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xalygatorx · 7 months ago

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Powerless (2017) | Chapter 18, "New Dreams & Foolish Hearts"

Years after Sarah’s wit and bravery saved her brother and brought the Labyrinth to its knees, her daughter Andie is transported to what remains of that same fantastical place, somewhere she thought only existed in her favorite childhood stories. To find her way back home, she must traverse what’s left of the crumbling kingdom, find a way to set both moments and magic in motion again, and even save the Goblin King, himself. But who will save her from him?

Powerless is a SFW slow-burn romance between Jareth and an original female character. The story overall contains descriptions of fantasy violence, mild suggestive content, and grief regarding family illness. Chapter-by-chapter warnings will be provided as well.

Summary: The celebration ball commences and marks Andie’s last promised night in the labyrinth. Conflicted, Andie explains her new plight to the Wiseman away from the party, who offers her some advice. Against her own wishes, Andie leaves the party to find her way home to her family. Jareth moves the stars to help her.

Pairing: Jareth x Fem!OC

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4.7k

"This is bad," Andie grumbled as she tripped over her own feet for the second time since they had started, grimacing at her lack of progress though it had only been twenty minutes.

"You are doing fine. Surprisingly well, in fact," Jareth told her patiently, though she could tell it was taking some forethought for him to be so patient with her. "Just keep trying. And stand up straight."

"Look, I'll perfect the posture after I perfect the steps," she bartered, protesting when he suddenly smirked and tightened his arm around her waist, swinging her off her feet in a graceful spin across the empty throne room pit. The ballroom was teeming with goblins doing who knew what to prepare for the night ahead, so instead of working around them, Jareth had opted to take her elsewhere.

Besides that, he did not need his subjects ogling the two of them as they had throughout her nearly seven-day stay. He couldn't quite keep his mind off what she might do once her promised week had ended, telling himself time and time again that he already knew the answer—that she would return home—and yet he kept that careful state of "perhaps" in the back of his mind. He stopped spinning her after a couple of turns, but still held her in his arms, gently swaying them both. "You needn't aim for perfect. I simply desire the pleasure of a dance with you."

Andie smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder, letting him lead her slowly from side to side; slow dancing, she knew how to do. "Well, I appreciate you not letting me embarrass myself," she commented, drawing a deep chuckle from her dance partner.

"I do draw the line somewhere," he informed her, smiling when she raised her head from his shoulder to look at him dubiously. He leaned in and stole a kiss before placing one of his hands back in hers. "We will start again. Do you remember the steps?"

Andie hesitated and then gave a brief nod. "I think so. But go slow, okay?"

"Of course," he said, just glad she wasn't giving up, even if she was complaining occasionally and impatient for success. He supposed he might be, too, in her situation. When she appeared ready and straightened her spine, he slowly began the steps for the simple waltz he was teaching her and she followed along, uncertain at first until she gradually grew more confident.

The more sure she became, the more he began to increase the speed of their dance by increments until they were at the customary pace and she was no longer stumbling, though she did look down at her feet every so often. "Look at me, chin up, straight spine," Jareth instructed her calmly and she did just that, smiling as she realized she was finally getting the hang of it. "See? Not so bad…"

"Until I have to do this in heels, I'm assuming," Andie groaned, twirling beneath his arm as he spun her playfully, catching her easily back within his arms. Instead of answering her, Jareth just rolled his eyes and swung her into a dip, plucking her up bridal style and carrying her over to his throne, sitting down and depositing her on his lap as he leaned back. "I can't possibly be an expert," she said in surprise when he seemed as if he was ready to quit after no more than forty-five minutes.

"I am emotionally damaged from your scuffing of my boots, I need a moment to compose myself," he drawled, smirking when she elbowed him in the ribs. He noted a heap of gossamer fabric shuffling through on its own just then, running into a support pillar before muttering and hurrying to the right. While he just looked unamused, Andie appeared bewildered, soon deciding there must have been a goblin under all that shimmery fabric. "We have run out of time at any rate," Jareth added as he glanced toward the high windows above the castle entrance, which burned with dawn's warm embrace.

"Indeed, the decorations are running away," she joked, glancing back at Jareth, who smiled. She did note with some degree of sadness, however, that it did not touch his eyes. Andie looked at him thoughtfully and leaned in, kissing his cheek obnoxiously enough that he recoiled in feigned disdain. "I thought you'd be excited about your ball," she observed, pronouncing the last word as if it were a curse or an unwanted side dish.

"Excited?" he repeated a bit dismissively. "I am anticipating it, but I would not call myself excited."

"Well, get excited," she ordered him, standing up and stretching. "If anything, for the lack of grace that will be me on the dance floor. I know how you love to laugh at me."

Jareth's lips quirked faintly. "Fine. Go upstairs and get dressed. I will see you soon."

Andie gave up and did as suggested, amazed as she had been every night at the sunset that greeted her from the hall window, brilliant and vibrant and seemingly with a life of its own. She moved quickly down the corridor to her room, pushing the door open and marveling at the colors the crystals threw and the white surfaces reflected from the light filtering through the glass. She smiled and admired the spectra of light as she walked inside, a small sigh of awe easing from her.

"Milady!"

Andie startled backward toward the door at the squeak from the otherwise silent room, glancing around until she finally thought to look down. A pipsqueak of a goblin stood near her feet, peering up at her. Its bulgy eyes seemed childlike and it regarded her curiously while she tried to decide whether or not it was a threat. She couldn't quite get the rampaging side of the goblins she'd seen much earlier in the Labyrinth out of her mind, but they appeared to be much more tame now. Likely trying to win back favor with their king. "Yes?"

"My name is Rem, Your Ladyship!" it added.

"Don't be introducing yourself like that!" another voice squawked nearby. "Address your mistress accordingly, she don't care what your name is!"

Rem looked speechless until the goblin she'd decided was likely female stuttered out, "O-oh, I'm sorry!"

"No, no, it's fine. It's lovely to meet you," Andie quickly intervened. "But… What are you doing in my room?"

"Why, we're here to help you dress!" the other goblin—much squatter than Rem—replied. "Go on, then, shed your clothes and we'll get your dress on!" This also-female goblin seemed so matronly that Andie had to focus on not laughing in order to avoid hurting the goblin's pride.

Thinking it was better not to argue and also knowing she might need some help, Andie stepped carefully over the two goblins bickering before her, unbuttoning the sky blue shirt she'd worn from the trunk Jareth had presumably left for her during her first day in the castle and beginning to slide it off. She'd been making her way toward the silver trunk to see what it had in the realm of formalwear when her eyes caught on two innocuous white boxes on the end of her bed, nearly blending in with the white comforter.

Frowning, she set the discarded shirt down to investigate, slipping her fingertips beneath the edge of the largest box's lid, lifting it off, and pawing through the tissue inside until she got to the contents and her breath caught. Inside was the finest gown she'd ever seen, extravagant film costumes included. Deep, rich navy blue with faint traces of dark violet placed along the skirt, which was composed of layers of sheer fabric building upon one another like petals on a rose. The bodice and the off-the-shoulder sleeves were the same midnight blue shade, the entirety of the gown riddled with fluctuating volumes of tiny starlike crystals, moving from widely scattered individual stones to clusters of them that mirrored the incredible galaxy she'd seen each night from her window.

"Ooh, a lovely garment for the lady!" the older goblin crooned, having hopped onto the bed to get a look at the inside of the box. "Go on, hurry, Miss! Will take some time to prepare ye!"

Andie snapped out of her trance on the dress and nodded, tipping the lid off the smaller box while she wriggled out of her trousers and slouched-style boots. The smaller box contained matching heels—she shuddered—and satin gloves, with crystal hairpins and small teardrop earrings.

Once she had finished undressing, the two goblins helped wrangle her into the black petticoat and corset to traditionally go beneath the gown and then had her sit at the marble vanity at the far side of the room. She sat quite still while the older goblin—who she discovered was named Neff—worked on curling and intricately styling her hair into a formal bun with the crystal bead-adorned pins and Rem put in her earrings and slid on her gloves. Andie was a little wary when it came to Rem wielding cosmetics, but she remained still and allowed it, thinking she would give the young goblin a fair chance and yet neglecting to look in the mirror throughout the process.

By the time they were done and demanded she "take a gander at herself," she hardly recognized her face in the mirror. Oh, but if only she could keep these lovely goblins as they had done tremendous work. Her skin appeared satiny and flawless, delicate sweeps of black along her lashes elongating her jade-hued eyes and emphasizing the dark, full fringe of lashes on either eye. It was only when one perfectly shaped and filled brow arched in shock that she realized she truly was looking at her own reflection. "Well?" Neff asked impatiently. "What do you think, Yer Ladyship?"

"You are both incredible," Andie said with obvious shock, causing the two to hoot and holler with victory. "Thank you…"

"You are most welcome," Rem chirped. "Oh, but look at the time!"

"Oh, yes, we must get you into your dress! The guests are already arriving!" Neff fretted, hobbling over to the box on the bed with Rem close behind.

Andie rose and moved toward the window, peering out to see the procession of all the Labyrinth's creatures—thankfully not a Firey in sight!—filtering into the entrance and assumably being led toward the long-prepared ballroom. When she leaned away from the window, a savory, mouth-watering scent hit her nose. "What is that smell?" she wondered in amazement.

"Oh, no, you don't, we laced you loosely, but not that loosely!" Neff muttered and Andie groaned at the thought of not indulging in any of the food downstairs. Then again, she supposed she might be too nervous about getting anything on the dress and about the soiree in general. She'd never been to anything remotely close to this before. Even her high school prom; she'd walked in sporting a short emerald dress, black Chucks, and a pixie cut, cat-eye liner on point. Had she dressed up for that, it was still leagues away from this. This was the stuff of fairytales, after all.

At their persistence, Andie moved over to where they had collapsed the dress on the floor, waiting until she stepped into it and carefully crouched down. The goblins slid the dress up over her and Andie held the bodice in place while Neff and Rem made short work of lacing the back. Rem grinned brightly as Andie slowly rose to her feet, glancing witheringly toward the heels set up on the floor. "Must I wear them?" she asked.

"I'm afraid so, Your Ladyship," Neff chuckled.

Andie wrinkled her nose and lifted her skirts to maneuver herself onto the awful things. Like everything else she wore, they were a perfect fit and yet still heinous simply because they were heels. They looked lovely, but oh, her feet and back would kill her for it later.

There was a knock at the door and Neff and Rem tittered excitedly, Rem hurrying to open the door. Andie had expected Jareth perhaps, but instead, she was greeted by Hoggle and Sir Didymus, both dressed for the occasion. Even Ambrosius wore a ruffle. "Oh, my lady!" Didymus gasped in awe.

"You…," Hoggle blushed a beet red. "You clean up good."

Andie smirked. "Thank you. So do you all! Very debonair, if I do say so myself."

The boys preened under her compliments and escorted her from the room, Neff and Rem sending them all off with praise and well wishes, at least until Neff found it necessary to remind Andie that the dining hall was off-limits until the ball's end. Her warnings just made Andie want to rebel even more.

The group moved to take their place at the end of the procession, which was nearing its end. She already hated walking in the damning heels and tried to ignore them as well as she could and simply focus on moving forward with poise and grace. They chatted while each individual or group was announced formally at the doorway to the ballroom, at least until they were the next to be seen.

After a pair of green, fuzzy-looking creatures were let through, Andie took a slow breath and moved up with Hoggle and Didymus, both standing on either side of her and insisting on leading her in—which consisted of hand-holding rather than arm-linking for height differences, even while Didymus sat atop Ambrosius. The goblins at the door looked them over and the one on the right cleared his throat before making their announcement. "Hoggle, the castle groundskeeper; Sir Didymus and Ambrosius, guardscreatures of the Bog of Eternal Stench; Lady Cassandra of the Aboveground." Afterward, the goblin let the long scroll wind back into place, seeming relieved that he was through with his duties.

The room had fallen quiet at their arrival and Andie felt eyes on her throughout the assembled crowd. At first, she felt uncomfortable, but determined not to let herself be cowed by the hoards of curious eyes, she lifted her chin an increment and moved forward with her companions. She relaxed only when she began to see familiar faces: some of the goblins of yesterday including the ones who had become so involved in the game she'd introduced to them all, the Wiseman and his Hat, Ludo and Leona with what appeared to be two other sphinxes, and then, at last Jareth, whose eyes were already upon her without indication of deviating any time soon.

In the hush of the room, only his footsteps reached her ears and she was uncertain whether it was a true quiet which had fallen over the guests or if all her senses had quite suddenly focused upon him, alone. He wore black breeches and newly polished black boots, a snow-white poet's shirt draping over his torso beneath an intricate vest the same deep blue as her dress with golden fastenings and trim. His usual eye makeup seemed more dramatic and he seemed to radiate an unnamable aura of ethereal magic, his eyes alight and absolutely, dauntlessly alive. While she admired him, he had moved to stand before her, a smug smile curving his lips as he flourished a bow and took her hands, both of which had been released by her friends within the last moment. Raising them to his lips, the Goblin King kissed her gloves and then straightened, tucking her hand gently in the crook of his arm and backing away to lead her further into the ballroom, to the dance floor.

He stopped at its center and Andie was glad he was so distracting because she would have been otherwise mortified at being in the middle of everything like this. Jareth never took his eyes off her, simply repositioned her left hand to his shoulder and his to her waist, keeping her right and beginning the first steps of the waltz they'd practiced just hours ago. The moment he began to move, music began to play and, vaguely, Andie recognized the sound as that of the musicians they had met at the black lake who had helped Jareth with his song to soothe the Netherbeast to sleep. A new sound rose with the instruments after a mystical introduction, a sweet soprano voice singing along.

Andie followed along with Jareth's movements, surprising herself, and soon the dance floor was filled with others grouping to dance as well. A calm from the music spread throughout the ballroom and Andie felt the effects on her frame, the tension leaving and replaced with a fluidity that only took their dance to a higher place.

"You look stunning," Jareth told her softly as they turned in rhythm with the slowly building symphony.

She blushed. "As do you." Andie was not sure what caused him to grin—whether it was her compliment or her flushed face—but she was glad to see it.

The night progressed and unfolded in good company and shimmering splendor, the guests moving freely about the castle after the dances had taken place and the musicians had all retired for the evening to enjoy the festivities. Andie had remained in the ballroom after Jareth disappeared for some time, quite inexplicably. She had happened upon the Wiseman and had greeted him, though it was very short-lived small talk before he asked her precisely what she had been avoiding the thought of all evening and for most of the past week.

"Have you uncovered how you might return home, child?" the Wiseman asked amiably.

Andie paused heavily. "I have not."

He arched a furry brow her way. "You sound as though you have been thinking of other things…"

His hat took that moment to squawk, "That is the understatement of the century!"

"Be quiet!" the Wiseman ordered haughtily before sipping at a goblet of wine he held.

Andie smirked halfheartedly. "To tell you the truth… I have been."

"And to what conclusion have you arrived?" She started to speak, but could not find the words. "Speak from your heart, child."

"My heart?" she repeated with a half-laugh that was far from humored. "My heart aches for my mother. For knowing that despite time being able to be ordered and reordered that there will still be some dimension of it in which I am not there for her. It kills me to know that and it kills me because it will be for my own selfish reasons. The longer I stay, the closer that looms."

The Wiseman was quiet, absorbing her words. "Then you do not want to stay," he reasoned from her rationalization, large eyes watching her to be certain he was reading that correctly.

Andie sighed, feeling her throat constrict as she fought tears she'd been pushing away for days at a time. "I want to stay. And yet my family needs me and I want to be with them, too, but…" She paused and looked down toward her hands, realization dawning like a solid sting in her chest. "…But I need him."

The Wiseman's brow creased and he was silent for a time before telling her gently, "Sometimes to need is to let go."

Andie gave him a startled look, feeling the inevitable devastation begin to encroach. "Are you telling me to leave?" she asked softly.

"I give you only the wisdom to arrive where you must go," he said softly.

A tear slid down her cheek as she looked around for Jareth. "I… I'm not sure I can tell him goodbye… I want to, but I don't know if I can…"

"I am sure the King will understand," he assured her as she fought back more tears. "But if you see fit, you may seek him out."

Andie smiled sadly. "One look from him will change my mind, I know it will. And…," she sighed miserably. "And my family needs me. I should go before I have time to talk myself out of it."

The Wiseman nodded once. "Then be careful, child. If that is what you must do."

Andie nodded tightly and looked around one more hopeless time for Jareth before weaving through the crowd to make it to the entryway, going all the way up to her room and retrieving her belongings and the backpack before working her way back down and slipping out the side door of the ballroom, which led from the ballroom out to the gardens. Her very core hurt from the absence of the man she'd come to realize she loved, from not being able to see him one last time before she left. The party commenced without her, not noticing her absence for quite some time. Only the Wiseman watched her go, his hat abnormally silent and still.

She had at first convinced herself that she was only going outside for some air and, while the cool night did revive her and clear her head, she looked toward the sky and recognized it as not her own and knew she could not turn back. And before she could think straight and logically tear the problem apart as she normally would have to get to the bare bones, she was running.

Deep down, she knew that wouldn't work. She'd done that already, many times, and to no avail. She knew her duty was to her family, to her ailing mother, to her future career, to her world and yet she wanted so much to be a part of his world, too. She would never come to terms with either side because she wanted both and she had told herself all along that she had to do what was right.

Andie ran all the way to the opening of the Labyrinth on the far side of the garden, holding up her skirts so she could better move, dreading the thought of running into Jareth out here and looking just as she was: a runaway. While he may have understood her reasons, she could just see the look on his face—his features drawn and expressionless while his eyes held the truth. He was a spectacular player of indifference, however, she had gained the ability to see through that in her time with him.

She took a deep breath, not allowing herself to look back, and plunged back into the winding maze, knowing it would all be so different now that it was whole again, but hoping that bettered her chances. Yet, in the darkness and her uncertainty, she soon found it unbearably difficult to navigate and she felt like an utter fool for even attempting it. Time was moving again, she could very well die out there this time if she got well and truly lost enough to starve. And she couldn't quite blame Jareth if he allowed that to happen, given the betrayal he would likely feel once he found that she was gone.

High up on the balcony above the gardens, the Wiseman stepped out into the night air, much more morose than anyone had ever seen him. Once he was alone and separated from the party, a faint shimmer washed over him and the illusion was dropped, Jareth revealing himself to the dark. His somber gaze immediately fastened upon the fiery young woman moving through the maze, the one he had urged against both their desires to go back home.

"Silly girl, you are going the wrong way," he mumbled under his breath as he watched her progress, wincing faintly when she stumbled out of her shoe and nearly turned her ankle. Jareth sighed, glancing toward the sky and whispering, "Always forcing me to eat my words…," before he raised one gloved hand to the heavens.

There was no more than a faint glitter in the sky at first, but soon one of the starry clusters swirled freely from its fixed position in the sky, soaring down into the lush plant life below before swiftly entering the Labyrinth after Andie, catching up to light her way.

Andie had just forgone her shoes to avoid further injury, running barefoot through the pathways and adjusting the backpack strap over her bare shoulder. Her dress rustled with every movement in the quiet and she drew a shuddering breath of despair just as the maze suddenly illuminated starkly around her. She winced at the intense light, but as her eyes adjusted, she saw that perhaps a hundred stars of varying sizes seemed to be swirling around her, constantly in motion. Once she acknowledged them, they began to swerve into the path leading to the left, flowing like water in a stream.

She stared at them and, in a flash of an epiphany, whirled to look up at the balcony, but it was empty and her heart fell, even though it was likely better this way. Though she told herself it certainly wasn't him aiding her, she knew in her heart that it was and it only broke her further.

When the remaining stars began impatiently dancing around her, Andie broke back into her run, following the body of starlight through winding twists and turns, trusting it and letting it guide her to wherever it was she needed to go. After what felt like a solid hour of quick turns she might have missed and secret passageways she would have most definitely missed, Andie slowed, seeing the end in sight. She walked along, bathed in the light of the celestial bodies that had piloted her through the Labyrinth, and looked up at the towering gate she'd never seen before, the official gateway to the Labyrinth.

She moved forward and pressed against the doors, which swung open in unison to reveal a stretch of barren wasteland, dead shrubs twisting up from the dry earth ahead. Andie looked toward the ground and, just a few steps away, saw a void. It was smaller and a more uniform circle than those she remembered from the Labyrinth. If she could properly recall, it looked much more like the one that had swallowed her up in the first place. She wondered how long it had been there, waiting.

Andie looked over her shoulder toward the stars clustered still within the frame of the Labyrinth's path, swerving around one another in a timeless, incomprehensible pattern. "Thank you," she said softly, though she doubted that they would understand.

Something clicked in their systems, as immediately after her words of gratitude, they shot back into the sky, spinning end over end until they were reunited with their brothers and sisters, a perfect piece of mystery in the alternate universe she had come to know. She watched them a moment longer before looking to the void, knowing without being told that it would take her home.

Swallowing hard, Andie closed her eyes and put every ounce of her faith into her next steps, the last of which sent her through the void and into the darkness. She would remember falling, air rushing past her with the strength of the maelstrom that had preceded the healing of the world she left behind, and she would remember how the weight in her chest solidified, the most real of anything she had experienced in this impossible place.

With the same violent fall with which she entered the Labyrinth, she fell back into her apartment seconds after stepping into the void; she knew from the vague "afterrain" smell dispersing from her wax burner. Andie looked up and first saw the glowing time on her digital clock, which read 12:02am and, in the corner, the date of the day she'd fallen through. She'd lost two minutes. Two weeks of lessons and experiences in another land cost her two minutes of her night home.

