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pretty-batty · 2 months ago

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Crybaby

Eddie x Judy (ofc) Part 11 of Eldath's Priestess 5754 Words

Warnings- SMUT (18+), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, non-penitrative sex, tiddie fucking, monster fucking, mentions of past gay escapades, mentions of past threesome (hinted to be Billy), MEDICAL MENTIONS: needles, overdosing, drugs, intracardial injections. Mentions of major character death. Now on ao3. Thanks to @anakinkshamer, my beloved beta reader and editor. Notes: not canon compliant, also mungrove as a pairing isn't fully addressed, but hinted at.

Summary- As Vecna's power grows, Judy is faced with an impossible choice.

Samwise was bigger than the rest of the demo-bats, waddling at Eddie’s heels like a medium-sized dog. Eddie could only take walks in the dark since he returned home. The yellow of his eyes reflected any light that would shine near him, so sticking to the deep woods would avoid that possibility. Although, the predatory gaze of his personal horde of demo-bats also kept people far from the trees.

This was Judy’s first time joining him, clinging to his arm to keep herself from falling. She understood why there was a “no flashlights” rule, but with the moon covered by pitch black canopy of trees it was impossible to see. No doubt Eddie’s supernatural abilities gave him night-vision, but Judy’s occasional thump “ow” proved that it wasn’t shared.

“You want me to carry you?” Eddie finally asked.

“No, it’s fine.” A lie. It took another scuff of her shoe against a surfaced tree root for her to relent. “Yeah…yeah I’d like that…”

He crouched down, Judy’s hand tracing along his shoulders, feeling around blindly before mounting his back. His arms formed stirrups for her legs. “Your loyal steed, my lady.”

“Thank you, my precious paladin.”

“Paladin,” he finally rose to his full height, Judy wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“Sorry, I thought you’d prefer dungeon master.” She said, pressing a kiss at the crown of his head.

“If I can stay your paladin, that’s all I need. Edward the Stalwart and Princess Nim Hellarad, reunited at last.” He smiled, switching up his gate to provide extra bounce, Samwise chittering in surprise.

Judy rested her chin on his shoulder. “You think they’ll get a happy ending?”

“I’ll make sure of it, buttercup.”

A screeching rang from beyond the trees, accompanied by a torrent of flapping wings. She expected the trees to stir with Eddie’s own creatures as the larger horde passed over them. But they remained, chittering and snapping at each other, none taking wing.

“What’s going on?”

Eddie rolled his head slightly, groaning. “Vecna’s calling.”

“Like the frenzy?”

“Not that bad. It controls the creatures, not me. But my little buddies wait until I give them permission.” He explained. “So, Dustin tried to explain it to me. It’s like those circuits they had us build in school. There are two lightbulbs. The mindflayer is the battery. Vecna is one switch for one bulb. I control the other. If I’m awake, conscious, the connection is possible, if I’m unconscious, then no connection.”

“I’m not even going to try to get you to elaborate.”

“Basically, if I’m asleep, so are the bats. And all I do is take naps so…”

Judy pressed a kiss against the cuff of his ear. “Among other things.”

“My favorite things…” He purred, “speaking of…you wanna go home?”

“Yes please.”

Samwise stayed outside when Eddie continued to carry Judy inside, still on his back. Wayne was at the plant, Margie in bed. Still, they tamped down their giggles as much as they could. Judy reaching back to lock the back door, her hand returned to Eddie’s shoulder, tapping it twice. “Down, please.”

“Nope. This floor is no good, Princess Hellarad. I must find a suitable place for you.” He announced. Swiftly, with new purpose, he moved to the couch, letting her plop down on the cushions. He turned, gazing at her in the moonlight. “No.”

“Eddie come on.” Before she could finish he lifted her bridal style, carrying her up the stairs and into Wayne’s empty room, plopping her on the bed for a moment.

He stood, panting. His face began to glisten with sweat. One more deep breath. “Nope.”

His body hunched over, yanking her over his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her waist, Judy’s arms pressed against the center of his back. She shook her head with a smile, “Goddamnit.”

Eddie opened her bedroom door with one hand, tossing her on her bed. He closed the door, leaning his body against it casually then turning the lock. His eyebrows rising at the click. Judy was halfway done with taking off her pants, shoes already yanked off with the laces still tied. “Eager, are we?” He asked.

“To get my clothes off, yes.” She smiled.

He laughed, slowly quieting as she continued to shimmy her jeans off her legs, panties as well, chucking them to the side. Her thicket of dark hair glistening in the moonlight as it peeked through the branches of the tree outside her window. Eddie’s hand ran down his inner thigh, moving to stroke himself over his zipper. His claws scraped against the denim, eyes soon latching completely to the sight of Judy’s breasts falling from her unlined, wireless sleeping bra.

“You okay, big fella?” She asked.

His top teeth slid across his bottom lip, pulling the bottom stitch taught, releasing a calming breath. “Your tiddies are always so pretty.”

“You have something in mind?” She purred, lifting her remaining clothes over her head, letting them drop to the floor. She laid back on her pillows. Bathing in his gaze as it poured over her glistening skin like honey. She already knew what he wanted, and she’d gladly oblige. Her hands reached down to the meeting of her thighs, her arms pushing her breasts together. Her right fingers stroked along her clit, the left teasing her entrance.

Her breasts were poised perfectly, caged by her biceps, hypnotizing Eddie with each breath she took. He stripped himself bare, climbing from the foot of the bed, over her body. Before he could straddle her waist, cock poised at the bottom of her sternum, Judy raised her left hand from between her legs, running her slick coated fingers down his cock. Just wet enough to slide in with no resistance.

Eddie's cock slid between her breasts, his tip poking from the top, dusky pink against her moonlit skin. Her left hand settled on his hip, her right continued to pleasure herself. After one pass through her soft tits, his tip began to leak. He hissed through his teeth, leaning his head back to reveal his neck to Judy, her eyes latching on his bobbing Adam’s apple.

Her nails gripped his hip just below his scar as he continued to thrust, smiling at the sight of his two clawed hands reaching down pushing her breasts together himself, rolling his dark thumbs over he nipples. Her top teeth dragged over her lip as their gazes met once again.

Her arms relaxed, no longer needing to hold anything in place. She simply focused on her own pleasure, strumming her aching bud. Any sort of orgasm would do at this point. Her other hand migrated up Eddie's torso, running her thumb over his nipple. The friction set him alight, thrusting quicker and shallower. Each time she looked down, she could see his leaking tip, glistening and dripping with need between her breasts.

She gave his nipple a slight roll with her fingers. Eddie's lips parted in a higher pitched moan. But he kept going, closing his mouth with an “mmm” before closing his eyes, Judy continuing the action a few more times. That sound he made was enough, a wave a pleasure spread through Judy's body, leaving her with that gentle buzz beneath her skin.

She pressed her head into the pillow, exposing her long neck. Eddie's thrusts became more erratic. The sight of her, exposed and used, covered in him and nothing else, must have been the last straw. Before he could ask her to stick her tongue out to catch it, his cum spurted from his tip and up her neck. His mouth opened with another cry as more emptied from him. Judy quickly tilted her face down, lips parting and tongue stretched to accept what he had left. He managed a few drops for her before he let go of her breasts, leaving his spent and aching cock bare.

Judy withdrew her tongue back into her mouth, swallowing his spend as he watched, her right hand finally released from under Eddie’s thigh. A combination of his sweat on her forearm and her own juices on her fingers were muted by her aching wrist, wiping her hand and arm on her sheets before bringing it up and rubbing it with her left hand. Eddie reached down with a “here”, taking her wrist in his fingers and massaging it. “Haven’t fingered someone in a while, you’re out of practice.” He smiled.

“I mean…if you’re offering, I can always play with what you have.”

Eddie let out a laugh, “not my thing.”

“Right, Mister Stone Top.” She added, pausing for a second as Eddie fished tissues out of the box on her bedside table. There was a tightness in her chest, nervous about intruding, before letting it go as she asked. “Did you ever try it, before you got with me?”

He gazed at her, gathering his spend from her neck, wiping it away. His expression softened, “yeah…not a fan. It hurt and I didn’t like how it made me feel…like…emotionally.” Eddie threw the tissues away, gathering more as he moved down to the valley between her breasts, now parted to their respective sides. The soft tissues left her skin dry. He continued rambling, “Honestly, didn’t like the head part either. I mean getting head from a dude, great. They go in and like get it done, man. But like…giving head. Depending on the size, it would feel invasive. I would listen to these guys talking about loving big cocks and how they felt in their mouths, and I was like ‘I prefer it not to hit the back of my throat, thanks.’ Just a sensible four is as big as I need.” Eddie tossed the other tissues away, then paused. “You never asked me about that before.”

“You never asked me about my escapades either. Thought it would be…invasive to ask you.” she explained, sitting up and pulling her knees so her chest. She didn’t know why she felt so self-conscious. “Maybe I was scared that if we talked about it, I’d tell you about what I did, and you might get…weird about it.”

“Me? Get weird about that? I think you have forgotten who you’re with, baby. And what we’ve done together.”

Judy’s face felt flush. “Or that I might feel…jealous…of the people you were with.” She continued, “but it’s weird…because I don’t feel jealous. I feel…”

Eddie’s mischievous smile emerged, his nose pushing past her knees and into her face, “turned on.” Judy looked away, lips tight in embarrassment. He let out his signature chuckle, “baby, the image of you going down on another girl has gotten me through many a night.”

“Really?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. But when I got with you, and when we did that thing with whatshisname…I realized I didn’t like sharing you.”

“I didn’t like sharing you either. And you didn’t even fuck him.”

Eddie pressed his forehead against hers, bumping their noses together. “So, whatever we did before, it’s fine. Nothing to be ashamed of. We can use it as spank bank material for each other. I’ll think about you being three fingers deep in a cheerleader, and you can think about me fucking jocks in the ass.”

Judy let out a wheeze before reeling back and cackling, quickly covering her own mouth, making sure not disturb anyone else in the house. Eddie smiled, pressing a kiss on her nose. “Only! If I have your permission. You already have mine.”

She nodded with a regal air, “Of course. You may jack off to my lesbo escapades.”

Eddie hopped off the bed, his softened cock bounced in the air before he got on his knees, bringing his fists down in a pump of victory, releasing a voiceless “YES!”

Judy continued to stifle her giggles, as did Eddie. His eyes followed up her bedside to her legs, the little hairs almost twinkling like rhinestones. She hadn’t shaved in a bit, but her comfort level with Eddie made it so that she didn’t need to fret.

He rose to his feet, climbing over top of Judy again as she lowered her legs. He rested his ear against her sternum, bracketed by her soft breasts. Her skin smelled like him, and a little bit of her too. Her heart’s gentle rhythm playing beneath his stitched-up cheek. “I can’t believe you’re mine, buttercup.”

Judy’s chest ached at his sweetness, soothed by a slight kiss from the corner of Eddie’s mouth. Her long fingers ran through his curls, nails softly scratching at his scalp. Eddie, like the large beast he was, let out a purr.

She smiled, “I always was, baby.”

As Eddie finally drifted off to sleep, the horde of deformed bats in the woods grew silent as well. The night was finally still.

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

Maybe telling Judy their plan was a bad idea. That’s what Judy thought, at least. She could feel the sweat form on the back of her neck as Dustin continued to explain how Rick was the only one who could supply the “sedatives or whatever”. Her face grew hot again, eyes fixed to the cabin floor.

She had no place to argue. These kids were all gifted. Strategic in their planning. But feeling Rick’s eyes on her made the feeling of helplessness worse. Judy finally spoke, interrupting the meeting of the young minds. “You understand that an overdose that size can kill him? We’re just gonna breeze past that. There is a fine line. And we don’t have the equipment that could keep him alive.”

“Under my watch, he’ll be just fine. I’ll make sure of it.” Rick said.

She stood up from her spot on the couch, throwing off the balance of the room as everyone else remained seated. “You? You’ll take care of it? I wouldn’t trust you to water my aunt’s azaleas.”

“You can’t blame me.”

“I can blame you for everything if I want to. You got Joe hooked on heroin, persuaded him not to go to rehab before it got bad. He’s dead. You had Eddie selling the harder shit while you were locked up to keep your product moving, had him selling ketamine, the ketamine that Cunningham wanted, and it ended up with her dead in Eddie’s home and Eddie falsely accused of her murder. If you hadn’t persuaded him to do that, he would be fine, he would be living with me far the fuck away from here.” She reached her limit, “So no, Richard, you won’t take care of it. Because I can’t stand the idea of losing Eddie aga-” She shut her mouth, clenching her teeth.

Dustin stood up, walking himself between her and Rick, his hands up to her in submission. “Okay, that’s fine. You…could do it. Right. You got that training.”

Judy’s eyes stung, realizing she hadn’t blinked the entire time she was ripping Rick apart. She closed her eyes, a rogue tear leaking from the corner of her eye. “Have you talked to Eddie about this?”

“It was his idea.” Dustin insisted.

Thum. It had been years since she felt that. The hallow drum within her chest and the mallet striking it, shaking off the cobwebs. She returned to her spot on the couch, Steve to her right, the arm rest on her left, the door behind her.

Thum.

All she had to do was get up and leave.

Just go. Get up. Get back up.

Steve’s hand moved, resting on her arm. It was softer than she expected, warm. “I’d trust ‘em.”

Her voice came out several decibels lower, “Rick or Eddie?”

“Both.”

The meeting continued the plan being very similar to the one from months back. Separate, go in through different points, weaken him, and send in El for the kill.

Judy finally spoke again, “are we sure it’s just El he wants?”

“What do you mean?” Asked Mike, a slight scoff in his voice, “that’s all he’s been saying.”

“Well,” she continued, “from what I heard, it’s Will too, and Max. And it was the three teens who died in spring. People who were face to face with the Vecna or the mindflayer.”

“When did Vecna see Chrissy in person?”

Judy felt her skin prickle, realizing watching the pieces emerge into a single image. “In 1976, a flu swept through Hawkins. The sickest kids had febrile seizures and went blind. The local bio lab made a treatment. The doctor in charge of it, Doctor Brenner…brought his son.”

“One…” El whispered.

She nodded, “Some of the children who received the treatment were Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson, Patrick McKinney, Barb Holland, Marty Miller, Vicky Blake…and me.” Her last admission was quietest, hanging in the air. “There are others besides me and Vicky that are alive. No one is within twenty miles of Hawkins, except me.”

“So why are you still here?” Robin asked. There was something about her tone, or the ‘still’ that she added that pinched at her skin.

Judy bit back, “Because my boyfriend is here, and now that I know some of you are willing to kill him, again, I’m definitely not leaving.” She knew she was a little sensitive, a nerve had been exposed when Rick arrived. But her bitchiness was surprising to even herself. “Sorry, that was really mean. Maybe it’s the anxiety or something…but all of this,” her hand moved in a circle to her right, “isn’t helping.”

Her stomach started to gurgle, indigestion, again. She reached into her purse, fishing out her Rolaids, unwrapping a disk and popping it in her mouth. As she chewed, her hand cupped her face, rubbing her nose on her own skin in a hypnotic pattern. Their voices turned into a rumble in the back of her mind, rising and falling with intensity.

“Who was Joe?” The voice carried softly over the others.

Judy looked to her right, where Steve once was Max sat. Her ginger braids over her shoulders. She answered, “He was my older brother. Died thanksgiving of eighty-four.”

“I lost my older brother too, well stepbrother.” Max explained.

Judy placed her hand over Max’s, giving a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry to hear that. Not something you can get over.”

“His name was Billy. You might have met him. He was an asshole.”

Judy’s gray eyes widened for a moment, grateful that Max could not see her expression. She knew Billy very well…too well…the way his lips pressed against her skin as it spilled over her leather bralette, how his curls looked in Eddie’s fist. She blinked hard to clear her mind.

“But he was your asshole.” she added, shaking her head with a slight laugh. “I know it.”

Max smiled at that, soft, haunted. It dropped. “He was killed right in front of me. This flesh creature shoved its tendril through his chest, punched a hole right through. I can still smell it sometimes.”

“I wish there was something I can give you to make it easier.” Judy admitted, “but there isn’t. You’ll always think of him, and it’ll always hurt. Just each time you do, try to dig deep and find the good memories. Anything to drown out the last thing you saw.” Her mind wandered to Joe’s face, lids half-closed, color seeping away. She shook her head, blinking again. “Sorry about the unsolicited advice.”

“It’s okay.” Max said, “did you know him?”

She took in a breath, letting it out. A little bit of truth was good enough, perhaps his music selection, “yeah. Scorpions, Ratt, Poison. His regular bands. He was nicer than most of my customers, but I think it was to score the eventual discount.”

“Judy!”

Her gaze moved with the nod of her head. The cluster required her attention. Rick had ducked out before she could see him. They had relocated to the kitchen, a map sprawled out on the dining table. She approached. The huddle parted, Robin quickly caught Judy by the arm. “Hey, I just wanted to check on you.” She took a beat, gathering her thoughts before opening her mouth and “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to come off as mean sometimes I just have those tone problem at least my parents say that I do and I can’t really tell when it happens until it hurts somebody.”

Judy managed a smile, taking both Robin’s arms, “hey, it’s okay. I’m in a place where I can’t…” she searched her mouth for the words, finding none. Just managing a, “ya know?”

Robin nodded, “yeah, definitely.”

“But I appreciate that you’d check on me.” She gave Robin’s elbows a soft squeeze before parting, “I gotta go see what curly wants, before he gets mad at me.”

“Keeping him waiting is never good.” Steve added.

Approaching Dustin, Judy found herself approaching a quartet of young men. Shoulders hunched over the map, murmuring amongst themselves. “So, what do you need?”

“You and Rick need to cover Eddie, the best placement is your house.” Will said.

Dustin continued, “Far enough from a gate that if something goes wrong, it stalls Vecna from being able to regain his bat horde to his location.”

“There is a big chance that this will kill him, you understand that? For all we know, Vecna is what’s keeping him alive.” Judy chewed on her bottom lip, “so either the overdose kills him”

Mike concluded. “And Vecna loses control of that horde permanently.”

“Or Eddie survives the drugs, Vecna dies…and Eddie dies.” Judy finished, “God you guys are really dead set on killing him.”

“We don’t know if it’ll kill him. His wounds have healed. You might be able to restart his heart with a defibrillator.” Lucas introjected.

“That’s not how it works. Defibs only reset an abnormal heartrate.” She explained, “It’s not like tv. You’d have to give him epinephrine, either intravenously or intracardially, all the while doing continuous chest compressions. And I’m not trained to put in a line. Hopefully, in that time, Rick would have called EMS. God knows I can’t bring myself to trust that man.”

“You’ll have to.”

The words spat like hot grease, her lip curling in disgust. “I’ll have to talk to him about this.” She meant Eddie. Her Eddie, who somehow managed to assist in concocting this plot that would most certainly end with his death. Judy was beginning to think he wanted to kill himself. Not knowing that Eddie, in fact, had limited time anyway.

His “not yet” had turned into “not ever” as he pushed the inevitable discussion of his death further away. Robbing Judy of solid ground, until she was blindsided by this eventual execution in 36 hours.

By “talk to him about it”, Judy originally meant scream at him about it until she had an aneurism. But when she got home to him, his sad puppy eyes, his guilt-ridden expression. She could only melt into his arms and sob. The two landing on the entryway floor.

“I don’t want you to die.” She managed choke out, another deep sob wracked her body. “Please, Eddie. Just tell me you don’t want to do this.”

Eddie’s chin rested atop her head. “I don’t want to do this, baby.” He ran his cheek along her hair. She had managed to fold herself into the smallest shape possible, curling into his lap. “He’ll kill me, regardless.” Judy let out another wail, muffled by Eddie’s t-shirt. “I’m so sorry, Judy. Wish I had told you.” His lips parted in her hair, at first to press a kiss, but only to let out a cry of his own. His chest shook against her cheek. His speech became clenched and difficult. “I don’t wanna die, babe.” He hiccupped, “But I w-will.” He sucked in a breath. “Jst wanna do something right.” His voice ran dry, managing quiet whimpers of “I’m so sorry, Judy.”

Wayne and Margie were sitting on the back steps, each with a glass of whiskey in their hands. While Judy had been told of the plan from the Scooby Gang, Eddie had told Wayne and Margie. Their faces now haggard and pale, carrying the heavy burden of the incoming death of another nephew, another son. Samwise, like the dutiful companion it was, stayed at their feet, purring in an attempt to comfort them, only seeming to unnerve them instead.

Within the next day and a half, Judy and Eddie didn’t leave the house, hardly leaving the bedroom. If they did, it was together. Attached at the hip, or both hips, arms around each other. As if they were teenagers again, finally together after almost a decade of avoiding their feelings. But the reason was different this time. In counting down the hours, neither one wanted to miss a moment. Judy could never get sick of Eddie. And Eddie, riddled with terror and guilt, just wanted his girl close. To smell her, feel her, to open his eyes and see her.

“My princess” “my angel” “my girl”, anything he could call her other than her name would pour from his lips. As for her name, he practically breathed it. Wrapped around her, within her, anything he could do.

While they spent their last moments together, Margie and Wayne made their plans to evacuate, at their children’s behest. Wayne was the more reluctant of the two. But after many tears and pleas, Margie was in the beetle driving to stay with a friend in Indianapolis. Wayne, on the other hand, was much harder to sway.

“You needed me, and I wasn’t there.” The older man insisted, “I can’t live with myself again if I failed you a second time.”

“You didn’t fail me, pop. But if you die in this…” Eddie took in a deep breath, “I need you to be here for Judy when it’s done. And me…if I magically survive. Please, just this once, listen to me.” He reached out, the first time he had separated himself from Judy in hours and brought Wayne into a hug. “Please, I need you to get out of here.”

Wayne’s arms slowly wrapped around his nephew, holding him as close as he could. His eyes shimmered with tears before finally relenting, “alright.” He gave Eddie one last squeeze, “you stink, son.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, just…clean yourself up before you do your thing. Don’t want you runnin’ around lookin’ like no one cares about you.” Finally, they separated, Wayne giving his nephew one last kiss on his forehead, ruffling his hair. No doubt something he used to do when Eddie was younger. They said their goodbyes before Wayne got in his car and slowly rolled out of the driveway. He lingered in front of the house for a moment, before raising his hand in one last wave, driving east and out of Hawkins.

6 Hours remained.

Eddie and Judy rarely showered together. Unless they were willing to exert significant effort neither of them could get properly clean. This was their last chance to try again. They got in the shower, bare chest to chest, rotating together in fourths to get properly clean.

“This is so stupid.” Judy laughed.

“Listen, babe, I don’t know what you want from me.” Half of Eddie’s mane was under the water, the other half still white with suds. “This was your plan.”

Judy was in the same situation, a direct mirror of Eddie, water down half her curls, the other sudsy and smelling of oranges. They continued their dance, taking a hour for a normal shower. Taking as long as they needed. Drying each other off gently, peppering each other with kisses when they could.

Attempting to make six hours feel like an eternity. And to their effort, it did. They were cuddled on the couch together when there was a knock at the door. Early afternoon. It was time.

Having Rick inside her home again already set Judy’s teeth on edge. There was only so many times she could stand him patting Eddie on the back, insisting on how happy he was that Eddie was alive.

“I’m not used to this superhero shit, man. You know that.” He reiterated, laughing to himself, “but if it means ridding myself of my stash and starting over in a more legitimate product, I’d call it a win.” Rick paused at the silence, “What? It’s a joke! God, can’t tell jokes anymore with you kids. Always so serious.”

“Garage, by the way. I don’t want that acrid smell in my house.” Judy managed to say.

“No problem, boss.” He gave her a casual salute, gathering his supplies once more and leaving out the back door.

Eddie approached Judy, his claws running down her arms to cradle her from behind. His nose pressed against her ear. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I’ll be alright.”

“No, I’m supposed to be the one doing the reassuring.” She turned in his arms, bringing her hands to stroke his face, trailing her shaking fingers over the crags of his maw. “I just…”

He caressed her wrist, pressing his lips against her skin.

“I don’t want you to die. I can’t do that again. I can’t…” Her voice stopped, hiccupping into a panicked gasp. “Oh God.”

“It’s okay, Judy baby. If anything happens,”

“No.”

“Yes, you need to listen to me.” His hands grasped her by the sides of her face, forcing her to meet his yellowed gaze. “If anything happens, it’s not your fault. It was never your fault. I love you more than…” He shook his head, no words could express it. “It was always supposed to end like this.”

Judy’s eyes bubbled over with tears, completely obscuring her view. Her back teeth ached from the clenching, holding back any wail that wished to escape. “Please, Eddie.” She whimpered.

“You’re mine, buttercup. You always will be.” He brought her face to his, pressing his lips to hers. She gave way, accepting his kiss, his tongue, his reassuring smile. His hands finally released her cheeks and gripped any inch of her curves he could reach. Holding her as close as he possibly could, and adding another inch with each breath, her sobs finally quieted, dancing across her tongue to him. The more he kissed her, the more he could hide his sobs. Each gasp for air was simply that, a gasp. Every draw of her lips soothing his terror, and the taste of her tongue brought him bliss.

He finally spoke. “Or” they finally parted, “I’ll be perfectly fine, everything will go well, you’ll revive me, and we’ll move to Pennsyltucky,” another quick kiss on her nose, “and raise angora rabbits.”

Judy finally wiped her tears away, finally able to see Eddie clearly. His face was red and wet, a testament to his own sorrow. “Perfect.” She whispered.

“Misses and Mister Sondheim.”

“Still wanting my name, huh?” Judy asked, her face found its way to his. Her hooked nose to his cheek.

“Well, I’m not keeping this one.”

The walkie-talkie crackled awake, Robin’s voice rising above the static. “Bat-Daddy, what’s the status?”

“You gotta say over.”

“Over.”

“Bat-Daddy?” mouthed Judy.

Eddie wiggled his eyebrows, “you know it, crybaby.”

“Wait…. wait am I crybaby? Eddie do they call me crybaby?”’

He shrugged.

“Crybaby are you there? Over.” Dustin.

Her top lip twitched for a moment, snatching the walkie from the table and answering. “No crybaby here, but there are two bat parents. You may call me bat-mother, thank you.”

There was a pause before Dustin added, “You gotta say over. Over.”

“Over.”

“Okay, cool. What is your status bat…mother?”

Judy gave a definite nod, “Thank you. Asshole is cooking up what we need. He’ll get us when he’s ready. Then I’ll reach you during bedtime…over.”

“Let’s get you in a k-hole, big fella.” Rick said with a smile, poking his head around the storm door.

Eddie took Judy’s hand, pressing her knuckles to his lips. Then he made his way to the garage, Judy trailing behind.

“Shirt off, big guy. Judy, can you find his entry point? Below fourth rib.”

The two were surprised on his forward nature.

“You said you have emt training?” Rick continued.

“No…just first aid, who told you emt?”

Rick waved off the question, fixing a cap over the epinephrine shot. “Can you do an intracardial injection?”

“I know how, but I’ve never done it before.”

