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imaginethebeautifulworld · 3 years ago

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Let’s say England has a long-term girlfriend he knows isn’t the biggest fan of marriage bc her family had been really really pushy (before she got the heck out of dodge) about her marrying + reproducing ASAP. How might he react if she came to him and said she was kinda starting to like the general concept of marrying him — that is, the whole ‘together forever’ bit. Thanks!

I confess darling that I have been trying to finish this prompt for well over a year, and I offer my sincerest apologies that it’s taken me this long to finish it. Still, despite my tardiness, I hope you enjoy, and I thank you for your patience with me.

You had never intended to fall in love, not with the constant push of your relatives to fall in line like a perfect child.

First, marriage to someone they deemed acceptable, raising the perfect 2.5 children, followed by quietly settling into parenthood and complaisant contentment until the day you last drew breath.

Truth of the matter was, you had avoided all chances of romance for the first few years after you moved away from home, carefully slipping away from anyone who seemed remotely interested in you.

You knew your folks would have disproved such behaviour had they learnt the truth, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You had your own dreams to pursue, your own story to tell, your own life to live; you didn't need someone by your side to feel complete.

You were happy as you were, finding enjoyment in your work and figuring out your place in the world.

You didn’t need, or frankly want, anything more than that.

That was of course until you met him.

Falling in love with Arthur Kirkland had been a complete accident. He slipped past all of your defenses and took up residence in your heart as if he had always belonged there.

It started out slow enough; at first you simply knew him as a familiar face from the cafe in Waterstones, steaming cup of Darjeeling and a chocolate croissant sitting forgotten on the table in front of him, always too focused on his reading to pay any attention to the outside world. After one particularly crowded Sunday afternoon, he began to transition into your favorite dining companion, the two of you often taking turns paying for each other’s food. Slowly but surely, you began forgetting about your books, too wrapped up in conversation, and before you knew it-

You had come to love every part of him- the gentleman that you begrudgingly introduced to your parents, the rebellious and passionate activist, the cocky and playful little shit who had long ago memorised all the best ways to disarm you, and the ancient soul who cared so deeply, who still stretched himself thin most days in effort to protect each of his loved ones.

You fell in love with his voice, whispering sonnets and sonatas and sweet nothings in your ear while his arms cradled you from behind.

You fell in love with his eyes, still losing your footing sometimes when the light caught them just right, dreaming momentarily of summer forests and grassy glades and the misty dews of spring.

You fell in love with his smiles, from the satisfied grin at stirring up Peter’s ire to the breathless wonder each time you kissed or complimented him, to the bright, beautiful, blinding smile he wore when he was incandescently happy, his entire countenance iridescent from his joy.

You loved him completely- for his devotion, for his sweet gestures, for his damned impishness, for his wit, his sass, and the soft spoken affection.

You loved him: for his patience, for his recklessness, for his resilience, for his possessive pride that was somehow more charming than alarming.

He was unique, an enigma that, even after having lived together for years and dating even longer, kept you on your toes, his energy and random spouts of spontaneity proving to you that, even if you spent one hundred lifetimes with him, he would always remain a puzzle you would never fully solve.

And by God did you want to.

Arthur had stolen your heart away from you before you had even noticed he was close enough to take it, offering his own in its stead.

You had remained reluctant, confided in him your fears about settling down, how much you dreaded becoming trapped in a monotonous rut of tedium. He was quick to reassure you, showing through words and actions far more impassioned and teasing than he had ever shown prior, that an eternity with him could never be boring.

Even on quiet days, like today, with a steady drizzle painting the world in greys, Arthur humming quietly while adding another patch to his denim vest, and no other disturbance apart from the cat’s chittering at the robins playing in a puddle by the iron fence- Even now, you weren’t so much bored as you were pensive.

You had been thinking about a future with him a lot in the past few days, some irrelevant ad on your mobile about wedding venues catching your attention and slithering into the back of your mind.

What kind of wedding would he like? Would Arthur prefer something small and intimate, or would his hubris crave a larger venue, giving him yet another chance to prove to the world that he belonged at your side, no one else? You couldn’t help but wonder if he would wear his uniform or a suit, if he would leave the rats' nest he called a hairstyle untouched, or if he would perhaps slick it back in that way that somehow made the normal rakishness disappear, a confident, refined cavalier standing in his place.

You knew of course that none of this mattered unless you actually talked to him first; as far as you were aware, he was content with the current arrangement, and he respected your views of marriage.

He had known, for a long time, just where the grim outlook stemmed from, and he never breached the subject again.

But now-

You had thought it was enough to hold his love, his faith, his vulnerabilities. But life was so fleeting, and now those few things were no longer enough.

You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, wanted the cheesy partners’ towel and flip flop sets. You wanted the physical reminder that you held his heart, the comforting reminder that he completely possessed your own. You wanted to be by his side forever, holding his hand through the good and the ill, facing new worlds and challenges and the uncertain future together.

You knew the risks, of course.

Marriage to a Nation carried an even heavier burden than the simple oath of “till death do us part.”

No, marrying Arthur would mean weaving your entire lives together, binding you on a spiritual level far surpassing mortality; it would mean sacrificing your chance to ever grow old, to eternally give yourself away: heart, mind, body, and soul.

But this was Arthur, who sang showtunes in the shower, who spent hours making silly faces at the cat, who was ridiculously competitive about Halloween costumes, the man who sat down and memorised the entirety of The Tempest in one night just for the bragging rights.

He already owned your heart, constantly invaded your thoughts and daydreams, and God knew he had long, long ago claimed your body, making certain not a single millimeter of his new territory went unexplored.

Would it really be so bad to give him your soul, too?

Glancing back up, seeing his eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers handling the needle with expert precision, lips slightly parted, reading glasses fallen halfway down his nose-

You knew your answer.

It was always going to be Arthur for you, only Arthur.

Forever, should he have you.

But now you faced the challenge of telling him that.

It should be simple enough; you really held no more secrets from him, and he no longer bothered trying to hide anything from you. You loved how open you were with one another, cherished the honesty that served as the very foundation to your relationship.

But the truth was that you were terrified.

It had been so long since either of you had spoken of marriage, since the topic was even a thought in your minds, and-

What if he didn't want you anymore?

What if he-

"I can see the steam coming outta your ears."

The unexpected presence of Arthur's voice startled you, eyes darting back over to the very man who was unwittingly tormenting you.

He had barely moved from his earlier position, though his glasses had been pushed up into his hair and he was studying you curiously, if not bemusedly.

"You good there?"

By default, you nearly responded with an affirmative, some playful, lighthearted thing that would have dismissed his concern immediately. You cut yourself off mid-start, then, while shifting to sit properly in the armchair, you decided to push forward. "Can we talk?"

You watched as his expression shifted, revealing his concern as he tied off his thread, setting aside the patchwork and gestured for you to join him on the sofa.

There were a few awkward moments where you took up your favourite positions, Arthur tossing an afghan across the pair of you despite your insistence that you didn't need one, the flicker of a grin as you begrudgingly thanked him, and then shifting around as you both got comfortable, but soon enough-

"Alright, now; talketh at-eth me."

It was impossible to fight the smile his choice of words triggered, a reference to an inside joke so old now that you could scarcely recall its origin. Seeming to deem it a success, his own soft, reassuring smile greeted you.

"Seriously though, luv-" His hand came to rest atop your own, his fingers gently tapping a familiar rhythm against your skin. "What's troubling you?"

You were half-tempted to offer something short of sincerity, something innocuous and mundane that you could both laugh over and forget again within a few hours. Yet, you knew that if you didn't tell him now, didn't ask him now, you would never find the courage again.

"I've been thinking-"

"Ah. A scary premise in its own right."

"Oh, shut up," you retorted to his tease, smacking his arm for his troubles. He rewarded you with a grin, all fondness and mischief. Opting to ignore him, you pressed on, eyes downcast to avoid whatever judgement he may offer.

"As I was trying to say earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted-" The teasing fell off, and the worry crept back in. "I've been thinking. About us."

"O-oh?"

Were you not so consumed by your own anxieties, you would have noticed his stutter, would have seen the sudden tension in his posture, the fear in his eyes. As it was, you were completely oblivious to all of it, and made yourself continue at his prompting.

"I- I think I'm ready."

He mimed the word "ready" to himself, parroting it with utter befuddlement. "For wha-"

"I mean, I know I wasn't for such a long time, and-" Suddenly, you were off, half unhinged. Now that you had admitted the truth aloud, it was all rushing out of you, everything you had come to love about him, everything that-

A finger pressing firmly against your lips stopped you mid-tangent, and when you glanced up to find piercing, blazing emerald focused on you as if you were the very center of the universe, whatever remained of your ramblings disappeared entirely.

"What are you trying to say?"

A simple question, so easy to answer, yet it carried with it the weight of Infinities, demanding nothing save the truth, in its most basic state.

You were lost in his gravity, half-drowning in whatever this new feeling was. It was addicting, another riddle to be solved.

"Marry me."

Time stood still, the words weighing heavily in the space between you, now seemingly insurmountable despite being no more than mere decimeters.

Arthur showed no reaction, revealed no indication that he had even heard your plea, your query, your command, your request, and yet it echoed over and over in your own mind, the tone, the weight, the untimeliness-

Every facet- from your inflection to chosen tempo- crescandoed as an accusation, a mocking symphony that he would reject you, that you would be left with only the haunting strains of your ill-conceived proposal.

And yet-

There was a hesitation in his eyes, the face of a man who wanted wholeheartedly to believe what he had heard, but had been burned far too often in the past to dare allow himself hope.

"You-" His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as he studied you once more, only for the suspicion to disappear again almost immediately, disbelief swiftly taking its place. "You're serious?"

It was then that you finally read his nervousness, understood the strange emotion reflecting in his eyes.

You had lead him to a precipice, the vast Unknown before you both, and-

And he was just as fragile as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, hoping to ground you both, and offered him a nod. “If you’ll have me, anyway.”

His eyes flickered between your own, darting back-and-forth so quickly in search of a lie, of any doubts, of any hint that you were less than certain- yet you knew he would find none of that.

“What about your family?”

The question took you by surprise; in the moment, you had completely forgotten anyone else even existed.

You weighed his question carefully. Marrying Arthur would give your family leave to gloat in self-satisfaction, and you knew with absolutely certainty that they would hold it over your head for the next three decades. But looking into the eyes of the man before you, remembering all that you had already seen and done together, you found that others' opinions no longer mattered, really hadn't mattered in a long, long time.

“I couldn’t care less about them. Arth-”

Whatever you were going to say was forgotten as he closed the remaining distance between you, moving so swiftly that you scarcely had a moment to steady yourself before he captured you in a searing kiss, one of his most passionate by far.

Somehow, despite the suddenness of it all, the initial force, the intensity-

He was being incredibly gentle, and moving slowly enough to almost be more a torment than a treat. Almost.

You found yourself lost in a daze when he finally pulled away, just enough for each of you to catch your breaths, just far enough that he could study you with rapt attention. You could have drowned in his eyes, endless greens magnetizing in their intensity. His hands were still cradling your cheeks, still holding you firmly in place, a not completely foreign expression creasing his features.

You couldn't quite place it, even as your memories shifted desperately in search of its mate.

"'If I'd have you?'" His words, a rhetorical refrain of your own mere moments earlier, were scarcely a shared breath between you, murmured in timbre so low it summoned a shiver. There was the smallest twitch of his lip, his head tilting ever so slightly as more of that damned deviousness made its presence known. "I fully intend to have you regardless, luv. But the formality of it all certainly adds a particular je ne sais quoi, wouldn't you agree?"

You'd be damned if he knew just how that made your heart flutter, if he knew just how much weight that reassurance had lifted from your shoulders.

Carefree, content, you offered a playful smile. "Till death do us part then?"

Arthur no longer bothered trying to restrain his smile, soft and sincere in a way that left you breathless. "I'll love you till even the stars go cold, my dear."

Thanks for reading~

#england x reader #aph england #arthur kirkland x reader #hello lovelies~!#hws england #hetalia england #aph arthur kirkland #hetalia arthur kirkland #hws arthur kirkland #reader insert #hetalia x reader #hello lovelies!#readerfic #thanks for reading!#aph england x reader #hetalia england x reader #hws england x reader

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dilucids · 3 years ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSacrificial duties, Mondstadt ver.

would they sacrifice you or mondstadt?

includes: jean, lisa, kaeya, diluc, amber, albedo and venti.

( i'm too socially inept to request for someone to do this so i took matters into my own hands. )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 JEAN GUNNHILDR ━━ DANDELION KNIGHT 〕

━━ is this even a debate? jean would sacrifice you to save mondstadt.

━━ the question would tear her apart though, she'd spend so much time trying to find another way to save both her city and you that she'd neglect her health ( basic needs, like eating, sleeping )

━━ if it were a person or god who was demanding these terms, she'd try to negotiate anything to save both, even her own life, though if you were willing, she'd hesitantly ( literally beg you to not go through it and reassure she'll find another way ) let you go.

━━ no matter what she chooses, she'll still feel incompetent in the end, as if she isn't good enough to be the acting grandmaster and would probably overwork herself to try and focus on something.

"I'll do it," Jean looks back at you, horror flashing through her eyes though you didn't falter, still staring the entity in her eyes. The wind picks up as if feeling the ameno swordswoman's vivid emotions, she shakes her head, taking small steps towards you as she reaches out for your hand. You cringe when she fell to her knees, "no no no, please, you don't have to do this."

You don't look at her, knowing it would only make things worse for the both of you, you didn't want her to be the last thing you saw nor did you want your face to plague her dreams like a ghost. "I care about Mondstadt too, Jean." You hope she understands that you were also doing this for your city and doesn't blame herself, "it's my duty."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 LISA MINCI ━━ WITCH OF PURPLE ROSE 〕

━━ lisa is a bit more of a wild card.

━━ lisa only oversees the library of mondstadt but it's really unclear the extent of her care for the city itself.

━━ it's impossible for one to say if she would hold a lover priority over a city due to lack of background so that's why she's more of a wild card right now, because i could see her potentially doing either.

━━ though i'm leaning a little towards sacrificing you because of her closeness with jean and her involvement in the knights of farvonius, she knows it would be morally wrong to sacrifice an entire city for one person, lover or not.

"It's okay," you reassure her, smile still gracing your face albeit the heavyweight pressure of death for your city digging it's claws into your shoulders. "I'm sorry," she apologises for the nth time and you can do no more than squeeze her hand in affirmation, knowing a hug would be too much for the both of you right now.

You feel her fingers slip through yours and your hand is embraced by the winds of Mondstadt, a sudden change from the electricity that plagued her fingertips and passed onto yours. You take a shaky breath and leave her behind you, her eyes watching your back along the way until you were nothing more than a dot in the horizon━━ ready to become a star in the sky.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 KAEYA ALBERICH ━━ FROSTWIND SWORDSMAN 〕

━━ another wildcard!

━━ unlike lisa, however, i'm leaning towards sacrificing monstadt.

━━ even with all his background knowledge, kaeya is still a character that holds a lot of secrets and it's canon that he's a mysterious figure, cavalry captain or not.

━━ don't get your hopes up though, because he still may sacrifice you ( after a talk with jean or diluc/j )

━━ kaeya lets anything happen as long as it falls into place of how he has expected to end, he really doesn't know what to do when an unknown entity shows up and demands the price of you for his city or vice versa.

━━ really hard to get a grasp on him.

━━ i could see him spending one last day with you after deciding he was going to give you up ( you obviously knew of this ) but after 24 hours with you, away from mondstadt, he might realise that, even if he regrets it for the rest of his life, he'll never be able to give you up.

━━ alternatively, if he didn't open up to you about this or went to jean or diluc, they would convince him to "do what's right" and give you up.

"No. I'm not doing it," his tone differed from the norm━━ he was never like this, not even on official knights' business. His eyes unnervingly determined, tone you were unable to refute, and words that scared you. "Kaeya, you have to," your fingers place themselves over his, which were barely touching your cheeks.

"I'm not doing it," he reaffirms, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself out of all people. "I'm━━ I'm not losing you to some city. I can rebuild a city, we can find a city elsewhere," he states, eyebrows furrowed and not taking a single breath between his words. You pry his fingers away from your cheek, holding them over your lap. "Kaeya, this isn't just 'some city', it's the city you love. The city we love." You coax, finally getting him to look into your eyes. "You're the person I love." He says, exasperated.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 DILUC RAGNVINDR ━━ DARKNIGHT HERO 〕

━━ hate to be the bearer of bad news,, and as biased as i am to this man, he would give you up.

━━ wouldn't open up to anyone about it, he'll just drive himself insane pondering both options.

━━ and although it would literally make him insane even thinking about losing someone precious to him ( again ) but his loyalty lies within the city of freedom and the city alone.

━━ even after the dispute with the knights of farvonius ( in the webtoon ), he still remains as the protector of mondstadt and i don't think nor am i able to see it will ever change.

━━ unlike kaeya though, i don't think he'll be able to see you at all once he decides to sacrifice you, he'll just be reminded that he'll never be able to see you again and the terrible decision that he's going to go through with.

━━ will also throw himself into extensive work to get you off his mind afterwards.

"You okay there?" Your eyebrows furrow, leaning against the open door of Diluc's office, seeing his hair tied back into a bun, hands in his face as he gazed deeply at his wooden desk. His head flies up at the sound of your voice, clearing his throat, "when did you get here?"

You shrug, taking steps towards him as he leans back into his chair, "being a hero taking a toll on you?" You tease him, taking a seat on his desk next to him and placing your feet on the chair, leaning forward to cup his cheek. He turns away. You're no stranger to his austere ways so you merely lean back, balancing yourself with your hands against his desk, telling him about your day.

"━━and then he wrapped it up and sent it to me, which was awfully disturbing might I add."

"I'm sorry," your eyebrow quirks when he suddenly cuts into your storytelling. You push yourself forward, reaching out for him and redirecting his gaze ( which hadn't looked in your direction even once ) onto you. "What's wrong my dear?" He only grimaces at the nickname━━ wincing almost and still refused to look at you, gaze cast upon the floor behind his bangs. You couldn't even see his eyes.

