#if they do not elaborate on the cabin guy this is what i will choose to believe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

diaphragmjellyfish · 4 years ago

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You Just Wait

gif is from @twilightofficial

A/N: The hardest part of writing a fic is honestly choosing the love interest XD I have so many fictional boyfriends it’s hard to choose just one. I have noticed a significant lack of Jared Cameron content and he’s super adorable so here it is! Also, I left the concept a little bit more vague so more people can relate to it. It doesn’t specifically say vaginismus, it’s more of a general “sex doesn’t normally go well for me” type thing.

Bottomless, covered in chocolate sauce, walking through the woods, phone dead, in the middle of August on a weekday. How did you end up here? Jared Cameron. Your boyfriend. He had roped you in to an elaborate prank on Paul that hadn’t exactly gone as planned. Needless to say, you were desperate for a shower and a nap. A hot meal wouldn’t hurt. And you were beyond irritated, not even looking Jared’s way as he walked next to you in a similar state.

“Babe, if you let me carry you, we’ll get home way faster,” he whined.

You didn’t respond, only walking with more frustration around the roots and fallen trees. It was growing dark, just about twilight, and you knew you wouldn’t be reaching either of your houses at this rate. You were miles into the forest. But your pride kept you from accepting Jared’s wolfy-back ride, because he tended to make lots of jokes about being between your legs and you riding him and blah blah blah, and you honestly might punch him right now if he did that.

So you just kept ignoring him, arms folded tightly against your chest because, yes, it was August, but this was also the Washington coast. It got pretty chilly no matter what time of year it was.

“I can see you shivering from here,” he pleaded, almost sounding in pain at the thought of you being uncomfortable. “It’s only gonna get colder. Let me help you.”

You ignored him.

“C’mooonnnnnn,” he cried. His preferred way of cracking your silence was usually by annoying you out of it, and it was working. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon c’m-”

“Jared, I swear to God!”

“Aha! She speaks!” he laughed.

“”Only to tell you to be quiet, or I’ll-”

“Or you’ll what?” he cut you off. “I’m way stronger than you!” He was teasing you into talking to him. Even if it was in the form of arguing. Damn, he always got you to crack. You stopped walking, turning to face him, arms still held tightly around yourself. You couldn’t resist a good bicker, and Jared knew that. He would get the sass to come out, and then once you got tired, he’d apologize and you’d be made up within half an hour. That’s what always happened. And you couldn’t exactly stay mad at those big brown puppy eyes for long.

“Physically, maybe,” you chided, “but I’m definitely way smarter than you.”

He stepped closer to you, a playful smirk on his face. “What, are you gonna read me to death or something?”

“I’m gonna strategize a huge plan, manipulate you, and leave you here in the forest by yourself. That’s what I’m gonna do,” you sassed. He never took arguments to heart, which is one thing you loved about him. He knew how grumpy you could get and would let you vent, and then make you forget all about the problem.

“Oh, okay, yeah sure,” he giggled, hands going up in defense. “I’m just saying that in this situation, there is no way you come out on top. You run, I catch you. You hide, I sniff you out,” he teased. This made you crack an almost imperceptible smile, but one he noticed nonetheless. “And if you did somehow manage to get away from me, you’d freeze to death in an hour flat.” The cold breeze that caused you to shiver more violently could not have had worse timing. Obviously, Jared noticed, and his face dropped. He approached you slowly, silently asking if you were still mad enough to not let him touch you. When you didn’t step back or stop him, he wrapped both his arms around you and brought you into a huge bear hug. You sighed at his warmth, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. He’d given you his hoodie hours ago, and was left in only a pair of shorts, though he didn’t seem to notice. Damn him and his werewolf heat.

You still shivered in his arms, but his feverish temperature was a relief to your aching bones.

“See? Could’ve been warm hours ago,” he teased once again, noting your clinginess.

“Shut up. I’m still mad,” you mumbled into his neck. He laughed softly to himself, rubbing his hands up and down your body to create more heat. After a few minutes, you were starting to struggle to keep your eyes open. It had to be close to 2 in the morning, and you’d been walking for what felt like hours. Jared could have easily run home and let you brood alone, but he stuck with you no matter how long you went without speaking to him.

“Sleepy?” he murmured into your hair. You just nodded softly, and didn’t protest as he bent down, one hand going behind your knees and the other staying around your back. He picked you up with ease and started walking through the woods once more with an “Okay Princess, I got you.” His stride never faltered, easily avoiding tripping over roots or slipping on rain-soaked moss. He must have been walking for about 30 minutes, never so much as breathing hard or shifting you in his grip. You didn’t sleep, but welcomed the rest he allowed you. Your eyes were closed, head resting on his shoulder when you felt him stop. You looked up, and in the distance, maybe 50 yards away, you saw a small building.

“Hunter’s cabin, I’m guessing. No one’s home,” Jared stated, anticipating your questions.

“Think there’ll be blankets?” you wondered, tired, yet still playful.

“What, am I not enough for you?” he feigned mock hurt as you giggled at his unshakeable good attitude. Without another word, he began walking towards the small cabin, which was about the size of an average bedroom. When you reached the door, he set you down gently, holding his hands close to your waist while you found your footing, and then wrapping an arm over your shoulders to keep you warm.

“I’m assuming it’s locked,” you sighed, disappointed.

“Babe, no door is locked when you have super strength. Honestly, I thought you’d have more faith in me by now,” he smiled brightly.

“You can’t just go around kicking random people’s doors in!” you scolded.

“Okay, first of all, I can tell by the smell that no one’s been here in years. Second of all, how would anyone know it was us that broke in and not, like, a deer? And third of all, I’d say this counts as an emergency,” he sassed right back at you. You looked at him in annoyance, too tired and cold to actually care.

After a long sigh, you muttered “fine.”

He immediately turned to the door, not letting you so much as inhale before he slammed his foot into the space next to the knob, the door all but flying off its hinges. The whole scene caused deafening noise that interrupted the silence of the trees.

“Jesus!” you called out in surprise, a hand shooting up to your pounding heart. You look around, though knowing no one was around for miles. Jared only turned to look at you, a cheeky smile adorning his face, and said,

“See? Told ya.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the loving and admiring energy that overcame you. Jared really was one in a million, and you were lucky to be by his side. He could be in the worst situation in the world and still find something to laugh about.

He motioned for you to go in first, ever the gentleman. Walking through the door, the first thing you noticed was the dust. The entire inside of the cabin was covered in a thick layer of it. There was a small, rickety couch with cushions so worn they had holes in them throughout. And the fabric… my God. It looked like something from the 60’s, an obnoxious floral that had faded over time, and now just looked flat out stained. There was a flimsy throw blanket over the back of the couch, a cooler in the corner of the room that was covered in dirt, and on the opposite wall, a fireplace! No wood, no matches, but it was there. The floor was scattered with bullet shells, receipts, and decayed leaves. It was obvious no one had been in here for at least 3 or 4 years.

“Okay, I can work with this,” Jared said. You really were jealous of his optimism. But, as disgusting as this place was, it beat the frigid breeze of outside, and had a place where you could rest your heads. You walked over to the couch, grabbing the blanket and beating the dust off of it. It was really only meant for one person, but you guys were okay with getting close. It would do.

Jared walked over to the opposite corner where the cooler sat by the fireplace and opened the lid, peeking inside.

“Just water,” he said, sounding almost disappointed.

“Were you really gonna eat whatever was in there?” you spoke incredulously.

“Babe, I’m starving. You have no idea how close I am to licking that chocolate sauce off of you,” he voiced. You had almost forgotten about the sticky sauce that covered both of your clothes. That prank really was a disaster. You looked down, face heating at the thought of Jared’s mouth on you like that, and turned to the fireplace where he stood. He was looking on the mantle, oblivious to the effect his comment had on you, and exclaimed “Aha!” before reaching up to grab something. “A lighter. We’re saved! Well, you are,” he laughed looking over at your shivering form once more. “Stay here and get comfy. I’m gonna go get some wood.”

You tried your best, sitting on the edge of the couch and immediately feeling a spring poking you in the butt. The couch really was tiny. You guys were gonna have to bundle up close to fit. The thought excited you. Sure, you and Jared had always been comfortable touching and holding each other, but there were certain areas of your relationship you had yet to explore. More… intimate areas. It was your fault mostly. To make a long story short, you’ve just never enjoyed sex. You found yourself not able to get aroused, which made things painful. Sure, you wanted to. You’d thought about it a ton. But in the moment, your head was so full of thoughts of ‘What if he thinks I’m ugly? What if I smell? Am I doing this right? Is he having a good time? Am I taking too long?’ that you just stopped trying. And obviously you wanted to have sex with Jared, but you were worried he’d be disappointed. By the time he got back, just a few minutes later, you had brought your knees up to your chest, holding your legs close in an effort to preserve warmth.

“Doing okay Sweetheart?” he asked gently. You gave a small smile and nodded in response. He plopped the logs in his arms down into the fireplace, scavenging the floor for receipts, dried leaves, anything that would catch fire. He dumped these into the fireplace and lit them, the fire catching within seconds. He walked over to the other side of the room where the couch was before bending down, grabbing the bottom lip of it, and pulling it (and you) across the floor, one-handed, and closer to the fire. “Better?” You had always been in awe of his strength. Let’s be honest, it was just plain sexy. Again, you just nodded your head, staring at him in adoration.

He sat beside you on the couch, throwing an arm over your shoulders again, and leaning back, taking you with him. You cuddled into his side, watching the fire.

“Ya know, if you take away the shitty couch and sticky clothes and add a few more blankets, this would actually be pretty nice,” he finally spoke.

You laughed softly, replying, “It would. The couch isn’t even awful, but these clothes are really ruining the mood for me.”

“Well why don’t you get out of ‘em, hot stuff?” he joked. You knew he wasn’t serious because you guys haven’t gotten that far yet, but something, maybe the exhaustion or the way he kept challenging you today, made you want to actually do it. Before you could lose your nerve, you reached down, pulling off the hoodie and shirt in one go and tossing them onto the floor. You relaxed back into his arms in just a bra, acting like nothing had happened. He was frozen beside you. Maybe it was mean, but you wanted to tease him a little. He’d put you through a lot today, so you wanted to mess with him a tiny bit. So, coolly, you brought a hand onto his thigh and began running it up and down, going higher and higher with each pass. He was still frozen, so you gave a light squeeze, and heard him inhale sharply, though he tried to hide it.

“I thought you were tired,” he commented.

“Guess I’m not anymore,” you responded, turning to face him boldly. He immediately leaned in to kiss you, softly as always. You reciprocated, bringing your other hand up to cup his face. His arm that was around your shoulders slipped down around your waist, pulling you in further. Jared had always been gentle when kissing you, so you knew you’d have to make the first move to deepen it. Which is exactly what you did. Running your hand up his head and grabbing his hair, you pulled him towards you even more and traced your tongue across his bottom lip. He responded by matching your energy, tongue slipping out to caress yours before bringing your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling softly. You guys had never kissed like this before. You felt a bead of warmth pool in your abdomen, something you’d never felt with a guy before. Sure, you’d been turned on while watching certain videos or reading certain fanfiction by yourself, but you’d never actually experienced it with someone before. It was exciting. Maybe it was the knowledge that you could stop things at any time and he wouldn’t be upset, or maybe it was how in love with you he really was, but you didn’t feel nervous or worried. You felt comfortable.

Taking things a step further, you swung your leg over both of his, moving to straddle his lap.

He pulled away slightly at this, making you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he responded, “I just don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.”

You smiled, “I’m not doing anything I don’t wanna do. Are you?”

“Are you seriously asking me that question right now?” He laughed, making you giggle along.

You leaned back in for another kiss, when he stopped you again. “What exactly… are we doing, though?” You knew what he was silently asking. Are we about to go all the way? And you didn’t know yet. This had started out as playful teasing, but now you were beginning to think that maybe you did want to try something. With Jared. He was it for you, the one you wanted to spend forever with. If you couldn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust anyone. And he’d taken such good care of you these last few hours, keeping you warm, making sure you were storming off in the right direction, that you knew he’d appreciate you in a more intimate sense.

“I- I kind of would like to try… some stuff,” you answered.

He looked at you, eyes wide, before answering, “What kind of stuff? I mean, I will do literally anything you ask me to do and you know that, but I didn’t really prepare for this. Like, I don’t… have what we need.” Oh, a condom. What a responsible boy.

“I’m on the pill,” you replied a little too quickly before looking down and fiddling with your hands. “If you want to.”

“Y/N, I would be absolutely fucking honored,” he breathed, before cupping your face and pulling you into the most heated kiss yet. Your tongues danced, hands wandering. Yours, across his muscled chest and abdomen, and his, down your waist and around to cup your pantsless ass, squeezing firmly. It felt nice. He handled you in a way that was gentle and painless, but still dominant and firm. And it made the heat in your belly grow. You continued kissing for several minutes, your hands moving up his neck and eventually landing in his hair once more, and his remaining on your ass and waist. You softly sucked at his lower lip, nibbling slightly, and it made him let out a low growl and pull your hips forward onto his, where you felt something hard push against you. You knew what it was, and it didn’t scare you like it normally would. You did, however, feel your damp underwear. Shit, that’s never happened before. You were normally bone dry at this point. You let out a soft sigh, grinding your hips onto him once more.

He softened his kisses slightly, bringing a hand around to your stomach and running his knuckles lightly across your lower abdomen.

“Can I?” He questioned delicately.

“Yes,” you replied almost immediately. He brought his hand under the waistband of your underwear, when you said, “Wait,” and he stopped. “Just one thing. I kind of… have never been able to do this without it hurting a lot, so maybe you could just try to be gentle?”

“Oh, baby, you’ve been in pain before? I’m so sorry,” he whispered genuinely.

“It’s okay, I just…” It was now or never. He should know. “Normally I’m super nervous about everything, so I can’t really… get into it, and when girls aren’t into it it’s kind of… dry? And that makes it kind of hurt really bad.” You faded out at the end, feeling embarrassed. He brought his hand out of your underwear and up to your chin, tilting your face up to look him in the eye, looking concerned. “But I’m into this, I mean, right now. I’m excited. I just thought I should warn you,” you awkwardly laughed at the end.

“You promise? Because you know that if you want to stop we will, and I would never be upset or pressure or anything like that,” he spoke sweetly, making your heart flutter. And you did know that, which is why you felt comfortable. Every other time, you felt that if you went past a certain point, you couldn’t say stop. Couldn’t call it off without making whatever guy you were with super mad and then… who knows what would happen. But when Jared spoke those words, you believed him.

“I promise. And I know you’ll stop. But I don’t want you to.”

With this, he scanned your face one more time for any signs of hesitation, and when he found none, brought you down into another heated kiss. You felt his hand trail from your chin down to your breasts, skimming over your bra, down your stomach and once again to the waistband of your underwear. Only this time he didn’t go under. He stayed on top of the fabric and brought his hand down between your legs, index finger brushing lightly against your core. You barely felt it, and began to worry that you’d once again feel numb. Oftentimes, when guys would touch you or go down on you, you felt nothing. It was like you were broken or something. And you started to become concerned that tonight would be no different.

But he brought his finger down again, repeating the same movement, only with significantly more pressure this time, and it had you release an involuntary sigh. And instead of removing his finger like he had the first time, he kept it over your clit, drawing firm circles.

Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan, Jared staring intently at your face.

“Oh, wow,” you finally breathed.

“Good?” he asked cockily, wearing a large smirk. He repeated the movement again, drawing a line from your core to your clit, stopping to rub circles.

“Mmm hmm,” you sighed. He leaned in once more to meet you with the sloppiest, dirtiest kiss you two had shared yet, and it only made you grind your center into his hand. He repeated the action several times over, and you were a writhing mess in minutes.

He brought a finger under your waistband once more, stretching the elastic out before letting it snap lightly against your skin. “Let’s take these off, hmm?” You’d never stood up so fast in your life, practically ripping the panties off of you, taking your bra off with it. Jared stood up to remove his shorts, but stopped to stare.

“What?” you questioned shyly, moving to cover up.

“You’re literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

The boy quite literally had heart eyes for you.

“Oh,” you responded meekly, cheeks heating up. When you kept looking back at him, he seemed to snap back into the moment and hurriedly ripped off his shorts and underwear, sitting back on the couch and opening his arms for you. You moved to straddle his hips the same way as before, and he brought his arms around to embrace you as you shared another heated kiss. One of his hands moved up to cup your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple as if you were made of glass. Jared pulled his mouth off of yours and trailed his lips down the side of your face, to your jaw, and down onto your neck, suckling lightly and leaving wet kisses. You tilted your head to the side to give him better access, and brought one of your hands down between you two to grasp him. He shuddered, only grabbing your hips and bringing you impossibly closer. His other hand trailed down to your center once more, going straight to your core and gathering the slight wetness there before bringing his finger up to your clit and circling. With your underwear out of the way, you felt almost lightheaded at his touch. You never knew how girls could cum during sex before, because you never seemed to feel much at all unless it was pain, but with how aroused you were right now and Jared’s movements, you thought for the first time that you may actually be able to finish. People do say that 90% of sex is mental, and you guessed this is what they meant. The more into it you are, the more physical sensation you actually feel. Groundbreaking.

“Can I finger you?” he murmured huskily into your neck.

You tensed slightly at this, but trusted him. If you said stop, he would. “Ok, just go slow.”

“Of course,” he responded before placing a sweet kiss on your shoulder and bringing his index finger back to your core, swirling around the entrance a few times. You took a few deep breaths to relax your muscles, and he looked at you, wordlessly asking, Ready? You nodded, and he slipped his finger in, just to the first knuckle, and held it still while he brought his thumb to your clit and continued rubbing. When he noticed you visibly relax, he slipped his finger in further to the second knuckle, stopping for a few seconds, and then all the way. He kept it here again, giving you time to adjust or tell him to stop, all the while keeping you stimulated with his thumb. It felt really good. Well, you didn’t exactly feel his finger at all, which was better than pain, and his thumb was making you crazy. Your breathing was labored at this point, eyebrows furrowed as you held onto his shoulders, nails digging in and sure to leave scratches. He pressed the finger inside of you onto your front wall suddenly, massaging the ridges firmly, and you let out a moan. Your first real moan ever. And damn did it get Jared excited. He continued this motion again and again, building in intensity and pressure slowly. When he felt how wet you had become, he pulled his finger back out to the first knuckle, and added his middle finger next to it, sliding them both back in slowly so as not to hurt you. Your eyes widened at the stretch, but it didn’t hurt. It felt amazing.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered to yourself, before moaning once more as his fingers began the ‘come-hither’ motion once more.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, concerned at your cursing.

“No, feels so good,” you moaned, and he smiled at this, increasing the pressure even more. Your eyes screwed shut, hips stuttering over his hand, letting him finger fuck you for several more minutes as you began to feel a tightening in your stomach. He brought his thumb off of your clit finally, adjusting his hand for a better angle and bringing his other hand off of your waist and up to his mouth, licking his thumb and bringing that down to your clit, resuming the tight circles. You could hear how wet you were, feeling too good to be embarrassed. The heat in your stomach was building, spreading. You felt your legs begin to shake, muscles begin to tighten around his fingers, and your eyes screwed shut as you opened your mouth in a silent scream and came. The waves of pleasure washed over you for a long time, Jared slowing his movements down so as not to overstimulate you. When you finally opened your eyes again, you were panting, legs feeling like Jello. Jared was staring at you with a look of absolute awe on his face, mouth agape and dick rock hard, red, and leaking precum. He was more turned on than he had ever been from actual sex before, and it was only from watching you.

“Fuck, baby that was so hot,” he all but moaned.

You reached down to grasp him, panting a “your turn.”

He grabbed both your wrists, stopping you. “Nuh uh, this is about you. Lie the fuck down.”

You gasped, his dominant tone turning you on despite your recent climax. You both knew that if you were even slightly uncomfortable, things would stop immediately. But it was fun for both of you to let him be a little aggressive. You did as told, lying long ways across the couch cushions, Jared moving to kneel between your legs, moving your knees softly apart so he could look at all of you. You didn’t feel insecure being exposed like this. You felt excited.

“Are you absolutely sure you wanna do this?” he questioned.

“I have never been more sure, Jared baby, I want to,” you pleaded. This was enough for him, so he brought his dick down to line up with your entrance, rubbing the tip up and down a few times to collect your wetness. He was worried that there wouldn’t be enough lubricant, so he brought a hand up to his mouth and spit, rubbing the saliva on his cock.

“You just wait ‘til we get some real lube and a real fucking bed, Princess. You won’t be able to walk for days.” You shuddered at the thought of this, and of the sensation of his dick rubbing around your clit and back down to your entrance. He pushed in slightly, letting the tip in before pausing and checking your face for any signs of pain. When he found none, he pushed in slightly more, and more. He was being extremely slow, and you appreciated it. Guys normally would just shove themselves inside, not giving you any time to adjust before pounding away. But Jared was careful, despite how turned on you knew he was. He still had your best interest in mind. Within a couple of minutes, he was fully seated inside of you, staying still until you told him to move. He brought his face down to give you a sweet kiss, waiting for you to give him the signal.

After a few seconds, you didn’t feel any sort of stinging or pain, so you nodded, saying “Just start slow.”

“Of course,” he replied genuinely. He pulled his hips back just a few inches, before slowly grinding them back into yours. You closed your eyes, focusing on keeping your muscles loose and relaxed as he continues this movement a few more times. The next time he pushed in, he ground his hips further into yours, hitting the deepest parts of you. This had you release a gasp, eyes opening to meet his. “Okay?” he questioned.

“Yes.”

He did this several more times, letting you get used to the feeling of him being so deep inside of you, before your hips began to grind back into his. It felt really good. When he noticed this, he began pulling his hips back more, pushing back in slightly faster, and this had you moaning. You threw your head back, back arched, just enjoying the sensations. Your hands were grasping at his shoulders, definitely leaving scratch marks.

“Oh my God,” you whispered.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he responded, planting sloppy kisses to your neck and collar bone. “Baby, I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You smiled at this, glad he was enjoying it as much as you were. “Go ahead, cum for me,” you spoke, and your words had him right on the edge. He pulled out of you quickly, hand fisting his cock as he stared at your sweaty, writhing body below him. He came hard, spilling onto your stomach as he growled out, the sound making your toes curl, almost animalistic. You both remained in this position as you came down, breaths labored and eyes barely open. He stood up fully off of the couch and reached for the flimsy blanket on the floor, using it to wipe off your stomach. He threw it into the corner of the room and lay down next to you on the couch, gathering you up into his arms to cuddle.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked almost nervously after a few minutes.

