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alexkellersgymshorts · 1 year

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Misguided Revenge - Chapter 1

Alejandro Vargas x Rodolfo Parra

Sadistic Omega Rodolfo Parra x Hurt Alpha Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro Vargas has a lot of issues. A fuck ton of issues. But, he's an alpha, he's strong. He can handle them. Even if he occasionally goes off the deep end and ends up involuntarily hospitalized. Even if during one of these, he ends up being unable to be there for his best friend, Rodolfo Parra, while he's brutally attacked. But, he's working on them.

And he's strong, he can handle them.

Warnings: ABO, torture, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, manipulation, gore

Alejandro was more than grateful to be being discharged.

The nurse, a fairly nice one, smiled at him. She was an omega, but… she’d seen Alejandro puke his guts out after a delusion, so he wasn’t trying to charm her. “Ready to go?”

“More than.” Alejandro responded, smiling. “Ready to be out of here.”

“Well, let me go get your discharge papers and your prescription, alright? You should be out of here in just a few moments.” She then left, not really saying anything else.

What was her name? Ellie? Annie? Was he horrible for not knowing? Did he care if he was?

Whatever.

17 years old and he had had to go to rehab. This was… more than embarrassing. He could only imagine what his father was going to say. “ You’re an alpha. More than that, you’re a Vargas. You should be stronger than this. ”

He wasn’t. He wished he could be. He wished that one fight with his best friend hadn’t triggered him into an episode. Fuck, how was he going to lie about this to Rodolfo?

Rodolfo, a sweet but stern omega, would definitely not understand. How would he? Alphas were meant to be strong, they were meant to be able to handle this shit. He’d always tried to appear strong in front of Rodolfo. Rodolfo had enough shit going on at home, he didn’t need to know that Alejandro was a psychotic freak.

Well, or rather, Bipolar. Who cared what the label was, though? It had sent Alejandro spiraling into delusions because his best friend had started to cry. Rudy had cried because Alejandro had accidentally yelled at him. Rodolfo hated crying, he rarely did it, so the sight had nearly broken Alejandro.

He knew it was just because Rodolfo’s heat blockers and birth control had made him more emotional, lately, but still. Alejandro had felt so fucking guilty, so he’d spiralled into self hatred and pain. Next thing he was cutting and then he was so convinced that Rodolfo hated him, that everyone hated him, and…

Well, he’d been involuntarily committed to a mental rehabilitation facility by one of his teachers. Two weeks of convincing them he was fine, that he didn’t need to be there. He’d finally convinced them that he could leave by promising to take the medication they prescribed him.

He looked up when he heard someone enter the room, tilting his head. “Valeria?” They were… sort of friends. She was an alpha and, while she was a complete asshole half the time, she was the closest friend Alejandro felt like he had.

She avoided his eyes. “I… I… I uh, told your parents I’d come get you. I have bad news…” She had a green folder in her hands, presumably Alejandro’s discharge packet.

Alejandro frowned and tilted his head. “What do you mean?” He asked, standing and going to her to take the packet from her. Honestly, he hated to admit it, but she was closer to a sister to him. They’d both been there for each other through intense lows. She knew about how he was in love with Rodolfo and she’d never pushed him to go for it, though she’d never said he shouldn’t, either.

Valeria seemed to hesitate, which was an odd look on her. “Rodolfo, he…” She paused and then shook her head. “The night you were admitted, he was… attacked. Someone broke into his family’s home. He’s… gone, Alejandro.”

“Dead?!” Alejandro panicked, immediately, shaking his head. “No-”

“No, no,no.” Valeria quickly said, shaking her head. “No. He’s alive, as far as I know. He disappeared two days ago… The police said he definitely ran. They think he ran to the US, his mom mentioned he had friends up there.”

Alejandro furrowed his brows before feeling cold seep into his body. “He… He left? He didn’t even say goodbye…”

“Did he know you were in here? I mean, he got attacked and you, to him, disappeared.” Valeria touched his arm, but he shook her hand off. “Alejandro-”

“Where’s my phone?” Alejandro asked, going to the bag of things that he’d had to give up when being admitted. Shoelaces, hoodie strings, his phone… He got it out and turned it on, desperately looking through it and then his heart was breaking as he saw that Rodolfo had texted him.

How could you do this to me?

Oh, Alejandro, you fucking idiot… He needed you, and you were stuck in here… Alejandro sank to the floor, staring at his phone. How could you do this to me?

Valeria came over and crouched down, taking the phone. “Maybe… Maybe if you text him, he’ll answer?”

Alejandro numbly nodded and took it back when she held it out, texting Rodolfo. But… it wouldn’t go through. Why would it? He’d probably blocked him. As he should, Alejandro had failed to be there for Rodolfo, he’d failed to protect him.

How could you do this to me? How could he?

Alejandro thanked the barista as she held out the coffee to him, sipping it as he left the store. His friend, Ghost, joked that he was “basic” for drinking iced coffee, but it tasted good and Alejandro wasn’t going to feel bad for enjoying it.

Besides, Ghost had stopped, lately, after he’d gotten caught saying that shit in front of the cute cafe owner that he’d been trying to impress. He had such a silly name… Soap? Well, he supposed Ghost was rather silly of a name, too, but Alejandro had gotten used to Ghost, he supposed.

Soap was a very sassy but funny omega, and Ghost, who was an alpha, had been trying to hide the obvious crush he had on him, but Alejandro knew the truth. He could see the way Ghost lit up around Soap… It was nice to see. Ghost hadn’t been that interested in anyone besides Alex and Alejandro in a while, and even there, his interest in the latter two was clearly purely platonic.

Speak of the devil. He looked at his phone and saw that Ghost was calling him. Sighing, he answered it, since it was likely about their classes the next day. All three, and Alex’s alpha friend, Farah, and Valeria, who had followed him to the US, had plans to meet up for drinks. Well, everyone but Farah would be drinking.

He answered the phone, smiling. “Ghost, hermano! Why did you call?” It was silly, but apparently Ghost was touched that Alejandro called him hermano, so Alejandro used it as much as possible.

Ghost… had a horrible backstory. Alejandro felt awful for the other alpha, so despite his quirks, he tried to be there however he could. Ghost never took advantage of it, though, even when he definitely could. Hell, the problem seemed to be the opposite where Ghost refused to accept it, even when he should.

For instance, he couldn’t work. Trauma induced psychotic tendencies did that to you. He had hallucinations, delusions… Worse than Alejandro did. Way worse. Now, he lived off money from his deceased parents’ estate, but before they died, in a rather tragic way, he lived off of welfare. (And Alex and Alejandro forcing him to accept money.) One month, it was delayed by two weeks, which was… honestly ridiculous. But, thanks to a concert that Ghost had decided to go to, the month before, he had no money. And, no food.

Alex and Alejandro had to borderline beat him into letting them buy him groceries, and even there, he’d complained the entire trip.

“Hey.” Ghost answered. This wasn’t odd, just how he was. “I was seeing if we’re still on for tomorrow?

“Of course,” Alejandro answered, reassuring him. Alex had apparently overheard him telling his therapist that he was worried that Alex and Alejandro would one day just decide to quit being his friend and ditch him, so they did their best not to cancel plans. “I think Val might be late, one of her classes got shifted by ten minutes.”

“That’s fine, she’s usually late, anyway.”

“Well, extra late, then.” Alejandro chuckled, softly. Valeria usually was late. “Hey, is Alex home?”

Alex owned an apartment and so Ghost had moved in after his parents died. Alex had used the excuse of hating paying for utilities as well as a mortgage and had asked Ghost to alleviate that. Both had agreed it was best Ghost have someone around and Alejandro only had a one bedroom.

“ No, he’s out. I think he mentioned groceries or something. ”

Alejandro nodded in understanding, before realizing Ghost couldn’t see him nod. “Oh, okay. Well, when he comes back, tell him I wanna show him something. I found a really old video game at a thrift store.”

“ Oh, cool. Sure, I will. ”

Alejandro smiled, sitting on a bench and watched people pass by on the sidewalk. “How have you been feeling? Any better?”

“Yeah, sort of. I guess.”

“You guess?” Alejandro frowned, now concerned.

“ My therapist won’t set up another appointment. ”

That didn’t sound good. Alejandro was now deeply concerned, deciding to prompt for more information. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. It’s not a big deal, I didn’t need therapy, anyway. She just… won’t answer my calls. Laswell says she knows her, so I think she was going to ask why.”

“That’s good that she’ll ask. Maybe she’s having an emergency?” Alejandro offered.

“ Maybe. I have to go, my take away just got here. ”

“Alright.” Alejandro sighed, knowing better than to try to find an excuse to stay on the call. “See you tomorrow?”

“ Yeah. ” Click.

Alejandro took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. He was grateful he wasn’t Alex, apparently his other best friend, Farah, had similar problems. He’d barely gotten a small amount of her story and it already rivaled Ghost’s. According to Alex, he beat her, but only just.

He didn’t mind being there for Ghost, but he was always so worried about him. Always terrified what might make him snap and end it. Or, try to. Hopefully, Alex would be there to stop it.

Valeria texted him, suddenly. Hey, I have to cancel for tomorrow. This fucking teacher is incompetent and moved the class even further. I doubt I’ll make it.

Hate these fucking teachers. Why are they allowed to do this, but we can’t even miss a class?

I don’t fucking know. Apparently, we’re free to miss it if we have another class but we have to prove it. I’m fucking 21, I shouldn’t have to fucking prove that I’m missing class for a good reason like a fucking toddler.

Alejandro laughed, definitely agreeing. No, we shouldn’t. I’ll let the others know. God, we need a groupchat.

No we don’t. Dealing with you sending me random memes is enough. I don’t need Alex sending them, too.

That was fair, Alex did send a fuck ton of memes. Alejandro didn’t bother to respond, since neither of them really felt the need to, and put his phone away, deciding he’d text them later. Instead, he continued to enjoy his coffee, sitting back against the bench.

As he relaxed, he people watched, though not much. He felt odd staring at people and… well, he’d been in treatment for a while, but sometimes, he started to get delusions and… well, he just didn’t really want to deal with that, today.

Of course, then his eyes fell on Soap, the cafe owner that Ghost was interested in. He was… very recognizable. He was on the husky side, for an omega, and he had this ridiculous mohawk that was, currently, long and braided. His style was also pretty distinct, akin to a trash rat. That is, his clothes were usually tattered and full of holes.

He appeared to be coming out of a department store, carrying bags, and Alejandro recognized one of the other two omegas who were with him rather easily. Kyle Garrick, though everyone called him Gaz. He was Alex’s situationship, though Alejandro didn’t get why Alex wouldn’t just take him off the market.

It was so obvious the omega was head over heels for him, but… well, Alejandro supposed Alex had his hands full with Farah and Ghost. Even still, Alex shouldn’t miss out on a good thing just because of his friends.

He knew Farah and Ghost would feel horrible if they found out. Farah appeared to adore Gaz, she had also been pushing for them to be together…

He shook it off, since it wasn’t really his business. Curious, he looked at the third omega, though his back was to Alejandro. He was a bit smaller than the other two. Only just shorter than Soap, but definitely smaller in build, and definitely shorter than Gaz, who was tall for an omega. Fuck, he was tall for an alpha, 6’. He was also wearing a long sleeved forest green shirt that fit his figure well and dark wash skinny jeans. Conservative but… still attractive.

Soap and Gaz seemed to both be trying to beg him for something, Soap’s hands together and pleading. He could see the omega shake his head a few times before his shoulders dropped and, from the relieved look on Soap’s face, he appeared to give in. Soap grinned and then all three were turning in Alejandro’s direction and-

His breath caught in his chest as his mind immediately recognized Rodolfo. He was slightly different, now. His hair was longer and his features were much more mature than they’d been four years previous.

They locked eyes and Alejandro to remark on how… dark they’d gotten. They’d always been dark, but now, they looked almost black. His heart pounded in his chest, he couldn’t breathe. He found himself standing to cross the street to the omega, wanting to confirm it was him.

Rodolfo, himself, appeared almost frozen in place, staring at Alejandro. He couldn’t read his expression, he wasn’t sure he wanted to… God, he was right there, he was right in front of Alejandro.

Alejandro stepped off the curb, but right as he did, Rodolfo was turning and running off, Soap and Gaz appearing to immediately follow him. He felt himself start to deflate as he watched Rodolfo run off. He couldn’t blame him, he doubted Rodolfo had forgiven him, yet.

How could you do this to me? He’d never forgotten that text. Hell, he’d get it tattooed to remind himself that he was a failure. His friend had been hurt and he’d abandoned him… Because he couldn’t keep his stupid problems under control.

Despite it being four years, the guilt had never lessened, and he doubted it ever would.

#Alejandro Vargas #Rodolfo Parra #Alpha Alejandro Vargas #Omega Rodolfo Parra #Alejandro Vargas x Rodolfo Parra #Alpha Alejandro Vargas x Omega Rodolfo Parra #Omegaverse #Sadistic Rodolfo Parra #Dead Dove Do Not Eat #Bipolar Alejandro Vargas #alejandro cod #rodolfo cod

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mythvoiced · 7 months

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-. wenzhe-core (pt. 4 tbh pt. 4 was gonna be qianru-centric but i'm moving it to pt.5)

really disappointed if the 'jason derulo' or pitbull yell is missing from the song, he will go :O >:|

one of the taller muses on this blog (excluding muses like nathaniel & hermes who are Tall™ to make them a lil Uncanny; Hermes is the tallest muse btw) but wants to be the little spoon So Bad

has absolutely broken a pair of glasses by sitting on them

if he takes a really, really deep breath and just sort of holds it with an unreadable expression then he's very much counting to ten in his head

can't do the thing where you wet your fingers to flip a page better because if his wet finger comes in contact with anything papery he'll do a full body visceral shudder

pray that he never accidentally drop his ice cream he's not mentally built to go through that and i am not even joking oh my god

there's a good chance he'll cry or sort of dissociate due to the ferocity of his reaction if you kiss his forehead

his whole thing is mostly Very Casual & Relaxed & Assertive on the outside but so i so close to spiraling at all times

phone always on at night, notifications always on, if you call him in the middle of the night he will pick up

the babygirlification of xu wenzhe

he's that tiktok of the guy bemoaning the fact that he's 6'3 but wants to be dainty and babied

'who's that pokemon?' 'IT'S PIKACHU' 'it's clefairy!' 'FUUCK'

if he's muttering classic vines under his breath that's fine don't worry he's all right just wenzhe in his natural habitat

absolutely genuinely and in all seriousness: what the hell is eurovision, do they... do they look at? at the world from an european angle?? i'm-?? it's colonialism and the roman catholic church, babes, what is there to look at

NO it's frankenstein's MONSTER, the SCIENTIST is frankenstein, that's NOT THE MONSTER'S NAME--

you will NEVER... NEVER catch this man(?) confessing his feelings to someone

in response to the question 'what are your pronouns': why what are you saying about me

will pronounce things wrong with his whole entire chest

pretty much anti-discovering anything new about himself

a few 'Oh That's Very Wenzhe' shots of his manga fc: here, here, here

born to "haiii uwu <33" forced to "yo wsg"

would you still love me if i was a worm

what? no, it's not neurodivergency i'm just quite literally The Worst Person To Ever Exist

a few more 'Oh That's Very Wenzhe' shots of his manga fc: here, here, here

what? no, why would i go home? i'm perfectly fine, i don't get sick- (nasal voice, half-hunched-over, sweaty, wheezes after having taken only two steps, hallucinated two separate cats out of the corner of his eye)

smart kid highschool wenzhe voice: copying my homework costs two weeks of snacks, copying from tests can go up to a month of snacks-

someone: gosh he's so tall and he looks so cool and mysterious i wonder what he's thinking about; wenzhe's brain: hi- hi- welcome to starbucks, what can i get for you, a pink drink? hm, is that your idea of being funny? what're you gonna get then? ... a pink drink. hm~ what size? a medium. mm-mm, i don't know what that is. it's like between a small and a larg- ssh, mm-mm, no; we go by tall, grande, and venti here? most people know that. oh, do i look like most people, sweetheart? absolutely not. hm, that was a little condescending, don't you think? was it? yeah. cool! ... can i get a name for your order?

