#i had a whole Journey with this one we cried we laughed (cried mostly) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monstrousproductions · 2 years ago

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OK so bear with me for adding onto an already giant post but! This ask made me really curious about what is said about Jonah in rabbinic literature. This is all from the wikipedia page 'Jonah in Rabbinic Literature' (thanks, wikipedia!) and the citations are mostly from the Yalkut Shimoni and the Zohar, two collections of Torah commentary. I'm not Jewish and I was never very good at exegesis so I'm mostly just relaying what the wikipedia page told me with some light interpretation, so set your expectations accordingly!

My first favourite thing is that when Jonah ran to Jaffa to get the boat to Tarshish (possibly Tarsus, as vaguely alluded to above), he missed the boat by two days. But God had sent a wind to drive it back into port - a wind which only affected that one particular boat, and no others. Rather than seeing this and thinking, "hm, maybe I shouldn't play games with a god who can do that, maybe actually God is still God even when you're on a boat," Jonah - being what we in theological circles term, "a dumbass" - takes this as vindication of his genius plan!

In his glee, excitement and certainty that everything's coming up Jonah, he goes against normal custom which I assume was a half now, half later kind of deal, and pays for the full journey up front - some even say he paid the whole value of the ship, which, why, Jonah? Why would you do that? Love that he paid that much just to be chucked into the ocean, RIP my best beloved.

My next favourite bit is on the boat. The sailors have woken Jonah from his panic nap and established that yes, this horrendous storm is all his fault, but they're not about to just outright murder a guy without a little sure evidence it's the right thing to do! So they take Jonah and they dangle him over the side of the boat, dunking him up to his knees. And the storm quiets down! and they pull him out and the storm picks up again. And they dunk him again, a bit deeper, and the storm quiets down even more! And they DUNK the prophet of God, they DUNK him like a COOKIE in the name of SCIENCE.

Even then, they're still not wild for the murder thing and as they chuck him overboard they're like, making direct eye contact with the sky like, "You know this isn't on us, right? This is not on us!"

And then we get to my absolute favourite part, which is what the Yalkut Shimoni tells us happened while Jonah was in the fish (or rather, what wikipedia tells me the Yalkut Shimoni tells us happened...)

So first, there's a nice bit in the Zohar that mentions that the fish has eyes like windows, or perhaps has a kind of light-emitting pearl hanging from its ribs so it's not completey dark inside. I think it works better as a Sheol metaphor if it's dark, but also, fish-eye windows is a banging aesthetic.

But then the fish tells Jonah that, originally, he was supposed to be eaten by the Leviathan - the OG sea monster - and not this nice handsome fish. Which I suppose must have the implication that the Leviathan is now still out of Jonah but is going to eat the fish too?? Because Jonah asks to be taken to the Leviathan to try and save both his life, and that of his new friend/house/transport.

Upon meeting the Leviathan, Jonah.... "exhibited the seal of Abraham". Which. Um. OK so this is where my caveat above about not being Jewish and also not having been a very good theologian in my day, it all comes up here. Because I'm like hmm OK so is that uhh.... Is that his dick? Like, the sign of Abraham's covenant with God? Circumcision? It kills me. It kills me. I laughed til I cried. He's just down there flashing his junk at this scary sea monster and it works because the Leviathan sees it and runs two days away.

Which also like, I'm sorry Leviathan but are you worried you'll get smote? Because this guy is already in a fish in the bottom of the sea, I know he's one of God's chosen people and all but let's be honest, that's not a circumstance under which I would assume he was one of God's very favourites.

The fish, meanwhile, is delighted! He's so thrilled at not getting eaten that he takes Jonah on a little tour of all the interesting sights at the bottom of the ocean, like "here's where Moses crossed the Red Sea, here's the big treasure chest that opens every few seconds and squirts out bubbles, here's some crabs that eat wood". And Jonah has three days of... a pretty good time, actually!

But God is like, hey! I did not send you down there for a jolly holiday, young man! And sends another, different fish "where he would be less comfortable". This fish is a lady fish and is pregnant, so Jonah's all squashed and cramped inside her - I imagine him with his knees around his ears as these very annoying little baby fish keep asking him if he has any games on his phone. And that finally pushes him to pray to God and admit that OK yeah maybe he can't "outrun the Almighty" or whatever.

Finally, another thing that really cracked me up while talking to a friend about this all was when we were talking about the people of Ninevah. Like, they repented immediately. They just were like, oh shit, we were doing a sin? My bad, dude. Sackcloth and ashes, posthaste!

(A funny aside - there's a decent argument to be made for Jonah originally being written as a parody or satire, and someone is quoted on the wikipedia page as saying the idea of even the animals of Ninevah fasting in repentance is... "silly".)

Which makes Jonah's fury even funnier, and also his reticence to go in the first place, which these commentaries explain as being about his unwillingness to make God? look bad? I don't really follow it fully, I think it's saying that if he went to Ninevah and everyone repented and then didn't get smote, then nobody would believe God could smite people. Which doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, but I'm a 21st century Quaker so who knows.

Anyway, that's all from today's issue of You Said Ramble, So I Rambled. Now I'm off to write my mid-budget, hyper stylised Jonah film adaptation starring Dev Patel as Jonah and Adjoa Andoh as the Voice of God.

I would listen to a audio drama about "your boy jonah" but also, tell me about your boy! Here is a free space to ramble. Please info-dump.

Free space to ramble?! Don't mind if I do!

So, in case anyone is unfamiliar with the story of Jonah, it begins with Jonah minding his business and suddenly being called upon by God to go to Ninevah [the capital city of the Assyrian empire] to call them out for their sins. Instead, Jonah seals his place in my heart by running away from God.

I just find it so immediately endearing that his reaction to being given a divinely ordained job to do is to absolutely nope the fuck out and run for the hills. It's not just hilarious, but it also feels so honest? Like yeah sometimes we know rightly what we're supposed to do, either because of the leading of the spirit or because of our own morals, and sometimes it's fucking terrifying!!

So he runs away, he gets on a boat to sail off to Far Off Lands (poss. southern Turkey) and obviously... God knows. Because it's God. You can't just duck behind a tree and suddenly God forgets you're there lol And God is big mad and sends a storm that threatens to break the ship into matchsticks. The sailors are terrified - I imagine them as these hardened sea-faring men who are used to all sorts of things, and this storm is so fierce they're absolutely terrified.

And Jonah... is fast asleep. Conked the fuck out on one of the lower decks, like he isn't moments from being smithereened. Running away from God is a tiring business, I guess! Also, as a chronic procastinapper, I can't help feeling like he just felt like he had too much on his plate and decided napping is way less scary that That Whole Mess.

So the captain drags him up and demands that he pray to his god because clearly the gods of the sailors are not paying attention lol But they also want to know where the storm came from and why, so they draw lots to see who's to blame? And of course Jonah draws the short straw.

And then this bit I imagine Jonah being super sheepish about OK. Because in this era and place, it was quite normal to accept that other people's gods were real and powerful, but they just weren't your gods. But different gods have different areas of power, so the sailors ask Jonah who his god is. And very grudgingly, Jonah admits that ummm yeah ok so actually his god is... the one who created the sea and the land.

And I imagine there's this moment of absolute silence as these sailors take in the fact that this guy has pissed his god off and who's his god again? Oh yeah, only the one who MADE THE OCEAN which is currently trying to KILL THEM.

"So they picked up Jonah and hurled him into the sea."

But Jonah doesn't drown! God sends a fish to swallow him up, and he sits in the fish for three days and prays while he's in there, because actually all things considered it was pretty neat of God to send a fish to swallow him instead of letting him drown and he's like "I think maybe I have got close enough to death and I would like to stop having an adventure now and go back to being all the way alive."

Which is very cool having his time in the fish being this sort of pseudo-death? Like he was getting a little taste of it. And he even talks about it as being in Sheol, and being out of sight of God and longing to be alive and back where God can see him.

So God tells the fish to vomit him up and tells Jonah again to go to Ninevah, which this time he does! It's a huge city, it takes three days to walk across it, but Jonah made a promise and he sticks to it. He walks and talks and the city repents and God relents from whatever punishment he was going to send.

Which, in a turn that never fails to touch my heart, makes Jonah... absolutely fucking livid. He is so mad about this decision. He's like, "I fucking knew it!! I knew you weren't going to smite these fuckers!" and God is like ??? excuuuuse me ???

And Jonah - I love him so much - he storms off, he stomps out of Ninevah and builds himself a little hu and he sits in his hut and he stares at the city, wishing hellfire and damnation on everyone in it, and sulking like nobody on earth. He is raging and I love it.

But it's the fucking Assyrian desert, it's hot as balls and even in his wee hut, Jonah's got the sun beating down on him. And God makes this plant grow next to him for shade, which Jonah is pretty pleased about - until the next morning, God sends a worm that attacks the plant and kills it. And also throws in some scorching winds and fiery sun for good measure.

And Jonah's lying there about to pass out and he's like, "I would literally rather be fucking dead" and then we get my favourite exchange in the whole Bible:

But God said to Jonah, “Is it right for you to be angry about the plant?”

“It is,” he said. “And I’m so angry I wish I were dead.”

I just love it!! He's having none of it! He is furious and he is feeling more righteous and miserable than any angsty teenager ever could and he's telling God straight out, "You have pissed me off like nobody has ever pissed anyone off before" and I love him so much!!

And God points out that he's that angry about the plant dying, which he didn't even grow or tend to, but somehow it's not fair for God to not be particularly keen on destroying an entire megatropolis full of people and animals who by the way God is responsible for and cares for? Double standards much? And the book ends! It's made its point and off it fucks.

Also there's a bit at the end there where it describes the thousands and thousands of people in Ninevah as "not knowing which is their left hand and which is their right" which I assume is a metaphor for not knowing right from wrong but which I also just love as such a read. Like, "Really? You expect me not to look after these people? Look at them. They're morons, Jonah. They're the kind of morons who would think, oh, I don't know, that they could hide from God in a boat."

I just love how angry Jonah is, and how afraid, and how human! And I love that he has this sassy back and forth with God and that he gets angry at God and argues and has to get put in a fish for a time out. It feels like such a close, bickering sort of relationship and I think the world would be a better place if more people felt like they could look God in the eye and say, "YES! I AM ANGRY!! I AM SO ANGRY I COULD DIE!!!"

#the jury's out on whether or not we'll have dev doing full frontal nudity to scare off the leviathan #long post #just in case anyone actually does filter that tag #otherwise sorry not sorry here are all my thoughts and words xxxx #fun fact hebrew was the only module in undergrad that i failed and had to resit #also i was taught by a man with a very strong rural Northern Irish accent #these facts combine to mean the only thing I can now say in Hebrew is 'good morning Moses' as uttered by a Ballymenan farmer

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unpopularbunny · 2 years ago

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Chubby reader! x sanemi

warnings: MAJOR SERIES END SPOILERS!! DO NOT READ IF NOT CAUGHT UP ON THE MANGA. Mostly angst!

Thank you to the lovely beta reading by @thosestarry-nights

Taglist: @trishiepo0

Previous: <3

Next: <3

First: <3

A/N this is going to be split in two parts! Uploaded back to back! Thank you everyone for keeping up with me on this journey. I’ve never finished a fanfiction series ever in my life and this means so much to me. Thank you!!! (The timeline of things may be a little weird but don’t worry about that!)

In the end you are only a product of your fears.

Two months after Sanemi’s final departure you were showing enough that the building manager confronted you. You told her the truth, instead of her kicking you out for your transgressions, she was understanding. You were reminded of your mother. Warm hugs accompanied by the smell of your mothers perfume, feelings overwhelmed you as you cried in her arms. Shortly after that others in the house learned of your pregnancy, no one was really surprised or treated you differently regarding it.

Everyone was on edge until a messenger bird arrived.

We won.

You dropped to your knees with your face in your hands, your body shaking with sobs. The demons were wiped out and you were saved. Sanemi didn’t have to fight anymore, you didn’t have to fear going home anymore. The casualty list had yet to arrive, though you had heard enough from the first announcement. We won, but the casualties were unimaginable.

Your chest couldn’t take the news.

You were found in your bedroom, packing away the last few years of your life as if none of it had ever even happened. A few of the nurses found you, they had been drinking and celebrating. They invited you to join in their festivities even if you couldn’t drink. You waved them off and they went on their merry way, shouting and singing praises to the slayers. You merely laughed, rubbing your stomach as the baby kicked.

“You feel it too huh? I’m happy we won.” You whispered to yourself.

You heard your door open and when you turned the building manager was standing in the doorway holding a box. She presented you with children's clothes, taking out every article of clothing at a time and unfolding and showing them to you before refolding them.

“I had children once,” She started, “I had an older son, and two younger twin girls. You couldn’t get the twins to sit still even for a moment and you couldn’t get my son to leave his room, he was so absorbed in his studies.” Her smile was sincere. She didn’t say anymore beyond that and you didn’t ask.

“I no longer have a need for babies and children's clothes, so I’d like you to take them.”

“Thank you very much ma’am” You bowed your head a little, taking the box from her.

“Since there is no longer a need for these ‘safe houses’ I am dismissing the staff and giving them severance pay.” She set an envelope in front of you.

“I’d like it if you stayed.” Her voice was low.

“I can’t.” Your chest tightened, the last thing you ever wanted was to hurt her, “It’s…It’s time for me to go home.”

“Ah, I understand y/n, but don’t forget that you’re always welcome here and this place can be your home any time.” She smiled but you could see the way her eyes glistened with held back tears. She left shortly thereafter, telling you that should you need any food or supplies before you left that you were more than happy to take what you needed.

Your sleep was brief that night, your baby kicking every so often and waking you up. As soon as the sun rose you took a small cart and loaded it up with your things. The building owner saw you out and urged you to visit her because ‘An old woman like me gets lonely you know?’. A few of the remaining nurses and one of the cooks saw you off as well.

Your whole body felt electric as you left. Home seemed unreachable to you, the world seemed dangerous, but now you felt more…..at ease and safe. A few days prior you got your hands on a map and figured out a route home that wouldn’t be too taxing on your body. You weren’t worried about bandits seeing as every town you came across everyone was too busy celebrating. You used as little of the severance pay as you could along the journey, only buying necessities for the baby that you knew you might need later on.

When you returned back to your town everyone looked at you with big eyes. No one asked of course, about your slightly protruding stomach, but you could tell they all wanted to know where you’d been. Your family home was untouched, though nature was slowly overtaking the home. Tall grass and weeds winding their way onto the porch and ivy growing along the side of the house. The air seemed to still once you crossed the threshold. You felt as if you shouldn’t be there, like your presence was disturbing the peace that had settled. You left the cart at the gate, struggling a bit to open the stiff door.

“I’m home…” You softly said before making your way through the house.

Things were mostly untouched. A few wet spots from the roof leaking, some of the windows were broken but nothing appeared stolen, and there was of course, the lightly faded blood stains on the ground. Your bedroom was untouched, as was your parents and grandparents, a layer of dust coated things. You let nostalgia wash over you as you cleaned. Opening the windows and dusting things, your fathers tools were in wonderful condition. They were wrapped in cloth so they were untouched by dust and had no visible rust.

The sun began to set by the time you were done cleaning. You brought your things inside and put away what you could before your hunger got the best of you. Dinner was simple, rice and steamed vegetables. Sleep came before you realized it. Your dreams were filled with comforting memories of your family, it was as if you were still there with them instead of alone in this hollow shrine of a home.

You awoke with the sun and after a quick bath you set out to the grounds. It took you all afternoon and morning to pull all of the weeds. It was chilly outside as winter was fast approaching, you figured if you did a good amount of work now you’d have to do less come spring. Every so often you’d see someone out of the corner of your eye having stopped and watched you work, but no one came to actually talk to you. You took brief breaks when the kicking in your stomach became too much.

The backyard where all of the produce was grown was another story altogether. Violently overgrown and invasive weeds grew everywhere. The nearly rebuilt shed mocked you from the corner of the grounds, an unfortunate reminder that you were still alone. But you pressed on.

——————-

It took days for anyone to approach you.

It was a friend of your grandmothers. A lovely old woman, a smile on her face, and a basket in her hands. You were on your knees in the garden when she found you. She urged you too take a break from working so hard and that you two should relax and catch up. You had tea with her on the porch, the basket was all kinds of goodies and vegetables for which you thanked her profusely as you were beginning to run out. She told you that everyone assumed that you succumbed to your injuries. The worst you’d gotten was a scar on your shoulder, but so far no lifelong side affects.

You told her about your job at the safety house, about the kind owner, and the colorful people you worked with. You omitted the part about you and Sanemi’s ‘relationship’ seeing as anyone had yet to accuse or ask if you were pregnant. She said it was wonderful to have you back and that she knows your family would be proud for all the good you’ve done in the world. You cried, she patted your back and left shortly after.

Soon you were constantly flooded with guests.

Old friends and flames trying to reconnect, you kept your distance from everyone, not knowing what their intentions were. Some of the villagers caved, asking you to do minor carpentry tasks for them. You barely made it through winter, but you couldn’t hide your secret forever. Three of the elder women that were very close with your grandmother would visit often, almost every day, just to check on you and bring you anything that you needed. Tonight was such a night as all three women joined you for dinner, making all kinds of dishes. You didn’t hold back on your cravings, not noticing how they all smiled at you fondly while you ate.

“How far along are you?” One said

You choked on the food you were eating.

“Yes! I’ve been saying it was a girl but no one believes me!” Someone chimed in from your left.

“That’s because no one would believe an old senile witch like you.” All three cackled while you coughed and wiped your mouth while looking at the three old women with wide eyes.

“How did you-“

“Oh come on Y/N! Did you really think you could just hide that you were pregnant that easily? I mean sure, you’re more filled out, but you can’t hide anything from us.” They all giggled, agreeing with her.

