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gutsygay · 4 years ago

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Stuffing Story: “Daniel Gets His Fill”

Hieee 👋presenting my first kink fiction story, just a couple college guys getting stuffed.

Features stuffing, overeating, tummy rumbles, burps, and tummy rubs.

SOOOO um hope y’all like it 👉👈🥺

“

“And that about wraps it up for today! Don’t forget chapter four homework due Monday.” the professor said, dismissing the class.

Daniel grinned, hopped from his seat and headed toward the lecture hall door. He was an active type, and hated to sit still for long periods. As he waited for the crowd of his classmates to shuffle through the door ahead of him, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the nearby glass bookcase. He was average height, with tan skin, broad shoulders and large thighs. He was muscular and lean, save for a bit of a belly protruding from the very bottom of his abdomen, which he could never quite seem to work off, or even to tuck away completely when he wanted to hide his pudge.

Daniel didn’t care though. His main passions were eating, and working it off with strenuous exercise. His energy seemed boundless, but none more than his appetite was bottomless. At the time he wanted nothing more than a full rack of ribs and some buffalo wings. But at the same time he already had energy to expend as well. He wavered about how he’d spend the afternoon when his friend Nick called to him from across the hall, settling his silent debate.

“Yo Danny! We hitting the gym or what?” Nick said with a toothy grin.

“Sure, bro.” Daniel replied. “Leg day today, right?”

“Think so.”

“Sweet. I’ll meet you downstairs in five.” Daniel said, and headed to his car.

He grabbed his athletic clothes. He smiled to himself in anticipation of the coming activity. Soon they’d squat, lunge, press and strain their legs until they were nearly too sore to walk. He turned his thigh to the mirror he’d mounted on the inside of his locker door. His quads were already looking huge - they were getting that chiseled teardrop shape as well. As he lifted his shirt for a better view, he felt a sudden rumbling from down below. It had been nearly four hours since lunch - which was never enough for Daniel in the first place - and he was filled with nearly child-like excitement for what was to come. He thought of his favorite part of lifting - gorging himself afterward. Such a strenuous, calorie-intensive session as leg day meant he could pack it in with no shame.

He arrived at the basement gym, which was open to all resident students, but was surprisingly empty at the time. Nick was already at the squat rack - he had already set them up with a soul-crushing 315 pound squat rack.

“Alright then.” Daniel said, pumped. “Let’s hit it.”

And so they did. They grunted their way through 5 sets of squats, followed by lunges and leg presses. Then Daniel did some calf raises in the squat rack, his belly jiggling every time he descended. Some of it slipped out from under his shirt occasionally, and glistened with sweat. Daniel just rolled his eyes and tucked it back in.

When they finished, Nick lifted his shirt to wipe his sweat, exposing his ab muscles. Nick looked at Daniel’s partially exposed abdominal region and smirked. “You can never seem to lose that chubby little gut, can you?” he said, poking Daniel’s flab, which was still beaded with sweat. “Nah, don’t have the willpower I guess. But I don’t care. Let’s go eat.” Daniel said.

“Sure, maybe just a salad, Danny? If you - “

Nick was cut off by a deep audible growl from Daniel’s belly. Daniel squeezed it with both hands and looked up at Nick.

“Uh, okay bro, how does Wendy’s sound?” Nick said, silenced by Daniel’s rumblings.

“I’m not feeling it. Let’s hit that new buffet instead.” Daniel said, already headed for the door. Nick followed, knowing his friend was now less of a freshman undergrad and more of a beast in search of prey.

They showered down, got back into school clothes and jumped into Daniel’s car. Daniel usually offered Nick a ride back to his apartment whenever he needed it after their afternoon lifting sessions. They headed a few blocks away from the main campus building, towards a new all-you-can-eat buffet. Daniel’s hungry stomach continued to growl louder, but he simply turned up the car stereo to drown it out.

After what seemed like an eternity, Daniel and Nick pulled into the buffet. They walked in and the greeter happily showed them a booth, but the restaurant owner behind her pursed his lips upon seeing Daniel and Nick, visibly ravenous. They had already twice visited the fairly-new establishment. This kid’s gonna drive me out of business, he thought to himself. That orifice must eat his weight in food once a week.

They claimed their booth seats, and beelined to the buffet area. Daniel grabbed a plate and loaded it with buffalo wings (honey barbecue AND blue cheese), meat loaf, a bacon cheeseburger, quesadillas and a pepperoni calzone. The plate must’ve weighed nearly a pound, and Daniel was practically drooling on the way back to the table.

“Jeez, got enough there, bro?” Nick asked as they sat down, but Daniel was already stuffing his face.

“Nnnf, mm!” Daniel forced a reply.

“Never, huh?” Nick asked.

He watched as Daniel tore into the bacon cheeseburger, engulfing nearly a third of it in one bite. In well under a minute he’d downed the whole thing. Daniel grinned wordlessly at Nick while chewing the last bite, and quickly swallowed before promptly moving on to the meat loaf, followed by the chicken wings.

Jeez, does he ever slow down to breathe? Nick thought to himself. And I feel like he’s just getting started. Nick ate a few bites of his ham slices, and mac and cheese on the side. When he looked back up, Daniel’s buffalo wings had been reduced to six picked-clean bones piled up on the plate, being drenched with grease dripping from Daniel’s calzone. Nick watched as Daniel’s eyes rolled back slightly and closed with pleasure every time he swallowed. He’s enjoying it. It’s like sex on a plate to him! he thought.

Daniel finished the 3 quesadilla slices, and pressed a napkin to his mouth. And then he burped. He tried to quiet it, but his hand and the napkin did little to muffle the rumbling gas that burbled up and out of him. It lasted nearly 5 seconds in all, and Nick could even feel the vibration through the table.

“You good, dude?” Nick asked.

“Uh, ‘scuse me, heh heh.” Daniel wiped his mouth and rolled his eyes, trying and failing to play off his prior eruption.

“Damn dude, you really put that shit away.” Nick gestured to the now empty plate before him.

“What can I say? I’m hungry as fuck.”

“You mean you were hungry as fuck.”

“I dunno man, that belch freed up some room.” Daniel said, patting his stomach. His belly had always been a little large, or at least proportionally big compared to the rest of his body, but now it was visibly distended. More? How could he possibly still be hungry? Nick wondered, and watched as he purposefully strolled back to the buffet line. He had just packed away more than 3000 calories as if it were nothing. Nick couldn’t help but feel intimidated, yet drawn to Daniel’s ability to consume like some kind of alpha male.

By the end of it, Daniel had downed a second plate. And a third. And a shish-kabob. And not one, but two bowls of ice cream for dessert.

Daniel polished off the second bowl, and released another burp, not even trying to muzzle it this time. Nick sat in awe. He himself had managed two plates and a scoop of ice cream, but his dishes were nowhere near as heavily packed as Daniel’s.

“Oof, I think I’m about ready to put a cork in it, bro.” Daniel said, fiddling with his pants belt.

He stood up, revealing his overstuffed abdomen. In the past hour it had taken them to eat, it had grown from a miniscule, doughy bump to a basketball-sized food baby. They headed out to the parking lot, and Daniel lifted his shirt to give his belly a little massage. Nick couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“So that’s where you put it all.” Nick said, blank-faced, and finding himself weirdly intrigued by this bodily transformation.

Daniel turned to face Nick. He burped again, managing to muffle it into a low hiss this time, and replied, “I’m not a bottomless pit after all, haha. It’s gotta go somewhere, y’know.” He looked down at Nick, grinning, and gently patted the underside of his bloat to make it jiggle.

“Uh, yeah, heh heh.” Nick replied, watching his friend’s flab bounce.

“Hey, you want to come over and hang for a while? That anime you like came out on Netflix.” Daniel offered.

“Yeah, sure! I’d love to let it hang out with you. Er, hang out with you.” Nick said. An unexplainable chill ran through him.

They hopped back in Daniel’s car and headed off to his apartment. Nick kept glancing over toward Daniel, still in disbelief at the size of his stomach. In the intermittent illumination from passing streetlamps, he saw it bulging and spilling out in between the seat belt straps. He also saw the physique of the rest of Daniel’s body - his arms and chest were defined, and his quads were still bulging from the prior workout. His left arm was fully extended, lazily gripping the top of the steering wheel, his other resting sandwiched between his thigh and his belly flab.

When they arrived at Daniel’s apartment, they went to his couch, turned on the TV, and waited for the streaming service to connect.

“Whoof!” Daniel exhaled, as he collapsed onto the couch. He reclined in the corner with the armrest and the back cushion, and extended one hand behind his head, the other poking his abdomen again. “Heh heh, maybe I overdid it.”

“Nahhh,” Nick said absentmindedly, staring at Daniel’s gut.

“Uh, don’t you think so?” Daniel grinned, raising an eyebrow.

Nick realized what he’d responded with, and simply blushed.

“Yo, I’m about to burst, jeez.” Daniel lifted his shirt further and fumbled with his belt. “I gotta undo this, I’m dying. You’re cool with that, right?” Daniel said, popping his belt buckle open.

Nick paused, still staring, and said, “D-Do what you gotta do, man.”

Daniel’s exposed belly shone in the soft light of the television. He gripped the button of his jeans, pulled with a grunt, “Unnnh!” and popped open the waist of his pants, sinking backward into the cushions as he did so, as if overcome with relief. He pulled down his zipper, and the lower part of his abdomen spilled out, and rested upon his thighs ever so slightly. Then he lifted his belly to grab the waistband of his underwear, and tuck it downward, so that his gut now hung out completely, unrestricted. His stomach gurgled audibly. Daniel put a hand on his chest and belched loudly. Good lord, he has no shame about this at all, he’s just sprawled out, digesting and not giving a fuck. Nick thought. He’d never experienced anything quite like this before.

“Damn, ‘scuse me, heh heh. Sorry about that.” Daniel said, his abdomen continuing to rumble periodically.

“Don’t be.” Nick said quickly, unsure of why he had received such a feeling of satisfaction from someone else’s burp.

Just then, the streaming service loaded, and Daniel leaned forward to pick up the TV remote, and let out a slight groan, the sides of his belly folding into rolls as he did so. Daniel gripped the remote with both hands and said, “This dumb thing doesn’t work right, I need to get it fixed. The show won’t play unless you hold the On-Demand and Play buttons at the same time, for the first few minutes.”

Daniel reclined again and held the two buttons, extending both hands toward the TV, further exposing his belly in his lap. The theme song of the aging anime started on the screen. The catchy, angelic tune emanated from the TV, but wasn’t enough to muffle further rumbling from Daniel’s stomach.

Daniel looked down at it between his arms. “Ugh, it’s sitting in me like a rock. I really gotta burp again.”

Nick was fixated on Daniel, not paying a moment of attention to the anime on the TV. “H-heh, bet you could use a belly rub right now.”

“Ugh, you know it, bro.” Daniel replied.

Nick paused for a long while, staring at Daniel’s plump gut, resting in his lap. “You know… I guess, maybe, if you wanted to, I could rub your belly for you.”

Daniel looked over at Nick, and let out a soft chuckle.

Nick stuttered, nervous he’d made things weird. “I-I mean, uh, since your hands are full, and like-”

“Sure, bro. Come on over.” Daniel said smiling.

“Uh, seriously? I mean, okay.” Nick said warily.

“Yeah man, what else are bros for? Also I’m dying over here, I’ve never been this bloated.” Daniel reassured him, as Nick slid toward his end of the couch. “If I could get a quick massage down there that would be great.” Daniel reclined, and turned his body toward Nick slightly.

Nick rubbed his hands together to warm them, and gazed upon Daniel’s rumbling, distended tummy. In the low light from the television, he could see that it had bulged from under his ribcage, giving the top an almost triangular shape, but became sublimely rounded closer to his navel, and at the underbelly, which spilled between the zipper of his jeans and onto his thighs. There was almost no hair on his tummy, save for a light sprinkling of peach fuzz surrounding his navel, and trailing downward towards his manhood. His belly button, which Nick had earlier seen to protrude slightly outward, had all but disappeared into the newly chubbier, squishy mass of belly.

Nick hesitated to take in the sight up close. “Y-you ready?” he looked up at Daniel.

“Go ahead, bro.” Daniel replied with a smile.

Gingerly, Nick placed a hand - starting with the fingertips - atop Daniel’s belly, and he could feel the warmth and softness of his exposed skin. He placed his other hand on it as well - the fingers wrapped around the side of his belly, while the thumb lightly gripped in Daniel’s sunken navel. He slowly pressed into the soft skin until it reached a point and became firmer, the bloat caused by all the food. Nick blushed and remembered that he was giving a massage, not just feeling his friend for pleasure.

Nick began to press more firmly and move his hands in a slow, rhythmic motion surrounding Daniel’s navel.

“Like this?”

“Almost.” Daniel replied, his eyes closing in bliss.

Nick continued, pressing firmer still, and re-orienting himself on the couch to press and knead from different angles. Nick could still feel Daniel’s stomach rumbling about, working away at the mass of food. Periodically Daniel would let out a small burp, and Nick could feel the vibrations starting deep within his friend’s body, and burbling up and out. Nick wondered what kind of relief he was bringing his friend, if Daniel’s tummy was faring any better due to the massages and release of gas.

“Move your right hand down a little.” Daniel instructed. Nick slid his hand down below the navel, closer to Daniel’s left leg.

“Unh, down more. And press.” Daniel said, sounding almost desperate.

Nick obeyed, his hand now brushing against the front of Daniel’s jeans, and the waist of his underwear. He pressed harder in this lower area, under the stomach, and felt something shift, as if he’d freed up some mass deep within Daniel’s swollen gut.

“Right there, that’s it -” Daniel started, before he was cut off by a sudden, intense rumble, followed by the loudest burp Nick had ever heard. Nick’s head was positioned right near the top of Daniel’s abdominal area, and he could hear the massive expulsion of gas, and feel the tummy deflating. The burp lasted nearly a full ten seconds, and Nick looked up at Daniel, chuckling.

“Man, you feel any better after that?” he asked.

Daniel hesitated to catch his breath, “Yes, oh my God, I needed that.” he said, groaning. Daniel set down the remote, as the show was playing properly now.

At this point Nick was in acceptance that he was aroused by all this, and continued softly massaging Daniel’s gut, which was finally settled, more or less. Nick prodded experimentally around Daniel’s belly button, curious if he could help his friend release additional pressure. Daniel rewarded his friend’s work with several more burps, each bringing him blissful relief as the pressure in his gut gradually decreased. Finally, Daniel’s stomach was settled, and Nick felt the mass beginning to move downward into the lower intestines.

“Thank you, bro. That felt amazing.” Daniel said, grinning as he looked down at Nick, whose hands were still feeling his belly.

“My pleasure!” Nick replied with a toothy grin. He realized that seeing his friend stuffed, and helping him through tummy trouble, made him feel a delight he’d never experienced before. He stayed still, save for his hands, waiting for Daniel to say he’d done enough. But it seemed to Nick that his friend was just letting him stay there, his hands on his tummy, for as long as he wanted.

Eventually Nick fell asleep, his head on Daniel’s lap, and he listened to the last remaining soft gurgles from deep within his friend’s tummy as he drifted off. Daniel soon found himself nodding off as well, in an irresistible food coma, his hand resting on Nick’s back. He fell asleep, happily dreaming of tomorrow’s breakfast.

“

And that’s that, hope y’all enjoyed 😅

#stuffing #overeating #gassy #gassy belly #tummy troubles #burp #tummy rub #tummy rumbles #gurgle #belly rubs #belch #gutsygay #original

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blush-and-books · 4 years ago

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For the celebration ask: canonverse, comfort, confession, flower

Also, congrats on almost or actually reaching 1.5k ❤️

Thank you so much for this ask, my darling!! I kinda went off. not healthy when i have so many of these to do but oh well. i had a very vivid idea so thank you!!!!!

So, maybe it was one of those days for Julie.

They had become more and more few and far between since the boys came into her life, but occasionally, her brain couldn’t help it. Her mood would be soured for no reason besides the fact that she missed her mother, and sometimes it wasn’t even that -- she just wanted to cry with no purpose behind it. It was pent up emotion that needed to be let out, and anything from a sympathetic look from Flynn to Tia bringing her hot cocoa with whipped cream (Julie hates whipped cream) would set her off into a sobbing frenzy.

The band had yet to see her like this until today.

They could all tell that something was up since that morning -- especially Luke -- when Julie came in the garage to say goodbye before school, and could barely look any of them in the eyes.

“Hey,” Luke pulled away a little quicker than usual, reaching up to cup her face in his hands. “You okay?”

Pathetically, she nodded. “Just tired,” her unconvincing voice reported.

But he still saw the tears in her eyes as she grabbed her backpack and turned away.

After that, it became his personal mission to find a way to cheer her up when she came home. He knew that she wouldn’t want him making a big deal about her mood or going out of his way to be disgustingly sweet to her. Julie Molina does not want to be coddled.

Luke can, however, make her smile.

He toils over what he can do for her that won’t make her punch him in the face and run -- he decides, eventually, on getting her some flowers, and setting up some of her favorite music on the garage stereo, and covering the couch in blankets and pillows for her to crawl into when she gets back from school.

(Yes, she could technically go to her bed, but if he can get her to stay in the garage then thats where he wants her.)

He even goes through the trouble of sneaking her favorite cookies from the pantry without Ray noticing the pack floating out of the house.

Everything is pretty easy to set up except for the flowers. He wants to get her dahlias, but he wants to get her more -- like the big bouquets that have five kinds of flowers and weigh a few pounds. It isn’t until he has teleported between grocery stores and farmer’s markets that Luke realizes trying to sneakily swipe a bouquet and poof away before anyone notices will cause the kind of chaos that Julie hates.

So he settles on finding some nice local gardens instead.

He’s as gentle as he can be as he rips some of the foliage from the ground and different pots, finding dahlias and lilies and hydrangeas and honeysuckle and tulips. As soon as Luke returns to the Molina house, he washes them off with the hose in the back, and ties them together to make a bouquet with a stray shoelace from one of Alex’s old pairs of shoes.

Soon enough, it’s almost 3, and Julie should be home from school at any moment.

Luke falls into a panic as he hears the car pull up -- Reggie and Alex left because they didn’t want to overwhelm her with too much attention, and Luke doesn’t know if Julie will even come by the garage if she’s been having such a bad day-

But one of the garage doors opens, and he is gripping the bouquet with an iron fist, and Julie’s hunched frame enters the space with a solemn look.

When she notices him, and the music playing and the flowers in his hands and the comfy setup on the couch, her lip trembles.

“He- Hey, Boss,” Luke tries to greet her, terrified that he has seriously made her day worse. “I- I- I just thought you might need to relax today, so I wanted the place to be ready by the time you got home, and t- th- th- the flowers were just something I thought you might-”

Julie bursts into tears that she seems to have been holding in all day. She’s so distraught that her backpack is still weighing down her shoulders as she lifts her hands to wipe her tears, and Luke charges towards her with the flowers in hand to slide the straps off of her shoulders and pull her into a hug. The backpack hits the floor with a thud.

“I’m sorry,” Luke mumbles, half-heartbroken, into her hair. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make you smile. I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m-”

“I’m sorry,” the girl in his arms sobs into his chest. Her broken voice cracks Luke’s heart and he somehow attempts to hold her closer, feeling his own tears well as she shakes against him. “I’m sorry. It isn’t you, I’ve just felt so bad all day, and I’ve been so close to crying, and now I come home and you’re trying to make me feel better and-”

Her own cries cut her off. All Luke can think to do is softly shush her and run his right hand over her hair, as if it can help. He doesn’t know what will help -- he just knows he wants her to stop crying.

“I’m not upset that you did this, I just- When I feel like this, any little thing, good or bad, will get me to cry. You literally could have smiled at me and I might have reacted the same way. It’s just so sweet, and sometimes I love you so much it hurts. Thank you for doing this.”

As desperately as he wants to immediately question her on the fact that she just told him she loves him so much that it hurts, he can tell now is definitely not the time to deep-dive into that.

So he lays a kiss on the side of her head, and the soothing motions of his right hand continue. “Well, that makes two of us. I love you so much that all I thought about all day was making you happy again. I didn’t know what to do.”

Julie lets out a shaky exhale into his chest, followed by a sniffle.

“You did everything perfectly,” she croaks as she lifts her head and slightly pulls away from him. His left arm comes in between them with the bouquet of flowers, and Julie looks down at them with a weak smile. “Where did you get these? Whose shoelace is this?”

“You have some very generous neighbors,” he vaguely explains. “And… Alex’s. So you should probably get those in a vase so I can put the shoelace back before he gets home.”

In any other situation, she would probably yell at him about the flower thing. But he only sees her smile wider as she takes them from his possession, and looks down at them like they are a precious heirloom. “Okay,” she nods, wiping her eyes. “I will.”

“And then when you get back, we can do whatever you feel like.”

Julie eyes the comfy arrangement on the couch behind him, and the pack of cookies on the coffee table.

“Like cuddle and nap and eat?”

He notices that she finally looks relieved. Not perfectly happy and sunshiney -- but like she’s getting there. To maybe even score a laugh, he darts over to the couch and leaps onto it, toppling some of the pillows. “For as long as you want, Boss! I’ll be waiting.”

After a few minutes, she’s back; speedwalking over to the couch and crawling under the blankets and into his arms like she has been programmed to do so.

“Thank you,” she whimpers into his neck as she rests her eyes shut. The notion of being thanked is so ridiculous to him, because-- Because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

“I’d do anything for you, Julie. You know that.”

The hum he feels against his collar bone is all that he needs to know she is finally content, after a long day of searching for peace.

#jatp #jatp fanfic #juke #juke fanfic

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fiddlepickdouglas · 4 years ago

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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 6 - Going Home

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, bitter to bittersweet, 2.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington is my bestie who makes me these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The next morning was uncharacteristically cloudy. It took the boys a long time to climb out of bed. Reggie was sprawled over most of the larger bed, and Bobby seemed to have stolen the covers (and Reggie’s teddy bear) to compensate for being curled up into one corner. Luke was face down on the couch and somehow not suffocating to death. Alex had lain awake for a while, staring out the window and watching the light slowly creep further into the room. He’d tried sleeping more and eventually his head was buzzing with too many thoughts to keep it up any longer.

It already felt like years from yesterday. Everything was this image of beautiful long hair and dark brown eyes that were a world away, and yet they had more gravity in them than he’d ever seen. Alex was ruined for tie-dye and puka shells for the rest of his life. He knew he’d see nothing else but Willie in them. Skateboards were in a whole other category. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just attached himself to another person besides Luke, Reggie, and Bobby.

