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mknightgrant · 3 years ago

Text

Silence

Pairing(s): Steven Grant x Reader, implied Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Layla El-Faouly

Word count: 5.1K. Buckle up, folks.

Warning(s): Insecurities and heavy angst. I cried while thinking of the concept, and I’m hoping this does my idea justice. Set after the finale, so there are spoilers!

A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing a fic and posting it, so please be gentle! This piece is purely based on research and the events of the series. I am not a system, nor do I know anyone who is a system. If any part of this piece offends anyone, please let me know. No offense is intended.

This is also not completely beta-read, so the mistakes are on me.

Summary: You should’ve stopped asking questions.

Taglist: @s-v-e-l-t-e, @caroldanvours

Everyone had warned you about the rose-tinted glasses. Your friends, your family, hell, and even your old college professors used to tell stories about how love could be either the best or worst thing that you could ever experience. It was a risk to put your heart entirely into the hands of a stranger, giving them the liberty to do whatever they wanted to it. Love it, cradle it, protect it, sure—but also poke it, stab it, and break it to the point of no return.

But with Steven Grant? It was a risk you were definitely willing to take.

You had been friends with him for five months and had been dating for at least eight before he disappeared without a trace. You were confused, to say the least. In the year or so that you have known him, you never would have expected him to disappear and cut all ties with you. But still, you waited. You waited with the hope that maybe he’d come back home to you.

However, when Steven did return, he was conflicted. He honestly believed that you wouldn’t wait for him, especially since there was no effort on his part to try and contact you after his sudden disappearance. Nonetheless, he felt that he at least owed you an explanation, and his heart squeezed in his chest when you didn’t leave when he told you about everything.

He explained it from the start, his sleeping disorder, how he tried staying up because he had hyper-realistic dreams that scared the hell out of him. You already knew of this early on in the relationship, but then he continued the story, telling you about Marc, about Khonshu, and everything that had happened to him from the day he got fired from the museum to the day he came back home to you. You've noticed that he seemed happier now, probably because he understood why he had been losing days of his life, and he’s come to accept and love his alter despite everything.

But there was also another reason, wasn’t there?

Maybe it was your fault. You shouldn’t have asked too many questions. You should’ve just taken what he told you, accepted the anecdotes, and moved forward. You should’ve just been happy that he was here and safe. But you just had to ask, right?

“Who’s Layla?” Your innocent question stopped him dead in the middle of his sentence as the grin he donned slowly faded into a tight-lipped smile. One he had hoped would be a little more reassuring than nervous, and maybe, if he hadn’t taken so long to reply, you wouldn’t have been suspicious.

“A friend of Marc’s.” His reply was short and simple. “I… She was the one who came over that day, remember? When you dropped off that book you borrowed from me? Before I… Before I disappeared?”

Oh. Of course, you remember Layla–well, her physical attributes, at least. To say that she was gorgeous was an understatement. She was breathtaking, ethereal, and a goddess at the least. However, you hadn’t heard whatever they were talking about when you knocked on the apartment door that day because they stopped talking before Steven opened the door, enough for him to peek out at you.

Steven’s heart raced as he studied your reaction to his reply, trying to gauge whether or not you heard his and Layla’s conversation. Surely you hadn’t, right? You had no idea about the scarab before he told you about it when he had returned. So that would mean that you probably hadn’t heard the conversation, and you hadn’t seen the way he looked at her the way he once looked at you. You wouldn’t have waited this long for him if you had, right?

He hadn’t meant to fall for her, but he couldn’t help himself, could he? The second his arms instinctively wrapped around her waist when she drove a little faster towards his apartment, and he was hit with “I’m still your wife,” things changed. His mouth moved on its own accord that day as Layla handed him the divorce papers he–technically, Marc–had sent.

“I would never divorce you.”

Then everything came crashing down after that. Marc had warned him against showing Layla the scarab, but she got around to it anyway, so it was too late. Steven had begged for her help, trying to explain the whole situation, and the entire thing merely confused Layla even more.

“You really don't remember why we've been looking for this? Our adventures. Or our life together?”

“Oh, God, I wish I could.”

You had come knocking on the door only a few minutes later, a smile on your face as you held up his newer copy of Marceline Desbordes-Valmore’s book of poetry. “Steven! Hi! I finally got around to reading this, but I have to say that I don’t exactly ge-”

Your words were abruptly cut off when Steven dragged you into the apartment, shutting the door behind you. None of you were quite sure why he had done that, but now that he’s thinking about it, maybe Marc had been the reason for it all.

You hadn’t had enough time to properly introduce yourself to Layla, and likewise, because the moment your eyes lay upon her, you froze. Who was she?

The following events flew by too quickly for you to properly grasp at the time. The police knocking on the door, Steven gently urging you to hide, the police making accusations against him, then just silence.

By the time you believed that the coast was clear, they were gone. The police were gone. The woman was gone. Steven was gone. You had tried going around the area, searching through the different police stations for him, and you had even gone back to the museum to ask if they had changed their mind and were pressing charges. Sadly, nothing. He wasn’t at any of the police stations, nor did the museum change their minds. So you did the only thing you could do at the time. You waited.

You texted him, called him, and left voicemails for him. Hell, you even resorted to emailing him a couple of times, just to see if your messages would reach him. All your efforts were unanswered, and you truly had no idea of his whereabouts until he came back home to you.

Sure, you’d seen the news about the happenings in Cairo, but never in a million years would you have thought that your boyfriend was the one donning the white suit.

“Oh!” A smile graced your lips, having merely associated the name with the pretty girl who once stood in the apartment. “I remember her! She helped you guys out? That’s amazing!”

You were completely unaware that Steven left out an important detail: that Layla was his alter’s wife. In the short period that he had been gone and away from you, he had kissed her and had fallen in love with her too.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Days passed, and you had been invited to the apartment numerous times throughout the week, but you weren’t complaining. You missed Steven, quite frankly, you also wanted to know more about Marc. You had encountered him a couple times when he had been fronting, but your interactions never lasted too long. Steven was usually requested for control whenever you were around, but you were aware of his alter since Steven had explained that they recently learned how to become co-conscious. That didn’t mean that they knew every waking life of the other, but at least the blackouts and memory gaps have lessened considerably.

On random occasions, Steven would continue to tell you stories about what had taken place in Cairo. Some stories were repeats of what he had told you in previous days, while others were memories he had just remembered and wanted to tell you. Sometimes, he’d tell you his thoughts about the event or other questions he had, only to piece the answer together halfway through asking you.

It was the simple moments like these that made you happy, really. To have Steven beside you on the bed, rambling about anything that came to his mind. You didn’t mind when he would tell you a story he had already told you, and you definitely didn’t mind when he would go into the technicalities of the event.

Though, there was one thing you noticed to have become a recurring topic: Layla. He would bring her up unconsciously, really, or at least, that’s what you would want to believe. But as the days passed, her name frequented his lips more often, and it felt different. It was almost as if he asked you about her daily, bringing her up as if she was the only waking thought he had. If it weren’t for the accent, you would have honestly thought Marc was fronting. She was his friend first, right?

“Do you think she’s okay? I-I mean, Marc and I were Khonshu‘s avatar, and he was just downright manipulative.” He turned his head to glance at you, “Taweret… Taweret, on the other hand… we met in that afterlife I told you about, yeah? She seemed nice. Helped us escape the Duat and all that, but… I just can't help but wonder, you know? Do you think Taweret is treating her right?” His question remained unanswered as he turned his gaze back up to the ceiling of his apartment, his fingers intertwined and resting on the soft flesh of his stomach.

You were lying on your side as you looked at him, heart clenching in your chest as you studied the way his eyes shone under the moonlight. It took you a couple of seconds before you were able to bring yourself to nod slowly, swallowing the lump that you hadn’t noticed formed in your throat.

“I’m sure she’s doing alright, Steven. She does sound pretty badass, yeah? She’s saved you and Marc quite a lot, hasn’t she?” Your voice was small as you replied to him, a wave of insecurity wafting over you as things began clicking together in your brain.

“Yeah? Yeah. She did save us when she freed Khonshu! I swear, though, you should’ve seen her in her armor, love! She looked amazing. I don’t even think I was able to greet her properly, really. Could you believe that? Marc and I were conversing about it the other day, right? And…”

You toned out his words as you continued to observe the way his mouth moved, how his lips flicked up to a gentle smile as he talked about her, and how he continued to ramble on and on about her. Utterly oblivious to your thoughts, more so to your feelings. You’ve seen this kind of look before.

To be fair, you had been thinking about it for a while. You tried convincing yourself that she had just become a close friend that he began to care about. That he was just concerned about her well-being since she had agreed to become an avatar of an Egyptian goddess, and he nor Marc didn’t exactly have the best time as Khonshu’s avatar. However, the more you studied his words and actions, things became clearer and clearer. It wasn’t until a gentle call of your name snapped you out of your thoughts, causing your eyes to lock with Steven’s worried ones.

“You… Are you in love, Steven?” You dared to ask, causing silence to fill the room once again. A silence that lasted a couple moments as Steven furrowed his brows, and his hesitation in giving you an answer was already an answer itself.

The more he talked about her, the more you were able to analyze his reactions and facial expressions and damn yourself for having seen that look in the past. Damn yourself for recognizing it.

You’ve seen it in the way your father looked at your mother. You saw it in the way your best friend’s spouse looked at them on their wedding day. You recognized it because it was the same look he used to have when he would talk about you.

“What?” He asked, confusion filling his expressions as he shifted on the bed to bring all of his attention to you. “Of course, I’m in love, sweetheart. I’m in love with you.”

Normally, his expression of love would have you all shy and red in the cheeks, but that wasn’t the case this time. “It’s just…” you frowned, bringing your attention to the ceiling. Roles had been reversed at this point, with you on your back and Steven on his side, facing you. “I’ve seen this look of yours before, you know? It’s the look of a man who’s fallen in love…” your voice trailed off at the end, pursing your lips as you tried to get your emotions in check. The can of worms has been opened, right? There isn’t much of a way back from it now. “It’s the look you used to have for me.”

Steven frowned as well. “Used to have? Darling, I don’t know what you’re going on about?”

You chose to ignore his comment, another question leaving your lips before you could even process the thought.

“Who is she to you, Steven? Who is Layla to you?” There was a slight shake in your tone, “You.. You said she’s a friend of Marc, yeah? But who is she to you?”

His eyes softened at the question, pursing his lips in response. If he were to be honest with you, he didn’t know who she was to him at this point. Was he attracted to her? Had he actually fallen in love with her in that quick of a timeframe?

Steven had always prided himself in the fact that he didn’t fall in love too quickly. Sure, he had casual crushes from the museum and friend crushes around the town, but this was different–Layla was different.

His brain often short-circuited when he was around her, and he just couldn’t help but admire everything about her. Maybe it was their shared interest in hieroglyphics and astronomy, or maybe it was something about her beauty in general, or maybe something about her intelligence and the way she was always there. She understood him, and she fought for him too. However, there was one thing he was sure of–she was Marc’s wife, not just a friend like he made it out to be.

But deep down inside him, he knew that he had fallen for her. He technically did confirm it back in one of those tents in Cairo, didn’t he? When Marc interrogated him about being in love with his wife? He hadn’t verbally answered the question, but his actions were enough for Marc to know that he had. The kiss he shared with Layla was also enough for him to know that he had.

Steven’s lack of response broke your heart, to say the least. The lack of a verbal response already served as the answer you hoped you wouldn’t have to receive from him.

The silence between you two didn’t last as long as you thought it would, having a sigh leave his lips as he brought his arm over his eyes.

“I-I don’t know.”

His words brought your attention to him once more, seeing his body tense up as he gulped. You should have played it off and moved on by this point, right? But you couldn’t. Not when his body language told you more than enough. You sensed the truth in his statement; you’d give him that. But at the same time, you also felt the conflict that was arising within him, and you knew that was because of you.

It definitely did not help your thoughts when he sniffled. Perhaps you were missing the bigger picture? Fuck. Maybe you overreacted? Had you offended him?

“Shit. Wait, lovie–I’m sorry. We can drop it, yeah?” You offered, sitting up abruptly and moving closer to him so you could lift his arm from his face, your heart breaking at the sight of tears rimming at the corners of his eyes. “I just… You were gone for so long and since you came back, you’d always just bring her up and I was just curious.”

Steven sat up as well, and your hand moved to cup his cheek, causing him to lean in against your touch. “That’s all. But I believe you, okay, lovie? I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry..”

The thing is, you and Steven barely got into misunderstandings, and on the rare occasion that you did, whoever was in the wrong would apologize with a kiss. So that’s exactly what you intended to do. You moved closer and leaned in to press your lips to his, only for him to pull his head back slightly in hesitation–another event you weren’t prepared for.

Swallowing back a sob, his eyes bore into your saddened ones. Guilt overcame his features almost immediately at the sight. You at least deserved the truth, right?

“I… She isn’t… She isn’t just Marc’s friend.” He whispered, bringing his hand to cup your own when he felt your touch falter slightly.

You felt as if you already knew where this conversation was headed, based solely on how he was basically tiptoeing around you, but you desperately wished you were wrong. “I… Is there something else you’d like me to know, Steven?”

“Layla… She’s Marc’s wife, darling.”

Nothing could have prepared you for that. You would have at least thought that she was Marc’s girlfriend or something along those lines, but you never would have thought that the alter of the man you were dating was married.

“She’s…” your voice trailed off as your hand slowly dropped from his cheek, causing him to move quickly to take your hands back in his. “He… You knew about this? When did she tell you? Or when did Marc tell you?”

“She told me the day that we met… Marc wanted to get a divorce because Khonshu wanted to have her as his next avatar, but Marc never signed the papers.” He quickly explained, tilting his head slightly so he could meet your eyes when you shifted your attention to your hands in his. “She tried giving me the papers that day but I couldn’t sign them–”

That sentence alone made your eyes shoot up, locking with his. “You couldn’t sign them?” you breathed, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to grasp the information that was being handed to you. Shaking your head as your heart pounded against your chest, you continued, “You… You knew that she was Marc’s wife from the first day, yet you lied to me?”

He looked down at your hands, which he still held in his, as a response, his thumb moving in circles in an attempt to soothe you, as if it would do much.

You honestly did not have the energy to be mad at him. Technically speaking, he hadn’t done anything wrong either. Your relationship did not have a title, and while you were definitely past the ‘I love you’ stage, he wasn’t your boyfriend. Based on your knowledge, you don’t have high hopes that he will ever be either.

“You should have just told me. Hell, even just… not saying anything as a response would have sufficed as an answer.” Was all you could bring yourself to say after a couple moments of not saying anything to one another. Your words were leaving your mouth slowly as if articulating every single word you were about to say. “Lying… Lying isn’t better than silence, Steven. I-I would have understood… I mean, it was coming, wasn’t it?”

His head shot up at that, and his gaze met with yours once more. “Wha-”

It was your turn to cut him off. “Do you love her, Steven?” You asked once more, a small smile gracing your lips. If he hadn’t known you as well as he did, he would’ve been convinced that you were okay, but he knew better than that.

You were convinced that you would be met with another round of silence, but you were mistaken.

“I-I think I do…?” He mumbled softly, gritting his teeth as he shook his head. You weren’t quite sure what his head shake was in response to, but you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to even process the action. “I don’t know, I can’t–You’re my first love, darling, I swear–”

His words turned into incoherent mumbles as he desperately tried to find the words to explain himself. To explain his feelings in a way that would hurt you in the least brutal way possible, but no matter how he chooses to explain it, his words are bound to hurt.

“I may be your first, but that’s all I’ll ever be, yeah?” Your voice was almost as soft as a whisper as you gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “And it doesn’t matter though, does it, Steven? It doesn’t matter if I'm your first, I-I’ll never be your last. I’ll never be your only.” Maybe you were rambling at this point, but everything was crashing down around you. The man you had been waiting on, the relationship you were clinging on to, and everything you have come to love was slipping through your fingers so quickly. To make things worse, your acceptance of it all merely serves as the catalyst to the inevitable end.

“I’m never going to make you choose, lovie… You know that, right?” A tear found its way down your cheek as you brought his hand to your lips to give it a gentle, lingering kiss. “It’s okay, Steven.”

He felt unworthy of you, to say the least. You deserved so much more than a man who leaves without a trace and whose loyalty did not fully reside with you. The memory of the kiss he shared with Layla plagues his mind, and the confession burns in his throat as he wonders if it's even worth it to tell you–to break your heart more than he already has.

“I’ve always considered myself lucky to have you, you know? It just… our whole relationship felt so good. Too good, actually.” You smiled sadly, tears brimming the corners of your eyes as you forced yourself to look at the man you love. The one you allowed yourself to fall for so recklessly with the hope that maybe, just maybe, he would love you back, even if just half as much as you did him. “She made–no, she makes you happy, doesn’t she? She kept you safe and fought for you. She saved you, and I just…”

Steven’s eyes shut tightly at your words, shaking his head rapidly as he desperately tried to think of the words to say to you. “It wasn’t on you, darling… Please don’t blame yourself for this.”

His response was typical, but you couldn’t blame him. “I don’t blame anyone for this, Steven, okay?” Your tone was free from any malice or bitterness, but the sadness that laced your words was still quite evident. “I could never hate anyone who makes you feel safe and happy, you know that. The only thing I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Steven, and if she makes you happier than I ever could, then….”

“No.” The fact that you couldn’t even bring yourself to finish that sentence broke him. His head continued to shake as if to convince himself that this isn’t happening to him, that you weren’t actually considering leaving him. He is well aware that you deserve better, but could anyone blame him for being selfish? After everything he’s been through? And after everyone he’s lost? “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

Your hand reaches up to cup his cheek once more, your thumb gently grazing his skin as your eyes drink up the sight of him. Memorizing him. Every single bump and wrinkle. Every single self-acclaimed imperfection, in Steven's opinion. Every single thing that made him Steven and made you love him even more. “I love you, Steven Grant. I love every single bit of you, and I hope you never forget that.”

Your insecurities were getting the best of you. How could they not? The woman he had fallen for was here in the room with you that fateful day and had followed him somehow. Helped him. Protected him. She had everything you didn’t–bravery, strength, the brain, the beauty. And to top it all off? She had him, whether she was aware of that fact or not, she had won Steven’s heart, probably the same way she had won Marc’s. How could you ever compete with that?

You laid a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, and his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. He was too engrossed in his thoughts to realize that you stood up, collecting the things that you had brought over for the day. He’s brought back to his senses when he hears you sniffle, and he genuinely wishes he could just take you back in his arms and make you forget that he hurt you. But he doesn’t deserve that, does he?

Instead, he chooses to repeat his question as he gets off the bed and walks over to you. “Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye?” He asks once more, dejection and defeat clouding his senses. His hands move to wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him in a tight hug, not wanting to let you go. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, but at the same time, he still doesn’t want to lose you.

You hadn’t made him choose between you and Layla because you made that choice for him, and you were letting him go. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to lose you, and at the same time, he didn’t want to lose Layla.

Your arms wrapped around him, holding him like a lifeline-your lifeline. A slow nod from you caused his grip on your figure to tighten as he felt your movement, a new wave of tears accompanying the gesture. “Could you do something for me, Steven?”

There were so many questions taking over your thoughts at the moment:

Why couldn’t you be good enough? How were you going to move on? Why were you stupid enough to think that this would last forever? When did he fall out of love with you?

Instead, you chose something else. A question that hurt him more than it hurt you. “Tell me more about her. Just so I know that I’m leaving you with someone who could love you as much as I could.”

His grip tightened even more at your request. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you more about her, even if he had talked about her too many times in the past couple of days. He couldn’t do it because he knew that this was your way of seeing how you could have been better for him, where you lacked in your relationship. But the thing is, you never lacked in any aspect–you were perfect, and he doesn’t deserve you.

A shake of his head was the only response he could give you, causing you to sigh as you gently pulled away from his grasp. It didn’t work though, since his arms were still firmly planted around your waist, but you were pulled apart enough for you to see his face.

Cupping his cheek once more, you leaned your forehead against his. “Kiss me? Just… Just one last time, Steven. Please.”

And he did. He pressed his lips against yours in a kiss that would be engraved in your memory forever. A kiss that captured feelings of love, regret, selfishness, and sorrow. A kiss that would be the last of the memories you would share with him in thirteen months you had known each other. A kiss that would ultimately be your last with the man you have grown to love despite the hardships and heartbreak that came with being with him. You never would’ve thought that you and Steven would have your last kiss like this.

“How lucky am I to have someone that makes saying goodbye so hard?” You forced out a laugh, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your forehead against his once more. A sad smile graced your lips as your thumb gently wipes away the tears that have made it down his own cheeks. “I love you, and I'm just really grateful that I had you. Even if just for that couple of months that I did.”

Steven’s eyes drank you up the same way you had earlier, memorizing your features and everything about you. He just hates how the last memory he would have of you would be like this–with your heart broken because of him.

“Is it selfish if I ask you to stay?” He asked, his voice softer than it usually was when he was with you. And for fucks sake, you almost do, but you can’t.

“Oh, God, I wish I could.”

The line jogs his memory, causing his eyes to clench shut. His tears were freely streaming down his face at this point, and he knew he looked like a mess, but he didn’t care.

“You were good to me, Steven Grant. Thank you.” You couldn’t find the words to say as you pressed your lips against his nose once more. “Thank you, lovie. For letting me love you the way I did.”

“Please don’t say goodbye.” A broken sob wrecks his lips as tries to convince you to stay, but he knew there was nothing he could do to make that happen. “I-I can’t lose you. Please. You promised.” It was selfish for him to pull this card on you, but believe it or not, he does love you. “You promised…”

Nonetheless, you nod slowly. If he doesn’t want to hear the goodbye, he doesn’t have to. But it doesn’t mean that this wasn’t the last time you would see him. He knows this.

“I’ll see you later then, yeah? When we meet again?”

He was shaking uncontrollably now, but he had to let you go the same way you were letting him go. Had roles been reversed, he would’ve done the same for you.

All he could muster was a nod as he forced himself to release you from his hold. He honestly hated how things went south so quickly, but he was to blame for that, wasn’t he?

He has to let you go.

“Laters, gators.”

A gentle kiss on the back of his hand, and a squeeze of reassurance were the last things he remembered before the door of his apartment shut behind you.

Steven was left in the same way you were when he had disappeared that night.

In silence.

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stormbreaker101 · 2 years ago

Text

The Contest of Champions (Intertwined AU)

The Magnificent Seven have all joined their new captain, Owen, in piracy. In their journeying across the Spiral, the Eagles of Aquila strike at their pride, calling them not real heroes. The Seven resolve to do whatever it takes to prove the Eagles wrong, and maybe relive their true glory days as a team and family again.

I started writing this for @destiny-moonforge a little over a month ago (Owen is their OC in their personal Pirate101/OCverse, the Intertwined AU). i finished it last night and couldn’t post it to tumblr because I was on the verge of passing out.

Content Warnings: Canon-typical violence, canon-atypical gore (descriptions of wounds, blood)

Word Count: 10332. Yea, it’s a doozy.

“CAPTAIN!” Billy the Kid’s voice burst from the docks of Nova Aquila. “THE EAGLES ARE SHITTALKIN’ YA!”

Owen put down their coil of rope and hopped from the ship’s deck. “THEY’RE WHAT!?” they shouted.

“SHITTALKIN’!” Billy repeated. He ran up to them, panting. “So, we’re in the tavern tellin’ the Eagles about our own escapades, y’know, trading stories from legend to legend an’ all that, and— get this— they say we weren’t any of us heroes! NONE!”

“No!” Owen gasped. They knew the Eagles of Aquila were rude, cocky, self-centered assholes, but this was a new low!

“YES!” Billy insisted. “You, me, us, Wyatt, none of us! All that we’d done here with their Trojan War, also nothin’! Why, if I weren’t with the others I’d whoop every one of ‘em turkeys for saying that!”

“They’d deserve it,” Owen muttered.

Billy closed his eyes and took a few breaths through gritted teeth. He was gettin’ too riled up about this. He’s gotta be a lil’ bit hinged if he wants to be a hero— and a good model t’ Owen and Timmy. “Wild Bill told me to get some fresh air so I didn’t direc’ly explode in the tavern. But the way I sees it, he’s gonna have to tell off Buffalo and Jane too. We’re all pissed! An’ rightly so. So! What’cha say we go an’ show those big-beaked ninnies what kinda heroes we really are?”

“You’re not thinking of starting a fight, are you?” Owen asked.

“HEAVENS no!” Billy burst. “I’m supposed ta’ be respectable. They already call us barbarians, we don’ need to be called taverntossers too! I’m jus’ thinkin’ the birds might listen to us more if all of us were there. Maybe they don’ believe we’re really the Magnificent Seven because in there we’re six- Five. We’re five cuz Wild told me to step out. God they’re gonna believe ‘em less now!” He stomped his hoof in frustration. Damn it, Wild! In tryin’ to diffuse the situation he only made it worse!

“Well let’s not waste a second!” Owen shouted. They grabbed Billy’s hand and rushed off to the tavern.

Billy kicked the door open. The rest of the Seven turned their heads at Billy’s loud entrance. The other taverngoers turned their heads as well.

“That’s the last of the Seven?” someone asked. “That’s hardly a child!”

Owen’s grip tightened in Billy’s hand. Gods dammit, they weren’t a child. They were sixteen and had hella babyface. Everyone’s judgemental gazes shot through Owen like bullets.

“I feel ya, bud,” Billy murmured, so just Owen would hear. They were crushin’ his hand now but Billy had come to understand the gesture as I need support. He wouldn’t deny Owen that support. He’s gotta be there for ‘em. He looked out to the rest of the Seven. Jane waved him over. Billy nodded. “Hey, let’s head over to the rest of ‘em, yea? I think Jane’s got an idea.”

Owen nodded.

The Seven were seated around a table in a small alcove. The tavengoers’ gazes burned at the back of Owen's head. “What’s going on?” they asked.

“Billy’s probably told you everything you need for context,” Wild Bill said.

“For obvious reasons, we can’t let their insults stand,” Buffalo Bill said. “Especially not that they insulted you to your face now! And they dare to call us the rude barbarians. Preposterity!”

“Nothing we say seems to convince them that we’re heroes, so there’s gotta be something we can do instead,” Jane said.

“But even helpin’ in Troy wasn’t good enough, remember?” Billy brought up to the group. “Their own damn happenings here in Aquila that we lent our hands to, and all the glory goes to one o’ their own instead!”

“It seems there’s no pleasing them,” Barklementizov worried. His mouth was in a strained little frown. He didn’t like leaving this unresolved, but he couldn’t see a solution himself.

Owen racked their head for an idea. “They refuse to listen… their standards too high… Why don’t we ask them what we could do to prove it? Get their standards right from them, and hold them to their word?”

The rest of the Seven looked at each other. Indeed, why hadn’t they tried to ask? It was such a simple solution, but one they all overlooked in the moment. Duck was the first to break the silence. “Why don’t we, indeed?” He stood on the table and cleared his throat. It was different from his usual coughs, louder and with more voice behind them, but he held his hand over his beak anyway. He spoke to the entire tavern. “Gentlemen, you’ve heard our tales-” koff- “and you deem us not heroic enough. Is there anything that we could do, so that-” koff koff- “my friends are heroic enough for y’all?”

The tavern fell quieter than Owen imagined possible. Well, that’s their huckleberry alright. A skilled weaver with words, and gentle but sturdy in tone, even with his chronic coughs breaking up his sentences. An orator, that’s a word Owen’s heard floating around the marble and cobble central square of Nova Aquila.

“Well, there’s the Contest of Champions,” someone at a table Owen couldn’t see said.

Barkle gasped. “I’ve read of the Contest of Champions! It’s the peoples’ variant of the legendary Olympic Games,” he explained to the rest of the Seven.

“Are you kidding?” a second stranger’s voice asked. “There’s no way in Tartarus that Pindar will let them in!”

“And that’s the person we gotta talk to to get in,” Jane pieced together.

“The Contest starts at noon. It’s far too late for any new contestants to enroll!” a third Eagle added.

“It’s not noon yet, is it?” Billy asked the crowd.

“No, but-”

“So what you’re saying is there’s still time,” he finished up.

“Owen, do you want to do this?” Wild Bill asked. He didn’t want to force Owen into any sort of clout-chasing contest. He knew the Magnificent Seven were heroes enough; they didn’t need to prove themselves to people who wouldn’t appreciate them. But, he wouldn’t say no outright. Owen deserved to choose.

“Of course I do!” Owen answered. They appreciated Wild Bill checking in, but to suggest they wouldn’t want to prove how heroic their family was and to show these jerks up would be an insult to their character had it come from anyone else! “To Pindar we go!”

Pindar, an older Eagle with graying feathers and a heavier toga, was standing by the gates to Nova Aquila’s busy docks, looking out to the skyway.

Buffalo Bill called out to him, his voice running faster than the Magnificent Seven themselves. “PINDAR!”

Pindar turned around. He looked at the seven foreigners. “Yes? How can I help you, sirs?”

“We’d like to join the Contest of Champions!” Owen spoke up.

“The Contest of Champions?” Pindar repeated, tilting his head. “Oh, you haven’t missed it, yet. This year’s winners will be announced in but a few hours, and the play-by-play within the week. Partake in the city’s wonders in the meantime.”

“We’d like to join the Contest of Champions,” Wild Bill repeated. He emphasized the ‘to join’, in case Pindar’s ears were beginning to fail him in old age.

“What?” Pindar asked. He looked the group over. He saw them as a handful of birdfolk (though none Eagle), one person who seemed a blend of human and bug, a vampire immune to sunlight, and two particularly rude-looking people with fur instead of feathers. “Oh, you all must be quite new around here. Only the finest heroes of Aquilan blood, kin to the Immortals themselves, can compete in the Contest. They’re the only ones who would have any chance to win the Contest and bear its Prize. In fact, I suspect there’d be a rule against foreigners competing in the first place.”

“I see how it is. Hiding behind your uptight rules then, are we?” Buffalo Bill challenged.

“Why?” Billy goaded. “You scared we’d show you featherbrains up?”

“There should be a first time for everything, don’t’cha think?” asked Jane. “Why not let us try?”

“This Contest could be something extraordinary if we participate!” Barkle suggested. “Let us match our wits and hands against your best and brightest! It would be a spectacular thing to watch, a new marvel, perhaps on the level of the legendary Olympic Games!”

“And, if we fail as you think we’re destined to-” koff- “it would make your heroes shine even brighter in contrast,” Duck mentioned, appealing to Pindar’s preconceptions.

Pindar stroked his feathered beard. “I suppose exceptions could be made, rules could be bent, favors could be had.” He looked at the wax tablet in his hands. “Our victory wreaths are yet to be delivered from Sparta, I suspect the Vulture Raiders plundered them. If you could fetch them for us, it would be enough of a favor to let you in.”

“So we fetch your wreaths, and you let us compete?” Owen asked, to make extra sure they were hearing Pindar correctly.

“Yes,” Pindar agreed.

“Then it’s a deal,” Owen promised. “How many wreaths?”

Pindar read over his tablet. “Eight crates of them.”

“We’ll be right on it!”

The Magnificent Seven all went down to the docks, where Owen’s main ship, the Silver Moth, floated. “Can you tell the rest of the crew what’s up? Muster on the docks? I gotta find our other ship,” Owen asked as they climbed aboard.

A chorus of “Yes”s and “Sure thing”s and other agreements rang from the adults as Owen rushed to their cabin. The cabin was a bit of a mess, by most peoples’ standards, but it was a mess Owen could navigate as deftly as the many skyways they had sailed in. Eventually, they found the other ship, the Santo Oro, in its neat little bottle. Owen rarely used the Santo Oro for many reasons, but it was undeniably a good ship. If part of the crew ran the Santo Oro while the other part manned the Silver Moth, they could be twice as efficient in raiding the Vulture Raiders back. “Divide and conquer”, as the strategy’s called.

Ship bottle in hand, Owen flew out to the docks. The crew had all gathered, and though the Seven had told the rest of the pirates about what was up, they still waited for their captain’s word. There’s a situation, what’re the Silver Moths all gonna do about it?

Owen wasn’t the best at public speaking. They’d never be cut out for ambassador business; it’s a good thing they’re only a pirate captain. “So, we’ve gotta fight the Vulture raiders for something the Eagles want. It’ll let us get into the Contest of Champions. It might be quicker if we take both ships at the same time.” They held up the Santo Oro’s bottle, then tossed it down.

Subodai caught the glass bottle and handed it to Ratbeard in one quick motion. He didn’t even consider keeping the ship for himself. Owen knew why; Subodai's great at many things, but sailing wasn’t one of them.

Ratbeard popped the bottle’s cork and the skiff appeared next to the Silver Moth. “More grocery shoppin’ fer the blasted birds,” he kvetched.

“It’s either grocery shopping or not doing the contest entirely,” Wild Bill said. “And the second is hardly an option anymore.”

“Right, right, yer pride’s all been wounded, I get it,” Ratbeard said. He climbed aboard the Santo Oro. “But do ye really have to do this?! I say gettin’ the birds what they want’s more woundin’ than lyin’ down!”

“It’s been a while since we’ve done some good old raiding, Vermi,” Catbeard pointed out. “It’ll be fun pirating together again.” He hustled aboard the ship with Ratbeard.

“Yeah, yeah, th’only reason it’s been a while’s because we had to bust yer ass outta jail, kitty!” He rolled his eye at Catbeard and gave a crooked half-smile. So the banter was all in good fun, probably.

Jane nudged Billy in the side. “You know who they remind me of?”

“Who?” Billy asked.

“Duck and Big Bill.”

Billy made a face like he’d just eaten a lemon whole. “You’re kiddin’! They’re nothin’ like ‘em!”

Jane laughed. “Oh, they are, alright. Maybe you’ll see it when you’re older.” She patted him on the back. “C’mon, we’ve got work to do.”

The sun steadily climbed in the sky as the crew fought a handful of the vultures’ ships. Though the Silver Moths had just a fleet of two ships, their teamwork softened up the other ships like butter. Owen would board the other ships and ask to search for the crates of laurels. “That’s all I’m looking for. We can be chill,” they would assure. And when the vulture pirates decided to not be chill back and try to attack Owen, then the rest of the crew would get involved.

The crates soon began to stack up. By the time the eighth crate was recovered, the sun was firmly overhead.

“That’s all of them,” Buffalo Bill confirmed, counting them up.

“Finally!” Billy exclaimed. “Let’s get ta’ competin’!”

“Say, Barkle, you seem to know more about the contest than the rest of us,” Wild Bill said. “D’you happen to know what’t’ll ask of us?”

Barklementizov shook his head. “I can’t remember. I only know the general layout; three events, and the competitors are scored on how well they do in them. The winner is the person with the best score after all three.”

“Three events under one Contest,” Duck realized. “We have signed up for more than we bargained for. Well-” koff- “let the games begin, I say.”

