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pitch-pearl-void · 4 years ago

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The Consort’s Circlet

Danny set the heel of his palms beneath the circlet and pushed upward at the same time he lowered his head. He made a low hissing noise when, instead of sliding cleanly off his head, the circlet glowed, burned, and squeezed his head all the tighter. The jewel nestled in the center of his forehead burned hotter than it had previously, becoming less like a warmed washcloth and more like a sun heated rock. He gasped in pain.

Princess Dorethea grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away. "Stop this, my lord!"

"You stop it," Danny snapped back, tearing his wrists free. He backed away from the ghost until his back crashed against a wall. His hand went to his hip, reaching for a blaster that wasn't there. Instead his hand grasped uselessly at the rope they had tied around his waist to pull his new tunic against his sides. He gritted his teeth, feeling his face flush. "And give me back my clothes. Guys don't wear tights anymore, you can't just dress me up whatever way you please."

Dorathea sniffed and smoothed her hands down her dress. "I assure you, in this kingdom men do wear 'tights,' as you put it. Are they uncomfortable, my lord?"

Mulishly, Danny muttered, "No..."

"Then stop whining!"

Danny stuck his tongue out. Dorathea bristled, teeth bared, and Danny quickly dropped into a fighting stance he had practiced and used against ghosts for a little over two years, legs bent at the knee, feet flat on the floor, his arms raised in front of his chest. Annoyingly, the tights were as easy to move in as the jumpsuit his parents had made him. He almost welcomed the incoming fight, but unfortunately, Dorathea calmed herself, once more smoothing her hands down her dress.

"This is getting us nowhere," she said, her eyes closed. "You are to shortly become my brother's consort--"

"As if!" Danny shouted, not for the first time. "I'm not marrying a ghost, damn it! Just because you spooks have some sort of ghost hunter fetish--"

"You do not have a choice in the matter!" For a moment, it looked as if Dorathea's eyes were changing, but the moment passed as she once again began petting her dress. "My brother has chosen you as his consort. It is an honor and you should treat it as such." Danny snorted and she glared at him. "This...barbaric behavior is most unbecoming, my lord."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I don't know what you expected after kidnapping someone. Especially someone who fights ghosts every day. I'm not in the habit of rolling over."

Dorathea sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead, brushing against her own circlet. A smaller one, Danny noted, and one without a garish, creepy eye-like stone in the center. Danny moved cautiously away from her, toward a window in the stonework.

"I told him this was a bad idea," she moaned, sounding as though she was speaking more to herself, "I told him humans had moved beyond our rules and would not obey simply because he commanded it. I especially warned him about you and your kin. Foolish. Humans who can fight ghosts are the most dangerous of them all, but the moment my brother saw you defeat the warriors he had sent to distract your town's defender, he would not be swayed. I have lost count of the number of times he has demanded to watch the recording I took of you in battle."

Danny shuddered, his skin crawling. "I had help. It wasn't just me. Phantom was there too." He rubbed at the circlet, wincing as the stone burned. "We work together most of the time. Why isn't he here? Why me?"

Not that Danny wanted Phantom trapped in this predicament in his stead--

He hissed in pain and pushed at the circlet to no avail. "Phantom defeated the Ghost King almost single-handedly. He's powerful, brave, funny--" Tears sprang to his eyes as it felt like the stone was trying to burn its way to his brain. "--Damn it! Look, I just do what my parents taught me! If you ghosts are really infatuated with power over beauty, why is Prince Asshole trying to force this crap on me instead of marrying, like, Ember or something?"

"You have defeated Miss Ember in the past," Dorathea pointed out. "Numerous times."

"Yeah, with help! Phantom's!"

"Yes, and you regularly compete with Phantom in what you apparently regard as..." She raised an eyebrow. "Sparring?"

Danny felt his cheeks warming and hoped it was in response to the circlet's burning touch and not the fluttering sensation in his stomach. "It's practice," he muttered. "He's helping me get better."

"It is flirting, my lord," Dorathea corrected, "borderline foreplay. If strength is such a huge factor in how we ghosts find each other attractive, then what do you suppose it means when Phantom challenges you in mock battle so that you might test his strength while he witnesses yours?"

Danny's face was definitely flushing now. He spluttered and saw Dorathea's expression soften into something more girlish and, dare he think it, affectionate, before Danny had to slap his hands over his face in a weak attempt to hide. "Don't tell me that," he whined. "Oh my god, he's been flirting?"

"For some years it would seem," Dorathea agreed, amused. She sighed. "Not that it matters, now, of course. He waited too long, and now my brother has snatched you from beneath his nose."

Danny pushed his hands upward, tugged at the burning circlet once more before he moved his hands into his hair, pushing his bangs off his sweating forehead. It felt like his scalp was on fire. "Just because you guys caught me," he growled, irritated as pain traveled down his neck and along his spine, "doesn't mean you can keep me. Just wait. I'll get out of here yet."

Dorathea looked at him sadly. "I'm afraid it is not that simple. Your circlet...it is..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. More specifically, at his now visible forehead. "My lord, is your circlet burning?"

"Uh, yeah?" Danny taped a finger against the graceful, silver wires twining in a circle around his head, winced, and jerked his hand away. "It started a little while ago. I figured it was a 'ghost and human can't mix' thing."

Dorathea's eyes widened. "No," she said. "The circlet was made with a human in mind, it is perfectly safe, but it should not be activating. Not so soon."

"Oh wow." Danny braced his back against the wall again. He was almost to the window--Dorathea didn't seem concerned about that for whatever reason--but the fire was spreading from his spine to his limbs and the cool stones offered some small relief. "You guys are trying to kill me, aren't you?"

"Not kill," Dorathea huffed, sounding disgusted by the idea. "What use is claiming a human bride only to kill him? No, my lord, it is meant to bring you closer to my brother."

Danny squinted at her, suspicious. "Closer?"

"Emotionally. Like a true consort."

"That's never going to happen," Danny growled. Actually growled. He blinked and touched his throat where the rumbling noise was still coming from.

Danny's skin crawled with revulsion. He had met Aragon, briefly. When he had spoken to Danny it was as if he thought Danny was already his possession, a mute servant who would obey his command. He had sounded so smug. If Danny hadn't been so dazed and on the edge of unconsciousness from whatever warping portal they had used to transport him deep into the Ghost Zone, he would have decked the so-called prince just on principle.

Dorathea smiled sadly. "And yet it is working already if the circlet is activating."

Danny swore violently. He tried to push the circlet off again, but it was hot. He barely felt it on his forehead anymore, but it burned his hands. He hissed, frustrated, and the noise sounded as beastial as the growl.

"It is strange, though," Dorathea said thoughtfully.

"What is?" Danny spat, his voice like gravel.

"You only recently met my brother. In theory, the circlet should keep you bound to the castle until you learn to love him, at which point the circlet would activate and allow you to assume our second form yourself. It's responding far too soon."

Danny squinted an eye open to glare at her. "Your circlet thing must be broken then because the only thing I feel toward him is the desire to rip his damn throat out!" He shouted the last part, the words barely discernible over the growl shaking his chest.

A roar.

Dorathea's eyes widened, her eyebrows shooting up in alarm. Danny was pleased to finally see her take his anger seriously, even if he was losing his humanity to do it.

However, before he could feel too smug, Dora's lips curled into a smug smile of her own. "Would you now..." she whispered.

Alarm bells began clanging in the towers above them. Human and ghost rushed to the window, but Danny was closer and reached the sill before Dorathea. He searched the odd, cloud-filled skies for whatever had spooked the sentries until Dorathea slid beneath his arm and shoved her shoulder against his ribs, forcing him to retreat to the left side of the windowsill.

"Not very lady-like," he grunted.

She sniffed. "As if you have grounds to criticize me."

A black shape shot past their window, cutting their bickering short. It flew farther up and then away from their tower. Danny sucked in a breath. A dragon. A gigantic black dragon. It roared, spewing bright blue flames, and Danny mentally amended, A gigantic black ghost dragon that breathes fire.

It didn't bother flapping its wings but it soared upward all the same, flashing a purple belly and a spiked tail at those below. Was it attacking the kingdom? It was flying the wrong way if it was.

"What kind of kingdom keeps a dragon as a pet?" Danny asked, incredulous.

Dorathea choked beside him.

"You dare challenge ME?" Aragon's voice boomed from above them. From the dragon's throat, specifically.

"Oh..." Danny said weakly. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Aragon is the--He turns into a dragon?!"

"There is a reason he has ruled our realm for so long," Dorathea agreed sadly. "In this form, his second form, he is much too powerful for anyone to challenge. Even me." She touched her necklace. "Though I too have a dragon form..."

Danny eyed her warily. He inched closer to the wall, allowing Dorathea more space at the window. "Makes sense," he said archly. "You being a dragon..."

She favored him with a cool glance.

If she meant to reply--and Danny really hoped she did because he had a snarky quip lined up--the door to Danny's new room banged open. Two voices yelled out in sync, and Danny spun around, recognition already splitting his face into a grin. Sam and Tucker burst into the room. Sam, dressed as a knight, pointed her drawn sword at Dorathea while Tucker pulled back on a bow, an arrow primed and aimed at the princess as well.

"Unhand our friend, you fiend!" Sam ordered. "And stop looking so cute while you're at it!"

"Yeah!" Tucker chorused. Then, "Wait..."

"Sam! Tucker!" Danny took a step toward them, but Dorathea suddenly grabbed his wrist. It was the first time she had touched him, and he gawked at her a couple seconds before trying to yank his arm away. "What are you doing, let--ow, ow, ow! Gees!"

For such a dainty-looking girl, her grip was hard enough to bruise.

Or break, Danny thought, wincing one eye shut.

"Let him go!" Sam charged at them, sword raised.

Dorathea jerked on Danny's wrist, and he stumbled to the side, inbetween her and Sam. Dorathea's arm latched around his shoulders, pinning him to her chest. She raised a hand to his throat and five pinpricks dug into the skin around his windpipe. Danny swallowed. He couldn't see it, but he had a bad feeling Dorathea's hand had just grown some talons.

Sam lowered her sword and held up her free hand.

"Oh shit," Tucker said.

Beside Danny's ear, Dorathea leaned in to whisper, "If those two are here then who do you think my brother is chasing outside?"

A cold sense of dread pooled in Danny's stomach. "What are you--"

"Think, my lord. These two humans couldn't have arrived here, in the Ghost Zone, without assistance. Not when my brother posted sentries at the gate, not when our kingdom is so well hidden. So who did Aragon change into a dragon to chase into the skies?"

Danny's eyes widened. He barely managed to breathe, "Phantom..." before the circlet began sending fire down his spine again. He cried out and tried to reach for his head, but Dorathea's arm obstructed his own and the hand at his throat warned him against struggling.

"What are you doing to him?!" Tucker yelled.

Dorathea ignored him and brought her lips to the cartilage of Danny's ear. "Phantom has come to rescue you, my lord. He is using himself as bait while these two free you from the castle."

"No," Danny groaned, the word more a guttural growl than spoken.

"Yes. See for yourself."

Dorathea released Danny's neck and grabbed his chin instead, her claws digging into the sensitive skin of his face. She forced his head to turn toward the window, and Danny pried his eyes open despite the pain urging him to shut the world out. It was difficult to focus at first, but a bright green beam caught his eyes and stole every one of his thoughts. Small as Phantom was from this distance, his brilliant glow, the brightness of his white hair, stood out starkly against the angry gray-green clouds.

The sight of him made Danny's breath catch, his skin burn.

"My brother will destroy him," Dorathea continued, her tone cold, merciless. "He will burn his body to ash."

"No!"

"There is nothing you can do, locked in this tower." Dorathea taped a claw to his chin. "As so many before, your only duty now is to watch two men fight over you. Galling, isn't it? To feel so helpless while the one you love is slaughtered before your eyes."

"Sam!" Tucker cried. "His eyes--"

"I can see it, Tucker!" Sam snapped.

Danny struggled in Dorathea's iron grip, but as before her strength kept him from breaking free. "Let go of me!" he snarled. His gaze never left the two ghosts battling in the sky above. Phantom was quicker, more agile, but a lucky strike from Aragon knocked him to the ground, and Danny growled, teeth clenched.

"Phantom is no match for my brother," Dorathea continued. "He has defeated many enemies this way. Now that he has him on the ground, he will crush him, burn him. He will--"

Aragon pinned Phantom to the ground and reared back his head.

Phantom could feel his form condensing beneath Aragon's limb--never a good sign. Ghost bodies were incredibly adaptable, but Aragon had Phantom's core trapped beneath his oversized paw, and the bastard knew it. Phantom could see it in the way Aragon had pulled back his lips in a parody of a human smile.

"No!" Danny roared.

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

He means to kill me, Phantom thought somewhat frantically.

It was such an extreme reaction to a little bit of trespassing, especially from a ruler of a kingdom. Those sorts usually encouraged trespassing so they could steal the unwary into their realm and never let them leave. Even Phantom's attack--such as it was--should have been more of a nuisance than something Aragon took personally.

But Aragon was crushing Phantom beneath his foot. He was rearing back his head. Flames were gathering around his maw.

What had Phantom done?

Phantom was the one who should be angry enough to kill, not Aragon. Aragon had stolen his friend, dang it.

Phantom struggled uselessly beneath the dragon's paw. He couldn't even make a sarcastic comment with his chest crushed. He couldn't yell for help from Sam or Tucker either, of course, but priorities were priorities, and he wanted to go out having wounded Aragon's pride badly enough that the bastard would feel it for years.

At least Sam and Tucker made it into the castle...

Something crashed into Aragon. The prince, fully as big as Fenton Works, stumbled to the side, each step he took sending tremors through the ground, but none so much as the shake that shook the ground as a second set of clawed paws landed on either side of Phantom.

Phantom turned onto his side and curled inward, pulling his knees to his chest as ribs and organs reformed into the familiar shape Phantom had learned via the portal accident. It wasn't agony, he didn't register any pain, but it was...discomforting. As soon as his lungs finished reshaping, Phantom gasped in a breath, expanding his chest in a sudden burst. His lungs inflated and shoved the other still forming organs and bones to slot into their proper alignment.

He hated that feeling...

"What is the meaning of this?" Aragon shouted, outraged. "Why would you--"

The second dragon--Phantom was fairly sure it was a dragon--roared at Aragon, interrupting the prince in a rude manner Phantom would have highly approved of had he not screamed and clamped his hands over his suddenly ringing ears. He rolled onto his back and stared up--up--up--at the dragon above him.

Like Aragon, its scales were predominately black, but unlike the prince the underbelly was a bright blue, and the black-scaled arms on either side of Phantom shone an iridescent blue, highlighted by Phantom's glow. It had poised its front arms, its chest, directly over Phantom, making it nearly impossible for Aragon to reach Phantom without crossing those bared teeth first. Phantom assumed it simply a coincidence of the way the dragon had landed after shoving Aragon aside, but then he saw movement from the corner of his eye and turned his head. A tail, tipped with black hair--fur?--wavered up and down, ready to strike a blow on their left side if Aragon tried to strike from the flank.

Even that could have been a coincidence had Phantom not seen the tip of a wing, its underside colored a bright blue, dip down before rising again, proving that the dragon's wings were outstretched, mantled over them like a bird protecting its kill.

Phantom tilted his head further back, scraping the crown of his skull along the dirt until he could see the dragon's head on the end of a long, sinuous neck as it swayed left to right, fangs bared at Aragon.

The new dragon growled, and a voice Phantom never expected to come from the dragon's throat yelled, "I won't let you hurt him!"

Phantom's jaw dropped. "Danny?" he croaked. He rolled onto his stomach, wincing only slightly, and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. "Danny, you can't just turn into a dragon--it took me weeks just to get this form right! Do you realize how long it will take me to match a dragon?"

Humans were just so insistent on their shapes matching. Danny was never going to consider Phantom mate material if he couldn't become a dragon. Personally, Phantom didn't have a problem with it. If Danny wanted to be a dragon, so be it. Phantom would love him no matter what shape or size.

But would Danny accept Phantom? It was already hard enough convincing him to look past the ghost/human thing, how was Phantom going to convince a gorgeous, overly large and powerful dragon to give him a fair chance?

Maybe...if Phantom could get the shape right...it would take some time...and he couldn't attain the correct size immediately, but Phantom could replicate Danny's shape again--with his own coloring, of course--so that he became a dragon the size of a human. Then, if he could convince Danny to stay in the Ghost Zone, he could steadily grow until he matched Danny in size again. It would take a while...but if Danny wanted a dragon as a mate then, hell, Phantom would become a dragon.