I mean, of course you couldn’t hide it forever, you were just so focused on rebuilding your family home that you neglected to face this. They all comforted you that night, giving you advice and assuring that they would be there to assist in the birth. One of them dared to ask where the father was, you couldn’t tell them that you didn’t know, so you told them a lie that eased your conscience.

“H-He was a slayer that passed away in battle….” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth.

They cooed and comforted you through most of the night after that, all of them telling different stories about how they managed just fine after their husbands either passed away or left them. They assured you that you wouldn’t go through this alone. They would be there every step of the way and even after, as the first few months after birth are often the hardest.

____________

As winter raged and began to melt away, everyone else found out relatively fast. Your stomach was much more rounder and protruding, your hips ached as you walked, and your back throbbed and ached no matter what sleeping position you took. One of the elder women decided to stay at the house with you to help and prepare. She forced her son to help, who tried to resist at first but his grandmother's guilt weighed down on him. Mostly in the form of words ‘She’s a single mother! She can do twice the work you can! You can’t even help this much?’ Though he whined he gave in easily.

You grew frustrated day by day, whoever was over to help only remained in your way as you tried to rebuild the garden bed. Taking tools from you and ushering you out of the sun. When you voiced your concern the women wouldn’t back down, insisting that you must cherish your body if you hope to make it through the birth. They taught you breathing exercises and massaged your ankles no matter how embarrassed you felt. You gave in eventually, directing the helpers and teaching them the same skills your grandparents taught you.

It was a comfortable day when everything changed.

You had managed to convince them to let you work on the garden, just a little bit. The sun was out but it wasn’t beating down on your back, the breeze was cool, and the harvest was beginning to look wonderful. You were pulling on a weed, the root was so far down that once it finally came out of the ground you fell back onto your butt. One of the women on the porch called out to you asking if you were okay, however when you went to confirm you noticed that the ground was wet beneath you. And things hadn’t been watered yet.

Face burning with embarrassment, you yelled out that you peed yourself and didn’t feel it. The three elderly women rose and made a beeline for you, yelling for someone to help you get up. Once on your feet they were drilling you with questions. Even when you tried to answer, the first contraction started and you only doubled over and tried not to scream. You were helped inside while they organized a place for you to lay. Warm water and towels at the ready, they undressed you and made sure you were clean before trying to get you to practice pushing while laying down. Your whole body was beginning to fight and you wanted to pass out from it all. Your hair clung to your face with sweat as you screamed and tried your best. You lost track of time between pushing and becoming disoriented. You could barely make out their arguing.

“I told you it’s not going to work! She has to stand!”

What? Stand?

With the help of one of their daughters you were made to stand and grip a rope that was hung from the ceiling beam. They assisted you with squatting , one of them holding your back to keep you steady. They urged you to push, they encouraged you and praised you. The room began to spin, but you had to try, you had to keep trying. You couldn’t even feel yourself pushing, but you did feel when it stopped. The pain was gone. Relief overtook you and your body began to give out. As your conscience was faded out you swore, just for a moment, that you saw her.

Your mother.

_________

You felt like you slept for days and days. Your dream was brief and your body felt so heavy. In your dream you were sitting on the porch with your mother, watching your grandparents work. Your mother had cut up some watermelon and you were drinking long cooled green tea.

“You’ve done such a good job Y/N” Her voice is just as you remembered.

“But I ran away…from you…home….and even him.” The watermelon was so sweet.

“You lived.” The breeze feels so cool on your face as she speaks, “You’ve spread my mothers knowledge as well as your fathers and you never gave up.” She sounds so sincere. Your grandmother waves at you and you wave back as everything around you begins to blur.

“Never for a moment did we doubt you,” She takes you in her arms, you haven’t felt this safe in years, “Carry the love we gave you and never let it go.” She wipes your tears and her hands are so soft and warm, you can smell her perfume and all its earthy tones.

As the world dissolves away around you, you see your family wave goodbye from behind her.

And then you woke up.

___________

You’re back in your bed, or rather, your parents bed, you moved in there to turn your old bedroom into a nursery. Two of the older women are nearby sitting against the wall, one having fallen asleep with her head on the other's shoulder. You notice the room is eerily silent for a baby having just been born. When you struggle to sit up you can feel every part of your being ache, even when you blink. But you don’t feel tired, not one bit.

The door opens and enters the missing woman and she holds a bundle in her arms. You feel so scared, and you know your face shows it. The other two wake up and rush to your side, asking how you feel and trying to get you to eat and drink, but you don’t answer them. You merely hold your arms out for your baby. She approaches and kneels, showing you what your body worked so hard to create.

“It’s a boy.” She whispered.

He feels so heavy in your arms. His hair is white and you can’t hold back the tears anymore. They all surround and hug you, reminding you that you’re not alone.

You’re not alone.

“What are you going to name him?”

You think about that, it takes a bit, but you have the perfect name for him.

_____________

The final battle destroyed everyone’s very being. They won, of course, after the fiercest battle they ever attempted. Many of the slayers died in the throes of battle, tengen wasn’t even included in the battle considering he was missing one of his arms. Sanemi watched his own brother be bisected and fade away from his very palms. Genya told sanemi that he was the nicest brother in the world.

Sanemi still sees his face in his dreams.

The few permanent ‘scars’ he had from the final battle blended in with his past scars. Save for the windmill on his cheek that other slayers got after interacting with Tanjiro, though everyone’s was different.

He slept for a month.

The nurses called it a coma but he said he was just tired and he needed to leave NOW. All of his physical wounds were healed, but he still needed to be cleared by a different kind of doctor. It took him another month to finally be discharged. Tengen offered him a place to stay but he said he had other things to do. Tengen wasn’t stupid and knew what sanemi was after.

You.

When sanemi came to the safe house he was met by overgrown grounds and a missing staff. Your room was empty and when the building owner came to him to see what the ruckus was, she merely raised an eyebrow.

“Where is she?!” He was panicking. You said you would wait for him.

“She went home.”

“Well where the fuck is that?!” His hands were tingling.

She shakes her head, informing him that she didn’t know. She wanted to ask if he knew about the baby but if he didn’t know where she went, he couldn’t have known about that. After throwing more curse words at her he leaves. He doesn’t even know where to begin.

No matter who he asked, where he went, he couldn’t find you. It was almost as if you weren’t real and it was wearing down on him greatly. He’d take breaks for a few weeks, seeing some of his former Hashirama. He never stayed in one place for long never wanting to let go of the determination to find you.

He spent so long looking for you, time didn’t matter to him. Before long, five years had passed right by the both of you.

_____________

The recovery from the birth was much harder than actually giving birth. They showed you how to breast feed and change diapers. They explained the changes your body will endure and guided you through the dark tunnel of post partum depression. The moments when you felt you couldn’t call yourself a mother, they would deny you this right. Telling you that you birthed him all the same. You were the sun and he was the sky. That's right.

You’re precious little Sora.

He grew faster than you expected, through summer and by the time winter came he was holding onto the wall and guiding himself around your home. When he learned to speak he tried to speak like the elderly ladies who helped you raise him. His hair was wild and as white as the clouds in the sky.

Once they decided you were fit enough to work the farm mostly alone they began to limit their visits, not that you were bothered by this.

By the time his second birthday came around, he was beside you in the garden trying to pull weeds. As much as you wanted to urge him to go play with other children, you knew he only wanted to help. So you let him. You even dug him his own special garden. He would kneel with you while you prayed at the family shrine. You would mostly apologize when you first got home, but now you were telling them every single update with sora.

He was shy and reserved, he dreaded when the old women would visit, anticipating cheek pinches. He didn’t mind when they gave him lots of snacks and brought him toys here and there. You would tell him endless stories of your parents and grandparents. You didn’t shy away from telling him about death and told him they were always watching. Being a mother wasn’t easy of course, sora broke things and would act out and throw tantrums every once in a while.

You wouldn’t hit nor yell.

You’d make him clean his messes up. You’d make sure he apologized if he said something that would hurt your feelings and explain why those things hurt your feelings. You’d be there to guide and teach, not embarrass and beat.

When he turned four some of the kids from the village would begin to visit your farm, kindly asking if Sora could play. Your heart would swell at the sight of him bounding off with his friends. Sometimes they would stay there and play in his room or even ask you about aspects of the farm. He was still reserved and sweet, but you could see him begin to come out of his shell.

You too began to change along with your son.

You sold your produce in town and did carpentry jobs. People would comment on how your work was just as wonderful as your fathers and you would bow and thank them. Your produce always sold well and sora would only become more and more eager to help you at your stall.

__________

The village was bustling, more people having moved in and newer houses being built. Just the other day someone had come to your door and informed you that a school was being built. Sora stood behind you, clinging to your dress and only sneaking glances at the man speaking to you. The man gave you a flier, telling you that you were more than welcome to enroll your son once the fall season comes.

The following day your stall had more customers than usual, so you told Sora he could take some money and go buy himself some treats. You were so busy taking care of customers that it took you a moment to notice someone staring at you, eyes boring into you. When you caught his gaze you made a confused face. You’d never seen this man before. He was beautiful, yes, but something about him seemed….familiar. Upon looking at him some more, you noticed that he was missing an arm. He smiled at you and you smiled back.

“Hello, what could your name be?” His voice was lilting and mischievous, as if he’d found something he shouldn’t have. So you tell him and his smile only grows wider.

“What a lovely name!” He doesnt hide his amusement.

Before you could ask him his name he proceeds to buy quite a bit of your inventory. Once you helped him load it up into the small cart he paid you more for your help, you couldn’t thank him enough. When he went to leave you saw a white blur of hair run and smack into his leg. You inwardly groan because you know exactly what happened.

“Sora, are you okay?” You help your son to his feet, “Sir I am so sorry for my son, he’s-“

Tengen immediately tunes you out, his eyes locked on sora instead. The shape of Sora’s eyes and that striking hair are not easily missed. Not to mention you’re the prized treasure his colleague has been looking for. Once you’re done talking he holds his hand up and smiles.

“No problem at all ma’am.” His smile is sly and not missed by you, “Kids will be kids.” He laughs and you follow along.

After he departs you scold sora lightly, reminding him to watch his surroundings before he gets seriously hurt. He apologizes and you let him go back off with his friends.

The rest of the day is a blur as you’re lost in your thoughts trying to place where you’ve seen that man before.

_____________

Upon returning home, tengen tells his wives he has an important mission for them all.

To find Sanemi.

They all look at him like he’s lost his mind but when he informs them that the very thing he’s been looking for has been found and has a bonus with her, they’re invested. They treat it as any other mission, following different leads and determined, if anything, to cause a ruckus as their husband does.

Makio finds sanemi first.

He’s resting at an inn on some mountainside she didn’t bother remembering the name of. She sneaks into his room, finding it empty and huffs, musing to herself that she couldn’t believe she missed him. Unfortunately, the knife pressed against her back says she came at the right time.

“Why the fuck are you here?” He’s tired and agitated.

“Tengen says he wants to see you!” She can barely hold back the excitement in her tone.

“No.” He pulls the knife down.

“He said it’s about ‘some woman’ you’ve been obsessing over.”

He feels like he can’t breathe and he wastes no time packing up and leaving with her. The journey is short, as sanemi doesn’t stop to rest at all. Even when Makio complained and insisted they take a break, he threatened to leave her there.

He marches through tengen’s home, not taking his shoes off, not greeting anyone, stomping his way through until he finds him. Meanwhile Makio gets reacquainted with her bath and bed. Tengen is relaxing with suma and Hinatsuru. Sanemi looks a little worse for wear and the sight of the lovesick dog makes tengen chuckle.

“Sanemi~ You’ll never guess what i found~” He teases sanemi, who has no patience and hasn’t had any since he woke up in the hospital.

“I will rip your other fucking arm off if you don’t tell me where she is!” His voice echos and tengen and his wives are unaffected by the aggression. He holds out a little slip of paper that sanemi snatches and turns to leave.

“You’re gonna like the surprise that you find!” He calls after him but sanemi pays no mind.

_______________

Sanemi really tries to get there without stopping, but eventually exhaustion gets the better of him and he stays at an inn on the way. When he does arrive at your village, well, now a ‘town’ with all the new advancements that are being made. He sees things that you’d described to him. He doesn’t know where you are and doesn’t hesitate asking. He sees three older women sitting together nearby, having tea and chatting. They’re the first ones he asks about you and they ask who he is before giving any information.

He tells them he’s a good friend.

They hesitate but tell him and he could almost kiss them he’s so thankful.

The gateway to your farm is just as he imagined when you described little details, he runs his hand over the carvings your father created when he repaired it. The grounds were well taken care of, expected of you and the skills you had. He was frozen at the doorway. Every feeling he had for you was hitting the roof and going to spill out. He was so angry because you didn’t stay, so confused as to why you wouldn’t even leave him a letter telling him where you went, and so scared of what he would find. Have you moved on? All of the thoughts were overwhelming him. He couldn’t believe what he was doing.

He snuck around and into the back.

He saw how beautifully you’d tended to the land, he saw the shed that you had repaired and took notice of all the small things he’d been told.

He even noticed you, with sora.

Your back was facing him, not that you’d be able to see him of course. You were crouched and showing sora something Sanemi couldn’t see. The white hair wasn’t a detail that was missed on him. You stood up and said something before walking off into the house. Once you were out of sight Sanemi watched as sora began to pull things out of the ground, carrots. He was pulling them carelessly and leaving them on the ground. One was too big and harder to pull out. One it came out sora fell back and the carrot was out of his hands.

On the ground a few feet in front of sanemi.

He’s frozen as sora runs over to pick it up. Sora stares at sanemi, sanemi feels like he’s staring at a picture of himself as a child. Save for his eyes, sora's eyes were the same as yours. Sanemi took a step back and wanted to run before you came back and saw him but he couldn’t.

Sora grabbed his wrist and the almighty Sanemi Shinazugawa, a famed hashira, the last wind pillar before the corps were disbanded, was powerless as he was pulled along by a five year old. Sora was firing off questions at him ‘who are you? Where are you from? We have the same hair! Are you here to see mama?’ Sanemi couldn’t answer a single one.

You come out the back door holding a basket that you planned to give to Sora to collect the carrots in but you dropped the basket as soon as you stepped out. Sanemi had the same look of bewilderment on his face as Sora kept talking and pulling him. You looked more beautiful than when he last saw you. Your hair was longer and your body got a little more fuller, but he could still see the same stars in your eyes that he’d been chasing this entire time.

“Y/N I-“ Sanemi didn’t know what to say, not that he had a chance.

Because you ran.

Back into the house and into your bedroom, shutting the door and locking it. You lean back against the door, your heart thundering in your chest and your legs feeling weak. Just like that, every memory of sanemi hits you like a train. Every moment you two whispered secrets, the way he’d run his hands all over you, and even the first and only time he’s said he loved you. You slide down and clench at your chest, trying to calm down and take deep breaths. There was a banging on your door, one that you recognized.

“Mama! You said to be polite when guests visit!” Sora scolded you from the other side of the door. You knew that he wasn’t the only one waiting on the other side.

“Go finish pulling the carrots!” You call and after him trying to debate with you he huffs and stomps off.

Sanemi taps on the door gently, carefully, just to be fragile with you like he always has. It’s as if all the anger and resentment melted away the moment he saw you. He turns and leans against the door, sliding down to sit against it. Without it there you two would be sitting back to back. Neither of you know what to say, so you start.

“Shinazugawa-San I-“

“That’s not my name. I thought we agreed you’d call me by my name the last time we talked.” His voice is soft and he even laughs a bit at the end.

“I’m sorry….”

“Is he mine?” He sounded hesitant and you scoffed.

“Are you really asking that? Do you see his hair? Do you think I’d want to be with anyone else?” You aren’t thinking as you speak.

“Yes.” His voice is small. Of course he thought that! As much as the thought made his skin prick, he had to entertain the idea that maybe when he found you, you had moved on, “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“I was scared.” He scoffed at your response.

“Of what?”

“Having to face if you had died.”

“Well I didn’t”

“Yeah I know that now!” You snap out of irritation.

He's silent and so are you. Both of you trying to figure out how to pick everything back up, considering you two skipped a few steps and now had a son.

“Sora’s a weird name.” He remarked.

“Yeah well you weren’t here to name him” You grumbled, and it must have struck a nerve.

“Well I didn’t know you were pregnant!” You flinch and bring your knees to your chest.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d stay and if you stayed and didn’t help in the final battle, you’d never forgive yourself. I couldn’t be that selfish.”

He said nothing. Because you were right. If you’d told him he’d stayed and what would the outcome have been without him? What would’ve become of the world then?

You hear the wind blow and you know that you can’t keep yourself locked in this room forever, but you’re so scared of your own emotions.

“How did you find me?”

“Tengen.” He didn’t sound too happy to say that.

“Eh? I don’t remember seeing him.” You try to pinpoint in your memory if you’ve seen a flashy pretty boy recently.

“He has one arm now so it’s kind of hard to miss.” One moment sanemi is upright and talking and the next you slide the door open and the back of his head hurts from where it hit the ground.

“The man that Sora bumped into weeks ago?!” You finally start to realize why that man was so amused at the sight of sora, Sanemi laughs at your reaction.

“You’re still beautiful.” His voice wraps around you just like it used to. Low and grating, making your face flush.

You don’t think you can run from him this time.

#bunni #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kny x you #kny x reader insert #sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x you #chubby!reader #reader x sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny smut #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #chubby!reader x anime #chubby!reader x sanemi

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theteasetwrites · 3 years ago

Text

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 83: Safe Hands

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of past sexual assault/trauma ❧ Word Count: 6.2k

❧ In This Chapter: Daryl and company return from an arduous, but mostly successful, journey to Meridian for food. Celebrations die down quickly, however, when an unknown group approaches Alexandria's weakened walls. Your community is faced with a decision, and you're faced with the responsibility of breaking some news to Daryl.