#;ooc #the guilty;about #IT NEVER ENDS that yu qianru centric one i will also post at one point sooner or later #thank you for indulging me and this malewife failgirl #i put this in the queue bc i ran out of posts omg #;queue

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kait16xo · 1 month

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Dance Moms: A New Era Thoughts (Ep 3)

This episode thinned the hell out of my patience so this is gonna be fun!

Spoilers under the cut :)

* Something about asking a child if her teacher is toxic bc her mom said so gives me the ick idk why

* Leilah’s so precious I wanna put her in my pocket

* Mina’s literally that girl and I love that for her

* They cut the beetlejuice solo but showed it in promos…there is no god

* Glo forcing Lisa to actually be a mom…ijbol

* Oh yay…pointe for a young child…how exciting 😁 /s

* OMG THEY HAVE MOUTH CAPSULES FOR MAKEUP I LOVE INCLUDING THOSE IN MY ROUTINESSSSS

* KAELI’S HERE I KNEW IT!! Ugh this makes me so happy

* Omg her voice is like velvet. I love listening to her

* Bellatrix getting her intro in episode 3 is genuinely insane oml

* I feel so bad for Bellatrix’s brother because I would HATE sharing my room with my 11 year old sister as someone who’s almost an adult

* I like that Kaeli is clearly challenging Audrey instead of gushing over her. Take notes Glo.

* Ashlan has spent like every episode crying I- Kendall has competition

* Smiley’s mom hit the nail on the head lol. Ballet is literally the foundation of dance and even if you don’t like it, it is SO important for your development as a dancer….

* “I need coffee” *drinking a cherry coke* has the exact same vibes as me saying “I need a beer” and drinking apple juice

* Some people really shouldn’t have kids and Lisa is exhibit A. Jesus Christ…

* “I’m portraying Sabrina Carpenter” werk actually

* Yeah idk why Ashlan was casted for this show 💀 she was not meant to be a comp dancer whatsoever and that’s not even meant to be hate

* Bella in the background while Ashlan’s throwing a fit about her mom is fucking sending me into a spiral lol

* “Ashlan’s the one calling the shots, that’s not the way it goes” “I learned that the hard way 👀 “ LMAO me too queen

* I REALLY don’t think Audrey should be competing pointe. It’s clearly causing her pain and stress—and don’t get me started on kids being en pointe.

* Kaeli being aware of the fact that Audrey isn’t perfect and her mom isn’t is making me giggle a lil bit. Kaeli? More like Slay-eli.

* “Is this how Sabrina Carpenter would act” this line is so unserious bahaha

* I do not wanna see Ashlan get compared to Maddie, Kendall, or GiaNina because they were all much more behaved than Ashlan. Her behavior definitely has a lot to do with her mom but jesus christ someone make this kid face the consequences of her actions 😐

* “My mom is abusing me” omg Abby would’ve literally tore this child in half 💀 your mom doing your hair is not abuse sister. If anything you’re abusing her

* She is 11 why is she practically shaking booty I- anyways I missed this song

* I fully thought that Audrey hurt her foot being on pointe too soon but holy shit this is why they don’t need so much crew backstage 😐 I actually cringed at that

* Kaeli getting yelled at by her mom when she’s a grown adult makes me giggle. But Kaeli *is* kinda being a bitch like she’s not talking about a 12 year old…

* “I danced on a broken foot for a month” GIRL SHE’S 12 YOU’RE 23 WHAT WAS THE POINT IN SAYING THAT?!

* Omg bellatrix is finally getting rights. Slay!

* This has to be one of the fake competitions because how tf did they get to reblock the whole number outside of the wings

* The juxtaposition of Audrey being taken to the ER while the dance is on stage is so funny to me

* The capsules were so disappointing 😔 I got so excited but they barely did anything :(

* “I think Sabrina Carpenter’s gonna be real happy with me” 🎤 I wanna know her thoughts bc I feel like she would’ve been forward blank staring the whole time during your dressing room fit

* Aww Bellatrix happy crying ❤️ top of the pyramid for u queen

* Kaeli…why the fuck do you genuinely want a child whose bones are still developing to dance on a broken foot. Regardless of whether Audrey was playing up the injury or not, she should be allowed to rest and they can deal with her later. At that point you’d be risking the group’s success by putting an injured child on stage

* Their chant is so cunty omg I love. Like it’s got RHYTHMMM

* This next episode preview is wild why tf is there already a physical altercation

Anyways since I’m done is now a good time to plug my ALDC instagram? Kaitplusfaves—I post yearbook pages, reused dances/costumes, and more.

#dance moms #dance moms a new era #dance moms spoilers #dance moms a new era spoilers #studio bleu #gloria hampton #glo hampton #kaeli ware #bella tenaglia

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starsxblazing · 9 months

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You're Losing Me

a/n: this one hurt to write but I couldn't resist some angst

Warnings: implied suicide

Part 2 - Part 3

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You braced your hands on the back of the couch, gripping it so tight that the whites of your knuckles were showing. Azriel mirrored your glare, his eyes never leaving yours in the now tense silence. He had never raised his voice in a disagreement but the topic at hand pissed him off more than anything that you had ever seen. Even a failure in his missions didn’t bother him this bad. It had become an argument any time you were in your apartment alone from prying eyes and ears.

“Is this really the route you want to take, Azriel?” you asked, a growl lacing into the words of your question.

“You have become completely insufferable!” he snapped in answer. “All that you do is worry about yourself and it’s pathetic at this point.”

“Good to know,” you snapped back as he strode to be in your face, towering over you. “I’m the pathetic one when you’re the one that is never around anymore? The one that has completely forgotten about me? About our relationship?”

“Your lack of empathy is astonishing,” he countered with a snort. “She is trying to live a life that isn’t secluded in that godsdamned library!”

“And you think that I don’t need you!? You’re never here anymore and I hardly ever see you!” You were yelling now while forcing your tears down by dissociating the most that you could so you could continue the conversation. “Do you not love me anymore?”

“Of course I do.” His tone suggested everything but his half-assed declaration. “But I refuse to continue listening to your selfish nagging any longer!”

“Ok,” you replied, being sure that your tone matched a submissive compliance. “I will drop it.”

You were losing the best thing that came into your life and had been for months. There was nothing that you could do about it.

How can you say that you love someone you can’t tell is dying

I sent you signals and bit my nails to the quick

My face was gray but you wouldn’t admit that we were sick

You weren’t particularly excited about the ball that you didn’t have a choice to go to. The dress that Mor had put you in had you exposed, as always, but you didn’t care one way or the other. Your nerves were broken and frayed from your argument with your mate, your stomach turning in heartbreak and despair. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the entire Inner Circle knew about what was going on and it made you feel worse as Mor finished your look by doing your hair.

Schooling your face into neutrality was easy whenever you stepped foot through the doors into The Court of Nightmares, your ability to sever your feelings coming to your advantage. It had been your High Lord and Lady that insisted that you walk behind them between Elain and Nesta since you were their second option for placating Eris about the alliance. You weren’t crazy about the idea since you had escaped from Autumn Court after Under the Mountain.

Rhysand had graciously taken you in and the mating bond had snapped immediately upon meeting Azriel. There had been no time for a mating ceremony with the impending war but you were thankful for it at this point. As you were standing next to Elain and with Azriel menacingly watching the crowd, your betrayal and resentment only rose and sent you spiraling into depression. The mask that you wore didn’t budge despite your feelings.

“Dance with me.” You looked up at Cassian who had discomfort and anger written in his eyes as he held a hand out to you. “Can’t let you stand around doing nothing but glaring at these pricks.”

You almost grinned in relief before your eyes moved to Azriel and his new love interest who was now Rhysand’s new permanent healer on the dance floor after taking her in after her horrible circumstances that traumatized her. Nausea filled you at the sight and your soft spot for Cassian disappeared, knowing that he knew judging by the pity in his eyes that you didn’t want. The male's eyes moved and were trained on Nesta throughout the dance and you realized that the dance was his way of being close enough to watch.

Had you not been in the one place that needed a mask, you would have lost the contents of your stomach right then and there while your lack of self worth consumed you. A second dance started but you were abandoned by the male that was supposed to be your friend so that he could interrupt Eris. You raised an eyebrow while staring at them but you almost scoffed when the heir to Autumn court’s eyes narrowed in on you.

“I suppose since you were abandoned, you now need a new dance partner,” he chuckled as he took in your scowl, placing a kiss on the back of your hand when you extended it to him.

“How kind of you.”

You rolled your eyes which earned you a mischievous grin in return. Despite your half-assed attempts of learning to dance, it came easy with him leading you. It was easy to see that he had many things that he wanted to say and you scrunched your nose at him.

“You are much more pleasant to look at.” Your eyes widened at what you supposed was a compliment. “Autumn colors would look much better on you.”

“I’ve found that orange isn’t my color,” you scoffed but was thankful that he didn’t realize that you were originally from his court.

“Any color could be your color if you wore the right thing.”

“You, Eris Vanserra, are a shameless flirt.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked with a dark chuckle. “I could always whisk you away from here.”

“I’d prefer to not be bothered with your father.”

You rolled your eyes as the next dance began, surprised that you were enjoying the compliments and attention that you hadn’t gotten in months. It wasn’t a secret in the Inner Circle about what the heir was up to but it wasn’t enough for you to consider it. A quick spin had your eyes briefly meeting eyes with your mate whose eyes showed that he was close to exploding in anger and jealousy. Despite it being a petty move, you moved closer than you had been to Eris which had him gripping your waist to keep you there.

Had you not been mated and devastatingly heartbroken, you may have entertained him to some extent. It only hurt your heart even more as you remembered that you hadn’t even been properly claimed and not many knew that you even had a mate. A sudden urge to get away from the male filled you when you remembered that his father was responsible for the loss of everything and everyone that you loved, that you had been so devastatingly alone that you had happily moved courts.

Azriel had helped in mending your broken heart and was now the one shattering it. The pain only increased when you noticed that Cassian had handed Nesta over to your mate before he broke up your third consecutive dance with Eris and pulled you off to the side beside Mor. You dropped your shields that you had been holding tightly in place just enough for Ryhs to let the three of you hear the conversation taking place with their alliance partner.

You were surprised to hear that he was willing to marry either you or Nesta in exchange for whatever the High Lord wanted and with anything that would or could happen, you wondered if maybe it would be a convenient circumstance. Not wanting to hear anymore, you slammed your mental shields back up, double checking that the mating bond was also shielded.

The ball felt as if it went on for the entirety of the night and you finally made your way to the river house with the people who were supposed to be your family. Gifts were exchanged and it was all that you could do to keep a forced smile that you hoped was genuine enough. With the way that Nesta kept glancing at you at your spot beside Lucien, you assumed that it wasn’t but no one else paid you any mind as usual over the last few months. You felt as if you were at your breaking point when there was no gift from your own mate but you pushed it deep down in hopes to enjoy the night despite your spiraling.

You left before everyone else, unable to keep your facade up and you were thankful at that point that no one paid you much attention. It was the early hours of the morning when you awoke and noticed that Azriel’s side of the bed was cold. It was nothing new but a twisting in your gut had you returning to the river house. Your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight of your mate standing too close to the court’s new healer that almost led to a kiss. It was cut short as you almost emptied your stomach but held it back when you felt the slightest touch of Rhysand’s power. Azriel had taught you enough about sneaking and spying that you were easily able to get close enough to the office window to eavesdrop.

“And what of Y/N?” Rhysand asked, earning a barely audible growl from your mate.

“What if the Cauldron chose wrong?” Azriel countered. “Why should I be mated to an insufferably jealous female?”

“Maybe because she has every right to be,” Rhys snapped. “You’ve proven that tonight.”

“The Cauldron was wrong. I know it was,” Azriel insisted.

“Go home to your own mate and stay away from her.”

“You can’t order me to-”

“I can and I am.”

You had heard enough, crying silently as you jumped down, emptied your stomach and darted home. Everything that you loved and cherished had been ripped from you and you knew that nobody would tell you about what transpired or anything else that they had seen.

The air is thick with loss and indecision

I know my pain was such an imposition

It was simple to throw a ward around your apartment, determined to not be bothered by anyone. You leaned against the bathtub, sobbing your eyes out while staring at the dagger in your hand and thickening the barrier against your bond.

Azriel, pissed with his High Lord, sat on the balcony on the House of Wind, refusing to go home to hear more nagging. He had fallen in love with another female and couldn’t help but truly feel like fate had gotten everything wrong even though he had always wanted a mate. The hours ticked by as he indulged in the amber liquid on the table beside him before he suddenly felt uneasy. He pulled on the bond just to check on you and to see if you would answer despite your constant shield against it that had been in place for months now. There was no reply and he was unable to ease the way that his gut twisted so he took to the sky to check on you at your apartment.

He was shocked to find that it was warded well enough that he was unable to break through it, leaving him to frantically call for Rhysand mentally. Cassian and their High Lord were beside him in an instant and both cursed when they were unable to break through. There was just enough time for his brothers’ to release another curse before he felt the mating bond shield fall and there was nothing but a whispering void. It left him feeling empty and his tears immediately began falling as he tried to break through yet again.

He didn’t register that Rhysand had disappeared and returned with Amren by his side. The second in command only had a bit of resistance against the ward before it fell and he was the first one inside. His stomach twisted and nausea filled him at the scent of your blood that filled his senses.

Now you’re running down the hallway

And you know what they say

One glance inside the bathroom had him instantly losing everything in his stomach as his brothers’ tried to save his mate but they were too late. He had just lost the best thing in his life that he had taken for granted in one of the worst ways.

You don’t know what you got until it’s gone

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst

786 notes · View notes

nightowlwriting · 3 years

Text

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel imagine #mcu imagine

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imthebadguyyy · 3 years

Note

Loved your first fic of Lewis!💛

Can you make one where Lewis Hamilton and Y/N have a fight and have been living separately and then Lewis comes to meet Y/N one evening and makes an excuse that his toothbrush is with Y/N? And then Lewis confronts Y/N that he knows Y/N still love him but won't admit?

* I know this is a very specific prompt. Bare with me. I just wanted more Angst/ Fluff with Longing for each other and Deep feelings and keep it Non-explicit. *

A/N - I'm so glad you liked the fic 😊

We're Meant To Be

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (female)

Fandom - F1

Summary - After a messy fight, you don't know where your relationship stands. But when love is that strong, an argument can't stand in the way.