... Oh.

Phantom floated onto his feet and glared at the prince who had stolen Danny from him. Aragon was already a dragon. He could be a humanoid ghost or a dragon at will, but there had to be a trick to it. After all, Danny had only become a dragon after being taken by Aragon. And now Aragon was a dragon, Danny was a dragon, and Phantom, who had spent two amazing years as Danny's friend with little hope of becoming more due to the whole "enemies" thing, was the one on the outside.

Phantom willed ecto-energy to his hands. "That is so not on." He floated up to Danny's draconic head and whispered, "You attack, I'll defend?" It was a strategy they had used before on difficult opponents, guarding one another's backs. Phantom was especially good at it.

Aragon hadn't taken Danny to spite Phantom or to convince Danny to become his knight. He had taken Danny in order to make Danny his, uncaring about Danny's feelings on the matter.

Danny growled.

"I hope that means you agree," Phantom said. "I'm not sure how much control a human has over a ghost form like this. Can you even understand me...?"

Danny's large head swung over to Phantom and nudged against him. At first Phantom squawked, swaying, but then he braced himself against Danny's pushing and realized Danny was rubbing his cheek against him. Nuzzling?

Phantom cancelled the ecto-energy in his hands and laid a hesitant palm against Danny's scaled hide. Even through the gloves of the jumpsuit Phantom had copied and inverted from Danny's hunter suit, he could feel the pebbled scales, the heat radiating from Danny, so much stronger and hotter than Danny's normal body heat. Phantom scratched his fingers over the scales and looked up at Danny's eye.

There was a faint white-blue glow that hadn't been there before, an oval pupil expanding into a more familiar circle as Danny stared back at him, but it looked like Danny's eye--felt like Danny's eye. The same dusty blue iris, the same responding burn in Phantom's chest whenever he met that gaze.

The eye half closed and Danny nudged Phantom a little harder. The growl softened into a soft rumble. Phantom grinned. He still wasn't sure if Danny understood him or not, but he seemed to recognize him at least.

"No," Aragon hissed. Phantom and Danny swung their attention back to their enemy. Danny's growl sharpened, matched by a responding growl in Aragon. The dragon prince roared, "I will not be bested by him."

Phantom willed energy into his hands again. "Gee, Danny, what did you do to him?"

Aragon's burning red eyes shifted to him, ferocity and hatred clear in that gaze.

"What did I do to him?" Phantom corrected, uncertain.

Instead of answering, Danny lunged at Aragon. It was a foolish, bullheaded, very Danny-like thing of him to do, charge in without a thought like that, but Phantom sighed and flew after him. Phantom would fight as he always had, at Danny's side, following his lead.

But hopefully this fight would end with Danny returning to his true human form. Dragon Danny was awe-inspiring to look at, but Phantom had gotten more than a little attached to the one that smiled...

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #pitch pearl #pitchpearl #Dragon Danny #Listen; there was a Need

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oh-theres-a-woman · 5 years ago

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Flowers in a Peaked Cap; Part One

A/N: Heres to attempt two at writing this author’s note… Let’s just say, I haven’t perfected the art of saving drafts. Note to self to actually find out how to make the draft before losing three solid paragraphs of rambling about the story… Sophie Points; Nil. Laptop/Internet Points; One. Welp, honestly internet and laptop have won a hell of a lot more than that. Just don’t remember how many times I’ve lost work because of not quite understanding how to post on here…. Safe to say I’m still a noob.

Any hoot! Enough rambling about that stuff.

After posting the first piece to this story; in the very very early hours of this morning. I couldn’t help but feel the massive urge to continue and work on the more of Tillie’s little adventure. It made me want to think about her as a person outside the relatives that we already know. What this girl’s goals are and ambitions. Unlike the rest of her family, I think she has a relatable amount of vulnerability and anxieties that are more from society’s working in the 1920s compared to her brothers; Arthur, Thomas and John that all suffer war-related mental illness and scars.

Actively she’s a romantic escapist that wants to make her brothers and aunt proud. Making a name for herself in the means of writing and exploring the tales that are brewed from the memories of old days.

In the progression of this story, I want to be able to explore the growth in Tillie as a young woman. The stepping out of her brothers’ shadows and coming into her own. Growing into a more confident young woman that could be from meeting new people like in this chapter and moving away from her fears.

I do see romance in this story, something like and full of all the trend first experience one faces at one stage or another. In terms of smut, I’d think it’s lighter and would be something that is worked towards. Tillie to me doesn’t seem rather lust-driven. So, it’ll happen if it does, and if not; its simply because Tillie Shelby isn’t interested in that sort of thing.

Important note; I’ll be working on organising the Taglist a little more throughout my next few posts. Please notify me if you’re interested in anything specifically and want tags there or if you mind just being on the general tag list and included in every story I post. Thank you!!!

Requested By; @csigeoblue

Parts; [ Prologue ]

Taglist; @zodiyack, @itsfrancisneptun, @amys-small-world, @fandom-fucking-shit, @hesagod-notyet, @hinagiku0, @dylanlover24, @amirahiddleston, @a-dorky-book-keeper, @theamuz, @csigeoblue, @smallheathgangsters, @beautycinders

Word Count; 1400

Watery Lane wasn’t the play that supported the wild fantasy’s of Tillie Shelby, but the little bookshop that was filled with many hopefuls or lads that were born a little more well off collectively grouped together. Reading the stories they wrote. This gathering was apparently one that caught the attention of the paper since the known publishers and well-off lads from another book club around England had found themselves doing a sort of travel for their source material.

Since the profile of this club of prolific writers had taken interest in the area of Small Heath and its inhabitants. Inviting upstart writers or aspiring tellers to come and meet them. So, onward the youngest Shelby strolled until she pulled open the door of the quaint little bookshop. The signal of her arrival was the sound of her kitten heels and the ringing of the bell on the door. Doe-like blue eyes that were like the crystal-clarity of the purest of water found themselves settling on a group of well-dressed gentlemen. Her eyes flicker between some faces she knew of Small Heath, most of them being the arseholes she went to school with and thought themselves privy to a better life.

It wasn’t that Tillie didn’t believe they weren’t welcome to it. Mostly, it was the way they treated people in order to get there the young woman didn’t quite agree with. She was rather foolish coming to her though since her brother’s had a very vision about how the Shelby family should be seen. Their measures to getting things done with it were also less than admirable. Perhaps, it was the fact that Billy Bronson, James Fitz and Joe Gilbert made hers and Finn’s school life a living hell one way or another. But, it also made it seem extremely unfair to talk to their older brothers about what happened. Since most knew better than to fuck with the kin of the Peaky Blinders.

Plooms of cigarette smoke clouded in the air, filling the bookstore with a spiced herbal infusion and rippled tailored sticks of tobacco. Moving her gaze from the lads she knew; to the new arrivals. The youngest of the Shelby mob offered a little smile. “Is there room for one more?” Tillie finally spoke up, pulling her book that contained the novel she had poured hours and hours over. Smiling hopefully. Arms hugging the expensive leather made book that her brothers banded together in the hopes for a lovely birthday present in the days before the war.

Hoping that she’d fill in with various things she enjoyed to draw, but instead, Tillie hadn’t touched it until she was old enough to respect things. Asking Aunt Pol to help her keep in a safe place until then. Scraps of paper were best for sketches in any case.

Eyes ever hopeful looked at the posher sort, some seemed wary until a certain collared lad smiled and offered a little nod then the place he’d been sitting. Away from the boys that seemed to make life a little more bothersome. “Thank you,” she whispered, settling down in the seat. Resting the book down on her lap before looking to the other lads who straightened their composure.

“We were all about to introduce ourselves since we’ve never travelled outside of London for such a meeting before. Yet, it seemed like a brilliant idea when bought up. Birmingham seemed like the best place, so raw and thrilling. Small Heath alone.” Spoke finally a lad in a handsome waist-coat, the colouring of coal, stiff collar and matching suit made her think of it being something her brother; Tom would wear. Only on the best occasions, or when he was dressing-to-impress. Unlike Thomas, this lad had handsome hazel eyes, the slightest tan to his skin like he enjoyed the frolicking on the beach. His name was Walter, but everyone called him, Walt.

“Even the presence of criminal activity and organisations like the Peaky Blinders, it does make the area a prize for writing. Wouldn’t you agree, lads,” spoke up for eccentric Norman, who took delight in the thing that only made Tillie smile in a measure of great awkwardness. The name seemed to follow her everywhere she went, and there was a measure of awkwardness for that. “Sorry, miss, I didn’t quite mean to be so rude, it’s just you don’t seem the sort to know much on that end, too kind and pretty, huh?” Norm covered himself for any form of rudeness that could have been interpreted.

Only causing a polite little lowering of her head, as her hands wrapped anxiously around her book’s spine. Before relaxing at the conversation drifting off elsewhere. Sobering to the notion that the following cough from Joe Gilbert had goosebumps appearing on her arms. Causing a vast amount of discomfort in the young woman. Tillie traded glances with the nicer of the Londoner’s; Robert. Whom quickly coughed to get things back on track.

“In any case, back to the introductions. We shouldn’t dwell too long on the story topics if we’ve lacked the proper course of introduction. Shall I start?” Robert spoke up, settled against set up for the purpose of meetings. “My name is Robert Augustine, myself and these other gentlemen,” he said, gesturing to the others in the group of London lads.

“Are from a collective of young men that wish to write and publish arts. Never before have we had a lady join us, but surely in this modern world we’d be able to welcome the bright minds of femininity amongst us. After all, lady authors are blooming into the publishing world more and more with each generation.” His words seemed to still the anxiousness within her soul at the agreement of his other companions. Looking forward to seeing a hand extended to her, Robert allowed her to stand. The mix of coarseness and softness met between the two palms meet.

Holding her book, Tillie looked down smiling a little at her feet. Hugging her book to her chest, like it was the most precious thing to her. That was… Because it truly was the thing that held so much value to her heart. Her right hand still gently in the hold of the Londoner, cheeks lightly warming. “I’m Tillie Shelby, and I like to write about my brothers, their stories before the war. When we were kids,” she lit up sweetly talking of her brothers. Her hand and Robert’s naturally finding it parting, before he settled in his spot by the desk. Arms folding at his chest with a little smile.

“Would you be willing to share any of those stories?” Robert asked in a light voice. Tillie could only think of one response.

“Would I ever,” she beamed with a presence that seemed to warm the room and the quiet little shop around them. Settling down into her seat once more, she didn’t think about when the others were introducing themselves. Instead, she found herself lost within stories. The more whimsical tales of lads that laughed and partied. Or the ones that filled with a warmth that made her think of the family that suppressed or lost who they were before the war. Among them, none had known those woes and horrors.

They’d seen things happen on the outside. Felt the absence of a brother, father, uncle or grandfather that either died or lost what kept to their memory that their younger-selves recalled. Tillie was young then. Merely a baby in some regard. But she couldn’t ever forget the days of laughter, wherein night terrors; her heroes would just come up and curl into the undersized cot she called a bed. Soothing their fingers along with the softness of infant or child hairs–that had yet to understand dryness or damage.

When business didn’t entirely rule the Shelby family but happened in the background. Those were her tales. The tales of rawness and loss from a different scene. Where her brothers; the men who took over the role of an absent father, became; fathers, uncles, older brothers and best friends. And… Pol became the only mother she ever knew and remembered. Her voice spoke of the volumes to family values and how terrible things broke people. Yet, she never uttered their names aloud.

Only recording them within her mind when she read the tales that meant something to one of her brothers. Art. Tom. John.

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k7l4d4 · 3 years ago

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 2 Part 2

Hello all, here’s another chapter of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!!

“So Luz, what kind of magic are you gonna use to help deliver these potions?” King, ‘innocently’ asked.

Luz snorted. “Hopefully none. As much as I would love to just bulldoze through everyone who ends up bugging me, causing trouble is just going to lead to trouble. Plus, that potion I took may have gotten me energized, but it’s a quick fix.” She glanced down at King. “It gets me up to a point where I can function normally, but if I exert myself, like using magic, I’ll end up burning through a lot more energy than I should. I really don’t want to end up captured by some creeps because I lost my temper and got too tired to defend myself.” She carefully made sure not to mention the unspoken “again” of that statement.

King huffed, but didn’t try to push it. “Fine. But just to let you know, while Eda’s probably right about people not caring too much about you being human, you should expect some of her stupider customers to try and cheat you.” As magnanimous of a King as he was, King was nothing if not blunt and to the point with his subjects; he wasn’t going to have his latest vassal humiliated by fools stupid enough to underestimate her.

Luz snorted. “Pfft. If these guys are dumb enough to short change me, than they’ll have to answer to Eda. And, to make sure she knows just how much to shake down punks like that for, I’m planning to write up a list of who pays me what amount, so Eda can see for herself.” Luz finished, a satisfied smirk playing across her face.

King giggled mischievously. “Oh, the looks on their faces when Eda comes calling is gonna be priceless!” As Luz herself cracked up at the thought, the two friends laughed all the way into town, the slight gloom that had been hanging around them since leaving the Owl House all but gone.

As they finally approached the town, the two had markedly different reactions. Luz gave a wry grin, a mix of apprehension and eagerness crossing her face. King, on the other hand, just gave a tired grunt at the sight before him; in the end, the town was no different than any other day.

King turned a side-long glance at Luz. “You sure this’ll go alright? I wasn’t kidding about people here being willing to take advantage of you.”

Luz just grinned back. “Eh, nothing I haven’t had to deal with before.” King wanted to ask, but was prevented by the pair of arms suddenly wrapped around his torso, lifting him off the ground.

“OH MY TITAN YOU ARE SO ADORABLE!!!!” The Witchling who was responsible for King’s predicament squealed. The echoing squeals revealed that the Witchling in question was just one of a group. The lead Witchling, a girl with a pink tone to her skin, purple-fuchsia hair, and a third eye, was currently cooing over King, who was vigorously struggling to escape.

“And enough of that.” Having realized what was happening, Luz easily yanked King from the girl’s grip, plopping him on the ground.

“Hey!” The girl shouted, her group pulling up behind her. “Who do you think you are?!?”

Luz cocked an eyebrow, completely unimpressed by the almost stereotypical display. “I think I’m late for my deliveries,” she gestured to King, “and he’s the one guiding me around. Later.” Her piece said, Luz turned on her heel, swiftly walking away from the annoyance.

Said annoyance rapidly grew red in the face at the blatant dismissal. She reached out for the human, expecting to stop her. “Do you have any clue who I am?” Just as her hand touched Luz’s arm, her wrist was caught, painfully twisted to the side, all while Luz’s eyes stayed fixed to the map King was holding up to her, effortlessly dragging the witch along.

Luz idly responded to the girl, clearly not paying attention. “I don’t know, and I don’t particularly care. I’ve got a lot more important things than dealing with a kid on an ego trip.” As the girl started struggling against her grip, Luz released her, sending her sprawling into the dirt.

“My name is Boscha, remember it!” The girl, Boscha apparently, shouted. “And I’m not going to take that kind of disrespect from a human of all things!” With her declaration made, Boscha quickly cast a fireball, holding it aloft for a second before chucking it.

“Light-Make: Shield.” Not even turning to the oncoming threat, and utterly heedless to the rapidly growing muttering of the bystanders, Luz effortlessly blocked the, by her standards, mediocre fire spell launched her way.

Finally bothering to turn to the Witch, Luz gave her an unimpressed stare. “Cute. Try that again, and I’ll send you to your parents in a full body cast.” Still holding the shield in place, Luz dismissed it, and headed on her way.

Boscha couldn’t breathe. What just happened, it should’ve been impossible. That was one of her best fireballs, and a human of all things blocked it with magic! Light magic, the most basic magic of all times! How was that even a thing!? Humans can’t use magic, everyone knew that, so how did a weakling human block her flames? She didn’t understand. As her mind started to spin, Boscha’s legs grew weak, buckling under her as she fell to her knees. What just happened, it couldn’t be.

Even as her followers (friends, her brain whispered), shook her shoulder, she wouldn’t respond. Eventually, Skara decided enough was enough, and hoisted the other Witch over her shoulders, visibly exerting over the strain of lifting Boscha’s more athletic body. Boscha didn’t respond. What just happened, she needed to understand.

