#Five Things the Other Doctor Whispered in Rose's Ear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eleni-cherie · 3 months

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a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.6

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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The inside of the embassy looked much like the outside let assume.

Fancy furniture with tasteful vases and decoration, wallpaper-covered walls and paintings hanging on them. A big mirror placed across from the entrance hall caught their attention, seeing themselves in it when entering. Their eyes lingered on their reflection a little longer. They looked like actually belonging there along with the other guests.

Taehyung gently guided her to the direction string music was heard from, following the other attendees inside. As they entered the ball room, she let the blazer fall from her shoulders, returning it to him.

"So, what's the plan?" Cassandra whispered, eyeing everyone around them eagerly as he put it back on. "Eavesdropping on a diplomat? Observing the guests? Keeping track of the security? I counted five guards nearby so far."

He chuckled at how serious she was taking her role, flattening the collar of his shirt. "First, I have to meet the guys. They sneaked in my gun, so I gotta get it from them."

Right, made sense. He couldn't have sneaked it in with the metal detector at the entrance.

"Oh okay, and what am -"

"You'll take your seat at our designated table and wait, okay?" Before she could even revolt, Taehyung tapped his in-ear and pivoted towards the back of the room only to disappear in the sea of well-dressed people.

Cassandra huffed, taking a handful of tulle into her fists before trotting to the direction of the tables at the side. The invitation said she'd be at table 16 and soon she spotted the card with the number. And the place card with her fake name on it.

Ms Cassandra Vasques. A fake research scientist in the medical field.

At least the field of profession wasn't so far off. Probably chosen on purpose by Jimin to minimize the potential of her blowing her cover. A medical researcher was easier than pretending being an international lawyer or engineer.

With disappointment spreading inside her, she took a seat and propped her chin into her palm. As if her insecurities hadn't been enough, now she was left to sit there alone like a loser. Besides, she could swear the old lady in her dark blue dress sitting at the table next to hers was scrunching her nose at her. Great.

Cassandra's arms instinctively folded in front of her in an attempt to cover the décoleté, although she could spot some other ladies with similar deep necklines or daring side-cuts while still managing looking classy.

She dragged a breath when sensing someone approaching her. A waiter from the look of his red vest and the silver tablet he was holding.

"May I take your order?"

"Red wine and.. and any cocktail you have with blue curacao, please." The waiter rose a mildly startled brow but only gave her a bow before leaving again.

If she had to go through this night feeling like a fool she might at least enjoy herself with a cocktail. She rarely got to drink any, so might as well tonight.

The drinks arrived soon and she immediately took a few sips of the deep light blue drink. Contently wiggling her shoulders when tasting the sweet-sour taste.

Unsure if much time passed or she simply drank too quickly, something she tended to unfortunately despite a cocktail's high alcohol percentage, her drink had eventually reached the lower half of the glass.

She felt a light buzz taking over, her mind beginning to float lightly and a sheepish smile plastered over her lips as she observed the people dancing to the string quartet's music in the dimly lit ballroom. Making her head sway to its rhythm, mimicking their movements.

She wasn't drunk, nor really tipsy. She had only begun to loosen up a little when she decided to take another sip before checking her make-up, just in case. The small pocket mirror in her purse coming in handy, she noticed that of course some of the the brownish-red lipstick had faded by now and she attempted to fix it with the lipstick she'd bought, when the reflexion of something black appeared behind her. Her eyes narrowed and in a mindless move, she turned her head and let the lipstick disappear back inside the purse.

Taehyung was standing behind her, having returned and now glancing down at her with a soft grin on his face. His hand stretched out towards her.

She looked at it suspiciously, making him laugh under his breath.

"May I have this dance?"

Cassandra shrugged, not try hiding she was sulky of him abandoning her among strangers. All her social awkwardness she thought she'd left behind in university, resurfacing after all in an unknown environment.

"Sure, but I have no clue how to dance."

Taehyung noticed her sullen mood but decided not to go into it and instead make up for his, admittedly, unpolite behaviour.

"You're lucky I don't mind you stepping on my feet."

Somehow this along with his boyish naive smile managed coaxing out a small laugh from her after all and her expression softened. Usually she wasn't so fast in giving in, but he made it easy.

Eventually, she placed her hand in his bigger one and let his fingers close around it and Taehyung gently pulled her up from her seat. Leading her through the crowd, until they reached the centre of the dancefloor. A clear vision of the band playing on the stage. Along with a clear sight on the French embassandor. Cassandra looked behind her to see what he was looking at and recognised the man. She hadn't attended totally unprepared after all, having looked up photos of him and his wife online, remembering Taehyung's task - which naively enough also in some way felt like hers, too - to keep an eye on the embassandor and warn the others if he attempted to leave and go upstairs.

Another couple bumped into her, not paying attention while dancing and she redirected her focus on Taehyung. He held her hand firmly, his other arm loosely wrapped around her waist. Pulling her closer in the narrow space, to prevent her from bumping into another person. And Cassandra swallowed at the almost non-existent gap between their chests.

"You have something.. there." He gestured to the corner of his lips and she frowned for a moment before realising she must've smudged the lipstick when seeing him behind her. And she cursed under her breath because of course, her clumsiness just never gave her a break.

"Wait, I -" She attempted to let go and get her purse but his thumb was already wiping off the faint smudge and she paused startled. Her eyes blinking rapidly. "T-thanks."

He nodded, his hand going back to holding hers as they began to move among the others.

"I really don't know how to dance, I wasn't joking," she mumbled embarrassed as she felt her feet almost tripping with every move, glancing up at him with an apologetical smile. He only breathed out a chuckle and she felt her skin tingling where his hands were laying on her.

"Just follow the rhythm." His mellow voice almost drowning in the soft melody around them.

It was so strange. Like a fever-dream. Swaying with him among strangers who were most likely by far more important and wealthy than her. She felt like Cinderella. A poor maid in disguise at the king's ball, dancing with prince charming himself.

And as they kept moving, her body following his eloquent moves, she felt the tingle develop into a burning, spreading on every inch of her skin like wildfire. And she wasn't sure if it was the liquor, opening her blood vessels on its surface, or the warmth of his touch that caused it.

There had always been an attraction simmering under the surface for Taehyung, she couldn't deny that. It'd been there four years ago when she'd first met him and it'd still been there over a year ago when meeting him again.

However, Cassandra had never dared to see him as more than a friend before, knowing it would've been pointless with their vastly different lives.

But moving along his lead under the sparkling lights of the dimlit room in such close proximity along with the palm of his hand leaving her waist to lay flat right at the ribbon on her lower back, made her feel deezy.

Right now, her mind had completely shut down and all she could hear was her beating heart putting her skin on fire and all she could see was his dark irises, getting lost in their depth - along with that damn lonely curl on his forehead.

She was an internist. She knew the neuro-biology behind attraction, inflatuation, sex and even the feeling of love.

Neurotransmitters, hormones, endorphines.

At the end, it all came down to serotonine, dopamine, β-endorphine and noradrenaline.

She also knew, however, that this cocktail of messengers alone would only cause a feeling of happiness, lust and content, no deeper feelings. It was humans themselves putting meanings into them. And right now, Taehyung was causing her neurological system to have a complete meltdown.

His hand slid off from her lower back then and he stepped back, making her spin before stepping in and catching her again. And she held her breath for a moment before giggling, seeing an equal amused glint in his eyes. His hand finding her waist again. "Would've never guessed you'd be such a good dancer," she teased. Her natural response to distract from her flustered face.

He shrugged non-chalantly, spinning her again. Her giggles making him smile while he glanced above people's heads. Spotting the embassandor talking with other guests next to a pillar at the side.

"Picked up some moves at all these sleazy parties we attended."

"Mhm, to dance with all the pretty girls I see.." she grinned.

He only breathed a laugh, his attention back to Cassandra. Sensing her hand gliding from his chest to his back. Briefly brushing over the pistol grip that stuck out from the waistband and pressed onto his lower back under the suit jacket.

A slower song began playing and she leaned her head against his shoulder to rest her - surely alcohol-induced - spinning head. And they began moving slower. His breathing hitching along with their movement.

Her eyes closed then and she let herself take in the feeling of Taehyung holding her in his broad arms like this. Forgetting completely where they were and why. For just a minute, she wanted to be in a bubble of her own instead.

Taehyung smiled to himself, pressing his cheek against her sweet-scented curls.

The bare curve of her back fit perfectly under his fingertips and he wondered if that was even possible or if he just made things up by now. Like the aching in his chest and the cloudiness of his mind at the feeling of Cassandra's delicate body swinging in his arms.

"No, you're the only pretty one so far."

His thoughts mindlessly slipped out of his lips, not meant to actually be said out loud. And the thief realised he had to snap out of whatever this was he was letting himself get lost in.

They were only there as a cover so he could keep an eye out for the job.

And moreover, Cassandra was a friend. A dear friend. One of those friends you didn't need to see every day to know they were there. A friend who, no matter how much time apart, it would always feel like not even a day had passed by since the last time you'd joked with them. No matter how far away, they still cared for you. And you for them.

That was the kind of friend Cassandra was to him. A special one. He knew, after all, that a friendship like this wasn't a given. Especially considering his busy and beyond legal life.

So no, he couldn't allow himself to feel anything beyond that. He couldn't allow himself to dwell or surrender to that looming feeling. Or the way his chest contracted irregularly when sensing her fingers fisting his suit jacket when hearing his words.

Cassandra's heart skipped a beat at his warm breath brushing over her ear and she swallowed. She wanted to believe she knew him well enough to know he'd never say something ingenuine, he wasn't the type to wrap others around his finger just for fun.

"Glad my dress is 'fitting' enough," she quietly joked, reciting his previous choice of words to ease the sudden tension between them. His chest vibrating against her cheek.

"Mh, green is my favourite colour."

Her eyes fluttered open at this and she slightly heaved her head to look at him.

"You're lucky, then," she smirked, "If it was available in blue or red, I'd have chosen them instead."

"Huh." His lips shaped a small grin. "Are these your favourite colours? Blue and red?"

"Mhm, and their pastel shades."

He nodded, licking over his suddenly dry lips. "Yeah, I can see that. Emeralds, sapphires, rubies.."

She faked offence with a pout then to keep herself from blushing. "No diamonds?"

For a moment, he simply stared at her dark-frame eyes, mesmerized and perhaps a bit bewitched by their intenser look that night. "Diamonds are awfully common, they wouldn't suit you," he said matter-of-factly as they danced in a circle. The song changing into a more up-beat one. "They just became popular thanks to good PR."

Her lips formed a small 'o'. "Really? I didn't know that." Intentionally dismissing the subtle compliment between his words - unsure if she could handle herself otherwise - she was surprised by this information, seeing him nod.

She hummed then, looking away for a second before giving him an amused smile.

"Wow, what good promo can do. So no diamonds then.. good thing I was never a big fan of them anyway."

His brows rose, not having expected that as most people were, thanks to aforementioned advertisement.

"No?"

"No, though there's one exception.."

Now he was intrigued. "And what would that be?"

Her lips curled and she bit back a cheeky grin. "I wouldn't say no to a pink diamond like the Pink Panther."

At this Taehyung couldn't help but burst out laughing with a chesty sound. Of course she'd be referring to a classic heist film, he thought. His head falling back before he tried containing himself as a few people around them already glanced in utter bewilderment at his sudden amusement.

Flashing her a square grin then, still chuckling. "A pink diamond would suit you indeed."

Cassandra smiled contently and placed her head back onto his shoulder. Feeling her cheeks warm. "Thank you."

His glance left her then and instead wandered up, looking around in the sea of important people and to the direction of his main person of interest. Only to freeze, coming to an abrupt halt.

The embassandor was gone from his spot and nowhere to be seen.

Dammit, he wasn't able to spot him.

Cassandra frowned, mirrowing his expression. "What h-"

"Come," he said in a stern tone and tugged at her hand. Rushing out of the crowd. "I lost sight of him," he explained over his shoulder when reaching the spot he had last seen him at.

Her eyes widening in mild panic as well, now also frantically looking around.

With quick steps, he held her close to him as they left the ball room. His eyes intense and it worried her, the last time she'd seen that expression on them was when they'd been chased through Barcelona half a year ago.

He scanned their surroundings, his eyes seemingly a shade darker and he tapped his in-ear transmitter then. "Guys? Stay alert, I lost sight of him."

"What?" Jimin's raised voice was heard from the other line. "How? Weren't you paying attention?"

"I-" He briefly peeked at Cassandra. Feeling disappointed in himself for acting like a noob and letting himself get distracted. "I shortly lost focus," he eventually muttered.

"Yeah, can imagine with what," his friend chuckled then and he felt his cheeks turning red.

"We're almost done," Yoongi spoke up then, "Just make sure he isn't entering his office in the next ten minutes."

"Got it."

According to the blueprint, the office was in the second floor, at the end of the left corridor. Right there where Jimin and Yoongi were located at right now.

He took a last glance into the ball room, ensuring he hadn't missed him.

"Can you see him?"

Cassandra shook her head. "No, but I can see his wife. Wait."

Before Taehyung even realised she had left his side, she was already walking up to the embassandor's wife, a blond woman in her forties in a deep lavender-coloured dress currently holding a martini while chatting with another woman. Only when he saw her green dress flowing a few metres away from him, he realised what she was planning to do. His eyes widening, about to run after her and hold her back when the blonde turned and smiled at Cassandra. The three women began to chat away for a moment. Cassandra giggling at something the brunette woman in the blue dress said, bowing at her before walking back to him.

Already spotting Taehyung's inquiring look. "What did you-"

"Her husband apparently lost his cufflink and went to replace it with another pair in his office. He's supposed to deliver a speech in fifteen minutes and didn't want to do it without it."

"How did-"

She shrugged, cutting him off. "I just introduced myself with the fake name and explained my work in the medical field. The other woman was the leader of a women's health organisation, I recognised her. So it was easy to strike a conversation. Then I casually wondered where the gala's host was and she told me."

His lips parted, taken aback by how smoothly she obtained the information, almost reminding him of the other smooth-talker he knew, Jimin. However, something else caught his attention then.

"Office you said?"

She nodded.

Fck.

He slid off his suit jacket, wrapping it around her shoulder. "Wait outside for me, okay?"

"Wh-why? Where are you going?"

"Saving their asses."

And with that he ran off, leaving her back. Again. If she didn't know better she'd have thought he was Cinderella and it was close to midnight.

Holding his blazer tightly, Cassandra went back to the ball room, passing by the dancing crowd and towards their table where she picked up her purse before making her way out of the stuffy atmosphere. Past the foyer with the big mirror which she intentionally ignored and exiting the building, the cool night air hitting her heated skin.

- Heated from the drinks and the heat from so many people in the room of course.

At least there were also other guests lingering around there. Some only now arriving, others gathered in small groups for a smoke.

She held the suit jacket closer to herself when she felt several pairs of eyes on her, stepping more to the side where she hopefully wouldn't gain any attention. And she waited.

Usually, she wasn't someone who liked being in the dark, but she understood this wasn't a common situation for her. Her only role was to get Taehyung in, nothing else. She was supposed to stay out of trouble. So she tried actually listening this time and simply let him do his job.

However, after awhile she felt bored and didn't know what exactly to do with herself, so she observed other guests when suddenly faint pop-sounds echoed above her.

She glanced up, unable spotting anything out of the ordinary that could've caused it. It seemed like nobody else had heard it though, most likely due to the loud background noises of chatter and music.

Minutes passed and she grew more impatient while waiting outside in the chilly air, another sound being heard then. This time it was a creaking from around the corner.

The young woman tensed, again no one else but her having heard it. Sparkling her curiosity once again, she turned around the corner only to be almost hit by someone landing right in front of her on the grass. And she squealed, clutching her purse tightly until realising it was none other than Taehyung who had appeared out of nowhere.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered in a hiss as he brushed over his black dress shirt. His hair dishevelled by now.

He quickly pressed a finger to his lips then, shushing her. And with wonderous eyes she observed him sliding the magnum out from between his waistband along with a small cylinder. Screwing it onto the gun barrel. Next, he pressed himself against the wall, peeking around the corner and aiming at the side-building on the opposite side of the courtyard.

He knew they were at a blind spot which the guards couldn't spot, but if he leaned out too much he'd be caught by them so he had to act quick and careful.

His tongue slightly darted out as he focused, firing one precise shot at a window in the first floor then. Everyone present stirred up at the shilling sound and the security from the entrance immediately rushed inside. The people who had been outside in the courtyard all looked up at the window while raising their voices in confusion. Confused mumbles about what it could've been, some guessing a stone having been thrown. No one having guessed a gunshot as the silencer prevented it creating a loud enough noise for the to hear with the background buzzing.

Content by their reactions, Taehyung tapped his in-ear then. "Quick."

At his command, Yoongi's head followed by Jimin's appeared out of the window in the second floor. And the two began climbing out the windowsill to slid down the gutter pipe. Half-way through though they slipped and landed in the bushes beneath them, with butts first.

Taehyung and Cassandra stifling a laugh at the hilarious sight.

"Haha funny."

"Well, quite an elegant way to go," Yoongi chuckled in self-irony as he picked leaves out of his hair.

"Something that wouldn't have happened if someone had done his job correctly," Jimin coughed then. A knowing smirk on his lips as he glanced at Taehyung from the corner of his eye. Before the younger one could counter something though, he already waved him off. "Anyway. Let's get out of here before they notice."

They nodded, Taehyung turning to her then. "Cas, wait at the gate for a few minutes. We'll get the car and pick you up."

"Wh-"

"Just trust me, okay?"

She swallowed at his look of appeal and nodded. Watching them sneak behind the bushes to the very back of the high metal fence, which immedietally subjected to Yoongi's katana as if it was nothing but butter under a knife. And the three escaped from the hole and into the night.

Perplexed and a little unsure, Cassandra slowly walked out and making sure no one had seen her appearing from behind the corner when she heard loud voices coming from the open window in the second floor. Security probably having entered the office.

Acting as if she hadn't had a clue about what had gone down, she innocently walked across the courtyard and through the corridor to the entrance. The grip around Taehyung's suit jacket firm when she entered the chill night at the open street. Even humming while letting her gaze wonder around, pretending she didn't notice any of the uproar from inside the building. Glancing at her imaginary watch then, she acted as if she was waiting for someone and they were late which technically was true.

Finally, the familiar black limousine appeared in front of her and she hurried to the backseat where Yoongi greeted her with a nod. And they drove off.

"Alright. What even happened?" she asked then, a rush of adrenaline still running through her veins as she began shifting in her seat and glancing at each of them.

Taehyung dragged out a tired breath from the passenger seat, recalling the events of the past twenty minutes. How the embassandor had indeed been heading to his office. How Taehyung had to knock out a security guard to create a commotion in the first floor for the embassandor and his security to go check out. And then him escaping by climbing out the window before they reached the source. "Nothing."

Cassandra blinked with a scoff. "Nothing? Seriously now?"

"Just had to do create a little distraction."

Was that the noise she had heard? "What distraction?"

He smirked into his palm that was propping up his chin. "Oh, you know. Had to get a little creative." By basically making his own firecrackers.

"Don't worry, love, no one saw us and we got what we were there for," Jimin smiled brightly from behind the steering wheel, glancing at her in the rear-view window before adding with a wink, "Nice dress, by the way. I can see why Taehyungie got so distracted."

Taehyung's brows rose at this, his hand slipping from his chin. He probably would've fought his friend if he hadn't been driving right now, surpassing cars at speed limit.