"Your guilty act is making me ponder if you've had previous relations with someone else, Master Diluc," you frown a little, using your other hand to force him to peer at you. He leans forward, placing his forehead on yours and whispers, "never."

"I just wanted to apologise for the future," you smile a little and place a kiss on his forehead. "I will always forgive you."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 ALBEDO ━━ THE CHALK PRINCE 〕

━━ albedo's original creator hails from khaeri'ah and venti, archon of mondstadt, was one of the original seven who aided in the destruction of khaeri'ah; is that enough reason to destroy it for a lover? no.

━━ would he still do it? yes, yes, yes.

━━ we all know he considers himself a threat to mondstadt but i don't think he would've ever thought this was why he was a threat, to hold an entire city in his palms and be able to destroy it with a single word was quite a terrifying thought.

━━ it wouldn't stop him though, i really don't think albedo holds any sentimental attachment to mondstadt, he only works and lives there as of right now but he's currently heeding his creater's words and pursuing the truth of the world.

━━ he might grimace over losing a few people that he holds dear and end up rethinking his decision but in the end, will choose you.

━━ another reason i think he would destroy mondstadt is that, once albedo discovers something or the feeling of enlightenment that comes with studying something new disperses, he is quick to stop studying that and abandon it due to the "bittersweet truth" hitting him so if he grew tired of mondstadt,,,,,, rip to jean 🙏

Your eyes flicker from the sight of his back to the unknown entity, hovering just above the floor, her eyes uninterested in you as she gazed into Albedo's eyes, maybe trying to read his expressionless face. "Have you made a choice, Kreideprinz?"

Nothing is said. Nothing from Albedo nor you, you didn't seem to have a part in this private conversation but you also seemed to be an integral part of it due to the way Albedo kept looking back at you, squeezing your hand as if to remind himself that you existed. "I'm choosing them."

She peers at you now, her eyes boring into yours as she scans you for something, "are you sure about this decision?"

For some odd reason, you're not offended by her words, maybe because she didn't sound like she meant it in a rude way ( it also seemed out of her standoffish character ) but was genuine in her curiosity if Albedo would go back on his words. He squeezes your hand again, rubbing circles on the back of your hand━━ something he did to calm you but it seemed that this action was to ground him instead.

"Yes, I am."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 AMBER ━━ OUTRIDER 〕

━━ YOU.

━━ in the most heart breaking – heart warming way ever, she'd give you up.

━━ notice how more than half of these mondstadt fuckers would give you up? yeah 🙄

━━ on a serious note, a lot of them have devoted themselves fully to protecting the city and i don't see any one of them being able to give the command to destory the city, even if their s/o was being held with a knife to their throat right infront of them and amber is the very same.

━━ even though we don't know to much about her, she is seen as a perfect example of justice by kaeya, and is extremely devoted to her work, she's just below diluc and jean in the most to least likely to sacrifice you in my opinion. it's simply overlooked due to her lack of presence in the game.

━━ i think her compassionate and kind side will make it harder for her to come to a decision because she doesn't want to have to lose one thing to keep another but in the end, she will give you up.

Amber seemed extremely distressed, immediately running into Jean's office once arriving back at the Knight's base after finishing her usual trek of Mondstadt's surroundings. You had attempted to call out her as she ran through the halls but she didn't even look your way, which was peculiar to you but you could only guess something dangerous must've happened due to her eagerness of reaching Jean's office, slamming the door wide open.

You quirk an eyebrow and Kaeya, stood beside you, whistled briskly, hands on his hip. "Someone's in a hurry," you roll your eyes at his comment and simply grab his arm, dragging him over to Jean's office, "just shut up and come."

The minute you knock and open the door however, the room is quiet. Jean sat on her chair, elbows placed on the table and concern burrowed deeply within her furrowed eyebrows and Amber, who was shaking her leg up and down in anxiety, fiddling with her nails.

Kaeya seems a little amused by the situation, unlike you, who was extremely concerned by the little actions of anxieties Amber was exhibiting, striding over to her side in an instant. Placing your hand on her shoulder, she leans into you almost instantly and begins quietly sniffling into your shirt.

You mouth to Jean that you're taking her out and Jean nods, thanking you with a small smile on her face. You guide Amber into a quiet room in the headquarters, letting her silently cry as you attempt to soothe her. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head, only repeating a small, "I'm sorry."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 VENTI ━━ WINDBORNE BARD 〕

━━ venti is characterised as a free spirit, like the freedom that the city of mondstadt represents, he carries that within him but at the end of the day, he is still mondstadt's archon.

━━ so we all saw this coming but you 👫

━━ i don't really think there's a lot to explain, he's their archon and even if he loses everyone he's ever loved, his priority is mondstadt.

━━ he'll probably take you on that ride on dvalin he's been promising you for the past year with no explanation.

━━ you'll ask him why he's dragged you from work and he'll just say he's feeling nice or that the winds are good for a ride right now.

━━ you'll stare at him with that, 'don't–you–control–the–winds?' look and he'll wink at you, telling you to stop staring at him or he'll blush.

━━ will completely come undone when he seed you happily laughing on dvalin's back, arms spread open as your laugh echoes into the wind.

Your excited whooping is all he hears, previous nervousness abandoned with his hands placed on your waist as Dvalin pierced up above the clouds; the ground nothing more than a fleeting dream to you both. It's such a shame that young, immature Dendro Archon got his hands on you first, gifting you his gift of Earth's nature━━ if not for the God of Wisdom, Venti would've gifted you heaven's winds if he knew how simply being in the sky made you so ecstatic.

The adrenaline finally dies down when Dvalin arrives just above the clouds, wings creating new and dispersing the old. You lean into Venti who takes this as an invitation to push himself further into your side and begin playing with your fingers, allowing you time to simply relish in the situation. "You're awfully quiet today," you muse, staring at Venti with a small smile.

He hums, "it's quiet up here," in nothing less of a whisper. You nod along with his words, fighting the urge to jump into the clouds, knowing you'll pass right through them. Venti sinks into you further somehow, like you were a passing cloud; his shoulder pressed into the crack of your arm and torso, head leaning on your shoulder. "You'll be okay Venti," and you embrace him.

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin oneshot #genshin lisa #genshin jean #genshin kaeya #genshin amber #genshin albedo #genshin diluc #genshin venti #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader

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radioactivepeasant · 4 years ago

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Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

(Going back a bit in my Everybody Lives au to when Nana and Toshinori first reunited. Little bit angsty I guess. TW for implied death of alternate versions of major characters)

Nana woke to hear her grandson's voice outside her hospital room. There was a metallic clicking accompanying him. Was he on crutches? Using an IV stand? She'd become so bored, staring at the same four walls day to day, that she had begun trying to guess medical equipment by the sound it made rolling down the hall.

"Is my grandma awake? They said we could see her today."

Ah, he didn't sound nearly as tired as he had the last time they'd spoken. In fact, Nana thought he sounded like he was in better spirits than he had been all week!

Nana raised the bed up, eager to see Tenko. Then she heard a second voice, and her stomach dropped with dizzying speed to land somewhere around her bandaged toes.

"I'm here to chaperone young Shimura, never fear! There won't be any overexertion today!"

Toshinori.

[[MORE]]

Nana made a soft, choked sound that the nurse immediately picked up on. Super hearing wasn't always all it was cracked up to be, but it made his work at the hospital much more efficient. He opened the door quickly to check on his patient, worried that she might have been in some kind of pain or distress. In the doorway behind the nurse, Nana could see Tenko sitting in a cheap wheelchair, wearing an All Might brand jacket. Where had he gotten that? And more relevant, how were they going to convince him to take it off to be washed? As Nana considered this, she lifted her eyes to the man pushing the chair. That was...

Was...

Tears slipped down Nana's cheeks despite the smile that spread trembling over her face.

"Toshinori?" she asked, "My Toshi?"

The whip-thin man seemed to fold in on himself. His face crumpled, and it was clear that he was using every ounce of his self-control to keep from an emotional outburst of some kind. The nurse looked between the two, finished checking his patient's vitals, then very hastily stepped out to allow All Might his privacy.

"Call me if you need anything," he assured them as he shut the door.

For a moment, Toshinori stood frozen in place. This wasn't her -- but it was! Somehow, it was! -- she didn't truly know him, did she? Could he even say that he knew her?

Nana unceremoniously interrupted his thoughts when she reached out her good arm for him. "My boy," she gasped, wiping tears onto her sling, "My sunflower boy, you're here!"

Alternate timelines be blasted. This was Nana. She was here!

Toshinori fumbled to take her hand. It was warm. Flesh and blood. This was real. Nana Shimura was really, truly, alive. He made a small, helpless sound, and Nana pulled him down with a surprising strength into her arms. She buried her face in his hair and sniffled.

"I've missed you so much!" Nana pulled back and held Toshinori's face in one hand. "I thought I'd never see you again and- and here you are!"

She laughed through her tears. "One of my sons, back from the dead. I must be doing something right."

Sons.

Plural.

Sons.

Something broke in Toshinori. A wall he'd hidden behind for over half of his life. He clung to the woman and buried his face in her shoulder. And for perhaps the first time since the day he'd lost her, All Might cried.

"You...! I..." he choked and fought to clear his voice. "I- even though you had your own family, I always thought of you as my own mother," he confessed, finally able to say the words to her face.

"Hey! I am your mother," Nana whispered into his hair. "No- no matter what...what version of you...I'll always be your mom, Toshi."

It was a long time before any of their eyes were dry.

Nana spent much of the visit clinging to Toshinori as though she feared that he would melt away the moment she let go. And he, for his part, was much the same. There was much between their two timelines that didn't match up, things that wouldn't reconcile according to the laws of Flashpoint's Multi Theory. But they could compare and contrast memories later. Now was the time for catharsis.

Tenko sat on the end of Nana's bed, watching his grandmother fuss over All Might as if he were a boy again. This version of Uncle Yagi seemed flummoxed by the attention, as though he wasn't used to being doted on. Flummoxed, but Tenko could tell he was sort of shyly enjoying it. Sensing his gaze, Nana abruptly looked up at him and grinned.

"We did it, kiddo!" she laughed and choked past a lump in her throat. "We got him back!"

Tenko scooted closer to them. His eyes shone with both excitement and unshed tears. "We got more than that, Gram. The Midoriyas survived, too."

Nana turned quickly to stare up at Toshinori. "Inko's alive? And poor little Izuku?"

Toshinori was, on the one hand, curious about the hints of explanation he was hearing. But on the other hand, the conclusion they pointed to was disturbing. Once he knew the truth, Toshinori knew he would never be able to go back.

Just now, it didn't seem worth the nightmares to ask.

"Young Midoriya is 16 now," he said softly. "A wonderful, compassionate young man. He's...he's my successor."

"Ah!" Nana squeezed his hand. "I can't imagine him all grown up, I'm just picturing little chubby cheeks and curls still! But I can't imagine there being a better candidate from what I remember."

Having his predecessor blatantly and verbally affirm his choice of a successor gave Toshinori a confidence boost he hadn't realized he'd needed. Sir Nighteye's harsh words, and the protective anger they'd kindled, were muffled now. Drowned out by the opinion that mattered to him most: that of his predecessor.

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blueaura · 4 years ago

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Lost and Found Ch. 7

A/N: I was supposed to finish this chapter the day before yesterday but then the finale happened and I needed time to recover. I loved it - it wasn’t perfect but I still absolutely loved it. It made me cry, which I detest but I still loved it. If anyone wants to talk about the finale, send me an ask or a message! Thanks to everyone who’s read and re-blogged it this far. As always, any tips and suggestions are welcome. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Y/N didn’t know how to feel when Dean said they were 10 minutes out. She was nervous and anxious at the prospect of entering an unknown environment, but she was also reluctantly looking forward to not sleeping in a motel room anymore. She tried to desperately keep herself calm as they approached the bunker. The car ride had been surprisingly enjoyable. Dean’s music was similar to her tastes and they had a lot of fun annoying Sam, who ended up plugging in his earphones. The tension present in the beginning of the ride had melted away by the third Metallica track, and Y/N had finally relaxed after all the excitement of the previous day. But now she felt all her emotions crowding her, bombarding her senses as the distance between them and her new home continued to shrink. Temporary new home, she reminded herself.

Dean noticed her little freak out session in the backseat but decided against pulling over. He knew that if he gave her the slightest chance, she’d run, even if deep down she wanted this. So, he just continued driving and hoped that she would have an easier time once they arrived and she had a chance to unwind.

The bunker came into view just a few minutes later and Dean winced as he belatedly realised how this abandoned building would look to a stranger like Y/N. He didn’t exactly see any option other than to get her inside the bunker and re-affirm that she’s safe, so he pulled up in front of the huge building as Y/N took in her surroundings.

“This is your home?” she sounded skeptical, but not afraid which Dean took as a good sign.

“It was an old men of letters bunker and since they were all wiped out in the 50s, as legacies, we took over. Our grandfather was a member.” Sam had already jumped into nerd mode and started explaining who the men of letters were, so Dean figured his brother could handle Y/N and busied himself with unlocking the front door.

Y/N walked down the steps still not exactly sure this was as awesome as Dean had described in the car, but then the entirety of the bunker came into view and she looked around in awe. Sam and Dean exchanged looks of barely contained glee as they saw the young hunter excitedly explore the place. This was probably the most animated they had seen her in their short time together. She actually looked and acted like a kid and Dean’s heart ached at the unfamiliar sight.

“This is amazing! You guys have your own freaking bat cave!”

Sam started to explain everything to Y/N and Dean took this opportunity to go in search of their resident angel. With a quick word to his brother, letting him know where he was going, Dean made his way to Cas’s room leaving Y/N and Sam to nerd it out.

He knocked on Cas’s door but heard no response. Worried, he twisted the handle to find it unlocked. He opened the door completely and stopped in his tracks, smiling wryly at the sight that greeted him. Cas had apparently taken Sam’s suggestion to heart. He was lounging in what looked like Dean’s sweatpants and hoodie, with Netflix playing on the TV he had apparently dragged from Sam’s room to his own. Cas himself was sound asleep, the dim light from the TV letting Dean see the drool on his face. He snickered quietly and took out his phone to click a picture.

Although Cas looked better than before, Dean was still worried about his friend. Just the fact that he needed to sleep was enough to tell him that Cas wasn’t at full strength, despite his claim that he was better. He contemplated waking the angel up and introducing him to Y/N but decided against it. He looked relaxed for the first time in days and Dean couldn’t find it in his heart to disturb him just yet.

After taking a couple of more pictures, for blackmail material of course, Dean finally left Cas to rest, closing the door lightly behind him. Instead of joining Sam, he decided to make up a room for Y/N and hunt down some food. He chose the room right in front of his, so that if she had any problem, she could come straight to him. He also realised at that particular moment that he cared more about this girl than he did for his privacy and it was a little jarring for Dean Winchester. He knew Sammy would probably make fun of him for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He made his way back to the war room after making sure Y/N’s room had everything she could need, and realised that Sam had moved on to the library where Y/N was currently exclaiming over all the different books, seemingly over her hesitation of staying with them.

“Well, Cas is asleep and I think your room is missing a TV. And possibly some clothes. He was lounging in sweats which is a first. But at least he looked better,” Dean said to Sam.

“I thought angels didn’t sleep?” Y/N turned to Dean, still at ease, which made him less anxious about having her there. Maybe it would just work after all.

“Usually they don’t. Cas… he already wasn’t at full strength but then this witch Rowena put a rabid dog curse on him – it’s a whole thing, I’ll explain later. But he was pretty wiped out and I guess he’s still recovering. He doesn’t look near death anymore though, which is good.”

“I’m more surprised that he’s actually wearing something other than his usual look,” Sam snorted.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ve ever seen him wearing normal clothes besides that one time when he was human – it’s a long story,” he said before Y/N could ask.

“You’ll tell me later I presume,” she said wryly, echoing his previous statement, “You guys have a lot of long stories.”

“What can I say? Our lives are interesting,” Dean grinned. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

He walked her through the bunker, showing her the common washrooms, the kitchen and pointing out his and Sam’s rooms.

“And this,” he pushed open the door, “is yours. You can personalise it if you want. I’m right next door and Sam’s is right down the hall so, holler if you need anything.”

Y/N looked inside and suddenly the overwhelming feeling came back. Her own room. For the first time in her life she had a place she could call her own, albeit temporarily, she had to keep reminding herself.

“Thanks,” she said, and if she sounded a little choked up, Dean mercifully didn’t mention it.

“Settle in and get some rest kiddo,” he nodded at her, “Cas will probably be up in an hour or so… you can meet him then.”

He hesitated at the door. “Have you… did you change your mind?” he cleared his throat roughly, “about Cas and the… thing I mean.”

“I… I don’t know Dean. Maybe later. It’s already too much right now.”

She felt awful when he visibly deflated, cursing herself for hurting someone who had been nothing but kind to her.

“Yeah, alright. No problem, kid. Just – let me know if you change your mind.”

He quickly left the room after that.

Y/N was pacing her new room. She couldn’t get over the defeated look on Dean’s face. She knew he wouldn’t show it, but he too really wanted to get it over with. If she was being honest with herself, so did she. She was just scared.

The more Sam reiterated the idea, the stronger it grew in her head. At first, she had laughed at the mere implication that Dean Winchester could be her biological father, but then she started building it up in her head, and now she honestly needed to know. Because now she wasn’t sure it was a joking matter, after all.

But for a person like her to even begin to grasp the idea of family was too much. She wasn’t scared of whatever the results could be. She could do worse in that area. What scared her was whatever came after – after finding out the truth. She once again felt anger rising for her mother. If only she had been honest, this wouldn’t be happening. But then again, Sandra L/N was hardly ever honest.

Could she be happy here? It was safe, she had access to food. It was a home base – everything she had dreamed of having in the last few years since she had been alone. And rationally, she knew Sam and Dean wouldn’t hurt her – at least not intentionally. She usually took much longer to trust someone but there was just something about them that made her feel… safe. Something she hadn’t felt with anyone in a long time.

So maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. She was pretty sure they wouldn’t pressure her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with – Sam had reassured her of that much already. And maybe she would finally have someone to look out for her and in return she could look out for them.

