#crystal needed to escape from her life and did it in the most insane and unpredictable way possible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

magical-girl-coral · 5 years ago

Text

et any more than ten notes, but fuck it, here are the reasons why Entrapta should have been kidnapped instead of Catra :

Catra's redemption would have felt more well earned - if Catra was trying to find a way to help Glimmer and Entrapta, then her change would seem more legitimate. She already showed signs of guilt through her nightmares of what she did to Entrapta. Instead of falling to her old ways like in Prime's ship, she would most likely go through a complete 180 and almost kill herself while trying to prove her worth. Imagine Catra trying to befriend Emily and Imp so they could find a way to save Entrapta, putting aside her past grievances with them so they could signal Entrapta on Prime's ship. Maybe Imp was the one collecting robot bits, so they could give it to Entrapta once they find her. Maybe Emily showed one of Entrapta's old recordings before she was sent to Beast Island for the sake of filling the empty space she left. The possibilities are endless.

Making the princesses look more justified in their anger - The princesses' ableism was handled terribly. There is no way around this. Neurotypicals obviously wrote episode two, and it shows*. However, once you replace Entrapta with Catra, their anger, hostility, and Scorpia's timidness make way more sense. Mermista's rage especially makes the most sense since Saelinas was the kingdom was fell first thanks to Catra and Hordak. Instead of making all of our favorite characters, ableist assholes, this plotline makes them more human. The power of friendship can only run so far, after all, and every single princess is allowed to have a breaking point in trust.

It would showcase Entrapta's real priorities - For most of the show, both fans and characters see Entrapta as someone who would never care about anything other than tech. Now, if that were true, then Entrapta would have no problem joining Prime's side. But that's not what would happen. Instead, Entrapta would unleash hell on Prime's ship without Prime even noticing. Sending signals to Etheria and new tech designs, helping Glimmer escape and sending her back to the Best Friends Squad, all while showing zero hesitation. Entrapta loves tech unconditionally until it starts to mess with her friends.

It could show ableism correctly through Prime with how he would treat Entrapta - This is my scenario of how Entrapta ends up on Prime's ship (please tell me if you have anything better): Prime, after looking into Hordak's memories, sees a young and brilliant scientist. Prime decided to show her his ship, trying to seduce Entrapta into improving his tech while convincing her that a 'defective, retarded, emotionless' Etherian like her could never truly be great, so she might as well give up now. He would touch without her consent and shame her for turning his "affection" away. Instead of falling to his manipulations, Entrapta realizes that he is afraid of her. She's biologically different then most Etherians, and Prime doesn't know how to control her. That gives her the final push of courage she needed to have to go behind Prime's back and rescue Glimmer. By making Prime ableist instead of the princesses, the show tells us how ableist is bad and disables people deserve more respect (I know that most of the show's fans are above fifteen, but with how the fandom has been acting, they deserve to be taught like children).

It would give a parallel 'be careful what you wish for' between Entrapta and Catra - At the start of the series, all Entrapta wanted was to see more advanced tech, and all Catra wanted was to see Etheria conquered. They both got exactly what they wanted, and their lives couldn't be worse.

A chipped Entrapta breaking free from the hive mind because of her autism would be awesome - That's it. That's the pro. I'm incredibly desperate for more good autism rep, and this would be amazing.

Catra and Adora bonding while in space would be excellent for both characters - As much as I love the angst from chipped Catra, it feels more like fanservice now. At the end of the day, it felt like Catra and Adora didn't bond enough to have a solid devolvement in their relationship. This could change if they went to space together with Bow. Instead of spending just half of the last season together, they spend the next eleven episodes bonding in the insanity of their situation. It would also allow more time for Catra to understand Adora's abuse under Shadow Weaver. By forcing those two into a close space in the middle of nowhere, they would have no choice but to confront the other about their issues. And speaking of much-needed bonding time.

Glimmer would get a chance to face Catra about Angella's death - If there is one thing I will never forgive season five for, is forgetting Angella's death. It was Glimmer's main motivation to take more action against the Horde, it was what almost drove Micah to despair, and it was the final nail in the coffin for Adora, making her stop taking the blame for everything and take Catra's threat to the world more seriously. But then season five happened and they just... forgot about her? She was never mentioned again because if she were mentioned, Catra would look bad, and Glimmer would have a reason to hate her. But if Glimmer were to meet Catra again outside of Prime's ship, with all the trauma she went through there, she would definitely take out on Catra (kind of like how Katara took out her anger on Zuko after he joined the gang).

Hordak would join the Best Friend Squad early after they save Entrapta and would get more devolvement as a result- If you think for one second that Hordak won't abandon Prime after what he did to Entrapta, then you haven't been watching the same show. I don't know how he joins the BFS. Maybe Catra tried to find him to fix her mistakes**, maybe he finds them by accident and remembers some of the past events as a result, or maybe he was one of the clones that witnessed chipped Entrapta and got a wake-up call. Either way, he wouldn't sit back and watch Prime continue to ruin his only friend's life. This would give him more screen time to show his backstory more clearly, give more sympathy for the clones along with a better redemption arc. And finally, the most crucial point.

Catra's growth would be more consensual - Most of Catra's maturity seemed to be out of her control. She helped Glimmer because she felt like no one wants her anymore. She had her hair cut because Prime wanted her to look more tamed. She was buddy-buddy with Glimmer and Bow because the plot says so. Nothing that happened this season seemed to be with Catra's consent, which made me feel extremely uncomfortable. Instead of watching Catra go through glorified torture porn, imagine her changing from her own free will. She cuts her because her hair reminds her of how Shadow Weaver's hair looked wild when she was angry. She changes clothes because she didn't want to wear her crown anymore. She goes to space with Bow and Adora because she wants to do good with her life, and is tired of being the mean old bully she was never meant to be. Doesn't this seem more satisfying?

*here, here, here, here and here are some metas about why Entrapta’s treatment was written terribly. I’m too tired to explain myself, and these posts tell the show’s problems better then I could

** I really like the idea of Catra finding the Luvd crystal and returning it to Hordak as a way apologize for how she has separated them. It would also be a cool parallel to all the times she took the crystal out of Hordak’s suit.

Edit: holy shit, there were so many typos here. Why didn’t any of you guys tell me?

Double edit: soooooo... I may or may have not written a fic...that you can read here...please support me, my brain is begging for more serotonin.

#She Ra and the Princesses of Power #she ra #SPoP #Adora #Catra #Catradora #Hordak #Entrapta #EntrapDak #Scorpia #Mermista #Perfuma #Glimmer #Bow

458 notes · View notes

mari-beau · 4 years ago

Text

GIVE ME A REASON: PART FOUR - A Rogue One Fanfic

So this part/scene got a little out of control. Ironically, since I only had the base idea of when it would take place until I started writing it. You can also find/read this story on AO3 now.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Four

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some sappiness?

Words: 2,978

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

...

“Ms. Erso, it is time for you to vacate the infirmary.”

Jyn jerked, jarred from sleep and reaching for the knife she no longer had on her person. Her situation settled back around her surfacing consciousness, calming her immediate fight-or-flight response but keeping her on edge.

“No,” she told the medical orderly droid. “I already told the doctors, medical staff and you lot that I’m not leaving Captain Andor. I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

“Yes. You were most clear regarding your intransigence, Ms. Erso.”

Droids had the worst attitudes. Shouldn’t med ones be programmed with a better bedside manner?

“But the bed is needed,” the droid went on when she just wanted it to go away so she could wallow in the overwhelming mix of emotions drowning her; loss, guilt, relief. “There are numerous incoming casualties from a skirmish in the Za’dan sector.”

Jyn scowled, but didn’t budge.

“What difference does it make if I leave? It’s not like I’m taking up an extra bed.” As if to prove her point, she shifted closer to Cassian in the infirmary cot, making her already petite body take up even less room.

“Captain Andor is to be processed for discharge. So you will keep your superfluous vow that he won’t wake up alone. Even though he wouldn’t be alone anyway. There are medical staff and med-droids present.”

Jyn was too alarmed by the droid’s revelation to mind the griping typical to its type.

“You’re discharging him?!” Jyn shifted, pushing herself up to study the unconscious man.

How well she knew every bruise and injury visible and many hidden by the white medical tunic and pants. She’d passed out herself from exhaustion as they began treating her injuries, but as soon as she’d woken up, she’d bullied, threatened and pleaded until they brought her to Cassian, making her wait outside the operating room, only able to watch as they finished the surgeries and treatments. They’d let her curl up in a chair next to the Bacta tank they’d stuck him in afterward, and no one even questioned by the time he was relocated to an infirmary bed when she climbed in beside him.

She’d seen the bandages, bruises, burns and scars. And she knew how they’d changed as the hours, the days had passed. Barely days, just three days since Scarif. Were they insane? They were just going to turn him out, in his condition?

Apparently, they were.

The med-droid was already injecting him with something, and Cassian was rousing. Jyn’s heart beat faster and she practically held her breath, on her knees on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with anticipatory anxiety, clutching at her kyber crystal with one hand. His past few hours of sleep had been strained. He’d been unconscious but also tense, in pain. She’d felt it in the rigidity of his muscles, the periodic hitches in his breathing.

“Did you give him more meds for the pain, too?” she asked the droid. How could they ask him to get back on his feet when he was in so much pain just lying still?

“Yes. And the stimulant should keep him awake until he gets settled back into his quarters.”

Jyn sagged in relief slightly until Cassian came crashing back into reality with a gasp and a jerk, and bewildered, began to thrash. She threw herself on top of him, placing her hands on his shoulders to hold him down, hoping he wouldn’t hurt himself worse, but understanding how confused and frightened he must feel.

“Cassian, It’s Jyn.” As if that would make a difference to him, if he even remembered her upon waking from a days-long practically-a-coma, someone he’d only met far less than a week ago and since had suffered devastating traumas. “You’re safe. You’re on the rebel base on Yavin 4. In the infirmary.”

Almost instantly, he went still, calmed, like a switch had been thrown. But she supposed the man did have quick reflexes, was highly adaptable to various situations. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have made it so long as a rebel spy.

“Jyn?” His eyes found her face. They were a little glassy and unfocused but were still, well, captivating, dark, intelligent and expressive. “What happened?”

“We did it.” She shifted back to kneeling beside him, gave him a smile, a genuine one albeit bittersweet. They had succeeded in their mission, but at a tremendous cost. “The plans to the Death Star were received by the fleet.”

“Are they planning an attack?” Cassian pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing and inhaling sharply, making Jyn picture the freshly healed surgical incisions that were doubtless strained by the movement.

“I…” Jyn had never thought to ask. The moment she realized they weren’t going to die on that beach, making sure Cassian survived had become her only concern. “I don’t know.”

“I should report to Command.” Cassian moved to get out of the infirmary bed, but Jyn stopped him, grabbing his arm to hold him back. She shimmied across the bed and hopped off it to stand in front of him.

“If they needed any more information or intel, they would’ve asked me.” It sounded plausible, even though if they’d tried it, she couldn’t rightly say she would’ve cooperated (they hadn’t listened to her the last time she tried to convince them of the truth), but especially if it meant leaving Cassian’s side. Even for a moment. How had someone else become her primary, her only concern, that she now cared only for his welfare? “And you’re not in any shape to help. Give yourself a little more time to heal.”

She reached for him as he was already trying to stand, stiffening and wobbling for a moment when he was fully upright. But Jyn would support him without him needing to ask, slid her arms around his waist and tucked her shoulder under one of his arms. He leaned into her, likely without even realizing it. From what Jyn could tell, Cassian was an independent sort of person, like herself, but unlike herself, was not too proud to accept help, being more of a team player than she ever had been.

His fingers went to pinch the bridge of his nose and his eyes squeezed shut. He took a long, deep breath, swaying a little.

“How far are your quarters from the infirmary?” she asked.

He sighed. That close, was it?

“Can you make it? If I help you?” Jyn looked around, but the droid had already stripped the bed and skittered off. She would go find whatever he needed for assistance because maybe he was a little proud, too, and had sacrificed a good portion of his independence by leaning on her. She waited, letting him decide, despite her wanting to wrap him up in soft warm blankets in a fluffy bed of pillows and keep him safe.

“Let’s try it. I should probably find out how bad the damage is sooner than later.” His expression had gone tight and unreadable, and her heart broke to think of the justified fear he must be feeling, that he may have suffered permanent damage that could affect the rest of his life, that might take away his purpose of serving the rebellion.

“They healed the blaster wound easily, but you’ve got an impressive scar,” she said as he took a tentative step, using her like a crutch, not questioning why or how she knew his wounds and medical diagnosis and treatments. “The fractures in your vertebrae and ribs probably haven’t completely knitted yet but the prognosis is good.”

Well, this wasn’t so bad. His weight was a burden making her own steps difficult, but Jyn didn’t begrudge it, not when it meant he was alive, and on his feet even. And they were already at the infirmary door. The medical staff hadn’t given them even a second look, but Jyn steeled herself for the possibility of stares as they entered the rest of the base. She couldn’t care less but these were Cassian’s fellow soldiers and he deserved their respect and not pity.

“They replaced your hip and part of your femur,” she said when they entered the hallway.

“Is that why it feels like I’ve been sliced open from my ribs down to my knee?”

“They sealed you back up.”

A light chuckle escaped him. “Things could be worse, then.”

They could, they really could. If Jyn were to make comparisons, it wasn’t just the fact that they hadn’t died on Scarif like it seemed they should’ve, but this situation she found herself in, saddled with a wounded spy (by her own choosing), on a rebel base, a Death Star out there somewhere in the galaxy… It was still the best place she’d been in since… Since she was abandoned by Saw at 16? Since her mother had died and her father had been taken?

Part of her that enjoyed the warmth of Cassian’s body beside hers, the feel of his wiry flank beneath her hand, the smell of his skin, even the weight of him he placed on her shoulders, that part proposed that this was the best situation, the best time in her entire life.

How pathetic did that make her?

She enjoyed dragging a severely wounded man around some giant old ruins half-reclaimed by the jungle converted to a military base… sort of base… The Alliance was so loosely confederated, everything seemed slapped together and piecemeal.

But hopefully the medical facilities had been up to par… They had seemed nicer than anything Jyn had ever experienced. But that wasn’t saying much at all.

“You need a minute?” she asked, finally realizing Cassian’s steps and breathing had become labored. She maneuvered him towards a wall and leaned up against it with him, nodding to a passing rebel soldier of indeterminable rank and unnotable appearance.

“Maybe it would’ve been better if you’d left me on Scarif,” he said, his voice low, quiet and pained as he almost-panted, sagging against the ancient stone wall.

“No,” she said. “You don’t mean that.”

“I was ready to die.”

She didn’t want to hear this. The meds and the strain were making him say things. She told him as much.

He shook his head.

“Listen to me, Jyn.”

What could she do? What could she say? That she didn’t want to hear how he valued his life so little, that he’d throw it away just for the slim chance of providing an opportunity for the rebellion to destroy some Imperial weapon, a terrifying one, but one weapon of many. She-

“I felt peace. For the first time in my life, probably.” His voice had gotten even lower and quieter, almost a whisper, wistful even. Jyn didn’t dare look at him, had to concentrate on breathing normally when she felt his fingers slip into her hand. It was easier to consider her unsolicited affection for the man when he was giving no indication of whether or not he returned it. “And I think it was because you were there. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I didn’t feel alone.”

Oh, Force. He was getting delirious, saying things that, from what she knew of him, he would never share even if he did feel them.

“Come on, let’s get you back to your own bed.”

He didn’t say anything else as they traversed several more halls, and Jyn wondered if she’d hurt his feelings by not responding to his raw, quiet confession. But he continued to lean on her without any hesitation and the silence between them felt comfortable. It was strange. He’d made her so tense in the beginning, the way he watched her, how secretive he was, so guarded. But somehow, somewhere along the way, she grew to not only feel comfortable with Cassian Andor, but to trust him as she’d never trusted anyone else before.