He heard Reggie roll out of bed and enter the bathroom, and the motion caused the whole room to stir. Luke lifted his head, and after some confused staring at the arm of the couch, turned on his side and sighed heavily. A tired smile came across his face, and he had that besotted sort of look to him - the one the rest of the guys had associated with ‘Julie on the mind’ - and Alex finally understood. Did he look like that now, too?

Bobby sat up abruptly, a look of sleepy disorientation on his face. Reggie’s bear was clutched tightly to his chest, and he had to look down and realize it was there before gently setting it down on Reggie’s side. Luke simply gave him a puzzled look as he wordlessly climbed out of the bed and went to push Reggie over and share the bathroom sink to shave. Alex absent-mindedly ran his hand over the bottom half of his face, feeling the still-smooth skin underneath his fingers.

The morning was full of light chatter, most of them still too tired to gush about the night before. It was already too late to enjoy the continental breakfast the hotel served, and after each of them finished getting ready and packing, they all looked around at each other.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, boys?” Luke said. Reggie’s stomach growled loudly in the pause that followed.

“I’m gonna guess we find food?” Reggie responded.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I’m pretty sure he’s talking about where.”

All three of them looked at Alex expectantly and he blinked back at them.

“Are you guys just gonna stare or are we gonna eat?” he joked dryly.

They all headed down to the lobby and checked out, dumping their luggage in the van. Even though no one had mentioned the diner, there seemed to be the silent agreement that that’s where they were going. Alex briefly considered suggesting that the guys go to the arcade again, but thought better of it. They were all chill with Willie; he didn’t have to hide anything. Sitting at the same table they had the day before, Alex noticed the place was busy this time around.

A tall man with dark hair approached their table. Alex recognized him from the brief peek out the kitchen door, and the reminder from Willie later: Caleb. He had a clean look to him - pristine was perhaps a better word - and he smiled widely.

“Welcome boys! How are we this morning!” he greeted cheerfully. It greatly contrasted Alex’s first impression, but he thought to keep an open mind. Willie hadn’t really said anything bad about him, only admitted that he sometimes put people off, which Alex could understand if he was running a diner. The charisma was unexpected.

“Oh, we could eat!” Reggie said excitedly.

“Music to my ears,” Caleb said, clapping his hands together. “Anything I can get started for you?”

Alex didn’t pay attention to what everyone else said as he skimmed the diner for signs of Willie. Two other servers were going around but neither of them were him. There wasn’t a proper way to peek into the kitchen either, so if Willie were to show up he’d come through the door. The image of him skating up to them instead of walking nearly made Alex laugh aloud. Luke elbowed him in the arm. Looking up, he saw Caleb waiting for him to order.

“Sorry, uh,” he sputtered. “Toast and eggs, with the banana.”

Caleb merely nodded, as if he had expected as much.

“Wonderful. I’ll have those out for you boys in the blink of an eye.” He turned neatly on his heel. Alex tried not to be too obvious as he attempted to glimpse through the doorway as Caleb entered the kitchen.

“He was nice!” Reggie said.

“Doesn’t count,” Alex told him. “He’s the boss.” It hadn’t meant to slip out sounding that way, but there was likely a bit of truth to it. He was just...disappointed he wasn’t who he’d hoped to see. Alex guessed after so many chance meetings yesterday, reality had to resurface somehow.

Bobby shot him a worried look, but got distracted by Reggie pulling out a napkin and trying to make it into some sort of shape. Alex recalled the frog and wished he had kept it. Reggie’s turned out to be a fortune teller, but since he couldn’t write anything inside he simply used it as a goofy sort of puppet and kept trying to snap at everyone’s fingers.

Luke sat up in that way he usually did like a lightbulb had come on in his head, and he grabbed a napkin as well. Then he looked around, grabbed a pen from the host’s counter, and began scribbling words on the napkin as best he could.

“Got some inspiration?” Alex teased.

Luke shushed him as he focused on getting everything down, and then began humming a melody in a low voice, repeating it to himself. Caleb came back with their plates as he did so. As he carefully laid their orders before them, he eyed Luke in curiosity.

“Are we musicians, here?” he asked with piqued interest.

“Yeah, actually we’re Sunset Curve,” Bobby told him.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie added.

“Well, I certainly have friends to tell,” Caleb mentioned. “You wouldn’t happen to have done any gigs around here, would you?”

“We just played at the Pearl last night,” Luke said proudly.

Caleb raised his eyebrows with a slight smile.

“Impressive,” he mused. “Something tells me you could become big. Consider your meal on the house, courtesy of Caleb Covington.”

All of them looked at him in awe.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Luke said incredulously.

“Oh, of course!” Caleb assured. “You boys deserve all the help you can get to make it in the big leagues. If you ever pass this way again, you can count on us to serve you here and have a place in my hotel.”

“Wait, you own the hotel too?” Reggie asked.

“Just a small monopoly in the market,” Caleb shrugged. “All to serve rockstars like you.”

“”Right on!” Luke smiled, digging into his plate.

“You boys call me if you need anything else,” Caleb insisted as he made off with his empty tray.

All of them ate with enthusiasm. Alex tried to shut up the battle in his mind about how he felt over the whole interaction. Caleb was so generous, how could his first impression have been so wrong? Was he irrationally holding it against Caleb that Willie was nowhere to be seen and that was the only thing bothering him? It didn’t matter, he guessed. They had free food and guaranteed lodging any time they were in Vegas now. That was an investment in the future.

Luke continued to hum and tap and write the whole time, which only bothered the couple sitting behind him. Reggie was bobbing his head along and Alex could see the bassline forming in his head by the concentration on his face.

“Okay, I’m guessing we’re gonna jam this one out on the way back, so who’s driving?” Bobby wondered.

“Trick question,” Alex said. “It’s gonna be me so I don’t get carsick again.”

When they all finished eating Caleb came to clear away their plates.

“I rarely see plates this clean,” he commented. “Looks like you enjoyed yourselves!”

“Compliments to the cook,” Luke said. “They make some gnarly pancakes.”

“I hire the best,” Caleb told him. He rested their plates with one arm as they each got up to leave. “Safe travels, boys. And remember, I’m always looking out for you.”

Alex was the last to leave the booth and took a moment as the other three bounded outside. Caleb raised an eyebrow, waiting to listen.

“Um,” Alex hesitated, wringing his hands. “I met Willie yesterday. Could you just tell him Alex said goodbye? I’d appreciate it.” It wasn't even close to what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to go about explaining the entirety of the day before to this man.

Caleb gave a strange half nod, saying nothing in return. Alex guessed it was a silent promise - maybe he knew what Alex was actually talking about and wasn’t about to broadcast it to the whole restaurant? He didn’t necessarily come off as straight himself, now that Alex thought about it. It was slightly comforting. Returning a small smile to say thank you, he ran to catch up with the boys.

Bobby tossed him the keys to the van and they all climbed in.

“Okay, let’s get to jamming that song before I forget the best part!” Luke cried.

Alex started the ignition and felt his chest weigh a hundred pounds as he pulled away from the diner. Everything inside wanted to stay. Or find Willie and take him along. He peeked at intervals through the rearview mirror, hoping to see him running out from the diner to say goodbye. A hand grasped his shoulder and he turned to see Reggie looking at him sympathetically. He’d caught onto more than Alex had noticed. They only heaved a quick sigh as Alex felt his body begin to shake slightly and he focused his eyes on the road. It was going to be a long four hours.

Much later, the guys were gathered again at the hospital Julie’s mom, Rose, was at. The rest of them had their acoustics while Alex carried a cheap little djembe drum. They were dog-tired but Luke was pulling every ounce of his energy forward to keep all of them hyped. Currently, he was on the phone with Julie, verifying how soon she would be there with them.

“Hey, Alex,” Bobby nudged him as they sat in the waiting room. “Ballroom Blitz?”

“Now?” Alex said, looking around at the gloomy nurses and residents shuffling about their business.

“Yeah, as a warm up.”

He couldn’t help the smile growing on his lips.

“Okay, we just gotta keep Reggie in check.”

Bobby chuckled and shook his head, knowing it wasn’t going to happen.

Alex started up the beat on his djembe as Bobby grinned. Reggie sat up as he tried to figure out what they were doing.

“Are you ready Steve?” Bobby began, trying to stay soft so it wasn’t too alarming. Reggie beamed as he realized what was happening. “Andy? Mick? Alright fellas! Let’s goooooo!” He came in with the main riff as residents’ and patients’ heads turned to see what was happening. Luke had gotten off the phone and was already grabbing his guitar

They managed to get calmly through the verse before Reggie couldn’t help but let the energy take over.

“I see a man in the back, as a matter of fact, his eyes were as red as the sun! And a girl in the corner, let no one ignore her ‘cuz she thinks she’s the passionate one! OOHH YEEAAH!”

All four of them came together for the chorus.

“And the man at the back said ‘Everyone attack’ and it turned into a ballroom blitz! And the girl in the corner said ‘Boy, I wanna warn ya it’ll turn into a ballroom blitz! Ballroom blitz!” They were all getting into jamming now, and Alex was lost in the rhythm with the rest of them.

A nurse finally approached them with a loud voice.

“OKAY BOYS!” she cried, an expression on her face that meant serious business. Each of them faltered in the middle of playing and looked at her like chastised puppies. “Thank you, you sound lovely. Unfortunately, there’s a few patients we don’t wanna disturb, so if you could please save it for your little thing later, we would like that very much.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they all murmured sheepishly.

“Thank you,” she smiled exaggeratedly and went on with her business. Once her back was turned, Reggie pulled a funny face and shrugged, causing them all to suppress their laughter.

“You guys, we could hear you from the elevator,” they all heard. Turning around, Julie stood behind them shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Ray and her brother Carlos were only a few steps behind. Luke bounded over a chair, guitar in hand, to meet her.

“We ready boss?” he enthused.

“Yeah, we just need to check in. We told her we were coming, but not you guys.”

Like the dork he was, Luke simply made the shaka sign with his hand in excitement. Alex felt newly energized from the song, and knew that what they were doing meant so much to Julie and her family. Everything that had been weighing on him all day could be set aside for this.

Shortly, they followed the Molinas to Rose’s room.

“Hey, mom,” Julie said tenderly. The woman had a scarf on her head, and she looked so tired and weak everywhere except in her eyes.

“Sweetheart, who’s this?” she asked, pleasantly surprised.

“These are my friends, Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Bobby,” Julie introduced. “They’re a band called Sunset Curve, and they wanted to do something special for you today.”

She looked back at Luke and gave him a nod. He began strumming the intro to Your Song by Elton John and happy tears immediately welled in Rose’s eyes. She looked at her daughter and pride emanated from her being.

“It’s a little bit funny, these feelings inside,” Luke sang. “I’m not one of those who can easily hide….”

Each of them continued to join in as Ray, Julie and Carlos all took turns embracing Rose. She whispered things to them in Spanish and kissed each of their heads, keeping hold of Ray’s hand as the boys continued playing. She couldn’t sing along as she wished, but she mouthed the words to every single song they played. The boys played for only an hour, but it felt like its own little bubble of time. Alex didn’t want to leave by the time it was over.

They had saved Yellow Submarine for last, and it came as a suckerpunch. Even though the song was supposed to be silly and Carlos was doing all the echoes at the end, they could all feel the undercurrent of grief wash through. The words became a metaphor for some fantastical land where nothing was wrong - where Rose was healthy, where each of their lives were fixed, where Willie was with them - a land of simplicity that didn’t exist. But they had created a moment in that tiny hospital room that felt so close to it, and they could all tell.

Alex felt strange that while everyone else had tears in their eyes at this point, he remained dry. He was moved, of course. There was something about meeting Julie’s family and doing this little performance that made him feel warmth greater than anything he’d known in his whole life. It made him wonder what was wrong with him. He watched as Reggie, who was a sniffling mess, tried to comfort a slightly tearful Bobby (which was a rare sight in itself). Luke wrapped his arm around Alex’s shoulders, smiling even with glistening eyes. For what it was worth, the guys made him feel at home and he knew he’d been a part of this just as much as them.

As everyone said their goodbyes back in the waiting room, Julie held out her arms and all the guys came to her at once in a giant group hug.

“You guys, I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” she said, words saturated with gratitude. “I will never forget this. My mom will never forget this.”

They all squeezed tightly before letting go. Luke and Julie’s hands took just a little too long to separate as she followed her dad and brother out of the hospital. Sighing wistfully, Luke watched her go until she was out of sight completely. The image of Willie skating along the street crossed Alex’s mind in a rueful memory. He was definitely going to hammer it out on his drums when he got home.

“Alright, boys,” Luke was saying. “Let’s head out.”

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havokangel · 4 years ago

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come back...be here (bucky barnes x reader)

a summer romance au, with an inevitable ending.

♡

a/n; this is part 2/3 of my bucky series, inspired by taylor swift’s album “red,” link to part one is here. please leave some love on ao3, as well :)

link to ao3

If I had known what I'd known now

I never would've played so nonchalant

I’ll be coming to see you tonight. Usual time, yeah?

Buck

It’s strange how a handwritten note can distract you from your responsibilities all day. Your co-worker gave you shit when Bucky left it for you, at his usual table. She kept commenting on your rosy cheeks, knowing how this boy affects you. Even when you retort back, protecting your real feelings from her, she knows how hard you’ve fallen for him.

(Ever since the start of the Summer, when he got comfortable with you, he’d start leaving you notes on napkins. You haven’t told him that you have them all; tucked away in a box, memories from this Summer with him.)

It’s late August now, and things in your small, oceanside town are slowing down. Tourists are leaving their expensive rentals, beaches are clearing out by the day, kids are going back to school, and the traffic in the diner that you work at has slowed exponentially. Normally, you’d be looking forward to work slowing down; that means less work for you, as the usual elderly people who reside here all year begin being regulars again.

But this has not been a normal Summer, all thanks to him.

James. Or, Bucky, as he prefers. You learned that the first time he introduced himself to you, with that easy smirk he always wears.

His family came to stay here for the Summer; their first real vacation, after working their asses off to get to be where they are today. He’s your age, 19; still looking for his place in the world, being reckless when he can because hey, now’s the time to do it, when people expect you to make mistakes. You on the other hand? You’re 19 and stuck in a small town, taking care of a younger sibling as your father drinks his days away, mourning the loss of a wife, the mother to his children.

She passed a year ago, and ever since then, you’ve bared the weight of the family’s responsibilities, the family’s reputation, everything to keep things running smoothly. When you’re the responsible one, there’s no time for fun, for recklessness, and certainly not for boys. So back in June, when a boy with gleaming blue eyes and an air of easiness sat in your section, you fell hard and you fell fast.

Being with Bucky is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s like coming home, after being on a sunny beach all day; a burn blossoming on your cheeks, sand still between your fingernails, and hair damp from the water. It’s like driving through an empty road in the countryside, wind whipping through your hair as you think to yourself, it can’t get better than this.

June and July had passed quicker than the sand in an hourglass falls. Every day was spent with him, regardless if you had work or not. He’d pick you up on his motorcycle, every day being a new adventure. It was hard, in the beginning; allowing yourself fun seemed impossible and wrong on so many levels - who would take care of dinner? Who would take care of your sister? Your dad? It all seemed insane, but Bucky made it better. He always knows how to make you feel better.

You swam, you hiked, you laughed, you kissed...every day felt like a dream that could be so easily altering the way you think. Within a few weeks, he turned your gray and dreary outlook on life colorful, almost reviving the life that you lived before everything snowballed into treachery.

But as the amazing, tiring days with him passed, you knew the end was coming. It was inevitable, really.

He’s a Brooklyn boy. Born and raised, through and through. He was going back home in August, and not just back home; he was planning on enlisting.

Army, he had said. Got shit else happening in my life. Might as well.

He told you nonchalantly, in the beginning, when all you would do is talk at the diner, on your slow days. You didn’t think much of it, and he didn’t bring it up again; even when you’d be wrapped up in your sheets together, the easy pillow talk escaping his lips.

But the note he leaves you today doesn’t give you the normal butterflies and rosy cheeks. It leaves you with a sinking gut feeling that you’ve been shoving down down down ever since he kissed you for the first time. So, as you scrub the counters while watching the clock, anxiously awaiting the end of your shift, you prepare yourself for the end; the end of the best thing you’ve ever had, and arguably… the best thing you ever will have.

---------

12 A.M., sharp.

Plunk, plunk.

The small rocks that hit your window make you shoot out of your bed, practically tossing the book you had been reading to distract yourself.

(More like rereading the same page, too anxious to think of anything else.)

Pushing up on your window, you chuckle quietly to yourself as Bucky looks up at you, grinning that stupid grin he always has. His hair looks damp as he rakes a hand through it.

“Watch out princess, m’comin’ up.” He calls out, as quiet as he can be in the situation.

“Don’t break any bones, please.”

“You know I won’t.”

He jumps up to the tree adjacent to your house, legs swinging to support himself as he easily scales the tree. He’s pretty adept at this, with nights and nights of practice to ensure that he doesn’t fall. As if it was nothing, you move aside for Bucky to reach the window sill and easily swing himself in. You can’t help but bite back a smile as he shuts the window quietly, and turns to face you.

“There’s my best girl,” he says, stepping towards you. His hands cup your cheeks as he presses his lips against yours. “I missed you.”

Like it always is, you melt like butter as he touches you and kisses you like that. How could you not, with someone like him?

“I missed you too.” You answer, but your voice is muffled by his lips. Pulling away from you, he tucks your hair behind your ears.

The look he gives you now is different than he normally looks at you. His thumb runs against your lower lip, his eyes slowly tracing the features on your face. Neither of you says anything for a long time, afraid to shatter the delicate silence as he memorizes the way you look in this moment.

You know what he’s doing, and you start to do the same. Neither of you wants to say it, but, you want to remember this, you want to remember each other.

Leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him, after a long silence, his brow furrows and his hands slide to hold your waist; fingers gripping your skin there.

“Touch me,” you sigh against his mouth, hand gripping the hair at the back of his neck. Something in your voice tells Bucky that tonight is going to be different, from all the other times you’ve slept together. “Please-just-please, Bucky.”

So he does. He lifts you like you weigh absolutely nothing, lips never leaving yours. With each touch, each kiss, each gasp; you pathetically attempt to stop your brain from thinking about what’s bound to come.

Afterward, as you lay in the humid, hot air in your room, you’re in his arms. You’ve grown accustomed to this; his sweaty skin against your equally sweaty skin, the window propped open, relishing in the air that hits you. But unlike those nights, no one has said a word yet. And no one does, until he clears his throat, kissing your cheek.

“My flight leaves early tomorrow.”

The words cut through you harder than you thought they would.

“Oh.” That’s all that you can manage to stay. It’s all you can say. The pounding in your head starts then, and you feel as if a rug is being pulled from beneath you.

“Would you want to… see me off? I know Rebecca would want to say goodbye, too.” He says it carefully; his voice an octave higher than normal. He’s nervous.

You don’t look at him, because if you do, your dream-like state that you’ve been living in will leave you and you’ll be left alone with the reality that you started in. So you just nod slowly, burying yourself in his arms, and reply,

“Yeah, I can do that.”

----------

The last time you were in an airport, you were just a girl, saying goodbye to your grandparents. You hadn’t thought of the next time you’d ever be back here; it was so far away from where you resided.

But here you are, with Bucky, a boy who’s changed every fiber of who you are. He’s leaving you to go back to his life in Brooklyn, his new life that he’s going to be making for himself. Your heart is practically breaking already as his parents and sister leave you two to say your goodbyes.

Bag in hand, and a baseball cap on his head, Bucky just grabs you in his arms. He’s strong, and he knows it - you certainly know it - but you don’t care that you feel like he’s breaking you. You’d gladly let him break you, a thousand times over if it meant you never would have to leave his arms again.

He kisses your head, and that’s when your first tear falls. He pulls away after a moment, the sadness in his eyes apparent.

“Hey-hey. Don’t cry, princess.” His thumb comes to swipe under your eye, and you just hiccup. This is pathetic, you think, berating yourself. “I had a lot of fun this Summer.”

“I did too. I just-I don’t want to go back to reality, I guess.” You manage to answer, wondering how he can be so calm when he clearly wants to just...stay. With you.

“It’ll be okay. I have your number and address. I promise I’ll call and text, and hey, maybe even send you a napkin note.” He reassures, chuckling a little, which makes you smile slightly. “There’s my favorite smile.”

Your rosy cheeks return, and he kisses you again. His family calls his name, and he sighs in annoyance, turning to make a face, a face that reads yeah yeah, I got it. I’m coming. Turning back to you, he regains his focus. He’s doing it again -- memorizing you.

“You changed my life, you know that?” Bucky all but whispers.

Regardless if he knows it or not, he’s making this harder for you. You can’t really blame him, though.

“You changed mine too, Buck.” You reply, voice shaking.

With another call from his dad, all he can do now is kiss you; and boy, does he kiss you. He grabs you and it nearly makes you gasp, but it’s quickly swallowed by his mouth on yours; no cares in the world -- which is classic for him. You don’t care how much of a mess you look as he pulls away, and he says,

“I’ll see you later, ok?”

And as he brought color and life back into your life, the world around you feels as if it fades to black and white, returning to the state he found you in, as he walks away to the terminal. In another life, another time, you’ll find him again.

But for now, you mourn. You mourn what you could have had with him, and you drive home, radio on silent. Allowing yourself to be sad is the only way you can remind yourself that what you had with him was real and that something like that for you is possible.

-----------

This is when the feeling s i n k s i n,

I don't wanna miss you l i k e t h i s.

#bucky barnes x reader #my writing #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan #marvel au #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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lordsisterxotome · 4 years ago

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Mine to Dance With (Napoleon Bonaparte x Reader)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Napoleon Bonaparte x Reader

Prompt: dance / “I’m not going to step on you this time, you’ll see.”

Warning: None!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 1,325

Ko-fi: Click here to support me on ko-fi!<3

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Vampire or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Other notes: This is for day 4 of @kissmetwicekissmedeadly‘s Napoleon Birthday Prompts 2020. I meant to finish this a month ago, but then I got sick and couldn’t look at anything for too long without getting fall down dizzy. So!

Tag list: @puffpuff300 @nad-zeta @jiyuu-chan @i-sleep-like-napoleon @kisara-16 @cheese-ception @cailannuesugi @vespeshadowmoon @ravenarld

Let me know if you would like to be (un)tagged!💜

“Look up, ma cherie. I’ve got you,” Le Comte’s gentle voice coaxed, and you smiled up at him apologetically.