She started pacing more furiously as she went over multiple scenarios in her head, overthinking every little detail. Family equalled hurt and pain in her head. And for Y/N, it had always been difficult to win against her head. She remembered when she used to believe in her mother, before she had realised that she was just a burden to her – someone she got saddled with and had no choice but to drag around. She hadn’t stopped hunting when Y/N was born, in fact she had thrown herself more into it. Her recklessness was what had finally done her in. Y/N had mostly been left with the neighbours or cheap babysitters when she was younger, before her mother decided that she was old enough to survive without supervision. She had been 6 at the time.

She had figured out how to survive by herself and she was good at it. She didn’t mind being alone, but she also craved affection, which created a weird juxtaposition of want and need inside her, that she mostly tried to bury deep down. The past week had thrown her life into a complete frenzy and all her defence mechanisms seemed useless at that moment.

Before she could spiral further, Sam knocked at her door, to fetch her for dinner. She visibly reigned herself in, but Sam didn’t comment once – just gave her an understanding smile. All these little instances were piling inside her head – how kind the Winchesters were to her and how much they seemed to care about her, making her crave that connection with them that she was too scared to allow herself to form.

“Cas is up. He’s in the kitchen with Dean, so you can meet him now,” Sam said as he started leading the way to the kitchen. Y/N’s steps faltered behind him. He paused and looked back at her,

“Hey, it’s alright. Cas is not gonna hurt you and we’ll be there the entire time,” Sam tried to console her.

“I know… I think I’m just realising that I’m about to meet an actual angel,” she squeaked, forgetting everything else for a minute.

Sam smiled at that. He remembered how overwhelmed he had been when he’d first met Cas, although the meeting hadn’t been a great one. He and Dean sometimes forgot that having an angelic best friend was not common for everyone else.

“You’ll be fine. Cas isn’t like other angels – for one, he isn’t a complete dick,” Sam laughed as he continued with Y/N in tow.

“Easy for you to say. I have never even met an angel before!” This easy camaraderie with the brothers was what was pushing her to get over her fears and Y/N could feel that pull again – the need to find out more.

“Well, you��re about to in a minute. Come on,” Sam gently pushed her in front of him, guiding her to the kitchen.

She saw Dean first, who was handing a cup of coffee to, she presumed, Castiel. Cas wasn’t what she imagined he would be. He didn’t seem intimidating. He had a ridiculous case of bedhead going on and it looked like Dean was in mother-hen mode again, as Cas was wearing a blanket around his shoulders that he didn’t seem too happy about.

Dean turned to her and smiled, gesturing for her to take a seat as he put the final touches to the pasta he’d whipped up.

“Well, looks like it’s introduction time! Y/N, this is our best friend and resident angel – Castiel. Cas, this is Y/N,” Dean grinned as Cas tried to awkwardly shake Y/N’s hand.

“It’s really good to meet you Y/N. I understand that you’re looking for some answers I may be able to provide. I hope I can be of assistance,” Cas’s voice was very deep, which surprised Y/N. She weakly smiled back at him, not entirely comfortable with the subject.

“Ah, yes. We’re gonna take a rain-check on that bud. You’re not at full strength yet and I don’t want you to derail your recovery,” Dean didn’t want to put Y/N on the spot and say she didn’t want to find out yet. The kid had been through enough.

“Dean, I’m fine,” Cas said, annoyance clear in his voice, “It barely requires me to do anything. I just need to look at her soul.”

“My soul?” Y/N squeaked, but no one heard her because Dean was suddenly almost yelling.

“Wait, wait, wait! Look at her soul? Like what you did to that boy, and to Sam when he was soulless? Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Sam was what?” her voice was even more high-pitched now but again, she was ignored.

“No Dean. I don’t need to touch her soul to recognise it. I merely need to look at it carefully, with her permission of course. I’m very familiar with your soul, I would recognise a piece of it anywhere,” Cas assured in a soothing voice. Dean was now looking away, embarrassed and Y/N wondered what was going on there. She turned to Sam – confusion clear on her face. He just shook his head, exasperated. Clearly, he had been stuck watching this dance for a long time.

“Yeah, alright. As long as there’s no soul touching involved. That isn’t pleasant from what I’ve seen. And look, there’s no rush alright? You need to rest a little more and Y/N needs some time to adjust,” Dean said much more calmly now that he knew he wouldn’t be subjecting Y/N to excruciating pain.

Cas was clearly rearing up to argue with Dean about his ability to perform the task, regardless of his recovery, when Y/N spoke from behind them.

In that split second, she decided that it was no use putting it off until later. She would either drive herself crazy or talk herself out of it entirely and run away from the only safe place she knew.

“Alright. Do it.”

Everyone stopped talking immediately, which unnerved Y/N to no end, but she steeled herself against the scrutiny. This was it. This was her choice.

“Let’s do this,” she repeated, nodding for good measure.

Dean looked at her for a good minute, then nodded to Cas, clenching his fists even as Sam moved to stand beside him and Cas came to stand in front of where Y/N was sitting.

She exhaled sharply as she felt his palm touch her forehead. It was show time.

Chapter 8

TAGS: @vicmc624 @carisi-sonny @zizzlekwum @geekqueen5 @mondefantastique @lemondropirwin @hamildork @mrswhozeewhatsis

If anyone else would like to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #dad!dean x daughter!reader #platonic relationships #Cee tries to write

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rwbyvein · 3 years ago

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Firen Lhain: Chapter 711: The Hart of the Oak: Part I/III

"So, sister?" Winter asked, "You are... happy with this arrangement?"

"I understand it would be difficult to fathom." Weiss said to her, "But yes, indeed."

"How much is a fathom, anyways?" Ruby asked.

"Six feet." Winter quickly stated, "Though not in the context used."

"I'm still getting used to Weissy words." Ruby voiced.

"Weiss-y... words?.." Winter quietly asked, doing her best to not be judgemental.

"It's meaning seems to have shifted from overbearingness to simply, dare I say, effeetness." Weiss said to her, "It is made with the utmost affection."

"Yes!" Ruby shouted, "I think."

"There is quite a bit here I fail to comprehent, but..." Winter voiced.

"Buuuut?" Nora asked.

"But, I have never seen you so happy." Winter continued, "It is almost disturbing. Perhaps showing us that the life we led was subpar."

"This is warm and touching an all," Raven uttered, "but I think I'm going to take off."

"Just like you always do." Yang voiced. Raven looked at her, but wasn't sure what to say, so instead just stood up and walked away. "That's what I thought." Yang stated.

"And she is?.." Winter asked Weiss, "your mother in law?"

"She wishes." Yang harshly voiced.

"Their relationship is?" Weiss said, and paused, "Complicated."

"I do believe I can sympathize." Winter stated.

"Wait?" Yang asked, "I thought you guys hated your dad?"

"Father was a monster." Weiss simply stated, "Mother, however, was absent."

"She ran away?" Yang asked.

"She might as well have." Weiss stated.

"She had a fondness for wine." Winter said with a disappointed tone.

"Weiss did tell us this." Blake stated.

"Uh... when?" Yang asked, Ruby looking curiously on.

"The night Aurora served us wine." Ren stated, "Or, I believe the morning after."

"He did look pretty together the next morning." Yang said, looking at him.

"Temperance is a virtue." Ren said with a light smile.

Nora looked between everyone, seeing no one call him out on it, "Oh, man, you guys believed him?"

"Why wouldn't we?" Jaune asked.

"Oh, man," Nora continued, "he was hung over for like 2 days."

Ren developed a weak smile, the smile of someone completely unused to lying. "My meditation apparently does not make me immune to hangovers." he voiced.

"And this night was?.." Winter asked.

"Magical." Weiss said with a bright smile. "We had just been affirmed as Huntsmen and Huntresses. And you know what that means for minors."

Winter looked about for a moment, "In the case that minors are given their letters-patent, they are emancipated?" Weiss nodded.

"The first drink," Yang stated, "I didn't have to hide from dad." Winter nodded affirmatively. "But, as it turns out, dad knew about my drinking and was just always looking the other way. I mean, seriously, if I thought about it, I kind of did a shit job of hiding it from him." she said warmly.

"Your father helped you to evade the law?," Winter asked, "and you treat this as a fond memory?"

"Nothing brings a father and son together," Jaune stated, "like sticking it to The Man."

"I hate to break it to you," Blake coyly interjected, "but you are The Man, m'lord."

"M'lord?" Winter asked. "You have your... wives?.. call you sir?"

"Who told you?!" Ruby nervously exclaimed.

"He also spanks us." Yang eagerly said.

Jaune closed his eyes, breathing in deeply to temper his temper. He then opened them, looking Winter in the eyes. She turned to look into his. "The Black Hart of the Woods made me an Earl." Jaune said. "Now, since the meaning of Earl has changed drastically over the milennia, I really don't know exactly what that means."

"The... Black Hart?" Winter asked.

"We could introduce you!" Nora exclaimed.

"Though," Ren voiced, and everyone looked at him, "he would likely demand you pay Jaune tribute."

"He would, pardon, what?" Winter asked, and Jaune shrugged.

"He was the one who made me an earl." Jaune stated.

"Wait?" Nora asked, "Jaune's The Man?! I'm working for The Man?! I have a sudden urge to ride a lamb."

"That is not t'which that saying refers." Ren stated.

"It's not?" Nora asked.

"How about a lamb Faunus?" Ruby asked.

"So?," Yang interrupted, "Nora would ride a lamb Faunus?"

"Also not t'which that saying refers." Ren stated.

"So, what's it mean?" Yang asked.

"L-A-M." Blake stated, "To beat a hasty retreat."

"So, we're hiding with Lambs?" Nora asked.

"We have enough room to graze lambs." Weiss simply stated.

"First things first." Jaune stated, and looked at Winter, "Did you want to meet the Black Hart?"

"And do you have appropriate tribute?" Weiss added.

Winter brought her hands together and paused.

"Wait, you do?" Ruby asked.

"It was meant as a gift for my sister, on her... either engagement or nuptuals." Winter said, and then looked at Jaune, "Are you her husband or her beau?"

"Like a staff?" Nora asked.

"B-e-a-u." Blake added. "It means handsome."

"Or," Weiss added, "in this context my handsome man."

"He IS pretty handsome." Nora stated.

"You do have your own." Weiss said to her.

"I do?" Nora asked, and Weiss looked at Ren. "I don't know, Ren is more beautiful, don't you think?"

A pregnant paused followed.

"So?" Blake asked, "Who wants to go walk in the woods?"

"I hate to eaves drop..." Taj stated.

"No you don't." Yang said to him.

"No I don't." he said with a smile, and took a couple steps into the lounge, and in reply Winter sighed. "Is that any way to talk to your friendly neighbourhood travel agent?"

"He does know a great place to drop us off." Yang stated. "So, there's that."

"Yes..." Winter voiced, "please introduce me to this Black Hart."

"Of the woods." Ren said with a smiled, and turned to leave the lounge, Nora immediately behind him.

* * *

Winter and Weiss waited while Ren and Nora went to their room, and Jaune and her wives went up to the top floor. Taj disappeared under the stairs over to the hangar.

* * *

J + R_BY walked down the stairs. Jaune tossed Weiss' belt, which she caught. She affixed it as they approached, Jaune passing Myrtenaster in it's scabbard.

* * *

Taiyang picked up his scroll and saw a message from Yang. 'Hey, dad. We're taking Super Weiss to go see the Black Hart. Tell Raven if she bothers to ask about us.'

* * *

The airship dropped them in the glade, and the group quickly leapt down. Jaune stopped and turned back to Ilia, last on the airship. He held his hands out to her, head tilted back to avoid goring her. She weakly smiled before jumping down into his arms. He then put her down as he smacked the airship. It then lifted back up into the air.

* * *

Winter walked through the darkened woods until she felt a presence. She thought she saw the trees themselves moving, until she realized their were great antlers from a dark form. "You have brought her to my woods!" a great voiced bellowed, that made Winter feel momentarily faint. "Does this mean she is friend or foe?!"

"She's Weiss' sister!" Jaune bellowed through the woods. Immediately after Ruby let out a great howl. Weiss turned to glare at her, and Ruby looked about nervously.

"Humanoid siblings are not something we ken, but I suppose we could view the other Great Beasts as my kin, as you would view yours! Kin or no, you are in the woods of my earl! Have you brought sufficient tribute?!"

Winter stood up properly, "I have brought Dust!" Winter exclaimed.

"You value this as your lives?!" the great voiced asked. "Does my earl consider this sufficient tribute?"

"I do!" Jaune bellowed.

"Then!," the great voice stated, "you have the freedom of my woods, so long as the earl allows!"

Winter then thought she felt the earth quake, though that might just be her, as the black form moved away, the trees seeming to move with it. She shook her head and stood back at attention. "Great one?!" she bellowed, and the moving shape in the forest stood, and turned to look at her. She could not see eyes, consciously, but it was as if they were boring into her soul. "You must have great power to claim the woods as your own?!" she asked, and there was a moment's pause. She had to steel herself to not visibly shake.

"I do!" the great voice simple bellowed.

"Could you not help us to?.." and a great shout echoed from the darkened wood to silence her.

"We!" he snarled, "Have not choice!" The form then turned to step away. In the absence of his petrifying gaze, Winter found her body loose and aquiver.

* * *

They walked back towards the glade, but Winter found Jaune's gaze ever affixed on her. He watched her like a beast in the forest, his eyes able to gleam truth from the darkwood.

"Sister?" Weiss asked her, and Winter found her body quake. She quickly breathed in deep to stop the dark blue flush, and stop her body from shaking.

"Your beau has been staring at me." Winter said, using all of her strength to stop her body from shaking.

"Jaune?" Ruby accused, and Jaune stopped, at the vanguard, everyone else stopping with him. He somehow turned around despite the wood, his antlers avoiding the branches of the trees that would thwart him. He turned to look first at Ruby, then Weiss and Winter, and then everyone else.

"It is from concern." Ren stated, and then turned to continue on their path. Jaune turned to walk away, and the train of people turned to follow him.

"How could you meet that being?!" Winter shouted, "And not feel afraid?"

"You mistake my meaning." Ren said without looking back, "His concern is for you."

Winter then looked between everyone else. They didn't seem at ease, but at least far more at ease than she was.

Ren then momentarily stopped to look at her, "To answer your unasked question, our faith in our leader is what gives you strength." Ren then turned to continue down the path.

"So, Jaune's worried about Winter?!" Ruby asked, and Jaune dismissively raised and waved his hand without looking back.

"And what gives him strength?" Winter asked.

"You - don't - want - to - know!" Jaune's great voice bellowed through the woods.

* * *

Winter climbed onto the airship first, assuming it was because she was the guest. When she looked forward she found Taj looking back. "Why don't you come join me in the cockpit?" he asked, and gave her a friendly, beckoning wave. She walked forward to the cockpit and sat down in the co-pilot's seat. "Now, I know I have a bit of a reputation, but I do have a bit of advice for you?"

"And that would be?" Winter neutrally asked. Taj looked back to make sure everyone was seated.

"We ready to go?!" he asked, and Jauned nodded. Taj looked back and started to take the ship up. "So, there's no easy way to say this, but they're going to offer you the guest room, because you're a guest, and they tried to offer them to us."

"And you did not partake?" Winter asked.

"Ilia likes to be alone, has a bit of a trouble getting on with others."

"And yourself?" Winter asked.

"Yeah, well, you see, at night, the tower shakes."

"Periodic, predicatble earthquakes?" Winter asked, and Taj shook his head.

"It comes from the top."

"Wind shear?" Winter asked, and once again Taj shook his head. "Perhaps something to do with the gravity knots in the aerodrome?"

Taj sighed, "I suppose I'm going to have to spell it out, the new couple... coupling..."

Winter looked at him first with disbelief, then wished she still disbelieved. Her body flushed both light and dark blues and she stared forward for a few minutes. "He is strong enough to SHAKE - THE - TOWER?!"

"Exactly who is doing what is best left to the imagination." Taj voiced.

Winter's colour-shifting continued as she looked about lost, trying to come to some rational sense. "And, the others?"

"Ren and Nora do not seem to mind." Taj stated. "Aurora seems happy about it."

Winter gave him another disbelieving gaze.

#rwby #firen lhain #faunus au #pollinated knight

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years ago

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'A job to do' : an new chapter for "The woman with an strange name" is out !

Chapter Summary : It's time for the sheriff & Bell to honor their invitation tonight at the mayor's house, still wondering what it could be about.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart , @smokeywhalee (If anyone want to be added, feel free to tell me, same thing for my main fic "Redemption of an Spirit in an Cold War')

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That kiss was something that Bell didn't expect at all when she, along with the help of the sheriff Azoulay, saved miss Park from these two undercover mexicans in that alley. Blushing was something usual after that kind of gesture but Bell was having thoughts about herself after that kiss. It was mostly thoughts & questions about how she was feeling about everything....about herself...like if it did start an internal crisis inside of her about her feeelings.

It maybe took 2 minutes for the sheriff to actually be able to get miss Bell out of her thoughts in that alley and then, to walk away from it. To say, he was still curious of an lot of things him too after this event but it quickly fade away to be focused back on the new situation : the two have to go now to Adler's house as the day was ending, getting replaced by the evening. The two needed to be prepared for anything.

"You're still thinking of it ?" The sheriff spoke up as him & Bell were slowly walking into the direction of the mayor's house, taking their time. He was still seeing that confused face on her, causing him to ask that question.

"Uhm....yeah, why ?" She replied in an low voice, her face still blushing.....hell, she was thinking that nothing could have removed that blushing on her face and she needed to remove it quick before both arrive near the house.

"It was just an thankful kiss, miss Bell." The sheriff said, thinking it was an bit of an overreaction that she did to that.

"I know but...." She started, covering her face with her hands and looking away. "It put me some questions inside of me." She added, telling him of the last situation.

"What sort of questions ?" He asked her in an curious tone.

"I don't know but I can't talk about it." She responded, refusing to talk about these questions she got in the back of her brain that is maybe questioning things about herself, she couldn't raise her voice for that. "It's better that we...get focus on that invitation." She affirmed as the two were arriving at an few meters from the portal separating them from the house they were invitated, guarded by 4 armed men with rifle and revolvers.

"Adler's guests arrived, it seems." One of the armed men started, looking like the chief of those keeping this portal protected day & night.

"We're here like he said." The sheriff told him as the chief was gesturing to his boys to get near them.