And she thought, maybe he trusted her in return. He followed her on a suicide mission, let her support his injured, vulnerable self on Scarif, let her drag him off that cursed planet, and now lead him across the rebel base, passing by people who really amounted to the only family he’d ever had.

There weren’t many, however. And none stopped. Or stared, too much. The med droid must have been right about the incoming survivors of the skirmish, everyone seemed a little rushed and mission-oriented. Or maybe there was more going on…

“Stop. Stop.”

Jyn immediately froze.

“Are you okay?” she asked, shifting beneath Cassian’s weight to try to get a good look at his face. “Do you need a break?”

“We’re home,” Cassian said, his eyelids sliding nearly shut before they shot open again.

“Oh,” Jyn said, ignoring the way something fluttered inside of her over his choice of words. “Which one?”

“Left side of the hall.” He indicated the door directly to their left with a nod of his head. The stimulant must be failing to combat the pain meds, and his body’s need to rest, to heal. Because he was getting heavier and more slack in her arms.

They staggered over to the door to his quarters and he was at least coherent enough to punch his code into the lock. His room was by no means large, barely larger than Jyn’s cell on Wobani. But at least he didn’t have a cellmate, er, bunkmate… Well, not officially…

She basically dumped him on the narrow bed, which he didn’t seem to mind at all, making a groaning sound of relief and taking several deep breaths, his legs hanging awkwardly off the side. Not knowing what else to do, she bent to lift his legs and slide them onto the bed, forcing him to lay down in a less uncomfortable position. She pulled the white slip-on infirmary shoes off his feet and tossed them in a corner, feeling only a flash of contrition over sullying the pristine room. It was so austere, even with two of the walls comprised of the old stone of the ancient temple. It could’ve been anyone’s quarters. No. That was wrong. It’s nondescriptness, everything hidden away in the meager storage units, only Cassian would keep his personal space in such a spartan manner.

“Cassian…?”

He mumbled something she took to imply he was listening and not passed out yet.

“Do you have extra bedding? A blanket or something?” She could do without. She had, many times. But it would be a little bit better than sleeping on the bare hard stone floor.

“No… Jungle moon… Already too hot… Why?”

“I was going to sleep here, if you don’t mind,” Jyn said. Why was this an awkward conversation to have? Why was she so afraid he’d say no, send her away? “On the floor.”

His eyes opened and that furrow formed between his brows as he studied her with a gaze that seemed to be having trouble focusing. But then he was scooching over until he was almost touching the wall.

“I think this is a nanometer larger than the infirmary cot,” he said. “What do you think?”

Jyn tried not to smile as she kicked off her own flimsy infirmary shoes and climbed onto Cassian’s bed to stretch out beside him. Something inside her sighed, content. She didn’t let it out.

“I don’t know…” she said. “But I guess if they made the infirmary beds nicer than the barracks, they’d have sick rebels all the time.”

A chuckle escaped through his nose.

“I don’t think they usually offer an ángel as a companion, either.”

“What?” Jyn shifted onto her side to study his face. His eyes were closed and he seemed content. The pain meds must be working.

“My mother was a believer in an Ancient Festian religion that worshipped a creator god. I don’t remember very many specifics...” Jyn didn’t dare breathe out, afraid of interrupting the story, softly spoken with hints of nostalgia, sharing a childhood memory, an intimacy she knew Cassian permitted, well, probably no one. “Except, there were these creatures that did the creator’s bidding, guiding people, aiding them, saving them… Angeles… I don’t know the word in Basic…”

He looked at her, and her apprehension about breaking the spell ebbed. Cassian knew full well who he was talking to, even if the pain meds had loosened his tongue, broken down the rigid walls he kept around his private self.

“I don’t know the word, either,” Jyn said. “I’’ve never heard of such creatures, mythical or otherwise.”

Cassian laughed, a soft little rumble that was accompanied by that rare smile of his that was brighter than a yellow dwarf sun and warmed her just as well. But, “What’s funny about that?”

“You…” His hand found hers, fingers sliding against her palm to curl around hers, engulfing her smaller hand. He shifted to face her, wincing a little, but his expression was soft if serious and . “Jyn, you saved me, guided me, are still coming to my aid… You’re my angelita…”

Oh, shit, he was so tired and drugged up he was becoming incoherent. Hopefully, he wouldn’t remember saying such emotional things- oh.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles, making her swallow a gasp of surprise, and fight the sigh when he held her hand to his chest as he lay back, his eyelids finally losing the battle and sliding shut.

Oh, Cassian…

“Don’t worship me,” she whispered to his sleeping form. “I’m nothing worth venerating.”

Of course, was she behaving any different when it came to him?

They were quite the mess, the two of them.

She wriggled her fingers in his hold until she was able to interlace them with his and feel the warmth of his palm against hers. Jyn closed her eyes, immersing herself in the quiet, safe moment.

#fic: give me a reason #Rogue One #fanfiction #rebelcaptain #cassian x jyn #Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso

16 notes · View notes

ruzek-halstead · 5 years ago

Text

the one that (almost) got away

"my friend dragged me to this party and i just saw my ex - quick, make out with me"

university au

masterlist || ao3

It was a month before finals and Julie's to-do list was piling up. Her music courses were slowly starting to drive her insane (best program in the country my ass) and she had absolutely zero time to even breathe, much less be dragged to a party by her roommate.

The past few months had been filled with lectures, compositions, performances and impromptu Netflix binging sessions. She was already stressed enough with everything happening academically, it didn't help that she found her boyfriend of two years on a romantic dinner with another woman (I mean, his tongue was down her throat, what would you make of that?). It hurt like hell, don't get her wrong, but having him out of her life didn't bother her as much as it probably should have. Luckily, she kept herself distracted with classes, extra-curricular activities and her best friend and roommate, Flynn.

"You're going," Flynn stated with the utmost serious expression. She busied herself with rummaging through her closet to find the perfect outfit for tonight's frat party, while Julie focused on the lyrics splayed out in front of her for composition class. "You've been so focused on school that you haven't had any time to enjoy the night life."

Julie rolled her eyes without sparing a glance at her best friend. "Yes, because I'm in university because of the night life," she sassed, "it has absolutely nothing to do with excelling in the most prestigious music program in the country so I can become famous and fly you places in my private jet."

"Details," Flynn muttered, waving her hand in her direction. "Alex's frat is throwing the party, so it won't be overly crazy."

Flynn and Julie made eye contact and Flynn cringed at the unimpressed look on Julie's face.

"Okay, so maybe I can't control that," she admitted. "But still, Alex says you have to come! You can finally meet some of his friends!"

Julie snorted. "I know his friends. I don't like his friends."

"You know Luke," Flynn countered, "you haven't met Reggie or Alex's boyfriend, Willie! And Luke isn't that bad, I promise; he's super sweet."

"Sweet?" Julie spit, eyes widening in annoyance. "He pushed me into the pool at that last party!"

Flynn cringed, yet again. "Okay, yes," she relented. "But it was more like 'he knocked you' into the pool because he was trying to catch the football. And he did!"

"Excuse me for not caring!"

"Just trust me, okay?" Flynn busted out her puppy dog eyes as she jumped on Julie's bed. "They're great, and we can't discuss this anymore. You need a break and you're going. I don't care if you leave twenty-minutes after you get there; you are making an appearance."

Julie and Flynn engaged in a brief stare down, to which Flynn ended by pushing against Julie's shoulder.

"Fine," Julie reluctantly agreed, "I'll make a brief appearance, and I'll meet Alex's friends. But as soon as Luke says something stupid, I'm leaving. Is that clear?"

Flynn's face broke into an excited grin. "Crystal clear, girl!" She squealed. "Oh my god, put your lyrics away. We have to start getting ready right now!"

Julie entered the frat party with a newfound attitude and a clear mind. Flynn forced her to take two tequila shots before leaving their apartment, so she could forget about her studies, and so far, it was working. She also didn't want to be the only buzzkill at this party, so she promised herself and Flynn that she would actually try to have some fun.

"There you go, there's that smile!" Flynn cheered, nudging Julie in the direction of the drinks. Together they mixed a creative concoction and set out to find Flynn's good friend, Alex.

They found him relatively quickly; he was dominating at the beer pong table. When he saw Flynn and Julie, his face lit up and he tapped a random guy next to him, shouting, "sub in for me, my bestie's here!"

With that, he ran over to Flynn to give her a bone-crushing hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek (he was definitely more than two shots and a cocktail in). "Hey Jules!" He greeted the brunette, wrapping her under his other arm. "Ah, my girls are here. I have to find the guys!"

"Julie's going to love them!" Flynn added, following as Alex pulled them along. He pulled them until they stepped into the backyard where the party was just as lively as inside. "Look, there's Reggie!"

Alex dragged them over to two guys who seemed to be in a heated conversation.

"I can't believe you don't like The Office!" The one with a red flannel shirt tied around his waist exclaimed, throwing his arms up for emphasis. "Michael Scott is the single greatest character ever created."

The other one with his hair tied up in a bun rolled his eyes. "If that's what you think, then you need more help than I can offer."

"Whatever," Red Flannel replied, turning his attention to the newcomers. "Flynn, you're here!" He exclaimed, reaching over to give her a hug. "I'm Reggie!" He told Julie excitedly.

Julie sent him a polite smile. "Hey, nice to meet you. I'm Julie."

"And this," Alex yelled drunkenly, wrapping his arms around the other brunette, "is Willie! He's my boyfriend!"

Willie let out a laugh. "He is so wasted. Nice to meet you, Julie."

Julie sent him a warm smile in response.

Alex turned his attention to Julie. "Julie," he slurred, wrapping an arm around her shoulders again, "is Flynn's best friend and roommate. I've been trying to get her to meet you guys for ages. Wait, where's Luke?"

Julie's shoulders stiffened.

Reggie shrugged. "Who knows."

"I'll go find him," Alex muttered. "Go get another drink, mingle, but you're not allowed to leave until you meet Luke!" He yelled to her as he walked backwards across the room (he was definitely going to trip). "No leaving!"

"Is he forgetting I've already met Luke?" Julie whispered to Flynn, who just shrugged.

Willie hesitantly started after him, turning to say, "I should probably make sure he doesn't do something really stupid."

"And I'm going to go mingle," Julie replied, turning to Flynn who look thoroughly unconvinced.

Flynn pursed her lips. "You better not leave."

"I won't," Julie laughed, "I promise."

With that, they all went their separate ways. Julie stayed outside and watched the beer pong championship for a while, but eventually decided to go back inside because the chill was getting to her. She was also hoping to find Flynn because her 'mingling' was getting boring and she was inching to leave.

She walked back into the building, intent on getting herself a new drink to pass the time. She was about to turn into the kitchen, when she spotted a very familiar face that she hadn't seen in a number of months.

Her ex-boyfriend, Ryan.

And the girl he cheated on her with.

"Oh my god," she muttered, ducking out of the way. She made eye contact solely for a solid millisecond but she knew he saw her. "Fuck."

In her attempt to escape and leave the house party (and the university, if she's being honest), she ran smack into a hard body. "Shit," she heard a deep voice. "Are you okay?"

His hands were wrapped around her upper forearms and she looked up to realize they belonged to her one and only nemesis, Luke Patterson.

"Oh, it's you! Pool girl!"

In any other circumstance, she would probably wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze but she was genuinely too panicked.

"Julie?"

Oh god, Ryan was calling out for her.

"You pushed me into a pool months ago, right?"

Luke's eyebrows narrowed. "Okay, well, it was a little more complicated than that..."

"But you owe me!"

"Uh — sure?"

He looked genuinely confused and regardless of how smart Julie considered herself to be, she was incredibly dumb when it came to men and social situations.

Which is why she uttered, "I'm so sorry, but my ex —" before crashing her lips against his. He seemed to freeze, his hands loosening their grip on her forearms.

Julie quickly doubled back, realizing how stupid of an idea it was. It was Luke, and even though she wasn't particularly a fan of him, she had basically just mauled him without even asking for consent.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," Julie apologized quickly. He was staring at her as if she had three heads. "I'm so sorry. I just saw my ex-boyfriend with the girl he cheated on me with and he was calling my name and I figured, 'oh, why not just make out with someone so he doesn't think I'm a complete —'"

This time, Luke interrupted her with a wicked smirk. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She squeaked in response, but was distracted when he tipped her head back and kissed her. It was soft at first, but he pressed harder against her mouth with an intensity that momentarily took Julie's breath away. His body pressed further against hers, until they rested on the wall behind her.

A moment later, he pulled back and admired her shocked expression.

"How was that?"

His voice was soft and warm and Julie was so stunned, it took her a moment to reply.

But when she did, her recollection and sass came full force.

"Good enough, I guess," she lied through her teeth (it was fucking fantastic). "Your debt is paid, thank you. And stay away from the pool."

With that, she whirled around, dead set on walking away. She was so mind-blown from the kiss, she completely forgot Ryan was still behind her.

"Julie!"

"Shit."

She didn't realize she said it out loud until Ryan's eyebrows furrowed.

"Babe! Wait for me!" The obnoxious voice of Luke Patterson rang through her ears before she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders and hang off her neck. "I'm Luke, Julie's boyfriend. Who are you?"

Julie cringed. She wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Right now.

"I'm Ryan," he answered apprehensively; his new girlfriend was nowhere to be found. "Nice to meet you."

"Is it, though?" Luke replied and Julie's eyes widened. She whipped her head to glare at him, but he was too focused on Ryan. He was wearing a playful smirk but the look in his eyes was everything but playful. "You're the one who cheated on my girl, isn't that right?"

Ryan's face went pale. "I should probably go... Nice to see you, Julie."

"Yeah, you probably should go! Wouldn't want my fist accidentally connecting with your nose!"

Julie's eyes widened and she angrily pushed Luke away from her. "Oh my god, what is wrong with you?"

"I was defending you," he explained like it was obvious, "you're welcome, by the way. Or maybe I should be thanking you," he winked.

Julie never wanted to die as much as she did in that moment.

"Oh my god," she muttered, utterly mortified. "Do you even hear yourself?"

Luke smiled cheekily. "Yeah, I do. And that was," he made the chef's kiss motion. He actually made the chef's kiss motion; Julie wanted to throw up. "Do you think we could continue that? Maybe go out to dinner or something?"

Julie blinked.

"This may shock you, but not everyone here likes you," she replied after a moment. God, this whole situation was getting so far away from her.

Luke smirked. "Sounds ridiculous, but go on."

"You pushed me into a pool, I don't need to like you! And I appreciate you helping me out with my ex, but that was all! This ends here!"

Luke's eyes softened, but there was still a wild gleam in them.

"No."

"No?" Julie spluttered. "What do you mean no?"

Luke shrugged. "You can deny it all you want, but our kiss was definitely something. And I may have my moments, but I'm not dumb enough to let something like that go."

Julie found herself stunned once again.

"What the hell is going on right now?"

"And yeah, I probably could be more charming," he admitted. "And I really am sorry about the pool thing. That wasn't supposed to happen like that!"

Julie looked around for Flynn or Alex or literally everyone who could save her.

"So, what do you say? Dinner on Friday?"

Julie barked out a laugh, but she had to admit, he looked adorably optimistic. She took a moment to admire his appearance and obviously he was ridiculously attractive but — she really had no reason to object.

"Are you out of your mind? I hardly know you!"

"That's the point of a date, Julie. Keep up," he teased, his hazel eyes sparkling.

Julie was genuinely starting to feel faint. This was too much action for one day.

"Slow your roll, Casanova."