“Okay, cool.” He affixed the shot in the hard leather case, followed by the sound of zippers and clinks of metal. “Here.” Rick’s arms wrapped around her waist, the buckle of the fanny pack clicking into place. “So we don’t lose it. Now,” his attention shifted to a shirtless Eddie, finally getting to see his scars, “fuck bro they weren’t kidding. Uh…belly up on the floor.”

Judy watched Eddie follow the direction. She followed suit, her fingers probing his chest until she found the correct position. The sharpie in hand, she marked it with a heavy circle. “Like those tests say, fill the bubble heavy and dark.” Her hand shook as it drew the marker away, capping it.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby.” Eddie whispered.

She smiled, pursing her lips to blow air on to the mark.

“No babe…over a bit.”

“I’m not blowing on your nipple, you nasty boy.”

Eddie raised his brows again, biting his bottom lip. “Suit yourself.”

“I’ll literally do anything you want when this is over, and you live.” She let out another stream of air, moving her aim for one last puff, gracing over his dusky pink nipple and winking at him as it stiffened.

“You two done? As much as I dig the love, very cool, I do need to knock this boy out before he turns into Carrie or something.” Rick offered Eddie a little cup of pills, rattling off the concoction he had created, comprising of downers and a paralytic.

“Hearing a white guy say ‘dig’ will always be weird.” Judy muttered, watching Eddie sit up and take the cup from his hand. She turned away from both of them before Eddie’s free hand touched hers.

“I love you, buttercup.”

She pressed her lips into a line, swallowing back a sob. “Love you too.” One last squeeze of his hand before he let go, knocking back the pills, following it with a glass of watered-down vodka. Gently, Rick and Judy guided him to the back wall.

“My paladin.” She watched as the medication started to take effect, Eddie’s eyes slowly dulling, lids fluttering closed. Judy rose to her feet, taking the walkie from the table. “Bat-mother to cave, bat-daddy is down. Over.”

It's the homestretch now children. Thank you my friends for reading! See ya next weekend! Ps: don't worry mungrove babes, I got a fic for you in a future. Tag List: @loserboysandlithium @userchai @secretdryrose

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snailsbigrace · 1 year ago

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He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

A/N: Angst, sweet, sweet, angst. How fun. Basically don't read this one if you don't like kinda sad stuff.

Pairing: KEL x Gn! Reader

Warnings: None!

Genre: Angst

Summary: You go to a party because you hear that a good friend of yours is going to be there, you find out something you really didn't want to find out. At least you're taking it well?

Word Count: 2.4k

Rain poured down, the cool night air brushing against your skin violently. You weren’t in much, at least, not enough for the current weather. Hell, you weren’t even wearing shoes, you were in soggy socks. You hadn’t been bothered to prepare yourself, you just needed to get out of the house. So you did, not caring about how you shivered in the cold.

There had been a graduation party at your friend's house, you weren’t going to go, not until you heard that one of your best friends, Kel, was going to be there. Parties were always fun when Kel was there, though he usually didn’t get to go because his parents didn’t let him. But for once they made an exception and let him join a party, you were positive he was probably begging them to let him go and they eventually agreed or that he had simply snuck out. Kel was definitely your typical high school student, always wanting to party and go out with his friends at every given moment, it doesn’t help that he’s so popular. He’s good at sports, gets along with people easily, he’s loyal to his friends, and he’s brothers with Hero who is known by everyone, their parents, and even grandparents. Kel comes from a definitely more well off family as well, in conclusion he’s a fun guy to be around and he’s definitely well known around Faraway Town. So when you heard he was going, how could you not?

When you got there you immediately noticed the rowdy man, causing problems as per usual. He was being obnoxiously loud and bugging basically everyone that was in his sight, though it didn’t seem like they minded all too much. That was the thing about Kel, sure he was annoying but his positive attitude and just how fun he was made up for it, and you’re pretty sure that everyone agreed with that. It did look like there were some people who were starting to get just slightly fed up with Kel, such as the delinquent Aubrey and her ‘gang’. But they just seemed to mind their own business, letting Kel have his fun.

It didn’t take long before he noticed you, giving you the biggest smile you had ever seen in your life. He ran over, without a second thought, quickly engulfing you in a big hug, he once again surprises you with his strength like he always does by lifting you off the ground, but he only lifts you off the ground slightly, not wanting to cause you panic from the sudden action. Your face goes just a little red, he seemed to be in a good mood, but then again when was he not? You attempted to return the sweet gesture by wrapping your arms around him but it was a little hard, he was squeezing the life out of you making it damn near impossible to move at all, you weren’t even sure how you were breathing at the moment. He eventually put you down but kept his hug a little longer before letting go of you much to your dismay.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you were gonna be here! Wowie, that’s so exciting! Why didn’t ya’ tell me?” He tilted his head to the side, almost like a dog would when confused, it was cute. You were told he tried to act like his dog Hector when he was younger, so maybe some of those learned traits never went away.

“Well I wasn’t sure if I would actually show up, but I did! That’s all that matters right?” You decided to mimic the action, tilting your head to the side as well. You giggled slightly when Kel gave you a lost look, not exactly understanding why you did that. He didn’t even seem to realise that he had been doing that as well and was still currently doing it. Your giggling didn’t help as it only made him even more lost. But he enjoyed hearing you giggle, so he played along, laughing as if he understood what you were giggling at. He knew it was something he had done and that’s all he really needed to know. Even though his laugh started as a fake, confused one, eventually it turned real. He lightly punched your shoulder once he finally started to calm down.

“Heh! Yeah! I guess so huh? That’s pretty rad though! Actually hey, I had an idea and you seem like you’d have great input!” He beamed. He was clearly looking forward to your answer.

“Oh yeah? Well hit me with it!”

“Okay, so, clearly all the ladies and even some of the men here want to see more of me right?” He put his hand on his chest in a dramatic overly confident way. You snort but decide to play along with him and his already stupid sounding idea.

“Oooooh yeah, trust me I know. Personally, I would love to see more of Kelsey.” You swear you could see his face go slightly pink for a moment and his expression drop into a more shy look, which is a look that he had never had on his face before. But you must’ve been seeing things because his expression went back to normal immediately. Kel gives you a smile full of pride.

“See! The people want me! So my idea is that I can let them hear my lovely singing voice!” His movements are exaggerated and even still it’s hard for you to tell whether he’s joking or not. Either way you know you shouldn’t encourage it.

“Kel, listen, I would never encourage you to give up on something that’s special to you and that you’re passionate about, but come on, even you know better. I think everyone here likes to hear you talk but if I’m being honest your singing voice is not as nice as your normal talking voice, everyone here would fall to the floor dead if you started to sing.” Kel faked a pout, crossing his arms looking down to the floor, slowly shaking his head. You chuckle and put a hand on his shoulder, just barely able to do so. You seem like a parent who just had a serious talk with their kid and is now trying to comfort them afterwards. “I’m not telling you this because I want to be mean, I’m telling you this so that you don’t embarrass yourself.”

“So you say.” Kel scoffs out, giving you an exaggerated suspicious look. You fake a sad look.

“Also me and your father… We’ve had our run Kel. I’m sorry but we’re-”

“No need to tell me I already know.” He copies your expression, but the dramatic lore you two had just come up with was interrupted by someone calling out to Kel, asking him to go over to them for a moment. Kel gives you a smile, patting you on the shoulder. “Seems like I’m needed, thanks for your advice Y/N! Even if you’re wrong. Catch you later!” You scoff at his comment but watch as he runs off to meet with whoever called him.

Most of the night was great! Even though parties were sometimes awkward it wasn’t this time, because Kel was there. Even though he was with his other, closer friends most of the night you still bumped into him from time to time. He’d give a smile or continue the previous conversation you had by asking questions like “Will you and dad still talk?” or “Do I still get to see dad sometimes?” You’d give him a short response and go your separate ways once more but would inevitably bump into each other again. The night seemed to be going well. Or it was going well, but then you saw Kel, he was talking to someone which wasn’t unusual, he talked to everyone. But this time it was different, no one could miss the way he blushed, or the shy look he gave them. The same one he gave you earlier, which also confirmed that it was a look he had given you, but this time it was consistently on his face. Of course you didn’t want to believe he had feelings for someone that wasn’t you but after the conversation had finished between him and that person you overheard him talking to his friends. They were teasing him about liking that person, he tried to shoo them off, and told them to shut up, even attempting to lightly hit them which only earned laughs from his friends.

The rest of the time you spent in that party was painful, Kel had tried to joke around with you some more when he passed you, just as you two had done before, you did your best to respond and Kel being Kel didn’t even notice that you seemed upset. He took the response you gave him and happily went off somewhere else while you stood there, completely still and silent. It wasn’t until Kel got up onto a table and got everyone to look at him and stop the music did you hope that the night would get better. But it only got much worse.

He started to sing, which you had recommended he didn’t do but it seemed like he didn’t really care all that much about what you said. You didn’t really mind, you got a good laugh out of it at first along with everyone else, but suddenly, just as the night seemed to start getting better the lyrics registered in your head, it was a love song and as he continued to sing he dramatically held out his hand to that person he had been talking to before, he looked like he was trying to poke fun at movies for doing the same thing but with the evidence that suggested he had a crush on that person you knew it was also his way of trying to give them a hint. You stood there unmoving once again, the feeling of tears welling up in your eyes, you were quick to wipe them away though. You didn’t want to be there anymore, you needed to get out of there before someone noticed you were upset, and so you left, and nobody noticed, all too focused on Kel’s act.

This led to now, you were running in the rain, in soggy socks because you had left your shoes and everything else that you used to keep you warm at the house, you’d have to get it tomorrow. Tears were beginning to form and fall but you couldn’t really tell since they were mixed with the rain. You didn’t even know where you were running, you knew you had some idea in your head as you were clearly going somewhere but you didn’t know where specifically, but you trusted yourself enough to know that it wasn’t someplace you would regret going. Soon enough you found yourself outside your house, your body had brought you home.

You were quick to go inside and head to your bedroom, avoiding anyone who might notice that you were upset and in soggy socks. You sat on the floor, too unmotivated to move from the spot and too busy trying to calm yourself down. It wasn’t that big of a deal, at least it shouldn’t have been, so why was it? Sure you had a little crush but why was it now feeling like a breakup? It wasn’t that! You had liked Kel a lot more than you thought you did. You weren’t mad, that was a good thing, not at Kel, not at that other person, not at yourself. Not anyone, and at least the warmth of your home was bringing you some comfort, it was definitely better than outside.

After a moment of sitting there, calming yourself down enough to function, you decided to take a much needed bath and head to bed early. You couldn’t be bothered to stay awake, not while knowing that you could get riled up again. But as you were preparing to head off to bed you noticed a flower, one that you had picked from the ground earlier that day, and decided to give yourself one last chance with Kel and it all depended on this flower. You sat down on the floor once more with the flower in hand and pulled a petal off.

He loves me

You pulled another off.

He loves me not

And again.

He loves me

Why were you trying so hard?

He loves me not

It wasn’t that big of a deal.

He loves me

He was happy.

He loves me not

That’s all that mattered wasn’t it.

He loves me

You should just let him be happy.

He loves me not

You two could stay friends still.

He loves me

But could you really be happy when around him knowing that he loves someone who isn’t you?

He loves me not

Just stop worrying about it.

He loves me

Just close your eyes and move on.

He loves me not

He loves me

He loves me not

He loves me

He loves me not

He loves me

He loves me not

He loves me

He loves me not

He loves me

You pause, taking one deep breath before opening your eyes, you sigh. You had done this in one last ditch effort to convince yourself that maybe you still had a chance with Kel but it seems that the world was just going to give it to you straight out, no games. There was still one last petal, and that only meant one thing. Though you don’t want to, you grab it and without thinking very quickly pluck it off.

“He loves me not.” You stare at the petals all over your floor. You supposed that this was just an extra confirmation that Kel was not interested. That’s just how it was, there’s not much you can do about that. It still upsets you because you had only just found out that Kel had liked someone else, but knowing that Kel would be happy and be with who he wants to be with is enough to give you the motivation to stand up and head to bed. One day you would find someone who loves you, you’d just have to wait until you find them, even if they’re not Kel. Surely this just meant that someone else was interested right? You were sure of it. So trying to not think too much about the awkward conversations that will happen tomorrow, you slowly drift off into sleep, praying that anyone, especially Kel, wouldn’t question why you had suddenly disappeared from the party.

Thanks for reading! <3

#<3 #snailsbigrace #omori #kel x reader #kel x gn! reader #kel x reader omori #x reader #omori x reader #real world kel x reader #omori real world #real world

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭-𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 || helmut zemo, bucky barnes and sam wilson x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : your sugar daddy boyfriend is finally out of prison and he brought a few friends to show you off to.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : just over 4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : smut (foursome/group sex, oral m receiving, spitroast; sliiiight dubcon???), established zemo x reader, sugar daddy relationship, ‘sir’ kink, ‘daddy’ kink, pussy spanking, one regular spank, orgasm control, overstimulation, creampie, a bit of cockwarming, exhibitionism, possessiveness (kinda? but also not at all lmao it’s hard to explain), a bit of degradation but plenty of praise as well, subtle cuckolding but without the usual power dynamics there, shitty reconstructed “sokovian” (I wrote it in the latin alphabet but the cyrillic and translations are at the end), unexpected and unnecessary fluff, very subtle angst (basically all in a flashback anyways)

You were needlessly anxious as you waited for him to arrive. It had been your own idea to wait in the jet, and yet you spent every other second glancing out the tiny window, desperate for a glance of the man you missed so dearly.

If someone had told you all those years ago, when this arrangement first began, how easily he would have you wrapped around his finger… you couldn’t have believed them. It’s just about the money, you would’ve told them, but you would’ve been impossibly wrong.

For a lot of women in this sort of situation, it really was just about the money; likewise, for a lot of men in his situation, it was just about the sex. But the two of you had something entirely unique, nearly indescribable in fact, that very few could ever understand. In the beginning it became clear to you that he was more in need of a companion than a lover or girlfriend, specifically. He was still grieving his wife, still devoted to her completely, but lonely right to his core… angry, even, at the prospect of a life without his family. You were a shoulder to cry on, first and foremost.

You thought maybe he enjoyed spending money on you because it was his way to protect you, in a way he felt he had failed to protect his family before.

And it was you that fell for him first, for his passion and his kindness before his riches or looks. Just when you feared that he’d only ever see you as a status symbol or dress-up doll, he returned your affections in spite of his guilt at first and the two of you were inseparable ever since.

Except, of course, when you were separated, and he was imprisoned, and you were left on your own again. Not that spending his money wasn’t fun or anything, but his loneliness was more sympathetic with each night you spent in that massive bed by yourself, wanting just to feel the warmth of him beside you again.

So, it should be understandable why you were so on edge in anticipation of his arrival. Your painted fingernails toyed with the hem of the dress you remembered he liked on you most— the silk one that barely covered your legs and was only held up by absurdly thin straps crossing at your back.

The night he bought it for you was clear in your mind like it was only yesterday; his voice in your ear telling you how he couldn’t resist taking such a thoughtful, intelligent woman like yourself and dressing you up like a mindless drolja… or ‘slut’ as it might be said in English. Just remembering the way he said things like that sent a shiver down your spine as strong as really hearing it, your thighs clenching together on top of the plush leather seat.

Just as you thought you might go crazy waiting for him, you saw the car pull up— your Helmut at the wheel and his two associates in tow— and your heart soared.

Longer than all the years apart combined was the minute you spent waiting to descend the jet’s staircase, hoping to meet him on the taxiway at the exact right moment. You made sure the jewelry around your wrists and neck was laying just right before finally making your appearance.

The way he looked up at you as you started to walk down towards him… it wasn’t so different from the way he’d looked at you through the glass for the past few years, really, but it felt different. He certainly looked different to you, without the prisoner’s uniform and looking rather imposing with that massive coat instead.

You were careful to still walk slowly, since you were wearing stilettos and all, even when you wanted more than anything to run to him and jump into his arms. Instead, you came face to face with him, loving that confident smirk which never seemed to leave his expression, and slipped your arms around his fur-adorned neck.

“Dobrodošla nazad, ljubavi,” you hummed, pressing your lips to his and almost letting out a squeal of surprise when he immediately slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you aggressively as his gloved hands gripped you at the waist.

He was rarely so bold, but then again he had been alone in prison for so long with only your words to try to satisfy him. As much as you cherished being in his arms again, you also got the impression that this wasn’t just about making up for lost time— if that were true, he would’ve skipped the kiss entirely and taken you in the back of his car the moment he saw you. No, this was a show of dominance, and not only for your benefit; that was clear when one of the men with him cleared his throat loudly and Helmut still didn’t stop.

But that was very much like him: he was never finished with you until he was satisfied, and not a moment sooner. His power over you was so effortless because you didn’t mind at all being his plaything… so much so that it was you leaning in for more when he pulled back, making him laugh softly.

“Did you miss me, lutka?” he purred, and you nodded as you bit your lip slightly.

“Always, Helmut,” you nodded, finally taking a moment to look away from him and at the visibly uncomfortable men at his side. “I heard you freed him,” you said to the man you knew to be James Barnes, “thank you.”

“I’m still not over that,” the other— Sam, as you’d heard— added with a scoff.

“Come on, darling, let’s board the jet and we can talk there,” Helmut suggested, and you nodded as you turned to let them follow.

Of course, you couldn’t be totally sure, but you were pretty confident you could feel three pairs of eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs. Honestly, with how short the dress was, there was a risk of your thong being exposed as well, exactly the sort of almost-subtle teasing your Baron loved the most.

Once inside, Helmut showed James and Sam to their seats, and took his own as he instantly pulled you into his lap. You caught the other two men glancing to the empty fourth seat, knowing there was plenty of room for you two to stay apart, but could they really blame you after how long you’d been alone?

Throughout the takeoff, one of his strong hands rested comfortably on your crossed legs as the other held his glass of champagne, and Sam’s gaze was attached to the way his thumb gently stroked your thigh while James seemed to be doing his best to look literally anywhere else.

“I noticed you haven’t introduced us to your… friend…” Sam trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, yes,” Helmut chuckled as if he actually forgot, “this is the woman who has been managing my estate in my unfortunate absence.”

“You’re trying to tell us this is your accountant?” James grumbled.

“She’s also my lover,” Helmut relented.

“Obviously,” Sam replied, unamused.

“She’s beautiful, no?” Helmut prompted as he ran his fingertips higher up your thigh, only glancing at the other men as he focused mainly on nuzzling against your neck.

“Yeah, the finest money can buy,” Sam quipped, earning a cold glare from you and your man.

“Are you with me for my money, draga?” Helmut asked you quietly as he planted a gentle kiss to the spot right where your neck met your shoulder. You smiled and shook your head, staring right at Sam’s nervous expression.

“No, sir,” you answered aloud, and the title clearly made both of the other men uncomfortable… if, perhaps, in different ways.

“Uncross your legs,” he demanded, though his tone was still soft, and you obeyed right away as he started to lightly move his touch between your thighs.

James began adjusting in his seat and never really stopped, tugging at his jeans in an obvious attempt to conceal the growing bulge between his legs, but you only laughed at his clear embarrassment.

“See how respectful she is?” he cooed his praise, addressing the other men but keeping his eyes on you. “I know exactly the words to make her obey to my every whim… James, you and her share that quality.”

The man sneered as you suppressed a giggle, squirming in Helmut’s lap impatiently.

“She’s loyal, too, unendingly dedicated,” he continued. “You know she visited me weekly in Munich, at the very least? Always by my side… like any good pet.”

A whimper escaped your throat at that term, your gut burning with need as he balanced praise and degradation effortlessly. You didn’t find it truly demeaning only because you loved being his plaything so much, and because you knew mutual respect was at the core of your relationship with him. But, still, it was nice to feel small when he was there to keep you safe.

James watched with a small snarl and Helmut slipped his hand into your panties, and Sam licked his lips but shifted his stare to your face instead, just as your eyes started to roll back and your head fell weakly on Helmut’s shoulder.

“And such a precious little pussy as well,” he added darkly, giving you a spank between your legs to make you choke on a squeal. “Sweet, delicate… much like a Turkish delight, but even more addictive.”

“Please, sir,” you whispered under your breath.

“You want more, don’t you? Tako očajno…” he chuckled. You nodded, already starting to soak through the lace and rock your hips. “You want to be fucked, yes?”

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Be polite and take care of our guests first, draga,” he encouraged, kissing your neck one more time before releasing you from his embrace.

Although you were most interested in being with the man you loved, you were happy to obey whatever he wished— and, frankly, sinking to your knees on the jet’s carpeted floor to crawl towards James wasn’t exactly lacking in its own appeal.

James’ eyes narrowed as Sam’s widened, and you sat up between the spread, denim-clad thighs as you blinked up at him and licked your lips.

He tensed up slightly as your hands delicately slid up his legs, his Adam's apple bobbing with a dry swallow when you grabbed his belt buckle and began to open it.

“You… you don’t have to…” he mumbled, apparently too distracted to finish his sentence.

“Yes I do,” you denied. “Because he told me to.”

Sam winced and looked away as you unzipped James’ fly and pulled his jeans and boxers down to expose his cock, already hard and leaking a bit from the tip. You smiled proudly, but chose not to tease him for his eagerness and instead just get right to work; you gripped him at the base and gave a few kitten licks over his shaft, savoring the taste of his precum and looking up at his expression that was equal parts shocked and sultry.

You only spent a moment suckling on the head before skipping right ahead and deepthroating him all the way to base.

“Oh, fuck,” James choked, reaching up grab the seat behind his head as his back arched, making you want to smile though you thankfully kept it down.

“Well-trained, isn’t she?” Helmut interjected proudly.

“Y-yeah,” he answered, his other hand grabbing your shoulder tightly as you began to bob your head.

Occasionally, in your peripheral, you caught Sam looking, and it made you wiggle your hips with the desire to rub your throbbing clit against the floor.

You got a chance to breathe whenever you pulled back to suck the head and stroke the rest with your hand, and in a few minutes you had already found all the little spots that made him moan the loudest, or made his legs quiver a bit by your sides.

“Stop,” Helmut instructed, and you were already starting to pull off when James hissed and grabbed your head to hold you down.

“N-no, please,” he blurted out.

“She’ll come back to you but Sam is looking rather lonely in the corner over there,” Helmut explained, and James hesitated but let you go. You wiped your lips and started to move towards Sam, but he shook his head.

“I don’t roll like that, man,” Sam explained, “I don’t want her doing it just because you said so.”

“Darling, won’t you tell us how badly you want to service your new friends?” Helmut challenged, and you swallowed nervously because you were a bit embarrassed to say too much and potentially anger him. But the sparkle in his eyes didn’t seem like he was leading you into a trap… even if the other two men were confident that was what it meant. “You find them attractive, don’t you?”

“Um, yes, sir,” you answered hesitantly, “I… saw them, and I wanted to know what their cocks looked like. And tasted like.”

Helmut smiled and leaned forward, giving you a spank of approval through your dress (which was riding up to show most of your butt anyways).

You looked at Sam expectantly. “May I please suck your cock, Mr. Wilson?”

His eyes darkened and you knew you were on the right track. “What happened to ‘sir’?” he asked coyly.

“I only call Helmut ‘sir,’” you explained, “but I could call you something else.”

His finger curled to encourage you to come closer and you crawled up to sit between his legs.

“Call me ‘daddy,’” he finally instructed, opening his belt and pants for you.

“Yes, daddy,” you nodded, keeping your mouth slack for him to push his cock into. You hummed as the head slid over your tongue, looking up at him as he bit his lip and thrust back into your throat.

“Shit, that’s good,” he whispered, guiding your head at the speed he wanted. “Who taught you how to suck cock so good, baby?”

Helmut raised his hand and James snorted.

Sam was a bit longer but he was still no challenge to swallow all the way down, and you heard him breathing through his teeth but let your eyes fall shut to focus on your work.

“Is this… how you treat all your guests?” Sam asked tensely between heavy breaths.

“Only those who are at the right place at the right time,” Helmut answered cryptically, but you happened to know this sort of occasion was incredibly rare. Although it might seem counterintuitive to some, this was his way to re-stake his claim over you, and after so much time apart apparently he felt he had a lot to prove. “Keep going, but don’t let him come,” another instruction echoed from behind you.

You pulled back to stroke Sam’s length while you croaked: “yes, sir.”

Helmut had you go back and forth for a while, keeping both men on edge and occasionally allowing you to stroke one while you sucked the other, your own need growing so quickly as you dreamed to have something inside you, anything really.

Obviously, he knew exactly how much having a cock down your throat made you wet and desperate. And he knew that such a taboo act of, in a certain sense, breaking fidelity with a man as he not only watched but commanded you to do it would get you right on the edge in no time.

He had gotten in your head so quickly after meeting you, memorized everything that made you tick, and not once had he forgotten.

“I-I’m close,” James warned as you sucked his head, making you slide the tip of your tongue over his slit before you took a break to suck his swollen balls into your mouth. “Fuck, can I come?”

“Not yet,” Helmut instructed sternly.

You felt him tug you back and into his lap suddenly, and he quickly yanked your dress down to expose your breasts to the men in front of you.

“Her tits are hard, no?” Helmut prompted them, and you watched them both nod as a warm hand reached around from behind you to tweak your hardened nipples. “Yes, she really loves to get on her knees and choke on cock. I’d let her do the same to me but I have greater plans for her…”

As if it weren’t obvious what those plans were, he pulled your skirt up to your waist as well, spreading your legs and pulling your flimsy panties aside.

“Is she wet?” he asked the men and they nodded again.

“Drenched,” Sam chimed in.

Helmut gave another spank to your clit as you shuddered, then rubbing slowly as if to soothe the sting. “I’ll teach you what happens when you get wet for another man, little girl,” Helmut growled against your ear, “not to mention two. And they’re Americans, do you have no shame?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whispered.

“No, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he corrected. “I love seeing you act like a whore all for me.”

You hadn’t even realized he’d taken his cock out of his trousers until you felt the thick tip of him prodding at your entrance. It was already a lot just by itself, but then you had these strangers staring at you and for some reason it only turned you on more.

That ‘some’ reason of course being that you loved your Baron taking ownership over you for anyone to see. Clearly, prison had given him much more creative ideas than just fucking on a balcony or against the glass of a window.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked in a hushed voice against your skin which seemed to be burning hot all of a sudden.

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

It took a lot not to cry out as he pulled you down and filled you in one deep stroke, your nails digging into the leather of the chair’s armrests at either side. But more than the sting of pain it felt so perfect, so fundamentally right, and just after your gasp of shock was a sigh of relief.

He sighed along with you and let his forehead fall between your shoulder blades, clearly a bit overwhelmed at being inside you again for the first time in so long. “Draga...” he breathed, “not that I ever doubted… but you must have been faithful to me; you’re so tight, I know no one has touched you since I left.”

“Only you, sir, nobody but you,” you agreed breathlessly, eyes falling shut.

He kissed your back as he started to move your body on top of his, the hands at your waist tightening and tugging on the remaining fabric of your dress. “Tako dobro,” he hissed, “you feel so good, darling, you can’t imagine how long I spent dreaming of being inside you again.”