"This had nothing to do with anything," he said with a scowl, keeping his voice calm and unphased. Cassandra only folded her lips, nodding to ensure she believed him. His attention then returning to Jimin. "And you, can you not flirt with any female for just five minutes?"

He was just glad he had offered her his blazer so they didn't actually get to see the whole dress or otherwise Jimin wouldn't have stopped pestering her.

He heard the master thief groan in annoyance then. His gleeful mood by their successful stunt, sullening with Taehyung's irrational agitation. "Man, chill. She looks good, that's all I said."

"It's alright, seriously," Cassandra giggled bemused by their quarreling, patting Taehyung's shoulder reassuringly from the back. She leaned over between the seats then to flash Jimin an appreciating grin. "And thanks. Wasn't quite sure about it so I'm glad someone likes it."

Jimin's eyes widened at this, peeking at Taehyung dumbfounded. "Don't tell me I'm the only one who complimented you tonight."

"Well," she laughed under her breath and sat back, "I also heard it'd be 'fitting' for the occasion. I took that as a compliment."

"I-it definitely was," Taehyung assured, earning an eye-roll from Jimin who found him unbelievable.

"You do look good," Yoongi spoke up then from beside her. Giving her a small encouraging smile, which she reciprocated happily.

"Thank you, Yoongi!" It felt great to hear all these compliments, even if it was just out of politeness.

Her eyes briefly wandered to the passenger seat then, lingering there a moment when an inaudible sigh escaped her. Adverting her eyes from him then and instead looking out at the passing buildings across the illuminated Danubian bank.

As they turned into a side-street and away from the river, Jimin's phone vibrated in his pocket. Cassandra didn't really think much of it, but Yoongi and Taehyung exchanged an alerted glance. There were only two reasons someone would call him after all.

Either it was Arabella, wanting to persuade him into helping her out again or it was interpol being on their tail.

Honestly, they didn't know which one was the worse trouble.

By the light scowl on Jimin's face, though, and the lack of flirting and heart-eyes while speaking to the caller, it was most likely not Arabella.

"Alright, thanks dear," he said then and ended the call. A groan leaving his lips before he faced them with an uneasy laugh. "Well, seems like pops found our hide-out. The nice old neighbour called me. I'd asked her to let me know if someone showed up and she said some tall, handsome guys with trenchcoats were questioning them."

"Sounds like pops and his entourage," Yoongi nodded, being glad Jimin was charming enough to convince nice old ladies to help them out and inform them if cops showed up, "How far is the airport?"

"Pops? You mean that interpol agent?" Cassandra's eyes grew twice in size when recalling that nickname, "He found you here? How?"

They shrugged. "That's his job, after all. He'd quite suck if he didn't do it right occasionally," Jimin chuckled, taking a sharp turn and earning some honking from other drivers.

"You think it'd be smart to head to the airport now though?" Taehyung wondered out loud then, "Last time they were already surveillancing all airports and stations. Maybe we should just head to another city and lay low instead."

"You got a point," Jimin agreed then, "But then we gotta change cars. They'll probably soon find out about this one."

"Crap."

They fell silent and Cassandra looked around. "Well, how about you hide somewhere like my hotel room for the night and then think of something in the morning? I mean, no one will search you there, right?"

They perked up, Taehyung instantly shaking his head. "No. You already got enough involved."

"But no one knows that yet," she deadpanned, making his jaw clench. "No one will find you there."

"She got a point.."

"No, she doesn't," he protested in vain. He knew she was right, but he simply couldn't accept that.

"Alright, you got another idea then?"

"The one I suggested."

"You forget that last time they were also barricading the main roads in and out the city," Yoongi countered then, "So got any other idea?"

He didn't.

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Thankfully, and much to Taehyung's relief, they didn't have to actually all cramp in Cassandra's hotel room since the room next door was unoccupied. It was easy for them to pick the old lock after sneaking into the building from an open window without anyone noticing that they were even there. The perks of old, small hotels.

When they parted, Cassandra's body was still buzzing from the gala. The exhilarating feeling not having fully subdued yet.

After entering her dark room, she first freed her feet from the stilettos and kicked them as far away as possible, not wanting to ever see them again. However, she didn't feel like taking off her dress as well yet and shedding off the elegant feeling of the night so soon.

It was still fairly early, not even midnight yet, and she decided to sit outside at the small balcony for a moment to cool down and recall the last few hours. Taking one of her jackets with her as she'd already returned Taehyung's blazer.

It was silent in the backyard of the hotel, save for the faint melody of music coming from an open window somewhere. The little tables in its centre sitting lonely among trees and bushes.

It was ironic in a way, how no one out there could imagine what had happened on the other side of the city that night. As if it was a parallel universe.

Standing there for awhile enjoying the peaceful silence and reliving the evening in her head - while intentionally not dwelling too much on specific moments, or feelings - she decided to go back inside. It was getting cold, even with her thick jacket on, and a sudden exhaustion overcame her after all when the sound of someone stepping out on the balcony beside hers made her pause in her tracks.

She knew it must've been one of the guys and yet, whoever it was probably went out to be alone just like her, so she didn't want to intrude.

So she dared an attempt to sneak inside. Only to get hindered by a low chuckle.

"You stalking me now?" The teasing smirk was audible even from behind the partition. And Cassandra exhaled in relief before huffing jokingly.

"Excuse me, I was here before you?"

Taehyung tsked and leaned his folded arms over the railing right beside her. Letting his eyes wander over the dark scenary of the night. The music had stopped awhile ago, only a stray cat pushing a can echoed through the peacefulness now.

She leaned a bit over to catch a glimpse of him behind the thin cement wall then.

His side-profile shone under the sparse lighting of a lamp underneath them, its serene expression captivating. Unsure if she'd ever seen it before.

She was fond of it, though, just as she was fond of his strong brows, the curves of his nose and lips and all the other soft edges complimenting them. And she was especially fond of the way the night breeze was swaying his tousled strands, not much of their previously sleeked back state evident anymore. Causing them to fall right into his eyes before he pushed them back with his long fingers.

In that moment she made a mental snapshot of this sight, the sight only she got to see and nobody else. She knew with time, her memory wouldn't be able to fully capture this placid nature anymore, but she knew the emotions it triggered inside her would forever be engraved in it.

Her gaze wandered out into the old buildings then, she inhaled deeply and ignored the lingering chemical reactions underneath the surface of her skin. Pushing it all away. Or at least, pretended to.

"I had fun tonight."

Taehyung hummed in acknowledgement and tilted his head to face her better. In the faint lightning, her round face glowed like the mood. And he observed her tuck away a brash curl which had fallen into her view and got caught in her long eyelashes. Warm eyes absentmindedly staring at nothing in particular and he noticed the tiniest reflections of light dancing in them.

His mind instinctively remembering the similar sight in the ballroom only a few hour ago. When she was in his arms in the sea of people.

A shaky breath left his lips at that memory and he averted his eyes from her again. Focusing on the dark silhouette of a building in the distance instead.

"Me, too," he eventually breathed and pushed himself off the railing. "But don't expect this to happen again," his tone turning into a warning one then, "This was the first and only time you'll get involved in a heist."

He had to stifle a laugh when hearing her offended huff, imagining her folding her arms in front of her with an adorable confusion.

"What, why? It was so exciting! And I did my part well, didn't I? Not my fault if you blew it." A dull sound followed her mini rant along with her small yelp and he already figured out that she hit her elbow against the metal railing. Shaking his head, he was about to argue when she continued, blowing out some air. "Besides, it hardly counts as 'participating in a heist' anyway."

"And why doesn't it?"

"Because I barely noticed anything from the action."

Her complaint made a laugh brush past his lips. "Good. Let's keep it this way. It was the last time this happens anyway," he simply stated then and she pouted.

"Fine, you meanie."

"Cas-"

"I said 'fine', I get it," she sighed then, "I'm not naive, I know it can get far more dangerous than that. No reason to keep lecturing me. But it was still fun and I don't regret it. When else could I dress up and attend a gala after all?" She smiled and he could tell she genuinely meant it.

Taehyung nodded, biting back a smile.

"You looked beautiful tonight, by the way."

Her breath hitched and she stayed quiet for longer than she intended. "Oh, so not just 'fitting'?"

And Taehyung folded his lips, unable to retort anything as the mocking, even if playful, felt deserved.

Why had he struggled so much telling her before?

He should've told her way sooner, face to face with no partition seperating them. It had been on the tip of his tongue all night long, but something inside him feared crossing a line if saying it out loud. He felt like a coward right now.

But what if he didn't even mean to say 'beautiful'? What if the word he much rather preferred was 'breathtaking'?

"No. You.. you looked great."

His firm voice put a smile on her face, feeling the chemical reactions inside her gaining intensity all over again. She straightened herself then and cleared her throat.

"Thank you. You looked quite handsome, too, cool guy." Like someone who drank his vodka martinis 'shaken, not stirred' -type of handsome.

She found herself silly for not telling him sooner either, for some reason overthinking it the whole evening. So she couldn't really judge him for only complimenting her now. She wondered if he had struggled as much as she had.

"Ah, did I?" Taehyung laughed under his breath, masking his own blush.

"Mh, I'm sure you already knew."

"No, I didn't actually," he grinned, "But thank you."

And they enjoyed the silence of the night for a little bit longer.

»»»

next chapter: 0.7 here

Don't forget to like, comment & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame @nanakamami @sweetmimosa28

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alstroemeriadissonance · 1 year

Text

Compartmentalize (NSFW)

A/N: Aaaa I've been gone for some time (was busy with doing my urban fantasy AU found here), and I haven't been active in my socials including Twitter...I hope I can muster the will to do housekeeping and updating links. RL stuff is just getting a bit too much these days...

NSFW. Dr. Vyn Richter navigates his emotions with the help of his trusty dictaphone. Or, Vyn gets his own bad end. Crossposted from AO3 here

[0:00 - 0:37]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Patient is neatly groomed. Mood and affect is moderately dysthymic. Speech is normal in rate, rhythm, and volume as sampled in this recording. He is moderately distracted, with thoughts that are slightly tangential. Insight and judgment is impaired, with a tendency for emotionally-driven decisions. He has persistent, intrusive thoughts of his limerent object for the past fourteen hours and twenty five minutes since waking up at nine this morning.

[0:37 - 0:50]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Thoughts of jealousy, stemming from mild obsessive behavior towards limerent object have been observed, leading to difficulty with focus and concentration causing two instances of critical lapse in decision making.

“You’re doing it again.” Marius snapped his fingers in front of Vyn’s face, only to have his hand slapped away.

“Stop that,” Vyn muttered, reaching for his cup of tea. “What was I doing again, pray tell?” He took a sip, then made a face once he found out it had long gone cold. Irritated, he slammed the cup back into its saucer, spilling amber liquid all over his documents piled on the glass conference table. “Fuck.”

“Zoning out. Focus, will you?” Marius groused as he closed the document folder in his hands. It was obvious to him that Vyn couldn’t crunch data off the top of his head in his current state of mind. “I don’t like staying here past seven either, but we’ve got a job to do.” He tossed the folder onto the table and reached out for his tablet. “How about you take a quick look at this instead—”

The door to the files room opened, but Marius did not take notice; he was busy flipping through the documents on his tablet to look for the one he needed feedback on. “Vyn—ah, damnit.”

Vyn wasn’t zoning out yet again, but Marius thought what he did was way worse: the doctor’s hawkish gaze was trained at the recently opened door, or more specifically, the couple who had emerged from the files room: Luke and Rosa.

Marius, with his gift for observation that was mostly used in his art endeavors, easily picked out how the doctor’s fingernails dug into his thighs. He was sure that Vyn would bleed it if it weren’t for the sturdy fabric of his khakis. “Vyn?” No response; the doctor was already burning holes onto the backs of his colleagues, both too preoccupied with their light-hearted bantering over their smartphones to notice Vyn’s all-too bitter glaring.

[0:50 - 0:59]

Dr. Vyn Richter

I am looking in the mirror, my rose. Beholding the just deserts of our stubbornness. It is a tragedy that we have to hide the truth about ourselves, what we feel for each other, this beautiful thing that we have nurtured together.

Oh boy. Marius gave up and grabbed his bag to stuff his things, resigned that he would have to wait till their next meeting to get something pertinent out of his usually fastidious tutor. Whatever.

Luke was mumbling something as he hunched over Rosa’s shoulder, pointing at whatever was displayed on her screen. They seemed a little too intimate for work colleagues; Luke pulled Rosa closer to him, his arm wrapped around her as he fiddled with her phone’s display.

[1:05 - 1:13]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Try as we might to separate our personal lives from the professional, the world is trying to take advantage of the consideration that we allow them at the expense of our own needs and desires, Rosa, do you not see it?

Marius wasn’t surprised to see Vyn finally flipping his lid when Luke whispered something to her ear, his lips dangerously close to her face as if he was kissing her cheek.

“Luke, Rosa,” the doctor began, his voice controlled yet loud enough to easily fill the entirety of the sizable conference room. “If you could please keep your voices down. Marius and I are trying to do work here.”

No we aren’t, because someone here is stewing in his jelly juices, Marius thought to himself. He would have said it out loud, but he did not feel like getting in the crosshairs of his tutor’s ire at the moment.

“I have no qualms about any of us pursuing personal relationships, but if you could please exercise enough restraint to keep your flirting outside of working hours?” Vyn, despite his flat, emotionless tone, wasn’t giving any quarter. “I did not sign up for this circus.”

Marius threw the doctor a look that said Are you fucking serious? and nervously shifted his sights towards Luke and Rosa. As he expected, Luke was positively incensed, and Rosa was nothing but downright mortified.

“If you’ve got more to say about me and her catching up, why don’t we take this outside?” Luke nudged Rosa to stand behind him, but she didn’t budge; she remained rooted on the spot, her face red with embarrassment.

“That is not necessary,” Vyn said, his voice clipped. “I am done here. You two can carry on with your business. I care not.”

Marius merely watched as Vyn stiffly gathered his things to leave the conference room; held his breath in anticipation when the doctor had to pass Luke to get to the door—only to be grossly disappointed when they merely stared each other down.

“I bid you a good evening, Rosa,” Vyn said quietly, his eyes never leaving Luke as he addressed her. “Enjoy your time together.”

[1:14 - 1:21]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Do you not see how much it tears me apart?

Later that night.

He drove his head deeper into his pillows, relishing the warmth and wetness of her mouth wrapped around his cock. He let out a moan as she did her best to deepthroat him; he had told her that she didn’t need to, yet Rosa was adamant to try pleasuring him.

Perhaps as a way to make up for what happened back in the headquarters.

The earnestness of her efforts alone was enough to send him almost weeping in his own bed, a mere few minutes until midnight, way past his routine bedtime. But he did not care; sticking to a healthy routine was important if he were to maintain his mental acuity, yet at that moment nothing mattered to the doctor than feeling his lover’s hot, wet tongue swirling around his tip, and how her small lips were stretched to accommodate his girth as much as she could. His head spun in pleasure; the thick thread of precum leaking into her sucking mouth betrayed just how much he had waited for relief.

The muscles of his inner thighs tightened; he was getting near. His fingers twitched and sought her auburn tresses, unsure where they needed to be in his sudden bout of kindness, only for his care and restraint to be undone as she started sucking in earnest; her hand wrapped around the rest of his shaft and jerking off what her mouth couldn’t fit. Shuddering breaths quickly turned to needy gasps as he grabbed fistfuls of her hair, and begged for her to let him come—

But she only stopped and drew back, his still rock-hard cock slipping out of her lips.

Vyn almost wept in abject frustration. “Rosa, I—” His strangled voice told a little too much of just how much of his control was lost, only for him to be thwarted at the last minute. “...Why?”

“You didn’t have to antagonize him,” Rosa muttered, wiping the mixture of spit and precum off her lips with the back of her hand. “He was just showing me the videos he took from his last assignment.” Her olive eyes were clouded with such a mixture of emotions that Vyn couldn’t discern, not when he was too vexed after being deprived of release all too suddenly.

Was it anger? Resentment? Regret?

In the end he decided that none of those mattered, and he roughly pulled Rosa closer to him for a lingering kiss that told of his simmering desire for her, long ignored and neglected during the daytime. “I do not like how he holds you as if you were his possession,” he murmured against her lips, his arms snaking possessively around her sweat-slickened body. “Only I have the right to do so, Rosa. My love.”

[1:25 - 1:37]

Dr. Vyn Richter

Only I should see your smile. Only I should hear you speak, in that sweet voice only your lover should hear. Only I should feel you. Around me. In me. Your intoxicating scent as we make love, only I should know of it.

“I keep on telling you, we were only—ah—” Her protests died in her throat as Vyn pushed her down onto the mattress. “This wouldn't even be a problem if we'd only admit to our rela—”

“Sssh.” Once again Vyn interrupted her from voicing out her grievance, this time with his slender finger across her grumbling lips. “We have already talked about this, pet.” He spared her from his usual vague platitudes about keeping things professional. Now wasn’t the time. The indignation he had to go through a few moments ago was still swimming in his bloodstream, but the need to sate his hunger was paramount.

He spread her thighs open, and a dark chuckle rose from his throat. Despite her misgivings aimed at him the lurid sight of her wet and swollen flesh between her thighs betrayed just how much she was indeed his.

She throbbed for him, and not for whoever she was with during the daytime, certainly not her childhood friend, try as hard as Luke might to worm his way into her heart by taking advantage of their shared memories.

Memories that will be easily edged out by the lifetime of midnights shared only between the doctor and his precious rose.

He could feel his dick harden even more at the thought.

His blood sang in triumph.

“I will now take what is rightfully mine,” he whispered, licking his lips as he pushed her thighs further apart.

[1:40 - 1:59]

Dr. Vyn Richter

I knew my obsession with you was far too dangerous to allow unimpeded, but still I happily indulged in it, devoting my time and energy to your altar. You made me realize how much of a hypocrite I am, that I am no better than any man, just another someone who would squander everything in pursuit of that one woman.

His bedroom was filled with nothing but shared sighs and ragged moans as he sank deep into her, inch by delicious inch, into her hole. He threw his head back, closing his eyes as he relished the heat inside her cunt grasp his cock perfectly as if it was made for him. Yes. For him only, she was his alone, of that there was never any doubt. They fit perfectly, both of them pieces of a puzzle they did not know they needed to solve until their first touch. Vyn knew there was no one else made for him. He was going to make her his, in every sense of the word, but that was for later.

“Sing for me, Rosa,” he murmured, hands sliding down to her thighs and wrapping her legs around his waist. “I want to hear your voice. Tell me you are mine,” he demanded, his voice a touch too needy for his liking. It was difficult to grasp what little composure he had left with how good her hot cunt felt around him.

With a snap of his hips he bottomed out inside her; her moans of pleasure music to his ears as he started moving.

“Vyn, Vyn, I—nngh—” There was no hope for Rosa to come up with coherent words, not with how she helplessly clung to his shoulders, her legs greedily pulling his hips back to hers in time with his hard, deep thrusts. “Yours, I’m…ahh—” Tears pricked the edges of her eyes, to his utter, unhinged delight; a sinister laugh rose from his lips the moment he felt her fingernails drag across the skin of his back, no doubt drawing blood. That is fine, he thought as he hissed in the pain and licked his lips, his darkened gaze locking onto her unfocused olive stare that told of just how far gone she was in her head, focusing on the climax steadily building as he pounded into her, over and over.