The Seven rushed to Pindar. Owen took the lead, their wings abuzz. Barklementizov and Buffalo Bill were right beside them, keeping up. Billy was right behind, constantly looking back at Calamity and Wild Bill (and Holliday too, as much as Billy still wanted to keep mental distance from ‘im) and telling them to keep up. The three slowpokes were reserving their energy; they’d need it for the coming events, why waste it on a short mad dash?

“PINDAR!” Owen called, waving their arm high so Pindar could see them from a distance. “We got the laurels! The rest of my family’s unloading them right now at the docks, if you wanna get 'em. It’s too much for us to carry to you directly.” As they spoke, they made it right up to Pindar himself. The rest of the Seven followed in

Pindar nodded and checked off something on his tablet. “Well done. You lot may have the makings of a hero, after all.”

“More like the makings of your damn errandboys,” Billy scoffed, mostly to himself but still aloud.

“Billy, please,” Barkle asked. He understood that Billy was bitter and feeling disrespected, but he also knew that, as an outsider, standing up for oneself like that will only make one more hated.

Billy rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, but canned ‘imself.

Pindar looked up at the sun. It was past its zenith. “The contest has already begun. Are you sure you want to begin at a disadvantage?”

“Are you being polite, or going deaf?” Buffalo Bill asked. “We’ve said time and time again-”

“We will take on the contest and all the disadvantages,” Wild Bill cut in. Like Barkle, he knew civility had to take center-stage when talking with the Aquilans. They

“So be it,” Pindar said. He was beginning to have his doubts, letting all seven of these outsiders compete as one team. They couldn’t even control their sharpest tongues without reprimanding. But, they had done him a favor, so he had to let them in. “All heroes have to excel at defeating monsters. The first Contest is the Great Hunt. Report to Orion, in Calydonea. He will tell you more.”

Orion was easy enough to find. He stood on a rock outcropping in the fields of Calydonea, overlooking the gates to civilization in Achaean Sparta. He saw the Seven and some others approaching (Timmy wanted to come with the rest of the Seven, and Bonnie Anne volunteered to keep an eye on the kid while the Seven were doing… whatever it was they’d end up having to do), and waved them greetings and well-faring.

Owen waved back. “Hey! We’re here for the Contest!” they announced.

“The Contest, you say?” Orion asked. “I bid you beware, for I fear only the mightiest can hope to succeed.” He pointed to the cliffs, the caves within them, and the hills around them. “The monsters that haunt these hills are fearsome.”

“Do we look scared to you?” Calamity asked.

“We’ve seen our fair share of monsters,” Barkle assured. “No need to fear for us.”

Orion chuckled. “You are bold, outlanders, I’ll give you that. Very well, then! The first Contest is to hunt down a dread manticore. They lair in those very caves over there. When you’ve defeated one, take one of its claws to Pindar as a token of your victory.” He looked the crowd over. His gaze landed on Timmy and Owen. “I fear you may be doomed, but the Immortals favor the foolish, or so they say.”

Owen didn’t like that Orion was singling them and Timmy out.

“I’m not gonna be fighting,” Timmy said. “I’m just comin’ along for the ride!”

Orion gave the kid a gentle smile. “Well, youngster, you’d best listen to your… parents, alright?”

“I will!” Timmy chirped. “And miss Anne!” He took her hand.

The group set off through the fields. They made sure to give the monsters out and about plenty of space. If a pack of the manticores decided to pounce on them before they were ready…

Bonnie Anne noticed a set of tracks in the ground. The tracks matched the manticores’ paws, but were significantly bigger. “Look there,” she said, pointing the oversized tracks out. “I think those are the dread manticores’ prints. We can track ‘em from a distance to one of the caves.”

“Why thank you kindly, Anne,” Jane said, giving the fox a smile. “Lead on.”

Bonnie Anne took the lead. She kept her eyes trained on the tracks. They eventually led to a cave burrowing into the cliffs. “Here we are.”

Jane whistled a tense little tune as she looked into the cave.

All of the Seven, save for Timmy and Owen, tensed. They knew their friend’s song well. If Calamity Jane Canary was whistling such a worried warble, that meant this cave was trouble.

“Welp. Here we go,” Billy said. “Don’t’cha worry, Tims, we’ll be fine.”

“If you need an extra musket, call for me,” Bonnie Anne asked. “Your safety’s more important than the Contest.”

“We’ll call if it gets to that,” Owen promised. They hoped it didn’t.

“Y’all got this!” Timmy encouraged.

Owen led the Seven into the cave. Some regular manticores and one oversized one (no doubt the dread manticore in question) slept in the cave.

“If we’re-” koff- “stealthy, perhaps we can-” Duck tried to suggest. A big old bout of coughing seized him. Caves, dank and dusty as they were, were never good for his lungs.

The dread manticore woke up. It pushed itself to its paws and unfurled its wings. It let out a guttural, cranky roar. The smaller manticores woke up as well, seven of them in total.

“You were saying, Duck?” Buffalo Bill sassed.

“Come on! We’ve got a pack of manticores to take down!” Owen butted in. Now was no time for infighting, even if it were maybe teasing and lighthearted (though they really couldn’t tell, Bill sounded genuinely pissed to them). They readied their knife and pistol.

The rest of the Seven readied their weapons too. Even Barklementizov, who had no held weapon of his own, gathered his wits and magic.

“If we focus on the little ones one at a time, we defeat them quicker, and have less of them attacking us at once!” Owen strategized.

It was a good enough plan for most of the Seven. However, Buffalo Bill and Billy went against the plan. “We’ll soften the others up while y’all take out that one,” Billy said.

Duck had a feeling they were avoiding aiming for the same monster he was shooting down for more reasons than just strategy. The li’l gunslinger wasn’t one to follow through with a strategy like that.

The manticores were quite the threat! Eight vs seven. The dread manticore was all but unharmed as the smaller ones went down. The fight went on for far longer than Owen would’ve liked. The manticores’ claws were sharp, their teeth bit hard, and their tails stung like whips. Their healing magic couldn’t keep up.

The dread manticore was the only one left. It towered over all of the Seven, even Buffalo Bill. It reared onto its hind legs, standing even taller now, claws unsheathed and fangs bared. It brought its paws down on the nearest target-

“DUCK!” Owen shouted.

Duck couldn’t back away fast enough. The manticore cut a nasty set of gashes over his face. His left eye was clawed shut.

Panic peppered through Owen. They flew up and stabbed the dread manticore at the back of its throat. It whirled around in pain, its wings slapping Owen away. They lost their balance and fell, distant from everyone else.

“OWEN!” Barklementizov panicked. He flew after Owen, but the dread manticore bit at his wings. He fell down too.

Calamity ran towards the manticore. It’s distracted- oh fuck it’s distracted by Owen and Barkle- she can try and save Duck in the meantime!

Billy shot at the manticore as Calamity Jane made her daring move.

“Jane! Look out!” Wild Bill warned.

As Jane got close, the dread manticore hissed at her and tried to swat her aside. Its claws tore at her, but she was steady. She helped Duck up to his feet and hurried him to safety. “Duck, we gotcha. Bill, shield him. Billy, let’s raise hell. It’s after Owen and Barks!” She picked her musket back up. She and Billy then ran towards the dread manticore, guns blazing.

Wild Bill stepped in front of Duck. If the dread manticore dared to come back here, ideally it would target him and not Duck, being the closer and bigger and brighter of the two birds. Bill kept an eye and ear on Duck as well. “How bad is your eye?”

“Out of commission till it’s cleaned up,” Duck responded, coughing from fatigue. “I hope it’s not lost for good.”

Buffalo Bill had been trying to keep consistent fire trained on the dread manticore. It wasn’t enough to stop any of what’d just happened. It just took his hits and focused on the more vulnerable! He had no hope but to charge headlong! He tightened his musket’s bayonet and rushed to the manticore. “Get away from my calf!” he roared.

The dread manticore whipped its head to him. He plunged the bayonet into the manticore’s neck, piercing its throat. The beast’s blood burst from the wound. It flailed and flopped and fell in fury, only tearing its throat further open. It collapsed dead on the dusty cave floor.

Barklementizov ran to Owen as quickly as his legs could manage. He tried to help them sit up. “Are you alright?”

Owen, shaking, was not alright. They nodded anyway. “Any higher, and that fall might’ve done me in,” they said. They tried to laugh the pain away, but… god damn they were scared. They looked at the manticore’s corpse. Manticorpse. What if it wasn’t dead? What if it rose again?

Billy hung his sparklocks on his belt and dashed to Owen. He helped them stand. God. They were shiverin’ in his arms. “We gotcha, kid. That kitty ain’t so bad anymore.”

Owen felt something in them break. They held onto Billy’s hands and leaned against him. They looked around. Everyone was some sort of battered, bruised, or bloodied. Buffalo Bill was absolutely drenched. If Owen were any more emotionally sound they’d make a milk webkinz joke. Milk is just blood with extra steps. But no, they were in no state to do that right now. They couldn’t see Duck from where they were. “Where’s Duck?” they asked.

“I’m right here, peach,” Duck spoke up. He wiped the blood from his eye and made his way towards Owen. He glanced at Billy. Billy, one of the two who’d been so loud about his old blame on Duck. Billy, who’d never forgiven him before.

Billy looked back at Duck Holliday. He, god, he could’a been blinded. Or worse, killed. The Seven lost one already, years ago. They really can’t afford to lose another. Not even Duck.

Duck got a bit closer.

Owen pulled him into the hug. They cried into his shoulder.

Bonnie Anne and Timmy ran around a corner into the cave. “We heard the fighting get bad, is everyone-” Bon’s words dried in her mouth as she saw the battlefield. Manticores dead, the Magnificent Seven wounded, her captain and friend crying in Duck’s and Billy’s arms. “Oh, god.”

“Wh- What happened?” Timmy asked. He’d never seen anybody so… hurt. Let alone the Magnificent Seven! His idols, his family!

“We’re worse for wear, but we’re well enough,” Big Bill promised. “Please disregard the fact that I’m covered in blood.”

Owen lifted their head from Duck’s shoulder. When did Timmy get here? They wiped away their tears. “Hey, don’t worry about us, okay?” They gently pulled themself away from the hug, and grabbed their weapons from the floor; apparently they’d dropped them when they were knocked down. Knife in hand, they approached the manticore. “Let’s get this claw back to Pindar. We’ve got more Contests to win…”

While sailing back to Nova Aquila, everybody got themselves fixed up. Duck had to check in with Nurse Quinn for his eye (Quinn said he’d have to keep it shut while the skin healed, but thankfully he wasn’t going to lose it), and everybody needed their fair share of bandages, but everyone seemed to do well enough.

Owen needed some time away from everything, a bit of quiet to try and decompress. They lied in their hammock, letting the ship’s rocking calm them down. They held the dread manticore’s claw in their hands, turning it over and over like Duck and his poker chip. So much pain and frenzy for just one itty bitty claw. For one blasted contest.

Was it even worth it?

Owen’s right hand dropped to the brass badge pinned on their vest. Wyatt Chirp’s sheriff badge.

“Of course it’s gonna be worth it!” Owen argued with themself. “If we win the contest, the Aquilans will finally respect the Seven.” Their family’s reputation mattered most in this. If they backed out now… it’d probably reflect so badly on the Seven as a whole. They couldn’t do that; they would not besmirch the Seven by association.

Pindar awaited the Seven where he always was. He saw them coming up the hill, and the various bandages decorating their bodies. “Ah, you’ve returned,” he said. “Hard day?”

“Not in the slightest,” Duck answered, his voice level with cool confidence and his expression not holding the slightest bit of pain (well, besides the fresh cuts down his face). “We’ve got your manticore’s claw. Owen?”

Owen nodded and showed Pindar the claw.

“Oh!” Pindar gasped in surprise. “You actually did it! Unexpected, but well done. Though, I must warn you, there are two more contests left, and they’ll only grow more difficult.”

“Difficulty is our bread and butter,” Barkle assured. “You’ve no need to fear for us.”

“As you wish.” Pindar clacked his beak. “For the second Contest, bring back the Golden Laurel from Sparta. It’s the prize for the Archery contest.” He looked up at the sky. “You’re very late for it. I suggest you hurry.”

Barklementizov was starting to regret feigning such confidence. He couldn’t hold a bow at all, let alone fire one. And nobody else in the Seven was all too familiar with archery.

Buffalo Bill, however, was cooking up a little idea. “Oh, we’ll bring back that wreath,” he promised. He went down to the ship with a real hustle to his bustle, and everyone followed

After boarding the Silver Moth, Wild Bill decided to check in. “Now that we’re outta earshot… you seem to be planning something.”

Buffalo chuckled. “Pindar never said anything about us winning any competition. Just that we have to retrieve the prize.”

“But how are we gonna get the prize without, y’know, winning the contest for the prize?” Owen asked.

“Easy. We get the winner to put it up for a bet.”

“Is it really gonna be that easy?” Jane asked.

“Pride is the Eagles’ greatest failing,” Duck said. He twirled his little mustache and fidgeted with his favorite poker chip. “If we stroke their ego enough, it’ll blind them.”

“Ooh, it’s been a while since I swindled someone!” Billy chuckled, almost nostalgic for his old outlaw days. Almost. “This’ll be fun!”

The docks of Achaean Sparta had become more crowded than it had been when the Seven had left it after fighting the dread manticore. “Looks like they’re all still hangin’ around after the contest,” Jane said, watching the crowd from the deck of the ship.

“Splendiferous,” Buffalo Bill said. “Our wreath-bearer is likely still in there.”

“Let us not waste another minute, then!” Barkle said. He flew over towards Owen at the wheel. The ship suddenly lurched under him for a second, then studdered to a halt.

“SHIT-” Owen yelped. “Sorry, everyone! Meant to drop anchor, not hit the gas!”

Most of the crew on-deck tried to stand back up. Subodai could only lie on the deck. “You’re starting to sail like me, Owen!” he joked, his booming laughter bubbling up from him.

“Gods, I sure hope not!” Owen laughed back.

The Magnificent Seven all got off at the docks. Tims came with, holding Owen’s and Billy’s hands.

Big Bill led the way. The crowds parted around him to give him and the Seven enough space to walk. He caught sight of an Eagle wearing the Golden Laurel Wreath. Jackpot. “Yo!” he called to her. “You, miss, with the wreath!”

She caught sight of him as well. “Oh, a fresh face!” She saw the rest of the Seven come out from behind him. “Have you all come for the Archery contest?” she asked. “I’d heard there’d be a group of seven barbarians competing. You’re too late, though. I’ve won it.”

“Oh, well if that ain’t a shame,” Calamity Jane said, with a slight Western belle’s pout in her voice. Completely for the act’s sake. “Still, I reckon it were for the best. Archery ain’t really our kind of shooting, y’see.”

“I wouldn’t be able to hold a bow in the first place,” Barklementizov added.

“Our skillsets are likely so wildly different from each other,” Wild Bill began, “that it begs the question on who’s truly the best shootist.”

The Eagle’s cocky expression faltered. She gripped her bow tightly. “You doubt my prowess?”

“Certainly not,” Duck assured. “You’ve earned that laurel-” koff- “versus the many other archers, fair and square. But I-” koff- “I reckon, why not give us a… fighting chance as well?”

“It could be fun, too!” Timmy chirped.

“A fighting chance, you say?” the Eagle asked. “Fine then. Surely barbarians like yourselves can fight, at least. I’ll duel the best of you, then.”

“What, just one of us?” Billy goaded. “Are you scared you can’t take us all at once? Surely you and your high-falutin Aquilan training makes ya think you’re the best of the best, yea?”

“Of course I’m not scared!” the Eagle snapped. “If anything, dueling only one of you is for your sakes than mine. It’s less of an embarrassment to you if only one of your group loses to me, rather than all of you at once!” She forced out a haughty laugh. She took an arrow from her quiver and pointed it at the group. “I’ll tell you what! I’m so certain I could beat you, no matter your skills and numbers, that I’ll bet my wreath on it! I’ll give it to you- if you can beat me.”

Owen grabbed onto the arrow’s shaft. Their cue in all this was clear as day. “You bet!” They and the Eagle went into the shooting range. “For extra fairness’s sake, let’s give each other some space. Start back to back, ten seconds of walking from each other, then we go all out.”

“A formality,” the Eagle said. “I don’t see why not.” She went back to back with them.

Timmy climbed up onto the fence. Buffalo Bill held him steady. “I’ll do the countdown!” he volunteered from a distance.

Owen and the Eagle nodded.

Timmy counted loud and steadily. “ONE! TWO! THREE!”

Step, step, step.

“FOUR! FIVE! SIX!”

The Eagle archer notched the first arrow into her bow.

“SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE!”

Owen gripped their pistol and knife.

“TEN PACES! FIRE!”

Owen turned on their heel and tried for some quick shots at the archer’s shoulder. She can’t shoot if her arm’s busted.

She dodged the shots nimbly enough and let her prepared arrow fly. It nicked Owen’s ear, missing their shoulder by a fair margin. So, she had the same strategy as them. Incapacitation over straight up murder. The eagle wasn’t trying to kill Owen.

“You got this, Owen!” Jane cheered.

The eagle shot some more arrows, aiming for Owen’s leg. The arrow stuck into them.

Owen leaned on their good leg. They aimed for her nearer arm.

The eagle flinched at the shot, scattering her arrows from her quiver.

Now’s their chance! Owen rushed in, knife at the ready. They stabbed her side. Again, steering clear of any vital organs. Not trying to kill. Just wound. Defeat.

The eagle grabbed a cluster of the arrows and tried to backhand Owen as she scampered to her feet. Owen blocked the cluster with their knife’s blade. It cut through the arrows’ shafts.

The eagle dusted herself off and rushed away from Owen.

Owen shot the eagle’s leg. A bit of true grit from them, bearing the pain and returning it equal. It’s not like they could heal the wound. No doubt the eagles would call magic in a nonmagical duel cheating.

The eagle fell. “Why, you barbarian!” she spat.

“You did the same to me! Fair’s fair!” Owen called out.

“Yeah, you tell ‘er!” Billy shouted from the sidelines.

“Stay steady!” Duck advised.

Owen twirled the pistol around their triggerfinger, a trick Billy taught em, and shot once more at the Eagle. The shot burst from the barrel, flashy more than real damage.

The Eagle reached for another arrow in her quiver. Her eyes went wide as she realized something that she hoped the kid wouldn’t pick up on. She’s only got one arrow left. The rest of her arrows were either cut in half or still scattered on the ground from her first fall. She aimed for Owen’s chest, desperate to not lose like this.

Owen’s eyes went wide. They tried to dodge the arrow. It dug into their arm. Better that than any of their guts or lungs or heart!

“She ran out of arrows, Owen!” Wild Bill called.

The Eagle gave Wild Bill a furious glare.

Owen walked up towards the Eagle, calming down from the fight. “Well, ain’t that quite a predicament?” they asked. They leaned into a bit of a Western accent for funsies. “Like, golly flippin’ gee willikers, it seems you can’t do much to attack me anymore.”

Timmy gasped. “SKILL ISSUE!” Uproarious laughter came from the rest of the Seven.

Owen brought their hand to their mouth to tamp down their laughter. They were still talking with their opponent, they can’t completely lose face. “Meanwhile, I could keep attacking. I won’t, cuz that’s not fair, but… I think it’s clear to me who wins, yea?”

“Fuck you,” the Eagle spat. “This damn duel, this was your intention from the start, wasn’t it!? You, and your barbarian friends.”

Owen raised their knife. “Hey now.” Their voice dropped. Their playfulness gave out. “Please don’t call my family barbarians. Now, can I kindly have that wreath of yours? You did bet on it.” They glanced at the rest of the Seven. Buffalo Bill gave them a giant thumbs up.

With a huff, the Eagle unceremoniously put her golden wreath on Owen’s outstretched arm.

Owen put their weapons away, put the wreath on their head, and gave the Eagle a bright smile with a few too many teeth (for good measure). “Thank you!~” They skipped over to the Seven.

Buffalo Bill picked Owen up in the air. “You were outstanding out there!” he cheered. “What phenomenal pugilistic prowess! A stellar show! I daresay I’m running out of words!” He put them on his shoulders.

“If you’re running outta words, I guess that’s how I know it must’ve been great!” Owen laughed from the pure joy of it all. Oh, they felt they were on top of the world! And in a way, they were. They were on Big Bill’s shoulders. “And you all were great too!” They looked down at Timmy. “Quick question, Tims. Skill issue!?”

“Billy taught me that,” Timmy answered, pointing at him.

“I sure as hell did NOT teach you that!” Billy protested.

“Are you sure you didn’t just-” koff- “say it in front of him, at one point?” Duck asked.

Billy opened his mouth to retort, but, yeah no that totally sounded like him lol. He didn’t remember everythin’ he said, let alone everyone who was around when he said said everythin’.

“Come on, let’s get back to Pindar,” Jane said. “We’ve got one more contest to get over with!”

“PIIIIINDAAAAAAAR!” Owen hollered as they and the rest of the Magnificent Seven rushed to him. They held the golden wreath against their head so it wouldn’t fall off. “WEGOTTHEGOLDENWREATH!”

Pindar looked up at the Seven. “Pardon?” he asked. He had already gotten news of the winner of the archery contest, and it certainly wasn’t the Seven.

“We got the golden wreath!” Owen repeated themself.

“Now wait a moment,” Pindar said. “You did not win it from the archery contest. I’m afraid such fraud must disqualify you all.”

“But-” Owen started.

Buffalo Bill put his hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Allow me.” He stepped towards Pindar. The rest of the Seven took a step away from him. He lifted his musket and slammed the wooden end against the cobblestone path. “Now just one minute, Pindar,” he growled. He took a step closer to the Eagle, towering over him. “You never told us to win the archery contest. You only told us to bring back the golden wreath, and this we have done, by thunder!” He let his shout echo off into the distance before continuing. “Do you intend on keeping your word and playing this contest fairly, or do you only wish to bend over backwards so only Eagles can win!?”

“I- er-” Pindar stuttered for an answer. Buffalo Bill was meaner than any man or beast he had ever seen before. “I-I suppose exceptions c-could be made, ag-again. Rules… bent. You all may n-not have the blood of Eagles, yes, but you are c-cunning as Ulysses himself. The terms of the Contest can still be honored.”

“There. Now was that so difficult?” Buffalo Bill asked, his demeanor becoming sunny as a paper daisy as if he hadn’t just been verbally storming over another man. He picked up his musket and held it safely by his side.

So this was what everyone meant when they said Buffalo Bill was meaner than a mountain lion, Owen realized. Holy crap. They had never seen that side of him before. Was that even another side to him? He seemed like an entirely different person. Not the Big Bill they knew and loved.

They didn’t ever want to see that side of him again.

“Certainly not-” Pindar gulped. He tried to “Anyway, the last Contest is a footrace all over Illios. Whoever can find the most golden apples scattered throughout the land by sunset wins.”

The Seven all looked at each other. Everyone except for Billy and Owen had a concerned look. They were old, and weren’t fit for something as strenuous as a race. Billy the Kid, however, just looked annoyed. “Oh bother,” he said, rolling his eyes. “This’ll be fun.”

“Indeed,” Duck wheezed before coughing for five seconds on end. Wild Bill gave him a few sturdy but gentle pats on his back. “I can hardly contain my glee…” Duck continued his thought. “Thanks, Bill.”

“‘Course.” Wild Bill took a breath. “We’re in this deep into the contest. I don’t think our prides will let us back out now.”

“I just hope there’s another way to finish it besides running,” Barkle said. He swung his small taloned legs. “My legs are far too small…”

“We’ll find a way,” Owen promised. The way they had in mind was doing the race themself (they didn’t mind, they like running :D), but maybe something will come up and there’ll be a way for everyone else to get involved without hurting themselves. Owen could only hope.

In Illios, the Magnificent Seven found Atalanta, the Eagle managing the final event. She had a bow slung over her shoulder, a quiver of arrows at her hip, and a wax tablet and stylus like Pindar in her hands. She was managing this final event in the Contest.

“‘Scuse me!” Jane called, waving at Atalanta. “Miss Atalanta, was it? We’re here for the Contest of Champions!”

Atalanta looked up from her tablet. “Another pack of runners? You’re very late, I’m afraid. Most of the apples had been taken. Why, I doubt there are any left in the regular course at all.”

“That implies there are some apples left-” koff- “in more unconventional places,” Duck mentioned. “If we were to press on against all wisdom, where would we look?”

Atalanta brought a finger (feather?) to her chin. “The only other place where I’d find the golden apples are in the Ettin caves, to the north.” She pointed out the way. “You’d have to fight them for it, of course.”

“And just how many do we gotta collect to beat first place?” Billy asked.

“The current leader, Philipides, has… six apples,” Atalanta answered, checking her tablet. “The event officially ends at sundown. I don’t envy the task you’ve set for yourselves, but the Immortals favor the foolish, or so they say.”

“Or so we’ve heard,” Buffalo Bill said. “Thank you. We’ll be well on our way.”

As the Magnificent Seven went northward to the Ettin caves, Owen couldn’t help but chuckle to themselves at the funny little coincidence.

“What’s gotcha so giggly all of a sudden?” Billy asked.

“Oh, I was just thinking, we gotta get more than six apples, which means we gotta get seven. One for the each of us!” Owen explained.

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Barklementizov admitted.

“Well, isn’t that a fun coincidence?” Wild Bill asked. He couldn’t help but chuckle along too.

“Almost feels like fate…” Buffalo Bill remarked. Seven apples for the Magnificent Seven, The Seven were together again, sailing all over the Spiral… but it didn’t feel quite as whole as before Wyatt’s death. And, indeed, that gaping emptiness was his fault. He kept the wound open, still staying distant from Holliday. Closing the gap between them would be too painful and take too much effort now. Bill had to reserve his energy for this confounded contest.

But were they not doing this contest for the entire Seven’s sake in the first place? Not just each member’s individual pride, but for their collective honor. For their history as a team. They were heroes together, and this damn contest was to prove it to the Eagles.

Maybe to prove it to themselves and each other, too.

The namesake ettins in the Ettin caves were nasty, big ol’ brutes, with double the heads and half the brain cells. “Hey, listen up, ya two-headed turkeys!” Billy shouted. “We need your golden apples! If you give ‘em nice an’ quiet like, there’ll be no trouble.”

“We’ll even give them back if you’re nice about it!” Owen interjected.

One of the ettins readied their club. “CRUSH THE LITTLE ONES! CRUSH THEM ALL!” their heads thundered.

“You tried,” Wild Bill assured Owen.

“Yeah, I did…” Owen shrugged. “Guess we gotta do it the hard way.” They readied their weapons, and hoped that these ettins wouldn’t be nearly as difficult as the dread manticore.

Owen’s hope came true. The ettins were tough to defeat, but often their two heads wanted to do different things at once, which only made them weaker. If one head wanted to attack Barkle and Owen flying around their heads and getting what melee hits they could, and another wanted to charge at the rest of the Seven firing at them from all around, the ettin would flounder around and accomplish neither.

The metaphor wasn’t lost on Buffalo Bill. He stood by Duck’s side, protecting his blind spot.

Duck turned his head and looked up at Bill. His behavior confounded him. He had to wonder, what was Bill up to, choosing to stand next to him in all this?

Bill caught Duck’s gaze, and then immediately glanced away. He wasn’t ready to be quite face-to-face with Duck Holliday yet. An ettin was conveniently in his new line of sight, an excuse.

The tension and bond between the two didn’t go unnoticed. Between shots, Jane nudged Billy the Kid in the side. “Y’see?” she asked.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Billy gasped.

The hours ticked down, the orange light of the sunset outside pouring into the caves.. The apple count ticked up. Soon enough, everyone had a golden apple in their pocket (or, in Barkle’s case, his talons). “Finally!” he cheered. “That’s all seven apples. Let’s get our prize, before it’s too late!”

The Magnificent Seven rushed from the cave. The lights from Owen’s antennae started to brighten the area around them, as the day darkened. As they all approached the camp, Owen hollered, “ATALANTA!! WE GOT THE APPLES!”

Atalanta’s eyes widened. She looked at the setting sun. “You’re all just in time. I’m amazed! I won’t be able to send the news to Pindar faster than you can sail. Take the apples to him directly.”

“Sure!” Owen chirped. “Thank you!”

While on the ship, Owen realized something. “I promised to return the apples back to the ettins, didn’t I?” they asked.

“You said you’d return the apples if they were nice about giving them to you,” Wild Bill remembered. “And they weren’t.”

“Oh yea, I forgot I said that bit. Thanks. I don’t feel bad about it anymore.”

“Always.”

Miraculously for the entire Seven, Pindar hadn’t gone too far from his usual perch. Owen ran to him as fast as they could while holding all of the apples themself (they’d gotten worried at the last minute that if everyone held one apple, Pindar wouldn’t count it as seven apples collected, but just one for each). “PINDAR! WE WON!” they shouted.

Pindar blinked. “Pardon?”

“We’ve finished the final contest!” Barklementizov explained, flying past Owen.

“Seven apples, more than the previous leader,” Jane announced. Her voice shone with pride. Owen tried to hold the apples further up in their arms to really show them off. The light from their antennae reflected off the apples’ golden skin.

“Atalanta told us to report to you directly,” said Buffalo Bill.

“I cannot believe it,” Pindar gasped. “The contest is won by a pack of outlanders this year!”

“We told you it was possible,” Wild Bill said with a proud little smile.

“So, about that prize?” Billy asked

“Yeah, the prize!” Timmy chirped, bouncing up and down in excitement while holding onto Billy’s hand. “Give them the prize! They earned it!”

“Ah, yes, the prize.” Pindar cleared his throat. He looked to Owen. “Child. Owen, was it?”

“Uh- Yes, that’s me, hi,” Owen said. They were very confused.

“Because you have presented all of the tokens for the three Contests, Owen, you have won the right to climb the peaks of Achaea and sacrifice yourself to Typhon the Terror. Your virtuous death will keep Aquila safe for another year.”

“WHAT-” the Magnificent Seven all shouted. Owen dropped their apples. Timmy clung onto Owen’s side. Wild Bill put a hand on Owen’s shoulder and his tail feathers rustled up. Barklementizov put his wing in front of Owen. Duck gripped his poker chip so hard his knuckles went white. Billy pointed his sparklocks at Pindar. Jane slammed the wood end of her musket onto the cobblestone. Buffalo Bill’s voice thundered.

“The fuck you mean that’s the prize?!” Billy stormed.

“This is a joke, right? This has to be!” Barkle begged.

Pindar shook his head. “That is the prize. If you refuse, Owen, you’ll be reviled as a liar and a coward through the empire.”

Owen shook their head. They put one arm around Timmy and held him close. They stared up at Pindar. “No. I refuse both options. I’m not a coward, I’m not gonna drag my family into that reputation with me, and I’m not going to die. I’ll… fight Typhon myself if I have to!” It was an outrageously bold outburst. Owen had no idea how they were gonna fight Typhon, they just knew they had to say something.

“You won’t be alone, Owen,” Wild Bill promised.

“We’ll fight Typhon with you,” Jane insisted.

Pindar could not believe the Seven’s determination. “It’s impossible. Typhon is invincible,” he warned.

“We’ll see about that,” Duck vowed.

“Perhaps the inventor, Daedalus, may have an idea to better our odds,” Buffalo Bill strategized. “We should go see him.”

Owen was relieved that their parents were there for them, and could keep a cooler head than they themself could ever. They noticed Timmy was still tense against them. “Hey, Timmy, let’s go back to the ship, yeah?” they offered him. “We can chill in my cabin. I’ll stay with you.”

Timmy nodded.

Owen nodded back. They then looked to the rest of the Seven. “When y’all have a plan, come find me?”

“We won’t come back ‘til we get a plan outta the ol’ bird,” Billy promised.

It wasn’t terribly long until the adults of the Magnificent Seven came back to the Silver Moth. Jane knocked on the door to Owen’s cabin. “You in there, darlin’?”

“Yeah, we’re here,” Owen called from inside. They and Timmy were sitting on the floor of the cabin. They had a ukulele in their lap, and Timmy was nestled under their arm. “The door’s unlocked.”

Jane stepped in. “We’ve got ourselves a gameplan. Daedalus mentioned a magic charm that’d protect us from Typhon’s magic.”

Owen smiled. “Great! Thanks so much.” They then looked down at Tims. “See? I told you they’d come up with a plan.”

“Yeah, you did say that, didn’t’ya?” Timmy asked.

“We’ll have to make a quick stop at Illios to get it,” Jane continued. “Are you gonna take the wheel, or should I find someone else?”

“Someone else! Please?” Timmy begged, looking up at Owen with the sweetest eyes known to birdkind.

Owen chuckled and nuzzled their head against his. They then looked up at Jane. “You simply must understand my predicament. There is a child nested in my arms. There’s no way I can sail.”

Jane chuckled as well. “Makes sense. I’ll come back when we’ve docked.” She closed the door.

Soon enough, the Silver Moth docked at Illios. Jane knocked on the door again. “Owen? We’re here.”

Owen finished strumming their song. “Give me a minute?” they asked. Timmy had fallen asleep in their arms. They didn’t want to wake him up. They put down their ukulele, picked Timmy up, and put him in their hammock. Once he was tucked in, they opened the door. “Timmy fell asleep. I had to put him in my hammock.”

“That’s alright. You all set to go?”

Owen nodded. They glanced back at their cabin. “Should I tell him that we’re going? If something goes wrong…”

Jane shook her head. “Let him sleep. We’ll be fine.”

Owen snuffed the magic lights around their cabin and got off the Silver Moth. The rest of the Seven had been waiting for Owen and Jane on the docks. “So,” Owen asked, “what exactly is the plan? Where do we get this charm from?”

“The last person to have the Aegis- the charm we need to find- was last known to be in a cave system here,” Barklementizov answered. “He and his legion hadn’t come out. I wouldn’t be surprised to find their undead spirits there.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Owen agreed. “Give me a sec, I gotta get some gear really quick.” They flew back onto their ship and silently went into their cabin. From a lockbox in their closet, they grabbed a few items that they’d once been given by their uncle Thanatos: a cloak, a helmet (“head protection is key for meat jenga towers like yourself” Thanatos would always say), and a scythe. They donned that reaper-gear and came back out. “Alright,” they said to the rest of the Seven. “I’m ready now.”

Duck chuckled. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”

“Let’s go,” Buffalo Bill suggested. “The quicker we get the Aegis, the quicker we can be finished with this Typhon tomfoolery.”

The Seven followed a map that Daedalus gave them. The caves were a bit of a trek away from the docks, deeper inland in Illios than the Ettin caves were. Soon, they all came upon the caves Cadmus had disappeared into.

Barklementizov took a deep breath. He hesitated outside the cave. “Here we go…” he murmured.

Owen tilted their head. They hadn’t heard him so… apprehensive? Tired? Emotions are hard to name. “What’s up?”

“I’m just tired of all the caves, don’t worry about me,” Barkle assured Owen.

Owen frowned. They absolutely will worry about him. They went in, and everyone else followed them. Their antennae lit the way.