“Nah, kinda sucked,” you teased, and he let out a playful laugh, lightly shoving you away before pulling you back and planting a kiss on your temple.

A pause. “For real though,” he prodded, beginning to panic slightly.

You burst out laughing. “Of course I had a good time, Jared. Best i’ve ever had, if I’m being honest.”

“Ok good,” he sighed, relieved but trying not to show that you actually had him nervous for a second.

Another pause. “Did… did you have a good time?” you questioned back at him.

He seemed almost offended at the question, bringing a hand up to cup your face so that your eyes met his. “Y/N, this was the best night of my entire life. That was perfect. You are perfect. And I’m glad you trusted me enough to do that with you.”

You felt your eyes sting slightly, emotions running wild. You considered yourself the luckiest girl in the world to be with Jared Cameron. Not only was he totally gorgeous, but kind, hilarious, and great in bed.

In an effort to switch the tone back to a more playful one, you replied, “Yeah, well I was promised some more fun involving real lube and a real bed so…”

He tugged you further into him, wrapping his arms around you in a way that made you think he might never let go. He laughed, and said “Oh, you just wait.”

#jared cameron x reader #jared cameron #twilight #wolf pack #paul lahote #sam uley #jacob black #embry call #seth clearwater #quil ateara #edward cullen #twilight smut #vaginismus

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gilly-bj · 4 years ago

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Why the “Eremika kiss” doesn’t affect Rivamika at all

In the new chapter, we saw for the first time something that we didn’t expect to happen in the manga: a kiss, between Mikasa and (dead)Eren, probably not like we all imagined. This kiss hit everyone hard, also the Eremika shippers, who weren’t very happy with the fact that Eren was already dead when Mikasa kissed him. Eremikas unfortunately weren’t the only ones sad, also lots of Rivamikas had this feeling and, I was one of them.

When the chapter came out and I saw Mikasa kissing Eren, I literally crashed (windows.exe stopped working); my whole body stopped working and the only sensible thought I could elaborate was: “Wait, WTF!”. After I scraped together that quantity of calm that could make me, at least, sit down, I started to write posts that I’ve already eliminated, so don’t look for them because I made them disappear, because my opinions changed radically.

Quick note for you guys from your G: in these cases, don’t write immediately what you’re thinking in that exact moment. I was incredibly frustrated, so the posts I wrote were full of complaints. I didn’t analyzed the kiss from other prospectives, because for me it was only the “eremika kiss”. Remember to wait at least the traduction of the chapter, official or not; you’ll have enough time to reflect on it and elaborate opinions lucidly.

Anyway, in this post I’ll talk about three things:

Eremika’s conversation and Mikasa’s dream

The kiss and why it doesn’t affect Rivamika

Final considerations about RM

The subheadings are written in their own special colour, so if you’re not interested in one of them, it will be easier to find the other.

Let’s start!

• Eremika’s conversation and Mikasa’s dream.

Mikasa has an headache and she wake up in her ideal world, where she lives with Eren in a isolated cabin in the woods. This chapter is from Mikasa’s pov, and note that her perfect image of home is again showed, probably for the last time. I think that Mikasa’s feelings for Eren were kinda obvious, apart from the fact that I never liked or supported them, they are here and we can’t do anything against them.

But I’ve never imagined to see that kind of selfish dream from Mikasa; she is the girl who always cares for everyone, the one who is ready to sacrifice herself for the well-being of her friends, the one who loves them and support them independently from the situation. To be honest, it hurts to see that in her dream, Armin isn’t with them; if there wasn’t Levi, my shipper heart would have hurt but I’d understand, they aren’t so close yet, but Armin, they’ve grown together.

But I’m not mad at Mikasa, each of us has a selfish dream deep inside, where we’d rather sacrifice others to save our special person; it doesn’t mean that we don’t love them, it’s just, if we’d have to choose, we’d prefer to keep safe only him or her. Let me explain better my point with an example: imagine a man who lives in a country at war; he has the possibility to save just two people and he has to choose between his wife and daughter or his parents. He would probably save his wife and daughter, but it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love his parents. Choosing between the people we love is the most painful thing in the world, but sometimes we just have to do it, and in Mikasa’s case, she’d choose Eren.

Anyway, before talking about the conversation, I want to analyze a little detail: during her all dream, Mikasa and Eren are in their teen form, why? Well, my interpretation is that Mikasa is still in love with the old Eren and she can’t understand the new one, indeed, one she said: “I’ll bring the old Eren back”. Even if she doesn’t completely understand him, she still loves him, and that’s why I adore Mikasa.

Anyway, let’s analyze better their conversation:

Eren wakes Mika up and he states their situation in that moment, how they ran away leaving the others to their cruel destiny. Now, do we all agree how that doesn’t fit Eren’s character, at all. His most famous line is “Fight if you want to win”, which it shows how brave he is; if he’d run away with Mikasa, he would act like a coward, and he can’t accept cowardice.

And here, Mikasa’s biggest regret: the answer she gave to Eren; remeber when she said: “If only I gave him another answer”, and in her dream she probably did: thanks to Eren’s words, we can assume that Mikasa told him to run away with her, to leave everything, probably what she wanted to answer in the reality. I interpreted that scene from chapter 123 like a Mikasa who couldn’t answer because taken by surprise, and then came up with a thing she didn’t mean who is still harassing her.

Let’s say that the Eren in the previous panels was Mikasa’s idealized version, but then something changes. Look at Eren’s face:

The marks. And why did they appear casually? Because, this is the true Eren, the one they are going to kill, the one who wanted to give his probably last message to Mikasa, and in fact the most important part of the conversation: “Please...Mikasa, forget about me”. At this point, I really don’t understand what the Eremika shippers found romantic in this chapter, the fact that the last thing Eren said to Mikasa is “forget about me” made things clear enough. We can notice that Eren entered her dream by the falcon here, funny that Mikasa is actually flying on Falco right now.

I really started to appreciate Mikasa and Eren’s relationship thanks to this chapter; even if I wasn’t, and I am not, a big fan of the Eremika ship, thinking about their relationship made me a bit sad. Anyway, I love the fact that Eren wanted to tell this to Mikasa, I think he deeply want her to live a life without him, because he’s already understood that they have different life goals, different way of thinking, different natures.

Before skipping to the next point, I noticed that many Rivamika shippers’ve already talked about the similarity between Eren and Levi in some of the panels, I’m not going to dwell because I‘ll write a different post about it, but I wanted to say that it can’t be just a coincidence, Levi and Eren’s haircuts are very different and there’s no way to confuse them. I don’t know why Isayama did this; maybe it’s a foreshadowing, or maybe he just wanted to trol us (it’s always him), I’ll just wait patiently April to see if my assumptions are right 😌

• The kiss and why it doesn’t affect Rivamika at all

Ah this kiss, this damn kiss. Uff, let me sit down and let’s talk about it.

So, Mikasa decides to kill Eren and she enters his mouth thanks to Levi’s help. The first thing she sees is Eren’s head, and I think we should already stop and analyze better this moment.

Look at his expression: he seems kinda... happy and, maybe also proud. Why? Because Mikasa finally decided to do the right thing, she chose Humanity, she sacrificed him, the person she loves the most, for the others. That’s her development. Even if she’ll never forget him, she chose to be selfless over selfish, and I’m glad she decided to remember Eren; it’s awful to forget to ones we loved in the past, we shouldn’t forget them, after all, they made us feel beautiful things, thanks to them we gained fantastic memories, why should we completely remove them from our life? Feelings can change, they will change, and Mikasa will change her romantic feelings towards Eren, it’s simply natural, but asking her to forget him is cruel; Levi won’t forget his dead friends, Armin won’t forget his grandfather, Eren won’t forget his mum, and it’s beautiful this way.

Now, let’s get into the spicy of this post: the kiss. Let me the transform in a love specialist (I’m nobody XD). I really don’t see anything romantic in it. Really, is probably the most tragic and sad among Eremika’s interactions because it shows how Mikasa’s feelings have never been reciprocated; she already tried to kiss him, in season 2, and he “rejected” her (that wasn’t a explicit reject but, if I’m not wrong, he didn’t try the Coordinate before so he didn’t know if it worked, he preferred to risk his life instead of kissing her. Actually, that’s also Eren’s personality), and now, yeah she managed to kiss him, but he was dead, he couldn’t kiss her back, couldn’t say anything, couldn’t reject her. I think that at this point, Mikasa already knew Eren wasn’t in love with her, she isn’t stupid, and she saw that kiss as a way to set herself free completely, to close a chapter of her life.

Another thing: I really don’t understand how can EM shippers say that Eremika is canon just because they kissed, sorry, Mikasa kissed him?? A simple kiss doesn’t make a couple canon, you have to analyze the feelings behind it. Why many of them can’t simply analyze a bit the story? Just, a bit...

• Final considerations and Rivamika

When I saw many Rivamika shippers being so happy about this chapter I really couldn’t understand, like “why are they happy if Mikasa literally kissed Eren?”. Well, at first I was very confused, the posts I read made me feel relieved, but... I wasn’t 100% convinced yet, because I was listening only to what the others said, I didn’t have my own opinion. I could see only the kiss (as a negative thing), and not all the foreshadowings we got in this chapter.

I have a certain theory but I will write a separated post about it, here, let’s discuss why that kiss isn’t a problem for us RM shippers. So, my biggest fear was that Mikasa’d live her all life mourning Eren and wouldn’t open herself to someone new, not necessarily Levi lying. Anyway, like I said before, please don’t stress yourself with rushed considerations, it’s just useless. I think that the kiss acted like as a springboard for Rivamika; like I said before, I interpreted it as a way to set herself free completely, to not have regrets because obviously, it was a thing that Mika wanted to do. Levi’s extreme care for her in this chapter, his determination when he saw that she ready to do this such painful thing made me... fly. They fought together until the end showing for the last time their chemistry and fantastic dynamic. Their interactions in this chapter were really special and I hope that there’ll be more in the future, maybe not only as a team;)

In conclusion, I loved this chapter so much, I can consider it as my favorite because, it gave me chills, for real.

I’ll start to work on my theory so yeah, this post isn’t ended yet lol. Stay tuned because there, I’ll talk only about RM so it will be... maybe more interesting from a shipper’s view. Tell me what you think about this in the comments 💜!

#rivamika #gilly bj #long post #I loved the chapter #thank you for the rivamika shippers who supported me

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katieverse · 3 years ago

Note

“I didn’t know where else to go”

for the Brettsey prompts 🥰

Prompt #1 “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Summer in Chicago gets unbearable from time to time. Just like today, as the first heatwave of the year rolled over the city. Severide and Kidd were using their weekend off to go to the cabin, ready to spend some time by the cooling lake. They invited Matt to go with them, but he wasn’t in the mood to be the third wheel. Heaven knows he already is in their apartment.

With the two of them gone, the loft is quiet. Almost unbearably quiet. He has gotten used to their chatter and laughter, or even certain other activities he had to witness on an almost daily basis.

Matt shudders at the thought, grabbing his phone to check the time. He had just taken a shower after coming home from a construction job across town. It’s just after seven in the evening, and he figures he could head over to Molly’s for a beer. He’d be fine just sitting at the bar and sipping his beer, surrounded by the rustling and murmurs of his co-workers. If he was lucky, maybe Sylvie will be there.

The thought of the blonde paramedic plasters a smile on his face, and he gets lost in his thoughts. Just two weeks ago, he helped her move into her new apartment, and as a thank you, he had baked him his favorite cake.

Lemon tart.

Instead of bringing it to the firehouse, she had invited him to her new place a couple of days later, and together, they had eaten the sweet treat while talking about everything under the sun. He additionally helped her fix one of her cabinets, which earned him more smiles and promises of more cake if he ever felt like it again.

He loves her smile.

If he’s honest, he likes a lot of things about her, and that realization hasn’t come yesterday. He’s been aware of it for a while now, at least a few weeks, if not months. She slowly crept up on him, and now he longs to spend as much time as possible with her.

The potential of Sylvie being at Molly’s is enough for him to start the walk back to his room, but he’s stopped by a knock on the door. He isn’t expecting anyone, so his brow furrows. When he opens the door just a second later though, he is pleasantly surprised.

“Sylvie, hi,” he greets the blonde on the other side. “What are you doing here?”

His heart beats fast in his chest, and he tries to casually lean against the opened door. However, his forearm misses the side of it, and he stumbles in his spot. He tries to mask his embarrassment with an equally awkward hand gesture until his hand closes tightly around the metal of the door.

If Sylvie noticed his floundering movements, she chooses not to comment on it, but by the way she’s nibbling on her bottom lip, he knows she didn’t. She’s too preoccupied with overthinking something.

“Everything OK?” He tilts his head to the side as he opens the door further. “Do you wanna come in?”

Sylvie finds his eyes, blinking at him with hesitation for a moment, but ultimately, she nods and steps past him. He notices the bag hanging over her shoulder then. It’s not the purse she usually brings to Molly’s. It resembles her CFD bag more than anything.

“I’m sorry to barge in here like this,” she starts then, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I texted Stella, and she said it’d be OK, but I don’t want to intrude.”

Her words are fast, and truthfully, they don’t make much sense to him. What did she ask Stella?

It’s his turn to blink at her, and with a deep breath, he steps closer to her. He cups her elbow, rubbing his thumb over her bare skin. He has learned a while ago that he could easily ground her with a simple touch, and today isn’t any different. She immediately relaxes against his warm hand, her shoulders sagging.

“You have to elaborate on that, Sylvie. What did you ask Stella?” Matt questioned her, curving his back to catch her eyes.

The blonde paramedic sucks in a deep breath. “A pipe burst in the apartment under mine, and they had to shut off the water. I asked Stella if I could stay with you guys for a day or two, and she offered me the couch. I didn’t know where else to go.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she lets out the breath she was holding. Her blue eyes are focused on him, and she rapidly blinks again. When he doesn’t immediately answer, she continues, “I guess I should have asked you too because you live here too, but I—”

“It’s fine, Sylvie,” Matt stops her. “I don’t mind. You can stay as long as you want. You’re welcome anytime.”

He means it, but at the same time, he questions his sanity. Severide and Kidd won’t be back until tomorrow night, which means they would be alone for over a day. With his feelings for her resurfacing more often than not these days, he isn’t sure this was a good idea. Then again, Sylvie is in the dire need of a place to stay, and he’d do anything for her.

As if on cue, the blonde places her hands against his forearm, her long fingers wrapping loosely around it. It makes him hyper-aware of their closeness, and his eyes snap up to hers.

“Thanks, Matt. I appreciate it.” Her voice is warm, just like her hand against his skin. “I’d rather spend time with you than with Chloe and Cruz. They are probably still in their newlywed phase.”

Her joke breaks the ice, and they share a laugh. Being with her is as easy as breathing, and maybe this extra time with her could be a blessing for them.

#brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey #prompt

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hotchnersbiitch · 4 years ago

Text

Worth Fighting For

A/N: SEND ME REQUEST PLZ

Request: @jojosgirlkat1dluvr

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Category: angst & fluff at the end

Warning: kidnapping, violence. Heavily based off the episode titled Revelations 2x15, so if for some weird reason you haven't seen that episode this will contain major spoilers I guess??

Word Count: 2,003~ 8min

You groan as you woke up in a dark room that smelt awful. Your face was throbbing in pain, you went to touch your face when you realized your hands were handcuffed to a chair. Where were you? The last thing you remember was being with JJ to talk to a possible witness but you both discovered that he was the unsub. Tobias? You think that was his name, he ran around back you and JJ split up to look for him. Next thing you know you were hit in the head, now you're in a dirty cabin.

“Shit.” You mumble out of pain looking down at your handcuffed hands trying to see if there was a way out.

“Watch your language.” A loud threatening voice called out, the man from earlier was standing in front of you, your eyes went wide.

“Colossians 3:8; But now you must also rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips.” The man recited as he pulled out a revolver and one silver bullet holding the bullet up to your face.

“This, this is God’s will.” He says loading the bullet into the gun and spinning the chamber before pointing it directly at your forehead.

“Y-you don't have to do this.” You stutter out, fearing for your life.

“Yes I do,” he mumbled, next thing you heard was the pull of the trigger. click

The whole team was at Tobias’ house trying to find a way to get you back. Your best friend Spencer was losing his mind, he was so worried about you. You guys have been best friends before you even joined the BAU a few years after Spencer did. You both went to college together, you guys were inseparable. Hours passed with no luck, Spencer was worried sick but he was trying his best to stay calm and figure out where you were. Everyone was, you were the youngest of the group, everyone tried their best to protect you.

“What are you doing? Don’t, please don’t” You beg as Tobias fills a syringe with a clear liquid, you had no idea what it was.

“It helps.” He says calmly as he lines the needle up with your vein.

“Please, I don't want it. I don't want it, please.” You were crying not knowing what was going to happen to you.

“Trust me, I know.” He says as he sticks you with the needle slowly injecting you with the drug. You wince at the pain, you feel the liquid flow through your veins your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Y/N? Y/N?” you sat up off the floor in an empty, completely white room, you saw your mom standing across from you, how was this possible, she's dead. Are you hallucinating? Are you dead?

“Mom?”

“Don’t be afraid to let go, sweetie,” she said in an angelic voice, it all made sense to you now.

“I don't want to die.” You cry out to your mother.

“Then fight, what's something worth fighting for?” She asks

“Spencer.” You reply immediately, you loved Spencer so much. You don't want to leave this Earth without him knowing he’s the love of your life. You don't want to hide your feelings for your best friend anymore. You wanted a life, with him.

“Fight for him Y/N. Don't give up on him, you love him. He loves you too. Don't give up on him.” She says her voice becoming quieter and quieter.

“I love him, I love him..... I love him.”

“Guys! Guys! Get in here!” Derek yells from Tobias's computer room where Garcia was working to find you. The team rushes in gathering behind Garcia, gasping when they see the computer screen. Spencer's face went white and he started crying, JJ placed a hand on his back to comfort him, but there was no calming him down now.

“He’s killing her,” Garcia said looking away from the screen where you were being beaten. The team watched intently as the scene unfolded in front of their eyes.

“Answer me! How many members are on your team not including yourself?!” He yelled, he broke you you couldn't take anymore beating. You didn't know how much longer you could hold out.

“Seven” You mutter your voice weak.

“The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and they were thrown to the earth.” He says walking around you before standing in front of you again, you glanced at the camera that was filming you with a terrified look on your face.

“Tell me who you serve.” He demands.

“I serve you” You whimper out.

“Then chose one to die.”

“What?” You question your heart rate picking back up again.

“Your team members- chose one to die.”

“Kill me.” You meant it, you'd give your life for your team.

“Choose, and prove you'll do God's will.” He says as he pulls out the revolver again spinning the chamber before pressing it to your forehead.

“Choose.”

“I won't do it.” he pulled the trigger. Nothing.

“Life is a choice, now choose.”

“No.” he pulled the trigger again. Nothing

“Choose.”

“I...” You thought for a moment before a plan arose in your head.

“I choose... Spencer Reid,” you utter out.

“He’s a classic narcissist, he thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team because of his intelligence. Genesis 23:4 “Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility. For these shall be his recompense.”

Spencer shook his head, immediately knowing what you were doing.

“That's wrong,” Spencer says.

“She doesn't mean it, man, she's under tremendous stress,” Morgan says and Spencer shakes his head wiping his puffy eyes.

“I know that I'm not a narcissist. But she does know that I know what she means.” He says the team gives him a perplexed look waiting for him to elaborate.

“Y/N and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism not too long ago, and she knew that I would remember that, and she also quoted Genesis, chapter 23, verse 4. ‘I am a stranger and a foreigner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may bury my dead out of my sight.’ She wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose. She's in a cemetery.” He explained in a broken voice.

“She's telling me where she is,” he adds.

“Okay, uh....” Garcia says typing away on the computer. Hotchner leans over her and points to the screen.

“What's that patch of green there?” He asks.

“Marshall Parish. I think it is an old plantation” Garcia responds.

“Wait!” Spencer says running to get one of Tobias's journals flipping it open before rushing back in.

“Tobias wrote in his journals about staying clean and keeping away from Marshall,” Spencer says passing the journal around to the team.

“Guys, there's a cemetery on the grounds,” Garcia says.

“She's there guys, Garcia send us the address. We have to go before its too late!” Spencer yells running out to the SUVs with everyone else. He was so scared he’d never see you again, he had to hurry.

You woke up to the man taking off your handcuffs, you panicked, what was happening?

“What are you doing?” You ask as the handcuffs dropped to the floor, suddenly he grabbed you by the hair dragging you outside. You screamed out in pain as he dragged you out to the cemetery, he drops you before throwing a shove at you.

“Dig,” he says sternly, you sobbed and did as he said scared as to what may happen if you didn't obey. You hoped Spencer got your message and the team was on their way to come save you. You dug for what felt like hours but was only several minutes, you felt weak, you needed to escape. You didn't think your team was going to find you in time. You looked at the man before you swung the shovel hitting him in the leg. He fell to the ground and you took this chance to run the best you could, you could see flashlights in the distance, was that them?

“HELP! I’M OVER HERE! SPENCER! GUYS!” You screamed with all the power you had hobbling as fast as you could, you saw them coming closer to you. Suddenly you felt something hard hit the back of your head and a gunshot echo through the night.

You woke up to bright lights blinding you, you groan closing your eyes again, your whole body ached.

“Y/N?” You heard Spencer’s voice.

“Is she waking up?” You heard Derek ask. You were alive, you were safe, you felt comfort wash over you. You forced your eyes open.

“Thank God...I’m alive” You mumble looking around seeing your team all around you.

“Yeah, babygirl you're alive,” Derek says quietly, you look over at him and smile at him.

“How are you feeling?” Emily asked walking over to you.

“Like shit.” You say with a small chuckle.

“Yeah, I’d imagine you were hit over the head with a shovel,” Emily says matching your vibe with a small laugh.

“That's what that was? I thought I got shot, I felt something hit me and I heard a gun go off and then everything went black.” You explain, the whole team was standing around now listening.

“No, you weren't shot. Spencer shot Tobias right after he hit you.” Aaron explains, abruptly everything came rushing back to you.

“Spencer...” you mumble looking over to him tears pooling in your eyes you grabbed his hand.

“I knew you'd understand. I knew you would.” You mumble before you started crying. Spencer started crying too and nodded.

