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unemployedhockeyfan · 3 months

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Not All Breakups Are Equal

Summary: Lando and Eloise, two best friends. They'd been there for one another for as long as they could remember. But, just a few short weeks change everything.

Warnings: angst I guess

Notes: Hi! This is a first for me, so please share your feedback!! Let me know if you want a part 2!!

[1.4k]

This was not how it was supposed to end.

We were supposed to be friends until our dying breaths. If I let my true imagination wander, it wouldn’t have ended just like that either. If I was honest with myself early on, he would have been the man I saw as I walked down the aisle.

But here we are in his way-too expensive Monaco apartment.

“Eloise, I don’t understand why you are so pressed about this,” Lando shouted in my direction.

The issue was nearly nonexistent three weeks ago. Lando, my best friend, had been seeing a new girl. I had tried my best to try and get to know her — it is what I always did when a new woman entered his life.

The key is that I tried. She didn’t want any part in being my friend. Only a few days after I had met the new fling, I found out what she had to say about me.

None of it was good. Honestly, most of it was vile. She’s so fake. She’s just jealous because he will never look at her like that. He just pities her. I’ll make him forget her name.

As my mind continues to be clouded by what my best friend’s new girlfriend thinks of me, I’m thrust back into reality. Lando and I are shouting at each other — something we never used to do. Really, this may be the first time it’s ever happened.

Max, a mutual friend to both of us, is sitting awkwardly on the couch. He clearly wishes he was anywhere but this apartment. I can only imagine what Lando’s neighbors are thinking at this moment.

“How could I not care, Lando?” I yelled back.

“She was joking,” Lando responded.

This wasn’t a joke. A joke is between friends. A joke isn't supposed to leave you crying on the bathroom floor.

A joke isn’t supposed to end a friendship.

“She was not joking, Lando. She was serious. If you cannot support me, if you cannot tell her that it’s not OK to talk about me like that, I’m not sure we can be friends anymore.”

I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth, and by the look on Lando’s face, I don’t think he can either.

“Eloise,” Lando said before he paused to take in my emotions.

I felt the tears rolling down my face. I hadn’t even realized the tears had started to come. But how could they not? A 15-year friendship was only a few words away from ending. As I had made the proclamation, I glanced to my side and saw Max’s mouth agape.

The three of us — the three musketeers — had been side-by-side-by-side for as long as I could remember. My twin brother had grown up karting with them, and while Lando and Max were friends with Rory, there was something about the three of us that clicked more.

I watched from the sides as they grew up and chased their dreams and I watched as Lando made his Formula 1 debut.

Along the way, I had apparently caught feelings for the British driver, too, but I’d never openly admit that.

Max suspected it, though.

“You can’t seriously be thinking about ending our friendship over this?”

“I don’t know, Lando. I think we’ll always be friends, but I can’t be an active participant in your life if she is too. I need to protect my own mental health.”

Lando’s eyes were beginning to be rimmed with tears.

I cannot believe I’m the person who’s making him cry. When he and Louisa went through their breakup and I saw how sad he was, I vowed that I would never be the reason for his tears.

But, here we are and I’m making him cry.

The longer I stand here in his kitchen, though, the more I start to think about it not actually being my fault. He’s the one who invited his new girlfriend into his life. She’s the one who said negative things about me. I’m just protecting myself.

“No, Eloise, you can’t just walk out the door.”

My mind was so cluttered that I didn’t even realize I had taken steps toward his front door — that I had one hand on the doorknob. Here I was, though, a simple hand movement and step away from walking out of Lando Norris’ life.

“I’m sorry.”

I twisted the handle, opened the door and walked out.

I was three steps down the hallway when I heard the door slam closed. I paused, part of me hoping I’d hear his voice call out. All I wanted was for him to follow me out into the hallway and fight for me to stay.

As I stood three feet away from his front door, it was silent. He hadn’t followed me, Lando was still in his apartment — likely gazing down at his kitchen counter with Max equally shocked sitting on the couch.

It was silent.

I glanced back at his apartment, willing the front door to open. It never did, so I turned back around and walked toward the elevator.

This was it. Our friendship was over. No, our friendship was paused. I wouldn’t let it be over, at least not in my head.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much sleep I lost over it, I was going to always tell myself that Lando was going to come back. I didn’t care if it was him coming back to me as a single man or if he entered my life again with the same girlfriend as long as she agreed to be kind to me.

As I stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby of Lando’s apartment building, I braced myself for the evening chill. Before tucking my arms into my body, I wiped away the tears that seemed neverending at this point.

Only seconds after stepping outside, I heard my name being called.

“Eloise! Eloise! Stop, please, Eloise!”

It wasn’t Lando, though. It was Max being the friend he always is.

“Where are you going?”

It was a valid question, I don’t live in Monaco. Well, not officially.

My job allows me to work remotely, so I truthfully live wherever Lando happens to be that week. That’s over now.

“Um, I’m not really sure. I may just show up at the airport and see where I can get a flight. I just can’t be here.”

The look on Max’s face is one I hope to never see again. I knew at that moment that Max had always known. He knew about the crush I started harboring when we were only 13 years old.

“Eloise, I’m not going to stop you from leaving. I cannot imagine how much you’re hurting right now, but please know he does love you.”

“No, Max, don’t say that! Please, my heart can’t entertain that idea — not anymore.”

“But he does, Eloise. He just doesn’t reali…”

“Max, stop,” I shouted to interrupt him. “Please. I need you to not say what you’re thinking. If he loved me, even if he didn’t realize it, he would never let me feel like this. Even if he wanted to still see her, he’d tell her to be kinder to me.”

Max just stood there. He didn’t know what to say. To be honest, I didn’t really know either, but he knew enough to at least pull me into a hug.

That’s when I lost it. The tears started flowing and it seemed like nothing would stop them. Max laid a kiss on the top of my head, he’s always been another brother to me. He gave me an extra squeeze before placing his hands on my shoulders and pushing me away slightly.

“Just let me know where that plane ticket gets you, OK?”

“Always.”

With that, I turned away from one of my two best friends, with the other several floors away, and began to walk. I didn’t even have my suitcase. I guess I’d have to text Max about that one because I couldn’t turn back now.

It was just after midnight by the time I arrived at the airport — I had thankfully found an empty taxi despite the late hour.

As I approached the counter in the airport, the employee gave me a quick glance before her eyes returned to the screen in front of her.

“May I help you?”

“I’d like to buy a ticket.”

“To where?”

I froze, I still hadn’t thought this far. I could go home, but that would be the first place Lando looked. For as much as I wanted him to chase after me, I still didn’t want to be easy to find.

On a whim, one place came to mind.

“New York. New York City.”

#ln4 #lando #lando norris #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norrs x reader #lando norris x oc #lando norris one shot

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crackedpumpkin · 7 months

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𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟐 |

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”

“It’s a charity auction, not my judgement day.” You point out, smirking at your dad who’s adjusting his wig after sternly pointing a gavel at you. “Besides, I didn’t know that it was themed.”

“Maybe you should be the judge instead,” He says with a sarcastic scoff, handing over the gavel, “Put those skills to use.”

You bang the gavel against the wooden table, shaking your head disapprovingly at him. “I sentence you to a lifetime of being unable to make lame dad jokes.”

“Anything but that!” He gasps, collapsing to his knees in horror. “Give me mercy!”

“You know what to do.” You hold out your hand, gesturing for him to hand it over. He reluctantly takes out a fifty dollar bill from the pocket of his robe, slipping it into your palm discreetly with a handshake. You nod in approval, handing him back the gavel. “You have been pardoned.”

“Are you ready for the event yet?”

“Yeah, I’m going as a Musketeer.” You hold up your sword, lazily uncrossing your legs where they’re placed on the coffee table. “En garde, my good man.” He chuckles at that, pretending to be defeated when you pretend to stab his side. He falls to the couch with a cry, smothering you with his entire body.

You gasp in surprise, only to get the air knocked out of you when he rolls over. “Get off me!” You demand, shoving him off playfully. He obliges with a cheeky smile, sitting next to you with dishevelled hair.

“Right.” His phone chimes with a text. He skims over it quickly, getting up from the sofa and grabbing his gavel from the coffee table. “C’mon, Emily’s waiting for us at the museum. Her autograph session should be ending soon.”

Your fingers close around the sheath of the sword, hooking it onto your waist. Hopefully, no one would question why you had a real sword with you at a formal masquerade. Oh well, go big or go home, you suppose.

The car ride is peaceful enough in the beginning, but tension starts to rise when you approach the entrance of the museum. The majority of the ride was spent on the phone with Melody, texting back and forth about how excited she was to finally get the ninja's autograph, and how her date had gone.

The car slows to a halt, and you spot a plethora of reporters all crowded around a woman in a simple, yet suave black suit and a bejewelled black mask adorned with small crystals. Her hair is done into an impeccable ponytail, and a briefcase is placed on the table where she’s busy signing autographs.

“A judge and a lawyer…?” You turn to your dad who has a sheepish smile on his lips after adorning his identical mask. “Very cute.” You remark sarcastically. The mask you’d taken out moments earlier feels cold in your hands, your thumb stroking the glittering red rubies that line the eye area.

He simply shrugs. “You ready?” He gives you a moment to put on your mask before opening the door and stepping out. You hesitate briefly, glancing down at the sword. Nothing would happen, you decide, closing the car door behind you.

You go up the stairs together, making sure that no one accidentally steps on the hem of your cape. Luckily, you escaped unscathed. Emily spots you approaching, standing up with a bright smile. She holds her hands out to greet you, and you reluctantly let her take yours when your dad shoots you a look, gesturing to the reporters who swarm around you both.

“I’m so happy you could make it! You look stunning. I’m guessing a Musketeer?” She asks though the knowing glance directed at her husband reveals the fact that he’d already informed her of your costume before arriving.

“Thanks. You look…good too.” It’s hard for a compliment to not sound sincere when it’s about her. No one can deny how pretty she is. Maybe that’s one of the factors why your dad had fallen for her in the first place. You retreat your hands after, starting to feel uncomfortable being under the scrutiny of all the cameras.

Emily chuckles, accepting it gracefully. She looks at the line at her table filled with fans, seemingly realising how many more autographs she’ll have to sign. “You must be hungry. I’ll meet you inside after I’m done?”

Your dad wraps an arm around her shoulder, giving her a chaste kiss that makes you roll your eyes. “I’ll stay here. Why don’t you go mingle around? Maybe you’ll meet some new people from your school,” He says encouragingly.

You merely shrug, turning to leave. The entrance of the museum is decorated lavishly with an arch covered in fairy lights. Various guests enter with partners and some without. They’re all dressed to the nines, of course, and you even spot a well-known reporter lounging on the side with a wine glass in hand.

You avoid most of the crowds, choosing to sit down in a space near the back where a bunch of comfortable chairs are. The spread of goodies and pastries does catch your eye, focused on the tantalising pan au chocolates that rest on the left of the table. A chandelier adorns the centre of the room, the light reflecting off of it in glittering beams.

They went all out for this event. After all with such public figures gracing it with their presence, how could they not? You stare curiously at a hallway to your left, intrigued by some of the exhibitions you can see inside. Was that a dinosaur skeleton at the end?

You’d be sure to check it out after you’d gotten ahold of some of those delectable pastries, though. As you approach the table, you become aware of some of the whispers in the room growing louder. Luckily, there’s still some form of security at the doorway, poised to take action just in case anything happens.

As you move for the pan au chocolate, another hand reaches over and grabs the exact one you’ve been eyeing.

What the fu-

Your lips part, about to protest. The words die at the tip of your tongue when you see exactly who’s the person beside you. He looks familiar, well-built and impeccably dressed. You’re not sure exactly where you’ve seen him before, but there’s just something about him you recognise.

Maybe it’s his hair or his outfit? His shoes…?

You watch the stranger dressed as a… actually, you’re not sure what he’s dressed as. Either way, he takes a huge bite from the pastry in his hand, humming in content. He’s wearing a simple suit, but his mask is decorated rather simply. His sigh of satisfaction amuses you, letting a slow smile spread across your lips and all of your shock from his sudden appearance (and taking away the beloved pastry of course), fades away.

He freezes when he registers you staring at the half-eaten pastry in his hands, glancing between it and you. “Were you gonna take this?” He asks sheepishly, gradually lowering it back down onto his plate with a guilty smile.

You wave it off, take another and put it on your empty plate. “It’s fine. It’s just a pastry.”

Doesn’t hurt that he’s kinda cute either.

He chuckles. The melodious sound makes your breath hitch, looking away to take a bite, and chewing thoughtfully. “This is good. I wonder which company they got it from.”

“Oh, I know! It’s Papa’s Cakeria. You see, their butter has a really sweet aftertaste, and their chocolates are sourced organically, which is why it’s so clean and not overly sweet. Their cupcakes are really good too, but that’s in another store-” He cuts off his ramble when he notices the amused grin on your face, clearing his throat and taking another bite of his pastry.

You notice the flush on his cheeks, deciding to do him the favour of remaining oblivious to it. “I take it you’re a fan of their store?”

“I’ve tried a few things here and there.” He polishes off his pastry in a few more quick bites, reaching for a slice of chocolate cake next. “The thing about Papa’s though, is that they make their stuff to order, so you always have to order in advance.”

“Dang, so I can’t just waltz in and grab one?” You frown, disappointed by this piece of news. “Maybe I should find some Tupperware or something…” You mumble, though he seems to overhear. He clears his throat, taking out his phone and showing you the screen.

“This is their website. You should order at least two days in advance though, so you can secure a spot. I know the owners, so I can help you speed up a pastry or two if you ever need it.” He offers. You quickly take a picture with a delighted smile, pocketing your phone happily.

“Thanks, I’d appreciate that. I’ll be sure not to abuse the privilege, though.” You say warmly, your joking words drawing a laugh out of him.

He shakes his head in amusement. “Anything for a fellow pastry-lover.”

“So, what’s your name?”

He pauses a forkful of cake halfway to his mouth. “My name’s Cole.”

Oh?

Wasn’t the guy at the comic book store also named Cole? The very guy who coincidentally turned out to be your soulmate? But the man standing in front of you now is completely different from his frigid, cold and angsty demeanour.

However, his eyes glint with the same gold tint when the light reflects off of them, and although his hair is styled a little differently, his wavy strands are still the same. The only thing different is his outfit and his attitude.

“Hold on.” You place the plate down, taking a moment to gather yourself. The complete overturn of his brash attitude toward you yesterday is a stark contrast to his current one. The drastic difference gives you whiplash, even mistaking him for a gentleman. “You’re sure your name is Cole?”

“I’m pretty sure,” He chuckles, nonchalantly continuing to munch on his cake. Your hand subconsciously grips the hilt of your sword, fight or flight instinct creeping up on you. You didn’t want to feel as powerless as you did last time when he’d forcefully dragged you into that alleyway. That’s not how your mother raised you.