"Frisk them, boys." He ordered in an clear voice, one man starting to search Lazar from any hidden weapons the two could possess but the only armed person here was Bell herself. She couldn't hide two Modele 1899 & an Colt Single Action Army inside her shirt or her pants while two men were frisking her and to be honest, she was mostly thinking that these two guys were taking their time to do so....admiring her 'assets' but she wasn't stupid, having sense that at the start of their frisking.

"You're enjoying my ass, perverts ?" She demanded in an half-angered voice, arms & legs spread as she was knowing that one of the men that were frisking her was just near the place she just mentioned.

"No...I do not..." The guy that was doing that tried to protest but his voice and gestures was already betraying him at the second he speak up.

"Sure, you do." She muttered, looking at the chief as the two assigned to frisk her removed their both hands off her, leaving her to breath freely for an minute.

"You will give up your guns when you will enter inside the house." The chief of the guards told the sheriff & Bell, opening the portal behind him to let them enter the property. "Walter, Hunter, you keep them under control until they're at the front door." He ordered, talking to the one who responded to Bell about her statement and the one who checked up the sheriff before the two, accompanied by the guards could pass, walking to get to the front door and this time, greeted by Adler's lieutenant, Jason Hudson, on the porch of the big house

"So, here's the sheriff and this....miss Bell." He exclaimed, holding his belt with his hands, looking at them both. "You know that I have to take your guns for the moment, they will be given back to you once you leave." He explained, causing Bell, the only armed person here, to unbuckle her three guns off their holstlers, holding the three in one hands but she predicted things by removing the two mags of her two Modele 1899 to be careful, keeping them with her.

"You better not doing anything with them." She warned Hudson, handing over her guns to him in an very clear voice, no one fucks with her guns.

"Okay." Hudson chuckled, rolling his eyes around before opening the front door of the house, letting them inside. "Follow me !" He ordered as Bell & the sheriff was discovering the entrance of the house, a bit amazed as it was their first time in that place.

That house was very different from every house & building in Redemption and the style of it could already be seen by looking at the entrance. Looking very modern and like those houses back in the East, mostly habited by rich people as everything was looking pretty new and shiny but the two weren't here to discuss about that house. Hudson make them follow him upstairs to join Adler's office, passing through the guards inside until they arrived at his office.

"Russ, here they are !" Hudson opened the door of Adler's office as he was sit on his desk, looking to have awaited all day on it for this moment to happen.

"Ah, my friends, take an seat." Adler greeted them, getting up from his desk as he pointed to the two seats in front of his desk before walking to get sit on his own behind it. "You can go now, Hudson." He said, causing Hudson to close the door and leaving the trio alone

"Why are we here ?" The sheriff demanded in an curious voice as he was sitting down.

"If it's only to dispose of us, you could have make it in public !" Bell stated, mixing between joking and been totally serious about the subject, doing the same thing as the sheriff, sitting down on their chair.

"Oh no, I'm not going to do that unless you make me no choices to do so." He exclaimed, putting his arms crossed on his desk, looking at her with curiosity. "Before starting to talk business, I have heard from Park that you saved her from mexicans." He revealed to both of them, explaining their exploits they did earlier.

"Yes, Adler but miss Bell was the one to do everything, I was just here to help." The sheriff reaffirmed that to him directly, not wanting to share the credits despite the good action he did. "It's her who managed to save her, not me."

"And that's an good thing." Adler reassured them as Bell was an bit disturbed to be the only one to congrats here, the sheriff did save Park too. "But the thing is...why your eyes are getting on my wife, miss Bell ?" He asked her in an serious voice, wanting to know why an woman was looking at his wife...

"I don't know, there's things we can't resist to look at." She answered, true in her words as it was an mean to say his rule to not put eyes on his wife was pretty stupid at its best. "I was just....curious." She added to her response to him.

"Curiosity ?" He whispered, tapping his hands on his desk at an slow rate, looking at the both of them in from of it. "That's an word that has been in my head at the moment I heard that an stranger was making noises in my town." He confessed, remembering that moment when he saw her in that saloon two days ago.

"I guess that this word is what we got all in common." The sheriff scoffed, trying to appease the situation by looking at the glare of each other.

"Maybe you're right but anyway...." Adler took an deep breath, thinking that it was better to not talk about this anymore, his wife wasn't the subject here, not his 'property'. "Let's get down to business, shall we ?" He proposed as the two nodded to him quickly. "As you witnessed, it seems that we got an lot of problems coming from an mexican gang at the south."

"I also got....well, I helped the gunsmith to make an delivery and we got jumped by mexicans." Bell explained, now knowing that the things Adler wanted to talk was about them.

"I know : an soldier came to give me the news." He gestured at her, meaning that he was already aware of that event. "To be brief, we're having confrontations with an mexican gang leaded by an woman and we're trying our best to wipe them out."

"And what do you want, exactly ?" The sheriff questioned him, wanting to get straight to the subject.

"I want....you to make her your new deputy." Adler replied, making them both eyes going wide.

"What ?" Both said in unison, stunned by those words.

"I know that you won't join us like that but I was thinking of letting you back to exerce your job as sheriff." Adler told him, his voice saying the truth as Bell was trying to figure out if he was joking or not....he wasn't joking...."You two can help to 'reassure' the people in town with the law." He continued, watching the two still stunned.

"You want me to take back the post you took away from me ?" Adler nodded to the sheriff's question and an sense of delight was coming inside of the sheriff.

"Of course, you will be at my orders and will help us against the mexicans." He said, removing the delights from both of us in the inside, it was sure that this proposition wasn't going to be fully good for them. "It's an offer that you can't really refuse." He warned them, joining his hands together.

"So, I become an deputy but we're working unofficialy for you ?" Bell suggested the idea about the situation to the mayor and he nodded.

"Exactly...so, what do you think ?" He asked both of them, causing the two to look at each other, unsure of what they could say to Adler in response, it was an risky thing to do and like he said to them, they couldn't really refuse it, knowing that bad things can happen in any occasions if they both refuse.

"Well....I'm okay with it." Azoulay responded, giving his approval as Bell nodded, joining him in his thought, giving Adler what he wanted : the two under his control.

"Good choice." He proclaimed, an smile on his face as he got up from his chair wanting to shake hands with the two and they did even if the two weren't pleased in fact by that. "To celebrate that, why don't you join for dinner ? I'm inviting you both." He proposed and the two, knowing they can't refuse again, nodded. "Good, let's go eat." He ordered to follow them outside, leading the way to the dinner room.

They couldn't know in what shit did they just put themselves to and it was too late to back down but for them, they both knew that he was now controlling them fully by reinstating Azoulay as an real sheriff and miss Bell as his deputy, they were now working with him and nothing else. They followed him to the dinner room where in fact, they weren't going to eat only the three of them : there were also miss Park and his lieutenant Hudson.

The dinner was prepared by maids that was in fact, wives of some of Adler's mens and during all the dinner, it was likely small conversations and those who were making it was mostly Hudson, Adler & Azoulay despite the animosity between the gang of the sheriff. It was really weird for him to have an perfect & normal discussion with Adler & Hudson without raising the voice and Bell....she wasn't the one to spoke up during the whole dinner, mixed between staying behind but also....she was trying to avoid miss Park at sight....without avail.

She was still having that picture in her head : reliving that kiss she was given by miss Park on the cheek in that alley and it was really strange for her to be honest. She couldn't know how she needed to feel about this, even the sheriff tried to put senses on her, saying that was just an thankful kiss for having saving her but it did put an lot of questions in Bell's mind. Was it love ? No....Bell....she wasn't the one to feel something like this in her life but....she couldn't know what to think....

When the dinner ended, Bell didn't even moved her lips to make an word go out of her mouth during the whole dinner, letting the conversation to the sheriff, still juggling by her own questions in head and the strange dinner she was having with Adler. Hudson was already out of the table, going back to the entrance, leaving only the sheriff, miss Park, Bell & Adler in the dinner room for discussions.

"So, miss Bell, you're pretty silent !" Adler remarked to her, breaking her out of her thoughts at where she was sit....it's true that her discretion was seen from the start of dinner for him.

"Uhm...yeah." She muttered, looking back at him in an quick move, still scared to have someone talk to her like that.

"I've been wondering about the origins of your name : Bell." He started, holding his head with his left hand, his arm on the chair armrest as everyone was looking at Bell. "Tell me, where did it come from ?" He asked directly, very curious, an question also floating in his mind.

"My former name was stolen." She replied in the second to him, more fast than she could draw out her own guns as everyone was listening, including miss Park. "I never lived with an real name for an large part of my life because someone stole it." She added, taking an quick look to Adler before her eyes drifted to look for an second to miss Park and then, down. "So, I made Bell my name."

"Who stole it, miss Bell ?" Miss Park demanded, really worried about the woman at an few steps from her.

"I don't know to be honest." Bell responded in an low voice. "I hope that I can found that person soon." She affirmed, passing her hands through her redhead hair.

"And maybe, we can help you with that." Adler proposed his help, causing Bell to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"Why not ?" She grinned at him, putting her hands on her lap to hear that he will maybe help her....that's maybe an first in her life to hear that someone was going to help her with that subject. "But that's not the subject here."

"You're right, miss Bell." Azoulay admitted as he saw that this subject wasn't pleasant to talk before he made an cough, covering his mouth with his hands.

"I know and you're right." Adler reassured both of them, an gesture of his hand, also seeing that Bell didn't want to talk more about it. "The most important here now is what you will do soon." He continued, getting looked by everyone in the room. "We have an job to do !" He spoke up, reaffirmed his will but....that phrase....it seems to have provoke something inside of Bell...feeling suddenly dizzy and not well, at the verge of passing out.

"You're alright, miss Bell ?" Park asked as she was the first one to see that declining state of Bell.

"No..." Bell breathed, looking down at her feets, trying to get better but nothing was going to help her here. "I'm sorry but I have to go." She told to everyone, going up of her chair rapidly and walking to get out of the room, not wanting to stay here any seconds now, everyone worried and confused about what was happening. She walked back to the entrance of the house, seeing Hudson near an table where her guns were.

"Did he asked you that you can leave ?" Hudson demanded in an harsh tone but she didn't respond, taking quickly her guns back in her holstlers.

"No but I'm leaving, I'm not well." She answered without lying, finishing to put back her Colt Single Action Army into its holstler before stepping out of the house, no one actually wanting to stop her.

She knew that she couldn't only step outside and coming back, she needed to go back to her room rapidly before she pass out in front of everyone. The guards at the portal let her pass, not wondering that she wasn't allowed to leave until Adler ordered her & the sheriff too but no one wouldn't do an thing actually. Everyone knew of what she could do if they go in her path....someone did know that well an day earlier.

Her walk...it was really fast but her vision was troubling her along the way, urging her to walk faster. She wasn't feeling well at all, hearing that phrase in her ears that was like ringing like proper bells, she wasn't controlling it and no one couldn't controlling it, she needed to rest. She entered the hotel room after walking in the middle of the main road, not even taking an moment to salute the rude receptionist and she entered her hotel room, closed the door behind her before falling hardly on her bed, breathing heavily and sweating on her face, she wasn't well....

Something was wrong with that phrase and her state showed it well !

#cod bocw #cod cold war #cod black ops cold war #cod cw #call of duty cold war #cod bell #cod fic #western au #fem!bell #helen park

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renzu-valra · 3 years ago

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Prompt #15: Thunderous

Character: Marik Lucullus ♦ Region: Doma ♦ Time: 26 Years Ago Hosted by: @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

Like a false god striking revelation upon the world, Takenaka came to him in the dark of a tumultuous storm with a request he laboured to refuse. The Raen was drenched in cold rain, and panting heat. It wasn’t like the man to show up without warning, let alone in the dead of the night.

At first, he thought himself delirious what with being woken up mid-sleep, but no, the man meant every word. “I need you to take her.” Takenaka begged initially the moment he fell in through his door. His clothes were covered in muck, and it was clear he had seen better days. Whatever made him drag his miserable self through the thick rain must’ve been serious.

He had come alone, so whoever this ‘her’ person he spoke of, he hadn’t the slightest. Not until he had Takenaka seated on his couch with a towel around him to dry his head and prevent a cold. Not until Marik too had begun to wake from his crudely disturbed slumber.

Her.

His unborn child. Without a doubt, that must be what he meant.

When they weren’t discussing strategy, Takenaka was raving about how well his wife was coming along. Even though she’d only just begun showing. The Raen was a man of few words, but those he spoke were hard to misinterpret. At least, to those who knew him as well as Marik did.

Takenaka Matsugen had a justifiable want to forsake his country—hence why he sided with the Empire’s ideals instead of those he pledged himself to. However, he put his family above all else. He had wanted to give them all a good life far from this wretched place, but something unexpected was now forcing his hand.

Whilst Marik himself likely could’ve taken them all in, his wife and his other kid, they wouldn’t have much freedom in that world as refuges. If he only took the newborn, he’d at least be able to pretend she was his in all rights—even if that would imply he slept with a savage. She’d have a future. That’s what Takenaka was hoping for by coming to him.

No, the real issue was why the man came to him in such a precarious, untimely manner. It meant he had no time left.

“So you’re not going to run?” Marik said with his arms crossed as Takenaka dried himself off.

“My son will see me as a coward.”

He would either way. Is what he wanted to say, but Marik knew the man to be prideful, if nothing else. Even though Takenaka wished to be rid of his country, he could not forfeit the culture which had been imposed on him. Maybe he thought his boy would take something good away from it…or that in so ‘honouring’ his would-be punishment, his family would be spared in turn.

In truth, if he wanted to protect his family, this would be the only way to do it. They had yet to win anything, and thus he would earn no title back in Garlemald…and taking his pregnant wife and fleeing without a plan would come with great risks.

“Have you told your wife?”

What luck would he have in taking her newborn babe away from her without prior talks with her husband? He couldn’t deter the man himself in his cause, but he found himself deliberating the expenses. What debt did he owe to Takenaka save their friendship? None, however…

“Naizuno…”

Marik turned his attention towards Takenaka at that. “Really now?” With a shake of his head, Marik took a seat opposite his friend and planted his face in his hands. He truly was resolved to die. And hearing the name of his unborn daughter affirmed that in Marik’s mind. It wasn’t as if he had a choice in the matter whatsoever. To know his friend was going off to his death…and to grant his final request…what choice did he have? Refuse, and see Takenaka off full of regret? Or accept, and be responsible for caring for a child that wasn’t even his?

It wasn’t like he wanted kids anyhow. He’d likely hire a nanny and be done with it. Surely Takenaka knew this. But again, it wasn’t as if he had much of a choice either. He only came to Marik because he knew he’d say yes.

“Yes, fine, I’ll take her and only her.” He relented against his better judgement. If Takenaka was to go without reward for all he did for their cause, he’d live with that burden forever.

Suddenly though, he’d feel a crushing weight pull him from himself as the Raen thought to thank him with a hard hug. Normally, he’d push the man off, but tonight…he’d let him do as he pleased without reprimand. This would be the last time they ever saw each other again. And if he had already said his goodbyes to his wife, then it would be the last physical connection he’d have with another person before he left this world for good.

“Thank you, thank you…”

With a thundering rally of noise, Marik said his own farewells one last time.

#ffxivwrite2021 #FFXIV #ffxiv rp

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ms-march · 4 years ago

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If With Me You'd Fondly Stay

Hello!! So I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted a proper chapter but in exchange may I offer you a little John and Adrienne scene I wrote for her birthday!! Today is her birthday so this is one of the two pieces I’m posting today!! Both are John and Adrienne but one is very sweet and the other is very not, so enjoy!

It was mornings like this one that reminded him why he cared so much for her.

She looked gorgeous in the mornings.

She looked gorgeous this morning.

It was mornings like this that reminded him of their wedding day.

That early morning ceremony, away from the large crowd that had gathered at the manor, had been eye-opening for him.

He had forgotten how to breathe when he saw her.

He had forgotten he needed to breathe when he saw her.

She looked gorgeous.

But John Laurens had been cursed.

He should have been able to cherish her the way he knew she so deserved. He should have been able to love her the way he so wanted to. He should have been able to love her.

But John Laurens had been born cursed.

John Laurens could not love her. He could not love any “her” even if he wanted to. He wanted so desperately to be normal. He wanted so desperately to have been born normal. He wanted so desperately to love her.

It was not fair. Not from him.

Not to her.

She had not asked for this— well, she had asked for this very moment, but that was not what he was talking about at the moment. She had not asked to be married to him. To be married to a man who could never love her.

It was cruel.

And he knew it was.

But John Laurens had been born cursed.

And he wanted so desperately to love her. And perhaps in this very moment, he did.

She was gorgeous this morning.

She took his breath away.

He never realized just how much blue was in her room.

There were light blue silk brocade chairs, a blue painted fireplace, and lots of this blue and white chintz fabric. If he recalled correctly, it could be labeled as a toile de jour pattern.

Her sheets matched the wallpaper, and the silk bed curtains matched the blue trim around the walls. The curtains match the chairs, and thick gold threaded chords held their middle to drape them delicately across the windows, allowing the morning sunlight to stream through their stately frames.

Someone had been in the room.

Someone had been in the room, but they had not disturbed them.

Good.

John’s attention was drawn from his close analysis of her bedroom by a small sound and the rustling of sheets. She was stirring.

He could not tell if she was waking up or trying to return to sleep, shifting her face on his chest.

She was snuggling into him.

She was at peace.

He had done his job.

She clung to him, gripping his waistcoat as though he would disappear, and whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes still full of fear.

“Stay”

And so he had.

He stayed, and now, here he was, with her wrapped in his arms, nuzzling into his chest and cuddled against him under the fluffy sheets.

She was gorgeous.

He had never realized just how lovely she looked in the sunlight.

He could not help but stare, running his fingers across her blonde locks as his heart picked up speed. He might just love her.

He was not sure how, but he knew he did.

It was not the same thing he felt with his Alexander, it would never be, but it was more of a limbo just off from what he felt for his siblings. He could look at her now and see his wife. The mother of his son. He no longer looked at her and saw his sister, Martha.

Perhaps he did truly love her. Not the way he should. Not the way that was normal for a man and woman. But perhaps he loved her like this.