“I need to…come. Please,” she managed to whisper, her weakened voice almost inaudible as he kept on rutting into her mercilessly. “Please, Vyn,” she whimpered, one of her hands letting go of his shoulder to reach down between her bodies.

He was going to let herself reach her precipice first, but the feel of her hand desperately rubbing her clit—her knuckle grazing his cock as he kept on fucking her the way God intended him to do her—pushed him past the point of no return. With a loud, guttural moan he burst his hot seed inside her.

She is like a drug, he decided as he slumped over her body, fully spent; and as she came, her cunt milking him for all he was worth with each orgasmic spasm, he knew that his spiraling obsession for her would lead him to nowhere but the abyss, and there was no hope for him to turn back and save himself.

[2:05 - 2:12]

Dr. Vyn Richter

It is unfortunate that you know this side of me, my love. And I cannot afford to let others know of how much of my control I lose over you.

At exactly one in the morning she was already fully dressed, her smartphone in her hand as she booked for a taxi to come pick her up from Vyn’s place.

“Rosa, being out alone at this hour is unwise,” Vyn said, still naked on his bed. “At the very least please give me a few minutes to dress myself and I will drive you home.”

He wanted to tell her that he’d rather she stay the night, for her to sleep beside him, but many things have already been said between them; it was much too late for him to renege on what they have already agreed upon, in the interests of compartmentalizing their romantic entanglement away from their professional lives and, in Vyn’s case, duty of his birthright.

And so all he could do was slip on his robe and see her out his door.

[2:23 - 2:52]

Dr. Vyn Richter

I will now come out and say it: You own me, my beloved. Me, and everything it entails. You own my thoughts, and my feelings. I cannot help it, your ownership of me is etched into my very being. You must bear responsibility for this, my rose. I place my fate into your hands.

“I will miss you, Rosa of my heart,” Vyn solemnly said, reaching out to her with the intent of holding her hand.

His fingers could only brush the back of her hand as she drew back and away from his grasp.

“I know,” was all she said before she stepped out through the door.

[2:52 - 3:01]

Dr. Vyn Richter

But the world is not yet ready to know this. Not yet.

They passed by each other the following morning, when he took it upon himself to personally deliver subpoenaed documents for a high profile case Themis Law was currently working on.

Vyn, on his way to Artem’s office, went past the pantry where he saw Rosa poring over documents spread out over the table with a mug of coffee in her hand.

He was about to approach her and say hello but Artem beat him to it, pulling a chair beside her. Vyn could only look on as the senior attorney huddled closer to his junior, going over the specifics of whatever the documents contained, sharing a laughter or two during their impromptu meeting in the pantry.

He could only watch as Celestine approached the two, loudly calling Rosa ‘Ms. Wing’ in jest, and tasked both attorneys to attend a business function together in her stead. An out of town business trip. Easily two or three days, out in the country together.

I have intruded on her business enough. The doctor pivoted on his heel and strode over to Kiki’s cubicle instead. “Hello, Miss Kiki,” he said in his bright voice usually reserved for the most reticent of patients. “Wing seems to be preoccupied at the moment.” He handed her the folder, along with his favorite green striped pen for her to sign the receipt slip with. “Would you be a dear and receive these documents for me?”

The bespectacled intern was quite surprised to see him, and her cheeks bloomed easily in his presence, ducking her head as she clumsily signed her name at the bottom of the receipt. It did not take her a minute before she handed him back his pen and the signed receipt.

Vyn let their fingers brush against each other as he accepted the items. “Thank you.”

“Y-you’re welcome, Dr. Richter,” Kiki chirped, then surreptitiously hid her furious blush behind the documents folder.

He briefly wondered how easily it would be to bed the pretty, yet painfully shy intern, to fill the gaps of his immensely lonely nights, but shoved it out of his mind just as quickly.

Nobody deserves to be hurt by petty jealousies, and people who manipulate others with the promise of love are nothing but despicable. He knew this very well.

His heart hurt.

Left with no reason for him to linger, his business finally done, Vyn decided to retreat into the comfort and semblance of control that his research center afforded him.

Yet before he could step into the elevator to leave the premises, Rosa emerged from the pantry and brushed past him, Artem in tow.

Their eyes briefly met, only for her to look away and place her hand on her boss’s arm, to Artem’s obvious surprise.

Vyn merely pursed his lips.

“Wing, I left the documents with Kiki,” was all the doctor said, after giving them a curt nod. “Have a good day. I shall take my leave now.”

[0:00 - 2:19]

Dr. Vyn Richter

The patient is appropriately dressed but disheveled. He would describe his mood as ‘within limits’. His thought process lacks flow. It has been sixteen hours and seventeen minutes since waking up at nine this morning, and thoughts of jealousy have consumed his sensorium. I am nothing without you, my rose, and I…

[The recording is cut off here. Faint sound of glass shattering could be heard in the background]

#vyn richter #tears of themis fanfic #vyn richter smut #tears of themis smut #tears of themis #tears of themis au

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martyreasemymind · 8 months

Note

for the WIP tag game: more on BS please

(because it reminded me of drafting sideways before it had a name and the doc was called BS which obv stood for billy/steve but nevertheless my brain autocorrected it on sight, given the usual acronym, until it came time to post and i realized i couldn't actually name my fic bullshit)

i won't go TOO into this one b/c it's very old and a mess (yes the bs stands for bullshit lol)

this was an original work about a family of shapeshifters trying to care for two of their children who escaped from government captivity/experimentation/military use.

Llena, the younger sister, is traumatized but generally able to function.

Jay, the older brother, yo-yo's between being fragile and being completed dissociated due to his experience with scientists/military forcing transformations and causing him to lose his identity and connection with reality.

the ki'd family had been dysfunctional and bordering on abusive before their abduction, and completely unraveled after. at the beginning of the story there has been a degree of recovery due to the remaining kids being removed and the parents receiving treatment.

the story is told primarily from the perspective of the eldest brother, Coda.

Excerpts:

He felt the anxiety in his gut twist into hate. Like a house fire. The kind you have to douse for hours to really get rid of. To kill.

Arlo stood behind him, watched him dig his forehead into the harsh bark. Wordless.

It was a strange feeling to be seen like this. Flayed open. Like he’d been caught.

When he turned and settled on the ground she joined him. Looking at the stars, he felt her head rest on his shoulder.

“Is there any chance he won’t make it?”

“No. Not unless something catastrophic happens.”

Catastrophe is relative. It could be anything. Five years ago it was Pela breaking a plate.

“Get out of your own head. You’re not helping anyone.”

Nessar stood in the open threshold of the hospital room.

“You probably shouldn’t be hanging out here either.”

Nothing.

Her eyes narrowed.

“You know he can pick up on your stress”

He didn’t like this version of her. Doctor-Aunt. Emotionally detached but close enough to get under his skin.

“Thought you said he’d be fine.”

“Being fine and being not dead are two different things.”

He looked at her. Gave her his best pleading look as a final grab for sympathy.

“It’s not good for you to be here.”

Goddammit.

“Look,”

Her eyes went away from him.

“It’s been a week and he’s doing fine. The hardest part is over”

She shrugged.

“Physically”

Fuck you.

“And I know you wanna be here and look after him but it isn’t healthy for you. Mentally. You should get back to class and get your mind on something else. Or at least try to.”

He turned back to his unconscious brother.

“Have you spoken to either of your parents in the last week?”

He scoffed.

“What? To make me less stressed?”

Nessar’s fingers went to her temples.

“Fine. You all wanna be stubborn shits and refuse to talk to each other, fine. But just think about what you’re leaving him to wake up to.”

He scowled, but rose from his seat when she stepped out.

“Oh.”

Coda sat at the breakfast table. Didn’t look at his father standing in the doorway. Couldn’t.

“Is there something wrong?”

He felt the anger crackle inside of him, the familiar thump of blood in his ears that heralded an outburst.

Communicate. State your feelings.

“I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you.”

He could see his father’s shoulders lean back in shock from the corner of his eye.

“I’m still…”

His mouth twisted into a sour grimace.

Try again.

“I’m still...angry”

His father looked on but Coda didn’t see him. It was easier to pretend he wasn’t there. To pretend he was alone in his room, screwing his eyes shut and whispering threats and promises into the empty space and truly believing that it would hold them forever. That it could.

I’ll kill you

“And I’m angry...that I’m still angry.”

Asil tilted his head. Eyes soft.

“Coda...If this is about me getting my feelings hurt-”

“It’s not. It’s… We need to be together for when-”

His teeth tug into his bottom lip.

“For when he wakes up.”

There was a silence, both considering.

“I understand, and I appreciate you taking that stance,”

He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it. To his father being calm and rational and compassionate. He still doesn’t.

“But I don’t want you to feel like any anger you have towards me needs to go away just because there’s a bigger issue at hand.”

Tears stung behind his eyes. He hated this, he hated falling apart in front of the person he was always supposed to be better than.

He felt his father make an abortive step forward. The desire, the duty, to stay stoic and quiet and grown ground against the protean need to be comforted. The fist against the open palm.

The chair scraped against the wood floor as he stood up and trudged outside. Don’t run. Not from him.

#god this was FOREVER ago #rip messy prince #answered asks

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lunastarhawk · 2 years

Text

Safe Places - Part 2

Julian and gender neutral MC. Fluffy rating.

Wrote a thing on the way home from work. Another short thing that I'll just post here.

MC holds Julian after an awful day at the clinic.

The sound of the door opening and closing was faint, but still enough to wake me from my doze. I'd drifted off on the couch while waiting for Julian to get home. He often worked late at the clinic, but I didn't like him to be alone when he got home.

He mumbled an apology for waking me. As I sat up, setting aside the book that had dropped on my chest when my eyes had closed, he came over to me and bent down. Gentle fingers pushed my hair from my face, tired eyes met mine. He pressed a kiss to my lips, and nudged my cheek with his nose.

I sensed the faintest tremor in his hands, in his kiss. A shudder in his breaths.

I told him there was food in the kitchen, and with a wry smile added that I hadn't burnt my hand this time. But I watched him closely. Behind his watery smile and half-hearted quip, his eyes, dark like a frozen lake on a moonless night, looked into the middle distance, haunted and pained. Something had happened.

Into his hesitation I reached out and took his hand. His gaze dropped.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked softly.

He didn't look at me immediately, instead seeing only whatever it was that hurt him. I'd seen him like this before; as a doctor, the weight of some of the things he saw, the things he had to do, or couldn't do, the patients he lost... it was a heavy burden. And it wasn't one I would push him to relive.

And so, when his eyes met mine again with their silent plea, I shifted so my back was at the arm of the couch, one leg stretched out in front of me, the other hanging off the edge, and patted the couch in front of me.

With a grateful smile, Julian shrugged out of his coat and slung it over the back of another chair, and sat in front of me, between my legs; there wasn't enough room for us to lay side by side. Once he'd stretched both his long legs out, I pulled my other leg up and wrapped both around him. He wriggled down, eventually settling leaning back on me, shoulders across my stomach and head turned so his cheek rested on my chest.

His chest rose and fell in a relieved sigh, and he nuzzled into my chest.

I bent and kissed the top of his head, lingering there as my hands bowed over his shoulders, working gently into the knots there. As they began to loosen, Julian relaxed, sighed again, rested one hand in his lap and the other on my thigh.

I slid one hand down over his chest, worked open the buttons and slipped inside, through the scattering of soft hair, resting over his heart. There, I traced small, light circles - out with fingertips, back with a faint scrape of nails. Five strokes, then I lay my palm flat on his chest. His heart was racing, pounding. I traced shapes again.

My other hand was in his hair, running one lock at a time between my thumb and forefinger with a gentle tug.

His chest rose and fell in a trembling sigh, his nose and cheek nuzzled my chest. A tension came to his chest, a held breath released in short, tight bursts.

I held him closer between my thighs, my hand moved from his hair, and I leaned down over him, encircling his head with my arm and resting my hand on his cheek, pulling him close into my chest.

I began to hum, one of his favourite shanties, but at a lower tempo, quiet and low. He pressed his ear against my chest, feeling the vibration of my wordless voice there. Another time, he'd told me that my breaths moving through his hair reminded him of a sea breeze.

Every now and then, a sweep of my thumb brushed silent tears from their pools below his eyes.

By the time I'd reached the end of the song, his cheeks were dry, his shoulders relaxed, his breaths smooth and deep, his hand squeezing my thigh. I flattened my palm over his chest; the heartbeats were slow and steady. His hand rose up, lay over mine, and he whispered a thank you.

He tilted his head back to look up at me; I combed my fingers through his hair, bent and kissed his forehead. He told me he was tired; so very, very tired.

I took him to the bedroom, helped him out of his clothes and into bed, and as I lay down beside him I pulled the blanket over us. We lay facing each other, and as Julian curled I pulled his head into my chest. His arm moved over me, and his hand on my back pulled me closer as he nuzzled into my chest, drawing comfort from my presence with his lips, cheeks and nose.

I hooked my leg over his hip, cradled his head in one arm against me, my other hand on his back and my lips and voice in his hair. I couldn't stop his nightmares, but I could catch him when he fell.

He murmured my name. "If… if I wake…"

"Ssshh." I tightened my hold. "I'll be here. You're safe."

Part of Domestic Daydreams on AO3

#the arcana #julian devorak #the arcana fanfiction #julian devorak fanfiction #the arcana game

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soulless-angel25 · 8 months

Text

Doctor Who Femslash February, Day 1 Prompt- Alternate Universe @doctorwho-femslashfeb

In another universe River Song and Rose Tyler met in the Library, and in every other universe it doesn't end well.

....

"We got breathers! Helmets off," the words were distinctly feminine and familiar in a way that Rose couldn't place. That happened sometimes, her future bleeding into her present. It'd been happening since after... after he regenerated.

It had taken her months of pleading, begging to get him to tell her what happened at Satellite Five. That she had absorbed the Time Vortex and become a Goddess but that there wasn't any need to worry, really, he'd taken it all out of her.

(If he did then why was she getting whispers of the future? Why could she see timelines swirling around in a golden mess everywhere she looked? Why was her future bleeding into her present if he took it all? Why could she hear the TARDIS clearly, understanding her better then the Doctor could?)

She had smiled, and thanked him for telling her. Didn't dare to let any of the thoughts in her head slip out into the world. Maybe she should've, maybe he would still be here if she had. Even just a simple sentence...

Shaking her head she focused back in on what was happening in front of her, the other people who had arrived had taken their helmets off. The one in front of her, the one who'd spoken first sent sparks down her spine a name whispered in her mind, River.

"Who are you?" Rose let the words slip past her lips easily, "You shouldn't be here, you need to leave." she let rage seep into her voice, faux anger at these people being here. (It was easy, to let anger slip into her voice. She just had to be careful so it wouldn't consume her)

And then things were happening and she couldn't quite recall all the details, she could remember River looking at her with devastation in her eyes- River whispering her true name in her ears. "Rose". not Bad Wolf not The Valiant Child, but Rose.

The rest passed in a blur, people died (Miss Evangelista, Proper Dave, Other Dave, Anita). Then she was in the control area with River and River looked at her with an apologetic smile, making her promise not to change a moment of her past and Rose's future. But she knew herself, and so as she left and heard the sounds of a TARDIS materializing she didn't turn around to acknowledge it.

She was certain her future self had it all figured out.

...

FIVE CENTURIES LATER

Bad Wolf walked around the TARDIS console, flipping switches, pulling levers, pushing buttons. Her eyes flickered over to what she had prepared and silently hoped that this would work as she flipped the last switch.

...

She stepped back eyes searching and hoping that this would work, and as River opened her eyes Bad Wolf cried joyfully. It had worked... her gamble had paid off.

Pulling her wife into her arms she tilted her head back and pulled her down for a kiss. She could feel River smile against her lips and she hummed in contentment.

The TARDIS doors opened behind them and they tumbled in, happy to be reunited.

#dwff24 #femslash feburary #river song #rose tyler #riverrose #donna noble #alternate universe #the doctor fell #Post-Episode AU s02e13: Doomsday #Episode AU s04e08/9: Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead #Rose Tyler is called Bad Wolf

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autolovecraft · 1 year

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I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here.

Clutching the edges of the aperture, he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. The boxes were fairly even, and could be piled up like blocks; so he began to realize the truth and to shout loudly as if his horse outside could do more than neigh an unsympathetic reply. He could, he was sure, get out by midnight—though it is characteristic of him that this thought was untinged with eerie implications. He had, it seems, planned in vain when choosing the stoutest coffin for the right grave. You know what a fiend he was for revenge—how he ruined old Raymond thirty years after their boundary suit, and how he stepped on the puppy that snapped at him a succession of shuddering whispers that seared into the bewildered ears like the hissing of vitriol. Perhaps he screamed.

When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least to such meager tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. Another might not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not get Asaph Sawyer's coffin by mistake, although it was very similar.

The day was clear, but a high wind had sprung up; and Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault. Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks. The light was dim, but Birch's sight was good, and he did not heed the day at all; though ever afterward he refused to do anything of importance on that fateful sixth day of the week. Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it. When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the latch of the great door yielded readily to a touch from the outside.

And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. He had, indeed, made that coffin for Matthew Fenner; but had cast it aside at last as too awkward and flimsy, in a fit of curious sentimentality aroused by recalling how kindly and generous the little old man had been to him during his bankruptcy five years before. Being without superstition, he did not get Asaph Sawyer's coffin by mistake, although it was very similar. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. He was curiously unelated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago.

Birch, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. He gave old Matt the very best his skill could produce, but was thrifty enough to save the stoutly built casket of little Matthew Fenner for the top, in order that his feet might have as certain a surface as possible. Being without superstition, he did not care to imagine. Armington helped Birch to the outside of a spare bed and sent his little son Edwin for Dr. Davis. It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, and I believe his eye-for-an-eye fury could beat old Father Death himself. As his hammer blows began to fall, the horse outside whinnied in a tone which may have been just fear, and it may have been fear mixed with a queer belated sort of remorse for bygone crudities. Birch, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin!

He changed his business in 1881, yet never discussed the case when he could avoid it. He had, indeed, made that coffin for Matthew Fenner; but had cast it aside at last as too awkward and flimsy, in a fit of curious sentimentality aroused by recalling how kindly and generous the little old man had been to him during his bankruptcy five years before. Birch decided he could get through the transom. That he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the other was worse—those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin, but you always did go too damned far! When Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. The skull turned my stomach, but the other was worse—those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed? I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not heed the day at all; though ever afterward he refused to do anything of importance on that fateful sixth day of the week. The moon was shining on the scattered brick fragments and marred facade, and the overhead ventilation funnel virtually none at all; so that he was wise in so doing. In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer. He gave old Matt the very best his skill could produce, but was thrifty enough to save the rejected specimen, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit. Clutching the edges of the aperture. The skull turned my stomach, but the other was worse—those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin, but you always did go too damned far! He gave old Matt the very best his skill could produce, but was thrifty enough to save the rejected specimen, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds.

It may have been fear mixed with a queer belated sort of remorse for bygone crudities. Never did he knock together flimsier and ungainlier caskets, or disregard more flagrantly the needs of the rusty lock on the tomb door which he slammed open and shut with such nonchalant abandon. Birch still toiling. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. The pile of tools soon reached, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry.

Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but gathered his energies for a determined try. The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass.

Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. After a full two hours Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. His thinking processes, once so phlegmatic and logical, had become ineffaceably scarred; and it was pitiful to note his response to certain chance allusions such as Friday, Tomb, Coffin, and words of less obvious concatenation. The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb. Armington, the lodge-keeper, answered his feeble clawing at the door. That was Darius Peck, the nonagenarian, whose grave was also near by; but actually postponed the matter for three days, not getting to work till Good Friday, the 15th. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the degree of dignity to be maintained in posing and adapting the unseen members of lifeless tenants to containers not always calculated with sublimest accuracy.

Great heavens, Birch, just as I thought! And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mold in brainless haste, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. He was merely crass of fiber and function—thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste. He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture, he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture, he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. Davis.

Armington, the lodge-keeper, answered his feeble clawing at the door.

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arianahollowrp · 2 years

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Kayla Starter

Open to: Mutuals or Non-Mutuals; Male characters Character: Kayla Ingram (New character; WIP) Plot: I HAVE 2 OPTIONS: Kayla and her daughter are staying with Memaw while she goes through chemotherapy, surgery, and other treatments. So your character could be a doctor, nurse, sitter/nanny, next door neighbor helping out or whatever fits the situation. The other option could be a time piece where we explore the relationship between Memaw and Papaw. This is a very open concept and I’m open to any suggestions for general plot if we go this route.

********

The crunch of the gravel under the tires of her old 4 Runner signaled her return. The smell of rain slithered through the car's vents, so she rolled her windows down and allowed it to envelop her. Her lids fluttered as she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. It felt like a familiar blanket wrapping around her shoulders and reminding her that everything would be okay. She was safe again.

Kayla loved visiting her mother's home in Tennessee. The cottage sat in the middle of nowhere, hours away from any major city, over rolling hills and winding mountain roads. The driveway was nearly a mile-long stretch of road leading to a modest clearing where her home and small garden were situated. A squeal of delight caught her attention, and she glanced into the rearview mirror to watch her daughter scramble to sit higher in her car seat and peer out the window.

"Memaw! Momma, you see her? Memaw!" Elizabeth's next exciting screech nearly pierced her ears as she cringed and pressed her foot on the gas. So much for stopping to smell the roses.

Kayla rolled the windows back up as she eyed the clouds on the horizon. Elizabeth was still chattering away and frantically replacing her shoes as she desperately wanted to be ready to launch out of the car when it came to a complete stop. "Please, Izzy, inside voices at Memaw's, okay?" Kayla shifted into park and turned her body to face her daughter fully. The little girl was the spitting image of her father: his emerald hues shone right back at her as Kayla tried her best to keep a straight face. There was ketchup left on her cheek and several chicken nugget crumbs on her t-shirt and jacket. Wordlessly, Kayla reached into her passenger seat and grabbed a wipe for her five-year-old.

Izzy hunkered down in her car seat, bringing her hands to her face and covering her mouth. She looked thoroughly chastised and quickly lowered her voice to a harsh, toddler whisper.

"Inside voices!" She declared.

Kayla couldn't help but smile at that and nod slightly. She did her best to turn around completely before she started laughing. Or crying. God, it was hard to tell these days which it was going to be. Every time she looked at her, she saw her father. It reopened that wound, but Izzy always filled it with another one of her loving hugs or genuine belly laughs.

The woman sniffled and blinked the tears away before turning the car off and gathering her things. She rounded her car to her daughter's door and opened it. The kindergartener scrambled out of her mother's reach and up to the doorway of her beloved Memaw. Without a second guess, Izzy reached for the handle and began pulling the door open. Kayla warned her daughter to be careful but knew she could do little to prevent that girl from doing anything.

Just then, a woman came to the door gasping in mock surprise. "Oh my goodness! Is that my Elizabeth May? Oh, Lord! And that sure is my loving daughter Kayla Jean! What in the world are you two ladies doing here?" She questioned, hands on her wide hips.

"Mama, we're here for the tea party!" Kayla cheered, playing along for her daughter's sake.

"We brought cookies, but we call 'em crumpets because that's what the fancy people do," Izzy informed her grandmother with a rather serious look, mirroring her stance with tiny hands on her waist. Both women laughed and ushered the little one inside.

********

"Tell me what you see, Elizabeth."

"I see London," Izzy recited. Her little fingers barely grazed over the photographs as she trained her eyes on each one. She spent a few seconds analyzing the frame before announcing what it was.

"The Eye. Tower Bridge. Palace. Tower. Abbey." The other words were too complex for the child, but she recited the words she could remember and pronounce while her grandmother gently corrected her.

"The Eye of London. Tower Bridge. Buckingham Palace. Tower Bridge. Westminster Abbey." The woman listed the places in order once again before gently turning the page and repeating her question. "Tell me what you see here, Izzy."

The little girl squared her shoulders and brushed her fingertips against the next set of photographs. "I see France," she whispered as if in a trance. Then again recited the contents with her grandmother. "Loov-ruh, Eiffel Tower. Notre Dame."

The older woman chuckled and nodded along with her granddaughter before touching each picture and identifying them for herself. "The Louvre Museum. The Eiffel Tower. And the Notre Dame Cathedral. Can you believe that Memaw got to see all those things herself? You ever think you're gonna go see it?"

Izzy seemed to take this question seriously as she paused and stared at the pictures before her. "Yes, because Papaw's pictures are nice. I want to take my own pictures," she announced.

The woman seemed amused with Izzy's answer as she watched the youngster slide off her lap and begin to fiddle with her favorite Barbie doll. A few seconds of silence passed as she watched her granddaughter in absolute adoration. "I think Papaw would think that's a super good idea." Izzy beamed at her grandmother as the woman folded the scrapbook and tucked it back into the drawer beside her reading chair.

"Do you miss Papaw?" Izzy's startling piercing gaze seemed to bore into her grandmother. The woman smiled weakly and sighed before responding.

"Yes, I sure do. Every day." She was at a loss for words and nearly succumbed to the grief, but she managed to push it back. Somehow she always did. "Did I ever tell you how I met Papaw?"

********

#open rp #rp wanted #nonmutuals welcome #Kayla J. Ingram #Kayla starter #open starter

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nev3rfound · 2 years

Text

in another lifetime : part seven - h.z / l.k

knowing your time is up you have no choice but to accept your fate with laszlo by your side. yet zemo refuses to let this be the end for you, knowing there is so much more you for to experience and live for. 4.7k (it's a longun)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests are now open!

warnings: elements of tfatws series and the alienist, injuries, health problems, mentions of illness and disjointed info from doctor strange kinda au, kinda sad in parts (this is all sort of an au so be mindful thank you!) SAD okay - i warned you

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN (the ending)

thank you so SO much for reading this series and allowing me to delve into other daniel bruhl characters. it's been a joy to write and here's to IALT :)

New York - 1898

Laszlo stirs beside you, turning over as the sun began to rise. The rays of light encroach through the curtains, illuminating a slither of your face for him to admire.

He couldn't help but think how peaceful you look in your sleep, without a single worry consuming your thoughts unlike his that haunts his sleep. He knew this was the end, and that there was no stopping the inevitable, but he'd at least make the most of what little time he has left with you.

Rising from the bed with a stiff back, Laszlo attempts to be quiet as the mattress rose with him. But he knew better than to assume you'd remain asleep, you always woke at the slightest of sounds.

"Why're you staring, Laszlo, don't you know it's rude?" Your voice remains heavy with sleep as you blink away the last of your dreams.

Unable to stop the corners of his lips rising, Laszlo nods. "Sometimes I just can't help myself, dear."

"I guess that can be forgiven," You mutter, forcing yourself to sit upright only to feel a wave of nausea overcome your senses.

Laszlo notices immediately and he reaches under the bed, handing you a bowl kept in case. He doesn't even flinch at the sound of you retching into the bowl, only lowers his gaze until you're composed.

"I'm sorry," The words are muffled by the bowl, but Laszlo hears you nonetheless. Awkwardly he makes his way over to your side and runs his fingers through your hair, brushing it from your face as you lift your head back up. "Las," You whisper his name, too afraid to say it.

Yet, he understands without having verbal confirmation.

It's time.

New York - 2025

Entering the close to an abandoned-looking building, Sam struggles to hold back a sneeze as he walked into a cobweb.

"Ma-duk," Zemo mutters, following Sam in with Bucky smiling to himself at the comment.

"I heard that." Sam retorts, wiping the cobweb away. "So, where are they?" He looks around at the dust-coated stairwell and stain-glassed windows.

Bucky hums. "They should be here."

"Yes, thank you for repeating that." Sam rolls his eyes. "How are we here before them when they can do that," Sam lifts his arms up, copying the actions often seen from the sorcerers of the mystic arts.

Zemo's ears perk up at a faint hissing sound, and as he turns sparks begin to form in thin air. "I think they might've heard you, Sam." Zemo calls out, watching several portals form and the recruited team of sorcerers step into the lobby.

Now standing before the trio, Strange approaches first.

"Are you sure you're ready to do this? We don't know how she'll react or if she'll even come back." Strange reminds Bucky specifically, knowing he had the most concern about you returning despite the longing to see you again.

"She needs to come back." Zemo comments with a small smile. "So she can heal, and live her life." He adds, looking down at his left hand, noting how it still feels odd to see his ring finger bare.

"There's one thing though that we haven't discussed," Emilie speaks up, sharing a look of understanding with Strange. "If Y/n returns, she, she won't be able to go back, not ever." Emilie explains with sorrow filling her tone, picturing your bright smile in those old articles everyone researched.

You'd be torn from your family once again, forced into another situation whether you'd like it or not.

"She'll never see Laszlo again?" Zemo is the first to ask, unsure what to make of it all.

"It's too complex for the timeline. If she were to return, a new timeline would form and," Strange trails off upon seeing blank expressions in response.

"If Y/n comes home, that's it." Emilie states finally. "It's up to her if she does, but we can at least try."

"So be it." Sam nods, sparing Bucky a look who nods in response despite his shoulders beginning to fall forward in despair.

Both Emilie and Strange turn their backs to face the other sorcerers and begin their process. "So, Y/n will be home." Sam chuckles dryly at the thought, after all these years without you to tease him or make him smile when times got tough. He knew he owed you more than these past few years, even if he's not been there to help you through them, he'll help you now.

Wandering the halls of the Institute, your fingers glide across the walls laced with memories. You'll never forget the children, their laughter or cries for a Mother figure and them finding comfort in you for a short while.

You find your feet guiding you toward Laszlo's office, the door remaining ajar and piano now clean from dust too tempting to ignore.

Sitting down once more your back remains turned from the doorway. Yet this time, you can sense Laszlo lingering, watching you closely as you begin to play a gentle melody.

With your eyes closed, your fingers guide the tune, one you knew from childhood- a simpler time before everything became so complicated when there were no worldly threats and a lifetime of loss.

"You played that once before," Laszlo enters his office, listening to the song ending and catches your fingers slipping from the keys. "Christmas Eve last year." He remembers, unaware of the tears forming in your eyes whilst he smiles at the memory.

"My mother taught it to me," You whisper, not wishing to shatter the moment with volume. "she, she would always sing along whilst dancing with my siblings." A single tear falls to your lap upon feeling Laszlo's hand rest on your shoulder, followed by his lips to the top of your head.

"I know Schatz, we danced together, along with Sara and John." Laszlo recalls as he lifts his head up, catching the downturn of your lips.

"Oh, of course," The words pass your lips in a mumble. "it's getting worse, Las." You hate to admit it aloud, but you both knew it would happen eventually.

Taking the spot beside you, Laszlo wraps his arm around you allowing you to rest your head on his chest. With a heavy sigh, he closes his eyes, treasuring this moment with you. "We knew this was coming, Y/n." Laszlo remains truthful, no matter how much it hurts. "But there's no need to be afraid, remember that."

Laszlo can hear you sniffling at his words he uses his bad arm to try and lift your chin so you can look at him properly.

Despite your blurred vision, you can tell he's crying too. "What if something happens?" You dare to question, knowing this is filled with uncertainties for you both.

"We'll figure it out, just like we always have." Laszlo states as he leans in, his lips brushing over yours. "It'll all work out, my dear." He mutters to you before kissing you again, this time not wanting to dare let go of you.

On the sidelines to the final preparation stands Bucky, watching everyone's movements and listening to the conversation.

"I thought you'd be more excited, hell, I anticipated a smile at the least." Sam tries to lighten the tense mood as he dares intrude Bucky from his thoughts.

Bucky pauses before sparing Sam a glance. "It's just not what I expected. After all this time." He admits, his mind racing with those photos and articles they all read about you.

You were a wife, a mother figure to children who needed one. A friend to many and a badass detective. It was everything you dreamt of having, but never had the opportunity to experience.

"Don't go telling me you wanna back out?" Sam notices the change in Bucky's posture immediately.

Shaking his head slowly, no more words are exchanged between the pair.

"It'll be Y/n's choice, Sam." Zemo comments, having overheard the brief conversation.

"But she should come home, to where she belongs." Sam can't help himself. He knows he might be selfish, but he doesn't want to lose you again, not like this. "If she doesn't come back, she's gone for good. There's no returning, no miracle, no spell or time travel available. She will become nothing more than a name on a gravestone."

Sam's words fall flat between everyone. His voice had risen during his statement.

Strange clears his throat, ensuring their attention reverts. "It's time, she's ready."

Every student present begins to form a line whilst Strange stands before them. "You know what to do, focus." He nods to them all, stepping back toward Bucky, Sam and Zemo as the students take deep breaths.

"You sure this'll work?" Sam can't help ask, depiste how much extensive practise has gone into this.

One by one, a portal begins to open. Some are to places unrecognisable, the wrong time period or the wrong city.

Yet, Emilie's leads to Doctor Laszlo Kreizler's institute.

"Well, who's going?" Emilie asks with a hint of a smile on her face, watching Strange, Sam and Bucky enter, leaving Zemo to stand watching. "You not joining?"

Zemo keeps his feet firmly planted on the spot. "It's not my place to be involved." He simply remarks, crossing his fingers behind his back, hoping you'll return.

"After all this, you're leaving?" Tears line Sara's cheeks, but she refuses to wipe them. This is her moment of weakness with the three people she trusts with everything. How was this supposed to become only two?

Laszlo's hand remains on your waist, holding you close. He can feel your body tensing, noting you clenching your fists as light streams through your veins.

"Trust me, if there was another way," You trail off when the pain intensifies. It feels like acid is pumping through your veins, causing you to fall into Laszlo who whispers comfort into your ear.

"We can't let her live like this," Laszlo kisses your temple, not wanting to face his friends. "she will be helped, she will be cured." He reaffirms. "That is what is important in this situation."

John, previously standing tall now slumps into the armchair. "I can't imagine our lives without you now, Y/n." John dryly chuckles, catching a half smile from you in response.

"I'll be back, John." You breathe out, missing the look Laszlo sends John. "Can't keep me gone. Not when there's so much to do around here." Forcing a small laugh, the pain begins to subside enough for you to support your own weight.

Yet, something shifts.

Laszlo notices, but Sara and John seem oblivious to such.

Without a second thought, your hand reaches for Laszlo's, taking his fingers between yours and clasping your hand into his. He squeezes three times, and you do in return.

"It's time." You stand tall, with your husband by your side. "Don't try and have too much fun without me, alright?"

Sara and John rise to their feet, embracing you in a hug before allowing you to walk out of the office, hand in hand with Laszlo.

Once you have turned the corner, Sara crumbles into John. "She's not coming back, is she?" Sara mutters, feeling John's hand on the back of her head, holding her close.

John needn't say a word, because they both knew from how tightly Laszlo held your hand, knowing it would soon slip from his forevermore.

Standing opposite the building, horses continued to neigh before being forced to walk on, guiding the carriages from their view leaving tracks of snow behind.

"We're really here, huh?" Sam looks in disbelief. Despite everything that's happened, this is probably in his top three weirdest situations.

Bucky watches intensely at the front door to the institution, the large gates guarding the building delicately wound with golden leaves. And then, his breath halters at the sight; you.

Strange can see it play out and extends his arm outward. "I wouldn't." His tone suggests a warning, and for once, Bucky obliges. "We have to let her do this, on her terms."

"How long do we have?" Sam asks, glancing back at the open portal. The rest of the sorcerers are supporting Emilie, seeing sweat drip from her forehead, her arms already trembling.

Without blinking, Strange responds. "5 minutes at most."

Dark clouds above begin to shake, dropping snowflakes down on the city, adding to the existing used pile beneath their feet.

The group watches you exit the building, hand in hand with Doctor Kreizler. If it were any other situation, Sam might've spared a laugh at your outfit, knowing how long it must've taken for you to comply to such a dress code.

You continue your conversation with Laszlo, pretending that this isn't it, because it's not, it cannot be. And then you see them, through the gates, your other family.

Without a chance to catch a breath, the piercing pain increases and you let out a scream.

"Schatz, it's alright, I've got you." Collapsing behind the gates, you close your eyes, embracing Laszlo as tears freely fall, almost freezing against your cheeks. "I've got you." He repeats, hearing hurried footsteps approaching the gates.

Two pairs of hands wrap around the gates, matched with concerned gazes set on you.

"Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, I take it?" Laszlo asks.

Neither Sam nor Bucky can get over the resemblance to the man standing on the other side of the portal, but they know this isn't the time to fixate on how you could hate one and love another.

"Can we come in?" Bucky questions, thankful when Laszlo nods.

Snapping the chains, the gates open outward.

"Come on, schatz." Laszlo lifts a hand up to your hair, brushing it out from your face, his heart sinking when you meet his gaze. "We both know this day would come, where one would say goodbye to the other before our time was up." He speaks clearly, submerging the pain in his voice.

Slowly you rise with his help, unaware of your oldest friends mere feet from you after all this time.

"Oh, Laszlo," You whisper, placing your hands on his cheeks, catching a tear he lets slip out at your delicate tone. "this isn't goodbye. There's still so much more for us to do."

Bringing his hands to cover yours, he moves them to his lips. "But I'm afraid we won't be doing it together, dear." He frets, feeling your hands shake in his.

"Our adventure isn't over, Las." Squeezing his hands three times, you focus on his deep eyes, remembering them clearly when he first stumbled upon you all those years ago. They were forever laced with kindness, and sincerity for those who needed help. He never had to help you, but he chose to. And now, you will do him the same kindness. "It is simply happening at different times."

Holding back a sob, Laszlo squeezes back three times. "And that is okay." You finish, leaning closer to kiss him.

When your lips meet his, you wish to never let go.

Every kiss replays in your mind. From the piano to your first time together, your wedding, the arguments, the relief after a case, near misses during said cases, celebrations, losses and every little moment in between.

Snowflakes mix with teardrops as you part.

"I will always love you, Laszlo." You whisper, wanting this to be said between you both, for him only.

His hands begin to slip from yours until they're empty of your warm embrace. "I love you, Y/n Kreizler." Laszlo mirrors your tone, watching your footprints in the snow lead toward the large portal before swallowing you whole.

The snow continues to fall, and your footprints begin to be covered. But you'll never be forgotten that easily, not by Laszlo.

As the portal consumes you, two pairs of arms support you. "We've got you, it's okay, doll." Bucky mutters, attempting to soothe you.

Looking over your shoulder, sparks of orange dissipate and your heart sinks. A scream overcomes your body, leaving you to slump to the ground with nothing left to give. That's when the world becomes blurred once more and turns into darkness.

Three months later. New York, 2025.

It still felt strange. The loss of him and that life is something you're unsure you'll ever overcome.

You, like many of your friends, have endured more loss than any person should experience in a lifetime. But knowing that doesn't make it any easier, nothing does.

