. Someone shouting. Screaming. Warning. Frantic.

The kid. Get to the kid!

Then – the heat of a fire scorching his skin. Ringing in his ears. Muffled. Agonizing silence. Blood on the sand, on his shoes, dripping down his side and soaking into his uniform.

Pain. So much pain. So much pain. So much—

Bucky’s eyes shot open. He sucked in a breath of air and it came in short and shallow, barely filling his lungs, and he was panting for more. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, gasping for breath until he took enough in that the dizziness started to subside. His forehead was lined in sweat, his right hand shaking uncontrollably as he gripped at the sheets.

It was as mild as it’s ever been – the nightmares. Usually, he woke up screaming, his voice so raw it ached until morning. He thrashed and kicked and drew blood until something finally jarred him awake. He’d broken the lamp beside his bed four times in the weeks after he came home. It was violent and messy, and it was a damn miracle he’d only felt a sliver of it tonight.

But it had been so long since he had one. He almost thought they had finally released him from their hold before Rollins showed up. For a while, they let him be happy. He should have known better than to expect it to last.

The mattress dipped slightly behind him and with a sharp hilt, Bucky suddenly remembered where he was.

He turned over his shoulder to find you laying on the bed beside him, hair cast up and around you against the pillow, eyes closed, the steady rhythm of your breaths indicating you were still fast asleep. He stilled for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the light scrunch in your nose.

You’d tried so hard to get him to smile the whole evening after what happened at the VA. Constant touches to his cheeks, along his arm, playing absentmindedly with his hand. You made him dinner and curled up against him as you put on a movie that you were certain would turn his mood around, but he remained stoic and cold until you finally resigned to the bedroom.

He could tell how exhausted you were. Even reaching for his hand, there was a helplessness in your grasp, but you’d begged him to stay, insisting you didn’t want him to be alone after what happened at the VA. You held him tight to your chest, told him over and over again that you didn’t care what Rollins said, you knew he was a good man and that was all that mattered.

Bucky wanted so badly to believe that.

But here you were – so beautiful, a light, something good in his life he didn’t deserve.

Sam would kill him for giving into those thoughts again, but all he had in his head was violence and agony and there you were – so peaceful and soft and kind. He'd taint you with all the mess threatening to break through his seams. He’d hurt you. He'd break you. You couldn’t hold him together no matter how hard you tried. He didn’t deserve such kindness. Today reminded him of that.

Bucky leaned in and pressed a short kiss to your temple. It was feather light and still, you sighed in your sleep. He tried not to notice when the corners of your lips curved up into a smile.

Then, he crept out of the room, stealing one last look at you as you turned onto your side, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Something tugged inside his chest, begging him to stay. He could feel it pushing him back toward the bed, to your embrace and the comfort it brought, but he turned his back. He ignored his every instinct to return to your side and dragged his feet of the bedroom instead.

Despite his reluctance, he found himself lingering on the photograph in your hallway of the Air Force pilot; sandy blonde hair, a tight-lipped smile, features that made him look younger than he probably was. A pang of jealousy wretched into his stomach at the sight of this nameless man. Shame quickly followed.

You never spoke of the man in the photo – the nameless Air Force pilot who stood at your side in front of your parents. The way you pressed out a smile despite your tears, the position of your stance angled closer to the pilot as if to preserve your last remaining moments together, made Bucky question what had happened to this man. This was clearly a man you had loved. Might still love.

Bucky didn’t dare allow himself to wonder if he had ever measured up. He supposed now he would not get the chance.

Bucky let out a sigh as he turned away from the picture. He made it all the way to the door before he heard the squeak of the floor boards behind him.

“Bucky?”

Sleep was still etched in your voice. You yawned as you folded your arms, squinting at him to adjust to the dim light in the kitchen. Bucky clenched his jaw, reluctantly turning to face you.

“It’s the middle of the night,” you said, eyes flickering to the clock above the stove. It was then you must have noticed the jacket draped over his shoulders, boots on his feet, hand begrudgingly releasing the door knob. Your face fell. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t know what to say. Was there an easy way to break your heart? Was there any excuse that could allow both of you to walk away from this unharmed? There was no good answer, but his silence certainly was worse.

“Bucky?” you tried again and he could hear the inflection of concern etched into your tone. You took a step closer to him and he held himself firm. He was stone now. It was what he had to be.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered out, voice low, though he met your eye. “I can’t do this.”

If you were still half asleep a moment ago, you weren’t anymore. Your eyes widened, lips parting. Your arms fell down to your sides.

“What... What are you talking about?” you exhaled, barely above a whisper. He could hear the hurt in your voice, the confusion, and he hated himself for it. You stepped closer, reaching out for his hand. “Please, just come back to bed. You look like you haven't slept for—”

Bucky pulled his hand away the moment you touched his fingers. It forced a hitch in your breath, a step back. You hadn’t expected him to recoil from you like that. Two times in the same day. You were losing him, the realization clear in your eyes. He was slipping and he would not take the tether as you threw it to him.

“This is about what that man said at the VA, isn’t it?” you asked timidly, your lip quivering. You shook your head, trying to hold back tears though Bucky could practically hear the tension from the lump in your throat. “He was... he was just being cruel. I don’t believe a word of it. And neither does Sam or Steve – the people that love you, Bucky. Don’t give in into him. Don’t let him win.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, rendering his reaction colder than you deserved.

You reached out for him again, a habit, though you pulled your hand back to your chest before you could touch him. It was shaking.

“Honey, please,” you tried again, unwilling to give up on him like you should. “Come get some rest and maybe you’ll feel better in the morning. Just... don’t go. Don’t be alone with this.”

You were begging. He could hear it in your voice. The desperation. And still—Bucky offered you nothing in return.

He sank so far inside himself you couldn’t reach beyond the cliffside to offer your hand. All it took was a single push. He was already standing so close to the edge. Rollins had set a hand on his back, like an old friend, like an enemy, and shoved. Bucky didn’t even try to catch his fall.

“Whatever this is...” Bucky murmured and eyes focused down at the tile, unable to look at you as he broke your heart, “it’s over.”

His heart was splintering as he said it and still, he turned and left without another word. He didn’t wait for your response, didn’t wait to see whether his cruelty had ended in tears, and closed the door behind him. You didn’t attempt to follow.

You’d understand eventually, he convinced himself. Even a woman as compassionate and loving as you couldn't possibly love a man so broken, with jagged edges and open wounds, with shards of glass embedded inside him and poison in his touch. Empty and hollow. Broken.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years ago

Text

The Red Hood (Part 1)

Summary: While on a job, the reader runs into The Red Hood. She discovers his true identity to be Dean Winchester from one of the wealthiest families in the city. She knows he’s made a few enemies and tries to take advantage of that fact to get something she needs in return...

Masterlist

Pairing: Vigilante!Dean x criminal!reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, fighting

A/N: Enjoy!

________

“Oh, crap,” you said, feeling the binding around your torso. You thought you’d made it out clean. But if it was someone using a gadget like that, it wasn’t any security guard. You grunted as you saw a figure emerge from the shadows, a hood up and a mask covering his eyes. “Let me walk and you can have the money.”

“Not my style,” he said. He walked over carefully, tilting his head at you. His cautious approach stopped when he suddenly stepped over and ripped the mask covering your face off. You scowled at him but he simply stared. “I’m taking you in.”

He bent down and you used the opportunity to swing your legs up and wrap around his neck. He went wide eyed and glared at you but you smirked.

“Goodnight Mr. Vigilante,” you said. He tried pulling you off but he lost consciousness quickly. You let him drop to the ground and moved your leg back, managing to grab the knife in your boot. You sliced through the lower bindings and eventually got the ropes off. You almost left when you saw the unconscious Red Hood on the ground. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little blackmail after all. You pulled out your phone and pushed down his hood, ripping off the mask over his eyes. You took a few pictures of the man, something familiar about him.

You grinned when you recognized him as the ward of the biggest tech company in the city.

If you played your cards right, a week from now you’d be loaded and sipping mai tais on the beach, never having to worry about pulling a job ever again.

“Shit!” you shouted the next evening, jumping straight back into your counter. The Red Hood was standing silently at the edge of your kitchen, narrowing his eyes at you. He threw down a manila envelope on the counter and stalked over to you.

“I don’t negotiate with criminals,” he said.

“I don’t think it’d look too good if Dean Winchester were to be found out as The Red Hood. With all the crimes you’ve committed yourself. I bet that’d ruin a few of your family’s contracts,” you said. You reached up to grab his hood when he caught your wrist. “I felt I was very generous with my offer.”

“Fifty million is generous?” he scoffed. He shoved your wrist away and put his back to you, tugging his hood back. He slipped his eye mask down around his neck and glanced over his shoulder. “I should throw you in prison.”

“For stealing from rich people? They can afford it just like you can afford this. Take it out of your trust fund. I bet no one would even notice,” you said.

“What do you need that much money for?”

“What do you need it for? None of your business.”

“The answer is no.”

“Then I guess your photo of you out cold at a crime scene in your little costume will be on the news very, very shortly.”

“It’s an excessive amount,” he said.

“Your family is billionaires. You got the cash.”

“I can’t move that much without red flags.”

“Figure it out.”

“I could just make you disappear,” he said, stepping in front of you. “You couldn’t stop me.”

“You only murder the bad guys and unfortunately for you, I just steal things and knock people out. It’s not justified. Your old partner, that bat guy, even he didn’t kill people,” you said.

“He let me down, more than once. I do things the way they need to be done,” he said. “Don’t think because you’re a woman you get special treatment.”

“Wouldn’t expect it,” you said. “Give me my money and you will never hear from me again.”

“Five million.”

“No way.”

“Five million a month for the next ten months,” he said. “It won’t raise too many eyes. I can justify a cost for that.”

“Fifty. One payment,” you said, crossing your arms.

“What the hell do you need with that much money?”

“Maybe I want to donate to charity. It’s not your concern. You have three days to get my money into that bank account. If you don’t, you and your entire family’s business are going down. Have I made myself clear?”

“I will find all copies and when I do, you’re gonna have a big problem. Count on it.”

He went out your back door and you rolled your eyes, already making plans to have extra copies out there just in case.

Three Days Later

“You’re good,” said Marcus. You stared at him and he smiled. “You’re clean kid. Debt repaid with interest. Your family is safe again. Any interest in working for me again? You’ll get to keep some of the profits now.”

“I’m not meant for this line of work,” you said. “Lose my number?”

“You’re not as bad as you think. Just got a pesky conscious. Enjoy retirement,” he said. You hummed and quickly left, taking a deep breath.

Half an hour later you were heading to the airport with five million dollars in your bank account and ready to go start over.

Two Days Later

“Nice view,” said a voice behind you. You sat up from your chair by the pool, staring up at Dean as he smiled. “Nice house. A little smaller than I was expecting for fifty million dollars in the bank. If you had fifty million that was. More like five now, hm?”

“I still have copies,” you said as he sat in the chair beside you.

“Oh, I know,” he said, stealing your drink. “Whoa, fruity and a lot of rum.”

“What do you want?”

“My plan was to hunt you down and get my money back and get you to give up the copies and get you thrown in prison. But I’ve had a change of heart.”

“Really. Just like that.”

“If you told me innocent lives were in danger, I could have been a lot nicer. Marcus is an unforgiving criminal. But even he could let a mistake go for forty five million, right?”

“I owed him ten. The thirty five was interest. I screwed up a job when I wouldn’t kill a guard. He lost the pay. I started working for him most every night to pay it off. If I didn’t, he’d deal with my family over on the other coast. He’s connected enough to have them watched. For forty five million, they are safe.”

“Sounds like you owe me five million dollars,” he said, holding out his hand. “Fork it over.”

“I can’t live there anymore. I need to be out of that city,” you said.

“You’ll come back eventually. But you owe me five million dollars,” he said. You dropped your head and sighed, resting your head in your hands. “Or you can give me every single copy of the photos and agree to never steal another thing in your life and in exchange, I will pretend you didn’t take five million for yourself.”

“Are you serious?” you said, snapping your head up. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Why would you do that?”

“Why didn’t you tell Marcus who I was? That would have cleared whatever you owed and then some,” he said. You shrugged and he smiled. “I have a sneaking suspicion you’re a good person. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the other criminals.”

You reached to your left and grabbed your phone, deleting the picture and then permanently deleting it again.

“You never had copies,” he said.

“Nope. You could have taken my phone and that would have been that.”

“Then I guess that settles that,” he said. “Nice place to retire to.”

“Yup,” you said.

“Mind if I crash here? Considering I bought this place and all.”

“Why are you staying here?”

“I did something yesterday. My old partner called me up, told me I ought to take a break for a bit. He had some valid points,” he said. “No one’s ever knocked me out before.”

“I have many skills,” you said. He chuckled and stretched out his body.

“I bet you do. So am I staying?”

“You can stay if you get me a refill,” you said, taking the glass from him and drinking the rest of the liquid. You held it out to him and he sat up.

“Alright. Don’t go running off on me again.”

“I think this time I’ll stay put.”

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart.”

“For now.”

“Oh really? Where you thinking of going?”

“Home to Gotham. Eventually,” you said. He stared at you and glanced down, nodding to himself.

“How about a nice vacation in the meantime?” he asked.

“After you. Sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#spn #supernatural #au #au!dean x reader #dean x reader #red hood!dean #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

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itzyourgirlnat · 3 years ago

Text

Not a science fan

It’s a monday evening, you and Kara are eating peacefully.

‘So, your school called me this morning’ she said while eating.

You immediately stopped eating and raised your head to look at her.

‘whatever they said I did it wasn’t me’

‘What? Kid, no! You didn't do anything wrong’ she stopped for a second ‘Did you?’

‘No! of course not’ you said while choking a bit.

‘Anyways, they called me to know if you were attending “the ceremony” this Saturday. It seems that you didn't confirm your attendance?’

‘oh, OOH’ Of course, the ceremony, you completely forgot about it.

The thing is that when this school year began, you were supposed to take physics. However, you hated it. Ok, you didn't hate it, but you definitely weren’t a fan (which is hilarious since your mom is literally one of the best scientists on the planet). But the funniest part was that even your teacher knew, actually it was him who recommended you to quit his class. At first you were shocked because science is something you’ve always done, what could you do instead of that? That’s when he suggested the newspaper along with a class specialised on writing. It is true that you’ve always been good at writing stories, but you never considered taking it seriously.

Anyways, literally the next day instead of learning about physics you’re learning the basic elements of a storyline. The surprising part was that after that class, you completely fell in love with it and, since then, you started working on a simple storyline that ended up being much more complex and longer than you expected. You wanted to talk to your moms about it, but when all happened you weren’t seeing them that much, and once you were, you just didn't have the courage to do it. A thing that stopped you was that both Kara and Lena were geniuses when it comes to science. But the main problem was with Lena, you’ve spent so much time with her in her lab in L-Corp, and even if you didn't enjoy it as much as her, every time you spent with her there was such a bonding experience that you couldnt tell the truth. So you just avoid the topic, even if you knew that one day they would find out.

Going back to the ceremony, that story you first started writing ended up becoming a book. A novel that you had to present in order to pass the class. What you weren’t aware of at the time was that the best ones would compete in a contest that involved schools from all National city. And, last week, you were given the news that your story was one of the finalists.

While you were scolding yourself mentally for not declining the invitation Kara had put all the food away and was now cleaning.

‘What’s that ceremony?’ she questioned while turning around to look at you

‘It’s nothing’

‘Y/N’

You sighed

‘I wasn’t planning on going anyways’

She did the famous crickle and that’s when Lena entered the kitchen

‘Hi loves’ she kissed Kara and then kissed you cheek.

‘What are you two talking about?’

‘Your daughter was invited to a ceremony’

‘Really? what is it about?’ she questioned

‘It's nothing, just an award ceremony’ you got up and started walking towards your room.