The caves were teeming with shade remnants of Cadmus’s legion. Jane whistled in shock. “Well ain’t this the sorriest cave I’ve ever seen?”

“Not as sorry as those undead,” Wild Bill remarked.

“Right… let me,” Owen offered. They held their scythe at the ready and approached the legion. They gently touched the shoulders of every spirit they could with their scythe’s blade. “I spare you all from this cave. Move on. Be free, gentle souls…” The shades dissolved into nothingness. Owen sighed heavily.

“Dang, you make it look easy,” Billy quipped. They really didn’t, Billy could see the emotion mounting on their shoulders, but he wanted to help them feel calm and confident. “How’d ya even learn that magic?”

“Oh, uh, Thanatos is my uncle,” Owen explained. Their own shoulders relaxed. Billy was always lighthearted about everything, wasn’t he? “He had a water allergy, so he made me a reaper to help out in Celestia.”

Billy laughed. “A water allergy? I’m not even gonna begin to ask how that works.”

Owen couldn’t help but laugh along with Billy. The idea of a water allergy was quite silly, now that Owen thought about it out of context. They smiled.

“I see Cadmus’s spirit around the bend,” Barklementizov butted in. He pointed the way with his wing.

“Great. Lead the way,” Owen invited.

Barkle led the rest of the Seven around the bend. The light from Owen’s antennae filled the chamber. Cadmus’s spirit stood, shield and spear at the ready. He glowered at the Seven.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to reap him as easily as the others,” Owen worried.

“We’ll keep his attention on us,” Duck offered. He drew his pistol and shot at Cadmus.

The shade turned his head to Duck. His red eyes glowed with hatred.

Duck glanced at the others. “What’s with the holdup? We’ve got a spirit to pester.”

The Magnificent Seven fanned out into a line, Duck in the center, Wild Bill, Jane, and Owen to his right, which left Buffalo Bill, Billy, and Barkle to his left. The five musketeers shot at Cadmus, trying to get his attention with the damage and the brightness of their shots. Barkle and Owen ran towards Cadmus, flanking him.

“CADMUS! OVER HERE!” Barkle shouted. It felt weird for Barkle to shout in combat, but it was his best way to serve as a distraction since he couldn’t fire a gun himself.

Owen silently rushed to Cadmus as his head was turned and his focus was shattered. They slashed through his shadowy form. He vanished into mist and nothingness. A necklace dropped from where he stood.

“We’ve got the Aegis now,” Jane said. She picked it up. “Typhon, here we come!”

They sailed to Achaea and climbed the peaks to Typhon’s lair. It was the dead of night by now. Only by the peachy light from Owen’s antennae and the reflection off of Barkle’s silver eyes could the Seven navigate through the wilds.

If Owen had a nickel for every undead-filled cave they had to venture into in the past four hours, they would have two nickels, which wasn’t a lot, but it was concerning that it happened twice now.

“Mercy!” Buffalo Bill gasped as he saw the undead. He brought his free hand to his heart. “It’s Miranda all over again!”

“Typhon’s victims…” Owen realized.

“So many people sacrificed…” Barkle lamented.

“We’ve come this far,” Duck said. “Let’s get this job done. Owen, can you do the honors?”

“Of course.” Owen stepped forward and reaped all of the souls they could. They were starting to grow tired. They couldn’t tell if the exhaustion was all emotional, or if the day was dragging on too long for them.

Owen shook themself out. They had to stay strong. It was nearly the end of the quest now. They could feel it. “We’re coming for you, Typhon!” they declared.

Typhon’s growls echoed off the walls of the caves.

“Ooh, he’s cranky!” Billy jeered.

“He’s almost as bad as Buffalo in the mornings,” Jane joked.

“Hey,” Buffalo Bill said.

“Come on! This way!” Barkle said, following the echoes of Typhon’s roars.

“Wait up!” Wild Bill called.

The Seven ran down the twisting caves to Typhon. The great serpent, father of all Aquilan monsters, with blood as hot as the Titans running in his veins. Typhon rose upright. He stared down the group: six mortals, and one child in Thanatos’s gear. “Child of Thanatos,” he hissed, focusing his gaze on Owen, “your interference is futile. This band of Aquila’s champions will die by my fires, not by your scythe.”

“Nobody is dying here,” Jane insisted.

“Nobody besides you, that is!” Billy shouted.

“Now hold still, Typhon, and this won’t hurt a bit,” Duck promised.

Typhon unsheathed his swords and unhinged his jaw. Fire gathered in his maw, bright and boiling.

“HUDDLE UP!” Jane shouted. The Magnificent Seven huddled together.

Typhon spat fire at the mortals. His fires bent around them. Damned Aegis, protecting them from his flames! He had other weapons at his disposal, at least. He slithered towards them at breakneck speeds.

“OH NO YOU DON’T!” Wild Bill shouted. He took some quick shots at Typhon, leaning to the side to not hit any of his friends.

Typhon raised his swords and slashed at the group. Buffalo Bill blocked one strike with his musket. He shoved the sword off to the side and rammed his bayonet into Typhon’s arm. The second strike cut into Billy’s arm. Owen raised their scythe and hooked Typhon’s second arm down.

Typhon pulled his arm free from the scythe, but the pain kept eating into him.

“Now!” Duck called.

The Magnificent Seven tore into Typhon. Owen’s scythe, knife, and pistol. Duck’s revolver. Billy’s twin sparklocks. Jane’s musket. Buffalo Bill’s bayonet. Wild Bill’s rifle. Barklementizov’s magic.

Typhon was relentless, but the Seven overwhelmed him with their attacks. Mortal as they all were, they still chipped into him until eventually, he flinched away, unable to bear all the pain. “I yield! Damn you all!” he hissed.

Owen brought their scythe to Typhon’s shoulder. The blade curved around and behind his neck. “I’m gonna make one simple demand. Vow you’ll not take another sacrifice. Aquilans are rude jerks, but none of them deserve to die for your hunger or for Aquila’s ego.”

“FINE!” Typhon spat. “I swear upon the Gods I won’t take another sacrifice from their Contest of Champions.” He slithered out from Owen’s scythe and curled up into a disappointed coil. “Now get out of here, before I decide to kill you all for being here.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Billy teased.

“He would,” Wild Bill warned. “We should leave while we have the chance.”

The Magnificent Seven left Typhon’s cave and slowly trekked their way back to the Silver Moth. The sun began to rise, peachy pink above the Achean mountain range.

Ondeck, Owen asked the rest of the Seven, “Should we tell Pindar what we’ve done, or go to sleep?”

“Eh, fuck Pindar,” Billy said.

“That Contest was-” koff- “bothersome, tiresome, and tedious. I will take any excuse to be done with it,” Duck admitted.

“But, we did so much for it,” Owen said. They were confused. “Shouldn’t we get credit?”

“We don’t need their credit,” Barklementizov said. “It’s no use bending over backwards to gain the approval of people who try so hard to kick you down.”

“Wait, did y’all… not want to do the Contest?” Owen asked.

“We wanted to do it to salvage our own prides, but I think we all got something more important out of it,” Jane said. “I promise, it wasn’t a waste. We’re just tired.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pass out for sixteen hours,” Buffalo Bill said. As he went down to his cabin belowdeck, he raised a peace sign up. “Goodnight. Love y’all.”

#pirate101 #the magnificent seven #duck holliday #buffalo bill #billy the kid #calamity jane canary #wild bill peacock #bat masterson #<- it feels so weird tagging his canon name.#pittyober 2022 #pittyober2022 #i wrote a thing!#intertwined au

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calwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Star Star Tours

Summary: You and Sebastian have been dating for a while now, but the public doesn’t know that yet. Keeping your secret causes some tension on James Corden’s Star Star Tours.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x actress!reader

This is my first time writing for Marvel, so I hope people enjoy! It’s just something that I wrote really quick, but I love the bus tour video, and I thought this could be a cute story. Also, Sebastian was not in nearly enough of the disposable camera pictures.

It was no secret that press tours could be draining. Being stuck in a room for multiple days while people keep asking you the same questions over and over again even though they know that you can’t really answer them. And considering how big Infinity War is, it was no surprise that there were even more interviews than usual.

That was why you had been so excited when you had heard about James Corden’s bus tour. Getting to spend the day outside, surrounded by some of your costars, sounded like a vacation compared to being stuck in a chair all day. There was no doubt in your mind that it would be chaos. Of course, you would do you best to add to that chaos.

Still, as you glanced over at your boyfriend, you thought that maybe press tours weren’t all that bad. You and Sebastian had met while filming Civil War, but you hadn’t really talked much. Sebastian was pretty quiet, and you had worried that he found your loudness annoying, so you had focused on befriending your costars who seemed more receptive to your large personality.

It wasn’t until the press tour that you actually got to know Sebastian. You weren’t sure if you had been partnered with Sebastian and Anthony because someone thought Anthony might ease your nerves about your first Marvel press tour or if they hoped being stuck with two people as outgoing as you and Anthony might force Sebastian out of his shell. Either way, the three of you had been a hit that press tour. More importantly, Sebastian had asked you out shortly after Civil War premiered.

The two of you had been dating ever since. It had made interviews a bit difficult for both of you though. You had decided to keep your relationship private. In theory, you were going to go public after a few months, but the two of you had enjoyed having a part of your lives that was actually private. It was a surprise that no one had let it slip, considering both Tom Holland and Mark Ruffalo knew about the relationship. Still, it was hard ignoring dating rumors every time someone thought you must be with whatever costar you had smiled at that week.

“What are you thinking about?” Sebastian asked, glancing at you before looking back the road. He took one hand off the wheel and grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers.

“Nothing.” You knew that Sebastian wouldn’t buy it. Not when he had seen your goofy grin.

“Nothing? Wanna try again?”

“What if we went to the premiere together?” You kept your eyes on your hand, still entwined with Sebastian’s.

“Like together together?” Sebastian took his hand back so he could turn into the parking lot of the studio. You tried not to notice the slight frown that he wore as he thought about your idea.

“We don’t have to. It’s just that it’s been almost two years. I thought it could be a good time. Maybe everyone will be so focused on the movie that we wouldn’t be big news.” Sebastian didn’t answer as he parked. You could already see a producer rushing over to the car, no doubt to get your ready for the tour. “You don’t have to answer now. Let’s just enjoy the tour and we can talk about it later.”

Sebastian nodded in agreement and the two of you climbed out of the car and made your way over towards the bus.

After you got your mic and everything, you climbed up to the top of the bus, where James gave you a name tag after doing a little bit. Immediately, you rushed to the front row and took the seat next to Lizzie. The two of you had clicked immediately while filming Civil War, and she had been one of your best friends ever since.

You noticed that Sebastian waited for a few more people to get on before he climbed on and took a seat at the back next to Winston. You tried not to read too much into the fact that he was sitting as far away from you as possible. It was possible, probable even, that he was keeping his distance just so neither of you slipped up on camera. It was a tactic you used quite often. But it was also possible that you had freaked him out when you proposed going public and now he was going to avoid you.

Shaking off the doubts in your head, you picked up the disposable camera that you had been given and started snapping pictures as everyone settled in. To your relief, Sebastian gave you a smile and a small wave when you pointed the camera at Paul and Letitia, catching him in the background. Before it could descend into total chaos, the bus began moving and the tour started.

You and Lizzie almost died laughing when Benedict had to put sunscreen on James’s legs, but he had a point. “Does anyone need face sunscreen?” you asked, waving the bottle of face sunscreen that you had thrown in your purse at the last minute. Very pointedly, you turned to Benedict and Hiddleston. “I’m looking at you two.”

“We get it, Y/N,” Anthony yelled from the back. “You’re a mom friend.” You stuck your tongue out in reply, mainly because flipping him off didn’t seem very TV friendly. Nevertheless, your sunscreen got passed around the bus. Paul tried to give it back to you without putting any on, claiming that he didn’t need any, which resulted in you and Lizzie basically wrestling him and putting it on his face yourselves. The laugh died in your throat as you began turning back to the front and caught sight of Sebastian’s grumpy face. You raised your eyebrows, but he looked away.

“What’s up with him?” Lizzie asked quietly. Apparently she had seen his expression too. You could only hope that no camera had caught it.

“Tell you later.” You tapped slightly on your mic and Lizzie nodded.

Luckily James began the tour before you could dwell on it any more. Between Don’s exaggerated pose when he took a picture of the coffee shop, getting into trouble with James for being “disruptive,” and the singalong, which you got way too into, you had almost forgotten about Sebastian’s stormy expression.

“This is actually Barbara Streisand’s holiday home,” James said, pointing at some strange, red building. “She actually designed it herself.”

“Is that true, Josh?” you called, spinning around so you could face him.

Josh shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Well what do you know? You’re just the bad guy. You’re just trying to cause trouble,” James complained.

“She’s his stepmom, so I think I trust him a bit more than you, James. Sorry.” You shrugged innocently at him before turning back around the air high five Josh. Again, as you were turning back to the front, you caught Sebastian’s eye. He was basically glaring at you.

“What?” you mouthed at him, which of course everyone behind you saw, causing them to turn to look at Sebastian too.

“Y/N, I am trying to give a tour, and you are being disruptive once again. I need eyes up front please.”

“But James,” you whined, huffing in your seat like a little kid, “Sebastian keeps looking at me. Tell him to stop.”

“Sebastian, I need all eyes on me, please. I am the reason you all paid to be here-”

“We have to pay for this?” Hiddleston asked, but James continued as if he hadn’t said anything.

“-so I need you to stop looking at Y/N and pay attention to me.”

“I didn’t even look at her. What am I not allowed to look around now?” Sebastian answered a bit too hotly. There was a brief moment where you could feel everyone look between the two of you, even James and Reggie, who had no idea why it was so strange that Sebastian had snapped like that.

“Geez, Mackie, control your man,” you joked, trying desperately to diffuse the tension.

“No way. Sebastian is not my man. He’s sitting with Winston, so he’s Winston’s problem today,” Mackie yelled back. Luckily, this caused Winston and Anthony to start bickering about who had to take care of Sebastian during the tour. Sebastian, of course, hated the attention and eventually agreed to behave and even gave you a very child-like “Sorry, Y/N.” You stuck your tongue out in response and turned back to give James your full attention.

You all continued the act of disconnected celebrities as James explained what waiting in line was. Hoping to get a better view of the “normal people,” you tried to stand on your chair like you were ogling some animal at the zoo, but almost immediately at least five different people were yelling at you to get down. Apparently it “wasn’t safe” to stand on top of chairs on top of a moving bus.

“Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I have to use the bathroom. Can I use the bathroom?” You didn’t turn around this time, worried about seeing Sebastian staring at you again. Instead, you focused on the faux apologetic look on James’s face.

“I’m really sorry. The problem is that the rules on the tour is that you have to have appeared in three or more Marvel movies to use the bathroom. End credits scenes don’t count. Y/N, do you have to use the bathroom?”

“I haven’t been in three movies,” you pointed out.

“That’s right, you haven’t. So I hope you don’t have to use the bathroom. Tom Hiddleston, do you need to use the bathroom?”

“I’m actually okay.”

“Oh, so sorry Y/N. Sorry Josh. Maybe you should ask your stepmom Barbra Streisand if you can use the bathroom at her holiday home.”

“I don’t even have to go,” you protested as Lizzie died laughing next to you.

“Well that’s good because you can’t. Now, does anyone die in the next Avengers?”

The bus was quiet as you all looked at each other. Finally, Paul yelled, “Snitches end up in ditches!”

“I thought they got stitches first,” you whispered to Lizzie.

“Apparently Paul is skipping that part,” she replied. The two of you gave each other a look before dissolving into giggles at the thought of Paul actually throwing someone in a ditch.

The tour continued with more of James’s jokes before he had the bus pull over at a comic shop. A part of you was nervous to go inside. While most of the fans that you had met were nice, you knew that there were still a lot of comic fans who didn’t like your character, or how you played your character, or that you had been cast, or whatever. You gave Lizzie’s hand a nervous squeeze, which she returned, but really you wanted to be holding Sebastian’s hand. You were each other’s biggest supporter. Whenever one of you was feeling nervous, the other was normally right there to offer support.

But instead, you walked in separately.

Luckily, everyone seemed too starstruck to gripe about anything. It ended up being a pretty nice time. You signed some comics and chatted to some fans. One girl even told you about a tattoo dedicated to your character that she was going to get. You almost had a heart attack when she asked you to write down her favorite line of yours, so that she could add that to the tattoo. Afterwards, Mackie had teased you about how much your hand was shaking when you were writing it. It looked like Sebastian was about to say something, but then a camera was suddenly in your face and he disappeared to the other side of the store.

After buying a couple of comics for yourself, you and Lizzie found yourselves in the corner of the store playing with a Scarlet Witch doll that you had bought for her. You didn’t notice when she looked up with a small frown on her face, but you did feel the hand that came to rest on your waist. You looked around quickly, making sure that no cameras were on you, before meeting Sebastian’s eyes.

“What are you doing, Seb?” you whispered. Without you realizing, Lizzie snuck away to give the two of you some privacy. Or as much privacy as you can get when you’re wearing a mic and possibly being filmed.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about earlier. I guess I just got kind of jealous and I snapped a little.”

“Jealous?” You put your hand on Sebastian’s arm to keep him in place when you felt him begin to back away. “Jealous about what, Sebastian?”

“I don’t know.” He waved his hand around a bit at the rest of the group. “Just seeing your hands all over Paul and joking around with everyone around you.”

“Lizzie and I were forcibly putting sunscreen on Paul. I did that to you before we left the house this morning. I don’t think you have anything to be jealous about.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“Sometimes it just feels like you always have everyone’s attention and you’re joking around with all of them and you never pay attention to me.” You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing at the adorable pout on Sebastian’s face. “And I know that we kind of have to ignore each other sometimes because we don’t want people to know about us, but I just always wish that I could be joking around with you too. I have so much fun talking to you and being around you, and seeing other people having fun around you when I can’t is just annoying sometimes. It’s like I always want to be right next to you.”

You placed a gentle hand on Sebastian’s cheek, making him meet your eyes. “I always want to be next to you too. And most of the time when I’m joking around with other people, I’m wishing that you were there too. But right now, we should get back to the others. It’ll be a miracle if we haven’t been caught on camera.”

“Oh I asked Anthony to make sure that no one would be paying attention to this side of the store.”

“Is that why he’s been yelling for the past few minutes?”

“He’s the best choice for a distraction, unfortunately.” You grinned at Sebastian as you wrapped your arms around him. Smiling back, he planted a quick kiss on your forehead.

“That’s way too bold,” you scolded him. Still, you couldn’t help but laugh. “There’s no way we would be able to explain that away if anyone saw. Way too many questions.”

You began to walk away, but Sebastian pulled you back to him. “Let them ask questions. The premiere is soon and they’ll have their answers then.”

“Oh they will?” You raised your eyebrows in mock confusion.

“Of course. When we go together. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a date.” The two of you smiled at each other and were about to lean in for a kiss when Anthony was suddenly pulling Sebastian away.

“Break it up, lovebirds. I thought I was providing a distraction so you two could make up, not so you could make out. Now come on, Sebastian. We need to take a picture with that Spiderman statue outside.”

Sebastian gave you a shrug as Anthony dragged him outside. You rolled your eyes at their antics, then followed the rest of the cast as they began to make their way outside and back to the bus. You had stopped to admire Benedict’s drawing skills when Lizzie was suddenly clutching your arm and squealing. She, of course, had seen everything, though she assured you that everyone had tried their best to be as entertaining as possible on the other side of the store, so that no cameras would be on you.

You wore a smile for the rest of the tour. Lizzie kept teasing you every time you and Sebastian would sneak glances at each other. Not that you could really sneak glances when you had to turn around constantly to look at him. Once again, you got way too into the singalong. This time, Sebastian yelled encouragement at you as you sang off key.

By the time you reached the studio again, you had decided that this was really the best way to do a press tour. You waved goodbye to James and Hemsworth and you climbed off the bus. Before you could take more than a few steps, Sebastian had picked you up and was spinning you around.

“How have you two not spilled the beans yet?” Paul asked as everyone watched in amusement.

“You weren’t even being subtle at the comic shop,” Benedict pointed out.

“Y’all are lucky that the cameras love me so much that they weren’t looking at you,” Mackie joked.

Apparently, the cameras didn’t love Mackie as much as he thought. When the video came out, some eagle eyed fans spotted the two of you looking cozy in the background of a shot. Some people argued that it was impossible to say for certain that it was you and Sebastian, but your Twitter and Instagram notifications were full of people asking if you and Sebastian were dating.

The two of you decided to ignore the questions. Lucky for you, Marvel made it very clear to all of the interviewers that there should be no questions about anyone’s personal lives. All focus was to be on the movie. So you kept the fans guessing until the two of you showed up to the premiere arm in arm.

Unfortunately, there were plenty of people more focused on your relationship than on the movie, so there were plenty of articles about the two of you. Apparently, you were Marvel’s new power couple. As long as you had Sebastian, that was a title you could live with.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #marvel one shot #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan oneshot

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rosemary-writes · 4 years ago

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What are you afraid to see?: Part 1 (Dwayne x GN! Reader)

An: This story is a soulmate au!

Word count: 2.1k.

Warnings: swearing

Soulmates were strange. Especially the ones that had big secrets.

That was the one thing in life that couldn’t be predicted, or changed. It made everyone curious and nervous. Mainly nervous.

Everyone was eventually going to see the absolute worst thing that their partner had done. The moment they kissed a vision would appear of the worst thing they had done up until their kiss. Most people were scared to find their soulmate because they didn’t want to see the possible horrors. Still, there was a good side to the soulmates. There was a unique pull with each pair that would subtly guide you to them.

You, however, honestly didn’t worry about such things. A couple of your friends had met their soulmates and said that it was nothing terrible or shocking. You never worried about what you would one day see.

Instead, you worried about your paper that's due tomorrow. Your english professor had asked everyone to write their final essay about “What you learned about yourself during the school year.”

It was dreadfully boring; However to celebrate the end of the year, you and some classmates were going out on the boardwalk.

Earlier in the semester, they tried to get you to join them on their nights out ,but you were too concerned with your work. Instead, you wanted to wait and celebrate for something big.

Thankfully, you were three sentences away from finishing. Your hand cramp was steadily increasing ,but you ignored it and pushed on. The lamp above you clicked as you raced to finish the second sentence. In a blur, the second and third sentence were finished and you threw yourself back against your chair. The pencil had fallen out of your hand as a groan fell out of your mouth.

Your hands came up and rubbed your exhausted eyes. Quickly, you got up from your chair and grabbed your coat. You didn’t want to look at the desk or be in your room as a matter of fact. So, you rushed down the hall to your living room and sat on the couch. You looked over at the clock and it read 7:45. The sun had already set and your classmates would be here any minute to take you to the boardwalk.

Richard, your favorite classmate, had told you to dress comfortably but in style. Sadly, he would be disappointed. You had only dressed comfortably. The t-shirt was well loved and so were your pants, but they weren’t dirty. The sneakers you had were a bit worn but they did their job well. You slipped the shoes on and grabbed your wallet and house keys.

As you shoved them in your pockets, a car pulled in front of your house. Quickly, you grabbed your jacket and ran out of the front door. You locked the door and then ran to the car. Slipping into the backseat, your classmates greeted you enthusiastically.

“Did you get your paper done?” Richard asked.

“Yeah, and it was a real pain in my ass.” you said as the car pulled out and began driving towards the boardwalk. From the passenger seat, Ruth, your classmate, groaned and covered her face.

“Can we please not talk about our shitty papers? I want to enjoy myself tonight.” she exclaimed loudly. To your right, Chris, your other classmate agreed. Richard grumbled to himself as he glanced at Ruth. Alice, the girl on the other side of Chris engaged Ruth in conversation.

“Do you think we’ll see those bikers again?” Alice asked. Ruth turned around in her seat and gave Alice a look. “They hang around the boardwalk all the damn time. If they aren’t there, I will be very surprised.” Ruth proclaimed. “Who knows, one of them might be my soulmate.” she said giddily.

“Are these the same bikers that you saw pick up multiple women?” you asked, leaning forward. Ruth huffed, “Obviously. Why? Are you suddenly interested in them?”

“Ruth, stop acting like they admire you from afar. Those guys probably have their soulmates.” Richard said, as he pulled into the parking lot. Chris chuckled as Ruth tried to sputter out a response. You rolled your eyes at the two and unbuckled and stepped out of the car. The others quickly followed.

“Chris, back me up! Those guys are not interested in any of us.” Richard asked. Chris held up his hands as Alice walked over to you.

Ruth huffed and glared at Richard. “Okay, can we please drop it? I want to go and have all of us enjoy ourselves and celebrate!” she snapped. Now you remembered why you didn’t like to hang out with Ruth. However, she was an amazing help with homework.

“Okay, fine.” Richard grumbled. Ruth looked accomplished and began walking toward the boardwalk. It wasn't too far of a journey so you wouldn’t be sweaty. Quickly, you tied your jacket around your waist and sighed. Alice looked over at you and gave a reassuring smile.

“Hey, if people do hit on us, wanna band together and try to get a hot date?” she asked, grinning. You purse your lips in thought but, before you could answer, Richard stuck his neck into the conversation.

“Obviously, they won’t grab a hot date because they didn’t take my advice. Now how is your special someone supposed to find you?” he said. You rolled your eyes at his remark.

“Rich, would it kill you to not tell everyone how to dress?” Chris asked as the five of you got closer to the boardwalk. Richard snapped his head towards Chris and looked him up and down. “Christopher, is that any way to speak to me? Your possible soulmate?” Richard asked. Loudly, Ruth groaned and Alice laughed at Richard’s sudden change.

“You haven’t kissed me yet, and I don’t plan on seeing you throwing coffee on a teacher again.” Chris replied back with a chuckle. Richard rolled his eyes.

“Oh look, there’s the entrance!” Ruth said quickly. You looked up and noticed the big flashing rides and the sea of people walking in and out. Most of the people looked like college students celebrating the end of the semester.

“Oh my gosh, we have to go on a ride first.” Richard declared.

“What ride? You just want to go see if there is a band performing.” Ruth said, jokingly as the five of you got closer together.

“You damn right I do, I only said that for Alice’s sake.” Richard said, smiling. Alice thanked Richard with a grin.

Chris agreed that he wanted to go on a ride as well.

“Okay, us three can go on a ride. Do you want to go with Richard?” Ruth asked, looking at you.

“Yeah, I��ll go and see what’s kicking at the stage.” you said, going next to Richard. Ruth, Chris, and Alice said they would meet you and Richard at the ferris wheel in about twenty minutes. Excitedly, Richard grabbed your hand and began walking towards the stage area.

“Y’know, Ruth can be a real pain in the ass.” Richard said, as the two of you slipped into the sea of people. You laughed at his remark and the two of you began chatting about what you were going to do for the summer. He said that he was going back home to visit his hometown friends and hopefully go on a trip with them to New Orleans. You had told him that you would stay here for the summer and enjoy Santa Carla before you actually had to leave

The sounds of a guitar shimmered in the air. Drumsticks, carefully thumped and someone spoke into a mic.

“I thought you were going to get us lost, Rich.” You said playfully. Richard laughed as the two of you made it to the crowd at the stage. “Thank god, we made it just in time.” Richard said, as you both squeezed your way to the middle of the crowd.

The main vocalist, you assumed, stepped up to the microphone and loudly spoke to the music hungry crowd below him. The second he was done speaking, sound erupted from the band.

You and Richard began to listen and dance with the notes and lyrics that soaked the crowd. Honestly, you didn’t care if you danced like a fool. Most likely, Richard looked like a bigger fool than you. However, the rhythm was perfect and the two of you just let loose.

Many minutes passed before Richard leaned down to you and asked if the two of you could go to the ferris wheel. You agreed because you started to get sweaty and very out of breath. Carefully, he grabbed your hand and the two of you slipped out of the dancing crowd. As you two emerged, Richard immediately steered the two of you in the direction of the giant wheel. He was walking like he was scared.

“Richard, why are you walking so fast, slow down.” You said, trying to keep up with him. He didn’t answer but, he did glance behind the two of you. Quickly, he pulled you up to him and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He leaned down, “Surf nazi’s are eyeing you.” This time, you turned your head around. Sure enough, he was right. The guys were looking right at you. You whipped your head around and put your arm around Richards waist. You didn’t want them to think you were up for grabs. Richard obviously didn’t want the guys to bother you.

Richard would always keep up with the news and how people went missing every day. He always suspected surf nazi’s but he never outwardly said it.

The two of you kept walking until you reached the wheel. You stopped underneath a light and kept close to each other. Richard subtly tapped your shoulder and you noticed that the group of guys were about to walk by. They didn’t seem so interested anymore. So, to make it look believable, you leaned your head on to Richard’s shoulder and closed your eyes. You didn’t want to see those men as they walked by.

“Finally! What took you two so long?” Ruth loudly asked. You opened your eyes and looked up at her to see Chris and Alice with wind blown hair trailing behind.

“We got stuck in the crowd. Some people, am I right?” Richard said, slowly moving his arms off of you. You picked your head up and noticed that the men had walked away and began ogling other people.

“It is pretty crowded tonight.” Chris said, rubbing the back of his neck. You slipped your arm off of Richard and untied your jacket. As you began to put it on, Alice walked next to you. Ruth and Richard began talking about what to do next and Chris just stood by for a third person input.

“Don’t look now, but you’ve got an admirer across the way.” Alice said, leaning into your ear. You groaned at the thought of another surf nazi staring you down. Slipping your jacket on, Alice spoke again, “It’s one of those bikers.”

Your head shot up at the mention of them. Your eyes scanned until you noticed the bikers near an exit. Three of them were talking with some women and it was obvious that the ladies were enjoying the attention. However, the only one that wasn’t engaged in conversation, was staring directly at you. As soon as you made eye contact, you looked away. Alice giggled.

“Do you want to go say hi?” She asked, gripping your arm. “No, I’ve had enough attention on me tonight.” you said, pulling the front of your jacket closer to your body. Again, you looked up and he was still staring at you. You noticed how he almost looked like he was shaking. He must’ve been the voice of reason amongst his friends. His eyes looked you up and down before he turned away. You noticed the three women had no longer taken an interest in his friends. The men looked annoyed and started to rev up their bikes. Before they left, your admirer had looked at you again. Something inside your chest twinged and As soon as he looked at you, he had already driven off behind his friends. You were speechless, as you watched him fade into the ever growing darkness of the night.

“Hey! Are you listening?” Ruth asked, slapping your arm. You looked up and noticed that everyone was looking at you. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” you asked.

“I asked if you wanted to go down to the beach. Rich and Chris want to sit and enjoy the waves.” Ruth said, folding her arms with a huff. You nodded and the group began heading down to the sandy shore. Before you followed, you looked back over your shoulder to see if the guy was still there.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back tomorrow.” Alice said, putting her arm around you. You nodded and turned around to walk to the misty beach.

#the lost boys imagines #The lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #dwayne lost boys #The lost boys Dwayne #the lost boys x reader #Dwayne lost boys x reader #soulmate au #Rosemary-writes

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mirahuyooo · 4 years ago

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Baby | knj

Baby

—Your daughter had been so sure about one thing. You are Baby. End of discussion.

Word Count: 1,268 Content/s: FLUFF, drama (super light, extra smol), established relationship, married life, husband and wife au, dad!namjoon is a p r e c i o u s concept & I'm glad we all agree Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

A/N: Hi, hello, idc if I'm posting out of schedule, this would've been a better tribute for Joonie's birthday but I went away and posted the one that's been in the drafts SO hERE I AM, houRS AFTER COOING AND FALLING HEAD OVER HEELS FOR THE CONCEPT OF F U T U R E D A D to deliver you this short blurb inspired by the stuff i saw on twt 😩👌💕 Hope y'all enjoyed!

[masterlist]

Any couple with a kid would gladly attest to the saying that parenting is no easy feat. The two of you, of course, have found fact in such a statement and have always managed. You, yourself, think you two did a brilliantly decent job raising Luna, your four-turning-five-year-old who had recently donned her big girl shoes on and entered the great unknown—kindergarten.

Now, you don't really know why you've been called in to meet with the teacher instead of doing the usual routine of waiting by the school gates, but you were certain that your sweet, little angel didn't do anything wr—

"What do you mean she got into a fight?"

Your jaw falls slack as you turned to the little girl sheepishly sitting in the chair next to you. An eyebrow of yours raised, waiting for her explanation, but Luna refused to meet with your questioning gaze. "Luna," you call out, soft yet firm so as to not scare her into not speaking a word.

"Well, Mrs. Kim," the teacher, Ms. Oh, began, catching your attention once more. She brings her hands together over the wooden desk with an awkward smile gracing her features, somewhat unsure of how to properly tell the story itself. "Luna here threw a little fit when one of her classmates, Chunsa, made fun of your name."

The confusion that seizes you knows no limits. "My name?" You incredulously ask. What's wrong with my name?

Ms. Oh glances at Luna for a moment before clearing her throat. "She said that your name was Baby," she tells you, "Chunsa laughed, because she found it funny and proceeded to make fun of it with the others. The fight, fortunately, was able to be stopped before anyone got hurt."

You could hardly believe your ears. Luna is a reserved girl, always has been, inheriting her father's introverted tendencies and love for books. She has the patience of a saint, too. For her to be like this...

"Baby?" You found yourself muttering aloud. "Why would she—oh..."

Oh no.

A blush stains across your cheeks an unmistakable red, spreading like an unstoppable forest fire except the one that got slain is your will to live. "I," you stammer, scrambling to find an excuse. "It's just that, uhm," you coughed into one hand. "Her, uh, father used to call me... baby before we got married. He still, uh, calls me that to this day. We didn't—"

You glance at your daughter, who was now looking at you with complete and utter betrayal. All you could muster to give to the both of them was an apologetic smile. "We didn't expect her to do such a thing," you told Ms. Oh in all honesty.

The silence that hung in the air was killing you mentally, when really you want it done physically so you can be rid of this mortification. Can the ground just swallow you whole please? Thanks.

To save yourself and your daughter from any more of this agony, you stood up, securing your shoulder bag with one hand before bowing to the young kindergarten teacher, both as an apology and as a farewell. "My husband and I will discuss it later," you solemnly swore, "I promise it won't happen again."

You grabbed Luna's hand, coaxing her to utter a small goodbye with you before taking the two of you out of the school grounds and into the parking lot where you had parked your car. You usher your daughter into her place in the backseat before hopping onto the driver's seat yourself and driving onwards to home.

As soon as you drove a good distance away from the school, a loud outbreath of relief escapes you, along with a little chuckle for you have been made a clown after that little hooha. Come to think of it, if all the embarrassment could just leave your body right now for even just a damn second, the scene that had just unfolded was hilarious.

Luna, behind you, however, looks at you with a puzzled expression. Eventually, she speaks up. "Mommy," she slowly began, "did I... did I really do an oopsie?"

You glance at her through the rearview mirror, offering her an assuring smile to ease her guilt. "It's okay, honey," you tell her, "you didn't know. Just don't fight with anyone again, hm? Remember what daddy said?"