His curious eyes signal another unsaid question. Before he can ask it, however, a calm, yet friendly voice interrupts.

“Cole! Where were you? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” A man dressed similarly as Cole asks worriedly, making his way over. He notices you, glancing at Cole who stares back just as cluelessly. “And who is this?”

“She was just about to tell me.” Cole shrugs.

The presence of his relaxed and soothing voice does ease your nerves a little, letting go of the hilt. You take another moment to compose yourself before saying your name. So much for not seeing each other ever again. You’re not sure if it’s fate or luck, but either way, you’d be sure to not let him realise now that you’re his soulmate.

Now that you’ve regained your composure, though, you realise one fundamentally wrong with the picture-perfect scene in front of you of the two boys chatting with each other.

One of them has metal as skin.

You don’t want to be rude, so you decide not to point it out. After all, he seems nice enough. You take a step toward the cake, Cole noticing and helping you take a slice. “Thank you,” You say gratefully, though your gaze flits over to the very person you’re dying to not ask.

Cole spots this, clearing his throat and introducing his friend. “This is Zane.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He takes your hand and places a small kiss on it. You’re too stunned by this sudden move to reply, processing his name. It rings a faint bell, finally placing his face.

“You’re the Ice Ninja,” You state simply. He nods, confirming your words. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” You hurriedly add to not seem impolite. Melody’s reminder nudges a small corner in your mind, the wheels finally turning. You hurriedly take out an album of the ninja from the hidden pocket of your vest, along with a marker.

“I know we just met, but I was wondering if you’d do me a favour. Could you sign this for a friend of mine? Her name’s Melody. She’s a really big fan of the ninja.” Zane takes the marker and signs it with a smile, adding a small message at the end before handing it back to you.

“I hope this will suffice?”

“It’ll more than suffice, thank you!” You say gratefully, putting away the album before noticing Cole’s outstretched hand. “Can I help you…?”

“It’s nothing.” He coughs, retracting it. Zane glances at him curiously, about to say something before he’s silenced by a quick shake of his friend’s head. You watch the whole exchange go down with an oblivious smile, focusing purely on the rest of the buffet spread.

“I have to go check on Master Wu now, but I hope you enjoy the party. It was nice meeting you.” The words are just empty formalities, but there’s a sense of sincerity in Zane’s voice, along with a hint of amusement.

Cole holds up his plate with a different cake now on it, the yellow sponge with buttercream nestled between its layers making your mouth water. “Want another slice?”

You agree with an eager nod, humming happily when the scent of lemon fills your mouth upon taking a bite. “So tell me, fellow cake enthusiast, how does one simply get to know the Ice Ninja enough for him to be so familiar with you?”

“We’ve been friends for a while now.” His words intrigue you, though you can’t help but still feel wary around him. It doesn’t seem like he’s realised who you are yet though, so that’s a relief. “I think it’s been like, what, five years? I can’t remember anymore,” He laughs. “Besides that, it seems like this friend of yours knows her stuff.”

“She does. She became a fan a couple of months ago and every time she rambled about them I’d kinda tune her out,” You admit sheepishly. He raises a brow in interest. “In my defence, it’s almost always the same thing about how Kai’s the strongest or something.”

He takes a break from yet another slice of cake to take a sip of water. “Well, you should never say that around him, that’s for sure,” He muses.

Seriously though, how is this guy downing cakes faster than you can talk?

“I take it he’s another friend of yours?”

“You could say that. He’s more like an annoying brother that needs to be given a good whack every now and then to bring his ego back down to earth.”

“If you’re their friend, could you do me a favour?” He tilts his head.

“Anything for my fellow cake enthusiast,” he replies, cheekily quoting you from earlier.

“Could you help me get his autograph too? I kinda need autographs from all of them, and if I don’t keep my promise to her…There’ll be consequences, that’s for sure.” Your emotionless smile makes him laugh, already resigning yourself to the fate of a hospital bill to be paid for your poor finger.

“What kind of consequences?”

“Broken pinky finger, y’know the usual.” You reply with a shrug, handing him the album and marker. “Pretty please?”

Cole takes it from you with a playful salute. “You have my word.”

He disappears into the crowd, and your shoulders instantly relax in relief. It’s incredible how he hasn’t noticed, considering that you’ve only just met yesterday. Then again, both of you look vastly different and even have masks on. It’s insane how different he is though, to a stranger who shares his clear fondness for cake, compared to his interaction with his actual soulmate.

Your fingers curl into fists, mildly infuriated by this fact.

Are you, his soulmate, not even worthy of civil conversation?

Ridiculous.

With that thought, you suddenly feel much better about your own reaction to him yesterday. Regret fills your chest when you think about how you could’ve given him another punch yesterday. Alas, what’s done is done.

You’re about to gorge yourself on the rest of the buffet when a blaring siren starts to resound through the halls, murmurs and confused whispers filling the air. The sound is familiar. A fire drill, perhaps.

Who’s the idiot that’d set fire to a museum of artefacts?

“Please remain calm everyone, and follow the ninja to evacuate safely.” A staff member announces, flashing their staff ID to reassure everyone that they can be trusted because, y’know, authoritative figures usually have a big badge.

Unfortunately, the presence of said authoritative figure doesn’t calm everyone else’s nerves. The people around you are filled to the brim with panic, and you spot a few trembling hands here and there. What are they so scared of? It’s not like they’ll get hurt with the ninja around, right?

Your mask slips off in the rush of people scrambling to the exit, roughly bumping against you in the process. You’re just about to pick it up when someone’s foot kicks it away. Annoyed, you make your way toward it, pushing past the panic. Again and again, it’s constantly kicked away from you.

Why are you even making so much effort to get it? A small voice whispers in the back of your mind. You push past another person with gritted teeth, finally making your way to where it’s landed in the corner of the atrium.

The answer is simple — because it’s made with actual emeralds.

Or is it because Emily gifted it to you? The same small voice pokes at your patience, trying to get you to admit an answer that doesn’t exist. It’s valuable, that’s all there is to it.

You spot a shadowed figure slipping away into a different hallway. Suspicious, you glance around. Good, no one’s paying attention to a simple musketeer in this panic. You skulk around the corner, keeping close to the walls as your fingers close around the hilt of your sword.

The further you walk away from the main rooms, the fainter the sounds of chaos. The lights are oddly dim, and a few flickers, giving an ominous feel to the room of scrolls that you enter. A hooded figure stands under a painting of an old man, an ancient scroll in their hand. They're engrossed, reading it intently to the point they don’t even notice your presence.

You draw your sword, the light reflecting off of it alerting the suspicious person when it shines on the painting. They turn instantly, rolling up the scroll and stuffing it into their cloak. “Who are you?” You demand.

Upon seeing you, their shoulders relax, a shadowed smirk on their lips almost as if to say ‘Oh look, I’ve been caught by a costumed musketeer’. Unfortunately for them, you’d taken a few lessons in kendo.

Sure, maybe you’ve never bested your master to this day, but whatever skills or muscle memory you have, you’d have to utilise it to the best of your abilities. A sense of unease stirs something uncomfortable in your stomach, eyeing their shapeless figure and trying to figure out what exactly seemed so off about this person.

They watch you, making no move to defend themselves. They’re waiting, you realise, to see what you’re going to do next. “I will use this,” You threaten, though the way you glance around the room draws a muffled laugh out of them.

Are they…amused?

“Over here!” A voice echoes down the hallway, just out of sight. This alerts them, glancing between the skylight and you before seemingly deciding that being caught isn’t worth the entertainment value you provide.

Before you can react, they punch the ground, revealing an arm covered in a strange contraption, reminding you of a gauntlet. The tiled floor caves below you, and you fall into a pit of their making. “Hey!” You shout, scrambling to your feet, watching them easily manoeuvre their way to the skylight and exit without a problem.

“Damn it,” You mumble, sheathing your fallen sword with a frown. They’d taken the scroll with them. So much for being a musketeer and bringing justice. Looking around, you try to climb your way out of the pit. However, your attempts are in vain as the ground easily crumbles beneath your fingers, giving you the honour of letting you fall again and again.

You grumble, sitting down. May as well wait for someone to arrive.

Butt, meet ground.

The light is momentarily blocked by a shadow. You squint, looking up to see someone staring down at you. He jumps down from above, landing with ease. You scan him briefly, taking in his black gi and hood that covers his face. The Earth Ninja. Once his gaze lands on you, however, he does a double take.

Recognition flashes in his eyes for a fleeting moment. He shakes his head, refusing to let it sidetrack him from his duty. "There’s someone down here!" he urgently calls to what you suppose is another person above, before pivoting back to you. You regard him with an air of suspicion, mildly confused about his reaction toward you.

His voice, his piercing gaze, his build…Finally, finally, the puzzle pieces click into place. You stare at him, ignoring his concerned hand reaching out for you. “Come on! We gotta get out of here!”

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

You reluctantly take it, allowing him to tug your body into his arms as he hauls you out of the pit. Landing on solid ground jolts you, and you grumpily hit his arm, sending him a signal to at least make your journey more comfortable.

He accepts it with a muffled huff under his hood, manoeuvring you with care until both of you stand outside. You let go of his arm, taking a step back and brushing yourself off. The weight of his gaze lingered on you, and you met his eyes head-on. A flinch gives him away, and he awkwardly turns, feigning interest in checking on other civilians who had also escaped unharmed, thanks to the rest of the ninjas.

You can’t help the exasperated sigh that brushes past your lips, crossing your arms. “Of course, my soulmate’s the fucking earth ninja.”

#ninjago #lego ninjago #cole brookestone #cole brookstone x reader #cole x reader #ninjago x reader #cole ninjago #lego ninjago x reader

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iamknicole · 6 months

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Chapter Twelve

A/N: I'm interested in knowing who yall wanna fight more after this chapter.. Nadine, Gia or Josh😂😂 ⭐⭐LIKE, REBLOG, COMMENT & SHARE⭐⭐

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of abortion, typos, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Masterlist

Chapter Eleven

Flashback #1

“When you was still in Texas you complained about missing me and how I don't come visit enough but you get ya ass here and don't come see me or text.” Sefa fussed, pushing her away from him. “Nope, don't hug me. Move.”

“Stop being like that. You know Zay be hogging me to himself. He cry when I got to work.”

Sefa finally stopped pushing her away, allowing her to hug him. He squeezed her just as tight as she squeezed him. When Moriah and Zilla met as kids, she made herself the third musketeer to Sefa and Zilla and fit perfectly.

“He cry without you?” Sefa laughed.

She nodded then frowned, swatting Zilla's hand away from her face. “Stop it, Fatu.”

He kissed her cheek, laughing when she wiped it away. “I was just tryna fix your hair, damn. What's up, Sefa?”

The two men slapped hands and hugged.

“Nothin, Moriah was tellin me the reason she ain't come see me or text me is cause you cry without her.”

Turning to his left, Zilla stared down at his girlfriend with his brows furrowed. When she tried to hide behind Sefa, he caught her by her hips pulling her into him. She squealed as his fingers dug into her hips.

“I cry? Is that true?”

She giggled trying to get away from him. “It is. You do, cry baby!”

“Fat,” he called, pulling her into a bear hug, “Tell the truth.”

She giggled. “Okay, okay, you don't cry! Let me go.”

Upon releasing her from the hug, Zilla thumped her ear prompting Sefa to step in. He knew if he didn't, the two of them would continue their play fighting just like when they were all kids. In the midst of their conversation, Trinity came back outside to retrieve Moriah to bring her back inside. Sefa turned to his younger cousin expectantly, making him laugh.

“What? Why you looking at me like that?”

Sefa folded his arms across his broad chest. “You know why. Updates, uce. How yall been? Everything straight?”

Whenever Sefa would visit Zilla, their conversation always went to Moriah. If Zilla didn't bring her up, Sefa did. Their talks were pretty similar each time; how she was doing, if she had come to see him, how much Zilla had missed her, if she'd called Sefa. The older cousin hated the way Zilla deflated and got sad whenever he admitted that he still hadn't gotten a visit from her and how he knew she was upset with him.

“Yeah, we good. Our schedules had us missing each other but hers finally calmed down so that's fixed.” Zilla responded, leaving out the revelation and struggle the couple just went through. “Don't worry, man. She ain't going nowhere and neither am I.”

Sefa visibly relaxed. Although he saw how they interacted with each other he knew looks could be deceiving. Hearing that they were okay from Zilla gave him some solace but he wouldn't completely have it until he heard it from Moriah as well.

“That's what I wanna hear. I told you if you got her when you got out that you better hold on to her and do the right thing, didn't I?”

“Yeah, you did. I'm doin both. I ain't perfect but I try.”

“Ain't tellin you to be perfect,” he explained with a chuckle, “Tellin you not to be your regular hard headed self.”

Zilla sucked his teeth playfully. “Yall love callin’ me hard headed. I listen sometimes.”

“Keyword being sometimes.”

Back at the grill, Jon joined his brother and cousin helping them load the cooked food into the pans to make room on the grill for the other food. He listened to Jacob tell him about the last show he was at but noticed his brother's body language was off.

“Hold on, Jacob.” He turned his attention to his brother. “What's wrong with you, Josh?”

“Nun, I'm cool.”

Jacob sucking his teeth let Jon know something was off. He looked between the two of them.

“I miss something?”

“He don't like sis. He don't think uce should be with her,” Jacob explained ignoring Josh's glare.

Jon laughed loudly for a few seconds until he realized neither man was laughing along with him. “Wait … you forreal? He don't like Rye?”

Jacob shook his head, giving a disappointed look.

“And why don't he like her?”

“Don't know. He ain't told me.”

Jon turned to his brother with a confused look. “Why don't you like her?”

“He don't need to be wasting his time with her. He need to be with somebody that ain't gon turn on him later on.”

Jacob and Jon stared at him in disbelief.

“Ima ask you something and you better tell the truth.”

Josh huffed, taking the last of the chicken off the grill. “What, Jon?”

“Did you and Rye sleep together or date or something?”

“Soooo how are things with your mom?”

Moriah frowned at the question, giving Trinity a side eye. “I told you I cut that lady off.”

“I was asking to make sure,” she laughed. “I'm sure that made things better with you and Zilla.”

Avoiding eye contact, Moriah gave a slight nod put her attention on the cheese she was grating. On the way to the house, Zilla promised that he wouldn't say anything to his cousins about her fertility and Angel during this family event. Even though she never promised, she felt like it was implied that she wouldn't either. Trinity stopped chopping bell peppers to stare.

“You might as well go ahead and start talking.” Trinity pushed. “I'm listening.”

Moriah whined. “I can't. Zay promised he wouldn't say anything so I can't say anything.”

“Did you promise?”