Utterly indifferent to the stir she had created, Luz carried on her way, following King’s instructions to navigate to the letter. As they worked their way down the list, Luz couldn’t help but feel progressively more and more annoyed. Every time the customer opened the door, she either got screamed at, an attempt to eat her, or both. And to add injury to insult, over eighty percent of the customers had short-changed her!!! Needless to say, Luz was in a pretty bad mood after a few hours of dealing with that.

Luz groaned aloud, utterly exhausted from the ordeal. “Ugh, this is so annoying!! Everyone, absolutely EVERYONE, on the list acted like I was diseased or a wild animal!! I get it, humans aren’t normal here, but did they have to act like I was some half-trained pet!?” She growled.

King hummed, hiding his own frustration. Any insult to his court was an insult against him, so of course he wouldn’t stand for it. “As much as I hate to say it, that probably isn’t that far off. When me and Eda said that humans aren’t thought too highly of here, we meant it. They treated you like a pet because, to a lot of people, you might as well be one. Humans aren’t just seen as weak, they’re also seen as pretty dumb too. Sorry you had to find out like that, though.” And he meant it; Luz was one of the few people who consistently treated him with respect (so far at least), so seeing her disrespected was seriously frustrating.

Luz shot him a crooked grin. “Eh, it’s no big deal. I’ll just have to put more effort into changing their minds than I thought. That’s all.” She hummed to herself, idly tuning out the memories of the last time she had been treated as a “pet.”

King gave his best shot at a grin. He didn’t really get Luz all that much, but if she was gonna try, the least her King could do was offer his support of a worthy goal, and the respect of the masses is always a worthy goal. “Still, we got one last person to check off the list before we head home; some guy called Adegast.”

Luz groaned. “Ugh! If this turns out like all the rest, I swear I am going to burn his house to the ground. Seriously, if this had been one of my novels, we’d have already been recruited by some kind of quest granting Wizard and drafted into a mission against the forces of evil. If this guy doesn’t at least treat us with some basic decency, I am going to lose it.” Luz was seriously done. Today just seemed to keep getting worse, and she was almost at her wits end.

As they arrived at the destination, King and Luz both pulled up short. Standing before them was, to put it bluntly, a fantasy-style castle you’d see in a fairy tale. Luz sent a sideways glance at King. “I’m guessing castles in Bonesburough are new to you too?” She tried to play it off, but her battle instinct was itching.

King gave a wary nod. “Yeah, that’s definitely new.”

Before they could continue, however, the doors of the castle opened on their own, a mystical-looking fog spilling out. Striding forth was, by all accounts, a stereotypical wizard, beard, staff, robes and all. Luz was instantly suspicious. “Hello travelers! Are you the ones sent to deliver to me my potions order?” His voice was deep, one could even call it wise sounding, but to Luz and King, it just sounded like trouble. A familiar bitterness built up in Luz’s throat.

Shaking her head, Luz brushed off her personal feelings, putting on her most pleasant expression, no reason to needlessly antagonize a customer, after all. “Hello sir, we’ve got the potions you ordered right here!” She held up the sack of potions, now heavily depleted compared to how it started, and tried hard to hold in her dislike of the situation. Her suspicions increased when the “wizard” closed in.

“Nonsense! Please, come inside, come inside! You two must have worked yourselves to the bone handling such dreadful deliveries.” Before they could protest, he hurriedly ushered them inside, revealing an opulent interior. “Please, make yourselves at home, I insist!”

“As nice as this all seems,” Luz began, hesitantly rubbing her arm, “We really do have to get going soon.”

“Adegast’s” eyes widened in apparent distress. “But young lady, you’ve only just arrived! Please, you and your companion simply must join me for some tea!” He gestured to his table, tea and scones already set out and ready. The alarm bells were ringing even LOUDER in Luz’s already wary mind.

“Luz, let’s go, this guy’s seriously creepy!” King fervently whispered.

“Trust me, I know.” Luz murmured back. “But if we offend him, Eda might permanently lose a customer.” And like hell was Luz going to sabotage her Land-lady’s business just because one of her clients gave her the willies.

As the two reluctantly sat down, Luz did her best to keep a pleasant look on her face. King allowed his concerns to ease as he dug into the scones, focusing on them over the eeriness of the situation. “Adegast” leaned forward. “I dare say, I never thought I’d see a true human before mine eyes. Pray tell, how did thou find thyself upon our fair Isles?”

While Luz was sure this guy was hamming it up way too much, she felt caution was better than full-blown paranoia, and decided to answer. “To be honest, an animal stole my book, and I followed it to here.” Her eyes caught sight of something; a small cart loaded with potions. “Do you run a potions business yourself?” The sinking feeling was getting stronger.

“Adegast” nodded, a pleased gleam in his eyes. “Indeed, I run a small stand of procurements for those in need.” The admission did nothing for Luz’s nerves; if anything, the pit in her gut grew deeper. “But enough about me, what about you, dear one?” It took a lot for Luz not to snap at the overly-familiar title. “I see something special in you…”

Luz recoiled. “Me!? Special!? Oh no, nonononono, you’ve definitely got the wrong girl.” She wasn’t bluffing, as experience had amply taught Luz that, personality aside, she was utterly ordinary as a person in terms of abilities, nothing exceptional about her beyond her own determination and stubbornness.

“Adegast’s” eyes shone with sparkles; Luz found it creepy. “But you are!! I believe you to be the one to complete the great quest!”

Luz pulled up short at that. “A quest?”

“Indeed!” The self-seeming wizard stated. “You are the one who can retrieve the Celestial Staff, and vanquish the great evil plaguing these lands!! Look, I even have a map!” He revealed the map, and while it certainly looked old, all of Luz’s instincts were on edge. Still, she put on a cheerful face, hiding the bitterness building inside.

“I-I thank you for this quest, sir.” She stated as politely as she could. “As soon as I return to my master, I will inform her of this development.” With her piece said, she stood up, bowed, and dragged King out the door, “Adegast” waving them off behind her.

“Pfft. Chosen one. What a load, eh Luz?” King joked, clearly in disbelief of what the “wizard” was trying to pull. King froze at the look on Luz’s face; cold-blooded hate was etched across her face, almost stone-like in how still it was. “Luz?”

Luz’s face cleared, a look of tired despondency on her face. “Sorry King. I just… I just want to get home.” With that said, she and the demon made their way back to the Owl House, neither saying a world over what they had experienced.

As they crossed into the house, the two pulled up short. Before them, sprawled across the couch, utterly coated in trash and feathers, was a completely exhausted Eda, the snoring form of Hooty laid across her torso.

Luz’s face fell into a deadpan. “He got into the potion, didn’t he?”

Eda turned a weak glare her way. “No duh kid. This menace was ripping his way around the house for HOURS!!! I couldn’t even stop him, all I managed was to minimize and repair the damage, and wait for him to tire out. Say, why are you all looking so glum?”

King glanced at Luz, before speaking up. “One of the customers said she was some kind of chosen one, or something.”

Eda blinked, before cracking up in tired laughter. “A Chosen One!?!? Pleeeassseee don’t tell me you believe that kind of malarkey!?”

Her laughter stilled at the baleful glare Luz leveled at her. It cut deep, just how much pain was in it. Luz gave a grin, one filled with the kind of bitterness Eda usually only saw on herself after a run-in with Lily. “We’ve got a saying in the Human Realm: fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” With her piece said, Luz marched up the stairs, heedless of the concerned calls from behind her.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #eda clawthorne #luz noceda #king the owl house #boscha the owl house #skara the owl house #adegast #magic

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shreddedparchment · 6 years ago

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Man and Wife Pt.08

The Reconciliation

04/21/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 11,265

*Masterpost in Notes Warnings: lusty scenes, language, depression, fucking angst in boat loads

A/N: I am...emotionally exhausted. I’m also hungry. I got home from work, answered all the comments for chapter 7...and then started work on this one. I have only gone through to edit ONCE. So if you see something funny, please ignore it for me. I will come and edit again, probably tomorrow, but I didn’t want to keep you guys in suspense and I wanted to know what you all would think. I’m so excited to read your reactions to all of the different things we learn in this new chapter. I hope this pieces some of y’all’s hearts back together a bit. As always if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You wander the streets completely out of your mind. This night seems more silent than any night before it. The world has died because you’ve died. Inside, you’re broken, raw and cut, bleeding heart turning your limbs cold. Or is that the winter air?

You’re not sure what time it is but suddenly you’re not moving. You hear a mumble…a distant hum of sound and syllable. Warmth bleeds through your sweater, Bucky’s sweater. Why had you dressed yourself in his clothes out of all the damn clothes you had?

It feels like another life, this morning when you chose the light gray piece and pressed it to your face to inhale his heady scent. He hadn’t even worn it, but your apartment had been filled with the smell of him.

You look towards the warmth and see dark hands. They’re large and the veins on the back protrude as they hold you harder. Your body jerks back slightly and you look up towards the mumbling.

It’s not a face you want to see. You blink, trying to clear your vision of it, but it won’t go away.

You don’t want this face. You don’t want any face. You’ve never wanted to not exist. From the moment you were born, through the death of your parents, after your grandma died, and then after your grandpa left you last—even then, when you were alone with no kin to claim you, you hadn’t wanted to disappear and dissolve into nothing.

Tonight, you do. Tonight, is hell. It didn’t happen. It can’t have happened.

You turn to look back the way you probably came. You don’t remember walking this far. You don’t remember choosing to go this way. Maybe you should go back and check to see if you’re wrong?

“Y/N?!” A final firm shake, and you jerk your head back towards Henry’s bewildered face. “What the hell’s the matter with you? Answer me.”

You watch his mouth move and then look up into his dark eyes with your own blank expression.

“I’m cold.” You confess and realize you’d left your coat at home…no…not home. The apartment. Bucky’s apartment. How can that be your home when it’s been defiled and disrespected?

Henry sighs heavily and shrugs his long tan coat off then wraps it around your shoulders. He shuts the top button and then rubs your arms to warm you with friction.

“What are you doing out here this early?”

Early? You look towards the left and see that the sun is rising making the sky pale and winter gray. The cold seems to bite more fiercely, and you finally reach up to wrap your arms around yourself. You’re still a little numb. Angry.

You can feel unforgiving fire rush through your veins, charring your heart as you flash back to the image of a beautiful, perfect, Amazonian blonde laying in your bed, her bottom barely covered with your sheets. Bucky laid out beside her, staring up at the ceiling as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Is it? Had this already happened before? Has he done it often? Is that where he’s always been? Sleeping with other women? Had he just been that angry with you today that he’d brought her home? Is she his girlfriend? His mistress?

“Y/N?” Henry shakes you roughly, jerking your head back and forth sharply. “Damn it, say something or I’m going to take you to the hospital.”

“I can’t go home.” You sigh.

“Why?”

“Bucky he…can you take me to Casey’s?” You ask, unashamed of needing Henry right now. You might have walked to Casey’s eventually but it’s so cold out.

Henry leads you to his car, talking, asking you questions but you’ve drifted into thought again. You think about all those days that Bucky has been away from you and wonder how many more girls he has.

When the car stops, you look around and get out on your own to head towards the old redbrick townhome. All the lights are out but Case will get up for you, right? Even if you don’t have your husband…You stop at the base of the cement steps as the agony of what you walked into suddenly decides to catch up to you.

Slow footsteps walk up behind you, the scrape of sole on dirty cement. “Y/N?”

His voice is gentle, soft, and kind. Your eyes begin to water as you whimper, afraid to breathe, afraid to speak, afraid to blink because if you do, you’ll shatter and there will be nothing left but the dry flakes of your broken spirit.

You had tried so hard to make him happy. So hard…and he wasn’t happy.

Henry moves around you, staring at your face as your lip quivers. Your eyes continue to water but with your refusal to breathe, your face starts to show signs of your lack of oxygen.

You can see that Henry is at a loss for how to help you. He hurries up the steps and rings the bell. He rings it five times. Long presses to wake Casey up.

“What?” Casey's sleepy voice snaps, annoyance sharpening her voice.

“Casey, it’s Henry. Y/N is out here, I-I think something’s wrong.”

There’s silence and then the sound of the intercom buzzing off. Less than fifteen seconds later, the foyer light shines yellow and the heavy black door is pulled open. Casey’s holding her robe shut at her chest, her eyes flash to Henry and then search for you before she nearly jumps the stairs down to you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” She demands, her hands on your shoulders.

You look at her, searching for comfort in her green eyes and you finally breathe. A harsh gasp in and a long wracking sob out as you slowly sink to the ground. Casey goes with you, trying to hold you up but she can’t seem to do it.

Henry rushes down towards you and Casey, hovering beside the pair of you unsure of what to do.

He and Casey exchange a loaded look but then Henry’s helping you up. He lets you lean against his chest as he supports most of your weight as you continue to sob loudly, almost violently in the way your breathing stops and then starts again with pure pain.

His warmth moves with you until you feel yourself settling onto a bed. Your old bed. Where’s Lisa?

Your brain doesn’t seem to be working correctly. It’s like you come in and out. Like tuning a radio to a really shitty station.

You hear talking. Then darkness. You feel the bed. Then darkness. You feel the cold slip away. Then darkness. You see Casey kneel in front of you. Then darkness. You feel Casey sitting beside you. Then darkness. You see Henry disappear through the bedroom doorway. Then darkness. You hear a phone ring. Then darkness. “Are you fucking kidding me, Wilson? You just got back! You didn’t even give me any of that sweet sugar.” Then darkness. “Listen…I think something happened with Y/N and Bucky. She’s here but it’s like she’s gone catatonic. She was crying for a bit, bad crying. Like when her parents died. I’m scared, Sam. I’ve never seen her like this.” Then darkness. Casey is smiling. “I can’t wait for you to come back and keep that promise.” Then darkness. “Steve is going? Good. I hope it’s nothing too serious. I’m going to try and see if she’ll sleep.” Then darkness.

Casey then helps you lay down. She coaxes you down on your side, and you shove your hands between your knees. You stare at the wall until you’re once again swallowed by darkness only this time it stays.

Bucky stands in his kitchen archway, staring across at the picture—the selfie—that he took. Your hair is dusted with flour, so is his for that matter. There’s chocolate cake mix on your cheek puffed out as you laugh, your brilliant blinding smile making his chest burn with regret.

His own eyes are shining bright, faux surprise on his expression, mouth wide open, as your left hand—with one finger sticking out and covered in brown—holds his right cheek so that his left is pressed flush to your right, a large chunk of that same chocolate cake mix dabbed on the point of his nose.

Bucky cries. Soft slow tears that drag down his cheeks heavily as he stares at the shared bliss in the picture. He’s still not even completely sober. This pain will be worse when he is. How could he have let you leave? He should have held you. He should have clung.

He should not have slept with the stupid blonde!

What has he lost? What has he done?

How long he stands there, staring at that picture he doesn’t know. The alarm for his morning workout goes off in the bedroom. It’s suddenly cut off and Bucky realizes that his guest must finally be awake.

Bucky will never drink again for the rest of his God forsaken life. How could he have let this happen?

Warm hands wrap around his chest and he grabs them, squeezing too tight and jerks them away from his body.

Penny’s eyes are wide with surprise and her mouth open in a pained gasp. “Ow…”

“Get out.”

“What is your problem?!” She demands. “Oh…”

Bucky glances at her and sees her staring at the same picture.

“That’s right…you’re married.” She licks her lips then tries to reach out again. “It’s okay, baby, everyone slips up sometimes.”

As her skin touches his, Bucky recoils, glaring black and death. She retreats a step, blinking with fear at the look on his face.

“GET OUT!” Bucky screams, so loud the room shakes.

Penny jumps and she disappears down the hallway again. A moment later she emerges, dressed but barefoot, the long zipper up her back still undone. Bucky walks into the kitchen as she passes behind him and doesn’t stop until he’s resting his hands on the blue tiled counter. The front door opens and for the second time tonight, slams shut.

He looks up at your face, that beautiful face…every kiss, every touch, every caress he's given you has been tainted. The last time he saw you, the last time he told you he loved you, he’d been reckless and unsympathetic towards your civilian capabilities. You weren't a soldier. You weren’t an agent. You weren’t even a normal person with advanced athletic ability.

You were you, and he'd made you feel inadequate. How is that the last time he’d shown you any sort of affection? He should have been more careful. He should have show you he loved you every second of every day. Instead he watched as your heart tore in two. He ripped it out of your chest, laying naked beside that girl.