Luna nods. "Violence is never the answer," she utters Namjoon's reminders along with you. Still, she fiddles with her fingers.

"What's your real name then, mommy?"

You beam a smile. "Mommy's name is (Y/N), sweetie," you tell her, "we can try spelling and writing it later if you want."

Your little offer seems to have efficiently lift her mood a little. She nods enthusiastically, but her curious eyes were still swimming with thoughts and questions. "Why does Daddy call you baby then?" She asks.

Nearly but fortunately not so, your grip on the steering wheel loosens as your throat chokes on your spit for a moment. You clear your throat. "Well," you began, scouring your head for a suitable explanation, "it's like a nickname! You know how mommy calls you honey sometimes? Or sweetie? Or, how daddy calls you moonchild?"

Luna nods understandably, getting a grasp onto the concept. "But why does he always call you baby?" She soon asks, not fully satisfied with your initial statement.

See, now that's not wholly true—but your daughter will have even more questions, so you're gonna have to shut up about that and just go with the hell of it. "Sometimes," you say, "sometimes, it just gets stuck that way, y'know? Like how you'll always call me mommy or eomma, and how you'll always call daddy your daddy or appa."

Luna, for now seemed to have enough. A small 'ah...' leaving her lips, as she resorts to looking out the window for amusement.

All you could do at that moment was let out yet another outbreath of relief—this time quieter so as not to catch Luna's attention again. Still, your lips tugged upwards.

Baby, huh? Wait 'til Namjoon hears about this.

BONUS

"We're home!"

Your voice rings throughout the house, as you lock the door behind you. Luna runs along and into the kitchen, immediately sensing her father was there.

You enter the premises to see Namjoon ducking down to her height in order to perform their daily kiss on the cheek ritual. He had been at the dining table, coffee in one hand—presumably taking a break from composing.

Just as you reach the two of them, Luna runs off to play with her dolls, leaving you alone with your husband. You lean down to press a light kiss on his lips, which he greatly welcomes. You sat on the chair next to him, resting your cheek against the palm of your hand. "You can not believe what just happened at school today," You halfheartedly groan, ready to spill some tea.

Namjoon chuckles, glancing at you as he sips on his mug. "Humor me," he tells you with an encouraging pat on the thigh.

Though the touch of hand sends shivers down your spine, you carry on with your words. "Luna got in trouble today," you say, "because she genuinely thought my name was baby and her classmates made fun of her for it."

"She what?"

You laugh at the ridiculous expression that seizes Namjoon's face. "Guess how she came to such a conclusion," you mused, eliciting a chuckle from your husband.

"Hm, yes," he feigns to ponder with a smirk, "I wonder how."

#bts #bts imagines #bts au #bts scenarios #kim namjoon x reader #bts fluff #kim namjoon #kim namjoon imagines #bts rm x reader #bts rm imagine #bts rm fanfic #bts rm scenario #bts rm #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bts kim namjoon

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eirist · 4 years ago

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Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

THE EGG HUNT SHENANIGANS

One-shot #: 25

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot scribble.

Rating: T (Just light flirting stuff)

Note: Light teasing. PWP. And pure insanity I tell you. Just ending my quarantine with another one-shot. Because who knows when I can write and upload one again.

Summary: "Found the bunny."

With a cheerful and dazzling smile, Luffy—the captain of the infamous Straw Hat Pirates—held out his hands to show off the beautifully decorated basket to his crew members.

Sanji cocked an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?"

"Yes!” Luffy exclaimed. “We're gonna go hunt for eggs!" His already bright smile widened some more at the idea of an adventure.

This time it was Zoro’s turn to raise an eyebrow. "Wearing… that?" His lone eye scrutinized the rabbit costume the rubber man had on.

The younger boy nodded again, head bobbing up and down enthusiastically. “Usopp and Chopper are wearing the same!”

"Yes we are!" Usopp and Chopper yelled proudly, pumping their fists up in the air.

“…”

“What the hell is wrong with this island?" The cook muttered under his breath with a slight shake of his head.

“More like what the hell is wrong with them?” Zoro grunted, folding his arms across his chest as he nudged his head towards the three.

It was one of those rare days when he and the idiot swordsman weren’t snarling insults at each other because there is a more pressing and absurd matter to attend to...

…like Luffy, Usopp and Chopper in bunny suits, holding colorful baskets to join the island’s ‘egg hunt’.

“Fufufu…” Robin laughed softly from her deck chair where she was relaxing. “It’s the island’s tradition. They are celebrating what they call Easter.” She explained as she flipped a page of the book in her hand.

“By looking for eggs?” Zoro inquired with a frown as the three bunnies started singing a song about egg hunting.

“Yes,” Robin nodded. “We just so happen to arrive here right in time for that celebration.”

“Weird.”

“No it’s not!” Usopp retorted looking aggravated at Zoro’s comment. “I recalled visiting an island once where hunting for eggs is considered a manly man’s sport! The one who finds the most wins the title of the most manliest man alive.”

“Suge Usopp!” Chopper gasped.

“That is right,” the sniper crossed his arms over his chest haughtily. “And guess who won the title five years in a row?”

“You, of course.” Both Zoro and Sanji drawled, with the same expression on their faces that clearly says… they’re not buying Usopp’s obviously untrue and exaggerated story.

Robin stifled her giggles behind her hand as Usopp yelled his retorts at the two. Both Luffy and Chopper were looking at him with their eyes sparkling from amazement.

“Whoa you’re awesome Usopp!” Luffy commented.

“You really are strong!” The reindeer gushed.

“I know right!” Usopp answered with an approving grin and a thumbs up.

“But I will defeat you today!” The captain declared. “I will be the one to win the title of the most manliest man alive.”

“And you’d do that…” Sanji said in an almost bored tone. “By finding… a lot of eggs?”

“Yes!”

Sanji sighed as he pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his pants.

“And you really need to wear… those costumes to hunt for them?” Zoro asked, still doubtful why they need to be in that.

“Yes!”

“It’s tradition Zoro,” Usopp stated matter-of-factly. “You can’t find the eggs if you’re not in a bunny costume! You’re so ignorant.”

“Temee…”

“Hey! Why don’t you join us too Zoro?” Luffy invited and Zoro almost blanched at that.

Almost.

"Yeah!” Chopper chirped in. “Join us! The more the merrier!"

“Nope. I’m good.” Zoro answered almost instantly. Like hell he would don that stupid costume and then hunt for stupid eggs.

Best to just leave them to their crazy shit.

“Have fun.” He waved them off.

Sanji let out a ‘tch’ before taking a drag from his cigarette. Things seemed to get weirder and weirder these past few days. But somehow the idea that he'll be free of the usual food stock raiders for the day feels too good to pass. "Alright then, run along rabbits. Go scour the island for eggs.”

“We will!” The trio chorused.

Sanji nodded at them. “And don't you dare create any messes for us to clean you hear?"

“Eeeh…” a voice from behind them suddenly said. “Don’t worry about it Sanji-kun."

And just like that the cook immediately swiveled around to face the newcomer.

"Nami-swaaan! Don't you look dazzling in that ensemble, my sweet!" He crooned as his eyes automatically turned to hearts, kneeling down on one knee in front of the navigator.

“Thank you!” Nami beamed at him and winked. The chef instantly fell down the lawn deck in a swoon, blabbering about her beauty. She was wearing an outfit just like the one she had on when they went after him in Whole Cake Island. Only this time the corset skirt is frillier and more colorful as the layers sported different shades of pastel spring palette.

The puffed sleeves of her blouse are pulled down her shoulders, revealing them and she had put on a rabbit ears headband on top of her head.

Zoro glared at the prone figure of the blond before shifting his attention to Nami. “You going with them?”

Nami nodded with a scheming grin. “Heard something about money prizes.”

“Of course you wouldn’t let that pass,” the green-haired man smirked. His lone eye trailed up and down her form as he studied her. “And you're supposed to be what? A rabbit as well?"

"Yes."

He jerked a thumb towards the three doofuses in their onesie costumes. "Why not wear the same as them?"

Nami narrowed her eyes at him as Sanji barked threats from where he was still lying down. Something about shutting his trap if he can’t say something nice to his precious Nami-san.

Zoro ignored him. Even as he started shouting insults that he is being the usual, unfashionable stupid marimo that he is.

"Because that is not cute." The map maker huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

"Looks ok on them." The grin that Zoro send her way was nasty.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder snootily. "Say one more word about what I'm wearing Zoro and I'll make sure your next sentence is, “Please don't charge me”."

"Right. Don't charge me… greedy witch," he said monotonously, deliberately omitting the word please and adding an insult as well.

She gave him the evil eye.

“Now go and run along with your rabbit friends."

"You can kiss your next island allowance goodbye Zoro," Nami said in an overly sweet tone as she smiled evilly. "I'll be splurging them for expensive lingerie later."

"OI!"

"Byeeee!" Nami immediately pranced away from him to escape; pushing Usopp, Luffy and Chopper towards the ship’s ladder so that they could embark. Sanji was automatically back on his feet and on her side to assist her while nose bleeding about lingerie and the orange-haired woman.

"Damn it Nami! You come back here!" Zoro was yelling as he stomped to follow her.

“Have fun!” Robin called out to them, eyes never leaving her book and creating duplicates of her hand at the railing to wave at them.

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

It was around lunch time when Nami entered the crow’s nest. The first thing her eyes landed upon was the figure of a sprawled Zoro, unsurprisingly asleep on the floor.

She approached the thunderously snoring swordsman and nudged his side with her foot.

“Hey,” she prodded him awake. “Hey Zoro, wake up!”

The snoring stopped. And there was a grunt. Then a tiger-like yawn, followed by another grunt.

Nami rolled her eyes at his response. “Zoro!”

“WHAT?!” Zoro answered irritably. He opened his eye and blinked up at her. “Hunt’s done?” He asked groggily before turning to his side so his back was now facing her, not even waiting for her answer.

A frown appeared on her lips. What a rude and lazy ass. She poked him on the back with her feet. He merely grunted again and ignored her.

“They’re still hunting,” she explained, looking down on his prone figure disapprovingly. She doubt if he was listening. Sometimes, you might as well talk to a rock than Roronoa Zoro.

“The game is happening on the whole island,” she continued. “I went back to get reinforcements. So wake up and come with me!”

“Will not. I’d rather sleep.”

Nami settled down on the nest’s floor just behind him. This time she was prodding him with her finger, making sure her nail was digging into his skin.

“Stop that.”

“I will not.”

“Why aren’t you looking as well?” He grumbled petulantly as she continued poking his back.

“That’s what my three rabbits are for! I’m just there to oversee and secure the money prize!”

“You can’t make me join you.”

And Nami leaned forward so her lips were almost touching his ear. “Really?”

“Whatever you’re planning. It won’t work.” He declared smugly, even as he kept his eye closed.

She laughed softly, letting her breath tickle his ear. “You’re no fun.” She shifted closer, bending over so she could drape her body on top of him.

“You know… I’m not planning anything.” She whispered, letting her lips lightly touch his ear. “I’m just here to offer a ten percent deduction to your current… debt amount.” She let her hand slide inside his t-shirt, past his haramaki to caress the well-defined muscles there.

“I already told you that’s not gonna work.” Zoro’s eye was now open and looking at her. A smirk was on his lips. “And I don’t recall borrowing money from you onna.”

“You don’t?” Nami gasped exaggeratedly. “What about that time in Vert Island? You owe me belis for the cottage rent.”

Zoro’s brow furrowed. “Thought that was your treat?”

She mock-pouted. “Oh Zoro. When are you gonna learn that there are no such things as free or treat when it comes to me?”

“You really are a wicked witch.” The green-haired man groused. “And after I made sure you thoroughly enjoyed your stay there.”

Nami snickered. Zoro noticed that the bunny ears on her head actually made her look more mischievous. “Nothing’s free nowadays Zoro,” she pointed out. “Favor for a favor. I pay; you work your ass off.”

He snorted. “Next time, I’m just lying down and letting you do all the work. Whether you pay or not.”

She threw back her head and laughed again. “Do the hunt and maybe I’ll humor you.” She bent over and placed teasing kisses along his jaw and neck.

“In your dreams.” He sneered and she felt his arm snaked around her, his hand squeezed the back of her thigh before it slid up to do the same on one plump cheek of her behind.

That made her bite her lip even as she complained. “Tch! You’re a hard man to bargain with.”

A shark-like grin appeared on Zoro’s face. “Yeah.” He playfully slapped her ass before giving it another squeeze. “Offer a better deal Nami.” He said teasingly against her ear this time before nipping at the skin below it as his hand continued caressing her backside.

“Mmm… well what do you—”

“WHAT THE HELL?”

They simultaneously turned their heads towards the voice.

Sanji was gaping at them from the nest’s entrance… his eyes wide as saucers. His face was so red. As red as the blood dripping down his nose as he took in the image of Nami's perfectly shaped-derriere and her lacy thong as her ridiculously short skirt and position put them on display….

… along with the shitty swordsman’s hand on it.

Silence reigned for a moment. Then…

“TAKE YOU GODDAMNED HANDS OFF HER AHO KENSHIN!”

“TAKE YOUR GODDAMNED EYES OFF HER ASS ERO COOK!”

“Temee…”

Both men growled the word at the same time as Nami disentangled herself from Zoro. She wasn’t even embarrassed at being caught. They weren’t actually keeping it from the crew after all.

But of course it would be better if Sanji was the last one to know.

Nami sighed heavily as she watched the two throwing death glares at each other.

It's the beginning of chaos.

The two attacked each other almost immediately. Sanji had leapt inside the crow’s nest, flaming legs and all as Zoro avoided him and made a grab for his swords.

And manage to hit the cook straight in the face with the sheathed end of his red katana.

Her mouth fell open as the Sanji collapsed down the steel floor. But she knew of course this was far from over.

In one swift move a grinning Zoro carted her towards the nest’s entrance. He enjoyed that, she knew. In a matter of seconds they were down the metal ladder while Sanji recovered, fumed and yelled expletives at his rival.

Using one arm to hold on to the ladder’s rung as his other was wrapped around her waist, Zoro swung slightly for leverage.

Nami’s eyes widened when she realized what he’s about to do.

“Zoro! NOOOOO!!!”

She screamed bloody murder when he let go and made the high jump down onto the Sunny’s deck.

Nami’s heart leaped to her throat. That was probably the reason why her scream stopped coming out of her mouth. Halfway down the long drop she could swear she felt her soul left her as her mind went blank.

She's going to kill Zoro! Mark her words!

Somewhere above Sanji was still yelling threats and curses.

The swordsman landed on the deck as if it was just a natural thing to do.

Oh dear heavens. Roronoa Zoro will be paying for this stupid stunt of his for the rest of his life until his next and next and next!

“Zorooo!” Luffy greeted when he spotted the former pirate hunter on the deck. “Heey!” He bounded towards him, showing his now-filled with eggs basket. Chopper and Usopp were nowhere to be seen as the three most likely got separated. “Look, look I found a lot! Shishishi! I can’t wait to show it to Usopp. Whatcha got there?” He peered at the figure tucked under Zoro’s arm.

"Found the bunny." Zoro answered nonchalantly.

"Oh that’s great! Shishishi!" Luffy chortled. He peered down again at the navigator who is still hanging motionlessly on Zoro's arm.

"Ne, Zoro?"

"Huh?”

"Uhm... the bunny looks mad.”

"..."

“THUNDERBOLT TEMPO!”

#zoro x nami #ZoNa #zonami #zonalove #zona one-shots #zoro nami fanfiction #zona fanfiction #roronoa zoro #nami

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adaodinson · 4 years ago

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I´ve known since I met you

Yes, writing fics during my online classes is my passion.

English is not my first language.

Summary: You move to a new apartment and one of your new neighbors quickly gains your affection.

Warnings: Swearing, a tiny bit of angst.

Relationship: Bucky x Mexican!reader (it´s for the story, there are no lines in Spanish).

Shared kitchen?! Seriously?! That was ridiculous, who would approve a shared kitchen? You sighed after reading the details of the amazing apartment you had found. It was perfect: pet-friendly, quite reasonable price, pretty close to your work and only four neighbors. It was a small compound with five apartments. It wasn´t a building, the apartments were not on top of each other and it had a huge garden, which was perfect for your dog and two cats. But a shared kitchen.

-Do this people not have that feeling of hatred towards any person that walks into the kitchen when they´re using it?!- You almost yelled to yourself. You chuckled at your situation. It was too good to be true, but it´s still good. You had been looking for a place for almost three months, you had actually slept in your car for a couple of nights because of the fear of settling in a hotel and spending too much money. Luckily your boss was the nicest woman you had ever met, she sympathized with your situation and let you take a few days off (not the three months, of course) even though you hadn´t even started working yet, because you had recently arrived from Mexico. You had moved because of the job, it had been an offer, your dream job, you weren´t gonna waste it.

You decided to visit the place and liked it a lot. If you set aside the kitchen issue, it was perfect. Oh, what the hell? A day later you called the owner of the apartments and finally gave him your answer. Yes. You couldn´t be too picky, and it wasn´t that bad. All the apartments were connected, they were in the middle of the huge garden, next to each other. They had privacy and thick walls, but the kitchen was the “common room” in the middle of the five places.

You settled down in no time since you didn´t have all that much stuff. You took your cats to what would be their “room” and settled their litter box, food, water and bed. They got along just fine with each other and with your dog, so the small space wasn´t a problem. Your dog would sleep in your room (so would your cats even though their beds were on the other room), and her food and water was settled at the small fenced yard that was behind your apartment.

It was really nice, but if you had to be honest with yourself, it had been your metaled-armed neighbor that had convinced you this had been a good idea. You first saw him the day you moved in. You were carrying your huge books box while your dog was playing in between your feet. You tripped and swore you would lose your teeth because of the impact (since your hands were securing the box), but It never came, you only felt a really strong arm holding your stomach and saw the other hand catching the box you were carrying. You were already stunned by his action and strength, so when you saw the man your brain died and then resurrected. He was tall, had broad shoulders, short dark hair, and his face gave the image of a freaking lion and a lost puppy at the same time. You were caught in those deep blue eyes when your dog Cleo literally climbed him and started licking his face. He let go of you and started producing the most beautiful laughter you had ever heard. You reacted (finally) and called your dog to get away from him.

-I´m really sorry, she knows no boundaries. And thank you, thank you for catching me and my books- You said as you pet Cleo to keep her still.

-It´s not a problem, I like her too- He answered happily- And you don´t need to thank me, you seemed more worried about protecting your book rather than your face-.

-Well they´re really good books, and expensive ones- You said with a giggle.

-I´m Y/N- You said as you lifted your hand towards his left one, the one that wasn´t carrying your books.

-I´m Bucky- He made an awkward, almost worried face and shifted the box from his right arm to his left one and shook your hand weirdly (since you were using opposite hands for the shake). It wasn´t too awkward though, you were too lost in his features and touch to care about which hand you were shaking. He was also taking in everything about you. Almost scanning you, your features, your body language, your smile. God, your smile.

You two finally regained focus and he helped you carry in the rest of your boxes.

The second time you encountered him wasn´t as nice as the first one. You had been making your famous chocolate, oatmeal and banana pancakes, ones that you enjoyed a lot, when a lady (another one of your neighbors) came into the kitchen and looked at you with a disapproving grin. You couldn´t care less about what she thought of you, but what she said really triggered you.

-Mmmh, honey, are you sure you want to use chocolate? It has too much sugar, and bananas are really heavy fruits, you should eat a banana alone for breakfast if you want to have good habits- Who does she think she is?! A nutritionist? She didn´t even say good morning and she was already criticizing you. You were about to tell her a few of her truths when you felt a familiar strong hand grabbing your shoulder.

-Good morning Y/N, Ms. Cavanaugh- He listened to what happened and saw the look of anger in your face. You did seem like the type of person to not pull with anyone´s shit, at least to him. But that woman was the owner´s aunt and had a great relationship with him, he had learnt from experience she was a “tough” person, to say the least, but it wasn´t worth it getting on her black list. He was usually shy and reserved, but it was easy to be more “sociable” when he knew the amount of people in the apartment block wouldn´t increase, and that those people would always be the same.

-Morning James- The woman´s face literally shifted from the disgusted look she gave to you the second Bucky walked in. He just smiled and nodded while taking your arm and leading you back to your pancakes.

-That smells great, what are you making?- He asked curiously.

-Chocolate, oatmeal and banana pancakes- You said emphasizing in the “chocolate” and “and” while gazing at the woman.

-Woah that sounds great, I hope there´s enough batter for me to get some of those- You were more relaxed now, but you still didn´t understand why he hadn´t let you defend yourself.

You nodded with a smile and showed him the remaining batter. Ms. Cavanaugh finally left and you turned to him immediately.

-What was that for? That woman needs someone to tell her some of her truths- You said intensely, but not angrily. He softly explained the relation between the woman and the owner, and you quickly understood as you flipped his pancakes.

-Ohhhh, in that case, thank you. You know, it´s the second time you saved me this week, you gotta stop, I don’t like owing people things- He laughed while shaking his head at you.

-If you want me to stop saving you, stop giving me reasons to do so- You tried making an angry face but laughter took the best of you. You two had breakfast together and talked easily through it. He was insanely nice and smart, he seemed reserved and an introvert just like you. Sure, you didn´t let people step on you, but you were shy as hell. He seemed to have an interesting past, but didn´t talk much about it. You didn´t push it, you happily answered all the questions he asked about your family. You were currently telling him a story about your mom and dad from when they were dating.

-So it was really late, and we still don´t know if my dad said “move to the right” or “turn to the right”, because both of my parents say differently, but anyways, my mom offered to park the car and, remember they were not even married, she got in, moved forward and turned to the right. She suddenly felt the car drop a bit, turned to my yelling dad and got out of the car before it sank more INTO THE POOL! She freaking drove my dad´s car into the pool at my grandad´s house and they had to call a hoist at 3am to get it out! I don´t think my grandparents found out but JESUS!

Bucky was holding his stomach as it ached from his laughter.

-NO WAY- he said not being able to form a full sentence.

You were both laughing whole heartedly when your phone´s alarm rang, announcing you had to go to a gathering with your best friend. You apologized to Bucky and explained you had to leave, but before you did that, you basically jumped into his arms for a hug. His immediate reaction was to hold you as close as he could, as strong as he could, but he then remembered his left arm and doubts started filling his mind as you walked away towards the parking place you had outside the apartment’s block. He was afraid of your reaction if he told you, he knew you from a week and was already considering telling you everything about himself. Telling you the truth, but he was too afraid of your reaction. He knew you had recently moved from Mexico, and he also knew you weren´t fully aware of who he was.

But now, he was sure you had felt his metal arm when he held you, he was sure and he was dying. He wandered around the door while “watching” a movie waiting for you to arrive to your apartment. He was sure you knew, so he wanted to explain, at least that he had a metal arm, but he didn´t feel ready to tell you everything yet, or that´s what he tried convincing himself of.

You arrived three hours later. It was 5pm. He heard you walking and saying hi to Cleo (that was now allowed to be at the garden of the whole place, not just your small part). He walked to the kitchen, knowing he would bump into you there.

-Hey- you said with a wide smile as he opened the main door for you.

-Hi, I was just grabbing a snack when I heard you-

-Well, thank you-

-Listen, about my arm, I´m sorry if it made you uncomfortable when you hugged me before you left, I- You cut him off before he continued.

-Hey, your arm has never made me uncomfortable, you’ve been worried about this since I left?-

-Never? For how long have you known?-

-That you have a metal arm? Since I met you haha, it wasn´t hard to tell-

-But, it doesn´t make you uncomfortable? Why didn´t you as-

-Ask about it? It doesn´t make me uncomfortable, at all. And I didn´t ask because you didn´t tell me. If you want me to know, you´ll tell me, it you don´t I won´t invade your privacy-.

He seemed shocked at your words. It hurt you to think he had gone through anything that made him think his arm was unworthy of showing. He smiled, almost hurt. So you did what you had to. You hugged his waist with one arm, and with the other you held his left hand. You gazed at him, asking with your eyes for permission to remove his leather glove. When he nodded, you slowly lifted the material and intertwined you fingers with his metal ones. You then pressed your palm against his, reveling how small your hand was in comparison to his. He felt tears threatening to leave his eyes, but when he felt your head resting against his chest his mind wandered with thoughts. You trusted him enough to let him hold you, even though you knew about his metal arm, you had known about it since you met and it was never a problem for you.

You felt his other arm around your waist and turned to face him. He had a tender look in his eyes, like he was looking at the whole world. You smiled softly, released your fingers from his metal hand and grabbed his shirt, pulling him into your lips. He slowly surrounded you with both of his arms, and you tangled yours around his neck. You could feel him relax into your touch, and your stomach was meeting more butterflies than you had ever felt. Your breaths mixed perfectly, and you felt him smile widely into the kiss. You finally parted, reaching for air. You smiled again and he tenderly caressed your face with his left hand.

-I was about to go and watch a The Hobbit marathon, wanna watch it with me?-

-The Hobbit marathon? There are movies?! And more that one?!-

-There are three, you have NEVER watched them?!- Oh this was gonna be fun.

-I just read the book- He said with a smirk.

-Well, I read the book AND watched the movies, and now I´m curious to see if you´re a crazy fan that´ll hate the movies, or a crazy fan that´ll love them like me-.

-There´s only one way to find out-.

#james barnes #bucky #bucky fic #james buchanan bucky barnes #james barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel

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octupus-on-the-moon · 3 years ago

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I`m the favorite

Pairing: Non, just the Wilson family and Red Wing.

Wordcount: 2689

Warning: Non

Author´s note: This little story is based on this post of this super cool blog @justsamwilson, check it out too.

The moon stood high above a lake bathed in darkness; only a soft light, that emerged of a house near the shore, reflected on the water surface. The air was pleasantly warm and humid, around the double-gallery house, whose blue color almost seemed black between the shadows. Crickets were chirping and fireflies humming, only the subdued sound of conversation and laughter, coming from the residence, disrupted the almost complete silence.

The Wilson family was having dinner. James Barnes or ‘Bucky’ as everyone called him, came over to spend the weekend. The kids where specially excited about Uncle Bucky’s visit, he was the only one with enough time to play. Sam and Sarah were also glad that he came over every once in a while, to help out with whatever he could.

Now after a long day of fishing, cleaning and packing up deliveries all were enjoying Sarah’s gumbo.

“The soup is amazing Sarah” Bucky praised her with a warm smile, she blushed looking down at her half full plate.

“Thank you. It´s a family recipe. I can write it down for you if you want” Sarah replied, tucking a strain of hair behind her ear, earning an annoyed look from Sam who was sitting across from her.

“That won´t be necessary, if I want some I just need to come here. It´s really good so I’ll be around a lot” Bucky chuckled tilting his head and taking another spoon full of gumbo. The boys whispered at each other giggling.

Sam sighted irritated “Okey enough flir…”

A loud melody coming from his phone in the pocket of his jeans interrupted Sam.

“Oh it´s Torres” He said tapping on the screen “Hi, what’s up?”

A distorted voice, only understandable for Sam, came out of the phone as he stood up. “I’m with my four-favorite people in this world having dinner” He explained, walking out on the porch into the friendly night.

The scraping of spoons continued unaffected.

“Of course, I’m his number one favorite nephew and person” Stated Cass out of the blue, blowing at his glasses that tarnished under the steam of the hot soup.

“Ha. You can´t even eat a soup right” AJ opposed, whose glasses where perfectly clear “I´m older than you, so I´m his favorite”

“At least I can take my glasses off and stop seeing your ugly face” Cass snapped back sticking out his tongue.

Sarah took a deep breath “Stop it you two” she scolded both, clapping her hand gently against Cass´s head, who was sitting right next to her.

“Well, I´m his partner in crime and I saved the world with him, so I would be his favorite number one” Bucky added, innocently starring at an interesting spot on the wall, while Sarah glared at him.

“That’s not fair. Just because he didn’t let me go with him” Cass pouted “I could have saved the world too”

AJ rolled his eyes behind his glasses. “You couldn´t even walk back then, dummy”

Sarah quickly chewed her last bite “Hey, we don´t talk like that in this house” extending her right arm over to the front side of the table to clap softly AJ´s head, as she did before with Cass. “And you are all wrong. I’m his sister. I know him longer than any of you. So obviously I am his favorite” She taunted, challengingly looking towards Bucky now.

Turning their eyes into the same direction, the brothers waited expectantly a response; causing Bucky to clear his throat and shift his torso to sit up right. “Oh really” he said still searching for a quick answer.

Then his eyes lit up “IIIIIIII spent five years with him in a weird glitch reality. That” Bucky paused dramatically “Makes me his number one”

The mention of that unfortunate time stiffened Sarah´s shoulders, but went unnoticed by the boys who high fived, twisting around on their seat, to see their mother´s reaction.

“Aha. After a month you probably bored him to death” Sarah countered with a serious tone “I can cook him all his favorite meals, ergo I´m the favorite”

The brothers quietly glanced over to Bucky, who did not appear amused either. The last words altered the atmosphere. It was chilly in the room, yet the temperature had not changed.

Bucky lifted his chin pretentiously “Pff. That´s nothing. Sam went two years on the run for me” his voice had a harsh undertone, that was not there before “I am his favorite”. Sarah stared back at him with ice cold eyes and the brothers hold their breath.

The tense moment passed as soon, as Sam’s heavy steps entered the room “What did I miss?” he asked with the always welcoming warm tone he had.

Bucky relaxed, as far as he could, picking up his spoon pocking the remains of his soup.

Sarah turned her head, letting down her shoulders, with a bright beam “Not much. How´s Torres doing?”

The dinner went on as before, polite conversation and more gumbo, but something unkind lurked in the air among the plates.

A silent dare between Sarah and Bucky settled.

Prove each other who was the favorite.

***

The weekend passed under an invisible contest between Sarah and Bucky.

The kids thought it was a fun idea persuading uncle Sam to admit who was the favorite number one, by doing extra nice things for him. The brothers gifted Sam some self-painted comics, with their cool uncle Captain America saving their day and helped him cleaning his super suite, among other little chores; But quickly let go of it, when their uncle Bucky and Mom took it to the extreme.

Bucky was constantly around Sam asking him at any given moment if he could help him or do it all himself instead of Sam. From renovating the whole cabin of the boat, to just serve him a coffee. Always being polite, letting out any teasing or offensive joking, which rapidly irritated Sam.

Unlike Bucky, Sarah, worked in the background: Serving the meals he most liked, bringing a refreshing lemonade under the hot sun of July or checking on the boats motor, so it would not die while Sam was out fishing. Smiling and being nice, without drawing to much attention on herself.

Sam did not mind being so well attended by his loved ones the first hours of that Saturday morning. After lunch he started to feel that something was off, apart from Bucky´s suspicious behavior. On his way back to the boat after a little break he realized, that the Boys were quieter than usual around their mother and that Bucky had not flirted with Sarah in more than 12 hours, which was nearly a miracle.

As almost every Saturday, Bucky and Sam, kept working on the boat.

“Hey Buck, can you pass me that screwdriver?” Sam asked looking straight at the doorless frame in front of him.

“Yes of course. Do you need something else? Can I help you with that?” Bucky passed him the screwdriver, looking interested on the hinges Sam was exchanging.

“No, it´s fine, you check on that doors paint” Sam replied, signing towards a freshly painted door leaning against the rail of the boat.

"Just" he stopped for a moment turning around to see Bucky in the eyes. "One question"

Bucky nodded enthusiastically, unusual for his serious persona "Of course, what is it?"

"What the hell is going on with you all?" Sam asked leaning against the doorway, crossing both arms over his chest.

"Us? Nothing. We're just doing what we do every weekend?" Bucky’s enthusiastic face fell apart, making place for his familiar icy expression. Without awaiting another word from Sam, he turned around to keep working on the paint of the door.

Sam sighted. He knew that face far too well and now he was more than sure that something was up. But Sam never got far pressing Bucky to tell him what he knew, felt or thought.

He will need to ask the boys what is going on.

Sam pressed a button on what at first sight could be a wristwatch. It was actually a remote for Red Wing. Sam made a second one for daily use. Red Wing is not only a weapon for him; he could be quite useful for many things.

"Red Wing locate AJ and Cass, tell them they should come to the boat" Sam quietly order into the remote. "Then I want you to fly over my position and take pictures"

The roof of the cabin was leaking since Sam had memory. Bucky wanted to climb on the cabin earlier this morning, since Sarah lent their ladder to one of the neighbors. But with the boat slight movement and the wet surface of the cabin roof, Sam did not want him to get hurt. With a few good pictures of Red Wing, they could see what needed to be repaired and do it the next time both had a free weekend.

***

Almost an hour passed, till Red Wings hum, announced the arrival of the two brothers.

Sam did not worry; both often went down to the village to play soccer with the other kids.

"Hey uncle Bucky, hey uncle Sam. What's up?" AJ questioned tiredly climbing on to the boat. The two were covered in mud and Cass was holding a brown round mass of what must be a soccer ball.

"You two had fun I see" Bucky said smiling at them.

"Only your mom will not be pleased when she sees you two like that" Sam added, smirking towards Bucky, who nodded accordingly. "Anyway, you need to clean up and I need to talk to you. Dinner must be ready soon" Sam answered AJ's question.

"Buck, I'll be back in a second. Then we can hang in the door and finish up for today" Sam's bracelet remote beeped. Red Wing had sent the pictures to his phone.

***

"What's going on uncle Sam?" Cass asked after all three had left the boat and were slowly walking to the back of the house to clean up their mess, before their mother saw them.

"That's exactly what I wanted to ask you too" Sam replied.

"Nothing. What should be going on?" AJ eluded him, nervously side eyeing Cass.

Sam specified his question "Why are your uncle and your mom acting so strange?"

"Oh, about that..." Cass and AJ responded in unison, looking at each other. Then both giggled. And Sam's confusion grew even worse.

Then a high pitched and blurred voice, from inside the house, screamed at them.

It was Sarah. She opened the window "Look at you two. Who is going to wash that? And the grass stains on that jeans AJ?"

"I was goalkeeper" AJ said, loud enough so only his brother and uncle could hear it.

"You’re not going to enter my house like that! AJ I heard that. No talking back to me, you know that. You two are going to wash your own clothes, just so we are clear" Sarah's frustrated tone changed immediately as she saw Sam "Oh, hey Sam, are you done for today? Dinner is almost ready, but you can shower before that if you want"

The boys went around the house to follow their mothers request and get rid of the mud, while their mom was distracted; Sam´s question already forgotten.

It took him a beat too long to respond, but Sarah waited patiently “Yes we´re almost done. I’ll shower before dinner, but don´t wait for me. Bucky probably wants to…”

“Oh, don´t worry we can wait. It´s not like we’re starving to death” Sarah interrupted him with an exaggerated laugh.

Sam sighted again. The day was pretty busy, the sun hot and he was tired.

But curiosity killed the cat, right?

“Sarah” Sam voice now a little sharper “What is going on between you and Buck?”

