#I have a curse and its called not taking the easy route with character faces shout out to owl shes probably even worse at a glance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

floraltypes · 3 years

Text

Owe Me a Coffee

who - gibbs x reader

tw - mentions of sex, fires, blood, beatings, death

an - I took french for two years, but I’m not fluent and had to use a translating app so I hope it isn’t too bad ! Request something as well, I finally got them working :)

uneditied :/

“Damn you DiNozzo,” You cursed, staring at the man and moving your hand to smack him up besides the head.

You couldn’t help but think back to this morning, getting stuck with the annoying, cocky, flirty, obnoxious, co-worker. Doing a undercover mission with him definitely wasn’t your first choice, you’d rather do paperwork at this point.

“Huh?” You looked at Gibbs like he had just said a alien had landed down at the NCIS building asking for you. “You want me with Tony?”

“Yeah, did I say it in some other language? You and DiNozzo are going undercover, found a marine’s wife dead, along with her killers. Abby was able to access their computers and found out they were doing hit man work, and the director wants us to locate their boss. But since the two are dead now, we need some people to go undercover, you two,” He reminded you, reading the case the five of you were all taking on now.

“Oh, ho, ho!” Tony laughed, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him. “Looks like little Y/n finally gets a chance with the Tony master.”

“Tony master? Is that another cocky Tony name to make him feel better about himself?” Ziva wondered.

“It’s what my last babe called me, the master, so why not add Tony in front of it?” He smiled, getting smacked in the back of the head by Gibbs.

“You’ll be undercover, not as yourselves. So, refrain from the names DiNozzo.”

“Got it boss!” He exclaimed, shooting you a wink before you turned back to your computer.

“L/n, Elevator, now.” Gibbs commanded, and you quickly stood up to follow after him.

“Do you ever wonder who Gibbs is getting it with?” David asked, standing beside DiNozzo and McGee as they watched you and Gibbs enter the elevator.

“It’s ‘getting it on with’ and yes, I think we all do.” Tony corrected her. “But I doubt he is, because if he was, he might be happier.”

“Well, just because you go to school, it doesn’t make you smart. A perfect example is you, Tony,” David turned towards the man with a smile and pinched his cheek, Tony slapping the hand away.

“I actually get some, doubt Probie has ever had any.”

“Well, I actually-“

“If you have to say ‘actually’ while talking about sex it’s probably a lie. So, probie, just dream out your fantasies without getting them mixed up with real life,” DiNozzo smirked, smacking his back while moving to his own computer.

You were on the elevator, looking at your boss who clicked the ‘Emergency Stop’ button, causing the transportation to pause its route.

“Yeah, Gibbs?” You leaned onto the back of the elevator, a small smile playing out on your lips as you smiled at the man.

“I’m putting you on because I need someone convincing. So, put on your acting skills and make it work,” He mentioned, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, yeah. I took drama for two years in high school just for this moment,” You joked. “You’re going to owe me a nice, creamed, coffee because of this.”

“And if I don’t? Right now, I’m your boss, I can’t be your boyfriend.”

“Good to know, boss.” You moved in front of him and unlocked the button. “I’ll keep that in mind for my acting, I just hope you don’t mind, boss,” The doors soon opened and you exited, walking into Abby’s area.

“Ah Gibbs! L/n! What do I owe this pleasure?” Abby greeted, taking a large sip of her drink.

“Are you running the prints on the gun found by the female hit man?” Gibbs asked as you took a seat on one of Abby’s chairs.

“Of course!” Abby hopped up and moved over to her machine, pointing to it, showcasing that it was running. “Working on it right now. But, I don’t think you’ll find much luck with it considering it was the same gun used to kill the commanders wife.”

“Well, we don’t know that for sure, so work on that. L/n,”

“But I want to chat with my dear friend before moving on,” You whined, while he shot you a stern look in return. “I’m going,” You quickly stood up, following the man out.

“I want you to go upstairs and get ready with DiNozzo,” He demanded and you just nodded.

“Right. On my way!” You yelled, running to the elevator. “I’m thrilled for this, but even more thrilled to finish this mission and go on a date,”

“Have fun with that.”

“I will! Hopefully Palmer will as well,” The elevator doors shut and Gibbs continued to make his way down to the Autopsy room to speak with Ducky. Now, not to thrilled at the mans assistant.

You arrived back upstairs, looking at the agent who had his feet on his desk and talking on the phone.

“Who is he chatting with? Gibbs wants us ready,” You commented, moving by Ziva and McGee who were watching him.

“Some girl, someone named Louis,” McGee answered.

“That sounds like a older woman’s name,” Ziva added.

“Yeah. Hey, McGee,” The man looked up from where he was watching DiNozzo and turned to face you. “Remember when you gave me food poisoning, and felt so bad you promised you give me a favor. Well, I want to turn that in now,” You smiled at him, writing down a note on a piece of paper and handing it to him.

“What are you up to?” Ziva asked as McGee left the two of you, heading to his own computer.

“Having some fun with a certain co worker who is going to ruin my night,” You got up from Ziva and moved over to DiNozzo. “Who are you chatting with?”

“A babe,” He mouthed, smiling as you could hear the little rambles on the phone.

“Gibbs wants you ready to go in twenty. And I know it takes you thirty to just do your hair, so, maybe you should cut the phone call.”

He put his hand to cover the speaker on the phone, taking his legs off the desk, and leaving in closer to you. “And you need forty to suck in that gut,”

You laughed, reaching over to grab the phone and putting it to you ear. “Tony! I got you your superhero costume, sweetie! We can now go and dress up together, but not in those tighty whities,” You voiced into the phone, slamming it down and looking at his stunned face. “Never comment on a woman’s weight, now, get ready for tonight because I’m not easy to please.”

The man mocked you for a moment and then left his desk, you turning to look back at Ziva.

“Impressive,” She complimented, walking by you and patting your shoulder.

“Thanks, I’m just starting,” You smiled at the girl, grabbing your gun and sticking your knife into the pocket inside your custom made boots.

You soon got yourself ready in a nice short, red dress that fit your body well enough that you were comfortable, and able to hide a knife around your thigh area.

“Ready yet Y/n?” DiNozzo knocked on the door, fixing his tie and suit.

“Wow Tony, you do know how to clean up,” Ziva commented, coming up behind him, in front of the restroom door, with McGee.

“Thank you, Ziva,”

“Well, besides the tag sticking out in the back. Are you really that cheap? I thought you took, uh, pride in your choice of clothing,”

“I don’t see the point on wearing something very expensive to a undercover date,” He told her back.

“You also missed a spot when shaving,” McGee pointed out, pointing to the far right side of Tony’s face.

“Shut it Probie. At least I didn’t need mommy to help me shave in highschool,”

“Abby told you about that?”

“Well, now she did,”

You opened the door and flattened your dress, then fixing a ring on your pointer finger and smiled at the three other special agents.

“Tony, didn’t you need your mom to help you do your laundry in highschool? Not one to speak,”

“You look well. Didn’t know you were even able to-” You whipped out your knife from underneath your dress and pointed it at the man. “You look stunning, great, nice.”

“Looks like you’re on a thin glacier, Tony,” Ziva laughed.

“I think it’s thin ice,” McGee corrected.

“Same thing!” Ziva threw her hands in the air. “Y/n, I didn’t know you had those moves,”

“Yeah, not a lot of people do. I like to hold some secrets with the team, and my past career is one of them,” You smiled.

“Let’s go,” Tony gripped your hand and intertwined it with his. “My love,” He gritted through his teeth.

“Not too convincing DiNozzo,” Gibbs walked over, smacking the back of his head. “You don’t treat a lady like that. Grip the hand like this,” He smoothly let his hand move its way to yours and he gently connected it with yours. “Even McGee knows this,” He smiled at you and let your hand go.

“I-I know how to do it, boss. Just- nevermind,” He grumbled, loosening his grip.

“I’m starving, care to escort me to the car, Armon?” You got yourself ready to take on your character, smiling at the man besides you with one as if you were really happy with the situation you were in.

“Anything for you, Belle,” The two of you made your way out of the building. Your fellow co-workers watched as the two of you walked away, yet, you were both still messing with each other and hitting while walking out.

“My last wife tend to do that,” Gibbs commented, soon making his way after you two to get into his own undercover van.

“Is that a normal thing for American couples?” Ziva asked McGee.

“Well, I’m not sure. But I have seen plenty of married couples do that, so they’ll fit right in,” He answered, the two then leaving as well.

Once arriving to the hotel, you waited for DiNozzo to open your door and grab your hand to lead you out of the car and into the new building. While clutching your purse and waiting behind a few other guests who were trying to get in, you turned to fix Tony’s glasses and clicked the ‘on’ button.

“Looking swell, honey,” You smiled at him as he placed a arm over your shoulder.

“Thank you. I’m thrilled we were able to get these reservations, dinner should be delicious tonight. You’ll be getting the salad, like normal, correct?” He looked down at you and you stepped on his foot as the line moved forward.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry! I always have the most trouble in heels like these, oh the line, hurry up now!” You voiced, walking into the hotel and following everyone else into the dining area.

“We should look for our names now,” He told you, sneaking up from behind as the two of you searched the tables for little cards with your last names on it. “Bingo! Right next to the Lezarres,”

“Oh and the Garndels are here as well. I’ve heard some things about them,” You added, letting Tony pull out a chair as you took a seat.

The both of you introduced yourself to the other couples and went through the night engaging in some small talk about politics and the food. You and DiNozzo had done a swell job at it and you retreated to the rest room at the end of dinner to hear any new news.

“So, what’s the update?” You asked into the little microphone hidden in your bracelet.

“There’s a hotel room in your name, bought out by your boss and, uh, boss wants you two to stay in there,” McGee told you into the ear piece which was located in your right ear.

“Great, more time with that stupid bastard. He couldn’t shut up about himself at dinner, like always, I’m really contemplating divorce,” You muttered, fixing your lipstick as another woman walked out, moving to wash her hands.

“I know just how you feel, best of luck,” She mentioned before walking out.

“Thanks,” You spoke back to her before turning your attention back to the mirror. “Do we think this boss of mine is going to go after the commander of that wife?”

“Yeah, Gibbs want you to stop him before he does. We have no clue who the boss is but he will be visiting the both of you tonight,”

“Got it,”

“Y/n!” Gibbs spoke now into the earpiece on the other end.

“Yeah?”

“If he got the hotel room, expect it to be bugged. So, you better act,”

“No worries. I’ve had to act in the bedroom before, and past boyfriends sure believed it,” You walked out of the bathroom and stood next to Tony. “Hun, my feet are killing me. I think it’s time we head to the hotel room and rest,” Tony nodded and stood up from his seat. The both of you said a goodbye to the couple and got your key from the front desk, soon getting into the elevator.

“So, a hotel room? Really want to sleep with me tonight, huh?” Tony laughed to himself as you positioned yourself in front of him and kissed his cheek, soon moving your lips closer to his ear.

“Room could be bugged, even the elevator, time to act,” You whispered, pulling back and placing a small kiss on his lips.

“Oh dear, if you really want me no need to ask,” He moved a arm around your waist, pulling you into his side a bit.

“The bags should already be in the room,” You smirked at him, and were soon at your level, the both of you getting off the elevator.

Once getting into your room you took off your heels and placed your bracelet on the table.

“I’m going to take a shower, care to join?” You commented, moving to the bathroom and starting the shower.

“It would be my pleasure,” He walked into the bathroom and started to unzip his pants.

“Babe, be patient,” You slapped his shoulder. “Turn around now, you know how self conscious I am,”

“That’s why I warned you not to eat that cake at dinner, my piece too,” He grumbled, turning around and lifting up his shirt as you took off your clothes and stepped into the shower.

“It was just so good! Being the loving, husband you are, I knew you wouldn’t mind,”

“Yeah, anything for you,” He stepped into the shower while your arms were trying to cover your breasts and vaginal area.

“Don’t look, just act,” You quietly scolded. “And try to cover your, uh,” You subtly moved a finger to point in the downwards direction and he quickly moved his hands there.

“Need another hand to help cover yours?” He joked, moving a little closer.

“I’ll kill you,” You mumbled. “Oh! Armon!” You moaned, Tony sending a sly smile and grunting. “You look like you’re enjoying this,”

“Might want to cover up that breast a little better,” He removed one hand to point at your left one.

“Damn it,” You did just that and reached for a towel which was on the toilet lid. “Ah, soap in the eye,” You voiced louder, just in case the man was listening and skeptical about it. You turned around from Tony and wrapped it around your chest area, then moving both hands to block your other.

“You really think they’re listening to us in here?”

“A good boss would. Especially if he is in this type of business.”

“I hate to know about some of your previous bosses,”

“Oh! Right there! Right there!” You yelled. “Yeah, you would. Most of them are dead though, so you won’t have to worry about that,”

“Old age, huh? What’s with old men being bosses anyways?”

“One was, but that’s not how he died. Man was a perve, had it coming,” You shrugged.

“You killed him?!”

“No, no. Not for that reason,” Tony’s mouth dropped. “Ah!” You yelled loudly, then making your breaths sound loud. “Gosh you are one messy man, good thing we did this in the water,” You smirked at DiNozzo who just mocked you.

“And you still are the easiest to ge-”

“I’m getting out now, you should too,” You removed the towel and let it drop to the floor of the shower, covering your breasts and looking for a robe, soon wrapping it around you.

While leaving the bathroom to grab your shirt and pants you heard the phone in the room start to ring and quickly rushed to it.

“Hello, Belle,” The man on the other line spoke into the phone. You could just imagine what he looked like, some rich guy with a cigar in his hand wanting some job done.

“Bonjour Monsieur,” You spoke, grateful that your mother had taught you french when you were young. “C’est qui je pense?”

(Hello, sir. Is this who I think it is?)

“Oui. Retrouvez-moi dans le salon. À neuf heures,”

(Yes. Meet me down in the lounge area. At nine o’clock.)

“D’accord. Au revoir,”

(Okay. Goodbye)

You placed the phone down, and grabbed your clothes, quickly changing into them as Tony emerged from the bathroom with his wet hair clinging to his forehead and a new, comfortable outfit on.

“Who was that, dear?” He asked, sneaking over by you.

“Un ami,” You smiled at him, tapping his nose.

“Uh, yeah,” He nodded, clearly not understanding and you just tried to stifle a laugh. “You know, grandpa, uh, Gibbs, he wants us to figure out when we should have dinner with him,”

“Ah. How about we go over for a breakfast at nine. He just got his living room refinished not too long ago, correct?”

“Sounds good. And never call me a grandpa again, DiNozzo,” Gibbs spoke into both of your earpieces.

“It’s almost nine already. I should go and ask for a extra pillow, sweetie. Get the bed ready for us, can you?” You grabbed your hotel key and put on your special boots. “No need to dress so fancy for getting something so simple,”

“DiNozzo, go with her,” Gibbs commanded. “David and McGee are heading to the lounge area now,”

“You sure you don’t want me to come with?” DiNozzo asked you.

“I’ll be fine. It’s a silly little pillow, nothing too much,” You kissed his cheek and quickly left the room. While walking down the hallway to the elevator, you took a quick look around to make sure you weren’t being followed.

Once waiting for the elevator, you fixed your boots a bit and entered when the doors opened. There was no one inside, so you pressed the ‘1st level’ button. When getting near the ‘2nd level’ the elevator stopped, indicating someone was going to get on.

It was a staff member in their normal uniform. He smiled at you with blankets in his hand and entered.

“Puis-je vous aider avec quoi que ce soit, mademoiselle?” He questioned, pulling out a gun from his side and opened the elevator door once again for two new men to appear.

(Can I help you with anything, miss?)

“Oui. En me alissa the vivre,” You told him, one of the man entering the elevator and pulling you out, the man in the staff uniform having his gun pointed at you.

(Yes. By letting me live.)

“Tsk. Ne peut faire. Vous souvenez-vous de moi?”

(No can do. Do you remember me?)

“Vous n’avez pas l’air familier,” You spoke, getting dragged down the hallway as someone reached into your ear and broke the earpiece.

(You don’t look familiar.)

“Enough of this french,” The man who was dragging you sneered. “I want to hear this bitch speak,”

“Fine,” The one in the staff uniform sighed. “I don’t think you’re the person we’re looking for. It’s a shame you think we were that stupid to not know what our employees look like,”

“You’re just so intelligent,” You commented, getting kicked in the back of the leg.

“I was speaking. You really played it off, the whole sex thing. But it’s a shame you won’t have anymore time with him, he won’t get his little pillow. At least I won’t have to worry about the real couple anymore, they knew too much and I couldn’t let that get out. All I have to do is deal with you,”

“That will be harder than you think,” You told him, the grip on your arm tightening.

“I’m always a fan of having some fun,”

“They’re going to find the bullet your men used to kill the couple. You knew we were here since the beginning,”

“Correct,” One of the men opened the door and you were led in. “With you posing as the couple, you were able to gain a connection with the couples you were seated with. That way, we could then swoop in and learn more about them, giving us the opportunity to hack into their phone and get the passwords needed,”

“You’re stupid to tell me this. I could’ve figured it out on my own, my team probably already has,” One man then put you in a chair and started to tie you up, the one in the staff uniform kicking you in the gut so you fell backwards.

“Lift her up again. I want to have my fun before she must go, I hope you don’t mind the heat,” The second man lifted your chair up and a few more punches were landed on your body.

“Tu es une racaille,” You mumbled, trying to move your arm in the tight ropes.

(You’re scum.)

“Let’s go,” The head man told the other two. One of them grabbed a gas can nearby and started to pour it on the bedsheets. The head man grabbed a match from his pocket and lit it, throwing it on the bed for the flames to begin. “Au revoir,”

They left the room and you struggled to try and move one arm.

Meanwhile DiNozzo was in the elevator with his gun in pocket, going down to the lounge area.

“Y/n can’t hear us anymore,” DiNozzo voiced into his microphone. “Did she make it to the lounge?”

“No. Damn it DiNozzo, I told you to stay with her,” Gibbs spoke, looking at DiNozzo once the elevator door opened. “David, Mcgee, take the back entrance me and DiNozzo will take the front and head up,” He demanded.

Everyone split up. Ziva and McGee ran to the back to catch two men rushing out. They quickly aimed their guns at them and announced their presence, only to receive some shots at them.

Ziva was able to shoot down on of the men and the other surrendered, McGee cuffing the one and letting a police who arrived take care of them.

“We didn’t call for backup,” McGee muttered to Ziva.

“Yeah, uh, someone called into 911 about a fire,” The police pointed to a window on the hotel building. “People should be evacuating the building now, firefighters are on their way,”

McGee’s mouth dropped as he stared at Ziva.

“How odd it happened tonight,” Ziva mumbled.

“It’s obviously intentional!” McGee exclaimed.

“I know that. I hope those guys don’t die,”

DiNozzo and Gibbs started to rush up the stairs, they could feel a bit of the heat from the room and were able to catch the man in the staff uniform in the stairway.

“Sir, are you alright?” DiNozzo stopped, grabbing onto his shoulders softly. “NCIS,”

“I’m fine, just startled, I need to get out of here,” He waved his hands and tried to slip away from DiNozzo’s grip.

“DiNozzo, that’s him,” Gibbs quickly told the agent who soon put the mans hands behind his back. “Where’s our agent?”

“She won’t make it, a fire like that, no one would,” He smiled and DiNozzo led him down the stairs.

Gibbs continued to rush up them, into the hallway that was catching more and more on fire.

“L/n! L/n!” He yelled, looking around to try and find your figure.

He saw you emerge into the hallway, bloodied and bruised, some of your shirt on fire, and a knife in your hand. He rushed to your side, letting you lean on him.

“Y/n, can you hear me?” He asked and you shook your head a little, letting him fully help you down the stairs and out of the building.

He guided you to the ambulance who tended to most of your wounds, but you refused to be transferred to a hospital.

“You need to go,” McGee tried to convince you, standing by your side.

“It would probably be for the best,” David chimed in.

“Hopefully, they can fix your hair too,” Tony laughed, looking you up and down.

“Damn you, DiNozzo,” You stood and smacked the back of his head, while he just laughed.

“Go home you three, I’ll make sure Y/n gets home alright,” Gibbs came over, waving the three agents off who spared a small goodbye or hand wave. “You ready to go, idiot.”

“I almost died, and you’re calling me a idiot,” You chuckled a little. “Help me to your car?” You asked and he let you lean on him once again.

Once the both of you were in the car it was a very quiet ride. You didn’t talk to each other, just letting silence from the long day overtake each other. He truly was nervous for your safety, thought the two of you hadn’t been dating long he felt a lot of compassion regarding you and wanted to continue your relationship smoothly.

“I really was worried. I told you not to go alone, you should’ve let DiNozzo go with you,” He finally spoke, once you were both in his driveway, sitting in the car, in the dark.

“I’m alive. Just got kicked around a bit, I’m super grateful I always carry that knife in my boot,” You softly told him. “Don’t worry about me too much, I may be younger than you, but I have experience.”