‘Wait, so you are nominated for something?’

‘It seems like it’ you sighed ‘but it's nothing and I wasn't planning on going’

`Why?’ Kara asked

‘What for? I’m not gonna win and I don't really care if I do’ you walked towards the door

‘Well I do,’ Lena said. ‘Can we go?’

‘The principal told me that we could’ Kara said

‘Guys it's really not necessary’

‘Of course it is!’ Kara said

‘Wait, is it that science competition?’ Lena asked

Oh no

‘Emm no’

‘Then what is it?’

They both looked at you. You took a deep breath

‘Its, its justforasillybookIwroteforaclass’ you said as fast as you could

‘Wait wait , wait, what?’ Lena said

‘Did you say you wrote a book?’ Kara said walking towards you

‘Umm yeah’

‘Why didn’t you tell us?!’

‘When did you say the ceremony was?’ Lena asked

‘Saturday. Y/N why didn’t you say anything?’

You were about to answer when Alex called her sister. Soon enough she had to leave for a Supergirl emergency. Thank Rao

‘We’ll talk about this later’ she said before leaving

You were already going to you room when Lena called you to sit with her

‘So, Y/N, for what class did you have to write the book for?’ she said, raising her brow. Oh no, she knows, she totally knows

‘Please don't get mad’ you said

‘Why would I?’

‘Ok, so, its for a writing class that I’m taking’

‘Really?’

You nodded

‘Why would that make me mad?’

‘Because I’m taking it instead of physics. Sorry I didn’t tell you, I swear I’ll join physics again if you want me too’ You looked away from her expecting an angry response. Surprisingly, she grabbed your hand and squished it gently

‘Y/N, I know’

‘What?’

‘Did you really think you could just change your classes without me finding out?’

‘Yes?’

She chuckled

‘Of course not. in fact your physics teacher told me about the newspaper and the writing class before telling you’

‘So, YOU’VE KNOWN ALL THIS TIME?’

She was now laughing hard, but she soon hugged you. After some minutes she let go of you and placed a lock of you hair behind you ear

‘and you’re not mad?’

‘No! I mean, it did hurt that you didn’t tell us but, it's your life and if you prefer to attend that class I support your decision’

‘I’m sorry. I just didn’t wanna make you feel disappointed and-’

‘What? Honey, you know you could never disappoint me’

‘I know, it's just that science in general is something that you really enjoy and that I’m supposed to be good at. But it also made us spend a lot of time together at L-Corp. And, I love spending time with you, I guess I didn't want that to end’

‘Oh Y/N. Look, just because I enjoy science doesn't mean you have to like it too. Besides, spending time together doesn’t have to involve science. When I take you to L-Corp it's nothing more than an excuse to spend time with you. But we could do other things, all I care about is spending time with you’

It was now your turn to hug her.

You cuddled for a while and when you were about to fall asleep in her arms she asked ‘Why didn’t you tell mom? I mean writing is kind of her thing’

‘I was planning on doing so, but I’m not very good at it, and I wanted to improve before I show her’

‘What did we tell you about being perfect Y/N?’

‘I know, but ieu is a Pulitzer winner. I doubt I’ll ever be at her level but I wanted it to be at least presentable before showing it to her. I want her to be proud’

She caressed your cheek

‘She’ll always be proud of you. Well except if you murder someone or do something very terrible like that’

You laughed at her comment

‘But I’m sure she’s dying to read it’

‘Thanks mom’

She kissed your forehead and at that moment through the window Kara entered

‘Hi guys’

‘Hi’ you both said turning your heads to look at her

You looked at Lena, who somehow guessed what you were thinking (like always) and nodded

‘I wanna show you something’ you said to Kara before sprinting towards your room. Before anyone could say anything you were already back with a your book in your hands

‘Here’ you said giving it to Kara ‘The binding is pretty simple but the full final story is in there’

She was looking at the novel in her hands

‘You wrote this?’ her eyes were starting to water

‘Yeah. Please have mercy while reading it, its not -’

‘It's perfect’ she then hugged you harder than she had done in a long time 'I'm sure it is'

‘Does this mean you’ll go to the award ceremony?’ Lena ask

‘I mean I have nothing better to do this Saturday’

That same night Kara started reading your book. It was actually 3 am when you woke up to go to the bathroom when you saw a light coming from their bedroom. You walked towards the light and saw Kara still reading your book out loud with Lena on her lap listening. They were so invested in the story that they didn’t even notice you. You decided to give them some privacy and went back to your room.

The next day you were so nervous, you knew that they had been reading your book but were too scared to ask for their opinion. Luckily between school and practice you didn't have time to think much about it. After a long day you finally got home and as soon as you entered the door both of your moms ran to you.

‘Y/N! when Rory is at the cave under the fire palace and gives Camila the silver stone and tells her that is her turn to take care of it, does it mean he has accepted that he won’t see her again?’ Kara asked very seriously

But before you could answer her question Lena asks ‘But if that is true why does he continue to deny the fact that he won’t be able to see her again during the next four chapters?’

You chuckled ‘Wait you’ve already read it all?’

‘Yeah and we have questions so please tell us’ Kara asked

You spent around an hour answering all their questions about your book. This made you incredibly happy since they were both so into it

‘You’re gonna write a sequel right?’

‘I wasn’t planning on doing so’

‘WHAT?!

‘But Y/N it's not only an incredible story but the way you portray society and all the critiques you make are perfectly made. I mean this is more than a fantasy story’ Kara exclaimed and at that moment you couldn’t hold it anymore and started crying. She panicked and hugged you immediately

‘Did I say something wrong?’ she asked very worried

‘Do you really like it that much?’ you asked

‘Of course I do! Not only because you wrote it but because it is really good’

‘Then I’ll have to write another one’

‘Please do’ Lena said ‘And no pressures but don't take long because I need to know if Rowan survives’

You all laughed

‘I knew you'd like him’

It was three days later, Saturday evening, you were all getting ready to go to the award ceremony. A week ago you didn’t care about this event, but now, after your moms read your work, you were really nervous. You walked to the kitchen with the outfit you had chosen earlier (a dress or a suit,... something elegant of your choice).

‘Wow, you look great’ Lena said

‘Like mother like daughter I guess’

She winked at you. Soon enough you were all in the car and suddenly you were already sat in the auditory surrounded by other nominees and even a couple press members.

‘Nervous?’ Kara asked who was on your right

‘Kind of’

‘Don’t be’ Lena who was on your left held your hand

A few categories were announced and yours was the next

‘Hey, whatever happens we’re very proud of you’ Kara said

The following things happened very quickly. Suddenly your name was called and you were walking towards the stage after Lena literally crushed you with a hug. And five seconds later you were with the second prize in your hands. Once many pictures were taken you were walking down towards your moms when a man in what looked like a very expensive suit approached you

‘Congratulations’ he said

‘Thank you’

‘I’m Anthony Lee’

‘Ar-are you serious? you’re the owner of one of the most important publishing houses of the city’

He chuckled

‘I see you know who I am’

You were about to reply when you heard Kara calling you.

‘I don’t want to take much of your time, just wanted to ask you to continue writing, you’ve clearly inherited your mothers ability with words’

You blushed

‘Well thank you’

He gave you a card with a phone number and an email

‘Please, if write something else send it to this email and one day we may work together’

With that he kindly said goodbye and left. You then walked towards your moms and Kara immediately hugged you.

‘Y/N you did it! I’m so proud of you!’

‘Congratulations darling’ Lena said squeezing your arms

‘Thank you guys’

‘Who was that man that approached you?’ Kara said

‘That was Anthony Lee’ you said

‘No way!’ Kara replied

‘Emm a bit of context please?’ Lena said

‘He’s the owner of one of the biggest publishing houses of the city!’ Kara said almost jumping

‘He told me to send some of my future work so that one day we can work together’ you said blushing once more

‘Are you serious?!’ Lena said

You nodded. Immediately they both hugged you and somehow Alex was soon hugging you and then Kelly (it turns out your moms couldn’t hold it and told almost everyone about the ceremony). You then went to a restaurant to celebrate and had an amazing time with everyone.

Once in your car on your way home you said ‘Hey guys?’

‘Yes baby?’

‘Thanks for making me go, it was really fun’

‘Well, we didn't do you much. You were the one who won’ Lena said

‘I got second place’

‘Same thing to me’ she replied to which you all laughed.

It had really been a very unexpected week.

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

Hi !! Just wanted to let you all know that you can send me request anytime and that the ones that I already have received will be done as soon as possible :)

(thanks for all the support btw I really appreciate it)

#supergirl #supercorp x daughter!reader #supercorp wifes #supercorp parents #supergirl imagine #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp x reader #lena luthor x reader #kara danvers x reader #fluff #kara danvers x daughter!reader #lena luthor x daughter! reader

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hyper-lynx · 6 months ago

Text

Epilogue: Dawn

Thank you for going on this journey with me. It was something I've never really done before, and I'm proud of how it's come together. Thank you for having me @wizblr-blue-moon-ball. See you next time!

Most of the others had dispersed from the terrace before Hemi stood up. Liam was beside him in an instant. The implications of that moment were not lost on either, but they each had the mercy to wait until later to discuss it at length. Hemi felt his muscles buckle, and his arcane power level felt low as well. He considered the displacement he would have to perform to return home, but still felt confident he could make it there if he let the currents push him along.

“So, what now?” Liam asked. “What do you want to do? If, ah, you still wanted to dance again, I can try, but man, that spell took a lot out of me.”

Hemi chuckled and looked at the subtle gray emerging onto the sky. “I appreciate the eagerness, but I’m pretty worn out myself. Do you want to watch the sun rise with me?” Hemi moved a chair to the gilded railing, which overlooked the sky-docks. The clouds had dissolved, so the dark form of Wizard Island Island itself sprawled to the horizon. A few of the towers already had lights in their windows -- tiny pinpricks from such a distance. Liam reached out his hand, and Hemi held it gently.

“It’s strange.” Hemi remarked. “You’d think I’d get tired of seeing things like this, but-- in my experience, no one really does, not if you keep exploring. Every new vista stands alone. Do you agree?”

Liam looked down over the city. “It’s beautiful. So, I guess I do.” He tightened his grip slightly. The pink material of his dress started to express its color as the light from the horizon increased in measures. The blue moon was already gone beyond the horizon, so Hemi’s emblem felt increasingly heavy and out of place against his chest.

It was a subtler beauty then dusk, but hints of red crept onto the edge of the sky. The stars were hidden by now too, but the earth started to come into view. Then, daybreak. The sun pierced the peaks of the sea of towers and hills below and cast a ray of white light across the heavens. The city and the garden alike regained the natural colors of daylight, as did the cats themselves, their outfits almost gaudy in the brightness against their patterned coats of fur. The night, the moon, were all reduced to just memories.

When the cats walked through the ballroom, few remained inside. When they reached the atrium, they found about a dozen guests still wishing each other farewell. Lurien himself was here also. He excused himself from that trio of gnomes and made his way to the cats. “I trust you had an enjoyable experience?”

Hemi and Liam both nodded at once. “It was incredible,” Liam gestured broadly to all the gold and the fabric, the people and the traces of the night that seemed to bind itself to everything.

“You really outdid yourself, Lurien,” Hemi added. “If you have another such event at some point in the future, please do invite us back. Any occasion.”

Lurien gave a little grin. “Of course. Best of luck with your work for your council, sir. We appreciate your service. Will you need conveyance to your point of arrival?”

“Hm?” Hemi recalled their first moments of the ball. “Oh! Oh, no, I’ve got that under control. Thank you, again!”

Lurien bowed, and led everyone back to the front gardens. Even with the sun low in the sky, the sky was fully blue now, so everything felt a little different compared to at dusk. The two said their goodbyes to the few attendees who were still nearby, and then found a secluded area of the grounds. Hemi paced in a circle and willed his power to the tips of his ears once more. As ever, he knew the way home reflexively.

“That’s that.” He told Liam. “Are you ready to leave?” Liam looked back at the mansion once more. “...Yes.”

Reality groaned softly, and the wind started to spiral around Hemi as he crouched down and bobbed his head. He leapt and cleaved the air into a shining portal. Liam felt the grass beneath him once more, and then followed through the rift. With a thundercrack, reality mended itself, and the cats had departed.

Two Cats Attend the Blue Moon Ball

Chapter 1: Dusk

Featuring @wizblr-blue-moon-ball's Lurien and @flowers-the-sun-witch, along with Hemi and Liam of course. This is the first chapter of probably several that I will make for some of the prompts. Character appearances will vary and can be removed on request!

A calm wind blew over Wizard Island Island’s coastal region, bringing a mild warmth over the old stones and dozens of pointy-hatted towers dotting the landscape. The sky was overcast, but it was clear despite this that the sun was near the horizon. The shimmering line of the ocean adorned the horizon. Along a path of well-trodden cobbles, the air bent and tore, until, with a burst of chromatic power, two felines landed onto the earth. Hemi, wreathed in the gentle fabric of his deep indigo dress, felt the lukewarm air suddenly about his legs until the dress behaved itself. The emblem of the moon was dim in the low light, but still plainly visible. Shortly behind him, Liam practically flowed out of the rift. His gown had the general design of the lunar hibiscus -- pink and, in Hemi’s opinion, somewhat bulbous, but still quite elegant. He held the corners of the dress in a way that suggested he had experience landing from a dimensional vortex in such attire. Once both cats exited the distortion, reality was quick to mend itself.

“Aha, we’re-- um.” Hemi looked around, then let his head tilt. “Where’s--”

They stood at the long-forgotten gates to a property that was seemingly completely absent. There was not a trace of any building -- in its place, an immense crater marred the landscape. The only thing that remained was a tarnished silver archway and a few mana crystals that poked out from the ground at the edges of the place.

Liam gasped. “Did something--?”

“Impossible. If something this big was -- gone, I’d have heard about it. Besides, that gate… must have been abandoned for a hundred years.” Hemi closed his eyes and tried to visualize the route on the invitation he’d been given, but he was certain it led to this general area, and there shouldn’t be any other large estate in the vicinity. Were all his days of anticipation really --

“Oh--! Hemi, look!”

Hemi opened his eyes to the sight of what looked like an angelic being descending through the clouds. He plummeted rapidly and then came to a sudden stop in the air just beyond the gate, not displacing any air or showing any discomfort in the process. An elf with radiant wings, blue into yellow, clothed in shining white silks. Despite his short stature, the elf had a golden power behind his eyes that commanded respect. The emblem of the Blue Moon shone in iridescent stone, adorning his crown.

“Greetings! Hyperlynx Hemi, I presume?” The elf spoke with a quiet tone that nonetheless carried through the emptiness. “I see you’ve found our ‘back entrance’.”

“Oh--! Um, hello, sir--?” Hemi stammered in response as both cats approached the gate.

“Lurien is fine. In any case, I’ve arranged transport for you and your partner. Please proceed through the gate.”

Hemi tilted his head to the opposite side and gazed into the spiky, terrifying chasm just beyond the rusted passage. “Um-- I ah, don’t have any flight spell active…” He glanced at Liam, who shook his head silently.

“That’s fine, sir. I assure you there are accommodations for all creatures at the Blue Moon Ball.” He looked down at some kind of brass handheld timekeeping device. “Although, I would insist you move swiftly. The event will be starting momentarily.”

Hemi huffed softly and looked to Liam, who took the lead. Liam gathered his gown about his feet and cautiously stepped through the gate. He half expected the world to suddenly burst into light and color around him, but no such thing happened. Instead, his foot met with a soft resistance, an invisible surface. It felt a bit like walking across a mattress. Seeing the leopard defy gravity, Hemi followed suit.