“Sorry. Thank you for doing this.”

The greater vampire smiled softly, leading you through another few steps before answering, “It’s my pleasure, though I am surprised you didn’t ask Napoleon to help you.”

“Oh…” You chuckled uncomfortably, your hand tightening in his, and your teeth caught the inside of your cheek as you thought about your last attempt to practice dancing with your lover.

“Did something happen, ma cherie?” Le Comte’s questioning made you startle. “It may not be any of my business, but I’m always here if you would like to talk.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to burden you.” You frowned thoughtfully. Should you share with him? He had already helped you so many times before and you didn’t want to bother him, but…

The hand on your waist pulled you closer, his touch comforting. Golden eyes gleamed in amusement as he replied, “Try me.”

“Well…” Your cheeks warmed as his face loomed close to yours and you mumbled an apology when you missed a step, stumbling over his fine leather shoes. “I do usually ask Napoleon to help me, and he’s always so patient with me even when I step on his feet half the time, but he’s used to dancing with women who know how to dance.” Le Comte’s steps halted, but his arms and hands remained in place. Your feet suddenly seemed very interesting again, the tips of your shoes nearly touching his. “I guess I feel a little incompetent.”

“Ma cherie…” A gentle hand tilted your chin up and you blinked at the look in Le Comte’s eyes, familiar if it weren’t for the different face wearing the expression. “You don’t know, do you?”

You opened your mouth to ask him what he meant, but another voice interrupted before you could. Spinning on your heel at the sound of your name, you caught sight of the object of your greatest troubles and greatest happiness striding across the grass towards you. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips until you saw the look on his face and your eyes widened in surprise. Napoleon looked positively stormy, glittering green gaze narrowed at the man behind you and his mouth set in a near snarl as he stalked closer.

“Napoleon?” You squeaked as he reached out to tug you into his arms, one around your waist while the other looped around your shoulders. The two men shared a look as your gaze flitted between them, and a heartbeat later Le Comte stepped back, tucking his hands in the pockets of his coat. The small, appeasing smile on his face seemed to satisfy your boyfriend who turned and walked away with you in tow.

Blinking at Napoleon’s back as he pulled you along, you failed to notice the regretful softening of Le Comte’s eyes as he peered after you.

“Napoleon?” you called softly as he led you down the hall, “Are you okay?”

Without answering, he slowed to a stop, his hand squeezing yours. His free palm came to rest on your cheek as he turned to face you, his thumb stroking your cheekbone tenderly. His expression was unreadable, the imperceptible tug of his bottom lip between his teeth all you had to go by as he stared at you. Finally, he exhaled and spoke, “This isn’t the place.”

Resuming his quick pace, you followed silently, despite the many questions storming your brain. Eventually, you reached the garret, that special place in the mansion that was all yours and his. Standing in the middle of the tiny room, he took your hands in his, stroking your knuckles as he held them between the two of you. You waited patiently for him to speak, moments passing as the sun illuminated the dust spores floating about the room.

“Why were you dancing with him?” he finally murmured, keeping his gaze on your hands.

“I asked him to help me practice,” you answered honestly.

His brow furrowed, mouth turning down. “Why did you go to him and not me?” His voice sounded choked, pained, and your heart broke a little at the sound of it.

“I thought I’d give your feet a break from being stepped on,” you tried for lightness, but his frown only deepened.

“I never said it bothered me when you stepped on my feet.” his eyes lifted to you and the hurt look you saw there made your heart sink even further. “There’s something else, isn't there?”

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. What would he think when you told him about your insecurities? Would he think you silly for it? Taking a deep breath, you squeezed hands, drawing strength from them as his knuckles flexed, squeezing back.

Lifting your head, you swallowed and tried to hold his waiting gaze. These feelings wouldn’t go away until you at least got them out into the open. Whatever happened after that, you had to at least have a little faith in the man you had given everything for. “I just feel kind of...inadequate, I guess?”

“It’s silly, I know!” you rushed, forcing a couple chuckles as his mouth opened to speak before falling shut again. “I’ve tried to reason with myself, but… somehow…I can’t help but think about how natural it is for you… how much practice you’ve had with those kinds of things.”

“With other women?” he supplied, and you were helpless but to nod.

He sighed and your gaze dropped to your feet, heart hammering in your chest and a ball of anxiety rising in your throat. “I’m sorry, I know-”

Warm arms wrapped around you, silencing you as Napoleon tucked your face against his chest. “I had to dance with other women in the past for appearances,” he spoke, his arms tightening around your waist. “But I never enjoyed it, not until you.”

Cupping your cheek, he tilted your face up to his, making you meet his earnest gaze. “It doesn’t matter if you step on my feet or if you aren’t coiffed like the women from my past life. One of the reasons why I fell in love with you is because I can be a normal man with you. When I’m with you, it’s just you and me. No one else. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Thumping your forehead against his collarbone, you chuckled, biting back tears of relief. You hadn’t realized how much this mattered, how much this had weighed on you, until just now, your fingers shaking as they laced with his. This power he had over you was something extraordinary, a mere few sentences making you feel like you could fly away if not for the steady pounding of your heart in your chest keeping your feet on the ground.

“Thank you,” you managed, unsure what else to say. What could you say to express how happy he’d made you simply for reaffirming something you had already known to be true?

“You don’t need to thank me. I should be thanking you for giving me this life.” Stepping back, you watched him questioningly as he bent his lips to your hand, the perfect gentleman as he bowed to you. Napoleon’s smile curled against your knuckles as he asked, “Will you dance with me and only me, mon amour?”

His grin widened as you answered, “I’m all yours.” Sweeping you into his arms, one hand settled around your waist while the other lifted your own, mimicking the position you had taken with Le Comte minutes ago, yet it felt so much more right this time, like this was where you were meant to be. “I’m not going to step on you this time, you’ll see,” you promised, to which he chuckled.

“You could make my feet black and blue and I would still rather dance with you than anyone else.”

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years ago

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Come Home (ao3)

Jason Todd gets a message from Bruce. He's surprised to see it. Then, he's surprised by the message itself. Hearing Bruce's final message stirs something inside of him, urging him towards a place he's avoided ever since his and Bruce's falling out. So he gathers his things, and then... waits.

He can't leave yet. Jason doesn't know why. Bruce gave him a mission, just like old times. Except it's not, because he... Jason can't move. Can't even stand.

That's how Kyle finds him.

New York City, NY - 3:42 a.m.

Jason heard the flick of a switch before he saw Kyle’s shadow in the doorway. He tensed in his seat but made no move of leaving. Not an inch since he finished packing, duffel lying at his feet. Waiting for Jason to drag it out the window he came through.

It’ll wait a bit longer.

“Jason,” Kyle asked, shuffling closer. He turns the light on in this room now, shadows retreating. Like a warm blanket being pulled away, leaving him defenseless. “Jason,” he repeats, peering down at him. Hair ruffled from sleep, wiping at drool with his wrist. “You finished with patrol?”

He answers with a small hum, knuckles shifting against his lips.

“Rough night?” Kyle yawns. “Why’re you still out here?”

The words catch in his throat, scraping it hard enough he bleeds. Though the copper taste might be from how he bites his tongue. Afraid that if he eased his grip, it all might spout forth like a broken pipe, leaving a horrible stain. Once those thoughts are given form, there won’t be any avoiding them.

Kyle crouched down when he wasn’t looking, dragging his thumb across Jason’s cheek scar. “Jay,” he whispers, “what is it? Why do you have your bag out?” Blinking, Jason notices his lover is more alert now. Staring at him with unnaturally green eyes, piercing like they were constructs from his ring.

The usual finger is naked. Ring absent, as it should be. There’s no need for rings or guns, masks or helmets, here in their apartment. Together, they can exist as themselves. In this small, shared space, they are Kyle Rayner and Jason Todd. Green Lantern and Red Hood can have every inch of the world – the whole universe, even – save the apartment they call home.

But the helmet still rests on his lap. Reflects the light from the overhead lamp, milky lenses staring up at him.

“Kyle,” he chokes on the other man’s name. Then, nothing. His shoulders shudder, vision grows hazy. His lover’s face blurs, but it’s the only thing he can focus on. Closer, rapidly, until the darkness returns. He nuzzles at Kyle’s neck, arms slipped over his shoulders. Warmth treads the surface of his skin but cannot dive deeper. Iced out by the pervasive chill that spread since he answered his phone.

“Jason,” Kyle says, “hey… I’m here… let it out, Jay…”

The muttered encouragement breaks what little remained of his defenses. His tears flow free, unburdened, transporting him years into the past. As a kid, his sadness went unnoticed. Swallowed up by the hustle and bustle of Gotham, too busy for another misty-eyed, dirty kid on the street. Over time he learned how to hide that part of him, wound scabbed so heavily he might never cry again. But then someone saw him. Offered his shoulder like Kyle does now, soaking up Jason’s tears. Riding the wave alongside him.

How Jason wishes he were that young again. When it was simple. Where all that happened between them was a far, twinkling dot in the sky named ‘yet to be’. So he can cry with him one last time.

Kyle, for once, isn’t enough.

“Hey,” he starts, as Jason’s sobs lessen, “d’you want to talk about it now?”

He doesn’t. Might never be able to. And if Jason told him that, Kyle would understand. Kiss along his scar; suggest a nightcap even though he knows Jason will shoot the idea down. Only offering it as a poor attempt at changing the conversation.

That’s why he loves him. That’s why Kyle deserves to know.

Talking is hard. Luckily, someone can speak on his behalf. Jason pulls his phone out, blindly punching in the passcode. Then he hands it over, video already playing.

Kyle watches Bruce. Jason watches Kyle.

The video is white noise at this point, Jason having lost count of how much he hit the rewind button. Listening to Bruce’s voice like sitting on the other side of a window while a severe thunderstorm rages; safe from the pounding rain and deadly lightning. As it plays, and Kyle’s expressions mirror the same marks Jason believes he hit during his first few views, some of the rain slips through an open crack. A shiver races down his spine.

Bruce stops talking. Kyle drops Jason’s phone, collapsing onto his knees, crushing Jason’s duffel. Face blank while he processes what Jason can’t quite wrap his head around yet. “Batman… Bruce Wayne is dead?”

“Yeah…” Having someone else admit it made it easier. It breezes past his lips, “Bruce is dead.” A beat passes, Jason lifts his helmet. “Gotham’s gonna be hell, with Batman gone… defenseless.”

Kyle’s hand hovers over his knee for a second, and then lands. Squeezes it until Jason breaks from the contest with the empty gaze of his helmet so he can look at a warmer, more loving one. “You’re going back then. To Gotham.”

“You heard the video,” Jason shrugs, “Kinda have to.”

“Jay…” Kyle huffs, rubbing tiny circles into Jason’s knee. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know.”

“And yet you’re still going.” There’s no judgement weighing down Kyle’s statement, only concern. It’s a luxury that Jason revels in. “Do you want to go? Go back… there?”

Oddly enough, Jason does. “He sent me a video,” he starts, shifting. Holds his helmet with one hand while the other crawls over Kyle’s. “After everything that went down, he… he sent me a video. I can’t begin to explain why …” Kyle flips his hand, fingers curling around Jason’s wrist. “But he did. Sometimes, in those really bad moments… I figured he wrote me off completely. Kicked out of the nest for… well, y’know. But this I… I can’t help feeling, by sending this, he was saying sorry. For it getting this bad. For not being there when I needed him. Not being around anymore to make it better. If I didn’t go back… let’s just say I’d regret it.” He sniffs, chuckling, “Besides, I’d be a hypocrite if I let the old man die and not leave at least fifty slugs in their corpse after harping on and on about Bruce letting the Joker live.”

“Jay,” Kyle warns, fighting a smile. Losing with every twitch of his lips. “Fifty is a bit much, isn’t it?”

“Forty-nine, then?”

“You’re not funny.”

“Yes, I am,” Jason says, scraping at Kyle’s wrist with blunt nails, “you love my jokes.”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “I love you. Your sense of humor is one of the many crosses I bear for doing so.”

“Yeah, well…” The levity flees as the weight of the situation reasserts itself, both their mouths thinning into serious lines. Jason tugs himself free of Kyle’s hold, clutching at his helmet with both hands again. “I have to go.”

“For how long?” he asks.

Jason frowns, “I… I’m not sure.”

Nodding, Kyle stands. Towers over Jason, bangs hanging over his face. He pushes them out of the way, brushing them behind his ear. “You don’t have to leave right away, do you?”

He thinks about it. Not for long. “I… guess I can wait until morning.”

“…Thank you.”

Jason follows Kyle, dropping Red Hood’s helmet on the duffel. Sheds his layers in a trail towards their room, falling into bed beside his lover. Kyle wraps his arms around him, kissing him. Maps out well-worn paths on more scars scattered over his body. He accepts the laved attention, soaking it up. Memorizes each caress for the lonely nights to come.

There’s a whispered prayer mixed in with Kyle’s reverence. “Please Jay,” he says, “Come home to me.”

Jason could say it a million times in a million different ways, none of which would make a believable promise. Instead he kisses Kyle. Kisses him until exhaustion overpowers them both, Jason falling asleep in Kyle’s arms.

When Kyle awakes next, however, there’ll be no one there. No Jason, no bag on the living room floor, and no blood red helmet. By then, he’ll be on his way to Gotham and away from home.

Coming back only when he’s ready to.

#batman #red hood #green lantern #jason todd #Kyle Rayner #jason todd x kyle rayner #jaykyle #red hood x green lantern #gotham knights #jaykyle fic #bruce wayne

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idreamofplaid · 5 years ago

Text

Beneath the Smile

Summary: Jared’s struggle with depression bubbles to the surface, and the reader is there to love and support him through it.

Characters: Jared x Reader; Jensen

Word Count: 2119

Warnings: Discussion of depression

A/N: This fic was inspired by an Ask I got from @sandlee44. It takes place at the time of Jared’s Season 3 breakdown. It is, of course, fiction. All the love to Jared always for having the courage to share his personal struggle with so many of us fighting the same battle.

It was two o’clock in the morning when the phone rang. I reached in the dark for my bedside table and patted my hand over the smooth surface until I found it. When I turned it over, the little screen brought a faint amount of light into the room. Then my eyes focused, and I read the name of the caller. Jensen. I sat straight up, instantly awake now, and pressed the button to answer his call.

“Jensen, what’s wrong? Jared? Is he okay?” My words were spilling out of my mouth at a rate to match the now pounding beat of my heart.

“He’s okay, Y/N, but I think you should come to Vancouver.” I noticed that his voice was still in the register of Dean deep. At first, I thought that was because of the late hour, but as he kept talking I realized it was because he was exhausted. “I’m at Jared’s apartment now. I came home with him.” My heart sank down to the pit of my stomach. I was terrified of what Jensen was going to say next. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

I struggled to find my voice. I had to ask, had to know, and Jensen wasn’t the kind of person to offer up information. The mere fact he’d called me told me just how serious this was, especially considering it was the middle of the night on the east coast where I was. “Tell me what happened, Jensen.”

I could practically hear him thinking, trying to figure out the best way to tell me whatever it was. “Jared had some kind of breakdown.” I grabbed a handful of my comforter and clutched it in my fist. “He was late coming back to set, so I went to his trailer to find him. He...he couldn’t get off the couch. He’d...just...shut down.”

“Why?” It was all I could think to say. My mind was racing, flying back through all the years I had known Jared. I’d been scared something like this was going to happen for a long time. Jared’s struggled with depression went all the way back to high school.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Nothing unusual happened. It’s about what he’s thinking and feeling, but that’s something he should tell you.”

I got off my bed and went to the closet while Jensen talked. My suitcase was on the shelf where I’d put it when I got home from my last trip to Vancouver. “Where is he now?”

“He’s sleeping. It was a long day.” Jensen paused, and I could tell he was weighing something in his mind. “The producers wanted to shut down production, but Jared wouldn’t. We’re going back to work tomorrow.”

I dropped my suitcase on my bed with a thud and zipped it open. “Jensen, please keep an eye on him. I’m catching the first plane I can tomorrow.”

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

It was early October, and the air was filled with a crisp Canadian chill. Jensen had arranged to have a car and driver pick me up at the airport and bring me back to the set. I’d only been there once, but it still seemed familiar to me, probably because I’d pictured it so many times. It was the way I stayed connected to Jared over the months I was falling in love with him from thousands of miles away.

I walked up the steps of the very trailer I’d imagined so many times and opened the door. The inside was neat, but not perfect. That was a good sign; Jared was at least trying. Keeping things tidy was a challenge for him because he had the type of personality that just exploded around you in a sunburst and often he was so wrapped up in that energy that the details of his surroundings didn’t even register with him.

There were throw pillows scattered over the couch. I’d gotten them for him after that first visit because I thought his work space needed a homey touch. I wanted him to be comfortable here. I made my way to the sofa, sat down, and picked up a navy pillow. I hugged it to my chest and remembered the first time Jared brought me here.

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

One Year Ago

The smile had barely left Jared’s face since we’d gotten to the lot. He enjoyed being here, and everyone clearly loved him. The hair stylist had winked at me as she settled him in the chair and handed him a pack of gummy worms. “It’s the only thing that keeps him still.” Jared had pulled one of the sugar covered candies from the pack and held it out to me. I’d taken it from him and took a bite. The sugar had quickly covered my tongue, and the sound of Jared’s laughter caused a smile to bloom on my face.

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

Present

That seemed like a long time ago at the moment. The rattle of the door pulled me out of my reverie, and I hastily put the pillow back into its place. Jared sighed as he walked through the door, then he saw me. “Y/N.” He scrunched up his face, and the spot at the bridge of his nose wrinkled. “What are you doing here?” He was immersed in the look of Sam Winchester from head to toe, complete with all the layers, but he was still every bit my Jared. My Jared, full of sunshine and the darkness that tore at him.

I chose my words carefully. “I thought you might like to have me here, and...I wanted to be with you. Jared took off Sam’s jacket and dropped it on the counter. We were going to talk about it eventually, so I might as well say it. “Jensen called me.”

Jared had unbuttoned his cuff and was rolling up the sleeve. He stopped when he got to his elbow and hesitated before moving on to the other side. “He did?” Jared lifted his eyes to glance at me, his hand was on his sleeve motionless. “What did he say?”

I didn’t want to make Jared uncomfortable, but I couldn’t stop staring at him. The love I felt for him had guided my every move these past few months. I was actively engaged in trying to make myself a better person for him. He inspired me like that, and he didn’t have any idea.

“He told me you had a hard day, but he didn’t give me any details.” Jared didn’t answer, and I stayed quiet too. He walked over to the couch and sat down on the other end, then he leaned back and stretched his arm out across the back. He wasn’t making eye contact, but he shrugged and started to talk.

“I don’t know what happened. Shooting was going great. We were taking a scheduled break, and I came back here. I planned to unwind for a few minutes, listen to some music, but when I got here something just kind of came over me.” Jared lifted his arm and ran his hand through his hair. “I just started thinking I don’t belong here.” I saw him swallow, and I wanted to reach out to him, but I knew it was important to let him talk. “Look at this.” His head turned, scanning the trailer. “I’m a lead on a TV show. I’m not that good. There are so many actors better than me. There are people who hate me because of what I have, and there are people who want to be my friend because of it, because of what they think I can do for them.”

Jared tipped his head back, resting it on the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “There’s just so much pressure. What if I can’t keep this up. I’m cracking, Y/N.” He turned his head to look at me without lifting it. “I sat here on this couch, and I couldn’t move. I was scared if I went out there, everyone would know. They’d know I’m fake, that I’m not really what they think I am at all, and I can’t do this.”

Jared abruptly lifted his head and stood. His back was to me as he continued. “How’d I get here? I got lucky. That’s all. I’ve always been too skinny. My hair just does whatever it feels like. I have too many moles that have to be airbrushed and covered with makeup. I can’t cry when the script says to do it. It always looks forced, and then after I can’t stop crying because I couldn’t cry.”

He turned, ran his hand through his hair again and then down over his face. “I want to be good at this. I want to be an actor, but there’s so much of this that isn’t acting. Image. I don’t want to hear that word anymore. I’ve got all these people telling me who to be and what to say in interviews. They tell me how to dress.”

Jared took a deep breath. “There’s so much pressure. Kripke told Jensen and me at the very beginning that this whole thing is riding on us. If it fails, it’ll be because of me, Y/N. What would PR do if this got out? How would that look? I had a breakdown on set. I couldn’t take it, Y/N.”

It was time to say something. “Jared, come sit with me.” This time when he sat down, it was beside me. I took his hand in mine, so big, so strong but soft. “Jared, you have a very special gift. Acting is part of it, but it’s not the most important part. You know how to connect to people.” It was true. That was what had drawn me to him in high school. Jared circulated outside cliques; he actually saw people.

I scooted closer to him. “The world doesn’t always appreciate that. It wants to put us all in a shiny box, and you resist that.” I slipped my free hand into his hair and combed my fingers through the soft locks that he thought were so problematic. “You keep hold of what’s real about you, no matter how many cameras and lights they put in your face. Your heart is kind; that’s why I love you.”

Tears formed in his eyes, and they threatened to fall. “I don’t deserve any of this, Y/N. I’m not worth it. I’m not who they think I am.”

I pulled my hand from his hair and let it rest on his cheek. “It doesn’t matter who they think you are. It matters what you know, and you’ll figure it out.”

A single tear slipped down Jared’s cheek, and he nodded silently. Then he wrapped his arms around me and held on. “I love you, Jared.” I rubbed my hand up and down his back. “You don’t have to be anything for anybody. Just you.”

After a few minutes, he pulled back and began to try to compose himself. “Jared, you don’t have to put on a face for me. I want you just the way you are.”

I fed him, using the ingredients in the fridge to make a sandwich. When Jared got like this, he tended to stop eating. It wasn’t time just yet to talk about finding him a therapist, but we would have that conversation before I left Vancouver. Right now, the focus was to take care of him by keeping him hydrated, nourished, and feeling safe, feeling loved. With this last in mind, I asked him. “Do you want to lie down with me?”

He bit his lip, and it would have been cute if my heart didn’t hurt for him. “Yeah. I’d like that.” I led him to the bed at the back of the trailer. Jared unbuttoned his top shirt and took it off, followed by toeing off his shoes. He took off everything else, leaving him in his t-shirt and boxer briefs. I made my way to the little closet in the corner and found one of his shirts I could wear, then went back to the bed where I found Jared under the covers.