“I know that, just don’t be so stupid last time and take the help.”

“Fine,” Gibbs got out of his seat and moved around to your door, grabbing your hand and helping you out of the car. He smiled at the factor of how easily you trusted him to care for you. “I didn’t doubt you would get me for a minute.”

“Good, you should know that.”

“Only because you still owe me a date, and I did say I would let you pick this one out,” You looked up at him with a goofy grin. It amazed him that even with being beaten up a bit, and almost dying in a fire, you could make jokes with him.

“I say we have the little date here,” He leaned down a bit to place a gentle kiss upon your lips, smirking into it a little bit, and then moving the way you were leaning on him so he would be able to pick you up.

“Someone’s excited.”

“Let’s watch a nice movie on the couch. I bought some creamer, so, I can make that creamed coffee you wanted because now I’m your boyfriend but still pissed you made a stupid and life threatening decision in there,”

“Good enough. Palmer will have to wait. Poor kid,” You commented as Gibbs lead you to the couch and helped you rest on it, soon moving to his kitchen to start brewing a pot of coffee.

“That idiot will be fine.”

“Yeah, luckily for him, though I won’t be able to atend, I do have a friend that will,” You smiled to yourself, imagining how that would be going right now.

While you lied on the couch with your boyfriend who was, secretly, doting on you, giving you his undivided attention. DiNozzo was at a bar, chatting with someone while looking around for them.

“She said she would be at this booth,” DiNozzo whispered to himself, wallking to the booth in the corner for where they shall meet. “God, she looked so good in her profile picture, I’m so- Palmer?!”

“Tony?” He looked up from his seat. “You’re Y/n’s friend? I guess I didn’t specify the gender, and she didn’t say a specific name.”

“Y/n? She’s not that good at compute- Damn, probie.”

#leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #gibbs x y/n #gibbs x you #ncis fandom #ncis fanfiction #ncis x reader #ncis fic

335 notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 4 years

Text

The Fox Wedding - Prologue II

Summary: You are to marry the fox spirit Kita Shinsuke after you accidentally agreed to become his wife by signing the deed to your new home. A contract is a contract, he says, but is there more to this marriage than you know? Will you be whisked away by one of the foxy twins instead, or have to marry Kita after all? Can you be with a creature that only seems tender on the surface, or will you try to run even if it might cost you your life? Choose your route carefully, you never know what these foxes are up to!

Characters: Kitsune!Kita Shinsuke, Kitsune!Miya Atsumu, Kitsune!Miya Osamu, Kitsune!Suna Rintarou, afab!Reader

Rating: Explicit Warnings for this chapter: Yandere, Kidnapping, Forced/Unhealthy Relationship, Cursing

“I think…” Atsumu spoke out loud, having watched the spectacle for a while now. His eyes were fixated on the door to the underground bunker, and a smile played around his lips as he watched Kita leaving, together with Suna, who stood guard for the longest time. From their place on top of one of the half torn-down rooftops of the abandoned village, Atsumu could overview everything, even the celebrations held in the main hall, lights, and laughter reaching his twitching ears even through the magically restored sliding doors.

“You think…?” Osamu yawned next to him, not bothering with bringing a hand to his mouth, still unused to the human customs they were forced to uphold. He, at least, didn’t like it, though Osamu still was better in trying to conform to them than his twin.

“I think I want her.”

If not for the cicadas around them, silence fell over the brothers as the wind was the only other thing rustling through the grasses below their feet. “Crazy. You’re simply crazy.”

“Just think about it!” Atsumu was quick to snap back, turning to his twin as if he needed to convince him for a plan he had already decided to go through with anyway. “Are you really happy here? Happy with their customs, their orders?”

“They took us in, ‘Tsumu. They fed us and healed our wounds after you went batshit crazy trying to fight that Tengu. You can’t just take the Clan Leader’s future bride as you want.”

Again, silence as Atsumu thought about it. Not long enough to make his brother believe he actually thought about it, but he pretended well. “Okay,” Atsumu ‘gave in’, nodding. Osamu sighed, knowing his brother felt no remorse or fault about what happened, and he never had any intentions to stay in the village anyway. “Have you seen her?” Atsumu whispered, eyes looking up to the moon, full and clear on the horizon.

“Briefly, why?” Leaning back, Osamu picked at his teeth with his little finger as he followed Atsumu’s gaze to the stars. Sitting here definitely was better than partying downstairs. Maybe at first, he had liked being in a community, but Osamu too felt the dread of having to bow your head to basically strangers, even if the two had been adopted into the fox family whose protection they were now under.

“She’s beautiful,” Atsumu sighed lovestruck, bopping his feet up and down excitedly. All Osamu could focus on was Atsumu’s tail wagging like a common dog, happy to see its owner. For someone as sharp and cunning as Atsumu, he truly was a fool. Even more so, a fool in love now. Annoyed, he reached for the telling limb, gripping it tightly and making Atsumu yap in surprise before throwing Osamu an angry glare. The latter merely stuck out his tongue, which riled up Atsumu even more.

“At least take a good look at her then!” he hissed, standing up and pulling his tail out of his brother’s grip. “‘Tsumu, wait,” Osamu called after him, sitting up on the rooftop as his twin left. Atsumu briefly turned to look up at him, as he was already off the roof, his gaze determined. He always knew what he wanted, and that was a trait Osamu both admired and despised on him. “You can’t face her like that. You’re so ugly.”

Hair stood up as on his neck as Atsumu furiously stomped away, screaming, “WE LOOK THE SAME, YOU BASTARD!”

With a chuckle to himself, Osamu followed casually, wanting to see how this was going to end. He couldn’t let his twin have all the fun alone either.

You could pace your cell, and you could cry, but this time, there was no one listening in to your woes. Even if you kept rattling the bars, pleaded with them to yield, nothing happened when you touched them. Kita had made it look so easy, but there was something else going on; you just knew it. Magic, that’s what it was. How pathetic you felt, knowing that not even a guard at the entrance was waiting anymore since they didn’t expect you to get out on your own.

Wondering what time it was, something in you finally gave up. Perhaps it was exhaustion, or maybe just indifference about the situation now, but you were too tired to keep on fighting your problem. Your mind felt like some kind of slideshow, but it kept showing you the same thoughts over and over. It was trying to construct something that was out of your hands, tried to give you answers for everything. But as thankful as you felt to yourself for trying, its efforts were in vain.

There were no gaps to fill out, at least not on your own.

“Look at her! Damn it, ‘Samu, get your ass over here!” you heard from above the window, and god, for the first time, you felt annoyance as you did not want to deal with this. Whoever was speaking probably was just here to mock you again, and you simply couldn’t deal with this now.

Once you decided to give up your endeavors of getting out and complaining, you had settled in the furthest corner of the cell. The one that seemed the least… unappealing to you from what you could see. But now, you stood up, angry that gawkers were leering into your window just to have some fun. Nudging the previously thrown over chair - you weren’t proud, but frustration had overcome you - back to the window, you took a deep sigh before stepping up on it. You tried to look strong, hoping it would seem like you were and scare off whoever was there, but inwardly, you couldn’t help but fear what could be awaiting you.

“If you’re not helping, then leave--!”

The words got caught in your throat as you didn’t expect two piercing pairs of eyes looking right back the moment you appeared in the window. It seemed to have caught them off-guard as well, and for a split second, they flinched away, halting their movements like animals determining if they should move or be quiet.

“Woah,” the blonde fox spirit gasped, inching closer immediately. With a short, hesitance glance to the former, the second one came closer, however, not as close as the other. A respectful distance, how you found, he seemed reasonable in your eyes. Only now you noticed that they looked eerily similar, almost like twins if there was such a thing under spirits. “You’re so pretty!”

The comment was now catching you off-guard, and you leaned back in surprise, almost losing your balance on the chair if you weren’t holding on to the window bars. “Oi, stop scaring her! Get back, ‘Tsumu!” the more reasonable twin instructed, though only when he gripped his brother’s shoulder tightly did he react. Up until then, he merely stayed absolutely still, only his eyes following every movement that you did, no matter how minor it was.

“Eeh,” he mumbled. “Sorry to scare you.”

That didn’t sound like he meant it at all.

“You should be nicer. She’s the future wife of the Clan Leader,” the grey-haired brother muttered, reprimanding his brother who seemed unfazed while he watched you. In fact, by now, he had laid down in the grass, pushing it down. This was taking on casual picnic vibes instead of your imprisonment, and you didn’t know how to feel about that.

“I’m not… I don’t want to…” you stuttered, biting your lip as you felt the tears return to your eyes, though you doubt you had any water left in your body to lose more. “I just want to leave,” you whispered, looking down helplessly, knowing they wouldn’t help you either.

“You made her cry, you Dunce,” one of the two whispered softly, and you heard an upset, “Ouch!” follow the snip of a finger.

“Who’re you calling a dunce, you… Idiot!”

There was the soft sound of a scuffle, and you looked up at the brother’s watching them trying to hit each other while also blocking the oncoming hits at the same time. As stupid as it was, you couldn’t help a small laugh falling from your lips about how bizarre and absurd this situation was, but it made both of their ears peak up out of their hair.

“That’s better. You’re cute when you laugh,” the blonde one sighed happily, his lips curling into a smile too. “Now, do you want to get out?” he added straight away, causing his brother to give him a look that was saying, “What are you even talking about?”

“C-Can you?!” you squeaked in surprise, instantly clearing your throat and lowering your voice again. Even if the spark of hope was ever so little, it was quick to ignite in you, rattling your senses to think about all the sudden possibilities. Even if those two were the same as Kita, if they could let you out, you’d take your chance with them. “I mean- yes. Please let me out immediately! I can’t stay here, I can’t become that… person’s wife! So, please--!”

However, before you could finish your sentence, your eyes caught onto something that spread behind the two, something that could be best described as fire, though you had never seen it in these colors. A mix between blue and green, flaming up in balls and twirling through the air. By now, the two had noticed it too, their body language changing as they tensed up, getting to their knees quickly.

“And… what are you two doing?”

Oh, this voice you knew, and instantly, all the hope you mustered to create inside of you, vanished.

Out of the fire, unfazed by its usual quality of burning someone, Kita emerged. Also, another man - or fox - stuck his head out from behind him. You hadn’t seen him around, but while everyone’s eyes were intense, his seemed to be the most fox-like and uncomfortable to you, always reminding you that you weren’t dealing with humans. “We were--” the grey-haired brother glanced at his twin who searched for words, eventually filling in for him, “--greeting...”

“Yes! Greeting her!”

“I see. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Kita’s eyes fell on you, and you made a point to look away and sigh, wiping the tears from your face. You’d not entertain him with your attention, you decided. Missing the deflated expression he made, all you heard was a soft snort coming from one of the people outside your window. “Why don’t you all go back to the party?” Kita demanded, even if it was spoken like a question. Hearing the ruffling of clothes as the twins stood up immediately, you sent one last desperate glance at the blonde one. To your surprise, he looked back, giving you a short, unnoticeable nod before turning and leaving with his brother.

“Idiot…” you heard his brother scold him.

“Idiot, yourself!” he yapped back.

“You’re both idiots,” the unknown man exclaimed with a sigh as he followed them, sending you a quick glance over his shoulders too before leaving you behind with Kita.

“[Name],” you suddenly heard from next to you as you were too focused on looking after the three to notice Kita having kneeled down, peering right at you. If it bothered him that you jumped, having totally forgotten about him, he didn’t let it notice you from his expression. Instead, with his hand flat on the ground, he cowered down to properly look you in the eyes on your height. This gesture seemed unlikely for a ‘man’ of his stand, yet it wasn’t the first one he surprised you with.

“Did the two of them say anything unnecessary to you?”

“If they did, I sure as hell wouldn’t snitch it to you,” you hissed back, and he closed his eyes for a moment, which you could only interpret as him dismissing your choice of words.

“Very well then.”

Raising from the ground again swiftly, Kita’s movements stroke you as odd, impractical despite being elegant. It just gave you another warning that you were dealing with something that was hard to believe. “Wait,” you called out to him, unsure why you even raised your voice. Maybe you still hoped for answers, or to reason with him, and now was as good as any moment. But his ears perked up, and he laid his head to the side, waiting for you to talk patiently.

“When can I leave? It’s dark and cold in here… I don’t want to be here.”

For unbearable long seconds, he merely looked at you, and it stirred up the fear in you that he might say, “Never.” The time he thought things over was something you couldn’t get used to.

“Not too long anymore, don’t worry,” was his answer, vague and dismissive. “I suggest you don’t talk to anyone anymore until the ceremony.”

Sighing, you shook your head, one leg already off the chair, and you looked after it as you decided to end this conversation on your terms instead of having him walk off on you again. “Can’t make me…” you mumbled. It wasn’t like you wanted to challenge him, but to be fair, at that moment, you also forgot that he could hear you, even if you softened your voice.

“Yet,” you heard him hiss right at you, making your head snap back outside, seeing his wide-opened eyes staring at you with only the bars separating the two of you. This time, you did lose your balance from the shock and surprise, the chair wobbling below you as you lost your halt, your body plummeting to the cold, hard ground with a groan and a whine. Your hips and lower back were aching from the shock, but when you looked back to the window with tears in your eyes, Kita was gone.

And with him, he took all the hope you had, leaving you behind in the despair of anticipation.

CHOOSE YOUR FATE

➤ Marry Kita

➤ Run away with Atsumu

➤ Rely on Osamu’s care

➤ RUN

We recommend reading the routes first before proceeding with the last option.

290 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 4 years

Text

Bring Me To Life

Summary: Kang Sujin has never had anyone to turn to, hiding behind a façade her entire life. Someone begins to peek behind the mask.

Author’s note: My two favorite characters in TB are Seojun and Sujin, both characters who are honestly treated like trash by the writers. I cannot begin to tell how upsetting it was to see Sujin’s character assassination or how painful it is to watch her being physically abused knowing that the writers will not give her therapy or a true happy ending. She’s just here to be beaten and vilified. Seojun, I won’t even rant everyone knows what the problem is (idk who told them we wanted to see Start-Up the high school edition.) So I wrote this after watching the most recent episode and hating most of it for these reasons. I don’t know how far it’ll go or how often I can update, but I need my two babies to have a happy ending preferably together because the visuals are just a dreammmm.

The rain crashes down loudly from aggrieved storm clouds bellowing above her in the sky, the chilled condensation plastering her thin satin pajamas to her trembling body. She had to get out, the pain in her cheek numbing and electrifying all at once.

How dare she tell him that she didn't want to get married, want to stand on her own two feet without a man giving her value?

His hand had flown across the room before she could sidestep the blow, the fragile glass filled with water in her hand- the very reason she'd left her room in the dead of night- shattering into jagged pieces as it collided with a greater force. Just like her.

She hadn't been trying to eavesdrop but it was hard not to hear him chuckling deeply on the phone, offering up his only child like she was an item on a menu.

"Yes we should set them up. It seems Suho isn't interested and she should marry young, that's when women are worth the most."

Nausea rolled like waves in the pits of her stomach and before she could think logically, her feet were sprinting into the living room, air barely filling her lungs as she stared at the man she'd never once thought of as a father. The last time she'd made the grave mistake of calling him daddy he'd smacked her so hard that was how she lost her first tooth. He'd been father ever since or Mr. Kang. She tried her best to avoid him at all cost, she would never be good enough and it was getting harder to hide the marks he left behind.

It was difficult to remember clearly what occurred seconds after her refusal to marry a man she didn't know left her lips, his fist connected and she was knocked back onto their coffee table the sharp edge cutting at her cheek. As she looked at him, anger painting his face a demonic red, fear crippled her and her hands twitched desperately wanting to wash them raw. Then he grabbed a thick marble ashtray from the table and her instincts took over and she was out the door, running as fast as she could, knowing her life was at stake and she couldn't afford to stop.

When the cloud in her head cleared that was when she found herself at the bus stop.

Judgmental whispers breeze by her ears as people passed by with umbrellas, shocked to see the young girl crying in her pajamas at the stop, but none stopped to offer her help or inquire about her situation, happy just to pass judgement. She ignores them all, panicking racing through her blood until she's unable to breathe, choking on nothing as she twitches in the harsh air. Her throat constricts as she screams at herself, breathe.

Breathe.

BREATHE!

But it's useless as her body shuts down, forgetting how to do the basic function, she sways as she starts to feel light headed from the lack of oxygen and with a final wheeze she collapses.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He signs as he weaves past cars moving far too slowly, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he marginally misses nipping a car to the left of him, easily dragging his motorcycle away with the fluid movements of his body. He glares up at the sky before cursing, "Fucking weather report didn't say anything about a sudden rainstorm." If he'd known he would have stayed home, always hating the rain. It brought back bad memories.

Halting at a red light, he puts his leg down for balance bouncing slightly in place. Pulling the shield up on his helmet he glances around, recognizing the area easily, before something in his peripheral catches his attention, a lump on the ground. Tilting his head he revs his trusty iron steed to live, riding over to the direction of the mysterious mass on the wet ground. As he gets closer his heart falters, it's too evident now.

It's a person.

Jumping off his bike and pushing out the kickstand he flings his helmet off, his hair immediately drenched under the downpour as he races over to help. As he nears the figure, it becomes clearer it's a woman wearing what looks like sleep clothes. Momentarily he wonders if this is a crazy person and if he should just mind his business but a frightening image of his little sister unconscious on the ground and no one coming to her aid flashes in his mind.

"I'll just check if she's breathing and call an ambulance. That's all, if she tries to attack me I'll just ride away." He takes a deep breath, collecting his courage before closing the gap between him and the unconscious woman.

Crouching beside her, he reaches out a hand hesitating before sighing and shaking at her cold shoulder. No response. He shakes harder now, watching the motion quake through her entire body, but still she is unresponsive.

"Hey! Hey! Are you okay? Wake up, you're scaring me!" He starts to jiggle her with both hands, before he crawls into her space not caring about his safety any longer, the idea that this unknown woman might be dead is making him nauseous. People are always dying without his permission. It's so frustrating.

"Wake up! Come on!" He shouts at the figure now holding both her shoulders and turning the woman over, lifting her face from its place on the ground, cradling her limp body in his lap. After two more vicious shakes, she starts to cough and groan in his arms. Relief swims through his veins as he watches her come back to life, anxiously watching as her dewy long lashes flutter open and he's caught in a lifeless deep gaze.

"Han Seo-Jun?"

It takes a long pause for him to register that the woman has said his name and then a longer moment to recognize who she is.

"Kang Su-Jin?" He replies in genuine shock, taking in the wom--young girl in his arms. She's shivering so violently that it's becoming difficult to hold onto her, vibrating out of his hold before he grips her tighter, whipping off his jacket without second thought and wrapping it around her. Goosebumps raising on his skin as his body mentally berates his lack of survival skills.

"What are you doing here?" She looks at him bewildered as if the stranger occurrence is his presence and not her own.

He squints his eyes looking back at her, "I could ask you the same thing. I found you unconscious here. I thought you were...." He trails off unable to utter the rest of his sentence.

"You should have left me here. Maybe I would have. If I was that lucky."

"What? Are you crazy, you want to die? Did you do this to yourself, what are you on?!" He roars at her, rage flooding his system as he shouts at the stupid girl, how dare she try to kill herself and leave her body for him to find? He wishes he had taken a different route, that he'd never come across her. He was in no state to comfort someone who was suicidal, still too raw and hurt. What was so hard about living that made people want to do that? Hot tears gather in his eyes as he abruptly pulls away from Sujin, unapologetic as she tumbles to the ground without his support.

She starts at him, stunned before righteous fury twists her features and she roars back at him.

"Who are you to judge me! I didn't ask you to help me, leave me alone!"

He glares back at her ready to yank his jacket away and run away from her but a small movement stops him, as she's screaming at him a small muscle twitches in her cheek bringing his attention to said cheek. It's nearly purple, standing out obscenely on her pale skin and then he notices the split lip and the bruises on her neck and he's so ashamed of himself he could bawl.

He deflates before speaking to her, "What happened to your face? Who did this to you?"

He doesn't know what kind of look he has on his face but before his questions can even settle between them she's sneering and twisting away from him, throwing his jacket on the ground before making her escape. Unprepared for her sudden departure he reacts too late, before chasing after her. It's easy to close the distance separating them with his long legs and within seconds she's merely inches in front of him, he reaches out a large hand to grab her wrist but hesitates recalling the bruises littering her frame. Instead he races past her, blocking her with his body swerving to the left and then the right when she tries to dodge him. They play this cat and mouse game before she finally gives up, glaring up at him with moist enraged eyes.

"Why do you care? We aren't even friends!"

Her piercing shout rings in his ears as he looks down at her passively. He can't answer that question, doesn't know what brought him to this area so late and not understanding why he was the one to find her in this condition. He doesn't know why he cares. But maybe things could have been different if Se-Yeon had someone to chase him. Maybe he'd still be alive...

So he answers her honestly.

"I don't want anymore people to die."