A tear rolled down your cheek, and it would be impossible to say for sure what caused it— a little bit of everything, really.

Opening your eyes and noticing the way they were staring at you, you leaned forward and took each of the other men’s hard cocks in your hands, stroking in time with the way you bounced your hips on top of Helmut’s.

The both of them had been on the edge for a bit too long, Sam already biting his lip as James thrust himself up into your palm.

“Fuck, please,” James moaned, “I need to come in your mouth.”

“Come closer then,” you breathed, watching him stand up and bring his cock right to your lips which you eagerly gagged on, any pretense long gone as you sloppily sucked and stroked while Helmut thrust up to slam into you.

“Ohh, fuck, that’s it— gonna come,” he grunted as he reached up to press his hand against the ceiling of the jet, and it all must have hit him rather unexpectedly since the moment his musky taste began to coat your tongue, you heard a clanging sound and realized he had pushed up so hard that he bent the steel interior, his other hand tightening into a fist in your hair.

You moaned happily as you swallowed every drop, still sucking even as James’ moans became loud and higher in pitch.

“Fuck, don’t stop, oh god,” he whined, cock throbbing even after he stopped filling your throat with come. You reached between his legs and squeezed his balls a bit and you could tell his knees nearly buckled, causing him to finally pull back and tilt your chin up to stare down at you. “You’re somethin’ else,” he panted, taking a moment to catch his breath before falling back and slumping into his chair.

You looked over at Sam and saw his hand was still lazily guiding yours to stroke over his cock although come already painted his abs and dripped down from his swollen head over your fingers. “Can I clean up your mess, please, daddy?” you asked, voice a bit hoarse though you couldn’t be sure if that was from the deepthroating or just how hard Helmut was fucking you now.

Pulling your hand back, Sam’s eyes followed as you lapped the thick, hot come from your hand, moaning openly at the taste. You sucked your fingers down into your throat, not leaving a drop behind.

He leaned back in his chair and began to catch his breath, both of them now staring at you with that exhausted, glazed-over expression. They looked satisfied, and you considered it your reward for a job well done.

"A belly full of come and a pussy full of my cock, you must be feeling ecstatic," Helmut presumed.

"Yes, sir," you agreed quickly.

All at once he began to fuck you faster, harder, deeper which you hadn't even realized was an option. He growled a string of the filthiest curses in your ear, in Sokovian so the other men wouldn’t understand, with one hand wrapped around your neck as the other pinched your clit almost too roughly. Even in your native language you could barely understand it: how could you when he was so deep inside you?

“Will you come, draga?” he finally asked, voice rough with his own desperation.

“Not until you let me, sir,” you moaned, and he chuckled a bit.

“Good girl.”

But wow, the way he rubbed your clit was impossible to ignore, like he was trying to make your promise impossible to keep. You tightened your jaw, moaning through your teeth now as you fought to keep your orgasm at bay.

“Please sir, I need to come, please— so close, I’m so close,” you mewled.

“I won’t be much longer, either,” he warned. "Too long without you has taken its toll, I need to finish."

“Inside me, sir, please,” you begged, “come inside me.”

You felt him nod against the back of your neck. “Come for me,” he instructed simply, and as obedient as ever, you felt your walls pulsing as pleasure overtook you. Not even meaning to, you threw your head back, and he had to hold you tightly to keep you from shaking too violently as the waves of sensation washed over you.

The heat of him spilling inside you warmed you from the inside out, making you smile happily through the fog of your high and intentionally tighten your walls around him. He hissed and throbbed within you, his fingers digging into your hips now as he held you down against him.

He gave a few more lazy thrusts until finally slowing to a stop, both of you catching your breath eventually.

"My... accountant will be keeping my cock warm for the remainder of the flight," Helmut informed the other men, "I hope you don't mind?

"No, no, go ahead," James approved as his head fell back against his chair.

It was still quite a ways to your final destination so it wasn't much of a surprise that you ended up falling asleep in the Baron's arms, something you used to do every night that had been only a dream for years. Perhaps this afternoon wasn't the reunion you expected, but it was somehow even more perfect than you could've ever wished for.

///

dobrodošla nazad, ljubavi = добродошла назад, љубави = “welcome home, love”

lutka = лутка = “doll”

draga = драга = “dear/beloved”

tako očajno = тако очајно = "so desperate"

tako dobro = тако добро = "so good"

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes smut #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson smut #sambucky x reader #tfatws fanfiction

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honklore · 4 years ago

Text

is nothing sacred? | quackity

(4.6k+ word count, prince!alex, augur/seer!reader, gn!reader, angst, alex has a sucky dad, reader has a sucky family, karl appears as a time traveler ofc, neg and pos religious themes, deification is the belief that when a monarch dies they will become a god, the rapids is a kingdom in this but it isn’t an smp au)

listen to: evermore by taylor swift, foreigner’s god by hozier, (the end) by levi weaver, exile by taylor swift

There’s a warm spring just outside the monastery. It’s hidden in the mountain, a few miles away from the castle walls and yet you find that it’s too close for comfort.

Every bright and loud fanfare that announces the prince’s coming and leaving echoes off of the hills and pours through your peaceful respite. It’s just enough to make you grumpy.

It’s one of those mornings again, and you find yourself floating in the hot spring, eyes open towards the sun, wishing you had more patience with the dear prince you call your best friend.

Your robe is heavy across your torso, floating around your bare legs as you ponder your plans for today. That is, if the prince doesn’t come visit you.

That would be wishful thinking, though. You don’t have to close your eyes to know that someone has blocked the sun. With a sigh, you sink your body beneath the warm water and submerge, blinking the water off of your lashes. “Alex, this is sacred ground.”

“I know,” the prince replies, squatting down to see you. “I tied my boots around my neck, see?”

You stare at the boot he’s proudly holding up, then shift your eyes to his bare feet. “Why are you here? This is my day off.”

“Excuse me for wanting to see my best friend,” Alex sneers mockingly, rolling his eyes. “Listen, are you coming back to the castle tomorrow?”

“We literally have an augury lesson at one in the morning,” you say. “So, yes.”

“Good, I’m going to disprove all of your theories.”

“They aren’t theories, Alex. I read patterns for a living, alright? I know what I’m talking about.”

“It’s not science.”

“Neither is your father deifying your grandfather,” this time you mock him.

He holds a steady gaze, lips quirked into a cheeky smile. “You’ll tell me about the night of my coronation again, right?”

“Because it warned of extreme change,” you say, voice level. “Yet I can’t figure out what’s going to happen. There’s something the stars aren’t telling me, and I have to figure it out to protect you and the kingdom.”

Alex’s eyes are a deep brown that you could probably get lost in, if he wasn’t such a little shit. “Protect me, you say?” He’s flirting now, eyes alight with the thought of annoying you, and if this spring wasn’t so important to you, you would’ve yanked him in already. “Didn’t know you cared that much about me, Y/n.”

Your robes are clinging uncomfortably to your body, accentuating the lines and curves — or lack thereof. “Hand me my towel and look away please.”

Alex closes his eyes and turns his face away, holding out the towel. “Learn anything divine from your swimming trip?”

Alex holds the towel out like a makeshift screen, and averts his eyes while you dry off and change into the clean robe he brought you. As annoying as he is, the prince is thoughtful, and he fills in the places where you lack.

“I was reflecting,” you say, buttoning the front of the robe. “It’s good for you; clears out your soul.”

Alex tosses the towel over your head and ruffles your hair. He chuckles at your protests; taunts you with warmth in his eyes. “You’re so spiritual.”

You glare at him. “I’m an augur.”

“Right,” Alex says, holding the now-wet towel close to his chest. “But you take it so seriously, sometimes.”

“I hate you,” you say, no venom in your words.

“I love you, too,” Alex says. He leans forward, almost as if to kiss your forehead, and then remembers that you’re on sacred ground, and kissing is forbidden.

Still, the very thought of what he might’ve done sends an unwanted flutter throughout your chest.

Wax drips onto the closed letter. You dip the silver stamp into the dark purple puddle, leaving the royal seal behind.

Inside is a letter to your family. It’s a prophecy you’ve received just for them. Despite them disowning you for your gift, you still find it important to warn them of upcoming woe. Like now, for instance, when you wish to warn them about the upcoming rainstorm that could ruin their crops if they don’t take precautions.

You rub your temples and blow out the candle, leaving you in silent darkness.

Your room is on the highest tower of the castle. The turret is small; a circular room with a circular bed and a circular desk and a glass, circular ceiling that showcases the stars to you each night. There’s a telescope standing against the window, a chest for your clothes, and the writing desk you’re seated upon. However, your bathroom is a few stories down, near the bottom of the tower and closer to accessible plumbing.

The door behind you bursts open, and you know it’s the young prince and his lack of basic manners when it comes to privacy. Your privacy, anyway. “What is it, Alex?”

“I’ve been waiting for you in the tower for an hour now, silly,” Alex’s words get softer as the light from the corridor pours in, and he can see what you’ve been up to. He stills, smile faltering. “You had another vision of them.”

“I wish they would stop,” you mutter. If you clench your eyes tightly enough, you can will any tears to suck back into your head. Then you can suffer through a headache, like you always do. You’ve had this “gift” since you were a little kid; you know the ups and downs of using it.

Not that it gives you much choice sometimes.

“Are you drinking the–“

“No,” you snap at Alex. “Look, suppressing them only makes it worse. Prophecies become... darker. I see things I can’t unsee. I have to allow them through.”

Alex has a hurt look on his face, but you can’t tell if it’s because you snapped at him or because he doesn’t want to see you in pain. You selfishly hope it’s the latter.

“We can talk about something less harsh on the mind.” Alex sits on your chest, avoiding your bed. It’s another sacred place for you, same as the monastery grounds. Alex knows the rules of being a seer; the ancient laws you practice. He’s read the same books as you — if just to understand you better. He’s the most loyal friend you can think of: the only person in the entire kingdom who has never questioned your beliefs.

“I can’t stand the thought of them getting hurt,” you admit. “And with the vision about your coronation... I’m so scared this kingdom is going to crumble and it’s going to be because I couldn’t prevent it.”

Alex fiddles with his necklace. It’s a rune, one for protection. You used to wear a similar one beneath your robes, but with your fear of something happening, you’ve made Alex promise to wear it.

“It’s not your job to keep the kingdom from crumbling,” Alex relays. “All you need to do is tell me what you see. Then I hint to my father ways to change the kingdom. After that, it’s up to fate.”

You bite your lip. “Fate has a tricky way of playing its own hand.”

“Then it was never in your hands in the first place, yes?” Alex speaks honestly, but there’s a bit of cheek to his voice that eases your nerves.

You smile sadly. “Your father is too prideful, Alex. I can see it; the ravens, they flock the castle whenever he makes a speech. He wants to become a god. He wants something that’s impossible.”

“He deified Grandfather,” Alex quips, no emotion backing his voice. “Like you said earlier. It’s just to start the tradition, so that when he dies he’ll become holy, too.”

“I told him it was wrong. I told him that the stars foresee ruin if he stays on this trail of pride.” You cast your eyes down to your family’s letter. “No one believes me.”

“I believe you,” Alex’s soft voice urges you to look at him.

He’s quiet. The rune is resting on his outstretched palm and he’s looking at you. “Do you think I’d take these lessons and wear these trinkets if I thought you were wrong?”

“Maybe you do it because we’re friends,” you say. You're well aware of the fact that the prince is the only person in the entire kingdom who advocates for your beliefs. But with the rest of the realm against you, you can't help but think that deep down, he's making fun of you, too.

"You sure do worry a lot for someone who can foresee the future."

You choke out a laugh and run your hands down your face. "I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so sorry. I just– I feel like if I can't prevent every bad thing I predict, then it's my fault when they happen. I wish I was ignorant to omens."

Alex tuts. He pouts at you, dragging his lower lip between his teeth and holding it there for just a beat too long. “Let’s skip lessons today. You should rest.”

“Alex—“

“Ah!” Alex stands up. He begins to unclip his cufflinks from the hem of his sleeve before he passes you a coy glance. “That’s Prince Alexis to you, and if I say you should rest, then you should rest.”

You grumble, but inwardly you’re thankful.

There’s an altar, rectified in the middle of the castle courtyard. Though it was once a place of healing — a place seers would go to cleanse their minds — it is now standing in ruins.

You lay down your offerings anyway. Dried rose petals, and a few copper coins saved up. You wait with the objects until a few crows come to diligently take them away. To where? You don’t know. You’ve never asked.

Alex’s father plans to take down the altar and replace it with a shrine of himself. The knowledge of change reeks the air with a foul scent only you can smell.

It’s as if the entire kingdom is rotting and you’re the only one who knows.

You lift your hood off of your face and continue your walk throughout the court. Those you pass politely ignore you, though some choose to sneer at your mannerisms. The king has them wrapped in his prideful rule, and your heart aches for them.

There is no freedom in serving man. This much, you know.

You find yourself in the tower, waiting for the prince to come in time for his lessons.

“Father says he wants me to study more practical subjects,” Alex relates to you.

He’s lying across the balcony floor, and you are perpendicular, with your head on his stomach. You feel every breath he takes, and something about the closeness comforts you in a way you refuse to analyze.

“I’m not sure what else you could learn,” you say. Your eyes are stuck on a chip in the balcony railing. Stone that hardly cracks, and of course your foundation is crumbling quicker than your resolve. “You have lessons from dawn till dusk.”

“And you’re the only tutor I care for,” he says with a flippant sort of tone. “I don’t know what I’d do if I saw you less. I already wish I had more time with you.”

You’ve spoken to nuns and monks and those who swear off love in servitude to the one they worship. Most admit that it’s a lonely existence, and a torture to make up for their sins. You understand that true love must be as sacred as an old god, and to worship another person would be the greatest act of devotion. For how else do you serve a creator than by worshiping the created?

You don’t think kings are meant to be worshipped. No one with that much power should be revered with such ignorance.

But a prince is different. To worship a prince alone, in secret, for just yourself... perhaps that is the most spiritual devotion of all. Perhaps it is the most torturous.

Hearing Alex’s words makes your heart yearn for a future that can never be. You don’t need a vision to tell you that his father will soon grow tired of you. Of course you will soon be sent out of the kingdom, and Alex will forget about you in time.

You know this without a doubt in your heart, and yet Alex still clings to these moments with you.

You’d do anything to keep him safe.

“Where will I go?” You ask. “Where will I be accepted?”

Alex’s breath hitches; you feel it. And you know what he wants to say — you know what lingers at the tip of his tongue.

With me.

Your family sends back the letter, unopened. You try not to cry about it, but the truth is that you feel more alone than ever. Surely you are the last of your kind, and no one cares in the least about what you have to say.

Except maybe Alex. Lovely, beautiful Alexis. He could no sooner harm a butterfly’s wing than deny you your beliefs.

But Alex is not king. He is merely a prince, and the king does not like you. It’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long.

“You fill my son’s head with nonsense,” the king paces back and forth in front of his empty thrown.

You hide your hands in the sleeves of your robe. “Your Majesty, I only relay what I see. I fear your kingdom is in danger.”

“And you think it my fault? Tell me, what if the stars told me to deify my father? What if I am following my own visions?” The royal cackles. “You have no sensible argument. All you have are silly dreams and lies to propel your own agenda. I will not have you spoiling my son’s brain.”

“Your Majesty—“

“I forbid you to speak on anything of the sort from hence forth. The altar will be torn down, and any peep from you regarding these readings will result in instant banishment.”

The sentence hurts more than it should, considering you aren’t being willed to die. You’re quite lucky in this sentence, considering you can still see Alex. Though, a part of you cracks and splinters to think of suppressing your visions.

The vision of Alex’s coronation still remains. You fear for the prince’s life. You fear the king will have something to do with it.

How do you tell the boy you adore that his father may be his downfall?

How do you get him to believe you?

The warm spring only gets hotter as the seasons change. You sink your head under, and the heat of the water burns your closed eyelids. Your head is killing you; pounding from holding back your emotions: your tears.

The monks don’t even worship the same as you. They lend you their springs and advice, but they aren’t the same. There are no other augurs in The Rapids, so no one else really knows how taxing the job is.

More visions come to you when you’re stressed, so you try your hardest to calm yourself. The water scalds your skin, but it distracts your mind enough to keep the visions away.

It’s all the same. All the visions are the same — Alex gets crowned king and overturns the deifying decree. And only days later, he’s assassinated, and the regent — his father — takes back the throne.

As the old proverb goes: pride cometh before a fall, and the king certainly has enough pride. You just don’t want Alex to get caught in the fall.

“You’re so predictable.” Alex’s voice is warbled.

It takes a minute for the water to release from your ears.

Surfaced, you can see Alex crouched by the bank, careful not to fall in. He’s got that same gentle smile — thin, rouge lips and eyes that seem to shine when they look at you. Alex never judges. He never makes fun of your methods. He’s simply there for you, and your heart longs to be there for him as well.

“This place is sacred,” you blurt. Seeing Alex’s face in the light of the sunset just makes you think of your visions. What would a world without Alex even look like? You aren’t sure you want to find out.

You start to cry, and Alex holds a hand out silently.

He helps you out — holds out the robe for you. His boots are around his neck, and you focus on the thinness of his ankles while you clothe yourself.

“You can’t hold me.” You say plainly.

“I know,” Alex’s voice is watery. “Let’s get you back to the palace, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sniff. “Okay.”

“I’m not dead.” Alex lightly scratches your arm. Up and down. Up and down. “I’m not going to die.”

Your shoulders are braced against his side. You keep your gaze on the white smoke rising off of his incense cone.

This is his room, and his bed, because those aren’t sacred. His bed can be slept in and snuggled in and kissed in and loved in. He has scratchy cotton sheets and incense that is too old to really smell like anything.

He’s a prince with messy documents surrounding his desk and curtains that haven’t been dusted in days. Some days you wonder if the entire castle has forgotten about him. You don’t want to bring it up — don’t want to ask — but it flummoxes you.

You reach for his hand and stop its motions. “I’m sorry I bring you into all of this.”

“I want you to bring me into everything,” Alex slurs. He’s staying awake for you, and you know it. He rests his temple against your head. “I don’t want you to keep anything from me.”

You hum. His body is warm against yours. Too warm, to the extent where you know you’ll wake up in the uncomfortable sort of sweat that comes when a child falls asleep on you, or when you fall asleep without the window open.

Something heavy squeezes your chest. It feels like your ribcage is sentient — hugging and pressing into your lungs until it’s nearly impossible to breathe without an uncomfortable stutter.

Alex falls asleep quick, so you don’t worry about him noticing.

You settle against him and breathe through your nose. The feeling will pass — it always does. You feel this way whenever Alex reveals something so vulnerable to you. You reckon it’s something to do with the tenderness of his voice, or the earnest squeeze of his hand.

There’s a need to protect him. You want to be there for him, more than anything else in the world.

Stripped of your job — the altar torn down — you resort back to your first and foremost activity: Alex’s best friend and (unofficial) advisor.

In this position, you’re confident in your abilities. You know just as well as anyone that you’d rather die than see the prince harmed in any way.

You’re kicked out of the tower, and your telescopes are left to dust. The king locks the door personally, ardent in his attempt to keep you away from any visions that might harm his reign.

You stay in Alex’s room, on a spare bed mat near the fireplace.

Of course, Alex has offered his bed, but you refuse to bother him any more than you have to. And now, with your rituals forbidden, you need a place to privately gather your thoughts.

The flames lick the stone furnace and you lie still. You watch them dance and close your eyes, hoping to rest without any visions or nightmares.

But the nightmares come, and they’re always the same.

When you wake in a fervent sweat, you know that only one thing will keep you from fearing Alex’s death. So, you crawl beneath his scratchy sheets.

You don’t snuggle into him or bother his slumber. All you need to do is know that he’s here. You rest your smallest finger against his bare arm and fall asleep to the sound of an owl hooting outside the window.

On the morning of Alex’s coronation, fog rises from the earth. You see it as a sign: this day will be confusing and blurred.

Alex is just excited to have cooler weather. The blistering heat has been plaguing the kingdom for days, so to have a day of fog and hollow wind sounds like heaven to the prince.

You wear your runes beneath your robe, and the weight of them is less than the weight of knowing you’re dead if you’re caught. But you need them; need this day to come and go without blood and tears.

Alex cannot see you. He’s far too busy with final rehearsals and receiving guests from far and wide.

You stray beyond the castle, into the square, where traders and travelers have set up shop in the hopes of making a profit.

There’s a sign. Fortunes Read Here. It’s tacked over a purple curtain, and you can see amber light shining through a thin slit. Like maybe someone is in there. Like maybe you aren’t alone.

You walk in.

Disappointment smacks against your ribs like a heavy wave against jagged rocks. It’s a scam. A boy no younger than yourself is sitting behind a table, with a green sash tied over his forehead. There’s a mystical rune of some kind that looks like a portal, and it’s tacked to nearly every surface you can see with dripping green paint. The place looks like that of a madman, and you fear you’re about to be mocked.

“Hello,” he says. He doesn’t offer a name. The blues of his eyes flicker from time to time with a shimmery purple, and you think it’s a trick of the light.

“Are you going to laugh at me?” You sit across from him. “Once I leave, are you going to think of me as just another gullible customer?”

“Can you not tell the future?” He says, and he grabs the crystal ball and tucks it under the table. “I can sense it. You want answers, genuine answers, not some promise of success.”

“Who are you?”

“Karl,” he says. “I’m from the village of The Rapids, but you know, magic is looked down upon. I doubt anyone would believe me if I told them what I know.”

You trace the lines of the rune. Your brain fogs, but as you repeat the motion, it clears up, and you suddenly see Karl, clear as day, standing in a crowd and watching Alex make a speech. “You’ve been there? You’ve been to the future?”

“Look closer,” Karl mumbles.

So you focus on the details, and you can see the black banners of mourning, and the redness of Alex’s eyes. “Oh. This is his grandfather’s funeral. This is the year before I became Alex’s tutor.”

“Walk closer.”

Unsure what he means, you continue to trace the rune, and imagine yourself walking through the crowd. Only Karl moves instead, so you pause your tracing and look at Karl.

He’s got his eyes closed, and his eyebrows furrowed. “Why did you come here? What did you want to see?”

You brought me here, you think of saying, but you wonder if this is what Karl can do. If he can travel to the past and show people what he sees. “I- I suppose I want to know why he was deified. Was it a plot?”

You trace the rune again, and Karl walks over to the king, where he stands apart from the podium. Even though his son is giving a heartfelt speech, he’s not listening at all. Instead, he’s talking to one of his trusted advisors.

“I will make a wonderful god.”

“Prince Alexis hates the new creed,” the advisor observes. “Surely he’ll overrule it once he is king.”

“Yes,” the king says. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

You gasp, and even Karl seems winded as you stop tracing the rune.

He places his palms on the table. “So that’s what you wanted to find out. A regicide plot.”

“I have to find Alex,” you mutter. You stand and rip one of your runes off of your neck. Intuition. “Here, take it. You should go.”

“I can’t go into the future,” Karl warns. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“No,” you think of Alex’s words. “None of us can predict fate. I have to go.”

You run out of the tent, and when you look back, it’s gone, left with nothing but a dirty sign labeled Fortunes Read Here.

Perhaps it’s past tense now.

Your purple robe billows behind you as you rush into the castle in search of the prince.

The staff says they haven’t seen him, the lords are already drunk off of mulled wine. His own tailors are running around, fearing they won’t be able to dress him in time.

So he’s gone, and that means you’re too late.

Or rather, maybe Alex is smarter than you give him credit for, and he’s gone to the one place his father won’t go.

You head up to the tower.

He’s there. Of course he’s there. And he’s in only part of his ceremonial clothes, leather pants and a cream-white collared shirt. He’s leaning his palms against the stone railing and staring out against the wind, like he’s waiting for it to speak to him. Tears slip down his cheeks and drop into the air.

“Alex…” You wrap your arms around his soft waist, squeezing tight to try and convey how thankful you are that he knew to get away. “Your father… He’s—”

“He poisoned my breakfast,” Alex whimpers. He grabs blindly for your arms, and at the touch of your skin, he folds in on himself; shifts around to face you, and buries his face into your neck. “My taster… He thought my taster was out. But he wasn’t. Now he’s dead, and the counsel are trying to figure out what to do with my father.”

“Alex, I’m so sorry.”

He cries harder, and you think your hug must feel weak compared to the comfort he so clearly needs right now. “I have to go tell the lords and the staff. We have to postpone the coronation until everyone involved is apprehended.”

You think of what he does when you feel alone. He visits your spring, and he takes off his shoes. He takes you to his bed and scratches your arm. He kisses your head and hums old lullabies from his childhood until you fall asleep.

So you grab his hand, and you pull him down the few stairs where your old bedroom lies. And you bring him toward your bed, but he stops you.

“It’s sacred to you,” he hiccups.

“You’re sacred to me,” you finally decide, and you let him crawl under your sheets.

You untie his boots and pull them off of his feet, along with his socks. Then you take the blanket and pull it up to his chin. You kiss his forehead and crawl in next to him. And you scratch his arm, up and down, and you hum old lullabies from your own childhood until he falls asleep.

While he’s asleep, you trace the moles across his cheeks and close your eyes. Suddenly, it’s like Karl’s tent, only you can see into the future, not the past. And you aren’t Karl, you’re Y/n.

The sun is bright on Alex’s back, skin tanned and warm. You’re swimming with him in the spring, and all that is sacred to you is him. All that matters is him, so he can float in the spring, and he can kiss you on holy ground, and if he can’t be deified in the kingdom, he can be deified in your soul.

And when you stop your motions, you’re back in your bed. Alex is there, sweet Alex, snoring softly and snuggling into your warmth, like you keep him safe. Like your visions aren’t the ones he believed in at all.

He has always believed solely in you.

#quackity fluff #quackity fanfic #quackity scenarios #quackity angst #mcyt fanfiction #quackity x reader #quackity x you #mcyt x reader #pixiecap//

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years ago

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 46

Title: Not Broken, Just Bent

Warnings: mention of suicidal thoughts, profanity, angst

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty

“I appreciate this,” Tyler says, as he and Desi work side by side in the front foyer; assisting the three littles with the zippers on their coats and the laces on their boots.

He’d called the neighbour on a whim; desperate for even the smallest bit of help. He’s never been one to just reach out to others; long drilled into him that only a pathetic and weak man needs a helping hand. But if the first nightmare in Dhaka had taught him anything, it’s that even the biggest and strongest need someone to lean on from time to time; his body and his spirit so broken that he’d required assistance with even the most basic and simplest of everyday living skills. Esme stepping up to the plate and never once complaining about the energy it depleted her of or the time it took out of her own schedule; never making him feel as if he were a burden. Accompanying -and chauffeuring, as both his physical limitations and pain medications made it impossible for him to function to that extent- him to doctors visits and physiotherapy sessions and counselling appointments with addiction specialists. Always wanting her right there with him even when the most difficult of subjects were broached or intense physical exercises caused excruciating pain. Her quiet presence and all of the patience and resilience inhabiting that tiny body both a source of strength and a tremendous comfort. Accompanied by the tender touch of her hands as they massaged his shoulders or rubbed his back or her fingertips cleared wayward strands of hair from his forehead and out of his eyes. Voice soft and soothing even during the moments where frustration and pain had him raging; a palm on the back of his neck and her nose pressed against his temple as she encouraged him to ‘just breathe’ and reminded him of how far he’d already come and how he was proving all of the doctors and the naysayers wrong.