❧ A/N: So this chapter is like 25% plot, 75% fluff (with plot-relevant stuff in there, of course). The Alexandrians get their first introduction to the Commonwealth, and I'm pretty excited to get into that storyline. Also, can we just appreciate how amazing Daryl is in this chapter for a sec? I mean, he really is on his king shit. We stan a supportive, protective, emotionally-available man. I just love writing Daryl as a deeply emotional person who only hides it because he wants to appear strong. He can cry! He does cry! He cries here! Let men cry! Crying is sexy! He cries because he empathizes with his wife, because he's a goddamn legend.

“Mommy, they’re back! Daddy and Aunt Maggie are back!”

She had come running up the stairs, skipping every other step as she did, just to tell you the news.

Maggie, Daryl, and the others who had gone on the dangerous mission to Meridian to reclaim the food that had been stolen from Maggie’s group had returned to Alexandria, bringing with them a wagon-load of fresh fruit and vegetables.

Of course, some didn’t make it.

As you approached the gate with Lydia and Robin, Dog came running up to you first, standing on his hind legs and resting his front paws on your chest to greet you.

“Hi, buddy!” you laughed, and Dog wasted no time in licking your face, but you weren’t too upset about it this time. As much as the dog got you into trouble, you had to admit, you missed the little guy. “Oh, God!”

Robin was in the arms of her father when you finally got the dog to calm down, and Lydia was rushing to hug him next. It immediately felt so whole, him being home again, and with such an impressive loot from the journey.

“Whoa!” said Robin, looking over her father’s shoulder at the immense stockpile of food on the wagon. “That’s a lot of food.”

“It is,” agreed Daryl, looking between the wagon and his excited child’s face. “You want an apple?”

“Yes, please,” she said sweetly.

He pulled off the giant basket of apples with a grunt, and handed Robin the first green apple before letting Judith, RJ, and all the other children have one.

“Just one,” he said before making his way over to you, and holding out the basket for you to pick from. “Hey.”

You smiled somewhat bashfully, always much too enchanted by him, considering you’d been together for ten years. Still, it didn’t matter how long you were with each other, you would always be charmed by his rugged good looks and his kind, beautiful heart, which was what got you in the first place.

“Hi,” you giggled. You had to force your eyes off his and linger down to the basket, where dozens of freshly picked green apples just waited to be eaten. “Hm, this one looks nice.”

Immediately after you grabbed your apple and took the first bite, he wrapped you up in his arms, rocking you back and forth and nearly causing the apple to fly out of your hands.

“Missed ya, angel,” he whispered before kissing your cheek. “How ya feelin’?”

Pregnant.

Well, you didn’t say that. It wasn’t the time, considering Daryl just got home from what looked to be a rough trip. You yourself had only just found out you were pregnant a few hours ago, and it was still a bit of a shock to you.

“Fine,” you sighed, closing your eyes as the scent of his hair flooded your nostrils. “I missed you, too.”

He gave you one last kiss on your cheek before pulling back to examine you, trying to see if you were a little less fragile than last he saw you.

“You get some food in ya?”

“Mhm,” you said proudly, then pointed towards Lydia, who was helping Robin and the others unload some more food from the wagon. “Lydia and I did pretty good at the mill. Made some lentil soup last night. Wasn’t much but it was better than we had in a while. This, though… This is amazing, honey.”

He shrugged and gave you his best half-smile.

“Lost a lot of people, though,” he said.

You nodded solemnly, and looked around to see who hadn’t made it, and who had. From a cursory glance, it seemed the surviving group consisted of Daryl, Maggie, Gabriel, Elijah, and Alden.

That meant the other people from Maggie’s group didn’t make it, and Negan…

“Where’s Negan, Daddy?” asked Robin, worriedly looking around for the man.

You waited with bated breath for the answer, too. No matter how much you hated what he did, you weren’t sure anymore if you hated him. He had proved himself loyal to Alexandria and your people, so maybe you were a little sad to see he hadn’t returned.

“He left, birdie,” he said, rubbing Robin’s head in an attempt to console her. She liked Negan more than anyone else in your family did, perhaps even more than Lydia did. “Just decided he didn’t wanna be here no more.”

“Will he come back?” she asked, her lips pouting as she spoke.

“I dunno,” he said.

“Negan will be fine,” you assured her. “Daddy’s home, that’s the most important thing.”

“And Dog,” insisted Robin, leaning down to pet the loyal canine’s head between his pointed ears. “Dog’s important, too.”

You laughed as you felt Daryl’s arm snake around your waist and pull you in for another kiss on your cheek. He seemed so happy to be home, happy to have brought back such a bounty for you and the rest of his community, his family.

His wide grin faded, however, when Jerry bellowed from the top of the guard post overlooking the entrance to Alexandria.

It startled you, causing both you and Daryl to look in the direction of the gate.

“Hey!” yelled Jerry. “Got something coming!”

As if a switch had been flipped, Daryl moved quickly to grab his crossbow, and laid a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Stay here,” he said. “I mean it.”

Despite your tendency to not listen to the words “stay here” when Daryl spoke them, you listened this time, standing in front of Robin and tugging the knife you always kept on you from the holster on your belt.

“Stay behind me,” you told her, Dog standing beside you with his ears perked up and the fur on his back beginning to raise when Daryl’s voice boomed from the guard post.

“Everyone! Get ready!”

All you could hear were the distant neighing of horses, and all you could see was Daryl, Maggie, and Jerry on top of that guard post, aiming their weapons at whatever was coming towards your vulnerable settlement.

To your immense surprise, several minutes later, Eugene came walking through the gate, with a small army of people in white and red body armor. Amongst them was a wagon, filled with drums of ethanol fuel.

Despite the relief of seeing Eugene for the first time since before he left to find help at a new community, you kept Robin behind you, your eyes cautious and narrowed intently at the strange, militaristic ensemble.

Daryl came climbing down the guard post moments later, fast-walking towards you.

“What is this?” you asked him.

“Eugene brought ‘em here,” he panted. “Says they wanna talk.”

It was then you saw a figure amongst the oddly dressed soldiers, a very clean-cut, middle-aged man in a suit and tie, with combed back hair and a jaunt in his step that seemed borderline surreal to you.

You hadn’t seen a man like that since before the world fell. You were sure you hadn’t seen a man in a suit in at least ten years. No one in Alexandria even owned suits like that, and no one looked so polished.

You had your dresses and your jewelry and your basic makeup, but even with those things, you maintained a sense of necessary practicality, modifying your dresses to have loops for belts and your holsters, and sewing on additional pockets. This man, though, looked straight out of a high-end men’s fashion magazine.

Though you eyed the man suspiciously, it seemed he did only want to talk. He was introduced by Eugene as Lance Hornsby, diplomatic representative of a place in Ohio called the Commonwealth. That was the name of the settlement Eugene, Yumiko, and Ezekiel had found.

When Lance spoke for himself, he spoke like a politician, someone who knew all the right things to say.

“Thank you for allowing us into your home,” he said, standing before the entire community among the remains of the center of town. There were piles of burnt walkers and debris scattered about from both the horde and the storm. The juxtaposition of the rather unattractive state of Alexandria with the pristine and polished look of Lance Hornsby was not lost on you.

“I must say that I am impressed with everything you’ve built here, and what I’ve heard of your other communities, but it’s clear…” He turned to look around the once lush, green garden that had been trampled upon and turned brown with death. “You’ve fallen on hard times.”

That was an understatement.

“And that is where the Commonwealth is more than willing to help.”

You shuffled nervously, holding Robin’s shoulders with shaky hands as she stood before you.

“If you remain, we can provide labor and materials to help you build back all you’ve lost.”

That seemed interesting to you, but there had to be a catch. There was always a catch. No one gave things away for free, not even these days. Especially not these days.

You ventured to look at Daryl, who stood beside you, eyes narrowed and hands in his pockets. He didn’t trust him, you could tell, and if Daryl didn’t trust someone, it was probably a good indication that you shouldn’t either.

“However,” he said, “if any are interested, I do have another, potentially more interesting choice to offer.”

“So, what do you think?”

He let out a strained grunt as he stretched his arms, yawning wide while your hands continued massaging his tense, tightly drawn muscles on his back.

“Dunno,” he said. “Don’t really trust this… Horny guy.”

You snorted and squeezed his shoulders at the misnomer.

“Hornsby,” you corrected. “And I didn’t ask if you trust him, I asked what you think. About moving to the Commonwealth, temporarily.”

He huffed as he felt your hands suddenly rubbing your homemade flaxseed lotion on his back, paying special attention to his scars, though you knew nothing could heal them, it still made you feel better, and Daryl liked the unnecessary pampering, as much as he hated to admit it.

“Not sure,” he answered quietly, his voice turning soft as it often did when he felt unsure. “Lots to do here, lot of fixing.”

“They said they’re going to send people and supplies to help, even if some of us do leave… It’ll get done no matter what.”

In truth, you didn’t want to leave Alexandria at all. It was your home, and you weren’t ready to give it up, but there were a few things pushing you towards moving to the Commonwealth while Alexandria was being rebuilt.

For starters, there was Robin. Living in Alexandria was dangerous now that the walls were weakened, and your house was in desperate need of fixing. And then there was the matter of food, which was still in short supply. If a lot of people relocated to the Commonwealth, it would put a lot less strain on the food situation.

And of course, there was the main draw: the hospital.

Lance had handed out brochures that day, advertising the amenities in the Commonwealth. What shocked you was the fact that the place could print out brochures in the first place.

Printers? you had thought. What kind of place is this?

Photographs on the brochure were even more bewildering, showcasing shops and restaurants and schools and theaters… It was like a real city. People in the Commonwealth had real jobs, too, and made money.

Money. Now that alarmed you a little, and seemed a little too much like the old world.

Still, there was a real, working hospital, with real, working surgeons and people who knew how to deliver babies, or, maybe, people who could terminate a pregnancy.

Though you didn’t trust this Hornsby guy either, and you thought the uniforms of their military were a bit much, you had a feeling that staying at the Commonwealth for the time being would be the best for your family, and for your community.

It would help, too, to be able to prove to the Commonwealth that your people were able to be “productive members of society,” and that helping out at Alexandria was worthwhile.

Convincing Daryl, however, might take some work.

“Ain’t givin’ up on Alexandria,” he said. “No way.”

“No one wants to give up on Alexandria. I certainly don’t,” you replied. “It would only be temporary, until everything is back up and running here.”

He turned to face you with a furrowed brow. “You wanna live there?”

“No,” you sighed. “Well, I don’t know. I think it would be good for Robin, good for Alexandria. It’s safer there.”

He nodded in agreement, and maneuvered himself on the bed to lay his head down in your lap, where you absentmindedly stroked his hair, still a little damp from his shower.

“Yeah, it’d be good for the kids.” He looked up to face you, and began twirling his fingers around the belt of your pink velveteen robe. “What about you?”

You tilted your head at his questioning. “What about me?”

“I mean, you love it here. You got your library, all your stuff… Everything you ever wanted. Thought you’d be the least likely to wanna leave.”

Indeed, that was all true, and maybe if you weren’t pregnant, you wouldn’t want to try living at the Commonwealth as much as you did, but you were pregnant, and that combined with every other factor was making you lean towards the Commonwealth, for now.

“I want to live here for the rest of my life,” you said. “With you and Robin and Aaron and everyone else, but right now, I think this might be the right thing. Now, will you tell me what you think? Where’s my blunt, straightforward husband who always calls the shots, huh? I’m usually the indecisive one.”

He smiled up at you dreamily, and blinked his eyes slowly as he thought. You only wondered what was going on inside that head of his.

When he answered, though, he was anything but straightforward, returning your question with another.

“Why do you really wanna go?” he asked. “I know you want Robin to be safe, and to help out, but it ain’t just that. I know that face, I've seen it before. There’s somethin’ you ain’t tellin’ me.”

You laughed nervously, and shook your head at the questioning, though you knew you were going to have to tell him tonight. Part of you just wanted to stall, and wait until just the right moment. So, that’s what you did, albeit with less grace than usual.

“You’re so cute, you know that?”

He lifted his head from your lap and narrowed his eyes. “Come on, (Y/N). Ain’t workin’ this time.”

You sighed. “Okay, you got me. There is something.”

You fell silent, and Daryl raised an eyebrow, lifting your chin to force you to look at him directly.

“(Y/N),” he said softly. “There ain’t nothin’ you can’t tell me, angel.”

You smiled sweetly at the old pet name that never failed to send your heart aflutter.

It’s time, you thought. Don’t worry. It’s Daryl. He loves you. He won’t leave you.

You straightened your back and let out a deep huff, then decided upon starting on a happy note that you were sure he’d appreciate.

“Well,” you said, trailing your fingers delicately up his tanned, bulky arm, and flashing him your sweetest pair of doe eyes he’d ever seen, “do you remember the night we found each other again, after the cave?”

He looked confused for a moment, unsure of why you were bringing up the memory, but then he broke out into a crooked, boyish smile, thinking back to that wonderful night the two of you made love for hours on end. Yes, he might’ve gone a little overboard, but it was worth it.

“Hell yeah, I do,” he said. “Wish every night could be like that.”

You broke out into a girlish giggle, sweeping your hair behind your ear and clearing your throat when you remembered the task at hand.

“Me too,” you said. “But, do you remember… what we did?”

He scoffed. Of course he remembered, it was pretty hard to forget.

“Yeah,” he said. “We went at it like rabbits. What, you want a repeat, princess?”

He reached forward to tickle your stomach, and you slapped his hands away, giggling as you fell back onto the pillow. He grunted as he attacked your neck, sucking on your skin and attempting to leave a love bite.

“Daryl,” you huffed, your voice turning serious. “Stop it.”

He lifted his head to look at you, now concerned once again. “Stop beatin’ around the bush. What is it?”

For a particularly observant man, he really didn’t know when you were trying to tell him certain things. In particular, he couldn’t tell when you were trying to tell him something he didn’t want to hear.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, keeping them shut tight so as not to see his face when you told him. “I’m pregnant.”

He was silent, and didn’t move a muscle, only looked all over your face to see if there was any indication you were joking. You weren’t, he could tell.

You ventured to slowly open your eyes, breathing harder with the suspense of not knowing his reaction.

He had a blank expression, but his lips spread apart and his eyes blinked rapidly.

“What?”

You huffed and reached your hands up to hold his shoulders, as if afraid he’d leave you.

“I’m pregnant.”

He went quiet again, his body stiff under your soft fingers.

“I think that’s why I’ve been so out of it,” you said, trying to bring Daryl back to Earth. “I guess the food situation doesn’t help.”

“Y-you, uh… You sure?”

You nodded slowly, still trying to gauge his reaction. “Yes. I took five tests, they all came back positive.”

He scooted back and let out a long huff, closing his eyes and holding his head in his hands.

“Baby?” you said shakily. A lump formed in your throat, and all you wanted to do was to break down crying, but you had to know how he felt before you could. “Are you okay?”

“Just, uh… Just give me a sec. Gotta process this.”

You nodded slowly, swallowing hard to send the lump in your throat back from whence it came.

When he raised his head, he looked terrified, a look you’d only seen on his face a handful of times.

You scooted forward, to take his hand in yours. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I know we didn’t want this.”

Daryl pulled his hand away in a jerking motion, and stood up to his feet, pacing around the bed back and forth for a while as every horrible thought of how he’d react next ran through your head.

“Daryl,” you sighed, “please say something. I can’t take this.”

He stopped abruptly, looking up at the ceiling as he wiped his face in frustration.

“That’s why you wanna go to Commonwealth?” he asked. He turned to face you, stoic as usual. “To have the baby?”

You lowered your head and shrugged. “That’s one reason, yeah. Or, um… I don’t know, maybe someone there could… abort it, possibly.”

He hadn’t even thought of that option, and hearing it out loud sent a surge of dizziness through him, forcing him to sit at the end of the bed, his back facing you.

“That what you want?”

You sighed and moved down the bed to tentatively hold him from behind, needing to feel his warmth and the comfort he always gave you, and for him to never, ever leave.

“I—I don’t know,” you said honestly. “We agreed we didn’t want another baby, so I just never thought about it. Now I’m thinking about it, but I’m not sure.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Never even thought about it since we talked about it, back when we had birdie.”

“Yeah… So, what do you think? It’s your baby, too.”

He shook his head and pulled your arms tighter around his waist, turning his head to face you.

“Don’t matter what I think. You’re the one who’s gotta carry it.”

It was then you knew you married the best man in the whole world. Well, you always knew that, but it was just another reminder. If God really did exist, he put all the kindness and sweetness and compassion into the man before you.

That only made you want to have this baby even more, incidentally, but you still valued what he wanted, especially since you knew he didn’t want another baby. At least, before this.

“Daryl,” you said, “of course it matters what you think. It matters to me, anyway.”

“Nah,” he replied with another shake of his head. “I’m followin’ your lead on this one. You call the shots. Whatever you decide, I’m gonna be right there with ya, no matter what.”

God, you thought to yourself. He is so good.

With a bright smile, accompanied by light, happy tears, you hugged him tight, kissing his cheek firmly all the while before finishing the smooch with an exaggerated “mwah” sound effect.

“Thank you,” you said through a small giggle. “Well, um… in that case, I was thinking, maybe if we stay at the Commonwealth, we can see a doctor there, see what’s going on in there.” You gestured to your belly, still at its normal size, as you must’ve not been more than a month pregnant. “Then see what our options are.”

