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roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

Text

tolerate it

part 2/2 of cardigan!

so, this is the follow up to my first ever one shot (guess not anymore LMAO) up here! i sincerely hope that you guys like this, because it was like pulling teeth for this one. every now and again i’d find a golden one and smack it in there and hope that one decent line made up for all the others.

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

this was the hardest thing ive ever had to write (simply because there was so much emotion in it and it was hard to reel myself back in just to cast out again) and i had to write a paper on nathaniel hawthorne.

warnings: pretty angsty for me, bittersweet, um- why do i write angst, DRAMATICS hahaha

word count: 4.5k!

would like to remind you that i do not own taylor swift songs! this one borrows a little from tolerate it, the best song on evermore imho (tied with coney island).

You knew that opening the door was going to be a hard part, but what you didn’t prepare for was actually listening to her. You could have stared at her for eternity in silence, just harping on everything good and bad that ever happened between the two of you. You could imagine a thousand different scenarios where the two of you were happy and none of this had occurred, but that wasn’t the case. She didn’t come to you to stare and leave.

“Thank you,” Natasha said, her voice throaty as she took a cautious first step into your space. Your space. It sounded weird, and you knew that it felt weird to her. You two had shared everything for the longest, and now you had your own place to live in. “Thank you for letting me in.”

“You came to talk,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, and she didn’t miss the obvious tell of your body language. “I won’t make you waste your time. Say your piece, and then...” you trailed off, both of you knowing full well where you were going with it.

“Can I just start with the fact that I’m so sorry,” she blurted, and you have her an unamused look as you sat on your couch, and she sat on the edge of it. “And that I don’t know why that happened. I don’t expect for you to ever forgive me, and I don’t forgive myself. I won’t ever forgive myself for hurting you so badly, and having such a lapse in judgement. I’m sorry.”

“What was it that was different?” You asked, the question that had been haunting you for a while now finally escaping your lips. When she gave you a confused look, you stared back at her. “What was so different about whatever happened on the mission?”

You didn’t ask what you did wrong, because you didn’t do anything wrong. It took you weeks to know that, weeks to come to the conclusion, but you knew. It wasn’t anything that you lacked, it was something that Natasha did. Whether it was loyalty, restraint, a moral compass, or even something else, you didn’t think that it was you.

“There was nothing different.”

You were trying to hold it together, but you knew that you were seconds from falling apart right in front of the person who had destroyed you. “You don’t have to lie.”

She made a face. “There wasn’t. There was nothing about her that was better than you, I swear.”

But there was nothing different. There was nothing different in the way that you held her to the way that Abigail did, then. There must have been nothing different in the way that you kissed her in the morning. Nothing special about how you would dance with her on the third of the month simply because you liked the number three. There was nothing special about the way you held her hand and rubbed her back and sometimes sang her to sleep when she needed it. And there was certainly nothing different or special about the way that you let her put her head on your chest, just so that she could hear your heart beating.

Maybe what you did was different or special to you and not to her. And maybe it was time for you to finally realize it, whether it hurt or not.

Your emotions were threatening to come through, and you couldn’t have that happen. “I thought you came to talk. Talking requires truth.”

“I did,” she rushed, and then she sighed and wiped her palms on her thighs. You knew what that was. Of course you knew what she was. That was her being nervous. “I just wanted you to know that I love you, I love you so much, no matter what you choose. I never meant for any of it to happen, and I hate myself for making you feel that way.”

“You knew what happened with the others,” you said, and you knew that she knew that you were talking about the men who used to cheat on you without thinking twice. You saw her wince. “You knew how I felt about dishonesty. You knew how long it took me to be fully trusting of you, and you ruined it for two months of fun?”

“I know I did.”

“Do you know that, Natasha?” You asked, your voice starting to raise a bit. “I trusted you, and then I gave you everything I had. There wasn’t a piece of me that wasn’t for you, don’t you get that? I painted a portrait of us with the best colors I had and you opened the door on me doing the finishing touches and threw black paint over it.”

She was surprised that you were actually allowing yourself to be angry, and that made you even more upset. You were allowed to be pissed. “I’m sorry,” she breathed out, a thin layer of tears in her eyes.

“I did- I had everything lying out on the table for you emotionally. It was wrapped so pretty for you when I helped you through your own stuff, and it waited until you were ready. There wasn’t a thing you didn’t know, not a secret kept from you. And I still can’t believe that you returned me being in love with you, with that.”

“It didn’t mean anything to me. None of it meant anything to me at all, I swear.”

“It meant something to Abigail,” you said, and you saw her flinch. “It meant something to the girl that told you that she loved you. And if I’m not mistaken, you told her the same. So did it really not mean something, or are you an even larger liar than I thought?”

“It didn’t mean anything.” For a spy, she was quite easy to read. Or maybe you just spent so much time knowing her that it was impossible to not know her inside and out. You knew her every movement that she made when she lied, and you knew what she looked like when she was telling the truth. This, this wasn’t it.

And it destroyed you.

“Don’t you understand how that feels? It feels like being cut a thousand times by the fancy blade that you made yourself. It feels like being bitten by your own dog. It feels like being nearly drowned in the oceans that you’ve swam in for forever. We were so close! We were so close that I was sure that we were predestined or some of that cheesy shit, Natasha. I could have sworn that we were meant for each other, but now I know that we were, because the betrayal that you did cut me down into a million pieces. That was something that neither of the others were able to do. That’s something that only you could do, and I trusted you not to do it. I never thought you could do it. I thought that you loved me far too much to pull the shit that you did.

“Maybe I was foolish enough to make the knife right in front of you, but I trusted you to know it was there and not use it against me. And you still stabbed me with it.” Your voice cracked and you could feel warm tears falling into your hand, but you didn’t care. You had to keep going. “How could you see me give and give and give to you, for you, and then tolerate it and go see someone else?”

She was breathing heavily after your rant, like she had spoken the words instead. A singular tear came down her face, and you thanked whoever was sitting above and watching for the crack in her mask. You were begging to see her half as emotional as you, half as hurt by her own actions.

You knew that it was different when you saw her wipe her tear. She never wiped her tears around you. You were the only one who got to see them, but you supposed not even you were allowed to see it anymore.

“I can’t even begin-” her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I regret what happened.”

“How do you regret-” you pursed your lips and shook your head, closing your eyes for a second as your heart clenched. “How do you regret falling in love with someone?”

“I don’t love her-”

“Do you love me?” You asked.

“More than I love anything else in the entire world.”

“You loved her more if you risked me losing me, Natasha.” You said, and her brows shot up at your conclusion. “You know what would happen if you did that to me and I found out. You knew you would lose me, and you did it anyway. So you two must have had something special. Congrats.”

“No, you’re-”

The temper that you tried to keep in check was bubbling over again, and you realized that there was no checking yourself. “Do you know how long I waited for you and never cheated? Never had sex with anyone else, never went on a date with anyone else? For just as long as you were supposed to! And I managed! So what’s wrong with you?”

“Y/N, I think we should calm down a little. Let’s talk it out for a second.”

“I’ve been talking it out. All by myself, actually, because you’re too afraid to do a damn thing and admit that you fucked up for two months straight.” You closed your eyes again as you felt the hurt come back up. “How do I know it was just that time? How do I know that?”

There was a silence that spoke volumes. “You don’t.”

“And what if we got back together, after all of this?” It was hypothetical, but seeing the hope perk up in her sparked something that you hadn’t felt towards her in forever. Or, you had, it was just smothered by the heat of your fury. “How would I know that you aren’t off pulling the same thing you did earlier?”

“You’d have to trust me.”

“Well, I can’t do that. I literally can’t,” you cried out, putting your head in your hands and shaking you head. It was quiet except for the sounds of your cries, and it was ominous. There was never a quiet moment between you and Natasha, but you were dying out, fizzling away. You already had your Big Bang, now you were creating black holes that would forever remain on opposite sides of the universe. And you both knew it.

“You- you humiliated me,” you shook your head from left to right again, face still hidden. “You had an affair with a younger girl, you did it in front of the people I shared a living space with. You did it shamelessly in front of the people I cooked meals for every day, the people who’s fucking uniforms I ironed! They were my friends too, Natasha, and you humiliated me. You made them keep your dirty secret, did you apologize to them?”

“I haven’t spoken to them much.”

“I had to figure out from Pepper in front of the wedding dress store,” you continued, your throat tightening. “I was there getting the dress that I was going to walk down the aisle in. Everything was perfect, and then you did something that shattered what I thought couldn’t be broken.” You had thought that you and Natasha were rock solid, the hardest stone. You two were diamonds that sparkled and prevailed together, until you learned that you were truly just glass.

She leaned forward, giving you a look that you knew meant honesty. But it was far too late for that, and it wasn’t going to do Natasha much good now. “I wish every second of the day that I didn’t do it, Y/N. Every second of every day.”

Your lips turned into a scowl. “Wishing doesn’t do anything for us. We’re not little kids and we’re not princesses.”

That word, wishing, must have been the one to do her in, because she was sobbing right into her own sleeve, an arm covering her eyes from your sight. Your tears were subsiding, and you watched her with thinly pressed lips. Watching her cry was never pleasant.

“I’m so, so sorry. I can’t- I can’t imagine how you must feel, but I’m so sorry. I don’t know why- I can only apologize to you and beg that you’ll welcome me back to you, where I’m supposed to be.” Your eye twitched as you listened, and told yourself to keep your strength up. “I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, baby, but I know now. I know who I’m meant to be with, and it wasn't her. It’s you, it always has been.”

You knew that. You had always known that. It was a fact, something that had always rang as true as the beating of your own heart. You knew that it was written in the stars for you by some gracious god who decided to reveal what could have been your present and future to you, but you guess the other half of the tale never saw it herself. She knew now, sure. But she learned a little too late for your taste.

“Please, you have to know. You have to know that I didn’t- that I would never do it again.”

How could you tell someone that their apology wasn’t enough? How could you reject someone when they were at their lowest point? How were you going to find the strength in yourself to turn down the woman that you still very much loved? The one that you thought that you lost to another was right in front of you, begging for a second chance, but was it right for you to give it to her?

But how could she see you at your most vulnerable every day and know that you loved and cared for her with your whole heart and still do what she did? How was she okay with ruining you after all that you had been through? How did she not feel bad for two months about betraying the one person who she knew would be forever in her corner?

Whatever her method was to do things that hurt the people she supposedly loved, she found a way. And so would you.

“Have you said what you needed to?” You asked, your tone slow and deliberate as you fought for your tears not to ruin your words. Just as slowly, she nodded. “Then, please leave.”

A noise left her throat. “Please, wait. Wait.”

“There’s nothing left to say, Nat. We said it all.” You stood up, and she followed. “Fix your relationships at the tower, alright?”

“Don’t,” she muttered, tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t tell me that you don’t want to try and then act like you care about me.”

You both walked to the door, because you knew that I the end she would do what you asked of her. “We were friends first.” You insisted. “We were friends first, Natasha, so I care. So, because we were friends first, I’ll tell you to get better. Work on yourself. Fall in love with someone else. Maybe not with two people at the same time.”

Her face was utterly pitiful. Her eyes were watering in a way you had never seen them do before, and her hands were shaking. You had seen the most of Natasha that anyone had in the entire world, yet you had never seen her so torn apart, so open. She laid it all out for you like you had been doing for her for years, and now you were finally the one to ruin the pretty picture. “Please.”

As soft as a gentle breeze came your next word. “No.” You yanked your apartment door open, and then you were both shivering. She looked up at you, her face full of an expression of the most shattered you had seen her yet, and the part of you that still ached prayed that it would be the last time you would ever see her at all.

Your body moved on its own. It asked for one more point of contact, just one more before you deprived yourself from the person you loved the most. Your lips pressed against the crown of her head as you told yourself it was for your own good. Your eyes shut as you put your hands on her shoulders, and tears were turning spots of her red hair dark. She was shaking underneath you, crying even harder than you were. You pulled away from her and opened the door wider.

“Wish you all the best, Nat.”

She walked away, off of your porch and into the night. You shut the door.

§§

You figured that you would miss her, but it wasn’t as bad as it was in the early part of leaving. By the time you moved on, it was far past the date of the wedding and even further past your anniversary. Sometimes it still hurt to think about how your life could have been had she chosen to stay faithful, but you learned that the scenarios hurt more than they helped and stopped.

You had a steady job, could keep up with the rent on your apartment, had enough for groceries and even had spare to get your nails done if you wanted to. You were doing it all, and you were doing it well after being attached at the hip to someone else for years and years.

There was a time where you would have thought that living without Natasha would be excruciating. The first night after you stormed out and cried yourself to sleep, you were sure that it would be painful, every night without her next to you would be like a stab in the gut. But after a while, it really wasn’t.

At first, it was. You missed her terribly, and, a part of you still did. You missed the good things that happened, but you realized that the good didn’t erase the bad, and that the bad didn’t erase the good. So, after a long time of thinking about her, your stance on Natasha Romanoff wasn’t hateful, or upset, or vengeful. You barely had one.

You thought about her and saw a book that you had finished reading a long time ago. Impactful at the time you read it, of course, and it could leave a longing imprint, but it was over. You could never relive that exact moment ever again that you read her, not a good one or a bad one. The hardest, most intense part of it was over, so far behind you that you could breathe again.

And damn, did it feel good to breathe.

§§§

Seeing her was awkward, and it was something that came straight out of your outdated imagination. You were by yourself buying apples at the market that you always went to because you adored fresh fruit, checking for bruises on them that were never there. You were carrying four in a bag with a content look on your face, just walking around and looking at other fruits and vegetables when you felt someone’s eyes on you. You looked up.

Sam Wilson was looking right at you, his jaw a little slack as he recognized you. You hadn’t seen him since you stormed out of the compound god knows how long ago. Within seconds, your life at the tower and memories with him flashed in your head. You two would cook together side by side often, and that's where you would do most of your bonding and talking with him. Your heart clenched for a moment, and then you raised the hand that wasn’t occupied and gave him a wave and a half smile, one that you hoped told him that you weren’t angry.

You looked back to the vegetables and then at the sign on the table. Damn, that’s kind of expensive. You shrugged your shoulders and put the greens on the weighing machine anyway, and pulled the money out of your purse for it. You smiled at the vendor and left with your new bag, wiggling your eyes at the strawberry table and starting your approach.

“Hi,” an achingly familiar voice called out while you were steps away from the table of deliciously red strawberries. You could smell them from where you were at. You turned around still, even after easily identifying who the voice belonged to. “How are you?”

She was as beautiful as ever, the top of her head under a blue ball cap and her eyebrows perfectly done. Her eyes were hidden by shades, but you didn’t need to see them to know what she was thinking. Her arms were loose at her sides, but her fingers were moving strangely, and you noticed them immediately as her nervous tick. You took in a deep breath.

“I’m good, how about you?” You asked Natasha back, and she gave you a pained smile.

“I’m alright.”

“Oh, sweet,” you said, and then gave her a parting smile before turning towards the strawberries.

“Wait,” she called out.

You stopped and turned your head, even though you wanted more than anything to forget that you ran into her. “Yes?”

There was a moment of silence between you two, and then she took a step forward. “Are you still upset?” She asked, voice lower in volume than usual.

You almost scoffed at her. “I’m an adult, I can’t really be sad for long or I’ll forget to pay a bill or something.”

“Can we talk?” She started, and you held up a hand.

“Let’s not open up old wounds,” you said, already knowing exactly where she was going with all of her hesitance and fiddling with her thumbs.

“I need to apologize for what happened.”

You shrugged. “I forgive you. Actually, I forgave you weeks and weeks ago. It’s okay. We can move on from it.” We need to move on from it.

You saw your old lover’s face light up in just the slightest, but just as fast as you saw it, it was gone. Her lack of wanting to express to you didn’t hurt anymore. “We?”

“We can move on,” you repeated, “just not together.” Her face dropped at what you said, and you shrugged your shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I fucked up.”

Yes, you did. “It’s in the past now.”

There was a pause, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You wondered when your heart started to beat on its own again and not for the woman standing so close yet so far away. You wondered when you started to do anything for just yourself, and you wondered when you had stopped doing that in the first place. Her voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Is it?”

You almost had to ask her to remind you what the conversation was about. “Oh. It is,” you said gently, but your voice was still stern. “All good things must come to an end, and what we had was good. It was great, and that must have meant that we were destined to end fast.”

She shook her head slightly. “If you- if you forgive me, it doesn’t have to be over.”

“It does.” You looked at your phone and sighed. “I have to leave.”

“Okay,” She said softly after a moment, and finally took a step back. It was a small one, like her body was trying to override her brain. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you, Nat.” You saw her wince, and if you hadn’t made peace with everything, you would have, too.

She took another step back and cleared her throat, just as Sam started making his way over. She nodded at you, and you gave her a small smile, almost encouraging. Just walk away, this is the last time you’ll have to do it. “Later,” She said, her voice a little hoarse as she turned on her heel and walked right past Sam.

“Later” meant never. And you didn’t know if you were supposed to feel nothing or everything about it.

§§§

The last time you saw Natasha Romanoff was a year later, when you were holding hands with a pretty woman from an art show that you went to. She stole your heart with her work, and she turned out just as beautiful on the inside as she was with a brush, and on the outside. Her name was Julie, and she was great. She was honest.

You really liked Julie. She wasn’t Natasha, though, and it was both refreshing and saddening, because you knew that what you felt with Natasha was a one time thing. You two had one chance to keep the bond that was seemingly inseparable and stronger than steel together, and everyone was rooting for you. And then, it just fell apart.

You knew that Natasha was your first actual love, and the only person who was ever going to be able to love you emotionally like you needed to be. The two of you were, in your mind, made for each other. If soulmates existed, Natasha would have been yours, and you would have been hers. You knew that even five years after not being with her, and while the hole in your heart wasn’t hollow, you had a feeling that a little something was always going to be cold, like a cavity that was never filled. Someone saying her name or asking about her was like chewing ice on it.

But people moved on. Just like you did. And you had moved on from the beautiful yet icy mountains of Natasha and into a soft and whimsical meadow, and that meadow was Julie.

You were holding hands with Julie, arms swinging as you were leaving the donut shop and talking about silly things that made the both of you grin when you caught a familiar flash of red. Out of instinct, you looked over your shoulder, and what you saw made you freeze.

Natasha Romanoff was with a girl with brown skin and black hair that was glinting in the sunlight, and she wasn’t focused on the way that you and Natasha locked eyes in that moment, the moment that seemed to last years. You didn’t think you were still moving, and it certainly didn’t feel like you were taking a step, but you were. You saw her blue-green eyes blink at you, and like you were still stuck on the same wavelength after all that time, you both raised a hand and gave a timid wave, small smiles gracing the both of your faces.

You saw the girl tug lightly on Natasha’s arm, and your grin stretched. Natasha looked over at the girl, and an immediate smile, one similar but not quite the same as she used to give to you, was on her face. You turned your head forward, a light smile still on your own face as you watched it all happen in a split second.

You both kept walking.

*****

ahahaha wow, that hurt really bad actually - never doing angst again i’m a fluffy type of gal

so i’ve never done a taglist before! so i hope i’m doing it right otherwise this’ll make me look incredibly dumb-

@messuhp @username23345 @fishlikestuff @thelastavenger-3000 @grievingfortheliving @madamevirgo @dontmindmejustreading @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @sourpatchspinster @fayhar @sarcasticallywitty15 @normanijauregui

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff angst #gay!natasha #this saddened me #my fics

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its-kall-the-clown · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, I'm send my ask cause I love your writing style. This is the aftermath I'd sick MK. Pigsy & Tang took him to the hospital while Wukong is in FFM waiting & worried out of his mind. So he flies there & he is in fir a shock when he discovers his kid is so sick & in hospital. Prompt list: #39 & 45.

*rubs clown hands together* yall really want part 3? >:3 its angsty but what else am I know for? XD

in this one Tang gets a chance to be a protective dad again

PART 1 PART 2

Prompt List

I'm Sorry Bud

Rating: G

Wukong wasn't worried. He was the incredibly handsome sage equal to heaven and super immortal. He had no reason to worry Except….maybe he was incredibly worried. No matter how much he tried, his stomach snapped and curled unhappily every time he even thought about MK.

He got a phone call.

Not from MK but from his dad Pigsy.