Warnings - Angst, fighting, swearing

Angered shouts. Tears of frustration. White noise. Desperate pleads. And then silence. That's what your neighbours would describe if they were asked to describe what they had heard from your house. An argument that seemed to have started over nothing, had blown up into a full scale fight. When had it become this bad? Only yesterday, you two had had a date night at home, with movies and wine. Everything was perfect. But then, suddenly everything seemed to go down a downward spiral.

Your relationship with your boyfriend had always been calm, it had been the type of love where you just loved each other with all your hearts, where fights were an incredibly rare appearance. You were both working, and he was away at races most of the time, so usually, you didn't waste time fighting, something that was an unnecessary waste of time in your opinion. But then, something had just switched for a second. It was after the race in Baku, and it hadn't gone well. Lewis had been heartbroken, after coming P15, and had heavily berated himself for it. To make him feel better, you had taken a couple of days off work. to just be with him and give him company to feel better.

It had been on the third day of you spending time with him that he had made an offhand comment that had struck a nerve with you. "I wish you could be there at race weekends more often. It's like you don't care enough about the races" The comment had pissed you off, to put it lightly. "What do you mean, I don't care about the races? I watch all of them Lewis, I'm always supporting you" you had practically seethed at him. "Don't get all huffy, darling, all I'm saying is that the other girlfriends and wives come quite often, but you only come to like three races a year" he had said, already regretting his words. "Maybe that's because I have a job?! I work for my living, and I love my job. I don't have time to fly around the world to accompany you to your races, and its damn hard to get leave off of work anyway, I was lucky to even get a week off of work, and you want me to be there every weekend? It's not possible for a working person, Lewis" you had said, anger bubbling in your voice, pulling away from him to sit up straight. "I know, I just meant-" "No, I know what you meant. I'm sorry I can't always be there, and don't you think I feel bad when I can't be there for you ?" "I know you do, I shouldn't have brought this up. But can you come for the next race?" He had asked, not looking at your eyes, regretting the answer. "I... can't. I have a really big meeting coming up and-" "And you can't come I get it"

And he had just left. You had felt your heart shatter, hating yourself for being so harsh with him. But it was true, you were a very hardworking person, and you had worked damn hard to get to where you were, successful at your job, one of the best in your field. It took years of hard work and perseverance and you were proud of it. But a part of you also knew that Lewis didn't deserve any of the crap you had given him, and you also knew that he was right, the other guys had their partners to support them during various race weekends, and you only showed up to one or two of them. He was well in his rights to tell you that. And you hated how it had ended.

You all alone, in your house, in a cold and empty bed, in a quiet house with silence that was much, much more deafening than words ever could be. It was heartbreaking, to see a future you had dreamed of just shattering in front of your eyes, dreams of having a family of your own with him fluttering away like wisps of smoke, the burning flames leaving only a heartbroken mess of a human being behind. Was that what it felt like? To be burned and left to turn to ashes, when a person that knew exactly how to ignite your flame just left you to burn away? To have someone who could ignite your all consuming passion, and turn you to putty in his hands, who could mould you back into shape, leave you to melt into a liquid through his fingers to just lay on the ground, a sad, broken, person.

And here you were, lying on your bed, the sheets that had warmed the both of you on cold nights, or been home to your pleasure laced activities now offering only some of the warmth it used to, cold and unforgiving, as you turned your pillow for the fifteenth time, neither side cool anymore. Even the pillow didn't want to forgive you, the sweat settling in on your neck again, beads of sweat running down your forehead again. The pulled curtains shielded you from the over bright sunshine, your damp hair sticking to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes, red rimmed and tired, shut to protect them from the faint light in the room, the tiredness not permitting you to even open them to look in the dim light of your room.

Somewhere near you, your phone buzzed again, for what felt like the hundredth time in three days. It had been three days, three long, painful days since you and Lewis had fought and not seen each other, and those 72 hours had ripped a part of your soul out. You had spent those three days in bed, your leave days still saving you from getting out of bed and dragging your body to office. Was your relationship over? Were you never going to meet the love of your life, the man you were destined to be with again? Sighing, you rolled over, pushing the damp strands of hair away from your face. Using strength you didn't know you had, you pulled yourself up, feeling your head spin.

Slowly, you made yourself walk into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of bread and popping it into the toaster. Then you splashed some water on your tired face, shuffling over to the bathroom to brush your teeth. After finishing your toast, you peeled off the sweaty shirt you had pulled on when he had left, realising with a pang that it was Lewis's nightshirt you were wearing, a purple one he loved. Dropping it into the laundry basket, you turned on the shower, stepping under the warm shower. The warm spray untangled the knots in your matted hair, as you soaped your body and hair, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as memories of your showers together with Lewis came flooding back, as heartbroken sobs wracked your form again.

An hour after the not so great shower, you found yourself in another shirt belonging to Lewis, the bed in fresh sheets and covers, your pillow finally cool on both sides. You were clean and refreshed, albeit heartbroken, waiting on your takeout Chinese food and ice cream. Just as you lay there, scrolling through your Netflix account to watch some episode of FRIENDS to help you keep your spirits up, the doorbell rang. The thought of flavourful Chinese food and ice cream was enough to lure you out of your bed again, bare feet padding across the wooden floor to go to the door. You grabbed your wallet, opening the door, to find not your dinner, but Lewis, at the door, in one of your favourite sweatshirts on him. Did the clothes make you feel better? No. In fact, it just shattered your heart further.

"What are you doing here?" was the predictable line that left your lips. "I um, I left my toothbrush at your place. Can I have it back?"

"I beg your pardon? You left your toothbrush? You came back for a toothbrush, but not for me? Is that all I mean to you?!" you said, anger and a hint of sadness creeping into your tone. "You do mean a lot to me" he replied in a sigh. "Look, I didn't actually leave my toothbrush. That was a lie, and wow, I'm just realising how stupid that sounded, I'm sorry" His words were met with silence. The sadness in your eyes said it all. You were upset. Of course you were. "I don't have any toothbrushes except mine, so please leave" Before you could shut the door in his face, he pushed it back open, stepping into the house on his own.

"No do not come in here, please just get out!"

"No" was his frustrating reply. "What do you mean no? I said get out of my house!" "Not until we stop fighting and talk about what the hell happened!" Lewis yelled back, matching your tone. "Why the hell do you care?!" "Because I still love you damn it, I always have, and this stupid fight cannot, and should not break us apart!"

Your burst into tears. Sliding down against the wall, you buried your face in your hands, the sweatshirt arms covering your face as you sobbed. In an instant, Lewis was walking across to you, strong muscled arms wrapping around your shaking frame. "I'm sorry" you managed to blubber out, "I thought it over, and I don't go to support as often as I feel I should, and I'm sorry"

"No my darling, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that to you. You work so hard baby, and I'm so proud of you. And I know that you try to come whenever you can, and I love you so much for that. I'm sorry, and I never shouldv'e asked you to prioritize my passion over yours" rubbing your shoulders softly, he let his chin rest on top of yours. Sniffling, you let your head rest on his shoulder. The soft hiccups that left your lips broke his heart even further, something he hadn't thought possible.

The last 3 days had been pure hell for him. He had missed you, God, he had missed you. He had missed having you in his bed in the morning, tracing patterns on your bare skin. He had missed leaving kisses on your soft cheeks and hands and on your cute nose, missed smiling against your skin as you giggled. He had missed you playing with Roscoe, the doggo following the both of you around the house. Even Roscoe had missed you, sniffing around the house for your familiar smell, cocking his ears up and looking at his dad questioningly.

He had missed your perfume, the scent filling his senses, intoxicating him in the best way possible. He missed you curling up to him, playing with his hair or tracing his tattoos, leaving little kisses around the compass tattoo, tracing his 'Still I Rise' tattoo, missing the goosebumps that would rise on his skin when you traced Michelangelo's Pieta on his skin, and kissed the family and faith tattoos on his sternum. He missed you everywhere, and it had taken three days for him to realize that your presence grounded him. Your presence was something he needed, not to survive, he had done that before, he needed you for his happiness.

And having you in his arms, crying over what he had said? It shattered his heart. And he wanted to just fix everything, to bring everything back to normal. Stroking your hair softly, he kept his lips pressed to your ear, whispering soft "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry baby's" and "I'm here for you's" into your ear, feeling his heart lighten ever so softly when your sniffles decreased and your grip on yourself relaxed.

Moving up to meet his eyes, you moved so you were at eye level with him. "So we're both idiots who are sorry?" You murmured, running your hand up to his collarbone. With a soft laugh, he nodded taking your hand into his, rubbing his thumb over yours. "Fighting sucks" he mumbled pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "It really does" your replied, moving so you were straddling his waist. "Let's never do that again, and let's just make a schedule. We can figure out when you can come and visit me, and I'll just deal with the fact that my ethereal girlfriend won't grace the race tracks every race weekend-" "It all sounds lovely but all I want right now is your lips on mine" you interrupted, bringing a smirk to his lips.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to yours, hand moving to maneuver your head closer to his, your hands moving up to cup his cheek, as your traced his jawline, his thumb running over your waist. Breaking apart softly, he let his forehead rest on yours. "I love you" he whispered softly. "I love you too" you mumbled back. Before he could lean back in, the doorbell rang again.

"Damn it. That's my chinese food and ice cream" you sighed, smiling when he laughed. "Was it that bad?" He asked, letting you get up to open the door. "Like you wouldn't believe it"

After getting the food and paying for it, you set two plates on the table and put enough on your plates. "You know what the worst part was about fighting?" "What was?" "Not waking up to you tracing my tattoos" "Aww that's what you missed?" You giggled, walking up to kiss the tattoos on his hands. "I really did. You're cute and adorable and you're all mine. That's why I don't wanna fight. Let's keep it that way" "I love you so much" "I love you too"

***

A/N - I'm so, so sorry I took so long to write this, I really suck at angst, and I hope this is what you wanted, the last thing I want to do is give you subpar work 😭😭

Anyways, have a great day 💙

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #sir lewis hamilton #sir lewis #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton blurb #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 drivers x reader #f1 drivers imagines

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Chapter 6: Let’s Play a Game (Overprotection)

AO3

Marinette ended up not staying for dinner. She talked to Bruce for a little bit, but he had to leave for some WE emergency and Marinette wasn’t really up to bonding with the boys- her brothers- yet. But that was fine. It wasn’t like she was desperate to get to know the man and wouldn’t be able to after this trip because she had to stay in Paris because of Hawkmoth. No, she wasn’t upset. Not at all. It didn’t hurt her feelings. Nope.

---

Walking into Madame Soleil's Wax Museum with Adrien by her side, Marinette is hit with a major wave of deja vu. And not a good deja vu. No, the memories of the last time she was in a wax museum with Adrien were awful, humiliating and- feeling a hand wrap around hers pulls her from her spiraling thoughts. Glancing down, Marinette tries (and fails) to hide her grin. Adrien is holding her hand. Adrien is holding her hand!

“Hey Marinette!” A familiar voice calls, a hand squeezing her shoulder, making Marinette squeal and whirl around.

“Dick? What are you doing here?” She asks, frowning at the boy- her brother- as he stands there with a huge smile.

“Well I heard that a new wax figure is being revealed today, and I thought I might come and see it.” He says with a nonchalant shrug.

“Really? Who?” Adrien asks. Dick’s smile twitches slightly as he glances at Marinette, making her frown. Was he seriously about to play the overprotective big brother card? Really?

“Jagged Stone.” Dick finally says, glancing at their entwined hands. Marinette tries hard not to roll her eyes. Come on, her crush is finally holding her hand and her brother (who she’s known for a day!) is seriously trying to ruin that for her?

“Oh cool! Do you think he’ll come to Gotham to see it, Mari?” Adrien asks.

“I think he’s definitely scheduled to make an appearance in Gotham in the next couple days. He’s picking up his new suit in person.” She whispers, grinning at the idea of seeing her “Uncle” in person again. He’d been touring for several months and she hadn’t been able to see him for awhile, just the occasional video call.

“So! What figures did you guys want to check out first?” Dick asks, wedging himself between the two and forcing Adrien to drop her hand. Glaring at her brother, Marinette scoffs when Dick just smiles innocently.

“The hall of heroes and villains sounds cool.” Adrien suggests, looking around Dick to see Marinette.

“Hmm. Okay, but if the Nightwing figure is in his disco costume, I reserve the right to melt the statue.” She says, frowning at the choked noise Dick makes. “Are you okay?” She adds.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah I’m fine. What’s 1so bad about that costume?” He asks, a hurt expression on his face.

“Have you even seen it? The only worse costume is Riddler’s.” Marinette says, adding a shudder for dramatic effect. Walking past the local celebrities room and the pop stars room, Marinette’s eyes widen as their small group walks into the hall of heroes and villains. Walking away from Dick and Adrien, she’s almost instantly drawn to the Batman figure. She reads the little plaque about the artist and frowns, turning to Dick who had moved to stand next to her.

“I thought it’d be taller.” She says, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion when Dick starts choking on air, gasping for breath as broken chuckles flood out of him. “Ookay then.” She mutters, turning and walking back towards the villains. Nightwing was, luckily, depicted in his most recent costume. As was Robin. Which meant the only real fashion tragedy (besides the god awful helmet Red Hood wore) was the Riddler. Pulling her sketchbook out, Marinette circles the wax figure, occasionally making notes and sketching out slight adjustments to the man’s costume.

“His costume might be terrible, but it’s still better than half of the akumas.” Adrien whispers, leaning over her shoulder. Marinette looks up at him, eyes wide as her face heats up with a blush.

“I, uh, um, yes. Yeah.” She says, trying not to wince at her lack of speaking skills. “I mean, at least we can rule out any fashion designer in Paris as Hawkmoth. Because if Hawkmoth was a designer, that’d almost be a bigger crime.” She adds, smiling as Adrien laughs.

“Good to know you’re not moonlighting as Hawkmoth, m’lady.” He says with a mock bow. Marinette snorts, then covers her mouth, embarrassment rushing over her. Adrien just shakes his head, wrapping an arm over her shoulders.

“In case you forgot, we’ve definitely seen each other at our most embarrassing.” He says, making her groan.

“Oh god, no. I tied us up with my yoyo!” She moans, turning and burying her face into his chest so she doesn’t have to look at him anymore. Her face heats up more when she feels him chuckle and wrap his arms around her.

“I’ve always thought that was paw-sitively adorable.” He says, laughing when she groans again. She pulls away slightly, looking up at him with a timid smile. He smiles back, starts to lean forward and-

“Hey guys! I heard they’re about to unveil the Jagged Stone figure. Come on, let’s go! Don’t wanna miss it.” Dick says, grabbing each of their hands and pulling them towards the exist (and successfully separating them again). Marinette tries not to glare at Dick. She’s about to have one less brother.

---

Dick Grayson wasn’t used to having a little sister that he could protect. Sure, he had a little sister. Cas was awesome, but she could also kick his ass without breaking a sweat. No, he’d never had a little sister to protect. Someone he could watch out for and support. But now….now he has Marinette. And he’ll be damned if he lets some little punk take advantage of his little sister. Ignoring Marinette’s glare, he positions himself right between her and...the boy. He’d need to ask Timmy to do a background check on the kid later. Especially if he thought he was good enough for Marinette.