“No doubt about it anymore,” he said. “We’re goin’. Whether you decide to keep it or…” He lowered his head, slightly saddened by the thought of losing a baby he made with you, but willing to go along with whatever you would decide. “Either way,” he continued, “we’re goin’. It’s safer there, for you and the kids.”

Your brows furrowed at that, wondering if he meant Robin and Dog, or Robin and the Grimes children, or Robin and the unborn child inside of you.

“Won’t have to worry about the walls, and the food,” he said with a nod, as if trying to convince himself. “Least till they fix up Alexandria.”

“Definitely,” you agreed. “Soon as Alexandria’s safe again, I want to come back. I don’t know if I could stand living at this…” You reached over to grab the brochure from the nightstand. “Utopia. Just seems off. I mean, look at these stupid outfits. Who would be caught dead wearing that?”

You sat yourself by Daryl and pointed to an image of the Commonwealth police force, dressed in that bulky white and red armor you’d seen earlier.

As your eyes scanned the brochure, you felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer so he could kiss your cheek, making you giggle at the sweet, familiar feeling of his beard hairs against your skin.

“Mmm,” you hummed in satisfaction at his affection. “So I guess you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” he asked softly against your ear. “I’m shittin’ my pants, ‘cause I’m gonna worry like hell about you, but I ain’t mad. Not at all.”

“I guess I was just a little scared you’d be upset, that’s all. I mean, this is the worst possible time. God, I still don’t know how to tell Robin.”

He gently tugged the brochure from your hands and tossed it somewhere in the darkness of the room, then cupped your cheeks in his hands to hold your gaze.

“Wait till we get to the Commonwealth,” he said. “Till you decide. Then we’ll both tell ‘er.”

You sighed and leaned your head against his chest in slight frustration at the predicament you found yourself in.

“And then what if I decide to keep it, but I lose it? Then I have to tell her that, and I can’t tell her if I get rid of it. Jesus, what if she asks how babies are made, Daryl? She’ll know it’s not the stork, and I don’t know the right thing to say, and—”

He shook his head and broke out into a small chuckle, amused by your frantic speech.

You scoffed and playfully hit his shoulder. “It’s not funny, Daryl. That child is going to have so many questions that I don’t know how to answer in a way she’ll understand.”

“We’ll figure it out, sweetheart,” he said softly. He always spoke so softly with you. “Together. Like we always do.”

He grasped at your wrist, holding your hand up to show you your DIXON bracelet, which he held next to his own.

“Dixon’s stay together,” he said. “Like the stubborn assholes we are.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “I’m not stubborn. That’s you, and Robin. And Dog.”

“Nah,” he said. “You’re a Dixon through and through, just like the rest of us.” He eyed the lace collar of your robe, and began tugging it off you, untying the belt and pulling the sleeves down as gently as he could, knowing he had a bad habit of accidentally ripping your delicates when he did something so simple as the household laundry.

“Daryl,” you said with a laugh, “no sex tonight. We have to get up early for the meeting.”

“Just gettin’ ya ready for bed, woman,” he huffed. “Jesus, tryin’ to be a good husband and my old lady’s got ‘er mind in the—”

His eyes immediately darted to the bandage on your upper arm, where the bullet from the encounter with the four men the other day had grazed your skin, leaving a dark red strip of raw flesh where the speeding bullet had cut you.

Of course, that was underneath the bandage. All Daryl could see was that white bandage stretched over your wound.

“What’s this?” he asked, turning your body a little to get a better look at it. “You’re hurt?” His body immediately tended up, looking at you with wide, questioning eyes. “You all right? What happened?”

You moved your arm away from his hands when he tried to lift the bandage.

“It’s nothing.”

Telling Daryl about the close call was never on your to-do list. Though you told him everything, some things he didn’t need to know, especially if they would only make him upset. Having Lydia to talk about the experience with was more than enough for you.

“Ain’t nothin’,” he said, gripping your arm again to look at your wound. Peeling back the bandage ever so slightly, he saw the indentation that he knew to be a bullet graze. “Shit, (Y/N).” He looked up to you seriously, nostrils already flaring and his face beginning to turn red. “Someone shot at you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He shook his head at the injury, biting his bottom lip and slightly snarling all at once.

“Who?” he growled. It couldn’t have been anyone inside the walls, he knew, since no one had had guns for a very long time, but it must’ve been someone, and whoever that was, he was determined to settle the score.

You shook your head and held firmly onto his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter,” you said. “He’s dead.”

“He?”

“Daryl, don’t—”

“Nah,” he interrupted. “I wanna know what happened out there, (Y/N), when ya went to that mill. Anyone so much as put their hands on you, I’ll—”

“No one touched me,” you said. You knew it was a lie, but at the same time, no one touched you in a way that significantly hurt you. You’d been able to get the upper hand before that could happen. “Or Lydia. We, um… We stopped at that house you and I stopped at once. These four guys came in, they had guns. They shot at us, but this guy, Billy, helped us. The three of us took them out, then Billy helped us get to the mill. That’s all.”

He raised an eyebrow, suspicious that you were omitting something from your story.

“They just… shot at ya?”

“Yes,” you huffed, watching him replace your bandage with the utmost care and gentleness. “That was all.”

He knew better than that, though. He knew you were lying. He always knew.

“You’ve always been shit at lying,” he said. “Somethin’ else happened.”

As much as you didn’t want to tell him, to get him more riled up than he already was, his stubbornness wouldn’t let him back off.

“Yeah,” you sighed in defeat. “I mean, it didn’t happen, but it almost did.”

He hoped it wasn’t what he was thinking it was, but it had to have been, the way you looked. He recognized it, the same look of shock and fear from that night.

“Was it… like what happened at the prison?”

You sniffled and wiped away the few tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. “Not as close,” you said. “But yeah… That’s what they wanted. Both of us.”

He felt both a pillar of fire and ice shooting up his spine, and a profound sadness and rage meandering in the empty space where his emotions raged in untethered commotion. To think of that night and that man was like striking a match already soaked in gasoline, and letting the whole box light up.

“I told them,” you continued, speaking shakily and without a backbone to your tearful words, “to let Lydia go, to hurt me, not her. They, um, said they’d… take Lydia first, make me watch, then—”

“Ya don’t have to,” he said quickly, recognizing the pain you felt recalling the incident. “Were there any more of ‘em?”

You shook your head adamantly. “No. Billy knew them, they wiped out his group. He said they were bigger once, but there were only four left. They’re gone now.”

The touch of his soft, warm hand on yours was enough to call forth the tears you tried to withhold, and the words you had been so careful not to utter, because you knew they could be used against you. Even in the presence of the man you trusted most in this world, the pain unearthed from that day’s events was strong enough to remind you of your vulnerability.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

You felt pathetic, apologizing for nothing. It was like you had reverted back to your old routine of apologizing just because you felt obligated to.

He lifted your head by gently touching your cheek, raising your eyes to his. To your surprise, he was crying, too. Just a little, his eyes watery and just on the verge of dripping tears down his cheek, but you knew when Daryl was crying. It was a relatively rare phenomenon, usually only spurred on by moments of death, but for the first time in a long time, he was crying for some other reason.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked. His voice was hushed and higher-pitched than usual, probably from the crying. “There’s nothin’ for you to be sorry about.”

You thought for a moment, searching his face for the answer to a question you had no idea how to respond to.

“I don’t know,” you said. “Just… don’t want to upset you.”

“Only upset that I wasn’t there,” he said. “I’d have skinned those pricks alive.”

You laughed a little through your tears, as that was exactly what you predicted he would’ve done if he ever found those men.

He couldn’t laugh at all, though, only contorted his face to hold back the tears he was so desperately trying to keep at bay, but it was all in vain. You knew he was crying.

“Please don’t cry, honey,” you said, reaching out to hold his wettened cheeks. “I’m all right. Lydia and I, we’re both all right.”

“Ya sure?”

You smiled to reassure him, and placed a soft kiss upon his cheek. “Yeah. As long as I have you.”

“Ya know you always got me,” he said, then lowered his eyes to look at you more seriously again. “Ya sure you’re all right? It’s okay if you ain’t. I mean, it ain’t okay, ‘cause you deserve to be happy, but I get it. You can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

You weren’t entirely sure if you were all right, not considering everything that the attack had reawakened. Bad memories came flooding back immediately after, but as soon as Daryl came home, you seemed to remember just how much he loved you, how safe you were in his hands.

As weak as you felt, you were beginning to once again see how strong you really were. You didn’t always need Daryl for that, but you needed him to know that your love was in the right place, that your heart would never break as long as he held it. Promises meant nothing, not unless they were his, and he’d never broken a promise to you, not once. Maybe he thought he had, but not in your book.

The fear and trauma of those moments would always be with you, and you’d never forget them as long as you’d live, but the true, deep love in your heart would always be there to show the way forward, to pick you back up and remind you of why you had made it as far as you had—the person you are.

“I know,” you said. “I’m happy, Daryl. Very happy.”

The fact that you said that through sniffles and tears didn’t convince Daryl, who, even after ten years of being with a woman with a propensity to “happy cry,” did not understand the concept.

“Then why’re you cryin’, crazy woman?”

You let out a snort as you wiped the snot from your nose. In front of anyone else, it might’ve been unattractive, but that snort was music to his ears. Always had been.

“Why are you crying, you big baby?”

He scoffed and grabbed your wrists before throwing them behind his neck, forcing you to hug him, though you were quite willing, wrapping your arms as tight as you could and squeezing his body against yours.

“It’ll be good at the Commonwealth,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “No reason for ya to leave, nothin’ to hurt you.”

You raised an eyebrow at his optimism, and his sudden willingness to trust this place.

“Since when did you trust so easily?” you asked. “I mean, what if they’re cannibals or something?”

He rolled his eyes and pulled away to give you an amused look. “I don’t trust ‘em. Gonna watch my back and yours soon as we get there, but…” His eyes drifted down to your abdomen, where once his first child had inhabited your womb. Now, his second would, and the thought of raising and constantly worrying about not one, but two children was utterly terrifying, and that’s not even considering how horrified he was at the thought of the pregnancy going wrong, or anything happening to you. “Most important thing is makin’ sure you and Robin are okay.”

You always blushed whenever he said that you and Robin were the most important people in the world to him, no matter how many times he said it.

“Now,” he huffed, tugging the blankets from underneath your butt and covering your body with them, “I’m exhausted.”

You laid yourself down, resting your head on your pillow as you watched him tuck himself in beside you, turning off the lantern on his bedside table as he did so.

Without a moment’s hesitation, his body mirrored yours, fitting against you like a puzzle piece as they latched together in perfect harmony. His arm draped over you as usual, and his head nestled against your shoulder blade where he let out an adorably loud yawn, the kind he’d never let anyone else hear, as the brave Daryl Dixon could never look tired in front of the other Alexandrians. He had a reputation to keep as the tough, stoic hero, after all.

“‘Night, sweetheart,” he said, and pressed a long, but chaste, kiss to your shoulder. “Love you.”

You wiggled your body snug against his, though you were sure you, unfortunately, couldn’t be any closer, no matter how hard you tried. And try hard, you did.

“Goodnight, baby,” you replied, and let out your own yawn as you played with his fingers below yours. “Love you.”

The beautiful silence of the post-apocalyptic world settled in quickly, a silence that made the fall of mankind and most of the human population so much more enjoyable. Still, before your mind could lull off to sleep, you couldn’t get one last simple phrase off your mind.

“Daryl?” you whispered.

He grumbled softly, but he was still awake. “Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

You smiled at his genuine questioning, as if he had no idea just how much he’d done for you. Maybe he didn’t, but you’d never stop reminding him either way.

“Everything.”

You didn’t know it, but that night marked the end of your nightmares, those horrible images of that night at the prison that plagued your mind when you slept. The memory would always stick with you, but you were finally at peace with it, and at peace with the uncertainty of tomorrow.

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

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milliedazzledust · 4 years ago

Text

Somewhere Only We Know (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Request: @the-craziestone story about Bucky x Reader, where Bucky is really obsessed with Reader - But not in a creepy way, more like he's really really in love with her and he can only see her, like she's his world Anon: can you do something with reader gifting Bucky Barnes the 3 Lord of the Rings books? They were published after WWII, and reader knows he liked The Hobbit so she thinks it's something he'd like

Words: 2943

A/N: this is pure fluff with no warning, also I changed a tiny bit the second request to fit the story - enjoy ;)

He couldn’t explain the sadness he constantly felt every time he was walking through the streets of the city he used to know by heart. A stranger in a strange land was the best way to describe him. More than seventy years had passed, and he hadn’t witnessed any changes. While he had been a puppet deprived of freewill and controlled with the sole purpose of killing, he had missed the birth of a whole new world. Now, as he strode around the streets, he could easily remember each of their names, but none of them were familiar. His mind remained in the 1940’s and in the middle of the noises, surrounded by the sound of first responders vehicles, the children running around and cars piling up on the road, he was a stranger in his own home. It was an unsettling feeling, a pining melancholy that reminded him in every step he made that his Brooklyn didn’t exist anymore.

He was furious in a way, but mostly confused. Haunted by memories he had gotten back a second ago, and they didn’t fit this new reality. He wasn’t even nostalgic, but the loneliness was getting heavier every day. He could still picture the park he used to take his sister, the alley where Steve had gotten beaten up one day, the bakery his mother used to go to every morning. Treasure of souvenirs he would keep forever. And although the park, the alley and the streets names were still here, he was left alone walking down Brooklyn.

“Hey, Y/N!” He heard a voice shouting. “Where do I put those ?”

His head mechanically turned to a young boy carrying a heavy box of what looked like antics. Without thinking he crossed the road and when his eyes laid on the small shop, he gasped. There it was, one small piece of his past still here. It was an old bookstore he used to go to with his sister. The man, a friend, an immigrant from France with a thick accent, would let them stay for hours. Bucky loved reading to Rebecca. They would sit inside and she’d insist to hear The Hobbit. François, the man owning the store, would make coffee and stay with them, relating the stories he had heard around the world, telling them all about the France he had known. It was all still here. ‘Au Nom de la Rose’ was still here.

He didn’t hesitate a second and rushed inside the place, an honest smile on his face. His eyes roamed over the room and he took a deep breath. It was just like he remembered, a place filled with murmurs and whispers floating above his head and through the roof, indistinct conversations between friends, huge windows bringing in a powerful light at this hour of the day, plants in almost every corner. Even the atmosphere was the same, this powerful smell of imagination coming from the laying books on the shelves, begging to be read, mixing with a distinct smell coming from the dust. The small couch and the old table he used to sit by with his sister were also there. The wooden pieces had many rough and sharp edges but looked just as smooth and clean as he remembered. Finally, his eyes landed on a woman there. He watched her rearranging a bouquet of daffodils, breathing in the perfume of the vibrant flowers as she tended to them meticulously.

For some reason, he couldn’t look away. She felt familiar, like he had known her all his life, yet he had never seen her before. When she turned around he took an instinctive step toward her. She noticed, raised her head and that was the moment their eyes met. His breath caught in his throat when she smiled at him. He stood, frozen on the spot, staring at her. He couldn’t comprehend that instant connection. There was an inexplicable sense of excitement yet weird feeling that they had known each other forever, that they were meeting each other again after a long journey. He was transfixed, almost stuck by the confusing mixture of emotions but oddly comforted by them - all at the same time.

“Can I help you ?” She asked him.

He surprised himself thinking there was something eerily calming about her voice, that he could listen to her for hours.

“Do I know you ?” He quickly wondered out loud, mentally facepalming himself for his lack of tact.

“Shouldn’t I be asking that question ?”

“Why ?”

“You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes” She grinned.

“I’m … I’m sorry” He apologized profusely. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Look weird ?”

He could swear his heart skipped a beat when he heard her laugh.

“This place is beautiful”

“Thank you”

“How long have you been working here ?”

“Forever” She smirked. “The store belongs to my family. Passed on from generation to generation”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“You’re related to François Y/L/N ?” He questioned.

She tilted her head, crossing her arms.

“Now I’m intrigued” She told him. “How do you know about my grandfather ?”

“We’ve met,” He answered without thinking. He rapidly realized his mistake when she narrowed her eyes in utter curiosity. “I … I didn’t mean … I mean … It was … It was a long time ago”

He gulped, hoping she wouldn’t push it. She looked him up and down, assessing him.

“What’s your name, weirdo ?” She inquired, giving him a skeptical glance.

“Bucky. M’am”

She smirked.

“Let me guess, a soldier ?”

“How … ?”

“You all have the same manners, and the same eyes”

“What do you mean ?”

She was now standing in front of him, staring at his face with the most adorable smile he had ever seen.

“You carry the same sadness and the horror you’ve seen” She replied honestly. “My father was a lot like that too”

Her answer had the effect of a punch in the gut he hadn’t been expecting. He felt naked under her gaze, a stranger with the power to see through his soul.

“I’m Y/N” She introduced herself, raising her hand to shake his.

It was rare for him to smile truthfully but the unexpected bliss slowly growing made his lips twitch before he could even acknowledge it.

“Hi, Y/N” He greeted her.

She chuckled, amused.

“Hi, Bucky” She murmured.

After that encounter, he made a point of coming back as much as he could. He stayed for hours sitting on the couch, reading the same book over and over again. They shared quick words but he didn’t dare to start up a conversation, too afraid he would say something he shouldn’t, something that would scare her away. He was content like this. There was no Winter Soldier, no war, no fight, no one else than Bucky. Being next to this girl was in itself a medication for him. It made no sense but she was so bright and radiant. Like a magnet, he was sucked into an invisible gravitational pull toward her.