Luke's eyebrows rose in amusement. "Want me to slow it down? Even though you just had your tongue down my throat?" Julie squeaked in indignation and Luke chuckled. "Shit, I'm really bad at this whole charming thing apparently. Can I start by getting your number?"

"I honestly don't understand what's happening right now. So, I'll give you my number, but you have to work your ass off for that date."

Luke nodded, biting his lip to hold back a smile. "Yeah, that sounds fair.”

“Oh, look!” Both of their head swivelled around to see Alex, stumbling drunkenly in their direction with Flynn by his side. “Julie met Luke!”

“Dude, they’ve already met. How drunk are you?”

“Wait, why does Luke have lipstick all over his face?”

110 notes · View notes

perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years ago

Text

Empires on the Horizon XVII

Jason is a CEO: Part XVII

masterlist; my links

we are not big grand gestures,

we are little moments

—strung together

on a polaroid wall—

instances that freeze

in time;

timeless anyway

—badpoetry

[image has alt text]

Helping his friends had never been a difficult choice. Even now, three days into what was supposed to be a relaxing holiday, he didn’t feel anything but the overwhelming urge to “sort it out”. Despite the fact that he hadn’t taken more than a day to himself in three years; despite the fact that he was halfway across the world from his home and the people he loved; despite the fact that it was his ex girlfriend who asked for help; despite, despite, despite, that he had woken up this morning with a man who looked like a god and smelt like cool forests and laughed like he was born with an instrument in his throat, wrapped around him. They were all arms and legs and skin. So much glorious, glowing skin. Brown, golden, freckled, smooth, soft, calloused.

And still all Jason Grace could think was, “I need to help her.”

“Percy,” He whispered, “Angel.” How could he disturb such a creature of peace. It seemed almost immoral.

Long black lashes blinked and fluttered, before blurry green eyes trailed the room lazily landing on him. “Well, if it isn’t a good morning indeed.” His gaze travelled the length of their bodies, drinking in the entanglement of their limbs. That voice was made from rolling hills and crunching gravel.

He couldn’t help the smile that fell to his lips as he watched his friend stare at their bodies. “Pretty isn’t it?”

“Ethereal.”

“I have to get up.”

The pout that greeted him almost crumpled his willpower. “Do you have to?” Green eyes were wide. They looked like emeralds under a microscope. Detailed in their pleading. “I can actually stay in bed today. We can have breakfast together, right here.” A brown hand patted the sheets, right near his own fingers. He felt the heat of their skin but nothing touched him.

“I have to help Zoe.” He wanted to snuggle under the duvet and bury his face in the crook of Percy’s neck. “She needs me.”

“What if I need you?” There was no judgement on that beautiful face, just curiosity and mild concern.

“Do you?” He breathed. His lungs were folding in on themselves.

There were several beats of quiet, filled only by their gentle breathing, and the thundering of his heart.

“No.”

Jason cracked in half. He became the canyon in the desert. He became the earthquake in the house. He became the bridge with no rope. He snapped a million times.

“Oh.” The answer was small, and broken.

“I will love you though.”

The world exploded. Jason saw stars become blackholes. Jason became a new universe entirely.

They looked at each other and suddenly he saw the thousands of lives they had lived. He saw the thousand more they would still live. Most especially he saw the one they were living right then, and it was the most beautiful of all.

“Shall we order breakfast?” It was the only thing he could choke out. He would send Reyna’s number to Zoe. They could sort it out. He was here. He wanted to sort himself out.

The beam that graced his friend’s face was worth every screaming thought in his mind that riddled him with guilt.

They both got up to freshen up before diving back into bed, shoulders brushing as they scrolled through their phones and let the sound of a peaceful morning wash over them.

He had thought it would be at least a little weird to be sleeping next to a man he only knew for a year but it felt like some part of him had been comfortable with Percy since the day they were born. Everything was easy: from the way they sat, fitting besides each other, gravitating towards each other; to the things they talked about; every silent question had an answer, every story had shared feelings. Jason knew he wouldn’t fall in love; he would stroll towards it, confident, assured, and excited for the moments to come. He would not look back, not even once.

Breakfast came in a flurry of silver trays and mouth watering smells. They pounced on it as soon as the door shut. Croissants, and pastries, and fruit, and yoghurts. It was a feast that could carry them through the next week. He should have known Percy would order the entire menu.

“Strawberry my good sir?” A brown hand waved near his face, offering him the bright red fruit.

Jason opened his mouth, closing his teeth around the berry which burst with sweetness in his mouth. He couldn’t stop the hum of appreciation that vibrated his throat. The sparkle in those green eyes made him wonder if he should keep making those sounds.

“Are you back at the labs today?” He asked around a croissant, distracting his unsavoury thoughts.

“For a little, and then i have an onsite meeting with the coastal guards and lighthouse keepers.”

“Oh are they a big part of your job?”

He hummed “They know the area and the patterns of the sea better than anyone.”

There was a light in his eyes that made Jason wonder if he ever looked as full of joy when he was talking about his own work. His friend pulled him out of his thoughts with another fruit offering, mango this time.

“I don’t want to talk about work,” He frowned contemplatively. It was rather unfair that even with a crease between his brow, and his mouth quirked Percy still seemed to look like a model, or a god, or something from a Studio Ghibli piece. “Tell me your happiest memory from the last year.”

He leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes as he lost himself to the time reel of the year. It felt both a thousand lifetimes ago and one second from now. “I can’t choose just one.” His eyes are glittering with life past. He refuses to let memories fall down his cheeks.

“Choose three, choose five, tell me everything if you want.” Percy’s voice was a rope over the mountain. He was reaching for it even as he fell.

“The dinner we shared at the university.” He starts. One hand caught the rope.

“The day we met huh?”

“The morning Zoe pitched up at my house and made me late for work.” The ground was so close, and he was still falling.

Percy laughed at the implications hidden in his answer.

“When we danced at the club, I’ve never felt so alive in my life.”

He heard the soft intake from his friend, surprise and… something else coating their thoughts.

The rope was strong under his fingers and he was pulling himself up with ease. When he opened his eyes again, it was to find green ones staring directly at him.

“Do you ever wonder what could have happened if time had slowed down even a fraction of a second the night we met?” The question had sat on his tongue like salt, cutting his tastebuds.

“I’d drive myself insane thinking about all the ways we could have been.” Percy said lowly “I prefer,” He swallowed thickly. Jason wanted to trace the bob of that throat with his tongue. “I prefer to think about all we can do now, now that we can.”

“I think I’ll die if you break my heart.” The fear crystallized him like sugar in a cooling pan. It was the one bridge he still wavered on.

The black-haired man took his hand, fingers cold and warm, and gentle. With a softness that bowed his fear Percy placed Jason’s hand on his chest. His heart was steady, thumping under his palm. He felt the assurance of comfort against his skin. He felt at ease.

“This will belong to you one day,” His friend said quietly, “And when it does it will be fully and completely and without restraint.”

He couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t even breathe. All he could do was feel that constant beating heart, and the warmth of a chest, and the glimmer of emerald eyes, and the first blooms of a new beginning.

“I cannot break your heart Jason Grace,” Percy brushed a thumb across his cheek, “Because I will be breaking mine, and my days of self-destruction are long behind me.”

He melted into being and couldn’t help the sigh of happiness that escaped him. If he did nothing else in life, at least he had had this. These quiet minutes that enveloped every fear in a rose scented bag and let the wind take it away. Far, far away.

“Okay.” He finally rasped. His voice was lost to the sea.

Soon after that Percy had to go to work which left him to laze around in their room and snack on the breakfast feast and doze in the warmth of the sun. He didn’t even bother to put on his robe, preferring to feel the rays against his skin, save for the rectangle of boxers he slept in.

Some part of him wanted to get out and do something but it was quickly squished down by every other part of him that just couldn't do it any longer. Couldn't keep him moving and functioning and thinking.

He summoned up the last bit of energy he could muster and called his lawyer.

“Jason, babe.” Her strong, husky voice ran clear through his speaker, “What can i do for you?”

“Hello Arellano,” He couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of her. So straight to the point, no nonsense, full of energy. “It’s not actually me that needs your help it’s Zoe.”

“Heavens Grace,” He heard the sigh building in her voice. “I mean I loved her as much as the next and I was sorry to hear you guys had broken up but seriously man how are you helping an ex… again?”

He winced, flashbacks of Luke calling on him again and again even after they had parted screaming through his mind. “I’m not technically helping, I’m just sort of recruiting you to help?”

“What sort of trouble is she in?”

“Her father is forcing her to marry an absolute scumbag of a man.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, “You remember the potential business investor, Octavian?”

“Oh gods,” Reyna groaned, and he couldn't help but share in her sentiment.

“Yea.” He pulled a face. “Is there anyway you can get her out of this mess and help her with protective immunity or whatever?”

“I’m gonna have to pull some strings and get digging into some seriously shady shit but I think I can.” He heard the grimace in her voice but there was not a trace of reluctance or potential regret.

“You are incredible!” His sigh of relief was audible enough for the birds outside to imitate it. “I’ll send you her number, and just bill everything to me.”

“You sure?”

“It’s the only way I can help so I will.”

“Then let me get to it.” And then she was gone, already starting the next project.

It’s no wonder they were friends. A bunch of workaholics.

His final call was to Thalia, in which they had a fun little chat that ended with confirmation that Bianca Di Angelo would be paying both Octavian, and Zoe’s father a visit that may or may not result in sudden disappearances and two new people cropping up in another country.

After the morning of maneuvering he couldn't even bear to move from his bed. So he didn't. He wondered if this was what a cat felt like, and then decided it wasn’t possible simply because even cats did more than he had done.

By the time Percy got home, he had showered and was already mostly asleep. Moonlight bathed their bed, the curtains rustled softly, he smelt the sea. The bed dipped just as he drifted off to sleep.

He didn’t hear the whispered, “Goodnight, my love.” that caught in the blossoms by their nightstands. He didn’t feel the gentle brush of fingers against his cheek. All he felt was peace. His dreams were sweet that night.

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

Tags (if you want to be added/taken off the tag list just let me know. All my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts

@leyontheway

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

@msdrpreist

@sparkythunderstorm

@nishlicious-01

@lucyisblue

@legendary-cupcake

@larrikin-is-a-himbo

#empires on the horizon #part 17 #pjjg series #pjjg fanfic #jason is a ceo #jason grace #percy jackson #jason #grace #percy #jackson #pjo #hoo

22 notes · View notes

tastic-blog · 5 years ago

Text

So, inspired by a recent first time viewing (how did i make it this long? No good answers) of The Holiday, I now present to you my Christmas gift to the internet

A Comprehensive Ranking of Romcom Sweaters by Sadness

Join me in an exploration of the knitwear of these dreamy eyed seekers of love, hearts full and arms covered! Their faith: true. Their choices: frequently bad. Their necks: cold.

Two notes before I begin! First- a lot of my very serious research came from the When Romance Met Comedy series of essays by @carolinesiede This series is one of my favorite things on the internet and you should all check it out

Second- my love for this genre is deep and sincere, as is my love for sweaters. Those who dismiss either out of hand may see themselves out.

OK LET'S DO THIS

0/10 Clueless

None percent sadness. Your hair is thick and shining, your schemes are manifold and successful, Daddy's sucky Italian roast is doing exactly what you intended. Let your arms bask in the sun in your sweater vest of youthful triumph.

(Note- the presence of sweaters in teen romcoms are rare. Sweaters are for olds. A teen wearing a sweater is generally a nerd, a cynic, or a cynical nerd. Just another reason why Cher Horowitz is an icon.)

1/10 When Harry Met Sally...

Only a slight tinge of melancholy. Sure, Sally's been on some bad dates recently and she could probably stand to get laid. But it's autumn in New York and she's a fucking avatar of emotional well-adjustment. The sweater is perfectly fitted and perfectly tucked. God, she's in such great shape.

+100 bonus points for Crystal serving proto Chris Evans in Knives Out realness

2/10 While You Were Sleeping

This ranking may appear controversially low, as Lucy Eleanor Moderatz is pretty fucking sad. She is alone at Christmas. Her beloved father is dead and she's fantasizing about an asshole she sees once a day from a public transit token booth. But you guys. This sweater. I've been searching for this sweater since 1995. It's enormous, yet beautifully shaped. It's the platonic ideal of coziness. SHE CAN LITERALLY HIDE PRESENTS IN HER SLEEVES. Sandy B is getting a break on the rent and peak Bill Pullman is about to lean over her, she's doing fine.

3/10 Bridget Jones Diary

Not great, but not precisely sad. Mark Darcy is at a shitty party wearing a dumb sweater and is about to thoughtlessly fuck up his romantic life. But his parents aren't the most embarrassing in the room, and he's got wine and gherkins. Things could be much worse.

4/10 Practical Magic

The sadness of Sally Owens is legion, but she cried in her PJ's and she's got more pressing concerns now. She's got daughters to take care of and a thriving skincare business to run and an undead rapist to send to hell. This is a sweater that acknowledges that your sister is a glamorous fuck up with terrible taste in men, and then is ready to get down to business. It's lightly fitted, with the breathing room for serious magicks.

(Maybe rethink the hair clips tho)

5/10 (500) Days Of Summer

This is where things start to take a turn for the more majorly sad. Tom is pretty pathetic. This is the saggy, washed out cardigan of a man who thinks that liking The Smiths is a meaningful character trait. It needs to be lain flat to dry, and so does Tom. But he still gets up in the morning, puts on a tiny tie, and goes to work. His depression is functional, and so is his sweater.

6/10 The Holiday- Cammy D edition

youtube

Amanda is sad in the way that only the thin, unhinged, and inexplicably wealthy can be. She has no friends. She doesn't know how to pronounce esophageal. The pristine whiteness of this cable knit is terrifying; the reckless abandon with which she waves a glass of pinot in front of it, even more so. You know that shit is dry clean only. Truly, a sadness touched with insanity.

7/ 10Love Actually, Colin Firth

The heaviest, darkest, most turtley-necked sweater to wear on a sadness vacation, sorry writer's retreat, in fucking France. What kind of whiny sack falls in love with someone with whom he cannot communicate at the most basic level? She's in her underwear, he's in an itchy monstrosity 3 sizes too big. This plot line can eat me like that collar is eating his chin.

8/10 Breakfast at Tiffany's

Who gave Holly Golightly the right to be so sad and look so good?? I spent my twenties sobbing on dozens of fire escapes and never came close. In a movie of iconic fashion, this sweatshirt is pre-American Apparel nonsense. Her soul is empty, but her hamper is apparently full because that's some laundry day shit. Her sad sweater is so sad, it trudged north and grew a depressive turban companion.

9/10 High Fidelity and Love Actually

Aka the asshole division. Above, a terrible boyfriend turned into a worse ex boyfriend in the worst fucking sweater I've ever seen. It's a Cosby sweater. A COSBY SWEATER. And below, a creep who turned filming his best friend's wedding into an opportunity to stalk and who keeps that video WITH THE REST OF HIS REGULAR VIDEOS AND IS THAT A DETACHABLE COLLAR?? At least Rob exhibits some growth, Stalker McGee over there gets a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the ass from his movie. These guys are jerks and their sweaters are terrible.

10/10 The Holiday- Kate Winslet edition

The nadir of sartorial desperation. Like its wearer, Iris' sweater has given up. It has no color, no shape, and no options. It is a formless mass that won't even keep your neck warm, thereby necessitating The Stringy Scarf of Sadness. It is literally a sweater in which to contemplate suicide. Thank god Eli Wallach is waiting in the wings, because this is as bad as it gets.