“Impressive spell, but where is--” Hemi was cut off when the platform was suddenly thrust skyward. The earth fell away, and waves of amber light emanated from the invisible surface above them as it blocked the wind. Lucien cracked a soft smile -- the emblem across his chest shimmered softly as the three beings were brought up. Even the clouds broke around the barrier above them, until--!

The sun, from its place ever-lower on the horizon, lavished golden light across a wondrous skyscape. A great layer of clouds the size of mountains formed the base, speckled with tiny sections of floating stone -- likely pieces of distant floating islands that came in the wind across the sea. Beyond the shelf of clouds, the light glinted on the water. Above it all, though, a grand estate was situated. The main island consisted of an immense floating mansion. In a way, it was almost more like a town -- the lower section was something of a hull, with docking ports for flying ships and tiered gardens protruding from openings in its sides. Atop, the mansion sprawled across a massive expanse of once-natural earth, with what must have been hundreds of rooms and halls. Near the center, the peak of a wizard’s tower wis visible, adorned with the same lunar emblem.

Lucien watched the two cats take it all in as he platform moved in a grand circuit through the air above the venue. “Sunset really is wonderful at this altitude, isn’t it?” He noted. The light cast off everything, and the shadow of the floating manor lengthened forever across the clouds. Hemi took a moment to glance down at Liam, whose eyes were literally wide with wonder.

Their dutiful invisible chariot let them down in the plaza just before the main gates. It seemed nearly everyone else was already somewhere inside, since this courtyard was otherwise occupied only by a trio of gnomes who seemed to pay the cat-men no mind. Lucien directed their attention to a statue of a human woman, depicted 20 feet tall in marble stricken with veins of some shimmering blue mineral. Water flowed from small slots below the woman’s feet into small channels that fed this section of the gardens.

“This is the original owner of the manor, Mistress Areth Lunacai. It’s said she discovered the arcane properties of lunar sapphire, and therefore mastered the art of permanent levitation. In her time, her genius was not recognized, so she wrested her family’s estate into the skies, where it still remains.”

“Wow…” Liam looked up at her. Hemi, however, was already distracted by looking at the venue itself. As the light of dusk began to fade, Hemi crossed his arms over his chest.

“Lucien, sir?” He interjected. “Are we late for-- anything?”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “You accuse me of being late to my own ball?”

“Um--! Well, no, I--”

The host smiled. “No, it’s understandable. You are actually somewhat early. While most attendees have made their way to the main hall and its waiting rooms, the formal schedule will not commence for half an hour at minimum. Plenty of time, no?” Hemi nodded and looked to the side. He thanked the gods for the impenetrably thick fur that hid his now-red cheeks from view, then took a deep breath. There was no great rush. This was an event for fun, after all. The sleepless night before preparing… the weeks of anticipation… It all led to this night, where everything was arranged for him. He walked closer beside Liam.

Lurien turned over his shoulder, towards a figure in a blue dress who had appeared amidst the gardens. “Ah, I see a new guest has arrived. Excuse me.” Lucien bowed and began to gracefully stride towards the newcomer.

“Hey Hemi, do you want to go meet them? The person over there, I mean?”

Hemi looked to the newcomer, then back at the red wisps of frozen clouds high above. “I think I’ll watch the sunset for now. You go ahead -- we’re all going to the main hall anyway, right?”

Liam nodded and followed Lurien’s path through the gardens as quickly as he could without letting any dirt get on his outfit. By the time he arrived, the host was already leading the other person back up a scenic route along the terrain’s edge towards the fountain. Their long brown hair -- adorned with red flowers -- was tied into a set of four pigtails that dangled about elven ears and onto the shoulders of a truly cute blue dress, tied with a red belt bearing a once-live sunflower. They looked up at the approaching beastman with only momentary confusion. Lucien, without even looking in Liam’s direction, nodded.

“I’ll allow you two a moment to become acquainted. There’s a matter I’ll need to attend to.” Lucien announced. A moment later, a great eagle flew dangerously close to the edge of the island and began circling the courtyard. Lucien sighed and, with a subtle movement of his wings, lifted off to redirect the bird’s rider.

“Oh gosh!” The witch put a hand against her mouth and giggled.

Liam shook his head. “Some people…” He turned his attention back to the immediate environs. “Well-- ah, greetings!” Liam gave a curtsy. “My name’s Liam.”

The witch returned the favor. “I’m Flowers, the Sun Witch. It’s nice to meet you! I like your dress.”

“Thank you~!” Liam twirled around a little. “Yours is very cute.”

The witch smiled, but didn’t reply verbally. The two watched for a moment as the now distant eagle followed Lucien -- from this range, a point of light -- towards the arcane beast stables on the lower levels. “I’ve not seen a dress of that style in a while. Lunar hibiscus, right?” Liam’s head tilted slightly. “How did you--”

“I don’t call myself ‘Flowers’ for no reason. The color’s pretty accurate, too. Though, those flowers are pretty rare on the island…”

“Ah, I’m not actually from here. I’m not even properly a wizard -- that title belongs to my partner. I’m his plus-one.”

“Oh!” Flowers looked along the rim of the floating landmass. “Is that him?” She pointed out Hemi, sitting alone on an outcropping, watching the redness leave the sky as night took over.

“Yeah…” Liam put his hand behind his head. “He’s a little shy. I’m sure he’ll warm up when things kick off.”

“Flowers nodded, then tapped her foot. “I hope the host is back soon… I hope everything’s alright with the bird situation.”

As if on cue, on a beam of light, Lucien appeared next to the two guests. “I apologize for the wait, Mx. Flowers. I hope you’ll forgive my cutting your tour short for the moment, as the floor will open momentarily. I suggest you both make your way to the main hall and meet some more of the guests in the meantime.”

“Ah-! Of course, thank you.” Flowers began to walk down the garden path towards Hemi. Lucien, apparently satisfied, vanished into light.

“Um--” Liam trotted after her surprisingly quick gait. “The fastest path is to the right.”

“We need to collect your partner, don’t we?” The sun witch glanced back at him. “Besides, I need to compliment his dress, too.”

By the time they arrived, the sun had completely set, so Hemi was just staring off into the swirling expanse of the clouds below. His ears were somewhat askew-- when Liam approached, they swiveled to face him.

“Hey, we’re supposed to go inside soon.” Liam let a gentleness into his tone.

Hemi stretched and stood. He used a quick gesture to disconnect the dirt from his dress’ fabric, so it became fully clean in an instant. When he turned around, he started at the sight of the witch who accompanied Liam.

“Oh--! Um--” Hemi gave a clumsy bow. “Hello-- I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you.”

The witch extended her hand. “I’m Flowers. What’s your name?”

“...Hemi.” He said, and shook her hand with his paw. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well. I like your dress~!” She told him. Hemi’s ears flipped, but he smiled in response.

A latch sounded at the main door. “Ah, it seems it’s time to enter. Have a wonderful time, you two--!” Flowers curtseyed again, and was off.

Liam looked at Hemi with a soft grin..

“What? I was surprised…”

“Nothing, nothing.” He took Hemi’s hand. “Another adventure, right?”

“--Right.”

The two cats proceeded towards the gathering group of wizards and the great oaken doors. The blue moon shone bright overhead.

#blue moon ball #blue moon ball writing #wizardposting #hyperlynx rp #furry #anthro leopard #anthro lynx #oc writing #bmb prompt 7 #wizblr blue moon ball #gay #i really wrote more for this then I originally expected #the final word count is 12637 with titles #i think i want to try to keep this energy going with more writing in general but i'll be taking a break for now for obvious reasons #anyway. it was a lot of fun!#thank you for having me #have a good rest of your day #oh also if you found this post first #read this in my blog view so that the column is wider

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maybemingomango · 3 years ago

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Could you do a shigaraki with the 'why do you have to be so stubborn?' But like yandera, and they/them pronouns?

Of course I can!

The Great Escape || Yandere!Shigaraki x Reader

Genre: Angst to Fluff

Words: 1.1k

Dialogue Prompt: “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

TW: Stalking, kidnapping, drugging, manipulation, crying (from Shigaraki, not you) and a very guilty reader. Shigaraki is gonna be pretty hardcore yandere in this one.

Also, for the sake of the fic, reader has a quirk that makes them immune to everyone else’s quirks.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

You flopped down onto your couch, letting exhaustion take over your body. Work was hard today, and you had many obnoxiously stubborn customers. You heard a knock on your door all of a sudden. You let out a loud grumble as you trudged to the door and flung it open with a dry,“What.”

“Do you mind if I come in? Something told me that you had a rough day at work.” Shigaraki’s anxious smile made you feel a little better, you apologized for your rude demeanor and welcomed him inside. What you didn’t know is that he’d been following you all day, lurking just far enough behind that you wouldn’t suspect him. He saw the rude customers, and it took all of his strength not to dust them on the spot. He watched the rain pour down on you and had to stop himself from bringing you an umbrella or at least covering you with his jacket.

Shigaraki liked to consider himself a committed boyfriend. He was so committed, in fact, that he was ready for you to move in. The only problem was getting you there.

“Can I fix you something to drink?” He dragged you back to the couch, sitting you with a pillow behind your back.

“A glass of water would be wonderful.” He had only been inside your house twice before, but it was strange that he knew exactly where the glasses were. He pulled one down and fixed you a glass of water, and you could swear you saw him mix something into your drink, but your mind was so foggy you had no idea what was going on.

“Here, love. Drink up.” Parched, you took a gulp from the glass, tasting a bitterness that usually wouldn’t come with water.

“What’s in this?”

“Nothing my love, just relax and drink your water.” You trusted him; wrong choice. You finished off your water and set the glass on the table, too far from consciousness to hear it fall and shatter. The last thing you saw before you went completely unconscious was Shigaraki’s face inches away from yours.

When you woke up, you were seated in a chair with your arms bound behind your back in a room you didn’t recognize. There were posters all over with various games you recognized, a messy, dull colored bed, and finally, a window. You struggled with the ropes as silently as possible before you saw the face of your boyfriend.

“You’re finally awake! Welcome to your new home, my love.” His face contorted into a weird, overjoyed smile, something much more frightening than the Shigaraki you were used to.

“How… When- What’s going on?” You were utterly confused.

“You’re moving in with me!”

You looked absolutely mortified. You hadn’t exactly known Shigaraki for more than 6 months, and while you would have moved in with him if he asked you, this was not the case. He drugged you and dragged you away to what… seemed like his home? And then had the audacity to tell you that you were moving in with him. You heard him mutter something about being able to protect you here, being able to watch you easier. He brought a hand up to his neck to absent-mindedly scratch, before turning to the door. “Stay right here, I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he was out of sight, you worked the knots out of the rope binding your wrists, and made a break for the nearest escape. He might have been a creepy, twisted psycho, but he could not tie a knot to save his life. By some luck, he had left the window unlocked, so you pushed it up as quietly as you could and slipped right out, leaving it open behind you.

You tried not to stick around after, but the guilt was killing you. You stood just outside the window, listening when the door opened. You heard quiet footsteps, before you heard Shigaraki’s voice. “Here I brought you some…” he trailed off, seeing the rope on the floor. You heard something clatter to the floor, and then the sound of nails scratching skin, deep enough to draw blood.

You heard him muttering something to himself, getting louder and louder, sniffling and holding back sobs. He was like a lost child, cursing and crying and searching for his comfort item, but you were nowhere to be seen.

“W-why do… do you have t-to be so… so stubborn,” he hiccuped, sobbing loudly. “I th-thought I final- finally found someone, who actually… wanted me. L-loved me. I guess I r-really am just… just worthless.” He walked over and shut the window quickly, unknowing that you were just outside, listening to everything.

You felt even more guilty than before, you hurt him really bad. And it’s not like you wouldn’t have moved in if he asked you… You decided against your better judgement that you had to go back inside to him. You tapped on the window carefully. His demeanor completely changed when he saw you there. He opened the window helping you back inside.

“My love! I th-thought you didn’t want me anymore,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes and nestling into you, still crying a little. There were fresh cuts on his neck where he scratched a little too hard. He pulled you to him, hugging you tightly. It felt nice to be close to you again, someone he couldn’t hurt.

“Shigaraki, I need you to listen for a second,” you pulled him away from you so he could really hear you. “If I’m going to stay here with you, there are a few things I need from you. I don’t want to be a prisoner, I want to be free to go wherever I want. I don’t want to be cooped up inside this room all the time. And I don’t want you doing anything like you did last night, if you drug me again, I’m out of here faster than I was the first time, okay? Can you let me have these few things?”

He was lost in thought for a second, considering everything you told him just now. He could let you leave, you did have a job after all, and he could be there like he was before, just watching from the shadows. And he never wanted to drug you anyways, he just thought it was his only option at the time. “Of course I can, my love. I’m so glad you’re still here with me.” He wrapped his arms around you again, lightly kissing your cheek, and burying his head in your neck. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Shigaraki.”

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Honestly, this is not at all where I was taking this fic to begin with, but angst to fluff is one of my favorite things, and I actually cried writing this because while, yes in this fic he is a yandere, I genuinely felt bad for him.

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ouyangzizhensdad · 4 years ago

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Do you think LWJ took the advantage of being a Young Master of a prominent clan to publicly display the people he hates? (We know who that is) I saw someone claim about it and It's haunting my head.

Hi anon,

I’ll start first by saying that I think the novel does, to a degree, understand that there are people who have, to use Bourdieu’s terms, forms of ‘capitals’ that others do not and integrate that into the narrative and character dynamics. LWJ has not only capital due to his position as a gongzi and the son of a Leader (then later, as heir-in-line) to one of the prominent clans, but also due to his stellar reputation and fighting abilities (and to a degree, the fact he is a man). All this allows him to have a wider range of actions that are considered ‘acceptable/legitimate’ versus another person with different or lesser forms of capital--think for instance of the reaction and consequences when LWJ challenges what powerful men are saying (making up) about WWX versus when daughter-of-a-servant MianMian does the same. However, I find it weird to frame that as LWJ “getting away” with something--with his character, it’s more like he is able to have an opinion or stand up against injustices with less chances of getting punished and ridiculed for it.

Now, if it is about Jiang Cheng, it is kind of a myopic argument to be saying that LWJ “gets away” with “publicly hating JC”. First because by that point JC is technically even higher in the social hierarchy, being a literal Sect Leader. But it’s also weird to phrase this as “publicly hating JC”: LWJ is not running around badmouthing JC or the Jiang sect--the pettiest we see him is when he doesn’t silence LJY when he engages in gossip about JC. Instead we see LWJ standing up against JC when the situation calls for it, which is not the same. Of course, as JC does, it can be considered as an inherent ‘insult’ since it makes JC ‘lose face’ but I think there is a difference. And it’s not like JC does not get away with being impolite towards LWJ and the Lan sect, something we see at Dafan Mountain.

We know with the MXY altercation that JC was ready to kill him on sight for using modao (”Do you have any last words?”/“Break his legs? Haven’t I told you? If you see this sort of evil and crooked practice, kill the cultivator and feed him to your dogs!”). After LWJ intercepts, we have this exchange showing JC being impolite to a degree that prompts LJY to call him out for it, only bringing more disrespect for the Lans from JC:

He raised one brow and spoke, “Hanguang-Jun, you sure live up to your reputation of ‘being wherever the chaos is’. So, you had time to come to this remote area today?” [..] Right now, Jiang Cheng really didn’t seem too polite as he said the words in such a tone. Even the juniors who came following Lan Wangji did not seem comfortable hearing it.

Lan Jingyi spoke straightforwardly, “Isn’t Jiang-zongzhu here as well?”

Jiang Cheng replied grimly, “Tsk, do you really think that you should butt in when your seniors are conversing? The GusuLan Sect has always been known for its respectful conduct. Is this really how it teaches its disciples?”

It is imo more true to say that, due to LWJ’s higher and respected position in society, JC is not able to use his usual means of responding to someone challenging his decisions and thus making him lose face.This is again something we see during this altercation.