I climbed in next to him, and he pulled me close. There was no sex; this was more basic, more intimate. Jared eased his hand beneath his shirt where he could feel the warmth of my skin. We stayed wrapped in each other like that, and I gave him the comfort he needed until he fell asleep. I would make sure he got the rest he needed too, and when he woke up; I would still be there to love and support him.

Everything Forever: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @maddiepants @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @iknowwheremytowelis @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @oldfreakything

Sam/Jared Love: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @theychosefamily @winchesterxfamilybusiness @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @i-joined-social-media-finally @wingledsam @autumninavonlea @spnxbsessed @durinsbride @deansyahtzee @wendibird @fantasy-shadows @team-free-will-you-idjiot @waywardnerd67 @neii3n @fullmooner @supernatural-took-me-over @julesthequirky @songbird400

#jared angst #jared fluff #jared x reader #reader inser #spn rpf #jared oneshot #jared fic

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lailannajacobs · 4 years ago

Text

Changing Reality

Pairing: Angel!Bucky x demon!reader

Summary: It’s halloween, the one time on earth you actually like...too bad it’s ruined by the last person you ever wanted to see.

Warnings: kinda angsty

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Hey all! This is my halloween special that I’m so glad I managed to finish up before the first! Hope you enjoy it, I’d love to know what you think! <3

Changing Reality

You suck in a deep breath, the fear, the chaos and excitement palpable on your tongue. There’s already so much of it in the air, swirling and growing as if it has a life of its own and it’s only 8 in the morning. A wicked grin curls at your lips, the possibilities endless, your freedom so much closer. You love halloween.

You step out your front door, your illusion discarded like shedding away a too-tight skin. There’s no reason to keep it in place today. Today is the one day that no one looks twice at a demon walking down the street. The only thing you can’t shed are the silver bracelets weighing you down.

“I love your costume, Ms. YN!” your neighbour’s daughter shouts from the end of the driveway where she’s waiting for the bus.

You grin, razor sharp teeth making her gasp in awe, “Thank you, darling. And yours is absolutely bewitching.”

She gives a little twirl, her pink backpack flopping up and down over her black dress. Adjusting her witch’s hat, she shoots you another smile before hopping on the bus. The other students on the bus press their noses to the windows, eyes wide. Children are so much keener than adults, still believing that the impossible is possible. It’s the reason why you let your eyes flare, their natural violet colour glowing bright in the early sun. One mouths cool and you let out a sigh, the pressure of 364 days of keeping hold of an illusion finally off your chest. This is the one day in your eternal prison that reminds of you of the old days when you were here by choice. The memories are bittersweet and you push them from your mind, determined to enjoy the only day on earth that you can.

“Hello, YN.”

You tense, his voice stealing your breath even though it’s been centuries since you last saw him. You can’t help but wonder if you conjured him by thought. There is so much suffering you want to cause him and yet you know that none of it will be enough for the pain he caused you; none of it will ease the pain he caused when he dragged you from your merry existence and trapped you into this one. You aren’t going to giving him the satisfaction of attacking him. He doesn’t deserve anything other than cold hatred. For now.

You turn slowly, a devilish sneer on your lips as you face the angel, “James. What do I owe the pleasure? Have you come here to gloat?”

He stands a little straighter, smoothing down his pristine black suit. His wings aren’t out, probably afraid he’ll draw attention to himself. You roll your eyes. After all, you’re a demon and barely anyone has looked at you twice. Angels have always been far too conceited to think they could ever blend into a crowd.

“Why would you assume that?” he asks, blue eyes fiery, “would it be because, even after all these years, you’re still trapped here on earth?”

“Go back to heaven,” you spit, “today is not meant for you.”

The laugh that comes out of his perfect mouth is nothing short of condescending and nothing like the laugh you used to know, “and you think it is for you?”

“Look around. This day celebrates the terrifying — the monsters. But after what you’ve done, maybe you should stick around.”

He doesn’t miss the hatred in your voice. He knows that he’s the last person you’d ever want to see and have stick around, today of all days. You hope he knows that monster is too kind a word for him.

“What are you doing here, today of all days? What does your precious daddy have you doing?”

You flash another crazed smile to a brother and sister walking by behind James and their startled looks calm the flame building inside you enough that you don’t do anything rash.

“Nothing you need to know about,” he says curtly, eyes darkening as they drag over you in inspection.

You shake your head, not sure why a small part of you might have thought anything different would happen. You stalk past him.

“Go find someone else to torture,” you call over your shoulder, “because I have better things to do with my day than stay here chatting with you.”

When you hear the familiar whooshing that signals his departure, your posture breaks and you hear nothing more than your pounding heart. If you never saw him again, it would be too soon.

2nd Century A.D

You skip through the town, screams still echoing behind you. The fear grows by the second, the other civilians hidden in their huts, terrified you might chose their home to enter next. The satisfied cackle that leaves your throat echoes through the night, piercing their terrified hearts like spears. There’s still so much chaos and terror to thrive on, but you’re satiated, knowing you should go back to hell. Yet you stay for a little bit longer, basking in the cool, bright air that is earth, staring up at the million stars above.

A whoosh behind you cuts through the terror and you whirl with a grin, ready to pull and tease the fear from this one brave soul.

You hiss in surprise at the sight of the wide expanse of feathery of wings, a blue so dark they’re almost black. You’ve never met an angel before. Very few of your kind have and have lived to tell the tale.

His hands are clasped, resting on his black tunic, and he tilts his head, dark, shoulder length hair tumbling to the side. You want to vanish, escape to the safety of hell, but you’re mesmerized by eyes so cold, so blue, the likes of which you would never see on a demon.

“Leave monstrosity,” he growls, “before I make sure you never come back.”

You know you don’t know much about human life, but you could never understand why they would worship something like him, no matter how handsome. They’re violent, arrogant and the reason your numbers are diminishing slowly. You don’t want to stand down to someone like that. So you don’t.

You shrug, pretending he doesn’t intimidate you in the slightest, “what if I’m not done feeding?”

His hand lashes out, grabbing and lifting you by the throat before you have a chance to move. It doesn’t hurt. This is a warning, not a threat. He could kill you if he wanted to. He should kill you. You know those are his orders. But nothing happens. You wonder if he’s the kind to play with his food, but his eyes are wide and unblinking.

Piecing the look together, you let out a satisfied laugh, “you can’t do it. Can you?”

His grip tightens and he brings you so close that your faces are practically touching. You should feel fear but somehow you know you’ll make it out of this alive. Instead, all you feel is excitement, drawing off this strangely exquisite energy crackling between you two.

“I just like to watch you squirm,” he croons.

“And I only came here to feed,” you whisper back, biding your time, “what is it that you angels feed on, I wonder? Is it this? Is it feeling powerful over a plain ol’ demon?”

Fury lights his eyes like a bonfire. Using all the strength you have left, you force forward, smashing your lips against his. His surprise and disgust are immediate. He drops you and takes a step back before he realizes what he’s done.

You grin, “see you around angel.”

And then vanish into thin air.

You have trouble shaking the strange feeling your meeting with James left crawling up and down your skin as you make your way to work. Living on earth throughout the centuries had gotten boring, but in the last century you’d found yourself a job that has kept you preoccupied. It’s one of the most chaotic places on earth, and as you pull open the doors, getting hit with a whirlwind of emotion, you feel calmer by the second.

“Woah Ms. YN!” a sixth grader stops, punching his friend on the shoulder so that he’ll look too, “cool costume!”

You shoot them a toothy grin, “thank you boys.”

They take off, about to run down the hall, but you don’t let them.

“Boys,” you snap, your voice echoing unnaturally.

Everyone in the hall freezes, cowering under your stare. They nod quickly and walk off, shoulders hunched over, the rest of the students resuming their activities. There’s lingering fear and excitement in the air. It makes you breath easier.

The rest of the morning passes by in a blur of halloween activities, little school work and candy that only serves to get them more excited. By the time you’re ready for lunch, your good mood has returned. You step out into the cool air, heading to the nearby cafe for lunch. You’re waiting at an intersection when you hear the whoosh, the breeze tickling your face.

“What now?” you snap, keeping your eyes focused on the crossing countdown.

“You have a job,” he remarks.

You think maybe you hear surprise in his voice, but apparently you were never actually able to read him. You won’t make the same mistake of trying to read more into it, even if you’re beginning to get curious as to why he’s here. Over two hundred years since he trapped you on earth and you never saw him once. Now, twice in one day. It’s almost enough to get to you to ask. Almost. But there’s far too much pain and anger for curiosity to have its way.

“It’s what humans do,” you snap.

You start off across the street hoping he won’t follow. He does, yet he doesn’t say a word, following you silently into the cafe. You hate it. You hate him. You hate the way he smells like the cologne he used to wear in the 19th century. You hate the way he stands too close. You hate the way he gets under your skin without even saying a word. You hate everything about him so much so that you have to restrain yourself from doing anything incredibly violent in public.

“Whatever your purpose here,” you snarl, “get it done and move on. I don’t have time for you to follow me around like a lost soldier.”

The barista takes a step back, eyeing you warily. You grin back to terrify him more, hoping the fear will lift the weight on your chest.

“I’ll have a latte,” James says, immediately putting the barista at ease.

You use everything in your power not whirl around and punch him. There’s no doubt in your mind he realizes what he’s done, your two abilities complete opposites.

“I’m waiting,” he finally murmurs, “my task here isn’t an easy one.”

You actively try not to crush the dollar bills in your hand and say, “if you’re waiting for me to ask what it is, I don’t care as long as you leave me alone.”

“Very well.”

He vanishes and only a few people look up in surprise. It escapes most people’s notice, the expectation of seeing weird things on Halloween clouding their judgement. You’re left standing there, trembling. You can’t tell if it’s fury, nerves or agony. You know shouldn’t feel anything after all these years, but he’s shaken you to your core. If this is what he came here to do, then he’s succeeded. And you hate him all the more for it.

6th Century A.D

You skip through the dark streets of the village down to the docks, the massive dragon heads at every helm staring back at you. The hunger gnawing at your stomach drives your forward, anticipation growing. You’ve read their stories. You know there’s plenty of fear here to be teased out.

He drops heavy to the ground, dust flying around in a massive cloud. He widens his stance, blocking your way. You haven’t seen him in a few centuries, but you know he hasn’t forgotten your last encounter — not with that look in his eyes.

“I see you couldn’t stay away, angel,” you back into a fighting stance, readying yourself this time.

He tilts his head to the side, a predatory smirk on his face. This time he’s ready for you. There’s no doubt in your mind. But you’re not afraid. You bested him before and you have no doubt that you will again.

He moves fast. You barely have enough time to block his hit before his next one comes. Every hit has you on the defensive, unable to gain the upper hand. You’re not discouraged though. He plays fair. You don’t. You pull out a dagger and fling it at him, causing him to stumble back in an attempt to evade the hit. His momentary distraction is enough for you to send him sprawling to the ground. Your victory doesn’t last long and the air is punched out of your lungs by the impact of your body hitting the ground.

You look up, piercing blue eyes and navy wings blocking out the night’s sky. You struggle against the weight of his body, but he’s caged you in with his thighs on either sides of yours and his hand keeping your wrists pinned over your head. He grins and you snarl at him, thrashing to get free. He leans in further so that you can no longer move.

“Don’t be foolish, demon,” he purrs, “I’ve won.”

You feel the vibration of his words through your chests and the tickle of his breath on your cheek. You glare up at him. The smirk on his face only grows.

“Then kill me, angel. I know you can do it,” you taunt, lifting your chin slightly.

Your lips are almost touching, but this time he doesn’t back away, ready for your games. Instead, he dips his head and whispers, “but how could I kill you, when you can simply vanish back to hell?”

You blink back your surprise. The only explanation is that he’s letting you go, but it can’t be…He raises a brow. Without giving him a chance to change his mind, you vanish back to hell.

You head back home, unable to get James off your mind. You don’t know why or what he’s come to earth to do, but you can’t help but think it’s a cruel joke on his part. Now that he’s no longer near you, all you feel is anger. You can’t help but also be frustrated with yourself. Every time you had imagined coming face to face with him, you had sworn you would make him pay for what he’d done. Now, you’d seen him twice already and you were so flustered and emotional that even your students wouldn’t have taken you seriously.

Your neighbour tentatively waves at you as you walk up your driveway, taken aback by your appearance. His fear, although noticeable, does nothing for your mood. You’re tempted to stay in for the night, but you refuse to let James ruin your evening. You’d gone to the town’s costume party for the last five years and tonight won’t be any different. But you’d be kidding yourself if you said it felt the same.

The slinky little black number you’d hung over your closet door this morning reminds you of all the fun you’d had in it last year. It manages to tease a small smile from your lips, and with an encouraging sigh, you get ready for the night.

As you make your way to the town hall, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll cross James there. Had this been like before, the two of you would have blended into the night, the massive energy flow of the party shielding you from being discovered. Every time you had come up from hell, James had been there. Most of your memories associated with earth had been connected to him, but now, as you look around the party you just walked into, there are memories everywhere and none are of him.

There are so many questions you want to ask him, but you know your anger will never let you. The bracelets shake on your wrist. You still don’t understand what happened — where the betrayal had come from…You had never been more mistaken in your life.

Your breath comes out in shaky gasps, fear taking over. The pain is so intense it floods your mind and all you can think of is that you’re going to die. You don’t know how you didn’t see those angels coming. Hell, you’re surprised you even managed to get out alive, but now, you’re too weak to get back to home. You try to stop the bleeding. The pressure on your wounds only makes you want to collapse. You’re going to die here. Alone. Your legs give out and the pain of hitting the ground makes you black out.

When you come to, tremors still wrack your body, but the pain is somehow bearable. You open your eyes, but you don’t immediately recognize where you are. There’s no light in the room you’re in and it’s only because of your enhanced sight that you notice the gardening tools that line the walls. You don’t try and lift your head. Instead, you search for some kind of feeling from the outside world that might tell you where you are, but there’s nothing. You pause. There’s never nothing. Everywhere on earth sways more to one side or the other…except for. You’re about to try and push yourself up, wondering how the hell you got to a place like this when he speaks.

“I wouldn’t recommend it. I couldn’t bring you anywhere you would heal faster because they would be looking for you. This is your best option until you’re well enough to go home.”

You peer through the darkness to find him, but you don’t need to see to know who brought you here. As hard as you tried, you were never able to push the angel completely out of your mind. The only thing you feel now is relief, your body’s shaking starting to slow.

“You don’t have to keep hiding in the dark,” your voice is a hoarse imitation of what it usually is, “I know you’re a terrible sight but I’m sure I’ll live.”

The sound in the dark takes you by surprise, warming your heart unexpectedly. You try to shove the feeling aside but doubt you’ll forget the sound of his little laugh any time soon.

A small lamp flickers to life, basking the room in a soft glow. The angel leans against the side wall, wings tucked tightly behind him. The shed seems too small for him and yet you doubt that’s the reason for the uneasy look in his blue eyes. If anything, you’d say he looks like he wants to retreat to the shadows.

“Thank you,” you begin, enjoying the way those two little words seem to ease the discomfort on his face, “I don’t want to imagine what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

He shrugs as if what he’d done wasn’t unimaginable in almost every way. Yet, somehow you knew that if he had shown up on your doorstep, half dead from a demon attack, you would have helped him. You can’t explain it. You almost want to ask if he could, but neither of you speak up, comforted by each other’s company.

You feel your body knit itself together, his opposing essence dampened by the weight of the dead around. You’re impressed by his thinking, knowing that a cemetery is the only place that neither of your energies will affect the other.

Unsure why, only knowing that it’s what you want, you speak up hoping to hear his voice, “I’m YN,” you say, impressed that your voice has already returned to normal.

He hesitates, and for a moment you’re not sure he’ll answer, “James. You can call me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you echo, testing it out on your lips. He shivers and you’re momentarily surprised that angels can feel cold, “how long will you be staying here…with me?”

His answer comes quickly, “until I know you’re well enough to return home.”

You try not to look into why his words make you so happy.

His lips spread into a sly grin and you can’t help but wonder if somehow he can read your mind until he says, “after all, I believe we’re tied one-one. We can’t have other angels ruin our fun.”

“Best two out of three?” you asked with a grin to match his.

“No,” he replies. You can’t help but feel disappointed, “I’d say we have far more time than a simple two out of three.”

You hold back a laugh only because of the pain it’ll cause in your stomach, “who knew you liked losing so much.”

“We’ll just have to see,” he pauses, “YN.”

You shiver, murmuring, “yes we will.”

You’re wandering aimlessly through the party when you see them. If they weren’t so massively out of place, you would have thought you were imagining them. James and another angel are arguing at the table not far from you, the partygoers giving them a wide birth. Even the humans can sense the animosity rolling off them in waves. You almost leave, but you’re close enough that you overhear them and what the other angel says catches your attention.

“If you come back now, brother, Father will be merciful,” the angel said.

“I’m not leaving,” James widens his stance, as if he’s anticipating a fight, “not after what I’ve done.”

The angel shakes his head with disgust, “demons have no soul, James. She will not forgive you, especially after what you did.”

“I don’t deserve to be forgiven, I’m only hoping for it. And if I have to walk the earth for as long as she did or longer and she never forgives me, then it will only be what I deserve,” he barks back.

“Brother, once I leave,” the angel warns, his voice deep, “know that the next time we see each other I will hunt you down.”

There’s no room for doubt in his threat. Angels are merciless, and the only reason the other angel doesn’t cut him down right away is because of their semblance of a friendship. They both understand that.

“If that’s what you think is right,” Bucky says.

He turns and leaves, the party-goers parting as if they can sense that he doesn’t belong in their midst.

The other angel stares after him, shakes his head and then vanishes into thin air. You’re still reeling, not sure you’ve overheard correctly, but pretty sure that Bucky has banished himself from heaven. It doesn’t erase what he’s done. You don’t want it to change anything. It shouldn’t change anything. And yet, the party is suddenly suffocating and you’re gasping for air. You look around, desperately searching for a way out. People flinch back and you can only imagine what you must look like. Even their fear is not enough to calm you down. You shove them aside, their growing anger and fear enough to keep your from stumbling, and somehow you push past the doors and make it outside.

You’re trembling, the cold air nipping at your sweaty body. Your fingers wrapped around the railing is the only thing keeping you upright. You hang your head between your shoulders, waiting for the spinning to pass. Only it doesn’t, sending you spiralling into the one memory you tried your hardest to lock away.

19th Century

You suck in a deep breath a smile. Who would have thought, out of all the centuries you had lived through so far, that the 19th century would be your favourite. You haven’t done a thing and the air is ripe with fear and paranoia, Wilde’s upcoming trial throwing London even further into a descent of panic and obsession. There’s only one other thing that would make your night perfect.

The familiar whoosh puts a grin on your face. You turn, about to ask him what took so long, but the look on his face steals the words from your mouth. Something is wrong. Your instincts scream at you to run away. You don’t understand why, because it’s just Bucky, but you stumble backward, your body moving on instinct.

He reaches out for you, pain written all over his face.

“Bucky?” you find yourself whispering, “what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t say anything, only shakes his head as if he can’t speak. You try to quash your fear and it works enough for you to stumble over to him. He catches you in his arms before you can fall, pulling you tightly to his chest. You want to ask him what’s wrong. You want to tease him about being an uptight angel, but he’s holding you like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear so you hold on even tighter. He buries his face in your neck and you almost miss it when he says, “I’m sorry.”

You feel the pain before you realize what’s happened, a deafening screech bursting from your mouth. It’s gone. Almost all your power is gone and you collapse to your knees, begging for air. Bucky stares down at you, his face impassive. You try to vanish but nothing happens. Fear rises up like bile. You scream once more but nothing happens. Bucky doesn’t move.

Two bracelets dangle on your wrists like handcuffs, locking you to this earth. You rip and pull , tearing at your own flesh to take them off, but you know it’s in vain. There’s nothing you can do to take them off.

“Bucky?” you choke, grasping for any kind of explanation.

Two angels appear at his side, staring down at you with disgust.

He tilts his head, nothing of the angel you know in his eyes, “it’s a sin for angels and demons to fraternize.”

You don’t even recognize his voice.

All you know is that he should have killed you instead. You lung for them, ready to rip them to shreds for what they’ve done, but you get kicked into the ground. Pain folds your newly weakened body in half and you gasp for air. You glare up at them with hatred, wishing for their deaths.

“This is your punishment,” he says, simply.

You curl up in a ball, tears stinging your eyes as you take the pain. You don’t know how you could have been so stupid — that he hated you so much he rather see you suffer. You want to kill him but he’s gone and your anger is leaving you just as quickly, until all your left with is an empty feeling you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to fill.

The doors burst open and you look up. Bucky stops, eyes widening when he realizes you’re here. He looks like he’s about to leave but takes a cautious step forward.

“Take another step and I don’t care how many witnesses there are…” you warn even though you know that without your full powers it isn’t a fair fight.

He lifts his hands and stops moving, eyes never leaving yours.

“Please,” he says softly, “I didn’t come to fight.”

You scoff, “I sure as hell owe you one.”

“I know. You do. But if you could just hear me out, then I’ll leave you alone,” he continues quickly, as if he’s sure you’ll be the one to vanish out of sight.

“I don’t need to hear you out,” but the conversation you overheard earlier makes you pause, “but you get thirty seconds. Go.”

He takes a step forward and points to the bracelets, “I’ve only come to take those off.”

Your heart skips a beat and you’re sure you didn’t hear him right. When you don’t move or say anything, he continues on.

“When the other angels found out about us, they ordered me to kill you. I couldn’t do it, YN. I couldn’t. I tricked them into believing that a life trapped on earth would be worse than death because I was too selfish to let you go and I thought,” he sucks in a sharp breath, “and I thought that somehow I could find a way to keep seeing you. But I’d never gotten a chance to tell you what I was planing — or to ask you what you wanted — and I knew you wouldn’t want to see me so all this time, I stayed away. I can’t let you live like this anymore, YN. If I do this now, you should be safe enough to return to your home without incident. Please, let me do this for you.”

There was no mention of the fact that he’d exiled himself to do this or that he wanted something in return for his actions, and that’s the reason you nod. It isn’t understanding, although now that you know why he had betrayed you, your anger doesn’t feel quite as raw, but something strangely like acceptance. You don’t trust yourself to speak though.

His steps are tentative as he closes the distance between you, blue eyes full of sorrow, missing the thing you could have been if only you’d been a little more careful. He stops a foot away and looks into your eyes, asking for permission. You extend your hands.