Six years later she’d find herself back in that situation again; his babies growing and thriving inside her as she once more took on the role of his caretaker. Having to lend assistance with even the mundane things most people take for granted; helping him to the bathroom when the pain was too intense to make it even when the aid of crutches or a walker, keeping a well organized and attentively followed medication schedule, feeding him when the tremors in his hands -a side effect of the meds- made it impossible for him to even hold a fork or spoon. Giving him showers or sponge baths or washing his hair in the kitchen sink and trimming both his hair and his beard. And she’d willingly learned more intensive care as well; wound irrigation and cleaning and how to switch out the IV and medication bags when an infection in the lower back had forced him onto powerful antibiotics. She’d been overwhelmed and exhausted but had never shown it; never losing her patience or her temper with him and never reacting when his own -triggered by pain and frustration and vulnerability- kicked off.

Months of her constant presence, reassurance and steadfast care had opened his eyes to who his wife TRULY is; an incredibly strong and resilient woman that has been through hell and back -a number of times- but never lets the situation break her. Always positive and upbeat; gracing him with smiles or ruffles of his hair or kisses to his cheek and words of praise and encouragement. It had given him a new appreciation and respect for her; how easy she made it look while caring for him and keeping a home running and taking care of his children. Even now he remains in awe of her; the amount of determination and love that can exist in someone so small. And if it taught them both anything, it’s that they truly ARE a team; relying on one another in many different ways. What could have destroyed other couples only served to make them stronger. That foundation built upon a unique and powerful bond and formed through a complicated and dangerous situation never crumbling; holding them up with everything around them seemed to want to break them down. Everything became more solid; their marriage, their roles are parents, their friendship. And they’ve discovered they loved each other even more than they ever realized; a love so complete and whole and all consuming.

Now it’s his turn; shove all of his issues and his demons and monsters aside to take care of her. It’s the one thing he’s always been both good at, and consistent with; shelving all of his problems in order to focus on hers. It’s two fold. A chance to show her just how loved and appreciated and adored she actually is; a way of proving just how grateful he is for everything she’s done -for him AND their family- throughout the past twelve and a half years. And it keeps both his body and his mind busy; making her his number priority an effective way to battle back against his demons. But He realizes he can’t do it alone; the old adage of ‘it takes a village’ proving true. Seven kids in the house means a lot of noise and a lot of activity. Not the ideal setting and atmosphere for someone that is both mentally AND physically exhausted.

While Desi had been the obvious choice on who to seek out, it had taken Tyler nearly a half an hour to convince himself to make the call; feeling guilty for yet again turning to their neighbour to lend a hand. It’s primarily an ego issue; feeling like ‘less of a man’ for not only needing help, but outwardly admitting it and lowering his guard enough to ask for it. Esme would blame it on the toxic masculinity that still lingers deep inside; the ghost of his father telling him he should be dealing everything on his own and that not being able to is a sign of both cowardice and weakness. It remains a struggle at times; breaking away from that train of thought and reminding himself that everything his old man had taught him -or attempted to- had been unhealthy and toxic and nothing but complete bullshit. And Desi is like family; always stepping up when either of them have needed him. A loyal confidant and steadfast supporter, he’d easily and effortlessly blended with large broods; enjoying the time spent under their crazy and chaotic roof and giving the kids the kind of uncle they deserve. And while it normally takes Tyler months or even years to trust someone when it comes to his personal life and the safety and the well being of his family, with Desi it has come fairly easily. That laid back and enormously generous personality and the gentle and compassionate way he treats Esme and the kids had triggered Tyler’s instincts. Letting him know that the man was trustworthy and reliable and in no way a threat.

“Anytime,” Desi says, as he finishes with the laces on Takota’s boots and turns to help Brooklyn, allowing her to attempt the tying and only stepping in which she gets frustrated and gives up. “You know I’m here for you guys. Always.”

Tyler slips a purple and pink knitted beanie onto Addie’s head. “Seem to rely on you an awful lot.”

“It’s what friends do, right? Help each other out when they need it. They step up. Lend a hand. No one can go through life alone. No one.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to tell me that thirteen years ago. I was pretty sure that’s how I’d live out the rest of my life. And die.”

“Were you happy though? Living like that? All by your lonesome? Out there in the middle of nowhere?”

“I had company.”

“A dog and a chicken are NOT company,” Desi informs him. “Not by a long shot.”

“Dogs are man’s best friend, aren’t they? And it was a pretty smart chicken.”

“You can’t tell me you were happy like that. Living way out there, alone, no one to talk to. No one is happy living like that.”

“In all fairness, ninety percent of the time I was too out of it to be carrying on conversations.”

It feels like a lifetime ago; that rundown shack in the middle of the outback, surrounded by nothing but the sparse trees and dry earth and looming mountain ranges. It had seemed like the perfect place to let his wounds fester and his addictions take hold; no one trying to dictate what he could and couldn’t do, no attempts at trying to talk him into rehab or counselling, far enough out that not even Koen or Rata made it a habit of stopping by unannounced. Out there he’d been surrounded by nothing but emptiness; a perfect match for the gaping hole in his chest where his heart had once been. A punishment of sorts. Nothing but the mistakes of the past and his overwhelming grief and guilt to keep him warm at night. Out there he could let the demons run rampant; drinking himself into oblivion and abusing Oxy at an alarming rate. His last coherent thought before passing out would always be the same; that the substances he’d put in his body would be enough to ensure he didn’t wake up the next day. But he always did; usually coming to in the middle of the warped and dusty floor or sitting at the kitchen table. Surrounded by empty bottles of booze and tipped over vials of pills and crippled by a brutal hangover; the headache and nausea and the dizziness so intense he’d have to crawl to the bathroom.

When it became apparent that the mix of alcohol and painkillers weren’t enough to do the trick, he began taking the most risky and dangerous jobs possible. By that time, he was fully engrossed in his death wish; too chicken to pull the trigger himself so instead relying on someone else to do it for him. Every time he went out, he’d all but pleaded to a higher power that it would be his last. Resorting to begging and pleading with whatever -or whoever- was watching his ass to take break; take their eyes off him or shirk their duties long enough for him to catch a bullet to the head. Yet it never happened. No matter how many times he’d spun that barrel and taken the risk, he always lived to see another day. Which in turn had only made his desperation even more intense; feeding into that grief and the sorrow that threatened to drown him yet never took him right under. That day on the cliff when he’d plunged into the water below, there’d been nothing stopping him from giving up; the weight of his regret and self loathing enough to keep him below the surface and allow his air to slowly run out. He hadn’t been afraid. He’d been ready to die for a long time.

Yet something had told him to keep going. A little voice hanging onto a thread of hope; louder than those attempting to destroy him. And when he’d pulled himself out of the water, he’d found he suddenly felt lighter; as if some of the burdens and past mistakes had temporarily lifted and been replaced by the first shred of contentment he’d experienced in a hell of a long time. Less than forty minutes later, he’d be watching Esme as she climbed up onto his porch. Studying her as she crouched down and showered his dog with attention. Finding himself both curious and intrigued about the unknown, tattooed and pierced dark haired beauty that had suddenly shown up in his life.

“You gotta admit, that kind of existence IS lonely,” Desi says, as he opens the front door and motions for the three littles to step through. “All alone? Out in a place like THAT? I’ve been there, remember. I’ve seen what it’s like. It’s desolate and it’s isolating and…”

“And it’s what I wanted at the time.’

Desi cocks an eyebrow, then steps out onto the front porch. “What you wanted? Or what you thought you deserved?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Tyler’s mouth, and he stands on the threshold with a palm flat against the door, effectively holding it open. “What seemed right at the time.”

“Were you? Lonely?”

“Never gave it much thought, to be honest. But in all fairness, most of my days were spent drunk and high off my ass, so…”

“You never once wished that you had someone around? Someone to talk to? Spend time with? Get...you know...PERSONAL with.”

“If I wanted that, I could get it. Easily. There was no shortage of that, believe me.”

“You never wanted more than that? I mean, there’s more to life than THAT. What about bonding with someone? Yeah, sex is great, but what about everything else? Companionship. Friendship. Someone to come home to at the end of the day or however long you were gone for some times. Someone that’s just...THERE...you know?”

“I was a fucking mess. Way worse than you could even begin to imagine. Why would I bring someone into that? Why would I do that to someone? Ruin their life like that? They get with me, everything’s great for a while, then they discover just how messed up I am and take off. What would be the point? Bringing someone into that? That’s just wasting their time.”

“Was it about them or you? Not wanting to get involved with someone.”

Arching an eyebrow, Tyler leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Seems like maybe you were using all that as excuses. To protect yourself. That maybe you were scared to get too attached. Just in case they DID decide it was too much and run off.”

A slow grin tugs at his lips. “ You’re starting to sound an awful lot like Esme. You’re getting into the psychoanalyzing business too, huh?”

“I’m just saying that maybe it ran deeper than worrying about other peoples’ feelings. Maybe you were worried about your own too.”

“I was dead inside, Des. I wasn’t feeling a damn thing.”

“Except for shame and guilt and regret. And a whole hell of a lot of self loathing.”

“You really ARE spending too much with my wife.”

“I just think it makes sense. You protecting yourself too. But not willing to admit it. At least not out loud. Wouldn’t it have been worth giving it a shot? Finding someone? Seeing if they could put up with everything?”

“I was an alcoholic mercenary with a drug addiction and a death wish. Who would put up with that?”

“Esme, for one.”

“Esme is an entirely different breed all her own. I highly doubt there’s many out there like her. That would willingly hook up with a fucking train wreck and put up with everything I’ve put her through. That I KEEP putting her through.”

“You know, you’re not as bad as you think you are. Do you have some issues? Yeah. But shit, we all do. We’re all a mess. In one way or another. You might be a little messier than most, but…”

“A little? That’s being awfully nice about it.”

“Look, she sticks around, doesn’t she? She’s still here. Twelve and half years later. You really think if things were THAT bad she wouldn’t have hauled ass a long time ago? Didn’t y’all split up for a while?”

“Six months,” Tyler confirms.

“And yet you got back together. She wanted things to work out. Not like she kicked your ass to the curb and hooked up with some other guy. You guys fixed your shit, made things better. She wouldn’t have taken you back if you were that bad. She wouldn’t have put herself or the kids through that.”

“Still a lot for one person to deal with. We’ve been through a lot shit. Way too much, actually.”

“Shit that would have broken weaker people,” Desi points out. “Both of you...separately... are strong as hell. But the two of you together? That’s a force to be reckoned with. And maybe she is a different breed of woman. Maybe it was the way she was raised that made her the way she is. Or the way she WASN’T raised. But let me tell you, she is a tough little thing. Feisty as all hell.”

“Totally a study in contradiction. You see that little body and that cute face and you think she’s all innocent and sweet and the next thing you know…”

“You’re married to her and seven kids?” Desi grins.

“I was going to say the next thing you know, she’s telling you where to go and how to get there and putting you in your place. Totally not what I expected, that’s for sure. Woman that size to be such a challenge. And so fucking bossy. If you heard half the shit that comes out of her mouth…”

“She keeps you on your toes. Challenges you. She’s definitely no push over. Which leads right back to my point. If you were as bad as you think you are, do you really think a woman like her would stick around? Hell no. She’d tell you off and pack her shit and take off. There’s no if’s, end’s, or butt’s about that. You brought that much shit and pain into her life? Things would have never gotten this far.”

“You know, you make a little TOO much sense.”

“I just tell ‘em like I see ‘em. You’re not the massive prick you think you are. Maybe a little bit of one…”

Tyler smirks.

“She showed up right when she was supposed to. That day at your place. Think of all the things in both your pasts that had to go wrong for you two to cross paths. If even just one of things went right, you probably never would have laid eyes on her. And that would have been a damn shame.”

“Yeah,” he nods slowly, considering his friend’s words. “It would have been.”

“The right woman came along at the right time. If your heart and your head didn’t think so, you wouldn’t be where you are now. You wouldn’t have the life you do. Hell, you probably wouldn’t have a life at all.”

“I’d be dead. If Esme hadn’t come along. I don’t doubt that for a second.”

“Daddy!” Addie clomps up the front walk and climbs the porch stairs; abandoning the task of helping her siblings build a messy fort of wet snow. And she wraps both arms around one of his thighs and leans her slight, tiny body into him. “Do we REALLY have to go out?”

“It’s just for a few hours.” He scoops her up into his arms and settles her on his hip. “ Go get some lunch, go see a movie, stop at the candy store. Doesn’t that sound like fun? A day out with Des? You always love your days out with Des.”

“It does sound like fun and I DO love going out with Desi, but…” she curls both arms around his neck and nestles her face against the side of his throat. “...I want to stay with you and mummy. She was gone this morning. And it scared me. That she wasn’t here to do our thing.”

“Well tomorrow you can do your thing. Sometimes OTHER things come up. Can’t help that.”

“And I only got to spend a little bit of time with her because she’s been sleeping a LONG time!”

“She’s only been sleeping an hour. Didn’t you spend some time with her? Didn't you take a bath with her? In the big tub?”

“Yeah, but…”

“I need you to cooperate, okay? Mummy needs some rest. And she can’t really get that with all you guys in the house. Right now, she needs to sleep and when she wakes up, I need to be able to take care of her. And if I’ve got all you guys to take care of, I can’t really do that, can I?”

“Is she sick?”

“She’s a little under the weather.”

“Like a cough due to cold?”

“Nothing like that. She’s just feeling a little rundown. Nothing some quiet time won’t help. So you think you can do me a solid? Go out with a Desi for a bit?”

Addie sighs heavily. “I guess…”

“We’ll have a great time,” Desi promises. “We always do. Mommy and daddy need some time alone. It happens. They’ve got some stuff to take care of.”

Addie reaches for him; allowing herself to pass from one set of arms to another. “Like making a baby?”

“No one is making any babies,” Tyler informs. “Not in this house anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because our days of making babies are long gone. The shop is closed. All done. That’s it.”

“One more wouldn’t be so bad,” Addie reasons. “Another sister.”

“One more WOULD be bad. And a shock because neither mummy or I can have more babies. Now…” laying a hand on the back of her head, he leans in to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. “....be good. I don’t want any bad reports when Desi gets back.”

“Why you telling me? I’m always good.”

Tyler stares pointedly at his daughter.

“Well, ALMOST always.”

“Remember what I said. No taking off. You stay with Desi. Or with TJ. Got it?”

Addie gives a thumbs up. “Got it!”

“Have fun. And don’t worry about mummy. She’s fine, I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

“You better,” the five year old warns. “‘Cause that’s my mummy and if anything happens to her…”

“Your mummy is in good hands,” Tyler promises. “Daddy knows what he's doing. I’m not some rookie, you know.”

“You be nice to mummy,” Addie orders. “No arguing and no making her cry and no making fun of how tiny she is.”

“You’re kidding me, right? That’s my go to. Making fun of her height.”

“Speaking as a short person, it’s NOT funny. At all.”

“I wonder how funny it will be when I DO pick you and your mum up and put you in my pockets.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Addie’s eyes narrow as she glares at him.

“Don’t give me that look,” He pecks her pouted lips. “You and your mumma both know everything I say, I say because I love you guys. Can I help it that you’re both so tiny and cute?”

“Can we help it that you’re so big and have humongous feet and ears?” Addie counters.

“Ouch,” Desi chuckles. “Savage.”

“She gets that from her mumma. Little, but so full of rage.” He digs his fingers into his daughter’s side, tickling her until the pout turns into a smile and she begins to giggle. “Do I need to remind you that you got my ears? And my feet? You all do.”

“Poor us,” Addie quips, and then squeals and giggles even louder when he brushes his beard against her cheeks.

“I love you,” he says, and presses a kiss to the freckled bridge of his daughter's nose. “Be good, okay? I’m counting on you here.”

“I got this!” She flashes two thumbs up over Desi’s shoulder as he carries her down the stairs. “See you later, alligator!”

“In a while crocodile,” Tyler responds.

“Blow a kiss, goldfish!”

“Bye-bye butterfly.”

“Toodle-loo kangaroo!”

Tyler shoots her a wink and then steps out onto the front porch. Hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie as he watches Desi herd the noisy and excited and noisy bunch out the front gate and then down the slush covered sidewalk. Waiting until they disappear around the corner before heading back into the house.

*****

The shower feels damn good. Hot enough to sting and to cause a new layer of perspiration to form on his skin; gathering at his temples and along his hairline and above his upper lip. The latter he swipes away with the tip of his tongue and then places his palms flat against the tile; chin tucked into his chest and his eyes closed as the water beats down on his weary body. Physically speaking, he feels great; very little pain or tightness across the small of his back, a dull yet manageable ache in his repaired shoulder, the swelling of his right knee not as not as prominent as it usually is. The latter surprises him. He’d pushed himself extremely hard during his run that morning, greatly exceeding anything he’d ever put himself on the treadmill and far beyond the limits the specialists had put on him after his second surgery. And while he knows he shouldn’t ‘test the waters’ and there’s a legitimate risk of ligament tears and dislocations, he’s never been one to play by the rules. Refusing to let anyone confine him to what’s conventionally acceptable; always wanting to prove not only the naysayers wrong, but his own mind and body. An injury he can deal with; another operation and the recovery afterwards a lot easier to bear then the damage to the ego. His physicality has always been of major importance; strength, size, speed, stamina. And he’s had a hell of a time getting back to even seventy percent of where he’d been five years ago. When Nathan had managed to get the jump on him and achieved what no other foe had ever managed: breaking his body and mind.

He refuses to dwell on it. Nothing he can do will ever erase or lessen what happened; his body forever damaged and his entire lifestyle permanently altered. Physical injuries, mental health issues, the constant toeing of the line between addiction and sobriety. And he knows things could be a lot worse; dying that day on the bridge in Dhaka and never getting his second chance. He’d been given an incredible opportunity; an absolution for the mistakes of the past and a whole new life and a bright and content future. But it hasn’t been without its own share of pain and sacrifice and suffering; every blessing coming at an exceptional cost. Ones he’d happily paid and would do so again; willingly putting his own body and sanity on the line if it means keeping his family safe and sound.

A half an hour passes; hot water tank nearly drained when he finally steps out of the shower. Body still damp when he heads into the bedroom; a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and another being used to vigorously dry his hair. Slivers of light manage to trickle through the gap in the room darkening curtains, and he uses it to his advantage; quietly navigating the spacious master suite. She’s been asleep for more than an hour now; on his side of the bed with the heavy comforter pulled up to her chin and her cheek nestled into his pillow. Normally she would have argued with him; pointing out the list of things that -in her always busy mind- needed to be done before her sister’s arrival. But her ‘meltdown’ earlier had left her emotionally exhausted and she hadn’t kicked up even the slightest bit of fuss when he suggested she take time for herself; a long soak in the tub, her favourite ‘comfort’ clothes, a well deserved nap.

It’s been twelve and a half years of sacrifice and compromise on her part; giving up her old life in favour of a new one with him, adjusting to life in a new country only to have it torn apart and be forced back home, reluctantly agreeing to his return to the job and the worry and the stress that came with it. Five pregnancies that resulted in seven amazing and beautiful children; her physical and mental health paying a steep price each time, yet never denying him the desire for a big family. And the times she’s seen him near death. Horrendous injuries inflicted upon him; those long days and nights by his side in various hospitals and eventually the arduous and painful roads to recovery. Yet she’s done it without complaint; throwing herself into caring for him and their family and consistently putting her own well being on the back burner.

Lowering himself cautiously onto the end of the bed, he once more scrubs at his hair and then tosses the towel in the direction of the laundry hamper; sighing when it misses its mark and falls heavily to the floor. While mentally weary, his body feels great; relieved to be relatively pain free and filled with an uncharacteristic optimism. The silver lining within a very dark and immense cloud. A welcome boost of confidence he hasn’t experienced in years; brave enough to consider that maybe...just maybe...the worst is now behind him. And as he studies his reflection in the mirror atop the dresser, for once he’s not finding all the faults. No anger or disgust when his fingers lightly travel over the myriad of scars that inhabit his face, no thoughts of how battered and worn down he appears. Instead he notices that his eyes seem brighter; not as haunted and empty as they’ve been since his return from Cambodia. His face has filled out; the slight weight gain making the lines that accompany aging -and a hard life lived on the edge- not seem as prominent. His chest and arms are bigger; the slightest of flexes stretching the tattoos that decorate the insides of both biceps and shoulders. The positivity is surprising; years spent living in a state of self loathing and speaking self deprecating words long ago taking their toll and reducing him to a man that didn’t give a shit about his personal appearance. As long as he maintained his strength and his quickness and his skills, that had been all that mattered; not giving a second thought to his choice of attire or the thickness of his beard or the unruliness of his hair.

He’s still not what would be considered high maintenance; the opposite of a Desi who spends more time getting ready than the average female and has closets full of insanely expensive high end clothing. Still the most comfortable in bare feet and board shorts; jeans and a simple t-shirt considered ‘dressing up’ in his world. It’s an effortless existence; relaxed and content and low key. And it’s one the entire family -aside from a very ‘girly’ Addie- has adopted. Happy and secure; tucked away at the end of that dead end street and surrounded by nature and the smells and the sounds of the ocean. Their own slice of paradise; hard work, resilience, and a hell of a lot of money turning what had once been a modest residence into their dream home. It will be their ‘happily after after’; the place where they’ll raise their children, spoil their grandkids, and grow old and grey together. And for once, he’s confident that will happen. That they’ll get those moments Esme often speaks wistfully about. When their home is empty and it’s just the two of them; quiet breakfasts on the back deck and dinners down by the water. When there’s more grey in their hair and wrinkles on their faces, yet they still walk along the beach hand in hand or with their arms wrapped around each other; indulging in their bantering and their teasing and stopping to steal kisses in the surf.

And still giving her piggy back rides back to the house.

He feels the mattress shift slightly, and he watches her reflection through the mirror as she adjusts her position in bed. Rolling over onto her back and stretching languorously; a long, content sigh escaping her lips and the heels of her palms pressing into her eyes. When she props herself onto her elbows and looks at him, her hair is disheveled and her eyes are slightly narrowed; a pout of confusion and disorientation capturing her lips.

“Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost one.”

The pout transforms into a frown. “In the afternoon?”

“No. Morning.”

“Smart ass,” she grumbles, and then flops down onto her back. A foot kicks off the heavy comforter in favour of coming in contact with his back; toes slowly brushing along the top edge of the towel. “What are you doing?”

“I was in the shower. Didn’t get a chance to do it when I got home from my run. With everything that happened and you leaving and having to take care of the kids....” his voice trails off. It’s the last thing he wants to revisit. His panic attack in the kitchen, the way his oldest son had sensed the urgency and the stress and stepped up to the plate to care for his little sister, the worry that his wife either wouldn’t return or would walk through the door and tell him that it was over. That he was just too much for her to bear; a heavy and troublesome burden weighing her down.

“Why’s it so quiet?” she asks, and he’s thankful for the change in conversation. “What happened? Did they get a little too feral? Get on your last nerve so you tranquilized all of them?”

“I sold them all. On the black market.”

“I hope you got a good price for them,” she chides, and trails the tip of her big toe along his spine. “I put a lot of work into those kids. Not to mention what my body went through. I think that’s worth a good penny, don’t you? Doesn’t it deserve compensation? My body going to absolute shit?”

“Your body is amazing. It was incredible when we met, and it’s even more incredible now.”

“You really are the most biased husband on earth. My ass is bigger. My hips are wider.”

“You’ve had babies. MY babies.”

“Yeah, I have,” she smiles, and once more props herself up on her elbows. “Only guy in the universe I’d ever give that many spawn too.”

He grins at her through the mirror. “I’m honoured.”

“You should be,” she playfully retorts. “You’re naked under that towel, aren’t you.”

“Well considering I just got out of the shower and I don’t wear board shorts or underwear when I’m in there…”

“Honey, as incredible as your body is and I could lie here all day admiring it, I’m going to need you to put some clothes on. It’s far too tempting to engage in X rated activity when you’re naked. Or next to naked.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. X rated activities. With me.”

“Normally it’s not. But I think I’m PMSing.” That dramatic, adorable pout again. “ I’ve got wicked cramps and I’m feeling bloated as fuck and you know my hesitancy on having sex when all of that is going on. I know it doesn’t faze you and as much as orgasms DO help, it’s just not my jam.”

“Say no more.” Sighing, he gets to his feet; grateful that the normally bone deep pain that resides in his right knee has settled into nothing more than a dull, manageable ache. And he grabs a pair of discarded jeans slung over the back of the chair by the balcony door; releasing the towel from around his waist and tossing it in the direction of the laundry hamper.

“Now that’s just evil,” Esme declares. “You are a bad, bad, BAD man.”

He smirks at her through the mirror. “Why’s that?”

“Don’t play innocent with me. You know exactly what you’re doing. Just dropping the towel like that. That’s so, so, SO mean.”

“Gotta give you something to stare at, yeah?”

“I prefer to call it admiring. And I have done a lot of admiring over the last twelve and half years. You never disappoint, husband.”

“I aim to please.”

“And do you ever hit your mark. Each and every time.”

Grinning, he tugs the jeans up over his hips and ass and tends to the button and zipper; pushing a hand through his damp hair as he approaches the side of the bed. “Move.”

“I like this spot. It’s YOUR spot. It’s got all your grooves in it. It’s comfortable.”

“Yeah, but it’s MY spot. And you know how anal I am about my spot. So haul ass. Please.”

“Grump face,” she mutters, but wriggles her way backward across the bed; rolling onto her hip as he joins her; sliding under the comforter and laying on his side facing her.

“Come here…” Reaching out, he curls an arm around her petite frame and pulls her into him. Hand resting in the middle of her back as his other arm slips under her shoulder; thigh wedging between her legs.. “...I’ll make you feel better, baby. In a non X rated way.”

“You’re so selfless.” She presses her body against his; a hand pushing through his hair and her head tucking under his chin. Eyes closing and a long, content sigh escaping her as she breathes in his familiar scent. Clean and crisp; notes of sandalwood and citrus. “So generous. Where ARE the kids?”

“Desi took them out. Lunch and a movie. Candy bar afterwards.”

“He just offered or....?”

“I called him. Told him you were having a rough day. That I needed some time and some space and some quiet. To take care of my girl.”

A smile plays on her lips as she pulls back to look at him. “Your girl, huh?”

“That’s what you are, aren’t ya? Or would I rather I call you my old lady?”

“I would definitely NOT rather that. I like it; being called your girl. It’s cute. I like the sound of it.”

He presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose. Palm sliding up her back, across her shoulder and then gently cupping the side of her face ; thumb repeatedly brushing against the top of her cheek.

