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thatharringrovehoe · 3 years

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So I've been playing Dishonored which is my favorite game and this popped into my head so now you all have to suffer with me. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

He's so fucking cold. Like he’s been plunged into a lake mid winter and can’t find his way to the surface. Hands shaking, Billy sifts clumsily through the box of his mother’s things he keeps hidden in the back of his closet. He's found that if he thinks about the good times, picnics at the beach under the California sun, the thing oozing it's way though his brain losses just a bit of it's grip. Leaves Billy with enough motor function to stumble around his bedroom, trying to find the right pieces. And fucking hell it’s been so long since he's done this. He can remember helping his Ma when he was little, chubby fingers clenched tight in her cotton sundress as she arranged the items on the table just right. Pricked her finger to draw sigils in a language long forgotten, her voice a soft cadence through the bedroom as she hummed Billy’s favorite lullaby. No words, just a beautiful mournful thing. Humming a song of grieving loss. Billy doesn't know why he likes it so much.

“Remember baby. When you offer your gifts they have to be special. Well loved. Something that brings you joy every time you use it.”

His mother kept a pair of earrings on the cloth covered table. She never wore them when his father was home. Took them out and put them back on the little rickety stand in the back of her closet every day before he came back from work. Dangling silver daggers with the onyx beads. Billy shoved one straight through his left earlobe when he turned fifteen and has barely taken it out since.

His Ma told him that everything he built his shrine with had to mean something. Had to be something he treasured. From the fabric to the stand itself. So Billy tried his best. Draped his best leather jacket over the milk crate that held all of his favorite hair products. Placed his Ma's Fleetwood Mac album next to one of his mother's silver earrings (the one he always wears), arranged as neatly as he can manage. He’d had to prick his thumb seven times because to his dawning horror it kept healing over. Just another tally mark towards something being really fucking wrong. And he remembers the warehouse. Can still feel the slimy caustic sludge being pumped down his throat by a fucking tentacle. But he’d hoped it had been a dream, a nightmare from reading to many Lovecraft novels. Billy curses as he slices open his thumb for what feels like the millionth time.

Apparently not.

He's drawn the characters just how he remembers. His mother had made him practice every day, showing him each and every shape and line, drawn in colorful crayon. She gave him a cookie every time he got them right. Never hung them up on the fridge though. Didn't want his father to see.

He can feel the shadow creeping through his blood, dragging it’s claws against his veins. It might not know exactly what he’s doing yet, but it must be able to feel the intention. Billy thinks of ocean waves and a soft hand running through his curls. Fights the pull at the back of his mind to just give in. To sleep. His hands shake harder.

Fuck, where is it?! Billy combs through records and trinkets, a bottle of her perfume. He’s desperately hoping it didn't get lost in the move because his mother never taught him how to make one. Hell, he's pretty certain that he wouldn't be able to find the pieces he needs in Hawkins anyway. Not like Melvalds has a supernatural voodoo isle.

Then finally, finally he finds it. Lifting up his mother’s satin scarf it comes tumbling out to land on the floor with a clatter. Bleached white and beaten smooth by the waves, it's about the size of a sand dollar. Billy picks it up, places it in the palm of his hand. He still remembers the day he found it out on the shore. Washed up between some sea glass, the leather bindings still somehow soft even soaked with salt water. Etched with symbols and shapes Billy will never understand. When Billy showed it to his mother an unreadable expression crossed her face. It was that evening she showed him her shrine.

The rune seems to hum against his skin, an otherworldly song from far away ghosting past his ears. The thing that’s trying to Shanghai Billy’s brain writhes. It's angry, but more than that it’s fucking terrified and Billy has never been more sure of anything in his life. This was a good idea. But his limbs are getting colder, heavier. Whatever this evil piece of shit is it doesn’t like what Billy’s doing. He has to fight against the deadening of his limbs, crawling towards his shitty attempt at a shrine from his place on the floor. His vision is starting to grow dark when he finally clutches on to the milk crate, placing the rune between the earring and his cassette tape. And he knows that there's no guarantee. That whatever his Ma prayed to every night never shielded her from Neil’s fists, didn’t do a damn thing as the cancer slowly drained her down to nothing. That sometimes (most times) when someone would call out to the void the only thing they heard in return was their own disappointment. But he's got no other options. This is his trump card. His last resort. If this hocus pocus bullshit doesn’t work then Billy is up shit creek without a paddle. With a frustrated shout against the nightmare pulling him in, Billy begs.

“Please! Fuck, help me! I'll do anything, c’mon just- please!”

The air in Billy’s bedroom all of a sudden seems to shudder. The shadows flicker and meld together, reaching outwards. The sound of dry fall leaves blowing in the wind, a wail of a thousand dying worlds ricochets off the walls. Then nothing. Billy scrunches his eyes shut against the sting of tears. Fuck, of course it didn’t work. Story of his life. He called for help and just like always it doesn't mean shit. No one is coming to save him.

“Well well well. Certainly been a long time since someone summoned me like that. Very old school.”

Billy’s eyes snap open, the surprise and adrenaline enough to fight the heaving weight of his limbs to raise his head. And there, perched on his shitty milk crate shrine, sits the most beautiful boy he's ever seen. He's got hair the color of soil after it rains. High cheekbones and full lips, milky white skin dotted with a constellation of beauty marks. Billy didn't know what he expected but it certainly wasn't this. The boy god is dressed in a swanky leather coat the color of charcoal with pants to match. Eyes like an oil spill, inky black and endless. With a good look at Billy, they narrow dangerously.

“I thought I fucking told you not to touch this world. You want a repeat of last time?”

Whatever deity he summoned looks pissed as hell. Did he not do it right? Maybe the items weren’t good enough. That would be just his luck. He's so confused he almost doesn’t notice it right away. The shadow slowly working it’s way through his body has stopped, retreated a little even.

“I-... I don't know what you’re talking about. Please, there's something wrong with me. Something got put inside of me and I need it out. Please, help me.”

Billy hasn’t begged since his Ma was takin her last breath in that damn hospice bed. Didn't see the point when it always got you nowhere. But now he can't make himself stop. Cuz he's never been this scared before. The things this monster inside him wants him to do. It's so strong, like he’s fighting a steam roller. He's got no hope on his own.

The boy sitting on his best leather jacket stills. Cocks his head to the side slightly, considering. Then those pretty pink lips are spreading out into a gleeful smirk. Slides off the shrine to settle on his knees in front of Billy. Reaches out his hand to cup Billy’s jaw gentle enough it makes him want to cry.

“You can't get a good enough hold of this one can you? Interesting. Tell me trouble maker, what's your name?”

That voice, deep and ethereal, seems to echo from all around him. He can feel it vibrate in his bones. He wants, no, needs to answer.

“Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

The boy smiles now, all gleaming pearly whites. If Billy looks long enough reality starts to flicker. And for just a second all he can see is teeth sharp like knives in a Cheshire grin. There for a moment and gone in a flash. The hand on his jaw tightens just the slightest fraction.

“Well Billy Hargrove. You seem to find yourself in quite the predicament. That parasite sucking on your soul is an old acquaintance of mine. He's one nasty little shit.”

If a brain washing shadow monster could feel indignant he’s pretty sure that’s what's happening now. Whatever was hijacking Billy's mind has curled up somewhere tight, sunk it’s teeth in deep. Cornered like a threatened animal.

“Please, I’ll do anything you want. I can’t… I can’t fight it. It's too much.”

There’s enough tears leakin down his face that it's soaking the front of his shirt. The boy is giving him this look, almost amused. The longer he holds Billy’s jaw the more the monster losses his grip, and Billy is ready to do anything at this point. Because that thing stuck to his brain wants him to find people. Feed it people. Wants Billy to drink all the chemicals in the supply shed at the pool. Told Billy that if he tried to fight it would take Max first and he can't let that happen.

The boy seems to come to a decision, grabs Billy’s hands to help him shakily to this feet. He doesn’t let go even when they’re both standing.

“You know there’s not many who can fight his hold for this long. I'm impressed.”

He steps forward until his chest is practically pressed up against Billy's. He smells like ozone and smoke, bottomless black eyes trained on stormy blue. Reaches up to tangle his fingers into Billy’s curls, sending tingles across his scalp. Smiles wider at the small noise that escapes Billy's throat.

“I'll help you Billy Hargrove. But in return, you have to do something for me.”

Billy's nodding before he can even really register what’s being said. Anything. He'd do whatever this pretty boy asked as long as he keeps touching Billy like this. Gentle, with a reverence no one has ever bothered to show.

“I need you to kick this little shit back into the hole he crawled out of. Can you do that for me Billy? I wanna see how your story pans out trouble maker. Wanna see what you do when someone gives you a chance.”

Billy nods again, breathless. The boy chuckles, the sound saccharine. Like warm honey dripping down his spine.

“Gunna have to use your words baby.”

Billy swallows, the click of his dry throat loud in the warm personal bubble they’ve created.

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll do it. Whatever you want pretty boy, please.”

It comes out a whisper but the boy hears it all the same. The boy smiles bright, pulls Billy forward. Soft warm lips press against his own and Billy is floating. He's never been kissed like this before. Slow and deep, the boy's tongue pressing in to curl and slide. Stuff him full. Billy's shaking for a whole other reason now. Reaches out to grip the boy's coat, cool to the touch where Billy is burning. Fire rushing through his veins, and he's already so close just from this. Whimpers brokenly into the kiss.

The boy pulls him in impossibly closer, slots his thigh between Billy’s legs, pushes up up up. And Billy is right fucking there, grinds down as he swaps spit with an old god in his shitty bedroom with the peeling yellow paint and the door that locks from the outside. Can feel the tell tale tingle spreading behind his navel.

“ ‘m gunna cum! Fuck, more please!” Billy mumbles curses into the kiss, breath hitching as his balls draw tight. The boy smiles against his mouth, yanks his curls back to bite into the meat of his neck and Billy’s gone, pulsing rope after rope of cum into his underwear.

“Oh my- .. Fuuuuuck. Yes! Uhhhnn!” He's panting like a dog as he slumps forward into the boys shoulder. Gentle fingers card through his hair as aftershocks zap up and down his body. A kiss is pressed behind his ear, a soft warmth flooding his core. He can't feel the shadow anywhere.

“So good for me sweet thing. Makes me want to keep you.”

It's said so quiet, like the boy doesn’t intend for it to be heard. Billy presses his face into his neck. There's no heartbeat under the boy's skin.

“You could. I want you to.” Whoever this is, whatever he is, he came for Billy. Answered his literal cry for help when no one else did. He doesn't know what he has to offer but he wants to give this impossible boy everything.

The boy in question hums. Brings Billy's left hand up to kiss the back of it. His skin feels hot under his lips, bordering on uncomfortable. Like stepping on sun scorched pavement. When the boy pulls back there’s a tattoo on his hand. A strange design that looks vaguely like a compass. It's the same mark as the one on the middle of the rune sitting behind them.

“I haven't given my mark to someone quite so special in a while. Try not to disappoint me Billy Hargrove.”

The boy goes to pull away but Billy still has his hand clenched tight on his coat. Panic wells up in his chest. Doesn't want to end whatever this is quite yet.

“Wait! What’s-…what's your name?” Which is a valid question he thinks. And probably one he should have asked at some point before he started grinding his dick on the guys leg. Oh well.

“I've had many names, none if which would hold any significance for you. Call me what you want trouble maker. I'll be there when you need me.”

Billy believes him. Then between one blink and the next the boy is gone, tendrils of dissipating smoke the only evidence he was ever there. A deep voice whispers from nowhere and everywhere.

“Ask your sister about the monsters in the woods.”

On the shrine the only thing that remains is the rune, both his gifts having apparently been accepted. Billy gives a hysterical bark of laughter at the thought of some higher being listening to Fleetwood Mac somewhere out in the void. It gives him an idea. He drags his lips across the fresh mark on his hand, mumbles into his skin.

“Thanks Stevie.”

#i don't know what this is but here ya go!#Outsider!Steve #Billy Hargrove #harringrove #dishonored au #yes Billy gets powers but i haven't decided what they are yet #that hoe writes #stranger things #Neil you better watch out my boy has a literal old god for a boyfriend now

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

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In My Dreams

Characters: Albedo, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,082

Warnings: Waking dreams, amnesia, visions/hallucinations

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. Tried to be detailed with warnings, tell me if you want me to tag anything else.

Albedo

When you’d first met Albedo you were in awe of his intellect, his passion for alchemy which he honed to a fine point. He had a way of talking about the world around him and himself in a way that was utterly self-assured. This captivated you, made you wish to develop the same thing in turn; the ability to know oneself was an enviable one.

The old Mondstadt ruins were a perfect sketching place. Filled with an old sense of magic, even centuries after its fall, there was an atmosphere to it absolutely perfect for painting. Or so Albedo said – though you found some joy in intermittent sketching you were no master of the art.

While Albedo set up his easel you went around the edge of your little spot, making sure that the monsters that usually dominated the place were at least far away enough as to not cause any interference. The world around you was one of almost perfect peace, the lazy breeze acting as a buffer for the slight heat, the puffy clouds in the sky shading you from the worst of the sunlight.

“It’s such a beautiful day!” You called out. “It almost makes you forget all your worries.”

“That’s certainly true.” Albedo voice called out in reply. “Truly a wonderful time to paint.”

Turning around to join your partner you suddenly felt heard a familiar cackle. Whirling around you found yourself face to face with a hydro Abyss Mage. Annoyance flashed through your mind as your summoned your catalyst. Though the Abyss was certainly a syndicate to be worried about, you couldn’t help but think of the Mage in front of you as little more than a pest, for surely there couldn’t be anything more annoying than the sudden interruption of your outing.

Calling out Albedo’s name you held out your arms, cursing the fact that your bursts of electro weren’t as effective against the Mage’s shield as you’d like it to be. Thankfully a familiar cry of “be careful!” could be heard, as your partner quickly approached, sword in hand, eyes full of the cold determination which was so familiar to you in battle. The combination of your this with his swings soon had the shield dripping, before it burst apart, falling onto the ground in a puddle of water. Standing over the mage Albedo narrowed his eyes.

“Now this is new.”

Following his gaze you could see what he meant. Emblazoned on the side of the Abyss Mage’s robe was a star, made up of a myriad of silver threads jutting out from a red circle in which sat a crown ringed by indecipherable writing. The symbol made you pause, made you take a shaky step back as your throat began to constrict painfully. That symbol, you knew that symbol, you knew that crown. What was it? What was this Abyss Mage wearing?

Albedo appeared somewhat oblivious of your violent reaction, slashing through the Abyss Mage until they disappeared in a puff of ash. Turning around you could see the same mild mannered smile on his face as always, his expression almost one of soft embarrassment. Taking a deep breath you attempted to relax your features, hoping your partner wouldn’t see the panic that laced through you.

“That was an unpleasant surprise. Let’s go back to the clearing, we deserve a little bit of rest.”

“You’re right; that really was a nasty surprise.” You let out a soft laugh, not looking behind at the spot where the Mage had fallen as you allowed Albedo to guide you back towards his easel and away from that too familiar star.

-----

The symbol wouldn’t leave you alone however. Though the rest of the day was perfectly pleasant, the art Albedo had managed to begin showing the immense promise it always did, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Over and over the star danced behind your eyelids, taunting you with hidden information. You knew that the writing was nothing familiar to Teyvat, Albedo himself admitting he’d never seen such a script before. And yet you had; though the memory eluded you the knowledge remained.

You didn’t like to be reminded of your past, of the world that had disappeared before your fingers. It was a world you could barely remember, though surely that was a blessing. Your family had been murdered after all, though you didn’t know why you were sure that they were long dead. Who wants to be the last of anything? Certainly you didn’t want to be. Life was a lonely enough road already; better to focus on the bright future ahead of you than always turning to look back.

And yet the star remained.

You told Albedo that you were simply going out to look for supplies, having noticed no few veins of crystal ore near where the two of you had spent an afternoon. Batting away his questions and his worries you set out with purpose. It wouldn’t take that long, waypointing did most of the job. And you could hardly say that you feared a Ruin Guard or some such thing. You could take care of yourself, and you’d done worse things than take a midnight expedition to an abandoned ruin.

Old Mondstadt looked different in the dark, though perhaps that shouldn’t have surprised you. Old secrets always came out in the night, and the now crumbling city was certainly filled with old secrets. Now they beckoned at you, calling out their siren song, promising an answer to all your questions.

Standing in the middle of one of the stone circles you closed your eyes. Something seemed to be buzzing around you, an energy, a promise. Letting your mind drift you saw the star once more. Reaching out your arm you could almost touch its surface, studded with precious gems, smooth and fragile and a symbol of an old power.

You barely noticed the music at first, so soft was it. And yet somehow you began to move, to dance, following a long forgotten rhythm. Opening your eyes you saw a scene begin to unfold around you, shaping itself out of the dark. You were in a large room now, smooth marble under your feet. Looking up you saw an amber ceiling, You marveled at the intricate design, the flowers which bloomed beneath your feet while golden clouds floated above your head. For a moment you were so entranced by this familiar scene that you took no notice of the people around you, however the moment they entered your vision you could think of nothing else.

They were so familiar, these ghosts of the past. Though you couldn’t make out any of their features, which seemed misty and constantly changing, you felt an immediate sense of recognition. Wandering among these ghosts, you found yourself copying their steps, waltzing with no one but yourself, surrounded by a sea of memory. You felt like you were floated, wrapped in the fabric of the past, so real you could practically feel the fabric of your uniform changing beneath your fingertips, morphing into silk.

Still feeling as if there was more to be seen you looked around, finally finding the answer to your unspoken question at the top of a small group of stairs. Though the specters around you had no discernable features the same could not be said of the people who now gazed down at you, peaceful smiles upon their faces. One of them, a young man who looked to be a little older than you, stepped off the small landing, practically floating as he made his way towards you. There was a familiar star on his uniform, and a comforting smile in his eyes. Bowing softly he took your hand. No words were necessary, you both knew this dance.

The music swelled around you, almost saccharine in tone, coated by the sweetness of a long forgotten nostalgia. You made no attempt to talk to the boy, feeling that words were altogether unnecessary. After all, what could one say to a shadow of the past? There was nothing to muse on, no moments of happiness which you could conjure. There was nothing except familiar company and soothing music; right now that was enough.

Slowly you could feel the world slow down, almost as if the air had grown thicker. A drowsiness washed over you, but you pushed it down. This was a memory of the past after all, something precious to be savored, not something one could simply wake up from. And yet the dance slowed to its end and eventually you were left standing in the middle of the room, looking at the boy who you knew had once been your family.

A look of mischief crossed over his peaceful face, and he leaned in to whisper something to you. “Ferme les yeux sit u veux voir” the words passed over you in blissful familiarity, and you smiled up at this unknown family member, the heaviness around you feeling like a thick blanket. You wanted to know more. You wanted to know your family.

“Hey.”

A familiar voice broke through your reverie, the scene around you tearing apart like tissue paper as Albedo grasped on to your wrist. Whirling around to face him you found your eyes scanning your now gloomy surroundings, as if looking for an opening that might return you to that peaceful room.

“What happened?”

Albedo’s voice was full of gentle concern, and you leaned into his touch as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. And yet you still felt an overwhelming sense of loss, a sadness that pierced through your soul like a dagger.

“I’m sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong. I only wish to know why you were dancing with yourself at midnight.”

“I… I was dreaming.”

“Dreaming?” Albedo raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you gazed out upon the ruins, “I was dreaming. And yet it was so real, I hardly realized I’d fallen into it.”

“How odd.”

“Yes, I don’t know how it happened. Maybe I’m just tired.”

“Perhaps.”

And yet you knew that wasn’t the end of it. Lying on the bed you shared with Albedo, listening to the familiar sound of soft breathing, you gazed up at the ceiling, conjuring faces on the white stone, you mind ceaselessly dancing to a somehow familiar tune.

After that you seemed to fall into dreams more and more, stepping into them as easily as one might walk into the sea. It was small at first. Figures at the corner of your eyes, a sign that turned into that now all too familiar symbol, the sense of one more walking on marble. It was easy enough to ignore, after all you were probably just a little burnt out. However within a few weeks these dreams were becoming more and more difficult to ignore.

The first time it happened was when you were gathering berries. Suddenly the ground shifted beneath you and you were once more in that room, once more surrounded by familiar strangers, once more reaching out to your family. You began to recognize them more and more: the lines of worry that painted your mother’s otherwise smiling face, the way your father stroked his beard quickly, putting his arm back down quickly as to keep his ramrod stance; the way your brother stood a little ways away from the rest, and always approached you even when the others held back. You had no way of verifying the truth of any of these dreams, no way of knowing whether or not these were memories of merely fantasies. Yet how real they were, how real and how terribly disorienting.

A blanket of paranoia settled over you as you continued to fall into these dreams again and again. Every waking moment was a moment of chance, when you might suddenly once more disappear into the realm of dreams. Commissions became almost impossible, you teetered your way from one destination to another, sometimes barely able to dodge the attacks of treasure hoarders and Fatui members. It seemed as if these dreams were no longer revealing information to you, but instead holding you hostage. You always managed to fall when dealing with the Abyss.

Eventually you handed in a letter of leave to Katherine, trying to bat off her questions as you explained that you were finding the work overwhelming. It wasn’t like you were lying anyways; the work was overwhelming. How could it not be, when you could never trust yourself? Trudging back to your apartment that afternoon you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. It was so frustrating, it was so frustrating to lose oneself.

You no longer felt sure, no longer felt the self-assurance that you’d once known. Who were you? What in Teyvat, what in the vast universe had happened to you? You’d accepted your lack of memories, accepted the fact that whatever you escaped was something lost to the sands of time. You never wanted the past to be dragged in front of you, thrown at your feet as you stared at it in horrified fascination. And yet you hadn’t learned anything, not really. All you’d managed to do was shatter what little confidence you’d had in who you were.

“You shouldn’t run away from this.”

The voice was that of a stranger, yet filled with a strange familiarity. Raising your head up you saw your brother appear in front of you, a sole figure against a sea of black.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re trying to run away, you’re trying to forget your destiny.”

“And what destiny is that, what could the past of a destroyed land tell me about my future now?”

“Many things, if you’d let it talk.”

“I already know that I have to be careful, that I cannot take things for granted. These visions, they do nothing but harm me.”

“Your frustration should have nothing to do with us and everything to do with them.”

“Them?”

“The people who slaughtered our family. The gods who stood by and said nothing. Did you not wonder why the Abyss Mage should be sporting such a crest? They’re the only answer. If you weren’t so blind you’d be able to see that.”

“The Abyss is full of monsters, they only bring destruction.”

“Destruction?” Your brother snorted, a cruel expression marring his face, its intensity and hatred something you were sure hadn’t existed before. “No more destruction than the gods have caused. At least the Abyss wishes to right a wrong. Should a crime not be avenged?”

“… This isn’t what you were like.” You shook your head violently, something welling up inside you, something threatening to snap. “I no longer recognize you.”

“You don’t remember me. How can you say what I was once like?”

“I can, I simply can. How do we recognize the people destined to be our family? We simply can.”

“You always were such a simpleton; even now you refuse to understand the evils of the world.”

“I refuse to contribute to them.”

“You know nothing of the world.”

“She knows a great deal more than you.” Albedo’s voice rippled through the nothingness of your dream. Appearing besides you the world shimmered around him, your vision tearing at the seams as you returned to the real world.

“And who are you to say that?” Your brother sneered. “You carry enough rage in your heart, if you even have one alchemist.”

“Perhaps I don’t have one.” Albedo’s voice was calm, grounding you as you stepped towards him. “And yet it would be better to have no heart than a rotten one.”

“We’ll see if you hold that same opinion when the Abyss once rises up.” Your brother smiled, gaze once more fixing on you, eyes pinpricks of rage. “I hope you’ll join me someday sister. If you do then you might finally see us all again. And if not, I’ll see you one day on the battlefield.”