At first, she was prepared to console herself with the narrative of this all being a dream and she'd simply fallen out of bed, but when she looked down, she found that impossible. She still had the dress on, the backpack still on her shoulders, and her bare feet were dirty and blistered from running.

With this knowledge, the knowledge that it had all been so very real as she'd known all along, the tears finally escaped her, and she remained on the floor as she wept for the future she had given up.

Next chapter: Chapter 19, "The Right Words"

#labyrinth #labyrinth fanfiction #labyrinth fanfic #jareth x oc #jareth the goblin king #jareth #slow burn #angst with a happy ending #the labyrinth #romance fanfiction

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holdmecloser-gandydancer · 2 years ago

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@taznovembercelebration joking or serious

[[this is the same universe as this ficlet !!]]

Lup sits on the floor of her kitchen. Her hands shake as she holds her head and she feels a terrible, acrid creeping in the back of her throat.

She has to keep working. She has to keep moving. Move or die, like a shark.

Of course, for sharks, their locomotion only impacts their survival and not the survival of the love of their life.

Nope. No, Lup, can't get morbid.

"You fucking idiot," she croaks out to nobody but herself.

Sharks are often caught in the siren call of death; when a whale dies, sharks flank the corpse and rip it to shreds.

Lup feels called to the study—Barry’s study, to be more precise—though it's not for feeding time. Rather, she almost feels the need to protect him. What she can of him, at least.

Pulling herself up off the floor, she feels like all the warmth has been sucked from the apartment.

She tries to think back to all he's told her about situations like this, the theoretical ones he'd studied in school. He had always gushed about some great strides they were making in the field and—

Stop. Stop.

No speaking about him in past tense.

Because it's fine. He will be fine.

She racks her brain trying to remember everything he's gushed about to her, about these ressurectionists he's mentioned.

What she needs is a task. This is just the task to take her mind off of this brief hiccup that'll end up being fine. Completely fine.

She goes down the hallway and into the study; bookshelves still sagging under the weight of every book she and Barry have ever read. Everything from celebrity self-help books they've gotten during gift exchanges to old textbooks from university courses to scary looking leather-bound tomes.

The room still smells like ozone. A large fractal shape spiderwebs all over the ceiling.

She crouches beside the bookshelf closest to the door and begins scanning the spines for something that could help.

Out of the corner of her eye, over by Barry’s desk, she sees a little pulse of red. She figures it's just his cantankerous computer monitor that's still desperately holding onto its last threads of life. She has a thick mystery novel in her hands, searching for other papers jammed inside, a habit Barry’s had as long as Lup has known him, when she sees the pulse again.

She sets the book down and goes to investigate. Couldn't hurt to check his computer anyway. There's a thin layer of what feels like soot on the keyboard. She tries to brush some of it away though it seems like a futile task. Her efforts do wind up waking the monitor, however.

She squints at the screen, white and green and red and blue text on a black background. The words swim across the screen, forum posts on here look all but incomprehensible. She pulls out the desk chair that's more exposed foam than fake leather and sits down, intent on cracking this.

--------

"You're joking," Taako says from his place on Lup’s couch. She's called the whole family over for an emergency meeting with no elaboration.

"Dead serious," she says firmly, hands clasped together behind her back.

"Lup, listen. It's not that we don't believe you it's just that—" Lucretia begins softly.

"What I'm hearing is that you don't believe me."

"Grief can be a hard thing. Sometimes we're all just looking for that wish fulfillment," Davenport offers.

Lups shakes her head firmly. "No. Listen, I'm explaining it about as well as I can. I've spent the better part of today parsing through this freaky forum. It's real."

"Even if it is real, it's illegal as shit," Merle says with a shrug.

"So are 90% of the plants in your greenhouse," Magnus retorts. He looks at Lup and nods. "I believe you."

Taako rolls his eyes. "I mean obviously I do, too. We all do. Or we will, I guess."

"What's the plan?" Lucretia asks.

Lup brings her hands in front of her and holds up a small jar with what looks like a clump of fishing line in it. "This is Barry. We have to take a road trip to the Sword Coast to meet up with this weird guy from the internet so he can rebind Barry’s soul, whip him up a body, and then we can bring him back."

Davenport nods. "Someone grab me a map. Let's plan this route."

#rip (reeses in pieces)#reese writes #taznc #taz november celebration #i should write more of this #resurrection roadtrip #blupjeans

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egcdeath · 4 years ago

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second chances

pairing: softdark!steve rogers x reader

summary: you wake up on the side of the road with no memories, no possessions, and no place to go. luckily, an attractive stranger arrives just in time to help you out.

word count: 4.6k

warnings: there are some soft moments, but this is ultimately a dark fic!!! alluding to kidnapping, deceit, mention of knife, drugging, abuse (mostly mental/emotional, but implied physical), amnesia, brief alcohol mention, nightmares, mention of bodily harm, bed sharing **if i’m missing any warnings, let me know

author’s note: this is my first dark fic without a dark reader, so please be nice! it took me nearly a whole month to get it where i want it to be (i’m a slow writer, i know) but i’m actually pretty proud of this.

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

After what seemed like years of waiting, the opportunity finally lent itself, a small pocket knife sat right in your peripheral view. A dangerous mixture of adrenaline and impulse filled you, not even granting you the time to think before you were clumsily extending your arm, and wielding the knife.

The blade popped out, and you held it with a shaky hand in front of your captor.

“Really?” he scoffed, “you’re gonna kill me.”

There was no attempt on his part to stop you, in fact, he smiled and leaned back slightly.

Your whole body trembled at this point, you could barely form words, let alone move. But this was your chance.

“So do it, Y/N. Kill me,” his voice steadily rose as he approached you, long legs making their way across the room.

Before you knew it, he was standing in front of you, hand approaching your own. He wrapped it around your wrist and gripped down on you like a snake, causing you to emit a tiny yelp.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked, voice steady as your hands trembled around the grip.

“Exactly. You’re still as fucking pathetic as you were the day I met you,” a slap stung your left cheek, a mark that was sure to be there for the days following.

The knife clattered as it hit the linoleum floor, and you followed its path, crumbling on the floor and breaking into tear-less sobs.

“Remember this moment, sweetheart. You’ll never get a chance like this again,” he swooped up the knife before walking away from you, leaving a broken woman in his wake.

——

You went from experiencing nothing to everything all at once. Your brain seemed to be attempting to escape your head as it pressed against your eyes, and you struggled to open them, lashes feeling like they were glued together. Rain poured down on your head, and you concluded that it had been pouring on you for a while, as you were completely soaked to the bone.

As you looked at yourself and your body, a curled up and bruised mess on the side of the road, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly happened to you, or at all. You weren’t even sure that you had memories apart from the ones that were processing in that exact moment. It was as if you’d exited the womb for a second time, clueless to where you were, who you are, or how you got there.

You shivered as you pulled yourself to your feet, weak ankles shaking in glittery heels and body trembling in a half-torn dress. Wherever you came from couldn’t have been good.

You slipped off the shoes and held them in your hands as you walked down the side of the deserted road, bare feet sloshing in mud as you did so. You didn’t have an idea where you were, or where the nearest sign of life was. You were tempted to walk on the soaked, petrichor scented road, but you knew that that wasn’t your best idea.

You truly had no good options. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No one to save you. You wanted to collapse back onto the ground, give into your screaming body that was becoming more and more tired by the moment. Hot tears began to slip down your face, contrasting the cold of the raindrops falling onto your body.

All hope was lost, you’d die any time now, and that would just be it. You looked up at the overcast sky and screamed at it, mentally begging for someone, anyone, to help. That you’d forever be grateful to god, or the universe, or whatever it was that was out there that put you in the situation you were in.

You screamed and sobbed until your throat was raw, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to produce any more sound, sitting down onto the damp ground and wishing for your inevitable death to be a swift and painless one.

Yet, your pity party was crashed just moments later by a beaming red light and the soft hum of a motor coming down the road. This was your one chance. Who knew when the next time you’d see a sign of human life was?

You jumped to your feet and waved your hands like a madwoman, trying to catch the attention of the male behind the driver's seat. He began to come to a stop, pulling over a bit to see you better.

His face was angelic, a strong jaw and soft eyes that looked like they had seen more than the average person. When he spoke, you felt heaven become drowsy with harmony. Or maybe you were just really tired. Regardless, your pleas to a higher power had proved fruitful, as your knight and shining armor had just pulled up beside you to save the day.

He rolled a window down, and you got closer to the door.

“Need a ride, ma’am?” he called.

You simply nodded and approached the vehicle, opening the door hesitantly. You sat down on the seat, and jumped a bit when you felt heat radiating onto the back of your thighs.

“I’m Steve. You?”

You chuckled awkwardly, “that’s a great question that I wish I could answer. It’s actually kind of a long story. Well, I assume it’s long since I can’t remember any of it. But maybe I will later. Nice to meet you anyway, Steve.”

He nodded understandingly, completely unfazed by your lack of name. Maybe he had prior experience with hitchhikers, as he was approaching this situation with a nearly suspicious calmness. “Well… where’re you heading?” the man asked, looking over at you.

“I, uh, I have no idea,” you said raspily, throat still sore from your previous screaming.

The blonde’s lip quirked at this, as if he were holding back a much bigger smile, “that’s fine. I’m heading a few towns away, but I was thinking of stopping and getting some breakfast. You interested in that?”

You shrugged, becoming slightly uncomfortable in the quickly dampening seat. Steve glanced over at you after putting the car in drive, and noticed your discomfort from your prior stay in the rain.

“We can stop by a bathroom first. I’ve got some extra clothes with me in the back,” he suggested. You nodded quietly, looking at the vast, and empty road ahead.

----

You sat in a diner booth dressed in a thick jacket and comfortable sweatpants that oddly enough, seemed to be exactly your size. Steve approached the table with an extra plate of fries, and set it gently in front of you.

“So you don’t remember anything?” he asked, stealing a fry before sitting down across from you.

You shook your head, bringing a salty fry to your mouth, “I swear I just woke up there. No memories, no nothing, no place to go. I mean, I was gonna die out there if you didn’t get me.”

Steve scoffed a bit at this, “that’s not true. I’m sure someone would’ve helped eventually.”

“Maybe. But I’m glad that it was you,” you looked up at him, and the fondness he was looking at you with was nearly suffocating.

Steve paused for a moment, mulling over his next words as if he was looking for the exact right thing to say.

“Would you like to stay with me? I mean, I know we just met each other, but I just have this feeling. Like I was meant to find you. Besides, it doesn’t seem like you have anywhere else to go.”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you excused after a moment, popping out of the both and heading towards the ladies room.

You handled your business, and stared at yourself in the mirror as you washed your hands. Makeup ran down your face, and it almost appeared that you were melting. Who would pick someone up in such a state? You had to question this Steve guy’s character a little bit. You couldn’t remember the exact phrase, but it couldn’t be smart to get into a car with a stranger. Especially a stranger offering to take you to some secret location with them. After all, he could be a murderer, a kidnapper, or a rapist. You would be none the wiser.

But he fed you, clothed you, and offered you a form of shelter. He couldn’t be too ill intentioned if he was willing to go out of his way to help, right? Maybe he just wanted to keep you off the streets, and that was why he was willing to take you to wherever it was that he was going.

Your stomach turned the longer you watched yourself, the longer you thought. Perhaps your intuition found that something was off. But who even knew if you could trust your intuition, after all, you were basically a day old, and you didn’t seem to have any other option.

——

You ended up going back out into the diner and accepting Steve’s offer. You didn’t really have much of a choice, and he wasn’t exactly a bad one.

Steve was quiet for the majority of your trip, only speaking when he noticed that you’d moved your sights from the window over to him. He didn’t seem to be a fan of the way you were studying him, but for some reason your eyes kept finding him.

Hours had passed in the day, and night was quickly approaching. You dozed as you watched the starry night from the passenger window. Your eyes were becoming heavier by the moment, hours worth of watching flat landscape, combined with the complexity of your day finally catching up to you.

——

Cold. You felt cold. The floor was cold. The blood running through your veins was cold. Your brain was cold and freezing, hindering you from properly processing what was going on in front of you.

A searing pain rolled through your body as you tumbled down the stairs, back into a room that was suffocatingly familiar.

“I should’ve never allowed you to leave. Ungrateful,” a faceless man followed you down the stairs and hovered over your now battered body. “I give you a home and you complain. I take care of you, giving you almost anything you could ever ask for. You complain. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position? With someone like me taking care of them?”

“You told me you loved me, you goddamn liar. I let you come upstairs, and you try to fucking kill me. I should kill you,” he seethed, leaning down over you.

But I won’t.

The words were unspoken, but familiar. A threat uttered to you before, usually followed with an ‘I’ll make your life a living hell instead.’

You were unable to speak, as if someone had ripped out your vocal cords. Suddenly the faceless man was reaching down and holding the bloody organs in his hands. Your blood ran cold once again.

“You can’t even fathom the hell I want to release on you right now,” he continued, chest puffing out with exaggerated, angered breaths. “But I’ll be the bigger man. Because I love you,” he dropped the cords on the ground beside you, and your eyes flicked over to the mutilated part of yourself. “Y/N, I need you to prove to me that you love me.”

You wanted to beg, to plead and tell the man whatever he needed to hear in order to release you, but you were completely powerless.

The man hoisted you up with ease, and you soundlessly whimpered. He carried you into a small, plain room and set you on the flat, stiff mattress on the floor.

“Come on, Sweetheart. You know I’m doing this for us.”

The faceless man kissed your forehead, and the feeling of dread overtook you.

——

You awoke with a gasp, clawing at your own neck to make sure that your vocal cords were still intact.

“You alright?” Steve asked, glancing over at you. “Should I pull over?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you whispered.

“Take some deep breaths for me, okay?” he advised, setting a reassuring hand on top of yours. “We’ll be at the hotel any minute now.”

——

Your nerves were absolutely fried by the nightmare. Your hands shook like leaves in the wind while you stood next to Steve as he checked you into your hotel room.

“How’re you doing?” he asked in the elevator, setting his large hand on top of yours once again. The gesture was calming, even if you felt a slight undermining feeling of something unsettling.

“A little better. I probably just need to lay down somewhere comfortable.”

Steve nodded and squeezed your hand, “you’ve had a long day. You have first dibs on the shower. Maybe it’ll help you relax.”

The smile that Steve was giving you was comforting. You felt glad that he was the person to have picked you up.

The elevator made a little ding noise before the doors opened, and he guided you to your room.

You made a beeline to the shower, not even taking the time to be impressed with the size of the hotel room, the amenities, or the quality of it. You just wanted to shed your clothes and find at least a moment of peace.

You exited the bathroom after about a half an hour, and walked out into the suite in just a towel.

“Can I borrow some more clothes?” you glanced over at Steve, who was openly checking you out from the comfort of the bed.

Wait, the bed.

There were way too many things going on for you to be focused on the fact that there was just one bed. Maybe Steve would offer to sleep on the sofa.

“Yeah, that’s fine. My teammate left some clothes in that smaller blue suitcase. It’ll probably fit,” Steve paused for a few moments as you found the aforementioned suitcase and looked for something comfortable that you could actually sleep in.

“Who did that to you?” he asked, gesturing at your bruised legs.

“I don’t… I don’t know. It’s all so blurry,” you sighed, settling on a fresh pair of sweatpants and a thin t-shirt. “I’ll be right back.”

You changed quickly in the residually steamy bathroom, and sat down at the foot of the bed.

“Do we need to have a fistfight over who gets to sleep in the bed?” Steve joked and you shook your head.

“I can sleep on the sofa, if you want.”

“No way. You deserve something comfortable,” he got out of bed, and approached the bathroom to take his own shower. “Get nice and cozy, friend. You deserve it.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, and you moved up to the top of the bed, slipping under the covers and sighing aloud from relief. Your body was finally having a chance to relax, and the hotel bed was surprisingly comfortable.

By the time Steve returned from the shower, you were already half asleep, and very unaware of your surroundings.

As you fell out of consciousness, you had blurry visions of confinement, punishments, and pain. You once again woke up with a gasp, but this time Steve was standing over you.

“Deep breaths, okay? I saw you thrashing and mumbling something to yourself. I think you were having a bad dream.”

You nodded and panted, trying to catch your breath and slow down your hummingbird heart rate.

“You’re safe, I promise.”

“Can you stay with me?” you stammered out.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve got into bed beside you, and rubbed your back as you curled into a fetal position, “just try to relax, okay? There isn’t anything to fear when I’m here with you.”

You nodded, clutching onto Steve’s genuine tone. Something about him just made you feel… safe, despite the possible red flags around him.

After Steve got into bed with you, you were finally able to fall into a dreamless and peaceful sleep.

——

You woke up to an empty and cold bed. You blinked a few times and looked around the room, eyes stopping on Steve as he watched you from the couch, eyes quickly flipping between yourself and the book in his hands in an effort to cover up his staring.

The whole ordeal made you feel slightly off, but the realization that you were essentially mooching off a stranger felt worse.

You hopped out of bed and anxiously paced towards the bathroom. “Shit, Steve,” you muttered. “I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this. I should probably leave.”

“Where else do you have to go?” Steve almost defensively questioned, frown deep on his face.

You took a deep sigh and shrugged, “I… don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to go,” he began, sounding unsure in his words, “stay. With me,” he stood up and walked over to you, grabbing the back of your arm softly. “You’re not taking advantage of me. If anything, you’re helping me. I get pretty lonely on these kinds of missions, so please, stay with me.”

You turned to look at Steve, the deep creases in his face at the thought of losing you. With just a glance, you knew that you couldn’t leave.

——

The next few days of your life had proved your theory. It was almost alarming how quickly Steve became your anchor in the midst of a new, overwhelming world.

The first thing that he did for you was tell you what your name was. As confused as you were to how exactly he figured it out, (he told you that he knew some weird tech guy. You were prepared to go with anything), you were grateful that Steve was able to help you out a piece of your old life back together.

He was oddly patient with you as you learned more and more about your surroundings. You were most impressed by the grocery store, and may or may not have spent hours inside of that food palace, spending much more of Steve’s money than was socially acceptable.

For the next few months, you stayed at a safe house with Steve, spending the majority of your time looking down at your reflection in the lake in the backyard, wondering if your memories could ever come back.

You’d grown closer with Steve in that time as well, he was really the only person that you’d gotten close with since you’d lost your memories. Now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t said more than three sentences to anyone else. By that measurement, your next closest friend was a gas station cashier.

In fact, you’d started dating Steve. Granted, you couldn’t completely wrap your mind around it all, despite the hours of rom-coms you’d watched while Steve was gone on missions. You just knew that you cared a lot about Steve. When he was around you, your heart fluttered. He was the only person you truly felt comfortable with. He protected you time after time, and voiced to you just how much he adored you.

It made you feel wanted, to know that despite all of the confusion, you still had a place in this world, even if the place was just Steve Rogers’ heart.

——

Steve arrived at the safe house late at night after nearly a week of being off on another mission. The bed creaked as he got into bed with you, and pressed up against your sleeping form.

“Steve, sometimes I have these really awful dreams. Mostly when you’re not with me,” you began out of the blue as his arms snaked around you. “It’s always this faceless man just… abusing me. And I can’t even do anything about it because I’m too weak. And I can’t say anything because he stole my vocal cords. It sounds so silly, because it’s all just a dream, but it all feels so real. I just... I need you to promise me that you’ll protect me no matter what. Especially against him.”

“Of course,” he whispered against the back of your head, “I promise that I’ll protect you from him. He’ll never even get the chance to let the thought cross his mind.”

“I love you, Steve,” you mumbled sleepily, “please never leave me again.”

He’d been waiting to hear those words.

——

Your fingers wrapped around a warm mug while Steve put the finishing touches on your breakfast. He’d decided to go all out that morning, with an impressive spread of food that would put most buffets to shame. For a moment, you questioned if you’d forgotten about some important holiday, or an anniversary.

Steve set a plate down in front of you, then pressed a soft peck to your forehead, “enjoy, sweetheart.”

You grinned softly down at the food, and at the affection, “what’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Just relieved to be back. I don’t like being away from you for too long,” he settled into the seat across from you, and took a sip of his own coffee.

“Mm, you sure? You’re not always this chipper post mission.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head just the slightest bit, “alright. You got me. I wanted to save it as a surprise, but I hate keeping secrets from you,” Steve paused.

“So… what’s the secret?” you pressed, bringing a forkful of food up to your mouth.

“I’m retiring.”

Your eyes widened as you heard the news, and you nearly choked, “are you really?”

Steve simply nodded, “I’m ready for the next chapter of my life with you.”

Your heart fluttered at the sweetness of his gesture, and the slightest hint of nerves. Why was Steve so willing to give up his entire livelihood for someone he knew for less than a year?

You felt bad for questioning his motives, considering that Steve had been nothing but good to you in the time that you knew him. If it wasn’t for him, you probably wouldn’t even be alive. He had proved himself to be an amazing, loving man, who had bent over backwards to keep you safe and comfortable. He trusted you, and it was time for you to do the same.

“I’ve been plotting this for a while, to be honest. You might think this is a little fast, but I even have a permanent place for us to stay.”

You couldn’t find it in you to be skeptical for much longer, your feelings of adoration for Steve overruling your hesitance to jump into something like that with him.