By the second week of him coming into the store, she started to notice the small marks of attention. He would come so silently she wouldn’t hear a thing, bringing a fresh cup of coffee he would lay on her counter when she wasn’t looking, replacing the daffodils before they could fade, carrying the heavy boxes filled with new books. When she wasn’t working, she would grab something to read and sit next to him. They would exchange a smile but wouldn’t talk. The proximity was enough. Their presence was louder than any word. A quiet routine they were slowly creating.

By the fourth month, nothing had changed and that day was no different. Rain was pouring outside and the store was empty, except for Y/N and Bucky. Just as usual, he was reading in a corner while she was working. New stacks of books had arrived and she was methodically putting them on the shelves. Standing on a ladder, on the tip of her toes, she was so focused on the task she had failed to notice the soldier walking up to her.

“Do you need any help ?” He offered.

Surprised to hear his voice so close to her, she lost her balance and slipped. She yelped as her ankle hit one side of the ladder and automatically closed her eyes, anticipating the fall. She tried to brace herself but before her body could touch the ground she felt something cold holding her waist. Suddenly, instead of laying on the floor, she was against his hard chest, in a protective embrace. She recognized his arms around her and shivered at the odd coldness. He felt it immediately and was quick to put some distance between them, making sure his metal arm was no more on her body and only his human hand was steadying her.

“Are you alright ?” He questioned. She pursed her lips, trying not to show that she was hurt when she heard how worried he sounded.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine”

He looked skeptic but didn’t say anything about it.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” He apologetically told her.

He took the books scattered on the ground, putting them away, and helped her walk to the couch.

“You know, if the goal was to literally make me fall for you, I’d say you did a pretty good job there” She flirted, making him chuckle.

He sat on the table in front of her and grabbed her calve, gently laying her leg on his thigh to assess the damage. From the corner of his eyes, he could see her blushing. It made him insanely happy to know he wasn’t the only one affected by their closeness. They tried not to look at one another, too embarrassed by the situation. This was the closest they had ever been and the touch on his skin on hers was more than enough to make her heart ready to jump out of her chest. When he clasped her injured ankle, she cried and instinctively pushed him back.

“Fine, huh ?” He repeated her own words with a smirk.

She huffed and rolled her eyes.

“It’s not a big deal, Bucky” She reassured him. “I’ve got to get back to work”

“You’re not moving from this couch” He ordered.

“Is that an order, soldier ?” She ironically threw at him, crossing her arms in annoyance.

“You bet it is”

She watched him, intrigued, as he stood up and piled up some books on the table to put her ankle to rest on it.

“No moving around, got it ?” He made sure she would follow his advice.

“Aye, aye, Captain”

He chuckled

“Technically speaking, I’m not a Captain” He confessed as he continued what she had been doing earlier and started putting the books carefully on the right shelves.

“Would you have preferred Sergeant ?” She replied, bitting her lips, unsure this was the wrong moment to admit she knew who he was.

He instantly stopped what he was doing and slowly turned around to stare at her.

“What did you say ?” He asked, more scared than ever.

Up until that moment, he had avoided telling her who he was. Becoming part of the Avengers meant his identity wasn’t a secret anymore, and although he had done a terrific job staying hidden among the mass of people, it wouldn’t have taken more than a little push to find who he really was. He stood in front of her, frozen, not having a clue how to react.

“Sergeant Barnes, isn’t it ?” She sounded nervous, almost frightened to say his name out loud.

“I… “ He tried to say anything, but as the rain kept pouring outside, slowly turning into a thunderstorm, he blankly stared back.

“Would you have told me ?” She whispered.

“Eventually”

She humorlessly snorted.

“We’ve known each other for more than three months, Bucky. I see you practically every day. Be honest, eventually would’ve never come”

“It’s not like that” He tried to explain.

“I’m not mad, don’t worry” She sadly smiled. “I just wish… I guess I wish you could’ve trust me”

He rubbed his jaw in frustration and made a step toward her. Without breaking his gaze, he slowly took the glove off, revealing his metal hand. Still, he didn’t look at her, too afraid of her reaction. The cold metal had never felt so hot against his skin, a burning reminder of the stranger he had become.

“I didn’t want you to be scared,” He admitted in a broken voice.

“Of you ?” She was surprised. “Why would I be ?”

“I’m not a good man, Y/N”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that ?”

“You don’t understand…”

“The red box under the counter” She interrupted him. “Can you take it for me ? And turn the sign of the shop, we’re closed.”

He gave her a puzzled look, but did as she said anyway. He locked the front door and took the box she asked for before walking to her and putting it directly in her hands.

“Sit” She instructed him.

He didn’t dare to stay near her and chose to stay on an opposite chair.

“I found this a little after you and I met” She told him, motioning to the box. “It was in the basement, hidden under old junks my parents had kept over the years”

He let her speak, not understanding where this was going or why she was telling him about that. She slowly opened the mystery box and took a small envelope out of it. It looked old, so old the paper had turned into a deep shade of yellow.

“My grandfather wrote this” She confessed. “In 1957. It’s addressed to Bucky and Rebecca Barnes. I believe it belongs to you”

She handed him the letter that he took with shaky hands.

“How did you… ?” He started to ask.

“It was a long shot,” She explained. “The first time you were here, you said my grandfather's name like it meant something to you. Like you really knew him. When I found the box, and the envelope, I didn’t make the connection with you right away. But your name was all I needed to start my research. My parents kept pretty much everything so it didn’t took me too long to find an old photo with you and him, back in the 1930′s”

He wasn’t moving at all when she showed him a picture François had taken of them right before he was enlisted.

“I wanted to wait for the right time to tell you, I guess. I mean, you have enough ghosts as it is”

“Still not scared ?” He inquired in a humorless chuckle.

“Not one bit” She didn’t hesitate to reply.

She softly smiled and motioned for him to come closer. When he sat next to her, she moved the box from her lap to his.

“We were friends, François and I” He recalled, his eyes glued on the letter. “He was married to Eloise. This bookstore was their treasure. He kept repeating that I shouldn’t go to war when I could stay hidden under the pages of books that would take me around the world without risking my life”

She took his metal palm between her fingers when she heard his voice breaking. He almost tried to remove it but she tightly entwined their hands together.

“Maybe he was right” He muttered under his breath.

“Or maybe you and I were meant to meet almost a century later” She shrugged.

He snorted before turning around the envelope to open it. Y/N gently laid her head against his shoulder and let him read in silence. She didn’t move when she felt his body shaking with tears but only held his hand harder.

“They’re originals, from 1954 I think. He kept them for you” She told him as he slowly took what was in the red box. A set of three old books. “Why Lord of the Rings, though ?”

He laughed,sniffing, before brushing the tears off his face and staring down at the woman. At that very moment, he felt like the journey was done. His soul had stopped the search it had been on for a time that felt like forever. Like a century.

“My sister and I, we used to come here often,” He said in a melancholic grin. Sorrow was finally starting to be replace by something much better, happiness. “We would sit on this very couch and she would make me read the Hobbit. She used to love that story so much.”

“How many times has she make you read it ?” The woman smirked.

“Enough to remember every single word” He exaggerated, making her giggle. “When I told François I was leaving, he said he would send me books to help me travel away from the war, even just for a moment. I guess he kept them, hoping I would come back. Even after I was declared dead”

“Maybe deep down he knew you weren’t”

“And he planned this whole meeting with his granddaughter ?” He ironically added.

“Oh no, that was beyond him. That was fate, Barnes”

“I was meant to find you” He agreed, a deep feeling of love and utter contentment forming in his heart. He bent his head down and let all he needed to say be spoken through the kiss they shared.

“Will you read it to me ?” She playfully requested.

Overflowed with joy, he smirked and kissed her forehead before opening the old book on his lap. There it was, the only choice he needed to make. The only home he had yearn to create. Her.

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagines #the winter soldier imagine #falcon and the winter soldier #Winter Soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagines #fatws #tfatws

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lxngbottom · 4 years ago

Text

Cramps. | N.L. (+ D.T & S.F.)

in which the reader is having a really bad period, so her three best friends come and check up on her.

warnings: pain, periods, bleeding, swearing, we know how it is.

i’m on my period rn, & these three boys are my fav characters so this is mostly to comfort me (and idk if you guys can even relate, but my periods get THIS bad) (edit: this was NOT supposed to be this long but oh well i love these three)

gryffindor reader! (but anyone can read obv)

—

somehow, you had managed to make it through the previous school day. but, the whole time your stomach felt like it was completely turning on you, and with every step you took, the bleeding was so heavy. you couldn’t even remember the last time you went through so many pads and tampons in one day.

on top of that, you were an absolute emotional wreck. and, that became apparent to neville when seamus laughed over tripping over your shoe lace, and you looked up at your three best friends with tears in your eyes.

“merlin, y/n! i was only messing with you! what’s wrong?” seamus furrowed his eyebrows at you, only for you to bend down and groan in pain as you attempted to tie your loose shoe laces.

“i can’t do it!” you whined, a tear finally escaping your tired eyes. you stood up, and sniffled, not noticing the genuine concerned looks plastered across the three boys’s faces.

and then, if things couldn’t get any worse, you felt someone tap your shoulder. you turned around to meet a terrified looking ron and harry, staring down at your legs,

“y-y-y/n... blood! t-t-there’s blood running down your legs!”

you looked down, and sure enough, there was a bunch of it. you automatically began to cry, and the sobbing only got worse as you realized that this was happening in front of not one, not two, but five boys.

“nev—neville... p-please give me your jacket...” you choked out, rushing as the blood seeped between your thighs. he did so quickly, tossing it to you, and your tied it around your waist before running into the nearest bathroom.

“why would you point that out?” dean asked ron, eyeing him,

“what?! would it be better for her to stay like that the rest of the day?” the ginger snapped back, still not putting two and two together. ron wasn’t exactly wrong, but his execution was awful.

the boys sighed, deciding that maybe waiting outside the bathroom would do you some good. but, unfortunately, as 15 minutes passed, you never came out.

“m-m-maybe someone should go and get hermione. or lavendar. or one of the parvati twins?” neville suggested, scratching the back of his neck. seamus shrugged, honestly clueless on how to handle the whole situation.

luckily, a saving grace skipped by, grabbing the attention of all of the boys,

“ginny!” ron called out, and she stopped in her tracks, “thank merlin you’re here!”

the look on her face was questionable as harry, ron, neville, dean, and seamus all stared at her.

“w-what?”

dean spoke up first, more than concerned, “y/n went in there. she—she had—blood running down her legs. and, she started crying...”

that’s all it took for ginny to nod her head, “okay. you guys go ahead. i’ll take care of her!”

they did so reluctantly, more so your three best friends. as ron and harry wanted to be away from the whole scenario as soon as possible.

and, that was the last they heard from you yesterday. today, they waited for you to come down from the girl’s dorm, but you never came.

they waited for you in the great hall, but again, you never came.

little did they know, you were curled up in a ball on your bed, sobbing from the excruciating pain that filled your whole body. this cycle was hitting you like a truck, and you’d wished that somehow you had been more prepared for it.

hermione had left you reluctantly that morning, never seeing a fellow girl having such a bad period before. you had cried all night, and you and her both had barely gotten any sleep. so that’s why when neville saw hermione drifting off to sleep during a shared class, he was absolutely baffled.

as that same class ended, the three boys caught up with hermione,

“hey, granger! where’s y/n?” seamus asked, and she rubbed her eyes.

“she—um—“ a yawn interrupted her response, “she’s in our dorm. she doesn’t feel well.”

neville’s mouth went agape, and he finally put two and two together.

“i wouldn’t go and see her, though. you guys embarrassed her yesterday. she told me all about ronald, and ginny, and seamus. she’s really upset, and... she’s just in a lot of pain. so, just let her be for a while.”

and with that, she left the three boys. they gave each other weird looks, mentally questioning each other.

you on the other hand at this time, were crying as you changed out your bed sheets for the second time that day. it wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable experience to have to explain to a house elf why you needed a bunch of new clean sheets.

dinner soon came, and even then, the boys expected to see you sitting with them, eating and laughing. but, you still hadn’t left that dorm.

so, neville packed some extra food, and the three made a journey to gryffindor tower, just to see if they could break the rules to make sure you weren’t dying. (of course, all three of them were convinced that you were on your death bed.)

they slipped past the prefect, climbing up the stairs to your dorm.

dean was just about to knock when they all heard your voice,

“stop, hermione! please! i don’t care that i missed my classes! i’ve been puking all day, bled on my bed, almost shit my pants four times, so, i really don’t care about snape and what he said about me! piss off!”

seamus’s lips curled, and the sound he let out could only be described as pure disgust. but, neville nudged him,

“she can’t help it. don’t be like that...” he whispered, still not sure if you were alright with visitors at the moment.

“well, i’m sorry! but, dean, neville, and seamus are all worried about you! they—“

that’s when they heard a blood curdling scream, and it sounded exactly like you. it made them jump,

“I WANT TO KILL MYSELF! FUCK!”

“don’t say that! it’s only for a few days, y/n! i told you i would help you with anything you needed!”

“then you can start by fucking off! go away!”

the boys looked at each other,

“maybe—“

“yeah—“

“later.”

they all mutually agreed, and ran down the stairs before hermione had the chance to see them.

they settled in the common room, deciding to do their homework until they knew it was a safe call to go and see you. they all worried about you tremendously, as they had never heard you talk to a fellow friend like that. you simple weren’t that type of person in their eyes. you had always been patient with people, so it was a wonder to them how you loved them so much.

they spotted ginny, walking up to the girl’s dormitories with a glass of ice cream in hand. they naturally assumed it was for you. and truth be told, when ginny entered with a sweet smile on her face, holding the cold treat, you realized you had never been more happy to see a weasley before.

as pathetic as it sounded, you cried to ginny while eating the chocolate ice cream. you sobbed to her about all the events of that day, and the day before. your crush on neville and how you believed he didn’t feel the same, the way that seamus chewed too loudly, and how hermione was too uptight sometimes. she simply listened, knowing that’s all she could really do.

finally, the three boys saw ginny coming down the the glass now empty, and they ran up to her,

“is she okay?”

“what’s happening?”

“can we go and see her?”

she chuckled and shook her head them, “she’s fine, you guys. calm down. i’m not so sure if she’ll want to see you guys, but you guys can sure try.”

they all three looked at each other, slightly terrified.

but, they sucked it up and made their way up again. of course, seamus couldn’t hold back from making a snide comment,

“i swear, if i get a book thrown at my head and end up in the hospital wing with a concussion, i’m blanking it on neville.”

“why me?!” neville scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air,

“because! you fancy her and are the most worried about her! she’s just on her period! is it really that big of a deal?”

before neville could answer, dean cut in, “yes, seamus. it is a big deal. maybe not to us, but to her it is. try bleeding out of your dick for a week while your inside are ripping apart!”

if you would’ve been present, you definitely wouldn’t hugged dean for that one.

they finally arrived, and they argued for a moment over who would be the once to knock on the door. it felt like they were stepping into a death trap. finally, neville agreed to do it.

he did so gently,

“what?” you asked, “who is it?”

dean and seamus eyed each other, definitely panicking.

“erm—it’s... us...”

you groaned, and looked down at your state. you were only in your bra and underwear, trash bucket in your lap, nausea getting the best of you... again.

but, you figured seeing your three best friends would bring you some comfort. this wasn’t their fault, and you didn’t want to take it out on them anymore.

“um... you can come in, but warning! i’m—“

before you could warn them, the door flew open,

“naked...” you breathed out, looking down at the trash can.

they all went wide eyed, and neville covered dean and seamus’s eyes with his hands, and closed his own.

“close the door, you gits!”

neville did so with his foot, still covering everyone’s eyes. you let out a small chuckle at the fact, and shook your head.

“you guys can look, you know. you act like we haven’t been best friends since first year.”

“b-b-but you’re—naked!” dean responded, through neville still keeping his own hand over the boy’s face.

you pursed your lips as you felt vomit climbing it’s way up your throat, “who—“

that’s when they heard it. the violent sound of puking. neville thanked merlin that his eyes were closed, because he probably would’ve puked too.

“who cares?” you breathed out, wiping the slobber from your chin. that’s when seamus took neville’s hand away from his eyes, and realized how you looked.

you looked unrecognizable almost. you looked exhausted, pale, and like you had just been hit by twenty cars at one time. your eyes were all puffy and red from crying, and your hair was definitely not put together like it usually was. makeup was smeared all down your face, makeup from the day before that you simply didn’t have the motivation to get up and wash off. but, seamus couldn’t help but notice your bra and underwear.

“you—“ he chuckled, “you have teddy bears on your undergarments, y/n?”

you clenched your jaw, and tightened your grasp around the trash can, narrowing your eyes at him. his eyes widened,

“kidding! i was only kidding! they suit you well!”

finally, dean shoved neville’s hand off as well, and neville opened his eyes back up reluctantly. neville and dean took in your state, much less of a laughing matter to them, as they were more of the calm friends.

“merlin, y/n... are you alright?” neville asked, approaching you slowly. you shook your head,

“i’m dying...”

the three boys gasped, and you looked at them funny, “i’m kidding... but i feel like i might...”

that settled their nerves a bit, the theory of you dying slowly fading away. you spit in the trash can, and set it back down on the floor. of course, seamus being the curious cat he is, looked in the trash can.

“don’t look at my vomit, finnigan! don’t you have any manners?”

he jumped back, and nodded his head.

“what are you guys doing here, anyway?” you asked, laying down fully on the bed, stomach and legs exposed.

“well—we know—you—you sorta—“

neville sighed at dean’s awkwardness about the whole situation, “we know you’re on your period. and, we know that you’re in a lot of pain. and, we just wanted to come and check up on you.” he glanced at the other two boys, “right?”

“yeah, definitely!”