“Yeah, I understood immediately. That was brilliant, I’m so glad you thought of that because otherwise... We may not have found you.” He says with a sniffle. You look around at everyone tears flowing down your face.

“Thank you guys, so much. I was so afraid, I thought I’d never see you guys again.” You admit, JJ and Garcia were crying now too. Derek looked like he was about to, you were so happy to be alive. After a while, everyone said their goodbyes and said they would all be back tomorrow to pick you up since you had to stay in the hospital overnight. Soon enough it was just you and Spencer, you were grateful you two were alone now.

“Spence, will you stay the night with me tonight? I’m scared to be alone. I know there are doctors around and stuff but I'm scared.” You admit, Spencer sat next to you and grasped your hand.

“Yes of course. You don't have to explain yourself, I figured you would ask anyways.” He says softly, he looked like a wreck from hours of crying and worrying.

“You were the only thing keeping me alive.” You say softly looking down at your hands that were intertwined together, you resumed.

“You're the only reason I didn't give up. I didn't want to die... I didn't want to die before I could tell you I love you... I love you so much, more than a friend.” You said not making eye contact with him, it was quiet for a moment before you heard Spencer crying, which in turn made you start to tear up as well.

“I was worried I was never going to be able to tell you I love you either.” He says with a small smile on his face as tears streamed down his cheeks, he continued.

“I love you too, I've been hiding it for so long. I was so scared I'd never get the chance to tell you.” He admitted you smiled at him as he brought your hand to his lips kissing it gently.

“You're my hero Spencer Reid, I love you.” You say looking at him with eyes full of admiration for him he smiles softly kissing your knuckles.

“I love you too.”

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iidascalves · 4 years ago

Text

The Sorcerers’s Cabin (Shinsou x Reader fantasy au)

Hello! So I’ve been a little unmotivated lately to write but I hope to change that soon lol. Don’t be shy to send me an ask! I’m thinking of writing for some other animes besides BNHA but there’s so many I’m having a hard time choosing. Let me know if anything comes to mind :)

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

“Bakugou! Mina! Wrap it up, we need to get out now!” You yelled to the rest of your team as your blade clashed against the rusted, chipped daggers of the goblins you were escaping.

While traveling through a dense forest en route to a town being disturbed by a gang of petty thieves. With the thieves getting more and more aggressive, Bakugou decided on leading you guys through the woods as a shortcut. However, as you, Bakugou, Kirishima, Sero, and Ashido were cooking stew for supper, you noticed Denki hadn’t returned from his toilet trip. Sero offered to check on him and walked the surrounding trails until he found pieces of Denki’s elaborate outfit. He called you and the others.

The scattered belts, feathers, and vials led to a small dirt cavern entrance in the base of a large tree. The smell coming from the hole was putrid. The smell of rotting food and perhaps remains made you pinch your nose closed.

“You guys think he’s down there?” Mina whispered.

Bakugou grunted and pinched his nose tighter.

“Smells like shit. Why would he be down there?”

“Judging by the smell and his shit being thrown around, I’m guessing he was snatched by goblins.” You whispered to the group, your eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“These bastards are nasty. We’ll have to move fast.” Sero’s body was tense. He was ready to pounce down into the caverns and retrieve his friend.

“There’s always a lot of them down there so stay alert and take out as many as you can.” Kirishima and Bakugou were the main battle strategics of your posey. Although Bakugou was strategic in battle, his hot headed nature often led him to make rash decisions.

“Let’s get the fuckers.” Bakugou practically growled as he descended into the cave.

The smell became more and more intense as you descended. You tugged your handkerchief over your nose and listened to the nearby sounds of celebration. There were growls and screeches of excitement. You soon saw what the goblins were ogling over.

The five of you crouched and peeked from a corner as a horde of goblins picked at the outfit of an unconscious Denki. Out of everyone in the group, Denki had an elaborate outfit than all of you put together. He always sported fancy hats and handkerchiefs. Before stealth missions he had to take off the numerous noisy belts and clanking potions from his person before preceding. None of you knew why he dressed so flamboyantly. But after traveling together for a good two years, you had all gotten accustomed to it by now.

Denki was passed out behind the bars of a log prison, fashioned from materials in the forest. There were piles around the cavern dedicated to different treasures such as swords, vials, and coins.

The frenzy of grabby hands halted when torches were lit and illuminated a large figure in the middle of the crowd.

A grotesque, giant goblin stood soaking in the praise from the others. You looked to your group. Their faces were filled with both worry and determination. Your eyes met with Bakugou and you knew his signal was soon to come.

“My subjects!” The many chins of the slimy had goblin giggled as his voice boomed from his throat. “We will treat this feast as any other. Celebration and distribution of goods will happen after our catch is stripped and devoured.” Cheers echoed from the crowd, causing the large goblin to take a pause to soak them in. “I promise you will all get a piece.” Before the colossal goblin could reassure his people any more, Bakugou sprung from his crouching position and forced his exploding fist into the goblin’s face. Once Bakugou acted, you all sprung into action.

Sero and Kirishima made a path over to Deki and wrangled him from the greedy arms of the goblins. Mina and Bakugou went wild, taking out as many goblins as they could.

You made sure to keep the exit path clear. The last thing you needed was to be blocked by a wave of little smelly bastards right before your escape. After Denki was secured, Sero hauled him out of the cave along with Kirishima.

“Kiri! We have to get far away from here! These tunnels run deep. More will be here soon.” Kirishima gave you a stoic smile and nod as he ran out of the cavern. Kirishima had the task of shifting into his dragon form. This would allow you all to make a quick escape.

“Bakugou! Mina! Hurry it up!”

Bakugou was still ravaging the goblins in his usual bloodthirsty manor. Mina shot balls of acid from her hands as she began making a path through the mass of creatures.

“We’re coming, (y/n)!” Mina shouted as she marched through the crowd. Bakugou followed behind her, still beating the shit out of the army.

Once out of the sea of flailing swords, Mina and Bakugou ran towards Kirishima. He had transformed into his ginormous dragon form. He snorted, urging you three to hurry up. You held the grimy beasts off as Mina and Bakugou passed you and mounted Kirishima.

“(Y/n), get the fuck on, dumbass!” Bakugou screamed at you from the back of the massive crimson dragon.

You were walking backwards, trying to evade the attacks of the three goblins closing in on you. With all the strength you could muster you swung your sword as hard as you could against the blade of the closest goblin. Upon the sound of the two blades colliding, you turned and bolted towards Kiri.

“Go!” You shouted as you were sprinting towards your crew. The leaves on the forest floor stirred from the wind of Kirishima’s wings. He pumped them up and down, his large clawed feet slowly leaving the ground.

You desperately leapt for the bottom of Kirishima’s tail. You landed on the hard, scaly skin with a slam and hugged the muscular tail with all the strength your arms possessed.

As you felt the air around you quicken, a sudden, sharp pain came upon your right calf.

You head swung over your shoulder. Through your waving hair you could see a rusty dagger plunged into your leg. Your entire calf seared in pain as you tried to hold on to Kirishima’s thick tail as you gained altitude.

“Hold on, (Y/n)!” You heard Mina’s voice over the screaming wind. “Sero! Grab her!”.

The panic in her voice made your heart pound. Your arms began to lose their hold on the tail.

“This fucking wind!” You looked ahead to see Sero shooting tape from his elbows, just for it to be blown away by the swirling wind. You began to panic even more. You were several hundred feet above the ground at this point. If you fell you might die. Or at least break several bones. Your limbs acted by themselves out of panic. You scrambled for something, anything to grip onto. You slowly began to slide off the slippery scales.

You forgot to breathe as your world turned clockwise and you felt your body slide off the scales.

“(Y/n)!” A panic chorus of your name was all you heard as your hands disconnected from the smooth crimson scales and wind whipped around your body. A harsh whistle filled your ears, and your hair whipped violently into your face as your vision focused on the blue sky before going completely dark.

——————————————————-

It was dark. Your sheets were soft and clean. Your head shifted on the soft pillow that cradled your head. Through your closed eyelids, you sensed a light. Had Mina forgotten to put out her candle again? Was Mina in the room? What about the others? Where were they?

You suddenly remembered falling from Kirishima and your body jolted with panic. Your eyes snapped open to be greeted with the interior of a pleasant cottage. A fire was crackling next to your bed mat. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling and pickled plants and products in delicate jars adorned the shelves.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows to get a better look of the room.

A black cat was sitting on a large red chair in the corner. His yellow eyes watched you as his tail swung back and forth behind him.

You began to hear footsteps on dirt behind you. Someone was approaching the cabin. You looked for your sword. Perhaps your captor took it. Your captor was approaching the cabin. Was he your captor? You weren’t restrained in any way.

You braced yourself to face them as the metal latch clicked. You turned to look over your shoulder at the door as it opened.

Your eyes found those of the man entering the cabin. His eyes were an enchanting, soft purple. His matching hair was messy and stuck up from his head. The whites of his eyes grew for a second upon seeing you.

“Oh. You’re awake.” His voice was deep. Almost enchanting. “Mind telling me who you are?” The stranger set a bag of sticks and small logs by the fireplace and squatted next to your bedside. A lump festered in your throat. You were unprepared for the intensity of his stare.

“W-who are you?” You pusher yourself up more so you were now sitting upright on the mat. The stranger paced over to a nearby stool and sat. He laced his fingers and stared back at you.

“I suggest you answer my question first.” His legs widened their stance as he leaned forward to loom over you. He was goddamn intimidating. But you weren’t going to let a stranger rattle you like this. You decided to challenge him, wether it was to be stubborn or just to challenge his control of the situation.

“And what if I do-.” The remaining words were stuck in your throat. His violet eyes twinkled as his lips pulled into a smirk.

He decided to supply an explanation when your blank eyes remained wide with panic.

“You see, I am a sorcerer. Although I am a pretty good healer, I specialize in a certain ability: brainwashing.” He shifted on his stool, crossing his legs before continuing. “So I’ll ask again. Who are you?”. Damn this smug bastard. Before you could even think to stop yourself, words began escaping past your lips.

“(Y/n). I was separated from my party when we got attacked by goblins.”

“I see.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you with the league?” You knew what he was talking about. A group of powerful individuals with abilities who have been causing trouble throughout multiple kingdoms.

“No.” You responded flatly. His smirk molded into a kind smile as he sat himself back upright.

“Alright. You seem okay to me.” Suddenly you snapped back into reality. Control over your mouth and body returned to you.

“What the fuck was that for?” You glared at him with a furious look.

He shrugged and smirked once again.

“You weren’t giving me an answer.” His smirk faltered under your spiteful gaze. “Don’t give me that look. I’m the one who dragged your ass back here and healed your fucked up leg.”

Your eyes drifted to your leg that was tucked carefully under the blue blanket you had been given. But, your eyes returned to his face, still glaring.

“Let me introduce myself.” You softened your glare into a slightly judge mental gaze and let him continue. “My name is Shinsou. As you know, I’m a sorcerer. I’m a loner who likes to take in stray cats and garden.” A soft smile began to appear on your face. He returned it and tilted his head towards your leg. “How’d your leg get so fucked up?”.

You appreciated this newly found warm energy. He seemed more kind and inviting.

“I got shanked by a goblin when I was escaping their lair.” He nodded while his face held a surprised expression.

“That explains the stab wound. But why did I find you in a tree?”

“Well, my friend is a skin-changer. He transforms into a dragon.” Shinsou’s eyes widened. “And because of my leg, I couldn’t get a good grip on him as he flew away and I fell.” Shinsou remained surprised at your story. Perhaps it was because you were so nonchalant about both being stabbed and having a friend able to morph into a dragon.

“Oh.” He was quiet for a second. “How do you think you’ll find them again?”

“We were on our way to a town that was being disturbed by a gang of bandits. I’ll head there when I’m able.” You patted your leg. “How long until I can walk on it?” He smiles at your positivity and eagerness.

“I’d give it about four more days. The wound wasn’t that deep but I want to make sure it’s not getting infected.” His playful smirk returned as he saw you huff.

“What am I supposed to do until then?” You huffed and flopped back onto the bed.

“You can always help me around here. Sorting herbs, organizing texts and books, helping me cook. There’s plenty to do.”

So, with that you spent the next four days helping Shinsou around his house and property. He would carry you out to the garden so you could pick fruits and vegenatbles, he would have you cut up different ingredients for his delicious soups and stews. You enjoyed his company and calm lifestyle.

After dinner on the fourth night you and him were sitting in front of the fire. His large black cat curled up on your lap. A cup of tea warmed your hands as you breathed in the comforting smells of Shinsou’s cabin for what may be the last time. Your eyes admired the cabin. The colorful herbs hanging, the shelves cramped with papers and large books. Your eyes eventually found Shinsou’s handsome face. He was staring into the fire calmly. His violet eyes reflecting the bright flames. His soft gaze was enough to make your chest hurt. His messy hair was sticking up in all directions, as if he had just rolled our of bed.

“What if you came with me?” His head turned to you.

“What?” Shinsou was startled and confused by your sudden proposal.

“What if you came with me? To the village. Meet my friends. We can travel together.” You remained calm and determined.

“They wouldn’t like me.” He looked back to the flames. You scooted closer to him and rested your hand on his forearm.

“They would. I didn’t think I’d like you. But here we are.” You smiled at him.

“Hey!” He frowned at you jokingly. Not sure wether to be offended or not. You laughed and patted his arm.

“Just think about it. You can place a spell over your cabin so no one will bother it. I know my friends would like you. You’ve helped me so much. An invitation to travel with us is the least I can do.”

Shinsou was quiet. His eyes remained fixated on the flames. He was deep in racing thoughts.

“Okay.” Shinsou’s eyes returned to you.

“Really!” You squirmed on your bed mat and grabbed his arm in excitement.

He groaned and his face flushed pink.

“Yeah, don’t make me change my mind.” He tried to cover his smile with annoyance, but you saw through. The flames flickered light onto his soft smile. You hugged his arm close to you and set your head against his shoulder. The two of you watched the light of the flames dance and listened to the crackling wood. In between the crackles of the fire, you could hear the deep, calm breaths coming deep from within Shinsou’s chest. You allowed the calming breaths and crackling flames to lull you to a deep, dreamless sleep. Your head rested comfortably on Shinsou’s shoulder until the sun rose, signaling the start of your new journey.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fantasy au #mha imagines #mha oneshot

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katcadecascade · 4 years ago

Text

ORV DND Episode 2

The GM tells us five PC that Main Scenario #2 has begun right as the bus we’re in breaks down in the middle of the road.

It’s called The Guide where we have to meet some guide, meaning that now things are going to divert from canon Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint. My GM friend already warned me not to expect the scenarios to be the same but I’m still paranoid to what’s to come because then this sub scenario pops up.

Sub Scenario: Survive Mental Prison.

A fog cloaks our surroundings and we must roll a constitution check. Two PC use their attribute skills to be immune to the fog, while the rest of us roll our dice. I succeed but the other two PC fail and thus describe their selves in a state of panic.

It takes a while for us to drag those two out of the bus as we run to the safety of an abandoned convenient store. Along the way we had to discard half our of equipment to speed up our progress. It took a lot of our braincells to remember that our suitcases can weigh us down.

Anyway we escape the fog and rest in the store. We eat some food, rest up, have our PCs interact and name a cat Sprinkles.

Okay so I forgot to mention this in the last episode post, there was a cat that I thought about killing for the first scenario but in the end I choose to kill a person. As for the cat, well it killed a rat and survived. Does this cat have a constellation sponsor? I don’t know.

We’re still deciding what to do at this point. Our only leads are from an email that brought us all to that bus that was supposed to take us to Disneyland. Our best guess is that Disneyland is where our guide for the second scenario is.

And then busting out of the employee only door is a bunch of hooded people. These new NPCs are clearly in a well organized group, they have gas masks and bags full of food. The NPC with a sword interrogates us, asking how we survived the first scenario. The PCs who only killed insects or a plant are open about it but me and last PC reluctantly share that we killed people.

From an insight roll, the NPCs were not expecting that. My guess was that they also killed people and to hear that there was another way pass that to survive was tough to realize.

The sword NPC then tells us that there are people sheltered in a mall nearby. Their group has it barricaded and their leader sent them out to get more food supply. We get to talking a bit more and with some high charisma rolls we learn something important.

The NPCs shared that they were from different Scenario #1 groups and that their Scenario #2 are also different.

As a reader of ORV, I did not see that coming. Lowkey, I did expect the GM to directly use canon scenarios but the idea of people getting different scenarios and advancing at different paces did not form in my brain.

One PC raises the question of what if these NPCs has a scenario to kill us.

Another PC suggests we have the cat do a vibe check.

Sprinkles the cat looks at the NPCs and meows in approval.

So we go with them. They give us their extra gas masks and we go through the fog and reach a mall. If you’ve ever seen Netflix’ Daybreak, the mall is like that, the shuttered pulled down and barricaded. Inside we meet the leader of all these hoods.

I quickly realize this is like a thuggish version of Inho Cheon and Geumho Station. This leader NPC believes in survival of the fittest and gathers other strong people to follow his lead. The mall has the same division of power, people who have low stats and have to pay a coin fee to the leader’s group of high stat people.

This leader NPC is also okay for any of us to leave the mall, he expects us to die but still, we have the option to leave. Problem is that the Mental Prison fog is still out there so we hatch a plan to steal some gas masks before we bail this place.

Meanwhile, we get a tour of the place. Again it’s kind of like Geumho Station where the scavenger group gets access to the food supply but also the mattresses store, and running water while the large group of low stats people gets none of that. Classic power imbalance, yah know.

But then my entire being stops when the NPC casually points at the movie theater and says, “That’s the theater dungeon.”

The other PCs get confused and poke fun at the dungeon part, thinking this NPC made a sex dungeon until they get the explanation that the theater itself really is a dungeon and people with low stats died in there while his strong group survived.

As for me, out of character I tell my friends, “I’m going into the theater dungeon no matter what.”

“All we do is give our characters pain,” a PC comments.

Anyway, we wander off to talk about how to steal or buy off the gas masks because one, our Scenario #2 is probably not here and two, this place is sketchy as fuck. Sprinkles has been hissing at the leader and we all agree with this cat.

This is where I turn to the GM and ask to roll for my personal skill to predict the future.

So this is how the GM and I hatched out this skill. My PC is not a true prophet like Anna Croft cause that’ll be too overpowered. We decided on using percentile dice and make my skill into an accuracy reading on what routes I pick. If you know about the fortune teller from the Danganronpa series, its like that.

So I ask questions on what would happen if we stay here and if we can leave safely. I roll sort of high and the GM messages me this.

There will be a bloody fight in the future, innocents will die, you may not leave.

Again, the GM reminds me that this is only like a seventy percent accurate. Nonetheless, me and my PC are shocked and scared. I retell my accursed knowledge to the other PCs and things are looking grim.

That’s when a kid NPC approaches us, asking if we’re strong. This kid tells us his friend went into the theater dungeon and hasn’t came out yet.

Before a PC could say ‘you’re friend is probably dead’ a sub scenario pops up.

It’s basically a rescue quest to save the kid’s friend. From the two hour time limit, the friend is still probably alive we guess. What really catches out attention is the reward of having this NPC use a skill to increase our bond or power with our constellation sponsors. We take up the the quest and head off to the theater.

There the sword NPC from earlier is guarding the entrance and warns us that we might die but the rewards are pretty good. Then she asks if we’re really taking our cat with us.

Sprinkles has chosen only one PC to be his designated human so that PC tries to hand off Sprinkles to the care of the NPC.

“Wait just a second,” our GM announces and we hear the roll of a dice.

Sprinkles decides no, jumps out of the arms of the NPC and runs into the theater dungeon.

Things are going great.

We head into the theater, its just the main lobby and two hallways. We see Sprinkles head to the left hallway but we try to investigate the lobby first. We get some clues about the NPC we’re supposed to rescue but not enough to know where he is. Eventually we decide to go left and trust the cat is leading us in the right direction.

The hallway has posters with slash marks, later explained to be done by the sword girl NPC accompanying us. She’s just here for the cat. Sword NPC explains how this dungeon works and like canon, we would get sucked into the movie according to its poster. We make jokes about avoiding Avengers: Infinity War.

Anyway we spy Sprinkles at the end of the hallway in front of a movie poster that has not been slashed out.

GM has us roll perception. Four of us roll low and only get a look at some woodland picture. We all make guesses like Pet Cemetery, Blair Witch, Cabin in the Woods.

The PC who rolled high gets messaged the movie name.

“Guys,” the PC is almost choked up in shock but exclaims, “It’s Bambi!”

We all go ‘oh no’ and think it can’t be that bad right? We go approach the poster and get sucked in.

We appear in cottage in winter, dressed in hunting gear and the GM tells us that we are freezing and starved. Oh and we all have shotguns.

Outside we explore and see a bunch of animals, two of which are deers.

Yeah, we’re in Bambi alright.

Somewhere along the way, we think the way to get out of here is to shoot every other animal but the deers. It takes a while cause some of us rolled low, argued about the ethics of this, pull the trigger, and we make it out with the shotguns as our rewards.

We head off to the other hallway, similarly enough there’s only one unslashed poster for us.

Again we do a perception roll and again only one of us rolls high to be messaged by the GM.

“Wait, is this the reboot or original?”

“Original.”

“Guys, it’s Dumbo.”

At this point, we’re convinced all this Disney stuff really is a clue for us to go to Disneyland. Like, that’s why we were all on the bus right when the first scenario started. It’s all. an elaborate. conspiracy.

So we enter the movie and appear backstage of a circus tent. The ringmaster yells at us to prepare for our acts. We split up into pairs. The clowns are up first.

“Why did the chicken cross the road?” PC says rather dully, evident in their frowny face clown makeup.

I honestly don’t remember the end of that joke because immediately it was a low performance roll and everyone, including us PCs, booed.

Smiley face PC holds up a large peanut bag and asks, “Want some of deetz nutz?”

That gets the crowd roaring with laughter except for the mysterious cloaked figure in the audience.

The clown PCs notice this and tries to do a fire extinguisher prank to hose the NPC out. It doesn’t work that well as they got other audience members and the ringmaster kicks the clowns backstage. They warn the rest of us about the cloaked figure right as me and my PC partner are suddenly up high for our trapeze act.

PC partner unfortunately rolls low for acrobatics and is falling. I roll high to swing on a rope and catch them and we basically recreate the Rewrite the Stars song. During that we notice the cloaked figure is leaving the audience. We both get the brilliant idea of me throwing my partner at the cloak figure.

