#I have a small hunch that she does despise him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scripturiends · 3 years

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gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Read on ao3

Summary: It was the one time her hunch had been wrong.

In which Han Joonhwi is acting suspicious, and Kang Sol A intends to find out why.

Rating: T

Word count: 3,848

Notes: Title taken from Taylor Swift’s ‘invisible string’: “Time, curious time, gave me no compasses, gave me no signs; were there clues I didn’t see?”

As promised, here is the Solhwi fic that I had hoped to be up before Episode 7 airs. I went straight to work after receiving positive feedback from an interest check post. As I mentioned there, the story isn’t necessarily dwelling on the current timeline, but is, for the most part, still canon-compliant. I totally made up all the legal jargon, so please bear with me. And, like the show, I decided to do ‘cutscenes’ instead of one unilinear fic.

I had a lot of fun with this little project for the past two days, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it :) I’d also love to hear your thoughts, please do send me a message or feel free to comment, it would mean the absolute world to me. Thank you and let’s all look forward to Episodes 7 and 8 this week!

The fic is under the cut. As a sidenote, this fic is un-beta’ed. All mistakes are mine.

Kang Sol A swears she only drifted off for a second.

She had been burning the midnight oil for the past few days, well into the weekend, so much that the tension was radiating into her atmosphere, so much that the heat was starting to get to her head. Her Civil Code paper may not write itself, but neither could she if it took every ounce of her energy just to even sit up. So she plopped down on her bed, head heavy on her pillow, still fighting the urge to doze off.

She blinked, slowly, and as her eyes fluttered at an alarming rate, they eventually closed — just for a moment, I’ll count to ten and then wake up again — and stilled.

Birds were chirping outside her window when her eyes shot open, and that’s how she knew she messed up big-time. She woke with a start, frantically shaking off the books and papers off her person and frisking for her phone, silently praying that she wasn’t too late for her meeting with her project partner Seo Jiho, who she knows absolutely despises latecomers.

Sol A felt something vibrate from behind her, and an incomprehensible sound escaped her lips as she checked her phone. There were mountains of notifications that prevented her from checking the current time: self-set alarms, e-mails from her professors, reminders about today’s meeting with Jiho, and missed calls from a certain Han Joonhwi.

Clearing all of them at once, she finally reads: 9:07 AM. She was supposed to meet Jiho at 9:15. Sol A breathes a sigh of relief, but her momentary celebration is cut short when her phone starts to ring.

Han Joonhwi was calling again.

She didn’t even get a chance to speak yet when the voice on the other end asked, “Breakfast?”

Sol A put him on speaker phone as she packed up her things. “Can’t,” she replied mindlessly. “I have to meet with Seo Jiho and I’m already late. Eat by yourself.”

A few seconds of silence went unnoticed as Kang Sol A zipped up her knapsack and wore it over her shoulder. She finally picked up her phone and switched back to the handset. “Don’t skip breakfast, you hear me?”

Still nothing. “Joonhwi-ah.”

“Walk fast,” was all he said. And then he hung up.

That caught Sol A off guard, but she heeded the advice anyway.

She made it to the study room at exactly 9:13, only stopping by the entrance to catch her breath and tie her hair back into a ponytail. It was silent, so she half-hoped that no one would be there, but half-expected nothing less from Jiho. So she walks in, footsteps heavy, only skidding to a halt when she sees Jiho staring someone down, someone whose back looked all-too-familiar.

“You like her, don’t you?” she overhears from Jiho. “Kang So-”

Jiho suddenly fell silent at the sight of Sol A, and the man opposite him suddenly turned his head towards her. She was right about who it was — it was none other than the person she spoke with on the phone just a few minutes ago.

If Joonhwi was surprised, he didn’t show it.

But Kang Sol A did. She blinked once, and with a hint of dubiousness, she asked, “Who likes who?”

The men shared a look, and she was met with silence again, which was beginning to irk her. But she bit her tongue, took a seat across Seo Jiho, and grinned cheekily at him. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You aren’t...” Jiho replied, trailing off.

“I am by your standards. I know you,” she said matter-of-factly. “For Seo Jiho, ‘on time’ actually means ‘thirty minutes early’. Which means I’m late.”

Sighing wistfully, Sol A added, “I learned that the hard way.”

She locks eyes with Joonhwi momentarily, but he averts his gaze, expression unreadable. Sol A ignores this and tries her luck once more, eyes flitting from Jiho to Joonhwi and back. “Who were you guys talking about?”

This time, almost with no hesitation, Joonhwi finally spoke up. “No one,” he answered. “My roommate was just practicing his cross-examination skills on me.”

He stood up, giving Seo Jiho a final staredown. “They’re very poor at the moment. Help him out, will you?”

Then, without looking Kang Sol A in the eye, he gave her a soft squeeze on the shoulder, and promptly left.

Sol A’s eyes followed Joonhwi’s back, and stayed there even after he left. His touch lingered on her shoulder like a ghost, but instead of comfort, all she felt was fear. Suspicion. Restlessness. That maybe he was hiding something, and whether it involved her or not, she was keen on finding out just exactly what it was.

II.

“I’m telling you, Yeseul-ah,” Sol A insists. “Something’s up with him.”

They link arms, walking past the school entrance and into the lobby. Jeon Yeseul turns to her, hair falling perfectly into place as she lets out an angelic laugh. God, Sol A thinks. Even her laugh is perfect. But past the admiration for her Aphrodite-like features, Sol A feels like she’s being mocked.

She pouts. “You don’t believe me.”

“I do!” Yeseul defends. “You think he likes Kang Sol B.”

Sol A slides her left hand off Yeseul’s arm and holds her friend’s right one lightly. “So why are you laughing at me, then?”

“Unnie.” Yeseul wraps an arm around Sol A’s shoulder. “Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe Joonhwi-oppa likes you?”

Sol A almost choked on her spit. Of course she’s thought about it — after all, she’s a hundred percent certain that it was the name Kang Sol that slipped from Seo Jiho’s mouth a few days ago. But none of the evidence so far points to it being herself. And anyway, it’s not as if he’s shown any interest in Sol A as a woman. In fact, all he does is tease her. And she’s okay with that. And Sol B already likes Joonhwi. And they seem to be a far better fit than Sol A and Joonhwi. And it’s not like she harbors any romantic feelings for him, either.

She pushes the thought away before it could become bigger.

Sol A denies, deflects, and defends. “That can’t be right.”

“Why not?” her friend challenges.

“Why would he be avoiding me if that were true?” Sol A counters.

“People do that when they feel awkward around their crush,” Yeseul rebuts.

This is starting to feel like a game of chess rather than a conversation between best friends. “I think he’s just scared I’ll tell my roommate or something.” Before Yeseul could say anything else, by some stroke of luck, Sol A spots Joonhwi from her peripheral vision, walking past Lady Justice.

Yeseul smiles kindly at Sol A. She doesn’t doubt its genuineness, but she feels like it’s laced with mischief. “Should we test your theory, then?”

What does that mean?

“Joonhwi-oppa!” Yeseul shouts, waving at him from across the room.

She’s not going to ask him, is she?

Yeseul runs to Joonhwi, a light skip in her step. “I have something to ask you.”

Wait.

“Wait,” escaped from Sol A’s lips, barely a whisper before it started registering on her what Yeseul was about to do. And when it does, she finally sprints. “Jeon Yeseul, wait!”

“Oppa.” Yeseul bats her eyelashes at Joonhwi. Sol A was in tow behind her, feeling small but unsure why.

“Oh, Yeseul-ah,” Joonhwi greets. His eyes lit up at the sight of his friend and classmate.

While it pained Sol A to just sit back and watch, knowing that Joonhwi had been purposefully avoiding her, she let the scene unfold, trusting that Yeseul knew what she was doing.

“You haven’t been going to the study group sessions lately,” Yeseul starts.

Sol A hoped it would get a rise out of him, seeing as he was the one who started the group to begin with, but was barely showing up these days. Instead, all he said was, “The pair project in Civil Code has been holding me up.”

Yeah, right, she thinks. A second-round judicial exam passer and a former police academy student having a hard time in Civil Code? Why do I find that hard to believe?

Sol A scoffs, and Yeseul pinches her side. “Sol-unnie and I are meeting the others for lunch. You should come join us.”

“Ah,” Joonhwi drawled out slowly, as if coming up with an excuse to say no. Sol A expects it to be his next move. “I wish I could, but-”

Knew it.

“Kang Sol B will be there,” Sol A blurts out, fully aware that it’s a total lie. Still, she had to try.

Something in Joonhwi’s mood changed, and his face hardened. Still not making eye contact with Sol A, he excuses himself from Yeseul. “I’ll take a rain check today, okay?”

And without another word, he left again, leaving Sol A with the same emptiness that she had felt in the study room the other day.

Yeseul finally turns to Sol A, crossing her arms. “You’re right. He’s being weird.”

III.

A few more days without Joonhwi’s company, and Sol A was starting to feel its ill effects on her. She hadn’t realized just how much she took him for granted until he was no longer around to challenge her ideas, to annoy her over the littlest of things, to calm her down when she’s freaking out, to be her drinking buddy, to be someone she could tell any and every stupid story to, with the utmost confidence that he’ll keep it to himself or that he wouldn’t belittle her for it.

They’d been through too much together now, and even their fateful first meeting all those years ago didn’t faze him from her. In fact, her little scheme, no matter how deceitful at the time, brought him closer not just to her, but to Byeol, her mom, and to an extent, even Dan.

So what changed? What on earth did Seo Jiho say to him, and what on earth did she walk into, that made him close himself off from her? Proximity may not breed familiarity, but right now she wishes nothing more than to be in his orbit again.

Arguably the worst consequence of the lack of Joonhwi in Sol A’s life right now is having no one to eat with.

During one of her all-nighters at the dorm, she found herself with an intense craving for some ramyeon. She removed her earphones, partly to pull herself back to reality, but mostly to ask her roommate to have a meal with her. As if Sol B would say yes, but it was worth a shot.

“I’m going downstairs for a bite. You wanna come?”

No response, as expected from Kang Sol B. Sol A inwardly rolled her eyes, spinning in her chair to tease her roommate, only to find the desk empty.

She scratched her head while walking, wondering where Sol B could be at this time of night. And without a heads up, too… She was getting worried.

But it seems like her concern was all for naught, because Sol B was right where Sol A was headed.

And she was there with Han Joonhwi.

She was laughing. It was the first time that she saw Sol B laugh, maybe ever, and to see that Joonhwi could be someone who could do that for her, made Sol A feel proud. Like knowing Han Joonhwi was a privilege, not only because of the way he could make people comfortable around him, but also because Sol A had once been on the receiving end of it herself.

She should be relieved. In fact, she should be happy. Because it means that her guess was right, which means she doesn’t have to keep digging anymore. She could just tell Joonhwi that his secret’s safe with her, and they could finally go back to the way they were before... Right?

And yet something about witnessing the pair interact as a mere bystander didn’t sit right with Sol A. There’s a pang in her chest that she can’t quite comprehend — maybe she just misses him, or maybe it’s something else completely. Because if Han Joonhwi has feelings for Kang Sol B, and they’re together right now, then that leaves only one explanation: he must be avoiding her, and for a completely different reason.

It was the first time her hunch had been wrong.

Needless to say, Sol A lost her appetite and trudged back upstairs lifelessly, a bitter taste in her mouth and an ache in her stomach that she couldn’t quite place where it even came from.

IV.

Come Friday, Sol A was too exhausted to even think about Han Joonhwi. Between the endless deadlines and papers to write, her job in the copy room, and the Seo Byungju case, her energy had been too depleted and her social battery too worn out to even care that her relationships could be falling apart.

The only thing she has going for her now is the Legal Clinic, the one place where she could bury her nose deep in case digests and law readings and she would absolutely never get tired of it, because it’s the one place where she feels like she’s making a real difference, especially when people’s lives are at stake. It was the remaining part of her life where Sol A felt like she was in control, so these days, all her emotionally-charged passion was focused on this one thing.

But of course that had to fall apart too, when Professor Yang asked for her to stay after class.

He cut right to the chase. “I’ll be meeting with my defense lawyer today so I need you to consult with the client in my stead.”

Count on Yangcrates to always give Sol A a heart attack in under two seconds.

“M-me?” she stuttered.

The professor’s face twitched, ever-so-slightly, which Sol A took as a sign to backtrack and confidently proclaim that she’s up to the task. She knows there’s nothing Yang Jonghoon hates more than a quitter.

“Ah, yes, of course,” she accedes, with a little more verve.

He nods once in her direction. “And take Han Joonhwi with you,” he commanded.

She’s doomed. Not that she wasn’t doomed before, but now that Professor Yang had to drag her personal life into this, she was really in shambles.

Sol A clears her throat. “With all due respect, Sir,” she laughs nervously, “don’t you trust me?”

Professor Yang takes a moment to think about it. Sol A wonders if today’s the day she finally gets a definitive answer. But Yangcrates is as sly as ever. “This is your chance to get back at him for the Bad FaMa case. Make him your assistant this time.”

He walks away, leaving Sol A dumbfounded once again, but not before he adds, “Under my orders, of course.”

Sol A’s knees buckled at the thought. Normally, she would find this predicament to be absolutely funny, a chance to bicker with Joonhwi and learn something from him at the same time. But he’s angry at her, and she doesn’t even know why, and even merely approaching him has turned into a problem.

Everything in Sol A’s life right now is a problem. She wonders if it's getting Joonhwi back that would fix everything.

Upon leaving the classroom, she spots him getting a drink from the vending machine. She has to slap herself twice, just to mentally prepare herself, to muster up the courage to approach him again.

“Come on, Sol,” she whispers to herself. “This isn’t hard.”

Shaking off the nerves, she takes a step forward, but in a momentary state of weakness, takes another step back. “So what if he’s mad? That’s his problem. I’ve never given him a reason to be angry. He should suck it up. Not me. Come on. Just do it.”

A step forward.

“Just do it.”

A step back.

“Goddamn it.”

One final step back to boost herself forward, and she’s running towards him, pretending to be as casual as possible. “Han Joonhwi!” she calls out to him.

His eyes widen at the sight of her, knowing he has nowhere to escape.

“Did you get my text? Professor Yang needs our help at the Legal Clinic.” She smiled at him. “Let’s go.”

Joonhwi scratched the back of his head, and Sol A just knows it’s about to be another lame excuse. “I can’t. I’m meeting Sol B for our Civil Code term paper.”

He can’t even look at her, and Sol A wonders just how bad she had hurt Joonhwi for him to feel like this towards her. But that only lasted for a second, when she realized just exactly what he said. Then, her pity turned into irritation, as she accused, “Liar.”

Sol A crossed her arms, and glared at Joonhwi. “Did you forget that I’m her roommate? She went home today.”

Sol A sat across Joonhwi inside the Legal Clinic, her eyes narrowed to slits. A profound silence enveloped the room, interrupted only by a sharp inhale from her.

“You like Kang Sol B, don’t you?”

The only response she got was Han Joonhwi’s signature smirk, playful and taunting, one that said, ‘You don’t know me, and you never will’.

She hated that.

She slammed a hand on the table, and pointed at him accusingly. “Don’t look at me like that. I would have kept your secret if you just asked. Is that why you were avoiding me? Because you think I’d tell her or something?”

The same smile painted on his face, Joonhwi exhaled defeatedly. “Kang Sol A, I thought I taught you to never make any claims with unfounded bases.”

An eyebrow perched up on Sol A’s end. “It’s not unfounded,” she argues.

“Where’s your evidence, then?” he dared her.

Sol A had been waiting for this. She listed everything he had ever done — or refused to do, which was spend time with her, speak to her, or even look at her, which was absolutely the bare minimum — since the incident with Seo Jiho up to this very moment.

He waves his hand dismissingly. “That’s all speculative.”

If his goal was to rile her up, then it’s definitely working. “Then what about what I heard Seo Jiho tell you that one time? And most importantly, you straight up lied to my face.”

“Circumstantial,” he quips. “That would never hold up in court, especially not when the only witness is yourself. How are you going to be both the defense lawyer and the sole witness?”

Han Joonhwi should be at the edge of the precipice here, and yet he has managed to flip the situation over and turn it into an interrogation for Kang Sol A.

Nothing can hide her frustration anymore. “I would never be the lawyer in my own case. Look, it’s still evidence. You asked, and I gave it. Seriously, Han Joonhwi, what’s with you?”

Instead of a direct answer, he points out, “You rely on your emotions too much.”

Almost immediately, she shoots back, “And you rely on the law too much. This isn’t a courtroom. This is a human conversation.”

He purses his lips, unable to say anything, and Kang Sol A continues. “You’re too stubborn.”

“And you’re too nosy.”

“You’ve benefited from it more than once.” Sol A’s patience is getting thinner by the second. “Can’t you just tell me what I did so that I can either apologize for it or call you out for being wrong?”

“You and Sol B are hardly friends. What reason would I have to be afraid?” Amusement gleamed in Joonhwi’s eyes; Sol A was astounded by how he could stay so nonchalant about this. “Think.”

She glared at him, but still ceded. Damn his tenacity. “Fine, I’ll play along.”

She rolled her eyes, and in a blasé manner, started to think out loud. “I overheard Jiho ask you if you liked Kang Sol, and then you started avoiding me. Yeseul asked you to join us for lunch, and when I said Sol B would be there, even though she really wasn’t, you declined. So I thought it was her that you liked. But it doesn’t make sense, because I saw you two hanging out at the cafeteria that one night-”

His arrogant expression changed to one of shock. “You did?”

“-and then you straight up lied to me about your plans. Unless you two are already dating-”

“We’re not,” he interrupts once more. Sol A eyes him with suspicion. “We’re not,” he repeats indignantly.

“-it could only mean that you do like Kang Sol…”

Joonhwi starts slowly nodding, face a little flushed, but somehow urging her on to continue.

“...just not B. You like-”

“Kang Sol A.” Professor Yang enters the room, calling out her name.

She’s sure her professor asked her to do something, but she was unmoved. At this point, she doesn’t think anything could pull her out of her reverie for the rest of the day.

A veil that covered her eyes was lifted, and she had never been so pitiful of the blindfold that Lady Justice wore. The scales Kang Sol A carried, as heavy as the burdens she was facing, balanced with Han Joonhwi holding them up with her. She wanted nothing more than to take his hand right at that moment, to feel the heaviness in its entirety, and thank him for staying anyway.

They don't talk for the rest of the day, but Kang Sol A is unbothered.

Her questioning attitude may have always gotten her in trouble in school, but this was the one time she was glad to be wrong.

Epilogue

Han Joonhwi fell asleep on his desk again.

He normally finishes up all his revisions early, but because of his agitation, the cold table seemed to be more inviting than the bed, where he simply ends up tossing and turning.

Despite the stiff neck it was bound to cause, he’s been doing it for days, only being woken up by his constant 8:30 alarms. This time, however, it was his gracious roommate Seo Jiho who finally interrupted him from his slumber.

Jiho slammed a sealed instant ramyeon pack on Joonhwi’s desk. He groggily looked up at his friend, whose hair was still disheveled, and asked, “What’s this?”

“It’s from Kang Sol A.” Before walking away, he deadpanned, “Do your own bidding next time. I’m not your messenger.”

Joonhwi took the cup ramyeon, spotting the bright yellow sticky note on it, not unlike the ones he’d put on Sol A’s notebook, or occasionally, her forehead. He smiled to himself as he read the message, walking out to heat up some water for breakfast, but not before carefully displaying the note on his bulletin board for the whole world to see.

Han Joonhwi,

For a second-round judicial exam passer, you can be so dense.

I like you back, you idiot.

Now stop sulking and have breakfast with me.

Idiot.

Send me your thoughts/fic requests here!

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light-yaers · 3 years

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Sweet Escape: Chapter Seven

Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: banterous flirting that may or may not crack your teeth, slight injury, alcohol, and OSCAR FUCKIN ISAAC

A/N: Honestly this is a bit of a filler, but I was having too much fun writing Poe and her's interactions that I simply couldn't stop. I didn't want to have such a large chapter, so I stuck with this little filler just for funzies. They do be getting closer doe....

Find the Masterpost here

Word Count - 2.5k

Chapter Seven: Blush

The first feeling upon gaining consciousness was ouch. Even opening your eyes made your muscles throb. The slow realisation that you were in the base’s med-bay, lying in a bed, came to you in waves. First, you let out an internal groan. Then, you let out an actual groan, as you tried to hoist yourself up to a sitting position.

Your body objected, rushing your limbs with an aching sort of pain that felt like you’d been training for 48 straight hours, but nevertheless you managed to sit up. The bay was quiet and collected, like a library, and only a few beds were actually occupied.

You felt her before you even saw her—Leia strolled round the corner then, eyes fixing upon you instantly. She gave you immediate comfort, despite your internal bruising and the anxiety that had started to bubble within your gut when you thought about what you’d just done.

The cat was out of the hypothetical bag. Your Force abilities weren’t just known now; you’d given the base an entire fucking demonstration. Brilliant.

“That was quite a show,” Leia said as she approached your bedside. You gave her a tired and half-hearted smile. “Thank you,” she added, and the seriousness in her voice was apparent. You nodded at her in response, not yet knowing what you could even say.

There was a silence that radiated from her—an intelligent and knowing quiet that told you all you needed to know; if you hadn’t of done what you did, many would have died. The base would have been all but destroyed.

“Are you okay?” she asked then, trickling her kind words over you softly.

“I feel like I’ve been punched all over my body, repeatedly,” you let out. A small scoff burst from her lips.

“I understand. The Force takes a lot out of you,”

“You could say that again,” you replied, testing out the movement of your arms. You stretched them out slowly, and your elbows clicked noisily. “Is everyone okay?”

“Some are more shaken up than others, but everyone’s just fine. Thanks to you,” Leia said, raising her brows at you in understanding. “Dameron’s waiting outside,” she added, causing you to whip your gaze to her suddenly. You let out a groan in pain as you brought a hand to rest on your stiff neck.

“Dameron?” you winced. Leia only nodded.

“I’ve never seen him be so proactive. He carried you here after you collapsed,”

You looked to your lap, overcome by a feeling half-way between wanting to vomit, and wanting to smile. Sure, you’d just revealed your gift and saved the damn Resistance, but you’d fainted afterwards—embarrassment wasn’t something that you dealt with well, as much as you shouldn’t have cared.

“Great,” you whispered to yourself. Leia let out another comforting chuckle, before placing a reassuring and gentle hand on your shoulder. You looked at her then, not even trying to cover up the absolute fear and anxiety on your face. Leia could feel your Force; she would have known your true feelings even if you had the strength to try and hide it from your expression.

“Shall I tell him to come back later?” she asked, but you were already shaking your head.

“No, no. He can see me,” the confidence in your tone was more prominent than you’d expected it to be, but maybe it was because it was him. It wasn’t Heidi or Lynx, who, as much as you liked them, were still closed books. Poe, though—

You already shared a room. What was one more?

Leia left after giving you a small nod. You took the few seconds it took her to leave the med-bay to mentally prepare yourself. You needed a nap, or ten naps, and you needed to keep it together. You’d never used your Force this way, nor had you been expecting to. The entire situation was a lot to take in.

But everyone was fine. You were fine. And that’s all that mattered.

Poe bound in before you could even slide yourself up the bed to lean against the wall. The first thing you noted about him was his expression; it wasn’t what you’d been expecting. His eyes were wide, his brow dotted with sweat, his shoulders hunched and tense and rigid. Maker forbid, the pilot was scared.

He grabbed a chair on his way over and sat down on it immediately, tucking himself in next to your bed as you fumbled with sitting.

“I’m fine, Dameron,” you said, as an involuntary chuckle escaped your lips.

“You sure?” he questioned, just double-checking. You nodded at him firmly, and then he visibly relaxed. He let out a large sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair and wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. “Had us worried there,”

“Had you worried,” you replied, shooting him a smile. It felt good.

“Hey, you’re the one that blacked the fuck out,” he let out, and you bit on your tongue as a wave of anxiety rushed through your gut. Dameron’s demeanour changed then, as an understanding settled onto his face. “Why didn’t you tell me you could use the Force?”