“So are you guys big Jagged fans?” He asks, trying to pull the two back into a conversation. He narrows his eyes at the smile the kid gives Marinette. It’s too...adoring. Too much. She’s only...what, fourteen? Much too young to date. Especially this kid.

“Mari’s a bit of a fan, I think. But, personally, I much prefer Jagged’s designer.” He says, and Dick turns to him, missing the way Marinette’s face turns bright red.

“Are you talking about MDC? I love them! Their work is amazing! And Jagged Stone says that he’ll never have another designer. I heard that there’s a possibility of them opening their commissions again. God, I hope they do. I’d do anything for something made by MDC.” Dick rambles with a wide smile, deciding to ignore the kid for a minute in order to ramble about his favorite designer. As the group walks into the pop star room, Dick steps back and glares at the kid. He’d stepped just behind Dick and was apparently trying to hold Marinette’s hand again. Not on his watch. No siree. No one’s gonna hurt his little sister.

---

Bruce sighs, running his hands through his hair. He’d been checking the street cameras in Paris, trying to figure out what time Ladybug and Chat Noir patrol so that he can set up a meeting. Try and offer help, or maybe even offer to take control of the situation. Anything to get rid of Hawkmoth. But instead, it was like the heroes didn’t exist. He’d read reports of the heroes patrolling before, so why were they so quiet this week? The only akuma from the past couple days wasn’t even taken care of by both of them. Ladybug did it alone, and seemed worse for the wear when she came out of the battle. Where was Chat Noir? And why did it seem as though they had gone into hiding?

---

Marinette was five seconds away from committing her first murder. Okay, probably her only murder, unless her other brothers decide to be as involved in her love life as Dick is. Because Dick won’t have the chance to be a problem for much longer. Because Marinette was honestly going to kill him. Right as she turned to finally yell at him, and tell him to knock it off, the lights flickered. She pauses her tirade, glancing to gauge Dick’s reaction to see if this is normal. And if his worried glances back at her are anything to go by, this is not normal.

“Let’s play a game! Solve my riddles and you all can leave freely, but make a mistake and someone will pay greatly! Take one out and scratch my head, I am now black but once was red. What am I?” A man’s voice asks, Marinette frowning as the Riddler walks in, a wide smile on his face. Ten goons walk in behind him, all of them carrying guns. She was used to the akuma attacks almost every day, but didn’t Gotham’s rogues have anything better to do than attack every place her class went? With guns? Come on. Riddler smirks and points at Adrien with his cane.

“A match.” She blurts out, ignoring Dick frantically shaking his head. If nothing else, she should be able to work with Adrien to get everyone out. But she knew his style. And riddles weren’t really his thing.

“Oh goody. We have a volunteer. Tell me, what has to be broken before you can use it?” Riddler asks, stalking towards her. Thinking for a second, Marinette tries to suppress a smile.

“An egg.” She says. Riddler narrows his eyes.

“I have 13 hearts, but no lungs or stomach. What am I?” He asks, Marinette frowns, running through possible answers in her head.

“A deck of cards.” She finally says.

“Buzzy, come over here and hold onto our friend.” Riddler says, gesturing to one of the goons. The man comes over and grabs Marinette’s arm roughly, she winces. That’ll definitely bruise.

“I answered your riddles.” Marinette says, deciding that now's as good a time as any to start distracting the man.

“And how did you answer them so quickly?” He asks, the frustration clear on his face.

“What do you mean? Were they supposed to be hard?” Marinette taunts, ignoring the choked sound Dick makes behind her. She knew what she was doing. She did. She had to.

“Why you-” Riddler starts, stepping forward and pulling his hand back as if to hit her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Marinette waits for the slap. The slap never comes. Opening her eyes, Marinette’s jaw drops when she sees the Riddler’s fist held tightly in Dick’s hand.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” He says lowly, a dark look on his face. Well that was unexpected. Riddler opens his mouth, probably to start spouting more riddles or other nonsense, when the goons blocking the exits drop. Noticing Red Robin and Red Hood picking off the other goons, Marinette throws her elbow back into the gut of the goon holding her. Not waiting for him to recover, Marinette stomps his foot and twists out of his grip. Grabbing his arm, Marinette manages to yank the man off balance and toss him to the ground. A hand on her shoulder makes her jump back and prepare to hit the person.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay ma’am.” The voice attached to the hand says. Marinette whirls around, ready to tell off the person, but immediately stops when she sees Red Robin.

“Sorry!” She yelps, jumping away from him. And she was too. She was determined to hit the person who grabbed her shoulder, so locked into battle mode, but she had managed to stop herself. Glancing around the room, Marinette notices Dick talking to Red Hood, his usual smile back on his face. That’s good. That’s normal, that’s right. The sudden blaring of the akuma alarm makes Marinette want to scream in frustration. Really, right now? It’s definitely already dark in Paris which means- Chat Noir. Ignoring everyone else, Marinette runs over to Adrien and grabs his hand.

“Akuma?” He asks, his voice low. She nods and tugs him towards the bathrooms, unaware of the eyes following them out.

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etherealluminescence · 3 years

Text

GN!MC forcing conquering the demons into Pacts

Quick tags for those some people who reblogged my other post pt 1, I know I have a lot more but these are the only ones with comments on the post. @chalcedear @undertaker-02 @the-mexican-writer @mammonkinnie

Lucifer

You had spent countless hours against Lucifer, trying to fight him and force him into a pact. No matter what you did, it seemed like you failed.

It took you a long time to realize, but you had to train to beat Lucifer. And that you did. You knew how terrifying his power was as all the demons told you, so for a week straight you intensely trained until you were ready.

Lucifer was already on edge noticing you didn’t try anything, but he knew you wouldn’t give up, which was when you decided to strike.

He easily dodged your initial flying kick when he entered the room, but you grabbed onto the door and swung back around, kicking the tip of his head before he backed off.

He was now ready to dodge, believing that tour strategy was only to catch him off guard, but he was wrong.

When you landed, you dug your foot into the ground and threw yourself at him, but as he moved to the right, you used the shelf behind him to catch yourself and kick off it and nailed a kick straight to his head.

It was now or never as you began throwing heavy punches, trying to get him into a chokehold while he was prying you off, struggling a little as you bit onto his fingers or wings. You even bit onto his horn to stabilize yourself and kept punching.

By the end of it, you had quite a few bruises from his harsh grip, but he had a black eye and his feathers were all over the floor, you’ve won.

He probably could of killed you, but he didn’t want that, so he accepted his loss, glaring at you when you dug your heel into his stomach as Satan clapped and Belphie got out a trophy to hand you.

His pact was now your’s and you were going to flaunt it. He’s alright with the fact it was you who forced him into a pact, but it majorly hurt his ego that you were superior to him.

Mammon

You had recently arrived in the devildom half an hour ago and did not feel welcomed, in the slightest.

You tried to be nice to your guide, but he brushed you off and left you with Levi, or he intended to.

Levi gasped as he watched you tackle Mammon who tried to run off, and elbow him in the jaw. When he fell to the ground you kicked the life out of him muttering out “I tried to be nice to you fucker, if one of us is killed today it’s you.”

Levi was obviously bewildered, but took the chance to tell you to make a pact with him, his biggest mistake in his lifetime, all the poor demons in the future.

Mammon was crying a little as you forced him into a pact, and pulled him up with one hand, making him face Levi himself.

Mammon is 100% nicer to you because you’re scarier than Lucifer, and also because you genuinely treat him with respect now that he’s nice to you, something he’s not used to. Super happy to be the first ever demon you’ve conquered.

Leviathan

You had decided to do things the non violent way and participate in the TSL quiz, until Levi turned into his demon form and tried to kill you.

Taking up his challenge, you fearlessly walked towards him as Mammon was trying to tell you no, and you caught his punch.

It pushed you back a little bit, but you caught it and twisted his arm, and proceeded to beat him up in a one sided battle.

It’s not that he was weak, or others were helping you, but you genuinely managed to fight back and beat him so hard that it looked like his entire left arm was broken.

Lucifer was kinda pissed you broke his brother ngl;; but Diavolo is like it’s self defense?? And Lucifer is just like what human fights a demon across the room in self defense.

When Levi is begging for mercy he is reminded of what happened to Mammon and the rumors, accepting defeat, you make a pact mark with him, he’s kinda pissed though, like highkey.

He thinks that you probably think of him as a trophy or something to collect, based off the rumors. You probably don’t want to have a pact mark with an otaku, you just want to show off your strength.

He soon changes his attitude towards you when you show interest in him. You’re just genuinely a nice person and a caring older sibling figure, but will fight for the sake of peace and safety.

Now he’s just jealous that you spend more time with Luke than anyone else.

Satan

He offered you a pact mark easily because he wanted to piss off Lucifer, especially when you tried to give him a black eye from the pillow fight.

Very angry and disappointed when you said no, but then surprised when you said you’d beat the shit out of him instead, fair and square.

He knew you fought well, but are you sure you want to fight the embodiment of wrath himself? And you’re just like yep, the small tiny you, so confident.

He didn’t take it too seriously despite seeing the actual proof multiple times, and he watched you used his messy room to your advantage, even using the bookshelves to help you get air.

His ass was easily kicked even when he was serious. “You know, after facing both Levi and Beel, you aren’t much of a challenge.” You casually said as you formed a pact mark with him.

Slightly irked by the comment but delighted to be apart of your fan club, probably yells “BEAT THEIR ASS!” On the sidelines.

Pisses Lucifer off whenever you two fight and Lucifer gets an injury from you, and asks if Lucifer ever wants ice, just to be a dick.

Diavolo and Satan are in the fan club which PISSES Lucifer off when the two are in front of him discussing how you will one day (undoubtedly) beat Diavolo.

Asmodeous

You made a pact with Asmo after accidentally beating him up, he was begging for mercy and you kind of felt bad.

You insisted it wasn’t on purpose and he kind of avoids you for awhile after the pact mark. He’s glad Solomon isn’t like you, otherwise the devildom would cease to exist.

He’s eventually fine with you, and loves to take photos of you and Luke together acting like siblings because it’s the cutest thing. Although demons are scared of you they do kinda admire you, and seeing you soft with Luke is good for his devilgram.

Soon treats you like a friend instead of a monster that just so happened to kick his ass and make him beg.

You’re so tiny that it’s kinda cute and he nearly forgets someone like you is violent and scary so when he took you shopping and someone shoplifted, he was concerned for your nails after you disfigured them.

Will 10/10 treat your tense muscles and let you soak in his tub.

Beelzebub

He’s seen you fight before but damn he couldn’t believe it. You’re just so smol?? Couldn’t he crush you?

Lesson learned as he was knocked out after he broke your room. You didn’t want to hurt Besl since he was always courteous with you, so you knocked him out quickly.

He doesn’t remember more than you launching at him and the feel of his wings being tugged and his neck suddenly throbbing.

Mammon who watched beg for Beel’s life on his knees, asking you to spare him. You just nodded and waited for Beel to wake up before making a pact.

When he makes one, you give him some custard you asked Mammon to go out and buy really quick, you said please, and Beel is just so happy!!

He tried to kill you and he feels so bad but you’re just so kind!! Wants to protect you so bad but knows you’re just so badass so he instead helps you care for Luke.

Belphegor

You’d definitely be lying if you said you didn’t see it coming. His brothers had already tried to kill you, he was locked in an attic, and not to mention he gave you a weird vibe, you would of left him alone if you weren’t a nice person.

He tells you thank you for freedom and transforms, ready to kill you. No one got in his way and instead said “good luck Belphie” or “Nice knowing you” so he thought they wanted you dead.

Then he hears Beel say “I don’t want you to die, Belphie” and he is so confused? As he aimed his attack and you just end up punching him square in the face.

Afterwards, you kicked him in the stomach and grabbed his tail, swinging him into a wall, and knocking him over and over and over.

He is out cold, so when he wakes up and sees everyone congratulating him on surviving, he puts two and two together.

You were sitting on top of him and demanding a pact mark, and he unwillingly gives it to you after you nearly rip out his horn.

Pissed off and scared of you, slightly, but more impressed by the fact that even Lucifer struggles with you. When he finds out about the sheer amount of pact marks you have he’s starting to wonder when humans got so strong? And it became an endless spiral of him being pissed off.

Don’t worry though!! He eventually gets used to you.

Diavolo

Super happy it was finally his turn!! Like you did it, congrats, wants it you’d like some tea and what kind of attire to wear for his asskicking.

Is absolutely not looking down on you, he genuinely believes you’re strong. Because of that, he’s just so excited to face you. You beat both Lucifer and Barbatos, the majority of RAD, and you’re such a cool person!!

When you approach him you looked so badass. “Aye, prince of kiss my ass, I’m here to claim you once and for all and become the new ruler of this place.” You yelled out as you kicked down the door to his office.

The first time you two fought, he won. You had a lot of bruises, but managed to rip out some of his hair, at least. He finds it admirable how you still kept going despite him clearly hearing a rib break.

SUPER excited to tell Satan about it!! Hopes Barbatos recorded the fight so he could broadcast it at RAD during an announcement or something, but Barbatos rejected that idea.

Poor Diavolo only wanted to be included in this ass beating trend, but super happy when you return three days later and try to beat him up again, you even changed up the way you fight!!

You won’t ever know this, but one day he purposely changed his office’s layout to benefit your fighting style more, so when you finally beat him he was so ecstatic, his lips were bleeding but he was laughing, congratulating you and couldn’t wait to give you a pact.

Oh boy was he SO happy when you flaunted it, and sat in his desk chair with a hand on your chin, giving an order to Barbatos who recorded it, acting as if you really were the ruler of the devildom.

“Could you get some bandages for your former ruler, please?” You asked, feeling accomplished that Luke was officially safe during his stay in the devildom, and Diavolo was just swooning.

The public is 10/10 avoiding you because they are SCARED for their life. The people are convinced you’re like a nuclear weapon against demons.

Barbatos

He knew one day you’d defeat Lucifer, but it was so quick. You only needed a week of prep time?

Steps up his game a bit, because after two weeks of training you approach him ready to fight, and he can sense you’re not the same.

As he uses his tail to put you out of the room, he automatically feels your sharp teeth digging into his tail. He can withstand it no problem, until you literally rip a bit of his tail chunk out.

You didn’t let go even as he flung you off his tail, and you even dug your nails in. He showed no expression, but it was genuinely painful as you climbed his tail onto him, his tail no longer as useful because he was very sure you would rip through it.

His fighting against you one on one went well for him, he could see and easily predict your moves easily, until you head butted him and began every trick in the book.

From kicking, punching, biting, scratching, you name it, you did it. He was finally at your mercy when you were cover in both your own and his blood, while he was sure his tail was missing some pieces, and you were absolutely not letting go.

He’s 100% convinced you’ve gone feral in a span of three weeks, but that’s okay. The only thing stopping you from fighting the prince was now defeated, and he apologised to Diavolo frequently, who was only super excited in return.

Don’t worry you apologised for his tail and helped him with his job for awhile, totally not to also study Diavolo in his natural habitat.

First time you’ve ever seen him smile so soft was when he got his ass kicked so hard by you that his tail went chomp chomp.

Luke

Surprised pikachu face.