LWJ silences JL after he dismisses his mistreatment of other cultivators with the deity-binding nets. LWJ destroys the entirety of the diety-binding nets JC and JL were using to give JL an advantage over the other cultivators competing, something they were only able to do because of the Jiang and Jin sects considerable power and wealth. Is it daring of LWJ? Sure. Would he be able to do so without consequences if he was someone else? Probably unlikely, especially when we’re talking about JC. But is that ‘getting away’ with something? It’s literally the opposite scenario: LWJ is using his own status and capital to make it so that JL (and JC) are not getting away with what they are doing (although there are, in actuality, no consequences for their behaviours; they are just forced to give up on JL’s unfair advantages. Hell, LWJ even offers to pay for the nets he destroys, which I guess can also be taken as a baller move). What’s more, the novel even takes the time to point out that, if LWJ were not such a strong cultivator, JC might have pushed aside the risks of offending LXC and physically confronted him (let’s appreciate how this also serves as well-integrated exposition for their weapons).

Jin Ling’s grim expression was exactly the same as his uncle’s, “What can I do? It was their own fault for stepping into the traps. I’ll solve everything after I finish capturing the prey.”

Lan Wangji frowned. Jin Ling was about to speak again, but he suddenly realized that, shockingly, he could neither open his mouth nor make any sounds.

[...]

The man spoke in a low voice, “Not long ago, a blue sword flew over and destroyed the deity-binding nets that you had set up.”

Jiang Cheng glanced at Lan Wangji harshly, his displease plastered all over his face, “How many were broken?”

[...]

Although four hundred deity-binding nets were a whopping price, it wasn’t too much for the YunmengJiang Sect. Nonetheless, losing the nets were a small matter, but losing face was not. With Lan Wangji’s actions, Jiang Cheng felt a whirlpool of anger at the bottom of his heart, rising higher by every second. He narrowed his eyes, his left hand casually stroking the ring on his right hand’s index finger.

[...]

However, after stroking it for a while, Jiang Cheng compelled himself to restrain his hostility.

Although he was displeased, as the leader of a sect, he needed to take more things into consideration, which meant that he couldn’t be as impulsive as Jin Ling. After the fall of the QingheNie Sect, among the Three Great Sects, the LanlingJin Sect and the GusuLan Sect were quite close due to the personal relationship between the two leaders. By leading the YunmengJiang Sect alone, he was already in an isolated situation among the three. Hanguang-Jun, or Lan Wangji, was quite a prestigious cultivator, while his elder brother Zewu-Jun, or Lan Xichen, was the leader of the GusuLan Sect. The two brothers had always been on good terms with each other. It was best to not openly dispute with Lan Wangji.

Also, Jiang Cheng’s sword, “Sandu (三毒, Sāndú),” had never made actual contact with Lan Wangji’s sword, “Bichen,” and it was not yet decidable whose hands would the deer die on. Although he owned the powerful ring, “Zidian (紫电 Zǐdiàn),” a family heirloom of his, Lan Wangji’s guqin, “Wangji”, was also known for its abilities. The thing that Jiang Cheng hated the most was to be disadvantageous during a fight. Without complete confidence in his success, he would not consider fighting with Lan Wangji.

Now if it is about Su She, again what does LWJ truly do?

He silences him in the Demon-slaughtering cave? Although we’d be hard-pressed to believe LWJ respects Su She after what he’s seen him do in the Xuanwu Cave, the guy is literally trying to get everyone there killed and being a smartass to WWX while at it. And if it had been extremely disrespectful of him, LQR could have lifted the spell--something once again that the novel points out. When it dissolves into a game of calling out between the MolingSu sect and the GusuLan sect, LWJ does not say anything, even if, as LJY points out, Su She was imitating him. It’s only when WWX starts going that LWJ takes part by acquiescing to the truths WWX lays out (which are, yes, damning for the Su She and the MolingSu sect). But again, there are layers to what WWX is doing: he’s not only trying to expose what is going on, but anger Su She into revealing he still has his spiritual powers as proof of what he has worked out. So while WWX and LWJ are being by some measures disrespectful, there is a point to how they are going at it.

Touching his chin, he grinned, “Well I was worried that you’d get mad if I asked him too many things in front of you, wasn’t I? But since you’ve told me to ask him already, I’ll go ahead and ask. Lan Zhan?”

Lan Wangji, “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian, “The MolingSu Sect was a sect that branched off from the GusuLan Sect, right?”

Lan Wangji, “Mn.”

Wei Wuxian, “Although it branched off, the MolingSu Sect’s techniques still used the GusuLan Sect’s techniques ‘as reference’, right?”

Lan Wangji, “Yes.”

Wei Wuxian, “One of the GusuLan Sect’s techniques, the Sound of Vanquish, has the effect of exorcising evil. Amongst them, the seven-stringed guqin was the most powerful, and so there is the greatest number of people who cultivate through the guqin. The MolingSu Sect did the same, and the guqin is the most common in their sect as well, is that correct?”

Lan Wangji, “That is correct.”

Wei Wuxian, “Although the MolingSu Sect’s leader left the GusuLan Sect with knowledge of its techniques when he founded his own sect, is own guqin skills weren’t anything special, and the disciples he taught often make many mistakes too, right?”

Lan Wangji answered with honesty, “Yes.”

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji went on back and forth, speaking as though nobody was around. More and more people realized that they weren’t only mocking Su She, but rather taking something apart. Thus, they began to listen more carefully.

Next, Wei Wuxian slowed down, “… And that means, even when a section of the battle melodies that the MolingSu Sect played when killing corpses on Mass Grave Hill was wrong, the GusuLan Sect wouldn’t find it unusual, and only think that they made a mistake because of their inferior techniques and remembered the sheet music wrong, not taking the time to notice whether it was an accidental mistake or a mistake on purpose. Is this the case?”

Hearing the last question, Su She’s pupils shrunk. The hand he placed on the hilt of his sword was suddenly lined with veins. The blade of the sword was already half-an-inch unsheathed. On the other hand, Lan Wangji lifted his eyes at the same time. Both Wei Wuxian and he saw the sense of understanding in each other’s eyes.

He stated one word at a time, “This is the case.”

Su She unsheathed his sword with a clang. Wei Wuxian moved the blade of the sword to the side with two fingers and smiled, “What are you doing? Don’t forget. You’ve lost all your spiritual powers. Would threatening me like this do anything?”

Sword raised in his hand, Su She could neither attack nor put it down. He clenched his teeth, “Aiming at me for so long—just what are you trying to imply?”

As much as we love to talk about LWJ’s hidden sass and pettiness, he does not seem to ever be disrespectful without a reason, and it’s usually in the process of standing up for others. Reading his character as an illustration of a man in a position of privilege and power getting away with things is a little bit of a reach--particularly when JC is literally right there.

#mdzs meta #lwj #jc #mdzs

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honestgrins · 4 years ago

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Can you write a Klaroline drabble where Caroline shows up in NOLA and shocks everyone but maybe Kol or Katherine when she says she's Klaus's wife? Cannon Caroline not original.

I Heard a Rumor

The club was filled with people and the chaos of a Friday night. Klaus preferred to avoid the rush of tourists, but Marcel kept the VIP lounge to a more tolerable set even during peak hours - usually.

“Don’t you just love this place?” Janet was hanging over the balcony to watch the crowds below, none too subtly pushing her ass back toward him. As one of the humans on staff to provide a live blood source, she was perfectly amiable to Klaus. He’d even become something of a regular customer for her given his penchant for the tinge of bourbon in her taste. However, it seemed she took the friendly flirtation of their transactions to heart, and she was testing his patience for more.

Unfortunately for her, his patience was wearing thin. With a barely polite grimace, he downed the rest of his drink and made to stand. “It’s a bit rowdier than I like, love, so—”

She gave a rapturous giggle, only to fall into his lap and sprawl across him. “I like that you call me ‘love,’” she murmured, her mouth clumsy against his ear. “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll show you how much I like it.”

Rolling his eyes, Klaus was ready to speed out of there without bothering to set her back on her feet. The only thing that kept him in his crowded seat was the biting and all too familiar voice coming from behind him.

“Sorry, love, he won’t be available to accept whatever appreciation you have in mind.”

Both surprised — though for very different reasons — they turned to see Caroline Forbes facing them with a pageant-ready smile and murder in her eyes. She was stunning. Klaus couldn’t help a grin despite his earlier annoyance, and his brow arched in challenge. “Hello, sweetheart. Fancy meeting you here.”

Her jaw shifted almost imperceptibly to the left, but his companion didn’t seem to sense the rising tension as a threat. “Who the hell are you?”

Just like that, Caroline’s smile turned sharp with her fangs on full display. “I’m his wife, and you’re in my seat.”

The club was home to any number of vampires who heard her perfectly over the music, and more than a few froze at the sudden silence coming from him. The Klaus Mikaelson they knew would have reacted instantly, either with murder or some other violence, and they all seemed to wait for the ensuing mayhem. Even Janet finally grasped the discomfort of the moment, and she extricated herself from his lap with all the delicacy a human could manage. “I’ll just— Yeah, bye.”

Whatever show the club was waiting for, Klaus had more pressing concerns. “Shall we continue this interesting discussion at home?” he asked, though they both knew it wasn’t a question. Gently gripping Caroline’s arm, he flashed them back to the manor. He heard Kol and Rebekah meandering somewhere, and Elijah was likely on the premises as well. With that in mind, he brought her to the privacy of his studio and its soundproofing spell. Wisely, she waited until the door was shut to yank her arm free with a disgruntled huff. He merely smiled as he went to pour them some blooded wine. “That was quite the display you gave, sweetheart,” he said lightly, handing her a glass. “I have to admit: I didn’t see it coming.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped, setting aside the drink without indulging. His lips pursed; it was an excellent vintage, yet he was more perturbed at her outright refusal of his hospitality. Perhaps this wasn’t their usual spat to be easily resolved. Proving just that, she seemed truly distraught. “You promised to leave Mystic Falls, that my life was my own.”

“It is. I haven’t stepped foot in Virginia since that day.” Brow furrowed, Klaus felt an urgent need to reassure her. “I understand you need time to accept what I’m offering, and I am prepared to wait however long it takes. What on earth made you believe I’m encroaching on that promise?”

Last he heard, she wasn’t even in the States. They did chat by phone every so often, and when she’d mentioned a tour abroad, he had offered a list of his various estates that would be available to her should she wish. It was the caretaker of his dacha outside of Moscow who alerted him to her softening boundaries. He certainly had no intention of making her regret the change, let alone whatever caused this latest upset.

Watching him with suspicion, Caroline apparently wasn’t sure of his intentions at all. “Seriously? It wasn’t bad enough I ran into the stalkers you have ‘looking out for me’ in every city, but the one time I take you up on borrowing a place, you have the staff literally bowing to me. I wrote it off as a cultural thing at first, then I heard the whispers.”

“Though I refute your accusations of stalking, I will admit to warning some friends and enemies you are not to be trifled with in your travels. As for Dmitri, I merely asked him to welcome you as an honored guest, which you are.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms in defiance. “Yeah, well, he wasn’t welcoming me as an honored guest. I overheard him chatting with his wife about meeting ‘the new mistress of the house.’”

Klaus shrugged, unconcerned. Satisfied the situation wasn’t more dire, he allowed himself to relax on his sofa, daring to pat the spot next to him. Caroline remained unmoved, and he rolled his eyes. “Perhaps the nature of your significance was lost in translation. You’re the one who came to my town and introduced yourself as my wife.”

“Because half of Russia thinks I am your wife!” With an indignant stamp of her foot, she seemed ready to tear her hair out — but she frowned more sedately at the blankness on his face. “You didn’t know?”

Shaking his head, he honestly had no idea. “What happened, Caroline?”

Finally taking her drink, she dropped to the couch beside him with an embarrassed groan. “I stepped into exactly one vampire club, and people practically threw themselves out of my path. I assumed it was more of the same from you, until the guy I was flirting with was suddenly yanked away by a friend. He went white when he was told my husband would tear out his intestines and shove them down his throat.”

“A bit uncreative, that.”

“Klaus!”

“I don’t know,” he insisted, his frustration growing to match hers. Rubbing a hand across his mouth, he genuinely had no idea why anyone would think him married. Though he had many hopes and plans involving Caroline in his future, matrimony was a human tradition he’d never once considered. “Truly, this didn’t come from me.”

Sighing, she leaned back into the couch and nursed her wine, defeated. “Oh. Then, sorry for cockblocking, I guess.”

Klaus smirked at that, and he turned to face her more fully. “Are you really?” The lightest blush stained her cheeks, and he knew she was biting her tongue at the faint scent of her blood. Unable to resist, he reached his hand to rest on the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing into her hair. “New Orleans is a small town at heart, love, and you effectively announced yourself as my wife in the middle of town square.”

“To be fair, I thought you had told the whole world, and I wasn’t going to be the only one not getting laid because of it.”

“Ah.” He was torn between a wince and a laugh, so he settled for another sip of his drink instead. His other hand continued to massage her scalp, and he felt the tension slowly loosening within her. “I never meant to restrict your choices,” he promised. “Tempt you into choosing me, absolutely, but not like this.”

Finally, she relaxed into him, slouching until he could tuck her against his side. Some doubt lingered, though, he could tell. Perhaps it was a sign of growth on both their parts that he didn’t take offense and that she trusted him enough be honest. “But who else would want to spread a rumor like that about us? It’s not like anyone benefits if we really did do the Vegas wedding thing.”

His mouth twitched, and he flashed to the door, barely sparing a brief kiss to the top of her head. He tore it open, only for her to slam it shut again. Pressing her back to the wood, she kept a heavy glare on him. “Put those away, we both know you’re not going to bite me.”

With a reluctant growl, he forced his fangs to recede. “It’s not your blood I want at the moment, and it’s certainly not pleasure I seek.”

“Yeah, ‘cause revenge isn’t a pleasure for you,” she answered snidely. “Tell me what’s going on before you kill the blabbermouth.”

“This is something I have to do myself, sweetheart.”

“Hi, I might want to help! They screwed with both of us here, not just you.”

A half-smile formed without permission, the fondness he felt for her softer than he was comfortable acknowledging at the moment — especially when someone had proven all too willing to use their connection against him. “Few in New Orleans know about you, let alone your...effect on me. Only two would maliciously speak out of turn about that. And just one of those would dare to bind you to me forever, lest I be challenged to follow through.”

Her face was an open book to him, and he hoped she never lost that human nature to share every feeling she had as it happened. Confusion, calculation, consternation, they all boiled down to an annoyed scrunch of her nose. “Your family knows I exist, at least, I think so. I never actually met Elijah, but you two seem to have gotten over whatever grudge match was going on at home.” He gave a brief nod, fascinated at the determined way she thought it through. “I also doubt you told him about your fling with a baby vampire. Kol and Rebekah, on the other hand, probably didn’t need to be told.”

“Bekah still likes to complain that we defiled the entire wood within earshot,” he muttered, not that he could be particularly aggrieved at the memory of a sunny afternoon. “And you are no mere fling, Caroline.”

That lovely blush rose again, and she looked anywhere but at him as he crowded her against the door. Gently brushing the curtain of her hair back from her face, Klaus waited for her to gather herself. After a deep breath, she finally met him with a half-hearted glare. “Which Rebekah loathes, so she’s definitely not daring you to marry me by telling everyone else you already have.”

Silently agreeing, he hadn’t lowered his hand from where it settled on her cheek, and a thrill came when she leaned into it. “Kol, however, enjoys sowing chaos wherever he goes.”

“Yeah,” she groaned. “That sounds on brand, and I played right into it with this stupid payback stunt.”

“We always did share a flair for the dramatic.”