“No, but,” Moriah was cut off by the older woman.

“Okay then. Start talking, I'm listening.”

“Okay but you cannot tell Jon or anybody else.”

“I won't, I won't. I promise.”

She sighed taking a few moments. “I finally told Zay that I was pregnant when he got locked up and that my mom made me abort the baby about 12 weeks in. It was a bump to get over but we're okay now.”

Stopping what she was doing, Trinity threw her arms around her and squeezed tight. Knowing that she would cry if she hugged back, Moriah stood as still as she possibly could waiting for the hug to be over.

“I'm sorry, sis. I knew she was a piece of work but I didn't think she was cruel like that. How'd he take it?”

“Not good but we talked about it after some time passed. We're good.”

Both went back to their tasks in silence. The partial revelation hanging in the air between them. Moriah willed herself not to let the rest of the words escape her. She squeezed her brown eyes shut tight and tucked her lips in, counting back from 20 in her head. When she opened her eyes, Trinity was staring at her.

“Sorry, I'm okay. It was a while ago but it's still hard sometimes.”

“You're not okay. I know it still hurts and it still bothers you.” She leaned in once more to rub Moriah's back. “How did you still talk to her after that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I felt obligated I guess.”

“Well, I’m glad that you know now that you aren’t obligated to her in any way, sis.” Trinity felt bad that she had soured the mood with her question and wanted to lighten the mood back up. “When is this wedding, honey? I need to know when I need to be off and get fitted for my bridesmaid dress.”

Moriah laughed, emptying the grater. “What wedding are you talking about? There’s no wedding.”

“Uh yes ma’am there is a wedding. One between you and Isayah.”

“What … you speaking it into existence?” She joked.

Trinity laughed, bumping her shoulder. “I don’t need to do that. Yall are getting married, he made it very clear that he ain’t going nowhere and neither are you.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “As of right now, there was no proposal so no wedding. But when there is one, I'll let you know.”

After the fallout at Kamille's house, she called on one of the people she knew who could get her sister together. While it wouldn't do the trick completely, it would get Nadine to at least think about what she was doing. Her older sister was starting to spiral, it was getting out of hand. Despite their siblings divorcing, Kamille and Gabriella stayed friends and in for the most part constant contact. When Gabriella got the call, she weighed her options– should she call or should she show up.

Nadine snatched her door open, her eyes narrowed at the person on her doorstep.

“Aren't you gonna invite me in, ex-sister in law?”

Not waiting for a response, Gabriella pushed her way into the house and headed for the living room. It had been a few years since she'd seen the inside of this house but it hasn't changed one bit, just like the person who lived in it.

Slamming the door, Nadine followed her to the living room with a less than pleasant look on her face.

“Sure, Gabi, come on in. Make yourself at home.”

Gabriella smiled, getting comfortable in the recliner that was deemed as her brother's many years earlier. “Don't mind if I do. I mean this is my brother's house and he says I'm always welcome in and to anything that he owns.”

Nadine sat on the sofa adjacent to her guest. “Don't walk into my home uninvited again, Gabi. This is not your brother's house and hasn't been for quite some time now.”

Gabi smiled, tilting her head slightly. “True my brother hasn't lived here in quite some time but it's still his house. Last I checked, it's his name and his name only that's on the deed. He just let you stay here after the divorce because of my niecey pooh.”

“Is there a reason you're here? You know I don't like you.”

“And that feeling is mutual, sweetheart.” Gabi motioned to her face. “You might wanna put some more ice on that bruise. It looks worse than the one you left on my Moriah.”

“The one I'm gonna leave on you is gonna be even worse than this.”

Her words made Gabi laugh hysterically. “Oh, please, Nadine. You know what happened the other three times you tried me. But I think … I think this time, I'll just call Leata. I'm sure she wouldn't mind going upside your head again.”

“Gabriella, you have exactly two minutes to tell why you’re here and what you want before I call the police.” Nadine spat, rubbing her temple.

Gabi stared at her, taking her ex-sister in law all in. Her facade was slipping, she was starting to run herself down which was sad considering how beautiful she is.

“I remember when you were pregnant, you were so happy to be having a baby girl. You called my parents as soon as you and San got home, your joy flowed through the call.” Gabi recounted, keeping her eyes on the older woman, “You would call my mother and talk about how you and babygirl were gonna be best friends, have mother daughter dates, and how you were gonna be her cheerleader for life. But ever since you divorced San, hell before then, all you’ve done is harm her. You’ve left scars on that girl that will never heal, you’ve taken away any chance of moments that mothers and daughters are supposed to share. You’ve tried to break your own daughter down because you’re mad at my brother.”

Nadine rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the sofa with a hard sigh. “You flew across the country to talk to me about my child? This could have been a phone call.”

“It shouldn’t be happening in the first place, Nadine. I shouldn’t have to fly across the country to check your evil ass but here I am. If you’re mad at Hassan, you should be taking it out on him and not Moriah. That girl has never done anything to you.”

“You think you’re so smart, Gabi. You always did. Nobody is mad at Hassan.”

“Tell that lie to somebody that believes it. You’re mad at him but you wouldn’t dare take it out on him and I know why.”

“Oh please tell me why? I’m dying to know, Gabriella.”

Gabi chuckled. “Because somewhere deep down in that heart of yours, you think that my brother is gonna come to you and tell you that he wants to get back together. So you don’t wanna mess those chances up.”

The momentary look on Nadine’s face told Gabi everything she already knew. She knew since the couple started divorce proceedings, Nadine never thought Hassan would actually sign the papers. She thought that he would make some grand gesture giving in to what she wanted and they would go back to being married.

“Yeah, that’s what it is.” Gabi laughed. “You think my brother is stupid enough to take you back so you’ve been careful not to be nasty to him. But do you really think he’d take you back after the way you’ve treated his babygirl? Especially after he finds out about the shit she never told him. You’ll be lucky if he ever looks in your direction after that.”

“Just get your ass out of my house! You come in here thinking you know everything when you don’t know shit!” Nadine yelled trying to regain her composure. “If I wanted Hassan back, I would have him back.”

“Oh really?” She asked with a hint of humor. “So you think that after the way you’ve treated his pride and joy and doubled down on everything by wishing death on his son in law, that he also loves to death, he’d take your sad ass back? Even your twisted ass can’t believe that.”

Nadine jumped up from her seat, screaming. “That boy is not his son in law! Stop saying that! My daughter will not marry him and he will not be in my family!”

Clapping, Gabriella stood from the recliner a wide smile on her face. “What a beautiful performance! You deserve an Oscar for that, boo. Cause you know like I know it is only a matter of time before they’re married and you’re forgotten about, Nadine.”

“No! They’re not getting married! They will not stay together, if it’s the last thing I do!”

Gabi scrunched her face waving her finger in Nadine’s direction. “Yeah, he’s definitely not gonna want your ass back after I tell him about this tantrum.”

“Get out!” Nadine screamed as loud as she could but Gabi was unphased.

“I’m leaving but only because I’m done here.” She started to leave the living room then backed up. “Seriously though, I would start lowering your expectations about getting San back and start hoping he invites you to his wedding since you won’t be getting one to Moriah’s.”

Nadine had to do a double take, thinking that she heard wrong. “Wedding?” She swallowed hard.

“Oh yes. There’s a new lady in his life, we love her. Especially Moriah. She even knows about your looney ass and doesn’t care. She’s a keeper for that part alone,’’ Gabi gushed. “You know you might get lucky. San may take pity on you and give you this house outright to soften the blow of you never ever getting him back.”

The silence almost made Gabi burst into laughter but she held her composure. Before coming out to Texas, she had a talk with Hassan about what they wanted to accomplish from her visit. He wanted to take the heat off of his daughter for as long as he could so he was okay with Gabi revealing Tamera’s presence in his life and the seriousness of their relationship. The siblings knew that would keep her mind occupied with him instead of Moriah and Zilla.

“Toodles, DiDi! See you at the wedding. And I know I don’t need to say this but,” she paused dramatically. “Please don’t wear white, you’ve had your turn already.”

As she was leaving the house, she laughed hearing Nadine’s tantrum over her revelation. Their plan had worked, she hoped that it would prompt her in losing interest in Moriah and Zilla or at the very least last longer than Hassan predicted it would. When she got into her rental, she texted her big brother and Kamille to let them know the job was done.

“Why your face all tore up? Rye told you it’s time to come in. It’s yall bedtime.” Sefa joked, noticing the frown on his cousin’s face.

Zilla looked up from his phone and shook his head, trying not to be irritated. “Nah, it ain’t Rye. And I run this, I go to bed when I want.”

Just as those words left his mouth, Moriah poked her head out smiling, making Zilla jump a little and the men laughed. All except Josh, he sat quietly watching the interaction.

“Yall okay out here? Need anything?”

“We good, sis,” Jacob called back still laughing. “Yall good in there?”

She nodded, giving them all a slightly confused look. “Yeah, we’re good, Just watching a movie. How much longer yall gonna be out here?”

“As long as we want!” Jon piped up playfully.

Moriah laughed, “I was asking the ones in the top 5, not number 6.”

Zilla, Jacob and Sefa ooohed in response.

“Damn, she got you,” Sefa laughed. “We don’t know yet, Rye.”

“Thank you, number 2. I don’t know why six is getting beside himself.” She joked, dodging the bottle cap Jon threw at her. “It’s getting late so don’t be out here too late, Zay.”

He sucked his teeth at his cousins’ snickering. “I won’t, Fat.”

“I mean it.”

“Fat,” he called out, staring at her, “I’m grown, I come in when I want to.”

The cousins turned to look at Moriah.

“Oh then your grown ass can find another bed to sleep in if you not in the bed when I get in the bed. You got a hour, Isayah.”

Moriah went back in the house, the cousins laughed even louder as soon as she closed the back door. Zilla frowned playfully at them.

“Man, whatever. I go to bed when I want, she just tryna show out.”

“Nah,” Jacob laughed, “That was you tryna show out and sis put you back in your place.”

Zilla’s phone pinging interrupted him, he sucked his teeth when he checked his notifications. Sefa tried to look at the screen.

“Rye making you come in now since you was tryna show out.”

He shook his head still reading. “Nah, it ain’t Fat.”

“Who is then? Whoever it is must be annoyin cause your face tore up again,” Jon noted.

He put his phone in his lap, looking around at them careful to keep his tone down. “Yall know that backstage girl, Gia?” They all nodded waiting for him to continue. "She been commenting under every picture I posted today, she reposted every story I posted and now she messaging me. She can’t take a damn hint and it’s gettin annoyin as hell.”

“She like you or something?” Sefa asked.

He nodded. “She say she don’t but I can clearly tell she do. She be touchin me and shit when she talk to me no matter how much I move her hands off of me and will stand in my way if I don’t stop to talk to her. She can’t take a hint or she just ignoring them.”

“I get you tryna be nice but just tell her you got a girlfriend and you not interested.” Jon shrugged.

He huffed hearing his phone go off again. “I always tell her that shit. She always say she just tryna be my friend and keep doin the same shit.”

“She must not have met sis yet.”

Zilla nodded at Jacob. “She did! At the show this week! Fat almost beat her ass, she called Fat my sister then said cousin.”

“Sister?” Sefa repeated with a frown. “Yall don’t look nothin alike”

“And that’s what Fat said. She knew what the hell she was doin.”

“Next time she try you tell her the skating rink story, I bet she leave you alone then. The thought of getting her ass beat until she piss herself will make her stop.”

He shrugged. “All I know is, I ain’t gettin my ass beat cause she can’t take a hint.”

“Is she cute?” Josh asked, now leaning into the conversation.

“She straight, I ain’t looked at her like that.” Zilla responded with a shrug.

Josh gave a shrug of his own, Jon stared at his twin mouthing ‘no’ to him and Jacob sat back ready for what would come. Sefa sat perplexed as he looked through Zilla’s many notifications oblivious to the imminent danger his brother was about to put himself in.

“Ion understand what the problem is, uce. She cute, she clearly like you and putin in the effort. Why not talk to her?”

Zilla glared at him. “What you say?”

“I’m just sayin, shorty clearly shootin her shot. Go for it.”

Zilla started to laugh at his cousin. “Oooh, Fat must’ve already told you. Chill, ion want that girl, I’m good where I’m at.”

The way Josh’s face screwed up at the mention of him talking to Moriah was far too dramatic for it to go unnoticed.

“Hell nah she ain’t tell me nothin.” Josh spat. “I’m tellin you as your big cousin that you need to try another option. Being with Moriah was cool and all but you gettin older and need to be thinkin about settling down. She ain’t who you needa be settlin down with.”

“I know I ain’t just hear that. I know you ain't just tell me to leave my lady.”

The tone of voice was unmistakable to the cousins. They knew their younger cousin was pissed but Josh was the only one who didn’t care. Sefa tapped his arm trying to get his attention but Zilla’s eyes never moved from Josh.

“Wait, Josh ain’t mean that. He was just playing. Right, Uce? Tell em you were playing.” Jon said trying to ease the tension and save his brother.

Jacob spoke up a slight smirk on his face. “Naaah, he wasn’t playin. He meant that shit. Let your brother stand on that shit he said.”

“I know you don’t like nobody tellin you what to do but you need to listen to me. You love her but you can’t change who she is." Josh reasoned not backing down.

Sefa sat confused, looking between them wondering if it was something his brothers and older cousin had forgotten to tell him and Zilla.

“Ain’t no need to change who she is. She fine as is. The fuck is you talkin bout, mane? My lady straight.” Zilla argued, trying to calm his nerves.

“She gon end up just like her mom and you gon end up alone and heartbroken just like her dad if you stay with her.” Josh answered matter of factly. “Everything cool now but that's the same way it was with her people until it wasn’t. Thats what you want? Give everything to her ass just for her to divorce you, take the kids and the house? Cause if that’s what you want then I’ll leave it alone.”

Sefa spoke up seeing the rage boiling over in his younger cousin. “That ain’t cool, uce. She ain’t like her mom and whatever happened between her parents ain’t got shit to do with us or they relationship.”

Josh waved his brother off, “Fuck that. It got everything to do with them and us. If yall wanna stand by and let him ruin his life by staying with her then that’s cool but I’m not. She just like that lady, I can see that shit already. Save yourself, go date Gia or somebody else but don't stay with her ass.”

Zilla’s eyes met Josh’s with rage just begging to be released. Again he spoke calmly trying not to get too worked up. “Moriah ain’t nothin like that bitter ass, weak ass, evil ass bitch. This the last time ima tell you forreal. And I mean that. Ion know who the fuck you been talkin to and ion really care but when it come to that one in there I ain’t finna play bout her. Whatever you think you know, forget that shit. You my cousin and I’m tryna respect the fact that we family but you keep sayin that shit and I won’t.”