Yeah, um, PC ends up pile diving on the audience. Nonetheless that PC chases after the cloaked figure as the third act begins. Basically its the fifth PC and the NPC riding horses through rings of fire. They do really well.

Back with the mysterious cloaked figure, PC confronts them but the only response is this NPC throwing smoke bombs into the tent and running away.

Pink smoke spreads out through the circus tent and the GM tells us to roll for a constitution saving throw. The entire audience and half of the party suddenly become drunk and a PC explains in horror that this is the pink elephant scene from Dumbo.

I do not remember much from the movie so my friend explains that this infamous scene is about Dumbo getting drunk on champagne. Wow.

Anyway me and another PC have to watch over our drunk party members. It does not help that they still have the shotguns and they want to shoot at the birds they see in their drunken state.

Meanwhile, the last sober PC runs out to find the mysterious cloaked figure who caused this but no. Instead the GM gives that PC a bunch of angst and describes how this stressing situation is enough to give the PC a panic attack. It’s all about character development, gotta give them conflict in nature to their backstory.

Backstage, I’m trying to pry away the shotguns from another PC. It does not go well and my PC gets fed up, decides fine, shoot the birds.

Low and behold, shooting the birds that’s only seen in this state is what gets us out of the movie. As we’re all relieved that we made it out, the GM points out that the mysterious cloaked NPC has also made it out with us.

We chase after him to the lobby and we manage to tackle him down. The hood is now off and we see that this NPC is the kid we’re supposed to rescue in the first place. But there’s obvious something off, his eyes are glowing.

Classic signs of mind control.

The NPC struggles out of hold and suddenly the lobby starts to slip apart before our very eyes. Our allied sword NPC tells us that this should not be happening, that this is not normal as the theater lobby shifts to become a battle ring.

Next to the mind controlled NPC, two caricatured figures appear, also with glowing eyes. A PC manages to perceive the nametags they’re wearing, one is labeled ‘Dumb.’

We all immediately guess we’re somehow in Wonderland without a movie poster. Right as we’re doing that, the GM rolls a die and the mind controlled NPC shapeshifts to look like one of us PC.

We roll for initiate.

Okay not really, that’s where we called it a night. You all have no idea how excited I was when I learned that the theater dungeon is here. Like I was grinning so much. So what I got so far is that GM is pulling plot devices from canon as resources but yah know, twisting it into their own direction.

Thanks for reading!

#orv dnd #orv #dnd #ahhhh #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader

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heart-of-gold-outlaw · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome Home: Arthur Morgan x Modern!Reader (3/?)

Chapter Three: Dirty Rotten Bastards

Ao3

Wattpad

"So," Dutch says as he walks over to where you're sitting by the campfire. His expression is borderline unreadable. "Hosea told me about your hunting trip."

You wiggle a stick in the air, trying to make it look like a piece of string. "Yep."

"And Arthur told me about what happened in Valentine. With George Foreman."

Snapping the stick in half, you toss it into the fire, watching it ignite with a strange sort of fascination. "Uh-huh."

Dutch sighs and moves until he's standing in your line of sight. "Y/N," he says, voice low and entirely too serious, "you need to be more careful, darlin'. You ain't from here. What'll happen when Hosea and Arthur aren't there to keep you from getting into trouble?"

You shrug. "Guess I'll die."

Of course, of course, the meme goes right over Dutch's head. He stares at you, mouth slightly agape as concern immediately floods his eyes. You internally groan. You'll have to keep reminding yourself that morbid humor doesn't mean the same thing in the past as it does in your time. Still, you stick to your guns and don't elaborate. Let Dutch figure it out for himself.

"And Hosea," he eventually grinds out, "told me about that kind of talk from you."

At this point, you decide to check out of the conversation. If he's just going to lecture, you'll wait for him to climb on his soapbox again. Thankfully, Dutch seems to get the hint and leaves. You sigh. You know he's just looking out for you, as he looks out for everybody else in the gang. Still: it's annoying. You don't need a father. Not right now.

The sun rises over the mountains off in the distance, and you go about getting ready for the day. Abigail and John argue about who knows what, and you find yourself drifting toward their conversation. You know John doesn't do nearly enough to help with Jack. Abigail does most of the work. The thought alone makes your blood curdle. John's a goddamn father. The least he can do is take some responsibility and act like one.

Speak of the devil, John finishes arguing and goes off to sulk. You glare at him as he passes. He doesn't seem to notice, though, which is probably a good thing. Sighing, you decide to check on Abigail. She's furiously scrubbing something or another, but looks up at you when you approach. You watch her try her best to put on a facade.

"How you doin', Y/N?" She asks, straightening up and setting aside the wash. "I know this's gotta be confusin' and all."

"He's a fuck-off," you blurt, jabbing a thumb over in John's general direction, completely ignoring her attempt at small talk.

Abigail blinks, clearly taken aback. For a moment, you wonder if you've said too much, but then you decide it doesn't really matter. You're only speaking the truth.

"No seriously," you continue. "What the hell's his problem? First of all: he completely ignores his kid, then has the audacity to get mad at you—you—when you're the one doing all the goddamn work!"

Briefly, Abigail looks so shocked, you almost want to apologize. But then her shoulders slump and she sighs before leaning heavily against the wagon.

"I don't know," she says. "I guess that's just the way he is."

You feel your eyebrows skyrocket. "Oh now that's some bull. Motherfucker's gonna get a piece of my mind—and my foot—if he doesn't square up."

Abigail blinks again, then laughs. "Now that's somethin' I'd like to see."

Before you can continue, you spy Arthur riding into camp. You immediately shut your mouth. Abigail frowns, then follow your gaze... and you're mortified when her eyebrows shoot up in amusement. A knowing grin spreads across her face, much to your chagrin.

"Well now," she says, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you fancy a certain rough-and-tough outlaw, Y/N."

You snap your eyes to hers. "Not even," you deny, though you can feel your face burning. "Not. Even."

Abigail shrugs and goes back to doing her wash. You look at Arthur as he feeds and waters his horse, then stare at your shoes when he glances your way. When you finally muster the courage to look up again, the corners of his lips are twitching. This, you've come to realize, is about as close to a smile as he gets.

"Y/N," he says in greeting when he walks over.

Your brain freezes momentarily, but you quickly recover. "Hey Arthur... nice weather, huh?"

If there was ever a time you wanted to die, actually die, that was it. Still, you don't bother trying to make a comeback. And lucky for you, Arthur chooses to let it go. Instead, he shrugs it off and starts walking toward the edge of camp.

You follow without really thinking. Surprisingly, you find yourself standing behind him a few feet away from the tied up O'Driscoll. Kieran, if you remember his name right. Arthur gives him a look—and you're suddenly grateful you're not on his bad side. Kieran leans away. You can see him shaking, and the stench radiating from him makes your nose scrunch up.

"Ready to talk yet, O'Driscoll?" Arthur asks as casually as if they're talking about the news.

Kieran groans. "How many times do I gotta tell you? I ain't an O'Driscoll."

"Really?" Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Ain't how it looks to me."

At that moment, Dutch walks over, followed by Bill Williamson. You're not too sure how you feel about Bill. He hasn't outright treated you poorly, but he's not the nicest guy in the gang. Then again, he is an outlaw. "Nice" isn't exactly a requirement.

"Oh who am I kidding?" Dutch says, getting close to Kieran's face. "This boy's not gonna talk. Not yet."

For the first time, Kieran seems to notice you're standing just a few feet away. His eyes find yours, wide and pleading, and your heart breaks just a little bit. You've never really paid him that much attention since Arthur found you in the Grizzlies. He was just some unlucky bastard who got mixed up in a bad scene.

"You want him to talk?" You say as you take a step closer. "Then let's make him talk. Gimme five minutes with him."

Dutch, Arthur, and Bill all stare at you like you've suddenly grown a second head. Kieran, though, just watches you warily. You can tell he can't quite figure out what game you're playing, so you give him your best smile. Honestly, you don't know what game you're playing yet, either. You're just making it up as you go.

Eventually, Dutch shrugs motions for Arthur and Bill to move away. "What've we got to lose?"

He and Bill stalk away, but Arthur lingers for a moment, glowering at Kieran with everything he has. Kieran shrinks back as far as the tree will allow.

"Try anything," Arthur warns, "and we'll have ourselves a dead O'Driscoll."

With that, he walks away. You catch him throw a glance over his shoulder, but he doesn't say anything else. Once you're sure he's out of earshot, you turn back to Kieran.

"Not an O'Driscoll, huh?" You plop down in the grass. "Me neither."

He watches you. "Then what are you?"

You shrug. "Just from the future. I know how this all ends."

It's one hell of a bluff, but you hope Kieran will take the bait. You've got a lot riding on this. Not only do you want to look good in front of the gang, you want to impress Arthur. And this seems like a good way to do it.

"H-how does it end?" Kieran, much to your delight, sounds like he believes you. The tremor in his voice is a telltale sign.

You shrug again, deciding to draw it out. "For them? Not too shabby. For you..." You give him a look. "Well... I don't think you wanna know."

// // // // //

Five minutes later, you casually approach Arthur, Bill, and Dutch. You twirl a few blades of grass between your fingers, then let them go and watch them fly away in the wind. Then, you turn to meet everyone's questioning stares.

"Y'all ever heard of Six Point Cabin?" You ask. "Kieran says that's where Colm O'Driscoll's hiding."

Bill nods. "Yeah, I know it. Ain't too far from here."

"How in the hell," Arthur says, "did you get him to talk?"

You shrug and absently draw a circle in the dirt with your foot. "I told him I'm from the future and that y'all kill him and cut up his body into fourteen pieces, then scatter them all around the Grizzlies so nobody can ever find him."

Three pairs of eyes widen as the outlaws gape at you. Eventually, though, Dutch lets out a bark of laughter and pats your shoulder.

"Nice work, Y/N," he praises. "Guess we can count on you to get things done around here."

You find yourself smiling. "Just takes a bit of skill and a whole lot of lying."

"Well then." Dutch glances around at Bill and Arthur, then back to you. "Why don't you tag along with Mr. Williamson and Mr. Morgan, see if you can't pay ol' Colm a visit?"

At this, Arthur shoots Dutch a look. "You sure?" He asks, giving you a once-over. "They still don't know how to shoot, Dutch."

You know he's right, but the last thing you want to do is stay cooped up in camp any longer. And besides: how hard could shooting a gun be? All you have to do is pull the trigger.

"Take the O'Driscoll with you," Dutch is saying, "and have Y/N watch him. Any luck, we can catch Colm unawares."

Arthur still seems uncertain, but eventually nods. "Fine." He turns to you. "Sound alright?"

"Oh absolutely." You give him a wide grin. "Let's go."

A/N: So, I know that it's been a while between updates, but life got a little hectic with the whole quarantine business. Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! Likes and comments are much appreciated!

Next Chapter: In Progress

Previous Chapter: Lionheart

Inspired Playlist Track: Green Day - “Dirty Rotten Bastards”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #modern!reader #rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #fic #fanfic #my writing #my fic #sorry for the wait y'all!

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phoenixfeatherquill · 5 years ago

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Midwinter (1/5)

AN: I’m doing a Midsommar fic and you guys can’t stop me. I’m in the mood for dark fucked up smut, so sue me. A friend on Twitter helped me with the Swedish!

They were going to kill her next.

It was only logical. Once the Midsommar celebrations were complete, once her title of May Queen was completed, once the community settled into their usual routines, Dani felt certain they would kill her. Perhaps for their next ritual. A harvest festival? A midwinter ceremony? Dani didn’t know. She didn’t especially care.

The thought did not concern her. Death was no longer something to be feared, just an inevitability she would reckon with when the time came. She had lost her sister, her parents, and now Christian…

She did not want to think about Christian. His death had brought her a euphoric, crazed delight, a sense of control that she’d never felt before.

She smiled. It was still dark, but she knew it was morning. Her body had shifted its circadian rhythms to accept darkness as a reality in the fall and winter, She smiled a lot more nowadays, it seemed.

“Dani? Are you awake?”

She shifted to her side. Her bed used to be next to Christian’s and Josh’s, but now there was no more Christian or Josh. Now her bed lay next to Pelle’s, which gave her a curious combination of fear and protection.

“Now I am,” She whispered back to him.

“It’s morning now,” He said softly and sat up. “Let’s walk together.”

She raised herself up on one elbow. No one else seemed to be up, save for a few mothers who were cooing at fussy babies.

“It’s still dark,” She murmured.

“It will get darker as we get closer to Yule. Come. It’ll be too cold for morning walks soon.”

He offered his hand to her. Pelle had been taking her on a lot of walks lately. He was an early riser naturally, something that Dani would never be able to relate to, but she shrugged nevertheless and pulled on a pair of denim shorts.

Pelle shook his head. “Too cold for those. Almost October.”

She looked at him. He knew perfectly well that she only had about a week’s worth of clothes, all summer garments. She was only supposed to have been here for a week.

“Here,” He tossed her a pair of fleece-lined pants. She’d seen him wear them before. They were far too big for her, but she was able manage them, tightening the strings as far as they would go. He gave her a sweatshirt too and she tugged it on as well. It smelled a little of peppermint and something flipped in her stomach. She hadn’t worn another man’s clothes since Christian…

“Ready?” He asked her with a smile.

“You owe me coffee,” She returned and pulled on her sneakers.

“Deal,” He took her hand in his and led her outside.

It was that odd time of morning partial to Sweden, where darkness surrounded the community but light framed the edges, as though the sun wanted to come out but wasn’t sure how. The cold grass tickled Dani’s ankles and she shivered a little. Pelle squeezed her hand a little as they began to make their usual rounds about the compound.

“I’m surprised it hasn’t snowed,” She commented.

“Soon,” Pelle told her. “Probably this week, actually. We’ll need to get you warmer clothes.”

Dani said nothing. She didn’t see much point in that, since she was fairly certain they would kill her eventually. Still, Pelle seemed to expect a response, so she said simply, “I like wearing your clothes.”

Pelle laughed. “I like you wearing them too. But they’re too tall for you. You’re so small, Dani.”

His voice was undeniably tender and Dani looked up at him. He cared for her, at least of a sort. Months and months had passed since the summer solstice. Perhaps he was fond enough of her to be truthful now.

She stopped short in front of the remains of the burned temple. The fastidious Hårga had not cleaned up much of the temple ruins; she could still see the blackened pieces of wood all around. She inhaled deeply and smelled the incoming frost Pelle warned her of—but in her mind’s eye, she could still smell the pungent stench of burning flesh.

“When will you rebuild it?” She asked him.

“Spring,” Pelle told her. “One of our rituals to welcome the sun. And you’ll preside, as our May Queen.”

Dani looked at him hard. “Will I?”

Pelle looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I’m the last one left,” She said pointedly. “How long do I have?”

Realization clouded Pelle’s sky blue eyes. “Oh, Dani…no. You are our May Queen. We won’t have another queen for ninety years; until the next Midsommar celebration…that is, we will still celebrate the solstice. But not like last time.”

Dani digested this. She doubted this meant that the Hårga would let her leave. This didn’t particularly bother her though, because Dani was having trouble remembering what there was to return to. Her family was dead, Christian was gone, and she couldn’t quite summon the energy to care about finishing her degree. She had friends that were probably wondering where she was.

“What will I do here?” She asked him.

“Whatever you please,” Pelle told her seriously. “We honor the May Queen. She is…our goddess, you might say.”

Dani considered. “What does that entail?”

“Different ceremonies,” Pelle knelt down and picked up a bit of charred wood interestedly. “A ceremony to say goodbye to the sun—we’ll symbolically say goodbye to you and you will sleep in your own rooms, rather than in the common area. When spring comes again, we welcome the sun and you back into our common area. We celebrate, we feast, we make merry—”

“Sounds lonely,” Dani said without thinking. She wasn’t sure where that came from. When she first arrived at Hårga, she’d resented the lack of privacy. The cacophony of coughs, snores, and lovemaking kept her up at all hours. But somehow she’d gotten used to it and her own chambers, separate from the Hårga seemed isolating.

“No, no,” Pelle shook his head. “We adore our May Queen. We…pamper her, you might say. The best foods, wines, ales, whatever she needs. And she may choose a consort, if she wishes.”

He tossed the charred wood towards the temple and Dani started a bit. “Consort?”

“Yes,” Pelle replied but didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. Dani waited a few moments and when she realized Pelle wasn’t going to continue, she exhaled.

“What does a consort do?” She crossed her arms.

A small, somewhat sly smile crossed Pelle’s face. “Oh…whatever the May Queen desires.”

“Ah,” Dani kicked a piece of burnt wood. “I get it. I don’t know if I’d be into that.”

Pelle cocked his head. “Oh?”

She really did not want to get into this conversation. Besides, he’d been close to Christian, hadn’t he? He probably had heard all about how bad she was in bed, how frigid she was, how there was something wrong with her. She chewed her lip. She had walked in on Christian complaining to Mark about this very subject once, and she recalled the burning humiliation and the subsequent fight.

“I don’t want to force anyone to do anything they don’t want to,” Dani said finally. “Especially with me.”

“No one forces anyone to do anything,” Pelle told her earnestly. “It’s considered an honor to be chosen by the May Queen. But people may refuse the gift, if they wish.”

“They’d refuse with me,” Dani retorted.

“What makes you say that?”

“Pelle,” Dani sighed. “I’m not stupid. I know—I know Christian complained about me to you and Mark and Josh.”

The sun had just started its slow ascent and Dani noticed its cautious gold touch the tips of Pelle’s hair. He was silent for a long moment, as though trying to pick his words carefully.

“Christian was my dear friend,” He said finally. “But he—was not always honest with himself.”

He scratched his head. “My sister was not overly impressed by him. Nor my aunts.”

Pelle was referring to the strange, outlandish sex ritual Dani had caught Christian participating in with Pelle’s underage sister. She shuddered at the memory.

“Is that what it’s like here?” She asked in disgust. “All those women watching? Chanting?”

He shrugged. “Not always. Maja wanted to get pregnant. It was her first time, so she was nervous. Our aunties were there to support her, comfort her, ask the gods for a baby.”

There was so much of Hårga culture Dani would never understand. Women crooning over her as a man penetrated her—the idea seemed repulsive. The ritual seemed to have worked, in any case; Maja had announced her pregnancy a week prior. The news had filled Dani with the strangest emotion of all—apathy. She did not care that Maja was having Christian’s baby. She had no jealousy, no anger, just blissful neutrality.

“My point is,” Pelle cleared his throat. “I thought—I have always thought—Christian was unfair to you.”

Dani narrowed her eyes. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“No,” He shook his head. “In fact…”

He hesitated for a moment and Dani stared at him curiously. The sun had nearly risen now, and people were leaving the common area to prepare breakfast and start their early morning chores.

“I would show you,” Pelle said finally. “If you were to choose me as your consort.”

Dani’s mouth went dry. She hadn’t felt this taken aback since she’d been named the May Queen and he’d taken her face in his hands and kissed her so deeply. Color rushed to her cheeks and she couldn’t figure out how to respond.

“Pelle! Jag måste prata med dig.”

Ulf was calling him. Pelle cast a almost mischievous grin towards her and jogged towards Ulf. Ulf glanced at her and gave her a cautious smile. Dani couldn’t seem to figure out how to move her legs. She watched the two men disappear around one of the cabins, speaking in rapid Swedish.

I would show you, if you were to choose me as your consort.

She hadn’t planned on choosing anyone as her consort. Spending the entire winter having her every whim catered to seemed a promising prospect (though who could really tell with the silver-tongued Hårga), but the whole concubine nonsense seemed…archaic. She didn’t need a consort. She was just fine on her own. Sex was stressful and Christian had played on every insecurity of hers when they were together, making the whole prospect seem so unappealing…it had been a relief when he stopped bothering her for sex, which only happened after her family died…

She thought of the barely concealed disgust on Pelle’s face as he’d delicately suggested that Christian had been the problem, not her. ��She was also forced to admit that she thought of his kiss more often than she should. It was not the gentle kisses on her cheeks her handmaids (as they called themselves) gave her when she was crowned, but something altogether deep and passionate.

He hadn’t kissed her again, so did it truly matter?

She started towards one of the cabins, where she knew they would be preparing breakfast. But as she crossed the commune, she couldn’t help but hear Pelle and Ulf speaking passionately.

They were standing near Pelle’s garden and hadn’t noticed her—not that they would’ve cared. Most of the Hårga believed her Swedish was rudimentary at best, and they were mostly right. But while her conversation skills were lacking, Dani understood more than they thought.

She was not an eavesdropper at any rate, so she would’ve walked on by—until she heard her name.

“Stannar du här på grund av Dani?”

She froze. She understood that sentence. Ulf was asking Pelle if he was staying because of her. In an instant, she remembered that Pelle was in university too and had not returned to finish his degree.

“Hon är ensam.”

She is…something. But by the concern in Pelle’s tone, Dani guessed he was explaining why.

“Din resa är inte slut än.”

Ulf was telling him he wasn’t finished with…a journey? His journey.

“Mitt öde är här.”

Pelle’s journey was…here. Here?

“Älskar du henne?”

She didn’t understand that one. Ulf was asking him something. Something about her.

“Ja.”

Yes. Dani shook herself. Enough snooping. She was hungry. So what if it sounded like Pelle was staying in Hårga for her? What did it matter? They would dispose of her as soon as she inevitably offended them. Like Mark. Like Josh. Pelle was too optimistic. And anyway, why should she trust him?

The memory of his lips on hers flashed through her mind. She swallowed hard.

Fuck.