You smiled softly as Steve spoke, getting up and pacing over to where he was seated so you could give him a hug, “I.. yes, that’s fast, but it’s also kinda amazing,” you sighed softly, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “When are we leaving?”

“Tonight, if that’s alright with you. I was thinking that we could spend the day packing up and… celebrating,” he winked down at you, and you looked up to shake your head fondly.

“That sounds like a plan,” you gazed at him with adoration, and leaned up to press a soft peck to his lips that was lovingly reciprocated.

——

Music pounded against your eardrums as you ground against a handsome stranger, one you couldn’t see, but instinctively knew. The smell of sweat, liquor, and sex filled your nose, the rancid combination oddly comforting in a retrospective moment.

“We’re leaving!” A voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like years informed you. Your face broke into a wide grin when you heard her voice. “But it doesn’t look like you care!” she jeered. “Good luck!” your friend laughed, disappearing in the sea of people.

“You’re coming home with me, right?” he asked, a hot breath against your cheek.

You nodded. The words refused to come out.

“Good,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to your neck.

Out of the blue, you weren’t in the club, but in the small basement room from before, staring at nothing in particular while sat at the edge of your vanity’s seat.

“I’ve tried everything with you,” he commented, leaning against the doorway casually. You felt the need to apologize, to tell your captor that you didn’t mean to do what you did, that you loved him. Plead for him not to punish you. “After months of submission, I thought that we were finally getting somewhere. Why’d you have to throw it all away?”

Glancing up at the vanity, a woman with sunken eyes, a pained expression, and fading bruises looked back at you, just long enough for you to briefly become that messy, drunken woman at the club once again.

“I’ve tried everything with you. The easy way clearly didn’t work,” he continued, “you leave me with no other options, my love,” the man sighed, sitting down next to you casually. “I want you to know that I’m doing this for us. You know that nothing good ever comes easy, right?”

The syringe went into your arm like a hot knife through butter, and your muscles clenched as fire filled your body. You went to scream, but your throat was still out of commission. As you went down, your vision and thoughts began to blur before you couldn’t decipher one thing or another. The final noise you could make out was the distortedly slow rendition of It’s Been a Long, Long Time on the record player.

In an out-of-body moment, you watched as the man pulled your relaxed body down to the floor, cautiously pulling the clothes off of you and making you cringe internally at the sight of yourself in such a state. He left your body alone for a moment as he looked through the negligible amount of clothing in your closet, grabbing the same dress from the night at the club and pulling it on your limp figure.

It was torn and messy, not unlike the state it was in when you found yourself conscious. The faceless man muttered something unintelligible to himself before hoisting you up bridal style and taking your body out to the car.

You watched in terror as this all played out, your slack face looking disturbingly at peace compared to how you’d appeared before. In fact, even in your ghastly state, you felt at peace.

That peace quickly came to an end as you watched yourself get ditched on the side of the road, and as your body slowly began to twitch back to consciousness, your dream began to fade away.

——

You dragged your suitcase up through the garage, grateful to be at your final destination with the man you’d fallen in love with. You hoped that after moving in, the dreams might finally stop. After all, your dream in the car felt somewhat final. You were trying your best to be as positive as you could manage in such a strange situation, and from the outside, you had to admit that the house was gorgeous.

Stepping inside felt like the worst case of deja vu you’d ever experienced, as if your memories were repairing themself with every millisecond you were in the home, gazing at furniture you hadn’t seen in months, and smelling faint scents that you’d forgotten existed. Feature by feature, the puzzle pieces of the faceless man came together.

The longer you observed, the worse the feeling became. Waves of grief, fear, and pain were rolling over you again and again until you were completely drowning on it. The realization hit you with a ton of bricks: this was the house from your dreams.

Steve came up behind you, snapping you out of your panicked trance. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and squeezed you close to him.

“Ready for the first day of the rest of your life?”

#dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction #dark fanfiction #chris evans x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers angst #captain america x you #soft!dark steve rogers x reader #softdark!steve rogers x reader

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sacredsorceress · 4 years ago

Text

Secrets (Five) || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: as time goes on at the compound, you begin to come to terms with your new abilities and your relationship with your husband, bucky

a/n: i'm so sorry for the delay, but i hope you enjoy!!

word count: 2.5k

warnings: pregnancy if you squint

Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four

masterlist || request || taglist

"You might have to get a matching set of earrings, but I don’t think it’s too shabby.” Nat said, leaning back in her seat.

Playing with the newly gifted bracelet on your wrist, you chuckled.

“I guess it could be worse.” You joked. “And this is supposed to stop me from... you know... turning the whole room to ice?”

“Not stop-” Bruce corrected you. “Control. We’re never going to be able to... reverse... what happened, but at least this will help you control it.”

Nodding your head along with what he was saying, your eyes strayed from your wrist to your husband standing against the far wall of the lab, his arms crossed and eyes focused on you.

The two of you hadn’t spoken to each other since the first day you had woken up from being captured and he had held you in his arms. You were still struggling with coming to terms with who your husband was and even who you were. Knowing you needed your space, he had respected your wishes, keeping a painful distance from you for the past three days since you had woken up in the icy room of the Compound.

His eyes snapping away from yours, they landed on an article of clothing laying on one of the countertops in the lab.

“What’s that?” He asked, speaking up for the first time that day.

You, Bruce, Nat and Sam glanced at one another before your eyes landed on the suit on the table. Crossing your arms, you focused your attention at the ground.

“A suit.” Bruce clarified.

“Yeah, no shit.” Bucky said, picking up the cloth. “For who?”

“For me.” You said, speaking up, still not meeting your husband’s eyes.

An awkward silence hung in the room for a brief moment after your confession, before Bucky found his voice again.

“Can I talk to you outside?” He asked, pushing open the doors of the lab.

Nodding, you said nothing before following close behind your husband into the hallway of the Compound. When situated outside, you looked up at him.

“What?” You asked.

“What?” He repeated. “Don’t ‘what’ me, Y/n. Since when did you start having them make you a suit? I thought once this was all over you wanted to go home.”

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms.

“I never said that.” You said. “You just assumed that. I mean, what do you want me to do, Buck? I have abilities that other people don’t have. I can’t just go home after this and pretend like this isn’t a part of me anymore- like this never happened. I have these abilities and I should use them for good. I have to. You don't have to worry about me. I made this choice for myself.”

Staring at the resolve written all over your face, Bucky laced his fingers into his hair, tugging the short strands.

He understood what you were saying. He understood that you felt a responsibility to do good, but he thought of himself too- how he fell into the position he was in now.

He didn’t make the choice to be an Avenger. The choice had been made for him the moment he fell from that train and was taken into the hands of Hydra. He wanted better for you than a life you hadn’t chosen. He wanted better for you than a life where you were constantly risking your life and wondering if you would live to see another day.

He wanted more for himself than losing the love of his life because of a sense of duty.

“You don’t choose to go into stuff like this, Y/n.” Bucky said, unlacing his fingers from his hair and throwing his arms in the air. “You’re forced. You can still get out of this, doll. Don’t stay because you feel like you have to- you don’t owe anybody anything. You have the choice to go home and forget about all this and that’s what most people like me wish for.”

“Fine, you know what?” You said, throwing your hands up in the air. “You’re right. I don’t have a choice. I was forced into this shit because I didn’t know who I married and some guy tried to kill me because of it. Don’t stand there and act like you know what’s good for me when you’re the whole reason I’m in this mess.”

Slipping the bracelet off of your wrist, you held it between your fingers and watched as the floor below you began to turn to ice at your feet and frost started to coat the bracelet in your hand.

“Look at this, Buck.” You said, waving the bracelet. “Look at this! You think I can just go home and pretend like I wouldn’t turn you into a fucking popsicle if this was off for more than two minutes? I can’t pretend like this isn’t happening to me and if I have the chance to do something good with it then I will.”

Watching Bucky’s eyes soften as he stared at you, you slipped the bracelet back onto your wrist, the ice melting away with it. Shaking his head, you watched as the angry demeanor that he had been portraying seconds ago faded away as his shoulders relaxed and his hands went still at his sides.

“I just want what’s best for you.”

The way his voice cracked as the words slipped out of his mouth and he could barely meet your eyes made your heart tug in your chest. You knew he didn’t mean you any harm. You knew even after everything that he was just looking out for you, but you also knew that he had a clouded sense of what was right and wrong for you.

Relaxing your shoulders, you slowly walked over to your husband, resting your hand on his bicep.

“I know that, Buck.” You said softly, urging him to meet your eyes. “But when are you going to realize that you don’t know what that is?”

Looking into the room through the window of the door, you fiddled with the bracelet on your wrist, all the thoughts of what could go wrong running through your mind. Feeling the cold touch of vibranium wrap around your wrist, you stopped your fidgeting.

“Stop worrying, Y/n.” Bucky said from beside you. “Everything is gonna be fine.”

“What? I’m not worried.” You lied.

“You’re joking, right?” He asked, a hint of a smile gracing his face and what you would even call a chuckle slipping from his mouth. “At our wedding you twisted your engagement ring the whole time and remember when you took those pregnancy tests for Grant? You spent the whole time messing with that stupid bracelet on your wrist I was worried your skin was gonna turn red. Even that little- God what is it called? That thing Becca made for Mother’s Day last year?”

“Are you talking about that macaroni necklace?” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes!” Bucky exclaimed, snapping his fingers when you finally said the name. “That thing. You were messing with that thing so much that when you saw me hit my head on the cabinet door you snapped the pasta right in your hand.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about.

Your kitchen sink had stopped working properly that day and rather than call an actual plumber, your husband had insisted that he knew what he was doing and he would be able to fix it just fine. You watched as he worked, his head inside the cabinet as you leaned against the countertop fiddling with your newly gifted necklace from your daughter around your neck.

When water began to shoot out of the pipe, your husband cursing as water blasted his face, he attempted to pull away, knocking his head on the doorframe on the way out. As soon as you heard his shout, you felt the piece of macaroni shatter in your fist as you squeezed it tightly.

“Oh God, Buck are you okay?” You asked.

“God damn it!” He cursed again. “This hurts like shit.”

“Are you bleeding?” You asked, now standing in the puddle of water that coated the floor.

Pulling his hand away from the spot on his head that he had just hit and not seeing any blood, he shook his head.

Breathing a sigh of relief knowing that you wouldn’t have to be making a trip to the hospital that day, you took in the scene around you as the water continued to spray out of the pipe flooding the floor of your kitchen.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?” He asked looking up at you, you just now noticing the droplets of water coating his eyelashes and face.

“Can we call a plumber now?”

Looking around him and the puddle of water he was sitting in, he sighed, giving in.

“Yes, doll.”

“You know, it’s kind of funny thinking about it now.” You chuckled to yourself. “I was worried about you hitting your head on a cabinet and you’ve survived shit that only happens in movies.”

As Bucky laughed along with what you had just said, you stared up at your husband, catching the smile that had crossed his face for the first time in a week, noticing now the dark circles under his eyes and the scruff that hadn’t been shaved in days. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept since the last time you laid in bed beside him. You hadn’t checked the mirror yet, but you could guess that you didn’t look much different.

“I guess I am kind of worried.” You confessed.

“I know, but there’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”

For the first time since you had found out about his double life, you trusted in what he said.

When you nodded your head you felt as his hand brushed along your back, resting in the curvature of your spine. With his free hand, he slowly opened the door of the room, revealing your son and Sam on the other side.

Upon hearing the door open, your son’s head darted from the table he was sitting at towards where you were standing in the doorway. As soon as his eyes landed on you, you watched as he pushed himself away from the table, the metal chair he was sitting on scraping against the floor, practically toppling over as he hopped out of it and ran into your arms.

“Oof!” You grunted as his arms wrapped around you, his face digging into your stomach. “Miss me?”

He nodded against your stomach.

“You have a great kid.” Sam said, sitting in his spot at the table your son had just been at, coffee in hand. “Your daughter too, but this one gives me a kick.”

“Yeah?” You asked chuckling and as soon as you did your son pulled away from your embrace.

“I was so scared ‘cause I thought that those guys killed you, but then Dad came back with Captain America and Black Widow and then we came here and-” Your son began rambling, throwing his arms in the air wildly. “And then yesterday Captain America let me fly-”

“You took my son flying?” Bucky asked Sam beside you.

“Depends on what you consider flying.” Sam shrugged taking another sip of coffee.

“-and then I got to play with the shield and it’s so cool, Mom!” Grant finished saying, catching his breath.

“Wow buddy that sounds... dangerous.” You said eyeing Sam while ruffling your son’s hair. “But I’m glad you had fun!”

Just then you heard the door on the far side of the room open, Natasha emerging with your daughter in her arms. The first to move was Bucky making his way over to Natasha, taking his girl into his arms and bringing her over to you.

“Hi sleepy girl.” You cooed, reaching out for your daughter who had clearly just woken up from a nap.

When your hands met her skin, however, she quickly pulled way from your touch, curling more into her father’s chest.

“Your hands are too cold, Mommy.”

Practically feeling your heart shatter in your chest, you looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes just as downcast as yours. Pulling yourself away from your daughter, you clasped your hands together, biting back the pain that you felt from her rejection.

Noticing how you began backing away, Bucky frantically took his daughter’s hand in his vibranium one, staring down at her.

“C’mon your mom’s hands aren’t that cold, right?” He asked. “What about mine. You always say my metal one is cold, right bug?”

Resting her head against his chest, she shook her head.

“Buck, it’s fine. She's right.” You eased, backing away from everyone towards the door. “Does anybody else feel hot in here? It’s really hot. I think I’m just gonna take a breather outside-”

“Y/n-” Bucky called.

“It’s okay, I’m just gonna slip outside real quick.”You said, pulling on the handle of the door and swinging it open. “I’ll be right back.”

Before anybody could protest further, you stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind you. As you walked down the hallway, you were realizing for the first time that you didn’t recognize this place and you didn’t know where you were going. The more you thought about it, you barely recognized anything anymore and you didn’t know where you were going to go from where you were right now.

How did you end up here? How did you go from having some guy across the bar from you catch your eye to pacing down the hallways of the Avengers Compound, ice flowing through your veins? Frustrated, tired and confused, you felt a sob you didn’t even realize was there catch in your throat. Throwing your hand to your mouth, you leaned against the hallway wall, feeling tears begin to fog your vision.

“Y/n?” Bucky called, following you down the hallway. “You know Becca’s weird like that sometimes. She just woke up and was tired and cranky-”

“James, it’s fine.” You said.

After a brief pause, you heard his voice again, the tone more shaky than the last.

“Y/n...”

“Buck I said-”

“Y/n watch out!” He shouted.

Shooting away from the wall, your head darted to the big windows at the end of the hall, an unfamiliar object coming straight towards them from the outside.

Before you could even have time to discern what was happening, you watched as the glass of the large windows shattered across the hallway and heard them hit the floor, small bits nicking your skin along the way. You listened as loud beeps emitted from the device, growing quicker by the second.

Snapping your attention back to Bucky, both of your eyes wide, the last thing you recalled was the feeling of his hands securing the back of your head and your lower back as you fell to the ground.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes angst #bucky barnes series

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sakura-ame-no-ai · 3 years ago

Text

"bring a jacket next time."

pairings: tetsurou kuroo x reader

genre: fluff

notes: in japan, their way of checking the time is much different than america. they use 24-hour clocks. so if it was 1 in the afternoon, it would be counted as 13:00 for them.

a/n: it felt like some special holiday for me today and i don't know why... but seriously, how is my last kenma fanfic getting so much love istg- anyways, enjoy this fanfiction! i couldn't think of a good title for this on... :sob:

you sneeze suddenly when a gust of wind blows against your legs. it is indeed cold outside, but the shriveled leaves scraping their way down the street makes it seem much colder.

"why does it have to be so cold on a beautiful night like this..," you mutter to yourself, wrapping yourself with your arms.

too bad you didn't contemplate on bringing a jacket with you before bursting through the door with kuroo calling behind you.

well, now you feel a little guilty remembering that you lied to kuroo that you were going to buy some snacks at a nearby konbini. in reality, you just want to spend most of the night searching for some shooting stars.

you make a brief trip to the park, to which you find everything abandoned. that one big red slide that you always see children fighting to have their turn on is now empty and lonely. the swings seem motionless, too. however, they still rock back and forth every now and then when a chilly breeze rushes by. the seesaw is tilted down at an angle, making one side touch the ground full of woodchips.

you search for that favorite brown bench that has legs made out of an elegant black metal of some sort. soon, you discover it sitting under a big maple tree silently. it faces a metal fence that is as high as your waist, which a beautiful view of a huge lake stretches out on the other side of that fence. you don't hesitate to plop down and make yourself comfy on the bench, admiring the wavy reflection of the glittering stars and moon on the water's surface.

you could stare at such a view all day...

well, you would if you had brought a jacket though.

the cold night air wraps around you, trying to embrace you in a friendly way, but all it does is make you shiver and lift your feet onto the bench. you hug your knees and bury your mouth and nose inside your arms and knees, cursing to yourself about why you were stupid enough to not bring some warm clothing before setting out.

"just like i thought," a voice that sounds very familiar booms out from behind you, making you flinch.

you turn your head around to see a bedhair walk up to you with a cheeky grin.

"tetsu?!" you squeal, a little shocked that he actually know exactly where you were. "how did you know i'm here?"

kuroo is bundled up in a scarf and his nekoma jacket. he also has a thick piece of folded cloth draped over his right arm, making you assume that it's probably a blanket.

"i've never seen you that eager to do some shopping at the konbini, kitten," he replies, taking a seat next to you.

"you've always been a fan of sceneries outside, so that gave me an idea."

you give him a look of amazement, awed by the fact that he knows you very well like you're his child or something. however, it isn't long before kuroo bonks you on the head.

"you little rascal~ why didn't you bring a coat? it's like below 25 degrees celsius, and here you are, hanging out at the park, short-sleeved, and without a jacket or coat."

you whimper at his remarks.

"well, you know i was excited, tetsu..," you pout, puffing your cheeks out.

he chuckles, "nobody was blaming you, ok?"

kuroo takes a moment to peel off his nekoma jacket and place it over your shoulders. you gratefully hug it over your shoulders. other than the fact that it smells strongly of that lavender body soap you gave him, the jacket felt warm from kuroo's body heat, making you feel safe.

an unintentional smile slips onto your lips and you readjust your gaze to the sky.

"say... do you think there will be any shooting stars tonight?"

kuroo lifts a brow before fixing his gaze at the sky as well.

"oya? hunting for shooting stars?"

you nod eagerly, continuing to look up attentively.

"mhm! you told me that it's shooting star season!"

the branches of the maple tree above you sway gently, swishing its leaves together to create gentle rustling sounds.

kuroo smiles and points towards one of the stars.

"do you know how stars are formed, n/n?" he asks you, his finger directing your gaze towards the appointed star.

you squint to make a more intricate observation of the star while racking your brain, trying to remember your astrology lessons at school.

"well... don't stars form from accumulated gas and dust in space?" you finally conclude, remembering one fact your teacher has emphasized back then.

kuroo nods happily.

"yep. stars form when the gravity of the dust and air collapse together, which makes them heat up out of pressure."

he continues to ramble on about how stars mostly contain hydrogen and helium, the lightest elements to exist in the universe, and how stars are, in reality, exploding balls of gas.

you listen patiently as he explains. you are always interested in his nerdy science talk, as well as the way he is invested in his own world when a discussion related to a scientific topic arises.

it takes him a little bit to finish his explanation with a sneeze.

of course, he's not wearing his jacket. that's why.

you take off the jacket you were wearing and hand it to him.

"you're gonna catch a cold, so take your jacket back."

however, he pushes it back into your chest.

"no, kitten. you have it. i'm worried about you more."

you begin to pout, angry that he's always caring for your health instead of his own.

"no, kuroo," you say with an upset look. "this is not my jacket."

you two begin fighting about who should wear kuroo's jacket, exaggerating the possibilities of not wearing one and lecturing one another.

"that's it," kuroo sighs, looking troubled.

at first, you are confused by his words.

"what do you m-"

it was at this moment that kuroo covers the blanket that you forgot he had brought onto his back and then trapping you inside his arms, wrapping your body inside the blanket.

"there, now we're both warm," he smirks.

you take a while to understand the situation you're currently in before blushing madly. you look up at him, only to see that usual proud smirk on his face. he obviously did this on purpose.

"tetsu?! what the actual hell?!" you scream.

"oya? anything wrong?" he asks a little too 'innocently', pissing you off.

you growl back, "of course, you dumbass! people might see us and take this to like a million different wrong directions!"

"kitten, it's almost half-past 23:00. it's really unlikely that we'll be seen since most people are asleep."

you can't counter back, because that sly cat is right. most people are asleep at this time, so it's highly unlikely that you'd get caught like this with kuroo.

you have no idea how to react, so you decide to lean your back against kuroo, resting your head on his chest. at least, you realize that you feel much warmer than wearing his jacket. in the end, you start to relax, paying closer attention to the steady rise and fall of his chest while he breathes.

"do you ever see stars as memories when you look at them?" you ask kuroo, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze.

"sometimes," he smiles, looks at one of the stars.

"like that one near that giant cloud reminds me of when i stole your meat from your lunchbox."

you cough.

"do you think this is a great time to bring this up??"

he only smirks at you. "you asked if i get reminded of anything when i look at a star."

you pout a little and fix your eyes to another star and point your finger towards it.