To his complete shock she starts to cry, tears falling rapidly from her eyes before she crumples to the ground, the rain pounding on her head and he stands still unsure of what to do before he drapes the jacket he'd rescued from the ground over her head, shielding her from most of the thunderous downpour. When she looks up to see the jacket protecting her, he almost falls backwards as her head slams into his chest, her tears simmering hot on his chilled body. It's almost painfully uncomfortable but he doesn't move away. Letting her cry on his chest, his shirt is soaked anyway this makes no difference.

He doesn't know how long they are crouched there on the ground, so dark that the sidewalk is completely devoid of anyone else, it feels like they are the only two people left on Earth.

"If we stay here you're going to get a cold."

He voices his concern but the only reply he receives is a gross sounding sniffle and he grimaces, knowing that his poor shirt is probably damaged beyond repair covered in snot and tears.

Sighing he starts to repeat himself before she whispers, "I don't have anywhere to go."

"I can take you home." Her fists tighten in his drenched shirt, he can practically feel the fear wafting off her, he'd assumed the marks on her face were from a possessive unhinged boyfriend but her reaction makes him uneasy. He tries to push those unpleasant thoughts to the corner.

"What about your friends? Why don't you call Su-ah or Ju-Kyung, I’m sure they’ll help you.”

She stiffens in his arms before shaking her head in decline.

"No. I can't let anyone else see me like this. I don't need them looking at me the way you did, like I'm a sad pitiful puppy. I never want anyone look at me like that again."

He can respect that, he never wants to appear weak in front of others. It was easier to become angry and lash out rather than showing your true heart, nobody could hurt you that way.

"Then what? Where do you want to go?"

"I have nowhere to go. I'll stay here until morning. I'll be fine, you can go."

He looks at her dumbfounded, what kind of man would leave a battered woman alone in the rain? He wasn't raised by animals, damn it.

"Let's go." He makes a point not to touch her, their only point of connection are her hands twisted in his shirt.

"What?"

He bulldozes past her confusion, looking at her with what he hopes are comforting eyes.

"I'm taking you to my house. I can't just leave you here."

"Are you crazy? Don't you live with your mother and sister, what will they say?"

He winces at the logical inquiry, he had already considered that himself, thinking of his mother's subsequent smacks and his sister's teasing once they learned what he'd done but still deciding that he has no other choice. He can't just leave her here.

He shrugs, "That's my problem to worry about. I'm not leaving you here, I'd really like to get out of his rain. Let's go." He repeats himself harder, pleading with her.

She looks away and he's prepared to throw her over his shoulders and face the consequences when he hears her response, "Okay. Let's go."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It's a quiet ride back, the engine rumbling through the aching bones of her frozen body. Han Seojun. The last person she ever expected to see after being roused from her panic induced collapse. Her arms tighten around his thin waist as he swerves around a car, adrenaline and fear battling for dominance in her body. When her fingers accidentally brush across wet bare skin she quickly moves her hands higher, fighting the embarrassment that washes over her.

If he notices she can't hear his reaction over the roar of the motorcycle.

When they finally pull up to a small apartment, she loosens her hold on him cracking her frozen digits.

"You didn't need to hold that tightly, I wasn't going to let anything happen to you. I ride this everyday you know."

She doesn't reply focusing on getting off the bike, swinging her leg over and hopping off not graceful but effective, a small proud smile spreads on her face before she gazes back at him.

He stares back before shaking his head, as if lost in a daze before he stomps off for her to follow.

Wordlessly she trails behind him, feeling foolish in her duck pajamas, a gift from Su-ah.

When he pushes his front door open, letting her in first she steps out of her sopping wet house slippers standing awkwardly looking around.

"Stay here. I'll get towels so we don't trail too much water."

She nods at his command, gazing at the floor and seeing how much water is already pooling around her feet.

"Here." He hands her a fluffy pink towel, she raises an eyebrow at the color.

"It's the guest towel. I wouldn't give you my towel."

That makes sense, sharing towels is far too intimate for the relationship they have. That being none.

She rapidly towels at her hair, before running the towel down her body and wrapping it around her waist.

"You can use the bathroom. It's the second door on the right. I'll bring you dry clothes."

She steps cross the doorway, finally entering his home. Before she turns back to him staring directly into his eyes, "Than.... You didn't have to do this." She loses her confidence but his answering smirk lets her know he understood enough, with that she walks to the bathroom locking herself inside.

The sight of her bruised face in the mirror makes her pause, reaching up to finger at the stark purple mark on her cheek. She's crying before she can control her emotions, tears dripping into the sink as she remembers her night, how close she was to the end despite what she said to Seojun she wanted to live. As her father stood above her ready to snuff her out like a mere nuisance in his life, she realized with a burning passion how desperately she wanted to live.

A soft knock drags her back to reality as she rapidly wipes her tears away.

"I'm leaving clothes by the door. You can come out whenever you're ready. I'm making tea."

When she hears the light steps of his feet moving away from the door she opens the door a crack, picking up the neatly folded pile of clothes. Sending the boy a mental thank you before closing the door quietly.

It's clear that these clothes belong to Seojun, draping off her body, too large for her frame, a black T-shirt with a microphone on the center and sweatpants that cover her feet as well, he'd even remembered to bring her socks. Instantly she feels her body warming as her body temperature returns to normal.

Folding her wet clothes and splashing water on her face then using the towel to rub it dry, she exits the bathroom walking towards the light she sees assuming that's the kitchen.

"The water's almost done boiling. Sit down."

His deep voice greets her as she follows his orders and takes a seat.

"Are these your clothes?"

"What? Oh yeah they're mine, sorry my sister locked her door. They're very old though, I haven't worn them in years I thought they would fit you better." He eyes her as he says the last sentence, "I guess it didn't make much of a difference I'm just too tall and manly for my own good."

She scoffs at his narcissistic comment rolling her eyes "Tall and manly my foot. You're so skinny I could probably pick you up with one arm."

He immediately turns at her comment, affronted look on his face, "Shut up! It's hard for me to put on weight, I'm not that skinny."

He places his hands on his hips, looking down at himself before puffing his chest out to make himself appear broader, it's so ridiculous that she can't control her reaction.

Sudden uncontrollable laughter.

She laughs breathlessly, folding onto her lap trying to contain her giggles but his scandalized look makes her laugh harder and she has to stuff her face in her elbow to prevent herself from waking his family.

After a few minutes of random spasms of laughter she finally peers back up at him.

He looks just like he did outside when she'd smiled after successively getting off his motorcycle.

"What? What are you looking at?"

"Nothing. I just never see you smile at school."

"Well you never do anything worth smiling about." She quips back, wondering if she'd gone too far but he doesn't reply beyond a slight smile that's gone too fast to even be titled that, he places her steaming cup of tea before her sipping at his own after blowing on it.

They drink in comfortable silence.

She's the first to rapture the silence, "I don't need pity."

"I don't pity yo--"

"But thank you. Thank you for stopping. Thank you for this, thank you."

He stares wordlessly before nodding, a slight blush on his cheeks before he hides his face in the cup of tea. She doesn't bring attention to it.

"You can sleep in my room. It's the door next to the bathroom."

Humming she looks up, fatigue hitting her like a brick at the mention of sleeping.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I have a perfectly good couch, don't argue you're sleeping in my room. That's final. It's better that my mother doesn't see a strange woman on the couch when she wakes up."

Well, she can't argue with that logic.

"Okay." Drinking the last of the soothing beverage, she stands up walking over to place the cup in the sink.

"Good night." She starts to walk back in the direction of the bathroom, seeing another door next to it. Seojun's room. Twisting the doorknob she pushes it open, before she hears his voice from behind her.

"If you need anything I'm right outside."

Blinking her tears away, she nods without looking back, too vulnerable with his palpable concern.

When she lays her head down on his pillow, his scent fills her senses and she falls into a deep restless slumber feeling safer than she has in long time.

Tomorrow will be horrible.

But tonight, she will allow herself to breath easy knowing that someone is on her side.

#true beauty #kang sujin #han seojun #sujin deserves better #redemption fic #healing each others wounds #the visuals #true beauty kdrama #slow burn

163 notes · View notes

thesolitarystripe · 3 years

Text

The knights of Lumina were posted outside the main city gate; arming gleaming beneath the hot summer sun. Each one sat atop a night warhorse, varying in color and size but matching in the same obedient stillness. Not a single living being moved within their formation. Every so often, a necessary tail flick to ward off the relentless flies could be seen but otherwise, it was as if the gods had left a magnificent painting as a gift, by the city entrance. At their front was Thomas Grey. Sir Thomas Grey. He was the right hand of the king, protector and personal guard of the kingdom’s princess, and a peasant by birthright. A bastard. It was odd to find one of his lineage within the knighthood and of the highest-ranking position but, his history within Lumina’s royal family spanned from the first year or his life, to now. Twenty-eight years. The young knight rode atop a bright palomino whose coat shown as brightly as the golden stalks of wheat their farmers grew. Its mane was a striking cream color. One dark brown eye, like most equine creatures, and the other an eerie crystalline blue. The mare had been gifted to Thomas as a boy for he too, was crafted uniquely by the gods. Hair as brilliant as the sun, white gold, and eyes as different from one another as night and day. Thomas bore one azure iris and the other a vibrant verdant. It was a rare condition, one seen perhaps between one person every few cities over. Some thought it a blessing, others a curse.

“Sir, dust from the East there,” a voice stated from behind Thomas whose head had turned to take note.

“Our guests have arrived, look sharp men.” Thomas squeezed the belly of his horse, urging her forward. The creature obliged and took Thomas forward with the rest of his men in his wake. Presently there were fifty of them on horseback, only a sliver of the knighthood. They were to greet and escort a small caravan of royalty from the Eastern kingdom of Stalwert. It was an admirable city whose trading routes and exports were undoubtedly some of the best. Lumina’s king sought an alliance by way of marriage. The princess, while not opposed to the arrangement had her reservations—all of which Thomas was acutely aware of. Many did not know his full history, they simply knew that Thomas was a babe dying on the streets when he was found by the royal family during one of the kingdom’s festivals. He was taken in, under what circumstances or pretenses they did not know. Thomas was raised within the castle walls, groomed to be a knight, and fast became the young princess’ most dear and trusted friend.

There had never been thought to anything more. Thomas knew, while his station was admirable, his birthright made him unsuitable for any romantic pursuits when it came to the princess of Lumina. Therefore, the idea never entered his mind though many teased them as children. One was never without the other unless stolen away by their mentors and tutors. It was easy for King Marcus Abraya to assign the young Thomas to be his daughter’s guard, even at the young age of sixteen. Most nights she stole him into her chambers to make her laugh rather than stand guard at her door. They were fast friends. As such, Thomas took today very seriously. He would be this prince’s harshest critic and report any concerns regarding his character to King Abraya himself.

The fleet of knights swarmed the royal caravan, introducing themselves well and offering their protection as they entered the city. The King and Queen of Stalwert greeted him warmly but there was no appearance made by the prince. Offense number one was noted. Thomas led the way back within the city walls, lines of commoners formed all of them trying to gain a look at the potential future king of Lumina. They would see no one. The man kept himself hidden away within his carriage. Only when they were within the sprawling courtyard, just in front of the alabaster castle, did Thomas bring his men to a halt. All of them but Thomas stays on horseback while the blonde dismounted and tended to the royal family. He stood at the carriage door and offered his arm, seeing the Monarchs safely to the ground. It was now, that he beheld the prince. He was of a modest build but clearly untrained in the art of war. The prince was of average height and looked quite small standing beside Thomas who was six feet and six inches more. This prince appeared soft, a man of the arts perhaps with caramel colored hair and deep brown eyes. Thomas would’ve given his honest remarks—the prince was handsome, devilishly but wouldn’t last a day within the ranks of any knighthood Thomas knew of. It wasn’t a prince’s job, however, to wage war with his own hands. Thomas was sure the man was likely a brilliant mind, expert at strategy, and adept at making treaties. Thomas was eager to speak of such topics with him as Lumina got to know their potential ruler over the course of the next few days.

“Prince Robert,” Thomas bowed deeply, the crown of his head exposed. “Might I speak for the knights of Lumina when I say it is a great honor to have you within our kingdom. Please let me know personally if there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable.” Thomas stood upright again and found those dark eyes regarding him.

“Thank you, knight, what may I call you?”

“Sir Thomas Grey, my lord,” he replied, bringing his gaze up to meet the prince’s.

“That is a wild look within your eyes, Sir Grey. A defect at birth?” He pointed between his own two eyes as he observed Thomas more closely.

“Indeed sir, I was born with it.”

“Interesting,” Robert sighed before he turned on his heel. Ending the conversation.

Thomas felt a strange sensation wash over him. Something in his gut churned. The skin on his arms pulled up and away from his bones and he had to stave off his urge to frown. The knight led the royal family within, only to be greeted by King Abraya within the great hall. The three flocked to the King and Thomas stood quietly behind, surmising what it was his gut was telling him. Every move Prince Robert Winsley made, ignited Thomas’ nerves. Distrust was already being sewn within the belly of the knight whose hands were clasped in front of him, face expressionless as he watched the greeting of two kingdoms unfold. Their ruler of Lumina ushered the royal families into the throne room, his knighthood in tow behind him. At the head was Thomas, to his right, Belor, and his left, Edward. The three highest of rank and the ones trusted to enter the throne room and stand guard within. Outside, lower ranking knights took their posts and waited behind closed doors. Thomas took his stand beside the elevated slab of marble that held three ornately decorated thrones. The largest in the middle was made of solid cherrywood, a deep red in color and carved with the Kingdom’s crest: an ivory horse, rearing back on its hind legs, mane whipping behind its muscled neck as if the wind blew against it. The background was black while the sides were embroidered in intricate floral patterns. While there were no other colors, save the natural hue of the wood, the marking was unmistakable on the backing of the king’s throne. There were two others, lesser seats but still beautifully made of strong oak. Within the smaller ones sat their Queen and beside her, the princess. The moment Thomas’ gaze lifted and he met the eyes of his childhood friend, the princess smiled. Her eyes hadn’t yet sought out her suitor before they landed on Thomas who was as reserved as ever but offered a half upturn of his lips. The Knight took his place beside the royal ladies while King Abraya waved a hand grandly through the air and motioned to his kin.

“I am pleased to introduce you to my lovely Queen, Amina, and my daughter.” Both women stood with the grace and poise of a swan, their dresses flowing around their bodies to accentuate every luscious curve and dip. Thomas stood with eyes forward, hands crossed in front of him.

“It’s a pleasure,” they both said in tandem as they curtsied and then sat again. Prince Robert flicked an eye over his potential wife and merely nodded his head. The second offense. Thomas wanted to scowl but kept his expression smooth. The royals fell into conversation as King Abraya brought their company to sit and rest; over his shoulder, Thomas heard a familiar clearing throat. Mismatched eyes found the princess who was already looking incredibly bored; she was obscured by her father’s commanding height so she could not be easily seen. The princess rolled her eyes. Thomas smirked.

He puffed out his cheeks and made an exasperated expression.

The princess smirked and stuck out her tongue.

Thomas’ eyes grew wide as if offended. Then he returned the gesture, tongue poking out of his lips and eyes crossing lightly.

The princess bit her lower lip and dropped her chin, desperate to hide her giggling.

Thomas straightened, happy to know he hadn’t lost his ability to make their princess laugh. Even after all these years. The two exchanged glances across the room, every time Thomas looked, his princess had turned away; as soon as he averted his gaze, she was peeking back at him rosy-cheeked and coy. When their eyes finally did meet, each one couldn’t stop the break of a smile across their faces. Children at heart, surely. Thomas clasped his hand over his wrist more tightly, with more resolve than ever to ensure Robert Stalwert was worthy of Lumina’s princess.

#thesolitarystripe #writing #creative writing #writer #medieval fantasy #OC #Author #writers on tumblr

6 notes · View notes

write-a-bad-romance · 4 years

Text

Holy Woman (Ikevamp Angst Week 2020)

Ao3 link: Here

Prompt: “Character Death” and “Loss”

Words: 2761

Made for Ikevamp Angst Week Day 8 and 9. Tagging @ikevampangstweek.

This work features mild spoilers for Jean’s route and a genderbent (female) version of Jean d’Arc.

dulce et decorum est pro patria mori

In the dark of the night, she ran amidst the clamor of gunshots and shouts far behind her. The blizzard became her cover —she was deaf to the entire world save for the ominous howling of the wind right beside her ears.

Her long silken hair, free from its bindings, trailed like spun silk as she bounded across the snow. With nothing to guide her, not even the hand of God Himself, she escaped into the wasteland.

Like a specter she vanished, abandoning her crown and a condemned history behind her.

"Drat!" Charles cursed, shaking his head as the horse finally breathed its last.

And when I'm so close to the town too! This can't be happening! Last night's blizzard was horrendous; he had to take shelter at the dilapidated empty house, horse and cart, and all. Delivering every crate containing vials of serum in tip-top shape had been his objective.

But there was little he could hope for, not when he had a horse with a broken leg.

"No, no, no." Tears pricked in the corner of his eyes. Years carrying corpses and dying men back and forth on the battlefield made him immune to the sight of mortality. But the combination of fatigue after days on the road and lack of sleep was more than enough to break his already dwindling spirits.

"No," he repeated, slapping himself on both cheeks. "This won't do. Think of the townspeople. They're waiting."

With heavy steps and an even heavier heart, Charles sat by the side of the road. It would take at least five hours to reach his destination on foot. Gears turned inside his exhausted head as he devised a plan: hide the crates inside the house, walk along the road, and see if there are any houses nearby. Walk up to their door, knock, smile and ask them if you can borrow their cart —

And risk leaving the crates unsupervised. Right. No one would have the mind to somehow spirit away crates full of vials of dubious substance, but Charles dreaded losing his precious cargo if that meant another three days' ride to the Medical Center.

What a conundrum! Charles's idle hand grabbed fistfuls of snow, feeling the raw chill bite into his skin. The sensation helped alleviate his fidgety nerves.

Besides, there's no guarantee I'm not going to get caught in another blizzard when running around seeking help. The rose-haired man sighed, scratching at the memento wound around his neck. What should I do now? Stay put and pray for a miracle to come my way?

Back at the battlefield, in the flapping tents where prayers die on the mouth of soldiers reaching to grasp at specters of their beloved, Charles lost his faith in the Almighty. H is more cynical colleagues joked that God had been replaced by the emperor, his enemy monarchs, and whatever whims they impose on us poor, downtrodden common folk.

It wasn't until his mother pestered him that Charles once again re-adopted a habit of praying. Ironic, considering his mother's pragmatism towards their soiled family business. War was capable of moving the smallest of things, it seemed.

Charles realized he had been dozing when he felt something approach. The tremor he felt underneath his feet signaled that it was another cart, most likely heavy duty. The young doctor jumped to his feet, regretting it immediately as he felt himself swoon and nearly losing his balance.

"Excuse me!" He waved at the cart, a figure clad in a dark blue cloak from head to toe at the reins. "Are you in any way passing through the next town?" Charles yelled.

The stranger stopped his cart right in front of Charles, silent. Worried he didn't hear him the first time, Charles composed himself and cleared his throat.

"Will you, by any chance, be passing through the town? The one with a mountain abbey?" He pronounced his words carefully, his heart beating in trepidation as the veiled stranger didn't seem to respond. He could wait for another cart to pass by but damn if he let this chance slip.

The figure nodded, and a deep-toned, feminine voice reverberated through the crisp, winter air.

"I am heading to that town." The woman answered severely. "How may I be of service?"

Charles was perplexed by her manner of speech but approached her nonetheless. "My apologies. I was transporting some cargo on my own cart when the blizzard came, and I had to take shelter in that empty house over there."

The cloaked woman regarded him in silence as Charles struggled to resume his explanation. Did she find him suspicious? Was she to be suspected, herself? Countless scenarios rushed through Charles' restless mind as he motioned vaguely at the dilapidated building.

"And then my horse broke one of its ankles—"

“Your horse?”

Charles was ready to receive whatever tirade the woman was prepared to discharge, judging from her pressing tone. But to his surprise, the woman was already jumping off her cart, the wind knocking back her veil.

Revealing a burn scar mark in the shape of a spark over her right eye, concealed in part by her thick, lavender bangs. It extended across the side of her face and neck, disappearing underneath her collar. Her left eye was hidden under a black eyepatch, revealing a scarce expanse of alabaster skin.

Charles' face grew red as he realized that he was staring. Her dark, empty orb seemed to suggest that she too had noticed. Quickly, Charles apologized.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to stare—" but the woman had already turned towards the house.

"Show me the horse," she commanded.

Swallowing his guilt away, Charles brushed invisible snow off his pants and followed suit. "Right," he coughed. "This way, Madame."

"So, you've met Sister Joanna." Monsieur Faust concluded. He was the town's only doctor, a strapping young man in his late twenties. He had on him shapely, robust shoulders and intelligent eyes behind a pair of square, thin-framed glasses.

The only aspect Charles found disconcerting about his temporary senior was his penchant for sardonic, offhand remarks that seemed to serve as a barrier between him and the vernacular crowd.