Bucky shakes his head, still staring at your laughing face, wishing he had the real thing before him so that he could beg and plead. Even at his worst moments, when Hydra’s darkness had edged close once more, Bucky had never wanted to end it all.

It had never even been a fragment of a thought. But with the prospect of facing a lifetime without you when you’ll never smile at him like that again…how does he fix this? He has to fix this.

“Bucky?”

He turns, finding Steve with his hands clenched at his sides, shoulders wide and heaving. As new tears trail down Bucky’s cheeks, he can already see the disapproval in Steve’s eyes. Steve knows. Probably passed the girl on her way out.

“What did you do?” Steve asks, disappointment and anger burning behind his sea blue eyes.

Bucky licks his lips, tastes the salt of his tears as he looks down at the floor then back up to his closest most trusted friend in the world.

“I lost her, Steve. I need to get her back.”

“Are you still drunk?” He asks, unforgiving and harsh in his voice.

Bucky licks his lips again then shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Then suit up. Elias resurfaced. We leave now.” Steve turns and leaves the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

The sounds of the office are deafening. You have such a headache. An unwelcome visitor that has more than out stayed its welcome.

Your eyes mist over as you massage your temples, wishing for relief. But you can’t take any pills. Not yet. Your hand flutters down to your stomach, pressing and rubbing at the area where your baby waits…not even a baby yet. Nothing more than a small bean, somehow still growing and flourishing in your wrecked body.

Your phone beeps again. Just a singular and short beep. You’d changed it from the old tone, too long and to jarring to keep when your mind is already splitting.

You look at the screen and your eyes water as you read the message preview.

The Perv: Y/N…please…? You don’t have to answer my calls but at least text me back. Please. I made a mista-

The screen dims out and you shut your eyes tight. The picture of you and Bucky at your wedding, still in its fancy silver frame shines like a beacon of failure on your desk. Lyla saunters up to you and eyes you warily. You’ve never been this reserved and unapproachable at work before. Of course Lyla is the only one willing to do so.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Would you please, fuck off?” You ask, ruder than you’ve ever been in your entire life. You have no time for Lyla and her passive aggressive teasing or her just plain aggressive insults.

“Jesus, what the hell crawled up your ass?”

“Oh my God, Lyla! Just leave me the fuck alone! Every day I come in here and have to deal with your petty ass bullshit. Henry doesn’t want to fuck you, alright? Get over it. Stop being so desperate and get a damn life!” You rise, grabbing your purse from underneath your desk, and push past her.

Lyla jumps as you brush past her, everyone else in the office stopping to turn and look at you as you stalk towards the elevator.

You hear Henry’s door open as the previously noisey office is plunged into stunned silence at your outburst. When you move into the elevator and slam your fist on the button, you turn to see Henry with his hands on his hips, staring at you as you disappear behind automatic doors.

Bucky sits relatively still, wearing dark pants, a black t-shirt, over which he’s thrown a dark gray blazer with a breast pocket on the left to level up the look. He’s wearing black Chucks, so the outfit is really just casual.

“Are we just going to sit here?” Says a warm, slow speaking voice. It’s almost monotone though the single tone it speaks in is friendly, easy, and coaxing. It comes out of a woman who looks to be in her late fifties, with dark brow hair a streak of gray down the top left that flows into her carefully piled high bun.

Bucky sits up straighter, holding his hands between his knees as he leans forward a little and twiddles his thumbs gently.

“No. No.” Bucky assures the woman.

“Okay. Tell me about yourself.”

Bucky sighs. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes and Sam referred me to your office.”

“Mm.” The lady says, nodding quickly twice. “And why are you here, James?”

“Bucky.” He corrects her, gently. His anger has long since left him.

The woman smiles. “Why are you here, Bucky?”

“I…had a wife.”

“Had? You’re not married anymore?”

“No, I am. I have a wife. I’m married.” He nods, adamant suddenly. You are still his wife…it doesn’t matter that he hasn’t seen you in a month. “She…she left me.”

“Why?”

“Because I…I slept with someone else.” He tightens his jaw, smooshing his lips into a quick thin line before relaxing his mouth again.

“Why did you sleep with someone else?”

“My wife, Y/N, she made me angry, but it wasn’t her fault.”

“Making you angry wasn’t her fault?” Bucky shakes his head. “Why?”

Bucky sighs heavily, inhaling through his nose then releasing with a slow stream of air through his mouth. He reaches down and scratches his ankle with his shining metal fingers. The doc doesn’t even look at them. She’s a real pro.

“I shut her out. I’d been snapping at her. Overreacting to things that shouldn’t make me angry.” He shakes his head, staring at the floor by the doc’s feet as if he’s arguing with himself in his head. “She wanted to be in my life but…I can’t let her be there all the time.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not safe and I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid I’ll hurt her. Worse than words. Worse than sleeping with someone else. Sometimes, I…I snap. I get violent. I don’t mean to and it’s been better since she’s been around, but it still happens from time to time.”

“Does she know why you keep her at a distance?”

Bucky nods, the weight in his chest increasing. “Yeah, she knows. But not because I chose to tell her. My friends told her best friend Casey and Casey told Y/N while I was on mission.”

“And how did she react? Did you two get to talk about it?”

Bucky scoffs. “No. We didn’t get to talk about it but that's also my fault. I picked a fight as soon as I got home and during the argument she alluded to me never telling her anything, but she didn’t come right out and say it.”

“How did that make you feel? Knowing that she knows even though you didn’t tell her yourself?”

“Like shit. It makes me feel like I’m a terrible husband. I should have told her.”

“And are you a terrible husband, Bucky?”

Bucky thinks for a moment then nods. “Yes. I pushed her away. I hurt her.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Because I’m a dick.”

“No, Bucky. Why have you been pushing her away?”

“Because I want her to be safe and I’m not safe. Not always.”

“So, you’ve been trying to protect Y/N?”

Bucky nods, thinking about the judgement he’s received from his friends, especially Steve. He’s so angry at Bucky for hurting you. For ruining this. But it goes further than that. Bucky saw it in all of their eyes at the gym while he’d been training you. All of them want to protect you.

“Yes. Even my friends are—they're really invested in her being safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“I don’t know? Me? I’m afraid to ask them.” Bucky admits, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Why?”

“What if they say yes? I’ve hurt them before.” His mind shifts to Tony.

The doc is silent for a long moment and Bucky shifts his gaze to the floor, picking at his cuticles with his metal thumb.

“Let’s go back to you keeping your real reasons for pushing Y/N away to yourself, Bucky. Why was it so important for you to hide the truth from her?”

“I-I didn’t want her to be scared of me.” Bucky admits, looking down at his fisted hands, gripping each other tight.

“Why would she be scared of you, Bucky?”

“Because I’m a monster. A murderer. She had a vague picture of what my life was before we got married but she didn’t know how many lives I took. She didn’t know what I was truly capable of. Now she does and I don’t deserve her.” He admits and he knows that it’s true. You’re good and sweet and pure and gentle and even in the heat of your anger literally moments after you’d found him in bed with another woman, you hadn’t been able to hit him. He’d been ready for it, recognizing the strength in you. The strength he’d fallen in love with at the water park when you’d slapped him for telling you breasts were awesome.

But the hit never landed. You had looked almost stunned at your own display of violence and whatever reaction he’d had to your raised hand; it had scared you.

The doc leans forward, pulling Bucky’s gaze back to her. “Does your wife love you, Bucky?”

“Right now?” Bucky asks, bitter and sarcastic as he thinks about the hundreds of missed calls. All those texts still unanswered. You’d completely cut him off. “I don’t know. She did. Before I did what I did. I’m sure she did.”

“Should she love you?”

Bucky shakes his head instantly. “No. She deserves better than me. She shouldn’t love me. I hope she doesn’t.”

Even as he says the words, he doesn’t mean them. He wants to mean them. He wants you to have a safe and fulfilling life with someone that can make you happy. But when he pictures you with someone else, Henry for example, rage fills his belly, stinging pain and hard jealousy shadows his mind and no, he can’t stand it if you don’t love him.

He needs you. More than ever, now that he knows what his life is like without you in it, he needs you.

“Don’t you think Y/N should be the one deciding that?”

Bucky meets the doc’s eyes and he knows she’s right. Regardless of what he wants, hopes, or needs, all that matters is what you want.

You’re cold. The table’s too cold. The synthetic plastic sticks to the skin of your arms so you lift them and place them on your stomach.

A loud sharp click echoes in the sterile room and you jump, startled by the rush of noise. Your hands flutter up to your chest, but you quickly compose yourself as a woman with kind brown eyes and dark wavy hair moves into the room.

“Mrs. Y/N Barnes?”

“Yes.” You smile nervously at the doctor, her pristine white coat giving you relief for some reason.

“Is this your first time with us?”

You nod and the doctor smiles. “I’m Doctor Carroll-”

“L-like Lewis Carroll?” You ask her stupidly, too nervous to stop your own mouth from moving.

She chuckles and nods as she takes her seat to your right on a black rolling stool. “That’s right. Just like the author. I’ll be your attending OB-GYN from now on so if you have any questions regarding your pregnancy, please feel free to call the office and I will call you back as soon as I am able. Okay?”

“Okay.” You reply timidly.

You hate to admit it but when you’d been with Bucky…you weren’t this shy. Being with him, knowing he’d chosen you, had filled you with some strange confidence. An audacity to put yourself forward and now…

“Can you lift your shirt, Y/N?”

“Of course!” You hurry to do as she asks and bundle the soft jersey fabric of the button up sweater at the crease beneath your breasts.

“When was your last period?” She asks curiously as she reaches over and adjusts the paper sheet that you’ve laid over your legs, your bare nakedness under it making your ears hot.

“Uh…about two and a half months ago? Maybe longer? I’m…I forgot to keep track.” You’d been so wrapped up in Bucky that you’d completely forgotten to mark your cycle days in your phone’s period app.

“Okay.” The doc says with a smile then scoots closer to the ultrasound machine. She removes a tube of what you know will be that weird jelly stuff you’ve seen in movies. You had never pictured yourself here, waiting for her to say- “It’ll be a smidge cold okay? Sorry.”

She’s really nice. You nod as the inner corners of your eyes prickle.

There’s a funny squelching noise as she applies the gel to the wand, but you don’t laugh, though maybe if things were different, you might have.

When the cold gel hits your lower belly, you gasp lightly but your eyes zoom towards the screen. The doc looks at the screen intensely, staring for a bit then reaching over to click a few keys on a small keyboard. The coloring on the screen changes and there’s more white than black, another few clicks, then more black.

“I-Is everything okay?” You look at her face, frantic with worry suddenly.

“Mmmm. I can’t seem to…find…”

Can’t find? Find what? Where’s your baby?!

The doc picks up the wand and sets it aside. “Give me one sec, I’ll be right back.”

She gets up and leaves as your mouth opens and closes as you try to call out to her, to ask her questions, because your mind is in a flurry. You can’t think suddenly. A panic rises in your chest making your heart ache in lamentation. Had the pregnancy test been wrong? Were you just having irregular periods now?

You scrunch up in the only form of crunch you will ever do voluntarily, as you watch the doc disappear through the door, she’d come in.

This can’t be happening. Yes, you are angry. Yes, things are shit. Yes, you aren’t sure what is going to happen between you and Bucky but…that’s your baby!

For two extremely long minutes, you wait. You stare at the ceiling, willing yourself not to cry because you don’t want to blubber in front of Dr. Carroll.

You jump again as the door clicks open, accompanied by a harsh, “Ugh!”

You jerk your head towards the door and watch as Dr. Carroll sits back down and unhooks the little wand again.

“I-Is everything okay?” You gasp and Dr. Carroll punches two buttons near the top of the keyboard then applies more gen and presses the wand gently back to your tummy.

Loud thrumming fills the room and your heart explodes with relief. Dr. Carroll turns a kind smile towards you.

“New machine. I’m so sorry, I’m still trying to figure out the exact way to get it to do what I want it to do. Our ultrasound tech is out on vacation.”

But you’re not hearing her. You don’t care what she has to say because you’re crying, staring at the screen at nothing apparently but it’s there, the heartbeat and until this moment you had no idea just how much you wanted this baby. You’d been excited to do this with Bucky and now you know that even without him, you will do this. You will raise this baby gladly.

“How about some pictures?” Dr. Carroll asks and you nod frantically.

“I-Is she-I mean, I don’t-” There’s no way to know if it’s a boy or a girl, crazy. “Where is it?”

Dr. Carroll smiles. “You’re only eight weeks so it’s just a tiny little blip but, right…there.” She points at a small smudge. You cry harder, shutting your eyes tight as you smile.

“Thank you.” You sigh and lean back to watch the screen a little longer.

“You’re very welcome.” Dr. Carroll says with a sympathetic smile. She looks slightly uncomfortable for a second, opening her mouth then shutting it before she finally decides how to word what you know she’s probably been dying to ask. “How many copies should I make?”

Do you want one for the dad? That’s what she’s asking. Where’s the daddy? That’s what she wants to know. Out of professionalism, she’s not asking you, but you see the question in her eyes.

You can’t keep this to yourself forever. “Two.”

Dr. Carroll presses a few more buttons and then a printer buzzes away in the corner. She gets up to retrieve the pictures and holds them out to you, the small smudge right at the center. Sadness begins to overwhelm you and your eyes mist over making the image blurry.

You’ll give it to him, right? You have to. Only question is, when?

Bucky opens the door to his apartment and moves inside, dragging his feet because he doesn’t want to be here.

Your blanket it still on the sofa, exactly where you’d left it on the right arm. You always got cold watching movies, so Bucky had bought you an ultra soft green throw. It smells like you and he’s afraid to touch it in case he somehow contaminates it with his own scent.

The kitchen sink is clean…he misses the dishes neatly piled at the center of the basin. You hated doing dishes. If you forgive him, he’ll do the dishes from now. Forever.

It’s depressingly empty inside. A small pile of your clothing is still sitting in the corner of the bedroom in the low pink chair he’d bought you to read manuscripts in while he slept. He liked you close. If you forgive him, he’ll never complain about the clothes being left out again. He just wants to watch you read until he falls asleep again, like he used to.

Bucky settles onto the end of the bed, new green sheets bought for the bed—those yellow ones, the ones you’d loved so much, he’d throw out. He begins pulling off his boots slowly listening as muted music shakes the ceiling.

Everyone is celebrating. The music dies and there’s rhythmic counting. There’s a shout of, “One!” followed by a louder shout of “Happy New Year!”

He tosses his boots at his dresser, they hit and fall with dull thuds on the carpet. His eyes find the picture of you and him, his metal arm around your shoulders as he holds you tight against his side while you rest your head in the crook of his collarbone. Your smile is sweet and real, and Bucky misses you so much he could die.

“Happy New Year, baby.”

You sit by your desk, sighing lightly as you reach for another cookie. You munch on it unenthusiastically.

Your office party has almost completely died down. Music is still wafting from the stereo but almost everyone is gone.

“Hey, you doing okay?”

You look up to find Henry, completely sober because unlike his employees, he’s not one to drink and get all silly. He’s wearing such a nice suit, all dark and sleek with a shiny silver vest underneath to celebrate the new year.

“Of course.” You nod, turning your eyes back on Lyla and her cohorts. They’re all drunk and acting stupid. “But you won’t be if she spots you. She’s drunk enough to do something bad enough that you’ll have to fire her.”

Henry smiles wide. “You’re probably right. I should go. I don’t want to tempt her. I’m glad you came, Y/N. Casey was right, you need to get out and get back into the world.”

You frown. You don’t want to talk about this again. You’ve been doing your best. This isn’t easy. Christmas had been so hard. It would have been your first Christmas with Bucky and you’d spent it with Jess and Jeff and their kids, then Casey and Sam when they’d torn themselves away from Tony’s lavish Christmas party.

Henry seems to sense your train of thought and he suddenly grows nervous. “Right, well, I’m going. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Happy new year, Henry.” You give him a smile but gasp as he suddenly leans down towards you. He presses a kiss to your cheek, letting it linger before he pulls back to stand up straight.

“Happy new year, Y/N.”

He walks away, leaving you to deal with the nervous flutters in your stomach and the painful ache in your chest. An ache that seems to have soldered itself into your very bones. Into your soul.