Jacob was proud of his cousin for staying calm knowing how much he cares about and loves Moriah. He knew Josh was lucky they were all related because Zilla would have beat the shit out of anybody else for Moriah without a second thought.

“I love you, Isayah that’s why I’m tellin you this,” Josh replied sincerely, “She gon end up bitter, weak and evil just like her mama. Why would wanna put yourself and your future kids through that? Especially when you don’t have to.”

At the mention of kids again, Zilla got up heading for Josh but Jon and Sefa quickly pushed him back then stood between them. Josh jumped out of his chair with his hands up in surrender showing his younger cousin he meant no harm while Jacob sat in his spot watching everything unfold with his beer in hand and a smile on his face.

“Chill, uce.” Jon said, attempting to calm Zilla down.

Zilla tried pushing them out of his way, seething with anger. “I told you stop sayin that shit! Moriah ain’t like that fuckin lady, aight? Do you even know what the fuck that bitch did to her?”

“And she gon repeat the same shit to your kids, uce! Listen to me!”

Again, Zilla reached for his cousin. “What fuckin kids, man? What kids? That bitch made her abort my fuckin son and made her tie her tubes! She made Fat life hell while I was gone and you sittin here actin like you fuckin know her and you don’t know shit! Don’t speak on my fuckin lady again, I mean that shit!”

All four men stared at him in shock, they were at a loss for words. Zilla angrily wiped the tears from his eyes, his body shook with rage but he backed away. He knew the emotions she had inside of him, although partially for Josh, were mainly for Nadine and he didn’t want to do something he couldn’t take back. Jacob sat his beer down and stood, going to put a comforting hand on Zilla’s shoulder only for it to be shaken off. Zilla snatched his fallen phone up and stormed away from them into the house.

Jon pushed his twin harshly. “This why I told you to leave that shit alone but you just had to say some shit.”

“I told you that boy ain’t right in the head about sis and now you see and know why.” Jacob added, shaking his head.

Josh shrugged. “Even more reason to leave her ass alone. She gon resent him for that shit on top of everything else.”

Sefa stared. “And you still goin? Leave that shit alone. They happy. Her mama already tryna split them up and here you go. They need support not whatever the fuck you doing.”

“I said what I said. It’s tough but somebody gotta tell em.”

“I should go get em and let em beat yo ass for saying that shit after we just found that evil ass shit out.” Jacob said in disgust. “Sis is family. Better learn to be okay with that shit or learn to be okay with not seeing Zay.”

Zilla took a few minutes in the kitchen to calm his nerves before going to the den where Trinity and Moriah were watching their movie. Both women were cuddled under their own blankets on the large sofa watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre. He lightly nudged his girlfriend’s leg.

“What’s up, Zay?”

“Come on,” he said gently pulling the blanket off her, “I’m ready to go to bed.”

“My good sis go to bed when she ready. Right, Rye?” Trinity piped up playfully.

Moriah laughed softly, “That’s right. I was just playing, baby. You could’ve stayed out there as long as you want to.”

He gave a quick, quiet chuckle. “I know. I was ready to come in. Come on.”

Moriah told Trinity good night and grabbed her blanket and phone to follow Zilla.

Getting to their room, Zilla moved around quietly as he got his things ready for his shower. Moriah watched him, she could hear him mumbling under his breath.

“You okay, Zay?”

His movements paused, he looked over at her. “Yeah, I’m straight. You comin in with me?”

She thought for a second then nodded. There was something bothering him but she knew him well enough to know that he would tell her when he was ready to.

The next morning, Zilla woke her up early telling her to get dressed for a surprise he had for her. Apart of her wanted to whine about it being six in the morning but a bigger part was too excited about the surprise. During the drive to her surprise she must have asked him a thousand times to give her a hint or to flat out tell her what the surprise is. She scrunched up her face when they pulled up to a tattoo studio.

“Uuuuh what surprise is in there?” She asked then gasped. “Ooooh! You getting that one that I told your ass not to get covered up? Thank God.”

He rolled his eyes and smirked. “No, I ain’t. I like my tattoo, you don’t gotta like it. But my therapist gave me homework to plan something for us to celebrate Angel and this is what I planned.”

“Oooh you’re gonna get a tattoo for him? I love that, Zay.”

He laughed. “Not me. We. We gon get one for him.”

Her smile dropped into a frown. “Oh no, I'm not. No, no, no.”

“Why not?” He asked turning the car off.

She pouted. “It’s gonna hurt.”

“You so scary,” he laughed, “Mean as shit and scary as shit don’t go together. But I’ll let you bite me if it hurts.”

She sat quietly pondering the proposition for a moment. “Anywhere I want?”

“Anywhere appropriate in public, Fat.”

“And you won’t complain?”

“Won’t complain.”

“Deal! And if I cry, you cannot tell anybody,” she added.

He stuck his pinky to her. “Only if you go first.”

“Mmmm … fine fine!”

Six hours later, the couple was leaving the shop with their fresh tattoos. Zilla’s placed under his on his upper arm below his father’s name and Moriah’s on her forearm. While they were there, Zilla went ahead and added Moriah’s name by his right eyebrow. The couple stood in front of his car in an embrace.

“You did good for your first one, Fat. Zilla proud of you. You ain’t even cry.”

She smiled wide at his praise. “Thank you, I wanted to at first but it was just my nerves. It wasn’t that bad.”

“I told your scary ass that,” he pointed out. “And we’ll be back as soon as I figure out where Zilla name goin on you. It gotta be a special spot.”

“Boy, I’m not fooling with you. Anyway … I can’t believe you got that though. Why couldn’t you put it somewhere else?” She laughed.

He leaned down to kiss her. “The same reason I couldn’t put Mama name nowhere else, I ain’t want to. This where I want my favorite ladies cause I want everybody to see em and know.”

“You could’ve put it on your chest, Zay.”

“If Zilla put it there then Zilla gotta be shirtless all the time,” he pointed out. “Is that what Fat want?”

Moriah laughed at him, rolling her eyes playfully. “No, Fat does not want that. You get on my nerves. Shawn and Booker are gonna kill you.”

“Naaaaah,” he drug out laughing. “I told them. They was cool with it.”

“Or did they just know that you weren’t really asking and you were gonna do it anyway?”

He leaned his head down to her shoulder laughing. “Shit probably so. They know I can make good choices. Shit best choice I made was you.”

She stared up at him. “I can’t tell if that was a compliment for you or for me.”

“Both,” he answered, kissing her head. “Wanna get food before we go back to the house?”

“For everybody or you wanna sit and eat?”

“Sit and eat, Fat. We got something else to do when we get back to the house.” He informed her.

He released her from their embrace, leading her to the passenger side and opened the door for her. She stared at him as he reached across her to fasten her seatbelt.

“What we gotta do? Trin said she was sleepin in.”

“We got snugglin to catch up on. Ain’t you say I hadnt been wantin ro?” He asked, still leaning over, his face inches from hers.

“I mean yeah but your cousins are there and probably awake.”

He shrugged. “Guess you better learn to be quiet.”

#aao #zilla fatu #Zilla & Moriah #the samoan dynasty #the bloodline

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grecoromanyaoi · 5 months

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helloo since we're on the topic: top historical fiction (or adjacent) ? can be any time period I just really love your taste in shows/games/etc and am always on the lookout for history inspired media !

thank you!!! im rly glad im like. inspiring other ppl to engage w things im insane abt hudofajsdfdassfsad. anyways. i will probably expand that list bc i literally forgot every single thing i ever read. also i havent watched that many movies so far

ancient times: i havent really watched a lot of movies/series set in ancient times so far :(

rome HBO (2005-2007) (tv series) - OF COURSE. i personally think its one of the best series ever made. they combine political, miliatry history with the lives of every day people in an incredible way. they never let you once engage with the series through modern lenses. according to my teacher (a historian, archeologist & self described 'romaphile') its incredibly historically accurate, mostly the clothing, set designs, characterization, military practices, etc. except for the things they straight up made up, of course.

i really enjoyed gladiator (2000), i think its a masterpiece.

prince of egypt (1998) i guess?

all the asterix movies of course, all the animated ones and most of the live actions. but i wouldnt really call it historical fiction

ok i havent actually finished watching it for now but sebastiane (1976) - an erotic, x rated, gay interpretation of the martyrdom of st sebastian. its in latin also.

wait i cant believe i forgor about assassin's creed odyssey - so far the only one ive played. its so fun and incredibly immersive visually. especially pour moi who cries into the pillow about how ill never experience the ancient world. also you can b a faggot which is always fun. i have things to say about their portrayal of same-sex sexuality and slavery in classical greece but i get why they did that considering its supposed to like. appeal to a lot of people, and a more "historically accurate" portrayal (for example of pederasty or how common slavery was etc.) would b v difficult for a lot of their target audience. alas.

medieval and early modern era:

the name of the rose (1986) - my medieval history teacher literally showed us bits of this movie to teach us about monasteries and monks fhdosiasdjasd.

the borgias (2011-2013) - incredibly messy, lots of political intrigue, and so so fun to watch. about the history of the borgia family. filled to the brim with drama.

the three musketeers (1993) - my favorite adaptation, also coincidentally the one i grew up on. casting tim curry as richelieu was genius. he slays so hard.

i also like bbc's the musketeers (2014-2016) - a neat little series. very fun and entertaining to watch.

outlaw king (2018) - like i dont think most ppl heard of this movie. its about robert the bruce's fight to reclaim the throne of scotland. starring chris pine

vikings (2013-2020) - its fun. i havent watched the entire series tho. dont expect anything resembling historical accuracy

the northman (2022) - you will see something resembling historical accuracy

mihai viteazul (michael the brave) (1971) - a fun movie. very much romanian propaganda tho.

1670 (2023-) - such a fun series!!! incredible cast, shows respect to the actual history and the lives of historical people. really cute and funny.

caravaggio (1986) - a biopic about caravaggio.

wait i also forgor about pentiment - an intriguing, immersive, and incredibly beautiful video game! it has a lot of 'the name of the rose' vibes, with it being a medieval murder mystery taking place in a monastery. its incredibly touching and made me cry, and in the last few years i very rarely cry. also im 99% sure its an indie game? go support the creators!

vaguely-medieval/early modern fantasy:

mirror mirror (2012) - a retelling of snow white. a very fun movie imo, with incredible costume design. julia roberts plays the evil queen and she SLAYS. armie hammer is unfortunately in that movie.

stardust (2007) - one of my fave movies growing up. more modern-inspired but still.

the green knight (2021) - controversial i know but i actually loved this movie! i liked it both as a standalone movie but moreso as a 21st century adaptation to sir gawain and the green knight.

galavant (2015-2016) - !!!!!!! one of the most series ever! they manage to tackle such difficult concepts and conversations with a hilarious wit. so fun to watch. i listen to a lot of the songs still, and rewatch every once in a while.

disenchantment (2018-2023) - very fun to watch, especially the first season.

i also really liked the novel uprooted by naomi novik. its a polish-inspired fantasy.

modern era:

killers of the flower moon (2023) - of course. a masterpiece

aferim! (2015) - a romanian movie set in 19th century wallachia, about two officers, a father and son, who were sent by a nobleman to retrieve an escaped enslaved romani man. a lot of the people in the comments were calling the movie humorous and funny, maybe im missing smth (as im watching with subtitles n dont understand the original language) but it was a very difficult watch for me??

the handmaiden (2016) - need i say more

black sails (2014-2017) - a prequel to the famous novel 'treasure island'. not an easy series to watch. incredibly good.

the favourite (2018) - need i say more pt 2

the rabbi's cat (le chat du rabbin) (2011) - animated movie set in early 20th century algeria. a rabbi's cat learns to talk overnight.

the nice guys (2016) - a fun murder mystery set in the 1970s

o brother, where art thou (2000) - a retelling of the odyssey set in the southern us in the 1930s

victor/victoria (1982) - set in early 20th century paris. julie andrews pretends to be a man and takes on a job as a drag queen. extremely fun, extremely gay movie.

lady chatterley's lover (2022) - very much porn for moms but it was a nice watch imo

amulet (2020) - set in like. idk. sometime in the 20th century. this is a horror movie, deals a lot with misogyny, sa, and so on. i really like it, personally. a lot of people, mostly weird men, dont tho.

the great (2020-2023) - i have mixed feelings about this show. on the one hand, its really fun to watch. on the other hand, its basically ofmd for girls who have public mental breakdowns whenever someone claims corsets were oppressive. and theyre so weird about russians, jesus christ.

disses:

domina (2021-) - i just couldnt get into it, esp since i tried right after finishing rome hbo. it was kind of silly, and not in a good way. takes itself wayyyy to seriously.

i didnt like spartacus (2010-2013) - the dialogue was almost grotesque and the editing, especially the transitions, straight up killed me

damsel (2024) - holy fuck what a trainwreck of a movie. absolute waste of angela basset and robin wright. the only good thing were the costumes.

lancelot du lac (1974) - i just didnt like it at all. couldnt get into it. i guess it was way too french and artsy fartsy for me. a movie that was trying to say both too little and too much at the same time.

i didnt rly like bram stoker's dracula (1992) - i mean. it was a fine movie. it was definitely not the godfather. the movie itself was meh. the visuals tho? absolutely stunning

#asks #anon #mine*#slavery ment #sa ment

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wordsbymae · 6 months

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WarTrophy! Reader x Warlord

With a post-apocalyptic twist. I was gonna do the usual medieval style thing for the warlord, but I got inspired by Mad Max: Thunder Dome (An amazing movie), to do post apocalyptic sorta thing. Any way hope you enjoy!

TW: Gn!reader, Verbal and somewhat physical SA, grubby and sleezy male characters. Reader is from a well looked after community, therefore when the Warlord and his raiders come to town, chaos erupts. Violence, murder, battle and raiding, reader given fem pet names but no gender described. In my mind this is canonically set in Australia, because I am Australian and also mad max is set in Australia and also post-apocalyptic fiction just makes sense when set in Australia. Also reader has nickname blue

They came in the night. No warning, no threat along the horizon. Just pure violence coming to reek havoc in the moonless night. You were awoken to the sounds of screaming, cries burning at your ears. Jumping to your feet you rushed to your window, over looking the community of survivors and refuges. Death was everywhere. The town was alight with flames, the warning siren howling over the sound of shrieks and bellows of fear. You stood in shock and incomprehension for a moment, the shacks, houses and huts were being ransacked by men dressed in camouflaged uniforms. Men and women who tried to defend their homes were being cut down where they stood, or dragged away by their hair. Children were left to fend for themselves, some crying amongst the flames, watching their parents being slaughtered. Loud banging broke you from the spell you were under, someone was trying to break down your door.