Perhaps he loved her like a sleepy morning. Wrapped in his arms and laying on his chest. Perhaps this is how he could love her.

Last night he had chosen to sleep towards the door to shield her. To protect her. This morning he was grateful for the choice. The full wall of windows shone warm sunlight on her face, making her skin radiant and dewy in the mid-morning light. He was glad she was sleeping.

He would not know how to handle the situation were she not so tired.

He would not wake her, but he could not help from gently moving the hair from her face. And her cheeks were far too soft for him not to caress them with the pads of his fingers.

He was staring.

Was he smiling?

He was smiling.

He was smiling at her.

She was stirring on his chest.

“John?”

She had to repeat herself once more before he remembered that she was waking up. Before he remembered, she was stirring in his arms.

He hummed in acknowledgment of her question, unable to stop smiling at her.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course I am.”

He cared for her. Perhaps he even loved her. Perhaps that is why he had acted the way he had last night. Perhaps he cared for her because he loved her. Perhaps that is why the image of pure terror on her face won’t leave his mind.

It only left him when he saw her like this.

He may not love her as he should. That would never happen. Not with him. But he could love her like this. He could love her like a sleepy morning.

He could be content with this kind of love.

But could she?

“You are thinking.”

He hummed in affirmation, fingers sliding through her soft locks mindlessly. Staring.

“Perhaps I am.”

“If you were— thinking, I mean— what would it be about?”

“You.”

It was the truth.

It was the truth, but he couldn’t recall the last time he had been so honest with her.

He had said it unthinkingly.

He had meant it.

She giggled.

She had giggled— not laughed, actually giggled— at him. It sounded heavenly, little bells chiming in the tones of her voice as the sweet laughter passed her lips.

He wanted her to do it again.

“And what about me is so entrancing this morning?”

He shrugged his shoulders, trying his best not to move her from his chest.

“How does everything sound?”

“Everything?”

She was surprised. She had tried to prop herself up on her elbows, but his arms tightened around her just before she could, pulling a playful huff and that adorable smile to her face.

It was the smile she gave before making a witty remark. Usually at his expense. He didn’t mind, however. He rather looked forward to seeing that charming little smile across her lips. That was what he adored about her the most. Her wit. Her humor. Her brilliant brain. He adored all of it.

Perhaps more than a normal husband ought to.

He had never fit the definition of “normal.”

“Careful, John Laurens. Or else people will begin to think you love your wife.”

That was what he loved about her the most.

She took all of his stumbles and made them into confident strides.

She took all of his frowns and turned them to smiles, no matter how stubbornly he tried to remain upset or angry.

He was smiling.

He was smiling at her.

He was smiling at her as she smiled cheekily up at him from her perch against his chest. She was witty, and funny, and brilliant.

She was brilliant, and he adored all of it.

So he smiled at her, wrapped tight in his arms, cheekily beaming up at him from her own witty jab.

Perhaps he loved her.

“I don’t mind that.”

She was still smiling at him, but it had softened, as had her eyes.

It was the truth.

He might just love her.

Not the way he ought to.

He could never love her like Alexander.

But he just might love her.

And she was ok with that, lowering her head back against the linen of his sleep shirt with that same soft grin on her lips.

She did not have to love him. He did not know if she could find it in herself to love him. Not after the way he had behaved. But she was safe, cared for, and happy.

She was happy.

And he was ok with that.

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arigatouiris · 5 years ago

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daughter of artemis // p.p — [15]

c h a p t e r f i f t e e n

Pairing: Peter Parker x Demigod! Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; greek mythology rewritten [completely my interpretation of it, oops]; slightly based off the games god of war and assassin’s creed odyssey; hurt/comfort; cliche; fluff; mentions of sex and gore; slight alternate universe

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Word count: 4115

Author’s Note: Thank you so much everyone for writing back to me and telling me you enjoyed this story. It means so much to me, and I cannot tell you how much this story has made everything better for me mental health wise. Thank you, each and every one!

And for those who would want to read more of my work, I’m writing a Bucky x Reader series after this and if you want to be on the taglist for that, just send me an ask!

15 // χαρουμενα happy

❅

“Could you place the plates on the table? Morgan will help.” Pepper grinned, as she pointed to the plates on the kitchen slab.

(y/n) looked almost clueless; she had almost always ordered food, or her uncle brought it home to her. She hadn’t ever worried about placing cutlery on a table and eating together. She knew this was how families usually ate, but even when it was just her mother and her, they’d sit by each other and eat under the stars. A dinner table was new to her.

She had returned from Greece with Peter, as Apollo dropped the kids back at their apartment. He hated seeing how much Peter and (y/n) were clinging to one another, and promised them that the next time they travel, it’d be by flight and the speed of light wasn’t working out well for them. Pepper had welcomed (y/n) back more gloriously than Tony had, who merely just sat and stared like a cat would. She looked at him and wondered if she could smile, but the awkwardness made itself rather clear.

Pepper then announced that they’d eat dinner together, and with (y/n) agreeing on moving in with them, it’d be their first dinner together as a new family. (y/n) was nervous, and wondered if things were moving a bit too fast, but that didn’t matter at the moment. She knew of Tony’s awkwardness, but he had tried; and now it was her turn. Determined to make the first move, (y/n) grabbed four plates before heading to the dinner table. She saw Tony sitting there, quietly, almost as if he were lost in thought, and she gulped.

She placed the plates gingerly on the table, not wanting to interrupt Tony’s deep thinking, and just as she was about to place a plate in front of him, Tony helped her. Letting out a sigh, he stood up, confusing the girl, and looked at her with a pained expression.

“Uh…” She didn’t know what to say.

Just as Tony was about to say something, Morgan and Pepper came in with the food. (y/n) was moved out of her reverie and she turned away, helping Pepper and her younger sister who was paddling along by her feet. Morgan was naughty, this she had guessed from the first time she had met her, but that night, she would learn that her sister was a mastermind.

“Dad keeps talking about you all the time.”

Tony almost choked on his salad. He hated salads, and he normally, even without Morgan’s revelation, would have choked; but this called for a reaction. Pepper grinned to herself and kept quiet, not wanting to interfere. Unlike Tony, she was quite experienced in displaying open modes of affection. It wasn’t as if Tony was not affectionate; with Morgan, his affection was quite natural. It was (y/n), and everything that he wished to know about her that caused the difficulty. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, and he knew that to most people, in their first go, Tony can be quite intimidating. And he certainly didn’t want to cause any sort of mental disturbance to his own daughter.

(y/n) sat next to him on the table, Morgan sitting across from her and Pepper next to Morgan. Dinner was pretty simple, but it was indeed the best dinner (y/n) had the luxury to eat. Pepper asked her about things she liked, Morgan teased her with Peter, which caused something to burn inside Tony’s heart; and the casual aspect of dinner that night was something (y/n) had craved for ever since she set foot in America.

This was what she had in mind when she came looking for Pepper and her father. A family, a family that accepted her, albeit the awkwardness that Tony displayed. She understood him, however, and knew why he was being this way. It was as difficult for him as it was for her, to suddenly meet someone out of the blue and be introduced to them as an immediate member of the family.

Pepper stared at her husband, who was thinking primarily on how to welcome her.

Right after dinner, Tony rushed to wash the dishes, which left the women at the table. (y/n) looked at Pepper and chuckled once, knowing that even if dinner was a bit quiet, it was home.

“He doesn’t know what to say to you.” Pepper said, slowly, making sure not to let Tony hear.

“I know… I don’t either, really. I’ve always wanted to meet him and I always thought I’d have so much to say, but… I’m speechless.”

“Maybe you should say that.” Pepper said, placing a hand on the girl’s own hand.

(y/n) smiled and nodded, turning to where Tony was, and heading over there. Turning to Pepper and Morgan, (y/n) looked almost hesitant, but what she saw was comfort smiling back at her. Morgan raised her hands in a thumbs up and giggled, with Pepper smiling from ear to ear. What (y/n) knew at that second was nothing far from the truth; Pepper and Morgan were family now, and she was already growing to love them. Turning back, she entered the kitchen to find Tony just standing there, by the sink, staring at his gloves.

“Um…” She didn’t know if she was disturbing him or if she was getting in the way of something.

Tony looked at her, almost startled. Walking over to him, she was aware of his eyes on her, as she stood beside him.

“Need any help?” She asked, looking up at him now, his eyes already on her.

“I’ve got this.” He said, frowning.

“Tony?” She said this time, wanting to address the elephant in the room.

Tony was quiet. This wasn’t a moment meant for a sarcastic statement or something funny. Tony had realized that now was when he could address it, and he was slightly thankful for all those other things like her prophecy and whatnot, which kept her occupied, and kept them from speaking about what actually mattered. He took a deep breath and just stood there. The dishes were not getting done.

“I… I’ve never really thought of what I’d say to you when we meet, you know?” Tony looked at her from the side. They were standing next to one another, shoulders touching. “All those years ago, when I first came here, I thought you’d be this warm and welcoming person, who’d just… probably make me forget about Olympus completely. Maybe, someday, and even if this sounds terrible, I wanted to feel better about losing mom—”

“That doesn’t sound terrible. Not one bit. Kid, I’m sorry I wasn’t—”

“No, see, I...“ She gulped, feeling fresh tears in her eyes now. Her hands were resting on the sink’s side, close to Tony’s gloved hands. “I wasn’t being much of a sport there, either… Running away from you and—”

In one quick sweep, Tony pulled the girl into an embrace and held her; he removed his gloves and threw them by the sink before pulling her closer to him, shutting his eyes and just breathing. He could feel his chest hurt, and he felt her shake slightly.

“You’re my kid. You’re my kid. I’ve missed so much of your life already, (y/n). You’re my daughter. The moment I got to know about you, I should have taken you in. I was just scared. I couldn’t believe it, and I didn’t want to. I thought it couldn’t be, especially with everything—”

When her hands wound themselves around him, Tony cried. (y/n) hugged her father back for a solid two minutes, and Tony stood there, taking in everything about her. She was so small in front of him, she was so precious, she was everything that had kept him alive when times didn’t make sense, and he didn’t even know it. Pulling away from her, he wiped the tears off her face and stared at her; his hands on either side of her cheek.

“You’re my kid.” He said, as if affirming it.

(y/n) chuckled and nodded, hugging him once again. She closed her eyes and calmed down, feeling at ease. Tony’s hands held the girl’s, and he noticed how small they were compared to his own. He ruffled her hair and felt it, finding it similar to his own. She had his jawline, she had his eyes. She had his smile.

“God, you’re melting.” She joked, and Tony laughed.

That night, either of them didn’t get too much sleep. She told Tony about her mother, and about everything that she had seen or gone through back in Olympus. They were sitting by the front of their cabin, shoulders touching, Tony playing with his daughter’s hands. He loved her, he loved her like his life depended on it, and if there was ever a choice, or a situation where he had to choose between himself and his daughters, he would gladly sacrifice his life for them.

“What about Parker?” Tony asked, cocking his eyebrow at her.

(y/n) raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. Tony leaned forward and squinted at her, wanting the answer out of her.

“Yeah, so… He was the first person I met when I was teleported here.”

“Parker or Spiderboy?”

(y/n) frowned at her father before muttering, “Spiderman, but yes. Spiderman.”

“And you figured it out over the years that he was in the costume?”

(y/n) shook her head, “Not over the years, but after I met Peter as Peter. I mean, we were talking about Star Wars and I,” she laughed when she remembered this, “I asked Spiderman if he had seen it, and I guess it was his reaction that gave it away.”

Tony scoffed, “Right. When something nerdy’s mentioned, he lets it slip. Some secret.”

(y/n) playfully hit her father’s shoulder. Tony chuckled.

“He’s a good kid. I’m…” He cleared his throat as he continued, “I’m glad it’s him you’re playing tonsil hockey with.”

“Ew!” (y/n) was wide-eyed, scrunching her face at Tony. “How can you even—? That’s disgusting!”

“But, that’s what you two do, so don’t deny it.”

(y/n) was blushing so hard, she tried to cover her face with her hand. As she was groaning, Tony watched her, with a soft smile on his face. He was so glad she was sitting next to him, and if hadn’t ever showed up, he’d have never understood what he was missing.

“You’re crazy, old man.” (y/n) said, still covering her face.

Tony let out a dry chuckle, “Well, this old man cares about you.”

After a brief silence, Tony cried again. It was a simple shedding of tears; an emotional response to a closure. He had wondered what it would feel like when he became a father. Ever since falling in love with Pepper, someone who had invariably changed him inside and out, he had wanted to start a family. He wondered what it would feel like to have his child’s hands in his, the kid’s eyes looking right back at him, smiling and giving him another reason to breathe.

He wondered if it would make him feel full. Full of something.

After that brief silence, just before Tony shed tears that night, he felt that fullness. He felt that fullness when his eldest daughter took his hands in hers and leaned her head on his shoulder. A simple gesture, but it ended with,

“I love you, dad.”

Tony breathed in sharply, and remembered what he shared with her. Their thing, like Morgan’s 3000. Kissing the girl’s head, Tony closed his eyes. He was full of that something, and couldn’t possibly wish for anything more.

“I love you, moonchild.”

❅

MJ hated hugs, but for (y/n), she made an exception. When she saw the girl walk into the classroom that morning, MJ stood up on her own and approached the demigod. Hugging the girl like her life depended on it, MJ didn’t realize that she had widened her eyes.

“Oh my god!” MJ whisper yelled, shutting her eyes.

(y/n) held her back and chuckled, “Let’s not worry about gods anymore,”

Pulling away, MJ grinned at the girl.

“I’m serious, I’m really done with that life now. Let’s finish school here and do something normal.”

“What about that dagger? Still have it?”

(y/n) grinned, “Nope. It’s with mum now.”

MJ smiled, placing a loving hand on the girl’s shoulder. Nodding once, they retreated back to their desks, feeling warm.

“Apparently, we have a new English teacher. Girls in class are devastated.” MJ said, scoffing.

“Yeah, uncle had to head back. Godly duties.” (y/n) frowned a bit.

“Right. So normal.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. A moment later, she noticed Peter and Ned walk inside class, and her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t tell MJ yet that Peter was there with her in Greece, after everything was done. Peter gave (y/n) a look before smiling and waving shyly, causing the girl to chuckle.

“Why’s he acting like that?” MJ asked, frowning.

“It’s cute.”

“Ew.”

Sometimes, she worried about Zeus returning. However, the prayer she had made to Hera told her that things would be okay. Hera, she understood, was a terrible person. Terrible because she was filled with jealousy, anger and everything that made her rude to everyone around her. However, as a goddess and a Queen, there was no one like her. And when someone prayed to Hera, (y/n) understood, they were protected.

Please keep my family safe, she had prayed, intently meaning every word.

After school, (y/n) approached Peter, who seemed like he was in a hurry. Folding her arms in front of her boyfriend, she narrowed her eyes before wondering if he had even asked her out in the first place.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, blinking.

She pressed her lips together before saying, “What are we, Peter Parker?”

Peter’s eyes widened before his hand shot up to his mouth in surprise.

“I—I was meaning to, but w-with everything that h-had happened, I just—”

“Relax,” She leaned forward and kissed the boy’s nose. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Peter relaxed at her words, and his hands flew to her side. He looked at her lovingly for a moment before pulling back, causing the girl to chuckle.

“Let me guess, Stark Internship?”

Peter shrugged before kissing her squarely on the lips and running off.

“I’ll see you later tonight!” He yelled before rushing out of school.

That evening, she was meant to take her things from her old apartment into Stark’s cabin. She was still getting used to things, with her now openly calling Tony as ‘dad’ and Pepper as ‘mum’. It was harder to call Pepper ‘mum’, but perhaps it was because it was Pepper that she made it easier just a bit. There was no force, there was no hurry. Pepper told her to ease it in, if she wanted to, and the choice that she was given made all the difference.

When she entered her apartment, she noticed all her things were already in boxes. Her eyes were wide, as she entered the flat and looked around. Standing by the entrance to her room was her uncle, wearing nothing but an orange tank and brown cargo pants.

“Uncle?”

Apollo turned to her and shrugged.

“A godly favor.” He said, causing her to roll her eyes.

She walked over to her uncle and hugged him, causing the god to hold her back. Pulling away, she turned to her things and stared.

“So this is it.”

Apollo nodded, “It was strange. I always knew I’d get along with you eventually, but this was…”

“The way it happened was weird.” She said, laughing.

Apollo chuckled before turning to the girl, “Peter Parker is a good boy. I always knew it, and maybe that’s why the vision came forward in the first place.”

(y/n)’s eyes widened as she turned to her uncle with shock, “You made me see that vision?”

Apollo scoffed, “I am an oracular god. I thought the visions would help you. I didn’t know what they are before I made you see them.”

(y/n) chuckled. “Wow. So you can think beforehand. That was… that was quite smart, uncle. Hestia is indeed missing out.”

Apollo’s eyes widened, “How did you—”

“How did I know Hestia turned you down? Come on, uncle. Everyone knows that.”

Apollo’s face reddened before he turned away.

“Despite everything,” She was playing with her fingers now. “Despite me thinking you hated me, and how we came this far, I… I want to tell you that you were like a dad to me.”

Apollo blinked. “(y/n)—”

“And you will always be the best dad ever.” (y/n) said, grinning.

Apollo’s eyes filled with tears, and in hindsight, three or four more large clouds formed in the sky. It wasn’t Apollo’s doing, just sometimes, he had no control over how his emotions affected the atmosphere.

“Don’t make Stark feel bad now…” Apollo said, blinking away his tears.

(y/n) giggled, “He’ll have his chances, but he’s certainly got a lot to live up to.”

A second later, “Uncle, are you crying?”

“Clear this apartment, you stupid child.”

❅

The last person Natasha Romanoff was expecting that evening to turn up at her little flat was (y/n). No one, not even Stark knew where she lived, so this was a bit of a shocker. Smirking, the red haired woman let the girl in, before shutting the door behind her.

“How did you—”

“Followed you last night, you like coffee from that one store near 9th street.” (y/n) said, folding her arms.

“Your skills have gotten better. How’s Tony taking you?”

“I really didn’t think he’d cry.”

Natasha chuckled.

“Nat,” The woman looked up at the sudden mention of her name, “I want to begin where we left off.”