He understands you beating up Mammon,, and maybe some lesser demons,, but did you REALLY defeat Lucifer, Barbatos, and Diavolo.

Surprised pikachu face as you shrug and say “yeah I guess. I’m the ruler now, do you feel safe yet?”

Lucifer yells out you’re not the ruler just because you formed a pact with Diavolo, but you ignored him and smile at Luke, patting his head.

Luke is just nodding like “I’m safe!!!” While in his head he’s like WOW whaT PLEASE EXPLAIN.

Luke constantly calls you his older sibling now, tells daddy Simeon ALL about it, and brags about you to the demons who even look at him.

Praise this precious baby as he makes you all the sweets in the world. You’ve literally defeated demons of all sorts, even the most powerful, and all you want is to see him smile.

Will probably cry.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me hc #obey me headcanons #obey me headcanon #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me lucifer #obey me asmo #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me Satan #obey me beel #obey me belphegor

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gothamcityangst · 3 years

Note

(I’m awful at remembering which ones you’ve done before so feel free to ignore this if you’ve already answered one like this!)

What do you think would happen if one of the rogues (preferably Edward, Jonathan or Jervis) had ‘cleaned up their act’ then ended up relapsing into being a villain again? I could see a lot of angst just surrounding the whole internal conflict of trying to get better vs still being treated like a villain.

Bonus points if they’re trying it on their own without really warning anyone so they still have to worry about the police/batman which adds a whole second layer to their issue!

NOW, THIS IS SOME GOOD CONTENT! You're fine! I think I've only touched on it but never really gone in-depth.

I'll do all three because I love the dork squad!!!

JONATHAN

Jonathan relapses because it's impossible for him to find a job outside of Halloween. They purposefully released him around Halloween thinking he'd be stable. And he was. Until November 1st. After his Halloween charm has worn off he tries to apply to teaching jobs again. It obviously doesn't work. He gets set up working in a library that hires offenders. It works for Jon for a little while, he can spend his days mostly alone with a cup of coffee and pumpkin pie while reading a good horror novel. Jonathan feels content until he falls into a routine. A routine which quickly turns sour when people cop onto who he really is. He gets Karen's yelling at him, he gets books thrown at his head as he's trying to work and he can't go a single day without someone verbally abusing him.

This leads Jon into a depression spiral. The Library job is nice but with the constant abuse from 'civilised' members of the public he can't truly enjoy it. The Scarecrow was the only thing that brings him genuine joy and pleasure. Scarecrow is like his other half and without him he feels incomplete. He starts to miss his work shifts in favour of staying in his home and looking after his little pet crow.

Jon snaps one day. It isn't any one thing in particular that sets him off he just decides he's had enough. He drowns the library in fear toxin and runs out manically screaming. He knows he'll be sent back but he doesn't care. He will take all the jailtime in the world if it means he doesn't have to deal with his depression again.

EDWARD

Edward is the quickest to relapse. It can't be helped that Gotham is full of idiots. He tried to capatalise on his fame as an ex supervillian and it worked for a bit. He'd get interviews, sponsorships and attention. He loved being in the spotlight and genuinely it was very good for him. It fulfilled his need for positive attention.

When the attention moves onto newer and shinier people that's when he started to slip. He tried his best to regain his post release fame but it never happened. He tried to collaborate with puzzle makers but most didn't want to touch him with a 10ft pole. Ed is so busy with trying to get his fame back he starts to miss more and more of his therapy sessions, his mental health reverts back and this time its even worse. The higher they rise the harder they fall as the saying goes. He goes down the douchy celebrity route of being a dick to people and getting into fights. Bad attention is better then none at all. When he realizes he's become the main focus of trash media outlets he sinks further and further.

One night he see an interview with the Joker on TV and that's the final straw. One death trap later and he finds himself in the back of the Batmobile with a broken arm and black eye. Batman actually expresses sever disappointment in him. Edward expresses he has enough disappointment for the both of them.

When the Batmobile pulls up to Arkham there's not a single reporter in sight and Ed is silently destoryed.

JERVIS

Jervis would last the longest out of all of them before relapsing. He'd be working in a small store. He relapses because too many things would remind him of Alice in Wonderland. The small grocery store he was placed in has a small frumpy woman who shouts till she's red in the face. There's another ex rogue named Temple whose obsessed with keeping track of time. And of course a teenage employee who's always smoking behind the store like Absolem the caterpiller.

Jervis is prone to getting abuse from the police seeing as he mind controlled a lot of their 'brothers in blue'. The cops come in for doughnuts and they always pick on him when they come into the store. The store is well known for hiring ex cons so they're aware they can get away with abusing employees. He comes home from many a shift with coffee creamer in his hair and a soup tin sized bruise on his back.

Jervis is trying so damn hard. He's trying harder then he ever has before in his life. With the combination of the cops and his coworkers he comes to a realization. He hates the real world. The real world is cold and callous and cruel. Jervis much prefers to go back to his own perfect Wonderland. And if going back to his Wonderland means have to go back to Arkham then that was the toll he was willing to pay.

His story ends with him being hauled back to Arkham after mind controlling everyone in the store and executing the vicious officers who were so needlessly cruel to him.

#THIS ONE WAS SO FUN TO WRITE #Jonathan Crane #The Scarecrow #Edward Nygma #The Riddler #Jervis Tetch #The Mad Hatter #Dork Squad #Angst #G-C-A

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darthkruge · 4 years

Note

Could you do an imagine where Anakin comforts an insecure reader

Anakin Skywalker x Reader ~ Insecurities

Summary: Anakin comes home to find the reader drowning in their own insecurities and does everything he can to make it better.

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Heavy talk of insecurities, including the reader feeling insecure about their body, personality, relationship, basically themself in general. A little bit of blood and some injuries but nothing major. Angst to fluff, I’d say?

A/N: Hi anon! First off, I hope you’re okay. Secondly, thank you for requesting! And ofc I’ll write this, comfort fics are my shit! I tried to get this request out as quick as I could and it did take a tiny bit longer than I wanted, but I wanted to do it justice. Also, y’all are beautiful and perfect and I love each and every single person reading this. If anyone ever needs anything, I’m here always. If you wanna talk or vent or just share some of your thoughts, I got you.

(not my gif)

It was just one of those days. You weren’t a stranger to them but, nonetheless, you always felt unprepared when they hit. The feeling where you wanted to crawl out of your own skin, your own mind. Where regardless of what clothes you wore, you hated how you looked. The thoughts were the worst part, telling you lies that felt terrifyingly like truths.

You’re worthless. You’re unlovable. You’re ugly. Everyone else can see it. They all know. No one really wants to spend time with you. You’re annoying. You’re stupid. You’re a bad person.

The thoughts spiraled and spiraled and spiraled until you were lost in your own head. When it came to this, you frequently fell. It was too painful to hold onto your consciousness and fight it, so you let go. The thoughts continued as you curled back up in your bed, in the apartment in Coruscant that you shared with him, the one that normally brought you such comfort, and stared blankly at the wall. Tears streamed down your face and you didn’t even have the energy to wipe them away.

Truly, the worst part was feeling so defeated. You were a strong Jedi and you took your training seriously. You’d fought in countless battles, you should be able to handle one in your mind. You wished you were strong enough to fight against these thoughts. The shame you felt around your insecurities only made you feel more alone. Instead of reaching out on days like this, you just forced yourself into silence.

You were especially afraid to tell Anakin. Your beautiful, perfect, kind, loving boyfriend. He didn’t deserve to deal with you. He had enough on his plate, it wasn’t his job to comfort you because you weren’t strong enough to deal with your own shit. You were scared that once he saw how you viewed yourself, he would come clean and admit to seeing you the same way. I mean, you were so obviously hideous, how could he not see it, too?

Meanwhile, Anakin was finishing up a training session in the Jedi Temple. Normally he’d train with Obi-Wan, but today he wanted to focus on himself. Honestly, he was a bit distracted. Since he had a busy day today and you had the day off, he had to leave before you woke up, which he absolutely hated. He loved being there when you woke up and cooking breakfast for the two of you. You’d been dating for a few months and he was truly shocked that you’d kept him around for this long. You were everything he’d ever wanted.

He realized he was smiling as he thought of you and decided to reach out with the Force to be reminded of your presence. He knew it wasn’t what the Force was supposed to be used for but he honestly couldn’t help it, he missed you. You were a comfort to him and he liked to check and make sure you were alright.

Anakin’s brow furrowed as he searched for you. Normally, you were meditating at this time and he could feel a sense of serenity and contentment around you. Today, however, he was met with pain. Pain, and fear, and hatred, and sadness, and anguish, and loneliness. Anakin braced himself against the wall, stumbling back at the severity of your emotions. Right after, he composed himself and took off in a run, trying to get to you as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? Y/N?!” Anakin yelled, bursting through the door. He was immediately taken aback when he noticed that all the lights were off. Walking quietly, he heard your sobs coming from the bedroom. He went in and felt his heart shatter. There you were, his angel, curled under the blankets, sobbing. He looked around and noticed the mirror in your room smashed. He walked over and gently placed a hand on your back, trying not to startle or upset you more.

You looked up at him and started crying even harder. He pulled you into his arms and noticed how you fell limply into his chest. The fight seemed to have extinguished from your eyes, causing him to hold you even closer. Your arms weakly surrounded his middle as his hands stroked your back and gently combed through your hair.

You felt lost and trapped, the world around you fuzzy and distorted from the tears. Even so, you felt him. You breathed him in, inhaling his comforting scent and feeling his warmth. He helped you ground yourself, the broken wails eventually quieting into soft cries. Anakin didn’t try to shush you, he just whispered reassurances into your hair, let you get it out, and held you. “I’ve got you, love. It’s alright, get it out. I’m here, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

You listened to those affirmations as you sagged into him, taking a few more minutes to just lay there. Softly, Anakin pulled you away from him so he could study you. You saw his face contorted with worry and immediately felt guilty. Great, Y/N, now you’ve made him upset. Fuck, he doesn’t deserve this. Why did I have to be so fucking needy?!

Your thoughts were interrupted by him. “What happened, angel?”

“I-” You trailed off, not sure what to say. “I just had a shit day”

You could tell he knew it was more and, feeling vulnerable under his intensely caring gaze, brought your hand to move the hair out of your face.

Quickly, you heard Anakin take a sharp inhale of breath before grabbing your hand. Ouch. You looked down and noticed the cut on the back of your hand. It had mostly dried by now, thankfully, but the pain from punching that mirror earlier was definitely still registering.

He wordlessly went to the bathroom and brought out some gauze and anti-bacterial medicine. When he returned, his eyes drifted to the mirror and you saw him putting the pieces together. He spent a few moments in silence, his expression downcast. He worked quickly, bandaging you up and collecting his thoughts. “Why?” He asked, softly.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t stand to look at myself anymore” You whispered, wiping away some residual tears from your eyes.

“Y/N, you’re gorgeous, love. Please, angel, please look at me.” He cupped your face and moved you so you were in his lap, making sure you heard every word. “You are truly the most breathtaking person I’ve ever met. You’re ethereal.”

Anakin’s voice was quiet as he told you these things. Quiet, yet powerful. Almost as if it was the gentle caress of his innermost thoughts. Completely honest and raw, yet too intimate for anyone to hear except you.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry your brain is lying to you. That must be so hard, fighting against your own mind. Baby, you’re brave. You’re so, so brave.”

You were shaking your head, “Ani, no, no I’m not. I’m not brave, I didn’t fight. I let them consume me. I was drowning and I couldn’t breathe until you came in. I couldn’t anchor myself at all, I was so weak” You said, disgusted with yourself.

“Shh, shh, Y/N, listen. You are strong because even though you felt the weight of everything on your shoulders, you didn’t drown. I know you felt like you would, but look! You’re here. You didn’t drown.” He took a second to pause, kissing your forehead lovingly. “Do you want to talk about what brought this on?”

“If I tell you, promise you won’t think differently of me?”

“I promise. Nothing could change how I feel about you.”

You inhaled deeply, hands shaking slightly. Ani took them in his own, steadying them while looking at you deeply. “I’ve been dealing with some shit for a while and I think it all kind of caught up to me today? I hate how I look, Ani. I look in the mirror and I can’t handle it. That’s why I broke it, I just, I couldn’t. And then I was just thinking of how you don’t deserve to deal with someone like me. You shouldn’t have to come home after a day of training and deal with my breakdowns. I know I should have told you I’ve been feeling like this. I just was terrified. I was terrified you’d agree with me. I’m terrified you’ll leave me. I’m terrified you’ll wake up and see how you deserve so much more than the shitty fucking messed up person I am.” You trail off and meet his eyes, tears glistening in both of yours, “Ani, I’m so terrified” You finish, voice wavering.

Anakin rests his forehead against yours, pressing kisses to your hands. He lets his eyes close and tears fall down his cheeks. He couldn’t believe you were in this much pain and he never noticed. You were the love of his life and he felt like he’d failed you if you feel like this.

“Y/N, I’m not gonna leave you. I’m not going anywhere. You are the best person for me, hell, you’re the best person in the entire fucking galaxy. Everyday I wake up and think about how lucky I am to call you mine. You’re smart, you’re kind, you’re compassionate. You’re stubborn as hell and I love that about you. You challenge me and you’re a damn good Jedi. You’re strong, stronger than anyone should ever have to be. Your heart inspires me everyday. Simply, you’re good. And I know I said it a bit earlier, but I’m gonna say it again. You are stunning, love. Truly.” Anakin said, pulling away so he could really see you.

“Look at your legs! They’re so pretty, baby. Especially when you jump up and wrap them around me after I get home from a mission? That’s the best feeling in the freaking world! And your stomach! You always let me rest my head on it when I’m tired and I know you think it’s weird but it’s such a good angle because I can lay there and play with your hands. And, baby, your arms!! You give such good hugs and you when wrap them around me?? It makes me feel safe in a world full of chaos. And at night when you use them to curl into me, or when we’re dancing together? Fuck, I just love them.”

Anakin trailed off for a second. He held your face in his palms and you leaned into their warmth. “And you’re face, Y/N. It’s just so perfectly you. When I look into your eyes, I know I’m home. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. I don’t understand how you can hate your body when it's the body that makes me feel like I’m going to be okay. You make me feel like I’m going to be okay. I’ve always felt so out of control, so lost. But you ground me. Please, come to me if you ever feel like this again? You are not a burden or a messed up person. You’re everything. I’m here for you. I know my words won’t fix anything overnight. Even so, I promise you, I will repeat them everyday until you believe them and, after that, I will continue to remind you until my last breath.”

You hugged him and nuzzled into his chest, overcome with emotion. “I’m trying Ani, I’m really trying. It’s not easy for me to come to people when I feel like that but I promise I’ll try.”

His arms tightened around you and he placed a kiss on the top of your head. “That’s all I could ever ask of you, love. Thank you for being willing to try”

“Thank you, too, for talking me down today. It doesn’t normally get that bad. Some days are worse than others, you know? But you really helped me. I love you more than anything. I love you for loving me when I feel unlovable”

“I will always be here to remind you how deserving you are of love, happiness, and every other positive thing in the universe. I love you, too. I’ve loved you for years, I love you now, and I’ll love you forever”

Anakin hadn’t really let you go since he returned to the apartment. He was naturally a protective person and hated to see you hurting. He was so soft, so comforting. Although vulnerability is always hard, he made it so much easier. You knew he would always validate you, comfort you, and be there without judgement. He was everything you could possibly need and more.