#Midsommar #Dani x Pelle

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voyager-into-the-unknown · 5 years ago

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Here’s the final chapter of the Pikelavar fic I have been writing! 💙💚

There’s a bit of Hunay and a lot of Kallura in this fluffy Plance fic based on their characters from “Monsters and Mana.” AO3’s PlanceGardener21 proudly presents

“All I Want for Midwinter Is Meklavar”

Chapter 7:

Festival

When Meklavar’s family had finally left their bedroom at the Green Lion Inn, she and Pike made haste to get ready for a day of travel. Servants had delivered their clean clothes, and while Pike was behind the privacy screen to relieve himself and have a quick wash, Mek, who had already done these things, had hasilty combed her hair, removed her robe and sleeping tunic, and changed into a modest green bandeau with matching briefs. She was just putting on her warmest pair of socks when Pike stepped back into their bedroom, clad only in his brief blue underpants. They blushed at each other, but continued to quickly dress, both of them donning warm trousers, heavy under tunics, woolen outertunics, boots, belts, and cloaks. Mek didn’t bother with her armor, but had it carried down to her parents’ sleigh along with their traveling packs. Downstairs, they sought out the Innkeeper to make sure their bill was paid in full, but Meklavar’s parents had already taken care of everything. Breakfast was in the common room with Lord and Lady Holt and Mek’s brother, who had already eaten. They were content to have some more hot tea before departing, sipping it slowly while keeping Pike and Meklavar company as the young couple dined upon hot buttered bread, bacon, porridge, fruit pastries, and tea. Lady Colleena was already planning the wedding, hoping to have a huge celebration with every noble in the land in attendance at Holt Manor. And of course, she intended to have the most elaborate wedding gown imaginable designed for her daughter, but Mek wouldn’t hear of it, preferring a simple ceremony for just their close friends and family members. She would have been content to wear her armor for the ceremony, but her mother protested, claiming that Pike would rather see her in a gorgeous gown that showed off her feminine attributes.

“I’ll bet Pike has already seen most of her feminine attributes by now,” Matthias mumbled softly, hoping his mother would not overhear. However, Lord Samuel did hear his son’s comment and nearly choked on his tea. Pike blushed and looked guiltily down at his plate. Meklavar continued to argue with her mother about the wedding gown, but they stopped when Pike finally spoke up and said, “I think she will look beautiful no matter what she wears, even if she chooses to wear her finest armor, but I must confess I haven’t ever seen Meklavar in a dress, and I think she would look lovely in the gown that you’re describing, m’lady. I think that seeing her arrayed in beads and silks like an elf princess from an old faerie tale would leave an indelible impression upon my memory.”

Meklavar gaped at him and had not another word to say to her mother about the dress.

When Pike and Meklavar had finished their breakfast, the little group made their way outside into the cold where a spacious red sleigh awaited them. The servants had securely fastened their traveling packs and Mek’s armor and axe to the luggage rack at the rear of the sleigh. In the center of the vehicle were tall, upholstered seats and thick, warm blankets, and in front, a driver’s seat with reigns that were connected to a team of large shaggy snow deer. Matt vaulted into the driver’s seat and waited for his passengers to settle into their seats behind him. Lord and Lady Holt shared one of the heavy blankets in the front seat. Pike sat beside Meklavar on the back seat, arranging one of the heavy blankets over their laps, and draping one of his long arms around her narrow shoulders in an all-too-familiar way. She smiled at him and leaned into his side, wrapping her arms around his torso. He kissed the top of her head, and off they went with sleigh bells jingling, gliding smoothly across the snowy ground in the direction of Block’s village and the Midwinter Festival.

Travel by sleigh was much faster than travel on foot, and they made it to the town by mid-morning. Mek stood up and called out the directions to Block’s new home, and when they arrived, Block barreled down the front staircase of the enormous house and out onto the street to greet them, crushing both Pike and Meklavar in a mighty hug, kissing the hand of Lady Colleena and shaking hands with Lord Samuel. Matthias had lept down from the driver’s seat to hug Block as well, and he pounded Matt on the back so hard that he nearly fell over. “My friends! It is so great to see you all!”

“We’re happy to see you, too, Block!” Meklavar exclaimed, hugging her friend once more.

“We’ve missed you, buddy!” said Pike, patting him on the back. “Thanks for inviting us over for the festival.”

The front door opened once again, and Jiro and Thunder descended the staircase to exchange cheerful greetings with Pike and the Holt family.

“We’ll help with your luggage,” said the tall Paladin as he and Block began unloading their things.

Thunder looked at Matthias. “The stable is this way. I’ll help you tend to your animals.” And off they went with the empty sleigh and exhausted reindeer. The others followed Block into the house.

In Block’s spacious parlor was an enormous fir tree that Valayun and Romella were busy decorating with fairy lights, glowing baubles, and gilded pine cones. They paused in their work, turned to the guests, and dashed to embrace them all in turn.

“You must be freezing! Come and get warm by the fireplace,” said Romella.

“You can hang your cloaks over here,” said Val, indicating a nearby wall with pegs for many traveling cloaks.

“Lord and Lady Holt, your guest room is this way,” said Jiro, who was carrying their trunk upstairs. They followed him.

Block had set down Pike and Meklavar’s gear. “The girls are sharing a room, and so are Jiro and Thunder. There’s room for Pike there as well, assuming Mek is willing to share a room with her brother.”

Matthias and Thunder returned from the stable just then, and listened in on the conversation.

“Actually, could you ask my brother to stay with Jiro and Thunder?” Meklavar said, her cheeks pink, and not just from the cold.

“But that would leave only one room left for you. Where would Pike be sleeping?” Block asked.

Pike exchanged glances with Meklavar, and grinned a bit sheepishly. “Block, remember that cabin near the edge of the forest that you told us about?”

Block’s eyebrows lifted. “Nice place. Wait, did you two spend the night there?”

“Three nights, actually,” Pike said with a sly grin. “And there’s only one bed.” He waggled his eyebrows. Val gasped, scandalized, but Romella squealed with delight.

Thunder made a face of disgust. “Ugh, please tell me you didn’t invite Pike to share the bed with you.” Matt cackled at this remark.

Block’s jaw dropped. “Ohmygoodness! Are you two—? Have you been—? Mek, do your parents know?”

Meklavar laughed. “Yes, we are together. No, we haven’t been having sex. And yes, my parents know that we have started the rituals. Pike is my Intended.”

“We have received their blessings just this morning,” Pike said proudly, his arm around Meklavar.

Block and the girls cheered and shouted words of a congratulatory nature at the young couple. Thunder clutched his belly and pretended to retch. Matthias continued to laugh.

“You should have seen the looks on their faces this morning when Mom and Dad caught them in bed together at The Green Lion Inn. Pike had his shirt off and the top fasteners of my sister’s sleeping tunic were undone,” Matt said with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Pike’s face went scarlet. “It was all very innocent! Nothing inappropriate happened!”

“It’s true. Pike has been a perfect gentleman,” Mek said, coming to his defense. “Anyway, we are not consummating until after the wedding ceremony.”

“Yeah, but she gave him the ritual bath last night. All the servants at The Green Lion were gossiping about it this morning, like it was something from one of those bawdy bodice-ripper tavern songs. Apparently they think my sister’s boyfriend is some kind of feline sex god.”

“Me-Ow!” teased Romella.

Block roared with laughter. “A feline sex god?” He wiped away a tear. “Stop, Matt, you’re killing me!” Pike glared at his friend. “Sorry, man,” Block said, wiping away another tear of mirth.

“Meklavar, it isn’t too late to get him neutered,” said Thunder. “Do you really want to have kittens with this guy?” Matt howled with laughter at that comment.

“Mind your own business, Blunder.”

“I was just teasing, Puke.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough you two. I really need to get back to work on the feast, so try not to kill each other while I’m away. Lunch is almost ready. Make yourselves at home,” said Block as he headed towards the kitchen.

“Allright, truce,” said Thunder. “It’s the holiday season, after all. So in all seriousness, congratulations to you two.”

The black-haired half-elf extended his right hand. Pike shook it. “Thanks.”

“I’m only being nice for Meklavar’s sake.”

“I know.”

Thunder smiled at them, and picked up Meklavar’s traveling pack. “Come on, you two lovebirds. I’ll show you to your nest.” They gathered the rest of their belongings and followed him upstairs.

After the travelers unpacked and settled into their rooms, then placed all of their brightly wrapped packages under the holiday tree, everyone met downstairs in the dining hall. Meklavar helped Val set the table, and as soon as everyone was seated, Romella, Block, and Block’s girlfriend, Shea, had appeared with platters of food from the kitchen. They sat down to a feast fit for a king: baked ham, turkey, jellied fruit sauces, stuffing, seasoned vegetables, and a selection of berry and nut pies.

“Block, this is the best Midwinter Feast I have ever tasted!”

“Here! Here! A toast to the chef!”

“All hail Block, greatest cook in the three lands!”

“Cheers!” They exclaimed as they clinked their glasses together.

After they finished their desserts, the group sat in the parlor to open the gifts that they had placed under the tree. Mek had been eager to give her parents and her brother the gifts she had been carrying in the bottom of her pack for over a month: perfume from the Southern Isles for her mother, an enchanted miniature precision timepiece for her father, and a copy of a rare treatise on arithmancy for her brother. Block was having a bit of fun with the spring of mistletoe that Pike had saved from the day that he kissed Meklavar for the first time. Block enchanted it to float around the room, following a chosen target until they received a kiss from a loved one. So far he had gotten Lord and Lady Holt to kiss once, Pike and Meklavar to kiss twice, and he had even managed to steal a kiss from Shea three times. The enchanted mistletoe followed Val around, but every time Matt came near her, she fled, which resulted in laughter around the room from everyone except Thunder, who watched Val with interest, but looked away every time she looked at him.

Block loved the new belt pouch Pike had given him, and the unbreakable crystal potion flask the Meklavar had chosen for him fit perfectly in the new belt pouch, as if they were meant to be together. He had new sorcerer’s robes from Jiro and Thunder, and a fine pair of seven league boots from Val. Shea had bought him new cookware for his excellent kitchen, and Romella had gifted him a rare book of elvish recipes.

Val was delighted with the magical summoning and healing arrow heads Pike gave her, and she gushed over the sparkly hair comb that Mek had picked out for her. She wore it in her hair for the rest of the day, and Thunder commented that it looked beautiful because it brought out the sparkle in her eyes. Val blushed at the handsome half-elf’s compliment, and blushed even more when he gave her his gift, a pendant with a pink stone in the shape of a heart framed by clear, shiny crystals. The spring of enchanted mistletoe which had been floating around the room hovered over Thunder’s head, and Val took advantage of the perfect moment to grab him and kiss him softly on the lips. Everyone else cheered, even Pike. Thunder was pink-cheeked but smiling. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Val for the rest of the afternoon. Thunder thanked Pike for the lightweight elven cloak Pike had given him, and seemed even more pleased to receive the silver knotwork brooch that Meklavar had presented him, especially when Val pinned it on him and told him he looked “quite handsome” in his new attire.

Romella had received an assortment of new hair ornaments and bracelets and tunics from her friends, and Shea had a fine new belt, purse, anklets and wristlets among her gifts. Jiro loved the food pouch that Pike and Meklavar had given him, and the excellent new belt and scabbard for his sword that had been a gift from Thunder and Val.

When nearly all of the presents had been opened, Pike cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “As you know, Meklavar has chosen me to be her Intended, and we have begun the traditional dwarven rituals of courtship. But what everyone should know is that my people have their own customs with regards to marriage. Meklavar—“ he handed her a small, carefully wrapped box and knelt before her. “Open it.”

Meklavar opened the package nervously, knowing that every pair of eyes in the room was upon her. When she opened the little box, there was a ring inside of it, with gleaming blue and green stones...

“This is the ring that I was admiring in Talarian City...” she began to cry. “Pike, you must have spent nearly all of your gold on this.”

He smiled and nodded, embarrassed.

“It’s too much... the gems...”

“Blue for my clan and green for your House,” he said simply.

“This metal, Pike, do you understand what it is? What this means?” The Holt family apparently did, for they were all wide-eyed with disbelief.

“I thought it was some type of silver,” he said, “but—“

“Mithril.” Her cheeks were damp with tears of happiness and wonder. “The most rare, sacred, and precious metal of my people. A vow sealed with mithril is unbreakabke. Pure. Eternal.”

Pike’s eyes were now overflowing with tears. “I-I didn’t know. I just saw you admiring it. I wanted to get it for you because I just knew it was meant for you. It may be magic because I felt it calling to me. This was before you chose me to be your Intended. I didn’t know how you felt, I only knew what I felt. I have loved you for a such very long time, Mek.” He paused to wipe his face on his sleeve. “I knew only that I wanted to give you this ring. That maybe, when the time was right, I would ask you—“ He choked back a sob. “My people have a tradition...” He was so emotional that he couldn’t finish.

Block, who was looking at his two best friends with shining eyes, knew the lore. “Go on, Pike. Ask her,” he said softly.

Pike swallowed, summoned up his courage, and then took the ring from its little box and held it up to Meklavar. “Mek,” his voice cracked. “Will you marry me?”

Mek sobbed harder than ever before, and then exclaimed, “Yes!” Pike slipped the ring on her finger with trembling hands, and she kissed him passionately on the lips. There was an explosion of joy in the room, a roar of cheering and clapping. When Pike and Meklavar broke apart at last, he stood and helped her to her feet, then lifted her face to his to kiss her again as the enchanted mistletoe hovered above them.

After many congratulations were made and hugs were exchanged, Pike suggested that they head out to the village square for music, dancing, and the fireworks display. “Not yet, Pike,” Meklavar said. “I haven’t had a chance to give you my gift.”

“I am sure that I’ll love whatever it is Mek, but I already have exactly what I want.” He put his arms around her.

“Oh really?” She looked up at him.

Pike smiled at Meklavar. “Yes, really.” He cupped her cheek. “All I want for Midwinter is you.” He kissed her, knowing that he had received the best Midwinter present of all.

@pikelavarforest @defendersofaurita @suemaryrakocy @rueitae @kallura-juniblade @nessajjewell @ilovepidgance @cyangarden @animejunki5

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demaury · 5 years ago

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only fools do what I do

Words: 4445 | Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Not only is he getting cheated on and betrayed by his closest friends, but he’s getting ghosted by his very own cheating boyfriend. Business trip my ass. He’s going to murder him.

OR. Lucas gets cheated on and finds comfort in the one person he never expected to. (ao3 link)

I’m so sorry, Lu. I saw them together while I was leaving the bar.

These two sentences have been replaying in his head for three days now, and he just can’t seem to get them out. Neither them, nor the picture that printed itself in his head. He’s been imagining them, wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing on that fucking balcony with no fucking care in the world, as if they were reenacting some dumb romantic movie, and every time he wants to throw up a little bit more. Problem is, he hasn’t eaten anything in hours, probably since the day before, and for the better part of the last three days he’s been shutting himself from the rest of the world, putting his phone on airplane mode, and crying himself to sleep every now and then — at least until this morning.

Now? Now he’s angry, and he’s coming for blood.

His whole world came crashing down when he met with his friends at a bar. His boyfriend Benji had left that very morning for some business trip that was supposed to keep him busy out of town for about a week, and while Lucas wasn’t a 100% rejoicing at being separated for so long, he wasn’t usually giving it too much thought because these kind of things happened every once in a while. How fucking naïve. His best friends didn’t even dare to look him in the eyes, too ashamed, too embarrassed, too aware, perhaps, that they’ve been crappy to him for keeping this information for weeks now.

“We were just hoping Benji would come around,” they pleaded.

Well, guess fucking what, Benjamin fucking Carron hasn’t. Not for a lack of trying to get in touch on Lucas’ part, though. Not only is he getting cheated on and betrayed by his closest friends, he’s getting ghosted by his very own cheating boyfriend.

Business trip my ass.

He’s going to murder him.

Not with his bare hands, of course, because as much as he’d like to, there’s so much strength in his body he can use at once, and he’s leaning towards the average/short side of population, and his fucking, fucking boyfriend happens to be on the other side.

He should have fucking known. Hot guys date hot guys. Sometimes they date cute guys. They don’t date people like him. His area is somewhat cute looking nerds and hot guys who haven’t realized yet their potential, and he should have stuck to that instead of trying so fucking hard to change things that can’t be changed. Five years, that’s how much of his life he’s dedicated to this relationship, only to find out after literally everybody else that his boyfriend, his boyfriend of five years, has been banging some asshole on the side for weeks now.

Lucas’ eyes are stinging by the time the elevator reaches the designated flat, but he chooses to believe it’s just because he’s angry, angry enough to make his vision blur and his jaw tighten. He can’t cry now, it’s too damn important. He needs closure, he needs it like he needs his next gulp of air, and he doesn’t care if it makes him seem small and petty and ridiculous even — not a flying fuck given. The elevator rings and the doors roll open. It’s fucking show time, he thinks bitterly, and he blinks hard to keep the tears at bay. With a furious gesture he grabs the trash bag and snatches it off the ground, dragging it out of the cabin carelessly. It’s all Benji’s fault. It’s his fault if he’s down to this, his fault if he’s playing that part, his fault, his fault, his fault, he thinks bitterly as he strides through the hallway until he’s facing a black door with the number 40D on it. There’s a doorbell on the frame, and it only makes his anger intensify, skyrocketing through the roof of common sense and making it shatter in a bajillion pieces.

He can’t believe he’s fucking some doorbell-kind-of-guy — in every meaning of it. Him, Benji, the guy who rolls his eyes every fucking time Lucas vetoes eating from the pizza container, and yet here, with this guy, he’s probably getting pizza delivered from a much more expensive takeout service order and drinking wine in those stupid, ridiculously tall glasses that always threaten to shatter whenever you have the fucking audacity to clink them a little too hard together. It’s fucking hysterical, really, being betrayed and seeing his happiness (or the closest fucking form he’s known so far) thrown by the window for a doorbell and fancy glasses.

Lucas tightens his grip onto the trash bag, and in an ultimate act of rebellion, ignores the doorbell and starts hitting the door with his fist — once, twice, ten times, the loud thumping echoing in the hallway until there’s a voice shouting from the depths of the apartment 40D, somewhere behind that stupid black door. “Benji, you fucking piece of shit,” he yells without stopping.

He hears the sound of the lock turning, and only then he lets his hand rest and takes a step back, planting his feet deeper in the floor, squaring his shoulders just enough to try and mend his broken confidence as the door flies open.

Fucking show time.

There’s a guy in the doorway, who, of course, isn’t Benji — that in itself doesn’t make him bat an eye, but the fact that Lucas is there at all does make an invisible hand squeeze around his heart. Judging by the wet hair and the towel around his hips, he just got out of the shower, and he could be a match in a glaring contest, in the ‘freezing cold eyes’ category. From what he read on the mailboxes and the scarce information he got from his friend, his last name is Demaury, which is convenient because he doesn’t want to fucking know what kind of name his very own boyfriend is moaning at night when he’s pretending to be working.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”, Demaury spits out furiously.

“I wanna see Benji, I know he’s in there,” Lucas yells back, and he stands a bit taller on his tiptoes to try and peer inside, in the small space left by that Demaury guy and the door. “Benji-”

The guy eyes him like he’s crazy. “He’s not here!”, he snaps. “What the fuck do you want and who the fuck are you?”

Lucas’ eyes widen, probably comically in any other given situation, and for a second he deflates a little bit under the enormity of the insult. “Who am- I’m the fucking boyfriend of the guy you’re sleeping with!”, he exclaims.

“Wha-at?” Demaury’s angry face falters for a second, and okay, maybe Lucas takes a little pride in it, but soon he’s back to glaring and coldly throwing daggers at him. Worse even, there seems to be a fucking hint of disdain as he snarls: “Nah, I don’t believe you.”

Unbelievable. Reality isn’t fucking up for grabs, he wants to yell. That guy doesn’t get to decide what’s the truth and what isn’t. “I don’t give a shit that you believe it or not!”, he bites back. “Benji and I- Benji and I we’ve been together for five fucking years, we have an apartment together!”

He wants to add more, to elaborate, but any sane person would just roll with what he just said and admits their mistake and foolishness. No one cares that he and Benji have their habits at a couple of restaurants. No one cares that they’ve been each other’s dates at weddings. No one cares that they’ve got a shared Netflix account and that they share a phone charger more often than not. They have an apartment together, that should be fucking enough to sum it all up, to Lucas at least. It should be enough of a clue that what he has — or maybe had, he doesn’t really know anymore — with Benji is true, and real, and fucking exclusive.

But instead?

Instead the guy snorts.

He fucking snorts and shakes his head as if Lucas had just come up with a particularly stupid theory on why the fucking Titanic crashed into a fucking iceberg. “See? No, I don’t believe it,” he says again, and Lucas wants to hit him so fucking bad that his hands start shaking. “I’ve been to his place, I was there literally three days ago, and there’s no trace of anyone else in there.”

Three days ago.

Three days ago, Benji was already out of town.

He was already supposed to be out of town, supplies an unhelpful voice in his head. And three days ago Lucas was home because it was fucking Saturday morning, in his fucking sweatpants, on his fucking couch. The first thing that comes to his mind is that the guy is lying. He’s lying, because in their apartment there are pictures scattered around, pictures of Benji, pictures of him, pictures of him and Benji, clothes belonging to the both of them hanging off the rack in the entrance and his shoes stacked along Benji’s in the closet next to the front door. He’s everywhere, they are everywhere.

They are everywhere in their fifth-floor apartment in the 11th, and it’s another horrible feeling that snakes its way up his throat as he starts putting the pieces together — or at least when he thinks he’s starting to get a grip on what the fuck is going on.

“What’s the address?”, he grits out.

Demaury squints his eyes a little and huffs haughtily. “I’m not giving you his address!”

“Is it in the 10th?,” Lucas asks blatantly. “Rue Tesson?”

Something in the guy’s face slips a little, just like the first time. Lucas doesn’t need him to answer because his eyes do it very well on their own: there’s a flash of discomfort and betrayal in his grey eyes, and it’s enough. He doesn’t say anything at first, and Lucas only feels mildly happy about it, for a split-second — half the time he felt satisfied the first time. He thought it’d be a lot funnier to shatter someone’s heart but as it turns out it just feels terrible.

It’s his turn to huff and to shake his head, and to make it sound like he’s the one holding the cards. It should feel good and freeing to be right, but it really doesn’t. It just feels like he’s watching himself a minute ago. “It’s his old apartment,” Lucas says, quiet, almost tiredly. “He was supposed to rent it when we moved in together. Well, at least he told me he did.”

Maybe the people who lived there just moved recently, and he took it as an opportunity to bring along his fucking lover, Lucas thinks. That’s what he wants to believe, at least, and he hopes wishful-thinking takes him somewhere less painful than where he’s standing right now, on the fucking brink of bursting into a hysterical laughter that would definitely put him up and ready for a psychiatric ward. It’s easier to believe that Benji only lied for a few months than for the entirety of their relationship. Or so he thinks. He doesn’t know very well anymore, and the trash bag in his hand seems ridiculously out of place now.

