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yan-twst · 4 years

Note

Thank you for all your hcs! Can i request non yan hcs for idia, lilia, and silver’s reactions to their partner who wants their characters in a game to marry for special benefits like duo moves and matching outfits? But then later on they make a comment about how it can be a stepping stone to marrying in real life 🎮

idia shroud

idia is no stranger to marriage perks in certain games. he’s never been a fan of them; multiplayer games are fine, and guilds are all good and dandy, but he just doesn’t like the idea of having to ask a random stranger on the game to marry him even if it’s for perks. it’s- it’s really embarrassing, ok?

but when his partner asks him if he can log into a game they play because of a “special marriage campaign”, it’s entirely different. of course it’s different- this is his partner, someone he already knows and loves; but that doesn’t mean that he’s entirely composed either

it’s just a game it’s just for the perks why is he so worked up- idia seems to get flustered enough one would almost think he was considering a real-life proposal. his lover can tell, too (it’s not too hard to notice when idia is stressed), and it’s almost... adorable how much thought he seems to put into an in-game wedding that really just consists of going through some dialogue prompts and getting an item that’s really not that rare

one would think that with how used to video games he is, that the whole ordeal would just go over his head as another event to clear for some in-game cosmetics and moves- in practice there’s not that big of a difference between this and other multiplayer duo events in the game- but... it’s clear he’s flustered over it, as silly as he feels about it

it’s so hard to not tease him about it, but idia’s lover knows that if they comment on idia’s adorable seriousness over the game event, he’ll get all pouty and depressed. still, when the actual wedding event is going on and both avatars are in wedding attire, they can’t help but make a fateful comment;

“i wonder if our real wedding will look something like this” is enough of a comment to make idia short circuit, and that’s a big feat, because usually once he picks up the controller he zeroes in on the game to a degree where it’s almost impossible to get his attention

“y-you can’t just say that...! that’s- our wedding would... look cooler.” the way idia’s voice slowly dies down as he speaks, probably choked out of embarrassment, is adorable. to anyone who wasn’t familiar with him, they’d probably find it hurtful he’s so tense and clumsy at the topic of marriage, but his partner knows better. idia’s flustered attitude at the subject isn’t brought around because the student dislikes the thought of being united to his lover; by now, they can tell that he’s overwhelmed in a positive way. it’s easy to see the gears turning in his head in the way he grips his controller, face red as he glances at them and then at the screen (to a not very interesting wedding event, but hey, it’s a free event and it’s just to unlock some skins and duo combat moves so it’s alright for what it is). he shyly scoots closer to them; whatever he was going to say before, he’s too flustered to continue saying, but the way he lets go off the controller with one hand to place it around his beloved’s shoulder perhaps speaks louder than any words he could stutter out in his current state.

lilia vanrouge

ohoho? marriage in a game? how advanced times are!

of course, this is just lilia poking fun at his lover. he’s well aware of the marriage event- he tends to play games way into the night, and it just so happened he was online during midnight when the event announcement dropped.

in good vanrouge fashion, he takes every chance to tease his partner, at least a little. he might make a big deal out of it all, chuckling about “how quickly time flies” and how “just yesterday he was teaching them how to play the game and now they’re marrying”

despite marriage being a bit different in concept between fae and humans, lilia has been around for a long, long time. he doesn’t really need any explanation on the human concept of marriage, nor does he need any explanation on the concept of marrying in-game by exchanging some mildly rare rocks and mashing through some dialogue prompts to obtain some items and some skins

and yet somehow he’s still caught off-guard; when his partner chuckles and comments about how perhaps in the future they’ll marry just like they’re doing in-game now, lilia’s heart jumps a little. for once he doesn’t immediately have a playful response ready

he almost feels like he’s a thousand years younger, a lovesick teen again, with how his heart seems to melt into warm honey at those words. lilia doesn’t often think of the future- he’s learnt to live in the present, to focus on the things that are with him (because perhaps in some time, they won’t be there anymore); but he allows himself to imagine being wed to his beloved, and it warms his heart

the way he almost drapes himself over his partner, cooing about how sweet they are and burying his head into the crook of their neck is perhaps a good symbol of how surprisingly moved by the comment he is. lilia is a family-centric guy: he can’t help but get sappy at the thought of marriage, and he doesn’t care if the comment about it originated from some video game event

“i wonder if you’d prefer a human or a fae wedding. this game seems to be very much based on wedding rites from various lands” lilia’s talking about the game, but the way he nuzzles into his partner and the tone of his voice clearly seem to indicate that he’s not really thinking about the game, but rather imagining an actual wedding. surely later he’ll go back to the game to test out the new moves and try on the wedding skins- he is pretty obsessed with the game after all- but at the moment, his brain is too focused on other things to even truly think of the game. if lilia could purr, he’d surely be doing so: he’s always been keen on incorporating his lover into his odd little family with malleus and silver (and even sebek, to an extent), but there’s something about them being the one to bring up marriage first that makes his heart flutter. “remind me to teach you about weddings in the valley of thorns. i’d like to see if the wedding rites from your homeland could be mixed with those...”

silver

silver may not be too keen on video games, preferring to spend his valuable awake time studying or training. games are fun, sure- he often sees his own father stay up until the crack of dawn mashing away at a controller, or spots malleus playing with that weird egg-shaped virtual pet thing- but silver finds that whenever he tries to play for his own enjoyment, he tends to fall asleep with the controller or console in his hands

but he also considers spending time with his partner as an important part of his day, and so when they ask him if he could make an account on some game they play so he could help them out to complete an event, he agrees, despite knowing he probably won’t play much outside of lending said help

he’s visibly flustered and confused when his partner explains that he’s essentially going to be marrying them in the game. he might have played some games here and there, or watched lilia play from time to time, but he’s never heard of getting married in a game...?

it’s not that he doesn’t understand; ok, it makes sense to unlock things for completing something in the game, sure. he just can’t help but feel a little bit shy, and more so feel incredibly silly for being shy over a game wedding

still, he almost seems to try and take on the game event like it’s one of his serious tasks, with how his brow furrows as he accompanies his partner to go and collect the needed resources and as he carefully reads the dialogue instead of smashing the ‘a’ button to get it over with. it’s clear he’s trying to distract himself from his initial flustering by trying to take in the game event as serious work

... and all of that lasts until his partner makes a comment on how “getting married in the game won’t measure up to getting married in real life”. that’s when he nearly drops the controller and feels his face heat up

his idea of a wedding is quite quaint and at the same time fantasy-like. he’s never actually attended a wedding, but he remembers lilia reading story books to him and how the stories always seemed to end with the valiant knight having a beautiful wedding with his beloved. he can’t help but imagine himself in that situation, imagining those storybook weddings but instead of it being the valiant knight protagonist and his love interest it’s him and his lover- the thought is almost... dizzying, in a good way

“don’t let the old man, hear you talking about marriage, or he’s going to go insane and start planning the wedding now.” silver leans to the side, pressing closer to his lover’s body as they continue advancing through the wedding event. although his words aren’t particularly romantic, there’s something in his tone that’s soft, almost delicate; without even looking, his lover can easily tell silver’s flushed, his pale skin and white hair making the blush stand out. he’s not wrong- they can easily imagine lilia going absolutely bonkers at the thought of his son’s wedding, and it elicits a giggle from them. he seems to find the thought equally as hilarious (though he can say with certainty that when time comes to let lilia help with the wedding prep he’ll surely get a headache from it all), as he presses a chaste kiss to their cheek. “... but when time comes, i promise we’ll have a beautiful wedding.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #idia shroud #lilia vanrouge #silver twst #Anonymous

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Steal Away: 2 / 5

When a bank robbery with his brother goes horribly wrong, Killian Jones learns to heal with the help of a fiery blonde who happened to get caught in the crosshairs.

A Modern AU

Based loosely on the movie Hell Or High Water (and so I tag @captainswanmoviemarathon)

Read on Ao3

Read The Rest

Read my Other Stuff

A/N: So this was supposed to be a one shot, but it’s, like, 24k words so I thought it would be best to split it up. I’m probably going to post one part a night for the next week or so, though.

This part is rated T as well, mostly for language and car sickness :) (I’ll let you know when we get to M hehehe)

thank you as usual to @the-darkdragonfly, @donteattheappleshook and @xhookswenchx for letting me ramble about this for weeks, and to Kay for beta-ing <3

~~~~

It happens quickly.

Her sense of humor, her taste in music, the adorable way she snorts when he hits a pothole while she’s sleeping… it’s impossible for him to avoid the feelings that stir in him. It’s almost embarrassing, the speed at which he begins to recognize his feelings, but it’s not as if he plans on sharing them at any point.

The fact is… he likes her. She’s cute, and funny, and undeniably sexy, and he knows that if she wasn’t here, he probably wouldn’t be either. He would’ve been arrested right off the bat, or shot in the bank himself, or drowning in a bottle of rum beside his brother’s grave. If it wasn’t for Emma Swan and her insistence to stay in his life, he wouldn’t be on his way to Maine to pick up the only remaining person in his life who means something.

Although, perhaps that isn’t true, because after a day on the road, he’s discovered that she’s starting to mean something, too.

He doesn’t know enough about her to dignify a crush, but he also isn’t stupid. He knows that he’s infatuated with her. He knows that he’s finding it hard to keep his gaze off of her. He knows that her stunning green eyes play off of the gold of her skin and her hair in such a way that makes his heart race. He knows that, based solely on what she’s told him so far, he’s desperate to know more.

She doesn't have a family. She spent much of her childhood homeless and running away from abusive foster placements. She was abandoned as an infant, left in the woods at only a few hours old. She’s been through hell and back, and she still manages a blinding smile.

Her ex boyfriend is the reason she’s here with him, he thinks. She says that he screwed her over and that she wants nothing more than to get away from him and from the place that reminds her of him, and Killian thinks this all happened at a rather convenient time for her. She told him yesterday, when he was panicking over his brother’s demise, that she could tell that he was there in that bank for a good reason, and he’s taken to assuming that she has a good reason to assume that.

They hardly know each other, and yet he feels as though he’s known her his whole life. He knows so little about her, and yet, he can read her like she’s an open book. The term kindred spirits feels naive, and yet, that’s exactly what they are.

“Are we gonna stop in Chicago?” she asks excitedly as she watches the Welcome to Illinois sign pass them by.

“Definitely not,” he laughs. “It’s far too north for where we’re headed.”

“What, and Maine isn’t?” she snorts, shaking her head and pointing out a bird that flies by. “What’s up there, anyway?”

Immediately, his heart starts racing and his palms start sweating at the thought of telling her the true reason for their trip. It dawns on him that, when they arrive, he would have to tell her anyway, lest he abandon her in town before he arrives at the lawyer’s office.

Of course, Emma has experienced her fair share of abandonment at this point in her life, and while he hardly knows her and shouldn’t care, he wouldn’t dare contribute to the trauma that comes with the feeling of being left behind and forgotten.

Bloody hell.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she says after a long moment of silence.

He clears his throat, drawing his focus back to the highway before him. “It’s alright, love. I just… it’s a sore subject, I suppose.”

“We share a lot of those,” she jokes, smirking at him and making his heart race. More gently, she reasons, “which means you should know by now that I won’t judge you.”

“Aye,” he agrees immediately, because he does know that. “Aye, you’re right. It’s, um… my child.”

He catches her balking, her jaw dropping and then snapping shut in quick succession before he needs to focus back on the road. “You have a kid?”

With a nod, his grip on the steering wheel tightens. This vehicle is better than the last, the clutch not sticking like the one in the truck had, but it’s so small and cramped that he doubts they’ll be able to sleep comfortably in these seats tonight. He’d best pull over soon so that they can find a place to sleep. “I do,” he confirms. “A daughter. She’s eight.”

“How old are you?” she asks in shock.

He narrows his eyes, shifting his gaze to her briefly and suspiciously asking, “how old are you?”

“I asked you first,” she says seriously, as if she truly doesn't want to disclose her age, and he begins to panic. She looks old enough, but the potential that he’s just kidnapped a minor on top of everything else begins to assault his thoughts.

“Please just tell me I didn’t kidnap you,” he begs, his heart racing.

“No,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m 23, and much more mature than you.”

With a sound that’s somewhere between a snort and a sigh of relief, he nods. “Aye, love. I’m sure you are.”

She sits in silence, staring at him expectantly, and he knows that it drives her mad when he smirks and begins to laugh. “Don’t be stupid! Just tell me how old you are!”

“I’m… I’m 31.”

“Oh,” she says, chuckling beside him. “So you’re not that much of a cradle robber. Just a regular old bank robber.”

“Oy!” he shouts in offense, staring at her in shock. “Sensitive subject. And what makes you think I’m trying to rob your... cradle?”

She snorts and shakes her head. “Please. I saw the way you were staring at my ass at that last rest stop.”

She could’ve chosen a more opportune time to say that, perhaps when he wasn’t taking a sip of coffee. It’s rather uncomfortable coming up his nose. “Love,” he says through a cough. “I’m not— that is, I meant not to—”

“It’s fine, Killian,” she tells him, giggling softly and playfully. “A girl likes to feel flattered, especially a girl who feels like a—”

Her jaw snaps shut and her eyes grow wide, the emerald catching the rays of the sun and throwing glints of gold. “Like a what, darling?”

“Like… um, like I could eat everything on the menu at McDonalds. Is it time to stop yet?”

“No,” he laughs, although he finds that he struggles to say no to her and mean it, even after such little time, and he indicates his intent to change lanes and moves towards an exit. “We only stopped for breakfast a few hours ago.”

“Well, I’m starving,” she tells him, shooting him a soft smile. “And if I don’t stretch my legs in a minute, they’re gonna fall off.”

“You need to stretch your legs? Your feet are currently on top of my dashboard. Is that not enough of a stretch?”

“Your dashboard? I’m pretty sure I witnessed you stealing this car.”

“From a scrapyard,” he mumbles, giving her a shy smile as he exits the highway. “What do you want for lunch? Or should I say brunch? It’s barely eleven.”

“We crossed time zones, you ass.”

“What do you want?” he laughs.

She hums playfully, pretending to ponder his question seriously and says, “a prime rib, cooked medium rare, with a side of garlic mashed potatoes. Caramelized onion and mushroom sauce on the steak. And some green beans, for balance.”

Shaking his head and laughing along with her, he says, “chicken nuggets and fries it is, darling.”

~~~~

“You need to pull over,” she says suddenly, breaking almost an hour of silence between them during which he was certain she was asleep. After their early lunch, he decided to keep driving, anticipating that she would take over in a few hours.

“Emma,” he sighs, “we only just stopped two hours ago.”

“I’m not asking,” she demands. “I’m telling you that if you don’t pull over,” she puts her hand over her mouth, her retching and gagging preventing her from saying anything more.

“Jesus,” he mumbles as he pulls into the breakdown lane, barely stopped and still in gear when she thrusts the door open and loses her lunch all over the ground. He can’t ask her if she’s alright because she hasn’t stopped vomiting, so he checks his side mirror and opens his door, walking around the front of the car to meet her. He stands behind the door and places his hand in her hair, massaging her scalp as she shudders violently. “I didn’t realize you were prone to car sickness.”

She groans, shaking her head and resting it against the window at her side. “I think your driving has gotten worse.”

He hums, continuing his ministrations on her scalp as she catches her breath. “Was it the chicken, love? I knew that stuff was crap.”

“No, it’s your crap driving.”

“Do you want to take over, then?”

“No, I want to sleep.”

“Come on out and get some fresh air, would you?” She whimpers as he pulls the door open a bit more, and he takes her hand to help her out and around her sick. “It’s alright, love, come here.”

She breathes deeply as she stands, and only remains in front of him for a moment before she falls forward against his chest and into his arms. “Sorry,” she whispers into his sweatshirts wrapping her arms around his waist and holding herself close to him. “For delaying the trip.”

“You needn’t worry about that, love,” he soothes, and he focuses on moving his hands along her back and hair in the same way she had his. “A few moments while you find your bearings won’t hurt. Are you alright?”

She nods against him, a sound coming from her throat that makes him squeeze her tighter. He can’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, the need to comfort her interrupting any reasonable thoughts in his head. She whispers, “yeah,” so softly that he kisses her again.

“During lunch I found a small campground that takes cash. It’s only another few hours; can you make it that far? We can use the tent and the camping mat instead of sleeping in the car.”