Nat cocked her eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

The girl shrugged. Sparring with Black Widow made sense to her back then because there was a purpose. However, it was something that (y/n) looked forward to on most days. Natasha was a great teacher because she wasn’t too soft, and she wasn’t too brittle; she was the right balance of experience and skill, showing the girl what she had to know. Ultimately, later on, it had become something out of a want than for her purpose.

She missed it, basically.

“The sparring. I just… Now that I really don’t have to worry about it, it doesn’t mean I have to forget it, right? I had fun.”

Almost expecting Natasha to say the same thing, (y/n) eased when Nat smirked.

“Yeah, it was. When do you want to start?”

“Right now, if you’re up for it.”

❅

That morning, (y/n) felt nervous as she walked into class. She saw Peter and Ned already in there, who were looking at her oddly for being late. There was a reason for it, and the reason was something she didn’t even tell Peter or MJ; it was something she wanted them to find out on their own, a sort of surprise.

She sat down at her desk and noticed Peter’s confused expression. Winking at him, she eased his worry instantly before the homeroom teacher walked in.

“We have quite an announcement to make,” She said, her eyes wide. Clearing her throat, “Mr. Stark walked in this morning with a story to share. Turns out, he’s had a daughter all along. An illegitimate daughter.”

The class erupted in murmurs and Peter understood what was going on. MJ had no clue that Tony Stark was her father, but now she did. Turning to her friend, she mocked an expression of betrayal, which soon was taken over by an expression of elation.

“The paperwork was done yesterday, so the announcement was due today. Welcome, (y/n) Stark.”

She felt her heart explode at the way her classmates cheered, both in shock and wonder; pure joy because she was related to the man who had brought everyone else back. Peter stared at her lovingly, slightly intimidated that she was Mr. Stark’s daughter, but that didn’t matter.

His eyes told her he loved her at that second, and her smile said it back.

After school, Peter and (y/n) walked out hand in hand, only to see Happy waiting by, waving at her when she exited the gates. She paused, before turning to Peter, who merely chuckled once. He leaned into her ear and said, “Get used to it.”

She turned to him and groaned.

“Please, I can come by myself—”

“Tony’s not gonna have that, kid.” Happy said, smirking.

Sitting inside the car, she felt at ease. Actual happiness always looked meagre in front of every bit of sorrow she had gone through in the past. And, of course, stability isn't nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand.

But, the second she got home, and saw Morgan running to her, Pepper and Tony on the couch, she wondered if grand was something worth fighting for. It was a simple image, them doing their thing and Morgan welcoming her. Tony’s eyes followed his youngest daughter and landed on (y/n), before his eyes warmed at the sight of her. Pepper looked up and waved, before ushering her to come sit by her.

She realized that grand wasn’t the pinnacle of any fight at all.

It was this. This simple and meagre result of a thousand fights. It was worth everything.

And she would find them; time after time.

❅

She had never gotten the chance to listen to the whole song because the last time, her father had interrupted Peter and (y/n) while they were listening to it. She played the song in her new phone, and sat there, humming along. It was right after dinnertime, when she had said her goodnights and had come back into her room to end the day.

She knew there was nothing stopping her now. However, just as she pressed play, she heard a knock on her window. Her eyes widened when she saw Spiderman there, waving at her. Sighing, she got up and opened the window, and letting him inside, as Peter took off his mask.

He held her and kissed her squarely on the lips, as her hands flew to his face. She kissed him back, having missed the feeling of his lips against hers, and relished how natural it felt to be in his arms. As Peter pulled away, he looked at her before muttering ten or twenty ‘I love you’s to her, as if he had never said it before.

“I love you, too, Peter Parker.”

“(y/n), will you be my girlfriend?”

She mocked him by pretending to think, causing Peter to grab her hips and pull her tightly against him. Giggling, she nodded.

“Yes, yes! I will.”

“I love you, (y/n). And each time I swing by New York and I see the moon, I see you. I see the sun, I see you. Casually, you’ve replaced almost everything there is around me, and I think of you. I love you.”

Her heart warmed at his confession. “I love you, Peter Parker. Ever since you saved my life five years ago to now. I love you.”

Moving forward, she kissed him on the lips before closing her eyes. Right then, he was oxygen and she was dying to breathe. The touch of his lips on hers was featherlight, tentative, uncertain. She closed her eyes as the kiss sent a thrill through her body, until it felt like her hair was standing on end, like her whole body was a live wire, humming with electricity. (y/n) felt his lips travel from her forehead, whispering something against her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose. His thumbs stroked the length of her jaw, but even they stilled as she pulled back and turned to look at him.

“I love you, daughter of Artemis, girlfriend of Spiderman.” He said, and the rest was history.

“Dad, Spiderman’s here!” Morgan’s voice suddenly sounded, and the two teenagers’ eyes widened with fright.

They turned to the door and spotted Morgan there, waving at them. Peter, right before he puts his mask on and rushed out of the window, kissed his girlfriend for the last time that night, just as they heard Tony’s voice.

“Parker! You better not be smooching my daughter!”

❅

series taglist:

Those I could not tag, I’ve added your urls here!

@maddie-laufeyson, @mscoloneldanvers, @https://dancing-flame.tumblr.com, @daughter-of-stark, @spider-mendes, @nerdyandproudofitsstuff, @someonekeepstakingmyusernames, @alina-margaret, @yourwonderbelle, @viarogers, @https://huangsushii.tumblr.com, @eridanuswave @oliviaisnotlistening @mizpotatobiscuits @editsbyjenny @abbieroseb @justtrynagetthroughlife @secretlittlewonders @missmulti @shallowshawnshallowshawn.tumblr.com @eunoiametonia @adistiany @justletmesleeptillidie @ppunderoos @myheartonthemove @heir2chaos @honeybutterparker @truthdaze @mvmakki @-thatgirloverthere-@growingthornz @freddies-fried-chicken @jinxedleohttps://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/wrongyuckie @gogoca @kewl-r @death-by-viola @losersunitetonight @hungoverhellhound @ro2424 @https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/blackkookiebunn @absmiles123 @fxckingfat @ludwigvonbaethoven @xbabykookiix @madds-lolo @uwukinawa @sunflowernightss @diamonddia-mond @5knee @imsuperawkward @smileyishere92 @awkward-youtube-trash @spiderbabyx @theshortegg @samthesnoop @kaithezaftig @kissingg-incars @miamua-posts @jaayypasta @kimjeon7 @booksarebae2000 @tanya-diggory

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webcricket · 5 years ago

Text

Winter’s Eye

Pairing: AU!CastielXReader Word Count: 1803 (Ch. II) Summary: Season 13 canon tells you how AU!Castiel’s story ends, this is how it begins. The deranged and damaged iteration of Castiel we met in the apocalypse universe - an obedient soldier to Michael’s cause barely in control of his vessel’s frayed and erratically firing nerves whose inherent kindness toward humankind appeared entirely obliterated - wasn’t always an unfeeling angelic weapon of interrogation. Once, he sympathized with the plight of humans; one, he loved. A/N: Multi-chapter origin and love story. No happy ending here, folks; just a bittersweet illustration of an angel’s devotion and the sacrificial ends he pursues to protect the object of his affection. New chapters post on Mondays.

Series Masterlist

II.

Illumined by a flickering glow, frost curtains the corners of the cabin’s paned windows as sheets of snow continue to envelope the world without. A fire crackles in the wood stove; the cast iron door yawns to reveal a burning bedlam of deep orange and silvery embers forfeiting their fervor of warmth to temper the chill from the single room.

The fury of light silhouettes two figures stationed directly before it; the one, insensate with cold and settled on an overstuffed leather chair, houses a soul lately saved, the other, operating on righteous instinct, a being in a body borrowed.

The latter leans in constant worried motion over his unconscious ward. He loosens the layers of damp clothing, consigning a coat no longer equipped in its damp state to insulate to the floor beside already discarded boots; the melt of caked-snow clinging to the laces and heels coalesces into a shimmering pool on the broad pine planks.

Still dissatisfied by the sluggish return of consciousness, he rubs and rearranges the lax limbs repeatedly to restore circulation. His unrelenting efforts find rapid reward in a spasm of shuttered eyelid and the initiation of a bodily shiver suggesting the brain of the afflicted has thawed enough to rejoin the struggle for survival.

Tapping a finger to the rewarmed temple, his irises refract an internally rising radiance of blue; the otherwise unseen glory gifted him by heaven hurries to confirm the signs of recovery. Evidently pacified with the direction of progress given the small sigh of relief passing his lips, he ceases fussing to slide the chair in closer proximity to the blaze; stoking and feeding the fire, he steps back, content for the moment to watch the unfolding symptoms of revival.

The breath of both flame and rekindling life further thicken the frosty condensation on the window’s glass from within as he waits.

Castiel’s concerned blues occasion, after some minutes observing the sameness of your state, to lift from you in order to sweep over the shadow-obscured stacked log walls; in them and, too, a roof sound enough to keep out the blasting wind, he notes something of greater consequence than he felt hereto before when tarrying there - something consoling; a something verging on comfort.

The only variable altered is that of his not being alone – an amendment to his exile he finds not at all unpleasant; and one which - as regards comfort at least - watery sheen of blues dipping again to you, he wonders whether you will feel equal easement in upon waking.

In the firelight your features flush as blood steadily surges to sooth ice-nipped skin; he is struck once again by the delicacy of peace predominant in your expression despite the subtleties of pain weathering pale pink lips and stamping a sallowness into the hollows beneath your lowered lashes. The natural advantage of beauty he appreciates as affecting your particular aspect, much like those wonders of his Father’s creation once resplendent in a now desolated world for which he held the highest esteem allowed an angelic creature supposedly steeped in inherent apathy, appears no less diminished given what you must have endured before stumbling into these woods.

A series of restless moans murmuring on your lips, you squirm in shallow slumber in search of some unknown solace which seems to elude you.

Trance broken, giving you space, instinctively he shifts backward and stills to stone. He hasn’t yet considered what he’ll say – hasn’t fully fathomed how to handle the consequence of confusion sure to follow fast upon your rousing, nor how to allay the fear certain to be aroused in the requisite explanations offered of how you came to be here and what he is.

A compassionate heart guided by an innate sense for what is right, and the selfish potential - in the soldierly sense, of course, of once more having order and purpose to the passage of time - for the immediate improvement of his own dejected condition to be provided by your company, fix him to the spot.

A moment passes; then another. You do not wake.

A spark of cinder bursts forth, bounces, and sputters in the drips of wet gathered round your socked feet; his notice veers from you to follow the extinguishing complaints of the slag until it is no more than a fleck of gray ash and a withering of smoke.

“Hi.” Your throat, raw from long exposure to cold air, cracks out the faintest of greetings.

Blues flick to meet your blearily blinking gaze. Caught off guard, he states the obvious. “You’re awake.”

“No, I’m Y/N.” Woozy, weak, and uncertain of where you are or who he is, you default to wit such that you might start by assembling the strewn vestiges of it now returning to you.

His gaze narrows; after a second of deeply furrowed contemplation of your curious response to his observation, the crease of his brow eases in realization of the verbal play. “Ah, I’m Castiel.”

Stranger with a strange name, you think, and, a stranger accent.

Straightening from a slouch to obtain a better vantage on your whereabouts, half-expecting some indication to present itself you’ve been transported to Europe, you chance a cursory glance at the surroundings; your best guess: You’ve simply been deposited in a hunting cabin replete with a requisite decapitated White-tailed deer – a vacantly staring specimen sans four legs and anything else below the neck - mounted on a plaque to one wall. Despite the deer’s dead stare, it’s better than the last place you remember being which is riverside freezing to death under the similarly impassive survey of an oak.

In your periphery, a well-aimed lurch of two, maybe two and half feet from the cozy confines of the chair, your eyes glint on a brass fire poker laid against the stove. You have no idea who this guy is; not that you aren’t grateful, but you’re keeping your options open.

“Castiel,” you repeat, regard roaming over his distinctly regimental attire and the squared stance ingrained by association as that of a soldier standing at attention. “I think I owe you a thank you.”

Dropping his gaze in a gallant gesture of humility suggesting saving you was a mere trifle, he bows his head.

The civility of his manner instantly eases your wariness. In its place, you feel the overwhelming urge to fill the silence and elucidate how you came to be in the predicament of wanting rescue. “Damned stupid to dare that river crossing in a storm. I could hear the ice cracking, but I also heard a squad of angels coming in close behind me. Not much of a choice, you know?”

His eyes rise to yours – you discern the tranquility of their color markedly disturbed by the mention of angels. This reaction fortifies your impression of him as friend, not foe. Slightly relaxing caution, you lean forward to fold your palms together before stove.

The strong line of his jaw sets, stalling in choice of just the right words to answer to your story without creating alarm. Coughing to clear the gravel from the lower register of his voice, he calmly utters them a second or two before you become aware of the delay. “There are no angels on that side of the river.” In review, it occurs to him it would’ve been wiser not to stress any one part of the statement above another.

“Oh.” You swallow the syllable; embarrassment blossoms on your cheeks as the enormity of the damned stupid sinks in and the reality of the damned lucky surfaces.

You duck your chin and redirect, hoping perhaps along with his knowledge of where angels aren’t, he also knows something of the refugee encampment you were looking for. “Are you with the resistance?”

The disquiet unsettling his blues and agitating the minute musculature of his jawline wends down his spine to work inflexible mischief into his shoulders. He’s glad you failed to latch onto the ill-spoken that, less glad the interview persists in being directed upon himself.

Unpracticed talking to people – skills of conversing rusty as a result of many months of isolation – he grapples inwardly to determine how to change the subject; outwardly, he clasps his hands behind his back to preserve composure.

Evading causing you discomfiture by further delay in speaking, he replies, “In a manner of speaking.”

Although superficially affirmative, the awkward avoidance of an explicatory answer should excite your alertness; it doesn’t. The strangely alluring accent he’s in possession of implies he’s a visitor from foreign lands; wherever he’s from, perhaps the resistance is called something entirely different, like, for example, the opposition.

The cohesive framework of international news, or news of any shape beyond word of mouth and unfounded rumor (which, strictly speaking, is not so different from when international news stood strong), ceased to exist the day angels dive-bombed the planet. Whomever he’s with, his answer signifies a sympathetic attachment to the resistance, and that’s good enough for you.

“You’re military then?” you ask, utterly naïve in your progress toward the horrifying truth.

“Yes.”

If angels prayed, he’d pray - for your sake - you end your inquiry there. You were willing to risk hypothermia or worse to escape angels you only imagined were trailing you; there’s no guessing what you’ll do when you discover yourself occupying a room with one.

Short of hastily vacating the cabin without any clear rationalization of why he is running out into a squall, he’s at a total loss as to how to stop you; he ignores the gust of wind just then temptingly rattling the door.

Surrendering to the security represented in his confirmed status as a soldier – whereby, in so far as you understand, a soldier universally being a shield to defend against wrong, thus makes him worthy of your confidence – and suddenly aware of a recommenced shivering as the strength of the fire wanes, you stretch your fingers toward a blanket draped out of reach on a footstool.

Casually – fatally, to your carelessly formed faith in his goodness given the little you know - you prod further. “So … what army?”

He stoops to retrieve the blanket for you and encounters, in a separation of only inches, your unsuspecting and thankful look as you offer him a diminutive but delightful smile in exchange for the chivalrously proffered fringed edge of fabric.

You peer expectantly into his blues, ready to learn which leg of European power has crossed the sea to help stand humanity’s ground here in the states; peering back at you, veracity gleams brightly beneath a widened ledge of lashes begging pardon for what he is about to say.

Your rapt attention diverts to his lips moving in articulation of an answer that steals your breath and stops your heart.

“God’s army.”

Next Chapter: III

#castiel x you #au!castiel x reader #castiel x reader #spn x reader #reader x castiel #au!castiel #you x castiel #castielxreader #castielxyou #castiel fanfic #spn fanfic #castiel reader insert #castiel imagine #castiel fanfiction #castiel #cricket writes cas

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whatwashernameagain · 6 years ago

Text

Keep him safe - Chapter 25

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Previous Chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, Fantasy AU You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 8.095

Warnings: violence marked with ///////////////////////, sexual abuse marked with +++++++, blood, insults, self-hate, bad expectations of relationships, mentioned unhealthy weight loss, body insecurity

Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness. Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: I have nothing to say for myself. My betas @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 and @hanramz-the-fander are the best, I love all of you, please take care of yourself! And check out the art at the end of the chapter!

Chapter 25

A thunderous crash following a whoop of joy penetrated the peacefulness of the isolated office. Both Logan and Captain Holt ignored the sound with the stoic determination of men used to the shenanigans of Jake Peralta and Roman Prince respectively.

The aforementioned detective had survived a near encounter with a stray bullet that had (barely) grazed his ‘beautiful face’ and had therefore immediately enlisted both Roman and Gina to throw him a party fit for the miracle of his survival and his general good looks and heroism. Roman had instantly thrown himself into organizing a play fit for the epic tale and had begun roping in officers too slow to escape his enthusiasm. The young man who had been swooning over him the last few days had been delegated to raiding the lost-and-found box for costumes. Logan estimated that their Captain would permit them another 48 minutes of frivolous displays before returning the precinct to its proper state of professionalism, barring a certain margin of error in case the fire extinguisher should make an appearance once again of course. Roman had been drawing up rather disturbing images of fog and explosions. Understandably, both men had therefore chosen to hide from the undignified behavior behind the safety of the closed office door.

“Would you care for an unsalted, assorted mixture of nuts, Nicodemus?” The Captain’s pleasantly monotonous voice inquired politely. The lack of emotion displayed by the other man was just to Logan’s liking today. A song being pitched and a shirt hitting the glass door with a ‘thud’ behind him were stoically ignored.

The therapy rat in question squeaked in affirmation, curiously standing on its hind-legs to pay attention to their conversation. The choice of respectively one almond, peanut, walnut, hazelnut and pistachio kernel were laid out before it in an orderly row. Nicodemus grabbed the hazelnut with his little paws, before giving a polite squeak.

“A very sensible choice.” Holt commended. “In my opinion, the pistachio kernel is such a purposelessly showy nut. It is certainly nut the most nutritious nut, despite its… gaudy coloring.”