Ok, I'm gonna go watch While You Were Sleeping. THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT

#romcom #the holiday #love actually #when harry met sally #clueless #500 days of summer #high fidelity #practical magic #while you were sleeping #sweaters #sweater weather #Youtube

57 notes · View notes

aliasimagines · 5 years ago

Text

Runaway Lovers // Jason Todd

a/n: So. This did not turn out how I planned, at all but I love it, to the point that I might continue it in the future. I saw a few people do arranged marrige au's ( I'm looking at you @im-hqlover) and I thought... Why not? But I put in a little twist, threw in some angst (don't worry it didn't turn out to be heartbreaking) and I got this. This is supposed to be set in the 1800s (around the 60s or 70s). ALSO Happy freaking Birthday to Jason! ❤️ Hope you guys enjoy reading

word count: 1409

As soon as you heard you ran. You did not care about your beautiful dress as you stepped into dirty puddles on your way. You did not care for your father’s shouts as he screamed for you to stay. You did not care fpr the people you shouldered as you ran on the cobble stoned streets.

No you did not care about all these. You only cared to find him. He must have heard it too. And he must be furious. Even more than you are.

You ran through the open, black iron gate and towards the huge manor where you spent oh so many of your time.

You didn’t even have to knock, the door already opened as soon as you stood in front of it. And behind it, stood and elderly man with a small mustache. His face showed empathy.

„Miss Y/N. I am deeply sorry.”

For a moment you felt your anger drifting away just a little bit.

„Thank you Alfred.”

He nodded his head and pointed you in direction. You didn’t needed it honestly, he knew that too. Both of you could hear the muffled shouting from the salon.

You lifted your gown again, so it wouldn’t bother you as you rushed to the door. You opened it. Just enough so you could take a look inside.

You saw Mr Wayne opposite from the door, in front of the brick fireplace. He still wore that suit and coat he did not long ago when he and your father had a ’business meeting’ in your home. You couldn’t really read his face but the way he stood..he was frustrated. Suddenly a shouting young man blocked your view. He stood with his back facing you, but you recognized him. How could you not? It was Jason, the love of your life.

„...no choice?! Are your factories worth more to you than your own sons’ happiness?”

Ah yes, if you weren’t sure till now about his knowledge on the thing, his words made it crystal clear. The eldest Wayne closed his eyes for a moment, massaging the bridge of his nose as he sighed.

„No. Of course, not but without Y/N’s father we can not keep up the factories. Think about the thousands of poor people who wouldn’t have jobs!”

You could almost hear Jason’s next words (I don’t care!)

You opened the door now. You were still raging on the inside but you spoke with a quiet, soft voice.

„Jason...” you gently touched his shoulder, he spin around in a speed of light and took you in his arms.

„Y/N.” he breathed, suddenly feeling a really strong urge to break down and cry. But wouldn’t you, in his place? He just learned that the girl he loves, more than anything, has to marry his older brother because of the deal your fathers made.

„I am sorry Y/N. I tried everything but your father insisted that you marry my eldest son.” Bruce looked... Ashamed?

You were about to respond something when you heard sniffing. Until now you haven’t even noticed the quietly crying figure on the couch. There was, Richard Grayson, with his face buried in his hands. And you remembered the long ginger haired girl he used to hang around a lot.

„I don’t want this.” you said, pulling yourself closer to Jason.

Bruce looked at his two older sons and you, who he knew since your birth, and he left the room, filled with guilt and frustration, he left without a word.

Jason looked after him with eyes shining from the over flown tears.

„I can’t believe he done this... And your father! I knew he didn’t like me but this... This is just... Insane.”

You could disagree with him, neither could you speak because if you were to open your mouth you’d start sobbing and then maybe you couldn’t ever stop.

You stood still in each other’s embrace, Dick was looking at the ceiling with watery eyes when the door reopened.

But it wasn’t Bruce. It was a beautiful woman, whom you seen so many times.

„Dry your tears, children and hurry up.” she said in a firm tone.

All three of you looked at her.

„What?”

She sighed inpatiently.

„I am not letting my idiot of a husband ruin your lives. Jason, Y/N follow me to the stable. I took the liberty of packing your bags.”

Jason lett go of you so he could look at his adoptive mother.

„Selina.. I don’t get it.”

Neither did Dick or you but he was the only one to voice this.

„Kid there’s no time for this- ah damn it! You know how you said you always wanted to travel around the world? Well Jason now you can, with Y/N. Two horses are waiting for you.”

„Why would you do this for us Miss Kyle?”you ask. She shakes her head.

„Told you. I want all of you to be happy. If you ran away with Jason, Dick can’t marry you.”

Dick was the first to react. He lunged forward and hugged the woman.

„Thank you so much Selina!” he turned to you. „Excuse me, but I am so happy I don’t have to marry you, darling!”

A little laugh escaped your lips. You were too. Richard was like a brother to you. To imagine him being your husband...brr.

Jason rolled his eyes at his brother.

„Of course, you should be happy.” even though he sounded annoyed he smiled at his brother with such love. He hugged him.

„I guess it’s goodbye , brother.”

„But only for now, little brother” Dick laughed and hugged me too. „Look out for each other, alright?”

You both noded.

„Come now, dears, we must hurry.”

„What about Timothy, Cass, Duke and Damian and little Helena?” Jason asks in a panicked vioce. To leave without saying goodbye to them..

„We don’t have the time Jace. I promise I will explain everything to them when the two of you are out of town. But we really need to get going.”

She lead the way out, on a narrow hallway, which you couldn’t quite recall even though you spent most of your time at the manor considering how your father never really had time for you.

„Jason in the bag which I strapped to your horse, you’ll find an address. It’s on the other side of the city but if you get there till midnight two of my friends will wait for you outside and take you in for the night. They will help you get on a ship at dawn. „

You knew how Selina was a mysterious woman but this sounded wild even for her.

„ What friends? „you asked as the same time a Jason asked:” Where is the ship sailing to?”

„ The two of you have to many questions.” she opened a door to outside. You could see the barn.

„Old friends that I trust. And to Europe. To France.”

„Good thing I know french.” Jason smiled.

„Yes, it is a good thing. Use it! And don’t tell anyone who you are.” she now turned to you. „Your father...I know he will move every stone to find you.”

You arrived next to the horses.

„Everything you will need is in your bags. The money will be enough for a few months if you are clever with it. Put these on.” Selina tossed a cloaked robe at each of you. „Use the path through the garden and turn right next to the old fountain. You’ll find yourself on the street in a couple of minutes.”

She watches as the two of you hop on your horses.

„I know you are smart. Both of you. But be careful. And I will miss you. So make sure to write me a letter once in a while, young man!”

Jason smiled and leaned down to kiss Selina’s forehead.

„I promise... But, Selina..what about Bruce?

„He.. He needs time. That idiot. But he will come around” Jason nods at her answer.

Jason looked at you, with questioning eyes, he wanted to know if you really want this. You took a deep breath and smiled at him.

„Thank you for everything Selina.”

She just waved for the two of you to leave. You did, you rode away on your horses as fast as they were able to run. And as you left the manor grounds, you knew, this was just the beginning of a great life.

#i wrote the last part while walking my dog #poor doggy #i stopped every 2 seconds #and he dragged me through the whole field 😂#jason todd angst #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #victorian au #dc imagine #jason todd oneshot #jason todd one shot #jason todd imagines #batboys x reader #batboys fluff #batboys angst #jason todd fluff #alias imagines

119 notes · View notes

sophi-s · 5 years ago

Text

After three days. Three freaking days.

It is finished.

A kiss to die for

By: sophi-s (me)

Words: 4,531

Franchise: Darksiders video games

Characters: Fallen!Astarte, Abaddon

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, near death experience, angst, necromancy, I changed the storyline just a tiny bit for the purposes of this, Abaddon gets his ass handed to him by his ex :P.

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

Eden. The first gift from the Creator himself to the Humanity. A home for the First Ones. Once, an indescribably beautiful place full of grand trees and fresh, soft grass, flowing with cool, crystal clear waters. Colorful fruits growing in the trees, a delight to eye and tongue. Within, no danger could reach Humanity's ancestors. Truly a paradise the first humans rightfully called it. But now, after a great war that took place here, seemingly not that long ago, the great garden was left scarred and burning. Made into a tomb for those who sought to claim it. Bodies of Nephilim were left to burn and decay, forgotten and abandoned.

However, something has changed. A dark shadow passed over the sacred graveyard, leaving only madness and corruption in its wake. Those who perished picked themselves up from the ground and lashed out at Eden's guardians. Surprised and unable to respond with a coordinated defensive, the Faneguard had to call for retreat after their leader, Malahidael fell to the blades and arrows of the living dead. Amongst the scattered angels was the general of Heaven's Legions. Trying his best to keep his brethren focused and plan a tactical escape.

At least that's what he was trying before. Before he saw the cause of this nightmare. Now, outstretched on the ground in the dust, he forced himself up onto his elbow as he crawled towards his discarded blade, clutching at his chest that felt as though it had been caved in after a charging monstrosity trampled him in full speed.

How could this happen?

Fighting with his chaotic thoughts, he finally got a hold of the hilt but when he turned around, it was already too late. A large paw armed with razor-sharp claws landed on him, pinning him down and successfully immobilizing his lower half. And then his own blue eyes stared up into a pair of white ones, the same eyes that doomed him from the moment he met their gaze for the first time. The eyes that occupied his thoughts when he was awake and his dreams while he slept. Eyes of Astarte.

But what stood above him… this thing, this monster was Astarte no longer. From the waist up, the woman was stunningly beautiful as she always was, with her pale white eyes and long flowing, platinum blonde hair. But her legs have been replaced by a body of a feline beast with wings coated in blackness of corruption, feathers shimmering with red glyphs. A wicked smile was twisting her petal like lips and wherever her clawed paws fell, the dead bodies shivered and rose, called back into the accursed unlife. Utter insanity shone in her eyes.. Keeping his stone façade was no longer possible as inwardly he was falling apart. Astarte. The same Astarte who would kill and die for him, the same who he trusted more than anyone. The same Astarte he dared to love. Her smirk grew wider as she chuckled.

"Who do we have here? The great general of Heaven's Legions Abaddon himself!"

The unfamiliar taunting tone of her voice sent a shiver down his spine, as did the way she bared her teeth in a disturbing grin. Giving the large paw a tug to try and wriggle free, quickly realising it's pointless as the damned thing didn't even budge, Abaddon took a struggling breath, pretty sure his sternum was damaged if not broken.

"Astarte…"

His voice came out as a broken, pleading whisper. He still couldn't… or maybe he didn't want to… cope with what he was seeing clearly like on the palm of his hand. Astarte, his most formidable soldier, the strongest of them all, and the only woman in the Universe he felt something special for… Fallen into the vice-like grip of Lucifer's corrupting influence. Gone was the gentle smile that crawled its way up onto her face whenever she spotted him. Abaddon swallowed thickly when he noticed the spear in her hand poised to strike and carve his broken heart out from his chest. Astarte would never harm him…

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

She scoffed and used her other paw to press his right arm to the ground should he try to take a swipe at her. But they both knew far too well that he couldn't have, even if he wanted to. Astarte leaning over him was still the one his heart yearned for, still beautiful just… in a different, more horrifying way. Through the ringing in his ears after his head cracked against a rock, he could hear someone call out to him but whoever it was, they were successfully pushed back by the horde of undead Nephilim.

"Astarte, don't do it.."

He quietly begged, even though he never begs. Seeing her like this, twisted and bestial, did something to him he couldn't quite comprehend. Touched that part of his soul he didn't even know about. Strangely enough, even in her madness, Astarte must've sensed something in him that gave her a pause as she curiously tilted her head to one side. All the moments, even the shortest ones, he'd spent with Astarte in the past were flashing before his eyes. Every time they had one another's back in battle, every time one saved the other's life, every time they spoke about the things they would never tell anyone else whenever they were alone. And that memorable moment when they stood together, away from the prying eyes that moonlit night. Abaddon was listening to her as she asked him if what she feels is right, if there's any possible way he feels that way as well. He almost laughed at her obliviousness and the fact that his love was there before she even realised her own. Of course.. He took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes, absolutely mesmerized, waiting for permission to finally grant her the proof of his love and devotion, one which she silently gave him with a nod and a smile.

"I would walk through the fire of Nine Hells for you."

He said before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. A kiss, stolen kiss he was dying to receive. It was very brief but still felt like his first flight over the White City. Liberating, wonderful and equally as intoxicating. Those were the most beautiful memories he'd ever made but now they were like a parasite buried deeply into his brain, one that refused to leave his head, reminding him of better times and cackling maniacally at him as the present was coming undone before his very eyes. He wanted those memories to go. But there was no escape. Neither from them nor from Astarte herself.

"Look at me.."

"I am."

"Please, come to your senses. It's not you.. You need to fight it, I know you have it in you. Don't leave me like this… Don't you remember everything I'd done for you? Everything you'd done for me ?"

For a second, Astarte's grin fell, making place for a thoughtful expression and for this short second Abaddon dared to hope that there's still light in her. That he somehow managed to get to her. But all these hopes were taken away when she shook her head and looked at him… not with anger. It was pity, plain and simple as she spoke in a condescending tone.

"Fool. So loyal and righteous. Look around! The war had ended long ago, yet we remain stranded in this forsaken tomb! We've been abandoned and no one will set us free if we don't do so ourselves! Don't tell me you cannot see it."

He couldn't believe his ears. It wasn't the honorable and just angel he used to know. The Astarte he knew was gone. This was a twisted monster bearing the visage of his dearest, taunting him with her beauty that was always keeping his hand paralyzed whenever he tried to strike her even though his life depended from it.

"I have chosen my path, Abaddon. And you can walk it with me.."

Abaddon eyed her hand warily as she stretched it out to him, offering him help in standing up. He was torn. On the one hand, he so, so wanted to accept and be with Astarte as he used to. No one would take her from him ever again. But taking her hand would also mean slipping into the hateful darkness. Welcoming the sullying blackness inside and succumbing to madness. Straying from the light and forsaking his duty in favor of the same accursed power that destroyed her.

It was a dangerous thing, this love.. Pushing even the most reasonable people to do unthinkable and dangerous things in the name of it. More often than not at costs that rarely make it worth it. Lucifer knew this. And he used it as a weapon against Abaddon by turning Astarte. He knew not what the Dark Prince offered her but it must've been worth losing oneself. Astarte was now Lucifer's servant, not the love of Abaddon's eternal life. He couldn't… he couldn't end up like her. His already bleeding heart screamed out with anguish when he finally gathered himself to speak.. and refused.

"I… can't do this, Astarte. Not even for you…"

"That's a pity…"

Abaddon grunted in pain when the pressure on his wrist increased to the point when he could feel his bones beginning to crack. And then as suddenly as it appeared, the crushing weight was gone, both from his arm and his chest. But he wasn't free. His breath was abruptly cut off when Astarte's slender fingers, which often fiddled with his hair when he had a moment to lie down and rest after a hard day, looking up at her sitting beside his head, before all this, mercilessly curled around his throat and lifted him up to her eye level until his toes could no longer reach the ground. She was strong. Stronger than he remembered. His left hand grasped Astarte's wrist as he tried to struggle free while he raised his sword to attack. But… looking deep into her eyes, at her face, mouth curved in a poisonous sweet smile, the silken skin of her cheeks… His hand trembled. Once again he proved her and himself he doesn't have it in him to do this. Damn it all. This one, seemingly harmless emotion was what ultimately led him to his own doom. If he'd never fallen for Astarte he wouldn't be here, flapping his wings madly in an attempt to wriggle out of her hold. But he couldn't command his heart. It would not listen to him.. Abaddon couldn't simply stop loving Astarte. Her eyebrows furrowed in a gentle frown and he felt the tip of her gilded spear press insistently against his abdomen, right under his ribs. Cold sweat began to bead around his brow. Oh Creator…

"Fret not, love.."

Astarte purred, making him finally stop beating his wings and look her in the eye again only to see an unsettling spark in there. Despite the obvious danger, hearing her call him her "love" in this deceivingly sweet voice still made his racing heart skip a beat.