***

With a frustrated huff Sam let the cold water run down his body.

Nobody knew anything, but everyone acted strange, he thought, massaging his temples enjoying the cool wet.

Sarah did not answer. She gave a short explanation about her relationship with Bucky, completely missing the point of his question. Then she vanished from the window, leaving Sam with his doubts.

Now he was trying to figure it out himself. What exactly he needed to figure out was unclear too. “What did I miss?” he questioned out loud in to the empty bathroom.

Everything was perfectly fine till today morning. They couldn´t have discussed in the morning, because he was always the first up on his feet.

Absentmindedly he soaped and rinsed his hair and body.

Then it struck him. Torres´s call. They must have discussed during his call. That would explain why the boys were so obediently quiet afterwards.

“But what could they have discussed about?” another question floating unanswered in the steamy air of the bathroom.

Sam stepped out of the shower, at the moment his Red Wing remote beeped. He sent the little drone out to look for bee nests around the house. They were pretty common around here, but for AJ deadly due to his allergy.

He must have found one somewhere.

Sam made a mental note to call the beekeeper, to remove the nest safely. But he dismissed the idea almost immediately.

Red wing.

Red wing was laying on the sofa last night, he probably recorded the whole evening. Bucky complained afterwards that Sam leaves Red Wing everywhere after repairing or upgrading him. He must have recorded the discussion between Sarah and Buck.

Without wasting much more time in the bathroom, Sam rushed over to his room, where Red Wing was patiently waiting for new orders on his bed.

“Red Wing, replay the audio footage of last night between” Sam rapidly took his phone out “7.35 and 7.40”

***

AJ and Cass looking shiny new in their fresh clothes, were nervously waiting for uncle Sam. Their Mother and Uncle were ignoring each other sipping on their glass of wine. The kitchen smelled amazing with the different pregnant spices of the casserole hanging in the air.

From the top they could hear Sam´s distinguished steps coming down the stair. At the sound of it, Bucky´s and Sarah´s posture changed immediately to warm smiles and relaxed shoulders.

Sam came down with a big grin on his face and Red Wing in his hands.

“Finally” Cass sighted, already grabbing the spoon to serve himself, just to get his hand clapped away by Sarah.

“Don´t be so impatient Cass, let your uncle take a seat first”

“Oh, don´t worry about me. Cass serve yourself; I still have something to say” Sam intervened his grin growing even bigger. Sarah and Bucky exchanged for the first time a glance.

“Red Wing, had been quite useful today” Sam said laying the drone on a little side table near the stairs. “Yes, quite useful” Sam repeated with a chuckle seating himself on his usual spot besides Bucky, who seemed really preoccupied over his strange behavior.

“I think if I ever stranded on a lone island, I would hope to have Red Wing with me” Sam kept on talking, taking the spoon from AJ, who already was pouncing his plate. “He could alarm me from any wild animals or even hunt something for me, without complaining or competing” he added savoring the confused expressions of his family “Yes, he truly is my favorite” Sam finished, passing the spoon to Bucky.

Sarah choked on her wine, looking over to Bucky, who couldn´t compute what was going on.

The boys bursted out in to a laugh, Sam gladly joined.

“How?” Buck asked knitting his brows, still holding the serving spoon, then his eyes shifted to the little red drone on the side table “Oh”

“Yes” was the only thing Sam managed to say between tears.

Sarah and Bucky looked at each other for another moment completely embarrassed. Then both grinned joining the others laughs.

After everyone caught their breath again, Cass broke the silence “But uncle Sam who´s your real favorite?”

Sam smiled at his little nephew “Red wing is real isn´t he?”

#tfatws #mcu fic #sam wilson #bucky barnes #wilson family #bucky fanfic #sam fanfic #marvel #mcu #captain america

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

Text

DON'T CROSS THE LIMIT

Second part: No without you.

Hank ‘Tranq’ Loza x Obispo ‘Bishop’ Losa daughter!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Author comments: Something I needed to write. This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @sonsofeorl.

WARNINGS: NSFW, soft smut and maybe a little angst.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“Do you need someone to fix you up, Pacificador?”

Tranq turns around finding you resting against the metallic wall, close to the ring, holding a beer on your left hand with a leg curled. You're wearing one of those charming smiles that drive him insane. He was so focused fighting against Ibarra, that he didn't notice you between the crowd. Looking at him from bottom to top, stopping for a second on his bare and sweated chest barely breathing, you lick your lower lip standing up from the wall.

The last time you saw him was four months ago, before you had to go to work in a hospital in New York. But now, you're back. And with you, the sexual tension that has been installed among both since you met him six years ago, when your father brought you from Mexico. Bishop is aware of what you feel for each other, but he has never commented anything about it; he is not going to interfere in the decisions you make.

The man smirks at you, trying to clean his face of blood and sweat with a black towel.

“Do I look like I need someone's help?” He teases you, taking some steps closer.

Shortening the distance and leaning on your toes, you reach his ear without touching him.

“I know you can… take care of yourself, but I also know that my thighs could feel so good on top of you”. You whisper with a sensual thread of voice, some seconds before breaking the moment. “But you're a grown man. You can do it alone”.

Having a sip from your drink, you palm his chest twice about giving him your back. Grabbing your waist with a tattooed arm, he bows forward, placing his lips on your ear.

“Why do it alone… when la princesa de los Mayas offered herself? Club business, right?”

“Anything for my club, Pacificador”. You chuckle twisting your neck enough to look at him.

Greeting other Mayans on your way to the clubhouse, you start a race with the man through the hallway, coming into his room. Laughing and feeling happy for the first time in months, when he closes the door and catches you between his arms. Tranq sinks his nose on your neck, having a deep, deep breath of the fruity scent wrapping your skin. You let him take his time to assimilate that you are really there, and that it's not a dream.

“How many time do I have until lose you again for… who knows how many months?”

“Live the moment”.

“I'm doing it, princesa”.

Turning around under his grip, you lift up both hands to caress his chest, with your eyes on your own fingers drawing imaginary patterns.

“Take a shower, while I find the things to…” You point his face for a second, alluding to the wounds.

He nods in silence, pressing his lips on your cheek too close of your corners. You have never crossed the limit, but you can't help fantasizing about how good his tongue must feel against yours, or his hands roaming through your body. Leaving you alone at the center of the dorm, you have to take a minute to calm yourself down, before looking for the medical kit.

You wait for him checking some emails on your phone, finding your new contract ready to be signed tomorrow by morning. But you leave it away over the desk, when Tranq gets out of the bathroom wearing clean clothes. And you could swear that no one fits this good in black. No one. His face looks somewhat better, but his left eyebrow keeps bleeding. Having a seat on the edge of the mattress, next to the medical stuff, you open the kit to take some cotton to wet in peroxide.

“Don' move, okay?”

“And you?”

“What?”

“That if you can move”.

“Of co—”.

Not ending the sentence, he pushes you onto his lap with both hands on your hips. You can't help but leave an innocent laughter escaping from your throat. Your left hand tours his skin cleaning the fresh blood mixed with the short hair over his eye, focusing on the size of the wound to know how many stitches you will need. But one is more than enough. Hank can defend himself pretty well, he's been doing it since ever. You know his story. You know all the shit he has been through over the year, until Padrino called him to join the Mayans. He's also one of the most interesting men you have ever known.

“You were right”. He mutters.

“Yeah, I'm always right”. You reply too low, focused on the simple task. “But exactly, about what I'm right at this moment…?”

“About how good your thighs feel”.

You were so assorted in taking care of him, that you didn't notice his huge and long fingers touching your skin. His thumbs going up from your knees, barely lifting the beginning of your skirt. Then, they go down again, to repeat the ephemeral caresses that speed up your pulse.

“Stop… This looks like the… start of a horrible porn movie”. You complain with a soft laugh, leaving away the cotton inside the medical kit.

“I'm sure it would be the best porn movie of all”.

You lean back some inches, twisting your neck with an incredulous gesture in your face.

“What? My mother didn't raise a liar”. He adds with a firm tone of voice.

“Ay, ya, Hank… Párale, ¿sí?” (C'mon, Hank… Stop, okay?). You laugh again grabbing the small stitch, taking off the security paper to focus again on the gap.

But you can't. His hands keep touring your thighs and it's killing you, torturing you to death. Sticking it over the eyebrow, making some pressure, you crouch your gaze to his attentive dark eyes.

“What?”

“What if I can't stop?”

“Look, there is a line between us”. You remark with a hand among your chests. “And we can't cross it”.

“Tell me I'm not crazy”. He says pulling away some bristles of your hair, behind your ear. “Tell me that you feel the same”.

“What would solve that?” You sigh, closing your eyes, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“Nothing. But I just want to know if you have ever imagined a life together. That it wasn't only me”.

“I do. I do so many times that I find myself talking to you, as if you were with me in New York. In the kitchen, in the living room, in the bed… But then I realize you're not there, and my heart breaks a little more”.

“Why don't you call me? Why don't you text me?”

“For what? For… make it real five minutes? Then I would hang up the call and still be alone".

“You know I could leave the club and move to the big city, for you”.

Yes, you know. You know that he would leave everything for you. He can easily find a normal job, with his skills and his personality. But you know that he loves the Mayans; his brothers, his family. The mexican brings you back to reality when his lips peck your collarbone. Gently and slow.

“I bet no one can make you feel like I do”. He soughs between dearly kisses, dragging his hands on your thighs, until his wrists disappear under your skin.

His thumbs stretch both sides of your legs, nailing his other fingers under your buttocks.

“I bet no one can touch you like I do”.

His rapturous voice intoxicates you completely, closing your eyes again and focusing on his caresses. Traveling his mouth to your neck, leaving some short kisses there.

“I bet you're so wet right now because of me”.

“Hank…” You gasp totally lost in the way his right hand has to go a little down.

You can't lie. It's the first time he goes so farther, and he already has you begging in silence for something else, however slight. His forefinger continues over your panties, down to your core to press it lightly. A soft moan dies in your throat with his teeth trailing your skin. He knows exactly how to play with your mind to drive you crazy.

“Just one second”. He implores you muttering it, not needing a single word from you to know what you want him to do.

With the help of a second finger, Tranq pulls aside the fabric, sliding the longer one inside you; so slow that you can feel perfectly how it makes its way between your tightness. You moan again kissing your chin, until reaching the height of your lips.

“This feels so much better…”

“Hank…”

He ignores you, pulling down his finger to thrust it again, drinking every gasp, every sob that comes from your mouth. You are conscious that this shouldn't be happening, but four months has been too much time. You used to conform yourself with a light touch from him, a kiss on your cheek, a quick hug. But now, you can't handle the necessity you have developed by having so much distance between you two. And you want more.

“Stop, please…” Fortunately, your brain manages to make a connection with your mouth.

“You sure?” He asks, somewhat disappointed.

“We can't”. You shake your head, growling pitifully when you feel the emptiness wrapping you again.

The mexican nods then, supporting both palms of his hands on the mattress, pulling his gaze away from you.

“I'm sorry”.

“It's okay, princesa”.

He's not angry at you, but at the separated lifes you have to live because of your father. Because you can't lose him, even if it means to lose yourselves. Getting up from his lap, you put your clothes on well, accommodating your hair behind your shoulders to pick up the medical stuff. Grabbing your phone from the desk, you leave the dorm with your legs shaking. More because of the rage, than because of the pleasure, for short it was.

Reaching the bar, you take a Jose Cuervo bottle from it, to hide inside the Templo. The only place where no one is going to come in tonight. The Mayans are too busy enjoying the party and the bitches hanging around. Almost closing the door, you fall down on the leather sofa, opening the tequila to have a long sip until the liquid burns your throat. He has made it real for a moment and you're feeling unhappy like never before.

The salty tears flow in your lips, without knowing when you started to cry. It's terrible shit carry something like that for six years, touching it with your fingertips, to see that you're losing it out of sheer cowardice. And, what could be worse? Lose your father, who has loved you unconditionally, or lose the man who you love unconditionally?

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #hank tranq loza #hank tranq loza x reader #tranq loza x reader #tranq losa x reader

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destinys-lies · 4 years ago

Text

Great Job, Internet! by destiny’s lies

Disclaimer:

Boku no hero academia and its characters do not belong to me, but Kōhei Horikoshi. Any images used are credited to their original owner(s).

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Prompt:

Day 3: Haunted—Superstition

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Author’s Note:

Just an Izuocha drabble to help improve my writing skills. I chose to do superstition.

A friend of mine (she wants to be anonymous) helped me out a lot with this story, so thanks! She made it really fun for me to write this. Also, she says, “Don’t break glass.” I hope you guys enjoy this story!

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

Synopsis:

Izuku knew death was inevitable but he didn’t expect for it to come so soon and be so painfully stressful.

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Izuku sat alone on the couch, staring at the television screen. A show about haunted houses was playing. He was never the biggest fan when it came to the spooky and paranormal, but he had to admit, it was interesting to watch.

Multiple pinging sounds echoed throughout his house. It was his phone. Someone must’ve texted him.

With a tired sigh, he got up from the couch and sauntered upstairs to his bedroom to find his phone lying on his bed. He picked it up and looked at the several messages covering the screen.

They were all from Ochako.

A slight smile crawled onto this face. She was always thinking about him. He let his gaze crawl up to the pictures of him and Ochako hanging on the wall. Each picture held a precious memory from their past. He was so lucky to have her in his life.

Holding his phone in one hand, he reached the doorknob. His elbow bumped into a wall, causing a picture to fall onto the ground. The frame broke. His shoulders twitched by the unexpectedly loud volume of the sound. The shattered frame contained a picture of him from his younger years.

He thought nothing of it. He’d come by later to clean it. Closing the door behind him, he walked downstairs, reading the messages that Ochako had sent. She wanted him to go to the grocery store to get some ingredients to make for dinner later. He texted a message back.

Izuku would have no problem with that, he’s done it at least a thousand times. Locking the door behind him, he merrily walked down the sidewalk.

Eventually, he reached the end of the sidewalk. Beside him stood a pole with a button that allowed pedestrians to cross. He pressed the button and waited for the light to turn green.

Once the light turned green, Izuku checked both directions before proceeding. Cars on both sides of the crosswalk stood still, their engines quietly rumbling. Certain that he was in the clear, he walked down the crosswalk. The sound of loud screeching startled him. He quickly glanced in the direction to see a big, black truck speeding towards him. The driver carelessly honked the horn, showing no signs of stopping or slowing down.

Without wasting another second, he jumped out of the way onto the sidewalk. His heart violently thrummed in his chest as he glanced behind to see the speeding truck fade into the distance. He sat on the curb, trying to catch his breath before standing up.

He wiped off the dirt from his pants. A large, jagged hole in his jeans was visible on the side of his jeans.

“Great,” he grumpily muttered. “Just what I needed.”

With a huff, he continued his way onto the grocery store.

* * *

Returning from the grocery store, Izuku went on his merry way home. The sound of rushing water caught his attention and turned to look at the large pond lying in the center of the park.

I’ll cut through the park. It’ll take me home faster and the scenery looks great.

He walked up to the pond until he spotted a weird object sticking out of the pond. He leaned in to get closer until he felt a shove from behind.

“Whoopsie!” a person exclaimed before timorously dashing away.

He dove headfirst into the pond.

It was nothing to worry about though, it was just a pond. Well, that’s what he suspected. However, when he fell in, he realized the pond was way deeper than he expected. He flailed his arms as the grocery bags he clung to acted like cement bags, dragging him down. Realizing he had to sacrifice his food for his life, he let go of the bags, letting them sink to the bottom of the pond as he swam up to the top.

Emerging from the murky water, Izuku began coughing up water as he took big gulps of air.

“Today…is...really...not...my day,” he panted, trying to catch his breath.

He needed to vent to someone. Thinking of Ochako, he pulled out his wet phone to text her. He pressed the power button in an attempt to turn it on, but the water ruined it. The phone stared at him blankly.

“Are you fucking serious?!” he groaned, clenching his other hand into a fist.

He put away his phone and stomped back home, furious and soggy. The crack of thunder warned him about the impending rain. Then it rained. He began rushing home, the sound of heavy raindrops falling onto the sidewalk.

He stopped running to catch his breath before another crack of lightning struck a few feet in front of him, hitting a tree. He stood there in shock, staring at the charred tree before collecting himself and walking again. He heard a loud shout behind him and turned towards the sound, nearly getting hit by the tree that the lightning struck.

“SHIT! SOMETHING’S OUT TO GET ME!”

He dashed the rest of the way home, locking the door behind him and running up the stairs. He logged on to his computer, trying to get his mind off the disastrous series of events that occurred. His mind wandered back to the frame he shattered earlier.

Izuku decided to look through new frames on his computer to get his mind off everything. He saw a link from a discussion forum that piqued his interest. Curious, he clicked on it and began reading it through.

The guy on the forum was talking about all the things he had experienced. Strangely, all the stuff this guy mentioned he had experienced, all because he broke a picture frame. The post was five years old. He scrolled down the chat to see what the guy did to stop this “curse,” but he didn’t see any updates.

Izuku quietly read the post aloud, “When glass breaks, it’s already too late. Your life is tangled in a new fate. A new life full of despair and agony awaits until you fall and never rise again. That is when the curse breaks but at that point, it is already the end because you’ll be dead.”

DEAD? he thought. All those things that happened to him—they were because of breaking that picture. Another crack of thunder lit up the sky. “I’M GOING TO DIE!” he cried.

* * *

A few hours later, Ochako entered the house, closing the door behind her. Work had been tiresome and stressful. She closed the door. It was dark. That’s strange, she wondered. Typically Izuku is up at this time waiting for me.

She turned on the lights and looked at the couch. There in the murky darkness was Izuku covered in blankets and quivering in fear. His bloodshot eyes stared down at the ground. Her smile fell into a frown.

“Izuku?” she sympathetically asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to die, Ochako,” he whimpered as he slowly rocked himself, hugging his legs close to his chest. “I’m going to die.”

“W-What? Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know, but someone’s trying to kill me. They’re after me—they all are.”

“Izuku, honey, who’s after you?”

“EVERYONE!”

“They tried to kill me with a truck! They saw me b-but they s-still ATTACKED ME! They want me to die, Ochako!” he panicked, viciously trembling. “T-THE THUNDER! THE THUNDER TRIED TO KILL ME! I UPSET THEM OCHAKO! I UPSET THE GODS! I don’t know what I’m going to do, Ochako. Should I go by a different name? Should I just wait f-for it h-happen? Wait to just die? I’m not going to die, Ochako! I’M NOT GOING TO DIE! I CAN’T DIE! I can’t die by a stupid picture!”

He waved his hands frantically, rambling on and on about the endless possibilities of dying before finally breaking down into tears. Ochako silently stared at him. She walked over to him, sitting beside him and embracing him in a hug.

“Hey Izuku, it’ll be alright. You’ll be okay.” Ochako gave him a reassuring smile. Izuku tried to smile back, but the stress of the day made it difficult.

Ochako gestured towards the door. “I think you need some fresh air. Let’s take a walk.”

Izuku followed Ochako outside, sticking close beside her. The heavy rain was now a drizzle. Ochako liked the rain, it was one of her favorite things. She always carried an umbrella with her.

Together, they walked down the sidewalk and Ochako put away the umbrella when the drizzle stopped. The streets were damp and the air was still scented with the smell of rain.

Ochako giggled as she splashed a puddle on Izuku, trying to lighten the mood. Izuku usually would’ve laughed along with her, but he was too busy watching a large dog. Its leash looked worn and loose from years of stretching it. The dog aggressively barked and growled as the two passed by. It pulled on the leash, lunging at Izuku with blood in its eyes.

Ochako realized what Izuku was worried about, so she offered to walk on the other side of the street, away from the dog.

Then all of the sudden, the dog’s leash snapped and it charged at Izuku. He ran as fast as he could run, adrenaline pushing him all the way back home.

A few minutes later, Ochako arrived, a guilty expression donning her face.

“The dog’s owner told me that he’s never acted like that before, he’s usually a sweet dog,” she worriedly explained. She shut the door behind her and walked over to Izuku, who was anxiously sitting on the couch with his face in his hands.

“It’s alright,” Izuku assured her. “I just must’ve done something to upset him.”

He chuckled nervously trying to reassure Ochako. Ochako let out an exasperated sigh. He was doing it again. She knew him too well, he was trying to hide his problems for her own ease. She wasn’t going to let it go though.

“It’s going to be okay.” She smiled comfortably at him, gently rubbing his back.

“I don’t want to die,” Izuku cried.

“You’re not going to die,” Ochako told him, leaning closer to him. She pulled a charm out of her pocket and placed it into Izuku’s hand. “Here,” she said. “Have this.”

Izuku stared at the rainbow-colored bracelet. “What is it?” Izuku asked, looking down at it.

“It’s a good luck charm. It’ll keep you safe,” she told him. “It kept me safe when I needed it. Now you need it.”

“Ochako?” Izuku stared into her soft, brown eyes, his mouth breaking into a small smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem, honey,” she replied before placing a kiss on his cheek. “Anytime.”

#izuocha #izuocha h/c week #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #fanfiction #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #day three #haunted #superstition #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha #izuocha hurt/comfort week #izuku x ochako

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rosemary-morgan · 5 years ago

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Charles Smith X F.Reader: The cry of his dove

(pictures found on pinterest. Charles picture is mine 😋)

Good day 🌻 I hope you are all doing fine 🖤 I hope you will enjoy this story with Charles Smith. Special thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤

Warning: hurt / comfort, angst, but also fluff

Please excuse my mistakes. English isn’t my native language

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The cry of his dove

"I will be back soon." "I hope you will bring a big deer for Mister Pearson's pot!" You grinned cheekily as you said that, and you gave Charles a gentle kiss on his soft lips. The young man smiled, holding his arms gently around your waist as he looked into your eyes. You were in a relationship since five months, and you both were very happy together. "I will do my best." He gave you one last kiss before withdrawing from the embrace and leaving the camp with Arthur. With a satisfied sigh, you went back to your daily work. Together with Tilly, you sewed a few torn items of clothing. "Oh, damn it! I can't see the eye!" You tried to push the thread through the eye of the needle, but you always failed. "Let me help you," said Tilly, taking the needle and the yarn from your hand. Tilly immediately managed to pull the thread through the opening, and you thanked her after she handed it over to you. "Hmm, very strange", you murmured. Sewing was very difficult for you today, although you were very good at it. Tilly hadn't missed that either. "You should stop reading at night, Y/N! The dim light will only damage your eyes!" You sighed softly, nodded to the young woman. You knew that reading at night was not healthy for the eyes, especially if the letters were written very small. But you loved reading books very much, and you didn't want to rest until you have fed your brain with new knowledge. "I know that, but I don't have time to read during the day. There's always something to do in camp. So, I only have time for my books at night." Tilly suddenly smiled, looking at you with a teasing grin. "Mister Smith needs to change that urgently! He sure knows what to do, Y/N!" You laughed softly when Tilly said that, shaking your head. "Tilly!"

When evening came, Charles and Arthur returned from their successful hunt. You were lying on the soft fur in your tent, reading a book. When you heard Charles' voice, you smiled and closed the book, placing your fingers between the pages, so that you could remember where to read on. Before you could leave your tent, Charles had already come into it and with a loving smile, he greeted you. "Hello, dove." "Hey." You rose from your spot with the book in your hand. You hugged your darling, looking up at him. Charles sighed in satisfaction when he was finally able to hold your delicate body in his strong arms. The young man covered your face with gentle kisses, and with a happy smile on your lips, you enjoyed every single kiss. Charles was a very tender man, and yet he was so strong, and powerful. "Did you had a nice day, my dove?" You nodded as you gently stroked his cheek. "Yes. It was exhausting but still nice. And you and Arthur? Have you been successful?" Charles smiled. He had kept his promise and brought the biggest deer he could find. "There will be enough meat for the next few days!" You didn't expect anything else from Arthur and Charles. The two were excellent hunters. "What are you reading there?" Charles noticed the book in your hand. You opened the book again and showed it the contents. "About ancient Greece." Charles looked at the book with interest, but the dim light in the tent made it difficult to read. "Oh, I think I will take a look on it tomorrow. The light here is far too bad." You nodded, and you had to admit this light wasn´t a good source. You would take a break for today since your eyes felt very tired, and they even hurt. You closed them for a moment, sighing softly. "I should stop reading at night." Charles agreed with you. The young man had intended to draw your attention to this before. However, he had hesitated because he didn´t want to take away the joy of reading from you. "You know Charles, there is something else we can do tonight", you said with a seductive smile on your lips as you wrapped your arms around his broad neck. Charles placed his hands on your hips, raised an eyebrow, and looked at you with a curious expression. "Is that so?" "Yes," you whispered on his lips, looking into his beautiful eyes. "Something that will give us a lot of pleasure." Your hand slid gently over his chest, and you closed your eyes for a moment when you felt his warm breath on your lips. "Sounds good, my beautiful dove." You sighed softly while he kissed you, feeling that pleasant tingling sensation between your legs. His strong yet so soft hands moved over your hips, and when you deepened the kiss, he was the one who moaned lustfully. But first of all, he wanted to freshen up. The hunting had made him sweat a lot. It was hard for him to part with your sweet lips right now, since his body had already reacted to your tenderness and your beautiful curves. "I'm sweaty, dove. Just give me ten minutes." "Okay," you whispered, smiling lovingly. "It won't take long," whispered Charles as he took your hand, kissing your fingers. Then he left the tent, and you waited impatiently for Charles. You were looking forward to making love with him tonight...

Three days later, you noticed that your eyes hurt more and more. Now you also had a headache, which was beginning to worry you. You also felt that your view was especially weak today. What was going on here? "Charles?" The whole thing worried you, and you decided to search for Charles. If you weren't feeling well, his closeness and his calm nature always helped you to feel better. Charles was chopping the wood, splintering it with little effort. "Charles?" When the young man heard your voice, he stopped working and turned his head to you. He put the ax on the ground when he saw that worried expression on your face. "Hey, what is wrong, my dove?" "I don't know, Charles. My eyes have been hurting since a few days, I have a headache, and I see everything a little blurry today." Of course, hearing that wasn't nice for Charles either, and he starts to get worried about you. He cupped your cheeks softly, stroking your skin with his thumbs while looking into your eyes. "Maybe we should visit a doctor? He will take a closer!"

You nodded. "Yes, that's why I came to you. I don't want to go to town alone." You had to admit that you were afraid of what the doctor would tell you. You needed Charles by your side, and without hesitation, he agreed. "Of course." Charles led you to the horses and asked you, if he should take you into town with Taima. You thought this was a good idea since you couldn't ride alone at the moment. After Charles sat on Taima, he helped you to get on his horse. "When did these ailments start, Y/N?" Charles asked as he slowly led Taima out of the camp. You leaned your chin on his shoulder, sighed softly. "Three days ago..." "Oh, my dove. Why didn't you tell me about it?" Charles was right. You shouldn't have waited so long to see a doctor. "I thought I would be fine soon." But on the contrary. It only got worse. The way to Saint-Denis was long, but Charles knew about a good doctor, and no matter how expensive this visit will be, he will pay any price. Your health was a priority.

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"Well, Miss L/N, you will need glasses!" After doing a few tests with you to check your vision, the doctor quickly noticed that there was a weakness, and he would take care of this problem immediately to prevent deteriorating. You knew that these glasses would cost you a lot. Doctor Baker went to his desk to write some notes. "You can come and pick them up on Wednesday," he said before turning back to you. "You are still very young. Pay attention to your eyes! The pain comes from overwork, which is completely normal. Without glasses, of course, they got worse. But that should be fine in the next few days." You were very relieved to hear this man's words. Your fear of bad news had given you a stomach ache. "It is important that you take care of your eyes in the next days. Don´t read, especially not in a bad light!" You cleared your throat when the doctor said this to you, looking at you sternly. "I will also prescribe eye drops for you. This will help you if your eyes get dry, and start to hurt again." The older man tore off a sheet of paper from his notebook, and handed it over to you. "I'll see you on Wednesday, Miss!" "Thank you, Doctor Baker!"

Charles was already waiting for you. What would the doctor say to you? And your eyes? Would the doctor be able to solve the problem? Charles sighed heavily, stroking his face. Many thoughts troubled the young man. When you finally left the doctor's office, Charles looked at you with a worried expression. But when you gave him a gentle smile, he relaxed a bit. "So? What did Doctor Baker say?" "He has forbidden me to read the next few days. I have to take care of my eyes!" Charles nodded while you gave him the key information. "And I'll have to wear glasses!" It will be very unusual for you for the first few weeks, but you had no other choice. "And when do you get these glasses?" "I'll pick then up on Wednesday. Until then, I have to look for another amusement." "I'm sure you'll find one", said Charles, leading you to Taima. "And that would be?" You asked, looking up at Charles as he sat on Taima. The young man grabbed your arm and pulled you on Taima's back. "Oh, well. The last night was a good option. Don't you think?" You giggled softly, placing your arms around his stomach. "It was fantastic", you whispered into his ear and biting softly into his earlobe, which made Charles groan softly. "Let's stay here for a while, handsome," you said, as your tender fingers stroked his muscular chest. "Maybe we should spend the night in Saint-Denis? In a cozy hotel room?" Charles liked your idea. In the camp, you were constantly followed by the curious eyes of your friends. But you would be undisturbed in a hotel, and Charles was looking forward to it. "All right, my dove. Sound very good." Charles led his horse through the streets of Saint-Denis to bring you to a quiet and cozy place...

Days passed, weeks passed, but there was still something wrong with your eyes. And it had gotten worse. You received your glasses three weeks ago, and it had been of great help to you. But gradually, your vision became weaker and weaker, so that you had great difficulty with reading or writing. Even tasks like sewing were not possible for you, and you started to worry. And today was particularly bad. Everything seemed blurry to you, and your eyes started to hurt again. You had already stumbled across various items today, and you feared that some of the people in the camp wouldn´t be very happy with your clumsiness. Luckily Susan hadn't seen anything. But your current misfortune didn't seem to be over yet. It was already getting dark, and you had forgotten to bring hay to the horses. You grabbed a bundle that was heavier than it looked, and brought it over to the animals. You didn´t notice the burning oil lamp that stood on a box next to one of the wagons. When you passed it, you accidentally knocked it down with your hay bale, and the lamp broke. The fire immediately finds a path across the meadow, and within seconds it started to burn. The horses became restless, alerted the others in the camp. "Oh my god! NO!" Panic overwhelmed you. "FIRE!" Hosea and Susan immediately ran to the horses. "What is going on here?!" Susan was terrified to see the fire. "Mister Pearson! Mister Morgan! We need help here! Everyone! Come here immediately!" Hosea pulled you aside, and you were completely horrified by what you have done. "Y/N! Are you okay?" You shook your head, and your pretty eyes filled with tears. That was your fault. How could you not have seen the burning lamp? "Y/N!" Charles came running to you, worried that something might have happened to you. "What happened? Are you hurt, Y/N?!" "No, I'm fine..." Charles cupped your cheeks, gently stroking your forehead with his thumb, and looking for visible injuries on your face. The others had already put out the fire. Fortunately, they had acted quickly, preventing a tragedy. "Miss L/N!" Susan came right up to you, with a stern expression on her face, and you heard from her voice that she was very angry. "How did that happen?!" "I'm sorry, Miss Grimshaw! That was an accident! I- I..." "What's wrong with you?! Can't you do a job without turning it into a disaster?!" Susan's words hurt you deeply because the feeling of being useless for this camp was getting worse every day. You said nothing when Susan scolded you. But Susan wasn't the only one who complained to you. "You bloody brat! Are you stupid?!" Charles's expression darkened when Micah started insulting you. He immediately stood protectively in front of you, frowning at Micah. "What did you say?" "Easy, boy! I'm just saying that she nearly killed us all!" "Don't be ridiculous, Mister Bell! Shut up and start supporting this camp with hard work and money!" Susan may have scolded you, but she won't allow Micah mocking on you. This was all too much for you, and you wanted to be alone now. You sobbed loudly as you pushed past Charles and Micah. "Y/N!" Charles looked after you as you disappeared into your tent. Charles gazed at Micah before leaving this place to check on you. He heard you cry when he stood in front of your tent, and it hurt him terribly. "Y/N? May I come in?" You didn't answer him. You were unable to talk at the moment. But that didn't stop Charles from joining you. The young man sat next to you, while you hid your face in the pillow, crying softly. "Y/N..." He stroked through your hair, moving his hand gently over your back. "What is wrong with me, Charles?" You turned on your back, looking up at him with flushed cheeks "I'm scared! Something is wrong with me, Charles!" Charles couldn't bear to see you suffering like that, and he couldn't give you an answer to your question. He also had noticed that something changed... and not for the better. There was no doubt that your vision had worsened, and that it frightened you. He was also scared. "Y/N, I'll take you to Doctor Baker tomorrow!" said Charles as he held your hand. You sighed softly, and you knew that Doctor Baker was your only hope. Maybe he could help you. "I'm scared, Charles! What if it gets worse?" "That's why we're going to Saint-Denis tomorrow! To prevent that!" You nodded, then turned on your side and tried to calm down a bit. You wouldn't be able to forgive yourself for what happened earlier. Something more terrible could have happened. "Charles, please, hold me!" The young man lay behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your delicate body, and buried his face on your neck. He was also afraid for you, but he had to be strong to give you courage. "I'm with you, my dove. I won't let you down." Charles's soft and gentle voice calmed you down, and eventually, you fell asleep in his arms.

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The bright light shone directly into your iris, and Doctor Baker seemed extremely worried today. He was very quiet, and that worried you. Everyone knows that if a doctor was silent, something was wrong. "Miss L/N, can you tell me if you have ever suffered from any serious illnesses in the past? For example Scarlet fever?" You had to think for a moment. "Uhm, yes. I once had this fever. That was about three years ago. Why are you asking me about that, Doctor Baker?" You hardly dared to ask him because you felt that something bad was waiting for you. Doctor Baker took a deep breath, moved away from you, and stared on the ground for a moment. "I noticed a change in your eyes, miss." "So?" You were very tense and your heart started beating like crazy. "Doctor, what's wrong with me?" "Miss L/N, it is very uncommon for adults to get this fever, but if they get it, they will suffer the consequences years later!" Consequences? You suddenly felt dizzy, and you took a deep breath. You glanced down, tried to suppress your tears. "Doctor Baker! Please..." The older man looked at you with pity as he sat across from you. "This disease has destroyed many nerves... I'm sorry, child. But it will affect what eyesight you have left, eventually leaving you blind" You couldn't believe what you heard. That couldn't be the truth! This had to be a nightmare! Good, God! You didn't even know how to respond to this horrible news! Your legs and hands started to tremble, and you burst into tears. Why is this happening? "W- what are you saying, Doctor? I'm going to be blind?!" "I'm sorry, child. I wish I could help you, but..." "NO!" Anger came over you, and you felt the fear of the darkness which will soon take over your life. "But, there has to be something you can do! Doctor Baker!" Doctor Baker wanted to help you, but there was nothing he could do for you. He was so sorry for you. You were so young... way too young. "I'm very sorry, miss." "NO! WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS?!" You didn't want to accept your fate. You were lost without your eyesight! You would only be a burden for the gang! They would have to take care of you constantly! And Charles? What should Charles do with a woman who was unable to see? All of these questions and thoughts tormented you right now, and you were very afraid of being abandoned by everyone. "Miss, please! Calm down. I'll talk to your husband about this problem." "No!" Nobody should know anything about this! You were too afraid of being rejected by your family. "Miss L/N, it would be better if..." "I said NO!" You didn't want to yell at the doctor, but you were upset and scared. Your life would soon be a place full of darkness. You rose from your seat, and you wiped the tears from your cheeks. You gave Doctor Baker money for his services. You sobbed quietly, knowing that it was wrong to hide the truth from Charles. "Goodbye Doctor!"