"well, this one reminds me of when yaku beat your ass for stealing meat from my lunchbox."

you two begin talking back and forth, saying which star represented which memory, laughing about the old days, and fighting about various things, like who should've gotten to eat that scrumptious piece of steak.

as you come back to argue about the lunchbox situation again, a white streak catches your eyes, snapping your attention back to the sky.

"look, tetsu! shooting stars!" you exclaim.

what kuroo turns his head to look at the sky with you.

sure enough, more streaks of white rain down like a slight drizzle.

"hurry up! make a wish!" you tell him before clasping your hands together before your face and close your eyes.

kuroo looks at you, then back at the sky. after a while, he closes his eyes and makes his wish.

i want to stay by y/n's side, even after i graduate.

however, he doesn't say it out loud. instead, he wraps his arms around your chest after you have finished making your wish.

for the first time in forever, kuroo gives you the most genuine smile that you've ever seen, which surprises you since you're so used to his cheeky smirks. it reminds you of honey and its sweet flavor.

"you know, kitty, we could do this next time," he coos in the sweetest voice you've ever heard him use.

"did you think i'd stop you?"

"ummmm..."

you look side-ways towards the tree beside you before give him your honest response.

"weeeeell, i thought you'd tell me it'd be too late into the night to do something like this and that i wouldn't be able to wake up if i stay up star-hunting."

kuroo chuckles, petting your head lightly with that big hand of his

"things like this are exceptions."

your eyes light up to his words. he has officially announced the permit to stay up searching for shooting stars that you adore a lot. it makes you very happy that you smile back warmly.

"thank you, tetsurou," you sigh, leaning into his chest comfortably.

"it's nothing, y/n."

he continues to stroke your hair in a soothing way as he maintains that genuine smile on his lips.

"just bring a jacket next time, or star-hunting will be off-limits."

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mercy-burning · 3 years ago

Text

Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

SERIES TAGLIST: @reidyoulikeabook @yourmisosoup @fortheloveofcriminalminds @bellzo17 @altsvu @flipperpenguins @mcumorningstar

TAGS NOT WORKING: @reid-to-me @totallyclearwitch

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #losing you twice

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fireladybuckley · 3 years ago

Text

It Isn’t in my Blood

Fandom: 9-1-1 Prompt: Inspired by @kitkatpancakestack‘s “what if Buck finds the pamphlet“ post Pairing: Implied future Buddie - Evan Buckley (Buck) x Eddie Diaz Word Count: 2,330 Summary: SPOILERS - A 5x01 missing scene - Buck finds the pamphlet on anxiety and panic attacks given to him by the cardiologist at the hospital and encourages Eddie to tell him what happened. Eddie breaks down and admits that maybe not everything is okay.

Beta’d by @firemedicdiaz Thank you babe <3

Read it on Ao3

“I’ll just be a minute, you staying here?” Eddie asked, hopping out of the truck and looking over at Buck.

“Sure, sounds good,” Buck said, yawning. Eddie nodded and closed the door, hurrying up the sidewalk as Buck settled back in his seat. It had been such a long, chaotic shift and Buck was exhausted; Eddie just had to drop off a form at Christopher’s school and then they were going for breakfast. Buck figured he had time for a short nap and shut his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come.

After a while it became apparent that Eddie was going to be longer than he’d said, and Buck was getting restless. He grew bored quite easily of late, so he began poking around Eddie’s truck - changing the radio station, fiddling with the air freshener. Absently, Buck hit the button on the dashboard that opened the glove box in front of him and looked down into it, wondering if there were any travel brochures left in there from a previous road trip that he could look at. Instead, he pulled out a very different kind of pamphlet that looked like it had been shoved in carelessly and as he read the front, his eyebrows contracted with a small frown.

Understanding Anxiety and Panic Attacks - Recognize the Signs and Symptoms

Underneath the pamphlet were a couple of folded sheets of paper. Upon quick inspection, Buck saw that they were discharge papers from the hospital dated a few days earlier with Eddie’s name in the patient field.

Buck’s heart squeezed painfully as he stared at the slightly crumpled papers and then back at the pamphlet, realizing what it must all mean. Buck had been startled earlier in the shift when that doctor had called out to Eddie, but Eddie had been very resistant to talking about his trip to the hospital. Buck had dropped it for the time being as they had been chaotically busy the entire shift, but he had always intended to grill Eddie about it later. Now, he suddenly understood what must have happened. He knew from experience how scary panic attacks could be, how they could feel like a heart attack, especially if a person had never had one before.

He remembered how uncomfortable Eddie had looked when Buck had tried to confront him. Buck knew how much Eddie relied on everyone thinking he was this stoic, unmoving rock, because it allowed him to hide his feelings and keep everything bottled up. Buck was well aware that he himself and Bobby were the only two people that Eddie ever opened up to, and it made Buck’s heart hurt as he considered how shaken up Eddie must have been by the whole incident to be so resistant to telling him about it.

Buck sighed, wishing he had known, thinking about how he could try to help Eddie as he skimmed the pamphlet. He wanted to help, hating the idea that Eddie could be going through this alone. He distinctly remembered how Eddie had tried to drag Buck out of his horrible depression and anxiety after the fire truck had crushed his leg and he wanted to be there for Eddie in turn. Buck knew that Eddie had Ana, but if Buck was right about their relationship, he suspected that Eddie would be uncomfortable talking to her about his emotions. He’d always had the feeling that while Eddie clearly liked Ana and they got along well, their relationship wasn’t particularly deep and Buck knew that Eddie had to really trust someone before he would open up.

Lost in his thoughts, Buck was still looking at the pamphlet in one hand, the discharge papers held loosely in the other, when Eddie returned.

“Alright, that’s all done, let’s go t-- Buck, what the hell?”

Buck jumped as the driver’s door opened and Eddie swung himself inside, only to freeze when he saw what Buck was holding and reading through. Buck started to stammer as Eddie snatched the papers and pamphlet out of his hands and threw them back into the glove box, snapping it shut and staring straight ahead, his chest rising and falling quickly, his jaw set.

“Eddie, I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop, I just found that in the glove box and I couldn’t help looking at it…”

“It’s fine. It’s nothing.” Eddie’s voice was clipped, and Buck could tell he felt vulnerable and was not pleased about it.

“I mean, it’s not nothing,” Buck replied cautiously in a coaxing tone. He hadn’t been planning on talking to Eddie about this before breakfast, but then there was no time like the present. “Is this why you were in the hospital the other day?”

Eddie shot him an annoyed look, because it was obvious that Buck had seen the discharge papers so the question was redundant, but then he sighed and nodded.

“Yeah. I’m fine though.”

“Eddie… you’ve been through so much. There’s no shame in having a panic attack--” Buck began, but Eddie started the truck and cut through his words sharply.

“I don’t panic.”

Buck frowned as Eddie pulled away from the curb and began to drive without saying another word. Deciding to give him some space for a few so he could collect his thoughts, Buck stayed silent as they moved through the streets. To his surprise, Eddie pulled up in front of Buck’s apartment building and parked, still looking straight ahead.

“I… thought we were going for breakfast?” Buck asked slowly, not sure what to expect. Eddie seemed to steel himself, then glanced towards the building and shut off the truck.

“I know you’re not going to let this go, and I don’t want to do it in public. Let’s go up to your loft.”

Eddie’s voice was gruff, but Buck was grimly pleased that he wasn’t resisting. Buck knew that Eddie knew Buck would not let this slide, would not let it rest until he was sure that Eddie was okay. Taking his lead, Buck agreed and hopped out of the truck, following Eddie up to his building and then leading the way into his apartment.

“Let’s get this over with,” Eddie said in a resigned voice as he moved into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, Buck pulling himself up and sitting on the counter across from him. “What do you want to know?”

“What happened?” Buck asked simply. “I know you went to the hospital, you were seen by a cardiologist, and now you have a pamphlet on panic attacks. What actually happened?”

Eddie gnawed the inside of his lip, still refusing to look at Buck as he mulled over what to say. He was staring at the lower part of the counter in front of him, Buck’s shoe dangling in his line of sight, though he wasn’t seeing much. All he could see in his mind was that damn suit store, the feeling of the tightness in his chest making him feel claustrophobic and deeply uncomfortable.

“I don’t know. We were trying on suits, and then I just… collapsed. I thought I was having a heart attack,” Eddie summarized it as succinctly as he could, but he knew it wasn’t going to be enough for Buck.

“Okay, but what triggered that?” Buck asked, his voice gently prodding. “Did something upset you, or…?”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably, and Buck’s lips curled in a small, sad smile.

“Eddie, it’s just me. You can talk to me. You know you can trust me. Please tell me what happened.”

For a brief moment, Eddie lifted his eyes and met Buck’s gaze. Buck’s expression was earnest, concerned, and Eddie knew he was right. If there was anyone in this world he could trust, it was Buck. Still, he hated talking about his emotions, especially ones he felt like he couldn’t control. And yet, he felt like if he didn’t share it with someone he may explode because he was starting to seriously wonder what was going on in his brain.

“I… you know I’m not good at this,” Eddie muttered, and Buck nodded.

“I know, but… you were there for me when everything with my parents was going on. You told me it was okay to feel what I was feeling, and to share it. I want that for you, too,” Buck told him gently, and Eddie sighed. He felt like a hypocrite; he had told Buck those things, and he had meant it. But for some reason when it came to himself, he had different rules.

“The last time Chris and I wore suits was at Shannon’s funeral,” Eddie said, averting his gaze once more as he began to speak. “I guess that was already putting me on edge. I couldn’t stop thinking about her death and everything that had happened right before she died. I just wanted to get out of there.”

Eddie paused but Buck didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt. Buck had a feeling that if Eddie stopped talking he wouldn’t start again so he waited patiently, keeping his mouth shut.

“I think Chris was feeling it, too, but I was too distracted to notice. And then… then the sales guy called Ana Chris’s mom.”

Buck tilted his head to the side, looking over at Eddie, slightly confused. Eddie and Ana had been together for nearly six months, it was only natural that at some point she would be mistaken for Chris’s mom. But Eddie seemed shaken and Buck wasn’t sure he was going to continue.

“What happened then?” Buck asked quietly, trying to gently prompt Eddie to speak again without spooking him. Eddie had gotten a somewhat haunted look in his eyes and Buck could tell he was getting upset. He was tempted to tell Eddie to stop, not wanting him to be distraught, but he sensed Eddie really needed to get it out there, so Buck would do everything he could to coax it out.

“I- I genuinely don’t know,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “Hearing that, it just… it intensified my thoughts about Shannon, and thinking of Ana as Chris’s mom is just - just so far beyond where we are in our relationship, and I- I…”

Eddie was starting to get visibly upset and Buck slipped off the counter, moving over to stand beside him in case he needed support.

“It made me realize that m-maybe I don’t want-- maybe things aren’t going so great, or something. I don’t know.”

“And then?” Buck prompted gently, feeling his heart break as Eddie glanced at him, clearly upset.

“And then… I don’t know. I don’t panic,” Eddie said stubbornly, though as he thought back to what had happened, he let out a long, unhappy sigh. “But… I guess I panicked. I don’t know. I felt overwhelmed, and my chest got tight and I couldn’t breathe… I got really dizzy and fell over, I thought I was having a heart attack.”

“Panic attacks can be really scary,” Buck told him, trying to reassure him. “They can definitely feel like heart attacks.”

“I don’t panic,” Eddie repeated, scowling at the floor. “I never panic. Not in the military, not when Shannon died, not when you nearly died several times…”

“Eddie, you’ve been through a lot,” Buck reasoned, trying to brush off the last part of the sentence, as though it wasn’t a big deal to him that his near-death experiences were one of the things Eddie considered most upsetting. “Do you think the shooting could be part of this? Or is it just your relationship?”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably again, not responding, and as Buck watched him, he saw tears start to pool in Eddie’s eyes, despite Eddie continually refusing to make eye contact.

“Are you okay?” Buck asked quietly, reaching out and touching him, gripping Eddie’s forearm lightly in a gesture of support. This one little touch seemed to have caused him to come undone, however, and Buck saw his expression contort, his lips pressed together tightly as he tried and failed to stop himself crying.

“No,” Eddie finally blurted out, seemingly completely against his will. “No, I’m not okay.”

Buck’s heart broke and he immediately reached out to embrace Eddie, giving him a chance to pull away if he wanted. When he didn’t, Buck wrapped his arms around him and held him as Eddie choked into his shoulder, trying desperately to stop himself from outright sobbing. It was rare that Buck had seen Eddie cry - he hadn’t seen it since Shannon’s death - and Buck wished he could take Eddie’s pain away, wished he could make the world right for him again.

After a few moments Eddie squirmed in his arms and Buck got the message that he was uncomfortable so he pulled away, but he didn’t go far. Eddie seemed determined to not meet his gaze, furiously wiping at his eyes, and Buck gently rubbed his back, sensing that he really wanted comfort but was trying to stop himself from allowing it. They stood like that for a while, until Eddie’s attempts at stopping his tears dissolved and he took a shaky breath, letting them slip down his cheeks as he pulled himself together.

“It’s okay to not be okay sometimes. You’re going to get through this,” Buck told him, his hand stilling in the middle of Eddie’s back. “And I’m gonna help you get through it, if that’s what you want.”

Eddie swallowed, sniffing, as he listened to Buck speak. He’d always gone through things alone. He’d always thought that was the best way to do it. But in that moment, standing there, knowing he had Buck’s full love and support behind him, Eddie started to wonder if maybe having Buck at his side would be a much better option than going it alone. Eddie nodded slowly, glancing at Buck for a moment before looking away, nodding again.

“Yeah,” Eddie took a shaky breath and looked over at Buck, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope in his heart. “That’s what I want.”

-----------

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lilith-of-rivia · 4 years ago

Text

The Bards Sister Geralt XFemale!Reader Part 1

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Masterlist

Summary: Geralt of Rivia and his long time travel companion Jaskier find themselves in Jaskiers home land. A place geralt had not only never seen nor heard of. Jaskier is ready to reunite its his family after traveling and exploring the world for 20 years. The one person he missed the most was his baby sister (Y/N). Who he hadnt seen since she was 5. The journal is long, but the pay off is grander then they would ever be able to predict. I know i am trash at summaries.

Trigger warnings: NONE a lot of Geralt and Jaskier in this first part. Your charicter doesn’t come in till closer to the end.

Pairings: GeraltxReader JaskierxSister!reader

Word count: 6,095 longest fanfic I’ve ever written!!

A/N: hello my loves!!! I got my Insperation back!! I’m hopping i will be regularly posting agin!!! I ove you all so much you consistent love and supoort has not gone unnoticed. The constant likes and reblogs truly means the world to me. I love every single one of you so much. Thank you for believing in my writing the way you do. All my love -Lilith ps. I have reviewed and edited but I will be doing a more in-depth review soon!

“Where are we going, Jaskier.” The Witcher’s brooding voice echoed threw the flowered valley. His horse trotted not far behind his companion. Jaskier looked back at him and just rolled his eyes.

“How many times have you led me on endless roads, towards the middle of nowhere speaking little to no words to me no matter how much I ask?” Geralt said nothing. Jaskier snorted looking back towards the road.

“Exactly. No shut up, your brooding is giving me a headache.” The bard was giving the witcher a taste of his own medicine. The idea that Jaskier was leading him to somewhere he had no idea of the location, made him uneasy. Did he trust his bard? Absolutely without a doubt. Would he ever admit it to him? No never.

Their travels continued till the sun was barely hanging in the sky. The air had grown crisp replacing the harsh burning of the full summer sun. Jaskier pulled his mare to the side of the road, climbing off her, tying her to a tree. Geralt followed, realizing they were stopping for the day.

“We still have a couple hours of daylight left.” Geralt said as he took Roach’s saddle and tack off.

“We don't need a couple hours, we are nearly there. Maybe an hour and half.” Geralt cocked an eyebrow at Jaskier.

“Then why did we stop?” Jaskier pulled his saddle bags off his horse, putting them beside a log as he gathered some sticks for the fire.

“Because I have to debrief you as to who we are going to see and you must bathe before we do so. The stream here will do the trick.”

“Gods Jaskier, will you just tell me where we are going? The secrecy is bullshit.” The broot of a man was losing his patience with his friend.

The duo had been on the trip for nearly two weeks. They left Tramieria and headed east. Much further east than Geralt could ever remember traveling. Yet the bard seemed to know exactly what turns to take and when. The closer they drew to their destination the more the witcher could hear his heart beat faster.

“Jaskier if this is some stupid plot for me to protect you from some man who’s wife you slept with again-“

“It's not Geralt-“ Jaskier pinched the bridge of his nose, his stress causing a minor headache. “Just go bathe then I’ll tell you everything.” Geralt studied his friend, his eyes searching his face, his ears tuning into his heart beat trying his best to figure out what he was getting himself into.

With a low grunt the witcher grabbed his last set of clean clothes and the bar of soap from the bard's hand before stomping off to the river.

“Clean EVERYTHING!” Jaskier yelled over his shoulder. Only getting an unfriendly finger in return.

Nearly an hour later, the sun was completely hidden behind the canyon, the glow of the fire Jaskier started illuminating their small camp. Jaskier’s fingers strummed mindlessly at his lute, his eyes fixed on the stars that were making their presence known more, humming to himself softly. He heard his friends footsteps as he approached, his hair was wet at his shoulders. A fresh white Cotton tunic hugged his muscular build, black trousers hugging his legs. He smiled nice for once. All thanks to the lavender and honey soap Jaskier had received as a gift.

“Now don't you look better.” Jaskier said with a chuckle. The witcher sat down across the fire from him, his golden eyes staring heavily at the bard.

“Spill your guts Jaskier.” Jaskier rubbed his hands over his face and nodded. His eyes looking anywhere but at his friend.

“I haven't been completely forward about my family life.” Jaskier’s eyes landed on the moon above them. It was nearly full, he was doing well with time. He knew they would reach their destination well before the next full moon.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s harsh voice broke the silence. With a loud sigh Jaskier finally looked his friend in the face.

“I’m royalty Geralt.” The Witcher’s expression did not change. He just looked at his friend. He could hear Jaskier's heart beat become uneven and unsteady. At first he thought it was a joke but the nervous energy radiating from his long time friend made him think better.

“My family, they are wonderful people. My mother, bless her, taught me everything I needed to know about writing and music. Convinced my father to let me train at Oxenfurt Academy. My father is a noble and loyal king. He served our people well. Still does to my knowledge. I haven't been back in nearly 20 years…” the bard trailed off, his eyes fixated on his hands, his fingers twildilling with a ring he had on. The ring was that of his family. Their crest engraved into the gold.

“I was never meant to be a noble. I lived for adventure, for more than just sitting on a throne and watching people come and go. I was never fit to be king. My parents knew that. They understood. Understanding people they are.” His voice trailed off again, hopping his friend would say something. Ask a question. Anything. He didn’t know where to go next.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Geralt finally asked.

“Because it never came up. My family never needed me. I never needed them. I love them all dearly of course. But we were never the closest people in the world. Well, my sister and I were.” That caught the Witcher’s attention. His eyes narrow slightly, he made sure to not let his expression scare the bard into not telling him more. He was genuinely curious about his family. But he couldn't lie and say he wasn't disappointed that in the 7 years they traveled together he never heard of them.

“You have a sister?” The bard's eyes lit up. His memory raced with images of his tun little sister chasing him around the courtyard screaming, yelling his name. Her giggles and laughs pulling at his heart strings.

“Yes. Her name is (Y/N). She is about to be 25. Big age for a princess. I havnt seen her since she was very little.” His heart started to break softly. His neglect to his baby sitter weighting heavily on him.

“I write her often, as much as I can. She was...well, a surprise to my parents to say the least. I was 15 when she was born. I left home at 20. I was only around for her toddler years. I never got to see her grow, blossom into a young woman. I missed so much.” Jaskier had to fight back the tears, his throat becoming tight and dry. His body filling with regret.

“I just kept pushing it back Geralt. I alwasy said I’d make it home. I alwasy had it in the back of my mind to go back and see her. But I never did.”

“Why now?” Geralt asked.

“She wrote me a few months back. It was nearly a book. It was filled with tales of her new travels around our country. She had been training heavily with an unmanned matester of combat. She traveled the countryside with the man. She referred to him as an uncle. In the letter she asked me if it was true that I’d been traveling with you. She said the songs and tales of Jaskier the Bard traveling with the White Wolf made it to her ears.” Jaskier stopped talking for a brief moment, rummaged around his rut sack and pulled out a notebook. He untied its string and a large pile of papers fell out into his hand. He unfolded the parchment and scanned the writing.

“I wrote her back that week. Only to receive this in return.” He began to read;

“Oh dear Jaskier!! I cannot believe its true. I thought he was only a legend. The white wolf. Please tell him he is a hero here. We love his stories. Many have written books of him. Children run round calling themselves the butcher of Blaviken here to save the damsel and distress. I love his stories, mainly because they involve you. Please come visit me this year. I miss you terribly. I want to hear of your travels with the wolf. Mother said he is more than welcome to stay if he wishes to travel with you. I do miss you Jaskier. More than I think you know. I do not mean to guilt you or make you feel bad as i know you are traveling the world to your heart's content and would never want you to feel as though I do not support you-“ Jaskier stopped reading for a brief moment. A small tear dripped onto the page he was reading. Geralt listened to every word he read. He couldn't help the small tug of his lips when he read about the children pretending to be him. It was a breath of fresh air for the witcher. He had constantly been told he was a monster. To hid your children from him. Yet here was an entire country that loved him, yet he had no idea. Jaskier cleared his throat and continued. “But i miss my brother. And maybe, just maybe. I could come with you. If you deem me fit. I have been working tirelessly with a friend of fathers. He trains me in not only swordsmanship, but Herbology, and monsters as well. I can name nearly every monster that has inhabited the Continent and how to slay it. He thinks I’m ready to leave the nest and I think mother and father are getting a bit tired of me as well. I cannot stand another somber, dull, dinner party with nobles who look at me like a piece of meat. So please. Visit me soon. Come and stay a few days. Catch up with your dear sister and maybe, if he isn't too busy and if it doesn’t inconvenience him, bring the Wolf with you. He’d be a welcomed hero. All my love dear brother. Xoxo Love always, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz

Jaskier folded the letter, placing it inside his notebook before safely storing it inside his sack again. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes slowly moving from his hands to his best friend. They sat in the silence for a while. Geralt’s brain replaying the words he had heard from his friend.