You shook slightly, watching mutely as his figured faded into the wall of your apartment. Sinking down on the nearest couch you let out a few shaky breaths, trying to process what had just happened.

“I trust he’ll no longer come to haunt you.” Albedo sat next to you, a glass of water somehow in his hand.

“I hope not.”

“This is what you meant when you said you were dreaming, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It was different this time however. Usually, usually no one else can see them.”

“Perhaps he wanted it to be that way.”

“Perhaps.” You shook your head, staring down at the palms of your hands. “I don’t know.”

“What do you not know?”

“Everything! I… I no longer know who I am. I’d always thought that I knew myself, that you had helped me realize the need to do so. Now however, now I have no clue. My family, if they’re dead so be it. I’d rather it be that way then, well I’m not sure what this is.”

“I think you know who you are.” Albedo’s eyes were earnest as her stared at you. “You have created your own life, your own sense of self. I don’t know what your brother was hoping to do – or what he thinks you should be – but he cannot change who you are. You’re your own being after all.”

You pondered Albedo’s response, the familiar confidence of his tone, the way he seemed to be stating fact rather than opinion. And perhaps he was right, he often was.

“What if the dreams come back?” You whispered.

“Then I’ll find a way to fight them off.” Albedo took your hand. “You shouldn’t have to suffer for the dreams of your brother, of a past you cannot remember. You shouldn’t be made to feel an artificial vengeance.”

It was all the encouragement that needed to be said. Throwing your arms around Albedo you closed your eyes, resting your head against his shoulder.

The past was something still alive, threads and hooks that dug into your skin and pulled you backwards, away from the place you’d made your own. It was a beautiful façade yes, but that didn’t hide its superficiality. A constructed past, one imagined by an unreliable narrator, could never be trusted, could never be learned from. What could be known was what you’d already built, the relationships that defined yourself now.

Perhaps you would never truly know the past. But as long as you knew yourself, that was all that mattered.

-------

The symbol that the reader sees is essentially the badge of the Order of Sainll Catherine. This was a Russian order bestowed upon Grand Duchesses at birth and given to others such as Princesses of the Blood upon special dates or conditions. The only order higher than it was the Order of Saint Andrew, which was reserved for men excepting the Empress. I will link a picture in the reblog.

The song I used is La berceuse d’Ahtohallan. The lyrics translate roughly to: “Close your eyes if you wish to see.”

The room that I used as reference is a combination of various Winter Palace rooms and the Amber Room, which has actually been lost to time due mainly to destruction during WWII. We don’t actually know exactly where it is/was.

#genshin impact fanfiction #albedo x reader #albedo #genshin impact #genshin albedo #waking dreams #amnesia #visions #hallucinations #requested #scenarios #my writing

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rodeoxqueen · 4 years

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Stuck Thinking Of You-Vergil/Reader

TheLastCrusader Requested: Dante or Vergil gets immobilized in some embarrassing or inconvenient way during a job and then (Y/N) pays them company until they can be freed. How about they have a crush on (Y/N) and they don't know it is returned until the end?

Dante’s Version:https://rodeoxqueen.tumblr.com/post/638040898096201728/stuck-thinking-about-you-dantereader

Read Both Versions on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28187496

Warnings: Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Taking Care of The Twins, Vulnerability, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Characters Call Out The Writer for Her Lazy Writing

One Way To Dante's Heart Is His Stomach. For His Brother, It Is Not As Simple.

Slicing through groups of demons while twirling in the air, Vergil obliterated his enemies. He landed deftly onto the blood-soaked ground. His brother Dante had shot through another horde himself.

After minimal time spent fighting, the infamous duo already prepared themselves to go home, a job well done.

“You should join a circus for how much spinning and jumping you do.” Dante quipped. Vergil raised a brow.

“With a face as hideous as yours, you would be an excellent freak show exhibit.” The elder twin snarled.

Dante laughed, hands on his hips.

“Oh please, I’m the prettier twin. My hairline hasn’t flinched, unlike yours.” Vergil stilled.

“I’ll have you know-” Dante saw a demon Vergil had sliced into slowly raising its tail. It was spiked with various deadly purple needles swishing about. Disemboweled yet still alive, it hissed and whipped its tail. A whistle rang through the air as foot-long spikes flew through the air.

“-Look out!” Dante quickly shot the demon, its head caving in like a rotten pumpkin. Vergil dodged the dart-like appendages, a mildly displeased look on his face.

“You’re getting sloppy, Vergil.” Dante teased, shaking his coat of any poisonous darts.

“If you weren’t so exhausting to deal with, I’d-” Vergil suddenly tensed and fell to the ground. He landed knees first before his torso and head slid onto the earth. Dante let out a breath, and then he wheezed out a laugh.

“Oh my god, Vergil!” Vergil attempted to move from his embarrassing position, face down and rear pointed to the sky.

“What on earth? I cannot move.” He felt numb as if he had lost control of his form. Had he missed a dart?

Dante came around his brother’s kneeled over position. Right on his posterior, had a stray dart pierced him.

“Poor Vergil, as if a stick up your ass wasn’t enough.” Vergil’s sounds of struggle were fruitless as his form was dumbly paralyzed.

“Don’t you dare say it-”

“jAcKpOt!” Dante wheezed and held onto his sword to prevent him from falling over and crying with laughter.

“Help me at once, you oaf!” Vergil exclaimed. Dante wiped away tears of joy.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He vanished The Rebellion and gently kicked his brother to the side. Vergil landed on the dirt looking like he was in a fetal position. Dante continued laughing the whole way down the mountain, carrying Vergil over his shoulder.

“This is incredibly undignified.” Vergil snarled.

“Wait till (Y/N) finds out you got shot in the ass-”

“You will do no such thing!” Vergil exclaimed.

You were on the couch, reading a book when Dante kicked the door down.

“Guess whaaaat!” He yelled, holding Vergil over his shoulder. He marched his way over to the beat-up sofa, gesturing for you to move over. You scooched to the end, Vergil was tossed onto the cushions.

“Vergil, are you alright?” You asked, seeing how he refused to make eye contact with you.

“Big brother here got jabbed by some demon. He’s not dead yet so I doubt it’s that bad.”

Dante reached into his pocket, steadily taking out the needle that he took out of Vergil’s behind.

He threw it like a toy dart and it landed on his desk.

Vergil remained silent, simply biding his time before he could forget about his embarrassing ordeal.

“Wouldn’t he be more comfortable in his room?” You asked, knowing Vergil always took to his room after a mission. Despite your many attempts to make conversation, he was quick to leave before any talk could be initiated.

“Nah, I need you to keep an eye on him. I’m going to do whatever I want now that he can’t stop me.”

“If you are going out and gorging yourself on those unhealthy sundaes again-”

Dante made an evil laugh as he ran out of the shop.

Vergil sighed. This was terrible. He watched as you examined the needle, opening your computer and a few books.

Half an hour passed of pure silence, you flipping through books and seeing what on earth caused Vergil to stiffen up like a corpse.

“Vergil, are you alright?” You asked again, seeing how still he was.

“What does it look like?” He snapped.

You raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed again.

“My apologies. I am not very comfortable trapped in my own body.” You nodded.

“Well, it says here that the demon that poisoned you could kill men in a second upon injection.”

“Joy.” Vergil deadpanned. You chuckled at his expression. Vergil softened at your laughter.

“Since you’re still alive, I’m guessing your demon side is working really hard to get all that toxic stuff out of you.”

“The blood of Sparda will not wane to a petty demon.” He said lowly.

It wasn’t for an hour until Vergil felt his form begin to feel sensation. His hands barely twitched despite the sweat he built up from trying to move.

Your demon side..

Vergil remembered your comment. A spark of genius hit him. If he devil triggered, he might be able to metabolize the toxins faster. He willed it within himself, grunting and trying to trigger.

He could feel his senses slightly amplify as if his triggering process was truly forcing the poison out. Suddenly, the warm surge of his blood flowing became known to him. Yes! This was working.

With more heaving and straining, he felt his arms slowly loosen from his sides and his legs straighten out.

“Uhhh. Vergil?” Distracted, he felt his muscles tense again and as a final resort, his reflexes rolled him off the couch. The back of his head flared out in pain as he hit the floor. He laid on the ground, a defeated blue devil. It was pathetic, he couldn’t even trigger his scales to come out. Grumbling, he noticed you standing near him, looking down with concern.

“Do you need help?”

"It appears that I am stuck."

"Do you want some help?"

"I don't want your help, I’m fine."

"All right, then.”

"...."

“Are you sure you don’t want to be moved?” Vergil sighed and closed his eyes.

"That..would be preferable.”

You rolled up your sleeves, ready to lift him up. He smirked.

“You should have just said so, silly!” You grin as you place your hand on his back and the pit of his knees.

“I’m afraid I am not that light, surely lifting me would-” He stopped as you literally bridal carried him.

“-be toiling…..” He flushed at close proximity of you.

“How are you this strong?” He blurted.

“The writer wanted to have a reverse damsel in distress scene. I will never exhibit this strength in future plot lines.” You said sweetly, looking at him with a smile.

Vergil stopped, staring at your face. Although he was stone-faced as usual, his eyes drank in your wonderful features. It took him a minute to realize you had said something.

“What did you just say?”

“Hmm? Oh, I was asking if you wanted to be sitting up or on your side.”

“..Sitting upright would be fine.”

You placed him on the sofa again.

“Is there anything you want while you’re in this situation?” Vergil tried to shrug.

“It’s fine. I will abide by my time.”

“You don’t have to be bored, I can play something if you want.”

“Such as what?” You pointed to your computer.

“I have an audiobook subscription. If you like, I can play some William Blake poetry.” Vergil raised a brow. He had never been an avid user of technology. If he were to hear any recited poetry it’d be from his own whispers.

“You also read Blake’s works?”

“I know you do.” Oh, you thoughtful little sparrow.

“That would be alright with me.” You were quick to type away on your computer to find a recording. Soon, a male voice permeated the air, reading off verses robotically.

It was a bit of an awkward moment, Vergil’s continued stone face and you observed it gravely. The recording ended shortly as you paused it.

“You don’t seem to like it.”

“Poetry should be spoken, not read off of like an instructions’ manual.”

“How would you do it then?” Vergil took his chance. You were not keen on working now, focused on him instead.

“My book. It’s in my room. Retrieve it and I shall demonstrate myself.” He teased, a ghost of a grin upon his face. Damn this paralysis.

You left, rounding up the stairs.

You entered his room, making sure not to knock anything over. Not that you really could, the room was pristine. You easily saw the brown leather book on the dresser. The leather was well-worn and soft to the touch, a single page dog-eared.

“So, you’re Mr. Poetry, huh?” You teased as you went down the stairs.

“The one and only.” Vergil did not miss the old reference to Griffon, the dear bird you cried over.

You made your way to the couch, sitting on the arm of the sofa.

“Now which page?” You asked. Vergil stared at you.

“Just start from the beginning.” You obediently flipped to the first page.

“So do you want to read it?”

“How am I supposed to hold it up?” Vergil smirked at your sputters.

“I keep forgetting!” You made your way over to him, choosing to sit on the floor by him.

He cleared his throat.

“I was angry with my friend:

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow

And I watered it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears;

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,

Till it bore an apple bright.

And my foe beheld it shine.

And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole

When the night had veiled the pole;

In the morning glad I see

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.”

Vergil’s voice had a timber, soothing lowness to his usually raspy tone. He was in the zone, eyes blank as he had read this millions of times.

“It’s a nice poem. It’s a bit brutal though.” You commented.

“It is.”

This went on for some time, Vergil reciting while you observed and turned the pages for him. You stopped between to grab yourself and Vergil some water, giving him a blue bendy straw. As the clock hands went around, soon one voice grew the soft company of another. The crest and the trough of tones had embraced, two speakers and one poem. Eventually, you met the unique page from before.

“The Garden of Love

I went to the Garden of Love.

And saw what I never had seen:

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,

And Thou shalt not, writ over the door;

So I turn’d to the Garden of Love,

That so many sweet flowers bore,

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be:

And priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars, my joys ; desires.”

You tried to copy Vergil, reading off of the page, and avoiding stuttering. The observer shakily held the harp of their own vocal cords, the previous strummer lounging and watching the words take flight above his blue-eyed gaze like flittering sparrows.

By the time you were finished with the last verse, you turned to see that Vergil’s eyes were directed at you. It’s too bad you didn’t know they were upon you for some time. You gently grazed the dog-eared page.

“Why did you mark this page?”

“It is a poem that reminds me of another.” You were slightly puzzled but smiled nonetheless.

“Well, they’re very lucky to be beheld, I guess.” Vergil stared at you, his eyes bewitched to your profile. With the slope of your face, Vergil swore even the most wonderful sculptors could not capture you to your truest attractiveness.

“I am luckier to have been in their company for the last few hours.” He rasped. You turned your face, a privilege Vergil wished he could have, to prevent from seeing a negative reaction from you.

“Me?” You softly said. The book was forgotten, landing on Vergil’s chest.

“I understand I do not speak to you as much as I wish. I am not as socially affable as my brother. But I do share my affections upon you, in words not of my own. In my most vulnerable, I find cherished company with you.”

You were quiet.

“If that’s not the case with you, I am in complete understanding. You are a kind person. You would do the same for my brother if he was in the same situation. I do not wish for this to be ill to our cooperation in this business-”

“Say less.” You giggled, putting your finger on his lips to shush him. Vergil scrunched his nose as his ears turned red, had he said too much? Had he made a fool of himself?

Instead, he had seen the color of pink, a shade even the finest roses could not bloom to, appear upon the apples of your cheeks.

“I like you too, Vergil. I didn’t do all that for you to just be nice. I like getting to know you.” Despite his numbness, his heartbeat in his chest felt like the rain of an angry storm against the earth.

His chapped lips found the capacity to move.

“Perhaps, when this wretched poison leaves my form, we may find time to do this again.”

“I’d like that too.” Your eyes squinting with a diamond grin, Vergil made a noise of contentment.

“It is a day I look forward to-“

“I had so much ice cream today!” Dante yelled as he walked into the shop again.

“Whoops, you guys look like you were having a nice moment.” Dante winked at Vergil, who growled.

“Oh hey, Dante!”

Dante waved at you.

“I got you guys some dinner since I know (Y/N)’s tired of dealing with shithead here. Vergil couldn’t cook for shit even when he was able-bodied.”

“I can boil an egg.” Vergil bit back. Dante handed you some Asian takeout, still warm.

“Don’t worry Verg, I’ll blend yours so you can drink it.”

“It’s fine, I can help him.” You winked at Dante who waggled his eyebrows.

The evening ended fairly well. You fed Vergil bits of vegetables and noodles while Dante read his questionable magazines. It was much too late to be going back home, so Dante threw you some blankets and pillows to stay the night.

Although Vergil offered you his room to rest in, you shook your head.

“Who’s going to keep you company?” Dante wolf-whistled before retreating to his room upstairs.

“Leave us!” Vergil exclaimed. You laughed again.

You turned off the lights and dodged random objects lying around in the dark. You found the familiar softness of pillows and your makeshift bed.

Vergil fell asleep, feeling wanted. It was a warm sensation that spread to even his fingers, soft and supple.

He didn’t even notice his hand had come loose and drifted to trace your cheek in both your slumbers.

#vergil x reader #vergil #vergil sparda #dmc headcanons #dmc imagines #dmc dante #dante sparda #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #request #ao3 writer #ao3fic #ao3 link #ao3 fic

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literaryfic · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, vincenzo leaves, set five years after he left sk, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending 

Summary: “She’d buried him next to the false hopes and broken promises he’d given her, growing her resentment and longing in the same garden as his missing corpse, taunting reminder of her failure to make him stay. Occasionally, she would revisit his empty tomb and greet his ghost, tormenting him with the same question over and over again; why?”

Chapter two is out! Read on ao3 or under the cut.

“Have you been well, Cha-young?”, the same deep voice she’d missed asks. The ghost that’s been haunting her came back in the flesh.

He hasn’t aged at all, his youthful face still handsome as ever. He’s not smiling per se, but she can tell he’s happy to see her. She gets up and walks away. This couldn’t possibly be happening.

He catches up to her after a few seconds.

“Cha-young-ah. Hong Cha-young. Talk to me.”, he urges her. Suddenly, she can’t control her anger anymore.

“Talk to you?”, she faces him. “You made it extremely clear five years ago that we had nothing to say to each other.”, she screams. His face is unreadable, years apart have made him a stranger. “And now what? You want me to talk to you? You disappeared on me out of nowhere and never looked back so don’t you dare ask anything of me, got it?”

Panting, the anger she thought gone felt just as hot as the day he left her.

“Fuck!”. She’s not done yet. How could he come back like nothing ever happened? He had given her shelter, just to make her homeless. He had made her believe in love and happy endings, built her a castle and set it on fire. She hated him, his stupid hair and his stupid face. “Why are you doing this to me now? I don’t get it. Why now?” She starts crying out of anger, out of frustration, out of exhaustion.

For years now Cha-young had spent all her energy trying to forget Vincenzo and what they could have been. She had fooled herself into thinking she was over him but even after all this time, even when she was this angry at him, all she wanted to do was to touch him. She felt like she’d been cursed by the Gods, condemned to have him in her sight, yet forever out of reach.

She’s shaking now, sobbing. Vincenzo slowly approaches her, his eyes full of anguish.

“Can I please hold you?”, he almost begs as a single tear runs down his cheek. She doesn’t remember a time where he’d sounded this desperate, and she nods, almost against her will.

He wraps his arms around her, her head falls on his chest. She takes a deep breath, filling her nose and lungs with his scent, the one she hasn’t been able to forget. Somehow, she’s crying even harder now and he starts stroking her hair. “I’m sorry,”, he whispers. “I’ve missed you so much.”

She can’t quite convince herself yet that this is not a dream, so she holds him tight, afraid that the ocean will swallow him and turn him into foam.

They stay in each other’s embrace for a while. It could be minutes or hours, Cha-young doesn’t really know. It seems that tonight, on this beach, her grasp on her reality is loosening. Dreams and ghosts come to her in waves, and she can’t help but wonder when the tide will recede.

In the beginning, she dreamt that he would stay with her. Cha-young thought herself strong enough to anchor Vincenzo, yet he had fled and renounced her. Then, she had dreamed of his return, punished to share the fate of a seamen’s wife awaiting her husband’s homecoming.

He had chosen to leave and, until now, had never bothered to come back, and so after a while she had declared him lost at sea. She’d buried him next to the false hopes and broken promises he’d given her, growing her resentment and longing in the same garden as his missing corpse, taunting reminder of her failure to make him stay. Occasionally, she would revisit his empty tomb and greet his ghost, tormenting him with the same question over and over again; why? The ghost stayed mum, mere fragment of a person who had once been alive.

Yet, here he was, the one she had lost at sea, standing in front her. There was no doubt that it was him, alive and well. She felt herself regain control over her emotions and stepped out of his arms.

“You owe me an explanation”, she demands, looking him in the eyes. He nods slowly, his face serious. He is about to speak when she cuts him off, “Not here.” Here, where dreams become reality and prayers were heard. “Take me to your room”.

And so he does. They walk back to the hotel in complete silence, the sea breeze clearing up her foggy mind. They go up to the very last floor and Cha-young almost laughs. Their rooms are exactly a floor apart.

When they get inside, Vincenzo invites her to sit on the couch while he settles for a nearby armchair. The suite is as big as an apartment and the view of the ocean is stunning. It suddenly dawns on Cha-young that he’d probably been living in luxury for the past 5 years, and why wouldn’t he when he was that rich, but the thought annoys her. As petty as it sounds, she had wanted him to be miserable, just as she had been.

“Why?”

The question that had been haunting her hangs in the air for a while, and at one point she thinks he might leave it unanswered.

“That time I ended up staying, I’d managed to take care of the situation in Italy, but it was temporary solution. I needed to come back to save our family from being killed off.” He explained, choosing each word carefully. She could tell he was nervous, his eyes scanning her face, looking for cues.

“That explains why you had to leave, but that’s not what I was asking, Joo-hyung-ah.”

He looks like she’d just slapped him across the face, and she might as well have. She had never called his Korean name in such a harsh tone before. No, this name had been reserved for their most intimate moments, when she made love to him and played with his hair afterwards, as he fell asleep in her arms, when he told her about the few memories he had with his mother, or described his life in Italy with his adoptive parents. It was the first she had used his name as a weapon, and he looked devastated. Good.

He takes a shaky breath and bites his lip, trying to hold back his tears. In that moment, he looks as old as the world and as weak as a child. Although it pains her to look at him like this, she shows no compassion. This man had destroyed her and she would hold him accountable.

“I left without telling you because I didn’t trust myself to go through with it.”, he finally manages to say after a while. “I had to leave but I just couldn’t bring myself to let you go.”

“You’re a coward, Mr. Cassano.”, she spits out his name, hoping the formality of it would hurt him too.

“I know.”

“Why did you have to leave me? I get that you needed to go back, but why did you have to leave me too?” Cha-young tries to stay as calm as possible, but it proves difficult when she keeps blurting out her most vulnerable thoughts. She feels defenceless against him, but it is the only way she’ll get the answers she needs.

“Turns out the situation was even worse than what Luca had told me, and I wasn’t sure any of us would get out of it alive. You didn’t deserve to have to wait for me indefinitely.”

“So dropping me out of the blue was the best solution you came up with? That’s the only thing the great Vincenzo Cassano, one of the best masterminds in the game, could think of?” Her words are met by silence. “Guess what, genius? I still waited years for you. How was I supposed to get closure when you just disappeared? Wouldn’t you, out of all people, know what it feels like to be abandoned?”

It was a low blow, she had to admit, but she was past that. She needed to bring him to his knees, she needed to shatter him, she needed to break his heart.

“The truth is, I thought—I thought I was freeing you. From me, from my sins.” He’s not looking at her anymore, head hanging down, tears falling onto the ground. She compels her heart to look away, just this once, to not care for him.

“And who do you think you are? Do I not get to decide for myself?”, she’s almost screaming again. Everything that was coming out of his mouth sounded ridiculous to her.

Of course, she had imagined this confrontation countless of times, coming up with all the possible reasons he would use to justify what he did, but none of them mattered. None of them were enough to appease her, to undo what had been done. Nothing would ever repair what he’d broken and they’d never be the same again.

“I have no excuse, tesoro.” She hears the plea in his voice.

“Don’t call me that.” He looks at her, visibly in pain.

It was bizarre, seeing him like that, so hesitant, so vulnerable, so scared.

She realises it at once; she’s witnessing his fear for the first time. She hadn’t been able to spot it at first but there it was. He’d allowed her to see his anger, his sadness, his unfiltered joy but he’d never been afraid in front of her. Vincenzo was scared to mess this up, scared to loose her again. She had to hold back a smile.

“Did you follow me here? Don’t lie to me.” She demands, reinvigorated by her newly found confidence.

“I’d never lie to you.” She rolls her eyes at that. “I landed in Seoul two days ago, but Mr. Nam told me you’d be spending the next few weeks here, so I hopped on the first flight I found. Meeting you here, tonight, was an accident. I didn’t know which hotel you were staying in.” He looks to his right, suitcase opened on the floor, near the bedroom’s entrance.

“Why are you here, Vincenzo?”, she’s trying not to let her emotions seep through her words, to remain distant. But he knows her well, and she can tell by the way his eyes suddenly look at hers that he hears it, the part of her that wants him to answer “For you, I’m here for you.”.

“To repent. I’m here to repent, Cha-young-ah.”. His words carry the same certainty they once did, his tone the one of a fearless man. Her heart threatens to leap out of her chest.