You stare up at him, feeling his calloused fingers slide gently around your wrist as he works the magic on the cuffs. HIs brows are furrowed in concentration and the longer he works at it, the more he pales. You suddenly get the feeling that these were never meant to come off and the thought fills you with more anger and some other emotion you can’t quite name.

They clatter to the floor. The weight lifts from your chest and for the first time in centuries you can breath easily again. You don’t realize you’re smiling until a small one appears on Bucky’s face

“I still hate you,” you murmur.

He dips his head slightly, “I know.”

You try to ignore the feeling of centuries of crushing yourself into his arms that comes rushing back at you, and cup his cheek instead, “maybe one day, I’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t deserve it,” he closes his eyes and leans in to your touch, “but I will be on earth, waiting if ever you do.”

And then you vanish back to hell.

#bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky fanfiction

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fandomfanfics12 · 5 years ago

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Home Lives With You-Part 4

Title: Home Lives With You. Pairings: Steve x Tony Part: 4/? Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst, blood, abuse (physical and verbal), ptsd, anxiety, bullying Summary: Peter’s been living with the abusive Thompson family for years, it was the only family in the system that would take him. When Steve and Tony get a phone call from the social worker who introduced them to their daughter Morgan for an emergency placement, they feel like they must pay back the favor. But are Steve and Tony taking on more than they can handle, and will Peter be able to adjust to a warm and welcoming family home? A/N: kinda long, next part should be out some time in the next couple of days, hope you enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Steve wanted to pretend that he was calm, that everything was fine. But as he carried Peter’s body to the bed in the ER, his heart was pounding in his chest and Peter was trembling in his arms.

“I’m sorry, just take me home, I’m fine, I’m sorry.” He sobbed as a nurse pointed Steve to the bed. Steve had placed him down gently, Peter was uncontrollably shaking.

“A doctor will be with you shortly.” A nurse had said and drawn a curtain around them, blocking off Steve’s view from anything other than Peter.

“it’s alright kiddo, we’re going to get you checked out and you’ll be alright.” Steve stepped forward to take Peter’s hand but the kid grabbed his shirt, balling his fist in it.

“I’m really fine, please can we just go back to your house sir? Please?” his voice was so high pitched and broken that it brought tears to Steve’s eyes. He placed his hand over Peter’s balled his and squeezed it gently.

“We’re going to get you checked out and you’re going to be just fine, alright?” as if on cue, the curtain pulled back so a man could step through and then it was shut again.

“Sorry for the wait, I’m doctor Banner.” He smiled and Peter whimpered, shaking like a leaf.

“I-I’m Peter.” He stuttered and Doctor Banner nodded, not even looking remotely phased by Peter’s terror.

“It’s nice to meet you Peter, what seems to be the problem?” Peter nervously glanced to Steve and then let go of Steve’s shirt, his hand slipped through Steve’s like water. And then Peter lifted his shirt up and over his head, a gasp fell out of Steve’s mouth.

Cuts and bruises covered Peter’s torso, the angry red gash stood out like a sore thumb and when Peter rolled onto his side so doctor Banner could properly examine the gash, there were welts on Peter’s back. Doctor Banner was frowning and looked at Steve, judgement in his eyes.

“I’m his foster parent, my husband and I only received the call for Peter’s emergency placement a couple of days ago.”

“I’m assuming this was the incident that caused the emergency placement?” Doctor Banner asked and Steve nodded.

“I guess so.” But doctor Banner wasn’t listening to Steve anymore, his attention back on the yellowish greenish gash.

“Who stitched this up?” he asked, lightly pressing around the area as pus oozed out of the wound. Doctor Banner was smiling, as if that would comfort them and make this alright, as if that would be comforting.

“I did.” Peter mumbled and Steve inhaled sharply.

“And it was your old foster parents that did this to you?” Peter nodded his head, his lip wobbling as Banner’s hands moved closer to the gash. Instinctively Steve stepped forward, taking Peter’s hand and Peter began squeezing it immediately. Banner glanced at Steve and Steve saw the concern in his eyes, the nerves.

“I need to take the stitches out, disinfect the wound and then stitch it back up again. I’m about to go get another nurse to assist me in this process but I’d like to keep Peter in until tomorrow as I’m worried about sepsis.” Steve nodded, looking at Peter’s face which had scrunched up from the pain.

“My husband and I have healthcare, just do whatever you can to help him.” Steve said, looking back up at Banner who looked relieved.

“Okay, I’ll go get the nurse.” Doctor Banner stepped out of their little space and Steve began to stroke Peter’s hair with his free hand.

“it’s going to be alright Peter, I’m going to take care of you.” he promised but Peter was shaking his head.

“Hospitals are expensive, I’m not worth it.” he sobbed and Steve shook his head, more tears welled up in his eyes.

“It’s going to be alright Pete, the doctors are going to take care of you.” Steve promised and Peter nodded, his bottom lip wobbling.

“I’m scared.” He whispered and Steve bent down, kissing the top of Peter’s head.

“You’re going to be alright.” Steve promised and then Doctor Banner was back with a nurse.

“Alright Peter can you give me your arm? You’re going to feel a little pinch but it’s going to help with the pain.” Steve sat down on the bed and Peter curled into him, flinching as the nurse inserted the needle.

“It’s alright Peter, I’m right here, you’re going to be just fine.” Steve promised and not a heartbeat later did Doctor Banner start to take out the stitches, and Peter’s screams filled the ER.

As soon as they had left Morgan had come downstairs, eyes big and red and puffy.

“Daddy?” she asked and Tony whirled around to find her standing behind him.

“Princess what’s wrong?” he asked, scooping her up into his arms.

“I had a nightmare, where’s Peter?” her bottom lip wobbled and Tony began to rub soothing circles between her shoulder blades as he led her back upstairs.

“He’s not feeling well baby, so dad took him to the hospital.” At that, tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“I thought I heard him screaming.” Morgan’s lip wobbled and Tony nodded his head, not wanting to lie to her.

“Yeah baby, but Dad’s going to take care of him alright? He’ll be home before you know it.” Tony’s mind flashed back to the gash in Peter’s side, how he had yelped when Tony had touched him.

“promise?”

“I’ll even pinkie promise.” Tony held out his finger and she curled her own around it, looking instantly relieved as she did so.

“Can we go see him in the hospital tomorrow?” she asked and Tony nodded.

“Sure thing princess, but only if you go to sleep now.” she nodded her head, smiling.

“And can we get him a teddy?” tony nodded, although he wasn’t sure how much Peter would appreciate a stuffed doll. But nevertheless, Tony stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, her eyes drifting shut as Tony exited the room. But as he went downstairs, the nerves only rattled through him. He wished he could be comforted by a simple pinkie promise, but that wasn’t the case. Tony took a deep breath and then he started cleaning. First it was just cleaning up a few cups and plates that Steve had left around the house, then it was wiping down the countertops, then scrubbing the toilets, followed by cleaning the sinks, followed by going through the fridge for any outdated food and then Tony decided to put on a load of washing.

Eventually the exhaustion weighed down on Peter and he drifted off to sleep. A nurse had tried to tell Steve to go home, come back in the morning, but Steve refused to leave Peter alone. They’d taken him away for thirty minutes to do an x-ray when Peter’s drug induced state had admitted that he thought he had some broken ribs. Three to be exact. According to doctor Banner, the welts on his back would have been from being whipped by a belt. Steve had felt nauseous at that point. How could anyone have ever done this to Peter? When the nurse came to check the gash in Peter’s side, Steve went to the cafeteria to go get himself a cup of coffee. That’s when he called Rhodey.

“Steve?” Rhodey’s voice was groggy, Steve must have woken him up.

“Hey Rhodey, I’m at the hospital with Peter. I want to know what the fuck happened when he was staying with the Thompson’s.” at that, Rhodey sighed.

“Why are you at the hospital?” Steve squeezed his eyes shut, he had dreaded making this phone call.

“there’s a gash in his side that’s gotten infected. The kid has three broken ribs and these welts and-“

“Steve I’m going to ask you to please calm down.” Calm down? Was Rhodey serious? How the hell was Steve supposed to calm down after seeing how badly Peter had been injured?

“it’s bad Rhodey. I want the Thompson’s in prison for what they’ve done.” Steve snarled and Rhodey sighed.

“There’s already an investigation in place. And while I know it’s not your fault, this could put a delay in the adoption papers.” Dammit. Steve clenched his jaw and took several deep breaths.

“can we at the very least extend his stay with us?” Steve asked as calmly as he could manage.

“I’ll look into it. I’ll come by the hospital tomorrow alright? We can talk about this then.” And then Rhodey hung up, Steve slammed his fist into the wall, frustration and anger burning inside of him. Why was everyone acting so calm about this? why weren’t they taking this seriously? Steve shook out his hand and called Tony, heart racing and tears in his eyes.

It was 3:17 when Steve finally rang. Tony answered on the second ring, glad to finally have something to do with himself. Glad to finally know what was going on.

“How is he?” and then he heard Steve’s shuddering breath.

“he’s asleep right now. the doctors want to keep him here for observation, they’re worried about sepsis?” Steve swore and Tony began to pace, his stomach twisted and churned.

“it’s bad isn’t it?” Tony asked, sitting down to prepare himself.

“he has three broken ribs, and he’s covered in cuts and bruises and the doctors think he was whipped with a belt and he had to stitch up that gash up himself.” Steve’s voice broke on the last word and Tony inhaled sharply. He was glad that Steve had been the one to take Peter to the hospital, Tony wasn’t sure he’d have been able to be strong for Peter when hearing and seeing those things. At least now he could prepare himself for having to see that.

“Are you okay?” Tony asked, tears in his eyes. He hated it when Steve cried, Steve only ever cried if something was truly awful, if something was truly sad.

“I just wish you were here.”

“sweetheart.” Tony breathed and Steve inhaled sharply. He wished he could be there too.

“I called Rhodey too, he said this could put a delay on the adoption.” Steve admitted and Tony nodded, he’d figured as much.

“as soon as Morgan is awake we’ll come to the hospital.” Tony promised although it didn’t make him feel any better.

“Okay, get some sleep honey.” Steve said and sounded better, but Tony just felt worse.

“I’ll try. I love you.”

“love you too.” Tony hung up and sat back on the couch, mind reeling. And then Tony got to his feet, heading to his office where his laptop was waiting. He opened up and started digging.

Peter woke up to find he was completely alone. Even through the pain killers, his side ached and throbbed. Slowly he sat up, looking around but there was nothing familiar. He’d known it was stupid, but he’d hoped Steve would stick around. He’d probably call Rhodey, asking for Peter to be gone. Peter was just starting to fully realise that he’d have to go back to the Thompson’s when Steve came back, coffee in hand.

“You’re still here sir?” Peter mumbled and Steve’s eyes widened.

“Of course I’m still here, how do you feel?” he sat down in the visitor’s chair, a tentative smile upon his face.

“sore sir.” Peter admitted and Steve nodded. He took a sip of his coffee and the silence filled the room, stretching out and suffocating the both of them.

“Peter I’m going to ask you some questions and I’d like it if you answered them honestly.” Steve said at long last and Peter nodded.

“okay sir.”

“Were the Thompson’s abusive to you?” Peter looked away, his groggy mind unsure of how to say it.

“Mr Thompson hit me sometimes.” He admitted and Steve nodded.

“I thought so, and what about mrs Thompson?” you are nothing more than a worthless piece of shit!

“Not physically sir.”

“Was Mr Thompson the one who did this to you?” at that, Peter’s bottom lip wobbled.

“Yeah, but I dropped a plate and I should have been more careful, I shouldn’t have been so careless.” Peter whispered and Steve frowned.

“Mr Thompson did all this to you because you dropped a plate?” Peter nodded, fear curdling his insides.

“it was my fault sir.” Peter whispered and Steve clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath. He’s worried that I’m going to drop one of his plates. Peter thought and wondered if perhaps that would be the last straw.

“Tony and Morgan are going to come by in the morning alright? Get some rest kiddo.” Peter nodded, settling into the bed. Because he finally had an excuse to sleep in a bed and not on the floor.

Dear Mrs White…

My name is Tony Stark-Rogers and I would like to join the lovely establishment known as Midtown High’s PTA. My husband and I recently took in our son and will be adopting him very soon and I would love to get involved any way I can. I heard there was a bake sale next Sunday and was hoping I could participate?

Kind regards,

Tony Stark-Rogers.

Tony grinned at the email as it sent through, plans for how he would destroy Rose Thompson. They wouldn’t be able to refuse him, and soon enough Tony would expose the Thompson’s, effectively seeking revenge.

Steve was sitting with Peter, trying to tell him about a tv show that he wanted to Peter to watch when the door opened and a small eight year old launched herself onto the bed.

“Peter!” she cried, wrapping her tiny arms around Peter’s torso, Peter only winced slightly.

“hey miss.” He smiled and she returned it, all toothy and giddy.

“Daddy said you weren’t feeling well?” she asked and Peter nodded, Steve just looked to Tony who seemed to be in shock a little. There was an assortment of wires, going into and coming out of Peter’s body. It was a little unnerving.

“I’m feeling better now that you’re here miss.” She nodded and pulled back, turning to Tony and holding out her tiny hands. He revealed a bag that he had concealed behind him and handed it to her.

“Daddy and I got this for you.” she thrust the bag forth and Peter’s eyes widened and he nervously looked to Tony.

“Thank you sir, but I can’t accept this.” at that, Tony crossed his arms.

“Non-refundable I’m afraid.” He shrugged and Peter looked down at the bag, Morgan frowning.

“Aren’t you going to open your present?” she asked and Peter nodded, tears shining in his eyes as he took the little brown paper bag from her. Inside was a plush fluffy elephant and Peter inhaled sharply.

“It’s perfect miss.” Morgan grinned and clapped, practically jumping up and down.

“Easy princess.” Steve reminded her and she nodded, Peter looked back down at the toy and then glanced back up at her.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” he whispered and she giggled, Tony stepped closer and Steve wrapped an arm around him.

“Boy!” she shrieked like it was the most obvious thing in the whole entire world.

“And what’s his name?” Peter asked conspiratorially like he and Morgan were executing a top secret mission rather than in a hospital room. There was a soft smile on Peter’s face and Steve was overwhelmed with compassion for the kid who was so good with their daughter.

“Benjamin, but we call him Benny.” She decided and Peter’s smile widened.

“I had an uncle called Ben once.” Peter admitted and she frowned.

“can we show this to him?” the smile faded and Peter shook his head. Steve’s stomach curdled, he didn’t like where this was going.

“No miss, my uncle is in a very faraway place.” Peter told her and Tony inhaled sharply beside him.

“Oh, can we go visit him?” she asked and Peter shook his head.

“I’m afraid not. But that’s okay because I’ve got you miss.” Morgan nodded and then moved on to talk about the pancakes that Tony had bought her for breakfast.

“we’re just going to step outside and fill out some forms, can you watch Morgan?” Steve asked and Peter nodded his head, not taking his eyes off of Morgan as she started rambling on. Tony and Steve stepped outside and Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s body. Despite the fact that Steve was bigger, he practically collapsed into Tony.

“Thank god you’re here.” He whispered and Tony nodded, rubbing his hands on Steve’s back.

“It’s alright sweetheart, you did good.” Steve nodded, glad to be held by his husband. Glad to have a husband to hold him.

“I just couldn’t believe that someone was capable of doing those things, especially to a child. And the worst part about all of this,” Steve stepped back, rubbing his eyes to stop the tears from shedding. “it was all over a plate.” Tony blinked, confusion written over his face.

“a plate?”

“Peter dropped a plate and that’s why this happened. It was all over a fucking plate.” Tony’s brows rose and Steve saw the anger that burned in those eyes.

“We’ll make them pay for this.” Tony promised and Steve nodded and then he shook his head.

“Rhodey said there was already an investigation, there’s nothing we can do. We shouldn’t get involved.” Tony just stepped back and scratched the back of his head, a smile spreading upon his lips.

“what did you do?” Steve asked and Tony raised his hands in defence.

“I didn’t do anything. Not yet at least.”

“It’s going to stay that way, we shouldn’t get involved.” Tony looked down and nodded.

“you’re right, we shouldn’t.”

Just because Steve said they shouldn’t didn’t mean they wouldn’t. Susan White had emailed him back earlier this morning saying she’d be delighted to have another additional parent to the PTA. The plan was already in motion and hearing that Peter had been subject to this torture over a plate only solidified Tony’s hatred for the Thompson’s even more. He was going to get revenge, and he’d show no mercy for those assholes

It was Sunday evening and Peter was finally allowed to come home. Steve had stayed with him all weekend, he went home to shower once. Peter had begged him to go home at night and sleep in his own bed but Steve had insisted on staying. That just made Peter feel guilty. Even now, sitting in the front seat of the car, he wanted to apologise.

“I’m sorry about the hospital bills. I’ll get a job and pay you back sir, I promise.” Peter said as the car pulled into the driveway.

“Pete relax, you don’t owe us anything.” But he did, more than he’d ever be able to repay them. First thing would be Morgan’s present. He clung to the elephant now, it was possibly the softest thing he’d ever held, and the first present he’d ever received.

“but I do, you and Mr Stark Rogers have done so much for me already and-“

“and we were more than happy to pay for it, now let’s get you inside okay?” Steve got out of the car before Peter could argue the point more. But the use of the word were snagged in Peter’s mind. Past tense. Peter got out of the car and made his way to the front door, it was almost eight o’clock but the sun was only just starting to set. Summer vacation would start soon and Peter wished he could stay here with the Stark Rogers.

Were.

This was a bad sign, Peter recognised these things, was used to being told that people didn’t want him anymore. He’d always known his time here was limited, he was only meant to stay here for a month, but were they really going to kick him out already? Were they really about to ship him off to the next family when Peter hadn’t even been there a full week? And if they were shipping him off, what would the next family be like? What if they were as bad as the Thompson’s had been? What would Peter do then?

“Honey we’re home!” Steve called as he opened the front door, Tony entered the hallway and smiled.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked and Peter’s stomach twisted and churned.

“Better, thank you sir.” Tony nodded and his eyes shifted from Peter to Steve.

“Peter we’d like to talk.”

@smallnjh @picklepotatoe14 @thatisamericasass @briebriebrieee @aftereveryraincomessunshine

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tuckerm88 · 4 years ago

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Mid-Millennium Inception : Chapter 1

Charlotte, NC USA October 2, 2019

“Mom…. Mawmaw…… I’ll be fine,” you say while unloading the car. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, the slightest annoyance hidden in your voice, while a caring smirk forms on your face.

You, a short slightly thick brunette, rolls her luggage into the airport. Wearing your favorite worn black low top converses, black Adidas track pants, oversized light purple hoodie and black baseball cap that says coffee. Right before parting ways, your mom starts to cry. Your grandmother, one of the strongest people you know, looks at you with glassy eyes but not a tear drops, at least not in front of you.

“Guys, why are you looking at me like that? Do you want me to stay here forever with you?” you laugh while you hug your mom first. “No and yes,” she chuckles, “I know, I’m just going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too. Both of you. But I’ve put this off too long.”

“I know, just be careful. Okay!! You’re my only baby,” You look at your grandmother now, instead of tears you see exasperation in her eyes towards her only daughter being dramatic.

After your last farewells, you head to your gate to wait for boarding…

. . . . . . . . . . .

Seoul, South Korea

Twenty two hours later and with the worst sinus headache ever, you’re finally off the plane. After collecting your luggage, you head to the exit to meet the driver. The airport isn’t that crowded today, thank god. As you come out, you see your name on a piece of cardboard and wave at the driver. “Hello” you both greet each other.

This is your first time out of the country. You know the language from self-studying, but that’s it. You know no one here….. AT ALL!! But that doesn’t scare you as much as never leaving your small town. Finally, after years of slaving and being patient, you are in Korea. There’s been some bumps in the road, but that never stopped you. You started to become interested in Korean food when you worked at a Japanese/Korean fusion restaurant. You found a company, in Korea, who’s willing to take you in and teach you.

You’re heading to Gangnam, to the restaurant and where you’ll be staying. Dropped off in front of Kim’s Village, an eight story tall apartment building, you meet an assiduous looking man. He looks to be in his forties. “Hello, Genevieve Ainsley, correct? I’m Mr. Lee,” he bows.

“Yes sir. Hello Mr. Lee, it’s nice to meet you. You can call me Eve though for short,” you smile.

“Of course. I’m here to help you get settled into your new place and answer any questions you may have and also make sure all paperwork gets handled correctly. So let me help you with your luggage and head up.” He grabs the two large suitcases, rolling them around and heads inside after pressing the code. As Eve walks in with her carry-on and back-pack, she looks around the start of a small corridor that leads through the other side of the building. There is the first floor of apartments, which is about 6 in total it seems, mailboxes and 2 sets of stairs, one on each side of the building.

Mr. Lee lifts the two suitcases up to take up the stairs. “Oh,.. Mr. Lee, wait! What floor are we going to? Give me one of those or at least let me help,” Eve pleads as she goes to grab one of the cases. But he’s already going up the stairs, carrying them like they weigh nothing and not full of clothes and small kitchenware.

“We are heading to the 8th floor. There is only one apartment available right now for you to be housed in,” he explains, no strain in his voice as he carries over a hundred pounds up the staircase. You stand there gawking for a second.

At the top, you’re huffing a little. You’re not fat per say, curvy with some small love handles, but you aren’t that fit either. Maybe I should start working out, you think to yourself, while Mr. Lee is standing there with not even a drop of sweat or alteration in his breathing. Damn he’s fitter than I thought he’d be. I need to figure out his routine.

There’s a door right in front of the stairway with the number 802 on it. With the way Mr. Lee is standing in front of it, Eve assumes it’s her new place. He starts to open the door, but gets a call and answers it first. “Yes Mr. Kim,” he answers. . Kim Kwanjoon, CEO of KJ Inc., owns multiple buildings and businesses in almost every industry, including the restaurant that you’ll be working at. They talk for a few minutes and hang up.

“Mrs. Ainsley,” he voices, while opening the door to the apartment, “there seems to be a problem at the restaurant. As you know the chef isn’t back until Monday, which is when you are supposed to start. But our sous chef called in just now. So we actually need you to come in tonight. We seem to be short staffed. Is that a problem for you?” He takes his shoes off at the entry.

“Of course not. I’ll try to help as much as I can,” slightly exasperated. Hopefully he didn’t hear that.

“I’ll let them know. I can’t stay now, because I need to go to the restaurant. Can you be there in the next 2 hours? The restaurant is only two blocks away from this apartment, so it’ll not take long to get there.”

“Yes sir, I can do that.” He brings your luggage into the living room and hands you a packet of information.