You swallowed uncomfortably, knowing that he’d obviously have questions. “Don’t take it personally. I haven’t told anyone before,”

“Why?” he repeated, looking at you with those big pretty boy eyes and delving deep into your damn soul. You didn’t realise just how hard it would be, being put in this position, but it was your own doing. You’d chosen to act.

“It was always easier to keep it a secret, okay? I wasn’t planning to ever use it in front of any of you, but—,” the breath hitched in the back of your throat as the image of the hurtling TIE hit your mind.

“The TIE followed Green-Two through hyperspace. It got hit and entered the atmosphere,” Poe explained. “They didn’t have time to realise what was happening and destroy it from the sky,”

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling overexposed and vulnerable and all of the feelings that you hated.

Your brain pelted thoughts at you then, as you tried to keep it together. It told you that everyone would look at you differently, even though you were all fighting for the same thing. It told you that you’d only become the brunt of another joke, that everything you despised about cadet life like this would be all-encompassing.

It told you that pilots would look at you like you had an unfair advantage; like you didn’t work to become as skilled as you were. It told you that Poe would think the same.

You fiddled with your fingers as Poe’s stare stayed glue to the side of your face. You didn’t want him to see that you were almost trembling, so you sucked it up. You forced yourself to perk up, to put on a blunt face, to ignore how close to screaming you were.

“I understand if you choose to take me off Black squadron,” you said plainly. Poe’s expression changed quicker than you could blink.

“Why the hell would I take you off my squad?” he replied. His squad.

“Unfair advantage and all that shit. Like I cheated or something,” you replied. Poe shifted in his chair and clenched his jaw.

“Did you use the Force on rank day?” he asked plainly. You immediately furrowed your brows at him, slightly angry.

“Fuck no. I don’t use it when piloting. I never usually use it—,”

“Then why the fuck would you take you off my squad, Ten?” he repeated, sterner this time. You let his words sink through your skin as you focused on calming your raging emotions. You were torn between kicking a wall, throwing a chair or crying on the floor like a baby. All three options sounded appealing to you.

“Even if you did use the Force to fly, I wouldn’t change your rank,” he added. “You’re a fucking good pilot. That shit can’t be learned just because you possess the Force. Unfair advantage my ass, Ten,”

The blush crept into your cheeks before you had the chance to look away. Poe’s lips curled into a small smirk—his most punchable expression. You had to speak away the tension before it consumed you.

“Can you go back to teasing me or horrendously hitting on me, now? All this mushy stuff is insufferable. It’s not like I fucking died,” you let out, trying to subvert his gaze away from your blotched cheeks. This was the second time the pilot had made you blush today—you didn’t want it to become a fucking daily occurrence.

You froze when Poe’s fingers reached out and touched your face. Your stare was upon him in an instant, watching the gentle way his eyes looked from cheek to cheek.

“I call you a good pilot once and you start blushing, huh?” he said lowly, sensually.

He was doing it on fucking purpose.

The redness of your face immediately elevated, but you’d grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm within seconds of taking in his words. He yelped in pain as you twisted his arm over the bed, causing him to stand from the chair and lean forward as you jerked him painfully.

That’s when you grabbed him by the collar, pulling his face close to your own and shooting him with a stare that only communicated one thing—death.

“If you want to keep this pretty boy face then I suggest you tread carefully, Dameron,” you said unapologetically, ignoring the pain in your limbs. Poe started to relax more now that your grip wasn’t on his arm. Hell, maybe he fucking enjoyed being threatened this way, because the smirk didn’t wipe off of his face at all.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re hot when you’re angry?” he said it as clear as day with no hesitation.

You dropped him immediately, causing his upper body to whack onto the mattress and spring back into his chair. He fell back into the chair and almost twisted onto the floor, but he regained his balance as chuckles fell from his lips boyishly. “Hey, you asked for this,” he said, raising his arms defensively at the unamused look on your face.

You pinched the bridge of your nose quickly, clamping your eyes shut as the hammering heartbeat beneath your ribs all but consumed you. “You—you—,”

“I really rile you up, don’t I?” Poe cut you off, crossing his arms smugly as you started to calm down slightly. You composed yourself as best as you could, not removing your angry stare from his pretty boy face. He thrived off of this, that much was certain. But it was true—you had just asked for it.

You just hadn’t expected reacting this way when your guards weren’t all the way up. There was something about being here with Poe, alone, after knowing that he’d been the one to place you on this bed himself, that hit you harder than you’d ever fucking admit.

These weeks hadn’t exactly been easy; being in the Resistance was literally the hardest job in the galaxy; but Poe had been a constant that you were only now realising. He was there when you went to bed, he was there when you woke up. His smug face was there whenever the subject of sex arose, or whenever he was ready to push your buttons, but his anger and rage was there whenever someone crossed you, as well.

Maker, it was almost like he cared.

And you weren’t used to that. You weren’t used to that at all.

Apparently, all of your thoughts had just made themselves known through your face, as Poe let out a soft scoff, eating up your expression.

“I’ll take that as a yes. What can I say? There’s no one like me,” he spoke so easily, so happily and upbeat. You could tell he was just trying to tease you more, but he was right.

“There is no one like you,” you repeated his words, jaw clenched. It wasn’t a compliment, and he knew that.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Poe said, waving his hand in the air. He leaned forward then, perking a brow at you questioningly, overly confident to the point that you were almost jealous of how open he was. “Does this mean there’s a tiny, minuscule, microscopic part of you that actually likes me?”

You rolled your eyes immediately, as you began to twist your legs to dangle over the side of the mattress. You placed your feet on the floor gently, applying pressure to them to see if you could stand.

Poe stood quickly, pushing back the chair as he got out of your way. You stood, leaning against the bed for subtle support, but other than the aches and internal bruises in your muscles, you were just fine.

“Don’t hold your breath, Dameron,” you said, as you started to stroll towards the med-bay exit. Dameron was at your side, cautiously staying close while also somehow keeping his distance. He was hyper-vigilant to make sure you weren’t about to fall.

When you both reached the door, Poe gently took hold of your forearm. All prior playfulness was gone from his face. “Thank you, for stopping the TIE. A crash like that... it would have ruined us,” he said sincerely.

“We’re all fighting for the same thing,” you replied. “I’m glad I could be of service,”

He smiled at you genuinely, and you couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your gut from spreading all over your body. As much as he teased and toyed and you had this back and forth; somewhere between hatred and likeness and flirting and fighting; you were both fighting the same war, performing the same jobs, living the same life.

He nodded once, before the two of you made your way down the corridor slowly. He stayed at your pace, not complaining as you got used to your creaky and stiff limbs or winced at the way your body pulsed with every step.

“So, no chance of a beer tonight, then?” he spoke up, perking a brow at you. You perked one back at him as an unexpected smirk curled onto your lips.

“I exposed my Force abilities, moved a crashing TIE with my mind and blacked the fuck out today. I think I’ll take a fucking beer,” you said. Poe chuckled to himself and you couldn’t help it when you joined him.

Slowly, he brought his arm to wrap around your shoulders. He shoved you into his chest playfully, just once, before gently pushing you back and removing his grip from you. “That’s what I wanted to hear,”

You and Dameron headed for the dorm together, shoulders often swiping against each other. Tension still hovered in the air, but it was as if both of you were slowly getting used to it. Maybe that was something that should have been scary to you, but when your Force wrapped itself around Poe when you both entered your dorm, exposing the gentle and fond way he was thinking of you—

All you felt was peace.

@foxilayde @onceuponathreetwoone @ecuadorlady @voidmalfoy @20th-centu-fairy-girl @frickfrackpattywhacktictac @baueoud @300nightmare003 @lilitrth @salome-c @youre-a-wallflower-charlie

I know this chapter is a bit short, but when I tell you big these are coming then please believe me.... get ready. <3

#poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #fanfiction #oscar isaac #x reader #reader insert #flirty banter #smut and angst #hurt and comfort #ao3 #wattpad #star wars fanfiction #star wars #star wars ff #star wars sequels #lightyaers #archive of our own

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hit-me-with-a-ladle · 3 years

Text

Ch.11 Creepypasta x Fem! Reader

Four days had passed since their first brawl. Toby had observed her staggering improvement and powerful determination to learn. He hadn't seen that kind of behaviour in a long time. As nightfall came they began to clear up and head back. Both tired from the long day of training, Toby walking in front of her as they went on their way. The walk was peaceful, the night sky illuminating from the dense array of trees as the crickets chirped their lullaby. The sky was littered with beautiful stars and the girl couldn't pry her eyes away from them, looking up in amazement like a child on Christmas day. Toby on the other hand wasn't paying any attention to anything around him, with his hands in his pockets and head down, eyes focused on the patchy road ahead.

The walk to the cabin was beginning to feel longer than usual, the air now becoming tense from all the silence, but the girl still didn't bother to speak up as she knew it was futile. Toby was a man of few words, always keeping to himself, there would be days where they would only say two words to each other. This was a drastic change from what she was usually used to with the others, especially Ben. " So." Her thoughts were cut off as she looked at Toby, who had now slowed down and was walking in since with her. " Um yeah." She sighed out, looking ahead both hands in her large pockets. " Ab-about the necklace." He continued still trying to put his thoughts into words. " What about it." Her eyes widened a little, not expecting him to bring that up as she looked at him pulling it out from underneath her jumpsuit and holding the tiny bottle between her rough fingers. " D-di he tells you wh-why he gave y-you it?" He asked in his usual bored tone. " Yeah, he did. It's for safety and protection. He gave it to me almost two weeks ago and I usually wear it most of the day." She answered honestly softly smiling as she looked at the pretty plant inside of it. It calmed her looking at it. " Interesting." He said to himself not wanting her to hear him but she still managed to.

Her eyebrow raised, why was he so interested in the necklace all of the sudden. " So...do you and Ben get along or...?" She said trying to further the conversation while they walked to the cabin. Toby was hesitant with answering the question, as he took a moment to think of the right response to such a subject. " Yes a-and no. But more n-no. I te-nd to avoid that blab-blabbering idiot but h-he has his moment at ti-times. Very few a-a-and in between but st-still there non the l-less," He answered simply glancing at her direction as he did.

The girl was intrigued by his answer, she assumed he despised him as they were the polar opposite. The assumption wasn't unprompted either, as Toby didn't seem to like most people. " But then ag-again, he tries t-to hard. He acts too m-uch like a child. It's frust-rating." He finally finished his thought, looking back at the road and softly closing his eyes as he walked, admiring the cool night air. He hadn't felt this clam in a while, he enjoyed the feeling. So much so as a small smile crept up his lips. It wasn't noticed by the girl standing next to him but he didn't mind.

In the distance, they could make out the cabin, relief washing over both their bodies like a title wave. " Almost there, finally I can rest." The girl announced dramatically, sighing. It made Toby eye her watching her hunched form drag her feet while walking. Almost close to collapsing. He grunted, at this rate they'd reach it till next morning, clearing his throat he hunched down sweeping her off her feet. She was startled by the sudden action as her eyes widened in surprise, now settled in his arms bridal style. " WHAT! What the hell are you doing? Put me down." She shrieked flailing her arms. But it was to no use as she was too tired to do any harm. Toby grunted as she thrashed, waiting for her to stop and when she did, he smiled softly picking up his pace.

The girl was surprised at how he was able to hold her weight, as he looked quite thin, but as her back pressed against his arms she could feel the defined muscle. Toby didn't say anything, he seemed like the extra weight didn't even affect him. She could hear his heartbeat, it was slow and quiet. The soothing rhythm made her relax even further melting into his arms. They finally reached the cabin, but Toby didn't bother to put her down, no he managed to open the door with her in his hands and she barely noticed. Walking inside, warm air hit his face making him sight. Going to the living room he carefully set her down on the couch and stepped away.

The girl sat upright, her whole body resting as she softly smiled. It had been a while since she could get some rest. Toby had walked to the kitchen slowly lowering his mask and pouring himself some water, looking into the living room while he drank it. He could see the back of the girls head. " Did you also have to train as I do?" The girl's voice broke his peaceful trance. He cleared his throat pondering on his answer as he usually did. " Not r-really." He simply said rinsing the cup and putting it back into the self. " What do you mean by that?" She perfused, wanting to know him better. " Well," He sighed putting his mask back to place and walking towards her, sitting down on the armchair next to the couch. " You have y-y-your duties so you ne-need a different type of trai-ning and mentors. M-my mentor was much wo-worse than we a-a-are."

The girl let out a snort when hearing the last part, looking at him with a curious look. " Really, how so?" " He i-i-is a being co-comprised of pure e-evil so you could imagine it your-yourself." " Pure evil? Is this the Operator man everyone is talking about?" " Bingo." Shed started to get frustrated by how short his answer always was, shed has to ask multiple different questions to know the smallest thing. " What's up with this Operator fella? If he's so powerful why does he need a human guarding his forest?" " Easy. A human is a b-b-basic, morally grey, being. F-for example, you we-were chosen be-because you weren't all t-that good bu-but not all that bad, in the mi-ddle aka The middle-man. So it d-doesn't matter how po-powerful h-he is if there's no real ba-lance in the fo-forest and your j-j-job is to hold that balance." He finished taking a big sigh and slouching on the couch, making it clear that he didn't feel like talking anymore. Soon he would fall asleep.

The girl watched him thoughtfully, eventually getting up. They had finished a little earlier than usual, at this time she would be heading back to eat and then go to bed but something was telling her to look around the cabin, something she wasn't able to do. There were no bookshelves. Its walls were all very sterile and plain. Same for the kitchen. But something in her gut was telling her to go up the stairs, slowly approaching the railing she sighed, with every careful step she would look behind her to make sure Toby was asleep. Reaching the final step she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, the narrow hallway felt longer than before, and she felt strange not immediately heading to the left.

Turning her body to the other side of the dimly lit hallway at the end was a door, she hadn't noticed it before. ' Was that there?' She asked herself approaching it and reaching for the gold knob. The door was painted in a thick layer of black paint, scratches and carving covering its whole surface, one of the larger carvings was crossed out circle. A chill when up to her spine when she noticed it quickly pulled back her hand. Taking in another harsh breath and mustering up the courage she turned the knob, but it didn't budge. She pressed her whole body on the door and began to push but it still wouldn't work, finally, she got frustrated and began to hit and thrash the door handle. But it still didn't move, so she had to reluctantly give up.

There was something important they were trying to hide and she made it a point to find out what it was.

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lysmune · 3 years

Text

Hoarfrost Heart

Human still

Pairing: KaeLumi CW: Kaeya has an anxious breakdown near the end, and a lot of this fic deals with his trauma of not opening up to people.

Blood is a loyal follower to Kaeya’s truths, a faint whisper that reminds him of everything that could—has—happened if he slivered an inch of his thoughts. It is the scent of iron he could never wash out, not from the thin line of death across the necks of so many people, not from his hands, nor from the soles of his feet, split open as he walks across the evergreen growth of thorns, fed fat from his deceit.

These are only skin deep, is how he convinces himself as he tucks the unease behind a veiled smile that pinches his cheeks. Flesh wounds will heal but honesty, baring an unguarded heart out upon his sleeve, is a dangerous game and Kaeya has no desire to tempt mortality again.

One narrow escape is enough.

Sweet words, sweeter lies, he offers those instead. They always repay him in trust, a valuable currency he never quite could give away, so he sacrifices what spare human feeling he has for the pristine beauty of a white winter when he responds. Clean, untainted, pure.

It is easier to deal with the disease that is loneliness than a knife to the back.

A laid-back, duty-shirking cavalry captain, whose dull seaward lineage is made riveting through ten rounds of Death After Noon. That is who Kaeya is.

That is how he introduces himself to Mondstadt.

That is the image he’ll set in the starlit traveller’s mind.

That is who she, with unabashed vocality, politely refuses to believe.

Lumine chalks it up to the vagueness of a hunch, and he can’t help but roll his eyes, click his tongue. Sure, he might enjoy throwing the same reason around, but it feels like complete nonsense to have it flung back at him. He pouts, intentionally puppy-like and innocent, and pleads with a tone of feigned hurt.

Lumine laughs.

Laughs and looks at him with topaz-cut eyes, eyes like honeyed spring water. Kaeya can’t decide whether he should feel offended at her subtle dig, or honoured that he’s made her smile. He settles on brushing it off with a shrug and a, “Well, you’ve got me there.”

“I know,” is Lumine’s response, a simple phrase that holds much more depth than it lets on, and he wonders if she’s seen just what it is he’s truly hiding.

The prospect sends chills down his spine. Does she know me, more than I do?

Kaeya drowns those fears in the tavern, his local safe haven, a place away from his worries and her all-seeing gaze. It is short-lived some nights, languorous on the others, but at least, here, the chatter is comfortable. Leaning forward, he listens to the slurred words, the odd secrets, to keep his thoughts at bay.

And yet

And yet, Kaeya finds himself following the wide expanse of her back, her small frame belying her insurmountable strength as she carries every single burden in silence. “Trust me,” she would assure with her sunlit smile. Kaeya would never admit it, but he does—he wants to.

But what has trust ever given me?

Rain and ichor, and festering wounds.

Everything is unflinchingly loud. How laughable, how maddeningly soft of him, to be so weak in his resolve. Against the hushed humdrum dawn, he watches her leave the gates.

They say if you stare too long at the sun, you’ll go blind. In her presence, Kaeya feels robbed of his vision. He looks to her footprints instead, at the trail of fireflies she leaves in her wake. They don’t hurt him as much as her wayward glances do, not as much as the sincerity in her voice when she reminds him that he can always seek her company when he needs someone to talk to.

“I won’t stay long in Mondstadt, anyway,” Lumine laughs, laced with melancholia. “Whatever your secret is, I’ll bring it with me.”

Kaeya’s chest tightens, constricts. “How fun would I be without my mysteries?” he hums and she scoffs.

“Well, either way,” she says, shrugging while she goes to her feet, “I’m here to listen.”

He knows, he knows, that’s why it’s proving difficult to keep all his bottled thoughts neatly safeguarded. Everything is easier around her, as though he can just be honest and loose-lipped, and bare, and Kaeya despises it.

He despises how vulnerable he feels, how vulnerable she makes him feel.

Each passing day only serves to coddle that parasite of an idea, the frail, tempting whisper at the shell of his ear, gnawing at him endlessly. The words coagulate in his throat, begging to be spoken and put to death all at once, barred only by gritted teeth and sheer willpower.

Lumine never quite pries him, not when he excuses himself of her company through the blatant lie of working through his commissions; nor when he hides at the corner of the bar when they celebrate her victorious homecoming; nor when his nightly patrols loop him back to her in some cyclical torment.

She gives him his space, lets him breathe. Kaeya isn’t sure if he enjoys the consideration, the lack of judgement, the misplaced respect.

A clean-cut, clinical distance maintained. Lumine never quite meets him again, and he never bothers. It’s easier, it’s easier, he tells himself, chanting it through like a broken record.

It’s easier, Kaeya convinces, even when he finds her perplexed at her usual spot at Good Hunter, bathed in the scarlet red of a sunset.

“My,” he greets, pulling up the chair reserved for him, “I don’t think I’ve seen you quite so bothered, Traveller.”

Lumine’s eyes never quite meets his, even when she’s turned her body to his direction. A chill creeps up the length of his spine.

“I’m leaving for Liyue,” she says under her breath, so quiet it’s near indistinguishable from the wind. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” is all Kaeya manages to muster. She doesn’t speak after that. He doesn’t either, all the sentences tangled and fumbling on his tongue, and It’s easier this way, he reminds himself still, even when she’s long receded into Mondstadt’s crowd.

There’s a ringing in his ears, a loud, obnoxious pounding against his skull.

Lumine’s leaving.

The creature in his chest twists, writhing as he inhales deeply, like it is wounded and angry. Isn’t this what I wanted?

Iron fills his mouth as his teeth bite into the inside of his cheek. He’s never once looked at her, not in the longest time, and before he knows it, Kaeya’s letting his feet lead him to the home she’s staying in, blood cold and hands trembling.

The last time Kaeya’s ever held a person so warm dear to him, he burned to ashes.

Something old and ancient stirs, an acquaintance he thought bygone. Wrapping around his shoulders like a winter veil, it hovers, large and engulfing.

What has trust given you? Trauma sneers. Kaeya swallows. Rain and ichor, and festering wounds. Scorched skin black to its bone, pain still as new and fresh as spring. All that hate and fear, and loneliness.

His hand rests quietly on the door, shaking softly.

Intimately, anxiety slithers around his neck, a spurned lover begging for a second chance. His back is soaked in the frozen thunderstorm, the terrorised flesh on his arm throbbing painfully, this memoir he’s carried with him since eighteen.

I should leave. I should go. There isn’t much point in this.

Flashes of white dancing at the peripheral of his eye, embers sparking like coals. Kaeya balls his hand into a fist, breaths shallow and ragged, the smell of carbonised ozone filling the air.

This was a terri-

“Kaeya.”

His demons fall quiet.

Her fingers are warm around his wrist, comfortingly so, a hearth on a winter’s eve, and Kaeya’s heart steadies. Everything does.

I’m scared, he realises when he keeps his gaze to the ground, when he struggles to look back at her, when he’s being honest to himself past all those pretences, a lost child navigating uncharted wasteland.

I’m scared, he realises, of learning how to trust. It feels like centuries since he has. What has trust given you? Rain and ichor, and festering wounds.

Her grip on his wrist tightens.

A home. A friend. A brother. Tiny, stumbling memories that fill with laughter.

Kaeya swallows and turns around, and this time, he meets the gold of her eyes. In the dying light of day, she seems to glow brighter still, undying and unyielding.

They say if you stare too long at the sun, you’ll go blind. As long as it’s her, he can learn to live with that, to have faith in her promises and follow her lead.

“Are you alright?” Lumine questions, and he’s touched by the worry in her voice. Kaeya allows himself to smile, just barely, and nods.

“I’m here for that offer,” he says. There’s an unusual tremor in his words, a nervousness that he’s not quite felt in ages, and ages past. She blinks, once, twice, and Kaeya wonders if he’s misread.

Maybe-

Lumine laughs, then, like chimes in the wind, and Kaeya can’t help but chuckle along. With practiced ease, she slips her hand around his, linking their fingers together.

Kaeya lets her.

“Make yourself at home,” she guides him through the door and into her space effortlessly, seamlessly. Within the four walls she calls hers, in the incandescent ardour of her presence, he feels safe. Safe and heard, and at peace.

It isn’t likely that Kaeya will tell her everything he’s been shouldering within the day, nor the coming week, or month, or possibly a year, but he knows he eventually will. If it’s her, he wants to, and when she offers him a gentle sunburst smile, he’s certain of it.

For the first time since eighteen, Kaeya offers his heart, bare and beating, and him.

#genshin impact #kaelumi #kaeya #lumine #genshin fanfic #munewrites #f: genshin #ch: kaeya #ch: lumine #otp: your absence is loneliness #an: i acc cannot process words rn because kaelumi is just #an: mY HEART #an: THEIR DYNAMIC #an: I AM DYING ON THIS HILL

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avenging-criminal-bones · 3 years

Text

After All This Time || Chapter Two

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Word Count: 1457

Summary: You being a new recruit pissed SSA Aaron Hotchner off. You being smart enough to give Spencer Reid a run for his money pissed him off even more. Really, he just despised your presence. Hated your every move.

Until one day, he just… didn’t.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: general canon level violence, they talk about a new case, more angry Hotch, more angry reader

A/N: I'm excited that so many people want me to tag them! It's technically only like eight haha, but it's still so cool to me that people want to be told when I'm posting.

TAGLIST:

@kingofthetwats @wanniiieeee @uwu-sebastianstan @piggyinthesea @yoshigguk @thatisthemagic @errorcosplay67 @ivebeenthinkingboutu @big-galaxy-chaos @rynfoxsleeps

* * * * *

Chapter Two

Five months later, and you were still sitting at your desk in the late hours of the night. 12:34 AM. Too late. You had been staying at the bureau after hours to make it look like you were already taking this job as seriously as you could. To be fair, you were taking it seriously, but you figured the late hours being noticed would be a benefit.

So when your phone rang, you answered it immediately.

"L/N."

"Hey, Y/N, it's JJ. Can you come in for a case? Hotch just called and woke me up. I know it's pretty late, but it's a pretty bad one, we're going to Michigan."