"Open up!" A man yelled, continuing to try to kick the scrap metal that made your door. It wouldn't take long, it was barely put together. A split second decision was made in your mind. You couldn't stay where you were, you couldn't even stop to make a plan, or grab anything of use. You had to run, and quickly. Still in your sleepwear, you raced through your house, opening your back down with a grunt, just as your front door was slammed open. You rushed into the back alley, stunned by the destruction laid waste upon your town. You turned your back on your friends, family, community and rushed into the darkness of the buildings, leaving your town to burn.

This town was never truly meant to be a town. Before the Collapse it had been a nothing more than a water treatment plant. In the days and weeks after the collapse, people began flocking to its promise of water. Somehow ever after the loss of electricity, the plant still held thousands of litres of water, making it a refuge for all those who survived the end of the world.

You had been one of the very first to arrive, you had been fortunate to arrive with your parents and a few members of your extended family. You and your family practically built this town, saved this community. There was a reason why people knew who you were, why they moved out of the way as you walked past. It was your family this town was named after, your blood that raised it from ash.

And yet here you were, hiding in the shadows. Running for your life. Granted, there wasn't much you could do. The town lived in peace for so long that only the town militia were tasked with defence. Over the years, bullets, and gunpowder, became in short supply, leaving the hunks of metal once called guns useless. Most were melted down to make melee weapons, are fashioned into more primitive form of muskets. In many ways your town turned back into the past to strive for a better future. Most things were run on steam or water powered. Limited supply of gunpowder was made using items traded with other surviving communities. People turned back to the ways of their fore parents, hunting and farming. Life was good. Until it wasn't.

You came to a sudden halt, quickly hiding behind wooden boxes against the wall. The masked, camouflaged men ran past, yelling orders to one another. You grimaced as you saw a selective few were armed with guns. Pre-collapse guns. Either they were just for show, or someone very smart and determined figured out how to make them work in a time such as these. Most, however, had musket-like weapons and machetes and knives. At least you knew if it came down to it, there was a chance that you just had to be quicker than your assailant rather than having to dodge a bullet to survive.

After they run past, you quickened towards the wooden wall that encircled your town. In some places it was reinforced with steel and rock, but it would take decades to finally make a proper defensive structure. As the child of the founding family, you knew exactly what you were looking for. Once, when the wall was still being erected, and nothing but a metal fence separated you and the raiders of the new world, you had found a hole in the fence. Big enough that you and your childhood friend had been able to sneak out of town into the great unknown. Even when they began to reinforce it with wood and steel, you made sure the hole was still uncoverable.

You landed on your knees in front of where you remembered the hole to be. Footsteps were hurrying towards you. Raiders, friends or terrified civilians, you did not know. You focused purely on pushing the scrap of metal from covering the hole, leaning down, you pushed with all your might the large rock you had shimmed into place last time you had snuck out. It had been years since you had down so, it was just before Red had left, there was no need to sneak out anymore if he wasn't there to follow. You crawled through the hole, end in sight. The hole feeling much smaller than it did as a child. You knew your family would make it out. They would have to, right? So would friends and comrades. They were smart. Like you. They knew when to abandon ship.

If there had been a warning then of course you would have stayed, till the very end. Your task for the community was Peacemaker, a diplomate of this new crazed world. You were quite good at it too. Negotiation and diplomacy your strongest skills. If they had given warning, maybe you could reason with them, maybe no one had to have died. But raiders that come in the dark of night, killing all they willed , were not the sort of combatant you stayed around to reason with. Your task was to live, to survive, then to come back and rebuild. Always rebuild, as your parents had done all those years ago.

The metal of the broken fence dug into your hips, bringing forth a hiss of pain from your lips. You pushed through the pain, cursing as the metal dug deeper and deeper. With one last gasp, you heaved your hips through the fence, feeling the metal rip at the fabric of your clothes. Just as you were about to get up, run straight for the safety of the wilderness, a harsh grip landed on your ankle. Before even a thought could pass through your mind. You were dragged back, with force, through the hole. You screamed and kicked. Hands digging into the ground, fingers and nails desperately trying to find a hold in the soft dirt. You were flipped over. A man leering down at you.

"Ain't you a pretty thing, aye?" he sneered, his mouth opening in a wicked smile, showcasing missing and yellowed teeth. You scrunched your face in disgust, both at the sight in front of you and his hand gripping tighter onto your ankle. You were about to use your free leg to give him a swift kick, but the sight of a large hunting knife in his hand made you pause. He followed your gaze to it.

"Aw don't worry love, I'm not gonna use this thing on you, long as ya don't make a fuss." His smile grew, showcasing more blacked and cracked teeth. His face was a red blotchy colour, sweat dripped from his forehead, his weak chin wobbled as he spoke. In the fire light you could see the red veins of his eyes.

You tested his grip on you, trying to catch him unaware. Instead it backfired, resulting in him sitting on top of you, letting your ankle go.

"You be good for me sweets and I'll try to be as gentle as I can yeah?" he chuckled, your blood running cold. This man wanted something from you and there was no reason in the world that would stop him. You cannot reason with an evil man. You began to shriek, preferring him to killing you now than to suffer the injustice of his touch.

"Nobodies coming to save ya darl', Best ya get used to being on your back for me, it's gonna be real familiar by the time I get tired of you. Make me cum enough and I might just keep you" he leaned down against you, tongue licking up along your cheek. You began to trash harder, screaming. Begging. Praying. For anything, for anyone to came save you. He laughed at your misery, lifting him self back up to undo his belt.

"You ready for me to make you my whor-" a gargle where words should follow. You watched in shock as a knife was plunged in the back of his skull. Blood splattered down on you, your mouth open wide in fear and relief. You scrambled back as the evil man fell forward. You backed up against the wall, you could feel the wind blowing through the hole, your escape route still open. You started to make a mad dash for the opening, not thinking or even able to process what had happened, only focusing on what might have happened, what that man was intent on doing.

In a sick sense of Deja vu, you were once ripped from the opening. You were a bundle of feet and hands punching and kicking in all directions, your voice was hoarse from screaming bloody murder. A strong set of arms pulled you against them, and you fought like hell to be free.

"It's alright blue, its alright" came a familiar and calming voice. Only one person called you that in favour of your real name. You opened your eyes, there he was. Alive, breathing and surrounded by masked, camouflaged men.

"Red?" you whispered, not daring to shatter this illusion that he was still alive, that he had found his way back to you. You must be going mad. That evil man must have killed you, or you died in the smoke and flames burning your town. You blinked, pinched yourself. Even reached a hand to touch his face.

"It's me blue" he smiled, a perfect, lovely smile. Just as you remembered.

The men behind him shifted, causing you to panic, you grabbed red's hand and tried to run. You weren't gonna lose him again.

Instead of running into the fray once more, you were pulled back to red's arms.

"Red! We have to go! They'll kill us, please!" You begged, eyes looking into his warm brown ones. He places his hands on your arms, essentially trapping you were you stood.

"Red?" you questioned, why wasn't he worried, why weren't the men descending on you both with knifes raised. What was going on?

The fires had begun to die down, the screaming and crying was replaced with whispers of fear and a few sobs cried into the night. The warning siren slowed down to a halt.

"Red?" you whispered, not a question but a plea.

'Please still be the boy I knew before'

He looked down into your eyes, a sigh making its way pasted his lips.

He turns to his men.

"Bring all the prisoners to the town centre, no one is to harm the survivors unless I deem so. That includes coercing or forcing yourselves onto anyone. Understand?" he orders. His men giving a quick nod and salute before turning into the dying lights of the fire.

"No" you exclaim.

No, no, no, no, no

You shake your head, tears threatening to fall.

"You are one of them?" you gasp. The boy you knew as a child, the boy you had come to love, the boy who disappeared into the night, on a night eerily similar to this, returned as a raider, a killer, a monster.

A gives you a slight smirk, hands gripping you tighter.

"I'm not just one of them blue, I command them, I rule them" he boasts. A wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Traitor" you hiss. "You fucking monster! You absolute fucking bastard!"

Your anger overwhelmed whatever love you still had for him. Curled fists began attacking him, aiming for the face, when that wasn't enough to quell your fury, you tried scratching out his eyes. A pain seared across your face, you became unbalanced and fell on the very man who had threatened you a mere minute ago. Red had slapped you, caused you pain. One might argue you deserved it, lashing out like that. Most would say that's fucking irrelevant since he caused the destruction and violent occupation of your town.

"C'mon blue, you really gonna act out? I was being so nice too. Saved you from this fucker didn't I? Could've just let him have you" he pouted, head tilting to watch you try standing back up, giving the man's body a small kick while doing so. You balked at the sight of the evil man, his eyes still unnerving, even more so that he is dead, the movement of Red's kick, gave you the sick impression he was still alive.

A dangerous idea spread into your mind. The hunting knife lay unclaimed next to you. Red was unarmed as far as you could tell. You clasped the knife in a hurry, but before being able to take a slash or even stand up, Red's boot came crushing down onto your wrist. You squealed in pain, releasing the knife in a instant. His free boot kicked the knife away.

"Is that anyway to welcome home an old mate?" he tsked, "I know its been a few years, but come on blue, really? This? Trying to take me out with a knife?"

"What the fuck Red" you gasped, boot still crushing your wrist. "What the hell is going on, raiding? Seriously? this town was your home! How could you turn on us like that. How-how could you turn on me?" Pain, both physical and emotional rushed through your voice, once more tears began to spring, from the pain or the torment of knowing that your best friend was responsible for the death of dozens in your community.

"C'mon Blue! It ain't personal. Just the business of surviving. You think it brings me joy to burn this place to the ground? I mean to be honest it kinda does, but you know that story. But we don't have time to talk about that, right now you and I have a speech to get to." he grins, dark and cold. No way this is the curly haired kid you knew as a child. Red back then could barely kick a toad than massacre innocent civilians.

You let out a sigh of relief as he removes his boot. Only to let out a yelp in surprise as you are thrown over his shoulder.

"Let me go!" you cry, wiggling and worming in his hold.

"Not yet love! Got places to see and people to humiliate" his deranged laugh filled the silent streets you called home.

Before you only were able to see the destruction from a window still, or when you were at the edges of the fight. But now, now you saw everything. You watched in sorrow as you passed the bakery, still blazing alone, as the houses and shakes next to it had been pulled down. The school had been ransacked, pages and books lining the street in silent array. Childs' drawings danced lifelessly across the ground in the breeze.

Without even seeing where he was taking you, you knew where you were going. The town centre. A magnificent fig tree, alone in its splendour made for quite the impressive centre piece of the town. Speeches, weddings, announcements, birthdays and funerals were all held under its comforting branches. It calmed you to still see it still standing. Leaves fell with a hush down from its branches, as if it was crying watching the town that loved it go up in smoke.

You could hear your townspeople's whispers of fear and confusion as the watched you be carried into line of sight. You could see most of the towns population was still alive. The small group of men who were spared were pushed to one side, guarded heavily, despite being made up of elders, young boys, and a few injured men. The cluster of women and children were larger. You could see your friends and family in both groups. All accounted for, thank goodness. You were placed onto the ground and given to two guards, both quickly clasping onto your arms like their lives depended on it. You were off to the side, as Red sauntered his way to front and centre. He always loved being the centre of attention.

"Good people! How's it going?" he exclaimed, arms open wide and a smile gracing his lips. You could see confusion, vague recognition and just plain hatred line people's faces. More importantly you saw your parents both looking at you in absolute despair. You gave them a short smile and a nod, taking a deep breath when they followed suit.

Red began to speak again.

"Some of you may remember me, other's may not. I was one of you once, another member of this pathetic, weak society. You have no strength, despite your numbers. No courage or skill in warfare. Just a load of farmers, tradesmen and women. If this was any other town I would slaughter you all" he grins as if he is discussing a lovely day spent at the beach. Whispers become murmurs. Murmurs become barely contained talks of a massacre, of your towns soon extinction. You began to take shallower, faster breaths.

"Alright, calm down everyone. Maybe we need to work on our listening skills, aye? Now, let's put on our listening caps everyone. I said if you were any other town. Lucky for you bastards I actually like you guys! I had a good run here. Made some lovely mates" a pointed look thrown in your direction. "And was pretty well looked after, well until, you know. So in honour of the good times I had here. I have a compromise for you all." He clasps his hands together, and teeters back and froth from his toes to his heels.

"My men and I have already killed a whole bunch of ya, so how bout we move on from that, aye? You guys are gonna have to boost your numbers after my little stunt, and who better than the very people who massacred your friends and family!" looks of bitter disgust flow across the crowd.

"Yikes, bit of a tough crowd yeah. Alright look, the fellas and I used to have a pretty good place. But the waters run dry and also we're getting up in years, and so we're looking for a place to settle down. To have people to settle down with. So yeah we killed a whole bunch of your men, but hey! We're here to replace that gap. Maybe even help you guys with the whole defence side of things. I mean were those soldier fellas of yours even trained? They were easier to kill than a dead roo!" he barks out a laugh, his men following suit.

'What the fuck is wrong with him' you thought. Clearly years in the bush led to insanity.

"Oh! Before I forget" he stares in your direction, slowly making his way over. You squirm under his gaze uncomfortably. "If you little shits try any sort of rebellion or some shit like that. I'll slit their pretty little throat."

In a moment he brings a knife close to your throat. You reach your chin up, desperate to remove the icy sensation away from you. You look at where his eyes are directed, straight towards your mother, then slowly transferred to your father. Without their approval, any hope of rebellion or uprising is dashed. You are the perfect hostage.

"Great! Glad we could have this chat. So go have a good ole' sleep. Got a whole day of cleaning up to do tomorrow!" he beams, pulling the knife away just as quickly as he produced it. He turns his back on the towns people, grabbing your arm from one of the guards. You are dragged past the fig tree towards the council hall, located within the old water treatment plant. It is then you see how truly outnumbered you were. Nearly over a hundred men, all masked and camouflaged, line the water treatment plant, even with the men who were killed, there was no way your town could have fought them off.

You pulled back from Red, trying to get him to release his grasp.

"What is it blue? Thought you'd be happier to see your childhood mate"

"Fuck you, you dog" you spit, anger clear as day.

Red halts, and turns to you.

"Don't make me hurt you again."

It wasn't what he said, more so than how he said it. He's eyes lost their humanity, his features fell into sudden darkness, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You were looking into the eyes of an evil man.

You gave a quick nod, hoping he would lose interest.

"Good!" he cheers, and goes back into dragging you up the steps to the plant.

"Ya know I've never had a war trophy before" he mumbles

"Pardon?" confusion across your face turning into disgust

"You, your a war trophy." he deadpans as if its the simplest thing in the world to understand.

"I'm not a trophy" you grumble

"Cause you are, pretty enough, and you really think I'm ever gonna let you outta my sight again Blue? I've been dreaming about this day for years."

You carefully gazed up at him, his grasp on you had begun to soften.