She likes these moments with him. Quiet and content; bodies pressed together in a pure and innocent form of intimacy. The way his gaze never wavers ; as if he's intently studying every inch of her features and committing them to memory. Love and adoration written as plain as day upon his face; the softness of his expression, the gentle touch of a callused palm and fingertips, the tender smile that plays on his lips. A beautiful man with a not so beautiful past. A childhood filled with torment and abuse and anguish and tremendous loss, followed by years of substance abuse and a life lived on the edge; hounded by immense grief and guilt and regret and anxious for death to claim him. It’s no surprise that he has the issues he does; no one can go through a lifetime of trauma and come out of it unscathed. But it’s a shock he isn’t worse than he is. Still filled with so much strength; resilient and brave and never backing down from even the biggest of challenges. Loving and compassionate and sensitive. A striking juxtaposition considering his choice of career. A hardened and highly skilled mercenary that kills as a means to an end, not because he enjoys it.

“So you actually CALLED Desi?” she inquires. “For help? That’s a little...out of character.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice. Your sister won’t be here until later and I wasn’t waiting that long. So I got a hold of him and asked him to do me a favour. If he could take the kids so I could concentrate on you. That’s kind of hard to do when there’s seven plus one under the same roof.”

“That’s HUGE for you. You didn’t just acknowledge and admit you needed help, you actually ACTED on it.”

“What’s so huge about that? I’ve asked for help before.”

“You’ve asked ME for help before. Never someone else. That’s not you, Tyler. You’d rather wear yourself thin or completely burn yourself out than rely on other people.”

“It’s one of my issues,” he admits. “For many reasons. But you know how I always say there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you?”

Esme nods.

“That includes swallowing my pride and asking for help.”

“You doing THAT? THAT’S love right there. And probably some lust, too.”

“There’s a little bit of that in there too,” he teases, and then places a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. Their eyes closing when the tip of his nose comes to rest against her forehead; hand slipping from her cheek and finding the back of her neck, fingers gently and deftly massaging the tense muscles.

For several minutes neither of them speak; basking in the silence and the warmth that radiates from one another's bodies; his slow, even breaths ruffling her hair, hers tickling his bare neck. These moments are rare; the chaos of raising seven children and their respective work schedules and responsibilities. Both are looking forward to her being home more. The opportunity to actually be alone; walks on the beach or time in the water, hikes in the woods or strolls through town. And the road trips. Needing nothing more than gas in the tank and money in their pockets.

*****

“Feeling any better?” Tyler asks, and slips his hand up into her hair; fingertips gently kneading the scalp.

“A little. Have a headache though. Not sure if it’s PMS or my moods or my meltdown earlier. But it’s a bitch. A mean, old bitch.”

He pulls away. Hand moving to the top of her head and fingers pressing on her well known problem areas; along the tops of both brows, the inside corners of her eyes, the bridge of her nose. Attempting to alleviate at least some of the pain and pressure. “Good?” he asks, when she reaches up to push her fingers through his; drawing their joined hands down to her lips and pressing a kiss to the side of his wrist.

She nods, a smile curving her lips. “Good. You and your magic fingers. They certainly know their stuff. In many ways.”

“They have a talent all of their own.”

“They certainly do. MANY talents, actually. Are YOU feeling better?”

“Not bad. My body feels pretty good. Thought maybe I’d be in agony after my run, but…”

“You pushed yourself, didn’t you. HARD. Harder than you’re supposed to.”

“Come on now. Would I actually do something like that? Not listen to the doctor’s orders?”

“You most certainly would. And you definitely have. Be careful, Tyler. Don’t push the limits too much, okay? I realize you know your own body, but you don’t always listen to it. I don’t want you hurting yourself. Screwing something up and needing surgery. AGAIN.”

“I won’t go too hard,” he promises, and pecks her lips. “But right now? I’m taking care of YOU. Not the other way around. You’ve spent a lot of time looking after me. Worrying about me. Probably too much.”

“It’s not like it’s a job or something like that. You’re my husband. I love you. That’s why I do it.”

“And I love you. Which is why I need to step up and take care of you. Don’t be so stubborn, Me. Let me look after you. We’re a team, yeah? We’re supposed to be in this together? Let me pick up some of the slack.”

“It’s a bad habit of mine. Doing everything myself. I mean, in high school I was the one that got saddled with all the work during group projects. My classmates would fuck around and I’d be stuck having to do it all by my lonesome.”

“Well you don’t have to do this by your lonesome. It’s a two way street, right? You and me against the world?”

Nodding, she presses a kiss to his chin, then his lips. “You’re a good husband. I think I’ll keep you.”

“Good. Because I think I’ll stick around. I kinda like it here.”

Smiling, she lays a hand on the side of his face. Her fingers press through his beard; nails lightly scraping along his jaw. “Do you think we could talk?”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing? You already said no naked time, so…”

“I mean a serious talk. Piggybacking off what happened this morning. More specifically, what happened with ME this morning. And WHY it happened.”

“I thought we already talked about it. When you got back. Didn’t realize there was anything more to say. You’re going through some shit. Depression. Probably PTSD. You got a lot of stress. And probably most of that can be blamed on me.”

“I’m not blaming anything on you. I never have. I never will. My brain was screwed up way before you ever came along.”

“I’m sure I made it worse. I’ve put you through a lot of crap. Twelve and a half years of it.”

“We are not doing this. YOU are not doing this. That’s all water under the bridge, Tyler. Things we went through and dealt with. It’s behind us. Can we leave it there? Can YOU? Because it’s not doing you any good; holding onto so much guilt and regret. I don’t want you doing that. That’s the last thing I want, actually.”

“It’s kind of hard NOT to do it. To think back on it all and not see how badly i’ve fucked up.”

“It was all beyond your control. Things went bad. That’s all there is to really say about it. Things went to shit and you reacted badly to them and you made some pretty crappy judgement calls. But we got past all of that. I don’t hold grudges against you. I don’t hate you. Or blame you for anything. It’s time you stop blaming yourself, okay?”

“You know me. I’m willing to try anything once. Except for maybe eating ass. That’s a little too far out of my comfort zone.”

“Well lucky for you, it’s WAY out of mine. But can we? Have a serious talk? Without it turning into a fight? I don’t want to fight with you. We’ve come a long way since those days; everything turning into a big blow out.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, either. But if it’s something THAT serious…”

“I mean, it’s serious but not THAT serious. It’s not life or death or anything. It’s just...I don’t know…” her fingers nervously fidget with the chain around his neck. “...it’s a pretty big deal.”

“Is it about us? Are we having problems I’m not aware of? Is there someone else?”

“No! Oh my god, no. Nothing like that. Other than dealing with our own mental stuff, we are fine. We are MORE than fine. And there isn’t anyone else. There never has been. And there never will be. You’re it for me. For the rest of my life. There’s no one else I want. I could EVER want.”

Smiling, he presses a kiss to her lips.

“It’s to do with me. What’s going on in my head. What HAS been going on in there. And I need you to promise that you won’t freak out. That you won’t hear the worst of it and shut down and lose your temper and…”

He frowns. “Esme…”

“Tyler, I love you. More than you could ever possibly know. And right now, I need you to promise me that you won’t lose it. That you’ll just listen and let everything sink in. Not just hear a bit and react. Can you do that? Promise me?”

He nods. “I won’t lose my shit. Promise. What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you sick? Is there something wrong and you’ve been holding out on me?”

“I’m not sick,” she assures him. “Not physically anyway. It’s all to do with my brain. I’ve struggled for years. Long before I ever met you. And I’ve had some down moments; since we’ve been together. Especially after each of our babies. When postpartum was a real bitch to me. So it’s not like you don’t know what I deal with. In my head.”

“I’ve known for years. You told me pretty much right from the start. A couple days into Dhaka. About having depression. Being diagnosed after your dad died. And I’m pretty sure you’ve got PTSD too. After everything that went on in Bangladesh, ESPECIALLY on that bridge? You can’t say it would be a surprise. If you were diagnosed with it.”

“The furthest thing from a surprise. Now you promise? Not to freak out?”

“I already did. Can we get to it already? Because you stall any longer and my anxiety is going to go off the charts.”

Sighing, she curls a finger around his necklace and gently yanks him into a kiss. Lips lingering on his before finally pulling away. “I lied to you. About a year ago,”

“About…?”

“Do you remember when you were in Brazil? For a couple weeks? The whole drug cartel thing?”

He nods. “What about it?”

“Remember how when you came back, I mentioned a girls weekend. In Cairns. With Riley and Shaena. And how I was worried you’d be pissed because I wanted to go on it? Because you’d been gone for two weeks and me leaving meant we’d only have a couple days together?”

“Yeah, and I was fine with it. You needed a break. I didn’t have a problem with you going. What…?”

“There was never a girls weekend,” Esme admits, and his frown intensifies; deep furrows inhabiting his brow. “We made it up. So you wouldn’t know what was really going on.”

“Babe...what…?”

“I was in the hospital. For three days. And not just any hospital. A psychiatric one.”

“A psychiatric hospital? Why? What…?”

“When you were gone, I had a really bad time. I mean, I always do when you leave. I don’t sleep, I worry constantly, I stress over everything and even little stuff gets on my nerves and drags me down. But this was worse. WAY worse. And even though I knew you were okay and that you were coming home, I still had all that dread, you know? All that worry. Constantly wondering if maybe I’d never see you again. That maybe the last time you walked out the door really WAS the last time.”

“That was an easy job. I wasn’t even out in the field. I was strictly behind the scenes. I never even left the hotel. Not until I had to go get everyone out. I told you I’d stay behind and I did.”

“I know. But I still freaked out. I was still worried. I always worry about you, you know that. And one night it was really bad. I felt like I was losing it. I hadn’t heard from you that day and you didn’t return any of my voicemails or texts and…”

“We had problems with coms. I told you that. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to you. There were legit issues.”

“And I tried telling myself that. That there were issues. But it didn’t help. And I lost it. Badly. I’m pretty sure it was actually a mental breakdown. And I called Riley because I was freaking out and I couldn’t get control of myself. I thought I was going crazy. And I told her that I felt like I was going to hurt myself.”

He blinks at her confession. “What?”

“I don’t think I actually would have done it. I think I was just feeling desperate at that moment. I don’t think…”

“You wanted to kill yourself? You wanted to die?”

“I guess. I don’t know. I was looking for a way out. An escape. And my brain wasn’t exactly in a good place and that’s where it went. Like I said, I don’t think I would have actually done anything. But I called Riley and she came over and stayed with me and the kids. Just in case.”

“What if she hadn’t been around? What if she couldn’t have come over? What if she still lived in Colorado? Would you have done it? Hurt yourself?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t THINK so? Esme…”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking right. I was in a really bad way, Tyler. REALLY bad. And I needed help. So I called her.”

“Why didn’t you call ME?”

“What would you have been able to do? You were in Brazil.”

“I would have come home. Right away. I would have dropped everything and had someone else be in charge. Do you really think I wouldn’t have? Come home? There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were so far away,” she attempts to reason. “And I needed help right away.”

“I would have talked you down. I would have gotten you through it. Why wouldn’t you get a hold of me? I’m your husband.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was just thinking in the moment. And getting ahold of you in Brazil wasn’t the first thing that came to my mind. It wasn’t personal. You should know that. That you’re the one person that’s always been able to help me. But you were thousands of miles away and you were busy and I didn’t want to put something else on you. Burden you.”

“Burden me? You’re my wife. You could never burden me. What the fuck, Esme? Why didn’t you at least tell me I got home? Why lie to me? Why make up this whole fucking story about a girls trip? Why…?”

“I didn’t want to put that on you. Especially when you had to stay with the kids. They needed you to be focused and all about them. And you wouldn’t have been able to do that if I told you. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You didn’t want me to worry? You’re my WIFE.”

“I was trying to protect you. I’m always trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Tyler argues. “I’m not a fucking child, Esme. I’m a grown ass man. I don’t need you coddling me and babying me and protecting me. I would have stepped up and took care of you. That should have been on me. Not your sister. Not Shaena. Not anyone else. Me.”

“I needed you to take care of the kids. You’d been gone for two weeks and they missed you and I didn’t want them to be without BOTH parents. It’s not personal. I didn’t make the decisions I did to hurt you. I made them to help you. To help our family.”

“How much help would it have been if I’d come home and you were dead on the floor? How much help would it have been if one of our kids had found you? Do you know how bad that would have fucked them up? Losing their mother like that? Do you know how bad it would have fucked ME up?”

“I wasn’t thinking of those things. I wasn’t thinking about anything. That’s the problem. All I wanted was an escape. That’s it.”

“An escape from what? Your shitty life with your shitty husband?”

“No!” She clasps his face in her hands. “I love my life. And my husband. You know what depression is like. It doesn’t care where you live or what you have or how many people love you. It’s all in your head. It’s a fucking monster you can’t escape from. You know EXACTLY what it’s like. I never meant…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...I never meant to hurt you. I would NEVER hurt you. I thought I was protecting you. And I know you say you don’t need me to. And maybe you don’t. But I do it because I love you. Because I want to make things easier on you. That’s all. It’s not to hurt you, Tyler.”

“You can’t try and convince me I’m not broken when you treat me like I am.”

She frantically grabs at the chain around his neck with one hand, his shoulder with the other. “That’s not what I was doing. You AREN’T broken. I don’t treat you like you are.”

“You are when you do shit like that. When you lie to me. Especially about something like this.”

“I’ve never lied to you. About anything. I’ve always been honest. About my childhood, about what Mark put me through, about…”

“What about the guy?”

“What guy? What…?”

“The one you went out with. When we were separated. Took you years to tell me about him.”

She frowns. “There was nothing to tell you. He was just some single dad I met at daycare pick up. That’s it. It was nothing important. Just some guy.”

“That you went out with. While we were still married.”

“Have you been just waiting to throw that in my face? Have you been holding onto that all this time? Just looking for the opportunity to hold that over my head? Why would you…?”

“I was faithful to you. Whether we were going to work shit or not. I wasn’t looking for someone else. I didn’t want another woman. And I could have had one. I could have had tons of them. It wasn’t for lack of opportunity, believe me.”

“Then why didn’t you do it? If you had so many chances. Why didn’t you take any of them?”

“Because I wanted my wife. I didn’t want anyone else. You, Just you.”

“And I wanted you! But you were a fucking mess and I was hurt because you weren’t fighting for me. For your family. So yeah, I went out on a date. Because someone showed interest in me and made me feel special and beautiful and wanted. Because I was hurt and I wanted you to hurt just as much as I was. I was so pissed at you. For not getting your shit together and coming home and fighting for us. So I went out on a date. And I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the attention."

“Did you fuck him?”

“No. I told you what happened. I told you he tried and I turned him down. I told him that I couldn’t do it because I was still in love with my husband. That I was still hoping we could work things out. That’s the truth. And that’s how I got that black eye. Because he didn’t handle the rejection so well. That’s the truth. All of it. I never slept with him. I’ve ever been with anyone but you. For the last twelve and a half years. Just you.”

He nods slowly, letting her words sink in.

“Tyler…” her nails dig into the back of his neck. “...don’t do this...don’t shut me out. Please don’t do that. I don’t want you to do that.”

“What do you want me to say? What…?”

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to lie to you. I…” tears flow freely down her face. “...I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”

“Come here,” he gently orders, and pushing a hand through her hair, settles it on her back and pulls her into him. “It’s okay, Me. Everything’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to lie to you. Not about the guy and not about the girls weekend. I was just trying to protect you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know you weren’t.” Pressing a kiss to her temple, he rolls over onto his back; both arms wrapping around her and pulling her with him. “And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have brought that shit up. I haven’t been holding onto it. Or waiting to use it again. I reacted. Badly. And when I do, nothing is off limits. I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to say that shit.”

“It’s okay,” she sniffles, and curls her arms around his neck. “I know how you get. When you hear things you don’t like. But for the record? This is what I meant when I made you promise not to lose it.”

“I am so fucking sorry. I’m an asshole. A huge asshole.”

“No. You’re not. You just have no chill sometimes. I’m used to it. Or fairly used to it, anyway.”

“I never should have said what I did. About the guy you went out with. You had every right to. Go on a date. I wasn’t exactly stepping up. I just lost it. Hearing about you wanting to hurt herself and how you spent time in psychiatric hospital. Kinda kicked me in the nuts, ya know?”

“I was going to tell you,” she says, chin resting on his chest as she looks up at him. “When I got home. But I was feeling so much better and you and the kids were so happy to see me. I didn’t want to ruin that. And then we got on with life and there never seemed to be a good time. So I kept it to myself. It wasn’t to intentionally hurt you., I’d NEVER do that.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“And I don’t mean to treat you like you’re broken. Because you’re not. A little bent, maybe…”

He manages a laugh. “I’ve been put through the ringer a few times. Got a little too many miles on me. Quite the collection of dents and scars going on.”

“They’re beautiful. Every single one of them.” Wriggling further up the bed, she pushes a hand through his hair; tightly gripping the longer locks as she pecks the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry, Tyler. That I lied to you. I had good intentions. I really did.”

“You always do.” He curls an arm around her neck and kisses her. Long and soft and sweet; tasting the salty tears that linger across her top lip. “It’s okay, Me. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.” He tangles his fingers in her hair, gently pushing her head back down onto his chest. “ Has it happened again? Feeling the way you did? Have you wanted to hurt yourself? Or worse?”

“No. I haven’t felt that way since. I’ve been depressed, but not like that.”

“And you’d tell me? If you did feel that way?”

She nods.

Sighing heavily, he places a forearm over his eyes. Lying in silence and feeling her body tremble against his; knuckles repeatedly ghosting along her spine as he attempts to get a grasp on the situation. Her mental health issues have never been a secret; she’s been on medication for years and has occasionally needed it to be tweaked. But to hear that she’d been THAT low? Considering hurting herself? Or even attempting something more permanent? It’s devastating. Feeding right into his worst fear. The thought of losing her to an event totally beyond his control. A wedge of emotion settles in his throat and tears prick his eyes; the realization of how close he’d come to losing. But he fights it off. Needing to stay strong for her. Always willing, ready, and able to put his own problems aside. Her rock and her protector.

“Tyler?” Her voice is impossibly tiny. Apprehensive. Scared.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you. So much. You’ll never know how much.”

Smiling, he slides his palm to the back of her neck and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you too.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth #Chris Hemsworth Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake x OFC #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Tyler and Esme series

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whaleiumsharkspeare · 4 years ago

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I’ve been thinking a lot about Varian’s role in season 3, beyond just that as the resident kid who invents whatever is needed to save the day’s issue or stopping the red rocks or even being a kidnapped victim who unwittingly gives Cassandra the third incantation but also gives Rapunzel the one she needs to defeat her. More so, I’ve been thinking about Varian’s unspoken role as a source of hope for Rapunzel. Because Rapunzel had just been betrayed by a friend again, and even with all her positivity she probably still felt really down on herself for the whole situation and may have, in her darkest late night moments, wondered if there was any chance that she could still reach Cassandra. Who better to help Rapunzel keep her faith in Cassandra than Varian? Even after Varian betrayed her, he still managed to find his way back to the light. He still had good in his heart and he did everything in his power to prove it. Even if it was never said onscreen, I really feel like Varian played a big role in giving Rapunzel hope for Cassandra’s salvation, because he proved that it can be done. When Rapunzel wondered if Cassandra would ever be her friend again, there’s Varian, just tagging along with Rapunzel’s errand of the day with a smile on his face and a friendly attitude.

So, because I was feeling inspired by this concept, I wrote a little fic about Rapunzel and Varian’s friendship, and the hope that he gives her, even if he doesn’t realize it. I hope you enjoy! Maybe one of these days I’ll surprise you with some angst but for now I’ll keep on being the Queen of Fluff (thanks Lissa for that nickname lol)

Hope is a Second Chance

Rapunzel was in her room, working on a massive painting that took up a lot of the ceiling and high walls. It basically told the story of her life, from being reunited with her parents, to the defeat of the Saporians, and everything in between. It was a beautiful and detailed painting, but Rapunzel was having a bit of trouble with a part of it. She held her paintbrush and sighed.

“What’s the matter, Sunshine?” called Eugene from down below. “It looks great to me.”

“Oh, I’m just...I’m struggling with this part of the painting. I don’t know, it doesn’t feel right.”

Eugene looked up and frowned at the part she was working on. It was a portrait of Cassandra, posing with her loyal owl on her arm. In the painting, Cassandra was smiling, but Rapunzel simply frowned as she looked at it.

“It just seems wrong to paint her like this. It’s like, giving me false hope.”

“False hope?” Eugene repeated.

“That she can be saved,” she sighed. “I love Cass, and I want her to be my friend again. But this...this just isn’t who she is anymore. It feels like I’m lying to myself.”

“You’re not giving up, are you?” Eugene asked, surprised. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“No, Eugene. I’m not giving up. Not yet. But, it’s just hard. I want her to be saved, but sometimes it just feels impossible. She’s so lost.”

“Whoa, whoa. I didn’t even think that ‘impossible’ was in your vocabulary,” said Eugene. He sighed and softened his voice. “Look, Rapunzel. I understand. Sometimes I feel like that too. She betrayed you and she hurt the kingdom with the red rocks. She broke your heart. That’s not something I can easily forgive her for. But if there’s anything I’ve learned after being with you all this time, it’s that you never give up on your friends.”

“I’m not giving up yet,” said Rapunzel. She looked at the painting of Cassandra, feeling tears well up in her eyes. “But having this here is too painful for me right now.” Rapunzel quickly dipped her paintbrush into a pot of pale green paint and swiftly started to paint over the image of Cass until she could no longer see her smiling face. When it was done, there was just a blank spot on the wall where her friend used to be. Rapunzel stared at the nothingness and dropped her paintbrush back into the pot, wiping her teary eyes with her sleeve. She took a handful of her hair and jumped down from the rafters, landing on the floor.

“Um, I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” she said, starting to head for the door.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Eugene asked.

“No. No thank you, Eugene. I think I just need to be alone for a bit and clear my head.”

“Okay,” Eugene said softly. Rapunzel quietly left the room while Eugene stared sadly up at the blank part of the wall and sighed. Out in the castle, Rapunzel wandered aimlessly through the halls, her head full of thoughts.

“Am I just kidding myself?” she wondered. “What if Cassandra never comes back? What if she can’t be helped anymore? What if she’s too lost? I’m so terrified of losing her, but maybe it’s just something I have to accept. Maybe she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore. I don’t want to give up on her, but sometimes I feel so lost. I feel like there’s no hope. She could be plotting something terrible for all I know, or maybe I’ll just never see her again. How can I have faith when I don’t even know what she’ll do next and I can’t reach out to her? Where is the hope?”

She continued walking through the castle, feeling more and more lost. She was in such a funk that even the castle servants that passed by took notice of her melancholy attitude and fell silent and crestfallen themselves. The bubbly young princess’ personality was contagious, and so was her sorrow, it seemed. After a while of walking by herself with nothing but the occasional sad squeak of Pascal in her ear and not feeling any better, Rapunzel looked up and saw that she was standing outside the palace kitchens.

“Maybe I could use something sweet to cheer me up,” she thought out loud. She looked at Pascal on her shoulder. “What do you say, buddy? Maybe there’s some of those cupcakes with the pink icing.” Pascal squeaked a reply and Rapunzel pushed open the door of the kitchen and went inside. The air smelled sweet and warm when she went in, and she closed her eyes and tilted her nose up slightly to breathe in the good scents. She could hear a bit of clatter, and opened her eyes to see the source of the noise and saw a familiar face standing over the stove.

“Uh, Varian?”

“Hey, Princess!” came the young, cheerful voice. Varian looked up from the stove where he had something cooking in a pot and pushed his goggles back up into his hair.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She sniffed the air again. “Smells good.”

“I came to the castle today to do some research in the royal library. Thanks for giving me access, by the way,” Varian explained. “I was in there for a while, and I thought ‘nothing goes better with learning how to translate ancient languages on a scroll than hot chocolate’ so I came here to the kitchen to make some.”

Rapunzel managed to crack a tiny half smile in amusement. Varian rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“I know, I know. It’s a bit silly. But I just really love hot chocolate.”

“Hey, no judgement here,” Rapunzel replied, holding up her hands. “I love chocolate. I think it’s probably the best invention in the world. No offense.”

Varian laughed slightly.

“I think I’d be inclined to agree.”

After a moment of slightly awkward silence, Varian spoke up again.

“So, uh, what are you doing here?”

Rapunzel sighed.

“Oh, I was just wandering around. Lost in thought, I guess. I thought I’d come see if there was anything good to eat in here.” She trailed off, looking around the room. Varian frowned. He could tell that something was on Rapunzel’s mind and it was bothering her. He hated seeing Rapunzel look so down. Thinking fast, he looked at the pot of hot chocolate on the stove and quickly poured two mugs of it.

“Hey, uh, you know what? I-I made too much. There’s no way I can drink all this by myself. You want some?” he offered. Rapunzel gave him a small smile and took the warm mug from him, and he gave her a smile in response. He picked up his own mug.

“Well, I’m heading back to the library to do some more research. You can come if you like.”

Rapunzel looked at Pascal as if for approval. He made a “go on” motion with his foot. She looked back up at Varian.

“Okay. Let’s go. You can show me what you’ve been working on.”

Varian beamed at her and led the way. They pushed open the doors of the library and went inside, where Rapunzel saw books and papers scattered all over the place, mostly stacked up on a desk in the corner. Rapunzel stared at all the notes everywhere.

“Wow, you’ve really been busy,” she observed.

“Well, it’s not everyday you get access to the best, most exclusive books in the kingdom. Sure the little library in Old Corona and the one here on the island have good information, but the royal library has the stuff I really need if I want to crack this scroll. I want to make the most of it.”

“You know you can come use it anytime. You don’t have to squeeze all your research into one day.”

“I know that, I’ve just been really busy today,” Varian admitted. “I’ve been learning a lot. I’ve found tons of great information.” His voice got a lot quicker as he started to get more excited. “This library has books on all the languages spoken in the Seven Kingdoms, even ancient ones! It’s really helpful for trying to figure out the text on the scroll. Of course, I’m not there yet. I still have more work to do. But I’ve been in the process of creating a translation key. I think with just a couple more weeks I’ll be able to crack it.”

“That’s great, Varian! You’ve really been working hard! Thank you.”

“I’m just happy to help,” Varian said, sorting through his books.

“So, what else have you been up to?”

“Well,” Varian started, his eyes brightening. “I’ve been reading about the history of Lord Demanitus. That machine in the base of the mountains was just the tip of the iceberg of his genius. He dabbled a lot in alchemy too. Course, a lot of his alchemy practices are outdated by today’s standards, but isn’t that neat? Me, an alchemist setting up shop in the very same chamber he used for his machine to change the direction of the wind. He’s just like me, and learning about him kind of makes me feel like we’re connected, you know?”