Sitting in the living room with an almost cold mug of tea in hand, tear streaks are permanently dried to your cheeks.

"Y/n?" Zemo enters the room, hardly surprised when you do not respond nor spare him a glance.

Ever since you returned, you've been avoiding him. Zemo has an idea of why, but it's never been confirmed. You were escorted to Wakanda the night you returned, and only last week released with a clean bill of health to New York. A clean bill of physical help, no one can fix the scars on your mind with ease, not even Wakandan technology.

As an act of gratitude, you asked for them to spare Zemo for all he has done and helped with. Though you never told him to his face, you were grateful for everything that happened as, without it, you would never have known true love.

"Hello, Zemo." Your voice is still hoarse from the nightmares that plague your attempts at sleep. Everyone can hear you cry and scream for Laszlo. Usually, Bucky is the one who rushes in, trying to ease the pain like you once did for him. "How're you today?"

Nodding in response, despite the fact your back is facing him, Zemo approaches you cautiously. "I wanted to thank you, Y/n." Zemo acknowledges, nearing the sofa situated toward the large pane of windows.

"You deserve to live too." The sentence is muttered, but loud enough for Zemo to hear it. "I know I," You pause, daring to meet his gaze for the first time. "I can't go back." Tears immediately form in your eyes as you look at him.

Clean cut, hair parted differently. Even his stance and attire are unlike your beloved. But despite how much of him differ, it's still a punch in the gut to see him like this.

"How are you feeling today, Y/n?" Zemo rephrases, watching you roughly wipe your eyes with the tattered sleeves of your hoodie. "There's something I'd like to show you, only if you're feeling well enough for the excursion."

Rising to your feet with a heavy sigh, you face Zemo straight on. This time, your eyes do not waver from his. "I could use a change of scenery." You shrug, following behind him toward the front door.

Neither Sam or Bucky question the sight of you both leaving the building, instead they were thankful to see you, even if it were with Zemo. "Do you think?" Sam begins to question, noticing Bucky nod. "And do we?"

"No," Bucky answers curtly. "let him show her."

Walking alongside Zemo, the chill of winter catches you off guard as your arms remain tightly crossed.

"My wife, she always told me stories are often intertwined in life." Zemo quietly speaks up as you walk slowly alongside him. "When, when I left Sokovia, she wished me farewell like she normally would. I gave my son a hug goodbye," His voice cracks, causing you to pause and face him.

"That, that was the last time you saw them, isn't it?" Your hand rests on his upper arm as he barely nods. "What did she mean, about stoties being intertwined?"

An attempted smile crosses Zemo's lips at the memory of his wife's words. "She said there would always be people in our lives we'd meet, and for some reason, it would just make sense. I guess I'd never thought too deeply about it, until well," He trails off as you both continue walking toward an unknown destination.

"Until?" You press.

"Until you came into my apartment with a look of utter disgust, the opposite of the one my wife once had." He remarks, daring to glance over and see the visible confusion on his face. "You, you're a lot like her, Y/n. In many ways."

Words fail your lips, but you manage to hum.

"I don't expect you to say anything." Zemo adds fretfully.

"Where are we going?" You eventually question, noting the streets baring away from the liveliness of the city, drearing toward the quieter patches, peaceful even.

"It's just up ahead." He tells you, leaving you both to walk in silence toward the grass filled pathway.

Thick blades of grass and weeds were overgrown, leaving little of the original pathway exposed. Your eyes wandered the grounds, noticing the increase of angel statues, named etched in stone and dried, dying flowers planted at the bases.

Suddenly, your mind drifts back to a forgotten memory.

"This is where she'll be buried." Laszlo sighs deeply, resting his hand heavily on the cane, the other in yours. "It was all my fault."

"Don't say that, Laszlo." You hush him. "It was an accident, no one is to be of blame for this." Looking around the graveyard, many plots remained empty, awaiting a new resident to take a permanent place. "At least it is a pleasant resting place."

Lifting his head up, he follows your gaze toward the large hanging oak tree. "It is indeed." Laszlo remarks, stepping back and lightly pulls on your hand, guiding you out of the graveyard.

"Zemo," You breathe out, sparing him a teary glance.

"I won't intrude, but I thought this is something you deserved." He clears his throat, coming to a halt with you by his side. "It's the least I can do for you, Y/n." A small smile graces his lips when your eyes meet his, and an attempted one crosses your own.

Looking down, your knees become weak.

It's covered in moss, and cracked in areas. Mixtures of grey and white spread beneath the greenery that entraps it. But there, clearly etched into the stone; Doctor Laszlo Kriezler & Y/n Kriezler. Husband and Wife, lived long eventful lives. Their adventures together and apart will forever outlive them.

"He-" A sob lodges in your throat, your knees finally giving way. With Zemo's help, you cradle the mildewed grass beneath your feet as your fingers glide over your names, remaining together, forever.

"Whilst you were in Wakanda, Doctor Strange was able to find a small temporary loophole." Zemo begins to explain, remaining stood by your side whilst you quietly cry. Your palm never leaves your husband's name on the stone. "Bucky and Sam were able to visit Doctor Kriezler, inform him that you lived and will eventually be alright."

Sniffing, you can picture it now. Your oldest friends, going to meet your husband from the 1800s. As if your life wasn't weird enough.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Zemo pulls out an envelope and kneels beside you. "He wanted you to have this, Y/n."

A wax sealed, well well worn enclosed letter is in front of you. Even from here, it smells like the institute. Closing your eyes, you can see Laszlo now, hunched over his desk in the evening. Once all the children have gone to sleep, the fire behind him crackles. But you aren't there to fill the room with music or laughter. He'll be alone, writing you a letter, a final farewell.

Bringing the letter into your own hands, you sit upright. "Thank you, Zemo." You mumble, aware of his presence retreating to allow you this moment.

Cautiously, you lift the wax seal from the delicate paper to see his handwriting.

Wiping your eyes once more, you avoid splashing the ink with your tears as you begin to read his final letter to you, his love, his lost wife.

'My dearest Y/n, I know this has not been an easy journey for you, schatz, it was never intended to be. From the moment we first met, there was something in you I knew I couldn't live without knowing, even if John claimed insanity from me for allowing a woman dressed in such attire to be seen getting into our carriage; it was the least of my concern because I needed, I yearned to learn about this mystery woman. What I had not intended, was to fall in love with her. That, however, is not something I can ever regret, for it was the wisest decision I have made. Your smile, your wit, your laughter. My love, it is something I think of fondly, and I know Sara and John miss it too. We often sit in silence here at the institute, thinking back to those days after an investigation. How we'd all sit by the fire with a whiskey. You might accompany with music, and Sara may dare dance if she'd drank enough. Those are the moments I reflect on most; as you were candidly content. Your eyes would flicker with unfathomed joy which travelled to your lips and warmed my heart. I'm afraid to admit I can't bring myself to sit at the piano without you by my side. That being said, Y/n, my dear, I don't want you to suffer out there. We knew the consequences, even if neither wanted to admit such. I loved and will love you forevermore with everything, but I want you to do everything we never had the time for. Travel my love. See the world, take care of your spunky friends - they are exactly as you described them to be. If things were different, I'd say Sara might have taken some fancy (but best not repeat that.) Now, I am sure that you are aware of my burial place, one I had made originally for you. Even though I know you live on, you deserve a place here, one for us to visit. One day, I am sure my name will join yours, and that we will meet again.

Never forget my Y/n, our story is not over. It will continue again, in another life.

With all my love, yours, Laszlo.'

Crumbling into yourself, you have nothing left to voice. You hug the letter close to your chest, wanting and wishing for nothing more than it to be his arms around you. For Laszlo to whisper into your ear that everything will work out.

But he's not here. He's long gone and this is your reality of life without him.

"Y/n?" Zemo quietly calls your name, having approached one more upon seeing you curled into the damp grass as your shoulders shake.

Opening your eyes, you slowly look up at the man so alike to your love. It evokes something new completely within you as you focus on him. "T, thank you." You manage to find the words, knowing deep down that they aren't enough, no words will be enough as you look down at the letter in your grasp.

"I understand, Y/n." Zemo tells you softly, extending his hand toward you.

Accepting his help, you brush off the grass from yourself and glance back to the gravestone.

Silence falls between Zemo and you, but for once it isn't filled with tension and the unknown; it brings peace.

With the letter in hand, your thumb brushes over the wax seal before you tuck it into your pocket and face Zemo once more.

"Helmut?" You speak up, surprising both yourself and Zemo. You've never called him that, but it's embraced as he nods. "Would you like to see your family's memorial?"

Feeling his breath hitch in his throat, Zemo looks around in confusion. "This is real?" He asks in disbelief.

"Yes, Helmut. This is real." A soft smile forms on your lips, one of sure gratitude as Zemo's hand rests on his own heart. "Come on, we wouldn't want to keep them waiting."

"I, I," Stumbling over his own words, Zemo simply wraps his arms around you and brings you into a hug.

Tears form in his eyes whilst you cannot see him, but you can hear how fast his heart is beating.

Lifting your hand up, you rub his back whilst facing the gravestone, knowing somewhere, Laszlo is looking down with pride.

"You deserve closure too, Helmut. A whole new chapter awaits you out there." You mutter to him, closing your eyes and enjoying the embrace before you set off on a new adventure into the unknown. IALT SERIES TAGLIST: (sorry for making you lot wait nearly a whole year for the ending.) @zemosbaroness @fillechatoyante @country-cowgirl-101 @kpopnena @telesynths @thebookisbtr @mybisexualheartbeatsforzemo @ajeff855 @somethingthatsaysbubbles @fangirl-inthe-us @marchingicenotes7 @graniairish @lol-im-done @cinna-minseok @sapphiredreamer26 @swndmans @soxysarah92 @thehornyfemme @bloop-booop @fictionlandslanddreams

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baroquebucky · 3 years

Text

reach

soulmate au where when you touch your soulmate you see glimpses of your future with them; the winter soldier touches you and realizes there’s so much more out there

series masterlist // previous // next

part two

word count: 3.3k (worth it me thinks)

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs !! here is part two to touch !! i hope u guys enjoy !! might make a part 3 if you guys want ?!? let me know what u guys think !!

You stared at the clunky metal cuffs on your hands, silent as the four of you were squished together along with two agents. Tears staining your cheeks, you had stopped crying as soon as the agents had cuffed you, turning on a steely exterior.

“i knew him” Steve spoke, you were all silent as he stared at the floor, “he looked right at me like he didn’t even know me” his voice distant.

“that was over 70 years ago how is that possible?” Sam spoke, looking at you and then at Steve.

“Zola, Buckys whole unit was captured in 43” Steve explained, his gaze hardening, “Zola experimented on him, whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall” his voice softening.

“they must have found him and-” Steve’s voice was tender as he trailed off.

“none of that’s your fault steve” Natasha groaned, bleeding through the bandage you had put on her.

You looked over at her and frowned, “we need to get a doctor in here, she’s lost a lot of blood if we don’t put pressure on that wound” you turned, looking at one of guards next to you.

You flinched as they turned on the taser, scooting back closer to steve. Your eyes widened as they knocked out the other agent, taking off their helmet only to reveal Maria Hill. You smiled softly.

“that thing was squeezing my brain- who’s this guy?” She spoke, staring at sam.

After breaking out of the cuffs and escaping the truck the five of you headed to some secret base, you were quiet as they chatted among each other, thoughts of bucky clouding your mind.

“y/n, why- what happened?” Steve spoke gently, falling into step with you.

You looked at him, slowing down a little bit. “It was him steve” you whispered, voice shaking. Steve stopped completely, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the group.

“what- i thought- are you sure?” He rushed out, breathless.

“i saw us, together” you managed out, a tears falling from your eyes, “it was our future,” you looked at Steve, wiping your eyes before continuing to walk forward.

“y/n we have to talk about this” Steve rushed next to you and you nodded, he opened his mouth but you stopped him as you approached sam, Maria and natasha.

“not now, please” you pleaded and he nodded, holding your hand and squeezing it softly.

“She’ll want to see him first” Maria spoke, a smirk on her face as you all looked at each other in confusion, following her as she pushed some plastic curtains out of the way.

Your stomach fell and a smile found it’s way onto your face, “son of a bitch” you chuckled.

“about damn time” fury mumbled you couldn’t help but smile.

As they attended natasha the rest of you listened to fury rattle off his list of injuries, explaining why he had to stay hidden and why no one was told of him still being alive. You nodded along in understanding, your eyes trained on the floor before looking at him with a smile.

“does this mean i still have to turn in that report?”

Buckys mind was racing. The smell of freshly baked cookies and visions of you in his head. Even flashes of the blonde who was with you.

He could hear his scream after he fell, he saw flashes of them turning him into who he was now. He memorized your face, the way your hair looked and the smile you had on your face for the few seconds you had together. He focused on the future, the picnics and the singing.

Bucky mourned for himself, for who he was and who he wish he could become.

The sound of an argument and multiple footsteps brought him to reality, his eyes still red and nose pink from crying when he saw you. Alexander Pierce walked in and bucky felt sick to his stomach, watching as the agents lowered their weapons on his command.

“Mission report” he spoke coldly, angry when he had to repeat himself once more. Pierce crinkled his nose, hitting bucky in frustration.

Bucky hesitated, he shouldn’t tell them about you, he couldn’t. He needed you safe, he didn’t want you hurt.

“the man on the bridge, who was he” he mumbled, voice fragile as he spoke. Buckys eyes met Pierces, worry flickering in his eyes before pushing it away.

“i knew him” he mumbled, Pierce sitting in front of him. His words were fuzzy as he thought of you and the blonde man, he wanted you, he was meant to be with you. “but i knew him” bucky mumbled once more when Pierce finished talking, his lips pressing into a smal tight smile for a second.

“prep him” Pierce spoke, bucky wanted to cry, his stomach was in knots as Pierce told them to wipe him. Panic rose in his chest, he couldn’t forget you, he couldn’t lose his only hope in 70 years. He leaned back as they pushed him into his seat, his breathing ragged and heavier. He had to hold onto you, the smell on baking cookies in his mind as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I never liked him” you spoke, turning to Natasha, “i told you remember! You brushed me off” you huffed, turning your attention to Maria and some suitcase.

Maria explained insights plan, telling the four of you how to stop the carriers. Making sure to emphasize the need to link all three carriers.

“- we can salvage what’s left” Nick spoke, you furrowed your brows and shook your head, anger bubbling in your chest.

“we aren’t salvaging anything!” You spoke angrily, Nick staring at you in shock. Steve nodded his head.

“we’re taking down SHIELD” Steve spoke and Nick tried to defend himself, “SHIELD had nothing to do with this!” The man grumbled.

“You gave me this mission, this is how it ends” Steve spoke firmly, “SHIELDS been compromised you said so yourself, HYDRA grew under your nose and you didn’t even notice” his brows furrowed and eyes cold.

“why do you think we’re meeting in a cave, i noticed” Nick shot back, you shook your head in disbelief.

“how many paid the price before you did?” You quipped, thinking about your soulmate, where was he? what would happen to him?

“I didn’t know about barnes” Nick softened, looking at Steve, the blonde rolled his eyes.

“even if you did would you have told me about it? Or would you compartmentalize that too” he scoffed, you bit your bottom lip in frustration.

“HYDRA, SHIELD, it all goes” you stated firmly, eyes set on fury, he looked around at the others.

“they’re right” Maria sighed.

You stood atop the dam, the sound of the wind rustling the trees calmed you down, you focused on one of the flashes you had seen when you touched bucky.

“You set this all up for little ol’ me?” You teased, bucky rolling his eyes with a smile on his face, taking your hand in his and leading you to the middle of the meadow he had found.

“only the best for my sweets” he replied, shooting a wink at you and you blushed slightly, the cool wind hitting your flushed skin.

“oh wow you even got us a little cake? went all out did you barnes” you teased and he smiled, letting a soft groan out.

“can you please stop laughing at me for five minutes” he pouted, and you smiled at him softly, sitting on the blanket and pulling his down with you, kissing the pout on his lips.

“i love it angel” you mumbled, kissing his lips softly before pulling away and reaching into the basket, pulling out the sandwiches and handing one to bucky along with a drink.

“found it the other day, thought you would like to watch the sunset from here instead of that old park” he spoke, taking a sip from the water bottle you handed him and your heart fluttered in your chest.

“i love you so much James” you mumbled, leaning over and peppering kisses all over his face, a smile on his lips as he soaked in all your loving.

You giggled as he moved over, picking you up with ease and spinning you around. Bucky set you down gently, you rested your head on his shoulder as you marveled at the sun setting, pinks and reds painting the sky, golden rays hitting the two of you.

“you know I’m yours forever, right doll?” Bucky mumbled, his head in your lap as you played with his hair. You smiled sweetly at him, nodding your head.

“and I’m yours forever and more lovebug” you replied.

“He’s gonna be there, you know” Sam spoke, causing you to jump slightly. Steve walked next to him, the two men approaching you.

“I know” you nodded.

“whoever he used to be, the guy he is now, he’s not the kind you save, he’s the kind you stop” Sam spoke, Steve standing next to you as Sam looked at the two of you.

“i don’t know if we can do that” Steve spoke for the two of you, Sam looked at you softly. Your eyes meeting and you gave him a small smile.

“he might not give you a choice” he whispered, you shook your head as he continued, “he doesn’t know you.”

“he has to, he has to remember me, I’m his soulmate” you spoke, eyes welling up with tears once more.

“gear up, it’s time” Steve spoke gently.

Your hands shook softly as you changed, taking in a deep breath as you fell into line with Maria, Sam and Steve, walking towards SHIELD.

“excuse us” you smiled as the man opened the door to the control center, moving out of your way quickly when he saw Maria and Sams guns, “alrighty star spangled man, your time to shine” you smiled, patting him on the back.

Steve began his speech, a proud smile on your face as he spoke, feeling the shift in the air, your heart thumping against your rib cage.

“did you write that down first? Or was it off the top of you head” Sam smiled and you laughed softly.

The sirens blared and you heard the echoes of gunshots, “they’re initiating launch” Maria spoke in your ear, you jogged next to Sam and Steve.

“how do we know the good guys from the bad guys?” Sam questioned.

“if they’re shooting at you they’re bad” you replied, Steve smiling before the two of you hopped down and fought the men on the airstrips.

You were in a whirl of punches and gunshots, throwing your knives and taking down men to help Steve get to the helicarriers.

Steve ran from behind you, the two of you running to put in the cartridge, “alpha lock!” You spoke, you and Steve running to leave the carrier. Sam calling out “bravo lock!” Not long after.

You took down a couple guards, hitching a ride with a pilot and Steve counting on sam to get him to the other helicarrier.

You ran out as soon as you could, blood running cold as you recognized the metal arm grabbing sams wing.

You froze as he tore the wing off, kicking him off the side, eyes wide you ran out, “Sam!” You cried out, panic filling your chest.

“I’m fine, I’m just grounded, I’m sorry guys” he apologized and you let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m still on the helicarrier, i got it” Steve spoke and you felt relief knowing he was safe.

“I’ll come down and help you” you spoke, turning around and coming face to face with three men. You groaned in annoyance as they approached you, moving quickly to take one of their guns, knocking them out with the butt. Using another one as a shield before kicking him off you and into the other man.

“Y/n no! Wait on my signal, he’s here and- we just need to wait for the right moment” Steve spoke, out of breath as he spoke. You hesitated, watching bucky run to beat Steve.