"It won't be long.. And when you die, you'll be forever at my side. Just as you desired."

As a monster, not unlike her. A living corpse that defiled the natural order by its existence itself. He didn't want to go like this. What an end it is for a general of Heaven? Killed by his own lieutenant and brought back to life as a shambling husk of what he used to be? Preposterous. Cold lump of fear settled into the pit of his stomach. He could only count seconds. One.. two… it didn't even come to three when the blade sunk deeply into his flesh, piercing the armor as though it wasn't even there in the first place and running him through. After all, the spear was created specifically to fight armored opponents… Abaddon wanted to scream out in pain but the wail of agony was cut short by the firm grasp on his throat that stopped the air escaping his lungs. Pain clouded his vision but did not silence his racing thoughts. He was weak. He couldn't strike Astarte down as his enemy, denying her the well deserved rest and falling to her blade like a fool he felt like. He struggled to breathe and keep his eyes opened when he felt Astarte loosen her ironclad grip on his neck and move her hand to his face, oh so gently pulling the strands of his hair, matted with sweat, to the side and behind his ear before placing the same hand on the back of his neck to keep his head still. He gasped for air through his opened mouth as blood was beginning to well up in his throat and dribble down his chin. And then Astarte unexpectedly leaned in and decisively captured his lips with her own, granting him the final kiss for a farewell.

Abaddon's eyes widened in fear and shock but even though the pain of the spear through his side, he found himself going slack in Astarte's arms. His ornate blade clattered to the ground when his fingers unfurled and let it slip out. No strength remained within him to even try and respond to Astarte's lips, even if he wanted to. But what he hoped to be his last comfort turned out to be nothing more than a cruel torment with how cold and meaningless the kiss felt. It was nothing like the one back in the White City. Hollow seconds ticked by. It tasted only of the blood flooding his tongue and the bitter defeat. No love, no passion and no feelings remained in her black heart. Only the empty void and tasteless ashes… Monster. Astarte no longer… She would never hurt him…

Astarte knew him and all of his weak spots all too well. She knew how and where to strike to make it hurt. And this last kiss was only a tool to her. There wasn't any physical pain anymore when she finally pulled away with his blood painting her lips in deep crimson and let his body slip down the spear to collapse onto the shriveled grass. The last thing Abaddon saw before numbing darkness swallowed him was Astarte delightedly licking his scarlet life essence on her mouth and teeth before she hummed contentedly

"Farewell, my love. I'll see you again soon enough…"

She stood close, gazing at the distant stars shimmering in the black sky.

"The night sure is beautiful."

"It is. Even more so with you around."

"Tsk. Sweet-talker…"

In the impenetrable black, Abaddon heard nothing, saw nothing and felt nothing aside from the dull ache within his chest. Betrayal… Every beat of his heart was a torture. He couldn't even tell if it was really beating or not anymore. It bled ceaselessly. Craving for the lost love. Crying out to Astarte as something started to tug at the strings of his very soul. Trying to pull him free from his still body that refused to move no matter how much he wished to stand or at least sit up. Memories were passing all too quickly through his head. Eyes shining with uncertainty, a relieved smile as he staggered upright with a pained grimace that was supposed to be a comforting smile..

" Are you certain everything is alright? For a moment there I was afraid you were gone.."

"Never, my light. I would never leave you."

He wasn't going to the Kingdom of the Dead, he was certain. Astarte would make sure of it.. Curse Lucifer.. curse this wretched feeling still coiled in his chest, like a festering plague. Warriors of Heaven are people of unbreakable steel. Calm and collected beings of logic. But when it comes to honest feelings, there's nothing in between. They either don't care or love to the death. And when they love and it all falls apart, their hearts break like no one else's. No, they don't even break… they shatter to a million pieces like a frozen flower. And even if they are ever put back together, they're never the same. Those scars run too deep to ever disappear. Curse everything… Soft hair he tangled his fingers in, a heartbeat right beside his… warm presence next to him and a misleadingly delicate cheek pressed to the skin on top of his chest..

"What happens now then?"

"Doesn't matter. As long as we stay together."

"We will, Abaddon…"

He tasted the copper tinge of blood again as Astarte's voice echoed in his head when she swore to him. When he believed her..

I P R O M I S E .

Those two words… They meant a world to him. Even after he saw what Astarte had become… Abaddon desperately clung to those words like a drowning man holds onto the final breath until the very last second. And that was his downfall. She promised me…

The last memory of Astarte before all this chaos wormed its way into his mind. A less pleasant one. He could see there was something wrong with her back then. This was the first time they had a true falling out. Well.. can this really be called a falling out if it was just him being yelled at? Astarte was changed already. Something happened to her after the Nephilim slaughter. Something he had foolishly overlooked. Maybe he was just too preoccupied with his own grief? Blood tumbled down from her wound, painting both her and his armor in vibrant red from where a crude spear met her body…

It didn't take long for the last of the Nephilim to fall when this happened. She held onto life tightly as he led her deeper into the garden where healers would take care of her. Abaddon waited outside the tent, pacing back and forth until Azrael, who'd been tending to Astarte himself, walked out. A slender hand fell onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and making him look at his old friend bearing a sullen expression. He'd never been so terrified in his life like in this short moment when he waited for Azrael to inevitably tell him that it was too late to help her but he merely asked Abaddon to come with him inside. Somehow, it was even worse. He saw her sitting on the edge of a cot, face pale, lips pressed into a thin line, staring at nothing. Eyes of other angels were on the three of them as the two archangels walked in. It was a relief to see her alive but there was no doubt that something was wrong. The patches of fresh crimson staining her trousers on her inner thighs only confirmed his suspicions. And Azrael didn't keep him waiting for an explanation.

"She was with child.."

The news hit him like a slug to the face. With a sack of bricks no less. Astarte, his beloved, bearing his blood in her womb. By all means he should feel ecstatic. He should rejoice. But this one word, this tiny word filled him with absolute dread. Was.

"The blade went deep.. There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry."

Who knows how long he stood there like a wooden stake? There was nothing I could do. Azrael was inarguably the best healer in the White City. He knew what he was saying. And yet… Abaddon found it difficult to believe his words. A child. His child. Died before they even had a chance to live.. It hurt more than any wound he'd ever received. When he finally could move, he approached Astarte and sat beside her, reaching for her hand to give her something to hold on to. But her violent reaction caught him off guard. She jerked away, her words dripped like acid.

"It's your fault. Get away from me!"

"Astarte, listen.."

"No! It never should've happened! Why would you do this to me?!"

This was the first time she called him per "you" in the presence of other angels. He knew not what she was truly going through but if his own sorrow was any indication, it must've been a nightmare. They'd lost something they didn't even know they had and it felt like the end of the world they'd built together. In a way, it was... Abaddon tried reaching out again but Astarte batted his hand away and leaped up to her feet despite the pain.

"Don't touch me! Do not speak to me, get off!"

"Astarte!"

He managed to call out before she stormed out of the tent, wrapping her wings around herself as a barrier that could protect her from the world around. Were it not for a firm grip on his arm, he would've gone after her. It was Nathaniel who stopped him. Abaddon looked at his friend, the right side of his face wrapped up in bandages just like his side he was keeping his hand over.

"It's not going to help. Let her go for now."

It's been a long time since he felt this lonely. He left the tent without another word, ignoring whatever it was Azrael was saying, and walked away from the camp like a wandering spectre who lost its way to the Well. And when he was far enough, he found himself collapsing on the ground, angrily hitting it with his fist as though it was the culprit here. They died without so much of a name.. Abaddon knew that what Astarte said wasn't true. He had no idea, it can't have been his fault… and yet this thought kept bothering him.

I should've protected you better. I have failed you.. both of you…

It took a couple of shaky breaths to collect his thoughts. Unable to do anything else, he pulled himself to his knees, clasped his hands together and started to whisper a prayer, seeking compassion in the Creator and his silent presence.

Astarte was already slipping after that and the prolonged stay in Eden only made it worse. She became distant and irritable, constantly itching for a fight, be it with words or blades. He thought she needed time to grieve. But this was something else. Something more sinister. Perhaps if he noticed it earlier.. done something… If only…

The odd tugging suddenly ceased and moments later a wave of comforting warmth washed all over him, gathering in his side where he was impaled. Deep within his chest, he felt his heart quiver, desperately fighting to keep beating. At first he thought he was merely waiting for Astarte to pull him back into the land of the living as a detestable abomination but no.. He yet lived. His thoughts were abruptly dispersed when he heard voices, very familiar and concerned voices, break through, the buzzing in his head.

"Did that do it?"

"Is he even alive ?"

"Hard to tell. It doesn't look good.."

"No, it doesn't.. Do you think we got to him on time?"

"I do not know. I'm not even sure if- Wait, I think he moved."

Abaddon indeed stirred, prying his eyes open with no small effort, immediately regretting his choice after a far too bright light intruded underneath his eyelids, and descending into a fit of uncontrollable coughs, spitting out all the blood that remained within as soon as he took a deeper breath. Pain. Horrible, excruciating pain filled his chest. He had been right. His sternum was definitely broken.

Damn all of it. Damn Lucifer, damn the Nephilim and damn the blasted air that hurt his lungs with every breath. Mist eventually fell from his sights, revealing to him familiar, tired faces of angelic soldiers leaning over him with distressed looks. His men. The Faneguard. They survived. Some of them at least… Malahidael wasn't so lucky.. One of them, Fariel if his memory doesn't deceive him, was holding up Abaddon's hand in his, and held between his curled fingers, Abaddon noticed an emptied crystal, a used up healing shard glimmering in the sunlight as the energy that was channelled into his body began to close the torn blood vessels.

"Lord Abaddon. Can you hear me?"

Gasping for another bit of air, horribly weakened but still very much alive and likely to stay that way, Abaddon gurgled out a disturbing sound that was supposed to be a miserable chuckle. In honesty, it sounded more like a dying demon than a laugh.. It only served to agitate them even further until he breathed out with relief and nodded as no coherent word could form in his mouth. What happened to Astarte when he was on death's door, he could only guess. But one thing he was sure of. She was still out there. Raving mad and dangerous to all who step into Eden. The law was clear. Astarte had fallen into darkness, defiled the dead and raised her weapon against her brethren. This was not an easy decision but after what he'd seen and lived through, Abaddon was certain now. He tried to bring her back, save her from the hate that grew within her like a malicious weed. But she was clearly too far gone. He couldn't help her.. Too late. As always, he was too late. Whether Abaddon likes it or not, Astarte needs to die. There was nothing more he could do for her. But he won't be the one to play the executioner and the hand of justice. He knew he couldn't. He'd failed twice already.. It will be done, just… not now.

Perhaps another time… They were safe for now. And he needed to think… Abaddon lifted his free hand to his mouth. It was still there, this horrid sensation.. and he knew it won't go away for a long, long time. Resting his head against the ground, he exhaled heavily as blessed unconsciousness started to take a hold on him once more. He needed to rest. They all did…

Even as he was falling into the dark again, he could still feel Astarte's venomous kiss upon his lips. Burning like fire and sinking cruel claws into his chest. Would he ever forgive her for tearing his heart apart? Probably. It wasn't her fault after all. It can't be, can it? Would he ever forget, though? Unlikely.. Abaddon couldn't help but wonder… if it was all his fault? He couldn't command his feelings and order them to leave him. But still, he felt guilty. Not even for Astarte's fall anymore but for ever letting this infatuation control him. That's where this love had gotten him so far. It left him weak and vulnerable. It was beautiful while it lasted but now? Only suffering remained.

No wonder Heaven has such a disdain for love. It causes naught but misery and ruin. A dire thought invaded his hazy mind. It matters not what Astarte had done. He still loved her. Soon, she will be put to rest. And him? Well.. Every, even the greatest warrior has to fall in battle. Eventually… And when that day comes, he will be ready to embrace his end. When that day comes.. they will meet again. Maybe... But until then… His heart hastened even still as he took another breath and silently told himself…

…Never again…

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

It.. it was supposed to be short? I did say short fic, didn't I? Uhh.. Whoops 😓

Also, Gimp 2 has nearly succeed in driving me nuts. In Poland we say "stand on eyelashes and clap one's ears" when something is nigh impossible. Yeah. That was that.

Btw, I take back everything I said about Abaddon's shoulder pads , they're mf'ing gorgeous 👌

#darksiders #darksiders fan fiction #darksiders genesis #my fic #darksiders astarte #astarte #darksiders abaddon #abaddon #here I go writing about that arsehole again XD #idk #I can't tag properly :P #my art #fan art #darksiders art #also .I.. Gimp #it's so hard to do decent stuff #it's not even that good :/

42 notes · View notes

papers4me · 5 years ago

Note

In my opinion, the mangaka of Hajime Isayama created this manga to show people the horrors and cruelty of war and human selfishness. Attack on Titan's message is a criticism against war and violence, that's my interpretation of this manga.

Hi. I agree. This is my interpretation as well.

I’ll discuss this from a writer perspective more than an audience/viewer perspective.

I haven’t seen anything in the anime so far that can be pro-war. Everything is anti-war & criticism of human cruelty. you see, the beauty of good story-telling is realizing that those who commit horrible deeds are human, without justifying the horrible deed itself. Meaning, their actions from their perspective is either the correct one or the only one or the last one to do (there is huge difference between the three types). Their perspective is most probably not the best or not right one when viewed from the viewer/audience/reader. But it is the perspective of this character/s. They lack the holistic perspective of the audience & it must create division among audiences because it mimics real life situations in war time when different sections see things differently. (heck! even now with Corona we are very divided among ourselves) Also, their perspective MUST clash with the perspective of the other side in the story (other characters) otherwise... there is NO story/ No war.

All characters are highly traumatized & their judgement is affected by past horrors. This is NOT an excuse for their actions, but it creates brilliant story.

Also the story tackles the “oppressed becoming oppressive” or “the victim committing sth similar to what is done to them if not more horrible”. There is a reason this theme is rarely attempted in fiction & unless you are a well-respected director/writer with oscars in your position, you’ll be chewed & fail if you try it. My professor has always discouraged me from attempting such theme ..” you are too inexperienced for this” , “ try sth that can sell & get your name out there first”, “ play into fan’s/ppl’s expectations & favorite tropes” , “play it safe”... at the end, I’d be creating sth that won’t ever stand out & will drown in the ocean of popular stories.. but those writers who are brave enough don’t play it safe, don’t play into fans services, who finish a character off/ a sub-plot when it is most convenient regardless of the characters’ popularity amongst fans, who tackle ugly topics from different perspectives can actually create sth extraordinary.

people want the victim/oppressed to rise above the injustice committed against them, become way better, achieve happiness, get their stolen rights back, to not become an uglier copy of their attacker. There are victims who do that. yes. Thank God! but there are those who can’t/ don’t. It is true. It is reality that some victims fail & end up in way horrible situations than when they started. In fiction, there are many stories about the former type, but very few abt the later cuz ppl don’t like that. it is frustrating to see/read. But writing abt it creates an amazing chance to criticize the horrors of war. Killing ppl physically & mentally.