“I apologize I can’t go over this with you right now. I’ll come back tomorrow to explain more. The first page is things you will need today,” he opens it to show you quickly, “If you’ve any questions call me, my card with my number is at the top. Do you have a cell phone?”

“Yes, I got a temporary at the airport, until I receive my registration card.”

“I’m impressed. Most foreigners don’t think of those things when they come to work here,” looking at his watch. “Be there by 4pm, the front door and I’ll let you in.”

“Yes sir”

“Goodbye Mrs. Ainsley. I’ll see you a couple hours.”

“Goodbye Mr. Lee”

You stand in the living room, staring at the door for a few minutes. Dazed with what’s happening. OMG!?! I thought I’d have time to rest and unpack today and this weekend. My head is still killing me, I slept like 2 hours on the plane. What am I going to do? You look at your phone and see its 2:23 and then start to move. You roll your largest suitcase down the short hall to the bedroom at the end. No time to really look around, you get the things you need out and pop 2 pills for your headache. And then head back to the bathroom.

After a steaming hot 30 min shower, to hopefully get rid of your headache and get the 24 hours of plane grime off of you, you get ready for work. Black non-slip kitchen Vanes with white soles, light gray cargo chef jogger pants, black tank top with a dark purple chef jacket (Eve’s favorite) over top, hair parted on the right with tapered side bangs in a tight bun in the back. With minimal makeup applied, you double, triple check you have everything. Grab a light jacket and walk out the door at 3:30 with knife kit in hand.

You’re standing at the front already when Mr. Lee walks up. “Early. Great.” You bow to greet him. He takes you straight to the kitchen, since it's Friday afternoon. The décor of the restaurant is very upscale café style with a Korean architectural influence to it. There are three floors to it, the top floor being outside seating. With no time to really chat, he shows you around. The kitchen is very well organized and clean. With the dish pit to your right and the start of the server station to your left, the kitchen has a U shape to it, with in and out doors for the servers. If you keep walking straight from the IN door, you will have the dish pit along the right wall with the clean dishes at the end, then storage and the back exit. To the left is the space for servers to walk and grab food to go out the other side and the hot line. On the left wall, on the other side of the OUT door, is the cold station.

Everyone is getting ready for the busy Friday night. He takes you to the first station you will be working at, the hot station. Being familiar with grills and stove, he put you there first to observe and help. “Hello, I’m Youngjae,” a new face gushed.

“I’m Eve. It’s nice to meet you,” you reply. He goes over the station with you and some of the dishes. After a while, orders start to come. You watch for a little, but then Youngjae starts to get overwhelmed. Your instincts kick in, just by watching him you’ve picked most of the dishes. You start to help him out.

When it comes to cooking and creating dishes, you could say you’re otherworldly. It’s like magic comes out of your hands. You picked up on cooking quickly in school and in the industry. You remember everything that you’ve learned, like the back of your hand. But you still don’t consider yourself that great. You’ve had limited chances to explore different foods, so you don’t consider your skills impeccable.

Youngjae is impressed though, “Wow, Eve. You catch on quick. How long have you been cooking?”

“I’ve been cooking for about 10 years.”

“Seriously. You are only a cook. Shouldn’t you be a chef?”

“I was a sous chef back home but I want to be a master chef. So I need to learn different cuisines and I wanted to travel, so here I am,” you beam shyly towards him.

“You must have started young. You look younger than me.” He laughs.

And there it is, your first insecurity. You don’t look it, but you’re 30 years old. Everyone usually thinks you’re anywhere between 22 and 26. But you keep your mouth shut. You started late on your dream, not realizing it until you were already in college for 3 years. You had to start over pretty much and go to culinary school for another 3 years. During all that, you worked 2 jobs and also helped support your family. While in college your dad became a drunk and quit his job, killing himself slowly. You knew why, but also couldn’t accept why he was doing this. Especially since he taught you to be stronger than that. Why couldn’t he? Finely he did die. You were sad, of course. You were a daddy’s girl until he changed. But you were also relieved. Because you felt it was holding you back. You couldn’t leave your mom and mawmaw to deal with him. So after a few years, you finally stabilized the financial situation with your mom and yourself, almost going into extreme debt because of your dad (and yourself trying to cope with all of it – online shopping).

Now here you are. Living the dream you never gave up on. Pushing the little insecurity down, you and Youngjae keep talking when able. Finding out he’s like third in command, the Lead Line Cook. He is 26, blonde hair, blue eyes with the help of contacts and a head taller than you, with a lanky build. While talking to one of the dishwashers comes along to put clean dishes away and take dirty ones to the pit. He comes up to talk to Youngjae.

“Hey man, what’s up? Who’s the new girl?” The dark chestnut haired boy says. He looks young with his dark brown doe eyes with flakes of gold, bright with curiosity. With his bunny smile, his cheeks bunched up and out to make cute crinkles at the sides of his eyes. He looks even younger and innocent now.

“Oh!!! Hello, I’m Genevieve, but you can call me Eve.”

“Cool, I’m Jungkook.”

They go through normal pleasantries. Jungkook is 22 and wants to work in the restaurant industry. He is starting as a dishwasher and working his way up.

The night finally ends and cleaning is almost over. You and Jungkook have become fast friends in just one day. All the boys in the kitchen have come to like you. They even ask if you want to come out for drinks that night. You would love to, but you are just too exhausted. They understand and say maybe next time.

Everyone grabs their things and heads out the door. You start walking towards your new apartment. The guys head the same direction and talk with you on the way. Jungkook waits a little to make sure you get into the building before following the rest.

You get inside, shower and finally relax in the bed. You thought this was going to be a bad day, but actually turned out decent.

. . . . . . . . . . .

On top of Building 63, with the lit city underneath. He stands on the edge looking out at the beautiful place that has grown so much.

“Hello, Hyung. I was wondering when you would show up.” Taemin spouts.

“When did you finally get back?” Kia asks.

“I just returned today. I figured it was time to come back and stay this time.”

“Father will be happy to hear that.”

“I’m sure he will.” Taemin says with indifference in his voice.

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vanchlo · 5 years ago

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The Assistant / Chapter Twenty Four, “Never Again”

* FIND OLD CHAPTERS HEEEEEERE! *

Warnings: Mentions of blood and physical assault

Music Inspo: Goodbye To You by Michelle Branch (click to listen)

“His name leaves my lips in a breathy whisper, almost a question. But he doesn’t reply. And I don’t know what to say. I never thought this day would come. I hoped for it and I dreamt of it and I longed for it. But I never thought that he’d learn the truth, and not like this. I didn’t think that it would feel like this.

Disgusting. Heart-wrenching. Regrettable. Stinging. I wanted more than anything for him to know, but not like this. Never.

“‘m so so sorry,” he sobs from below me. I feel his body shudder under my fingers.

Suddenly, the moisture leaves my throat and detours to my eyes. I gulp hard and wonder what words I could get out if I even knew what to say. Is it okay? It’s not, but what he just did for me surpasses that entirely.”

“These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.”

- Shakespeare

“Becks!”

I can’t tell what hurts me worse. The licks of fire spreading on my face, or the look I see on his.

Harry.

Wait, is he really here or am I imagining it? I wonder to myself as the world in front of me starts to spin.

I don’t have much time to think about that, because I feel something warm trickling down my chin. I watch as it slowly falls off my skin like a cliff and plummets to the floor. A shiny scarlet drop embeds itself in his floor, and all I can think of is how badly that will stain. In a flash, it’s covered up by something else shiny - a black leather boot.

Then a leg in flowy black slacks.

A torso in a satin mustard button down.

Black ink scattered over skin.

I don’t see his face until it pops into view, his body bending to look up at me.

“Becks, are you okay? Oh god, yer really bleedin’,” he panics, the words dipped in sugar rushing out of his mouth. I almost don’t feel the fiery pain stinging my face or the warmth on my chin. The worry and hurt consuming his face make it all feel like a dull afterthought in comparison.

I can’t tell who’s in more pain - him or me.

I watch in disbelief as his thumb brushes the skin next to my nose and I wince at the tenderness. Okay, so that answers my question of if he’s real or just a figment of my imagination, I conclude inside of my head. He gives my arm a squeeze with an audible ‘sorry’ and places a tissue in my hand.

“S-she hit me first!”

Oh great, I was hoping to continue to forget the fact that she’s still here.

The disgust lacing itself into Harry’s features tells me that I’m not the only one thinking that.

“Ya can’t do anythin’ but lie, can you?” Harry retorts, slowly turning around to face her. His girlfriend.

“I’m not l-lying,” she sputters, redness filling her cheeks. An alligator tear spills onto her cheek, and Harry huffs.

“Ya just showed me that ya’ve been lyin’ t’ me fer months, Amber, maybe even longer!” Harry yells, his voice carrying around the room. It makes me remember the pounding inside my skull.

I wince and readjust the tissue under my nose, wondering how much blood you can lose from a nosebleed. My footing becomes unstable and I step forward, running right into Harry’s back. He turns to look at me and his bewildered expression softens as I grab hold of his shirt to anchor myself.

“You okay?” Harry murmurs, turning again to face me. He cups my arm and squeezes it gently.

I answer his question with a nod and feel his hand rub up and down in my arm in response.

“Why don’t you believe me, Harry?!”

“‘Cuz I believed ya dis whole bloody time, Amber, and look wha’s happened!” he exclaims, turning around, throwing his hands up and letting them fall with a sigh. “Ya lied t’ me ‘bout everything! Our relationship, who you were textin’ all those times when ya said it was yer friends, where ya were those nights ya didn’ come home ‘til 3 in tha bloody morning! Ya lied ‘bout Becks, Amber! Ya fooked with her work, harassed her, ya fookin’ assaulted her not jus’ once but twice! She’s my assistant, o-one of my best friends, an’ you hurt her again and again! I gave up so bleedin’ much fer ya. I cancelled plans with friends, with Becks, to make time fer ya, and tha whole time ya were fookin’ another bloke behind me back. Maybe even more, who knows, ya probably coulda gotta ‘round to fookin’ all o’ London in our time togetha . . ,” he trails off.

I didn’t think it was possible to feel my heart break any further today. It does when he’s facing me again and I see the first tear paint his cheek. Then another, and another.

The pain worsens when he looks to me and his cherry lips part for his syrupy voice, “C’mere, ya should sit down, Becks,” Harry coos, flipping the switch to return to himself. Soft and sweeter than he’s ever been before. And selfless.

He guides me over to the couch we’ve played Scrabble on more times than I could count. He doesn’t turn around after he helps me sit down, but instead kneels in front of me.

“Harry, I-I’m sorry-.”

“No, yer not bloody sorry. I don’ believe that fer a second . . . . Now leave,” Harry retorts, cutting her off. He looks up at me as his hand brushes against my cheek, tucking my bangs behind my ear.

“I want to fix this, Harry,” Amber continues with a sob, possible regret, and apology in her voice. I’ve never heard it before, so it’s hard to place it and its authenticity.

“Ya can’t, Amb, ya ruined it- ya ruined everything. Ya know that. I loved you once, ya know, a-and . . . ‘s gone. It has been fer awhile,” Harry mumbles, tears flooding his eyes that only I can see. “W-we’re done . . Leave . . ,” he says, emotion consuming his voice. His adam’s apple bobs with a swallow. New tears paint his cheeks as the walls shake with a slam of the door.

His chocolate curls are rearranged with his hand as he looks to stare at the floor. I hear him whimper. I lift my hand and place it on his knee that remains up. It wavers there for a second before it takes a daring risk, and does what I’ve always dreamt. His locks feel like butter between my fingers as I push them back, and catch his stubbly cheek with my thumb. I feel the warm wet tear under its pad and anticipate seeing several more if he were to look up.

But he doesn’t.

His name leaves my lips in a breathy whisper, almost a question. But he doesn’t reply. And I don’t know what to say. I never thought this day would come. I hoped for it and I dreamt of it and I longed for it. But I never thought that he’d learn the truth, and not like this. I didn’t think that it would feel like this. Disgusting. Heart-wrenching. Regrettable. Stinging. I wanted more than anything for him to know, but not like this. Never.

“‘m so so sorry,” he sobs from below me. I feel his body shudder under my fingers.

Suddenly, the moisture leaves my throat and detours to my eyes. I gulp hard, and wonder what words I could get out, if I even knew what to say. Is it okay? It’s not, but what he just did for me surpasses that entirely.

“It’s not your fault,” I say shakily, combing my fingers through his shiny curls, back and forth.

“It feels like it,” he sniffles, both hands grabbing his hair and pulling it.

“Harry, stop, you can’t change what happened. Please,” I urge him, trying to pry his hands from his precious head of hair. It takes a few tries, but suddenly he relents with a loaded sigh.

I sit there as the seconds tick by, still holding the tissue to my nose. Head throbbing. Cheek throbbing. Nose throbbing. And my heart. Before I know what I’m doing, my fingers are wrapping around his bicep and pulling him towards me. Or trying to.

“Come here,” I coo, tugging and tugging until I succeed.

It’s an earned feat when I finally pull him up off of his feet, and I wonder if I’ll regret it when suddenly all of his weight is on top of me. But when those arms go around me and his warm face is tucked into my neck, I know that I never could. And I can’t decide if it makes all of this harder, or easier.

“‘m so so sorry, Becks, ya have no idea how sorry I am. If only I had believed ya when ya told me, all o’ this coulda been stopped. I dunno how ‘ll ever forgive myself. I shoulda believed ya and I dunno why I couldn’. I’m a terrible person and ‘m just so sorry, Becks. I-.”

“Harry, stop. It’s over. She’s gone, and I’m okay,” I interrupt his rambling, and lose my words. His hot breaths into my neck are distracting, and so are his fingers drawing circles on my back.

“But yer hurt, and I coulda stopped it, Becks.”

“And you did, Harry! You did stop it. Y-you stopped anything more happening, and I am so grateful,” I share, raking my fingers up and down his back.

My fingers fall from their sudden familiarity and find his shirt in my hands. It feels as if cement is being poured into my heart as his weight leaves me and I look into his tear-stricken eyes.

“Ya are?” he grumbles, another tear falling with his blink.

“Yes, of course,” I reply, feeling my effort failing at the last syllable. “You came in and saved me when nobody else could, Harry. You stopped it. You stopped her from hurting me anymore,” I confess with tears weighing down every word.

His tears mirror mine diving onto my skin, and now he’s pulling me into him. And there’s nothing I’d ever do to stop it.

“Becks.” My name leaves his lips in a struggled whisper, anointed by a hiccup. The letters making up my name settle into my hair followed by his lips kissing the crown of my head.

My lips echo his name in the same fashion, coated with tears.

“‘m sorry I didn’ believe ya, Becks, I hate myself for that.”

“Harry, no, don’t. You don’t need to do that,” I say curtly, shaking my head into his warm chest. I remember the other liquid leaving my body. As much as I hate to, I bury my head in his neck instead so his shirt isn’t ruined.

“But afta alla that . . . I want t’,” he mumbles, each word weighed down even more than the last. Another tear to my heart right there.

“What’d I just say?” my lips move against his neck, in a way opposite than I thought it’d happen. “I just told you how you saved me, Harry. You stood up for me. You fought for me. You took care of me when I was hurt, and-. You did everything I wanted you to do, Harry, and more.”

His chin brushes against my hair as he nods in response. And that’s all I need. I relax against him with my other half curled against the couch, him sitting opposite me. My hands clutching the tufts of his blouse relax. I lay my cheek on his neck, and relax to the feeling of his pulse against my skin. Me. I never thought that this would happen, either.

Today is just full of surprises.

A couple sniffles and me almost falling asleep in the crook of his neck later, he pulls away. I whimper in disappointment and open my eyes to find him wiping his, sitting across from me.

“We should get ya cleaned up and get ya some ice,” he murmurs, flitting his eyes to me. I follow them to my hand that hasn’t left my nose since he handed me this very kleenex. Yuck.

“Yeah,” I reply with a disgusted look at my own hand. “I can do it, I’ll just go to the bathroom. I should probably fix my makeup in there, too.”

“I’ll order us somethin’ t’ eat while yer at it, maybe some churros and gnocchi soup,” he suggests, and I smile in response.

I get to my feet and watch him do the same. He squeezes my arm with a warm smile stuck to his lips before he turns to his desk. “Don’ be gone too long now. I know how girls can get when it comes t’ fixing makeup,” he quips, giving me a toothy grin as he picks up the office phone.

“I won’t,” I reply, watching him shoulder the phone and dial the buttons by memory.

His eyes play on the screen of his iMac as my feet drag themselves to the door. He doesn’t see me stealing glances at him over my shoulder on my way out the door.

“Yeah hi, ‘d like t’ place an order,” Harry begins, pulling over a notepad and a pen. I watch his lips move with every syllable, and the way his eyes crinkle with a laugh. Redness still rimming them, and leftover tears leaving them glassy.

His raspy drawl tickles my ears as my steps echo down the hall. The pounding in my head becomes harder, and so does the pounding in my chest. I almost stop when I hear his happy giggle, but I keep walking. I keep walking when I can’t hear his voice anymore, and my heart wants to leave me. I keep walking past my desk that’s littered with somebody else’s things.

The heels of my shoes echo in the empty bathroom. They stop in front of the sink, but I can’t look in the mirror.

I can’t.

I can’t do it.

I can’t look back at my broken reflection. Again.

The tears come again, fast and hard, and will me to slowly look up. I stop and have to start over again. Once or twice.

Splashes of purple and red shock me, and my chest is racked with another sob. I hate her. I hate myself. I hate that I let this happen. Again. I hate that I couldn’t stop it, or stand up to her. I pull the crumpled kleenex away from my nose and watch as a tear mingles with the blood. The old and the new.

My knuckles are white as they claw at the edge of the sink. Because I don’t know if I can hold on anymore. Drops of red splash into the sink in front of me, and I breathe in shakily. I close my eyes hard and try to take another. I blow it out with a shudder and whimper as another sob racks my body.

My eyes snap open and I rip a paper towel from the dispenser. I watch myself wet it under the tap, wring it out, and wash my face without deciding to. I go into autopilot, watching my own hands clean the streaks of blood from my face, the lines of mascara under my eyes, and the blood caked into the lines of my hands. I roll a piece of paper towel up and shove it in my nose, instantly forgetting about the nosebleed. I scrub my skin until it starts to hurt, but I almost don’t feel it.

When I look into the mirror again, I see the splotches of purple and red painted under my right eye. The red rawness around my nose, and the shininess of my eyes. And their emptiness.

Why did I let it get this bad?

How could I have ever let it get this far?

Why didn’t I leave sooner?

Why did I keep letting her hurt me?

And him?

Tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear, I bend my head and pump the soap dispenser. I watch the last drops of blood disappear down the drain, and take today along with it. With one last breath, I dry my hands and leave the bathroom.

I walk and I don’t stop. I don’t turn around.

I keep walking into the elevator. I only stop when I reach the back of it, and I don’t turn around. Because I know if I did, I’d keep walking.

I’d keep walking and go back to him. I’d let him hurt me again.

“Whiskey coke, please,” a voice murmurs beside me.

“What d’ya think, Becky?”

I blink hard and lift my eyes to the inquisitive ones staring back at me.

“W-what do I think of what?” I reply, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Of shots?” Asher continues with a funny nod of his head.

A laugh sputters from my lips, and warmth fills my cheeks, “No, Ash, we’re too old for that.”

“No we’re not!” he argues and another laugh of mine fills the air.

This feels good. I can’t remember the last time I laughed at something that wasn’t on my tv.

“Come on, Becky, a few shots never hurt anybody,” he quips, shrugging his shoulders clad in a hoodie.

“Yeah, not until tomorrow morning, Ash,” I reply and he deals me another shrug. I watch him turn to the bartender with a contagious smile and order a few shots.

“I can’t believe you still haven’t let me get you drunk, it’s what you do when you leave a job,” Asher comments, turning on his barstool to face me once more.

“I think the window of time to do that has kinda passed, Ash,” I comment, flicking my eyebrows up. He shakes his head with a chuckle as I move the ice around in my cup.

“Window schmindow,” he counters, batting a hand at me with a toothy grin. Now it’s my turn to shake my head. I uncross and recross my legs, watching the black fabric dance against my skin. “You can celebrate leaving a shit job anytime, even weeks afterward.”

“If you say so,” I reply, running a hand through my wavy curls. My eyes flit to the lines of Christmas lights strewn around the pub. The decorated Christmas tree in the corner adds to the atmosphere. I suddenly curse myself for the tenth time for wearing a dress in the middle of December.

Brown liquid sloshes onto the table in front of me, and I turn to find Asher picking his shot up and downing it. I close my eyes hard and can’t resist shaking my head at him, but my hand ventures to touch the cool glass. I bring it to my lips and choke down the volatile liquid.

“God, can you get anything more appetizing than that? Perhaps that doesn’t look and taste like shit?” I cough, setting the glass down with a clatter.

“Fine, you whiner. Can we have a Pornstar shot next, some Blue Kamikazes, and those Cotton Candy shots you got advertised?”

My cheek meets my hand and I lean on it as my eyes dance around the room. Bright neon lights shine behind the bar, and the bartender tosses the towel back over their shoulder. The hum of loud voices around me grows in volume. I hear laughs, glasses clinking, and 80s music from a speaker somewhere. The song ends suddenly and a Christmas jingle comes on. Soon, a bloke is singing along to it loudly and then his mate joins in too.

“Here,” Asher says, pulling me from my thoughts. He sets a blue and red shot of something in front of me. “Cheers to uh . . . leaving that shit hole of a job that I’m uh still at, and uh moving onto better things and new coworkers who will never be as great as me,” he smirks, clinking his glass with mine before knocking it down.

“Yeah, I think I can drink to that,” I titter before the liquid smelling of cherry cough syrup meets my lips.

Alcohol I can’t even pronounce the name of passes my lips in one shot after the other.

The volume in the pub rises and smothers my ears with incessant buzzing.

Christmas jingles fill the cracks of the room, and Ash and I can hardly resist singing along to them, badly.

The alcohol warms my cheeks and negotiates laughs from my lips.

A basket of fries falls in front of us and is only crumbs minutes later.

Glasses of water soon adorn my grasp and slowly the pounding in my temple falls away.

“Stop drinking water, you woose. That’s not how you get drunk,” Asher slurs with a whine, playfully shoving my shoulder. His spiked blonde hair is now a mess atop his head, pointing in different directions. The collar of his flannel no longer lays flat and points to the sky with flare.

“Did you ever think that maybe I don’t wanna get drunk?” I reply, trying and slightly failing to keep my words in a straight line.