The laugh built in her throat before it burst out, filling the air between them until they were both smiling like fools. Her hands had curled into his shirt, one at his hip and the other over his heart. The slight tug of fabric was tempting, but he still kept his tentative distance. “I promised you time, and I meant it.”

Biting her lip, Caroline nodded. She didn’t let go of his shirt, either. “Does it have be all or nothing right now?” It was half a whisper, the barest hint of whine in her voice endearing. “Because you smell really good and it’s been a long time thanks to your stupid brother, and I might have missed you more than I realized, so can you just kiss me alrea—”

There would be consequences from the rumors of their marriage, and more than just those Kol would face. Caroline would be a target, either for those seeking Klaus’s favor or those out to destroy him. Her presence or absence from his daily life would be a noted occurrence, and more rumors would arise should they be seen with others instead. New pressures would exert force on the evolution of their relationship, something he had measured in decades and centuries without such attention. But they could deal with those consequences in time, together.

Later.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #to rely on the kindness of strangers #anon anon #fic: i heard a rumor

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caker-baker · 4 years ago

Note

ahh I loved 'If there was a crown' If you have time would you please consider writing a continuation? because it was amazinggg

The hero hated princes. Princes were annoying, vain, arrogant, and so very cocky, according to the hero.

The prince, on the other hand, didn’t so much mind bakers. Bakers were fun, scare-able.

At first, the prince was everso delighted when learning of the hero’s identity, his plot being decided in all of two minutes.

Then the baker-hero was there, and they were so different than the prince imagined. He always thought they would be strong, with or without the costume, but this baker was barely quelling their nerves.

And to hear them call the prince by his title gave him relief to no end. But it felt oddly wrong.

To see the fear dawn on the baker’s face - fear the prince had never seen in their fights - it was all too perfect, and all too short lived.

Next was the taunting, something the hero had always been able to participate in, and with the repartee being one sided, the prince was filled with glee.

Until he wasn’t

He was frustrated, he thought he would be happy. As a prince, he could have anything except the hero, and now that he had them, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, still.

The prince noticed the hero’s harsh concentration whenever he neared, their head working on ways to escape.

He was a diplomat, the prince. He was taking over the kingdom, he was raised to know what people were thinking.

“Pesky little hero, it’s no use.”

“What?” The hero snapped, still mid thought.

In response, the prince smiled, and tilted his head to the side. “Would it be fair to assume you have never been in such a situation?”

“Take your best guess, my prince.” The hero’s tone was anything but formal, but that didn’t stop the delighted feeling flowing throughout the prince.

“Such malice, baker.” His words were equally as venomous. “For someone in such a bind, I would think one to be kinder.”

“I would think I still have my dignity.”

“And shaking hands.”

The hero fell silent.

Sly eyes found their way to the crown in the corner of the cell. While it was hard to break, the hero certainly did try, the crown now dirtied and somehow slightly dented.

The prince didn’t know they had that sort of strength.

“I did mainly come to drop this off.” A tray of food rattled on the lone desk. “But it seems you are in dire need of company, what, with taking out your solitude on my most prized possession.”

“You shouldn’t give nice things to pesky heroes.” The hero bit back, the chains on their wrist becoming uncomfortably heavy.

“I told you, I would make an exception for you.”

Silence reigned for a brief moment.

“I could strangle you.” The hero said, voice soft and hands trembling. “If you just got close enough, these chains are more than enough, I could-”

“Then do it.” The prince stepped closer. “I won’t try to stop you. I will even assist you.” He turned around, back towards the hero. “I’m close enough, unsuspecting, a prime opportunity if any.”

Nothing happened. The hero didn’t move, the prince didn’t move, and the world came to a standstill.

“Or,” the prince spoke, still turned around. “Is this not how you would like me? Would you prefer I go to war for you? Some neighboring territories would be rather easy to take, if only in your name.”

The hero actually stepped back. “What is this?”

“Compliance. I’m being a kindly host.”

“A host?” The hero repeated. “This is a game to you?” Their face had twisted into a snarl, but no move was made against the villain. “Tormenting one while killing others?”

The prince whipped around. “What makes you think I’m practicing villainy again?”

“There was never a choice, was there?” A stark laugh came from the hero. “That’s why you’re the only one down here, isn’t it? Everyone else thinks I’m long gone. Besides, are your plans for the kingdom finished?”

Oh, this amused the prince greatly.

“Clever and pesky.” He muttered. “An awful combination.”

Despite their nerves, the hero managed to stare the prince in the eye.

“Won’t your guard be suspicious?” The hero asked. “The king?”

Pure anger flashed on the prince’s face. “That man is of no-” he remembered himself, the anger dissolving before a neutral expression took hold. “You should eat. I’ll know if you don’t.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I hope you don’t value that bakery all too much.”

When the prince had gone, the hero let themselves come undone, trembling in a pile of fear.

No other threats were made past that one fateful day, on either end.

It became a routine, of sorts. The hero would try to find a way out, and the prince would sit back, amused.

Once, the prince stormed in, wrinkled papers clutched in hand.

“I’m working in here.” He announced, making use of the desk oh so generously supplied to the hero.

The hero had to wonder if that was the purpose of it, more for the prince than them.

“I thought you had no power.” The hero mumbled folding something from ripped book pages.

“I still have responsibilities, something I suppose doesn’t affect you anymore.”

The hero nearly crushed their paper creation. “My responsibilities were ripped away from me if you deign to remember!”

The prince waved them off, scribbling something with their other hand.

There was no way of knowing how much time had passed for the hero, it was only when the prince sighed and leaned back did they realize time had passed at all.

“What are you making?”

“A child’s toy. Most every child in the kingdom can paper-fold.” The hero snorted. “Probably not royal ones.”

The prince stood tall over the hero, eyes landing on the expert foldings. “A paper crown. How ironic when a real one stays in the corner.”

“How ironic you keep coming here.” The hero set the paper crown aside, their hands clutched together.

They were refusing to look at the prince.

“Pesky little hero, your silence is suffocating.”

“What were you working on?” The hero said, still not looking at the prince, though they could see him in their side view.

“Are you truly interested?” The prince asked. “Or is this you trying to find information to use against me?”

“What does it matter to you? Any information I get will rot away with me. It’s ‘no use’, isn’t it?”

Clever and pesky indeed.

“If you must know, you pesky thing, I’ve been trying to worm my way out of a potential marriage.”

The hero’s head snapped up, only to find the prince already looking at them, smiling widely. “There you are. A possible wedding is what it takes for you to look at me?”

“So you won’t be getting married?” They made to look down again, but the prince snaked out a hand, grabbing the hero’s chin.

“You would make a pretty royal.” He said appreciatively, turning the hero’s head with his hand. “Especially done up for a royal portrait.”

“So you’ve said.” The hero tried to yank away, but the prince held fast.

“We,” he began, “are created to be perfect. I was created to be perfect. There’s something so fascinating with everyday people still being beautiful.”

The hero’s lip curled. “My appearances are not for you to marvel at!”

“My, my.” The prince dropped his hand. “Where do these little bursts of defiance come from? It feels as if I am truly talking to Hero, and not some baker. By the by, what do you call a baker without a bakery?”

“Go to hell.”

“At some point.”

The hero suddenly regretted their words, their bakery floating to the top of their mind.

“That’s not a concentrating face.”

They hated him, for being a prince, for figuring out their identity, for having power, even if he didn’t realize it. But most of all, they hated he could hold their bakery over their head.

“And that’s resolve. What, I wonder, is going through your head?”

The hero’s eyes dropped, their hands reaching to tear more book pages, and at this, the prince sighed.

“Fine then, I’ll leave you to your folding.”

“What do you care?” The hero asked, already making a crease in the words. “Are you just having your fun before you decide to kill me?”

“No.” The prince spoke quickly. “No. I am having fun, but you will not be dying. Not here. Not by my hand.”

“Then it is just simple then.”

“What is?”

The hero looked up. “You are a cruel bastard.”

There was no response, just a long and cold stare, then once again, the hero was alone. They were alone, and now had a plan.

The prince had mentioned it earlier, but the hero didn’t believe him, they thought he was still going to kill them. However, the quick desperation of his tone made the hero rethink otherwise.

The prince didn’t want them dead, did he? What were the chances of getting out if the prince thought they were close to death?

This was a flimsy plan, especially in that there was no telling when it would happen. The hero would have to make it look like something had happened, but the prince would have to be there to witness it.

So, the hero had to listen, and carefully.

Any sign of steps, and they would move. First, to the bed, where they would grab the blankets and pull them down, trying to make it look as if they had clutched onto something before falling.

Next was the positioning. The hero wasn’t sure about this, the chains being a bit inhibiting, but hopefully, if this all went as planned, the chains would be coming off.

Finally came the hard part, acting. They had never needed to pretend to be passed out, they had never had to force themself to be calm like this. It was already difficult for them to even their breathing while in a state of nerves, but to play at vulnerability while making their lungs steady was difficult to say the least.

So, it all came down to keeping their nerve, and timing. It would work fine, they were sure of it, despite how hard their heart was hammering in their chest. This had to work fine.

Listening was difficult, singling out one specific sound among dozens of others, especially to the untrained ear. Once or twice, the hero had prepared, positioning themselves with the blankets in hand, only to realize it was an echo of a sound.

Knowing what time it was would make it easier, the prince delivering meals himself at a specific time was otherwise useless information.

They couldn’t be sure how long they listened, only that they were suddenly on the floor, the sound of regal boots getting closer.

The creaking door opened, and the hero had to stop themselves from shaking. They had to do this right, it had to work.

The prince cursed, something dropping onto the ground.

Then there was the sudden closeness, the prince mere inches from the hero’s face, who could feel their muscles tensing.

Two fingers were on the hero’s neck, who almost cried having to keep still while the prince checked their pulse.

A rattling sound, then the weight on the hero’s wrists dropped. They had to stop themselves from flinching away, from running right then and there. They had to make themselves be dead weight when strong hands lifted them.

Breathe even.

Dead weight.

Don’t let your eyelids move.

Breathe.

The steps the prince took were large, frantic. He was in a hurry to wherever he planned on taking the hero now.

And once the hero was sure, absolutely positive they were at least past the bars of the cell, at least far away from the manacles, and at least in an open space, they struck.

A fist flew to the prince’s jaw, his hold on the hero weakening. They hero leapt from his arms, rolling back onto their feet.

“And there’s that acrobatic hero I know and love.” The prince chuckled, rubbing his bruising face.

There was no time for the hero to play into what was surely his attempt at stalling. They could either incapacitate him now, or run and hope to find the quickest way out.

A prince knocked out in his own home might raise questions the hero couldn’t afford to answer.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid to fight?” The prince baited.

It almost worked. Almost.

The hero, fists clenched, turned and ran. Maybe this wasn’t the brightest of plans, but none of the options were the best.

“I happened to have grown up in this place.” The prince said, leaning against a corridor wall the hero had just turned onto.

They immediately turned around again.

“Pesky hero.” They heard the prince tut, footsteps once again fading away.

A door, it was all they needed, a window is what they got.

They didn’t hesitate, smashing their elbow against the glass, cracks beginning to form. This was done again and again, until the window had shattered completely.

The hero peered down, looking at the two story height.

Considering the prince had taken them from seemingly below ground to upper levels of the palace, the height made sense.

And the height worked. The hero had done much more from much higher places. This would be easy, it might still hurt, but it would work.

The hero stepped up, their back facing outside, a slowly setting sun bathing them in light.

“Hero.” A voice said, cold and commanding. It was a voice future kings should learn.

“Your highness.”

“You don’t know what you would happen if you made a reappearance as Hero. You don’t know what would happen if you left.” The prince took a step forward, fully aware of the hero watching him. “As it turns out, I’m not the only royal who dislikes heroes.”

“Is that all?”

The prince cautioned two more steps. “I don’t think you quite realize what I have afforded you.”

After prince’s taunts, his fun, it felt good to see his discomfort, even if vengefulness wasn’t the hero’s style.

“I’m sure I don’t.”

Three more steps. “And I don’t know what stunt you are trying to pull here, but-”

“Not a stunt.” The hero interrupted. “I’m just leaving.”

It had gone right, this plan, and it felt fantastic, they felt calm for the first time in a while. They felt a lot that they hadn’t felt in a while.

“I think we could discuss this civilly, don’t you?” One more step, and he was in arms length of the hero.

“I think you’re wrong.”

The prince lunged, but the hero was quick enough, pushing him back as momentum for the fall.

If he wasn’t aware of the hero’s skilled ability in any and all things acrobatic, he would’ve been worried for their safety, but instead, he had a million other things to worry about, namely, how to get them back without making a fuss.

The prince chanced a glance out the broken window, but the hero had already faded away, disappearing with the prince’s dignity.

The worst and most daunting of it all was that the hero had managed to snag the prince’s brooch on their way down.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #captive hero #hero #villain #heroine #heroes #villains #prince villain #sorry #so sorry #request #part two #if there was a crown #villains and heroes #heroes and villains

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angstysebfan · 4 years ago

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Heyy!! Ok so could I please request something where Bucky and pregnant reader are about to get married. He and the guests are all waiting for her to walk down the aisle but after a little while she still hasn't shown up and it turns out she's nowhere to be seen. Bucky thinks she's left him and is all sad. After a while the others find out she's been kidnapped by Hydra because they want the baby. Cue avenger vs hydra scenes and after finding her she goes into early labour and it's all touch-and-go for her and baby but in the end it's a happy ending (maybe the next request I'll work up the courage for an angsty ending 🙈).

Oh I love this! Hope you like it @lookiamtrying!!

Wedding Day

Bucky looks in the mirror one last time, looking over to make sure he looks alright. Today is a day he has been waiting for for over 70 years. Today is the day that the love of his life, finally becomes his forever. When you got pregnant 4 months ago, Bucky didn’t think you would want to continue with plans for the wedding, but you told him nothing was going to stop you from being his wife.

Now being 7 months pregnant, you both decided to make the wedding an intimate gathering of your closest friends and family, which basically is the Avengers, T’Challa and Suri, the Gardians, and Dr. Strange. You both thought it was the perfect amount of people and didn’t need anyone else involved. You both thought the backyard of your new house was the perfect spot for the wedding as well. You have been so excited!

There is a knock on the door, pulling Bucky from his thoughts. Steve walks in with a smile, “You ready pal?” he asks. “More than ready! I just want her to be my wife already!” Bucky says with a laugh as they head out of the door. Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder to stop him from walking further, “I’m so happy for you Buck. You deserve this and more, and I am so proud to stand beside you both as you do this. I also can’t wait for y God child to be born,” he says. Bucky pulls him in for a quick hug and heads out to the backyard.

You both haven’t moved into the house yet, as it is under construction (Only best from Tony), but you thought the backyard was perfect. You have the chairs set and fairy lights all around, with a white tent behind the ceremony area for the reception. Bucky looks in awe at his surroundings, which make him that much more excited. He walks up in front of his friends and family and looks down the aisle, waiting for you to come to him.

He starts to get jittery as he waits, thinking maybe you were having some difficulty with your pregnant belly. After close to 30 minutes he starts to get nervous that you changed your mind. He decides to head back into the house to where you are supposed to be getting ready. When he opens the door, he sees the room is completely empty. His heart immediately breaks at the thought that you changed your mind.

Steve runs up behind Bucky and looks in the room, “She’s not here?” he asks. Bucky shakes his head sadly as tears rush to his eyes. “I guess she changed her mind,” he says and he slides down the wall to the floor. “I can’t believe Y/N would do that. I mean she is pregnant with your child,” Steve says. Bucky covers his face as tears start to flow down his cheeks. He doesn’t want to believe it either, but you’re not here.

Just then Natasha comes toward them and looks into the room. “I can’t believe she would do this. She was so excited last night! Let me call the driver,” she says pulling out her cell phone. After a brief conversation with the limo company, Natasha learned that the driver is not an employee. She tells this to Steve who immediately pales. You didn’t run out on Bucky, you were taken.