He didn't even get a word out before hellfire had rained down on him. Call him old school but there were definitely some new curse words that he had never heard before that spewed out of the hog's mouth.

He was flayed verbally so viscously he shuddered under the swearing and even looked over his shoulder to make sure the pigman did not spontaneously spawn behind him.

The call ended with Pigsy talking about taking MK to the hospital and it was HIS fault.

They hung up after that and Wukong hasn't stopped pacing for the past five minutes. MK was sick, running a deadly fever, and in the hospital because of it.

Because of him...

He bites his thumb, his tail lashing wildly behind him, while he continues to dig a trench with his feet.

"Fuck it."

He leaps upward, summoning his nimbus, and speeds off into the sky to the general Hospital. He's there for only a few minutes but it feels like forever. He didn't even wait for his nimbus to stop before he's timing off to the front doors.

He probably scares the poor lady behind the desk with how he practically slammed into it with how fast he was rushing. He asked for MK which got him nothing till he realized he needed to probably give them his full real name. After saying Qi Xiaotian Sanzang they directed him to a room.

He rushes to room 607 but before he can even get a hand in the door he's grabbed roughly by the shoulder.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you…"

Wukong turned around to see MK's other dad, Tang, he's holding a few water bottles under his arm and a can of instant coffee. Looks like they were going to settle on for the night at MKs side, and Tang had been sent out on the errand the get them some drinks.

"Pigsy is still in there, and he's not too keen on seeing your face."

They scan the king up and down with passive eyes that hold a twinge of resentment that makes the fur on the back of his neck bristle defensively.

"I just want to see him…..make sure he's okay." He pleads and the passive gaze melts a little bit sympathetically.

"Please," Wukong begs again, even going so far as to duck his head submissively to the mortal. He just wanted to make sure MK was okay. It was his fault after all that they were sick. He should have never let them egg him on into training in the rain.

Tang looks him over again, studying him with a keen eye. He lets out a sigh eventually and walks forward.

"Okay, but only because MK asked about you once. let me get Pigsy out of the room first."

Wukogn jerks his head upward with surprise. He was actually going to let him see MK?

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I might not convince him to leave MK's side, wait here and disguise yourself or something." Tang gives him a little head nod before entering the room and shutting the door. Wukong does as requested and transforms into a beatle to cling to the wall.

A few minutes pass and at first, the monkey thinks that Tang couldn't do it and Pigsy wouldn't leave MK's side. But the door opens and the pig demon exits with a grumble about finding a nurse or doctor. Wukong barely has time to fly between the cracks before the door is shut again. He transforms back, landing on his feet.

MK is there.

He looks awful.

The poor boy is laying in a hospital bed, iv hooked up to him to administer fluids and a cooling compress to his forehead. Wukong approaches the bed reverently feeling his heart shatter into a million pieces.

"When they took his temp initially he was running a 104-degree fever," Tang explains walking up beside him and grabbing MK's limp hand.

"He was delirious, crying and shouting Something about being a disappointment before he passed out." They finish, the man rubbing MK's knuckles tenderly. Wukong takes the other side of the bed. And knees there to look at them up close.

"It's your fault you know."

It's like a full-body slam into a mountain. The words were delivered without mercy. He didn't even look at Tang and instead swallowed stiffly.

"You show up out of nowhere, pick MK without any reason that I can understand, and then you make him fill these impossibly big shoes!?" Tang's fist tightens at his side, face growing red slowly and Wukong isn't sure if he prefers this simmering rage of the explosive rage of Pigsy.

"You know how hard it was to build MK back up when we adopted him officially??? He was just a scared timid boy, no confidence! We had to HELP him get where he is now. And then you come along and just-" Tang throws his hands up in the air in frustration "-ruin that in a couple of weeks" he finishes with a growl. Wukogn shrinks further, this feels an awful like when he would get scolded like his master for doing something wrong and he didn't even have a defense for it. All of it was true. He did pick MK for little reason other than he likes the kid's spunk and good heart.

And he was making them fill big shoes. And maybe the big shoes were just too hard for MK to walk in, and maybe he noticed that but didn't help him because he assumed they would get better with time.

"I'm sorry…." He whispers out burying his face into the sheets of MK's bed. He whimpers feeling the guild nash and bites at the lining of his stomach.

"It's your fault...and I don't know if I want ML training with you anymore…."

It was all his fault.

His fault.

"Baba...Don't...yell at monkey king."

His head jerks up to find that MK was conscious now, a hand reaches for his head and scratches the top of it like he's a monkey.

"MK…" Tang starts and is cut off by MK who shakes his head.

"Not his fault….he's so lonely." The by comments driving a knife between Monkey King's ribs and stabbing his heart. Those fingers continue to scratch the top of his head deliriously.

"You need to rest, bud. If you don't rest you won't get better." He instructs holding back something in his throat that he realizes is a pur.

"Mmmmkay. Do I look okay?" They asked and Wukong chuckled at the odd question.

"You look fine. Just rest please." He pleads and MK nods his head drearily before drifting back to sleep. Tang and he look at each other, bewildered by the experience. Tang studies him for a moment, eyes drifting over his form at MK's side with the boy's fingers still intertwined with the fur on the top of his head.

Tang must find what he's looking for because his shoulders relax slightly

"You may continue to train MK…." He holds up a finger. "On the condition that you are open and honest with him AND us about his training." He instructs and Wukong nods

"You also cut back to every other evening instead of every night after work. You're going to break him and wear him out. If in a week I decide that's still too much it gets cut back again. Understand?" Tang looks expectantly to Wukong who nods his head up and down quickly. These rules were more than fair, he could do that! Hell, he would tell MK himself of these new rules if he needed to.

The door clicks

"Tang the doctor said those vital signs were normal right now. I TOLD you this" Pigsy enters the room and looks at the display before him. Tang is sitting by MK's side, holding his hand and the window opens slightly.

"Why did you open the window?"

"I-it was a bit stuffy in here" Tang admits looking to where Wukong was just a few seconds ago and then to the window. He must have escaped quickly when he heard Pigsy enter the room. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Pigsy grumbles something and walks to the window and shuts it. Then he trudges over to his lover's wide and buries his face into it.

"He's gonna be okay…." Tang reassures and the pig demon who lets put a huff through his snout into their chest. Tang kisses the top of Pigsy's head affectionately and that causes them to melt on his hold.

They all were going to be okay.

#monkie kid #lego monkey kid #MK #Sun Wukong #Monkey King #Tang #Pigsy #Tang's turn to be a protective dad #writting prompt #prompt ask

122 notes · View notes

neutron-stars-collision · 4 years ago

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 22 - Not Strong Enough

Masterlist; Chapter 21

Summary: You reunite with Neil aboard the icebreaker. With the tension amping up and the mission nearing it’s finale, you have a difficult time making sense of everything.

Warnings: angst (yep, loads of it), swearing.

Author’s Notes: Here it is, finally! Know it took me ages, and I’m so sorry for that. Hopefully from now on it won’t be as bad... This one was fun to write since there’s a lot of emotions to go through :)) Hope you’ll enjoy! Let me know what you think!

PS. Now that we’re onto the icebreaker chapters let me just say that I’ve got a lot planned ;) and I’m excited to share it so thank you all who have sticked around <3

The moment you stepped out of the inversion chambers and into the normal world (well, normal but looking fucked up to you and eight days previously), Ives received the promised further instructions. Get to Trondheim with the local squad, regroup with the reinforcements there, get on board the icebreaker equipped with the inversion technology. At least that was the information you got. Easy. Well, almost, but thankfully nothing seemed to depend on you. Yet. So, you followed the rest of the squad onto the chinook, ignoring the phone that never rang anymore. That was okay. You would not even know what to tell Neil if he called. In less than two hours, you were on military transport to Norway. Again.

In the tense silence of those hours of flight, it was easy to rest. At least you have changed the setting and could focus on stressing about all that was to come instead of the personal matters. Yes, you would have to face Neil and probably work with him as though nothing happened. But the more pressing matter was the potential world ending. For that, you could endure the pain. Focusing on avoiding hyperventilation through the mask, you fell asleep, giving in to the tiredness. When Wheeler shook you awake hours later, you have landed at the base in Trondheim. The icebreaker was supposed to cross by the shore on the next day, leaving the night to be camped out in the military containers on the periphery of the base.

You were lucky to land a spot in the container shared with Wheeler, as she was second in command, and you were still considered ‘precious cargo’. Precious to whom you had no idea. But that did not matter. After a quick meal made up of tin food and weak tea from the thermos, your roommate left for an inspection of the troops and a confab with Ives. You had peace. Taking off the unnecessary layers of clothing, you intended to use the time to curl up under the covers and mope. But it was not meant to be. Suddenly the silence of the air-locked container got pierced by your phone ringing. What the hell… Glancing at the display, your heart stopped for a split second. For a moment, you wanted to ignore it. To pretend you are not available. But your heart knew better, unable to give up the possibility of hearing his voice after all this time. Sitting up on the cot, you picked up the phone. A long exhale on the other side followed by…

“Hey”

As simple as that. Fuck. Neil’s voice was enough to trigger the feelings. The husky tone, the tiredness you sensed through that one word alone. The advantage of the phone call was that he could not hide too much. Not from you.

“Hi… um, why…” you trailed off, annoyed at how something so simple could disrupt the fragile peace.

But judging by the long pause, it was not just you for whom the conversation was a struggle. Brilliant.

“TP told me to call you” right, “Give you a run-down of the state of affairs, so tomorrow is easier for us all,” he added, using that professional tone you came to detest.

Call you? The voice of reason tried to break through the amalgamation of thoughts and feelings. It did not make much sense, seeing as TP did not even trust you after the latest revelations.

“Me?” you blurted out.

Anyone else would have been a more obvious choice. But Neil called you. Why? You wanted to add that question to the mix, but before you could do so, he came up with an answer.

“Not exactly, but I’ve decided that you can pass it on to Ives and so on” the uncertainty in his voice ignited the spark.

“I see” that was the only comment you could muster.

But he understood. He cleared his throat before resuming the conversation. An image flashed before your eyes: tired Neil, with ruffled hair, curled up in the armchair in Oslo, glancing at you from the pages of the book you just borrowed him. That stupid soft smile gracing his exquisite features. Eyes sparkling with satisfaction and affection. Enough.

“We’ve managed to save Kat with that stunt in Oslo…” his voice brought you back to the present moment.

That was something. Despite not having even talked to Kat, you felt sympathy towards her.

“I’m glad. Is she alright?” you occupied the shaking hands with picking up pieces of lint off the blanket.

It did not help your racing pulse. Or the increasing ache in your chest.

“Yeah, she’s recovering. There’s a scar, but that’s nothing compared to what could’ve happened”

God knows what made you say the first thing on your mind then:

“We’ve all been scarred… one way or another” as soon as the words left your mouth, you knew that it was too much.

Fucked up again. It was difficult to remember that you were not supposed to share your thoughts with him anymore. That this was not allowed. Once again, so much had to be left unspoken just for the sake of your sanity.

“I know that better than anyone” his response and the sombre tone made you swallow hard.

Of course. You had no doubts he was regretting the decision to take that bullet for you in New York. After all, the scar was there to haunt him for eternity, reminding him of the time and effort wasted on you.

“TP met with Priya in Oslo…” the change of topic was vital, “She told him about the algorithm and got us the icebreaker” Neil explained.

Back to business. Thank God. All would be perfect if it was not for the audible strain in his voice. It was evidently torturing. For both of you.

“Sator’s got it? All of the parts?” clearing your head, you asked the most important of questions.

How fucked were you?

“Yes,” no hesitation.

Very much so. What would life be without a world-ending scenario taking place just when everything was coming apart? Too boring, probably.

“Fuck” you breathed into the phone, taking a beat to think, “Do we know where? When?”

At least anxiety now had a proper anchor. Something to dig into and stay fixed for a while. A constant companion.

“The day of the Kiev opera siege. But I don’t know where, TP won’t tell me” the remorse was palpable, “Kat helped us piece it together. Sator’s dying, and probably intends to kill himself and trigger the dead-drop, activating the algorithm” double fuck.

Could it get worse? You dared not ask. For a moment, you were grateful Neil called you with the news. At least that way, you heard it from someone you trusted. Or once trusted.

“Jesus…” the silence on the other end was almost comforting, “So that’s the plan? To go back and try to stop him…” you trailed off, raking your head for ways to fix things.

Inversion for over a week more was one thing. Actually pulling this off was another. Because you doubted someone like Sator would be unprepared. You could only hope someone had a plan. Or that your helpful texts would come around. One could wish.

“Yes, in essence,” Neil confirmed your thoughts with that ever-present gloom in his tone.

He was worried too. That eternal desire to comfort him nagged at your bruised heart. It would only get worse once he was within your reach. The collision was unavoidable.

“Okay,” suddenly you wanted nothing but to end the call and sleep, “I’ll let Ives know”

With the awkwardness burning bright, the goodbye was on the tip of your tongue. But…

“I-” Neil cut himself off suddenly.

What? The curiosity was relentless.

“Do you need anything else?” you sat up straighter, forcing the nonchalance.

“No,” after a beat, he added, “Well-”

Christ. There was no power to ignore him.

“Yes?” you stifled the butterflies in your stomach.

It could only hurt more. Surely he would not have anything better to say.

“How are you doing?” the question was dropped with merciless indifference.

You were right. Only he could be that blunt. Unable to keep cool, you cursed out loud:

“Fuck’s sake” taking a deep breath, you gathered all the needed strength to continue, “Neil, do you seriously want me to answer this question?”

There was not enough air in the room. Forcing yourself to calm down, you stared at the wall, counting dents in the metal. Anything to stop the panic.

“I just thought... we’re... I haven’t seen you in over a week and-” he stumbled over the sentence pathetically.

“Maybe it’s better you stop thinking,” you cut him off, feeling the familiar surge of anger “For a while”

How did he dare? You would have thought that he would know better. That he would understand that things changed, and he was no longer allowed access into your mind. But trust Neil to mess it up. To be ignorant of how you felt.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you” the soft tone took you by surprise.

Despite the shock, you were too pissed off to give in.

“... I’m afraid you’ve fucked it then,”

There was no stopping the words that spilled from your throat. They rolled off your tongue, fueled by bitterness and hurt.

“It’s not easy getting over rejection, but then you wouldn’t know that. Everyone wants you. And if they don’t, you move on. No hearts harmed in the process. But not everyone is that lucky” you finished only once there was no breath left in your lungs.

Now he knew. The words hung in the space between you, making the phone seem heavy in your hand. Too much too soon. Just when you thought Neil would not respond, you could hear him take a deep breath before asking:

“Is this really how you understand what I said?” the strange timbre in his voice was confusing.

It was as though he was utterly defeated, devoid of anything but resignation. But why? It was you who were hurting, not him. It made no sense.

“Yes,” that had to suffice.

You already said too much, exposed yourself again. Giving him ammunition to strike when necessary. There was no pretending that you did not care. Or that your misplaced love confession during your last conversation was a lie. A sudden noise at the airlock made you look up. Wheeler entered your shared container, oblivious to the drama taking place. After a second of hesitation, you found that you did not mind the company. Once your eyes met, you just nodded, giving her permission to stay. The sombre half-smile told you she suspected who was on the other end.

“I haven’t pushed you away. When you…” Neil’s voice came through the speaker again.

A hint of desperation. As though he wanted you to understand something obvious. But there was nothing there. You could not forget how he took everything but never gave anything back. It was rather simple.

“There’s a major difference between love and want” stating the truth, you could feel Wheeler’s attentive gaze on you “Doubt you’d push away someone as desperate as I was. Especially when you could have something pleasant out of it. But that doesn’t mean you love me” the strength needed to say those words was all you could manage “I need to go now”

You desperately wanted to bury yourself under the blanket and sleep. Maybe never wake up. That could be nice.

“…I’ll see you tomorrow then” the reluctance tore into the remains of your heart.

Tomorrow. Too soon. You knew there was no way of preparing for it. You would have to endure the unbearable and bear it. The world was more important than your comfort or pride.

“Yes, unfortunately,” the honesty could not hurt anyone.

Least of all Neil. You ended the call before he could say anything else and dropped the phone on the bed. Fuck. Burying your head in the pillow, you tried to level the breathing.

“Are you alright?” Wheeler’s question drifted across the narrow space.

“I will be,” you shrugged, turning to lie on your back and stare at the ceiling.

Emptiness. And even more anxiety. Amazing combo. And all because of that dyed blonde lanky bastard with eyes too blue and jaw too sharp. Trust you to fall for the unattainable.

“It was him, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” you glanced sideways at your companion with a grimace, “He called to give me a summary of the events, so to speak” that part still did not make sense, but who were you to argue.

Wheeler let out a low hum, making you face her. You did not like the suspicious expression on her face. But you were too tired to ask. Ignorance is our ammunition and all that. You resumed the summary with a heart even heavier:

“And then he asked how I am, and I just…” you trailed off, giving in to the feelings, “Christ, I’ve no clue how I’m supposed to meet him tomorrow”

Pathetic, again. You half expected Wheeler to slap you for being an annoying, lovesick teenager pining after her crush. Which you were, in all fairness. But instead, you felt a hand pat your arm reassuringly.

“You’ll manage” glancing up, you met the warm smile of your companion, “You’re strong” before you could argue, she added, “And from what I’ve heard, you two really should talk, so maybe the opportunity will come up” it was her turn to shrug, wandering off to prepare the second cot.

“I suppose” that sounded like a nightmare “Got news for you and Ives, by the way”

You were hoping she will make you go to the squad leader right this moment. That would be a perfect distraction.

“Those can wait till tomorrow, get some sleep”

Well, fuck.

*** The nerves and increasing panic only caught up with you in the containers on the way to the icebreaker. The morning was spent in that blissful motion you needed so badly. You passed on the information to squad leaders, packed up, and got ready for the journey, which commenced after you got a call from the ship’s captain. The time spent on board was too short for your liking. Gripping the duffel back with your belongings, you focused on breathing slowly while the chinook approached the icebreaker, preparing to drop the containers and fly off. Somehow, the rattling and the cramped space of the metal box were almost comforting. No one could hurt you there. There was no one to escape and to hide from. But, of course, that too was over too soon. As the container touched the ground with a thud, making you all jump up, you only had a moment to clench your jaw. Ives stood up and opened the door as you all formed a proper formation for disembarking. The cold, piercing light of the sun hit you in the face as the wind tangled the cord connecting your oxygen tank to the mask. One look around assured you of two things – you would have to get accustomed to the sight of sea and sky for miles and that there was no hiding from Neil.

He was there, stood right next to TP, awaiting your arrival. It took you a moment to get accustomed to his military get-up. The black windbreaker zipped up, cargo pants with armour pads on the knees, and heavy boots. Hair windswept, falling into his eyes, making you want nothing but to brush it away. Brilliant. And naturally, he noticed you as well, eyes looking over your frame and face, searching for something. You did wonder whether he found it. To distract yourself, your gaze slipped over to look at TP. Still suspicious and serious. But at least he was not staring at you, trying to see into your soul. And that was enough.

“Welcome aboard” his grim countenance lit up for a second.

After a motion from Ives, you stepped up along with him and Wheeler, joining the two men. You had a proper look around. The rows of containers, rigs, and equipment being stacked in crates, ready for the upcoming battle. Eyeing the accommodation part of the cargo ship, you listened on to the conversation:

“Where exactly are we heading?” Ives’s voice cut straight to the point.

Good question. You glanced back at TP, only to find an enigmatic smile grace his features.

“All in the right time,” he responded, and you could see Neil grimace.

Somehow seeing him that frustrated did not cause any satisfaction. Quite the contrary even. To your inner horror, his eyes met yours right then. Curiously considering, before he reached out a hand:

“It’s good to see you” that was undoubtedly directed at you.

The empty pleasantry hurt like a bitch. But, with four pairs of eyes set on you, there was no choice but to accept the outstretched hand. Swallowing down the panic, you let his hand envelope yours in the casual handshake. Even that amount of contact was enough to make you spiral. Especially with how his thumb brushed over your knuckles. The eyes never leaving yours, urging you to understand something. What you had no clue. The moment was over before you realised, and Neil directed the next sentiment at your companions.

“All of you” they exchanged the handshakes while you stared on.