“You’re no fun,” he replies, shaking his head as he grabs the Guinness the bartender just poured for him. He sips at the frothy foam and licks it from his blushing lips.

“Yeah I know,” I mumble, looking around the room and suddenly wondering why the hell I’m even here. I’ve been putting off getting drinks with Asher for weeks, and somehow I finally gave in tonight. But why? Probably because I was feeling sorry myself, and sorry for turning him down time after time.

“I know what could be some fun,” he announces, standing from his chair and teetering a bit. He almost grabs the counter for support, but he’s only buzzed. I’ve seen him far more pissed than this. “I love this song, it’s a real ballad. I’m pretty sure it played at my parent’s wedding or something. And don’t ask how I know that if I wasn’t there, because I dunno,” he rambles, stepping away from his beer to my surprise. I’m stolen away from my water when he tugs on my hand.

“Asher!” I groan as he pulls me along with him. I try and fail to free my hand from his grasp that’s even stronger when he has alcohol in him. I’ve never understood why or how. “I don’t dance!”

“Yeah, ya do. Anybody can bloody dance. Ya just put a hand here and a hand there, and move your feet back and forth,” he instructs, placing his hand on my waist and taking my other in his right. “Now, that’s not so bad, is it?”

“You’re really going to owe me after this one,” I moan with a shake of my head. Looking away with blushing cheeks, I cast my eyes downward and find my legs swaying effortlessly with the rock ballad. The cream stars on my black dress dance along with the music. To my surprise, my heels don’t crush his feet.

“Oh you have no idea,” he whispers, turning away from me and looking at the other few couples dancing on the floor.

“What?”

“Oh nothing. It’s just I’m a terrible dancer, you’ll see soon enough,” Asher says quickly, biting his lip and refusing to make eye contact with me. I watch his eyes jump when there’s a crash and the bartender is shouting. Oh boy.

The last notes of the song float into a soft 90’s love song. Asher sways with me and I guess this dancing thing isn’t too bad. Rom-Coms with prom scenes always made it seem more romantic, but those movies were never realistic for their love stories, anyways.

There’s a jingle of a bell when the front door opens, but it’s melted into the background the last half hour we’ve been here. I continue to sway with Asher and watch the other couples folded into each other’s necks, talking and laughing. My attention is grabbed when I hear Asher sigh and look up to find him staring at something behind me across the darkly lit room. His expression suddenly changes and I see his adam’s apple bob. Surprise paints his face when his eyes flit down to me.

“Now don’t be mad at me, okay?” Asher mumbles quickly, eyebrows touching the ceiling.

“What, why would I be mad at you?” I reply in a rush, looking at him with pure confusion. “Asher, I don’t-,” I begin, but he falls away from my grasp when he steps away from me.

“Oh,” the letters trip off of my lips when my eyes see what now stands in front of me. Or who.

Long legs clad in skinny blue jeans.

A tie-dyed Beatles shirt under a red and black flannel.

A black peacoat draped over his arms.

Saint Laurent brown leather boots donning his feet.

Rings layering his fingers.

And those moppy brown curls I loved so much.

“Harry,” I say, his name easily rolling off of my tongue.

His chest rises with a breath, “Hi, Becks. C-Can I interrupt and steal a dance?” he murmurs in his molasses-like drawl.

I can’t find any words, but he takes it as a ‘yes.’ Instead, I soon find my hand in his and his on my waist. The song pouring from the speakers guides our lazy movements and soon enough I’m slow dancing with Harry. His hand is clammy in mine, or maybe it’s mine. I’m not sure.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” I mutter, locking my eyes on a patch of twinkling lights in the corner that no longer twinkle.

“Asher told me you an’ some o’ tha blokes from tha firm were gettin’ togetha fer drinks,” he replies in a hushed whisper.

I shake my head and can’t hide the sigh that’s building inside of me. “Yeah, if he means just him and me.”

“Oh.”

“Harry, why are you really here?” I respond, finally daring to look him in the eye. I think it catches him off guard, and it takes him a second to collect his thoughts in front of me.

“Cuz ya didn’t lemme finish tha otha day, Becks,” he finally says. I continue to sway with my hand enveloped in his. The music fills the silence between us as words fleet me, and my anger grows.

“Then finish,” I retort.

A sigh, or a deep breath follows. I don’t know which. “I thought I fixed things or that ‘d started t’, Becks, and then ya just ran away. How many times do I hafta say ‘m sorry?” Harry says, locking eyes with me and holding me there. Too long. Longer than I want to be there.

“You can’t, Harry. Sorry doesn’t cut it anymore,” I reply curtly, dropping my hands. I turn around and walk away, with the door in sight.

“What, are ya gonna run away from me again?!”

“Yeah! Apparently, I’m getting really good at it!” I reply over my shoulder.

The door is only ten steps away when I feel his fingers coil around my arm. He gently pulls me into a corner by a deserted table and spins me around to face him.

“What was the point in staying, Harry?” I announce, throwing my hands up in question. I wonder if people are watching us, but they aren’t. They’re too preoccupied with their own problems, their beers, and The Spice Girls song that somebody chose to play.

“What? What d’ya mean?”

“Why should I have stayed the other day?” I respond, enunciating every single word.

“I dunno, to hang out and talk and eat dinner togetha. Like old times.”

I can’t resist laughing, and the effect it has on him is immediate. His already sullen expression falls just a little deeper into despair.

“Harry, I quit! It was my last day! Your girlfriend just punched me in the face in front of you. Why would I want to stay there with you?!” I chuckle, my hands helping me talk once again.

“Becks-.”

“No, y-you don’t get to keep calling me that after everything that’s happened,” I stutter, feeling the emotion play tug of war with my words. His lips part again to speak, but the alcohol makes me faster. “I quit, Harry. You have a new assistant now, and I’m sure she’s great. She is, isn’t she?” He nods after a stubborn second. “See! You have a new assistant who can put up with your shit. So why did I need to stay, and why do I need to be here right now?” I retort, letting my hands hit my thighs with a slap. My head shakes in annoyance before I put my back to him once again.

“Ya were more than just an assistant t’ me, you know that. We were friends, Becks,” he blurts out from behind me. The words stick to my feet like glue, and suddenly I can’t move another step.

“Yeah, I think that was the problem,” I say slowly, unsure of if I can face him. “We were friends one day, and then we weren’t the next day. What do you want me to say, Harry?”

I give up and turn to look into his watery green eyes. No, you don’t get to do this to me. Not again.

“Being friends didn’t work, Harry, and neither did being your employee. So that’s where we are. And I don’t want to try and be friends with you after leaving. We both know it won’t work, and don’t say that we don’t know that,” I continue, the words falling from my lips one after the other.

“I want ya t’ come back, Becks. I want us t’ try again. Ya had potential for law, and ya were learning so much,” he continues emphatically, pulling words out of his ass. I think he is, but the expression knit into his face refutes that. There are words etched there into the lines of his skin, but I don’t want to read them. I don’t want to go back on that roller coaster and feel all of that again.

“And where would I go, Harry?! Huh? You have a new assistant, so I can’t go there. Hmmm, where else . . Well, I’m not a lawyer, since I dropped out of law school . . And I’m not interested in being anybody else’s personal bitch, or doing whatever the hell The Cubiclers do . . So that leaves me out of the game. Sorry, better luck next time,” I tease, feeling the alcohol rush through my veins. They don’t call it liquid courage for nothing.

I try to leave, as I have so many times since I met him. But like all of the other times, he pulls me back in. This time, I can feel the cold metal of his rings as they encircle my hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and for some reason this time it yanks at my heart worse than the others. I swallow past the lump rising in my throat. No, you don’t get to make me feel this way again when I was just starting to get back to feeling normal.

“It’s too late, Harry. The other day . . it didn’t change anything. I-I have a new job, and there’s no place for me at your firm anymore,” I declare softly, venturing a look into his eyes. The color of the ocean on a stormy day. Much like today. “And there’s no place for you in my life anymore.”

My fingers slide from his warm grasp, and I rip my shoes from the floor with each step. But this time he doesn’t run after me or pull me back to him. And unlike all of the other times, I don’t want him to. I’m not sad or confused about wanting him to follow me.

This time, I’m relieved. My heartbeat slows as I walk over to the bar, grab my purse, pay my tab, and walk out into the crisp winter night. The further I am away from him, the better I feel. And the smaller his voice and his face become in the back of my head. Snowflakes fall heavy and fast from the gray sky above me. They mingle with the warmth of the bittersweet tears painting my face.

Emotions mix up inside of me, growing stronger with every step I take.

Sadness. Fear. Doubt. Relief. Anger. Excitement.

Each step I take is a step I take into my new future. A future full of unknowns and doubts. But bubbles of excitement fill me with that thought.

Excitement for finding a new me.

END OF PART ONE

#the assistant #pa harry #harry styles #harry au #harry styles au #lawyer au #assistant #one direction #fanfiction #wattpad #fanfics #1d #harry #writing

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lovebitesimagines · 5 years ago

Text

Dangerous Love- Crashing.

Here is Chapter Seven of Dangerous Love! It’s a little shorter than the previous chapters, but the drama starts...now!

Masterlist.

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

Tags: @happyhostforsymbiotes @namelesslosers @brianaisasongbird @crazymofos021 @lifetimeofadventue @itsmissdahliahayward @1opinionshared @biba3434 @onlythechicagoway

Wanna be on the tag list for this series, or another? Just lemme know! x

Hella fluffy, hella angsty chapter!

Warnings: Swearing.

You’re on cloud nine. Then it all comes crashing down.

Alfies POV

Alfie had been in a lot of perilous situations throughout his life. He had stared down numerous barrels of numerous guns, all held by men that haunted the nightmares of children. He had bargained for his life, having only a split second to pick the right words. He had watched as those he had loved in the past, his own families blood spill and stain the floor as carelessly as rain water. Yet nothing could compare to how he felt right now.

Nerves had been overcoming him at every opportunity, and haunting his sleep, since he had decided that he wanted to marry you. He had felt this way since your first date, the idea playing on his mind, teasing him as a kitten would with a mouse. Yet since he had spoken the words out loud, since he had admitted to both himself and Ollie, his stomach and mind where a cesspit of anxiety. He hated how he was currently feeling. Him, a tough London gangster, shouldn’t be nervous over such a natural feeling.

Alfie wanted everything to be absolutely perfect when he asked. To him, you deserved the absolute world, and he would stop in nothing to make sure that you got that. He had conversed with Ollie over the past few weeks, meticulously planning every aspect of the proposal. He had written to you, asking you to meet him where you both shared your first kiss, a place of significance to you both. He had arranged for somebody to pick you up, as he would be waiting at the meadow for you. All you had to do was turn up.

The only thing that was standing in the way of this ever being easy, were your brothers. Alfie knew they hated him, despite the fact they were so hell-bent on becoming business partners. He wasn’t foolish, he knew they only did this to benefit themselves. If they ever found out about your relationship, Alfie wasn’t afraid of what they would do to him. He was more worried about what they would do to you. He would tear the limbs of everyone in Small Heath and London combined, before he ever saw you get hurt.

Alfie was stood, looking out over the meadow. Every aspect of this evening had been perfectly ironed out, and as he looked across at his creation, he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. He had carefully scattered lit candles across the meadow, their flames flickering in the moonlight, casting dancing shadows against the trees. Alfie had laid a blanket in the middle of the meadow, as well as a few cushions, positioned so that you could lay down and look at the stars. He knew how much you enjoyed doing that. All he had to do now was wait, the ring weighing heavily in his pocket.

And wait he did.

He pulled out his pocket watch, his hands beginning to tremble, causing the chain to which it was attached to rattle. It was around due the time you should be arriving here, if all went well, if everything went to plan.

But what if it hadn’t? What if something had happened to you? Alfie refused to entertain the idea that you wouldn’t show up out of choice. He strained his ears in an attempt to hear any sound that would indicate you were on your way.

Nothing.

Alfie gripped his cane tighter, throwing his head back to look up at the stars. Each burning ball of gas tauntingly twinkled down at him, reminding him of how insignificant he was, especially how he felt in this moment. He blinked back the panicked tears that were beginning to burn at his eyes, something which hadn’t happened since he was a small, frightened boy. He fruitlessly attempted to push back the memories which had scarred and shaped him, each one rearing its ugly head to the front of his mind. He gasped as if he was struggling for air, each memory striking him where it hurt the most. The hot tears burst through the barrier he had placed up, leaving scalding hot trails as they slid down his cheeks and down his throat.

“Alfie?”

Alfies snapped his head to see you, frantically wiping at his eyes to clear his vision. There you were, standing in the entrance to the meadow. The moonlight bathed your already radiant skin, giving you a heavenly glow. He noted how you wore his favourite shade of red, the hem of the dress skimming just above your milky white knees. He slowly walked forward to meet you, almost in disbelief that you were here. His heart was still pounding against his chest, the remnants of the adrenaline rush leaving his body.

He watched as you reached out for him, your hand softly stroking against his cheek. He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed at your touch. He knew you would have felt the remains of his tears, yet you didn’t question nothing. He loved that about you, how you knew sometimes he just needed silence and you. Alfie stood there like that for a few moments, entranced by you and your touch, before he reluctantly opened his eyes, looking into yours.

“Ya’ wore the dress” he stated softly, his fingers running down the length of your arms, his words free of their usual curses.

“I wore the dress” you whispered, Alfie watching as goose bumps rose upon your skin. He took your hand in his, leading you towards where he had laid out the blanket and cushions. He sat down, gently pulling you down beside him, his arms wrapping around your waist. You both stayed in silence for a few moments, enjoying the sound of each other’s heartbeat. Alfie would never get tired of that sound.

“I used to come ‘ere as a young ‘un” he begun, his eyes scanning the stars above you both. Alfie absent minded stroked your waist as he spoke. “When everythin’ was goin’ to fuckin’ shit back home, and I couldn’t fuckin’ stand being there”.

The night was silent around you both, only the light breeze causing the leaves to lightly rustle. You didn’t speak, the movement of your eyes the only indication Alfie had that you were listening.

“I came back ‘ere since. The night I came back from the war” Alfie paused, taking a breath before continuing. “The night I fuckin’ watched a bullet go through me fuckin’ mothers skull”.

“Alfie, I’m-I’m so sorry…I” he lifted up his hand slightly to silence you, giving a gentle shake of his head.

“The thing is angel, yeah, I never thought I would ever have anything fuckin’ good in my life. And then I met ya’. I knew I wanted ya’, when ya’ fuckin’ came stormin’ into that room, all guns blazin’” Alfie chuckled, shifting his weight slightly so he could face you properly. “I thought, fuckin’ hell this might a woman that could match up to me”

“You know me too well Alf” you smiled softly, your fingers tracing down the veins on his arm.

“I never thought that I’d ever find someone as good as ya’. The thing is (Y/N)-“Alfie rummaged through his pocket, before pulling out a ring box. Your breath caught in your throat, as he slowly opened the box, revealing a diamond ring laying upon a red velvet cushion.

“Marry me angel”.

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

YOUR POV

Your eyes were transfixed upon the diamond that was currently in front of you, the stone glistening under the moonlight. It sat on a red velvet cushion and was held by the man who had completely captured your heart, currently asking you to be his forever.

Your first instinct was to whole-heartedly agree, without any doubts in your mind. You’d be lying to both yourself and him if you said there was no second thoughts tainting your decision. It was nothing to do with Alfie, to you he was perfect. It was more the fact that you didn’t know how your brothers would react. You pictured the Peaky Blinders causing destruction, the disappointment and anger that would be so clear in your brothers’ eyes. You would surely be outcast from the family without a second glance, or worse. They could hurt Alfie.

Your Alfie.

Your eyes fluttered up to meet his, his nerves blatant in his light blue eyes. You noticed how anxious tears started to form, threatening to spill out onto his cheeks. He slowly lowered the ring box, casting his eyes down to the floor. Your heart caught in your throat, an uncomfortable lump of sadness that was hard to swallow. You couldn’t possibly turn him down, you wanted this. Despite the challenges that you both would no doubt face, you wanted him. You reached out to stop him from lowering the box, your eyes once again meeting his.

“Yes” you whispered, smiling softly at him. “Yes, I will marry you, Alfie Solomons”.

Alfies’ eyes lit up instantly, the nerves he felt evaporating and quickly becoming replaced with pure joy. He slowly slid the ring onto your finger, the smile never quite leaving your face as you watched him.

“I promise ya’ now angel, ya’ will never have a day were ya’ ever doubt if ya’ the main priority in my fuckin’ life” Alfie whispered, pulling you into a soft kiss, before wrapping you in his arms.

Being in Alfies’ arms made you feel invincible, as if nothing could ever hurt you. It was your own perfect, impenetrable fortress. Nobody could ever destroy what you two had built up together.

Could they?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You and Alfie had laid upon the grass, watching the stars dance in the night sky, before the candles dwindled down to nothing. It was then that you both knew you had to make your separate ways home. The boat journey was silent, both enjoying each other’s company. The only sound you could both hear was the water moving beneath you, even the docks were eerily quiet for this time of evening. Usually the majority of your brothers’ business dealings took place under the cover of darkness.

You stood on the docks, your fingers running down the length of Alfies’ arms. You watched as he shivered slightly in pleasure- you would forever be proud of the affect you had upon the gangster. Neither of you wanted to be the first to depart, yet you both knew it was inevitable.

“My future wife” Alfie whispered, pulling you closer to him, pressing his lips against your hair. “I fuckin’ hate how I have to leave ya’ like this”.

“Soon you won’t have too” you responded softly, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Soon. Ya’ will live in a fuckin’ huge mansion with me angel. I will give ya’ the world” Alfie murmured, giving your head one final kiss before reluctantly pulling away. “Now ya’ get home angel, and rest that pretty little head of yours”.

You stood up on your tiptoes, closing the gap between you and Alfie, before pressing your lips against his. You would never get tired of kissing him, each time feeling as if it were the first. The tingles still rushed down your spine, the butterflies continuing to erupt in your stomach. You pulled away slowly, swallowing hard as you watched Alfie get back into the boat.

It never got easier, saying goodbye to him.

You began to make your way home, the streetlamps dimly lighting the way. It was slightly cold, the evening air sneaking through your clothing and chilling your skin, making you wrap your shawl tighter around you. The streets where abnormally quiet, the lack of people making it harder for you to blend in. You felt as if a million eyes were watching you, their silent forms of judgement sharp against your skin.

You slowly opened the front door to your house, careful not to make a sound and give everything away. You sighed gently as the door closed behind you, your mind struggling to comprehend everything that happened to you that evening. It felt as if you were floating in a dream, nothing quite seeming as if it were reality. One glance down at the ring that was on your finger, and a soft smile erupted upon your lips. It was all true.

You slipped through the house, your feet light upon the wooden floorboards. You gently pushed open the door to the living room, your heart instantly crashing loudly to the floor as you took in the scene in front of you.

Tommy sat at the wooden table, Arthur and John flanking each side of him. Their faces were illuminated by a candle, casting dark shadows upon across the room. There were empty glasses upon the table, a few dregs of whiskey still inside. They had been there a long time, you could tell by the stiffness of their bodies. This meant that they had time to think, their anger had time to brew, and you just knew that it would be directed entirely at you.

They knew about you and Alfie.

“You’re up late” you stated, shrugging off your shawl, tossing it carelessly upon the dresser. You struggled to string together a sentence, saying the first words that came to your mind. Panic was coursing through your veins, your heart beat beginning to race.

“We could say the same thing for you” Tommy articulated, his icy blue eyes lacking in emotion as they glared at you, tying you to the spot.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Arthur growled, his anger bubbling over. Your elder brother had always been unable to control his emotions as well as your other siblings, and right now it was evident. You noticed how his skin became flushed with agitation, his moustache twitching slightly.

“What? I’ve been studying. Is a woman not allowed to better herself?” you retorted, deciding that the better option was to act oblivious.

“Don’t fucking lie to us” John snapped.

“We know where you’ve been” Tommy stated, beginning to light a cigarette. “You really think we wouldn’t have someone follow you, after you were in fucking London last week?”. You blinked a few times, clasping your ring finger in your hand as if to hide it, as you tried to take in what your brother had just told you.

“You had someone fucking follow me?” you whispered. Although their actions did not surprise you in any way, it still caused hurt to ache in your chest. You had truly hoped that your brothers who you loved and respected so much, would at least treated you as one of their own. You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Of course, we fucking did!” Arthur snapped, losing his cool as he stood up, knocking over the table. The empty glasses crashed to the floor, shattering as they met the floorboards. His voice echoed throughout the house, reverberating off the dining room walls.

There were a million words that you wanted to say in response, but you knew that nothing you could say would be right. You had been so happy before you left Alfie this evening, experiencing a cloud nine sensation for the first time in your life. But now, things had drastically changed. You had come crashing back down to Earth and landed hard. The diamond upon your finger suddenly felt weighted.

“We know about you and Solomons” Tommy began, seemingly un-phased by Arthurs outburst. His eyes told a different story. They were completely emotionless, staring right through you as if you were a stranger.

“Tommy…I-“ you began, your words getting caught in your throat. You nervously twisted your hands together, your diamond glinting in the candlelight.

“You’re fucking engaged to him” John laughed in disbelief, as his eyes caught the ring upon your finger.

“Yes. Yes, I am” you whispered, staring at Tommy. You ignored the uproar that had exploded around you both, the words that violently escaped from John and Arthurs’ mouths, the hidden threats that were sprinkled in between each syllable. Your eyes silently pleaded with Tommy, hoping that somehow, he would understand.

“You’ve betrayed this family” he stated. His words cut through the noise, causing an uncomfortable silence to abruptly settle in between you. He stood up, ignoring you as he walked past, John and Arthur following closely behind.

You sunk to your knees, unfamiliar sobs tearing through your body. All you had ever wanted as a child, was for your brothers to hold you in high regard, to be accepted within the tight knit Shelby family group, to be allowed space to breathe without a Peaky Blinder inspecting your every move.

Alfie had provided you not just with stability, but he also respected and admired you. He was protective, yet he also allowed you to move in your own way. You had fallen deeply in love with him, something which you did not expect to happen, yet you wanted to be allowed to relish in it. You wanted to be able to celebrate your engagement, like a normal couple would. You wanted to witness the happiness on your families faces, as you announced that you were due to marry the man who was your soulmate.

But you weren’t a normal couple. You weren’t part of a normal family, who were thrilled at your news. You weren’t a normal woman.

And you never will be. Not when you’re a Shelby.