You wake up on a metal cot, handcuffed to the post. You look around and realize that you are in a cell underground. You try and control your panic, as you don’t want to risk anything with your unborn baby, but you are terrified. Suddenly the metal door opens and in walks a man in a black uniform, HYDRA. “Ah, you are finally awake,” he says.

“What to you want?” you ask. “If you think I’m going to let you get Bucky, you have another thing coming!” you scream in anger. The man looks at you and laughs, “First of all, you really think you are tough chained to a bed? Second, it’s not the Winter Soldier we are after... it’s his heir,” he says.

You feel the color disappear from your face. They were after your baby, Bucky’s baby. God you hoped that Bucky figured out what happened to you by now and is on his way. You couldn’t help but be nervous that you would not survive whatever they have planned.

Bucky punches a few more times as blood sprays all over. “Tell me where she is!” he yells in the man’s face. “Buck, enough! You’re going to kill him!” Steve says. “He deserves to die for kidnapping Y/N!” Bucky says as Steve pulls him away. “Buck, I know you are concerned, but if you kill him we will have no leads. Just go wait over there or leave the room,” Steve says. “I’m not leaving until I know where my girl and baby are, Steve,” Bucky says.

Steve nods and turns back to the man who is bloody and oddly enough, laughing. “Since when are the Avengers mobsters? Beating a man to a pulp for information! You have watched too many movies,” he says. Steve walks up the man and pulls his head back, “Where is she? You picked her up and dropped her somewhere, now tell me where,” Steve says patiently.

The man spit blood on Steve’s face which caused Bucky to start toward him again, but Steve stopped him. He wipes off his face and looks at the man, “Well, I tried to be nice. If you think the Winter Soldier was bad, you haven’t met Black Widow,” Steve says. At that the door opens and Natasha walks in with a bunch of different tools, a smirk on her face.

“Hello boys. Heard some information was needed,” she said eyeing the man who was tied up. He looked at her arrogantly, but Bucky heard his heart rate go up. he was nervous. Good.

You don’t know how long you have been there. Days and nights seem to have blended into one. They feed you, if what you are given can be considered food, but they have run tests on you, and you heard they are considering taking the baby out of you early. You are starting to lose hope that Bucky will ever find you, but you keep praying he will. Please Bucky, come find me. Please save us.

The door opens and in comes two men in black uniforms. They uncuff you and drag you to your feet. You try to fight them, but you are so weak.They continue to drag you down the hall to the same room you have been in multiple times. You look and you see a tray with different surgical tools. You know now that this might be the end. You have fought, but you don’t know if you will be able to save yourself or your baby.

You are placed on the table and strapped down tightly. You continue to wiggle and try to fight out of the the binds that keep you to the bed. You hear the laughing in the room, “You still haven’t learned that fighting is useless. We are going to get what we want. The assets child, with the serum running through their veins. We will be able to use this child to create more soldiers. HYDRA will win!” he says.

The doctor starts walking your way with the scalpel, and your breathing gets heavy in panic. In no time at all you start to scream as you feel the sharp utensil cut into your pregnant belly. Before he gets too far the door to the room and smashed down and Bucky, Sam, Steve, and Nat all run in fits, guns, and everything else blazing. Wanda runs in later with red floating around her hands.

You feel yourself losing consciousness and your child is moving like crazy in your belly. You try and focus on one thing to keep yourself conscious, but the darkness is winning. You swear you hear Bucky’s voice calling for you, but you can’t react. Your last thought is that your baby is safe.

You wake up to beeping, which is very annoying. You slowly open your eyes and see a bright white room with the sun shining in. You see Bucky slouched in a chair next to your bed, sleeping. You admire him for a moment before you quietly call out for him. “Bucky,” you say in a raspy voice. Bucky startles awake at the sound of your voice and looks at you.

“Oh thank God,” he says and he leans into the bed holding your hand. You see tears flow freely down his cheeks as he looks at you with relief. “How long was I out?” you asked. “Um.. 4 days. You were malnourished and dehydrated, but Dr. Cho and Bruce took great care of you,” he says inching closer to you. “And the baby?” you ask, putting your free hand on your bump.

“The baby is just fine. Still cooking,” he says with a watery chuckle. You pull on his hand and bring him into your bed where he wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he says, kissing your head and when you look at him, your forehead.

“Bucky, it’s not your fault--” “You were taken because of me. They were going to hurt you both because of me,” he says. You take his face in your hands, “They wanted our baby, Bucky. If anything I should thank you and the rest of the team for saving us. You saved me and our baby. I’m sorry I missed the wedding,” you say looking into his eyes.

“I... I got scared you changed your mind. That you didn’t want me and my baggage. That you didn’t want to marry me,” he says. You lean in and kiss his lips softly. You pull away quickly to say, “I love you more than anything, Buck. I want to marry you so bad, I would do it in this bed!” you say.

Bucky kisses you again, passionately. “Let’s do it! I can have the pastor here, have our team here. Let’s get married right now,” he says with hope in his eyes. You give him a wide smile, “Let’s do it! Let’s get married!” you say before kissing him again.

In a short time your friends and pastor arrived and you and Bucky married from your hospital bed. The whole “ceremony” Bucky had his metal arm wrapped around you, and his flesh hand rubbing your baby bump. It wasn’t the wedding you imagined, but all that mattered was the man sitting next to you, pledging his life to you and you to his.

It was the happiest day of your life, as least until another month when your son Steve James Barnes was born. Happy and healthy!

Hope you liked it!!

Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @tuiccim @comedictragedy @cap-n-stuff @thefridgeismybestie @aleaisntcreative @lookiamtrying @pinknerdpanda @morganclaire4 @iamvalentinaconstanza @verygraphicink @im-squished @joannie95 @peace-love-hobbitness @connie326 @arundhati1609 @amandamdiehl @harrysthiccthighss @its-izzys @roserose26 @rebekahdawkins @elegantobservationstudentsblog @broco8 @bestofbucky @white-wolf1940 @loser-alert @jassy2101

#Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #Bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

Text

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.

“Konechno.” Of course.

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.

My father is an arms-dealer.

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé.

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello.

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf countdown #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #a court of mist and fury

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purrincess-chat · 4 years ago

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH18

I commented recently after GoS aired that canon Alya was on her way up, but MDCSPR Alya was on her way down. Consider this the beginning of the end for her for a while.

Previous First Next AO3

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

Chapter 18: You Are In Love

“Good evening, m’lady! You’re looking radiant as ever tonight,” Chat Noir called. His boots clanked against the roof, and he tucked his staff into his belt as he approached the love of his life.

Ladybug stood on the edge, the lights from the city reflecting in her dark hair. Her eyes sparkled when she turned to him, and his heart fluttered. There was no contest—Ladybug was the most beautiful girl in the world, and his heart would always belong to her. She flicked his bell with the playful smile that made him melt.

“When are you going to stop calling me that?” she asked.

“Only when you fall in love with me.” He grinned. “Or if you kiss me.”

She looked up at him through long, fluttery lashes. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

His heart took off into a sprint as Ladybug wrapped her arms around his neck and stretched up on her toes. He leaned down and touched his lips to hers, savoring those few moments of bliss while they lasted. Nothing else mattered—just his lips on hers. The girl of his dreams was kissing him, and he wanted to stay locked in her embrace forever.

“Adrien,” she sighed his name when they pulled away, lingering close.

Her bright blue eyes found his, soft fingertips trailing down his arms. A light breeze blew through the garden, and Marinette smiled up at him.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” she asked.

He answered by leaning in, arms wrapping tightly around her waist. Her lips were soft and warm, and they kissed him back eagerly. Their hearts beat in time together, passionately entwined. There was no one to interrupt them here. The invisible force that drew him to Marinette bound him tightly, and he wasn’t letting go. He didn’t want to.

Marinette was beautiful and kind, and Adrien wanted to stay in the garden with her forever. His Marinette. The girl he’d always protect, no matter how far he fell to do it. He’d never thought about it before, but holding her this close felt right. She felt right. Marinette had seared her name onto his heart the day they met, binding them together forever. They were always meant to be.

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips, “Marinette.”

A clap of thunder boomed, and Adrien shot upright in bed, heart pounding. What once was a small flame now blazed wildly, burning his chest, his cheeks, his head. Marinette. Marinette was…

People don’t sneak off into the garden to kiss their friends, Adrikins.

Adrien touched his lips, still tingling from his dream. It felt so real. He’d kissed Marinette, not Ladybug. It was never Ladybug. From the moment their lips touched, it was always Marinette. The pounding of his heart, the fire burning through his chest, was all from Marinette.

Kicking off the blankets, he stumbled into his bathroom and flicked on the faucet. His cheeks were bright red and hot to the touch. Everything was too hot. He splashed cold water on his face, but the flames were too big to extinguish now. His heart refused to slow the cadence ravaging his veins.

I love you.

Sparks shot up his arms, numbing his fingers. He said it to Marinette. It had all felt so right in his dream. Now his heart had been stirred so violently in the waking world that not even he could control it. He could still feel the pressure of her lips on his, the warmth of her breath on his tongue. It had all felt real…

Outside the storm raged, the downpour beating against the windows too loud for him to make sense of his racing thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to drown out the noise, but it was no use. His heart and his mind were at war, and Adrien was caught in the crossfire.

Has another lady finally stolen your heart?

He didn’t call her m’lady. When he saw Ladybug that evening, he didn’t call her cute names or tell her she was beautiful. His heart didn’t burn when she called him kitty. Not like it did now. His head was spinning.

He gripped the countertop until his knuckles turned white. The eyes staring back at him in the mirror buzzed with the electricity spreading across every inch of his skin. Lightning flashed, and the sparks vanished. His racing thoughts skidded to a halt, and the air in the room hung still and quiet. Adrien held his breath.

In the silence, his heartbeat echoed in his ears in a deafening chorus, and when the thunder finally came, all of the tension came crashing down, threatening to crush Adrien under the weight. His head had gone quiet, but his heart was loud, beating to a new rhythm. No, not new. It was old and familiar, a song that had been playing the whole time, too quietly for him to notice. Marinette’s rhythm.

He and Marinette hadn’t kissed in the garden, but Adrien wished they did. If Chloe hadn’t interrupted, then he wouldn’t have stopped. He would have kissed her again and again and again. Marinette. His first friend. The girl he’d go to hell for. The girl he couldn’t stop chasing, and now he knew why. She’d stolen his heart and run away, and this time he was going to steal hers back.

♪♫♪ willow ♪♫♪

Marinette skipped down the stairs to the bakery the next morning, lips pursed. News about Gabrielle had spread rapidly, and everyone at school knew now. Macy and Eliott texted Marinette the moment she got home from the party. Gabrielle told her not to worry, that Marinette shouldn’t care about her, and she was right. It wasn’t like they were friends, and after everything Gabrielle had done, Marinette should be happy like everyone else. But she wasn’t.

Maybe she was stupid. Or maybe she just couldn’t help herself. Tikki was right after all—Marinette couldn’t stop helping people.

“Good morning, sweetie,” her mom greeted.

“Morning.” Marinette stooped to kiss her cheek.

“Did you have fun at the movies last night with your new friends?” her dad asked.

“Yeah,” she said unconvincingly, biting her lip.

“Well, it takes time to adjust to a new school, and we’re happy you’ve already made some new friends. They’re welcome here anytime, okay?” Her mom lifted her chin, and Marinette offered her a smile.

“Thanks, Maman. I’ll see you tonight.” Marinette waved over her shoulder.

The sky was still gray from the late-night storm, casting a dreary haze over the city—a true testament to her mood. Droplets dripped from the overhang onto her blazer, and she brushed them off with a sigh.

Everything would be fine. If she tried hard enough, she could introduce Gabrielle to her group, convince her to be nicer to everyone, and they could all be friends. She’d helped Martin, Eliott, and Macy a lot since she met them. She could do the same for Gabrielle.

“Ya know.” She jumped at a familiar voice. “I think I’m starting to like the uniform.” Adrien leaned through the open window of his silver car, dreamy as ever.

“That makes one of us.” A smile curled on her lips.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.” She gave him a look. “Okay, it’s pretty bad, but if it makes you feel better, I think you look cute in anything.”

She faltered, cheeks burning hotter than the bakery oven. Adrien thought she was cute! He’d almost kissed her. Twice. And now he was calling her cute! Dreams really did come true.

“I- well, it’s not- I mean, I’m not nearly as cute as you,” she stammered.

Nailed it.

“True, I am the cutest teen in Paris. At least, that’s what all the tabloids say.” He flashed her his best model smolder. “But if you look as cute as you did last night all the time, you might just give me a run for my money.”

He noticed! Chloe sat between them on the ride home and refused to let him walk her in, so Marinette worried that he didn’t get to see how cute she looked. Lisette needed to teach her how to work that kind of magic all the time.

“Well, after Chloe hosed us down, I had a little help getting cleaned up,” she said.

Adrien’s bodyguard cleared his throat from the driver’s seat, and Adrien flashed her an apologetic wince.

“Guess it’s time to go. I’ve got a full schedule this week, so I wanted to see you at least a little bit,” he said. “Let’s hang out when I’m free again.”

“Yeah, of course,” she said, and Adrien smiled.

“See you later, Marinette.”

“Yeah, see you.”

♪♫♪ Ain’t It Fun ♪♫♪

Things were as bad as Marinette expected at school. Everyone was elated about Gabrielle, and Marinette’s friends were no exception.

“I can’t believe she’s really broke. What did her face look like when everyone at the party found out?” Macy chattered before class.

“Yeah, how did you get invited to Lisette’s party, Marinette?” Eliott asked.

Marinette squirmed in her seat. “I-” She flicked her gaze over to Gabrielle, sitting in the back of the room. “I went with some old friends.”

“Oh! Chloe, right? I heard she helped Ladybug and Chat Noir defeat an akuma as Queen Bee again. It must be so awesome being friends with a superhero!” Macy said, and Marinette didn’t have the energy to correct her. “But more importantly, word on the street is you and Adrien came in soaking wet from the garden. Wanna explain yourself?”

Marinette’s heart skipped. She’d been hoping the Gabrielle news would be enough to distract people from that detail. Remembering the warmth of his breath so close to her lips sent her mind into a tizzy. Then there was this morning…

“We went for a walk in the garden, and the sprinklers turned on,” Marinette said as if it were no big deal, even though it was probably the biggest deal of her life.

“Then why is your face so red, hmm?” Eliott smirked.

“I- we- nothing happened!” Marinette insisted, but when her friends seem unconvinced, she diverted their attention. “Want to hear something horrific that happened? After I got cleaned up from the sprinkler-incident, I ran into Thomas, and he kind of hit on me.”

“Ugh!”

“Gross!” Macy and Eliott both recoiled.

“He is such a scuzzbag. Please tell me you told him off.” Macy groaned.

“Well, I started to, but then Gabrielle interrupted, and they started arguing, then Thomas told everyone Gabrielle’s secret, and yeah,” Marinette said.

“Serves her right. If Thomas wasn’t just as awful, I’d commend him for taking interest in you. You’re definitely a step up from Gabrielle,” Eliott said.

“I dunno… Don’t you guys feel at least a little bad for her?” Marinette winced, and Eliott and Macy looked at her like she’d grown a second head.

“Absolutely not. It’s going to be a lot quieter around here without her bossing everyone around,” Macy said.

“Yeah, she got what was coming to her.” Eliott agreed.

“Well, she was terrible and mean, but maybe if we showed her a little kindness, she could change,” Marinette said. When Macy and Eliott stared at her again, she faced forward with a sigh. “Never mind.”