“Luxurious,” she jokes softly, maintaining her firm embrace around his middle. “That sounds perfect.”

~~~~

She’s relentless in her jokes at his expense as he struggles with the tent. It’s dusk, and there’s a decent canopy of trees above him, and, as she points out often, he’s getting old. He struggles to see the small pieces and determine what goes where, and she’s hardly any help as she sits in the car laughing at him as she claims to be recovering from another spell of car sickness.

“You could try helping me, you know,” he finally mumbles as the structure collapses again and he’s met with her symphonic laughter.

“Need a newer pair of eyes, Captain?” she asks in good humor, standing and bounding towards him confidently. It’s almost miraculous how quickly she’s recovered, and yet her nausea seems to keep coming back.

“Very funny, love. Come and tell me where E connects to G.”

It’s impossible to ignore the way the full moon shines against her hair, almost white in the dim light of the night sky. The gentle waves flow freely as she releases the tie from around her locks, rubbing her palms over her face as she settles into the warm cocoon of the sleeping bag. She gives him a soft, gentle smile as he zips the tent’s opening securely shut, taking his place upon the ground between her and the door. “Where’s yours?” she asks, gesturing down at her sleeping bag and camping mat.

He shrugs and then nods towards her. “Someone stole it.”

Her eyes widen in surprised embarrassment and she asks, “this is yours? What about-- weren’t you and… I mean…”

Smiling as he lies down on his back, he turns his head to face her and says, “I was meant to travel alone, actually.”

Just as he thinks she’s about to match his position and lie back herself, she stirs and begins tugging on the sleeping bag until she’s out of it. She shakes it out in front of herself to straighten it and then feels around in the dark for the zipper, pulling it around the puffy fabric until it’s fully open before her. Turning towards him, she gives him another soft smile and dramatically opens it like a parachute, draping it over the both of them. “There you go,” she says with finality. “We can share.”

“You don’t have to do that, love. It’s summer anyway.”

“We’re sleeping outside, and you're taking a second, unexpected person on your trip across the country, who also happens to frequently demand pit stops. The least I can do is share your sleeping bag with you.”

“Well… thank you, lass. That’s very kind of you.”

“I just can’t part with the mat, sorry. The ground is way too hard.”

He laughs as he turns to his side, silently agreeing with her that the ground is mighty firm as he grimaces. “You can’t spare it for an old man with old bones?”

She shrugs, laughing softly as well as she rolls to her side to face him head on. “You're not that old.”

“So I'm only young when it suits you?”

“I didn’t say you were young.”

He hasn’t laughed this much in years. Before he met her, he hadn’t been so close to a woman in almost a decade. He’s forgotten how soothing the gentle touch of another can be, and he’s been hard pressed to ignore how especially soothing she is, in particular. “You do have quite the sense of humor, love.”

“All in good fun,” she smiles. He catches her gaze shooting down at the hem of the old sleeping bag, her fingers fiddling with some thread that has pulled away from its place. “Will you tell me something?” she asks in a whisper.

“What is it?”

She clears her throat nervously, continuing to avert her eyes from his, and asks, “will you tell me about your daughter?”

With a hum and a sad smile, he bites his bottom lip and nods, the memories of his love flooding back into his mind, as if he’s ever been able to prevent them. “Alice,” he says. “She’s just turned eight a few months ago. I missed her birthday.”

“Why? What happened?”

He notes the way that her fingers continue to play at the loose threads, and he matches her actions just beside her. “I was with my mother; she was dying and had no one else while Liam was in jail. I wanted to bring Alice with me, but… her mother wouldn’t allow it.”

“I’m sorry,” she says immediately. He hears a rustle against the mat her head lies on and lifts his own gaze to meet hers.

“Thank you.”

“When did you see her last, then?”

He gulps over the lump in his throat. “It’s been well over a year.”

She sighs, and he doesn’t think he imagines the minute amount of space that she closes between them. “You must miss her terribly.”

“Aye, I do. Everyday.”

“Is there… I mean, is there a reason it’s been so long? I’m not trying to judge you, I’m sorry, I just—“

“It’s alright, love,” he interrupts, noting the sudden shift in her demeanor as she realizes the nature of her question. “Her mother was rather… controlling, I suppose. I believe she used drugs and alcohol for much of Alice’s early life. I don’t have any reason to believe she used during her pregnancy, but I cared for Alice from birth when Eloise fell off the wagon. I even named her, after my ailing mother. But a few years later, she got clean and started to take over. She took Alice to live with her; became upset when I came around. And eventually, the way she would scream at me when I tried to visit made Alice upset, so I stopped coming around as much.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and he wonders if he’s taken things a bit too far. If he’s opened up to her too much. He fears this for what feels like an eternity as she lies beside him, her warm breath washing over his nose as he thinks the worst. That he’s upset her, that he’s offended her, that he’s made her think of the trauma of being abandoned herself as he describes the way he abandoned his own daughter. And his fears are confirmed when she sniffles softly before him and moves her fingers from the frayed threads to her eyes, wiping tears away.

“Emma,” he whispers into the darkness, “I’m sor--”

“That’s so terrible,” she interrupts sadly, and he bows his head in shame, knowing already that his actions are deplorable. Until she whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry… for what?” he asks in shock, speaking almost at full volume, a contrast to their whispering tones.

“You just--” she sniffs once more, “--it’s obvious how badly you want to be in your daughter’s life, and you haven’t been able to. That’s got to be the worst feeling… I can’t even imagine not being allowed to…”

Clearing his throat, he takes a risk by reaching before himself to wipe a tear from her soft cheek with his thumb, almost desperate to comfort her as she has him the entire time he’s known her. “It’s alright, love,” he whispers. “I’m going to get her back, with your help. I wouldn’t be here, on my way to her, if it weren’t for you.”

She sniffles and laughs at the same time, adorably embarrassed at the sound that escapes her, and asks, “what’s changed now? With you and her mom?”

“She died,” he answers simply. If she had begun to relax slightly into his hand, she stiffens at his words. “She relapsed, mixed drugs and alcohol… her body couldn’t handle it.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “That must’ve been hard, too.”

“Not much,” he answers too quickly. She draws her brows together in question and he continues, “I’m sad for Alice; she’s lost her mother. But she never really had her much. Eloise was never a very devout mother. It always seemed like she was in it for the image, or only when it suited her. I don’t think she ever really wanted a child.”

Emma nods gently, the small gap between them getting smaller when a gust of wind shakes the tent and she slides closer to him. “Was she, I mean, was Alice a surprise?”

“Oh, aye, very much so,” he laughs softly. “El and I weren’t ever a couple, we just met at a bar and… well, we were only together once. It was sort of a low point for me.”

“I get that,” she nods again. “Sleeping with the wrong person, I mean. Not that… I mean, not that Alice was a mistake or anything, of course.”

“I know what you mean,” he consoles in a whisper as she again worries that she’s offended him. She should know that she couldn’t possibly say the wrong thing, because despite how short of a time he’s known her, he knows that she can do no wrong in his eyes.

“Will you tell me about her? Like… What was it like when she was a baby? Was it very hard?”

He hums and nods, agreeing, “it was hard, yes; I was mostly alone. But it was so worth it.”

“It was?” she asks softly, almost insecurely and making him narrow his eyes in thought.

She hasn’t told him anything, but he isn’t a fool. He means every word of what he says to her next, and says it in hopes that he can give her solace. “Aye. As hard as life has been, I wouldn't change anything because it’s how I got Alice.”

In a move that surprises him almost as much as it doesn’t, she moves as close to him as she can and tucks her head into his chest, just below his chin, and wraps her arm around his waist. “That’s a good point,” she murmurs into his sweatshirt.

“Are you alright, love?” he asks, accepting her into his embrace and letting his hand run along the length of her spine over her own sweatshirt. He reminds himself that he doesn’t truly know her, so he can’t assume that this isn’t like her, but it feels profound.

She nods against his chest, pulling herself impossibly closer as she seems to seek more warmth and a firmer embrace. “It’s weird,” she starts, her voice muffled. “I barely know you, but it feels like you're my friend.”

“I am your friend,” he agrees with a smile. “And you’re mine. I told you I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

“Of course not. I’ve been driving most of the way.”

She snorts, nuzzling her nose into the crook between his neck and his shoulder and squeezing around his waist. “Yeah, that’s why I’ve been puking nonstop.”

“Would you like to drive tomorrow, then?” he laughs.

“Sure.”

“Alright. We’ll need to leave quite early. Just another two days to go, I think.”

“Okay,” she yawns, falling asleep in his arms feeling, he hopes, as safe as he does.

~~~~

Tagging:

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor

#captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #captain swan au #modern au #cs ff au #Steal Away #steal away ff #cs fluff #cs angst #eventual smut #hurt/comfort

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smaidjor · 3 years

Text

i know they're losing (chapter 3)

Hello everyone! Welcome back to your favorite(/j) hot mess of a fic. Sorry this chapter took a little longer to post, I thought I'd give you all a bit of time to recover from that last one. Plus, I was working on Scott's POV of this (which will be posted soon, don't worry!) Anyways, enjoy the fic!

(Once again obligatory disclaimer this is characters not people, don't ship real people, etc.)

(Also a disclaimer that I am not a medical professional and any medicine portrayed in this fic is likely inaccurate. Do not follow any medical procedures used in this fic, as I did absolutely 0 research to confirm any of this.)

Chapter Title: I turn at last to paths that lead home

Chapter Wordcount: 3214

Content warnings: blood, canon-typical violence

AO3 Link

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Actual fic under the cut:

The next morning dawns bright, sunny, and with a looming sense of unease that Jimmy can’t seem to shake. Scott’s ring feels heavy on his finger despite the resolution they reached yesterday, and he shifts anxiously as he waits for his husband to wake up. The sun’s well over the horizon and Scott still isn’t up, which only makes him more anxious. Usually, Scott’s an early riser. Today, though, he’s sleeping like the dead, and the scar on his throat doesn’t help the effect. Something is wrong. Jimmy doesn’t know how or why he knows it, but something is wrong and why is Scott still sleeping?

Finally, Jimmy can’t take it any longer. “Scott? Scott, wake up,” he whispers.

Nothing.

“Scott! Wake up!”

His husband is still firmly unconscious, and Jimmy’s heart leaps into his throat as he begs one more time. “Scott? Please?”

Scott rolls over and blinks at him, thank god, his voice coming out thick with sleep. “Five more minutes, darling.”

“I think something’s wrong,” Jimmy urges. “It feels wrong. Really wrong.”

That gets his love to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. There are still dark circles visible under them, and Jimmy gets a rush of guilt for waking him. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s alright, go back to sleep.”

“No, no, I trust your gut.” Scott gets out of bed with only a slight stumble, sliding on his cloak in one graceful movement. “Let’s go look, and if it’s nothing then I’ll sleep more, okay?”

Jimmy nods, hurrying after him. “I have a really terrible feeling, Scott. Be careful, please.”

“I should be telling that to you.”

“Hey, I’ve gotten more careful!”

Scott laughs, looking more alive than he has in months, but quickly sobers again as they reach the front door. “You’re right, Jimmy. Something isn’t right.”

“I know, it feels awful!”

“Mhm.” Scott snatches up a frankly ridiculous axe from nearby, a shimmering pink monstrosity that’s twice the size of Jimmy’s head. “Stay behind me, just in case.”

The door creaks as it swings open, and the source of Jimmy’s unease becomes immediately clear.

Across the valley is the demon, standing next to Scott’s enchanting tower.

“That’s the demon!” Jimmy hisses, once he gets his racing heart under control. “Right there by the tower!”

Scott looks like someone just killed a cat in front of him, an odd sort of heartbreak flashing across his face before it’s replaced with determination. “That?”

“Yes!”

“Right. Okay. Jimmy, I need you to listen to exactly what I say right now. If I say get down, you get down. If I say run, you run and don’t look back no matter what you hear. Can you do that?”

Jimmy looks at the elf who very nearly broke his heart, and chooses to put that heart right back in Scott’s hands. “I trust you. If you say run, I’ll run.”

“Alright. Give me your engagement ring.”

“Wh-”

“Trust me. Please.”

Jimmy hands it over.

Scott slides it onto his finger. His hands are a little smaller than Jimmy’s, and it only fits on his right middle finger. Which would normally be cute, but right now Jimmy is just terrified. “Okay, Jimmy. I’m about to go out the front door, and when I do, I need you to go out the side door over there and run for the stables. When you get there, roll in the mud and then run for the village. Speed over stealth, corrupted elves track by smell and sound rather than sight.”

Jimmy nods.

“From there,” Scott continues, “I need you to track down an elf called Gilnar and tell them to lock down the kingdom and warn everyone of the danger. I also need you to tell them that Lord Smajor orders them to protect you.”

“What about you? Will you be okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

Jimmy knows Scott’s lying because Scott could never properly lie, not when it’s to Jimmy. He always looks away, no matter how steady his voice stays. Jimmy says nothing about it, but he grabs a spare sword and prays he’ll be quick enough to save Scott if it all goes downhill.

Scott hefts the axe. “Ready?”

Jimmy isn’t, but he nods. “Ready.”

Scott steps out the door, calling out something in some elven language that sounds like a challenge. At the same time, Jimmy bolts out the side door, sprinting for a low building which he thinks is the barn.

Somehow, he gets there without incident, and he throws himself into the mud without hesitation. The farrier gives him a deeply weird look, which Jimmy ignores in favor of sprinting for the village. The altitude means he’s out of breath by the time he gets there, hurrying inside the walls. The elves give him strange looks, a few seeming rather judgemental. Jimmy tries not to flush, remembering Scott’s instructions.

“Excuse me?” He asks the nearest elf. “I’m looking for uh, Gilnar?”

They stare him down, raising a single eyebrow. “For what reason?”

“Scott- Lord Smajor sent me.”

In the background, there’s a cry of pain, which thankfully sounds demonic rather than elven.

“Gilnar should be that way.”

“Thank you, uh, gentleperson!” Jimmy hurries that way, stopping another villager. “Are you Gilnar?”

The look he gets is even stranger. “Do I look like a captain of the guard to you? No. What do you want Gilnar for anyways?”

“Scott told me to find them.”

“Then that’s them over there,” the elf tells him, pointing out an incredibly short elf with neatly plaited brown hair.

“Thank you!”

Gilnar looks up at his approach, seemingly unbothered by the mud. “Lord Codfather, right? Scott sent ya?”

“He said to tell you to lock down the kingdom,” Jimmy reports faithfully. “He also said you should protect me, or something like that, but I don’t really need- I’ll be fine is the point.”

“Riiiiight. Calros!”

A tall elf appears behind them.

“Protect the codfather, Lord Scott’d be a bit put out if he died, I think. Alqualoth!” Another elf appears. “I need you to help me get everythin’ locked down.” With that, Gilnar hurries away, a few elves falling into formation behind them.

“So….this is awkward,” Calros, the tall elf, offers.

Jimmy ignores them in favor of running to the edge of the cliff the village is built on, trying to catch a glimpse of Scott. He’s rewarded only with the sight of his husband dueling a demon, which isn’t exactly what anyone wants to see at 8 o’clock in the morning. At least Scott doesn’t seem to be entirely overwhelmed, but the demon has far too much of the upper hand for Jimmy’s comfort.

“Whoa, whoa, let a girl catch up,” Calros yelps. She doesn’t seem very dignified for an elf, but Jimmy’s not very dignified for a human, so he understands. “So, uh...how’s Codland?”

Unfortunately for Calros and her well-meaning questions, at that moment, Scott starts screaming. It takes a moment for Jimmy to even register the sound as Scott’s voice; he’s never heard Scott scream before. It’s a high, broken noise, pure pain in every note as the demon pins Scott to the mountainside. Jimmy doesn’t think there’s anything he wouldn’t give to never have to hear that noise again, which is why he jumps the wall at the edge of the village.

“No, wait!” Calros yells.

Jimmy’s already gone, landing awkwardly on the other side. He hardly feels the pain of what’s surely a twisted ankle, sprinting for the scene of the fight. The sword flies into his hand, the gleam of enchantment shimmering bright. He doesn’t have a single second to think about what he’s doing as he opens his mouth to shout. “Hey, demon thing! Yeah, you! You’re ugly! And you probably smell bad!”

The being turns its head in a way that’s far too human for Jimmy’s comfort, and thank god, Scott stops screaming. “What did you say to me?” It hisses.

Jimmy’s heart is beating in his throat, palms sweaty as he scrapes together the few remaining bits of his courage. “I said you’re ugly! And you suck! Leave my husband alone!”

The demon loosens their hold, rage twisting their smile into something even more terrifying, and Scott backhands them across the face, kicking his way free. Jimmy watches as he struggles to his feet, the ring gleaming on his hand.

Scott cries something in some elven tongue, and the demon hisses.

He calls out another word, a command, and the ring glows with a light of its own as the demon is forced back, inch by inch. Finally, it flies backwards and vanishes entirely.

Scott sinks to his knees, cradling the hand with the ring on it, and Jimmy breaks into a run again.

“Scott! Scott!”

His husband looks up at him with haunted eyes, face bruised and battered, a little blood trickling down his brow. His teeth are bared, just a little sharp, and there’s something desperate about the way he whispers Jimmy’s name, his voice hoarse from screaming.

Jimmy kneels by him quickly, looking for any major injuries. “What’s wrong? Where- what’s hurt? I’ll fix it, I promise, I-” he’s cut off by Scott yanking him into a desperate hug, burying his face in Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Oh,” Jimmy says weakly. He wraps his arms around Scott in return, running a soothing hand up and down Scott’s back as he feels the elf tremble. “It’s alright, Scott, we’re alright.”

“Jimmy,” Scott says again. “Jimmy, I can’t.”

“I-”

“I want it to be over. I don’t want elves or nations or politics. I just want you.”

“I know, I know,” Jimmy soothes.

‘Why does it have to be me? It wasn’t supposed to be! It wasn’t supposed to be me!” Scott sounds almost angry, but the words quickly dissolve into incoherent sobs and fragments of sentences. “I- please- shouldn’t have- Jimmy. Jimmy.” He repeats Jimmy’s name over and over, hands clutching the fabric of Jimmy’s shirt, and Jimmy has never felt so helpless. All he can do is whisper empty comforts, kissing the top of Scott’s head and holding him close.

Elves have begun to surround them, varying looks of concern or disgust on their faces. Jimmy glares up at all of them, daring them to say something.

“Uh, milord?” Gilnar starts, and that’s the final straw.

“Give him a goddamn minute!” Jimmy snaps, rage bubbling up under his skin. “He just fought a demon for all of you, let the man rest! I know you’re all elves and you’re all- all elegant and composed or whatever, but you can’t expect someone to be perfect! We’re all human, you know!”

One of the elves gives him a look of disdain. “You are human, Codfather. We are not. Lord Smajor knew the responsibilities and difficulties of ruling.”

“He’s too young for this,” Jimmy thinks he hears someone mutter, but he’s too angry to bother paying attention.

“I- well I don’t think anyone could have expected a demon! And probably even less people’d be willing to fight one! Scott’s one of the bravest, kindest, smartest people I know, so lay off him, will you?”

“You know nothing of the affairs of elves,” the same elf sniffs.

Jimmy’s about to open his mouth and inform them that he knows about the affairs of being a decent person, for goodness sake, but he’s cut off by Scott raising his head, his sobs subsiding into ragged breathing. “It’s fine, Jimmy. They are correct, I do have responsibilities.”

“They can’t expect you to be perfect,” Jimmy argues, but there’s no dissuading Scott as he staggers to his feet.

“Gilnar, get the village out of lockdown and make sure people are aware of the threat of Xornoth. Celebear, search the library for any books on corruption of elves, and Lauriel, translate any you find that are not Sindarin into it. Elder council, I need research done on any rings of power that are strong enough to counteract Vilya to that degree, that will narrow down what Xornoth has. Now, the Codfather and I need to negotiate wool and fish trades,” Scott adds, grabbing Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy yelps, startled, as Scott drags him off with inhuman strength.

They make it up the hill and into Scott’s house before Scott slumps, collapsing into one of the kitchen chairs. “Well, fuck me to the End and back,” he groans.

“Are they always like that?” Jimmy asks, worried.

“Pretty much. Gilnar’s okay, just tough as shit, and so are Celebear and Lauriel, but...I wasn’t- well, I wasn’t meant to inherit Rivendell, and the Council of Elders takes every opportunity to remind me of that fact.”

“Oh. Who’s Xornoth?”

Scott laughs, a bitter, exhausted sound. “My twin, also known as the demon that’s been terrorizing you.”

At first, Jimmy thinks he’s misheard. “What?”

“My twin. My older sibling. The person who was supposed to inherit the throne of the elves.”

“What?”

Scott sighs. “Let me start from the beginning. My parents were two elven monarchs, one of the Sindar, and one of the Noldor. With other bloodlines mixed in, but the Sindar and Noldor is the important bit since those two groups haven’t always gotten along. Somewhere around fifty-five years ago, they started trying for kids. What they didn’t expect was that Xornoth and I are identical twins, only the fifth set of elven twins ever recorded.”

“Whoa.”

“Mhm. Xornoth was- is- technically the older one, who was always set to inherit the throne of the elves and unite our divided people. They were compared to Elrond, wise and powerful leader of another land named Rivendell far in the past, and I was Elros, his twin. Impulsive, snarky, human.” Scott closes his eyes, looking as if it pains him to talk about this. “Our parents died when we were both quite young, and we were brought up expecting Xornoth to take the throne as soon as they came of age. I spent my time hanging out with mortals, instead, getting involved in things like mcc and 3rd life.”

“Ohhh,” Jimmy says intelligently.

Scott nods tensely. “When I was the elven equivalent of seventeen or so, Xornoth gave me a ring. This ring, specifically,” he says, tapping Jimmy’s engagement ring. “Vilya, an elven ring of power. They told me to leave Rivendell and not return.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know at the time, but they were being corrupted by a ring of their own, not to mention their own desire for power.” Scott’s voice shakes a little, and Jimmy takes his hand in comfort. “I returned after coming of age while away to find that Xornoth had fled and I was now the heir of Rivendell. Which absolutely no one wanted.”

“Why not? You’re amazing!” Jimmy protests.

“Remember when I told you that I’m not a very elven elf? That. I’m too human for their tastes, spend too much of my time with humans.”

“Well, I think you’re wonderful.”

Scott squeezes his hand tight, a faint, fond smile creeping onto his face. “Thank you, Jimmy. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jimmy replies, and then something Scott said catches up with him. “Wait. Scott?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Did you give me an elven ring of power for an engagement ring?”

“….Maybe.”

Jimmy’s torn between laughter and outrage. “Me! You gave me, little old Jimmy Solidarity, an elven ring of power?”

“You’re the most precious thing in my life. I gave you everything I could offer.”

Jimmy flushes immediately, feeling his cheeks heat with the compliment. It’s not fair that Scott can make him lose all his remaining braincells with just a simple sentence, it really isn’t! “Stop that!”

“Stop what?” Scott asks innocently.

“Saying that stuff and giving me that look, you know what I mean! That soft one that- that makes me all blushy and stuttery!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s smirking. He definitely knows exactly what he’s doing, and Jimmy would hate him for it if he was even capable of hating Scott.

“I’m trying to scold you for giving me a ring of power that’s super important, stop- stop flirting, for goodness sake!”

“You’re hot when you’re flustered, though.” The charming words would be a lot more effective if Scott didn’t also choose that moment to try and wipe the blood off his forehead, only succeeding in smearing blood everywhere and reminding Jimmy to be worried about him.