Eventually, your breathing evened out as he rocked you in his arms. Anakin layed you back under the covers and went to pull away to sweep up the broken mirror’s glass. As he attempted to release himself from your arms, you whined and only tightened your grip on him. Anakin smiled and chuckled quietly, laying down and pulling you on top of his chest. You hummed contently and he placed a few more soft kisses onto your hair, your forehead, your shoulders, everywhere. You were his top priority always and he wanted to keep you safe physically, mentally, and emotionally. He could never deny you comfort, especially not in this state. After waiting a few more moments to ensure you were truly at rest, Ani closed his eyes. The glass could always wait until tomorrow...

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker x insecure reader #anakin skywalker x gender neutral reader #anakin skywalker x gn!reader #anakin skywalker #anon #requests

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awritingtree · 4 years

Text

The Complications of Friendship and Love

James Potter x reader, very little Sirius Black x reader, James Potter x Lily Evans

@wand3ringr0s3‘s 1.9k follower writing challenge: Angst prompt 5. “I never thought something could hurt this bad.” The prompt has been bolded :)

Summary: Being best friend’s with your ex is complex. But adding your best friend dating your ex? Things got a whole lot more complicated.

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: angst, low self-confidence talks, friendship betrayals, unrequited love, 1 swear word

A/N: jsdf I’m sorry this took so long love <3 I wrote half of it and then lost motivation and then got back to it after so long 😂 anyways I hope you all enjoy it xx

Next part: The Benefits of Friendship and Love

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Y/N Y/L/N had believed that James Potter was her one true love; the person she was going to spend the rest of her life with. But there she sat in her Potions class watching her two best friends giggling and flirting with each other wondering where did she go wrong?

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, not glancing at her.

“Of course I do, James,” Y/N replied, bewildered he would even think about asking her such a question.

“It’s just- I’ll be really busy you know. With quidditch, NEWTs coming up and being head boy, I won’t have a lot of time to give you,” James explained.

“I don’t care about that. As long as I’m with you, nothing else matters.”

James didn’t get a chance to say anything as Sirius just plopped down next to Y/N, throwing a hand over her shoulder. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” said James before launching into a conversation with Remus about prefect duties.

“Right, nothing,” sighed Y/N, picking at her food.

“Hey, can we talk?” Lily’s voice snapped Y/N out of her daydream. Her eyes connected with the grey eyes of Sirius Black before she turned around to face Lily with a smile, “Of course, Lils.”

“Can we go somewhere...” Lily looked around the courtyard, “a bit more private?” she finished.

Y/N nodded, stringing her bag around her shoulder as she followed Lily towards the Black Lake. It was a rare warm day at the beginning of October of their seventh year. The grounds were filled with students soaking up the remnants of the warm sun before a cold, harsh winter took over.

Lily led Y/N to a secluded area near the edge of the Black Lake. She stood there, rocking back and forth on her heels, wiping her hands on her uniform every few seconds. She took a deep breath, turning to face her best friend. Her forehead creased, her bottom lip pulled in between her teeth, nibbling down on it.

“Is everything alright?” asked Y/N softly, concerned at her best friend’s behaviour.

“Yes- well um no. I guess- I just need to tell you something. Promise me you’ll listen to the whole thing before speaking?”

Y/N nodded; her eyebrows furrowed in worry. What could Lily possibly have to say that’s gotten her so anxious?

“I want to start by saying I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did, especially without talking to you first. James and I, we’ve been dating. Since a few weeks ago before the term started. We didn’t tell you because I knew it’d hurt you and none of us wanted that. We’ve broken up now. We talked a few days ago. I- we couldn’t carry on like that, not when we knew what we were doing would hurt our best friend. I knew you liked him, and I still said yes, and I shouldn’t have done that, especially after he hurt you so badly. I know you’re upset; we shouldn’t have hidden it from you in the first place, but we’re over now.”

Lily looked up suddenly, shocked to hear Y/N laugh. Not a hurt, mocking laugh but a genuine laugh as if she had heard something really funny.

“I know, Lily,” Y/N said giggling, “You all did an extremely bad job at hiding it.”

“Really? And you’re not upset?” Lily asked nervously.

“Of course not, silly. But I do think you’ve both gone mad. Absolute bonkers. How could you ever think I would stand in the way of my two best friends’ happiness?” Y/N asked with a small smile.

“I can’t. We can’t do that to you.”

“Rubbish! You’re not doing anything to me. Go, be with him. Be happy, both of you.”

A grin made its way onto the redhead’s face she jumped onto the Y/H/C, squeezing the life out of her.

“Thank you! Thank you so much. You’re the best,” Lily shouted as she ran back towards the castle. She turned her head to see her best friend with a small smile on her face, what she didn’t see were the tears gathering in her eyes and how her face fell once she was alone. What she failed to see was the sight of her best friend falling onto her knees, breaking down once again.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Sirius, Remus and Peter found Y/N sitting against a tree, face resting on top of her knees drawn to her chest. They all grimaced at the sight of her blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes. She looked so broken.

“You knew, didn’t you?” she whispered, continuing to stare at the still lake before her.

Sirius, Remus and Peter stayed silent not knowing what to say. They did know from the beginning. James came back home shouting about it as soon as it happened. They were asked not to tell her and so they didn’t, a big mistake on their part they realized a little too late.

“Leave me alone” requested Y/N, her voice hoarse from crying.

“Y/N/N, we are-” started Remus.

“Please, just go,” she pleaded weakly. She had no energy left to do anything anymore. Her heart hurt too much. She’d wasted all her energy trying to be enough for a boy who wanted nothing to do with her; all for nothing.

“Alright. But we are sorry Y/N,” said Remus softly.

“We’re here if you need anything,” Peter went on.

Y/N didn’t reply. She made no acknowledgement that the words reached her ears. She continued to stare at the still water, a defeated look on her face. Remus and Peter turned to walk back to the castle. Sirius sighed and took a step towards Y/N, ignoring the pointed look Remus sent him. He leaned down to press a soft kiss against her head.

“We really are sorry, love,” he mumbled before following his best friends back to the castle.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

A few months passed by. The weather got colder; the wind got harsher. The leaves changed colours and fell. The green grass began to get covered with white snow. All through this, Lily and James got stronger. Every girl was envious of their relationship. The golden couple, they were known as throughout the school.

Meanwhile, Y/N continued to suffer on the sidelines, never showing anyone how badly she was hurting. She wore a bright smile, fake to anyone who really looked. Sirius, Remus and Peter noticed it, she had begun to pull away from all of them, spending all her time in the library when she could, sitting with other people during meals. Anytime they approached her she would cut the conversation short saying she had somewhere to be. The times where she did stick around them, she wasn't the talkative Y/N they knew and loved but a shell of her former self.

Y/N felt disgusted with herself for the hate and anger she had begun to feel towards her best friend. It was justified in her eyes, but she knew no one else would see it that way; she would be considered too dramatic, petty and honestly, a bitch. Due to this fear, Y/N kept quiet about how she felt about the situation. She couldn’t rant to Remus, Sirius, Peter, Marlene, Alice or Dorcas. The only person she could rant to, who would understand her completely or otherwise not judge her, was the sole cause of all her problems in the first place.

James Potter not only ripped her heart right out of her chest and stomped all over it but also left her alone with no one she could talk to, making her spiral into a whirl of self-hate and loneliness with nothing to keep her from drowning.

“What happened to not having enough time to be in a relationship?”, “Be more like Lily then maybe we’d like to hang out with you more”, “Look at Lily, she’s beautiful and she takes care of herself” were the only thoughts that swirled through Y/N’s head on repeat. Her self-worth was reduced to the size of a speck of dust, ready to be blown away into the open by the lightest of breaths. Sirius had noticed her change in mannerisms, clothes, tone of voice; almost everything and it made his heartache. He watched from afar as she continued to distance herself; not that anyone could blame her. But it appeared that her absence went unnoticed by everyone, except by him, Remus and Peter. Not even her best friend noted the lack of her presence; too involved in her new boyfriend and busy making new friends.

Y/N soon found comfort in her friends from Ravenclaw, particularly Dave. He understood how she felt; not completely but a bit was better than nothing. He was someone she could rant about James and Lily to without the fear of judgement. Dave and Lily had broken up a few months before she’d started dating James; turns out she had liked James throughout their relationship, using it as a backup since James was showing interest in her best friend at that time. But in the end, not even the friendship of Dave was enough to fill up the empty void inside her, the gaping hole that she believed only one person could close.

Y/N was broken, like a mirror shattered into a thousand pieces and the glue that could put her back together was only in one person’s possession.

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Y/N wanted to cry; she wanted to break things, thrash a whole room as she collapsed under the weight of her sobs. She wanted to scream into the void until her throat ached, her voice hoarse and raw. She wanted to shout at Lily for deceiving her; for pretending to care all these years. She wanted to yell at the universe, asking what she had done to deserve this. She wanted to punch James, break his nose for destroying her. Y/N Y/L/N had lost herself and she was nowhere to be found.

Y/N knew everyone would pick Lily if it came to it. Everyone always picked Lily; she was the much more favourable and lovable choice. It hadn't bothered Y/N much at first, she would gladly pick Lily first over herself too, but it started to get too much when people she was close to first - she’d introduced Lily to (such as the Marauders) - chose her. The last straw was drawn when James, the only person in the world Y/N had thought would never abandon her; tossed her aside like a second choice, opted for her. The person she revealed her deepest, darkest secrets to; whom she told things she’d never imagined telling another living, breathing soul had thrown her without a second thought, without any regret, onto the side of the road like rubbish without glancing back once to see the damage he’d caused. He’d promised he wouldn’t turn out like the rest. He’d promised to her.

Maybe it was all her fault. She gave her everything to him; her heart and soul, all her time, her first kiss, amongst other things whether she wanted to or not. There were days where she wondered whose fault it really was. Was it her? Was she not pretty enough? Lily Evans was beautiful; no one could deny it, you looked like a tiny twinkling star next to the glowing moon. Surprisingly the only person that comprehended what a first kiss and relationship meant to Y/N was Sirius Black, the notorious player of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was the only one who’d not told her to get over it and instead held her hand through the period of time when she had needed someone to rely on.

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“Y/N! Wait! Y/N/N!” Y/N reluctantly slowed down, waiting for the person calling her name to catch up to her. She found herself in the company of Sirius, Remus, and Peter once a hand quickly grabbed her and pulled her to the side of the corridor.

“What do you want?” she asked impatiently. She just wanted to go back to her common room and sleep - an evening of peace - but the universe was against her, as usual.

Peter looked around nervously at the tone of her voice whilst Remus looked as if he’d been expecting this reaction.

Sirius raised an eyebrow in question, “Have somewhere to be, do you?”

“Yes actually.”

Sirius sighed before his mouth pulled into a wide cheerful smile choosing to be the bigger person, “Well we’re all sneaking out to Hogsmeade later if you wanted to join us.”

“No thank you. I’m busy,” Y/N said pushing her way from between them and walking away.

“How long are you going to keep this up!?” he yelled after her, irritated.

Y/N froze, anger bubbling through her blood and she turned on her heel slowly to face him.

“What?” she asked slowly, her teeth gritted, and her free hand clenched in a fist.

“Padfoot, don’t,” Remus muttered in warning, placing a hand on Sirius’ arm.

“No Moony,” Sirius said shrugging his hand off, “Someone needs to tell her that enough is enough.”

“Enough? Enough!?” Y/N laughed taking a step closer to Sirius with every sentence. “Enough was when my best friend decided to date my ex despite him breaking my heart not once, not twice but three times! Enough was when my best friend decided to date the boy who left me shattered behind my back! Enough was when my best friends knew about all this and chose to keep it from me!

“Enough was when all my friends left me stranded alone.”

The pain she’d locked up inside washed over her, her knees buckling beneath her. Sirius moved swiftly, gathering her in his arms before she hit rock bottom. Y/N clutched his shirt in her fists, soaking it as she sobbed against his chest.

“I never thought something could hurt this bad,” her voice broke, tugging Sirius’ heartstrings. Y/N’s heart ached; her chest physically hurting as it constricted her heart. The pain was too much to handle; the wound tearing open and blood smearing the ears of whom the sounds of her anguish fell upon.

Sirius had always known a time like this would come. A time when he’d sit there holding the love of his life in his arms as she sobbed into his chest over his best friend, for his brother. And there was nothing he could possibly do about it.

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Better Man. ( Taehyung x Oc)

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 ~ Its okay to want something to end and also be sad that its ending.

With infidelity, its never black and white.

There’s different kinds of infidelity and you can’t ever say which is worse. That depends entirely on the people involved and the values they hold dear. What may be a small indiscretion to someone, may well be an unforgivable act of betrayal to someone else.

And that’s fine. People aren’t one dimensional. We can’t all have the same perspective.

So infidelity is also never one dimensional.

Sometimes its a one night stand. Something done and forgotten. Discarded from the mind like the used condom in the motel room floor.

Sometimes its a dear friend who betrays you, your best friend who apparently always had a thing for your husband and felt perfectly fine making a move on him. That one stings . Because you lose two people. Two very important people at the same time.

Sometimes its a coworker, someone who stays by their side majority of the day. Who offers a sympathetic ear when your husband wants to relax.

Sometimes men just fall out of love and are too much of a coward to say it out loud, opting to cheat on you instead.

Sometimes, they are jealous, of your career, of your kid, or your friends. Too lazy to win your affection they go find satisfaction in some one else’s bed.

Sometimes it never even gets physical. Sometimes its just someone catfishing your husband or sending him nudes.

And sometimes, its an emotional connection. They actually fall deeply in love with someone else and I think, for most women, that would be the one that would sting the most.

With Taehyung, it had been a night of drinking. He had had one drink too many, had tumbled into bed with some trainee a decade younger and had broken our marriage vows.

Not really a very thought out or planned mistake. He hadn’t cheated with the intent to cheat. He had just been too drunk to know better.

So, why did I leave him?

Because it hadn’t been about the cheating.

It had been the drinking.

When we first met, Taehyung couldn’t hold his liquor. Not that it mattered because he didn’t like it all that much. Didn’t mind sipping juice when other’s nursed beers.

But as he grew older, as he grew more successful, he had started accepting drinks from producers and directors and fellow actors... Because, it was rude not to and Kim Taehyung was nothing if not the personification of politeness.

His tolerance hadn’t increased but his drinking had and that was a bad combo.

:”You need to stop doing this Tae. You can’t just come home black out drunk, every time you have an after party.... You’re going to hurt yourself or god forbid someone else... some day and I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to wreck your entire life over a stupid drink....”

It was a speech I had made way too many times. The words recycled and reframed, and rearranged to try and give them more weight , to help him realize how serious the issue was. To help him understand that what he was risking, it wasn’t just his reputation. It was his entire career, his life if he somehow got behind a wheel someday.

And Taehyung, who had won a bunch of Daesangs for his acting always convinced me that he understood what I was trying to say. That he understood the magnitude of my words and would heed them the next time.

So really, what people didn’t understand was that....