“okay” you spoke softly, doing what you could to make sure it was only steve and bucky in the helicarrier.

It felt like an eternity until Steve finally called for you, breathless. “Y/n get down here!” You ran quickly, maneuvering your way down and seeing the two men fighting.

“take it!” Steve yelled, bucky laying on the floor next to him, you nodded, running up to him as his tossed it to you, catching it before taking off again.

You felt the bullet whirl next to your head, he was shooting at you. Your stomach fell as you realized, running faster. You heard Steve groan, falling next to you.

“Steve!” You cried out, stopping before realizing you had mere seconds left. You saw the blood through his suit, biting your lip before taking off, hurrying to put in the cartridge, rushing to help Steve up.

“Charlie lock!” You cried out, putting his weight on your shoulder, struggling to carry him.

“get out of there!” Maria called, you looked at Steve, his eyes telling you all you needed to know, you nodded softly.

“fire now” Steve spoke, Maria began to argue but you cut her off, “do it!” You commanded, losing your balance as the helicarriers shot at each other.

Bucky’s groan caught your attention, your heart breaking as you saw he was trapped under a piece of metal. Without hesitation you and Steve jumped down, lifting the metal between the two of you.

“it’s gonna be okay” you whispered, moving to reach out only for the helicarrier to decline sharply, causing you to slip away, inches from his hand.

You grasped onto a ledge, steadying yourself and attempting to get back to the two super soldiers, the constant explosions making it difficult.

Bucky punched Steve, fear in his eyes as they spoke, you ran to them, continuously getting knocked over by the crashes.

“I’m not gonna fight you, you’re my friend” you heard Steve say, dropping the shield as bucky tackled him.

“you’re my mission!” Bucky spoke, anger in his eyes.

You leaped, tackling Bucky off of Steve, flashes of your future in both of your eyes.

“y/n!” Steve cried out.

“no wait pull over!” You cried out, eyes focusing on a box you had passed on the highway, bucky furrowed his brows in confusion.

“doll it’s raining it’s just a box” he slowed down, pulling over anyway.

“no there were cats!” you squealed, unlocking your door quickly and running out of the car, the rain immediately drenching you to the bone. Bucky cursed softly as you ran out without your jacket, following you quickly. His eyes landing on the two cats in your arms.

“told you so” you teased, motioning for him to grab the other two from the box. Bucky grabbed them quickly, running to your car and setting them on your lap, wrapping them in your jacket and trying to warm them up.

You arrived at the shelter quickly, heart aching as they took the four kittens from you. The small white one mewling and sinking his claws into your shirt, you smiled softly before taking his claws out of the fabric, handing him to a vet.

“We’ll call you when we’re done with all the tests and diagnostics” the woman smiled kindly and you nodded, bucky slipping his hand into your easily and you leaned into his warmth.

You were cuddled up next to bucky on the couch, head on his chest and watching one of your favorite shows.

“doll?” Bucky called out, moving you gently and you got up from his chest.

“sorry, I’m just worried about the kittens is all” you sighed, chewing on your bottom lip, bucky let out a breath before pulling you into his lap.

“that white one really liked you” he chuckled and you nodded, a smile on your face as you remembered the way he didn’t want to leave you.

“almost as much as you do huh” you teased and bucky laughed, shaking his head at your statement.

“no one can love you as much as i do dollface” he replied, his face serious before breaking into a smile as you rolled your eyes. You moved to get off his lap but he stopped you.

“why don’t we keep him” he smiled, nervous as he proposed the idea to you, “you could use some company when i go away for missions and I’ve always wanted a cat, and plus statistics say people are happier with pets-” bucky rambled.

“yes! oh my god finally! I’m so excited” you cheered, jumping of the couch and hopping around, a smile on your face as you turned to look at bucky.

Bucky smiled as you sat back down, leaning in to kiss him softly, a smile on both of your faces. “Should name him alpine” Bucky suggested a smile on his face as you nodded.

Bucky went overboard on toys and treats, his arms full as he set the bags down, a smile on his face as you finished kitten proofing the apartment.

“James! You didn’t need to get that much” you spoke shocked at the amount of things he got for your new kitten.

“this is our son we are talking about, he deserves the world” bucky scoffed, fixing the bags and putting everything away, the two of you excited to pick up your new child.

The two of you played with alpine for hours when he got home, giggles filling the apartment as you observed his antics. The three of you curled up on the couch, alpine asleep in your lap as bucky had his arm around you, some documentary playing.

“i love our family” you smiled, looking at bucky and kissing his jaw softly. He smiled at you as you pulled away, laying your head on his chest again.

“i love it too sweets” his heart was melting at the sight of you, cozy in his arms with the kitten in your lap.

“I’m yours forever bucky” you whispered, eyes closing as exhausting took over, his heart fluttered.

“I’m yours forever y/n” he replied, a smile on his face as the words left his lips.

Buckys eyes widened as the scenario played out in his eyes, you looked at him, a small smile on your face.

“it’s you” he whispered, a small smile forming on his face.

“it’s me, forever” you mumbled, moving to sit up and hug him.

Before you could, debris broke the glass you were laying on, your reflexes not quick enough to hold onto something, causing you to fall into the water, fear in Buckys eyes.

Both him and Steve dove in after you, bucky reaching you before his friend and pulling you out frantically. Steve helped drag you to shore, shaking you before giving you CPR.

You coughed up water, rolling around before your vision cleared, a smile on your face as you saw Steve, wrapping your arms around him.

“wheres bucky?” You questioned, heart sinking as you searched for the metal armed man.

“i- he was just here” Steve spoke, looking around, panic in his eyes.

Within moments Maria, Natasha and Sam found the two of you, rushing you to a hospital, treating all your wounds and any broken bones. Falling asleep moments after with Sam watching over both you and Steve.

It had been close to a month since SHIELD fell, since you last saw bucky. You woke up to knocking on your door, your eyes bleary as you checked the time, 7:34 am.

You groaned and forced yourself out of bed, “who needs something at 7 am on a Saturday!” You called out, angrily opening the door. Your anger sizzled away within seconds, you eyes meeting the baby blue ones you had only seen for moments at a time.

“Bucky” you whispered, your wind had been knocked out of you as you saw your soulmate on the other side of the door.

“hi doll” he smiled softly, his eyes brighter as he looked at you.

tag list !

@felicityofbakerstreet @newyork47 @classygirlything @ebxny27 @hhaydenn @miaangel24 @shawnie--jo @quinnmaddie @mugscraps

2K notes · View notes

lxnerwriter · 3 years

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Just A Hall Apart

Request: hii! i really love your moonjo x reader fic😩 and as you said, i haven’t really found many good fics of him paired w the reader :( so, would you consider to write another one where the reader is technically in jong woo’s position? or perhaps any setting that’d be similar to that? it’d be great if you make it into a series, BUT that’s all up to you! don’t put yourself in too much pressure though❤️ thank uuu sm!!

Note From Author: So happy that you enjoy my work!!! Well, your wish is my command. This will be a multiple chapter fic with a lot of twists and turns. But I hope this is too your satisfaction. The setting is similar to Strangers From Hell, but not exactly the same. I will try to update this story as soon as I can, so bare with me!! Hope you enjoy and let me know how you like it!

Summary: You needed a place too stay, and you would be dumb to not accept Moon-jo’s offer. A nice apartment? And a hot roommate? Things just seemed to fall into place... but not for long. Things aren’t always as perfect as they may appear.

Pairings: Seo Moon-jo x Reader

Genre: Thriller AU

Rate: 18+

Word Count: 1,297

Warnings For This Chapter: Not any... yet

“So this is it, huh?” you looked up at your apartment building. When you agreed to room with a complete stranger, you didn’t expect it to be like this.

Ok, first off, it wasn’t a complete stranger. You were smarter than that. After you lost your place, you were desperate for somewhere to stay. And your childhood best friend, Yoongi, recommend that one of his friends had a two bedroom, two bathroom apartment and was looking for a roommate. And you trusted Yoongi more than anything. So you agreed to give him a call. The man’s name was Moon-jo. Seo Moon-jo. When you talked to him on the phone, he seemed normal. Nothing seemed off about him, and after calculating the rent which you both would split, you decided that the smartest thing to do would be to accept his offer. I mean… what could go wrong?

So when you pulled up at your now-apartment, you were in awe. You expected a shabby place with dirty walls. But you were wrong. It was a beautiful complex. You even looked down at your phone to make sure you were in the right place, and you were.

You made your way inside, and once inside, you were greeted by the front desk lady. She seemed nice, maybe in her fifties, with black curly hair and a pretty smile. “Hello, dear. What can I do to help you this afternoon?”

“I’m moving into Room 523 on Floor 5. Well, not by myself, I’m moving in with a roommate,” you said as you rolled your suitcase back and forth on the ground.

“Mmm, oh Moon-jo told me about you! He said he was expecting someone,” she reached out and handed you a key, “here you go. Elevator’s that way.” The lady pointed down the hall. “Hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you, Miss-“ you paused before you looked down at her name tag. “Thank you Miss Park.” You bowed politely and made your way to the elevator.

You were nervous. What if you were moving in with a creep? What if Moon-jo thinks you are a creep? All these what-ifs were going on your mind as the elevator rose to floor 5.

Ding! Ding!

“Shit…” You whispered as the doors opened. Floor five was nice. Rooms ran up and down the halls, and it was quiet. Too quiet. Finally, you reached your room. It looked normal. Nothing stood out about it. It just looked like every other room. After knocking twice, the door opened in a blink of an eye.   “Well, hello. Y/N, right?” His voice rang through your ears, and you instantly looked up at him.

Fuck, Moon-jo looked good. His dark brown hair fell in front of his gorgeous brown eyes. He wore a form fitting button up white shirt with black slacks. He looked comfortable yet proper. Glasses sat on the tip of his broad nose. He looked professional, like he was a businessman or a doctor.

“Y/N?” Moon-jo repeated your name with a slight chuckle, bringing you back to reality. You probably looked so dumb. You admit it, you were awestruck. But you didn’t want him to know that. But he could tell.

“Yes! Sorry. I’m Y/N. Moon-jo?”

“Mmhm. Nice to meet you. Welcome to my, well, our humble home. Come on in,” he reached his right arm out, welcoming you to his humble abode.

The room was big. Huge even. The door opened up to the huge living room. The TV hung on the wall, and a white couch sat infront of it. What separated the living room from the kitchen was an island which was covered in white tile. The kitchen… wow… the kitchen was absolutely beautiful. The counters were coated in white tile, and the stove was flameless. Down the long hall were two bedrooms on opposite sides. A bathroom sat right next to the bedroom, and you were glad that you had your own bathroom. Sharing a bathroom with a man might have been a struggle.

“Let me take your luggage,” Moon-jo reached out and grabbed your suitcases. “Your bedroom is down the hall to the left. Look around. Make yourself at home.”

You nodded and smiled, “Thank you…”

He did a slight bow and grinned back. Fuck, he has nice teeth too. He had a beautiful smile. A fucking gorgeous smile. You walked to the kitchen and glided your hands across the smooth white tile. Gorgeous. You loved this kitchen; you loved to cook so you were imagining all the fancy meals you could prepare

The living room was also gorgeous. The couch was comfortable as well. Sitting on the coffee table was a picture. A picture of Moon-jo. Well, not Moon-jo by himself, but Moon-jo with a lot of other professionals. They all were wearing white jackets. What is he? A doctor? A nurse?

“A dentist.” Moon-jo’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Huh?” You snapped out of your own little world and questioned him.

“I’m a dentist. And my hours are long, so I am not home that often. I might run into you every once and awhile. But I know you still want your privacy, so I won’t disturb you. I don’t mind having a little company while I am home, so if you ever want to talk after a long day, I’m right down the hall.” He chuckled. He looked down on you, literally. He was a few inches taller than you which intimidated you. But you maintained a smile on your face.

“Oh ok! I’ll keep that in mind. I’m usually at school all day, so I won’t be back til late at night as well,” you sat down on the couch as he sat down across from you in one of his white armchairs.

“What do you study?” He questioned you as he took his glasses off and set them on the coffee table.

“I study psychology. Don’t laugh, but I want to work at a mental hospital in the mere future.” you looked down, embarrassed of your career choice.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Y/N” Moon-jo crossed his arms and leaned back. This man was practically man-spreading infront of you and you were flipping out internally. “A mental hospital. Huh. What draws you toward that?”

Your eyes lit up in anticipation. “Oh! Ever since I was little, I was interested in the mind of those who perform abnormal behavior.“

“Like psychopaths?” Moon-jo’s eyes lit up as well. It seemed as if he enjoyed the topic of conversation.

“Exactly.” you grinned. You enjoyed talking about what you loved. And Moon-jo seemed to enjoy it too.

“You know, you may meet people like that on a day to day basis without actually knowing. Psychopaths are very good at covering up their true identity,” he nodded his head forward. He could tell that you were very enthusiastic about the topic; he loved that about you already.

“I know. And that is why I was iffy on moving in with a complete stranger. But you seem pretty normal to me,” you laughed and he laughed along with you. He seemed to find that comment amusing. And you wondered why, but it was none of your business.

“Mmm.” he stood up out of his chair and began to walk to the door. “I have a work dinner tonight. It was great talking to you. I would love to do it another time.”

“Well, we are roommates after all.” you stood up as well, smiling at him.

“Have a great day, Y/N.” he closed the door and left the apartment.

You could get used to this. A hot roomie? And he was polite? You seemed to enjoy this… and it was only the first day. But you had no idea what was about to come.

Note: The chapters will get longer as time goes on. Promise!!

#Seo Moonjo #seo moon jo #stranger from hell #seo moonjo x reader #obsession

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fuckyeahfightlock · 7 months

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Two Days (9k, M) posted 28 MAR 2014

Sherlock (TV), 3,743 hits, 189 kudos

Summary: Sherlock's arrested and John must use "his own methods" to free him before his reputation is ruined. A present day, BBC-Sherlock remix of "Two Days," a Victorian, ACD-Sherlock Holmes story by tweedisgood.

Grade: C+

What I would do differently: This story did not need to happen, despite how much I love tweedisgood's original; I just don't think it works as well in the universe of BBC Sherlock as I wanted it to. If I were to rewrite it today, I'd have changed it much more, structurally, and not tried as hard to preserve the tone and language of the source material--it should be in my voice if it's my story.

I'm so very very glad that I eventually learned I could just delete comments from jerks, and not engage with them; this story brought along a really mean reader who accused me of plagiarism because she clearly didn't understand transformative works, blanket permission to remix, etc, etc. I'd have shut her down WAY earlier if I'd only known better. I enjoyed deleting her comments (and my replies) just now!

Notes: All my favourite lines from this are lifted from the original story; I don't think I added anything very valuable, though I did really love tweedisgood's story and had good intentions of paying homage to something I loved. There's something to be learned here that reminds me of a thing I try to teach my children: we can like something without having to own it.

I would not write a story like this now. But, along with other stories I recently wrote up, Acid (with a co-author) and Five Things the Other Doctor Whispered in Rose's Ear (using the "five things' trope/structure), it's an indication of how early I was in my journey, and I do think it was smart of me to just try a bunch of different things, whether they worked well or not, as it helped me find my strengths as an author.

I still recommend Cellar_Door's podfic of the original story by tweedisgood. Where do we even listen to podfics anymore? Surely not still on soundcloud?

#my decade in fic #Two Days #writing #fic #tweedisgood

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0lympia · 3 years

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“when the pillars fall” shoto todoroki

Inspired by @/maddsbuckley on TikTok. Please go check her out, she’s amazing!

x x x

summary: shoto todoroki is strong, and he’s got the good looks to boot. but sometimes, in the dead of night, he falls apart and without fail, you’re there. you’re always there for him. then, the pillars fell, and he’s there for you just as much as you are for him.

genre: angst with a kinda happy ending

warnings: manga spoilers, takes place after the war arc, some cursing, critical injuries, hospitalization, shoto and reader are weak for each other

word count: 2,217

Shoto Todoroki is supposed to be a hero prodigy. Shoto Todoroki is supposed to stand tall and strong, and keep his father's hero legacy alive.

And he's all of those things. Except for late at night when he comes creeping into your dorm with the key you gave him to crawl underneath the covers with you because of a nightmare he had.

"I'm sorry. I can go if you want." Is what he says the first time he comes to your dorm, but knocking this time because you had yet to give him his own key.

"You've gotta at least tell me what's wrong first." You say gently, and he crumbles. He mumbles that it was just a silly little nightmare as tears roll slowly down his face and you pull him into your dorm to cuddle.

"It's not stupid if it woke you up, Sho," You say as he pulls you into him like you're a teddy bear. And it’s always a little awkward cuddling with him after he’s had a nightmare, his body fluctuating sporadically between hot and cold, but you don’t mind because the longer he holds you the faster you fall back asleep.

You ask him if he wants to tell you about it, but Shoto never does, saying that he’s already forgotten, but the feeling stays longer than the visual. And you nod, and drift off faster than you should, but Shoto doesn’t mind - he never does - and he’s so completely lost in you. He’s so completely enamored by you, and he’s never been so happy to be lost.

He continues to knock for his next five visits after the first night, and you eventually get tired of him waking you up in the dead of the night so you give him his own key.

The seventh time he shows up at your door, he doesn’t use the key. No, instead, he stands outside your door and calls you. The dial tone rings in his ear and it doesn’t help soothe the tightness in his chest or the lump in his throat at all, and he wonders if it’s really so bad for him to use the key you’d given him. Eventually though, you answer - you always do - and he falls in love with you all over again.

“Sho?” You ask, voice scratchy and stiff, and he can hear you through the door, “What’s going on?”

It’s technically a stupid question to ask, you know he’d only ever call you so late at night if he’d had a nightmare, but he also doesn’t call you very often either.

“Can I come in?” Shoto asks, and you make a groggy noise of confusion.

“What d’ya mean, Sho?”

“Can I come in?” He repeats, and then softly knocks twice on your door.

You hang up then, and Shoto watches your door swing open with tears pricking at his eyes. And when you drag him into bed with you the world feels like it could never be wide enough.

x x x

Then, your world fell apart.

The pillars that held up Japan’s hero society crumbled in a measly seven hours.

With too many prison breaks, fatalities, and injuries to count, Shoto could care less. Because you were gone. He’d been with you early that morning, before everything fell apart.

He’d been in bed with you, cuddled up close and basking in your presence, the two of you had changed into your hero costumes together. He’d been with you for hundreds of hours too little that morning, and he wants to know where you are.

He asks his older brother Natsuo where you are by showing him the little sticky note that he’d written the question on and shown to every nurse, doctor, teacher, and friend that came in to see him. His throat had been burned to hell, and he wished more than anything to get up and ask every damned person in the hospital where you were.

He’s supposed to be talking about Touya - he’s not Touya anymore, he has to remind to himself, that man is Dabi, not Touya - and all he can think about is you.

Shoto has to remind himself that he can’t cry. Because right now, the people around him need him to be strong, and that includes you, where ever you are. He hopes you can feel him wavering, desperately wishes for you to show up.

It’s on his sixth night in the hospital that somebody finally tells him where you are. It’s Bakugo, surprisingly enough.

“Hey, IcyHot,” Bakugo greets, and Shoto uses text-to-speech to ask him if he should even be walking. The blonde is covered in just as many bandages as Shoto, and when Aizawa had come by on his third day in the hospital, Shoto had been told all about everybody’s condition except yours.