An hour later, you’re shutting off the lights, and pulling on your coat to go. You’d told Casey that you’d be home late. She and Sam had been invited to Tony’s New Year’s Eve party—so had you but they knew you wouldn’t go—so she knew that at least you weren’t alone which meant that she could have fun without you and not worry.

You fix the collar of your heavy red coat and lean in to shut off Henry’s office light when your eyes scan his desk and a bright blue binder catches your eye. “Shit.”

The manuscript! You rush to it and flip it open. He hadn’t approved the edits. The office is closed today, and it needs to be in the mail first thing Wednesday morning. Which means only one thing.

You knock on the door again, loudly, using the side of your fist to hopefully rouse Henry from his sleep.

His neighbor’s door suddenly opens and an angry looking man with dark curly hair and black bushy eyebrows glares at you.

“S-sorry.” You stammer, nervous when he steps out further, his eyes looking you over hungrily. You know that look, even if it is dulled with sleepiness.

You bang one more time, even harder, as your heart panics.

“Alright, alright!” Henry’s voice, easy but clearly drowsy comes through. The door opens and you squirm inside, pushing against him so that you can shut the door behind you.

You push yourself up onto your toes to look through the peephole and tremble as the fear passes.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Henry puts his arm around your waist and pulls you aside to look through the peephole himself.

“Nothing. I…your neighbor creeped me out.”

“Good. He’s an ex-con. Nice guy, usually, but I’d rather you not bump into him again. What’s going on? Why are you here?”

You sigh and hold out the manuscript, thick and heavy, and needing his approval. “You forgot it in your office. We can’t miss this deadline again. The author’s getting impatient.”

“Shit, I forgot. Thanks for bringing it over.” He takes it from you, and you realize as he holds it to his chest that his chest is bare. His beautiful dark skin on full display for you to gawk at if you wished to.

You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t nice. His body is hard as a rock, his muscles etched as if in stone, cut and clean. His Apollo belt barely hidden by dark, low slung sleep pants. The atmosphere shifts quickly first curiosity rages within you and then pain. So much pain. Your heart squeezes hard as you shut your eyes and try not to picture Bucky.

His body laid beside that stupid blonde, perfect and sculpt, even more than Henry’s. The world sways beneath your feet and you teeter backwards towards the wall.

“Y/N, you alright?” Henry’s right hand finds the back of your left shoulder and he helps hold you steady.

Instead however, you go tumbling towards him. You fall against his chest and he wraps his arm around you.

“Jesus…” Henry says in slight shock, but he holds you against him just the same as you lean, not because you want to but because if you try to stand you will fall.

You know the dizziness might just be because you’ve been running around all day and you haven’t had a real chance to catch your breath. But the fire in your chest, burning, charring, and blackening your heart is what steals your breath.

It makes your eyes sting and before you can stop them, tears are springing forward.

It’s New Year’s another important first that you don’t get to share with Bucky. You’re so angry at him. You’re so furious and yet you miss him and wish things were different. You miss feeling safe. You miss belonging to him and the way he belonged to you.

You want to feel needed and wanted and desired again. Was it you? Did he go to her because you weren’t enough?

“Y/N…” Henry whispers, and you look up at him. His dark eyes are intense pools of black, searching your eyes for a rebuke to his arm around you but even if you wanted to pull away, you still can’t. Your world is still spinning.

“I wish I knew how to fix it.” You sob. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Then don’t fix it.” He brings his other hand up, dropping the manuscript to the side so that it falls to the floor and pages fall free of the flimsy metal binding, and caresses the sides of your face. “I can make you so happy, Y/N. Let me make you happy.”

You’re sobbing when he leans down and tentatively kisses you. His lips are soft. So damn soft and it feels so good to be caressed and cared for again that you give into it and kiss him back. The kiss gets deeper as Henry licks your lips and your mouth opens to welcome him in. The burn in our chest still hurts but it also flutters and sparks.

It feels good to be kissed. But not as good as it had felt with Bucky.

You pull back and whimper, the pain cutting and deep. You don’t want to think about Bucky. It hurts.

Henry unbuttons your coat and slips his hand back along your sweater, wraps it around your waist, and pulls you up to lean against his chest. His lips dive back towards yours and he kisses you a little harder, commanding and demanding reciprocation.

Your sob splits your mouth and Henry delves into the depths of you, tasting you, reminding you that you can still feel other things besides betrayal and hurt.

He holds you tighter, dipping his hips and you feel the unmistakable rock of his cock. You gasp against his lips and your sob turns into a moan.

The sound ignites him, and he walks you back until you’re pressed against the wall.

Bucky disappears completely from your mind as Henry’s hands find the skin of your back, your coat is discarded, and when you’re both naked he takes you into his bedroom and falls with you into the bed to make sure you understand just how well he can take care of you.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re not numb. You can feel every sting of confusion, every bite of regret, every hint of agony that Bucky’s indiscretion has left with you. You can see a life beyond Bucky, beyond your marriage to him. You can see how you might move on and how you might create a new life away from what he did to you.

As Henry’s arms wind their way around your waist, you realize that this isn’t what you want. You catch his wrist and pull it up, away from your body as you sit up. The silk sheets of his bed fall away, baring you for him once more.

“What is it?” He asks, curious but otherwise unaware that anything might be wrong.

You blink, fighting the renewal of the need to cry. All you seem to be doing lately is crying.

“I’m married.” You remind him.

The atmosphere shifts and you can feel the spark of passion ice out. The nerves radiating off of Henry as he scoots closer, reaching for your exposed hip. You grab his wrist again and stop his hand from touching you.

“But I thought-?” He begins, hopeful.

“This was a mistake.” You whisper, hating to hurt him but hurting so much too.

“Are you seriously going to stay with that guy? After what he did to you?” Henry demands, getting a little agitated.

“I don’t know.”

“Then why-?”

“Because I’m married, Henry.” Doesn’t he see that you’re just as bad as Bucky now? You needed to feel wanted, you’d been coming to Henry so much when Bucky wasn’t paying attention to you, for comfort and company when you should have been telling Bucky that he was making you feel excluded.

“Married?!” Henry asks, indignant, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He grabs your left hand and holds it out for you to see. “Like this?”

You know what he’s pointing out and you yank your hand out of his grip where there still rests no ring.

“I don’t need a ring to remind me that I’m married.” You argue and for a moment you wonder if Bucky had had a ring if he wouldn’t have cheated. It’s stupid to think that a ring might have prevented what happened but you’re grasping at straws here.

“He ignored you, Y/N. He clearly wasn’t ready to be your husband.”

“And I wasn’t ready to be his wife.” You point out. “Don’t pretend to know what we went through, what our marriage is—was. You weren’t there.”

You get up and gather up your clothes, pulling them back on as quickly as you can.

“Y/N…please don’t do this. Let me show you what it’s really like when someone loves you. I’ll marry you myself.”

You don’t look at him as you pick up your coat.

“Goodbye, Henry. I’m sorry.” You hate yourself for giving in. You’d fought it for so long. You’d pushed Henry away for so long but in the end, you hadn’t been able to fight four years of history. What you know now though, is that you don’t love Henry and you never did.”

When you reach the spot where you’d given in to your physical needs, you quickly begin to gather up the spilled manuscript. When it’s piled neatly, you move to the large desk in Henry’s living room and place it neatly at the center. You grab the title page and flip it around to its blank side then quickly scribble with a red pen from Henry’s desk,

I quit. -Y/N

Winter is at its end, the wind chilly but with the sun on one’s skin, it feels pleasant and refreshing. Many people seem to think this because they’re all out wearing shorts and thank tops, t-shirts and dresses, enjoying the large park and the small buds of the coming spring, blooming in the carefully fenced off shrubs by the concrete path.

New leaves are growing, small and fragile but green and soon they’ll turn the park jade again.

Beside him, Sam is walking, at ease as he looks down at his phone. His fingers fly across the keyboard. Bucky seems almost as eager as Sam does in his steps, moving with a wide stride towards the center of the park.

A snack stand comes into view, wooden, made to look like a small log cabin. In it a man is selling lemonade and pretzels. In the small queue, Bucky spots their target; a blonde with short blonde hair, freshly cut and styled in large curls.

“Case!” Sam calls out, shoving his phone into his pocket and lifting his hand up into the air so that Casey won’t miss him, completely ignoring the fact that she couldn’t even if she wanted to with the large super soldier walking beside him.

At first, when she hears his voice, Casey smiles. She beams, excited and happy to see Sam. Then her eyes drift to his right and she spots Bucky. Her eyes blaze and she stomps out of line. Sam hurries forward and catches her in a hug—no…wait, he’s holding her back.

Bucky stops. She’d already known he was coming but he should have expected this reaction anyway. Bucky’s eyes aren’t watching Casey anymore though, he’s scanning the crowd, steel blue eyes hungry for sight of you.

He hasn’t seen you in three months. Three months!

No other time in his life has Bucky felt so empty, not even when he’d literally been emptied of everything that made him who he is.

“You have a lot of nerve!” Casey growls, Sam sighs but holds her around her waist. “She’s not here, dumbass.”

Bucky’s eyes fly to Casey and her blazing red face and toxic green eyes spew hate at him, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is that you aren’t here.

“What?” It’s the reason he came. He was here for you! He knew that he might not be able to talk to you. He’d known that he shouldn’t.

“Why the fuck did you even ask her to marry you if you were going to dive into some other chick’s snatch at the first sign of marital problems?! Asshole.” She makes another jump and swipe at Bucky, but Sam wraps his arms around her more securely, closer, distracting her for a moment as she looks up at him.

Bucky’s shame is endless. He swallows hard because she’s right and he’s suddenly even more desperate to see you than he was before.

Sam is whispering to Casey, calming her down somehow.

“Is she really not here?” Bucky’s voice is so heartbroken that when Casey looks back to him, Sam barely looking over his own shoulder at Bucky, he can see a softness in her green eyes. She feels bad. Maybe for the situation? Or you? Or both of you and him? She’s not only angry at Bucky, that much is clear.

There must have been a lot of Sam pleading Bucky’s case to her over the past three months and Bucky suddenly feels a swell of appreciation for his friend.

Casey sighs heavily, reaching down to intertwine her fingers with Sam’s. He squeezes hers, reassuring her.

“I-I won’t talk to her, Case.” Bucky pleads. “I just want to see her. Please?”

Bucky can hear his own desperation and he doesn’t care. He needs you. Even if all he can do is watch from afar.

There’s a guilty shift to Casey’s eyes and Bucky’s not sure what to make of it but then it doesn’t matter because she lets Sam pull her closer, hugging her tight, and rests her head on his chest. “She’s around the corner, sitting on a bench. She knew you’d be here. She didn’t want to see you!” Casey raises her voice to call out after Bucky because he’s already pushing through the line and around the snack cabin towards the path where it curves to the left and right.

Which corner? To the let or the right? He’s almost tripping over his feet as he searches for you. He chooses the left path and he doesn’t even turn completely when he spots you about halfway down the walk, sitting on a bench, hunched forward as you reach down to scratch your shins.

You’ve got your navy dress hiked up to your knees, it’s long, floor-length but you’re wearing brown sandals.

You’re perfect, your hair loose and flowing, the look on your face neutral—much better than the way he’d seen it last. He half hides behind the corner he’d almost turned down to stare at you more, greedily eating up your form with his eyes. His chest is burning with satisfaction for only a second before it’s full of yearning.

You’re so close. Finally seeing you has only strengthened his need to have you, to keep you, to hold you. But he can’t. You don’t want to see him. You need your space and he gets that. You still haven’t even responded to any of his calls or texts which he still sends you tons of. He only calls once a day. Just before bed. To wish you good night. But you never answer.

Bucky could stand here all day, staring at you, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, but he can’t. If you see him, you might turn and run, and he doesn’t want you to feel like you need to flee. He should be the one running. He was the one in the wrong.

He begins to edge back towards Sam and Casey, moving in inches because he can’t bear to tear his eyes off you. Then you stand and his heart leaps into his throat because what if you turn and see him?

But then you straighten out and the dress falls to your feet. It evens out, and for a moment Bucky forgets how to breathe.

There is no way that he’s seeing things because even though the dress’s skirt is loose, the waistline just below your breasts is tight and it he can see the top bunched up section of the skirt stretch outwards.

He stops trying to hide and steps back around the corner, standing tall and straight in his white t-shirt and jeans. His black leather jacket left unzipped. His eyes, stare with his jaw slack from shock, as he stares at your clearly pregnant belly.

It’s not big…not yet. Just extended enough that he can tell.

Then you sigh and your shoulders sag, but your hands move down to that belly and rub affectionately as you turn towards him, confirming that yes, you are indeed pregnant.

The shock on your face as you spot him, your eyes wide, your mouth falling open is barely noticed as Bucky begins to move towards you, his arms hanging limply at his sides. You are frozen it seems because you don’t dare budge. Your hands are still curved around the tiny swell of your tummy and Bucky can’t find the words as he reaches you because he can still only stare at it.

He knew he wanted you back. He knew that he couldn’t do anything about it because it’s not what you needed. After seeing that belly, he knows that he must stop at nothing to win you back.

“How?” He finally sputters. He sees you gasp at his question, agony rips through your eyes. “When?”

He’s needs to know, he has so many questions. So many hopes. The guilt in your face is understandable. You hadn’t told him. Of course, you’d feel like you did something wrong, but nothing matters. Nothing else other than that you’re clearly several months pregnant. How many months? Do you know the sex? Have you heard the heartbeat? Shit, did you go alone to the doctor? No. He should have been there.

He looks back up at your face and finally, you speak. “I slept with Henry.”

This must be what it feels like to die. This sensation of endless falling in suffocating darkness. And then the pain as you finally hit the ground. Brittle bones breaking and your insides splayed out in vivid reds and pinks, your guts torn asunder. If he hadn’t already felt like he’d lost you for good, he might feel worse…and then his eye drift down to that belly.

Is that not his baby?! Horror fills him up, gnawing at the small hope he’d found in seeing you pregnant.

“Is…is it-?” He can’t ask. He doesn’t want to know. What if it isn’t his? What if you’re with Henry now? Are you going to ask him for a divorce?

“I’m four and a half months.” You tell him and Bucky feels like he can breathe again. He breathes in deeply through his nose as he pinches his mouth shut, fighting the grief that threatens to break him. For one horrible minute he thought that baby wasn’t his and it was everything that all of his worst nightmares are made of.

He brings his hands to his hips, turning away from you a little as he struggles to compose himself. He whimpers a little, so quiet that no one but you, standing so close, can hear. His eyes are bloodshot as he fights the urge to sob. When he turns back towards you, he can see your own beautiful face contorted with sadness. Your lips pulls down deep at the corners as your eyes water.

“I was going to tell you but…but then…I need to go.” You suddenly say and turn to leave the park, but Bucky can’t let you go. He can’t. That’s his baby! You’re his wife! His everything. He has to make you see.

“No, wait. Please…” You stop and turn to look at him, his heart ripped in two as he watches your lip quiver. The last image he had of you was of the pure rage when you’d caught him in bed with another woman, this broken beauty, made pitiful with a quivering lip is not what he wants to see. And he did this to you. He broke you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, please…please don’t go. Come home.” He begs.

You look away from him as your tears begin to fall, down at the ground, you don’t hide your face from him.

“I can’t.” You sob. “Let go.”

“Y/N…baby, please?” His own voice breaks but you pull out of his grip and when you dash away, he doesn’t follow.

“Y/N, is this really a good idea?” Casey asks as the two of you move into the now fully restored elevator of your old apartment. Your home. Can you even come back to it now? Bucky begged you to come back but was that because of your baby? Or because he still loves you?

Even after you’d told him that you’d slept with Henry, he’d only cared about the baby.

“You said they’re out on mission, right? That Elias guy is in the states now?” You ask, your eyes glued on the doors before you while you lazily rub your stomach. A habit you’ve formed from worrying so much about how you were supposed to tell Bucky. Now that he knows, the movement is simply to comfort you.

“Yes.” Casey nearly growls. She doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t like drama, especially when she thinks she might just stab Bucky through the eye if he makes you cry again. You’d been inconsolable two days ago. “They took off for Nevada this morning.”

“And Sam said they wouldn’t be back today, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I just need to grab a few things, Case. Then I won’t have to worry about coming back here and I won’t need to see him again.” Seeing Bucky is dangerous. You’d nearly caved at the park. Hearing his voice, seeing his face, the tears that he’d cried…You wanted him. You still want him. It’s not fair.

It’s not right.