"Sister?" Charles exclaimed, having signed the last of the transport papers. "Is she part of the convent?"

"No, not at all." Faust chuckled. "In fact, I believe it's been years since anybody's ever seen her inside the church or taking part in any religious gathering."

Charles recalled how the lean woman helped him move the dead horse out of the barn and buried the horse by a nearby tree. He was still amazed by the woman's astounding demonstration of strength as she loaded the bulky crates onto her own cart.

"It was the nuns who called her that during her stay at the abbey. The nickname carried long after she left," The older man continued. "I was the doctor who treated her when she first arrived a year ago."

Those burn scars, Charles gulped, amethyst eyes still boring into his own long after their parting. "What does she do now?"

"She's the town's handywoman, for lack of a better word." Faust's nimble hands arranged the vials into neat rows inside a cabinet. "She accepts odd jobs every now and then, though you're more likely to see her at the weapons shop by the square. She seemed to have lived quite close to the military at some point."

The man's curious pause before rolling the word military didn't escape Charles. Whether it was said out of genuine disdain for their country's warmongering exploits or twisted sympathy for his own history, he didn't know.

"Other times, especially outside winter, you can find her attending to flower beds just outside of town," Faust muttered. "She would bring back different-colored flowers in vases and deliver them to the flower shop. You'll see what I mean quite soon."

"Flowers? The military?" Charles was at a loss for words as the man slew exposition after exposition in rapid succession. And he had pegged him to be the quiet sort! "I take it she must have been living quite illustriously before she came to town."

"That she is," The other man nodded. "Quite the character, isn't she? Sister Joanna does what she likes, regardless of what others see."

Charles decided to take a stroll after lunch. Now that he's done resting and arranging his belongings at the inn, it was time to explore the rustic town.

The innkeeper was an amiable man with ivory hair and crimson eyes, not much older than Faust. The flower shop the doctor mentioned was adjacent to the inn's lobby, and the owner of both establishments introduced himself as Vlad. Not Vladimir, not Vladislav, just Vlad.

Charles detected something beyond mere eccentricity beneath the man's lighthearted disposition. There was a noble air to him that made Charles suspect Vlad was related to one of the hussar princes the Continental army overthrew seven years ago.

The man responded to Charles' prodding joke with a subtly accented, good-humored reply. "I hail from Targoviste! But now that you mention it, my family is descended from a long line of voivodes from the Middle Ages . "

Charles decided not to pry further lest he be turned to fertilizer for the pansies at the inn's backyard.

His feet took him to the town square, where Sister Joanna's weapons shop supposedly was if he remembered correctly.

In the center was a sizable statue of a peasant woman, her arm cradling a bundle of wheat to her bosom. The other arm was reaching towards the sky, a long strip of sash winding around the limb like a vine. Charles found it so lifelike it could've been fluttering along with the icy wind.

Sister Joanna was standing by the base. Her slacks visible below her dark robes and sinewy stature made it easy to confuse her with a man. Charles walked towards the lone woman, intending to thank her.

“Sister Joanna!” He called excitedly. “Sister Joann—”

Charles fell quiet as he observed the woman pressing her hands firmly pressed together in front of her breast, long fingers pointing towards the statue in silent prayer.

It took a moment before she finally turned to look at Charles. The young man noticed a bundle of freshly picked snowdrops and hellebore resting at the statue's foot.

Charles found himself speechless as he was once again met with Sister Joanna's hollow gaze.

"Yes?" Her dry voice penetrated the once-welcome stillness. "Do you need anything?"

It wasn't that Charles was unaccustomed to make small talk with women. It was Sister Joanna's mannerism that had put the younger man at unease. He collected himself and knelt down, paying heed to spare her some distance.

"I think I should pray, too." He smiled, hoping to reduce the tension. "But I don't have any flowers on me. Too bad."

"Do as you see fit." The woman replied impassively.

Charles' heart regained its composed pace after he offered hushed words of prayer for the souls of his fallen comrades. He rose and beamed at the indomitable woman, whom he caught staring.

Sister Joanna wasn't the least bit unfazed when Charles's youthful face broke into a grin. "Do you know who you're even praying for?"

His eyes returned to inspect the statue, the granite matron towering over the strange couple. "This statue was built in honor of the fallen soldiers and their widows, was it not?"

Sister Joanna didn't respond, seemingly absorbed in the statue's presence as well.

"The Emperor marched through these passes on the way to claim his first victory. Thousands of the men died in the expedition, and they were laid to rest by the abbey."

Charles stepped forward to run his palm over the statue's nameplate.

"The Weeping Widow," He read. "The woman's statue was meant to stand for the widows and lovers of the fallen men, waiting somewhere at the other side of the country. I can't imagine what it feels like to have someone come knocking on your door and tell you that the man you love is dead."

Ignoring Sister Joanna's lack of commentary, Charles continued. "This statue was built with the hopes that no more widows would have to share that fate. That's a beautiful thought."

"How did you come to know all this?" she finally interrupted.

"My uncle took part in the expedition. He lost an arm after the battle and was recuperating in this town when they built the statue." Charles recounted heartily. "It is sweet and proper to die for one's own country, he’d say to his nephews and grandchildren. He kept boasting about wanting to follow his friends to heaven. Or hell."

"It is sweet and fitting to die for the homeland is a more precise translation," The elder corrected. "They keep omitting the following lines:

sed dulcius pro patria vivere,

et dulcissimum pro patria bibere.

Ergo, bibamus pro salute patriae.

'A reasonable translation would be but sweeter still to live for the homeland, and sweetest yet to drink for the homeland. So, let us drink to the health of the homeland." She recited, her sonorous voice unwavering. "Why choose to die at the behest of unconcerned rulers when you can return to a loving home and family?"

Charles was taken aback by the mistress's sudden erudite lecture, almost sharp in its delivery.

"Forgive me," Charles blushed in embarrassment. He'd been correct —Sister Joanna was as enigmatic as her appearance, if not more.

“To die for one's own country. The Emperor's beloved quote." Sister Joanna murmured. "A flowery epigram befitting an equally deranged man."

"I beg your pardon?"

Two years after the Emperor's death, all of the Continent remained in discord after his abdication and subsequent death. There were demands of his generals' execution after they failed to have the ruler beheaded himself.

In some parts of the country, statues in his image were toppled, and his estates were raided. Angry mobs and disillusioned former soldiers banded together to hunt down possible adherents to the old, 'warmongering' regime.

The recalcitrant woman stood tall against the backdrop of a secluded, provincial town hidden among mountains. Maybe there was a truth to Faust's words about her past dealings with the military.

Speak no ill of the dead doesn't apply to warlords and rulers, it seemed. Joanna sighed. "I can't imagine anyone deigning to pray for his poor soul."

His family, Charles dreaded to say. Whatever was left of the royal family were chased to the shores, some immediately captured as they attempted to land in the Isles.

Their encounter had taken quite the morbid turn. Yet it didn't deter Charles from wanting to know more about the woman standing by his side. The young doctor felt small, figuratively and literally, considering his shoulder didn't quite reach hers.

"I should return." Sister Joanna announced. "The sun is setting."

She was heading to the weapons shop, no doubt. Charles nearly forgot his reason for wanting to approach her in the first place.

"Wait!" He called, "I forgot to thank you for your help!"

"What?"

Charles panted as he struggled to match Sister Joanna's pace. Not only does she act like a soldier, she even walks like one!

"I haven't thanked you enough for this morning." He considered extending his hand but refrained, remembering that in proper circumstances, she would be the one extending her hand.

"I don't think I've introduced myself properly, have I? My name is Charles. Charles Henri-Sanson." He flashed her what he thought was his most bedazzling smile. "I might be staying here for the next four months or so,"

Sister Joanna regarded him with mild interest. "I see." She nodded. "Nice to have your acquaintance. I presume the doctor has told you plenty about me, considering you called me by name."

"He did!" Charles answered, not missing a beat. "He told me many things about you."

"Did he, now?"

The pair continued to make their way towards the edge of the square, Charles continuing to engage her with a barrage of questions, and Sister Joanna placating his curiosity with lukewarm zeal.

It didn't take long before they arrived at the entrance to the shop.

Sister Joanna uncovered her cowl and faced Charles. The entirety of her charred visage was now visible, unobscured by the midnight-colored fabric.

"You're a strange man," she observed. "Are you not revolted by the sight of my face?"

"Madame, I used to serve as a doctor until the last days of the war," He chuckled in earnest. "Before I was captured by the Coalition and became a prisoner.”

To be continued in Part 2.’

Special thanks to @batteryrose for her doodles of Jean with burn scars all over his body.

#ikevam jean #ikevam charles #ikevam vlad #ikevam faust #ikevamp angst week #ikevam fanfic #riri tries ikevam

34 notes · View notes

elvish-sky · 4 years

Note

Aragorn and Taniara [an elf] (That's what my sister calls herself. Lol.)

Hmmm... maybe Taniara is Elrond's youngest daughter and she sneaks away from Imladris to go with the Fellowship. She could meet up with them in The Golden Woods? Um... and Legolas explains to her that the pain she had felt was her fear of Elessar not returning to her...? And maybe a time skip to when Elessar gets crowned King of Gondor?

Is this what you mean by "ask"?

A.N: So this was an insert request and uses someone’s name but I’ll be posting a completely x reader version for everyone else. I hope this is what you wanted, and I’m wishing your sister a very happy birthday! I hope she likes it!

Requested by @ask-the-elf-stuff on Tumblr

Pairing: Aragorn x Character Insert (Taniara) {Not an OC! I’m also posting a full x reader version for everyone else!}

Word Count: 1,790

Warnings: Kissing, fluff, the smallest bit of angst.

****

Hope {Aragorn x Taniara}

“You’re really leaving?” You gazed into Aragorn’s eyes, hoping that it wasn’t true.

“I have to, Taniara. The fate of Middle-Earth depends on it.”

Your head dipped in understanding, but also sadness.

“Do not fear. I will return.” He cupped your chin with his hand, tilting your head and kissing you. It was a light kiss, nothing like the others you had shared before. This kiss was the hope that you’d see each other again.

Breaking away, you forced a smile as you hugged him, trying not to cry. Stepping back, you waved as he followed the rest of the newly formed Fellowship through the gates of Imladris. Your father stood next to you, and as Aragorn passed through the gates Elrond drew you into his side.

“He’ll be back, hína (child),” Elrond said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you rested your head on your father’s shoulder as you watched the man depart.

Weeks later, you were pacing your room, determined to do something. Arwen stopped short in the doorway as she saw you pack open on your bed as you shoved things inside.

“Taniara? What are you doing?”

“I do not know why, but I have felt a pull to follow. An ache, almost painful in its strength, has settled inside me and so I knew I must follow. We have not heard from the Fellowship in weeks, Aragorn could be hurt, or someone else could be, or he could be,” your voice broke, “dead.

The elf nodded in understanding. “The ache is telling you to be with the one you love.”

She then clasped your hand. “Taniara. Look at me.”

You looked at her, unshed tears of worry clear in your eyes.

“If he was dead, you’d feel it. And I know as your sister I should be telling you not to go, but I cannot help but notice the pain you’ve been in these last weeks. So go, find him.” She spread a map out onto a small table nearby, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you just carry that everywhere?”

She shot you a look, and you quickly clammed up, peering over her shoulder as she pointed things out.

“After crossing the mountains visit our grandmother in Lothlorien, the Fellowship had planned to pass through there, and she will know where they are.”

You took it all in, remembering the route to Lothlorien from visits to your grandparents you had made before your mother went west.

“Thank you, Arwen.” You smiled up at your sister.

She clasped your wrist before pulling away, placing her hands on your shoulders as she looked into your eyes. “Stay safe, Taniara.”

You nodded, shoving the last things into your pack before slinging it over your shoulders with your bow and quiver, daggers sheathed on your thighs, hugging your sister one last time before leaving your room.

You strode down the hallway, dressed in leather hunting clothes as you made your way to the gates of Imladris. You had stopped by the kitchens to gather food supplies, making sure they thought you were only going for a hunting excursion.

Entering the courtyard, you saw your father standing in the center, clearly waiting for you. Silently cursing Arwen, as you had hoped to slip away unnoticed, you made your way over to him.

“I should not let you do this.”

You frowned at his words, drawing breath to protest, but before you could Elrond spoke again.

“But you are free to go. I feel the ache and have felt it every day since your mother departed. I know that nothing but being with the one you love can ease that pain, and it would hurt me to know you are experiencing it. Go to Estel. I give you my blessing.”

You hugged your father before turning and mounting your horse, brought from the stables. Turning to wave to your father one last time, you leaned down to whisper, “Let’s go, Daeroc. Let’s go find Aragorn.” The horse broke into a trot, and you left Imladris behind.

Weeks later, you led Daeroc into Lothlorien, waiting for the sentries to appear. One dropped down from a tree, and you smiled at him, recognizing the face.

“Haldir,” you greeted him with a smile.

“Taniara. It is good to see you again. I assume you are here to see the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn?”

You nodded, “Yes. I have not seen my grandparents in a long time. But before we go to them could you find someone to take care of Daeroc?”

Another elf came into view, nodding to you as she took the reins from your hands.

“Thank you,” you smiled at her.

Later, you walked into the courtyard, bowing to your grandparents standing on the stairs above.

“Taniara, my daughter’s daughter. What brings you here?” Galadriel smiled at you, descending the stairs with her husband to greet you, each clasping your wrist.

“To see you, of course, and seek news of the Fellowship that I assume has passed through here.”

Your grandmother smiled. “It seems you are in luck, for they are here as we speak.”

Your eyes widened. “But they should have been long gone by now. I wonder what has caused the delay?”

Celeborn’s face softened. “Then you do not know.”

“Know what?” You were beginning to grow quite worried. “What has happened?”

“They could not make it through the pass of Caradhras, so they turned and went through Moria, costing them the life of Mithrandir.”

You gasped, heart aching at the grief that must have caused them and the grief you now felt.

“May I see them?” All you wanted now was to see your friends and the man you loved.

“Of course.” Galadriel beckoned you to follow her, and you did, softly conversing with your grandmother and updating her on the lives of her family in Imladris, as well as others she knew.

Stepping into the clearing, you turned to thank Galadriel, watching her fade from view behind you for a moment before continuing.

There he was. Tall and handsome still, even grimy with dirt and dust from his travels. You debated casually walking up and greeting him more sedately, but watching him you just couldn’t hold back. All your elvish instincts left you, and you sprinted towards him, leaping into his shocked arms as kissing him for all you were worth. He kissed you back for a moment, and then pulled away, the surprise on his face clear.

“Taniara! What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you.”

His eyes widened. “You did?”

You smiled at him. “Of course I did, meleth.”

He smiled back at you, and drew you in for another kiss, hands holding you up as your legs wrapped around his waist. Deepening the kiss, he moved so your back was pressed against a tree and his hands were free to slide up your back, tangling in your hair as you lost yourselves in each other.

Sometime later, you sat with the rest of the Fellowship after the nighttime meal, talking. It was good to see them again, you had grown fond of all of them, even the dwarf, during their time in Imladris. But of course, the only person you really had eyes for that night was Aragorn, who sat next to you with an arm around your shoulders.

Legolas had seemed puzzled with how comfortable you were with affection, it was rather un elf-like. You had explained to him that because of your father’s past, he was slightly more affectionate than a normal elf, and showed it. You hadn’t missed the wistful look on Legolas’ face as you spoke and recalled what you knew of his family, feeling sorry for him.

Later that night, you sat by the dying embers of the fire alongside Legolas. Aragorn had gone with the hobbits to wash up, and Boromir and Gimli were sleeping, so it was just you and the elf.

“Legolas?” The older elf looked at you.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, and you continued, “I was just wondering, do you know of something like an ache? It began right after the Fellowship departed Imladris, and only subsided when I arrived here. What does it mean?”

He smiled. “Taniara. That was the bond between your soul and Aragorn’s, pulled taught with your fear of losing him. Now that you are reunited, it has gone because you are together. It is every elf’s greatest dream and worst fear to have that feeling.”

You smiled. “Have you?”

The pain in his eyes told you that maybe that was not something to be asked of others.

“I am not sure if it is in my destiny to ever feel that.” He gazed into the distance.

The two of you sat in easy silence for a long time, after that.

“Taniara.” You turned to see Aragorn beckoning to you, and with a nod to Legolas, you rose.

“You do not have to come with us. It will be a journey of great peril, and I do not want to put you in that much danger.”

You gazed at him earnestly, “Aragorn. I shall be there when the crown is finally placed on your head. I shall be with you until the end.”

He smiled at you again and clasped your hand as you walked through the towering trees.

You had left Lothlorien the day after with the Fellowship, having officially joined up. Lots had happened after that, including almost dying with most of Middle-Earth, but months later, all was finally well. Frodo and Sam had destroyed the ring in Mordor, the forces of Mordor had collapsed along with the Black Gate, and today was the coronation of King Elessar, also known as Aragorn.

You watched, standing next to Gimli on the dais, as Gandalf lowered the crown onto Aragorn’s head.

“Now come the days of the King!” Gandalf declared before Aragorn turned to face his kingdom. Everyone cheered as he stood there, silencing quickly as he spoke. His words were wise and sincere, and you couldn’t help but fall in love all over again. As petals began to fall, he started singing, the words quickly fading as he turned to you.

You walked down to meet him at the bottom of the steps, gown trailing behind you. Once you reached him, he grabbed your hand, wrapping an arm around your waist as he dipped you into a spectacular kiss. Unlike the one you had shared in Imladris, this was not a kiss of sadness. This was a kiss of hope, peace, and promise. As the cheers rose around you again you knew that everything you had hoped for had come true.

10 notes · View notes

nooruleman · 4 years

Note

☕ Jab We Met.

*breathes in*

I LOVE YOU SVAIL I LOVE YOU SVAIL I LOVE YOU SVAIL I LOVE YOU SVAIL I LOVE YOU SVAIL I LOVE YOU SVAIL I LOVE YOU SVAIL I LOVE YOU SVAIL I LOVE YOU SVAIL I LOVE YOU SVAIL I LOVE YOU SVAIL I LOVE YOU-

Okie, I'll try not to act like a maniac on your ask. Literature student banne ka attempt karte hein aj.

Also, my literature exam is coming up, so please can y'all criticize how well I do this shit? Let's begin.

Oh wait, before I do, here's the cover, which I adore:

So often a good movie comes along that's exactly my taste, and I love to enjoy it and quote it for years, without realising the gaping holes, that come with them. And if you’ve studied Literature like I am trying to, you know that over-analysis can come more naturally to you than ‘hello.’

Now, I wholeheartedly admit that "Jab We Met" despite how iconic it is, has it's flaws and fuck ups too, but today, I'll only look at the positive side.

There are a number of things I absolutely adore and cherish about this film.

Nalayak, vardi uthake phenk de (Thow away your uniform, you useless man),' she scoffs at the sleepy security guard’s uselessness, and I wish, I was like this.

'Tumhe na uthake museum mein rakhna chahiye, ticket lagna chahiye tumhe dekhne ke liye (You should be kept in a museum and people who want to see you should be charged an entry fee),' Aditya quips in sheer amazement, and I completely agree. Geet is one and only, indeed.

Jab We Met’s biggest strength are its zesty one-liners and quirky interjections, I'd say.

Apart from light-heartedly conveying Geet’s exuberance and Aditya’s exasperation, they lend their free-flowing banter its much-loved bounce and bang, which provides the movie the perfect flair that made it one of Bollywood's most amazing movie.

Nextly, Geet is a picture of wide-eyed optimism taking on a ready-to-elope gusto, live-in-the-moment zeal and chirpy, cartoonish verve, hopping between public transports and offering unsolicited gyaan to unsuspecting strangers.

Upbeat characters become tiresome after a while but Geet’s loony naivete continues to endear everyone, I'd say. And there's no doubt our broody Aditya is charmed by her.

Just like what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, what happens in Ratlam stays in Ratlam too, aka The One where Geet and Aditya rent a room in Hotel Decent.

There’s much to chuckle about the duo’s misadventures en route to Bhatinda, but that one episode of midnight looniness in Ratlam sets the tone for the rest of the movie.

Also, closure is found in the most ingenious ways in Jab We Met.

While Geet talks Aditya into burning his ex’s photo and flushing it down the toilet, Aditya encourages her to call her cad boyfriend and curse the daylights out of him with the choicest expletives.

Endless release. Timeless relief.

Don't kill me, but there’s a Shrek and Donkey vibe to Geet’s artless utterances and Aditya’s disinclination.

But as they advance from travel companions inspiring the best in one another to smiley-faced sweethearts in denial, it’s easy to root for their union.

Imtiaz provides Shahid and Kareena with ample room to express their emotional range. The upshot is absolutely melting. And when they finally kissed, which was very overdue, I must say, it felt heavenly.

Spontaneous demonstrations of self-love show up every now and then. After all 'Main apni favourite hoon (I am my favourite person),' believes Geet.