Once that was done, TP directed your attention towards the accommodation again:

“We’ll show you what’s where” he started walking, giving the directions on the go, “Let everyone else disembark in the meantime”

At least he was more like himself.

You followed them, taking in all the shown spaces. The lower part was occupied by the turnstile and potential training spaces. As you passed, you could hear Ives making arrangements for the troops to start sparing and shooting practice as soon as possible. Next, there were bunk beds and sleeping spaces for everyone. Rows upon rows of small bunks, only privacy was a curtain separating the mattress from the outside world. But it had to do, of course. As you moved up past the machinery, the kitchen, and the common spaces, you have been led to an airlocked corridor near the bridge.

“That’s where we sleep” TP waved a hand in the general direction of the many doors in the corridor.

There was a total of four cabins and a bathroom. Your gaze settled on Neil again. Entirely on its own accord. He shifted hesitantly before directing a question at the squad leader:

“Ives, do you guys want to stay with the troops?”

You could see the emotions bubbling under the nonchalant expression. It was not the usual charming, suave Neil you have met. Now there was uncertainty, doubt, and insecurity. As though he suddenly lost all the confidence and was trying to piece himself together. You did wonder what made him hurt that much.

“Yeah, that’s better for the morals,” Ives replied, ending your strange thoughts.

“As you wish,” Neil grinned in response, before glancing at TP, “I’ll go check on Kat”

Before anyone could respond, he disappeared down the corridor. Interesting. Could it be that he too was bothered by what was going on? Difficult to imagine but plausible.

“Those are yours, Y/N” the mention of your name made you look up.

TP was staring at you inquisitively, a hand on a doorknob, awaiting a reaction. That was unexpected. As much as the fact that he used your name. And did not look that pissed off anymore. You did wonder what was said during their journey back to Oslo. How much did he know?

“I thought I’ll be with the rest of the squad” you stared back quizzically.

“Neil made sure you got your own space” TP shrugged as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

What the hell. Was that why he so casually run off?

“How very kind of him,” you muttered, feeling the gazes of everyone else burning on your skin.

Damn people and their curiosity.

“He’s down the corridor, if-” oh fuck no.

“Thanks,” you cut off the boss with the voice as cold as ice.

He understood, nodding curtly. Thank god. It was enough to know that Neil was close. You did not need the specifics. Or the insinuations behind the information. It did not matter; you would not be visiting him any time soon. Or ever.

*** You have managed to avoid meeting Neil throughout the day. It was busy, filled with getting settled aboard the icebreaker and planning what the next days are going to hold. You were not told what your destination was, but you had a clue Ives knew. That was… disappointing. You have happily missed the mealtime, choosing to hide in the 2 x 3 metres of space that was your cabin. The small bed, one round window, tiny bedside cabinet, and a chair were all you could depend on for the next eight days. Not bad. You were intent on staying there for as long as possible, avoiding the outside unless absolutely necessary. It was a good plan until, at around 1 am, your stomach started rumbling. Supposedly a whole day on just breakfast was bound to end like this. But you were still outraged. Because that meant going out. And here there be monsters. Sighing heavily, you put on the shoes and a jacket and warily stepped into the corridor. Silence. Cold metal walls and floors, deep dark shadows. With the official meeting taking place the next morning, you were hoping everyone was asleep. Or doing whatever people did at night.

Sealing the airlock in the small kitchen, you took off the oxygen mask and placed it on the small table. The galley was equipped with the necessary stuff, including a large, packed fridge, a kettle, sink, and some cabinets filled with non-perishable foods. The eerie silence was almost deafening, so you turned the kettle on, creating background noise. Going through the arsenal, you chose to prepare a sandwich and a tea and then promptly run away to your room. Just in case. As you set to work, confidence grew. Maybe you got lucky. You were in the middle of cutting the bread roll in half when the unmistakable sound of the zipper rung out. Fuck.

“… Hey,” of course.

Your hand slipped, knife slicing open the skin on your pointer finger. Blood dripping onto the counter.

“Shit!” you cursed and dropped the knife, bringing the injured finger to your mouth.

As the coppery taste dissolved on your tongue, you risked turning around to face the intruder. That was mistake number one. Neil was staring at you with concern etched onto his face. Lips pursed; brows furrowed. Hair ruffled as though he has been outside for an extended period of time. The moment your eyes met his, you felt trapped. There was nowhere to go. Just you and him, in 7 square metres. Bloody perfect. His gaze flitted between you and your wounded hand, hesitating and calculating. It was obvious, even to him.

“Are you alright?” the strange unfamiliarity took you by surprise.

You could see the conflict plain as day. Glancing at the cut, you were relieved to see that it was rather shallow, albeit still bleeding significantly. Turning on the tap to rinse it, you replied:

“Yep,” that simple.

And yet not at all. Neil edged closer, stopping right next to you but preserving a meter of space. Turning off the water, you looked up at him curiously. Too close. The blue threatened to drown you if you were not careful. He reached out a hand with fingers trembling slightly. You were frozen in the spot, seeing but unable to react, as he took another step forward.

“Show me-” the moment his skin made contact with yours, the paralysis disappeared.

God no. You jumped back, hitting the edge of the counter with your back. A dull throbbing was nothing compared to the hammering heart and the searing pain in your chest. His eyes widened in shock. Your reaction was evidently unexpected.

“No, that won’t be necessary” finding the voice again, you mustered a tight-lipped smile.

If this were to work, you had to avoid any physical contact. Somehow you knew that if he touched you, the resolve would begin to crumble. That could not happen. You took a deep breath and focused back on the task. The tension was of the knife-cutting kind. Swallowing you both in despair. In the corner of your eye, you could see Neil hesitate, watching you closely. Then he must have made up his mind, for he opened the fridge and started searching for something. After another minute of near-fatal awkwardness, you spoke up:

“Have you been outside?” a simple question dropped in an almost neutral tone.

Fitting perfectly between strokes of the butter knife on the roll. Small talk, easy enough, right?

“Yeah, I’ve watched the stars” Neil took out bread and settled by you at the counter “The sky’s pretty clear tonight” he glanced at you for a second, an enigmatic look on his face.

The walls were up. Back to pretending.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, praying to every god in the universe for help.

Thankfully, one must have listened… Well, sort of.

“You’ve missed the meal earlier,” he noticed while turning on the toaster.

Of course, he would. Forcing your hands to stay steady as you sliced up the tomato, you thought of a good enough answer. Because the truth would not do.

“Just didn’t feel like it” you shrugged, avoiding his eyes.

But he was staring. Leaning by the counter, watching you closely. You felt that this was it when it came to a casual conversation between you.

“But now you do?” this next question sounded differently.

There was a suspicious edge to his voice that you knew would be reflected in his eyes. Your acting was not good enough for this. Swallowing down the rising discomfort, you faced him and steeled your features.

“Yes,” that should suffice.

But then, seeing him attempt psychoanalysis through the means of staring, you chose honesty.

“I was hoping I won’t meet anyone around here this late,” you added and met his gaze.

A challenge. Tell me how I’m wrong, kind of thing. The truth he so clearly wanted. And Neil took it without hesitation.

“Anyone? Or just me?” eyes narrowed; lips curled into a smirk you did not like.

What the fuck? You felt a rush of anger. He maybe was right. But that did not mean he was allowed to question you. To make claims as clear as this.

“What’s your point?” you arched an eyebrow, forcing the most neutral of tones.

A shadow passed through his face, a hint of uncertainty. But as soon as you noticed it, it was gone. He shook his head with an almost imperceptible smile.

“No matter” waving his hand dismissively, he reached for the kettle.

Too close again. His arm brushed against yours as he filled in both of your mugs with the boiling water. You glared at that but chose to bite back the comment. At least he was being useful…

“You were rather quiet earlier...” Neil’s voice brought you back to the present moment.

Your head snapped up, meeting his intense stare. What? From the curiosity in his eyes, you deduced that he was waiting for an answer to that. You were sure to deliver.

“If you wanted me to publicly declare my hatred for you, then I’m sorry to disappoint,” shrugging, you took satisfaction in the way his eyes widened “Are you using that?” pointing at the container with sugar, you observed him a little longer.

Neil seemed less confident now. His tense posture and clenched jaw showed as much. Or the fact that suddenly he was not as eager to stare at you. Maybe that was a win. The only response you got was a head nod for ‘no’. But before you could celebrate the unlikely victory, he spoke again:

“Last time we talked, you said something a little different” there was that suspicious edge again.

You did not dare meet his eyes. The casual way in which he referred to the event made your blood boil. Because that was all the evidence you needed to confirm the worst-case assumptions: he did not care. To Neil, all this was a passing thing, something you can let go of when it becomes inconvenient. Trust you to give your heart to someone like that. The thought gave you an idea. What was said could not be unsaid, but…

“Yeah, but I thought about it, and... I take it back” once the words left your mouth, you felt a stronger surge of fury.

It only got worse when you caught a glimpse of hurt in the depths of his eyes. It was hidden well but still there.

“What?” Neil swallowed hard.

You could see that he did not expect that from you. Good. Perhaps it was a lie, but who was to say you had to be honest. After all, he was not, as it turned out. The look of confusion on his face made you turn up the emotions, throwing in irritability to the mix.

“I know you can be dense, but I’m sure you understood it well enough. I take back what I said in Tallinn” no effort was needed to be mean.

Just as easy as it was to lie. Perhaps too easy even. Out of curiosity, you watched him absorb what you said. At first, Neil’s lips parted a little as though he was holding in a gasp. Then he tensed, and eyebrows furrowed. That was denial. It was replaced with a painfully fake smile. One that did not reach his eyes. In summary, Neil did not seem relieved by what you said. Nor did he seem happy about it. Tough luck.

“Feelings change, huh?” nonchalantly he eyed you as though trying to find anything amiss.

The intensity of his gaze felt as though the fire was burning your skin. Suddenly the casual outfit seemed inadequate. Almost nonexistent in how he could see right through it. It took you a moment to shook it off. To remember that this was a duel, and you could still win. But only if you did not allow him to get too close.

“No. People do” you shrugged and went back to finishing the tea.

Just like that. A silence. And then the sound of a throat being cleared awkwardly:

“What are you trying to say?” unsure and shocked.

The metaphorical penny dropped. You could spare him the torture.

“You know,” putting away the teaspoon with a clink you eyed the toaster, “You might want to take that toast out unless you fancy eating carbon”

“Thanks,” Neil offered you a tight-lipped smile before he attended the burned toast.

You felt like that was the perfect metaphor for the state of your relationship. Or whatever the fuck was it. You were not sure what made you stay then. The walk back to your room did not seem convenient anymore. And the table was right there… It was rather risky, but then it was hard to deny yourself the pleasure. However questionable it may be. He was still your Neil, and his presence felt like the home you have desperately missed. Fortune favours the brave, or whatever. Ignoring his surprised look, you set down the plate and the mug and sat down at the narrow table. You did not have to wait long for a question:

“Do you mind if I stay?” the uncertainty in his voice made you look up.

Sure enough, the blue eyes were fixed on you with reluctance. As though he did not expect you to allow him that much. But then… why not? Perhaps it was the masochistic tendencies speaking.

“Suit yourself” you offered him the tiniest of smiles and focused on finally eating the carefully prepared sandwiches.

The ones you paid in blood and nerves for. At least they were good. After another moment, Neil joined, taking his seat opposite you. You could not help but snicker at the blackened toasts gracing his plate.

For a few minutes, you ate in silence, stealing glances at each other as though they were a crime. For you, they almost felt like it. His blonde hair (fake, as you had to remind yourself) reflected the fluorescents, giving him that angelic look that used to draw you in. It still did as much, only now it was paired with desperation everybody feels when faced with the unattainable. The forbidden fruit. Unable to stop yourself, you glanced at his lips then. The pull was still there, threatening to come crashing down and leave you gasping for air. But you could not give in.

“You saw us” as though Neil could read your mind, he spoke up, “Back at the airport, with Kat,” adding, he met your gaze.

You could tell that this was another attempt at small talk of sorts. You wondered how long this would take until another argument could begin to brew.

“Yeah,” nodding, you took a sip of the tea.

That was all he needed. The moment still sometimes haunted you. The look in his eyes when Neil saw you in Oslo. Now it all made more sense. The shock and apprehension. You were probably the last person he wanted to see back then.

“Why you’ve never said anything?” the question took you by surprise.

Neil, of all people, should know better. You took a moment to gather the thoughts, staring back into those eyes that seemed to see right through you.

“I just followed your favourite logic” upon his confused expression, you explained, “What’s happened-”

“-Happened” he grinned; too proud “You know me well”

His hand that was resting by the mug twitched as though he wanted to reach out. You could not tear your eyes away from it, battling the most primal of instincts that just wanted to touch him. Ignoring the urge, you finished the tea and muttered the answer:

“I thought I do”

It was another of those things that were too easy to tell him. Even though you were being vulnerable through admitting it. Most rules were broken already.

“But?”

You stood up, avoiding the desire to look him in the eye. Anything to make this easier. Enough. You got what you wanted, but now it was time to leave. To cut this torture short for you both.

“If Tallinn taught me anything is that I don’t know you at all. Not the real you, anyway” you rinsed the dishes and moved to the door “Now, excuse me-”

Neil moved fast. Before you could realise he stood up, his hand was wrapped around your arm, making escape impossible. Bewildered by the feelings rushing in all at once, you met his eyes. Even through the two layers of clothing, his touch was burning you. A reminder of all that you have lost. The immeasurable depth of expression in Neil’s face was not helping. You could discern determination, worry, and panic, among others. As though only now he has realised the extent of the damage.

“I never lied to you. Not even once” his grip tightened as he took a step forward.

Your back hit the wall, trapping you between him and the cold metal.

“Should I congratulate you?” stifling the raising panic, you stared up at him with defiance.

It worked.

“…Jesus,” Neil swallowed hard, unable to hide the exasperation, “Why are you like this?”

With the newly found position, you could easily judge his state of mind. He was annoyed, angry even. And that was triggering. Even though the proximity was slowly hazing your mind, proposing scenarios that could never happen. Fuck. You took a deep breath to calm down. To ignore how it felt to have someone look at you like this. Not platonically.

“If you need to ask, I think there’s no point in dragging this conversation any longer” finding your voice again you made sure to turn up the notch “I’d rather go to sleep than get rejected again” the coldness came out of nowhere.

But it was helpful. He did not expect that. The hand on your arm relaxed a little.

“I never rejected you” crease between his eyebrows deepened.

Right. Unable to stop the rising bitterness, you scoffed in his face. This was the opportunity to win the battle and get away before you could fuck it up even worse.

“You’re right,” you relished in the utter confusion visible “You did something worse. But I’m really not in the mood to argue, so… please let me go” gingerly, you placed your hand on his chest with the intent to push him away.

That was another mistake. Neil covered your palm with his, making you shudder. That was enough to make everything worse. Because there was no way of stopping the thoughts. Of ignoring the want, you tried to suppress for the past week. With him this close, touching you as though he meant it, you soon realised how bad it was. There was no way of getting rid of the feelings.

“I’m worried about you. You don’t look well” he broke the tense silence, forcing you to look up.

As if. His face was too striking. With blood pounding in your ears, you made another attempt at freeing yourself by trying to push him away.

“I don’t need your sympathy” taking a step forwards you hoped he would back off.

He did not. The concern visible in his blue eyes was overwhelming any last bit of sanity. All that was left did not make any sense. For a second, you wanted nothing but to have an innocent passerby interrupt you. The embarrassment could be worth it.

“I’m pretty sure you haven’t slept in days. And I-”

Neil was too close. The hand that was wrapped around your arm slid down to your waist while the other wandered up, fingers ghosting your neck. You closed your eyes for a split second, calming down the racing thoughts. This could not happen.

“Neil, stop,” shaking off the paralysis, you cupped his cheek “You can’t help me. So, let’s just leave it,” pouring in all the despair into your gaze, you met his eyes.

What you saw reflected was startling. You have never seen him that confused.

“I…” he faltered, losing the momentum that was there a second ago.

You were winning. But there was no satisfaction. Just the overwhelming despair, tempting you to make use of the predicament. Just this once. It was too easy to let your fingers caress his jaw, feeling the two-day stubble he did not bother shaving off. The disorientation in his eyes deepened as he stared at you with amazement. Speechless, frozen in the moment that seemed endless. As you brushed the pad of your thumb over his lips, Neil inhaled sharply, waking up from the reverie. His grip on your waist tightened, drawing you even closer. The expression in his eyes shifted. Pupils darkened as want took over the reason. You could feel yourself slipping down the slippery slope. Risking too much for god knows what. Or why. The air he breathed out ghosted your lips, an offer of what you could have. The exact same thing you have missed more than anything else. As if guided by the gravity itself, you leaned in, your noses brushing. Mere two inches of space. It would be so easy…

“If you don’t love me, then what is this?” Neil asked, breaking the silence and putting on another enigmatic smile.

The audacity of the question felt like a punch in the gut. That was the harsh wake-up call. Your salvation.

“Whatever it was for you in Tallinn,” you bit back, letting the anger seep into your answer “Let me go” the ice-cold tone was a perfect touch.

Neil took one last long look over your face before he stepped back, releasing you. The visible disappointment made you even angrier. Because how did he dare? What even was this? You had no clue. Only that you were right about touches being forbidden from now on.

“As you wish,” the pleasantry was thrown in your face with a mocking intonation.

You wanted nothing but to slap him. Punch him, make him bleed and hurt like you were. But that would be unbecoming for someone like you. And so, you straightened your back, grabbed the mask, and fixed it over your mouth and nose without as much as a glance in his direction. Enough now.

“See you at the meeting tomorrow” throwing the goodbye over your shoulder you unzipped the airlock.

“Good night” was the last thing you heard upon the exit from the galley.

Jesus Christ. Finally, there was air to breathe.

*** That night you did not get much sleep either, tossing and turning on the narrow bed, unable to make your brain shut up. It was hard not to come up with all the possible what-ifs. Not to wonder what could have happened should Neil stayed silent, and you were to continue. To let yourself get lost in him like you used to. And all of those questions were only amplified by the fact that you chose to sleep in the stolen sweater. Why? You had no clue. Like many things, even your brain stopped making sense a long time ago. And so, when your phone alarm finally rang, you could only accept the fate and grudgingly get up. The dark circles were hard to hide. Or the way your shoulders sagged at the mere idea of facing everyone else. But there was no other way. You got dressed in the most practical outfit and left the cabin with the heart hammering in your chest. All the courage accepted. The mere idea of facing Neil made your stomach turn. That vouched for an amazing start indeed.

The official meeting was supposed to take place at 9:00 on the indoor bridge, and as far you knew the purpose was to officially brief you and the squad. You followed the half-remembered directions, by miracle arriving at the airlock leading to a lounge-like space with sofas, a table with ten chairs, and panoramic windows proving splendid view of the inverted waves and occasional seagulls. It seemed like you were the first one to arrive. Taking a longer look to stare at the horizon, you jumped up at the sound of a throat being cleared. Not alone then…

“Good morning” tall blonde woman stood up from her position on the sofa.

Kat. The drama of the previous night almost made you forget about her. But there is only so long you can run away from reality. The anxiety spike made you take a deep breath before you could respond.

“Hi,” frowning at the awkwardness of the tone, you flashed her an apologetic smile “Sorry to interrupt if you’ve-”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she waved a hand dismissively and settled back on the cushions “I’ve just been watching the birds really. Still can’t get used to them” the thoughtful look in her eyes made you smile.

She could not be older than Neil. Tall and slender, dressed in practical military clothes as everyone else, she seemed so different from the woman you saw in Tallinn, bleeding and on the verge of death. Now there was steely confidence to her, intangible yet present. Tentatively, you joined her on the sofa, never taking your eyes off the horizon.

“It takes a while. The first time I got inverted, I panicked the moment I saw a pigeon flying backwards” you did not know where the honesty came from.

Or why you shared the story. But the bewildered smile that split Kat’s face was a good enough reward.

“That sounds horrendous” she choked back a laugh, meeting your gaze with sparkling blue eyes.

“It was cooing too” you added with the conspiratorial whisper, awaiting a response, barely concealing a giggle that was rising in your throat.

“Good God” she grinned in your direction.

Maybe there was some goodness in the universe…

“Yeah, basically” returning the smile, you reached out a hand “Sorry we’ve never got introduced, I’m Y/N”

“Kat” she shook your palm, smiling sympathetically “It’s nice to meet you. Are you part of the squad?”