"Yeah, not a problem. I wasn't asleep yet." You don't lie necessarily, but it's a half-truth for sure. JJ doesn't need to know that you were already at the BAU building, less than fifty feet away from the briefing room where you would all be meeting.

"Great, thanks Y/N. See you soon."

She clicks off the phone and you sigh before pushing yourself off of the desk.

"L/N." You almost drop the coffee you had been about to sip as you spun around in your swivel chair.

"Yes, sir?" You ask casually, deciding it was better to play dumb.

"Stand."

Obeying your order, you narrow your eyes and stand up, squaring your shoulders and trying to look bigger than you are.

"Now, explain." Hotchner stands in front of you, arms crossed.

"Explain what? That I'm here and we have a case?" You shake your head as you turn away from him.

"Did I say you could turn, Agent?" His voice sends a shiver through your core and you mentally slap yourself. Now is not the time.

Spinning back around, you catch a glimpse of Derek and Garcia walking in to the briefing room. "We have a case, Hotchner. Let's ignore the fact that I was just doing my paperwork and get in there please." It takes everything in you to turn away a second time. You bend down and grab your shoes, sliding them onto your feet before walking away from him and into the room.

You can feel his gaze on your back, but you ignore it, slipping through the conference room door and letting it fall shut behind you.

"Hey guys." You greet as you sit down.

"Hot mama-"

"Hey, beautiful-"

Derek and Penelope greet you at the same time, causing you two girls to giggle and Derek to stifle his laugh because, 'men don't giggle'.

The three of you exchange small talk until the others walk in, most of them looking like they had been in the deep clutches of sleep.

Spencer's already messy hair looked ten times worse, and Emily wasn't wearing a bra, which she was subtly trying to hide by hunching her shoulders forward.

She sits beside you and you send her the 'you good?' look.

"Don't even mention it, Y/N." She threatens lightly with a laugh before Rossi, JJ, and Hotchner walked in.

You kept your gaze down, but you knew his eyes were on you.

"Garcia, you have the slideshow pulled up?" JJ asks gently, knowing that the other blonde woman absolutely despised cases like this. Really the whole team did.

"Yeah... It's a doosy, team. Not pretty at all." She shakes her head and starts the slideshow before handing the tablet to JJ.

"Okay. Ariel Stanton, Franklin Lewis, and Ella Craft. Three kids, all mutilated with their heads severed and preserved. Their bodies were found in the same area of the Raisin River in Petersburg, MI. The heads-"

Penelope got up then and mumbled a string of 'I'm sorries' before all but running out the door.

Your fingers clutched at the dress pants you were wearing as JJ asked, "Does anyone else need to leave before I keep going?"

A collective shake of the team's heads is enough to convince JJ that she can keep going.

"Their heads were all found beside the river bank, fully intact. Two of the bodies came with a note to the precinct, it read: "Fear me, for I have God on my side. God will help me cleanse the Earth of its sinners. These children had to go, for they were not with God.""

You start speaking when the profile is complete, "Okay, so the references to God and doing His work suggests that this unsub sees himself as holier than thou. Most likely a man, age 30-40 and probably grew up in a family that was very religious; they would have prayed before meals and there would be records of this family donating very generously to the church that they attended."

"No. That profile is wrong, L/N. If you had paid any attention, you'd know that the use of the word 'cleanse' means that he thinks these "sinners" are dirty, he's not thinking that he is necessarily better. I don't need your input again."

"Hotch come-"

"You do not have the right to call me that. My team calls me that. To you, I am Agent Hotchner." His gaze was cold, but there was something there.

"Fine. I'll be on the jet." You stand up and as you bend to pick your purse off the ground, Emily whispers in your ear.

"I agreed with you. I'll brief you on the jet."

You nod once and swiftly walk out of the room, "accidentally" bumping Hotchner on your way out. Luckily, he doesn't say anything about it.

Later on the jet, you have your headphones in and are listening the your favorite song of the week. Your taste in music changes frequently, but right now, you were into the old rock and were listening to Journey.

Your lips press into a hard line when you see Hotchner walking up to you. Taking your headphones out and sit up straighter.

"What do you want?" Your voice is bratty and you sigh, quirking an eyebrow up at him.

"I uh, am here to apologize. Rossi thinks it's necessary that I say 'I'm sorry'. So here I am."

You just stare at him.

"What, Y/N?"

"You had something to say?" You cross your arms and lean back in the seat.

His eyebrows furrow when he thinks about what you said and gets a bit confused. "What do you mean? I just said it."

"Oh, did you?" You turn to Spencer, who was sitting across from you, and said, "Did you hear what Hotchner just said?"

"Uh, yeah. I did, why?" He looks up from the book he was reading.

You smirk slightly at Hotch before saying, "Can you use that amazing brain of yours to tell me what he said?"

""I uh, am here to apologize. Rossi thinks it's necessary that I say 'I'm sorry'. So here I am." Why did you need that?" He says after repeating the sentences word for word.

Hotch glares at you a bit as you shrug your shoulders.

"I don't know... I just didn't hear an apology in that." You bat your eyelashes up at the older man and add, "You said that Rossi told you to apologize, but you never said that you were sorry."

"Really, L/N? You want me to get on my knees and beg you?" He asks, spitting the words out like incredulous knives.

You keep the snide tone as you reply, "If you'd like to get on your knees, I may be more inclined to accept the imminent apology."

"Don't be a brat, L/N. I get that some of your past lovers may have liked that, but it has no place in this team. I am still your superior and I recommend you treat me like one."

He walks away without having ever apologizing, and you're left there with your jaw on the floor from his parting message.

"-Yeah! And then he was like, 'Don't be a brat. Your ex probably liked it but I'm your superior-"

"O-M-G, O-M-G. What did you say back to him?!" A very excitable Emily asks from you shared hotel room in Michigan.

"Nothing. I couldn't say anything to him because he just spun and WALKED. AWAY." You nod your head at her, your eyebrows raising as you conveyed your own disbelief at the story. "Yeah, it was horrible. I was so mad."

Emily wiggles her eyebrows, causing you to shake your head.

"Whaaat? No. No!"

"Yeah, Y/N. There's some MAD sexual tension between you two."

"Oh, get out!"

As you laugh at her statement, you pick up the pillow behind you and hit her in the side of the head with it.

"You're gonna get it now."

Faking a gasp, you stand and say, "Is that a threat, Emily?"

"Yes. Now run, bitch."

Yu both giggle and spend the night acting like teenagers again. You didn't have time to think about Aaron if you wanted to which you... no.

You didn't want to.

#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #angst #enemies to lovers #bau #fluff #smut eventually

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pastorpresent · 4 years

Text

Sam was really starting to despise bars.

It's like as soon as they entered one Dean would ditch him to chat up some hot blonde, leaving Sam alone to hunch over his beer and sit miserably as he watched Dean give all his attention to some bitch in a mini skirt.

He knew him and Dean weren't an exclusive thing. Hell, they were hardly even a thing at all. They hooked up here and there but Sam was starting to believe Dean only used him for convenience. After a long, gruelling hunt why would he waste energy trying to flirt his way into a girls bed, when he knows Sam will melt into him immediately?

It made Sam feel painfully pathetic for even feeling remotely jealous.

Tonight it was worse. Tonight it had been 2 whole weeks since Dean had even looked at him with lust in his eyes, nevermind fucked him.

He was losing interest and it hurt more than it should. It only hurt worse when they ended up in yet another bar, with Dean leaving him after a record fast time of 2 minutes to go sit with some long legged brunette a few tables over.

Sam sat in his seat, alone at the table picking at the label on his beer whilst trying his hardest not to fucking cry.

"Hey gorgeous, can I buy you another?" Sam's head lifted up to see a guy smiling down at him.

He looked a little older than Dean, but he wasn't unattractive whatsoever. He was built with plenty of muscle, and his face seemed kind.

Normally Sam would've declined, but his eyes flickered over to Dean where he had his arm around the girl and he found himself accepting.

A minute later the stranger was taking the seat opposite him, sliding over a beer and taking a swig of his own.

"So, does my angel have a name?" The man grinned, and Sam felt his cheeks burning up.

It felt like forever since Dean made him blush.

"Uh S-Sam. And you?" He was admittedly a little out of his depth. He had never flirted much in his life, especially not with strangers at bars, but the guy didn't seem put off by his stuttering. In fact, his smile just got a little bigger as if he found it endearing somehow.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sam, my name's Adam. Any reason why someone so beautiful is sat alone in a bar on a Friday night? You're wasted in this place, Sammy." The familiar nickname almost sent a shiver through Sam, and he took a drink of his beer to hide it.

"Let's just say my date ditched me." It wasn't a total lie, Sam thought as he looked over to where Dean was saying something hilarious, if the way the girl threw her head back with laughter was any indication.

Adam moved his chair a little closer, and Sam felt a hand move slowly over his thigh.

"Well whoever your date is? I think they're certifiably insane." He grinned and Sam found himself laughing and blushing more at the guys upfront flattery.

Him and Adam talked for 30 minutes, and honestly Sam really liked the guy. He was sweet and funny, and even if Sam doubted he would end up going home with the guy, he was enjoying the attention regardless.

Adam squeezed his knee, sent him a small smile.

"Can I kiss you then, Sammy?" Sam's heart was going like a jack hammer in his chest, and he found his eyes travelling uncertainly to Dean for the first time in the last half hour.

The girl was gone. Sam wasn't sure why or when, but she was and Dean was still sat at the table with his eyes locked on him in such a way that he couldn't read. Dean's face was expressionless almost, fingers drumming against his bottle, and Sam swallowed down any sort of reservations he had with the last mouthful of his fourth beer that night.

He didn't answer Adam's request verbally, opting to instead lean forward and close those few inches until their mouths were locked together.

At first it felt... wrong. Maybe not wrong perse, just... odd. Sam wasn't certain when the last time was that he kissed someone who wasn't Dean, but he was willing to bet it had been well over a year.

Having someone kissing him who wasn't Dean just felt a little unnatural at first, but once Adam squeezed his thigh and nibbled gently at his bottom lip Sam felt himself relaxing into it and enjoying the feeling.

It was short lived, because very early into their make out session Adam was pulled - no, yanked - back and shoved to the floor.

"Stay the fuck off him, you creep!" Dean snarled, and it took Sam a minute to comprehend what was happening. Dean had his boot pinning Adam to the ground with ease, grinding it down with spite and making the man gasp for a breath.

"Dean! What the fuck?!" Sam demanded, standing up fast enough that his bottle tipped and the few drops of beer left dribbled out onto the table.

Dean didn't lift his foot, until he noticed shocked bystanders reaching for their phones to call the cops.

He spat on Adam, before turning and grabbing Sam by the wrist and pulling him out the bar and straight to the impala.

"Get in." Dean grunted, shoving himself in the drivers seat.

Sam rolled his eyes but did as he was told, dropping into the passenger seat. He barely had his door shut before Dean was speeding out the parking lot, and Sam felt his frustration flare even more.

What fucking right did Dean have to throw a guy off him, and how the hell did he have the audacity to be the one who was mad right now?

"That's was completely fucking unnecessary in there! He wasn't some creep, Dean. His name was Adam and he was actually really sweet-"

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.

"He had his fucking hand on your thigh."

"So?! That girl was practically giving you a hand job under the table and I wasn't trying to cut off her air supply for it!" Sam exclaimed, and Dean's expression tightened.

"That's different."

"How?" Sam questioned, but Dean remained silent and tight lipped. Sam wasn't letting it go that easily. No way.

"How is it different, Dean? It's the exact same and you know it, you're just-"

The car jerked so violently off to the side of the road that Sam very almost hit his head off the window, gripping the dashboard to steady himself.

Dean killed the engine.

"It's different because it was someone touching you, Sam!" Dean yelled, and Sam just stared, brows furrowed and confused.

"Fuck this." Dean muttered, throwing his door open and getting out, running his hands over his face.

Sam sighed, climbing out and going around the car to be stood beside him.

"I don't get it."

"Because- look. I don't know, ok? I know it makes me hypocritical as fuck, but I saw you kissing him and... God Sam. I've never felt so fucking furious in my life. It had me reaching for my damn gun." Dean puffed out a breath, staring at the ground instead of Sam.

"Dean." Sam said quietly, inching closer and pressing a soft kiss to his jaw line.

Some of the tension left Dean then, and he brought his hands around Sam's waist.

"You know we can't keep doing things this way. It's gonna get someone killed." Sam pointed out and Dean's face hardened again slightly.

"Yeah, whichever guy thinks he can touch you next." He said, his voice low with a possessive tint that made Sam roll his eyes.

"Likely. I think... we need to either end this all together or make it exclusive." Sam murmured, and Dean leaned forward to kiss him.

"I have no issue with being exclusive. You've ruined me for girls anyway... the last couple of weeks I can't even get it up for them. That may have been the reason we haven't fucked in two weeks, because I've maybe been trying to see if I can get hard for girls still. Turns out I can, but it takes far too much effort to be sexy." That send a flush of pride through Sam and he grinned, nipping at Dean's lips.

"Maybe it's the old age?" He teased, and Dean rolled his eyes but smirked as he grabbed Sam's wrist and directed it to his hard on.

"Nah, baby. All you. Always you, Sammy."

#possesive dean #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn #supernatural #sam and dean #samxdean #sam x dean #wincest #wincest smut #sam/dean #mywriting

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marvels-writings · 4 years

Text

Crown

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Prompt by: @ohboyitscringe

Word Count: 13,998

A/N: This is a long masterpiece and definitely worth your time

Weak sunlight shown through the window, illuminating the room in a dull orange light. The air of frustration was heavy in the air as your parents argued with you. Heels clicked on the floor as you paced the room angrily.

“Y/n, you need to wed,” Your father argued, voice heavy and determined.

“You expect me to wed some prince or princess who does not how to rule a kingdom,” You stopped pacing to face him, frustration lacing your tone. “let alone fix their hair.”

Your mother, who usually sympathized with you and let you get away with rejecting proposals, was also exasperated with you. The queen sat on the bed, posture hunched, her eyes tired and drooping low. The argument had been going on for over an hour. Multiple servants had entered and exited already. But after the king demanded they leave, none came back.

“The princess we met last was suitable,” The Queen commented.

“You truly think so?” You asked, raising a perfect eyebrow at the statement. Your mother sighed and looked down on the ground, aware of the talk which was about to follow.

“Y/n…” Your father trailed off, glancing from his wife to you. He knew better than anyone how much you’d despised your last suitor.

“No, the first time we met she seemed alright.” You scoffed, clenching your jaw, then threw your hands up in exasperation.

“But all she knows how to do is flirt and get her way no matter what. I’m not marrying a brat.” You stated malice in your tone. Your father was visibly frustrated with you, but you knew he couldn’t force you to do anything.

“Then don’t marry!” The king shouted, using his authoritative tone he used when dealing with infuriating politicians or citizens.

It was a tone you feared as a child, whenever he spoke to you this way your first reaction had been to obey. But you’d learned otherwise, you were under no obligation to take orders from him. It was this habit of yours which infuriated him the most.

“If only it was that simple.” You remarked, turning away from him.

Your mother opened her mouth to say something, probably to calm down your father like she usually did during these arguments. But a messenger opened the heavy door to the room, attracting the attention of your family.

It was a girl, about 20 years old, blonde hair tied up, she wore the uniform that all the messengers wore and held a thin roll of parchment. Her green eyes darted around nervously, taking in the scene in front of her as she bowed in respect. You’d never seen her before, you assumed she was new.

The new ones were more scared of your father than anyone else. You didn’t blame them, they were seeing the king for the first time. If they made the smallest mistake he could have them sent out of the castle. The golden crown glinting in the light on his head a constant reminder of his power.

“I said we must not be disturbed.” Your father sneered, brow furrowing in anger.

The messenger visibly cowered in the king's presence. Your mother rolled your eyes at the antics and beckoned her to hand over the parchment. The messenger bowed and handed the queen the parchment, backing away towards the door quickly after catching your father’s glare.

“This was an urgent message from a new kingdom east from us.” The messenger explained, gesturing weakly to the parchment in the queen’s hand.

You rolled your eyes at the statement. The most urgent message that could be was a thief or the most excitement in an urgent message was a wedding proposal. The latter seemed unlikely after the events with your last suitor.

“It’s a marriage proposal from the recently occupied valley.” Your mother stated, eyes widening as she read it.

“Another one?” You asked sarcastically.

The last message had been from a peasant valley just north of you. It had been a mistake to visit, the prince who had sent the proposal was no more than an uneducated soldier.

However, this message seemed to be more urgent. The queen didn’t hesitate to show your father the wedding proposal. When the king saw it, his eyes widened as he read the page, taking in every word. They whispered in rapid succession behind the large scroll. You crossed your arms at the scene unfolding in front of you.

When they were done conspiring, they turned to face you. Your mother seemed to be giddy with excitement, while your father was smiling seriously.

“You must get your things, you’re leaving in a few days.” Your father stated, leaving no room for argument.

Already exhausted from arguing, you decided not to object. Instead, you asked why you were going. Several proposals had already been rejected, you didn’t understand why this one was so special.

“To a valley?” You asked incredulously, your arms uncrossing in shock. “For what purpose?”

Your father handed you the unraveled parchment. You sighed and took it, skimming over it quickly. The messenger who was still standing at the door was unsure whether to leave or stay. Her feet shifted noisily under her, but she stopped when she caught your glare over the parchment.

The scroll was simple, it was from the leader of a group of warriors who had recently taken over a nearby valley. It was a marriage proposal from the leader of their group rather than the king or queen. But it was worded as more of an invitation.

They were inviting you to spend a month at their castle to settle marriage negotiations. Nowhere did it say who the marriage proposal was from.

There were other notes on the sides by politicians who had been shown this proposal. None of which objected to the invitation. Not that you were surprised, a powerful ally, a princess, what could go wrong?

“This seems overly familiar.” You commented, rolling up the parchment and handing it back to the messenger. The girl made a small bow and accepted it, fidgeting with the thin parchment noiselessly.

“You’re going tomorrow.” The queen commanded, her tone strict and assertive.

“But the valley is filled with burglars.” You argued, hoping she would see the risk.

But it didn’t seem like either of your parents was going to let this pass. Your mother sighed, knowing you were trying to get out of it. Your father refused to let this pass.

“We’ll send our best knight with you.” The king stated.

You opened your mouth to argue. Say anything, object these redundant proposals. But before you could, the nervous messenger girl interrupted you.

“Forgive me but,” She began, but stopped when the royal family turned to glare at her.

The messenger gulped loudly, you saw the hint of a smirk on your father’s face. He liked making people nervous, a trait you had gained from him.

“But the kingdom has already arranged for a knight to come for her safety.” The messenger finished.

Relief washed over your parent's faces. But this news darkened your features. It only secured your travel to this valley.

“Then that’s taken care of,” Your mother smiled. The messenger looked visibly relieved when the king’s features softened.

“When is this knight arriving?” He asked, tone softer as not to frighten the girl.

“Tonight,” She answered promptly. You bit back a groan at her answer.

“Have them sent to y/n’s room once they arrive.” The king instructed.

The messenger bowed and left as quickly as she had come, closing the door behind her with a dull clank. You turned to face your parents, both of them wore stern expressions. They had worn this expression before when you had tried to get out of another engagement. Even though you made your way out eventually, you weren’t sure you’d be able to this time.

Groaning, you left the room and slammed the door shut on the way to your room. Dinner was in two hours, you were expected to attend. Since you were leaving tomorrow, your father was going to throw an exquisite feast. Usually, you loved them, the endless scores of people giving you a distraction from the incessant whining of your parents.

But this time, you couldn’t feel less inclined to attend. You were assigned a knight to guard you all the time. Every move of yours was watched by someone. It was attention you were used to, but it wasn’t welcome when you wished to be alone.

The knight you were expecting was similar to the knights surrounding your mother and your father. Men and women who had nothing more to do than fight. More often than not, they had less intelligence than that of a squirrel.

It wouldn’t take much to impress you, but you had certain expectations from a knight assigned to protect you.

———————

Muffled footsteps sounded outside your door, the rushed taking of cooks and waitresses as well as the necessary chatter of messengers. The noise was a welcome distraction from the thoughts inside your head. Golden jewelry glinted in the candlelight in front of you as you slid the elegant earrings through your ear.

A familiar knock at your bedroom door cuts through the sound of voices. The knock was a code between one of your helpers, Mia and you. It was so you always knew who was outside your door. But lately, a few messengers had been copying the knock to gain access. You hadn’t had the time to change the code yet.

“Who is it?” You asked, not bothering to look away from the intricately decorated mirror in front of you.

“It’s me,” The voice confirmed it was Mia.

“The knight has arrived, your father had asked for her to be sent to your room,” Mia explained her disturbance.

“Her?” You muttered, setting down the earring and turning to face the door.

A light frown ghosted over your face. Female knights, or as they were addressed formally, Dames, were not uncommon. But they weren’t common either. Your expectations consisted of a knight who knew too little about how to conduct himself. Not of a woman who had worked to get where she was.

“Send her in,” You instructed.

The door opened, Mia entered, the tall, pale, brunette wore a simple gown, already prepared for the feast. She smiled at you warmly. You smiled back at her, gaze flickering to the knight behind her.

It wasn’t the usual armor the knights wore, rather a sleek, thick, black leather suit with heels and fingerless gloves. Skintight was out of the question for armor, so it wasn’t body-con, but it wasn’t exactly loose either.

The helmet was a heavily stylized variation of the normal armor, a vertical slit rather than the usual horizontal slits. There was a faded black widow mark near the side of it. On the arm, there was a small symbol, it looked like an A but with an arrow. It was a dark silver, barely showing over the black of the suit.

“Princess y/n, this is Dame Natasha Romanoff,” Mia gestured from you to the woman behind her.

The woman, Natasha, bowed, trying to hide her face for a reason you could not understand. Despite the woman’s efforts, you caught sight of tantalizing green eyes. Despite the unusual armor, her manners were impeccable, she didn’t stand up unless she was asked by you.

“Thank you, Mia,” You thanked, smiling at her.

You had been correct to assume she had other duties to attend to. Mia smiled at you gratefully and bowed, exiting the room and closing the door quietly behind her. Natasha stayed in her bow, you weren’t sure how to instruct her.

“You can sit down,” You remarked, gesturing to the ottoman in front of your bed.

The luxurious rugs and furs surrounding it seemed to intimidate her. But Natasha sat down on the ottoman after pushing away the few dresses you’d thrown on it before selecting. The dress you wore was an elegant blue and emerald green gown.

“Do you speak? Or did they send me a mute knight?” You asked, almost joking as to lighten the atmosphere which had suddenly become heavy and awkward. Turning around to face the mirror, you continued to put on jewelry, you still kept one eye on her.

“I speak,” Natasha answered. Her voice was raspy but softer than you had expected a woman of her stature to be. You raised your eyebrows slightly, thinking of a response when you noticed the clasp on your necklace won’t close.

Frustrated, you put it down before trying to put it on again. The knight sitting on your ottoman stared, much to your annoyance.

“Since you’re here, you might as well help,” You commented, exasperation seeping into your tone.

The knight nodded, standing up and walking behind you. You pulled your hair over your shoulder, giving the knight easy access to the necklace. The woman’s breath hitched behind you, indicating her nervousness. You couldn’t help the smirk on your face, you were too similar to your father.

Natasha tried desperately not to stare at you, but you made it almost impossible. The jewelry you wore glinted in the candlelight, illuminating your features and lighting up your eyes. Licking her lips, Natasha focused on the necklace rather than your eyes. Her fingers wandered dangerously close to your skin as she pulled the clasp on the necklace shut.

“Thank you,” You said, a smile on your face as you felt her fingers tremble as she pulled away. A vague memory of your father talking about how you liked to make people nervous, just like him, flies threw your head. Smiling at the memory, you got up from the dressing table.

“Of course,” The knight said, walking away from you and resuming her seat on the ottoman.

You looked at the armor, almost as if it was offending you somehow. It didn’t seem right for someone meant to protect you to wear something so horrid to dinner. No matter how stylish armor was, it was still armor.

Sighing, you gestured towards your closet and your bed, indicating for her to change into one of the dresses. But Natasha did not get the hint.