If watch a child tragically abused, you’ll cheer for them to win, live, to become a hero!!! if they do, you’ll walk away from the story satisfied feeling “ good always win”. but watch them fail, succumb into the darkness & become a copy of the injustice committed against them, become a monster!!! you’ll walk away from the story disappointed!! angry, feeling robbed of your time, curse even! hate it all... but the feeling of betrayal stays with you.... sending a subliminal message that “ .... creating victims can create heroes or monsters... so... rather than discussing the victim... discuss the injustice itself!! DO NOT LET IT HAPPEN!.. you don’t need to cheer for little heroes or curse little monsters if there were no injustice/darkness creating them. ..... but there will always be injustice created by human.. repeated over & over through history.

often times you can guess the direction the story is heading to from its opening ep, if you miss that, you got the major eps scattered thro season. AOT didn’t trick anyone. it was obvious as the sun in the Sahara that this is a story with darkness emphasized, with No victories simply cuz “ there will always be war/fights even if only 2 ppl remain” or sth like this forgot the actual quote but it is said by either erwin or pixis. In every victory, the story does not celebrate it but instead emphasizes the tragedies behind it. e,g: When Eren plugged the hole in season 1, humanities first victory against titans, what is the next scene? Finding marco dead & lots of pictures of dead soldiers & citizens. When Annie was crystalized, did we celebrate preventing the enemy from escaping? No. we saw citizens die left & right, all just to catch her. When the uprising was happening & historia become queen, did we win? No. Zackery, a military dictator was sitting in her counsel enjoying torturing nobles & his hobby was in no way secret to even erwin.. the list goes on.. this is a story that focuses on the loss more than the gains, in the struggle more than the result. it is not abt winning or losing a war, it is abt “ its horror” created by ppl with different perspective that fail to see eye to eye with the other side.

This is a tough story that most mainstream media & non-aniime / or light anime watchers are used to see in big Hollywood films or Game of Thrones or sth. There are extremely dark anime out there, darker that AOT, but AOT has reached an unprecedented level of exposure especially with social media. ppl talk abt it & warn against it or cheer for it when it is not even finished yet. so, I applaud the writer for not going insane from pressure!!!!!! please Mr. writer, write the story as you first intended because this connects the dots that you have planted early on within the story, don’t give in into the pressure & attempt “ happier outcome, or safer result, or more commercialized solution”. End it as bravely as you started it. Tie together all the themes. Good luck!!!! you’ve got millions of eyes watching you. Some want you to win, others want you to fail & prove them right.. after all, it is all abt perspective.

#anime-only #plz don't comment with spoilers #Non manga reader #attack on titan #Good story telling #different perspectives #dark themes #exhausted paper #shingeki no kyojin

27 notes · View notes

taetaespeaches · 4 years ago

Text

favorite albums of twenty-twenty:

I’m indecisive, so disclaimer lol. But I wanted to be self-indulgent for a moment and share my very favorite albums of 2020. In a year where I felt both alone and lonely, music was massively important to me. I tried to limit this to my top ten but I’m too indecisive and a lot of amazing music came out this year so there’s eighteen albums lol. Why not. So yeah, enjoy or ignore, I just had the urge to do this. (This isn’t in order except BE, D-2, Maria, and Map of the Soul: 7 are all definitely in the top five.)

Also, if you see this and want to do your own, tag me! I’d love to see your top albums <3

↬ BE — BTS

⟶ Top tracks: Telepathy, Blue & Grey, Fly To My Room, Disease, Life Goes On

I mean come on. This was the pandemic album we all needed and I will forever be grateful for this masterpiece. I think this is an album that will grow with me and will kind of act as a companion throughout my life. The musicality, the lyrics, the variety, all of it, it’s just perfection. It feels like a friend who gives you comfort but also makes you confront your emotions, and that was everything I needed this year. I will forever be obsessed with this one. BE is my friend.

↬ D-2 — Agust D

⟶ Top Tracks: People, Moonlight, Daechwita, What do you think?, Dear my friend

Agust D came back and he fucking owned it. The amount of pure talent and passion in this mixtape is un-fucking-real. Yoongi is just unbelievably talented and this album perfectly displays that. Plus, these songs have been my ride or die since May, like, there isn’t a week that goes by that I don’t listen to this album in full at least once. Just incredible.

↬ María — Hwasa

⟶ Top Tracks: LMM, Maria, Intro: Nobody Else, WHY, I’m bad too

This album is so connected to my fucking soul. I swear, Ahn Hyejin and I’s emotions are so similar and the way we process them is soooo similar, this album just honestly means the world to me. Plus, it’s amazing. Every song is a masterpiece. Obsessed. Much like D-2, I listen to this album at least once a week. And the number of times I have cried listening to it is unreal. Intro: Nobody Else is very much how I felt this year and LMM has made me cry more times than I care to admit. This album makes me feel what I’m feeling, gives me comfort, and helps me pick myself back up again. Another one that will grow with me. This year through the loneliness and in times that I felt I had no one, this was my companion.

↬ MAP OF THE SOUL: 7 — BTS

⟶ Top tracks: Black Swan, Interlude : Shadow, My Time, ON, Friends, Moon, We are Bulletproof: the Eternal, Outro : Ego

Come onnnnnn. Perfection!!!! Quite literally the album that has been there with me through every step of this pandemic. I still cry watching the Ego mv. Why? No clue, just makes me sob tears of happiness. Black Swan? Possibly one of my very favorite songs EVER. OF ALL TIME. My Time? Relatable as fuck. Friends? The cutest thing I’ve ever heard. Moon? I’m sobbing again, that’s my emotional support Seokjinnie. Just, the album is a goddamn masterpiece, I don’t care who disagrees, my opinion is fact on this one.

↬ love is not dying — Jeremy Zucker

⟶ Top tracks: full stop, oh, mexico, hell or flying, lakehouse

Jeremy is another one that I just feel emotionally related too. Like I just get what he says and means and it hits me right in the heart and mind and gut. Another companion album. I think full stop is one of the most relatable songs I’ve ever heard- lyrically and the way it builds and becomes a bit chaotic… like whoah. I feel that in my chest. Also, oh, mexico is another song I related to so hard this year. This album has just made a massive impact on me and I love it.

↬ folklore — Taylor Swift

⟶ Top tracks: seven, peace, the lakes, the 1

So Taylor surprised everyone with an album. What the fuck, ma’am? This is my second favorite Taylor album to date, second to only her second surprise album of the year. Like what? I’ve cried listening to this album and absolutely sobbed listening to seven. She just really popped off with this one and I don’t think I need to explain to you all why this album is so good. If you’ve heard it, you know.

↬ evermore — Taylor Swift

⟶ Top tracks: ivy, cowboy like me, long story short, coney island, gold rush

Oh here we have another surprise album, and now my favorite album by Taylor. I think this album perfectly displays Taylor’s insane lyricism better than any of her works. This album just hit really different for me, every song was my favorite on first listen and I still have the hardest time picking favorite tracks. It’s just beautiful and it’s great and I love it a lot.

↬ SAWAYAMA — Rina Sawayama

⟶ Top tracks: Fuck This World (Interlude), Tokyo Love Hotel, Bad Friend, Comme Des Garçons (Like The Boys)

Have you heard it? If so, you know why it’s on this list. Pop perfection. Rina is a goddess. That’s that. It’s just amazing. Rina is a visionary and this album displays that perfectly. Comme Des Garçons was the first song of hers I ever heard and I was immediately obsessed. Next level, this woman. A queen.

↬ Petals For Armor — Hayley Williams

⟶ Top tracks: Crystal Clear, Why We Ever, Over Yet

Wow. Just, bless Hayley for this. Crystal Clear has quickly become one of my very favorite songs ever and Why We Ever is a little too relatable. And I distinctly remember hearing Over Yet for the first time in May and feeling joy for the first time since the pandemic started. This album is one to listen to when you’re mad, sad, when you need comfort, or when you’re ready to heal. Honestly, another companion.

↬ Nectar — Joji

⟶ Top tracks: Like You Do, Your Man, Sanctuary, MODUS, Run, Mr. Hollywood

I could honestly list nearly every song on this as a top song. Holy shit. Joji is another visionary. He’s insane and I’m obsessed with this album. I swear, every time I listen a new song jumps out as a favorite. Like You Do is a song that just means so much to me. A masterpiece. This album is my go to when I’m looking to get into my feels. Also Daylight isn’t listed in the top tracks but what a fucking bop. I’m just in love with this album. For real, obsessed.

↬ Plastic Hearts — Miley Cyrus

⟶ Top tracks: Angels Like You, High, WTF Do I Know, Midnight Sky, Never Be Me, Plastic Hearts

I’ve never been like an avid listener of Miley, just a few tracks, but this year I got more into her. And this album, goddamn. Every song is a contender for top track. How does that happen? Midnight Sky? Huge for me this year. Like I cannot tell you how massive of an impact this song made on me. Angels Like You is such a perfect song. High is a little too relatable. Just seriously, wow. Kind of speechless, I just adore this album.

↬ Positions — Ariana Grande

⟶ Top tracks: pov, obvious, 34+35

The way I cried my first time hearing pov. Ari what are you doing to me? That song is just such a beautiful way to look at love and this whole album is just so healing. A happy spot on this whole year. 34+35 is a thot anthem and I’m obsessed. This album is just another example of Ariana’s talent and we were all blessed to be able to hear it.

↬ CALM — 5 Seconds of Summer

⟶ Top tracks: Wildflower, Lover of Mine, Best Years, Teeth, High

I don’t care if y’all think it’s cool to like 5sos or not, this album is so fucking good. It far exceeded my expectations. Some of these songs are some of my favorites for the year. Wildflower is a fucking happy pill and Best Years makes me fucking cry. High is too relatable, and Teeth may as well have been written about me. And Lover of Mine perfectly relates to the most important relationship of my entire life. I’m gonna say it, Luke Hemmings is such an underappreciated lyricist. The man is good. I love this album a lot.

↬ Manic — Halsey

⟶ Top tracks: Finally // beautiful stranger, SUGA’s Interlude, Forever … (is a long time), 3am

I never really listen to Halsey so it took me a long time to give this album a try and wow I’m so glad I finally did. It became an instant fav. Honesty, anything Yoongi touches is a favorite for me so obviously that song would be in my tops, but Forever … (is a long time) is so relatable and just so fucking good. And Finally // beautiful stranger is honestly my favorite Halsey song ever. It’s stunning. This album is amazing. Period.

↬ Future Nostalgia — Dua Lipa

⟶ Top tracks: Pretty Please, Cool, Don’t Start Now

This album is just disco pop perfection and I’ve been obsessed all year. It’s the perfect album to listen to when you just wanna fucking dance and forget about all the shit that 2020 gave us. The perfect escape and it’s so so fun and the songs are just bops. I’ve probably listened to this album a hundred times because it’s just the perfect escape. If I wanna let go for a bit, this is my go to.

↬ Punisher — Phoebe Bridgers

⟶ Top tracks: I Know The End, Chinese Satellite, Garden Song

This album makes me feel some shit. Like holy hell we are in our feels. Phoebe’s songwriting is superb and these songs just hit. I honestly only listen to this album when I really need to get in touch with myself because it literally doesn’t allow me to avoid my feelings. But it’s pretty much perfection and I think it’s going to grow with me throughout the years. I just love it. I remember being blown away on my first listen, it’s just unbelievably good.

↬ Ungodly Hour — Chloe and Halle

⟶ Top tracks: Tipsy, Baby girl, Ungodly Hour

I don’t even know how to explain how good this album is. Like, have you heard it? You get it. These girls went the fuck off and all we can do is thank them for it. Thank you for your service ladies. This album is just a vibe from start to finish. And Ungodly Hour is one of the best title tracks of the year. That’s just that on that. Give them all the awards.

↬ IS ANYBODY OUT THERE? — DPR LIVE

⟶ Top tracks: OH GIRL, NO RESCUE NEEDED, KISS ME

This album isn’t just an album, it’s an experience. This man takes you on a musical journey. It’s a story. It’s flawless. I adore it. DPR LIVE is so underrated and I can’t wait for him to get the hype he deserves. This was the most surprising find this year and I’m so thankful I found it. Just so god. From start to finish, you just get sucked in and then it ends and you’re just left like, whoah. Amazing.

#ayyyy i can't sleep so i thought i'd post this since it's been in my drafts for a couple days #bc why not i guess #bullshitting with liv #you could say music was a lifeline more than usual this year #thankful to all the amazing artists who put out music this year #we all needed it #top albums of 2020

14 notes · View notes

the-ever-humming-girl · 4 years ago

Text

Atlantis: Bedside Manner

How had it come to this point? Dr. Sweet wondered. How had things gone so badly so quickly?

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be an open and shut deal. Sign up for another expedition as the team’s medical officer, care for the crew along the way, and get paid a hefty sum upon return. Easy as pie.

He’d done it three years before and it was supposed to be just like the trip to Iceland. Another easy job.

Only it hadn’t been. And things had gone wrong from the start. They’d lost most of their people within the first few hours of starting out, but they’d had to keep going because there was no way back, only forward.

Then they’d kept on losing members of the expedition, week after week. Each creature attack whittling down their numbers a little more.

Then they’d found Atlantis, a real city full of living, breathing inhabitants. And for a moment, in all the excitement of the discovery, he’d forgotten why they were there, what they really come for.

After the discovery of people, he hadn’t been sure how it would end. Some small part of him hadn’t expected Rourke to go through with the plan, though the larger, more practical part knew Rourke would never let go of the idea of stealing a giant diamond.

So, Dr. Sweet had prepared himself to do the other job he’d been hired for; Helping the team collect and retrieve the crystal. He hadn’t understood much of what Milo had tried to explain, that they were after wasn’t a diamond or a battery, but something powerful and arcane, a life force. He’d only understood that what they were doing was wrong and he’d felt like the world’s biggest coward for not speaking out against Rourke.

And when he finally had it had been too late to save the king.

When Rourke had punched the old man, it had been the last straw. Sweet had realized then that no amount of money would be able to ease his conscience if he stood by any longer. And when he’d reminded Rourke that what he’d done wasn’t part of the plan he’d been callously informed that plans changed and that he needed to put a bandage on his bleeding heart.

If he hadn’t been done with it before, Sweet was done with the plan, then. Done with senseless violence against unarmed people. Done with idly standing by. He’d become a doctor to save lives, not take them.

He watched as Milo, Helga, Rourke, and the princess, Kida, had disappeared down into some sort of chamber in an elevator that had been discovered in the middle of the throne room and left the rest of them up top. The remaining the crew had stood uncomfortably and uncertainly by while he’d helped the guards lift the old man to his feet and lay him carefully back on his bed. Then he was seated at the elderly man’s side carefully checking him over. As soon as he opened the old man’s robe and saw the ugly bruising discoloring the skin of his stomach, Sweet knew it was too late. That the internal trauma caused by the blunt force of the punch would kill the king and there was nothing he could do to help.

Sweet wondered how he could break the news that the king of the city was dying?

Behind him there was a rumble, and the floor shook slightly. He turned to see the elevator and its occupants rising back up to the surface and he did a double take when he saw that the princess was no longer human but some sort of blue glowing entity. What in the world had they gotten themselves involved with? Suddenly, Sweet was awfully glad to be so afar away from it - her. Rourke was insane to have seen this, whatever it was, and to still be attempting to steal it.

Milo’s eyes were locked on the princess as the group moved towards what was left of the doors of the throne room and Sweet had to feel for the kid. It had been humorous when they’d all suggested he go and talk to the girl but the two of them had hit it off and seemed quite taken with each other.

It was all going too wrong too fast. The king was dying, the princess, whatever she had become, was being taken to sell to the highest bidder, and he and Milo were the only ones opposing it all.

At his elbow, the king was struggling for breath and Sweet knew he didn’t have long.

One of the guards removed the crystal pendant from around his neck and moved forward to the old king. He bowed in respect, though the old man couldn’t see him, and spoke in his native tongue. He seemed to be asking permission for something. The old king shook his head with great effort and replied with one word. Although Sweet couldn’t speak Atlantean he understood the answer had been “no”.

The guard’s shoulders slumped, and he stepped away from the throne, head lowered in defeat.

Sweet ran a hand down his face and looked at the king. “I’m sorry, your majesty. I can’t help you.” The old king had to know this already, but it was part of being a doctor, breaking awful news.