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platypanthewriter · 5 years ago

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The Dragon’s Prince 3/3

To be taken seriously, sometimes you just have to eat a few sorcerers.

Nancy and Elle between them were able to chant the anti-magic sigil—it looked like a brand, burned under Billy's ribs—into curling back, a little, and Nancy snatched it off Billy’s skin with tongs, and threw it in the fire. It belched oily smoke, and Steve yanked a fold of blanket over Billy’s face, uncertain what it would do in his lungs. The skin against his hands, under the blanket, was already warmer.

When Billy woke again, Steve was sweaty and half-undressed from holding a sleeping dragon for hours in front of a roaring fire. Billy jerked against his shoulder, clenching a scaled fist. “How does it work,” he asked, pushing away to keep his eyes steady on Steve’s, as he ran his claws over his own throat, and slid them along his wrists and ankles.

“How does what work?” Steve held up a cup of water, and Billy took it, pausing in his inspection of the bare patch of skin where the seal on his magic had been.

“What happens to me when I drink this,” he enunciated clearly, taking a deep breath. His scales scraped the sides of the silver cup, and Steve winced.

“I—I think you’re still—you were disoriented. It’s just water.”

Billy growled, water running down his arm as his claws pierced the metal. “Stop—you just—” He trailed off, then jerked away to sit at the other end of the pile of furs. “...you’re out of my debt, is that the deal? I didn’t wake up in sigil chains, but you don’t owe me anything—you don’t have to keep touching me—”

Steve scooted close enough to grab Billy’s scaled hand, and pressed his lips to its knuckles. Billy tipped to bury his face against Steve’s neck, breathing shakily, and Steve turned the hand in his so he could kiss Billy’s fingers, and palm, and down his wrist. “I couldn’t move, under your lead ass. But. Thank you,” he whispered. “Thanks so much for helping. You didn’t have to. You’d have been safe.”

“Had to rescue my prince,” Billy whispered back, curling closer, and Steve braced himself to take the weight of a cuddly dragon in the shape of a man, hoping he didn’t get crushed.

“I talked to Nancy,” Steve squeezed him, talking into his curls, “—and she, uh, she said we might be able to make a sigil band you can wear that’d keep something like that from—from taking hold, again. Knocking you out of the sky. I think—that’s probably why you thought I’d try to—”

“Make me immune to your one weapon against dragons?!” Billy repeated, his voice cracking. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” Steve huffed, his cheeks flushing. “Not every dragon, just you—”

Billy shoved him back across the furs, yanking at his clothes, and Steve yelped as their teeth banged together.

“You fell too,” he whispered against Steve’s lips. “You weren’t—that wasn’t a plan, you didn’t trick me to get me here and then control me—”

“You thought—” Steve blinked up into Billy’s eyes, then closed his. “...the little dragon. You thought we’d—do that. To you.”

“I know you let him go,” the scales of Billy’s knuckles smoothed along Steve’s cheek, “—but I’m dangerous. You—you can’t just go trusting—”

Steve yanked him into a deep kiss, then panted, “I trust you.”

Billy dropped his head to Steve’s chest, groaning.

“That’s what you were talking about, earlier,” Steve told the ceiling, hugging his dragon. “That’s—that’s horrible, we wouldn't—I'd never let anyone—are—are you feeling better? Your sister helped us. The air dragon. Breathed at us to break the fall.”

“...whoever did that to me,” Billy lifted his head, “—didn’t care that you’d fall, too.”

“...you are dangerous,” Steve reached up to run his fingers through Billy’s curls, tucking them behind a pink, but pointed, ear. “I mean, I know you’re safe, but I probably seemed like a necessary—”

“No,” Billy scrambled up and sat on him, “—no, you—your dad—I’m—he sent you to me thinking you might die, right—”

Steve was staring at the side the falling blanket had revealed, in the firelight—long clawmarks in pink skin, stretched with age, and a healed jagged tear. He smoothed his hand along the shiny areas between the freckles. “Wait, you—you’re the little dragon.”

Billy took a shaky breath, his hand jerking toward his side, then shook his head. “Now you know why I have to help clean up my mess.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Steve breathed, grabbing him by the shoulders, and pulling him down into a hug. “I think you weigh as much as my horse—”

Billy snorted a laugh, rolling them to the side. “...holding you to the one night.” He glanced up through his lashes, biting his lip, and Steve couldn’t resist.

“...you know it’s almost morning, right?” he whispered back. “You’ve already had your night.”

Billy stared at him for a long moment, then shoved him over onto his back.

Steve started sniggering. “...nah.”

“You’re pretending you don’t want it as much as I do,” Billy shoved him again, and Steve rolled off the rug, laughing.

“Maybe.”

“Definitely,” Billy growled, crawling towards him. Steve grinned up, pinned to the floor by his dragon, and Billy leaned in, his weight carefully braced, to start licking his face like a giant gross dog, and Steve yelled, laughing, and yanked him into an actual kiss.

Right at the moment Steve least cared, a thumping came at the door. He groaned, ignoring it, and heard Billy laugh behind him.

“Your highness,” came a kid’s voice. “It’s important!”

“...can wait,” Steve mumbled, but the thumping turned into banging, and Billy pulled away.

“They’re gonna break the door.” He pressed a kiss against Steve’s butt, and Steve growled, staggering to his feet, and yanking his trousers up. The pounding continued. He threw the door open with a glower, and shaky knees, from the two of them trying to figure out every single thing that could be done with Billy’s long wiggly dragon tongue. “What,” he hissed.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Billy shimmer and contract into his scaled human self, and Steve drew breath to sigh just as Max in little girl form punched him aside and ran in, followed by more children he knew, and some he didn’t. “Wha—what,” he gasped to Dustin, who snorted.

She ran to Billy and threw her arms around his neck, red hair streaming behind her, and Billy spun them around as she tried to climb him and look him over.

“You dunderhead,” she hissed. “You—you horny goatbrain. What were you doing there—”

“His highness asked me for help,” Billy grinned down, and she punched his shoulder, then punched it again.

“What if I hadn’t been there!” She threw her arms around his head again, this time grabbing him by the hair, and Billy yelped, smacking at her hands.

“That’s a dragon? He looks like you found him braiding his pretty hair in a tower, Steve—” Dustin wrinkled his nose.

“Max says he never wears pants,” Lucas crossed his arms, and raised his eyebrows, “—she says he hucks pornographic woodcuts at people—”

“Wait, wait, when did that happen,” Steve cut in.

“Wooo, sign me up,” Dustin snickered. “I guess the naked dragon man is good for something—” He cut off at the gout of flame that burned all the oxygen from the room, blasting their ears before vanishing without a puff of smoke. Everyone who wasn’t a fire dragon started coughing, and Billy dumped Max on her butt and meandered over to Steve, rubbing his back as he staggered to the window and threw it open.

“Yes!” Dustin gasped, and Steve hung his head and arms out the window, until Lucas drug him back inside.

“It’s still cold, even though she closed the Gates of Winter,” Lucas growled, shivering.

“Even though Billy made her close the gates,” Steve sighed, nodding. He rubbed his face, watching Dustin follow Billy around asking questions like “So if you ate a drumstick now, and then if you puked it up as a dragon, would it be a drumstick big enough for a whole village,” and “Don’t you think it’s irresponsible, Steve, that he could make infinite food with dragon puke, and there are hungry people out there that could be eating dragon puke.”

Steve dropped to lie back across his bed. “If he’d just pay his taxes, there wouldn’t be hungry—” their ears popped as Billy transformed back into a dragon, which took up most of the room, then grabbed Steve and held him up in both claws.

“I will throw him and knock you all out like bowling pins,” he rumbled.

“Humans aren’t furniture, Billy,” Max hissed at him, and all their hair ruffled a bit in the wake of her breath powers.

“They can be,” he growled back. “I’m starting a collection.”

“I’m just part of a collection?!” Steve yelped.

“Can you transform the other way?” The other kid squinted, and Steve tried to remember his name. Michael? Probably? “Can you make a huge human head on a dragon neck?”

“Yes!” Dustin yelled. “Can you—”

Billy drew breath, slowly, letting them really appreciate how long his lungs took to fill, and let flames flicker at his nostrils.

“Oh wow, this is gonna—”

Lucas grabbed Max, and Dustin, and some other kid Steve couldn’t see in the mass of dragon, and probably a few more, and yelled “GOODBYE!”, and the door slammed.

Steve looked around the mountains of scales surrounding him, and wished he had a rope. Possibly a grappling hook. He began scrambling up, putting a foot on Billy’s elbow—and the dragon promptly stretched his leg, dropping Steve back into his gleaming golden trap. He huffed a sigh, and tried pulling himself up with dorsal scales, only to have Billy roll just enough onto his back that they yanked out of his hands. “...help,” he gritted out, finally, and Billy snorted.

“I think I hear an unsexy tax collector.” He thumped his grinning face down next to Steve, upside down, so Steve was looking down at his chin. “Is there a tax collector in my scales? Maybe there’s a salve for this kind of infestation—”

Steve dropped to the floor, hugging his knees, and leaned against Billy’s cheek. “You did agree to pay when you signed your papers—”

“Do you know how expensive an anti-magic seal is, especially one strong enough to down me—and his kid—in midair?”

Steve threw an arm over Billy’s jawbone, and rubbed the soft scales around his throat. His appreciative hum vibrated the floor. “...I guess it’s a lot?”

“It’s a lot,” Billy turned his head, ignoring Steve’s laughing and flailing as he was pinned between the soft scales of dragony stomach, and the gleaming golden armor of dragony face. “You said you didn’t have enough to feed everyone, didn’t you? The hell is the king doing shooting allies out of the sky?”

“I don’t know,” Steve curled up, held against Billy’s side, “—it doesn’t make any sense. But maybe if there was more money to go around—”

“Nooope,” Billy nuzzled him, sliding his tongue down Steve’s neck, and into his collar. “You should usurp the throne. King Steve.”

Steve’s eyes had been drifting shut, but that had him shoving at Billy’s face. “What?! I—I’m not—no!” He snorted with laughter. “I’m not—I can’t—”

“What if everyone just starts listening to you,” Billy whispered, blowing hot air under Steve’s shirt, and running hot dragon tongue across his stomach. “Because your dragon comes to council meetings. Roars every time the king opens his mouth.”

“Tha-that—” Steve panted, squirming as he undid his shirt, “—that might work—you could—”

“You have to let me eat somebody,” Billy breathed against his prince’s exposed chest, grinning as he exploded with laughter. “Nobody will listen if I’ve never eaten anybody.”

“No! No,” Steve laughed, trying to wrap his arms around Billy’s nose. “No, you don’t really want to eat anybody.”

“I could make an exception,” Billy grumbled. “Sorcerer Brenner. I bet he’s the one who fired that spell off. He looks chewy. Like smoked jerky.”

Steve snorted, pulling on Billy’s horn so he could press kisses along the side of his face. “...maybe you could just chew on him a little.”

“I’ll just eat his legs,” Billy grumbled, nuzzling him back, “—maybe his arms—”

It was warm against Billy’s side, and weirdly...safe feeling, considering they were talking about him eating people. Steve sighed. “Won’t be your problem once you get back to—” he waved a hand, “—eating pirates. And things. Setting people on fire.”

“...set you on fire,” Billy whispered, sliding his tongue up Steve’s ribs, and over his collarbones.

Steve bit down an admission that he was on fire, and leaned to wrap more of himself around Billy’s face. “Mmmn.”

“Your highness,” Billy whispered, his voice rumbling through Steve’s whole body.

“What,” he mumbled.

“Why didn’t you want to come back here? Before?”

“...doesn’t matter,” Steve sighed, pushing himself away. Billy uncurled a bit, so his feet hit carpet.

“Your right royal knight.” Billy shrank, transforming so fast it made a cracking sound in the air, and grabbed Steve’s shoulders to turn him back around. “Has anyone come to see you, since you brought me back to your room? Checked to see whether I’d eaten you, or—” He bared his teeth and hissed at Steve’s headshake, then pulled him close, kissing his face. “...then nobody,” he stared into Steve’s eyes for emphasis, “—nobody knows what our bargain was.”

“I—I sent Max for Elle,” Steve felt himself warm at the dragon’s indignation, “—they—they know I’m all right.”

“Hrm. But, still. Nobody knows what I asked for?” Billy grabbed Steve’s face, his claws gentle.

Steve shook his head.

“What...would you have had me ask.” Billy leaned in to press a kiss to his mouth, then pulled back, licking his lips.

“You changed your mind?” Steve frowned down at his feet, and Billy ducked his head to meet gazes.

“I think I—I think I could do better. I could ask for you to be one of my treasures.”

“What?!” Steve laughed. “Are you gonna hang me on the wall after all?”

“I would have to stay here,” Billy emphasized, slowly, and Steve’s eyes widened, “—to protect my greatest treasure.”

“I—I’m—” Steve laughed. “What are you—you don’t like staying anywhere—”

“What if I took you away from here,” Billy offered, and Steve took a shaky breath, imagining mornings waking up against hot smooth scales, and probably so much sex they’d both die of starvation. “No schedules,” Billy whispered. “No diplomacy, no problems you have to fix—”

“No, no,” Steve shook his head, pulling away. “I—I have to stay, there are—there are some people I can help, even if I’m not—”

“So I’ll help you help them,” Billy followed along, taking his hand. “They can’t tell you no if you’re using my money, right?”

“I—I can’t just—there are people in charge of these things for reasons—”

“General Hopper was doing pretty good out there,” Billy breathed against his cheek, and Steve wrinkled his nose.

“Please don’t tell me you’re—”

“And some of those sorcerers. Wheeler. Byers. Promote them to help. Battlefield promotions are a thing, right?”

“This is sounding like a coup again,” Steve laughed, wide-eyed.

“Get them all here, they can help you figure it out,” Billy kissed him again, and Steve let his eyes fall shut, forgetting his train of thought. “People you trust. Enough money. Whatever you come up with, I’ll make it happen—”

“This would take more than a night,” Steve whispered against scaled lips, and Billy snorted.

“I don’t think I should leave you here alone, treasure, someone tried to kill you today.”

“Are you calling me ‘treasure’?” Steve snorted a laugh, and rubbed his face to hide it, and Billy grabbed him around the waist and swung him around.

“That’s what I want to—what I wish I asked. Be my treasure.”

“That’s so corny,” Steve wheezed, trying to hide his flaming face with his arms. He yelped as Billy tossed him across the bed, and clambered up next to him. The bed creaked alarmingly.

“Is that a yes? All the best Feng Shui Hoard magazines recommend a prince draped over your—”

Steve kicked at him, then frowned. “Don’t eat anyone. Don’t eat my dad, or my mom, I don’t want to find you—using her toe bones as a toothpick or—”

“Is that a yes?” Billy leaned in, his inquisitive hum making Steve’s chest vibrate.

“You want to stay here with me forever and help me,” Steve stared up, squinting, “—that’s—what—what do you get out of—”

“And kiss you,” Billy yanked Steve’s shirt up, and started pressing kisses under his ribs, and down the trail of hair leading into his pants, “—and touch you everywhere—”

“Yes! Yes!” Steve yelped. “Yes, anything—anything—”

“Treasure,” Billy whispered, and Steve started snickering again, curling around his dragon to kiss his head.

#harringrove for Australia #harringrove #art by neonlaynes #platypan #platypan fic #platypan FINISHED FIC #Billy's a dragon #Also he's Steve's problem #Steve likes him too much #Sparkly Billy!#Billy definitely kisses the mirror a lot #Steve definitely watches

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golden-deer-dear · 5 years ago

Text

Love of Mine, Chapter 5/5, a Claude x Byleth Fic

Summary: They were so looking forward to the birth of the first child, but when complications arise, Byleth and Claude must face the fact that their moment of happiness could turn into a tragedy.

Notes: Uh yeah, so I needed a break from writing kid Byleth and Claude, and decided to just go ahead and finish this. Thank you to everyone who stuck with me through this. Your support means a lot to me.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Read on AO3.

Love of Mine, Chapter 5

Kiana took a deep breath as the gate before her opened and the cheers of the crowd washed over her. As she stepped out into the blazing Almyran sunlight, the cheers reached a fever pitch. They knew what would happen at the end of this fight, and they had already embraced its outcome. Through the care and dedication she had shown her people, they had come to embrace her.

“I am the King of Almyra, Dowager King of United Fódlan, Hero of the Western Wars, and Blessed of the Green Star! Who are you to challenge me?”

Her father’s voice cut across the noise of the crowd, declaring the traditional battle cry that came before a coronation, and they waited with bated breath for her answer, despite knowing full well who she was. “I am Queen of a United Fódlan, Archbishop of its faith, Princess to the lands of Almyra, She Who Blessed the West with Water, and Bulwark of a Nation!”

At her words the crowd shouted again, and she had to wait for them to calm before she could speak once more. “I have come to claim the throne of Almyra! Through birthright I challenge you, and by my strength shall I prove worthy!”

Kiana came on hard and fast, dodging to the side when she felt her father’s axe disturbed the air near her. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, adrenaline fueling every spell and punch. This fight was her destiny, and she would not fail.

“Tear him apart, Kiana!”

“Uh, Tessa, that is your father down there.”

Tessa rolled her eyes and waved a hand at her in law. “Oh, she knows I don’t mean literally, Hanneman. Besides, that’s your wife!”

“And I’m very proud of her,” Hanneman said, as calmly as they ever did. Cyril and Lysithea’s child, named for the man who had given Lysithea back the years of her life before he passed on, stood at Byleth’s side, watching over the children that played at the former archbishop’s feet.

Tessa’s mother, the revered Byleth, queen of two nations and leader of a religion for many years, seemed so much happier with her burdens removed. Despite the laughter lines around her eyes, and the grey streaking her once rare green hair, she seemed younger sitting there holding Kiana and Hanneman’s third child. The older two, only six and four, had been entertaining each other until their mother appeared. Now they stood with eager faces pressed against the railing of the royal box as they watched their mother and grandfather fight.

Tessa clicked her tongue in distaste and turned, her skirts swirling out around her and transforming her every movement into a dramatic effect. She had long ago learned to wield fashion as effectively as any other weapon available to her. She sank onto a lounge next to her fiance, leaning into the other woman’s side. It wasn’t that she disliked her in law, she just never really saw eye to eye with them. Hanneman was much too business comes first for her taste, but it did make them a good ruler. And her sister loved them, so tolerating their presence was the least she could do.

“Lucina, love, how are you doing? Is there anything I can get you?” Tessa asked as she hooked her arms around one of her fiance’s own. She caught the flash of her mother’s smile out of the corner of her eye, and it warmed her own soul.

“No.” Lucina shook her head with a smile on her lips. “I’m fine. I’m just reminded of Ferox right now.”

The adventurer in Tessa jumped for joy at the mention of the other kingdom. “You’ll have to take me there when we go back to Ylisse. Father will be fascinated.” The fact that her parents had agreed to go to Ylisse with her when Tessa went back for her marriage only made her more eager to leave. And Byleth seemed very interested in the alternate version of Lucina that had come back in time to fight in a war beside her parents. It was a fascinating topic, but Tessa preferred her version of Lucina.

It was not that she did not enjoy being in Almyra that made Tessa want to leave, but she knew it would always be there for her to come home to. It was what made Tessa serve so well as her sister’s ambassador. Kiana touched the hearts of their people at home, and Tessa reached out to those beyond their borders.

“It’s almost over,” Byleth said softly, drawing everyone’s attention back to the fight.

Claude had once been the most feared warrior in Almyra, challenged only by his queen. But his movements had started to slow with age, his grey hair proof of the toll time had exacted upon him. Kiana threw fire from her fists, reading the changes in the air to determine where her father moved. Tessa had to admire Kiana’s fighting style every time she saw it. It was something unique to her sister. Kiana had mastered preparing spells while throwing punches and kicks, releasing their potency right beneath her enemy’s nose.

Kiana landed a particularly vicious hit across Claude’s jaw, lightning sparking at his flesh as she hit. The King of Almyra hit the floor hard, rising to his feet a minute later with the help of his daughter, all without his crown. No, that belonged to Kiana now.

Tessa’s beloved older sister was now queen of two countries.

She leapt up, cheering her sister’s name louder than anyone else in the crowd. Even Hanneman let loose a cry of triumph for their wife.

And through it all, Byleth smiled, soft and serene, surrounded by the people she loved most in the world. The burdens of leadership were removed from her shoulders, and the joy Tessa saw in those mint green eyes, eyes she had inherited, made her own fill with tears.

Her mother had sacrificed so much over the years. She deserved to spend the rest of her life proud of her children, spoiling her grandchildren rotten, and spending time with the man she had come back for time and time again.

“You’re missing a party.”

Byleth leaned back into Claude’s strong arms as he joined her on the balcony, wrapping her in his warm embrace. Even after all these years, she could still marvel at how wonderful she felt when he held her close. “It is a party for the young, the generation we have passed the world to. Right here, on this balcony with you, is the only place I need to be right now.”

Claude hummed against her hair, his lips kissing the top of her head before he laid his cheek against her. “How did Seteth take the news?”

“He knew. He knew long ago when the first grey hair appeared.” Byleth sighed heavily, a sudden chill going through her. It was the one regret she had about choosing to give up the long life the crest stone in her heart would offer her. She did not want to cause Seteth and Flayn another hurt, but her place was with Claude. “He said he wasn’t sure how I had done it, especially with his blood and Rhea’s in my veins, but didn’t seem surprised.”

“I’d like to know how you did it,” Claude pointed out. “An eternity with you doesn’t sound so bad.”

Byleth smiled and shook her head, turning in her husband’s embrace. Her hand lingered on the bruise across his jaw, softly caressing the marred skin. “We have our own eternity right here. Look.” She took his hand and led him to the center of the balcony where the night sky sparkled up at them as moonlight played on precious gemstones embedded in black stone. They shone brightly, the static sky on the night Claude had purposed, matching the moving stars above. “They’re in the same positions,” Byleth pointed out, lifting her head to look at the heavens.

“Huh. They really are. I lost track of where everything was with Kiana’s coronation.” He swept Byleth back into his arms, swaying gently to a simple melody he began to hum.

Byleth let him lead the dance, harmonizing with her own tune. She smiled up at him, Claude’s face, no less handsome for the years that weighed upon it, was illuminated by starlight. She knew she would want for nothing else the rest of her years. However many were left, they would all be spent side by side with the man she loved.

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

I FINISHED A FIC! Guys, you have no idea how hard it is for me to finish a multi chapter fic! I am really happy right now!

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #claudeth #claude x byleth #claudeleth #my fic #love of mine #fanfic

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