“Well, sort of… I don’t really know what’s my role is in all this” shrugging helplessly, you allowed more honesty to permeate the sentence “But I’m too involved to ask questions”

“I know the feeling well” you knew the quiet resignation in her gaze from the reflection in the mirror.

As you opened your mouth to ask a question, a zip on the airlock made you freeze. Peace was not an available commodity these days.

“Good morning ladies” Neil’s voice rung out in the room as he stepped into the view.

The fake cheeriness looked out of place on his sombre face. After a quick scan, you could tell that he too has not slept well. And that he was trying his hardest to appear alright when he was everything but. A tell-tale sign was the untied shoelace and uncombed hair sticking out in every direction. Details easily missed by everyone but you. There was nothing you could do with that information. It felt like another tiny but painful stab straight into your battered heart. You did wonder how many more could you handle.

“Did you get a good rest?” Kat’s innocent question brought you back to the moment.

“Not quite” Neil grimaced slightly as his eyes slipped over onto you for a fraction of a second.

That was enough to make Kat notice. You were sure of it. Your cheeks reddened on their own accord, and you returned Neil’s tight-lipped smile. A finishing touch to the act.

The awkward silence that followed was deafening. Neil sat by the table, tapping his foot unconsciously. Kat seemed perplexed, glancing at you both, trying to understand. You would not even know how to explain it if she asked. Suddenly, a text alert pierced the silence, making you jump up. The device buzzed in the pocket of your pullover. With a shaking hand, you retrieved the phone and glanced at the display. TP.

“Fuck” you let out a curse as your eyes flitted over the text.

Passwords. To what? Hell knows.

“What is it?” Neil stood up and was at your side in a second.

You looked up, straight into his eyes. Whatever happened did not matter now. You both understood that.

“I don’t know…” biting down on your lip, you scanned the room, settling on a computer lying on the table, “Give me that laptop. Please” you gestured towards the device, urging him to catch up.

He did. Using those long legs that you always admired, he crossed the room in no time and handed you the laptop. Your hands were trembling as you typed in the passcodes and entered the folder where files from TP always appeared. It certainly did not help that Neil has perched on the armrest of the sofa and was looking over your shoulder. Or that his hand landed on the nape of your neck as he adjusted in the strange position. You swallowed hard, focused on finding the newest folder. Surely enough it was there. Password protected. You typed in the combination of letters and numbers from the text message and held your breath as the system loaded. A second later, you were staring at several files that appeared on the screen. Double-clicking on the first pdf, you opened up a map of a location.

“Is that…” Neil’s whisper came from right over your ear.

Breath ghosting over your neck, making you shiver. But there were more important matters to attend to. Shaking off the feeling, your eyes scanned the map.

“Stalsk-12” you read out loud, “I think this is our destination. TP sent those so we know what to expect” looking at Neil again, you were struck by the proximity.

He nodded, holding your gaze intently. You could see that he was processing what you said and all the implications. What the unexpected files could mean for you. And what were the critical steps to be taken.

“What do you mean he sent those? He’s-” Kat’s confused question made you both snap out of it.

It was terrifyingly easy to forget people other than Neil existed. Another issue to add to your list.

“I’m sorry, I really can’t explain it” you gave Kat the most regretful of smiles and opened a different file.

This one was a list of tips in a way. A short letter with instructions, addressed to you alone. Aware of the tension pervading the room, you scanned it, catching onto the things he mentioned. A tunnel leading to the dead-drop. Hypocenter in the middle of the Soviet secret city. Inverted and normal mercenaries. It sounded like something taken out of an action film. But, supposedly, that was your reality now.

“Anything good?” Neil chimed in, unable to control the anticipation.

You glanced at him again, catching the way he was staring at you rather than at the screen. The way the early morning sun reflected off his profile was tragic. The hair shone like rays of sunlight. The long eyelashes framed his eyes, making the blue stand out even more. Fucking masterpiece. He met your gaze warily, and his brows furrowed even more. That was the cue to answer his question. And to stop staring.

“He’s saying that the most crucial bit will be the lock leading to the dead-drop,” you explained, highlighting the line in the doc “And is sending you his regards,” adding, you gave Neil a small smile.

They were there alright. A final line, telling you to make sure he stays sane and alive. Worrying remark, but you were afraid the boss miscalculated your influence upon the blonde bastard. Maybe he was wrong about some things? Just as the man in question opened his mouth again, someone else entered the bridge, accompanied by the sound of heavy boots and puffs of air from the oxygen masks.

“Who’s saying what?” TP’s question made you frown as the man himself stepped into the room.

Of course, he’d hear that. Now came the dilemma you never knew you would have to face – how to tell your boss you have received information from his future, dead self? And how to make him believe you?

“We’ve got intel. About where we’re heading,” you were saved from answering the question by Neil, who stood up and faced the boss “It’s Siberia, isn’t it?”

Judging by the palpable shock and irritation on TP’s face, it was, in fact, Siberia.

“Who told you that?” the offensive edge to his voice felt like a flashback to Tallinn and the turnstile.

You would rather avoid a repetition of that. Standing up, you took a deep breath. Before anyone else could break-in, you spoke up:

“A very reliable source” when TP’s gaze settled on you, you shrugged.

Quiet confidence, right? A passing shadow of suspicion was not the most encouraging of signs.

“Reliable to who?” his gaze flitted between you and Neil.

Only now you realised how close you were standing to him. Your elbows brushed as you tried to think of an answer. Anything to win the case.

“All of us” Neil’s simple response made you look up at him.

His gaze was fixed on TP with adamant resolve. You felt like this was not the same man who had let his friend pin him to the wall and interrogate him in the most brutal of fashions. The boss sighed and looked at you again.

“How did you get it?”

Right…

“… password protected files” the half-truth felt like the worst of lies.

“From whom?” he pressed, all of the intensity of the dark stare on you.

You could only offer him another shrug and a remorseful look on your face. The scowl you got in response was concerning. But you could not give in.

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the best piece of information we could get. We’ve got terrain plans and intel about the dead-drop. Maybe with this, we can make it work” taking a step forwards, you hoped he can see the desperation in your eyes, “All you have to do is trust me” the addition felt necessary, even if hard to be spoken out loud.

The frown on TP’s face deepened as he sighed heavily.

“Bloody hell…” he glanced at the blonde man again, “Neil, what are you thinking?”

Only now you could feel how fast your heart has been beating. Or that sometime within the last few minutes, you have started to tremble.

“I trust her. With my life” Neil delivered the admission with the most neutral of tones.

Fuck. The heartbeat stumbled and then kicked back into action at twice the speed. Unable to stop yourself, you turned around to face him. Sure enough, he met your gaze with certainty. As though that was obvious. Well, maybe to him…

“And the fate of the world too,” he added after a beat, clearly highlighting what mattered more.

Another thing that did not make sense. You made sure he could see the confusion in your eyes as you gave him a formal nod. It was a public setting after all, and you need not make a scene in front of Kat and TP. But at least you had support in your fight, and that was perhaps most important right now.

“This intel is all we’ve got. We might as well make use of it,” Neil summarized, taking that step closer to you again.

You both faced the boss, taking concerning amounts of confidence from simply being able to do it together. You could see the internal battle on TP’s face. Worry, uncertainty, suspicion, conflict, trust…? Finally, he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. When he looked at you again, you could tell that it was done. Only…

“If it backfires…” the unspoken hint of consequences if something went terribly wrong.

You just had to make sure it would not. Easy enough…right?

“If it does, then we’ll worry. For now, let’s get to work” Neil waved his hand dismissively, a rare genuine smile brightening up his face “The stage is yours,” tentatively, he placed his hand on your back, giving you a light push.

Permission to take over. Support and the inability to keep his hands off you. Enough to make you consider jumping off the afterdeck into the freezing depths of the Barents Sea. Because even that was better than approximately a week more of this. But the seals would have to wait. The blue eyes were fixed on you with a glimmer that seemed too affectionate for the state of the affairs. Let’s wipe it off with the best weapon available – the crushing weight of reality. You took a deep breath and began the explanation.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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the-volume-is-astronomical · 4 years ago

Text

The Crown, The Sword, and The Gay

The Tower

A/N: mi gente im just trying something out and seeing if people like it :] ive had this done for like months and months on end and i finally decided to share it so em enjoy

First | Previous| Next

words: 2380

summary: Roman’s stomach is making it very clear that this talk wasn’t going to end well... as long as he doesn’t end up in that tower.

pairings: eventual prinxiety, eventual intrulogical, eventual moceit

warnings: some potty language (not much), stress, anxiety, disappearance mention, flashback, crying

(let me know if theres any other)

Roman felt himself waking up, maybe because of the stupidly bright sun hitting his eyes, he didn’t know how that was possible since he remembered closing the red velvet curtains shut tight, so he didn't have this exact issue. So, when he heard some ruffling and things being moved around he wasn’t all that surprised.

¨Rise and shine, you little brat¨ Ruth said in a very tired but demanding voice.

¨Oh dear nurse, allow me five more minutes¨ Roman whined putting a pillow over his eyes so he could block out the rude sun.

¨Oh, flattery will get you nowhere, mister.¨ Roman could hear Ruth moving around the room, preparing breakfast no doubt. Roman took the pillow off his face and sat up, hair a wreck, and his eyes squinting because of the light coming from the window.

¨And he finally rises,¨ Ruth said sarcastically.

¨Yeah, yeah, the dashing prince has awoken.¨ Roman said half asleep. Ruth helped him sit down so he didn’t trip over anything and started serving him breakfast, she wasn’t going to wait for him to finish eating as she was already heading for the big oak doors.

¨Wait!¨ Roman sobered up, Ruth flinched a little at the shout but turned around anyway ¨Can I do anything for you?¨ She asked.

¨ Come eat with me, you for sure haven’t eaten anything today.¨ Ruth went to argue but closed her mouth when she noticed she, in fact, had not eaten.

She sat down in the chair in front of the royal, Roman made a few hand gestures as if to show she was open to take anything, she knew the monarch wouldn’t eat until she had settled for something so, she took a piece of bread and started eating, as did he.

After a few moments of silent eating Ruth spoke up ¨I still don't understand, after all these years you haven’t become a spoiled brat that doesn't care for his servant¨ Roman didn't even look up at her he just said ¨I guess you raised me well.¨ Ruth almost choked on her bread and looked at Roman as if he had gone insane. “Oh come on don't be so humble Ruthie!¨

She still looked at him confused and a little annoyed at the nickname but mostly surprised he would say anything of the sort, ¨Ruth, you are my nurse. You have been with me my entire life, You fed me when I was a baby for god sake! I consider you a mother, even if I have another mother in the throne room right now,” Roman shivered at the thought of having to talk to his parents after the events of the past week but continued anyway “and I sure as hell think of you as the person who raised me.¨

Once he had finished he immediately put a mouth full of food and kept eating as if hadn’t given that speech. Ruth still looked shocked but cleared her throat ¨Well, then I made you a sap!¨ Roman started laughing ¨How will your future spouse ever forgive me?¨ Roman burst out laughing and Ruth gave a small chuckle.

Ruth stood up and went to Roman's closet to gather his outfit for the day, while he finished breakfast. She threw the clothes at him “Hey!¨ Roman made his trademark over dramatic gasp. She sighed “I unfortunately also gave you my dramatics…”

“And I don’t resent you for that!” Roman screamed back with a big smile on his face.

Ruth looked like she had something on her mind. Roman didn’t have to wait much before she said what that was, he never did. ¨Would that make you and my Remy brothers?¨ she said, actively ignoring the prince’s comments. Roman stood up going towards his shoji screen to change behind. ¨Ha! We already consider each other brothers so it wouldn’t be much of a change.¨ Ruth started making his bed “Well this is new information to me.¨ Roman giggled a bit

¨Remy´s supposed to be back by noon, he passed a lot of territories to deliver this message so I sure hope he’s alright¨ Roman has always thought she was a worried mother even to him when he went on long trips.

Roman stepped out from behind the screen and reassured her ¨ He’s fine! He may act reckless but he's very calculating… but expect him a few hours later than what the estimated time of return” Roman slipped away looking for his shoes. ¨Oh and why is that?¨ she asked, hands on her hips, Roman gave a nervous chuckle.

Shouldn't have let that slip.

“Roman…” Ruth said in a warning tone. Remy was going to kill him but he didn’t want to die at his nurse’s hands “Remy’s been... seeing... this person a-and when his message trip aligns with where they live… he spends some time with the person so…” Ruth looked at him as if deciding something, “As Remy’s mother, I thank you for telling me the truth..” Roman was relieved “But, as your mother, I have to say…YOU SNITCH! Snitches get stitches for a reason!” Roman laughed genuinely and Ruth joined.

After their giggle fit, they heard someone knock on the door. Ruth went to answer the door, it was a guard “His and her highness request the prince’s presence,” Ruth thanked the guard and turned around and Roman looked mortified, “Roman, you have to talk to them.” Roman had never heard Ruth speak that soft. Roman only felt dread “Ruth I don't want to go” He was genuinely petrified.

“I understand, but they are very understanding and I believe they wouldn't punish you for simply trusting the wrong person” Roman shook his head “ They’re already so protective. They always had me under knight or guard surveillance but now they might do something so I won’t be able to sneak by” Roman was panicking and Ruth noticed, she walked up to him. And took his hand “Roman they just want the best for you…” Roman took his hand away from her own “No! They are just afraid they aren’t going to have an heir after one of them ran away.” Roman's hands were in his hair and his eyes started to glaze over.

Roman was very much not over his brother's apparent “disappearance”

“I understand Remus vanishing has affected your parents over protectiveness, BUT they have always aimed to protect you but after what happened...can you really blame them for it?” Roman sighed, Ruth forced his hands out of his hair, he took a shaky breath to calm down “No, but getting hurt is part of life! So what if I trusted the wrong person? Everyone does!” He gestured to the sky as if it was the only person listening, he felt so defeated.

“Well I can't change anything so, you should tell your parents that!” She didn’t know what to say to make things better. “I’ll try, let’s just hope they at least try to listen” he left it there and headed out of his bedroom’s oak doors, he never liked disagreeing with Ruth.

Roman walked down the long hallway towards the throne room but, of course, he wasn’t alone because that would be too much to ask apparently. Instead he was being escorted to see his parents by the guard that had informed him his parents required him. He already knew what they were going to talk to him about and he was dreading it.

Why did he have to make such a mistake?

Did the universe want him to not trust anyone after what happened?! If it would make the sinking feeling in his stomach leave then he would happily oblige.

The guard stopped at the throne rooms doors and Roman took a deep breath as the guard gave him side eye glance and opened the doors, “You required my presence?” Roman spoke trying to keep his voice steady and his head high, “Yes, Roman, we would actually like to talk to you about last week's event…?” He phrased it as a question a little too late. Roman’s father, King Leonardo, wasn’t an emotionally driven person and never was truly soft with anything he said, but he cared. The way he was soft spoken with Roman was just having the opposite effect that his father wanted.

Roman’s mother, Queen Victoria, was very comforting and always tried to shield her children from harm's way, but coming from a family of royals, she didn't have an example to follow but she wanted to be there for her child. “Roman, my little lion heart, I need you to keep in mind this is for your safety...ok?” Following everything by the book, always looking and being her best, so she would be a good example even if she wasn't nurturing, all she wished was for Roman to know she loved him and Remus with her whole being, Roman just gave her a tense nod as a response.

Roman’s Father spoke up, “Roman, you're going to be under knight supervision at all times,” That wasn't as bad as Roman expected, he basically already was! Anything but to be stuck in that damn tower “...And you have to stay in the south tower-” ...He should have knocked on wood.

“Father, I did nothing wrong! I shouldn't be punished for this-” Romans mother spoke up, she knew both her son and husband could be hot headed. She wanted to stop anything before it got the chance to begin “Roman this isn't to punish you! We want to protect you-” The Queen sounded like she was pleading with her son.

Roman did not hear her plea or just ignored it “...For how long do I have to stay there?” Roman’s mother spoke up, “Don't worry, you'll be there maximum 2-”

“Indefinitely.”

The King spoke in a cold unforgiving tone, Roman knew he had messed up big time. Victoria turned to her husband “Leo, we agreed he wouldn't be there for more than 2 fortnights, we agreed on that.” The Queen seemed upset but was obviously attempting not to show such emotion.

“Those were the rules we agreed to when he was a child and he would grant being punished” Both of Roman’s parents were staring at each other, showing they weren't going to back down.

Roman spoke, “Understood.” His voice was mostly monotone but tight, Victoria turned to him with an apologetic gaze. Roman shook his head. It was his own fault, his mother shouldn't blame herself for his actions.

“I'll tell Ruth, so we can pack.” Roman turned to leave but his father had more to say. “Before you go, Hugo won't be your assigned knight. One of the new recruits is climbing in status and popularity very quickly and he agreed to-” “babysit” Roman cut in. “-protect you. As long as I recommended him to Queen Marie for her armada”

As if things couldn't get any better, he had to meet this new recruit, he hoped they would at least get along. Roman just nodded and opened the door to leave. At that moment, Roman’s father called the guard that had escorted Roman to get the new recruit as soon as possible, he just left as quickly as he could.

His parents knew that not being around people and not being able to talk were some of the worse things that could happen to him. They decided it was going to be the way to punish him. Though, he never stayed for more than a month, now he understood why.

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

As Roman- basically power walked- back to his room, his brain tortured him with memories of his 7 year old self being forced onto the tower for the first time.

No! Please it was an accident-!

I won't do it again!

I won't- Please!

That was all he said as his father signaled the guards to take him, his mother not being able to look, turned her head away, trying to ignore every motherly instinct in her body to stand up and comfort her child.

The guards dragged him out of the castle- the only home he knew- and shoved him in a carriage, where Ruth was waiting for him. Ruth had always been happy around him but her expression was unreadable -looking back she seemed angry, he just hadn't seen her that way before- but, Roman didn't care. He threw himself onto Ruth and sobbed his tiny heart out, Ruth trying her best to calm him down, he eventually fell asleep. Three hours later, he was woken up by Ruth.

“Were here, principito”

Roman was scared. Ruth saw it in his eyes.

“Come on! You offend me, you really think I would let them take you to a scary place?”

The little royal could only muster a small “no”. Ruth took his hand and walked with him toward a tower. Roman thought it was beautiful, that's the day he figured beautiful things can hurt you.

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

Roman never got used to it. He always dreaded the ride there, all the build up to the feeling of nothingness. When he looked up at the tower, he got the same feeling that he did when he was 7, Roman learned to not look up. He’d always prefer being in the tower when he was a kid because, back then they allowed Ruth to stay behind with him. Now she would only go in the carriage with him and leave.

After they stopped allowing Ruth to stay with him, at least he had Hugo to bother, by asking him for stories of his adventures. He didn't have that anymore.

The only adventure story he had now was a vibrant red book, in the book shelf of the tower, the only fictional book in his whole collection. He will admit, it was a very smart move on his parent’s part. They always monitored what he read, filled his whole book shelf in the tower with Philosophy, Math, and Royalty etiquette. When he begged for weeks on end for an adventure book they granted him one but, they made sure it was the only book that was fictional. They wouldn't give him an adventure book based on real events, No! That would be giving Roman too much hope.

Good move.

#roman sanders #roman angst #sanders sides roman #ts roman #prinxiety #ts prinxiety #future prinxiety #sanders sides #ts princey

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suwya · 4 years ago

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Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 6

Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

Rating: M

Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3

A/N: Sorry for the waiting, but real life came along and I had to stop writing for a couple of weeks. Thank you @thisonesatellite for being the best beta reader I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this. Happy Labour Day!

Chapter 6 . .

Be not inhospitable to strangers,

lest they be angels in disguise.

(W. B. Yeats)

When Killian regained consciousness he found himself in what reminded him of a military hospital. There were thin white curtains around his bed, but through them he could spot other beds like his, most of them empty. The room seemed large and dimly lit.

He closed his eyes and remembered the crash landing, the unknown desert planet, the great rock that was about to crush Henry, and that feeling of unease and imminent danger he had felt just before the impact. Where was he? And above all what kind of situation was he in, a good or a bad one? He opened his eyes again, and noticed he wasn’t alone. A woman was checking his IV, and a nearby monitor was beeping intermittently.