“You could have told me about her Jaskier. Why didn't you? You’ve been in contact with her all this time, planning to see her and your family again. Bringing me along for the ride, yet not a single word in 7 years. Do you not trust me with such a secret Jaskier?” Jaskier was taken aback by his friend's words.

He never knew his secrecy would have such an impact on his friend. When it came to Geralt he learned long ago, the little words, the better. The witcher can only handle so much before he loses interest and stops listening or walks away. He never in a million years would have thought he cared about his life that much. It warmed the bards heart to know his dear friend, the only brother he ever had, cared that deeply for him.

“It has nothing to do with not trusting you Geralt. Is has everything to do with the shame I hold for not seeing her sooner. For treating her like a dirty secret form the world. There is no logical reason for me to keep my family such a big secret. Yet I have. For 20 years.” Geralt’s hands rubbed together softly as he listened to his friend. He understood the secrecy. He was a box full of secrets that nobody could get into.

“Its okay Jaskier. I understand the secrecy. Is that where we are going tomorrow?” Jaskier nodded, a smile appearing on his face.

“Her birthday is the next full moon. I’m hoping my gift will be a good start in time lost.” Geralt looked at him curiously. He hadn't noticed any major item in Jaskier’s possession that could make a good gift for a young princess.

“You’re her gift Geralt. I wrote her back after that letter and told her I’d be back for her next birthday. But that you simply were to busy with your work. I told her that you greatly appreciated her support and that youd consider writing to her in the future. She has no idea your coming with me.” Geralt didnt know how he felt about being a gift. He never ever saw himself as a gift to anyone. More of a burden the a gift. He shook his head at Jaskier and tutted at him.

“Jaskier if your that broke you could’ve asked me for a few extra coins for a real gift.” The witcher attempted to joke with the bard. It made Jaskier smile more. Geralt could be funny, but his humor was incredibly dry, much like Jaskier’s father.

“Geralt! Did you just try and joke around with me??” Geralt rolled his eyes, laying down stretching his muscles as he looked up at the starts.

“Best get some sleep Jaskier, you’ve got a rather big family reunion tomorrow.”

The next morning Jaskier was up and awake before Geralt, a rare sight. He truly hadn't slept more than a couple hours that night. His nerves kept him awake. He feared his sister wouldn’t be as loving as he pictured, she had every right to be mad at him, hate him even. By the time Geralt was up, Jaskier had bathed, changed and had his horse completely ready to go.

Geralt had to do everything in his power to not laugh at his friend. He looked rather ridiculous. His normal bright attire was replaced with a royals outfit. A green and blue velvet tunic and some extremely uncomfortable looking black trousers. His hair was combed back and his face was freshly washed. He even cleaned under his fingernails. He looked rather ridiculous in Geralt’s opinion. He couldn't help the low chuckle that left his lips as he put his bed roll away.

“I don't understand why you're laughing. I have some clothes for you to put on as well.” Geralt’s expression changed instantly, from humorous to angry.

“No. Absolutely not. What I’m wearing is perfectly fine. I’d wear it to meet any king or queen.” A bag was chucked at him, he barely caught it before it smacked into his face.

“This isn't any normal king and queen Geralt. This is my family. And besides, you are no ordinary witcher in my kingdom, you’ll be treated as royalty there. You may as well look the part.” Geralt huffed and threw the bag of clothes back at his friends feet, glaring daggers at him. He hated dressing up with a burning passion. Everything was too tight, not easy to fight in. If anything happened he’d have to rip the seams on every piece of clothing to be able to maneuver his weapons properly. And fancy clothes dont have space for weapons. He didn't like that one bit. Jaskier looked at his friend. His eyes pleading with him.

“Please Geralt. Just for today and her birthday. I couldn't care less what you wear at any other point on this trip.” He had walked closer to Geralt now. About a meter away from him. He extended his hand, the bag in his hand. Geralt looked from the bag to his friend. His teeth and jaw clenched.

He let out a loud huff and grabbed the bag from the bard.

“Fine.” He said through gritted teeth and began taking off his clothing. Jaskier smiled before turning his attention to Roach, getting her stalled and tacked so when Geralt was dressed they could leave.

“If we move with a bit of a haste we could make it there before breakfast.” Jaskier said as he mounted his horse, looking at his friend. His hand slapped over his face. The witcher looked utterly ridiculous in his new attire. The bright red and orange vest a-top a cream tunic, his legs tight in some disgustingly ugly corduroy pants. The pants were obviously smaller than the seamstress he bought them off claimed them to be. The ends of the pants came nearly mid calf on Geralt’s legs. His pasty white ankles and feet shining in the early morning sun.

“Jesus Geralt. Those are worse than the ones I got for Pavetta’s party.” The bard could no longer hold in his laughter. Did Gerarlt look like a nobleman? Sure, but his size, white hair, and bright yellow eyes really didn't help the situation.

“Jaskier, I will kill you for this.” Geralt grumbled angered as he pulled his socks up his feet and over his calves. Luckily for him (and Jaskier) his boots went higher than his pants, making it harder to notice that the pants he was wearing were way too small.

“At least I’m not making you wear a big hat with a feather, those are truly hideous.” Geralt mounted Roach, more carefully then he normally does in fear his pants could bust at the seams.

“I had to wrap you up nice and pretty to present you to my sister.” Jaskier commented as he led his horse; Napoleon to the main road, Geralt and Roach in tow.

The two men rode in a comfortable silence for some time, but as they got closer and closer to Jaskier’s home, all Geralt could hear was his frantic heartbeat. Jaskier’s palms get sweaty and his throat dry, no matter how much water he drinks from his water skin.

“Jaskier. You need to calm down. Your fucking heart beat is driving me insane.” Geralt hissed. They could see the end of the valley they had been traveling in. Geralt looked out in the distance, his eyes saw the castle first. It was very far, but he could tell how beautiful it was from where they were.

“Maybe you just shouldn’t listen to it then.” Jaskier barked back.

“You know I have no control over it, idiot. Take a deep breath. I know you're scared, I understand. But from the sounds of it your sister desperately misses you, I don't think she would ask you to come see her if she was going to hate you.” Geralt didn't talk much at all, that everyone knew. He was a man of few words. But when he did speak it was wiser than most people ever expected. People tended to forget the age of the white haired man, as he stopped ageing physically in his late twenties.

Jaskier smiled softly at his friend's words, he listened to him and took a few deep breaths, calling himself down. Geralt was right. His sister seemed eager as ever to see him again.

The two men approached the entrance to the city. Geralt was more than shocked. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen a city so beautiful in his entire life. The streets were lined in beautiful stone, flowers, vines, greenery all around every corner. The banners that were hanging on the outside of the main gates caught Geralt’s eyes. The crests on them were brightly colored in greens and blues, a very large diamond in the center. Their horses rode into the entrance of the town. Jaskier’s heart was calm, steady, his face was bright and had a smile Geralt had never seen on him before. He was finally home.

“Welcome to Inritha (In-Rithe-A) the capital of Unthya (Un-The-A) Geralt. Welcome to my home.”

Their horses traveled down the stone brick road slowly, the city was buzzing already even with it being the early hours of the morning. Geralt was surprised to see everyone look so...happy, care free. Enjoying their lives. They looked as though nothing was a fret, no monster looming. Geralt was mesmerized by the city. The buildings were built out of what looked to him like limestone, a building material he so rarely saw in other parts of the Continent. The buildings were being taken over by vines and moss, flowers all over. He’d never seen so many butterflies in his life.

“Jaskier-'' his voice was barely a whisper, the bard turning to look at him as they rode side by side. Jaskier couldn't help but smile as his friend admired the beauty he himself had so easily forgotten over the years.

“I know, it's beautiful. I've forgotten myself.”

The two men continued riding their horses up the road closer and closer to the castle. The longer they road tho more attention they got from passer buys. Geralt could hear their whispers.

It couldn't be. Could it?

THE Geralt of Rivia? Here in Inritha?

Mummy look! It's the butcher!!

Has Prince Jaskier finally returned home?

For the first time in what seemed like his entire life, the hushed whispers Geralt heard as he rode through a city were not of hate and disgust. But of admiration and curiosity. The entire time Geralt and Jaskier rode through the city, he never once had the urge to grab either of his swords that were at his side.

The two men approached the gates of the castle, four armored guards stood outside. The put their hand up in motion for the men to stop. One who looked as tho to be the commander of sorts stepped forward poking between both men. Eyes lingering for a long while on the two.

“State your name and what business you have in Inritha at this early hour.” Jaskier dismounted his horse, waking a few feet forward.

“My name is Jaskier Alfred Pankratz son of Dastrill and Alvere Pankratz. This is my companion Geralt Of Rivia, we are here on behalf of my sister, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz’s 25th birthday.” Jaskier bowed his head lowly, keeping eye contact with the commander in front of him.

“Prince Jaskier?!?” The man clearly looked flustered and embarrassed for not recognizing the prince of his own kingdom. All four men quickly bowed their heads.

“Please accept my apology your highness, we welcome you home. As do we welcome your honored guest.” Jaskier smiled and told the men to not trouble themselves with an apology. Geralt continued to watch from atop Roach, still not use to being idolized instead of feared. Honored guest. Geralt thought to himself. He could get use to the new treatment. Jaskier remounted Napoleon the gates to the castle walls opening. The both road threw, all four men bowed their heads as the two walked threw. Not once did they threaten Geralt’s life. They were led by a guard to the stables where they left their horses.

Geralt could hear Jaskier heart beating again in his chest as they were led inside the castle. Geralt tried to concentrate on his friend, to be there for him but he couldn't help but let his eyes wander all over the castle's walls, it was a bright exterior. The walls polished, candles everywhere. Large windows allowing for natural lighting. Nothing dark or gloomy about the castle at all. He felt uplifted..cheary almost. As they neared the entrance to the grand hall where the King, Queen, Princess along with some others were. Geralt could hear the light conversation, and the clicking of silver on plates, they were eating breakfast. But he could still hear Jaskier’s heart beating in his chest. Geralt placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder as they walked, giving it a soft squeeze. The action made Jaskier more worried if the witcher was feeling alright, as it was abnormally out of character for the man. But he said nothing, appreciating the gesture.

They got to the door and just as the guard was about to push the doors open Jaskier grabbed his arm.

“Could we maybe skip the loud over dramatic announcements of my arrival? I have not seen my family in years.” The guard only nodded, bowed his head and walked back outside to his post. Jaskier looked over at his friend, as he put his hand on the door ready to push it open.

“Now or never.” Jaskier said as he opened the door. Both men walked into the large room, the talking stopped almost instantly. Geralt stood at the door, not wanting to impose on the important reunion of his friend and his family. He followed Jaskiers gaze to the table ahead of them in the front of the room. The room was lined with huge floor to ceiling windows, the light of the early morning sun shone brightly making the marble floors glisten.

“JASKIER!!!” The loud scream of a girl nearly made Geralt jump out of his skin, his hand reaching back for a sword that wasn't there in instinct.

It made Jaskier jump but the smile that covered his face was even bigger than the one he had seen as he walked through the city. Geralt followed Jaskier’s gaze to a young woman. The sight of her alone made Geralt want to pass out. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. Her hair was the same chestnut brown that Jaskier had, but it was long, hip length. She had it pulled back slightly out of her face, a few baby hairs framed her face. Oh her face. Geralt thought as though he was looking at a living breathing angel. He heard her chair scrape roughly on the ground before it loudly crashed on the floor. She raced around the long table from her mothers side and sprinted to her brother. She practically threw herself on him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, stumbling back a few steps. Everything was quite as the two embraced. Geralt's eyes went to the king and queen who were now standing. The queen looked just like (Y/N) but her hair was black, long stripes of grey peeking through her hair. The crown atop her head glistened in the light. Her right hand was tightly around her husband's arm, her other hand placed softly over her mouth as she looked at her children. Her husband looked much like Jaskier. His hair was the same color as both of their children, but much like his wife’s, much of it had turned grey. His eyes were the same cornflower blue that Jaskier had.

Minutes passed in silence before Jaskier put his hands on his sisters shoulders, pulling her away from him. He put one hand on her cheek as he examined her features. Her pale cheeks were damp with tears. But not sad tears. Tears of joy.

“My sister, how you’ve grown.” Geralt could hear the tears in the bard's voice. He couldn't see him but he could hear everything.

(Y/N) fingers gently brushed over her brother’s face as she smiled at him.

“My brother, how you haven't aged a day. You look just as I remember you. Maybe a few more wrinkles.” She teased. He laughed softly. Wiping his eyes with his hand before pulling her into another bone crushing embrace. She was much shorter than Jaskier, barely shoulder level with him. Geralt was shocked to remember she would be turning 25 in two days. She was still young in the face, beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to see her more up close.

While the siblings spoke their parents moved from the spots at the table, standing behind (Y/N). Alvere was the first to pull him into a tight embrace after her daughter let go. Her fingers gently combed through his hair as she inhaled his scent deeply.

“My dear son how I've missed you.” She whispers slowly into his ear. Geralt was starting to feel bad for eavesdropping. Not that he could help it. He was still standing at the entrance to the grand hall yet he could hear everything.

Jaskiers father hugged him next, it was not nearly as long as the outer two but both men were okay with it. Understanding that their relationship had never been one for long father son hugs.

“It is good to see you again my boy.” His hand clasped down on his son's shoulder.

The four of them stood close together, smiling more than Geralt ever thought possible. It almost made his heart turn. Deep, deep, deep, down the witcher longed for a family that would look at him the way they looked at Jaskier. He often cured the universe for not giving him an option when it came to what he had become. He clung to the few memories he had of his mother. But as years passed they became harder and harder to remember, more painful. But he had. Made a new sort of family over the years. From Jaskier, to his brothers at Kaer Morhen.

“(Y/N), mum, dad, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” Jaskier turned his head towards the door to the hall. Geralt stood tall, shoulders pressed back, his hair framed his face gracefully. Even in the entirely ugly attire he was in, he made himself as presentable and as proper as possible. (Y/N)’s eyes grew bigger when her eyes met his. He once again was taken aback by her beauty. Her eyes were a powerful emerald green matching similarly to the color of her brother's tunic, but brighter. Her mouth fell slightly agape when she realized who it was. The eyes were a dead give away that he was in fact a witcher, but once she saw the silver medallion that rested on his chest, she knew.

Jaskier nodded his head for Geralt to walk forward and he did, his footsteps were light, his pace slow and steady as he walked closer to the royal family. (Y/N)’s hand gently covered her mouth in excitement. Her eyes flickering to her brother who grinned at her.

“A bit of an early birthday gift.” He winked. Once Geralt was closer to the group Jaskier turned so he could introduce them, at his sister's side. All eyes were on him. Even the few people who were still seated at the table were looking at him. He started to feel a bit more uneasy. He started to remember how far away his swords were if he needed them. This alone was beginning to make him panic. He was not used to being welcomed into royal courts unless it was specifically for a hunt.

“This is Geralt of Rivia, one of the most feared, renowned, and skilled Witcher’s the content has to offer. And also my best friend.”

Geralt's eyes were back on (Y/N)’s, his worries dropped more when she smiled brightly at him. Her eyes gleamed.

Geralt bowed his head to the three of them, “ it is an absolute pleasure to meet you, your highnesses.” (Y/N) was nearly blown over by the sultry sound of his voice. She had only heard stories of the witcher. Never see him for herself and definitely had never heard him speak. She never expected a monster hunter to be as handsome as he was. She admired every feature he had. Her eyes fixating on his chiseled jawline, the light gray stubble across his chin and cheeks.

“My, what a pleasure it is to meet such a famed warrior as yourself Geralt!” The king spoke before (Y/N) could, which she was happy about as she did not trust her voice to not waver at his beauty in that moment.

“You my dear are very popular around here. Your stories are legendary. The school children even host yearly plays, Reenacting your most beloved stories.” (Y/N)’s mother added her finger pointing light hardly at Geralt. Her hand came out gracefully from her side to shake the Witcher’s hand. He gently took it, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His attention returned to (Y/N).

“I’m terribly sorry I’m the birthday gift from your brother this year.” She shook her head almost as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Do not be sorry Geralt-'' the way she said his name made him feel as though he could keel over. “I would like to thank you, for protecting my brother for the years you have. He never skips on his gratitude for you in his letter to me. For that we are all eternally grateful for you.” She reached her hand out. Geralt wasted no time in grabbing her hand, shaking it gently. He was dying inside, but he couldn't let her or anyone else see. He took a gentle step towards her, his head lowering softly, his soft lips were placed on the back of her small hand. The small action made the young girls' faces burn red. Her eyes flicked to her brother who smugly smiled, knowing danm well his gift was going to take the cake.

“Well, you both should come join us, we just started eating.” The king said with a smile, with a quick wave of his hand two more places we set.

(Y/N) gently removed her hand from Geralt’s. Walking towards the table, both men in tow. As she reached her spot she moved her plate and glass to the middle seat that had been prepared, leaving Jaskier a seat next to their mother and Geralt a seat next to her. They all sat and waited as food was served to them. (Y/N) could feel Geralt watching her as she ate, her brother deep in conversation with her parents about his most recent travels. But she wasnt listening. Her attention was only on the man seated to her left. She looked over at the man, eyed him up and down then turned to her brother. For the first time she noticed how ugly their attire was.

“Gods Jaskier who dressed you two?” She asked as she sipped her orange juice. Both men looked at her. Jaskier looked a bit hurt and Geralt only snorted.

“I told him the clothes were horrendous.” Geralt said beside the young woman making her giggle. The sound made his heart beat faster. This was also when he realized how sensibly everyone else in the room was dressed, and how much they stood out. (Y/N) was in a thin white cotton dress, it was around knee length and a light sweater was on her shoulders. Her mother and father dressed similarly. Their clothes looking normal, comfortable.

“Oh my dear brother. What have you done to the poor witcher.” She laughed, turning her attention to him. She could see how uncomfortable the clothes made him. The vest was way too tight and he was practically bursting out of his pants, not that she minded, she gladly enjoyed the view.

“He is torturing me. That's what.” Geralt scoffed and she couldn't help but giggle again.

“You're so dramatic Geralt it's truly not that bad.” Her head flicked to her brother.

“Jaskier don't be rude.” She tutted him like a mother, it made Geralt snort under his breath as he took a bite of his eggs. She stood and walked behind him. He was stiff at her movements.

“Do you mind?” Her fingers were on the strings of the vest. He shook his head no and she quickly untied the tight strings, and it fell from his shoulders. She took it off and handed it to one of the maids

“You can burn that horridly ugly thing.” She said as she sat back down.

“I do not remember you being so rude, little sister.” Jaskier quipped.

“What I think is rude is how you made sure you got the more presentable clothing and dressed your poor friend in those horrendous colors. Have you seen his pants, Jaskier?? It's a miracle he can still breath.” Her eyes looked towards the witcher who was already looking at her with a cocky smirk on his face, glad she was putting Jaskier in his place for the ugly outfit choice.

“I can take you to the seamstress later today, if you’d like Geralt.” Her smile was like a drug.

“I’d appreciate that m'lady.” He said softly.

“And I can show you around the city, both of you. But in return I would like to hear some of your stories, first hand if that’s doable.”

“That sounds like a reasonable trade.” Geralt quipped back.

“Then it's a date, Witcher.”

“A date it is.”

450 notes · View notes

bouncingkadachi · 3 years ago

Text

Blessed Rain

Summary: A Hunter’s weapon of choice says a lot about them. OR: Kyle upgrades his weaponry and gets caught red-handed in the act. Luckily (?) for him, only Tsukino seems to know exactly why he's having an emotional crisis over this.

Word count: 3,260

Note(s): set post-game

Also available on AO3!

Kyle’s had his new bow for a good couple of weeks before the feel of the limbs and the weight of the draw became comfortable enough for him to consider upgrading it. If he’s going to be injured, he reasons, he’d rather it be purely by way of monster and not because he pulls a muscle wrestling with a bow that hasn’t been properly broken in. His wallet despairs as he forks over the zenny, but this’ll hopefully let him take on some of the bigger hunts like the ones that Reverto goes on. It’ll all be worth the investment up front once he has his completely finished bow and restocked his coatings and finally drops the last of his coin on a couple new talismans.

He refuses to think about the implications of his reasoning with a literal coin, rolling it around and around his fingers as he pushes through the market throngs towards the smithy’s. Perhaps he ought to have a change of scenery—the fog-shrouded summits of Terga were said to be particularly beautiful at this time of year, and the heat in Lamure was becoming just shy of unbearable.