The guy’s eyes fall onto it as soon as Lucas’ fingers tighten a little bit more around it, making it rustle faintly, and he’s surprised to find no trace of pain or despair in the guy’s face anymore. That flash of pain? Gone and long forgotten, judging by the intensity of his glare. That’s some eyes he’s got there, Lucas mutters inwardly. He doesn’t have much trouble finding ten reasons why Benji would cheat with a guy like that — he’s so ridiculously handsome that every new detail he notices about him cuts yet another deeper wound in his already shattered self-esteem. His eyes are clear too, but much greyer than Lucas’. He’s got brown hair too, but it’s already drying off by itself and he can already tell it’s gonna look good. He’s taller. More athletic looking judging by what he can see.

Better. Better, better, better.

He feels like a fool all of a sudden. He came to throw a fit but he’s just embarrassing himself at this point. The guy’s right, he misread the situation. Benji did cheat. Benji does cheat. But he’s not going to stick around long anyway when there’s someone else like that guy waiting for him to get home at night. At best he stayed just long enough to land back onto his feet. He doesn’t want to think about the possibility that maybe, just maybe Benji stays because he pities him.

Fuck his eyes are stinging again. No, no, no, he thinks helplessly as he looks down, blinking hard to prevent the tears from falling.

His heart jerks in his chest when there’s a hand snatching the trash bag from his loosening grip. “It’s his stuff, right?”, Demaury says, demanding and cold, and Lucas doesn’t know if it’s sheer hope or not but it seems like he can hear a hint of bitterness and resentment too.

Technically it’s not his stuff, because there’s so much of it back at the flat that it would never fit in a single trash bag, but Lucas nods anyway. It’s just a couple of things he had grabbed to make his point crossed. He’d planned it all. He’d planned it all, he’d planned to throw it all one by one in Benji’s face, photo frames, a bunch of underwear and jeans waiting for laundry and a sweatshirt Lucas claimed as his own early in their relationship, but that he can’t suffer the view of anymore. He’d planned to yell at his face, to punch him even, if he got the chance, but now he’s left congregating with his boyfriend’s almost naked lover in the middle of a foreign building.

How much more of a fucking failure can he be?

Demaury peers at the content of the bag, then without saying anything he just spins around, and for half a second Lucas expects the door to fly shut right in his face — but it doesn’t. Instead, he’s striding further inside the apartment, and Lucas’ eyes trail absently behind him as he makes his way through his living-room. Demaury chucks the window wide open, and Lucas’ eyebrows shoot up when he reaches for some paper sheets hanging on the wall, tearing them apart a little bit as he doesn’t pause to take the pins down to shove them all in the trash bag. Next thing Lucas knows the bag is flying out the window. Demaury motions to close it, then he pauses and grabs something on the coffee table that he sends out as well. There’s a faint crashing sound when it meets the pavement down the street, and Lucas thinks he might have just witnessed the brutal murder of Benji’s beloved iPad, but he’s not sure.

The window slams shut and Demaury stares at him, hands to his hips, from the entrance of the living-room. “Want something to drink?”, he asks after an agonizing minute of silence where Lucas actually thought he might just be about to receive the same treatment as Benji’s stuff.

“You just- threw everything out,” he says flatly — he’s a bit stunned by the turn of events, to be honest.

“And I’ll be an A+ ecologist for a month to make up for it, yeah,” Demaury sighs. “You want a drink or not? I could use one.”

Lucas considers his options. He’s got nowhere to be, theoretically. “I guess I could use one too,” he admits, a little bit warily. He shoves his hands in his pockets as he dares to step in.

Shit like this only happens to him.

“Good. Make yourself comfortable while I’m dressing,” Demaury says dryly. He motions to leave the living-room then turns back. “By the way,” he adds again, almost like an afterthought, “if you find anything belonging to him, feel free to throw it out.”

Lucas gives himself a second to think about it, his eyes still following him as he’s retreating towards another room to dress up. “Can I smash it instead?”, he asks, because there’s so much they can throw out the window before getting in trouble. The last thing he wants is to get arrested or fined on top of things.

Demaury doesn’t turn back. “Whatever you want,” he says, gesturing dismissively, and Lucas stares incredulously around him after he disappears out of sight, leaving him alone.

He fidgets for a hot minute before sitting down onto the black couch, uneasy, unsure, out of place. He doesn’t want to think about the things this couch might have seen, and he doesn’t want to think about the evenings Benji supposedly stayed at work and ended up spending there instead, and when Demaury walks out, dressed in black skinny jeans and a black hoodie and with a bottle of Tequila in his hand, he suddenly feels better.

Alcohol. That he can do.

“Benji was really it for you?”

Lucas’ eyes trail up from the bottle of Tequila sitting empty between them. Eliott (his name’s Eliott), is staring at the ceiling, lying flat on his back, with an unreadable expression on his face. Lucas isn’t sure whether or not he looks sad, or, like, regretful. He just looks… thoughtful. Apparently alcohol gets him thinking, Lucas notes bluntly.

Or maybe sex does.

Sleeping with the lover of his boyfriend isn’t his finest moment in life so far. It really isn’t. But he doesn’t feel guilty, and judging by Eliott’s entirely too laid-back demeanor, he doesn’t feel a hint of regret either — which is always nice when you sleep with someone new, Lucas guesses. He looks up too, trying to pinpoint what exactly Eliott is seeing, but the ceiling is completely white and Lucas’ having a little bit of troubles fixating his eyes on a particular point, let alone an invisible one. The sun is up and bright, pouring in the bedroom through the high window, and it makes him blink and squint a little.

“Maybe,” he says, and he reaches up to rub his eye with the heel of his hand. “I guess so. I mean, we have- we had an apartment together.” He forces the past tense because he doesn’t think there’s anything left to save with Benji, if the last few hours are any indication. They still have an apartment together technically — they are still renting the walls. But the intimacy of living with someone else? Gone. Shattered. Buried. He’s not sure how he feels about it just yet, and he tries to push the thought away for another time.

“Doesn’t mean you would have spent your life with him,” Eliott says, still looking at the ceiling.

Lucas shrugs, more to himself, and he eventually sighs before rolling over onto his side. He shifts his knees a little bit up, and he can feel the warmth of Eliott’s leg nearby. “Dunno. I was happy with him.”

Eliott hums in response and Lucas peers at him discreetly, averting his eyes every now and then to avoid being caught staring. He doesn’t know if it’s the Tequila talking but each passing second makes it more difficult to look away — to pull away. “Was he?”, he asks after a while. “For you?”

To his surprise, Eliott snorts and shakes his head. “I’ve known him for four months. A bit early to form an opinion,” he says, and Lucas makes a noncommittal sound in agreement. Eliott heaves a sigh and turns his head towards him. “I just got out of a long relationship when we met, I guess I didn’t look too much into it. Everything was new and refreshing, you know how it is,” he concludes with an evasive gesture of his hand.

No I don’t know, he wants to say. He doesn’t know because before Benji his longest relationship had lasted for a year and all the others were just a matter of months, sometimes even weeks. He’s just not good at relationships, no matter what it is that guys are looking for, they never seem to find it in Lucas — Benji was the only one who made him feel otherwise, who made him feel like he had finally understood the basic rules. He doesn’t say it out loud, because it’s pathetic enough to think about it, he doesn’t want to word it out for some hot stranger he had sex with once to snicker at him and tell him he overthinks it. After all he knows nothing about Eliott, aside from the fact that he’s outrageously handsome and ridiculously good at whatever he does once clothes are off.

“So, my long-time boyfriend was just your rebound guy,” he says darkly.

“Four months is a bit long for a rebound guy though but, yeah, I guess that’s close enough.”

The worst part is that he doesn’t find it in himself to hate Eliott, even though he’s pretty sure he’d feel better hating a stranger than to hate his boyfriend of five years. He eyes the empty bottle of Tequila with a sad look. He’s not nearly drunk enough to think about what’s going to follow. When Benji will come back in town and they will have to talk. Fuck the grand gesture this time. He’s just going to yell at him and probably cry, and it’s going to be ugly and pathetic, but he doesn’t give a fuck — he’s not sure if he wants Benji back at this point, if he wants to make up with him. If given the chance he doesn’t even know if he would go back to the way things were before Benji decided to bang Eliott. He just doesn’t know anything anymore.

“You’re better than he is.” Lucas glances at him absently, interrupting his train of depressing thoughts to focus on Eliott. “In bed.”

A few years back he’d have blushed and awkwardly laughed it off, but on the other hand, a few years back he would probably not have received a compliment on his prowess in bed. As it is, it just makes him snort and shake his head. “Right. Thanks,” then he mutters: “I can cross it from the list of things that might have driven him in your bed then.”

He’s not aiming to be an asshole or to hurt Eliott’s feelings, and spectacularly enough it goes as planned — Eliott even spares him a huff that resembles a laugh. “Ever thought that it might be on him? And not on you?”

“That’s not the first thing that comes to my mind, no.”

“Well, you should.”

“Right.” They stay quiet for a moment, and Lucas focuses on the label on the empty bottle that he circles absent-mindedly with his fingers. “I should go. Believe it or not but- that’s not what I came here for.” He already can’t believe something like that would happen to him in the first place, it’s not like he could possibly plan it beforehand.

“Unbelievable, really,” Eliott hums sarcastically.

Lucas rewards him with a kick in the ribs and a grumbled ‘shut up’, and after another minute, he braces enough courage to sit up. He feels like he’s overstayed anyway, at this point he really wants to get five minutes to register what the hell happened today. He grabs his discarded underwear and slides them on, then starts putting his clothes back on one item after the other. For some reason, the sound his fly makes when he zips it up makes the whole ordeal seem almost obscene, where being naked in bed with a near-stranger didn’t a second ago.

“You’re gonna kick him out I hope.”

Lucas glances behind his shoulder, halfway through putting his shoes on. “Hopefully.” He ponders his next question. “So that means you’re going to kick him out too?”

“There are other guys in Paris,” he says after a moment. “I like him a lot less since this morning, for some reason.”

Lucas huffs and stands up from the side of the bed to grab his hoodie. “I guess it’s a big enough town for us to never find ourselves in a situation like this again,” he eventually says after putting it back on. It feels somewhat awkward that Eliott hasn’t moved at all, still looking perfect between those anthracite sheets that have seen far too much of Lucas already.

“I guess so, yeah,” he nods.

Lucas presses his lips together, hesitating, and with an awkward wave of the hand, he pulls himself further away from the bed, stepping outside the bedroom. He still needs to pick up his phone, but he thinks he might have left it on the coffee table before they jumped each other on the couch after downing three quarters of the Tequila bottle in fifteen minutes.

“Lucas?”, Eliott’s voice calls out as he’s nearly in the living-room already. Lucas backtracks diligently and glances in the bedroom to find Eliott sitting on his bed. “There’s one thing we can’t take from Benji though. He’s got great taste.”

It should be hurting but somehow it’s not. He’s not over it. Not anywhere near. He still wants to smash things, he still wants to yell and scream and shout until Benji realizes he’s been an asshole, and he still holds a grudge on his friends for hiding the truth. He still doesn’t know how he’s going to deal with the apartment thing, where he’s going to live from now on once they’d have settled it all, and how he’s going to rebuild everything Benji managed to turn to shreds because he just can’t keep it in his pants.

But at least- at least he doesn’t hate Eliott. And as insane as it may sound, he doesn’t regret today. He doesn’t regret meeting him. And the sex- Well, no, he can’t bring himself to regret it either.

Lucas gives him half a smile, which turns into a full-on smile when Eliott grins back at him. “He really does,” he says, and he’s almost contrite as he makes his way to the front door after getting his phone back, because it’s not like they’re supposed to meet again and he’s not sure why this particular thought has even a place among all the others.

They do meet again.

A couple months down the road. They meet when Lucas is no longer the deceived boyfriend and Eliott is no longer the unintended other man.

And they meet again.

And again.

And many more times after that.

#eluficrecs #skam france #elu fic #elu #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #mine #*#i's such a mess(TM)#but i wrote it in one go #my fics

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carry-the-sky · 5 years ago

Text

so delicate the bones

Five months since the hospital. Five months of hearing about him on the news, reading about his exploits in the paper, and unlike the last time he came back from the dead, none of it is speculation now. Frank Castle, the Punisher—

She sees that goddamn skull wherever she looks.

kastlesmutweek 2019 || tantalizing tuesday // ‘i need a place to stay’ + bed-sharing (or couch-sharing, in this case)

+ the following prompts from @spaceismymuse: the cold, sharp smell of the first frost / the smell of blood / the feeling of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade

also on ao3!

This is the stupidest thing she’s ever done.

The thought buzzes in her skull, or maybe it’s just the sedan shuddering as she hits another rut in the road. Karen tightens her grip on the steering wheel. In five-point-two miles, your destination will be on the right, her GPS had assured her almost half an hour ago.

She flicks her eyes towards it now, tracking the snaking blue route line and the coordinates it leads to. Something constricts beneath her ribs.

One thing at a time, Karen. Current priority is to not die on this back-country forest service road.

Said road — a very relative term for the narrow, winding stretch of gravel she’s currently white-knuckling her way up — switchbacks sharply, and Karen pumps the brakes. “Shit,” she hisses, and the back tires protest, spinning against dirt, before catching again.

Stupid. This whole thing is so, so stupid.

The trees are starting to thin, and between them Karen catches glances of frost-swept hills that arc against a clear, cold sky. She’s reminded sharply of home, how quiet everything was beneath that first blanket of fresh-fallen snow. Maybe that’s why Frank’s here.

Frank.

She sees that goddamn skull wherever she looks.

“In point-seven miles, your destination will be on the right,” the GPS chirps. Her stomach churns, a mixture of nerves from the drive and uncertainty about what’s waiting for her at the end of that thin blue line. Her eyes ricochet between it and the road, heart kicking in her chest as the number of miles slowly drops— point-two miles, point-one—

There. Nestled a short distance back in the trees is a small cabin. It looks cozy enough, with its snow-dusted roof and smoke curling up from the chimney, and that’s what gives her pause, her foot sliding over the brake pedal and slowing the car to a stop. It’s too cozy. Very much the opposite of Frank.

Karen’s considering the possibility of turning around, driving out back the way she came and attempting to forget this whole thing, when the cabin’s front door swings open.

It’s him. She’d recognize that stance, those sloping shoulders, anywhere. Even from this distance, she can see that he’s let his hair and beard grow out.

He hesitates a moment, then lifts an arm in greeting.

Karen’s not sure if she wants to laugh or cry.

The cabin is— nice. Really nice. When Frank had called her a couple days ago, asking to meet and giving her these coordinates, she’d pictured him holing up in a shack somewhere. She’d pictured guns and a dingy mattress, not a fully-furnished living room and pictures on the walls.

“Lieberman?” she asks, inspecting the closest photo. David and his family, she’s assuming. All four of them are laughing, looking at each other and not at the camera.

“Yeah,” Frank says. He’s watching her in that way he does, like he can see every thought rattling around in her head. “His place. Mostly uses it in the summer, with the kids. He, uh, didn’t approve of my last apartment. Called it a ‘murder lair’.”

Karen laughs. “Sounds like a smart guy.”

“Too smart,” Frank snorts, but he’s grinning. Karen thinks abruptly of the photo of him at the carousel, arm slung around Maria and Frank, Jr., Lisa’s bright smile, all teeth.

It’s a little strange, seeing him smile now. The thought makes her sad.

“You want a beer?” he asks.

“Please,” she says, settling herself on the couch in the living room.

She lets her gaze follow him as he moves around the kitchen with the fluidity of someone who’s comfortable with this routine. He seems so at ease, so calm. Something just sideways of anger simmers under her skin— hadn’t she offered him this? A normal life, a way out, together? Somewhere, somewhen, it could’ve happened. There was only one problem—

I don’t want that.

“You find the place okay?” Frank asks, returning with the beers.

“Okay enough,” she says. “I used to drive roads like these all the time back home. Guess the city’s made me soft.”

"Where’s home?”

"Middle of nowhere, Vermont.”

She doesn’t elaborate, her unspoken question filling the silence that follows. Why am I here, Frank?

He takes the hint.

“I owe you an apology,” he says. “For the hospital. I shut you out, after you stuck your neck out for me. I’m sorry, Karen.”

She just looks at him for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him fidgeting, his knee bouncing. “I can handle rejection, Frank,” she says. “We’re not in high school. What disappointed me was the reason why.” She hears how tight her voice sounds, and takes a breath before continuing. “You know, you know how I feel about— what you do. You deserve more, Frank. We both do.”

It feels good, saying all of this, feels good knowing hers aren’t the only heavy shoulders in the room. Frank’s been thinking about this. He’s been thinking about her.

“I thought—” his eyes dart away, then back. “I thought the war was what I wanted. Thought I needed it, yeah? I needed it, wasn’t myself without it. There’s a part of me still buried in that desert, Karen. I need you to understand that. That’s the part I gotta live without. Thing is— the thing is, I didn’t think I could ever be Frank Castle again. He died that day in Central Park, right, every last bit of him, dead, gone. I had to be someone else. I had to be. Putting on that vest— it was a choice, but it was more than that. It was a necessity. That vest kept me alive, Karen. I know how batshit that sounds, I know it, but—” his eyes bore straight into hers, as if willing her to understand what he’s saying. “That’s why I shut you out. You make it so goddamn easy to forget, Karen. When I’m— when I’m with you, it’s hard to remember that Frank Castle’s dead.”

He’s watching her so intently she feels like she might split in half beneath the weight of his gaze. The beer is long-forgotten in her hand; she feels the condensation, now, beads of it slicking her palms.

“You’re not—” she swallows, hard. “You’re still—”

“Still the Punisher, yeah.”

“So where does that leave us, Frank?”

“I don’t know,” he says, his face darkening. “I don’t know, Karen.”

For a horrible, swollen moment, she wants to yell at him. She wants to scream at the top of her lungs, scream until her throat burns. They’re right back where they’ve always been— the skull in one hand, Frank Castle in the other, and yeah, maybe asking him to choose between the two is unfair, but so is this—

Karen blows out a breath and the fury follows, gone as quickly as it hit.

“Well,” she sighs, waving her beer bottle, “looks like we’re we’re gonna need something stronger than this to figure it out.”

The rest of the night is a honey-colored blur. Frank discovers a bottle of Jack stashed in the cabinet above the sink, and they pass it back and forth as the sun dips low in the sky. Karen starts to feel it halfway through her third glass, warm and tilty like the world’s slightly off its axis. City-living has made her soft — she’s a fucking lightweight, now — but if Frank notices, he doesn’t say anything.

They skirt the nebulous, looming elephant in the room, and instead take turns filling in the blanks from the past year. Matt, Billy Russo, a copycat Daredevil, a leaked NSA disc, the attack on the Bulletin — Frank’s knuckles go white, gripping his glass.

“Don’t,” Karen warns, just as he’s opening his mouth to say something. “You’ve apologized to me once already, Frank, and I appreciate it, but you don’t need to again.”

Frank laughs harshly. “That’s bullshit, Karen. I should’ve been here, I should’ve been here for you.”

She hesitates a moment, neither agreeing or arguing. “You mean a lot to me, Frank,” she says. “But I don’t rely on you. I can’t. Every time you come back into my life, I wonder if it’s the last time.”

Frank tilts a glance up at her, his face a tangle of emotion. Suddenly self-conscious, Karen tears her eyes away and turns to look out the window. It’s now completely dark outside; even if she wasn’t on the other side of tipsy, there’s no way in hell she’d attempt to drive down that road in the middle of the night.

Frank must read something in her expression, because he crosses the room and starts digging something out of the hall closet. When he returns, Karen sees a pile of blankets in his arms.

“You sure?” she asks, hesitant. It’s not like either of them planned this, but it still feels like they’re stepping over a line.

“C’mon, Karen.” Frank jerks his chin towards the couch. “I’ll sleep out here. Bed’s too soft for me, anyways.”

“How chivalrous of you,” Karen says, or tries to, before her words dissolve into a cavernous yawn. She hadn’t realized how exhausted she was until now.

“Bedroom’s just through there,” Frank says, gesturing down the hall.

“Thanks.” Her body’s moving before she can talk herself out of it, rocking up from the couch to lean in and kiss him softly on the cheek. “Goodnight, Frank.”

“Night,” he rasps, low in his throat. He’s so close she can taste the Jack when he exhales, can see the flecks of green in his eyes. Her pulse is thunder in her ears. She should move away, she should move away now—

“Karen,” he breathes, and a warmth entirely unrelated to her buzz unfurls in the pit of her stomach. She wants to hear him say her name again. She wants to kiss him, and so she does, pressing her lips firmly to his.

This, this right here, is the stupidest thing she’s ever done, but she can’t bring herself to care, not when he’s kissing her back. His mouth is softer than she expects, but she doesn’t want soft. Emboldened, she snags his lower lip between her teeth and nips.

He hisses through his teeth, pulls away, and her stomach plummets. She fucked it up, how did she fuck it up already—

But then she looks up. He’s staring at her in a way he never has before, with a wild hunger that sends a thrill skittering down her spine. He’s looking at her like he wants to pull her apart, make her beg for it.

“You sure about this?” he says, rough like he’s having trouble breathing. “You’re in charge here, Karen—”

She responds by kissing him again. He tastes like Jack, smoky-sweet, and she slides her tongue past his teeth. He groans low in his throat; the slow-moving heat in her belly erupts, and she digs her nails into his shoulder. The other hand darts to his belt.

Frank follows her lead. His fingers move deftly, making quick work of the belt and his pants, and then his hands are at her waist, tugging softly at her sweater. She wrenches it over her head, and his hands slide over her bare skin, splayed just beneath her ribs. She can feel his hesitance, the uncertainty in his touch. Something flickers in the back of her mind, a small warning voice. They’ve crossed a lot of lines together, but not this. Never this. She’s not sure how either of them will come out the other side unscathed.

He’s watching her carefully, pupils blasted wide and his lips slightly parted. There’s a bruise blossoming across his temple, dark circles smudged under his eyes. Familiar landmarks.

Karen reaches up and draws her fingers softly against his cheek. His eyes shutter closed at her touch, his breath swooping out in a shaky burst, and her heart clenches. She meant what she’d said— she can’t, and won’t, expect anything from him after this, but right now—

Frank opens his eyes. Okay? they seem to ask.

She nods softly. Okay.

They come together again, slowly this time. His hands cradle her waist and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down onto the couch with her. His mouth is everywhere, taking his time, lips drifting to the hollow of her cheek, then down, tracing her jawline. She shudders, tipping her head back, and the movement shifts her hips forward, against his thigh.

He growls. In one swift movement, he’s pinning her to the couch, the full-length of him pressing against her. It’s good, it’s better than good, but not enough. She wants more.