“Look, Marinette, we love you, and it’s super sweet that you want to help everyone. Seriously, you’re an angel, but Gabrielle is a demon. She’s run this school ever since she set foot in it, and now her kingdom has crumbled. Those of us who have been enslaved by her tyranny are enjoying our newfound freedom,” Eliott said. “I mean, if that mean girl who stole all of your friends from your old school got exposed tomorrow, wouldn’t you be happy?”

He had a point. If it were Lila, Marinette would be over the moon. She couldn’t blame them for celebrating, and even though Gabrielle tormented everyone for the past three years, Marinette couldn’t help feeling like she wasn’t all bad.

If she had learned anything since leaving her old school, it was that people could change. People she thought were trustworthy could become strangers overnight, and people she never thought possible could become her most trusted allies. But maybe they were right. Maybe Gabrielle was a lost cause, and Marinette should just let her go. Things would be easier that way.

“Yeah, I guess…” Marinette mumbled as Mr. Mercier called for everyone to find their seats.

Marinette didn’t bring Gabrielle up again for the rest of the day. Her friends weren’t going to forgive her any time soon, and truthfully, she shouldn’t have expected them to. Gabrielle Burton was their Chloe Bourgeois wrapped in Lila Rossi. The reigning queen of their nightmares was now reduced to a powerless shell of her former glory, and peace had been restored to the kingdom at last. If someone told Ladybug on her first day that she would willingly give Chloe Bourgeois a Miraculous to fight beside her, she would have thought they were crazy. Healing would take time, but just because they weren’t ready to forgive, didn’t mean Marinette couldn’t help on her own.

Gabrielle was by her locker at the end of the day, having waited until everyone left to change into her work apron. She bristled when Marinette approached.

“What do you want?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Marinette said. “Everyone else was so mean to you, and I just thought after everything that you could use a friend.”

“Of course they were mean. In case you’ve forgotten, I haven’t exactly been nice to them in the past either.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “I told you, I’ll be fine. Don’t risk your reputation for me.”

“You did.” Marinette nodded. “But there’s no one around now.”

Gabrielle eyed her, perplexed. “Why do you care so much?”

It was a question Marinette had been asking herself all day, and looking at Gabrielle now, she finally knew the answer.

“When I left my old school, I was afraid I’d lost all of my friends, and I felt so empty inside,” she said. “But then I met my new friends, and I knew that everything would be okay. They helped me find my footing when I felt like my world was crumbling, so I want to be that for you.”

“You’re stubborn, Marinette. I’ll give you that.” Gabrielle leaned against her locker with a smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Do you want to take the subway together?” Marinette offered.

“Fine.” Gabrielle shut her locker, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

She averted her gaze as they walked, cheeks pink, but a small smile tugged the corners of her lips. Gabrielle may have a complicated past, but maybe with the right influence, she could learn to be nice after all. Sometimes all a person needed was the right friend and to know that they weren’t alone.

♪♫♪ crushcrushcrush ♪♫♪

Alya descended the stairs to the courtyard slowly, her stomach churning in knots. When Malin showed up, Alya thought Ladybug picked new allies for all of the Miraculouses. After all, she and Nino knew each other’s identities, and everyone knew Chloe’s identity. So why did Queen Bee get to fight by Ladybug’s side again? What had Alya done to deserve being replaced that Chloe hadn’t? None of it made any sense.

Lila and Ladybug had never met before, and truthfully, I don’t think they really even like each other.

Was it all because of Lila? If Adrien and Marinette’s stories were true, then Ladybug would know if she was a liar. Had Alya ruined her chances of wearing a Miraculous by aligning herself with Lila? It was the only thing that made sense, but Alya couldn’t bring herself to believe it. She needed answers.

Alya vaguely remembered Adrien’s fencing schedule from helping Marinette with her hopeless confession schemes. She almost missed those days. Things were a lot simpler back then. If she remembered correctly, Adrien should have been finishing his private lessons, which would put him in the locker room.

Alya hurried to the double doors across the courtyard. At first she thought she’d missed him, but voices mumbled several rows down. Alya crept in quietly to get a better listen.

“Are you sure these questions will get her to spill the tea?” Chloe.

“Yeah, all we have to do is get her to agree to it,” Adrien said.

What were they up to? Sure, everyone knew that Chloe and Adrien were friends since childhood, but on most days ‘friends’ was a generous exaggeration. As far as Alya knew, Adrien could hardly stand Chloe, so why were they talking now? Ducking behind the next row up from theirs, Alya held her breath and listened.

“Lila isn’t going to know what hit her after our interview with Ladybug goes live. She is so done for,” Chloe said darkly.

“I’m not doing this to ruin Lila’s reputation-”

“I know, I know.” Chloe groaned. “I can’t believe you’re going through all this effort to trick a superhero into exposing Lila for Little Miss Nobody.”

What?

“Her name is Marinette, and I know you miss her too, Chloe,” Adrien said.

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’ve actually got feelings for her—I might barf. It’s bad enough I had to chase you two out of the garden last night,” Chloe groaned. “Let’s just get rid of Lila, then you can go play the hero for Dupain-Cheng, and I can get back to being the reigning queen at this school.”

“We’ll try to signal Ladybug tomorrow afternoon. After that, no one will ever trust Lila again,” Adrien said.

“You and I make such a good team, Adrikins. We should ruin lives together more often,” Chloe said.

“I don’t plan to make a habit of it.”

The locker door slammed, and Alya scrambled to the end of the row, diving behind a cart of basketballs. Her heart hammered, blood pounding in her ears. She waited until the courtyard doors shut and the room fell quiet to move.

Chloe and Adrien were working together to get back at Lila for Marinette! She’d been right not to trust him. All this time she thought Adrien was a good guy, but she should have known better. No nice person could be friends with Chloe Bourgeois for so long. Ugh, that girl made Alya so sick! How could anyone be that cruel? And Ladybug actually trusted her over Rena Rouge? After everything Alya had done to prove herself. Chloe was the most selfish, bratty, conniving person Alya had ever met! Why did Ladybug ever trust her? Unless…

Unless she didn’t.

What if Chloe was manipulating Ladybug too? She said they were going to trick her into exposing Lila, so what if she tricked her into giving her back her Miraculous? Chloe was very good at getting what she wanted, and it wasn’t beneath her to ruin someone’s life just for stealing attention away from her. But why would Adrien and Marinette help her?

Alya’s head was spinning. What was the truth? Was all of this a long con set up by Marinette, and Adrien and Chloe were just the pawns? Why would she do that? None of it made sense. Why did they all hate Lila so much?

One thing was for sure: she needed to warn Ladybug about that interview. If Chloe was manipulating her, then Alya needed to put a stop to it. Maybe then she could prove to Ladybug that she was still worthy of being a hero. But she needed to hurry.

Her fingers dialed quickly, and Lila answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I just overheard Adrien and Chloe talking. We don’t have a lot of time. We need to call Ladybug. Now.”

#mdcspr #mdcsp #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Nineteen ~ Haldir

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3722

Warnings: None

A/n I’m back bay-beeeee!!! Thank you for your patience while I took a few weeks off to finish school. I did something kinda stupid and booked a full semester of classes for the summer session *pained smile* and asked for more shifts at work *pained smile*. So! In light of this ~questionable~ choice, I'm changing my update schedule. Updates will now come for sure once a week on Wednesdays, with the occasional bonus chapter. Thanks for understanding, and happy reading!

I leave Cosima at her door.

I’m surprised by how much of my willpower it takes to walk away.

Now that I know what it’s like to hold her close, to feel her lips on mine, to hear her say that she loves me, I find it incredibly difficult to distance myself. I want more of her. I want to jump head-first into the ocean that is Cosima and allow myself to drown.

Though, I suppose, that is exactly what I am doing. Because loving her will be the death of me.

But denying the need to be with her is an even worse fate. And, by the way she seems to wholeheartedly return my affections, she feels the same.

Regardless, I have yet to even officially ask if I can court her — I have no right to invite myself into her chambers, especially not for the night. So, I return to my room. Thankfully, Rumil is still out. He adores Cosima almost as much as I do, but I guarantee he will not be pleased by the development in our relationship—understandably. Choosing to bind myself to a mortal means something difficult for my family. I will have to tell them soon, but not tonight. I don’t want to tarnish the euphoria my time with Cosima has given me.

I fall into bed.

I should be exhausted. After all, deciding to stop fighting reason and giving in to what I’ve been resisting for so long is quite tiring.

But every time I close my eyes, I remember Cosima looking up at me, dazed and adoring, the way her lips searched after mine, the way she looked when I told her how I felt.

It makes for quite a restless night.

{***}

My day seems endless. Every meeting, every drill, every task, my mind is consumed with Cosima. Now that I know I can hold her, kiss her, openly declare my affections, that is all I want to do. With every free moment in my day, I fight the urge to seek her out. We have plans to meet for dinner, and I anchor myself in that — I will see her then.

After a long day of agony, the time for dinner arrives.

When I hear the knock on my open door, I have to force myself not to run across the room. I take a deep breath when I reach the door, trying to push myself into my usual state of self-assurance. Once I’ve got myself under control, I open the door.

And the assurance vanishes.

Cosima steps into my room, beautiful and lovely as ever, wearing for the first time in all that I’ve known her, a shy smile. I understand it. Though we have been alone a thousand times before, and been friends for what feels like ages, after last night, everything feels new, unsure.

I close the door behind her.

“How was your day,” she asks, fiddling with her fingers.

I smile, trying to act normal. “It was alright.” I step forward, as close to her as I dare. The brilliant light of the sunset dances across her hair and I can’t help reaching up a hand to trace over the waves. “I admit though, I found myself quite distracted.”

She grins and quirks an eyebrow, already seeming much more like herself. “Would you like to tell me why?”

I dip my head closer to hers. “I’d wager you can guess.”

I press my lips to hers, all at once feeling the elation that comes with doing so and the anxiety that she will push me away and ask what in the Valar I think I’m doing. For all I know, last night could have been a fluke. She could have changed her mind.

But her lips move against mine and her hands find the back of my neck, holding me in place, and my worry vanishes. It is replaced by a new feeling, one that clouds my brain and blocks out everything around me except for her.

Cosima pulls away and rests her forehead against mine, looking up at me with wide, vulnerable eyes. “So you haven’t changed your mind?”

Oh, how alike we are. I take her hand, wrapping my other around her waist. It feels so strange to interact with someone like this. Not strange in a bad way—not at all—but I have spent my entire life keeping my distance from others. Never in over three thousand years have I wanted to take someone in my arms and hold them as close to me as possible. I squeeze the hand in mine. “No, I have not. And I won’t change my mind. I meant what I said last night. I choose you today and I will choose you for the rest of my life.”

She lets out a shuddering breath, her hand tensing on my shoulder. “I shouldn’t let you.”

Despite the concern I feel for her—I can see that my words have caused her a measure of stress—my lips quirk in a smile. “Cosima, I am fully grown and capable of making my own choices, just as you are. Though you can send me away if you wish—that is your right—it would not stop me from loving you.”

She sighs somewhat sadly, but she raises on her toes and kisses me again. “Well, you’ve got me completely besotted, so congratulations.”

I laugh, relieved to hear the words and to see that the sadness has left her eyes. I bury my face in her neck, hugging her tightly. “I guess that’s good to hear.”

She jabs her elbow into my ribs, presumably at my sarcasm, which only makes me laugh harder. She pushes against my chest, raising up for another kiss, when a knock sounds through the room.

We freeze.

Thank Valar I shut the door.

As if agreeing to an unspoken plan, Cosima hurries to sit at the small table where the dinner plates I have for us are set. Her presence shouldn’t be anything to cause alarm—we are well-known friends—though, I suppose, we have been avoiding each other for months.

I hold back a sigh. Yes, her presence probably will raise an eyebrow or two.

Once she’s settled, I roll back my shoulders and assume a neutral expression, opening my door.

It’s Orophin and Lavandil.

I smile, moving out of the way so they can enter, and welcome them in.

“Cosima.” Orophin falters upon noticing her presence.

She smiles and waves, standing from the table and joining us in the center of the room. “Hey, what’s up?”

Orophin glances between my human companion and myself. “I…” He furrows his eyebrows, obviously trying to draw a connection between Cosima, the closed door, and my hopefully neutral expression. I don’t think he gets there. “I am glad to see the two of you have reconciled,” he says finally, nodding at us both.

Lavandil, on the other hand, has her eyes blown wide. She stares pointedly at Cosima, looking like it’s taking all the effort in the world not to run over to her and demand an explanation. Cosima’s stoicism is not as practiced as mine, and she breaks eye contact under Lavandil’s stare, looking at the ceiling instead.

We’ll have to work on that later.

“What brings you here,” I ask, hoping to redirect the focus.

My question has an unintended effect. Orophin and Lavandil exchange glances, a weight seeming to fall on both of their shoulders.

Orophin clasps his hands behind his back, looking me square in the eye. He takes a deep breath. “I am staying in Imladris.”

Cosima makes an audible intake of breath.

I don’t move.

Orophin continues, hurrying to explain himself. “I know this seems sudden, but the thought has weighed on my mind for a while.”

Again, I say nothing.

My mind runs through a million things at once, analyzing previous conversations, expressions, looking for any clue that this was coming. In hindsight, there are many. How could I have missed the signs?

Orophin takes a step forward. “Brother, it…it is getting more dangerous in this world by the day. I understand my duty to my people but I will not leave Lavandil unprotected.”

I can respect that.

My eyes involuntarily turn to Cosima.

I can understand that.

There is nothing in this world that could stop me from doing all that I can to keep her safe.

I nod slowly, turning my gaze back to my brother and his love. “You are released from your duties until you decide to reclaim them. I wish you both all the happiness in the world.”

Orophin’s shoulders sag, his face breaking into an expression of relief. “Thank you, Haldir.”

Lavandil’s eyes shine and she steps forward, giving me a pleading look. “I’m sorry.”

Voices overlap as Orophin, Cosima, and I all hurry to reassure her that she has nothing to be sorry for. Lavandil smiles, still teary-eyed, though thankfully the guilt has faded from her face. She turns to Cosima, eyes softening. “I will miss you, mellon nîn.”

I watch Cosima closely. She blinks rapidly and, when she speaks, her voice is scratchy with emotion. “I’ll miss you, too.”

{***}

Orophin and Lavandil stay for dinner. The four of us talk, laugh, and carefully avoid the subjects of our impending departure from each other. When I shut the door behind them, a heavy realization make me want to slump my shoulders.

I will miss my brother.

Of course I am happy for him — he will no longer be separated from his love — but it is still sad to leave him behind, especially as this world becomes more and more perilous. Here in Imladris, he will be out of my control. I won’t be able to keep him safe.

I turn to Cosima, noticing the tracks of tears that run down her cheeks. I sigh, holding a hand out to her which she takes readily.

I pull her into a hug and rest my cheek against the top of her head. “Are you okay?”

She laughs without humor, burying her face in my chest. “Are you?”

I ignore the question. “I know you and Lavandil have become close.”

Cosima sighs, nodding. “I don’t think I actually ever considered that we would be leaving here. All the friendships I’ve made, all the things I’ve come to love about Imladris…I’m going to be leaving it all behind. It’s just,” she sighs again, her arms tightening around my back. “I don’t remember my home, but Imladris has become what I think a home would be.”

I purse my lips, feeling guilty. I didn’t consider how all this would affect her, though, now that I think about it, it is sure to. “Lavandil and Orophin will visit. I am even sure you will see Elrond again before long. And, should you desire it, Lothlórien will be your home. My people will be yours, they will welcome you and care for you as their own. It will become your world as much as it is mine.”

She exhales shakily and smiles up at me, giving me a look of adoration that takes my breath away. I bring a hand to her face, catching the tears before they can run into her smile.

“Thank you,” she breathes. She kisses me quickly on the lips before pulling away, wiping her tears and rolling her eyes. “Come on, I’ll stop crying so we can finish dinner.”