“There’s spare dresses in there you can change into,” You explained, smoothing out the invisible ruffles in your dress.

Natasha was confused about why you would want her to change into one of your dresses. But it was not her place to question it, so she chose not to.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” The knight refused. You raised an eyebrow as a playful smirk graced your face.

“Can’t or won’t?” You asked, chuckling at your joke.

To say Natasha was surprised was an understatement. The knight was stunned, she had never met someone, let alone a princess who had the kind of ethereal appearance and attitude you had. From what she had heard, you were a graceful, almost godlike. She couldn’t agree more.

But there was more to you than just stunning appearances and gracefulness. The rumors she had heard also told how headstrong you were. All of the rumors about you, no matter how unbelievable, were proving themselves true.

“Suit yourself,” You shrugged when Natasha didn’t respond.

“You’re welcome to stay here or join us at the feast,”

When she didn’t react, you walked past her, your dress barely brushing her armor. But the perfume you wore blasted into her nose, it smelled like rose petals, new candles. Natasha almost stumbled, she corrected herself before you could notice.

You opened the door, letting the smell of freshly baked bread and strong wine greet you as well as the loud talking of people downstairs greet you. All of the attention in the room turned to you, observing your every move.

Smiling, you descended the stairs to the feast.

Feeling like you were being followed, you turned your head to see Natasha behind you, far enough not to step on your dress but close enough for you to catch another glimpse of her emerald eyes. Doubt filled you, you didn’t think you were ever going to get used to the feeling of being followed everywhere.

———————

The feast went far better than you had expected. Even though the green-eyed knight’s eyes were always on you, you tried to enjoy yourself. When you began to get bored of the usual talking and joking with your father’s friends, the daughter of one of the nobles began flirting with you.

The woman pretended not to know about the marriage proposal, and you didn’t bring it up. The rest of the night you spent talking to her, flirting, and eating the exquisite feast prepared for you.

Natasha wasn’t enjoying herself nearly as much as you were. Her position was near the back of the room, near the other knights. As the other knights ate and jested about the many tournaments they had won, Natasha stayed quiet, her eyes trained on you.

Green eyes burned with jealousy as she watched you flirt with the noble’s daughter. There was no reason for her to be jealous. Her job was to simply protect you from any harm, nothing more. The only reason she was here was because she needed to get away from her life for a few days. Natasha wasn’t here for any other reason.

Once the feast had ended, you politely excused yourself from the women surrounding you. The noble’s daughter seemed to be particularly insistent on staying with you. After catching sight of Natasha looming threateningly, she stopped.

You laughed at the interaction but paid no more heed to it. While walking up the long flights of stairs to your room, you noticed the knight behind you made little to no noise while walking. It was a welcome change from the clunky loudness of the armor of the other knights.

Entering your room, you saw there were three large trunks set in the corner of your room. The dresses which had previously been on your bed weren’t there anymore. Mia was cleaning your room when she noticed you standing in the open doorway.

“Dame Romanoff,” The woman smiled at the knight behind you. “We have arranged for you to sleep in the room adjacent to Princess y/n’s.”

Mia gestured to the wall on her right. Natasha turned and examined the door and nodded to her. There was a helper behind her to cater to her needs, but the knight waved her off.

“Thank you,” Natasha said. The knight bowed before leaving, closing the door to her room behind her with a heavy thud.

You observed her, standing in the empty doorway for some time. Mia knew you were observing her, as you always did with new arrivals into the palace. Seconds passed until you finally turned away from the closed door and entered your room.

“How long has she been a knight for?” You asked, closing the door to your room and going towards the dressing table to take off the endless amount of jewelry adorning you.

“All her life apparently,” Mia answered, taking a seat on the large bed behind you.

“There’s a rumor around that she was trained in the red room.” She said in a hushed tone, scared the secret would leave your room.

Your eyes widened at the implications. The red room was well known to anyone who knew a knight. It was an almost mythical place, only some of the best dames came from there. But you’d heard different rumors. The rumors said it was as ruthless as it was mythical. You found yourself pitying the knight in the adjacent room.

“That would explain the black widow mark on her helmet,” You remarked, recalling the faded black widow mark on the side of her helmet.

“She can’t be,” Mia muttered, her voice barely audible.

You frowned, starting to take off your earrings and tilting your head to look at her. The helper looked as scared as she was in awe. Her eyes wide, staring at the wall adjacent to the green-eyed knight’s.

“Can’t be who?” You asked, turning around to face her.

Rumors were more known to the maids and the helpers than to the nobles or the royal family themselves. A majority of the rumors you had heard had been conveyed through Mia or one of the other helpers.

But this was something new, you’d never seen Mia in such awe.

“There’s a myth about the black widow,” Mia began, fidgeting with her hands in her lap “She’s one of the most famous knights of the group called the Avengers.”

Now you were dumbfounded. The Avengers was a famed group of warriors who feared no one. They had been rumored to take over the valley you had just received a marriage proposal from. Perhaps this was why your parents were adamant about sending you there. A wedding to an Avenger would show how powerful their kingdom was.

“They sent an avenger to protect me?” You verified, surprised they had sent the Black Widow to protect you. Turning around to face the mirror, you continued taking off your jewelry.

“It’s impressive,”

“To say the least,” You remarked, struggling with the clasp on the necklace Natasha had tied for you. Mia chuckled behind you, moving to help you with the necklace. She took it off and placed it in one of the drawers of the table silently.

“We’ll find out how good their suitor is when we get there,” You stated, taking off all your jewelry and looking at yourself in the mirror. Licking your lips, you finished taking off the makeup and sat on the bed, staring at the wall joining your room to Natasha’s

You doubted you would ever understand why you were assigned an Avenger to protect you. All you had was hope that this would end better than you expected.

———————

Tomorrow came sooner than you had expected. You’d awoken to helpers surrounding you to help you get ready for the travel. A majority of your things were already in the large caravan for your travel. Natasha was in charge of security and had taken some of your father’s best knights with her.

The valley was a day’s travel from your kingdom, you were expected just after sunrise tomorrow. You dressed in a simple, rust-colored gown with a black cloak over it. The caravan in the middle was yours, it was driven by a knight you didn’t know.

Mia sat in your caravan to give you company, she talked about the rumors she had heard of the valley that had been occupied. It was said that their celebrations were often but spectacular each time. They were some of the richest and the most powerful.

The day had passed rather slowly, the only time travel had stopped was for meals which consisted of heavily spiced meat, wine, bread, and cheese. The bread was a little soggy, as a result of a water canister spilling into the bag.

Travel was the most despicable part of journeying to a suitor. The food was horrid, there was little to no privacy in the tents which were set up. You had your tent, which was near the circle of tents that had been arranged.

It felt like you were being watched by everyone in the camp, you found it almost impossible to fall asleep. Dark fantasies of being kidnapped in the night kept you well awake past midnight. Eventually, you fell asleep to the sounds of the forest you were camped in.

However, you were interrupted from your peaceful sleep by the loud yet familiar clanging of swords and shouting. Opening the flap to your tent, you looked outside to see moonlight glinting off of swords, creating a silver silhouette against the dark of the camp.

One of the men lit up a lantern, the dim light exposing three men fighting one knight. But the knight wasn’t one of your father’s knights.

It was Natasha.

The green-eyed knight called for the rest of the men to tie them up. Her voice left no room for argument. It was evident she was able to hold them off by herself. The rest of the men still pulled the men back and tied them up, carrying them off to an unforeseeable punishment.

Lighting up the lantern next to you, you let the light wash over your face, making your presence known. Natasha didn’t hesitate to bow, but stood up and tucked her sword back in the sheath.

“You are safe Princess y/n,” Natasha assured, waving the rest of the knights to return to their tents.

They did so promptly, but Mia came out of her tent to make sure you were alright. She watched the interaction between you and the green-eyed knight.

“I could tell,” You remarked, keeping your composure despite the slight tremble which threatened to take over. Your fears were beginning to come back to you, taking a calming breath, you noticed the men in the camp staring, waiting for your next move

“Mia,” You called out, turning to face her. The woman made a curt bow and waited for your command.

“Move her tent nearer to mine,” You ordered, your tone authoritative like your father’s. The few people left outside glanced nervously from you to Natasha. Though your tone demanded obedience, they weren’t sure of your reasoning behind this action.

“For safety,” You explained, and they got to work.

Natasha’s tent was placed promptly next to yours. She bowed and climbed inside her tent, unsure of what to make of this interaction.

You looked at the tent flap for a few moments after Natasha had left. The green-eyed knight had shown herself capable of protecting you at every point. Somehow, it made you feel safer as you tried to fall asleep.

The fantasies of being dragged away in the night were quelled, lulling you to sleep.

———————

The arrival to the valley was later than you had expected. Delays were caused by the constant demand for breakfast while seated instead of in caravans. As a result, your arrival was just past lunch. The sun had long since risen, but it seemed like it was about to set soon

The golden rays of the sun lit up the heavily decorated entrance to the kingdom. At the front, several crowds were cheering, trying to catch a glance of the famed princess. It seemed they had all heard about you, perhaps more than you had heard about yourself.

Once you’d reached the castle gates, the horses were stopped for you and your company to step down while the horses were parked. The caravan you were in was set in front of the main gates. At the gates, two blonde men wore a similar leather armor standing there. Behind him, there were several knights dressed in similar attire, all with their helmets on

The caravan stopped, the door was opened by Mia for you to step outside. Through the open doorway, you could see the crowds of people waiting for you to step outside. It was frightening and exhilarating.

Smiling curtly, you stepped out of the caravan, your posture perfect as you walked towards the blonde men.

One of them had shoulder-length blonde hair, some of it tied up, almost framing his green eyes. His armor looked heavier, almost like it was made of metal, but it too had the Avengers symbol in the same place.

The one with shorter hair had a large white star in the center of his chest, the Avengers symbol on the arm of his suit, signifying that he was an Avenger. His deep blue eyes flickered from caravan to caravan, focusing on you as you stepped out.

“Well, I didn’t expect such a welcome,” You smiled, stopping in front of the men.

Under the helmet, Natasha wore a smirk, she had known the Avengers would throw a large celebration for your arrival. But she hadn’t expected it to surprise you.

The one with short hair smirked and introduced himself as Steve Rogers. The man behind him introduced himself as Thor, making a show of taking one of your hands and kissing the back of it.

“Welcome to our kingdom Princess Y/n,” Thor greeted, his voice deep and thunderous. You smiled and took your hand out of his reach.

“Thank you,” You smiled.

Steve made a gesture for the knights behind him to clear a pathway into the castle. The ordered into lines, surrounding the edges of the pathway while you passed through them. Natasha walked behind you, watching the knights around her intently. Mia followed Natasha, unsure of where else to be.

“The twins will show you and Romanoff your rooms,” Steve said, walking you, Natasha and Mia into the castle.

“The twins?” Mia asked, moving so she was walking next to the green-eyed knight.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” Steve explained as the five of you walked into the castle.

“Thank you,” You said, a courtesy rather than a genuine sentiment.

“And there is a feast tonight where you would meet your suitor,” His smile seemed to light up with a smile when he mentioned that. But he was quickly called away by someone. Excusing himself with a curt bow, he went to deal with different matters.

You led your company to where you assumed the twins would be. Mia followed you, confused as to where you were heading.

“Isn’t the suitor supposed to be Rogers?” Mia asked, moving past Natasha to walk next to you. The green eyes knight snorted but coughed to cover it up before you could ask. You turned to face the knight, a light frown on your face.

“That’s Captain Rogers, but no.” Natasha corrected, waving off the notion. “He’s married to Barnes.”

“Then whom am I here to wed?” You asked, confusion seeping into your tone.

“I wouldn’t say wed just yet,” Mia muttered.

You side-eyed the remark, not wanting to explain the severity of this marriage proposal. But the answer to your question interested you more than explaining.

“Carol Danvers,” Natasha answered, her voice tight and strained.

—————

Candlelight reflected off of the numerous mirrors and gold objects in the room, giving it a golden lighting. Mia sat on the ottoman, already prepared for the feast as she talked to you. Most of what she spoke of was pointless, but she was only doing it to fill the silence. It was one of the reasons you preferred her company. You never had to settle into an uncomfortable silence.

Though, uncomfortable silences came more often since Natasha was assigned to protect you. The knight barely spoke and never took off her helmet in your presence. It intrigued you, but it wasn’t your place to ask her to take it off.

Mia’s rambling filled the room while you put on your jewelry. Mia had already helped you with your makeup and putting on the dress. You still found jewelry the hardest and most annoying part about dressing up.

Unbeknownst to you, the knight in the corner of your room was staring at you, unable to take her eyes off of you. Natasha hadn’t ever met someone like you, someone who was gorgeous and carried it like a weapon. The green eyes knight was enamored with you, but she could never tell you.

When you finally got the clasp set, you sighed and got up. You turned around, giving a dazzling smile to them. Natasha took in a silent breath, admiring how the black and gold gown looked on you. The lighting flickered across your face, illuminating your eyes, and highlighting your features.

“Alright, how does this look for a dinner with the most famous warriors throughout the land?” You asked, a smile on your face as you asked the little company you had.

Mia immediately started fawning, as she usually did. Though you appreciate the barrage of compliments she was giving you, you would appreciate a change. You noticed Natasha hadn’t said anything and tilted your head to the side, spreading your arms away from your waist.

“Romanoff? Or can I call you Natasha?” You asked, addressing the knight in the corner of the room.

Natasha licked her lips under the helmet, unsure of what to say. You waited patiently, glancing down at Mia, who had turned around to face the knight.

“Natasha is alright, and you look beautiful,” Natasha finally said, the compliment not near enough to describe how you looked to her.

“Chivalry isn’t dead,” Mia remarked, standing up and brushing off her dress. You laughed and smoothed out the invisible ruffles in your dress.

“Now, let’s attend this feast I’ve heard so much about.” You smiled, turning from Mia to your knight.

Natasha nodded and opened the door for both of you, unable to take her eyes off of you. You pretended not to notice the staring, but you turned slightly to look at her when you caught sight of emerald green eyes under her helmet.

———————

The table was set lavishly. Different sorts of meats lay on the table, adorned with different types of ales and wines. Above it all, there were intricate decorations and candles set to illuminate the large dining hall.

The table was large enough to seat almost 20 people, but there were only twelve seated. You sat at the bottom end of the table, Mia on your left and Thor at your right. Thor wore a darker variant of his usual armor while Mia wore a delicately embroidered gown. The Maximoff twins sat across from each other, the girl, Wanda, wore a scarlet gown with dark velvet patterns. Pietro wore a light blue outfit, complimenting his bright eyes. Jarvis, or his nickname, Vision, sat next to Wanda wearing a similar outfit to Wanda.

There was an empty seat between them and the youngest members of the Avengers. Shuri, who was T’challa’s sister, wore a complex corset in white and black. She sat across from Peter Parker, who was said to be the youngest. Behind them, Sam was seated, he wore a dark outfit. Behind him, Steve and Bucky were seated on either side of your suitor.

Carol Danvers outshone the group surrounding her with ease. The blonde wore a peacock blue, floor-length gown, the back of which reached down to the middle of her back. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before, everything around you was like nothing you had ever seen before.

The feast was extravagant. During the first half an hour, you resorted to first names rather than listing their ranking and their full names.

Your knight and an archer you were told was Clint, had gone to a bar in the corner of town. You weren’t surprised by their absence, but you were confused by it. The rest of the group dismissed their behavior, speaking of their retirement, they were the oldest members alongside Steve and Tony who was retired.

Throughout the meal, you found the group to be friendlier towards you than you had expected. Past suitors only cared about your status and your appearance. Here, they seemed to care about what kind of person you were rather than superficial needs.

You found yourself enjoying yourself, laughing, and joking with the people surrounding you. The comfort which came from speaking with them was absent in speaking to the friends of your father. It was comforting in a way you weren’t used to yet.

“So y/n,” Wanda interrupted, turning to face you and resting her chin on her palm, blue-green eyes peering into yours.

“I’ve heard your parents are trying to find you a suitor,” Her voice dripped with suggestion towards the blonde at the head of the table.

Silence befell the table, they turned to look at you, stopping all conversations. You ran your tongue over your teeth, smirking and reaching forwards to take a sip of your drink. Every action you made carefully observed by the group around you.

“They are,” You answered, taking a sip of your drink as you pretended to be oblivious to the evident implication.

Conversations started again, the main topic was you and your kingdom. You smiled at the attention, far too used to it already. Looking across the table, you saw hazel eyes fixated on your every move. Tilting your head to the side, you sent a subtle wink towards her.

Carol beamed, raising her drink for a toast to you. Glasses clinked, voices sounded through the dining hall. The night was spent talking, Carol spoke to you often, asking you questions, slipping in flirtatious comments.

A week went by this way. Days were spent in the castle, talking to the group you were starting to become so familiar with. The nights were spent in lavish feasts which often lasted till late morning.

Letters were sent from your father to make up your mind under a month. The pressure was more imminent as days passed, but you paid no heed to it. But the letters were beginning to be more aggressive. He began to threaten you, his pressure on this marriage like an impending doom.

Carol spent most of her time with you, flirting, asking questions, talking to you. There were countless subtle touches, her hand brushing against yours, numerous cheek kisses. The attention bordered the line between overbearing and enjoyable.

By the end of the week, T’challa had arrived back to the castle from a battle. He wore a black cutaway coat with silver lines adorning the sleeves and the shoulders. The welcome for him was as, if not more, extravagant than the welcome for you.

On his return, a celebration was announced.

The nobles of the kingdom were expected to attend. More wine and ale than you had ever seen was imported into the castle for the famed celebration.

The night of the celebration was more extravagant than you could have ever dreamed of. Golden chandeliers were hanging from the rooftops, bathing the rooms in golden light. The main dining hall was set with lavish dishes from faraway lands.

The table was set for twenty. All of the Avengers were present, except for Natasha who had remained adamant about not attending the feast. However, you caught glances of her passing through the halls, watching you.

There were many new faces, a dark-haired woman named Valkyrie who seemed to be close friends with Thor and Carol. Valkyrie had chosen to wear a sort of leather armor with an elegant skirt flowing along her legs.

A few relatives of T’challa were present as well, celebrating his victory as well as his arrival. His mother had worn an elegant white ballgown, his sister, Shuri had chosen on a gown with vibrant colors and an elegant yet practical design. He had chosen an outfit similar to what he wore the day he arrived, minimalistic but regal.

Outfits for the party were all custom made, showing the design and taste of each person. Carol, on the other hand, had worn a peacock blue outfit, straight fit trousers, and a white and gold shirt underneath the blue jacket.

The rest of the Avengers had chosen their colors. Steve and Bucky had chosen matching outfits consisting of red, blue, and black. Sam had chosen a dark yet regal outfit with a red coat, similar to Steve’s.

Wanda and Vision had chosen a set of striking outfits with scarlet and a light yellow. The gown Wanda wore was the envy of most around you. But your entrance in the room had changed the attention in the room, all of it was directed towards you. Your gown was floor-length, a beautiful embroidery of golden roses on top of favorite/color.

Wine and beer were served, you drank more than usual. You got tipsy, more than the people surrounding you. Carol had already moved to your side of the table, sitting next to you, her thigh brushing yours.

Flirtatious comments subtly touch and bright smiles filled the night. Everyone around you saw how intoxicated you were. Many advised for you to leave the feast, but you refused the advice. Instead, sticking to Carol’s side as she spoke to you.

The blonde saw how intoxicated you were, but she wasn’t taking advantage of you. Carol was adamant about making sure you were alright, she took the drinks away from you to prevent any further accidents. You were leaning on her shoulder, laughing as you set your hand on her thigh.

Neither of you noticed the jealous green eyes which drifted in and out of the room. Natasha’s behavior during the recent feasts was found strange by many of the group. But none of them knew why they assumed she was retiring soon.

The mask was never taken off near you.

“Do you wanna go back to my room?” You whispered into her ear, voice raspy and low.

The act you were putting on, of being an overly intoxicated princess who couldn’t hold her drinks, seemed to be working on everyone around you. Most of the glasses of wine you had taken were water.

“Sure,” Carol agreed, smiling at you.

The blonde helped you up, your arm rested on her shoulders, Carol’s arm wrapped around your waist. You stumbled across the steps, laughing, trying to keep the little composure you had left. Never had you ever let yourself get this intoxicated, but you thought you could use the courage.

Behind you, the soft footsteps of Natasha were barely heard over your intoxicated laughter.

“Let’s get you into bed,” Carol said, leading you into your room and setting you down on your bed.

The door behind her shut with a soft click, locking Natasha out.

The green-eyed knight fidgeted outside your door, waiting for a sound, anything. Natasha assumed she knew why you brought Carol to your room, but she hoped she was wrong.

But Natasha’s assumptions were wrong.

Carol wasn’t going to take advantage of your drunken state. The blonde was gratuitous enough to help you into bed.

The blankets were laid on top of you, most of the candles snuffed out. The only light in the room consisted of the lamp by your bedside and the moonlight leaking through the windows.

“Why don’t you want me?” You asked, reaching out for the blonde by your side.

“I want you,” Carol answered, resting her arms on top of yours to tuck them into the heavy furs.

“But I don’t want to be your drunken mistake,”

A frown crossed your face, but you decided not to argue. Instead, pouting and setting your head onto the pillow. Carol’s hazel eyes looked into yours, she sighed and began to get up when you spoke again.

“Do you think we could get married someday?” You blurted, stopping the blonde in her tracks.

Carol stumbled but turned around to face you. Tilting her head to the side, she crossed the room in a few strides to get to you. Weighing the answer in her mind, she moved the hair out of your face.

“Maybe, ask me that when you aren’t drunk,” Carol answered, a smile on her face.

Accepting the answer, you stared up at her. Your composure was almost gone, you weren’t the ethereal princess who everyone knew about. Now, you were just a woman who wanted another woman.

“I think you’re really hot by the way,” You said, trying to pull her into bed with you using her sleeve.

“Feeling’s mutual,” She pulled the blanket up to your shoulder and smiled at you.

When you didn’t say anything else, she leaned down to kiss the top of your head. After wishing you a goodnight, she left your room. Glancing back at your form one more time, she smiled and opened the door.

A blast of heat, light, and the smell of alcohol hit her. In front of her, a dark figure stood there. Surprised, she closed the door, as she recognized the armor.

“Natasha?” Carol asked, confirming her suspicions when she noticed the black widow mark on the top of her head.

"What are you doing here?”

Natasha stumbled slightly, shifting her weight from foot to foot. The blonde frowned at the helmet, not knowing why the knight was adamant on keeping it on around you. Natasha usually avoided the suitors who came to the castle, for her to spend her time around you with the helmet on was a surprise to her.

“I, I’m supposed to protect y/n.” Natasha stuttered, clenching her jaw as she tried to hide her emotions.

Carol raised a perfect eyebrow at the reasoning. The blonde expected Natasha to correct herself, but she had no such intentions. Sighing, Carol patted her shoulder.

“She’s in the most heavily guarded castle in the kingdom, she’s safe,” Carol assured, rolling her eyes and returning to the party downstairs.

Natasha ignored Carol’s assurances and opened the door to your room, closing it behind her quickly. Unable to see in the dim lighting, she used a matchstick to light the lamp on the side of the door. The room was flooded with candlelight.

You were in the corner of the room, attempting to take off your dress but failing. The corset was near impossible to take off, you had needed Mia’s assistance to simply put it on. To take it off by yourself presented itself as a near-impossible task.

“Greetings,” You muttered when you noticed the green-eyed knight standing in your room.

Before Natasha could ask you if you needed anything, you interrupted her and thrust your back towards her so she could help you. Confused, the redhead took a step back, colliding with the heavy door behind her.

“Can you help me with this?” You pointed to the clasp of the corset you were unable to undo.

Clenching her jaw, Natasha undid the clasp. The corset and the rest of the dress fell off your back and pulled at your feet, revealing the thin garments you wore underneath it. They consisted of a sleeveless single silk slip on which ended just shy of your knees.

Around Natasha, you dropped the act of being an intoxicated princess. Changing back into the woman everyone knew to be an elegant princess. But you had too much alcohol in you to be yourself. Stumbling, you fell onto your bed as you pulled pins out of your hair.