“Do I look like a fucking church to you?”, she forces out a laugh she hopes sounds bitter. Not letting him time to reply, she gets up from the couch, feeling dizzy. “Right, I’ve heard enough. Goodbye.”

She can’t tell if he calls her name or goes after her but she’s out the door before she knows it. She runs down the stairs, gets into her room and heads straight in the shower. The water’s freezing cold, but she finds comfort in not being able to feel the tears streaming down her face.

She tucks herself into bed, confused about whether she’d rather wake up from this nightmare or continue to live this dream.

#vincenzo #chayenzo #vincenzo fic #my fic #chayenzo fic

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undercoverwizardfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Mud is Thicker Than Blood:

Sick Day

Summary: I said i’d put all the little shorts I have about the Mud Dogs and Donnie in one story, so here it is!

Gift for: @void-inked-pen birthday a while back. They are a amazing friend and a source of inspiration for me

Characters: Donatello, Loathsome Leonard, Mickey, Dastardly Danny, Myra, April O’Neil

Pairings: You’re in luck! all the pairings for this fic are just past this door [gestures to wall that has a badly painted door under it and the laundry basket above it that’s suppose to be some sort of trap]

“What is this supposed to be?”

Even though Len had been using as polite of a tone as possible, Danny still gives him a heated glare. He uses his spatula to scrape the blackened flat pastry off his frying pan and onto Len’s plate with the consistency of a dried brick. ”They’re called crespelle’s. My Dads used to make them for me and my siblings all the time.”

“Are they supposed to be…” Mickey pokes it with his flipper, “rocks?”

Danny lets out another angry huff. “I couldn’t remember the ingredients, alright??” he says, flipping another burnt disc onto a plate. Len uses his chopstick to poke at the burnt food. For someone who had known the sting of hunger many times and learned to not be picky, he finds himself wondering if he can sneak out back and compare the taste of the burnt disk to dirt.

The sounds of footsteps tells him the last member of their little family was coming down to join them. “Morning,” Danny calls. ”I got a nice big breakfast for my only grateful family member with taste!” Danny says as he starts stacking another plate.

Donnie is pulling on his hooded cardigan as he reaches the bottom step, eyeing the breakfast with a concerned eye. “Doooo I want to know?” he asks before looking to Len with a look that clearly says ‘remember how I never forget ‘best parents day’? you owe me’. It takes more than a little willpower to keep from laughing but manages to duck his head to hide his grin before turning to Danny.

“How about we spare my kid this time? He’ll never hit his height goals if he eats this.”

Danny unties his apron and stomps over and pours himself a cup of coffee all while grumbling about ‘uncultured swine.’ This time Len can't stop the snort that escapes him this time but when Donnie takes his spot at the table his smile falters as Donnie pours himself a cup of hot coffee. Leaning over the mug with a sigh, his normally dark jade complexion feels a shade lighter than usual and more than Len’s comfortable with. “You feeling ok?” he asks, moving his chair to Don’s side of the table. He puts an arm around Don's shoulders and without waiting for an answer he presses the back of his hand to Don’s cheek. The teen squirms at the contact but was unable to pull out of his grip.

“Dad, Dad, I'm fine I just didn’t sleep well. I had a bad dream again.”

“Why didn’t you come get me? You could have slept in my bed.”

“You got home late last night, I didn’t want to wake you,” Don says, still trying to twist his head away from Len’s hand.

“I’m the Dad here, Donnie. I’m supposed to worry about you, not the other way around.” But when he’s unable to find anything close to a fever he pulls away. He looks to Danny hoping he’d see something Len missed but the rat shrugs at him.

“Is it still ok to go tutor April today? Please? I’ve been cooped up here all winter.”

Len wants to say no, but sighs at the pleading look Donnie gives him. It had been a longer winter then usual, he didn’t blame his son for needing some space. He was no longer a five year old but he still had a hard time telling him no for no good reason. “Yeah, but if you start feeling sick you come home ok? Or ask Myra to help you home.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” As Donnie downs his last bit of coffee he stands back up. Len had turned to poke at his breakfast again when he feels Don's arms wrap around his collar bone and rest his cheek on Len’s head. “I love you Dad. Thanks for being obnoxious and worried.”

“Aw. Love you too, silly gecko.” Len pats his arm in reciprocated affection. Donnie grabs his shoulder back and hurries out the front door. “Have fun!” Len calls after him. Only then did he look back to Danny. “He looked pale right?”

“Yeah but honestly it could have been the breakfast,” Mickey says, picking up a disc, “I even felt sick when I saw it.”

“First of all screw you,” Danny points at Mickey with his spatula, “Second of all, if he’s not feeling well he’ll come home. And third of all, next time you all can make your own crespelles.” Danny drops his last disk onto a plate when the shattering of ceramic fills the air. The three thieves blink at each other for a sec before Danny raises up the food slowly to show the plate underneath had been cracked in half from the sheer force of the crepe. With a defeated sigh, Danny drops his spatula. “Ok whose all for throwing these at trees and seeing if they shatter??”

Len and Mickey both raise their hands with a grin.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

“Donnie?”

Despite the softness of April’s voice Don jumps so hard his elbow hits the stack of April’s school books. It’s only by his reflexes that they don’t join the rest of April’s dirty clothes on the floor. It takes him a few moments to regather his scattered thoughts before looking to April. ”Did you say something?”

“Yeah, your name, like five times.” His oldest friend peers at him from over her glasses. “Are you sure you’re feeling ok?”

Donnie would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t painfully aware of the migraine that would return if he did. Unfortunately, it had been haunting him ever since he woke up that morning. “For the last time yes. Uncle Danny made breakfast and it's just hurting my stomach. Now, the compound would be 23.6% more effective if you set the witch fire to exactly 129 degrees cinder.” He scribbles on the paper for a few moments before sliding it over to her. April casts him a suspicious look before looking over the paper again.

“If you ever convince your Dad to let you go to school, my Alchemy teacher would cry tears of joy. Again.” She pauses “They cry a lot.”

Don tries to smile but his aching head only allows him a half grin. As April starts adding his notes to hers he reaches for his yunomi of tea, not thirsty so much as needing the warmth for a subtle cold that clings to his skin.

There’s the sound of a door opening downstairs followed by the sound of a woman shrieking and dozens of items hitting the ground. ”A-April dear!!! I could use some help!” calls the unmistakable voice of the Mayor of witch town.

April was already out of her seat. “Coming Mom!” she calls hurrying for the door. “Don’t do my homework Dee!” she calls behind him.

“I would never!” Donnie says [even though he had already been reaching for her note book]. A few years ago he had the brilliant business idea, in lieu of being able to go to school himself, to do students' homework for them for a small [not so small] fee.

Of course before he could even launch his venture his Dad had found out and outright forbade it.

This time he’s unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The effect is instantaneous as the lights in the room become painfully saturated. He tries to cover his eyes but his world is already spinning.

It’s the last thing he feels before he blacks out

(#)#(#)

“I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed,” Len says in a tone that can only come from nine years of parenting experience. It does its job on Mickey who’s shoulders bunch up to the sides of his head, and even though Danny is trying to pull off ‘I don’t know how you think you can guilt trip me’ by leaning back in his seat. But it's hard to look innocent when the two of them are covered in mud.

“IT WAS DANNY’S FAULT!!” Mickey shrieks pointing at the rat. “After we knocked over a tree with one of his crepy things he told me that he knew alchemy that would make mud into chocolate and-and-“

Danny’s ‘calm bad boy’ dis option went out the window (which was also broken because of a wayward flying crepelle). “Who the hell raised you to be a snitch?!” the rat hisses.

“You did!! I learned it from watching you!”

The rat opens his mouth to argue before thinking. “Ok fine but I always taught you to get paid first.”

Len slaps a hand down his face. Normally he and Danny have reversed roles but he should have recognized that wild look in the rats eyes when Mickey was using one of the leftover crepelles as a tool sharpener. But Len, forgetting they were not in fact grown men but children pretending to be adults, had left them to their own devices.

There is a knocking on the door that makes Len sigh again. ”I have a fourteen year old and he has more common sense than you two.” He says in a way that is probably supposed to make them feel ashamed, but Mickey snorts loudly with his flippers over his mouth.

He opens the door to a flash of light that forces him to cover his eyes for a moment before his eyes adjust to the familiar form of the mayor of Witch Town. “Myrah?” He rubs at his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I need you to come get Doniel, he has a fever and passed out while tutoring April.”

Len felt as though a cold chill had passed through his body, it was the only reason he hesitated. “Y-yeah just give me a sec.” He ducks back into the house, where Danny is already waiting.

”Len what’s-“

“Donnie passed out, I need you to come with me,” already the air of lighthearted teasing and jabs went out the window. Len is back down the stairs with a quilt from Donnie’s bed as Danny is grabbing his coat and tossing Len his. He almost feels bad for Mickey who can only watch on as the two exit. Myra waves her wand, the bright light from earlier returns, creating a portal in front of them. Len barely waits for the portal to form before stepping through. A moment later he is standing in the familiar oversized living room. He had been to the witch family house many times and each time was always surprised how disproportionate all the furniture was, (which made sense considering how tall Amaranth was).

The child in question was lying on the bright pink sofa under a thick blanket. There was a washcloth hovering over his head, every few seconds wiping at his brow. April looks at them when they enter with panic in her eyes. “I don’t know what happened Lenny, I went to help mom with groceries and-and when I came back-“

“Its ok April, it's not your fault.” Len takes her place by Donnie. His son's brow is furrowed underneath a layer of perspiration. Even though he already knows the answer, he presses the back of his hand on Don’s brow. His already racing heart is now beating so fast it almost hurts in his chest. He replaces the blanket Myra had given him with the one he had brought, wrapping him up in it before scooping him up into his arms.

“I’m sorry Len, if Amaranth had been here she could help but...” her fingers tap together anxiously as she watches the child in his arms. Len was always touched by how much Myra and Amaranth cared for Donnie. He never felt the need to have a partner (though he and Donnie both made enough ‘mom’ jokes about Danny to last a lifetime) it warmed his heart to know someone outside his family loved Donnie almost as much as he did.

“I know, thank you.” He moves past the mayor to where the portal was and in another flash he's back in front of his house where Danny is waiting. The rat reaches out and takes him around the shoulders and herds him inside. “He’s burning up Danny, I-I don’t know what happened, I felt his forehead his morning and he was fine, you saw me do it.”

“I know, I know.” Even though Danny claimed that he didn’t remember any of his medical training he’s already looking over Donnie. Trained eyes looking for anything that could tell him what was wrong. After a few moments Danny says to Len, “Get him into bed I’ll be there in a sec-“

“Ah-shouldn’t we put in him some ice?”

“No, the last time we tried that he almost went into shock before I stepped in. He’s a turtle, he can’t handle it.”

“I-I know.” Len unconsciously cradles Donnie closer to his chest protectively. He could still remember the terror of the time when Donnie got the Fall Flu and had a fever that burned his hand. They had gotten so desolate they had put him in a tub of ice to combat it. They had thought it was working until Don had fallen into a deathlike stillness. It was only then Danny had realized Donnie was going into shock and pulled him out so quickly they had knocked over their makeshift tub.

Now Len couldn’t tell if the shivers he was feeling were from Donnie’s sleeping form or from his own fear. Not until Danny put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to look into his eyes. “Can you get him to bed please? I’m going to mix together some medicine that Amaranth taught me and I’ll be right there, ok?”

Len nods “Ok, ok.” He lowers his cheek onto Don’s scalp as he carries him upstairs. It's only when the parent and child are out of sight does Danny let out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his scalp under his hat and forcing himself to calm down. He had never realized how much he depended on Len keeping a calm head. He hadn’t realized just how much he depended on that til they brought Donnie in. During missions Len had an eerie calm about him that he thrived off of. But it was moments when anything threatened the health or happiness of his child that threw Len in the deep end and forced Danny to step in.

“Mickey,” he says without looking behind him, knowing the poor eel was fluttering around not knowing what to do. “Will you please go upstairs and keep Len calm? Help him how you can til I get there.”

“Y-yeah ok.” The eel hurried to do as he was told. In that moment Danny allowed himself one more sigh before reaching under the cabinet and pulling up an old beaten box, filled with herbs and remedies he had swiped from houses over the years. He pulls out a notebook he had filled with some of Amaranth's recipients and pulls out a mortar bowl and pestle. Picking through a few jars of tiny shards and grinding them together before taking out an empty incense holder and pouring it inside. He made sure to secure the lid and take up the glass bottle under his arm before hurrying up the stairs.

A part of him had been scared that Len’s own fears would drive him to ignore his warning about the ice, but he entered Don's room just as Len was pulling a blanket over him. “Good job.” Danny moves past him to kneel by the bed, turning and handing the incense to Mickey. “Can you light this please? It’ll help clear the bacteria out of his lungs.” As he was twisting open the glass bottle he heard Mickey spark behind him before the smell of lavender filled the air (he ignored Mickey gagging behind him). He tips the tip of the bottle to test how much liquid was inside. Luckily, they still had enough for Donnie (he’d have to steal more later). He dabs his thumb with the light pink liquid before running it across Don’s burning forehead. ”There.”

“Is he ok?”

Danny had to commend Len on not asking him a million questions. He reaches back and pats his old friend on the knee. “The Willow Extract should help take his fever down, but if It doesn’t help in a few hours we’ll go to witch town.” He doesn’t get a response, but when he turns to look at him, he sees Len staring at his son. His dark eyes full of concern and fear that only a father could have. Danny stands up and steps back. “Len why don’t you sit with him for a bit, and I’ll make you some tea.” He makes eye contact with Mickey and jerks his head towards the door. After taking a moment to pat Len on the shoulder he follows him out the door.

Len finally lets his face drop into his hands with a shaky breath before the sound of a weak cough reaches him. When he looks up again he was filled with relief to be looking into Donnie’s feverish dark pink eyes. “Hey,” says a weak voice.

“Hey baby boy,” Len sits up on the edge of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone tried to kill me with one of Uncle Danny’s devil pancakes.” He barely has enough wind to finish his sentence before he has to gasp for air. “Will you sit with me please?”

Len can't help but smile, holding the side of Don’s face with his hand for a moment before climbing over him and laying on his other side. Don turns his head and tucks his head underneath Lens chin. “I’m s’rry,” Don mumbles, “I-I didn’t know I was sick.”

“I know you didn’t, you’re not a good liar remember?” Len lowers his cheek onto his scalp. “You get that from your Uncle Mickey.”

“And you?”

“Nah, I’m a great liar,” he smirks down at Donnie, “I’m not going to teach you how to lie though until you turn eighteen,” he pauses, “Hundred.”

Donnie lets out a laugh that sounds more like a raspy balloon, but Len can tell he’s trying not to fall asleep again. He rubs Don’s arm over his blanket. “Get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” The teen gives a nod of acknowledgement before rolling towards him. A few moments later he's fast asleep again, breathing easier than he had been a few minutes ago.

#rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #donnie #rottmnt fantasy au #fantasy au #family #loathsome leonard #malicious mickey #dastardly danny #len dad #mud is thicker then blood #sick #compilations #father and son

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flyinghome-againstthewind · 4 years

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the best by far is you: chapter 14

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For all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you - Cecilia and the satellite

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Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Chapter 14

May 1746

In the light of morning, Claire woke in a strange room, in a bed she’d never slept in before last night. And yet her hand still reached for the pillow next to her as her consciousness slowly surfaced. Of course he wasn’t there. They’d never shared this bed, but being back at Lallybroch meant that his presence haunted this place at every turn. It felt wrong that she was here in his family’s home and Jamie wasn’t.

When she trekked downstairs in the mornings now, she half-expected to see him in the parlor with his arms full with the babies, or at the breakfast table in discussion with Ian and Murtagh.

And of course, any giggle or peep out of her young nieces had Claire’s gaze following the sound, knowing full well she wouldn’t find Faith at the source but still helpless to stop the impulse to check.

Her logical mind knew they wouldn’t be here, but the places in her mind that were filled with Jamie and Faith could not reconcile this. So much of Lallybroch was painted with memories of them.

Her one comfort in all of this was Fergus.

Fergus, who stayed by her side and in his own way told her he would do as Jamie had asked of him many times before; he would look after Claire.

And Fergus, who was only 11 and still reeling from the loss of Jamie, was in dire need of his own looking after. He was hers to take care of, to mother, to protect.

So when Ian told him after breakfast one day to get ready for a trip to Broch Morda for supplies, Fergus was hesitant to leave.

“You can go, Fergus. It’s alright.”

“No, Milady. I will stay.”

“Fergus,” her tone softened. “I will still be here when you come back. I promise. I’m not going anywhere without you.” She could see his resolve weakening at that so she gave him a quick side-hug and released him with, “Go on then. Go with your uncle.”

It didn’t strike her until they had left, what she had said. Ian had smiled at her, a little curiously, and left with Fergus, one hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Uncle, hmm?” had been how Jenny announced that she had noticed, too.

She found Jenny’s gaze. “Well, he is, technically… isn’t he?”

“Och, aye,” Jenny agreed easily. “We kenned before the war that he was yours, when ye and Jamie asked us to… to raise both him and Faith, should anything happen. Ye’ve jest never said it like that, calling Ian his uncle.”

“There’s a lot that we should’ve said sooner with Fergus.” She swallowed roughly, fighting the urge to cry. The rest remained unspoken ‒ the fear that, with Jamie at least, they might’ve missed a chance to correct this.

The rhythm of life at Lallybroch didn’t cease with Claire’s return, though she found herself unsure of her place in it now. Lady Broch Turach no longer, she watched as Jenny ran the house.

She had been eager to help still, but Jenny had insisted she rest for a few days after her recent journey and in light of her condition.

Which is how Claire found herself trying to make herself less of a stranger to her small nieces and nephew.

Wee Jamie still held some small spark of recognition for his auntie, and his joy over her return warmed her to the backbone. Little Maggie was reticent and shy around Claire, needing some time and space to make up her mind about her. But fifteen-month-old Kitty, as the youngest of the household, had never known the luxury of having either of her parents’ undivided attention and had grown used to being passed from one set of arms to the next. As such, she’d never been a clingy child and in contrast to her older sister, Kitty warmed up to her Auntie Claire very fast.

By mid-afternoon, she’d crawled into Claire’s lap and fallen asleep. That was how Mrs. Crook found the two of them when she came to collect the girls for their nap.

“D’ye want me to take her, Mistress?”

“No.” Claire’s arms tightened ever so slightly around Kitty’s small form. “I’m alright with her. Thank you.”

Jenny flitted about throughout the day, never quite sitting still, but she paused when she found Claire and Kitty there in the parlor. “That didna take long,” she said warmly, her gaze flicking down to sweet Kitty.

“She’s quite the character now.”

“Aye, since she learnt tae speak, she’s kept us laughing.”

Claire exhaled a soft laugh, her gaze inexorably drawn back to the sleeping girl in her arms. She felt Jenny sink into the seat next to her, and drew in a deep breath.

“What’s she like now?” Claire asked, her voice trembling as she managed to get the words out. Her eyes flicked up to Jenny to see if she understood that she wasn’t asking about Kitty.

Jenny made a soft, pitying sound and took her time considering how to answer.

“She’s a terribly smart wee thing,” Jenny said at length and despite how Jenny’s words made her ache, Claire also felt the pull of a proud smile. “Always keepin’ me on my toes, that one. And she was always the one in charge, despite Maggie being six months older.

“And still as stubborn as ever, if no’ more. Took an age tae get her tae sleep wi’out needing to be held.”

Claire’s smile faltered, her thoughts flooded with the nights spent holding Faith in her arms, walking the length of the upper hallway until she fell asleep. She supposed Faith had been a bit of a difficult baby in that regard ‒ she never could fall right to sleep if they laid her down in her cradle. But Faith was their first baby and they’d been too wrapped up in her to try and change that nighttime routine with her.

Jenny studied her expression. “Ye ken I was the same way with my wee Jamie. Lad never so much as touched the ground until he was well o’er a year. But with all the bairns, I‒”

“Oh, Jenny, no. I’m not upset or judging you. With all the little ones, you couldn’t possibly…”

“She only started going to sleep on her own when we let her share a bed with Maggie,” Jenny added.

“Really?”

“Aye, they were always together when they were awake so we put her in wi’ Maggie one night and then she was happy as a lark.”

Claire’s gaze dropped again to small Kitty. “They must miss her,” she said softly. “As I’m sure she misses them.”

“She’s still such a wee darling,” Jenny said after a moment, and Claire felt her heart constrict. “She was always the last one out of bed every morning, but she’d look for me first when she woke, aye? After weeks of that, I… I never felt like my morning really started until after she’d run and found me... given me a hug. I miss that. I miss her‒”

She didn’t miss the way Jenny turned away slightly, surreptitiously wiping at her tears. Claire swallowed past the sudden lump on her throat as a heavy silence followed.

“Ken she’s yer bairn, Claire, but after months of…” Jenny’s eyes were watery but she blinked back more tears and straightened. Claire watched her physically steel herself against the pain.

“She was yours, during that time. I know that,” Claire whispered tightly, fighting her own rush of tears. For Jenny’s loss. For Faith’s. For her own. “You and Ian were prepared to raise her if… if Jamie and I didn’t make it back. I can never thank you enough.”

“I’ll accept no thanks for it. She’s blood.”

“I didn’t mean…” Claire reached for Jenny’s hand, surprised to feel Jenny’s tight squeeze in response. It was hard for both of them, unimaginably so.

“I wanted ye both to come back for her. I’m no’ saying‒”

“No, of course not,” Claire said firmly. “I only meant that it… it was a comfort to me when we were gone, knowing she was here. Knowing she was loved. Jamie and I couldn’t have entrusted her to anyone else.”

“I wasna in the house when Murtagh came and fetched her,” Jenny said suddenly, her voice suddenly wooden. “I found out a short while later. Mrs. Crook made a fuss of it but she didn’t stop him.” Her gaze met Claire’s and she saw the pain lurking behind Jenny’s stubborn resolve. “But if it had been me, Claire, he never would’ve gone one step away from here wi’ that child. And I jest keep thinking if I had been here to stop him, mebbe none o’ this would’ve happened. Mebbe Jamie would’ve had tae figure out a different plan if Faith never arrived. And surely ye wouldna have agreed to go anywhere wi’out her.”

“Jenny…” Claire sighed. “I have replayed that day over and over in my mind, wondering how I could’ve changed the outcome. But at the end of the day, it’s wasted energy. Because there’s nothing either of us could do now to change what’s happened. I know you know that.”

She squeezed Jenny’s hand a little tighter. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Neither did ye.”

Jenny’s words surprised her and she let out a humorless laugh. “Not so sure about that‒”

“Claire,” Jenny chided sharply. “Ye didna ken what would happen ‒ and how could ye? Would ye have gone if ye had?”

“No, but I‒”

“Are ye really goin’ tae argue wi’ me o’er the same thing ye just told me no’ to punish myself about?”

Her mouth snapped shut, no counterargument coming to mind. She’d meant what she said ‒ Jenny should carry no guilt for that day. That didn’t mean the choice of going through the stones that day didn’t weigh heavily on Claire’s conscience. But Jenny was bound and determined to make the same argument on her behalf, she could see.

“How far along are ye?” Jenny asked when their conversation stalled.

“Eleven weeks or so. Still so much that can go wrong.” The last sentence came out in a rush. Jenny’s hand held tight to her own, an unspoken understanding passing between them. “In fact, I‒ well, besides when I came through that morning, I haven’t felt sick once and I worry… what if that…”

“Have ye bled at all?” Jenny cut in, not unkindly but to the point.

“N-no, but it would take some time still before my body‒” She couldn’t finish the sentence, but Jenny squeezed her hand, seeming to understand.

“Were ye sick when you went through back tae yer time?”

“Sick as a dog the entire time I was there. That’s how it had been when I was pregnant with Faith.”