“Let me get that,” Jimmy offers, looking around for a rag. Scott patiently lets him fuss, and Jimmy dabs at the cut with a wet rag and bandages it carefully. He moves on to cleaning out smaller cuts and scrapes, then the bruises, handing Scott some ice to put on the largest ones. Even then, he’s not fully satisfied until he makes Scott count backward from 100 to prove he hasn’t hit his head too hard.

“Ninety-two, ninety-one, I swear I’m fine, Jimmy, ninety, eighty-nine, eighty-eight, eighty-seven, I literally explained elven rings of power to you, eighty-six, eight-five, can I stop counting now?”

“No.”

“Jimmyyyyyyyy,” Scott whines.

“Just a bit more? For me?” It’s a dirty trick, but Jimmy gives him the puppy dog eyes that he knows Scott can’t say no to.

He’s rewarded with a long-suffering sigh and “Fine. Eighty-four, eighty-three, eighty-two…”

Jimmy makes him count all the way down to seventy and then multiply together thirteen and twelve before he’s satisfied, ignoring Scott’s complaining about having to do math so early in the morning.

“I can’t believe my own husband made me do math.”

Jimmy laughs and bops him on the nose. “I’ll make breakfast to make up for it?”

“You better!” Scott says, but he’s smiling too.

Jimmy makes them both pancakes, firmly ignoring the lingering fear from the demon attack, not to mention all the revelations from this morning. Those are problems for future Jimmy. Present Jimmy is going to scold his husband for sneaking bits of pancake batter (“It doesn’t even taste good, Scott!”) and drink hot chocolate in a beautiful little kitchen with the love of his life. None of that demon nonsense, no thank you. Just hot chocolate and pancakes and the sound of Scott’s laughter as he teases Jimmy about smelling like fish. Which is a perfectly fine smell, thank you very much, Scott, why are you laughing?

Every so often, he pauses and admires the bracelet that’s still on his wrist, running his fingers over the elegantly shaped flowers. This must have taken Scott so long to make, and he did it all for Jimmy. He gave Jimmy a ring of power, for goodness sake! Jimmy doesn’t think he’ll ever be over the thrill of how it feels to be so loved and to know it, too. To know Scott loved him back in 3rd life and loves him now and will love him for the rest of Jimmy’s mortal lifespan and beyond. He can’t quite wrap his head around it, honestly, but it’s not a bad thing, not at all. How could having Scott in his life ever be a bad thing? He thinks- knows, as well as he knows his own self- that whatever happens next, he and Scott can face it together.

#scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #empires smp #my writing

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war--lords · 4 years

Text

sorry i’ve been gone for so long i have a full-time job and other hobbies that i am deeply obsessed with... here have some fluff

Female pronouns for Reader

Fact one: In the past three days, Nobunaga can’t find you in the places you frequent around the castle, and at the end of the day, finds the tenshu empty. By dusk you are usually in his room, but these nights he finds you coming back after him. “Oh, just taking care of some stuff,” you would say.

Fact two: He misses you.

Perhaps it isn’t in his character to admit that so openly to you, what with his moniker being the “Devil King” and all, but he knows you know better—honesty has always been a key in your relationship, and it was the fact that he knew you were from 500 years in the future that drew him closer to you. Yes, he’ll tell you he misses you, but not before dealing out the proper punishment for failing to pay attention to him.

(Maybe he’s not being entirely honest after all, because he calls it punishment even when the both of you enjoy it. And as much as you’d squirm and reprimand him for teasing you so...)

Enough, he chides himself mentally. The lack of quality time with you has driven his mind to rely on fantasy, but that needs to change today. Today, he declares independence from the stack of paperwork on his desk and dedicates his working hours to looking for you—within the castle grounds or in town, if he must. He can already hear Hideyoshi scolding him at the back of his mind and scoffs.

As if that could stop him.

Nobunaga’s first stop is the hall where the seamstresses usually work.

“She left but moments ago, my lord,” says one of the elderly, working to get her thread in the eye of the needle. “To the kitchen, said she needed help to procure some food items.”

“Speaking of, she did the same yesterday. And the day before, if I remember correctly,” another seamstress chimes in. “And it’s around this time too.”

“I wonder if she’s also helping out there. Our lady has always been so eager to assist!”

Thanking the ladies for the information, Nobunaga exits the hall to make his way to the kitchen, leaving the staff giggling and cooing at how sweet the two of them are together.

At an hour so close to lunch, the castle kitchen is teeming with life. Nobunaga’s face is hit with the aromatic smells of various dishes—it seems they’re about to be served mushroom and meat stew, a season-appropriate dish—as well as smoke and the sounds of commanding voices and hurried footsteps carrying the orders out. A cooking battlefield.

Blue enters his peripheral and he turns to look at a corner. Masamune is taste-testing something out of an iron pot simmering atop a fire, offering some of his comments to the chef standing next to him before sprinkling in some other ingredients into the pot.

“Lord Nobunaga,” Masamune says, grinning at the Oda patriarch’s approach. The chef standing next to him looks surprised at the very least, echoing the greeting with a deep bow. Masamune swiftly swipes a sample of the brewing broth of a wooden spoon and offers it to him with a “careful, it’s hot”.

Nobunaga holds the spoon in his hand and sips, nodding his approval. “I was told I could find ___________ here.”

“The lass? Right, she was here.”

Nobunaga clicks his tongue at the use of past tense.

“Was she helping out with lunch preparations?”

Masamune shakes his head, adding what seems to be a pinch more salt into the pot. “Asked for some leftovers, actually—last night’s steamed fish. Put it in a neat little box and was gone as quickly as she arrived.”

“She asked for her food to be packed, as well.” The chef next to Masamune supplies.

Was she going somewhere? Nobunaga muses, deep in thought. His lover might be perplexing, but sharp as he is, he has some sort of clue as to what is happening.

“I see. Did anyone see which way she was heading?”

Another young man chopping up some scallions in his work station put his knife down and pointed to the right of the kitchen entrance. “To the garden thereabouts, perhaps, my lord,” he answers, before he dutifully goes back to his job.

“Thank you. In that case I shall have my food to go as well.”

“Right away, my lord!”

Masamune chuckles. “Didn’t know you guys like playing cat and mouse.”

Something clicks in Nobunaga’s mind. That had to be it.

“Yes, well, I didn’t know either,” comes his offhanded response, the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

When he finally finds you, you are sitting under a maple tree in the freshly trimmed garden, the red of autumn forming a beautiful canopy above you. He sees a lacquered lunchbox in your hand, and in front of you, just at arm’s length, is another box...

...being devoured wholeheartedly by three kittens of varying coats.

“There you are,” he says as he approaches. You look startled for a split second, perhaps associating the gardens with a place that nobody ever frequents, before the expression melts into the very smile he’s smitten with.

“Nobunaga!” You look pleased with a tinge of confusion. “How rare of you to dine outside.”

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he confesses as he sits down next to you, not minding the grass on his kimono and haori, “and upon finding out that you’ve decided to eat out, I decided to join you.”

“I’m sorry, did you come look for me in the kitchen?”

“And the seamstresses’ hall before that.”

You look extremely apologetic he almost feels bad. He leans forward. You get the message and peck him on the lips.

“Sorry.”

“One more, and then you’re forgiven.”

“Mm, okay,” you murmur, smiling into the kiss, your lunchbox forgotten despite holding it in your hands. This one lasts longer, what with your lover’s hand at the back of your head, ordering you to stay, and when he swipes his tongue on your bottom lip you feel the beginnings of a moan bubbling at the top of your throat—oh, you’re in public—

He’s the first to pull away, a devious smirk on his face. “Your food will grow cold.”

Pouting, you begrudgingly start eating again.

“So this is where you’ve been the past few days?” He asks, unraveling the cloth that wraps his food container while staring at three fuzzy rumps an arm’s length away. The kittens, all of which are variants of white, orange, and black, look ravenous, not even caring that another person has entered the vicinity. He spots the remnants of steamed fish in the box.

“Yes,” you answer, all smiles as you look at the kittens, and then once more that expression morphs into a realization that you’ve been spending less time with him, which perfectly explains him seeking you out. “Oh, Nobu, I didn’t mean to.”

He begins eating his meal. “You could have told me.”

“Well, yes, but I felt like that would’ve finalized my attachment to them,” you say, finishing your meal (you started earlier, after all). “I’ve been watching them and waiting for their mother to perhaps come back, but it’s been three days...”

One of the kittens, the one with orange and black on the tips of its ears, comes hobbling at you with little legs, meowing in thanks. Your smile turns to a chuckle when it climbs into your lap, insistently pawing and leaning its head into your palm when you reach to pet it.

He watches as you pet it gently, the kitten seemingly wanting more scratches and strokes each time that you have to concede. A wry smile takes over his face as he continues with his meal. “Perhaps its mother left them here knowing they will be well cared for.”

You blink in surprise. “Nobunaga, are you saying we can—”

“No.”

“Why?” you whine.

“I’m smart enough not to invite any competition for your attention within my quarters.”

Understanding dawns upon you and you find your arms around his shoulders, kissing his neck repeatedly so as to not disturb his meal. The poor man... getting jealous over some kittens because you’ve been looking after them for the last few days. When you’ve administered the last kiss on his throat, hoping to appease him, you look up to see his eyes boring into yours, a planning smile on his face. You catch on, and smile back, hoping to look at least half as alluring as he.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Good,” he replies curtly. “When that happens... I’ll make sure it’ll be impossible for you to think about anything else.”

The incessant meowing, cute as they are, dissolves the sexual tension between the two of you, as another kitten makes its way bravely on top of Nobunaga’s calf, its beady eyes making it look like it’s pleading. Good sir? Have you come to feed us, too?

You see a softness in Nobunaga’s eyes that indicates he’s finally understood what you felt. The man uses his chopsticks to fish out a piece of meat and hovers it right in front of the kitten’s face, allowing the tiny feline to snatch it out of the utensil’s grasp and straight into its mouth.

“The staff will be informed of these little ones and help take care of them,” he declares, “of course you are free to do so as well.” Just don’t neglect me again, you can hear that last unspoken bit through the way he gazes at you. You smile at him gratefully and sigh, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. When else do you get to see Nobunaga acting all soft and playing with kittens?

Leaning forward again, you kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you.”

He brushes your lip with his thumb and you suppress a shiver down your spine—now is hardly the time to think of that. You lean your head on his shoulder.

“Shall we name them?”

(Haguro flies in the scene five minutes later, scaring the kittens initially, but it’s clear that much like his owner, he’s just jealous and wants some pets.)

#nobunaga #oda nobunaga #nobunaga x reader #ikemen sengoku #reader insert #scenario #imagine #imagines #ikesen #cybird #fluff #female reader #fem reader

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fleetwoodmactshirt · 4 years

Text

roadtrip headcanons (requested)

i think they’d all have a different vibe and a different energy. i didn’t really rank them best to worst, i just explored what i think the vibe of a road trip with each of them would be like. i also let loose and slipped in some super self-indulgent personal hcs/one-shot au idea that is a WiP about ezra as an intriguing handsome stranger you encounter on your solo cross-country road trip. as a treat. s/o to @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa for suggesting whiskey’s fav song.

frankie morales is the road trip king. no matter how spontaneous, frankie can whip a road trip plan together smoothly. he’s got a spacious truck, he’s got a cooler, he’s got the coziest blankets, he’s got the travel pillow, he’s got the camping gear, he knows the best scenic routes, he’s got the best classic tunes, he’s got the best snacks. he makes homemade sandwiches and burritos, wraps them tightly in tin foil. he heats up frozen pizzas, cuts them into slices. he stores it all in the cooler for lunches. when the supply runs out, you gorge yourselves on burgers and fries at roadside diners. but every morning he’ll stop in the nearest town to buy some apples, or some fresh fruit/veg of some kind. if they’re ripe he’ll get avocados that he’ll cut in half for you both to scoop out with a spoon to eat plain while you sit together in the bed of his truck in the shade of a lake you’ve stopped at for the afternoon. but he surprises you with your favourite junk food and snacks. he lets you borrow his cap if the sun is in your eyes; he’s got a spare, more threadbare one in the glove box. he’s low key done the research on the best places for stargazing; you lie back nestled together under a blanket, in the bed of his truck, gazing upwards; you listen as he describes the constellations, tracing them out with his finger.

max phillips. business road trips but max’s...condition necessitates driving at night only. liminal spaces. driving through the night, sleeping in business hotel rooms during the day, dust motes floating in the thin streams of sunlight peeking through the cracks in the curtains you’ve pulled shut. you see incredible sunsets and sunrises from the highway. you also see some undeniably weird shit late at night on road trips with max. he watches you eat breakfast food at 2 am in neon lit 24/7 diners. while on the road he passes you lots of candy throughout the night; he stocks up from the hotel vending machines. but no matter how much caffeine and sugar he tries to fuel you with, sometimes you’re lulled to sleep by the peacefulness. you nestle your head against max’s shoulder; it’s not the most comfortable position to drive in but he can’t bring himself to readjust and shift away from you. solitary brightly lit gas stations that are like an oasis of light breaking the pitch darkness. the two of you feel utterly alone sometimes; the world has shrunk down to only you, max, in this car, driving along this empty, dark stretch of road, a blush of purple on the edge of the horizon signalling the dawn.

based on how oberyn canonically took his daughters to explore an abandoned holdfast, i think his road trip energy would be all about the journey and not the destination. road trips with oberyn and ellaria would be meandering and adventurous. sometimes you’re riding shotgun and sometimes you’re sitting in the backseat with ellaria laid out and napping beside you, sun hat dipped down covering her eyes, her long legs stretched across your lap. if the three of you come across a motel you enjoy he’ll feel no urgency to leave; the days blur together and soon you’ve spent a week soaking up sun by the pool and sleeping in late entangled together in a pile of limbs after long passionate nights. day by day you may not even travel very far; he wants to stop and explore. hike amidst rock formations, swim in hot springs, explore the local museums; whatever catches his or your fancy. if he sees a billboard on the side of the road advertising local caves, or a petrified forest, or hears rumour of nearby ghost town that’s all but disappeared off the map, you’ll suddenly find yourselves veering off down small country roads, hours from the highway, seeking out pleasure, adventure, mystery.

marcus has a hilton rewards card so you’re staying at hilton garden inns every night. clean sheets. comfortable beds. complimentary breakfast. it’s very pleasant. middle class fancy. holds out his hand for you to drop some snacks into his palm so he can remain focused on the road while you’re both munching. let’s you curate the spotify playlists.

roadtrips with javier are always last minute decisions to just take off, head to a gorgeous but isolated beach you’d heard about that’s a few days from here. he doesn’t get many opportunities for long stretches of time off, so when he does you don’t hesitate. you might not even wait for a rational time to leave. it’s midnight and you guys just speed off into the darkness. you just threw some essentials into a bag, jumped in his jeep, and booked it. you gotta buy toothpaste and toothbrushes at a gas station, and you borrow javi’s deodorant stick because you forgot yours. greasy fast food containers, half-empty cigarette packs, and snack wrappers litter the dashboard. his aviators perched on his nose, one hand resting on the wheel, the other curled around your thigh, javi on a road trip is relaxed. he’s leaving all his burdens, his worries, everything weighing on his chest, all of it, behind him. literally, the more distance you guys put between yourselves and where you were, the more uplifted his spirits. when your favourite song comes on the radio, and you’re shimmying in your seat, he can’t keep his eyes off you, his gaze flicking between you and the road. he sings along under his breath, bobbing his head almost imperceptibly and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, a slow smile spreading across his face.

whiskey pulls up to your house at 5 am on the dot, the obnoxious custom sound of the horn of his bronco rattling the windows and scaring the birds out of the trees lining the street. country music jams ONLY. you argue over his taste in music; does he enjoy being a walking cliche? he will not accept any song that doesn’t have a twang to it. he’d be an aux cord hog if he knew what an aux cord even was. so much for your favourite spotify road trip playlists. “spot fly? spot what fly, where?” still has mixtapes he made himself, the same ones he’s been playing since forever. forces you listen to all his favourite songs, the ones he knows all the words to, while he obnoxiously sings along and ignores your eye-rolling. but he doesn’t ignore how your feet start tapping absentmindedly to toby keith’s ‘whiskey girl’. the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk that quickly becomes a broad grin as he reaches over to smack your thigh, laughing he’ll make a country girl of you yet. startled out of your daze, you vehemently deny you weren’t enjoying the song, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. he insists he knows the best places to stop, which means you always end up driving far off the highway to some little mom and pop diner that has killer apple pie for lunch. in the evenings you always end up in some honky-tonk bar that’s joined to a motel and yes, there’s line dancing, and yes he manages to twist your arm and convince you to join in.

ezra…..as a man who’s floated from planet to planet, following jobs and leads, for the better part of his life, he’s found himself smooth-talking his way into being a lot of people’s unexpected travel companion out of necessity over the years. road trip ezra is on the run from someone or something; maybe the law, maybe not. all you know is this beautiful, mysterious stranger you met under dubious circumstances somehow, with his roguish grin and drawling accent, his kind eyes and eloquence, convinced you to let him ride along with you. you ran into him in the grungy diner attached to an even grungier motel in some desolate nowhere town. you recognized him; he’s unmistakably the lone figure on the side of the dusty road, his thumb stuck out, that you drove past yesterday. you’d driven past but that blonde streak had been unmissable and you won’t admit it but you’d felt his gaze on you long after you’d left him in the dust. ezra’s endless chatter on the road isn’t unwelcome; he knows seemingly innumerable facts about local folklore, flora, and fauna, and he never seems to be depleted of stories. you’d made the conscious and contrary decision to make this cross-country road trip alone, rebelling against a lot of cautionary advice, but somewhere along the way loneliness had creeped in under your skin and settled there. this handsome stranger may have an edge of danger to him but later when he’s bringing you to heights of ecstasy in a motel room you won’t give a damn.

maxwell lord flies everywhere in a private jet. the worst.

din djarin’s entire life is basically one long never-ending road trip. but in space. i figure earth-bound din on a conventional road trip would basically be how we see him: no nonsense. no frivolities. no music; travels in total silence. gets where he needs to go. stops for soup, as needed. stops for repairs, as needed. stops to work an odd job with some really sketchy people for some gas money, as needed. din’s road trip energy would be like that john mulaney joke. you’d see the mcdonalds sign lit up and shining in the distance and plead for him to stop so he’d pull into the drive-thru, order one black coffee and keep driving. except if you’ve got the baby with you; he gets a chicken nugget happy meal for the kid. he’s a good papa! and of course you’d get whatever you wanted too, he provides and cares for his loved ones after all.

SEND ME ANY QUESTIONS/HC PROMPTS/REQUESTS YOU HAVE

#pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x reader #ezra prospect x reader #frankie morales x reader #agent whiskey x reader #oberyn martell x reader #frankie morales headcanons #javier pena headcanons #ezra headcanons #agent whiskey headcanons #oberyn martell headcanons #all the boys headcanons #headcanon requests #fleetwood writes

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angelikook · 4 years

Text

Seokjin As Your Brother

He always reminds you that he's the older one.

Always.

"Jin, I'm bored. Let's go to the movies."

"What are we going to watch?"

"I don't know. We'll see."

When you actually get to the movies and choose one to watch, he just basically turns down every movie you want to watch.

"Let's watch this one!"

"That's rated R! You're too young."

"I'm over 18, Jin."

"You're still too young. Believe me, I'm older than you."

"Okay then. What about that one?"

"Too much blood."

"That one?"

"It's a horror movie. I can't have you crying inside."

"Fine. What are we watching then?"

"This one!"

He chose a kid's movie.

"I'm not a kid, Jin."

"Come on. It'll be fun."

"Whatever."

Overprotective of you.

Especially when you're around the maknaes.

Since your age is closer to theirs.

"Jin, can I come with you to work?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You'll just mess around with the boys."

"But you also mess around with them."