She’s equally sure of Aditya’s affection for her, too. 'Main tujhe bahut achi lagti hoon na (You really like me, don't you)?' And, oh boy is Aditya's reaction absolutely gold.

Lets not forget, from Mauja hi mauja to Tum se hi, Pritam-Irshad Kami’s eclectic soundtrack doles out a breezy range of bhangra, pop and love duets alongside Sandesh Shandilya’s classical composition Aaoge jab tum for the film's soundtrack.

Bas. Aur serious nahi hoa ja raha.

HOW DID I DO?

And for anyone who read it up till here, bless you, my friend. You have indeed been through a wild ride.

Since I was serious, I had to abstain from gifs, so:

#jab we met has my heart #jab we met

21 notes · View notes

keeponshouting · 3 years

Text

After Infection

This is a rewrite and hopefully eventual completion of a massive multiverse mash-up of my OCs with a couple belonging to @whenromancesmoked and a few others from back in the day. I have absolutely no idea if anyone else is going to be interested in reading this (ok, I know a few people who will probably read it) but psh. I’m having fun and want to share.

Note: This is also a George Romero tribute of sorts. Like I started it for giggles because my PB for one of the characters was in the Dawn of the Dead remake and it just snowballed, which I guess means I should throw a WARNING: ZOMBIES sign up here or something. Anyway!

After Infection: Dawn of the Dead

It had seemed like a good idea at the time – or, well, more accurately, it had seemed like the right thing to do. There was a request from fellow hunters in a small town a few hours’ drive south and things had been quiet lately back home so Nate had figured that they could spare the time and energy. Besides, Dennis had been going pretty stir crazy for a while. Even if it was a hunt, it would be a good excuse to get out on the road for a while, a sort of vacation.

It had not turned out even remotely like a vacation.

They had been a little too late to the original party but apparently just in time for things to get much, much worse. Nate had brought a variety of tools just in case but he had primarily been prepared for an infestation of what locals called “hell rats,” a creature that was pretty common in the south and usually pretty easy to handle if you found their nests quickly enough. Sure they were venomous but as long as you were careful… He had not been expecting an infestation of zombies.

“The lot looks pretty clear right now.” Dennis is hunched over at the door, using the peephole to take a quick survey of the goings on outside their hotel room while Nate brews a second pot of coffee to get him through whatever the morning brings. After all, as long as decent coffee is available, he might as well take advantage of it. Lord knows he might have to go without for a while and God help his poor boyfriend’s patience if that happens.

When Dennis stands up straight again, his head is just about even with the top of the doorframe and he yawns as he leans back against the door, arms crossed over his chest. “So, come up with any plans yet or are we still waiting for the caffeine to kick in?”

Nate snorts into his cup and foregoes actually taking a drink for the moment in order to respond. “You ask that like I have any idea what sort of plan to use here. I’ve met exactly zero hunters who’ve actually had to handle zombies in the past decade at least. I honestly don’t think they’ve ever been a problem this far north before.”

“Well, there sure are a lot around here for something that’s never been a problem.”

“Some forms of infection can spread at an exponential rate in populated areas.” He drains a good half of the coffee in hand. “Our best bet is probably just to find out if there are any other non-infected people anywhere around here.”

Dennis flops across the bed, face down, with a muffled grunt.

Nate just silently continues drinking as the percolator finally finishes beside him and he very seriously considers making a third pot, just in case.

---

Zombies – shambling, groaning, flesh-eating, nearly Hollywood perfect zombies. For fuck’s sake. This should have been such an easy fucking job and now there are zombies.

Viktor strings together another line of curses, voice little more than a low growl, as he chambers another cartridge. Beside him, a terrified little girl whimpers. He simply scowls, sets Glock number one aside, lights a cigarette, and pulls out number two. “Zatraceně zasraný vědci.” Leaning over toward the window, he catches sight of a proper target and empties the last bullet into the back of its skull. What a fucking cliché.

This was supposed to be simple. They had agreed on that fact the moment that the specifications of the job had crossed the table. It should have been routine, easy money. Three towns, three targets, each plan the same; get rid of the scientist, call their employer, and let the clean-up crew come in and deal with the rest. The first two hits had gone off without a hitch. So, of course, it just figures that last one would have to be so much more complicated than it should have been.

“I—I—I w-want m-m-my d-da—daddy.”

Viktor’s jaw clenches as he exhales – slow and even, two thin streams of smoke – as he reloads the gun in hand and wills himself to remain calm. His patience is wearing thin at this point, though. He had not planned for going into this as usual and coming out as a babysitter. The target’s five-year-old daughter was not supposed to be in the house at the time of the hit. She only stayed with him on the weekends. What an absolutely brilliant turn of events that this was apparently the first Monday that she had ever spent with her father.

Dropping his half-smoked cigarette on the floor, he shoves himself up to his feet. He had lost contact with Miguel some time earlier, likely as a result of the scientist’s neighbor backing into an electric pole at full speed after one of the zombies had rushed her car. The impact had cut power to the entire neighborhood and he can only assume that it must be the cause of the interference. With long-range communication down, that leaves only one alternative: he needs to get within the functional range of their radios. Unfortunately, the hit had been planned for the late evening and he had only been able to make it as far as a vacant apartment building a couple blocks away before night had started to set. From here, short-wave does him about as much good as a water pistol.

“Come on.” Viktor has already reached the door and taken quick stock of the corridor beyond by the time he bothers to look back. Unsurprisingly, his unwanted charge remains unmoved, still curled up as small as she can possibly make herself, which is pretty damned small.

“A-are you g-g-gonna take me b-back to da-daddy?”

God give him strength but that stuttering is getting real old real quick. “Ne.” He swings the door open as quietly as possible and waits for a moment, listening for any movement outside, before carefully stepping out and making his way to the stairwell. With the knowledge that their escape route is currently free of hostiles, he takes a deep, centering breath and heads back to where he began.

“Look, holčička.” He crouches down in front of the child and tries to sound as reasonable as possible. Given his current level of frustration, he thinks that he is doing a fairly decent job. Miguel, however, would likely disagree. “Either you just come with me and go wherever I go, quietly and without complaint, or I leave you here. Your choice.” Yeah, Miguel would definitely disagree.

From the way that the little girl’s eyes go so much wider than he would have ever imagined possible, he feels safe in assuming that she disagrees as well and, five minutes later, they are creeping down an alleyway with more stealth than Viktor ever would have expected of a kindergartener.

---

What was taking so long?

That is the question that had led Alex out of the band’s bus and that was the question that he now wants to keep from crossing anyone else’s minds. This is all way too fucked up, like the should not be real kind of fucked up. None of this should be happening.

On the ground, backed up against the flat tire of the car that their driver had originally gone to help, Alex kicks hard into the jaw of what may have once been a perfectly lovely young woman and sends her sprawling backward where she lands on top of the monster still gnawing on the corpse of a man who should have still been living and breathing and driving their goddamn bus. Alex’s hand gropes around behind him for anything even remotely useful as a weapon and lands on the tire-iron just in time to smash it into the face of the dead woman once more lunging in his direction. Another strike as she tries to get up and he cringes and almost loses his lunch at the feeling of her skull cracking open and her brain splattering across the pavement. Hell, he really might have lost it if not for the howl coming at him far too fast. This time, he opts not to look as the hears the wet crunch and just leaps to his feet and starts running back toward relative safety.

“Alex?”

Oh fuck. “Stay on the bus, Val!”

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, Niccols! What the fuck is going—”

Alex fails to hear the rest as he spins around to slam the tire-iron as hard as he can into something else behind him. This time it gets yanked right out of his hand as the body drops and he scrambles back onto the bus, practically picking up a protesting Val in order to get her out of the way of the door that he immediately slams closed. He lets her go as he collapses into the driver’s seat, wide-eyed and hands shaking, and it takes him a moment to register the sound of his dog whimpering by his knee, let alone that of his own name. When the world comes back into focus, though, Val is staring at him in horror. It takes him another moment to realize why.

“Alex? What the fuck happened?” Whether she sounds more panicked or angry, Alex is far too dazed to tell. Her hands reach for his face, his shoulders, moving down to check every inch. “Are you okay?”

Taking a deep breath, he raises a hand to wipe at his face. No. No he is not okay. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Val does not look like she believes him at all. “Is that—Fuck. That—That’s blood! Why the fuck are you covered in blood?”

Breathe, Alex. Always a good plan to breathe. “Shh. Don’t…” Never mind. Telling her to keep it quiet is pointless. Everybody else will have heard it already.

He shoves himself back to his feet, legs weak and wobbly, and stumbles as he makes his way through the curtain that separates the cabin from the rest of the bus. It is instantly evident that the rest of the band did, in fact, hear all of that. All three of them are already staring at him before he even properly steps into view. He is pretty sure that Sasha is the one choke out an “on shit” and it is definitely Macy whose response comes out as barely a squeak.

“Blood?” On his feet now, Macy rushes in to cling to Alex’s shirt, bodily fluids not withstanding. “None of it’s yours, right? You’re not hurt? You’re okay?”

Again, Alex reminds himself to breathe, turning just enough so that he can see where Val still stands in the doorway, Parker lying on the floor a foot or so behind her, his ears back and expression scared. For her part, Val is gripping the doorway so tightly that Alex can only assume that she is trying very hard not move and crowd him any further.

“None of it’s mine.” He looks at the faces around him, all of them staring, all confused and various degrees of frightened. It brings everything right back into focus. “We need to—” It takes a deep breath in and a slow breath out to get his thoughts back in line. “Everybody grab a bag, pack food, necessities, just—just whatever.” Stepping a little closer to Val, just near enough to pull one of her hands down from the wall and give it a quick squeeze. “We gotta get outta here.”

---

Nate leans out of the passenger side window just far enough to level his sights on one of the creatures that already looks less human and fires. One shot, between the eyes, and it hits the ground and disappears beneath the feet of its companions. He hears a quiet gagging sound come from the driver’s seat and finds himself feeling a bit queasy in turn. They are both going to need to make some real changes to their perspective re: what constitutes a monster and they need to make those changes really quickly because as of right now, it is going to be really difficult to get out of this mess without completely rewiring their conscience.

“Um, Nate?”

With barely a glance spared toward Dennis, Nate focuses himself on reloading. “Yeah?”

“How many, uh—how many of them are back there?”

The question gives him pause but Nate squints to get a count anyway. “About a dozen in view. Why?”

“Because we need to, uh—we have to stop for a minute.”

Nate drops back into his seat so quickly that he nearly smacks his head off the door. “We what?”

Not even bothering to look at him, Dennis simply peels one shaking hand off of the steering wheel to point at something ahead. “We have to stop.”

Nate has to squint but he starts moving the moment that he sees exactly what Dennis is looking at. “I’ve got the door.”

It was rather obvious even from a single glance at a decent distance that the man up ahead, standing stock still in his torn slacks and a blood, rolled shirt-sleeves, was staring straight past the car speeding toward him and cursing the sight of the ever-growing number of zombies trailing behind. Dennis hits the gas and is slamming the breaks in what feels like no time.

Nate shoves the back door open and feels like there is really no room for argument when he shouts to the man to get in but he has been wrong before and apparently he is right now. Instead of heading straight for them, the guy curses in a language that they are now close enough for Nate to tell is definitely not English and turns away.

“Hey!” Dennis spins in his seat to look behind them, which Nate is sure that he immediately regrets. “What the hell? What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know. He’s just—” And that is when the stranger pulls his gun, takes out three approaching zombies in relatively rapid succession, and finally turns to sprint back toward the car. “—getting a little girl.”

The child is practically flung into the back seat and their new passenger wastes no time slamming the door behind himself and snapping, “Go. Now.”

Dennis really does not need to be told and floors it the second he knows the door is closed.

“Take a left onto Carver,” the man continues, his tone speaking volumes regarding how unwilling he would be to hear any question or protest. “Follow signs for the mall plaza.” He leans out the window to pick off a few more of the monsters before Nate’s slightly incredulous look catches his attention and his scowl is honestly pretty terrifying. “You’ll be out of gas before the edge of town so, under the assumption that you wish to live—”

Nate’s eyes narrow in suspicion but Dennis has absolutely no qualms against following the orders of anyone with a plan right now and practically takes the aforementioned turn on two wheels when he nearly misses it.

---

“Are you sure you can hotwire this piece of shit?”

“It’s not a piece of shit, it’s a fucking classic.”

Val rolls her eyes at that as she continues trying to calm the utterly panicked Macy currently clinging to her so tightly that he might as well just climb into her goddamn skin. “Fine. Can you really hotwire this ‘fucking classic’?”

Two seconds later, the engine revs up as Alex sits back in the driver’s seat with a trin and a waggle of his stupid eyebrows. Sasha squeals in relief and flings her arms around him from her place in the back seat, as he laughs. “My mechanical genius is wasted on this red wire green wire bullshit.”

He pops the trunk just as something begins to stir inside of the nearby diner and Val shoves Sasha aside to squeeze Macy in so that she can help Nico load their bags at record speed. By the time she flings herself into the front passenger seat, there are already zombies starting to stumble out of the woodwork. Fuck seatbelts. “Gun it!”

Alex hits the gas and they peel out of the parking lot just as the diner’s doors give way.

He had tried to explain what had happened while they packed. It had felt impossible for Val to actually wrap her mind around it at first but once she had seen the mess outside? She had practically dragged Alex and Macy off in search of the nearest source of potential transportation. They needed to find something quickly and it needed to be something fast and she needed to not think about how painfully familiar the blood and gore looked, though she had only ever seen anything like it in her nightmares. When Alex had needed to stop and vomit into the nearest garbage can, she had a feeling that she understood why and a little pocket of rage flared to life in her chest – not because he had to stop but because he never should have been the one to wind up with someone else’s blood on his hands.

“Where are we going?” Macy is the one to finally ask, almost inaudible from where he has curled up against Sasha now, and Val catches his eye in the rearview mirror before she looks toward Alex.

Alex, however, is entirely too focused on driving to really think but so much and instead catches her eye before clearing his throat. “Nick?”

In the back, Nico turns away from the horrors outside of his window. “What?”

“How do you defend yourself against a zombie invasion?”

“Wha—Zombies aren’t exactly my specialty here.”

“No,” Alex agrees, “but zombies are supposed to be a helluva lot dumber than, say, Reavers, right? You know Reavers.”

“So?”

“So how would you defend yourself against an invasion of retarded Reavers?”

The drummer just stares at him for a moment with an expression that plainly says that he may consider that to be the dumbest question that he has ever heard. Eventually, thought, there is an answer. “I’d find the most well-stocked, easily-fortifiable location I could think of and hope I could wait out the attack or find some other way to get through them.”

There is silence in the car and then Alex shrugs. “All right. So, where’s the most well-stocked and easily-fortifiable location we can think of?

Five minutes later, they find themselves screeching into the parking lot of the local mall. The location almost seems somehow normal, given the situation at hand. In fact, were it not for the shrieking horde behind them or the knowledge that Alex is currently doing seventy into a public lot, it might almost feel a little reminiscent of home. Val almost finds it funny, really. What’s funnier to her than coming to a mall for safety, however, is the fact that they were obviously not the only ones with that idea, as they are definitely not the only ones pulling into the place with a bunch of undead goons straggling along behind them.

---

“Miguel.”

There is a burst of static in his ear as Viktor leans out to empty his 22 into the crowd of creatures still chasing behind the car that had picked him up on the highway. Once within range, he takes out a couple of the ones latching on to the other car that had pulled in to the lot at about the same time, too. When his magazine clicks empty, he makes a snap decision to save his 20 for later and drops back into the seat to reload. The driver glances at him in the rearview, looking a little bit frightened, while the original passenger only eyes him for a moment before leaning out of the other side with a freshly loaded shotgun. His fellow gunner might not be terribly trusting but at least Viktor can respect that. Besides, who needs trust? The guy’s a fairly good shot.

“Zatratím tě, Miguel!” The little girl still curled up beside him whimpers. He can hear it over the gunfire, the static, all of the goddamned zombies. It is grating on his very last nerve. “Odpovídáš mě!”

He could hope for no better response than to lean back out just in time to watch as a line of four hostiles drops one by one.

“En ingles, ’mano.” Another line of undead hit the ground as the line sputters out then clears up again, leaving room for easily the most welcome voice he has ever known. “Now where the Hell have you been?”

Viktor nearly laughs. “We can trade stories later, miláčku. Right now, I need cover fire while I try to get these people into the posraný mall.”

“Going shopping?”

“Sklapni. We try the mall or they come to your shop.”

“How many?”

Viktor glances toward the other vehicle still circling around the parking lot with them. “Eight plus me.”

“Well, if they dropped you—”

“Miguel.”

“Sí, sí, the mall sounds like a plan. There’s a garage off to your right. No good angle for me to shoot the lock off but I can keep the number of uglies down while you get in.”

“Děkuji.”

“That means thank you, sí?”

Viktor rolls his eyes. “Sí.”

The line bursts back into static with a laugh.

---

As it turns out, the garage door does not, in fact, require a shot to the lock. It rolls up just enough for the two cars to through before Dennis’s little hatchback even hits the ramp. On the other side, a young woman motions for them to hurry while two men in security uniforms stand to either side of the entrance to help keep the monsters at bay, though it appears that this Miguel guy really only needs the most basic of assistance. His precision is honestly kind of terrifying and Dennis is just as glad not to see any more examples of it as he swerves off to one side so that the other car has room. Nate and their scarier passenger are both out before he even has the damned thing in park, seeing to it that nothing gets in the way of girl at the door to slam the thing shut.

“We saw you on the security cameras,” of the security guards explains as he climbs up to try and jam the gears.

The other car’s driver takes a moment to collect himself, then grabs a wrench and makes his way over to the ladder. “Here. Let me have a look at that.”

“Figured we couldn’t just leave you out there.” The guard climbs down to let the driver up. “Then Shannon said she thought you were headed this way.”

“Thanks.” Dennis finally climbs out only to stretch over the top of his car.

The woman now known as Shannon simply smiles. “No problem. Mercy for your fellow man or something like that.” She laughs and shrugs, looking slightly flustered, though that is probably to be expected, all things considered. “Anyway, come on. Let’s get you all inside. We’ve got food, clothes, relatively comfortable furniture… We’ll get you poor things all cleaned up and sorted out in no time.”

There is a general rumble of agreement as the little group follows her to the door that leads into the connected store, allowing themselves to be ushered toward where another girl is waiting somewhat impatiently. That is, they all follow along aside from one man, anyway, who simply mutters something into his headset before switching it off and making his way back over to the hatchback. Shannon looks back, confused, as does Nate, though he looks more suspicious about it.

Dennis just sighs. “The little girl.” Then he ducks through the doorway and drags Nate away after the rest.

---

“Come on, holčička.” Viktor crouches down beside the open car door with a sigh as the child remains curled up in the center of the back seat. Children. How did anyone actually deal with children, let alone have them by choice?

The little girl simply whimpers and mumbles, “There are monsters out there.”

Well, at least the stuttering has stopped and he supposes he can concede that she has a fair point. “The monsters are outside, not with us.”

Before he can receive a response or think of anything more convincing to say, there is someone else coming up behind him, bending down to look the child in the eye with a painfully sympathetic and all too sugarcoated smile. He might be able to handle the sight of it at any other time but right now, with everything that he has just been through and the way that she has the gall to place one of her hands on his shoulder as if—God, he would really like to wipe that smile off of her face.

“Hi, there,” she says, voice floating in a way that speaks plainly of a familiarity with appeasing people under the age of seven. “I’m Shannon. What’s your name?”

Caught slightly off-guard, the child squeaks. “Um. I—I’m—” The little girl shoots a quick glance toward Viktor then, almost as if asking permission to speak with this new stranger before she finally answers. “I’m Amanda.”

Shannon’s smile becomes even brighter, even sweeter, if that is even possible, and Viktor has to dig his nails into his palms to keep himself from taking out her kneecaps when she leans even further over him, hand squeezing his shoulder. “Amanda? Well, that’s a pretty name! Are you hungry, Amanda?”

The little girl nods.

“Well, we’ve got all sorts of food inside. We’ve got toys, too, and games and books and all sorts of neat stuff.”

“And—and no monsters?”

Shannon laughs. “And no monsters.”

Still curled up in the seat, Amanda chews worriedly at her lip for a moment longer, eyes flashing back and forth between the two adults still there in the door. Shannon keeps smiling, encouraging. Viktor just stays crouched there with a clenched jaw and a headache starting to build behind his eyes. When the girl finally moves, though, it does not go entirely as expected. Rather than reaching for Shannon’s offered hand, she instead launches herself forward to wrap her little arms tight around Viktor’s neck and duck her head in under his chin, completely unaware of the rather undignified look of surprise that he is entirely unable to keep off of his face. Unhelpfully, all Shannon does in response is giggle.