She hadn’t realized she was crying until Jenny’s hand gently brushed the tears from her face. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to talk to someone about this until the words were spilling out to Jenny, no longer festering under her skin.

“I’ve been so focused on finding Jamie and Faith the last few weeks that I’ve barely even thought about the baby, but I‒ oh god, I couldn’t bear to lose it!”

The sobs came then and she was pulled sideways into Jenny’s arms and held there. Kitty stirred but didn’t wake, stretching sleepily in her new position.

“Dinna talk like that, Claire.” Jenny’s voice was soft and soothing but laced with concern. “Until we ken otherwise, this bairn is jest fine. It’s no use tae spend yer time worrying when it might jest be yer sickness easing up.”

Rationally, Claire knew this could be the reason… her morning sickness letting up as she approached her second trimester.

“Ye willna be alone, Claire,” Jenny startled her by speaking right to the heart of her fear, the part she couldn’t possibly put into words without breaking. “No matter what happens to the bairn or to Jamie or Faith. Ye hear me?”

Jamie had said those same words to her once and though she would never quite be whole if she lost any of them, she knew Jamie was still right. He’d seen to it that she had a family who could carry her through even the unthinkable.

Her free hand came up to grasp Jenny’s arm where it was holding tightly to her. “I hear you.”

“Milady!”

“Jenny! Claire!”

Fergus and Ian’s voices announced their return from Broch Morda late in the day and had both Jenny and Claire hastening out to meet them.

“What’s happened?” Jenny demanded.

“There’s a letter for you!” Fergus jumped down from the wagon before Ian had even slowed the horses to full stop.

“Careful!” Claire scolded, but it was lost on Ian’s next words.

“Jest have a look at the handwriting.”

Fergus handed the letter over to Jenny, to whom it was addressed, and Claire had to restrain herself from snatching it from Jenny’s fingers when she caught sight of the familiar, fine penmanship that belonged to her husband.

“Jamie…”

Jenny tore open the letter abruptly and unfolded it while Claire arranged herself at Jenny’s shoulder, peering over at the contents of it. Not a word of it was in English and bits of the Gaelic was lost on Claire.

“What does it say?” Fergus asked impatiently, but Claire and Jenny were both too engrossed to respond. Instead, Claire slipped an arm around his shoulders and tucked him against her side.

“That word there ‒ what does that mean?” She pointed.

Jenny gave her a sideways glance. “Sorcha? It’s… well, it’s you, Claire. It’s yer name in Gàidhlig. He’s written that you’ve gone. That he’s lost ye.”

She didn’t need a translator for the next sentence written in French. One word jumped out at her and suddenly her vision blurred with tears. It was clear he was trying to be careful; he’d referred to their child as faith, a belief. But he had her.

There was no way to tell him of her return but somehow just the confirmation that Jamie and Faith were alive and together at the time he’d written gave Claire a sweeping sense of relief.

“They’re alright,” she breathed out.

“Where are they?” Fergus asked.

“He doesna say.” Jenny sighed.

“Where are they headed?”

It might’ve been quicker to hand Fergus the letter and let him see for himself, but instead, Jenny scanned it again, as though trying to extract some further message from it. “He doesna say,” she repeated, with no effort to hide her disappointment.

“He’s being cautious. Especially because of Faith. And he wouldn’t want to put any of your lives in jeopardy by disclosing his plans.”

“But…” Fergus began and then hesitated. When Claire glanced down at him, she could see the concern etched into his expression. His gaze slid up to meet hers. “How will we find them if we don’t know where he is or where he’s going?”

Claire breathed in deeply. An excellent question, she thought, and one she had no answer to. “Don’t you worry. We’ll… we’ll keep looking.”

They went inside, but the contents of the letter stayed top of mind for all as they tried to move about their day. Ian read the letter for himself and then Murtagh read it when he joined them before dinner. In the evening, they gathered in the parlor, and Jamie’s letter ended up in Claire’s hands while the discussion of Jamie and Faith’s whereabouts unfolded around them.

“He could’ve gone to Leoch.”

Claire pulled a face at that suggestion from Murtagh. “Surely not after Colum’s death and‒” her gaze broke away to wee Jamie and she couldn’t get the words out of how it had ended with Dougal in front of the little ones.

“Aye, with both brothers gone, the role of clan chieftain will pass to wee Hamish. Doubt he’d give Jamie much trouble, wee runt that he is. No one there would ken what happened wi’ Dougal MacKenzie. And Jamie does have people there who would be loyal to him and give him shelter if he asked for it.”

Claire considered it, but only for a moment. “No, he wouldn’t risk it. Colum wanted to remain neutral but Dougal fought in the rebellion with his men and there’s no telling how the British will interpret Clan MacKenzie’s loyalty. Especially in the immediate aftermath, they work tirelessly to squash any trace of rebellion. Besides, if anyone knows of Jamie’s ties to the MacKenzie clan, it would be the next place the Redcoats would look after here.”

Murtagh only grunted, still considering.

“I ken how he feels about Lord Lovat, but maybe…” Ian trailed off, staring at Claire. “Have I missed something, Claire?”

She breathed in briskly. “This hadn’t felt relevant when I shared my story with you all, but… Lord Lovat will be executed as a traitor by the British for his involvement in the rising. There was a… Well. Let’s just say I knew of this before Culloden, but I found confirmation of Lord Lovat’s execution when I returned to my time, while I looked for Jamie. And Jamie knows about his grandfather’s death, too. He won’t bring Faith there, even if they are family.”

Jenny took the news of her grandsire in stride while Ian cleared his throat awkwardly, not sure how to move on from that piece of news.

“More likely he’ll go where no one kens him,” Murtagh said softly, his gaze on the fire. “If he canna turn to family without risk involved.”

Claire didn’t miss the way Fergus’s face fell at this pronouncement. He had picked a spot on the floor, away from everyone else and closer to the fire, but his attention to their conversation was completely present.

She’d never seen him so morose before, but she understood perfectly why he felt so hopeless ‒ it was a daily battle of her own not to give in to the feeling.

“Fergus, come sit by me,” she called to him.

He went without any resistance and sunk into the spot next to her on the sofa. Claire pulled him closer and his head leaned against her shoulder. “It’ll be alright, love,” she murmured quietly.

“Can I see this?” he asked, ignoring her comment.

“Yes, of course.” With a sad smile, she handed over the letter to him and then let her attention drift back to the conversation at hand.

Fergus pored over the contents of the letter and, like everyone else, found nothing new to glean from it. Clearly frustrated, he began to fidget with the letter, using the weight of the wax seal on one end to flip the paper back and forth, open and then folded shut.

Claire watched him, unable to ignore the movement from the corner of her eye. Something clicked in her brain and her hand shot out, stopping Fergus. The red wax seal faced up to both of them and Fergus glanced curiously at Claire.

“I’ve seen this seal before.”

She said it quietly enough that none of the others heard it ‒ she’d said it mostly to herself but Fergus had caught it, too.

“Where have I seen this seal before?”

Fergus took a deep breath, his whole demeanor shifting. “Is it not Milord’s?”

“No, it’s not his. But it’s familiar, somehow…”

“If you remember, it could help us find them, non?”

She frowned slightly at it. “Perhaps. If I remember.”

That night she dreamt of the World War, of being back in the field hospitals tending to wounded soldiers. But she was looking for someone in particular as she checked the cots of the wounded. Suddenly, someone tugged on her arm and she turned, finding Mary Hawkins at her side, clad in the same dress she’d worn that day at the apothecary in Inverness.

“Please, Claire, you have to help him!” Claire could see Alex Randall suddenly, laid out on a cot just behind Mary. A nurse was pulling a sheet over his head, already gone. “He’s dying!”

“I’m sorry, Mary. There’s nothing I can do.” There was an urgency, an almost physical push for Claire to leave that she couldn’t define. “I have to find my husband.”

Claire woke with a start and laid very still in the dark room. For a moment, her mind struggled to place that room, and which year she resided in. She curled up on her side and breathed in deeply, the details of her dream already starting to fade. But seeing Mary, someone from this time, plopped into the middle of 1943 was hard to forget. And the powerlessness she’d felt of being unable to cure poor Alex…

Her eyes flew open again and stared through the darkness.

She had seen the seal before. Three weeks ago on Alex Randall’s desk.

“Randall?” Murtagh scowled.

“Alex Randall, yes.” Claire handed the letter to him. “During one of the times I tended to him in Inverness, I wrote out a list for Mary of what she could give Alex to keep him comfortable and help him rest. The seal was there. He must’ve recently written a letter ‒ or Mary.”

“And ye’re sure? Ye ken it’s the same as this one and no’ just because ye dreamed it?”

Claire, on some level, understood his skepticism, but she leveled an irritated gaze at him for that remark all the same. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“What the devil would Jamie be doing wi’ a dead man’s seal? Wi’ a Randall’s seal?”

“Not Alex,” Claire murmured, noticing the sounds of little ones up in the hallway. It wouldn’t be long before the family joined them. “But what about Mary?”

Murtagh gave a soft grunt, considering this.

“She would’ve still been in Inverness,” Claire pressed. “And Jamie knew this. What if he stopped there first after the stones?”

Murtagh looked doubtful of that possibility but he didn’t say anything.

“How else would Jamie have used this seal, hmm?” She pressed the issue, feeling for the first time a sense of hope. They had a direction, at least. They knew where to start. If Mary was still in Inverness, they had someone to question who likely saw Jamie and Faith after Culloden.

“Suppose we head for Inverness and we’re wrong about the seal. What then?”

Claire gave a helpless shrug. “We don’t have anything else to go on. If not Inverness, where else would we look that wouldn’t be a complete guess?”

In 4 days’ time, they were packing up from Lallybroch to head for Inverness.

For Claire, that meant grabbing what she would need for the journey, but also what she could bring should she find Jamie and Faith. When they’d left from Lallybroch the last time, there were plenty of their things they’d left behind, like Jamie’s mother’s pearls that he’d given to Claire on their wedding night.

She packed her maternity stays she’d worn in Paris, uncertain of where she’d be when the need arose for them again. She stilled in her packing at that thought. She had no idea where she’d be when the baby came, either, and that thought was terrifying. Digging into a chest in the Laird’s room, she unearthed some of Faith’s clothing from when she was a tiny baby. They’d packed them away last year ‒ was it only last year? ‒ with the unspoken hope between her and Jamie that they’d have a reason to use them again someday.

Her fingers toyed with the fabric of one simple white nightgown. These were such imperfect circumstances to bring a baby into, but then again… Faith had entered the world amidst equally imperfect circumstances. Claire knew she could do it, if she had to… raise the baby on her own. But oh, the thought of this baby never knowing Jamie or Faith broke her heart clean in two.

A light rap on the door startled Claire and she turned to see Jenny with a few of Faith’s things ‒ her doll, a blanket, and the wooden box that Claire knew held 12 apostle spoons.

“Are you sure about that one?” She gestured to the box. “I know that’s a family heirloom.”

“It was Faith’s christening gift. It should be returned to Faith.”

Claire smiled faintly, bolstered slightly by Jenny’s unwavering belief that wherever this journey ended, Faith and Jamie would be there.

“All set, then?” Claire poked her head into Fergus’s room. The boy was finishing up packing his things neatly into his pack as Jamie had shown him. He’d been different the last few days, since she’d remembered about the seal. Since they had a direction in mind to begin. Hope had returned for him and no shortage of determination as well.

“Oui, Milady. Just about.”

His wooden swords leaned against the wall in one corner. He’d already decided that those would go to wee Jamie, that they were too bulky to bring along and that he was too old for them now anyway.

But Claire felt a soft swell of relief to see him tucking his carved horse into his bag to take with him. He was growing up much too quickly, but he hadn’t outgrown her and for that, she was grateful.

“Are you sad to leave this behind? It’s been your room for a while.”

Fergus glanced over the room and gave a small shrug. “It’s only a room.”

She thought of all the places they’d lived over the two years that Fergus had been with them ‒ Jared’s place, Lallybroch, drafty cottages and flimsy tents dotted all along Scotland and England. They’d given him an upbringing not unlike what she’d had with her Uncle Lamb, and with it, an untethered understanding of home.

“You’re right, it’s only a room.”

She reached an arm out to him as he slung his pack over his shoulder, and they walked out of the room together with his shoulder tucked into her side.

“Ye have everything then?”

“Think so.”

Claire looked up from adjusting her saddlebag with last-minute provisions and saw Jenny standing there, arms folded across her chest.

She’d said her goodbyes to wee Jamie, Maggie, and Kitty already, which was harder for a second time, having felt as though she’d only gotten to know them again just to leave them, never knowing when ‒ or even if ‒ she might see them next.

Murtagh and Fergus were securing the last of the packs to Murtagh’s horse so she and Jenny had a moment to themselves.

“I feel like we just did this, saying our goodbyes,” Claire said ruefully.

Jenny pulled her into a tight hug. “Aye, weel, the two o’ ye never can seem to stay out o’ trouble.”

She gave Jenny a squeeze before releasing her.

“Take care of yerself, sister. And I don’t jest mean because o’ the bairn. Though…” her hand came to rest on Claire’s stomach over the layers of her skirts. “Do take care o’ this one as well.”

“I will. And I’ll send word as soon as I know anything. I promise.”

Jenny smiled appreciatively at that, though Claire knew in this century, it would take weeks if not months for the news to arrive. It hardly felt right in these circumstances to leave their family waiting that long without word, but they didn’t know anything different than the snail’s pace of correspondence.

“If I find them‒”

“When ye find them,” Jenny corrected her. The only time she’d even hinted at the possibility of losing Jamie and Faith had been that day in the parlor, and only to assure Claire that they would support her.

“When I do … it will still be a while that the British occupy the Highlands. I don’t know when it will be safe to return to Lallybroch, but it might not be for a long while.”

“I ken that.” Jenny’s expression was strong and unshakable but Claire knew… the reality of what stretched out before them even if they found Jamie quickly still meant that the Murrays might not see them for years. Might not see them ever again, even. “Dinna bring them home if it’s no’ safe. We understand.”

Claire nodded. It didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like hell to be apart. She pulled Jenny back in for a last hug, murmuring a quiet apology against her shoulder, and hoping that Jenny knew that she understood what Jenny was losing, too. What she’d already lost. Faith had lived under Lallybroch’s roof since she was four months old. And for eight months, she’d been entrusted solely to Jenny and Ian. It wasn’t just Jenny’s only remaining brother that was missing, likely not to return any time soon, but the niece who was also a little more than that.

“She’ll know about how you felt about her morning greetings,” Claire found herself saying. “I’ll tell her everything about her life here, including what you shared with me from the last several months. She’ll know it all, I promise.”

Murtagh and Fergus were hovering awkwardly nearby, having loaded everything onto the two horses they were taking ‒ Murtagh’s and the horse Claire had bought in Inverness. She released Jenny in time to see Ian making his way out to say goodbye to them.

“C’mere, lad,” Jenny beckoned Fergus to her. “Come say goodbye to yer auntie then.”

Claire turned to Ian, at a loss for what to say. He smiled at her, a touch sadly, and pulled her into a hug. “Take care o’ yer Fraser, aye?”

She felt her vision burn with tears, remembering how they’d parted last year. “I will,” she said, her voice raspy. “And you take care of yours. Take extra good care of her, please.”

Ian’s response was to squeeze her tighter. She sighed and finally released him, seeing that Jenny was laying into Murtagh what seemed to be instructions for looking out for her and Fergus. Murtagh appeared less than thrilled, but wisely only grunted in acknowledgement.

When everyone had said their goodbyes, it was time to leave. Claire turned to Fergus and tilted her head in the direction of the horses. “Your choice. You can ride with me or with Murtagh.”

“I will start the journey with Murtagh,” Fergus said decidedly. “And when he gets too grumpy, I will ride with you, Milady.”

His words broke the heavy feeling in their group as laughter rippled out.

“I dinna have to let ye ride wi’ me,” Murtagh fired back, though his eyes danced with merriment as he mounted his horse and extended a hand to Fergus to help him up.

Ian offered Claire a hand as she mounted her horse. She turned to Murtagh and Fergus. “Ready?”

Murtagh gave a curt nod, and Fergus from his perch behind Murtagh gave Claire a determined nod of his own. Claire gave her horse a firm kick and they were off.

This time, when they cleared the gates, Claire looked back. She wanted to remember seeing Jenny and Ian by the front steps waving goodbye, and how Lallybroch looked in the early May light with the rest of the world all green around it. For as long as she lived, if she never saw it again, it would live always in her memory just like this. The first place that felt like home.

But it’s only a place, she reminded herself. Though she couldn’t find it within herself to feel completely as Fergus did, as she might’ve when she were younger. Lallybroch was home for a while. And the Murrays were family.

But home would be if‒ no, when… home would be when she found Jamie and Faith, with Fergus and Murtagh with them, and their little family wouldn’t be separated for the first time since last August. Home would be back together again.

Jamie and Faith were out there somewhere. All they had to do was find them.

#outlander fic #OL fic #jamie x claire #faith fraser #outlander #tbbfiy #the best by far is you #my fic

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padme-parker · 4 years

Text

Keep On Loving You [AU!Anakin Skywalker x Reader]

Summary: After breaking up with Anakin nearly 5 years ago, you see him again.

Word Count: 6.1k+

Warnings: um angst, mentions of pregnancy and abortion, Anakin is an asshole in this one, fluff if you squint

A/N: This is a song fic, so listen to the cover of “Keep On Loving You” by Cigarettes After Sex while reading this!

Also, I was never gonna post this but I wanna supply ya’ll with content while I try (and horribly fail) to write ch 3 of Collide. Fun Fact: This was actually THE first fic I ever wrote and completed (so don’t have high expectations lmaooo)

Walking into the grocery store, you noticed it was more crowded than usual. It was odd, you thought, no one ever really comes to your local grocer. You brushed it off, continuing your shopping. Although you shopped here often, the workers rarely changed where the items were located. You had already familiarized yourself with the baking aisle, so imagine your surprise when you realized the flour was now on the top shelf. You tried to grab it by hopping, but that didn’t work out. As you started to climb the shelves, a hand reached out and grabbed it for you.

“Thank you!” You replied cheerfully. You hadn’t even had the chance to turn around before you heard a quiet, “No problem.” Your body had tensed up. You could recognize that voice anywhere, it didn’t matter that five years had already gone by.

“Ani?” You turned slowly, hoping your ears weren’t deceiving you.

“Y/N?” The warmth had left your face, you tried to blink back the tears. The air had left your body, suddenly you couldn’t remember how to breathe. “Hey, Anakin.” You said with a faint smile

“My god! It is you Y/N. How are you?” You were surprised he had even remembered you.

“I’m good, just buying some stuff for myself.” you replied.

“Flour? I don’t recall you being into baking when we were together..”

“Oh, yeah. It’s something I..uh.. Picked up on after you left. I was just actually getting some ingredients for some cookies. What about you, how are you doing?” You told him, you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes, so you chose to admire the floor instead.

“I’m doing pretty good, I would go into full details but I don’t want to disturb you.” He said, “Actually, how about we go grab a cup of coffee?” After he said that, you lifted your head to look at him. He must’ve thought the face you made was funny because the corner of his lips started to quirk up.

“Yeah, okay. Let me just pay for this and we can go. Same place?” Anakin simply nodded his head, and with that you were off.

You let out a loud laugh, amused by one of Anakin’s stories. It felt like everything was right. As if the two of you never broke up, just like the old times. You wrapped your hands around the warm drink, trying to warm up your hands.

“So why are you back in New York, Anakin? I thought you were in Los Angeles for your acting career.” You paused, unsure what to say next.. “Congrats by the way, I know how much it means to you.” Although it hurt to say it, you were truly proud of his accomplishments. You turned to look at him and for the first time, you admired his appearance. His hair had gotten longer and his eyes were brighter now.

“About that, I’m here for my wedding!” For the second time today, the air left your body. You felt as though the world around you was now crumbling to pieces. It might’ve been five years, but you could never be able to stop loving Anakin.

“W-wow, really? Who’s the lucky lady?” You asked, you tried to keep your emotions in check. Now was not the time to cry.

“Her name is Padme, she’s an actress, just like me. It’s funny, we were both working on the same movie, our characters were in love with each other but I could’ve sworn she hated me. Well one thing led to another and now we’re going to get married.” A grin made its way onto Anakin’s face, “What about you Y/N, find anyone special?”

You hesitated before speaking, “No not really, I’ve been busy with work, taking care of my dogs and-” The shrill tone of Anakin’s phone cut you off, “Hold on, Padme’s calling..” He then proceeded to answer, giving you a sheepish look. You could faintly hear her on the phone, she had been panicking which caused Anakin to swiftly tidy up, “Okay, okay Padme, calm down, I’ll be there soon.” He gave you an apologetic look before getting up. “Do you.. Um… perhaps wanna go? To the wedding?” He asked you.

“Me? Ani, you want me to go?” You were curious, the two of you hadn’t spoken for almost five years, why in the world would Anakin want you there?

“Of course I do Y/N/N, how could I not?” You swallowed the lump in your throat before nodding. In return, a bright smile was given. “Great, I’ll send an invitation to your address” you quickly corrected him, “Actually, Anakin, I don’t live there anymore.” He let out a quick oh in response. Getting out a pen from your purse, you wrote down your address on a napkin before handing it to him.

He took a brief glance at it before shoving it in his pocket, “See you tonight?” You were caught off guard, “W-what?” you asked.

“To give you the invitation I mean.” He replied

You let out the breath you were holding, “Oh yeah, I guess I’ll see you tonight.” He gave you a swift nod accompanied by a smirk, and then he was gone.

By the time night came, you had completely forgotten that Anakin was going to stop by, too engrossed with the cookies you were baking. You were just about to take out the cookies when the bell rang. With a curse, you threw down the rag and ran to the door. Hastily opening the door, you were greeted by Anakin.

“Hey, thanks for coming by. It really means a lot to me, Anakin” You told him

“It really is no big deal y/n, and it would mean a lot to me if you came to my wedding.” Anakin then pulled an invitation out, “The wedding is on Saturday, the ceremony starts at 3pm.” Given that it was Tuesday, you had three days to find a suitable outfit. Or just rummage through your closet and find whatever was good enough.

“Look, I would invite you in Anakin, but I’m currently busy. Sorry” Your eyebrows were raised and gave him a shrug, “Gotta go, my cookies are gonna burn!” You shut the door on him before he could respond. You pressed your back against the door and took a deep breath to compose yourself before going back to your cookies. Seeing that your cookies were about to be burned, you quickly took them out.

“Who was at the door?” Asked your roommate

“HOLY SHIT! What the hell, Steve. Are you a ninja now?” You whisper screamed, taking a quick glance at him only to realize he was nearly naked, “And why in the world are you almost naked Steve?”

“It doesn’t matter. Oooh, are those cookies?” Before you could reply he grabbed one and shoved the hot cookie in his mouth. “So are you gonna tell me who that was?”

“No one, just a-- it was nobody.” you say, trying to sound convincing. Steve then gave you a pointed look, indicating that he would wait all night for the truth if he had to. Giving in, you told him who he was. “That was..he’s..” your eyes begin to tear up, “Anakin, it was him. He was just inviting me to his wedding.” It seems like all you did now was cry. You didn’t understand why you were crying, it’s been five years. You should be over him by now.

“Anakin, as in Anakin Skywalker the-” you cut him off, “Yes, that’s him.” The tears were coming out of you like a river now. He let out a soft sigh before taking you in his embrace, he knew what had happened between you and Anakin.

You had been waiting all night for Anakin to come home. You knew that he was close to landing a lead role, so you had wanted to prepare a nice dinner for his efforts along with sharing some good news of your own. Just as you pulled the chicken out of the oven, the front door opened. Anakin set down his stuff with a sigh, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around you.

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his embrace. You enjoyed the warmth he emitted, snuggling closer to him. Anakin was the first person you had ever truly loved. No one could ever compare to him.