“totally!”

you giggled at seamus and dean, “oh, what gentlemen. how could i ever thank you?”

seamus couldn’t hold it in. the comment just slipped from his lips,

“well, seeing you in your bra and underwear is thanks enough in my book!” he joked, nudging dean.

surprisingly, the only one who laughed beside seamus... was you. this surprised the boys, as you were sure that would earn seamus that book to his temple, or at least a smack to the face. but, it didn’t.

“see? i told you guys she’s fine! she’s laughing like she always does!”

neville seemed to look over at you for reassurance, just to make sure that seamus hadn’t crossed a boundary with one of his crude jokes. it was something that seamus had done quite a few times, without even realizing it, but it was simply because he didn’t know how to put a filter on. you knew at the end of the day that seamus wasn’t trying to disrespect you. plus, it was something you had go get used to, being one of his best friends and all.

at one point, the boys had eased into the floor, getting things for you if you needed it. seamus even asked why exactly girls even got periods, and you explained it to him in full detail.

“so... like—the inside of your uterus is actually tearing? i thought dean was joking about that!”

you shook your head, “unfortunately, it’s not a joke, finnigan. it’s very real...”

“well, is it this bad for all girls?”

“no, actually. some girls only bleed for a couple of days, and it’s very light. they can go without cramps, puking... lucky bitches!”

that’s when the boys fell silent, even seamus himself. until he raised an eyebrow,

“is it bad that i’m kinda curious? you know—to see how it feels to... bleed... down—there...”

dean furrowed his eyebrows, but neville nodded his head in agreement.

“well, boys... i can’t make you bleed out your dick for seven days straight... but, i can punch you guys in the stomach with full force and show you how cramps feel!”

collectively, they all disagreed, which caused you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“but—it can’t be that bad, right? i mean, everyone can get a stomach ache...” dean questioned, but unsure of what he had just said.

“let me put it to you like this, thomas. imagine the weasley twins sneaking a muggle laxative into your morning pumpkin juice...” you started, “but that stomach pain for a whole week.”

dean put his head down, finally understanding. no wonder you had talked about almost shitting your pants.

that’s when the door swung open, revealing a surprised hermione,

“y/n! where are your clothes?! boys are in here! and plus, they’re not even supposed to be in here, anyway!” she snapped, immediately storming over to your closet, and pulling out a random shirt, throwing it at you.

“but, it’s too hot! and, any tightness hurts!”

“i don’t care! i couldn’t imagine sitting around with ronald and harry with my—lady parts hanging out!”

you chuckled at her hidden shaming, quite used to it by now. “oh, whatever, granger! it’s the same difference as a bathing suit! lighten up!”

seamus and dean snickered at the look on her face, and the way she stormed out.

“she’s right, y/n. not about—you know, we don’t care... but, just—seamus will be talking about it for the rest of his natural life if you keep your clothes off any longer.” neville stated, standing up and taking his sweater off. he passed it to you, making sure not to touch you in anyway that would make you uncomfortable.

you smiled at the kind gesture. sure, it was a sweater, and you probably should choose the lighter t-shirt that hermione had snagged out for you. but, it was neville’s sweater, so, how could you refuse?

you slipped it on over your head, and pulled your hair through the hole. it was quite comfortable, and you were just the right amount of warm and cool. so, it worked out in the end. “thank you, longbottom. that was sweet.”

his face turned red at the small grin etched upon your face, but he shook it off and sat back down on the floor.

you all began talking again, not even noticing when seamus had gotten bored and ancy, and started snooping in your drawers. but, his eyes went wide at the sight of something in your drawer. he picked it up, and stared at it for a moment.

“uh... y/n...” he started, voice a bit shaky, “what’s this?”

he held it up, and you, dean, and neville all looked over.

“that’s a tampon, finnigan. i use it when i’m on my period so the blood doesn’t leak out.”

he took a beat of silence as he connected the dots, and his eyes seemed to widen even more,

“and... you have to put this where exactly?”

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville x reader #neville longbottom smut #dean thomas #dean x reader #dean thomas imagine #dean thomas smut #seamus finnigan #seamus finnigan imagine #seamus x reader #seamus finnigan smut

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capevans3000 · 3 years ago

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The reader is the fiancé of chris evans, and its the Day of the wedding and the reader is nervous, and the ceremony is cute , they have written there own vows, and the reader announce that she is pregant , and chris like you joking right, the reader so like i found out 2 weeks ago, and i waited till today to tell you, with a lott of fluff thanks and if its ready you tag me right

Hi @maximeevansblog, my friend. Sorry for the long wait for this one. I had a really fun time writing this! Thank you for the request, it’s really such a sweet idea. <3 I hope this does your request justice, and that you’ll love it!

A/N: You may find the vows really familiar, that’s because it’s mostly made up of different Disney quotes, haha! I’d imagine Chris’ wedding would be Disney themed, or least Disney inspired? He’s such a huge Disney fan after all! While reading this, you may want to listen to this, which was kind of the song I was picturing the reader walking down the aisle to. Also the ring that Chris gave to Y/N looks something like this.

Comments and feedback are really appreciated! Pictures are not mine, but all mistakes in this are mine. Stay safe everyone!

All that months of preparation had finally led you and Chris to this day. You sat alone in one of the dressing rooms of the Concord Youth Theatre, reminiscing the journey you and Chris took, just to arrive on this very day. It was clear right from the beginning of your relationship that you were both meant to end up together forever. But that didn’t mean it was easy. You learned the hard way, what it meant to date someone as famous as Chris. The media weren’t always the kindest with their words and their judgements, and you admitted that you had fallen into dark moments more times than you were proud of reading articles about your relationship with him. Still, Chris had never let the media be in any way of your relationship. He remained a constant rock, a strong foothold and a protector of you. Words weren’t necessarily needed at all for him to show you his love for you. He did it all through his actions, his time, his patience. No matter how much you loved Chris, he always seemed to love you a whole lot more.

You smiled as you thought back to the day he proposed. Chris had brought you and Dodger on a camping trip, one that you have had many times before. You just had no idea that the camping trip was when you’d become his fiancé. There were no frills, no theatrics. There were just the two of you and Dodger, in the rain, under the mellow moonlight when he popped the question. The rain was soft, but plentiful, on the day he asked you to be his wife. You could still remember the smell, the feeling of the rain pelting on your skin when you answered his proposal with a kiss. That was all that mattered.

You looked up and saw yourself through the mirrors. You were tearing happy tears, as your hand naturally moved up to your tummy to rub it gently. You could feel your heart pounding so loudly it was almost audible in the quiet room. You had requested to be alone for a moment so you could prepare yourself to announce the important news to Chris.

You dabbed your tears away with a napkin, straightened your dress, and exited the room. You passed a few of your close friends outside the dressing room and smiled at them. You further excused yourself to make your way to Chris’ dressing room. Taking a deep breath, you knocked on his door.

“Hey, what’s up, sis-in-law!” Scott greeted cheerfully as he opened the door with a wide grin on his face. You smiled cheekily as he gave you a quick peck on your cheeks. “My brother is so lucky, look at you!” Scott took a step back to look at you.

“Thanks, Scott.” You laughed. “Can I have a moment with Chris?”

Scott nodded and winked at you when he closed the door behind him, leaving just you and Chris in the room. You looked up and your gaze met with Chris’. He was wearing a maroon tuxedo with a bow tie, and your heart almost gave out at the sight. You may be becoming his wife in a few hours’ time, but you’d never stop fangirling over him.

Chris looked at you, his gaze soft and tender. He right hand was clutching on his chest, and you could tell he was trying to form words with his mouth, but nothing came out. You stepped forward to him and placed a hand on his face before tip-toeing to plant a kiss on his lips. “Hey.” You called out.

Chris kissed you back. It was the first time he had seen you in your wedding dress, and you could see from the look on his face that he loved it. “Y/N… You look… amazing.” He finally found his voice. You could hear a catch in his voice as he fought back his tears.

“You look really handsome, too.” You smiled, trying to stop your tears from falling as well.

You stood there with Chris, holding hands, unspeaking, just revelling in that very moment. It was a while before Chris finally spoke again. “Scott’s right, I’m a really guy to have you as my wife.” His voice was firmer now. You buried your face in Chris’ chest and smiled. “I love you, Chris.” You spoke against his chest, almost as if you were speaking right into his heart. You felt Chris’ chest moved and through vibrations from his voice, you heard him telling you that he loved you too.

“I’m really glad we’re having our wedding here.” You whispered, your head still resting on his chest. It was the most natural decision. When you were planning your wedding with Chris, you both had the same thought in mind to hold it at Concord Youth Theatre. This theatre held a very special place in Chris’ heart, and it was also the place where you met him. It was only natural to begin the rest of your life with Chris here.

“Mm, me too.” Chris replied, his hand tenderly rubbing your back.

You had no idea how long the two of you had stood there in each other’s embrace when you finally took a deep breath and gently pushed yourself away from Chris so you could see his face.

“Chris…” Your voice choking slightly. Chris looked at you, a hint of curiosity flashed across his face.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be married in just under an hour’s time. I’m so grateful for you, and I am so grateful you’re going to be walking this life journey with me.” You continued. “I am not perfect, but I promise I’ll use the rest of my life to love you as your wife… and... as the mother of your baby.” You were tearing again as you said those last words to him.

Chris looked at you, his face changing from curious to disbelief. You were almost whispering at the end of your sentence. Although Chris had heard you, he was afraid he had understood you wrongly. “Are you…” Chris held up your face with his hands to look at him, his eyes watery.

“Mm.” You cried as you raised your hands and took both of Chris’ hands to guide them over your belly. “That’s our baby in there.”

“Y/N…” Chris was crying too. He pulled you into his chest and embraced you tightly. You laughed, an cried at the same time, throwing your arms around Chris to return the embrace. "I wanted to tell you this before we head out there." You said, as Chris' chest heaved with a happy sob. He looked at you once again, and kissed you deeply, yet so tenderly. "I love you so much, Y/N."

You only had a little bit of time left to clean up your make up before the actual ceremony. It was easy to forget the concept of time when you were with Chris. Had Scott not come knocking on the door earlier, both of you would have continued to stay in that embrace.

Your girlfriends had rushed in to help you arrange your dress and to ensure you were ready. You had composed yourself by the time they saw you, so they had no idea you were just crying. Your father had come to your dressing room to bring you to the main theatre hall so he could walk you down the aisle. Behind the closed doors of the theatre, you heard the live instrumental music and choir singing of The Little Mermaid’s Happy Ending. The doors swung open, signalling for you to march in with your father. You looked at your father with tears in your eyes. He held out his arm for you to hold it, and gave your hand a little squeeze. Your father walked you down the theatre aisle towards Chris, who was standing at the end. The theatre was beautifully done up on this day with Disney inspired theme – where both of you were avid Disney fans.

You marched past all your close friends and families, throwing them smiles along the way, until you finally reached Chris, who had extended his arm to hold yours. Your father lightly gave you a peck on the cheeks and handed you to Chris. The both of you stood in front of the Minister, facing each other and holding gaze. Your heart was pounding as hard, if not even harder than the day Chris proposed to you. You were about to be his lawfully wedded wife.

The Minister called for Chris to read his vow.

“Y/N…” Chris choked back his tears. “You mean more to me than anything in this whole world. You are my greatest adventure and my dream wouldn’t be complete without you in it. I promise to love you forever, and always be with you. I promise to be the best husband I can be, and I promise to always take care of you. I want to promise you that I will love you and every single future children we’re going to have… starting from this one right here.” Chris vowed, and did a little point at your tummy at the end. As he said this, you heard an echo of gasps across the whole theatre floor. You laughed and smiled at Chris, tears forming in your eyes.

There was no time for your friends and families to fully react to the news as the Minister called for you to read your vows. “Chris, thank you for showing me that love is putting someone else’s needs before yours. Thank you for always putting me first in everything, for loving me so wholeheartedly for who I am. When I look at you, I can feel it. When I look at you, I’m home. I promise to be the best wife I can be, and I promise to always take care of you. And I promise to love you, as much as I’ll love our children.” Your tears were falling freely from your eyes now, just as Chris’ was.

You didn’t look at anyone else, but around you, you could hear your parents and Chris’ parents crying. Nobody else was talking, but the sounds of sniffing were all over the theatre, and you were sure there weren’t any dry eyes at that very moment.

The Minister’s voice gently broke through the sounds of crying, as he announced for the two of you to exchange rings. Just as he announced this, Dodger came running down the aisle with a ring pillow tied around his collar. He came forward to the both of you and sat down with his tail wagging excitedly. Chris bent down to pat Dodger on his head and removed one of the rings from his collar. Chris took your hand in his and slid the ring through your finger. The ring, inspired by the Little Mermaid, was specially designed by Chris himself, which held a seashell and a green gem in it.

It was then your turn. Dodger had stood up so you didn’t had to bend down too far to get Chris’ ring. You had also designed Chris’ ring for him. It was the same colour theme as The Little Mermaid, a movie both you and him loved. You took the ring and slid it through Chris’ finger.

With that, the Minister announced you and Chris as man and wife. The both of you were in tears, as with everyone else in the theatre, when Chris brought your face close and sealed the deal with a kiss.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans disney themed wedding #chris evans wedding #daddy chris evans #chris evans x reader imagines #chris evans request #chris evans x reader wedding #concord youth theatre

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frodo-with-glasses · 3 years ago

Text

I’m still thinking about this scene. We know from the Council of Elrond that Bilbo feels at least partially responsible for the Ring; he volunteered to destroy it, seeing as he was the one who brought it out of the cave and “started” this whole mess.

They tell him that the Ring is no longer his responsibility—that it’s passed on, and he can do little to help destroy it—but how must he feel, seeing that the burden is placed on the shoulders (or, rather, on the neck) of his nephew instead? This is the closest family that he has, a boy he’d adopted when he was very young and has grown to love like his own son. Carrying the burden yourself is one thing, but isn’t it worse to inflict it on someone you love, while you stand there utterly unable to help?

He turns away. Hums a tune, tries to avoid Frodo’s eye. He doesn’t want him to worry. He doesn’t want him to know how conflicted he is. The little lad who chased fireflies in his yard at Bag End is now all grown up (when did that happen, how is he already fifty, where did the time go and here I was far away and missed it) and is now heading off on a journey that might take him right into the mouth of danger and the fires of Mordor. Bilbo is worried. What if something happens? What if he doesn’t come back safe? He puts a shirt of mithril on him and tells him to keep it secret—because it can’t be stolen if no one knows it’s there—and gives him a sword and tries to console himself that that’s all he can do, he’s protected his boy as best he can, and now the rest is up to him, but it isn’t a comfort.

(He sort of wishes he had been chosen as the bearer. At least to hold it…one last time…it’s there, it’s so close, it’s on a chain around his soft little neck, and if he took him by surprise then maybe he could knock him down and get both hands around his windpipe and squeeze…but the thought terrifies him, horrifies him, how could this thing even make him think that, and how much worse that this horrid mind-leech is now the burden of his beloved nephew and it’s his fault, it’s his fault, it’s my fault—)

And then Frodo says, “Thank you.” He says, “I’ll miss you.” He says, “For taking me into your home, and raising me, and telling me your stories, and dealing with the dirt stains on your floor and the oatmeal cookies snuck out of the jar and the holes torn in the elbows and knees of all my nice clothes and all the other headaches and worries that come with raising a child on your own—for being there, for nurturing me, for what you did to make my life whole and bountiful and good—thank you. You know I love you, don’t you?”

And I firmly refuse to believe that Bilbo is not fighting tears at this point—mostly because he’s an old hobbit, and he cries so much easier than he used to—but also because it’s overwhelming, the utter affection and love with which Frodo sees him. He’s not sure he deserves it. He’s made it his life’s goal to be a sassy, smart-aleck son of a Baggins and make it everyone else’s problem, and how he managed to earn the admiration of a sweet lad like Frodo is entirely beyond him.

(In a way, it makes handing off this burden even more painful.)

So he laughs. Brushes it off with a joke. Slaps him on the back, and the mithril stings his hand enough that it distracts him from his tears. But he can’t keep up the pretense for too long—he’s an old hobbit, and he’s gotten sentimental—and he tells Frodo to take care of himself (because who else will?), to come back with news (because he refuses to even entertain the idea that he won’t come back), and to look for him when he comes back this way, because “as long as I am still alive when you return, I’ll be here waiting; and yes, I love you too.”

I love you too.

#bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #long post #shut up and let me gush about hobbits being soft

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swbumblebee · 4 years ago

Text

“Stop it.”

Mace Windu was a Jedi Master, and as such had years of training resulting in near limitless patience.

A limit, however, that his closest companion and partner in time-travel was testing with his constant pacing. And huffing.

Plo Koon ignored his request. Mace sighed.

“Would you just sit down? You’re not going to bring them home any quicker and you’re wearing down my rug” he warned.

Plo looked at him, looked down at the rug, and continued pacing.

“I don’t know what you’re worried about” Mace continued, happily ignoring the sulky silence. “We know their mission goes well, we’ve done this before!” he exclaimed. “It’s a resounding success and half a planet ends up with a crush on Obi-Wan.” He said matter-of-fact.

He felt a reluctant pulse of amusement from Plo in the Force, as much as the man tried to keep it off his face. Mace could always tell.

He stood up, joining him in front of the sofa.

“Nobody gets blown up, nobody gets injured.” He reminded gently. “The Tume agreement is signed, as it is every year, and they both live to worry us another day” he said kindly.

Plo shook his head.

“I know how it went last time. I remember the debate” he corrected. “But things could be different my friend, we have changed the timeline. The smallest difference could be vital, and we have made a very large difference.” Plo explained, in his usual measured voice. “We have altered young Anakin’s temperament; Force only knows that he’ll do. And Obi-Wan has much less to prove.”