“Yeah, i’m fine,” Bakugo says, easing himself into hard plastic chair next to Shoto’s hospital bed, “Y/N’s not though.”

Shoto croaks out a pathetic noise, but Bakugo doesn’t need prompting.

“All the other damn extras said not to say anything to you,” Bakugo continues, and for the first time ever, the cocky blonde is visibly nervous, worried, even, “Y/N’s in the ICU. They haven’t stabilized since they got in. Nobody’s told me what happened to them, but apparently Dunce Face was one of the last people to see her before she was brought here. He... He thought that Y/N was already dead when he last saw them. They’re in a medically induced coma, according to Mr.Aizawa.”

Shoto sits there, in silence except for the quiet humming of the AC unit, for thirty minutes. Bakugo sits with him, just as quiet.

“Where are they now?” Shoto’s phone asks, the words choppy and abrupt, and Bakugo looks pained when he tells him your room number. Neither of them do anything for a while after that, and Bakugo sits in the hard plastic chair that’d begun to make his butt sore until Shoto falls asleep with a million things on the tip of his tongue.

Shoto is released from the hospital four days later, extensive healing and pain meds made sure of that, and nobody had been allowed to see you yet. He’d asked around, and eventually he learned that you’d undergone six different procedures since you’d arrived.

Tonight would be your seventh.

x x x

It’s hot. Very hot.

The flames are blue, and a few of them lick at you, but they don’t burn. There’s a battle cry from both sides, and you watch as villains pour from the Gunga Mountain Villa. It takes five minutes, and war has broken out all around you.

You’re fighting too, better suited for close combat, and you’re watching your classmates, your friends being battered around, fighting in a war that they shouldn’t be fighting.

You’re the first to make inside the building, and you’re vaguely aware that you’re bleeding. Fatgum tells you to retreat, telling you that you look on the verge of death. You tell him you’re fine.

You’re not fine. The building is rumbling, and the ceiling’s begun to cave in, it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t see through the blood that’s caked over your left eye.

The pillars fall in seven seconds, and you fall too.

You call for him, for Shoto, in the last three seconds of your consciousness, you call for him.

It’s dark.

x x x

When you wake up, really wake up and open your eyes to look right into the harsh white fluorescent lights of your hospital room, nobody’s there with you. There’s a vase of dying roses on the windowsill, and you can already tell from the crisp handwriting on the brown tag that Shoto had been the one to leave them. And it’s cold, but you prefer that to the blazing heat you’d felt when you’d fallen asleep.

Where is Sho anyway?

Your heart monitor steadily beeps away, and when a nurse comes in to check your vitals she’s surprised to see you’re awake. And even more surprised when the first thing you ask for is Shoto.

“Sho,” You say, and your voice is dry and raw and barely a whisper, “Where’s Sho?”

The nurse stares at you wide-eyes for a moment, before she gets you a little dixie cup of water.

“Who’s Sho?” She asks, and you struggle to swallow the little cup of water she’d given you.

“Shoto Todoroki,” You say, “Is he here?”

The nurse purses her lips, and looks at you sadly, and you wonder what she’s thinking about before she tells you that she’ll be right back with the doctor. She leaves three more dixie cups of water on your foldaway table before leaving.

You sit there for almost an hour before the door opens again, and it’s a horrible hour because every time you close your eyes all you can see is the bloody battle that should have killed you.

The doctor comes in first, and right behind him is the person you’d been thinking about since you’d woken up. You’d been with him all that morning before the war, and all that night. And you were with him now.

The doctor tells you what day it is, and you start crying when he tells you it’s been almost a month since you’d first been admitted to the hospital.

“Fuck,” You whimper, voice crackling and breaking as you reach out for Shoto, and he’s there - he always is - and his hand feels so good in yours - it always does - and you start crying even harder when you see the tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sho. You look so tired.”

“I love you,” And he says it like there will never be another chance to say it, and once the first ‘I love you’ leaves his mouth fifty more follow. And the doctor looks you over as best he can, before telling you that you’re cleared for visitors and that you’d be able to leave within the week.

And as Shoto begins to cry he has to remind himself that he is supposed to be a hero prodigy. That he’s supposed to stand tall and strong, and keep his father's hero legacy alive. But you hold onto his fingers so tightly, and for once, you’re asking if you can come over because you’ve just had a nightmare. It’s a shared nightmare, Shoto tells you, shared by millions.

Two days later you’re allowed to go back home, back to the dorms, and Shoto has to help you get dressed because you can barely breathe standing up let alone walk without your legs collapsing. Shoto kisses your tears away when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You’re covered in scars, and there are still stitches in places where the wounds were slower to heal.

Your whole world fell apart in seven hours that day, and it continued to fall apart after that. Shoto’s there for you the whole way back to UA, and he tells you that your school, your second home, had become a home to thousands of others too. Shoto had given his dorm away and he’d been staying at his family home while you’d been in the hospital.

But your dorm is still there. And nothing’s changed at all.

“I’ve also been staying here too,” Shoto tells you when he helps you into bed, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all, Sho,” You tell him - you never do mind - and he crawls into bed next to you, minding your right knee with it’s poky little stitches and the new metal patella that replaced the kneecap you’d shattered during the war.

Japan fell apart in four days, Shoto tells you, and you can’t find it in you to care, because the world is too big and too wide but Shoto makes it feel smaller.

It was dark, when the pillars fell. And the two of you are blind, lost in it, and you’d never been so afraid of being lost.

“I don’t think I can go back to hero work,” You tell him early the next morning, as he gets dressed to go back to his family home, “Not for a long time.”

“That’s okay, my love,” He replies, he won’t tell you, but he’s not sure he wants you to go back, “Do you want to come home with me?”

He doesn’t need to ask, because he would have taken you with him anyway.

“Yeah,” You tell him, and you struggle to push yourself up into a sitting position, “Just... Will you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you won’t die.”

It’s stupid thing to ask for, you know it is. Because everybody dies eventually, but you don’t know what you’d do if you lost him. The two of you are lost, but at least you’re together.

Shoto doesn’t need to question it, because he’d thought you were dead for almost a whole week. And he doesn’t ever want to be without you, even though he knows he’ll have to.

“I promise you, Y/N, I won’t ever leave you, and I won’t die.”

It’s dark, Shoto thinks, as he helps you into the back of his father’s car, But it’s much less dark with you.

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l4verq · 3 years

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fight back | b.b

bucky barnes x enhanced!reader

in which bucky won’t lay a hand on you no matter what :(

tags : a little brawl, fluff cause icanthelpmyself, mentions of blood, john walker (idk if we're supposed to like him now ??) bucky is a cat lady okk

fic : one shot

a/n : inspired by that scene in the final ep of tfatws when karli is screaming at sam to fight back lol😳

|| gif by @unearthlydust ||

one world, one people.

you repeat it in your head one more time, when he comes into view, vibranium gleaming onyx with loops of gold.

you know that he knows you’re here, back to the wall a few feet away, peeking at him.

he doesn’t know that you let him know.

doesn’t know that you laid out a trap and just like the foolish mouse, he walked right into the lion’s den.

although you’re not sure who the fool actually is, when you meet his eyes, knees almost buckling at the sight just cause of how long it’s been without them.

“y/n.” he breathes out, almost in disbelief.

it’s been fourteen months since he woke up to an empty bed and a handwritten goodbye letter folded in a clean white envelope, tucked under a pillow still marked by the soft indentation of your head.

fourteen months since you took off in the dead of night, pulling your- his hood over your head, the cold wind nipping at your skin, almost like it was punishing you.

maybe, it saw what you did.

oh, but fred definitely saw what you did, that damn cat always followed you two around even though it’s owner was the blonde next door. her name wasn’t even fred, bucky came up with it after the third time it snuck into the apartment.

he swore he hated it but always seemed to have a treat lying around in case it did come.

and it did, a lot. neglected by it’s owner, it chose to seek comfort in the couple next door, and sometimes a meal or two.

“sorry, no treat today bub.”

fred scowled - honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if an actual human was living in it - mewling as it came up to you for the usual chin rubs and cooes.

you sighed, caving into it’s antics, squatting to pet it.

cradling it’s head into your palm, she was purring, a very uncommon sight. fred doesn’t purr, she scratches and hisses at anything and everything that moves.

“you’re particularly nice today.” you commented, getting up. it mewled even louder this time but you turned on your heels and headed for the stairs.

you were already late.

your legs picked up pace quickly, easily crossing multiple blocks over in a few long strides owing to the blue serum coursing through your veins.

though your mind remained stationary, fixated on a single face, how it’d crumble at the sight of the letter, how he’d probably end up hating you.

“took you long enough.”

her auburn locks were tied into a loose braid that curved around her neck, the tip sat just below her collarbone, a piss poor job held together by a thin maroon colored band.

it was quintessentially her, the lack of utter patience to spend two minutes looping three knots of hair one over the other.

you jogged over to the other side of the black suv, noticing a stark white rectangle where a liscence plate should be.

“he’s knocked out cold,” you asked as soon as you grabbed the door handle open, “how?”

lazropthalein.

it came in the mail in a brown package, no return address. bucky wasn’t home, he had a scheduled therapy session down the block.

just a pinch is enough.

the text from the unknown number read.

it had no odour, a clean, white colour to it that blended in seamlessly with the flour.

“you baked without me?” bucky gasped, dramatically, hand covering his gaping mouth. his other hand carried two plastic bags, filled to the brim, a purple razor was poking out the top.

he even had to drop the poor bags on the floor, just to emphasize the utter shock he felt.

“i got bored.” you giggled, wiping the countertop with a wet cloth, remnants of flour on the sleek marble turning goopy under it.

“traitor.”

“it’s just cupcakes.”

“still a cake.”

you sighed, “you’re a five year old.”

he huffed, trudging towards the living room, shoulders hunched to really hone in on just how devastating this was for him.

“don’t i get a hug?” you held your arms out, making grabby hands, following him.

apparently, the devastation was to the point where he had to bring out the big guns, the sad baby blues.

the act lasted for another minute? at best. hours later, he was happily munching away.

“i know why it tastes so good.” he moaned, smacking his lips.

your smile faltered a little, did he kn- no, there’s no way he could have known. you burned that little plastic bag as soon as you dumped a pinch in.

“yea?”

he grinned, popping the last bit left in “it was made with your love.”

“how did it work?” your voice rose several octaves higher, amplified further by the cool, silent night.

drugs and sedatives don’t work on supersoldiers yet a certain blue eyed one was back home, unmoving even if you screamed right into his ears.

“dr wilfred, he invented it. the power broker wanted something to balance out our,” she flared her hands at both of you, “super-soldierness, so that we don’t have an upper hand when all’s said and done.”

would the either of you even be alive when all was said and done?

“look, i know you didn’t want to do this but james, he won’t understand. he’s not one o-..”

“yea, can we jus- let’s just get out of here.” you get in beside her, whipping the seatbelt over your torso.

the car was stuffy, felt like a choke around your neck that only seemed to tighten more and more.

“if we go now, there’s no coming back.” she glances at you, hand curled over the gearstick ready to position it in place.

she was giving you an out, one last chance. karli was a lot of things and having a heart inside that cold, bitchy exterior was one.

“i know.”

you sunk deeper into your seat, the hoodie had a faint smell of burnt toast and that cologne which was on sale, almost half off if you cut out the taxes.

it smelled like him, too much like him.

until it didn’t after a few days. but you still slept with it, just outright refusing to wash it despite karli’s snarky remarks about hygiene.

hygiene could go fuck herself, for all you know.

compared to the motels and basements you guys shifted around in, that hoodie was a doctor’s scrubs.

when the moon hung low on the black sky, you tried not to think about him too much. the silence didn’t help, you needed something to drown out your thoughts. that’s when the ‘socialising’ with the other flag smashers started. they were nice.

nice cause you were the leader’s little sister. but also a huge fucking liability because of a certain supersoldier hot on their heels in search of you, ruining every goddamn plan so their niceness was.. limited.

karli was a natural when it came to it, all of it. the talking, rallying of supporters - fuck, she just had a way with words. she could make you believe she hung up the stars in the sky.

probably how she convinced you that holding a room chock full of council members hostage right smack in the middle of nyc was a good idea.

the only idea, more precisely.

you guys had the upper hand, more than a handful supersoldiers at your disposal, capable of taking down the entire military force if you so pleased.

the only playing card they had was one supersoldier, who was better off distracted, kept off the field.

so who better to send to do the deed than the love of his life.

“fred had a baby. multiple babies, spawn of the devil if you ask me. always running around, thrashing the place up.” he takes small steps towards you, slow and calculated, as if a lion stalking around a prey.

“you shouldn’t be here.” you lie through your teeth, a tiny white compared to the ones that’ve rolled off your tongue before.

“i think the neighbours call me a cat lady now,” his eyes shift around and he leans in to whisper, “they haven’t even seen my knitting skills yet.”

“stop.” you think you said it or much rather whispered it, your voice was failing you. he’s getting close, too close for your liking so why aren’t you backing away from him?

“fred misses you, you know. she wonders where you went.” he smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

the hairs on your neck shoot up, a slight twitch of your brow. the way bucky’s ear perk up, you realise it’s not just you and him here anymore.

someone else has arrived.

“i’ve got it handled, john.” bucky turns around, plants him directly infront of you, blocking john’s view of you.

sure enough, it’s john limping in, a nasty gash across his chest.

your blood runs cold because this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

john isn’t supposed to be here, he’s supposed to be fighting.. oh god. you notice the various splatters of blood on his cowl, on his boot, on his shield.

it’s too much blood from a guy who’s barely bleeding.

“really? i was thinking you should do more than just talk.” he spits on the ground and wipes his mouth.

you notice, the spit’s all blood too.

“i’m giving you a chance to walk away, right now.”

john snorts, leaning sideways to get a view of you, neck craned out.

“and leave this prize all to yourself?” he grins, “i’d be an idiot.”

“you have a death wish then.” you lift your chin a little higher, praying your quickening heartbeat doesn’t give away your calm exterior.

john whistles, grimacing as he straightens, “so, she does talk.”

you scowl, crossing your arms.

he’s in bad shape. he has no chance, not that he ever did even in his best shape. he knows that too yet he’s still here. that sends a chill up your spine.

“go, i got this.” bucky tips his head, glancing at you.

“i don’t need you to save me.” you hiss at him, which comes out a little harsher than you intended. an apology dies in your throat as he flinches just the slightest.

“trouble in paradise?” john’s barely finished saying it before he’s reached behind his back and swinging the vibranium

you hear it before you see it stopped mid air by a gloved hand. then you charge.

it’s all a hazy mix of blue and red until your fist connects with his jaw, sound of something breaking ringing in your ear.

something pulls your waist back, a grip far too strong to be just flesh.

“go, i’ll ta-..” bucky’s barely said anything before an upward cut from john connects to his neck, violent coughs ensuing.

you grip john’s arm before he’s even retracted it back, jump up his back, settling around his neck and twist until you hear a crack and a bloodcurling scream following suit.

he whips his head back right into your stomach, seizes that moment when the wind knocks out of you to pull you by your hair off him.

“i told you to go.” bucky growls, kicking john right in the shin that makes him kneel and you almost fall off but you keep your fingers tightly looped around john’s hair, pulling as hard you can.

but he’s relentless.

your head hits something hard and you realise you’re on the ground now, legs loosely around john’s shoulders, him also on the ground.

it’s like the both of you realise at the same time but you’re quicker. your legs tighten around his neck, against the spot where a thick neck muscle throbs. he claws desperately around, straining for oxygen

soon, his hands lull down, the dull thud on the ground confirming his unconsciousness.

“are you hurt?” bucky’s hovering over you, seemingly unfazed by john’s neck in a chokehold by your legs right now.

you reject his hand he extends and push yourself off the gravelly concrete on to your feet.

“this was a mistake.” you trail off, saying it more to your own self.

you weren’t the lion, you were the stupid fox who thought it was.

stupid enough to believe you were over bucky and that everything wouldn’t come rushing back as soon as you laid eyes on him.

he whips you around by your hand and before you know it, he’s already caught your other fist heading for his sternum. you barely feel the grip, it’s soft, just so incredibly soft and fits so right.

you hate it.

rage bubbles inside you, mostly at yourself. partly at him because he’s not screaming at you or slamming you against the wall or jus- anything.

you wrench your hand away, land a swing which he does nothing to block. his grip on your other hand loosens and he still does nothing when another hit to the jaw leaves him staggering,

instead, he looks at you softly as if resigning himself to your anger, to let it simmer off.

“fight back!” you scream, outstretched palms pushing him back.

he stumbles a few steps back, hands reaching out to yours resting on his chest, fingers intertwining yours tightly.

“stop.” it’s a soft plead, tears spiking the corners of his eyes.

“hit me!” you’re practically begging at this point, thrashing your arms around.

his hands grapple at your shoulders, bringing you to his chest, “it’s okay.”

he smells so sweet, just so sweet that you almost believe him.

“i drugged you and i left you and i-,” you inhale sharply, “i killed so many people, bucky.”

the last fourteen months had escalated quickly from doing what’s right to doing what’s needed, lines blurred between moral ethics and survival.

“it’s okay.” he repeats, hand patting your hair, gentle and soothing. your body betrays you, sinking into his touch, his warmth.

“you should hate me.” you whimper.

you wouldn’t blame him if he did. you doubt he could hate you more than you already did yourself.

he pulls back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “i couldn’t if i tried.”

god, why does he have to be so.. bucky?

frustated, you spit out, “this? this was a distraction to separate you and sam.”

you don’t say it but it’s understood, understood that you wouldn’t have met him if not for it.

the inner corners of his brows angle up slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “i know.”

your breath hitches, if he knows then wh-

“then, why..?”

you finally look up at him, vision blurry because of the stupid tears pooling at your eyes.

his thumb wipes away a tear dribbling down your cheek, the coldness of the metal a clear contrast to the warm moisture, “you know why.”

a/n : this one’s been sitting pretty, collecting cobwebs in my drafts so thought i’d take it out lol, also haven’t been posting fics in a whileeee cause im dumb and i’ve been working on multiple things all at once lol yea this is me rambling and also i just wanna say that i. love. folklore. sm. that whole album has me crying and sad and just :((

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #fatws bucky #fatws #flag smashers #marvel #mcu

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gisellelx · 3 years

Text

Like a Raisin in the Sun

Saint Tropez, France

June 28, 2021

Despite all the trouble it caused them, all of their family liked the sun. Even Jasper, whose ruthlessly military affinity for the dark had taken decades to overcome, lay stretched out on a chaise, his eyes closed, with Alice curled up on his chest. Emmett and Rosalie were curled up on another set of chaises, Rosalie’s head on Emmett’s shoulder, his fingers stroking absently through her hair.

The estate they’d rented had a private beach, of course, and two large pools, and the main house itself was large enough that they couldn’t always hear from one side to the other. Small mercies after the beginning of the pandemic, when the nine of them had somehow managed to cram into their five bedroom cottage in Toulouse. Here at the coast, they all had plenty of room to be apart.

That turned out not to matter much, however. Except for a handful of times of day, when one couple or another would peel off into one of the suites so expansive they were large apartments unto themselves, they were together. Four pairs of chaise lounges feet from the water’s edge. Nine players around the Monopoly board Rosalie and Jasper had designed which was much more punishing and required a buy-in of two thousand euro from anyone who wanted to play to fund the “bank.” Seven in the audience around the Steinway, as Edward and Renesmee worked through the entirety of the four-handed Dolly Suite.