He notices your confusion, or want for an explanation at the very least.

"You really think I would attack this place for water? Or for my men's retirement plan? Nah, blue. I burnt this town down for you, and I'd do it ten times over if you just asked."

It is then you are reminded of the skinny, lanky boy you made friends with as a child. Your mother used to laugh and call him your dog, when your father said it, he said it with annoyance. It was true, Red followed you around like a pup, always doing what you wanted and when. You didn't like remembering the day he left, mainly cause he was practically run out of town. It just took a slip of your tongue, it was an accident after all. You were a child, and didn't realise that sometimes words were dangerous. You didn't realise how much Red took your words to heart, or how much he cared to.

' Red, sometimes I just wish...'

'What blue? Tell me, I'll make it true'

'Well I just wish he was dead!'

You knew Red was being perfectly honest when he said he would burn this town down if you asked. He had already tried before.

I don't know about the ending or if reader is really a war trophy but the words came and i just put them down.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere prompts #gn!reader #yandere x gn!reader #tw violence #murder #oc #SA

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honorhearted · 3 months

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@morgansmornings cont. from (x)

The smell of blood and smoke laid heavily in the air, burning through Benjamin’s lungs as he narrowly avoided a volley of artillery fire. His horse nickered with displeasure, but otherwise kept galloping through the fray, leading him to safety while all around him, men clashed with sabers and musket-shot. Gritting his teeth, he encouraged his mount to ride faster.

No longer just a reverend’s son, Benjamin was continuously forced to drop his Bible in favor of a sword – to protect, to serve, to fight for the very friends and family he one day hoped to be reunited. Holding his saber aloft, he moved to charge toward an officer when he felt a strange rippling sensation.

Perplexed, he turned his head, but received a shock once the force of something – a fist? An improvised weapon? – smashed into his ribs and sent him hurtling from his saddle and onto the ground. Benjamin rolled and rolled, dizzy and discombobulated, before the force from striking his head against earth painted him out in a sea of black.

–

When he awoke again, the trees overhead were gone, and in their place were... Blinking rapidly, Benjamin opened and closed his eyes, attempting to make clear just what he was gazing upon. He was no longer outside -- had someone taken him indoors for m.edical treatment? Had they won? -- and feeling nauseous, he rolled over onto his knees, dizzy and swaying as he attempted to rise.

Toppling into the door on his left, he quickly tried jerking it open -- why wouldn't it budge? -- before someone spoke behind him. Crying out, Benjamin fumbled for his firelock, only to quickly stand down once he realized it was a woman. A very odd, very inappropriately dressed woman.

"Your petticoats," he choked, still feeling a touch ill. "I can see your...I-I see..." your figure.

The dizziness increased tenfold, and then the woman was muttering a bunch of nonsense. Tongue dry and sticking to the roof of his mouth, he accused, "Madam, by keeping me here, you are enacting a form of treason. If you release me now, I'm certain His Excellency will be willing to disregard your oversight."

Surely, she would be spared due to female ignorance?

Unfortunately, the woman seemed in no hurry to cooperate. “Now I have to ask," she treaded, "who are you?”

Benjamin bristled. "You i.mprison me in your strange home against my will, and yet you have the gall to demand answers?" Straightening, he reminded her, "I could very much ask you the same question, madam."

Patience, he tried to calm himself. No enemies were ever won over by bitterness and vitriol.

With this reminder as his primary incentive, he exhaled through his nose, then offered a stilted bow. "Major B.enjamin T.allmadge of the Second C.ontinental Light D.ragoons. At your service." Whether he wished it or not.

#morgansmornings #a collision of time #//sorry i feel like i gave you a fat load of nothing since i was setting the scene #no need to match! <3 #i'll have him be more interesting in the next reply lol #atm he's in shock modeTM #thanks for this! <3 #long post tw

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fandom-imagines-stories · 11 months

Text

Heaven

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 6968

Part One; Part Two

Summary: The final hunt begins and Athos and the reader rush to find the others before Aramis’s recklessness leads him into Visage’s clutches.

Notes: Finally! This trilogy has taken me a while to write, so I hope you guys have enjoyed it! Since this part switches around the reader and Aramis a lot, it jumps quite a bit, so I hope it isn’t too confusing. (Also, I can't believe how long this is compared to the others. oops)

Warnings: Violence, assault, death (some intense stuff, so just be aware. I tried to keep the opening scene impactful without being super descriptive)

More Musketeers imagines: HERE

“I demand to know where you are taking me.” You kept your tone as calm as possible as the carriage jerked and jostled over the unknown road.

The man who’d dragged you from your rooms made no reply, keeping his indifferent gaze toward the window. Trees loomed like soldiers in the twilight, the sun sinking ever further into the horizon. Abandoning you.

You wanted to argue more, but your voice had gone hoarse from shouting. Surely your fists had bruised form banging on the window. But he couldn’t hear you. Whatever your treacherous stable boy had told him had forced him away. Still, you held onto the hope that Aramis would come for you. A rat like Visage may have power, but even his brigade of idiotic followers lacked the skill to take on the musketeers.

“I know that Visage put you up to this,” you scoffed, eyeing your riding companion. “But whatever ‘claims’ he believes he has are nothing more than delusions. He has spouted nothing but lies ever since the death of his mother.”

While you weren’t sure where you had been taken, you knew it was further than you liked. You’d been traveling since early afternoon and you hadn’t the faintest idea where you were or why you were here. What could Visage possibly be planning?

You were trying to discern which direction you’d traveled when the carriage abruptly halted. The man with you grabbed onto your hands and tied them with a rope. He knotted it so tightly you were sure it cut into your flesh.

“Enough of this,” you exclaimed as you were shoved out of the carriage. “What crimes have I committed? What right do you have to imprison me and cart me off like a common thief? I am a personal friend of the queen and I order you to-”

‘Oh enough with your screaming.” The cold voice sent shivers down your spine. “No one can hear you out here.”

You turned slowly, lifting your chin and blinking back any fear in your eyes. The man you’d suspected scowled back at you.

You smirked. “Ah yes, I thought I smelled vermin.”

Any smugness in your expression was instantly slapped away, the sting of Visage's hand radiation from your cheek. Fuming, you opened your mouth to speak, but he roughly took hold of your chin.

“You have humiliated me for the last time,” he snarled. Visage shoved you back and you hit the forest floor hard, knocking the breath out of your lungs so that when he kicked you, you couldn’t even scream.

Three of his men stood by and watched as he switched between his foot and his riding crop. You tried not to give him the satisfaction of watching you cry, but tears flowed with your permission. You were too delirious from the pain to care after a while.

When you thought you’d surely faint, Visage took you by the hair and lifted you off the ground.

You spat in his face with the strength you still had.

He threw you back down and took the riding crop to your hands, bound in front of you still with a rope that had turned red from bleeding wrists. Every hit sent an unimaginable pain up your arms, shaking your whole body and shattering your heart. Your hands that were once kissed and praised for their delicate beauty by Aramis. The hands of an artist. By the time he dragged you to your feet, you couldn’t feel anything but the throbbing in your fingers and bloodied knuckles.

Visage nodded to his men and they pulled you up to a large cedar, pinning you back and tying you around the middle. Your cloak felt suffocating, pressing the sketchbook in your bodice into your chest.

“It is lucky your mother is not alive to see you now,” you said through the blood on your lips.

“Do not speak of her,” Visage snapped. “You preyed upon my mother’s generosity, all the while spitting on her family name.”

“You fail to remember that I have never been betrothed to you. Your mother knew this. She knew my heart belonged elsewhere.” The thought of him made your voice crack. “She knew my heart belonged to Aramis.”

The men finished tying the rope.

“It will always belong to Aramis.”

Visage slapped you again.

You took a deep breath and stared him in the eye. “I love Aramis.”

Again.

“I love Aramis!”

His hand gripped your throat, pushing your head back against the bark.

“This I swear to you, you ungrateful bitch,” he sneered, leaning so his lips were by your ear. “I will tear him limb from limb for the embarrassment the two of your sordid relationship has caused me. And I will revel in every second.”

He stood back, taking his pistol from his belt.

You knew then that you didn’t want to die.

“Aramis!” You cried, hoping that the heavens would hear you.

“It seems like such a waste.” Visage loaded his weapon. “There was a time when all I could think about was your touch. The way the dresses my mother bought you fit your body.”

“You will never get away with this,” you exclaimed. “I am friends with the queen and the best fighters of Captain Treville’s regiment. They will see justice is done.”

“That’s where you're wrong, Y/N.” He took aim. “Nobody will miss a musketeer’s whore.”

You tried to yell one last time, but with the final shot, Aramis’s name died on your lips.

With no rain and with this part of the forest being relatively remote from Pinon, there was nothing to wash away the blood. The dark, dried stains coated the leaves on the ground and left horrible marks on the tree where you’d been bound. Looking at it felt as though you were being brutalized all over again. But when you thought of Visage’s sneer or the sting of his hand, you only imagined them directed toward your beloved Aramis.

Any harm that should come to him would be put squarely on your shoulders.

“This is where it happened,” you said quietly.

Athos was stopping to give the horses water. He looked over at you with a grim expression.

“It’s a miracle they found you.”

You shook your head. “It’ll be a miracle if we stop him. If Aramis and the others go after him tonight…”

“You underestimate us,” Athos tried to give you a smile to reassure you, but he was never known for his ability to comfort. “We are musketeers after all. They won’t charge in without a plan. Besides, they don’t know where Visage and his men are.”

“I do.” You turned your back to the tree of your torture, holding your head high with new determination. “Madam de Visage owned an orchard just east of the city. I’d bet my life that’s where Visage is hiding while he plots Aramis’s death.”

Though you tried, you still couldn’t hide the growing fear in your voice.

Athos walked across the clearing and put a hand on your shoulder. “Luckily we will be there to take him off guard and put an end to his schemes.”

“I hope you’re right,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Oh, Athos. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t defied him, humiliated him, then-”

“Then you would have married a foul man you hate and abandoned the one you love, living out whatever days Visage allowed you to live in utter loneliness and misery,” he reasoned. “The only one to blame here is Visage. And we will see to it that justice is dealt and that you may reunite with Aramis.”

His blue eyes bore into yours until you couldn’t take it. You lowered your gaze to the forest floor.

Athos sighed. He knew that you were still warring with yourself over your return and he was fairly certain as to why. You didn’t see yourself as the same woman Aramis loved and you were afraid, when he saw you now, changed and broken, that he wouldn’t not love you. But after the past week of his friend’s utter despair, Athos knew that there was nothing that could take Aramis’s heart from you. Not even death.

He clutched the bloodstained locket like a rosary. Aramis stood a ways from the other two while they gave their horses time to rest and their lungs a moment to breathe. The trio had been searching all afternoon for Visage’s camp and, though the place the stableboy had indicated showed signs of a brief settlement, Visage and his men were long gone now.

“Tell me where to go,” Aramis muttered, holding the necklace to his lips as if in prayer. “Help me find him, my love.”

D’Artagnan nudged Porthos in the arm. “He’s doing it again,” he whispered.

“What?”

“I’m worried about him.”

“We all are.”

“I know, but look at him.” The youngest of the group motioned to their friend’s tense shoulders, trembling frame, and perpetual fighting stance. “Even if we find Visage, will it matter?”

“Y/N deserves justice,” Porthos growled.

“And I want to get it as much as any of us,” D’Artagnan sighed, “but what is the pursuit of it going to do to him? What will be left?”

Aramis stiffened, having pretended not to hear their conversation. He turned around.

“Let’s go. We still have a few hours of daylight. If we don’t find anything, we’ll return to the boy and force him to tell us the truth,” he said, mounting his horse.

“He told us all he knows,” D’Artagnan reasoned. “Scaring him more won’t do us any good.”

Aramis took off his hat to run a hand through his hair. “You’re right. It would just be a waste of time. We’ll just have to search through the night.”

D’Artagnan’s worried expression deepened, casting a glance to Porthos, who took a deep breath and nodded.

“Let’s find this bastard,” he muttered, though the concern he shared with D’Artagnan was becoming clearer in his voice.

Aramis urged his tired horse on with the two others trailing behind him.

They traveled for several more hours until their horses simply refused to go any further, much to Aramis’s annoyance, who was usually very gentle with the animals. Porthos plucked a couple of apples from one of the trees and tossed one at his friend. Aramis stared at the ripe red fruit.

“Wait,” he gasped. “How far east have we traveled?”

D’Artagnan shrugged. “Ten, eleven miles. Why?”

Aramis thought of a map you had once shown him of the Visage’s property. The orchard.

“He’s here,” Aramis said. “He must be.”

His companions exchanged the same worried look from before.

“How can you be sure?” Porthos asked.

“This is his mother’s land. The land he inherited. He’s a coward, he would have gone somewhere familiar. He must be here.” He drew his sword.

“We should think about this,” D’Artagnan interjected. “He practically has a small army working for him. We can’t just barge into their camp.”

“I know that,” Aramis snapped. “I had a plan before you three insisted on coming with me.” He paused, remembering the absence of their fourth friend. The others seemed to notice as well.

“Right,” Porthos mused, “where is Athos?”

You tried to urge your horse forward, the forest growing darker and darker by the minute.

“We should stop,” Athos said, slowing his horse from its trot. “We won’t arrive back to Paris before morning anyway, we might as well get a few hours of rest.”

“At best, Visage and Aramis are still hunting each other in circles,” you said. “At worst…” You shook your head and pulled on the reins. “We cannot stand to lose any more time.”

“I told you. Aramis will have a plan. Even if he didn’t, D’Artagnan and Porthos can reason with him to make one. He is not alone.” His eyes softened. “And neither are you.”

“Honestly, Athos,” you scoffed, reluctantly dismounting from your horse and sitting at the base of a tree. “You can stop looking at me like I’m going to break.” Your statement was not supported by the trembling of your hands or the way you avoided his gaze, but your tone was laced with determination. “I have to find Visage.”

Athos sat beside you with a light chuckle and a shake of his head.

“He’s been saying the same thing.” He plucked a blade of grass and held it to the light. “Both of you, so willing to throw yourself into harm's way to save each other, even if he believes he’s doing it for your memory alone.” Athos dropped the grass, watching it flit back down to the ground. “Love.”

“You say it as if you know it yourself.”

He shook his head. “Not anymore.”

You laid your head on his shoulder. Staring at your hands, you removed your leather gloves, wincing as the fabric grazed your scabbing wounds and bruises. No matter how hard you tried, you could not make them still, for they twitched painfully with every breath.

“You were right, Athos,” you whispered. “I am afraid that when I see him again… I won’t be the woman he wants anymore.”

Athos leaned his head back against the bark, drawing his arm around you a little tighter. And though he didn’t say anything, you took comfort in his reassuring silence. He knew there was nothing he could do to dissuade your troubled thoughts any more than you could banish his painful memories.