Rapunzel watched Varian become increasingly giddy the more he talked about Demanitus. She smiled at the light in his eyes and the excitement in his voice. The rest of the afternoon was spent in the library with Varian. The room was filled with the sounds of their voices talking and laughing as the day wore on. Varian showed Rapunzel all the research he was doing and she helped him by supplying her own knowledge, and even by using her hair to swing up to the top shelves and grabbing the books that Varian couldn’t reach. It was cozy and warm in the library with books and soft lighting and hot chocolate and friendship. Varian’s excitement about learning and being helpful was almost as contagious as her usual optimism, and over time she found herself starting to perk up again. How could she go on focusing on her own troubles when looking at that infectious smile with his big teeth and the light in his pale blue eyes? Varian was totally in his element, talking about the things he was passionate about and answering Rapunzel’s questions readily. She knew she had certainly picked the right person for the job of translating the scroll.

He was more than happy to do it. Happy to be studying his idol, happy to be giving himself a challenge, and happy to just be useful. It meant a lot to be working with the princess after everything that had happened. Sitting there in the library with Rapunzel was a sign of the newfound trust he’d managed to rebuild, and it felt great to be trusted and to be needed. Rapunzel could feel it too, the wonderful warm sensation of trust and friendship that she knew was unwavering between the two. Watching Varian work and feeling the calm and warmth of two friends just spending an afternoon together, Rapunzel suddenly had a realization.

Of course she still had hope for Cassandra. Her friend was far from gone. There was still a chance to save her. Where was the hope? Well, there was the hope. Hope was right in front of her. Right there in the boy who had once been so lost, but was now right there with her. Right there in the blue eyes that once looked icy, filled with anger and sadness, but now were sparkling with life. Right there in the smile that she’d once missed and now come to be so familiar with. Right there in the laughter that was genuine and warm, no longer malicious. Hope existed in every breath of the young boy who stood before her now. And he was all the hope she needed to know that it wasn’t over, and that Cass was going to be okay.

Because Varian had once been lost too, Rapunzel reminded herself. He’d once allowed anger to cloud his heart and set him on a path that had led to darkness. And for a time, she really thought she had lost her friend. But then he found the light again. He didn’t let his heart be completely shrouded in anger. He didn’t let himself be consumed by the despair and rage he’d felt. He came back to the side of goodness. He never truly lost himself. He let his genuinely good heart shine through, and he came back. Rapunzel saw the goodness in him, and she gave him a chance, and she never regretted it. Varian never gave her a reason to. The joy and relief he’d felt when Rapunzel had allowed herself to trust him again was probably the best sensation he’d ever felt in his life, right after how he’d felt when his father came back to him. A second chance. That’s all he needed. And Varian was the proof that second chances were worth it. Varian could be saved, why not Cassandra? As long as Rapunzel had Varian’s smile and his kind heart, she knew she still had hope. She felt happy and warm, and it wasn’t just because of the hot chocolate. Now feeling much happier than before, Rapunzel suddenly got up and threw her arms around Varian in a grateful hug. Surprised by the sudden gesture, Varian stood very still and shocked, tensing up just a little.

“Uh, Rapunzel, what was that for?”

“You’re just...a really good friend, Varian. And I appreciate what all you’ve done for me. Thank you.”

Varian’s shocked and somewhat confused expression morphed into a smile and he hugged Rapunzel back.

“You’re a really good friend too, Rapunzel. Probably the closest one I have, besides Ruddiger of course. And I’m glad to help you.”

After a moment, Rapunzel pulled away and let out a relieved and contented sigh, feeling her troubled emotions from before starting to melt away, replacing the heaviness in her heart with a much lighter feeling.

“Well,” she said after a beat, “I should probably let you get back to work, and I have things to do too. Thanks for the hot chocolate and the nice afternoon.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks for the company,” he replied. She nodded a reply and turned to leave. Varian smiled after her, feeling happy that he’d managed to cheer her up. He wasn’t sure what he’d done other than giving her a sweet drink and talking her ear off all afternoon, but he was glad he’d done his part to get her smiling again. As Rapunzel walked back through the castle, her contagious spirit was positive once again, and the people she passed by couldn’t help but wear smiles of their own. Up in her bedroom, Rapunzel stared up at her work in progress painting with newfound inspiration. She climbed up to the rafters with her hair, grabbing her paintbrush and swinging along to a new spot that could use her artistic touch. The blank spot on the wall where Cass had once been stayed vacant. She wasn’t quite ready to fill it in yet. That would have to wait until she could paint Cassandra being genuinely happy. But she wasn’t giving up hope that she would get to paint that spot someday. For now though, Rapunzel focused on a different section of the wall, and used her paintbrush to bring a different friendly face to life. A face dotted with freckles that highlighted his genuine kind smile, and goggles stuck up in the dark hair that had a funny blue streak in it. It was another portrait on the wall, just like all the other pictures of her friends and family that she’d painted into her life story. But for Rapunzel, it was more than just another smiling face. It was a symbol of hope, and a reminder that no one was ever truly lost without a way back. Varian’s heart had softened again, and he’d managed to find his way back, and she knew that Cassandra could too. One day that blank spot on the wall would be filled in. She wasn’t going to give up. And if she ever started to feel discouraged again, Rapunzel knew all she had to do was look up and see hope smiling down on her.

So that’s it! Hopefully you enjoyed. I really love their friendship. It just makes me so happy. They’ve both come so far and I love the way they were able to grow stronger and rebuild their trust. I think it’s meaningful

#tangled the series #rapunzels tangled adventure #tts varian #varian the alchemist #princess rapunzel #whaley writes #one shot #freckle friends #reconciliation #fluff #you didn’t give up on me #I’m not giving up on you

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didsomeonesaydaddydraco · 4 years ago

Text

Loving the enemy | d.m

Request: nope

Word count: 2255

Warning: betray, bit of angst, heavy heartbreak

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Note: I wanted this to be a one shot, but now I’m thinking about turning this into a mini series. Let me know what you think and if you want a Part 2 (or more). Love you all. xx

All my life, I was told to choose the right path. To do everything in my power to stay loyal to myself. No matter what others say, rather be alone than with the wrong crowd. I was walking around the Castle, always making sure the corridor was empty when I took a turn from one to another. It was in the air. Everyone knew it was just a matter of time for Voldemort and his army to come and destroy everything what was so kind to our heart. Hogwarts. The place which had been my home for seven years. I grew up in here. Found lifelong friends here. I fell in love and got my heart broken for the first time in my life. I learnt to be a great witch here. The thought that I might lose everyone and everything scared me to death.

- Hey – cold, ring covered fingers grabbed my hand from behind, and I let out a small squeak. I turned around with my wand already in my other hand, ready to throw a defensive spell at whoever tried to attack me – Easy, it’s just me.

- Draco – a sigh left my lift as a sign of relief – You shouldn’t go around grabbing people like that when you know very well, Voldemort can come any minute now – I scolded my boyfriend softly, and put my head on his chest. I could hear his heart pounding loudly against his ribs. He kissed the top of my head lovingly.

- Sorry – he whispered and held me closer to his body – I wanted to make sure you were okay, because I didn’t see you at dinner tonight. You still haven’t got your appetite back? Have you eaten today?

- Calm down – I laughed – I wasn’t hungry, but yeah, I had eaten a bit today.

- You need to eat, baby – he pressed his lips into a thin line. Worry was written all over his perfect face. The last few weeks were too stressful with schoolwork, and there was death hanging above as, ready to ruin everything we cherished in our lives, I couldn’t force myself to eat. Every single time I joined my friends for lunch or dinner, all I could do was stare at my food. I wanted to be brave and I wanted to stay strong, but after all, we were still just kids at the edge of adulthood. We were supposed to get in trouble because of our pranks. We were supposed to go on dates at the Three Broomsticks. We were supposed to make the water in our cups turn into Butterbeer or Fire Whiskey and get drunk in the Common Rooms after the Prefects finished their night routines. We were supposed to fall in love and sneak out in the middle of the night to be with our boyfriend or girlfriend. But instead of making memories and having the time of of our lives, we spent our free hours with perfecting our duelling skills, learning defensive spells and training, so when the time comes, we are prepared to fight, or at least stay alive.

- What are you thinking about? – Draco asked. I didn’t notice when he laced his fingers together with mine and led me to his dorm room. When I was snapped out of my thoughts, I saw him sitting on his bed, looking at me with an unknown emotion on his face.

I looked at him for too long. I wanted him to be safe. I wanted to protect him. I was terrified of losing him in the battle. I was terrified because he never said anything about the upcoming tragic event. Every time I brought it up, he suddenly had a very important thing he just couldn’t miss leaving me hanging, or simply changed the subject. Draco was never the man of words or emotions. He preferred actions over everything. In our love life, school work or when he wanted to keep his reputation. But how could someone tell their fears with actions? He had never cried. Not in front of me. He had never trembled, nor had troubles falling asleep. And yet, when I looked at him, I could see his skin being even paler than his usual tone, and the circles under his eyes were way too dark for my liking.

- How can you not be afraid? – I asked him simply. My guts warning me something might be off, and my arms suddenly wrapped themselves around my body as if they wanted to protect my from something – Why can’t we have a conversation about this?

Draco’s eyes darkened and he walked to his window. He didn’t give me an answer, just stared at my reflection on the glass. I stared back. Analysing every single feature of his face, I saw how his beautiful grey eyes lost their sparkle and were filled with sorrow. I saw his eyebrows wrinkled as he thought about something. His lips were pressed into a thin line again. And finally, after all this time, I could see real emotions running through his face after each other. Worry. Pain. Fear. Love. Disappointment. Hopelessness. My heart broke at the sight of him.

- Draco – I said his name softly – What’s going on?

He turned around but didn’t come any closer to me. He was playing with his shirt’s sleeve and chewing on his bottom lip. A habit of him when he was nervous. I knew something was odd about him. Slowly, but everything came together in my mind. Draco refused to wear anything, but long sleeved shirts. He started to wear those to bed as well, even though he hated to have a shirt on for sleeping. Every time we made love, we had to turn off the lights, and he casted a spell which turned the whole room completely dark. I ignored the voice in my head, which was basically screaming at me to do not go any closer, crossing a line.

- Baby – I breathed and with a sudden movement, I pulled up his sleeve, revealing the mark on his forearm. There it was. Black ink standing out on his almost milk white skin. The Dark Mark dancing on his arm, like it was celebrating the fact the Voldemort had striked again. Gaining another soldier for his army, destroying an innocent soul. I felt empty. I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t think straight. I was terrified for him. He was just a boy. I didn’t understand anything. Was it against his own will? Did he want to join the Death Eaters? I felt betrayed. I refused to believe that he would do such a thing on his own will. Could he really throw away everything? Could he really risk our lives?

- Y/N – Draco tried to grab my hand but I stepped away from him – Please, hear me out…

- Why didn’t you tell me? – I asked him – Did you want to keep it as a secret? Did you really think I would never find out?

- No, of course not – he shook his head and took a step closer to me, but my cold stare stopped him from taking any more – I wanted to tell you, but didn’t know how. I was waiting for the right moment, I guess.

- The right moment? – I raised my voice a bit, but I had to remind myself not to cause a scene because our classmates were outside in the Common Room – And what would have been the right moment, Draco? During the battle when I see you fighting on Voldemort’s side? – I hissed the last couple of words – Please, tell me you won’t…

Draco couldn’t look me in the eye. His icy blue eyes were looking everywhere in the room, but me. I waited. I waited for him to tell me he would never go against his School. The place which was his getaway from his poor excuse of a father. It was his safe place. It was OUR safe place.

- Baby girl – his voice broke a little and I knew. I knew that his silence what in fact the answer for my question. To the one that I had asked, and to those which remained buried in me. I stood there, completely devastated. Trying to find the boy who I had fallen in love with. The boy, who would have tried to do everything in his power to protect those who he loved. I was questioning myself. His loyalty. Every single word coming out of his mouth. I felt broken. But no matter how heartbroken I was in that very moment, all I could think about was one thing. How was I supposed to protect him from everything that was waiting for us?

- Y/N – my lips rolled off of his tongue as a silent prayer – Love, please…

- You’re weak – a bitter laugh fell out of my mouth. I was mad. Mad at him for not standing up for himself. Mad at him, for lying to me for weeks. Mad at him, for putting himself in such a dangerous situation. And I was mad at my own self, because even though I wanted to hex him right there and then, I still loved him with every piece of my heart – It all begins and ends in your mind, Draco. What you give power to and has power over you, if you allow it. And you did. You let Voldemort to have that damn power over you.

- I had no choice. Believe me, if I had, I would have choose differently and… - his voice was desperate, but so I was. I was trying to pick up the pieces of my broken heart. All those pieces were still beating for him and hoping that this whole thing was just one terrible dream and I’ll soon wake up in his arms. But deep down I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t even know if that time will come one day, when I can wake up from a nightmare free dream, wrapped in his loving and protecting arms, listening to his light snoring, and the beating of his heart. Feeling him hugging me tighter when he was waking up, or dreaming. Smiling into our morning kiss, and admiring his beautiful face. Getting lost in his dreamy blue eyes, while we’re talking about our future together. Where we want to travel. Where we want to live…Live, how funny. Like we had any chance of that.

- Bullshit – I snorted – You are free to choose, but you are not free from the consequences of your choice.

I knew it must have been hard for him. Everyone in his family was a Death Eater, but so were my ascendants. I chose. And I chose the right path as I was taught when I was little. I was in the impossible situation. My mind and my heart were in a huge war, making it extreme hard to choose, but I had to. One of us in this relationship had to be on the right path, and make the final decision.

- What do you mean? – his eyes were filled with tears, and that was the moment I realised, I had been crying this whole time. Everything was too overwhelming. My head was spinning from the million thoughts chasing each other, and my heart was pounding way too rapidly, I was scared it might explode in any seconds. My whole body was shaking from fear and my fist was numb from the too tight grip – Y/N?

- What I mean is – I took a deep breath, knowing very well that I was about to make a decision that will affect both of us in a bad way – I have made my decision a long time ago. I know who my ascendants are, but I’m not one of them. I’m Y/F/N, and I can choose freely. And I did. I love you, Draco. Salazar is my witness that I really do. I love you so much it literally hurts me, but I have to break my own heart now. This is a serious situation, and you know it too…

- So you choose Potter over me? – venom filled his words and his eyes darkened even more. He was in pain. I broke him. But I had too.

- No, Draco – I shook my head at him – I choose my friends who became family to me over the years. I choose Hogwarts, which was my home away from home. I love you, Draco, but they were here for me way before you made up your mind and decided you wanted me.

- Baby – he choked out from his sobs – I love you. I love you so much, please…Please do not leave me. I need you – he fell on his knees – I’ll go crazy without you… - I was sobbing with him. My whole body was aching and I didn’t know if I could make it out alive – Why?

- Because I’ll always protect my family, Draco – my voice was only a whisper. And with that, I left his room.

I left his room, leaving Draco screaming in his hands, in the middle of his room. I was running down the empty halls of Hogwarts. I should have admire its beauty while I had the chance, but my tears blurred my vision. I tore my heart out from my chest and left it on the bedroom floor. Completely shattered. Shattered by me. I knew I couldn’t have protect him out there. Just like him, I had no choice…

#draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco x you #draco x slytherin!reader #voldemort #wizarding war #harry potter

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star-spangled-steve · 5 years ago

Text

His New Partner

Chapter 37: The Reconnection

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 2147

Warnings: Angst, a ton of emotions, lots of crying.

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I’ve been writing headcanons like crazy! And also, thank you guys so much for 800 followers. I’m very grateful!

“Need a little help there, N/N?” Steve asked his wife as he watched her wobbling on her tippy toes, trying to reach a cardboard box on the top shelf of their closet.

“I’m fine.” She was her short reply, though she clearly wasn’t making any progress as she began jumping up and down to reach it.

Steve shook his head and chuckled. “So stubborn.” He watched her struggle for a couple of seconds more before easily just reaching up and grabbing the box, watching her sigh in response.

“Thanks.” Y/N spoke, taking the large box from his arms. She nearly dropped it due to its heavy weight, but managed to get it on the bed before that happened.

Steve curiously watched her take off the lid. “What’s in there anyways?” He questioned, peering over her shoulder to get a better look.

“I don’t even know.” She answered, beginning to search through it. “I’m just trying to organize things, that’s all.”

Her husband let out a small laugh. “Never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth.”

Y/N lightly giggled, agreeing that she wasn’t exactly known for having great cleaning skills. “Me neither. But everybody needs a distraction sometimes, right?” She faced Steve, seeing him gulp.

“Right.” He said sadly, knowing exactly what she wanted to be distracted from and hating the fact that it had happened. “Do you need help?”

“No. But you can.”

Steve then grabbed another box from the top of their closet and began looking through it. He honestly wasn’t sure what the point was, because she didn’t seem to be throwing out anything, but still pretended to be hard at work. He was just grateful that Y/N was allowing him to spend time with her, so he wasn’t exactly going to complain.

“Steve, look.” She spoke after quite some time, holding in her hand what looked like a photo strip from a photo booth.

The man stepped closer to her, wanting to check it out, and smiled upon seeing the label on the bottom of it. “‘Y/N and Steven’s Engagement Party’.”

“Isn’t it crazy?” She spoke with her own slight grin, handing him the strip. “I don’t even remember taking these.”

The first picture on the strip was obviously meant to be the silly one, with Y/N sporting the duck face and Steve sticking out his tongue. In the second one they were both laughing, giving the camera their biggest, brightest smiles. The third image shows Steve pressing a kiss to his girl’s neck, her blushing in response. Then the fourth and final image shows the couple in what looks like a very heated kiss, Y/N arms around the neck of her man as he dipped her.

“Well,” he chuckled, “you got quite a bit drunk that night, so I’m not surprised. Remember? I explained to you the next morning that I had to carry you back to our floor because you refused to leave the party.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” she nodded with a small laugh, “that’s right. Man, those were the days, weren’t they?”

“Ya,” Steve agreed while handing the photo strip back to her, “those were the days.”

Y/N looked at it more carefully, specifically focusing on the one where they were smiling. “We-We looked so...”

“Happy.” The man finished for her. “Is that what you were going to say?”

“Ya.” She puffed out a breath, reminiscing on all of their good times. “Happy.” She put the strip back where she found it, pushing a couple of the boxes to the side so that there was an empty space on the bed. She sat down in it. “Do you ever think we can be that happy again?”

Steve nervously swallowed, not wanting yet another of their conversations to turn into a fight. “I hope so.”

Y/N nodded, staring down at her lap. “Okay. Okay, good. That’s good. I hope a too. Um...” she sniffled, trying to hold back any tears that came with having this type of talk, “d-do you think that we can be that happy together?”

Steve crouched down on the floor, right in front of where she was sitting. “Do you?”

The girl looked up and suddenly saw how close he was to her, but surprisingly not upset about it. Mad or not, she did enjoy being close to him. “I want us to. I-I don’t want this relationship to be a flop.”

“Me neither.”

“And... uhm...” she sighed, trying to find the right words, “it kind of feels like a flop right now. I really don’t like it, and I really want things to go back to normal. I know that you do too.”

“I do.” Steve replied eagerly. “I so do. That’s all I want. Especially right now, with all of this loss, I want to be there for you. I want to help you, Y/N.”

“I know. I know, and I agree because I want that for us too. Believe me, I do.” She explained to him, seeing his sad eyes begin to become hopeful again. “And it’s not that I don’t believe that you’re sorry. I know that you’re sorry, Steve. You’re too pure of a man not to be sorry. I-It’s just that I can’t let you back in until I’m certain that you love me. That’s the only problem.”

“Wha-What do you mean?” He frowned. “Of course I love you. I tell you all the time.”

“Steve-”

“Y/N, you are my whole entire world.” He continued on, really trying to get his point across. “You’re my sun, my moon, all of the stars in the entire universe; you mean more to me than any of that. I love more than I’ve ever loved anything. Anyone. Ever. In this life or my last one.”

“Steve,” she sniffled, “a person who loves another person doesn’t just leave for two years. That’s not how it works. You can tell me and tell me and tell me all of the beautiful speeches you come up with, but actions speak louder than words.” Y/N explained, now beginning to cry.

The man hesitantly brought his hands up to her face and wiped the away tears, grateful that she actually leant into his touch instead of just smacking him away.

“H-How do I know that I’m not second in your heart?” She questioned.

“Second? To who?” Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to come up with who she could possibly think is more important than her. “Peggy?”

“No.” Y/N shook her head. “I know that your feelings for Peggy are long behind you. I’m talking about Bucky.”

“Bucky?” He almost chuckled. “N/N, I don’t know what you heard, but I only think of Bucky as a friend.”

She shook her head at his misunderstanding of her point. “I know that. That doesn’t matter. Even platonically, he can still mean more to you than I do.”

“Y/N,” Steve sighed, now tearing up as well, “I did that for Bucky because of all that he’s done for me. That guy took care of me for the majority of my childhood, and even into my adult years; getting me out of fights, picking me up when I was down, staying loyal even when I knew that he had better, more popular options for friends. I felt like I owed it to him. He was my best pal.” The man went on, watching her begin to understand where he was coming from. “But N/N, I would not have left you if I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that you were in perfect care, that you were safe. So yes, I made a decision. A poor one. If I could go back, I’d do things differently. I swear, I would. I’m so sorry that you had to be pregnant alone, give birth alone, raise our son alone. I’m so sorry, N/N. If you would have called me, I promise you that I would have been there right away.”

“Well I would’ve, but-”

“No, don’t worry about that.” He brought his hand up to her face, stroking her cheek gently. “I’m not mad about it anymore. I get why you didn’t call, and I don’t blame you one bit. I’m just saying, I’d drop anything for you, N/N. You say one word and I’m right by your side.”

She gave him a small scoff. “I didn’t realize that I had to say a word for to not leave for two years. I thought it was kind of obvious.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say to you anymore.” He told her, basically begging for her forgiveness by this point. “I do love you, okay? More than I care about Bucky. I swear.”

She reached over to her nightstand to grab a couple of tissues, handing one to Steve. They both wiped their face of any tears, never once breaking eye contact.

“I... uhm...” she began to speak, but realized that what she was about to say was silly.

“What?” Steve asked. “Please, Y/N, say it. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She gulped. “C-Can you hug me?”

The man, surprised that she asked let alone even wanted that, nodded his head enthusiastically. “Of course.” He then opened his arms, letting her fall into his warm embrace.

Steve brought them up so that they were standing, keeping his arms tight around her waist. His hands stroked up and down her back, greedily touching any part of her that was allowed. Nothing could describe just how much he missed holding her, or even how much she missed being held by him.

Y/N breathed in his familiar scent before slightly pulling away, still keeping her arms in their place around his neck. “C-Can you kiss me?”

The man was at a loss for words. Kiss him? No way that he heard her correctly. Up until now, Steve was under the impression that she hated him. “Wh-What?”

“Please?” Y/N asked while her bottom lip began to tremble, all of the emotions that she felt starting to become just too much for her. “Can you? I-I just want to know if it’s still there.” She continued, seeing her husband become confused. “The spark. Our spark. I want to know if we still have it.”

Steve, now understanding what she meant, nodded his head. “Okay.” He moved a hand to her cheek, cupping it, before bringing her forward and hesitantly placing his lips on her own.

The two of them held the position before beginning to move in sync, pressing their mouths against each other slowly; savouring the moment. Neither of them had experienced a kiss in over two years, and you could definitely tell that by the desperation in their actions.

Y/N’s fingers began to run through Steve’s quite long hair, both of his own hands now holding her face, pulling her even impossibly closer. It felt so nice, so right to be with each other this way again, that neither of them wanted it to end.

Though, reluctantly, the girl placed a stern hand on his chest, pushing their mouths apart.

The sound of their heavy breathing filled the bedroom as the couple stared into each other’s eyes.

“Well?” Steve questioned. “The spark?”

Y/N gave him a small smile, moving her hand up to his jaw to stroke his beard. “I think it’s still there.”

A big grin broke out on his face at her words. “Me too.” He happily pressed his lips to her’s again, this time for a quick peck. “I missed this so much, sweetheart.” He chuckled, not meaning to let the name just slip from his mouth like that. “‘Sweetheart’. Can I call you that now? Can I-Can I call you everything that I used to call you?”

The girl shrugged. “I guess so, ya.”

“Awesome.” He stated, not being able to stop smiling. “Awesome, babydoll.”

She was now beaming too, not being able to resist that one, before she realized that she had to explain somethings first. “Wait, wait, Steve. You do realize that not everything will be able to go back to normal, right?”

The man’s face slightly fell, disappointed, but still knowing that she was correct. “Ya. Ya, I know.”

“Okay.” Y/N spoke. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure. B-Because, no matter how much I forgive you, and I do forgive you now, I’ll never be able to forget. I’ll never be able to forget what you did.”

Steve gave her a nod. “Alright. I understand that.” And he did. If his only long-term punishment was having to live with the guilt, then he was truly grateful for that; he was just grateful that she forgave him at all. “Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for letting me back into your life. I’m extremely lucky.”

“That’s right.” She stated, being sure of her personal worth for the first time in so long. “You are lucky.”

Next Chapter

Feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @crist1216 @songforhema @the-obsessive-fangirl @stressedandbandobessed7771 @straightforwardly @fruitypebbles34 @krazykatkay456 @the-kang-bang @uhh-katie-griffiths @mcuclintasha @capsiclesdoll @allsortsofinterests @nova3312 @tyes-girl @kind-sober-fullydressed @mschrisaholic @shirukitsune @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @mccloudchloe @notyourtypicalrose @spider-captain @jesseswartzwelder @firecatcher007 @ctrl-alt-jeon @dixonluvv @may-machin @elew223 @fallenoutofrose @secretsihideinside @kaetastic @smolcuddlycub @deepfrz @avengersassemblee @04justanotherfangirl01 @000bananaclip000 @lunaticgurly @frickin-bats @lilred254 @isawritesstories @xlanawriter @saiyanprincessswanie @melaerica @natdrunk @new-romanticz1989 @charmed-asylum @tenaciousperfectionunknown @buchanansebba @little---bird

Steve Rogers Taglist: @ilovesupersoldiers

Tell me if you want to be added to either!❤️

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n

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chelledoggo · 5 years ago

Text

[Fanfic] Forgiveness [101 Dalmatian Street]

genre: angst, oneshot with epilouge

age rating: all ages

content warning: family arguments/tensions

summary:

After a feud tears a rift between the two brothers, Deepak finds it nearly impossible to forgive Dylan. What will it take to start repairing the broken bridge between them?

“C'mon, Deepak. It's been almost a week, now. How long are you gonna keep holding this grudge for?”

“At this rate? Probably the rest of my life. Maybe even a little bit into my next life.”

Dolly stood near Deepak's hanging pod bed in the pups' bedroom. The small yogi pup lay curled up inside, with his face buried in the cushioning.

“Look,” Dolly sighed in frustration. “I get that Dylan said a lot of awful stuff to you back there. But he didn't mean any of it. He was having a bad day and just said some stuff out of anger.”

“That's not an excuse,” Deepak returned in a stern voice. “I have bad days, too. Everyone does. It doesn't make it okay to say those kinds of things. He could've just walked away and meditated for a bit if he was that angry. But, no. He had to run his mouth. Dylan's gone way too far this time. I can't forgive him.”

“So, that's it?” Dolly asked. “Because of one little spat, you're gonna stop loving your brother?”