Trying and failing not to show a small smile at the bad pun and the following association, Logan responded, “Indeed.” Nicodemus hopped around the laid out object of their observations and gave the Captain an unobtrusive tap on the hand like Roman had taught him before selecting a walnut.

“Your therapy rat displays quite pleasing manners.”

“He certainly does. I would expect nothing less from a distinguished pet such as him.” Another crash rattled the office, followed by a wailing complaint. “Unlike other… pets I have been told I have apparently acquired.” Logan grumbled, thinking back of Remy calling Roman his pet. Preposterous.

Meanwhile, Roman had scaled the makeshift stage and was narrating ‘The Incredible Story of the Heroic Survival of the Amazing Jake Peralta’, starring Jake Peralta as Detective Peralta, among other ‘volunteers’.

“Just as our dramatic hero believed the day to be saved, evil rose from the shadows beyond!” Roman cried, narrating the event that had caused his colleague to tragically wear a colorful band aid over his brow from his perch on four pushed together desks. He was a grand storyteller, lovely and captivating, making his audience wait with baited breath for the next part of his masterfully orchestrated play as he held his pose. And held his pose.

Annoyed, he cleared his throat, his voice becoming slightly high pitched. “Evil rose from the shadows beyond!”

A bag of chips rustled among the waiting detectives. Roman keened in annoyance, feeling his theatrical genius slighted. This would not do, he was aiming for a tale worthy of Broadway producers here! Renewing his pose with passion, he screeched, “EVIL ROSE!”

With a sigh, Logan rose from his chair in the safety of adult company. “Would you please excuse me, I believe I am missing my cue.” Putting on a preposterous bowler hat stolen from evidence with very little enthusiasm, he slunk into the bullpen.

“Prepare to die, fiend!” He growled while stiffly waving around a spotted umbrella for ‘dramaturgical reasons’, incredulously wondering why on earth he was doing this. Roman’s face lit up with happiness.

***

‘My evil plans, foiled again!’ - Tesla, who wrote lines like those?! Logan’s face still burned at the memory of the acting he’d allowed his partner to talk him into, and in front of his colleagues no less. The things he’d uttered, just to make the childish detective happy. He had clearly softened and he blamed his partner. There would be no dessert tonight! As he’d escaped the precinct, Roman had just prepared to orchestrate a grand sequel. Clearly, the time for a strategic retreat had come. Patton’s company ought to be the safer one.

Yet, despite having come to a mutual agreement to accept the young man’s situation and remain friends, Logan felt ill prepared to enter the Pat-isserie. They might have spoken and hugged at the hospital, however he still feared the influence of the baker’s relationship on their daily interactions. Would he even be able to ignore what he knew was going on in his private life, pretend everything was alright and engage in shallow conversation like he had before? His emotions felt too powerful to treat the situation casually. Despite his cool exterior, Logan was an intense man. He did not know how to love someone halfway. He liked to pretend Roman was the one who followed him around, the one who depended on him, but had his partner not resisted his demanding attempts at taking him in, he would have had Roman under his wing in his flat within the first few months of their tentative friendship. He still only grudgingly accepted the fact that the other returned to his own apartment occasionally. Additionally, the fact that he had - there was no other way to describe it – adopted the little troublemaker Virgil the moment the younger man had shown weakness and caved to his aggressive attempts at caring for him made the truth Logan had tried hard to hide painfully apparent. He needed people to care for. By some stroke of luck Roman and Virgil, even Patton, still believed he was the composed one looking after all of them, the one in control they needed to rely on, but in reality he needed them so badly he felt lost and empty without them. Not being allowed to channel all of that protective anger and loving feelings left Logan a precariously balanced mess, threatening to tip and spill all of those unused, unwanted feelings all over their fragile relationship, suffocating it. Patton didn’t want the things he had to give. If he couldn’t manage to hold himself together, keep his intense longing and protective feelings as well as his anger and helplessness at bay, he’d be turned away. He’d understand it, too. His nerves in his throat, the tall detective evaded a swarm of laughing children holding sticky cupcakes in both hands and stepped into the cafe.

Warmth seeped into Patton so suddenly, it left him feeling lightheaded. Or perhaps it was the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day. He really wanted to look his best from now on, Trevor was not fond of the weight he tended to gain around his hips, and had also been too nervous to get much past the dizzying mix of hope and insecurity in his stomach. So much had happened. Despite the changes he and Trevor had agreed upon following the shocking conclusions he’d come to, seeing Logan was as pleasant as it usually was. He’d slipped through the door and had held it open for a bunch of escaping little ones, allowing them to pass by under his arm, drawing attention to how tall he was. He looked as handsome as ever in his tailored, dark blue suit and silken tie, pale skin contrasting attractively with his raven hair. He’d even brought Nicodemus, which Patton always loved. There was a sort of pride and confidence about the detective whenever he was accompanied by his littlest friend, which Patton found too adorable. The realization of how much he wanted their friendship to work hit him hard. Logan had never been supposed to know. He hadn’t wanted him to be a threat, or for him to see Patton this way. He hadn’t wanted to seem weak.

With both men held back by their own insecurities, finding common ground was hard. Upon facing each other, neither appeared to know how to begin their conversation. Noticing the dark shadows under the detective’s eyes, Patton found he knew what he wanted, though. He and Trevor finally had a real chance at a happy ending after all those years of making each other miserable, why shouldn’t it be possible for him and Logan to find a way to make things work? He’d just need a place to start, and he knew exactly the right one. Feeling a keen sense of Déjà-vu, he silently stepped up to the taller man, being squeaked at by a cheerful, gray rat. Like the first time they’d met, Logan was hard to read at first, closed off and a little intimidating. Yet, like all those months ago, Patton could see beyond the facade. Offering a soft smile, he allowed the other a moment to prepare before raising on his tiptoes and carefully wrapping his arms around his friend. Their embrace was less sure than it had become in the course of their relationship, influenced by the insecurity of their opposing interests as a cop opposed to a victim unwilling to let him protect him. As a result, the detective’s body felt stiff under his hands at first, his jaw tense, his gaze closed off. Patton was patient though. He knew for once there was nothing to say. He curled close, bringing their bodies into close contact, leaning his cheek against his shoulder and letting his affection speak for itself. Wanting to help the other relax, he made himself soft and warm, melting against the long lines of his body like a cat. Like a strange reversal of their first proper hug, finally, Logan softened under him, his breath leaving him with his fear, his arms finally coming up to embrace him properly instead of awkwardly resting on his sides. He needed to be held more than he’d known. Patton’s own nerves quieted, leaving a soothing calmness behind. The rise and fall of the other man’s chest against his gave him something to focus on that made everything else cease existing. As always, the patissier and detective found common ground in each others arms.

Having greeted Virgil and left his beloved Nicodemus with a purring and rolling kitten upstairs to nap, the detective got comfortable on his usual spot, reviewing case notes in his notebook and surreptitiously watching his friends for any signs of distress. Considering the things he now knew, a lump up bitter fear rose in his throat whenever he had the chance to think about the things Patton had to face alone. He worried, all day, every day. Try as he might, the spiraling thoughts stuck with him from the moment he woke with a nauseous feeling in his stomach to the moment he fell asleep. It haunted his dreams and made him wake up in a pool of sweat. He could not help remembering the things he’d seen in his line of work, the reports and statements of women and men abused by their partners, scarred physically and emotionally. They overlapped with reality whenever he looked up to see Patton twirl around, smile at a child or coo at Virgil. He was so soft, so tender and beautiful and easy to hurt. He swallowed and returned his gaze to the paper, trying and always failing to forget.

A weight settled next to him, clad in lavender wool and trailing wisps of flour.

“Logan?” Patton asked softly, pulling at the sleeve of his soft sweater.

“Yes, Patton?”

“I can hear you thinking all the way over there, would you like...”

Flushing hotly, the detective cast his gaze down, mortified at being so obvious. “I apologize.” He hastily cut in, making the other fall silent. “And also for interrupting you. I did not mean to be disrespectful.”

The smaller man smiled, the expression once again softening his face, making him very pretty indeed. “Oh, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to worry! I know your smart head is coming up with so many ideas, so it’s best we just talk about it, don’t you think?” He asked reasonably, settling down comfortably next to his fretting friend. The way he curled up made him small enough to easily fit against the other man’s side, had he wanted to.

“I just want you to know that I had a really great chat with Emile, he is such a delight and so clever and helpful! And I realized how much had been going wrong with the two of us – I guess you knew a lot about that, being a detective and really smart and all – so we talked, Trevor and I, and he agreed to go to couple’s therapy with me, anything I wanted, really, he is truly trying, Logan. It’s wonderful how far he’s come and how much better we understand our mutual fears and problems now. I feel like I know him so much better than I did before, we are much closer now. He wants this to work as much as I do and I really believe it will, so – please don’t look so concerned, I don’t want you to be afraid for me. It’ll be okay, I promise! This time, all will be well.” He implored, his hazel eyes wide and trustful, filled with hope. It made something sharp twist in Logan’s chest, deep down were he harbored so much warmth. He attempted a smile, wanting to preserve Patton’s hope. He couldn’t bear to see him hurt.

“I’m pleasantly surprised by your partner’s willingness to accommodate your wishes.” He uttered diplomatically. Patton, perceptive as he was, was onto him though.

“Then… why do you look so tense? Is everything okay?” He asked anxiously, fear making his stomach feel queasy. Swallowing down all the things he wished to say but had no right to felt like making a rock settle in his stomach.

“Yes, certainly.”

A moment ticked by where the baker observed his friend, his brow furrowed. He seemed to come to a decision. Taking Logan’s calloused hand in his and making the poor man blush dreadfully with nerves and longing, he took his time to find the right words. Knowing the shyness of the detective, he kept his eyes cast down so not to make him feel exposed.

“I know I had to push you away a few times to, um, to get to the point where I wouldn’t have to be afraid for… you respect my wishes, though. I believe that, and I need that from you, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be honest with each other. There has to be something good about everything being in the light now. I think we need to talk openly, so no fear and resentment is between us, and I trust you, Logan.” Finally looking up, he added quietly. “I want to hear what you think.”

The older man took a deep, fortifying breath, disarmed by the honest wish. Still, fear of overstepping and of hurting those hopeful feelings made him hesitant. He felt like a villain, uselessly destroying this belief that things could be better.

“I… don’t think it will work as you expect it to.”

Patton’s eyes widened, growing hurt and wet. As he almost unconsciously pulled his hand back into his lap, his posture changed immediately, making him seem smaller. Feeling his breath catch in his throat, Logan attempted to explain his position, to make it better somehow.

“Patton, I apologize for causing you distress. Since I am hardly an expert on relationships, you have no need to heed my authority. You must consider the things I have been confronted with in the course of my work. I may have grown cynical. I may be wrong.” It cut him to say those words he could not believe, but pushing his opinion on the other would only push him away. Steeling himself, he added his most vulnerable thought despite his fear of how much it might reveal about his feelings.

“And although I deeply admire your ability to trust in the best in any individual, I also do not believe somebody who hurt you deserves the privilege to be with you. You should be with someone who cherishes the right to be by your side. Someone who sees you as worthy of love and protection.”

Breathing out a sad sigh, Patton softened. “It’s hardly a privilege!” He chirped, trying hard to make light of the situation with humor. Logan didn’t take the bait though. His face remained serious and earnest.

“I believe it is.”

His seriousness made the patissier pause. He had no idea how to respond to the depth of emotion he felt behind the words. A twisting, aching sensation of longing came over him unbidden. This was not fair! They were doing better than they had in years, he could not ruin their chance with his stupid heart! He loved Trevor, he had no right to yearn to know what it might be like to be taken home and belong to a man who believed having him was a privilege. Why did it feel so possible right now when the chance was farther away than ever? For a wild moment, he imagined just reaching out and touching Logan’s face, touching him, and just giving himself over to what felt so real all of a sudden.

He was being ridiculous.

Logan was – he was unreachable, and not only because Patton had nothing to offer to him and was probably stupidly imagining impossible things. He’d made his choice long ago and had even recently renewed his promise. He’d be Trevor’s anchor, his protector and caregiver – his everything. The weigh was heavy, but he’d bear it.

Trying to take away his caring friend’s suffering, and to convey some of the hope he’d found, he promised, “This time it will work. Trust me.”

If only Logan could know how much progress he’d made in understanding their dynamic. How hard Trevor tried. So much had changed and for the first time in years, Patton dared to genuinely trust that things would be okay.

“I hope you are correct. I may not believe he deserves to be with you, but I could never want you to be hurt again.”

The detective never lowered his head or hunched his shoulders, but the tension and pain around his eyes and jaw was clear to see.

Logan’s selfless honesty almost broke Patton’s heart. He could see how much the man was torturing himself and he wanted nothing more than to ease his suffering. The detective clearly hated his relationship and hurt whenever Patton returned to Trevor. He’d seen it in the crushed looks, felt it in the worried and protective way he’d cradled him close. Yet he still let him go without a fuss, relinquishing his hold on him with obvious difficulty. He even wished him well. And Patton should be happy. He’d been so afraid of Logan, of his fury, his power, his ability to hurt and break and force Patton to comply with his wishes through the authority of his position. His terror had almost driven them apart for good. Now that the detective accepted his needs and supported his choices despite his pain and anger, he should feel nothing but relief. And yet, he was proving everything Trevor had said about him right. He was foolish and his heart was quick and stupid. Logan was giving him what he’d fought for. His freedom to make his own choices, the right to choose who to be with - and some part of Patton wished he hadn’t. Now that the older man had set him free, all unlikely chances, all unrealistic dreams of being with him had vanished. Before the patissier had made his choice clear to the detective, there had at least been some lingering hope that perhaps, Logan was pursuing him after all. His hugs had been an offer of safety. At times, his touches had felt like a slow seduction, caressing him with utter gentleness, holding him firmly enough to make him feel kept and protected. The way his deep voice had spoken his name had been filled with tenderness. He’d felt so valued.

His heart was heavy as he realized there was no going back. Logan was still here, still looking at him with this impossible softness, but he had stopped fighting him on his decision. A decision he could not back down from, Patton knew that. But at the same time, he deeply regretted the loss of the possible future Logan’s fierce demands and threats to Trevor had symbolized. While his wave of fury and his loss of control had terrified him, Patton knew they had been an offer of a way out, an offer at something new. Even a way to show his appreciation perhaps? Men fought for what they loved, didn’t they? Possibly, his aggression might have been a sign of a deeper interest? This sort of aggressiveness had always accompanied any relationship he’d known after all. Trevor was so unbalanced because he loved him so much and feared to lose him, wasn’t he? And Logan had been ready to tear down walls and break bones to grasp Patton and take him home, away from his boyfriend and the constant doubt and guilt.

And he knew, it would have broken them apart.

Patton could not live in another relationship where he feared control and violence, where his choices were taken from him and where people even got hurt for him. Trevor was different. He was his responsibility and he knew what to expect from him. He hadn’t been able to help it and he was making an effort now. Logan on the other hand was more than that. Had he refused Patton’s demands, he might have been able to tear him and Trevor apart and even take him with him – there would be no one else left to turn to after all, no place to go but where the older man led him, but their relationship would have been doomed from the start. He’d be restricted and intimidated and would live with the knowledge that his decisions would not be respected. Logan was better than that and Patton deeply, desperately needed him to stay that way. He knew, in his bones, that he needed Logan to remain as good and kind and strong as he was. Someone to trust and look up to. Someone who trusted Patton and respected him. His existence gave him strength. His heart broke at the realization finally truly sunk in. This meant he would never be with the man. He could not leave Trevor on his own volition – not now when they were fixing things – and Logan could not force him or tempt him away since Patton could never feel safe or respected with him if he did.

He swallowed hard, casting his gaze down. His eyes burned.

He was such a mess. Stupid, stupid Patton. He should be happy right now, not cry over impossible things. He’d gotten everything he’d wanted – Trevor, his friends, a hopeful future – and here he was, moping over something he was not going to get anyway. Logan was out of his reach and probably not interested in someone as untidy and disorganized and overly emotional as himself. He’d find a beautiful and successful doctor or lawyer and marry them and be free of all those issues. And Patton would be with Trevor and all would be well. Yes.

Nodding to convince himself, he bravely tried to bring his sunny smile back, brushing his curling hair back to give himself time to compose himself. He was ruining their perfectly wonderful afternoon with his moping!

“Thanks for worrying. I appreciate you being there.” As Patton whispered those words, his throat grew tight. He felt his affection so strongly all of a sudden, as if he’d never see the other man again. For a moment, he felt so terribly trapped and lonely, as if he was locking himself away from everything that mattered to him. There was a distance between them he became desperate to bridge lest he’d lose his chance. He just needed to be held, just for a moment. Unable to give fair warning this time, he threw himself into Logan’s arms, burrowing his face in his chest and simply holding on. The detective tensed in surprise, before bringing his arms up automatically. He was obviously confused and overwhelmed with the sudden intensity of the situation, judged by his stuttering breath, but he never disappointed Patton, pulling him close instead of speaking – perhaps because he was floundering about what to say – and pressing him against his chest just right. The slight patissier drew a shuddering breath, not understanding why he felt so desperately needy. He couldn’t be close enough. Appearing to feel his need on some level, Logan leaned back and allowed his friend to sprawl over his chest, half in his lap, until he couldn’t see anything but the darkness those arms enveloped him in, feel his warmth and breath and smell his cologne and soap. As he was held tightly and safely, slowly, the panicked feeling started so recede. The heavy weight of loss and sadness in his chest would not quite go away, but even so, Logan’s hold made it easier to gain strength, to remember the good things. He was not losing his friend, he was right here. How silly he was! And most importantly, he loved Trevor. He really, truly did. Held safely, it was not impossible to remember how his boyfriend looked when Patton had made him truly happy. The image of his smiling face, the eyes crinkling at the corners, the little laugh, it made his heart swell. His joy brought Patton so much pleasure, he wanted to see more of it. He wanted him to be happy and he wanted to be with him in good times again. He looked forward to it. With new strength, he pulled back, smiling unconsciously at the memory of Trevor’s face lit up with honest laughter.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, grateful to the befuddled detective for offering his care without asking questions about his strange moods. Spurred by his hopefully swelling heart, filled with so much love and expectations for a bright future, he leaned up and kissed his detective’s cheek sweetly.