“So, how’d it go Ani?” Expecting another rejection, you turned to cup his face. However you were proved wrong when a smile lit up the room. “I got it baby! I did it!” He screamed, lifting you up and placing kisses on your face. You screamed along with him, you were happy that he was finally being recognized for his talent.

“Anakin, that’s amazing!” You were jumping with joy, “I made roast chicken, let's discuss over dinner.” You began to plate the chicken along with the honey roasted carrots and potatoes. Anakin set up the plates and cutlery, getting two wine glasses and your favorite bottle of wine. Once you saw that he finished setting up, you put the chicken and sides down on the table. Taking out a knife, you cut out a piece of breast meat for him. You were quite excited for this meal, you tried a new recipe, resulting in the chicken looking juicy and flavorful. You then served yourself before sitting down. Anakin reached for the bottle of wine, pouring himself a glass first before reaching over to grab yours.

“Actually, Ani, I think I’ll stick with water tonight.” He gave you a questioning look, “I’m quite parched, and although I’d love a glass right now, water seems like the only thing that can quench my thirst. Thank you though.” He got up to get you a glass of water before returning to his seat.

“So, tell me about it Ani.” You started the conversation

“Well y/n/n, everything about it was great. After auditioning I was sure I wasn’t going to get a call back, but they did baby! They called me and wanted to discuss the role with me.” He continued, “We have to start filming soon but..” He paused

“But what, Ani?” you implored

“I’m going to be gone for a long time y/n, in Los Angeles…” that surprised you, he was supposed to be gone in LA while you were in NYC, “How long Anakin?” you asked, afraid of his answer.

“Almost a year, my flight leaves tomorrow at 4:35pm” you froze, how were you supposed… what if… you couldn’t think, so many thoughts and questions were running through your mind.

“Ani, you’re going to spend a whole year in Los Angeles..away from me.”

“Y/n, it doesn’t have to be that way.” He reassured you, “You can come with me, we can still be together.” He must have been joking, there was no way you were going to leave. “Anakin, you know I can’t! Everything that I’ve built for my career is here!”

“If you come with me, we can rebuild our future together. Nothing will stop us, we won’t have anything to worry about. Imagine it, you and I, walking down the red carpet together. Hand in hand.” You were appalled, was that all he really cared about? The fame and fortune?

“You can’t be serious right now, Anakin! Is that all you care about? The money and fame that comes with being an actor? We both know that the world doesn’t give two shits about people like us!” You screamed, your chest was heaving now.

“People like us? What do you even mean by that? Are you insinuating that I’ll never be successful?” By now his eyes were wide open, gone was the supposed celebratory night.

“No- Anakin you’re putting words into my mouth, I-” “THEN WHAT Y/N? WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY MEAN?” You took a deep breath before opening your mouth, “Ani, all I’m saying is that the people don’t care about nobodies, and they never will.”

“But that’s the thing y/n, everyone starts as a nobody, yet the only person who can change that is yourself. I’m sorry but I can’t be with someone who doesn’t believe in me.” His eyes glistened with tears, he sniffled quietly, “I’ll come back for my stuff tomorrow before I leave, but I can’t stay here tonight.” The awkward squeaking of his chair broke you out of your trance, you watched as he put on his jacket and collected his keys. Just as he was walking out the door he paused, “You know y/n, I would’ve gone anywhere in the world for you. I just wished you’d done the same for me.” He said before softly closing the door.

You got up from your seat and walked towards your bedroom. Sitting down on the bed, you let out a defeated sigh. You scanned the room, only now noticing how much of it was filled with Anakin’s things. His scent still lingered in the air. You didn’t realise you were crying until you felt a tear drop onto your hands. You wiped away the tears before reaching under your side of the bed and taking out a box. Gently grasping the picture, you took it out of the box before starting to cry again, “It was supposed to be us together, forever.”

“So what’re going to do y/n? Are you actually going to his wedding?” Steve questioned you. In response you gave him a shrug. You knew it was wrong of you to go, but Anakin had personally invited you himself. Even though the two of you hadn’t talked to each other for half of a decade, he was still someone you cared about. Hell, you and Anakin grew up together as best friends, you had to be there for him. It was the least you could do. “Yeah, I’m going, Steve.”

The day of the wedding, you woke up nervous. Who wouldn't be, the ex you’re still madly and deeply in love with was going to get married to someone that wasn’t you. You called out for Steve but got no reply. You let out a sigh before getting up to get your phone to text him.

You: Hey, wya?

Steve: Good Morning y/n, I’m currently out. I won’t be home until later today, sorry bug :((

You: What! I was relying on you to watch my kids

Steve: I know, I know, sowwy. Maybe you can text the babysitter?

You left Steve on read to quickly text your babysitter.

You: JAR JAR!

JJ: Yo, wassup. What can I do for you today?

You: Can you take care of my precious children today? Pretty please!!!

JJ: Of course I can, I’d love to.

You: Great thanks JJ! Please be here before 2:05pm :)

You were grateful that you had Jar Jar on days like this, while you hadn’t spent much time with him, you trusted him enough with your kids. Hopping into the shower, you washed your hair and body, letting the warm water and steam unwind you a little. By the time you were done showering it had been 11:35am, leaving a couple hours to get ready and maybe have a little snack.

Walking over to your closet, you pulled out a satin champagne dress. It had a low cut, showing a little cleavage. The fabric on the left side of your hip wrapped around your body, coming back up to where it started, giving you a slight slit. Then you moved onto makeup, deciding on going for a simple look. After applying your foundation, concealer, and contour, you moved onto the upper half of your face. You carefully filled in your brows, making sure each swipe was precise. Taking a spoolie, you blended the brow product ensuring that your brows weren’t so harsh looking. Next, you took your favorite mascara and applied it to your lashes. While there was some volume, you decided to put on some eyelashes so your eyes didn’t look so naked compared to the rest of your face. You moved onto blush and highlight, deciding on whatever complimented your skin. For the finishing touch, you chose a mauve-nude lipstick along with a glittery lipgloss. As for hair, you slicked it back, putting it into a nice tight low bun. By the time you were finished, the clock was at 1:25pm. It took you nearly two hours to get ready, but you still had time to accessorize and grab a snack.

You grabbed the first gold necklace you could find and put it on, along with a pair of dangly earrings. The house was quiet, so you assumed that the dogs were still asleep or taking a nap. Creeping into the kitchen, you settled on having a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a cup of yogurt for breakfast. Something quick and easy, it would keep you sustained until the eating portion of the wedding. If you had to be real, that was the one thing you were looking forward to. I mean who doesn’t love free food? After cleaning up, you went back to your room taking a quick second to check up on the sleeping beast on your bed. Seeing as it was still asleep, you went to the closet and pulled out a jacket along with strappy gold heels. It was nearing 2pm so you picked up your purse and made sure you had everything you needed. Makeup? Check. Phone? Check. Keys? Check. Invitation? Check. You walked into the bathroom and checked yourself out one last time. As you were heading towards the door, the doorbell rang, signaling Jar Jar’s arrival. You went to open it and invited him in.

“Alright Jar Jar, I’ve gotta run. You know where the food is if they get hungry, they’ve been napping for a while now so they might wake up soon, you know the drill.” You told him

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got this under control. I’ve done this like a hundred times, duh.” He announced, you smiled at him. He never failed to lift your mood with his sarcastic and goofy attitude. You gave him one last nod before grabbing your keys out of your purse to lock the door.

Hopping into your car, you typed the address into your phone and started the journey to the venue. It took about 25 minutes to get there, you arrived at 2:30, giving you some time to find parking and a seat at the ceremony. The event was pretty big, given that both Anakin and Padme were famous, there had been many guests. You chose a seat in the middle of all the chairs, not too close yet not too far. You looked around, trying to spot anyone you knew but you couldn’t find anyone. Just as you were about to go on your phone to pass the time you felt someone sit awfully close to you. You looked up realizing who it was.

“Anakin!” You were surprised, shouldn’t he be up at the front? “Why’re sitting next to me? Aren’t you supposed to be at the front?” You took a glance at him, noticing how well his tux fit him.

“Well yeah, but I’m nervous y/n/n..” he replied. “What, why? Isn’t this supposed to be the happiest day of your life..?” you asked, you were starting to have second thoughts, maybe you shouldn’t have come after all. “I guess… listen I gotta go now, but you’ll be at the reception yeah?” you nodded, then he got up and walked away.

Before you knew it, music was starting to play but no one walked in yet, signalling that they were going to begin shortly. You took the time to admire the venue, there was a light lace fabric spanning from wall to wall, acting as a backdrop. The venue itself was a beautiful, dark brick building. Strewn around the room were fairy lights, making the atmosphere warmer. At the ends of every row were lanterns, containing light pink rocks and a burning candle. Across the aisle laid a white runway, each side having flower petals scattered, but left a clear path for the bridal party to walk down.

The doors swiftly opened and the music changed pace, one by one the bridal party began to walk down the aisle until the only person left was the bride. Each bridesmaid wore a different style of dress that complimented their style, but the color remained the same. Noticing that everyone was standing up, you stood up too, straightening out your dress. The orchestra played Canon in D, a wedding classic. Turning to Padme, you first took in her beauty. Her hair was curled to perfection, tied back only leaving a few hairs to frame her face. Her features were soft and angelic looking, you really couldn’t tell if she was wearing makeup or not. Your eyes drifted to her dress, it was truly magnificent. It was white with ivory detailing, her flowy sleeves made of lace. It was as if she was an angel sent from the heavens. You continued to admire her, then your eyes fell to her swollen belly, one hand clasped over it while the other was holding her bouquet. You were shocked to the core, Anakin really didn’t love you anymore, did he? Of course, you weren’t a silly girl, you knew that he was going to move on from you, but you hadn’t expected this.

Just as Padme took Anakin’s hand, you flopped down into your chair. The remainder of the guests sat down too, commencing the ceremony.

“Friends and family, we are joined here today to celebrate the wedding of Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker.” Hold on, wait a second. Was that Obi Wan? Your whole body perked up, looking for the strawberry blonde. You were surprised that they chose Obi Wan to be their officiant. Given the fact that they’re both famous, you’d assume they’d have an actual priest at their wedding. To ya’know, keep up their reputation and appeal to their audience.

You should've seen by the look in my eyes, that there was something missing.

“Marriage is a pathway to a promise between two beings. That they will always love and trust each other. Creating a bond that can never be broken. So I’ll ask this now before we continue. If anyone objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.” For a minute, the world around you stopped. All you could see was him, your Anakin. His eyes met your gaze, as if it was a silent plea.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you sunk into your seat. Oh gods, why did you just have to go to the store while Anakin was in town. All of this could’ve been avoided if you had just gone shopping on Monday, but who the hell goes grocery shopping on a Monday?

“Alright, now that we have that out of the way, let's allow the bride and groom to share a few words.” Obi Wan handed the microphone to Anakin.

You should've known by the tone of my voice, but you didn't listen.

“You know Padme, never in a million years did I think I’d be getting married.” ouch, “Let alone to the girl of my dreams.” wow, it seems like Anakin was trying to make you more miserable than you already were. “So it’s so amazing that I’m standing here today, with you. Within the five years I’ve known you, three of them consisting of us being together, I’ve come to know what type of person you are. Padme is selfless, loving, and strong-willed. After our first movie together, I just knew that I had to have her. Every time I’d ask you out on a date, you’d laugh and say ‘Ask me tomorrow, Anakin’” cue the laughing, “so that’s what I did. Finally when you said yes, I felt like I was going to explode with excitement. After our first date, I just knew that I would love you forever, Padme.”

‘Cause it was us baby way before them.

The sun was softly shining through your curtains, you felt a hand brushing through your hair. Letting out a soft groan, the hand stopped, “Oh, please don’t stop on my account, Ani.” You looked up at him, a smile forming on his lips, “Good morning, angel.” You gave him a quick peck before saying good morning back, getting up to get ready for the day.

“So what’s the plan for today, Anakin?” You asked from the bathroom, picking up your toothbrush you applied tooth paste then proceeded to brush your teeth. Anakin’s arms suddenly wrapped around your torso, his chin resting on your head. “How about you go treat yourself, go shopping, maybe hang out with some friends, and when you come home, I’ll have dinner ready. How does that sound?” You pondered for a minute before nodding your head.

By the time you had arrived home, it was already 6:50pm. Unlocking the door, a delicious smell wafted from the kitchen. First you took off your shoes, leaving them by the door. Next came your jacket, hanging it on the coat rack. You snuck up behind Anakin, wrapping your arms around his neck. You could say sneaky snuggles were a daily thing in your relationship. “Whatcha cookin good lookin?” Anakin let out a snort, “Only the best for my girlfriend. How about you go sit down while I bring the food to the table.” You turned to the table, noticing everything was already set up. You took your seat just as Anakin laid down the meal. Chicken parmesan with homemade lasagna.

“Oh Ani, my favorite! You didn’t have to, what’s the occasion?” You squealed

“No reason, like I said, only the best for my girl.” He smiled, lifting up his wine glass, you mirrored his actions, “I’d like to make a toast dedicated to you, my lovely, beautiful, amazing girlfriend. I love you, forever.”

And I meant every word I said, when I said that I love you, I meant that I love you forever.

You were full on blushing now, “I love you too, Ani. A toast, to forever.” The two of you joined glasses, a clink echoed in the near quiet apartment.

You were awoken from your flashback by loud applause, did you just daydream during the remainder of the wedding? You turned to the old lady next to you, “Is it over?” She turned to look at you, appalled by your appearance but nodded nonetheless. “Oh am I crying,” awkward laugh, “I always cry at weddings..” You turned to look away and instead focused on the bride and groom newly wedded husband and wife making their way down the aisle. Both adorning smiles on their faces.

The guests were ushered outside near an open bar area. You were encouraged to take pictures but chose to watch the workers as they changed the venue from ceremony mode to reception mode. You noticed they kept most of the decorations, only adding circular tables and necessities. The lanterns now became centerpieces while the flowers scattered down the aisle were now randomly placed across the room. There was a long, rectangular table arranged in front of the white backdrop. Obviously for Padme and Anakin, along with their bridal party and family. You looked around quickly before leaving to go to the bathroom. Once there you took a deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror. A gasp left your mouth, your looks were beyond atrocious. You closed your mouth before you could catch any flies and touched up your makeup.

Walking out of the bathroom you had nearly made it to the bar before you stumbled into somebody, “Hello there.” Seems like you couldn’t run away from your past, “Hello, Obi Wan. How are you?” After asking him, the two of you had spent the next fifteen minutes catching up on eachothers lives. Finally, the staff had announced that the tables were ready. Obi Wan promptly excused himself, now by yourself you went to go find your seat. To make your life easier, you went to the table where they had a list of names and where you could find your seat. You were sat at table three, pretty close to the front for someone who R.S.V.P.ed at the last second.

When you got to your table, you noticed there were already some people seated, none that you knew though. Sitting down, you began to mingle with your peers. Making small talk until the buffet was ready.

It took a while, but dinner was finally ready to start. You’d waited all day for this moment and you couldn’t wait. Once your table was dismissed, you got in line with a plate in your hand. The first thing you noticed was the variety, which was a good thing for you because you could eat to your heart's content. After making yourself a plate, you went back to your table to eat. You shoveled the delicious food into your mouth, hoping to get a second plate but you were interrupted by the clinking of glass. Toast time you thought to yourself, a frown upon your face. Darn, you were really keen on getting that second plate.

You zoned out during the toasts and eventually their first dance, all you could think about was getting out of this damn dress. You couldn’t wait to go home and take a hot shower while crying your eyes out. Coming back to the real world, you noted how everyone was standing up, crowding around Padme and Anakin as a cake was placed in front of them. Great, I really need to stop zoning out.

“Okay, before we continue with the cake cutting, I’d just like to say that not only is this cake to celebrate our marriage, but it’s also our gender reveal cake!” fuck, Fuck, FUCK..you really shouldn’t have come. God you’re so stupid, I mean why the fuck would would anyone think going to your exs wedding is a good idea. The room fell silent, anticipating the color of the cake. Gasps were let out when the piece of cake was shown. Pink and blue? Are they having- “Twins! We’re having twins!” Anakin shouted. You couldn’t breathe, you needed fresh air. You hurriedly stepped outside, choosing to sit down on a bench to try and collect your breath.

You must’ve been outside for a while because before you knew it, Anakin was sitting next to you. “What’re doing out here, Anakin? Shouldn’t you be inside dancing with your wife?” You asked.

“I wish..” Anakin scoffed, his eyebrows were furrowed deep in thought. “What do you mean? This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life. You just married the woman you love for crying out loud!” You protested.

Anakin let out a sigh, “Yeah, that’s just the thing. Padme was never supposed to get pregnant. We were never supposed to get married. The only reason why I proposed was because our agencies thought it would be good for our reputation.” This was some shocking news, you thought they truly loved each other. Well Anakin at least, you couldn’t speak for Padme.

“You know, the day after we broke up when I came to collect my belongings, I waited for you. I knew you were gone, waiting for me to finally leave. But I waited for you. For as long as I could.” You had no idea why Anakin was telling you this. Why would he bring something like this up… unless… no, it wasn’t possible.

When Anakin entered his your apartment, the first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. Sure, it was still morning, but you weren’t someone to sleep past 10 am. You had always enjoyed getting up early. It was before noon, so Anakin had just assumed you were out for brunch. He began to collect some of his belongings, only taking what was necessary. He didn’t want to take any of the pictures, just in case you missed him enough and wanted to longingly stare at them. So instead he took out his phone and took a photo of every picture he liked. The good, the bad, and the ugly; Anakin wanted to remember all of it. Entering your room, Anakin was quick to take what he needed. He almost left before he remembered the most important thing to him, his mother's ring. Anakin knew he couldn’t leave without so he went to find it. He searched high and low until he came across a box under the bed. Although the two of you were together, he never went through your things without permission. But Anakin was desperate, so he opened the box.

At first he was unsure of what he was looking at. Sure, the picture was simply black and white but he just couldn’t figure out what it was. Until his eyes drifted to the upper left hand corner, containing your full name, medical information, and the date. Was this what he thought it was? Were you pregnant? He took the ultrasound into his hands, forgetting about the ring.

He swore that at that very moment, he could’ve cried, and he did. What was he going to do now? He didn’t know if he should’ve waited for you to return or leave. On one hand he would be starting a family with you while on the other he would be following his dreams.

“So, you knew? That I was pregnant?” Anakin nodded his head, “..and you still chose to leave?” The words felt heavy on your tongue. “Believe me, I wanted to stay. For god's sake, y/n, I waited there for you. For HOURS! By the time I had to leave you still weren’t back. I had to choose between my passion and you. It wasn’t easy to make the decision, but you weren’t there and my future was awaiting me.” Anakin’s voice was quivering, it hurt him to think about this.

“Anakin, can I ask you a question?” Anakin nodded his head, motioning for you to go on. “The night we broke up, if I had told you that I was pregnant; would you have stayed?” His mouth opened as if he was going to answer, only for it to snap shut. Tears welled up in your eyes, you had your answer, “You know what, it doesn’t matter, it’s not like I kept the baby.” You shook your head, not wanting to cry in front of Anakin. You stood up, gathering your things and left without uttering another word to him. Everything he said to you was a lie, because if he had really loved you, he would’ve stayed.

And I'm gonna keep on loving you, because it's the only thing I wanna do.

By the time you had gotten home, you had much time to think. You’d spent the past five years dreaming of that exact moment. You would’ve told him you were pregnant, and in return he would’ve chosen to be with you. The two of you would get married and live a happy life with your children. But those dreams were shattered by the harsh reality. Anakin wouldn’t have stayed and he wouldn’t have married you.

Moving into the bathroom, you removed your makeup, seeing as it was ruined by your tears, again. Taking off your clothes, you hopped into the hot shower. You were going to cry but decided to give your eyes a rest since you had basically cried all the way home. After changing into your pajamas you creeped into your room.. Slowing making your way to bed, you got under the covers. Once you had almost fallen asleep, you felt something lay on your chest. You gently started stroking her hair, “Sorry, did I wake you, Shani?” you asked softly, a quiver in your voice.

“No, it’s okay momma. I was waiting for you to get home.” Her voice was quiet and delicate. “Are you okay momma?” Although she was barely five, she was a smart girl. She looked up, noticing your eyes were swollen. She must’ve heard the falter in your voice.

“Of course I am Ani, I’ve got my little angel with me.” She gently laid her head back down, her small arms doing their best to wrap around you. You continued stroking her hair until her breathing evened out, signalling she was asleep.

Soon after, you found yourself dozing off to the thought of what could’ve been.

I don't wanna sleep, I just wanna keep on loving you.

#Anakin Skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagine #Anakin Skywalker x Padme Amidala #Padme Amidala #obi wan kenobi #sw #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

In the Bleak Midwinter {5}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: Some chapters only have room for one viewpoint. You know...emotionally.

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

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The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

Lorcan and Elide walked into the grand hall, where tables were spread about covered in golden tablecloths, candles, and expensive dinnerware. Wine glasses were at the head of every plate, and Lorcan found himself wondering what they would be drinking as Elide waved to Aelin across the room. He wasn’t a fan of wine, anything sweet made him angry just thinking about attempting to digest the shit.

Good thing he had a flask in his pocket.

It was good to always be prepared.

Rowan and Aelin managed to break away from the elderly couple they had been chatting with to meet Lorcan and Elide in the middle of the room. Aelin complimented Elide’s gown while Elide brushed her fingers lovingly over the pricey boa around Aelin’s neck – which, Lorcan took as a hint for his next gift.

“Who was that?” Lorcan muttered.

“Some rich couple planning to donate an ass-ton of money to something or another,” Rowan mumbled back.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “He works under close proximity with the Prime Minister, I’d be kissing his ass if I were you.”

Rowan snorted and whispered something into his wife’s ear that made her blush.

Elide gagged. “We’re in public, don’t be whispering naughty nothings into her ear.”

“Naughty nothings?” Lorcan repeated.

Elide elbowed him in the ribs before turning her attention to the stage as the big band began to play.

“I hate this music,” Lorcan mumbled. “It’s ridiculous. It’s loud.”

“Try not to sound like a grumpy old man for one night,” Elide crooned, a big grin plastered on her lips.

“Impossible, it comes naturally,” Lorcan protested, but he pulled her closer to his side, kissing her cheek.

Elide turned to him and he was already uneasy at the glint in her eye. She was about to ask something that he would want to say no to but would not, because she was the one asking it.

“Do you wanna dance?”

Lorcan sighed, and she laughed at his hesitation, but was already pulling him into the space in the middle of all the tables that had been cleared for those to dance. Without another protest, Lorcan was pulling Elide into his arms and spinning her around.

Yes, he hated the music.

Yes, he hated dancing.

But gods, he loved Elide Lochan Salvaterre.

And nothing compared to her smile, to the light in her eyes, to the utter joy she got from dancing with her husband.

He spun her around and caught her a second later, his hand resuming its position on her waist as his lips caught hers.

“Careful,” she warned, when he pulled back. “People around here will start thinking you’re soft and you have a reputation to uphold.”

“As long as they know I’m only soft for you,” he replied, his hand tightening around hers.

Elide’s eyes softened as the song ended and they began their walk to their table, where Gavriel, Fenrys, and Connall were already sitting. On the way to the table, they passed a waiter carrying a tray and Lorcan grabbed Elide a glass of champagne, which she humbly accepted.

“Lorcan!”

His name rang out, but he couldn’t tell the direction it came from. He looked to his left, where Rowan was pulling a gun out of his jacket, and Lorcan’s heart stopped as a shot rang out, into the grand hall.

Rowan’s shot rang out a second later, and Lorcan’s eyes followed that bullet as it met the chest of a man in a black fedora that stood in the doorway, his gun pointed at Lorcan.