“Stop...loving?” Deepak turned around and faced Dolly, showing her his red, bloodshot eyes and his tear-soaked face. “Do you think I would still be crying this much if I didn't love Dylan anymore?”

“Well, then, why don't you just forgive him, then?” Dolly responded.

“I can't forgive someone who's not sorry,” Deepak replied as he once again curled into a depressed little ball.

“What are you talking about?” Dolly queried. “Dylan's been trying to make it up to you all week! He's been buying you expensive crystals, your favorite organic dog treats, all those Guru Miaow mantra CDs...And you keep turning them down!”

“Ughh,” Deepak groaned in exasperation. “You just don't get it, do you? You're just like Dylan.”

“Excuse me?” Dolly responded, a bit offended, but still trying to be sympathetic to Deepak.

“All those gifts and favors?” Deepak began. “Those aren't apologies. He hasn't once asked me about how what he said made me feel. He hasn't asked me if I'm doing okay or tried to hear me out. He thinks he can just bribe me into just forgetting all of it and make everything all better again. He doesn't care about me. He's just trying to save face.”

“Of course Dylan cares about you,” Dolly insisted. “I mean, remember when he went through Constantin's crazy cat tests to bring you home? Do you think he'd go through all that if he didn't care?”

“Come on, now,” Deepak scoffed. “You and I both know he only did that because everything was falling apart here without me. Plus, you basically had to talk him into it.”

“How could you even say something like that?” Dolly cried. “He did all that for you!”

“Be honest, Dolly. Do you think he would've bothered trying to bring me back if everything had been fine here without me?” Deepak stared Dolly down with an interrogating expression.

“Of course he would, silly!” Dolly's eyes welled up with tears.

“Yeah, maybe once Mum and Dad realized I was gone and guilted him into bringing me home, right?”

Dolly began to open her mouth to speak, but then held her tongue. Deepak was...kind of right.

“Your silence says it all, sister.” Deepak glared and turned away once again. “Everything Dylan supposedly 'does for us?' He only does it to save his own hide or feed his own ego. He doesn't care about me. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. He's just a selfish pup at the end of the day.”

Dolly didn't even try to speak. She just stared down bleakly at the floor.

“He doesn't feel the least bit bad about hurting me,” Deepak continued. “He's only trying to 'make it up to me' because he's upset that one of his 'loyal followers' stopped respecting him. It's all about him as usual, and he's done nothing as of yet to convince me otherwise. He's just pressuring me into accepting an apology that I'm not ready to accept. I don't have any reason to think he's sincere.”

“He's...he's really trying...” Dolly whimpered. “He feels really bad...”

“Oh, Dylan feels bad, huh?” Deepak responded sarcastically. “Let me ask you something. Has Dylan ever once voiced any concern for my feelings? Has he said 'I hope Deepak is okay,” or “I shouldn't have said those awful things to Deepak?' Or has he just been wallowing in his own self-pity and trying to haphazardly patch things up without any real thought so life can go back to normal?”

Dolly's head dipped down as far as it could go, as her teardrops pattered against the floor.

“...Is there really nothing I can do to change your mind?” Dolly asked in a weak, wavery voice.

Deepak was silent.

“...Deepak, come on, I--”

“Dolly,” Deepak interrupted. “I'm not mad at you right now, but I highly suggest you leave.”

Dolly sighed in defeat, and walked slowly out of the room.

In the hallway by the door to the bedroom, Dylan was waiting. He lay close to the ground, hiding his face in his paws.

Dolly looked down sympathetically at him.

“...I take it you heard everything?” She asked nervously.

Dylan's only reply was a sad, muffled “Mhm...”

“I'm sorry bro,” Dolly said as she gently stroked her brother's back with her paw. “I tried. I really did.”

Dylan said nothing.

“...Hey, come on, now,” Dolly said with an attempt at a reassuring smile. “I'm...sure Deepak'll get over it eventually.”

Dylan looked up at Dolly with wide, reddend, tear-filed eyes.

He didn't seem to have too much faith in Dolly's sentiment.

Neither did Dolly, honestly.

“...I'll be outside if you need me, okay?” Dolly said quietly as she began to head out. “Just...try to get your mind off it for now.”

Get my mind off it? Dylan thought. How can I? I just listened to one of my siblings go off for five minutes about what a horrible dog I am, and...And he's right.

Dylan sat and contemplated all the things he'd done to try to get back in Deepak's good graces. All the gifts, all the favors. But was he really doing it to help Deepak feel better? Or was it to make himself feel like he'd properly absolved himself of his own wrongdoings? Was he just so focused on looking like a good older brother in Deepak's eyes again that he didn't actually stop to think about what Deepak really wanted from him?

Dylan took in a deep breath and stood up. He poked his head into the bedroom, and saw Deepak still curled up inside his pod, facing away from the world.

“D-Deepak?” Dylan addressed his brother anxiously.

The only response was a loud, disgruntled groan from Deepak, muffled by the bedding inside the pod.

Dylan continued on anyway.

“I...I heard you talking to Dolly, and...you were right. There was absolutely no excuse for me to say the things I said to you. You're my brother. No, not just my brother. You're a canine being who deserves all the respect in the world. No one deserves to be talked to in that way, much less a kind, peaceful, loving pup like you. And...I can't force you to forgive me. Trying to butter you up for forgiveness isn't really showing that I care. I need to stop wallowing in my own guilt and respect you and your feelings.”

Silence.

“Deepak,” Dylan continued with a sigh. “I totally understand if you want to stay mad at me. I understand if you don't want to forgive me. You shouldn't have to just because we're family or anything. Honestly, I don't deserve it. I wasn't treating you the way family should treat each other. I won't press you for forgiveness anymore. You should only forgive me when and if you feel ready to, and not a moment before. I'll leave you alone now.”

Having said all he could really say, Dylan walked away slowly down the hall.

“...Dylan.”

The elder pup turned around to see Deepak standing near the doorway behind him.

The zen pup wore a stoic expression and avoided eye contact with his older brother.

“Dylan, I...” Deepak began. “I...appreciate that you said that. I...honestly wasn't expecting you to come around like that.”

Dylan gazed at Deepak with teary eyes, hardly believing what he just heard.

Deepak was silent for a moment, then spoke up again.

“Look, I'm...I'm really glad to hear you say that. I won't lie, I'm still hurt, and I'm probably going to hurt for a while. If you really mean everything you just said, and you want to rebuild our brotherly bond...just...give me some time, okay? No more apologies. No more favors. No more gifts. Just give me some space and let me heal for a while, and then let things between us patch up naturally. Is that understood?”

Dylan nodded, as he sniffed and smiled sincerely. “Of course, Deepak.”

“Good.” Deepak responded as he walked away.

“...L...Love you, bro,” Dylan called out weakly.

“...Mhm,” Deepak mumbled, not looking back.

Dylan sighed. He was anxious about how things would work out from here on, but he would try to remain hopeful. Deepak seemed like he was willing to mend things in due time, so all Dylan could do was have faith in his little brother and leave things be.

– – – –

Epilogue

That night, Dylan lay fast asleep on his side of the living room couch.

He was suddenly awoken by the sensation of something small and warm sliding up to him.

He looked over to see that Deepak had snuggled up to him and was curled up to go back to sleep.

“Deepak?” Dylan whispered. “What's wr-”

“I was just a little lonely,” Deepak responded flatly. “That's all.”

“Lonely?” Dylan asked. “In a room with 96 sibl--”

“Just...go back to sleep, okay?” Deepak interrupted grouchily, not looking up at his brother.

“O-okay,” Dylan replied. “G'night, Deepak.”

“Good night,” Deepak muttered. “...Love you.”

Dylan smiled. “L-love you t--”

“Sleep,” Deepak cut him off once again.

“Right,” Dylan acquiesced.

The elder pup smiled as he lay his head back down. It might be a long road to fully repairing the brotherly bond between him and Deepak, but this seemed to be a good start.

As sleep reclaimed its hold on the exhausted Dylan and his eyes slowly slid shut, he thought that, just for a moment, he saw Deepak smiling as well.

#101 dalmatian street #dylan dalmatian #deepak dalmatian #dolly dalmatian #fanfiction #it has a happyish ending don't worry

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1000-directions · 5 years ago

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Hello! You both give good advice and write Winterhawk, so I was wondering if you'd mind giving a few tips since I might want to start writing Winterhawk? Like, is one of them a raging disaster and the other mostly has themselves together? How do you see them? Which of them would break a (dumb) law and who would keep their dumb friend from getting arrested? I haven't read fics either so if you know of any that really nail their characters, I would also love that. Thank you!!

oh boy do i have a lot to say on this subject!!!

the thing about winterhawk is that they are both dumb beautiful oblivious idiots, but they are also both highly skilled and competent strategists and agents. there are certainly differences between the two characters, but i think what makes them so compelling is their similarities. they’ve both been brainwashed and forced to do horrible things that they would never do otherwise. clint was kept under loki’s thrall for three or so days and was indirectly responsible for hundreds of deaths (and directly responsible for maybe a few dozen). bucky was kept captive by hydra for seventy years and was involved in dozens of extremely sophisticated assassinations, including jfk. they’re both going to spend the rest of their lives trying to make up for things they did that they could not control that they still take responsibility for. they both have ptsd and nightmares. they are both still good, soft, loving people in spite of the terrible things that have been done to them. although they’re probably both down for a revenge spree to make sure the bad guys never get to hurt anyone else.

(they’re also both snipers. clint uses a bow and arrow, and bucky uses a gun. who is the better shot? it’s impossible to guess, they should definitely have a shooting contest to find out!! they should definitely bet on the results!! the loser should definitely have to take the winner out on a date!!)

they are also both canonically disabled. bucky lost his left arm and uses a prosthetic. clint is hard of hearing and wears cool purple behind-the-ear hearing aids (i realize that using the term ‘disabled’ for hearing loss can be fraught, but to my knowledge clint does not identify with the capital-D Deaf community, and his hearing loss is acquired after trauma and not congenital).

they also have their unique traits. clint has depression, and his life outside of work is always kind of falling apart because of it. clint is our good disaster boy who is trying his best, and his heart is always in the right place, and he is loyal and good and protective, but his life is a dumpster fire.

clint is 6′3 (tall!!!) and bucky is 5′9 (small!!!!!) and this is Very Important. clint has broad shoulders and really muscular arms and back because of archery, and bucky has real good thicc thighs Because We Say So.

clint has a one-eyed dog named lucky who he rescued after some assholes pushed him into oncoming traffic. bucky (sometimes) has a white cat named alpine, although he only started appearing in comics like eight months ago so not everyone is on board with this headcanon yet.

uhhh also bucky is like over a hundred years old, and clint is like, i don’t know? in his thirties? i usually imagine him being in his thirties. but definitely not a hundred.

(in his defense, bucky looks extremely good for his age, but being cryogenically frozen by terrorists for long stretches of time will do that to you.)

“wait,” you may be saying. “i watched some avengers movies, and this does not sound like clint at all?” and, you know, fair point. the problem is that the first avengers movie came out in april of 2012. then, in august of 2012 matt fraction started writing the hawkeye comic book series which is extremely beloved and really deft and emotional and powerful and really changed how a lot of people saw the character, but it was really Too Late for any of that to carry over into the MCU. when people ship winterhawk, they sometimes mean movie bucky and sometimes mean comics bucky, but they almost always mean comics clint.

i realize this is confusing.

this is why you have to Read The Fic and Learn From The Masters.

here at Winterhawk 101, our reading list is pretty simple, and it is: the complete and unabridged works of @captn-sara-holmes, which can be found here. it is impossible to overstate how much sara is directly or indirectly responsible for pretty much every single one of us being here. like, we all go here, but she built here. i would posit that every single winterhawk writer joined fandom either because they read one of sara’s stories and fell in love, or because a friend of theirs read one of sara’s stories and they got yanked along for the ride (see below: winterhawk is a pyramid scheme).

i always suggest starting with clint barton’s super secret snipers’ club, which i think is a very accessible way into this fandom and basically a masterclass in what makes this pairing fascinating and compelling and tender and perfect. where you go after that is up to you. there’s time travel, kidapping, kidfic, this one amazing fic based on the martian that’s so good i don’t even know how to describe it, and plenty more.

study sara’s work. learn her ways. realistically, i think like 80% of us are just writing our stories based on her stories anyway.

but also! there are so many other people in this fandom creating amazing fics and fanarts, and it’s a fun and thriving and creative community full of people who are excited about making stuff and excited about people joining the community. there are always fandom events going on.

here is a link to the mcu bad decision buddies discord (18+ only, please), which is not officially a winterhawk server but…it is a winterhawk server. it moves fast sometimes, and some people can be a little feral, but it’s a great place to do writing sprints and to promo your work and to meet new people and ask questions.

the winterhawk reverse big bang wrapped up pretty recently, and there are lots of new stories and artworks available for you to put into your eyes!

@winterhawkbingo is going strong!

@mandatoryfunday is an amazing account that posts a new prompt every monday, and people spend the week creating arts and fics based on the prompt, to be posted on friday (or like…on saturday or sunday if you are me lol)

the winterhawk tumblr tag is always popping, and lots of fans track it or check it regularly. if you post a story there or if you ask a question about fandom, someone will find it, even if you have no winterhawk followers.

in conclusion

winterhawk is a pyramid scheme

it is, though. because the people who love this pairing love it so, so much, and it’s something you want to share with your friends. you get sucked into it, even if maybe you didn’t want to and you’d been actively resisting it because you were so sure you weren’t going to like it (am i talking about me? who can say?). and once you’re into it and your mind is blown, you start thinking of people you know who would also enjoy the unique kind of hurt/comfort, angst, recovery, catharsis, etc. that this pairing excels at providing. you’re gonna bring a friend along. you’re probably gonna bring a few friends along. and you’re all going to create cool stuff, and the fandom will keep growing and changing, and so there is new fan content being created constantly. it’s a very rewarding fandom experience. it really, really is.

anyway, both those idiots would break the law if it was dumb enough. clint’s the one who ends up in jail, but by the time bucky shows up to bail him out, clint’s already slipped his cuffs and charmed the secretary and escaped out the window in the bathroom. but he probably took three steps of freedom before tripping over his shoelaces and faceplanting on the pavement, and that’s where bucky finds him, passed out in the alley.

#winterhawk #i feel like i did not do this ask justice AT ALL but don't worry i'm sure some other winterhawk fans are gonna chime in #we all love to talk :)#long post #Anonymous

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ghostmartyr · 6 years ago

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What does the manga add to Roy and Riza's relationship that the anime doesn't have? Asking out of curiosity since I'm an anime only and they're still one of my favourite pairs of all time!

Oh, ha, I didn’t specifically point to the manga because I have anything in particular against Brotherhood (…or 2003 for that matter) it’s just not my canon, and I’m used to specifying which version of FMA I mean when I talk about the series. I do have a list of petty grievances against Brotherhood, but there is nothing fundamentally altered between Roy and Riza.

I mean. Yes. A number of my petty grievances are related to them. And feel slightly less petty as thought is spent on them.

But I would need to go back and watch the anime scenes again to point out the specifics of why.

[many hours later]

(As a note about this post, since I guess I did make the choice of tagging it, this is heavily critical about some specific moments in the Brotherhood anime, but before I get started I want to emphasize that my problems, with the exception of an example that spans a volume, don’t cover even two minutes of video. These things exist, and they bug me, and I clearly have things to say about them, but Brotherhood is 64 episodes long. My impassioned hatred of a few choice features isn’t indicative of my overall feelings on the anime.

Essentially, this is me having fun whining. Not trying to set off landmines. I hope it proves enjoyable.)

So there is this scene change in the first five minutes of episode 19 that has my eternal hatred and I have no plans to ever forgive. That has been true since it aired, and it is still true here today, because I am insufferably stubborn.

(I actually did a session about it before. I’m probably going to repeat most of it, but have a link if it interests you.)

That is not the dialogue the manga goes with.

In the manga, Riza’s interaction with Roy is focused on “what the fuck were you thinking why are you here.” Both versions have the scene with her berating Mustang for endangering the mission to save her.

In the anime, the above screencaps are what follow. After giving him a hard time for showing up at all, she thanks him for saving her life. Sweet, I guess, except Roy fires back with a mission-focused response.

If I were doing an anime-only meta thing, something could be said about the hypocrisy of Roy playing hero only to lecture other people about concentrating on the mission, and it would just be another cute thing. I guess. If I were in a charitable mood maybe.

But this is the first anime adaptation I sat through properly, angsting about every twist and turn and change.

My grudges. They last.

In the manga, Mustang brings up the slightly more personal aspects of what has happened. The reason he runs after Hawkeye is that he just lost Hughes, he won’t lose her, and he loses his head entirely. They have the yelling session over it, and he basically yells back the equivalent of, “yeah yeah fine -sulk sulk sulk-”

They leave Fuery and Hayate behind, and we have the presented moment.

Going to assist Riza is not the Proper choice for the military operation they’re running. It was a dangerous thing for Roy to have done, and she rightfully calls him on it. But he does it because he cares, and the fact that he cares is why all these people follow him. He’s a hopeless, idealistic dreamer at heart. His squad is loyal to him because he’s loyal to them.

Roy Mustang is a damn softy.

In the anime, Riza’s the one to call attention back to the whole life-saving motive. In the manga, it’s Roy.

In the anime, when it comes up, Roy dismisses it.

In the manga, when it comes up, Riza apologizes for worrying him.

It’s a small moment, but small moments are allowed to matter, and when small moments are changed, it leaves a bigger impact than if they were just left alone.

In the anime, this exchange, plus Hawkeye’s smile after, suggests that the sentimentality of the relationship comes primarily from her. Riza’s the one having her heart warmed when they have a job to do.

…That’s a slightly meaner way to put it than the scene perhaps deserves, but there is no unfair bitterness like unfair bitterness towards Brotherhood for me. Whining about this adaptation is a thing I do, despite honestly loving the majority.

Anyway, in the manga, the scene is both of them putting legwork into their dynamic. Hawkeye yells at Mustang for showing up out of sentiment, but when he expresses that sentiment in the aftermath, she expresses understanding of his perspective. He did a stupid thing, but they’re a team, and both at ease with their interplay.

In the anime, stop talking Hawkeye, don’t you know we have a job.

The manga is a conversation, the anime is putting a wall up to prevent that conversation. Especially annoying is that the character putting the wall up is the one who initiates the conversation in the manga. The anime drags Mustang back from his emotional openness and pushes Hawkeye to be more so, then provides a dismissal of her acting that way.

Besides being an inverse plus a step back for their relationship, it. also just feels kind of sexist. Instead of the man talking about feelings, the woman is. When the man talks about his feelings, it’s greeted with understanding and respect, when the woman talks about her feelings, it’s greeted with the instruction to put it somewhere else.

The fact that they changed it bothers me, because the way it is in the manga is great. It’s one of many small moments Roy and Riza have where they are shown to respect and care for each other.

The anime version doesn’t add anything, and lessens the mutuality of that bond.

I snarl in its general direction.

The other change that springs to mind is of a similar cloth.

Mustang and Hawkeye encounter the Elrics before they’re aware of Hughes’ death, and Mustang makes up a story about Hughes retiring in the country with his family so that they won’t go looking for him.

Hawkeye greets this with the face of judgment. “Why are you treating him like a child all of a sudden?” He’s never shied from giving Ed adult responsibilities before. This is a blatant lie. Roy says they don’t need any further obstacles to their journey.

A few moments pass. In silence, in the manga. In the anime, Riza points out that they’re going to find out someday. Then…

“…Who am I trying to kid?”

(Funimation, the heck is with some of your translation choices. Did you just keep the simulcast version for the official DVD subs?)

So there are a few things. The most obvious difference is the dialogue changes. Hawkeye is more insistent about how the Elrics will find out at some point, then after Mustang makes his character commentary, she calls it cruel instead of sighing and moving on to the next topic.

The other most obvious change is that Mustang smiles after calling himself soft in the anime.

These all sort of play together.

In the manga, Hawkeye is just as judgmental as she is in the anime, but she allows Mustang the space to dwell on his choices for himself. She asks him one question about how he’s treating Edward, then they walk in silence, her disapproval creating a tangible aura.

It isn’t simply Hawkeye judging him. He’s judging himself. In the anime it comes off as a, “tee-hee, what a silly softhearted boi I am.” So in the anime, she vocally objects to what he’s doing.

In the manga, Mustang takes in his inability to break the news to the Elrics as the emotional flaw that it is, and Hawkeye lets him off the hook. He doesn’t need a lecture; he knows his shortcomings. It’s not great, but he’s the kind of person who doesn’t want to tell Ed and Al that Hughes is dead because Hughes tried to help them.

Again, Mustang’s softness is part of what endears him to his crew. It is not always a good trait. Sometimes, as in this case, it’s actively causing problems. But it is who he is.

Riza knows this, and she can let this failure pass with a sigh because Roy knows it too. The anime version has a smile when it’s nothing to smile over. The manga version is more, “hahaha… fuck.”

Roy and Riza know each other and themselves extraordinarily well. They might have the boundaries of superior and subordinate, but they are comfortable enough in their understanding of each other that they are allowed to be themselves. It’s the conversation thing. There is an undercurrent of figurative dialogue to their relationship that never stops.

When they do call each other out in the manga, it does not keep the conversation from flowing. It continues it. Both of the above changes take it to a stuttering halt in their scenes.

Then we have episode 30.

After which, I do not have memories specific enough to shout about things or know if there are things to shout about, but episode 30.

-screams forever and ever and ever-

-intersperses screams with tears of anguish-

From what I know of being an FMA fan, it is difficult to be an FMA fan without being passingly familiar with the debates of which version is better. Usually it’s Brotherhood vs. 2003. My personal, obviously right opinion, is that this is the wrong way to do it, and it should be manga vs. 2003, because really it’s an argument over which plot is better, and Brotherhood’s plot is the property of the manga.

I also think it’s impossible to really debate. The two series have different feels and themes. They are both extremely well done, meaning that which one you prefer comes down to personal preference.

I’m pretty sure people who bother to have those discussions could say a lot more on the topic, but that’s my general, broad stroke, very glossed-over perspective on it all.

I mention this because I think anyone who loves FMA should read volume fifteen of the manga. If you’re not a manga person, you don’t want to read 27 volumes of manga, yeah, understandable. You have your version of the story, enjoy it, you shouldn’t feel the need to read the original if you don’t want to. The idea that you have to pour every bit of content into your brain to be a good fan is pretty unhealthy.

But I recommend volume 15 regardless, because the anime does not come close to presenting its content. It is four chapters devoted to the Ishvalan War. Outside the framing device (Ed going to return Hawkeye’s gun and asking about what went down), the entire volume basically stands on its own.

It is a harrowing, intimate depiction of the genocide campaign. That is the focus of the entire volume.

Scar’s backstory is moved to an earlier section in the anime, and Mustang burning Hawkeye’s back is moved to the Envy fight, so this might be an unfair barb to throw, but I still want to say it. The anime covers this volume in one episode.

-goes back to screaming-

(Honestly though, some of the best fun I ever had in fandom came from being on a forum full of manga fans and all of us yelling our despair over Brotherhood’s choices. You would never believe that this anime was considered the gold standard of anything.)

But we’re here for Roy and Riza!

There’s only one thing that sincerely bothers me to pain of the irritation of the above. Most of my sulking is just why did they do this to my favorite volume. Mustang and Hawkeye’s stuff is mostly intact. Except when it isn’t.

Chronologically, the first complaint is that when Riza’s father collapses (dies), Mustang is alone with him. In the manga, the scene ends with a shot of Riza, watching, terrified, from the doorway.

Also known as the scene where Roy calls Riza by her first name.

-still screaming-

The cemetery scene is truncated. The anime jumps right into Roy and Riza discussing Roy becoming a soldier. The manga starts the scene out with the focus on funeral things. Roy asks if Riza has other family, and what she plans to do now.

After that, he offers her his number, and they get to talking about the military and Roy’s dream.

They also cut this.

In the anime, Roy discusses his military life through the lens of Master Hawkeye’s opinion on it, asking if Riza is going to disapprove as well. Roy starts talking because he assumes that’s how she feels about it, and preemptively defends his perspective.

In the original, when Roy hands Riza his information, she asks, “For the rest of your life…?” It’s followed by the above panel.

Roy’s monologue about his aspirations and his dream for what he can do as a member of the military happens because Riza asks. Not directly, but her addition to the conversation prompts him to talk about his views, and he mentions that those views are why he studied alchemy. In other words, why he’s standing in front of a grave, awkwardly trying to talk to his dead master’s daughter.

Following that, the original pays more attention to the lead-up of Riza entrusting Roy with her father’s research. In the anime, she jumps straight from the ideals topic to asking if she can trust him with it.

In the manga, there’s that beat of contemplation after Roy brings up alchemy, and how his master didn’t teach him everything.

Riza tells him that his dream sounds wonderful.

Another beat.

That’s when she tells him that her father did leave his alchemical secrets behind. Words about this are exchanged for a small number of panels.

In the anime, she asks Roy if she can entrust her father’s work (dream, values) to him. Directly after the dream dialogue.

In the manga, when Roy tries to bring their discussion back to Riza’s father, and what he did with his research, Riza redirects him. It isn’t about her father. It’s about her, and by consequence, Roy, and how Roy’s dream inspires her.

“That dream… Can I entrust you with my back so that I can help make it come true?”

The anime severely underplays the significance of Riza offering her father’s research to Roy. They address it a little once Envy is being dealt with, but in the manga, all of the discussion of Riza watching Roy’s back is drawn from how Riza’s back is what’s given Roy the power to rise as far as he has.

It goes from maintextual subtext to subtextual subtext.

Also, the cuts to their conversation just plain means that there’s less of Roy and Riza interacting. The two of them are very, very young, standing in front of a grave and talking about ideals. The longer manga version allows the quality of their youthful awkwardness to truly shine.

The scene is dropped in the middle of the volume, whereas in the anime, it opens the Ishvalan flashback. There’s much to be examined about how that affects the emotional impact, but… geez that gets to be a lot of threads. Trying to go through all of the ways they crammed a whole volume into one episode is just going to make me dizzy.

Even if the theoretical focus of this post weren’t shipping, I’m not sure my brain would be up for that. There’s just so much going on, and the time allotted means it’s a Frankenstein job.

The one major difference for Roy and Riza, which I can’t believe they went with, and can’t believe my sad feelings every time I watch the episode and confirm yeah, they really went that way with it.

Why why why why why why why why must you hurt me this way.

SO!

THE ANIME VERSION!

OF ROY AND RIZA MEETING IN ISHVAL!

Riza walks up and says hi after noticing them because Hughes is babbling about his future wife.

Yay.

The manga version does not. does not do that.

It.

That’s not how it goes.

At all.

In the manga, Roy and Hughes run into each other on their break and start chilling together. Hughes gets a letter, does his excited babbling, Roy tells him to stop being a stereotypical red shirt, when suddenly

Oh noes.

Roy and Hughes react as fast as they can, which might or might not end up fast enough, when a bullet goes through the Ishvalan’s brain.

There’s quiet for a moment, then Roy gets behind cover because oh no gunshot, and Hughes tells him to chill, it’s all good.