Drawing back, a flash of reddish blond caught his gaze in the window.

///////////////////////

The image of the two of them burned him whenever he closed his eyes, he’d never felt pain like this before, like it cut into him like a physical thing, making him flinch and curl around his wounded chest. For some reason, his thoughts were stuck on a random detail, so small in comparison to the devastating picture that had hit him like a slap in the face - the height difference between them seemed to circle around in his brain, stuck like a splinter he kept picking at until the skin bled, tiny and insignificant, but impossible to ignore, setting his nerves on fire and infecting him with red hot agony. He was tall.

Taller than him.

He’d looked so tiny in his arms.

His hands looked so big on him.

Proprietary.

Patton slipped through the door into their apartment Trevor had fled into just as it was about to fall shut, out of breath, his face ashen with horror. He stumbled over the tidy row of shoes in his haste, tumbling against the wall clumsily. He’d followed Trevor home as fast as his legs would carry him, terror making his heart thunder and his breath come in short pants. Raising his hands in a placating gesture, he tried to speak – tried to lie.

Trevor wouldn’t hear it again. He cut him off, expecting to sound loud, angry – yet his own voice sounded nothing like he intended, it was a shock to him, small, shaking, begging.

“What was that?! Why did you tell me- I thought – you said you’d be with me – you promised you wouldn’t – and with him -” He gasped, quivering. He could see nothing but Patton in the tall man’s arms. He’d been as good looking as he’d feared, composed and elegant and so much – too much to hope to compete with – he’d always known Patton would find someone better, someone who didn’t lose control again and again and again no matter how hard he tried, and he’d tried, every time he’d hated himself. And the other - he was just like he’d imagined him, countless times, taking Patton away, his large hands on his boyfriend’s hips. A wave of despair overwhelmed him. How could he go on now? He couldn’t lose the only thing that mattered – the worst thing wasn’t the touch – the loss, though.

“Why did you make me think we could fix –“ He gasped, bis sight blurry. “You- you made me th-think I could be good enough, I t-tried so hard, I – I tried – I always try-” He screeched suddenly. He knew what he had been doing, he hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but his temper, his anger, he just felt so weak and overwhelmed, sometimes he just couldn’t- but Patton had made him believe, he’d been so ready to try everything – but even as he’d made him hope, Patton had already moved on. He hadn’t even let him show him. He’d chosen something better.

He’d been in his arms. He’d kissed him. He’d reassured Trevor, looked him in the eye and said he loved him and then he’d gone straight to him. Why had he made him hope? Why would he torture him like that – play him like that?! It was so cruel. Did he think – was this a joke to him?!

The thought hooked into his mind like a claw, piercing deep, drawing hot, gushing blood. The powerful, seething, crimson tide rose in Trevor’s chest, higher and mightier with every thought of his failure, his loss, the betrayal. Furious anger swallowed him up like a wave of boiling, lashing water. The detective, he’d been after his boyfriend from the start – Trevor had known it. He’d avoided the cafe unconsciously, had known it would take Patton from him, had known he’d meet someone, even though he’d promised – he was overwhelmed, helpless, furious, he’d made his promise to make everything well just the night before. He’d thought it meant the world. A renewal, a way to finally be healthy and happy. He was a weary, so brittle, he’d wanted to believe it so badly. Patton had looked so earnest. They’d kissed, touched – he’d believed things would be well, trusted him with his life, didn’t he know how much Trevor had given to him, how much he needed-

But Patton hadn’t cared.

The wave rose. He was untethered. He was pulled under.

Carefully, Patton approached him and he lunged, backhanded the whore right across the face. A cry echoed across the vast, empty room. The crash of a body hitting the floor fueled something primal in him. The door slammed shut and he was onto his prey, his tormentor – the man who’d promised him everything and had ripped it all apart. The man he couldn’t live without. The man that had hurt him so much, so much. He was losing his hold, he felt hot humiliation burn in his veins, sizzling desperation. He’d been made a fool, Patton had never wanted to fix them, he’d laughed at him with the detective – he’d never been good enough. Everything was falling apart, the pieces were slipping from his fingers, he was so helpless, being bashed and pulled by his own conflicting emotions, he couldn’t survive without him, his everything, his Patton - who felt like he was better, who’d gone behind his back after giving him hope, he had betrayed him-

He grabbed Patton by the shoulder – so thin under his brutal hand, yanked him up - his whimper made blood and adrenalin flood his head, high pitched, grating. He couldn’t bear to hear it, so loud, too much, he hated – he needed to silence him.

Unseeing fury drove his fist into his victim’s stomach, making him cough and retch. Patton fell to the floor hard, his knees buckling uselessly under him. It wasn’t enough. His fist was driven down on him again, beating, ripping, destroying.

He couldn’t breathe, black spots appeared before his vision. A fist to the side of his head smashed him down hard, making blackness consume him for a shocking moment. Blood spilled from his split lip. The pain in his skull almost split him in half – he was disoriented – he needed to tell him – but his tongue wouldn’t work – everything was spinning, fear choking him with his thunderous heartbeats, he tried to bring his arms up to shield himself but he couldn’t see, everything was blurring, where was Trevor?

A crash, shattering glass – so loud in his ringing ears it seemed to shake the apartment made him flinch. Something cut his raised arm like a whip, spilling sticky liquid over his skin, his throat closed up around the explanation, the apologies – he needed to – his mouth filled with blood, his stomach turned sharply-

Another slap cut his lip, a sharp pain traveled up his ankle, he choked up blood from where he’d cut the inside of his cheek on his teeth, how could he have let it come to this?! Trevor’s face was twisted with nothing but agony, red and raw like a gruesome mask, so very easy to recognize for Patton, who was so familiar with the pain, the guilt, the fear clawing up his spine, consuming him in a primal flash of terror.

His fists were shaking, his breath coming in uneven gasps. For a sudden moment, he was able to see through the haze of rage.

Patton’s small form lay crumbled on the floor, holding quivering hands up uselessly to protect himself. Blood dripped down his arm, his lip.

His voice shook. It was barely above a whisper. Pleading.

“Please, you promised.”

His narrow, bruised chest was heaving with the effort to breathe, his hazel eyes wide and terrified, bitter tears mixing with the blood running from his split lip. He sounded broken.

Worse. He did not sound surprised.

It was a punch in the gut. He had never believed Trevor could do it- his failure had always been expected. He was everything that gave Trevor strength, everything he had to hold onto, and he’d never trusted him in the first place. All he’d done was make him think there was a chance, make him hope, and then crush him with the knowledge of his pathetic deficiency.

The blood on Patton’s face made his heart thunder, making him pulse with anger hate failure, bright crimson, accusing him, he’d failed again, it made guilt and humiliation twist and intertwine with the rage, the feeling of defeat, of falling into a hole after waking up from his madness, seeing the effect of his loss of control, his babe, broken and ugly, smeared with blood, dragging himself up, looking at him with fear, forgiving him again, he always had to forgive him he couldn’t do it right, the water in the bathroom turning red as he washed the traces of Trevor’s failure off his body with shaking, cut hands. Trevor hated the detective for being so good, so smart and successful and unreachable, for being superior, too much to hope to compete with, he felt small and useless, insignificant and helpless and angry at him for making Patton turn from him, making him feel this way, for making him do this again – for failing again – he’d thought he’d controlled it now, he’d been strong, he’d protected his babe from himself and now he’d made him lose his hold, it was all in vane, he was nothing, and Patton had drawn this onto himself, why had he made him fail, why hadn’t he seen how hard he’d tried, he’d turned it around, he’d done better, HE’D FIXED IT and he still went back to this other who was better the whore he didn’t want him he hated Patton he hated HIMSELF.

He’d deserved this.

Half crazed, Trevor grabbed a brutal fist full of the patissier’s hair, yanking him up on his knees before him. He needed to regain control, assert his strength somehow, his anger drove him to grow hotter, wilder-

He’d asked for this.

+++++++

His trembling fingers fumbled with his belt, his fly, the smaller man cried out, his heart racing, frantically trying to pull away, ripping out bloody strands of hair.

No, please not again! Patton vividly remembered the only time Trevor had lost control to his anger so badly, still tasted bitterness on his tongue whenever he recalled the terrible night. It had been their worst one yet, he’d been so mad, forcing Patton onto his knees, spitting insults and self-loathing, prying his jaw open with ruthless hands. Patton had been paralyzed by horror, disbelieving of what was to come. He’d never thought Trevor would do something so terrible to him, he’d never – but he’d forced his cock into his mouth with one thrust, shoving Patton forward by the hand in his hair, making him take him all the way, way too far. Shock had frozen him for long, agonizing seconds, before his body had rebelled with revulsion and terror. He had scrambled against the unforgiving hold, unable to breathe, panic flooding him. Trevor had been mad with rage, brutally thrusting into him, calling him a slut, a whore, a monster, forcing his way into the smaller man’s throat, making his choke, making him retch. Bile had filled his mouth, lack of air making him thrash and cough, fighting to breathe, fighting for his very life. Trevor had only pulled back long enough to make him cough, gasp, before he’d yanked him back, twisting his hands in the weaker man’s hair, making him take it till he was finished. Once he’d come down his throat, he’d dropped Patton as if he were something rotten, disgusting and vile. As if Patton were dirty. He’d never forgotten the look. It still haunted him at odd moments, made him flush with shame and humiliation. He’d never stopped feeling it. As he’d lain on the cold tiles, bitter vomit and semen running down his chin and mixing with the blood in his mouth, right before he passed out in the dirt smeared over his face and chest, he’d felt like he deserved to be looked at this way.

Terrified, hot tears ran down his cheeks as Trevor yanked his face up by the fist twisted in his locks. He tried to plead, to beg. He couldn’t survive this again, he couldn’t.

“No, please, please I can’t, you promised, you said you’d never make me-”

“SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH YOU LYING WHORE!”

Trevor screamed, shaking Patton so hard by the hair it made his teeth clash together painfully. The taller man heaved, tears falling onto the bloody face beneath him. His own was twisted into a reddened, horrid mask of fury and anguish. His mouth had turned into an ugly grimace, caught between a snarl and a sob. He managed to undo his fly, fumbled with his underwear-

++++++++

A crash echoed through the apartment like a gunshot, shockingly loud. It left both men deafened for a long, horrifying moment.

Blearily, Trevor looked up from the body at his feet. The realization came a few heartbeats too late. A fist crashed into his face with the force of a freight train, making him drop like a leaden weight.

It had been a gunshot.

The projectile had shattered the lock of their front-door, making it afford no protection against the kick that almost ripped it off its hinges. Only his extensive training had made the detective punch the attacker instead of shooting him on sight. Had he had time to process the picture he’d seen, he might have murdered the man in cold blood, leaving nothing but a shredded corpse. The moment he found Patton crumbling to the floor however, nothing else mattered to the detective. Flooded with a cold horror he had never experienced before, he sunk to the ground in front of him.

/////////////////

Patton.

Oh Patton.

His hands shook at the sight before him, his breath coming in a sob. Oh no.

He reached out, impossibly horrified-

Patton flinched, crying out and shielding himself. His ears were ringing, the shot had been so loud. It did not matter that no one was touching him, he was trapped, his heart raced so hard, it felt like it would give out, he choked on phantom touches, lightheaded and frozen. Knowing he could not fight, he could not get away, he curled up, hiding his face in his bleeding arms, waiting for whatever he’d be put through in blind terror.

He was so cold.

He did not know how long he lay there, quivering and crying, waiting for the violence he’d been so sure he’d never have to endure again, until finally, a sound cut through the blood rushing in his ears. A sob. Someone else was crying.

Looking up went against all of his hard learned instincts of making himself small and invisible.

He needed seconds to understand what he was seeing.

Logan was kneeling before him, tears streaming down his face. His clean, lovely hands were twisted tightly around each other, shaking as badly as Patton was. His eyes… there were no words to describe how shattered he looked. The patissier whimpered, strenuously drawing himself up.

“L-Logan?”

The detective tried to speak, his voice breaking. He had to start again, visibly fighting the urge to touch Patton, to envelop him in his arms and pick him up from the hard, white tiles smeared with blood.

Logan felt utterly helpless. Patton’s eyes were so wide, so hurt. Another sob threatened to break free from the confines of the detective’s chest. He felt half numb, half tortured. For a long moment, he could barely make sense of how terribly Patton had been treated. The sheer cruelty felt impossible.

He realized he did not know what to say.

Patton appeared disoriented, shock settling in and making his thin limbs quiver like leaves in the wind. He was so tense and tiny, his breaths coming in uneven gasps – but quiet, like he was trying hard not to be noticed. His strength seemed to leave him suddenly, threatening to make his arms give out and make him fall. Logan reached out on instinct to steady him. A frightened gasp and flinch made him freeze. He was too large, too close. The detective fumbled to find words he knew would fall short.

“Patton, I-I would never harm you. You are safe now.” The detective’s deep, unsteady voice pleaded with him to trust him. His hands were raised in a placating gesture, open and non-threatening, tears dripping down his chin. Patton could not look away for a long, fearful moment. Trevor’s hands had been balled into fists, veins and tendons staining against the bones, the skin broken at the knuckles. Terror flooded him once again, gripping him like a mouse pierced by an eagle’s claws. The patissier scooted back, his breath hitching. His right hand braced itself on broken glass, driving the shards into his palm. Logan’s eyes burned, horror and anguish flooding his voice.

“Wait, please – you don’t need to fear me! I am so sorry, I did not meant to frighten you, I only – I only want to help you.” He almost whimpered, feeling utterly helpless. “I would never touch you without your consent, I- I will stay right here, alright?”

Patton nodded, unconsciously drawing his wounded hand into his lap. It was full of glass shards cutting his soft skin. It hurt Logan to see it like nothing he’d ever felt before. Think, you useless fool, he berated himself. He wished Virgil and Roman were here.

“You are cold, may I get you a blanket?” He asked carefully, fearful of doing anything Patton couldn’t place. The detective did not like how long it took the baker to answer with another nod. He wondered if he even heard him. The urge to hold him became almost unbearable. Thankfully, he found a blanket draped over the back of the leather couch, stiff with how little it had been moved. He sank back on his knees before the injured creature.

“Patton, may I put this around your shoulders? Please?” Upon receiving another nod, he approached the other slowly, uselessly wishing he were less frightening, he were better at this, that he could just fix everything. Patton clenched his teeth as Logan leaned close to wrap the blanket around him like it was something he was forced to endure, as if a wild animal were about to tear into him if he moved too much. He was trapped by a man’s closeness and his memories.

“There you go, Patton. It will be alright. May I help warm you? I swear I will leave the moment you tell me to.” Logan attempted to assure him, having no idea whether his physical reassurance would help or make things worse. At this point, Patton’s nod felt less like agreement than learned behavior in traumatic situations. Logan didn’t know if he could trust it, didn’t know what to do, so he carefully, as slowly and gently as he was able, pulled the patissier against his side, hugging him loosely.

“I am so sorry.” He cried, his tears falling on bloody curls.

“It’s fine.” Patton mumbled hoarsely, breaking Logan’s heart. Yet the warmth and familiar hold seemed to thaw something in the younger victim. He started breathing more deeply, slowly leaning against the detective. He was coming back to him. And with it, the realization that this was all his fault. All of his blood, his cut skin and bruised body, Trevor had inflicted the pain he’d himself felt, because Patton had made him hope where there was none. Instead of cutting his losses, he had tried to make everything right that was broken so far past repair. He’d believed all of the promises as if he didn’t know better. He was so foolish, so stupid. Too stupid to fix them. Somehow, the worst thing was that just minutes ago, he’d told Logan to trust him. That things would be alright. He’d believed it. He was so ashamed.

Feeling tiny and ugly and so stupid, he sobbed, burying his face in Logan’s arms. He was here. He held on to him, rocking him gently and shielding him from the world. Patton found himself in his lap as he realized the cold had stopped seeping into him from the tiled floor. His hand was cradling his neck, his arm supporting his back, holding him entirely. Patton’s strength left him.

At least, as he sunk into the hold unresistingly, his frazzled nerves tortuously slowly realizing he was safe, the truth about Trevor started to sink in. He would never change.

It was over.

The thought triggered a pressing memory in his sluggish mind. Trevor? Icy fear came with it. He’d come to feel so safe in Logan’s arms, like his protection and Trevor’s threats could not exist in the same world, but they did. They were in the same room. He flinched, whimpering silently. Where-

Through tears and blood clouding his vision, he spotted a prone form crumbled on the ground behind the man holding him. He shrank back, shocked.

“Oh n-no Trevor- d-did you – is he...”

“No! Of course not, he will recover, I merely incapacitated him. I promise.” Logan assured him hastily, seeing terror of the effect of his violent intervention seep into the broken young man before him. “I am so sorry you had to see this, Patton.”

It seemed to be the last straw for the patissier. He was simply overwhelmed.

“Logan.” His voice broke on an unworded plea. Yet, the detective understood without having to be told.

“Please, let me take you home.” He whispered.

After a long moment, Patton nodded. As carefully as if he were cradling a newborn kitten, Logan bundled the injured young man into the blanket and lifted him into his arms. Glass crunched under his shoes as he carried him outside, hiding his tear stained face from the shocked neighbors finally daring to enter the hallway. Patton heard none of it. He pressed his face to Logan’s chest and closed his eyes.

ART:

@dweeborg created this gorgeous combination of Roman with stunning makeup and Virgil with his lovely hair, as well as a (shirtless, yum) picture of Virgil feeling good after his spa day.

How cute is Logan with Nicodemus on his shoulder?! Painted by @lienlovesshadowhunters

@doctorwhooian drew Roman being absolutely STUNNING in a crop-top and knee-high boots.

A personal favorite: @typical-torii gifted us with a drawing of RoRo having his locks combed to the side, looking bad-ass after a fight. He’s so fricking pretty like that!

A picture I absolutely LOVE – Roman glittering and lovely with a super cute man-bun giving Virgil inappropriate feelings, their expressions are just so utterly adorable and the raccoon in judging. Thanks a thousand times to @anxiously-chill

Next Chapter

#Keep him safe #Detective Logan #Detective Roman #baker Patton #delinquent Virgil #Prinxiety #Logicality

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