#otto writes #original characters #zombies #violence #lol wut #writing: after infection

2 notes · View notes

stilloutofmyvulcanmind · 5 years

Text

And It All Came Tumbling Down Part 2

Request: Reader getting people out to safety gets hurt really badly and trapped, and Bruce has to save her

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Female!Reader, Dick Grayson

Word Count: 2400

Warnings: Explosions, graphic injuries, drowning, angst

Summary: During a work party a call comes in that the Joker has planted a bomb somewhere in Gotham. You’re tasked with clearing your building when the unthinkable happens.

A/N: Thank you for all the lovely comments on part 1, and I hope you all like this part too! It’s a little different since it’s all from Bruce’s POV!

Part 2 of 3

Part 1 Part 3

He should've seen it coming. He should've known Joker would target the Tower. But when he'd looked at the list it had seemed like the least obvious. There'd been two others on the list that had Joker written all over it. One was the biggest in Gotham with a current occupation of near a thousand. The other was slightly smaller but currently hosting a party for some of the most influential politicians in the state. Either would cause chaos, make the rest of Gotham feel even less safe than they did already. He'd gone to one, sent Robin to the other, certain they'd find it and stop a catastrophe.

He'd been halfway through his hotel when he heard the explosion. Moments later it came through the comms that it was the Tower. Top two levels were near destroyed.

Bruce had tried calling Y/N but it only went to voicemail. Nothing to worry about, he'd told himself. In the rush and mayhem, it would be easy to miss a call.

He'd just reached the Batmobile when the second bomb went off. He was the opposite end of the city but he saw the flames explode, bright against the darkness. It was hard to tell what floor it was, but it was lower, and it decimated it. Time had seemed to slow as he watched the hotel almost collapse in on itself. If anyone was still inside…

He'd kept trying to call her, but nothing. She could've left her phone behind or dropped it, he told himself, but there was a stone settling in the pit of his stomach that said otherwise.

The fourth time he tried the line connected. "Y/N?! Are you out? Are you safe?" Logic said he should've waited for her to speak first, just to make sure it was Y/N answering, but he needed to ask.

For a few, too long seconds all he could hear was the ragged gasps of someone trying to breathe. A woman if his instincts were correct. Then, finally, "Bruce…stuck…" Her voice was quiet, words spoken at the ends of harsh breaths.

His fingers tightened around the leather of the steering wheel, foot pressing down on the accelerator as he swerved down the streets, cursing silently as he glanced at the GPS on the display screen. The chaos of needing to rapidly evacuate several hotels had led to multiple areas being cordoned off, meaning he was forced to take a nondirect route.

“I’m on the way. Ten minutes and I’ll be with you, okay? Just hold on.” He kept his voice steady, calm. He was the Batman. And Batman was always cool and collected. The creator of fear not the feeler of it. It was a practice he’d become an expert at over the years, but not something he’d ever hoped to implement when it came to Y/N. But right now he needed to, for both their sakes.

“...’kay.” The word was so faint it was barely audible. She was fading. Bruce mentally cataloged every injury he’d acquired over his many, many falls over the years, too many too serious despite his suit. Y/N had nothing but an evening gown to protect her.

“Stay with me, Y/N,” he said, needing to keep her attention. “Where are you hurt?” It wasn’t ideal, but it’d keep her focused and let him know just how quickly she’d need medical attention.

“Dunno. My head. It hurts. Something...something on my legs. Pinning me.” The head injury explained a lot of her behavior, the confusion, the words that were starting to sound slurred. That was his main concern for now. Then she was talking again. “M’side...I don’t…”

Her scream turned his blood to ice. “Y/N!” Nothing. He called again. All he could hear was agonized whimpers, small, high-pitched things that sounded more like a wounded animal than a human. “Y/N!”

The third shout seemed to get her back. “Fell...on something. Lots of blood.” The Batmobile squealed as it rounded a sharp corner, swerving slightly before straightening out again. He knew from experience that was the exact opposite of good. He ran through the options. If they could keep whatever she fell on in place, she’d stand a chance. The trouble was going to be getting her out of a destroyed building without disturbing it. Chances of getting paramedics in were slim, and if it was too long or big or attached to something…

"Bruce…" the fear in her voice was unmistakable, the word cracking even as she whispered it.

In all the time he'd known her, never once had she been scared. She'd been caught in one of Two-Face's campaigns to cleanse the city, and as Batman, he'd watched from the rafters as she'd volunteered herself to be the next to face the judgment of his coin. Had looked death in the face with a head held high and squared shoulders, her voice never wavering or faltering as she spoke. She'd been brave, bold and beautiful. He didn't know her name back then, but he was sure he fell in love that day.

And it was all because she'd had complete faith that Batman would save her. She'd looked Dent straight in the eye and told him so. He'd proven her faith true that day, and she had rewarded him with unerring confidence ever since.

On the darkest of days when even he wasn't sure he could save the day, she'd been there, telling him with complete and utter surety that he could, and, that he would be coming home that night. Never once had there even been a tremble in her voice, nothing that would have ever suggested fear.

To hear it now, to hear Y/N so scared and defeated, it hit harder than Bane ever could.

The leather on the wheel creaked as Bruce’s grip tightened to an almost crushing point. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. I’m getting you out.”

A whimper. A sniffle. Another whimper. The sharp jerk of the inhale hurt her. He should be the one hurting, not her. Never her. “N-no...dangerous,” she managed to whisper, and his control nearly snapped right then.

“I’m not leaving you, Y/N. I’ll fix this.” Because he had to. This was his fault. Y/N was hurt because of him. Because he’d decided to take advantage of her position as COO and start skipping work events he didn’t want to attend. If he’d been there when the video came in, he would’ve evacuated the hotel before disappearing into the night. He would’ve made sure Y/N was out. And if the bombs had gone off? Then at least he’d be trapped knowing she was safe.

It went quiet, and Bruce was about to call out to her again when she spoke, words quiet and more slurred together. “Br’ce...m’srry…” His heart twisted and shattered, crumbling into a million tiny pieces. No. No. She shouldn’t be the one apologizing. Not for this. Not for anything that had happened tonight. That was him.

He couldn’t keep up the pretense anymore. Not when she sounded so...so broken. He took a breath and hit the button on his cowl to disable the voice modulator. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do. But if the Bat wasn’t assuaging her fear, maybe Bruce could. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, baby.” He spoke softly but kept his voice steady.

“Do...was s’lfish. Shouldn’t’ve b’n.”

It was all wrong. He’d been the selfish one. And when she was safe, when he could hold her in his arms, he’d tell her. He’d whisper ‘sorry’ a million times over and hope for a forgiveness that he probably didn’t deserve. “We’ll talk about this once you’re safe, okay? I’m nearly there.” He was seconds away now, the cops around the perimeter jumping out of his way when they saw the car.

Y/N didn’t argue. “L’ve you.”

“I love you.” The words sounded too much like a goodbye.

He reactivated the voice modulator in the same instant as he jumped out of the Batmobile, activating the lens in his cowl to scan for heat signatures in the crumbling building. Gordon was there immediately, telling him that at present everyone was accounted for. He shook his head. There were small fires scattered throughout, but there, on the eighth floor, a body. Y/N.

“I’m picking up a heat signal. Someone’s still trapped inside. Have paramedics on standby.” With that he grappled up to the roof of an adjacent building, perching on the edge as he looked for a way in. “I’m here,” he said to Y/N. “One minute and I’ll have you. I’m just working out my route down.”

There was an opening on the fourteenth floor he could use for access, but after that, it was difficult to see what was stable and what wasn’t. Time was of the essence, but if he moved too quickly, he could end up doing more harm than good. He’d have to be careful.

He was about to grapple to the opening when Y/N spoke, “Bruce-” the rest of her sentence was cut off by a thundering crash and a scream. The line crackled and went dead.

Without thinking, he launched himself off the roof. He could see her falling with his lenses, nothing stopping her more for than a second. He breached the building and dived down after her, safety be damned. She was below him, about three floors further ahead. He could see her now even without the heat source.

“Y/N!”

Chunks of rubble blew past him. Something sliced along his jaw. It didn’t matter. He had to get her…

The realization that he wouldn’t be able to catch her in time hit him like a train. The world slowed down around him, each second lasting an eternity as he watched his own outstretched hand try in vain to grab onto her. But she was too far below him. Out of his reach and he was helpless to change that.

A fall from eight floors up? With who knew what injuries already? It was impossible.

He was going to lose her.

He’d failed.

The thud and crack of a body breaking against a hard floor never came.

In its place were a series of splashes and a shower of icy cold water spraying upwards. The hotel had a spa on its bottom level. A pool. If she’d gotten lucky and rubble landed in it before her...

There was still hope.

He’d been ready to plunge straight into the water, but a spark caught his eye and he grabbed onto a broken beam at the last second. There was a snapped electrical wire, dangling just above the surface of the water, and seemed to be slipping down closer and closer to it. If it hit before he got Y/N it would kill her for sure. A split-second decision later, he was lunging for it, grabbing the wire just before it touched the surface and throwing it up to hook onto the edge of something, out of harm’s way.

In the same breath, he turned and nosedived into the water, a brief thought at the back of his mind saying to thank Lucius for the waterproof tech later. It was black under the surface, the water-filled with bits of debris that made navigating difficult. But there. Y/N was lying at the bottom of the pool. Trapped under a metal pipe. Bruce gripped it, heaving it off of her, before circling an arm around her waist and dragging them both back up to the surface.

He emerged with a gasp of air, but Y/N lay limp against his chest, glassy eyes staring into nothing. No. Not now.

Later he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone exactly how he got them both out of there. It was all a blur of grappling up and up, using the nearest semi steady surface, until he was pulling them both out into the night. He landed back on the adjacent roof, laying her gently down on it.

"Y/N?" He called, feeling for her pulse at the same time as he scanned her. His stomach dropped. She'd gotten lucky with the lack of serious injuries but that meant nothing right now.

He signaled for Gordon to get medics up there ASAP and started CPR. Five breaths. Thirty chest compressions and check. Nothing.

What was once a pale blue dress was now soaked dark, even darker around her middle where blood was seeping into it. He could see it spread along the ground in the streetlight too. At this rate, she'd bleed out before he could get her heart beating again.

Dick appeared on the rooftop, his sure steps fumbling when he took in the sight and collapsed onto his knees the other side of her. Bruce risked a glance up, seeing the boy staring back at him. He couldn't see his eyes behind the domino mask, but he knew the sight of fear.

"Use your cape and put pressure on the wound. Both sides."

Dick obeyed immediately, use the bright material to try and staunch the wound through Y/N's side as best he could. Bruce didn't miss a beat with the compressions. It was only the years of training that kept him from breaking rhythm in his increasing desperation.

Fresh blood was sliding down Y/N's face and neck. In the low light, he could make out at least one head injury.

"B…" Dick only needed to say a single letter for Bruce to know what he was asking. He wanted to know if they should call it. If they were too late and Y/N was beyond help.

"Keep the pressure," he growled, his eyes never leaving her face. He daren't look anywhere else, lest his own feelings show.

He could hear the medics nearby. They'd be on the roof soon. He just needed Y/N to be breathing when they did.

"C'mon, baby," he whispered quietly enough that even Dick barely caught it. Another two breaths into her mouth, his rhythm breaking a second when there was still no response.

He couldn't lose her. Not now. Not like this.

Gritting his teeth he redoubled his efforts. Not today.

"Please."

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! (I’ll love you forever)

Tagging: @medicatemedrmccoy @thefanficfaerie @weresilver-in-space @theravenkingishome @abigailadams1788 @iwillmakeyoucraveme @ishouldvebutdidnt @wonhos-world @electricprincess888 @cuddlememerrick @slytherinsheashire @kacchasu @generalgoldfishldrm @dc-marvel-girl96 @sagyunaro @lizzga @padfoot-siriusly-approves @mybabyboytony @imaginethatwow @gretchenzellerbarnes @bitterisreality @megarichoo-blog @thearcher17 @notsohappysunflower @quoththe-raven @startrekstartrash @thatanonymouschocolate @eternalabysss

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne #Batman #dceu imagine #dc #Dceu

322 notes · View notes

hughiecampbelle · 5 years

Text

Dirt Nap (Arthur Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Arthur

Word Count: 1, 198

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt

A/N: Day one at home hasn't been going well already, and ya gurl really needed to write :) I've had this idea/set up all week, but the words just never came. They never felt right, and they still don't, but ya gotta write even if it's bad. Regardless of how I feel abt it, I thought I'd share it. I haven't written in a while and just think keeping it because I think it's bad would be unfair. I hope you're all healthy and safe and taking time for yourselves in these crazy times! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

~ FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. ~

A man bent, bowing, praying on broken knees, spitting, cursing the man on the cross. His prayers weren't sweet, nor were they thankful. He took everything from him, stripped him of love, of joy, of any sort of happiness at all. Ripped his future to shreds before his eyes. Made him pay for his sins, his debts, in blood rather than money. Stripped a man of everything he had, everything, until he was nothing but exposed bone, naked muscle, a memory of himself. A shadow. Still, he found himself between the pews, his fists sewn together, knit in busted knuckles and bloody fingernails, his head risen, his eyes resting on the cross, the stained glass, the sunlight peaking through, wondering what the fuck he was doing here in the first place. Then he was reminded, your hand on his shoulder. A light, gentle touch, the push he needed. Chin to chest, finish the prayers, straighten the hat on his head. Places like these took prisoners, people who couldn't find their way back on their feet, but he wasn't one of them. There were things he could be forgiven for, and things he could not.

That was that.

He would not beg for forgiveness, not when he wasn't sorry in the first place.

Instead he walked the streets, followed the path home. One familiar, inviting, a route that came with a sense of relief. The door, old and creaky, just a little too big for its frame, one he'd always promised he'd get around to fixing. Cobblestone steps that always caught your toe. The cracked window looking in, daunting, unforgiving, letting out what little heat slept inside. A long list of chores. A home of demands and work, but inside, a love too easy, too effortless. Cursing the fucking door, the fucking window, that step, but inside the anger melted.

He'd always had too much emotion for one man. A swelling in his chest, an unbelievable ache, the only thing that kept his heart beating. Blind. Blackout. Emotions and reactions separate. Anger that left him sobbing, shaking, crawling out of his skin. Sadness of stone, of ruthlessness, leaving him yearning to pull the trigger. No one ever knew if he'd implode or explode. No one, but you. You were his diffuser, his constant, one of the few who could reign in these terrible, overwhelming feelings. Your voice, your skin, your very presence. That home was all the things it was, because you lived in it. You were there with him, in the bed, the plates, the cushions. You were in everything, and that's what made him feel like it was a proper home.

At the bar, bleary eyed, slurring his words, he could lean on you, celebrate with you. Laughing, smoking, kissing your entire face. Infatuation. Swinging you around the room to the tune of a song, holding you close, vowing to never let go. Now he swayed, your head on his shoulder, your arms around him tight, reminding him you were there. You always would be. Bumping into tables, chairs, drunks dozing off just as the place was about to close. Stumbling home in one another's arms, finding yourselves all the way to your bedroom. He'd take off his shirt, struggling with the buttons, dropping it wherever it may rest. Climb beside you beneath the covers, grateful for you, for these moments. He'd thank you, and life, and his lucky stars before he'd ever thank that God of his. Maybe that was his first mistake. Maybe it'd be his last.

A life like this came with strings, with fear and deals with the devil himself. It came with danger. An impending end, a luck that would run out eventually. Arthur knew his temper would get him into trouble, he'd been warned by anyone with a single breath in their lungs. That blind rage of his would get him killed. And he was ready. A gun between the eyes, quick, painless, without a second thought. He could only hope for a storybook ending like that. A final bow before the curtains dropped. The very last act. A written will, one prepared just before the war. He'd seen the face of death, looked into her eyes, but it never came for him, not even during the war. It mocked his every move, his every step, even down the aisle. He never thought he'd find a ring around his finger, and yet it was there now, bright, shiny, a light. A reminder of what there was to fight for, what he had to lose. You. It would always be you. You at the altar, in those photos, taking his last name, vowing to be there in sickness and in health, til death would you part.

But you stuck around after.

A ghost, a figure only he could see, feel. Alone in the church, coming back to an empty home, drunkenly clutching at the air. He slept in the bed alone these days, your side cold, firm, screaming. He'd been the one to find you. Stained the cracked window in red, the front door left wide open. Glass broken in the kitchen, furniture sliced open, stuffing overflowing, bleeding. A mess leading all the way to your bedroom, the one you shared since the night you married. Just how he imagined for himself. Quick. Painless. But the bullet hadn't blown through his skull, and the pain was incredible. Not for one second had he ever thought he'd be the one picking up the pieces. He'd prepared you for a life without him. Shared the bills, the guns, anything you'd need to get on without him, face this fucked up thing called life without him. You never liked when he spoke like that, gushing his words, urging him to go back to sleep, to move on, not to instigate a lady named Death. But they knew that. They knew the only rightful torture was not to hurt him, but the one he loved. To do something that would be irreversible no matter how hard or how much a godless man got on his knees and prayed.

He prayed for your soul to be at rest, for a heavenly afterlife, for you to keep the joys that had been ripped from him. If you were happy, that's all that mattered. He prayed that you would not watch him for what he was about to do. Tender, soft, honeyed in your presence. Without you, he could be so cruel, so severe, so grim he would have been unrecognizable. They had to pay. Kill one, or one hundred. He wouldn't stop until they felt the same way he has every single day since. At the funeral, quiet, still, his arms beneath his suit torn, shards of front window embedded in them. His spine crushed, crumbled beneath the weight of a world without you. The sheets ripped, the bedside table destroyed, the wallpaper clawed at. He used to love that room. Now he couldn't think about it without bursting. He needed them to burst, to detonate, to shatter the same way did when he was reminded you slept beneath the earth and not in your bed beside him.

#writing #arthur shelby #arthur shelby drabble #arthur shelby oneshot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders drabble #peaky blinders oneshot #arthur shelby x reader #arthur x reader #x reader #drabble #oneshot #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

57 notes · View notes

m1m1kyuirl · 5 years

Text

Parkner Play Video Games

A quick one-shot about Peter, Harley and Video Games.

Summary: Harley Keener moved into Stark Tower a week ago. One week later, Peter had just about enough of Harley’s constant snarky remarks. Little does he know, all he needs for his world to change is a few rounds at video game.

Warnings: None

Rating: Teen

Words: 1496

Read it on Ao3

“Wow, you’re really bad at the game, Peter.”

Peter felt his body stiffen at Harley’s comment. He tried to pretend that he hadn’t heard the slightly older boy. Harley had just moved into the Stark tower last week, and from the moment he had walked out of the elevator with his brown hair perfectly messy, with his strong arms, one underneath the cardboard box brimming with gadgets and the other holding the handle of his luggage, with his icy blue eyes that froze Peter in place on the sofa and made him feel as if his skin was on fire, from that moment Peter had known that Harley was trouble. Tony had said that Harley was smart, but he never said anything about him being hot.

“I mean, you’re really, really, bad at the game.” Prodded the taller boy.

Peter prayed for patience silently. He already had plenty of strength, not that his superhuman strength had prevented Harley from making small remarks at everything Peter did. When Peter grabbed a Pepsi from the fridge last Tuesday, he almost spilled half of it on himself when he saw Harley leaning against the kitchen door frame. Harley had said that sugary drinks stunted growth and then turned on his heel and left. Thinking about it still made Peter’s face burn. He wasn’t that short. Besides, he had read a study that said that most humans don’t stop growing until they were 21. That still left him with 4 years of time to get taller.

“Wait. You’re actually really, really, re-” Harley began, but was cut off.

“I get it Harley! I’m really, really, really, bad at this game, okay? Just stick it, will you?” Peter interjected hotly.

Now the only thing that was heard in the living room was the sounds of Peter firing guns and being shot at. He felt a twinge of regret and wondered if he had been a little too harsh but felt that the reprieve from Harley was worth it. A reprieve that was shortly enjoyed.

Harley bounced onto the sofa. The distraction was enough to throw Peter’s aim off, and he was quickly shot down.

“See? Really, really, really, bad.” Harley’s calm and nonchalant tone made Peter see red.

“I only died because of you!” Peter screamed, his voice cracking at the end. He saw the look in Harley’s hazel eyes and felt his anger flare up again. They were gleaming. With glee.

“Not. A. Single. Word.” Peter growled. He hit “respawn”.

Peter peripherally saw Harley open his mouth.

“Not a word.”

He died again.

His eyes shot to his left, where Harley sat, shaking his leg. He saw his shiny lips part.

“Not.”

Harley raised his eyebrows.

“A.”

Harley widened his eyes as if he was trying to appeal to Peter’s better nature.

“Word.”

Harley raised his arms, which Peter noted still looked strong, in surrender. A smirk spread itself across Harley’s face. Peter hated how perfect Harley looked like this. How perfectly infuriating.

Peter hit “respawn” again. He walked through a doorway, thinking about whether to aim for the head or if the chest was better, to account for the recoil of his gun, when he was shot dead again. He struggled to resist the urge to curse. He shoved the controller into Harley’s hands, and made a valiant attempt to shrug off the electricity he felt when their hands touched.