“We have the ‘hawk’s eye’ on our side. […] A real ace sharpshooter… who’s causing quite a stir in my circle of friends. She’s still in the academy but because she’s so skilled… they brought her to the front.”

Guess who.

Hughes and Roy, being the good people they are, go back to camp to thank the sniper for saving them. Hughes is his cheery self. Roy is not noticeably perturbed.

Then the sniper drops her hood and stands up.

You could say I prefer the manga version. It has Riza being a badass, and adds to the shock they both have of seeing each other here.

Riza gets her own little horrified section of panels all about it.

She was just helping out two soldiers. She didn’t realize until after she fired that one of them was Roy, and that he’s in this hell too.

The other thing that I enjoy about this particular sequence of panels is that in the manga, they come up a bit earlier. Throughout the manga, Ishval flashback panels are everywhere. As this scene is initially presented (Hawkeye looking at Mustang through her scope), many chapters earlier, it looks like maybe they’re on opposite sides.

Or maybe it’s just me who thinks that’s a thing.

In any case, it adds some serious drama to their reunion. In the anime, the drama is entirely that they are both here in this awful war. In the manga, a Mysterious Sniper saves Roy’s life and turns out to be his master’s daughter.

It’s just cooler, okay?

Their conversation when Riza becomes Roy’s aide is also truncated. Riza says her specialty is guns, because death doesn’t linger when you use them. Roy tells her, with what I feel is sympathy, that’s just a deception to make the work easier. She agrees, but because she’s decided that work is necessary, there we go.

…

I thought that would be my last thing, but now that I have volume fifteen open, I can’t help but go to the scene during the Envy stuff. I won’t touch the main scenes of that, though I’m sure there are changes, because this is already too long and I’ve officially gone through the things that personally affect my view of the anime, which… was, at some point, maybe, the point of the ask. ^^;

Basically, I will never stop if I go through everything, but in case it isn’t obvious, I really love the fifteenth volume, so to Envy we go.

Huh. They really didn’t alter much. The core’s all there. Because of the placement, Mustang gets docked a few lines, and he is rewarded one of Riza’s (about making the tattoo as illegible as possible) in return, but it’s basically the same, with the addition of Riza thanking him.

I have no particular feelings on that. The ending of the scene is different because it’s not intended to go with the rest of the Ishvalan War, and… I guess I could manufacture some dislike over Riza expressing gratitude instead of the pure stubbornness the manga has. It distracts a little from why she’s asking those secrets to be burned off. They’re in a hell of their own creation. The soft thanks blurs the cutting edge.

Which isn’t to say I can’t have other problems with it.

As a manga reader who enjoyed Brotherhood as it was coming out, as well as someone who is writing this mostly from memory and going over only specific scenes, I have no way to ascertain how clear it is to anime fans what happens with Riza’s back and when. In the manga, it is excruciatingly clear that her father puts his research on her back, that is how Roy comes to have Flame Alchemy, and that is what Riza asks him to burn off.

Since that’s all in volume fifteen, the next twelve volumes are read with the understanding that before Riza is instructed to watch Roy’s back in case he falls, she offers him her back, and brings the ruin of Flame Alchemy to Ishval.

That history defines them. Their own choices plant them in that war, but Roy uses the alchemy she gives him out of hope for a better world to commit genocide. It’s a horrific weight on both of them, and his decision to have Riza, of all people, watch his back after the war?

Dude, it is such an amazing ship detail. Riza entrusts her back to Roy. He, in turn, entrusts his to her.

I get why it’s moved. Sort of. Given that volume fifteen is given one episode, I get why it’s moved. It’s most heavily relevant to Roy’s rampage against Envy.

However, I don’t think the power of knowing the depths of their connection earlier on can be understated. Roy and Riza’s devotion and synergy comes from watching their shared idealism burn the people they wanted to protect to a crisp, and their commitment to never letting that happen again. They create a hell through their good intentions. Having done that, they do not abandon their good intentions. They refine them and continue forward.

That is what binds them together. They rise from the ashes of their flames.

I do not, for the most part, think Brotherhood does them a major disservice. My gripes are pretty much all listed above, and my praises are endless.

But if you really love Roy and Riza, I’d seriously recommend reading the manga at some point, because there’s stuff the anime doesn’t bother with. AKA, yes, there is even more royai to be uncovered, don’t you want to seeeeee? :D :D

This kind of obviously grew past what you were initially asking, but I hope it serves a satisfactory answer regardless! Thanks for the opportunity to spam my love for these two!

…Through spamming my hate of stuff, but we’re ignoring that.

#Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA #royai #tl;dr #asks

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jinterlude · 6 years ago

Text

And So I Did...

↳ header is made by yours truly. I do not own the rights to the image used.

» Pairing: Choi Junhong x Reader (female OC)

» Genre(s): High School!AU, Friends turned Lovers Trope, Fluff, Friendship, Romance, & Slight-Angst

» Warning(s): low self-esteem // tiny hints of bullying // swearing

» Words: 4.6K

» Summary: You and Junhong. Two peas in a pod. You always have his back. He’ll always have yours. However, there has to be something going on between the two of you. After all, you know that saying, “a guy and a girl can’t be just friends”. Well, sorry to burst the bubble, but that’s all you two are. Just friends. Right?

To think it all starts with a simple phrase,

“Is this seat taken?”

Then, it evolves into a long-term friendship that no one expects. Two complete opposites have form a bond that nothing and no one dares break. You, this little meek girl, with your signature black thick rimmed glasses and hair in a high ponytail always believes that you are destined to be single for the rest of your life. Comparing to the other girls in your school, you consider yourself to be a negative fifteen while the others are in the hundreds. But a certain someone begs to differ. While you don’t know it, the person firmly believes that you’re incredibly breathtaking. Better than every single girl at school. You have this natural beauty that radiates warmth and happiness. You aren’t fake when it comes to your words and actions. You don’t sugar coat your feelings when you finally choose to lay it all out there. You’re just…you…and that’s why your best friend has fallen so hard in love with you to the point that he has to do something.

But what?

You have been friends since middle school that trying to get out of the good old “friend-zone” is quite impossible. Basically a challenge. However, that doesn’t stop him from trying. He always loves a challenge and never backs down from one.

It’s the start of a new school week, you, as always, have your nose buried in between the pages of your favorite book—Pride and Prejudice. God, you’re just enamored with the way Jane Austen words the obvious romantic tensions between two people. Both who come from different social backgrounds and allow said differences to cloud their judgments, preventing them from confessing their undying love for one another. What a great love story.

Turning the page, your eyes scan word after word, inching closer to your favorite scene throughout the entire book. The scene where Mr. Darcy first proposes to Miss Elizabeth. You’re absolutely captivated how – while he essentially insults her at first – he ends up telling how much he loves her and that he wants to marry her.

You wonder what you’d do if you’re in that type of situation. Ha. Like that’ll ever happen.

You flip the page as you internally squeal in delight. Alas…you’ve reached your favorite scene.

"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." You mumble, shaking your head slightly as if you’re offended for Elizabeth. You continue on your little adventure, taking in each word and rooting for the fact that she doesn’t accepts his “beautiful” proposal.

“Seriously…who would accept his proposal?” You think out loud to yourself, chuckling softly.

“Well…apparently she does at the end of the novel,” You hear an all too familiar voice point out followed by the sound of a chair scraping against the tiled floors. The annoying squeak echoes throughout the library. You aren’t facing the check out desk, but you know that the library is giving you and your best friend, Choi Junhong, a dirty look.

A smile forms on your face as you lower your book and place your bookmark in between the pages. You close the book and place it aside.

You raise your brow, leaning against your chair, as you ask him what’s he doing in the library.

Junhong mimics your actions but has an interesting smirk painting his lips.

“What? I need a reason to hang out with my best friend in the library?” He asks, turning his head away.

“When it’s you? Yes. I would like a reason as to why you want to hang out with little old me when there’s a thousand of other girls who’d love your company.”

“I wish you stopped doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Comparing yourself to irrelevant pebbles whenever I’m with you.”

You stifle your laughter, “pebbles?” You question with an amused gleam in your eyes.

“Beside the point! I don’t want to hang out with anyone but you.” He says, close to spilling his hidden adoration for you.

“Okay. Okay. No need to be all extra.” You tell him, holding your hands up in surrender.

Junhong smiles in victory, uttering a quick, “good”, before the two of you begin talking about everything and anything that comes to mind. You guys do have time to kill before the first bell rings. You guys talk about the latest episode of your shared favorite show. Then, it eventually becomes a heated battle over which “ship” is better. You’re on team “Ray x Nora” while Junhong’s stupidly on team “Constantine x Nora” which by the way makes no sense. You even go into great lengths to letting your idiotic best friend know that.

Rolling his eyes, Junhong too pulls out evidence on why Nora is meant to be with John Constantine. You, on the other hand, refutes his claims, citing that she only saves the Legend’s resident magic dictionary because she wants to prove that she’s good.

“Oh, come on shorty! It’s painfully obvious that Nora is slowly falling in love with Constantine!” shouts Junhong, though, careful to make sure that the librarian doesn’t shush you guys.

You gawk, “Excuse me, you stupid string bean, but she only does it for Ray. If it wasn’t for him, then she wouldn’t have gone aboard the Legend’s ship!”

Junhong purses his lips; his eyes narrow on you. Secretly, he’s only arguing with you because not only amuses him, but he personally loves seeing passionately arguing about something. That’s one trait he absolutely loves. Well, he loves second. The first is how loyal and caring you are. He honestly can’t remember a time when you aren’t there for him whenever he desperately needs you the most. Then, a goofy smile graces his face as your argument fades into the background while he recalls the moment, he has fallen in love with you…

It’s been raining nonstop. The winds have been harsh. Branches falling from the trees every five seconds. It doesn’t help that the rain has become heavy after each boom that followed each lightning strike.

He doesn’t even know where this stupid storm came from. One moment it’s quite beautiful. The sun is shining. The skies are this breathtaking blue with gigantic white puffs of clouds that moved with the Earth’s rotation. Well…it moves because of the winds, but that’s beside the point. It goes from a nice spring day to a dramatic scene from a romantic-drama movie.

Trying his hard to get out of the harsh conditions, Junhong uses his skateboard as cover. Though, it’s essentially pointless as he’s drenched from head to toe. He looks as if he just jumped into the community pool with his clothes and shoes on. That’s how soaked he currently is.

“Fuck…” He curses, unaware of what time it is or even where he is. He can pull out his phone but with the current weather conditions, he’ll unintentionally destroy it and will have to revert back to his prehistoric, flip phone.

Releasing this long, defeated sigh, Junhong squints his eyes, surveying his surroundings. He says a silent prayer, hoping that someone – anyone – would come to his aid.

His head hangs low as he feels close to giving up. Maybe he’s doomed to catch pneumonia and then more than likely die from it.

“Jell-O?” His ears perk up. He recognizes your voice. Your oh-so-melodious voice. Wait a minute. What are you doing out in this stormy weather? He quickly whips around; drops of water flinging away from his locks of hair.

His eyes widen. He practically beams at the sight of you.

“Short cake!” He shouts, running up to you, taking coverage under your umbrella.

You smile warmly, holding your sturdy umbrella higher, so it shields the two of you.

“Why the Hell are you out in this awful weather?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Y/N? Why are you out here?”

“Well…I noticed a familiar face standing outside my house, and he looked quite frankly miserable and lost.”

Junhong makes a face, mumbling something along the lines of, “I wasn’t lost…”

You shoot him a knowing look, finding it a bit amusing that your best friend of two years refuses to admit when he’s in trouble. That boy. What will you do with him?

“I don’t know…love me forever and perhaps get me some dry clothes to wear?” Your body flinches. Your eyes trail up, meeting his puppy like stare. A faint blush penetrates your cheeks. Not because you have a crush on him but because of how close he is. Yeah. It’s only because he’s extremely close to you. And that’s it. Nothing more.

So why’s your heart racing like you just ran a marathon?

Choosing to ignore your rather confusing feelings, you guide Junhong into your house, shouting to your parents that he’s hanging out until the storm subsides enough for him to go home. You lead him upstairs, down a hallway, and stopping in front of your older brother’s room. You instruct Junhong to wait outside while you raid your brother’s closet. The joys of him attending a college out-of-state. You have free reign over his room.

Minutes later, you come out with a pair of black sweats and a plain white t-shirt. You hand the clothes over to your drenched guy friend and direct him to the bathroom. You then tell him to meet you in your bedroom once he’s done.

His intrigued gaze almost burns a hole on the back of your head as his eyes can’t help but trail downward. His stare becomes fixated with the way your hips move. How incredibly sexy you look sauntering away from him.

The hormonal teenage boy releases a long, heavy sigh as he musters every single unsexy thought. He thinks about how his friend Daehyun looks funny when he stuffs his face. How his cheeks puff out whenever he takes a big bite out of his hamburger. Like how your cheeks bubble whenever you fight against your better judgment when it comes to facing the queen bee of your school. Wait…that’s not what he’s supposed to be thinking about.

“Come on, Junhong…think about something else…” He chants repeatedly. His fingers graze over the soft fabric of both the sweatpants and shirt. “There we go. Focus on the softness of her brother’s clothes. How smooth it feels against your callused fingers. Like how Y/N’s delicate skin felt against your hands when she accidentally toppled over you while trying to ride your skateboard…Oh, God damn it!” Once again, he fails. Maybe his friends are right. He has a crush on you and while he can’t have said feelings in fear that your friendship will sever once you find out, he can’t help it. He’s the victim of the wonderful cliché of “falling in love with your best friend”.

Fuck. His. Life.

Sighing in defeat, he finally heads to the bathroom to get out of his uncomfortable, clingy, drenched clothes. Though, his mind drifts off to you, wondering what you’re doing. Yet he has an inkling. You’re more than likely reading one of your favorite books. Just like he always observes you doing whenever he and friends trek around your neck of the woods.

Wow. He sounds like an obsessed stalker.

Turning the page, you remain focus on what the great William Shakespeare has to say about the famous star-crossed lovers. You, yourself, are a mere stranger to love, that doesn’t stop you from reading about it. Though, your mom has wondered why you never pursue it. She can never know that you’re left traumatized after your first and last attempt. A few weeks ago, Junhong motivated you enough to confess your feelings to the school’s resident heartthrob, Kim Seokjin. Up until the verbal confession, you have left sweet, innocent love notes in his locker, dropping hints as to his secret admirer is. And on the day the two of you met face-to-face, the disappointment in his eyes will forever be a nightmare in your dreams. His cruel words piercing both your heart and soul.

“Wow. I was honestly expecting someone hotter but obviously has a great mind because of the words written on those notes. But then I get this ugly, plain looking girl. Man…why do I always attract the wall-flower types?”

Since that day, you have grown to fear love for yourself. You want others to experience it or witness it, but you will never experience it yourself. You refuse to have your heartbroken again.

Feeling a tear cascade down your cheek, you quickly wipe it away, not wanting Junhong to see you cry pathetically over someone. Someone who’s not worthy of them.

You take a moment to compose yourself before turning the page. Good thing that you did because you hear his voice cite the famous line,

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Y/N is the sun.”

You quickly cover your mouth – even though the book’s already covering your face – stifling the laughter that erupts from your chest. Though, it only fuels him to continue—especially after seeing your hand covering your mouth.

“See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek!”

Not wanting to hear him butcher “Romeo & Juliet” any longer, you set your book down and reach for your pillow. Without a warning, you chuck at him, hoping that it hits him. Sadly, it doesn’t. Curse his fast reflexes.

Junhong grabs the pillow and makes his way towards you, smiling brightly.

“O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art

As glorious to this night, being o'er my head

As is a winged messenger of heaven…” He says softly. His gaze piercing your own.

You can swear that your heart has skipped a beat. What is this boy doing to you? Lately, he’s been shamelessly flirting with you. It’s quite odd to be honest.

“Okay, Romeo. What do you want?”

“You, my precious Juliet. Tis you that is making me spout nonsense. My heart is sure to burst if I do not find a cure soon.”

You perk a brow up, “And what cure is that I pray you tell me?”

“Accompany me to the ball of the homecoming.”

“Junhong, you know I can’t do that.”

“Oh…we’re dropping our Shakespeare speak? Dang it, I was hoping to keep it going.” Junhong crawls his lengthy self over to you, leaning against the wall. “But why won’t you go to the dance? Is it because of He who-shall-not-be-named?” questions he as he looks at you with utter concern.

Your eyes become wet forcing you to muster a quick smile and crack a joke about not wanting to dance with Lord Voldemort. Unfortunately, Junhong doesn’t buy it. He knows you better than you know yourself. He’s been your companion long enough to know all your signals. When you’re furious with something or someone. When you’re about to laugh uncontrollably. Even when you’re about to cry. You either force a smile and jokingly say something or your lips quiver and your eyes look away. Then, it’s followed by unnecessary tears. He deems them unnecessary because no one shall have the luxury of knowing that you’re shedding tears over them. No. He wants you to hold your head up high and show those assholes that you’re an unbothered queen.

And…it just breaks his heart knowing that he can’t prevent them swift enough.

Without a second thought, he wraps a warm around you and forces you close. Your tear streaked cheek presses against his broad chest. Then, you begin to sob. Just that one friendly gesture is enough for you to break down, releasing the pent-up sadness and frustrations.

“Y/N…” He begins softly. The corners of his mouth turn up. “You, my amazing friend, need to stop releasing tears for men who are too dumb to realize what they are missing.” He says sincerely, gently using his thumb to wipe away your tears. He observes your silence and then places his index finger underneath your damp chin. He tilts your head towards him. Your gazes bore right into each other’s.

“I’m serious. I’m not telling you this because I’m your friend. I’m spouting these things because I want you to realize your worth as a person. Specifically, how beautiful you are.” He confesses with a full-blown blush invading his cheeks.

Your stubbornness refuses to give in. A short scoff escapes your lips in response. He’s obviously blind. You’re not beautiful nor will you ever be. You’ve seen the type of girls he flirts with. You’re nothing in comparison. And you have no shame in letting him know that.

Then, out of nowhere, he grabs your face. His hands cupping your cheeks. His forehead practically presses against yours.

“Will you please stop that?! You have no idea how much it hurts me to hear you put yourself down like that? And for what? Because of some stupid ass prick who doesn’t even know what he’s missing? You are worth of being loved. You are worth every compliment that myself or the rest of our friends have given you. Please…Why can’t you believe that I’m being sincere…genuine…when I tell how gorgeous you are?”

You remain quiet. Your bottom lip almost disappearing as you nibble on it. You don’t want to cry again after you’ve stopped a few seconds ago.

How did you get so lucky to have someone so dedicated to you?

How did you get the honor of having Junhong as your best friend?

You will never know…

After what seems like forever, you remove his hands from your face. Then, a warm yet soft smile graces your face.

“Thanks, Jell-O. I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime short cake. I’ll forever be at your service to slap you with the harsh truth.”

Ever since he had the opportunity of seeing your vulnerable side, his admiration has grown tenfold. Since that day, he has made a vow to make sure you never shed a tear again. You’re always caring and loyal to him, so why not return the favor?

Question is…how? How can he return the favor? Then, as if it’s a sign from Gods of Romance, he hears a few giggly girls gossip about who’s taking them to the upcoming dance.

“Bingo.” He thinks before tuning in back to the conversation, “Say, shorty. You don’t have a date to the dance, right?” He inquires.

You look at him oddly, “No. Why?”

“Good. You and I are going.”

“Wouldn’t it be weird to take your friend to a love theme dance?”

He bitterly thinks, “Crush but alright…” before responding that he has seen others take their friends all the time. It’s not that big of a deal.

You hum in response, thinking about his explanation. He has a point. Shit. Even your brother has taken his lady friend to a dance, so it’s not weird. Though, granted, he wound up dating her afterwards, but that’s beside the point.

“Okay fine. I’ll be your date to the dance, but if something goes horribly wrong, I am punching you in the dick and never speaking to you again.”

“Fair enough.”

In a blink of an eye, it’s the night of the dance. You, wearing a pastel blue short dress, currently wait for Junhong by the main entrance. You clutch your satin white wrap around your bare shoulders, hoping that it’ll keep you chattering your teeth any longer.

You glance in both directions, smiling politely at your fellow classmates. Airy chuckles leave your lips here and there as you find it quite hilarious that you’re being acknowledged by the people who have ridiculed you. You even got a few compliments by former crushes. Your lips curve upwards as you amusingly think about what will happen if you break out your signature glasses. Will these assholes act the same?

“Looking for someone?” You hear someone ask. And speaking of asshole. You focus your attention towards his direction. Yup. There he stands. Kim Seokjin.

“I’m actually waiting for someone. Thank you, though.” You kindly reply, smiling sweetly, masking the underlying hatred you feel towards him.

Seokjin simply smiles. That smug smile he always wear. Why did you ever have a crush on him? God. A moment of stupidity. He suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Well, how about I keep you warm until he comes?”

“Or how about you let go of me since you, and I quote, ‘do not like plain, wall-flower looking types of girls’?”

The look on his face is priceless. His eyes widen. A look of utter dread wash over him as he scans your body up and down. No way. This can’t be the nerd he rejected a two years ago?

Damn…you clean up nicely…

“Well, that’s before I knew you could look quite breathtaking.”

“Sorry. I don’t take empty compliments from arrogant pricks like you.”

Seokjin becomes taken back. Not because he’s called a prick since he’s been called worse but by the fact that you suddenly have a backbone.

Kind of hot actually.

“Come on. Don’t be like that. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

That’s it. He’s slowly severing the last string that holds your sanity. Just as you open your mouth, someone else beats you to it.

“Or, how about I punch you right in your fucking smug face if you don’t release my date?”

Choi fucking Junhong. That best friend of yours always has wonderful timing.

Seokjin stares him down. His jaw tightens. Then, he backs suddenly backs off.

He utters a quick, “Whatever…” before disappearing inside the decorated gymnasium. He isn’t about to be jumped by Junhong’s older friends.

Junhong, on the other hand, is blissfully unaware that his friends were right behind him before going inside themselves. He smiles in victory. This sense of pride surges throughout his veins. He honestly feels that he can do anything.

Maybe he should…

Before his confidence evaporates into thin air and taking advantage of the fact that the entire body are currently inside the lively gym, he decides it’s time to confess to you. Until tonight, he has been rehearsing with both his friends and mom on what to say. You deserve the perfect confession, so he has revised his speech until it’s deemed worthy.

Now, all what’s left to do is execute it. He just hopes he doesn’t mess it up.

“Y/N, before we go inside, can I tell you something?”

“Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Damn your warm smile. Why do you have to smile at him like that? Now, his mind is muddled mess and all the rehearsing he has done has gone to waste.

“Okay. Okay. Just say what’s in your heart.” He chants mentally, calming his frenzied nerves. He takes a deep breath, releasing it nice and slow. Then, he takes your hands, taking note of how frozen they must be. He lifts them up to his lips and breathes warm air on them. He then rubs them in between his hands, creating friction in hopes to transfer his body heat to you.

“Warm?”

You nod, thanking him for warming up your almost frost-bitten hands. In which, Junhong argues that it’s not cold enough outside for you to experience frost-bite, so your response is invalid.

“And you call me a nerd?”

“Well, you are a nerd, but you’re my nerd.”

His comment catches you off guard. You feel a warm sensation creep on you slowly.

“Very funny. Okay. Let’s go inside. I want to see your awesome dance moves.” You tell him, pivoting your body away from his. And just as you take a step towards the gym, you feel a pair of arms around your shoulders. Then, something heavy on your shoulder.

“J-Junhong…what are you doing?”

“Throwing four days’ worth of rehearsals and winging it.”

“Come again?”

“You know the saying that you should date someone who’s like your best friend?”

You nod as forming a coherent sentence is impossible right now. The only thing your mind can focus on is your racing heart and sporadic breathing.

Junhong smiles, pressing his cheek against yours, “Well, I thought to myself…why date someone who’s like your best friend when I can just date my best friend?” He says, turning you around so now that your chests touch one another. His face tilting towards you. Adoration glows in his eyes. But why’s he looking at you like how your dad stares at your mom?

Oh…OH!

“You have a crush on me?!” You shriek. Your eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. Your mouth falling open.

Junhong laughs at your cute reaction.

“Yes, shorty. I, Choi Junhong, am head over in heels in love with my best friend.”

“You love me?!”

“Well, you don’t have to shout it like that…”

“But. But. But.”

“Yes, I do have a cute butt. And, as my girlfriend, you have daily access to it.”

You shake your head firmly, refusing his confession with every fiber of your being. Not because you don’t return his feelings. Oh, how you do, but your lingering fears are besting you right now.

You fake a convincing smile, but Junhong knows better. How long have you guys been friends now? Almost five years. You need to try harder.

“What’s so bad about being my girlfriend? Don’t tell me you like that arrogant twat!”

“Are you kidding me? He didn’t like me when I was a mess, so what makes you think he deserves me at my best?”

Junhong grins and chuckles, “Okay good because for a second there, I was worried.”

Now, it’s your turn to chuckle.

“Don’t worry, string bean. You never have to worry about me crushing on other guys when I’ll forever keep comparing them to you.” You accidentally confess. Realizing what has come out of your mouth, the color drains from your face. You quickly cover your face, berating yourself for revealing one of your most hidden secrets.

Junhong beams, loving this newly found information.

“So…you compare potential boyfriends to me?”

“Oh, don’t act like you haven’t done that with potential girlfriends.”

“Never denied that I didn’t, princess.”

You can’t help but groan, questioning him what exactly is going on between the two of you.

Junhong shrugs, “Well, I’m trying to convince you that we should be more than best friends, but you’re being quite stubborn.”

You gawk, “I am not being stubborn!”

“Yes, you are, woman!”

“If I am, then would I say, ‘yes, I would love to be your girlfriend?’!”

Junhong smirks and says, “Finally”, before cupping your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss.

To say that you’re currently experiencing fireworks will be quite the understatement. You honestly feel more than that.

You just feel happy.

The two of you pull away, though, your foreheads remain touching. Goofy grins appear on your faces as you guys simply enjoy the moment. Who needs to be sandwiched by a bunch of sweaty people?

“Do you want to skip the dance?”

“You’ve read my mind.”

“Well, we have been friends since middle school, so it’s only natural that I’m your personal mind reader.”

“And you’ve ruined it…”

“Also, part of my job description.”

You and Junhong bicker back and forth until he captures your lips once more. He pours every ounce of love he has developed for you over the years. He’ll never grow tire of your sweet lips.

“Thank you for agreeing to be my girlfriend.”

“Well, you did say why should I date someone who’s like my best friend when I can simply date you.”

“That I did. That I did."

A/N: I am ashamed that I haven’t released anything new for my soulmate ;-; how dare I not give this man all my love and attention? I am a disgrace! But in all seriousness, in honor of B.A.P celebrating their seventh anniversary of debuting, I thought...why not write a one shot about my no.1 ultimate bias, Choi Junhong! Can’t wait to celebrate more years with you and the rest of B.A.P! #FOREVERWI7HBAP

Don’t forget to leave a comment/like/reblog/a message in my inbox! I love hearing your thoughts! :)

- Kim

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