You’re still angry. You can’t trust him. But you love him, and you want him. Why can’t you stop wanting him? He’d hurt you so much.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Casey asks, eyeing you suspiciously. “Moving out?”

“Yes.” You lie.

You press your thumb to the small panel and are stupidly relieved when the door clicks, and you can pull it open. Why you’d half expected Bucky to have removed you from the system, you don’t know. Surely, he’d put hers in so she could come and go as she please…but then, why did he ask you to come home?

Thankfully the apartment is empty. You don’t give yourself time to look at the pictures of you and Bucky hanging on the walls or sitting on tables and shelves. You breeze through, hurrying to get a bag packed with your things so that you can get out of here. Even if you’ve been assured that Bucky won’t be here, you’re terrified to see him, here of all places.

You just might stay if he asks you to.

It takes you twenty minutes to track down all the items you wanted and quickly zip up the brown leather bag and throw it onto your shoulder. It’s heavy. You groan as you lift it and struggle to hold it there on your shoulder as you move back out of the hallway and into the living room.

Casey stands staring towards the front door and you follow her gaze. Your eyes land on him just as the door snaps closed.

No.

You see his blue eyes flash with questions, curiosity, agony, wonder, agony, hope, agony, and then he finally settles on desperation.

You look at Casey and she looks at you, her eyes a screaming question of What do we do?

You look down at the floor and grunt lightly as you re-hoist the bag on your shoulders.

“We’re leaving.” You assure Bucky, avoiding his gaze but before you can even take a step, he’s there in front of you, his hands on your arms.

“No! No, please don’t go.”

Casey moves towards the door, slowly, trying to be unnoticed.

“Bucky-” You begin.

“I-I’ve been going to therapy, Y/N. I have so much to apologize for. So much to make up to you. Not just what I did that night but everything that came before. I pushed you away, I can see that now. I wanted to protect you from the person I was, the person I can never stop being. I’m broken, Y/N. So much more than you know. I should have told you everything from the beginning, but I didn’t want you to be afraid of me. I didn’t want you to hate me.”

As if you could ever hate him. You want to! But as he reaches up, placing his hands on the sides of your face with his fingers eagerly, in desperate need like an addict finally getting his hands on his vice, stroking your cheeks and your hair and whatever other part of your face he can touch, you know that you don’t hate him.

He hurt you and you’re angry at him. But you can never hate him.

“It was stupid and selfish of me to keep that part of myself from you. Please forgive me. Not only for that but for everything that followed. If you’d known that the reason I was getting upset was because of my struggle with…with the memories and the flashbacks then maybe we could have found a way to work through it together? I failed us by shutting you out. I didn’t trust your strength and you lost it because I didn’t let you use it. I’m so sorry…please…And I know I wasn’t the greatest husband. I left you alone too much. Saying that I wasn’t used to having someone depend on me and want me around is a cheap cop-out…I was thoughtless, Y/N. I didn’t think about your needs. I only thought about mine. I will never, never do that to you again. You are my life, I love you. If you come home, you’ll have to chase me out the door with Barnes before I leave you again.”

You might have laughed if things weren’t so strained between the two of you. Barnes, his favorite handgun, is still stored at Casey’s. You’d stopped carrying it with you everywhere because it hurt too much to know that a piece of Bucky was always with you…the baby doesn’t count; the baby is part you.

“Bucky…” You sigh, crying again because how could you not cry when he so fearlessly bares himself to you. “Henry…”

Bucky’s hands freeze, his breath hitches as he struggles to find his voice again. His slides his hands down along your neck and it feels so good you think you might pass out.

“A-are you two t-together?” He wonders, struggling to keep his voice even.

“No.” You sigh. Should you have lied? “It happened once, on New Year’s. But I slept with him Bucky, and you hurt me. Do you have any idea what it felt like to see you laying there next to that woman, whatever her name is?”

“Pe-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” You gasp, almost shouting at him because the last thing you need is a name to put to the body.

“Sorry…” He whispers, or maybe he just doesn’t have enough air to speak louder?

“I-Is she the only one?” You force the question out because this is what’s tormented you since the night you left him. How many more athletic blondes are there? “Or have you been with more-?”

“NO!” Bucky’s adamant denial startles you and you jump. He adjusts his tone, quieter but just as assertive as you look up into his frantic blue eyes. “No, Y/N. It was just the one time. I was drunk out of my mind because I thought you’d left me, and I was so…nothing I say can ever make right what I did. Even if I was drunk, I should have known better.”

Yes, he should have. So, should you.

“I don’t know what to do with this, Bucky. I don’t know how to not be angry at you. Every time I picture that night, I wanna throw up. I want to punch something and yell and I’m so mad at you. How could you do that to me? To us?”

Bucky groans, leaning forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder.

He smells so good this close, like home.

“I-I don’t know if I can trust you. We had a fight. A big fight. And you slept with someone else. How do I know that you won’t do it again? If we were to get back together-”

His head shoots up at these words, hope flowing from them.

“We will fight again, Bucky. How do I know that you won’t go looking for another woman with a better body than mine again?”

The jealousy is stupid but it’s also there, etched into your bones because of how perfect that woman had been. It’s like he looked for just the right person, the one that would check all of your insecurity boxes, and then he fucked her in your bed.

“I won’t, kitten, I promise.”

“Stop making me promises you can’t keep.”

“I can keep it!” He insists. “Let me prove it to you. Come home. Please, please come home.”

That pet name. Why had he used it? He’d been doing better without using it. Now you were so very aware of just how much you wanted to stay. How much you were already leaning towards yes.

It scares you and you panic.

“I…I can’t do this, Bucky.” You say suddenly then move to go around him, avoiding looking at his eyes because you know what you’ll see there, and you won’t be able to resist it.

It’s almost like he knows what you’re thinking because he suddenly drops to his knees right in front of you.

It startles you because yes, you love Bucky. Yes, you believe him when he tells you that he loves you.

Before all this shit happened, the two of you had been trying to make this marriage work but for him to get down on his knees? He didn’t even do that when he proposed. It makes him look small and desperate and as you find his eyes, you realize you’ve brought him to this point.

The two of you have brought each other to these exact points, one scared to stay. One desperate to keep.

This constant misery that the two of you have been in, this torment is your fault as much as his. It would have been easier to leave him if you’d lied to him about the baby being his. Now that he has you back home, he’s almost wild in his need to keep you here.

“No! No. Please, please, Y/N. Please don’t say that.” He begs, pulling you close with strong arms that you know you can’t pull out of.

He leans slightly to his right to bury his face into the side of your slightly extended tummy. Your baby, probably reeling from the cacophony of emotions racing through you, kicks. It’s so faint but you feel it. You know Bucky can’t have felt it. Your little one isn’t strong enough yet.

With that kick comes the realization that this is bigger than your wounded pride. This is your family. However, broken it might be at the moment, this man clinging to you, and the life growing within you is all you have.

This had been your dream. A loving husband. A beautiful baby. More than one beautiful baby hopefully. You’ve been alone all your life. Casey the only exception. Her and her family had accepted you so openly but as much as you love her and them, they aren’t yours. Not like this.

Your eyes water and you sigh with shallow breath, struggling to breathe.

“Please don’t leave me. I kn-know that I haven’t been the best husband or even an adequate husband. I know that I ignored you and I didn’t mean to do it, really, I didn’t. I just didn’t know how to…I’ve been so used to it being me. I know that’s not an excuse. I asked you to marry. I moved us in here. I didn’t call you when I should have. I left you alone every morning. None of this is your fault so please, please…” He pulls back to look up at you, his eyes pouring and red. “Please don’t give up on me. You are my life’s only gift. Please don’t take it away from me.”

He hides his face in the side of your belly again, clinging to you and the future growing inside of you.

You cry with him. For several minutes, the two of you just cry. Your arms hang at your sides as Bucky’s are wrapped tightly around your waist and bottom.

“No.” You finally say, your voice cracking and morose.

Bucky jerks his head back to look up at you with his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide and searching but already full of defeat.

“No, Bucky. You didn’t do this alone. I told you, I slept with Henry.”

“Don’t-” Bucky grits his teeth and looks at your belly. He reaches up and places his hands on the sides, probably reliving the moment that he thought the baby might not be his. “-don’t say his name.”

Finally, a real reaction to your own mistake. Something believable.

You can’t blame him for not wanting to hear Henry’s name. You stopped Bucky before he could tell you that blonde’s name, and you don’t care to know it either.

“I made that mistake.” You say, determined to at least not torture him with Henry’s name being spoken aloud and in your home. “But this is also my fault. I knew that things weren’t going well with us, and I said nothing. I kept my mouth shut and let things fester because I didn’t want to fight. I thought maybe I was being sensitive? I’ve never been married before. How much attention do wives get from their husbands?

“I should have told you that I wanted to see you more, that I felt like I wasn’t important to you.” You watch as Bucky leans in, scrunching his eyes with the regret that he made you feel that way. “I betrayed us by not being honest about the struggles I was going through. I’m sorry that I didn’t speak up. I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s eyes search our face, also stained with tears, and then looks at your tummy. “Then, will you stay?”

As his eyes meet yours you shake your head. “No, Bucky, I-I can’t yet. But I wanna try and make this work. I love you…and I miss you…but I’m still so angry at you. I want to trust you, but I don’t know how.”

“I’ll show you. I’ll prove it to you.” He nods. “By doing what we should have done from the very beginning.”

“And what’s that?”

“Will you go out with me?”

The question confuses and startles you. After a few blinks, you shake your head.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I want to take you to dinner and maybe a movie? Or whatever stupid things couples do on dates. We’ll go play mini-golf.”

You laugh once and it’s like you’ve given Bucky back his reason to live. He holds you tighter, stands up to pull you closer. You one laugh igniting a fire within him, a fierce determination. He leans in to kiss you, but you shake your head.

“No.” You’re not ready for that yet.

He doesn’t complain. “Go on a date with me?”

And after a long moment of staring at his beautiful face, you sigh. “Okay.”

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simplyauroras · 6 years ago

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yeethaw & howdy for what will hopefully be the last time partners. i love her with all of my heart, and she just deserves all of the love in this world okay? but enough of me stalling let me introduce you to the love of my life aurora.

biography: ( tw: death tw, r*pe tw, abuse tw, eating disorder tw, self-esteem tw, heart disease tw, suicide tw, mental health tw, depression tw )

it is of my upmost pleasure to introduce to you crowned princess of aurora haraldsen bernadotte of norway

aurora haraldsen was born to a commoner mother turned queen named sonja, by some twist of fate her mother met the king who told his family he would remain unmarried unless he could marry sonja, before they knew it the two were wed

though it was apparent to anyone who was around sonja for even a little while, that the title had gone to her head, and who better to know than her own kin?

aurora came shortly afterwards, and was the eldest of eight six children, ( ages twenty-one, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen, ten & six respectively, aurora herself is twenty-two )

when aurora was around three years old tragedy would strike as her father was killed in a tragic accident, aurora’s mother would continue reigning as queen, but would never remarry

aurora became responsible at a very early age, while at her various lessons the men who were paid to teach her various skills, taught her all the same thing, trust no one, as these men would often rape and abuse the young princess making her believe that it was her fault, this continued until she left the castle ( more on this later )

when she was ten, her youngest sister belle would die because of the abuse and rape inflicted on her, though her mother afraid of staining her image, covered it up to make it look like natural causes

aurora learned from her tween age that there was no room in the castle for anything other than perfection, that a princess should be perfectly poise at all times, she was taught what to do, what to say, how to sit properly, the proper utensils, and all of those other things she found useless

though when striving for perfection you’ll come to realize there’s no such thing, just as aurora did, as her weight constantly fluctuated due to an eating disorder that she developed

she was never anyone’s idea of perfection, she always stumbled over her words, slouched too often, and was always terrible at hiding her emotions, because of this she was often ‘put in line’ by her mother

as if her mother’s words didn’t scorn aurora enough she often hit aurora, who was told very simply to ‘cover up and act like a princess’ a mantra her mother forced into her head, aurora was constantly spilling sorry as if it were an accident

quickly she learned her place, she knew everything someone needed to know about being a princess, though deep down her self-esteem issues were abundant

aurora often spent time with the people who worked around the kingdom, mostly in the kitchen, and that’s where she learned her love for the culinary arts, but more specifically baking

her mother didn’t approve of her past time and aurora was regulated to certain activities throughout the day, on an even stricter schedule than before, so honestly it’d be a huge understatement to say that aurora didn’t have many friends ( or at least many friends that weren’t paid to talk to her )

though despite this it was apparent to anyone who spoke to her that aurora was extremely gifted in anything that she did, including school, any activity she took up she seemed to master, even if it was nothing more than the fact that her mother expected nothing less than perfection from her

when aurora was sixteen she would face tragedy once again when her brother eric would pass away of heart disease, with the loss of belle still not healed, aurora never truly recovered from either

aurora had enough of everything going on in the castle, she planned an escape disguised as volunteer work to sweden, to the royal family there, the bernadottes

while at the castle she met prince nicolas, and quickly the two kids fell in love, everything seemed to finally be falling in place, the two were set to be wed, and at twenty they’d have their first and only child together duchess stjärna ( pronounced star )

two months before their wedding, when star was only six months old, her father prince nicolas would pass away in an apparent suicide

aurora fell into a downward spiral of depression, but knew that she needed if nothing else to provide of her daughter, and although they were never married aurora changed her name legally to bernadotte

aurora had endured too much, she needed a break from europe, well more like an escape, and so she fled to the americas, or more specifically new york

she took star with her ( scared that if she didn’t star would grow up in the same conditions but also afraid that she wouldn’t be able to provide ) and appeared on a baking competition show, concealing her true identity from the rest of the world, she ended up winning, and in the process was offered her own baking/reality tv show ( think the real housewives mixed married to medicine and with cooking & baking shows )

after her mother finally managed to regain contact with aurora last year, they’ve come to an agreement, when the time comes aurora will come back to sweden to rule as queen as she was destined to be ( her mother constantly sends her money even though it isn’t needed to try and make up for aurora’s childhood )

until then aurora is fine with hiding who she is from the public, even though it isn’t very successful because she’s been in the spotlight since she was young

personality:

obviously being raised in royalty she was taught to be eloquent and grace, can maneuver her way anywhere without falling or faltering once, when she opens her mouth it’ll seem to you as if she’s just read an entire thesaurus

can’t advocate for herself, but if you talk about or mess with the people she loves or her family? she’ll fuck you up, not literally, but her gracefulness will be replaced and she’ll scorn you with her words

is very gifted, can be considered a jack of all trades in a way?

she’s extremely supportive of her friends okay??? like if you’re looking for someone to be your cheerleader, and stand by your side no matter what

speaking of falling in love, she’s lowkey a hopeless romantic??? like she’s the kind of girl who falls in love with strangers, or sees people in coffee shops and then envisions their wedding, she’s hopeless but ever since her fiance passed away she’s been slower to fall

has extreme trust issues, afraid that everyone is using her something, or wants something from her

she’s very peristent when there’s somethng she’s striving for, hates giving up on anything especially people ( despite having already given up on herself ) she’ll always push to get what she’s aiming for

is the very defintion of kind, does everything in her power to never ever do something mean unless again it comes to those that she loves

still constantly apologizes for just about everything, is afraid that if she doesn’t say sorry for every other thing she does it’ll cause people to hate her or leave her somehow

despite yearning for love and the feeling of being in it, she’s very philophobic, committing to anything romantic terrifies her, especially since she’s under the notion that it’s even more difficult to fall in love with a single mother

hates letting others know that she’s vulnerable, is often disguising her emotion behind a joke, or by baking things in the middle of the night

wanted connections: ( most of these were taken from nova, sue me, criminial minds is owning my ass right now okay )

frenemies

friends

best friend: after arriving in new york aurora sorta didn’t see the use for a best friend, she simply shrugged off the thought of finding someone who could understand her, and then suddenly she found them, her best friend, she loves them to bits and pieces, and somehow they just feel like an extension of her, nowadays aurora could never imagine going about life without them

protective friend: let’s be real with each other aurora could use all the protecting she can get, not only is she easily hurt by others, but she often gets her hopes up hurting herself in the process, this is probably someone who sees that and is constantly there for aurora, whether it be reluctantly or not, she can always count of them to be by her side

unlikely friends: aurora is the exact opposite of this person, personality wise, fashion wise, and yet the two are still friends, and she actually enjoys it? sometimes she wishes she was outspoken and brash as they are, that she could learn to distance herself so easily, but they constantly prove themselves to be one of the closest friends she has

confidant: aurora never rushes to open up to anyone, but with this person, things just seem natural, she can tell them all of her secrets and for once not be judged for it, even if most of their conversations have to do with aurora crying her eyes out, or showing the true side of her temper, they haven’t given up hope on her just yet

flirtatious friends: aurora can be a flirt, sometimes, okay never. but with this person things are just different? she’s not drawn to them they way that she’s drawn to anyone else, but what’s the harm in flirting? especially if it doesn’t mean anything to either of them, right? this doesn’t mean anything to either of them, right?