The man fell down.

Another shot rang out.

His accomplice fell to the ground, as well.

Lorcan’s arm around Elide suddenly felt heavier, and time seemed to go slower as he looked to his wife, as the champagne glass fell from her white-gloved hand and shattered against the tile.

Chaos began, those who were attending the gala suddenly in a panic as they grabbed their loved ones and ran, their screams echoing in the large room. The band had abruptly stopped, those who had been on the stage gone, disappeared into the fleeing crowd.

But Lorcan didn’t pay mind to any of them, because his wife had gone still. Her eyes were wide, staring at him as his eyes fell down to where her other hand laid against her ribs, her white glove coated in crimson.

Lorcan wasn’t processing it.

Couldn’t process it.

Didn’t understand what was happening, not in the slightest. He heard nothing, everything had faded, all of it becoming background noise to the ringing in his ears. He was unsure why Elide was looking at him with pure panic, didn’t know why she was falling against him, didn’t know why her glove was ruined, covered in blood.

Her blood.

It was Elide’s blood.

She was bleeding.

Lorcan’s name was being screamed again, Elide’s name was being screamed, but Lorcan was falling to the floor, Elide in his arms, Elide gripping his sleeve, Elide whispering his name, her voice breaking.

Then it hit him.

It all hit him.

His heart began to race.

His palms grew sweaty, his forehead clammy, his cheeks wet as silent tears flowed down his cheeks.

She had gotten shot.

The man that had entered the room, those men, they were Maeve’s men, the one had pointed his gun at Lorcan…

And had hit Elide.

In the ribs.

Elide had been shot in the ribs.

He met her gaze, a soft sob shaking his body as he held her in his arms, sitting on the cold tile, his boots beneath him.

“No,” he breathed, and palmed her cheek, turning her face to meet his gaze, fully. “No, no, no, no, no, no.”

He was panicking.

He was having a panic attack.

Chaos surrounded him, two men were murdered, by Rowan, in the doorway, two of Maeve’s men, two men who had come to kill them, two men who had Elide’s blood on their hands.

Elide.

He whispered her name, and she opened her mouth but nothing came out. A single tear fell from her dark eyes, she found his hand and wrapped her fingers around his, both coated in blood. Lorcan didn’t even remember touching the wound, didn’t even remember any of it.

Time stood still.

Time was blurry.

Time was meaningless.

Everything was meaningless if Elide wasn’t there.

She was fading.

He could see it in her eyes, could see the sorrow, could see the beauty, the light, fading away.

“Elide,” he sobbed, and he wasn’t sure if he whispered it or screamed it, wasn’t sure who was at his back with a hand on his shoulder, wasn’t sure who was crying behind Elide, wasn’t sure of anything, anything at all.

“Gods no, gods no, gods, fuck.” He heard his voice, heard the endless string of words, knew that it was his voice, but it sounded so far away, sounded so desperate.

Elide took a deep, shuttering breath, then her lips formed one word.

Lucy.

Lucy, their baby, Lucy, their child, Lucy, whose mother was lying, bleeding out, on tile of white marble.

“Lucy,” Lorcan repeated, and his tears were flowing from his cheeks onto her skin.

Elide nodded, subtly, slowly. “Lorcan.” His name, hardly audible from her pale lips.

He nodded, gripping her hand so tightly that he feared he would leave a bruise on her delicate, pale skin.

Elide’s eyes closed as she whispered, “I love you both.”

“No!” Lorcan screamed, and this time he knew he screamed, this time he felt the word tear into his body, into his soul. That one word, that single fucking word, ripped him apart and sent him into an endless void of panic and fear. “Open your eyes, El, open your fucking eyes!”

She did, she met his gaze, once more, eyes full of sadness and regret, then the sadness faded and complete adoration had her tearing up.

“Lor,” she breathed, those eyes going hazy, distant.

Lorcan’s voice broke when he answered, as calmly as he could muster, “I’m here.”

She was looking up at the ceiling, those beautiful eyes unfocused, as a small, serene smile captured her lips.

The land in Lorcan’s went limp.

And Elide Lochan Salvaterre went still.

But Lorcan continued to hold her, close to his body as his loud, piercing wail flooded the room. He held his wife’s head to his chest and hoped through some rare kind of miracle that the heart beating wildly, rioting, inside of his chest would somehow pour into hers and ignite it once more.

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

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#tacmc ITBMW #elorcan #rowaelin #lyseadion #period au #1920s au #PB au

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imagine-the-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Honesty -- Part 3

Characters: Goro Majima x Reader X Daigo Dojima

Warnings: Cheating, smuttiness, toxic relationship traits

Inspiration: “Wasted on You” by Evanescence ; “Invincible” by Crossfade ; “i hate u, i love u (feat. Olivia O’) by gnash

A/n: Been a hot minute since I shared some smutty goodness. Hope it’s enjoyable!

Majima pulled you inside the room as quickly as he could, and his hands cradled your head, holding it in place as he kissed you more. Your hands rested on his jacket as the two of you continued to kiss. You grabbed the lapels of his jacket and tried to take it off, but he wrapped his hands around your wrists, pulling them back from his jacket before breaking the kiss.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Majima asked, breathless. His eye searched both of yours for any hint of hesitation. “Your fiancé is downstairs waiting for you.”

“I don’t care. I want you, and I want you now,” You said, pressing your lips to his.

Majima let your hands fall and he shrugged off his jacket. Your hands started working on his tie, untying it and pulling it out from his collar, dropping it to the floor as you started to unbutton his shirt. His hands roamed your body, breaking the kiss for a moment to look at you, searching your eyes for something, but you had no idea what.

“What’s wrong?” You stopped unbuttoning his shirt, looking into his eye.

He took your hands in his again, holding them between the two of you. “I’m not sure we should do this,” he admitted quietly.

“What do you mean? I want this,” you assured. “I’m a willing participant in whatever happens.”

“Exactly,” Majima’s heart broke as he looked at you. “I love you, Y/n. I’ll never stop, but you’re marrying someone else. I can’t stand back and watch that, and it’s only going to be harder if we do this.”

“What are you saying?” You were breathless. Was he rejecting you? “Goro, don’t do this.”

“Y/n…” You could see the pain on his face, the heartache was radiating off of him.

“I’m serious, please don’t turn me away,” you were begging. You needed him. You needed the way he made you feel. You needed to feel loved by him again.

He didn’t let go of your hands but he averted his gaze, turning his head and looking at the carpet. “Goro Majima, look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want this,” you demanded.

“I don’t answer to you,” Majima replied quietly, “not anymore.”

“You never did,” you reminded him. “You treated me like shit, cheating on me all the time, and I returned it so I’m no better.” You paused. “Look me in the eyes and say you don’t want this.”

Majima looked into your eyes, trying to say it, but couldn’t.

“You can’t. You want this as much as I do. I don’t want to leave this room with regret. Please, Goro, don’t turn me away.” Begging was hard for you, but you couldn’t give up. “I need some piece of joy, and—”

He cut you off, pressing his lips to yours, dropping your hands, exchanging them for your neck. His hands rested on either side, pulling your lips to him as he let himself be consumed by the misery of missing you. You were, for one last moment, his again, and he had no intention of letting you go now, not when you both wanted it so bad. You were a drug, and he needed his fix.

It was mutual. So much time had passed, and the two of you fit together so perfect; the puzzle pieces that were the two of you joined once again, and it was bliss.

“I don’t have any condoms,” Majima admitted breaking the kiss for a moment, looking to you with hesitation.

“I don’t care.” You pulled him down to meet your lips and you finished unbuttoning his shirt.

He pulled at his sleeves, letting the red shirt fall to the ground. His kisses moved to your neck, dipping lower and lower. Frustration and anger filled him as he realized just how low cut this dress was. He already hated Daigo, but this just solidified it even more. Your hands tangled in his hair as you hummed. He came back up to your neck, and your hands moved to his chest as one of his legs found it’s place between your legs. In seconds he had you pinned to the door, kissing you with all the passion that he bore for you. He hiked the skirt of your dress up before he broke the kiss.

“Let’s get this thing off ya, yeah? Don’t wanna wreck it.” Majima’s voice was low and you turned around, holding your hair up so he could unhook the collar of your dress.

He made quick work of it, kissing the back of your neck, reaching for the zipper on the side. He pulled it down slowly before forcefully turning you around again, pulling the dress off of you and tossing it off to the side. His lips were on yours yet again, one hand holding your wrists above your head, the other kneading your chest. You moaned into his mouth, grinding against his leg, feeling the familiar wetness between your thighs.

“Ya really missed me, huh?” Majima couldn’t help but chuckle, trailing kisses down your body, placing a singular kiss on your thigh before pulling your lace panties off and tossing them aside as well.

He continued to kiss, adjusting your legs so he could kiss between your thighs. Your hands found home in his hair.

“Goro…” You moaned.

He looked up at your face, enjoying the sight of your head tilted back, eyes closed in ecstasy. His kisses trailed back up before they were focused on your neck. Your hands scrambled with his belt, quickly removing his belt and tossing it to the side. He grabbed your neck as his kisses returned to your lips. You unbuttoned his pants, taking a moment to feel the erection he had. This time he was the one moaning into your mouth.

He guided you to the bed, pushing you down. He took a moment to appreciate your naked form before removing his pants and climbing on top of you. You were lip locked again, taking in every sound, every touch the two of you shared. His fingers played with you, sliding in and out at a pace that made you whine, wanting more. He didn’t give it to you, though. He pulled his fingers out when he thought you were ready for him, licking them as he stared into your eyes. He aligned himself and entered you, shivering a moment before kissing your neck as he began to thrust.

It wasn’t slow, but he wanted to savor this. You felt better than he remembered, and this wasn’t the mindless sex you normally had; this was bittersweet lovemaking.

“Goro…” You moaned; your eyes closed.

“I’ve missed ya, Princess.” His lips brushed against your neck as he spoke.

He took your wrists in one hand once again, putting them above your head as he continued to fuck you. The two of you groaned and moaned and panted as your hips would meet him, pushing him deeper, enticing him to pick up the pace. He happily obliged.

“Wait,” You pressed a hand to his chest, and he stopped moving, his dick twitching inside you. “Let’s do something else.”

He pulled out and you rolled onto your hands and knees. He knew what you wanted then, grabbing your ass in one hand and lining up once again before entering you. His hands held your hips, and you arched your back. He started thrusting again, harder and faster than before. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you to him. He leaned down, kissing whatever he could reach as he continued.

“Goro!” You were starting to shout his name in pleasure as he kept going. The sound making him go harder, faster. Reaching down to play with you. He knew you were close, he could feel it, and this would push you over the edge. “Goro,” You moaned louder, “I’m—”

“I know, Princess, just let it happen,” Majima muttered against your skin. “Ride the waves, baby.”

Your vision blurred as you came, the waves of pleasure washing over you. The pulsing of your orgasm caused Majima to moan, thrusting more and more until he too met his release. He stayed inside, leaning down to rest on top of you for a moment, catching his breath. He kissed your cheek and pulled out.

“Let’s get ya cleaned up, Princess,” He muttered, rolling over and laying on his back for a split second before getting up and grabbing some tissues. He took care of cleaning you up, gentle and loving, just like it was your first time.

“I love you,” you said thoughtlessly, watching him.

“Don’t,” Majima said, closing his eyes. “Don’t say that. Not when you’re about to marry someone else.”

“I’d leave him for you,” you were no longer speaking thoughtlessly. You meant this.

“Y/n. Don’t.” Majima finished cleaning you up and threw the tissues in the trash before grabbing fresh ones and cleaning himself off. “Bathroom’s yers first,” he sighed, motioning you off towards the bathroom. “If ya go down smellin’ like sex, Daigo’s gonna have a fit.”

You watched him a moment before getting off the bed to finish cleaning up. You felt like you were going to cry, and then you realized the tears were already falling. You looked in the mirror. Your hair was a mess, your makeup was worse, and you had that post-sex look on your face that wouldn’t go away for hours. One look at you and Daigo would know. You sat on the toilet, crying a bit for your broken heart.

You didn’t know, but Majima was standing outside the door listening to you cry. His heart was shattering, and his own tears were falling.

You left the bathroom, and Majima went in after you, washing himself before drying and leaving the bathroom to dress. You already had your panties on and were pulling your dress up. He watched, taking it in. This would probably be the last time he would get to see you like this, and his heart continued to break. He pulled on his boxers and went over to help you. He kissed your back as he zipped your dress and re-clasped the choker. You turned around and kissed hips one last time. He started dressing again, and this time you helped him. You tucked in his shirt, smiling.

“Feels like old times, doesn’t it?” You asked.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” In truth this was so different then it was back then, at least for him it was. He sighed, he wanted you back in his arms every night. He wanted to be with you regularly, whenever you would let him share those intimate moments with him.

You buttoned his shirt, lifting his collar and sliding his tie around, slowly tying it into the same knot it had been before as his hands rested on your waist. He watched you lovingly, nostalgic for when this was normal for the two of you. You hummed as you tied the tie.

“That’s our song,” Majima muttered, watching you.

You just kept humming before patting his chest with your hands. “All set,” you sighed, looking up at him.

He kissed you, catching you off-guard but you kissed him back. Neither of you wanted to leave this hotel room, but both of you had to. Your fiancé was downstairs. His boss was downstairs. The fact they were the same person just made it more complicated for the two of you.

Obligations called and the two of you left the room.

#Yakuza #Goro Majima #Majima #Goro Majima x reader #Majima x reader #Daigo #Daigo Dojima #Daigo x reader #Daigo Dojima x reader

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anotherbeingsworld · 4 years

Text

I’ll See You Again

Pairing: Sienna Trinh x Danny Cardinal

Summary: A depth look in Sienna’s and Danny’s relationship until the night before it all went down.

Warning: Mentions of death. Besides that, its a fluffy and bittersweet tale.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, except the storyline. All characters are owned by Pixelberry.

A/N: I am backkk, well.. not literally. I took a small chunk of my time to write this to celebrate our girl Sienna, and for the @siennatrinhappreciationblog ! This is my submission for Day 1 of Sienna Trinh Appreciation week and this is my first time writing for them, I hope I hit the mark! I have been quite mixed feelings in life right now, it is both a good and bad time-ish, it feels like a lot and, i am so sorry if I am lack on updates for bryce fics, I hope to write soon without hesitation and everything else that is going on! So, no one told me that life is gonna be this way.... sjssksk, i am surviving at its finest! I hope all of you are doing amazing, and thank you for everything! I apologize in advance if there is any grammatical errors! Enjoy!

Tags: @siennatrinhappreciationblog , @mvalentine , @drethanramslay , @storyofmychoices , @jaxsmutsuo , @fantasyoverreality98 , @bratzlahela , @choicesficwriterscreations @aylamwrites , @baltersome , @kelseaaa , @thundergom, @ohramsey , @ohvamsey , @mrsbhandari , @starrystarrytrouble ( I don’t have a perma tag list and this isnt a Bryce fic, sooo... I am tagging a few peeps!)

LINK TO MASTERLIST

The small moments they spend as the sun sets at the house party, as they talked about life, tv-shows, good memories, cringey moments and life is one of the best moments for her. The moments followed, was a series of smiles caught in-between shifts, as their hands brushed on the nurses counter, or the introduction of 50s movies that made her smile, including a monologue of Danny reciting the lines of a damsel in distress that made her heart leapt in joy.

She had Wayne, but the feeling with him cant be compared as he made her feel unimportant, as if there is a barrier in between that keeps on stopping her from seeing the light. Danny Cardinal is a different one, a new presence that somehow she didn’t know she needed. Someone who sees her more than Wayne ever does, someone who appreciates her talents along with their quirky interests that made them compatible one way or another.

She never told her roommates, the day they went out to Donahue together, a moment of silence as Sienna finally had the courage to invite him for a drink, after her break-up with Wayne. She wasn’t ready to move on yet, but…she felt like she needed a friend. Someone to talk too, someone who she could relate in a way, and that’s where Danny Cardinal made his entrance.

‘I just break up with my long-time boyfriend..’ It suddenly slips out of her tongue, somehow she was wallowing it after their confrontation with Casey earlier.

He wasn’t ready. He didn’t expect that news would drop as they just finished work.

‘OH-, are you okay? Do you need anything, we could go back if you want!’ His voice filled with caution, as he tries to comfort her in the most awkward way he could think of at the moment.

Sienna smiles at his reaction, it was a mixture of cute and adorable which she is aware that it is similar. A laugh stifle out of her, as Danny smiles too. Mirroring her expression, he found himself being very careful as he slips his fingers into her, giving her a squeeze, equivalent to the saying, ‘everything is going to be alright.’

She felt happy, a different kind of happiness. That night was the start of it all, a small gesture that is worth more than a thousand words. It was called, something new. She recalls the small gesture, when she is down, or mad, or even sad, as a way to assure herself that she is going to be alright.

Until that unfortunate day, the fear in her started to show as seeing her best friend, and him there in the room somehow being sacrificed for an evil plan. She recalls their small talks the night before, as he was seen bringing her a cup of coffee after the long day they both had, their small talks is something normal in other people’s eyes, as it is an escape for them into the world.

‘A cup of brownie chocolate drink for one Sienna Trinh?’ His voice in a sing-song as he passed the cup to her.

‘…And, a cup of Hazelnut Latte for Danny Cardinal courtesy of Casey, and her access to Dr. Ramsey’s coffee machine.’ She whispered the last part of the sentence making him laugh as his voice boomed through the empty hospital hallways.

‘Free coffee too, count me in?’ Danny said happily taking a sip of his drink, as Sienna does the same.

‘How was your day?’ She asked, as they walked through the hallways; one of the reasons she manages to keep herself sane after all the insanity from her day as a second-year resident.

‘It was…’ He went silence, as he took another sip before continuing.

‘The Senator’s case. It was odd, and weird. I know I shouldn’t questioned anything, but he gave me some bad vibes, including his assistant Travis, they both kinda gave me a weird vibe. I felt like Travis was lurking his way down the halls, somehow searching for something… and it creeps me out.’ A shiver escaped him, as they arrived at the quiet cafeteria.

‘I heard about him, he is the one who came from Mass Kenmore right?’ Sienna asked, recalling the info Casey told her about her heist with Baz at MK.

He nod, taking another sip.

‘How was yours?’

She lets out a sigh, followed by a groan.

‘I am guessing, it was bad..?’ His voice slowly, as Sienna nods in return.

‘It wasn’t horrible, but…it felt tiring. I just feel like I have to do everything and Mitch isn’t helping one bit, and there is this kid, he is suffering with all these decisions and... ugh!’ She lets out a groan of frustration once more, earning an ‘I’m sorry’ look on Danny’s face.

She tried to plastered a smile on her face, an attempt to make herself look stronger. But, somehow she felt like she can’t fake it, a part of her wanted to fake a smile, and just brushed the topic off.

‘You know you don’t have to be strong in front of me Sienna, it’s okay to be sad once in a while…’ Danny stated with a slow tone, a comforting one.

‘Doctors were supposed to be strong, its our job to be strong for our patients…’

‘And yet, we are humans Sienna. We can cry, smile, laugh and get ourselves angry because we are human. Those feelings are valid, and it means you are you. There is honestly nothing wrong with that okay?’ Danny moved to the opposite side of the table, taking a seat beside her. In a split second, she founds herself leaning onto the comfort of his hugs. The universal language that will never gets old, kisses are great and all, but… hugs are even better. He place his arms around her shoulder, as the cold environment around them was a hazy memory.

‘You know you give good hugs don’t you Danny?’ Sienna said in between the hugs, as their drinks started to cool off.

‘Hey, its apart of who I am! Don’t tell Bryce, he once told me that he was the best hugger in Edenbrook.’ A laugh stifled out of her once more, her troubles were behind.

‘Don’t worry, besides Casey; you are definitely a close second.’ She winks at him, as they enjoyed their presumably final moments together.

It was almost dawn, as both of their pagers were paged at the same time. Both of them rushed, at the same time trying to keep in moment as they enjoyed their small company together without any interruptions from the real world.

A few minutes after, they arrived at their pin-point where they would have to say ‘goodbye’. In that moment, without hesitation; a gut feeling inside told her; hug him. It can somehow be your last time seeing his face.

He looks at her in disbelief at first, but who ever declines a hug? He hugs her back, the feeling of comfort that somehow the key of keeping both of them sane is one ways or another. A gesture that she would love to get used to, hugging Danny. Maybe more than the other. After a while, they pulled away. A small smile linger on her face, as she left the nursing station; a contained feeling in her heart. She turns her head back, meeting his eyes once more. He waves from afar, as she waves back as they resume their lives.

And, that morning was the last time she saw his face. The last time she would feel his touch, the final cup of coffee together, and… their final hug. As Danny was one of the victims of Travis’s plan on murdering the Senator.

The sadness from before suddenly felt in her once again, without the comfort of his hugs and words. She felt herself wanting to break down, as the news escaped the lips of Dr. Ramsey.

Sienna tried to stay strong, as she stood behind the glass. With a full of pain in her heart, meeting Casey’s emerald’s which is fill with sympathy. She mouthed, ‘I’m so sorry’. As the tears threatened to fall from her eyes, Jackie scoot towards her way and bring her into the group’s embrace.

‘Don’t you dare die. No coma’s either. Just…hold the line, hear me?’ Her voice booms through the glass, as tear started to fall.

As all of them were ushered away, working on the treatment. Sienna looked back, as she saw Bryce walking into the room with a hazmat suit on him, a small smile on her face; knowing Casey wont be alone for the time being. She glanced back once more, before moving forward with the rest of the team.

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

The same smile appeared once more, after Casey was saved. She couldn’t lose another one of the people she cared about, and… she engulfed her with a bear hug, the lost and comfort from the day before started to catch up to her. The day she lost Danny, and the day her best friend is save. Two different events that change her life in a way.

Funerals were meant to celebrate the life that was lived, staring at the black theme-d attire in her room, she wasn’t ready to face it. She wasn’t ready to face the day, where she would see him for the final time. The final time, where she could picture the smile on his face, as the memories from the past days would play in her mind again and again; as a way to comfort her sorrows.

She glanced at her room, somehow looking at it for the first time. Her eyes gaze upon the lines of furniture, and it stops at the wall of pictures. Somehow, all of the good memories from her intern year was on that wall, reminding her the good times of it all. Her eyes stop at one, she remembered it all too well.

A photo, both herself and Danny were sleeping on the couch after the party, that her friends took. She was mad at first, but… she realizes that was one of the earliest memories of herself and Danny, and she was grateful for it.

She didn’t join in the others, as a way to cope herself with all of it. She took the long way down, a way to be with her own thoughts, as after a while; the cemetery was in view. The number of nurses, workers, families, and many more had came by to express their thoughts. A way of remembering the ones that has gone, she glances at the crowd as she stood beside Dr. Ramsey who is somehow standing in the back of it all.

It was silence between them, as she glance upon the familiarity of the voice. It was Casey’s as she takes the lead, a smile upon her face from the stories that she managed to recalled from both Danny’s and Bobby’s time at Edenbrook, they were heroes. They will never be forgotten, somehow; it was one of the things that made saying goodbye very hard.

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

Afterwards, she founds herself linger behind. The skies are dark, upon the lost of two souls. Taking a small Laelia Orchid in her hand, making her way to both of them. Her tears stained cheek are visible, through the darkness of the sky. She places the flower in both of their caskets, a final goodbye.

The walk back to the hospital was accompanied by memories, smiles, laughter and even the warmth of his comfort accompanying her way back. She smiled despite it all, knowing that Danny is always going to be there, a comfort for her; as she took a sip of his favorite drink or, the moment where she stumbled at one of the movies from their trip to the Common. A reminder that he is always going to be apart of her, helping her through this life. As a human being, a doctor, a friend… and maybe in another lifetime; something even bigger than before.