Killian tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain in his lungs made him desist immediately. He groaned loudly.

“Look who’s awake.” Said the woman, who was now staring at him. “Hello, handsome.” She added cheerfully.

Killian had found himself dealing with uncharted waters several times in his life. He decided to play the waiting game. “This is usually my line, well, more or less.”

“Really? In this case, I'll warn my husband not to approach you.”

“Don’t worry I'm not into men, not recently at least.” He smirked.

“Oh, but my husband is quite the charming one.”

“I still prefer the company of a fair lady, if I could choose.” He winked and chuckled, and a dull pain made him gasp.

“Take it easy.” She immediately shifted her attitude from playful to worried. “How do you feel?”

“As if I've been hit by a rocket.”

“Not a rocket, but yes, you’ve been hit hard. You’ve suffered two broken ribs. And believe me, you were lucky, it could have been worse. Do you mind if I run some tests and see how you react?”

“No problem.”

While the woman was busy measuring his temperature, making him follow a small blue LED light with his gaze, and extracting some blood to examine later, he took advantage of the opportunity to observe her more closely. She had short black hair and green eyes, bright and lively in contrast to her very delicate skin. Killian found himself thinking of another pair of green eyes, which had been filling his thoughts frequently lately. The memory brought him back to reality quickly.

“What is this place?” He inquired, eager to know what had happened while he was unconscious.

“Welcome to Vernal-Den.” She answered smiling.

Killian tried to remember if he had ever read about this planet. “Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, we’re not very popular.”

Was she too concentrated on checking-in his vitals, or was she being too concise on purpose? He didn’t know, but he intended to keep an eye on her. “How long was I out?”

“A while.” Another elusive answer.

He decided to test the waters. “Were there ….other injured people with me?”

“If you’re referring to Henry and Emma, they are perfectly fine.” She seemed sincere. “They are staying at our place. Henry has visited you every day since you came in.”

“And Emma?”

“Well, she can’t come in. She’s not a relative of yours. But she has spent long hours sitting just outside that door.” She said pointing towards the exit. “I had to order her to go home and get some rest.”

After that she excused herself, saying that she had to attend to other patients.

He realized she hadn’t even told him her name. He didn’t know if he could trust her or not. The fact that she had avoided some of his questions sent chills down his spine. And most of all there was the Emma problem.

Why couldn’t she visit him? Was it true that it was only a matter of rules? Or was she in some kind of peril? He needed to know what was happening behind those doors that separated him from the woman that had been pestering his dreams in the last ten years of his life. He had to know that she was alright. To hell with rules! He thought. And by the way, when was the last time he followed one. He had to get out of this place. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his lungs was so strong that his vision started to blur and cold sweat formed on his temples. He lay back down on the bed, aware that in his conditions he couldn’t have gone far before collapsing unconscious on the floor. He promised himself to solve the problem as soon as he had enough strengths, but he couldn't dwell too much on that thought, because sleep was reclaiming his mind again.

~·~·~·~

Time passed very slowly, or so it seemed, but maybe it was simply the fact that every day looked the same. Killian was mostly asleep, probably due to the painkillers introduced through the IV, and when he woke up he couldn't tell how long he had been out, he couldn't even tell if it was day or night. There were no windows in that room.

During one of the moments when his mind regained consciousness, he felt the mattress drop slightly to one side and he slowly opened his eyes.

“You are awake! How do you feel? Can you breathe? Of course you can, you would be dead otherwise! Does it hurt?” Henry was sitting at the end of the bed, and he was asking a lot of questions, as usual. “Sorry.” He suddenly looked contrite. “I should let you rest, but…”

“It’s ok, lad.” Killian cut him off. “I’m glad to see you’re all in one piece.”

The boy greeted him with a wide grin.

Killian remembered the last moments before getting injured, and he was relieved to know that he had been able to prevent that rock from hitting Henry. But other worries crowded his mind. “How about your mom?”

“She’s fine. She’s outside. They won’t let her in. You know, only relatives and all that stuff.” He explained.

“I see. And why are you…?”

Henry didn’t let him finish the question. “I told them I’m your son.” He whispered with a conspiratory smile.

“Clever boy.” Killian’s chuckle turned soon into a cough due to the pain.

“Does it hurt?” The boy asked, frowning.

The man dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “It’s not a big deal.” He didn’t want the lad to feel responsible for his well-being. “How many days have passed since we landed here?” He asked, changing the subject.

“I don't know exactly.” And at Killian’s questioning look, he added, “It’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“People live underground here,” The boy started to explain, “With no opportunity to look outside. And there are no clocks. My watch had probably broken when we arrived, it doesn’t work anymore.”

The man hummed, he was starting to understand. The lack of windows, the elusive answer he had received from the dark-haired nurse… everything was beginning to tally in Killian’s head. “I want you to think carefully about everything you saw outside this room. Did you feel something was wrong?”

The boy shrugged. “I don't know.” He seemed to ponder. “This place is strange. Lots of corridors and passages underground. We are not allowed to go out into the open. They say it’s dangerous. But I never felt a threat or something. I would rather say it’s boring.”

“Why boring?”

Henry was trying to find the right words to explain it. “All the days are the same, people repeat the same actions every day. They say it’s useful to maintain a routine. But I don’t think Mary Margaret and David are bad people.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Killian asked.

“Oh, yeah, Mary Margaret, she is your nurse. We’re staying at her home. She is very nice. And David is her husband. He showed me the greenhouse. It’s awesome and huge, you should see it! But I don’t think he works there. I don’t know what his job is.”

Routine? New people? A greenhouse? Well, that was a lot of information to process. But Killian felt sleep calling him back. Next time I see that lady Margaret, I’m going to ask her not to put more painkillers in my IV. He thought. “Thank you, Henry, for everything. But I may need to rest for a while now.” He managed to say before falling asleep again.

~·~·~·~

Emma knew Killian was feeling better, Henry had told her about their short chat, and some of her child's enthusiasm had even infected her positively, but she continued to feel restless, she wanted to make herself useful. Most of all, she wanted to see Killian again.

All this absurd situation was her fault. And no, she was not thinking about the fact that Killian was lying on a hospital bed because of some bad decisions she had made lately. No. She was not going down that path again. She had already spent a lot of hours regretting many choices done in the last month.

But this was nonsensical, why couldn’t she visit a friend that was hurt and maybe in need of some company? She had actually had a chance to say that she was his wife; after all in the eyes of her guests, she and Killian had a son together, so why not lie a bit more and make Mary Margaret believe that she and Killian were married. But the thought of a possible long time spent together on this planet feigning to be a happily married couple scared her, and she couldn’t go on with the lie.

So there she was, sitting on a very uncomfortable metal chair in the waiting room. She had spent more hours there than she could count.

David had passed by to greet his wife, and he had offered to take Henry with him, on the way back home. So she was left alone with her thoughts.

Mary Margaret peeked out the door with a steaming mug in her hand. “Take this. It will help.”

She agreed with a nod. “Thank you.” She sipped some of the hot liquid and it felt like her nerves were starting to relax a little.

“You should go home and rest. It's late.” The woman said.

“Mary Margaret let me enter.” Emma pleaded for the umpteenth time.

“We have already talked about it. You know I can’t do that. There are strict rules down here, and the best way for us to survive is to follow them.”

“This is insane. I’m not a dangerous criminal or someone who is plotting to destroy this planet. I just want to see him. Please.” She begged.

The dark-haired woman seemed to be pondering all the possible consequences. “All right.” She sighed. “Let’s just say that I’m going inside and leave the door ajar, by mistake, of course. I have to check some very important documents, so I’ll be busy and concentrated. I’m not going to ask you what you’re going to do in the next... fifteen minutes or so. Okay?”

“Thank you.” Emma handed her the cup back, rising from her chair. “You won’t regret it.”

After Mary Margaret disappeared behind the door, Emma waited some minutes before going after her. The room was large and there were many beds, she had no idea where Killian was, but after a quick look at the surroundings, she discovered that only a couple of all the beds were occupied.

She approached one of those and gently opened the curtain trying not to disturb the patient lying inside.

Killian seemed asleep. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. She could only imagine the pain he was going through. She had her heart in her throat because she felt responsible for the situation. If they hadn't taken a detour because she had requested it, they'd probably all be home safe and sound by now.

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted her with a painful grin.

Immersed as she was in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that he had woken up. She smiled, trying to be strong and not show her inner turmoil. “Do they treat you well here?”

“I'm not complaining. The nurse is kind and the food is edible.” He tried to downplay the situation. “Although I would prefer the care and attention of a certain blonde.” He winked.

Emma chuckled. Then she went closer to him and sat down on the side of his bed, trying not to cause him any more pain. She looked him straight in the eye, and then, gently, she took his hand in hers, intertwining her fingers with his. She saw him swallow hard, and the beeping of his heartbeat accelerated on the monitor. She smiled softly again. “Thank you for saving my son’s life.”

She saw how he wet his lips before answering as if his mouth had been suddenly dry. “It was the right thing to do.” Was his answer, but his voice came out slightly choked.

Emma looked back, checking if any hospital employee was nearby, “I shouldn’t be here, and unfortunately my time is running out. But I wanted to see you... needed to see with my own eyes that you are ok... well, more or less.” She whispered, with her gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact. The physical connection of their joined hands was already arousing too many contradictory emotions inside her.

“Aye. I know the feeling.” He replied, letting her know that he had been eager to establish contact with her throughout his stay in the hospital.

At those words, she stared at him again. “Get well soon.” She bent down and dropped a mild kiss at the corner of his lips. “We need you.”

~·~·~·~

Killian was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. This time there was no way he would fall asleep again. Every time he thought about what had just happened his beeping monitor sped up. He blushed. It had been just a chaste kiss, nothing compared to the hot and breathtaking one they had shared a few days before. But she had said it had been a one-time thing and he had promised himself not to indulge in those lustful thoughts anymore. Yet, this last kiss had seemed much more real, and meaningful... it had left him with a feeling of hope.

Hope and distress. Emma was such a strong and beautiful woman, a marvelous creature, as he liked to describe her in his mind, and a princess even. And what was he? A rebel, and a scoundrel. Or a rapscallion... whatever. Okay, maybe not anymore, but he had been in the past, for many years. He had been trying to redeem himself lately. But was he worth enough of her? That was the million dollar question.

He was still ruminating on it when the known brunette peeked out the curtains. “Hello. How are you today?” She greeted him with a bright smile, as usual.

“Better.” He hoped the monitor on his right wasn’t showing his state of mind.

She came closer. “Do you mind if I check your ribs? It's time to change the dressing.” After a short pause, she added, “I'm sorry, but we don't have the best equipment to assist our patients. We have to work with what we have available on this planet.” She said pointing to the bands that covered his chest.

Killian nodded, and Mary Margaret started to untie the bandages. She seemed concentrated on her task, probably she was trying to avoid causing him any pain. It was only when she started to apply an ointment on the bruises, that she spoke again. “You love her.” It was just a whisper, and Killian doubted if he had heard correctly. But then she added “Emma.”

It wasn’t a question, and he pondered what was the correct answer, or if she was expecting one. “I'd go to the end of the world for her… Or the multiverse.” He said eventually.

“And she for you, I take it?”

Killian chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“What’s the problem?” She looked at him surprised. Then took some clean gauzes and started to wrap them on him.

“She's bloody brilliant, an amazing woman. She fights for her son and always does what’s right.” Killian’s voice was so full of admiration.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Mary Margaret inquired.

Killian shook his head again. “She raised the bar very high. The fact is, I don't think I measure up.”

The woman folded the old bandages and took the ointment bottle, then she stood up, she was making an exit when she stopped short. “Since you came here I've been watching you.”

“I don't know if I should be flattered or scared.” The man tried to ease the tension of the moment.

“We don’t have many foreigners on this planet, but believe me, you're not one of the bad guys. You sacrificed yourself for the sake of a young boy. There's good in your heart.” She smiled at him softly. “I’m going to look for the doctor; I bet you’ll be leaving this room soon.”

~·~·~·~

The following day started the same as the previous ones. But during the first hours of the evening a man in a white coat came to visit Killian. He explained the medications and precautions to be taken to him, some movements that he should avoid for a while, and other tips for a speedy recovery. Then he handed over some papers for the patient to sign to be discharged. Finally some good news.

After a while redressing and packing up his few belongings in his satchel Killian went to the door. Walking hurt a bit but nothing he couldn’t bear.

Mary Margaret was already waiting for him, and a tall blonde guy was with her. “You must be Jones.” He said. When they shook hands, Killian learned his name was David Nolan, and he remembered Henry had mentioned him in his conversations. “I’m going to take you to our humble abode.”

Nolan's house was in fact modest. A loft with a large dining room, a kitchenette, a bedroom, and a small bathroom on one corner, all open, without doors, except for the bathroom. There was a raised bedroom opposite it, whose access was a metal stair.

Dinner was good, if a little awkward. Emma didn't interact much, and Killian wanted to ask if something was troubling her, but he preferred to wait for a better time, perhaps a less crowded one. Henry entertained them with what he had done throughout the day and kept repeating how glad he was that Killian was back with them.

But the man was still a bit cautious with those new people around him. He didn’t know them, especially the Nolan guy, who had been silent for most of the dinner, glancing sidelong at him as if he wanted to study him thoroughly before making a personal judgment. The feeling was mutual, Killian thought.

Just after dessert, David started to speak. “What will you need to restore your ship?” He asked.

“Uh… a new stabilizer, I think, and some parts of the propulsion engine for sure. But I’ll have to look closely at the damages to be sure there’s nothing else broken.”

The blond man nodded. “Not many ships come and go from here. But I hope we can find all the pieces you need.”

“Thank you, mate.”

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to the hangar where your ship is. We’ll have a look at it.” He seemed sincere in his generosity.

“May I help?” Henry barged in.

A chorus of “No!” echoed the room.

“I appreciate the support, but it could be dangerous.” Killian explained.

“I hate being here. I feel trapped.” The boy complained.

Mary Margaret sighed. “This is a feeling that will vanish with time.”

The woman was no doubt trying to instill some optimism, but Killian didn't like the idea of staying in that place longer than necessary. “Well, then, let’s hope we could leave this planet before the feeling has entirely vanished.” He made a grin and passed his hand on his side.

“Time for resting.” The brunette stated although it sounded more like an order. “But before that, we should change those bandages. Emma, would you like to help me?”

“Me?” Emma, who had been silent and a bit on the sidelines all evening, seemed to re-emerge from wherever she’d gone.

“He won’t be able to do it by himself when you won’t live here anymore. It’s better if you learn how to help him.” Mary Margaret clarified.

Emma looked like she was going to object, but in the end, she asserted. “Sure.”

~·~·~·~

If a certain nervousness had taken hold of Emma as she climbed to the upstairs room, it disappeared the instant Mary Margaret helped Killian get rid of his shirt. That wasn’t a thorax, it was a nautical chart. Most of it was covered by gauze, but she could still spot many marks and scars.

There was a tattoo, two of them to be exact, but Emma saw just one at first. It was on his right forearm; it was a big red heart with a dagger running through and the name “Milah” across it. Emma made a mental note to ask him later who she was.

Mary Margaret showed her how to unfasten the bandages, and then she ordered her to stand behind him, to help better in removing them all.

On his back, Emma saw the second tattoo, on his right shoulder. It was an old nautical instrument she had read about in a book when she was younger, but she couldn’t remember the exact name. The drawing was beautifully detailed, even if it had faded, it was probably older than the other one, she thought.

And when all the gauze was out of the way, she saw them: tiny, blurred, old scars that studded most of his back. Emma wondered what kind of life he had to endure when he was very young.

Mary Margaret asked her to help with the ointment. She had already opened the bottle and was showing the blonde woman how much cream to use. But Emma wasn't listening, standing now in front of the man, her attention was caught by the glorious chest hair that was covering most of his torso.

Okay, there was also a big, horrible bruise on his right ribs, but Mary Margaret was saying that it seemed on the way to a fast recovery, if the yellow and purple veining was some indication.

Emma was ogling and she wasn’t ashamed of it either. The amount of hair decreased in the lower part of his chest, leaving a black trail that disappeared under the hem of his pants.

"See something you like?" Emma was abruptly taken back to reality by a smug Killian that was smirking at her while arching an eyebrow. She blushed. She was caught red-handed, but she couldn’t let him win. She took advantage of the fact that Mary Margaret was looking for something in a nearby drawer, to get closer to him. She looked at him lasciviously from under her lashes. “Maybe?” She purred.

Now it was his time to blush, he looked intently at his feet, but she found the bright red that appeared on his ears extremely endearing. Point for Emma.

Mary Margaret taught the other woman how to fix the bandages, and Emma had to use some tiny hooks to hold them together. She did not miss the opportunity to casually slide her fingers over a part of his chest hair that came out of the bandages.

“Bloody Hell!” Killian muttered.

Emma retreated her hand immediately. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” Worries that she had done something wrong clouded her gaze.

“Apologies.” Killian was scratching behind his ear, in evident embarrassment. “While I do enjoy two lovely ladies attending to my needs, I'm not used to someone taking care of me…” He smiled and brought his mouth close to Emma’s ear: “I’m usually the one who devotes full attention to a woman’s needs.” He whispered, but clearly not as quietly as he would have liked, because Mary Margaret's answer - “Well, you will have to put that off for a while” - made him blush again like a schoolboy scolded by his teacher.

~·~·~·~

Suddenly it was bedtime. Everyone was busy making preparations and taking shifts for the bathroom to change for the night. Killian was upstairs, staring at the bed he knew he had to share with Emma, who was arranging a pillow on the nearby sofa. He passed a hand through his hair and then scratched a spot behind his right ear. “I'll crash on that couch.” He stated as if it was the most logical conclusion to a battle he was fighting inside.

“Don't be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “It's barely long enough for Henry. Plus, you’re still recovering, you absolutely need to rest.”

He didn't seem very convinced. “Emma, I'm not sure this is a good idea.”

“And why is that?” Was her exasperated reply, turning towards him with her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do? Seduce me with a couple of broken ribs and a ten-year-old boy sleeping next to us?”

He lifted his arms and surrendered. “Fair point.” He conceded.

In no time they were all ready for the night and Henry was snoring softly on the sofa. Killian was supine, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the events of the day. In any case, sleep had no intention of coming, but he tried not to move. He didn’t want to wake up his roommates. Emma was lying close with her back to him and he didn’t know if she was already in the arms of Morpheus.

He turned his head to observe how her upper body moved with the rhythm of her breathing, blond curls covering her shoulders. Killian had to repress the urge to touch them. And as if responding to his call, she stirred and turned to face him.

Her eyes opened lazily. “Still awake?” She murmured.

“I have the feeling that I’ve slept enough for the rest of my life.” He whispered. “But you can’t rest either, I see.”

She didn’t answer.

Perhaps it was the closeness, perhaps it was the fact that they had spent the last few days apart. Killian didn't know how he found the courage, but he lifted his left arm as an invitation. “Come here,” he said.

She seemed to ponder the situation, chewing her bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He decided not to think about all the possible implications of that sentence. He was falling in love with her, he was aware of it. Probably the simple doubt that she might not reciprocate was already hurting him, but he knew that at that moment she was referring only to his physical bruises. “You won’t.”

She slipped under the sheets towards him, resting her head gently on his left shoulder and placing a hand on his chest, avoiding the bruised part. Not many minutes passed before her lids grew heavy and she dozed off to the rhythm of his heartbeats. Killian placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

#cs ff #cs au #Till the Stars Had Run Away #alternative universe #science fiction #space au #my writing

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missmonsters2 · 5 years ago

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About You || Part IX

Gif by: giuliacommissions (please check her out if you’d like to commission her for gifs and other work 💞)

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wanda had never known loss like she has until she lost Pietro. It’s debilitating. She can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even leave her house. Life is fading fast, and she’s not sure if she even wants to hang on. Enter you, a stranger that reconnects her to the daily things that makes life beautiful.

Warnings: Deals with loss & grief and the spectrum of emotions and depression that comes with it. Please note there is no glorification in any of this. Loss, grief, and depression are nothing beautiful. Also, please don’t hesitate or reach out for help if you are in a dark place. Love you, lovelies 💘

Genre: Angst & Romance

NOTE: One more chapter after this. YES I KNOW I’M LATE IN POSTING AHH.