friends who used to be enemies: aurora has never really hated anyone, other than her mother, but she draws tons of enemies by just being herself, she hates knowing when people don’t like her, so often she’ll try to be friends with them, try to show them there’s more to her than whatever they think, and by pure luck just this once she was successful

roommates: aurora has a fairly big penthouse, and to keep herself from getting lonely she got a roommate, and about a billion animals for her daughter, although their house looks like a zoo, aurora actually loves her roommate? they’ve seen her at her highest and lowest points, and have decided to live with her dumbass through it all, they don’t even have a problem with star living with them, where would she be without them?

lifelong friends: aurora has known this person for what feels like forever, whether or not they know of her ‘idenity’, she couldn’t imagine functioning without this person, they know the in’s and out’s of aurora bernadotte, her deepest darkest secrets…but maybe that isn’t such a good thing

volunteer together: aurora likes to do a lot of volunteer work, so this one’s pretty self-explanatory, they’re friends simply because they enjoy helping out others together, they’ve become closer the more that they do it, but most of the times they talk it’s simply about charity work

ex-best friends: aurora hates knowing that people don’t like her, plus they were really close and aurora really thoguht maybe she could glue their friendship back together, or that somehow if she held on tight enough then her best friend would stop slipping from her fingers, but it turns out the tighter you grip something, the easier you lose it, aurora still misses them, and still probably accidentally texts them from time to time

forced to be friends because of their social status/family: this muse doesn’t have to particularly like aurora, and aurora may not particularly like them, not that she’d ever admit to that, but because of their social status and who aurora’s parents are she’s constantly forced to hang out with people…who don’t exactly run in the same circles as her

pr relationship: ( tbh give me this & i’ll cry tears of joy thanks ) aurora is essentially america’s sweetheart, there’s no noticable blemish in her reputation and that’s exactly what happened when their agents set these two up, i mean after all, how hard can faking a relationship be?

exes: uhhhh there’s too many different kind of exes to make this general enough, so instead give me exes on bad terms, exes on good terms, exes who might even still have feelings for each other

will they, won’t they: aurora and this person have been flirting for what seems like ages, they have a somewhat stable friendship, and she’s been harboring a crush for quite sometime but there’s always some sort of obstacle, a pr relationship, a secret, the universe has a very funny way of saying these two shouldn’t be together, or maybe it’s the universe proving that they can get through anything?

unrequited love: like i said before aurora has a really bad tendency to push away those who love her the most, and this time is obviously no different, they’ve probably never told them about her crush, and she has absolutely zero notice that they even have one, but we all new york has a funny way of making people confess

one night stand: aurora is still trying to find herself, this one night stand was most likely an accident, she probably left in the early morning with no intention of seeing this person ever again, but somehow she can’t seem to escape them

literally anything give me all the angst and feels you can, i promise either way i’ll probably cry about it

#this is? a novel?#i'm not sorry though #death tw #r*pe tw #abuse tw #eating disorder tw #self esteem tw #heart disease tw #suicide tw #mental health tw #depression tw #intro

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nyanzaya · 7 years ago

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Verse: Tranquility Words: 2850 Summery: Zuo recounts how he had met Queen, or rather Iza for the first time.

Again.

It’s happening again. The creamed colored cat thought, drawing a cigarette from its package. Something about it was annoying truthfully, but what was Zuo supposed to do about it? Surely, he could step in, stop Queen from doing what he always did.

He brought the stick to his mouth and covered the end to block the wind from blowing out the flame to light it. Taking a drag he couldn’t help but judge Queen’s actions.

Of course, Queen was someone he known since he was about 20 years old.

Zuo was on a mission that night that led him into a stripper club. He knew there were pimps and people of influence looking for a sort of ‘trade’ to get their hands on the women there. Of course, he should have known he would have been stopped by one of the strippers.

“Hey, Sweetheart, care for a drink?”

It was another neko. A black cat with a collar and bell on. Zuo couldn’t hate her, she looked very attractive in lingerie, a crop top, but still sported an apron that only went around her waist. Though; upon closer inspection, they didn’t take on much of a feminine look. They were flat chested, but fit; petite even. It was so dim in the club, it was hard to tell if they actually were a man or a woman.

At first, Zuo was unsure if he should take a drink, he had a mission at hand. He had to stop someone from becoming a criminal.

“Sorry, Sweetcheeks, but I have to get going.” The cream-colored feline said, trying to push through to the other cat that he had to get going. It turned fruitless.

“Where are you going? Please! Stay with me and I’ll buy you the drink instead.” She spoke, though now, her voice didn’t sound so womanly. Why did she sound almost like a man?

“Stay with you? I can’t and I don’t need a drink I just need to get to the back.”

“The back you say? I can totally take you there.” She spoke sweetly to him, though Zuo didn’t seem to phased by it. He had to keep his mind at the mission at hand.

He gave a nod, “Lead the way, Sweetie.”

“Oh, how charming you are.”

It didn’t take long for Zuo to find himself in another room, though it seemed that she had lead him to a room he didn’t want to be in. This wasn’t the right room at all. Why did she lead him to the wrong place on purpose? The room was dim, though now he could actually see the woman he assumed had lead him into a private room.

Upon taking in her slim figure, how well her hips curved, and her tail sway left to right as if trying to entice him and seeing her spin around. Ah. It’s a man.

Wait a man?!

Zuo felt bamboozled, though; how could he be blamed? They were shorter than him, and wore provocative clothing that he thought only a woman would wear and the club was darky lit. He wasn’t in the mood to play this game.

“You said you would take me to the back.” He growled, irritated at the fact that he had lead him into the wrong place.

“I can’t let you get in my way, not yet.” The black feline said, closing the door revealing that he was wearing heels. It explained why they were tall truthfully but Zuo was still taller than him.

“Not yet? Listen, you don’t understand what I’m saying.” Zuo was trying to explain, but the black feline stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his chest.

“I was listening, but it’s you who doesn’t understand.” The black feline said, pulling away to twirl, “Let me dance for you.”

The cream-colored feline gave a frown. What was a dance going to do to solve anything? Though, perhaps they would explain more if he got to dance for him. ”Alright, Queen, I’ll let you dance for me only if you explain yourself.” Zuo was serious, though it seemed that the Stripper found it funny.

“Alright, Tom, take a seat and I’ll explain.”

The taller feline sat down on the sofa, which felt wonderful. It was soft, but firm enough to be considered a luxury. Quickly, he found himself becoming comfortable. Zuo watched the black feline come closer to him and begin to dance, though Zuo was sure this was a lad dance, wasn’t it? The question he had was quickly answered with how Queen had started to dance almost provocatively, stripping off his apron that was around his waist to reveal a skirt.

“Were you always into cross-dressing?” Zuo couldn’t help but ask now.

The black feline’s tail flicked to the side, almost annoyed that he was asked that question but quickly turned it into a slow sway. “No, but I kind of like it, I get to wear cute clothes like these.” He explained and removed his crop top to throw it onto Zuo’s head.

Instantly, Zuo’s ears flattened, almost annoyed that the other had thrown his clothes onto him. Though, as he moved the shirt from his face, the scent on it was almost sweet. Something about it was fresh like grass or washed in sweet smelling soap before placing it on his lap. Getting a better look at the Stripper’s figure, it was clear that they did not appear to be that strong, but it was obvious to Zuo that they were fit. Especially, if they were to go on a pole and had to suspend himself onto the pole. He vaguely wondered if their legs were their strongest part of them. It wouldn’t surprise him truthfully.

“Hey, Sweetheart, don’t just stare~ Nyaa~ How lewd.” Queen couldn’t help but tease, running a hand over his chest, as if trying to entice Zuo somehow, but the cream-colored feline wasn’t exactly interested. He couldn’t lie; The Stripper was very attractive, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t stop thinking about his mission.

The black feline snapped his fingers, “I’m right here, Honey, come back to me please.”

Zuo’s ear twitched. “Hey, what’s your actual name. I can’t keep referring to you as Sweetheart, or Honey, or Queen after all.” He brought his hand to his temples, rubbing the spot as if trying to cure a headache.

It was clear to Zuo that they seemed to like being called all of those nicknames, with the way their ears twitched and his tail swaying in a soft way.

They did say they would explain things, since, after all; they were practically stripping for this man. “Aww, what’s the fun in me telling you my name already? But, I’ll tell you that I think you are a little too late in asking questions now.” He explained, coming dangerously close to Zuo’s face. If Zuo so wanted he could lean forward and press a kiss onto their lips with how close the other was and catching more of their scent, there was a trace of iron.

“Too late?” Zuo asked, truthfully with how close the other was he did want to kiss them. He raised a hand to bring it to the other’s side but found his hand being slapped away.

“Ah, ah, ah, no touching.” The stripper said and pulled away, “As ominous as it sounds it will make sense here is a few moments. I know what you do, and I think you are going about it the wrong way.” The black feline explained and grabbed his crop top.

It seemed that this Queen knew what he did. He didn’t kill people or anything, but he did step in and fight them, take them out of the picture and convince them to not do anything too crazy with their power, though it was ironic for Zuo to beat them to a pulp and then threaten them with more violence. The worst thing he has done to someone was put them in a hospital. It was all in the name of justice after all. Justice for his people, who were always looked down upon. Of course, he wants people to see that his kin didn’t deserve to be treated as animals. He had done good things as well such as: Helped police find suspects, saved kids from a car crash. Surely, that would be enough for people to see what he wanted right? Though, what did this Stripper was talking about.

Going about this whole thing the wrong way? It didn’t take a genius to figure out that they were also trying to do something similar to what he was doing. Zuo frowned at their words. It seemed that they were done dancing for him when they grabbed their shirt and put it back on. Zuo wouldn’t say it was half-assed, it was quite enticing though he was more interested in their name and knowing what exactly they meant.

“The least I ask is your name, I deserve that, don’t I?” The cream-colored cat leaned forward, reaching for their arm.

With his arm being held, the Stripper seemed reluctant about giving him that information, but he gave in with an annoyed flick of his tail. “Fine, Sweetheart, but only if you tell me yours.”

“Zuo.” He said quickly, his ears leaned forward in interest. It was clear to him that the other was interested too, the way his tail flicked now that he wasn’t annoyed.

“Iza, I have to get back to work. Consider this a free dance. Usually, I’d have people pay, but since you are special I simply couldn’t resist.” Iza said and reached up to their face, despite having heels on he still felt short compared to Zuo’s height and pressed a small chaste kiss onto their lips.

Zuo should have expected them to have such a name, though it seemed to fit the other perfectly. “Iza...it suits you.” The name seemed so familiar, though; he couldn’t place it. It was better to not think about it truthfully.

Iza pulled himself away from Zuo’s touch and went to the door to open it. “Of course, it suits me, only the best get great names.”

For a moment Zuo wasn’t sure if he should have been offended at their words. “Fuck you.” It was an impulse, though; in the end the Zuo decided to get offended. He wasn’t going to let some smaller black cat insult him like that and seeing the way Iza grinned and slipped out of the room Zuo followed, feeling insulted. If Iza wanted to play like that Zuo was going to go after him and punch him.

It was hard to follow Iza in the club, it was still dimly lit, and the bass of the music vibrated in his body. This place was so high in energy Zuo swore that there was no way he was going to be able to find Iza here. All of the mixed scents were dizing.

Luckily, he spotted him, walking towards what looked like the back of the club. Exactly what he was looking for and carefully made his way through the crowd of people, weaving in and out of the crowd. Eventually, he made it to his destination. He was still set on punching that damn black cat. Looking around he still couldn’t find the damn bastard.

Then there was a scream and quickly, Zuo forgot about Iza and rushed towards the sound. He barged into a door and into another room private room. There scent in the air was heavy with iron and he was about to ask what happened, but he froze for a moment to take in the scene.

He failed what he set out to do. Person he had to stop was covered in blood. It was clear that he was murdered. Zuo looked toward the stripper finding that she had grey splatters of what Zuo could assume was blood. Quickly, he regained his stance. “What happened, Sweetheart?” He asked, comforting the woman who was in tears.

“I- I don’t know! I was doing my job and I turn away for a moment to strip off my skirt only to turn around and suddenly there is blood on me and- and…” She spoke quickly, frantically clinging onto the tall feline who was frowning.

Another look at the scene and there was a small hole in the wall, for what Zuo could was a bullet hole. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but all he knew was whoever had killed this man had just ruined his mission.

Several hours went by and the police arrived, closing the club down.

Zuo was outside now, wearing attire similar to a bartender but, he had worn it simply for the mission. He was more drawn towards simple things like jeans and a nice shirt with a few simply words on it, though he was sure he could get used to wearing something similar to what he was wearing now.

The cream feline drew a cigarette from his package. It was baffling and shocking to him that someone would kill that man. He didn’t have that much power, of course; he had money but any influence? Zero to none truthfully. Zuo lit his cigarette and decided to leave, finding no true information. The more he thought about it the more irritated he became.

Iza appeared in front of him again, “Hey, Tom, how was the show?”

Simply looking at Iza, it clicked. Everything Iza had said made sense now. He was too late because he was distracted. Iza was a distraction. Why? Why would Iza distract him like that?

“You.” He started off, unable to control himself, he snapped his cigarette in half.

The black feline simply watched, unafraid of Zuo. It was clear to Iza that they were angry, but that didn’t deter him, rather he found something fun about it.

Zuo stepped forward, throwing his cigarette to the ground, not bothering with stomping on it. “I needed him alive. And you killed him.” He gave a low growl.

“Me? Kill someone? No, no, no, Tom, I simply gave someone the information for it. For me to do such a thing? How unrefined.” Iza spoke, almost teasing, yet; at the same time, he was serious. He had nothing to do with that man’s death. Iza did his job. Though, with Zuo still crouching forward like a tiger on the hunt, Iza turned tail and ran.

“Come back here, Queen!” Zuo snarled, giving chase. He didn’t expect Iza to be so fast. Did they run away from people often? It was hard to grasp that such a smaller feline was just out of his reach.

Just as he was about to grab onto the black feline, they had made a sharp turn, leaving Zuo to keep running forward and run right into a street pole. The cream feline fell, hand on his face and suddenly he felt heated.

Iza returned, to see if Zuo had ran into the pole and seeing that he did the feline laughed. It was clear to Iza that Zuo was angry, seeing the way his tail fluffed, and his ears turned to the sides displaying his anger. Though, what Iza hadn’t expected was for Zuo to reach for the street pole. Iza was sure Zuo couldn’t lift it, there wasn’t any way he could be that strong, but to his surprise Zuo was able to lift it from the ground.

The force he had placed onto the street pole had bent it slightly, though when compared to the likes of Shizuo Heiwajima, Zuo had simply bent the pole, rather than leave a clear print of where he had held onto it to rip if out of the concrete.

“Quit running, Queen.”

“Only if you catch me, Tom.”

The chase continued.

Zuo couldn’t exactly remember what happened after that point. All he remembered what he did catch Iza, though the small black feline said that he should join him, but Zuo refused thinking the way Iza was doing things was wrong. How could Zuo work with someone who gave away information that ended with people getting killed? Iza was ruining all of his hard work!

The feline gave a low growl, annoyed by it all and took another drag of his cigarette. Zuo figured what he could do would be to stop Iza from getting more people killed. With a twitch of his ears and a flick of his tail, he breathed out the smoke with a sigh. He wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Zuo wanted to avoid that type of violence, despite how quick he was to anger at times.

Finish off his cigarette, he placed it in a small white envelope and tucked it in his vest pocket.

“Time to beat some bastard’s ass.” He simply said, as if it were an everyday thing.

The least that was owed to him was respect. Perhaps, that was one of the few things he and his Queen shared in common.