Peter stood up from the sofa and stormed off, thinking about the excuses he was going to have to make up and tell Mr. Stark so that he could avoid being in the tower whenever it was inhabited by Harley. Maybe he would conveniently forget his jacket at home, maybe even fall sick. He just didn’t feel like being around Harley. Maybe for the next 20 years. Harley was so mean. It didn’t even matter that he was gorgeous. Or maybe it was the fact that he was so hot that made it worse.

His dramatic exit was brought to a halt. Peter felt a hand on his wrist.

“Wait. Peter.” Harley said. All trace of the snark that Peter had heard all week was gone. “Stay. I’ll teach ya, okay?”

It wasn’t the offer of having Harley teach him that made Peter sit back down on the sofa. It was his tone. It didn’t feel like a knife against his throat, waiting for him to make a mistake, for a reason to cut him. It felt warm, gentle, and caring. Either way, Peter found himself back on the plush sofa in the living room, albeit carefully ensuring that he didn’t face its other occupant.

Peter felt something nudge the side of his arm. He carefully peered over, laying his eyes on the black controller with Harley’s hand still holding it.

“I said I’ll teach ya,” Harley offered, raising his eyebrows. Peter swore he saw Harley physically resisting the urge to wink.

“So, play. What’re you waiting for?” Peter said.

“I ain’t gonna make it that easy, Parker. I’ll teach ya, while ya play.” Harley drawled. He nudged Peter with the controller again.

Peter snatched it out of his hands, earning a grin from the southern boy. His compliance could have been attributed to Harley calling him “Parker” for the first time, or the way his accent and drawl made Peter’s insides flutter.

He hit “respawn” once again, and started controlling his character, walking him out of spawn.

Peter froze. There was a thumb that wasn’t his own on the controller, causing his character to move away from his usual route. Harley was leading him into an underground tunnel, away from all the chaos of the battlefield. Rounding a corner, Peter jumped as he saw a crouching enemy. His gun fired, taking the enemy out. Peter looked down, puzzled. He certainly hadn’t fired. That was when he realized that Harley’s right hand was hovering inches away from his own hand. He pieced two and two together. Then, Peter’s mind went blank. Harley’s hovering hand fell onto his, confidently maneuvering through the map, calmly gunning down any enemies that dared to cross his path. What really took Peter’s breath away, however, wasn’t Harley’s stellar gameplay. It was the fact that for Harley to have his hands on the controller like he did, he would have had to be essentially bear-hugging Peter. Which he was. The contact was driving Peter crazy. His mind buzzed, his skin blazed.

“W-what do you think you’re doing, Harley?” Peter choked.

“Teaching my boyfriend how to play this video game. He’s really thick, it took my literally getting him to straddle me for him take a hint.” Harley said nonchalantly.

“Boyfriend?” Peter squeaked.

“Yeah. Did I mention he’s thick? I’ve been dropping hints all week since I moved into the same building as him. All he got was mad, though.” Harley continued.

Suddenly it all made sense. All the comments. It was classic playground flirting. If you want a person’s attention, give them a shove. Peter felt so stupid for not connecting the dots earlier. But now he had more important things to worry about. He hoped Harley wasn’t noticing the tent forming in his sweatpants.

“I think he’s got the hint now, though.” Harley gave that smirk of his again. Peter could just feel Harley smirking.

That was when the elevator dinged.

It was too late for Peter to get in a more presentable position so all he could do was sit there, frozen in between Harley’s arms – and legs – as Tony Stark strolled out of the elevator. It took the mechanic a few moments before he saw the boys straddling on his million-dollar sofa, as he was in a holographic conference with the other Avengers.

Then his eyes focused past the semi see-through Captain America and on the scene in front of him. Harley wrapped around Peter, the two of them playing some trending shooter. The former smirking at Tony just like he did all those years ago during the Mandarin fiasco, and the latter, with his face the color of a tomato with the same facial expression he had made when Tony made fun of his Spider-man suit that Tony secretly thought resembled that of a constipated baby.

“Guys, I’ll call you back.” Tony said. “Hold call.”

“M-Mr. Stark I can explain!” Peter sputtered. He didn’t get a chance to find out how Tony had felt about stuff like this. Peter himself wasn’t even sure what this was. Apparently, he wasn’t as straight as he thought.

Tony paused.

“Take care of him, Harley. And Peter, keep Harley in check.” He eventually said, walking towards his office (on this level).

Peter turned his head to face Harley. Their brown eyes met. Their laughter filled the previously silent room.

“Oh yeah. I won the bet by the way. Peter didn’t know, did he?” Tony returned to the room, once again surrounded by the holographic Avengers.

“Yea, you were right. Darlin’ didn’t have a damn clue.” Harley smirked.

#Parkner #Harley Keener x Peter Parker #Harley Keener #Peter Parker #Spider-man #Keenker

247 notes · View notes

emdythewriter · 5 years

Text

Scars of our lives | chapter one (acotar)

A/N: I feel like I’ve been posting a lot of new fics lately and you guys are probably getting annoyed and just want me to update new chapters of the ones already posted (which will happen) but I wrote this in one sitting and am super proud of it and couldn’t want to share so here you go!

Summary: all three Archeron sisters are now business owners, which brings about some new faces. Every thing starts out perfect but life likes to throw a curve ball or two. Things are about to get a little complicated but whose to say the sisters have never dealt with complicated before, after all it only helps to find who you truly are, scars and all.

“Shit,” Feyre cursed as she tripped over an unpacked box, almost breaking the bottle of liquor in her hands. She was a few days away from the grand opening of her bar, Stars Eternal and nothing could go wrong.

“Are you okay?” Elain asked from where she was unpacking boxes of glasses. Both Nesta and Elain had come to help her out on their days off, and Feyre was eternally grateful. Both of her sisters had their own businesses to run and most of their time was devoted to maintaining the success they had found. Nesta owned a bookstore a few doors down and on the other side of the road. It was the first Archeron business to open and soon another Evening With Words location would appear on the other side of town.

Elain had a bakery directly across from the bookstore called Floral Desserts. The theme of the bakery was that everything was decorated with flowers and her sister had found beautiful and creative ways to make that work. Due to the uniqueness of her craft the business was increasingly popular over the summer during the wedding season, which they were in the midst of currently.

“I’m fine just missed the box at my feet,” Feyre answered her sister. With that she went back to unloading to copious amounts of beer, liquor, and wine she had ordered to supply her bar. Nesta carried thrings to the back storage room as Feyre filled up the shelves and storage cabinets behind the bar.

Everything was coming together and there was a buzz in the air as she anticipated the opening in a few short days. For years she had dreamed of having her own place, of having some accomplishment to call her own, and here it was. Feyre couldn’t help but smile for the millionth time that day at the joy of finally doing something she wanted. After the years of helping her father pay the bills, barely passing high school with the right grades. After being forced into going to college for two years, then dropping out and being considered a disappointment. She felt happy, truly happy. It was a wondrous feeling.

“You smile anymore and you’ll be stuck like that,” Nesta said as she came out of the back storage. She had a broom and dustpan in one hand and was rolling a garbage can in the other.

“As opposed to a permanent frown like yours?” Feyre teased with a satisfied smirk on her face. Her oldest sister had always been especially hard on her. She would get on her for staying up all night and falling asleep in class, though it was because she was too busy keeping their family under a roof during the day. Nesta didn’t talk to her for months after she left college, saying that she was tarnishing their mother’s memory. Eventually they found common ground after their experiences with their exes came to light.

“You aren’t starting a fight are you?” Elain asked coming over to join her sisters. She dumped an arm full of tape from opening boxes into the waiting trashcan before looking between her younger and older sister. As the middle child she was the barrier between the two hot headed women. Though she wasn’t always happy being the voice of reason it was worth it in the end to keep her family together. Even more so now that their father had passed away a few short months ago.

“Don’t worry Lainey we’re just teasing,” Feyre said as she wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders, hugging her close. All three of them turned to take in the space, from the long bar at the center of the floor, to the booths placed along the walls of the building, and the wide open dance floor all around them. It was a quirky layout but it was everything Feyre had ever imagined.

“I hope you're not regretting this decision because I don’t think there’s any going back now,” Nesta said as she crossed her arms over her chest. Despite the tough love in her words Feyre could sense that her sister was proud of her. Knowing it and feeling it are two different things and Feyre smiled again as she felt it.

“Nope,” Feyre said as she released her sister and turned to grab her stuff behind the bar. “In fact I think it’s time to get some food and celebrate.”

“Anyone else in the mood for chinese?” Elain asked as the three Archeron sisters walked out of the bar. Feyre turned to lock it up as her sisters discussed food options.

“I think that sounds perfect,” she said grabbing both her sister’s hands and heading down the street to order chinese at their favorite restaurant. The whole way Feyre found herself unable to stop smiling.

___

“Come on Cassian we’re getting impatient!”

“We? I think it’s just you Rhysand!” It was true Azriel was perfectly content waiting another hour for their brother, but Rhys wanted to get out of this apartment. He wanted to go out and get a little drunk and maybe find a girl to take home later. None of that was going to happen though if Cassian didn’t hurry up and get his ass out of his room.

“How long does it take to pick out a shirt that will end up ruined anyways?” Rhys called back. His brother had a habit of being a messy drunk, meaning the alcohol ended up all over him but somehow he still managed a hangover the next morning.

“Who says I’m looking for a shirt!” Cassian called back. This time both Rhys and Azriel rolled their eyes at their brother. For some unknown reason Cassian had always decided to act like a girl before going out, meaning he took a whole century to get his hair right before getting dressed in five minutes.

“Just put it in a bun if you don’t know what to do. That’s what you do most days anyways,” Azriel pointed out as he typed on his phone. For the past few days Rhys had noticed he was doing that more often, getting sucked in by his phone.

“When we get there I’m ripping that phone out of your hands, skin and all,” Rhys said to his brother just before they finally heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Both of their heads turned as Cassian entered the living room they had been waiting in for the last half hour. He had on an old pair of ripped jeans he always but on after a day at the office. His shirt was gray with a list of characters from The Office listed. The outfit was completed with a pair of boots he wore everywhere and would to his job if he didn’t work at a corporate office. Cassian had chosen to keep his hair down, the dark waves falling to his shoulders, and a grin plastered on his face.

“You ever going to tell us who the girl is?” he asked Azriel with a teasing smirk.

“Yeah,” his brother answered standing up and smoothing out his black shirt. “The day you stop taking as long as my sister to get dressed.” Azriel sent the same teasing smirk back to Cassian but his was more so done in satisfaction.

“I hate you,” Cassian said as he glared at the back of his brother’s head.

“No you don’t,” Az responded as he led the trio out of the apartment and onto the busy streets of Velaris. The city was always crowded and bustling with people but the night life changed the tone. Now instead of hustling and stressed pedestrians trying to get from one place to the other, it was happy and joyful. These were the people that lived and breathed the city of starlight, the people Rhys had grown up loving all his life.

Being the son of the former mayor was not easy, most of the time Rhys hated it in fact. Then he started going to charity events with his mother, helping people and he saw why his father remained in office for so long. Despite not being the best father he was an amazing mayor to the citizens of his city. Most people expected Rhys to take up the mantle after his father passed, but he went the route his mother had led him on. He started his non-profit charity where he made millions every year for five different programs and issues he was passionate about. Rhys lived off the money in his trust fund thanks to the long legacy of his family and remained CEO of hotel business that was passed down by his father’s family. These days however, his sister, Kingsley, ran the business while Rhys assisted when she asked for it.

Cassian actually worked for the business, overseeing the construction of new locations around the world. In a few weeks he would be travelling to Scotland to begin work on their first bed & breakfast which seemed like a popular trend in Europe. Azriel on the other hand was Rhys’s right hand man at the non-profit while also working out of the family owned garage he was raised in.

“What is this place called again?” Azriel asked as they round the corner of their street. Earlier that week Rhys had heard from an employee about a new bar opening up tonight. It was already getting a lot of buzz and had only just opened an hour ago.

“Stars Eternal,” Rhys said having remembered the name because of its uniqueness.

“Whoever the owner is must really like Velaris,” Cassian commented as they followed Az. Rhys chuckled at the comment having thought the same thing the first time he heard the name.

“That only makes it better,” Rhys told his brother. A couple more blocks and the trio were met with a line of people waiting to get into the bar. He took in the sight, a flashing violet sign with the name, a neon sign reading “it’s 5 o’clock somewhere”, and bright red double doors held open by two bodyguards checking IDs. The color didn’t match the black painted brick building, either of the neon signs, or what Rhys could see of the inside. Yet it matched it perfectly.

“Think we’ll be getting in tonight?” Azriel asked as he took in the line of people that kept growing.

“Of course we are,” Rhys said as he laid an arm over each of his brother’s shoulders. “You’re with me.” That being said he dragged the two up to the entrance, a resting satisfied smirk on his lips.

___

Nesta was in a corner booth with Elain as they watched their younger sister work. Feyre was flawless in her movements, as if she hadn’t just opened the bar not even two hours ago. She felt a mix of emotions as she watched, the first being proud. She knew Feyre had wanted something to call her own all her life and now she had it. Despite that overwhelming feeling Nesta also felt worried. She didn’t want her sister’s dream to crash and burn though based on the crowd it seems like that wouldn’t be happening for a while. That worry led to fear of what Feyre would do if her business failed. She would always have a place with Elain and herself if need be, but her younger sister had never spoke of a back up plan to this bar.

“Stop thinking so much you’ll make those frowns more permanent,” Elain said breaking Nesta out of her trance. She looked over to her younger sister who had her own expression of worry on her face. She knew Elain and Feyre both believed she thought too much, but Nesta couldn’t help how her brain was wired.

“I’ll always worry about both of you,” Nesta said looking at her sister, straight into those brown eyes. “That’s my job,” she turned back to watch Feyre, who was currently mixing a drink and talking to a customer.

“She won’t fail you know,” Elain said knowing that was exactly what was on her sister’s mind. “She’s an Archeron and not likely to give up even when she hits a roadblock.” Nesta knew that was true, hell she had hit her own bumps in the road and overcame them.

“Doesn’t make me worry less,” Nesta said. She stood up to go to the bathroom before Elain could see another word, which she knew she would based on how her lips started to part. She sighed as she watched Nesta go, wishing there was something or someone in Nesta’s life that would break down the walls her sisters never could.

She was heading for the back exit when someone bumped into her, someone with a fresh drink based off the sticky liquid that was flowing down her shirt. Nesta gasped at the contact while the other person swore under their breath.

“Shit I’m sorry,” a deep voice said before setting the rest of his drink on a nearby table. Her blouse would be stained if she didn’t get home soon to clean it. Feyre had warned her against wearing it but Nesta had wanted to prove nothing would happen to it. She should’ve listened to her sister.

“It’s fine,” she said stopping the man from reaching out with paper towels she hadn’t even seen him get. Looking up she met a pair of hazel eyes belonging to a tan and fit man. His hair was down to his shoulder in black waves, that looked blue when the light hit him right. His shirt had a cast of characters she didn’t recognize listed and his jeans were adorned with holes, the hem tucked into an old and worn pair of boots.

“I really am sorry. Someone knocked my shoulder and I lost my balance,” he said for all the world sounding like he had just run over her cat.

“Seriously it’s fine I might be able to get the stain out,” Nesta explained as she took the paper towels from his still outstretched hands. Those hands were big she noticed as they rested against his sides, so large they would swallow her frail ones. She had a feeling they were covered in calluses, he looked like a man that wouldn’t mind living off the land. If a zombie apocalypse ever came she would want to be at this stranger’s side.

“I’m Cassian,” he introduced after a beat or two of silence. He stuck out a large hand again for her to shake, and just as Nesta had suspected it swallowed her own.

“Nesta,” She didn’t know why she was still standing her talking to him. It was something she never did, talk to strangers. She hated repeating introductions, it was something Elain enjoyed though Nesta never puzzled out why. Despite her distaste for new people she felt a pull to him, and a weight in her shoes keeping her in front of him, and some unknown confidence forcing her to keep a conversation.

“Well Nesta sorry about the spill,” he gestured to the front of her blouse. “I can let you borrow my jacket if you plan on staying longer.” Nesta wasn’t planning on staying longer, in fact she was about to leave before his drink found her skin.

“That would be great. I’d hate to run out on my sister during her grand opening.” She was rambling, Nesta never rambled. Something had possessed her, a demon who found pleasure in making her talk to Cassian. The same Cassian that was now taking the leather jacket off his back and resting it on her shoulders. She slipped her arms into the sleeves being overcome by warmth and a woodsy outdoor scent that matched this man perfectly.

“Your sister is the owner?” He asked sounding surprised. Nesta hoped it wasn’t at the fact a woman was operating this bar, it would ruin him completely and she didn’t want that.

“That’s surprising?” Nesta asked giving him a look that said he better be honest with her or he might lose a body part.

“I guess I wasn’t expecting you to be related to the bartender,” Cassian said pointing over his shoulder in the direction of where Feyre was standing. She looked over her shoulder and found her sister chatting the ear off of the same customer Nesta had seen her talking to before she left Elain alone.

“Most people don’t until they see our eyes,” she answered, thinking of how the blue-grey coloring was her last connection to both her mother and little sister.

“Can’t really tell with the lack of lighting,” Cassian answered waving his hand up at the ceiling where there was a limited number in lights.

“It is a bar, what else would you expect?” Nesta found herself teasing him, another thing she rarely did even with her sisters. Cassian chuckled, and it was a deep sound she never thought she could want to hear again.

“Very true,” he smiled at her and Nesta smiled back.

“I should go before my shirt is permanently stuck to my body.”

“Yeah you probably are getting uncomfortable.”

“I do have beer all over my chest and it’s not for pleasure.” Nesta didn’t know why she made the comment but it was too late to take it back now. Cassian’s eyes lit up with mischief though she doubted he would make a move unless he knew she truly wanted that.

“You’re into that kind of stuff?” he sounded intrigued by the idea rather than appalled. Nesta’s nippled hardened within her bra, the place between her legs tingling.

“You’ll never know,” she shrugged with a teasing smile. Nesta wanted him to know. She wanted to drag Cassian out of this bar and to her apartment where he could lick the beer off her body, and then other things too.

“Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to say that to a guy?” he teased back and she actually laughed, laughed. She hadn’t done that freely in she didn’t even know how long anymore.

“Who said I didn’t like playing hard to get too.” she was on a roll but it was time to wind it all down and go home so she could strip out of her clothes herself. Though Nesta had a feeling she would imagine her hands as his when she did so. “I’m going to say goodbye to my sisters and then head out.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Cassian offered. He wasn’t ready to leave her side almost as much as Nesta wasn’t ready to leave his. She should say no but she knew that wasn’t on the menu for the night.

“Wait here I shouldn’t be long.” He nodded and she headed to the booth where she had left Elain. She was talking to some guy with long red hair, smiling happily. Nesta had never seen the guy before and was immediately put on edge as she approached the duo.

“Nesta, you’re back!” Elain said as she smiled up at her older sister. “Where’d you get the jacket?” she frowned as she noticed the new piece of clothing Nesta had acquired.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugged the question off and her sister seemed to accept it by the way her shoulders dropped. “I just had a drink spilled on me but it’s no big deal. Anyway I’m headed home so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Elain nodded. “Good night Nesta,” she added as her sister began to turn away. Nesta looked back to return the sentiment but Elain had already turned back to the man next to her. She could only hope the night continued to go well for her.

“Feyre!” Nesta shouted to the new bartender pulling her away from the man she had been talking to most of the night. Nesta looked at him as his gaze turned to her. His eyes were violet, almost matching the color of the building’s sign. His hair had a blur or purple tint to it, but was pure darkness besides that. His skin was the same tone as Cassian’s, maybe slightly lighter but Nesta couldn’t tell in the dark.

“What’s up,” her sister said as she came to the side of the bar Nesta stood at. She was washing a glass with a wet rag. She watched Feyre for a moment before shaking her head and meeting the eyes that matched her own.

“I’m heading out,” she said pointing to the back door where she noticed Cassian stood by still waiting for her. “The hulking body over there spilled his drink on me and now wants to walk me home as an apology.” For some reason Nesta felt more comfortable sharing this with Feyre rather than Elain, maybe because she knew her youngest sister was more experienced with men than the other.

“That also where you got the jacket?” Feyre asked looking from Cassian to her sister with a smirk on her face. She wiggled her eyebrows at Nesta as she set the glass back on a shelf at her feet.

“Yes,” Nesta didn’t see the point in hiding that fact after she had shared everything else with her sister. Feyre smiled brighter, a smile Nesta had never seen directed at her, especially coming from her youngest sister.

“Well good for you sis.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” the male towards the end of the bar chuckled drawing both the Archeron’s attention to him.

“Might want to tell my brother that,” he pointed to Cassian. “I think I can see his boner from here.” He took a sip of his drink with a smile that was really more of a suggestive smirk.

“He’s your brother?” Nesta asked incredulously. “You look nothing alike.”

“Not by blood,” the new stranger explained. “We grew up together along with another one of my friends who seems to have disappeared on me again.” The man turned on his stool looking around the bar, or what he could see of it at least. “Anyone seen a dashing fellow with his face glued to his phone?”