It feels like he's trying to stop you from having fun.

But he only cares about you and doesn't want you to get hurt.

Because he knows how rough the maknae line is when it comes to playing games.

"Why don't you let her come with us?" Namjoon asks him one day.

"I'm scared they'll accidentally hurt her."

"Just bring her with us. You can still watch over her since we'll all be in the same room."

After some persuasion by Namjoon, he finally agrees.

"Y/n, you can't leave the room, okay? Or else you'll get lost."

"But if I want to go to the restroom?"

"I'll show you the way. Just don't go alone."

"I won't. I'll just ask Jungkookie."

"No! No Jungkookie."

"But I don't want to bother you."

"Although you're the uglier sibling, you'll never be a bother."

He's the reason you'll never find a boyfriend.

Every time you bring a boy into the house, he'll go ballistic.

Even though your parents are cool with it.

"Mom, Y/n is with a boy in the living room."

"That's her study partner, Jin."

"But he's a boy? In our house? With Y/n?"

"So what, Jin? She's allowed to have friends, too. Even if they're dating, she's old enough to have a boyfriend."

"Absolutely not! She can't be dating before I do."

In the end, he just scares the boy by interrogating him.

"What are you guys talking about?"

"We're studying, Jin. Go away."

"I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to your boy over here."

"I don't care. Just go away."

But he doesn't budge.

"Why are you here, boy?"

"Where do you live?"

"Do you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend, if you also swing that way?"

And when the boy leaves, Jin only grins in victory.

"Jin, the hell?! I was just trying to study."

"You can study with me."

"I don't want to. You might be the better looking one, but I'm the brain."

Annoying you. Relentlessly.

By waking you up in the crack of dawn on a Saturday.

Hitting you with pillows if you ever walk into his room.

Purposely hiding your phone charger.

"Jin, come on! I know you have my charger."

While suppressing his laugh, he says, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Jin!"

When it comes to food, he never lets you enter the kitchen.

Ever.

"Don't come to my kitchen!"

"I'm hungry."

"Just order something."

"I don't want to. I want to make food."

You try to enter again.

But he stopped you.

"No. Just tell me what you want to eat. I can't have you destroying my kitchen."

Picking you up from school.

It sucks, though, since the girls on your campus ogles at him.

"Hey, Y/n. How's your class?"

You instantly pushed him back to the car.

"Can you not pick me up?" you hissed.

"Aren't you happy I'm back from tour? Now I can annoy you again."

"Not when girls are checking you out. Or have you forgotten that you're famous?!"

"Nah, they don't know it's me."

"You just wore sunglasses! People still can tell you're THE Kim Seokjin."

"Fine. If you don't want me to pick you up, just tell me next time."

"You didn't even tell me you were going to pick me up!"

When you're sick, he's the one taking care of you since your parents are working.

"You look pale. Did you even sleep?"

"I couldn't sleep last night."

He checks your temperature.

"OMG we need to go to the hospital. Let's go."

"It's just a small fever, Jin."

"Nope. We need to go get it checked."

"We can just go to the doctor."

"But it takes too long. Let's just go to the ER."

Jin wins and drives you to the hospital.

Turns out, he was just overreacting.

You only have a mild fever that'll go away on its own.

"I told you, Jin. I'm okay," you say in the car.

"Shh, just rest. I'll wake you up when we arrive home."

When you're home, he never wants you to leave your room.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm bored. I want to watch TV."

"Absolutely not. Go back to your room. You need to rest."

"I've rested enough."

"Not enough in my opinion."

"But it's just mild fever."

"And I'm not handsome. Now stop lying."

"I'm not lying. The doctor said so."

"I don't buy it. Go back to your room yourself or I'll lock you inside your room."

And of course he wins again.

"You're so annoying. I hope you know that."

But when he's on tour, he misses you more than his other friends at home.

So he facetimes you everyday.

Every. Single. Day.

"Wow, Y/n, you look even uglier than yesterday. Did you cry? What happened?"

"My best friend backstabbed me."

Then you sob again.

He covers his ears.

"Stop it. You sound like a hiccuping cow when you cry."

"Cows don't hiccup."

"What do you mean? You can hiccup and you're a cow."

You can't help but giggle at his words.

"I'm not a cow."

"Yes you are. You ate all my food."

"You were on tour and they were going bad."

"I don't care. Don't eat my food."

"Fine. I won't. Gosh, you're irritating."

When he's on tour and you have no school, he flies you to wherever city he's in.

Because he wants you to see his work, Armys, and the beauty of the city.

Immediately hugs you when he sees you at the airport.

"20 hours of flight don't look good on you."

"Geez, thanks."

Then he whispers in your ear, "Don't you dare get closer to the boys."

"They're my friends, too."

"Being friends doesn't mean you have to get close to them."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know. But it sure sounded a lot cooler in my head."

"You're weird."

"And you're this weirdo's sister."

"That's why I think you're adopted. There's no way I have a weird bro if I'm not weird."

"There's no way this handsome face is adopted."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Neither do you."

Despite all the craziness he puts you through, he lowkey loves you more than anyone.

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andimlonely · 5 years

Text

The Best Kind of Gift

BNHA; Momo Yaoyorozu x f!reader | Feeling guilty after she buys you an expensive new backpack, you confront Momo about her frequently spending money on you.

✿ Fluff

A/N: This is the first BNHA piece I’m publishing and I really like how it turned out! I might write something similar for Todoroki because the concept suits him, hehe. Anyway, I hope you like it! (art by me)

It started with a simple remark.

“Wow, (f/n), I like your new backpack,” Mina smiles as she stands over you while you loop the laces of your shoe together.

You return your friend’s smile. “Thanks, Mina.”

“It’s so stylish,” she chirps, “How’d you afford it? That brand is pretty expensive, isn’t it?”

“Oh, um, it was a gift,” you admit, the lavishness of the item really dawning on you like it did when you first received it, “From Momo.”

Her mouth falls open, dark eyes like saucers full of ink, “Really?? Wish she’d buy me something cute like that. Still, that was super nice of her!”

“Y-yeah, I know, right?”

It wasn’t that you hadn’t noticed your best friend’s generosity towards you before then; in fact, you were well aware of Momo’s very.. different spending habits the moment you two started becoming close and spending more time together.

Maybe you had become a little too used to her frequently buying things for you, or paying for most of the things you do together regardless of if you asked her to or not, but Mina’s innocent comments brought you back to reality. Since that exchange this morning, all you can think about is how guilty you feel for letting her, well, spoil you.

But it isn’t as if you had never brought it up before! Every time it was the same,

“Nonsense, (y/n). Sometimes it’s worth paying more to ensure quality,” she would assure you with a conviction that convinced you only sometimes.

If it wasn’t that, she told you, with a more lighthearted tone, “Don’t worry about it. It’s no trouble at all.”

You had never known someone who so frequently treated you to things before, which is partially to blame for why you’ve come to accept this habit of hers. Of course it feels nice to receive so much, but it’s more to you than the temporary joy of getting something you wanted. Every time she offers you something, whether it’s as small as a simple ramen lunch or as expensive as a new backpack from that cute boutique a few blocks away, you feel kind of.. special.

Despite her wealth, Momo isn’t very frivolous at all. She certainly spends more than the average student in your class, but she’s far from careless with her money and only rarely splurges on clothes or accessories, or anything she doesn’t need. Of course, she’s used to finer things, so there are foods or miscellaneous necessities she buys that could easily be replaced by a more cost-effective version or brand, but even then she’s still budgeting herself - she just has a lot more wiggle room than you, and most of the other people in your class.

The only times she seems to forget her financial responsibility is when she’s out with you, and you inevitably point out how cute some plushy is, or how much you like that skirt, with no motive but to acknowledge the things that catch your eye. Sometimes all it takes is a prolonged look at an item and she’s offering to get it for you. And while most times you’re able to refuse with no problem, there are times when your raven-haired best friend won’t hear of it. Admittedly, you’re guilty of not even protesting sometimes too.

So despite your appreciation, your talk with Mina this morning erased all the normalcy of Momo’s excessive generosity, and since then, you’ve been working up the nerve to talk to her about it. Only this time, you won’t let her take no for an answer; you’re done being selfish.

Luckily for you, the final exam paper has been handed in and Aizawa has officially dismissed your class for the day. While you pack up your pencils and eraser, Momo appears at your side, a bright smile painted on her lips.

“So (y/n), how are you feeling? Do you think our study session paid off?”

“I do, there was really only one question I struggled with,” you reply contentedly, slinging your bag - this cursed new backpack that you feel guilty just looking at - over your shoulder.

Your taller friend clasps her hands, “That’s wonderful! See, I told you it would be worth reviewing our notes.”

The two of you exit the classroom together after bidding your classmates a quick bye and see you later, discussing the questions you were most confident about your answers to as you make your way off campus and into the busy streets.

Friday afternoons are almost always reserved for strolling through town with your friends for awhile, usually with Mina or Jirou, but Momo often tags along too when she isn’t too busy. Today neither of the other girls were available, and usually that wouldn’t have bothered you because you always have fun alone with Momo, but today it gives you no excuse not to confront her spending habit.

“Oh, (y/n), didn’t you mention yesterday that you could go for a smoothie? We should go buy one.”

“Ah, did I?,” you chuckle nervously, “I don’t remember, but I’m okay! I had a big lunch, so..”

She chuckles, “You’re so forgetful. But alright, if you say so. If you don’t mind, there was somewhere specific I wanted to visit today.”

“Oh? Where to?”

“It’s a secret,” she smiles, a delicate finger to her lips.

Your head tilted, you quirk a brow. “You have secrets, Momo? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Of course, (y/n). There’s always more than what meets the eye.”

You continue to pass through the lively streets, lined with the shops you tend to visit from time to time, eyes shining as you listen to your friend animatedly recount a story about her somewhat chaotic recent family function. At first you were following it completely, but somewhere along the way her words started to fade away, her face the only thing you register. She doesn't seem to notice though.

“Oh, it’s that store you really like,” she points, “Would you like to go take a look inside?”

The word flies from your lips faster, and more loudly, than you intended. “No!”

Momo blinks, to which you continue sheepishly, “I mean.. I went there with Mina the other day, so there’s not much to see.”

“Then maybe you’d like to visit the Sanrio store?,” she suggests.

“Mm, not today.”

The taller female’s expression dims, but she recovers slightly. “Is there anywhere you do want to go?”

Now is the perfect time to slip in your confrontation. But you just aren’t sure how to work it in so that it sounds casual. After all, you don’t want to come off as ungrateful, or anything, and you don’t want to hurt her feelings.

“Not in particular. I just wanted to take a walk mostly.”

She had noticed you seemed distracted today, so much so that she worried your concentration during the exam would be hindered. And now, with you not seeming very interested in going places you enjoy frequenting, it’s certain there’s something on your mind.

A minute of silence passes, the only words in the air from the people you pass by, before Momo speaks up. “(y/n), is something wrong? Are you not feeling well?”

It’s no use being indirect or dismissing it now. You might not have another chance as opportune as this one to say it.

“No.. It’s just, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

She stops walking, prompting you to do the same and stand with her at the corner of a gift shop, shaded by the awning that hangs from its facade. It felt less personal to keep walking along while you shared your concerns; she wants to speak face to face.

“What is it?”

“Well.. I’ve been thinking about.. how you always buy me things,” you state awkwardly.

Momo seems completely puzzled by your vague statement. “Yes?”

You had hoped that alone would somehow be enough for her to guess what you were hinting at, but you have to accept that there’s no way around explicitly telling her. ‘How can I put this?…’

“Momo, you buy me things too often and I feel bad and guilty, and I should have refused you more but I’m selfish sometimes,” you blurt, the words fleeing from your lips like they’re afraid to be spoken any later. For all the time your mind was consumed with expressing this to her today, it came out a lot more tactlessly than you wanted it to.

Your eyes are glued to the ground. You can’t bring yourself to look up, partially because of how poorly you expressed yourself and partially because you’re afraid of her reaction.

“I think I understand.”

Your head shoots up, “You do?”

Her eyebrows tugged upwards, she nods, “You feel offended by me constantly buying gifts for you. I didn’t mean to insinuate you couldn’t afford them yourself, although realistically you couldn’t afford to factor some of them in due to your budget, but I digress. I’m sorry I offended you, (y/n).”

Offended?!

A groan resounds in your mind as she misunderstands you. You were never offended by her offers, and you’re not even offended by her pretty directly calling you broke, because it’s just the objective truth, sadly. At least she said it politely.

“No, Momo, it’s not that.. I meant that I can’t accept you buying me things anymore. You spend too much on me, and the things we do together, and I feel really guilty for being so selfish, especially since I can only afford to do the same every now and then. It isn’t your fault I feel guilty, of course - it’s mine. I just want you to know that you don’t need to buy me anything anymore.”

Finally confessing this washes a wave of relief over you, until her lips falter and your chest is wracked with guilt. Maybe you should have put it more gently?

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her head bowed slightly. Silky strands of her black fringe hang over her right eye as she smiles bittersweetly. “To be honest, I hadn’t even realized I did that until not too long ago. It always felt natural to me. To me, getting gifts for people you care about is just something you do, to express affection, and I don't really need to think about it, because I know it makes others happy."

She smiles, almost sadly, "I never felt like you expected anything from me. So I didn't mind buying things for you. I know that you truly like me, and I.. wanted to express the same to you, just differently."

Momo speaks from the remembrance of painful memories, being no stranger to being taken advantage of or lied to only to find out she was wanted only for her family’s money. For every genuine friendship she had, there were about 5 that were short-lived and one-sided instead. People crafting smiles and lacing their words with bold admiration that unraveled the moment she was away from them.

"Momo.."

Her words send your heart fluttering. You can fully understand where she's coming from, not that you didn’t have any idea before.

"But, (y/n), I should be honest with you.. I’ve been withholding my true feelings for you, ones I couldn’t work up the confidence to just tell you. So I used those gifts instead, because it was less intimidating to me.”

“True feelings?,” you murmur, your heart pounding violently against your chest. Does she mean --? Is she really saying..?

The moment of truth. Pink tinges her face as she braces herself to finally confess to you. With a tilt of her head, onyx irises shining and sincere, the words flutter from her lips like newborn butterflies, lovely and nervous as they dance through the air.

“(y/n), I love you.”

You press your trembling hands to your chest as it bursts with an almost painful joy, only pulled from the daze by the realization that she could have meant it platonically. But you hope she didn’t, you pray she didn’t. “You mean, as more than a friend?”

Everyone else seems to fade away, her heartbeat the only thing that reminds her that time is only passing slowly in her mind. “Yes.”

“Momo,” you breathe, “I love you, too.”

Like magnets, your mutual confession draws you together in a tight embrace, a giggle bubbling up from your chest. You stay locked in her arms a little longer, until she pulls away, smiling sheepishly.

“I guess this isn’t the best timing, but I actually have something for you.”

You give her a pout, eyes incredulous as she produces a long and thin black box from her messenger bag. “Momo!”

Just because you’re aware of each other’s feelings now doesn’t mean your point from before is nullified. If anything, she should feel less inclined to give you presents because you know she loves you without them.

“Don’t worry, this didn’t cost me anything. I made it myself.”

You open the box to reveal a delicate silver chain and locket, engraved beautifully with intricate swirls and flowers. Every moment spent researching its composition is worth it as she watches you marvel at the necklace.

“It’s so beautiful.. How long did it take you to figure this out?”

The girl waves her hand dismissively. It may have taken her hours, but you didn’t need to fret over that. “It wasn’t nearly as difficult as it seems. It was supposed to be a Valentine present, but I didn’t finish in time. Do you like it?”

“Of course I do! I can’t believe you made this yourself,” you say, pressing a kiss timidly to her cheek that has Momo adorably flustered, “Thank you. I love it.”

“I love you,” she murmurs, pulling you softly against her again, leaning her head against yours and exhaling.

“Should we get lunch to celebrate?”

“Momo!,” you scold, lifting your head to give her a stern frown, that soon fades into one of contemplation as you realize you are kind of hungry, “..maybe something small. But I’m paying for myself!”

An endeared laugh escapes your friend - girlfriend’s lips, “Deal.”

#bnha imagine #bnha fanfic #momo yaoyorozu x reader #momo x reader #momo imagine #bnha fluff #mha imagine #mha fluff #fluff #x reader #momo yaoyorozu #bnha fanart #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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chonkychornes · 5 years

Text

Open Arms Part 2

Synopsis: You come back broken from a mission, and the one person who could barely put himself back together is the one who is trying to help you.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language? Angst. Smut…eventually. 2 of ? parts. How’s this as a warning: this is my first reader insert fic and it was a challenge, y’all. So, as long as it isn’t the worst thing anyone has ever read, I’m still doing okay! I hope you enjoy it!

Also, this is really for @quant-um-fizzx I couldn’t have/wouldn’t have done any of this without her help and guidance.

Three months later, your physical strength is back but your mind still wanders and you often feel lost. You go to the mandated therapy sessions and they’re helping, you know they are.

The nightmares still come, and then you don’t sleep for days. You slip out of Steve’s bed and wander the corridors for hours. You take it upon yourself to check on everyone and everything and make sure things are safe and secure.

Just before dawn breaks, you sneak back into bed and Steve wraps a heavy arm around you and after these nightly sweeps, he always asks if all your chickens are in the coop.

After the third month, you tell Steve you want to move out of the shared quarters. The disappointment is written all over his face. He tells you that he doesn’t understand and that he worries that you’ll dive deeper into this self-imposed isolation.

You tell him that you can’t pretend to get any better than you already are.

You tell him that you can’t pretend to be the same person with him.

You tell him that you don’t want to be with him the way you were before all of this.

He tells you he’ll get started on packing up your books and movies. He makes you agree to a weekly dinner. You cup his cheek and give him the strongest smile you’ve been able to manage since you got back.

“I couldn’t do any of this without you.” He wraps you in a hug and sways you for a few minutes.

“You could,” he whispers in your ear. “You don’t believe it yet.”

Later that day you find James, “For Chrissakes, call me Bucky!” Barnes, outside underneath a maple tree, reading. He’s sitting on a plaid blanket that you know for a fact is cashmere and if Tony found out he’d have his ass about it.

You open the door and lean against the jamb with crossed arms. It’s a cool day and you can smell the rain that’s coming.

“Hey!” He looks up from his book, shoots you a grin, and pats the space next to him on the blanket.

“There’s plenty of space for you out here, doll face.” He doesn’t shout or raise his voice, but it’s clear and strong from about 50 feet away. You can’t help the recoil. It’s not him, but it’s the outside; being exposed in the open.

“Can you … can you just come inside?” You try to keep the pleading tone out of your voice, but it’s so difficult. “Please?”

“Look, I’m planning on reading this whole damned book today, right here under this tree.” He turns ever so slightly to look at you, “You wanna talk? You better get out here.”

That’s when it hits you; he’s testing you. He knows, everyone knows, that you haven’t been outside on the grounds since the night you got back. The rooms you share with Steve have a small terrace and sure, you’ve been out there, but that’s safe and protected.

“Keep your eyes on me and walk out.” His voice is firm but he’s smiling. You push off from the door and all but bolt to his position under the tree. Once again, he pats the space next to him, “Have a seat, sweetheart.”

When you plop down you roll your eyes at him and then scan the area. Logically, you know how safe you are here. Logically, you know Hydra won’t show up here to take you; but you haven’t been very logical as of late.

“You know, I really hate the nicknames,” the whisper escapes your throat and when you realize what you’ve said he’s laughing.

“Don’t I know it,” he actually wipes a tear away and grins so broadly. “So, how does it feel to be outside? Steve said you used to spend all your free time out and about?”

Of course, he’d know, because of course, Steve would have told him.

“I used to garden. Vegetables, some fruit, but mostly herbs. I liked to cook.”

“You had a victory garden,” you watch as he places the bookmark into the book with care and sets it aside. “You don’t like to cook anymore?”