The final product that the blacksmith puts into his hands when he finally makes it to collect is nothing short of gorgeous. Blessed Rain is sleek where his old Rex bow was bulky, far lighter and certainly not as clunky. The upgrades on the riser gives the entire weapon a pleasant solidness in his hand, yet the delicately reinforced plating on the limbs doesn’t retract at all from its flexibility. The decorative grip protector gleams. Just looking at it makes Kyle excited to shoot.

“Bring her back if you’re finding that you need anything adjusted,” the smith tells him after Kyle’s diligently inspected every inch of the bow. “Kept the poundage the same for you, but added another inch to the draw length like you asked.”

“Thanks,” Kyle says. Eventually, he’d like to work up to the point where he can up the poundage again. Even just another five pounds would be good. He can do most of the hunts in his skill range alone now, but extra firepower would make him just that much more efficient, or that much of a better support for team hunts.

The smith laughs when Kyle sheepishly admits this. “Well, I always like to help a Hunter improve, and you know where to find me,” he says cheerily, clapping Kyle enthusiastically on the shoulder. “Come by again anytime if you need a tune up or want to test out something new.”

And with that, he waves Kyle away so that another Hunter can step up, holding a tired-looking sword and shield and looking equally exhausted. “Aye, rookie Hunter?” Kyle hears as he wanders off to find a more relaxed corner of the market in which to admire his new bow some more. “If you’ve got the materials I can repair and upgrade that for you.” The conversation peters out and melts into the general din of the marketplace as Kyle slips into the crowd, taking care to step out of the way of a Felyne carrying an absolutely massive basket groaning with produce. He watches the precarious load totter away, trying and failing to locate Tsukino in the brief respite the parted crowd affords him. They’d split earlier that morning and he hasn’t seen her since.

He still hasn’t managed to find even a whisker of Tsukino’s whereabouts by the time he settles into a decently quiet nook next to a stall selling all manner of spices. Pity, because the dappled light spilling through the colorful drapes of the marketplace catches so beautifully on the milky-white sheen of the bow, and he’d been looking forward to showing it to her. As a Hunter, Kyle will always care more about weapon practicality than aesthetics, but as a normal human being he certainly won’t turn down the opportunity to have both an aesthetically pleasing and perfectly functional weapon. He’s still grinning a little when he goes to strap the bow to his back, and it’s in the process of looking up that his gaze catches onto wide eyes staring plainly at him from across the street.

He freezes, arm suspended awkwardly halfway to sheathing. His beautiful bow glints damningly in the bright Lamure sunlight as his unexpected friend wades through the throngs of people towards him, gesturing for him to stay put with a wave of her hand that really can’t be mistaken for anything other than a greeting.

“Hey,” he says cautiously and lamely when she finally reaches him. Belatedly, he remembers to lower his arm. He is momentarily thankful that she doesn’t try to reach up for his face in the Mahanan greeting, although his goodwill evaporates when she leans in to inspect his bow, body thrumming with unexplainable anticipation.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” she says finally. Kyle can’t help himself from preening just a little, shifting his grip so that she can get a better look. After all, what was the point of spending all that money and materials if there was no one to excitedly show the end product off to? Besides, it’s been a while since they last saw each other. Last he heard, she had been traveling, keen to finally see the world on her own terms and at her own pace.

“It’s fresh off an upgrade,” he answers smugly. “Easier to handle than the Rex.”

“Slightly less intimidating though,” she chimes in, and Kyle bristles, not liking where this conversation is going. And true to form, she goes in for the kill: “Mizutsune? I recognize the plating.”

Kyle can feel the flush crawling up to his ears. Logically, he knows that there’s nothing for him to be embarrassed about. It’s a mark of good smithing that one can tell at a glance which monster a weapon was inspired by, and a Mizutsune was both powerful and extremely iconic. This bow in particular had good stats and the ability to fire rapidly, which admittedly took him some time to get used to after focusing mostly on piercing shots. The paralysis coating that works so well on this bow has also already saved his skin on more than one occasion. There is little more a career Hunter can ask for out of his weapon. It’s not like he’d been heading out to Pomore Garden at any given opportunity and holding onto an increasing multitude of Mizutsune materials just because he wanted some physical reminder of what was probably the most pivotal moment of his life, something that never failed to put a very complicated and jumbled mess of emotions deep within his chest whenever he thought back to it.

He’s starting to feel very, very hot under his collar. The sun is terrible. He resolves that his next big hunt really needs to be somewhere outside of Lamure.

His friend, however, just looks more and more baffled as he launches into an unprompted defense of his newest purchase. Every time she opens her mouth, Kyle talks a little faster. Eventually, she doesn’t even bother trying to interject, which is arguably worse, because instead she just looks progressively more and more thoughtful. Kyle wished desperately for Tsukino to peel away from whatever hidey hole she was tucked in. Then, his train of thought screeches into a rude and abrupt halt.

“What,” he croaks. “What are you doing.”

One of her brows quirks up. “I sure hope your eyes are still working because that’d be a detriment to your job,” she says plainly. “What does it look like I’m doing? I promise it’s not a trick question.”

What she’s doing is holding Kyle’s hand—the one not clutching his new bow—the one that had apparently been waving about with increasing agitation as he jabbered on and on. What Kyle doesn’t understand is why. It’s not like he just did some impressive shot to give them the edge in a battle or anything else that was cool and hand-holding worthy. He’d just been yammering about bow mechanics, and maybe embarrassingly dipping into his talisman hopes and dreams. He stares a little helplessly at his trapped hand. Her kinship stone winks up at him.

“Look,” she says patiently, when it becomes very clear that Kyle is going to need a moment before he can get his brain back online. “There’s nothing wrong with a bow made from Mizutsune parts and I am the last person who will ever turn down pretty things. What I was going to say was that this is an interesting departure from your whole—” She pauses, as though looking for a specific word. “Well, your whole image as a very grown-up and serious and intimidating Hunter or whatever it was you were trying to convey with that scowl you used to like so much. And you weren’t letting me get a single word in.”

“You’re getting plenty of words in now,” Kyle scowls, just to be contrary. “And I’ve grown since then.”

“Someone’s in a mood today.” She smiles, crinkle-eyed, up at him. Kyle very seriously debates wrenching his hand out of her hold like he did the last time this happened and then pointedly doesn’t act on the impulse.

“Why’re you in Lulucion?” he asks instead with a truly remarkable level of self-restraint. “Thought you’d never want to come back again after what happened.”

She shrugs, the greatsword on her back heaving with the movement. “Guess I’ve grown too,” she says loftily, though she sobers quickly. “I was actually visiting my grandfather. He used to go back to Mahana around this time of year… he can’t do it anymore of course but I’ve got Ratha now, so I figured I could do it instead. And then I figured I’d stop by Rutoh before going home, to see Ena and Alwin and wheedle a few more stories out of them.”

She lets go of Kyle’s hand. He tries not to miss it. “Even Ratha can’t make the trip in one go, and Lulucion was closest, so we’re stopping to rest. I dropped by the Scrivener’s Lodge earlier because I was hoping Reverto could give me a few weapon pointers as I’ve saved up just about enough for an upgrade, but they told me that he was out on an urgent mission and wouldn’t be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Kyle says, a little stung that she hadn’t come specifically to see him first, out of all the Hunters in the city. He’s slightly mollified when she grins at him, though.

“And then I met Tsukino by the cannons. She said I could find you here, so here I am.”

“I don’t know anything about greatswords,” Kyle blurts out, and immediately wants to kick himself. She blinks at him, and then bursts into laughter.

“I was just going to ask the smith,” she wheezes when she’s got herself somewhat back under control. “Can’t I see a friend just to say hi to him anymore?” Kyle stares very intently down at some of the finer detailing on his bow.

“Where is my Palico anyway?” he finally settles on, falling into a tried and true grumble. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

She waves her hand vaguely in the air. “Navirou said something about getting donuts. I wasn’t really listening.”

But there was a donut stand right here in the marketplace, Kyle wanted to cry out. He should have seen Tsukino by now if they’d really been going to buy snacks! And how was it possible that he had missed Navirou in his entirety, between the Felyne’s penchant for wearing ridiculous little outfits and his inability to shut up?

“Why? You have a hunt you need to run off to?”

“Yes,” Kyle says hotly. It’s a lie. He’d accepted a subquest that wouldn’t depart until later that evening for the sole purpose of testing out his new weapon in a relatively stress-free environment. Before that, he’d just planned on hitting up the shooting range in the training arena to break in the new string. His schedule was very, very free. Tsukino was perfectly aware of that.

His eyes widened. Tsukino had been with him on every excursion into the Gardens. She went where he did (usually), and it’s not like Kyle would ever begrudge her a visit home. But she’d been with him every step of every single Mizutsune job he’d ever taken—had watched him craft traps when he needed to capture and had kept watch for opportunists hoping to sneak up as he’d carved. She’d been the one who’d recommended the spinner for all the excess purplefur he was ending up with. At first, he’d simply thought that she’d wanted the thread to mend some of her own items, or to send back home to her brethren, but instead she’d tucked each skein of vibrant, silk-soft thread into the bottom of his pouch with gentle paws, cryptically talking about how strong a material it was, and how nice it looked when woven. Kyle has never touched a loom in his life, but now he’s looking at someone who he definitely knows has.

His stomach drops. Hadn’t Tsukino looked particularly smug ever since he’d lingered on the blueprints for Blessed Rain after getting a look at its stats and required materials?

“She got me,” he groans. His friend just looks at him bemusedly, though perhaps with a touch of wariness at his ferocious frown. Hastily, he tacks on: “It’s nothing. I, uh—I just remembered that I needed to tell Tsukino something. Important. Later, when I find her again.”

“Alright,” she says, though she doesn’t quite look like she believes him. “A quest’s a quest, though, so I won’t keep you here. The bow really is pretty though. I know I just said it doesn’t match your image and all but I really don’t think you can go wrong with something you like. You’ve got the skills for it, anyway.”

“Thanks,” he croaks, feeling a little overwhelmed. He manages two whole steps out of the nook before he pauses, worrying at his lower lip. “Actually,” he says sharply, spinning around on his heel and nearly causing his friend to startle right into a spice display. “How long are you staying for?”

“However long it’ll take to upgrade my sword, I guess,” she says after she collects herself, the words lilting into a question. “Three days or so, I guess?” She skirts nervously away from the glaring vendor, careful not to overbalance on her greatsword.

“Cool,” Kyle says with a nod, steeling himself. “Great, even. Look, how about this. Your last visit to Lulucion was terrible—” an understatement, “—so when I get back from my hunt I’ll show you some of the better sights Lulucion has to offer. There’s a hole in the wall that I think you’ll like. Dad used to take me after hunts—they grill really nice queen shrimp. And the parapets—you can climb them, and they’ve got all these little carvings in the stone that you can search for like a scavenger hunt.” He’s keenly aware that he’s rambling again, but she looks interested, so he barrels on. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow just as soon as I can get a nap in. We can stay in the city or take Ratha out to the Barrens, down by the water. Just make a day of it.” He’s pretty certain that he looks at her with something akin to hope as she considers. It feels like a lifetime before she finally comes to a decision.

“I want to take Ratha out in the evening,” she says finally. “I don’t want him to be cooped up too long here ever again.”

“Yeah,” Kyle breathes out, the word rushing out of him in a flood of relief. “Yeah, I can work around that.” She beams at him.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she says, sincere and looking more than a little surprised despite herself at the prospect of looking forward to doing anything in Lulucion. “I’m staying at the inn closest to the stables. Pretty sure I’m the only Rider there currently so they’ll know who I am.” Kyle nods, and lets himself get his hand squeezed again, though not without her hands first hovering in an instinctual bid for his cheeks before she remembers herself.

“Good luck on your hunt. If I see Tsukino I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“She’ll show up in due time,” he mutters darkly. “I’ll let you know if Reverto gets back early or if he’s just been loafing around this entire time. For your next upgrade or whatever.” She laughs, bright, and then slips off into the crowd to wrestle her way into the smithy’s queue. Kyle is left staring in her wake before his gaze is drawn back down to his bow.

“This is all your fault,” he tells it. Predictably, it doesn’t answer. Also predictably, Tsukino takes that exact moment to drop down from seemingly nowhere.

“I didn’t know we had another job lined up,” the Felyne says delicately, carefully brushing crumbs off of her coat. Kyle groans, sheathing his weapon.

“Don’t tease me,” he huffs. “I’m going to the shooting range. Are you coming?”

“Hmm,” says Tsukino. “I suppose I can spare the time.”

“Of course you can spare the time!” Kyle hisses, indignant. “You just spent the day eating donuts and eavesdropping!” He pointedly doesn’t look towards the smithy, where his friend was patiently browsing the display while another Hunter was getting their hammer looked at.

“One must always be prepared with the latest intel,” Tsukino says mildly. “I’m glad the upgrade went well.”

“It’s got good stats,” Kyle protests weakly in what is quickly becoming a tired argument. “The rapid shots have been going very well. And I had a surplus of Mizutsune parts.”

“Yes,” his hunting partner agrees readily enough. “Have you thought of what you’re going to do with the thread?”

“This conversation is finished,” Kyle says abruptly, making a very determined push towards the market’s exit. “Either come or don’t, so long as we meet at the gate for tonight’s hunt.”

Tsukino looks at him with exasperated fondness, which is frankly a little insulting, but readily falls into step next to him. Kyle wonders how many rounds he’s going to have to shoot in order to clear his head again and rid it of thoughts of Hazepetal Garden or Mizutsune or high-grade thread that he’ll never use himself. He’ll examine them again someday—because he’s not a coward—but that day is most certainly not today.

He does his rounds in the training arena and marvels at the way the string slides off his fingers with a satisfying twang, even though it’ll still be a good few days before it’s fully broken in to his liking. Tsukino’s saved him a donut, the cakey sweet sticky with honey and practically melting in his mouth. He’s got some free time even after stocking up for the evening hunt, so he takes a few minutes to browse the quest board, taking careful note of the jobs that were situated near the Harzgai Rocky Hill, or the ones from further afield in Alcala that’ll take him closer to Rutoh. And when he leaves the city, he pointedly doesn’t look up at the familiar shape circling in the dusky sky, even as he knows that they’ll surely see the last rays of the setting sun winking off of the plates of his bow like a beacon.

#was anyone going to tell me that HR Kyle gets a MIZU BOW #You were just going to withhold this vital piece of information from me?#anyway here's 3k words about the significance of Mizutsune to one (1) boy that I love #I wrote this specifically with my idiot in mind #but asides from the gender and a few other lines I guess you can generalize to any other Rider #monster hunter kyle #monster hunter stories 2 #Annie writes

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frostedfaves · 4 years ago

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Repercussions (14)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: The day to escape has come, and you push your feelings aside to get the job done.

Warnings: dark themes, brief injury mention

A/N: I’m planning on making part 15 the ending (which feels crazy to say!!), but if it turns out to be outrageously long, I’ll split it into two parts. also the book I mentioned is by Aleatha Romig, and I think I may order it to read! it seems like it’s much darker than this story, so please be warned of that if you also decide to give it a chance! anyway, can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

Previous part

You blinked slowly as you were unwillingly brought to consciousness by the sound of your iPad ringing again. For a moment you sat there, surprising yourself when tears filled your eyes. Sure, you’d had some good moments with your girlfriends despite all the manipulation, but were you really going to miss being held captive?

Deciding not to debate the subject with yourself, you quickly wiped your eyes before rolling over to answer the Facetime call. You were met with the connecting screen and then their beaming faces replaced yours, and a sleepy smile was painted on your features as you realized they were also lying in bed.

“You sure don’t let a girl sleep in, huh?” you teased in a raspy tone, clearing your throat immediately.

“Sorry!” Wanda laughed. “We just wanted to see you before we went to sleep.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Natasha interjected with a frown. “You sound different.”

“I’m fine, just need some water.” You stood with the iPad in your hand, placing it on the bed for a moment while you slipped your robe on. “I don’t know if you remember, but the two of you had me screaming last night.”

“No, we remember very well.”

“Hi, Wesley!” Wanda called as he came into view after pulling the sheets up higher over herself and Natasha.

“Oh, hey guys!”

You handed the device over to him as you walked around him to get water from the fridge, smiling as you overheard his question about the trip and your girlfriends’ enthusiastic responses. Part of you wished this was normal, that your cousin was just visiting while they were out of town and not playing the double role of babysitter for them and partner in crime for you, but you shook the thought away as you were handed the iPad again.

“Good news, printsessa. We should be home in three days instead of five,” Natasha told you with a grin and you gasped.

“Wow, really? That’s amazing! Although I wouldn’t mind if you could come sooner, because I’m getting kind of bored with Wes.” Your sigh turned into laughter as he playfully shoved you.

“Be nice, baby,” Wanda teased with a giggle that was quickly followed by a yawn. “Alright, get some breakfast and we’ll get some sleep.”

“Okay! Text me when you wake up.”

“Of course, printsessa. We love you.”

“Love you too,” you offered with a smile and wave, releasing a deep breath when the call ended.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered through another sigh. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re actually falling in love with them, aren’t you?”

“Probably.” You dropped the iPad on the table and stepped back to lean against the sink. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not backing out.”

“As long as you’re sure.” He hands you a plate of pancakes with a sympathetic smile. “I talked to Kendall and the safe house is all set up, just waiting for our arrival. Also wrote down all my contacts and erased everything from my phone and trashed it.”

“We can pack the food after I have a shower,” you added after swallowing a bite of food. “That’ll give them time to fall asleep. Then we can put everything in the car and get the security system disarmed.”

“I’m surprised you’re able to eat right now. I know how nervous you are about this going well.”

You paused with another forkful of pancakes held to your lips, simply shrugging in response. “Turns out I’m a pretty good actress.”

As soon as you were dressed you ducked into a camera free zone, checking your device and sighing in relief when you heard their light snores. You wasted no time in making sure you weren’t missing anything in your bag and tucked your burner phone in your pocket as you made your way downstairs.

“They’re asleep,” you announced as you entered the kitchen, stepping over to the counter where Wesley was sorting food into another bag.

“Okay, I’m almost done. I’m only packing snacks from the pantry. We’ll just have to wait until we’re done driving to have a meal. I have bottled water in the car.”

The two of you worked quickly to grab what you could and placed the food and your own personal bags into the backseat before coming back inside and heading to the basement. Wesley picked the lock of the security room and led you inside, and your mouths fell open at the sight. It was bigger than expected, one area of the room dedicated to surveillance of the house and surrounding land, and the other part more of an office area used for mission related things.

Once you’d gotten into the security system, a password protected screen popped up and you took a moment to really think about what it could possibly be. Your mind raced back to the first meeting, first date and any other first that followed, trying not to linger too long on the happier moments.

“What do you think it is?” Wesley finally questioned after a minute of silence.

“Try ‘consequences’.”

A mixture of pride and nausea stirred inside you when you were immediately granted access, but you focused on disabling the security system, jumping to your feet when the two minute timer started. You dropped the tracker on the table before you ran out and got into the car, driving through the gate mere seconds before it began to close. Wesley pulled over to change the license plates once you were a safe enough distance away from the house, and then you were on your way to your new safe home, deep in the middle of Nebraska.

“I have a question,” Wesley broke the silence an hour later, and you turned away from the road to give him your attention. “How did you know the password?”

“It’s the name of the book Natasha was holding when she asked me out. The main character meets a man after work that takes her out to dinner and then kidnaps her, and I don’t know if she knew that when she picked it up or if the summary alone gave her the idea but…It’s just so fucking similar to what they put me through and I just--”

A shiver rippled through you as you allowed your anxiety to take over for a moment, and Wesley was quick to grab your trembling hand in his.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s over now,” he assured you calmly and you exhaled a shuddering breath as you closed your eyes.

“I really hope you’re right.”

On the other side of the world, Natasha and Wanda were just waking up from their night of slumber, and Wanda was quick to grab her phone and text you while the woman beside her stretched and yawned.

“What are you up to?”

“Just letting printsessa know we’re awake now.” Wanda put the phone down with a sigh. “Is it bad that I want to retire soon just so I can go back to waking up next to her everyday?”

“Not at all,” Natasha chuckled lightly, running her palm along her bare spine. “The last mission I went on alone, I could barely sleep. It felt like a piece of me was missing.”

“Heading out in half an hour!”

The two women faced each other as Steve’s voice came through the door, playfully rolling their eyes and sharing knowing smiles as they begrudgingly climbed out of bed.

Unfortunately for them, they didn’t return to their room again until nearly midnight, midafternoon for you, after just barely escaping the base they infiltrated and making tons of detours to ensure they weren’t followed to the safe house. Once everyone’s injuries were tended to, Natasha and Wanda broke away to shower and collapse onto the bed once they were done.

“Tash,” Wanda began, lifting her head to reveal a concerned expression. “Printsessa didn’t text back. She didn’t even open the message.”

“What?”

Natasha comes closer to take the phone, checking for herself and feeling a panic rise in her chest immediately. She quickly switched over the check the live camera footage, and a mix between fear and anger swirled around inside her when she didn’t spot you or Wesley in any of the rooms.

“Fuck!”

“Nat, what’s going on?” Clint questions as he stops in the doorway, noticing the tears beginning to spill down Wanda’s cheeks.

“Get in here and close the door. We have a problem.”