Natasha was about to leave now that she had seen you were alright, but your voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Stay,”

“I’m not-” Natasha began, but you cut her off.

“It’s an order,” You commanded, using your authoritative tone, but softened it. “stay.”

Looking up at her with pleading eyes, the person you were right now was the opposite of the woman Natasha had grown used to. You were in no form elegant or poised, you were tired and drunk. But you still kept up your composure, almost as if clinging onto a pedestal.

“Looks like I don’t have a choice then,” Natasha turned around, sitting down on the leather ottoman on the side of the bed. She ran her fingers through the soft fur of the blankets, keeping her distance from you.

Laying down on the bed, you face the knight at your bedside. Sighing, you reached out for her arm and pulled her so she was seated next to you.

Natasha swallowed, licking her lips nervously under the helmet. Her gaze slipped to your face, you had taken off most of the makeup you had been wearing for the feast. But you looked ethereal, the moonlight reflecting in your eyes and softening your features. The candlelight illuminated the other side of your face, creating a soft gradient across your features.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You asked, voice soft and unsure as you drew Natasha out of her trance.

“Of course,” Natasha nodded, her voice muffled slightly by the mask on her face. She was adamant as to not take it off around you. Her fear of your judgment overriding her hatred of the helmet.

“I don’t want Carol,”

Your secret surprised Natasha, her eyes widened drastically. The knight leaned back on the ottoman, almost as if slapped. Opening and closing her mouth, she decided to ask why you are deciding to marry her.

“Then why-,”

“Because she’s the best option there is,” You cut her off, seeming more sober as the minutes passed.

Natasha was unable to respond, your response was something she had never even dreamed of. She assumed you always got what you wanted. It was the persona you always held up, a beautiful princess who knew what she wanted and how to get it. This contradicted your persona entirely.

“There are people that are worse than her,” You rambled into the silence, “She’s attractive, smart, strong and powerful,”

The green eyes knight pursed her lips under the mask. Reality began to set in, Natasha didn’t have nearly as much power or influence as Carol did. If you were to be with her, your father would not spare you. As it is, Natasha had seen the aggressive letters he kept sending you, you weren’t as careful to hide them.

Exhausted from the lack of response, you faced her with a furious glare.

“Say something,” You demanded, watching Natasha turn to face you, catching another glimpse of emerald eyes. They were glinting in the moonlight, they showed with a sadness you hadn’t seen in them before.

“What would you like me to say?” Natasha asked, her thinly veiled jealousy beginning to show. Flinching at her hard tone, you rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Anything,” You said exasperatedly, gesturing to her and chuckling groggily. “You’re supposed to be my knight in shining armor so to say,”

Natasha bit back a laugh, considering it rude to laugh at the princess she was supposed to protect. Unable to hold back a chuckle, she began to pull the blanket up to your shoulders for you to sleep.

“You’re drunk,” She stated, biting back another laugh at your state.

“Noticed that,” You muttered, yawning and turning to bury your face into the pillows.

Natasha observed you, your relaxed state as well as the thick furs laying above you. Seeing there was no reason for her to stay, she began to leave. Her soft footsteps caught your attention, you turned to face her.

“I thought I told you to stay,” You muttered sleepily, eyes half-closed as you looked at her. The green-eyed knight turned around, tilting her head to the side.

“And do what?” Natasha asked, gesturing around her. You shrugged, sighing, and burrowing yourself into the pillows around you.

“Protect me,” You muttered into your pillow, finally succumbing to the lullaby of sleep.

Natasha began to protest, but you were fast asleep. Sighing, she settled on the ottoman near your bed, watching you sleep as thoughts raced through her mind.

———————

Light from the morning sun flooded the room, reflecting off of the mirrors in your room, effectively waking you up. Groaning, you shoved the furs off of you and looked around. A headache presented itself, causing dizziness.

Almost falling back down on the bed, you glanced around the room for a glass of water. It seemed the few drinks you drank had affected you more than you had expected. Your door opened to reveal a certain green-eyed knight carrying a tray with a loaf of bread and a cup of tea.

Using her foot to nudge the ottoman next to your table, she set it down on top of it and handed you the cup of tea. You swirled the cup of tea, observing the sediment in the bottom. The smell was unfamiliar to you.

“What’s in it?” You asked, unable to identify what kind of tea it was.

“Chamomile,” Natasha answered. You winced, chamomile was one of your least favorite flavors of tea.

“It’s supposed to help.”

Taking a sip of the tea, you found it wasn’t as bad as you expected. Mint was mixed into it to give it a nicer flavor to it. It was the only reason you were able to drink it. The tea was also the perfect temperature.

Sipping the tea, you began to recall the events of yesterday. Carol had come to your room, but she had left. You’d spoken to Natasha about something, you weren’t sure what you had said. All you could remember was it was something you didn’t want to let anyone else know.

Your face paled, you didn’t know what you had told her.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked, noticing your face turn pale as you stared at the wall in front of you. Clearing your throat, you turned to face her, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

“What, what did I say yesterday?” You stammered, fear seeping into you as your chest tightened.

“Nothing important,” Natasha waved it off, lying through her teeth.

A lifetime in court with lying nobles had taught you how to smell a lie from a mile off. The signs were clear now as ever.

“No, tell me, now,” You demanded, tone imposing and commanding.

“Still ordering me around, are we?” The knight joked, trying desperately to lighten the mood. What you had told her last night could potentially ruin you, she could understand your panic.

“No, I didn’t,” You stuttered, struggling to correct the situation.

Ordering people was what your father did, you did not want to be your father. Not now, not ever. Groaning, you rubbed your temples, unable to say anything without making the situation worse than it already was.

“Fine,” Natasha muttered, collecting her thoughts as you turned to face her.

“You, you said you didn’t want to marry Carol,” She stuttered, trying to word it in the best way. The sentence seemed not to offend you or surprise you. But you were intrigued by what else you had spoken in your intoxicated state.

“Did I say why?”

“Because she was the best option,” Natasha answered without hesitation. Perhaps too quickly, but you didn’t seem to notice.

Clenching your jaw, you leaned back to face the ceiling. Thoughts ran through your head faster than you could process. What you had told Natasha wasn’t false, but it wasn’t something you should have told her. Your words could ruin you, but the green-eyed knight proved herself trustworthy.

“I wasn’t lying for sure,” You chuckled, facing the rock ceiling above you.

You were aware of the emerald eyes fixed on you, but you chose to ignore it.

“I thought it was just a drunken mistake,” Natasha murmured, letting her thoughts slip into her words. Her eyes were fixed on you, watching every action. Your lips twitched up into a smile, a genuine smile.

“No, I don’t lie when I’m drunk apparently,” You smiled, looking at her.

Seconds passed, your smile faded as you turned your attention back to the cup of tea in your hands. The knight had been right, chamomile was perfect for your state. It had helped with your headache and the thirst.

But you felt suffocated. Everything was closing in on you. Your father’s demands for you to wed, Carol’s proposal, the attention. You could barely breathe.

“We can go get breakfast,” Natasha suggested, noticing how you were still sitting on your bed despite finishing the tea.

You groaned at the implications. Breakfast was around the group you were growing overly familiar to. Their company you could handle, but Carol was another matter. The blonde would want to discuss the proposal and other matters you didn’t want to deal with.

“Or we could go away from this for a little bit,” Natasha offered, seeing how you wanted to get out of the castle.

You snorted in laughter at the suggestion and turned to face her.

“With you looking like you just came out of Lancelot,” You gestured to her outfit sarcastically, “I’m fine thank you,”

Natasha rolled her eyes at your antics. She knew she needed to take off the helmet to get you out of here. Her fear of judgment was slowly dwindling when she saw how you were looking around the room for a way to get out undetected.

A loud sigh from the knight’s direction caused you to turn towards her. Two of her fingers were caught underneath the bottom of the helmet, indicating she was about to take it off. Her hand went in a sweeping motion up her face.

The motion slowly revealing milky white skin, full lips, and gorgeous emerald eyes you had grown used to being watched by. Rust hair fell from the helmet, framing her face and falling onto her shoulders.

Sunlight reflected off the mirrors and the gold and onto her face, giving it a golden lighting. The light illuminated her features, lighting up her emerald eyes. Her eyes fixated on you, gauging your reaction. Her fear of your judgment taking over as she stared at your face.

You licked your lips, admiring her features. Everything from her rust hair, to her flawless skin and emerald eyes, entranced you.

Looking at her, she was someone you wanted to run away with. Never had you ever thought about running away from this life. It was the only thing you knew, the politics, the complications, the attention, you’d made your home in it.

Something stirred inside you, you never thought you could feel this way. You never thought you could see someone who looks as tired, as lost as you do. Natasha wanted to get away, you could see it from her expression. It was the same expression you wore daily.

Emerald eyes flickered up to yours, finally looking you in the eyes. You swallowed, weighing your words inside your head.

“So,” You began, your voice higher than usual. Emotions were beginning to flicker across your face, you inhaled sharply to stop showing your emotions, adamant on keeping your composure.

Clearing your throat, you looked up at the redhead for guidance. You hardly ever looked up to anyone to tell you what to do. But you were out of your field, Natasha knew what she was doing better than you did. You guessed she had done this before.

“I have some commoner clothing you can change into,” Natasha said, lips twitching up into a smirk. The redhead was enjoying this exchange of power from you to her. You coughed and slid off of the bed.

“Right,”

———————

Natasha’s commoner clothing consisted of a simple tunic and loose pants. You picked endlessly at the discolored tunic, confused by the discolored garment they wore. The redhead had made sure you weren’t wearing any jewelry as not to attract attention.

Your clothes made little to no sense. Why must you wear such a drab garment just to get out of the castle? Natasha walked out of the bathroom wearing a similar outfit, her hair tied behind her head elegantly.

“What sort of abomination am I wearing?” You demanded, picking at the threads coming out of the tunic.

The green-eyed knight rolled her eyes and sighed.

“It’s a tunic and pants,” Natasha explained, gesturing to your outfit while heading towards the door.

“Exactly, abomination,” You muttered, following her out the door of your room and through a hallway which you assumed led out of the castle.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Natasha led you out of the castle.

The clothes you wore, the lack of makeup and jewelry, none of it was something you were used to. Sneaking out wasn’t something you had ever done before. It terrified you, but you weren’t willing to show Natasha that.

——————

Inside the castle, you were dignified and respected. Out here, where no one knew who you were, it was the opposite. They treated you as just another commoner. It shocked you.

What shocked you most was the filthy streets, the wonder of the street entertainers, the talent of the musicians, the smell of the food sold by the street vendors. Natasha had bought you some meat and bread from a nearby street vendor, it was spiced better than the meat in the castle. The bread was fresher and better tasting than anything you’d eaten before.

But the conditions they lived in were near disgusting. Waste and garbage lined the streets, puddles of water, and other liquids filled the potholes. It was disgusting.

Roaming around the streets, you watched everything in wonder. Never did you have the opportunity to roam the streets this way.

Natasha walked by your side, watching anyone who dared to give you a second glance. Even without the makeup, the gowns, and the jewelry, you were easily the most beautiful person Natasha had ever seen. It didn’t surprise her the few posters lining the walls with drawings of you.

The drawings emphasized the jewelry and the wealth surrounding you. It did little to enhance your features or show the sharpness of your eyes. The drawing made it impossible to relate you to the princess they had heard so much about.

When you went to look at a near street vendor selling handmade art and embroidery, Natasha noticed a few men who had been there at the last street vendor. They seemed not to be doing anything. Surrounded by the crowds of people, they stuck out by sitting still.

Natasha knew something was wrong when they began to walk towards you.

Eyes widening, she took your elbow and dragged you into a nearby valley despite your protests. The alley smelled of human waste as well as stale food. Your nose wrinkled, you opened your mouth to insult Natasha’s actions, but she interrupted you.

“There are people following us,” Natasha stated, eyes boring into yours as she pushed you further into the alley, “Unless you want to show them who you are, stay quiet.”

You raised an eyebrow at her actions. Even though you weren’t in control of what happened around you, you still had your dignity. Natasha could see her actions had been to command, it wasn’t her place to order you. The redhead doubted if anyone could tell you what to do.

“Princess,” Natasha smirked, using your title to push you against the wall.

You licked your lips nervously, watching the action tantalize Natasha as she glanced behind you to where she had seen the men. The redhead’s hands rested on your shoulders, ensuring you didn’t attempt to escape.

“Are they still there?” You asked, turning your head to see.

“Yes,” Natasha answered, using her thumb to guide your face back to look at her. Frowning at the action, you pursed your lips.

“How are you-”

Natasha cut you off by pressing her lips to yours, pushing you further into the wall. The stones on the brick wall hurt your back, but you barely noticed. Her lips moved over yours, her bottom lip driving into your mouth as your breaths mingled.

Eyes fluttered shut against each other as she moved to tilt her face against yours, lips moving in sync. Hands found their way to your neck, twining themselves into your hair, pulling you closer. Your hands rested on her hips, unsure to pull her closer or push her away.

It felt too euphoric to end, but it wasn’t right to do this. Your responsibilities the furthest thing in your mind as you kissed the green-eyed knight.

Natasha pulled away first, breathless as she turned around to see the men following you. Stunned, your eyes began to flutter open to look into emerald eyes. The situation finally striking you, your eyes widened as you tried to push her away.

“What on Earth was that?” You demanded, voice hushed.

You lifted your chin stubbornly, trying to hold onto some golden pedestal. The redhead smirked, licking her lips and looking around.

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” Natasha answered, a smirk on her face.

The smirk quickly dissipated when she noticed the men were closing in on her. They must have noticed the drawing and correlated you to it

Clenching your jaw as a blush began to creep up your face, you began to demand to go back to the castle. The stone walls guaranteed you security, here, you were out in the open.

“They are still around,” Natasha hissed, trying to get you to stop talking.

Glaring at her, you pushed her away, intending to go back to the castle. But before you could move, you saw Natasha get pulled away by one of the men following you.

A flash of red hair, she was on top of the man, hitting him on the head aggressively and taking him out. The motion attracted the attention of a few other men in the pungent alley. Natasha knew she couldn’t take all of them, she tried to drag you away from the alley.

But more men had recognized you blocking your path. They all seemed to know they could get rich just by kidnapping you.

Natasha stood in front of you, pulling you to stand behind her. You clenched your jaw, cowering behind her, trusting the green-eyed knight to protect you. Fear began to take over you, escape from this seemed a long lost prospect.

One of the men charged at you, Natasha pushed you aside and went to the other side, delivering a kick to his head. The other men began to charge towards her. You tumbled in the corner, scared, unsure of what was happening around you.

Almost five men were attacking Natasha, fear began to creep through you. If she died, you would be alone again. Never would you have the chance to experience something you never had.

Deciding to reveal your identity, you rushed out into the street and commanded one of the knights to help. They ignored you at first, but when you pushed towards them the little jewelry you’d worn around your neck, they finally began to obey.

A few of them rushed into it, pulling them apart. Many of them tried to run away, but few succeeded. They were pinned to the ground while knights shouted at them to stay down. You paid little heed

Blood covered the floor, your breath hitched as you ran towards the source. On the ground, there was a sight you hoped you wouldn’t see. A knife stuck out of Natasha’s side, dark, red blood pooled around it. Natasha was cradling the knife, demanding weakly that it not be pulled out.

You took charge of the situation, pushing their commander aside to help her. Ordering some of the knights to create a makeshift gurney, you instructed the commander to put Natasha on the gurney after wrapping the wound.

Panic began to seep through you. Blood was everywhere, on the ground in the alley, on the makeshift gurney. But all if it was on your hands. Every drop of blood Natasha lost was on your hands. If you hadn’t been adamant to escape, this wouldn’t be happening.

But now was not the time to pity yourself and your decisions, no matter how foolish they are in hindsight.

One of the street vendors knew how to deal with wounds, they applied pressure and bandaged it not to bleed out. No one around you dared question your orders or your authority. The tone of voice you used was only one they had heard from nobles or the Avengers themselves. It was feared and obeyed.

Angrily, you commanded the knights to speed up to get Natasha back to the castle. The redhead was twisting and turning in the gurney, trying to stop the bleeding. The cloth on the gurney was soaked in blood, it began to drip on the floor you passed, leaving a trail.

Knights pushed people aside to get to the doctors which occupied the left-wing of the castle. You followed them, instructing messengers to inform the Avengers of the situation and to get the doctors ready. Your voice shook despite the authority it exuberated.

After preparing everything, you went to the side of the gurney to speak with Natasha. But the redhead was unconscious, blood still leaking out of the wound. You might never get your chance.

Doctors pushed you out of the room, stating they needed to operate immediately. Despite your protests, your commands to be let in. They refused to let you stay. You finally let them push you out of the room.

There were a few leather couches for people to wait. It should have been comfortable, but it felt like needles.

Bright sunlight streamed through the windows, boots clicking sounded on the stone ground as you paced. No sounds were coming through the room, the blame of all of this was falling on you. You were sure everyone had been notified of this incident and were coming down immediately.

The first to see you was Carol, she ran into the room, furious. Her clothes the same she wore in court.

“Y/n, what the hell were you thinking?” Carol demanded, voice deep and furious.

You whirled around angrily, no one could speak to you in that tone. It made you feel small, controlled. The same way your father spoke to you. Never did you want to feel the same way.

“Don’t forget who you’re speaking to,” You shouted, expression, tone authoritative and angry.

The clothes you wore did little to compliment the famous princess. But you were still in control, not Carol, not your father, you.

The blonde flinched visibly, her features softening.

Biting your lip, you sighed and leaned against the wall. The way you spoke, everything about the way you were acting, it reminded you of your father. The mere idea of becoming like him was despised.

“My apologies,” You licked your lips and sighed, sitting down in the chair in front of the room. “I’m just worried,”

Carol sighed, you looked smaller, worried. You were the shell of the person she had grown to known. Natasha getting hurt, the idea of her not being there for you was ruining you. The blonde could never hope to get you to care for her this way.

But it wasn’t the time to talk to you about it.

“So am I,” Carol sat down next to you.

Sitting next to you, she kept enough distance as not to touch you. Her fear of angering you again prevented her from speaking. When she found out about Natasha leaving the castle, panic had set in. The same panic was consuming her now. But Carol knew Natasha would be alright, she had to be. The redhead couldn’t leave you alone like this.

Hours passed in silence, many members of the Avengers flitted in and out of the room. Their gazes held to blame and pity for you. The mixture infuriating, but there was nothing you could do. The blame was on you. A few gazes stayed for some time, but they left eventually. Carol was the only one staying with you while you waited for Natasha.

Carol made up her mind to convince you to rest for a few hours when she noticed the sun begin to go down. But before she could speak, Dr. Cho exited the room with a relieved smile on her face. She reassured both of you that Natasha would be okay. Her loss of blood had led to her unconsciousness, but she would wake in a matter of hours.

Until then, Cho advised both of you to rest.

You smiled and watched as Carol let her off of duty, her dazzling smile and calm composure assuring them everything was alright. The rest of the doctors, clearly exhausted from the operation, also left.

Relief flooded you, you leaned back in your seat, resting your head against the cold stone wall. Your eyes began to relax as you breathe deeper. Carol watched you relax, she could see the exhaustion in your features.

But she decided it was time she call this off and free you.

“You care for her,” Carol began, leaning against the wall. “don’t you?”

“I-,” You clenched your jaw to prevent snapping at her and lifted your head to face her.

“Yes I do,” You confessed quietly.

The blonde’s face morphed into a sad smile. You couldn’t understand why she was smiling. Afraid of saying something you shouldn’t have, you began diplomacy. Stating vague answers about how you care for each and every life, not just Natasha’s.

You had little trouble lying to her, lying had become like breathing for you.

But you could see it wasn’t working.

“Y/n, it’s okay,” Carol chuckled sadly, sighing and sitting down beside you again. Her thigh brushed yours, but you moved away.

“That is supposed to have some meaning?” You asked, raising a perfect eyebrow.

Carol turned to face you, examining your features. Your features were hard, not showing any emotion. It was something you’d been taught as a child, you didn’t know better. The blonde chuckled sadly, you were someone she had wanted, badly, but she couldn’t keep you.

“It means you can stop pretending you want me,”

“I-I, I don’t,” You stuttered, eyes widening as you licked your lips. “I don’t understand what you are saying,”

Jaw clenching and unclenching, you tried to stop fidgeting with your fingers. The pressure was hanging over your head constantly affected you, but you were adamant not to show it.

“I’m saying you care more for her than I could ever hope you would care for me,” Carol said, her hazel eyes soft.

Your eyes widened, but you didn’t protest. The blonde wasn’t lying. You couldn’t see yourself being happy with Carol. Everything about her was perfect, too perfect. There would be more pressure on you to be perfect.

It wouldn’t work.

“I’ll speak with your father and call this off.” Carol got up, brushing the dust off of her pants.

“You can stay here with Natasha as long as you wish, just don’t go outside without more protection again,” Carol warned, giving you a small, sad smile.

“Is that an order?” You asked, voice soft and nervous.

“I don’t think anyone gives you orders,” Carol smiled and shook her head before walking away, leaving you alone.

“I think you might be right,” You muttered, opening the heavy door into the operation room and closing it with a dull thud.

The redhead was paler than ever, her limbs at her sides as her unopened eyes facing the ceiling. She looked peaceful, eerily peaceful. Unused to seeing her without the mask, you couldn’t help but observe her features.

Natasha was easily one of the most gorgeous women you had ever seen. Her eyes were perfectly shaped, her lips looked soft, she was perfect. Being with her wouldn’t add pressure, it would relieve it. You wouldn’t need to worry about having to be perfect, you could just live in the shadows. It seemed more tempting than staying for the crown.

———————

Moonlight streamed through the small window in the side, hitting your eyes. But the light wasn’t what caused you to wake up, it was the voice speaking to you combined with the soft touch on your hands. Opening your eyes, you saw Natasha sitting up in bed, her hand protectively cradling her wound.

“Your highness, are you okay?” Natasha asked you, voice raspy as she reached towards your hand.

“You should sleep.”

Her words barely made their way past your ears. You smiled, eyes lighting up when you saw your knight alive, and healthy. Getting up from your seat, you leaned in towards the redhead quickly, giving her little to no time to react.

Your hands came up behind her neck, pulling her towards your lips. Her lips crashed into yours, they were chapped but soft. Smiling into the kiss, you reached up to twine your fingers into her hair. Natasha rested one hand on your hip, fingers playing with the end of your tunic.

It felt like euphoria like you were finally free. There was no pressure to do anything, no one’s metal hand above your head to do the right thing. There was only what you wanted, who you wanted.

Natasha couldn’t pull away, it was the calmest she had ever felt. Your lips on hers were intoxicating, you were like a drug she couldn’t get enough of.

But she couldn’t have you.

Reality came back to her, she pulled away, breathless, panting, trying to keep away from you. You tilted your head to the side curiously, eyes scanning her features. Her breath hit your face as she tried to move away from you.

“I, I can’t,” Natasha stuttered, confused by the feeling of your fingers running against her scalp.

You laughed, keeping yourself close to her. Moving to sit next to her on the bed, you ran your fingers through her hair before pulling away completely. Your laughter filled the room, Natasha found herself smiling at the sound.

“Why are you laughing?” Natasha asked, confusion lacing her tone.

Shaking your head, you faced her, a light smile on your face. You rested your hand on her thigh, watching her fluster.

“I spoke to Carol,” You began, tapping her thigh to bring her attention back to your face. “she left to speak with my father to call the proposal off.”

“You what?” Natasha blurted, eyes wide as she scanned your features for any sign of lying. “for me?”

You chuckled and nodded, watching her soft smile. But the more you ran this situation in your head, the worse it seemed. The knight assigned to protect you was the one falling for you rather than the suitor you were here to wed. Your father had been adamant about this wedding, more than any other suitor.

“I’m not entirely sure on how it’s going to go but-” You began, thinking of your father and his reaction.

Natasha leaned forwards and pressed her lips to yours, erasing any thoughts from your mind. Her lips moved in sync over yours, breaths mingling, hands holding each other closer. It was like a fantasy, a fantasy neither of you had ever dared to indulge in, too afraid of the fear of it becoming a dream. But your fantasy was a reality, what more could you

ask for?