So instead, you both slept while, somewhere on the other side of Paris, gunshots echoed through the trees.

They found them in the dark of night. A few seemed under the heavy sleep of drink, but there were still some more alert standing guard. Visage was nowhere in sight. Any exhaustion plaguing the three men dissipated with a new wave of fury-fueled adrenaline.

A figure appeared from the largest tent, bottle in one hand and sword in the other. Even in the pitch black, the man’s arrogant swagger and barking voice gave him away.

Visage.

Aramis stepped forward.

D’Artagnan grabbed his arm, raising a brow.

“Surprise is everything,” he said, recalling his companion’s words from years past.

Aramis took a breath and nodded, though every nerve burned. Just one shot was all he needed. All of this could be over. He remembered his friends’ concerns. Once this was over, what would become of him?

Did it even matter anymore?”

“Those four on the left, they’re the drunkest,” Porthos pointed out. “They’ll be easy to deal with.”

“That still leaves twenty against three. Inebriated or not,” D’Artagnan sighed.

“All that matters is taking down Visage,” Aramis said.

“And,” Porthos started, “not getting killed in the process.” He shrugged, “At least until Athos gets here.”

Aramis tensed with a new surge of frustration. “Where is he? What could possibly have kept him from something as important as this?”

The other two couldn’t answer, for they had the same questions.

A branch cracked behind them and all three bolted upward, turning to face a wall of Visage’s men. Pistols clicked, ready to fire.

Aramis went one way, D’Artagnan the other, and Porthos down the middle. Ten men attacked from the trees, followed by the others from the camp. The musketeers fought valiantly and impressively, killing several of their opponents before Porthos was struck with the back of a musket.

“Porthos!” D’Artagnan exclaimed.

Five men surrounded him, forcing him to drop his weapon. One slashed a sword at his side.

Another group grabbed Aramis from behind and pulled his arms behind his back until he screamed.

“I’ve heard of the recklessness of the musketeers, but I must say I expected better,” Visage called over the commotion as the three were overtaken.

D’Artagnan glanced over at his captive friend grimly as the men pinned them both to the ground. “Surprise would have been everything.”

With his arms still behind him, they shoved Aramis’ face into the dirt while his anger swelled in his chest, and tried to jerk free.

“Don’t worry,” Visage sneered, now standing over him, “you’ll be with your whore soon enough.”

He looked the man in the eye, brought up his heel, and kicked Aramis in the back of the head.

The world and his hopes of revenge went black.

Visage let out a hearty, despicable laugh, pushing Aramis’ face further into the mud with his foot.

“Get him up,” he ordered. “We’ll take him to the tree where that sniveling girl died. Let them hang there together.” He flourished a hand and smiled. “I’m feeling poetic.”

“You bastard!” D’Artagnan growled.

The men stood him up as they lifted Porthos and Aramis into a cart nearby. He watched his friends go with a sinking heart. He had to do something. But he couldn’t fight this many men on his own, no matter how much more skilled with a sword he may be. Then, it struck him.

Athos.

Athos would know what to do.

But how could he find him?

Visage slapped him across the cheek. The sting in his face added to the growing ache in his side, but if he could just get his arms free…

“I can see why she left you,” D’Artagnan chuckled. “What woman would choose a man who lets others do his work for him? What woman could ever want to hide behind this army of mindless brutes?” He leaned forward and spat in Visage’s face. “If you want to fight, then fight me. One on one. Like men.”

The other man’s face reddened with fury. He snapped his fingers. The men holding D’Artagnan released him.

His stomach churned as he glanced at his unconscious companions one more time. How could he just run? How could he leave them here and flee like a coward after accusing Visage of being the very same? D’Artagnan closed his eyes and remembered Aramis’ words.

“All that matters is taking down Visage.”

If he could get help, they could defeat Visage and still, maybe, live to honor the woman they were doing this all for.

So he ran.

As D’Artagnan dashed into the trees, a group of men started to follow him, but Visage stopped them, his laughter booming in the youngest musketeer’s ears.

“Let the coward go,” Visage said. “He’s not the one I want.” He looked to the cart and smirked. “Now move! All of you!” The darkness in his eyes returned. Hungry and wrathful. “We can get to the spot by morning and make it a musketeer’s grave.”

“Hold still,” you whispered. The needle shook in your hand and you tried to force it still.

“I’m not the one I’m worried about,” Aramis smirked. He took your arm in one hand and put the other under your chin. “You’ll do fine. I’m right here to guide you.” He tried to keep the nerves out of his voice. Frankly, he was used to being on the other side of this situation and he didn’t care to have it the other way.

The wound on his chest continued to slowly seep with the deep scarlet liquid overtaking your vision.

“Just take a breath and steady your hands,” he instructed, releasing your arm but keeping a hand on your cheek. He nodded.

You began.

Aramis breathed through a hiss as the needle pierced his flesh and you muttered a string of apologies.

“It’s alright. Just keep going.”

“This is ridiculous,” you almost laughed. “I’m not the one with a slash in my chest. I should be comforting you, my love.” You leaned down and kissed his forehead. Aramis directed your lips down to his, letting his kiss reassure you.

You continued stitching until the wound was closed and the blood more or less stopped. Aramis craned his neck to examine your work.

“I don’t believe I could have done it better,” he grinned.

You were glad to see the color return to his face. When he’d come to you, he was pale and shaking from adrenaline. Whatever fight he’d won, was won with a cost.

You kissed him again, this time with all of your fear and concern and startlement. Aramis’ hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer.

It settled then, in both of your minds, that this was more than a mere flirtation. What began as little more than a series of private rendezvous in your bedroom had turned into something else entirely. Neither of you had intended it. In fact, it frightened both of you so much that you had to break apart to hide the panic from the other person.

You moved to the other side of your bedroom and stood before your vanity, where a bowl of water turned pink as you scrubbed your lover’s blood from your fingers.

Aramis watched you in the reflection and conquered his own cowardice.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words barely making it past his lips.

You froze.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. But, lying there in your bed, with a wound over his heart, he realized that perhaps this was exactly what was meant to be.

He spoke louder. “I love you.”

“Aramis…” It took only seconds, but to you, your mind seemed to reel for hours. How could you put it into words, for those simple three didn’t seem like enough? There wasn’t a way to describe what he’d become for you. He was a wild, untamable, excitement that still somehow grounded you. Both the shelter and the storm in every wonderful way.

You crossed the room and sat beside him. And, as you watched his dark, adoring eyes, you answered his unspoken question.

“I love you,” you said. “Of course, I love you.”

Your hands were steady now as you took his face in your palms and pulled his lips to yours.

Against your skin, he whispered the same, sweet phrase you’d heard time and again, and yet, no matter how often you’d heard it, it still lit a soft flame in your heart.

“Tu es mon paradis.”

D’Artagnan did not know where he was running, but somehow, he knew it was the right direction. He could feel it. The image of Porthos and Aramis in that cart fueled his sprint, even after his lungs felt as though they’d burst from exhaustion and his legs wanted to give out. Even when the wound in his side continued to throb and bleed to the point of concern.

He would find Athos. They would get help. They would bring the wrath of the entire regiment down on the scum Visage.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been when he heard the distinct thumps of hooves riding over fallen leaves.

He ducked behind a tree and braced himself. Luckily, Visage’s men hadn’t had the opportunity to take all of his weapons, leaving him with a single pistol and a dueling dagger. D’Artagnan again saw his friends overtaken and despairing. He would at least take out a few of Visage’s mindless soldiers on his way to Athos.

D’Artagnan took a deep breath, loaded his pistol, and leaped out into the path with a furious cry.

The horses alerted and reared back.

D’Artagnan aimed.

“Wait!” A familiar voice shouted.

The youngest musketeer met eyes with the clear blue eyes of his noble friend and a sigh of relief left his lips.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” he grinned.

Athos met him with a grim stare.

“D’Artagnan?”

The other figure dismounted from their horse, still hidden by the animal’s body. But D’Artagnan knew that voice.

You stepped out into the moonlight and D’Artagnan looked as if he’d seen a ghost. Of course, for him, he had.

“You’re alive?” He gasped.

You answered by taking him in your arms, the darkness in your chest lifting enough for laughter. His arms enveloped you, still stiff with shock. He pulled away to look at your face.

“But how is this possible? How could…” He trailed off, dark eyes wide and glistening.

You laid a gloved hand on his cheek. “I will have to explain later. I’m afraid we don’t have time.” Your eyes scanned the trees behind him. Athos did the same, realizing at the same moment as you. You looked into D’Artagnan’s eyes. “Where is Aramis?”

His gaze fell to the ground.

Your heart sank.

“Where is he?”

The youngest musketeer gulped. “He and Porthos were taken by Visage. I barely escaped.” Guilt washed over his features. “I only ran so I could find help. So I could find Athos. I didn’t want to leave them. I swear. I didn’t…” He trailed off with shame in his voice.

You put your hands on his shoulders. “If you hadn’t escaped, you wouldn’t have found us and all three of you would be dead by now,” you reasoned, though panic was rising in your throat. “The best thing now is for you to help us find them before Visage-” You stopped, unable to even think the words.

“Did Visage say where he was taking them?” Athos asked.

D’Artagnan tried to gather his thoughts, mind still reeling from your survival. He closed his eyes and heard that awful man’s instructions.

“He wants to kill him at the spot that he killed-” He opened his eyes, finding yours. “Well, where he thought he killed you.”

“That means they’re coming this way,” you exclaimed. “We can stop them on the road.”

“Wait.” Athos held up a hand. His eyes darted between the two of you. A thoughtful smirk played on his features. “I may have a better idea.”

Athos gathered the two of you and noted every detail, every possible variation. D’Artagnan’s face lit up with a confident smile. He patted his friend on the back. Despite Visage’s numbers, it could actually work.

You only prayed it wouldn’t be too late.

Aramis awoke, tied back to back with Porthos, in a wagon surrounded by at least a dozen men on foot and at least half that on horseback. He pulled at his restraints.

“Tried that,” Porthos huffed. “No use. They know their knots.”

“Where’s D’Artagnan?” Aramis asked.

His friend did not answer.

A hopeful man may have believed their young companion had escaped. But Aramis was no longer a hopeful man.

Aramis hung his head, the claws of defeat sinking into his chest.

“I shouldn’t have brought you into this,” he sighed. “Visage is my fight and now D’Artagnan is-”

“We don’t know that,” Porthos interrupted. He nudged Aramis’s shoulder. “And don’t start on that again. Your fight is my fight. Always has been, always will be.” Porthos leaned back as best he could, trying to give his friend a reassuring glance. “All for one, remember?”

Aramis couldn’t bring himself to respond.

Porthos just nodded, having enough hope for both of them. “We’ll figure it out.” His tone darkened. “And then we’ll get Visage.” Porthos’s shoulders tensed, searching the riders around them for their villainous leader. While he let his anger keep his head clear, the same couldn’t be said for his fellow captive.

Aramis stared out at the trees behind them.

Did Visage tie D’Artagnan up, shoot him, and beat him the way he had to Y/N? Another life gone… because of him.

Hours must have passed, for the sun had begun to peak over the horizon. He watched it with a heavy heart and a numb mind. Perhaps it would be his last sunrise. Worse, perhaps he wanted it to be.

“This is it,” Visage announced.

He sneered at the empty clearing. Animals must have picked the body apart and dragged it off. Too bad. He would have liked to see the musketeer’s face when he looked upon the broken form of the woman he’d stolen.

The wagon halted. Men roughly grabbed the two musketeers and pulled them to the ground. It took four to subdue Porthos as they cut them apart.

Visage grabbed Aramis by the hair and forced his face toward a tree with splintered, rust-colored bark.

“This is where she cried for you,” he sneered, pulling his head back until Aramis winced. “Where she bled and begged. Where the heart you stole stopped beating.” He threw Aramis down hard enough that when he hit the ground, he saw spots.

He almost thought he saw movement in the trees behind Visage, but it must have been the impact of the tree trunk against his temple.

“And now,” Visage pulled out his pistol. “It’s where I will put an end to your miserable, dishonorable, foul life.” He looked at the man before him with hate in his eyes and aimed at Aramis’ heart.

“No!” Porthos cried, almost breaking free. Another man had to help hold him.

Your hand shook more than it ever had before.

“It has to be you.” Athos had said. “D’Artagnan and I must take on the other men. You will have to kill Visage.”

But your hands wouldn’t allow you. You could hardly keep the pistol in your grip. It was as if Visage was crushing them all over again. Then you heard Aramis speak.

“I love Y/N. I love her with every breath I’ve ever had. I love her with every beat of my heart. And I will love her after my soul has left this body because I know she loved me all the same.” Aramis took your necklace from his pocket and brought it to his lips. He stared up at Visage, whose hand quivered with rage. Aramis accepted his fate. “And not even death can take that from us.”

Visage cocked his weapon.

You took a breath, steadied your hands, and fired.

A shot rang through the air and a mass pushed Aramis against the tree, slamming his already pounding head against the bark. Blurred chaos broke out around him. All he could see was light.

The pressure on his chest lifted and another figure appeared above him, enveloped by the rising sun.

“Please wake up, my love,” said the angel. “Please, Aramis.”

A smile spread across his lips. “I never believed I deserved heaven.” He lifted a hand to your face. “But I must be there.”

You took his hand in yours and, forgetting the battle around you, crashed your lips into his. All sound dropped away. Everything seemed still. All vanished except for you, Aramis, and the rays of the sun.

“You’re alive, Aramis,” you breathed against his lips. You pulled back, running your still-gloved fingers through his hair. “I’m alive.”

Aramis stared up at you, his fingers still grazing your cheek, not believing that it was truly your flesh that he felt. Then, the shock passed, and joyous tears took its place.

But your reunion was short-lived, for the body beside you stirred and you felt the sharpness of a blade slide across your arm. You held up a hand to defend yourself and another latched onto it with crushing strength. You cried out, feeling your bones whine in his iron grasp.

“Impossible!” Visage shrieked, eyes blazing. He lunged at you, but Aramis rolled on top of you, shielding you with his body and dodging Visage’s strike.

The battle around you continued. Porthos, now freed, tried to keep his focus on his opponent, though his gaze kept slipping over to you. After a moment of surprise, a victorious smile spread across his face and he fought with new vigor, a strong battle cry roaring through the trees. Athos and D’Artagnan were keeping Visage’s men at bay while their leader stumbled to his feet.

“You have crawled up from Hell,” he spat. Blood dripped down his chin and seeped from the wound in his chest. “I killed you. I watched you die on this very spot. Demon. That’s what you are.”

“If I am anything, it is a phantom of your own making, Visage.” You stepped towards him. Aramis tried to keep you behind him, but you gave him a reassuring nod.