“Off,” she commands, grabbing at his shirt. He wrestles it off and her fingers scrabble at her bra and jeans, tossing both unceremoniously to the floor. Frank settles over her, bearing weight through both his elbows as he stares down at her with a mixture of hunger and awe. One of his hands slips behind her head, his huge palm cupping her skull. The other scours a line of fire down her sternum — she arches as his thumb skims the curve of her breast — and slips under her panties.

God, she wants this. She wraps one leg around Frank’s waist, urging him down, and he complies, pushing himself off the couch and onto the floor as he slowly peels her underwear off. The palm of his hand is hot and firm against her thigh as he slings her leg over his shoulder and lowers his head.

It’s been a while since someone’s touched her like this — more than a while. She spasms as Frank’s teeth graze her inner thigh, and he freezes. He’s got a hand on her leg, still, and his thumb presses softly to the jut of her ankle. A signal-flare, something to say, I’m here.

Karen glides a hand through his hair, tugs gently. I know. I’m okay.

And then his mouth his moving again, his tongue slow and slick. Her heart’s beating so fast she thinks it might burst out of her chest. She screws her eyes shut and tries to breathe. The world narrows, everything going concave— nothing is real beyond Frank and his mouth and the tension winding up in her gut. His tongue is moving faster now, laving up her slick-hot center. It’s too much—

Her orgasm hits like a punch. Karen feels all the breath leave her lungs in a guttural cry, her chest heaving. Frank’s breathing hard too; she pulls at him feebly, and he drags himself up to rest his head against her belly. They stay like this for several moments, her fingers buried in his hair and his breath tickling the plane of her stomach.

He moves first, propping up on his elbows to look at her. “You okay?” he asks, voice hoarse.

Karen grins and stretches languorously. “Fuck, yeah, I’m okay.” She slips a hand down and laughs softly when her fingers graze against the firm bulge of his erection through his boxers. “Looks like you’re doing okay, too.”

Frank dips his head and kisses her, slow and deep. “You gonna do somethin’ about that?”

Karen laughs against his mouth, working him free of the boxers. Her hand glides around his dick, stroking the length of it. “On your back, Frank,” she whispers, pushing him down and straddling his waist.

Frank gazes up at her. She can feel him trembling beneath her hands. The Punisher, at her mercy.

“As you wish, ma’am,” Frank says. Karen laughs harder, and gets to work.

Some time later, boneless and sweaty and feeling more at peace than she has in a long time, Karen lifts her head to see that Frank’s eyes are shut, his breathing slow and rhythmic. She’s sprawled on top of him on the couch, their bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs. Hardly the most comfortable position to sleep in, but here he is, fast asleep. Karen watches him for a moment, committing the way his face looks in this moment to memory. She can hear his heartbeat, and she closes her eyes, anchoring herself to the sound. She’s here, with Frank, and then she’s floating, falling away.

She’s in her old apartment. It’s exactly how she remembers— white walls, white carpet. A blank slate. It’s exactly the same, except—

There’s a man face-down on the floor, and a smell, sharp and metallic, so strong she’s surprised she didn’t notice it sooner. Her stomach clenches. Something’s wrong, this isn’t— this isn’t her apartment, after all, it can’t be. She turns on her heel and starts towards the front door—

There’s nothing there, nothing but a blank stretch of wall. Heart thudding painfully, she spins in every direction, looking— but the windows are gone, too. Turning slowly, her gaze settles on the man on her floor. There’s something, something like a rusty stain on the carpet, framing his head like a halo. How did she not see it before?

It’s very important, suddenly, that she see his face. She takes a few cautious steps towards him, nudges his torso with her foot, and when he doesn’t stir she reaches down to tug at his shoulder.

The body flops supine.

No, this isn’t— this isn’t what happened—

Kevin’s empty eyes are staring up at her.

Karen bolts up, then instantly wishes she hadn’t. Her head pulses, bright spots fuzzing in and out behind her eyes. She blinks once, again, and the living room slowly materializes, dark but splintered with milky sunlight. She’s still on the couch. There’s a blanket, twisted between her legs. Frank—

He’s there, the shape of him slumped against the side of the couch. He must’ve moved in the night, but he didn’t leave.

There’s a lump forming in her throat, pressure stinging behind her eyes. It’s too much, this is too much. She needs some air, she needs to be somewhere else.

Moving as quietly as she can, Karen extricates herself from her blankets and searches in the half-darkness for her clothes. She feels around in vain for a few moments for her sweater, then gives up and pulls her undershirt on over her head. Shivering, Karen snags one of the blankets from the couch, draws it around her shoulders, and slips out the front door.

The smell hits her at once, sharp and crisp in the winter air. There’s a thin layer of frost on the ground, dusting the tips of the trees. It makes everything look softer.

Karen curls onto the chair that’s propped on the porch, flinching as her bare legs graze the cold wood. She wraps the blanket more securely around her. The frosty winter landscape before her, while, beautiful, only serves to remind her once more of Vermont, which reminds her of her brother.

She squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. It’s been months since her last nightmare, and of course, of course, the night after she’s been with Frank—

Karen doesn’t believe in things like fate, but it does feel like a cruel coincidence, like the universe is reminding her why she can’t have the things she wants. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to be happy.

“Karen?”

Frank emerges from the cabin, fully-dressed but barefoot. He has a wild, slightly-panicked look in his eyes. Karen feels a stab of guilt. Did he think she would leave without saying goodbye?

“Hey,” she says simply.

“Are you—” he shifts his weight between his feet, rubbing his arms. “Are you okay? It’s fuckin’ freezing out here—”

“I had a bad dream. Just needed to get some air.”

He nods, but doesn’t press her. She feels a swell of gratitude. Of all people, Frank understands.

They’re both quiet for a beat. Frank’s still shuffling between his feet, so Karen looks at him and says, “You should go back inside before you get frostbite. I’m okay, I promise.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but seems to decide it’s better if he doesn’t. “Okay,” he says, holding her eyes for a second before turning and going back inside.

She’s not sure how long she stays outside. Her thoughts blur, hazy like the thin scattering of clouds in the sky. Finally, aware that she’s starting to lose feeling in her lower extremities, she stands and pulls the cabin door open.

Frank is sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, but he snaps his eyes up at the sound of her coming back inside. Karen moves towards him and settles herself beside him on the couch.

“Hey,” she says again.

“Hey,” he echoes.

She drops her eyes to her hands. The silence that stretches between them isn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but it’s heavy, full of all the things they should and need to say in the aftermath of the previous night.

“So,” she begins, and feels him tense beside her. “Last night.”

When she glances sideways at him, she sees that he’s squeezing his hands together, his knee jittering up and down. She leans over and folds a hand over his, squeezing gently. “Last night was amazing, Frank.”

His leg stills. “It was, yeah,” he agrees, the corners of his mouth turning up. His eyes search her face, then drift lower, to where the blanket that’s still around her shoulders has slid off her shoulder. He reaches up and drags his thumb across her bare skin. “Will you stay?” he asks, softly.

“You want me to?”

Frank snorts. His thumb is still moving in lazy circles over her shoulder. “Think you know the answer to that.”

“I do, but I want to hear you say it, Frank.”

He dips his head, presses his lips to her bare shoulder. “I want you to stay, Karen.”

She tucks a finger under his chin, lifting it so she can kiss him gently. “I’ll stay, then.”

There’s more to say, but for now, this is enough.

#kastle #kastlesmutweek #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #my fic #my edit #only a few days late ack

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winchest09 · 6 years ago

Text

Shatter Me - Chapter Nine

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5962

Summary: The Winchesters were your world. After joining their hunter ranks, you quickly became attached to the brothers. After a successful hunt, you insist on going out celebrating with the boys – only for a loose end to catch up with you. You’re trapped in a world without hunger, thirst and the Winchesters. With the brothers beside themselves, they make preparations to say goodbye until Dean starts to connect to you through his dreams. Little do they know that you’re much closer than they think…

Chapter warnings: 18+, Angst. All the angst. Flangst? Swearing. Self hatred. Fluff.

A/N: Here be Chapter 9! It’s a long one and it’s an eventful one. So i do hope you enjoy it! Thank you for reading my darlings <3

If you do read, please let me know your thoughts! Comments are amazing, reblogs are delightful! Let me know your reactions, through words or gifs! It makes it all worthwhile :)

Love all of you guys <3

Also any mistakes are my own, please do not repost my work anywhere however reblogs are fine and welcome :)

Shatter Me Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

You wrapped your arms tighter around your body as you strode through the snow, marching past Sam to reach Castiel. Sam smiled at you slightly with sincerity, his hands in his pockets but you couldn’t return it, your blood was boiling with anger and the last thing you needed was Sam trying to play mediator between you and Dean. So you continued on past him, heading to show Cas the barrier and to get as far away from the green eyed Winchester as possible.

As you got to Castiel’s side, you huffed and kicked some snow off your tip of your boot. You saw how Castiel frowned slightly, his head dipping to study your face “Everything…ok?” He questioned, the words rolling off his tongue.

“Apart from being stuck in an unknown place with an unknown curse cracking my skin? Yeah perfect” You grunted, kicking at the snow on the floor. You noticed how Castiel turned awkwardly, not knowing how to responded and you immediately felt a wave of guilt wash over you “Sorry Cas, I’m just stressed. Didn’t mean to take it out on you” You explained softly, your hand going to his arm.

“It’s ok Y/N. I’m sure you’re finding this situation difficult” Castiel replied, a slight smile on his lips.

“Yeah” You sighed, briefly looking behind you to see Dean and Sam in a heated conversation “You have no idea”

Dean watched as you stormed ahead, his eyes landing on those of his brothers who held a concerned look and he knew that he had probably seen the exchange between you and him. He rolled his eyes as he continued forward towards his brother, knowing exactly what was to come.

As Dean caught up to his brother, Sam matched Dean’s strides, his hands motioning towards you in his pockets “What was that about?” He questioned

“What?” Dean snapped, not bothering to look at Sam.

Sam sighed “Dean, come on. I’m not deaf or blind. She just nearly took your head off”

“She’s just frustrated being in here Sammy and she’s taking it out on me” The eldest Winchester swallowed hard, hoping his excuse would be believable. Looking up at Sam though, he saw how his little brothers eyebrows were raised, Dean had to elaborate and fast “Oh come on, wouldn’t you be? Locked off from everything and everyone you know?”

“I…guess” Sam said slowly, bringing his raised eyebrows down to knit together.

Clearing his throat, Dean nodded thankful that Sam believed him “Yeah, exactly so let’s just focus on the task at hand” He stated, a gruffness to his tone as he pushed forward to join you and Castiel at the barrier.

You heard the snow crunch behind you signalling that the brothers had caught up you. You just motioned further behind the treeline and made your way forward, towards the force field barrier that was keeping you prisoner. You stopped walking when you arrived at your destination, allowing the boys to walk around you for them to inspect it themselves.

Feeling the blanket hug your shoulders, you tightened your hold on the material as you watched how each of the boys inspected the force field. You knew exactly what they were doing, you’d already done the exact same. There were looking for weak points, breaks, anything that could give away what it was exactly. You let your eyes wander over to Dean every now and again, watching how he held himself. His shoulders were tight, his face stoic, he was focusing on the task at hand and nothing else. He hadn’t glanced over at you once and you shook your head at the thought. You didn’t want to hold a grudge, you didn’t want to be angry with this man as he was your best friend. You just couldn’t get your head around why he would play with your feelings.

Before you could let your mind wander any further, a gruff voice broke your thoughts “I’ve never seen anything like this before. Even here, my powers are limited. But I can tell you that this force field isn’t one that I’ve seen before. There’s nothing beyond this border” Cas mused, his gaze wandering up and down the length of the barrier that he can see.

Dean just shook his head as he made his way to his side “Cas that makes no sense. I was on the other side of that barrier”

Castiel frowned “Then it must have been a merge between our reality and this place. Your mind was still getting accustomed to this connection between yourself and Y/N” He explained as he looked between you and Dean.

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips. As you looked away from Castiel, your caught Sam’s stare and noticed him frowning. You just shook your head to play it off “Look, I just want to come home. Do you have any ideas?” You questioned urgently, desperate eyes staring into the blue ones of the angel.

Castiel just shook his head, his hand coming onto your shoulder in comfort “I’m sorry Y/N but I don’t”

You didn’t hide your disappointment, you couldn’t. You were desperate to get home, get back to the bunker and to just sleep in your own bed. Sam noticed how the little bit of hope you had dissipated upon hearing Castiel’s words and it killed him. He stooped down a little, making his tall stature shorter so he can look into your eyes, hoping to provide some comfort “Seeing this though has helped more than you know. We’ve taken in what we can and we are not going to stop until your home” Sam explained, his voice soft before he pulled you in for a hug.

You relished the warmth from the hug Sam was giving you, his tall frame perfect for you to envelop yourself in. That in itself gave yourself some comfort in this harrowing time. Pulling away, you smiled at him and Cas “Thanks guys”

You saw Dean out of the corner of your eye edge forward towards you, his own hands burrowed in his pockets. “No more time wasting, Y/N. We promise. We’ll get you home” His deep voice sounded in the silence.

You didn’t look at him, you didn’t want to acknowledge his comment. You felt yourself getting angry again. Asking yourself what did he meant when he says no more time wasting? Was that directed at you and what happened between you and him?

“Right” You replied, still not looking his way but choosing to look at your feet instead. You tone short and sharp. You looked up towards Sam and saw the concern etched in his features and you felt your resolve break a little, his puppy dog eyes making it hard for you to be angry. With a sigh, you looked between Cas and Sam, not wanting to aim your hostility towards them “I guess this is goodbye for now then?” You spoke softer than before.

The boys lined themselves up in front of you, Sam still reassuring you “We’ll fix this Y/N. I sort of miss your so called singing around the bunker. It’s too quiet” He jested, nudging your shoulder slightly.

“Hey! I have a voice of an angel and you know it” You chided, a small smile on your lips at his jest. You stepped forward to give him another hug “See you soon Sammy”

Pulling back, you moved to your right to where Castiel was standing hands at his sides “Cas, behave yourself” You said before giving him a quick hug.

“I don’t understand, I always behave” Castiel stated, looking down at you as you pulled back from his chest

You just giggled at his straight face “Never change ok?”

You hesitated before you started to wrap yourself back into your blanket. You couldn’t bring yourself to be close to Dean so soon, feel his body on yours, his arms wrapped around you. Right now, you couldn’t even look him in the eye without the feeling of rejection eating away at your insides. With a heavy heart, you angled your body back towards the cabin, wanting to sit in front of the fire as soon as possible.

“Bye guys” You said softly as you made your way back to the cabin.

You didn’t see the hurt that flashed briefly through Dean’s eyes as you turned to walk away, knowing you weren’t going to say goodbye to him. You didn’t see how his stance changed as he itched to chase after you to sort it all out. You didn’t see how he was staring at your back until you were no longer in his sights.

As you got back to the bunker, you shut the door behind you, leant your back upon it and you let out a sob. Your hand covered your mouth to try and muffle the noise, you knew the boys had gone back to the bunker but if there was still a chance of them being here, you didn’t want them to hear you. As you looked around the cabin, your head rolling along the wood of the door, you felt helpless. You didn’t feel hopeful anymore. You didn’t feel like you were going to get the chance to go home. You didn’t feel like you were going to have you happy ending.

In the bunker, Castiel had started to help the boys disconnect themselves from the mind link device. Dean batted the angel’s hands away when he stepped over to help him, wanting to do it himself. Sam noted Dean’s expression, how his mood had shifted considerably and frowned, he knew the conversation between the pair of you was more than just the stress of you being trapped.

“Hey Dean, here’s a question” Sam said as he stood from his chair in the library “How is it that you’ve managed to piss Y/N off when she’s not even here?”

Dean let out an aggravated growl under his breath, rubbing his hand at his brow in annoyance “Shut up alright?” He snapped at Sam as he moved away from the library, aiming to grab a whisky from the kitchen.

His steps faltered however when Rowena came hustling into the room, her eyes frantic “Boys!” She huffed, trying to catch her breath “Follow me, now!” She demanded, her accent strong.

All three of the men quickly followed Rowena down the halls of the bunker, straight to your room. Each of them having concern written all over their faces. As they entered your room, they were greeted with a frantic witch who was faffing around your bedside, lighting candles and flicking through spell books.

“What have you three idiots done?” The redhead asked urgently, looking between all three of the boys.

Dean frowned, stepping forward slightly “Excuse me?”

Rowena just huffed in frustration, gesturing to you “Whatever happened in there has had a serious effect on Y/N’s health”

“What?” Sam questioned, confusion etched into his features as he stepped forward to join Dean’s side.

The red head just shook her head, stilling her movements “Her health has started to deteriorate faster than usual. Her body isn’t fighting this”

Dean felt like someone had just repeatedly punched him in the gut, taking all of his wind out of him. Rowena’s words echoing around in his head that you weren’t fighting the curse. He felt like he was underwater, the words that were being spoken around him not really registering to him. He didn’t understand why you would stop fighting. Then your previous words resonated in his mind. Your words ‘maybe it’s not meant to be fixed’ repeating themselves over and over again.

Dean thought he’d convinced you to fight, he thought you felt safe knowing that everyone here was working on a solution to get you home. He then remembered the look on your face when he brushed you off, trying to keep you at arm’s length so he could focus on getting you home faster. Sure, he didn’t say it in the most graceful of ways but he was selfish for putting his feelings first, he put himself first over your safety and that was something that he couldn’t forgive himself for. In those moments he spent with you, he wasn’t helping the team at home who were working on the cure. He couldn’t help but think that if he was here with them, he might have picked up on the dangers of tampering with the curse. You getting trapped, you getting hurt and now you not fighting, it was all down to him.

Lifting his green, watered eyes from your body, he stared at Rowena. Hands on her hips she huffed towards Sam, clearly replying to something he had said “Well something’s changed and we need to figure it out fast if we want this wee lass to wake”

It was the last blow Dean could take. He needed you to be ok, he couldn’t lose another person he cared about because of his own actions. Not being able to take much more, Dean marched himself out of your room and into his own, resting his hands on his desk, breathing heavily. His flannel hung lose at his sides as his arm muscles tensed underneath, his fingers gripping at the edge of the wood.

He didn’t hear his door open behind him until it was being shut closed by his brother. Sam had followed him out of your room, clearly concerned about the situation. He faced the back of his brother, concern etched on his brow “What did you do Dean?”

“Nothing” Dean murmured, not wanting a lecture from his little brother. This was something he would figure out on his own.

However Sam was relentless “That was not the Y/N I know. You two were close” He stated “You’ve done or said something you shouldn’t, haven’t you?” Sam urged.

“Sammy-” Dean sighed, bowing his head. He wasn’t in the mood for this confrontation.

Sam shook his head, not willing to drop it. You were his friend too. “No Dean. I saw you two together, I saw how Y/N acted around you. So what’s happened?”

“Sam” Dean warned, his fingers gripping tighter at the desk underneath him.

“She’s losing the will to live Dean!” Sam shouted, his arm gesturing towards Dean’s door “She’s not fighting-”

“We kissed alright!” Dean exploded, turning himself around to face his little brother. Sam wore a shocked expression at his outburst as Dean’s expression was one of hurt and anger as he reiterated “I kissed her”

Hearing the fire crackle, you couldn’t help but lose yourself to your thoughts as you stared at the flames. You had stopped crying a while ago but the tear stains were still on your cheeks, you hadn’t bothered to wash them off. You didn’t see the point. You felt exhausted, your body felt drained and you just wanted to sleep yet your mind wouldn’t let you. Every time you closed your eyes, you could still feel Dean’s lips on yours. You could feel the stubble burn your cheeks and the warmth of his hands on your skin. Then you became angry all over again at how he brushed off what happened between you like it was nothing.

You knew that he only probably kissed you because he’d worked out that it helped to heal your cracks but it still hurt. You give him everything you had in that kiss. Moving your hands under your blanket, you let your fingertips trace the cracks in your arm and you felt the tears prick at your eyes once more. You really did feel like there was no point in anything anymore. You felt like you weren’t a good enough hunter, if you were, you wouldn’t have gotten caught by the witch. You would have seen the warning signs. Dean didn’t want you back the way you wanted him to and on top of that, you’d made a fool of yourself in front of him. You were starting to think that maybe things were easier this way.

You picked yourself up off the couch and headed into the bedroom, you didn’t care if you got cold at this point. You just wanted to lay down and hide your head under the covers, hoping to a higher power that you would be able to get a little bit of Dean free sleep.

Standing in Dean’s room, Sam was stunned in silence. He was trying to process what Dean had just said through his head. He didn’t know whether to be happy that he had finally admitted his feelings for you or pissed with how cold Dean was now acting.

“Y-you kissed her?!” Sam stuttered “I don’t understand Dean, how is that a bad thing?” He questioned.

Dean just sighed, bringing one hand to his forehead “I shouldn’t have Sammy”

“What do you mean you shouldn’t have?” Sam frowned, he was obviously confused. He knew that his brother had held a candle for you for as long as he could remember.

“It means what it means now can we drop it?” Dean growled in annoyance, going to turn away from Sam once again only for Sam to grab onto his arm.

“No we can’t drop it. Y/N’s losing the will to live because-”

“Yeah because of me!” Dean roared, ripping his arm out of Sam’s grasp as he turned to face him once more “I let my own damn feelings get in the way of saving her life!”

Sam was stunned at his brother’s confession, realisation suddenly hitting him when he put everything together. The reason why you were pissed at him, the reason Dean’s been so off “So let me get this straight. You kissed her, then decided it would be better to pretend that it never happened?” Sam frowned as he watched Dean walk away.

Dean poured himself a glass of whiskey, nodding into his glass “Pretty much” Dean states before taking a sip of the amber liquid he held in front of him. He just stared back at Sam, taking in his little brother’s look of disbelief.

“You’re an idiot” Sam said bluntly “You always do this Dean. You shut yourself off from everything and everyone and you don’t care who you hurt along the way!” Sam shouted, his arms flailing about to explain his points while Dean didn’t move an inch.

“That’s not true” Dean replied, his tone sharp.

“Isn’t it?!” Sam scoffed, pausing to study Dean’s reaction “Because from where I’m standing, you’re doing a pretty good job at hurting Y/N yourself”

Dean snapped, his jaw clenching “So you’re saying that all of this is MY fault?”