———————

Your life was supposed to be perfect, you had the only woman you wanted to marry, the life you were used to, people you cared about you. There was nothing more you could have wanted. But all of it was being denied to you from your father.

A letter had arrived, stating the entire idea of marrying the knight assigned to protect you was ridiculous. Your father denied the notion, demanding you get married to your suitor or he would disown you. Disowning was almost like banishing you from the only life you knew.

“How could he do this?” You demanded, pacing your room.

Heels clicked on the stone-cold floor as you walked from end to end. Mia sat on your bed, trying to console you. Natasha had not yet heard about the letter in your hands.

“He has never forced me to do something like this!” You shouted, angrily throwing the letter on the other side of the room and sitting on the bed. Taking your head into your hands, you groaned loudly.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,” Mia tried to console you. But even her meager consolations weren’t helping, you didn’t know what would.

“You want to marry her more than I do,” You scoffed, beginning to come up with more insults for your situation when a knock at the door stopped you.

Angrily shouting for the person to come in, you lifted your head to look. Carol stood in the doorway, looking like she had just come out of court. She wore an elegant coat over a suit, the entire entourage was white and gold. Her hair styled elegantly.

“I’m assuming you heard about your father.” Carol began, she had gotten a version of the letter before. Your father tended to do these things, he sent an aggressively worded letter to you, a diplomatically worded letter to the nobles of the castle.

“Oh she did,” Mia muttered, cowering slightly when she caught your cold glare.

Turning to face the blonde, you crossed your arms expectantly.

“I have a way out,” Carol stated, your eyes widened slightly.

“How so?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

“I know someone who could take your place as a princess,” Carol said, licking her lips nervously at the implications. “, you could still marry Natasha,”

“Who?” You asked Carol waved off your concerns.

“A friend,” The blonde bit her lip nervously. The catch to this way out would cost you everything you held dear.

“You would give up your life as a princess for her,” Carol stated, you opened your mouth to protest. “and in return, you get to be with Natasha,”

You stopped. This would change everything. The life you were used to consisted of being a princess, it consisted of holding power and being in control. If you did this, you would no longer be in control, you would live in the shadows as just another noble in Carol’s court.

Were you willing to give up everything you knew for Natasha?

Seeing your hesitation, Carol began to speak to end the silence.

“You have some time to-” She began, but you were quick to cut her off.

“I agree,” You stated, voice firm but Mia caught the slight waver in your voice.

Carol’s eyes widened, she didn’t think you were going to give up everything for the redhead. Your determination for the opportunity to love her was something she could never hope to gain.

“You’re sure?” Mia asked, her voice a low whisper as she leaned towards you.

You bit your lip and nodded. You’d never been more unsure of anything in your life. If Natasha wasn’t right for you, you’d still give everything up. But the chance to be with her, the chance to live in the shadows, without your father’s iron hand above your head, it was too much to let go.

“I’m sure,”

———————

Telling Natasha about this plan was more disastrous than anyone had hoped. Carol had been the first to tell Natasha, the redhead had objected strongly and rushed up to your room in an absolute panic. In the middle of your packing, Natasha had burst in and demanded to know the reason behind your choices. You were quick to explain to her why the green-eyed knight understood it better than you had hoped.

After all, it was the reason she had gone to your kingdom in the first place, to getaway.

Natasha had helped you move into the suite near hers. From then, you stayed near her.

The wedding was rather extravagant, a woman named Valkyrie whom you had seen earlier had agreed to take your place. It had been quick, as to avoid your father’s knowledge about the switch. But it was extravagantly decorated with the most exquisite feast you’d had.

Giving up your life had proved harder than you had originally thought. It had become the norm for all the attention in the room to be on you, to be in control. The change was harder than you had expected. The redhead by your side was the constant reminder of why you chose to change your life, why you chose her over everything you’d ever known.

To say your father had overreacted to the switch would be an understatement. The king had planned to send an army to the Avenger’s kingdom when he realized there was nothing he could do. You were in control of your life now, not him.

Your story was told throughout the land. It won you the respect of the crowd around you as well as anyone who had ever heard the story.

For years to come, many people went through the kingdom and heard the story of the princess who fooled everyone to get who she wanted. Many wondered why she gave up everything she knew for a knight. But when they passed through the courts and caught sight of you beside Natasha, they understood why you gave up the crown.

A/N: I’ve spent hours on this so any and all feedback would be appreciated!

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @wlw-imaginesss , @hcartbyheart , @summergeezburr , @imnotasuperhero , @thelastavenger-3000 , @a-stressedstudent , @cybeleceto , @aaron-despair let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

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arcade-conspiracy · 4 years

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I didn’t get borderline hate crimed to cause these being written, I’ve just been thinking about this :)

Autistic Shigaraki Headcanons~

This dude has the worst posture you’ve ever seen

He also has the strangest sitting habits you’ve ever seen

He’ll be hunched over and sitting criss-cross on a barstool, and not mind one bit about it

He gets very attached to clothes

He basically has to be forced to change felt that

Once he finds an outfit he’s okay with wearing, it’s not coming off

Very sensitive to touch, and despises being touched by others 90% of the time

If anything he doesn’t like is touching him he will immediately freak out, hence the clothing thing

Also quite sensitive to sound and things happening at the same time

He could never speak to someone and have a tv on in the background at the same time, for example

He can’t focus on one of the things or tune out everything else, so it ends up overwhelming him

Sleep? Who’s she? Shiga only knows insomnia and sleep until 3pm

It’s genuinely worrying how long he’ll go without sleeping just because he simply cannot sleep felt that too

Gets rotating fixations on video games

Every couple of weeks it’s a new one, and best bet he’s infodumping to Kurogiri about it while the other league members aren’t there

He definitely also fixates on whatever the league is up to at that moment, and whatever mission they’re on, be it big and important or small and quick

Gets sensory overload and burnout all the time

Like, it’s nearly everyday with this dude :(

When he’s overloaded he tends to let out the behaviors of his that people call “bratty”, like being over controlling, and freaking out the moment something doesn’t go to plan

Does he have stims? Hella. Is his excessive scratching one? Yes

Though, most of his stims are elaborate, like writing things down in a notebook to watch the ink, reorganizing the shelves in his room, or stacking/playing with cards

Has the most obscure comfort items, which nearly always happen to be random things with faces

Or just inanimate objects hes that are small enough to carry with him, that he feels an attachment to

What can I say, he probably likes crystals

#bun bun writes #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki headcanons #autistic shigaraki #autistic headcanon #actually autistic #autism positivity #i heart

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austarus · 4 years

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Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader - Integrated Revelations (2/3)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me.

*Tbh, I was attempting something and I don’t I feel like I’m getting really bad at writing Eobard.. I’m trying ;-; bear with me things will deviate from the plot. Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

Part 1 Part 3

Word Count: 4687

You shut your eyes, upon reopening them you soundlessly shifted over to your boyfriends’ side as he spoke with a raspy, chilling voice. Like a Queen should to a King. “I mean, who are you really?” Eobard questioned skillfully; one leg crossed over the other. You glanced between both men before your blank gaze settled upon Barry.

“Dr. Wells, what are you doing?”

Eobard’s demeanor did not falter at Barry’s question. The villainous speedster dropped his leg from where it was and sat forward. He hunched himself, elbows pressed onto the edges of the armrests. “None of it adds up. The interference with the comms, the speed equation, the Time Wraith.” You pressed your lips into a thin line as Eobard shook his head while continuing. Barry eyed the dark-haired scientist closely. “That's what we call them. Time Wraiths. Scary, aren't they?” Eobard chuckled darkly to himself. “I thought, ‘Oh, no, a Time Wraith has found me.’ But then I thought, ‘No, no, no.’ You know what you're doing.” He snapped for emphasis. You dropped your gaze, running your fingers over the back of his chair before deciding to take a step back and lean against the pebbled wall. No matter how many times you were in the Time Vault, it always unsettled you the amount of power and knowledge and secrets Eobard can keep within it “Now, the Time Wraith is after someone who's travelled through time...” Eobard tilted his head at Barry, “and doesn't know what they're doing.” A smirk remained plastered on the Wells imposter while Barry’s eyes flickered up at you momentarily. His apprehensive green hues met Eobard’s icy gaze.

Your speedster boyfriend’s words clicked. This version of Barry doesn’t have the faintest idea of how to manipulate time travel like Eobard. He can easily get caught by those monsters. You crossed your arms as you observed the two speedsters. One in control- potent, as always, and the other rendered helpless in those meta-dampening cuffs. Unlike the other version we met. The one who knows about my powers, who denied me an answer.

Barry looked incredulously at Eobard. Choking out a nonchalant laugh, Barry glanced away while feigning his innocence, but the two of you knew this was not your Barry Allen. “Dr. Wells come on. It's me. It's... it's Barry. I don't...” Barry reached out to touch the cool metal of the cuffs. You wanted to step forward to help him out, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to trust this version of Barry either. At least this one’s not giving me headaches.

“Really? You are good.” Eobard puffs out a curt laugh, shaking his head one more and clapping mockingly. “You are good, and I would believe you, except that…” The scientist sped off from his chair, icy blue eyes with a piercing gaze as he towered over Barry. You took a step forward at Eobard’s sudden display with a frown grazing your features and eyes widening a fraction. Intimidation exuded from the older speedster. But your eyes quickly flickered to see Barry’s response. Nothing. “Nothing? I move like this, you barely flinch.” Barry glared up at Eobard with such abhorring emotions in his eyes. “You know who I am. Don't you?” You watched Eobard taunt Barry as he stepped back beside you, leaning back as well. Tension hung thickly in the air. Barry crinkled his nose at you and Eobard then attempted to phase his hand out of the cuffs but to no avail. He should have known better than to try that with those cuffs on. You cleared your throat as Eobard snickered at the younger speedster. “Oh! And you're from the future. Do you know how I know that? Because I haven't taught my Barry Allen how to phase through objects... yet.”

Barry laughed mirthlessly dismissing your existence, but the speedster knew he was defeated. He wasn’t as skilled in the art of deception as you and Eobard were. “Let me out of here, Thawne.”

You heard Eobard sigh at the utterance of his name. Rolling your eyes at his dramatics, you eyed the speedster while he pushed off the wall. “I know. You're upset.” Eobard dragged his white chair to take a seat once more. The genius deceiver coyly grinned at the scarlet speedster, bound to the wheelchair. “But it does me good to hear that name again. Now, onto the bigger question.” He fumbled with his fingers, anticipation- ideas- possible reasons on exactly why The Flash had decided to take another detour to the past whirled inside his mind.

“Why are you here?” You piped up unfurling your arms, instead tucking your hands into the back of your pants pockets. “You’re from a different time obviously, couldn’t you figure out your own problems from there? Why bother looking for solutions in a past you clearly despise?” Barry refused to answer you. “Or do you always need to run to Dr. Wells whenever little Barry Allen gets stuck?” Eobard glanced back at the venom dripping from your words. The hard look on your face, the sheer coldness settling within your eyes at his archnemesis. It made his heart swoon yet… Eobard felt worried at just how frigid you can be. How easy it was for you to turn off those positive emotions that you carry on inside. Would you do the same to him?

“Because I want to go faster,” Barry’s sneered, an abrupt response after your malicious tone caused Eobard’s head to snap back at towards him. “And he’s the only one who can teach me.” The forensics scientist forced out the statement, a steely expression on his face. Barry narrowed his eyes from you down to Eobard, a hint of curiosity in those hazel-greens. “You're the only one who's figured out the equation. The Speed Force. You've manipulated it. How did you do that?”

Before you could say anything, Eobard stood up with crossed arms, whispering to himself. “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No.” The older speedster locked his gaze at the wall, running the tips of his fingers over the pebbled half-spheres. Curiously, you quirked an eyebrow before your eyes met with Barry’s, who only slightly shrugged at you. Eobard circled Barry, like a predator circling its next kill. Instead… you sensed something was off by the way his shoulders tensed. “You'd only come here if something went wrong.”

You uttered; a wave of uneasiness flooded over you, “What-but-”

“-If you're still alive, then that means...” Eobard turned to Barry with a grimace. He was one the other side of the room now. You were between the two men, a good distance between each. Your fingers fidgeted as they now remain beside you, heart clenching that all of this wouldn’t work. Dread began stirring inside you, fueling the headache you head earlier, and a sense of insecurity snatched your heart. So, the other Barry was onto to something, he just didn’t want to tell me… I don’t-We don’t get our happy ending. “I haven't beaten you. If you're still alive... that means my plan fails.” Eobard swallows thickly as the words escaped him, avoiding your gaze as a pained expression crossed his face. I don’t go home. I don’t end up taking her with me, making her my bride like I promised all those nights ago. Living far away together from The Flash robbing me from anything else that brings me joy. He blinked a few times, his moment of realization that he would fail turned to pure ballistic intentions in milliseconds. “And if my plan fails,” you shuddered at Eobard’s frustration flourishing as he kicked the chair over. You felt stunned in your place. You felt small. You hated whenever he was in these rage fits, especially when they were about Barry. “I don't get to go home, and if that's the case, well, then-” Eobard had aggressively rounded in quick strides to the restrained speedster, a phasing hand slicing through the air to strike Barry.

“No, no, no! Hey, hey, hey! It's the opposite! It's the opposite!” Barry shouted rapidly to stop the futuristic speedster, holding a hand out to protect himself from Eobard’s phasing hand. His other arm reflexively pulled at his restraint, wishing he could phase out of the cuffs and manifest his speed again. “It... you trick me. You harnessed my speed. We turn on the accelerator to create a path for you to go home. I go back in time. You go back to yours.” The scarlet speedster nodded his head in your direction as he spoke up again before letting his eyes meet Eobard’s heated gaze. You dare say that you saw a hint of sadness in the young speedster’s eyes when he looked at you. “She goes with you. You won. Yeah.” Barry took a breath in, muscles taut at the prospect of his enemy killing him before he got the chance to stop Zoom and his reign of terror.

“Eobard, stop.” You didn’t know when during the exchange you had found yourself right by his side, maneuvering yourself to stand in front of him, promptly blocking his view of Barry. “Eo, look at me.” He did. The dark-haired man gave you a dangerous look, jaw clenched while you reached out to hold onto his raised arm. Your fingers touched his wrist gently. “Breathe,” you spoke intently, searching his eyes for any sign of reason that he normally held. “Anger blinds even the strongest of people- the smartest of people, including speedsters.” You told us that. The phasing hand subsided as you lowered it with ease. Eobard shut his eyes, his hand slipping into yours as he reopened them. The speedster knew what you were saying, knew that he needed to rationalize before acting- before he executed this version of The Flash.

A disposable version, if it means anything to you.

Barry ran a hand over his opposite shoulder, his arm was beginning to numb in place, but his eyes never left the two of you. He clenched and unclenched his hand to circulate the blood. As volatile as Harry is back in his time, Eobard was on equal par. The only difference being that you never knew exactly when the Reverse Flash would bite back, or to what degree. Barry made no comment when you linked hands, but the brown-haired CSI caught the flicker of change in Eobard’s eyes. The yellow speedster’s anger dissipated behind those baby blue hues as his gaze softened for you. Barry observed how you and Eobard deeply cared for each other. All over again. He almost felt bad for the events that would surely lead to Eobard’s removal from existence and your forever broken heart. How the two of you would be forever separated. Almost.

You were conflicted. Hurt. Frustrated. You dad no clue what to think. Barry’s your best friend. He wouldn’t… intentionally hurt you, would he? But then a way future version of Barry seemingly dismissed your existence and your concerns over Eobard. Now this version treated you with the same dismissal, if not with even more loathing. Both versions clearly knew you were with the man in the yellow suit, but… Your heart is a kind one, no matter how damaged or twisted it could get. Deep down, you knew that whatever version of Barry you meet along the way, he’d always be your best friend. Even if Eobard did despise the young speedster and his existence.

“Then why are you here? Why are you here now?” The yellow speedster reverted to a more defensive stance; eyes now locked with Barry’s. You turned to look at this version of your best friend.

“Because when I got back, a singularity had formed. And now the only way for me to learn how to get faster and stop the singularity from happening was to come here. Now.”

“Well, that's good to know.” Eobard sighed to himself, icy hues glancing to yours as a twisted smile greeted his features. Barry looked up at you for any indication that you would help get him out. You pursed your lips regretfully with hesitation. Eobard walked over to his chair, setting it back before pacing once more in the Time Vault. The heroic speedster was increasingly growing uncomfortable on the cold ground. “There's just... Just one thing that occurs to me. I don't need you. Do I?” You watched him turn to Barry, dismissing the look you shot him. “Not this you certainly. Oops. You probably should've thought of that before you came back here. Shame...” A malicious laugh left Eobard as he slowly approached Barry’s helpless form, his fingers twitching to use the powers of the negative speed-force to end Barry Allen. “You ran all the way back here just to die.”

“You can’t be serious,” you hissed at the man you love, side-stepping in front of Eobard. The corner of his lips twitched in an unsettling manner; amusement slightly present in his eyes. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt him!” A quiet air of relief left Barry. He didn’t… He never knew of the promise you had made with Eobard. That his life wouldn’t be in the hands of death in any way. But he could use this.

“This isn’t your Barry,” Eobard protested in a low voice.

“This is a future version of my best friend, whom you promised me you wouldn’t hurt, maim, and/or kill! Our promise includes any version of Barry Allen.” Eobard chewed on the inside of his cheeks at your words, a sour planted itself on his face when he glanced once more at Barry. The man in the yellow suit knew he would honor his promise to you in the end. He keeps his word, after all.

“You heard her, I’m untouchable.” A cocky smile crossed Barry’s face, shooting it right at Barry. You threw a glare at him, shut the fuck up Barry. I’m the only one holding him back from phasing a hand right through your heart. Any version of you. For once, think before you do something like speaking, especially when you aren’t in a state to be taunting an evil speedster that has you bound. “But by all means, you kill me... Barry... this Barry, your Barry, he learns it all.” He gestured to you and Eobard. Dread filled Eobard as Barry continued to tout out words confidently. The speedster had carefully planned this out, just in case he was to get caught by Thawne. “There's a hidden letter telling him how it ends, how to beat you, everything. Anything happens to me; you never make it back home.” Barry turned to you with stoically cold eyes. “She never sees you again.” Take those words as you will, Thawne. Your hands fell limply beside you as you Eobard clenched his hands into tight fists. You heard your heart drum loudly in your ears at the prospect of this Barry’s threat. With heavy feet, you padded away from Barry before turning to eye him with cautious eyes. Eobard’s face was devoid of any emotion as he took a seat while you settled beside him. “Go on. Kill me, Thawne. See how this all ends.” Eobard held his breath, weighing his options. Pros and cons. Gains and losses. “Now, you're gonna help me get faster.” Resting a hand on Eobard’s shoulder you squeezed it, trying to use your touch to convey ease into him while Barry smirked triumphantly at the two of you. Eobard’s face twitched in silent fuming.

“Dr. Wells, Ms. (L/N),” Gideon’s voice cut through the deadly second of silence, “the time wraith has appeared.” The AI broadcasted a screen of Cisco and Caitlin running to the Pipeline, entering the cell that Hartley resides in and sealing it. Its grotesque body swayed in the air. Half-formed limbs scratching the glass as your friends screamed for any indication that this thing can be yoinked away and out of existence.

“Barry! (Y/N)! Dr. Wells!” Caitlin shrieked as the Time Wraith pounded on the glass, shattering a segment, but not piercing through into the cell. Ghostly fumes emitted from the hauntingly decaying figure. Cisco and Hartley were fumbling with the gauntlets while another piercing scream echoed throughout that sector of the labs.

“Oh my god, we have to do something! It’s going to kill them!” You whipped your head to the two of them. They’re the ones with speed.

“You let it track you here,” Eobard turned with a pointed look at Barry.

Barry shook his restraints, with an anxious look, “Get me out of here! Come on!”

Eobard sneered in a gruff tone, “If that thing comes after me and messes with my plans, you're all dead.”

“Now’s not the time to be making death threats, especially when he’s the one with max speed-force in his veins!” You reprimanded Eobard, who threw you a look while rolling his eyes at you before setting Barry free. Standing up, Barry felt his speed return to him as he shook his numbed limb. The two men nodded at each other, yellow and red electricity crackling in the air. Eobard wrapped a lithe limb around your waist, his other hand firmly grasping the back of his wheelchair. Both speedsters sped out of the Time Vault in a torrent of lightning.

***

“I'm sorry that we didn't come sooner,” Barry apologized, for the 2nd time as he stepped quickly into the Cortex with you trailing behind him and Eobard. His heart was heavy at the prospect of his presence here was causing his friends more trouble than he intended. Caitlin and Cisco took their respective seats at the main Cortex monitors while you and Dr. Wells lingered a bit behind.

“It's all right, Inky's gone. I don't see anything,” Cisco breathed out, eyes focused on the computer screen. He flipped through all the camera footage before turning his head to Dr. Wells. “You know, we'd be toast if wasn't for Hartley and those gauntlets.”

“Well, self-preservation is a very strong motivator, but he stays in the cell until I say otherwise,” Eobard starkly dictated, subtly out of breath from the little run around the labs to the Pipeline. Your eyes raked over him worriedly. He didn’t have all his speed, especially since he used up a good amount on Christmas. Eobard’s body’s still feeling the side effects of his speed-force in a state of flux.

Cisco turned back to the monitors, “Okay, I'm just saying.”

“So, the two places this thing has attacked are here and CCPD.” You took your tablet and ran scans over the Labs then the city for an abnormal particle signature. You also had Gideon secretly run a scan over Barry’s lab, just in case it decided to make a reappearance there. Particularly ones of tachyons or from the speed-force.

“The common denominator being...” Caitlin trailed off, swiveling her chair towards Barry.

“Me. Yeah, I know. I just... I don't know why.” Barry let out an exasperated sigh.

“Well, you must have done something to piss him off.” Cisco added in; his computer pinged negatively after a couple of scans. “Satellite hasn't found anything.”

Eobard nervously wrung his hands, eyes meeting yours for a moment. “We need to find a more permanent solution to this problem.” He gestured when he continued to Caitlin and Cisco. “Start by repairing Hartley's gauntlets. That's about as good a first step as any.”

“I got some parts for it.” Cisco nodded at Dr. Wells, glancing at you. You already knew what he was about to ask.

“I’ve got any vitals and scans for the city until you two come back.” You held up your tablet with a little smile on your face. “Don’t worry, I’ve go your back.”

“Let's go for it,” Caitlin grinned, turning to Cisco. The two of them took their leave. Once they were out of earshot and out of sight you whipped around with an incredulous look on your face.

“You don't know how to stop a Time Wraith?” You and Barry both quired, which irritated Eobard at the sync.

“None of us do.” The speedster responded roughly. You felt bad for Eobard, his entire plan to get home is in jeopardy because of a future version of Barry. “That's why we always try and avoid them in our travels.”

“‘We’?” You and Barry just gave each other looks, simultaneously responding together once more. The scarlet speedster sneered at you, that was enough to shut you up and take a seat back at the monitors.

“‘Speedsters’... we're not the only two out there, you know?”

“This isn't the first time I've time traveled. How come I've never seen one of these until now?”

Eobard stood up, his demeanor clearly showed he was pissed and exasperated, but he kept his emotions in check. Especially with the Time Wraith looming around somewhere. He stepped closer towards Barry. “Because you ran out of luck.” You watched Barry lean against the railing, shaking his head when Eobard continued before grudgingly meeting your eyes. You offered him a sympathetic smile, he reluctantly returned it. “And Time Wraiths hate it when speedsters manipulate the timeline, and now that thing's gonna do everything it can to end you.” You wanted to say something but decided against it. Barry scoffed at Eobard, rolling his eyes when the man turned away from him. “Here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna go to CCPD. You're gonna see what you can find to help us stop this thing-” Eobard nodded at you. You collected your things and got up, ready to work. “-We'll do the same here.”

“Well, what am I supposed to be looking for?

You started, “Barr, You're in forensics-“

“-Figure something out.” The man in the yellow suit only sent a warning glare to Barry, pulling his damned wheelchair along with him.