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI || PART VII || PART VIII

PART IX of X

Count: 2562

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Moving into the new place is a whirlwind with you.

You let her paint all over the walls for decorations, and Wanda's never had so much fun picking a couch before.

Wanda is currently flushing red as Natasha is over, and she had caught the two of you amorously loving each other.

You had to go to work, so Wanda was left to face the embarrassment alone.

"You certainly have a lot of energy," Natasha comments, and Wanda drops her paintbrush.

"I can't help it," Wanda mumbles.

"Oh, it's fine. At least you're doing it in the name of love. Loudly, but for love."

"You could hear us?"

"We can hear you every time," Natasha deadpans.

"We?" Wanda emphasizes.

"My only advice is that you pick better times to do it if you can. Clint had to wait outside for an hour and a half last time he came over."

Wanda flushes, her ears a hot red while she tries to resume painting.

She can't help it if she wants to have you when she does.

"So, was Clint right?"

"About?" Wanda mumbles.

Natasha stares at her friend and frowns.

"That she's the top?"

Wanda slams her paintbrush down.

"No one is allowed to be friends with Clint anymore."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You were weird on the phone today.

A little skittish in Wanda's opinion. You said you wanted to take her somewhere after work.

She couldn't help but worry that maybe you were regretting everything, but then you showed up at home at 7 PM with flowers in your hands.

"Would you go somewhere with me? I have something to tell you."

A look of worry passed over Wanda's face, but she nodded as she grabbed her jacket.

The ride was quiet. You were tense as your hand would grip the steering wheel before relaxing, the cycle repeating.

"Where are we going?" Wanda asked.

"I wanted to show you the person who made sure I wasn't alone," you tell her.

Wanda is surprised because she wasn't aware that your friend was in the same town. She thought they were out of your life, as you had indicated.

But then, when you pull up into the cemetery, Wanda's heart dropped.

"Why didn't you say so?" Wanda looks at you, heartbreaking at the sad smile on your face.

"It doesn't change that people do come and go."

Wanda doesn't say anything and lets you lead her. She feels a little on the edge because she knows this cemetery too well by now, and the route is familiar.

The two of you come to a stop, and Wanda looks at the gravestone she's seen many times before. She used to spend hours every day sitting here.

You put flowers down before standing up and looking at Wanda with wet eyes.

"I have something to give you," you quietly say, your hand fishing in your bag before you pull something out and put in Wanda's hands.

Her yearbook.

Wanda looks back at the gravestone, the words searing on her eyes.

Pietro Maximoff.

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Flashback...

You were in a bit of tizzy. You and your business partner just recently bought the space to open your own psychology clinic.

You had just hired a marketing firm to help you with your advertising for your grand opening. He would be arriving in a couple of minutes with his advertisement plan.

"Hello?"

You shoot up from your office, putting down the boxes as you rush to the front.

"Hello!" You say breathlessly, feeling a little shame at what a mess you look like.

The guy standing there looked equally of a mess with his blond hair with dark roots in an array. He looked a little breathless, and you guessed he was running late.

The two of you stand there, looking at each other before the two of you start laughing.

"I'm Pietro, your marketing manager."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Pietro, the job had been done weeks ago. Why do you keep coming here?" You quirk your brow.

You and Pietro had hit it off quite well, getting to know each other as he helped you with advertising your clinic and services.

But it was professional. Except Pietro had kept coming even after everything was finished.

Monday it was coffee, Tuesday was lunch, Wednesday was dropping off a coffee and a bagel, and now it was Thursday, and he had come on his lunchtime again.

"I just wanted to see if you wanted to go for dinner," he smiles.

You stand there, brow still quirked as you assessed him.

"Alright."

"Cool, how about 8 PM?"

You nod, and Pietro smiles and runs out the building again.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Dinner is a pleasant affair.

He is flirty but respectful. He holds doors and chairs open for you but doesn't make a move to grab your hand or try to get closer.

Pietro is talking about his plans to see his sister next weekend when you interrupt him.

"Do you keep coming by my office because you're interested in me?"

It's blunt, but you rather be straight forward about it.

Pietro stops his story, mouth still open before closes it sheepishly.

"No," he admits, "I actually wanted to set you up with my sister."

"Pass," you say immediately.

"What!" Pietro says. "C'mon, you guys would be a perfect match."

"Not interested in dating," you tell him as you eat your food, more relaxed that it's not a date.

Pietro groans and you laugh a bit before he starts eating again.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Even after your blunt rejection, Pietro still comes by the office to pester you into getting lunch.

He lectures you that you can't skip it even if you're busy and lists all the things that could happen to you if you don't eat.

"Cancer? Really?" You say to him.

"Everything causes cancer," he tells you seriously.

"Wouldn't that mean that even eating can cause cancer?" You argue back at him.

"Exactly," he says seriously, "If we're all going to get cancer regardless, you should eat and have a full stomach at least."

You laugh, a weird familial warmth filling the pit of your stomach.

"You seriously haven't changed," you tell him.

"What do you mean?" He asks you.

You roll your eyes, but you don't expect him to remember.

"Pietro Maximoff, track and field captain, while also the student council president. The guy everyone wants to be friends with."

Pietro's mouth dropped.

"We went to the same university?" He says excitedly. "You do know my sister too then!"

"Yeah, she's really nice," you say while you look down at the ground with your hands shoved in your pocket.

"Nice?" Pietro snorts. "No one ever says that about her."

You chuckle.

"She beats up bullies, so she's automatically nice even if she seems like the equivalent to a cactus."

"So, you're saying you will go on a date with her!" Pietro says excitedly.

"Are you deaf? Nowhere in what I said says I'll go on a date with her."

"But you just said she's nice!" Pietro whines.

"I also said she's the equivalent to a cactus."

"Wanda's really wonderful, trust me."

You merely hum.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It's a little weird, you admit. Having someone like Pietro who goes out of his way to spend time with you.

People ask all the time if you're dating, but Pietro always laughs it off and says that you're like family to each other.

"I'm her big brother!"

"You're only two months older," you would always say in response.

"God, you're like Wanda. Older is older," Pietro would joke.

He talks about Wanda a lot. You can tell he clearly adores her. You're not sure you really understand sibling bonds because of your own brother.

But Pietro talks as if he would move mountains for her, and talks like Wanda wouldn't hesitate to take a bullet for him.

"Is that piece of shit calling you again?"

You look away from your phone screen to Pietro's scowling face.

He knows everything about you.

He knows that your brother has been trying to get back in touch with you.

"Yeah," you sigh as you put your phone down and sit back in your chair. You have 30 minutes to relax before your next patient comes.

Your brother had seen you in an online advertisement and has been calling your workplace. You picked up the phone one, talked to him briefly before he started saying how he needed cash.

You haven't picked up the phone since.

"You should just let me pick up the phone and tell him to fuck off," Pietro glares at the offending phone.

"You have a lot of free time," you say to him in response.

"I'm a director now, hell yeah, I have lots of time," Pietro laughs.

The two of you banter some more when the receptionist tells you your appointment is here.

Pietro smiles at you before he walks out of the office with you following him.

Except, at the front desk, you see your brother standing there.

"What the hell," you mutter under your breath.

"What are you doing here?" You say to him.

"Miss, that's your appointment," the receptionist tells you.

"My appointment is supposed to be with a Leon--" You groan because he used a fake name to book the appointment.

"You need to get the hell out of here, Jake," you glare at him.

"I just need 5 minutes to talk, don't you want to talk after all this time?" Jake frowns at you.

You want to make a scene, but this is your workplace, so you drag Jake into your office with Pietro right on your heels.

"No, I don't want to talk or catch up. Why would I want to catch up with someone who left me at an orphanage?" You hiss at him.

"I was 18!" Jake defends himself. "I couldn't even take care of myself, let alone you. I left you for the best."

You scoff at the response.

"And what? You want to catch up now? Or is this about the cash you said you needed."

Jake is quiet.

"I just need a loan," he says instead.

There's a scoff in the background.

The two of you look over to see Pietro there looking at Jake in disgust.

"What's your problem?" Jake glares at him. "Get out of here, this is family business."

"I am family," Pietro says in return.

"With family like me, she doesn't need your ass around here," Pietro pulls out his checkbook from the inner chest pocket of his suit jacket.

"Take this, and get the fuck out of here. If you ever come back around here without her wanting you around, I'll sue you," Pietro threatens, ripping out a cheque and shoving it into Jake's hand.

You catch the numbers as your eyes widen.

It was $10,000.

Jake's eyes are wide too, but he looks at Pietro once more before looking at you.

"Deal," Jake says and leaves.

"Fucking dick," Pietro mutters as Jake leaves the building.

"What the hell, Pietro!" You yell at him.

"Why did you give him $10,000?"

"Because jerks like that will keep coming around until they get what they want. Or until their legs are broken, but I don't know anyone who can do that for me. Yet."

You stare at him in disbelief, but he just laughs and pulls you in for a hug.

"$10,000 is nothing to make sure my little sister isn't hurt."

You denied it when Pietro asked you later if you were crying.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"You should show up here. At 7 PM."

You look at Pietro.

"Are you trying to set me up with your sister again?"

"No. Yes. Maybe," Pietro answers.

"Give it up, man," you shake your head at him.

He talks about Wanda all the time. You admit you're a little intrigued by her. But only because Pietro spins her in such a wonderful light, even when he tells you stories of when she's being an asshole.

"My sister is going to die alone with a cat, have some sympathy, and meet her. I guarantee you'll want to lock her down. I'm convinced she's your soulmate," Pietro determinedly keeps going.

"Why are you convinced of that?" You quirk your brow.

"Because she's prickly, you're super nice and patient, and I can't explain it anymore, just meet her!" Pietro whines.

You laugh.

"Well, I'll actually be traveling to Europe next month for a volunteer experience there for some less fortunate kids who need counseling. But, I'm not opposed to meeting her when I'm back. No guarantees, though, and on one condition."

"What's that?" He asks you excitedly.

"I want her yearbook, and when I meet her, I'll give it back," you tell him.

"Why do you want her yearbook?" He asked confusedly.

"I never got to write in it," you tell him.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"That was the last time I got to see him. He died while I was in Europe."

Wanda knows because she was in the car accident too.

She opens her yearbook and sees an added message on the back, the only other writing in it other than Pietro's.

Wanda,

You may not recognize me, but I wanted to say thank you, for all those years ago, for sticking up for me and getting my things back.

Sincerely,

The girl you saved.

There was a picture there, and Wanda flipped it over. She sees a picture of you back in university, with a familiar dirty backpack.

"When I saw you at the bridge...I just couldn't let you die. You were someone Pietro loved so much. I--"

"Did you blame me?"

Wanda saw a flash of guilt through your eyes.

"I did at first. I hated you at first. You were his family. He loved you so much, he loved me like family, and now he's gone."

Small things over the past few months pass through Wanda's head. Like how you talked as if you new Pietro, trying to get her to not blame herself.

She listened to the words, a dull ache in her chest because the truth felt like you had blamed her too, and she deserved it.

"But...Pietro was right. I met you, got to know you, and everything Pietro told me about you was right. I couldn't blame him for trying to set me up with you."

What a small word, Wanda thought.

And you were begging.

"Please don't hate me."

But Wanda merely closed the yearbook and opened her arms so you could dive into her comfort.

Because even though you had blamed her, hated her at first, you still saved Wanda. You still stuck around, cleaned her mess up, loved her even when she was awful to you.

You took in all her imperfections, loved her, and let her love you.

"You are my soulmate," you confess her to, lips quivering.

"Pietro always had a way of taking care of his family. I asked him at the funeral for help, and he gave me you," Wanda whispered.

Your tears stopped at Wanda's calming words. She pulled back, cupping your face as her thumb wiped your tears.

"I love you," she insists. "I'm never letting this hand go."

She holds up your hand, pressing her lips to the painted red string around your wrist.

"I was lost, but you found me. I'm never letting you go."

PART X

#mm: my fics #series: about you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x OFC #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #Wanda Maximoff Imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #avengers au #avengers imagine #avengers reader insert #Marvel reader insert #Modern Avengers AU

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surveysonfleek · 3 years ago

Text

1581.

Have you ever been to Las Vegas? yes, i have! its one of my favourite cities

What did you have for breakfast this morning? i had scrambled eggs and hash browns

Do you have any loose change in your pocket? no pockets and i hardly ever leave things in my pockets

Do you like Taylor Swift? i dont mind her, she has some catchy songs

What’s your favorite Disney Channel movie? camp rock haha

If you met your favorite celebrity, would you be calm or star struck? id try to stay calm, id probably be super nervous just being in their presence though

Are there any lights on in the room you’re in? nope, its day time

What’s your favorite subject in school? it was visual arts

What’s your favorite holiday? christmas, it always means ill have a week or two off work!

Do you ever have to do yard work? nope

Is your school close to your house? ive been out of school for a longggg time but it was a 5-10 min drive

Speaking of school, how did you get there today? -

Do you think Bad Romance is a catchy song, or an annoying one? its a good song! i dont love it but im not surprised at how massive it got

Do you use perfect grammar online? honestly, in my previous surveys i would but now i cant be bothered. i use perfect grammar day to day when working so i just sorta wna chill and not focus too much when i do these now

Are you currently using a laptop? yes

Do you have any live versions of songs in your music software? most likely, i used to love downloading them back in the limewire days

Did/do you listen to Britney Spears songs? i loooooved britney when she first blew up. and i still do! i dont listen to her stuff too heavily anymore but i still love it

Is it a windy day? nope

In the past week, have you ridden in a taxi? no

What shorthand do you use the most? if were talking about typing, i still text/chat people with ‘u’ instead of ‘you’

Do you ever wish on stars at night? no, ive never seen a shooting star

What color are your eyes? brown

What album is the current song you’re listening to off of? not listening to music, i have the tv on while doing this

What are you doing after you finish this? not sure, maybe another survey

In your opinion, what song is the most overplayed right now? i havent listened to the radio in forever

Are you in a band? no

How clean is your bedroom? pretty clean!

Is there a pen within reaching distance of you? no

Are you sitting at a desk? no, im in bed lol

Does your favorite band have a male or female lead singer? male

Do you normally shut your bedroom door before you go to sleep? of course ol

Have you seen the movie Moulin Rouge? i feel lik ei have once but i do not remember anything about it

Would you ever dye your hair a different color? yes

Are there any framed pictures in the room you’re in? yes

Have you ever been to a Broadway show? not in broadway... ive seen the musicals lion king and aladdin in my city though

Do you watch So You Think You Can Dance? i did when it first came out

What’s your favorite movie soundtrack? none really stand out to me

Do you prefer group or individual work? individual, id rather just count on myself

Do you have a key to anything besides your house? car

Are you wearing anything with stripes? nope

What time did you go to sleep last night? i think 1am

Did anyone tell you you were beautiful today? no

What show did you last watch? american horror story

Do you think you’ll do anymore surveys today? maybe one more

What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? run and raisin

When was the last time you stayed home from school sick? years ago when i actually attended school lol

Could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? i probably could, i just wouldnt have the patience

If you could run a red light and not get caught, would you? nah. id rather not risk mine or others’ lives

Do you like to listen to music as you do your homework? i dont have homework

Did you think Adam Lambert’s AMA performance was really that controversial? i dont recall, this survey is probably really old

Do any bands flat-out annoy you? nah, i just dont listen to them

Do you have a mirror in your bedroom? yes

Was today a birthday for any of your friends? yes actually! ill need to greet him

When was the last time you rode in a limo? never been in one :(

Do you take naps daily? no. i wish!

Do you still make Christmas lists? yes haha

Do you watch the show Dexter? i did. apparently theyre rebooting it which is exciting! the ending was pretty trash

What’s the background on your phone? its a dark cityscape of nyc

When were/will you be a a sophomore in high school? -

Are you scared of any animals? cockroaches. also i live in australia so while im not afraid of snakes and spiders, im pretty mindful of them

Have you ever been to any sort of convention? yup! ive been to sexpo and a wedding expo lol

Which song did you last listen to on repeat? probably a kehlani song

Where do you want to live when you grow up? around here still

Are you currently using a blanket? yep

Are there any songs that make you cry? not really

How many siblings do you have? one

What are you doing this weekend? its saturday today. im doing nothing. tomorrow im going on a picnic with friends

Do you prefer swimming at the beach or in a pool? pool, its so much more comfortable than a beach lol

When was the last time you had a haircut? hmm... maybe june?

Which musical instrument do you think sounds the prettiest? a harp!

Are you in band or chorus at your school? no

Do you know what you want for Christmas? nope. i dont ‘need’ anything.

Do you watch fireworks on New Year’s Eve? most of the time!

Is your birthday within the next three months? no

How long is the song you’re listening to? not listening to music

Are you anticipating anything this week? yeah, kinda waiting to see if were going ahead with buying some land

Is your mom or dad the older parent? my dad

Have you taken the SATs yet? -

Do you watch anything on E? i dont have e

Are you going to get off the computer now that you’ve finished this? nah maybe one more survey lol

#survey #surveys #quiz #bored #questions

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toomuchtv95 · 5 years ago

Text

My Savior Part 6

Characters: Jay Halstead x Reader, William Miller (OC), Other One Chicago Charters

Word Count: 2.8k+

Chapter Warnings: Fluff, Swearing, Medial talk (Badly lol)

A/N: Okay, I tried to do some research on it the medical stuff so don’t judge.

Enjoy! :)

A/N: Excuse any major grammar mistakes hopefully Grammarly caught most of them.

Series MasterList

You and Jay were definitely were in the honeymoon phase of your marriage. The two of you have been married 4 months and the two of you could barely keep your hands off your each other. Every chance you two got, you were at each other like rabbits, not that either of you were complaining. Recently Jay was sent undercover and has been gone for about a week. Jay was not able to keep in contact with you, but he promised you that Hailey would keep you updated as much as she could. Of course, you were worried about him and the possibility that something could happen to you, but this was his job.

“Hey Y/N, somebody by the name of William Miller called asking for you.” You stopped dead in your tracks when you heard Maggie say that name. You have not heard that name in 6 years. “He left a phone number.” Maggie handed you the piece of paper with the number scribbled on there.

"Thanks, Maggie." You walked into the doctor’s lounge and sat down at the table. This cannot be happening. William Miller was your father who was a drug addict, alcoholic and gambler all mixed in one. He had gotten your mother pregnant and then disappeared for a while. Then he reappeared when you were about 5 and ever since then he had been in and out of your life. He would show up out of the blue asking for money to help support his ‘needs’.

“Hey, you alright?” You looked up from the piece of paper to see Will grabbing a cup of coffee.

“My father is in town.” You whispered as you shoved the piece of paper into your pocket.

“What? Are you serious?” Will and Jay were the only ones that knew about your father, and you wanted to keep it that way. You wanted nothing to with him and what he was associated with. If he’s in town its probably to gamble all his money away, drink his problems away and looking to score some drugs. He comes and goes as he pleases. The only time he actually bothers you was when he needed money. “What does he want?”

“Probably the same things he always wants.” You muttered to yourself. “Look, Jay is still undercover. So, just don’t say anything if you see him. I just need time to figure this out before I tell him.”

“Okay, I won’t say anything, but you will have to tell him.” Will stood in front of you before reaching over and squeezed your hand for reassurance. “Do you have any idea when he will be home?”

“No. All I get out of Hailey is that he’s okay.” You ran a hand through your hair before looking down at your wedding ring.

"Well, I'm here if you need me for anything." You gave him a soft smile as he patted your shoulder before leaving you alone. You took your phone out from your pocket hoping that there was a text update from Hailey, but unfortunately, there was nothing. There was a knock on the window alerting you that you were needed.

It was lunchtime and you already felt like you have been here a whole shift. You saw at least a dozen patients and to say you were tired was an understatement, you were exhausted. You decided to take your lunch at the food truck to get some fresh air and get your mind off missing Jay and your father looking for you. As you grab your sweater, you check your phone again, but still no word. You told Maggie that you were going on lunch if see need you for anything. Zipping up your sweater, you started to head to the food truck but stopped in your tracks when you saw him.

A smile spread across your face as he crossed the street. "Jay." You whispered as you ran over him basically jumping into his arms. The moment you were in his arms, you wrapped your arms around his neck and attached your lips to his. Once Jay set you down, you lightly punched his arm causing him to let out a grunt.