Before you went out to Charles, you tried to calm down. You sighed heavily, wiping the tears from your cheeks before you place your glasses in the right position. "So? What does the doctor say?" Charles looked at you with concern, but you pretended that everything was fine. "My eyes aren't used to these glasses yet." Charles was very confused when he heard that. He might not be a doctor, but he felt that you weren't being honest with him. "Y/N?" He reached for your wrist, and when you looked up at him he recognized your forced smile. But before Charles could say anything, you spoke first. "Don't worry, Charles. He told me to be patient and to take care of my eyes." "And the pain? Where does the pain come from?" Charles gently stroked your cheek, and at the very moment, you deeply regretted having lied to him. "As I said... The pain comes from the fact that my eyes haven't got used to the glasses yet." "Hmm..." he murmured, still looking at you with concern. You seemed to be hiding something from him. "Let's go back to camp, Charles. Okay? I'm tired, and I want to rest for a while." Charles sighed softly, eventually consenting. "Okay, my dove. Let us go back to camp then."

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Your eyes worsened in the coming days until you were finally unable to see anything. Everything you see was blurry. It had gotten so bad that you couldn´t see the faces of your friends anymore. The people around you were slowly becoming shadows, and only by their voices, you recognized who was talking to you. Of course, this also had a bad influence on your work at the camp. Even Susan was worried about you and didn't put you under too much pressure. Susan had seen that you were trying hard to get your work done. You sat far away from the others, right on the edge of the lake, and you cried bitterly. You tried to fight your fate, but you had to realize that you were powerless against it. It was only a matter of time before Dutch would throw you out of the gang, and you were afraid of it. You would only be a burden for everyone. "Y/N... Why are you hiding from us? From me?" You heard Charles behind you, wondering how you could miss his footsteps. The young man sat next to you on the thick tree trunk, and you knew it was time to tell him the truth. "Oh, Charles..." Your voice was just a whisper, but Charles heard the fear in it. He placed his arm around your shoulders and pulled you to his chest. You cried bitterly in his arms, and your whole body trembled with fear. "You didn't tell me the truth, Y/N. Why?" "Because I'm scared, Charles. I'm so scared!" The young man stroked your hair gently as you buried your face in his chest, sobbing softly. "Charles... the doctor said... he..." God! You didn't want to repeat the doctor's words. Nobody could feel your pain and your fears. The idea that total darkness would soon rule over your life was terrible. You looked up at Charles, but you couldn't see the face of this beautiful man. Everything was blurry, completely blurry! "I barely recognize your face, Charles!"

You withdraw from his embrace, took off your glasses, and threw them on the ground. "Y/N?" "These glasses won't help me anymore, Charles! Do you understand what I´m trying to tell you?!" Charles fell silent immediately, swallowing hard as he watched you covering your face with your hands. You cried so bitterly, and Charles didn't know if he really wanted to know the truth. "I... I'm going to be blind, Charles! BLIND!" Words got stuck in his throat, his heart stopped for a moment and he thought someone would tear his heart out of his chest. He was shocked! Sighing heavily, Charles stroked his face, and now he was the one whose tears were running down his face. "The world will soon be a place of bitterness for me! Colorless! Unknown voices without faces!" You threw yourself into the protective arms of your loving boyfriend. "Charles! Please, don't leave me! I'm so afraid!" Charles holding you tightly in his strong arms and closed his eyes, while assuring you, that he would never leave you. He was the man who loved you, and he would stay by your side. "Never, my dove! You shouldn't even think about that!" "Hold me tight, Charles! Please, hold me tight!" This moment was hard for both of you because it was only a matter of time before darkness will come for you...

And it happened a few days later when you woke up early in the morning. You felt the sunlight on your soft skin, but you couldn't see it. Everything around you was black. You panicked, crying for Charles as you pushed the blanket away from your body. "CHAAARLLLESSS!" And Charles, who had been awake for hours, was drinking his coffee with John and Arthur when he heard your screams. The three men immediately hurried to you. Charles feared the worst, and the moment he saw you he knew what had happened. "Y/N!" "Charles! Charles! I can't see! I can´t see!" You cried, shouting his name over and over again, until he finally dragged you into his arms. "Y/N! I'm here! I'm with you!" Arthur and John stared at you in shock, didn't know what was happening to you. "Charles! What´s going on?! What is with Y/N?!" Arthur wished he could do something for both of you, but Charles wanted to be alone with you. "Please, leave us alone," said Charles with a clear trembling in his voice. Your tears, your desperate cries for help broke his heart. "I can't see anything! It's so dark, Charles! I'm scared!" "Shh... I'm with you, my love. I'm with you..." "I´m scared! Hold me tight!" Charles kept stroking your head and trying to calm you down, but he wasn't able to. "It's so dark! Help me, Charles! Please, help me!" He glanced one last time at Arthur, who recognized the tears in his friend's eyes. Arthur swallowed hard, looking down before leaving the tent with John...

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Complete darkness surrounded you. You felt empty, useless... and lonely. You could only hear your friends' voices, but you could feel their pitiful looks on you. And the way they dealt with you slowly but surely, drove you insane. They treated you like a fragile doll. The lunch that Mister Pearson had brought you today, you had thrown on the ground. You got so angry when Mister Pearson tried to treat you like a helpless child. But now you were very sorry that you treated him that way. This darkness slowly changed you. It made you bitter, and you were angry with life. What had you done in life to be punished like this? You had only left this tent in the past five days if you had to do it urgently. "Y/N?" Karen entered the tent without warning, but you didn't answer her. You didn't want to hear cheering words! Nobody would be able to feel your pain! "Why don't you join us by the campfire?" "And then what, Karen?" The blonde woman sighed heavily. She was used to your stubborn manner, but she won´t allow you to continue to feel sorry for yourself! "Drink with us! Laugh with us! For god's sake, Y/N!" Karen raised her voice against you. She was worried about you, she wanted to bring you back to life. "Do you want to sitin this chair forever? And feel sorry for yourself?!" "Why not!" You shouted at her. "My life is no longer worth anything, Karen! Don't you understand that?!" "No! I don't understand that!" Karen walked up to you, grabbed both of your wrists, and pulled you to your feet. "Charles is out there, and he's worried about you! We all love you, Y/N! And we won't let you destroy your own life!" "Get out of here! GO!"

Karen knew there was nothing she could do for you right now. Eventually, she left the tent. But she wouldn't give up on you. You were so young, you were beautiful! You had a fine boyfriend who loved you more than anything else in this world, and yet you wanted to throw your life away! The disappointment was clearly visible on Charles's face when Karen returned at the campfire without you. "I'm sorry." Charles sighed softly, poking with a stick the wood in the fire. "It's okay. Thanks for trying..." What should he do now? Charles wanted to talk to you, but when he got up from his place, he saw that Hosea was already going to your tent. Charles liked this idea. Hosea was a wise man with convincing arguments. That man was his last hope. "Y/N? May I come in?" "Hosea? Yes, of course..." Hosea was like a father to you. He'd never let you down when you needed him. However, you doubted that he would be able to help you this time. You heard Hosea gasping, as he sat on a box next to your chair. He looked at you, seeing your tearful eyes. There were still traces of tears on your cheeks. "You know why I am here?" "Yes, I know. But..." "No, Y/N! Let me talk!" You instantly fell silent at its stern tone. "t's time for you to live again! You´re not dead, Y/N! You are blind, yes, but that doesn´t mean that your life is over!" You sighed softly at his words, shooking your head. This conversation was useless. You were a prisoner of your own body, and there was nothing he could say to change your mind. "Hosea..." "Accept it!!" "I do!" "But you're doing it the wrong way, my child! You are destroying yourself while we are worried about you! That's selfish, Y/N!" Hosea's words hurt. Being selfish was the last thing you wanted to be. You sobbed softly, and you turned your face away from him. "Look at me, Hosea! I'm just a burden for all of you!" "You will be if you continue to move on with that attitude!" "Stop it, Hosea! I will never be able to read again! Never be able to write again! I will never be able to watch Sean, Lenny or little Jack laugh again!" You burst into tears because you will miss all of this so terribly. "I will never be able to see Charles! His wonderful smile! His pure gracefulness! NEVER AGAIN!" Hosea was far from giving up on you! He wanted to bring you back to life! "But you will be able to touch him, Y/N. You will hear his voice. You will be able to feel his skin! You are alive! Charles is alive!" You sobbed softly, and you slowly opened your eyes. Suddenly, his words made sense to you. "You have someone worth fighting for! And this man is crazy about you, my dear. Charles would do anything for you, but through your selfishness, you will hurt him! I would give anything to see my Bessie again! To hold her in my arms." "Oh, Hosea..." Hosea would never forget his wife, and his loss was immense, but he stayed strong, and he was right: You still had a chance to be with Charles, even if you couldn't see him. But you could touch him, feeling his skin on yours, his soft lips on yours. Suddenly you recognized your wrongdoing, and you sought comfort in Hosea's arms. "Dad..." Hosea was not angry with you, but he asked you to participate in an active life. He wanted you to continue working in the camp. He'll help you with it, just like Charles will. "I want to see Charles. Where is he?" You wanted to apologize to him for your behavior, realizing how selfish you had been. "I'm here, my love."

When you heard Charles' voice, you turned your head in his direction, and you smiled sadly. The young man had heard everything, and he was so glad that Hosea convinced you to take care of your life. He walked over to you, and when you felt Charles hand on your cheek, you withdraw from Hosea's arms, and you fell in the arms of your beloved boyfriend. "Oh, Charles..." You clawed your fingers into his long, black hair and breathed in his scent. The scent of thyme and leather. God, you loved his fragrance. Hosea was right. You were still able to feel Charles! "I won't let you down, my dove. I´m with you!" "Please, forgive me, Charles. Forgive me." But Charles cupped your cheeks, stroking your skin gently with his thumbs. There was no need to ask for forgiveness. "No, my heart. Don't ask me for forgiveness. You have done nothing wrong." And nothing would change his love for you. Your bond was intense and unshakable. "I love you, Charles." "I love you too."

#charles smith #charles smith x female reader #charles smith x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #fanfiction #fluff #angst #hurt and comfort

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years ago

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The Magic of Las Vegas

Day 9 of 2020′s 31 Days of Ficmas. Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the list!

Prompt: Snowflake

Rating: T for sexual situations; nothing explicit

Pairing: 11xRose AU

Summary: A snowstorm in the US Midwest delays eastbound flights just before Christmas, leaving rival children’s novelists stranded in Las Vegas for the night. A single, shared drink leads to far more than the intended one-night stand.

2020 31 Days of Ficmas masterlist

AO3

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Standing in the ladies restroom at McCarran International Airport, Rose blinked rapidly as she waited for the eyedrops to take effect. She’d had a full day in Las Vegas, and not the kind that made for good telly. The last stop on her book tour, she’d soon be on her way towards home and Christmas - provided her flight could stop getting delayed. The tree was up, presents wrapped neatly beneath it, and if the loved one waiting anxiously by the door was her mother rather than a boyfriend… so be it. If nothing else, Jackie made the eggnog strong.

Gathering her things she returned to the gate, hopes falling - it was even emptier than it had been five minutes before, and in fact, only one potential passenger remained, arguing with one of the attendants at the counter. I must have missed an announcement. Shit. Hurrying up to the check-in desk herself, she gave the unoccupied woman her best, kindest smile. “Hi, sorry, is there any update?”

“Cancelled.” The woman, Madison according to her nametag, didn’t look up, typing away at her computer. “The storm in the Midwest is just getting worse, so they’ve decided to try again tomorrow.”

She tried not to groan. Fucking snow. All she wanted was to sleep in her own bed. “Ohkay… Can I get a seat on that flight? Or the next one to London, really. I’m not picky.”

“Boarding pass.”

Rose handed it over, trying not to be irritated; the woman was just trying to do her job, and while her customer service could use some work, it was after one in the morning. Everyone was exhausted.

“Oh!” Madison let out, scanning Rose’s boarding pass. “I’m sorry Miss Tyler, let me find you the next available flight.” Attitude doing a one-eighty, she gave Rose a smile. “My niece is a huge fan of your books. I’m actually the one who introduced her to them.”

Rose merely gave a polite smile in reply; while such a sentiment usually warmed her heart, she’d heard some variation of it from nearly everyone she’d met over her fifteen-day book tour throughout the States. Now, though, she just wanted to go home. I should be halfway to New York by now.

“All set, same seat, leaves at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon with a layover in LA.”

“LA?” Her brow furrowed, trying to picture a map of the country. “Isn’t that the wrong direction?”

Madison nodded, already printing off the new boarding pass. “Yeah, but it’s that with a one-hour layover or Miami, with an eight-hour layover and a plane change. It’ll be fine, and actually does save you time.”

It only took another minute to finalize the transaction, and soon enough Rose was headed for the airport exit, lugging her carry-on with her and so, so glad she’d taken her mother’s advice to keep a set of clothes with her and not check it all. She hadn’t liked the idea of keeping the small rolling suitcase with her when she checked in, wanting to be less bogged down, but now, she was glad to have resisted the urge. Thanks, Mum.

Footsteps behind her caught her attention, and a moment later, the man who’d been talking to the agent next to her pulled astride. “Terribly unlucky, aren’t we?” he lamented in a slightly posher version of her own accent. “Best case is home for Christmas Eve.”

“The storm should be over tomorrow, so it’ll be fine,” she replied politely, taking him in out of the corner of her eye. Roughly her age, he nonetheless had the distinct look of a sixty-something maths professor, complete with tweed jacket and elbow patches. But his eyes were kind, and he was attractive in that tall, lanky sort of way, with floppy brown hair and a bowtie.

“Hope so. I promised my niece I’d be there.” He seemed to deflate slightly, before rallying. “Listen, this may be terribly forward of me, but- would you like to get a drink? I realize it’s ‘Las Vegas’, but the idea of drinking alone at Christmas just seems… sad.”

They reached the escalator then, and Rose took the opportunity of the ride down to consider the idea. And the likely outcome. He was reasonably handsome, if in a dorky way, and certainly seemed kind enough. She could use the release of an anonymous shag – if nothing else, it would probably make for a good story once home.

“Sure. Why not?”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The bleating of the alarm startled Rose awake, her head feeling as though it had been split open, her mouth dry and fuzzy. A lucky swat silenced the alarm, none too soon. “Oh, fuck,” she moaned, sinking back into the mattress and squeezing her eyes shut against the brightness. “Ow.”

A pitiful sound of agreement came from her right, reminding her of how she’d gotten into such a sorry state. As she’d predicted, one drink had turned to two, then three, then… Damn. I actually take the chance on a one-night stand, and don’t remember the actual sex? Just my luck.

“Why is it making that noise,” her bedpartner mumbled, sheets rustling as he shuffled around; a moment later, the heavy weight of his head settled on the dip in her bare back. “Wanna sleep.”

“Flight home. Miss it, and won’t be home ‘til Christmas.” She took another chance at opening her eyes, managing to keep them that way this time despite having to squint. “Better get ready.”

He grunted in reply, instead pressing kisses to her lower back. “I can think of much more enjoyable things we could be doing.”

Rose merely swatted him away, rolling out of bed and managing to land on her feet, if somewhat shaky. I hope I remember his name soon. This might get awkward. “Lovely as that sounds, ‘m not missing Christmas for it.” She stretched her arms overhead, pleased at the lingering ache in certain muscles as her body started to wake up. She might not remember their escapades, but it appeared she’d more than enjoyed them. “Shower.”

He didn’t try to join her, which she was equally happy and disappointed with; she needed some time to let the warm water bring her back to vaguely-human levels of processing ability, but a quickie sounded good too.

This sent her mind down a warm and steamy path, and by the time she’d toweled off and donned a dressing gown, she was very much interested in a morning shag, strolling out to the bedroom to tell John- his name had come to her in the shower, thankfully- about her change of opinion, only to find him standing naked at the desk, hands on his hips.

Taking a moment to let her eyes linger on his generous assets, she didn’t immediately recognize his tense posture. “Something wrong?”

He jumped, turning to face her, eyes going wide and one hand scrambling to cover his package. “NO!” His gaze darted down to the desktop, expression growing a bit more fearful. “Well…”

“What?” Concerned now, Rose stepped up to his side, distracted at first by how good he smelled. How’s that possible, after a night of sex and drinking and hours spent at the airport? Then she looked down, and her heart stopped. “Please tell me that marriage license doesn’t belong to us.”

“Uh… I dunno about you, but, yeah… that’s me.”

Rose read it over again, unable to comprehend what her eyes were telling her. Certificate of Marriage… 22nd of December… Rose Marion Tyler… John Matthew Smith… “I don’t believe it,” she said faintly, looking up at him. “This isn’t- I don’t do this sort of thing.”

“Neither do I!” John protested. “Erm, is that- are you- the Rose Tyler, of the Bad Wolf books?”

Hesitantly, she nodded.

“Ah.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know. It’s just- well- I’m…” He took a deep breath, anxiety clawing at Rose’s stomach as she waited. “I’m J.M. Smith. I write the ‘The Doctor’ series.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, fuck me.” Rose closed her eyes, groaning. Of all the people in the world, I hook up with my closest competitor. They’d spent the last three years dueling on the bestseller’s lists, fighting for first in children’s fiction. It was infuriating, and now here they were, post-coital, and married. This cannot be real. “How?” Then, realizing what she said, her eyes snapped open. “Don’t answer that.”

He nodded. “What… do you want to do?”

“You’re on the same flight I am, right?”

Another nod.

“Let’s just… get ready and go back to the airport. I can’t even begin to think about dealing with this yet.”

Upon arrival at the airport Rose was able to slip away from him, pulling a beanie on and parking herself at the next gate over; close enough to hear the announcements, but hopefully harder to spot. When he rolled up to the gate several minutes after her, obviously looking around, she just sank lower in her chair; thankfully he seemed to overlook her, choosing a seat that put his back to her, and she relaxed marginally.

Pulling out her mobile she connected to the airport wifi, a quick search confirming that marriages in Las Vegas were legal, and worse, were recognized by the British government. Shit. An annulment appeared to be reasonably possible, thankfully not requiring Nevada residency.

Right. So. Once we get home, file for annulment, and if we’re lucky, no one ever needs to know. Including Mum.

Still stowing her carryon bag under the seat in front of her, Rose paid no attention to the person who plopped into the seat beside her, resettling herself before turning to look at who it was – and sighing heavily.

“I’m starting to think you’re stalking me.”

John arched a paper-thin eyebrow in response. “I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me.”

“Oh, gee, what gave you that idea?” Huffing, she turned away from him, lifting the window shade to peer out the window. There wasn’t much to see other than the plane at the next gate and blue skies, but she’d spend every second of the flight staring out if it meant avoiding her seatmate. Husband.

Thankfully, he left her alone until take-off, but the reprieve was short-lived. As she pulled out her laptop to keep working on the next draft of her story, John made a noise beside her.

“Don’t you think we should talk?”

“No.” With more force than necessary, she pecked out her password one-handed, using the other to hide the keys. “What’s to talk about? We go home, we file for annulment, and with any luck, by New Year’s this will be a distant memory, and someday, perhaps even a funny story. But today- today, this is nothing.”

Opening her manuscript, she glanced over to find him staring at her, and angled her body- and the screen- away from him. “Now you’re being creepy.”

“But aren’t you curious?”

“About what?”

“What happened? And why?”

Rose looked at him blankly. “We got drunk. In Las Vegas. And apparently have watched too many movies with that very premise. End of story.”

“I don’t believe that,” John shook his head, fringe falling across his brow. “What if there’s more? What if it was fate bringing us together?”

“God, do you hear yourself? It was a terrible coincidence. We’re competitors. End of story.” She glared at the screen. “It was nothing, it meant nothing, and it will be nothing once we’re home and able to call a lawyer. Now piss off, I have a deadline due.” Shoving earbuds into her ears and cranking some music, she did what she could to drown him – and herself- out.

Focus on work. That’s all that matters right now.

The flight to LA was short, and given that she didn’t need to change planes, she didn’t have to move, though she was given the option to deplane. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed John leave, which relaxed her somewhat; by the time passengers started boarding she’d put the earbuds away and was sitting back with her eyes closed.

A small voice chattering away caught her attention, particularly at the words “and that’s why I like the Bad Wolf books more! Sorry.” Opening one eye to see, she found to her amusement the child, a girl around eleven, was talking to John, settling herself across the aisle from him as he reclaimed his seat.

Her eyes snapped shut, and she kept her breathing deep and even, curious as to his response.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Rose squinted, and was positioned in such a way she could see the girl nod.

“I like the Bad Wolf books too.”

“You do?” For being a pre-teen, the girl had skepticism down pat, and Rose had to hold in giggles.

“Oh, very much so,” John said seriously. “There are lots of books out there like mine for boys- though I try to write so anyone would enjoy- but the Bad Wolf books are special. I think it’s so cool to see a character like that – when I was your age, pretty much all the books of the genre were about boys. But the Bad Wolf books… anyone can connect with Thorn, and see themselves in her- she’s so real. She’s not perfect, and she doesn’t always get it right, but who does? In Book 3- did you read Book 3? Good, I don’t want to spoil it- but at the end… I had almost the same thing happen to me, only it was both of my parents, and Thorn reacted exactly as I did. And above all – never apologize for liking something more than something else. Your opinion is exactly that – so as long as you’re not trying to hurt someone, then don’t be ashamed of what you like. Okay?”

The girl nodded, staring at John in fascination. “You really like the books then, huh?”

“I really do.”

“What’s your favorite part?”

John inhaled through his teeth. “Ooh, that’s a difficult one. I think- the one scene I keep coming back to is when Thorn realizes she’s grown apart from her childhood friends. It’s really sad, yeah? But that’s life- nearly everyone experiences that at some point, everyone drifts away from people they loved. I’ve never read of another series or character that makes that moment so visceral. But what about you? What’s your favorite part?”

Turning over so her back was to them, Rose half-listened to the conversation as her mind raced. The scene he’d referenced was fairly small, and by its nature, would only be known by someone who had read the book.

Does John Smith read my books?

Once they were underway and the conversation between her seatmate and the girl had long since stopped, Rose started moving around as if just waking up, complete with yawning and stretching.

“Hi.”

“Oh!” His yelp drew her gaze; he’d been reading, the book snapping shut and quickly tucked out of view, but not before she recognized her own artwork for her most recent release; in fact, the very book she’d been crossing the country to promote. “Hello.”

“Hi,” she repeated, sitting up and looking at him curiously. “Were you reading my book?”

His cheeks flushed, and after a moment, he returned the book to the tray table; based on the bookmark, he’d started it before they’d met, as he hadn’t done much (or any) reading since. “Erm, yeah.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “You’re a fantastic writer.”

“Thank you.” She’d had time to think, about what he’d said about her books, how willing he’d been to discuss them- and not his own- with the young girl who appeared to be flying solo. It had softened her approach towards him- somewhat. “I think there’s a chance we got off on the wrong foot.”

“I agree.”

When he just stared at her, she knew she’d have to make the first move. I was kind of a bitch to him, wasn’t I? “Hi, I’m Rose.”

“John.”

They shook hands, Rose’s skin tingling where they touched.

“So, tell me about yourself.”

He arched a skeptical eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t care, that we’ll just pretend none of this happened. Harder to do knowing things about the other.”

Rose bit her lip, eyes darting down to her lap. “Like Thorn, my dad died, only when I was a baby. Mum always said to hold on to precious moments. And… I don’t trust easy, so clearly, something about you made me give you the benefit of the doubt.” Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze again. “You’ve got until we land in London to convince me to- to extend that faith. If you want to. We’ll see from there. What do you say?”

Green eyes searched hers, and she kept her expression soft, nervous despite her words. They would both be interviewing the other for position of spouse, and suddenly, it was one she wanted to pass with flying colors.

“All right,” he agreed slowly. “Let’s see what happens.”

The next book in each series was a cross-over, where secret agent Thorn, codenamed Bad Wolf, is rescued by an unlikely hero, The Doctor, and his strange-looking timeship, and it is only through a combination of their unique skillsets they’re able to save the day. With cover-art by Rose Tyler and a foreword from John Smith, the book was an overachieving best-seller, outdoing the previous books in each series and earning an armful of awards.

The picture on the back featured the authors with their arms around each other, he in a suit, and she in a white dress.

Both bios, at the end of the book, ended with the same phrase.

And they lived happily ever after.

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #31 Days of Ficmas #31 Days of Ficmas 2020 #ficandchips #Doctor Who #11xRose #11th Doctor #Rose Tyler #AU #Snowflake #The Magic of Las Vegas

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imagineclaireandjamie · 5 years ago

Note

In a later book Jamie & Claire find an orphaned baby, & discuss if Claire wanted/wants another child, whether she's still fertile, & she says she let nature take its course when she returned to Jamie etc. but it didn't happen. What if it had? Claire & Jamie become exhausted older parents - she's well into her 40s in the 18thC @ Frasers Ridge. How do they cope with young babies? What would Bree think as a 20-something arriving to find a baby sibling or two & she's also pregnant?

abreathofsnowandashes said: Hello Lennykins! A bit of a random question but do you think you’ll write anymore of that story you did where Claire and Jamie keep the Beardsley baby? Your initial piece was divine!

svoba asked: I don´t know if there was or is a similar request for it, but … what if Claire and Jamie DECIDED FOR A NEW BABY after they settled in Fraser Ridge (conversation about her sterilization or when Jamie asked her is she wants the baby-girl)? Before/after Bree come through the stones?

Anonymous asked:Imagine Claire having another baby after coming back or explore her raising the orphan she almost kept in the books and the influence of this on Brianna.

There have been quite a few calls over the years to continue my Beardsley Baby fic and now that we’ve at last reached the point of seeing that plotline brought to the screen, I’ve finally written a second chapter (not sure how many more there might be; we’ll see how next week’s episode affects the inspiration).

~Mod Lenny

Part One

The Beardsley Baby - Part Two

**************************************************

Roger had clearly told Brianna about why they had been held up in Brownsville, but perhaps it took seeing them with Julia for her to truly believe him.

“And her mother just… left her? In the snow?” Brianna asked, horrified and clutching Jemmy closer to her chest.

For his part, Jemmy was curious about the small, wrapped bundle occupying what he saw as his place in his grandda’s arms. He reached out and managed to get a fistful of the baby’s blankets before Claire successfully extricated his hand and distracted him by kissing it and then pretending to nibble his knuckles. Jemmy’s giggling soon shifted to squealing and Julia’s face contorted into a cry.

“She purposely left her nearby so we would hear her and find her,” Claire told brianna as she kept her attention on Jemmy while Jamie tended to Julia. “But, yes, she just left. I only hope she didn’t suffer any complications later.”

“I’m not entirely sure she wouldn’t deserve it if she did,” Brianna muttered under her breath.

Jamie made a low grunt of agreement as she loosened Julia’s swaddling blankets and brought her to his shoulder. His large hand rubbed small circles into her tiny back. The days in the saddle, held tight to his chest and stomach against the cold had gotten her used to the smell of him, the sound of his heart beating in her ear, the comfort of his warmth. She settled quickly for him and Claire glimpsed the contented smile that flickered across his face. From Brianna’s frown, Claire suspected their daughter had noticed it too.

“So you’re going to take her in,” Brianna remarked. “That’s good of you. At least you’ve room with the two of you for now. By the time she outgrows it and needs a room of her own, maybe you’ll have more of your house to yourselves again. I, for one, can’t wait to have the cabin back for just Roger, Jem, and I.” She looked over to where Mrs. Bug was busy scolding various children and lecturing their mothers about how they ought to be the ones scolding the children in question.

The space did feel that much more crowded after having spent a few weeks camping in the open air (thought the warmth so many bodies generated wasn’t entirely unwelcome at the moment).

“Thank ye, a leannan, for all ye’ve managed while we were away,” Jamie said, using one hand to keep Julia in place and the other to give Brianna’s shoulder and appreciative squeeze. “That there wasna bloodshed is a minor miracle.”

“I’ll tell you about the geese later,” Brianna replied with a sly smile. She became more relaxed as Claire took Jemmy from her arms.

“How is it you seem to have grown so much in less than a month?” Claire addressed him, earning more giggles.

“He’ll be crawling and walking and getting into everything soon,” Brianna said, resigned. “Time to start baby-proofing everything so he doesn’t fall into the hearth when we’re not looking.”

“Baby proof?” Jamie repeated, slowly while Claire chuckled, rubbing Jemmy’s back.

“She’ll be right behind him in the blink of an eye,” Claire said.

“More like siblings than niece and nephew,” Roger remarked, then shook his head. “Uncle and — no, aunt and nephew?”

“That’s it, I guess,” Brianna said with a bit of obvious discomfort at the thought.

“I’ll go put the wee lass down,” Jamie announced. “A basket will do for now but I’ll have a cradle for her in a day or two. D’ye like the sound of that, Julia? A warm place to lay yer head,” he crooned, shuffling off toward their bedroom with Claire and the others watching him go.

“He’s taken to the wean and no mistake,” Roger said quietly.

“Pretty quick, too.” Brianna reached to take Jemmy back from her mother.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” Claire teased. “I seem to recall you requesting a baby sister on several occasions. I believe there was even a letter to Santa about it once.”

Brianna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, when I was five or six. And I’m not jealous. I’m a grown woman and married with a kid of my own.”

The kid in question began squirming and squealing loudly so that Roger took him and began floating him around the room making airplane noises.

“It wouldn’t be unheard of for you to be a little jealous,” Claire told Brianna, keeping her voice low. “Even if you are an adult with a child of your own. Emotions don’t exactly follow logic. In fact, I believe they often fly in the face of logic.”

“It’s… strange, is all. To see you and Da with a baby that isn’t one of the grandkids. To think of you starting over at your age,” Brianna admitted.

“I don’t know that it’s really starting over when you never did it the first time,” Claire said with quiet sadness.

“I mean… you did the baby thing with me,” Brianna pressed, “and Da… He’s been around babies before.”

“Never had the chance to raise a child of his own,” Claire reminded her daughter. “And it isn’t something he and I have done together, much as we once hoped to. I think… maybe that’s why we decided to take her. That and the fact that we wouldn’t trust the Browns as far as we could throw them after the display we witnessed upon our arrival,” she tried to lighten the mood. “All those little things you learn and share when you’re raising a child together… we never had that.”

“Like how the other person sounds when they’re dead tired and just want the baby to go to sleep so they make exhausted funny voices and sing ridiculous made-up songs,” Brianna recalled with a sigh. “Or when you’re about to get up and they gently push you back down to bed and get the baby for you.”

Claire smiled. “Exactly. The way they look at the baby when they don’t know you’re looking. Or the relief you feel when they lay out the punishment you didn’t have the heart to inflict.”

“Of course, there are also all the little infuriating things,” Brianna added. “Like when he says ‘yes’ after you’ve told them ‘no’ a thousand times.”

“Hmmm, Frank used to do that with you a lot,” Claire reminisced. “Drove me mad. It’s how you ended up with a car at sixteen.”

Brianna smiled. “I remember. I knew exactly which one of you to go to whenever I wanted something.”

“Mmmmhmmm, and someday soon, that’ll be Jemmy playing you and Roger off one another. And you won’t have a television you can stop him watching as punishment. Or records to take away, or—”

“I get it, Mama,” Brianna sighed. “And I’m sorry I played you and Daddy off one another… And I’m glad you’ll get to do all that with Da and this new baby.”

“Thank you, darling.” Claire hugged Brianna and cupped the back of her head momentarily. “You know you’ll always be my baby, right?”

Brianna flushed but smiled. “I know, Mama.”

#Anonymous #;mod lenny #beardsley baby au #featuring: brianna #featuring: roger #featuring: jem

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sunmoonandeddie · 6 years ago

Text

my sweet girl

pairing: 40s!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 13,561

summary: After WWII, James finds you and rescues you from the rest of the world.

prompt: ‘whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’

warnings: swearing, violence, mental illness

a/n: This was written for @whiskey-cokenfanfic‘s 30th birthday writing challenge! Happy birthday and I hope you enjoy!

“What’s on your mind, sweet girl?”

I don’t move from my perch, my head leaning against the cool glass of the bay window. The one I always sit in while I wait for him to come home. The trees are fluttering in the late summer wind, and I can see hints of autumn starting to peek through.

Soon my garden would wither, and I’d have to wait until spring to tend to my beautiful flowers.

I can feel James’s stare from across the room as he sits in his chair. His throne in his little kingdom. If he’s the king in this place, then I suppose that would make me the queen. I have my own little throne in the bay window, with all its pillows. But when he’s home, I prefer to curl up with him in the chair, my legs thrown across his lap and my head tucked into the crook of his neck.

“Sweet girl?”

I turn my head, a little surprised to find his eyes focused on me. “Yes?”

“You’re thinking awfully hard there,” he says, mirth coloring his words. He looks so regal in his suit, his hair nicely coiffed. It’s no wonder that he’s such an important man. “Talk to me.”

Shaking my head, I look back out the window. “Just lost in a daydream, I suppose.”

“Must be some daydream,” he says, the book closing with a resounding snap. His fingers run over his five o’clock shadow as he observes me.

Perhaps he’ll let you help him shave this time.

The brunet leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Now, let’s try this again. What’s on your mind, sweet girl?”

“I…” It’s the usage of his favorite pet name that gets me. Because I like being his sweet girl, and sweet girls are honest. But even so, I’m hesitant. “James, do think your friends would like me?”

“Why do you ask?”

I shrug, my hands twisting in the soft material of my dress. The soft cotton feels so nice. Maybe I’d ask him to pick up more fabric tomorrow. It’s been a few days since I’ve sewn anything and my hands were starting to get restless again. “I’m just curious.”

“Don’t you know the old saying?”

“What old saying?” I ask, brows furrowing as I sat up straight. My mind isn’t very sharp anymore and it’s a little frustrating to know that the old me would’ve known what he was talking about immediately.

He’d take the old you to meet his friends.

James rises to his full six feet and my breath catches. His oxfords are almost silent on the hardwood floor as he saunters over to me. The way he takes his sweet time is reminiscent of a jungle cat—a tiger, maybe—stalking his prey. My face always ends up ablaze whenever he does it, the warm spreading from my cheeks all the way down to my toes. “Curiosity killed the cat, kitten,” he says as he sinks down, one knee on the ground.