I laugh and follow her back to the table.

{***}

The next morning, I meet Cosima at her door. She smiles up at me, eyes still glazed slightly with sleep. She steps back, pulling the door with her to allow room for me to enter. Upon seeing the guest I’ve brought with me, her eyes widen.

“Good morning, Cosima,” I greet swiftly, knowing she won’t be pleased with my ambush.

Predictably, she purses her lips together, crosses her arms over her chest, and raises an eyebrow in my direction. “I told you, I will not be wearing that bulky, hot armor for the trip. There’s no need to bring a seamstress to measure me.”

At my side, Galina the seamstress shifts uncertainly.

I fix my gaze on Cosima, clasping my hands behind my back. “And I told you that you will be traveling as a member of my company, and as a member of my company, you are required to adhere to safety measures that I, the commander, deem fit.”

I’m used to glares.

Enemies, wardens, my brothers when they were children — all have given me scathing looks before, and it never bothered me. But the fire behind Cosima’s eyes puts all that experience to shame.

I remind myself to stand my ground.

Regardless of her personal feelings towards the armor, it will keep her safe. And I’m not even putting her in that much — just chainmail over her neck, arms, and torso. Alexander will be required to wear it as well.

She knows this of course, and still isn’t pleased.

But she throws her arms out to the side, allowing the seamstress to do her work. She stares me down the whole time, eyes narrowed, chin raised, face impassable.

Is this what I look like?

Galina takes the measurements and leaves quickly, off to Alexander’s chambers and then to the armory. I talked to Alexander earlier and he has no qualms with wearing the armor, so why is Cosima putting up such a fight?

The door closes behind Galina, and Cosima crosses her arms over her chest. “One of these days, I’m going to ambush you, see how you like it,” she mutters, continuing to glare at me.

I give her a stern look. “You know my reasoning and I will not be moved on this. In Imladris or Lothlórien it is different, but on the road, I am in charge of ensuring the safety of every member of my company. Were you anyone else, I would still insist on the armor — no one travels without it. You can imagine I am doubly focused on safeguarding the woman I love.”

Her expression softens. She smiles somewhat begrudgingly. “I guess I can’t fault you for that.”

I return her smile and take a step in her direction, pleased to be on good terms again.

The eyebrow shoots back up and her eyes narrow once more.

I freeze mid-step.

“But I can fault you for showing up so early in the morning with Galina without a minute of warning! I’m still in my pajamas!”

I raise an eyebrow to match hers. “I highly doubt you would have gone to the seamstress willingly.”

She huffs. “Maybe I would had I known the alternative was a sneak attack.” But despite her words, the playfulness returns to her eyes. She extends a hand in my direction. I close the distance between us, taking the offering gladly.

I decide to push my luck. “I must admit, I find the sight of you in your pajamas quite endearing.”

Cosima snorts, laying her head against my chest. “Yeah, well get ready to be endeared for three weeks straight. I’m only wearing old tunics on the road — I’m not risking ruining any of the new things from Lavandil.” A pause, and she sighs. She moves her head back so she can see me. “What are we going to do on the road?”

I furrow my eyebrows. “I don’t follow your meaning.”

“Are we going to tell your brothers,” she clarifies, shrugging her shoulders, “or are we going to pretend that we haven’t…” She huffs, searching for her words, “changed the nature of our relationship?”

“Right.” I take a deep breath.

I dread telling my brothers. While I am elated at finally being with Cosima, I know my brothers are likely to focus less on my happiness and more on my impending demise. I’m the one in love, and I struggled for months with the reality of my choice. Regardless, it is important to tell them soon. Hiding it would only make it worse. “I would prefer to tell them before we leave Imladris. I don’t want to waste any time with you pretending we’re not together, especially since they’re going to find out eventually, anyway.”

She nods, looking up at me in understanding. “Whenever you’re ready. I suppose we’ll have to tell Alex, too.”

I fight the urge to grimace.

She sees right through it. She laughs, pushing against my chest. “He’s gotten so much better and you know it.”

“True,” I allow. Learning Sindarin and researching his condition have done wanders for his personally — I would say the man is nearly tolerable by now.

Of course, that is likely to change on the road when he is away from his books and under my command.

“Oh, and once we tell your brothers, I want to tell Lavandil, too,” Cosima reminds me. “She’s been rooting for us.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Rooting for us? I didn’t even know she was aware of our mutual interest.”

Cosima grins guiltily. “You may have come up in conversation once or twice.”

I roll my eyes, trying to cover up how pleased I am. “Well, there’s no sense in delaying it. I had planned to dine with my brothers after training tonight. Would you like to join us? We can tell them then.”

She nods, taking a deep breath. “Sounds good. Oh, and I guess Baranor will need a heads up as well.” She scrunches up her eyebrows. “Gosh, that’s a lot of telling. Can’t we just send out a newsletter?”

I laugh, pulling her back against my chest. “If only it were that easy.”

{***}

My brothers and I dine in Cosima’s chambers. Her seating area is larger, the table as well, and I’d rather tell them in the privacy of her room than in the dining hall where anyone could react.

Rumil suspects.

From the moment I asked him to meet in Cosima’s room, suspicion entered his eyes. He had passed through the doorway warily, looking as if he expected some sort of ambush. When he locked eyes with Cosima, he had given her a meaningful, almost pleading look.

Orophin, on the other hand, walks in hesitantly, shooting nerves glances towards Rumil, and I wonder how Rumil took the news of Orophin deciding to stay in Imladris. By the tension I notice between them, it didn’t go exceedingly well.

I feel a bout of anxiety for my youngest brother.

The four of us gather in the seating area. Cosima babbles nervously, telling my brothers every minute detail of her day. They appear politely interested, but I know by the distant looks in both of their eyes that they are lost in their own worries.

No sense in dragging this out.

I can tell I surprise everyone when I take the spot on the couch next to Cosima rather than the empty armchair. My brothers freeze, exchanging a look. Cosima glances up at me, her eyes wide and nervous.

I take a deep breath. “Orophin, Rumil, I suspect you have been aware of my feelings for Cosima for quite some time. I discovered recently that she returns them, and we have committed ourselves to each other.”

Silence.

Rumil clenches his jaw. “Have you bonded?”

“No—“

“—then there is still time!”

“But I intend to,” I finish, hating the way my youngest brother visibly wilts at my words.

With wide eyes, Orophin glances between myself and Cosima. “My friend, you know I mean no offense, but—” he shakes his head, turning his whole focus to me. “Haldir you cannot tie yourself to a human. You will die.”

Cosima sucks in a sharp breath, eyes falling to the ground.

I take her hand in mine, keeping my gaze steady on my brother. “I know.”

“Then you are a fool!” Rumil’s shout shocks us all with its volume. He stands and grips the back of the chair, looking ill.

Orophin groans, resting his elbow on his knee and bringing a hand to rub at his temple. “You have to know how ridiculous this is. There are a thousand other elleth out there. Save your eternity and use it to find one you could love.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Could you leave Lavandil behind and search for another?”

Orophin grits his teeth. “That’s different. Our lives are compatible.”

“Are they? Though you are both eldar, your relationship is not without sacrifice. For years, the two of you sacrificed being with each other to continue your usual lives. Now, you’re sacrificing your home, your career, and your family because your love is worth it. Allow me the dignity to choose my own sacrifice.”

Orophin’s breath catches in his throat. His pained face falls into hopelessness, and he shrugs his shoulders. “So we are to resign ourselves to a handful of years left with you?”

In my hand, Cosima’s begins to shake.

I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss on its back. I address my brothers once more. “I have had over three thousand years in this world. I count myself blessed to spend the remainder of those days, however long they may be, in the company of those I love.”

Orophin’s mouth goes slack. He looks between Cosima and myself, and, vaguely, I wonder what sort of picture we paint. An elf and a human.

“I cannot say that I am not saddened by your choice, nor that I understand it. But if it has to be a human, then I am glad it is you, Cosima.” Orophin, Valar bless him, tries for a smile in Cosima’s direction. It’s strained and sad, but it’s an effort — one I am very thankful for.

Rumil hasn’t moved.

Cosima looks to him, worry in her eyes, and I remember how close she and my brother are. Right from the start, he has been one of her closest friends, and it must hurt her to be at odds with him, to know that something she can’t control is causing him pain.

When she speaks, her voice is fragile, vulnerable. “Rumil?”

He continues to grip the back of the chair and looks to the ground, avoiding our eyes. He grits his teeth. “Stay away from me, both of you.”

And he storms out of the room.

A/n Likes, comments, and reblogs are always cherished <3 Hope you’re doing well! (But its okay if you’re not!)

|next chapter|

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#haldir #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction #rumil #orophin #double heart

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years ago

Text

Nothing Alike: II

Description: Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with taking out a fellow Witcher who has decided to settle down in a town. She has no intention of leaving and Geralt is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: (future as well as present) violence, angst, smut, fluff, language

A/N: Is that a backstory and angst I smell??

Masterlist

Geralt was enjoying the spring afternoon when she started yelling at him…or at least she tried.

“Ah you’re awake,” he replied to her gagged screams. She was squirming behind him, probably trying to get out of the well placed knots he had tied to ensure she wouldn’t get away when she did finally wake up. He noticed Roach getting restless, annoyed both with the extra passenger and her lack of manners, so Geralt gave her a little shove, sending her toppling to the ground. She hit the ground with a thud and flipped over to glare at him.

If she hadn’t been mad before, she definitely was now. In the fall her gag had come lose and now he was being subject to ever single word she had to say. So much for enjoying the afternoon.

“I should fucking kill you, you fucking coward. Where do you get off kidnapping me?” she howled, struggling against the binds. When she failed, dangerous eyes flashed at him and she snarled. “Let me go now, and I promise I won’t kill you.”

“You’re not really in the position for bargaining.”

“Yet.”

“Say I let you go, what then?”

“I’ll join a convent and repent and pray to God every day,” she began before bursting into laughter and laying in the grass. “I thought I could say it, but even your horse knew that was horse shit, I’m going to go back to where I came from and make some money.”

“Then I can’t let you go.”

“What’s it to you anyways?”

“People already don’t trust Witchers, it’s not going to get any better if word gets around that one is robbing a town of its money.”

“I won it fair and square, no robbery required.”

“Of course, fair and square, with nothing but a genetic mutation on your side.” She sent him another glare, trying to subtly slide the ropes from her legs. “If you try running, I’ll catch you.”

“Oh please, last time you got lucky.”

“No, you underestimated me.”

“Well when you look like that I’m not exactly wowed,” she sneered.

“You talk big game for being the one tied.”

“You think this is the first time I’ve been tied up, c’mon being the only female Witcher who isn’t dying through the trials is sure to make me some enemies. Don’t worry, I took care of them.”

“The only female Witcher?”

“Oh, you haven’t been keeping up with your old school I see. We’re kind of a new idea, most of us die off, actually all of us died off, except me, I lived out of spite. And now I’m being harassed by another Witcher who thinks he’s got some holy purpose, well it turns out you don’t. Go, do whatever you want, stop killing monsters and make a good life for yourself, but before you do all that untie me.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” she growled, struggling with the knots a little more frantically now.

“They hired me to get rid of you, if I let you go you’ll just go back, and then they’ve wrongfully paid me, plus they think you’re dead.”

“They think I’m what?” she yelled.

“Dead, I told them you were.”

“Then why aren’t I?”

“Do you want to be?”

“Anything is better than being babysat by some holier-than-thou, thousand-year-old, Witcher who wouldn’t know how to have fun if it sprouted out of his big toe.” Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, considering if he should have killed her in that alley. “Why do you want me around anyway?” His anger fizzled away for a moment at that question. It sounded just as biting as the rest, but something else had slithered into her tone, a sliver of self-deprecation perhaps? And it made him think, why did he take her, why when she was nothing but agony in his side did he bother bringing her with him.

“Because I want to know you,” he said and she snorted. She was laughing at him without a care in the world.

“Why on earth would you want to know me.”

“Consider it a study, you’re the first witcher I’ve met who didn’t go right to work, who didn’t take the weight of the world upon yourself and work yourself into nothing but blood and rust mixing with the dirt.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Maybe not to you, but all I heard was, a witcher who knows how to enjoy life.” He snarled and she laughed. “If you’re going to study me you should probably untie me.”

“How about you answer some of my questions and then I untie you.” She considered it for a moment, weighing the pros and cons before she brightened with a grin.

“I’m an open book.” He climbed off his horse and ungracefully pulled her over to a boulder, perching her on top of it. He tied Roach to a tree and took a seat on his own stump.

“How long have you been out of the academy?”

“A couple weeks.”

“How old are you?”

“Geralt, you’re never supposed to ask a woman her age,” she teased, ignoring the annoyed look he sent her. “22, in real time.”

“Young to be a Witcher.”

“Like I said, I’m special,” she sneered.

“What do you mean by special.”

“Fuck if I know, that’s just what they told me.”

“Do you have a guess.”

“A few.”

“Are you going to share?”

“Are you going to make me?”

“No.”

“Then I think I would like to keep it to myself.” He nodded sharply before continuing.

“How long were you in that town.”

“The moment they let me go.”

“Did you try to leave before then.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you go?”

“How do you know I succeeded?”

“The scars above your collar.” Subconsciously, she raised her shoulders, shifting her collar to cover the pink scars.

“They’re not from escaping, they did other things for escaping, but I tried to go home. I thought I could go back to living with my mother after she sold me out. Guess I was wrong, she sold me out again and got another purse of gold for her trouble. Then they locked me in a box, told me what being caged really felt like.”

“What are the scars from?”

“Various other incidents.”

“So, you were a regular problem then?”

“Of course.”

“Anything in particular stand out?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean any crimes that were really heinous.”

“I killed an instructor once, it was an accident but it still happened.” Geralt didn’t continue for a moment, reading the look of regret on her face. She smiled at him, almost exhausted, praying that he wouldn’t ask her to discuss it further.

“What about the boys at school, did they torment you?”

“All the time, I got used to it.”

“How bad did it get?”

“One time they cornered me late at night, held a knife to my throat and dragged me to the window. They wanted me to admit I was a whore, that I was sleeping with our instructors. I wouldn’t say it though, they threatened me for what seemed like hours, pushing me just a little too far before yanking me back inside, letting my feet slip against the windowsill. They wanted me to beg and scream for help.”

“Did you say it?”

“No.”

“And what happened?”

“They dropped me. I thought I was as good as dead, but I refused to scream, even on the way down. I hit a snow drift and walked away unscathed. They thought I would leave that night so I am pleased to say they were shocked to see me walk in the next day ready to fight.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“If I had told someone they would know exactly who shoved him down the stairs two nights later. His nose is still busted, well was.”

“Was?”

“He was one of the lucky fellows who tried to get rid of me before you came along. He’s the only one it was a pleasure to kill.”

“How many did you kill?”

“Five.” Geralt clenched his fists, she had killed five witchers, more than any monster or mage could claim and he was allowing her to live. Why was he letting her live? “Any other questions?”

“How did you feel when you killed them?”

“Terrible. I buried them, gave each of them a proper burial, except my tormentor of course. I tried to get them to leave me alone, to leave but they just wouldn’t go away. I begged them yknow, pleaded while they tried to kill me. I just wanted to be free but they saw nothing but my blood on their silver bladed sword. Until you came along of course.” He stayed silent, watching her shifting in her bindings.

“Why don’t you want to be a witcher?”

“It was an accident I became one, a curse from God. I should have died, they were willing to let me die. I’m not going to come close to death because of them ever again, not the school, the King, or God himself can make me.”

“What about me.” She glanced at him and grinned but said nothing. He reached over and sliced her bindings with the knife she had stabbed him with the day prior. “Don’t run off, we’re heading towards the moors tomorrow.”

She was gone the next morning.

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