She knows that she will see him again, very very soon.

THE END.

#playchoices #open heart #sienna trinh #sienna x danny #siennatrinhappreciationweek #danny cardinal #fics #anotherbeingsworldwrites #open heart second year #tw:death

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geeeooorrrge · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Formula 1 RPF Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen Characters: Charles Leclerc, Max Verstappen, Pierre Gasly, Alexander Albon, Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo, Sebastian Vettel Additional Tags: Organized Crime, Alternate Universe - Criminals, not your ordinary crime au, cyberpunk vibes, Escape, Angst with a Happy Ending

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hi everyone, am reposting this because i had itchy fingers and decided to write a vvv short followup to this fic below the cut ↓ if you guys do get to it i hope you’ll like it! askbox is always open :) ♥

Leonardo pulled him into the apartment by the hand and let the door shut behind him. One of his arms curled tightly around Elio’s waist, holding him close as the fingers of his other hand danced gently over Elio’s face.

He looked so stunning, and Elio missed him so much, and his heart was bursting with so much joy that he didn’t know what to do with it, so much joy that Elio finally started to cry.

Leonardo chuckled as Elio’s hand traced his brow in return, his own tears spilling down his cheeks. His skin was so soft under Elio’s touch. His laugh was so gentle. More tears rolled over his cheekbones even as Elio swept them away.

“I love you,” Elio said.

Leonardo was smiling again as he cupped the side of Elio’s neck, his dimples showing. “Still?” he asked.

“Always,” Elio whispered.

Leonardo leaned closer, slowly, until his lips were pressed on Elio’s and gently working on them as Elio desperately grasped the back of his t-shirt. He smelled – he smelled different, but at the same time so familiar, he smelled like trains and cooking grease and dish detergent and the summer, and kissing him felt like coming home after a year stranded in the wilderness.

“I love you more,” he breathed, and God. Elio missed his voice so much. “I’ve thought about you every day. Every single day. I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

“Me, neither,” Elio pulled away to press his forehead against Leonardo’s. “Max, I – Leo. I love you so much. I’ve missed you so much. It hurts. It hurts so much.”

“Shhh, okay,” Leonardo whispered. “I’m here. We’re here now. We have us. Okay? We’ll always have us.”

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Elio sobbed. “And it was the worst thing. It was the worst.”

“I know. I lived through that, too. I know everything.”

“I love you.”

Leonardo’s laugh was softer this time, more tender. “Already?” he asked. “You’ve only just met me.”

Elio couldn’t help but laugh then, the feeling so thick in his chest, so intimate, as if Leonardo was squeezing his heart with his own two hands. “Thank you for keeping me.”

“Charl – Elio. I was never free without you. I know I got away, but...without you, it meant nothing. I never felt free because you were never by my side.”

Elio pulled away for good, holding Leonardo by the shoulders. His eyes were shimmering with tears, shimmering blue in the dim lighting like two aquamarine crystals, and the sight of it just made Elio shiver with all the love he failed to contain.

“We’ll be together now?” he asked in a whisper. “We’ll be free together.”

Leonardo nodded. “It was always meant to be like this. It was always meant to be me and you. Only me and you. We’re meant to be together.”

Elio remembered – he remembered saying that, and the fact that Leonardo remembered it –

Elio kissed him again, this time fuelled by a sudden hunger. He pressed his body up against Leonardo, smiling when he felt Leonardo’s hands wander south.

They were a bundle of half-undone clothes and intertwined limbs by the time they got into the bedroom. The sheets murmured softly in protest under Elio as he was flung down on them, and suddenly they were all wet lips and starving hands, the friction of their bodies so familiar and so welcoming.

Leonardo’s grasp was still soft, his wandering palms still gentle, as if it was their first time all over again, but the way he knew each part of Elio's body, the way his lips and his tongue moved, it was like they'd already known each other for years. His golden hair felt rougher under Elio's fingers than it looked. The kisses he planted on Elio’s neck, on his face, on his abdomen – they made Elio crave for more, they made him move his body in ways he’d forgotten how to move, just to get more of them. The way he gasped as they rocked against each other made Elio do the same, suddenly so breathless as he looked directly into those blue eyes that he loved more than anything. And the sounds he made, every little grunt, every murmur – all of it felt like coming home, all of it felt like the familiar sounds of home.

Elio sunk into the pillow as Leonardo collapsed on him, breathing loudly into Leonardo’s neck. He sucked on Leonardo’s earlobe as he shuddered, then planted even more wet kisses along Elio’s jaw.

“I love you,” Leonardo whispered. “Elio. My love.”

“I love you, too.” Elio kissed him on his sweaty forehead. “So much. More than you’ll know.”

They lay across from each other, smiling softly. Elio just. He just wanted to live in that moment forever, he wanted to live in the cool lighting of the room, the warmth of the rosy curtains, the dim illumination from the streetlights below, and the softness of the eyes looking over lovingly at him. In the gentle grasp of his Leonardo. He wanted to live in it forever.

“Tell me how you’ve been.” Elio kept his voice as soft as possible, afraid to burst their bubble.

“I lived in a few places. I – back home...back in the US,” Leonardo quickly corrected himself. “I had to move around in a few cities before I managed to get enough money to come to Europe. I got here in February. I lived in Spain for a bit, in Madrid, then in Paris for a month. Places where it's easy to be invisible. I’ve only been in Rome a couple of months.”

His voice was like the most soothing music. Elio wished he would never stop talking.

“Do you still…”

“Steal things?” There was a wry smile on Leonardo’s face. “No. I’ve been working. Just...little things. In a bookstore, or at restaurants or bars. Just enough to get by.”

“It must’ve been lonely,” Elio whispered. He remembered Leonardo telling him that he had no skills besides stealing, and to deal with that alone, to roam the world alone while dealing with what he could or couldn’t be… “It must’ve been horrible.”

Leonardo’s smile faltered a little, like even the memory of the feeling was enough to break his heart.

“I thought about you every day,” he said again, softly. “And looked at that Polaroid of you. It got me by.”

His hair was smooth but sweaty when Elio ran his fingers through it, and he keened into Elio’s grasp. “That’s what got me by, too,” Elio said. “I just...I kept wondering if you were alive.”

“I am alive. I’m right here.”

“I just –” Elio tried his hardest not to start crying again. “When you left, it was...it seemed like it was for forever. I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

“Because I knew that if I made you think I’d come back to look for you, and I didn’t, or I couldn’t, then it would kill you. I couldn’t do that to you. I had to make you think it was forever. But I always knew that I would. Some way or another, I’d always go back for you.”

“I waited so long. I know you told me not to, but I waited and I waited, and I worried about you so much, and I thought you would never...never come back for me again.”

"I would. I promised you, remember? I promised you I would take you."

Elio smiled. "And I promised I would let you."

“Were you ever angry? That I left?”

Elio shook his head. “I know it was something you had to do. I could’ve helped you. You know that. I know that. We could’ve easily helped you. We had connections. But...but it was what you wanted. And I just...I didn't know what was coming, but I figured I would just wait.”

“I knew I had to give you time.” Leonardo’s voice was but a whisper. “For everything. I didn’t want to...I didn’t want it to be wrong timing again. I knew if it was, then it would absolutely shatter me. If you didn’t come, and you couldn’t tell me. It would break me into pieces. It would break the both of us.”

“It was enough time.” Elio traced Leonardo’s hairline with his index finger. “Just enough time.”

“One year? Yeah?” The smile returned to Leonardo’s face, just like how automatic it seemed whenever he met Elio’s gaze.

“It was the worst year of my life. And I’ve...I’ve been through some shit before this. Nothing tops it.”

“Is everything...everything’s alright back there? When you left?”

Elio remembered thinking about how he’d wanted to tell Leonardo everything.

But now that he was here, now that he’d seen Leonardo again, he realised – that was all just his old life.

His old, abandoned life.

Elio was free now.

Elio and Leonardo were free now. Free from all their past mistakes. From...what Leonardo had done.

They were free from Rosehurst. Free from everything and everyone they used to know.

As much as it hurt, Elio knew that it was something they’d chosen to do. Something they had to live with from now.

They had to be Leonardo and Elio, not Max and Charles.

“You don’t want to tell me?” Leonardo asked when Elio didn’t answer for a while.

“I don’t think I should.”

Leonardo smiled like he understood. His fingers were gentle again on Elio’s cheeks. “Okay. We won't talk about it ever again.”

“Maybe just one little thing.”

“Yeah?”

"We can't go back," Elio said, hoping Leonardo would get the point. “We can never go back. But I fixed everything. Just before I received your postcard. I fixed everything, and Dan and Lando have a family now, and your uncle will be just fine with them, and I made sure everything was good before I came here.”

Leonardo’s smile, though it faltered at the start, grew bigger and prouder. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Elio moved closer and pressed his lips on Leonardo's nose. "I'm so – I'm so, so happy."

Leonardo's eyes fluttered shut. "Elio," he whispered. "Thank you. Thank you for...for dropping everything and running. I know your life was – you had everything. And you left it all to come here. I want this, but…it was hard, feeling like if I reached out to you, it meant you had to drop everything else. And I was scared that you’d changed your mind, that you wouldn’t want me anymore. So the fact that you want it too, I...it just means so much to me."

“You’re the only thing I want from that life.”

The room was almost completely silent as they lay there, breathing softly. Leonardo looked so...peaceful when he closed his eyes. Elio had never noticed. Their lives used to be so chaotic.

“I like your new name.” Leonardo’s eyes were earnest this time when they opened again.

Elio smiled. “I like yours, too.”

“You’re my sun,” Leonardo whispered.

“And you are my brave, invincible lion.”

Leonardo gazed after him as he got up and wandered the room. He said he lived alone, so Elio went outside and looked around; the apartment was not much bigger than the one Leonardo had back at Rosehurst, but there was a bigger kitchen this time, and it looked used, as if Leonardo was cooking for himself. The bathroom was small, but enough for Elio to clean himself up and wash his face of the fatigue that came with flying eleven hours. There were some clothes hanging over a chair in the living room, and they smelled just like Leonardo, so Elio couldn't resist putting them on, smiling as he basked in the scent.

It was windy out on the balcony when Elio stepped on it. The bench had a few grey cushions on it, so Elio sat down with a sigh, his body twisted to look at the street that had been pictured on the postcard.

Leonardo stepped out a while later, fully clothed again, his footsteps hesitant against the tile of the balcony. He sat down next to Elio and wrapped his arms around Elio’s waist, his chin tucked into Elio’s shoulder to nuzzle Elio’s cheek until he turned around to kiss him.

And part of Elio had been so scared, he had been so terrified that he would land in Rome and Leonardo would be a completely different person, but now. Now he was here, and nothing had changed. Nothing. Leonardo hadn't changed one bit. He was still fun-loving, and caring, and gentle, and he still loved Elio the way Elio loved him.

And it was everything that Elio would ever ask for. Everything he ever needed.

"You are the love of my life," he whispered. He felt the small movement of Leonardo's cheek against his as he smiled. "I've never found a love like this. And I won't try to."

"You are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

They sat there for a while, letting the breeze card through their hair. The door shutters rattled under the wind, and the little potted plant in the corner of the balcony whispered little secrets to them. The street below was eerily quiet, and it seemed to call out to them.

"What do you usually do in the night?" he asked Leonardo. "Sleep?"

"I work the dinner shift at a restaurant sometimes and the closing shift at a bar other nights," Leonardo mumbled into Elio's ear. "I sleep during the day. At night...I go out. I don't do anything. I just walk the streets and think about you. Night time is – it’s my time with you. It’s our time."

Elio wished he could be like that one day. Working. Leading a normal life. He wished he could learn to be like Leonardo. Elio had always fended for himself, since he’d lost his parents, but – this time, he wanted it to be legitimate.

But that was why he was here – to learn from Leonardo. To learn with him. For as long as he would have him.

"It's a good thing you weren't out tonight then, isn't it?"

Leonardo chuckled. "Would you have waited? If I hadn't been home."

"I've waited twelve whole months. I would wait a lifetime."

The clock on the front dresser read four am when Elio glanced back at it. Leonardo caught him doing so, and kissed him on the cheek.

"What do you want to do now?" Elio asked.

"Hmm." Leonardo pressed his lips on Elio's ear this time. "Let's go for a walk."

"Leo. Is it...is it going to be different between us now that we don't do...the things we used to do?"

“No. Never. We’ll find other things to do,” Leonardo said softly. “It doesn't matter what we do. I know the night will always be magical if I spend it with you.”

Elio was still tired from the long journey he’d made over here, and he was already sore from the way Leonardo had so mercilessly pounded him into the bed, but there was nothing more he wanted to do than to walk down the empty streets of Rome with Leonardo. Nothing. Not even sleep.

So they hit the streets again, hand in hand, strolling down Via Principe Amedeo. Rome was different in the night to Rosehurst; it was even quieter and even darker, and the buildings were gentler and friendlier. Elio got to see the restaurant Leonardo worked at in the daytime, its old wooden door displaying the ‘closed’ sign in the window. They crossed empty junction after empty junction. Occasionally, a car passed them, its tyres rumbling against the asphalt. The cobblestones jabbed against Elio’s tired feet as Leonardo pulled him along, just like old times, his laughter littering the otherwise boring air.

And even though more than a year’s worth of nights had passed for Elio without him, that laughter was still young and free, and it still felt like home, and it still made Elio smile, and it still made him fall in love all over again.

Leonardo had been right – it was magical.

And once again, in the night, they were reborn; they were free, forever, as Leonardo and Elio.

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen #this wont go on ao3! unless u guys think it should?#i think what's there ends perfect this is tumblr limited edition ok #<3

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centuryofdean · 4 years

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Of Food and Comfort - Part 11

Author Disclaimer:: Marvel and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. Instead I claim the maybe not so great plot, writing and characteristics of the reader insert character. I am not a die hard Marvel fan, I haven’t read all the comics, but have watched the movies. I may get some things wrong, so please don’t hate me. I also have been incorporating Old Norse as terms of endearment.

Summary:: You worked for Tony Stark as a…mechanic of sorts. Anything around the Avengers compound that needed a technicians touch, you handled. With working and living there, you had grown to be friendly with the super heroes. Of course you had grown to have feelings for one of them. The muscled Thunder God to be exact.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+. Smut. NSFW

Pairing:: Thor x Reader

It was the middle of May when Thor finally had to be pulled away from you to go back to Asgard. Since the night he returned from the mission with the rest of the Avengers, things were better than great. The both of you were worse than teenagers in reality, constantly touching and attacking one another at a moment’s notice of privacy—sometimes even without the privacy.

Then one day you awoke in the middle of the night to Thor getting dressed.

Groggily, you turned on your side and grabbed for his back pants pocket, dragging him closer to the bed. “Where ya’ goin’,” you mumbled.

Thor sat on the edge of the bed next to you, using a hand to sweep the hair off your face before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I am called back to Asgard,” he murmured softly. “I will only be gone for a few days.”

This woke you up entirely, slightly panicked at the idea of him leaving you for Asgard. He was leaving, was he even going to wake you up before he was gone?

It seemed he sensed your panic because he laid his hands on your bare shoulders, smiling softly. “Do not worry, I was going to wake you before I left,” he pressed a quick kiss to your lips this time. Slowly, he pulled away but his eyes roamed lazily over your bare chest.

“Just be careful,” you laughed softly. He was being lecherous, lifting a hand to rub your shoulder and travel down towards your chest.

“I will schat. I will see you soon,” he said, kissing you softly again after lightly squeezing your breast. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Thor,” you replied before snuggling back into the blankets and let sleep reclaim you.

One Month After Thor’s Departure

A few days passed and Thor had not returned. Instead you slowly started to lose the ease of everyday life. Days blended into weeks achingly slow. Every morning you woke up, you wondered if he was okay and if that day was going to be the day he would return. Trying to distract yourself from the worry, you turned to one of the few things you knew besides technology.

Food.

Every day you slaved over the kitchen making a big breakfast, lunch and dinners for the entire team. In doing this, you were eating and snacking almost constantly. The kitchen was stocked with anything anyone could have imagined as well, thanks to you. If you weren’t cooking or eating, you were off to the store to get more things to cook and eat—or working on something technology related for Tony.

You were just grateful for the distraction in any form you could take it. Before you realized it, one day you looked in the mirror and noticed you seemed to have filled out more. Subconsciously you knew you had to have been gaining weight from the excessive eating and lack of exercising. Overall you weren’t bothered by the fact, just bothered that Thor never came back a few days like he had promised.

It wasn’t like Thor to make a promise and break it so easily. This leading you into a constant state of worry that was consuming you whole. The others tried to reassure you that he had been gone for long periods of time before. Something must have come up and he didn’t have time to come back and let you know it was going to be longer than a few days.

So you held hope that eventually he would return unharmed, and then you could finally breathe easy.

Two Months After Thor’s Departure

“Alright, Y/N, please stop cooking,” Clint sighed. He had stumbled upon you in the kitchen at eleven in the morning, covered in batter and a little out of it due to lack of quality sleep lately. It was hard to sleep, because every time you closed your eyes you dreamed of Thor. Either the both of you were together and happy, or he was covered in blood breathless.

All you wanted was something sweet, because honestly sweets sounded good to you lately. Maybe it had something to do with dopamine or whatever, but just the thought of French Toast had you drooling.

“Do you want some,” you asked with a yawn, flipping another slice of battered bread on the frying pan.

Clint just sighed. “I ate the waffles and fruit you made earlier,” he said slowly, “remember?”

“That was yesterday,” you said. “How many pieces do you want? There is enough bread for me to make enough for everyone. Do you think anyone else—”

“Honey,” he sighed again, cutting me off, “you’re not sleeping right. We ate the waffles this morning, you made them around eight. You haven’t even looked at me since I walked in the kitchen.”

What did looking at him have to do with anything? A little confused, you turned to appease him.

There Clint stood, struggling to hold a giant bundle of moving fur in his arms just a few feet from you in the kitchen. Taken by surprise, you tossed the spatula in your hands onto the kitchen counter, getting closer to what appeared to be a dog in Clint’s arms.

“We all talked about it, and we are okay with it,” he grunted trying to contain the animal.

“Okay with what,” you asked in awe. He crouched down and deposited the ball of fur onto the floor. The animal scrambled up and immediately started chasing its tail. It had to been at least forty pounds. The thing was already taller than your knees, but looked like it was a healthy weight, not over fed.

The black colored dog gazed up at you with dark blue piercing eyes.

Clint reached down to scratch it between the ears, gesturing for you to do the same. “We are okay with you having a dog! It was Tony’s idea really, he said you always asked him to get one. So, I went to the pound and picked up this guy,” he cooed affectionally at the animal.

You slowly lowered yourself to the floor, knees hitting the cold tile, letting your fingers pet at the soft fur on the dog’s head. It was so soft, it had to have been baby hair still. The pup barked softly, leaning forward to nip at your fingers and then lick at your face. A wave of puppy breath filtered in through your nose, making you cringe slightly but ultimately melt into a puddle.

Before you realized what was happening, you were crying softly, grabbing the large puppy and bringing it to your chest while you let the tears fall.

Ever since you started working for Tony Stark, all you did was pester him about letting you get a dog. Whenever the whole team left for missions, the base got pretty lonely. Even when everyone was home, sometimes the days were lonely because everyone was so busy doing their own things.

The fact that he is finally agreeing is what brought you to tears. Not because you are finally getting your wish of a pet companion, but that Tony saw how deeply you were hurting due to Thor’s absence. Tony had always been a good man at heart underneath his jerkish demeanor. This act of kindness from him also showed you how much he cared about you and your happiness.

French Toast completely forgotten, you laid down on the floor with the dog and played. You gently batted it back and forth on the floor, slowly it began to get annoyed and barked more and nipped at your hands and fingers. Eventually everyone converged in the kitchen to meet the newest addition to the compound.

Once Tony arrived to see, you jumped up and eloped him in a large hug, trying to hold in the tears. “Thank you so much,” you whimpered softly. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

“No worries kid,” he chuckled softly. “Just make sure you take care of the beast. I don’t want to smell dog crap in the building, alright?”

“Of course! I will be the perfect dog parent,” you swore.

Three Months After Thor’s Departure

It still hadn’t been easy. You had first expected to see Thor only a few days after he left. Now that three months had passed, you were trying to save your hope. Sleeping had gotten easier since Clint brought home your furry bundle of joy. At first you tried to prevent the dog from crawling into the bed with you, but ultimately caved when it whined softly at the end of the bed. When you would finally struggle to heft it up onto the bed with you, it was pure bliss of cuddles and love.

The name you picked out for him was one you forced yourself to practice daily. Mjölnir.

The puppy—who was not really the size of a puppy when he first arrived—seemed to almost double in size in the month he came home with Clint. You were convinced that if he stood on his hind legs, he was almost taller than you. None the less, Mjölnir was the perfect dog. He followed you around the base, didn’t whine or bark much and didn’t leave any sort of messes.

It didn’t happen overnight, but you soon realized that you had moved into Thor’s room. You had been sleeping in his bed since he left (the dog had been too), but you had slowly started to bring the things from your room into his. The couch and mini fridge from your room came, as did all of your clothes, toiletries and bedding. The room you used to stay in now looked like a new empty room for the next person.

Thor’s room had transformed into a mixture of both of his and yours. You continued to use his bedding, only because he had a king-sized bed whereas you had a queen. This was a good thing, because now that Mjölnir was much larger, the bed was just big enough for both of you to lay out comfortably.

The dresser vanity from your room made its way into Thor’s. It was big enough to hold the majority if your clothes—and Thor’s—and you had taken to covering the edges of the mirror with pictures that you had taken of you and Thor. The pictures ranged from before you two were dating up until the day he left. A few pictures of Mjölnir even made it onto the mural.

You wanted to say things had gotten easier over the month you had Mjölnir, but it would be a lie. Nothing had gotten easier. If anything, it was slowly getting harder because with each day that passed you continued to worry that the worst had happened. The dog helped make you content at least, keeping from turning to food for comfort.

Steve tried to help by involving you with as much as possible with anything he could. Once you even ended up in a meeting reviewing the next mission. That had never happened before, so it was mildly interesting. At most all you did was listen. Natasha asked your opinion on how you think they should handle the situation, go in guns blazing or under the radar.

If he wasn’t trying to get you to help with projects or missions, Steve was always offering to take you and Mjölnir to Central Park to get fresh air. After he ran around the park in its entirety—multiple times—he would come find you and the dog to walk around and enjoy the hot days of July in New York.

Four Months After Thor’s Departure

Some days you only got out of bed to take Mjölnir out. Food always seemed to appear at your door when you started to feel hungry. Sometimes when Steve asked you to help with something or offered to hangout you declined softly and stowed away into Thor’s room with Netflix and your dog for company. Some days you turned to wine early in the morning and didn’t stop until you went to sleep, waking up with horrible hangovers the next day.

Other days you tried to pretend nothing was wrong and Thor was going to show up any second to sweep you up off of your feet.

One day in particular you decided to take Mjölnir to Central Park for a nice long walk. The July sweltering heat dimmed down to a nice warm August day. You had invited Steve, but he got pulled away to work on something for the team. Everyone seemed to be busy and couldn’t come with you to the park, so it was just you and the dog.

Trying not to let it get you down, you loaded up in the Jeep with Mjölnir and headed into the city.

The sun had already dropped down significantly, but the sky was still bright and blue for six in the afternoon. You had opted to go later in the afternoon because even though midday wasn’t horrible to be in heat wise, Mjölnir’s thick black fur made it hard for him to stay cool.

The dog had already grown even bigger since you had gotten him. On his hind legs he had surpassed you by a head. On all fours? Well his head came to a rest at your chest. You wondered what kind of mutt he was, with his stature it seemed like he was a Great Dane, but he looked more like…well a wolf.