“‘Dashing fellow’?” Feyre questioned using air quotation marks as she said the phrase.

“I’ve been watching a lot of period dramas in my spare time,” he sighed as he turned back to the bar, taking another drink.

“Try reading them when you’re done,” Nesta told him.

“I’ll get a personal list from you.”

“Nesta,” she told him without a second thought. He gave her a quizzical look in response not yet understanding her meaning. “If I’m going to be giving you book recommendations in the future you should know my name.”

“In that case I’m Rhysand, Rhys for short.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake. She noticed his hand didn’t swallow hers as much as Cassian’s had and she kind of hated that it didn’t.

“I should get going,” Nesta said as she pulled her hand back. “The beer is really starting to stick and I’m beyond uncomfortable,” both Feyre and Rhys laughed at that. “Nice to meet you Rhys. Good night Feyre.”

“Try not to wake up your neighbors!” Feyre called out as she walked away. Without turning back Nesta flipped her sister off causing an uproar of laughter from both Feyre and Rhys. she shook her head as she headed for the back door where Cassian waited.

“Ready?” Cassian asked holding an arm out for her. She took and they began their journey without another word.

“I met your brother,” Nesta said as their feet met the sidewalk and the door to the bar closed behind them. “Rhys.”

“I’m sorry about that too,” she laughed at the joke smiling at him.

“Can I tell you something?” Nesta asked as her laughter died down.

“Sure.”

“I’m not usually comfortable with strangers,” she began. “Yet for some reason with you I am. It’s like I met you before.”

“You could have,” Cassian shrugged after a moment. “In another life that is.”

“You believe in that?”

“You don’t?”

“I suppose you might have a point.” Nesta smiled up at him and Cassian smiled down at her. The smiles didn’t disappear the whole way to here apartment, nor when they said good night and he headed home alone. They didn’t fade as both of them wrapped up in their beds and fell into a peaceful slumber.

(Let me know if you want to be tagged!)

92 notes · View notes

rewordthis · 4 years

Text

White Tiled Sorrows

the us from this moment –

1676 words SouHaru SFW

Prologue:

"If there ever was anything that could throw him off, that was probably fate — he vaguely recalls Rin to have argued about that — or maybe, just his luck."

< | [X] | >

[Part A]

… Faded-white, cement bricks on the pavement covering each plane of the road side. Trees, willowy and tall, unlike the ones on his region. A playground a few meters ahead…

"Shit—" he cursed lowly. He's gotten lost— again.

Trying to understand when exactly he had messed up his route, he mindlessly made a beeline towards the small recreational area. The place was nice. If he had to get lost in the city this was a nice area to do so; the sun was stealing in on his face through the trees, a sweet warmth hitting his cheek, down where he sat on one open swing.

It was still a bit chilly outside, considering that it was just a couple days into March. Graduation day was merely a month away, and he had to consider a gift for Gou and go wish to Ai.

'Ai…' thinking back to it, his final year as a high school student was one very fond memory for him. He had simply hoped to see Rin again, but ended up finding a family. Ai, Momo, Uozumi, all of them— they had all accepted him as one of their own. They respected him. Not because of his status as elder, but because they considered him valuable. Him — Sousuke. They didn't try to dissuade him or look down on him when they had him found out. Quite the contrary, they took him in, they enveloped him with gentleness and comfort and made him their unrivaled, unyielding hero. They gave him their strength. And filled him with new hope.

He owed them so much. So— so much.

A brazen cheering pierced through in the background, effectively bursting his bubbling thoughts.

He turned to the side to eye a cluster of children, flowing out from a place somewhere behind him.

His mind was clear. Lucid as for the very first time after eons. No troubles. No pretense. He suddenly felt a tug at his lips. He was smiling, wasn't he?

If Sousuke could see himself at that moment, he would swore he didn't know this person.

Soft eyes— shining, tender expression, an almost smile. Something familiar and fond and very nostalgic pulling at his heart. It felt horribly out of character for something this sappy to bloom out of him. Made him feel so out of place. So empty…

<<Growl>>

'hungry?'

Without much thought to it, Sousuke got up from his swing that clang noisily from the quick flurry of his movements, and headed in the opposite direction from where the echoes of cheering still reached him. He didn't ventured too far from where he had been, and he found himself standing in front of a communal pool.

There were some kids that had yet to leave the premises, blabbing energized about this and that.

He didn't plan to, in fact he had wanted to turn around and leave once his curiosity was sated, but his feet carried him all the way to the entrance.

He found himself taking a quick glance of the time table attached to one of the door leaves, as he pushed behind the other.

[ Friday: 13:00 - 14:30 elementary students practice

14:30 - 20:00 public hour ]

He didn't even checked his watch as he noted that -something- had held those kids back for at least half an hour after their class. It was, currently, 15:15. He knows this much because he saw the time when he exited the station at 14:30 sharp and then again at 14:45 when he sighed for the umpteenth time that evening as he had lost his way.

He trod in along the entrance hall, taking in the poster-covered walls; practice notices, open invitations to past events, warnings and rules for the public and swimmers, a plaque of the buildings’ name, the founding day and the donor that had obviously put his money in the project. It was a small golden plate with neat kanji, that Sousuke couldn't find it in him to actually bother to look at. He just moved ahead.

Pushing open the double steel doors, each with a stained glass the shape of a hemisphere and a long cylindrical handle attached from top to bottom, he had felt at ease. Now, driving through another pair of doors; wooden this time and much lighter, rectangular semi-transparent panes on each panel giving little to none of what was going on behind them, he found himself buzzing with excitement. He couldn't remember when was the last time he'd felt this way. It seemed so bizarre to have all this energy all of a sudden, 'cause — wasn't he hungry?!

Upon entering he was greeted with all too many people, ranking on all ages. Young men and women enjoying the water or moving around in a relaxed manner, the elderly sitting along the benches that lined the walls, 3-year-olds that were taking their first swimming lessons from their proud parents in the kiddy pool and some slightly older ones too. And on the far end towards — what Sousuke assumed — the locker rooms, were a deep pool not quite the size of an Olympic one but big all the same, that bustled busily with chattering and splashing. A ring of spectators was circling the pool, children cheering excitedly and younger people staring amazed from the sidelines.

Sousuke stood. In the middle of the slippery tiled floor, that looked like an artificial divide between the two clashing energies in this confined space, he stood. He examined the cheering bunch, detecting the fine sound of rhythmical sloshing through water.

Someone was swimming there — a kid maybe?

(But not quite.)

He doesn't really have the time to act of his own as a kid sprints past him — and he follows it with his eyes to where it meets with a middle-aged woman, his mother, he notes — and now is quickly running in his direction again, only, the kid is loosing his footing for a moment and Sousuke reaches out one big hand and grabs him. He looks surprised — if not stunned — as if he hadn't noticed the bulk that Sousuke's sheer size was forming in the space between.

Sousuke looks genuinely surprised himself. He actually managed to catch the kid in time. He didn't think he would…

"Kid…" he started and he felt the boy flinch in his grip. Ah— he's probably intimidating, isn't he; standing almost 10 heads above, he ought to be. So he swallows and drops his tone a notch. He tries again: "kid, it's dangerous to run in the pool—"

As he releases his hold on the boy's arm he notices the distinct forming of fingerprints around the soft flesh. He bites his lip. 'Damn—'

He's got no time to apologize properly before the kid beams up a smile at him and grab a hold of his wrist.

"It's ok! It doesn't hurt. At least I didn't fell, so thank you! Also, I'm sorry for running in the pool…” He says as he drags Sousuke along, to the big pool.

"Both my old coach and my new coach tell me not to run on the wet floor—", he makes a face —indignant?— "… mom, too." He finishes as he steals a glance back to where the woman was moments earlier…

'So that's how it is.' Sousuke notes with a nod of his head. And maybe he's smiling, because the kid is training a curious eye on him now.

This boy reminds him of himself when he was little. Black, short, spiky hair and piercing gaze. But the way he's easy with a guy like Sousuke, brings forth memories of his best friend as well.

"Say, oni-chan, do you swim?"

"Ah, yeah…?" 'How— no shit, idiot! Of course the kid would ask you that. You're in a pool for fucks sake… DUH!'

And the kid appears perplexed for a brief second before he says: "No, I mean— like professionally! You know…"

And Sousuke's brain barely registers the following words as he comes into view of what the formless barrier of moving bodies reveal before his disbelieving eyes…

"… like Haru is!"

And there is positively one Haruka Nanase, gleefully drifting over and under the water with lazy movements, much like a dolphin playing freely — not in a closed off tank, but rather — out in the vastness of the ocean. Happy. Content.

And he hears, as if from somewhere far away on his right…

"Haru swims professionally, but he swims only free!"

And there is a tear at his arm — one that hopefully didn't rip open his stitches (and, could the stitches get ripped when they are already removed by his doctor? Or what?) — and he's inches away from the edge of the pool and the kid next to him is frantically waving a hand at Haru; like a cat trying to catch its masters’ attention and show him the mouse it managed to caught. Like a gift in a show of affection or something.

The kid calls at Haru.

"Haru, this oni-chan over here is swimming too! He's really nice and I think you can become good friends!"

And Nana— Haru, is stilling in his spot, shaking the excess water from his face. His eyes drift to the kid where they trace his hand back over to Sousuke's blank face.

Sousuke can tell he's surprised as well from the imperceptible rounding of his rims in awe, sharp gaze growing lightly wondering.

"Am sure you'll like him!" The kid says as he finally releases Sousuke to dive into the pool, moving close to Haru.

The man is still looking at the stone effigy that is Sousuke. Sousuke finds his lingering gaze growing even more unbearable as he lowers himself in the water, the majority of his features hidden in the shimmering liquid, his eyes alone striking with a strange glow.

And surely enough, Sousuke can hear a familiar voice from half across the earth, laughing in mirth at him and his misery… ‘just shut up, Rin!’

Because…

'Shit—' (now he wants to swim?)

…

[End of Part A]

••••••••••••••••

A.N.: please do take the world and background/buildings descriptions with a grain of salt, as I've taken some liberties in this story.

< | [X] | >

#souharu #sousuke yamazaki #haruka nanase #free! series #Free!#free! dive to the future #time set #Fic #1676 words #sfw #My writing

3 notes · View notes

kloxbian · 5 years

Text

You’re my Little Secret Chapter One

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: F/F

Fandoms: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan

Relationship: Clarke Griffin/Lexa

Characters: Clarke Griffin, Lexa (The 100), Octavia Blake, Bellamy Blake, Anya (The 100), Mountain Men (The 100)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Forbidden Love, Secret Relationship, Grounder Clarke Griffin, Sort Of, Opposite of slowburn, More tags to be added

Language: English

Words:11603

Chapters (as of 1/28/2020): 5/?

Summary: "Your Skaikru are lousy. They do not care for their people."

"Their criminals, Lexa. They only care about themselves." Clarke leaned back and toyed idly with her knife. "That's why we were sent down here instead of anyone else. We're expendable."

"It doesn't sound like your leaders care very much for their people either." Lexa twirled her own knife in one hand. "I can't say I disapprove of them sending prisoners, but it was not a well-thought-out plan. They sent children. The people will not approve."

"Good. Maybe they'll find better leaders." Clarke tilted her head thoughtfully. "Perhaps they can be convinced to join the Kongeda. You'd lead them better than they lead themselves."

"I'm glad you think so highly of me, but you'd first need to inform your people of our existence. You've had good reason to keep it hidden with the- what do you call them?- delinquents in such disarray, but they must know before the rest come down."

Clarke snorted. "Because they'd be so happy that I've kept an entire population hidden from them."

"We're back, bitches!"

People flood out of the dropship, eager to finally set foot on the Earth they'd only ever imagined. Clarke stepped off the ramp, her eyes scanning the land around them. She couldn't help the grin that stretched over her face and the small laugh that escaped her lips. The sky and the trees and the dirt, the colors were so much more vivid than they'd ever been in the dusty old books on the Ark.

Curse her resourceful mind, Clarke's awe quickly turned to worry. How would a hundred inexperienced teenagers be able to survive on a radiation-soaked earth with no supplies, no idea how to get food or water, and no idea what was even out there? Not to mention that these were teens; they'd rather live in the moment than live past the next few weeks.

Clarke opened up a map fetched from the few supplies they did have. According to the Chancellor, they were supposed to be landing at Mount Weather, where they would find enough supplies to survive and maybe even people. Looking around them, they were not at all on a mountain. Flat land all around the landing site, the only mountains being miles in the distance.

"Lucky we didn't die in a fiery explosion, huh?" Clarke rolled her eyes, turning to raise an eyebrow at Finn. His smile faltered at her blank stare. "What? You not happy we aren't dead?"

"Of course I am, but why don't you ask that to the two people that died in the landing?" She huffed at his idle shrug. "Hey. You see those mountains over there? That's where our next meal is. If we can't make it there soon, we're all going to die anyway." She turns back to where she'd laid out her map, ignoring Finn still hovering behind her.

"Clarke!" Wells appeared over her other shoulder. "I've been through the dropship and assessed what we have. We don't have communication, heat, and not nearly enough to survive the next few weeks. We have to-"

"I know what we have to do," she snapped. "We have to get over to those mountains or we're dead. End of story."

"Woah, woah, you're serious?" Curse these boys, another came up to them from the mob. "We have food. We can find water. What else do we need?"

Wells scowled. "We can't survive off of what we have! They expected us to land somewhere with more resources, not in the middle of the woods!"

"Woah, hey, back off." Another guy strolled up, his walk leaking confidence. "Jasper's not done anything wrong. He just wants to have fun, don't you?" Jasper hesitantly nodded. "See? No need to get so angry. If anything, we should be angry at you, Mr. Chancellor's son."

Wells opened his mouth to protest before the other boy swiped his feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. His one leg was injured in the crash and he went down like a brick. Finn jumped in from the side, stopping the boy's punch. "Hey, Murphy. The guy's got one leg. Why don't you wait until it's a fair fight?"

Murphy glowered. "Sure, whatever."

Clarke watched him stalk away before Finn's voice caught her attention. "So, when do we leave?"

Clarke left camp alongside Finn, Jasper, Octavia Blake, and Monty Green, heading in the direction of Mount Weather. For now, their plan was just to scout out the route to the mountain, not engage just yet. They only had a few hours left in the day and wouldn't be able to make it back to the dropship by nightfall if they tried to reach the mountain.

Clarke held casual conversation with Octavia, Bellamy's younger sister, as they walked, Finn being the lead and the other two boys leading the rear. She'd been trying to recognize any of the plants in the area but none had popped out so far.

Finn froze in front of them, holding up a hand. He beckoned them forward, putting a finger to his lips. Clarke moved down beside him and her breath was taken away. "Holy shit."

"Quiet," Finn hissed, and they sat in silence as the deer grabbed leaves off a bush. Finn shifted forward to get a better view and Clarke winced at the loud crack of a twig beneath his feet. The deer looked up towards them, revealing not a normal head, but a deformed one, a second head stretching out from the first and covered in raw, red skin. It fled and left the group gaping in its wake.

Clarke was only shaken back to reality when Monty slipped away from their group to examine the bush the deer had been eating from. His face lit up and he plucked a leaf from the bush and turned to them. "Berries!"

"Berries?" Clarke stood to move over to him. "Are they edible?"

Monty popped it in his mouth. "Hell yes!"

Clarke snagged one off the bush. It was a little blue sphere with a small petal at its top. She rolled it between her fingers for a moment before reluctantly taking a bite. The flavor burst in her mouth and she had to hold back a gasp. This was the real deal. Not some artificial fruit grown in a metal room, but food that came from the earth and the dirt and the wind. It was extraordinary.

Everyone else enjoyed eating the berries while Clarke opened her pack and began to fill it up with as many as she could find. The corner of her eye wavered and she turned, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of the deer again. Something flickered between the brush and as she leaned forward to get a closer look it vanished, disappearing into thin air. Clarke jolted back in surprise.

"You okay over there?"

Clarke offered Octavia a smile. "I'm alright. I just thought I saw something. It was nothing."

"Mhm," Octavia replied, already filling her mouth with more berries.

Clarke smiled in amusement but couldn't help looking back toward the brush. It was nothing, she told herself. You're just being hopeful.

Hopeful.

Though the berries were appreciated, they weren't nearly enough to live off of. Combined with the fact that everyone else was an asshole, Clarke decided to strike out alone in search of more food. Or maybe that was just an excuse to get out of camp. Either way, she headed out on her own into the uncharted forest. It probably wasn't the best idea, not knowing what was lurking in the trees, but Clarke didn't particularly care. Worst comes to worst, she'll die an easy death of being mauled rather than starving.

The woods were peaceful. Birds chirped as they flitted through the trees, the occasional mouse would scutter into her path, but Clarke much preferred their company to that of other people right now. It was stressful, attempting to corral the unwilling teens. They wanted to party. Wanted to enjoy themselves. What they did not want to do was listen to her. They'd rather follow Bellamy.

Whatever. She'd do this with or without their cooperation.

Clarke rested her hand on the hilt of her knife, tucked into the belt of her pants. She wasn't good with a knife, not in the long shot, but the only gun they had was Bellamys and that was empty of bullets. Her stealth wasn't the best either, but it would have to do.

A bird cawed loudly to her left and she turned just in time to see something peeking around the trees. It was a young girl, somewhere around Clarke's age, with wavy brown hair and tan skin. She froze, her jade eyes meeting Clarke's gaze. Clarke stepped back, blinking, and in that moment the girl vanished.

Clarke rushed forward, looking around the tree and searching the area desperately. That was impossible. Someone couldn't just disappear like that. They had to have gone somewhere, and yet the girl was nowhere to be found.

She was good. Or perhaps Clarke was just going mad.

Nobody had survived the apocalypse. Not on the ground.

Clarke was set.

She was mad.

"You're sure?"

"No." Clarke sighed heavily, resting her chin in her hand. "I have to be going mad, O. No one survived on the ground. It's impossible."

"Well, we aren't dead from radiation yet, so maybe it is possible." Octavia tore at the dried, artificial meat that was a part of the few supplies sent down. They were on their last stock and finally, people were beginning to worry. "Besides, shouldn't we be hopeful? If other people survived, that means we can, too. They might have food."

"We might have food if we could actually make it to Mount Weather!" Clarke scowled, waving away an offering of meat from her friend. "If these people weren't so self-centered we could be surviving rather than slowly dying."

"We aren't slowly dying," Octavia deadpanned. "They were prisoners. This is their first time away from adult control. Let them have their fun."

"They've had their fun. Now it's time for them to stop being lazy asses and do something productive!"

"Bellamy's been taking groups out hunting," Octavia said. "They haven't caught anything yet."

"Of course they haven't. None of us have any clue how to hunt."

Octavia nodded. "My brother thinks he's all high and mighty being in control of these asses. He's getting arrogant."

Clarke threw her a side glance. "Okay. And?"

"You should take his place."

Clarke groaned. "I'm trying to. None of them will listen to me. They think I'll be just like my mother."

"Then show them that you won't. Gain their respect."

"How?"

Octavia smirked. "You need to impress them."

Impress them. Like it was so easy.

Clarke decided at that moment that she was going to learn how to hunt. It would accomplish both of her tasks: get food, impress the delinquents. Win-win. If she could figure it out.

Clarke once again took off alone with her trusty knife strapped to her side. The area around the dropship didn't have much life in its radius, likely because of the scene that both the landing and the occupants had caused. Life was ever so slowly edging closer but not close enough.

Clarke froze as a rabbit hopped into her path. It surprised her, considering she was only a ten minute walk from the dropship, and the last time anything even remotely big had been seen it had been the deer. Clarke sunk slowly to the ground, determined not to miss this chance.

She moved slowly behind it, unsheathing her knife and holding it at the ready. The rabbit looked up from the ground, ears perked, and she stopped all movement, waiting until it looked back down. She edged closer. Only a couple more steps to go. The rabbit looked up again, turned to look straight at her, and bolted.

Clarke cursed under her breath. Had it heard her? Could it see behind it? She didn't know. Something had gone wrong, but she couldn't fathom what. Clarke would like to consider it bad luck, but knew it was otherwise.

She slipped the knife back into her belt, a frown set on her face. How could she ever hope to learn something if she couldn't figure out what mistakes she was making?

"You're too loud." Clarke froze, almost dreading looking behind her. The voice was unfamiliar, one she hadn't heard from the delinquents, but then again, there were a hundred of them. She likely hadn't met them all. She decidedly ignored whoever thought they could do a better job. She heard a snort of laughter. "You're too heavy on your feet. Your breath is too loud. You're unaware of where you're placing your feet."

"Alright, would you stop-" Clarke turned around and felt all the breath rush from her body as her eyes met with a familiar pair of jade orbs.

Chapters 2-5 up on ao3 here.

Second chapter on tumblr here.

#clexa #clexa fanfic #clexa deserved better #fanfiction #you're my little secret

4 notes · View notes