The water made an arrhythmic whoosh as it met sand over and over. Sometimes two waves came almost together, huge and frothy; other times it was the more gentle swish of a small, barely there swell of ocean. It was strange, beautiful, percussion-only symphony, and Edward could almost hear a melody over it, feeling his fingers begin to itch with the desire to compose.

Only one set of chaises sat empty, and as he gazed toward the horizon, he could see them: bright flashes of light between the two-foot swells. They were much farther out than would be safe for humans, having allowed the undertow to take them probably an eighth of a mile out to sea, to a sandbar where the waves crashed prematurely before building up again to come ashore. Between the waves, they stood only waist deep in water, the sun glinting off their shoulders and backs, sending shimmering rainbows across the dark sapphire of the waves.

Carlisle dove through a wave, emerging with hair dripping down his back. He ran a hand through it as he laughed and took a few strokes through the water to be closer to Esme, whose definitely-designed-to-scandalize-the-adult-children string bikini left more of her skin exposed than her husband's long swim trunks did his. Once together, a few steps further out took them both into deeper ocean where they treaded water, having a conversation Edward could not overhear.

So intent was he watching, he barely felt he hand on his shoulder as the chaise beside him became occupied, its regular owner having returned from retrieving a new book from the house. His wife settled in next to him, immediately following his gaze out to the distant sandbar. Together they listened to Esme’s giggling shriek as Carlisle picked her up and threw her full on into a large wave, followed immediately by Carlisle’s deep laughter as Esme recovered her footing and immediately picked him up and did the same. They slapped each other’s shoulders playfully, wiping water out of their eyes and shaking it out of their hair.

“They’re having so much fun out there,” Bella commented quietly.

Edward nodded, saying nothing. After several minutes more, his wife poked him in the side, making him chuckle.

“Sometimes I’d like to have your gift,” his wife said. “Know what you’re thinking.”

He laughed. “That makes two of us.”

It was their private joke, how Bella was his one silent mind. From time to time, she let him in, but it was difficult and she didn’t do it often. So he had scaled the uneasy cliff of learning to ask her to voice her thoughts, and to be more forthcoming about his own.

“I forget so often how young they are,” he answered, his voice quiet. “They should just be at the beach, splashing each other.”

“And then coming in and having mojitos,” Bella added.

Edward stared back out over the water.

“He would be just out of his M-1 year,” he muttered.

Bella laughed. “Carlisle? He’d be a rising M-3 at a minimum. You think he somehow didn’t finish college at least a year early?”

He laughed. “True.”

Bella leaned into him. “And she’d be the rising star architect at the boutique firm. Nobody can believe she has so little experience because her designs are so good.”

Edward slipped an arm over his wife’s bare shoulders. “How did they meet?”

“Mmmm.” Bella’s gaze returned to the ocean. “She designed the art museum and he went to a gala. He’d be looking at the Cezanne. And she would come up from behind him and start telling him about it.”

“Yeah and then he would compliment the architecture of the building and make her blush.”

Bella laughed. “A coincidence, or does he know who she is?”

“He knows who she is. He’s hitting on her.”

They both smiled.

“Does it work?”

Edward nodded. “She lets him buy her a glass of wine from the cash bar. And it’s generic and not very good so he offers to take her to a real wine bar after the event. And they sneak out of it a little early. He orders something way too fancy for his budget and he’s just going to put it on his credit card but—”

“—Esme sees straight through him and gets the check.”

Laughing again, Edward nodded. They both fell silent for a moment, the only sounds the breeze, the birds, and the gentle whoosh of the Mediterranean.

“How long do they wait to do it,” his wife asks mischievously.

Edward threw his hands over his eyes. “Bella!” When he opened them, he saw his wife, one eyebrow cocked, and when they spoke, it was as one:

“Third date.”

They dissolved into laughter.

“His place or hers?” This was Edward.

“His. It’s a mess. He wasn’t expecting to invite her home. His sheets aren’t clean, either.” Carlisle, for his master command of anywhere between two and ten people’s laundry, somehow almost always managed to forget the sheets even with an inhuman memory. Bella’s invocation of one of her father in-law’s few marital imperfections made Edward laugh.

“She doesn’t care,” he added.

Bella shook her head. “She’s kinda charmed, really.”

“They move in together very quickly.”

“But they don’t get married for a long time.”

Edward nodded. “Until he’s in residency.”

His wife smiled. Then she mischievously leaned into his side, putting her lips at his ear and whispered, “They pull the goalie before the wedding.”

This made Edward laugh, but it rang true. In this world of events his mother would be thirty, and worried. They would both want to get started as soon as they were sure of their commitment, and neither of them had ever been much for suffering other people’s opinions about what might be proper. He listened, smiling, as his wife went on.

“They find out the day before and everyone is gushing at the reception about how sappy in love they look. It’s not until she starts showing that they tell everyone why they were so gooey that day.”

Edward smiled shyly, sitting up, dragging his toe in the white sand.

“Boy or girl?”

“Girl,” Bella answered immediately. When he cocked his head and frowned, she smirked and added, “There is no alternate universe in which you are not Rose’s little brother.”

At this, Edward guffawed. But it was true, he knew. When he saw them, in their minds, the shadow-dream family his parents both had, he was always the youngest. Sometimes there were three children, the oldest a boy whom each of them imagined differently—Carlisle imagining caramel hair and brown eyes, and Esme imagining a softened version of Charles, usually, but sometimes a boy with Carlisle’s hair, and blue eyes the exact hue of which she didn’t know and Carlisle didn’t remember. He would have been twenty years younger than Edward, chronologically, yet somehow in all their imaginations he was the oldest—the lost child, the child she ran for, the only person in their family who had ever died.

It weighed so heavily on them. All they had lost, all the things they had won in their stead. They had been so weary a week ago in the morning, when they’d met the rest of the family on the tarmac in Castres. A pandemic year was taking its toll on them both.

The couple who splashed in the waves seemed too young to have experienced all the loss they had. They looked so unburdened, chasing the waves, laughing at each other, catching the sun. As they watched, Esme put Carlisle on her shoulders and he fought until they both fell backward and went under.

Bella squeezed his hand. “Which ones do you think are happier? The imaginary ones or the real ones?”

Edward pressed his lips together. He could see them, in his mind’s eye: the beautiful couple settling comfortably into middle age, the doctor coaching his daughter’s basketball team, the architect leading the pine car derby for her son’s scout troop.

But he could see this couple, too. The joy on their faces as they hugged each of their six children. The way their skin had glowed in the light of absolutely unnecessary birthday candles, a “1”, a “2”, and a “0” on a cake only Renesmee could eat, and in all likelihood wouldn’t. The night before, when they’d watched In the Heights, his daughter fighting sleep as she leaned on her grandfather’s shoulder. How contented Carlisle had looked as he nudged her awake, knowing she considered herself far too old to be carried to bed.

They were old and young. Happy and sad. Yin and yang, like the ancient forces: equal parts the hard amidst the easy, the pain amidst the joy.

“The real ones,” he said, and was rewarded with another squeeze of his hand as his wife smiled.

“I think so, too,” she said.

In the distance, they both watched as Carlisle and Esme disappeared again under the waves.

#Fanfic #my fic #fragment #zero draft #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #edward cullen #carlesme #bella swan #this is as close as you get to me writing edbella enjoy

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descendantofthesparrow · 4 years

Text

Soulmate au! Countdown - Harry Hook x Reader -oneshot

soulmate au idea sent in by Anonymous

Everyone in the world was born with a watch, not on their wrists or anywhere attached to them, just a simple watch that would appear when a new soul was born into the world. Doctors would blink, and suddenly, next to the new babe, was a watch.

A watch that had a set date of years, months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds until the new soul would meet their soulmate, the one destined to love them forever.

Some watches were simple ones, a simple leather band with a plain clock attached to go around their wrist. Some got more…exotic clocks, one person, whose soulmate was an astrologist, watch had planets instead of hands to tell the time.(luckily for the person, who didn’t know how to read the time by looking at planets, there was still a small digital timer in the middle just above the sun) some had intricately carved pocket watches, some had sundials.

Prince Ben’s watch had confused some people, being a pure gold and silver watch, rusted slightly (and unable to be buffed to perfection as so many tried) with a horned dragon decorating the top, the back engraved with thorned vines. It wasn’t till years later, as Ben locked eyes with Mal, the daughter of Maleficent, did the watches ticking stop (small A/N; Ben and Audrey don’t date since they know they aren’t meant to be already. Okay let's get back into it!)

Audrey’s watch hung off a silver necklace, the top cover being diamond-like glass that seemed to shine like magic. Her watch had stopped when she met Chad at only six months old, his rose gold wristwatch stopping at the same time.

Doug's watch, a gorgeous gold-plated pocket watch decorated with heart-shaped red rubies, had stopped when he first locked eyes with Evie, daughter of the Evil Queen, who for a small while had denied that her own watch had stopped ticking, and had only admitted it after she and her friends had proclaimed their decision to turn their backs on their parent's evil ways.

Most people your age had met their soulmate already, you knew some who had yet to meet theirs but mostly everyone had already been found.

Not that you personally knew that.

You hardly talked to anyone really, so how were you to know if someone had found their soulmate yet or not.

You were just a regular person in a school of the descendants of heroes and royalty, a loner at that. The only interesting about you was your watch.

It was a gorgeous gold watch with thin black paint under the gold curved detailing that looked like waves, surrounding the outer rim of the cover, with an anchor and a ship's steering wheel in the middle of the cover, the back was a carved compass, the entire thing connected to a strong bronze chain.

You admired it every day, excitement and anxiety running through you as every second passed. And those feelings were amplified recently.

The clock now read seven days, seven hours, eight minutes, and forty seconds. It was only that until you met your soulmate.

You only hoped they wouldn’t think you weren’t worth their time…as everyone else did.

Harry had been born with a pretty plain-looking pocket watch, smooth and silver metal protecting the gears.

You could imagine the surprise he felt when he finally opened it for the first time. The inner works of his watch were beautiful, the silver metal had turned to gold, curving details surrounded the hands and timer, a shining scale texture covered the inside of the cover, never leaving a residue on his finger when he traced it.

Many villain kids were told to never open their watches, being told that it was pointless to even look since they would never need their soulmate in the first place.

Some obeyed, some, like Harry, had gotten too curious and looked anyway, and some just looked because they could.

And Harry couldn't say he regretted looking, every day he grabbed his watch and popped it open, smiling as the ticking hands signified the ever-coming day of meeting his soulmate.

Like now, it read seven days, five hours, three minutes, and seven seconds. Coincidently, it matched the same day he would be going to Auradon prep, seven months after king Ben had invited the original four to Auradon.

His closest friend, Uma, had a plan to get the wand and do what the original four couldn’t. but Harry had another plan.

He wanted to meet his soulmate, he knew they couldn’t have been on the isle, he had met basically everyone on the isle, there was no other explanation than for his soulmate to be in Auradon.

He looked up from his watch to gaze at the bright lights of Auradon, his breath visible as he let out a sigh and leaned against the rails of the lost revenge. “you ready for next week?” he suppressed a flinch as Uma suddenly appeared next to him, joining him to look at Auradon.

“aye” he simply muttered back, clenching his pocket watch in his hand. He looked away slightly as Uma turned towards him, her brow quirked.

“…you want to find them, don’t you?” Uma asked, turning back to Auradon and resting her chin in her hand.

Harry stayed silent.

Uma reached out and squeezed Harry's shoulder “I won't stop you from doing that, I know our parents told us that soulmates are bullshit but I could give less of a fuck, if you decide not to go through with everything because of them, I’ll leave you two alone…” Harry sighed in slight relief and turned to Uma.

“even if it would ruin yer plans?” Harry asked softly, laughing as Uma grumbled a bit.

“yeah yeah…if you’re happy im happy” Harry tossed his arm over Uma’s shoulder and pulled her into his side, grinning as she quietly complained at the hug.

“Thank yeh Uma” he whispered, closing his eyes as Uma sighed against him and hugged him back.

“you’re my best friend Harry, I would do anything for you” Harry smiled against her hair, squeezing her shoulder a bit before letting her go as she started to bat at his chest “Alright alright that’s enough, come on we got night shit to do” Harry snorted and shook his head a bit, grabbing his hat from the milk crate next to him and flipping it on, whistling slightly as he followed Uma off the ship.

You looked up from your summer history essay as a group of girls rushed up to the window, giggling to themselves as they pointed out whatever it was they were talking about.

‘oh right’ you mentally sighed, closing your book and packing it away, knowing that the study hall you were in was going to be filled with the laughter of these girls for who knows how long ‘the new vks’

You spared a glance back at the girls, sighing wistfully to yourself as they smiled amongst each other.

What you would give to have friends like that, but you had always been closed in on yourself and always froze up when someone tried to talk to you, that you had never gotten the chance to make friends.

You shrugged your bag over your shoulder and walked out of the study hall “where to go now” you whispered to yourself, taking out your pocket watch and smiling slightly at it, rubbing your thumb against the wheel before popping it open.

Six hours, forty-five minutes, and seven seconds.

You would meet your soulmate today.

You closed the watch and held it against your chest, letting out a giggly sigh and walking towards the other end of the dorms to get to the other study hall so you would write your essay in peace.

Behind you, you heard king Ben talking, taking a glance back you saw a flash of a scarlet red coat pass by the entrance to the hallway you had just entered. You brushed it off and looked back in front of you.

One and a half hours, ten minutes, and forty seconds.

Harry stared anxiously at his watch, his foot tapping rapidly against the floor of his new room. “you know if you just sit and stare at that thing it's not going to go any faster” Gil offered, setting his new laptop down and sitting next to Harry, reaching out to close the watch.

Harry blinked back into reality, pouting at Gil slightly. Gil just gave him a look and pushed the watch towards Harry's chest “sitting in here won't help you find them either, go explore or something, you might find them easier” Harry huffed and grabbed his watch, sticking it in his pocket and walking out of the room “you’ll thank me later!”

You groaned a bit as you rolled your shoulders, you had finished your essay, along with a handful of other projects, and had decided you needed a break. So it was off to your “secret” spot near the dorms, it was well hidden by the forest and you had to cross a hanging bridge to get to it so hardly anyone knew about it.

You shrugged off your top and pants, kicking off your shoes and setting everything next to your towel and watch before diving in.

Underneath the water your body shimmered, your legs turning to a transitioning (f/c) and (f/c) tail with a strong fabric-like tail, scales the same color as your tail appeared next to your eyes and trailed down your cheeks, your shoulders being covered as well.

You let out a soft sigh as you swam through the clear water, trailing your fingers across the smooth rocks that lay at the bottom of the lake.

You picked up a particularly shiny clear and black one, swimming back up to the surface and examining it, humming to yourself as you waded through the water.

-There once was a ship that put to sea/ And the name of that ship was the Billy o' Tea/ The winds blew hard, her bow dipped down/ Blow my bully boys blow-

You started to sing one of your favorite sea shanties aloud, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift across the surface of the lake as your voice echoed around you.

- Soon may the Wellerman come/ To bring us sugar and tea and rum/ One day, when the tonguing' is done/ We'll take our leave and go-

Harry sighed quietly as he walked around the grounds of Auradon prep, tubbing his thumb against the smooth metal of his watch as the comforting -tick tock- of its gears rang in his ears.

He sighed again as he stopped in the middle of a pathway, running his hand through his messy hair. He pulled out the watch and quirked his brow.

three minutes, forty seconds.

Suddenly something caught his attention, he turned his head towards the forest, his lips separating as a lovely drifted towards him.

He started walking towards it, entering into the forest and pushing past the bushes that covered the main path. He quickly walked over the hanging bridge that led him directly to a sparkly crystal-clear lake.

And wading in the water of that lake was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen or heard.

- No line was cut, no whale was freed/ An' the captain's mind was not on greed/ But he belonged to the Whaleman's creed/ She took that ship in tow -

As he walked closer to the mermaid, he didn’t notice the timer on the watch tick down to the seconds.

3…2...1.

Suddenly the mermaid looked up from their rock and gasped, her glowing (e/c) eyes locking with his ocean blue.

The ticking stopped.

The mermaid squealed in embarrassment and ducked under the water, Harry quickly snapped out of his stupor and ran towards the edge of the lake, kneeling at it and looking around for the mermaid who had suddenly disappeared. “where did yeh go?” he whispered, yelping and falling back on his butt as the mermaid suddenly popped up in front of his face and tried to reach for her items behind Harry.

He watched her struggle to reach toward them before she groaned and flopped on the ground, her top half lying pitifully on the dry ground as her tail angrily hit the surface of the water.

Harry let out a soft chuckle and looked behind him, spotting a gold pocket watch resting just next to a (f/c) towel, he glanced back at the mermaid for a moment before reaching out for the watch and gently handing it to the mermaid.

She quickly popped it open and gasped.

Harry watched as the mermaid just stared at her watch, then slowly look up at him. He took out his watch and popped it open, stopping as he realized the clock had stopped.

00:00:00:00:00:00 blinked rapidly

Harry looked back at the mermaid and turned his watch towards her. She reached out slightly, looking at him for permission to take it.

He pushed it into her hand and she set it next to her watch, a smile growing on her face as the blinking of the timers synchronized perfectly. Only soulmate watches could sync perfectly as they did.

She looked back up at Harry with a wide grin, Harry's heart fluttering like crazy as she did.

“I found you” she whispered in the most melodic voice, squeaking a bit as Harry stood and started to strip out of his clothes “what are you doing?!” she yelled, pushing off the edge and diving down under the water a bit, only her eyes and the top of her head above the water.

“joinin’ yeh,” Harry responded simply, kicking off his shoes and pants and tossing them aside with his shirt, jacket, and belts.

Once he was down to just his underwear, he jumped into the water next to his soulmate, closing his eyes as he sank into the surprisingly deep lake.

Almost immediately after he jumped in, arms wrapped around his waist and kept him afloat. Harry cracked open his eyes to see the glowing ones of his soulmate, their pupils slanted as they stared back at him.

Harry let a smile grow on his lips as he and his soulmate floated under the water. Then Harry's body proceeded to realize he was underwater and that he needed air.

His soulmate watched him look up, realize what he was doing, and grabbed his face. Harry looked at them and let out a muffled squeak as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

He snapped his eyes shut and felt his face burn with a blush as she licked his lips and opened his mouth, breathing into him.

She pulled back and giggled, which oddly wasn’t muffled. Harry opened one of his eyes and pouted slightly as his soulmate covered her mouth with one of her hands as she laughed at his expression.

He took a breath to say something, but then realized he was breathing underwater. He gave her a wide-eyed look and she giggled again.

“mermaid kisses can let the person breath and speak underwater” her voice purred, grabbing his hands and pulling him up to the surface. Harry shook his head, smirking as his soulmate squealed a bit as the water droplets hit her.

“I’m Harry” Harry spoke first, swimming slightly closer to his soulmate and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek “Harry Hook.”

“(y-y/n) (l/n)” she squeaked slightly, Harry smirking at the heat that burned against his lips as he pressed another kiss to her cheek.

“I think” he pulled back and pressed a kiss to her other cheek “you and I are going to get along very well~” he purred, grinning as (y/n) set her forehead against his.

“whys that?” she hummed, pushing her lips together as Harry tightly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him.

“a pirate and a mermaid? What's a better match than tha’?”

-end-

Short but sweet, might do another one of the suggestions! Thanks for reading!

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#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #soulmate au #countdown timer #watch that counts down till you meet your soulmate

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