Whenever you got stopped in the park with him—people would ask if they could pet him or simply gawk and ask what breed he was—you insisted he was a Malamute and Great Dane mix. It was the only thing that would make sense to you, but overall stopped caring.

He was a good dog, overly friendly to anyone and everyone you both crossed paths with. Sometimes when someone walked up behind you, he growled softly. Whenever someone knocked on your—Thor’s—bedroom door he barked until you touched his fur softly. This led you to believe he was affectionate and protective.

Leash in hand, you took a deep breath and latched Mjölnir up to start your walk. You usually walked through half of the park when you went, but tonight you might just do a quarter because you didn’t like to be in the park too late. You never stayed long enough for it to get dark, because that is when it was most dangerous. Sometimes you do get lost though, and it takes a little bit longer for you to find the Jeep to get back home.

There weren’t too many people out and about this time, but you liked that. It was peaceful to just walk and not have to force a smile at those who would wave or want to stop you and ask about Mjölnir.

About an hour passed before you decided it was time to turn around and head back to the Jeep, leaving enough time to find your way back if you were lost.

Suddenly a stray cat darted out across the walkway and into the nearby trees, taking off into the distance. Even as it happened before your eyes, you were at a loss when Mjölnir jerked so suddenly he ripped himself out of your grasp and after the cat.

Frustrated, you took off after him, swerving in and out of trees and calling out his name. In a matter of moments, he became a dot in the distance.

Heart beating frantically, you started to call out his name, hoping he would turn around and come back to you. All thoughts of Thor had suddenly left your mind, a new worry that you had lost your new bundle of joy. What if someone thought he was a wild wolf? What if someone thought he was so perfect and wanted to take him away for themselves and not try to find his owner? What if animal control got called and he was gunned down for looking so big and menacing?

“Mjölnir! Mjölnir come here! I need you to come back Mjölnir,” you called out scared, a quiver starting to take your throat.”

Slowly the sky started to darken, clouds growing grey and thickening, small droplets of rain filled the air.

“Mjölnir!”

A deep rumble happened around you, you felt it in your chest like the thunder was right next to you. It messed with the beating of your heart, causing it to speed up and then slow, only to repeat in a weird manner.

“Mjölnir,” you whimpered softly, feeling the hot heat of tears start to hint at your eyes. What would you do if you truly lost him? Like you lost Thor.

A sob left you, forcing you to take a gasping breath as you felt your hair become soaking wet by the increasing rain. Even with your hair soaked, a weird tingle went up your spine and onto your head, almost as if your hair were trying to stand on end from static.

A deep hard vibration started, almost as if it were the heat of someone staring at you, but from above?

Looking up into the sky, you could see something moving fast—towards you.

Your arm was heavy, but the sudden heat in it caused you to gasp as it rose up to attempt to cover your face. A gust of wind hit you before heavy metal collided with your palm. On reflex your fingers curled around it and your muscles constricted to hold it in place and not allow whatever it was to knock you over or hit you in the face.

With a heaving breath you cracked open your watery eyes, only to cry out at the sight that met you.

Clutched in your hands was Mjölnir—Thor’s hammer. It was just as you remembered, slightly warm to touch and sleek with perfection of Asgardian carvings.

A small ray of hope sprouted in your chest, if the hammer was here—did that mean Thor was here? Your head quickly swiveled around the rainy terrain to see if you could make out a mop of blonde hair.

Instead you were met with a familiar face that was most unwelcome.

Just a few yards away, Liam was leaning against a tree, watching you with a furrowed brow.

It had been well over seven months since you had seen him last. Since he had hit you—twice. Just seeing him set a fear in your chest you weren’t ready to deal with. Ever since the night he attacked you, you thought you were okay. It bothered you for a few days, maybe a week, but you thought that was it.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Shaking slightly, you took a few steps back, hand taking a better grip on the hammer you now held. “Are you following me,” you asked, voice coming out calmer than you felt.

At the sound of your voice, Liam pushed off of the tree and into the now pouring rain, approaching you. With every step that you took backwards, Liam took two forwards.

This cannot be happening. Why in the Hell would this be happening? How come everything seemed to always go to shit when Thor was gone? Was Thor gone though? If the hammer was on Earth, that must mean he was on Earth, right?

Unless—unless you calling for the hammer and it coming to you easily meant that he wasn’t around it—that he was gone.

“I was waiting for your boyfriend to show up,” he scoffed, “but looks like the idiot isn’t going to come, is he?”

“Thor doesn’t come everywhere with me,” you spoke back just as annoyed. “I am my own person, not his child to look after.”

The hateful smile Liam returned escalated your fear again. When he was only ten feet away, you finally lifted the hammer towards him in threat.

“Come any closer and I will fry your ass,” you snarled out, slowly becoming furious instead of afraid.

“You’re packing a taser? You won’t use it,” he laughed.

He must not pay attention to anything but himself, especially if he didn’t realize what Thor was the God of, or what the hammer could do. Was the power just through the hammer, or was the power through Thor?

Did you just threaten to electrify Liam, not knowing if you could actually do it?

Where was the dog?

“Mjölnir,” you called out as loud as you could, “come on boy! Time to go home and get treats!”

During the silent stare off between Liam and you, he had slowly inched his way closer to where you stood defensively.

“What do you want Liam,” you asked. “I thought I made it clear we were done.”

When he was only a handful of feet away, he relaxed into a stance that indicated he wasn’t going to come any closer. “I just want to know why you cheated on me,” he asked.

A little dumbfounded, the hammer drooped down to your side lazily. Cheated on him? He couldn’t be serious.

“Liam,” you said softly. “I didn’t cheat on you with Thor. Nothing ever happened between us while I was seeing you. Nothing happened between us until a few weeks after you assaulted me.” The last few words came out as a hiss.

“There’s no point in lying about it Y/N,” he snarled. “Just tell me why and for how long. You think I assaulted you? I was the one assaulted by fucking Capitan America and his bird brained friend.”

The grip you had on the hammer renewed at his words. Anger was fueling him almost as easily as it was fueling you, but it seemed to be building quicker in him. The next words you were about to utter were lost as a loud snarling bark came from just behind you. Before you could turn to look, Mjölnir bound out to stand just in front of you, his hind legs up while his front legs and head were lowered as he bared his teeth.

Relief filled your core to see him return safely. “I can go blue in the face trying to tell you the truth Liam,” you said, “but it doesn’t matter. You are only going to believe what you want to believe, and sadly what you believe is not the truth.”

You watched as he took another step forward quickly, but what happened next you felt as if you had no control.

The hammer in your hand rose—on its own, you weren’t sure—and a flash of piercing bright light illuminated the park around you. Heat filled you hard and fast, brimming on the side of too hot, a little too painful. A racing tingle started from your hand holding the hammer and down through every nerve in your body to your feet.

Then a nice hum vibrated through your body, a constant one.

Liam’s eyes grew wide and panicked, darting across your face and body before he turned and ran.

Five Months After Thor’s Departure

The night you saw Liam in the park felt so long ago, although it were only about a month. It was also a garbled mess in your mind. You could remember vividly everything that happened up until he turned tail and ran for it. What was the garbled mess was what happened after.

You vaguely remembered gathering both Mjölnirs and trying to find the Jeep. The drive home was what you didn’t remember, or getting into Thor’s room.

Once you crossed your reflection in the mirror, everything came back to a startling focus for you. You remembered your H/C hair was braided elaborately from your crown to your back. The simple sweats and sweater you were wearing had disappeared somewhere. Instead you were dressed in a familiar simple shirt and trousers that you had wore one day in Asgard. Even your tennis shoes had changed to boots.

Even your eyes had changed to a startling ice blue.

The effect had only lasted until you went to sleep. Before you went to bed that night you undid some of the larger braids and changed into one of Thor’s shirts. In the morning when you were getting up to take Mjölnir out, you saw your eyes had changed back to normal.

The only conclusion you could reach is that Mjölnir the hammer had done this when Liam took a threatening step towards you.

A month later you hadn’t touched the hammer again. Instead you leaned it up against the vanity and looked at it from time to time, but never touched it. Your thoughts tried not to trail down the dark path of wondering what it meant to have the hammer there and not Thor.

It had been five months, he hadn’t returned but his hammer had. Was Thor lost to you forever?

A deep whine from Mjölnir woke you. His wet cold nose was pressed against your cheek and while he licked softly and whined a little louder. “Ugh,” you groaned, pushing him away. “I’m up. Let Momma get dressed and I’ll take you out.”

At those words the large dog hopped off the bed and yipped in excitement. As you started to pull on a pair of leggings underneath your Thor shirt, you gazed at Mjölnir and tried to calculate how big he was now. Thankfully his height stopped with his head at your chest, but he seemed to be filling out more now. He easily was a hundred and twenty pounds.

Groggily, you exited the bedroom was watched as he slipped out in front of you. A woman was walking towards you, but your eyes were so squinted at the bright lights of the hallway you couldn’t make out who it was. “Mjölnir,” you growled softly, “get your ass back here. Mom goes first, you know better.”

The dog could sense the reprimand in the tone of your voice and stopped walking to wait for you. Throughout all the dog books you read, you tried to train him into believing you were the Alpha of your little family, and that meant that you led and he followed. Lately new people were popping up on the base and you didn’t want anyone to be scared of him if he was out wandering about.

The woman only paused a moment and jumped to the side and out of the way when you both passed.

The kitchen was even brighter than the hallway, so you actually covered your eyes and yawned when you stumbled into it. Creaking an eye open, you could see Steve at the counter stirring a cup.

“Mornin’,” you grumbled, trying to peak over his shoulder. Usually in the mornings he makes you a cup of tea. Instead you saw black coffee in the mug.

“Morning,” he said, sounding a little amused. “Yours is on the counter sweetheart.”

Smiling softly in thanks, you turned to the counter and picked up the steaming cup of tea. It smelled great when it reached your nose and was just cooled off enough to take a small sip from. The peaceful bliss was broken when Mjölnir growled a little too aggressively. Your eyes popped open in alert, concerned as to why he was growling in the first place.

Breath left you just as your cup of tea did. It slipped from your fingers and onto the floor, shattering and spraying hot tea all over. The heat from the hot liquid was dimmed by your leggings, but you don’t think you could have felt it anyway. Could you have felt anything?

There, sitting just at the end of the island was Thor.

Previous Chapter << Part 10: Chilli

Last Chapter >> Part 12: Waffles

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@thorfanficwriter @lancsnerd @jennie22feona @captainamericasbeard @ruthoakenshield @jumpingmanatee @alyssatjuhhh @dream-alittlebiggerdarling

#Thor Odinson #thor fanfiction #thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #thor fanfic #of food and comfort #thor x y/n

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darnloveablecharacters · 4 years

Text

Universal, Part Six: Peace

Series Summary: Simply a multi-part, self indulgent reader insert with John Wick universe kinda plumbed in. Fair warning…. SLOWWW BURN. Ignore canon and timing and crap, that’s not important…. Gifs and recognizable characters are not mine, but the story and all of the mistakes are!

The Universal - Masterlist

Chapter Notes: So.... I know I posted the previous chapter like just a few hours ago, but as I kept adding on to this I got more and more excited. If you’re cool with little context, this could be the one-shot I had kinda imagined. (not really, this was actually no where near where I thought this fic was going but I’m going to say it’s my personal favorite lol)

Without further ado: Here it is! The conclusion to the Universal. Thank you all for your amazing support and love <3

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, NSFW (not quite smut but there is little left to the imagination.)

Ben wasn’t supposed to ever see Y/N again. He didn’t have the right. Nevertheless, she was there, watching him warily when he had entered the Mos Eisley markets. His moment of joy at seeing her immediately crashed into a sea of despair as his thoughts consumed him and he turned away from her. She deserves more than I can ever give her. He thought numbly as he moved to leave the market. He thought he could hear her calling to him, but he knew it was simply a trick of the dwindling hope in his heart.

He didn’t stop until he felt a strong grip pull him toward a shadowy alley, just outside of the space port. “What are you doing, Kenobi?” She said, clearly flustered.

He didn’t answer her, he just watched and waited. He waited for her to leave, as she should. They all left him.

She narrowed her eyes at him but kept a firm grip on his arm. “Obi Wan? Are you with me?”

I should have been, I should never have left you. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided He thought bitterly. His inner monologue was all that had kept him company since he arrived on Tatooine. He wasn’t even sure he could speak anymore.

She slapped him.

“Stop that.” She scolded, glaring at him.

“What was that for?” He croaked in surprise, raising his hand to rub his jaw.

“There’s that lovely voice.” She said with a smirk before falling serious again. “Your mind is screaming. Everything that you’re beating yourself up over, it’s not worth torturing yourself like this.”

He scoffed at her and she rolled her eyes. “You don’t know, so how could you know what I deserve.” Ben countered.

She raised her eyebrow and tapped a finger against her temple.

Oh.

Their connection. It was still there, a feathery brush against his mind that had convinced him to keep going in his moments of deepest agony. It had faded somewhat when they parted, but it was still strong. He gazed at her with glassy eyes as he realized that he had nearly forgotten.

She sighed and grabbed his arm again, pulling him toward a hangar. “We’re leaving.”

“I can’t leave, Y/L/N.” He protested weakly.

“Yes, you can, and you will.” She said forcefully.

He heaved a heavy sigh but allowed her to pull him into the hanger toward a ship he didn’t recognize. “You have a new ship?” He said admiringly.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up at that. “You really thought that after all this time I wouldn’t? I couldn’t exactly fly my old one anymore.” Ben chuckled despite himself. “Oh, I’m even graced with a polite laugh. How kind of you Kenobi.” She said with a mocking bow. “Now, are you going to come in on your own free will or will I have to continue dragging you?” She said gesturing toward the open door.

Ben shook his head, amused. “I’m coming, but I really will have to return.”

She dismissed him with a wave. “Fine, fine. I suppose that means we will have to get moving so you have more time to enjoy yourself!”

He rolled his eyes, but followed her into the ship and buckled in. She took off quickly and entered the coordinates without another word.

“Where are we going?” He asked when she turned the screen away from him.

She finished tapping on the panel and the ship moved into hyperspace before she finally turned to him, grinning. “The only place where two people with unfortunate bounties on their heads can relax.”

They arrived at The Universal not long after and missed the glum exchange of gold coins under the table as Y/N requested a single room. Winston had naturally won the bet, much to Charon and John’s chagrin. They were delighted, of course. Not only had a regular patron at The Universal found happiness, but two natural enemies overcame their differences and found peace together.

The door to their room closed and Ben took a deep breath as he watched Y/N walk around flicking on lamps. He closed his eyes contentedly, feeling her energy. The longer he was by her side, the more open the connection became and the distance brought from time apart was already nearly non-existent.

He smiled as he felt her approach. She was calm, but there was an undercurrent of nervous energy laced with it.

He opened his eyes as she gently pushed his robe off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. “What would you like to do now?” She asked breathily, sliding her hands down his shoulders and resting them on his chest.

Ben wrapped his arms around her waist but made no other move as he suddenly warred with himself. He wanted this, he wanted her but had spent his entire life trying to follow the code to the best of his ability. He knew that if he allowed himself this moment, there would be no coming back from it. He looked deeply into Y/N eyes and felt her patience and compassion. He knew that if he stepped away, she would understand.

It struck him then. The Order had been destroyed, all that was left was the will of the Force. As if to confirm his train of thought, their connection suddenly surged brightly.

“Y/N.” Ben groaned finally pulling her into a passionate kiss. She let out a surprised hum against him, but she quickly was consumed by her own desire and reciprocated gladly. She grabbed fistfuls of his tunic and began to pull him toward the bed as Ben deepened the kiss. Trails of clothing were quickly left behind as they moved and Ben pushed her unceremoniously onto the bed. Y/N gasped lustfully when he used the Force to hold her in place as he allowed his most carnal instincts take over. His eyes raked over her naked body with appreciation and he crawled over her like a hungry predator over his prey. “Beautiful.” He said huskily as he traced his fingers on her soft skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps from the caress. She was breathless as she watched him through lidded eyes, trembling with anticipation. He smirked and leaned forward, placing a kiss to her lips that was so tender she whimpered with need. “Now, what would you like me to do?” He whispered, trailing light kisses down her jaw.

The Jedi was gone.

All that remained was the man and woman moaning in pleasure as they finally let go and gave themselves fully to each other.

The sound of her crying out his name danced in his mind as he lay with her in his arms, rubbing her back softly.

“Do you really have to return to Tatooine?” Y/N murmured, tracing her fingers lightly across his chest.

Ben let out a sad sigh and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before answering. “Not immediately, but yes. I made a promise.”

“Foolish Jedi.” She said with a scoff.

Ben smirked. “Who is the bigger fool?”

Y/N smiled and shifted to place a gentle kiss to his cheek. “That’s my line.” She said with a small giggle before turning serious again. “I’ll come with you.”

Ben’s arms tightened around her as yet, another war of emotion began inside him. He felt pure joy at her offer, but guilt at what it could cost her. He would not let her lose her freedom to him, not again. “No.” He finally said sitting up and pulling her with him. She watched him with a carefully blank expression, but he could feel her confusion and pain at the rejection. He gripped her hands tightly. “My life is one of exile Y/N.” He explained quickly, pleading for her to understand. “I could never ask that of you. Your own freedom is more important than that.”

Ben felt his heart constrict as she pulled out of his grip, but she framed his face with her hands to ensure he would keep eye contact. “What greater freedom could there be than to be able to spend the rest of my life with the person I love?” She asked him with conviction.

Ben sucked in a breath as he slowly registered what she had just said. “The… rest of your life?” He asked in wonder.

Y/N tilted her head to the side with a smirk. “That’s what you’re choosing to focus on right now?”

“Yes.” He said breathlessly.

She shook her head, amused, before looking him directly. “I pledge myself to you, Obi Wan Kenobi. I love you and am yours if you will have me.”

Ben’s breath hitched as felt her feelings confirm her words.

Maker. He thought as tears of joy filled his eyes. He cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb gently on her skin. It was a few moments before he could finally speak with a steady voice. “I pledge myself to you Y/N Y/L/N. I love…”

He was interrupted when Y/N’s crashed against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. He closed his eyes, smiling, as he happily returned the kiss. They broke apart breathlessly and Y/N flashed him a sheepish grin. “I’m actually really sorry for interrupting that. I just… couldn’t stop myself.”

Ben pushed her back down onto the bed and rolled on top of her, placing a chaste kiss to her lips. “I do not think I will ever complain about being interrupted by you in a such a way; however, can you contain yourself for a moment so I can finish? I have wanted to tell you this for a long time.”

“How long?” Y/N questioned gazing at him through lidded eyes.

Ben glared at her and she muttered an embarrassed apology. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear gently and allowed everything he felt for her to surround them. “I love you, Y/N. I am, and always will be, yours.” He said softly.

She smiled up at him with tears shining in her eyes and raised her hand to trace her fingers through his beard. A sudden thought crossed her mind and she furrowed her eyebrows. “Do I have to call you Ben?” She asked uncertainly.

His eyes widened, and he collapsed on top of her shaking with laughter. She wrapped her arms around him and pecked his cheek, succumbing to her own fit of giggles.

They made love again, this time with less desperation. It was slow, passionate, and full of every emotion they had not been allowed to share until now. As he cried out her name with his release, he knew that they were truly one. They were connected in a way that Obi Wan hadn’t thought would be possible in his life as a Jedi.

He held her tightly as she fell asleep against him, finally at peace. He placed a gentle kiss to her head and, for the first time in longer than he could remember, he genuinely believed he could be happy.

The End

Authors Notes: Okay take it or leave it, you can assume they follow the path of canon and Vader kills Obi Wan later and Y/N dies before or after or…. whatever…. OR! You can choose to believe Obi Wan and Y/N lived a happily ever after, had like hundreds of children and died at a ridiculously old age (like older than Yoda, old). I’m personally going with the latter. 😊 Eff canon and all the heartbreak. (I actually really love Star Wars canon but damn…. So much sad)

Thank you for reading! Much love <3 <3

Oh yeah, almost forgot…. THE VOICE. Now that the story is finished, I can tell you that the voice I heard for the reader while writing this is Trilla from Jedi: Fallen Order… voiced by the gorgeous Elizabeth Grullon… yup. If you don’t know her, GOOGLE HER or play the dang game. SO worth it! Her and her voice are so sexy and if I had a choice for someone to play me in the overly boring movie that is my life, it would be her. Maybe with Morgan Freeman as a narrator but I digress… 😊 (I literally look absolutely nothing like that beautiful human being but that’s why we’re here… to dream)

#obi wan x reader #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi #Obi wan x dark jedi!reader #obi wan

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undercoverwizardfanfiction · 4 years

Text

ROTTMNT FANTASY AU

Mud is Thicker the Blood (1)

Sick Day

Summary:Compilation of Donnie growing up being raised by his adopted family the Mud Dogs

He had been feeling fine that morning, but thankfully he has a family to take care of him

Gift for: @void-inked-pen birthday

Characters: Donnie, Loathsome Leonard, Malicious Mickey, Dastardly Danny, April O’Neil, Myrah

Pairings: You’re in luck! all the pairings for this fic are just past this door *gestures to wall that has a badly painted door under it and the laundry basket above it that’s suppose to be some sort of trap*

yes this is the same story twice. but this one shows up in the tags so it stays

“What is this supposed to be?”

“Are they supposed to be…” Mickey pokes it with his flipper, “rocks?”

“How about we spare my kid this time? He’ll never hit his height goals if he eats this.”

“Dad, Dad, I'm fine I just didn’t sleep well. I had a bad dream again.”

“Why didn’t you come get me? You could have slept in my bed.”

“You got home late last night, I didn’t want to wake you,” Don says, still trying to twist his head away from Len’s hand.

“Is it still ok to go tutor April today? Please? I’ve been cooped up here all winter.”

“Yeah but honestly it could have been the breakfast,” Mickey says, picking up a disc, “I even felt sick when I saw it.”

Len and Mickey both raise their hands with a grin.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

“Donnie?”

“Yeah, your name, like five times.” His oldest friend peers at him from over her glasses. “Are you sure you’re feeling ok?”

“If you ever convince your Dad to let you go to school, my Alchemy teacher would cry tears of joy. Again.” She pauses “They cry a lot.”

April was already out of her seat. “Coming Mom!” she calls hurrying for the door. “Don’t do my homework Dee!” she calls behind him.

Of course before he could even launch his venture his Dad had found out and outright forbade it.

It’s the last thing he feels before he blacks out

(#)#(#)

Danny’s ‘calm bad boy’ dis option went out the window (which was also broken because of a wayward flying crepelle). “Who the hell raised you to be a snitch?!” the rat hisses.

“You did!! I learned it from watching you!”

The rat opens his mouth to argue before thinking. “Ok fine but I always taught you to get paid first.”

“I need you to come get Doniel, he has a fever and passed out while tutoring April.”

Len felt as though a cold chill had passed through his body, it was the only reason he hesitated. “Y-yeah just give me a sec.” He ducks back into the house, where Danny is already waiting.

”Len what’s-“

“Ah-shouldn’t we put in him some ice?”

“No, the last time we tried that he almost went into shock before I stepped in. He’s a turtle, he can’t handle it.”

“Is he ok?”

“Hey baby boy,” Len sits up on the edge of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone tried to kill me with one of Uncle Danny’s devil pancakes.” He barely has enough wind to finish his sentence before he has to gasp for air. “Will you sit with me please?”

“I know you didn’t, you’re not a good liar remember?” Len lowers his cheek onto his scalp. “You get that from your Uncle Mickey.”

“And you?”

“Nah, I’m a great liar,” he smirks down at Donnie, “I’m not going to teach you how to lie though until you turn eighteen,” he pauses, “Hundred.”

#rottmnt fantasy au #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #donnie #fantasy au #loathsome leonard #malicious mickey #dastardly danny #tmnt #teenage mutant ninaj turtles

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