That evening, when he stood in front of me and said that he slept with another woman because he got drunk out of his mind, it wasn’t the sleeping with the girl that had bothered me. ( at least not that much. it hurt of course but it wasn’t that strong. it stemmed more from a place of “why didn’t you just ask someone to drive you home, you idiot.”.. rather than, “ how dare you sleep with another woman?” )

It was the got drunk out of my mind thing.

That was what I ended my marriage over.

That was it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The details were hashed out easily and I didn’t particularly protest or change anything. Taehyung suggested an equal division of assets and I quickly disagreed. I wasn’t exactly poor. I worked as the Head of Marketing in a successful conglomerate. I had no use for excessive amounts of money. After some debate we agreed on setting up a trust fund for Hoshi with the money. He could use it after he turned twenty five.

And then came the next part.

Compensation for physical / Mental Damage.

I felt like i was spiraling.

“None On my side. None.” Taehyung said quickly and I swallowed.

Ms Lee gave me an encouraging smile.

“You can be honest Mrs Kim. We’re trying to go for a clean break between the two of you without any resentment carrying over. So its best to be honest. If you feel you need recompense for any emotional distress or abuse Mr. Kim may have put you through, you’re free to tell me. I’ll make sure it goes into record.”

And this was why I hated the idea of getting divorce.

That entire dialogue had sounded so...so... terrible. So accusatory and ugly. It wasn’t at all the way I felt about my husband.

It was just hurt. Plain and simple hurt because he didn’t take me seriously. Because he didn’t think my words were worth listening to. It was hurt laced with fear because he was putting himself in danger with his reckless actions and I wanted him to stop. That’s all it was.

It was hurt.

Taehyung had hurt me but it wasn’t emotional distress. It sure as hell hadn’t been abuse.

“None for me either.” I said firmly, honest .

I glanced at my husband, trying to tell him that I wasn’t just saying it. That it was true. I really didn’t want him to pay me money for what had happened.

But, Taehyung wouldn’t meet my eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung signed over full custody of Hoshi with a smile.

“I trust you. “ He said quietly, penning his initials carefully on the document.

I nodded, feeling a little like drowning.

We had a very comfortable way of doing things as far as our son was concerned. Taehyung got Hoshi anytime he had time off and also on weekends.

With a very shifting schedule it was hard for Taehyung to pin down exact dates so we had long decided we would make things easier for each other. He would call me a day or so in advance and i would drop him off at Taehyung’s penthouse or the company. Special days like birthdays were always celebrated in a neutral place with both parties attending.

Hoshi loved it because it was a pleasant surprise for him, when his dad swooped in out of nowhere and took him off to amusement parks or arcades or swimming. He loved Taehyung .

So the visitation rights were easy to sketch out.

It was nothing new but to have it all put down on paper and initialed and notarized....it just felt invasive. Some judge somewhere would read all about how my marriage had crumbled to ashes and would pass judgment on me and that just felt odd.

Like airing your dirty laundry. Like letting strangers into your bedroom.

And the worst part was this : I felt myself getting upset , anytime Ms. Lee gave the slightest negative connotation to Taehyung’s actions or responsibilities. Anytime she tried to imply that he couldn’t be neglectful as a father, I wanted to jump right up and defend him. To tell her that he was a better father than the ones who lived 24/7 with their kids and didn’t know a damn thing about them.

That even as my husband, he had been so good to me. Had treated me like his best friend, his confidante, his lover. Had never shied away from showing me how much he loved me. Had been the best husband in the whole entire world.

And I hated myself for it.

What was wrong with me?

Why was I still so fiercely protective of him, I wondered. I hated the idea of him being criticized by anyone for any of it.

And it made feel like such a hypocrite because if he was so amazing, why on earth were we here??

Why on earth were we getting a divorce if Kim Taehyung was husband and father of the fucking Year?!!

Was I making a mistake? Had I made a mistake?

It confused me. These feelings that just refused to go away. I would never act on them because therein lay the path to misery but why were they still there?

This desperate clawing urge to make sure he came out of this whole debacle as a good guy. To make sure no one would brand him as a cheater . Because they would. When the divorce went public, they would dig things up and they would know.

I didn’t know how I’d gotten to this point where , I could somehow forget everything that was wrong, simply because I wanted to focus on what felt wrong....

Technically I should be happy.

Taehyung did something unpardonable ( for me, at the time. Now I wasn’t so sure. Now I felt like I could forgive him for it but he hadn’t asked for forgiveness. What he’d asked for was a divorce. ) and I left him. We were separated . And now finally we were getting a divorce.

Divorce meant we could finally get out of this no man’s land of uncertainty where we had hung for two whole years and move on, from each other and finally give a label to where we stood. Exes. We were exes. We were done. It was over.

Hadn’t I just yelled about him about how I liked labels?

And yet,

This entire divorce felt so wrong. So unnecessary.

And in a moment of clarity, as I watched Ms Lee read he whole thing over again for our benefit, I realized why it felt wrong.

It felt wrong because Taehyung was the one who wanted it.

Why did Taehyung want it? What had made him want to end it, officially?

Was he seeing someone else? Was he considering seeing someone else? Did he want to start enjoying the single lifestyle again?

Did he finally take a good long look at our marriage and found nothing worth salvaging anymore?

My head ached.

I couldn’t wait for the whole thing to be over. And yet my heart broke at the thought of it.

Ms Lee finally gathered up all the documents and gave us a wide smile.

“I wish every client I had was this reasonable. You two are a delight .” she shook her head. “ Should we get a drink to celebrate a day well spent?”

I opened my mouth to accept when Taehyung said, “ Sure, but it would have to be a juice for me. I don’t drink.”

I felt my heart take a swoop, nosediving to my knees.

I stared at him, stunned speechless.

“Haven’t had a drink in two years Mia. I’m done with that shit.” He said softly.

I swallowed.

“I didn’t know that.” I felt miserable all of a sudden, the weight of what we had just done pressing down on my heart like a 200 pound stone,

His gaze held mine.

“There’s a lot you don’t know.”

We stood staring at each other in silence and Ms. Lee cleared her throat.

“Uh... I just got a text from my next client. Maybe raincheck on the drinks? “

I nodded , watching her leave. Thank you i wanted to say, but for what?

For ending my marriage of eight fucking years?

And how ridiculous that very thought was. ..... She hadn’t ended our marriage, I had.

“I have the next two days off.” He said casually.

“You can pick Hoshi up from my mom’s place. I need to head back to the office.” I muttered, choking a little on tears that had sprung out of nowhere. .

“Hey.” his fingers closed over my wrists tugging me gently and I let myself get pulled into his arms. I hugged him, feeling my tears soak through the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.” I choked out.

He stroked the back of my head gently.

“Me too. “ He pressed a kiss to my hair and it only made me feel worse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Tae is 35, OC is 32

#taehyung smut #taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #taehyung #taehyung fanfics #bts fanfics #bts smut #bts fanfic

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lilyofthesword-writes · 4 years

Text

Anomaly (Haldir Oneshot)

Summary: Haldir meets you, a member of the Fellowship seeking passage through Lothlorien. Though not a fan of humans, he is curious about you.

Pairing: Haldir x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,111

Warnings/Disclaimers: A curse word. Some violence due to the Battle of Hornburg/Helm’s Deep and Minas Tirith. Injury, mentions of blood.

A/N: This is told more from Haldir’s perspective. Based off another weird dream I had. Threw in a bit of the book as well. Really wanted to get this out cuz my boi needs more love.

Masterlist

Haldir gazed at you from afar while he was on watch that evening. You were... peculiar to him. When he came across the Fellowship trying to pass through the Golden Wood, he never expected to find a human woman in their midst. The world of man was an anomaly to him despite his numerous interactions over hundreds of years. Human women were not granted the same rights and privileges as the men, a foreign to him. This was not the way of Elven culture. Meeting you there was refreshing in a way.

In conversing with Aragorn, he learned you were a soldier of Gondor who had traveled alongside Boromir and joined the Fellowship. You were a fierce warrior but kept a calm air about you. The few human female fighters he had come across, be it on purpose or part of their nature, generally overcompensated, feeling the need to prove themselves constantly. You did not. When the Marchwarden and his company initially surrounded the Fellowship, everyone drew their weapons, ready for the next challenge. You opted to place your hands on Frodo’s and Sam’s shoulders to calm them while Merry and Pippin stood at either side. Instead of fear or anger, Haldir saw an analytical curiosity gleaming in your eyes.

Even now as he kept you in his peripheral, your eyes held a certain light, a light not caused by reflecting the bright moon. It was a kind of serenity most humans rarely portrayed. It didn’t break even as pounding of ambitious orc feet hit the forest floor below. All you did was gently shift your arms that held two sleep-ridden hobbits.

Since the platforms amongst the trees were not large enough to contain both the Fellowship and Haldir’s party together, you had to be split apart. Aragorn kept you, Legolas, Frodo and Sam while Boromir, Gimli, Merry and Pippin rested on a neighboring platform. You had taken to the Hobbits just as much Boromir had, your arms wrapped around them with their heads resting on either shoulder. How you bonded with the curious creatures so well, Haldir would never know. You managed to bring a semblance of peace to their aching hearts, enough so they could rest. He could not imagine it was an easy feat considering all the Fellowship had been through. It made him wonder what Lady Galadriel would make of you.

Upon reaching Caras Galadhon, you practically vibrated with childish delight. Although you had been to Rivendell, you had never seen anything quite like the capital city, that much Haldir was certain. The corners of his mouth tugged into the faintest of smiles when he saw your elated face. He turned away to restore his stoic facade, but unknowingly caught the attention of another. Aragorn shot him a knowing smirk as their eyes met momentarily. Haldir said nothing and continued to lead the way up the stairs spiraling the ancient trees.

Up the stairs, across some bridges and the Fellowship was in the presence of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Haldir bared witness to the interactions from the sidelines. He knew when Lady Galadriel entered each of their minds through their minute expressions. While most struggled to remain slightly neutral to her ministrations, others had a difficult time hiding their horror. You, on the other hand, parted your lips with an acute tilt of your head, not bothering to mask your wonder or amusement.

The meeting came to a close shortly after. Lady Galadriel’s gaze swept over the group, ultimately landing on you. Haldir knew she would call upon you later that evening. Until then, he was tasked with guiding the Fellowship to where they would be resting.

It was long after the others had gone to bed, after Frodo returned from the mirror, when Haldir learned he was correct. He spied you and Lady Galadriel wandering the halls, speaking softly amongst yourselves. What about, he could not say. He swiftly took the next pathway so as not to intrude on your private moment.

Marchwarden. Please come.

Always the obedient one, he turned himself around to join you both.

He greeted the pair of you with a bow.

“Marchwarden,” Lady Galadriel responded with a smile. “Would you be so kind as to escort our guest back to her company? The hour is late, and she deserves just as much rest as her friends.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Haldir held out his arm for you to take which you did after properly bidding Lady Galadriel a good night with a bow. He led you along the walkways, taking his time in doing so. This would more than likely be one of the few times he would be able to speak with you alone. The Fellowship would continue on their quest as soon as possible.

“These woods are truly a wonder. I have never experienced anything quite like it,” you started, breaking the quiet between you, voice so delicate it was hard to believe you were the warrior Aragorn made you out to be.

An agreeing hum quietly rumbled in his throat. “It is a gem of Middle Earth.”

“I must agree. I think I can understand your fierce desire to protect this place, your home.”

“I am sure you wish to protect Gondor just as much. Your dedication to the Fellowship is proof of that.”

“Despite the hardships,” you tried to hide the way you sucked in a breath, “I am glad to be a part of this. They have all become like family to me.”

Gandalf.

Hearing the grief lightly laced in your voice, Haldir stopped and pulled his arm away just enough to take your hand, turning to stand in front of you. With his free hand he cupped your cheek to catch the stray tear that had escaped your lashes. He was at a loss for words. Comforting others was not a skill commonly taught to Marchwardens. You caught his hand before he had a chance to think about retracting it, leaning into his touch. He closed the last bit of distance between you two and stroked the swell of your cheek with his thumb, your eyes shutting to bask in the moment.

An eternity or mere moments passed. Neither of you could tell by the time you finally spoke. “Thank you.”

The day your company was set to leave, Haldir felt a small pang in his heart. Why was he so bothered by your departure? He had only had the one major interaction with you. The rest of his time was spent either training or on patrol, and on patrol really meant him keeping an eye on the Fellowship. You just happened to be around when he took watch, or so he tried to convince himself.

He stood aside as Lady Galadriel offered her gifts to the travelers, giving them each something they would need or want. She bestowed on you a small Elven dagger, tiny enough to conceal in a boot with little discomfort. The Marchwarden, though content you had some extra to defend yourself with, hoped you would never need to use it.

Haldir then brought the Fellowship to the boats where everyone’s belongings were already packed and settled. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you while everyone said their proper farewells, but nothing stopped him from following down river to the borders. He and his troupe had orders to make sure you all reached them safely anyways.

Despite being hidden amongst the trees, it was like you knew he was there. Your head turned towards him as you passed the borders, not making eye contact but still unnervingly close to it. A tiny smile graced your lips before returning to the task at hand.

Helm’s Deep was not where the Marchwarden wanted to be, but he still had his orders. He was charged with leading an Elven army to help defend the kingdom of Rohan. Entering the gates, he was speaking with a perplexed King Théoden when what was left of your party rounded the corner. Your grin shone brightly in the dark when Aragorn surprised him with an embrace.

Haldir found himself both pleased and upset by your presence. While you looked to be in good health, he did not know your full battle prowess and as such was unsure how you would handle the soon-to-be battlefield. However, he never had the chance to voice his concerns as he needed to position his soldiers.

The rain poured when the standoff with the Orcs and Uruk-hai began, pinging off of helmets loudly. Haldir stood among his fellow Elves. Aragorn spread the rest of you out, sending you to the opposite end of Helm’s Deep where Haldir’s view was partially obscured. He could at least see you standing proudly alongside the other men. He could only imagine the fire in your eyes.

When the battle began, it raged with seemingly no good end in sight. A section of the wall had exploded with Aragorn near enough to be caught in the blast. Haldir could hear you bark your clear and concise orders to the men as you rushed to help Aragorn. Upon reaching his feet, Aragorn yelled out the order to retreat further in to better protect the caves the women and children were hiding in. Haldir belayed the orders in his native tongue to his soldiers.

He made sure the soldiers retreated but was unable to do so himself. Surrounded by the enemy on a high ledge, he slashed through them in an attempt to make a path for himself. His weariness had caught up with him as he was hit in the side with a jagged weapon.

“Marchwarden!”

He spun around as someone called him, ready to slice through his assailant. It fell to the ground as he faced it, revealing you with a now broken sword which you cast away. You stepped over the dead enemy to get a better look at him. Haldir clutched his side when you tried to check on his wound.

“How bad is it?”

“You should be retreating,” he tried to dodge the question.

“As should you,” you answered sternly, locking eyes with him. “Are you still able to keep moving?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We must go quickly.”

You reached out to help him when your breath hitched. You lurched towards him, grabbing his free arm to pull him forward, the motion catapulting you behind him. You ripped the dagger from your boot as you continued towards the Orc that had snuck up behind Haldir, and shoved it between the layers of its armor. In the creature’s last breath, it brought down its sword on your shoulder, forcing you to your knees.