“I haven’t done it in over a year. I guess I don’t know.” Lifting your face to a breeze that flies by, you can smell the trimmings from the grass that had been cut just yesterday and you close your eyes.

“So, you wanted to talk to me about something?” You look at the man next to you and notice the little things. The blinding almost baby blue of his eyes, the cleft in his chin, his stupid little half man bun. You notice how he doesn’t wear a glove over his left hand here, never here.

The two of you are dressed alike and it isn’t the first time you’ve noticed this. You both prefer long sleeve shirts, henleys. Assuming he wears long sleeves for the same reason you do, unconsciously or not, you tug on the cuff of your own sleeves t hide the markings that no one, not even you, needs to see.

“I want to swap quarters with you.” You’ve always been blunt. There’s no beating around the bush for you, not even now.

“I like living alone,” James leans back against the bark and you follow suit. You can act casual, even if your skin is crawling with the anxiety of being out in the open.

“No, you don’t. Nobody really likes to be alone, and Steve needs someone.” Leaning your head all the way back you swivel it towards him. “Before you ask, I want yours because it’s just down the hall. It’s the closest … in case I need him.”

His eyes sear into yours and you can’t tell if he’s buying the bullshit or you are.

“Steve’s just going along with this, huh?”

You chuckle and this time it isn’t forced or fake.

“He has his conditions.”

“Which are?”

Sighing, “I continue therapy sessions and after therapy, he and I work out when he’s available.”

James cuts you off, “He won’t always be available, so you can work out with me. The endorphins help with the recovery. Trust me on that.”

He holds your gaze a little too long and asks what else?

“Dinner and time together once a week.” In all actuality, this is something you’re looking forward to.

“Are you guys still fucking around?”

That’s a slap in the face you weren’t expecting and it causes you to whip your head around to look at him dead on again.

“What Steve and I used to do was never a secret. I’m not the most delicate of creatures, but you could be polite.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to figure out if spending time together means you guys are still hooking up, that’s all.” He throws his hands up in surrender. He smiles impishly, “That kind of response tells me you are.”

“Well, we’re not. We haven’t since … since before.”

Silence hangs between you and the awkwardness is so palpable that you can’t even hear the birds chirping anymore.

“I’ll do this for you, but I have my own conditions.” You had been about to open your mouth and tell him to forget it. That you could figure it out without help. “You’re asking for help, even if you didn’t say please.”

“Did you want me to say please? Did you want me to beg?” You move to stand and when he reaches out with his left arm, you’re so surprised to find it warm that your shock keeps you on your ass.

“So, you’ll work out with me when Steve isn’t around or someone else capable. Dinner once a week with me, too.”

“Fine, you can join me and Steve.”

“Nope, just us,” he grins and stands, pulling you with him. “Grab that blanket for me, would ya, honey?”

Reaching for the blanket you notice the book he was reading.

“The Joy of Cooking by Julia Child?”

“Yeah, you can cook for me once a week. I can watch and learn.” He starts back inside and you scurry after him.

“Wait, what?”

Later that night, in the privacy and silence of the single quarters, you sigh and wonder if and when you’ll fall asleep. Between Steve, James, and yourself, everything was swapped between the two apartments in record time. Your former bedfellow had made a big deal about keeping the key codes for the common room and his personal room unchanged, in the event you needed to come in sometime in the middle of the night.

You were surprised to find the James was just as contrite about it as you were.

“You’re babying her, bud,” James had pointed out and Steve’s face had paled slightly. “You can’t let her run to you every time she’s struggling. I won’t help her.”

James stood up then and moved to his new bedroom doorway. He looked to you first.

“You wanted out of here so you could deal with this your own way, right? You didn’t want to be under yet another person’s scrutiny?” He was confirming with you your thoughts that you hadn’t been able to put it into words.

You confirm with a meek ‘yes’ and look everywhere but directly at Steve.

“For the record, you put me back on the ice,” he holds up that gleaming metal appendage when Steve starts to speak. “For my own good, but Shuri and her team got me back to some semblance of normal. Then it just took time and a lot of that time was spent in solitude. Get over it, man.”

He steps into the bedroom and softly shuts the door. You desperately want to bust down the door and thank him, tell him that you understand him, that you see him; he’s still broken and bruised from his past.

“Steve?”

He looks at you and you see the confusion clouding his features. You start to realize that this was a part of James’ reluctance. Sharing this much space with a person means things come to light; sooner or later.

“I get it, at least I think I do,” he sighs and slouches down in his favorite armchair. “I don’t want to be a hindrance, but I understand.” You offer him a weak smile and he winks. “I’m still not changing the codes.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic

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thatshithurted8 · 5 years

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When You Grow Up (III)

Summary: As Y/N’s wonderful day comes to an end, Tom seems to ruin it by asking questions that need to be answered.

Length: 2,259

Series Masterlist

A/N I’ve decided that this is going to be a series!!

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When you first read the message Tom sent, you simply turned your phone on silent, rolled over and tried to go back to bed. Tried is the key word. You wanted to answer him in the morning when you are well rested and are thinking clearly, but your body had other plans.

After a few minutes of tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable again you groan out of frustration and pick up your phone. As you type away you delete, rewrite, delete and rewrite the message over and over again. You finally send a text back, deciding to keep it short.

Y/N: Marv’s diner tomorrow (technically today) at 1?

Almost instantly Tom responds.

Tom: See you then :)

His quick response makes you wonder what is he still doing up at this hour? Then it dawned on you, he was partying and he was drunk texting you.You grumble as you slam your phone down annoyed, that your ex woke you up from texts he won’t even remember in the morning.

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“Where the hell are we going?” You ask your sister, Faye as you waddle down a long hallway in a hotel near your house. Faye woke you up early and decided to take you out on a girls day. The first thing you two did was go out for breakfast at your favourite restaurant. Then the both of you guys got your nails done, you opting for a shade of light blue. And now you were in a hotel you’ve never stayed at following your older sister with confusion evident on your face.

“You’ll see in a sec.” She says stopping in front of two wooden doors with a smile on her face.

“Well go in.” Faye says looking at you expectantly once you catch up to her.

You follow her orders and as you open the door family and friends pop up yelling, “Surprise!”

You jump slightly in your spot as your right hand flies up to your heart, a shocked smile forming on your face. You were at a loss for words as you look around, Faye threw you a surprise baby shower.

As the party commences you stand in the same spot, shock still on your face as your mom and dad walk up to you and your sister. “Surprise!” Your mother says, placing a blue flower crown on your head.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Ever since you were little you dreamed of what your future baby shower would be like, but now that you’re a single mother you decided that spending money on a baby shower wasn’t worth it, when you could be buying Alexander necessities. Your family knew you were secretly disappointed at the fact you weren’t having one so everyone secretly chipped in to fulfil your dream.

You and your parents exchange hugs before you start to walk around the medium sized conference room, greeting friends and family. As you walk around music starts to play and you marvel at the decorations around the room.

When you first walk into the room the first thing you see is a table set up at the wall directly in front of you. On this table are two flower arrangements at each end and the table itself is filled with cake and sweets. Above the table hangs a white stuffed bear holding onto a bunch of blue balloons to make it look like it is floating away. The second table on the other side of the room is filled with refreshments, snacks and games. The third, and last table is stacked with presents on top. There’s blue balloons scattered around the room and a make shift photo booth area could be found hidden in a corner.

To your dismay the party flew by in what seemed to be minutes with all of the fun you had. This is the most carefree you’ve felt in awhile and if you were honest it felt refreshing. You make sure to say goodbye to all of the remaining guests before leaving yourself.

Faye and your parents told you to go home, that they will see you there in an hour or so after cleaning everything up and putting the gifts in their car. You wanted to stay and help after all, they just threw you a baby shower, it’s the least you could do. However, they persisted for you to get some rest.

So currently you found yourself turning into the driveway of your childhood home. Once you shut off the car you remain seated for a few minutes as you lean your head against the steering wheel of Faye’s car with a giant smile on your face.

As you finally get out of your sisters car you clutch your prominent stomach and hum while you walk up the stairs of the porch, looking at your belly. Once your eyes look up they instantly land on a figure sitting on the wooden bench your dad built.

Your smile instantly disappears and you can feel your happy mood diminish when your brain registers who’s sitting on your porch.

It was Tom.

He didn’t look happy as he looked up at you from his spot. “W-what are you doing here?”

“Well I was at Marv’s diner waiting for you, but you never showed up.”

Your eyes widen at the statement Tom made. “Tom I thought you were drunk when you texted me.” You say with a sigh.

“I wasn’t drunk Y/N.” He says while standing up. “What made you think I was?”

You roll your eyes at the man in front of you. “I don’t know, maybe the fact partying and getting drunk is your favourite past time.”

“I was at a party, but I wasn’t drunk.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” You ask with a raised eyebrow and a hand on your hip.

“Because after Chelsea and I saw you yesterday I realised how much I miss you.”

You could feel your heart wince at this. This can’t be happening, after months of getting used to being on your own he has the audacity to come back and say he misses you? After all of the emotional and mental turmoil he put you through?

“You should’ve thought about that before telling me to abort Alexander and leaving.” You say with venom laced in your voice. Tom was clearly hurt at what you said, but you didn’t care after all, does he think everything is going to go back to normal just by saying he misses you? He has a girlfriend for fucks sake.

As Tom stands in the same spot you turn towards the front door and insert the key and open it. While you take a step to walk into the house Tom grabs your hand and says, “Wait!” A little too loudly, making you have deja vu to Target.

You turn around to look at him, but you look down at your connected hands, trying your best to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Tom notices you staring and instantly disconnects his hand from yours.

“Can we please talk?” At first you were going to say no, but then you thought about the precious baby boy growing inside of you. Maybe this chat can benefit him.

“Fine, but you can’t stay long.” You say walking into the air conditioned house with Tom following behind you. Both of you take off your shoes and the brunette follows you up the stairs towards your bedroom.

When you guys walk into your room Tom is taken aback at how much it’s changed. While you guys were semi-dating Tom came over to your family home numerous times, especially since it was so close to your apartment on campus.

Once you reach your room Tom watches as you grab a few articles of clothing from your dresser. “I’ll be right back I’m going to get changed.” You say before exiting your room and walking down the hall to the washroom. As you change Tom takes this time to look around your new and improved room. He notices how you got rid of most of your teenage stuff and replaced it with items that were appropriate for your age.

Instead, of keeping the purple walls from your teenage years your room is now beige. You got rid of your bean bag chairs and replaced it with a grey rocking chair. Tom noticed how you moved your dresser to the other side of the room and on top is a changing pad. Beside the dresser is a small bookshelf filled with books from your childhood and framed pictures of Alexander from ultrasounds. On your bed is a giant pillow that Tom thought was a person at first, but in reality it was your pregnancy pillow. The last thing Tom’s eyes land on is the light brown crib beside your bed.

As Tom inspects your room he can’t help, but to pick up one of the framed ultrasound pictures and walk over to the crib. He didn’t realise he was doing these actions it came naturally.

He looked down at the black and white picture in awe before looking into the crib and seeing stuffed animals along one side and a fuzzy blue blanket. He looks up and see’s a baby mobile hanging above the crib. Tom reaches up and touches one of the animals attached to the mobile.

He could already tell his son was already loved so much. So why didn’t he love Alexander the same way as you did with the same intensity when you told him?

“What are you doing?” You ask as you stand in the doorway of your room.

Tom instantly turns around feeling adrenaline course through his veins as he didn’t expect you to catch him. “I-I don’t know.” He chokes out as he takes in your appearance. You took your make up off from earlier, had your hair up in a messy bun and were wearing black leggings with an over sized shirt with the name of your college on it. Despite, the shirt being oversized your stomach still stood out. Tom loved it when you dressed like this and seeing you wear this particular outfit is making the brown eyed boy be reminded to when you two were together.

You simply shrug your shoulders while putting your dirty clothes in a hamper and walking over to your bed. Tom puts the picture back where he found it as you do this. You climb into your bed, getting under the covers, while leaning against the headboard of your bed. You simply nod over to the rocking chair in the corner and Tom silently understands what you mean.

After Tom sits down in the grey chair you speak, “So what do you want to talk about?”

“I think I want to be in Alexander’s life.” He breathes out.

“You think or you know?”

“I-I know. I know I want to be in his life.” Tom stutters looking around the room before finally meeting your gaze.

“Why?” You ask as you fold your arms over your chest.

“What do you mean why?”

You sigh. “Well there has to be a reason right? Just a few months ago you were adamant you didn’t want him and now all of a sudden you do. What changed?”

It took Tom a few minutes to gather his thoughts before he spoke, “When you first told me I was scared and I’m sure you were too, but at that moment in time I didn’t even know if I liked kids, let alone wanted them and then I find out you’re pregnant with my child. I was so shocked and scared that I acted immaturely and said some really stupid things Y/N and I’m really sorry for that.” He pauses looking at you in the eyes and you could tell how he truly sorry he was.

“I’d be lying if I said every day away from you I didn’t think about you because I did. I thought about you and the baby all of the time.” Tom’s statement causes a blush to creep onto your face and you hope that he doesn’t notice it. “I wanted to reach out to you I really did, but I was scared that you’d shut me out. And to be honest after our last talk I thought it would be impossible to fix things.” Tom says looking at your hands caressing your stomach then back up to your eyes.

“But then Chelsea and I saw you at Target and once my eyes landed on your bump I felt ashamed. Ashamed for what I put you through, ashamed for letting you go through this pregnancy alone, ashamed that I missed watching Alexander grow along with your belly. So please Y/N can we do this parenting thing together? I’ve already missed so much please don’t let me miss anything else.” He asks - begs you.

You sigh as you gather your thoughts. You know you can’t let your emotions get in the way for what’s best for your son, but a part of you is scared that he’ll leave again. No matter what your answer is it won’t fix everything, you know that for sure, but if it will have a positive impact on Zander then you’re all for it. However, you will never forget what Tom did.

You chew on your bottom lip knowing what you’re about to say will make or break yours and Alexander’s future. “Yes Tom we can do this parenting thing together.”

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Tags: @livasaurasrex @bellamyblakemorley @mutuallynotmutual @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @badgalll88 @ilyholland @bangtan-serendipity @itsbebeyy @ghostinparker @onelovesr @newleta

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #frat tom holland #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #spiderman #spiderman homecoming #spiderman far from home #Avengers #marvel

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amieyhko · 4 years

Text

Escapril 2019

escaprilday 2019 // 1: a fresh start

two Costco bags full of

umma-certified clean clothes,

“unpacking cannot begin with wet clothes”

Taipei humidity is unkind.

coins clink,

white noise revs

drowning out the drizzle

as heart somersaults

to the rhythm of the cycles:

what — tum — am I — ble

doing — tumble — here?

the darks tumble its final spin

as the lights

click —

into a stop.

a whiff into a warm towel

warns me the comforts of home,

promising

of munchies, blankies, and speedy wifi

of cushy floor space where crafting

and writing past midnight can be done in secret

but —

fold — maybe — toss — I changed —

yellow blouse — or gave up too easily —

fold — or could it be —

toss — I’m listening to all the wrong voices? —

red turtleneck — no — flick —

wait, this is so soft now, I guess the washing machine in that guest house in Seoul was indeed really terrible —

fold — yes, this is how it should feel on my skin —

toss – my heart knows, though —

fuzzy sock — maybe home is where I need to be right now —

into basket — there’s nothing wrong with —

grab — starting over again.

escaprilday 2019 // 2: april showers

you said all memorable moments

include an unexpected deluge

I nod and laugh

as the metro ac pierces through

my drenched jacket

I shiver as I feel my clammy socks

cling onto my not-rainproof Docs

("they're not?" you ask in shock)

ears ringing still

from speakers booming

throat scratchy from scream-singing

at the top of our lungs.

still, you smile, shiver, and say,

with half-dazed eyes,

all good memories

end in rain.

escaprilday 2019 // 3: incorporate music

“Hope I’m not tired of rebuilding”

at this in-between

this time of heating up lukewarm lattes

and microwaving soggy french fries,

a surrendering of old and new

kindles a familiar tune:

“not what’s easy, what do you want?”

at this in-between,

the seconds between a squat and a jump

or the hours during an endless free fall,

a whisper sings an awakening:

“even a phoenix dies”

so at this in-between

muster up the strength to

inhale blue

and exhale gold.

escaprilday 2019 // 4: anxiety

lacuna

¡amiga!” he chimes like clockwork

with a sonrisa that has probably charmed plenty of hearts.

my fist bumps his and I walk toward the dark halls

where they tilt their heads forward and say

“안녕하세요” they grin,

some fake, others genuine,

mostly muscle memory.

“哈咯“ she greets as I turn the corner—

a sound of familiarity.

the velcros on my lips finally relax

till we part ways to our stations

“how are you?” their words flow dry

they probably don’t want to find out

my tongue lands on one syllable:

“good”.

escapril 2019 // 5: back to nature

I’ve a secret spot for seeing stars in Taipei City.

after a day downtown,

blasting my headphones at damaging decibels,

fixing makeup with samples at drugstores,

and chasing after buses,

I skip down the announced “platform two for Taipei Zoo”

and gaze down at the light show stage named Zhongxiao Fuxing.

as the red greens, a rush of headlights streams at me—my eyes

lose focus, my heart

leaps back into my chest just as

the home-bound metro approaches.

I’ll always remember the yard at Tiszavasvári

where we lay to see a starry night drawn by the Creator

after a day of listening to screaming children,

braiding their hairs,

and chasing after the impossible ones,

we stood in awe, jaws dropped, then soon learned

our necks weren’t strong enough

so we lay down, evening breeze

accompanied by the crickets sang a lullaby—

my eyes played a senseless game

of connect-the-dots, my heart skipped several beats

as I let go of the memories of beds and blankets.

escapril 2019 // 6: nostalgia

missing you is easy.

remembering you creeps

up in little mundanities

like a cup of fruit tea

a bottle of Clorox

or an inappropriately loud laughter--

to my consolation, yours is unmatchable.

although,

the sound of your laughter rings

quieter

till I can whisper:

escapril 2019 // 7: start with a time of day

3 a.m.

why wait

for dawn when

we can set yesterday

in flames

over this river?

escapril 2019 // 8: love poem

I cannot recall the exact words uttered

but something in my heart fluttered:

our eyes met for a millisecond

we cracked, till our breaths weakened.

our words, lost in the waves

transformed into safes

I open in my heart of hearts

to feel at home within the laughs of your loves.

escapril 2019 // 9: focus on the color

chorok hadn't found its form in

korean of old. fields of

grass and evergreens,

little plates of herbal banchan,

lush of summers,

and squirming caterpillars

all existed as paran-- that same

color ascribed to vast oceans,

and sunny skies

then one lively spring, chorok

creeped its way into our tongues,

demanding to be seen on

street signs,

the mountain tops, and

cross walk lights

though some still speak "the light

turned paran",

and the incorrigible children's tune

singing of spring

blossoming into paran,

chorok sprouts an entrance

undeniable to out naked eyes.

escapril 2019 // 10: femininity

the bus,

back slides down on the uncomfortable bus seat,

fingers stroke through my freshly buzzed head,

while many eyes fixate above my eyes,

asking:

"is she a boy or a girl?"

"is she a lesbian?"