“Ow. What was that for?” Jay rubbed his arm in the spot you hit him.

“You could have called! I have been worried sick. You know how many times I check my phone a day?” You weren’t really looking for an answer just making a point.

“Look I’m sorry. I literally just finished the job and I came straight here to see my wife.” Jay reached over and cupped your face before pulling you into for another kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You kissed Jay once again. “Well, your just in time. I’m on lunch and your buying.” Jay chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. Once the two of you got your food, you sat at the table and he gave you a small summary of the undercover he was doing. He wasn't allowed to talk about it, but he told you what he could.

“Something on your mind?” Your mind kept wandering back to your father. You wanted to enjoy Jay's company and that he was finally home, but you couldn’t help it. You thought maybe you should call him and tell him to leave you alone. Or maybe you should just tell Jay, but if you tell Jay there a chance that he will go overprotective husband/detective, and who knows what he’ll do.

“I just got some information that wasn’t expecting. That all.” Jay reached over and laid his hand on top of yours. “I’m good. I promise.” You smiled at him just as your pager went off. Grabbing your pager from your pocket, you saw that you were needed back in the ED. “Okay, I get back.”

The two of you gather up the garbage then Jay walked you to the entrance. “Look I’ll be home early. Probably before you. I just have to get back to the district finish up a few things.” Jay turned to fully face you. “I’ll have dinner and no I’m not telling you what it is.”

“You really know how to charm a woman don’t you?”

“Only one woman.” You shook your head as he kissed you. “I love you and I’ll see you at home.”

“I love you too.”

You were not sure why you waited this long, but you did and now you were paying for the pain. This morning you woke up to a sharp pain in your upper abdomen and you were pretty sure you pulled a muscle of sorts considering that you do jog when you get the chance and you did go for a jog last night before dinner. You popped some over the counter pain meds and went to work. The meds, of course, did not do anything as the pain still came and disappeared. You stood at the nurse’s station holding your side and rubbing it gently.

"Hey, you okay?" Will came up behind you laid a hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I just pulled a muscle.” With that said you felt like you were going to vomit. You ran over to the nearest trash can and empty the contents of your stomach.

“Woah, Y/N!” Will came right behind you and held your hair back. Will leaned over and glanced in the trash can. “Y/N, that blood.”

“Will’s something wrong.” You held your stomach as the pain was unbearable.

“Okay, let’s get you in a room.” Will placed a hand on your lower back and guided you into a room. "Okay, let's hang an IV with morphine. And get me the ultrasound machine.”

“Will! What the hell happened?” Jay walked into the ED 20 minutes later and approached his brother with a worried expression.

“She has a stress ulcer. It's a sore in the small intestine caused by stress.” After being admitted, Will ran some tests to determine what was wrong. The ultrasound machine wasn’t clear, so he decided to send you upstairs to get an endoscope done and then when the results came back.

“Stress?” Jay looked at Will like he had two heads. “Okay, I’m lost. What going on?”

“Jay, it’s not my place to say.” You still haven’t told Jay about your father being in contact with you. Maybe that how all this started. With you trying to hide the fact about your father has been putting a lot of stress on you and it doesn’t help that you have been working a few extra shifts lately. Pulled muscle my ass. You should have just gotten it checked this morning, but no you wanted to suck it up.

“Will," Jay spoke with a stern voice in hopes that would get Will to talk. Jay figured something was bothering you since he came back, but he thought it was just you working extra hours. But now he can clearly see that wasn’t the case and Will knows what's going on.

“She’s going kill me for this.” Will placed his hand on his brother’s upper arm and pulled him to the side so that they were away from people. “William Miller is back in town. She got the call a couple a weeks ago. She told me she was going to tell you when you got back but by the looks of things, she didn’t tell you.”

Jay was couldn’t believe that you would hide this from him after everything you two have been through. Even though Jay was angry and upset, he was still your husband and he needed to know if you were okay. "How is she?"

"She's okay. I got her on some medicine that that will help the ulcer heal and then got on her a mild pain killer for the pain. But other than that she will be fine. She upstairs in recovery. I just want to keep here a little longer to make sure she stable.” Will patted his brother on the shoulder. “Go see her. Just don’t stress her out too much. She could have another episode.”

As Jay walked past his brother, he headed towards the elevator and as he rode the elevator up, he couldn’t help but think about you and this secret you have been hiding. Once he arrived at the floor you were on, he walked over the nurse’s station and asked for your room. The nurse directed Jay towards your room which he then thanked her and walked over to the room. As Jay approached the room, he saw you lying there with an IV in your arm and an oxygen tube. You slowly opened your eyes when you felt someone in the room. Looking to your right, you saw Jay standing there with his hands in his pockets.

“How are you feeling?” Jay slowly walked into the room before approaching the bed and sitting down on the edge.

“I’m okay.” There was an uncomfortable silence in the air, and you had a feeling that it wasn’t because you were lying in this hospital bed. “Jay…”

“Why didn’t you tell me that your father is back in town?” Damn it, Will. You should have figured he would tell Jay, even though he said he won't tell Jay. You removed the oxygen tube from your nose and slowly sat up.

“I thought I could handle it on my own and I was going to tell you, but I just didn’t know how.” Tears formed in the corners of your eyes. You never wanted Jay to find out like this. “I’m sorry.” You whispered as you looked everywhere but him.

Jay placed two fingers underneath your chin and forced you to look at him. “You know being married means you tell me these things so that we can work them out together.”

“I know and I should have told you.” You leaned forwards and rested your forehead on his shoulder. Jay rubbed your back for a moment before you pulled away. “When can we go home?”

“Will wants to keep you here for a little longer just to make sure everything is okay.” You sighed as you laid back on the bed. Jay chuckled as he stood up from the bed and motioned for you to move over which you did. Once Jay laid down, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder which you laid your hand on his shoulder.

Since telling Jay about your father things have been radio silence from him which led you to think that Jay had something to do with that, but he promised that he had nothing with it. Maybe he gave up and moved on to his next victim. On a positive note, your ulcer was healed, and you were pain-free. Having an ulcer made you realized that you were no longer going to hide any secrets from Jay. Today, was your day off and you had gotten a text from Jay saying that he was able to get away for lunch. The two of you agreed to meet at your favorite Mexican restaurant at 1 pm which was in about 20mins. Once you had changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, you grabbed your phone, keys, and purse and headed out to meet Jay. As you arrived at the restaurant you notice that Jay hasn’t arrived, yet which gave you a moment to glance in the mirror to check yourself and that’s when you saw him.

You closed the sun visor, grabbed your stuff, and hopped out of the car. "So now you're stalking me?” As he approached you, you could clearly see that he was intoxicated which you were not surprised.

“I just wanted to see my daughter.” William took a step closer to you causing you to step backwards. “You’ve been ignoring me.”

“You are not my father. You are a drug addict, alcoholic gambler. You only show up when you need money.” Anger rose in your voice as you secretly pray for Jay to show up.

“It’s different this time. I’m trying to get clean. I just need a little money to help me get through it.” He took another step reaching out to grab you.

“Don’t touch me.” You backed away again and this time you ran into someone. You instantly turned around and sighed in relief.

“You heard her. You need to leave.” Jay stood slightly in front of you in a protective way and flashing his badge at William. “Or I can arrest you for public intoxication along with assault.”

“This is none of your business. We are just having a friendly conversation.” William tried to step around Jay to get to you, but Jay stood completely in front of you blocking William in case he decided to make things worse.

"It is my business. She's my wife." Jay placed his hand on his gun ready to draw, feeling the situation might escalate.

“Yeah, I did. Not that it’s any of your business. It’s not like you care. You aren’t my father. You impregnated mom and left her high and dry because you were too busy to be a real father.” You step a few inches to the side so that you could see William eye to eye. “You need to leave, or he will arrest you.”

“Look you owe me.” William once again tried step around Jay to grabbed hold of you and that’s when Jay grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Jay pushed William up against the car and pulled out his handcuff and cuffed him.

“Told you he would arrest you.” You weren’t going to lie, seeing Jay in action kind of turned you on.

“You bitch. I am your father!” William tried to get out of Jay's grip but of course, Jay was strong than him.

“You’re under arrest.” Jay read him his rights as he shoved him into the backseat of his truck. “You okay?”

You nodded your head as Jay shut the door of the backseat. “Not going to lie. Kind of turned on.” A small smirk formed on your face as Jay shook his head with a small on his face.

“I was really looking forward to lunch.” Jay grabbed your hands pulling you closer to him.

“Tell you what. I’ll make us a romantic dinner. Set some candles and we have the night to ourselves." You whispered so that only the two of you could hear. “And then we work our way to the bedroom to have dessert.”

“Babe, you can’t say those things to me and expect me to stay focus at work for another six hours.” Without a word, you placed a small kiss to his lips before pulling away and stepping away.

Tag List: @nervousmemzie @hehurst23 @anamile6878 @esauthor @stephmazz1990 @daenerys-targaryes @bellageorge03 @haileymatthewss @useyourmarners @get0verit @yienell-mariee @olihju @lovelydivs @stuffedcabbagepatch @chrisrandumness @shipatheart @jocelyn1718 @shadyfox242 @boo20-05 @beachfan412 @mheart27 @supyfish @aparkel @httphiddlestan @haleyjs86 @onechicago18 @ladyate @whatisanniedoin @citylightsla @thevelvetseries @wemma554 @samiam9525 @detectiveinchicago @tyzerman91 @foulstatesmandragonbear @spiridakos-wp @katie1996 @glittermakesmesmile @itsdesiree86 @chloebear26 @delcateswift @rosemusic18 @transparentwombathorsedreamer @detective29 @cjhorseback @sgtsophie @onechicagofan20 @katiehud @corie-the-writer @give-jack-a-lightsaber @yzas-stuff @zizzlekwum

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #Chicago PD #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader

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callmeelle22 · 3 years ago

Text

Blue Dream III

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 4, 559

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything; It would make sense, she supposes, if looking at her also feels like this for him, like her heart beats in time with every breath he takes and like time slows or stalls or...like every minute here is infinitely longer and in these moments… in these moments, she thinks that the world must somehow tilt on its axis because she feels...i feel you comin' down like honey, do do you even know i'm alive?, do do you even know i, i... she feels… (Read below or on the AO3 link on the chapter title.)

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Chapter VII: I'm in Love with You

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Anything

Maybe I should kill my inhibition

Maybe I'll be perfect in a new dimension

On the Saturday the week after Barry’s impromptu visit, Iris finds herself down on Main Street about half an hour after 10 in the morning. Nearly the entire 8 blocks of the street are sectioned off, with a plethora of white tents set up on both sides of the street. She glances on as she makes her way down the sidewalk, as people set up books and jewelry and clothes; beer and wine and harder liquor; food and sweets and other treats.

It’s the setup for Central City’s Fall Fest, one of a multitude of fests in the city that Iris calls home. It’ll be open to the public in a few hours and, like usual, Iris will make her way up and down the blocks a few times, holding a beer in one hand and something fried on a stick in the other, a couple of bags filled with things she doesn’t need in the crook of her elbow.

Now, though, she steps into the alley that leads to the side door of Golden’s, an Asian and American fusion restaurant and bar owned by the parents of her best friend, Linda Park. She gives a heavy-handed couple of knocks and only moments later, Linda opens the door to let her in.

Iris first met the other women when they were in the 7th grade. Iris’s parents had divorced several months prior to a new school year and for reasons not then known to Iris, her dad had gotten full custody of her and six-year-old Wally. They’d moved into a new house on the other side of town and that had meant a new school for her. Linda had sat beside her in their homeroom/advisory class and the girl with beige skin and long dark brown hair was constantly scribbling something in a notebook. Iris had discovered that they’d been stories, usually with families as the starring characters. By then, Iris had begun to write in her own notebook—musings and wonderings about the neighbors she’d just met, about what it meant to be the oldest child of divorced parents. They’d bonded over their writing; well, that and being two of only a handful of girls at the school with skin darker than the pale and spray-tanned skin of their classmates.

For over a decade, it’s been Iris and Linda. Through the messy stages of puberty and their even messier interactions with high school boys; through late-night study binges and even worse interactions with college boys. Through the drug addiction that took Iris’s mom and the car crash that had put Linda’s older brother on life support until he’d succumbed to his own injuries, they’ve navigated it all together.

Now, life gets in the way. Linda, almost immediately after undergrad graduation, had begun shopping around a number of short stories and personal essays she had written until, finally, a publisher had bit and opted to publish them as an anthology. A few years and too many nights spent locked in a room later and Linda’s book is a New York Times bestseller. Iris’s own success story is pending. In addition to completing her graduate degree (which, at 26, she’d started late, after taking some time off and working at a local newspaper), she runs a blog, one she’d started by accident. Her middle school musings had become pointed interviews and, with the classes she’d taken in college, had gotten the necessary skills to begin writing up her own human interest stories. It’s amazing, she’s learned, what people will tell you when they can hide behind the face of someone else. What a Life You’ve Lived is growing in popularity, making some money too, and it’s starting to become more than just a hobby for Iris.

Neither Iris nor Linda is ever truly free; but in a concentrated effort to make time, they brunch at least twice a month. This morning, it’s at Golden’s (where Linda is working as a bartender while she writes her next book) because her parents want them to try out new menu items. When the door shuts behind them, Linda turns and gives Iris a hug, wrapping her arms around her neck. Iris returns it, smiling into her hair, her familiar lavender scent a warm comfort she didn’t know she needed.

“I’ve missed your beautiful face,” Linda says, squeezing her hard once before letting her go.

“Yeah?” Iris asks, mouth lifting in a smirk. “Is it because you’re tired of looking at Daniel’s beautiful face?”

Linda rolls her eyes. “Never, though I’d rather put my eye out before I tell him that.”

Linda has been dating her boyfriend Daniel Ngyuen, nerdy engineer and man ridiculously head over heels for her, for a few months, after they met at a book signing hosted by Linda’s parents.

“You’re ridiculous,” Iris tells her, and Linda preens in response.

Something in Iris tightens, a faint film of green clouding her view for all of a millisecond. She’s ashamed she even had the thought, that she feels anything but happiness at the light in her friend’s chocolate brown eyes or the glow in her cheeks. She’s not jealous of Linda, of course she’s not. But Iris can’t help but find some envy at the feeling of contentment that so obviously surrounds her friend and the juxtaposition of her own drifting existence.

It’s almost tangible, these differences, at least to her. Iris can see the confidence practically emanating from Linda’s dress-clad form, the long-sleeved maxi dress and tall sandals, her wavy shoulder-length hair, making her look a little like a goddess. But Iris imagines that’s what it must look like, to be at the start of a career you’ve always wanted, to have the love of a man you’re secure in, to just...know your place, your purpose.

And maybe Iris is being dramatic. She supposes she looks as put together as she’s always thought she needed to be in her light denim jeans, pale pink cropped sweater, and tan block-heeled sandals. She’s been wearing her natural hair out this week and the wavy curls are piled up in an artfully messy bun. Still, even if Iris can’t touch on why she feels so scattered, like all of the pieces that make up the whole of her are floating aimlessly around her body, she cannot deny that the feeling is there, taking up space in her head like the songs she latches on to keep focused, maybe I should pray a little harder, or work a little smarter.

They walk through the restaurant, bustling with the waitstaff preparing for the 11 am opening. Golden’s isn’t an overly large place, only able to fit about 50 people at a time, but Iris thinks it’s a part of the charm. It’s decorated in dark brown wood and bright white and gold light fixtures; the tables and booths are spread out in a way that allows for privacy, making customers feel as if they’re in their own little worlds.

Linda leads them to their usual table, one actually tucked into a little alcove where only the Parks and their guests are allowed to sit. At the table, there’s already a carafe of juice too close to red-pink to be orange juice, along with a bottle of champagne. Outside of the wine and marijuana Friday nights and the occasional party or club, Iris only really indulges in alcohol when she and Linda have these brunches. They slide into the booth and Linda immediately reaches for the champagne.

Over the next couple of hours, Iris is reminded of why, regardless of her own issues, she loves his woman. They laugh, sharing stories of Iris’s students and the customers who come into Golden’s. They get on each other’s nerves, making jokes and ribbing the other any chance they get. At one point, Linda’s parents come out, her honey-skinned Chinese mother Xuan and her dad Theo, Chinese and white with skin like baked sugar cookies, and Iris blinks adoringly up at the both of them, always lost in their beauty—both tall and elegant with ridiculous cheekbones.

“It’s sickening,” Linda mutters as she watches Iris watch them walk away, “how you look at them.”

“I’ve had a crush on your parents for as long as I’ve known them,” Iris replies. “If they ever want a thre-”

“Don’t you finish that fucking statement,” Linda gripes and Iris howls in laughter until Linda points out the attractiveness of Iris’s own father. “You know I’d always hop on the chance to be your stepmom.”

“And I’d happily sabotage your wedding day.”

“But it’d be worth it when I got to climb on top of Daddy West during the honeymoon.”

Iris throws a strawberry at her.

She hears him before she sees him. She’s been at Fall Fest for only about twenty minutes after leaving Golden’s, full and tipsy, walking through the steadily filling streets. Of all of the festivals in Central City, of which there are several (seasonal fests like the Fall and Spring fests; food fests like the Food Truck and Italian Food fests; cultural fests like the Juneteenth and Hispanic Heritage fests), the Fall Fest is one of her favorites. It’s during the best time of the year, when the sun is still blazing but the wind cuts through the heat. When the leaves have begun to drift off trees and dance onto the ground, changing into the shades of yellow and orange and red that only nature can paint. When the booths run the gamut in what they sell, from cooked and packaged foodstuffs, to clothes and jewelry, to dance or golf lessons. It’s the one festival, besides the Pan-African Celebration, that their entire family would attend, even for a few years after the divorce. Her parents would take off work and put aside their differences to spend time together--until Wally had felt too old and her dad had needed too many more work hours and her mom had gotten too lost; and then Iris had started coming with Linda and then, this year, alone.

But she doesn’t dwell—she tries not to dwell these days—and besides, she’s just heard him.

He doesn’t sound any different in the light of the day. In her head, she keeps hearing him as he is in the throes of passion, when his voice is more of a throaty curse, when it’s a rumble against her heated flesh. Here, out here with children screaming from their blocked-off sections and ladies laughing as they smell through candle selections and men arguing from the faux sports bars set up at random tents, he should sound like anyone else. He shouldn’t even be heard over the music coming from the speakers they can’t see—down for the ride, down for the ride; you could take me anywhere; do do do down for the ride, down for the ride; you could take me anywhere; i hope you will, I hope you will, I hope you will—or the sheer noise that’s true for events like this. But he is.

She looks up, ignoring the woman still trying to convince her to buy a bottle or three of perfume, and she sees him, right at the booth beside hers. He’s with two other men, one shorter with light brown skin and dark brown eyes and black hair pulled back in a ponytail; the other only a bit taller than the friend, with skin darker than Iris’s, glasses, and a short afro. Iris vaguely thinks that the three of them together are some sort of setup for a bar joke. They’re dressed similarly, in pants and t-shirts, though Iris’s eyes catch onto Barry’s hunter green chinos and white shirt, the beige pocket square matching his desert boots. All three of them have relatively full beers in their hands and Iris is looking at the cup in Barry’s hand (or rather, his fingers wrapped around the cup) for about three seconds before it jerks, beer spilling out. She looks up to find he’s looking back at her too, muttering “Iris,” in surprise.

She watches her hand and smiles back at him, a bit awkwardly, stepping away from the booth where the woman has already moved on to a new customer.

“Hi Barry,” she responds, walking over to them. She spares a glance at the other two, the Black man looking at her curiously, the Latino man a bit more humorously. “Fancy seeing you here.”

It’s not her smoothest line, but Iris thinks she might be in shock. When he’d left her, again, before she woke up on Saturday morning, she’d found his number written in tiny handwriting on the notepad on her desk, the unimaginative “call me” scribbled beneath it. She hadn’t. She’d thought about; oh had she.

On Monday, she’d debated calling him up to grab a coffee during her break. On Wednesday, she’d gotten an email about a new story and she’d wondered, for a moment, what he might think about it. But then she’d thought of his sweet mouth telling her “I wanted to know if it was as good as my memory,” and she had decided that he likely wouldn’t care about her days.