“Hey, what about the equation? Me getting faster?” Barry’s nostrils flared, stepping forward and gesturing to the clear board that held the speed equation.

“If we don't stop this thing, there's gonna be no point in me teaching you anything.” With that the two parted, Eobard sat back in his chair and he wheeled to his side lab whereas Barry let out an exhausted sigh. He rubbed his face, eyes meeting yours once more. Grabbing his coat, the young speedster pushed past you, his shoulders bumping yours. The action didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, who narrowed his eyes from afar then turned back to his work. Your eyes lingered for a moment before an idea popped into your head.

“I think I should go with him,” you turned towards Eobard, running a hand over your hair and loosening your hair out of the hair tie. Maybe that’ll help with the headaches.

“What?”

“With Barry”

“No, absolutely not!”

“Why not?” You pouted, taking a seat beside him. You subtly wanted to see how many buttons you can push while this version of Barry was here.

“Over my. Rotting. Corpse.”

You froze at his comment, his body was already turned away from you. A mental image of Eobard’s corpse vividly plagued you. Blinking a few times, that phrase echoed in your head. It’s like I’ve heard that before… but where? You needed to shake the feeling off. “Don’t say things like that! If anything happens, I’ll let you know what’s going on.” You lightly slap his arm. The corner of Eobard’s lips turned up slightly then he leaned over for a kiss. You gave him a chaste one to finish your defense on the situation. “Plus, you and I both know you can handle things here at the lab. You don’t need me around.”

“I will always want you to be around me, even if I’m working. Besides the point- stay away from Barry.” He emphasized. “The Time Wraith is here for him; it hasn’t detected me. I don’t…” Eobard sighed through his nose, his gaze locked onto yours and you felt your breath hitch. “I can’t lose you to that monster.”

“…”

“Please, kitten.” He looked at you desperately.

“Only because you said ‘please’,” you kissed his cheek fondly, giving in to him. You didn’t miss the way his voice strained at the thought of losing you or the fact that he asked. Eobard generally never asks, not until he met you. The speedster glanced at you when you were recalibrating the satellites, he noticed the fake grin that you plastered on your face at his corpse comment. He made a mental note to ask you what’s wrong later. It hurt his heart to see you put up a wall right now, but it was understandable, to say the least. “You know, I always like watching you work.”

“Why is that?”

“Dunno, maybe I just like watching you work your magic with those capable hands of yours.”

“I can show you just how capable these hands are tonight.” Your speedster wiggled his eyebrows at you, eliciting a deep blush and giggle. His hand left the device on the table, resting on your thigh. You felt your body temperature spike up even more at his touch.

“Eobard, you can’t say things like that at work!”

“Why not? I’m the boss.” The speedster whispered to you, his blue eyes hypnotizing you. Eobard leaned close, slotting himself to kiss your neck a few times.

A sweet sigh left your lips. “What if the others walk in on us?” You pressed a hand against his sturdy chest. Eobard pressed a kiss below your ear before a chuckle left his lips.

“I’m sure they’ll allow me a free pass, just this once.”

***

After a few hours or so, Cisco and Caitlin came back with the gauntlets. The two explained how the managed to save every piece and analyze their potential. Cisco and Dr. Wells remained in a heavily – mechanical engineer type of conversation that you and Caitlin stayed silent for.

“So, can these gauntlets be salvaged?” Dr. Wells questioned, wheeling closer to the displayed Hartley’s sonic gauntlets.

“Their electron guns are fried,” Cisco shook his head.

“So, it shorted the wave tubes-“

“-And destroyed the amplifiers.” They both finished the thought.

“Yeah, but to be honest with you, I don't know how to manipulate the frequency variance.” Cisco spoke, glancing at the three of you.

“Hartley would know.” Caitlin added in, hands on her sides, “He's the one who did it.”

“As much as a dick that he was, he seems to be an expert with sound waves and frequency variance of such caliber,” you mused, nodding with Caitlin.

“See if he can help, but he stays in the cell,” the genius scientist instructed,

“But then what? That thing's gonna come back.” Cisco retaliated

“I don't know,” Dr. Wells stated exasperatedly. He didn’t know what to do, Hartley’s guns were the only thing he’s known to deter the Time Wraiths. If only the electron guns weren’t fired then he would have been able to dissect and adjust the gauntlets.

“Hey, its going to be ok,” you tried reassuring everyone, mainly Eobard. “We always end up crossing over these kinds of bridges. We’ve got the smartest minds and the most skilled scientists here.” Cisco and Caitlin smiled a bit at you. But you saw the calculating look on Eobard’s eyes. The futuristic villain was taking this harder than Barry himself, walking on eggshells particularly with concealing his speed. Taking any precaution to ensure his safety as well as yours. Your boyfriend explained that if you had gotten closer to the Time Wraith it would sense you. You blushed slightly at the next thought Theoretically, he said his speed-force signature particles had rubbed off on me… Probably from one too many nights of-

“Where is he? Where's the other Flash?” A different Barry demanded. Your version of Barry demanded, out of breath and pissed as hell. Your eyes widened at the sudden appearance of this time’s Flash, mouth open for a bit before closing it. Eobard just covered his face, silently counting to 10 before he choked a bitch.

Well shit, I totally forgot about our Barry.

“Right here.”

Well fuck

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nukyster-blog · 4 years

Text

Changing Course Chapter 22) Crossfire

.-.-.

Ivar was brought back to the shed and dropped on his stomach, although he wasn’t aware of his transition. Unconsciousness momentarily redeemed him from the flaring pain spreading all over his back like a wildfire. The battered skin in between his shoulder blades had ruptured due to the lashes, leaving large bloody gashes.

In a flash, he regained consciousness as his faithful guardian took it upon herself to disinfect his wounds. Although her touch was soft, pain seared through his upper body better than a branding iron.

Bloody cloth after bloody cloth dropped aside Ivar’s writhing body; pain taking over a good portion of his brain. It was all consuming, his mind conceding in agony but aware of the necessity of Piglet’s torture. So he balled his fist and tried his best to lessen the primeval noises that come from his mouth; that of a dying animal.

The pain burned and radiated, it should have shattered his soul but deep down Ivar saw the blessing in his pain, it brought him closer to his Gods, it made him realise he was inviolable.

Piglet applied a salve, which smelled of honey, plantain, and chamomile while humming her song in candlelight. Ivar listened and turned his head so that he could look up to her. The young woman’s face revealed how badly his wounds were; her forehead puckered, lips set in a grim line and her hands were shaking.

“Lay flat,” she said matter-of-factly, which was an unnecessary order, because he wasn’t planning to move, not even an inch. He lay still as hay tickled his face and nose.

Piglet eventually curled up on her side to face him properly.

“Thick-head,” she sneered, eyes clearly upset over the hell he’d put himself through.

“Savage cunt,” Ivar murmured back apologetically.

“Did he come for you?” Ivar asked when Piglet was done rolling her eyes skywards, “last night?”

“No, he walks funny now,” Piglet revealed with a devilish grin, “you’re a mad dog.”

Ivar gave her an all-tooth smile, very pleased with the thought of marking the young ruler.

.-.-.

Ivar’s punishment had caused a change inside the castle’s walls. Although daily routine started as winter swiped through the shed with icy claws like an eagle, the atmosphere was different. The Giant spat his orders into Piglet’s face, but kept far away from Ivar’s box, as if his cripple slave was stricken by the plague.

Ivar had expected the brute to give him another kick after, definitely now that he lay battered and defenseless on the floor.

But the Giant left along with Piglet, leaving Ivar to face boredom and cold. His mobility was close to none, every moment hurt and could cause the cuts to rip further. Being exposed to fresh air would accelerate the healing process; the downside was being awfully cold.

Ivar slept for the most part of the day and was awoken by the fluttering footsteps of the two linen maidens. Both young women seemed anxious to step over the threshold, but eventually curiosity got the best of them.

With large doe-like eyes the two maidens kneeled down at his box and took in every inch of Ivar’s battered body.

Being the main act of their freak show wasn’t actually how Ivar had planned his afternoon, but aside from throwing daggers with his eyes there wasn’t much he could do about it.

One of the two maidens then did something unexpected, she clasped her hands together and started a soft prayer while the other placed two thick woolen blankets next to his trough.

After a brief hail Mary, both maidens hurried to get up and fled the shed, leaving Ivar completely dumbstruck.

That same event occurred two more times with different people. A peasant mother and daughter snuck inside the stable to behold Ivar’s beat down form and placed a bowl of goat milk aside his box before leaving. Two youngsters ogled him for a while before daring to enter the stable and, instead of throwing stones, left one of their most treasured possessions; a sling and a wooden miniature toy horse.

Piglet was less humble about entering and burst out laughing when she noticed all the gifted items. Shaking her head, she nicked the milk and brought it closer to Ivar. It was awkward drinking milk while lying flat, but Ivar managed without spilling too much.

“Ivar the bloody,” Piglet sniggered and drank some herself, “martyr.”

And so, Ivar learned he’d been given a new nickname among the poor population of de Haar. ‘De martelaar’, The Martyr, as Piglet put it. She explained as good as her Nordish vocabulary allowed her that a martyr was someone who suffered persecution and death for advocating a religious belief or for a good cause. Apparently, Piglet’s life was useless, yet her virtue was considered sacred enough to fight and nearly die for in the eyes of the slaves, serfs and servants.

Although Ivar completely despised the way his punishment was now silently considered a holy statement, he did enjoy the benefits; proper food, warmth in forms of decent clothing and blankets. And he must admit, the smoldering eyes of the female population fully in awe of his quote on quote ‘scars of true heroism’, flattered his ego greatly.

Piglet managed to keep her lips in a proper shape and hands clasped together as she registered all the gifts and from time to time ushered spectators out who dared to take too much time of the healing martyr.

After a few days Ivar managed to turn on his side without rupturing the gashes, Piglet wasn’t happy with it, but Ivar had to place himself in another position. Laying still for an extended amount of time caused so much ache in his legs he’d rather cut his own skin open again.

His body was no longer an unblemished canvas, but he had come to treasure his first won symbols of victory. He victored a Christian death, for even his crippled body was stronger than that of the enemy.

Was Ivar simply a stubborn young man, willing himself to survive torture, or did he lay there as something sacred in the punishment brought upon him?

Whatever it was, his new near holy status made it possible to survive the upcoming cold. The Giant did not bother him and stayed away from the shed.

It even placed him on a pedestal of the more fortunate of castle De Haar...

.-.-.

A week. It took Ivar a week to be able to place himself into a sitting position. It hurt, badly and he couldn’t maintain the position for long, for it was impossible to place his back against the solidness of a wall.

But it allowed him to massage his legs. Kneading his calloused fingers into the poor muscle tone of his calves his heart ached for a hot bath. And the warmth of a fire. And the satisfaction of a belly filled with mead.

The fallen prince extended his wish-list and glanced up puzzled as the door creaked. It was an odd hour for his so-called worshippers to risk a peek. Everyone should be working, it was way past lunch.

Cocooned in the finest of silk and furs, the fair maiden desecrated her sandals as she tiptoed into the shed. Ivar’s mouth dropped as she came closer, Kattegat was known for their beautiful women but this maiden outshone them all.

He could not breath, eyes drawn to her golden locks that gently caressed its way down to her neck, reaching her bosom. If her God was real, Ivar told himself, then this woman was one of His masterpieces.

She was scared, petrified. Ivar failed to find reason in her fright, for he was still recovering and enchained for the matter. Her hurried glances over her shoulder revealed her true dread; she wasn’t supposed to be here.

Now, this drew Ivar’s full attention. Why would a noblewoman, with so much to lose, put herself at risk for a crippled? Now this was interesting.

She kneeled down, and with that pulled her cloak around her tighter to stave off the keen wind. Closing her eyes, the fair maiden started to pray, clasping her hands together and bowing her head.

Now this was very interesting. Her submissive demeanor drew Ivar closer. As his chains rattled, the fair maiden hunched further forward and trembled. Oh, she was scared, a lamb willingly walking into a lion's den. And why, for gossip and rumors spread by her lessers?

Ivar edged closer, as close as the chains allowed him. And he waited for the fair maiden to finish her prayer, out of curiosity, for he wondered what she’d do next as she’d face him from up close. Lowering her trembling hands the fair maiden found enough bravery in her heart to look up. And her eyes, they were, in one word, beautiful. Her eyes were a perfect spring sky and along with terror they were incarnated with sanctity.

Ivar found himself bizarrely fascinated by the fair maiden’s utter devotion of her faith. She was risking hers to lay eyes on his skin, for he who was De Martelaar.

With one swift move Ivar grabbed the back of her head and pulled her in. She was close, so close that he could see her heartbeat gallop underneath the fair skin of her neck. She smelled of rose water and jasmine, pure and unblemished.

Ivar looked down at her trembling hands, her ring finger still lacking a wedding ring.

“Poor little lamb, you’re sold off to a monster,” Ivar murmured with pity, “but I bet you already know that.” Their eyes locked like magnets and although the fair maiden couldn’t understand his language, his humble bit of sympathy didn’t go by unnoticed. With wide eyes she watched as the crippled martyr slowly rose his free hand and pressed his index finger down in between her brows. She took in a sharp breath as he drew a small cross and spoke a blessing with sencernity:

“God zegene u.”

They were the words their holy man spoke at the end of every service. Ivar didn’t know the depth of the words, but witnessing how the fear drained from her face and got restored with hope, he knew he did little right today.

“How lost you must be, if you perceive me as something biblical,” Ivar scoffed soft, lips turning in a sideway smirk, very pleased that she still allowed him to touch her. A noblewoman on her knees in filth and animal dung, so desperately in need to find a shatter of hope.

Ivar’s fingers ran down the bridge of her nose fully aware that he was playing with fire, enough to burn the entire castle down.

Ivar did not know what emotion drove him, was it a simple payback in regards to her fiance? Was it selfishness? Weakness? Lust? Or a simple consideration towards a beautiful young woman, to briefly veil her from the terrible truth; that she was going to be married to a monster?

Whatever it was, Ivar kissed the fair maiden and the world fell away. The touch was light and soft, comforting in ways words would never be, for language was their barrier. His hand moved and rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled.

The sounds of a tearing potato bag broke their spell. The fair maiden jerked her head in the direction of the sound and Ivar managed to look over her shoulder.

Piglet lingered in the doorway, holding the torn bag against her chest with a pile of potatoes spread around her feet. Still as a statue the slave gawked at the scene in front of her.

It was the fair maiden who broke the awful silence. As being touched by fire she jolted back, struggling to get on her feet. Shame-faced she whispered something to Piglet and managed to shove something in her hands before evacuating the shed.

Piglet managed a deadpan expression all while striding with large steps into Ivar’s box. There she exploded, beating her fists into his chest and smacking him across the face.

Alongside the curses in her mother tongue she managed to slip in some Nordish:

“Thick-head, do you have a death wish?!” She repeated numerous times before dropping on her knees and staring up skywards.

“IDIOT!” She exclaimed and thrusted her fists into the ground. “Hamar! Stupid idiot!” When Ivar failed to speak she crawled back on her feet and marched off. At the doorway she took a small pause and threw the fair maidens item across the shed.

Ivar played marble until he no longer could see the back of Piglet’s head before reaching forwards in the way. He picked up a woman’s necklace. A golden cross dangling at the end.

.-.-.

A/N Yeah, so this happened. This was not supposed to happen. But then again, Ivar is into blondes so yeah maybe I shouldn’t have let her get down on her knees. Also I didn’t have the intentions of making Ivar a Martyr, but it’ll get the pair of them through winter and c’mon you know how good this is for his ego. Mister God complex. But fuck, why did they had to kiss. Yes I’ll I seriously need to recover from this.

Also ‘God zegene U’, means ‘God Bless you’ in Dutch. So at least he blessed her before making out with the fiance of the guy who’s responsible for tearing his entire back open. I’m team Piglet with this one, he’s a complete and utter idiot.

So, what are your thoughts of our young Prince smoothing up with the WORST OPTION in the entire castle….

Xoxoxo Nukyster

The kickass beta: @Sarahh-Jane

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182 @conaionaru

@sarahh-jane

@peachyboneless

If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

#ivar the boneless #Ivar the marthy #ivar the bloody #ivar fanfic #vikings fanfic #vikings fandom #alex hogh andersen

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cotncandyboifics · 3 years

Text

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 5

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 2,262

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, implied s-lf h-rm, sickness/description of sickness, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: prepare yourself for copious helpings of Patton angst in this chapter :)

...

Logan sat quietly in the back seat of his parent's car, leaning his head against the window. Everything remained silent for a long time. Eventually, his father cleared his throat from behind the wheel, moving his shoulders a bit.

"Son, your mother and I have something to tell you." His voice was strong and stern, as it usually was, but Logan sensed some excitement behind it.

"Oh?" Logan replied. His mother put her hand on his father's arm, and whispered something Logan couldn't quite hear.

"Nonsense. Of course this is a good time." Logan's father shook his wife's hand off, and looked at Logan through the rear view mirror. "Logan, do you remember that I told you I was having a meeting with some of my friends from Yale and Harvard?"

Logan's father had attended Harvard as a pre-grad, studying business, and went to grad school at Yale. Logan nodded, remembering that his father had had lunched with them on Sunday afternoon.

"Yes, father."

"Well, I have some wonderful news. As you are aware, some of them are on the staff, and are good friends with head of admissions," with each word, Logan's father grew more and more cheery, but never retired his intimidating demeanor. "So I had a word with some of them, and to make a long story short," Logan saw a hint of a smile on his father's face, "You have an opportunity for an exclusive shadowing of both schools." His father looked at him now through the rear view mirror again, expecting a certain reaction.

Logan's mind raced. He couldn't let that show, though. "That sounds excellent father, I'm looking forward to it. I know this could mean so much for my future. Thank you kindly."

"Of course you're looking forward to it. This is an opportunity that comes once in a lifetime!" His father was grinning now, but focusing back on the road. His mother looked back at him with a concerned look, and Logan eyed her curiously. Why does she seem so reluctant? Doesn't she know what this means to me? To father?

"Indeed. When would we go?" Logan asked, shifting in his seat a bit.

His father's smile faltered a bit. "Not until March, next semester." He focused on driving then.

"Understandable and adequate," Logan responded, returning his gaze to the houses passing outside.

...

Virgil sat on the bus, hunched over his phone, scrolling through Tumblr. As he looked around again, always anxious and aware of other people, his phone buzzed.

Mom <3: Hey sweetie. How are things going? We love you :) <3

Virgil smiled at the text, and opened it up.

Virgil: hi mom. i 'm on the bus, headed home. be there in ~20 min. love you too

He closed his phone then, putting it away and letting himself get lost in the sounds of fallout boy.

about twenty minutes later, adhering to his estimation, Virgil walked up the steps to his front door, turned the key in the lock, and opened it. His mother had her back to him and was standing over the stove, handling a large pan and humming sweet nothings to herself. His father was sitting on the couch in the living room, thumbing through yesterday's paper.

"Hey," Virgil said, kicking his shoes off by the door.

"Hey there honeybunch!" His mom called sweetly from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready in ten. Will you let your brother know?"

"Sure mom," Virgil said, walking over and giving his mom a kiss on the cheek. He then walked to the living room, and greeted his father with a hug.

"Hey, son! Have a good day?" He asked.

"Heh, yeah dad. Dinner's ready in ten, don't keep mom waiting again," Virgil teased. His father often was late to the dinner table on account of his reading.

"Don't worry, I won't kiddo," His dad said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"And Virge," His mom stopped him as he walked towards the staircase, "Let Addie know that if he sets the table, there's a cookie or two in it for him, will you?"

Virgil smirked. "Sure, mom."

Virgil walked upstairs and turned down the hall, walking into his brother Atticus' bedroom.

Atticus was sitting on the end of his bed, enthralled in a game of Mario Kart, surrounded by stacks of superhero comics. He didn't acknowledge his brother entering until Virgil turned off his PS4.

"Hey! I was about to win!!" Atticus complained. Virgil just walked over and gave his little brother a good noogie.

"Dinner's almost ready. Be a good little boy and go set the table will you? It might mean a treat for desert," Virgil bargained.

"How do you know?" Atticus countered.

"I had a little talk with mom, and she said how much she loves for you to set the table, and that if you did it tonight, she'd let you have two cookies after dinner," Virgil pressed. Atticus made a face, as if weighing his options in his head, and eventually begrudgingly hopped off the bed and stalked down the hall.

Virgil dropped his stuff off in his own room, throwing his backpack in a corner and checking his eyeshadow in the mirror. A flash of light caught his eye, and he looked over on his desk to see...

a pair of scissors, sprawled open on his essay draft for Mr. Berry. there was some blood, and some of it had smeared on the paper. The blood looked fresh, or at least Virgil knew it was. It was less than 24 hours old.

"Virgil honey, Dinner!" He heard his mother's voice from the bottom of the stairs.

"Coming!!" Virgil shouted, putting the scissors in one of the drawers of his desk along with the bloody homework assignment. Walking out of his room, he made one last glance at the drawer, and then shut his door.

...

Patton stepped off the bus, and began pacing in the direction of his house. he lived across town from school, so the bus ride often brought him to his destination around sunset. At least it gave him time to do what homework he could before returning to the chaos of his home.

the neighborhood he lived in was once rather nice, a solid middle class area, but since then many houses had been abandoned or rented by their owners to less well-off groups, so it wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing area. however, it wasn't particularly unsafe or crime-ridden, so it wasn't unlivable.

Patton's mind raced as he neared his home. He wondered if his brother would be conscious when he got there, how his mom would be feeling. though he took care of her as best as he could, they couldn't afford medical insurance and she only seemed to be getting sicker.

he finally arrived in front of the house, walked up the walkway and up a few stairs onto the porch, and went to reach for his key when he noticed the door hanging slightly ajar.

Stricken with slight panic, Patton opened the door all the way and rushed inside, immediately seeing a dark slumped figure at the end of the hall. he shut the door behind him and turned on the hall light, revealing that the figure was his brother Hailen, unconscious and cradling a small syringe in one hand.

Patton approached his brother and knelt down to examine the situation. The crook of Hailen's elbow on the other arm had a small trickle of blood seeping down his forearm a few inches. He'd stirred a small bit when Patton had shut the door, so he still had something left in him. Patton took the syringe and went to the bathroom, throwing it away and grabbing a small first aid kit from the medicine cabinet, and returned to Hailen to clean and patch up the place he'd injected himself.

Once he was cleaned up Patton helped Hailen up and half carried him, his arm draped across Patton's shoulders and Patton's arm supporting his torso, to their shared bedroom. He laid him on the bed and brought him a glass of water, pulled the blanket over him and left the room. Now that he'd taken care of his brother, his bigger concern took his full attention.

He walked back out into the hall and to his mother's room, and knocked gently on the door. When no reply came, Patton opened the door slowly. The room was very dim, just some moon rays shining through a small window near the ceiling. there was a mound of comforters and blankets on the bed which Patton knew contained the most important person to him in the world.

he stepped carefully to the side of the bed, and saw, in the nest of blankets, the resting pale face of his mother. some strands of her dark hair splayed on the blankets and pillows around her head.

"Mom?" Patton said, his voice awfully small, putting a hand gently on where he assumed her shoulder was. She stirred and began coughing, and opened her eyes. She smiled as much as she could when she saw her younger son standing there, looking somehow cheerful and loving as ever. "hi mom, how did you feel today?" he asked softly. She went to clear her throat to speak but began coughing again.

She regained herself and spoke, in a small and raspy voice. "I think I'm starting to get a bit better. I was..." she sneezed. "ugh- i was able to eat about half the soup you left me this morning." she gestured to the bowl of green slop on her bedside table , that appeared to have been partially eaten.

"That's wonderful," Patton smiled wider. "How's your fever? here, let me check your temperature," he said, retrieving the thermometer from her bedside table.

"it feels a bit better. I'm not so sweaty today," She said as Patton cleaned the tip of the thermometer and turned it on.

"I'm so glad. Open," he said, and she opened her mouth slightly. He set the thermometer in, and she closed her mouth, and they waited.

"I'm so sorry we can't get you to a hospital," Patton whispered. "I'm really trying to find work, there's just not many places that have open positions with hours i can work." The thermometer beeped and Patton took it out of his mother's mouth.