A light bulb flickers on in my head. “But satisfaction brought it right back,” I say, lips stretching into a bright smile. With my excitement, I momentarily forget about what I was asking. “James, did you hear that? I told you! I’m getting better every day!”

The smile he grants me sends my heart a flutter, because I know it’s the one he only gave to me. No other person in the entire universe gets to see that smile. “Yes, you are, sweet girl. Yes, you are.”

“But…” I trail off, getting quiet once again as I remember my question from before. I am rather surprised that I do. My mind tends to wander more often than not and I can be so forgetful. “Why can’t I meet your friends?” My hands find his, soft digits running over the calloused lines in his skin. When asking such questions, I’ve learned to be touching him in some way or another. It soothes him. “Are you ashamed of me?”

His eyes simmer as he squeezes my hands. “Of course not. How could you ever think that?”

“I… I watch you leave every day for work, and you always tell me all of your stories about your friends,” I say, eyes dropping once again. If I upset him, I don’t want to be looking into those deep blue eyes. Seeing him upset just makes me upset and that never goes over well. “And I just sit here at home. None of my stories are interesting, and—”

“I find your stories incredibly interesting,” James insists. The setting sun beaming in through the window sets his face ablaze. He’s still got his tan from all the time we’ve spent outside this past summer and I do hope that it’ll stay into the winter. “I always love listening to you, sweet girl.”

“But none of them are any good!” Despite the fact that I’m verging on whining, I can’t bring myself to care.

“What about the one about the bird that got into the house? And you had to chase it around with a broom?” He says, his thumbs gently massaging my hands as they rested in his. “And I love hearing about the books you read. Like The Little Prince and Gone With the Wind.”

I still find it hard to believe, though it’s becoming easier and easier. But then again, I’d believe anything he said as long as he keeps looking at me like that. Like I’m something precious. “Really?”

“You’re an excellent storyteller. Put all mine to shame,” he says, a soft grin spreading across his face. “My friends won’t ever be half as interesting as you.” He presses a gentle kiss to my nose, smirking as I dissolve into giggles. “I love you, sweet girl.”

“I love you more, James,” I say, as all my questions from beforehand are forgotten.

And to be quite frank, I can’t even remember why I asked in the first place.

“—just like this,” James said as he guided my hand. His chest is pressed against my back, his left fingers splayed against my stomach.

It felt good to be touched. I hadn’t been touched in a nice way in so long, and all of his touches were nice. Every time he reached out for me, I immediately leaned into it, whereas with anyone else I might’ve flinched away.

I stared at the royal blue stripe of paint that was now on the otherwise white wall of the master bedroom. “Are you sure you like this color?” I asked, my voice barely audible. I was still a little unsure of where I stood with him, what my role in this house was. “We can still pick another one if you don’t.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he guided my hand once again, painting another thick stripe of paint on the wall. “Sweet girl, I told you that I love this color.” His warm breath tickled my ear. “And this is your house just as much as it is mine. You get to decorate it however you want, remember?”

I nodded, a faint smile lifting my face. “Yes, James. I remember.”

“So tell me, Y/N. What does your dream bedroom look like?” He asked as his cheek pressed against mine. His two day stubble scratched against my soft skin.

Not that I minded.

Any touch from him felt so good.

“There’d be a four-poster bed with a canopy made of white silk. Like the ones I read about in books. And there’d be an ottoman at the end of it,” I said, my mind trailing off as I stared at the newly bought paintbrush in my hand. “All of the wood would be mahogany. And I’d have a vanity. There’d be a piano beside a window so I could play while looking out at whatever view there is. Though I’d prefer a forest.” I paused, my eyes hazy. “I always wanted to learn piano, but mama said it was too expensive.”

“What would you play if you had a piano?” James asked, gently bringing me back to reality as he swayed me like a flower in the wind.

“Everything.”

That night, after the room was completely painted and the walls were dry, the furniture back in place, I tossed and turned. Even with the pile of blankets that covered me, I felt so cold.

So alone.

It felt so strange, trying to fall asleep without being able to hear someone breathing close by. During the war and after, there’d always been at least several others sleeping in the same room as me.

And though I barely slept, I couldn’t tell James. He’d already done so much for me and I couldn’t bear to burden him even more with my sleeping troubles.

But I hadn’t slept in two days.

I’d gotten into the habit of just staying awake until I passed out from sheer exhaustion, and yet release wouldn’t come to me tonight.

I stared at the ceiling, taking a deep breath before making up my mind. I couldn’t keep going on as I was. Dark circles were starting to form under my eyes and I could see the way James’s eyes would linger. He could read me like a book and I knew that he could tell something was wrong.

The floor is cold under my feet, sending a chill up my spine as I make my way across the room. The door opens with a soft creak, and I tiptoed down the hall towards the room James was sleeping in.

For the past two weeks, he’d slept in that room, away from me, and it felt wrong. It had been years since I’d slept with him close by, and I wanted nothing more than to feel his body heat.

But he was determined to make me both utterly giddy with happiness and miserable at the same time. He was such a gentleman, always being so proper. He didn’t do anything more than kiss my hand in the two weeks since I’d come.

It frustrated me to no end.

I hesitated when I raised my fist to knock on his door, suddenly losing my resolve. What if he was angry with me for waking him? What if he said no?

You shouldn’t worry him with your issues.

“But he said—”

You don’t want to be more of a burden than you already are.

I stood there for another long moment before turning to head back to my room. But I’m interrupted by the door swinging open, James’s voice calling out, “Y/N?”

I stopped in my tracks, my shoulders tensing.

“Sweet girl?” He murmured, stepping closer to me. His fingers gently wrapped around my wrist, turning me to face him. His hair is mussed, and his words are still slurred with sleep, but his eyes are alert, searching you for answers. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted, before shaking my head. “But it’s fine. I’ll be okay.”

But his grip on my wrist tightened, stopping me in my tracks. “Hey,” he said as he pulled me back to him. “Talk to me.” When I don’t reply, he adds, “I know you haven’t been sleeping since you got here.”

I just stared at the white tank top that covered his chest, mesmerized by the dusting of chest hair peeking over the neckline. Everyone I knew would be so scandalized if they knew that we were standing there in our pajamas. He wasn’t even in proper sleep clothes, as he lacked the usual button down that would match his silk pants. It was improper, immoral.

But it was thrilling.

He lit a fire in my heart that I hadn’t felt in such a long time. It absolutely terrified me.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed?” James asked slowly, trying to gauge my reaction. We weren’t married, and if being this close while in our pajamas was scandalous, sleeping in the same bed was surely a one-way ticket to Hell.

But I nodded.

A fond smile tugged at his lips as he led me into what was technically the guest room. It was just as bland as the master bedroom, though you knew it was because he’d been waiting to decorate the house until you were there.

I fell into the bed as an angel falls from heaven—knowing that the world would disapprove but not really caring anyway. I knew if my parents could see me at that moment, they’d disown me just for allowing the only man who could ever understand me to wrap me in his arms and lull me to sleep with sweet nothings whispered into my ear.

The next morning, I woke to an empty bed. Despair bloomed in my gut as my hand splayed against the cold spot that James had been in just the night before. The curtains were still mostly shut, though I could see that the sun was almost to it’s high point.

It was almost noon.

You never slept in that long. Hell, you hadn’t slept longer than four hours or so in years.

“—right there.”

I frowned as I heard voices coming from the hall. There were four or five from what I could tell, but I wouldn’t have any true idea until I poked my head out the door.

Taking care to be as quiet as possible, I padded over to the door and cracked it open. Down the hall, a group of men headed downstairs. Once I deemed it safe enough, I creeped down towards the stairwell, wondering if I’d be able to find out what exactly they were doing here.

And also—where James was.

I froze as a floorboard creaked under my weight, though I didn’t hear anyone coming in my direction. I’m almost to the stairs when I glance over at the master bedroom. Its walls are now the royal blue I spent the day before painting it, but that’s not what catches my attention.

It’s the furniture.

With a final glance towards the stairs, I abandoned my earlier quest and found myself standing in the doorway of my room, completely speechless. A long the left wall was a vanity. A mahogany four poster bed was in the center of the room, white silk canopy fluttering in the wind coming from the open window.

And on the right side was a piano.

My mouth fell open in gasp as I stared at the sleek black grand piano that was sitting there like a mirage. The white and black keys shone in the late morning light. It was… stunning.

Why would someone break into the house and leave a piano?

“Do you like it?”

I whirled around to find James standing against the doorway. His face was the picture of calm, but the way his jaw clenched revealed his anxiety. “You…” I swallowed as I glanced back at the piano, almost afraid that it would disappear. “You got me a piano? Why?”

“Because you wanted one,” he said, as though it were obvious.

Shaking my head, I tried to make sense of his words. “Because… What?”

He smiled as he gently guided me across the room, his hand falling to my lower back. The silk of my nightgown felt cool where his hand was. “I told you that whatever you want, it’s yours. Last night, you said that you always wanted a piano.”

“But this is too much. This must’ve cost you a fortune,” I said, but I didn’t fight him as he pulled the bench out for me to sit on.

“Nothing’s too much when it comes to you,” he said. “I have the rest of the furniture coming later today, and I’ll make sure to get you piano books next time I go into town.” His fingers carded through my hair, untangling it as he watched me run my hands over the keys. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” I said after a moment.

James raised his eyebrows, knowing that there was a question on my mind. “But?”

“Why are you doing all of this for me?”

“What do you mean?”

I turned to look at him fully, peering up at him. “You’re doing all these things for me. Why?”

He chuckled as if it were obvious, sinking down onto the bench beside you. “Don’t you see?” He asked, brushing my hair back from my face. “I’m in love with you.” His eyes flickered to my lips and back. “And I will spend the rest of my life taking care of you.”

My days are filled with gardening and books, exploring the estate even though I have found every possible nook and cranny, and playing piano. Lots of piano. But most days, I find myself baking. It’s an easy way to past the time and there’s so many recipes in the cookbooks that line the kitchen shelf that I wouldn’t be able to get through all of them in a decade even if I baked every day. James comes home often to find me covered in flour with lips tasting of sugar.

Singing softly, I make my way to the walk-in pantry. The walls are lined top-to-bottom with everything you could possibly want. Except—apparently—for peaches. “Oh, dear,” I whisper to myself, biting my nails as I search the shelves. I thought that James had grabbed some the last time he went to the grocer but perhaps not. He wouldn’t go again until next week unless I ask him, but I want to surprise him tonight.

Well… Town was only a short walk away. Perhaps…

“No.” My hands fist at my sides. “It’s not safe. Remember what James said.”

But James will be so happy when he comes home to a freshly baked peach cobbler.

“But he’d be upset that I left.”

Just be back before he comes home. Town is only a short walk away.

Huffing, I glare at a jar of olives on the shelf in front of me, growing increasingly frustrated with myself. Arguing with myself was horribly exhausting. I can be so horribly stubborn. James says it’s cute most of the time, but I know when I ask questions he can get so frustrated. “But—”

You’d be back in time for lunch. He won’t be home until this evening, and it’ll be like nothing ever happened.

“Well,” I say, biting my lip as I glance around. I almost feel like the brunet is going to be around the corner, waiting to pop out and catch me in my act of disobedience. “He won’t ever know I’ve left.”

The air around me seems to shift at my decision. In James and I’s shared bedroom, I take care to open the bedside drawer without so much as a creak. After slipping a few coins in the pocket of my dress, I head downstairs. The front door looms in front of me. A beast waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

And even though I’ve walked through that door many a times, I know that today is different. Before, I was only going to the front lawn. I was lying in the cool grass while reading whatever books James picked up for me.

Now, you’re going to town.

“I’m going to town,” I say, butterflies coursing through my stomach. But with the elation, comes a twinge of fear.

You’ll be home before lunch.

I open the door and carefully step out, taking a deep breath as I look at the path in front of me. “Just follow the road, Y/N. Just follow the road.” With the door shut behind me, I take purposeful steps down the drive. My heels click steadily on the pavement and a grin takes over my face. “Follow the yellow brick road,” I sing softly, hands swinging by my side. “Follow the yellow brick road. Follow, follow, follow, follow. Follow the yellow brick road.”

My voice joins with the birds’ as I make my way to town. If I close my eyes for just a second, I can imagine that I’m in a blue and white gingham dress with ruby red slippers, a tin man, lion, and scarecrow at my side.

“We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz.”

The walk to town only takes about thirty minutes or so, but my feet are already beginning to ache. I’m not used to walking in my heels on uneven ground.

The closer I get to where the forest ends, the more anxious I get. As the trees thin out, I find I’m no longer protected from the sun’s harsh rays. My dress is starting to stick to my skin and it’s not the most comfortable thing. Buildings are starting to peek through the trees. Cars are rumbling just up ahead, and it sounds like a monster waiting for me to get closer so it can gobble me up.

Steeling myself, I roll my shoulders back. “We’re certainly not in Oz anymore,” I say before continuing on.

As I walk down the main road, I find my resolve breaking with each person I pass. Their stares make me feel like a spectacle even though I am nothing more than a stranger to them. My hands are beginning to tremble with each step and I hide them in the fold of my dress.

They’re whispering about you.

“Stop it,” I say as my eyes roam the buildings. My eyes light up as I see ‘Harrison’s Grocer’ painted in bright red letters across the top of the building just a little more down the road. “They’re just not used to strangers.”

Maybe it would’ve been better if you had stayed home.

A little bell chimes above the door as I walk in, blushing as everyone in the building turns to me. I nod at them before moving to stand behind the counter.

“Excuse me.”

I’m a little surprised to find a man standing beside me, his eyes ablaze. “Hello,” I say slowly before turning back to look at the produce that lines the walls. Even though I made it to town, my goal is to talk to as few people as possible. I haven’t talked to people other than James for over three years now.

He got you out of that dreadful place and now look at you. Disobeying him.

“You can’t just cut in line,” the man snarls, shocking me enough that I take a step back. The mean look on his face just makes him look even uglier than he already is, with his beady eyes and receding hairline. His breath reeks of tuna.

He’d make a very good villain in a story book.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, eyes widening as I look between him and the two people behind the counter. They seemed to be on the man’s side as they watched me with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t see you.”

He elbows me out of the way, making a point to stand right where I had been, before continuing on telling the grocer what he needs.

James warned you about people like him.

“Shut up,” I huff, glaring down at the ground.

And he was right.

“Excuse me?” The man in front of me whirls around, his eyes feral. His face is getting more and more red and the way his hand is raising terrifies me.

He’s always right.

“I-I was just talking to myself!” I say, rushing to calm down the situation. The other people inside the grocer have gone deathly silent, watching me cower. “I’m sorry!”

The man sneers before snatching the brown bags from the counter. The door slams behind him as he storms out, and it’s quiet for a few moments before everyone resumes what they were doing.

“How can I help you, my dear?” The man behind the counter asks. With his glasses sliding down his nose and his sparkling eyes, he looks very much like what I imagine everyone’s grandfather looks like. I believe mine did, at one point.

He’s probably just as wicked as the man before.

“I-I just want some peaches,” I say, my voice trembling as I dig out the coins in my pocket. They cling softly against the counter and I slide them towards him. “As much as this will buy.”

The middle-aged man’s eyes get as wide as saucers as he looks down at the mess of coins. “This is… This is far too much.”

“I just want some peaches,” I say, my throat tightening. “Please? I want to make a peach cobbler to surprise my husband.”

He must see my panic, because he nods before taking one singular coin. “One bushel of peaches.” The rest are pushed towards me, and I smile as I slide them back into my pocket.

I’m not quite sure how big a bushel is, but my heart stutters as I see the large crate that is placed before me. It’s overflowing with perfectly ripe peaches.

“Do you need someone to help you?”

“No!” I swallow, willing my heart to not beat so rapidly. He seems shocked by my outburst, and I quickly try to cover myself. “I-I can handle it.” I have to stand on my tiptoes to grab the large crate, almost dropping it as I pull it off of the counter. “Thank you!” I call out to the man before pushing my way out of the grocer.

The street is still as lively as ever when I get outside, though I don’t look around as much since I’m too busy trying to carry the peaches. The wood digs into my delicate hands and I know that I’ll end up having at least a few splinters.

You made a fool of yourself in there with that man.

“It wasn’t that bad,” I murmur, rolling my eyes. I’m having to take small, decisive steps down the sidewalk. Sweat is starting to from along my brow and my only reprieve from the summer heat is the cool breeze. “The grocer was nice, at least.”

But now you have to carry that crate all the way up the hill.

I bite my lip as I look down at the yellow-orange fruits. “I’ll be fine. It’s not that long.”

Those men are looking at you.

Frowning, I look up from the peaches and, sure enough, there’s a group of six men staring at me. They’re standing a little further up the sidewalk, leaning against a brick wall. They’re covered in dirt and grime and I can smell the cigarettes that hang from their lips from where I’m standing. My nose turns up at the smell. The cigarettes are cheap, that much is clear. They probably got them from the dollar store.

Thank the Lord James doesn’t smoke those.

“That’s because James has class,” I say softly, thinking about the Cuban cigars he loves so much. “He’d never smoke something so cheap.”

“Where you going, baby?” One of the men calls out to me, and I shrink in on myself.

I know that my husband would never approve of me making myself smaller for other people, but something about those men just screams trouble to me. If the street wasn’t so busy, I’d cross it in order to avoid them.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Ignore them.

“Don’t ignore us.”

Get home. Get home and make your peach cobbler, and everything will be alright.

“Like that dress on ya. Bet I’d like it even better off.”

My skin crawls as I try to walk past them, knuckles white from gripping the crate so hard. Their raucous laughter reminds me of a darker time. Of a time that I don’t like to think about. Ever. I keep my head down, my h/c curls acting as a curtain.

As though you could hide from them.

“I don’t know what to do, Steve,” James says with a soft sigh. His head is pounding and the summer heat isn’t helping. The ceiling fans above aren’t making any difference. “She asked if I was ashamed of her because she hasn’t met my friends.”

His best friend takes a long sip of his scotch, and the brunet’s eyes were drawn to the little drops of condensation that fall down the short glass. “Maybe she should meet us.”

He sputters, disbelief clear on his face. “Have you gone mad?”

“It’s not that strange of an idea!”

“She can’t leave the estate. You know this.”

Steve leans forward, his hands folding together on the table. “What if we came to the estate? Just Peggy and me.”

Their early lunch has already been finished, plates stacked at the end of the table for the pretty waitress to take. She’s young, with lovely blue eyes, but not pretty enough to warrant a second look. They fell silent as she comes around, asking if they want desert before taking the plates and disappearing.

“Come on, Buck,” the blond says, swirling his glass. “Peg and I can come over for dinner some night. Y/N can have girl time with someone who knows the situation.”

James’s suit is feeling stuffier and stuffier by the second. “I just—”

He’s cut off by the sound of shouting outside the window. Across the street, six men are standing in a circle. They’re clearly construction workers, and he briefly remembers that they’re building a new police station downtown.

His heart stops when he gets a flash of h/c curls. He knew that hair.

“Hey, that’s—”

James is up and out of the chair before Steve can finish his sentence, bolting for the door. His own glass of scotch left half-empty on the table.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

I stare down at the peaches as one of the men steps in front of me. I try to step around him, but the others quickly follow his lead and circle around me, effectively stopping me from moving any further.

You shouldn’t have left home.

“Look at the little debutante, all dressed up and pretty,” one of the men says, yellow teeth bared in a sneer. “Where you going so fast?”

“H-Home,” I say, jumping as one of them pinches at my elbow. The others snicker and it seems to encourage him, because he reaches out and pinches me twice more. With each one, I’m sent back a few more steps until I’m bumping back into the man behind me. I quickly step away from him, cheeks reddening. “Pl-Please stop.”

“Aww, come one, baby.”

“We’re just having a little fun, sweetheart.”

One of the men yanks on the crate, and I lurch forward as I attempt to hold onto it. With one final tug, he manages to pull it from me and I stumble forward. The wood scrapes my hands and a yelp falls from my lips. It stings worse than the time I got stung by a bee last summer. I can feel something wet sliding down my fingers and I know without looking that my hands are bleeding.

James is going to know you left. You won’t be able to hide your hands from him.

I gasp as one of the men yanks at the skirt of my dress. The others seem to find this new game funny and their hands twist in the pretty soft yellow silk of my skirt. A ripping sound fills the air and my heart breaks.

There goes your favorite dress.

I let out a cry as one of the men pulls me to him, hands grabbing my ass. My hands push at him desperately, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. I hadn’t even realized I had been crying until this moment. “Let me go! Let me go!”

“Whatever you want, princess,” he sneers before tossing me to the concrete.

I feel like nothing more than a rag doll as my head bounces off the ground. My ears ring, my movements lethargic as I try to focus on what’s happening. There’s a peach lying a few inches away from me, the fruits spilling everywhere after the crate was tossed to the ground.

A scream rips from my throat and I kick out as a rough hand wraps around my ankle, my skirt falling to expose my legs to the men. The man’s grip is so tight that I’m afraid the bone is going to snap like a twig.

“Nice stockings, baby. Wanna—”

“LET HER GO!”

The oh so familiar voice catches my attention, but I can barely see through my tears. The hand on my ankle disappears and I hear the men running away. My body shakes as a warm hand wipes at my tears and I can finally see who’s kneeling beside me.

James.

My heart hammers as I shoot up into a sitting position. Dizziness overcomes me as I try to scoot backwards, but my husband stops me, hands gripping my shoulders.

“Are you okay?” He asks, checking me over. There’s a sort of desperation lacing his voice. The man winces as he sees the bloody mess my hands have become, the scrapes along my arms from falling to the ground. I can already feel bruises forming along my shoulder blades.

My head alone feels like it’s going to explode.

“Sweet girl, look at me,” he says, hands cradling my face. “Come on, look at me.” My eyes slowly focus, his features becoming clear. “There we go. That’s a good girl.”

Another sob wracks my body as I look at him. He’s being so kind. So, so kind despite the fact that I disobeyed him. I betrayed him and his trust. “I-I’m sorry, James,” I say, voice cracking.

“Oh, darling,” he says, hands brushing back my hair. His startling blue eyes are rimmed with tears as he pulls me into his arms. He doesn’t care that we’re currently in broad daylight and people are staring.

It’s not as though they cared enough to stop those men.

He brings me back as he rocks me carefully back and forth, pressing soft kisses to my hair. “It’s alright. I’m here.”

“Y-You’re not angry?”

Of course, he is, you idiot.

“We’ll talk about it later,” James says with a deep sigh. It’s a sigh that resounds through his bones and makes me feel even more guilty. All he ever wanted was to protect me, keep me safe, and I just had to go out looking for trouble. His strong arms move me so that he’s carrying me, cradling me against his chest.

I close my eyes and wish for the rest of the world to go away. I just want it all to disappear so all that’s left is James and me. I want us to lock ourselves away in our little castle and never go outside ever again. He shouldn’t have to be around such cruel people.

James takes a moment to talk to someone, but I can’t hear exactly what it is, nor do I care to. As long as he keeps holding onto me the way he is, he can do whatever he wants, as far as I’m concerned.

My body shivers despite how hot it is. From where my hand is resting on his chest, I can feel the stickiness of his skin, though it might be the blood from my hands that’s staining the crisp white shirt. “You’re sweating,” I rasp, eyes opening to peer up at him. “I… I will run you a bath when we get home.”

“I think you need the bath more than me, sweet girl,” he chuckles, his chest vibrating against my cheek. He shifts me around so one hand is free, and I feel him open up the door of his car before setting me inside on the passenger seat. “There we go.”

The leather of the car seats burns my skin as he gets in the driver side and turns the car on, but I don’t dare say anything. Not when he’s being so kind, so gracious to me.

Others would’ve cast you out by now.

“But he would never,” I murmur, brows furrowing as I stare out the window. I know that James is listening by the way his fingers grip the steering wheel that much tighter, but he doesn’t say anything as he pulls out of his parking spot and heads for the hill.

But you’re useless. All you do is sit around all day.

“But I… I do things.”

Not much.

The rest of the drive up to the estate is completely silent. My body feels so numb. I can’t even feel the pain in my hands anymore.

We break through the trees and my breath catches in my throat. Even though I live in the house and I see it every day, it’s breathtaking. The white stone is crawling with vines, the windows sparkling in the sun. The lawn is as green as ever, though there’s a little patch where I always sit that’s been permanently trampled down.

James carries me inside and up the stairs, though I hardly register anything that’s happening. I know that I’m falling into my head. I can feel the fuzziness taking over. My mind feels disconnected from my body, as though I’m a million miles away.

Maybe Spain.

Spain would be rather lovely. Every book I’ve read that’s set in the country says so. The Gaudi architecture and the lively colors that make up the gingerbread fairytale. The way the everything blacks out in the afternoon for a mid-day siesta. The language that sounds like a symphony when it falls from the lips.

Yes, Spain is rather lovely, I decide.

I’m carefully set down, gingerly finding my balance as I stand. My eyes are hazy, unfocused as I stare at the ground. Someone moves around me to stand at my back, and I feel my shoulders tense.

It’s when I feel fingers tugging at the zipper on my dress that I snap. A scream rips through the air, and the only reason I know it’s me is because of the sting in my throat. I jerk forward, desperate to get away from the hands that are grabbing at me. Trying to defile me.

You need to get out. Get away.

Hot tears sting my eyes as I bolt for the door. My heels clack against the hardwood floor as I tear down the hall, desperately trying to reach the staircase that I can see up ahead. Maybe if I got there, I’d have a chance of escape.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

I can hear someone coming after me, their footsteps pounding as they begin to catch up. With how heavy their strides are, I can tell that it’s a man.

Another soldier. Another man determined to take what isn’t his.

I push forward, urging myself to go even faster. I’m almost to the stairs when my heel catches on a rug, sending me crashing to the ground. I try to scramble to my feet, but the pain in my ankle is making it rather difficult.

And then I feel him.

Hands grab at my ankles and I let out another bloodcurdling scream, kicking away at my assaulter.

“Y/N!”

The stranger’s weight bears down on me as he crawls up my body. He so easily holds me in place and even though I’m sobbing, I continue to fight with all of my might. “Stop! Stop!” I beg, though I know it will fall on deaf ears.

Invaders never listen.

“Y/N! STOP!” Thick thighs straddle my waist, holding me in place as calloused hands grab at my face. My fists are desperately pounding against a rock-hard chest. “LOOK AT ME!”

My chest is heaving against the constraints of my dress as I look up at the man above me. His face is red, his sea blue eyes filled with so much pain.

“Y/N, it’s me. It’s me,” he says, his hold on me keeping me locked in place. “It’s me, James.”

James.

Everything clicks into place, my mind suddenly coming back to me. “James?” I croak, and his face floods with relief.

“I’m here. I’m right here,” he says. He leans over me, his forehead pressing to mine. I can feel his thighs relax as he realizes that I’m back in my right mind. Our breaths mingle together as both of us try to get our bearings. “Nobody’s going to hurt you while I’m here.”

“I… My mind…” I swallowed, my eyes sore from all the crying I’ve been doing. “I did it again, didn’t I? I thought you were—”

A German soldier.

One of the men from town.

“I know,” James says, gently pulling me up so that I’m resting against his chest. His hand carefully runs over my back, soothing the restless pounding in my heart as I come down from my episode. Red blood is stained on his shirt, like his heart is blooming outside of his chest. “Come on,” he murmurs, gently picking me up. “Let’s get you in that bath.”

This time, I allow him to undress me without a peep, the ruined dress falling to the floor like a waterfall. His fingers are shaking as he carefully unhooks my stockings from my garter, the little black line along the back of my thighs disappearing as he rolls them down my legs.

“James, I think my stockings are ruined,” I say softly, eyeing the runs and rips that litter the nylon now.

The former soldier kisses my thigh and a shiver runs up my spine. “I will buy you all the stockings you could ever want, sweet girl.” He nudges me towards the tub. “Let’s get you in, and I’ll take care of your hands. Do you want rose, lavender, or pomegranate oil?” An impish grin spreads across his face. “Or what about olive oil? I can go down to the pantry and—”

“No,” I giggle, feeling some of the tension dissipate at his teasing. “Rose oil, please.” He steadies me as I step into the porcelain tub, sinking into the hot water. It’s perfect, as always.

Because he always knows what’s best for you.

James grabs one of the little glass bottles from the vanity, pouring a generous amount into the water. The sweet fragrance fills my nose as the water soothes my aches and pains from being tossed around like a rag doll. “Hands.”

I let my hands hang over the edge of the tub, water dripping from my mangled palms onto the tiled floor below. A white cloth is gently wiped across my hands, staining red as it cleans out the wounds.

He’s going to yell at you whenever he’s done.

“No, he won’t,” I say, huffing a little as I stare down at my hands, watching as he carefully wraps them. “He wouldn’t.”

“Sweet girl?”

I look up, e/c eyes meeting blue.

James’s face holds such my kindness that it hurts. “May I be a part of the conversation?”

“It said that you would yell at me,” I admit after a moment’s hesitation. “And I told it that you won’t.”

And he knows immediately what I mean by ‘it.’ What I call the voice that lives inside my head. “I won’t yell,” he confirms, brushing a strand of hair from my face. There’s a sheen of sweat covering my brow from the heat of the bath. “But I do have questions.” When my eyes drop, he tsks and tilts my chin up so I have to look him in the eyes. “Can you please answer them?” When I give my confirmation, he asks, “Why did you go into town?”

“I… I wanted to make you a peach cobbler,” I say, cheeks rosy. “But we were out of peaches. And I-I thought that I’d be okay if I just went and got the peaches and then went home.” I sniffle, but no tears come. It would appear that I’ve cried myself out for the day. “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Is that why there were peaches all over the ground?”

I draw my lower lip in between my teeth. “I-I stole some of your coins to buy them. I-I’m sorry.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” James laughs weakly, caressing my cheek. “My sweet, darling Y/N. I don’t care about measly coins. I just want you safe.” His thumb tugs my lip out from between my teeth. “And it wasn’t stealing. What’s mine is yours. You’re my wife, after all.”

The steam from the bath is filling the room, and James’s hair is starting to stick to his face. He had gotten rid of his suit jacket at one point, but I can’t remember when.

“I never want to leave here again,” I say, my nimble fingers reaching forward to carefully undo the two top buttons of his white button down. The little bit of chest hair that peeks out tempts me to keep going, but I know that now is not the time. “You told me I was safe as long as I stayed here, and I disobeyed you.”

“Sweet girl, I am not your jailer,” he says, taking my hand and turning it over so that the diamond on my left ring finger glints in the light. “I want to keep you safe, but I am not going to lock you inside our home.”

After my bath, he towels me off and dresses me in one of my silk nightgowns. Sleep welcomes me heartily, the plush pillows on our bed carrying me away to a dream land.

When I come to hours later, it’s to a delicious smell rising up the stairs. Languidly stretching, I wince as I feel the soreness in my muscles. The sun is setting, the late rays dusting the room in gold.

Even though I would be content to stay in bed for the rest of the day, I slide out of bed and creep out of the room. Some old jazz tune is playing from the kitchen, the notes reaching me as I come down the stairs.

The sight that greets me makes my heart flutter.

James is standing at the stove, humming softly with the radio as he makes dinner. He’s freshly bathed, in a clean, short sleeve button down that’s tucked into his slacks, his hair back in its perfect coif.

“James?”

His head whips around and a smile spreads over his cheeks. “How’d you sleep?”

“I… Uh, fine,” I say, brows furrowing as I step up to the stove. “What are you doing?”

He looks at me in confusion, glancing between the pots in front of me and then back to me. “I’m making dinner.”

Now he doesn’t think you’re a good cook. You truly are useless.

I immediately begin to nudge him out of the way, hands pressing against his chest to urge him backwards. “I can make it. You go rest.”

“What?” He shakes his head, hands moving to my hips. His fingers gently hold onto me, twisting the silk that barely covers my body. “Y/N, no. I’m going to make you dinner tonight, okay? You’ve had a rough day.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts,’” he says, pointing a finger at me. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he nods towards the door on the other side of the kitchen. “Go look in the pantry.”

Still a little put off and confused, I take tentative steps towards the other room. When I glance back at James, he motions for me to keep going. When I open the door, a gasp falls from my lips, my hand reaching up to cover my mouth.

An entire shelf is lined with crates of peaches.

James threw his car in park, slamming the door behind him as he got out. He was absolutely seething as he made his way up to the front door of the red brick building. It had taken him hours to get there, and there was no way he was leaving without getting what he wanted.

Or who he wanted.

He’d passed a sign that said ‘Philadelphia State Hospital’ on the way in, and the energy had shifted the moment he did. The air felt colder. Like something awful was looming on the horizon.

The building felt more like a prison than anything else as he stormed through the doors. When he found the front desk, he slammed his hands harshly down on the counter, startling the lone nurse there.

“May I help you?”

“Where’s Y/N L/N?” He demanded, leaning over the desk to glare at her. He knew that she was less likely to help him with how coarse he was being, but quite frankly, he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. “I’m here to pick her up.”

The nurse tutted, her perfectly trimmed nails tapping against the counter. “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s not visiting hours.” But she dug through the files in the cabinet beside her desk anyway, tugging out a file with the girl’s name on it. “And it says here that the only people allowed to pick her up are her parents. And you—” She raised her eyebrows as she appraised him. “—are clearly not one of her parents.”

But James didn’t care. Because right beside her name was a room number.

He bolted towards the hall the sign on the wall directed him to, cursing his restrictive clothing. Suit be damned, he needed to find his girl. It took him months to find her and he wasn’t going to let something so trivial keep him away from her any longer.

He can hear the nurse calling after him, heels clicking as she scrambled from out behind her desk. Two other nurses and a doctor joined her, and it struck him how few workers there are compared to how many patients he’d seen just along that hall. There are patients that are littering the hospital, making it that much harder for those chasing him. Some of them turn to look at him, but most stared lifelessly ahead as he ducked and weaved.

It’s more than a little disconcerting.

He finally found the right room and threw open the door without a second thought. The room he entered was devoid of any color, other than the dirt and grime that coated the formerly stark white walls. Five cots were along the far wall, so close together that he was shocked there was room to move. It’s cramped, unbearably so.

“James? Is that you?”

Heart pounding, he let out a sigh of relief as he saw me sitting in a chair by the window to his left. But at the same time, he felt something inside him break. I looked horrible. Like I did back in that cell back in the war. My eyes were sunken in, my skin sallow. The shapeless hospital gown did nothing to hide my state.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, voice cracking. There was a hazy look in my eyes, and it was clear to him that the doctors had me drugged out of my mind. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. You know I am.”

“I’m getting you out of here, sweet girl,” he said. Without a second thought, he picked me up, not knowing if I was capable of walking on my own or not. With how sickly I appeared, he wasn’t willing to take the chance. “I’m taking you home.”

Voices behind us were demanding that he stopped, and it sent a shiver through me. Those voices belonged to the nurses and doctors that ripped me apart.