Tags: @littlegasps @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @nat-km-mh @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @cherrieloco @seventeen0 @creepingwolfberry @emilyprentisswife @bebe404 @becka107 @fayhar @messuhp @mjaudrey @sxphiaswitch @muted-stoneheart @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @wannabe-fic-reader @trikruismybitch @beforeoursecrets @cosmicbrownies7 @just-a-normalpersons @multi-images @want-to-watch-it-burn @stop-drop-and-drumroll @witchxaf @natashadeservedmore @haiiiloooe2 @darkangelxoxo @sakurat123

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fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

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Two Birds [Part Two]

Read Two Birds on AO3

Masterlist [All Works]

Masterlist [Two Birds Series]

For Maribat March Day 31 - Reunion

The school trip to Gotham was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a reward to the class, a celebration of the recent defeat of Hawkmoth by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marinette wanted to celebrate. She really didn't want to cry on the trip. Yet, as the plane touched down in Gotham, Marinette was staring out the plane window at the rain and the setting sun, rubbing her eyes, trying her best to brush away the tears before they formed.

"Are you okay, Marinette?" Alya looked over at Marinette, concern visible on her face.

Marinette nodded weakly, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. "I'm fine. I just... I have some bad memories associated with Gotham. One of my childhood friends... his parents were murdered on a trip to Gotham and I lost contact with him after that. It's always been a very raw subject for me."

Alya opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, Lila leaned across the aisle to interrupt the conversation. "Your childhood friend's parents were murdered on a trip to Gotham? It's okay to admit that you're scared of Gotham because of the supervillains. You don't have to come up with some outlandish story for why you're upset."

Marinette glared over at Lila, her eyes shiny from both her tears and her anger. "I wasn't talking to you, Lila, but for your information, I'm not making up a story. I wouldn't lie about the death of my friend's parents. I hate liars."

Lila flinched back, her eyes wide and innocent. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that you could tell the truth. We wouldn't judge you for it."

Alya frowned, giving Lila a stern look. "Lila, Marinette is seriously upset. I don't think that this is the right time to lecture her."

"Oh, of course." As soon as Alya turned away from her, Lila's expression was murderous. Marinette could care less. She turned away and ignored Lila, not in the mood to deal with the liar's taunts. If she could just hold back her tears until they got off the plane, maybe she could pretend that it was the rain that was making her face wet.

It took an hour to get from the plane to the hotel room, and that hour was torture for Marinette, who spent the entire journey holding back tears. As soon as Alya shut the door to their hotel room with a click, Marinette finally let herself cry, curling up into a ball on the hotel bed.

Marinette felt Alya wrapped her arms around her in a hug. "I've got you, Marinette. It'll be okay."

Marinette didn't know how long she cried for. All she knew was that when the tears finally stopped, the sky had gone dark outside. "What time is it?"

"It's a little past eight. I texted Nino to tell Ms. Bustier that you weren't feeling well, so she won't be bothering you with any class president duties tonight."

"Thanks." Marinette shifted herself from lying on her side to sitting up. "Have I ever told you what happened to Dick?"

Alya shook her head. "You've mentioned him a few times, but only that you two were friends when you were younger, and then lost touch."

Marinette sighed. "It all started when I was nine years old. My Grandma Gina was babysitting me for the weekend. She was old friends with the ringmaster of a circus that was in Paris, so she took me there to stay the weekend. That was where I met Dick and his parents..."

Marinette told the story in bursts, stopping to cry every few minutes when she got too emotional to continue. "...And I never spoke to him again after that. Gotham's foster care records aren't open to the public, and I stopped myself from Googling his name a long time ago. It just hurts too much to get my hopes up."

Alya wrapped Marinette up in another hug. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I wish there was something I could do to make this better."

"I think this trip might be good for me. It hurts a lot now, but I think once it's over I might finally feel a little more at peace."

"I hope so. But if there's ever any time where you need to just stop and let it all out, I'll be there for you."

"Thanks, Alya. You're the best."

Alya was Marinette's best friend, even if Alya was friends with Lila as well. That was Marinette's one regret - when she unmasked Hawkmoth and Mayura as Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancour, there was no way to unmask Lila as a liar as well. Gabriel refused to name Lila as an accomplice, aware that admitting to having manipulated a teen girl into performing acts of terrorism wouldn't look good for him. So Lila was free to continue her reign of terror, though at least now Marinette could be rightfully angry with her, without fear of being akumatized.

----------

The class trip was partially sponsored by the Wayne Scholarship Foundation. Usually, the Wayne Scholarship Foundation only awarded scholarships, given to students all across America to pay for college, but after Hawkmoth's defeat and the media coverage that followed, a rather large sum was awarded to Marinette’s class for their bravery on the front lines of Hawkmoths' attacks. The Wayne Foundation organized tours and shows for them all over the city, starting with a tour of the Martha Wayne Memorial Botanical Gardens bright and early on the first morning of their trip. Then the class would go on a walking tour of Gotham during the afternoon, ending at a high-end sushi restaurant for dinner, followed by a night exploring East Hills Park during one of their famous firework shows. The late May day promised to be warm and sunny, so Marinette put on her favorite red floral sundress with a jean jacket overtop to hide the thin spaghetti straps, and sturdy tennis shoes to handle all of the walking she would be doing.

"Marinette!" gasped Lila as soon as Alya and Marinette walked into the main lobby. "Are you sure that your outfit is dress-code approved?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Yes, Lila. With my jacket on, this fits the dress code. I wouldn't make something that I can't wear."

"Okay. I was just checking. Your dress seemed a little too short to me, but I guess I just prefer something more modest."

As Lila walked away, Alya placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder in comfort. "I'm sure Lila didn't mean to come off as slut-shaming. I think she's just lashing out because wants to make sure you don't get in trouble for your outfit." Even Alya sounded uncertain of her explanation, as not even she believed herself. Without the support of Hawkmoth, Lila was no longer a cunning and calculated mastermind of manipulation. Now she was just a scared bully, desperately doing whatever she could to maintain her power over the class.

"Whatever," Marinette sighed. "I won't let her ruin my trip."

"That's the spirit. Besides, anyone with taste would know that your outfit looks super cute.”

Marinette smirked. "Are you saying that you don't think Lila has taste?"

"Definitely not as much taste as you. You're the Queen of Fashion Trends. You always look good." Alya put her arm around Marinette's shoulder. "Plus, you know better than to wear cowboy boots to school."

Marinette giggled as she remembered the incident. Lila came to school showing off her 'authentic' cowboy boots from America, seemingly unaware that they were the ugliest shoes anyone in their class had ever seen.

"You'll have a great day today, I promise." Alya walked with Marinette to the bus waiting outside. They got a seat up near the front, by Nino and Adrien.

Adrien had been the most affected by Hawkmoth's unmasking, given that it revealed his Father as a terrorist and his Mother as a coma-patient. All seemed lost for Adrien, as a team of Paris's best doctors revealed that Emilie Agreste was braid-dead. They planned on pulling the plug on Emilie's life support until, Amelie Graham de Vanily revealed that by combining the twin rings she and her sister owned with Ladybug's power of creation, together they had the power to bring Emilie back to life. Marinette was skeptical, after all, Amelie seemed to have ulterior motives in everything she did, but how could Marinette refuse when it was the only thing that she could do to help Adrien. In the end, she decided to help, no matter the consequences. Miraculously, it worked. Emilie was brought back to life and Adrien had a mother again.

However, in the aftermath of her decision, Marinette realized one crucial detail. In all of the chaos of deciding whether or not to work with Amelie, when she based her final decision on Adrien, she did it because he was her friend, not because he was her crush. At that moment, she realized that the overwhelming crush she had on Adrien since the age of thirteen had faded. In its place was a beautiful friendship.

"Good morning," chirped Adrien.

"What's up, dudes?" chimed in Nino.

"I can't believe we're here in Gotham. I thought our class trip to London was cool, but this is just incredible. I can't believe that the Wayne Foundation organized all of this for us," Alya gushed.

Marinette smiled. She knew that her friends deserved the vacation. Alya, Nino, and Adrien (though his involvement as Aspik was brief) all helped in the fight against Hawkmoth, even though they never revealed their superhero identities to each other. "What are you all most excited about?"

"I can't wait to see the Superhero Museum," said Alya. "I can't believe we were invited to the ribbon-cutting ceremony of the new exhibition."

"It is a celebration of the defeat of Hawkmoth. I suppose they wanted some real Parisians there to see it."

"I'm excited for Super: an American Musical, with the original cast. Did you guys know that this is their last week in Gotham before the show starts on Broadway!" Nino cheered.

Marinette smiled. "That is cool. I've heard that it's a fan favorite to win a Tony this year."

When all eyes landed on Adrien to answer the question, he shrugged. "I just want to experience everything. And take a lot of pictures. I promised my Mom that I would send her some."

"How about we take one now?" Marinette suggested.

Adrien nodded and the group of friends squeezed together to take a selfie.

"How about you, Marinette?"

"The Wayne Foundation Fundraising Gala," Marinette answered promptly. "It's one of the most influential events in fashion. I've heard that celebrities wear their second-best outfits to the Met Gala and save their best for the Wayne Gala. I know that the Wayne Foundation is paying for a shopping trip to pick out an outfit for the Gala, but I made my dress own and brought it here."

Alya laughed. "I should have guessed."

Marinette smiled sheepishly. "I couldn't resist. This is the first opportunity I've had to wear my newest creation."

"Do you have pictures of it?" asked Adrien.

Marinette shook her head. "I'm not showing anyone until the Gala. I'm keeping it safe in my room. I don't want to jinx anything."

"Hawkmoth is gone. We're in Gotham, living it up. Life is good." Alya summarized, and the whole group chimed in their agreement. Life was good.

----------

"Is everything in this city named after the Waynes?" asked Nino as they stepped off the bus in from of the Martha Wayne Memorial Botanical Gardens.

"The Waynes are one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Gotham. When you're that rich, life is just a game of buying your name onto as many buildings as possible," Adrien answered.

"The Waynes and their extraordinary money are the reason why we're here, so I'm willing to forgo making fun of everything they put their name on," Alya decided.

Once they got through the doors to the Botanical Garden, Marinette was entranced. Flowers of every shade surrounded her, the sound of rushing water and the rustling of leaves was the only thing she could hear, the smell of pollen and fresh air filled her lungs. It was heavenly.

"I'm Olivia, but you can all call me Liv," spoke the blonde tour guide as she approached the class. "I'll be giving you a tour of the Botanical Gardens, the largest sanctuary for endangered plants in New Jersey. We're known especially for our orchid garden, which we'll walk through at the end of our tour."

As the tour continued, Marinette noticed that one hallway was blocked off by a sign reading: Hydrangea Exhibition Coming This Fall.

Liv pointed out the hallway. "Down that hallway is the upcoming Hydrangea Exhibition, which is replacing the old New Jersey Wildflower exhibit. Now, I know you're all from out of town, but if you're even in Gotham again, make sure you check out the Botanical Gardens. We're always getting new exhibits-"

Liv was cut off by the sound of shattering glass. One of the panes of glass making up the room had been shattered, and shards rained down on screaming tourists. Marinette's eyes widened as she recognized Poison Ivy, lowering herself through the now opened ceiling on her vines. "You thought you could destroy the native vegetation of this city and get away with it? Nothing escapes my notice. Now, I would like to have a little chat with whoever's in charge here."

Liv motioned for all the students to get down, whispering, "As long as we stay out of Poison Ivy's way, we'll be perfectly fine. Just stay calm and stay quiet."

Marinette watched as the Director of the Botanical Gardens came out to reason with Poison Ivy. He pleaded with the villain, "We won't destroy any of the wildflower gardens, I swear. I'll make sure myself that the wildflower exhibit will be moved to public parks all across Gotham."

Poison Ivy shook her head. "That's not good enough. You think you can wash your hands of these flowers so long as someone else offers to take them? How long do you think the wildflower gardens will last without any sort of protection?"

"We'll make sure that the gardens are protected, I promise."

Narrowing her eyes, Poison Ivy gave the Director a cruel smile. "I hope for your sake, Mr. Joseph Hoffman of 524 Shelton Avenue, that nothing happens to those flowers. Otherwise..." Poison Ivy let the threat hang in the air, using her vines to ascend back up to the ceiling.

The next few moments were so chaotic and full of movement that Marinette couldn't quite piece together what had happened. All she knew was that one second Poison Ivy was leaving the way she came and the next second, Batman and Robin were facing her down in the middle of the Botanical Gardens.

"Oh, hello Batman, Robin. It's so nice to see you. I was just leaving though, so unless you want to fight me where all these plants - and civilians, I suppose - could get hurt, I would step out of my way."

"Poison Ivy, we both know that I can't just let you go free after you threatened this man's life."

Poison Ivy sighed dramatically. "Oh well, I gave you a chance. Now it looks like I'll have to start getting civilians involved. The villain's eyes panned over the room, her eyes just happening to make contact with Marinette's for a split second before Marinette looked away. But that split second was enough. Marinette felt vines start to wrap around her forearms, yanking her forward.

Marinette was pulled all the way over to Poison Ivy, Batman, and Robin, until she was stopped in between the villain and heroes. "What's your name?" Poison Ivy asked, a menacing smile on her face.

"M-Marinette," she stuttered out, eyes wide.

Batman's expression was stoic and unyielding, while Robin looked at her with wide, stunned eyes. Batman spoke, "Why don't we move this outside where no one - plants or civilians - will get hurt."

Poison Ivy nodded. "I will require a head start, though, so I'll keep my vines wrapped around Marinette's throat. As soon as I'm out of range the vines will go slack and she'll be able to go on with her day. However, if you start to come after me before then, I'll tighten my vines and poor little Marinette might not make it."

Marinette stiffened as the vines grew around her throat, just loose enough for her to take shallow breaths. Poison Ivy disappeared from view, but Marinette continued to stay perfectly still, desperately trying to slow her breathing before she hyperventilated. No one made a move toward Marinette, no one willing to risk the consequences of making a move while Poison Ivy could still control the vines.

After what felt like hours, but was really only about five minutes, the vines relaxed and fell to the floor. Marinette collapsed to the ground, lowering herself into the seated position so she could breathe a little bit easier.

"Are you alright?" asked Robin, kneeling next to her. "Are you having any trouble breathing?"

"I'm okay. I didn't get hurt. I was just scared."

Robin got up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. "Why don't we get you back with the rest of your group. Are you here with your family?"

Marinette shook her head. "I'm here on a school trip."

Robin walked Marinette over to her class, handing her off to Ms. Bustier, who let out a sigh of relief as she gently placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder. "I know that was a very scary situation, Marinette. If you would like, I can take you and Alya back to the hotel."

"No way!" protested Marinette. "I didn't even get hurt. Plus, we have the walking tour of Gotham today. I don't want to miss it."

"Are you sure?" Ms. Bustier glanced over toward Batman.

Batman joined the conversation, saying, "If Marinette prefers to continue her day as normal, then I would advise following Marinette's lead. Often, the best way to recover from an encounter with a villain is to go on with your life as normal."

Marinette nodded. "I want to stay with the rest of the class and go on with our day."

Ms. Bustier still looked hesitant but conceded anyway. "Alright. I think our tour of the Botanical Gardens is over, though. I doubt that they would let us continue, what with shattered glass all over the floors."

Liv led the group out of the building, commenting with a sigh, "It's a shame that Poison Ivy came and ruined the tour. The orchid garden is such an amazing exhibit, and now none of you will get to see it. Unless..." Liv glanced around. "There's no broken glass in the orchid garden, so I don't suppose why we couldn't leave the Botanical Garden through the side-exit past the orchid garden. What do you say, Marinette?"

Marinette smiled. "That sounds wonderful."

As the tour group turned to enter one of the hallways branching off of the main room, Marinette glanced behind her one last time. She made eye contact with Robin, who was watching her leave, an expression of wonder on his face. Marinette turned back around self-consciously rubbing the back of her neck. She wasn't sure why Robin looked at her like that. It wasn't a look that one would give a stranger, and yet they had never met before. Marinette thought it was odd, but the thought was gone from her mind as soon as her class entered the orchid garden. I'm here in Gotham for a week to have fun, she reminded herself, so no more investigating every strange occurrence.

----------

The walking tour of Gotham was just as fun and informative as Marinette anticipated, packed with interesting facts and amazing sights. She got a bunch of high-quality pictures of Gotham, good for putting in the blog post that Marinette (as class president) was in charge of putting together to go on the school website. Best of all, Lila didn't bother her for the whole tour. Even Lila knew that she couldn't bully Marinette and get away with it, after what Marinette had been through the morning.

The sushi restaurant was amazing too. Marinette had eaten sushi a few times before, but never anything as high-quality as what was served in the restaurant. Marinette decided that if this was what a field trip funded by the Wayne Foundation was like, then she was incredibly excited for the week to come.

Aside from the unfortunate interruption at the Botanical Garden, the day was perfect. Yet, Marinette couldn't stop thinking about the strange look on Robin's face. Had she done something wrong? Was she really safe from Poison Ivy? The thoughts lingered in her head, pestering her every time she felt safe and content.

"Listen up, class!" called out Ms. Bustier. "You'll all have exactly two hours to explore East Hills Park. The firework show starts in approximately half an hour, and ends half an hour before you have to meet up here, which should give you plenty enough time."

Marinette followed Adrien, Alya, and Nino off the bus and into the park. The group of friends started to explore the park, stumbling upon the statues and fountains that were scattered about the grounds.

"I found another Wayne!" Nino shouted from a few meters away. "This statue was dedicated to Patrick Wayne, who was Mayor of Gotham City - this was before they changed the name to just Gotham - from 1896-1904. His most notable achievement from his time in office was that he built over thirty new schools and eleven new library buildings in the city. He was known for his dedication to educating the City of Gotham."

It had become an inside joke between the group to try and find as many things in Gotham named after the Waynes as they could. The task turned out to be much less difficult than they had anticipated, so the group quickly switched tactics and began looking up the various Waynes to see what they actually did with their lives, to determine whether they deserved their names on the various buildings and statues of Gotham.

"He actually sounds like he deserved a statue," said Adrien, looking down at his phone at the Wikipedia article he had pulled up. "Not like Augustus Wayne, who never had a job and gambled away nearly a quarter of the Wayne fortune, yet still has a bridge and a fountain in this park named after him."

Marinette chimed in, "My favorite is Georgiana Wayne. Apparently, a reporter was harassing her over the fact that she was a divorcee and Theodore Wayne was her second husband, and she told that reporter to, quote, 'Fuck off, you lousy son of a bitch. If my husband doesn't mind that I am a divorcee, I don't see why you should.'"

"I wonder if she has any statues in the park," said Alya.

"I doubt it. Her Wikipedia article is only four paragraphs long."

Alya frowned. "That's a shame. Augustus Wayne does nothing of importance with his life and gets a whole bridge named after him, but Georgiana Wayne is a total badass in the 1920s and gets nothing."

"We'll have to bring it up with Bruce Wayne at the fundraising Gala," joked Marinette.

"Good idea." Alya glanced down at her phone. "It's almost time for the fireworks show to start. According to the class groupchat, everyone is gathering on the south shore of the duck pond. There are benches there, and it should have a good view."

"I'll meet you guys there," said Marinette. "I just want to get a few more pictures before it gets too dark."

Marinette started taking pictures of the fountains and flowerbeds, wandering aimlessly through the park. She was busy getting the best angle to take a picture of a maple tree framed by the sunset when she bumped into someone walking behind her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry-" Marinette began to apologize, but as soon as she recognized just who she bumped into she was at a loss for words. "Dick?"

"Marinette?" Dick's voice was deeper than Marinette remembered, yet still hauntingly familiar. His wide blue eyes stared into hers.

Marinette couldn't hold it together. She burst into tears, launching herself into his arms. "Dick, I thought I would never see you again. What are you doing here?"

"I heard your name on the news when they were reporting about Poison Ivy's vandalism at the Botanical Gardens. I did a little googling and found out about your class trip. It took a little digging into the Wayne Foundation website, but I found the approved itinerary for the trip and decided to track you down at East Hills Park. I knew I had to see you again."

"You did that for me?" Overhead the fireworks started going off, extravagant flashes of color that Marinette ignored completely. She couldn't tear her eyes off of Dick. When she imagined her reunion with him, she never really considered that he would be all grown up. No longer was Dick the twelve-year-old boy that Marinette remembered from her childhood. Dick was now five years older and sixteen inches taller.

"Of course I did. Marinette, I've missed you so much."

"I tried to get back in contact with you but Gotham's CPS refused to release any information to me. I kept calling and calling but they wouldn't tell me anything." The tears returned with a vengeance, and Marinette started to sob. "I gave up on finding you and I'm so sorry."

"I don't blame you. You have to know I don't blame you. It's me who should be apologizing. I could have tracked you down but I never did."

Marinette sniffled. "Why didn't you?"

"I was a coward." Marinette opened her mouth to protest but Dick cut her off. "I was scared of losing another person I loved. I shut everyone out and by the time I was ready to let people in again, I was afraid that you wouldn't want to be a part of my life again."

"What made you change your mind?" asked Marinette.

"No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't forget you. It was stupid of me to think that I ever could in the first place. You were my best friend Marinette. You still are, if you'll have me."

Dick looked at her with such longing that Marinette knew she could never deny him. Her face softened. "Of course I will."

"Thank you." Dick held onto Marinette tighter.

Marinette closed her eyes and melted into his embrace. The fireworks show continued, bathing the park in beautiful colors, but Marinette felt no need to watch it. She knew that she already had the most beautiful thing in the park in her arms.