The king turned his head in his direction, his sightless eyes staring past Sweet.

“My time here is coming to an end. I have known this for some time now.” His words cut off in a wheezing cough. When he’d recovered slightly, he continued. “I must speak with the boy.” He insisted.

Sweet blinked in surprise. The boy. He had to mean Milo; there was no one else. He briefly wondered what the king wanted to say, then he rose. “Of course, your majesty. I’ll go get him.”

He jogged across the raised stones in the water just as a loud explosion echoed in the city. The bridge. He’d forgotten Vinny had rigged it to blow.

When he reached the top of the steps, he was flooded with relief to see the rest of the crew standing with Milo down in the plaza. He felt fiercely proud of them all for doing the right thing and turning against Rourke.

That pride was immediately crushed by the knowledge that Rourke had won and escaped with the princess, and that the king was dying.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and called down to Milo, who was picking himself up off the ground.

“You’d better get up here!”

That said, he turned and jogged back to where the king lay, Milo following close behind.

#30 days of writing prompts #atlantis: the lost empire #joshua sweet #king kashekim #and the world goes 'round #my fanfics #fanfiction.net #ao3

3 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 5 years ago

Text

Nothing but the Truth - Pt.6

The Worst Pre-honeymoon Ever

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4950

Summary: A fake dating AU. “Lying is a delightful thing, for it leads to truth…” (F.Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment)

Warnings: a lot of swearing, implied stalking, creepiness and sick beliefs, violence, torture

A/N: The longest one so far and also the most important one; the very birth of this fic. There you go. Read the warnings, please, even if you usually skip them

Story Masterlist

Considering how messed up you were and what circumstances you found yourself in, it suddenly took you a ridiculously little amount of time to realize what at least one of those machines was.

It was a polygraph.

A lie detector.

What was the questioning going to about you could only guess, because ‘I brought you here to ensure your future commitment to each other can be proper” was as much of a fucked-up clue as it was a useless one.

Your mind was about to kick into an overdrive with morbid fantasies, when a groan caught your attention. Your head instantly snapped to Steve, the source of the pained noise.

He squeezed his eyes tightly, shifting his head back and forth, the motion slow, but with a purpose, as if he was trying to avoid annoying sunrays in the morning.

For a brief moment, you wondered if either of you were about to see the morning sun ever again and the thought made you choke up.

Steve’s eyelids fluttered open drowsily, barely focused eyes searching the room until his gaze fell on you and his eyes widened. His lips whispered your name and despite the tears gathering in your eyes, you gave him a watery smile.

“Hey, Steve,” you creaked and his gaze trailed over your body, pupils dilating so much that they nearly hid all of the cerulean of his irises.

He straightened in his chair; or attempted too, his body probably feeling as heavy as yours when you had woken up; possibly heavier even, with that sicko drugging him with a mixture of sedatives that could have stop his breathing.

“Whatta-“ he rasped, his fingers twitching, more forcefully than you grew accustomed to while being here and his glare found the body part in question with utter confusion – and horror.

“Captain, good to see you awake at last.”

Steve tried to stand up to face the voice, the supposed enemy, but he barely moved at all; the tips of his shoes rose a fraction, his thumbs flexing, his palms rising just an inch before falling back to the armrest helplessly.

His eyes found the man at least, his chin coming to rest on his shoulder to keep it from falling on his chest as the muscles in his neck weren’t able to do their job.

Seeing Steve Rogers in a significantly weakened state was a new and an entirely terrifying thing that shook you to a core. Steve Rogers, Captain America, always strong and ready to swing in to save everyone…. You had seen him bruised before, a fading black-eye maybe, a healing scar on his cheek, but nothing that came even close to this; witnessing his battle to keep his head up, that-- that was fucking scary.

You had never ever been met with a sight of him drained enough not to hold his body straight.

However, determination and anger were written all over his face as his eyes narrowed and it was the only thing which felt familiar about him.

It was the sole thing helping you to maintain a piece of sanity, his attitude shining a ray of hope into the darkness and horror of this godforsaken place when a psycho who hooked up Steve to some machine to deliver periodical electric pulses.

Jesus. Christ.

One simple word, mumbled with difficulty, yet carrying a menace; it broke the silence suddenly and startlingly.

“You,” Steve muttered, glaring at your masked captor.

You blinked simultaneously with Steve; while he was apparently attempting to shake off his drowsiness, you were simply confused.

He… had he had an idea who this psycho was?

Your captor ignored him though and went to seat himself to a chair by the polygraph and one more device, causing your face drain of all colour in a terrifying premonition.

“Now that we are all set-“

“You’re the vendor,” Steve stated, still fighting the effect of sedatives, forcing his muscles to move according to his commands.

The fact that he couldn’t was heart-breaking, but what he called the man behind the mask was downright mind-blowing.

The… the vendor? As if-

The man sighed, a breathless chuckle escaping his lips as he reached for the edge of the mask, pealing it off.

To your undiluted shock, he truly revealed a face of a man who had sold you the ring.

What the actual-- you had found him creepy okay, but not I’m-going-to-kidnap-you-and-torture-you creepy! How—how did he even get to you, how did he overpower a freaking supersoldier, how he moved him anywhere, Steve was a mass of muscle, heavy and this guy was just-

“Nothing escapes your attention, I see,” the unmasked man remarked. “I should have known. There is no point in hiding then. Let’s begin-“

“How did you find us?” Steve demanded and for the first time since you had been back to consciousness, it dawned to you that… this was, in fact, what you had wanted. You wanted the man behind the kidnappings to find you.

You most definitely hadn’t wanted it to come to this¸ but-

Despite feeling like absolute shit, cold and terrified in your very core, you… you forced yourself to stop freaking out that much at least. Your mission was on. This was the plan.

Kinda.

“The tracker in the ring, naturally,” the madman answered almost kindly, one corner of his lips rising.

Your heart nearly gave out; he put a tracker in the ring?! What the fuck?!

And then it hit you; a tracker.

You had two trackers on you now; one in the ring from this psycho, one in the necklace from Tony freaking Stark.

The Avengers must have been on their way already Your eyes fluttered close, relief flooding your veins from the centre of your chest to your fingertips. It would be over soon.

Right?

“Unfortunately, I have to inform you I needed to deactivate the tracking devices in your necklace and belt.”

Your eyes snapped open in horror, finding Steve’s alarmed ones.

What? WHAT?!

Fuck.

No, don’t freak out (again) just yet! Surely Tony freaking Stark had counted on that option, right? Because he was a genius, he-

The pure horror in Steve’s face told you otherwise. No, he hadn’t. At least not that Steve knew of.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK-!!

Steve slowly shook his head, grimacing; he wasn’t one to give up. And spotting the terror on your face, he most definitely was not the one to submit, no, he would be the one to keep your head above water before you could drown in panic.

“Was smart,” Steve muttered, apparently still with difficulty, but more clearly now. You would be delighted that his state improving, except your mind was too busy trying to figure out why the heck did it sound as if he just praised your kidnapper. “So is your profession. You can get the information on new couples first-hand.”

The vendor seemed thoughtful as he nodded, but then a scowl twisted his expression.

“Wouldn’t be my first choice.”

And it finally, finally dawned to your slow brain what was Steve doing. He was stalling. To what end you weren’t sure, but you hoped it meant that the Ironman himself would be able to find you anyway… somehow.

“What… what would be your first choice?” you whispered softly, too scared of setting something in him off by speaking louder.

“Doesn’t matter. I found my purpose now,” he replied, leaning to the machines and you gulped when a spark flied from it.

“And what is the purpose again?”

The man turned to Steve at the question. “I am a servant of love. Of true love. One of faith, trust and honesty,” he declared proudly and you wanted to puke. He sounded fucking insane.

A servant of love? Tell that to the missing couples!

“How do you serve this love?” Steve queried, somehow managing to sound genuinely interested and when the other man hesitated, you held your breath.

“Mm. I protect people from entering a marriage based on lies.”

BY KIDNAPPING THEM AND KILLING THEM?!

Because that was the assumption, wasn’t it? If the couples had disappeared and never reappeared, then they were very likely dead.

Just like you might be in a couple of minutes.

You breathed through the hysteria crawling up your throat, rather holding onto the fact Steve was still trying to do something here. The stalling seemed to be working well.

But for how long? And was the time bought with this enough for the Avengers finding you despite this man’s plots?

“You’re protecting them from the same fate you suffered,” Steve deduced and you winced.

“Yes. I know the pain lies can cause to a man. Love must be pure. When you promise dedication to another person, you must be truly committed to them,” he stated seriously and your head… spun as you slowly pierced together a story of a man with a broken heart and… a broken mind, turning absolutely fucking mad from the betrayal.

Ill, he was ill, mentally, but that didn’t justify his actions in the slightest.

“You were married and your partner has been unfaithful,” Steve guessed, but sounded as if he knew for sure, coming to the same conclusion as you.

“How do you-“ the vendor chuckled then, a watery sound as his own memories must have been brought to life, reopening the wound and rubbing salt in it. “Of course you would figure it out…. She sat in this very chair, you know? With her new fiancé. And she didn’t even love him. She was only after his money. And he didn’t love her either, just enjoying the adventure. Such a shame…”

Your blood crystalized in your veins, icy cold, and not for the first time, your stomach turned all over, its contents threatening to spill from your mouth.

He… had he—he-

“Where is she now?” you quipped, unable to keep the question from spilling from your lips, needing to know the answer and dreading it at the same time.

His smile was blinding as he looked at you. “In eternity.”

A violent tremble shook your body and your eyes closed at their own account, tears welling up and instantly rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m sure I’ll meet her one day and we will be reunited, her soul reaching absolution, her love for me finally purified.”

Well, I hope she reached absolution and you’ll rot in hell, you sadistic psycho. You murdered your ex-wife!

“You had enough answers. I’m gonna ask now. Don’t you dare to lie; lies only bring pain to our loved ones,” he warned you, his voice carrying the echo of his own heartbreak.

To deliver his point, your captor pressed a button on what looked like a primitive remote.

A sharp tingle ran through your body and you jerked in your seat, a startled yelp escaping you.

Steve hissed, apparently receiving the same treatment, but being less bothered by it; or at least aiming to appear like that for your benefit.

It was scarily easy to comprehend what was about to happen. You were about to get a shock treatment for every lie leaving your lips.

Steve’s eyes locked on you, pleading. The message written in them was clear; don’t lie at any circumstances.

You didn’t need to be told twice; you did not want to be punished by fucking electricity, thank you very much.

“Let’s start with low intensity and simple questions…” the man informed you casually, rising from his seat, and walked to Steve right after he set something on the machine. It started humming and his words echoed in your skull, bouncing dully in the space with terrible realization. He was about to turn up the intensity at some point. Jesus fuck. “Do you care for this woman, Captain?”

Steve fought to raise his chin in defiance, looking the man dead in the eye.

“Yes.”

Your captor turned to you, smiling. “Told you I’d start with the easy ones. Isn’t it nice to know the truth? Look at that. No significant changes to the lines.”

You followed his line of gaze, noticing for the first time the outcome of the… testing. The polygraph monitoring yours and Steve’s whatever was writing down lines of low amplitudes. He was right.

And you didn’t give a shit.

You just wanted to-- to be free again and not under the threat of being possibly electrocuted.

He went to switch something on the machine before asking you the same question. “Now… do you care for this man?”

This question indeed was easy; yet, the intense eyes of the man who had your destiny in his hands made it hard for you to breathe and answer.

“Y-yes.”

The scribbling on the paper of the polygraph got madder and your heart honest to God stopped.

What the fuck, you were telling the truth!

Your examiner frowned at the paper. “You’re a nervous one, aren’t you? Don’t worry about that.”

No fucking kidding, you have me connected to a-

“Let’s proceed. Have you ever kissed someone else since you started this relationship?”

“Have you had an intercourse with someone else since you started this relationship?”

These were easy to pass; especially considering that you had started fake-dating Steve only two – three? – days ago.

Was it really so shortly? It felt like eternity.

Then again, you felt like you had been in this creepy-as-fuck dungeon, your heart beating so fast that it might fail any second, for hours. And the period seemingly grew more immense as he turned up the potential punishment with each question.

Where the fuck was Tony Stark when you needed him?! Being fashionably late was not an option right now!

“You’re doing very well so far,” the man praised you both with a satisfied smile and moved to Steve once more; not before he modified the volts again.

You shivered at both his expression and actions. You prayed to Lord that you didn’t come across as lying, the memory of the short but intense warning at the beginning of the questioning still vivid in your mind. And that had been just a taste, the levels were much higher now.

A violent shudder shook your body.

“Have you always been honest about your feelings for her?”

For a brief moment, your brain just… froze.

There was one thing you hadn’t considered about this whole ordeal and that Steve finding out how you felt about him.

The moment you’d be asked that question… you’d either had to lie and get… some shock treatment or you’d have to tell the truth.

There was a saying about a rock and a hard place and you felt like it very much applied right now. Also… what would the man do if you told the truth and said no? He was all about honesty and if you hadn’t been honest with Steve, then there was clearly something wrong; at least according to his messed-up code or some shit.

Fuck rocks and hard places.

“I…” Steve whispered, finding your gaze. One look into his eyes and you realized that he was… torn.

Why was he torn? Did he hate you and never told you or something? That was ridiculous, right? You would have noticed that.

“Yes, Captain?” the man encouraged him.

Steve gulped, locking glares with the man. “Yes.”

The sudden beep nearly made you jump out of your skin and the man sighed, his whole demeanour changing. He eyed you and you couldn’t but frown.

Steve lied. You tried hard not to think about why, but thought about the fact that he did and… and that he was-- he was about to get-

“You don’t— you don’t need to hurt him, he’s-“ you quickly blurted out, panicking more when Steve shook his head behind the psycho with the remote, mouthing ‘don’t’. “-I’m sure it’s only some… misunderstanding.”

Yeah, you could see why Steve discouraged you from speaking.

You sounded utterly stupid and pathetic.

“See, that’s what I thought at first about my late wife. This can’t be happening in an honest relationship. I’m truly sorry about this,” he hummed regretfully, stepping away from Steve.

Your heart was squeezed by a cold fist when you saw the supersoldier – momentarily incapacitated – brace for the pain and your hands balled into fists, nails digging into your palms.

“Wait-“ you called out once more, but the man pushed the button anyway.

Your body was set on fire.

An agonized scream erupted from your chest, but you might have imagined it, because you didn’t have control over anything.

Someone struck a match and threw it on your body drenched in gasoline, igniting every cell, every nerve ending; acid flew through your veins, burning, everywhere, inside, outside, pain, pain, pain- and screams, a voice full of rage and desperation, God, is this hell, searing hot, cries of agony, black and crimson, blinding white of the burning heat, fire, fire and no end in sight, only more gasoline poured in--

You gasped as if you were pulled out from under water and earned a second above surface, greedily swallowing oxygen through your burning windpipe, stinging pressure expanding in your lungs, more, more, Jesus, you needed more-

Your fingertips tingled painfully, the muscles in your forearms spasming, the aftertaste of the unbearable heat it had been through stabbing tiny needles in every cell in your body. You were collapsed in the armchair, limp, unable to control the furious fight for oxygen your body led.

Your vision was blurry, dark spots dancing on its edges, pulsing visibly with each frantic beat of your heart.

The male voice – Steve’s, you realized – was still yelling, menacing and deadly.

“STOP! WHY did you do that to her?!” he demanded heatedly, the cerulean of his eyes swallowed by the darkest fury— and glazed by wetness of welled-up tears. “I’m sorry, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“I told you,” your captor stated coldly and as you tried to focus on him, your mind buzzing loudly with the aftermath of his punishment, you found your own cheeks damp, vision blurred by tears. “Lies hurt the people we love. People we care for.”