"what happened to her… hair?"

eyes read their faces,

mouth struts a big yawn with no reflex system telling me to conceal it.

imagination floats to a stadium,

feet stands on the podium,

voice declares:

I'm still so-very-much a lady--

just not fair like Audrey,

nor dainty like a stereotype,

or as brave as Joan,

and definitely not as attractive than most

but maybe more like

the ones writing history

now.

escapril 2019 // 11: not from your perspective

most of the time I sit beside the maroon sofa

where you watch tv and transform into a potato

I wait and wait for that sweet moment

you grab my handle

travel me to a flat desk

wind me up with thread

hook me up to a pedal

switch my light on

smooth out a piece of fabric

pinned up in zig zag

then

zoom, crackle, buzz,

your hands sync to my rhythm

you pray I don’t jam

or break your thread

then you announce with pride

“et voila!”

escapril 2019 // 12: spring cleaning

it takes two countries

few cities

thirteen houses

fifteen boxes

thirty trash bags

and an infinite repetition of

"do we need this?"

for a soul to grasp the spider web line

between a desire and a necessity.

then a decade teaches the

same soul

sometimes,

spectrums soften

escapril 2019 // 13: celestial bodies

if only

seeing you was as easy as

some nightly glow at your half

reflecting off

a big blazing ball of light on my half

escapril 2019 // 14: make it rhyme

a sonnet-full of embellishments, fake

notions of how lovely you are like some

weather in summer or spring, homemade cake

that tastes like cheap flour and rotten eggs, numb

from clichés, the love songs that never shut

up, posed photos of arms around my waist,

a let-me-take-that gentleness, so what

are you doing? leaving sour aftetaste

in our hearts. no, this sonnet is not for

us. we don’t need guidelines to fall in love,

nor the recipes known to prevent war

(it cannot be all fair in war and love),

so stop. steep in this silence as your hand

finds mine in this complicated quicksand.

escapril 2019 // 15: describe a smell

a dash of prickliness:

prickly, like appa’s beard attacking my forehead as he plants a kiss.

then an overwhelming sense of saltiness:

salty, like that time I accidentally used the spoon side of the seasoning bottle

or tasting my own sweat or tears.

something rotting at slow decay.

fruit flies feast.

my nose shoots me back to

halmoni yelling something in dialect, umma replying.

I stand in the middle of the market square, I’m ten.

they promised me jjajangmyeon,

my nostrils can hold out just a minute more.

escapril 2019 // 16: any dreams?

five—

I was to be a Pokemon trainer by day

and Sailor Moon by night

but adults hung my creativity dry

seven—

a singer-songwriter

but music chose me not

ten—

fashion designer,

draw designs, sew coutures, walk the runway myself

but whispers yelled discouragements

fifteen—

couldn’t care: I was a realistic teen

now—

I tip-toe about my heart

trying my best not to pick on scabs,

unable to answer any questions

albeit an I-don’t-know

has never sounded more

comforting and clear.

hear the wounds heal

to the beat of the unicorn hooves.

escapril 2019 // 17: body as friend or foe

I was born in Guatemala,

but my father’s from Georgia

he’s a musician, he produces

K-pop albums and we travel the world

searching for the next big deal,

my mother paints apples, she’s from Zimbabwe

she also writes Chinese poems.

It’s all true—

my body deceives every bit of reality within me.

escapril 2019 // 18: a happy place

hear nose tickle

with the sound of lavender feathers

fluttering by

eyes will open up to inhale

the golden hours spent

under Your glorious dance

escapril 2019 // 19: without your name, who are you?

if an utterance of a name

can form a heart,

her name has been called by many

if each spoken word forms

a vibration into what we are,

she's a someone

whispered into a myriad of paradoxes:

she's an asteroid, crashing fast,

uncontrollable, unexpected.

she's a cup of tea, calm,

idle, ready for nothing.

escapril 2019 // 20: a liminal space

this amorphous ground feels comfortable,

excuses acceptable:

the excruciating humidity,

drowsy rain, busy friends,

false pride, miscalculating time.

they say:

Prufrock measures his life in coffee spoons,

but Zeno says nothing ever reaches its destinations.

the Knight holds his tongue

yet his heart flutters a violent beat.

I’m just another contra, letting my feet skip away

as each step echoes heart beating somewhere

back.

escapril 2019 // 21: it’s the end of the world

no zombie apocalypse,

the sun still functions,

stars are still, hearts

unbroken, no one

escaping to Mars,

no fatal goodbyes.

one silent pink noise

a purple glow,

“welcome back home”

it said.

escapril 2019 // 22: nourishment

last month, I met a little

potted plant.

I took it back to my little

suffocating room

and named it little

foggy star.

I loved it little

by little

I gave it little

droplets of water,

spoke little

words of compliment,

took it to my little

window sill

the sun peeped through

a little.

it grew a little,

I did too.

escapril 2019 // 23: when the party’s over

recollect spilled laughters —

this, for unworthy jokes,

that, for suave comments,

maybe one for someone dreamy —

bottle them up,

keep them fresh

for the next sea of

stragglers,

mutual someone,

you-look-quite-nice,

wow-so-interesting.

escapril 2019 // 24: liar, liar

how to be a compulsive liar

one: disregard empathy, embrace despondency, think selfish,

my life doesn’t have to tell truth tales, no one needs to know.

two: rehearse recollections, think practicality, use names they’d never check,

let myself believe in each detail, each sight, smell the scenario

three: speak the perfectly fabricated phrases into existence,

no need to bat an eye, stutter a detail, overthink a loophole.

for example: “yeah, the party was fun. we walked around the park afterwards.

who? oh no, he wasn’t there. he had an important family dinner.”

four: remember the lie, inform reliable partners in crime if necessary,

never bring it back, stick to your guns.

promise yourself: they can’t hurt, they’ll never know.

remember: truths hurt, they’re inconvenient, it’s none of their business.

dig: until your shovel breaks.

drown out: every kindness the world has to offer.

die: in the said dug hole, climb out just to

repeat: until trust is a pair of cracked glasses, refuse to see a redemption until

die again: learn that these walls must go —

invite: the uncomfortableness that is vulnerability

repeat: until system reboots.

escapril 2019 // 25: pick an animal

my giraffe friend

shades me when the sun’s high

and warms me when the wind’s rough,

meeting her eyes pains me with

an aching neck,

she will always stand tall in a room,

there’s no shelf too high for me,

when she’s close by.

escapril 2019 // 26: girlhood, boyhood, childhood

when I was older, I had a pair of

very pink sneakers

they'd glitter in the sun,

glamoured in gemstones for dignity

velcros loud enough to turn heads

when it was time to take them off

I glanced over my neighbors' shelves:

ugly. blue. brown. ugly. mine trampled over all.

then my eyes stood silent

as I zone in

on her pair of Gundam sneakers

secretly jealous, mostly confused,

extremely frustrated of rule-breaking

girls, defying pink, watching animation

for boys only

now, I wear boring black or white shoes

so do most humans with feet.

escapril 2019 // 27: the state of it all

“you're it!”

a harmless push from their arms

my chest thrusts back

limbs under a spell

all bones removed

“catch me if you can”

why don't you save me

'cause you can?

escapril 2019 // 28: reflection

memories retraces a blur

crooked smile

red dye fading

cigarette between your fingers

standing mostly on your right leg--

you let out a puff as i tell you “i’m imaginary.”

you say you couldn't have

so i tease you more with a kiss

“that wasn't real

that was you imagining it all

new school

a manic pixie

the loneliness got to your brains

that's all”

you flick away the cigarette

eyes reflecting my face

you kiss me back and say

“please don't do this to my brain

you're real

far too real for me i'm not smart like that”

i snicker

the buzzing bus terminal is real

you and i are real

but i'm not

you're no more

escapril 2019 // 29: may flowers

she died a few days ago—

flew off the rooftop

fallen against teeming

reborn lives

the most beautiful of flowers

only last a day or two

you said we are beautiful

because we’re ephemeral

but what happens when

fleeting moments like

a crash kilometers away

pain for someone I never knew?

escapril 2019 // 30: catharsis

yesterday, I cleaned out my room

bugs infested each and every corner

I tried to catch them but they

hid away between the nooks and crannies

whispering schemes to each other

learning the dustiest corners I’ve ignored

waiting for a perfect time to kill

so I dusted out the corners

rearranged the furnitures

repainted the scratches

thinking cover-ups should make anew

yesterday, I cleaned out my room

praying for the bug spray to kill,

I felt seventeen, rearranging photographs,

filling up a space with desired personalities,

she would have been proud

there’s nothing I’d tell her, but to say

yesterday, I cleaned my room, for another hundredth time

they say an odyssey is a cycle

ending with a catharsis

where you come clean

but yesterday, I cleaned my room

again

#poetry #poems #escapril #escapril 2019 #writing #writer #amieko #journal #reflections

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sebbies · 7 years

Text

night changes

summary: you have a secret admirer. word count: 1.800 a/n: i kinda think this is terrible?? but i worked so hard and long on it masterlist

First came the roses.

The sound of incessant knocking on your door woke you up much earlier than you would have liked.

“Yeah! Alright!” You shouted as you rolled out of bed, rubbing your eyes a few times before patting down your hair. Slowly you padded through your hallway and the knock started up once more.

“I get it! I’m coming!” You say loudly just as you walked through the living room and to the kitchen. With a loud groan you swung open the door, ready to yell at whoever decided to wake you up at the crack of dawn.

But you ended up just staring at neighbours door across the hall. Carefully you poked your head out into the hallway and glanced both ways.

“I swear to go-“ Your eyes landed on your doormat, foot hovering above the bundle of fresh roses that were laid so carefully on the floor. Kneeling down you lifted the bouquet and a white card fell through the dark red ribbon that was holding the roses together. Cradling the flowers in your arms, you grabbed the card and opened it.

When I see my first lady angel, if God ever sees fit to show me one,

It’ll be her wings not her face that’ll make my mouth fall open.

I’ve already seen the prettiest face that ever could be.

The words left you speechless and you could feel your face heat up. Who would write that? Who knows Vonnegut that well? Your thoughts were endless as you stood up and looked down the corridor once more just hoping you would catch a glimpse at the person who left the thoughtful gift.

“Who was that?” Your roommate Natasha asked as she sat down on the a stool by the kitchen counter.

“I don’t know.” You close the door with your foot and began to walk back to your room.

“You got a secret admirer!”

“Shut up!” You yelled with no real anger behind the words. A smile played on your face as you walked into your room.

Next came the teddy bear.

Part of you dreaded going to work on Valentine’s day; you knew you would have to hear about all the plans your colleagues had made with their significant other and it would just remind you how lonely you actually were.

“Good Morning, Y/N!” Your assistant cheered as you walked through the office doors.

“Morning, Stacy.” You walked passed the receptionist desk and entered through the glass doors of your office.

“It’s gonna be a long day,” you groan quietly to yourself after seeing the multiple stacks of reports atop your desk.

Your movements came to an immediate halt after rounding the desk corner and noticing the stuffed animal that was resting comfortable in your chair.

“What the hell?” You grabbed the bear from your seat and held it up. It was holding a heart in its hands with yellow stitching reading ‘be mine.’

“Stacy!” She comes scurrying into your face with a knowing smirk on her face.

“Oh yeah, someone left that for you,” she feigned innocence as she looked between you and the bear.

“Who?” Subconsciously you held the teddy bear close to your chest almost like when a kid hugs their stuffed animal for comfort.

“Can’t say.”

“Why not?”

“Promised not to.”

“Okay, thank you Stacy,” a heavy breath left your mouth. First the roses and now the teddy bear? Whoever your secret admirer was, they sure knew how to be romantic.

Then it was the chocolates.

Working on the reports went a lot faster than expected and the phone alarm that signalled lunch time shocked you slightly.

“Food. Finally.” You push way from the desk and stand up, straightening your pencil skirt before making way towards the lunch room.

Usually you didn’t stay in the office when you had lunch but on holidays and special occasions the office always ordered pizza, something you couldn’t pass up on.

The chatter stopped as soon as you stepped into the break room causing you to eye everyone suspiciously.

“What’s going on?” You asked to no-one in particular. One of the interns nodded their head towards an empty table in the back and on the surface laid a lone box of expensive chocolates. Everyone had their eyes on you as you made your way to the table, parting like the red sea.

Another white notecard came into view. It had your name written in neat cursive on the front. Gently ripping the card off the box, you flipped it over.

The best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more,

that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.

And that’s what you’ve given me.

That’s what I’d hoped to give you forever.

If you weren’t so enthralled by the mystery of it all, you’d think that the ‘xx’ at the bottom were taunting to you.

“Does anyone know who left this?” Your back was still facing them and by the silence it was easy to know that everyone had shook their heads.

Your fingers were fiddling with the edges of the card as you racked through your mind on who could be your secret admirer.

One name did pop up. Bucky.

Bucky was your only friend that was in your literature class in college. He would have known Cat’s Cradle and Nicholas Sparks. He was one of your best and closest friends. Your heart fluttered at the thought of him possibly liking you. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive but you assumed he was so out of your league that there was no way he would see you anything more than a friend.

“Want a slice?” A voice cut through your thoughts. Spinning around on your heel, you nodded at the person who spoke while clutching onto the card close to your heart.

After came the song.

The long work day came to an end and you were no closer in figuring out his Bucky was the real culprit behind the gifts or if it was someone else. Ah fuck, I hope it’s Bucky.

As you reached your apartment door and looked down to slide your key into the lock, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory of finding the roses this morning.

Music could be heard through the door, groaning and hoping it was not one of Natasha’s bad music taste, you opened the door, only to stand shocked under the frame.

The entire apartment was dark minus the many candles that were laying around in various areas throughout the rooms. You slowly walked further in absentmindedly closing the door behind you. Your phone dinged after you laid your stuff on the counter.

Natasha: Some mail came for you. Left it on the coffee table.

Not even bothering to respond, you immediately went for the table almost sprinting there.

It shouldn’t be a surprise and yet it is when you see another white card placed carefully in the centre.

Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent. - Victor Hugo

The card brought your attention to the song that had been playing in the background.

Seems like yesterday when she first said hello

Funny how time flies when you’re in love

It took us a lifetime to find each other

It was worth the wait cause I finally found the one

Never in my dreams did I think this would happen to me

It had to be Bucky. It just had to be. He was the only that knew how much you loved that song. Besides Natasha, he was the only one who knew you wanted that song to be played at your wedding for the first dance. It was your song.

You saw a mini arrow at the bottom of the card and you flipped it over, heart beating faster than ever before at the neatly written words that filled the blank space.

I’ll treat ya to some of the best milkshakes in town.

Come by at 7 pm. Back booth.

It was Bucky. Misty’s Diner was the place where you and Bucky would meet when college got too stressful and you needed time to relax. He had shown it to you, saying he came to this place since he was a boy with his friend Steve.

You heard your phone ding through the music and ran over.

Natasha: I know you’re going to look stunning in that dress.

No way. You hurried down the hallway and barged into your room. The dress you had been eyeing for ages lay neatly spread out on top of your bed.

“Oh my god,” you gushed as you lunged toward the dress, lifting it up and examining it. It was black with white polka dots and stopped just before your knees.

Natasha: Better hurry up.

You glanced at the time and nearly shrieked at how little time there was left to get ready and look presentable.

Finally, it was the dinner.

The diner was fairly full when you entered. There were couples of all ages enjoying milkshakes and burgers, it was all so adorable your heart almost exploded.

“Come this way sweetie,” a waitress cooed and guided you towards the back booth. Your booth.

As you got closer, you could tell there was someone sitting there and then suddenly he came into full view.

“Bucky,” you breathed out, the waitress smiled before leaving you standing by the table. Bucky scrambled out of the booth and stood in front of you.

“You look stunning. Glad you made it.”

“Always.”

He gently helped you sit down before scurrying back to his side and plopping down.

“I already placed our orders if that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.”

There was a moment of awkward silence before Bucky spoke up.

“Listen, s-so, um- I kinda have a thing for you.” He looked down at the table, fiddling his thumbs.

“Just kinda?” He looked up with a lopsided grin.

“Okay, more than kinda.”

“Well I kinda have a thing for you too.” Bucky blushed at your words.

“Why me?” There was more seconds of silence before Bucky answered thoughtfully.

“I’ve always been interested in you since we met. Every time I tried to show you how I felt, your response were largely ambivalent and I grew to think that maybe this wasn’t a mutual feeling. I thought maybe today, if I really tried, showing all my cards, I hoped you’d finally see how much I care for you.”

You smiled calmly at him and he couldn’t help but reciprocate the same look.

“It’s been you since day one,” you whispered, reaching over the table and holding his hand, “it’s always been you.”

tags: @sebashtiansatan @4theluvofall @rosebstan @captainpunk @whyisbuckyso @theassetseyeliner @violentlybarnes @heyrogers @wvntersoldierr @hymnofthevalkyrie @mojean13 @irunintospace @forever-aimless @official-tiddy @kjs-s @beau-andthebeast @evgvillanueva @lastfallenstar @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @shieldgirl95 @feelmyroarrrr @socialheartbreak @quakson-stan-jr @bibarnxs @infinity1321 @coal000 @getbuckylucky @girl-next-door-writes @eshia16 @castiel-kenobi @sassycanoodler @destielinamoose @motionlessinblack6 @sweetlytenacious25 @superwholockian5ever @saharzek

listen im tired

and im pretty sure this is the #worst thing ive written

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #mywords

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dcvotion · 3 years

Text

@oathofpromises said: Kairi walked up and placed her hands over Riku’s eyes. A sly smile forming on her face. The silver haired male probably thought she forgot what today was but that wasn’t going to happen.

“Guess who?” laughed the red-head, as she slowly backed away. A gift hidden behind her back, she leaned forward before holding it out to Riku.

“I never would forgot what today is..happy birthday Riku. I hope you like the gift..” whispered the maiden, as she leaned back. Inside the present was a beautiful photo album mostly of Sora, Riku and Kairi. Stretching back from when they were kids to present day. At the back of the album were a stack of letters. All addressed to Riku from Kairi.

“I wrote you and Sora so many letters..for years. A part of me wasn’t sure I’d ever share them with you but the words are all from my heart. I think reading them might always encourage you too.” Whispered Kairi, as on top of the album lay a beautiful lucky charm. One similar to Sora’s but in the center instead of crown was the Way to Dawn symbol. A cute Riku like face drawn on the top.

“I won’t ever let you forget how incredible you are. Happy birthday Riku.”

He would know her hands anywhere so SURE of themselves when it came to either he or Sora, incredibly soft, and yet worked to the bone through hard training and determined sessions. Kairi had come a long way since their childhood, but never once had she become something UNFAMILIAR to him. The tease only riled forth a bit of laughter from him.

“Thanks, Kairi.” He murmured, accepting the gift and carefully peeling off the layers which shrouded the package in MYSTERY. Despite not lifting his gaze, he listened as she spoke, though he was far too engrossed in observing each and every page of lined photos and captured happy smiles (with the ocassional shocked one, thanks to hilarious pranks pulled on one another). It was hard to accept that everything contained within the album had been so long ago, part of Riku felt it had only been yesterday. HAPPY memories, all of them.

Time flies, as they say.

The letters were another matter entirely, digits smoothing across one before gingerly leafing through them, noting just how MUCH of them were in there how much was written upon each and every one.

She always had them both in her heart...

Finally, his attention landed on the charm made special just for him, lips quirking upright at the very corners of his mouth as he felt his chest TIGHTEN in a pleasant manner. Vaguely, he felt his eyes mist over, though it was so brief and gone, that the rapid fluttering of his lashes left him feeling that perhaps he’d imagined it. Regardless of how he physically expressed it, he was grateful all the same.

It was high time that he SHOWED it.

“Kairi, it’s... it’s incredible. All of it.” Taking charm in hand, he held it to his chest, right against his HEART, hoping that every beat would fuel the charm’s lucky properties. Arms then opened, bringing her near, gifts held secure in his hands all the while. The one more precious than those was held secure his arms, instead. “Thank you... Really.”

He would be sure to read every word of every letter with the utmost CARE; The charm will remain forever on his person. You know. For good luck.

#oathofpromises #VERSE ✬ MAIN #//This is a little late but I definitely wanted to get this done before it got TOO LATE ; u ; this was so cute~#One last happy birthday for Riku~ thank you!! He's gonna cherish all of these ♡//

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caspinn · 7 years

Text

Repeating Apologies - Chapter 8

Summary: The Winchesters have found the next Indigo in Greece. They try to find out what kind of Indigo this one is, but get in deep trouble before figuring it out. Will this Indigo be Dean’s soulmate? Will she be able to cure him from the Mark Of Cain?