Visage couldn’t hurt you now.

“It isn’t possible.” He stumbled. He held Aramis’s confiscated sword in his hand and raised it. “You are mine. Your life belonged to me. Your death is my right.”

He moved, hands trembling weakly.

You were faster. Your sword plunged into his heart, eliciting a final gasp from his lips. He leaned forward, sinking further onto your blade. You glared at the instigator of all of your pain, the master behind your nightmares, and knew that you had one.

“I belong to no one.”

You drew your weapon out of his chest swiftly and watched his body fall to the ground where he believed he had killed you.

How’s that for poetic?

You let your sword fall to your feet, blood-spattered metal glistening amongst the leaves. Something inside you burst and the emotion behind it drowned you. Relief and fear, anger and shame, love and hatred, all combined to fuel the tears that flowed freely down your face. More than ever, looking at the body of the man who made you into a killer, you knew that you were broken.

The rest of the battle subsided- the head of the snake was severed. Visage’s men surrendered to the musketeers and Porthos and D’Artagnan gathered them into the cart to take them back to be tried for the attempted murder of several of the king’s men, as well as a close friend of Queen Anne. Visage would pay for his crimes, even after death.

You collected yourself and removed your gloves. The bruised and scabbed state of your hands still appalled you, a symbol of everything that had been shattered inside you. You threw your gloves onto Visage’s chest, now forever still.

“It’s real,” Aramis said, voice soft and breaking. “You’re here.”

You crossed your arms, hiding your hands as best you could. Fear kept you from turning around. The joy of seeing him had once again been replaced by the terror that kept you from revealing yourself sooner. You lifted your eyes and met the cool blue of your traveling companion the past few days. Porthos and D’Artagnan stood beside him.

Athos saw your fear and opened his mouth to speak only to close it again. Instead, he just nodded. It gave you enough strength to face what you were truly afraid of.

But you didn’t even have the chance to turn all the way before you were taken up into Aramis’s arms, strong and yet shaking with emotion.

“I had wanted him to kill me,” Aramis breathed against your hair. “I did not want to walk in a world that you had been taken from. I thought I’d lost you. I thought…” He pulled away, smiling brightly through his tears.

“I may not be the woman you loved anymore,” you cried, broken hands gripping the leather of his coat. “I’m afraid he has damaged me beyond repair. He has taken everything from me and he almost took you.”

In the clarity after the chaos, he could see the welts and bruises, the forming scars and cruelly made marks on your skin. Aramis gently ran his finger over the bruise on your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“Tu seras toujours mon paradis,” he whispered. Aramis kissed the bruise, then the cut on your lip, then the gash across your brow. “Not even God can change that.” He pulled you closer. “I have been granted the miracle of holding you again, my love.” He kissed your lips, a reaffirming action that filled you both with warmth. “And I don’t intend to take it for granted."

“Aramis,” you sighed, letting yourself melt into him.

The three others joined you. As soon as you left Aramis’s embrace, you were pulled into Porthos’s.

“I knew it’d take more than a bullet to stop ya,” he cheered, nearly lifting you off the ground.

Aramis put a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, but she’s still injured, so be careful.”

“It’s alright.” You hugged the strong musketeer back. “I missed you too, Porthos.”

Utter happiness and relief surrounded you, lightening your spirits and lifting your heart. Aramis kept an arm around your waist, your closeness helping him convince himself this was real.

“We should go,” Athos said. “Captain Treville will want to hear a report and I’m sure the queen will be relieved to know her favorite artist is alive and well.”

The musketeers nodded. It was decided that another team of men would come out and dig proper graves for Visage and his fallen soldiers. D’Artagnan gathered the horses while Porthos manned the cart.

“Alright, you lot!” He boomed. “Anyone tries anything and you’ll be joining your master in Hell!”

Needless to say, the men obeyed.

You remained behind doubt and worry returning. Aramis stayed with you, brows furrowed with concern.

“What is it, darling?” He asked.

You stared down at your hands. They were shaking again. “My hands. I don’t know if I’ll ever paint again.” Your eyes fell to Visage once more. “Another thing he took from me.”

Aramis stepped around you, blocking your view of the body and bringing your hands to his lips, kissing them gently as he had your other wounds.

“These hands saved my life,” he said. “I’m sure they will endure, just as you have.”

Keeping your hands in his, the two of you walked together, leading you back home.

One Year Later

“Would all of you just please hold still!” You giggled, peeking up over your canvas.

“Aren’t you nearly finished?” D’Artagnan whined. “It’s been hours.”

“Yeah, my limbs are all seizing up,” Porthos added.

Aramis rolled his eyes. “Great art takes time, my friends. Let her work.” He met your gaze and winked.

The four of them stood together, noble and daring in their uniforms, but lacking the stiff detachment that many soldier’s portraits often had. They loved each other and you tried to capture that with every stroke. D’Artagnan was right. The painting had actually been done for the past ten minutes, but you enjoyed teasing them.

All four pairs of eyes snapped to the door and they fell into a bow.

Your brush fell to your side with a huff. “Boys, I told you not to-”

“How is it coming?” The queen’s voice sounded from behind you.

You whirled around and curtseyed, face reddening. “It’s just about complete, Your Majesty.”

Anne appeared beside you, admiring your work over your shoulder. Her smile brightened with awe.

“It’s beautiful,” she praised, laying an affectionate hand on your arm. “It’ll make a wonderful wedding present.”

Aramis beamed from across the room.

Porthos held up a hand. “Speaking of which.” An excited grin spread across his and D’Artagnan’s faces. The two broke away from the others and hurried to the large table in the corner.

“I told you not to move,” you said.

“This’ll only take a second.” Athos followed them and Aramis walked to you.

“They wouldn’t tell me either,” your fiance smirked. He stood on his toes, trying to peek over the top to see the painting. You swatted at his nose with your brush.

“You will see it when it’s finished.”

“It is finished,” the queen laughed. “It is perfect.” She motioned for Aramis to come around the easel.

“Well, now you’ve ruined my fun.” You gave Anne a mock pout.

Aramis wrapped an arm around your waist and gazed at your work with loving admiration.

The painting depicted the four musketeers grouped together like brothers. In front of them, you had painted a rendition of yourself working at the canvas, painting the same image. That, of course, had been his plan. While you had just wanted a normal portrait of him and his companions, he had insisted that you include yourself, somehow.

“You’re facing away.” He noted.

“Well, I can’t very well paint my own face while I’m looking at all of yours, hm?”

He nuzzled your cheek. “I suppose I’ll just have to commission an artist’s self-portrait so you can see how lovely you are, hm?”

“We’ll see.”

It had taken a long time for you to allow yourself to look in the mirror. The idea of painting a reflection of your face was not something you had in mind quite yet.

The three others returned, holding a box and a scroll.

“You’ll have plenty of time to work on it here,” Anne smiled.

Athos held out the box while the other two unrolled the scroll. It was a blueprint. A blueprint for an artist’s studio and a home to match.

Aramis’s jaw fell and you turned to the queen.

“What is this?”

“Consider it a wedding present of my own to the both of you.”

Porthos cleared his throat.

“Our present,” Anne corrected. “It was these noble gentlemen’s idea. I merely funded it.”

“Which was greatly appreciated, Your Majesty,” Athos said. He bowed again, the others following suit.

“I don’t know how to ever repay you,” Aramis said. “Any of you.” He pulled you fully into his arms. His miracle. His world. “Thank you.”

“After everything the two of you went through, it is the least I can do to contribute to your future happiness.” Anne retrieved a quill from your station and handed it to you. “It shall be a great house and a great house needs a name.”

Aramis chuckled. “I am no nobleman, Your Majesty.”

“You are all more deserving than any nobleman I’ve ever met,” she argued. “Believe me, this is more than deserved.” She leaned to you. “Besides, it’s fun.”

You looked to your fiance and to his friends- your friends- and beamed. You took the quill in your hand, now bearing a simple and perfect ring promising you to the man you loved. Aramis smiled and kissed your cheek, standing behind you as you signed your future home’s title.

Heaven.

#aramis #aramis x reader #the musketeers #bbc the musketeers #porthos #athos #d'artagnan #anne of austria #the musketeers imagines #santiago cabrera

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always-outlander · 1 year

Text

Outlander 7x04 Spoilers & Easter Eggs “A Most Uncomfortable Woman”

Lallybroch

Jemmy is older! New actors and actresses have arrived and two years have passed. They are fixing up Lallybroch and restoring the inside. My question is how are they affording all this?

The preview at the end of the opening credits shows a desk which is very important for the Bree and Roger storyline.

Jamie and Claire on the road

Why are these two SO CUTE?! These two have done a wonderful job conveying elements of their younger selves. Ian is worried about Arch Bug following him around and it is beginning to haunt him.

William!

William and his cousin are in Wilmington discussing the excitement of the looming war and their eagerness to partake. William has been assigned to a post in New York. We get a horrific fire ship scene from the books which in all honesty made me cry in the books. It’s just as horrific in the show but thankfully they made it less gruesome visually than described. This is the first scene where Williams honor is in display and he does the right thing.

Captain Richardson assigns William as a messenger through to great Dismal Swamp/Town. The names he’s instructed to deliver the notes to are Samuel Cartwright, Henry Carver, Joshua Harrington. In the books, he’s also given the name Washington (!!!). After that assignment he is to travel to New York to meet with the rest of the men. Book readers know that he has a bit of an adventure and detour before that happens, however.

While in the forest Williams horse is spooked by a snake and he falls and is injured by a stick through his arm. In the books this poor guy is constantly lost, constantly being heckled, constantly complaining. He wanders through the woods for days before he is uncovered by Ian and Rollo. The scene between Ian and William was one of my favorites of this episode, and Young Ian is easily one of my favorite characters.

While they switched up some minor details, the shows version of this encounter is still very insightful into Ian’s time with the Mohawk, and William asks him questions about the Mohawk’s thoughts on showing fear or distress. He himself is trying to be brave while injured and Ian tells him of the death song. when thinking about what he would sing, William calls himself by his full name, then at one point says ‘William James’ and you can tell Ian is having very complicated feelings about it. William James was the name Jamie had given to him as a child in Helwater, his secret papist name. I loved this detail in both the show and books. Jamie is still having an impact on him, even without him realizing it.

Book on Time Travel

Roger is writing a book on time travel for Jemmy and Mandy, documenting all they know about it. He discovers that the musket ball is gold and mull over asking Jemmy about it. Jemmy claims pixies took a clock apart and Roger and Bree know he’s lying.

Bree is interviewing for her new job at the Hydro plant with a very frustrating man who completely underestimates her abilities. This was actually a great scene for her to show off her brains. I think most people have forgotten just how smart Bree is. She gets the job but comes home to a distraught Roger who feels like he’s failing to support their family in the traditional ways. Their experience going back in time has shaken his beliefs of God, and he has felt like he is breaking his promise to Jamie and Claire to provide for her and their kids.

Jemmy continues to behave strangely and tells Roger and Bree there’s a nuckelavee in their yard. They have a discussion about his powers and his believe in magic and how to foster that while still keeping it a secret.

Wilmington

Cornelius Harnet reappears and is tied back into the war by a blackmail. He conscripts Jamie to go to Fort Ticonderoga in New York. I love the scene we get from the season preview where Jamie states that he wants to fight for his family and because he couldn’t ask for anyone else to fight in his place. Claire can provide him with the confidence that this is a war they will win.

I think Sam has been outstanding this season. He has done a great job of subtlety in his acting. Ian wants to fight for the land too, and be a part of the change for the Indians. Claire promises she will go with Jamie and provide her medical expertise.

When in Wilmington Tom plants a mighty kiss on Claire which shocks her to near silence. Tom acknowledges the fire and that her and Jamie are not dead as he believed. He admits to placing the obituary in the papers as he could not leave flowers on her grave. He calls Claire A Most Uncomfortable Woman and admits he has only loved two woman, his wife and Claire. The loving of her has led him to his salvation, but the loving of her will bring him no peace while she lives. He absolutely knocked this scene out of the park.

Tom asks if Jamie knows about his feelings towards Claire, and Claire has a very awkward conversation about his love towards her. Tom tells her how he escaped with his mind and literacy, and was employed as a secretary thanks to his ability to write. Tom also heard that Allan had left the Ridge but Claire omits to tell him the truth of that matter.

Jamie & Claire

I have to crack up over Jamie and Claire discussing the kiss and Tom’s love for her. This scene was great at providing a moment for them to reconnect, while also adding some humor. The moment between them in the window was adorable. They also touch upon her hair turning white, coming into her full power one day, and have so many call backs to previous seasons. I loved them bantering over her sticking her with needles and the two of them having jealousy over others. There’s also a mention of Laoghaire, whom we know we will see again later this season when Jamie and Claire make it to Scotland.

The Hunters

We finally set eyes on Denzel and Rachel Hunter, who Ian delivers William to and they attempt to save Williams arm. William stating he’d rather die than amputate his arm was a parallel to Jamie wanting to die rather than remove his leg. They do not have to amputate but William ends up passing out at the idea of it.

Ian and Rachel have their first scene together and I can immediately see how she’s interested in learning more about Ian. They have chemistry which was very important. He asks Rachel to give William some money and keep the rosary beads.

Likewise you can immediately tell that William has a crush on Rachel. He attempts very much to flirt with her and Rachel for her part does entertain it. William has healed and Rachel tells William that Denny is choosing the side of Independence. They have essentially lost their place in their family and will now ride to Fort Ticonderoga on suggestion of a Samuel Cartwright whom William Carrie’s a letter for. William intends to go with them and we end the episode with Jamie and Claire’s arrival to Fort Ticonderoga. In the books this took them months to get to, so once again the storyline is being condensed greatly. In one episode they went from Wilmington to New York.

Preview of Episode 5

Jamie becomes more involved in the fight (very reminiscent of him at the table informing Charles Stuart before Colloden). A preview of the fort when it comes under attack. We got a snippet of Ian when he returns and sees Rachel again, and in the future, Bree begins her job at the plant.

Final Thoughts

The beginning of this episode I’m finding that the editing is at times clunky, and once again the speed in which we go through these scenes feels like they are just checking them off for the sake of it. For jamie and Claire to begin this episode in Wilmington and end it in New York is incredibly fast. Bree and Roger have aged up children, so that’s a large expanse of time the viewer has to adjust to. It’s a necessary evil of course (the books truly go on forever), but definitely something I notice each new episode that passes.

I love Charles’s take on William thus far, he’s far more likable than book William, and once again… JOHN BELL! He’s the stand out for me.

#outlander #outlanderedit #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #sam heughan #claire x jamie #jammf #caitriona balfe #james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser #outlander spoilers #outlander parallels #outlander season 7 #outlander 7x04 #outlander ep: a most uncomfortable woman

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