“She didn’t do ANYTHING WRONG!” Steve yelled, sitting surprisingly upward for few seconds before he no doubt received his periodic discharge to keep his strength in check and he melted back into the chair with a frustrated grimace, trying to get up the very next second.

“No, she didn’t. You did. Now you know how this works.”

Between your raged breaths and your mind slowly clearing, you swore in your head. Answering this guy’s questions just got hella lot harder. You had not thought you’d enjoy going through that agony ever again, but the thought of putting someone else through it, Steve of all people, that was downright unthinkable.

And fucked up on an entirely new level.

“Now, dear, have you always-“

Staring at Steve’s face, white as the very sheet of paper where the records of his life functions were being written down, screaming thousands of apologies-- something in you snapped and you glared daggers at the sicko of a man who kidnapped you only to do-- this.

“Hey! No, I wasn’t. He was my friend first, have you thought of that? Do you think we just confessed our love to each other the first time we realized it? The first time we realized that we fell for our friend’s friend? No, the answer is one big NO. You bet your fucking ass that I wasn’t honest!” you sputtered at him, leaning forward only the two inches you could.

You hadn’t thought it was possible, but Steve’s face turned even paler as he shot the insane man a look, dreading his reaction.

Okay, maybe you should have considered that Steve might get shocked for your boldness, shit-

But the man in charge only frowned at you, seemingly deep in thought for endless seconds and then he broke into a manic smile.

“I’ll give you this one. You have a point. Very well…”

You sighed in relief; it appeared you wouldn’t find out the consequences of him not liking the truth just yet. Relaxing in your chair, you winced when your forearm spasmed again without your intent.

It wasn’t as painful anymore; but it was incredibly annoying not to be able to control your movements.

The involuntary twitch of muscle didn’t escape Steve’s attention and the deep wrinkle on his forehead which had been the first thing you noticed after— eh, the end of the shock, deepened. His brows were furrowed in concern, the corners of his mouth twisted downward and he just… you had been in agony, alright, it still fucking hurt, but you desperately wanted to give Steve a hug just to erase that troubled expression from his face.

“Moving to another question then. Is there anything you would change about her?”

The look on Steve’s face rivalled one of puppy now – a kicked one. “No.”

“Would you change anything about him?”

“No,” you answered simply, managing a reassuring smile. ‘I’m okay,’ you mouthed and he shook his head, glancing away, his eyes glassy.

You captor nodded for himself. “Back on the right track. One last question then, the most important one…”

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably. It sounded ominous and that was saying something coming from you, considering everything that had happened today.

The machine hummed loudly as the man set the volts to maximum before turning Steve’s direction.

“Do you love her?”

Your heart gave out.

Well, fuck.

It was to be expected, really. It was a perfectly logical question; the man who had your lives in his hands was a self-proclaimed protector of love, claiming to have the duty of ensuring people who were about to get married loved each other unconditionally and with no lie driving a wedge between them.

Yet, hearing the question fall from the madman’s lips paralysed you and filled you with emptiness, numbness settling deep inside your chest.

‘Do you love her?’

Four simple words sealing your fate.

Because no answer Steve could give was the right one, no answer would satisfy the murderer.

And judging by Steve’s expression, he realized that as well.

For several moments, you granted yourself the luxury of your eyelids falling shut, setting your jaw tight to keep your teeth from clattering in fear. You rocked back and forth in the chair, as much as your restraints allowed you to. Tears warmed your cheeks, salty paths of selfish grief, crying for you own life rushing towards its end.

Perhaps Steve could still escape?

You focused on the numbness in your ribcage, letting it engulf you, letting spread it through your mind until all you could think was a blank space.

Only then, you opened your eyes again, meeting Steve’s utterly desperate gaze and you knew, knew that there was no way out of this; no loophole. He had no doubt come to the same conclusion.

The inner turmoil he must have been feeling reflected in his eyes – torn and hurt, dreading what would happen if he told the truth; you both knew what was coming if he lied, you had been through that, but what if he admitted that he didn’t love you? What would this maniac do?

Steve’s jaw was clenched tight, a muscle twitching in what could be irritation. In the terribly silent space, the scribbling of the polygraph grew maddeningly loud, a noise of unbearable volume.

More tears escaped the wells of your eyes, your body trembling violently. You cursed the moment you had said yes to this insanity; you had been so stupid and naïve. Hiding behind doing the right thing, while wishing to be closer to Steve with no consequences to your friendship. How idiotic was that?

And where had that brought you?

To an empty cold room, seconds from being electrocuted.

Because that was what was about to happen, wasn’t it? If Steve said yes, the volts momentarily being set would kill you, no doubt. Lies hurt the people we love. If Steve said no… you were doomed as well, because this psycho was obsessed with the idea of love, it was the very reason why he was doing this. You were not stuck between a rock and a hard place; you were trapped between a death sentence and a death sentence.

Your eyelids slid shut for another moment and you tried your best to shush the sob crawling up your throat.

You were about to die.

Fuck, you didn’t want to die!

“Please, please don’t do this,” a voice whispered into the staccato of the machines, cracking at the plea and your brain barely registered it was your own voice. The shock of the realization caused you to open your eyes again and your gaze fixated on your captor. “Please.”

He shook his head, making his way to Steve, imploring eyes shining with madness and excitement.

“Do you truly love this woman?”

You shook your head helplessly as Steve’s pained gaze found yours, his mouth twisted in a desperate grimace, the cerulean of his eyes speaking thousands of words. Thousands of apologies.

Your quivering lips formed a smile for the briefest moment, one of bravery, to encourage him to speak, to tell him that you didn’t blame him for this mess.

“It’s okay, Steve,” you reassured him softly, choking on a sob, which completely ruined your pretence of actually being strong. But what did it matter? You were a dead woman anyway.

Tears glistened in Steve’s eyes and he shook his head, pressing his lips together. The guilt of pulling you into this – a misplaced guilt – was evident, clearly eating him alive. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly. He lowered his gaze to the floor, ignoring the man who had basically climbed into his personal space.

“Do you love her?“

You saw Steve’s chest expanding vehemently with an inhale and you knew that the moment was here.

“Yes,” slipped past his lips.

In the half-second that followed, your only thought was that Steve wanted you to leave this world thinking he cared about you enough for wanting it to be quick – just one word to end this and deliver the shock rather than telling the truth and waiting for the madman’s response to the revelation.

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears springing out, your body bracing for the unbearable pain and then, hopefully, nothing.

In death, there should be peace, right? No pain? Not for the dead anyway – no, pain was the privilege of survivors; years of friendship with Sam taught you that.

Five seconds passed and your brain was fried.

Not because of electricity coursing through your body, setting aflame everything in its path, no; it was because of the revelation that the only thing burning was your muscles as you had them all flexed to their limit in anticipation of agony.

Agony, which was for some reason still not coming. The discharge was never delivered and with your heart beating with nearly enough force to break your ribcage, your eyes fluttered open with a gasp, swimming in tears.

You tried to focus your blurry vision on the machine that must have circuited somehow, you saw the shadow of the man moving… but when your vision cleared, you saw that everything was still on. The lights didn’t even flicker. The needle of the polygraph continued its steady path.

But—but- how-

Blinking some more, you barely heard your kidnapper praise the result.

Steve- he-- how did he--- he couldn’t possibly- how had he lied to the machine?

Your eyes found his face, his brows furrowed in concern and… guilt? What-

He was fast to avoid your gaze, resignation settling in his features, muscles no longer tensed; as much as he could control them anyway. Only his jaw twitched again, but he refused to look up at you.

Realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

An incredible, unbelievable revelation.

Could he… could he have been telling the truth? Was it-- was it even possible that he might… love you? But-

An incredulous delighted chuckle nearly escaped your lips, but was quickly dissolved when your captor appeared in front of you, smiling brightly, finger on the remote.

“And you… do you love this man? Truly?”

You faced the ceiling as you blinked your tears away, your whole body hurting and yet basking in relief, pleasant sensation seeping into your bones through your skin like the first warm sunrays in the spring.

You’d surely make it out now, alive. The torment would haunt you, yes, but the result… if Steve accepted your answer, this might in fact be a start of something beautiful.

“Steve?” you whispered breathlessly, searching to meet his gaze, because he deserved as much, such a brave, brave man, heart on his sleeve, always doing the right thing.

He risked your rejection – as long as it meant you would live. It might seem like a natural and logical choice, but you had met people who would have most likely chosen the other option. Your ex was one, for god’s sake.

Of course, Steve wouldn’t.

“Steve, look at me, please.��

He stubbornly kept staring at the floor, his hand curling up in a loose fist. You sighed. The machine’s reassurance would have to suffice then; still, your heart sang.

Just as you parted your lips to give your answer, a deafening bang on your right forced you to duck as much as possible while strapped to the chair.

A shock wave of an explosion knocked your chair over, and you were falling-- the pain you had awaited ever since Steve said yes finally coming when your head hit the floor and everything went black.

Part 7

Tags:

@mermaidxatxheart @bobertswagert @kakakatey @ccolz88-blog @joeyrumlow@lovemeterwrites @jessyballet @bellaireland1981

Thoughts, anyone?

I could have had the ‘reader’ confess instead of Steve, but I find this much more fun to write ;) I wanted to try a different dynamic… admit it, you thought it was going to be the other way around :P or did you? Talk to me, please, if you’re willing :-*

#marvel #mcu #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #fake dating #fake dating au #nothing but the truth #anika ann

225 notes · View notes

mrsdobrik · 5 years ago

Text

My Name Jeff - Chapter 4

Everything was dark and silent. She felt the car door opening beside her and could hear the bustling sounds of the busy L.A night. She extended her hand and felt his strong arm, he guided her, still blindfolded, to their final destination. He opened the door and, placing a hand on the small of her back, led her inside. The smell that filled her nostrils felt familiar even if she couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was exactly.

Suddenly her eyes were uncovered and she found herself standing in front of one of her favorite paintings. She looked around till her eyes met her date’s.

“How did you pull this off?” She looked around with tears in her eyes. They were standing in the center of an empty art gallery, a table full of her favorite foods stood before her and the view… the main event was the original of one of Y/n’s favorite paintings. She had mentioned it to Jeff (David) during one of their long phone conversations.

“I know a guy who knows a guy…” David explained.

“Jeff… this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I can’t believe this.” Y/n felt speechless. She stood there admiring the technique and the color for a long minute.

“I thought you might appreciate having a nice view while we eat.” David said, pulling out a chair for her. “And of course answer some questions.”

“Thank you. This is literally insane, like out of a movie.” She uttered the words looking straight into his eyes.

“You’re welcome. Now, question eleven, wasn’t it?” David said

“Right… but don’t act like this is not a big deal. It’s huge. Question eleven is take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.”

“You go first” David spoke with panic in his voice.

“Okay… so… I was born here in California. Have two much younger sisters, Alana is 9 and Emily is 7. Alana was born with a heart deficiency that has required a lot of expensive surgeries and treatments over the years which have left my family in pretty severe debt. I started working when I was sixteen to help pay those bills and I busted my butt to get a full scholarship. That same scholarship requires me to keep my grades up so my college experience has basically been studying and working and working some more. I have two jobs, one as a barista at a coffee shop near campus and one at an art gallery just doing paperwork. I’ve loved art for as long as I can remember and I basically taught myself how to do it, I was never formally trained till I started college. So basically my life this far has been work, school and caring for my sisters.”

“I’m sorry.” David whispered, taking her hand in his over the table.

“It’s not your doing.” She shrugged. “Your turn”

“I was born in Slovakia, I moved to Illinois when I was six. I have 3 younger siblings, Ester, Sara and Toby. I spent most of my childhood and teen years living in a suburb of Chicago called Vernon Hills. When I finished high school I took one semester of community college before realizing it wasn’t for me and I moved to L.A with a bunch of friends.” He told his own story, just leaving out the past five years.

“And so… sociology? Photography?” She questioned.

“I’ve always loved taking pictures of my friends, capturing the moments we spend together. Photography is just a cool name for that.” He once again told a half truth. “Sociology is not really my thing.” He scratched the back of his neck.

She smiled at him. “Question 12?”

“Go” He smiled back.

“If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?” She asked.

“Time travelling” They replied in unison. They both thought back on their first date, noticing About Time was both their favorite movie.

“Thirteen. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I would like to know if I’ll ever find like… the love of my life or something like that.” He replied nervously.

“That’s funny, that is the one thing I would never want to know.” She chuckled. “It’s like… what if the answer is no? Is a life where you know you will never find love worth living?”

“You’re right. What would you want to know?” David asked deep in thought.

“That my sister’s life will be a happy one. How long she lives matters, but to me the quality of that time is more important.” She answered candidly.

David gave her a sad smile.

“Let’s move on” She sighed, discreetly drying a small tear of the corner of her eye. “Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?”

“I would like to be a late night host some day. I haven’t done it because the chance hasn’t presented itself yet, but I’m working on it.” He chuckled. “What about you?”

“I would love to have one of my paintings exhibited at a gallery. I haven’t shown them to anyone because… I’m scared of rejection, of what might happen if I’m told I’m not good enough. My art has been my escape, the one thing keeping me sane through the tough patches so I don’t want that relationship to be ruined.”

“Wait, no one has seen your paintings? Not even your family?”

“Nope, no one. Just my teachers and only for assignments, never anything personal.” She shook her head with a small smile. “Next question: What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?”

“You go” David deflected.

“Getting that scholarship probably” She said.

“Mine would be… probably getting that painting for the full night.” He chuckled.

“That is no small feat! I’m honestly still in awe that you pulled it off!” She laughed. “What do you value most in a friendship?”

“Loyalty,” David said.

She replied with a “Same here. What is your most treasured memory?”

“This is getting deep. I honestly don’t know! Probably coming here to America when I was six and surprising my mom. She thought I would be flying in the following week.” He smiled at the memory.

“Wait so you flew here by yourself? You must have been so scared!”

“I totally was, but I’ll never forget that day. Yours?”

“Any Christmas we got to spend together as a family” She recalled.

After that they gave up on the questions for the night and David asked Y/n why she loved the painting so much. She told him the story of the artist, how he was considered insane and ended up painting from a mental hospital. Then she told him about the painting itself and what each of the objects that appeared in it represented.

David loved hearing her talk about art, her eyes glimmered with excitement and her voice became more certain. You could tell she was in her element, you could literally see her passion when she talked.

After dinner they went for a walk, hand in hand they strolled down the streets talking, kissing and laughing till their feet hurt. David’s hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her softly, the taste of chocolate and strawberries was still on her lips. His free hand settled on the small of her back, pulling her close to him. As he pulled away he saw her face, her smile and felt a pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t forget that he was lying to her, he felt disgusted by his own actions and started wondering how he would ever be able to tell her the truth without hurting her, without losing her forever.

“Are you okay?” She sounded worried, her brows were furrowed in perplexity.

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s getting late. I should take you home.” He said, breaking his train of thought.

“Umm… okay…. Did I do something wrong?” She pushed, bewildered by the sudden change.

“No, not at all. I just remembered something…”

“Oh god, you are going to ghost me, aren’t you?” Y/n spat out nervously.

“No, I would never do that. We are fine, I promise.” David chuckled, caressing her cheek.

“Okay” She smiled.

David dropped her off without a kiss goodnight. He could feel himself getting closer to her, especially since they started playing the questions game. She was being honest and real and every answer he gave was a half truth. He was in deep, the only question left was whether he could find his way out.

He drove for a few more minutes before pulling over. With shaking hands he pulled out his phone and called the one person he knew would give him the most shit but who was his one hope to get out of the fucked up situation he had gotten himself in.

“Dave? What’s wrong? It’s like 2am” Jason said on the other side of the line.

“I need your help.”

#david dobrik #david dobrik x you #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik imagine

17 notes · View notes