Haldir rushed to your side, stabbing the Orc once more for good measure before shoving it off the ledge. He kneeled in front of you, clenching his jaw to ignore the pain in his side, and held you steady by your upper arms. Your eyes were glassing over while you desperately tried to keep your head up to look at him.

He called out your name. “We need to follow the others. Are you able to stand?”

You blinked a few times before hoarsely whispering, “I... I don’t... know.”

Your shoulder bled profusely as Haldir tried to help you stand. He took on most of your weight with your arm over his shoulder. You wouldn’t last much longer without a healer’s attention. Biting back his own pain, he practically carried you down the stairs to solid ground where Aragorn met you. He and what little was left of the soldiers who had not yet retreated formed around the two of you, furiously slicing at the Orcs and Uruk-hai that would stop you from reaching the main halls.

Soldiers who were protecting the doors ushered you inside immediately where Haldir brought you into the caves for the healers to watch over. One tried to make him sit momentarily to tend to his own injury, but he brushed them away. He could still continue. His ribs were probably bruised, if not broken, but his armor kept the damage from being life threatening. He promptly left to speak with Aragorn about the next plan of attack. He would be damned if he allowed any of those foul beings to pass into the caves to finish the job.

The battle was won, Gandalf having arrived with reinforcements right when they needed him most. When victory was assured, the Marchwarden wasted no time in returning to the caves where you lay unconscious. The healers bandaged you to the best of their abilities given the circumstances, and you were at least breathing steadily.

Much to the surprise of his fellow elves and your company, Haldir rarely left your side, even during the trek back to Edoras. He was still there when you woke safely in the Golden Halls of Meduseld.

Your eyes struggled to open as you stirred awake. “Wh-what happened?” Your voice was hoarse from sleep and lack of water.

“You were struck down, Mellon nin.” Haldir brushed a rogue strand of hair from your forehead and placed his hand on yours. “We were able to retreat to the caves.”

“And the battle?” Your arms shook as you tried to sit up and lean your weight on your good side. “The outcome?”

The Marchwarden tried to settle you back down, but you would not relent. “We were victorious. Gandalf arrived with reinforcements at dawn and drove the enemy out.”

You began to relax at that before another question flooded your mind. “What about-”

“Your friends are well,” he chuckled at your persistence. “They are preparing to leave for Isengard soon. Word has returned that it has fallen.”

Before you had a chance to ask another question, he helped you sit up the rest of the way so as not to aggravate your wound further with your stubbornness and handed you a glass of water. You drank it slowly despite your need to relinquish your thirst.

“Thank you.” You passed the glass back to him, your voice clearer now. “When do they leave?”

“Tomorrow morning, I believe,” Haldir answered and coaxed you to lay back down.

You nodded with a hum. “I suppose I should rest more, then. If there is a chance that Merry and Pippin are there and well, I would like to be there.”

“Mellon nin, your injury is not yet healed.”

“A mere shoulder wound will not prevent me from riding to Isengard,” you huffed.

“It is nothing to scoff at. Mellon nin, you almost died,” he pleaded with you, taking one of your hands in both of his.

“Haldir, I still have my duty to the Fellowship. I cannot abandon them.”

“Tending to your health is not abandoning anyone,” he spoke softly as he ran a thumb across your knuckles. “You will still be able to continue your quest when you have healed.”

You sighed deeply, looking to the ceiling as though collecting your thoughts. “I just... This is something I feel like I need to do.”

A deafening silence showered the room. Haldir studied you for a moment, your unencumbered hand fiddling with the sheets. Your mind was made up, and there was nothing he could do.

“Mellon nin,” he breathed, reaching for your face so you would look at him. “You will not let this go, will you?”

You shook your head with determined yet pleading eyes.

He squeezed your hand gently. “Then, I suppose all I can ask of you is to get your rest tonight.”

“Thank you.” With a smile, your thumb glided over his.

He made to stand so you could sleep in peace without him hovering. As he pulled his hand away, you gripped it tighter.

“Haldir? Will you stay? At least until I fall asleep? I am not sure I wish to be alone right now.”

Taken aback, he stood there dumbly before retaking his seat. “Of course, Mellon nin.”

The next morning, the remaining members of the Fellowship gathered at the stables. Aragorn was in the middle of trying to convince you to stay behind. Gandalf stood out of the way with Gimli, biting back a laugh at Aragorn’s futile efforts, while Haldir and Legolas prepared the horses.

“You will only worsen your injury,” Aragorn chided.

You folded your arms defiantly across your chest. “One trip on horseback is not so arduous.”

“She has already made up her mind, Aragorn. I doubt you will be able to change it,” Gandalf chimed in.

Haldir was tightening the saddle on the horse that would carry you so it was more secure when Legolas silently sidled up to him. “You have already said your peace, have you not?”

“What makes you say that?” Haldir twisted the saddle to test it.

“You have barely left her side since our victory. You must have spoken with her before now,” Legolas quipped.

“Indeed, I have.”

“Then, surely in your fondness of her you would have tried to convince her to stay behind.”

“Fondness?” Haldir stilled a moment before adjusting the straps again. “We are friends, Legolas. Nothing more.”

“Then why is it you have been meticulously preparing this one horse whilst I have already saddled three?” Legolas shot him a pointed smirk.

The Marchwarden felt himself flush all the way to the tips of his ears. “She is still injured. I- We cannot risk her hurting herself further.”

Legolas held his chuckle in his throat as a hum. “The sooner you stop attempting to fool yourself, Mellon-”

“Alright, you may join us!” Aragorn growled with a huff, stealing the attention of the bickering elves. “However, the moment a battle should arise, you are to return here.”

“Of course,” you complied, a stubborn edge to your voice.

Aragorn’s heavy sigh was littered with grit. “Are the horses ready?”

Haldir and Legolas nodded swiftly.

“Good. Let us be on our way.”

You made your way to the Marchwarden who was beckoning you over.

“Are you sure there is nothing I can do to change your mind, Mellon nin?” he asked softly.

“I am, yes.”

You flashed a smile at him before placing a foot in the stirrup. Haldir remained hovering near you. Your shoulder strained as you willed your arms to reach the saddle, steadying yourself as you pushed down on the stirrup to lift yourself up. Midway up, you lost your grip as your shoulder suddenly gave out. Haldir was quick to press a hand to your back to stop your fall. He noticed how your jaw tensed to grind out what was obviously the pain of your wound, but you were still determined to mount the horse.

“Here.” He gripped your waist. “I apologize if this seems forward.”

He raised you enough so you could swing your leg over the saddle, letting you go the moment you had your balance.

“N-not at all. Thank you.”

You held the reins tightly as you settled down, knuckles turning white like it could make everything better. Haldir felt his chest tighten and covered one of your hands with his own, eyes filled with concern. Your head snapped down to meet his gaze. With a reassuring yet forced smile, you attempted to relax your muscles to conceal just how much your injury hurt, but he saw right through it.

With a heavy sigh and shake of his head, he took hold of the saddle and hoisted himself up behind you.

“What are you-”

“If your pain is that severe, you shall not ride alone,” Haldir interrupted, finality in his tone.

“Haldir, this is not necessary,” you argued as he pulled the reins from your hands.

Legolas slinked by with Gimli on their horse, sending you two a knowing smile. The Marchwarden’s blush bled to his ears again. He didn’t notice your own flushed face.

Haldir cleared his throat. “Let us go before we fall behind.”

The journey to Isengard was quiet and uneventful. Partway through the trip, you finally allowed yourself to relax, not realizing you were leaning back into Haldir. Though bemused, he was not about to protest.

Collecting Merry and Pippin was as simple as it was amusing. They were most excited about reuniting with their companions. It was on the ride back that you and Haldir overheard their teasing about you sharing a horse. Aragorn and the others bit back grins and commentary of their own.

The festivities that followed upon returning to Edoras were no better, the ale at least partly to blame. The Marchwarden and what remained of his soldiers were settled near Legolas who was currently in the middle of a drinking match with Gimli. You had yet to arrive. Eowyn was the only reason Haldir was not at your side forcing you to rest. She tended to your shoulder, promising to return you for the celebration. He would have preferred you did not come for the sake of your health, but as long as you were not overexerting yourself again, he would not complain.

He swirled the ale in his mug after taking a swig, mulling over recent events. Usually he was not one to allow his emotions control his actions, and yet he was doing that much more often now. He felt like he couldn’t help himself. There was this overwhelming desire to keep you safe, keep you close, regardless of the fact that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself. Haldir had caught a glimpse of your abilities at Helm’s Deep. There was a reason you had gone to Rivendell with Boromir and joined the Fellowship.

As if to break him of his spiraling thoughts before they grew out of control, one of his neighboring elves nudged his arm, winking and motioning him to look up. He lifted his gaze, about to make a remark for the elf’s teasing, when he saw Eowyn stepping into the room with you close at her side.

The music, shouts, laughter - they all faded away from his ears. You practically radiated light despite your nervous self on display. Eowyn had lent you one of her dresses, the fabric draping differently on your frame from hers yet no less perfect. She caught Haldir’s gawking and whispered something in your ear with a smirk. You glanced up to see him but dipped your head back down to where your hair curtained your tiny, bashful smile. Eowyn was quick to tuck the offending hair behind your ear. She giggled and murmured to you again, resulting in your flustered rush to join your companions.

Haldir focused on his ale once again. The elf who had coaxed him into looking up bumped his arm. Without saying a word, he was fully encouraging his captain to go to you. The elves in his company had never seen their normally reserved, stoic Marchwarden act like this before, and they thought it a fantastic development. They all joined in pestering him to at least ask you for a dance. It took a while, but his stubbornness crumbled, and he brought himself to his feet only to notice you were missing from your company. He scanned the crowds, hoping to spot you. Maybe someone else had already asked you to dance. That theory was thankfully doused when he spied the swish of your dress through a door leading outside.

Following and stepping out into the cool night air, he found you leaning forward on the wooden railing, gazing up at the stars. Your hair sparkled under the dim light. He realized tonight was the first time he had seen you without it tied or braided back out of the way.

“Mellon nin,” Haldir called to you softly so as not to startle you. “Are you alright?”

You turned to see him just outside of the door and nodded with a tired smile. “Yes. I just felt I needed some fresh air and a moment away from the crowd.”

“I apologize for disturbing you. I will-”

“No!” You cut him off quickly. “I mean... You did not disturb anything. You can stay if you would like.”

The corners of Haldir’s lips tugged upwards ever so slightly as he approached you, joining you in your previous stargazing. The peaceful quiet of the night muffled the festivities in the building. He felt you cover his hand with your own accompanied by a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you, Haldir, for everything,” your voice was just above a whisper.

“I should be thanking you, Mellon nin,” he shook his head, his other hand coming to grasp yours. “If you had not come for me, I would not be at your side now.”

A breathy chuckle passed your lips. “I suppose we are even then.”

Haldir hummed questioningly.

“Had you not brought me with you whilst retreating, then I would not be at your side now.” You parroted the last words with a grin.

The Marchwarden’s shoulders shook with a quiet laughter. “I cannot argue against that.”

You set your free hand on top of your conjoined ones as you leaned against his shoulder. A comforting silence befell you both. That is until you heard chittering giggles from behind. The pair of you turned to see Merry and Pippin poking their heads from the doorway, followed by Aragorn who proceeded to drag them back inside and shot you a wink as he did so.

Gondor had called for aid. Rohan answered. The army’s camp was set up, and Aragorn had a plan. Haldir received orders for his company to continue helping Rohan and meet with Elrond to receive more explicit directions.

The morning for departure arrived, and Aragorn was set to travel to the Paths of the Dead. Legolas, Gimli, Haldir and you were to join him. Haldir’s soldiers were to follow King Théoden into battle. You all stood wearily at the start of the trail, feeling the ominous air seeping down to the bone.

Haldir brushed his hand against your elbow for your attention. “May I speak with you privately?”

You looked up at him with worried eyes and nodded, probably guessing what this was about. He pulled you to the side just out of earshot of the others.

He steeled himself with a deep breath. “I must insist you do not join us, Mellon nin.”

“But Haldir, I-”

“Please, Meleth nin,” he desperately pleaded, not meaning to let the new term of endearment slip. Tenderly cupping your face with both hands, he continued, “None of us know how this will end. We... We may not come back. I beg of you to please stay with Eowyn.”

His voice was hushed, afraid it would break if he attempted to speak any louder. He knew his emotions were on full display, but he could not bring himself to care. What mattered was keeping you safe.

“Haldir...” you trailed off, grasping at his wrists with the utmost care to keep them in place. You gave a quick nod and tried to conceal your worried frown. “Alright. However. You had better- You all had better return.”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “I will do everything in my power to do just that.”

The Marchwarden was among the Fellowship in Minas Tirith when he saw a barely conscious Eowyn being carried into the Houses of Healing. Panic coursed through his veins. You were nowhere to be found. He rushed over to her as she was laid on a bed.

“Lady Eowyn, what happened?”

She nearly didn’t recognize him. All of her effort was put into focusing on his words.

“Lady Eowyn, please. Where is she?” He held his breath like it would help him hear better.

With a tiny shake of her head, she croaked quietly, “I am sorry... We... We were separated... in battle... I know not... her fate...”

Haldir stepped aside to allow the healers in. His heart was at a standstill. Had he known Eowyn was going to sneak her way into the army, he would have pleaded with you to return to Rohan. Your injury did not have the time to fully heal. Fighting in such a strenuous battle would do you no good. He needed to find you. He needed to know that you were well.

Bursting through the doors, he raced down the stairs for the lower levels, Aragorn shouting something after him. He did not hear a word. Canopies were set up and homes were open near the gate for the soldiers who were unable to reach the Houses of Healing. Haldir weaved through the injured in a desperate attempt to find you. He’d rather discover you here as long as you were among the living.

After a fruitless search under the canopies, he began entering the opened homes. He asked anyone able for a person matching your description. Nothing. Nothing until he reached the last home. There you were towards the back of the room. An older woman had just stepped away from helping you. The armor you had borrowed like Eowyn was in a pile to the side. He could see the bandage on your thigh through the tear in your trousers, but other than that you came away from the battle fairly unharmed. How you managed that with a preexisting injury was a mystery to him.

“Meleth nin,” Haldir breathed, making his way to you. This time he meant to use the term.

Somehow, you heard him over the throng of people, your gaze meeting his. “Haldir!”

You rose to your feet a little too quickly and swayed unintentionally to put your weight onto your good leg. Haldir darted to you just in time, bringing you into his embrace.

“You’re alright...” He rested his forehead on yours just like before you departed, completely forgetting those around you. “I was beginning to think my search was for naught.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you buried your face in his chest. “Haldir, I... I’m so sorry. I know you meant to keep me from harm-”

“Shhh,” he cooed, settling his chin on the crown of your head. “I know. There is no need to apologize. All that matters is that you are here and well.”

Your light chuckle vibrated through him. “You are much too patient with me.”

“I assume you are not familiar with that.”

“You would be right.” He could feel your cheeks lift as you smiled. “Most tend to leave when I grow stubborn.”

Haldir shifted his face so it rested in your hair, murmuring into your scalp, “I am not going anywhere, Meleth nin.”

The world of man was still an anomaly to him. You were an anomaly within that world, and he wouldn’t have you any other way.

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