#Drabble #About Zuo #About Iza #v; Tranquility

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gukiex · 7 years ago

Text

Day & Night - ch 1

Genre: Angst, AU, eventual smut and dare is say specks of fluff.

Pairing: BadBoy!Yoongi x Fran, ChildhoodCrush!Jimin x Fran

Count: 3311 words

Summary: She was the girl everyone wanted, people would stop in their tracks when she would pass by, she wasn’t oblivious to the desire that radiated from men who wanted her and women who wanted to be her. Even with her wealth and title she still felt like she wasn’t truly living, so when he moves back home and brings back an unexpected friend, her already fragile world would surely fold in on itself, creating a chaos even her pure heart couldn’t handle.

She walked with an undeniable amount of grace, her gentle steps smooth and delicate. It appeared as if she were gliding along with the soft wind that blew loose stands of platinum hair against her sun kissed face. Men stole glances but wouldn’t dare to stare, they knew better. This beautiful creature wasn’t only out of their league; she was out of their world.

She adored the attention, it made her feel even more beautiful than she knew she was. A beauty like hers could drive a man to insanity and whomever she would chose to be with would be living with a curse and a blessing; a paradox love.

And you would think, a beauty like this would surely be snatched up in the blink of an eye, right? But no, her loneliness loomed over her like a dark cloud awaiting to unleash it’s unwanted rain. Why?, you might be wondering? What’s stopping the most desired woman from being truly happy? You see, It all comes down to a distinct last name, loved by many but feared by all. A name that holds so much power and demands endless respect harbours a soul that wants nothing more than to be free. She isn’t you’re ordinary belle, she’s the daughter to a high standing man, a loving yet overly protective father who wants nothing, absolutely nothing but the best for his kin.

But he didn’t know that. And when he did, it didn’t stop him either.

“Miss.” A voice called out, smoother than silk. Her brows raised at the sound that appeared so foreign for it was rare to hear someone speak to her when she was out. A gentle palm was resting on her bare shoulder that only occupied a slender strap from her dress. She froze at the touch but used the rest of her will power to turn and look at whomever would be idiotic enough to touch, let alone speak to her in their life.

Her set of eyes attached to another’s and she swore she could feel herself slowing being drained of life.

“You dropped this.”

Even though her pulse was drowning out any sounds around her she still managed to hear his intoxicating voice over the booming sound of her rapid heart beat.

Her eyes casted down towards his hand that was holding out a piece of folded paper. She squinted as she tried to notice any familiarity but it wasn’t recognizable, not right away at least.

“Fran?” A voice called from a distance and panic striked in her eyes. She knew he saw it too but she couldn’t risk any extra seconds right now.

“U-uh, thanks.” Fran mumbled quickly and grasped the paper from his hand, turning and rushing away without hearing any refusal from the man who watched behind her

“Who was that?” Jin growled as she finally approached him.

“I don’t know, he handed me something I dropped. I didn’t even realize my purse was open, silly me.” Fran awkwardly giggles, moving to step in front of Jin’s curious gaze that was set on the male who was behind them. His stare was now placed on Fran who was acting oddly strange to him but he didn’t press any further, he knew that this was the least of her worries for the day.

“Wait - Jin, why exactly are you here?” She asked suddenly when she realized that today was supposed to be a personal day without any supervision.

“Your father sent me to collect you, let’s go.” He informed, turning and walking away without another word.

Fran stood worried, obviously unsure of what might lay ahead for her. Whenever her father requested her home it was never good. She took one step before remembering the foreign object that was held in her hand. She lifted her clenched fist and opened it to look at the paper that slightly crumbled in her grasp. She took it between her fingers and opened it hoping something familiar was inside to help her remember what it was, but there wasn’t.

It was a number, with one simple word written below it and her eyes widened as she saw it.

889-6754

Yoongi

“Dad?” Fran called outside of her fathers office door after a brief knock.

“Come in.” His deep voice answered and she exhaled before turning the knob and slowly entering the room. He didn’t look up when she walked in and Fran gulped as her nerves began to increase.

“Sit.” He instructed with a stern tone and she did as she was told and plopped down onto the chair before him. Fran folded her palms and just as her head began to bow, preparing herself for whatever scolding she had to endure until his voice spoke again.

“You’re not in trouble Franny.” Her dads voice spoke calmly and her head snapped up to look at his face soft features staring right back.

“Oh?” She breathed out a sigh of relief and he smiled when she began to relax. “Than why did you get Jin to come bring me home?”

“I have something important to discuss with you.”

“Mhm?” She hummed growing curious as to what might be so important that it had to interrupt her personal day.

“The Park’s are back in town.”

Her eyes grew at this piece of information. The Park’s, a name she hadn’t heard in ages.They were once Fran’s neighbours, back when she was a much, much younger. Their family was quite close until Mr. Park’s wife passed away with cancer and soon after her death they moved away, making their best efforts to keep in touch for a while but it died off in the previous few years.

“We’re hosting a party here now that they’re moving back into their old residence in celebration for their return.”

Fran inhaled deeply.

That meant, the eldest son, Jimin would be in her house once again. After all of the years of no communication he was back and Fran wasn’t quite sure how to take it. Should she be happy about his return, he was her childhood crush after all. Or should she be upset, considering he hadn’t even called or sent a text after 7 years. But regardless, she knew that it wouldn’t be appropriate for her to spoil the night with mixed feelings about his return, so she pushed the thoughts to the side and returned back to the conversation.

“When?” She asked giving her father her full attention again.

“Tonight at 9.”

She almost choked on air

Tonight?! She thought silently, I figured I’d at least get a day to digest this, especially if I'd have to see him again. She mentally panicked but there was no arguing this decision with the man before her, if her father said tonight than it was happening tonight. No exceptions. She looked to the clock and it read 2pm, she had enough time to prepare for the evening and still get more stuff done. If she spent 2 more hours out and came back before 5 she’d still have plenty of time to prepare with no need to rush.

“Okay, I’ll be ready. Am I free to go?” She asked looking to her father who consumed himself in his work once again. He waved her off and she stood to her feet and exited the office with no delay.

Her driver took her back to the city so she could continue with her affairs and she even picked up a dress for later that night. When she finished she returned to the house, stealing a glance at the once unoccupied Park residence that now was hosting its previous owners. Cars parked in the driveway, 3 in total, one more than enough for the 2 men that would now be living in the property again and she wondered whom it might be that would be visiting them already. Shaking away her curious thoughts she focused only on looking her best later since it would be the first time seeing Jimin after so long. She wanted to prove that she wasn’t still the kid that he always thought of her to be. Their age only being 3 years apart but, her 20 and him now 23, she was a woman and she would show him that.

••

“Miss. Francesca they’re waiting for you downstairs.” Her maid Nani called from outside her door. But she didn’t move. She stood frozen in front of her mirror, eyes raking over her appearance for the hundredth time in what might only have been 5 minutes. She normally wasn’t like this, she knew she was beautiful but the thought of Jimin seeing her for the first time as a full grown adult, a fully blossomed flower, she wasn’t sure what he would think for himself. Her self confidence was slowly decreasing by the minute as she stared at herself with so much intensity trying to see what he might see. Any bits of flaws he might detect or would he fall for her looks like most men did, appreciating her most admirable features.

She brushed a hand over her perfectly straightened hair, the once brunette colour bleached to a whitish blonde that Jimin had yet to see her with and also ran her palm down over her beige dress that hugged her curves perfectly. She was completely different than who she was before. The once petite girl with dark brown hair had filled out and died her long locks. She toyed with a strand of her bleached locks, wondering if he would approve of the change.

Fran turned from the mirror, realizing how ridiculous she was being over someone who might’ve forgotten she even existed. She pushed the exhausting thoughts to the side and rekindled the courage she normally had to exit the room and join the party that was now in full effect for 20 whole minutes. She could already hear her father scolding her for being late and regretted wasting so much time stressing about something that didn’t even truly matter.

Low music was heard from down the hall as voices filled the already buzzing atmosphere. The reality of the situation was creeping in with every step she took and her nerves she were bubbling back up to the surface but Fran used every ounce of inner strength to push them down.

With a long deep breath Fran pushed open the doors to the massive hall that would occupy the family’s closet and dearest friends.

After a few seconds Fran thought her arrival would go unnoticed until her wandering gaze settled on Jin who had been waiting for her to make her appearance, shooting her a warning stare at her tardiness. She sent an apologetic smile his away but he shook his head in disapproval.

Her eyes studied the group of estimated 30 people, the number being a lot more than she expected, all mingling and eating hor d'oeuvres when she saw him. Eye's bluging and jaw slacked as she watched his sip his drink causally. He was standing in a corner with a group of familiar faces, all chatting and laughing, enjoying each other's company.

She felt dizzy.

He was here.

Why was he here?

The man from the street.

Yoongi.

“Fran?” Her fathers voice spoke from behind her and she turned to see him standing with a very familiar man.

“Mr. Park!” She cooed when she realized whom it was. Joyed to see the man who was such a positive impact on her youth but she still couldn’t get over the fact that the guy, Yoongi whom approached her hours ago and gave her his number so confidently was now standing in her house, metres away. So many confused thoughts running through her mind but she put on her best smile, hiding her burning curiosity that swelled inside of her knowing the stranger was just in the other side of the room.

“Fran, You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman.” He greeted her before bringing her into a long hug. Fran always loved his hugs, he was a lot more affectionate with his kids than her father, the younger version of her always selfishly wishing he could be more like his friend because when he would hold her in his embrace, a warmth consumed that she barely received from her own blood. Mr. Park had a calmer, more carefree personality than her father, taking the girl under his wing many times as he began feeling sympathy for the kind girl who was sheltered away for majority of her youth.

“Thank you Mr. Park.”

“Have you seen Jimin yet?” He asked his eyes raking the crowd obviously looking for his son.

“No, I haven’t.” She answered but the presence of someone standing beside her dawned on her seconds later.

“Fran?” The voice spoke and she looked over to see a slightly taller but much more grown up version of the boy who stole her heart all those years ago standing directly next to her.

“J-Jimin.” She smiled up at him, her stomach in knots as she took in his manly features. His face a lot more slimmer, the chubby cheeks that filled filled his features chiseled down into prominent cheek bones, his once blackish brown hair died to a much softer brown. Toned arms showing through his rolled up black button-up shirt that was barely able to contain the bulging muscles. He used to be a scrawny boy but now he’d grown into the complete opposite and Fran found herself, once again, completely and utterly taken with him.

“You’ve changed so much.” Jimin commented and Fran wasn’t sure if he was complimenting her or not.

“Uh -” she trailed off only for him to flash his perfect teeth whilst placing his hand on her bare arm. She stiffened under his warm touch, he didn’t notice and yet something inside her wished he did.

“Let’s leave these old ones to mingle and head over to the real party to catch up, yeah?” Jimin suggested and before Fran could reply his hand slipped down her arm until fingers were laced together, the action causing Fran to feel an overwhelming sense of desire to pass out right then and there. He dragged her away without hesitation and lead them over to the area where she once saw Yoongi standing earlier. If her nerves were bad before they were surely ready to explode now but when they neared the group she finally was able to breathe when he was no where to be seen.

“Fran, you remember the guys right?” Jimin asked from beside her and she looked around at the familiar faces that she hadn’t seen since they’d graduated a few classes a head of her own.

“Fran? Where's the little cupcake?” Taehyung cooed, looking directly past the girl whom Jimin was introducing as he didn't recognize the woman before him. Fran giggled and gave a small wave and smile in his direction, allowing Taehyung's jumping gaze to settle onto her, his eyes bulging from his head at the sight of the not so nerdy Fran he was expecting to see. The last time any of Jimin’s old friends had seen her was 5 years ago when they graduated from her school. She was still a brunette than and her taste in style was quite lacking too.

“Wow -" Hoseok let out a long breath, eyes subtly checking out the new version of the girl he'd once been close with. "You look good Francesca, how have you been?” He asked after his orbs finished their approving sweep one last time. Unaffected by the blatant staring by not only Hoseok but Taehyung who's gobsmacked expression had yet to leave his face, Fran shrugged before replying, “I’ve been good. I just got back from visiting mom in Australia for a year not to long ago.” Conversation was always easy with Hoseok since he was the one who kept speaking with her the most after Jimin left. Even though she was always seen as the girl who followed them around as kids they still looked out for her and treated her kindly. She never really had friends growing up due to her inability to hold a conversation for long but the guys always made sure to watch out for her and she adored them for it.

“Australia? When did she move there?” Jimin asked curiously, he knew of her parents divorce but not that her mother moved to the other side of the world.

“A-about 3 years ago.” Fran answered hesitantly, still not able to speak to him without feeling like her heart was about to burst whenever he said something to her. She was starting to feel like an absolute fool, this inability to form a decent answer without sounding like she were in the cold with chattering teeth. The girl mentally face palmed herself, her old timid self shining through and it wasn’t helping her prove to Jimin that she had grown up like she wanted to.

“That must be awesome, Australia is such a cool place to live.” Taehyung said and received a nudge from Hoseok which cause Fran to chuckle.

“Oh, uh, I mean, that must suck due to the circumstance and all?” Taehyung stuttered not realizing how bad that sounded considering the divorce was what caused the move.

“It’s fine, I’m over it now so it doesn’t bother me anymore.” She informed and Taehyung raised his brow at Hoseok, silently proving his words were quite alright to say.

“Where’s Jungkook and Namjoon?” Fran asked noticing the missing members of the group.

“Probably huddled up together in their studio writing love songs about each other.” Taehyung mused finally regaining his ability to function and everyone laughed, Fran recalling how passionate the males were when it came to their music.

“What are we laughing about over here?” A familiar voice rang through her ears, sparking a feeling of recognition.

Yoongi.

Eyes were now planted on the young man perched beside Jimin, the new member giving the group a quizzical look as he took a drink from his glass.

Fran was the only one who stared longer than 5 seconds.

He was stunning. She finally got to look at him full on and he was absolutely breathtaking.

Blonde locks that were previously covered by a hat was now on display, the locks partically covering his eyes as they looked down upon her, the dyed strands framing his perfectly structured face, the colour on his paler complexion standing out shockingly, the contrast between the two shades was a beautiful combination. His dark orbs were sparkling and lips pulled into a warming smile were the shade of a ripe strawberry. His style was perfect for him, a black long sleeve shirt, washed out denim jeans hugging his toned thighs and faded black combat boots adjourning his feet, the simplicity of the outfit really bringing attention to his flawless featureless. He looked like a gift from heaven and she couldn’t help but silently accuse this man of being a lab project because he was undoubtably perfect.

Just when she thought Yoongi didn’t remember her the girls thoughts were shattered when his mouth parted to speak once again.

“Oh? It’s you again.” His voice brought her from her trance and soon all eyes were staring at the pair in question.

“You two know each other?” Jimin asked as he looked over at his friend with uncertainty.

“Not really, I ran into her at the shops this afternoon. But Cinderella ran away before I could even learn her name. Fran is it? Is that short for something?” He asked not even looking towards Jimin as he answered his question. His smirk was apparent as he watched the girl who was visibly in shock from his unexpected appearance at the party. Little did Fran know, she’d be seeing a lot of him than she could imagine.

“Francesca.” She spoke after a long silence and if it weren’t for the men being so quietly observant Yoongi probably would have never heard the name escape her lips.

“Hmm, I like that name. It suits you.” He complimented and Fran couldn’t control the hot flush that settled in her cheeks at his simple words.

She turned away embarrassed by the effect he had on her, today was not a normal day for the young woman. It’s not like she wasn’t used to hearing people compliment her, it happened all the time. But today was going all wrong. First Jimin, now Yoongi; Fran felt faint.

“Excuse me.” She rushed out before turning from the group, ignoring Jimin call after her in concern.

Rushing towards the bathroom she arrived within seconds and locked the door behind her, leaning her head against the wooden frame.

Her breathing was uneasy due to her rush to get away but she knew that her dash to safety wasn’t the cause of her sudden shortness of breath.

It was the intensity of his eyes. The sound of his voice and his intoxicating smile. Once again, the too familiar sense of feeling completely drained by the total stranger consumed her.

And this time Jimin wasn’t to blame.

A strong wave of embarrassment washed over her as she replayed her reaction from moments ago wondering how she could be so easily affected by a complete stranger? She absolutely hated it, cursing at herself for getting so flustered, she was an adult acting like total child.

Only deep, deep down the blonde, who wouldn’t admit it to even god himself, secretly loved it at the same time.

••

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