“No Dean” Sam sighed, taking a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose “But from what I witnessed, you’re the one she’s pissed at and she has a good reason to be. You completely shut yourself off from her”

“Because I need to focus on getting her out!” Dean replied in frustration, not understanding why Sam couldn’t see it from his point of view.

“No you need to focus on her” Sam argued, staring down his brother.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Dean chided, waving around the whiskey glass in his hand.

“It means what it means” Sam huffed, walking towards Dean’s door “Stop being an asshole and work it out Dean”

With that, Sam left Dean alone in his room, slamming the door behind him. Dean couldn’t help the wave of anger that washed over him. In a fit of rage, he threw his glass of amber liquid towards his bed. He collided his arms with his desk, sweeping off all of his things in one go. Kicking over his chair before running both of his hands through his hair, dragging them down his face.

He took a moment for himself, pulling his hands away from his face as he stared at his bed, leaning on his desk. It took a couple of minutes of staring for Dean to realise that the snow globe you bought, the snow globe that got you into this mess in the first place, was not on its stand next to his bed. Panic set in as he raced over to his night stand, frantically searching for the globe. When he saw it on the floor, in between the bed and the legs of the night stand, he grimaced. He hoped it wasn’t broken, he’d never forgive himself for his outburst if he’d smashed the last globe you had chosen before you went missing.

As his hand touched the glass, he let out a relieved sigh when he saw that it wasn’t broken. However upon closer inspection, he noticed that it had three dark cracks coming up from the base. He frowned and dropped his head as he cursed under his breath. Yes it wasn’t broken but it was still damaged and that was on him.

He carefully placed the globe back on its stand at the side of his bed before taking another swig of whiskey from his bottle. He thought about what Sam had said to him, about him hurting you. Dean would never do that intentionally and he hoped you knew that. That was the last thing he wanted. He wanted you happy, he wanted you safe and he wanted to let himself love you.

Feeling the sting of another shot of whiskey, he thought about your kiss. The way you moulded against him and how you whimpered at his touch. He knew he was a lucky son of a bitch for you to even look his way. He creased his brow when he thought about how he had treated you. He knew Sam was right, he was being an asshole, especially towards you. Surely you wouldn’t give up hope just because of him? Not willing to waste another moment drowning in his own self-pity, he placed the cap back on the whisky bottle and headed to see Rowena. He was going to go over everything she had been over, look through every book, he was going to find a way to get you home.

As he entered your room, he noticed Sam holding the top of your left shoulder while Rowena was fussing over you. Dean hurried closer to you before seeing that the dark cracks in your skin had extended up your arm to the top of your shoulder. He watched as some of them were still developing, your skin literally tearing itself apart. He saw the frantic look in Sam’s eyes and the worry etched into Rowena’s features. Just as he got his thoughts together, just as he was thinking positive, something happens to swipe that feelings from under his feet.

Rowena looked up from her fussing to see Dean in between her and Sam “Dean, we’re running out of time” She expressed “The curse is quickening its hold over her”

Sam removed his hand from your body and ran it through his hair. There was a tension between the boys and Rowena watched on as she saw both brothers silently looking at each other. A silent conversation ensuing.

“Boys, I’m afraid she’s only got a few days at most” She said softer, wanting to break the tension in the room.

Dean held his gaze on Sam as he slowly started to nod, he knew what he had to do and Sam nodded back at him in agreement. Their brotherly bond showing in the silent exchange.

“Cas!” Dean bellowed, storming out of the room to find his angel friend. Castiel met him halfway down the hall and Dean motioned for him to follow him to his room “Send me to sleep. Wake me up in three hours” Dean commanded to Cas as he lay down on his bed.

Castiel just nodded, giving no argument and asking no questions. He knew he’d get the answers he would need from Sam. Feeling two fingers being placed on his fingers, Dean felt himself fall unconscious.

In the cabin, the rooms were dark. You hadn’t bothered to go out to stoke the fire, you were still trying to sleep, curled up under the blankets. You were currently nursing your left arm, not too long ago the familiar pain reared up on your left arm and you felt the cracks appear up to your shoulder. Of course you sobbed once more, you knew you were in for a slow death and at this point, you just wanted it to be over. The pain had subsided but the wounds were still tender, you were trying your hardest to not think about them. But if you weren’t thinking about your predicament in the cabin you were thinking of your predicament with Dean. It was a lose – lose situation. Squeezing your eyes shut, a familiar deep voice echoed “Y/N?”

You didn’t bother to move, your heart flipped and you felt sick. Before you were with Sam and Cas, you had other distractions but now it would just be you and him alone. You knew he wouldn’t have brought the boys back with him. You heard how his boots thudded on the thick wooden floor boards, you heard doors creak open as he looked for you.

You didn’t have to wait long for him to find you, this place wasn’t exactly a mansion and the human shaped mould under the bed covers also give away your position. You heard him enter the bedroom, knowing that he had stopped at the foot of the bed “Y/N I-”

“What do you want Dean?” You cut him off, your voice monotone, emotionless. You really hadn’t got the energy to deal with him

“We-we need to talk” Dean stuttered softly

You rolled your eyes under your blankets “There’s nothing more to talk about” You replied with a huff

You heard Dean huff back in annoyance “Come on Y/N-”

“No Dean!” You interrupt, tightening the blankets around you “You’ve said all you had to say last time you were here. I get it” You spat.

“I don’t think you do…get it” Dean retorted. You felt the anger bubble within you again. You didn’t want to hear his excuses and you didn’t want to deal with his attitude. To have him now tell you that you didn’t understand his words, made your blood boil.

“Excuse me?!” You questioned as you threw yourself upwards into a seated position, the blankets you had wrapped around you falling to your waist.

You saw Dean’s eyes immediately snap to your fresh injuries “Jesus Y/N, your shoulder. Are you ok?”

You quickly picked the blankets back up and wrapped them around you “It happened not too long ago. I’m fine, alright?” You said, looking away from him.

“Cut the crap Y/N” Dean said sharply as he stared directly at you.

“No Dean. You don’t get to come in here and act as if nothing happened. You don’t get to treat me that way” You snapped, gaining the confidence to meet his gaze. You hated how you were still attracted to him, you hated how he was just standing there looking as perfect as the day you met him.

You saw Dean bow his head, breaking your stare “Ok…I deserve that but I want to explain-”

“What how you used me as an experiment to try and bring me home?” You interrupted once again.

“What? What are you on about?” Dean questioned as he brought his gaze back to you, his brow creasing.

“The kiss Dean! It was all an act!” You exclaimed, frustration getting the better of you and you saw how Dean fidgeted slightly on the spot. You felt tears prick your eyes as you continued to explain “I let you into my heart and you walked all over it like it was nothing. Like I’m nothing”

Dean’s expression softened as he walked around to the side of the bed you were on “Y/N…”

“Save it Dean. Wake up, literally. You don’t want to be here connected to me, you don’t want this burden. It’d be so much easier for you and Sam to go on with your lives and just forget about me” You were trying so hard to hold back your tears but the closer Dean got to you, the harder it got.

He braved sitting at the end of the bed, angling his body to face you “What are you saying?” He questioned, leaning on one of his large hands on mattress.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you played with your fingers “Leave me alone. Let me die. Stop fighting this. It’s not worth it. There are so many other people you could be saving right now. I’m done” Your sentence become whispered at the end. You hadn’t got the energy to argue anymore.

You heard Dean huff next to you as his large hand lunged for yours “Don’t tell me you’re not worth fighting for Y/N” He said sternly, his hand gently squeezing yours.

You just shook your head and pulled your hand away “Why? This is my life and I’ll do with it as I see fit” You retorted.

There was an uncomfortable silence that filled the room after your last sentence. You just hugged your body tightly as you angled your face away from his. For the first time since you had been here, you just wanted to be alone. You wanted Dean to leave you be, listen to your wishes and get on with his life. But instead, he continued to sit next to you, running his hands through his hair. It made you jump when he suddenly angled his body back to you, gesturing at you with both hands.

“How can you be so selfish?” He accused and you immediately frowned.

“I-I’m sorry? Me selfish?” You objected, your anger reappearing and starting to fuel your words.

Dean just shook his head as he rubbed his hands together, his elbows resting on his knees “You have NO idea how much you mean to people back home do you? None! We are literally working day and night to get you home because we all miss you that damn much. We care for you that damn much and yet you’re here telling us not to bother! You’re allowing yourself to give up, you’re letting this curse win because you’re feeling sorry for yourself”

Your face became like stone, you didn’t think Dean could hurt you more than he already has but boy had he just proved you wrong “Fuck you Dean. I don’t see your skin being torn apart. I don’t see you cut off from everyone you know and love” You spat at him, your gaze burning a hole into the side of his face.

Dean just smiled slightly, shaking his head “Oh but that’s where you’re wrong sweetheart” He spoke evenly, his tone softer than before “Because I’m cut off from you”

Stunned. It was the only word that could describe how you were feeling in this moment. You didn’t know whether he had just, in his own way, confessed his love for you or whether you were just hearing what you wanted to hear. You couldn’t help but stumble over your own tongue when you tried to speak “W-what?” You questioned, your heart beating a million miles a minute.

Dean let out a puff of air from his nose as he turned to face you, still leaning on his knees “Do you think I’m enjoying seeing this happening to you? Do you not think that it’s fucking tearing me apart seeing you in this pain knowing that I’ve got nothing to kill, nothing to shoot at to make it better? It’s driving me insane because I can’t fix this! I can’t take your place and you know in a damn heartbeat I would” He stated with a passion, his own eyes glassing over “I have to see you, look at you, motionless on a bed while your body is attacking itself with something that is out of my control. I’m watching you ebb away from me Y/N and it’s killing me. Then I hear from Rowena that you’ve given up hope and stopped fighting, all because of what happened between us?” He questioned as he let a tear roll down his cheek.

“It’s not just that De-”

“Let me finish” He pleaded, holding one hand out for you to take. You just nodded and let your hand slip into his, allowing his fingers to intertwine with yours.

Dean didn’t try to wipe his tears, instead he just bore his eyes into yours as he took a deep breath for what he was about to say next “I treated you like a dick, a grade A asshole and I’m sorry for that. I truly am. But what you saw out there by that fireplace, what you felt, what we did? That was all real. You’re not an experiment Y/N, I told you before and I’ll tell you again, you’re my everything. You’re the one person in this world who can have a fucking crazy obsession with snow globes and I’ll still find it cute. You’re the one person that can pester the living shit out of me in the back seat of the impala and have me yearning for more on each road trip. You have my stomach flipping when you sing along to my mix tapes. You make me smile like a kid at Christmas when you make me pie. I’d die for you Y/N. Can’t you see that?”

“De-” You broke his gaze, you were overwhelmed, your heart was thumping. You felt as if you were dreaming, a blush was burning at your cheeks. You studied his hand in yours and you felt him squeeze it tightly.

“Look at me. Really look at me” Dean asked softly and you obeyed, looking up into his pine coloured eyes. There you saw no malice, no hatred, just endearment. Dean brought his other hand to the side of your face as he cupped your cheek softly “You’re it sweetheart, you’re my endgame. Come rain or shine, it’s you and me”

You couldn’t breathe as you let a tear fall down your cheek. So many emotions were running through you in this second but you still couldn’t believe your ears, you couldn’t believe what Dean had just said “You and me? As in…you AND me?” You questioned, needing to reiterate Deans point as you gestured between yourself and him.

Dean just smiled as he brought his forehead down to yours “There’s nothing I want more”

You couldn’t help the smile that broke out across your face at his reply and you didn’t waste a moment. You let go of his hand to bring both of yours up to cup his face, crashing your lips onto his. Dean eagerly responded to your advances, letting his tongue graze along your bottom lip as he pushed you back gently to lay you down on the bed. His weight feeling delightful on top of you, his hands feeling euphoric on your skin. You felt his hips grind into you as he nipped at your neck. You felt yourself grinding back at him as you whimpered his name. There was no denying how much you wanted him and his need for you was showing, digging into your core through his jeans.

You felt Dean withdraw himself from you, his lips slightly kiss swollen as he looked deeply into your eyes “Wait…wait”

“What?” You asked, a little breathless and a tad concerned.

You saw a smirk appear on his plump lips “Is this technically going to be like a wet dream?”

You bit back a smile and rolled your eyes, your arms wrapping around his neck “Just shut up and kiss me Winchester”

A/N: … Yay? Haha. Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading.

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thisissirius · 6 years ago

Text

to make a home tony/steve, bucky, morgan, outsider POV, 1,889. ENDGAME SPOILERS ABOUND

The summary is spoilery, so I guess there’s surprise ahead!

Bucky is surprised to see Steve return.

He’s certain when he says you’re taking all the stupid with you that Steve’s going back to Peggy. It’s not what Bucky would choose to do, nor what he would choose for Steve, because he doesn’t want that kind of heartache, and he definitely doesn’t want a lifetime of Steve having to hide who he’s in love with because of time travel and timelines and whatever other shit Bruce and Tony came up with.

They’re at Tony’s lakehouse, still, because it makes sense to finish everything here, where it should be. Tony’s dead, but that doesn’t mean his legacy isn’t saving the whole damn world.

“Wasn’t sure you’d be here,” Bucky says, dropping onto the bench next to Steve. Sam’s already gone, to find Rhodey and try to give him some comfort, no doubt, and Steve’s stretched out, a pull to his mouth that isn’t unfamiliar. Bucky’s not sure the last time he saw Steve really smile, and now he doubts he ever will again.

Steve huffs something that might be a laugh. “Almost wasn’t.”

Bucky lets that one stand for a while. Steve’s not gonna say anything, and he’s rubbing the fingers of his left hand together. A tic he’s had for years - decades now, probably - and Bucky nudges Steve’s shoulder. “You gave up Peg. Gotta be serious.”

There’s no surprise on Steve’s face and Bucky’s grateful; Steve knows Bucky’s not an idiot, and he’s never treated him that way.

“I thought, this is all I want, you know? But I was taking the stones back, and it got to the soul stone.”

Bucky knows shit all about the stones, only that he spent blood and sweat and his life to protect one back in Wakanda, and that they’re the reason Tony’s not around to be a father and friend. Soul stone though. That one he’s been brought up to speed on.

“You gotta sacrifice someone to get it, right,” Steve says. “Putting it backs a little harder. I had to see Red Skull.”

Cursing, Bucky stares out across the lake. “And?”

Steve laughs this time, humorlessly, and he stares down at his hands. “To get the soul stone you have to sacrifice the thing you love the most. To send it back, you have to confront the thing you love the most.”

“Peggy?” Bucky asks because it makes sense.

When Steve looks at him, there are shadows to his face, and Bucky’s startled by what he sees. Steve’s devastated somewhere in there and Bucky doesn’t know why, or how to help him. “Not Peggy.”

There’s only one other person Bucky knows who has the kind of impact on Steve that he’s used to Peggy giving.

“Shit,” Bucky says, letting out a slow breath. “Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry.”

“The worst thing,” Steve says, leaning back against the bench, his voice wobbling and hoarse. “Is that I didn’t even know. Neither did he. Said as much. Still don’t get how it works.” A shaky breath, and then Steve’s lip curves into a small smile. “It’s like he was standing right there in front of me. He looked so good, he looked,” another pause, “alive.”

Bucky wants to lean over, to take Steve’s hand and give him some comfort, but he knows, from the way Steve’s curling in on himself, that he’s not gonna accept it.

“I couldn’t stay with Peggy after that,” Steve says, and this time the wobble to his voice is awful as if he’s about to cry. “He asked me,” a swallow and Bucky watches the bob of his throat. “He asked me to take care of them.”

Steve doesn’t have to elaborate for Bucky to get it. He and Tony might not have had any interactions that weren’t fraught with tension, but he’s heard enough to know about Tony’s motivations (the good and the bad). Family, friends, people. Those are the things Tony cares about. Cared about.

As if drawn by the talk, there’s a small laugh and then a little girl’s running up the path towards them. Bucky can hear Stark’s chauffeur guy yelling after her, and Steve’s on his feet in a second.

“Happy, she’s up here.”

The guy - Happy - waves a hand and looks uncertain if he should be alright with this. Bucky understands; the last Tony’s friends knew, he and Steve were at each others’ throats.

“You want me to bring her down?” Steve says, and Tony’s daughter is hovering awkwardly next to the bench, staring at Bucky. Bucky tries not to stare back, dropping his eyes to the floor.

Happy shakes his head, staring off towards the cabin and back again. “I gotta see to Pepper. Will you,” Happy says, trailing off, still uncertain, but resigned.

“Sure,” Steve says, and there’s an ease to his body that Bucky doesn’t buy, not now. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Happy says, and he darts away.

“Morgan,” Steve says, voice wavering again. Shit.

Morgan stares at him, not saying anything for a long time. Her eyes are piercing and she’s every inch her father’s daughter. “Uncle Steve.”

Steve startles, and even Bucky does a double take. “Uncle Steve?”

“S’what Daddy called you,” Morgan says, climbing onto the bench next to Bucky. Bucky’s not sure what to do, whether he should move and leave, or freeze. Morgan’s staring at his arm, and it’s not morbid curiosity, but the kind of curiosity Bucky’s used to seeing on Tony, Shuri, and Bruce.

“Tony called him Uncle Steve?” Bucky asks, a laugh in his voice.

Morgan sighs, rolling her eyes. “Obviously not when he was talking to Mommy or Happy or anyone else. Just when he was talking to me.”

Steve looks shell-shocked and sits down abruptly on the bench. He’s staring off at the lake, and though Morgan seems quite happy to let him, she pokes at Bucky. It takes everything in him not flinch or react.

“Daddy said you was hurt and he made it worse,” Morgan says, and it’s Bucky’s turn to be surprised.

“He didn’t make it worse.” Bucky shifts uncomfortably. “Tony, your dad, he reacted to being hurt and sometimes you make mistakes.”

Steve’s staring at him, soft and warm, and Morgan nods, smiling. “Daddy said you’d say that.”

“Your daddy’s a smart man.” It’s Steve that speaks.

“He was,” Morgan says, her voice quiet.

Bucky wants to say something, but it’s Steve that covers his blunder, pressing two fingers to Morgan’s chin and lifting her head. She stares at him, expressionless, but there’s something watery in her eyes, a hope behind them that’s huge and overwhelming.

“Just because your daddy’s not here,” Steve says, “doesn’t mean he’s not still a smart man, or loves you, or cares about you. You wanna know what he told me?”

Morgan shakes her head, resting a small hand on Steve’s arm. He shifts, takes her hand and Morgan seems to content to squeeze him, her little fingers white.

Steve leans down, gives Morgan a small smile. “He told me you’re gonna be a very smart, caring, wonderful young woman and he wanted me to make sure I watched out for you because he couldn’t be here.”

“Uncle Steve?”

Bucky feels like an intruder for a moment, something passing between Steve and Morgan that he can’t explain.

“Yes, Morgan?”

“Daddy said you was his friend, that he loved you, but you hurt each other.”

“That’s true,” Steve says, pain flickering across his face.

Morgan nods, still clinging to Steve’s hand. “But you loved him?”

Bucky watches the subtle changes to Steve’s face, the pain, the hope, the love that he’s stupid for not having seen before now. Then the contentment that comes from understanding yourself. “I did. Very, very much.”

“Okay,” Morgan says quietly. She leans a little more into Steve. “Daddy loved you too. I heard him telling Mommy when he thought I was asleep. Said I love him, Pep. I know we don’t see things the same way, but I love him.”

“What did your mom say?” Steve asks, his voice deceptively calm.

Morgan shrugs. “To tell you.”

“Shit,” Bucky says, and then startles. “Uh, sorry.”

“Daddy says it’s okay because shit is Mommy’s word, so it’s her fault.”

That makes both Steve and Tony laugh because it’s so Tony, and Morgan smiles, the first smile Bucky’s seen since they arrived at the lake.

Steve’s quiet for a long time after that, and though Morgan doesn’t let go of his hand, she sends a barrage of questions at Bucky about his arm, Wakanda, his past, everything that’s hard to talk about, but he answers the best he can.

Eventually, Steve seems to come to a decision about wherever his mind’s been. “What do you think about me sticking around for a while, Morgan?”

Morgan turns to stare at him, and the hope’s back on her face. “With me and Mommy and Happy?”

“Sure,” Steve says easily. “If they’ll let me.”

“I hope so,” Morgan says quietly. “Happy doesn’t know how to talk to me now, and Mommy’s crying a lot. I think,” she says slowly. “I would like someone who wouldn’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t,” Steve promises. He leans down, presses a kiss to Morgan’s head. “I’ll tell you lots of stories about your Daddy and our job, if you like.”

“Iron Man?” Morgan asks. “All the stories?”

Bucky’s wrong; apparently, Steve's still got his smile. He turns it on Morgan now, brushes her hair out of her face. “As many stories as I can.”

“Daddy’s stories weren’t very good,” Morgan admits in a quiet voice, smiling sadly. “Some of them were, the ones about the ‘Vengers. I want more of those.”

“Then more of those you shall have,” Steve promises again.

“And Mr. Bucky?” Morgan asks, and this time the full force of her hope and attention was on Bucky. “You’ll stay sometimes too?”

Bucky pauses, not quite sure what to say, but eventually, he nods. “I’m not sure your Mommy would like that.”

Morgan nods as if she’d been expecting that. She’s a smart, precocious kid and Bucky’s not sure how Steve handles looking at her with how much of Tony is in her. Perhaps that’s why he finds it so easy. “I’ll ask. You look like you give good rides.”

With that, Morgan sweeps to her feet, and plants a kiss first on Bucky, then on Steve.

“Can we go see Mommy, Uncle Steve? I wanna ask if Uncle Bucky can stay for dinner.”

Uncle Bucky.

Bucky doesn’t watch Morgan and Steve leave, doesn’t think he moves for a little while. The only times he’s allowed himself to think about being an uncle died when he became the Winter Soldier. He’s gonna mess it up, he knows, because he’s not okay, not anywhere close to constant stability, but for Steve, for little Morgan, he’s sure he can be something to her.

“Uncle Bucky!” Morgan yells, and when Bucky stands, she’s at the bottom of the path, hands on her hips, Steve leaning against the cabin steps. The rest of the Avengers have gone, only Pepper and Happy left behind, and it’s gonna be awkward. “Mommy says it’s okay!”

Perhaps this is the start, he thinks, of making it less awkward.

Of making a family and a home.

#endgame spoilers #avengers endgame spoilers #stony #stevetony #avengers fic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #morgan stark #fic by me #honestly im emotional #bye

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