"Please sweetheart, you're already carrying this family and balancing your schoolwo-" She went into another small coughing fit.

"Please, don't speak, it just hurts your throat mom," Patton replied. She simply nodded. "Well, you're at 101.2, lower than yesterday. That's good news." He smiled to her, and she attempted to return it. "Now I'm going to go and get you some medicine and water. Would you like to try to eat a bit too? i can make some more soup?" He asked. She nodded. "Okay, I'll be right back." He took the bowl of old soup and turned on his heel. As he reached the door, she spoke again.

"Is your brother okay? I heard him come in earlier, and fall... he didn't sound too good." she whispered so as not to irritate her throat, and it was nearly inaudible. Patton sighed.

"He'll be okay. I got him to bed. Don't worry about it too much," He turned back and smiled.

Patton made his way to the kitchen which, unlike most of their house, was somewhat well kept. He got a can of soup from the pantry and turned on the stove, setting a small pot on it. Then he retrieved his mother's medicine from the refrigerator, a bottle of murky purple syrup that looked a bit toxic, and smelled like synthetic grapes. He poured a bit into a small measuring cup and put the bottle away.

Where had he been all day? How was he even getting heroin? What's going on with him? ... doesn't he know mom needs us?

The pot was hot enough now, so he opened the can and poured the contents into the pot, grabbing a wooden spoon and stirring gently. He took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with tap water, and a single cube of ice from the freezer. The soup was nearly done, so he grabbed a bowl as well. Noticing there was definitely enough soup for two bowls, he grabbed another, and filled them with equal portions.

I should try to get him to eat at least. I should figure out how to detox him as soon as possible. Gosh, I hope Mrs. Hanson isn't too mad I didn't quite finish my first draft tomorrow.

He brought the first bowl, the water, and the medicine to his mother, making sure she got all the syrup down. Leaving her to rest and try to eat, he took the second bowl and slung a small towel over his shoulder, heading back to his room.

His brother was stirring more now, murmuring quietly in a seemingly foreign language, his eyes slightly open and glazed. Patton tried to get him to sit up, and Hailen put what effort he could into helping. Eventually they got into a manageable position, with Hailen sort of half-laying on Patton's shoulder. Patton tried to spoon some soup into his brother's mouth, and it sort of worked; Hailen would swallow but some of the soup would always drip down onto the towel. Patton didn't mind, he was just glad his brother was able to get something in his system.

You'll get through this. I'm so sorry.

Hailen finished the soup and Patton wiped his mouth with a clean section of the towel, and laid him back down. He whispered a small goodnight to his brother, then threw the towel in the general direction of his laundry basket. He pulled off his clothes and laid down in his own bed, and willed himself to sleep. Things will get better, for all of us.

#patton sanders #ts patton #logan sanders #ts logan #roman sanders #ts roman #virgil sanders #ts virgil #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #slow burn #high school au #prinxiety #logicality

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valmalfoy · 4 years

Note

Hello, honey! I saw the requests were open) Would you like to write Young!Sirius x reader With reader being optimistic everything, calm, A-Student, and Sirius mildly despises her, because she’s too “perfect”, but she’s friendly. But than something happens to him, she helps him to calm down, he snaps at her, because she wouldn’t ever know what’s that like, but turns out she has actually been through the similar situation, so she taught herself to see the good sides? I hope u like it 🤍🤍

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings: angst, jealous sirius ;), mad sirius but an all around fluffy ending.

A/N: I absolutely adore Sirius Black and couldn’t wait to write this one. I made this based in autumn and the reader is a slytherin (because I love cross house relationships and I thought it’d make the feud between them a bit more interesting.) Enjoy and as always thank you for requesting! <3

Y/N was a perfect student. Perfect grades, excelling in every class she attended and she made it look so effortless. Everything came to her so easily in class. They could be studying one of the hardest subjects at hogwarts at she’d make it look as easy as flying a broom when really it felt like trying to catch a rather difficult golden snitch. She was also undoubtedly gorgeous, nobody could dispute that. Her most striking feature always catching the eyes of boys from all the houses. But above all, she was kind. Which some found odd considering her house, the house of the cunning. Always offering to help that first year find their way to class or Gryffindor with a tricky question. She was one that could be unforgettable. You know, the type that you could walk past on the street and not know a single thing about them and daydream about your future with her. And to his friends disbelief, Sirius despised her. They could never pinpoint why because he always seemed to bring her up when he returned to the Gryffindore common room or during class when she was simply writing notes down on parchment paper.

“If you hate her so much, then explain to me why she is always on your mind.” James whispered to Sirius with his arms crossed and eyebrows knitted together. Sirius glared at his friend, trying to focus on the notes that Professor Mcgonagall read to the class rather quickly.

“How could you even ask that question, Potter.” James put his arms up in a surrendering position.

“Merlin, sorry.” James mumbled, “Didn’t know it was such a touchy subject.”

“It’s not a touchy subject. I would like to focus on my notes, please.” Sirius hunched over his parchment paper and continued to scribble out his messy handwriting.

“It must be because every girl would do anything at will just go get a glance from you but she won’t even look your way or acknowledge you.” James said with a sigh before leaning back into his chair. Sirius’s head whipped to look at Potter with his jaw hanging.

“I’m not even going to entertain what you just said, James.” Sirius warned before earning a quiet laugh from James. Sirius’s eyes drifting to across the classroom where Y/N quietly wrote. He noticed that whenever she was focused on something, she’d tap her foot under the desk quietly. He wondered if it were a specific song she’d tap it to or it was something she did absentmindedly. Sirius shook the thought of and continued with his notes.

It wasn’t until a couple weeks later that he’d speak to the girl that everyone knew of for the first time.

It was when the leaves had shifted from a green to red, yellow and orange. The sky turning a warm grey color and the weather got colder, everyone wearing wool sweaters now instead of cotton t-shirts. And much to Sirius’ notice, other students started receiving letters, clothes and packages full of everything fall from their families back at home. Writing about how they missed their company during this season. And just like every other year that Sirius attended hogwarts, he never received anything from his parents. Sirius knew exactly why and so did his friends. He wasn’t like his family. He never exactly fit in during family dinners, oh and let’s not forget he didn’t carry on a long line of tradition by sorting into the house of slytherin. So this time of year was rather difficult for him. He never understood the joy of autumn.

One breezy morning in the great hall, Sirius sat with his friends at the Gryffindor table. He watched as the excitedly teared into packages and read their letters from family. Sirius quietly excused himself from the table although he was sure his friends wouldn’t notice he was gone with all of the goodies that laid in front of them. But a certain girl watched him leave in a hurry and out to one of the courtyard’s. He often came out here to relax, listening to the leaves crunch under his shoes and get some fresh air. But today he simply sat on a bench and did his best not to lash out.

“Sirius Black, is it?” A calming voice was heard only a couple feet away from him. When he looked up from his lap his breath was caught in his throat when his gaze fell upon Y/N Y/L/N. And for an endless moment their eyes met.

“What’s it to you.” He nearly growled.

“Mind if I sit?” She asks. And if Sirius could describe her voice it would be as sweet as honey and as soft as silk. Although, he’d never admit that.

“Out of all the benches you choose this one?”

“Please.” How could he said no, she was being polite about it.

“Right then.” Sirius said before scooting over on the bench. “What does the golden girl want?” He snapped, earning a confused gaze from her.

“Here.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a letter, sealed with with a green wax.

“I don’t want your pity.” He said just not yet taking the letter from the girl.

“Believe me, I know that.” She shook her head looking down at the letter. “But I also know that you don’t receive letters from your parents.”

“How did you-?” He tried to say but he was quickly cut off.

“It’s easy to pick out the people that are like yourself.”

Sirius scoffed at her words, “As if you’re anything like me. You’re absolutely perfect and i’m well.. not.”

“I am so far from perfect.” She shrugged, still holding tightly onto the letter so the small breeze would not carry it away. “I don’t receive letters from my family either.”

“You don’t?” Sirius asked in disbelief.

“My parents are hufflepuffs. I wish I could’ve seen the look on their faces when they found out I was sorted into Slytherin. They say they don’t mind but I haven’t gotten a letter since my third year.” She laughed at the last bit. “Holidays aren’t so fun either. But I tend to look on the good side of things.” Y/N held the letter out to Sirius before he hesitatly took it. She stood up from the bench, pushing her hands into her coat picked before smiling as a signal of an wordless goodbye. She turned on her heels and headed into the warmth of the Hogwarts school.

As soon as she was gone, Sirius carefully opened the letter and began to read:

“Dear Sirius,

Your friends care about you a lot more than they tend to lead on. I will say I was quite shocked to hear of your sudden interest in my whereabouts in the school. But besides the things you’ve said about me, your friends brought to my attention that you were never really close with your family. James’ somehow knew about my situation as well and no matter what I say will not tell me how he got this information.. He thought that maybe if we talked that we could resolve this conflict you have towards me and that you’d find something in me to relate to.

While I may not be a close relative or someone you particularly like, i’ve decided to write you letters so you don’t look so left out. You don’t have to say they’re from me either. Because how embarrassing would that be, right? I guess it doesn’t matter, so do what you will with my letters.

Sincerely,

Y/N Y/L/N.”

With a smile now growing a permanent home Sirius’ face, he tucked the letter deep into his pocket so as it not to fall out when he walked back into the school. Maybe Y/N wasn’t so bad after all.

#sirius black imagine #the marauders #sirius black x reader #sirius black #young!sirius black #young!sirius black imagine #young!sirius black x reader #autumn #requests #valmalfoy requests #harry potter

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

A Deep and Rapid River, Ch. 10

<- Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 ->

Summary: It’s your wedding day. Things are... great.

Thank you @sexy-opium-ravioli for helping beta! This is an important chapter, so I hope it scans!

Everything feels numb. There is a veil draped between you and the world, even before someone—your mother, perhaps—drapes a veil of gossamer over your face. It’s fitting. You sit behind it and pretend you are not there as the world moves you.

Someone fusses with your hair. Someone dresses you in a gown. Someone takes your arm and you are inside a church. Someone puts a plate in front of you, a rich meal of savory meat that tickles your nostrils—the kind of meal you should expect with a wealthy husband (as wealthy as this small village can offer). But you don’t eat.

It’s funny. You had worried about starving if you ran away with your monster, but now you have food and can’t eat anything.

Where was he at this moment? Far away, you suppose. You broke his heart and betrayed him. You’re marrying a man you despise because you were too afraid to go with him. He always did try to push you away whenever his feelings were too raw—to claim you were better off without him—so you know exactly what he did. He left without you, thinking it was what you wanted.

Or maybe he is close—he loves you too fiercely to just leave, doesn’t he? He might be watching the proceedings from some secret hiding place, weeping and raging, unable to do anything to stop it. It’s not as though he could claim you as his rightful wife. He can never show his face to the world without putting himself in danger; he can’t protect you from the realities of life. He can’t undo your choices.

Then again, he had also told you he was afraid of the evil he was capable of in the absence of love. You spurned him, and threw him back into a loveless world, where all he will ever know is rejection and isolation. Seeing you, who had promised yourself to him, start a family with another could be enough to push him over the edge. You had seen flashes of his anger before, his fits of passion. If Ferdinand had gone though such lengths to reclaim you after you left him, and he is a mere mortal, what is the daemon capable of?

He would never hurt you, you’re sure of that. Or you were sure. You never betrayed him before. What if he hates you, and that hate turns into vengeance? If he burns Ferdinand’s house down with you inside, that might be the most satisfactory ending left to you now. It would be favorable to living as Ferdinand’s wife for the next twenty years, unless you could manage to die in childbirth sooner.

Your mind drifts to that deep and rapid river, flooded with icy spring snow-melt, and you wonder how much trouble everyone would have been spared if the creature had never pulled you from its deathly current. At the bottom of that black stream, you imagine the sheer layers of your gown floating gently above your head, surrounded by bubbles, and the veil pulling off your crown and washing away into the turbid dark. A kind of peace settles over you. You think of nothing else for a long time.

**********

The organ plays a funeral march as your father drags you down the aisle, and you find yourself, through no will of your own, standing before an altar with vows being read to you and practically no memory of how you came to be there.

You feel sick.

Perhaps if you throw up on your husband’s shoes it will be some small rebellious victory. You feel your face want to smirk at that, instinctively. It’s what your cheeks would normally do. Yet your facial muscles remain slack and lifeless.

A sea of uncaring faces watch with curiosity from the long wooden pews, with a faded red carpet dividing them in two. Neighbors turn to whisper in each other’s ears with a frown or a smirk half-hidden behind a hand. They all came to watch. None of them had spoken to you in years, but they came for the show.

As the priest makes his pronouncements, your mind swirls with a torrent of self-reproaches. Why didn’t you fight while there was still a chance? You could have screamed and struggled until your parents had no choice but to let you go. Until Ferdinand realized you weren’t worth the trouble. You could have tied your sheets together and sneaked out the window before dawn—the storm had stopped by then.

It’s too late, you gutless fool. You can’t make a scene in front of all these people.

“If anyone knows a reason why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

Someone save me, you silently pray, but the large wooden cross looming above the altar seems to be on their side. Your eyes dart across the indifferent faces of the guests, desperately hoping for a savior, but they were only spectators. They know you’re being forced into this, and they’re complicit. Not that you had fought it either.

Not that you had fought it. The realization breaks upon you like an avalanche in spring. How could you expect someone else to save you when you would do nothing to save yourself from this fate? When you turned down your own best chance of escape because you were afraid? Now it was too late. There was no way out anymore.

Your stomach turns, and a sob breaks through the numbness that had swallowed you. Even through the veil, there was no hiding your tears, or your wail of abject sorrow.

The crowd gasps in unison, but not at you. At that same moment, the heavy double doors of the chapel burst open, banging against the walls in an explosion of splinters and a shattering roar: “I object!”

Standing beside you with a clear view down the center of the aisle, your mother makes a sign of the cross over her chest and points into the doorway, now filled by a massive silhouette. “The demon!”

A wave of reaction spreads through the crowd like the churning of a river around a large rock as the witnesses scream and push each other trying to get away from the enraged monster, flooding toward the back of the church and pressing themselves against the far walls.

He stands glowering in the doorway, eight feet tall and filling the entire entrance that he has to stoop to get inside. His arms spread wide from throwing open the doors make him appear even larger—inescapable. Silhouetted in the light streaming behind him from outside, his face is a vicious mask of cruelty and stark shadows.

Your heart stops beating, or races so quickly that you can’t distinguish one beat from the next, and you feel the blood running from your face. He—he came. He’s here. How can he be here? He can’t be here! Not like this. There was a chance you could have introduced him little by little to people you trusted, like Bess, if she hadn’t walked in with such poor timing. She might have understood. But this? He is poisoning himself to them forever. Why? Has he come to rescue you… or to take revenge?

“It is I—the Serpent,” he snarls in a voice that booms and resonates through the arched ceiling. You haven’t heard this voice since the day you encountered him in the forest and he tried to scare you away. “He who reigns among of the Legions of Pandemonium, sprung from the Deep, through the gates of Hell lays claim upon this woman. All the Seraphim of heaven shall not keep me from my prize!” He raises himself to his full height, scattering guests left and right with his sheer enormity and the terror of his presence. Your mouth goes dry as you suddenly become aware of how much he hunches over when he’s with you to make himself less intimidating. You’ve never seen him like his—his teeth bared and his long black hair whipping around him. The gentle creature who milked your cows and waited patiently for you in the dusty hayloft was gone. A cold shiver runs down your spine.

The demon snaps his huge white jaws at the crowd like a feral beast, lashing out at one side of the aisle and the other as he stalks up the faded strip of carpet. Each crashing footfall shakes the whole floor under your feet and sends dust streaming down from the rafters. With each threatening lunge, fresh screams of panic erupt from the congregants still frozen in their seats, and those fleeing toward the rear of the church now creep along the walls toward the front as he moves away from the broken doors. A trickle of congregants risk sneaking out the doors behind him, and when the first brave group manages to run to freedom without the monster whipping about and killing them, more flood out the doors in a turbulent stream of pushing and screaming.

What is he doing? You spent so much time and care hiding him, and now he’s in the middle of the village, exposed in full view, deliberately calling attention to himself. It’s as if everything you strived for together doesn’t even matter. Is he trying to get himself killed? Does he not even care anymore?

“Your God cannot help you now,” he thunders as he approaches the small wedding party at the altar. “I am the Prince of Darkness, the Morning Star, and a curse be upon any soul who stands in my way!” Your mother takes a quick step backward, then drops to the ground with a thud. Your father turns and runs, abandoning her.

No one is trying to stop him. They’re too terrified. You rip off your gossamer veil and look around the church—those who are not mobbing the exits are fainted or quivering in shock.

Everything you strived for doesn’t matter. All that hiding and pretending didn’t work—if you stay on that road, it leads to you marrying Ferdinand and living the rest of your life in a cold fog waiting to die. It’s time to try something different.

This.

All cards on the table. Winner takes all.

He towers over the trembling priest, and pronounces with a warning glare, “I claim this woman for my wife! No mortal shall touch her; no contract under God may bind her—her soul belongs to me!”

His eyes flit down to you and he stutters in his fierce tirade. Your wedding dress is new—a modestly expensive modern gown purchased by the groom to show off his assets. A taffeta robe the color of summer is pulled back to reveal a bright white petticoat underneath, and a neckline plunging almost scandalously low shows off more of your cleavage than he is used to seeing. His pale cheeks redden at your beauty, and for a moment he looks so much like an infatuated school boy it nearly gives away his act. To you it does, at least. At that moment, you’re certain what his intentions are, and the relief at those loving eyes you thought you would never see again makes your vision swim with tears.

He drops to one knee, sweeping his cloak out behind him, and holds a hand out to you. “Take my hand, and be my bride,” he commands in a booming voice, then adds, softly, earnestly, locking his eyes with yours, “If you will have me.”

You smile and cover your mouth, a warm feeling fluttering through your stomach.

You take his hand.

“I knew it,” growls a voice behind you. “I knew I did not imagine you, fiend! And you,” he shoves aside the preacher, still a trembling mass of robes, so he can grab the hand raised to your mouth roughly by the wrist and pull you back toward him. “I knew you were a whore! I’ll teach you to know your place!”

“Let me go!” you scream and try to twist away toward the creature, but Ferdinand holds on with bruising force. You cry out in pain.

The creature roars in outrage and snatches Ferdinand’s wrist just below where it grips yours. There is a sound of snapping bone as his hand goes limp and releases you, and the giant being of immense strength pulls the smaller man’s arm upward until he hangs off the ground like a limp rag doll. You pivot and join the creature at his side, interlacing your fingers with his.

“Her place is where she chooses. No one shall force her hand so long as I will live,” the creature snarls in the boy’s face, gnashing his dripping teeth. “You should have begged to be worthy for her to choose you.”

A slow, unhinged laugh shakes Ferdinand’s dangling form. “Choice?” he cackles, “She would choose to leave me? For this thing?! Then it is fortunate you have no choice, you filthy sow!” He lashes out with his feet, but the creature whips him away, a symphony of popping joints and screams following, until he hangs limp and defeated again.

“Yes, I do,” you growl. “I always have; you just didn’t want me to see it. But I see it now, and you can never have me.”

“Would you like me to rend him limb from limb?”

“No,” you reply coldly. “He isn’t worth the mess.”

“Disgusting wench!” Ferdinand coughs, wriggling impotently like a marionette on the end of a string. He’s at least learned not to kick. “Your defile yourself in the eyes of God!”

“If God wants me to be with the likes of you, then consider me happily defiled,” you sneer. You’re feeling downright brazen now at seeing your oppressors so weak and helpless—how pathetic they really are. You have every right to be with the one you love, with the one who makes you happy. “There is nothing wrong or immoral about what we have.”

Ferdinand’s eyes spark with rage. “So you admit it, then. All along you’ve made a cuckold of me. You were mine! Corrupting devil,” he spits, “She was the perfect woman when I chose her for my own—meek and biddable—there was no competition for her hand due to her social defects, but I could have tamed those peculiarities in short order. Instead you made her stubborn and willful. I will not forgive you for making her your whore, beast!” His free hand reaches into the lining of his waistcoat, and he pulls out a dueling pistol. “This time my aim will be straight for your heart—die, vile adversary!”

You see him raise the gun to the creature’s chest, and you don’t think. You slam your full body weight against his arm, pushing it out to the side as he pulls the trigger. A shower of sparks erupts from the muzzle with a loud bang, and a lead round embeds itself in the chapel wall. Burning black powder makes you cough. The creature grabs the gun from Ferdinand’s hand and crushes the barrel with a single squeeze, then tosses it and Ferdinand away like so much garbage.

Ferdinand crashes into the altar, candles toppling down over him in a heap.

“Bitch! You bitch!” Ferdinand shouts disparaging swears from his position on the floor. It’s more than the impotent rage of defeat. He pulls the second dueling pistol of the set from the other side of his waistcoat—he was paranoid enough to be wed with two loaded weapons strapped to him—more shrewd than paranoid, considering the outcome. He takes aim at you this time.

He had struck the creature while both were sprinting through the undergrowth of the forest—he was a good shot. At only a few meters distance, he is unlikely to miss. The blood freezes in your veins and time seems to stand still as you watch his finger slowly depress the trigger, millimeter by millimeter. This is what you had been terrified of for the past months, why you had so feared discovery. You squeeze the creature’s fingers, still locked in yours, and you smile. You smile like it’s the last time you will ever get the chance to, because you’re afraid to die.

The flint snaps down onto the flashpan and tiny golden sparks spray out from the top of the pistol. The spark reaches the barrel, but carelessly loaded and ill-maintained, the ball does not fire, but the barrel explodes in his hand, sending shrapnel whizzing past your head and setting the cloth of the altar ablaze. He shrieks in agony, dropping the wreckage of the gun from his mangled and bleeding hand.

The creature pulls you to him in a protective embrace as time starts moving again.

“Goodbye, Ferdinand,” you say through your teeth. “If you ever come near me again, I’ll kill you.” Eyes wide with terror and pain, Ferdinand scrambles away from the spreading flames.

You leap into the creature’s arms, a grin spreading from ear to ear as he holds you in a bridal carry. He smiles back triumphantly, chest heaving from adrenaline. You don’t know how this happened, how everything turned upside down so suddenly, but you’re ready now. You already felt the cold jaws of a living death closing around you, and as the fire begins to spread out from the altar, you feel alive again—truly alive, for perhaps the first time in your life.

The growing fire spurs a rapid call to activity—swooning parishioners startle awake at the smell of smoke, and shake their stunned companions out of their trances. The priest, to his credit, kneels beside your mother and lifts her to her feet. She gives one last bleary-eyed look of confusion at you with your bright wedding gown streaming down from the dark-haired monster’s arms before the priest guides her out a side door.

You clasp your arms around the back of the creature’s neck. His smile has faded to a faraway sort of sadness. “I never meant to hurt you, I just… panicked,” you explain quietly. “I was so afraid of dying with you, but I realized just now, there are worse things. When I resigned to marrying him, I kept thinking of the merciful ways my life might be cut short so I wouldn’t have to grow old in his house. I was afraid of living. You make me afraid to die.” He carefully wipes a tear from the corner of your eye with a calloused thumb. “Can you forgive me for being such a coward?”

“Of course I do. I only wanted to give you a choice. You could have renounced me, and then all would know you were innocent. That none of it was your fault. So disrupted, the ceremony would at least be postponed, and if you cast out the demon, perhaps they would not force you into marriage.”

“That… that was really your plan?” You hadn’t considered for a moment the possibility of turning against him.

“I was hoping you would choose me,” he shrugs sheepishly. “What is your choice, my angel? Do you wish to leave with me?” His question is uncertain and soft and familiar now that you’re alone. You lift a hand to his cheek, and he turns his face to nuzzle into your palm.

“I do!”

Your sweet daemon leans his head down and kisses you before the burning altar. As the church begins to fill with the dry smoke of ancient timber, the creature hefts you in his arms, hugging you closer, and carries you down the aisle.

#frankenstein #Frankenstein's Monster #the creature x reader #monster x reader #My writing #JUST ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT AAAAAAAHHHHH #I almost waited to post them together #but I'm too anxious so there's gonna be an epilogue

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