Taglist: @maribatmarch-2k21 @jayjayspixiepop @buginetye @ultimatetornshipper

#maribat #dickinette #maridick #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #dick grayson #miraculous ladybug fic #my work #MaribatMarch2021

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stiltonbasket · 4 years ago

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hi! i dont know if you've done something similar for renouncement verse but lwj getting baby rearing tips from lqr would be really cute uwu

(brief author’s note: please please reblog, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

Two weeks after Wei Shuilan’s full-moon party, Lan Xichen orders Wei Ying to get some fresh air and take a trip down to town with the juniors.

“I’m ordering it as your physician,” he scolds, as Lan Wangji kisses his husband’s forehead and slips a packed lunch into his qiankun bag, just in case Wei Ying doesn’t like any of the delicacies Caiyi has to offer; having A-Lan altered his sense of taste, among other things, and made him more partial to sweet and bitter flavors as well as spicy-sour ones. “You haven’t left the Cloud Recesses in months.”

“Xichen-ge,” Wei Ying says, rolling his eyes, “you try taking those stairs when you can barely fit through the door. Or fly in a straight line without overbalancing, for that matter.”

He has a point, Lan Wangji thinks. A-Lan is a very round baby, big enough for her age that some of the guests at the full-moon feast asked if they were holding the party late, and it had certainly showed on Wei Ying’s slender figure in the weeks before her arrival.

“Well, you ought to go now,” Lan Xichen urges. “It’s a wonderful day, and A-Lan’s asleep. Go stretch your legs, and then come back and rest as soon as you feel tired.”

So Wei Ying had gone, leaving the Cloud Recesses with a kiss for Lan Wangji before flying off on A-Yuan’s sword and vanishing into the cloudy mist hanging over the Caiyi River.

After that, Lan Wangji settles down in the jingshi to wait for his husband’s return, placing his baby daughter on the bed beside him and starting on the mountain of official correspondence he’s been neglecting since A-Lan was born. Most of them are congratulations and well-wishes for the baby, along with a select few (which Lan Wangji sets on fire the second he opens them) consoling the Chief Cultivator for the one child of his blood being a daughter, and assuring him that the next baby will surely be a boy.

Upon further reflection, Lan Wangji points a finger at the ashes in the hearth and incinerates them a second time. The thought of his little daughter ever facing anything but the honor and worship due to an empress sets his teeth on edge, and it takes only a moment of thinking until he decides to put off answering the guilty clan’s request for a second representative in Lanling’s council for as long as he can.

But unfortunately for him, the sound of the snapping fire jolts poor A-Lan awake, and she gives a soft, confused little gurgle before lifting her head and looking around. Lan Wangji lifts her into his lap, humming Wangxian beside her tiny ears as she begins to whimper—but his efforts are in vain, because the baby bursts into tears and refuses to stop crying no matter what he does to calm her.

“A-Lan,” he says, more than a little shocked—because he has never heard A-Lan cry like this, not since that first shrieking wail when she first found herself out in the world six weeks ago. But A-Lan keeps crying, even after he tries changing her smallclothes (needlessly, since her diaper was freshly changed when Wei Ying left the jingshi) and puts her in another blanket to keep her warm, and no amount of rocking or singing or even a cool bath proves useful in the slightest.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Lan Wangji asks urgently. “A-Lan, baobei—”

Shuilan only draws her tiny legs up to her chest and sobs, rubbing her fat fists into her eyes as if the whole universe was against her, and the realization hits Lan Wangji so suddenly that he nearly falls to the floor, baby and all.

“It’s because Wei Ying isn’t here,” he says wretchedly. “It is, isn’t it? You’re not sick, surely—he’s coming back, A-Bao. Don’t cry, your A-Die is coming back.”

But with such a little baby as A-Lan, how was she to know? All A-Lan knew was that she spent the first ten moons of her life safe inside Wei Ying, listening to his precious heartbeat and kicking out at his affectionate touches when he tried to feel for her head or her hands, and then she was in his arms instead, but still never so far away from him that she could not hear his voice. And now Wei Ying is gone, and A-Lan has rightfully taken his absence for the calamity that it is.

Lan Wangji remembers his sixteen years of mourning after Wei Ying fell from his grasp and plunged to his death in Qishan, and wonders how frightened Shuilan must be that Wei Ying has disappeared without any explanation her infant mind can understand. Neither of them have left her side since she was born, so for one of her parents to disappear without explanation, and for it to be Wei Ying who had disappeared—

He nearly bursts into tears himself, just thinking about it.

Naturally, it is at that moment—with half of Lan Wangji’s layers sliding off his shoulders, A-Lan screaming herself hoarse, and sweat dripping down her father’s pale face—that Lan Qiren lets himself into the house, apparently expecting to find a peaceful nephew and great-niece before he walks into the middle of a virtual tornado instead.

“Wangji?” he calls, as Lan Wangji drags himself into the front room in all his miserable, disheveled glory. “What is the matter? Have you fed her?”

“I have fed her, changed her, checked her temperature, and made sure all her clothes were loose enough,” he says, distraught. “Perhaps I will take her to the healing ward, just to make sure she is well. Good afternoon, Shufu.”

“You examined her with your lingli, didn’t you? She’s not sick.”

“No, but—”

“Give her here,” his uncle sighs, holding out his arms for the child. ��Now, bring me that square blanket on the divan, and watch closely.”

While Lan Wangji watches, Lan Qiren lays the blanket out on the bed and folds it into a triangle, and then he places A-Lan onto it with her fluffy round head above the folded edge and packs her into a tight bundle with one arm waving freely outside it.

“Shufu,” Lan Wangji ventures, brow furrowed. “What are you—”

“Quiet,” Lan Qiren instructs him. “Pay attention, Wangji.”

He folds up the bottom corner of the blanket, laying it over A-Lan’s chest and her chubby bent legs, and then he folds the other half around her like a bamboo string around a zongzi, trapping her flailing fist against her body before handing her back to her father.

“There,” he says, satisfied. “See?”

A-Lan’s sobs are already calming down, and a moment later she blinks in confusion and goes straight back to sleep.

Lan Wangji gapes at her. “What did you do, Uncle?” he wonders. “I already tried wrapping her, but this…”

“That is how a baby should be swaddled,” Lan Qiren scolds. “You and Wei Ying wrap her like a pancake roll, and it does well enough most of the time. But when a child this small is in distress, it can be helpful to remind them of their time in the womb, and put them in a similar position with a swaddling blanket. What made A-Lan cry so?”

“She missed Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says dully. “He went to Caiyi with Sizhui and Xiaohui, and she woke early from her nap and cried when she realized he was gone.”

I remember weeping because Wei Ying was gone, he doesn’t say. She seemed as heartbroken as I was, back then.

“Ah,” his uncle murmurs. “A word of advice, Wangji. When you are overtaxed, and dealing with a child in distress, your discomfort will inevitably worsen theirs. I learned this by trial with your brother, and it ended with him stopping his tears and laughing for me because he hated to see me cry.”

It sounds so much like Lan Xichen that Lan Wangji feels his throat swell. “En?”

“In such times, seek help before you become overwrought,” Lan Qiren advises him. “I am here, as is Xichen, and the nursery teachers who cared for you both when you were little. You and your husband are not alone, in any aspect of your lives, and it would be a joy to all of us to aid you.”

And then Lan Qiren makes tea and shoos Lan Wangji back to the bedroom, where he sinks down onto the bed with the baby snoring quietly in his arms and falls asleep himself.

When Wei Ying returns an hour later, he declares that everything must have gone perfectly for both of them to be so at ease.

“I didn’t want to leave you!” he laughs, cuddling a squealing A-Lan to his breast and waving a handful of new toys over her curious little face. “But you were as cool as a cucumber, Lan Zhan! Why can’t I be like you?”

“It was not so smooth as I hoped it would be,” Lan Wangji confesses. “But everything was all right in the end, xingan. My shufu is a very good teacher.”

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #wangxian arranged marriage au #renouncement verse #my fic #wei shuilan #lan qiren #lan wangji #wei wuxian

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

Conversations In The Dark

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @n3ss12: Can I get for a short fic (if you’re not busy) based on Conversations In The Dark by John Legend with soft Nestor?💕

Warnings: language, light angst, so much softness and pining

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Full disclosure, this is also a follow-up to I Like Me Better. You can read this fic without having read that one first, but the first definitely puts more context to it. Just another installment in the Soft Nestor Universe, the SNU, if you will. But I had never heard this song and I melted into a puddle of feelings the first time I listened to it, so thank you for the song rec! Hope you enjoy xo

General Mayans Taglist: @mayans-sauce @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @garbinge @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @lakamaa12 @holl2712 (If you want to be added to any of my tags just let me know!)

It had been almost a week since Nestor showed up on your doorstep. You cashed in on some of your vacation time when he first arrived, not wanting to leave him alone when he had finally made the trip out to come and see you. He wouldn’t have given you a hard time about it regardless—if anyone understood what it was like to be dedicated to your work it was him. But still, it was nice that you were able to have so much time with just the two of you.

For someone who never really left the West Coast, January in New York was a bit much for him to take in all at once. He’d been excited about it all, despite the cold. One of his first days there, you dragged him out to buy him a proper winter coat. He had groaned and rolled his eyes but you weren’t going to budge on it.

“I’m not gonna listen to you complain about being cold the whole time you’re here if we can prevent it,” you chuckled, “Plus you can leave it here so you’ll have it here every time you come to visit.”

“Every time?” he smiled over at you.

You nodded, “Well, yea. Now that you’ve made it out here once you’re on the hook for more trips. I don’t make the rules.”

The two of you were walking down the street to one of your favorite little hole-in-the-wall restaurants. It wasn’t overly fancy, but it was small and quiet, and you loved stopping in there for dinner after work. You were excited to bring Nestor, happy to show him that for all the hustle and bustle, there was still some peace and quiet to be found in the city.

“Y/N,” the hostess greeted you with a smile, “Always so nice to see you,” she looked over to Nestor and smiled, her voice cheery, “You brought company! Table for two?”

You nodded, holding in your laughter, “Yes, please.”

She swiped up two menus and motioned for you to follow her, “Right this way.”

The two of you sat down and you could tell that there was part of Nestor that was still tense, still trying to clock any potential threats. You reached over the table and rested your hands on top of his with a smile. You saw some of the tension disappear from his shoulders as he realized what he was doing.

“You’re off the clock, Nes,” you smiled, “Relax a little, yea?”

“Sorry, force of habit,” he shook his head.

You quickly switched the topic before he could get too into his own thoughts, “So how nice was it to have a break from me while I went to work today?”

He laughed, “You know I’d always rather spend the day with you than by myself.”

You felt your face get warm, “Yea? Six days and nights straight with me hasn’t made you sick of me yet?”

“Not yet,” he shook his head.

It was your first meal out together since he had come to town. He was so programmed to stay in as much as possible for security purposes. And you were enjoying having someone around who enjoyed cooking as much as he did. You cooked because you had to, but he actually loved doing it, so you let him. But this gave both of you the night off.

There was something intimate about being tucked away in the small restaurant together even though there were other people around. The evening ticked by as the two of you talked through dinner and drinks. You got to tell him all about work, which was a definite change of pace from him always being the one with work stories. Your job wasn’t quite as thrilling as his, but you usually clocked out with a story or two to share each day.

Nestor sipped on his beer as he listened intently to everything that you were telling him. He never wanted to take the opportunity to listen to you and see you face-to-face for granted again. From the look in his eye, you could tell that he was taking in every word that you were saying to him.

“I know you probably hear enough lawyer talk back home,” you said with a chuckle as you took a drink from your glass of wine, “Sorry if it’s a little redundant.”

He shook his head with a smile, “Not at all. Your lawyer stories are much more interesting than the ones back home. No one back home is a criminal lawyer.”

“Yea, crims always make for good stories,” you laughed.

Before either of you could jump into another story, your waiter walked up and set the check down in the middle of the table. She flashed a smile at the both of you, “No rush at all, but whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded with a smile, “Thank you.”

As she walked away, both you and Nestor reached for the check. You were anticipating it, though, so you were just a few moments quicker and snatched it up just in time. He huffed and shook his head at you and you threw your head back in laughter.

“Dinner on me, Nes.”

“C’mon, you’re letting me crash with you, the least I could do is pay for dinner.”

“I’m the only one of us who is currently working, so this is actually the smarter financial decision.”

He laughed, “I’m not unemployed, Y/N, I’m on vacation.”

“All the more reason for me to treat you to dinner,” you stuck your credit card into the check and handed it back to the waiter, who had been watching the two of you interact with a smile on her face.

The two of you made your way back out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk, each bundled up in your own puffy winter coat. You wrapped your scarf around your neck and buried your chin into it to protect it from the cold. Nestor was looking over at you with a gentle smile on his face. He stuffed one hand into his pocket while the other came to rest on the small of your back. You smiled over at him as you leaned gently against his side.

It wasn’t a terribly long walk home, but part of you wished that you could drag it out a little longer. Nestor’s arm was wrapped completely around your waist and he had you pulled tight against him. He let you go just long enough for you to unlock and open the front door to your house. As soon as the two of you were inside, he was helping you with your coat and scarf and for a brief moment you forgot that this wasn’t what your life was like—this was just a temporary fix for the both of you. Nestor still hadn’t really opened up about what made him decide to take time off so suddenly in the first place.

“It’s starting to get kinda late,” you watched as Nestor hung his own coat up, “wanna just watch movies upstairs?”

He nodded, “Sounds good.”

You let out a sigh of relief, “Good. Otherwise you’d have to carry me upstairs from the couch.”

He laughed, “I think I could manage that if I had to.”

The two of you were laid up in bed together, the way that you had been every night for the last week. Neither of you made any comment about it, not wanting to burst the bubble that you were in. Nestor rested his hand on your back while you laid on his chest, both of you only half paying attention to the movie that was on the screen.

You were so close to falling asleep when you heard the sound of Nestor’s phone vibrating on the nightstand beside the bed. He mumbled a quiet apology as he picked the phone up to see who was calling. With a heavy sigh he hit the reject button and put his phone on silent.

He didn’t make any comment about it, and you were about to let it slide, but you couldn’t pretend that his real life wasn’t going to start encroaching on your situation sooner or later. The fact that he’d gone a week without interruption was a huge feat in your mind.

“Galindo?” you mumbled against his chest.

“Not important,” he gently rubbed your back.

You looked up at him, “I mean, it might be a little important,” you offered up a tired smile.

He smiled, “I’m on vacation, remember?”

“Yea,” your voice was quiet as you idly traced patterns along his chest.

“What’re you thinking?”

You shrugged, “I just…what made you take the time off? I’ve known you forever and you’ve never just blipped off the radar like that.”

For a minute the only noise in the room came from the television. You thought that Nestor was really about to just avoid answering your question, and you weren’t really sure what you’d do if he did that. The two of you were always open about everything. What could be so secretive that he couldn’t let you in?

Finally, he spoke up, “I…caught some heat from Galindo over some things. Made some decisions that he didn’t agree with and it cost me my position.”

“He fired you?” you sat upright, eyes wide.

He shook his head, “No, not really. More like…demoted?”

“Jesus,” you rested your hand on the back of your neck, “Can I ask what you did?”

You could see it written all over his face that he was dreading you asking that question. You were hard pressed to believe, though, that it would be something so terrible that it would change anything between the two of you. You knew who Galindo was, and for as enamored as you were with Nestor, you were still realistic about who he was and what he had to do for work as well. Nothing could really be that shocking, right?

“I can’t lose you,” he couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Hey,” you whispered as you gently cupped his face in your hands, prompting him to look at you, “you’re not going to lose me. Fuck, Nes, I feel like I just got you back. I’m not going anywhere,” you traced your thumb along his cheekbone, “You can tell me anything, I promise.”

He was silent for a few moments as he rested his hands over yours. He closed his eyes for a second before pulling you back towards him so you were laying with your head on his chest as he leaned back against the headboard of your bed. His heart was beating fast and hard enough for you to feel it against your cheek, and it was one of the only times you’d ever seen Nestor nervous about anything.

You listened intently as he started to outline everything that had been going on back home—the cartel, the rebels, and everything that came with it. The volume of his voice was hardly more than a whisper and yet it still drowned out the television as you leaned into every word that he said. His eyes weren’t meeting yours as he talked about the Galindo’s child, and the festival, and the church. He was focused on looking at your hand, that was absentmindedly tracing back and forth over his knuckles.

Whatever it was that you had been expecting him to tell you, the story you were listening to wasn’t it. You couldn’t deny that it was a bit of a pill to swallow, but again, you knew the world that Nestor lived in. How surprised could you really pretend to be that things got messy? You knew about the kind of things Miguel and his father did—the cartel was at the root of a lot of carnage. It was difficult, though, to picture the man who was laying in bed with you doing the things that he was describing to you. You were aware that he was capable of brute force, but he’s also the same man that for a week had been eating dessert in bed with you while you forced him to sit through Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix.

The clock on your nightstand ticked over to show you that it was 1AM. You looked up at Nestor as he fell silent after filling you in on everything that had happened before he showed up on your doorstep. You couldn’t believe that he had been bottling all of that up for so long.

“I’m so sorry,” he said after a few moments of silence, “I didn’t mean to bring all of this to you. I know you got out of Cali for a reason and I’m just dragging all this shit back into your life but I—”

You cut him off as you turned to face him, “Don’t apologize. I know you, Nestor. I know who you are, and who you are is never something that you need to apologize for. Never to me, okay?”

He nodded and you could see relief and a dozen other emotions swirling around his eyes, “I want to be the person you think I am, Y/N. I’m trying. But I just…don’t know if I can.”

You situated yourself so that you were sitting in his lap, facing him. You rested one hand on his chest, “You don’t have to try to be anything, okay? I don’t want you to change. You’re perfect as you are,” you rested your hands on his shoulders, “And you know me, if something about you bothered me, I would definitely fucking tell you.”

He let out a quiet laugh as his hands rested on your hips, “That’s true,” his expression sobered as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, “I don’t think I’ve ever really thanked you for how much of my weight you’ve shouldered over the years—all the secrets you’ve kept, all the advice you’ve given me. I…I think I took that for granted until you left.”

You became very aware of the warmth seeping from his hands into your sides as he pulled you closer to him. The weight of everything the two of you never said or did in all the years you’d known each other was suddenly starting to become unbearably heavy.

You lightly brushed your nose against his, “It’s the least I could do,” your heart felt like it was about to pound out of your chest, “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved that’s never broken my heart.”

His body tensed and he pulled back so he could look into your eyes. It was out there now, and there was no taking it back. So many years and countless conversations spent skirting around it, and now there was no turning away from it. His eyes searched yours, as though he was trying to figure out if you were going to take back what you had just said. You held his gaze, letting him know that the last thing you were going to do now was try and backpedal.

Almost faster than you could keep up with, his one arm wrapped tight around your waist and his other hand landed on the back of your neck as he pulled you into a needy, years-in-the-making, kiss. Instinctively your hands landed on his chest, balling his t-shirt in your fists as you attempted to pull him as close as possible to you. His fingertips pressed harder into your back as his lips moved against yours, causing you to let slip a quiet moan.

You bit lightly at his bottom lip and you felt him lean farther into you. Your hands slid up from his chest and came to rest clasped together behind his neck. He couldn’t take his lips off of yours as his fingers traced along your cheek and jaw, trying to satiate years’ worth of hunger and longing.

You finally pulled back, needing to catch your breath. Nestor kept your body pressed tightly against his, foreheads touching. Both of your chests rose and fell quickly as you tried to process and recover from everything that had just happened. His hands returned to their gentle position just above your hips while yours rested on either side of his neck.

“I love you, Y/N,” his voice was gentler than you’d ever heard it, “I know I should’ve told you a long fucking time ago, but I love you. I love you so much.”

Heat washed over your entire body as you soaked up every word that he was saying, “I love you too. And, for what it’s worth, you’ve been telling me for years—it just sounded a little different.”

He chuckled before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You’re perfect.”

You trailed your fingers lightly through his facial hair, “I’m so glad that you’re here.”

He smiled, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it, “I’m glad I am too,” he paused, “I don’t think that I can go back to the way my life was before all of this,” he shook his head slightly.

“Who says that you have to?”

He looked at you, “I can’t stay out here forever. And…and I could never ask you to give up your life here to come back to California.”

“I’ve loved you for years, Nestor. I loved you when I lived across the street from you, and I loved you when I lived across the country from you. That’s not going to change, whether we are in the same state or on opposite sides of the globe. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I’ll be loving you.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, resting his head in the crook of your neck, “But I wanna love you like this, all the time.”

You smiled, softly resting your hand on the back of his head, “I know. We never get to have simple lives, huh?”

You felt the vibration of his laughter against the sensitive skin of your neck, “No, we don’t.”

“But we always figure it out, right?”

“Right,” he gave you a light squeeze.

“C’mon,” you flopped off to the side of him and pulled him down with you, “come lay with me.”

He laughed as you tangled your legs up with his and nestled your face against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your middle and kissed the top of your head before letting out a soft sigh of contentment.

“You should stay home tomorrow,” he whispered into your hair.”

You chuckled and tilted your head to look up at him, “Oh, definitely.”

He leaned down and caught your lips in a soft kiss as his hand ran up and down your back, “I love you.”

You hummed in contentment, “I love you too.”

You rested your head back against his chest, and you felt his chin softly land on the top of your head as he pressed your body flush against his. You felt yourself melting into his body heat as the television continued to play softly in the background. There were still questions to be answered, and you’d confront them when the time came. But, for the first time in a long time, it felt like a weight had been taken off of your chest. And as you listened to Nestor’s steady breathing and heartbeat, you knew you weren’t the only one who felt a little lighter.

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