Warnings: Violence

Note: Sorry it took this long to post the next chapter. I had a major setback as my new laptop got stolen and after that I got another setback as I noticed OneDrive accidentally erased a few chapters... So, yeah, that’s life I guess :)

When Eryn wanted to answer, Sam suddenly felt his phone buzz in the pocket of his pants. He jumped up and walked away, mumbling his apologies. Once he read the name on his phone, he quickly answered it.

“Hello, Charlie?”

“Hi, Sam! How are you guys doing?” her cheery voice asked. Sam smiled and scratched his head.

“Well, we already found two Indigos,” he revealed, but he wasn’t really sure if the second one wanted to leave her creepy Vampire-family-clan to help Dean.

“That’s great news!” Charlie called out.

“Yeah, so, did you just call for an update? Or…I mean you sure have the right to call, you can always call and-“

“Yeah, yeah Sam, I kinda called because of the loneliness and the silence in this ginormous bunker. Oh, and I decoded some stuff from The Book Of The Damned by using some of Rowena’s notes.” She said it like she had done the dishes, as if decoding that stuff wasn’t hard at all.

“Wow, okay…what did you find?” Sam could hear Charlie ruffle trough some pages.

“Sooo…It’s not much, but I found out that the soulmate should be able to take the Mark over from him with some kind of complicated spell.” Crap.

“Okay, but then the Soulmate has the Mark and we still don’t get permanently rid of it,” Sam stated, remembering how Dean had explained that Cain had simply passed it on, as well.

Suddenly Charlie sounded dead serious. “Hmm, well, I can almost assure you that getting rid of that thing permanently will carry some kind of dark consequence. I didn’t fully translate that part yet so I don’t know how we'll be able to do that, but there’s only one word that I managed to translate already and it seems to be important because I see it coming back in almost all of the sentences.”

“What word is that?” Sam had a bad feeling about it.

“Dark,” Charlie revealed. The hunter sighed and rubbed in his eyes while trying to shake that bad feeling off. When he finished the conversation, he turned around to walk back to the others and saw Eryn, standing in the grass, a bit further from Dean, Cas and Valo, talking to Echo and two, Sam guessed, other Vampires. The three guys were sitting on the gravel, keeping an eye on Eryn.

“What happened? Did she tell what kind of Indigo she is?” Cas shook his head.

“No, at the same moment as you started calling, Echo walked in with her two companions. They needed Eryn to discuss something,” the Angel explained.

“News from Charlie?” Dean asked, getting straight to business. Sam nodded and without hesitation he started explaining everything that Charlie had told him.

When Eryn walked back to the guys, they could hear her yell: “Don’t forget anyone. You have their addresses and missions!”

“What’s happening?” Valo asked curiously.

“I’m having a meeting, I assigned Echo to come to me because you guys didn’t seem like a threat, so she didn’t have to guard me anymore.” Sam hadn’t even noticed that someone was guarding Eryn…Echo must have had a great hiding place.

“What kind of meeting?” Castiel asked, curiously but also cautiously.

“Well, Castiel, this situation needs to be discussed with my family, right? I can’t just leave them!”

Dean scratched his chin. “But are you planning on helping us?” he asked roughly.

“I am, but I need to be sure that my family can survive without me,” Eryn revealed. Dean nodded and Sam could see in his brother’s eyes that he wasn’t looking forward to be part of a big meeting with a whole clan of Vampires, even if their diet is human-free. Sam knew that he needed to keep an eye on Dean when the clan was coming together, so his eyes made contact with Cas’. The Angel nodded, so he understood that he needed to guard Dean too.

One hour and a half later the piece of stadium beyond the tunnel, where the guys met Eryn, was filled with about thirty Vampires. They showed up from all dark corners of the dawn. Dean acted as if he was relaxed, but even Valo noticed the Winchester’s nervousness.

“Calm down,” he whispered to Dean. Sam’s elder brother looked at Valo, he hadn't even noticed his own tense behavior, and tried to act better as if he was calm.

Eryn started talking and while she was speaking, she looked like the most relaxed and playful person ever. At the same time, she still sounded like a leader. With her straight back, loud voice and confident movements, she proved she had everything under control. Did Sam dream that the woman only a few hours ago said that she’d deserve to die?

“Dear friends and family! You must be asking yourself why I organized such a big meeting? Well, yesterday we, and with we I mean our dear Echo, discovered American hunters in Greece and she followed them and lead them to me. You know who these hunters were? Ladies and gentlemen, may I present you: THE WINCHESTERS!” She laughed loudly while she made big hand gestures to the two brothers. The Vampires held their breath.

Sam noticed that they didn't really share Eryn's cheer, after all, they were still monsters in the same room with hunters.

“Now, these four pretty faces asked me to join them on a mission. A mission that would stop a whole lot of killings!” She took Dean’s hand and pulled him more to the front. Dean was smart and calm enough to follow her.

“Now,” she said while stroking Dean’s jawline, Sam just kept watching with his mouth a bit open from surprise. “What do you guys think?” she asked her clan without pulling her hand away from Dean. Dean glared at her dangerously, but that only made her smile wider. It somehow gave Sam the feeling that this woman could be extremely powered and fearless.

Someone took a step forward to talk. It was a bald man with a muscular body. “Will you return?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”Eryn answered honestly. When the next person, a woman, took a step forward, Dean tried to go a bit backwards with anyone noticing it. The woman asked her question.

“Who will lead us?” when Eryn took Dean’s hand, quick and silent, no clan-member noticed.

“I’ll announce that as soon as we are sure of my departure. Who thinks this mission isn’t strong enough for me to leave?” While some hands were raising and the Vampires were whispering to each other to discuss the subject, Eryn turned to Dean and whispered in his ear. When she was done, Dean looked a bit grumpy and nodded. Eryn let his hand go and Dean stayed by her side the rest of the meeting. Sam was curious what she told him…

“I count…thirteen votes for me to stay. This is the minority, so I’m sorry, my dear family, but I’ll be going with the Winchesters. I honestly think you made the right decision.” She scraped her throat. “I decided to make two next leaders, being my own blood and the eldest Vampire. My nephew, who, we all know, is like a brother to me and the Vampire who looks like a teenager, but is hundreds years older than the most of us. Alec and Echo, come to me!”

Sam looked shockingly at Echo. She was hundreds years old?! How was that even possible? But then again, he had learned by now not to ask too many questions.

When Alec came closer, Sam noticed that he was a Vampire too. It made the Winchester think about what could’ve happened to Eryn’s family…but as far as he knew, they could still be living… or not… . Eryn gave a little speech and took goodbye of the clan she cared for, for many years.

“I know, for sure, that these two people will be as good leaders as I was. Alec and Echo, do you guys promise to only do what is right and correct and to do no unnecessary harm, to make sure the whole family stays bound by this rule?”

Alec nodded and spoke softly: “Promise.” Echo yelled loud and clear: “I promise!”

“Please, never hesitate to call me when in need. I hope this isn’t farewell, so I say goodbye!” Eryn kissed the cheeks of Echo and Alec, to say goodbye. The other Vampires walked to the front, towards Eryn, to say goodbye, hug her and kiss her cheeks.

This time, Eryn let Dean escape to Sam, Cas and Valo. Castiel immediately asked Dean what Eryn had whispered in his ear.

“She said that I was the mascot of the whole meeting,” he mumbled bitterly.

“Why?” Sam asked curiously. How did she manage to let Dean stay like a well-trained dog?

“She told me that even vegetarian Vampires like to stare at a good looking piece of meat. She needed me to look pretty and to be adored. Vampires apparently happen to be extremely sexually active.” For a second, Sam just stared at his brother, then he started laughing. Dean looked with a sour face at the guy making fun of him.

“That sounds like a nice compliment,” Castiel said innocently. Valo grinned widely, but his grin suddenly faded when he felt Eryn pulling his arm this time. She pulled him to the clan of Vampires. It was his turn to look pretty and this time, the Vampires were a whole lot closer than they were with Dean.

‘Save me’ Valo mouthed. This time Dean laughed his ass off, as if Valo was his friend. Maybe they’ll get to be friends, after some time, Sam thought. Valo was someone who was able to stay calm, well, calmer than Dean. Like me, Sam thought. Maybe that was exactly what Dean needed in a soulmate.

Or maybe Valo wasn’t Deans soulmate at all.

“Let’s leave now, while the clan isn’t noticing it,” Eryn said a few hours later when she walked back to the guys to release Valo. The Vampires were drinking and talking to each other. Sam understood her, she doesn’t want a too dramatic goodbye.

“I’ll go home to pack my stuff. When do you think the next plane flies to Belgium?”

“Well, Greece and Belgium are pretty close to each other, so probably tomorrow. I’ll check it and I'll let you kn-“

Suddenly Sam heard gunshots from everywhere. Everything suddenly went to slow motion. Sam looked behind him and saw the Vampires falling down and blood flying around. He saw a lot of fire and smelled the stink of burning flesh. Sam’s brain managed to muffle the screams to the background.

Sam felt someone pulling his arm, it was Dean to get Sam out of his trance. Dean signed to Valo and Valo started running, followed by Castiel, who made sure the Indigo wouldn’t get shot. When Sam tried to make Eryn move, she just kept staring at the bloodbath in front of her, so he just lifted her from the ground and threw her over his shoulder and sprinted.

Eryn wrestled herself loose again and when she looked at Sam, he could see her left eye was bright blue and her right eye was unnatural black, like Valo’s eyes were when he had argued with Dean next to the Parthenon. Sam knew that he mustn’t stare at her eyes for too long. When Eryn turned and ran to the fight, Sam yelled at her, but she didn’t look back. Sam turned his head and saw the others disappear through the tunnel.

Sam couldn’t leave Eryn to die so he ran into the smoke too. He tried to stay low and searched for the Indigo.

“Oh, you must be Eryn,” Sam heard someone say with a strong British accent on his voice. He tried to figure out which way he had to go and found, after tumbling over some bodies, Eryn standing in front of a man in some sort of suit?! From somewhere under the skirt, she grabbed a pretty long knife (witch was kind of impressive to hide under a skirt). Hadn’t Dean said that he saw someone get killed by a knife in one of the visions he had during his reading with the psychic-grannies?

Sam didn’t get the time to think about it. The British guy in the suit was talking to the phone, totally not impressed by Eryn.

“We found one Indigo, mister Davies,” He put the phone away and looked at the Indigo. Then he took his gun and said:“Please put the knife away, miss.”

When she started sprinting towards him, he shot at her hand, seemingly missing on purpose so she would drop her knife. Sam stayed down and searched his pockets. Shit, he didn’t have a gun with him! Eryn smirked and stared at the man. The man apparently got some sort of memo because he didn’t look her in the eyes.

She kept staring at him. Would her eyes make him feel emotionally empty too, or? Suddenly Eryn noticed Sam, she blinked a few times and went back to staring at the man.

Sam had a plan. It was the least waterproof plan ever, but he had one.

He silently crawled to the back of the man. He heard the sound of a helicopter coming closer. The man laughed.

“The British Men of Letters wants to thank you for your cooperation, miss Eryn,” the guy said, and as the words were spoken Sam jumped on his back. He knocked the guy to his knees and held his face towards Eryn, but before she had the chance to come closer and look him in the eyes, he quickly turned back to Sam, fought through the Winchester’s grip. Then, Sam heard a bang and suddenly felt a deep pain in his shoulder. There was a wound pounding while he was quickly loosing blood. His eyesight went blurry while he was struggling with this British Man of Letters.

Out of the blue, another pair of hands held the British guy too. Sam blinked and tried to see who was helping him. The British man got pounded in the face by someone strong and extremely angry. Sam looked at the face of his helper; Dean. The Brit lost his gun and because of Dean’s strength, he looked Eryn right in her eyes.

Her blue eye started to glow more and more until the light was too bright, while her black eye started crying black tears. She came closer, the man started to scream as if she was torturing him. He tried to close his eyes, but he was stuck, he couldn’t let go of her eyes anymore. The Brit kept screaming and even started to gargle and made weird noises out of pain. He tried to scratch Deans arms to break free, but Dean didn’t even loosen his grip when he started to bleed.

When the man stopped moving, Dean let go of him. For a second, Sam wasn't sure if Dean would keep on using his fists against the lifeless body in blind rage because of the Mark. It almost seemed like Dean was going to do that. Until he blinked and shook his head.

Then he ran to Eryn, grabbed her hand and hurried to Sam. Dean grabbed his brother’s side to help him balance and started running. When Sam was going to fall or go unconscious, Dean dragged Sam further while mumbling to Sam to hold on and to not give up.

The sound of the helicopter was getting louder and louder when they finally ran through the tunnel and to the car where Valo and Cas were stressfully waiting. Dean helped his brother to sit down in the car, the elder Winchester was shaking, but tried to look calm for his hurt little brother.

Sam quickly glanced at Eryn’s eyes and saw they were back to normal.

So Eryn didn’t make shields with her powers.

No.

She could torture people by just looking at them.

Then everything went black.

#dean winchester #winchester #Sam Winchester #winchester sister #greece #olympic stadium #olympia #vampire #indigo children #castiel #charlie #oc #sister

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emma-swan · 7 years

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love, emma [4/5]

summary: boy/girl friendships can be quite complicated sometimes—especially when said boy’s in love with said girl and and the whole world seems to know about it but her. a modern day young captain swan au, loosely based off love, rosie.

note: i honestly have no words. none at all. it’s been a year and a half, almost, since i last updated this. i don’t even know what to say about the muse, but i will say that the last chapter’s already planned! so just a bit more to go. a million and one special thanks go out to @ive-always-been-a-pirate who has been my constant cheerleader when it comes to this. this one’s for you, honestly. happy christmas, valetine’s day, and birthday. ten years later, right @optomisticgirl? without further ado, enjoy! feel free to reblog and add tags or comments, as i’ll read them all, both here and on the other websites!

jump back: [one] | [two] | [three]

also on: [ao3] | [ff.net]

As the post-Christmas/pre-New Year’s Eve snowfall begins to pick up with the wind, covering the bottom edges of the window of the hospital room, a red-headed nurse continues her morning rounds.

Checking the numbers on the machine, she writes them down with frown. The numbers read the same as they have for the last couple of days, with no sign of change.

"It'd be nice to see your eyes one of these days." She walks over to the other side of his bed to look over the other machines.

"Oh, I should introduce myself!” She points to the name tag on her scrubs. “Ariel," she says softly. "That's my name. We should be on first name basis considering you're the first patient I see when I make my way around this place."

They switched the rotations two days before Christmas and while many nurses usually weren’t a fan of the comatose patients, Ariel didn’t mind.

Sure, the constant beeping of the machines, the whirring and hisses from the ventilator are enough to drive anyone mad on a day to day basis but if the loved ones of the patients can put up with it when they visit, so can she.

She’s in the midst of scribbling down a few notes, some for the doctor, some for herself, when the door flies open. In walks a woman, flustered at the sight of her.

“Hi,” she says, extending her hand out to the visitor. “Ariel. Mr. Jones’s new nurse.”

“You can call him Liam,” the woman says, giving Ariel’s hand a quick shake. “He’d prefer it.”

Ariel nods, jotting that down for herself. She can see the hesitancy in her stance clear as day. Quickly excusing herself, she drops her charts down and bids Liam and the woman a farewell.

The way the woman quickly reaches for Liam’s hand and sits down on the edge of the bed isn’t lost to her at all.

Henry finds out first.

He doesn't know how but he finds this out after his visit to Liam, three days after receiving the letter, when he spots the young boy yelling at his mother while she stands there, near tears. He was certain he was careful to hide the letter from Emma. He should have known that hiding it from Emma didn’t mean he’d be able to hide it from Henry.

(In hindsight, he should have carried that letter with him, even if it felt like the heaviest weight imaginable.)

“You wanted to push grandma away before and now you want to push Killian away!”

“Hey!” Killian interjects, shutting the door behind him. He approaches them, stopping just a few paces away from Henry. “Now, you know that's no way to speak to your mother, lad.”

“So you want to leave us? Leave me?”

He doesn't know what's more heartbreaking: Henry looking up at him with those big expressive eyes, about to cry, or Emma standing behind him, hand covering her mouth as she silently cries.

(Both. They both break his heart, because a stupid, impulsive decision and its consequences are tearing his family apart.)

“Of course not, Henry.” He crouches down, level with him, placing his hands on his arms. “But sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do. This is one of them.”

Henry rips his arms away from his hold with a furrow of his brows and a shake of his head before running up the stairs. He doesn't flinch until he hears the sound of a door slamming upstairs.

“Emma,” he begins to say, standing up.

She holds a hand up and shakes her head.

“Don't. I can't. Not right now,” she says. “I need some air. Just...watch him. It's the least you can do before you go.”

She grabs her coat from the hook and heads out, slamming the front door on her way out.

(He deserves that. Scratch that. He deserves everything and more coming his way.)

Ariel throws her hair over her shoulder, scribbling down a few numbers on some lines, a few notes below.

Nothing changes. Nothing has changed since she's been assigned to Liam Jones. They’ll probably think she's lost her mind for talking to a comatose patient, but sometimes she swears he can hear her.

She has to remind herself they’re called Christmas miracles and not New Year’s Eve miracles.

“Your brother stopped by today,” she says, adjusting the book left behind yesterday. “I didn't mean to eavesdrop but he said something about a long departure. Vacation maybe?”

She flips the book open to the front cover, seeing the shaky letters of a child spelling out ‘PROPERTY OF HENRY SWAN’. That answers yesterday’s question.

“You also had another visitor today. She and your brother bumped into each other in the hall,” she continues, holding the chart against her chest. “Does your brother know you're involved with her?”

She swears she hears a brief switch in his heart rhythm, but by the time she makes her way around to check for fluctuations, it's gone. The history shows nothing, either.

“I'll be back tomorrow. You'd better have an interesting story to share, too,” Ariel says. She reaches down and gives his arm a squeeze before walking out of the room and onto the next one.

The days pass much too quickly for their liking. With each new morning after Christmas, they’re reminded of the fewer ones they have left together before his departure. She hasn’t banished him off to the couch yet, both having agreed to act at least somewhat normal for Henry’s sake. After all, they wanted him as unaffected by this as possible.

(She doesn’t see how that’s likely considering he found the letter, but that’s neither here nor there right now.)

They fall asleep with enough room for Henry between them and awake with just the same. It isn’t until the morning of New Year’s Eve when she wakes up in his arms, limbs tangled together, and doesn’t make an effort to move.

“You’re awake,” he says, chest rumbling against her cheek as he speaks.

“So are you.”

His hand snakes its way into her hair, fingers giving a gentle tug as he tilts her head up to his. Her fingers at his back tighten on his shirt, breath caught in her throat as his lips near hers. She only blinks, eyes glancing down to his lips then back up at his own, before he kisses her.

She stills, ready to protest about morning breath and other things, but when he pulls away and looks down at her, it all seems so trivial in the grand scheme of things. So she tugs him forward again, hand at the nape of his neck as she crashes her lips onto his.

He nudges her onto her back, tongue moving against hers in a way that has her feeling like this is more than just a few days of pent up frustrations—like this might be goodbye. Her head’s still spinning when he sits up, reaching behind him to tug his shirt off.

“The door,” Emma says, trying to catch her breath.

Killian shakes his head. “It’s fine. Everyone’s still asleep.”

He swallows her protests with his mouth, lips on hers once more. His fingers only reach underneath her shirt, skim along her ribs, before their door’s thrown open. They jump apart, Emma holding the blanket up to her chest as Killian hides underneath.

“Uh, what are you guys doing?” Henry asks as he stands by the door.

“We were…” Killian begins to say.

Emma quickly adds an, “About to make coffee.”

Henry raises an eyebrow that’s so clearly Killian, making Emma’s heart race then and there

“Well, don’t bother,” the boy says, hand still on the doorknob. “Grandma’s making some downstairs. She sent me to get you two for breakfast.”