Mace frowned. His friend was making some irritatingly good points, but he remembered the two boys standing in the council room not one week ago; a familiar determined glint in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s eye that, in the coming years, would move planets, and Skywalker looking up at all the Masters as if they hung the stars.

“They will not disappoint us” Mace said surely.

Plo stopped.

“I know” he sighed. “I just…worry. It is most unbecoming of a Jedi” the Kel Door admitted.

Mace smiled.

“We are no longer typical Jedi my friend, and you are not the only one.”

It was true. Despite his words of reassurance, waving the two off in the hanger had brought a distinct clench in his stomach, and the training droids in the dojo had had a very long week.

Both froze, two very familiar force presences making themselves known, and not a moment later Mace’s commlink chirped shrilly.

They grinned at each other.

“Windu”

“Master, Knight Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker have just requested permission to land” the unidentified voice on the other end of the call informed them professionally.

“Thank you, Windu out.” He closed the link without a second thought, already grabbing his cloak and joining Plo, standing impatiently, by the door.

“Wait – we can’t both go!” Mace exclaimed, the thought suddenly occurring to him as Plo reached for the door control.

The other Jedi looked at him, clearly irritated.

“Why not?”

Mace rolled his eyes. One of them had to be sensible.

“Plo, how’s that going to look? Two senior council members waiting for a new Knight and a Junior Padawan? People already think we’re too close” he exclaimed, frustrated with his friend.

Whilst they both had a wildly different attitude towards the A Word (developed over the course of the war and in their new situation) appearances were something they had to be mindful of.

Whilst his expression did not change, the Force around Plo expressed just how much of a toss he gave about appearances.

His friend folded his arms.

“Alright, we can re-convene at the flat later. I will meet them in the hanger.” He said calmly, as if it was some kind of compromise.

Mace raised one eyebrow.

“Any why do you get to welcome them home?” he asked archly.

“You waved them off” Plo said simply. “It is my turn.”

“Ah that’s not how-Plo!” he cried out, outraged as Plo quickly opened the door and strode out into the corridor, pushing Mace gently back with the Force whilst he made his escape.

Leaving the Master of the Order spluttering at the injustice of it all, in his wake.

---

Plo was working hard to keep his happiness behind his shields as he strode into the hanger just in time to see the temple shuttle land. He ran a critical eye over it, having a sudden vision of Skywalker’s battered old ship in that first timeline. As liable to explode as it was to put the wipers on.

Thank goodness that was a bridge to be crossed in the future. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for Anakin adopting ships.

Obi-Wan ruffled young Anakin’s hair, laughing as the boy tried to squirm away, as they descended the ramp. The playful scowl on Anakin’s face transformed into excitement as he sensed Plo and turned to him, held back from running over for his usual hug by his Master’s lightning quick reflexes, grabbing a wrist and holding him back.

Plo sent a wave of welcome over to them both in the Force as they came closer, a genuine smile on Obi-Wan’s face and Anakin practically buzzing with excitement.

Obi-Wan bowed deeply in respect, clearly nudging Anakin through their training bond to do the same, and the boy hastily followed suit.

Plo held a hand up and nodded at them both as they rose smiling. Both looked absolutely fine, perhaps Obi-Wan a little tired, but Plo had a feeling that was more to do with the energetic ten-year -old he’d just spent a week with, than the challenge of the mission.

“Welcome back” Plo once again pushed his pleasure at them in the Force. Predictably, Obi-Wan’s eyes slid away from looking him in the face, but he smiled gratefully all the same as Plo plucked the bulky pack out of his hands and shouldered it. Anakin nearly skipped as they all headed towards the exit and made for the Kenobi/Skywalker residence.

“Thank you Master, it’s good to see you-“

“Master Plo, it was so wizard we went in a hyperlane and the pilot let me sit up front and Chose was awesome Master it was hailing when we got there, like really hard rain! And they had massive beds and loads of puddings and me and Master Obi-Wan went to a play with singing-“

As the child rambled excitedly on, Plo shared a bemused look with a resigned Obi-Wan, sending him a wave of amused sympathy at him in the Force. Received with a dry raise of the young man’s eyebrows.

It must have been a long week for the twenty-three-year-old.

Content to let the child’s happiness wash over him, and Obi-Wan appearing to enjoy the lack of expected contribution for once, the journey to the flat was mostly uneventful, only a few Jedi casting them amused looks at Anakin’s wild gesticulating.

“Anakin, Obi-Wan!”

They were stopped from keying in the door code by Mace’s cry of greeting as he rounded the corner towards the little group. Ignoring Plo he went straight up to the boys, Anakin beaming at him and Obi-Wan bowing once again.

“Master”

“Hi Master Mace! Guess what? We saw hail on Chose and-

“Anakin” Obi-Wan blissfully interrupted before the whole recount could begin again. “Why don’t we get inside and get the tea on and then you can tell Master Mace and Master Plo all about our mission” he suggested firmly, in a way that was definitely not a suggestion.

“Yes Master”

Obi-Wan keyed in their code and stepped inside, Anakin following happily kicking off his boots by the door.

Mace, still giving Plo the cold shoulder, stepped inside first. And made a distinct noise of surprise. Plo followed curiously looking over his shoulder.

“Obi-Wan – what happened?” he asked, aghast.

Plo held back an unseemly laugh.

The flat was a tip.

There were robes on the floor, he spotted two pairs of boots sticking out from under the sofa and a discarded pack under the table. What looked like the entire Temple’s supply of mugs were scattered on almost every surface, alongside precariously stacked datapads and flimsy piles on the tables and on the floor, some of which had fallen over.

As he picked his way across the room, avoiding random bits of droid and one or two power tools, Plo could spy a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the kitchen counter when he peered inside, and about three days worth of washing up. A laundry basket was sitting next to the washing machine, overflowing with brown and beige.

The two young Jedi stood awkwardly in the middle of the flat.

Obi-Wan flushed a little.

“Ah, we left on quite short notice” he offered.

“I don’t think it’s that bad really” Anakin offered with an awkward shrug, slyly kicking something further under the sofa.

“This is….” Mace was lost for words. Whilst Plo hadn’t spent much time in Master Kenobi’s home the first time around, he had always thought the man to be fastidiously clean, and what he had seen had been very tidy.

Anakin however, was no surprise.

Plo could sense Mace doing the same thing he was, adding “domestic help” to the Obi-Wan Support List. They’d been so focussed on studies and their boy’s personal development they completely forgot that the Knight had never lived by himself before, never mind taken care of a youngling!

Obi-Wan apologetically shoved some pads and an old robe off the sofa to make space and disappeared into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

The two Masters sat down gingerly. Anakin on the floor opposite.

“Your mission was a success?” Plo asked conversationally as Obi-Wan reappeared with the mugs of tea. Plo caught Mace peering at the rim for signs of prior use, and gave him a look.

“Yeah” Anakin answered before Obi-Wan could get a word in “the Chosians didn’t like me at first but they really liked Master Obi-Wan and they spent ages talking. And people kept giving him stuff.” The boy explained with a disgusted expression. “Flowers and cakes and-“

“Yes thank you Padawan” Obi-Wan interrupted loudly, his ears turning a rather bright shade of pink. Mace smirked at him and Plo sent his partner a mental swat.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

“The mission was a success and the Tume Agreement has been updated and signed.” The Knight took a sip of his tea. “We will not need to go back for a while, it should be valid for another ten years” he finished casually as if accomplishing something no Jedi had managed before, on his first mission, was an afterthought.

Mace and Plo shared a look.

Just like last time.

It was a huge relief that their presence had had no adverse effects on the Negotiator’s skills. As Plo sat and listened to Mace congratulate the blushing young man he had a thought.

What could these two, The Team; the best Jedi of his generation and the most powerful force user ever, accomplish with the support of Mace and Plo this time around?

The Sith had better pack their bags. He thought smugly.

---

To get a feel for the whole set up of Obi-Wan Anakin’s first mission when they were assigned it “the first time around” read this Snippet Of Nothing, which is the mission being discussed, and is from the councils point of view.

#Space Dads Go Time Travelling #plo koon #mace windu #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Bby anakin #fluff #Old married couple Mace and Plo #surprisingly messy Obi-Wan #bit long this one #obi-wan fanfic

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uncanny8ellen · 2 years ago

Text

How I fell for the bastard,

Karl Heisenberg

I remember the exact moment I fell in love with our all time favorite, showy, ill-tempered metal engineer. I was watching YouTube videos, cuz that's what I do for pastime activity when I got no brain power for books. I watch game plays mostly. I was watching Markiplier video, and yes, him gushing over the infamous 'Lady dimidom' was cute. Mark u simp lol.

Anyway when he first showed up I wasn't that interested. His voice was good,kinda familiar, then I realized it's Neil Newborn. I realllllly liked Elijah Kamsky from dbh, so I was glad to know he voice acted in the game.

Back to our mechanic. His vibe? Cool. Smoking cigar, giant metal hammer slung over shoulder, kinda military look. Oh, nice sunglasses, dude. His speech too. "Well, well. Didn't think anyone was left! You must be preeetty tough, huh." My immediate thought was, 'oh he's got a showman's vibe!' All the metals levitating in the air, and I knew he was trouble for our guy Ethan. Duke only confirmed my suspicion later. After Ethan got dragged to the trial I laughed at "-and if a man's dick is cut off in the castle blah blah blah.", also at the "nothing like fresh American ground beef!"

Then after Ethan's murderous journey to get his ikea furniture equivalent of daughter, a TV crackles. And I was like, oh? Deja vu? But he was different from Lukas Baker. Much less chaotic, for one. He didn't seem that psychotic compared to that guy. More put together. I saw the whole, 'landing a hand' coming from miles away. Duke did say he's the most dangerous one, after all. And I had a feeling that he wasn't just referring to his mutant power.

With all the purring and threatening, it was more amusing if anything. Testing the person who murdered 3 Lords, Vârcolacs, Lycans in the village all on his own with guns, bombs and some herb juice, by sending him to the lycan infested stronghold. To me Ethan was just one hell of a guy. Sure we all suspected he's not human, but imagine a normal computer engineering guy going through all that. Damn. And Heisenberg was ballsy enough to test him. That or he really was the strongest. Either way, I liked his style. "See you, Ethan." Bless ya Neil Newborn.

And really, when Ethan got to the factory (I absolutely love industrial vibe. Didn't really know he was a metal-welding, real mechanic sort of guy until Ethan got to the factory. REAL ASS ENGINEER WHO OWNS A BIGASS FACTORY), I was a bit excited. Even from outside, the building was big. And just like him, the place was unpredictable. After all the hype, I wanted to see this guy's deal.

Then comes the 'proposal scene'. Yes the one where Karl confesses his undying love for Ethan and asks him to marry him.

Kiddin. That voice clip still cracks me up. All hail Neil Newborn.

When Ethan pulled the cloth away and BAM! conspiracy board showed up, I was smiling. Then the devil pops outta nowhere, walking n talking like a showboat he is, and although I was sure the guy had quite a temper, considering his earlier outburst at the church, his movements seemed.....weirdly calculated. When he slammed that chair down and told Ethan to take a seat, that move seemed calculated too.

That made me actually pause the video and think. Everything about him exuded pride. From the very moment he's introduced in the game, he was nothing but charisma and confidence. 'Most dangerous Lord'. A recluse. Huge factory.

And I wondered. Is that enough for him?

The main reason I didn't find him that great of a character was because at first, I felt the villians were a bit flat. Actually, I found all of the Lords a bit...boring up until Ethan escaped the gauntlet. Everything felt cliché, a heroic father looking for his daughter and defeating monsters. Just another fairy tale. Another bad vs good.

Then I saw how Lady Dimitrescu cried for her daughters. Daniela saying she doesn't want to die before she turns to ash, although she did try to murder Ethan. Shocking reveal of Donna lying in the place of Angie, eyes vacant, blood trickling down her face. And yes, I noticed the bloody hand prints she left at the door frame and wallpapers as she was running away from Ethan. That was heartbreaking. Letting her gardener see his loved one again. Claudia Beneviento...

I don't know much about Moreau, but I do know he got multiple cadous implanted. Maybe that's why his mutation was unstable. Cheese loving, cheesy romantic movies loving, cheesy guy that got effed in the head and is a kid looking for his mommy. That was just...sigh. He had to be put down. Damn Miranda.

Then there was this guy who was clearly smart and ambitious. I started to get excited. I resumed the video. "It's a test. To see if you're strong enough to be apart of Mirander's family." 'You're way off the mark, pal,' I thought. But that was a valid guess.

"Neither did I, but here we are!" Being forced into a 'family'. That was interesting. Of course this wild man could never tolerate the confines of his laughable 'family'.

"Kill me, move up the chain, well fuck that!" Yeah! Fuck that! Fuck the cult bullshit! I got reeeally excited. Here I also noticed his voice sounding a little weird. Slightly distorted.

Then the revving started up again. It dawned on me why my intuition was screaming at me about that chair slam. 'DANGER!!!' The guy seemed all brash and brutish but he had a plan. This guy was smart. Not booksmart or wisdom smart, but the way he acted. The chair was directly in front of that hole.

Take the outsider to Mother dearest. Brownie point + avoid suspicion. Waiting until Ethan takes out other Lords. Strong guy? Potential ally. Negotiation first, if fail, down you go. I personally like the headcannon where Heisenberg was the one who painted yellow all over the village. The ammo crates, levers, everything. Makes sense too, he did write those 'papa' signs with yellow paint.

"You and me, Ethan. Together we go save Rose, and we can USE her, to grind Mirander into paste." I immediately knew Ethan was gonna say fuck no to that. What father would agree to use her daughter like that?

But it was at that moment. That moment, my heart just stopped. Yes I died. In my mind, such pleasant realization just poured into my chest. Oh. Oh, he was a rebel. Up against the control freak of a cult leader.

Hey let's go kill my bitch of a surrogate mother. I'm sick of her cult bs, she insane. Imma gon blast her wanna join?

As soon as I realized he's not one of Miranda's pawns, but an unhinged individual planning to take her down, a person, not some toy soldier, I wanted nothing else other than shaking his damn hand. I wanted it so bad. So bad. Why capcom. I get that Ethan wouldn't take that deal. But goddammit.

I fell hard. Been simping ever since. Anything else after that were just cherries and fruit cocktails on top. His maniacal laughter, complaining on speakers while Ethan fights for his life, experiment logs, 'interesting body', HE HAS A CYBORG UNDEAD ARMY?!?!? Heart eyes motherfucker. Production line of soldiers. 'Heisenberg's quarter' but Karl it's a workshop. Where's bed Karl. Karl. Do you sleep on the fucking floor? You doze off sitting in chair?

Stepping down that floating metal stairs with ease. SKILL. Bullet deflected, again, deflected, oh what's this? That distortion from earlier. His voice changing. HIM MUTATING. "Don't, come, hmm Back!!" Just cutting off the platform so Ethan falls in water. Could've killed him right there. Do you like the guy Karl? That why you spared him? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Rain pours and it's so fitting. God. That metal colossus. I shouted, "Fuck didn't know I'm into that shit! Guess I'm a monster fucker then!" And I loved the fight. His theme song. Even his crystal was beautiful.

Miranda's boss fight was anticlimactic compared to his. It was just so intense. Ethan needed a freaking tank and just some luck (Karl turning himself into a fan/grinder and exposing his main reactor. Ethan managed to get back on tank in the air and fire the rpg one last time) to beat him. His boss fight is actually the most difficult out of all the bosses in the game, and if you try village of shadow difficulty, he's almost impossible to kill.

Capcom please, show us that man doing many bad but kinda cool things in DLC I love that man. Please. Let him kill the witch and be the true maniac he is! Come on! Free the rabid man! He belongs in the wild!!!

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #lord karl heisenberg #resident evil 8 #ethan winters #mother miranda #alcina demitriscu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #iron steed #rant #midnight rants #A wild horse running across the field in abondon. What's wrong with wanting to see that?#i need death or coffee #I love you bastard #mad engineer

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purrincess-chat · 3 years ago

Text

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH28

What does Chloe have in store for Marinette? Find out next week! As I stated on AO3, once I post chapter 30, I’m going to take another month off to let my betas finish up the last few chapters, then in October if we are all finished, I will be posting two chapters a week on Mondays and Fridays to finish this story out. It’s been a long journey rewriting it, but I’m much happier with the outcome this time. I hope you’re all excited to see the rest of the changes to this story. I know I can’t wait to share them!

Previous First Next AO3

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

Chapter 28: End Game

Morning light streamed through the window, casting golden rays across Marinette’s cheeks. The urgent screech of her alarm blared on the shelf above her head, vibrating the loft in its tantrum. She blinked, then immediately squeezed her eyes shut again, sitting up out of the sun. Kicking the blankets from around her legs, she palmed for her phone, clumsily tapping the screen with a yawn. Sleep had eluded her most of the night for more reasons than one, and the previous day’s events replayed on loop as she slogged through her morning routine.

Had all of it really happened? The museum, her old friends, the akuma, Emerald Shell, Lila… And she’d gone to Chloe of all people for help. When had she fallen so low? And how long did Marinette have to be on this rollercoaster? Wasn’t there an emergency exit she could use?

She splashed water on her face, leaning against the sink with a sigh. Not all of it was bad at least. She and Adrien got to spend the evening together, though the sweetness diminished as a result of the afternoon’s events. Even still, there were worse ways to end a trying day than being spoon-fed chocolate mousse by the boy of her dreams.

Marinette stared at her reflection, droplets dripping from her chin like the countless tears she’d cried the past month. So much had changed since she left. Her face still looked the same, but the girl inside was different than the one who walked out of Francoise-Dupont a month ago. Her eyes carried a new determination.