They were just as evil as the men across the ocean.

James pushed the door leading to the courtyard open with so much force that it splintered. Alarms were going off all around us. Within what felt like seconds, I was resting in the passenger seat of his car and the tires were squealing as he peeled out of the hospital drive.

“Get some rest, Y/N,” James said after we were a safe distance away. I could tell when he felt we were going to make it by the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his hand reached over and grabbed mine. “We have a long way to go.”

When he finally got back to his estate, the first thing he did was put me in bed. He was sure that I hadn’t gotten a proper night of rest in forever, by the way that I didn’t stir.

The second thing he did was call Steve.

The blond got to his house in record time, and James met him at the front steps. He brought him inside before breaking the news—that he had actually gone through with taking you from the insane asylum.

“What the hell were you thinking?” His best friend asked as he paced the kitchen. His hair was mussed from running his fingers through it in agitation, his shirt untucked from his slacks. “You fucking kidnapped her!”

“I saved her,” James said, hands fisted at his side.

“You’re a government official, Buck! We work at the Pentagon! You can’t just do illegal shit like that!”

“You didn’t see it in there!”

Steve went silent as he saw just how badly the brunet was shaking.

“I couldn’t leave her there, Steve,” he said, his entire body trembling from pure fury. “It was disgusting. There was barely any room to walk, there were so many patients. And she looks just like she did when you rescued us. She’s—” He ran a hand over his face, tears pricking his eyes. “She was starving. Covered in bruises.”

The other man took in a deep breath as his own mind went back to when he first met you.

His hands pressed flat against the table. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm himself down. It wouldn’t do to wake you up when you were finally getting some well-earned rest. “I searched for her for months, and—"

“I know—”

“No, you don’t,” James said, cutting him off with a steely gaze. “You have Peggy. You had her during the war. I had to wait for over two years to find her again, and then I had to search for her for months after we got back. Only to find out that her family stuck her in a fuckin’ insane asylum. She—” He shook his head, wiping at his face. “She didn’t belong there, Steve.”

The other man sighed, looking all of his age in that moment. Becoming Captain America had aged him, left him a little worn. “But if you get caught—”

“I won’t,” he insisted, his mind drifting up the stairs to the master bedroom. “I’m not letting anyone take her from me again. I’m going to keep her safe if it kills me.”

“Sweet girl, where are you?” I hear James call from inside.

I feel a giddiness in my heart as I shout back, “I’m in the garden!” My bare feet sink into the soil as I trim the roses ever-so-carefully. There’s a stack of bright yellow sunflowers and pure white baby’s breath in the basket resting on the ground for the bouquet I’m putting together.

He appears on the back porch, his suit jacket already discarded and the top buttons of his shirt undone. “How are they looking?” He asks as he makes his way over to me.

“Just perfect,” I say with a warm grin, holding out a scarlet rose for him to inspect. I’ve already trimmed off the thorns, lest one of us pricks ourselves. “I think it’ll go rather well with the sunflowers and baby’s breath. Don’t you think?”

“You’ve got a keen eye, you know,” James says, tapping the tip of my nose with his finger. He then pauses. “How are you today?”

I glanced over at the rose bush. “Today’s a good day.” And it was. My mind wasn’t as hazy, though it’s still not as great as it once was. “How was work today?” I ask as I place the roses I’d already trimmed in the basket with the other flowers. Wiping my hand across my brow, I pick up the basket before heading for the house. The first thing I see inside is the stack of new library books he picked up for me, his suit jacket thrown haplessly over a chair.

My husband follows after me, as I expected he would, his hands in his pockets. “It was alright, I suppose. Work was work.” When I set the basket on the kitchen table, he pulls on my hand to twirl me around, bringing me into him with a soft gasp. My hands rest on his broad chest as one of his hands tangles in my hair, letting it down from the twist I’d clipped it into. “I didn’t get my ‘hello’ kiss,” he says as his other hand curves around to the small of my back, bringing me impossibly close.

His nose nudges against mine and I can feel his lips brush against mine. So close yet so far away. “I apologize for my oversight. Could you ever forgive me?” I breathe, playing into his little game. Even after all the years we’ve spent together, he still manages to make my heart race. I feel like a school girl about to receive her first kiss.

“I suppose I can,” he teases. “If you pay a price.”

“And what price would that be?”

“Five kisses.”

I bit my lip to try and stop myself from smiling, but it’s useless. Standing up on my tiptoes, I press a kiss to his forehead. “One.” To his left cheek. “Two.” To his right cheek. “Three.” To his nose. “Four.” And finally, my lips slot against his like puzzle pieces. Kissing him feels like coming home, like warm hot cocoa on a snowy day. “Five,” I say as I pull away. “Am I forgiven?”

He grins mischievously, squeezing me closer to him. “If I say no, will you keep kissing me?”

Laughing, I push him away so I can put the flowers into the empty vase resting on the table. “What am I going to do with you?”

James watches with soft eyes as I carefully arrange the flowers, content to just be in my presence.

I never thought I would find someone like him. Someone who loves me enough to go against the law, to rescue me from a dreadful existence. Someone who has patience for me, who understands that I’m trying my best and that sometimes my best isn’t that great.

Even from all of before this, I couldn’t have dreamt up someone as amazing as him in my wildest dreams.

He always says that he’s the lucky one, but I disagree. I was lucky when he ended up next to me back during the war. I had been alone for so long. I can remember crying the first time he spoke to me.

“I have a surprise for you,” he says finally, moving towards where I’ve started to pull out the plates for dinner. James gently takes the china out of my hands, placing them to the side so my full attention is on him.

“What is it?” My eyes brighten at the prospect of a surprise. “Is it more peaches?” I ask, thinking of the crates he had gotten me a few weeks ago.

“No, but I’ll make sure to pick some up when I go to the grocer tomorrow,” he says, grabbing my hips gently. His thumbs rub soft circles into my skin, having slipped under my loose blouse. “Tell me, sweet girl, how would you feel about two of my close friends coming over for dinner later this week?”

He wants you to meet his friends?

“Your… Your friends?” I stammer, trying to wrap my head around the concept of other people in this house. Of spending time with people other than James. It’d been weeks since the incident in town, and I’ve recovered rather well, but I don’t know. I’m still apprehensive.

You’re going to mess everything up.

“It would just be Steve and Peggy,” the brunet reassures me, his blue eyes locked with mine.

Being so close to him is like drinking a glass of whiskey. My entire body feels warm and I feel so relaxed. Like nothing could ever hurt me ever again. And I know that it’s his wish to make sure nothing does. In the days after the incident in town, he doted on me even more so than usual. He took a few days off work, choosing to stay home and keep me company. He’d changed the bandages on my hands every few hours, massaged the tension out of my muscles. There was nothing I went without.

“Still with me, sweet girl?”

I blink, realizing that I’d zoned out while he was talking to me. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“You remember Steve and Peggy, right? From back during the war?” James asks, his voice lowering to a soothing whisper.

I nod hesitantly, trying my best to keep the memories out of my head. “You tell me lots of stories about them.”

“Well, they would like to have dinner with us,” he says, talking slowly as he gauges my reaction. “It would just be us four here at home. They’d be here for only an hour or two.”

“What if…” I swallow, my eyes falling down to the hardwood floor. “What if I have an episode?”

James leans his forehead against mine, his hot breath hitting my skin. “Then they’ll leave and we’ll spend the rest of the night just like any other.” He pauses. “But they won’t think less of you if you do. I want you to know that. They know about what happened and it hasn’t stopped them from wanting to really meet you and get to know you.” The silence that stretches on afterwards is long and heavy. Finally, he clears his throat. “What do you say?”

James threw the door of Steve’s office open, storming in like and looking very much like a hellcat. He absolutely radiated anger.

“Hello to you, too, Bucky,” the blond said without glancing up from his papers. He looked every bit the general he was. “It’s so nice of you to drop in.”

“Shut up. I see you for over eight hours a day,” he said, tossing the file down onto his desk.

Steve raised his eyebrows as he finally looked up at the other man, the sky meeting the ocean. “What the hell is this?”

He just motioned towards the file. As Steve picked up the file, he grabbed a glass from the minibar that was kept well stocked, pouring himself a generous glass of scotch. He stared out the window like some kind of Jay Gatsby. The liquor burned his throat but he didn’t care.

“You found her.”

James nodded, throwing back the rest of his drink in one gulp. “After eight months of digging, I find her.” He scoffed as he tried to pretend that his throat wasn’t tightening up, that tears weren’t rimming his eyes. “And find out her god damn parents locked her away in an insane asylum.” He whirled around to face him, the hand with the glass pointing towards him. “She’s not insane. She’s not.”

Steve stood up, trying to quell his own fury. “I know she isn’t, Buck.”

“She’s just—” He ran a hand over his face.

“I know.”

“That god damned war broke her,” James snarled, shaking his head. “She’s fought that war just like any other soldier, and this is how they treat her? Like some kind… some kind of animal.” But through all the anger, there was an overwhelming sense of helplessness. A feeling that he was determined to squash. “I’m getting her out of there.”

Steve sighed, his gut telling him that his best friend was about to do something incredibly stupid. “We’ll find a way to get her out of there, Bucky.”

“No.”

He froze, shaking his head as he tried to comprehend what he just said. “I’m sorry—what do you mean ‘no?’”

“That’ll take too much time,” James said, slamming the empty glass back onto the cart. He wiped his mouth as he began to head for the still-open door. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I’ll be back before tomorrow.”

“Buck—come on—you can’t just bust her out of there,” Steve laughed, sure that his best friend was pulling his leg. But when he didn’t laugh, he cleared his throat. “You can’t be serious. That’s… That’s kidnapping. You’re a fucking lieutenant general, for crying out loud.”

And any other day, James would agree. After the mess that was World War II, Steve was appointed general, even though he still went by Captain America. James and the other members of the Howling Commandos were appointed to various ranks for their service. And he was proud of that. He took his job seriously.

But this was his girl.

He rolled his shoulders back, fixing his best friend with a steely gaze. “I’ll be back to work in two days.”

I don’t look up as I hear the door open, scrambling back and forth from setting the table in the dining room and the stove. I have several pots simmering as well as a crown roast with apricot dressing in the oven. My face is covered with perspiration, but I don’t have time to think about that.

“The house smells wonder—” James broke off as he saw me running around like a chicken without my head. “Woah, woah, woah—where’s the fire?”

“I have to finish dinner,” I say, shaking him off when he tries to pull me into his arms. He doesn’t relent, though, and he wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. And despite the anxiety that’s running through my body, I allow myself to sink back into his embrace. “James…”

His lips press lingering open-mouthed kisses to my shoulders, trailing up my neck. “Why are you so worried, sweet girl?”

“I—”

“And don’t say you’re worried about burning dinner.”

“I...” I drew my bottom lip in between my teeth, my hands clutching at the arm wrapped around my waist like a lifeline. “What if they don’t like me?”

James hums as he sways me. “That’s nonsense. Of course, they will.”

You’re a fucked up mess and they’re going to remind James of that.

I feel as though I’ll fall if not for his arm holding me up. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

You should be back in that asylum.

He stiffens, his hold around me tightening. “Y/N, I know you’re nervous, but—”

They’ll convince James to send you back.

“They’re gonna think I’m weird,” I interrupt. My eyes are trained on the white cabinets. A hot tear trickles down my cheek and I sniffle. “I… I know that I’m different from other people. Before my parents sent me to the asylum, I heard people whispering about me everywhere I went. Saying that it was a shame that such a… a lovely girl like me was touched in the head. Said I would’ve made a pretty bride.” I frown down at where his hand is splayed against my stomach, eyeing the golden band that’s on his left ring finger. It matches the diamond on mine. “People don’t think I’m smart or that I know what’s happening. But I…” I break off, choking back a sob.

He deserves better than you.

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmurs as his other arm wraps around me like a vice. “But you are so smart. It might take you a while to get to the answer, and sometimes you forget things, but you are so, so smart. You hear me? You are the smartest, brightest person I know.” James kissed my cheek. “I’ll take care of all this. You go take a nice long bath and get ready for dinner, okay?”

Two hours later, and I find myself pacing the parlor. My heels are clicking against the hardwood floor, my fingers wringing in the silk skirt of my dress.

“My sweet girl, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” James muses as he appears in the doorway. His tie is hanging loose around his neck and I immediately move to him, fingers reaching for the silk. His mesmerizing blue eyes are roaming over my face as though trying to memorize every bit of me. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“What are you trying to butter me up for?” I tease as I deftly fix his tie, like I do every morning without fail.

He smirks, hands finding my hips. The look in his eyes always makes my knees weak. “I’m not buttering you up for anything. Can’t a man tell the love of his life he finds her to be absolutely stunning?”

“I think you’re trying to get lucky later,” I say, tugging on his tie to pull him down into a languid kiss.

“Oh, baby. I’m not trying to get lucky,” he purrs. Our lips slot together like puzzle pieces and an innocent kiss quickly turns into something more. His hands wander, pulling me as close as humanly possible. It’s hard to tell where he ends and I begin. “Sweet girl,” he moans against my lips. “I—” He’s cut off by a knock on the door. Groaning, he nudges his nose against mine. “We should send them away… Tell them to come back another time.”

“No,” I say, giggling as he pouts his lower lip. “Come on. Later.”

I stand behind James as he opens the door, revealing a tall blond man that I recognize as Steve and a pretty brunette that I can only assume is Peggy. The super soldier looks a little older than I remember him.

The two greet James with excited hugs, even though the two men had just seen each other a few hours before. My fingers fiddle together as I stand there nervously. It’s when their eyes find me half-hidden behind my husband that my breath hitches, my heart caught in my throat.

“Hello, Y/N,” Steve says, speaking softly as he flashes me a warm smile.

I glance up at James, who nudges me forward gently.

“Go on,” he whispers, lips brushing my ear. “I’m right here with you.”

Licking my lips, I look back up at the blond. “H-Hi, Steve. It’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you looking so healthy,” he says. He then puts his hand on the woman’s back. “This is my wife, Peggy.”

She steps forward, holding out her hand for you to shake. “Hello. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. James and Steve had told me so much about you.” Her accent lilts her quiet words.

“James told me that… that you were from England,” I said, taking a moment to find my words. “What part are you from?”

She seems to light up at my willingness to talk. “I’m from Hampstead.” As James leads the three of you to the dining room, she continues, “I went to school in London, though. And you? Where did you go?”

The conversation carries easily through the first thirty minutes of dinner. We’re all laughing and joking around. It surprises me how easily I’m able to talk to them, but then again, maybe James was right when he said they would like me.

They just feel bad for you.

“No, they don’t,” I say under my breath, glaring down at my plate. What I don’t see is the other three all turn to look at me, their conversation quieting.

They’re only putting up with you because James asked them to.

“No.”

They don’t actually like you.

I bite my lip as I grip my fork so tightly my knuckles go white. “But—”

“Sweet girl?”

I looked up, the spell broken, to see three pairs of eyes focused on me. I shrink a little under their gazes, under their concern. “I’m sorry,” I whimper, my cheeks flaming.

James shakes his head as he takes my hand, massaging my soft skin. He’s turned in his chair so he can face me completely. “Don’t apologize. What’s wrong?”

I pause, eyes going to Steve and Peggy, but he gently turns my head back towards him. “It… It was saying that they don’t like me. That they’re only putting up with me for you.” I shrug as I look down at our joined hands, focusing on his touch. I’m trying to downplay how I’m feeling, I know. But I don’t want to ruin tonight. “That they’ll get you to send me back.”

“Do you want Steve and Peggy to go home?” He asks. After I shake my head, he smiles and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “You tell me at anytime if you want them to leave, okay?”

Almost an hour later, James shuts the door with a soft click after we say our goodbyes to our two guests. He turns to look at me as that smile spreads over his face. The precious smile that only I get. “I’m so proud of you,” he say as he sweeps me off my feet, twirling me around the room., leaving me in a fit of giggles.

“Where are we going?” I ask breathlessly as he starts to carry me up the stairs.

“I’m finishing what was so rudely interrupted, my sweet, sweet girl.”

I hummed softly as I leaned my head back against one of the bars of my cage. The cold of the concrete floor seeps into my skin, but I can’t really bring myself to care. Not when there’s so many other things to worry about.

Like the fact that I hadn’t eaten in over four days. Hunger pains twisted my stomach every time I moved. I’m afforded just enough water to survive. I felt as though I was withering away, ready to die at any second.

And honestly, I wish I would.

But the worst part was the boredom. The endless, never-ending boredom. I’d been the only prisoner for what I thought to be about a month, but there was no way to be sure. The days blended together after the only other person who was in there was taken to the operation room and never returned. Hell, it’d been

I could only sit and count the cracks in the wall so many times. My mind was starting to slip away from me. I could feel myself breaking a little more every day. I could find myself starting to talk to myself. To a voice that resided inside my head.

“Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you.’ Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me,” I sing under my breath.

“Y’ got a nice voice.”

I let out a scream as I scramble backwards, heart pounding. By the door of the cell, the lump that I thought was a bunch of blankets began to move. A soft groan echoed through the room. “Wh-Who are you?!”

“Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th,” he said as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. It took a little longer than he probably wanted. “What’s yours, doll?”

I froze a little, seeing his face for the first time. Despite all the blood and muck that covered it, he was stunning. His startling blue eyes drank me in like he hadn’t had water for days. His brown hair was sticking to his skin from the amount of grease coating it.

Even so, he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

“I’m Y/N L/N,” I say, my voice hoarse from spending so long without speaking.

“What’s a—” He grunted, pressing a hand against his abdomen. “What’s a pretty dame like you doing in a place like this?”

It surprised me, that he was able to flirt with me at a time like this. “Got kidnapped by German soldiers. What else?”

“You’re funny,” The brunet chuckled, though it was weak. He leaned back against the wall. “Half my regiment and I were taken. Don’t know where they are though.” He looked around the concrete room, at the bars that lined the wall, the tally marks that I’d given up scratching into the wall. A long forgotten attempt to keep tracks of the days. “What is this place?”

“People who are in here are… experimented on,” I said, going quiet as my eyes shifted to the door that the operation room lied behind. I had been dragged to that room kicking and screaming more times than I could count. “It’s always the same. They strap us down and stick us with needles. Put some kind of serum in us.”

“That’s…” James swallowed as he followed my gaze. “Horrific, for lack of better terms.”

“It is what it is,” I said before lying down on the ground, my back facing him. Having another person in my cell was more than a little overwhelming. Not to mention that I didn’t want to risk getting attached to him, only for him to be dragged away only to never come back. It was clear enough that I wasn’t in the mood to talk, and he went silent.

Yet no matter how much I tossed and turned, sleep never came.

Three weeks later, and all thoughts of keeping my distance from me had disappeared. Hell, I’d come to know him better than I knew myself. It had happened somewhere, in between the two of us individually being dragged into the operation room, only to come back a quivering, incoherent mess.

We leaned against each other, back to back, and I relished in the feeling of another human’s touch. “How’d you get here? Why were you taken?” He asked.

“I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”

“Come on, sweet girl,” he said, his fingers intertwining with mine.

I felt a rush of heat at his nickname. He’d taken to calling me such within a week. “I was a nurse for the 115th regiment,” I said, my voice shaky. My nurse’s uniform had been trashed ages ago and I’d been left in whatever scratchy clothing my captors gave me. “There was a snowstorm, and we were out of matches. Our men were falling sick and there wasn’t anything we could do to help them get better because we had no way to keep them warm. We barely had enough blankets as it is.” His thumb rubbed soft circles in the back of my hand. “So I said that I’d go across the line to the German troops. We had no reason to think that they’d hurt me. I’m a woman. A nurse.”

“You aren’t supposed to hurt women or children in wartime,” James grunted, tensing at the thought of someone hurting me. “It’s not honorable.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Honor didn’t exist in war. Not truly. Only blood and fear. “When I got there, they took me. Knocked me out.” The concrete walls of my prison felt like they were closing in. “I woke up here months ago. Almost a year, I think.”

“I’m sorry,” he said after a pregnant pause. “If I could get you out of here…”

“I know,” I said, interrupting him. Something had changed within the last few days. There was a new energy between us. Lingering glances, whispered words. We’d taken to sleeping as close as possible without actually touching. “But you being here is enough.” It was useless to try to put into words how alone I had been, how much I had needed human interaction.

That night, when James woke me with his nightmares, I was there. I immediately jolted awake at his screams. They bounced around the concrete room, fading into soft whimpers when I gently shook him awake.

“James, it’s me,” I said, my fingers carding through his hair. My heart lurched with every sob that fell from his lips. I hated that there was nothing I could do except hold him.

“I’m sorry,” he cried into my chest. His arms wove around my waist, squeezing me tightly. His tears were soaking my shirt but I paid it no mind. All that mattered was him. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” I murmured, kissing his greasy hair.

James sniffled, his fingers bunching up the fabric covering me. “Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you sing that song again?”

“Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you.’ Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me,” I sang quietly, closing my eyes. I could feel him start to slip away once again, his spiked heart rate slowing. His tears weren’t coming as quickly as before. “Say nightie night and kiss me. Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me. While I’m alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me.”

Even after he fell asleep, I rocked him back and forth, reminding him over and over, that no matter the evil that was being forced upon us, we were still good. The darkness inside me tangled with his and I was certain of only one thing in this world. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

#whiskey-cokenfanfic birthday challenge #wcnfbirthdaychallenge #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic

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fireinmoonshot · 5 years ago

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CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE RISE OF SKYWALKER.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN | PART EIGHT | PART NINE | PART TEN | PART ELEVEN | PART TWELVE | PART THIRTEEN Summary: Armitage Hux finds himself strangely fascinated by you, a Resistance fighter and pilot, even though he knows he shouldn’t. You know that there’s much more to him than you see on the surface. Pairing: female!Reader x Armitage Hux Fandom: Star Wars Word Count: 3151 Warnings: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER SPOILERS A/N: Gah, well... I’m a bit nervous about this part because I feel like there’s absolutely so much riding on it and I don’t want to disappoint anyone. This no doubt has to be the most anticipated part of the entire story at this point, and it feels weird that it’s all coming to an end so soon. Part Fifteen will be the final part, which means this is the penultimate part and also the part I have had the most fun writing (mostly – I nearly cried at one point, so that’s fun, right?) I’m hoping that this will live up to any and all expectations you have for what this part will be and that you truly and thoroughly enjoy it. Read it on Ao3 here.

You don’t quite know why you’re holding Armitage’s hand, but he doesn’t seem to be too disappointed with the fact as you walk in silence away from your quarters and away from the main base of the Resistance to talk in complete and utter privacy. You’d grabbed his hand when you’d left the room – as a sort of way to keep him with you, you suppose. He’d said, in his letter, that he would leave if he felt he needed to.

And you really, really don’t want him to leave.

His letter is still held firmly in your other hand, and the words still swim around in your mind as the trees get thicker around you as you get further away. There’s a warm glow from the sun covering the leaves around you as the sun begins to set, and the fact that you’re both missing out on dinner doesn’t even cross your mind.

It had been the last thing you’d expected to find when heading back to your quarters to grab something before joining Rey, Poe and Rose for dinner. But you’d spotted the paper on your bed and had been too intrigued to ignore it. As soon as you’d started reading, you couldn’t stop yourself.

He’d been distant. You knew that he’d become distant. You’d just assumed it was his way of coming to terms with what happened on Arkanis. That, as you were slowly moving past it, he was too.

The letter said otherwise.

–

I am starting to write this letter at a terrible hour of the morning, but considering I can’t sleep due to what this letter will likely contain, I’m trying not to worry so much about the hour of the morning that it is and, instead, worry most of all about the feelings that I have grown to have for you, and what they truly may mean.

I cannot expect you to ever reciprocate my feelings, as I am much more than just a First order spy defected to the Resistance. I am the killer of civilisations, the destroyer of planets. I am the opposite of the man that your feelings should be reserved for, and I believe one day I will come to terms with that. But for now, I am content in living a life here on Ajan Kloss, swimming in your beautiful smiles, your effervescent kindness and contagious laughter. For as long as that may continue, I am content.

–

The sun has set a little further by the time you find a small clearing and stop walking. You let go of Armitage’s hand, trusting now that he won’t go at least until you’ve had this conversation, and look up at him.

He’s nervous. You can see the nerves on his face, in his eyes, and in the way he fidgets with his fingers and shifts from foot to foot. He has no reason to be, but you can’t blame him because he doesn’t know to feel otherwise.

The letter – you’d felt, as you were reading it, as though it wasn’t a letter you should be reading. But he had left it on your bed and that had to mean he wanted you to know what it contained. It had your name at the top of the page, and then his words in a careful script below it. His words, so many of his words. Words you couldn’t quite wrap your mind around, and ones you had a feeling he couldn’t either.

You hold up the letter.

Armitage sighs. “I didn’t mean for you to read that.” He began, refusing to meet your eyes as he spoke and, instead, focusing on the trees behind you. “I mean– I wanted you to, for a moment. But I was coming back to get it and take it with me when you found it. I was too late. And I do apologise for you having to read those words.”

You frown. “You were coming to take it with you?”

“I only left it in your quarters to begin with because I was doing as the letter said I might one day do – leave. But I then thought about how you’d follow me after you read it, and so I changed my mind. I didn’t want you to follow me.”

“And do you still plan on leaving?”

“I have a feeling you won’t let me.”

“Your feeling would be right.”

–

And this life here on Ajan Kloss – how it is a life a man like me could ever come to deserve, I don’t know. What you were truly thinking when you offered me your hand on Steadfast, when you pleaded with me to come with you. When you told me that you didn’t want me to die. I’ve often tortured myself late at night thinking about what my life would have become if I hadn’t taken your hand. Would they have truly found out that I was the spy as you said they would? Would I even be alive right now?

I don’t know what I ever did in those months we met and exchanged information to gain such kindness, respect and trust from you. For you to save my life. From memory, those meetings were filled with you being charming and myself being an utter bore. I truly don’t know how you ever saw a side of me that made you trust me. I was a spy, yes – but you knew what I’d done. You knew the person I was underneath the title that ‘spy for the Resistance’ gave me. And for some reason, you still offered your hand.

And I took it.

–

“Why did you leave me the letter in the first place, then? Why were you even going to leave? Things have been going well – haven’t they? We had breakfast this morning. We talked about our quarters,” you shake your head. “You’re confusing me. And I know you’ve been trying to avoid me for the past week. Don’t think I don’t know that. That even after we agreed to be friends again, you’ve tried to spend as much time away from me as possible. Is this why?” You hold up the letter and begin to read a line from it. “‘I don’t know where I will go, but wherever I do go will ensure you a happier, safer life without me lurking in the background, trying to figure out what these feelings I have truly mean. I think I know what they mean now, at least a little.’”

Armitage slowly nods. He’s still fidgeting with his fingers – twisting a ring he has on around and around and around. You step towards him and take one of his hands in yours again. It’s the best you can do to try and squash his nerves.

“Is this what this is, Armitage? Is it–“

“Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.”

His eyes flutter closed, and he takes a long breath. “This is much harder for me than you think it is,” he starts. “I care for you. You know that I care for you. But I have never cared for anybody but myself before, never truly. I have never felt the way I explained in that letter for anyone in my life. I am terrified, and I am ashamed that I even left that letter on your bed for you to read in the first place. Because that letter… that letter is my heart and soul on paper. You– you know how I feel about you now. And it is up to you to do what you will with that information.”

–

I’ve taken your hand twice now, both for different reasons, but things I fear I’ve come to regret in one way or another. Because how did I ever trick myself into believing that we could truly ever be friends after that night on Arkanis?

I saw the way you looked at me when I changed out of my First Order uniform and into the Resistance uniform after I got here for the first time. You looked at me like you’d never looked at me before – and I think that might have been the moment when things started to go wrong.

Or, at least, the moment I knew things were changing.

Because I’d washed the gel out of my hair, and I had donned the brown and green of the Resistance, and it was the first time you looked at me as an equal. As anyone looked at me as an equal. You’d spent those months on the Steadfast seeing me as General Hux – and this was the first time I was just Armitage.

You stepped forward and you fixed my shirt when I’d buttoned it all the way up. That was the moment. Because nobody had ever been that close to me before and done something so… mundane. My father had been that close to me as a child and he had never done something so kind. I nearly flinched away when you did it. Because for a moment, I’d feared something else.

I don’t fear that anymore – not from you, anyway.

–

Your hand squeezes Armitage’s.

“I’m not ashamed to have read it. I’m glad that you left it there for me to read. You and me – we’re on the same page about so many things, so many things that you don’t even realise. We– we’ve been tip-toeing around each other for the past week, Armitage. We don’t need to do that anymore. Not now that I’ve read this, not now that you know I have. You can be honest with me. You’ve always been honest with me.”

For the first time, Armitage meets your eyes. You look different than he’d expected you to look. You don’t look angry with him, you don’t look upset. You don’t look heartbroken at the words he’d written. You don’t look like you’re going to break his heart. But then again – he doesn’t know what that even would look like.

All he has is hope.

“You read the words. Do you need to hear me say them?”

You shake your head. “What I want is clarification, Armitage. For you to tell me truly what you felt that night on Arkanis when we were interrupted. You talked about it in here… but I have a feeling there’s more you didn’t write. Would I be right?”

–

You have been the one person to trust me and tell others to trust me this entire time. I would not be here without you. I would be dead, or worse. And once upon a time, I would have believed that to be a better thing for me. That after all I’d done, after who I’d been raised to be, there was no better ending.

You are what convinced me otherwise.

You are the first person to have ever properly held my hand. The first person to have hugged me. To have hugged me twice. You are a culmination of many of my firsts – at least the humane firsts. The firsts that I should have experienced before, but ones that I never had until I met you. Perhaps ones I still wouldn’t have if I hadn’t met you.

The first time I ever got to visit my home planet and create memories of it was with you. And while those memories are not, perhaps, the memories I would have wanted to create on Arkanis… they are still the only memories I have of a version of home.

When I said to you that we might go to Arkanis together one day, when we were on Kef Bir and you were still recovering from your injury (the blaster shot that may as well have been my fault too – I should have helped you escape while I had the chance), I didn’t expect that we would actually end up there so soon. And when we did touch down, I was filled with hope of what may happen there. Of what we would achieve.

And then we were thrown out of that bar, and I felt more shame than I have ever felt in my life. I don’t like to compare these things, but the shame I felt when Starkiller Base was destroyed by you and your people… it doesn’t come close to the shame I felt that day on Arkanis. When people in that bar were looking at you just as badly as they looked at me. And I could never want that for you. I could never want you to be the subject of getting looks like I am used to getting.

But that night…

–

Armitage sighs deeply, and then nods. “You would be.”

–

That night… I didn’t know what I was thinking until I thought about it later. That’s when I realised I did know what I was doing. It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t a lapse of judgment. It was a moment borne of those feelings I mentioned before.

And that night, I thought you wanted me to. The reason I pushed you away the next day was because I realised you didn’t want me to. And ever since that day, things have gotten more and more difficult.

I truly believe that I am feeling something close to love for the first time in my life.

I have never loved anyone, nor have I ever felt love in return. But if this is what it feels like… is it meant to be this confusing? Is it meant to be this soul consuming? This painful?

If, one day, things get to become all too much, I will burn this letter and leave. I don’t know where I will go, but wherever I do go will ensure you a happier, safer life without me lurking in the background, trying to figure out what these feelings I have truly mean. I think I know what they mean now, at least a little.

They really do terrify me.

And once before, I did say to you that finding a planet that had never heard of the First Order and making a home there for myself might be best for me. I stand by that. I stand by the fact that you will live a happier life without having to worry about me.

I do truly encourage your happiness. And I always will.

Yours faithfully and forever,

Armitage.

–

Armitage pulls his hand out of yours and turns around. He makes to walk away, but doesn’t go far – only ends up standing a few steps away from you, staring out at the setting sun in the distance, which is rapidly getting lower and lower in the sky, and soon enough it will be dark.

If it’s dark, you won’t be able to see the shame on his face.

You wait patiently behind him, your arms crossed, and watch him. You’ve never tried to rush him in anything – and you’re not going to start rushing him now. Not when you can see how hard this is for him – for the both of you.

Love, you’d never expected that. You’d never expected him to feel that for you.

He clears his throat, and then speaks without looking at you.

“I knew what I was thinking that night we were interrupted on Arkanis,” he began. “I don’t think I entirely knew what I was doing or why I was doing it… but I was thinking straight. If we weren’t interrupted, I was– I was going to kiss you.”

You take a step towards him. “I know.” You pause. “I wanted you to.”

That makes him spin back around, and the look on his face is nothing but pure and utter shock. His mouth is slightly open in his shock and his eyebrows are furrowed.

“You– what?”

You take another step towards him. “I wanted you to kiss me. And then you told me it was a mistake, a lapse in your judgment, and I assumed that it had just been a spur of the moment thing. That you hadn’t meant it. That you regretted even trying.”

Armitage fumbles for words. He shakes his head. Disbelief is all he feels. “Why– why didn’t you say so?”

“Because when I tried to talk to you about it, you went and got yourself into a mood with me, and every time I tried to talk to you after you looked at me like I was… like I was the last person you wanted to see!”

In your anger, you’ve stepped even closer to him, and you’re standing right in front of him and staring up at him before you realise. Armitage had tried to distance himself from you for this very reason – if he got too close…

Silence falls over the both of you.

He’s looking at you… and you’re looking at him, and that same something that had travelled between you both in Arkanis fizzles again.

His voice is quiet, barely even audible, yet clearly filled with nerves, when he speaks. “Do you still want me to kiss you?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitance in you.

“Can I?”

You’re smiling. “Yes.”

And this time, Armitage starts to lean in a little confidently than before. Because nobody can interrupt you here. Because after a week of wanting to go back to that night on Arkanis, finally he’s here again. He’s here again. And you’re here in front of him, and it’s you.

For him, everything is you.

Your arms are loosely wrapped around his neck and the letter that had brought all of this on is still held securely in one of your hands. And you’re closer to him than anyone ever has been before, until finally… finally…

His lips touch yours.

Months of wanting and not realising. Days of wishing. Hours of hoping.

And he’s kissing you. You’re kissing him back.

He’s sharing another first with you. He has a feeling it won’t be the last.

His first kiss. And it’s you.

When you pull away, you don’t go far. Armitage’s arms are wrapped around you, holding you close, and he’s grinning more than he’s ever done before. He’s never smiled like this. He’s never been this– this happy. He’s never felt this loved.

He’d really thought you could never feel the way he felt.

You’ve proven him wrong once again.

“This is going to be strange for a little while, isn’t it?” You breathe, and then laugh.

“I imagine so.”

–

When you both begin the walk back to the base, your hand finds Armitage’s once again. He smiles as he looks down at it. He finds he’s getting used to the sensation.

“I’m only holding it so you don’t try and run off again,” you warn with a smile.

Armitage snorts. “Have fun trying to get rid of me now.”

“Oh, but why would I ever want to do that? You’re stuck with me now.”

He smiles. “I could think of worse places to be.”

–

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