“We’ll be right down, lad.”

He offers them another weird look before heading out and shutting the door behind him

So much for everyone being asleep, Emma thinks as she glances over at Killian. He hesitates for a moment before relaxing into the mattress. There’s a smile on his face for a split second before it slowly fades.

It only takes a moment for the smile on her face to fade too, as the morning, the day, and his impending departure all seem to dawn on her, too.

It’s no better when they arrive downstairs. Ingrid quickly sends them both off on errands, last minute things that need to be bought or picked up before the new year arrives. While the time out of the house, together, would have lifted their moods, the air remains thick with the realization that they may not have this come next year.

(Henry opting to stay home brings back the pain once more.)

Potlucks held at a diner don’t make so much sense, except when it’s the only place big enough to house everyone Ruby and Granny have invited. It’s not the first time Emma, Henry, Ingrid and Elsa spend at the diner, ringing in the new year.

It is the first time, in quite a long time, that they’re not joined by the elder Jones brother but by the younger.

He figured the normalcy of the last few days would have carried through until tonight. He figures, after his second glass of rum by the counter, that he shouldn’t have assumed such things. The moment Emma stepped through those diner doors, she had gravitated toward Graham and Ruby.

If it weren’t for David keeping him company, he would have done something to stop the twitch in his jaw.

He tries not to look over at her all night, truly plans on allowing her to continue avoiding him until the sun comes up, but he cracks when the countdown to midnight starts. He sees the way she slips away from the crowds as couples gather together, readying for the midnight kiss

Ten.

He picks up his glass.

Nine.

He knocks back whatever’s left, eyes never leaving hers.

Eight.

Oh God, that shouldn’t still burn.

Seven.

He places the glass back down.

Six.

He gets up from his stool.

Five.

They make eye contact.

Four.

He walks over to her.

Three.

He licks his lips.

Two.

He grabs onto her waist.

One.

He kisses her.

Happy New Year!

Everything else falls away the minute their lips touch. The letter, the anger, the avoidance all seem like things of the past as he pulls her closer to him. Her hands come up, both resting on his chest. He expects her to push her away, to break their little bubble, but she does the opposite.

She grabs onto the jacket he had slipped on a while ago, when he had thought about just leaving before midnight came, and pulls him closer to deepen the kiss. He’s pretty sure he moans at the feeling of her tongue finding his but he can’t seem to care when she’s still here in front of him and they still have some time left.

Except, even that time’s cut short. Someone coughs, loudly, and has them jumping away from each other like they’ve been burned. Emma doesn’t wait for everyone’s reactions or from word from Killian or anything. She simply pulls away from him and heads to the back, away from the whispers that begin in the wake of their actions.

He, once again, ends up alone.

Emma and Killian stand outside Liam’s door as Henry sits inside, storybook open in his lap. While she didn't wish to be here today—it's the day before Killian leaves and ever since the New Year’s Eve midnight kiss, she's been avoiding him like the first time he left—Killian insisted on letting an overly eager Henry tag along.

Neither one of them thought that would mean getting kicked out of the room because Henry has “important things to discuss” with his comatose uncle. His voice carries out the still opened door, talks of fairytale characters and true love and happy endings making her chest ache.

She won't get any of that, because her real world happy ending and true love happen stands before her, ready to leave in twenty-four hours, unsure of when he’ll return.

“I think that makes you Captain Hook’s brother,” Henry’s voice carries, followed by the sound of pages being flipped. “Except he’s dead and you're just asleep. So maybe you aren't.”

Emma crosses her arms and leans against the wall on one side of the door. She glances over at Killian, position mimicking her own, and can't help but shake her head at the small grin appearing on his face. Ever since Henry had taken to storytelling and this book, he's always compared them to characters in it. Emma always told him otherwise; a story without Henry in it was not one with her happy ending.

Killian? Well, Killian probably enjoyed being compared to Captain Hook, of all people. All she got was the lost Swan Princess.

“I asked my mom once if maybe we were cursed, like the people in this book,” Henry says softly. “She said no, because she has me and Da—Killian. And cursed people aren't happy like she is.”

She casts her eyes down to the floor, feeling the blush start to creep up her cheeks at that. She remembers exactly when she said that: when she felt like her family was finally complete.

“Was happy, I guess. Because now he’s leaving us. Me.”

She doesn't register Killian’s presence until she opens her eyes and looks down at the boots against her own, toe to toe. His hands are warm as they cup her face, tilting his head up to hers. She sees the tear slip from his eye and knows this is killing him just as much as it’s killing them.

“Please don't leave me, too,” Henry says.

She grips his henley tight, afraid of what her hands might do if she lets go in that moment. He doesn't seem to be, because milliseconds later he presses his forehead against hers, noses brushing. If she inches forward she knows they’ll kiss and it won't be like last time because the anger’s morphed into hurt and she’ll take what she can get at this point.

Their lips only brush against one another’s before Henry’s frantically shouting for both of them, causing them to jump apart. Killian grips her hand and tugs her into the room with him, stopping still at the sight before him.

“Killian! What are you—” she begins to say but falls silent when the sight catches up with her too.

There, before them, stands a shocked Henry, held in place. That thing keeping him in place?

Liam’s hand on his arm.

“Everything okay in here?” Ariel asks, appearing behind them by the door. She takes one look at the stunned family before she looks over at the man in the hospital bed and her eyes widen.

“Oh.”

(Except that last voice doesn't belong to Ariel at all.)

If you were to tell Killian this morning that—on his last day in town—he’d be mediating his comatose brother’s love life, he’d laugh at you. Yet, here he sits, inside his brother’s hospital room, talking to Tink of all people.

(It’s a shame that of all nicknames she’s had over the years, this one stuck most of all.)

She’s explained it, twice, and still Killian doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why she feels obligated to visit so often; what the phone call—just before his accident—between the two of them means; how Elsa’s been making her own regular visits here, too, and the two have yet to bump into one another, nevermind Elsa never mentioning being on the outs with his brother.

Emma only shifts in her seat, watching the conversation unfold. She had offered to step out of the room, but one quick look from Killian and she knew he couldn’t be left alone. Not with this. After all, Tink’s been her friend since she first walked into town and Killian’s known her for what seems like forever.

Maybe that’s why neither of them can quite process the story of Elsa and Tink and the comatose man there before them

“So you’re dating my brother?” Killian asks for the third time this afternoon

“No!” Tink quickly says. She opens her mouth to speak then shuts it, shaking her head. She takes a moment to compose herself, to find the right words, before she crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s complicated. Just...not the kind you think.”

Ariel could only keep Henry away for so long, it seems. Before Killian can ask another question, the two of them return from their trip to the cafeteria downstairs. He carries a small covered cup with him, and with the way he happily drinks it she’s certain it’s the hot chocolate he had been craving since this morning.

“Are we leaving yet?” he asks, making his way over to Emma.

“Right now,” Killian says, answering for her. He doesn’t wait for Tink to say anything, doesn’t say anything to Ariel either as he gathers Henry’s book and leads the boy out of the hospital room.

Emma only offers the two of them an apologetic look before she follows them out and down the hall. His silent demeanor continues as they step into the elevator so she opts for silently standing there, giving him his space; a quick glimpse at him and she’d be able to spot the clenched jaw, the emotions that swirl inside of him because of everything.

Him leaving.

(His doing.)

The uncertainty of them going forward.

(His fault.)

Liam still in a coma.

(While not directly his fault, he’ll still take that blame on, too.)

He holds Henry a bit closer as they ride the elevator down; the young boy, for the most part, silently sips his hot chocolate as he leans against Killian. He finds comfort in knowing he hasn’t pulled away from him.

For one split moment, he forgets about it all. He forgets that he’s leaving in the morning, that he’s well on his way to splitting up his family, and that there’s nothing he can do to stop this.

As he steps back into their room, teeth brushed and face washed, he spots Emma curled up in bed. He wonders, briefly, if he should take the couch tonight, but her outstretched hand immediately answers that question.

“Thought you were asleep,” he says, settling into bed next to her.

She shakes her head before she rests her head against his chest. “Can’t sleep.”

It’s not long before their legs are tangled together, Killian’s arms wrapped around her as her head finds the crook of his neck. His heart’s racing, he can hear it, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

A small voice jolts them both from their peace. Emma lifts her head up just as Killian does, both of them spotting Henry by the door. He moves first, shifting the blanket out of the way as she waves him over.

He settles between them, resting his head against Killian’s chest as he grabs Emma’s arm and wraps it around him.

“Love, I—” he begins to say, but she just shakes her head.

“Don’t,” she tells him. “Let’s just enjoy this. Please.”

“Okay.”

He drops a kiss atop Henry’s head before sleep claims them all.

Saying he leaves like a thief in the night would be too kind, too poetic, too peaceful.

He leaves like a tornado leaving a path of destruction in its wake.

He spends the morning before his flight shoving articles of clothing haphazardly into his bag—though it’s not like he needs many.

Whatever happiness they experienced last night was fleeting at best. Henry ran off to his room the moment he awoke and hasn't uttered a word since he asked Ingrid for more cinnamon on his cocoa.

Killian doesn't need the reminder of his own kid not wanting to spend time with him to know he's messed up—badly.

The car ride to the airport’s spent in silence, Killian having said his goodbyes to Ingrid at the house before she left for the ice cream shop, leaving him with the two people he never expected to disappoint showing their complete, well, disappointment in him all the way there.

He expects her to just drop him off and drive away, knowing it’s what he’d deserve after all of this anyway. Still, Emma Swan proves just how much better she is than him. She parks and tells Henry to watch his step as he gets out, both of them planning on walking him inside.

Henry reaches for his hand the minute he hops out of the car, eyes unable to lift themselves from the ground. He almost breaks down then and there at the thought of leaving them and the realization that he doesn't deserve two kind people as them.

“You have your boarding pass?” Emma asks, stopping by the start of the security line.

Killian nods, waving his phone. “In here.”

“Passport?”

He nods, patting at the duffel bag on his side as Henry’s hand tightens around his own.

“So I guess this is it.”

(Little does he know those words will come to refer to more than just his departure.)

Before he can think about the line he’s to join soon, before the thoughts of his stupidity, his impulsivity come racing back into his mind, Emma grabs his jacket and pulls him to her. She presses one final kiss against his lips before pulling away to rest her forehead against his.

“Come back to me,” she whispers. He drops a kiss against her forehead, blinking back the tears that won’t seem to go away.

The small tug on his hand brings him back to the airport, seeming to thrust him back into the fact that he’s leaving now. Crouching down, he drops a kiss against Henry’s cheek before enveloping the boy in his arms.

“Be good for your mum, you hear me?” he whispers, smiling once he feels Henry nod against his shoulder. “I’ll write and call as often as I can.”

“You promise?” Henry asks, pulling away. Killian nods, pressing another kiss against his forehead before he stands up.

Emma wipes her eyes, pointing to the security line. “Go. Before you miss your flight.”

He nods, leaning over to drop one last kiss against her lips. He watches as Henry slips over to her side, grabbing onto her hand so tightly his knuckles turn white.

And when he disappears into the crowd of people, they do too.

Months pass before they hear from him.

He calls, briefly wishing Henry a happy birthday despite the actual date being a week or so away. He’ll be stationed somewhere far away, he tells them, but promises to send Henry a birthday card when the day arrives.

The day arrives but the card doesn’t; neither does a phone call.

At least, not one from him.

The frantic yet happy voice from the hospital letting them know that Liam’s regained the ability to breathe on his own again provides them with a bit of good news.

“Kid, get your feet off the bed,” Emma scolds, returning back to the hospital room with a jello cup and a small cupcake, courtesy of Ariel over at the nurses’ station. She drops both on the table above Liam’s bed, sliding it over to Henry.

Henry groans, shifting his feet off the edge of Liam’s bed before he turns his attention back to the book in his lap.

Sure, spending the day visiting your not-as-comatose-not-quite-brother-in-law wasn’t the ideal way to pass the time on your day off, but if your kid asks to spend the day with his third favorite person the day after his birthday, who is she to deny him that request?

She knows it won’t make up for the fact that they spent the day hovering over her cell phone, waiting for a call from Killian that never came, but she hopes it’ll help. From the way he’s deflected any and all talk about him, she doesn’t think it will.

“If you’re not going to eat your cupcake, I’ll gladly take it off your hands,” she says, reaching for it once more. Henry simply narrows his eyes up at her, causing her to hold her hands up in surrender before she takes the vacant seat on the opposite side of Liam’s bed.

The man has a bit of color to him, now that he can breathe without the ventilator, but the fact that he hasn’t woken up yet worries them a bit. Sure, the doctors say that’s all normal and to be expected, but that hasn’t stopped them all from worrying that day won’t come.

Emma reaches for the remote atop the table, flipping through the channels until something catches her eye.

“Hey, look,” she says, pointing to the screen. “That looks like one of the boats Killian told us about, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not a boat, mom,” Henry says, looking up from his book. “It’s a—”

“Ship.”

Her eyes widen at the foreign voice, hoarse and raspy and evident of the lack of use in so long.

“It’s a ship.”

Henry slams his book shut, all but falling out of the chair as he steps closer to the bed, closer to the man stirring awake.

“Ariel!” Emma calls out, thumb frantically pressing the red button next to his bed. “Ariel, get in here!”

As the redhead enters the room, she stops, hand flying over her mouth in shock. Emma follows her gaze, not to the man on the bed but to the television screen where a new ship graces their screens and a familiar face scroll appears.

She freezes, eyes scanning the headline just above the red BREAKING NEWS bulletin.

EXPLOSION ON USS ROGERS DURING HOSTAGE SITUATION. CAPT. NEMO AND LT. K. JONES CONFIRMED STILL ON BOARD.

to be continued...

tagging a few friends: @ive-always-been-a-pirate, @optomisticgirl, @lesliesbknope, @swankkat, @captainswanouat, @captainstudmuffin, @hookedoncaptswan, @hook-come-back-to-me, @swanemma, @sherifffjones, @shady-swan-jones, @timeless-love-story, @spartanguard, @swanemma and i don’t know who else to tag, and if i’ve forgotten to tag you i apologize but let me know for the next update and i will definitely tag you!

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fanfic #cs angst #cs fanfics #my fics: le #my fics #better late than never right!

87 notes · View notes

mtdwn · 7 years

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STAGES OF GRIEF

The five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance are a part of the framework that makes up our learning to live with the one we lost. They are tools to help us frame and identify what we may be feeling. But they are not stops on some linear timeline in grief.

Denial

LIFE AFTER HIS mother’s passing was difficult. there would be days where he woke up covered in sweat, a scream lodged in the back of his throat, and others where he woke up to tears falling down the slopes of his cheeks. the days he woke up as if all that had passed as if it were a dream were the worst: he’d wake up in his grandmother’s home, disoriented, then distraught when he realized he had reentered the reality where his mother no longer existed. days had turned to weeks, and his mourning continued.

Anger

HE WAS ANGRY. so angry, all the goddamn time. his moods fluctuated between dejection and vexation, with no in between. so strong were his emotions, that they affected his relationships: the camaraderie with his friends, the tentative one with his grandmother, and the fledgling love with his girlfriend. he didn’t have anyone to blame, couldn’t really blame anyone, as his therapist had said, but haru hadn’t cared. he’s lost a reason to live, and now he felt the need to find one.

SO HE FOUGHT. he fought with his friends who only wanted to help him, argued with his grandmother who worried endlessly over him and the bruises that only worsened every time he came home past curfew, and habitually ignored the girlfriend who only wanted to make him smile.

IT WAS THE lowest point in his life. it was the worst.

Bargaining

HARU HAD NEVER been a person who believed in god, nor the power of prayer, but he found solace in prayer, something which fighting and sleep didn’t provide. it was solitude, being lost in his thoughts as he spoke to some higher power, an unknown entity that humans had put up on a pedestal to feel better about how shitty their lives were. he had scoffed at it the idea of prayer, refused to listen to his grandmother than meditation could help, but after all her nagging, he gave in one evening and indulged the crone.

AND AFTER A moment, his mind cleared, emptied itself of all thoughts. he could hear his own breathing, feel every rise and fall of his chest, as he continued to focus on the motions of basic existence, haru found comfort there; just existing. so he prayed like his mother advised, spoke into the temple of his mind, felt more than heard his words reverberate back towards him, causing the tips of his fingers and toes tingle.

if I could turn back time, haru started. i would ask you to choose her, rather than me. I would want you to save her; not me.

A STORM BREWS in his psyche, the inner workings of his world suddenly careening back to the few seconds in which haru watched his life flash before his eyes. his breathing quickens as his heart thunders in his ears. he’s relived this experience in his dreams far too many times, and no matter how many times he imagined that night would go differently, every time he and his mother entered that damn car, she would always die.

HE COULD ONLY listen as his mother choked out her last words, could watch as his mother’s spirit left her body.

" please ! " haru cried, eyes flying open as he feels his grandmother wrap her bony arms around him, shushing him as he continued to cry. " take me ! take me instead—god just please— "

HIS BREATHING IS ragged by the time he’s quelled the last of his tears. too tired to cry, too tired to care, too tired to move. that night, he sleeps beside his grandmother, basking in the comfort she provided.

Acceptance

IT HURTS LESS and less as time passes. haru hadn't realized he'd begun moving on until his girlfriend asked how he was faring. it had been an innocent question, but one that catapulted him back to square one. she had been distraught, all attempts to console him with shushing and sweet words only fueled his ire. he lashes out, hissing cruel words through clenched teeth, which he hadn't meant then.

BUT THE DAMAGE had already been done. before he could beg for her forgiveness, she had dumped the rest of her drink atop his head, leaving him behind without a backward glance. her actions were justified, and knowing that much made haru believe he was the asshole everyone claimed him to be.

REALIZATION DAWNS ON him that the emotion pooling in his gut had not been anger, but rather, guilt. he felt guilty for moving on, for taking the advice of his grandmother and the apparition that appeared before him that night. he felt shame for continuing to live on, leaving his mother in the past and only looking forward.

HE BRINGS THIS up to his grandmother later that day after the old crone practically shoves him in the shower when a cloud of unseen flies follow him. she watches him with a thoughtful expression as he recounts his innermost thoughts, and pauses after his tale to give his grandmother time to response.

" your mother wouldn't have wanted you to mourn her in the first place, " the old woman finally says. " she would have told you what i've always told you: live on. don't look back, just look forward. don't feel guilty. there's a difference between forgetting and acceptance, haru-yah. "

IT WAS AS if a weight on his chest had been lifted and for the first time, haru could actually breathe.

" i'll never forget her, " haru promises. " never. "

THE NEXT DAY he waits in front of the school gates for his girlfriend. with his back pressed against the gate, one leg bent at the knee, haru was the picturesque forlorn lover. his expression brightens when he sees her round the bend, and as he quickens his gait to meet her halfway, he already realizes something is amiss. despite the awkward atmosphere surrounding them, he greets her politely, matching her pace as they continue onward.

WHEN THEY REACH the gates, haru turns to her, his words on the tip of his tongue, but were quickly cut off when she raises a hand to stop him, a gesture meaning that she would speak first, " i can't do this anymore."

" yesterday helped me realized that, " she continues, a wan smile on her face as she lowers her hand. " i can't be the shoulder you cry on anymore, i can't be your verbal punching bag. these past few months have been rocky for the both of us. i watched you hit rock bottom and rise again, so i know that you'll move on from this, too. "

SHE SUCKS IN a breath before continuing, " i'm not what you need right now. yesterday . . . yesterday confirmed that. "

SHE WALKS PAST him, meeting haru's eyes one last time before she ducks her head, blending into the crowd. his shoulder's slump, lips quivering as he fights a frown.

" all we can do is move on, " haru repeats his grandmother's wise words as he takes one step forward, and another. his feet move without him knowing, ushering him forward until he's engulfed by the crowd. until he disappears into the sea of people.

#☆*:・ﾟ ┊ these thoughts under my pillow contain memories

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