Lila had gone too far, and Marinette wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. Starting today, everything was going to change.

“Marinette! You’re going to be late for school!” her mother called up the stairs.

Marinette dried her face and slipped on her blazer.

“Coming!”

Things were normal at school. People were buzzing about the latest akuma and the appearance of Emerald Shell. Martin held his head a little higher, though his cheeks never lost their rosy hue, especially when Macy gushed about how Emerald Shell saved her. It wasn’t until art class that they realized Marinette was being unusually quiet.

“How did things go with Adrien?” Eliott asked, looking up from the fruit bowl they were all painting.

“Adrien was fine,” Marinette said. “It was Lila I had to worry about.”

“Still?” Macy winced. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story…” Marinette sighed, wiping her brush on a rag.

“We’ve got a whole hour.” Martin pointed out, and they all looked at Marinette expectantly.

Marinette smiled, reassured by their eagerness. They really were the best friends in the world. She took a deep breath before diving in, and her friends listened to every detail intently.

“Whoa, she really did that to you?” Lisette asked when she finished. “And I thought Gabrielle was awful.”

“Lila is an attention-seeking manipulator, and she crushes anyone who gets in her way,” Marinette said bitterly. “I hate to drag you guys into this—mostly because I barely want to be dragged into this—but-”

“Oh, we’ll totally help,” Macy said. “If there’s one thing rich people love to do it’s brag about our accomplishments and make other people look inferior.”

“I can text around and try to set up a hangout with Prince Ali next time he passes through Paris.” Eliott offered.

“My dad’s in a group that plays tennis with a few ambassadors. I’m sure he could help us set up a youth program to push a Go Green effort here in Paris.” Martin added.

“Sometimes I babysit for the president’s niece, so I could see about getting her deported,” Lisette said with a cheery grin, and everyone turned to her with horrified expressions. “I’m kidding, but it’s an option.”

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re kicking awful people out of the country.” Eliott nuzzled her cheek with his nose.

“Anything you need, Marinette, we’ve got your back,” Macy said, placing a hand over hers. “We’re behind you all the way.”

Marinette pulled her in for a hug, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Even though she regretted running from her problems, Marinette didn’t regret meeting her new friends. They helped her when she needed it most, and for that, she would always be grateful. With these people by her side, Lila wasn’t going to know what hit her.

♪♫♪ This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things ♪♫♪

Marinette paced the length of the living room a week later, chewing her nails. The awards show had finally arrived, and Clara would be walking the red carpet in one of Marinette’s original designs. It was the biggest moment of her life, and she couldn’t sit still.

Her mom smiled, setting the cake she’d just finished decorating on the table. “Everything is going to be fine, dear. Your designs were wonderful, and Clara loved them.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean all of the famous fashion critics are going to. People talk about award show outfits for weeks, mom! If everyone hates Clara’s dress, I’m going to be front-page news for worst-dressed all month!” Marinette groaned.

“There’s no way anyone will hate your designs. My daughter has all the talent in the world!” Her father scooped her up, planting a kiss on her cheek.

The doorbell rang, and Marinette rushed to answer it.

“Congratulations!” Her friends cheered.

Macy pulled her in for a tight hug. “I can’t wait to see which design Clara picked! They were all so good.”

“I can’t believe Clara picked you over Gabriel Agreste. You are so lucky, Marinette,” Lisette said.

“She’s amazingly talented. My father didn’t stand a chance,” Adrien said with a laugh. He presented a bouquet of roses with a shy smile. “Congratulations, mon ange.”

Marinette stretched up to kiss his cheek. Taking his hand, she ushered everyone inside where they didn’t hesitate to make themselves at home. Eliott and Martin moved for the snacks while Macy and Lisette settled on the couch. Marinette’s mother reached for a vase on the top shelf, stretching up on her toes.

“Let me.” Adrien stepped in and grabbed it with ease.

“Thank you, dear. Marinette picked such a sweet boyfriend.” Her mother beamed. “She used to talk about you so much. Every day, she’d come home from school and tell us all about how green your eyes are and-”

“Mom!” Marinette shot her a silencing look.

“I’m flattered. Marinette is a wonderful girl. You and Mr. Dupain must be really proud that a celebrity like Clara commissioned her,” Adrien replied smoothly. He shot Marinette a wink when her mom changed the subject. Why was he so perfect?

“Ooo! It’s starting!” Macy squealed.

Marinette and Adrien squeezed onto the couch next to Macy and Eliott. She leaned her head on his shoulder, twining their fingers together. Having her friends around eased some of her nerves, but her heartbeat escalated every time someone new moved to the front of the line.

“How long until we get to see your dress?” her dad asked.

“I don’t know. The red carpet doesn’t really have a set schedule.” Marinette shrugged.

“Okay, we’ll just wait,” he said, trying to seem nonchalant, though his impatience showed each time he shifted or cleared his throat.

Marinette chewed her nails as other artists and celebrities made their appearances, leg bouncing until Eliott reached over to stop it. She flashed him a sheepish grin but resumed tapping the moment he turned away.

Clara’s name flashed at the bottom of the screen, and Marinette cupped her hands over her mouth. Everyone leaned forward as she approached the camera in a colorful, flowing gown.

“She’s wearing my favorite!” Marinette squeaked between her fingers. Her dad patted her knee as her mom turned up the volume on the television.

“Standing here on the red carpet with Best Pop Artist nominee Clara Nightingale,” the reporter said, turning to Clara with a smile. “Clara, can I just say you look lovely tonight? Who are you wearing?”

“My dress was designed by someone sweet; a teen whose talent can’t be beat. More beautiful than any melody I’ve ever sang, this dress is by Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Clara twirled around, the skirt of the dress rippling with color.

Marinette buried her face in a couch pillow with a shrill scream. Adrien rubbed her back with a laugh. She shot up again, eyes glued to the screen as Clara gushed about the details of her dress before the conversation steered toward her award nomination.

“Can I just say? Stun-ning!” Eliott said.

“That dress is everything! It looks even better than it did on paper.” Macy agreed.

“A celebrity wearing my daughter’s original designs! I always knew someone would recognize how amazing you are.” Her dad pulled her in for a tight hug.

“We’re so proud of you, honey. We know how hard you worked,” her mom said.

“You did an amazing job, Marinette.” Adrien pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Well, we have to get back to the bakery, so we’ll let you kids watch the rest together, okay?” Her mother passed Macy the remote.

“Good night.” Marinette waved as they stood and took their leave.

“Actually, I should go too. I forgot to do my physics homework,” Macy said, standing up. “Martin, can you come help me? It’ll take me hours if you don’t.”

Martin flicked his gaze over to Marinette and nodded. “Uh, yeah, I can do that.”

“Oh, ya know, I just remembered that I promised my dad we’d help him with that thing,” Lisette said.

“Oh yeah! Sorry, it’s like a big, complicated thing. We need to go too.” Eliott nodded. “Congrats again. You’re amazing and wonderful, and you deserve this more than anyone.”

“Thanks.” Marinette smiled.

“See you tomorrow!” Macy called as they all shuffled out the door.

“Is it just me or was that a lot of lame excuses?” Marinette tilted her head.

“I asked them to give us some time alone.” Adrien admitted.

“Oh.” Marinette’s cheeks warmed as Adrien wrapped an arm around her.

“I know things have been crazy lately, but in a way, I’m really glad all of this happened. I might not have ever realized how I felt about you if it hadn’t,” he said. “It’s a weird positive that’s come from everything.”

“Yeah.” Marinette leaned against his shoulder with a smile. “I’m happy things worked out. I never would have told you how I felt otherwise.”

“Did you really tell your parents how cute I was?” he asked with a smirk.

“I- Well, I didn’t- I mean-” She buried her face in his shirt with a groan.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard you stammer like that. I forgot how cute it is.” Adrien chuckled.

“It’s your fault.” She jabbed his chest with one finger. “You’re so cute. It makes me all flustered.”

“Hmm, then I wonder how you’ll react to this.” He reached into his pocket to retrieve a long jewelry case, opening it to reveal a small pink diamond necklace.

“Adrien!”

“I wanted to get you something to remember me by since we go to different schools now. I miss you like crazy, so I thought that maybe you could at least have a small piece of me when we’re apart,” he said. “Do you like it?”

“Adrien…” Marinette cupped a hand over her mouth. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

The gem was warm against her skin as Adrien fastened it around her neck, a physical reminder of his love. They’d overcome so much together, and while their fight was far from over, at least Marinette had him.

Adrien turned her jaw to face him, brushing her cheek with his thumb. Those warm green eyes softened as he leaned in, and Marinette closed her eyes. His breath swirled hot on her lips when they brushed, sending a jolt up her spine. Her heart hammered in a frenzy, building rapidly in anticipation. But just as release came, his pocket buzzed, and they both crashed down to earth again.

With a short sigh, Adrien pulled back and retrieved his phone, quirking a brow at the caller ID.

“It’s Chloe,” he said. “Hell-”

“Were you two going to list Dupain-Cheng designing for Clara Nightingale among our assets, or was I just supposed to figure that out myself?” She scolded.

“Sorry. It was kind of-”

“No time for excuses. I need to propose this to you before I change my mind. I know the perfect way to enact your plan,” Chloe said with a groan. “I hate myself for even considering it.”

“What are you suggesting?” Adrien’s eyebrows furrowed.

“We’re going to make Dupain-Cheng famous, and I think I know the perfect way to do it.”

#mdcspr #marinette dupain-cheng's spite playlist remix #my writing

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appleteeth · 3 years ago

Text

Bruce Week Fic #6

Sunday (July 25): Grief, Magic

(Warnings for mentions of domestic and child abuse.)

It was funny, being friends with someone who knew magic. Loki had somehow, after everything they had been through, become one of Bruce’s closest confidant on board the spaceship taking them to Earth. First they would merely nod at one-another in quiet respect, then Loki stopped Bruce in the corridor one day to explain how something seemingly innocuous he had done was actually offensive in Asgardian culture and Bruce, though wary he was tricking him, thanked him.

Then Bruce would make a habit of finding Loki in the makeshift dining hall and sitting with him, not exactly striking up conversation but letting him know they could talk, if he wanted to.

A few months into the journey and Loki was spotted laughing loudly at something Bruce had said, and whilst it made Thor a little nervous to see them getting along so well, it was also a relief. They were both part of his Royal Council, after all, so they needed to get along for the sake of his people.

Then, when Bruce moaned to himself about being unable to find what he needed in the cramped medical bay, Loki produced the vial out of thin air and handed it to him.

“That still freaks me out,” Bruce told him before taking the vial tentatively.

“I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t,” he said with a smirk.

“How does it work? Are you pulling items from somewhere else? Are you taught how to use magic or is it instinctual? Could I learn magic or is it an Asgardian thing?”

“No, I was taught by my mother and yes… to an extent. You wouldn’t be able to conjure items or control objects but you can learn basic spells.”

Bruce was excited for barely a second before he frowned. “Are you messing with me again?”

“Bruce, I have come to find you… relatively welcome company. I enjoy our conversations, even if you are a Midgardian.”

“Bit prejudiced, but thank you.”

“So I’m not messing with you,” Loki concluded. “I can give you some basic spells to try that will give you more insight into your being.”

“I, uh, think I’ve had enough insight lately," he said warily.

And Loki smiled, this time without a mischievous glint in his eye.

"What if I were to teach you a spell that helped you in ways you never knew you needed?"

Bruce snuck into the medical bay late into the evening whilst the rest of the ship went to sleep. It was the one place he knew he wouldn't be disturbed, especially as Asgardians were so resilient to injury, they barely came to him with less than a severed limb.

He read through the instructions Loki had written in elaborate cursive, mostly in English but certain words wouldn't translate so he had to work through how to pronounce them before starting. It was oddly pleasant following the instructions step by step, like he was trying out a new recipe, only this was more writing specific phrases in runes than measuring out ingredients.

He had to write the words as naturally as possible, like he had been writing in the language his entire life, recite them outloud and then… go to sleep. Which was easier said than done when he was expecting something miraculous to happen. He crept back into his shared dorm with seven other passengers and lay down, hoping that whatever was supposed to happen would actually help him.

He finally drifted off and there he found himself travelling, not sure what he was facing was a dream or effects of the spell, but welcoming it nonetheless.

He was standing in an old-fashioned kitchen, meticulously clean down to the top of the cabinets where nobody would ever bother to look. Whoever's domain this was, it was so well looked after it could very well be a showroom.

There were a few signs of life, however. There was a small stack of plates ready to be cleaned, a few novelty magnets on the refrigerator, a Captain America action figure on the table…

Bruce stopped, looking at the toy and realising where he was. He had spent so long trying to forget his childhood home he didn't even recognise the kitchen anymore. But he knew that toy like it was imprinted on his mind, having spent many hours clutching it, talking to it, wishing the real Cap was there to save him.

"I'm so sorry I kept you waiting, would you like some water?"

And he spun on his heel to see her. It was so odd to view her now that he was a little taller than her, instead of being small enough to wrap his arms around her legs. She was still as beautiful as the pictures but she wasn't memorialised in his mind like some sort of perfect being. Her sweater was threadbare at the elbows, her hair was a little frizzy (thick curls like his, almost identical in colour) and she had dark circles under her eyes. She also wore glasses, which Bruce had completely forgotten because she took them off for photos.

"Uh…" he didn't know what to say to her.

"You must be parched, here," and Rebecca poured him a glass of water from a pitcher she kept in the fridge. "Piping in new houses is never deep enough to keep water cool, not like the old days."

He was still trying to find words when he realised a vision shouldn't be able to hand him things, and he shouldn't be able to feel the cool water tumbling down his throat.

"So, you wanted to talk about Robbie?"

He nearly choked on the last mouthful and hid it with a loud cough.

"Um, yes," he said, not sure who he was supposed to be in this scenario but going along with it all the same.

His mother nodded and indicated for him to sit down with her at the kitchen table. Again, it felt so strange to be big enough for a chair he used to sit at every day as a kid, his legs swinging and needing a cushion so he could reach the table properly.

"His teacher said he's been excelling," she said proudly but then immediately frowned. "You didn't speak to my husband, did you?"

"No, of course not," and he now knew his role like he had read the script. "Yes, young Br… Robbie has been working really hard and it's clear to see he is clever."

She smiled, but it was juxtaposed by her sad eyes. "You're going to say he should be in a gifted school, aren't you?"

"Uh…"

"Well I'm sorry but he can't. He just… can't." And she sighed tiredly before collecting herself. "I'm sorry, it's just--"

"I know," Bruce said quietly. "You don't have to explain your reasons. I know you would want the best education for him, but sometimes that can't happen."

And he couldn't help himself, she was right there in front of him. He put his hand over hers and squeezed it in comfort.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"And it's not like kids won't excel as adults just because they missed out on extra tutoring," he continued. "They'll catch up in no time and go on to do great things."

She smiled warmly and Bruce recognised his own features in hers. He never thought he looked like her, always hating how he was the spitting image of his father, but he saw himself in her smile.

"I hope so. Do you know he can name every bird he sees? Even the scientific names. He read about bird watching and within a day he was telling me facts about each one."

Bruce couldn't help but grin, having forgotten about that particular hyperfixation. "Is that so?"

"If he could… that is, if we agreed he could go to a gifted school, I suspect he would get a scholarship for college, maybe even go early."

She looked furious, if just for a moment, letting her guard down enough to show how she really felt. Bruce had never seen her angry; she had hid it well when he was small and already so scared of someone else's anger. She had shown him nothing but smiles and positivity, desperate to make his life as normal as possible.

But he remembered hearing her crying behind the bedroom door, trying to suppress her sobs so she could go read her child a bedtime story like nothing was wrong. The illusion was shattered that day.

"You are doing everything you possibly can for your son. More than everything. You--"

He stopped himself. Was this really a dream or had he really travelled back? What would it mean if he told her?

"I will lay down my life for him," she finished, eyes defiant and full of fury.

He felt his facade fading, no longer able to pretend he wasn't who he really was.

"You're going to save my life. Over and over. Until that bastard kills you for it."

He cried, clutching her hand and unable to look at her. She shouldn't have sacrificed herself for him. She wasn't supposed to be known as just a wife and mother. She was exceptionally bright in her own right, never one to boast but able to keep up with her husband and nudge her son towards harder sums and thicker books. It wasn't her fault the man who told her he loved her had used that love to control her, to make her feel weak and stupid.

Had she escaped that night, she would have done great things.

"I know," she said quietly, tears in her own eyes. "I figured I had a shot that night. He usually stays late at the bar and left the car at home, so I thought I had three hours. But I didn't know he had a meeting the next morning and drank a whole bottle of whiskey walking home instead. I miscalculated."

"It's my fault. You told me to pack but I couldn't find my stupid Captain America toy and…" he wiped his eyes angrily. "I held us up."

Rebecca reached across the table to wipe the trails of tears from his cheeks.

"You were a child," she said. "It can never be your fault. Hey," and she cradled his face in her hands. "It was never your fault."

"It wasn't yours either. None of it," he said defiantly.

She nodded. "Thank you."

The vision was starting to waver, like an old projection flickering as the film ran out. He clutched her hand desperately, wanting to tell her so much more, to tell her he hadn't wasted the gift she gave him that night. That he had excelled despite everything that happened. That he did everything to make her proud.

He felt her hand slowly fading, getting lighter in his hand as it faded away. He managed to tell her he loved her before he awoke back on the ship, his face wet with tears.

The next morning, much to everyone's confusion, Bruce marched straight up to Loki, grabbed him by the shoulder, and hugged him tightly.

#bruceweek #bruceweek2021 #tw: domestic abuse #tw: child abuse #skipped yesterday's prompt because i had nothing #anyway here's something terribly sad for y'all #bruce banner #rebecca banner

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