Now, he gives her a thorough once-over, probably remembering, and Iris feels a flush of heat run through her that she knows has very little to do with the warm late September sun.

“Iris,” he says again, his voice a touch higher than normal. His companions look at each other, eyebrows raised.

“Iris,” the long-haired one repeats, laughter coloring his tone. “I’m Cisco.”

“And I’m Chester,” says the one with dark skin, and they both stand there looking at her, grinning like loons until Barry cuts in.

“Alright, stop being weird.”

They don’t. Barry rolls his eyes and pushes past them to stand in front of her. Even with the heels she’s wearing, she has to stretch her neck a little to look up at him.

“Hey,” he says, this time lower, a soft breeze on her skin.

“Hi,” she repeats, just as softly.

The sounds of the carnival don’t disappear so much as they become muted, such as if she were submerged in water or if there was a rushing in her ears, because everything becomes background noise save for the concentrated sound of his voice.

“You didn’t call,” he says to her.

“I—” she starts, but she’s got nothing to say, not anything that won’t make her sound needy or desperate.

“Hey Barry,” Cisco calls.

“Yeah?” Barry answers, but he doesn’t turn away from her. No, he’s looking at her still, assessing her almost. He’s trying to figure something out, she decides, or at least that’s how it seems, what with the way he stares so intently, blue-green eyes pouring into her, bringing up images of them staring up at her from between her thighs, bringing out impressions that feel like more than lust, like more than just two people who’ve only ever bared their bodies to each other.

“We’re gonna go to another tent,” Chester says. “Catch up with you later.”

“Alright,” is the reply, those eyes glittering like the sea in the afternoon sun, still fixed on her. There’s a slight frown to his mouth, and when he speaks again, she can’t tell if he’s reached his conclusion or not.

“Walk with me?”

She nods before she even thinks about it. “Sure.”

They start back down the path. The booths are in abundance this year; it’s a bigger festival than she’s seen before. For a while, they don’t talk. They walk side by side, arms brushing every so often, stopping at booths that catch their attention. For him is a booth with a variety of multi-piece puzzles, some featuring landscapes and gardens, others of the solar system or space. For her, it’s one selling notebooks, beautiful leather-bound journals. She stops, enthralled, picking up one in coral-colored leather with rose-gold edging.

“We can also engrave the name,” the sun-tanned woman with pale blonde hair behind the tent says. “Or you can order custom colors.”

Iris nods, murmurs, “these are really nice,” and continues flipping through the heavy cream paper in the coral notebook. These days, much of her writing gets done on her overused Macbook; it’s just easier that way. But when she writes, for herself—little anecdotes about her day, her feelings spelled out in poetry—she does so in notebooks like these.

“You’re a writer,” Barry wonders and it’s a statement as much as it’s a question.

“Yeah.” She looks up at him and nods. “I’m actually getting my master’s in journalism.”

She puts the journal down once she notes the $40 price tag and thanks the woman as they walk off, Iris looking back at the notebook with longing.

“I also run a blog,” she tells him, and the words tumbling out of her mouth are a shock.

“Really?” he looks at her in surprise. “What’s the site? Is it popular?”

It’s not like she’s embarrassed of her blog or anything, but it feels different, to tell people she knows about her work. Because it’s one thing for strangers to read what she types out in earnest, and in tears and in vulnerability, but it’s something altogether different for people she knows to do the same. They aren’t her stories, not actually, but they are always her words, always her emotions she puts into them, and it feels too, too telling somehow.

“It’s growing in popularity,” she tells him, because she’s the one who opened this can of worms. “It’s called What a Life You’ve Lived.”

He hums, like that means something to him, but before she can ask what, two kids come barreling through the aisle. Iris tries to step out of the way and she slips, her heel catching in a small crack in the asphalt. Her knees buckle, but before she can hit the ground, Barry’s arms are around her. One of his large hands holds onto her, pressed against the bare skin of her belly, and then she’s pressed fully against him.

It’s absurd how much she likes the feel of him—the slim but corded muscles in his arms, the apparent strength in his fingers; and she likes the smell of him too, the faint hint of his laundry detergent mixed with the heat of the sun mixed with the citrus of his cologne. It’s another moment (™), which doesn’t make sense because he’s only just caught her from falling. But he’s looking at her like there is more in her gaze besides the brown of her irises, the flutter of her lashes. It would make sense, she supposes, if looking at her also feels like this for him, like her heart beats in time with every breath he takes and like time slows or stalls or...like every minute here is infinitely longer and in these moments… in these moments, she thinks that the world must somehow tilt on its axis because she feels...i feel you comin' down like honey, do do you even know i'm alive?, do do you even know i, i...she feels…

“Are you alright?”

Barry’s voice is quiet, too quiet for the energy they’re surrounded by. And maybe she doesn’t even hear it as she does read the movement of his pink mouth.

“Yeah, I am.”

He straightens, then, and gives her a half-smile. “You know, Iris, if you wanted to fall all over me, you could have just called.”

He likely had been trying for levity, but it’s pointed, right there at the end. She steps away from him and he lets her, his fingers sliding along the small of her back until they’re no longer on her skin. It leaves her cold

(only that can’t be true, because it’s far too warm out)

and she watches as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“I was waiting on your call, Iris.”

They've moved into a corner where the direction of the festival booths turn right. Straight ahead of them is a 21+ section; it features a stage where performances will begin around 5 as well as a number of makeshift bar stations. There’s a similar set-up with kid-friendly activities on the other side of the festival. Barry’s friends are standing at one of the bar stations talking to two women, both with chestnut-brown skin and long kinky hair. Iris’s eyes shift to take in the rest of her surroundings, to the sound of people laughing and the couples holding hands and the families who seem elated to be together on a day like today.

When she turns back, Barry is patiently watching her, head tilted to the side, expression thoughtful, like it always tends to be.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” Barry suggests “We can walk around some more. And once we get sun-tired, I can take you to this spot that I like nearby and we can talk. Maybe about why you didn’t call.”

She licks her lips, pulls the bottom one between her teeth. She hedges, long enough to tell herself that this would be a foolish endeavor, that she should just say no, that he’s nice and cute and what harm would it do. But, really, when he asks, those cyan eyes gleaming and his cheeks faintly pink and his face so goddamn hopeful it almost makes her look away, she really has no other choice.

“Okay, sure.”

She doesn’t tell him why she doesn’t call.

What she does is tell him about her dad and how she’s always been in awe of him, of his grace and his strength and the lessons he’d taught her. She tells him about Wally, who’s brilliant and searching, trying to figure out his way (not unlike her, though this she doesn’t say). She tells him about Linda, her sister in all of the ways that count, who’s always with her, even when she isn’t. And when he asks, because of course he does, she tells him about her mother who was beautiful and kind, all the way until sickness took her away.

She tells him this because he tells her first, about a larger-than-life father whose proximity to wrong-doing bureaucrats had landed him in prison, and an easy-going mother whose life had ended because someone else had been desperate for the money in her purse.

They do indeed walk around ‘til they’re tired, until around 6. Then Barry takes her to a little American bistro where they pride themselves on grass-fed meats and homegrown vegetables. They devour burgers the size of their heads and a mountain of fries that deserve their own table. He stuffs her with food and a piece of pie after, and he asks her some questions. He wants to know her favorite color and the television show she’s currently watching and if she’s always wanted to be a writer: yellow and Bridgerton and only since her parents’ divorce, when she’d needed to know that hers was only a unique story—or maybe she had needed confirmation that it wasn’t. She wonders about his dream job, his favorite hobby, the one thing he wishes he could do: forensic scientist, which he is, amateur theater, and getting his dad out of prison. That opens up a space for more convolution than should be allowed on a first date, and so she asks him more about amateur theater.

After, he walks her back to where her car is parked past Golden’s. When they get there, he listens for the sound of her car alarm, and then he turns her around, pressing her back against her car door. He walks closer, a hand at her waist, the other reaching up to cup the back of her neck, thumb circling lightly around her throat.

“Thank you for dinner,” she whispers. “I had a really nice time.”

“Yeah?” His mouth ticks up, that half-smile that is somehow both charming and a little bit maddening. “Enough that I might get a kiss?”

She tilts her head as if in thought, even as she gives in to her desire to touch him too, reaching up to finger at the faint moles dotting her cheeks. She only barely nods her acquiescence when he closes whatever distance is left and kisses her. Iris is always surprised by how warm his mouth is, by how sweet he tastes. He tastes like the apple pie they had earlier, but also like early sunset coffee on cool fall mornings and like how slow sex in the middle of the night feels.

He’s gentle in some ways, his mouth moving slow against hers, his tongue licking into her mouth like he’s trying to find life inside of her. But he’s a little rough too, squeezing at her waist so he won’t fondle her in the middle of the street, tightening his hold on her throat, only a little, but enough that Iris begins to feel the action in the throb of her sex. They kiss, eyes closed, her own fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, her hips thrusting against his in time to the flick of his tongue across her bottom lip, until she feels the swell of his dick against her belly and her loud moan tears him away from her.

“Fuck Iris,” he all but growls, licking his lips as he looks her over, a little wrecked. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it, playing with the soft strands of his hair, until she notices it’s all messy, matching the state of his swollen mouth, his wrinkled skirt, the heavy dent in the center of his pants. She wonders what she looks like.

“Get in the car, baby.”

Wide-eyed at the endearment outside of sex, Iris does as he tells her to, sliding in and buckling up before he closes the door. When the purr of her engine starts, he motions for her to roll her window down. She does, waiting as he plants his elbow on top of the car, bending his lean frame down so that his face is level with her.

He smiles softly at her. “Go out with me next Sunday.”

She bites at her lip, if only to give herself another moment to breathe. Because this date would be moving beyond a two-night stand, beyond an impromptu date, far beyond kissing on the side of the street.

“What time on Sunday?”

“Early afternoon,” he says and leans in even closer. “I’ll pick you up.”

She nods before she can talk herself out of it, even if she knows that she should. Barry motions for her with a crook of one of his long fingers, and it makes her think of what’s been playing in her head, of down for the ride, down for the ride; you can take me anywhere, and when she comes to, he places a sweet kiss on her mouth.

“I’ll see you next week,” he says, pulling away slowly.

And then Iris watches him—his strong and assured walk, his compelling and commanding aura—until she can’t see him anymore.

Do do do down for the ride, down for the ride

You could take me anywhere

I hope you will, I hope you will, I hope you will

#westallen fanfiction #strangers to lovers #iris west #barry allen

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 years ago

Text

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part II/VII)

"candy floss"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @leovaldez37 @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: grief, feels, brief mention of Fred x Reader ig?

A/N: I decided to name the parts bc why the fuck not so keep an eye on the titles 👀. This story is based off this convo and these headcanons. If you wanna be tagged in the next parts tell me, and enjoy <3

Prologue :the aftermath

Part I : sleepless nights

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The moment the last group of customers decided it was time to call it a day and exited the shop, I left the till counter and grabbed my wand from my pocket, instantly turning the sign in the door so it could be read from outside 'closed'.

A sigh escaped my lips as I leaned against the multicolored wooden rail.

I was drained.

The shop helped our minds to get distracted and stray from the grief, yes, but it was also exhausting.

We had been subconsciously overworking ourselves to the point where it was borderline self-destructive.

It didn't help that I was throwing myself into comforting George, either. I could not be blamed for doing that, though; he was broken.

A part of me, the rational one, knew he would pick up the pieces and build himself up again, it would just take a lot of time.

There was another part of me, though, that depressed, drained part, that was beginning to think he would never heal by himself —maybe he wouldn't heal at all— but still held onto the hope that, if I tried hard enough, I would be able to mend what had been broken in him.

A terrible idea, really, because I started to dismiss in its entirety my own miserable, damaged state.

And George, ever the caring, sensible one, would have noticed that; he would have made me realize I was not doing nearly as well as I thought, he would have talked some sense into me, but he wouldn't— he couldn't, because George was lost in an ocean of grief, trying so hard not to drown that he wasn't able to notice I was trying to aid him from my very own sinking boat.

It also seemed to be working; he was more animated, slept more soundly, and his smile was a bit brighter even —at least the one he had for me.

"Rough day?" My eyes, which I didn't know I had closed, fluttered open at George's voice.

"Very."

He walked to me with a tinge of guilt in his face. "You know we can switch places, right?" I had been working as the public face of the shop since we had reopened, and George had taken on the task of doing the paperwork and shippings instead, showing up from time to time to help me and to let people know there was still a Weasley running the business.

I had been the one to suggest this, since I knew George had compromised with reopening only because of me, and he was clearly not ready to put up a sociable, positive attitude for dozens of people every day.

"Nah, it's fine like this." I assured him with a reassuring smile.

He measured me with his eyes for a second; I couldn't really tell if he saw through me or not. "So I was preparing the today's shippings," he rocked a tiny purple basket I quickly recognised in front of me. "I found this in the back of the stockroom."

"Are those—?"

"Candy floss cupcakes, yes." A year and a half ago we had bought five baskets of candy floss cupcakes from Honeydukes per George's request in order to unsuccessfully try and implement them.

"Are they even edible anymore?" I couldn't help but laugh.

"I hope so?" He chuckled too, tearing the film covering the sweets. "Thought we might as well finish them."

My eyes travelled from the basket to him and viceversa before stating, "well I'm hungry so..."

"Same here." He was the first one to pull out a pastel colored cupcake, though he handed it to me. "Wanna get food poisoning together?" Laughing, I gave him a nod as he grabbed his own cupcake. "At the count of three?"

"One"

"Two"

"Three." We said in unison right before taking a bite of our respective madeleines.

I frowned at its surprisingly good flavour. "Am I delirious or are they actually edible?"

"Dunno," he shoved the rest of his cupcake into his mouth with a shrug. "maybe we're just starving."

"Go big or go home, I guess." I finished my cupcake before leaning on the basket to pick another one. My head snapped up with my brow quirked when I heard a soft chuckle. "What?"

"Nothing." George shook his head, motioning at the stairs. "Shall we sit down?" I followed his lead, sitting on the stairs and waiting for him, who had stepped towards the drinks aisle to grab a couple of juice bottles, to do the same.

We stayed there, eating and drinking in a comfortable silence until the basket was empty and our eyelids threatened to shut.

"I think we should head back to the flat." He spoke, leaving the half empty juice aside so he could stretch.

"I'm gonna learn how to cook." I stated, getting up. "We can't get by based on most likely expired sweets and whatever is in the Leaky Cauldron menu."

"Aight." He mimicked my actions, picking up the stuff we left on the stairs. "We will learn the basics tomorrow." He got behind me and began to gently push in the flat's direction. "But now we're gonna get some sleep, miss."

I would be lying if I said my heartbeat didn't pick up when his hands landed on my shoulder blades and made their way to rub both my arms reassuringly.

I would be lying if I denied I leaned back when he did that, letting myself get closer to his chest.

And I would definitely be lying if I said I didn't crave going back to my room so I could cuddle him all night.

One Week Later

"—right in the cauldron, love." I pointed at the cauldron besides me, giving a sweet smile to the kid in front of me, visibly going to be sick thanks to the free sample of Skiving Snackboxes.

"Y/n!" I spun around at the loud calling of my name above the shop's racket. I was able to discern a long, red mane flowing fast towards my position right on time for the owner to wrap her arms around me.

"Glad to see you too, Ginny." I laughed, trying not to lose balance due to her enthusiasm. "How come you're here?" I questioned, pulling away.

"We heard you were open." Harry walked up to me, appearing from behind the girl, "And thought we'd pay a visit to our friends, right?" Ginny nodded, looking around while Harry gave me a quick, yet comforting hug. "Where's George?"

I motioned up to the small office, redirecting the couple's eyes to the second floor. "Doing paperwork—AH!" I jolted when a pair of hands tickled my sides, my head snapping to see the towering ginger standing behind me. "Speaking of the devil."

"I thought I saw Gin through the window," George explained, his hands lingering on my waist for long enough to his sister to stare, before pulling Ginny into a tight hug. "And came down to check if she was distracting my employee."

"You got her all bored here, mate." Harry pointed out, a light joking tone in his voice.

"And you're the one supposed to help with that?" George rolled his eyes dramatically. "Pfft... What a world we live in." With the said, he gave the boy a side hug. I heard Harry murmur an 'We missed you' before they pulled away with a pat on the shoulder.

My gaze landed on the youngest Weasley, whose welled up eyes were trained on her older brother's half smile. I only averted my eyes and waited for her to discreetly wipe away the unspilled tears while Harry and George catched up.

By the letters she had sent me, I reckoned the last time she had been near George, he had been lifeless; seeing a glimpse of who was once one of the most cheerful, funny and charismatic people in her life, was probably poignant to Ginny.

I hadn't realized she had moved closer until I didn't hear her soft voice. "Thank you." I offered her a confused smile, though deep down I knew what she meant.

Two Days Later

George was having one of those days.

We both knew it was coming soon; it had to happen sooner rather than later, since he had been in a surprisingly good mood for almost a week. I suspected seeing Harry and Ginny had brought back the events of the Second of May.

I suggested to close the shop for the day, since he was unable to move out of bed; he refused to do so, but I convinced him to stay in the flat and rest —it was Tuesday, anyway; I wouldn't have to handle many customers.

Due to that, when I saw Hermione, Ron, Bill and Fleur entered the shop, it was understandable that I hadn't become the happiest person in the world.

I greeted them, there were hugs, kisses, and even a joke or two, and when Bill asked about George, I excused him without giving much detail.

They understood.

Fleur was the one to restart the conversation, lightening a bit before requesting a tour for the shop, since she had not yet been there.

It was when we reached the love potions that Hermione, using the fact that Fleur was very much interested in the product, held my hand and pulled me aside.

"So... how are you doing?" The frown in her face, the fact that she was whispering, the squeeze her hand gave mine, let me know she had read me the moment her eyes met mines.

I sighed with a shrug.

"You can tell me." Could I? "No one's asking you to put on a happy face, Y/n." The girl assured me, her eyes digging into mines. "It's not just George, we all lost—" she shook her head at her own words before correcting herself. "you lost him too."

I lost him too.

I bit my lower lip to stop it from quivering.

The memory of Fred's broken smile as his corpse laid on the stretcher, that memory that haunted my dreams, appeared vividly before my eyes.

My lips started to burn with the ghost of that kiss he gave me before we split up, him with Percy and me with George; it hadn't been meant to be a goodbye kiss. It was meant to be a good luck kiss.

I covered my mouth to muffle a sob, and Hermione's arms were quick to be wrapped around me, reassuringly rubbing my back.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I saw them entering from Y/n's balcony; I wasn't emotionally ready to face them all at the same time, but when I didn't see them exit, I figured Y/n hadn't been able to dismiss them.

I decided I owed to them all to bite the bullet, so I threw on a shirt and the first trousers I grabbed, cleaned up a bit and left the flat.

With a deep breath, I made it to the second floor and mentally prepared myself to go down to the first one.

As I began to climb down, though, I noticed Hermione and Y/n talking in private, closer than the others to the stairs.

I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but all my senses were automatically focused on Y/n whenever we were in the same room; she just stole me away from reality.

"You lost him too."

Hermione's words visibly triggered something on Y/n.

'Something', as if I didn't know what they had triggered, as if I didn't know what— who was on her mind.

I guess he was always on her mind, though.

What was left of my heart shattered in a million pieces when she broke down to tears —for several reasons—. "I miss him." She whispered in Hermione's shoulder. "I miss him so much."

If I had any tears left, I would have cried my eyes out right there. Had I been so selfish that I had disregarded how she was feeling? So blinded by the light and love and warmth she was constantly giving me that I had forgotten about her grief? Was I that bad of a person, that I would have rather live in the illusion that she had not lost the boy she was dating?

My mind told me I didn't want any of those questions answered.

"George!" As Ron yelled my name in surprise, Hermione and Y/n pulled away, the latter rubbing her eyes while both of my brothers jogged upstairs to hug me. "Ginny told us you're open—"

"But Y/n said you weren't feeling well." Bill finished, squeezing my shoulder. "We only stayed a little longer for Fleur to see the shop."

"Yeah, we'll come back tomorrow," Ron assured me. "So you can rest and..."

My brother's voice sounded further and further with each word; I felt myself drifting off, getting lost in my own mind and gravitating towards the same thought over and over.

She deserves better.

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